Favors
Over the next few days, Zac tried not to think too hard about his gallery opening. He knew he needed to find something to wear to it, as Taylor and Melissa both kept pointing out. He was pretty sure he had some old suit Carly had forced him to buy that he could probably wear without thinking of her. That would have to be good enough, he decided, even if his brother and new best friend didn’t agree.
With that successfully pushed out of his mind, he was able to go to class and do a reasonable job of focusing. At least, he was no more distracted than he had been before Taylor’s reappearance in his life, and Zac considered that a win. Maybe things weren’t so bad after all. Maybe he was, somehow, on the right track.
He was halfway through his second class of the day when he heard his phone buzzing from deep within the messenger bag he had tossed on the desk in front of him. No one ever called him, and that alone was reason enough for Zac’s curiosity to overcome Dr. Sisson’s ban on cell phones in class.
Carefully, he slid his hand into the bag and pulled the phone toward him just enough to see the screen. Rather than a missed call, the screen was lit up by a series of text messages.
Can u possibly get out of class this afternoon???
1 of the models didn’t show and we’re freaking out here
I mean 1 of the male models!
Zac couldn’t make heads or tails of what Taylor was trying to tell him or ask him. He stared up at the whiteboard, hoping to look invested in whatever the professor was talking about, as he inched his phone across the desk and into his lap. Slowly, trying not to fully divert his eyes from the front of the classroom, he typed:
What r u talking abt????
Zac coughed in a pathetic attempt to cover the sound of his phone buzzing when Taylor’s reply came in.
This fashion show is going 2 b a disaster if we don’t find a fill in and ur the right size. Please Zac I need this to work out for me
Ur asking me to be a model? Are you insane? Have you looked at me??
Only a matter of seconds after the text was sent, Zac’s phone began to ring. He shoved it back into his bag, along with his notebook—in which he hadn’t taken a single note—and hurried out of the room. He realized he would probably have to answer questions later about the supposed emergency that took him out of class, but he didn’t really care. He hadn’t heard a single word of the lecture anyway; he would have taken any excuse to leave.
By the time he made it into the hallway, the classroom door shutting with a soft woosh behind him, his phone had started ringing again. Or maybe it hadn’t stopped in the first place. Zac slid it open and pressed it to his ear.
“Are you seriously telling me you want me to come be a model?” Zac asked, hating the way his voice went up an octave as he spoke.
“Zac,” Taylor practically whined out. “You know I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. The whole show is a mess now, and it would look really good for me if I could fix it. It doesn’t pay much, but everyone gets to take home one outfit from the show, and I’ve seen a few things that would look really good for your gallery thing…”
“But you’re talking about me,” Zac said. “Me. As a model. Am I the only one who hears how ridiculous that sounds?”
“You are. Zac, you’re… I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. No, I don’t think it’s ridiculous. You can do this. You’ll be great. And I will owe you something really, really big.”
Zac sighed. He knew Taylor was being more than a little manipulative, but it didn’t matter. He was weak; it only took a little flattery to win him over. He shifted his phone from one ear to the other, trying to think of any way to protest further, but finally said softly, “Okay. I’ll be there as soon as possible.”
“Thank you so much,” Taylor replied. “There’s a makeshift dressing room curtained off by my Sephora; I’ll let them know to let you come right on back so we can get started on your makeup and fit you for the clothes.”
The line went dead before Zac could fully process or even begin to protest what Taylor had said. A part of him hoped he had heard wrong, but he knew it was too late to back out now. With another heavy sigh, he closed his phone and tossed it into his bag.
He was sure he would regret getting himself into this, but at least it got him out of class, Zac thought to himself as he walked out of the building toward the parking lot where he’d left his car that morning.
Zac drove to the mall in a daze, all the while wondering what he had gotten himself into. He didn’t even realize that he knew where the Sephora was at all, yet his feet carried him there of their own accord. A voice in the back of his mind idly wondered how many times he might have walked by there and not realized his own brother was inside. Then again, Zac wasn’t much of a mall person, which made it all the more ridiculous that he was now going to be parading down the catwalk in a mall fashion show.
Someone outside the curtained off area took his name and escorted him through a veritable maze of curtains, tables and racks of clothing. Finally, he found himself standing in a bathroom that had been re-purposed for the day, with a table covered in makeup along one wall. And there he was—Taylor, looking perfectly in his element, leaning down to run a fluffy brush across some girl’s cheek.
He glanced up and gave Zac a huge smile, and Zac knew he had done the right thing by coming, even though it might still turn out to be a disaster.
“Okay,” Taylor said, glancing back down at the girl and giving her a smile. “I think we’re done, Jules. I’ve got to get our last minute fill in here prettied up now.”
Zac waited until the girl had walked out of the room, giving him a skeptical smile as she went, before raising an eyebrow and asking, “Prettied up?”
“It won’t take long,” Taylor shot back, then patted the back of what appeared to be a re-purposed desk chair. “Have a seat. I promise it won’t hurt, Zac.”
Although he was still skeptical, Zac carefully lowered himself into the chair and braced himself as Taylor put a cape over his shoulders and secured it in place. It was snug around his neck and he wanted to tug at it, but he knew that wasn’t a good idea.
“You just need a little bit to combat all the lights on the runway, that’s all,” Taylor murmured in a soothing tone, picking up a few containers of something in various flesh tones and holding them up to Zac’s face. “Just to keep the shine down, cover any little blemishes, that kind of thing. Not the sort of makeup you’ve seen me wear, I promise.”
“That’s reassuring,” Zac replied, cracking just a hint of a smile as he pictured himself in purple glitter. It wasn’t a pretty picture.
“You can close your eyes if it helps,” Taylor said softly. “I’ll let you know when I need you to open them, tilt your head, whatever. But the main thing is to just relax.”
Zac gave a small nod, almost afraid to move any more than that. He closed his eyes, deciding this would definitely be easier if he couldn’t see what Taylor was doing to him.
“Okay, don’t squeeze them shut. I can’t put makeup on if your face looks like a prune.”
With another exhale, Zac tried his best to relax. He only jumped a little as Taylor put a hand on his chin and tilted it up slightly.
“Okay,” Taylor said, as if in warning.
Sure enough, seconds later Zac felt something wet and cold touch his face. He was glad Taylor had told him to close his eyes; he didn’t want to see anything that felt that gross. Taylor’s touch was feather light, though, and that was reassuring. It made Zac feel warm all over, and after only a few minutes, all the tension and apprehension had drained out of his body.
There was something strangely relaxing about it all, even when Taylor insisted upon applying mascara, which made Zac feel like his eyelids were too heavy to hold open. Being so close to Taylor, getting that sort of gentle, personal attention from him… it was just nice. Zac knew that word fell far short of describing the feeling, but he was too warm and tingly to think of anything more apt.
“There,” Taylor said, giving Zac a soft pat on the head that probably would have made Zac feel childish under any other circumstances.
“Thank you,” Zac said softly, blinking up at him.
Taylor chuckled. “Thanks for making you prettier than you already were?”
“No,” Zac replied. “Well, yeah, I mean that too. But thank you for everything. Whatever brought us back together… I’m just so grateful for it. And I’m so glad that you don’t hate me.”
“I never could,” Taylor said, his voice barely above a whisper. “No matter what, even when I thought—I thought maybe you were on their side, I didn’t hate you. I hoped you would come to think for yourself and not be brainwashed into being so… so full of hate. But even if you hadn’t, even if we’d never found each other again and I’d never known… I never had any hate for you. None at all.”
“Can I take this off?” Zac asked, tugging at his cape.
Taylor nodded.
Zac reached behind his head to unsnap the cape and pulled it to the side, letting it fall to the floor. He glanced up at Taylor, who seemed confused. There was a chance Taylor would tell him to stop, he knew. But it was worth the risk. He needed to let Taylor know how he felt, how grateful he was for his brother’s generosity.
“Does that door lock?” Zac asked.
Taylor nodded slowly, his eyes widening as he seemed to realize what Zac had in mind. With a few long strides, Taylor reached the door and flipped the lock. It made a dull thud that seemed to reverberate through the room. He stepped back in front of Zac, and Zac was pleased to see that Taylor seemed to understand now. As gracefully as he could manage, which he would admit wasn’t very, Zac slid from the chair to the floor, his knees stinging as they connected with the tile.
“Zac… you can’t…” Taylor said weakly, his words fading out as Zac reached out to lower the zipper on his impossibly tight jeans.
Before Taylor could protest again, Zac’s hand was in his boxer briefs, tugging on his already half-hard length. In only a matter of strokes, he was rock hard and pulsing in Zac’s hand. Zac shoved Taylor’s pants and underwear down with both hands, leaning in to wrap his lips around his brother’s cock as quickly as he could.
Though he hadn’t had any more practice, Zac felt more at ease this time. He found a rhythm in no time, his fingernails digging into Taylor’s ass cheeks as he bobbed his head shamelessly. He didn’t think he would ever get enough of the way Taylor tasted or the soft moans and whimpers that fell from his lips in time with Zac’s movements.
Taylor shuffled them backward to the sink, planting his hands on the edge of the counter to steady himself. Through it all, Zac did not stop sucking. He wasn’t sure if he had anything left to prove, but he wasn’t taking any chances.
All too soon, Taylor was practically writhing against the sink, pinned as he was between Zac and it. “Zac, I’m… oh, god…”
Zac might have still been an amateur, but he knew what that meant, and this time he was ready. He braced himself, hands firmly planted on Taylor’s thighs and jaw as relaxed as he could manage. Taylor let out another moan, this one just a bit louder than before, and seconds later the taste his Zac’s tongue. This time, he reveled in it, almost in awe of his ability to make Taylor feel so good. It wasn’t just beginner’s luck, if he could do it twice, Zac reasoned.
It took three big gulps before he was sure Taylor was done, though he was still shaking and panting as Zac pulled away to stare up at him.
“I’m going to have to touch up your makeup now,” Taylor said, his tone just this side of scolding.
“Sorry,” Zac replied, though he couldn’t keep himself from grinning.
“No you’re not.” Taylor returned his grin, offering a shaky hand to help him stand. “And I suppose technically this means I owe you two favors now.”
Zac giggled. “Who’s keeping count?”