By the time we made it back with wine, half the wedding party was already drinking whatever they found on the table. A few of the guests were still eating, plates of grilled salmon and chicken were being passed around, the clink of cutlery filling the air, and someone had clearly decided “lunch” was a loose concept because half the table was already on their third mimosa.
“What took you guys so long?” the maid of honor asked, eyebrows raised as we set the bottles of wine down on the table. Her tone was playful, but my stomach still tensed.
“Ralph couldn’t decide between red or white,” Calvin said smoothly, flashing that easy grin of his as he uncorked a bottle like it was nothing. “And then we ran into a couple of people in the hallway.”
I didn’t say anything. Just slid into my seat, eyes down, and tried not to look at either of them. But it didn’t matter, every time I reached for the bread basket or poured someone’s drink, my gaze drifted toward Ralph’s hand resting too casually on his thigh… or Calvin’s mouth as he smirked like he still had secrets tucked between his teeth.
The conversation around us swirled with stories about old college pranks, jokes about Nathan's haircut in college, someone complaining about the humidity but under it all was this unspoken current. A glance from Calvin. My brain running in a loop of what the hell just happened a while ago? and what the hell is going to happen next?
Ralph pretended like nothing happened, chatting with the other groomsmen, laughing at dumb stories, leaning back in his chair like he hadn’t just been face-deep in my ass twenty minutes ago. I didn’t know if I enjoyed having him rim me… I mean, I did, but when he sucked off Calvin, it felt too familiar. What did they mean by “usual stuff”? Was this… an ongoing thing?
It’s not like I’m jealous or anything.
I might be.
I don’t really have the right to be. Calvin’s clearly treating this whole thing as a sex weekend wrapped around his best friend’s wedding. He probably sees it as hospitality; entertaining his best friend’s younger brother who’s conveniently eager to get railed at every possible event.
But I needed to know.
So I smiled through lunch, answered small talk, and sipped my wine already wondering what "The Usual Stuff" meant.
We walked back together after lunch, that restless, unsaid tension clinging to us like the summer heat. Calvin kicked off his shoes the moment we stepped inside our shared bedroom and sank onto the bed, legs spread, one arm draped lazily behind his head. Those tight white pants left nothing to the imagination, and his shirt had ridden up just enough to flash a teasing sliver of abs. He wasn’t even trying, and somehow that made it worse.
“Fuck,” Calvin said, grinning, “I enjoyed lunch… and I don’t mean the one we ate at the table.”
I froze halfway across the room. I shouldn’t have found it hot, him casually calling my ass lunch but the way he said it, the way he sat there like he owned the air I was breathing, it did something to me. Not that I was about to give him that satisfaction.
“Cal…” I said, leaning back against the dresser.
He looked over lazily, smirking. “What?”
“I love eating out twinks,” he said, like it was just a casual fact.
“To be fair, I’m not a twink,” I shot back, even though the corner of my mouth was threatening to curl. “But… I do wanna ask about you and Ralph.”
“Masey,” he cut in, that lazy smirk faltering just enough to make me notice. There was a flicker of hesitation in his voice.
“It’s not like I’m jealous or anything,” I said, trying to keep it light, “but it felt like this wasn’t the first time Ralph sucked your dick.”
Calvin leaned back against the headboard, stretching his arms above his head like he was buying himself a few seconds.
“Alright,” he finally said. “Yeah… we’ve fooled around a couple times. It’s not a big thing, it just… happened. Started back in college. Couple of drunk nights turned into jerking off together. Then, sometimes, blowjobs. A few fucks here and there. Nothing planned, nothing serious. But every time we end up in the same place after a while apart… it’s like muscle memory, he just knows how to make me cum.”
“Well,” I said, leaning back and letting my lips curl just enough to look smug, “I did make you cum earlier during golf, so…”
I walked across the other side of the bed and sat down beside him. The cushion dipped under my weight until our shoulders brushed, just barely, but enough to make me feel the heat radiating from his skin. He didn’t move away. If anything, his smirk deepened like he enjoyed watching me inch closer.
I swallowed, eyes flicking to his mouth. “Uh… did you just say you guys fucked?”
Calvin turned his head toward me slowly, that lazy grin still in place. “Masey,” he said, voice low enough to make my stomach tighten, “don’t be shy. If you want me to fuck you, I will. Later tonight.”
The casual way he said it made my pulse stutter. Like it was just a fact, something inevitable, the same way he’d talk about ordering dessert or picking up a drink at the bar. His gaze lingered on me for a moment longer before he stood, stretching like a cat in the sun, his t-shirt lifting to reveal the line of muscle at his waist.
“I’m going to go help the guys set up for the rehearsal dinner,” he said, grabbing his phone from the table. “And after that… why don’t you join me for a swim. Post-dinner. Post-everyone-being-asleep.”
He paused at the doorway, looking over his shoulder with the kind of expression that made my knees feel unreliable. “I’ll be waiting.” Then he left me there, heart pounding, already picturing the dark water, the quiet, and him.
I hoped he didn’t mean he wanted to fuck me in the swimming pool.
I mean… I’m adventurous. I’ve fooled around in parking lots, sex after a hike, well...even in a storage closet once. But I’ve never been fucked inside a pool.
The thought made me grin to myself. How would that even feel? The cool water against my skin, his hands hot and rough under the surface, his cock pushing inside me while we pretended we were just floating around. But also… was that even logistically possible? Would he just go in raw? What about lube? Did chlorine make it hurt? Lol, I was actually picturing it.
And the thing was… I wouldn’t mind it. Not one bit. As long as he fucked me.
As I sat there, trying not to look as flushed as I felt, his voice seemed to echo in my ears.
“I’ll be waiting.”
And suddenly, all I wanted was for the night to get here faster.
_
By the time the sun dipped behind the hills, the place had that pre–wedding hush. I wandered in late, half an excuse to grab dinner, half an excuse to scope the room. The ballroom was almost ready for tomorrow night’s rehearsal dinner, chairs lined up just so, flower arrangements already half–fluffed, a couple of staff giving it those last loving touches before locking up.
I slipped out before anyone could rope me into helping, but not before my eyes found him. Calvin. He caught my glance and didn’t look away, that slow, knowing smile flickering like he’d already decided what was coming.
The night dragged after that; people lingering in the lobby, chatting in the bar, the groomsmen laughing too loudly over beers. I kept pretending to join in, but my attention was elsewhere, counting down until everyone crashed so we could…uhm.. “swim.”
My heart was thudding hard enough to feel in my throat. Yeah, we’d already had that filthy blowjob out on the golf course, and he’d eaten me out like a man starved over lunch, but tonight felt… different. Like the air between us had gone heavier. Like maybe, finally, it wouldn’t stop at teasing.
He winked at me, subtle but deliberate, then made this little hand gesture like 'check your phone'. I followed his fingers and saw the new message pop up.
Three emojis.
Calvin: 💦🏊♂️😉
I looked up at him and had to bite back a grin. Then I looked back down, thumbs moving before I could second-guess.
"I’m going to go chill with Nathan. Text me when you’re done."
Nathan’s room smelled faintly of aftershave and the champagne he'd been sipping earlier. He was slouched out on the bed in joggers, scrolling through something on his iPad when I walked in.
“Nathannn,” I said, dropping into the chair by the window. “You nervous?”
He glanced up. “For what?”
“The wedding, genius.”
He laughed, setting the iPad aside. “A little. But honestly, I’m more worried about forgetting my vows than saying ‘I do.’”
I smirked. “You’ll be fine. You’ve been practicing them in the mirror since last month.”
Our conversation drifted from wedding jitters to old college stories, spilling into random tangents. Hours passed without either of us noticing; just comfortable, back-and-forth - the kind of talk we hadn’t had in years.
Nathan and I have always been super tight, just not in the way most people might imagine. We weren’t the bros who were always hanging out, texting every day, or sharing every little detail. We had our own lives and our own differences, but the bond was always there. He was the first person I ever told I was gay... the only person I felt safe enough to tell back then. And deep down, I think he’d always known. I still remember blurting it out one night when I was in college, my heart racing as I braced for a reaction, and him just smirking before saying, “No wonder you have impeccable style.” It was his way of keeping things light, but I could feel the warmth behind it. Moments like that are why he’ll always have a special place in my heart.
So yeah, I was happy for him. Happier than I could even explain. He was marrying the girl he’d been with for over a decade, and it felt… right.
At some point, somewhere between swapping stories about his first date and debating which college party was the most chaotic, Nathan’s eyelids started to droop. A few minutes later, he was stretched out on the bed, fast asleep.
I glanced at the time - 1:37 a.m.
A text from Calvin popped up, sent just a couple minutes earlier:
Already waiting for you at the pool.
8=✊🏻=D💦👅
I realized I’d silenced my phone earlier, right after one too many spam notifications broke our flow. I’d been so caught up in talking to Nathan that I hadn’t thought to check it.
I got up quietly, easing my chair back into place so it wouldn’t scrape the floor, and slipped out into the hall. The estate was still, the kind of stillness that almost hums. Outside, the air was thick and warm, filled with the faint, constant sound of crickets or whatever insects come alive after midnight.
I walked all the way back toward the backside of the estate, my sandals crunching softly on the gravel path. The lights from the main house faded behind me, replaced by the soft glow spilling from the pool area. My heart was pounding in that ridiculous way it does when you already know what's going to happen, but you are still nervous.
The pool shimmered under the moonlight, its surface broken by slow ripples. And there Calvin was - shirtless, waist-deep in the water, his broad shoulders dripping with water and shining under the underwater lights. Tattoos curved over his chest and across his arms, dark shapes shifting and bending as he moved. The pale blue glow from the pool made every muscle stand out like a sculpture, his abs catching droplets that ran in thin trails down toward the waistband of his underwear.
He noticed me then, his lips curving into that slow, knowing grin as I walked closer to the water’s edge. “Masey… don’t be shy. Jump in.”
I swallowed hard, suddenly very aware of the heat in my face. My fingers tugged at my T-shirt, pulling it over my head, and then I stepped out of my pants. The night air brushed over my bare skin, cool enough to make me shiver, but the sight of him...dripping, muscled, and impossibly broad was doing a much better job of sending heat straight to my groin. My cock twitched, half-hard already, betraying me before I’d even touched the water.
I eased myself down onto the edge, my legs slipping into the cool pool first, toes curling against the tiled floor below. I slid in, gasping softly at the temperature, hands gripping the ledge behind me to keep myself afloat.
He glided closer, the water breaking gently around his chest, his eyes never leaving mine. “You wanna race?” His voice was light, teasing but the way he looked at me made my stomach tighten.
I let out a short, awkward laugh. “Uh… I actually… uhm…”
“What’s up?” He tilted his head as he swam the rest of the way toward me, closing the space until his chest was almost brushing mine. He leaned against the ledge beside me, his shoulder turned just enough that I caught the line of his tattoo under the water.
Then he let out a laugh, low and warm. “Fuck, Masey… don’t tell me you can’t swim.”
My laugh came out nervous and thin. “Maybe… not that well.”
Under the water, I felt his legs brush against mine. A moment later, his hands found my waist; firm, certain and pulled me toward him. “You should’ve told me then,” he murmured, his mouth close enough for his beard to scratch lightly against my cheek as his breath warmed my ear.
“I thought it would be… fun,” I replied.
He pushed his hips forward until the solid weight of his bulge pressed against mine beneath the water. My breath caught.
“You mean… that kind of fun?” he said, voice dipping lower, more dangerous.
His left hand slid up, cradling the back of my head, tilting my face toward his. His gaze held mine for a fraction of a second before his mouth closed the distance.
The kiss hit me like heat spreading under my skin.. it was wet, hungry, and unhurried. His lips were firm and insistent, tasting faintly of chlorine and something sharper, darker. His beard scraped across my jaw with every movement, each graze a little scratch of pleasure. The water sloshed gently around us as I tried to steady myself, my hands searching for his back and finding water soaked, warm muscle.
He chuckled against my mouth, the sound vibrating into me. “Mase… I got you,” he whispered, before tightening his grip on my waist. His hand slid lower, gripping the curve of my ass under the water and pulling me harder against him. Our cocks, trapped in our drenched underwear, ground together with a slow, deliberate friction that made my knees weak. His right hand stayed tangled in my hair, holding me in place, deepening the kiss until I could barely think...only taste, feel, and want more.
It wasn’t just a kiss; it was him taking his time, letting me know exactly how much he was in control here.
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