My Best Friend's Brother Dylan Was Supposed to Be Straight
by Troy
Chapter 3
"Dylan Was Grinding Into Me
"I saw you," Dylan whispered.
My body tensed.
Saw me?
"In my room earlier. When I was flexing."
My breath caught. I didn't answer.
"You were staring," he added. "You think I didn't notice?"
"No, man… I—" I tried to deny it, but it came out too fast, too weak.
Dylan let out a soft laugh behind me, right into my neck. "It's okay," he said. "I didn't mind."
I swallowed, frozen under the blanket. Jake was still sleeping inches away. I could hear his steady breath, slow and unaware. And yet—my entire body was lit up, wired, hyper-aware of Dylan right behind me, pressed too close.
"I know you backed into me on purpose," Dylan murmured, voice low and dangerous.
"What? Really?" I muttered, barely above a whisper.
His hand slid to my waist. "You're such a little liar."
I didn't move.
Couldn't.
Because the second he pulled me back into him again, I felt it —thick, hard, pressing against my ass through his shorts. I froze, breath sharp, but I didn't pull away.
Not even close.
My hips moved before I could stop them—just a tiny shift, slow and deliberate. Just enough to let me rub back against him, to take the shape of it. All of it.
Dylan exhaled, slow and shaky.
"You're seriously doing this while your best friend's asleep?" he whispered. "That's filthy, Troy."
I didn't say anything. My whole body was flushed, heart pounding so loud I was sure Jake would wake up and catch me with his brother's cock grinding into me like this.
But I wasn't pulling away.
I did the opposite.
I rolled my hips just a little—slow, testing—and felt him twitch through the fabric. God, he was thick. I moved again, gentle, a soft shake of my ass to tease it. To feel the shape of it press against me.
Dylan groaned under his breath.
"My cock is throbbing ," he muttered. "Your ass feels so good, Troy."
His voice—God—he sounded so strained, like he was trying not to lose it.
"You've been wanting this, haven't you?" he asked, grinding into me again, slower this time. "Always backing into me. Stealing glances. Getting hard whenever I walk around shirtless."
I whimpered. "Dylan…"
"Yeah?" His voice was cocky now. In control. "You like how I feel?"
"Yeah."
"I know you do."
His hips rolled again, firmer this time. His cock dragged up the curve of my ass, thick and warm and hot through both our shorts. I arched into it without meaning to. It was like my body was doing the begging for me.
He rutted again—slow and steady. It wasn't some wild dry-hump. It was tight, controlled, mean. Like he wanted me to feel every inch.
"Fuck," I breathed.
"Shh," he whispered, his hand tightening on my hip. "You're gonna get us caught."
"I can't help it," I hissed through my teeth.
"You don't need to," he said. "Just feel me."
We kept moving like that—tiny, slow, silent rocks against each other. My cock was hard and leaking in my briefs, throbbing with every drag of friction. Every time he rolled into me, I swore I could feel him pulse through the fabric.
There was a moment—brief, insane—where I thought I was going to come just from that. Just from grinding against him in the dark while Jake snored behind us like nothing was happening.
Dylan's mouth brushed my jaw.
"You're such a tease," he whispered. "Acting shy, but you're rubbing your ass on me like a fucking spaghetti noodle."
I laughed—quiet and breathless. "What does that even mean?"
"Loose. Slippery. Ready to get picked up with a fork."
"Jesus Christ," I muttered, laughing into the blanket.
He chuckled low in my ear. "You like when I talk like that?"
I didn't answer. I just pushed my hips back again—one long, slow grind—and felt his cock twitch against me in reward.
Then he leaned in close, so close I felt every word as his breath hit my skin.
"You're here for the entire weekend, Troy," Dylan whispered, voice low and warm. "Don't worry."
Then— smack .
His palm landed on my ass, firm and deliberate.
"I'll take good care of you," he murmured, with a lazy smirk I could feel even without seeing it.
And just like that—he rolled over, pulling the blanket with him.
Back to sleep. Like nothing happened.
Like he hadn't just left me hard and aching and completely undone in the dark.
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