My Best Friend’s Brother Dylan | S2 E15: Who Do I Choose? (Season 2 Finale) (Patreon)

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

There I was, in the middle of a photo studio, with Elliot standing beside me, his shoulder brushing mine; scrolling through shirtless pictures of Dylan, the man whose cock had been inside me less than twenty-four hours ago. And Elliot, the man standing next to me now, the one who had kissed me slow and fucked me like he cared, still had no idea.“He’s beautiful, right?” Elliot said, nudging my arm with a grin.

I blinked. “Huh?”

“Dylan. Great model. Great energy. Total natural.”

“Yeah. Sure. He’s, uh… photogenic.”

Elliot turned to me then, really looked at me. “Everything okay?”

My mouth opened. Nothing came out.

He tilted his head. “You’ve been weird all day.”

“I’m not...” I stopped.

Because Dylan had just walked over, toweling himself off. He looked at the screen over my shoulder. “Damn, I look good. Make sure to send me the unfiltered ones. And tag my protein partner, obviously.”

He glanced at Elliot. “You’re killing it, man.”

Elliot smiled. “You’re easy to shoot.”

Their handshake felt slow-motion. Their banter, casual. But I could feel it; the electricity between them. And me? I was standing in the middle of a charged wire.

Elliot looked between the two of us, then back at me. “So… how long have you and Dylan known each other?”

I hesitated. Elliot looked between the two of us, then back at me. “So… how long have you and Dylan known each other?”

I hesitated.

Then glanced at Dylan.

He was already across the room, towel slung around his neck, wiping down his abs as one of the producers showed him something on a clipboard. He nodded, said something with that half-smirk still lingering on his face. Like nothing was wrong.

Elliot’s voice was quieter now. Closer.

“Troy.”

I turned.

“Can we talk for a sec?”

He didn’t wait for a full answer. Just gestured toward the back hallway, near the emergency exit door. No one else was around. The sounds of studio chatter and camera gear faded as we stepped into the quiet space. The door swung shut behind us with a soft click.

Elliot didn’t look mad. Just-steady. Composed. The way someone looks when they’ve already run the conversation in their head.

“I didn’t want to ask you in the middle of the shoot,” he said. “I’m a professional.”

He paused, took a breath. “But the way you took off his shirt? The way he looked at you; like he’d already had you. Like he was waiting for more. And you…”

I stayed silent.

“You looked like someone who already knew every inch of him,” Elliot said. “Not a stranger. Not just a friend.”My chest tightened.

He kept his voice soft. “Are you sleeping with him?”

I didn’t answer.

Not because I wanted to lie. Just because the truth sat like a stone in my mouth.

Elliot’s jaw shifted. Just once. “That’s what I thought.”

I looked down.

“We aren't exclusive,” he added quickly. “I get that. And I walked into this knowing it might not last. But I still let myself fall.”

His voice caught; not dramatic, just real.

“And now I can’t unfeel it, Troy. I can’t stand here, watching you with someone else, and pretend it doesn’t affect me. Especially not when that someone looks like....” He stopped. Smiled thinly. “...well, him.”“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know you didn’t. But that’s not enough anymore.”, said Elliot.

A long, quiet pause passed between us. Somewhere behind the wall, I could still hear Dylan’s laugh; low and easy.

“I just…” Elliot finally said. “I don’t want to be someone’s second choice.”

I looked up.He met my eyes, held them. “So if you figure it out; if you know what you want - text me.”I didn’t move. Didn’t speak. I just stood there, full of a hundred things I couldn’t name. Elliot stepped forward, and before I could stop him or say anything; he pulled me into a hug.

It was gentle. Warm. A little too long to be just friendly, and a little too soft to be just casual. He held the back of my neck for a second when we pulled apart, like he didn’t want to let go but knew he had to.

Then he smiled, just barely and said, “Take care, okay?”

I nodded. My throat was too tight to answer.

He didn’t wait for more. Just turned back toward the studio, grabbed his camera bag, muttered a few quiet goodbyes to the crew and Dylan, and walked out.

No drama. No slammed doors. Just the slow sound of his footsteps fading down the hall.

And me, standing in the quiet, with Dylan still laughing somewhere behind the set…

…torn between two different kinds of want.

And still not ready to choose either.______________A minute passed. Maybe more. Then I heard Dylan’s voice behind me, casual but close. “What was that about?”

I turned. He was walking over, towel slung around his neck, damp hair pushed back, his hoodie sticking to his chest. His face unreadable, except for the slight tilt of curiosity in his eyes.

I shrugged. “Nothing.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t look like nothing.”

“It’s fine,” I said, too fast. “All good.”

Dylan didn’t press. Just looked at me for a beat too long, then nodded slowly. “Cool,” he said. “You still hungry?”

I blinked. “What?”

“Dinner. You wanna grab something?”

The question hung in the air like it was nothing. Just dinner. Just a maybe. But I couldn’t answer. Not yet. Because I knew whatever I said; it would mean something.

If I said yes…Was I letting Elliot go?

Elliot, who kissed me like he meant every second of it. Who held my face like I was something worth holding on to. Who kissed my shoulder after and whispered stay. Who looked at me like I was the answer to a question he’d been too afraid to ask. Saying yes to Dylan might mean letting that go. Letting him go. And I didn’t know if I could.

But if I said no…I’d be lying. To myself.

Because Dylan was the man I’d had a crush on since forever. Since that weekend with my best friend Jake, back when I pretended not to stare. Since that night in the basement where everything changed. He was the one who broke me open. Who touched me like my body was his to memorize. The one I couldn’t stop tasting, no matter how many times I said it was the last. My body had gotten used to him. The sound of his voice, the stretch of his cock, the way he growled my name when he fucked me.So what now?

Do I choose the man who fucks my brains out…Or the one who holds me close and kisses me like I matter?

Dylan asking me to dinner; that was new.Was it just another chance to get off…Or was he ready to take this further than our secret fucks in dark rooms?

And Elliot, he taught me that sex doesn’t have to be rough to be intense.That intimacy could feel like being lit up from the inside.But I liked the rough too. I liked being wrecked.And maybe that was the problem.I wanted both. I wasn’t ready to lose either of them.

From across the room, Dylan’s voice rang out...loud, easy, cocky.

“Spaghetti Noodle, you coming?”

My breath caught.

And for a second, I honestly didn’t know.⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ End of Season 2 ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯Troy's Note: Season 2 ends here. Messy. Dramatic. A little too honest. Thank you for following Troy, Dylan, and Elliot through all the chaos, the sex, the blowjobs, the tension and the feelings none of them were ready for.My Best Friend’s Brother Dylan | Season 1 and Season 2 RecapI wanna know; how’d you like this season?Whose team are you on?And seriously… what would you do if you were in Troy’s position?

Drop your thoughts in the comments <3