Chapter 4
“Dude. Do you have morning wood?”
I blink my eyes open. Where am I? The ceiling is unfamiliar. There’s a water stain that I’ve never seen before. The light coming through the blinds is a milky gray. Oh, right. The new room. My new bed. Boxes all around me.
North’s face is hovering over me, too close. He’s grinning. Already dressed in a pair of athletic shorts and a tight Under Armour shirt. He’s holding a cup of coffee, the smell of it cutting through my sleep fog.
“What?” I mumble, trying to sit up.
“I said, do you have morning wood?”
Oh God. The events of yesterday afternoon come rushing back. The TV. The pizza porn. The race. The absolute deluge of cum I’d produced. And North’s naked body right next to mine. My face heats up.
“Because I had this great idea while I was in the shower,” he continues.
My brain immediately flashes to an image of North in our tiny bathroom, water streaming over that body, soap suds clinging to every plane of muscle. I push the thought away, fast.
“North, it’s…” I check my phone. “Seven in the morning.”
“Exactly. The best part of the day.” He sets his coffee on one of the unpacked boxes. “So? Morning wood? Pitching a tent?”
I can feel a heaviness down there, but it’s not a full-blown erection. More of a half-mast. “I’m not answering that.”
“That’s a yes.” He nods, triumphant. “Okay, so hear me out. You know Bangr?”
“Bangr?”
“The hookup app.” He sits on the edge of my bed, making it dip. “You swipe right if you wanna bang.”
“I’m familiar with the concept.”
“Well, we’re gonna make you a profile.” He whips out his phone. “We’ll get a good shot of the merchandise.”
“Absolutely not.” I try to pull the covers over my head, but he yanks them back.
“Come on, Gav! I wanna show you the power of that thing. We’ll see how many matches you get in the first hour. I bet it’s more than me.”
“You have a profile? On Bangr?”
“Of course. Everybody’s on it.” He’s already navigating through the app on his phone.
“See?” He holds it up. There’s a picture of him on the sideline after a game, pads off, jersey clinging to his chest with sweat.
His hair is damp and pushed back. Dirt on his jaw.
His bio says: Just looking for a good time. 6’5”. Quarterback. Let’s play ball.
Another photo shows him shirtless, flexing in front of a mirror. My stomach does that weird little flip thing again. I can’t believe this guy has been my best friend all this time, and I never really looked at him.
“Girls throw themselves at you,” I say. “Why do you need an app?”
“Efficiency, my friend. And variety.” He winks.
“But that’s not the point. The point is you.
We’re not gonna lead with the dick pic. That’s the grand finale.
We’ll start with a brooding shot of you with your sketchbook.
Chicks love artists. Then, once we’ve reeled ‘em in, we hit ‘em with the cannon fire.” He gestures toward my crotch.
I sigh, a bone-weary sound. “Can I please have some coffee before we start planning my digital prostitution?”
“Sure thing, boss.” He gets up and turns to the coffee pot he’d set up on top of the mini fridge. “But we’re doing this. Consider it my housewarming gift. I’m going to get you laid if it’s the last thing I do.”
Maybe you should do it yourself. The thought comes out of nowhere, shocking in its clarity.
A hot spear of electricity lances up my spine.
Where did that come from? I push it down, stamp it out.
Like a cigarette butt on the sidewalk. Don’t go there.
That’s a road with a dead-end sign, covered in poison ivy.
North hands me a steaming mug. I take a cautious sip.
Black, strong, and bitter. Just how I like it.
He knows how I like my coffee. He knows I hate loud chewing, that I’m allergic to shellfish, that I’m a side sleeper.
He now also knows the size of my dick and the way I look when I orgasm.
We shared something yesterday. Something more than just a race to the finish line, no matter how he framed it.
“Okay,” he says, sitting back down on the bed. He’s vibrating with energy, a caffeine-and-testosterone-fueled engine. “Show me. Let’s see the morning situation.”
I take another long gulp of coffee, hoping the caffeine will kick in and give me the strength to deal with this.
Yesterday, I would’ve told him to fuck off.
But yesterday feels like a lifetime ago.
And the fact that North is so enthusiastic about seeing my dick, so genuinely impressed by it, is… well, it’s flattering.
I set my mug down and, with a sigh of resignation, push the covers down. Then I hook my thumbs into the waistband of my briefs and slide them off. There. I’m naked. Exposed.
North leans closer, inspecting me like a prize pig at a state fair. “Fuck, yeah. There it is. Even half-cocked, it’s an absolute unit.”
My dick twitches at the attention. A little traitorous hello.
“See? It’s ready for its close-up.” North grabs his phone again.
“Okay, angle is key. We want to emphasize the length, but also the girth. Both of which are off the charts.” He stands up, holding his phone out, trying different positions.
“Maybe from the side? No, that looks weird. How about… hold on.”
He climbs onto the bed, kneeling half over me. The mattress groans under his weight. He leans forward, blocking the morning light from the window. His face is serious, like he’s about to throw a Hail Mary. Phone held aloft, aimed at my crotch.
I’m not sure how I feel about all of this, but my cock is getting on board with the program. It thickens, lengthens, rising from my thigh. The sight of North, so close, his breath warm on my skin, smelling like sandalwood soap and coffee, is having an undeniable effect.
“Okay, now put your hands behind your head,” he instructs. “Yeah, like that. Flex your abs a little. Good. Okay, this is it. This is the money shot.”
I’m fully hard now. Aching. He’s right there. If he would lower his head a few inches, he could…
“Perfect,” he breathes, and the camera shutter clicks. He takes a few more, shifting slightly each time. “This is gonna work wonders, Gav. You’re gonna be a legend on Bangr.”
He scrolls through the photos, zooming in, examining them critically. There’s this little furrow between his brows when he’s concentrating. He shows me one. My dick, in high definition, looks… imposing. A veined, flushed column against the pale skin of my stomach. It’s a good photo, objectively.
“That’s the one,” he says. “Okay, let’s get this profile set up.” Still sitting on my bed, his knees pressed against my thigh, he starts tapping away at his phone, fingers flying across the screen. I’m still lying here, naked, hard, my heart hammering against my ribs.
I watch him. The focused look on his face. The way he bites his lower lip when he’s thinking. I’m struck, again, by how handsome he is. His honey-brown eyes. The dark shadow of beard already coming in, despite having shaved this morning. Those full, kissable lips.
Whoa. Back the truck up. Kissable lips? Gavin, get a grip. You can’t think things like that. He’s your best friend. Your roommate. He’s doing you a favor. He’s trying to get you laid. With girls.
“So what’s the bio gonna be?” I ask, trying to distract myself from the train of thought speeding down the wrong track.
North doesn’t look up. He’s still typing, tongue poking out the corner of his mouth. “Already on it. Hold on.” A few more taps. Then he clears his throat, holds up the phone, and reads it out loud.
“Gavin. 19. Quiet type. Big surprise. Think you can handle it?”