Mason arrives at his brother’s wedding estate only to find himself unexpectedly sharing a room with Calvin (his brother’s best friend and longtime secret crush).
Calvin’s fresh out of the shower in nothing but his underwear, and Mason’s in bed struggling to hide the boner he’s been sporting since he got there.
“Masey boy,” Calvin said again, drying his hair with the towel. “You find your bag?”
I nodded, still gripping the blanket like it could hide the very obvious hard-on in my briefs. “Yeah. The staff already brought it up,” I muttered, not trusting myself to say more. My eyes flicked down once more before I could stop them. His cock was still swinging gently in those black trunks, heavy and outlined like it was half-awake and didn’t care who saw. I tried not to stare but I failed miserably.
Calvin tossed the towel on the chair and walked over to the bed like nothing about this was unusual. Like he wasn’t shirtless. Like he wasn’t built like a fucking greek god.
He pulled the covers back on his side and sat down with a grunt. “Glad you found your bag,” he said, leaning into the pillows. “Otherwise you’d be stuck wearing my suit tomorrow.”
I glanced over, then immediately regretted it. One arm behind his head. The other resting casually on the sheet, just above where the outline of his cock was barely hidden.
“You’re fucking massive,” I muttered. “I doubt it’d even fit.”
Calvin turned his head, smirked. “I get that a lot,” he said. “But it’s usually not about my clothes.”
He winked.
I barked a laugh before I could stop myself. “Yeah, okay. Sure.”
But my cock didn’t think it was funny. It thought it was the hottest thing I’d ever heard. The heat in my cheeks flared instantly. I turned my face to the side, trying to keep it casual, but every muscle in my body was tense. My cock was throbbing under the blanket, already leaking into the fabric of my briefs. I shifted, trying to discreetly adjust without drawing attention.
Calvin shifted beside me, adjusting his arms and settling deeper into the bed like he’d already claimed his space. The mattress dipped slightly under his weight, and I could feel the warmth of his body bleeding into mine, his legs occasionally brushing against me beneath the sheets. It felt like a torture.
His scent drifted in with it. Clean skin, heat, the faint musk of sweat that hadn’t quite been washed away. Like he'd stepped straight out of a sauna and into my bed. I couldn’t stop breathing it in.
My cock grew harder, thick and aching under the sheets. I couldn’t hold off anymore.
Slowly, I glanced over my shoulder. Calvin’s eyes were closed, his breathing steady. Still. Unbothered.
Carefully, I slid my hand into my boxers. My fingers curled around my length, and I started to stroke; slow, quiet and desperate. My mind flooded with him. Calvin. Inches away from me. In bed. Shirtless. Smelling like heat and sweat and skin.
It reminded me of those nights I used to jerk off to his pictures on Instagram. Shirtless mirror selfies. Post-workout shots. That cocky grin. And now; now I didn’t have to scroll. He was right fucking there. His massive chest rising with every breath. That scent surrounding me. Too close. Too real.
My strokes got faster. I could feel my fingers wet with precum, leaking from the sheer thought of it; a hot fucking man lying beside me like it was nothing. Especially Calvin. Especially him.
It felt too casual. Too easy. Like my body didn’t get the memo that this wasn’t supposed to happen. I was scared of waking him up. But I’d been hard all day. Watching him in the estate, working, moving around like he owned the place. That white shirt in the morning, half buttoned, sleeves rolled. Then later, the blue one stretched across his back. Didn’t matter what he wore. It always clung to him like it knew exactly how badly I wanted to peel it off.
I bit down on a gasp, my strokes quickening under the covers, precum slick between my fingers. The image of him; shirt sticking to his chest, forearms flexing as he worked, that easy grin was too much. Too fucking much.
And then....
“I was waiting to see how long it’d take you to touch yourself.” His voice cut through the dark like it had weight. Heavy. Low. Calm.
My hand froze, still wrapped around my cock, fingers covered in wet precum, trying not to breathe too loud. Not to move. Like if I stayed still enough, I could pretend he hadn’t just said that.
His body shifted behind me. The mattress dipped. I could feel him turning toward me, that same impossible calm in his voice. “I knew you were hard earlier,” he said. “Back when you made that excuse to go look for your bag.”
I swallowed, throat dry. Turned my head just enough to look over my shoulder.
“Ca-lvin.”
He held my gaze, eyes half-lidded, voice dipping even lower.
“It’s okay,” he murmured. “It’s kinda hot. Having someone jerk off to the thought of you.”
I tried to speak. My voice came out low, rough. “You are awake.”
“Yeah, all that breathing,” he said, his voice dark with amusement. “You really thought I wouldn’t notice?”
I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to.
His gaze dipped. “You want help with that Monroe?"
I blinked. My throat went dry. “Uh-okay.”
That was all it took.
His body shifted behind me, turning fully now, closer than before. I could feel the heat of him at my back, the brush of his thigh sliding against mine under the sheets. Then came his hand...steady, warm...gliding over my shoulder and down my chest. Slow, unhurried, teasing me.
His hand dropped lower. Slid beneath the waistband of my boxers without hesitation. I exhaled, sharp and heavy, as his fingers closed around my cock; already wet, already pulsing in his grip.
He leaned in, breath brushing the shell of my ear. “Fuck,” he whispered. “You’re so wet.”
His body shifted behind me. Closer. His thigh slid between mine, and I felt it then; his cock, hard and thick, pressing against the curve of my ass through his briefs. Not grinding. Just there. Hot. Heavy. Intentional.
His fist tightened just slightly around me, stroking once, slow and possessive. I bit back a sound. My body arched, desperate without meaning to. His cock pressed harder against my ass. His breath behind my neck. His grip; tight, slick, perfect fisting around my cock like he owned it.
Fuck. I’d been hard all day. Watching him. Thinking about this. There was no way I could hold it.
“Uh-fuck--”
I came. Hot spurts over his hand, my stomach, the inside of my boxers. My body jerked in his grasp, breath shattered, heart pounding.
“Shit,” I gasped. “Sorry. I didn’t have time to warn you.”
He laughed; low, cruel, amused. “You’re such a slut, Monroe.” His hand came up from between my legs. Wet fingers dragging up my chest, past my throat, until they reached my face. He pressed two of them against my lips without waiting.
I took them. Opened up. Sucked the cum from his fingers like I’d been craving it. Let my tongue drag along every inch, lips closing around him slow. I could feel his breath catch just behind me.
He leaned in, voice rough at my ear.
“Next time,” he said, “I’ll let you taste my cum.”
His fingers slipped out of my mouth with a soft, wet sound. The taste of my cum still lingered on my tongue, warm and heady, but it was his presence I craved more; the heat of him, the weight of him, the way his voice settled into my skin like a bruise.
He didn’t speak right away. Just shifted behind me, his body pulling back slightly. I felt the change before I heard it; the slow fade of tension in his breath, the subtle amusement curling at the edges of his voice. “This wedding's going to be fun,” he said, quiet and low, like a promise more than a tease. Then he moved, rolling onto his back with the kind of ease that only made it more frustrating. Like none of this had even scratched the surface for him.
“But not tonight.”
I blinked, disoriented by how quickly the heat had turned to cool air. He didn’t look at me when he said it, just folded one arm under his head and let the other rest across his stomach. Casual. Unbothered. Like he hadn’t just made me come in his hand and fed it to me like I belonged to him.
“Sleep, Monroe,” he added, lips twitching. “We’ve got to take the groomsmen golfing at seven.”
And just like that, the night shifted. But my body still buzzed with everything he didn’t finish.
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