Perfection Will Not Come

Taylor

“Zac… wait. You’re not… this is gonna hurt…”

I’m scrambling for any shred of hope I have left. I know I’m not walking out of here unscathed or with my dignity, but there has to be some way… But no. The look in Zac’s eyes tells me this is how it’s going to be. I’m going to pay and it’s going to hurt. I’m scared of the pain, but I know I’ve done more than enough to deserve it. It’s that knowledge, combined with this new feeling of submission, that has me trembling with anticipation.

His hand flies toward my face before I have time to react or even realize what’s coming. His palm connects with my skin with an awful sound, another smack to make both of my cheeks match. I shudder to think what I’ll look like tomorrow, with the tracks of Zac’s rage covering my body. Although I hate to admit it, I don’t mind bearing his marks.

“I didn’t ask for your opinion,” he says, shoving my face down onto the mattress to truly shut me up. “Don’t talk to me about pain. Don’t you fucking dare.”

With one hand firmly on my back, practically daring me to move or resist whatever is coming next, he drags his other hand across my ass. He finds his destination soon, pressing a finger into me without warning or preparation. I hiss and my back arches of its own accord; the movement is met with a firm shove from Zac. My fingernails claw at the sheets, trying to find a little purchase to brace myself. He continues to thrust his finger in and out of me, hardly giving me time to breathe before each thrust back in.

“You have no clue, Taylor. All these years… teasing me, making me think you knew. And it was just a game to you?” His voice is a low rumble, and he punctuates his statements with harder thrusts, drawing his finger out only to elicit a gasp from me when he forces it back in. There’s no point replying to him. I can’t dispute what he’s saying; it’s all true. It was a game to me, and I don’t think I knew the rules at all. I didn’t think, couldn’t envision how my actions might actually have this sort of impact. I wanted to push Zac to the edge; I didn’t realize what that would do to me.

Zac pulls back for a second and the sudden emptiness feels so wrong, but he soon remedies that, adding a second finger and resuming the same pace. A long moan, almost closer to a whine, comes out of my mouth of its own will. I hardly even recognize the sound as my own voice. He twists his fingers harshly, forcing another low moan from me.

“Think about that, Taylor. Years of torture, never knowing what you were trying to do to me… never knowing what any of it meant to you. But that’s over now. Now we both know the truth, don’t we?”

He’s throwing my own words back at me, making it absolutely clear that the tables have turned. I don’t reply. I can’t reply. I’m really seeing the full picture now, and there’s nothing I can do, nothing I want to do to stop this. This is my punishment, and I’ve got to take each lash, knowing that I’ve earned them. Suddenly, he pulls back, withdrawing his fingers completely. I hold my breath and wait for him to begin again, but he doesn’t.

“Do you get it now, Taylor?” He asks, running his hands along my ass, fingernails grazing my flesh. “Do you understand that you have to pay?”

I nod, not trusting myself to even speak one syllable.

He leans over me and whispers in my ear. “Good. Because you’re not done yet.”

I’m past the point of even denying how much I want this, how much I need him to see this all the way through. Even if he wants to make me pay, whatever that means, I’m willing to do it if it gets me closer to him. My hips thrust back toward him until I can feel his cock against my ass. So close, but it’s not enough. “Please, Zac…”

“Please?” He takes his dick in his hand and slides it between my cheeks. “God, you think you can just say please and get whatever you want. The whole world just lives to give Taylor Hanson what he desires. Well, not this time. This is on my terms, do you get that? This is not about what you want.”

Oh, god. He’s so close, touching me but not penetrating at all, just teasing me. I gulp, and press my lips together tightly, willing myself not to speak again. I have no other words now but pleas, no other thoughts but how much I need this.

He grasps my hips firmly, and I know what he’s bracing for. He presses his dick against my entrance, still tight despite his attempt at preparing me. “This is about what I want.”

On the last word, he thrust into me, filling me completely in one rough stroke. It knocks the breath out of me. My knuckles grip the sheets so hard that they’re aching and turning white. He pauses after the first thrust, his grip on my hips only growing tighter.

“Fuck…” he gasps out, barely above a whisper.

It’s his first time, I realize, and for all the experience I have, it might as well be mine, too. Sure, I’ve been in this position before, but not like this, not with someone who terrified me as much as he turned me on. I couldn’t have anticipated the way it would feel to have Zac inside of me, to know it was my brother making me feel like no one else ever had. Sex was never emotional for me; at least, I had never concerned myself with the other person’s emotions. Now I don’t have a choice, and I feel all of his emotions descending on me at once, and my own bubbling up from some place deep within as well.

Soon enough he gains his bearings and begins to thrust. He wastes no time building up his tempo. Each thrust is as hard as the last, his pace steady even though I can hear his breathing growing more and more erratic. I don’t fight the urge to moan, and for once, every little sound from my mouth is real, not a show put on for my own amusement. Zac doesn’t remain quiet for long, either. He’s tapped into something in himself, some inner confidence that lets his words flow more freely than ever before.

“I always thought I didn’t deserve this. That somehow, I wasn’t worthy of your attention. You made me feel like that. But I thought you at least cared, as a brother. Your own fucking brother. I was fifteen, Taylor. Fifteen. Did you think, for one second, about what that would do to me? Of course you didn’t. All you cared about, was getting your fucking kicks, and making sure you were in the spotlight. Taylor fucking Hanson, teenage fucking dream.”

His words are cutting me to the core, but somehow that doesn’t lessen how fucking amazing it all feels. In a sick way, I think it even turns me on more to hear all the awful things he has to say about me. I’ve been rock hard all night, and my cock is currently shoved into the mattress rather painfully, so I loosen one hand from the sheets and reach down to relieve my own tension a little. I only manage to wrap my hand around my dick before Zac’s hand is there, digging into my wrist and yanking my hand away.

“Didn’t you hear me say this wasn’t about you?” He shouts, reaching for my other arm. He grasps them both tightly, twisting them behind my back and pulling me upright. I’m absolutely at his mercy; a long whine escapes my mouth and it sounds pitiful. This is too much. I can’t stop him, but the pain and the pleasure is all too much for my body and mind to handle. “Zac, please… fuck. Please just let me get off…”

****

Zac

“Shut. Up.” I pull him up against my chest, pinning his arms between our bodies; one arm wraps across his chest, the other hand on his throat, just enough to hint at my strength. He closes his eyes and whimpers, but says nothing. I continue to thrust roughly into him, whispering harsh words in his ear.

“That’s all you care about, isn’t it? That’s all you’ve ever cared about. If half the fans knew what a little slut you were, they’d never give you the time of day. Look at you, I’ve got you by the throat, I could…” I took a deep breath, stopping myself from finishing the thought.

“And you’re still only thinking of your next orgasm. In fact… You’re actually getting off on being treated like shit, aren’t you?” I give his neck a squeeze, watching carefully as his face contorts in… yes, pleasure. Without warning, I sink my teeth into his neck once more, no longer caring if I break his precious skin.

I shove him down, barely giving him time to breathe before dragging my nails down his back; he moans out loud in response, his voice almost breaking. He tries to push his hips back against mine, but my hand descends swiftly on his ass again, and he gives up trying to set the pace. I grab his hair again, yanking back roughly to punctuate my words.

“You really are a little whore. Is this what you want? You want to be abused? You want to be hurt?” A part of me realizes I’m still giving him what he wants, but it’s merely coincidental. This is about me, about my needs. It’s my turn, my time. I fall silent as I take out my frustrations on him, and to his credit, he does nothing but lays there and takes it.

All the years of pain, all the nights I laid awake aching, physically and emotionally, all led up to this one night, this one outburst; this one chance to finally be the strong one. Tay looks so frail beneath me, his moans only slightly muffled by the sheets. With every thrust, every brutal contact between my flesh and his, I feel a piece of my hurt burn away, but there’s so much. I don’t know if I could ever heal all the scars… but it’s a start. The great Taylor Hanson, reduced to a whining, submissive wreck, begging like the whore he is. But it’s not enough. It’s not enough for him to beg for more; I want him to beg for me. I want to be the only one who can satisfy him, the only one who can make him feel alive.

And then, I won’t.

I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up, though. The rage that fueled this storm is burning itself out, and my body is growing weak. I can feel my impending climax, but it’s not enough; he’s not through paying. I lash out, my nails carving once more into his back, angry red scores covering the surface.

“You made me think I was crazy. You made me think I was sick. You made me feel like a freak. You. Hurt. Me.”

****

Taylor

I want to ignore his awful, hate filled words and focus only on the intense pleasure coursing through my body, but it’s impossible. The words and the act are one and the same now, just as inseparable as the pain and pleasure he’s causing me with every thrust and every pointed comment.

He’s not wrong about any of it, and that’s the worst part of all.

All these things he’s saying… I don’t want to think about any of it. I’ve never had to answer for my actions before, especially not like this. I made excuses for why I found so much sick pleasure in teasing Zac. I told myself it was meaningless – just a phase he would grow out of. Somehow I imagined we would look back on it all and laugh about my harmless games; I never realized how twisted and tangled his emotions were. But my own feelings, if I ever had any, have been buried so deep even I didn’t think about them. With every thrust and every new burst of pain, Zac is dredging up emotions I’ve never let myself actually feel. I should have protected him, should have convinced him how wrong it was to want me, but I didn’t. I pushed him deeper in.

Why? I only have one answer for that. Because I wanted him to want me. It was just my sick vanity at first, the incredible ego boost of realizing that I, Taylor Hanson, was irresistible to everyone, even my own little brother. He was the one person I couldn’t get to, the one person all my charms couldn’t break, and it turned me on. The one person who could get under my skin and make me see my sins was my little brother. God… I’m even more twisted than he is.

I can feel his thrusts becoming erratic and his pace increasing. He’s getting close, and I’m still dangling at the edge of the cliff, not allowed to follow him over it. My body is crying out for any kind of release, though I know Zac won’t listen to any plea. Even my moans, which have long since turned to whimpers and cries, have no effect on him.

His hands come to rest on my hips, pulling my body back against him as much as he is thrusting into me. Each breath comes out as a gasp and I barely have the energy to form any words at all. Almost all conscious thought has left me, so I whisper the only words I can call to mind. “Zac… I’m sorry…”

I take myself by surprise with those words. I’m not accustomed to apologizing for things; I never stop to let myself feel sorry for anything, but the gravity of everything I’ve done to him has hit me. I brace myself for Zac’s inevitable reaction, and I can only hope it isn’t more harsh words. Instead, he grunts and pulls my body closer again. I can feel him shaking, almost losing his grip on me, as he gives a few last, long thrusts. He lingers on the last thrust, his fingernails digging into my thigh as he fills me.

All too soon, he pulls out and pushes me away. I collapse onto the bed, my body aching for release while my mind is still reeling. Zac collapses beside me, his body covered in a thick sweat and his chest heaving. His head is turned away from me, so I have no clue what he’s thinking and feeling, and I’m suddenly overcome with the urge to find out. I’ve never been so curious to see inside someone’s mind and heart that I almost don’t know where to begin. I reach out tentatively and place a shaking hand on his back. He lashes out with all his strength and shoves me away. I grasp at the sheets once again, this time to keep from toppling into the floor.

“Don’t fucking touch me.”

I can only stare at him, wide eyed and slack jawed. He’s shaky at first, but his strength is visibly returning. He climbs off the bed hurriedly and begins to search the floor for his discarded clothes. Still I can only stare, in fear and a little bit of awe as I watch him slowly pulling himself back together.

“You know, I always thought you were the strong one,” he says with a wry laugh. I can see him gaining momentum with each word. “I looked up to you. You were everything I wasn’t… everything I wished I was. But now…”

For a moment, I wait, unsure whether or not he’s finished. He pauses, his pants still unbuttoned, to look for his shirt, and I seize the opportunity. I can feel the words bubbling up inside of me, thoughts and emotions I hadn’t even realized I had ready to come tumbling out. “I never tried to be a role model, okay? You knew what I was, and you wanted me anyway. Maybe I made it worse, but it was only because I… I just…”

He crosses to the bed with long, quick strides and grasps my face in his hand, forcing me to look him in the eyes. He pulls me close and hisses, “Because what? Tell me, Taylor. Tell me why you did it. Tell me, or so help me, I will walk out that door, and you will never see my face again.”

The look in his eyes tells it isn’t an empty threat, and I know exactly what he wants from me. The force of it hits me like he’s slapped me again, and my mouth forms the words before I can truly process what I’m saying, even though I know it’s true. “Because… I wanted you. Because I love you.”

Zac holds me still and stares at me, his eyes flashing through emotions so quickly I barely catch them all – anger, sadness, even a tiny glimmer of happiness. He moves in closer, just barely, and my lips part in anticipation. But he stops, pulling back completely and and letting me fall back to the bed. He grabs his coat and rushes toward the door.

I don’t understand. I said it. I gave him what he wanted, didn’t I? “Zac… I said I love you. And I meant it, I swear…”

“Not my problem,” he says, not even turning his head to look back at me. “I may love you. I may want you.”

He opens the door, but pauses with his hand on the doorknob, as though he’s stuck in thought. I hold my breath, waiting for his next words, waiting for him to realize the mistake he’s about to make. Finally, he takes a deep breath, gathering up the last of his strength.

“But I don’t need you.”

He turns back ever so slightly, only the side of his face visible to me before he slams the door behind him. But it’s still enough for me to see a tear threatening to run down his cheek. After all of that… one tear.

I hear myself let out a sob and I almost don’t recognize the sound. It’s soon followed by my own tears, falling in a steady stream. My vision grows blurry as my eyes fill with tears that I don’t bother to wipe away, and I can do nothing but stare at the door. My erection still demands attention, but it makes me sick to even think about getting myself off when the one person I’ve maybe ever loved just walked out.

Love… it’s a word I’m not sure was even in my vocabulary until tonight. I wanted things and I took them, then discarded them when something else caught my eye. It brought me happiness, if only temporarily, and I never had to worry about needing something for longer than it took to get it. Love didn’t need to be part of that, wasn’t an emotion I ever felt any need to explore outside of the lyrics of a song.

I wanted to toy with Zac, not to fall in love with him. The one person I should never have wanted, for so many reasons, was the only one to ever get through to me. But I guess it was too late. All of his pain and suffering at my hands, suffering I was blissfully unaware of, has been purged from him, leaving only me behind. He’s thrown my own ignorance of everything, even my own actions and emotions, in my face and left me alone with my misery. I wanted to play, and this is my prize.

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