Taylor seized Scott’s shoulders, throwing him on his back. “Not this time, Scotty,” he growled, pinning Scott’s bird wrists with one hand as he used the others to nearly tear the Canadian boy’s boxers off. “I’m the seme this time.”
Scott smiled up at him, cheeks flushed. “Have you been reading anime porn again?” Taylor’s blue eyes glinted evilly, and he captured the others’ lips in a bruising kiss. He grasped Scott’s turgid manhood, pumping roughly. Scott gasped, his back arching off the bed. He thrust his hips in time with Taylor’s movements, desperately seeking release as the waves of passion and desire flooded his brain. “Oh, God--!” he exclaimed breathlessly, mouth open, drawing short, harsh gasps. “Tay--!”
Taylor drew away from Scott, pleased at the swollen lips, the slim figure writhing in ecstasy on the hotel bed. He stuck his fingers in his mouth, then withdrew them again, and moved his hand down to Scott’s untouched nether region, pausing. Was he ready for this? More importantly, was Scott?
Scott grasped his wrist, blue-hazel dark with lust- and love. “Please, Tay,” he gasped out, “make love to me.” He hooked Scott’s legs over his shoulders, brushing his hand over Scott's cheek. Slowly, carefully, he inserted a finger, letting Scott adjust to the strange feeling. He winced internally, knowing saliva wouldn’t be slick enough to make this comfortable, but there was nothing else. He inserted another, stretching the tight ring of muscle, carefully feeling for the spot he knew was here, somewhere… Scott’s body spasmed and he let out a strangled cry; there it was. He brushed it again, and Scott moaned, thrusting against Taylor’s invading digits. “Oh, God Tay! Please--!”
Withdrawing his fingers, Taylor wet his penis, and pressed it against Scott’s tight opening. Slowly, slowly, he forced it inside. Scott let out another cry- but this time of pain. He bit his lip, drawing blood, hands clenching the bedclothes like vices. “Sorry,” Taylor whispered, forcing another inch in. Finally, he was fully seated. Scott slowly relaxed around him, and as Taylor began to thrust, the whimpers of pain turned into moans of pleasure.
“Oh, God, I love you, I love you, I love— aah!” Scott moaned, panting heavily as Taylor sped up the pace of his thrusts, pressing his lips to Scott’s. Scott wrapped his arms around Taylor’s neck, jackknifing his body under his lover’s. Scott was bleeding, he could feel it, but the blood made his movements easier, oiled Scott’s inner walls. He grasped Scott’s sex, finding a rhythm with his thrusts, drawing Scott over the edge. He came violently, screaming Taylor’s name, and the rhythmic convulsioning of his inner walls brought Taylor to the brink. He shot his seed into Scott’s bowels with an exclamation of his love’s name.
“WHAT IN GOD’S NAME IS GOING ON?”
“Dad?”
“Get off my son!” Frank screamed, storming towards the bed, rage evident in his face. Taylor leapt away, fumbling for his boxers, a deep blush
staining his cheeks. Scott lay on his back, mouth slack in utter horror at the situation. Finally realizing he was naked, and covered in various… fluids,
he tried to draw his legs up to his chest. He gasped as pain shot through his abdomen. “Unngh…”
Frank shoved by Taylor, who was struggling to get dressed, and took a good look at Scott, laying there, looking very small and very scared, on the bed. His mouth was swollen and bleeding, his wrists were bruised where Taylor had gripped them. Most if all, Frank looked in shock at the blood running down Scott’s thin legs, pooling in the sheets. He reached down and picked up his son’s underwear, noting with disdain that they were torn. We whirled, bearing down on Taylor. “What, you don’t get enough with your groupies? You have to rape my son?”
Taylor gaped at him. Rape? Rape?! “I didn’t…! I…” he whispered, backing away from the enraged man. Scott shrunk further back on the bed, squeezing his eyes shut against his father’s anger and accusations. “I would never… I didn’t!” he said frantically, dashing to the bed. He grabbed Scott’s arms, shaking him roughly. “Tell him, Scott! Tell him I didn’t rape you! Goddamnit, Scott!” Taylor sounded near tears as he looked pleadingly into Scott’s eyes. Scott stared back at him, eyes frantic.
“He… he… Dad, he…” he tried to say, trying to withdraw into himself. “He didn’t…” The words wouldn’t come out. Taylor’s eyes stung with unshed tears. Did Scott think he raped him?
“Scott, that wasn’t rape, right? You wanted it! You started it!” he shouted, standing and walking a few feet away. He bent, picked up Scott’s shorts and shirt, and threw them at him. “You goddamn little liar. I didn’t rape you.” He stalked out of the room angrily, refusing to cry. How dare he.
“Tay, I…” he trailed off, looking hopelessly at the door, then to his father. He let out a choking little sob, burying his face in his hands. He was too much of a chicken to admit to his father that he was in love with Taylor. And now…
“Scott,” his father said, stroking his sweaty hair. “I don’t want you leaving this room- got it? I’m going to talk to Walker.”
“N-no!” he gasped, lunging forward, and immediately regretting it. It hurt! “You can’t…”
“Scott, that… bastard,” Frank spit the word out, “is not getting away with this.” He slammed the door on his way out.
“Oh, God…” he moaned, the tears beginning to fall. “What have I done? Oh dear God, what have I done?”