Page 10 of Survivor
Chapter Six
Taylor
Summer 2012
“Oh…God, fuck yeah…right there, baby!” The blond twink Taylor met on Grindr writhed underneath him. He’d been quiet and shyly flirtatious over dinner and drinks at Sao Paulo’s. He and Shane, no wait, Scott? Or was it Steve? Whatever his name was, they’d been messaging each other back and forth throughout the week, and Taylor was more than excited when Blondie asked if he would like to meet for dinner. Mexican food and margaritas provided just enough lubrication to loosen them both up and the next thing Taylor knew, they were falling into the hotel room he’d secured for the night.
Literally, the second the keycard slid into the lock and the door was pushed open, Blondie turned into some kind of sex demon, ravishing Taylor’s mouth with scorching hot kisses that threatened to liquefy his brain, among other things. He didn’t think he’d ever seen another person get undressed so fast, and in quick succession, he too was naked and on his back on the bed with Blondie’s lips moving from his mouth to his dick. It’d been hard to pull Blondie’s mouth off his rock-hard cock—the guy had better suction than a hoover—but Taylor prevailed, rolling their bodies so that he was on top.
Leaning over the bed, Taylor found his jeans in the pile of clothes on the floor, jerking his wallet out of the back pocket so he could get to the items he so badly needed right then. Condoms and lube in hand, he sat up on his knees and watched Blondie stroking himself assuredly, tweaking a nipple between two fingers. Gloved and lubed up, he grabbed the much smaller man by the hips and flipped him onto his stomach, jerking his body up to where he was on his hands and knees. Licking a path up the guy’s taint, circling his puckering hole then slowly trailing his tongue up Blondie’s spine, Taylor reveled in the fantastic little moans and whimpers that fell from Blondie’s lips. Not to mention the way his lithe little body shook with need.
“This is gonna be fast and hard,” Taylor whispered into his ear before biting down on the lobe. And boy was it. Sex kitten, aka Blondie, was tight, wet, and welcoming. His slim hips undulating and milking Taylor’s cock for every last drop of his release when he came in a flurry of growls and curses. Falling onto his back beside Blondie, Taylor closed his eyes and attempted to catch his breath.
“Who’s Frank?” Sex Kitten asked.
Turning just his head, Taylor met Blondie’s still blissed-out dark brown eyes. “Huh?”
Sex Kitten laughed softly. “Who’s Frank? You shouted his name as you were coming and…is he your boyfriend, or an ex?” Blondie had morphed back into the shy, quiet guy Taylor had met earlier in the evening.
Fucking goddamn son of a bitch!Taylor turned away from Blondie’s gaze, staring up at the ceiling and trying to remember exactly what he’d said not five minutes before when he was pounding Blondie through the wall. Closing his eyes, the first image that sprang to mind was a vision of Frank’s heart-shaped face, three-day-old stubble, blazing blue eyes and that goddamn scar over his left eyebrow. “Sorry, I…” He what? How could he answer that question when even he didn’t know anymore?
Since his eighteenth birthday, he’d been trying to figure that out. Who was Frank? When Taylor was thirteen, Frank was his savior, a guardian angel of sorts. At fourteen, Frank was a confidant, a sounding board for Taylor’s feelings as he tried to figure out his sexuality knowing that Frank was gay. At sixteen, Frank’s appearance began to change. Well, Taylor started to see him differently, at least.
At seventeen, Taylor had gotten hard while playing flag football on the beach at Martha’s Vineyard when Frank tackled him. Feeling the man’s arms wrap around his waist and drag him down to the sand to wrestle the ball away from him had been an eye-opening experience. That night ended with Taylor jacking off in the shower to the memories of Frank wrapped around him like a goddamn glove. The man in the blue uniform with kind eyes and a soft smile that had coaxed Taylor from the crawl space in the attic had become so much more in his mind’s eye. As the years passed, Taylor found himself looking closer, admiration growing into something that felt a lot like love to him.
At eighteen, Taylor had rekindled his summer romance with Billy Scranton just to see if Frank would have a reaction to it. There were times Taylor felt certain he could feel Frank’s gaze boring into him, eyes lingering far too long before Frank would quickly look away so as not to get caught staring. That summer ended with fireworks in the sky, Taylor screwing Billy up against the wall in the boathouse, and his suspicion that Frank might be looking at him differently affirmed.
“You okay?” Blondie leaned on his elbow, reaching for Taylor’s hand and twining their fingers together. “It’s okay, you know, if you want to talk about it.”
Taylor harrumphed. “Or not,” Blondie responded with a chuckle. They fell into an uncomfortable silence for several minutes, Taylor about ready to get dressed and call it a night, when Sex Kitten made a triumphant return. Blondie sat up and straddled him, a condom in one hand, a packet of lube in the other. Either the supplies fell out of Taylor’s jeans earlier in his rush to dig through the pockets, or the little minx had rifled through the pants. Taylor wasn’t sure if he should be irritated or impressed. The latter won out, of course. He gave Taylor a look that was positively filthy before reaching between them and taking Taylor’s cock in his hand.
“In fact, we don’t have to talk at all, pretty boy.” Blondie teased, Taylor’s dick hardening once again. Oh yes, he could definitely get on board with this. Orinboard, as it were.
Reaching for him, Taylor grabbed Blondie by the hips and held him in place while he thrust up into the tight fist wrapped around his dick. “What was your nameagain?”
Blondie tossed his head back and laughed and Taylor had to admit, the man was pretty fucking sexy. When Blondie looked down at him, one corner of his mouth lifted and there was a playful gleam in his eyes. “Shannon.”
“Yes!” Taylor snapped his fingers. “I knew it started with an S.” They both laughed.
Round two was slower, less frenzied than their first time, but no less satisfying. Too exhausted to move, Taylor tied the spent condom in a knot and dropped it on the floor. He’d flush it later. The next time Taylor opened his eyes, he was alone in the bed. Rolling onto his back, he listened to see if Shannon was in the bathroom, but the hotel room was quiet. “Damn, you could have at least woke me to say good-bye.” He grumbled, climbing out of bed and going to shower. Ten minutes later, he was dressed and walking out the door when, for whatever reason, he remembered the used condom he’d tossed to the floor the night before. Walking around to the far side of the bed, he lifted the comforter and tossed it up onto the bed, bending to pick up the spent condom. There on the floor, under the corner of the bed, he saw a piece of paper and smiled. It was a note from Shannon.
Pretty boy,
Sorry to bolt without at least saying good-bye, but you looked so peaceful, I couldn’t bring myself to wake you and I have an early class. Last night was wonderful Taylor and I hope we can work something out and see each other again. If you want to hang out, talk or just fuck me into the mattress, call me.
Shannon
“Oh, my God.” Taylor laughed, picking the latex up off the floor between two fingers and walking it into the bathroom to flush. Walking back out into the room, he noted that the bed was in shambles, sheets and blankets tangled and hanging off the side. There were several empty foil wrappers and lube packets glaring at him from the bedside table and the floor. “Oh well, that’s what maid service is for.”
