10. Jagger

Jagger

T he blinking cursor taunts me, like the seconds of a clock counting down.

Identify the most intriguing part of the human anatomy, using specific examples. That I can do—the identification part at least. It's the examples that are giving me fits, despite there being dozens to choose from that are just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to why thumbs are so fucking cool.

Humans' ability to hold things is a result of having thumbs that work in opposition to the fingers, so everything from picking shit up to feeding ourselves to making clothes and shelter is only possible because of those handy little pollexes. They're even critical to society as a whole since thumbs make it possible to express our thoughts through music, art and technology, so when you think about it, they're conceivably the most important body part in existence.

Yet every time I try to write down an example of what humans can do because we have opposable digits, my brain keeps drifting to how they facilitate a bodily function that has zero benefit to our culture or the advancement of our species…jerking off .

I know it's juvenile, but the fact remains you wouldn't be able to get a good grip on a cock without being able to make a fist, and thumbs are critical to that.

Once jerking off enters my brain, I start to chub up. I have to force myself to think about something besides my assignment to get it to go back down.

How do dogs function without thumbs?

What do dogs dream about?

Do dogs have any superpowers?

What superpower would I want?

What superhero should I dress as for Halloween?

After successfully distracting my immature brain with equally immature thoughts about dogs and superheroes, I go back to my homework, and the whole cycle starts again.

I'm starting to think it's a sign that I need to get laid.

Unfortunately, that thought opens a whole new line of questions, the most pressing being who I should get laid with.

A few weeks ago, that question wouldn't have stumped me. Today… Let's just say I've been testing Cam's theory about gay porn being more satisfying than the straight kind, and I haven't felt turned off by what I've seen. So yeah, who remains a mystery, especially since I've been feeling jittery around the one person who usually makes me feel safe.

At first, I thought that was my imagination—after all, I was the one trying to figure shit out, so I could see how I might misinterpret things simply because I was confused—but once I realized I could feel his eyes on me the same way I sometimes caught mine on him… It's been hard to concentrate on anything else ever since.

And then he popped a third leg in the showers and… Well, it could've been a coincidence, but my brain doesn' t want it to be.

I haven't got the first fucking clue what to do about that though.

Frustrated, I let my head fall to the desk, groaning loudly as I bang it halfheartedly on the thick wooden surface.

"Kitcat?" My door creaks open as Cam pokes his head in.

Note to self—don't be frustrated out loud if I don't want him to check on me.

"Yeah?" I sit up as he pushes all the way inside, closes the door, and helps himself to a seat on my bed.

"What's with the head banging?"

"Just this stupid assignment." I tip my head toward the glowing laptop next to me and spin the chair to face him.

"You don't like it?" His brows disappear behind his hair. "I thought it was pretty cool."

"What'd you pick?"

"Toes."

Mental note. My best friend might possibly have a foot fetish too.

"Seriously?" I recoil as I curl my lip. "Toes are nasty."

"Well, yeah." He rubs the back of his neck and gives me a weak smile, probably embarrassed about choosing the body part I hate the most. "But they're also kind of important. They're the whole reason we can walk upright. Did you know they support over seventy-five percent of our body weight? With the balls of your feet too, but still. They're so tiny but they're fucking strong. What'd you pick? Or can you not choose and that's what has you beating your head on the desk?"

"Thumbs." I hold mine up like a hitchhiker.

Cam's brow furrows as he looks from my hand to the computer. "If you picked a body part to talk about what's the issue? "

"Too many examples to choose from." I give him a version of the truth, since admitting one of those examples is jerking off is too embarrassing even for me.

"Pick the top three." Cam scoots so his back is against the wall, crossing his feet at the ankles like my work here is done .

"It's not that easy, Camelot. Think of how many things you can hold in your hand with thumbs. Utensils to eat. Tools to build things with. Needle and thread to make clothes. But they all boil down to the same thing, holding shit. That's one example, and it's not even that specific."

"Okay, pick something else then."

"Like what? The assignment is to pick the most important part of the human anatomy, and you can survive without everything from hands to feet to—"

"Don't say dicks. You legit cannot turn in a paper about them."

"I wasn't gonna say that, fucker." I ball up a piece of paper from my desk and huck it at him. "But to be fair they are pretty important. You can't procreate without them."

"True, but the assignment was to pick the most intriguing part of the anatomy, not the most important, so you could pick the neck since it allows you to swivel your head, or the abs since they help with balance. Even if you stick with thumbs, since they can hold things, there's nothing wrong with giving several different examples of things to hold."

And now I'm back to dicks. Great.

Cam freezes for a moment, like someone has pressed pause on time. Then his lips morph into a mischievous smirk as he glances at me from where he's reclined on my bed. "That's the issue, isn't it?"

"Excuse me? "

"You've got an example of what to hold, but you can't write a paper about holding your dick."

Sometimes I hate how well he can read me. "What makes you think I'd want to?"

"The red tint taking over your face."

"You're no help." I spin back to face my desk and stare—again—at the blinking cursor. "You can go back to your room now."

"Hey, come on. Obviously, it crossed my mind too or I wouldn't have been able to call you out on it. I mean, your red face gave me a hint, but still." I hear a crinkling noise as something hits the back of my head, and I realize he threw my paper ball back at me.

Maybe I should just say it. Tell him what's really been on my mind.

"Yeah, but I keep thinking about it." I swivel to face him. "I have been ever since I walked in on Liam and Cruz." Somehow, I stop myself from saying anything more, giving him a chance to respond before I spew words I can't take back.

"Yeah, I figured that rabbit hole might go pretty deep. Sounds like you need to get laid. Get your head—both of ‘em—off that hamster wheel." Cam shrugs as if it's obvious, and yeah, it kind of is, except for the whole with who thing.

"Not a whole lot of options for that right now," I mutter.

"Wasn't there a girl texting you a few weeks back?"

"For a repeat, which I don't do. Besides." I pick at a non-existent piece of lint on my shorts, so I don't have to look at him. "Girls haven't really got me excited in a while, remember?"

"You were serious about that?" I can hear the shock in his voice even if I can't see it.

"Why would I lie about that?"

The lack of an answer has me bringing my eyes to his .

"You had just walked in on Liam and Cruz, so I thought that was something you made up to justify asking to see my dick." His words are measured, like he chose them with the utmost care.

God, I hope I don't regret this. "It was justification, but I didn't make it up."

Cam's tongue darts out to swipe over his lip. "You aren't interested in girls?"

"Let's not get hasty." I shake my head slowly back and forth, since it's not like girls don't appeal at all. "But the urge isn't as strong as it used to be."

"So…" He draws the word out like it'll somehow cushion the blow of his next question. The one I'm pretty sure we've both been avoiding for weeks. "Are you trying to tell me you like guys, too?"

"Maybe?"

Cam's so still I'm honestly not sure he's breathing, but I'm not either as I wait for him to react.

He blinks, clears his throat, and I watch his Adam's apple bob thickly as he swallows. When he finally speaks, I have to strain to hear the words. "Does that mean asking to see my dick wasn't a cross it off the list sort of thing?"

"It was a cross it off the list thing. Then."

"And now?" He swallows again, brown eyes regarding me warily.

Guess I'm really doing this.

"Now I think it's something we both want to try."

Cam traps his lips between his teeth, which seems fuller when he finally releases them. " Are you asking… So you were giving me sex eyes in the shower last week, you sly fuck," he accuses.

"You were looking at my ass."

"Technically I was looking at your back. Your ass just happened to be where all those suds were falling to. "

"Mmm." I smirk, not willing to say anything more just yet. It's a good sign that he hasn't said I'm crazy, right?

"What are you suggesting here?" Cam rubs his palms along his thighs, those chocolate eyes of his broadcasting a mix of wariness and wonder from beneath the hair that's trying so hard to hide them.

"I don't know, Camelot," I tell him honestly, since my head is a confusing jumble of thoughts that range from this makes perfect sense to what the fuck is wrong with me ? "Maybe I'm suggesting I have some questions that need answered."

"And you think I can help with that?"

"I think you're the only person who can help with that."

"How?" His swallow is louder than his question.

He's still not objecting, so…

"Show me your dick." I hold my breath, waiting to see what he'll do, letting it out by degrees when he does nothing, literally nothing , and the stillness in the room becomes excruciating. Seconds turn into minutes, then turn into… a lot of minutes as I wait for him to do something—anything—to prove he's not stroking out behind that astonished gaze.

Did I break him, or…?

Slowly—and I mean sloths move faster slow—Cam uncrosses his ankles and unzips his pants. The fingers I know as well as my own reach inside, and even though I can't see anything but the back of his fist, my mouth waters as I lean forward in my chair.

The sun-kissed skin of Cam's hand slides up and down his shaft once…twice…and comes to rest next to his thigh, giving me a clear view of the long, thick wood standing proudly between his legs. And by standing proudly, I mean the damn thing must be pushing eight inches, all of them reaching for the sky like a good little soldier standing at attention.

Fuck me, that's hot.

Hotter than any of the ones I've seen during my prostate research, which could be thin, or overly thick, or even curved. Cam's is the perfect length and girth for his body, with a nice pink, cut crown.

I tighten my grip on the arm of the chair so I'm not tempted to take things too far by touching it.

"Good?" Cam rasps.

Too astounded to speak, I lick my lips as I bob my head methodically.

"I need words, Kitcat," he grits, his tongue gliding over the sharp edges of his teeth.

"Take your shirt off." I've never been shy. I've never been unsure, that is, until now. I can't hide the waver in my voice if I tried.

Still, it's safe to say those aren't the words Cam was expecting since he hesitates a few seconds before whipping his shirt over his head, revealing the abs I helped sculpt, which make a stunning background for his engorged cock. Especially the transverse abdominus, which is so well defined it's like an arrow pointing the direction to treasure.

Fuck, I just labeled my best friend's dick as treasure. Well, it does sorta feel like there should be a light coming down from heaven or a choir singing to mark this occasion. Something beyond my cock's attempt to give his a standing ovation.

Cam must see, or sense, the activity behind my zipper since he mumbles, "Your turn."

I've never been shy about my body—I'm pretty fucking proud of it under most circumstances—but since reciprocating will leave no doubt as to the question of whether I like dicks, Cam's dick in particular, it takes me a second to get my arms to move.

Once I peel them off the arm of the chair, I tug my shirt off and unzip my pants, pulling out my cock, which stands tall without any encouragement from my hand. Not even the cool air in the room has the power to make it wilt, my swollen, red tip so full of desire it threatens to break free of my foreskin.

Mirroring Cam, I hold my arms at my sides to give him an unobstructed view of my length, which twitches slightly under his hooded gaze.

"Now what?" he asks with an uncharacteristically scratchy voice. "Do we just sit here and stare at each other?"

"You don't like the view?"

"I think it's pretty clear I do." His gaze drifts down to his lap before coming up to meet mine. "So, now what?"

"You tell me."

"No way, this is your show. What do you want?" His chest rises and falls with such precision it's obvious it's taking all his effort to hold still, which has my body pinging with excitement. Some nerves and a tiny hint of fear, too, but mostly excitement.

"Give me a show. Touch yourself."

Despite a shaky inhale Cam's shoulders lose their rigid edge as he peels his right hand off the mattress and uses his forefinger to draw a lazy circle around his crown. The exhale he lets out is one of pure relief, and it makes me instantly jealous that I can't feel any friction on my skin. I don't touch myself though. I don't want to miss even a second of what Cam's doing.

Using only his finger, he traces lines up and down his length, mapping the veins, and circling the ridge of skin that borders his crown. The corona—not the beer kind—if I remember right. As his tip begins to glisten, I realize he's spreading his precum around, which makes my blood pump so hard I swear it feels like my dick has a heartbeat.

Up and down, back and forth, around… Cam's shaft strains toward his finger as he drags it leisurely over his skin, his hooded brown eyes fluttering with barely contained lust as he teases himself for my benefit.

Okay, it's official. I like my best friend's dick. And as for Cam…he's fucking hot when he's turned on.

When Cam's finger snags on his slit he bites his lip, literally bites his lip to swallow the almost pained moan that tries to rumble up his throat. The sound leaves my own tip glistening, and I clamp my hands on the armrest of the chair, knuckles going white in a desperate attempt to keep them off my own throbbing cock.

Then Cam wraps his fist around his length and gives a firm tug, and I swear my hips move like they're tethered to his hand. The movement snags his attention, and he licks his dry lips before grunting, "Now you."

Mimicking his performance, I bring my finger to my tip, whimpering slightly when I make contact. The friction is so good it leaves me breathless, and my chest heaves in a battle for air. The pressure I'm applying is featherlight, but it feels so good on my poor deprived cock I'm instantly catapulted to the gates of heaven.

Tingles erupt along the path of my finger, spiraling outward to crash into each other. It's like tiny ripples that intersect when you throw a handful of pebbles into a lake. It makes my whole crown buzz with a current of electricity that stretches from my shaft to my balls to my toes, which curl on the hardwood floor beneath me.

"What's that feel like?"

"Huh?" Cam's question has me blinking my body back down to earth.

"Foreskin." He tips his head like he's using it to point between my legs. "What's it feel like? "

Glancing down it occurs to me that while Cam was circling his fingertip around the entire head of his cock, my fingertip is stationary on my foreskin as I circle it around. Huh, I guess that might feel different.

"It feels like silk sliding over me." My breaths are stilted as I let myself savor the friction I'm creating with just my finger, something I've done before, of course, but not to this extent. Not to turn someone else on as much as I'm turning myself on. "Wanna try?"

Cam's hand stops its leisurely pumping as the tension finds its way back to his shoulders. "You want me to… You want me to touch your cock?"

"If you want to know what it feels like, yeah."

Cam jiggles his head, like he's trying to knock some sense into it, but either it doesn't work or curiosity outweighs common sense because a second later he's scooting off the bed and coming toward me, his perfect cock bobbing with each step from where it's protruding from the open flap of his jeans.

Why is that so hot?

When he's close enough our toes could touch, he stretches out his arm, forefinger poised to take over for mine. And before I can think about the implications, I blurt out what I meant by try .

"Not with your finger, your dick."

His hand freezes in midair as he gasps, "What?"

"It doesn't feel the same on your finger."

"You want me to rub my dick against yours?" Since his is basically at eye level, I don't miss how it twitches when he speaks his thoughts out loud.

"If you want to know what it feels like, yeah." Cam takes a half step back as I stand so our cocks line up, but I make no effort to close the few inches of distance so he doesn't think I'm pushing him to do something he's not ready for. Hell, I'm not even sure I'm ready for it—I didn't exactly think it through before offering to let him experience foreskin—but since I'm personally a fan, I'm happy to let him explore it.

It takes a beat—understandably so—but when Cam fists his cock and pushes his hips forward, I do the same, bringing our tips together like they're kissing so I can pull my foreskin over his crown, "docking" us together. As much as I can with only one of us being uncut anyway.

Thank you, Urban Dictionary, for explaining in such detail how to do this.

"Fuck," Cam groans as I squeeze and rub his tip with my… Yeah, gotta stick with foreskin. Prepuce sounds too clinical for sexy times.

"You like?" I ask as I try to give him a thorough idea of what being uncut is like while simultaneously trying not to lose my shit because damn ... This is fucking epic.

"Holy shit." Cam braces a hand on my shoulder and leans forward until his head is resting against mine, both of us staring at how our bodies align to form what looks like a footlong dick. "It does feel like silk. How are you not hard all the time with this rubbing all over you?"

"You get used to it, I guess?" I move my hand so Cam, fingers twitching against the base of his cock, can take a turn rubbing me all over his head. And fuck…even though he's doing the exact same thing I was, it feels a million times better when it's his hand doing all the work, and I can just stand here and enjoy having my dick played with.

"It doesn't hurt?" he asks as he stretches me over his tip.

I shake my head without pulling it away from his. "It makes my dick tingle, and my balls feel heavy, but it doesn't hurt. Don't pinch it," I rush to add, "but you can squeeze harder and jerk us, and it'll probably feel incredible. "

Who would've thought coaching someone through a hand job and watching my dick like it's part of a science experiment would be just as hot as the research I've been doing lately?

I don't have time to marvel over that realization before the pressure on my shaft increases exponentially, and starts sliding over my length.

"Holy—" I gasp and spread my legs apart for balance as Cam's fist starts pumping us, a bolt of desire shooting from my tip to my nuts as the pressure threatens to level me.

Dear God, this feels phenomenal.

The strength of his grip and the speed of his hand are only a sample of the raw power I know he's capable of, and while it feels un-fucking-believable, we've already come this far, and I can take everything he has to give. I want it.

"Harder, Cam. Faster."

His biceps flex enticingly as he works his fist over our lengths, our combined precum seeping out over our shafts to ease the glide. The moisture is like a siren call to the nerves in my dick, making it so that the rest of my body feels numb while my cock feels ready to combust.

Pleasure coils at the base of my shaft as Cam works it relentlessly, squeezing and stroking and pulling like he's possessed, which I suppose might be true for both of us considering our current state. But fuck , if I don't love this, feeling my dick rub against his while his hand jacks me to within an inch of my life.

Cam's hand is my new guilty pleasure, and if I'm not careful I could become an addict.

A startled gasp is the only warning I have before my cock is suddenly drenched in warm, slick liquid. Despite a near feral groan that I can only assume means he's found nirvana, Cam doesn't falter, pumping through his ecstasy and spreading his cum all over my shaft .

The knowledge that my best friend just jizzed all over my dick has me moaning through my own release, and it's only because he has the presence of mind to steady me with a hand to the hip that my knees don't buckle completely.

Breathing ragged, legs shaky, heart pounding, I can do little more than stare at our footlong dick as the aftershocks reverberate through me. That definitely needs to happen again. I've never been so thoroughly sated, and we didn't even have actual sex, something I'm infinitely more open to now.

"That's a lot of cum." Cam is the first to find his voice.

It's a little shaky, but I'm gonna pretend that's because he came so hard and not because he's freaked out. Manifesting normalcy or whatever.

"Fuck yeah it is," I chuckle in agreement, wrapping my hand around the base of my softening cock and pulling back enough that I can release his tip from my hold. "Wasn't expecting so much but I guess that's high praise, right?" I pluck a handful of tissues from the box on my desk and hold some out to Cam.

"Guess so." He takes a few and starts wiping himself off. "Is foreskin envy a thing, because if so, I think I have it."

"If you had one you could wrap me up the same way I did you, and if we jack off like that all the precum is supposed to make it feel like a flashlight."

"You mean a fleshlight?"

"Yeah, whatever. You might've cost me a few brain cells just now." I finish wiping and toss the used tissues in the trash as I fix my pants.

" I cost you? It was your show, remember?"

"Take the compliment, Camelot."

"And what was that compliment, exactly?" He tosses his trash out and tucks himself away. "That I made you stupid? "

"Not stupid, momentarily lacking my baseline intelligence. That, and you have a nice dick."

"Jesus." He half-laughs, half-chokes. "Well, I'm glad it met your approval. Think you're capable of using the head on your shoulders to finish your homework, or is the one in your pants still in charge?"

"All set, Camelot." Somehow, I manage to merely sit instead of flat out collapse into my desk chair.

"Cool. Dinner later?"

"Yep, I'll find you when I'm done."

As Cam shuts my door and retreats to my room, I give myself a mental high five. And that's how you add sex to friendship without making it weird.

That was a fuckton easier than I thought it would be, and totally worth it given the epic scale of the orgasm I just had.

Although, now I'm a little sidetracked by the idea that foreskin is the most intriguing part of the human anatomy, because… damn .

I'll still write about thumbs, though.