Evil MC's NTR Harem

"I feel like I'm cursed. Like my body betrayed me. I can't even give my wife the one thing she truly wants. What kind of man does that make me, Ross?"

And then, just like that, the weight broke him.

Mario began to cry—no longer holding it in, no longer pretending to be strong.

It wasn't a quiet, noble shedding of tears. It was raw, broken sobbing.

The kind that made most people uncomfortable. It was messy. Ugly.

Painful to witness. But Ross didn't flinch. He didn't look away or make a face.

He just stood there, letting his friend fall apart.

"It's okay, Mario," Ross said calmly, placing a steady hand on his shoulder.

"This too shall pass. I know it doesn't feel like it now, but you'll get through this. You're not alone."

He gave Mario a light squeeze and tried to lift the mood with a bit of humor.

"Besides, you've got options. You two could adopt a baby. Hell, a dozen babies if you want. You're rich as fuck. You could build a mansion just for toddlers and live like a king of chaos."

But Mario didn't laugh.

He simply shook his head, slowly, and looked up at Ross with tired, pained eyes.

"My wife, Ella… she doesn't want to adopt," he said, his voice low and hollow.

"She wants her baby. Our baby. Something that comes from both of us. That's all she's ever dreamed of."

Ross frowned slightly, sensing where this might be going.

Mario took a shaky breath. "And that brings me to you, Ross."

Ross narrowed his eyes a bit, not yet responding.

"I want you to help me give her what she wants."

There was a long silence between them.

The words lingered in the air like thunder before the storm.

Ross's expression didn't change right away. He was too calm. Too still.

"You're going to have to be a little more specific, Mario," Ross finally said, though he already had a pretty good idea.

Mario swallowed hard. "You're the only one I trust. You're strong, healthy, smart… and I know how much women want you. Hell, you've got thirty-something kids already, right? Fertility isn't an issue for you."

Ross's brows twitched slightly. "Mario…"

"I want you to be the donor. Or—or even more. If that's what it takes." His eyes welled up again.

"She doesn't know I'm asking. I just… I just want to give her this gift. Even if it can't come from me."

Ross leaned back slightly, processing the request.

It wasn't the first time someone had asked something outrageous of him.

But this… this was personal. And he was of course happy to do it.

"Do you love her that much?" Ross asked, his voice quiet.

"With everything I am," Mario replied. "Even if the child isn't mine by blood… I'll raise them as my own. I won't hesitate. I just want her to be happy. To feel whole."

Ross stared at him for a long moment. Then he closed his eyes, exhaled slowly, and said, "This isn't a decision to make lightly. For you. For her. Or for me."

"I know," Mario said quickly. "And I'll owe you for the rest of my life."

Ross looked at him again—this time with something unreadable in his expression.

Not anger. Not judgment. Just… thoughtfulness.

"I'll consider it," Ross said quietly.

"But only if you tell her. If she agrees, truly agrees… then we'll talk."

Mario nodded slowly. "Fair enough."

Ross stood up. "Let me know what she says. And Mario?"

"Yeah?"

Ross offered a small, wry smile.

"Next time you cry like that, at least give me a warning. I almost called for security."

Mario let out a hoarse laugh through the remnants of his tears.

"Deal."

***

One week later, Ross received another call from Mario.

His voice was quiet, almost strained, but steady enough.

They arranged to meet at Mario's house again, and before hanging up, Mario confirmed what Ross had been waiting to hear—his wife, Ella, had agreed to the arrangement.

Ross sat back in his seat, letting the weight of those words sink in. It was happening.

The green light had been given.

He remembered Ella from past team championship celebrations.

She'd always stood out from the crowd—elegant, poised, and undeniably beautiful.

She wasn't the loud, attention-seeking type either.

There was something refined about her, the way she carried herself, the way her eyes always seemed to observe more than she said.

Back then, Ross noticed her, sure, but out of loyalty and respect for Mario, a man who had been nothing but solid on and off the court… had never entertained any inappropriate thoughts.

She was off-limits. Untouchable.

But things were different now.

Mario, broken and desperate, had essentially offered her up. And she had said yes.

Ross wasn't a man to force anything.

He didn't chase women who weren't interested, and he definitely didn't involve himself with friends' wives.

But this wasn't some underhanded affair done in secret.

This was consented, discussed, and agreed upon.

If anything, it was Mario who came to Ross, not the other way around.

And now that all barriers were down, Ross found his anticipation growing by the hour.

He couldn't stop picturing Ella—how she'd look when she opened the door, what she'd be wearing, how her expression might shift from nervousness to desire.

Would she blush when she looked at him?

Would she hesitate, or would she be bold, already resigned to what was about to happen?

Ross ran a hand through his hair, already imagining the sounds she'd make—the gasp when he touched her, the soft moans as her body gave in to him.

He could almost feel the heat of her skin, the way her lips would part as he claimed her.

She would surrender herself fully, not because she was being forced, but because deep down, a part of her wanted this too.

And Ross? He had no plans to disappoint. If he was going to do this, he'd do it right.