Sunday Heat
I woke up hard.
The kind of hard that made it impossible to ignore. Morning wood pressed hot and heavy against the inside of my boxers, but it wasn’t just biology. It was memory. Dylan’s mouth. His voice. The way he looked at me last night like he was seconds from bending me over that damn couch.
I blinked against the soft Sunday light filtering through the basement windows, my breath catching as everything from the night before replayed like a fever dream.
Jake was passed out on the other side of the room, sprawled on the pull-out couch with his mouth open and one sock halfway off his foot. Some old Die Hard sequel was still playing on mute in the background. The TV cast a blue glow over the room, and somewhere in the corner, an empty pizza box lay open like evidence of the crime we all tried not to commit.
But Dylan wasn’t on the couch anymore.
I sat up slowly, rubbing sleep from my eyes, my heart already picking up speed. Had he left? Did he actually—
My phone buzzed.
I grabbed it off the floor where it had fallen sometime during the night. One notification.
Dylan: Outside. On the front porch. Come find me.
I didn’t even hesitate.
I slipped out of my blanket cocoon, careful not to wake Jake, and padded quietly up the basement stairs. My body still ached — mouth sore, jaw tight, thighs remembering the tension of kneeling between Dylan’s legs. I flushed just remembering the way he’d whispered in my ear.
Tomorrow, I’m fucking you.
Outside. He’d meant that literally?
I cracked the back door open and stepped into the sunlight. It was barely 9 a.m., and the air still had that early-morning chill clinging to it, but the sky was clear, birds annoyingly cheerful. Dylan was on the back porch, sitting on one of the deck steps with a cup of coffee balanced on his knee. He was barefoot, shirtless, wearing only those same damn black athletic shorts from last night that I’d been desperate to get off him.
He looked up when I stepped outside. His mouth twitched into a half-smirk. “Morning, sunshine.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t take you for a coffee person.”
“I’m not. You kept me up.” He took a sip of coffee, then added, “Thinking about your mouth.”
I sat down next to him before I said something stupid like same.
Instead, I asked, quieter, “Can I ask you something?”
Dylan glanced over at me, brow lifted. “Yeah. Shoot.”
“All this time I thought you were completely straight.”
He was quiet for a second, then nodded slowly. “I thought I was too.”
I blinked.
“I mean,” he continued, eyes on the yard, “I’ve never really had a dude suck me off. Never kissed one, either. Before you.”
My chest squeezed. “So last night was, like… new.”
“New and fucking amazing,” he said, laughing under his breath. “Spaghetti noodle shit, man. One bend and it’s over.”
I snorted. “Wow. That’s beautiful. Poetic.”
“I’m serious,” he said, now looking at me. “My Ex! Ava, never sucked me off much.. The few times she tried, she used teeth. I’d leave with battle damage.”
I made a face. “Ouch.”
“So yeah, You were such a good boy with your pretty little mouth yesterday.” he said, leaning back with a stretch. “Turns out, I’ve been missing out.”
glanced at him, trying not to smile. “Do you have an off switch?”
Dylan smirked. “The only way to shut me up is to put my cock in your mouth. Right here. Front porch. Let the neighbors see what a cocksucker you really are.”
I choked on my breath, bursting into a laugh. “You’re deranged.”
“And you’re hard,” he said, looking smug as hell.
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
I didn’t reply. I didn’t need to.
Because the look we exchanged right then said everything — about what had already happened, and exactly where this was going.
And when he leaned in again, his voice dropped low, brushing right against my ear.
“Tonight,” he said, “I’m not stopping. I don’t care if Jake’s in the next room. I don’t care if he walks in. I’ll fuck his best friend in front of him if I have to. Let him see how good you take it.”
I froze, breath caught in my throat. His lips ghosted over my cheek, and I swear I felt that down my spine.
“You better be ready,” he murmured. “Because I’ve been thinking about last night since the second I woke up. And next time…” He exhaled. “I’m not stopping at your mouth.”
The heat that flooded my chest was instant and dizzying — part adrenaline, part arousal, part pure disbelief that this was real. That this was Dylan, and this was us now.
I swallowed hard, pulse racing. “You talk a lot of shit for someone who still can’t walk around without a cushion hiding his boner.”
He grinned. “I’ll hide my boner in your hole, next time.”
And just like that, he stood up, stretched, and walked inside, leaving me breathless, hard, and very aware that I was already halfway there.
Later, sometime after we’d both showered and the house had started smelling like actual breakfast instead of sex and secrets, Jake came upstairs. His hair was a mess, and he had that groggy, just-woke-up shuffle, rubbing his eyes as he headed toward the kitchen.
“Yo,” he muttered. “Do we have any coffee or did Dylan drink the whole damn pot?”
I turned, trying to act normal — like my life wasn’t spiraling into chaos with his brother’s tongue in my mouth. “Still hot on the stove,” I said. “Want me to pour?”
Jake took the mug I handed him and cradled it like it was the only thing keeping him alive. He took a long sip, eyes still half-closed, and let out a groan that was borderline obscene.
“God, that’s good,” he said. “I think Sophie’s friends drained all the social battery out of me.”
He sighed, deep and dramatic. “Man, last night wiped me out.”
I gave him a nod. “I bet it did.”
Jake didn’t notice the double meaning. Just groaned and slumped against the counter like gravity had a personal grudge against him. We made small talk—classes, the new coach, how the pizza guy forgot his garlic knots. The usual. It was almost easy to forget the heat of Dylan’s cock and voice echoing in my skull like a stuck song.
Except I couldn’t.
I spent the whole day in a strange limbo, stuck between pretending nothing happened and replaying every second of it. Dylan, somehow, managed to make himself invisible. After that moment in the kitchen, he’d disappeared again—probably downstairs or in his room, probably shirtless, probably grinning at the chaos he’d left behind.
Jake and I half-watched some Netflix true crime thing around lunch, and by late afternoon, he’d dozed off on the couch in the living room while I sat there overthinking everything. The sun was already beginning to set when he stirred awake, stretching with a groggy sigh.
hen, around 7 p.m., his phone buzzed.
Jake blinked at the screen, then sat up a little straighter. “Huh.”
“What?”
He turned the phone toward me. A text from Sophie.
sorry about yesterday
wasn’t trying to be weird lol
hosting kinda snuck up on me
home alone tonight tho
wanna come over? :)
I raised an eyebrow. “Well. That escalated.”
Jake smirked. “Guess I’m heading back over there.”
He was already grabbing his keys and fixing his hair in the reflection of the microwave.
“You’re going now?” I asked, keeping my tone casual even though my heart had started speeding up.
“Yeah. I mean, she’s home alone. I’m not gonna, like, not go.”
“Of course not,” I muttered.
The second the door shut behind him, my entire body went tense. Alone. With Dylan.
And not thirty seconds later—
My phone buzzed.
A text from Dylan.
when’s your next break from babysitting my brother?
I’ve been thinking about your mouth all damn day
I stared at the screen, pulse hammering.
He didn’t know.
He didn’t know Jake had just left.
He didn’t know we were alone.
And if I texted him back… if I told him…
Something deep in my stomach twisted.
Because I knew exactly what would happen next.
Author's Note: The Story is almost coming to an end. Chapter 11 and 12 are insane. Grab your tissues. If you are liking my stories, consider supporting me StoriesByTroy
