Page 21 of Show Me 1

“One of our trainers.”

“You’re a sports dude, so you should know getting the lactic acid out is key.” He tensed with a groan as I pushed my thumb against the muscle again until it loosened. “So did you reshoot the shower video?”

“Nah. I’m just going to run with what I’ve got. I was too lazy to reshoot it.”

Sam tipped his head to one side as I gentled my touch on his bicep and worked the bands of muscle on his shoulders.

His eyes fell shut as I rubbed the base of his neck. I hadn’t exactly meant to move that far, but it was right there and, well, he was fun to touch. My occasional yoga and half-assed running regime along with a raging metabolism kept me lean, but Sam was sculpture.

I ran my fingers over his back, silently naming the muscles as I went.

A lot of my friends had figured out they were gay because they’d gotten crushes on their friends. Me? One of my first boners came courtesy of an anatomical drawing in sixth grade science class, the peeled-back flesh of the man showing bands of muscle along with his dick, small but visibly rendered between his legs. I mean, I’d known before then. Hell, I’d known in second grade, but seeing a man’s body like that for the first time had solidified it.

Sam made a pleased rumbling sound that I imagined would vibrate against my hand if it had been on his chest. “I take back what I said. You’re better than Pat.”

“Damn straight.”

“Oooooof,” he groaned as I rolled my knuckles over his spine and then trailed my fingers through his hair. “God, that’s good.” Goose bumps broke out over his shoulders, and I let my hands fall away reluctantly.

“Fine.” I sighed. “Let me see the video.”

“You sure?” He blinked, like I’d caught him off guard, but complied when I nodded, pulling his phone from the pocket of his track pants and skimming through it before passing it over to me.

He tucked one big leg on the bed and angled toward me so he could see, too.

I clicked Play. Three seconds in, my eyes were so wide I was certain my eyebrows were touching my hairline. “Good lord,” I whispered, though what was going down on screen was far from holy.

7

Sam

My shoulders were looser, and my bicep did feel a little better, even though Jesse had gone after it like a sledgehammer. I’d wrenched it at practice earlier and gritted my teeth through the rest of the drills, not wanting Coach to pick up on it. I’d had to sit out the latter half of spring training and go easy during summer training after I’d wrecked my shoulder in a scrimmage that had effectively crushed my chances of being drafted. Now that I was better, I wanted to make the best of senior year season and my last hurrah.

Warmth lingered over my skin where Jesse had touched the back of my neck.

Those touches had been lighter, softer, but I’d felt them deeper in my stomach, a buzzing sensation I wasn’t sure how to interpret.

I studied his profile as he stared down at the screen, his lips opening in a soft part. His pulse thumped steadily and visibly against the side of his throat, and he had these little wavy ends of red-gold hair that moved with the flutter of his heartbeat.

He lifted a hand and touched the hollow of his throat, and for some reason I felt it, too, in that same deep pit in my stomach, like it was me he’d touched.

When my cock gave a twitch of awareness, I frowned and pressed the heel of my palm against it. I was watching myself jack off, after all, so the arousal was probably natural, even if it was my own dick being featured.

But the longer I watched, the more I realized it wasn’t necessarily the video that was getting me hard. It was watching Jesse watch it, wondering if it was turning him on, looking for the evidence that it was. Would I feel the same if it was a girl? I squinted inwardly at myself and decided yeah, I probably would. Maybe? Jesse was a little different from everything else I knew, though. Guy or girl.

His fingertips kept moving, rubbing that little dish of skin at the base of his throat as he watched, brows angled down.

I was on the edge of my proverbial seat with anticipation for his critique, like I’d just handed over a shitty student film to Richard Roeper and was awaiting the pain of brutal honesty.

“Jesse?”

He blinked away from the screen, eyes lifting to mine expectantly. For a moment I wasn’t sure what I’d been about to say, whether I was checking on him or trying to ask something else. It was the weirdest fucking sensation, and I noticed it more and more lately when I was around him.

I’d never much cared whether someone liked me or not, but for some reason I really wanted Jesse to like me.Fuck me, that sounded dumb. Next I’d be asking him if my outfit was okay.

I ticked my chin toward the screen. “What do you think? Is it bad?”

He scrunched his nose thoughtfully. “You’re right about the steam. It’s a little distracting—the physical steam, not the steam rating, which is through the roof, haha. And there’s more camera shake than usual… I mean, from what I remember,” he quickly corrected. “It’s hot, though. Probably your fans will just be glad to have something new from you. No one’s gonna analyze and critique it the way I just did or anything.”