even more ficspam
Follow up to Knitting and Friends. For the Table of Fluff.
Rated M for Mature.
I manage to avoid Seth and Summer the next day because Taylor actually picks me up at school.
She explains in simple terms that whereas we’re not exclusive, that she wants to keep fucking me until it gets too complicated.
Which is fine by me.
“As long as I can make it clear that you’re not going to turn me into a prep,” I remind her as she parks her pink convertible in the parking lot.
“I like you the way you are,” she says, eying my wife beater.
“Good,” I reply, satisfied.
She leans over and kisses me hard on the mouth and gets a grope before grabbing her backpack and hopping out of the car. A few of the girls are staring at her open mouthed.
“See you at three,” I tell her, getting out smoothly.
****
“Taylor Townsend?”
“Are you sleeping with her?”
“Taylor Townsend?!?”
“Is she hot? Ow…”
“Cohen, shut up, and let him answer me,” Summer says as Seth rubs his arm where she punched him.
I don’t say anything and she punches me next. “Taylor Townsend’s your rebound? Are you on the Crack?” she demands, serious.
“You are pretty thin,” Seth adds.
I recognize Taylor’s perfume right before she spins me around. Her eyes are glazed and she’s opening and closing her mouth blankly.
“Taylor?” I call.
“Come with me. We have to go now,” she says finally, taking my wrist and pulling me away from the table.
“Wait, where are you taking him?” Summer yells.
“Seth will cover for us,” Taylor says.
“What?” Seth coughs.
She glares at him and even Summer recoils.
“Fine,” Seth says, holding up his hands.
I follow Taylor to the parking lot, appreciating the tightness of her white Capri’s and her lack of visible underwear.
“Where are we going?”
“I’m not going to tell you until we get on the highway,” she replies, glancing at me, nervous.
“Taylor?”
She sighs, huffy but relents, holding out her cell phone.
“Do I need to call the police?” I joke, holding the phone.
“No, look at the last text message I got,” she says.
I read the text. “You won?”
“I won a walk-on part in a music video, see, I signed up for this contest through this fan club and I won…and I have to be in LA by three and I get to bring a guest and you’re the only person…that wouldn’t make fun of me,” she says, glancing at me.
“What band?” I ask, surprised that she’s a fangirl.
A smile flickers across her lips and I can see how excited she is. She mumbles something.
“What?”
“Fall Out Boy,” she admits.
“Oh. I’ve actually heard of them,” I reply. “I don’t listen to much music, except what Seth plays.”
She grins at me and turns on the stereo. “I can get you educated before we get there.”
****
I hadn’t dressed up today and I was wearing my old jeans with the rip in the knee and the frays from walking on them and my trusty black boots. I hadn’t even bothered with an overshirt with my wifebeater, opting for the thin black leather jacket that Kirsten had given me last week.
Taylor starts primping furiously when the contest organizer left them alone in the studio’s office while she went to get the band for introductions.
“You okay?” I ask her, amused.
“Do I look okay?” she replies, turning and straightening her tank top.
“You look great.”
She smiles. “Don’t let me pass out,” she says.
The door opens and these guys I’ve never seen before walk in wearing jeans and t-shirts and Taylor loses all the tan from her skin and starts to hyperventilate.
I fan her and help her stand up and after a few tense moments, she recovers and manages to apologize to the people who are apparently the band.
“I just love you guys so much,” she says, blushing.
The short guy is looking at us with an excited expression on his face. “You guys are perfect.”
“Us guys?” I ask, surprised. I didn’t sign up for the contest.
“Yes, both of you,” he replies, murmuring something to the guy beside him.
“Yeah, that totally works,” the other guy says.
“Let’s get you both to make up,” the contest organizer says and we’re separated and taken into separate rooms.
They don’t do much for me apart from giving me a couple of gold chains and mussing my hair before plastering my face with make up.
“Perfect,” the man that is styling me says, pulling me from the room.
Even if I was a big talker, nobody around here takes the time to listen.
The sound stage is separated into different sets and I’m posed on a barstool facing the band.
Taylor is waving at me from a few feet away, a big grin plastered on her face. She’s wearing her same outfit but she’s glowing in the makeup under the lights.
“Okay,” someone I assume is the director says, calling us both together. “We’re going to do a couple of scenes at once with different cameras. Ryan, you’re watching the band and you don’t see her across the bar. She’s going to walk over and put her arms around you. Then you’ll make out, just do what you do at home, and keep making out until we get our band playing shots, okay?”
It’s all going so fast, but the band starts up, deafening, and I try to ignore all the people and watch the band.
I see Taylor sauntering across the set, her hips swaying in a beat to the music and she kisses my neck before she wraps her arms around me, under my jacket, her hands settle against my back.
She kisses my neck and I close my eyes, enjoying the feel of her mouth on my skin.
I put my hand behind her head to get her lips against mine and everything goes quiet and all I’m focused on is her mouth.
After several moments, the applause brings us out of our session and the band is laughing and I can tell that we’ve done okay.
****
They make us act out a couple of more scenes in our regular clothes before they make us go to wardrobe again.
I’ve never worn eyeliner before but it isn’t a bad look. They paint a spiral tattoo on my arm and give me leather pants and take my shirt and when I come out, the bar scene has been changed to a club scene with a black vinyl couch.
Taylor’s sitting on the arm of the couch, the band sitting on the cushions and she’s smoking hot.
She’s wearing a black bodice that accentuates her breasts and she’s wearing fire engine red lipstick and nail polish. The miniskirt is short enough that I can see the black garters holding up her fishnet stockings.
I walk over and she smiles at me, her face looking drastically different, but she’s like a movie star. She’s sparkling from some kind of body glitter and I want to kiss her.
“All right, we want you to walk over and dance with her. Make it hot, okay? Just like before, and when the chorus kicks in, we want you to make out with her against this wall,” the director says, motioning to a brick wall lit with imitation streetlights.
I’ve never been a good dancer, but I don’t have time to protest before the music starts up.
I simply follow my instincts and tangle a hand in her hair to encourage her to stand up.
Turns out that I don’t have to do anything because Taylor starts moving her hips and wraps herself around me, swaying seductively to the music and I just hold onto and appreciate the feel of her body against me.
She’s fucking hot and I want to take her right now and make this a porno set, but the music picks up and I realize that Taylor is in complete control as she pushes me against the wall and lowers her mouth to suck on my nipple.
I distract her, pulling her back to kiss my mouth instead and I cup her ass in my hands.
I lift her up and she automatically puts her legs around my waist so I can hold her. I put her back against the wall and put hickeys on her neck.
****
Taylor carries the tickets to the concert and afterparty like they are gold in her hands.
I don’t want her to take the makeup off and she’s already told me how hot she thinks my eyeliner is and her giddiness is infectious on the ride back.
She pulls over at the curb outside the Cohens and smiles at me.
“What?”
“Thanks for today. It was…amazing. Like a dream,” she says.
“More like a fantasy,” I reply honestly and she nods, her face lighting up.
“Let’s make it a real one,” she says, putting the top up on the car with a push of a button. “Back seat.”
I don’t argue and it’s cramped, but her hand finds my cock at the same moment that my fingers find her clit.
“Fuck me, fast, before someone sees us,” she says between kisses.
Her pussy fits me like a glove and I realize that are clothes are not even off, just pulled down to let us fuck.
My orgasm’s been building all day and she pumps me like she’s been wanting it too.
“We’re so hot together,” she says, moaning as we climax together.
“You’re hot,” I whisper, kissing her.
There’s a rapping on the back window and I realize that we left the windows down. Sandy is horrified.
“What is on your face? Who is on your lap?! Ryan Atwood!” he says, redfaced.
“Got to go,” I tell her and she nods, getting dressed stealthily and helping me tuck myself in so I can face Sandy’s wrath.
****
I recognize the song but can’t make it to the remote in time before my face fills the screen.
I haven’t seen the video, but it’s been a few weeks since we were filmed so I should have expected it.
“Oh god, Ryan?! Is that you?” Seth yells, his voice high-pitched as he grabs the remote from my fingertips and hits ‘record’ on the TIVO.
“What are you yelling about?” Kirsten says, walking in as the screen lights up with a wide shot of Taylor licking my chest while my head rolls back in rapture.
“Jesus and Holy Moses,” Seth states, stunned.
”Ryan?” Kirsten gasps, looking to me for a response.
There are really no words because in the next shot, Taylor’s dry humping me in the dance scene.
Sandy chooses that moment to walk in and his face turns redder than when he caught us in the car.
My phone rings and I accidentally hit ‘answer’ instead of sending it to voicemail and Taylor’s squee is unmistakable in my ear.
“Call you back,” I say, hitting ‘end’ immediately.
“Ryan?” Kirsten repeats, her eyes glued to the screen.
“Leather pants?” Seth states, watching the scene entirely too closely.
“Taylor won a contest and one day we drove to LA and filmed a music video and we had to pretend to make out…they made us do it…” I announce.
“How, by putting candy on her tonsils?” Sandy asks.
“That’s the best pretending I’ve ever seen,” Seth murmurs.
“This isn’t a video, this is a soft core porn,” Kirsten says, stricken.
“We’re not naked,” I stammer, but they show Taylor’s legs around my waist against the wall and the house phone and Seth’s phone start to ring.
“Go to your room,” Kirsten says.
“I got free CD’s,” I start, but she gives me a death glare and I obey.
****
Rated M for Mature.
I manage to avoid Seth and Summer the next day because Taylor actually picks me up at school.
She explains in simple terms that whereas we’re not exclusive, that she wants to keep fucking me until it gets too complicated.
Which is fine by me.
“As long as I can make it clear that you’re not going to turn me into a prep,” I remind her as she parks her pink convertible in the parking lot.
“I like you the way you are,” she says, eying my wife beater.
“Good,” I reply, satisfied.
She leans over and kisses me hard on the mouth and gets a grope before grabbing her backpack and hopping out of the car. A few of the girls are staring at her open mouthed.
“See you at three,” I tell her, getting out smoothly.
****
“Taylor Townsend?”
“Are you sleeping with her?”
“Taylor Townsend?!?”
“Is she hot? Ow…”
“Cohen, shut up, and let him answer me,” Summer says as Seth rubs his arm where she punched him.
I don’t say anything and she punches me next. “Taylor Townsend’s your rebound? Are you on the Crack?” she demands, serious.
“You are pretty thin,” Seth adds.
I recognize Taylor’s perfume right before she spins me around. Her eyes are glazed and she’s opening and closing her mouth blankly.
“Taylor?” I call.
“Come with me. We have to go now,” she says finally, taking my wrist and pulling me away from the table.
“Wait, where are you taking him?” Summer yells.
“Seth will cover for us,” Taylor says.
“What?” Seth coughs.
She glares at him and even Summer recoils.
“Fine,” Seth says, holding up his hands.
I follow Taylor to the parking lot, appreciating the tightness of her white Capri’s and her lack of visible underwear.
“Where are we going?”
“I’m not going to tell you until we get on the highway,” she replies, glancing at me, nervous.
“Taylor?”
She sighs, huffy but relents, holding out her cell phone.
“Do I need to call the police?” I joke, holding the phone.
“No, look at the last text message I got,” she says.
I read the text. “You won?”
“I won a walk-on part in a music video, see, I signed up for this contest through this fan club and I won…and I have to be in LA by three and I get to bring a guest and you’re the only person…that wouldn’t make fun of me,” she says, glancing at me.
“What band?” I ask, surprised that she’s a fangirl.
A smile flickers across her lips and I can see how excited she is. She mumbles something.
“What?”
“Fall Out Boy,” she admits.
“Oh. I’ve actually heard of them,” I reply. “I don’t listen to much music, except what Seth plays.”
She grins at me and turns on the stereo. “I can get you educated before we get there.”
****
I hadn’t dressed up today and I was wearing my old jeans with the rip in the knee and the frays from walking on them and my trusty black boots. I hadn’t even bothered with an overshirt with my wifebeater, opting for the thin black leather jacket that Kirsten had given me last week.
Taylor starts primping furiously when the contest organizer left them alone in the studio’s office while she went to get the band for introductions.
“You okay?” I ask her, amused.
“Do I look okay?” she replies, turning and straightening her tank top.
“You look great.”
She smiles. “Don’t let me pass out,” she says.
The door opens and these guys I’ve never seen before walk in wearing jeans and t-shirts and Taylor loses all the tan from her skin and starts to hyperventilate.
I fan her and help her stand up and after a few tense moments, she recovers and manages to apologize to the people who are apparently the band.
“I just love you guys so much,” she says, blushing.
The short guy is looking at us with an excited expression on his face. “You guys are perfect.”
“Us guys?” I ask, surprised. I didn’t sign up for the contest.
“Yes, both of you,” he replies, murmuring something to the guy beside him.
“Yeah, that totally works,” the other guy says.
“Let’s get you both to make up,” the contest organizer says and we’re separated and taken into separate rooms.
They don’t do much for me apart from giving me a couple of gold chains and mussing my hair before plastering my face with make up.
“Perfect,” the man that is styling me says, pulling me from the room.
Even if I was a big talker, nobody around here takes the time to listen.
The sound stage is separated into different sets and I’m posed on a barstool facing the band.
Taylor is waving at me from a few feet away, a big grin plastered on her face. She’s wearing her same outfit but she’s glowing in the makeup under the lights.
“Okay,” someone I assume is the director says, calling us both together. “We’re going to do a couple of scenes at once with different cameras. Ryan, you’re watching the band and you don’t see her across the bar. She’s going to walk over and put her arms around you. Then you’ll make out, just do what you do at home, and keep making out until we get our band playing shots, okay?”
It’s all going so fast, but the band starts up, deafening, and I try to ignore all the people and watch the band.
I see Taylor sauntering across the set, her hips swaying in a beat to the music and she kisses my neck before she wraps her arms around me, under my jacket, her hands settle against my back.
She kisses my neck and I close my eyes, enjoying the feel of her mouth on my skin.
I put my hand behind her head to get her lips against mine and everything goes quiet and all I’m focused on is her mouth.
After several moments, the applause brings us out of our session and the band is laughing and I can tell that we’ve done okay.
****
They make us act out a couple of more scenes in our regular clothes before they make us go to wardrobe again.
I’ve never worn eyeliner before but it isn’t a bad look. They paint a spiral tattoo on my arm and give me leather pants and take my shirt and when I come out, the bar scene has been changed to a club scene with a black vinyl couch.
Taylor’s sitting on the arm of the couch, the band sitting on the cushions and she’s smoking hot.
She’s wearing a black bodice that accentuates her breasts and she’s wearing fire engine red lipstick and nail polish. The miniskirt is short enough that I can see the black garters holding up her fishnet stockings.
I walk over and she smiles at me, her face looking drastically different, but she’s like a movie star. She’s sparkling from some kind of body glitter and I want to kiss her.
“All right, we want you to walk over and dance with her. Make it hot, okay? Just like before, and when the chorus kicks in, we want you to make out with her against this wall,” the director says, motioning to a brick wall lit with imitation streetlights.
I’ve never been a good dancer, but I don’t have time to protest before the music starts up.
I simply follow my instincts and tangle a hand in her hair to encourage her to stand up.
Turns out that I don’t have to do anything because Taylor starts moving her hips and wraps herself around me, swaying seductively to the music and I just hold onto and appreciate the feel of her body against me.
She’s fucking hot and I want to take her right now and make this a porno set, but the music picks up and I realize that Taylor is in complete control as she pushes me against the wall and lowers her mouth to suck on my nipple.
I distract her, pulling her back to kiss my mouth instead and I cup her ass in my hands.
I lift her up and she automatically puts her legs around my waist so I can hold her. I put her back against the wall and put hickeys on her neck.
****
Taylor carries the tickets to the concert and afterparty like they are gold in her hands.
I don’t want her to take the makeup off and she’s already told me how hot she thinks my eyeliner is and her giddiness is infectious on the ride back.
She pulls over at the curb outside the Cohens and smiles at me.
“What?”
“Thanks for today. It was…amazing. Like a dream,” she says.
“More like a fantasy,” I reply honestly and she nods, her face lighting up.
“Let’s make it a real one,” she says, putting the top up on the car with a push of a button. “Back seat.”
I don’t argue and it’s cramped, but her hand finds my cock at the same moment that my fingers find her clit.
“Fuck me, fast, before someone sees us,” she says between kisses.
Her pussy fits me like a glove and I realize that are clothes are not even off, just pulled down to let us fuck.
My orgasm’s been building all day and she pumps me like she’s been wanting it too.
“We’re so hot together,” she says, moaning as we climax together.
“You’re hot,” I whisper, kissing her.
There’s a rapping on the back window and I realize that we left the windows down. Sandy is horrified.
“What is on your face? Who is on your lap?! Ryan Atwood!” he says, redfaced.
“Got to go,” I tell her and she nods, getting dressed stealthily and helping me tuck myself in so I can face Sandy’s wrath.
****
I recognize the song but can’t make it to the remote in time before my face fills the screen.
I haven’t seen the video, but it’s been a few weeks since we were filmed so I should have expected it.
“Oh god, Ryan?! Is that you?” Seth yells, his voice high-pitched as he grabs the remote from my fingertips and hits ‘record’ on the TIVO.
“What are you yelling about?” Kirsten says, walking in as the screen lights up with a wide shot of Taylor licking my chest while my head rolls back in rapture.
“Jesus and Holy Moses,” Seth states, stunned.
”Ryan?” Kirsten gasps, looking to me for a response.
There are really no words because in the next shot, Taylor’s dry humping me in the dance scene.
Sandy chooses that moment to walk in and his face turns redder than when he caught us in the car.
My phone rings and I accidentally hit ‘answer’ instead of sending it to voicemail and Taylor’s squee is unmistakable in my ear.
“Call you back,” I say, hitting ‘end’ immediately.
“Ryan?” Kirsten repeats, her eyes glued to the screen.
“Leather pants?” Seth states, watching the scene entirely too closely.
“Taylor won a contest and one day we drove to LA and filmed a music video and we had to pretend to make out…they made us do it…” I announce.
“How, by putting candy on her tonsils?” Sandy asks.
“That’s the best pretending I’ve ever seen,” Seth murmurs.
“This isn’t a video, this is a soft core porn,” Kirsten says, stricken.
“We’re not naked,” I stammer, but they show Taylor’s legs around my waist against the wall and the house phone and Seth’s phone start to ring.
“Go to your room,” Kirsten says.
“I got free CD’s,” I start, but she gives me a death glare and I obey.
****