Title: INK
CHAPTER 13: FUCK
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Slash / Hanson / Hancest / Zaylor / Drama
Warnings: Language, Drug use, Slash, Sex
Pairing: Zac & Taylor
Credits & many Thanks: to heart_iswild
http://heart-iswild.livejournal.com
Notes: Hanson ain't famous in this Story, but Taylor is in a band called Aphrodite. Don't wonder about Taylor's tattoo ;-)
It's a bit shorter than the other chapters, but it's important! I hope I still have some readers :)
Blue and yellow. Blurry. Focused more…red, red scratches. Taylor. Red scratches on Taylor. Taylor’s face. Why was he bleeding?
As things started to come more into focus, the pain in my head became sharper.
“Fuck,” I croaked, opening my eyes against the harsh light of the room. My head was cushioned between Taylor’s legs as I looked up at him and he stared down at me.
“Are you okay?” He asked, using the soft pads of his fingertips to rub small circles around my temples. It felt good for a minute- until I remembered what had happened.
“What? No, I’m not okay.” Swatting his hands away from my face, I sat up and touched the back of my head gingerly, cringing at the stab of pain. Taylor stood up and ran a washcloth under the water before kneeling down in front of me.
“This’ll make it feel better,” he crooned, pressing the compress to the back of my head. I winced, taking it from him and holding it there.
“What-Where’s Ike?” I asked accusingly, feeling my face soften as I eyed the scratches on Taylor’s cheek.
“I don’t know.” His eyes moved to the floor as he absently touched and whimpered at the fresh cuts on his face. “He um. Was pretty mad.”
“No shit.”
“Yeah.”
“Did he do this to you?” I asked furiously, touching the wounds on my brother’s cheek.
“I’m fine.”
“Okay.”
“I have a queasy feeling Tay.” We were lying in his bed, staring up at the ceiling with our hands resting on our chests. “What do you think he’s gonna do? You think he’s gonna tell?” I turned my head to look at him. Isaac had basically scratched the hell out of his cheek, which was unfortunate for me because it made him look pretty rugged, and I liked it when he looked more feminine.
“I dunno,” he admitted. “I really don’t have any idea. Would it be so bad, though? Like, if he told?”
My eyes opened wide with horror. “What!? YES it would be bad, Taylor! How can you- how can you even doubt that?”
“Stop yelling at me.”
“Well then stop being stupid and naive.”
We sat in silence for a while after that, the comfort that his presence once offered fading into a mild, but surely there awkwardness.
Dinner that night seemed pretty normal. No one asked Taylor or me how we’d acquired the lovely gashes on our faces or asked where Isaac was. Things seemed pretty okay, that was, until Isaac walked in through the front door.
“Ikey!” My mother yelled, which was kind of hilarious because I was pretty sure she hadn’t even realized that he was missing. “Where were you? Come, come sit down.”
Isaac threw his leather jacket over the arm of the couch and scoffed contemptuously, narrowing his eyes at me. I looked away.
“No thanks, ma. The faggots at yer table have kinda made me lose my appetite.” Immediately, everybody’s eyes went to Taylor, who was staring down at his plate.
“Now Isaac, watch your language.” My mother spooned a mouthful of crushed carrots into my baby brother’s mouth.
“No!” he yelled suddenly walking over to the table and pointing his finger at me. I looked behind me, just to make sure it was really me he was pointing to. “Taylor and Zac are fucking each other!”
My great grandmother choked on her dinner roll and Jessica cocked her head in confusion.
“Isaac, stop it.” My father’s voice was serious and stern.
“No! I fucking saw it, they were fucking in Taylor’s room, they’re fuckin’ faggots together!”
“ENOUGH,” my dad yelled, backing his chair away from the table and standing up. Everyone’s eyes were on him except for Taylor, who looked about ready to puke. I, on the other hand, was trying to make sure my face looked as horror-struck as everyone else’s.
“Zachary, Isaac, Taylor, upstairs. Now.”
FUCK.
The three of us sat on my parents’ bed, all with our arms crossed, afraid to meet my father’s eyes.
“What the fuck just happened down there?” he asked, sounding more confused than angry.
“I already told you,” Isaac interjected venomously, “I walked in on Taylor getting fucked by Zac.”
“Do you believe that?!” I asked my father in disbelief, trying to sound as innocent as possible. “How could he even,” I turned to Isaac, “how could you even accuse us of something like that? That’s disgusting!”
“Quiet, Zac.” My father pulled over a chair and sat in it tiredly, pressing his fingers between his eyebrows. “What is this really about, Isaac? I’m going to be honest here, I don’t really believe you.”
“It’s true!” he shouted, throwing his hands in the air.
“You’re just bitter because I’ve been spending time with Taylor.”
“Don’t talk to me you fucking homo.”
“Asshole.”
“Queer.”
“Both of you, shut the fuck up.” My father rubbed his temples, looking as if he was going to explode any second. “Taylor, what do you have to say about all of this?”
“I.” His face was hidden behind the curtain of his whitish hair as he wrung his hands in his lap. Just lie, I tried to plead with him telepathically, just lie. Fuck Taylor, just lie.
“Yeah, it’s true.”
FUCK. Fuck fuck fuck.
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Slash / Hanson / Hancest / Zaylor / Drama
Warnings: Language, Drug use, Slash, Sex
Pairing: Zac & Taylor
Credits & many Thanks: to heart_iswild
http://heart-iswild.livejournal.com
Notes: Hanson ain't famous in this Story, but Taylor is in a band called Aphrodite. Don't wonder about Taylor's tattoo ;-)
It's a bit shorter than the other chapters, but it's important! I hope I still have some readers :)
Blue and yellow. Blurry. Focused more…red, red scratches. Taylor. Red scratches on Taylor. Taylor’s face. Why was he bleeding?
As things started to come more into focus, the pain in my head became sharper.
“Fuck,” I croaked, opening my eyes against the harsh light of the room. My head was cushioned between Taylor’s legs as I looked up at him and he stared down at me.
“Are you okay?” He asked, using the soft pads of his fingertips to rub small circles around my temples. It felt good for a minute- until I remembered what had happened.
“What? No, I’m not okay.” Swatting his hands away from my face, I sat up and touched the back of my head gingerly, cringing at the stab of pain. Taylor stood up and ran a washcloth under the water before kneeling down in front of me.
“This’ll make it feel better,” he crooned, pressing the compress to the back of my head. I winced, taking it from him and holding it there.
“What-Where’s Ike?” I asked accusingly, feeling my face soften as I eyed the scratches on Taylor’s cheek.
“I don’t know.” His eyes moved to the floor as he absently touched and whimpered at the fresh cuts on his face. “He um. Was pretty mad.”
“No shit.”
“Yeah.”
“Did he do this to you?” I asked furiously, touching the wounds on my brother’s cheek.
“I’m fine.”
“Okay.”
“I have a queasy feeling Tay.” We were lying in his bed, staring up at the ceiling with our hands resting on our chests. “What do you think he’s gonna do? You think he’s gonna tell?” I turned my head to look at him. Isaac had basically scratched the hell out of his cheek, which was unfortunate for me because it made him look pretty rugged, and I liked it when he looked more feminine.
“I dunno,” he admitted. “I really don’t have any idea. Would it be so bad, though? Like, if he told?”
My eyes opened wide with horror. “What!? YES it would be bad, Taylor! How can you- how can you even doubt that?”
“Stop yelling at me.”
“Well then stop being stupid and naive.”
We sat in silence for a while after that, the comfort that his presence once offered fading into a mild, but surely there awkwardness.
Dinner that night seemed pretty normal. No one asked Taylor or me how we’d acquired the lovely gashes on our faces or asked where Isaac was. Things seemed pretty okay, that was, until Isaac walked in through the front door.
“Ikey!” My mother yelled, which was kind of hilarious because I was pretty sure she hadn’t even realized that he was missing. “Where were you? Come, come sit down.”
Isaac threw his leather jacket over the arm of the couch and scoffed contemptuously, narrowing his eyes at me. I looked away.
“No thanks, ma. The faggots at yer table have kinda made me lose my appetite.” Immediately, everybody’s eyes went to Taylor, who was staring down at his plate.
“Now Isaac, watch your language.” My mother spooned a mouthful of crushed carrots into my baby brother’s mouth.
“No!” he yelled suddenly walking over to the table and pointing his finger at me. I looked behind me, just to make sure it was really me he was pointing to. “Taylor and Zac are fucking each other!”
My great grandmother choked on her dinner roll and Jessica cocked her head in confusion.
“Isaac, stop it.” My father’s voice was serious and stern.
“No! I fucking saw it, they were fucking in Taylor’s room, they’re fuckin’ faggots together!”
“ENOUGH,” my dad yelled, backing his chair away from the table and standing up. Everyone’s eyes were on him except for Taylor, who looked about ready to puke. I, on the other hand, was trying to make sure my face looked as horror-struck as everyone else’s.
“Zachary, Isaac, Taylor, upstairs. Now.”
FUCK.
The three of us sat on my parents’ bed, all with our arms crossed, afraid to meet my father’s eyes.
“What the fuck just happened down there?” he asked, sounding more confused than angry.
“I already told you,” Isaac interjected venomously, “I walked in on Taylor getting fucked by Zac.”
“Do you believe that?!” I asked my father in disbelief, trying to sound as innocent as possible. “How could he even,” I turned to Isaac, “how could you even accuse us of something like that? That’s disgusting!”
“Quiet, Zac.” My father pulled over a chair and sat in it tiredly, pressing his fingers between his eyebrows. “What is this really about, Isaac? I’m going to be honest here, I don’t really believe you.”
“It’s true!” he shouted, throwing his hands in the air.
“You’re just bitter because I’ve been spending time with Taylor.”
“Don’t talk to me you fucking homo.”
“Asshole.”
“Queer.”
“Both of you, shut the fuck up.” My father rubbed his temples, looking as if he was going to explode any second. “Taylor, what do you have to say about all of this?”
“I.” His face was hidden behind the curtain of his whitish hair as he wrung his hands in his lap. Just lie, I tried to plead with him telepathically, just lie. Fuck Taylor, just lie.
“Yeah, it’s true.”
FUCK. Fuck fuck fuck.