10. Taylor

Taylor

H uckslee snores. Loudly .

Like a bear starting a chainsaw, or whatever that saying is.

Cracking open an eye, I nudge him irritably with my elbow until he finally quiets down, and then I try to go back to sleep.

Five minutes later, he's snoring again.

With a sigh, I roll onto my back and resign myself to staring at his ceiling. There's a snowstorm outside, so the room is dark even though it's late morning. Whatever shitty playlist he'd been listening to last night still plays quietly from the speaker I'd barely remembered to take with us from the pool.

Fuck . The pool.

Memories from last night come pouring back, and I shift to adjust my morning wood. To be honest, I hadn't planned on nearly drowning my stepbrother and then jerking him off when I found him yesterday. But life's a lot easier to deal with if I go with the flow instead of fighting it, so here we are, I guess.

In Huck's bed. With a massive boner at the memory of the sound he made right before he came.

Jesus. What the fuck had I been thinking?

Well, that's just it. I hadn't been thinking, had I? Not with the right head, anyway. One look at Huck's glowing skin and damp curls was enough to push me into insanity, apparently.

What's wrong with me?

He mumbles something in his sleep, moaning low, and I feel it go straight to my balls.

I'm horny as fuck right now. Did I like what I did to him last night? Hell yeah. Hottest experience of my life. Never given a handjob before, but the way he turned to putty in my hands tells me that I did just fine.

If the roles had been reversed, though? If he'd been the one to slip his hands into my pants instead?

Pulling my cock out, I stroke myself slowly next to Huck's sleeping body, imagining his hand instead of mine. I picture him gripping me, his lips on mine like I was the answer to his salvation. A bead of precum forms at my tip, and I roll my thumb over it as the fantasy in my head changes. I see Huck on his knees now, kneeling with my cock in his mouth, those big brown eyes looking up at me while I thrust into his throat—

The asshole chooses that exact moment to let loose the loudest snore I've ever heard in my entire fucking life.

Growling in exasperation, I tuck myself back into my sweats before yanking the pillow out from under his head to smack him with it. "Shut the fuck up, Huckslee."

He snorts, slowly opening his bloodshot eyes. "Taylor? "

His voice is low and husky from sleep, doing nothing to help the situation in my pants right now.

"Morning, princess," I smirk at him, watching as he rubs the crusties from his long lashes and slowly sits up. He blinks around the room dazedly, confused as hell, and I bite my lip at how adorable he looks. Of course, he's still in his swim trunks because dressing him in jammies was way too much for me.

"What are you doing in my room?"

Trying to get off, which you rudely interrupted.

"I was sleeping," I drawl, "but your loud-ass snores woke me up."

He stares at me blankly, and I can almost see his gears turning beneath those tousled curls. "You slept in my bed?"

"Well, yeah. You were pretty out of it last night when we got home. Wrapped your arms around me like an octopus and wouldn't let me leave."

Bit of an exaggeration, but it's true for the most part. He had my hand in a vice grip and kept mumbling don't leave in a way that seriously freaked me out. I only meant to stay with him until he fell asleep, but I ended up passing out myself not too long after.

A frown pulls at his brows. "Got home?"

"Yeah. From the pool."

The look he gives me makes it seem as if I've sprouted horns, and a sick feeling churns in my stomach.

"What pool?"

"What do you mean?" I sit up quickly, my heart kicking up in my chest as I scoot closer to him. "You don't remember the pool? "

He shakes his head quickly as if to clear it. "The last thing I remember is texting you in the cafeteria."

What the fucking fuck.

"Are you serious right now?" My hands fly to cup his face, pulling down his bottom lids to look at his eyes, real fear closing my throat. "That was four days ago, Huck."

Shit. Shit shit. This is bad. Did I cause some kind of permanent damage?

Bile rises in my throat as the pulse pounds in my veins. The room spins, and I do weird shit, like check his gums and feel his forehead. I don't even know what I'm looking for, but panic is seizing my lungs. The corners of Huck's lips twitch when my fingers find his pulse point, and I pause when a grin slowly spreads across his face. Before I know it, he's doubling over in a fit of laughter.

"You motherfucker." Shoving him in the chest, an exhale of relief makes me weak. "I thought I scrambled your brains or some shit."

"You deserve it for nearly drowning me, bitch." His shoulders shake with chuckles as he wipes the corners of his eyes.

Christ.

Falling backwards onto the bed, I cover my face. Honestly, last night could have been bad. Fuck's sake. Next time I try drowning him, remind me to do it when we're near the vicinity of a bed and not in a fucking high school.

"Hey." He leans over me, pulling my arms from my face, and I can't stand the way my chest aches at the warmth in his eyes. "How did we get home?"

"Um…I drove you."

He blinks. "In my car? "

"Uh-huh."

"Do you even have a license?"

I grin sheepishly up at him. "Nope."

" Fuuuck ." Huck hangs his head, curls falling into his eyes. "I don't even remember leaving the pool."

"Yeah, about that." I bite my lip with a wince. "Don't be surprised later when your dad gives you a lecture about the dangers of taking pain pills while swimming."

His eyes snap up to mine, shoulders tensing. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"You were super out of it, man. I had to come up with something."

He opens his mouth, dark eyes flashing in what I'm sure is anger before they zero in on something near my neck. His fingers pull down the collar of my shirt.

"Who the hell did this?" he demands, brushing a knuckle along my collarbone. I already know he's seeing the bruises my dad left when he held me in place on Thanksgiving, drunkenly screaming in my face for burning the food he'd forced me to make. With everything happening, Huck must have missed them last night in the pool.

Clearing my throat, I shrug as nonchalantly as I can. "Matty. The other day, he was excited about something and grabbed me a little too hard. No big deal."

The lie burns, but it flows off my tongue so smoothly. I've perfected this art over the years, though Huckslee is usually the one I'm blaming.

His nostrils flare as he looks at the bruises, pupils dilating in what I can only describe as pure rage. His jaw ticks at the corners, and for some reason, it looks like he's really fucking bothered by it.

"Hey," I reach up, pressing my thumb into the crease between his brows, "it's fine. It was an accident. Matt's a big doofus who doesn't know his own strength."

It's honestly the truth. As a kid, he got so excited about holding a baby duck that he accidentally squished it. His sister made me promise never to tell.

Huck is quiet for a moment before he leans down, closing the distance between us as he touches his lips to my collarbone and fuck. My barely deflated cock swells to life.

"I don't like seeing someone else's marks on you," he whispers into my skin, pressing soft kisses over my bruises like I'm some precious thing that requires care. It's something I'm used to getting from a girl, but from a guy? From Huck? The way he's trailing his hands down my chest, worshiping my throat with his tongue...it's completely different. Foreign. Uncharted territory.

My shirt lifts as his fingers push beneath it, running over my abs, and I squirm, breathing out a laugh. He raises his head to peek at me curiously.

"Ticklish." I bite my lip, and he gives me the brightest smile. It's so different from the strained, fake one I'm accustomed to seeing, lighting up his entire face. I'm slightly mesmerized when he kisses his way down my sternum.

"You didn't get to come last night." His teeth sink gently into my hip, forcing a groan out of me. My pulse quickens when his hand palms my cock outside my pants, rubbing firmly, deliberately, with slow strokes that I chase on a thrust. The tip of his tongue flicks out to lick the skin on my lower abdomen, and I almost come right there, swear to fucking God.

It's when his fingers tease the waistband of my sweats, though, that everything shifts. He tugs slightly, attempting to pull them down to release my cock, and immediately I clam up.

My father's voice roars through my head, every hateful word cracking my skull like a thunderclap. All of his threats shove to the surface, the fear of getting beaten to death and my bike taken away tangibly potent. His murderous face flashes in my mind's eye, gripping my arms when he threw me from the front porch at twelve, and I can't.

I can't.

"Wait, Huck." I grab both of his hands, halting his movements. "Stop. Stop"

"What's wrong?" His eyes snap to mine as he goes still, brows creasing in concern.

I moisten my lips nervously, my brain a puzzled mess. "I just...don't want to be touched...by you."

Fucking hell .

That last part wasn't on purpose.

Hurt flashes across his face, swiftly followed by anger, and he's off the bed before I can even process what the fuck I just said.

"No, Huck, I didn't mean—"

He retreats to the furthest side of the room near his closet, crossing his arms over his chest as if to protect himself from some metaphorical blow, and it feels like I'm inhaling glass.

"You don't want me to touch you," he repeats flatly, eyes growing colder than I've ever seen them .

Quickly rising from the bed, I face him with my palms up. "That's not what I meant."

"Explain it then, Taylor."

My lips part and then close. Part again. Nothing comes out because I don't even know what's happening in this fucked up head of mine right now. Everything's jumbled, thoughts and feelings as confusing as the next.

"Fucking say something," Huck snarls, and my self-control snaps.

"I don't fucking know," I yell angrily, and he grimaces as it echoes throughout the quiet house. "Okay? I. Don't. Know. I'm not... I've never done this type of shit before, Huckslee. I'm not like you!"

"Like what?" he spits frigidly. "Gay?"

"YES!"

God-fucking-dammit .

He scoffs, glaring at me incredulously. "What's your thought process here, Taylor? Enlighten me. Touching a dude's dick, jerking him off, isn't gay, but having your dick touched by another dude is ?"

Is that it? Is that why I feel like I'm on the verge of a meltdown right now? It doesn't feel right...but nothing else makes sense.

"And what about kissing a guy?" Huck continues, seething at me from the corner while I feel strapped to a runaway roller coaster, and it's on fire. "Because your tongue was pretty far down my throat last night. Is that not gay?"

He's making valid points. I know he is. So why does it feel like the air is being siphoned from my lungs by a vacuum? Why does my heart feel like it's trying to climb into my throat ?

Last night, when I touched Huck like that, I didn't even think about it. It felt like it came naturally to hold and kiss him like we were just two ordinary people sharing a moment. So I know, I know it's not the kissing part that's freaking me out right now. It's my fucking dick, apparently. Is he right? Does the thought of another guy touching it make me disgusted? The idea of him?

No.

So, what the fuck?

"Get out, Taylor," he snarls, and I blurt out the only thing I can think of.

"I've got a girlfriend."

He blinks, downright flabbergasted. "What?"

I swallow, glancing away. "I'm dating Salem. We broke up for a while, but we're back together now, so..."

It's a shitty excuse, but it's the only one I've got right now—at least until I figure out my shit.

He stares at me silently for a few minutes, his eyes jumping back and forth between mine.

Eventually, he turns his back to me, facing his closet, hands running through his hair. "Just…go, Taylor."

The defeat in those three words feels like a knife to my chest. I don't want to go. What's happening with my dick right now may be confusing as hell, but one thing for sure is that I do not want to leave .

"Huck..."

"Get the fuck out! "

Flinching, I step toward the door, stopping only once to look back at him, pleading silently for him to meet my gaze. He doesn't. So I leave without another word, the door softly closing behind me.