Chapter 18 #2
I gazed out and down the slope, the hill rolling away from me and turning into an endless forest that blanketed the earth all the way to the horizon. Snowcapped mountain peaks glimmered in the sunshine in the distance.
Being here alone had been a bad idea. Too much of the space was occupied by him, and he wasn’t here.
The good thing I discovered in it all was that none of the space was occupied by Emma.
Not only had she never wanted to come here and be “away from civilization,” as she’d jokingly told me, but her grip on my mind was loosening with every passing day.
And I say mind because I realized, over the days and weeks with Taylor, that her hold on my heart had been a lot weaker than I’d known. She had taken up the space in my head in the days after leaving me, but I had mistaken it for love.
Or maybe I had loved her still, loved her enough to want to see her angry with me, jealous, regretful, but that, too, had faded in the brilliance with which Taylor shone.
I stayed at the house for a few hours, pulling Taylor out of my memory and placing him where he had been.
Sitting on the high chair by the kitchen island, a little tense with his own nakedness, or strolling up the stairs and swinging his hips for me, or lying on top of me in the movie room, or leaning over my desk in the office.
Or in the bedroom, where he had been so beautiful and passionate.
I packed up and returned to my car, deciding that staying here alone wasn’t going to bring me anything I’d been hoping for. Instead, I sent him a simple text. Miss you. Because I did miss him. I missed him already, and the prospect of four days without him was weighing me down.
But those days also passed. I busied myself writing a new essay, deep-cleaning my apartment, and stumbling over the traces of Taylor every now and then.
There were his underwear in my hamper. His toothbrush was in the cup next to mine.
A new hairbrush had appeared in my apartment at some point, and there were a few precious hairs curling from it.
I found one sock under the bed that didn’t belong to me; the location of the other was a total mystery.
In the kitchen cabinet, there was a chocolate I hadn’t bought myself.
And then, when I thought I’d uncovered all the little things he’d left around, I found the plastic-cup jockstrap in the drawer where my toys and underwear were.
It was tucked in the back, left for later, but still very much in my home.
Its scent, a unique mix of Taylor’s sweat and cum and something indescribable, turned me on at first breath.
I thumbed the rim of the cup, then the soft padding inside of it, and brought it to my face for another deep inhale.
I called him later that evening from my bed. Taylor was in a dark room, his face lit blue by his screen, and his eyes shone with the reflection of his phone. “Hey, you,” he said.
“How’s the trip?” I asked.
“Dragging,” he admitted. “I’ve seen everyone I wanted to see. Twice. Now I’m waiting.”
“Twenty-four more hours,” I reminded him. We’d agreed that I would pick him up at the airport, so I’d been counting the hours. “Are you alone?”
His expression shifted from pleased to amused to mischievous in the span of three seconds. “I am,” he said softly.
“Look what I found,” I said, pushing my phone away a little and lifting his jockstrap. “Thanks for leaving it here.”
His eyes glimmered for a moment. It was the effect of the light of his phone, but it looked like he sparkled with interest. “I was wondering how long it would take you.”
“It was a few hours ago,” I admitted. “Maybe I had my fun with it before calling.”
“Oh, did you?” he asked. “Without me?”
I laughed in a low voice and rested the phone against my stomach, my chest, and head in the frame. “Like you didn’t.”
Taylor shrugged noncommittally and said nothing. Mysterious.
“You must be horny as hell, then,” I said with genuine concern. “How are you surviving it, baby boy?”
His ears perked, and his eyes widened at the words. He liked to be liked. He liked to be adored openly and honestly, without restraints.
“You’ve been very good,” I said. “Poor baby. You need to be rewarded for it.”
He closed his teeth around his bottom lip for a moment, then grinned. “You’re impossible.”
“I’m just very unlikely,” I said. “Are you naked?”
He shot me a look that held no reprimand in truth, then shuffled something beyond the view of his front camera, moving, tensing the muscles in his face, then relaxing again. “I am now.”
My dick stirred just knowing he was naked for me, even if he was seven hundred miles away. I just wanted to reach over and grab him, hold him, squeeze him until he pulsed in my hand and until his lips parted to let a soft moan out of his mouth.
“Touch yourself, Taylor,” I said. “Slowly.”
He did. I could tell by the way his eyes turned glassy, and his cheeks turned a little pink.
“Slower,” I said, wrapping my hand around my dick and giving it a lazy stroke. “I want you to suffer now. To beg me.”
He moved slowly by the sound of his movements, his breath shallow and quiet in the night. He looked at his screen, finding my face there, and his movement sped up.
“No, no,” I whispered. “Slower. Make it good, baby boy.”
A strangled moan left his lips, almost a scoff, and he did what I asked.
“Show me,” I said.
Taylor turned on a lamp on his nightstand and flipped the camera around, giving me the full view of his beautiful, big dick gripped in his right hand, gleaming with precum and twitching with tension as he dragged his hand slowly along its length. “Like this?” he asked.
“Just like that,” I said.
“And you?” he whispered.
I turned my camera around, showing him the same view, only his jockstrap was resting on my abdomen.
“Oh fuck,” he said in a low voice. “Come on it, Harrison. I want to see you come on my jockstrap.”
For all the control I thought I could exert over us both, I didn’t last long. I’d never had a sexy video call with anyone in my life, never thought they could be hot, but seeing Taylor stroke his dick so efficiently, faster and harder with every passing second, turned me on beyond belief.
I lost it then, jerking off for him instead of commanding him. I gave myself to his whims, and he led me, not by words but by example, to the highest of the highs before we crashed together.
Cum spilled over my hand, white ribbons shooting through the air and landing over his jockstrap just like he’d asked, and Taylor came over his hard abs a moment later, tension rippling through his muscles.
I could see the veins in his forearm, the shudder that passed through his torso, and the relentless throbbing of his dick until cum covered parts of his skin, and he lifted his hand, white drops dragging between his fingers.
“Such a good boy,” I whispered, out of breath. “I’m so gonna reward you for this tomorrow.”
Taylor flipped his camera around, face flushed and aglow. “A nice dinner, I hope.”
I turned to my front camera, too, giving him a soft look because he was so beautiful, and it made me all soft inside whenever I looked into his eyes. “The best kind.”
We spoke for a few minutes longer, and I was very aware that cum was cooling on his body, but that he was in no hurry to go to the bathroom to rinse it off.
When we said goodbye, I showered, returned to my bed, pulled the spare pillow under my arm, and fell asleep with Taylor before my eyes. Taylor, and a quiet certainty that this was not just a fun little thing we did in our spare time.