Page 37 of Survivor
Neither of them spoke at first, too occupied trying to calm the twin racing hearts and remembering how to breathe. “Can I ask you something Frank?” Taylor rolled onto his side, draping an arm over Frank’s stomach.
Frank looked over at him, leaning toward Taylor. “Yeah, anything.”
“Back at the station, you said ‘me fucking you,’ to Rory. You…never bottomed with him?” Frank studied Taylor’s face for a moment, watching his eyes and the set of his jaw for any tension or brooding. He was calm, as was the tone of his voice.
Laughing softly, Frank ran his fingers up the arm resting on his stomach. “No, babe, I always did the driving when Rory and I were together; he’s somewhat of a bossy bottom.”
Taylor’s smile was radiant, his grip on Frank’s hip tightening. “Good.” He slanted his mouth over Frank’s, kissing him softly. Frank could stay right where they were for days and be perfectly content, in the arms of the man he loved. The kiss was sensual, almost subdued, while Taylor’s hold on him was unyielding. When Taylor leaned back, he groaned, receiving a confident chuckle in response. “Are you good with me always being the one behind the wheel, Frankie? ’Cause I don’t know that I’ll ever want to bottom.”
“I’ll take whatever you want to give me, Taylor; I love having you inside me.” Frank quickly agreed. “And while I hope one day you’ll let me have you, it’s not a deal breaker, Tay. What we have now is more than enough for me.” He kissed Taylor’s neck, loving the soft purr of approval.
“So, tell me, love, if we are never getting in that bed again, where are we sleeping?” Frank teased.
Taylor growled and smacked him on the ass, hard. Frank hollered, rolling over onto his knees to stand, glaring down at his man who was grinning up at him. “We can sleep wherever you like Frankie, as long as it’s not inthatbed.”
Frank found it amusing that the bed Taylor referred to as“our bed”not ten minutes ago, was now“that bed.”
“I’m going to get cleaned up, again, while you gather blankets and pillows for the couch. I guess that’s where we’re sleeping tonight.” Frank walked back into the bathroom, using the still-damp towel to wipe the come off his stomach. There was an angry welt on his shoulder that stung and his back carried what looked like lines of scratches from his lover screwing him into the wall. “We’re not werewolves, Taylor, you don’t have to mark me so that everyone else in the pack will know I’m yours.”
A pillow flew into the bathroom and Frank caught it, turning to glare at his boyfriend. “I beg to differ.” Taylor winked, turning to leave the room, arms full of pillows and the comforter from the bed. Rolling his eyes, Frank opened the medicine cabinet and retrieved his toothbrush and toothpaste. He actually quite liked the fact that Taylor couldn’t keep his hands off him. He’d be carrying the marks from their lovemaking for days, and that was both welcome and exhilarating.
