Season 3 Episode 3 | My Best Friend’s Brother Dylan (Patreon)

All characters depicted in this story are fictional and 18 years of age or older. Everything portrayed is safe, sane, and consensual.Due to the NSFW nature of the chapter, this episode will not have an accompanying picture.

Episode 3: This Dick Ain’t Tired

Dylan laughed low, kissed me once more, hard, claiming, then shifted, lining himself up.

I felt the blunt head press against me, thick and hot, coated from the lube he had grabbed from the nightstand in one quick motion. Dylan paused along my hole, just enough to make me whine, hips twitching up toward him without permission.

“Easy,” he murmured, voice rough against my ear. “You know how this goes.”

He pushed in slow, one long, steady slide that stretched me wide. Eight inches of thick girth, veined and heavy, the kind that always made the first inch burn in the best way. My breath caught, fingers digging into his shoulders. He didn’t stop, didn’t rush, just kept sinking deeper until his hips pressed flush against me and I felt every inch seated inside, filling me so completely my thighs trembled.

“Fuck,” I gasped.

Dylan groaned, low and guttural, forehead dropping to mine. “Still so tight. Every goddamn time.”

He stayed still for a long moment, letting me adjust, letting me feel him throb deep inside. His hands slid under my thighs, lifting them higher, spreading me wider. The new angle made him sink even deeper, pressing against that spot that turned my spine to liquid.

“Tell me how it feels,” he said, voice gravel.

“Full,” I managed. “So fucking full.”

He smirked, rolled his hips once, slow, deliberate. The drag of him pulling out a few inches then sliding back in made me arch, a broken sound slipping out.

“That’s it,” he said. “Let me hear you.”

He started moving then, long strokes at first, pulling almost all the way out before thrusting back deep. Each time he bottomed out he ground against me, hips circling, making sure I felt every thick inch. My cock leaked against my stomach, untouched, smearing precome between us.

Dylan’s mouth found my throat, teeth scraping lightly. “Been thinking about this entire dinner. You taking me like this. Legs shaking. Begging without even saying the words.”

I tried to laugh but it came out as a moan when he snapped his hips harder. “You talk too much.”

“Yeah?” He pulled out slow, torturously slow, until only the head remained inside. “Then make me stop.”

I clenched my hole around his cock on instinct. He hissed, eyes flashing.

“Fuck, Troy.”

He slammed back in, hard enough that the headboard thudded once against the wall. I cried out, nails raking down his back. He didn’t give me time to recover, setting a rhythm that was deep and punishing. Every thrust punched the air out of me, his thick cock dragging against every sensitive spot inside until my vision blurred.

He shifted, hooking one of my legs over his shoulder. The new angle let him go even deeper, hitting that spot with brutal precision. I sobbed his name, head tipping back.

“Dylan…”“There,” he growled. “Right fucking there.”

He pounded into me, relentless, sweat slicking his muscular chest, abs flexing with every roll of his hips. His biceps bulged as he held my thigh high, keeping me open for him. I could feel the veins on his cock pulsing inside me, the stretch, the heat, the way he filled me so completely I couldn’t think past the next thrust.

“God, look at you,” he said, voice wrecked. “Taking every inch. So fucking good for me.”

I reached for him, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him down. He kissed me messy and open-mouthed, tongue matching the rhythm of his hips. I moaned into his mouth, the sound swallowed by the kiss.

He broke away, breathing ragged. “Flip over.”

I barely had time to process before he pulled out, hands guiding me onto my stomach. I pushed my ass up instinctively. Dylan groaned behind me, palms spreading me wide.

“Fuck, look at this hole. Already red and puffy from me.”

He slid back in with one long thrust, bottoming out in a single stroke. I buried my face in the pillow, muffling the moans. He didn’t let me hide, one hand wrapping around my throat from behind, gentle but firm, tilting my head back so he could see my face.

“None of that,” he said. “I want to hear you…loud.”

He fucked me harder now, hips snapping, balls slapping against me with every thrust. The bed creaked under us, sheets twisting around my fists. His other hand gripped my hip, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise.

“Feel that?” he rasped. “Every thick inch stretching you open..”

I whimpered, pushing back to meet him. “Dylan… please…”

“Please what?” He slowed suddenly, grinding deep, circling his hips so the head of his cock pressed right against that spot without mercy.

I shook. “Don’t stop. Don’t… don’t stop.”

He laughed low, dark. “Wasn’t planning to.”

He picked up speed again, pounding into me with a rhythm that made my whole body jolt. Sweat dripped from his chest onto my back. His hand slid from my throat to my hair, tugging my head back so he could kiss the side of my neck, teeth grazing.

“You’re shaking,” he muttered. “So close already.”

I nodded frantically. “Yeah… fuck… yeah…”

He reached under me, wrapping his fist around my cock. One stroke, two, matching the brutal pace of his hips. I sobbed, overwhelmed, pleasure spiking sharp and bright.

“Come for me,” he ordered. “Let me feel you clench around every inch.”

That did it. My vision whited out, body locking up as I came hard, spilling over his fist, pulsing around him. Dylan groaned, thrusts turning erratic, chasing his own release.

“Fuck… Troy…”

He slammed in one last time, burying himself to the hilt. I felt him throb, thick pulses as he emptied inside me, hot and deep. He kept grinding through it, milking every drop, hips stuttering until he finally stilled, breathing hard against my shoulder.We stayed like that for long seconds, bodies locked together, covered in sweat and cum. He kissed the back of my neck, soft now, almost tender.

I let out a shaky breath, still floating somewhere between wrecked and blissed out. My voice came out hoarse. “So… you need help moving tomorrow?”

Dylan laughed against my skin, the sound low and rumbling through his chest into mine. “Spaghetti Noodle… I just need you on my bed afterwards. That’s it.”

I snorted, even though my body was still trembling from the aftershocks. “Don’t you ever get tired?”

He lifted his head just enough to look at me, one eyebrow raised. “Of fucking? Of fucking you?”

“Yeah.” I shifted under him, feeling the sticky warmth between my thighs, the dull delicious ache where he had stretched me wide. “Doesn’t your dick need rest or something?”

Dylan barked a real laugh this time, then brought his hand down in a sharp, playful spank on my ass. The sting made me gasp and clench around nothing. He grinned, wide and filthy. “Troy, Troy… this dick ain’t ever getting tired of entering your hole. Ever.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop the smile. “You’re so full of it.”

“Full of come, maybe.” He flexed his hips once, just enough to remind me he was still half-hard, thick and heavy even after he had emptied everything he had. “You complaining?”

I hooked one leg over his hip, then the other, pulling him closer until our bodies slotted together again.

“So… what, you have a bigger place? Bigger bed?” I asked, voice still rough from moaning his name.

He huffed a laugh against my skin. “Bigger everything.” His voice turned teasing again. “More surfaces to fuck you on.”

I laughed weakly, still trembling underneath him. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah.” He kissed my shoulder once more, then slowly pulled out. I hissed at the emptiness, the wet slide of his come leaking out of me and onto the sheets. He rolled me onto my back with gentle hands, hovering over me now, eyes softer than usual in the low moonlight.

“Stay tonight,” he said.

I looked up at him…sweaty, flushed, hair a complete mess, that familiar smirk softened at the edges into something almost fond.

“Yeah,” I whispered. “I’ll stay.”

He dropped down beside me, pulling me against his chest so my head tucked under his chin. One thick arm banded around my waist, the other sliding up to card through my hair. Our legs tangled naturally, skin on skin, sticky and warm and perfect.

For a while we just breathed. The city of Paris hummed faintly outside the window, but inside it was only us. His heartbeat thumped steady against my cheek. I traced lazy circles on his abs with one fingertip, following the deep cuts that disappeared under the sheet.

“You really okay with the move?” I asked quietly.

He hummed. “Yeah. This place was temporary anyway. New one’s got better light. More space. Actual kitchen instead of that sad little hot plate.”

I smiled into his chest. “You gonna cook for me?”

He snorted. “I’ll order takeout and fuck you on the counter. Close enough.”

“Romantic.”

“Very.” He tilted my chin up so I had to look at him. “You’ll like it. Big windows. View of the rooftops. Quiet street. No one banging on the walls when I make you scream.”

My face heated. “You’re never quiet either.”

“True.” He grinned, thumb brushing my lower lip. “But you like the sounds I make when I’m balls deep in you.”

I buried my face against his neck to hide the blush. “Shut up.”

He laughed again, softer this time, and pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “Never.”

His hand slid down my spine, slow and possessive, stopping at the small of my back. He rubbed circles there, like he was soothing me even though I was already boneless.

“Feels good,” I mumbled.

“Yeah?” His voice dropped lower. “You still leaking me?”

I shifted my hips experimentally. The slick warmth was still there, dripping slowly. “Yeah.”

“Good.” He sounded satisfied, almost proud. “Want you full of me all night. Want you to feel it every time you walk to work tomorrow..”

I groaned, half embarrassed, half turned on again despite how thoroughly he had already wrecked me. “You’re obsessed.”

“With this hole?” He slipped a finger down between my cheeks, gathering the mess and pushing it back inside me with one thick digit. I gasped, thighs clenching around his hand. “Yeah. Obsessed.”

He pumped once, slow, then pulled out and licked his finger clean right in front of me. My cock twitched against his thigh.

“Jesus, Dylan.”

He smirked. “Tastes like us.”

I shoved at his chest weakly. “You’re disgusting.”

“And you love it.” He rolled us so I was sprawled half on top of him, cheek pressed to his pec. “Get some sleep, noodle. You’re gonna need it.”

I settled against him, leg thrown over his hip, arm draped across his waist. His hand found mine, fingers lacing together on his stomach.

The rhythm was easy now. Breathing in sync. His thumb stroking over my knuckles. My leg tightening every time he shifted. Naked bodies pressed close, sticky and warm and completely comfortable.

I felt his heartbeat slow under my ear. His breathing evened out. But his arm never loosened around me.

I closed my eyes, letting the steady rise and fall of his chest lull me. The ache between my legs was a quiet reminder of everything he had just done to me. The come still leaking out of me was another.

 Everything that usually felt loose inside me settled.

The noise faded.

The doubt faded.

All that remained was him.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ Season 3 Episode 4 | My Best Friend’s Brother Dylan