Taylor
Still riding highfrom the day before, Taylor smiled as he tapped the steering wheel and watched Johnny trudge up the driveway to Wendy’s little house on the outskirts of town. He was wearing a white shirt that clung to every inch of his shoulders and waist, with navy chinos that made Taylor want to bite those meaty fucking thighs.
He looked like an accountant. A really,reallyhot accountant.
Taylor sighed, shifting uncomfortably in the driver’s seat as his cock started to fill against his thigh again. “Chill,” he mumbled, giving it a sympathetic squeeze over his black jeans.
The Love Dust had done a number on his libido, so much so that he’d chased the sexual health clinic three times in as many hours, only to be met by a cheerful lady on the other end of the phone telling him to “Be patient, sweetie.”
Well, being patient was easier said than done when he’d had Johnny’s cock pressed against his arse cheek every night, or when his thick arms pinned Taylor to the bed, or his hips nudged Taylor’s thighs apart when he felt like lying on top of him and fingering him until he saw stars. They’d been doingthata lot,and Taylor was still sore from having four fingers buried inside him, right up to the knuckles, that very morning.
Jesus, he needed to take a fucking chill pill because every time he looked at Johnny’s hands he started to salivate like a dog with rabies.
He took a breath, trying to maintain some kind of focus.
Wendy’s house was cute, with its slightly topsy roof and a ‘Come on You Blues!’ stencil sprayed onto the corner of the front window. He grinned as Johnny passed her the massive bunch of roses they’d picked up from the supermarket, which she sniffed once before throwing over her shoulder and into the house.
Bitch.
They’d laid a bunch on Sam’s grave earlier in the day. She was much more grateful.
Johnny held out an arm for her, still reflexively avoiding the right even though the splint had been removed. That made Taylor’s blood boil, because how fucking dare they do that to?—
Letting out another breath, he pushed a hand through his hair and watched as Wendy approached the car. She was clinging to Johnny’s arm, her thin fingers squeezing his elbow as she smiled at Taylor through the window.
Taylor shifted again, thighs twitching and toes curling in the stupid little brown boat shoes he’d found in the bottom of Johnny’s wardrobe. Who the fuck was he kidding? Everything he was wearing was Johnny’s, right down to the navy blue boxers and socks. It was all just a bit too tight, butfuckif it didn’t scratch his itch to climb inside Johnny’s skin.
Shit.
He was doing it again. Breathing hard and staring at Johnny like a fucking psycho. Rubbing the back of his neck, he tried to act normal.
Wendy giggled as she slid into the back seat, her sparkly blue dress catching the evening sun and sending spots of lightpinging around the car. Taylor turned to her between the seats. “You can sit in the front, m’lady.”
“I’m good,” she said, smirking as she clipped her belt into place. “I’ve got a fantastic view from right here.”
She looked good all dolled up, and her heels were so high they made Taylor’s eyes water. “Damn, girl, you look great,” he said, giving her a salacious eyebrow wiggle through the rearview.
“I know.” She hummed, inspecting her nails. “Never know when you’re going to bump into Mr or Mrs Right. Even shaved my?—”
“Oookay,” Johnny said, sinking into the front passenger seat. “I don’t need that mental image.”
Wendy tutted, leaning forward to slap Johnny’s arm. “I was going to say armpits, you perv.”
Taylor grinned, starting the car. “Stop thinking about Wendy’s clunge, youperv.”
“Stop calling me a perv.”
Huffing, Johnny pulled on his seat belt and leant across the gap to whisper in Taylor’s ear, “You’re the one pumping out pheromones left, right and centre.”
Taylor grumbled, the old seats of the Ford Focus suddenly more uncomfortable than he had ever known them.
The restaurant was booming, as usual, and warm air whooshed into Taylor’s face as they stepped in from the street. There was a table of ten or so university students in the round booth near the bar, with another in the corner. At least half of them were doing shots as they ate; cheering loudly as one demolished an entire kebab by swallowing the skewer like a fucking sword eater.
Two thirds of the group looked up as they crossed the threshold between the porch and the main restaurant, only some of them having the decency to look away when Taylor glared back. Usually he didn’t mind the noise or the people, buttonight… Tonight something was rubbing him the wrong way and he just couldn’t put his finger on it.
“Alright?” Johnny asked, pressing himself to Taylor’s side as they meandered towards the table in the window.
Taylor slipped an arm around Johnny’s waist, nestling him against his hip. “Yep,” he replied, top lip peeling back reflexively when he noticed that one lad just wouldnotstop staring at Johnny’s neck.
