My Friend Broke His Arm And Asked Me for Help

I’ve always had good hands.
Like, really good.

It’s one of those things I’ve never bragged about out loud, but I’ve always known. My fingers are fast, precise, smooth. I can play guitar, piano, even a little bit of drums—Troye’s always been jealous of how easy it comes to me. I mess around with card tricks too, sleight of hand, all that flashy shit that always makes him roll his eyes until I actually fool him. And yeah… when it comes to jerking off, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t know I was talented there too. Years of practice, right? My hand has never let me down.

That’s why the whole thing with Troye felt so… twisted.

It started when he broke his arm. Stupid basketball match. One bad fall, one bad landing, and suddenly his dominant arm was in a thick white cast, wrapped from his wrist almost to his shoulder. I was there the first day he came home from the hospital, still pale from the meds, frustrated as hell.

He kept grumbling while I hung out in his room. Couldn’t tie his shoes properly. Couldn’t cut his food without help. Couldn’t even scratch his head without looking like a toddler. I made fun of him, of course. That’s what best friends do.

“Wait—so now you jerk off with your left hand?” I asked, smirking, tossing a pillow at him.

Troye didn’t laugh. He grimaced, shifting a little in his chair. “Not even that, man. It hurts when I stretch my other arm. I can’t do shit right now.”

I froze for a second, watching him squirm. His cheeks had a faint pink flush, and his legs fidgeted like he was embarrassed even admitting it. And suddenly my joke didn’t feel like just a joke anymore.

I tried to brush it off, but I couldn’t stop noticing the way he wouldn’t meet my eyes, how his good hand fiddled with the hem of his shorts.

Then he said it.

“Could you help me with that?”

I blinked, caught off guard. “What—like jerking you off?” I half-laughed, waiting for him to crack a smile, to tell me he was messing with me.

But he didn’t. He just looked at me. Serious. Quiet. Then gave the smallest nod.

That was the first time I realized my “talented hand” might be good for more than just magic tricks.

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