Pain and Pleasure
It was only a short walk back to the convention center, but even that was enough for Zac to realize just how intoxicated he was—both due to all the alcohol and due to his brother, practically skipping down the sidewalk despite his stiletto heels.
The whole scenario was absolutely absurd, but Zac had come to accept the absurd over the last few weeks. Had it only been weeks? It seemed like a lifetime, in the best possible way, since Taylor had shimmied his way back into Zac’s life.
The hotel was still buzzing with activity when they made their way through the large lobby and into the glass elevator up to their room, but Zac hardly noticed it. In any case, the two of them didn’t stand out amongst the crowd of flamboyantly dressed and made-up men and women. They might have, though, if Zac had given in to his desire to press Taylor against the elevator’s glass and slide his hand up his faux leather skirt right then and there.
As it was, he just barely managed to contain himself until they made it to their room. It took Taylor only two tries with the key card to open the door, and once he had, Zac scurried into the room and threw himself across the nearest bed, not even bothering to attempt to remove his own high heeled shoes first. He struggled to kick them off as he propped himself up on his elbows and watched Taylor sashay into the room.
“Just stay there,” Taylor said, leaning over to help Zac remove the left shoe and in the process giving him a clear view straight down the v-neck of his shirt.
Once Zac’s shoes were safely removed, one of Taylor’s appeared on the bed, the pointy heel of it digging into the blanket. Zac’s eyes trailed up the leg attached to it, widening as he realized what he revealing view he had. From that position, he could nearly see all the way up to the fancy clips holding Taylor’s hose into place. Taylor’s hands vanished for a moment, and he bit his lip in what Zac assumed was concentration. Seconds later, his hands appeared again, easing the lace hose down his thigh. Once he reached his ankles, he removed both hose and shoe in one slick maneuver, then switched legs and repeated the entire process.
Not caring how shameless it made him look, Zac wiggled out of his own hose and panties with far less grace. He nudged the tight skirt of his dress upward until his dick sprang free and he could wrap his hand around it. He tugged ruthlessly, though he didn’t truly want to get himself off yet; he simply needed a little relief, relief that Taylor wasn’t yet offering him.
Instead, Taylor was taking his time peeling off his own shirt and running his hands up and down his chest. It was shaved clean, unlike Zac’s, and that combined with the bra he wore left Zac feeling more confused about his attraction to his brother than he ever had.
“Taylor, please,” Zac whined out, hoping for a distraction from such confusing thoughts. He could sort out his sexuality crisis in the morning over a hangover. Right then, the only thing that mattered was the erection he could see straining against Taylor’s skirt.
As if he had read his brother’s mind, Taylor reached for the zipper on the side of his skirt and let it fall to the floor. He stepped out of it and crawled onto the bed, coming to kneel over Zac and giving his own dick a squeeze through his baby blue satin panties.
“Are you sure you want this?” Taylor asked, and there was no question that this referred to the throbbing erection he held in his hands.
Zac could do little more than nod and lick his lips, which made Taylor laugh softly.
Rather than say anything further, Taylor lowered himself onto Zac and nudged his dress up further until Zac took the hint and pulled it over his own head. That left him in nothing but the bra, but somehow, he didn’t feel as exposed as he expected to. The way Taylor eyed him as he lowered his mouth onto his dick eased any worries he might have had, and when Taylor pulled back to suck on his own finger, Zac forgot the very definition of the word worry.
Zac sucked in a deep breath and spread his legs, watching intently as Taylor eased his finger into him again. It slipped in with a little more ease this time, although he suspected that Taylor’s lips on the base of his dick helped to soften the blow, as it were.
“Tell me,” Taylor breathed out as he pressed a second finger against him, not quite slipping inside, just teasing, “tell me when you’re ready.”
“How—how will I know?” Zac asked, the words coming out with a nervous giggle.
Taylor smiled up at him, not at all mockingly, and for that Zac was very grateful. “When you can’t think about anything else. When it’s all you want. When you can practically already feel me inside of you.”
“I—I can’t—” Zac began, the words dying in a tiny whimper when Taylor’s second finger slipped inside.
Taylor flicked his wrist and Zac saw stars. He tried to keep his eyes open, to see what Taylor looked like between his legs, but it was already too much to handle. His brother’s tongue was lapping at his balls, inching lower and lower, and Zac was certain he would die of pleasure before he ever knew what it felt like to have Taylor inside of him.
Taylor inside of him–the thought alone was enough to make Zac’s dick jump of its own accord, a familiar ache building low in his stomach.
“Tay,” he said, reaching out to grasp desperately at Taylor’s hair. “Please, I—now. I need you now, to—to fuck me.”
Taylor pulled back and knelt between Zac’s legs, nudging his panties down just enough to let his dick spring free. He gave it a few lazy tugs, the tip already slick with pre-come that he spread up his length with his motions. He lowered himself onto Zac, guiding his dick into the place his hand had occupied only moments ago, and Zac gasped at the feel of it, briefly wondering if he had gotten in over his head. Taylor’s dick was easily as large as his own, and Zac had had no practice at this—surely it would hurt, if it were even anatomically possible.
“I love you,” Taylor said softly, applying the tiniest bit of pressure against Zac’s entrance.
“I love you, too,” Zac replied automatically, his fears and worries once again eased.
It did, however, hurt, when Taylor rolled his hips and slid the first inch or so in. Zac wouldn’t dare admit it, though, and did his best to keep his face and breathing neutral as he adjusted to the feeling of Taylor’s cock inside of him.
That thought—that realization of what they were doing set fire to Zac’s body, from head to toe, and he let out a long sigh. All his muscles seemed to finally relax as he did so, and Taylor slid the rest of the way in with much more ease.
“God, you—” Taylor began, then shook his head. He reached down to run his hand across Zac’s cheek. “You look so good. You feel so good.”
Zac felt his face heating up. “I don’t know about the—the one, but if I look good, it’s because… of you.”
“No, no… you’re beautiful no matter what.” Taylor shook his head, then reached down to fondle the bra that contained more padding than actual breast. “Although, I do like this look on you. Mostly… mostly the way you look under me.”
“Tay,” Zac breathed out, certain he was blushing from head to toe.
“Yeah?”
“Just… just shut up and fuck me. Please.”
“I am never going to get tired of hearing you say that,” Taylor replied, chuckling softly, but obliging him with a harsh roll of his hips that made Zac squeak in both pleasure and pain.
Zac’s vision grew blurry again, and although he wanted to watch the way Taylor’s bottom lip quivered as he thrust in and out, he found it increasingly difficult to focus. He wanted to wrap a hand around his own dick, too, but found that difficult as well. His eyes fell shut and he seemed to lose all control over his body, all his motor functions focused on one spot and one sensation.
After what felt like ages, Taylor’s hand grasped Zac’s dick and began to stroke him in a rhythm that closely mirrored the one his hips were setting. Zac felt his legs creep up and wrap around Taylor’s calves of their own accord, and belatedly realized that his arms were wrapped around Taylor’s body as well, his fingernails digging in so deep that he was sure they would leave marks on his brother’s back.
Taylor didn’t seem to care or even notice. His eyes were trained on Zac as his hips and hand worked in tandem to bring both of them closer and closer to the edge. Zac let one hand creep up to the back of Taylor’s neck and pulled him down for a sloppy kiss, hoping Taylor didn’t mind that he was too far gone to be all that good.
Judging by the way Taylor moaned against his mouth, he didn’t mind at all. His hand fell away from Zac’s dick as he collapsed on top of him, but Zac didn’t mind at all. He was already there, a heavy wave of pleasure overtaking him as his orgasm worked its way through his body, leaving stream after stream of sticky come plastering both of their stomachs.
Taylor followed seconds later, the warmth of it inside of him taking Zac by surprise and the tremor that wracked Taylor’s body the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
Zac wanted to lay in Taylor’s arms forever, but he could feel stickiness coating in him places he hardly even wanted to think about. When Taylor finally fell away from him, panting, Zac excused himself to the bathroom, where he murmured an apology to housekeeping before grabbing a towel and attempting to clean himself up.
He couldn’t help but look at himself in the mirror, and was a bit startled to remember that he was still wearing Taylor’s bra, although one strap hung limply on his bicep. It took a little maneuvering to remove it, and he placed it carefully on the counter before leaning in to scrutinize his face. His makeup was similarly worse for the wear, copper and brick red smeared all around his lips with just a hint of the bright coral Taylor had worn mixed in. He grabbed a discarded washcloth and did his best to clean off what remained, although dark streaks stayed under his eyes no matter how hard he tried.
It would have to do, Zac decided, grabbing another towel as almost an afterthought before he left the room. He walked out and, with a sheepish expression, tossed the towel onto Taylor’s stomach.
Taylor accepted it with a smile and a slight blush on his cheeks, which still bore some makeup as well. After toweling his stomach off, he stood and rubbed one eye. Zac lowered himself onto the bed carefully, watching his brother curiously as he dug through his suitcase, his ass perfectly on display as he bent over it.
A moment later, he emerged with a small package of wet wipes, with which he easily removed all traces of the night from his face. He approached the bed with a fresh one in his hand, brushing Zac’s hair back gently.
“Do you mind?” Taylor said, and Zac shook his head. “It’s just, I’d say we’ve made enough of a mess in here. Let’s not leave makeup all over the pillowcases, too.”
“I would say that’s the least of our concerns,” Zac mumbled, but nevertheless closed his eyes and allowed Taylor to gently wipe off the makeup he had so expertly applied just hours before.
There was something about the tender way Taylor treated him, his attentiveness and care in all things, that made a strange pain settle in Zac’s chest. It wasn’t a bad pain, exactly—similar, somehow to the pain he had felt when Taylor slipped inside of him, he realized. One that seemed to burn something else away and leave room for only pleasure afterward.
He wanted to express this to Taylor somehow, but didn’t know how to begin or if it would even make sense. Perhaps he was still drunk, Zac thought. Maybe he would try to explain it in the morning. Rather than speak, he simply held out his arms and smiled contentedly as Taylor climbed into them. He pressed a kiss to Taylor’s forehead, letting his lips linger for a moment, and hoping that kiss said all that he didn’t know how to say in words.