35A/N: Okay, so this took so long because I figured it would make more sense if the chapters were longer and one day in the story didn't span through five bloody chapters. And sorry about that, btw. Though this chapter doesn't really start a new day, but that's because I wanted it to show just how confused and messed up Taylor really is and didn't want to slice it up in two chapters. Oh and did I mention that I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing with this one? XD I'm a one-shot type of person, so this…is making my head spin ::headdesk::
Some of you asked some questions that I kept forgetting to answer…well, they finally got answered. The answers you can find at the end of the chapter, cause I didn't want to clutter the beginning with too much ranting…This A/N is big as it is…
Oh, AND! A WARNING! This is the first chapter that deserves the 'M' rating, so beware! Nothing too explicit, but still…
NOT BETA-ED. As usual.
~XoXoXoXoX~
Oh sweet lord in heaven…
. . . Was the only sentence continuously repeating itself inside Taylor's mind. He was still standing right there, unmoving, in front of the shower; his right hand still tightly clutching the almost completely open sliding door of the shower cubicle, the hot steam warming up his barely clad body.
He felt as if the air was suddenly kicked out of his lungs as he stared in a mix of shock and disbelief at the unexpected sight in front of him. For some reason, his mind shut down completely. And as if that wasn't scary enough, after the initial shut down, Taylor's mind went into an overdrive, the red 'danger' lights blaring in his head, as he was trying to realize just what was going on. His thoughts were a mess, some shouting at him to 'Dear God, get away from here!' while others told him to not move a muscle and just 'Enjoy the beautiful sight in front of you'.
The next few seconds seemed to drag on forever while his mind was warring with itself. The only thing that was becoming more and more obvious as time moved on was that the later voices won as Taylor didn't try to get away. Those were the voices Taylor firmly believed didn't exist in his mind before the infamous switch had taken place. Or at least that's what he liked to believe.
He let his mind wander while he just stood there, completely still. He didn't dare move, he didn't dare breathe-or at least, not too loudly; he didn't dare close his eyes or even blink as they devoured the sight of the boy that stood under the water spray.
Taylor stared as if bewitched, as if his mind couldn't quite understand what it was his eyes were seeing. Taking a shaky, shallow breath, he panicked when that action resulted in a chest ache. An ache that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere and that was slowly becoming more prominent, making his breaths shallow and short.
He didn't understand why he suddenly experienced such shortness of breath, when he didn't do anything exerting prior? His chest still hurt just like it hurt after running those god-damned fifteen laps around the dojo he used to train at.
He tried to calm himself down, but no matter what he did, the ache was still there and even growing in intensity. That ache, he suddenly noticed, felt strangely familiar. When he finally calmed down, he realized how it actually felt as if his heart was pounding relentlessly in a mad, violent rhythm against his rib cage; as if wanting to break free from his chest.
Another thing he was becoming quickly aware of was that for some reason that shortness of breath he experienced before was still there. Not only that, but it was making breathing quite a tedious task. In fact, it made breathing harder with each passing second -or what he presumed was a second; it all felt like hours to him. In some part of his mind he wondered if the flow of time had stopped or at least slowed down to the point where it seemed as if everything around him stood still.
Not really understanding what it was he was experiencing or what it was he was doing, he decided that the best thing he could do was to just let his instincts guide him. Even though he was pretty much certain those instincts were something fairly new to him. He was just so confused with everything that was happening to him and so he decided to do the only thing that felt even remotely logical. And the only logical thing to do, at that point in time, was to listen to the whispers of his mind.
Unfortunately for Taylor, those whispers came from the deepest recesses of his mind that were ignored all this time and now that they were finally out; they were very much willing to play. The concept of 'play' that that part of Taylor had in mind, however, was something very much different from anything Taylor had ever experienced or even thought about. Giving himself up to that still unknown part of him, Taylor could suddenly quite clearly feel the inexplicable excitement rush through him.
He licked his suddenly dry lips, took in a few quick breaths before he calmed enough to take in one deep breath and swallowed hard as he let his eyes roam the expanse of slick, wet skin, taking it all in. Focusing his eyes at that sight, Taylor felt his heart rate speed up even further, making that now distant part of his mind scream 'Oh God, am I getting a coronary?!' .
That part of him –the old him- was becoming increasingly confused and no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't understand for the life of him what was going on. What confused him even more was the way he was acting. In the back of his mind, in that small place called 'conscience' that was presently almost non-existent, he knew what he was doing was wrong.
Or at least, it was considered wrong. More precisely, it was considered a really, really rude and down right shameful behaviour. A thought flashed in his muddled mind, whispering to him that he was a pervert, a voyeur, peeping tom. He felt a short pang of embarrassment and guilt before he decided to ignore that small voice, to just tune it out and trust his newfound instincts.
Later he would have time to reflect on his actions. Later.
Right now, that part of his mind that was becoming louder and louder demanded that he take a closer look.
Just give in Taylor. You know you want to. It whispered seductively. If he didn't know better, Taylor could have sworn he heard it chuckle.
He gave in. He let himself go and he gave in to the seduction.
Slowly he let his gaze follow an imaginary trail, going from the boy's wet hair, its almost black strands matted to the nape of the boy's neck to his wide, strong shoulders and down the unusually soft looking back all the way to the small of his back. Further down Taylor's gaze went, stopping at those firm, perfect looking butt cheeks.
At this point, he didn't think; he only let himself feel. And what he could so clearly feel was the fact that his heart rose up to his throat, as he could feel the loud, ferocious thumping not only inside his throat but also in his ears, inside his head, his skull reverberating from the sound. He felt as if his heart had taken over his entire body, the sound of its beating loud and overbearing, making Taylor nervous.
A small, quick thought ran through his mind as he felt nervousness claw at him once more. What is happening to me? As if on cue, moments after that thought vanished, he could fell a huge lump in his throat making him more nervous than he ever remembered being and he swallowed hard, trying to make it go away. His heart still thumping wildly, he let his gaze go lower, trailing along the boy's long, firm legs.
Not even realizing it, a shudder racked through his body as he thought that this boy had what was probably the hottest body he'd ever seen. A faint presence in his mind supplied to him that he hadn't really seen all that many of male bodies in all of his teenage years.
At that comment, his consciousness broke through the daze he was in and a thought got born in his head. No matter how many bodies I might have seen, I think this guy is quite possibly the closest thing to perfection. He smiled to himself at that thought, giving a small, almost unnoticeable nod in agreement.
And then he realized what he was agreeing to, his eyes widening to an impossible size as he started fervently shaking his head, his face red with what he tried to tell himself was anger; anger at his own stupidity, at his unexplainable thoughts.
W-wait! No! I-I-I didn't mean it like that! No no no I did not just think that! I-I-I was just caught off guard, that's all! Yeah, that's what it was. I was just caught off guard seeing this bastard nake-Oh. OH…
As if waking up from a hazy dream, with a now completely clear mind Taylor finally realized what was happening. His mind stumbled over numerous fervent thoughts, not wanting to believe what was staring him right in his face; what should have been obvious right from the start. What was probably obvious to some part of his brain, but that part seemed to have quite enjoyed the given situation.
The boy was naked like the day he'd been born. Quite logical, if you think about it, seeing how he was under the onslaught of water in the shower.
That never occurred to Taylor.
What did come stumbling in his mind, however, was the realization that Taylor was staring at him for the past few minutes or so (was it really just minutes?). What made the situation even scarier is that he wasn't just staring, no. He was ogling him; checking him out. Oh God I was practically devouring him with my eyes! His mind screamed at him.
The realization made Taylor's face heat up in embarrassment as he fervently repeated to himself that he shouldn't look, that he didn't want to look, so he should just turn around and stop staring. He told himself to just avert his gaze away, to turn his head around, to do something, anything to take away the sight in front of him.
No matter how hard he tried or how many times he shouted in his mind, trying to make his body listen to him, his gaze never once faltered, taking in that all too sinuous body and committing it to memory.
While panic caught him in its vice-like grip, another thought resurfaced through the jumble of all those messed up thoughts and his internal monologue. Damn, his ass looks so tight…so hot!
Hearing that thought repeat a couple of times forced Taylor to actually listen to it, to pay it the attention it needed. Realizing the track his traitorous thoughts took made him growl low in his throat, which only made him wince as it sounded more like a whimper than anything else.
Dammit, did I seriously just think that?! Did I seriously just look at his…rear and called it ho—Oh God, it twitched! Taylor bit harshly at his lower lip, trying to prevent a moan from breaching through.
This wasn't right. This couldn't be right. He needed to get away. Now. He needed to just slowly and quietly push the door back in its original position and then turn around. Yeah, that's what he should do.
That was the plan. Unfortunately, Lady Luck wasn't on his side at the moment and the same exact moment he took that one single step back, his eyes connected with a pair of shocked dark eyes, looking at him as if they were seeing one of the Seven Wonders of the World. As they just silently looked into each other's eyes, Taylor's mind was overwhelmed as it repeated its mantra over and over again.
Oh Shit.
~XoXoX~
Seeing the boy's eyes widen, it connected with Taylor's brain that he was caught staring. Not knowing what else to do or how exactly to react to the situation he found himself in, Taylor lowered his head in a strange mix of shock and embarrassment, which was expected and irritation and anger that he had no idea where they came from. Or that's what he told himself.
The action, of course, proved to be less than a good idea, if what his eyes were now stuck dead on was anything to go by.
Taylor felt his face heat up in embarrassment but for some reason his eyes didn't move. Quite opposite, actually. His eyes were locked on the other boy's crotch area, staring at it with an obvious fascination.
"What the hell are you doing in here? And where are you loo-," the naked boy started. He stopped when he found the answer to his unfinished question as he followed Taylor's gaze. His face flushed, first from embarrassment at being caught naked and then his blush grew in intensity as rage at being peeped at by some newbie bastard set in.
Composing himself in a record time, he grabbed for the towel and hastily covered his front. Seeing how Taylor's brain didn't really register the boy speaking, this action startled him into raising his head up and once again meeting those dark eyes. This time, however, they were filled with anger instead of confusion.
The moment Taylor saw his neighbor's eyes narrow and his lips move in what he was sure was a quite elaborate curse, he sprang into action. He turned around and with the speed on which even the Speedy Gonzales would envy him he was through the door and inside of his room. Inside his beloved sanctuary once more.
Feeling all of his energy drain the moment he heard the door behind him click, he sagged against it, the initial contact of bare skin and cold, smooth surface uncomfortable. After a couple of seconds, the cold on his back was gone and tilting his head and pressing it against the hard wood he finally felt a lot calmer. He breathed a sigh of relief, thanking God and all of the saints for letting him get away with it –whatever that 'it' was- unharmed.
"What the hell, you creep!" He heard the voice on the other side of the door.
Okay, so maybe he didn't get out of it yet. And maybe he should change his religion seeing how this Big Man and these saints weren't really doing their job.
"Open the hell up you asshole!" Taylor's neighbor shouted.
In Taylor's humble opinion it sounded more like angry growling, but who was he to say anything? The fact still remains that hearing him so mad wasn't really making him want to open his door any more than he did before he heard his neighbor roar. Oh, and the fact that he started pounding on the door like hell has opened up just under his feet wasn't helping all that much either.
"I said open up or I'll break this goddamned door down, you disgusting little faggot!"
Yeah, hearing his neighbor screech like a banshee wasn't really- Wait. Hold on. Stop and rewind. What did he just say?! What did that insufferable prick, that bloody fucking jerk call me?! Oh, now that's just not how you talk to someone, mister. Taylor thought angrily.
Still leaning against the door, he fisted his hands in anger, trying to remain calm while thinking about his next course of action. It wasn't helping that all that he could think of was how he wanted to bash that pretty face of his jerk of a neighbor beyond recognition. If anything, he was most confident about his fighting skills. He always found it strange that his parents allowed him, a girl at the time, to learn something so…boyish such as martial arts. Of course, at the time, it could have never even occurred to him that he might actually need that knowledge in a situation other than scaring off potential perverts.
Now, he was very much grateful that he knew more than to just randomly swing his fists. Seeing how things were progressing, he will probably need all of his knowledge.
He was brought out of his thoughts as he felt the door behind him give way as it slightly bumped against the back of his head. He growled angrily. What the hell does that jerk think he's doing?! He's not seriously thinking of breaking this door down, is he? The only thing that came as a reply to his angry musings was the door opening just a bit more under the pressure from the other side.
And hitting him on the head. Hard.
In a bout of anger he pushed back against the door with all of his strength, hearing a startled hiss of pain on the other side right after it which made him smile. The damned prick deserved it. And oh so much more…Taylor thought, banging his fists against the door. It was therapeutic, really. Between bashing the bastards face into the next year and banging against the door with all of his pent up anger, he chose the solution that made him hurt and spared the other boy. Banging your fists against the door can never compare with punching something as soft as human skin. So yeah, he was in pain. It did diminish his anger, though, so he felt a little pain was fine.
It also seemed to make his angry neighbor stop slamming against the door, seeing how his head was feeling fine and bump-free. Maybe he gave u-Ouch!
Or maybe that little pause was actually the silence before the storm. The slamming of the door against the back of his cranium was so fierce that it actually made Taylor stumble forward, his knees buckling slightly under him, making him take a few more steps forward to regain his balance. When he finally stood straight up he noticed he was just a couple of feet away from his closet. Then he heard the door behind him open none too gently as at the same time a very, very loud voice followed through,
"There you are, fucking fairy."
At those words Taylor could almost feel his blood boil. He turned around to face the other boy, their gazes meeting in a vicious battle, willing the other to lover his gaze first. Taylor was both angered and intrigued by the sheer strength showing in the eyes of this boy. He was slowly, but surely becoming one of a very few people that could endure and even dare to challenge Taylor's fiery glare. Opening his mouth to retort to the insults the boy was throwing out so recklessly, Taylor was eager to show him, from a first hand experience, that he was by no means a helpless 'fairy', as the boy kindly offered.
Before he could even let out the smallest sound, their eyes broke the contact and the boy in front of him moved like a whirlwind and slammed him against the closet door and, consequently, against the mirror that was on the doors. The pain of the impact made Taylor's head swim and he closed his eyes, trying to make the bout of dizziness, that suddenly overcame him, disappear. His whole upper torso hurt, along with his aching head that was by now sporting a number of various-sized bumps. His eyes still closed and his head still spinning, he tried to move off his back of the door a bit, in a hope that the action will let him know whether the mirror broke or not.
He hoped it was sturdier than that or he'd have quite a bit of wounds and scrapes to show to the school nurse. He managed to put some space between his naked back and the cold surface of the mirror but when he tried to separate from it completely, he felt a forearm showed at his throat, pinning him heavily against the glass surface. He felt panic rise up in his chest as his attempt at taking in even a smallest of breaths turned out to be entirely futile, his eyes snapping open in shock at the current situation.
"Going somewhere, sick bastard?" he heard a voice hiss in his right ear. It was filled with so much anger, so much annoyance and even something Taylor couldn't understand why this boy would feel for him-absolute hate and disgust.
Taylor opened his mouth, his temper telling him to fight back, to retaliate, even if only with words, but nothing came passed his lips. Nothing but a strangled gasp. Hearing Taylor gasp for breath seemed to have snapped the other boy straight back to the present, to the reality of the situation. Panic flashed in his eyes for only a brief moment as he saw Taylor's eyes flutter closed, his face contorted in pain. He could hear as Taylor's breathing slowed down to almost non-existent; the realization making him jerk away from him, his arm falling away from Taylor's throat. The sudden release made Taylor double over, coughing and wheezing, trying to make his deprived lungs take in as much air as possible as he slid down the mirror and into an awkward sitting position on the floor.
His mind was blank-he couldn't think, he could only concentrate on the working of his lungs. Breathe in, breathe out…Breathe in… he repeated the mantra in his mind, feeling relief flood him together with much appreciated air as his lungs regained their perfect function. Finally feeling his breathing even out, he calmed down enough to notice that his assailant was still there, standing in front of him. Slowly he lifted his head and looked at the boys face, expecting to see anger and hate etched on it.
So seeing none of it shocked Taylor at first. Then it intrigued him and made him curious to find out why those emotions he felt so clearly in his neighbor's voice were missing from his face, from his eyes.
. . .And what was that strange glow in the other boy's eyes? Better yet, why was he looking so embarrassed, with his head lowered so their eyes met perfectly and his face so red it even spread down his neck? And was the boy fidgeting? None of it made sense to Taylor. Not until he saw the boy bite his lower lip as he averted his gaze, his blush spreading down his neck and over his still-naked torso, disappearing under the towel wrapped tightly around his narrow hips.
Oh God, did my towel fall off when I slid down the glass?! Taylor thought frantically, his eyes falling down into his lap, hoping that he was wrong.
He was wrong, he realized as a deep red blush bloomed over his face, making him suddenly feel hot all over. It turned out his towel was still in place. Though it appeared to be slightly tented in the area of his crotch…Please tell me it's not what I think it is! Taylor's mind wailed. Yeah, yeah...i- it might just be that the towel bunched up or something…If I just straighten it a bit, it'll all be good! Taylor's hand reached out, following his desperate plan; only to jerk back as it came in contact with the part of anatomy he tried so hard to ignore. He threw his head back, hitting it on the mirror and gasped as sudden jolts of pleasure sparked in him at such a miniscule touch to his sensitized area.
He swallowed hard, his newly frantic heartbeat calming down as he slowly lowered his head, his chin resting on his chest and he kept the slow, steady breathing. Suddenly, he heard a door slam.
Jerking his head up, he looked straight in front of him and then blinked a couple of times, trying to clear his vision that was slightly unfocused for some reason. His eyes finally working the way they were supposed to, he found that the other boy left his room, walking out the same way he got in, not even bothering to close the door behind him; though he did close his own door to the bathroom and lock it, as if he was afraid of further confrontation.
Taylor's face exploded in what should have been a non-existent shade of red as he realized that the boy not only saw his little…predicament, but he also saw him when he…well, reacted to said predicament. It didn't help his blush one bit, either, when he thought about how the guy probably figured out that he himself was the reason for Taylor's unexpected predicament. He moaned in exasperation. No matter what he did, it seemed like he was destined to get in quite a number of messed up situations with the guy that, for some reason, seemed to hate his guts. He banged his head against the mirror behind him, as if to punish himself.
God must seriously hate me…
~XoXoXoXoX~
Feeling his backside tingle from numbness and his body grow distinctly colder, Taylor finally decided it was time to get out from his shocked daze and get up. Hauling himself up, he went to brush of his non-existent pants, completely forgetting about his state of undress. He stopped short when his hand came a bit too close to his still present arousal, his head bowed down and his eyes looking disbelievingly at the awkward part of his anatomy under the towel still securely wrapped around his waist.
It finally hit him, the realization heavy like a ton of bricks falling down on his head, that that small bulge was actually his first hard-on. Or half hard-on. Whatever. He walked over to his bed, a sort of tired gait to his step and flopped down on it, putting his hands behind his head as he tried to reason with himself why having an erection to that guy was absolutely ludicrous and oh so very Bad, with a capital 'b'. It was working quite well, too, until his mind started supplying him of images he'd seen not more than fifteen minutes ago.
The first thing that flickered in front of his eyes was skin slick with water, which made those taut muscles that were filled with so much power, as if he were a panther ready to strike, even more pronounced. Then he remembered that extra inch of height that the boy has and that Taylor is missing and those few extra pounds on him that are not fat by any means, but pure, hard muscle. All of that shaping his body in a live version of those sculptures of Greek Gods.
A bit leaner version, admittedly, but still looking equally powerful and hypnotizing the onlooker with sheer strength that was radiating off of his body in waves. And those muscles…so defined, so pronounced yet not bulky but more so lean, making Taylor's own body seem under developed in comparison, as if his own muscles are non-existent. And my body is definitely not under-developed nor are my muscles non-existent, thank you very much. I've got the six-pack and some awesome bi and triceps to prove it, Taylor scoffed in his mind. His mind was preoccupied with drawing out the images it stored somewhere safe in the back of his mind, making Taylor unaware of the slightly faster beating of his heart and the shorter, faster gasps for air.
He closed his eyes as so many pictures came to him, assaulting him, appearing in his mind's eye as if to explain to him just why he reacted to his neighbor. Taylor was both amazed and slightly shocked how detailed those images were, showing him every curve and plane of the boy's body. He blushed and squirmed in his bed when he recalled just how intently he looked at the boy, feeling once more like a middle-aged pervert, especially after remembering a certain sizeable part of his anatomy that his eyes just couldn't stray away from.
Dispelling those images with sheer power of his will, Taylor now noticed the way his body was acting. It felt just as strange as it did when he was there, in the bathroom, staring at the naked boy. His heart was thumping in a wild beat that could rival any drum, no matter how skilled the drummer was. He opened his eyes, scrunching his eyebrows in confusion as his attempt at deep, slow breathing did nothing to calm his heart down. It was as if his heart became an entity completely separated from the rest of his body.
Closing his eyes again, hoping that that will help him concentrate harder on his breathing, he became aware of a sensation that wasn't there minutes ago. A sensation that was new and yet somehow felt like it was completely normal, even if its existence did creep the life out of Taylor. He concentrated all of his being on that single feeling, trying to discern just what it is.
It felt like there was a weight in his chest, not an uncomfortable one or the guilty one, just…a weight. It seemed to seep down, lower inside his body and into his stomach. It felt somewhat like the fluttering of butterflies, only not so soft. More like a sort of twisting, coiling emotion. It reminded him slightly of the time when he was still a she and had her periods regularly, but even this comparison didn't seem quite just right. After all, it didn't feel a slightest bit unpleasant as those menstrual cramps used to feel.
Gently he put his hand on his stomach, his palm flat against the hard abs that still felt somewhat foreign to him. The action made the feeling intensify, however, and made him certain that this had nothing to do with those cramps he used to experience every now and then. Whenever he had them, the simple action of pressing his warm palm against his aching belly would make the pain subside. And right now, it seemed like the fluttering in his stomach just became more intense, bringing with it a strange, yet comfortable warmth.
It felt so good, so comfortable, but it was slowly ebbing away, as if trying to escape from Taylor. Taylor moved his palm slowly, realizing that the sensation seemed to be lowering itself, finding its residence in the pit of his stomach. Instinctively, Taylor let his hand go lower still, slowly, tentatively, following the sensation, his breathing growing more raged by the moment and his heartbeat thrumming throughout his entire body. His hand sliding lower and lower, he couldn't do anything more than just concentrate on this heady feeling it created.
Then, something happened. His hand brushed against something, making him gasp as he arched his back off of the bed at the sensation of a lightning running down his spine. His eyes shot open as he heard a moan, as if expecting to find someone right there, next to him making such a sexy, lustful sound.
He was all alone. It was him. He blushed at the notion that his own voice could make such…needy, lusty sounds; sounds that seemed to fit more a porn actress than him. He lifted himself up on his elbows, determined to find out what it was that gave him such a feeling, what was it that his hand came in contact with. And then he blushed for the millionth time that day, seeing something he should probably have expected to see, given his reaction.
It stood proudly between his thighs, freed from the confines of the towel that could no more hide its existence. He gulped heavily as he looked at the hard, long thing that seemed to be quivering in anticipation of his next movement. He blushed when he realized just how intently he was staring at his own appendage, as if trying to just will it to go away, to disappear.
It didn't, of course. In fact, it seemed as if it became even stiffer, an angry red color dusting over it. Taylor let himself fall back down on the bed, his hands coming to rub at his face in a tired, resigned manner. God this is so embarrassing…Why is it so embarrassing?! And oh damn is it supposed to look like that?! And why do I feel like bursting? I don't really feel I need to take a leak, so why?! Taylor shouted in his mind, scared, nervous and strangely- excited- about this new development. What do I do? How do I make it go away? His mind scrambled for answers.
Opening his eyes and lifting his head just a bit, he looked at the proudly erect part of him, scowling at it. Suddenly, an idea manifested in his mind. He remembered all those times, when he was still a she, and would tease Brad to take a cold shower when he got all touchy-feely with Sheila. For a brief moment, Taylor felt a pang of regret in his chest at the thought of his best friend and the boy that has by now become an ex-love interest. Not wanting to delve any deeper into the pits of those emotions, Taylor shook his head and went to get up, determined to test the theory about cold showers.
What does he have to loose, anyway, except for his obvious problem? Getting into a sitting position turned out to be more troublesome than one would expect, though. It was probably to be expected when one had to deal with an overly happy part of their anatomy that made them hiss and moan and completely loose their consciousness at the slightest of touches and the accidental brushing against it. Still, even if it did last for roughly five minutes instead of five seconds, Taylor just wouldn't give up, knowing what the alternative for the cold shower would be. And no matter what he said or thought, he still didn't feel comfortable enough to actually willingly touch it. Bathroom activity not included, he always pretended he had a stick of some sort in his hand at those times, even though it sounded somewhat obscene and completely idiotic.
Walking slowly through the still open door and into the bathroom, Taylor rushed as best as he could under the shower, turning the cold tap on to the max, opening his mouth in a silent scream at the contact his already cold skin made with frigidly cold water. But still he did not care for a slightest bit that the water fell down on his skin like a rain of needles. He only concentrated on his breathing, trying to will away the cold even when his whole body screamed at the uncomfortable sensation assaulting it. That didn't help all that much, but it gave him something else to think about, putting the thoughts of his raging hard-on and the icily cold shower somewhere in the far reaches of his mind.
Those were the longest seven minutes of Taylor's life, he decided, as he walked out of the bathroom and tiredly flopped down onto his bed, his hair still somewhat wet and his body still shivering. He curled into a tight ball, crawling under the covers, wrapping the quilt tightly around him and falling in a deep slumber.
~XoXoX~
Arms. Big, strong arms wrapping around his waist from behind. Hot, humid breath coming out in pants dancing across the sensitive skin just behind his right ear. Soft, hot lips placing feather light kisses down the column of his neck, along his shoulder. Teeth, biting harsh, marking him; claiming him. He gasps at the strange mix of pain and pleasure as the skin of his shoulder is being violated, only to feel the man behind him lap gently at the wound he himself created. He can feel his smirk against the nape of his neck, just before those big hands, those insanely warm palms and those long, nimble fingers start trailing from his jaw to his chin, gently, seductively. Lower yet they go, over his Adam's apple and down his neck and he feels his breath hitch as they trail slowly, torturously slowly, along his chest, his fingers running over his dusty nipples every now and then, driving him insane. His hart is hammering in his chest, his breathing ragged and coming out as moans and grunts and pleads for more.
He feels slight shifting of the body behind him and then a head is lowered on his left shoulder. Feeling the man behind him settle in his new position, he sighs. That sigh is turned into a wanton moan when he feels that hot mouth sucking on his pulse point. He lifts his hands behind his head and places them on the back of the head and the neck of his lover, wanting to draw him closer, to meld with him. The action is greeted by a low chuckle against his skin and a nip to his jaw, as if in an agreement. Completely concentrating on that wicked mouth against his skin, he forgot about everything else. So when he felt his already hard nipples get twisted and pinched, he couldn't help but shudder at the sensation, his back arching in ecstasy.
And then he heard him hiss at the contact. Understanding finally dawning on him, he arched more, his ass coming in contact with his lover's arousal, making him emit a sound between a growl and a moan. He didn't know why, but the mere idea that he was the one who made him so aroused made him feel hot; hotter than he thought was humanly possible. So hot that he felt like his body was on fire. Wanting to make him loose control, he started gyrating his hips, his butt coming in contact with what was most likely by now a painful arousal, and then moving away. Teasing, torturing. Sweet, sweet torture. The man behind him growled in a mix of desire and warning. He still didn't stop that delicious, torturous dance.
Suddenly, the heat from his back was gone and he was whirled around in a matter of seconds and then slammed none too gently against the closest wall. His breathing hastened, his eyes were half-lidded, his lips parted.
Want. Lust. Desire.
All of it written on his face, on that heated skin. All of it obvious from that quite big bulge in his pants. He heard the man chuckle, that velvety, dark sound, before his mouth was caught captive under his. He gasped at the sudden contact of their lips, unwittingly allowing him access. Something that was used immediately as he felt his mouth being invaded by that forceful, yet gentle tongue. Touching, searching, and memorizing every crevice of his mouth. It drove him insane and all he could do was moan; moan into that ferocious mouth and whimper, begging for more.
His pleads were answered as he felt those strong arms wind around him once more, bringing the two of them so close that it felt as if they would merge together. Nothing happened, though, until those hands grabbed his buttocks, squeezing them hard and in turn making him squeak. That squeak suddenly changed into a gasp and a moan as their crotches came into contact. They broke their kiss, throwing their heads back in pure bliss, enjoying the sensation. They rolled their hips, moaning, kissing and nipping at each other's lips, enjoying the friction but wanting more. So much more.
In the heat of the moment, his lover suddenly moved away from him, putting some distance between them. He whimpered, in need, in agony. He was so close. Looking up, trying to find his lover's face he was met with a mischievous grin. Then that head went lower, those lips showering his skin with kisses-down his neck, on his collarbone, down his chest…His eyes widened as he felt the wet muscle circle wet trails around his completely stiff and utterly abused nipples. The feel of the hot, wet appendage on his even hotter skin made him arch his back, trying to better the contact with that talented mouth. He heard the low chuckle of his lover before he felt him start putting open mouth kisses all over the expanse of his naked chest.
That wicked tongue darted out every once in a while, taunting him, making him loose that little self-control he had left and moan, telling him just how much he liked it. He couldn't take it anymore; he was barely coherent, but a thought ran through his hazy mind, making him act. Suddenly, he grabbed handfuls of his lover's hair, trying to force him to go lower. Oh god, he needed him to go lower! The man chuckled again, that deep, warm sound making Taylor almost loose it completely. He felt his already leaking arousal twitch with the need; need which was sated faster than he expected as he felt himself being engulfed in that hot, wet cavern of his lover, but only for a moment until the heat drew back with an audible pop.
He felt himself stiffen even more as the tongue darted out to play with the slit, trailing slowly from the tip down the underside of his cock and to the base of it. The tongue trailed even lower, licking his sack, sucking on it slowly, making his head swim. He was close, and coming closer to loosing control with each passing second. He needed, no—wanted his release! As if reading his jumbled thoughts, the man wrapped his mouth around the dripping length and sucked on it mercilessly, as if trying to taste it completely.
He felt his balls tighten before his body became stiff; his eyes rolled back into his head and all he could see behind his closed eyelids was that never-ending white. Hot, exciting white that made him loose his breath as he felt his seed fill the man's mouth. Just the thought of his essence going down the man's throat as he felt him swallow made him come more violently than he ever thought he could. His body shivered for a while, trying to regain composure after such a mind-blowing experience.
Taylor's breath came in short, ragged breaths as he tried to calm himself down, his legs wobbly and weak. The man that was down on his knees, right in front of him, was suddenly back on his feet, looking deep into his eyes and holding him securely in his arms, keeping him up. Before he could focus his eyes on the man's face, he felt that soft, damn talented mouth connect with his once more. The moment he felt his lovers' tongue swipe over his, he realized he tasted something salty. Blushing madly, he realized he tasted himself on the man's tongue.
Just that notion made him moan wantonly and the man chuckle again in that too arousing way that made his cheeks redden involuntarily. Feeling the kiss break, Taylor started opening his eyes, focusing them on the face above his.
Before he could see his face, the man disappeared. One minute he was right there, in front of him and the next, he was…gone. Gone into the thin air.
. . .And that was when he sat up in his bed, cold sweat pouring over his heated body, his heart beating wildly inside his chest. He looked down into his lap feeling a strange sensation of cold stickiness against his inner thighs. Seeing what the reason for said stickiness was, he scowled darkly. He just had his first wet dream. Oh joy. He thought bitterly.
He was shocked and embarrassed at the same time not knowing how to feel, how to act. All he did know, however was that he needed to take a shower. Thankfully, this time it can certainly be a hot one, since the problem resolved itself. Looking at his lap once more, he decided to wash his briefs first and then proceed with the shower. Yeah, he'll take the shower after washing his briefs. And his sheets. Yeah, definitely after washing his sheets. He didn't want to even for the shortest time entertain the thought of sleeping again in what were probably stained sheets.
And it didn't matter at all that it was only—he glanced at his alarm clock that was on the desk at the foot of his bed—six-bloody-thirty in the morning, but he knew he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep. If he did, he knew that the images from the dream he just had would haunt him.
What a way to start the day…should I expect a meteor crash next?
A/N v.2: First off, to answer Lana-The thing with the bathrooms is not my original idea, to be honest. I saw it in this Spanish teen telenovela-"One step forward" ("Un paso adelante") and it was a culture shock for me. Why? Well, they not only have one bathroom between two rooms in the dorms of the Academy, but it's common thing that one room is all-girls and the other all-guys, meaning that it was completely normal for a girl to take a shower while a guy is taking a leak or something. I was in high-school at the time, though, and didn't really know about the nifty little thing called –'dorm life and having no privacy'. Now I know better xD
To other readers-well, those still sticking with this story- I know it's confusing, but a girl tuned guy isn't all peachy, y'know? I promise it'll get less confusing and more things will be explained as story progresses. Right now, Taylor is being a confused little schizophrenic-and even that has a reason :)
Okay, that's that. NOW, my dear readers, this is where you come in. The dilemma is as it follows—would you prefer the next chapter to be the same day Taylor wakes up after the dream, or should I make a teeny tiny time skip and place it two weeks after? The difference would be that in the time-skip chapter, his dealing with the situation would be more of a flash-back type of thing, more like him just remembering it from a sort of distant view. Tell me what you think is better, since I have no clue which you'd like to read better!
And if you have extra time on your hands, I'll be putting a poll up concerning a one-shot that is still due…Another dilemma that I would like to resolve-with your help, hopefully. Just a heads up-no matter what the choice turns out to be concerning the one-shot, SWITCH still remains as my top-project.
That all being said-Review?