Chapter 22 The Teasing Game #2
Taylor kissed him like Fletcher belonged to him, giving Fletcher full body chills. He was absolute putty in Taylor’s grasp. He hummed against Taylor’s lips as Taylor swiped his tongue over Fletcher’s.
The elevator dinged, and Taylor quickly let him go. The doors opened, revealing an older woman.
“Going up?” She asked. Taylor nodded. “I’ll wait,” she told him. Taylor offered her a polite smile as the doors closed and the elevator kept on going up to the fifteenth floor.
They may not have had the biggest size difference, but Fletcher still felt so small compared to Taylor. His energy took up the entire elevator, firing off nerves through Fletcher’s body.
Finally, they reached their floor. Taylor stepped out first and Fletcher followed.
Their room was at the very end of the hall, which wasn’t that long. But the walk felt endless as they made their way back to the room. Finally, Taylor reached into his pocket as they approached their room and unlocked it. He walked inside and stepped aside for Fletcher.
Fletcher and he slipped out of their shoes.
Fletcher quickly pulled Taylor’s hoodie over his head and threw it down on the dresser as he walked over towards the window.
He reached up to close the curtains as Taylor walked up behind him.
He could feel Taylor’s breath on his neck as he leaned in towards Fletcher’s ear.
“Take your clothes off,” he whispered. Fletcher shuddered.
“No,” Fletcher told him, sounding unsure. He definitely wanted to take his clothes off, but he was still upset at Taylor. “Not tonight.”
Taylor sighed. “Well, goodnight then.” He said plainly. Fletcher turned around and glared at him as Taylor walked back over towards the door and bent down to grab his shoes.
“Where are you going?” Fletcher asked.
Taylor shrugged casually. “I said I was going to get you back here safely. I think I’m gonna head back for a few hours. The night’s still young.”
“What?” Fletcher gasped. Was he serious? Fletcher wasn’t in the mood for games. “Taylor, what are you doing?”
“Going back to the bar,” he told him, sounding completely obvious. “I’ll be quiet when I come back.”
“You’re not leaving,” Fletcher snapped. “What the fuck, Taylor?” He couldn’t believe Taylor was acting like this. Not after throwing a fit in the bar and orchestrating a whole thing to make Fletcher jealous.
“What’s wrong?” Taylor goaded. “Not ready to go to bed?”
“Fuck,” Fletcher muttered. Without even thinking, he reached down and pulled his shirt off. Taylor looked satisfied as he watched. “Put the shoes down,” he told Taylor.
“Why? I thought you were going to bed.”
“I want to blow you,” Fletcher told him, sounding slightly unhinged. “Take your pants off and get on the bed.”
Taylor smirked. “Whose bed?”
“Jesus fucking Christ, just pick a fucking bed!”
Taylor grinned like a fox as he dropped the shoes, pulled his shirt over his head and walked over towards the bed closest to Fletcher.
He reached down and unbuckled his belt before pulling his pants down.
He took a seat on the edge of the bed. “Take the rest of your clothes off,” he told Fletcher as he pulled his boxers down and removed his socks.
Fletcher silently obeyed, reaching down to unbutton his jeans and pull them down with his briefs. He took his socks off as he leaned down to step out of the jeans before picking them up and throwing them over near his suitcase.
He walked back over and kneeled in between Taylor’s legs. “You’re not allowed to do that again,” he told Taylor, sounding completely serious. This may all be a joke to Taylor, but Fletcher was dead serious.
“Do what?” Taylor egged on.
Fletcher grabbed his cock and licked the precome that had leaked from the tip. “Look at anyone else. Talk to them. You’re done with all of that. I’m the only one who gets to touch you.” Mine, mine, mine. All mine.
“Oh yeah?” Taylor asked shakily. His breath hitched as Fletcher sucked on his crown.
“Yup,” Fletcher said, popping off of him.
“I’m going to give you everything you need, baby,” he said.
He slowly licked Taylor’s crown before dipping his head down to suck on Taylor’s balls.
“I’m dead fucking serious, Taylor. I don’t give a shit about whatever the hell we are.
Friends, friends with benefits… it doesn’t matter anymore. No one else gets to touch what’s mine.”
“Fuck,” Taylor muttered, sounding shocked. He moved his head back up to Taylor’s length, licking him slowly from base-to-tip. He softly cupped Taylor’s balls in his hand.
“I’ll be patient,” Fletcher told him calmly.
“I can wait as long as you need until you wrap your mind around it. But if you so much as look at another girl—or guy,” Fletcher looked up at him as he tugged on Taylor’s sac.
Taylor groaned. Mine, mine, mine. Taylor was his.
No one else would get to have him. The thought of Taylor with another person made him see red. It wouldn’t happen.
“Try me and you’re fucking done for.” He really meant it.
Fletcher wouldn’t share. He didn’t know how to share.
He was used to getting everything he wanted.
At all costs. He’d been like that his entire life.
Acting out to get attention. He couldn’t help himself.
Not when it had been proven tried and true.
“I’ll be sweet. Patient. But I’m not pretending anymore. ”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Taylor asked with an edge of conviction in his tone. His gaze sharpened on Fletcher.
Fletcher’s mind was racing. He wasn’t thinking straight. He never did when he was jealous. It made his mind go to dark places. Fuck, he needed to stop. Taylor was different. This was different. What he and Taylor was different.
Fletcher pushed the thoughts away.
“Fletcher,” Taylor said. “Hey, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have tried to make you jealous.”
Fletcher let go of him, needing to put distance between them before he said something he’d regret.
“You’re the only one,” Taylor told him softly. Reassuringly. “I promise.” Fletcher hated the way Taylor looked at him. Like he was on edge and walking on eggshells. Like he’d been scared straight or something.
“Come here,” he whispered to Fletcher. Slowly. Like he was trying not to startle a deer. He reached a hand out for Fletcher.
Fletcher took his hand and slowly let Taylor pull him up to stand. Taylor reached out and wrapped his arms around Fletcher, pulling him into his lap.
“You’re the only one I want,” he told Fletcher softly. “Okay?” he asked with a hint of desperation in his voice. God, he probably thought Fletcher was mentally unstable. Maybe he was. He probably was.
Taylor reached up to cup Fletcher’s jaw. “Talk to me, Fletch,” he whispered.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” Fuck. What the hell was wrong with him?
“Hey, it’s okay,” Taylor told him reassuringly. Fletcher’s heart clenched. Taylor was too good for him. He wished he was strong enough to tell Taylor to run while he still could. “It’s my fault. I’m so sorry. I’m an idiot.”
Fletcher leaned down and kissed him. “I really like you,” he told Taylor. “You’re my best friend, Tay. Really.” The person he cared most for in the world. The only person he could be vulnerable with. The only person who could see right through him.
Taylor smiled weakly, nodding. “I know. Just… give me some time, yeah?”
Fletcher answered by leaning down and kissing him again.