The Best Man | Bonus Scene: Mason’s Obsession with Calvin (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, in the previous bonus scenes you saw Calvin’s past with Nathan and Ralph. But did you ever wonder how Mason’s crush on Calvin really began? This bonus scene takes you back to Mason’s college years, when he was still just Nathan’s younger brother and first started getting drawn to Calvin. It shows how that crush grew into an obsession he could never shake.The Best Man | Bonus Scene: Locker Room ConfessionThe Best Man | Bonus Scene: Nathan & Calvin (PT🍑 Exclusive)────────────────

Looking back, I can’t even remember the exact moment it started. Was it Calvin’s laugh? That cocky way he filled a room? The way he never had to try to be the center of attention, he just was?

All I know is, one weekend back home from college, it clicked.

Nathan had told me, “Cal’s staying over too. You don’t mind, right?” Like I’d ever say no. Like I didn’t already know exactly what that meant: hours of pretending to be casual while my brother’s best friend took up space in our house like he belonged there.

Calvin had always been around. He was part of the furniture, part of the noise, part of every stupid inside joke. But that weekend… that’s when it tipped. That’s when a crush turned into something closer to obsession.

I got home Friday night. Nathan was out back, grilling, music on. And there was Calvin, beer in hand, leaning against the deck rail in a white t-shirt that clung to him like sin itself. The sun was setting behind him, lighting up the edges of his hair, the thick lines of his arms. He looked older, sharper than the boys I was used to at college. A man among idiots.

And he barely looked at me. Just a nod, a, “Hey, Mase. Been hitting the gym or what?” with that little smirk. My face went hot even as I stammered something dumb.

────────────────I should’ve been asleep hours ago. Back home for the weekend, back in my old room, the one with the posters still tacked crooked on the wall and the creak in the floorboards by the closet. I told myself I was too old to be jerking off here, like some horny lad who’d just discovered porn. But lying in bed with the lights out, my phone screen dimmed low on the pillow, I knew exactly why I couldn’t stop.

Calvin.

Nathan’s best friend. The guy who’d practically lived in our house half the time, who’d crash on our couch after parties, who’d wander into the kitchen shirtless, scratching his abs like it wasn’t anything, like he didn’t know I was watching.

I’d been crushing on him since forever. What started as glances turned into an obsession, one that followed me into college. And now, with him just a room away…sleeping off beers, probably snoring with that broad chest rising and falling…I couldn’t think of anything else.

My hand moved slow under the blanket, spit covering my palm, strokes lazy and deliberate. I closed my eyes and let the images play.

Him standing at the edge of my bed, sweatpants hanging low, cock heavy beneath the fabric. Him climbing on top of me, his weight pressing me down, big hands pinning my wrists into the mattress like I was nothing. The way his voice would sound in my ear…low, commanding, a little cruel. Open your mouth, Masey. Take it.

I bit back a groan, breathing through my nose, terrified Nathan and Calvin would hear through the walls.

In my head I was on my knees, lips stretched around his cock. I imagined the taste..clean soap and skin, the salty tang at the tip as I licked him slow, desperate for more. I pictured his abs flexing, the tattoos along his forearms catching in the dim light, his hand tangled in my hair as he guided me deeper. That’s it. Good boy.

I stroked faster, blanket shifting over my lap, heart hammering. Every detail made me ache. The trail of hair leading down his stomach, the way his thighs looked in gym shorts, the casual flex of his biceps when he lifted a beer. I wanted to lick down his chest, trace his tattoos with my tongue, taste the sweat on his skin after practice.

God, I wanted to know what it felt like to be fucked by him. To have him push inside me, stretch me open until I couldn’t breathe. I wanted to feel his chest against my back, his breath hot at my ear as he drove into me, rough and relentless. I wanted him to hold me down and make me take it, make me beg for more.

My hips lifted into my hand, slow and needy, precum dripping on my fingers. I didn’t want to cum yet…I wanted to stay right here, teetering on the edge, horny with the thought of him.

I pulled the blanket higher up my chest, covering the movement of my hand, and stared at the ceiling in the dark. Every shift of fabric felt dangerous. Every heavy breath felt too loud. But the risk made it hotter.

I pictured him walking in right now. Calvin, shirtless, in those grey sweatpants he always wore when he crashed here. He’d lean against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching me. He’d smirk like he knew exactly what I was doing under the covers. And he’d let me squirm before saying anything.

My stomach tightened, balls heavy, but I forced myself to slow down, edging, savoring the ache.

I imagined sliding down onto the floor in front of him, tugging those sweats down to his thighs. His cock, thick and hard, slapping against his stomach. My mouth watering as I leaned in, licking the head, suck’ing him shallow at first just to hear him groan. He’d put a hand on the back of my neck, gentle at first, then firmer, guiding me deeper until my throat burned and my eyes watered.

Fuck. I wanted it too much.

My fist twisted around the head of my cock, thumb smearing precum across the slit, my whole body trembling with restraint. I wasn’t going to cum, not yet. I wanted to keep imagining, to let the fantasy run wild. Him flipping me onto my stomach, shoving my face into the pillow, pushing inside me with a growl. Me clawing at the sheets, moaning into the mattress while he fucked me hard enough to make me forget my own name.

I bit my lip, blanket kicked low now, sweat dripping from my chest. My hand kept working my cock slow, just enough to stay dizzy with it.

And that’s when the floorboard creaked outside my door.

My whole body froze.

The door opened with a soft click, and in the dim light from the hallway I saw him. Calvin.

He stepped in, shirtless, chest broad and golden in the glow, abs carved deep. Grey sweatpants hung low on his hips, the outline beneath them impossible to miss. His hair was a little messy, his jaw shadowed with stubble. He looked like every fantasy I’d just tortured myself with…except real, standing there, blinking at me like he’d been searching for something.

His voice was rough with sleep, low and familiar.

“Masey…”

────────────────I jerked my hand back so fast I nearly kneed myself in the chin, yanking the blanket up to my chest, heart pounding so hard I thought it might shake the walls. My cock twitched angrily at the interruption, wet tip pressed into the fabric of my underwear, straining so hard it hurt.

And then he was there.

Calvin.

Framed in the soft spill of hallway light, shirtless, sweatpants hanging low like they were begging to be tugged down another inch. His hair was messy, sticking up at the back like he’d been tossing on the couch, his jaw shadowed darker than usual. He rubbed the side of his neck with one big hand, eyes squinting against the dark as they landed on me.

“Masey,” he said again, voice low and rough, that rasp he always had in the mornings curling over the word. “You awake, mate?”

I swallowed, shifting under the blanket, trying to adjust my shorts without making it obvious. My cock twitched again at the sound of his voice, precum soaking into the thin cotton of my boxers, spreading hot against my skin. My pulse was in my ears, in my throat, in my cock.

“Y–yeah,” I managed, my voice breaking like I was fifteen again.

He gave this crooked half-smile, stepping farther into the room. I could smell him before he even reached the bed…warm skin, faint sweat, his musk. Something deep in me clenched, and I had to force myself to keep breathing.

“Nathan’s snoring like a fuckin’ chainsaw,” he muttered, running a hand over his face. “Can I crash in here tonight? Just… can’t deal with it.”

For a second I thought I’d misheard. Calvin. In my bed. The thought hit like a punch to the chest, all the air gone. I’d just been stroking myself to the fantasy of exactly this, and now it was happening not the way I wanted, but close enough to make my cock throb painfully under the blanket.

“Yeah, bro… sure,” I said, casual, too casual, as if my voice wasn’t shaking. I shifted, making room, adjusting the blanket, trying not to look like I was hiding anything.

He didn’t hesitate. He just tugged at the drawstring of his sweats, loosening them, and then climbed onto the mattress like it was the most normal thing in the world. His weight dipped the bed, the springs creaking. Heat radiated off him instantly, his shoulder brushing mine for half a second before he rolled onto his back with a sigh.

“Thanks, mate,” he said, already sounding half-asleep. “You’re a lifesaver.”

I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

He was right there. Inches away. The closest I’d ever been to him in a bed, shirtless, his chest bare and broad, tattoos shifting in the glow of the streetlight sneaking through the blinds. My eyes kept darting over…his collarbone, the thick line of muscle along his arm, the faint rise and fall of his abs.

And fuck, the scent of him. Warm skin, faint cologne, that mix of sweat and soap that hit me straight in the groin. My cock twitched hard, pressing up against my waistband, a bead of precum soaking through. I clenched my fist under the blanket, willing myself not to move, not to give myself away.

I lay there stiff as a board, every nerve screaming, while he shifted slightly, throwing an arm above his head. His bicep stretched, veins visible even in the dim light, and my mouth watered with the thought of running my tongue along them.

I wanted to roll over and press against him, to bury my face in his chest and breathe him in. I wanted to slide my hand into his sweats, feel the weight of his cock in my palm, finally know what it felt like.

Instead, I stayed frozen, staring at the ceiling, cock throbbing relentlessly under the blanket.

My brain was in chaos. Every shift of his body, every brush of his arm when he adjusted, every exhale…it all made me harder. It was torture, the sweetest kind, and I didn’t want it to end.

He mumbled something half-asleep, voice low, the sound vibrating straight into my bones. His thigh brushed mine under the blanket, accidental but enough to send a bolt of electricity straight to my cock. I had to bite my lip to keep from gasping.

I pulled the blanket tighter around me, pretending it was for warmth, but really it was to hide the bulge in my shorts. Precum kept leaking, soaking into the fabric, sticky and hot. I could feel it spreading, could feel how badly my cock ached to be touched.

But I didn’t move. I couldn’t. Because this…just lying next to him, breathing the same air, his skin inches from mine was the closest I’d ever come to my fantasy. And I wasn’t going to ruin it.

My mind replayed every fantasy I’d ever had, except now they were sharper, more dangerous. Him rolling over, pressing against me, whispering in my ear. Him slipping a hand down under the blanket, finding me hard and desperate, stroking me slow while he kissed my neck.

I shut my eyes, letting the images take over, cock twitching, leaking more into my shorts. It was unbearable. It was perfect.

That night, I didn’t sleep. I lay awake for hours, listening to his breathing, feeling the warmth of his body beside me, aching with every heartbeat.

And that was it. That was the night my crush became something more. An obsession. Because if just lying next to him could make me feel this way…aching, desperate, undone what would it do to me if he ever actually touched me?

I didn’t know then. But I knew one thing for sure.

The way my cock had reacted, straining, leaking, desperate for him… it told me everything.

I wanted Calvin.

And I wasn’t ever going to stop wanting him.

────────────────The Best Man | Halloween Bonus: Masked Strangers