My Best Friend’s Brother Dylan | S2 E14: Sweat, Lights, Tension (Patreon)

All characters depicted in this story are fictional and 18 years of age or older. Everything portrayed is safe, sane, and consensual.

Dylan's skin was hot under my fingers.

That was the first thing I noticed. Not the way Dylan’s pecs strained as I peeled off his sweat-slick compression shirt. Not the way his abs flexed when I pulled the damp fabric over his head. Not even the way his eyes never left mine. Just the heat of his skin. Alive. Real. Familiar.

As the shirt finally came off, time slowed for a beat. His bare chest was slick with sweat, every line of muscle catching the studio light like it was sculpted just to tease me. His collarbone glistened. His abs; tight, defined, ridged like stone shifted as he moved, and my eyes couldn’t help but trail down, following the veins along his arms to the waistband of his black compression shorts.

And then lower.

Because of course they did.

The fabric clung to him, wet and low, and I could see the heavy outline of his cock beneath it. I swallowed hard. Every inch of his body was a reminder. Of last night. Of the way he moved when his cock was inside me. The way his breath had gone ragged right before he told me to keep looking at him while he claimed my hole.

Now I couldn’t stop.

My cock stirred in my jeans, slow and stubborn. I shifted my posture, trying to hide it, but it was no use. My body knew him. Knew what it felt like to be under him. Wrapped up in him. Open, aching, full.

And his eyes were locked on me like he could read every memory crashing through my head. Every craving I hadn’t figured out how to bury.

He smirked.And just as I tugged the shirt over his head, while my fingers grazed the bare skin of his ribs, he leaned down; close enough for only me to hear. “It’s him, isn’t it?” he murmured, breath brushing my ear. “The French guy.”

My hands stilled for half a second.

“The one who kisses your forehead while he fucks you.”, Dylan whispered.

I swallowed hard.

“The one who fucked you... and you still came to me after.”

My heart kicked hard against my ribs. I didn’t look at him. I couldn’t.His shirt finally slipped free from his arms, and the tension between us snapped like a pulled thread. Before I could catch my breath, Elliot’s voice cut in from behind the lens.

“Perfect,” he said, from behind the lens. “The sweat adds intensity. Let’s keep it raw.”

I stepped back quickly, heart pounding, forcing myself to look anywhere but at Dylan’s body or worse, his eyes. I rubbed my palms against my thighs like I could wipe the memory of his skin away.

“Let’s keep it raw,” Elliot said again, adjusting his camera settings. “Lose the protein tubs for a few, yeah? Just movement now. Light stretches. Natural poses.”

Dylan nodded and turned back toward the light setup, every muscle shifting like he knew I was still watching. I tried not to. I tried to sit down, cross my legs, scroll through my phone; anything that made me look normal.

But I couldn’t ignore the throb between my legs. Or the heat crawling up my neck. I wasn’t just remembering last night. I was reliving it. Every thrust. Every growl. Every time Dylan had said my name like it meant something.

I pressed my knees together tighter.

Dylan reached for a bottle of water. He unscrewed the cap, tilted it to his mouth, and took a slow sip; throat bobbing, biceps flexing like he knew exactly what he was doing.

Then, with the most casual shrug imaginable, a bit of water spilled.

Right onto his chest. And then his shorts.

“Shit,” he muttered, looking down at the wet patch now spreading low across his waistband. He didn’t exactly move fast to wipe it away.

“Guess I’m soaked,” he added, glancing up at Elliot with a smirk. “Adds to the whole sweaty post-workout vibe, right?”

“Honestly?” Elliot lifted the camera. “It’s working.”

But Dylan’s eyes weren’t on Elliot anymore.

They were locked on me.

And he was still smirking.

Like he’d finally seen it for himself. The one who kissed me soft and called me his. The one standing ten feet away, grinning behind the camera, with no idea his hands weren’t the only ones on me last night.

And unfortunately or fortunately; he was right.Dylan turned toward Elliot, rolling his shoulders back like he was limbering up. “Should I pour some more water over myself for the next shot? Really lean into the whole ‘beast mode’ thing?”

Elliot gave a short laugh. “If you want to give the people what they want.”

Dylan smirked, already holding the bottle. Without waiting, he tipped it again over his chest. The water spilled in slow rivulets down his torso, darkening the fabric of his shorts even further. It clung to his abs, traced every muscle like it knew the path better than I did. My cock twitched in my jeans, hardening painfully.

He glanced sideways; right at me. “Hope this isn’t too distracting for the studio audience,” he murmured, just loud enough to pass as a casual joke.I rolled my eyes, but my throat went dry.

The water caught the studio lights as it trickled down his chest, pooling at the waistband of his shorts. He let out a slow breath, then glanced sideways at Elliot. “These shots working for you?”

Elliot nodded behind the camera. “Yeah. Hold it. A little more angle; perfect.”

Click. Flex.Smirk. Click.Dylan flexed his arms, subtle but intentional. Every pose was sharp, practiced, hot. And I was sitting in the corner trying not to get hard. Which was going poorly.

I stood, subtly shifting to rearrange myself, and walked over. Elliot was already scrolling through the photos; Dylan’s glistening abs, his flexed arms, the way he smirked at the camera like he knew exactly what he was doing. He looked unreasonably good. Stupidly photogenic. The kind of man whose pictures came out looking like thirst traps even when they were for a protein brand.

Elliot leaned in beside me, his shoulder brushing mine, hand landing lightly on my arm as he tilted the monitor toward me. It felt innocent. Casual. But I still felt it...his warmth, his scent. That familiar, heady mix of expensive cologne and something deeper, something like red wine and summer skin.

He was close enough that I could feel his breath as he spoke. “Look at this one...see how the shadow hits just under his chest? That’s going to be the hero shot.”

I nodded. But I wasn’t really looking at the screen anymore. I was remembering last night. The way Elliot had kissed me slowly, with his hand on the side of my face like I was something fragile. The way he had looked at me after, like he already knew my answer before I did. The way his body moved with mine, patient, attentive, fucking me like he wanted to be memorized.

And now here he was, showing me pictures of the other man I’d let do the same.________My Best Friend’s Brother Dylan | S2 E15: Who Do I Choose? (Finale) | PT 🍑 Early AccessTroy's Note: Yeah, I can be so indecisive sometimes, haha. Episode 15 is officially the finale. I just couldn’t resist writing the water scene. :PFinale Releasing on July 10th for Gym BuddiesFor Personal Trainers, you can read the final part immediately.