Sept. 28, 2013. Mulholland Drive, Los Angeles, CA.
Scott
I almost laughed at how easy it’d been to drag Taylor away this time; it was clear I had him hooked already. I didn’t know where the night would end up, but I was feeling pretty optimistic as I led him out to the parking lot.
“Damn,” I heard him remark as we got to my car. It was one of the few things I owned that I was really proud of; a fully restored 1978 Challenger I’d bought myself when I turned 18. I’d done a lot of the work myself; it’d been something to keep me busy when things were falling to shit.
“Yeah, she’s a beaut. Just got her out of the shop this morning; had to touch up the detailing.”
“It’s… wow. I’m impressed.”
I unlocked the door for him, but he stood there a couple seconds longer, admiring it. I got in the driver’s seat and pulled out a pack of smokes, offering him one. “My pride and joy. So what’re you rolling in? Besides a tour bus.”
“A Suburban,” he replied glumly, taking the cigarette.
“Sorry, man. That’s just…” I tried not to chuckle, but the image of him driving a soccer mom’s car was just too funny. I lit up and took a drag before starting the car.
“Five kids,” he said, shrugging and pouting a bit. “What did you expect? I had a blue Mini, but we kinda… outgrew it.”
“A Mini?” I cocked an eyebrow, throwing him a teasing smirk. Taylor was a good half a foot taller than me, and I could barely fit in one of those without feeling like a Shriner.
“Yes?” He asked innocently, as if it was totally normal for a six-foot-two guy to drive something the size of a clown car.
“You’re something else,” I just laughed, shaking my head. We made small talk as I drove; the more I talked to Taylor, the more I realized there was more to him than he liked to let on. He played everything close to the chest, careful not to give away too much… which was pointless, because his actions told me way more than his words.
For someone with his reputation, I expected him to be a lot more jaded, or at least not as sensitive as he was turning out to be. I wondered if maybe I expected it because that was how I’d turned out. Sure, he had walls; they’re pretty much a requirement when you’re famous. But where mine were three feet of cinderblock, his were more like a picket fence.
It didn’t take much longer to reach the party; it wasn’t anything too crazy, but the two-story house looked pretty well packed when we got there. I pulled a bottle of vodka from behind my seat and grinned at Taylor; he looked a little nervous, but it’d probably been a while since he’d partied with this kind of crowd.
“You ready?” I asked we climbed the front steps, thumping music coming from inside. He nodded, but didn’t say anything; I made a mental note to keep an eye on him.
A beefy jock-type answered the door and bumped my fist as we went in; I handed off the bottle of booze and stripped off my jacket, tossing it on a chair loaded with coats and other articles of clothing.
“Good crowd,” I yelled over the noise to Taylor. “Drinks?”
“Um, I… yeah.” His eyes were darting around, and I wondered just how long it had been. We made our way through the throng, finally finding the kitchen where a giant cooler of jungle juice sat on the counter.
“Now this is a party.” I ladled up a cup and passed it off to Taylor, then got my own.
“Yeah… looks like it.” He took a sip and smiled, but it didn’t look totally genuine. I hoped the alcohol would help him loosen up so he could have some fun.
“Let’s make the rounds,” I suggested; he nodded, and followed me back into the living room. I said hey to people I knew, and some that I didn’t but wanted to, but I kept glancing back at Tay. He was making an effort, but he still looked pretty uneasy.
“Hey man,” I said, nudging his arm to get his attention. “You okay?”
“Hm? Yeah, I’m… I’m fine.”
“You sure?” I didn’t buy it; he looked anything but fine.
“Yeah,” he answered, nodding. “Just, you know, crowds. I’m… not that good with them. Go ahead and laugh,” he added after a second.
“Why would I laugh?”
“Because I’m always surrounded by people and I’m not good at crowds? Wrong career to get into if you get claustrophobic… Just seemed like that would amuse you.”
“I’m not that much of an asshole,” I said with a shrug. “Anyway, not like you chose it.”
“I did, though; the career, anyway. I just didn’t… think about the crowds. I mean, usually it’s fine.”
I looked around for a minute; if he knew he wasn’t good with crowds, why did he agree to come to a party with me? Did I really have him that hooked already? It felt damn good, but at the same time I felt a little like a jerk. Sure, I had no way of knowing, but still…
“Follow me.”
“Okay,” he answered without hesitation. It still amazed me how much he trusted me, after just one night. I was better than I gave myself credit for, apparently. I led him through the crowd, up the stairs, and into an empty bedroom. Once the door was closed behind us, I took a seat in an empty chair.
“Better?”
“Yeah,” Taylor sighed, sitting down on the bed. “Yeah, thanks.”
“Anytime.” I smiled at him, trying not to think too hard about him being on the bed. “So, what else is new?”
“Not much. Just, you know, touring, new album… all that fun stuff.”
I nodded, taking a long sip of my drink and leaning my head back. It’d been a long time, but not long enough to forget.
“Yeah, I remember those days… good times…” I smiled, but it wasn’t exactly happy.
“Yeah,” he echoed, pouting a bit. “Can I confess something?”
“That’s what I’m here for,” I answered, looking up. He blinked, surprised by my words; it was cute.
“I, um… may have googled you. Well, the whole band.”
“Oh yeah?” I grinned slowly; this could get interesting. “Find anything good?”
“Maybe…” His lips curled into a tiny grin that was one part sweet, two parts hot. “Some… interesting concert videos.”
“Oh jeez, here we go…” I snorted, rolling my eyes.
“What?” He played innocent, but I remembered some of our shows getting pretty wild.
“See anything you like?” I eyed him, smirking.
“Saw some stuff that… has never happened during our concerts.”
“Such as?” I laughed, trying to guess which antics he was talking about. He shrugged, trying to keep a straight face, but I saw the smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“Some stripping… some very obscene moves with a guitar… you know, the usual.”
“Gotta keep it rock star,” I said with a grin.
“Yeah, I guess…”
“I’m guessing you mean that one show in Spain, when we covered Shine?”
“I think that’s the one.”
“Yeah…” I chuckled, thinking about that night. “Pops wasn’t too happy about that, but the chicks dug it. Got me laid, anyway.”
Tay’s eyes widened, and his cheeks turned red.
“How old were you then? I mean, we’re like… the same age, aren’t we?”
“Fifteen, I think? Yeah, sounds about right. You’re what, 30?”
“Mhm, turned 30 in March.”
“Yeah, same here. I think you’re like two weeks older or something.”
“We were… nothing alike at 15,” he said, laughing. The smile didn’t last, though.
“So I got an early start, no biggie. Hell, that wasn’t even my first by a longshot.”
“Oh,” he coughed. “Well. Good to know.”
“Twelve,” I said with a smirk. “If you’re curious.”
“I wasn’t, but… okay.” He was looking nervous again, but the good kind. I wondered what he would do if I pushed a little harder.
“How about you?”
“Ummm, sixteen,” he admitted, blushing.
“Not bad,” I said with a shrug. I didn’t even try not to picture sixteen-year-old Taylor having sex, or to hide the grin the thought caused.
“I guess… it’s not twelve…” His cheeks were still adorably pink, but he tried to cover it with a smirk.
“Wasn’t anything to write home about. Two kids with no idea what to do,” I added with a chuckle. It’d been pretty bad; the girl must’ve thought she was auditioning for porn, the way she screamed and moaned. Really it’d been more of a distraction than a turn-on, and eventually I had to tell her to just shut up. I felt bad afterwards, but she told me she liked being yelled at… the start of a pattern, I’d later realized.
“Yeah, emphasis on kids,” Tay spoke up, jarring me out of the memory. “I mean, my oldest is almost…” He trailed off, then shuddered, scowling. I shook my head and got up, sitting next to him on the bed.
“Yeah well, not exactly a normal childhood though, was it?”
“No, not really,” he sighed.
“Not kids anymore though, are we?” I said, lowering my voice.
“No…” He eyed me nervously, but didn’t back away. All this talk of sex and jailbait Taylor was getting me in a playful mood, and he didn’t seem to be complaining.
“Sure as hell know what we’re doing now.” I looked him up and down slowly; he was trembling just a bit. “Cat got your tongue?”
He shrugged, blushing again.
“Lucky cat.” I winked, laying back on the bed. It was a cheesy line, but it worked; he rolled his eyes, then laid next to me, not close enough to touch, but not far off. “Do I make you nervous?”
“What do you think.” He stared me down, as if I should’ve already known the answer. Of course I did, but that wasn’t the point.
“I’m askin’ you.”
“Of course you do.”
I smirked at him, then pulled a cigarette from the pack in my pocket. I lit it and took a long drag, then handed it over.
“I swear I was trying to quit like… last week…”
“Don’t bother,” I said with a chuckle. “Gonna die anyway, might as well enjoy the ride.” I took it back and took another drag. “So, why?”
“Why what?”
“Why do I make you nervous?” I stared at the ceiling; I figured he’d be more likely to answer if he didn’t have to face me. He sighed, and I felt him shift; a glance showed he was looking away, distancing himself even further.
“You’re just… different. Kind of an asshole. Not really… what I’m used to”
“That it?” I turned my head to face him, and he did the same.
“The fact that you kissed me in the hallway of my hotel might have a little something to do with it, too.”
“A little something, eh?” I couldn’t keep from grinning; knowing I was getting to him was one thing, but making him admit it was a whole other level of fun.
“You’re just… Well, I don’t think forward is a strong enough word for you.”
I rolled onto my side to face him fully. “Is that a problem for ya?”
“Not especially.”
“Good.” I leaned over and kissed him, not trying to be gentle. He whimpered, but kissed me back. I let him have it for a couple seconds, then rolled over again and took another drag of my cigarette. I heard him panting, and could feel him staring, but I only glanced at him. “Kill it,” I said, handing him the rest of the smoke.
“Thanks.” He took it with slightly shaking fingers, inhaling deeply.
“Why do I really make you nervous?” We were circling the truth of it now, and I needed to hear him say it. He sighed heavily and looked away; when he spoke, his voice was almost too quiet to hear.
“Because… because you are so bad for me…”
“Is that so?” I chuckled, more at how hard he was fighting it than anything else.
“Seems that way, yes.”
“Maybe bad’s just what you need.” That got his attention; he glanced at me skeptically. “Seems like you’ve got a whole world full of ‘good for you,’ and it ain’t doin’ jack to make you happy.”
It seemed obvious to me, but it was weird how he couldn’t see it. He had all the trappings of a perfect life; dream career, wife, kids, fans… wasn’t that what drew me to him at first? Jealousy, bitterness about him having everything I should’ve had? Well, I could do without the wife and kids, but the lifestyle… But getting to know him, it was clear as day that in spite of all that, or hell, maybe because of it, he was completely miserable. And for whatever fucked up reason, I felt like I needed to fix that.
“Maybe you need a little bad.”
Taylor
Scott’s words echoed in my mind, the mirror image of Zac’s warnings about him. Zac had been adamant that Scott was nothing but bad news, capable of nothing but dragging me back down into the depression Zac had watched me suffer through years ago. What he didn’t understand, though, were all the root causes of that depression. Did my coping mechanisms make it worse? Probably. But they weren’t the cause. Scott, unlike Zac, understood that following all the rules and doing everything I was supposed to do didn’t magically make everything okay.
With a heavy sigh, because it still pained me a little to admit that Scott was right, I said, “Yeah, well… maybe.”
“I ain’t gonna force you,” Scott replied. With a thoughtful look on his face, he added, “Unless you’re into that… if so, we can talk.”
That was followed by a wink that left me blinking and stammering.
Scott eyed me for a moment, then smirked. “Thought so.”
“I didn’t say I was into that…” I protested, even though by that point, I didn’t even believe me. Scott just gave me a look, his head lowered slightly to make him look more serious and his gray-blue eyes boring straight into me. Feeling my lips jutting out into a pout, I said, “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?” Scott chuckled.
“Just… like that.” I poked his cheek for emphasis.
He backed away slightly, and although he was still chuckling, there was a definite threat in his voice when he said, “Watch where you’re poking, sweetheart.”
I adopted my best innocent look. “Or what?”
“I just might poke back,” he replied, the words coming out in a bit of a growl.
Before I could think better of it, I giggled. “Oh really?”
Scott growled louder, one hand suddenly appearing on my thigh, its grip firmer than I expected. I gave a very undignified, un-manly squeak then. My whole body was already trembling, but I hoped it was subtle enough for Scott not to notice.
No such luck, if his smirk was anything to judge by. Tightening his grip on my thigh, he asked, “What’s the matter, sweetheart? Thought you wanted to play.”
“Didn’t say that,” I replied, shrugging in a manner I hoped was more casual than how I really felt. “Didn’t say I didn’t, either…”
Scott chuckled and shook his head. Trailing his hand up my ribs slowly, like he was counting each one, he said, “Better make up your mind. I’m not a patient guy.”
“I haven’t left yet, have I?” I asked, eying his hand carefully.
Rather than reply with words, Scott snatched my wrist quickly and rolled me into my back. As he did so, he pinned the other wrist. He was small enough to make our positions comical, really, but I could feel his strength and sheer dominance, and it made me tremble harder. He stared down at my shaking form and asked, “Question is, how far are you in the mood to go? If I let you go, you gonna move?”
“N-no,” I answered honestly, if shakily.
He gave my wrists a squeeze, as if in warning, then let go. Sitting up and watching me carefully, he asked, “How long since you subbed?”
I could have continued to play innocent and dumb with him, but I knew there was no point. It would only delay the inevitable, and probably annoy him enough to earn me even more punishment than I thought I wanted. Not meeting his eyes, I admitted, “Umm… I, I mean I haven’t really like… I’ve just played around.”
“So I’ll go easy on ya.” With a smirk, Scott leaned back and put his hands behind his head. “I’ve done most of the work so far. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
I stared at him and stammered out a few not-quite-words. Without being as blunt and crude as I’d become accustomed to, he had finally made me blatantly obvious that this wasn’t just a friendly encounter. Somehow, that surprised me; there was still a part of me that felt he was toying with me, and not in the fun, BDSM way that he kept referencing.
Scott raised an eyebrow. “You’re not gonna disappoint me, ya know. Just do whatever you’re cool with.”
I stared at him blankly. Did I want him? Yes. I couldn’t deny that, at least not to myself. Admitting that to the guy for whom my entire existence still seemed to be somewhat of a joke wasn’t something I was ready to do, though. As I hesitated, Scott sighed and slumped in clear disappointment.
“I’m sorry,” I sighed out. “I just… I don’t know, I’m just thinking too much.”
Scott eyed me again for a moment, then sat up fully. “I can take you back if you want. I just thought we could have some fun, but if you’re not into it, whatever.”
Once again, he had called my bluff, and as much as I wanted to hate him for it, I knew my best course of action was to capitulate–and quickly. He was right; he wasn’t a patient guy. I couldn’t toy with him and lead him on until I was sure we were both ready for everything he was implying. If I wanted him, I wasn’t going to have very many more chances to have him.
“I’m not not into it, I just…” I sighed heavily again, still unsure exactly how to ease Scott’s mind while maintaining some of my dignity.
He cocked his head to the side as he looked over me, obviously lost in thought. I wasn’t sure what to make of that at all. Finally, he leaned in close and smirked. His voice low, he remarked, “Man, you really are a sub, aren’t you?”
I raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
He wasn’t wrong, really. The fact that I was so willing to do whatever necessary to keep myself in his good graces, when he’d done little to get in mine, really said it all. And it was the fact that he could see through me so clearly and understand those hidden parts of me that made me willing to give into his whims.
Rather than answering my question, because we both knew an answer wasn’t necessary, he simply gave me a serious, not-to-be-questioned look and said, “Get over here and kiss me.”
I blinked up at him for a moment, because I still couldn’t resist the urge to be a bit of a tease; it had always seemed to serve me well in the past. I crawled across the large bed until I reached Scott and placed a gentle kiss on his lips.
With a growl, he pulled back. “That the best you can do?”
Wasn’t I supposed to be the sub? But maybe that wasn’t what he meant when he said sub. That was fine. I could take orders, too. I leaned in and kissed him harder, hard enough that I would worry about bruising him if I hadn’t already learned that he was much, much stronger than his size implied. As if to further prove that fact, Scott growled against my mouth and tangled a hand roughly in my hair. In spite of myself, because I didn’t want to seem that weak, I whimpered at the feeling.
Scott’s response to that was to grab my wrist and guide my hand, more than a little harshly, to his thigh. I pulled back and stared down at my hand, lying just south of the very obvious bulge in Scott’s jeans, then stared up at Scott.
He snarled and squeezed that wrist that he still gripped. “Don’t play blondie with me. You know what I want.”
“I’m not… playing…” I said, the words little more than a pathetic whimper. And I wasn’t; my hesitation hadn’t been because I didn’t understand what he was asking for. It was because a part of me still didn’t fully believe that Scott could want someone like me, and seeing the obvious, throbbing proof that he did was a shock to my system.
“Don’t leave me hanging here, sweetheart,” he said, leaning in close enough that our lips brushed as he spoke. He punctuated the sentence with a quick nip at my bottom lip.
I moaned at that, and decided it was time to stop fighting the desire that was becoming increasingly obvious–on both of our parts. I inched my hand closer to that bulge, giving it a gentle, but firm squeeze. Scott moaned against my mouth and nibbled more on my lip, and that only urged me on. I gripped him tighter, his jeans too snug to give me room to do much more.
My reward for that was Scott bucking up against my hand. His own hand, which had moved from my wrist to my hip, now slid across my lap until it found the bulge in my jeans. As soon as it made contact, I groaned and gave a pathetic shiver. In spite of Scott’s teasing and insinuations, I did my best to be a faithful husband. I hadn’t had anyone’s hand–but my own–on my body since leaving for the tour a month prior. Even before that, things had been scarce; I had been busy jetting from place to place promoting the album and Natalie had still been self-conscious about her post-fifth-baby body. The end result of all of that was that just one simple touch from Scott had me teetering on the edge of an embarrassingly premature orgasm that I didn’t think I would ever live down.
Not seeming to notice or care how worked up he had me already, Scott kissed down my neck, one hand still firmly planted in my hair to keep my head turned just the way he wanted it. I let out a small whimper, doing my best to stroke him through his jeans. His teeth grazed my neck, and I took that as a sign that I was doing something right.
“Scott..” I gasped out.
“You want it?” He asked, the words such a low whisper that I was barely even sure I had heard him correctly.
I nodded as resolutely as I could, considering how hard I was trembling.
“Say it,” Scott said firmly.
My voice was weak as I replied, “I… I want it, Scott. Please…”
“Good boy,” he said, and I swore I could feel him smirking against my neck. Biting down hard on my neck, he tightened his grip on my cock. Even though there was still a layer of denim between us, I moaned loudly as a massive wave of pleasure rolled through my body.
He shoved me back until my body was pressed against the mattress. Leaning over me, he nibbled at my neck again, slowly stroking my erection. He was just teasing me now, and we both knew it. I wanted to beg for more, but I could do little more than moan as my body went entirely limp below him. My silent pleas were reward, though. Scott popped the button on my jeans and slowly lowered the zipper. I hadn’t bothered to wear underwear that day, so bare flesh was revealed to him, and Scott lowered his head to nip at it.
“Scott…” I gasped out, wanting to beg for more, but still betrayed by my body.
“Hmm?” He asked, pulling back to look up at me.
I shook my head, deciding not to reveal just how needy I was. “N-nothing.”
In response to that, Scott sat back and peeled off his t-shirt. He was thin, but there were muscles lurking under his clothes that I hadn’t fully expected, even as many times as he had shown his strength to me. I bit down on my own lip as I watched Scott toss the shirt aside.
He glanced back at me and smirked. “See something you like?”
“Maybe…” I admitted, attempting to sound coy.
Just as Scott opened his mouth, no doubt to make some smartass comment, my phone began to ring. It was almost comical, Scott’s mouth open to speak as Tom Petty sang about Mary Jane. I knew who that ringtone belonged to, though, and that made the scene far less humorous.
“Shit, Scott… I… I gotta get that.”
He blinked at me. “You’re shitting me, right?”
“No?” I pouted a little, hoping to look cute enough to negate the massive cockblock that was my younger brother.
It barely seemed to work, but in spite of his snarl, Scott did sit back on his heels and give a little wave of permission. With a heavy sigh, I fished the still ringing phone from my pocket.
“Hello?”
“Where the hell are you?” Zac asked, not even bothering with formalities before jumping into accusations.
“I’m… I’m at a party,” I said. A little angrily, since he had interrupted things, I asked, “Why?”
“Did you forget that soundcheck is at nine in the morning?”
I groaned. “Maybe.”
“And it’s three thirty now, so that gives you all of five and a half hours, including getting back from wherever the hell you are. Jesus, Tay.”
“Are you my fucking babysitter now?” I growled, choosing to ignore the mixture of concern and amusement on Scott’s face. The amusement seemed to be winning, anyway.
“No, I’m not your fucking babysitter!” Zac shouted, forcing me to hold the phone away from my ear a bit as he continued. “I’m your fucking brother, and I don’t know where the fuck you are, or when the fuck you’re coming back. Just get your ass to the show; ‘til then, do whatever the fuck you want.”
A dull beep let me know that Zac didn’t feel the need for a reply to that tirade. I ignored Scott’s chuckles as I stared at my phone and the ended call fading off the screen.
“Umm, I…” I stuttered out, my eyes flickering to Scott. I didn’t have any good explanation for the argument I was sure he had overhead. I didn’t even fully understand it myself.
“Yeah, yeah…” Scott said, his laughter fading just a little as he reached for his shirt and yanked it back over his head.
I kept my eyes down as I pulled my pants back into place, buttoned and zipped them. Softly, I said, “I’m sorry.”
“It happens.” He shrugged. “But hey, early show tomorrow, right?”
I nodded. “Y-yeah… and we don’t leave until pretty late the next day…”
“So, what do you say to dinner?” Scott asked plainly.
I glanced up quickly, surprised he had actually taken the bait. Another tawdry encounter in a hotel hallway or someone else’s bedroom was all I had really hoped for, but this… this might be an actual date. Finally, I calmed myself enough to casually reply, “Sure.”
He grinned widely, offering a hand to help me off the bed. “And then… see what happens?”
“Y-yeah… okay,” I replied, perfectly understanding the grin he’d given me.
I accepted his hand, anyway. What was the point in denying that we were both in it for sex? If there was more to it than that… well, I would worry about that if and when it turned out to be the case.