Season 3 Episode 14 | 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.Note: This is the first time I’m releasing an episode for all members (free and paid), as it contains no NSFW language. I hope non-members can also enjoy it, get a feel for what I do here on StoriesByTroy, and enjoy an update on the story that started my Patreon journey.

Episode 14: The LifeInParis Deal

I walked through the narrow streets of Saint-Germain-des-Prés with a smile I could not wipe off my face. The late afternoon sun bathed the old stone buildings in warm golden light, and the air carried the familiar mix of fresh bread, coffee, and distant river breeze. My steps felt lighter than usual, almost bouncy. I was not smiling because I was heading to meet Lucien. I was smiling because of what waited for me after this meeting.

Dylan had asked me on a date tonight.

A real date.

Not the usual dinners we had fallen into over the past few months where we would eat, talk a little, then end up tangled in his sheets. This time, he had looked me in the eye and said the words out loud. He wanted to take me out properly. He had not told me where yet, only that I should keep my evening free and dress nicely. The mystery of it made my stomach flutter with excitement. This was new. This was him stepping forward, calling it what it was instead of hiding behind the open agreement we had made. I giggled quietly to myself as I turned the corner, imagining what he might have planned. The thought made my cheeks warm. After all the nights I had spent exploring with Lucien, Dylan was finally claiming a piece of me in public, in daylight, with intention.

I reached Café de la Mairie right on time. It was the perfect spot for a meeting like this, a charming, relaxed Parisian eatery tucked beside the town hall. Light wooden tables spilled out onto the sidewalk under striped awnings, and inside the big windows showed cozy corners filled with locals chatting over juices and pastries. The place always felt warm and unpretentious, the kind of café where people lingered over fresh orange juice or mint tea without any pressure to rush.

I pushed open the door. The little bell chimed softly above me. My eyes scanned the room and landed on Lucien immediately.

He sat at a table near the back, looking sharp and composed in a tailored black blazer over a crisp white shirt with a slim black tie knotted neatly at his throat. The moment he saw me his face lit up, that quiet, assessing smile spreading across his features and making his blue eyes soften. Sitting beside him was a blonde woman in smart business-formal attire. Her straight hair was pulled back neatly into a low ponytail, and she wore a tailored navy blazer with a white blouse underneath. She looked polished and professional, the kind of woman who commanded a room without raising her voice.

I walked over. Lucien stood right away, pulling me into a warm hug. His arms wrapped around my back with easy familiarity, and he kissed both my cheeks.

“It’s good to see you, Troy,” he said, voice low and smooth.

I smiled and kissed his cheek back. “You too.”

He gestured to the woman. “This is Jessica. She manages my investments and works closely with several brands I support.”

Jessica stood and extended her hand with a warm, genuine smile. “Lovely to finally meet you, Troy. I have been following your work for a little while now.”

I shook her hand firmly. “Nice to meet you too.”

We all sat down. I ordered a fresh orange juice, Lucien an espresso, and Jessica a green juice. While we waited for the drinks, the conversation stayed light and easy. Lucien asked about my week at the patisserie and how the latest LifeInParis videos were doing. Jessica listened with quiet interest, nodding along.

Once the drinks arrived, Lucien leaned back slightly and looked at me with that calm confidence I had come to recognize. “Jessica and I have been talking about LifeInParis,” he said. “I showed her some of your recent videos, and she was quite taken with them.”

Jessica nodded, her British accent crisp and professional but kind. “Troy, darling, what you are doing is really brilliant. An American boy simply living his life in Paris, exploring the city with such honesty and appreciation. It feels genuine in a way most content does not these days. The French audience especially seems to respond to how you view them. Not as some exotic fantasy, but as real people going about their lives.”

I felt my cheeks warm. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

She continued, eyes bright with enthusiasm. “I have been watching your profile ever since Lucien introduced me to your work. The reactions are so authentic. Not only are foreigners living in Paris connecting with the sense of discovery, but the French people seem to enjoy seeing their city through fresh eyes. Especially that video you posted of the evening at Sacré-Cœur, where you sat on the stairs and spoke so openly about feeling at home here. The comments were lovely. People were moved by your honesty.”

I swallowed hard. A sudden lump formed in my throat. Back in my conservative town in America, I had spent so much time hiding parts of myself. My sexuality, my real feelings, the version of me that did not fit neatly into what everyone expected. I had always been careful, always guarded. Paris had changed that. Here I could walk down the street holding a man’s hand if I wanted to. I could post videos where I spoke openly about my life without worrying about who might see. The freedom felt enormous, and hearing that my small, personal videos were touching people, especially the locals, made my chest feel tight with unexpected emotion.

“Thank you,” I said quietly, voice a little thick. “That really means a lot to me. Paris has given me a life where I don’t have to hide who I am. It is nice to know that comes through.”

Lucien’s expression softened. He reached across the table and gently took my hand, his thumb brushing over my knuckles.

“If you are open to it, Jessica would like to step in and handle LifeInParis professionally. Introduce you to French brands for natural reviews, capture products in your everyday life, explore brand collaborations that feel authentic to your style. We both see a great future for this.”

I blinked, stunned. “But I am not an influencer or anything. It’s just a small little thing I do for fun.”

Jessica smiled kindly. “That is exactly why it works. Your openness is your strength. We would never want to change that. We simply want to help you grow it in a way that feels right for you.”

The conversation continued for a while longer, Jessica laying out ideas in a calm, professional way while Lucien added supportive comments here and there. I listened, nodding, my mind spinning with possibility. The offer felt real. It felt big. And yet part of me still felt like the guy who had started filming silly little videos on his phone just to capture how the city made him feel.

Lucien gave my hand a gentle squeeze. “You don’t have to decide tonight, babe. But if you are interested, Jessica and I would love to explore this together.”

The word “babe” slipped out so casually in front of Jessica and the busy café that I felt a quick flush rise to my cheeks. It sounded so natural coming from him, yet it made something twist warmly in my stomach. I nodded, trying to keep my voice steady. “Okay. Give me some time. I will think it over.”

Jessica checked her watch and stood, gathering her purse. “I have another meeting to run to. It was lovely meeting you, Troy.” She hugged Lucien and shook my hand warmly before heading out.Lucien stayed a few more minutes, finishing his espresso. “I wish I could spend more time with you,” he said, “but I have to get back to work.”

I smiled. “No worries. Thank you for this.”

He set the tiny cup down and looked at me with that quiet, thoughtful expression. “Can I walk you over to your patisserie? Or book you a cab home?”

I shook my head gently. “Uhm… Actually Dylan is picking me up. He must be here anytime now.”

Lucien’s espresso cup paused halfway to the saucer for a split second. He cleared his throat softly, the sound almost too casual. “Ah. Looks like he has decided to meet you in public after all.”

The words landed with a light edge, but there was no real bite in them. I laughed, the sound easy and genuine. “I think he is trying. He acts all jock and tough, but deep down he really cares for the people he is close to.”

Lucien nodded once, a small understanding smile touching his lips. He stood up smoothly, buttoning his blazer. “That is good to hear.” He paid the bill like the gentleman he always was, leaving a generous tip before giving my shoulder a light squeeze. “I hope the rest of your evening is wonderful.”

He glanced toward the large front windows. “Is that him?” he asked, nodding at a man standing just outside the café, looking around.

I followed his gaze. My heart did a quick flip. It was Dylan. He wore a fitted black polo that hugged his broad shoulders and chest perfectly, the fabric stretched across the defined muscles of his arms. Light blue pants sat low on his hips. He looked effortlessly handsome, the kind of handsome that used to appear in his Instagram photos back in America when he went on dates with women. Except this time he had dressed up for me. The thought sent a warm rush through my chest.

I stood up quickly. “Yeah, that’s him.”

Lucien and I headed out together. The evening air felt cooler now, carrying the faint scent of the distant bakery ovens. I tapped Dylan on the shoulder. He turned, and the moment his eyes landed on me his smirk softened into something warmer.

Lucien and Dylan’s eyes met for the first time.

Lucien smiled politely, extending his hand. “You must be Dylan.”

Dylan shook it firmly, his smirk deepening into that easy, confident expression he wore so well. “And you are the man who is going to make Troy a millionaire.”

Lucien laughed, the sound rich and genuine. “That’s the plan, if he lets us.” He glanced at me, then back at Dylan. “Take care of him tonight.”

Dylan nodded once. “I plan to.”

Lucien gave me one last soft smile, then turned and walked away down the street. He looked back once over his shoulder, a quiet, respectful glance, before disappearing into the evening crowd.

Dylan stepped closer. His hand came to rest at the small of my back, warm and steady through my shirt. The touch felt possessive in the best way, like he was claiming this moment after watching Lucien walk away.

“So that’s the rich helicopter man,” he said, voice low and warm against my ear.

I nodded, still feeling the buzz of everything that had happened inside the café.

Dylan’s thumb brushed lightly over my spine. “Okay, I cannot promise you a rich experience like that, but I can definitely promise you a good time, Troy.”

I looked up at him, my chest feeling full in a way it had not in a long time. “Yeah,” I said softly. “I am okay with that. More than okay.”

We started walking side by side down the quiet Parisian street. The city lights were beginning to glow softly against the deepening twilight, and the air felt alive with possibility. Dylan’s hand stayed at my lower back, guiding me gently as we moved through the evening crowd. For the first time in months, it did not feel like we were sneaking around or hiding behind an open agreement. It felt like something real. Something he was choosing.

I glanced up at him again, taking in the way the black polo stretched across his muscular chest and the confident set of his shoulders. This was the same Dylan who used to post pictures of his dates with women back home, always looking like the untouchable straight jock. Now he was here, dressed up, walking beside me in public, calling it a date.

My heart beat a little faster at the thought.

Whatever happened next, whatever choices I still had to make, tonight belonged to us.

And I could not wait to see where he was taking me.

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Best Friend's Brother Dylan S3Season 3 Episode 15 | My Best Friend’s Brother Dylan