Over
Although things don’t go back to normal, because there’s no way that they can and there’s really no normal for us anymore, things do seem to calm down a bit as we prepare for the Australian tour. Isaac is all business now, ignoring everything else about me other than what I contribute to the band. I’m strangely okay with that, because it’s better than facing his judgment all the time. What I’m not okay with is the fact that on our very first night in Australia, I’m assigned to share a hotel room with Taylor. I can’t object without explaining why I have no desire to be near him, and so I’m just stuck.
I stupidly didn’t remember to bring the adapter for my xBox, so I can’t even throw myself into a video game to distract myself from everything else. Since my body clock is all fucked up, I just throw myself into the bed as soon as we get to the room. Taylor heads for the shower to wash off the, as he puts it, traveling funk. I really don’t care. I don’t have anyone to impress until our first television appearance tomorrow morning. I certainly don’t need to impress Taylor.
Taylor…
I’m not sure when his shower ended, because I guess I’ve been lost in my own thoughts, but it must have just been moments ago, because he has suddenly appeared in front of me, absolutely naked. Oh sure, there’s a hotel towel around his waist, but it’s so small and thin that it might as well not be there at all, and seconds later, it isn’t. Taylor drops it to the floor and takes his sweet time digging through his suitcase for a pair of boxer briefs, his ass bared to me while he searches.
He’s torturing me, and I’m really not sure if he knows he’s doing it. He probably does.
“What is your deal?” I don’t even realize I’m saying the words out loud until Taylor spins around and gives me a quizzical look.
“What do you mean?” He asks, still completely naked. The boxers in his hand do nothing to distract me from the fact that his dick is just there, taunting me.
I shook my head. “Nevermind. I was just thinking out loud.”
“Is this about the California thing?” He asks. My eyes are focused on the ceiling, but I still know that Taylor is walking toward me, and sure enough, he’s crawling onto my bed seconds later. “Because I outed you or whatever? I didn’t realize it was a secret, if you were willing to move out there to be with him.”
“Even if it wasn’t a secret, it wasn’t your non-secret to tell,” I reply, squeezing my eyes shut. “And that’s not what I’m talking about.”
“Then what are you talking about?” He asks, his voice strangely low and seductive and not at all appropriate for this conversation.
With a groan, I force myself to look at Taylor, and immediately wish I hadn’t. As decisively as I can manage, I say, “Don’t do this, Taylor.”
“Do what?” He asks, practically batting his eyelashes at me.
“Act like you want me,” I say. “Like there’s something really happening here, when we both know you’re going to run from it, because you always do.”
“What should I do, then? Embrace it?” He asks, scooting closer to me even though his words are getting defensive. “You think we can just, what, be together? Even if Nat wasn’t… being Nat… this can’t work.”
“Maybe it can’t. But you’re the one who wouldn’t let it. The one who wouldn’t try.”
“One of us has to do the right thing,” he replies.
I grab his arm, both to hold him at a distance and to stop myself from hitting him. “Don’t talk to me about doing the right thing when you’re the one who keeps dragging me down. Neither of us has the moral high ground here.”
“All I’m hearing is what not to do,” Taylor says, scowling. “What do you want from me?”
My fingernails dig into his arm, and a part of me remembers the way that Taylor described what he did to Natalie. I’m not like that. I don’t want to hurt him. Except… I do. I guess I was more right than I knew; no one has the moral high ground here. I suck in a sharp breath and say, “I want you to think about someone other than yourself for once. Stop trying to save your own ass and think about what you’re doing to everyone else… to me.”
He gives me a blank look that implies that he truly has no clue. I can’t even begin to explain to him all the ways he has hurt me. Not with words. And not with my fists, either. I’m afraid there’s only one way to explain anything to Taylor, only one language that he speaks fluently. My nails still digging into his arms, I drag him closer to me and crush his lips against mine. It’s not a sweet, loving kiss. I want it to hurt. I want it to linger and remind him that when we’re together, it feels amazing, and he’s giving that up. He’s choosing to let it slip through his fingers because he’s too weak.
Taylor is a little reluctant to kiss me back, I can tell, and I don’t blame him. The fact that this is happening after we’ve argued is strange, but to me, it makes sense. I need to do this. I need him to feel what I’ve felt for so long.
Finally, he relaxes a little and even tries to take the lead, but I don’t let him. I push him back against the bed and climb on top of him, wedging one of my legs between his and rubbing myself against him. I’m still wearing my jeans and he’s naked, so I imagine it feels different, and maybe not even all that pleasant, for him. He moans, though, and that’s good enough for me.
I inch my way down his body, leaving a trail of hot kisses until I reach my destination… the erection that I’ve caused. I waste no time taking him into my mouth, easily fitting every inch of him in. I’ve had a lot of practice since the night of his vow renewal, and I’m not drunk this time. Now, I know exactly what to do to make him moan and writhe beneath me, and sure enough, in seconds he’s doing both.
“Zac…” he whines, his legs twitching in a way that tells me he’s dying to be in control of the situation. The hand he tangles in my hair, forcing me to speed up my pace, tells me the same thing, but I’m not giving in.
He wants this, and he’s going to get it, but it will be at my pace. For once, I will be in control of Taylor, not the other way around.
While Taylor is still writhing, I pull back a little and suck on my index finger. I know I’m taking a risk here, because this is something I haven’t done with Taylor, but I don’t care. Taylor doesn’t seem to either, by the way he’s staring at me, his mouth practically watering. He continues staring, not even blinking, as I slide my finger into him. I know I ought to feel guilty for taking control like this, and not even asking Taylor if he wants this, but… I don’t.
“Shit, Zac,” he moans, and that’s all the encouragement I need to know I’m not doing anything wrong here.
I add a second finger, working Taylor somewhat roughly and quickly. It’s not that I want to get this over quickly, or even hurt him that badly, but I can’t seem to hold myself back. It’s a strange thrill to be on this side, in this role. I like it more than I thought I would. Maybe all I’ve needed these last few months was some control, however minor and fleeting.
Pulling my fingers out of him, I say, “Roll over.”
He blinks, but then does as I say. A part of me wants him to stay on his back so I can see his face, but I can’t risk this getting romantic, at least for one of us. I realize now that it never will be for Taylor. He has decided it can only ever just be sex, as though that’s somehow better and less wrong than love, and to him, that’s all it is. Fine. Right now, that’s all it will be to me, too.
I don’t waste any time enjoying the way Taylor looks bent over like that for me. Instead, I just rush to tear off my clothes. Maybe I should be more sentimental, because I don’t think I’ll ever be with him like this again, but I just can’t. I can’t. I just grit my teeth, grip his hips firmly and thrust into him. All at once and not gently, just like he did with me. A growl tears loose from my mouth at the feeling of Taylor, so hot and tight around me, and I hate that I’m letting him know he’s getting to me. If he can even hear me over the sound of his own moans.
We don’t communicate in anything other than grunts and moans as I build up my rhythm, rolling my hips so hard against Taylor that I wonder if I’ll leave bruises. I decide that I don’t really care if I do; it isn’t like we need to worry about keeping this a secret from anyone who might see Taylor’s bruises. We’re in a deadlock with Natalie now, for all that it seems to matter to Taylor, so I really don’t care if she knows that her husband has been in my bed again. A part of me wants her to know.
I must be really twisted, because that thought turns me on even more. This isn’t going to last much longer, and because I’m not cruel, I reach my hand around to grasp Taylor’s dick. He’s rock hard and it pulses in my hand as soon as I grasp it. It only takes me a moment to match my strokes to my thrusts, and we’re once again moaning in sync. There’s no point pretending that this doesn’t feel good, after all.
“I’m going to come,” I mumble, not even sure why I feel the need to warn him. I’m not going to stop. He’s going to feel it.
Taylor whimpers. “Me too.”
“Good,” I reply, stroking him faster to get him there as quickly as I can.
Seconds later, I feel Taylor shuddering, and he lets out a beautiful, low moan. He comes all over my hand, and without thinking about it, I shove my hand into his face. I push my fingers into his mouth, and he gets the hint. My eyes roll back in my head as I feel Taylor licking his own come off my hand. He laps it up like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted, and it’s just the push I needed to come. Stars explode behind my eyes as I struggle to stay upright and thrust into Taylor as I ride out my orgasm.
Finally, I come down from that high. My hand has fallen from Taylor’s lips, all signs of his orgasm erased. I pull out of him and collapse onto the bed. Taylor collapses next to me, but my head is turned. I can still feel his weight on the bed and the heat of his body near me, though.
“Sleep in your own bed, please,” I say.
With little more than a pathetic whine, Taylor crawls out of the bed. From the corner of my eye, I see him walk into the bathroom. Once he’s gone, I roll over onto my back and stare up at the ceiling. I don’t know if I made Taylor feel the things I wanted him to feel, but I do know this is the last time. I can’t keep giving in to him and to my feelings for him. I’m done.
A few minutes later, Taylor walks back into the room and finally puts on the pair of boxers he discarded in the floor next to my bed. As he climbs into his bed, he says, “You know this doesn’t change anything, right?”
“No,” I say. “It doesn’t.”
But it does. It’s not the change I wanted, even just a few days ago, but I think it’s the change I need. It’s the understanding that this was never going to be more than a dirty little secret. I don’t like knowing that, but I’m glad that I finally do, even if it does leave me feeling strangely hollow. At least I can find some peace in knowing that it’s over.