My Best Friend's Brother Dylan

Part 3: Dylan Wasn't Asleep Either

"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, closer now. "You think I didn't notice?"

"No, man... I--" I tried to deny it, but it came out too fast, too weak. It didn't matter. We both knew.

Dylan let out a soft laugh behind me, right into the back of my neck. "It's okay," he said, his voice low, velvety. "I didn't mind."

I swallowed, frozen under the blanket. Jake was still sleeping inches away, his slow, steady breathing the only thing grounding me. And yet--my entire body was lit up, wired, hyper-aware of Dylan pressed too close behind me.

The heat of him. The weight of his breath. The smell of soap and skin.

"I know you backed into me on purpose," Dylan murmured. His voice was darker now, edged with something sharp and sure.

"What? Really?" I muttered, barely above a whisper.

His hand slid to my waist, fingers resting there like they belonged. "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. My eyes fluttered shut. 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 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."

My face burned. My heart pounded. Jake was snoring soft and easy behind me, completely unaware that his older brother's cock was grinding into me under the same blanket.

But I wasn't pulling away.

I did the opposite.

I rolled my hips just a little--slow, teasing--and felt him twitch against me. He was huge. I shifted again, a soft little bounce, like I was testing how deep the pressure could go.

Dylan groaned under his breath, quiet but broken.

"My cock is throbbing," he muttered. "Your ass feels so good, Troy."

His voice--God--it sounded so strained. Like he was hanging by a thread. Like he was about to ruin me.

"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. Quiet. Desperate. "Dylan..."

"Yeah?" His voice was cocky now. In control. Like he'd already won.

"You like how I feel?"

"Yeah," I breathed.

"I know you do."

He moved again--his hips rolling just firm enough for me to feel everything. The drag of him through both our shorts. The tension. The size. It was tight, slow, calculated. Like he wanted to torture me.

I arched into him again without meaning to. My body was betraying me, begging for more even as my brain screamed that this was insane.

"Fuck," I whispered, voice breaking.

"Shhh," he murmured, hand gripping my hip tighter. "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 leaking in my briefs, soaked and aching. His was hot and heavy and grinding into me with every motion. Every shift of fabric was friction, every breath was heat.

There was a moment--brief, ridiculous--where I thought I might actually come from this. From dry grinding. From just the way he moved, the way he breathed against my neck like this was the most natural thing in the world.

Then his mouth brushed my jaw.

"You're such a tease," he whispered. "Acting all shy, but you're rubbing your ass on me like a fucking spaghetti noodle."

I laughed--quiet, 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, that dark, low laugh in my ear. "You like when I talk like that?"

I didn't answer. I didn't need to.

Instead, I pushed my hips back again--one long, slow grind--and felt his cock twitch hard in reward.

He hissed through his teeth.

Then he leaned in close, so close I felt every word land on my skin like heat.

"You're here for the entire weekend, Troy," Dylan whispered, his tone lazy and dangerous. "Don't worry."

Then--smack.

His palm landed on my ass, sharp and firm. Not rough, just enough to make me gasp.

"I'll take good care of you," he murmured.

And then--just like that--he rolled away.

Pulled the blanket with him. Shifted onto his back like nothing had happened.

Like he hadn't just left me hard and aching and completely undone in the dark. With my best friend still asleep beside us, unaware that his brother was two inches away, breathing even, smug, and already half-asleep again.

I laid there, panting silently.

Soaked.

Buzzing.

Ruined.

And all I could think was--

I wanted more.