My Best Friend’s Brother Dylan | S2 E5: Why is the door locked?

All characters in this story are 18+
This story is completely fictional.
All acts in this story are fully consensual.

Dylan saw Elliot dropping me off at the apartment earlier this morning. One thing led to another, and five minutes later, his cock was buried down my throat, his fingers twisted in my hair like he owned me. He didn’t even take off my hoodie. Just bent me over the couch, yanked my shorts down, and lined himself up behind me. His cock was thick and slick and pulsing against my hole, the head already leaking, just about to press in.....
and that’s when the knock came at the door.

“Shit,” I muttered, blinking. “That’s my sister.”

Dylan didn’t move. He stayed there, crouched behind me, cock still perfectly in position. His chest was heaving against my back, his breath warm and shaky. He let out a low groan, almost angry. “I don’t care,” he muttered, voice raw with need. “Don’t answer. Let her go. I’m so fucking hard right now...don’t do this to me, Spaghetti Noodle.”

“Are you insane Dylan?” I hissed, twisting underneath him. “She can’t see you literally about to fuck me in HER apartment.."

The knock came again...louder this time, more impatient.

I slipped out from under him in a panic. My legs felt like jelly, my shorts were tangled around one ankle, and my ass was still wet from his precum. Dylan stood, towering, bare-chested, cock still pointing straight up, flushed and twitching. His swim trunks were still balled up near the couch. He looked like sex itself.

“Put something on!” I said, dragging my shorts up.

“Don't really want to...” he muttered, reaching down and yanking on his trunks in a hurry. The fabric barely contained him. I threw his T-shirt at his chest, but he ignored it, already stalking toward the balcony with that same desperate tension running down his spine.

There was no time to argue. I ran a hand through my hair, pulled the hoodie down over my hips, adjusted my expression into something half-awake and confused, and cracked open the door.

Becca stood there in her running gear...tight black leggings, sports bra, her ponytail slick with sweat. She had an iced coffee in one hand and a suspicious look in the other.

“Why was the door locked, Troy?”

“It probably just latched,” I lied.

Her eyes narrowed as she looked me over. I probably looked wrecked—flushed, hair messy, lips swollen. Her gaze swept over the couch, the twisted blanket, the slightly ajar balcony door. She took a long sip of her drink.

“I thought I heard voices.”

“Must’ve been the neighbors,” I said.

Becca stepped inside, walking slowly. “It smells like cologne in here.”

I didn’t answer. My pulse was hammering in my neck. She glanced again at the balcony. I could already see where this was going. “It’s stuffy in here,” she said casually. And then, before I could stop her, she was already halfway across the living room.

She opened the sliding door.

Dylan was out there, leaning against the far end of the railing like he lived there. Still shirtless, still in those tight underwear, his chest rising and falling with the effort of pretending to be unfazed. His arms were crossed, his jaw tight. The bulge in his trunks was impossible to miss.

Becca froze. “Oh. Uh. Hi.”

Dylan gave her a nod. “I was just leaving.”

Cool. Calm. Like he hadn’t had his cock grinding into me thirty seconds earlier.

He stepped back into the apartment, grabbed his jeans off the floor in one motion, and walked out the front door without saying anything else.

The second the door clicked behind him, Becca spun toward me.

“Who was that handsome gentleman?”

I cleared my throat. “Dylan.”

She blinked. “Dylan Dylan? As in Jake’s brother? Are you fucking insane?”

I had no response.

“Oh my god,” she said, laughing, flopping onto the couch. “You’ve been getting absolutely destroyed by Jake’s hot older brother.” "Didn't he have a girlfriend or something?"

“He’s just a friend,” I said quickly.

She gave me a look. “Troy, he was in his underwear. And not in a ‘just woke up’ way. That was a man who was interrupted mid-thrust.”

“I wasn’t even....nothing was happening.”

Becca took another sip of her coffee, eyes glinting. “You were getting fucked. Don’t lie.”

I sighed. “We’re just… hanging out.”

“Babe. That man is a walking sex scene. His arms? His abs? I saw everything. I could draw a police sketch of his body from memory.”

I buried my face in my hands. “Please stop.”

“Honestly, I love it for you,” she said, grinning as she stood up. “You’ve got full netflix drama going on. Don’t forget to use condoms”

She disappeared into her room without another word.

I stood there, dazed. My cock was still semi-hard in my shorts. My ass still tingled from how close it had been...how much I still needed it. The only thing I could feel was my phone buzzing in my pocket.

Dylan:

Don't think for a second that this is over.
My apartment now!!!
I wanna fuck you so bad.

I didn’t think. I grabbed my spare keys and stepped into the hallway. The floor felt warm under my feet, the air cool against my still-sweaty skin. My legs were moving on their own.

His door was just across the hall.

I knocked once.

It opened instantly. He stood there....shirtless, still in his underwear, still hard.. His cock was visibly straining against the fabric, angry and red and leaking at the tip.

His eyes locked on mine, dark with hunger. "In my bedroom, now!” he said, voice rough and low. “You’re not going anywhere until I fuck you.”

He stepped aside to let me in.


My Best Friend’s Brother Dylan | S2 E6: "You’re Not Going Anywhere"