The Best Man | Halloween Bonus: Masked Strangers (Patreon)

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

Author’s Note: So… Mason’s and Calvin’s story ended (sort of?) at Nathan’s wedding. But since you boys love them so freaking much (and honestly, I just need an excuse to do anything with Calvin), here’s a little Halloween special bonus scene.

A little background:In the finale of The Best Man, you read that Calvin invited Mason to come with him to figure things out, to see where this thing between them could go. And Mason said yes. Since then, the two of them have been traveling around the States, slipping between city skylines and quiet escapes, playing tourist, playing lovers, and fucking like it’s their new religion.

Now it’s Halloween. They’ve landed in New York City, where the streets are alive with costumes and chaos, and someone slipped them an invite to a loft party uptown. Neon lights, masks, strangers everywhere. Tonight, they’re doing something different; a game they both agreed to before stepping out the door: they’re pretending to be strangers.

Masks on. Names forgotten. Calvin and Mason…. two men who know each other’s bodies better than anyone are about to act like they don’t.

────────────────The Phantom and the Fallen Angel

I told myself I was walking into this loft as a stranger. That was the deal Calvin and I made as we stood outside, wings folded against my back, the faint scratch of feathers brushing my shoulders. Pretend. That was the word. Pretend we had never met, that he was just another man at a party. Pretend I didn’t know every inch of his body already. Pretend I didn’t fall asleep against his chest just last night.

But the thing was… I could never mistake him for anyone else. Not in a crowd of a hundred people, not through smoke machines and strobe lights, not even behind a mask. Calvin’s body was carved into my memory…the way he stood, the breadth of his shoulders, the weight of his gaze even when hidden.

Still, I played my part.

The elevator doors opened into the loft and I stepped into a swell of bass, the air sticky with heat, cologne, and that sugary fog that came from too much spiked punch. The place was strung with fake cobwebs and orange lights, a fake chandelier above wrapped in hanging bats. People were pressed shoulder to shoulder…witches, vampires, superheroes, monsters..all laughing, shouting, grinding to the music.

My costume felt like a dare. Black feathered wings arched behind me, stretching just enough to brush strangers as I passed. The pants were fitted, the kind that clung like sin, and my chest was mostly bare under a sheer black shirt that caught the light in glints of silver. Across my face, a crystal mask shimmered, throwing back fractured reflections every time someone turned their head to look. I knew they were looking. That was part of the point.

But as much as I loved the attention, I was only searching for one man.

It didn’t take long.

Across the room, half in shadow, he stood like he owned the place. A long black coat trailed behind him, shoulders draped in fabric that looked part phantom, part royalty. The collar of his shirt was open, showing a slice of chest, and his mask…sleek, black, molding perfectly to his face made him look untouchable. Dangerous. And God, it worked.

Calvin. My phantom.

We had agreed to act like strangers, but his eyes betrayed him the second they found mine. Even through the mask, I felt it: that pull, that spark that had been building between us since Nathan’s wedding.

I wove through the crowd like the music was carrying me, wings brushing past vampires and superheroes, every step deliberate. I stopped just short of him, pretending to hesitate, pretending I wasn’t about to fold into him the way I always did.

“You’re staring,” I said, loud enough to cut through the music, low enough to feel like a secret.

His lips curled into the kind of smirk that made my stomach flip. “Maybe I am.”

I tilted my head, feathers shifting with the movement. “And what are you staring at?”

“The fallen angel who just walked in,” he said, voice deep, rough, familiar. Too familiar. It should’ve ruined the game, but instead it made the air between us buzz.

I leaned closer, the scent of his cologne wrapping around me. “Careful. Angels can be dangerous.”

He stepped in, closing the distance until his coat brushed my thigh. “So can phantoms.”

That was all it took. One look. One exchange. My hand found his chest, fingers grazing the line of skin revealed by his shirt. His hand caught my wrist, firm but not stopping me, just guiding, grounding. Around us, the party roared…music, laughter, bodies pressed too close. But for me, there was only him.

“Strangers, huh?” I whispered.

He tilted his mask just enough to bring his mouth close to my ear. “Never seen you before in my life.”

And then he kissed me.

Not soft or tentative…It was the kind of kiss that burned, that made me forget we were supposed to be playing a part. His mouth crushed against mine, his hand sliding around my waist, pulling me flush against him. The crowd blurred, the music thudded through us, and I clung to him like gravity itself demanded it.

I broke away, breathless, lips tingling. “Too many eyes.”

He grinned, a wicked flash beneath the mask. “Then let’s find somewhere darker.”

We slipped through the crowd, my wings knocking into a witch’s hat, his coat brushing a werewolf’s fur, both of us laughing quietly like we were sneaking out past curfew. We found the hallway at the back of the loft, lined with closed doors, dimly lit by a single flickering bulb. He pressed me against the wall, lips on mine again, rougher this time, hungrier.

“You really don’t know me?” I teased against his mouth, my hands tugging at the edges of his coat.

He shook his head, pupils blown wide, voice a low growl. “No. But I know exactly what I want to do to you.”

And before I could answer, his mouth was on mine again, rough and desperate, like he’d been holding back since the second I walked in. My back hit the wall, wings scraping against the paint, feathers bending awkwardly but I didn’t care. His coat framed us, swallowing me whole, and I let him.

I was supposed to be a stranger. He was supposed to be one too. But my body betrayed me…I leaned into him like I’d been starved, my tongue meeting his, teeth catching his lip, everything inside me twisting tighter and tighter. The bass from the loft throbbed through the walls, people shouting, laughing, music pounding. I didn’t hear any of it. All I heard was his breath and my own.

His hands slid down my body, over the sheer black shirt, the fitted pants that were already too tight. He cupped me through the fabric and I gasped, my wings twitching.

“Fuck,” I whispered against his mask.

He grinned, pressing harder. “That’s the idea.”

I tried to pull him back into another kiss, but he caught my chin, holding me there, just looking at me through the black slits of his mask. Like he was reminding me: strangers. Like he wanted me to believe it, even now.

“Name?” he asked softly.

“Mason,” I replied… My heart hammered at how good it felt to play this.

“Never heard of you,” he said. His hand slipped to the button of my pants, flicked it open, and I nearly buckled. “But I want to.”

The hallway wasn’t empty. People brushed past…pirates, zombies, a pair of shirtless devils carrying red cups. One of them glanced at us, smirked, and kept walking. Nobody cared. Nobody stopped. And that made it worse. Hotter.

Calvin or the Phantom, or whatever name I was supposed to give him tonight grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward the nearest door. The knob didn’t budge. Locked. We stumbled to the next one, and the next. Most were full…laughs, moans, music spilling from behind the wood.

Finally he shoved open a bathroom door and pushed me inside, slamming it shut with his heel. The light above the mirror buzzed faintly, a yellow glow washing over us. He locked it. Then he turned, eyes blazing through his mask.

I didn’t have time to breathe before he had me bent over the counter, my wings pressed awkwardly against the glass. His hands spread me wide, grinding against my ass through the thin layers of clothing.

“You’re mine tonight,” he muttered against my ear.

“Tonight?” I shot back, voice cracking as he ground harder. “You think one night is enough?”

His laugh was low, dangerous. “We’ll see.”

I turned, pulling his mask slightly off so I could crash my mouth onto his. His tongue shoved into me, deep and messy, while his hands worked me open. Pants shoved down to my thighs, feathers shaking with every movement. He pulled out his cock, thick and hard, pressing it against me through my underwear.

I moaned, pushing back, needy, reckless. The bathroom walls thudded faintly with the beat of the party outside. Somewhere nearby, a girl shrieked with laughter. None of it mattered.

“Fuck me, please,” I breathed.

That word seemed to snap something in him. He tugged my underwear down, spit on his hand, stroked himself, and then…finally slid his dick into me.

I moaned, loud enough that it echoed against the tile. He clamped a hand over my mouth, growling into my ear as he filled me, slow and brutal. The mask dug into my cheek. His coat brushed against my skin. My wings shuddered.

“Fuck, you feel so good Masey,” he groaned.

I clawed at the counter, biting into his palm, pushing back to take him deeper. The angle was perfect…each thrust slamming into me, rattling the mirror, making the light above flicker.

Outside the door, footsteps thudded past. Someone knocked once, laughed, and moved on. My heart stopped for a second before I felt him drive into me again, harder, like he wanted whoever it was to hear.

“Quiet,” he whispered.

“You’re not being quiet either,” I gasped back.

That earned me another thrust, deeper this time, so deep I couldn’t breathe. His lips found my neck, kissing, biting, suck’ing bruises where nobody would see. I turned my head, catching his mouth, kissing him desperately. His mask pressed cold against my cheek while his tongue set me on fire.

“Harder,” I begged into his mouth.

He obeyed. The counter shook with every slam of his hips, the feathers of my wings trembling against the mirror. Sweat dripped on my back. My cock throbbed, leaking against the counter.

“Touch yourself,” he ordered.

I didn’t even think. My hand wrapped around my cock, stroking fast, matching his rhythm. The friction, the pressure, his cock stretching me…it all blurred into one sharp edge of pleasure.

The bathroom door rattled again. Someone shouted, “Occupied!” and laughter erupted outside. Calvin didn’t stop. He grinned into my neck, fucking me harder, making sure whoever was listening knew exactly what was happening inside.

“Gonna cum,” I panted.

“Not before me,” he growled. His hand gripped my hip so tight I knew it would leave bruises. He slammed into me, again and again, until his breath turned ragged.

Then he broke, groaning deep in his chest, spilling inside me. His hips jerked erratically, filling me with heat. The sound of his orgasm, muffled by his mask against my shoulder, sent me spiraling.

I stroked faster, feathers twitching, body tightening and then I came too, hard, spilling across the counter in messy streaks. My knees buckled, my wings sagged, and I slumped forward against the glass.

He caught me before I slid to the floor, his hands firm, steady, still inside me. His breath was hot against my neck, his lips brushing my skin in a softer kiss this time.

For a long moment, the only sound was our panting. Then the party roared back into focus; the bass, the laughter, the pounding feet just outside. The world we had left behind to pretend we were strangers.

He pulled out slowly, tucking himself back into his pants, adjusting his coat. I cleaned myself with trembling hands, pulling my own pants up, wings shifting awkwardly. I caught his eyes in the mirror, dark and unreadable beneath the mask.

“Still strangers?” I asked softly.

He smirked, adjusting his mask. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

I turned, pressing my chest against his, wings folding awkwardly between us. “Either way,” he whispered, kissing me once more, “you’re still mine Masey.”

The knock came again, impatient this time. Someone yelled, “Hurry the fuck up!”

We both laughed quietly, masks still in place, before he unlocked the door. Together we slipped back into the party…two masked strangers, a phantom and a fallen angel…melting into the crowd like nothing had happened.

But my body knew better. My heart knew better. He wasn’t a stranger. He never would be again.

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