The Team's Slut Chapter 9: The Wedding 2/2

Everyone in this story is 18+

By the time we left the side room, the atmosphere in the chapel had shifted.

Someone had spoken to the officiant. The guests were chatting among themselves, checking their phones. And then the bride’s father arrived — alone.

He pulled Chase aside, speaking to him in hushed tones near the altar. I kept my distance, but I watched. I saw the slow nods, the clenched jaw, the way Chase’s hand briefly gripped the edge of the pulpit—as if he needed something solid. And then, a smile. Faint, fleeting, meant only for me.

The news passed quickly after that: she wasn’t coming.

Changed her mind. Said she wasn’t ready. Too young. Not today.

I should’ve felt something on his behalf—shock, pity, maybe even panic—but when I looked at Chase again, I didn’t see heartbreak.

What I saw—just for a second—was relief.

Not big. Not dramatic. But there was a faint shift in his shoulders. A soft exhale. Like something had been pulled off his chest.

Then it was gone.

He turned around, composed himself, and stepped up in front of everyone. He thanked them for coming. Said they’d talk more soon. That it was mutual. That these things happen.

He looked calm. Brave, even.

If you hadn’t known him, you’d have believed every word.

◆◆◆

We spent the rest of the afternoon quietly unraveling the day. I stayed. I helped send people home, organize rides, cancel the reception caterers. Smoothed things over. Mostly, I kept an eye on Chase.

He didn’t say much, just kept working. Packing up flowers. Carrying folding chairs out to the stack near the hall.

When the last guest was gone and the light outside had begun to fade, I found him in the chapel again. He was moving slower now. Less efficient. Like the adrenaline had worn off and the weight was finally settling in.

I walked up beside him as he lowered the last chair into place.

“You don’t have to do all this, I’m sure they have people for this,” I said.

He shrugged. “Feels better to move.”

I watched him for a second, then said, “You okay?”

He nodded, but it was more thoughtful than automatic. “Yeah. Honestly… I wasn’t going to marry her.”

I looked at him. “What?”

He met my eyes. “Yeah.”

There was a flicker of something in his expression. Not defiant. Not bitter. Just a calm kind of certainty.

But still — I wondered. I couldn’t help it. Was that just what people said when they got left? Was it something he needed to believe? Or something he wanted me to believe?

Either way, I didn’t push. I just nodded. “Okay.”

Chase glanced around the room one last time, then dusted his hands off.

“I think that’s everything,” he said. “Except my phone. I left it in the side room earlier. Mind grabbing it?”

“Sure,” I said.

The side room was quiet again.

Same bench. Same faded vase. The sunlight was softer now, coming in at an angle. I found the phone sitting on the chair, right where he’d dropped it. When I picked it up, the screen lit up automatically.

Notes app still open.

I wasn’t snooping. Not really. It was just there. At the top of the screen, a single title:

“If She Shows Up.”

I hesitated.

Then I read.

This isn’t cold feet. This is clarity.
I don’t love her the way I should.
She deserves more than a lie I can’t carry anymore.
I’ll take the fallout. I’ll take the blame. But I won’t live someone else’s life.

The last line hit harder than I was ready for:

If Darren’s still here after this... I’ll know.

I stared at the screen.

Then turned it off.

Outside, Chase was waiting at the chapel door. Light behind him. Shirt wrinkled, tie loose, hair messed from the wind.

He looked less tired. But when he saw me, he smiled. Just real.

And this time, I smiled back.

◆◆◆

The chapel was silent, echoing faintly with the last of the day’s light. Rows of empty chairs. Flower petals scattered like confetti that had nowhere to land.

I stood just inside the doors, Chase’s phone still in my hand. The note still glowing in my mind.

He didn’t see me coming. He was at the altar, fixing the final chair, head down. Shirt untucked, sleeves rolled up, body tense—but still so him. Still the man I hadn’t stopped wanting since long before this wedding ever existed.

I walked up the aisle without a word.

When he turned and saw me, I didn’t stop.

I crashed into him, mouth on his before either of us could speak, and he didn’t hesitate. He caught me in his arms like he’d been waiting for it. Like he didn’t need words either.

Our mouths were desperate—hot, messy, open. We stumbled backward until Chase hit the altar, and I pushed him up onto it, climbing into his lap like I belonged there. Because I did.

He groaned against my lips as I reached down to undo his pants, yanking them open, sliding my hand in to wrap around the cock I already knew by heart. It was hard in seconds. Familiar. Mine.

I dropped to my knees and took him into my mouth without asking, without ceremony, just hungry. I wanted him wrecked before we started. I wanted him trembling. I sucked deep, fast, jaw aching, spit pooling at the corners of my lips as his cock hit the back of my throat again and again.

“Fuck, Darren—slow down—” he gasped, voice wrecked.

I didn’t.

“Jesus,” he breathed, “you’re gonna kill me.”

“No,” I said. “I’m gonna ride you.”

Chase blinked, still catching his breath. I climbed into his lap again, already unbuttoning my pants, already slick with spit and need. I straddled him, reached back, and guided him in slowly—sinking down onto him inch by inch until he filled me completely. The slight pain was 100% worth it.

We both groaned at the same time. It was deep. Tight. Right.

I started moving—slow at first, grinding into him, rolling my hips. His hands found my waist, his eyes locked on mine like he couldn’t believe I was real.

“You feel so good,” he whispered, and it almost broke something in me.

I fucked myself on him harder, faster, nails digging into his shoulders, sweat dripping down my back. Every thrust was a declaration. Every grind a memory. The bachelor party. The blowjob. The way he looked at me when he told me he wasn’t going to marry her.

“You’re mine now,” I said, panting. “Say it.”

“Yours,” he groaned. “All fucking yours.”

He leaned back against the altar, letting me take what I needed. I rode him like I’d waited my whole life, because maybe I had.

And when I was close—too close—he shifted, lifted me up, and turned me around with a force that sent books sliding from the altar. He laid me down flat across the cloth, my legs hooked over his arms, and fucked me like he was sealing a vow.

His hips slammed into me, cock hitting deep, balls slapping, breath ragged, filthy echoes throughout the chapel.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he whispered, bending down to kiss me.

“Yours,” I gasped, choking on my own need. “I’m yours, Chase.”

And then—right when I thought I couldn’t take any more—he slowed. Looked me in the eye. And said it:

“Yesterday was the last time I borrow you to someone else. From now on… this is the only cock that’s going inside you.”

His voice was low, like a prayer.

Then he smiled—gentler, sweeter—and added:

“And your cock will be the only one going inside me. If you want?”

I couldn’t breathe. I nodded so fast it hurt.

“Yes. Yes—YES.”

He drove into me deeper. I snapped first, screaming his name, my whole body locking up as I hosed down my own abs and chest. He followed seconds later, screaming out, filling me, burying himself in my deep as he came inside me, filling me with his juices.

We collapsed into each other, sweat-slick and trembling, mouths pressed together, hearts pounding in sync.

Later, as we buttoned up again, still half-laughing, still flushed, I nudged him with my shoulder and said, “What happens now?”

Chase adjusted his cufflink, smirking like he already had the answer.

“Well,” he said, “looks like you and me are going to Aruba on honeymoon.”

I stared.

He held up the confirmation on his phone.

“Booked. Non-refundable.”

I shook my head, grinning like an idiot. “You’re out of your mind.”

Chase leaned in, kissed me soft and slow.

“Yeah,” he said. “But you’ll need a passport.”

He tilted his head. “So that a yes?”

I leaned in. “It’s an I do.”

He kissed me like we were already married.

“I do too.”