The Best Man | Part 9: His Offer (Patreon)

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

By the time we made it back with wine, half the wedding party was already drinking whatever they found on the table. A few of the guests were still eating, plates of grilled salmon and chicken were being passed around, the clink of cutlery filling the air, and someone had clearly decided “lunch” was a loose concept because half the table was already on their third mimosa.“What took you guys so long?” the maid of honor asked, eyebrows raised as we set the bottles of wine down on the table. Her tone was playful, but my stomach still tensed.

“Ralph couldn’t decide between red or white,” Calvin said smoothly, flashing that easy grin of his as he uncorked a bottle like it was nothing. “And then we ran into a couple of people in the hallway.”

I didn’t say anything. Just slid into my seat, eyes down, and tried not to look at either of them. But it didn’t matter, every time I reached for the bread basket or poured someone’s drink, my gaze drifted toward Ralph’s hand resting too casually on his thigh… or Calvin’s mouth as he smirked like he still had secrets tucked between his teeth.

The conversation around us swirled with stories about old college pranks, jokes about Nathan's haircut in college, someone complaining about the humidity but under it all was this unspoken current. A glance from Calvin. My brain running in a loop of what the hell just happened a while ago? and what the hell is going to happen next?Ralph pretended like nothing happened, chatting with the other groomsmen, laughing at dumb stories, leaning back in his chair like he hadn’t just been face-deep in my ass twenty minutes ago. I didn’t know if I enjoyed having him rim me… I mean, I did, but when he sucked off Calvin, it felt too familiar. What did they mean by “usual stuff”? Was this… an ongoing thing?

It’s not like I’m jealous or anything.I might be.

I don’t really have the right to be. Calvin’s clearly treating this whole thing as a sex weekend wrapped around his best friend’s wedding. He probably sees it as hospitality; entertaining his best friend’s younger brother who’s conveniently eager to get railed at every possible event.

But I needed to know.

So I smiled through lunch, answered small talk, and sipped my wine already wondering what "The Usual Stuff" meant._____________________We walked back together after lunch, that restless, unsaid tension clinging to us like the summer heat. Calvin kicked off his shoes the moment we stepped inside our shared bedroom and sank onto the bed, legs spread, one arm draped lazily behind his head. Those tight white pants left nothing to the imagination, and his shirt had ridden up just enough to flash a teasing sliver of abs. He wasn’t even trying, and somehow that made it worse.

“Fuck,” Calvin said, grinning, “I enjoyed lunch… and I don’t mean the one we ate at the table.”

I froze halfway across the room. I shouldn’t have found it hot, him casually calling my ass lunch but the way he said it, the way he sat there like he owned the air I was breathing, it did something to me. Not that I was about to give him that satisfaction.

“Cal…” I said, leaning back against the dresser.

He looked over lazily, smirking. “What?”

“I love eating out twinks,” he said, like it was just a casual fact.

“To be fair, I’m not a twink,” I shot back, even though the corner of my mouth was threatening to curl. “But… I do wanna ask about you and Ralph.”

“Masey,” he cut in, that lazy smirk faltering just enough to make me notice. There was a flicker of hesitation in his voice.

“It’s not like I’m jealous or anything,” I said, trying to keep it light, “but it felt like this wasn’t the first time Ralph sucked your dick.”

Calvin leaned back against the headboard, stretching his arms above his head like he was buying himself a few seconds. “Alright,” he finally said. “Yeah… we’ve fooled around a couple times. It’s not a big thing, it just… happened. Started back in college. Couple of drunk nights turned into jerking off together. Then, sometimes, blowjobs. A few fucks here and there. Nothing planned, nothing serious. But every time we end up in the same place after a while apart… it’s like muscle memory, he just knows how to make me cum.”“Well,” I said, leaning back and letting my lips curl just enough to look smug, “I did make you cum earlier during golf, so…”

I walked across the other side of the bed and sat down beside him. The cushion dipped under my weight until our shoulders brushed, just barely, but enough to make me feel the heat radiating from his skin. He didn’t move away. If anything, his smirk deepened like he enjoyed watching me inch closer.

I swallowed, eyes flicking to his mouth. “Uh… did you just say you guys fucked?”

Calvin turned his head toward me slowly, that lazy grin still in place. “Masey,” he said, voice low enough to make my stomach tighten, “don’t be shy. If you want me to fuck you, I will. Later tonight.”

The casual way he said it made my pulse stutter. Like it was just a fact, something inevitable, the same way he’d talk about ordering dessert or picking up a drink at the bar. His gaze lingered on me for a moment longer before he stood, stretching like a cat in the sun, his t-shirt lifting to reveal the line of muscle at his waist.

“I’m going to go help the guys set up for the rehearsal dinner,” he said, grabbing his phone from the table. “And after that… why don’t you join me for a swim. Post-dinner. Post-everyone-being-asleep.”

He paused at the doorway, looking over his shoulder with the kind of expression that made my knees feel unreliable. “I’ll be waiting.” Then he left me there, heart pounding, already picturing the dark water, the quiet, and him.I hoped he didn’t mean he wanted to fuck me in the swimming pool.I mean… I’m adventurous. I’ve fooled around in parking lots, sex after a hike, well...even in a storage closet once. But I’ve never been fucked inside a pool.

The thought made me grin to myself. How would that even feel? The cool water against my skin, his hands hot and rough under the surface, his cock pushing inside me while we pretended we were just floating around. But also… was that even logistically possible? Would he just go in raw? What about lube? Did chlorine make it hurt? Lol, I was actually picturing it.

And the thing was… I wouldn’t mind it. Not one bit. As long as he fucked me.

As I sat there, trying not to look as flushed as I felt, his voice seemed to echo in my ears.“I’ll be waiting.”

And suddenly, all I wanted was for the night to get here faster.-------------The Best Man | Part 10: The Swimming Pool