Taylor Tuesday

Handsome guy lying on the field. Young man enjoying nature
Here’s chapter eight! Enjoy! 😀

Please note that this story is copyrighted and no part of Dirty Mess may be copied without my permission. It’s also unedited work.


Dirty Mess
Chapter Eight

Taylor redressed after the scene. A group of crew members were waiting for him, including Rip and Georgey, when he walked around of the dressing room. The director laid a hand on his back and guided him toward the exit of the warehouse. They headed down the street, with Rip hanging out with a couple of guys behind him. He resisted the urge to glance around at the other man. He had to remind himself that Rip was only doing this to gain more subscribers. He couldn’t believe that he thought something was there. He was such an idiot.

Georgey led him to some quaint little bar a couple streets over. It looked like a small little cabin from the outside, with wooden panels and a hanging wooden sign that with the words, ‘Mel’s Bar’ carved into it. But even though it looked small on the outside, it was definitely bigger on the inside, which was a good thing because it was packed with all kinds of men and women. The noise was an explosion to his ears, with a mixture of loud voices and the pounding beat of old rock songs.

It was as cute on the inside as it was on the outside with wood being the theme of the bar. Georgey led him over to the corner where a bunch of guys were huddled together on a couple of different tables.

He let the director push him toward an empty seat, which happened to be on the other end of the table that Rip sat at. He smiled at a couple of the men beside him, and sighed in relief to see Isaac sitting a few seats down. He winked at Taylor.

“You’re Taylor, right?” A particularly handsome redhead who sat beside him held out his hand. “I’m Topher.”

Taylor shook his hand with a smile. “Lovely to meet you. You’re one of the Messy Boys?”

Topher grinned. “Sure am. Been a Messy Boy for three years.”

“He’s the next biggest Messy Boy whore after Ripley,” said the dark-haired guy next to Topher. He held out his hand to Taylor as well and he shook it out of curtesy. He didn’t like what this guy had said about Rip. It wasn’t like he fucked the guys he filmed with.

The guy’s dark brows rose. “You didn’t like me saying that, huh? I’m Tee. Spelled T-E-E.”

“No, I don’t really appreciate you saying that about my boyfriend.”

Taylor saw Isaac frown at him from the corner of his eye, but he ignored his roommate, hoping he’d catch on.

“You know, I thought it was all a ploy to get more subscribers. Rip isn’t the kind of guy to settle down.” Tee said it so smugly that Taylor wondered if Tate would frown upon him punching him. Maybe it was the jealousy monster rearing its ugly head again, and that thought was the only thing that stopped him from throwing any punches.

“Rip and I are together,” Taylor snapped. He didn’t have to fake his annoyance. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

The guilt of lying was there, a small thread of worry winding into a ball in his stomach. These men didn’t deserve Taylor lying to them, but Rip had asked it of him, right? He understood the reasoning why. The less people who knew, the less likely the truth would get out.

Topher jabbed Tee with his elbow. “Leave him alone. Rip is allowed to be in a relationship.”

Taylor glanced at Isaac while Tee and Topher bickered at each other. Isaac wasn’t frowning at him anymore, but he didn’t look entirely pleased either. His lips pursed at Taylor and Taylor couldn’t do anything but shrug in response. He’d explain it to his roommate later.

“Hey babe.” Rip sidled up beside him and pressed a short, sweet kiss on his lips. “Want me to get you a drink?”

Taylor blinked up at him and forced himself to smile. “Sure, hun. How about you buy me a Budweiser?”

“A bud, really?” Tee snorted.

Rip glanced at him with narrowed eyes. “Got a problem, Tee Dog?”

Taylor snorted. Tee Dog sounded like a nickname for a chubby biker who started fights but never finished them.

Tee glared at him. “Yeah, I got a problem. When are you two going to stop pretending this is a thing?” He waved his hand between them.

Rip shrugged. “You can believe what you want, but Taylor and I are together.”

“Then shouldn’t you know what he wants to drink?” Tee smirked at Rip smugly.

Topher rolled his eyes and sent Taylor an apologetic smile, but Taylor didn’t see what he had to apologize for. Tee acted like he had a chip on his shoulder and he wondered if the other guy had a thing for Rip. Not that he blamed him. Rip was fucking gorgeous.

Rip shrugged and answered with ease, “he changes it up every so often. Likes to try different things.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie. Taylor wasn’t a big beer drinker, and when he did drink, he liked diversity. He smiled up at Rip and ran his palm along his arm. “You know me so well.”

Tee held out his hands and stared pointedly at the men surrounding them. “Are you fucking kidding me? You can’t tell me you fuckers believe this shit.” He gestured toward Rip and Taylor. “This is bullshit.”

“Why is it bullshit?” Isaac fell back against his chair and crossed his arms. He stared at Tee, his lips twisted. “It’s none of your business who they fuck, Tee.”

Topher rolled his eyes and held out his fist to Rip. Rip bumped it with his own. “I’m happy for you guys.”

“Thanks, Topher.” Rip winked at him. “I’ll be right back.”

He headed toward the bar, leaving Taylor behind to be glared at by Tee. He didn’t let it bother him though. It wasn’t the likes of Tee that made him feel guilty for lying, but rather it hurt to feel the betrayal in Isaac’s eyes. They may not had been close through their year at college, but they were still friends.

Rum stumbled over to them, his white teeth flashing at Taylor as he drew closer. “Your scene with Rip was hot, dude.”

Taylor grinned in return, a bubble of pride swelling in his chest. While it still terrified him to have been so close to Rip, to have felt what he did for the other man, he was proud of the scene. He’d sat at the computer and re-watched it, and he saw why it was so popular. Rip and he were beautiful together—two men who were enraptured with each other. Even he couldn’t believe how in love they looked as they melded against each other.

Tee muttered something that Taylor was sure he didn’t want to hear and slipped off his seat, striding away from them. Rum frowned after him, but shrugged and stole his stool.

“What’s up his ass?” He asked.

“He doesn’t believe Rip and Taylor are actually dating.” Topher cocked his head toward Rum. “He’s throwing a temper tantrum.”

“You know what that guy needs? A spanking.” Rum chuckled at his own joke.

“You could always give him one,” Topher replied.

Taylor noted the glare Isaac sent Topher and Rum. His roommate took a large guzzle of his beer and slumped against the table. Taylor laid a hand on Isaac’s shoulder, but was surprised when he shrugged it off.

“I should head out,” Isaac grumbled as he stumbled off the stool. He grabbed his jacket and slipped it on, heading toward the exit.

Taylor didn’t hesitate in following Isaac. He grabbed his arm to stop him. “Isaac, wait.”

Isaac’s eyes narrowed on the hand holding his arm. “What do you want?”

“Are you angry at me? For the whole Rip thing?”

Isaac rolled his eyes and leaned closer. His breath stunk of alcohol. “Not everything is about you, rich boy.”

“You seem pissed at me.” Taylor frowned.

“Why are you lying to everyone anyway?”

“Rip thinks that the less people who know, the better. That the truth won’t get out.”

“So you guys decide to lie to your co-workers?” He shook his head. “If I didn’t already know that this thing is fake, you would have lied to me too, right?”

Taylor couldn’t deny it and he nodded.

Isaac snorted and ripped his arm from Taylor’s grasp. “Whatever, bro.” He glared over Taylor’s shoulder and Taylor followed his gaze to Tee. The other man was clearly flirting with the bartender, his fingers grazing over the staff members’s arm as he leaned over the bar, his ass stuck up in the air.

Realization dawned on Taylor. “Is there something going on between you and Tee?”

Isaac’s gaze snapped back to him. The glare had disappeared, and wide eyes met his. “No.” It was said so quickly that it was hard for Taylor to believe.

He smiled softly, cupping Isaac’s shoulder. “You know I’m here if you want to talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about, bro.” Isaac shrugged off his hold again. “I’ve got to go.”

His roommate left, and Taylor couldn’t do anything but watch him leave. He knew when Isaac needed time alone and it seemed like one of those moments.

Rip edged up beside him and handed him his beer. “Is everything okay?”

Taylor pursed his lips and nodded. “I don’t like lying to these guys,” he whispered.

Rip glanced at the group and sighed. “It has to be done. The less people who know—”

“I know.” Taylor exhaled. “I know.”

Rip’s arm curled around his waist and he guided him back toward the table. He was close enough that Taylor could smell his masculine scent and the heady smell reminded him of what they’d done an hour or so prior. He’d had his nose against Rip’s cock, his mouth inches away from sucking on his balls through thin material. And damn it, he’d wanted to so badly. He wanted to pull those underwear down and take Rip’s cock between his lips. The only thing that stopped him was the reminder that they weren’t alone, that they had a crew of at least ten watching them.

Taylor flushed at the memory. He‘d never been a voyeuristic person, never enjoyed being watched, but there was something sexy about knowing these people were watching him and Rip, knowing that it was him nuzzling Rip’s cock, not them. And it made him feel dirty, maybe even a bit of a pervert.

“Why are you blushing?” Rip’s hot breath caressed his ear.

“I’m not,” Taylor protested weakly. His fingers curled in Rip’s shirt, tugging slightly. If Rip wanted to act like a real couple, then maybe they could give the guys a show, including Tee. He dragged the other man closer and smashed his lips against Rip’s. The kiss was passionate, not soft like he was aiming for, and Rip’s tongue ran along his lips. Taylor allowed it access and they fought for dominance. Rip won by pushing him against the jukebox, his back flushed against the curve of the machine as Rip devoured his mouth like a starving man. He tasted like beer and French fries and Ripley and he tasted amazing. He wanted him so badly.

The only thing that made them break away from each other was the round of cheers from their co-workers.

Taylor flushed, but Rip took it in his stride. He threw a smirk at his friends and tugged Taylor toward the table.

“Don’t stop on our account,” Rum shouted, earning a bunch of laughs from the other guys.

Rip rolled his eyes and fell into the seat Taylor had vacated before. He dragged Taylor to sit on his lap, his ass sat flushed against Rip’s crotch, and he immediately felt the other man’s interest. He knew he should have found his own seat, but he decided to say fuck it and tease Rip a little. He wiggled his ass, pretending to get comfortable, but it did nothing but excite the man beneath him even more.

“We’re not stopping on your account. I don’t want you bastards to put it on social media,” Rip said, before he hissed in Taylor’s ear. The small exhale of breath and hardening cock beneath his ass told Taylor what he needed to know. Rip was interested, all right.

“Too late,” Rum sneered, flashing them his phone. On it was a picture of them making out against the jukebox and it had been posted on Rum’s twitter account. It was already gaining interest, with twenty comments from Rum’s fans.

Rip snorted against Taylor’s shoulder. “What are they saying?”

Rum waggled his eyebrows. “They want more. They’re already asking when your next scene is.”

“We filmed it today.” Taylor rested his back against Rip’s chest and was surprised when arms wrapped around his waist, hugging him closer. Rip’s warmth radiated against him and it was all he could do not to close his eyes and hum in pleasure.

“Already? Darn. Dirty Mess sure is profiting off you guys,” Topher commented. He eyed them carefully, but there was no malice in his gaze.

“Whoever the boss is, he is a smart man.” Rum shrugged and tapped on his phone, most likely replying to some of the fans.

“Does no one know who owns the company?” Taylor was genuinely curious. The only boss he knew so far was Tate and it was clear that he wasn’t the owner.

He felt Rip stiffen under him and Taylor sent him a frown. It earned him a shrug in answer.

“I don’t think anyone but Tate does to be honest.” Rum swirled the drink in his tumbler, watching it swish against the glass. It was almost symbolic that he was drinking rum.

“Why is it a big secret?”

Rum snorted. “Who knows.”

“Does it really matter how the boss is?” Rip reached forward to grab his drink off the table. Taylor seized it for him and passed it to him so he didn’t jolt them too much, and Rip winked at him. “He pays us on time, so why does it matter?”

“He’s probably a dirty old man who gets off to the scenes.” Rum snickered and held out his glass to Topher.

Topher clinked their glasses together, but rolled his eyes. “I agree with Ripley. It doesn’t really matter anyway. We do our scenes, get paid on time. Nothing to complain about.”

Rip dumped his glass back on the table and poked Taylor in the side, urging him to stand. Rip stood and grabbed Taylor’s drink out of his hands and threw it on the table next to his.

“Let’s dance,” he said.

Taylor’s eyes widened. “I don’t dance.”

Rip’s brow rose. “You’re a theatre major. Don’t stage actors do a lot of dancing?”

“Not really—”

But Rip didn’t let him finish. He dragged him onto a small dance floor in front of the live band. He wrapped his arms around Taylor’s waist and dragged him closer until their bodies were flushed together. The song wasn’t slow, but Rip didn’t seem to care about that as he pressed his forehead against Taylor’s and slowly swayed to the hard, rock beat.

Taylor decided not to comment on it though. He didn’t know Rip for long, but he could tell when something rankled someone, and it was one of those moments. Rip was too tense, too tight in his shoulders, and Taylor chose to just go with it. He curled his arms around the other man’s neck and settled his face against his jaw. The closeness appeared to help because Rip’s shoulders relaxed, and he took a long, calming breath.

Taylor didn’t ask if he was all right. He knew from his own circumstances that if he wanted to talk about it, he would. He wasn’t going to push Rip, so he closed his eyes and swayed to the music with the other man.

The band must have sympathized with them because once the rock beat was finished, they played a slower song that matched Taylor and Rip’s sluggish dance.

Rip’s fingers dipped beneath his shirt and caressed the bare skin on his lower back. It felt good—a soft, affectionate graze that made his heart beat a little faster. Without even realizing what he was doing, Taylor laid a gentle kiss on Rip’s jaw, then another one on his neck, causing Rip to inhale sharply.

They felt good against each other, as though they were two jigsaw pieces that fit perfectly, and Taylor didn’t want this moment to end. It was exhilarating and endearing and scary as fuck because he shouldn’t feel this way about Rip. It wasn’t going to end well.

“You feel good against me,” Rip whispered, and Taylor wasn’t sure who was more surprised by the words, him or Rip.

Taylor cocked his head so he could stare into his eyes, and smiled. “You smell nice.”

It was as though he had to respond to the compliment with another one and he felt like an idiot. He flushed and ducked his head against Rip’s jaw again. Christ. He sounded like a lovesick fool. But he wasn’t in love because he barely knew Rip. Sure, he knew Ripley Reed, the famous Dirty Mess model, but not the real man behind the facade.

Taylor sighed and attempted to pull away, but Rip held him in place, his arms tightening around Taylor’s back. “You don’t have to go.”

“Rip…” Taylor shook his head. “I don’t know what the hell is happening here—”

“Me either, but it’s okay. We’ll figure it out.”

There wasn’t any of the usual confidence in Rip’s voice this time, but rather, he sounded like a confused little boy. Unsure and alone, and Taylor sympathized with him. He understood that feeling well.

“Come on, let’s go get another drink.” Taylor had to tear himself from Rip’s hold. Not because Rip didn’t let him go, but because he didn’t want to leave the other man’s warmth. He liked being in Rip’s arms far too much.

 

Two hours later, Rip was slurring over his beer and laughing loud enough to drown out other people’s conversations. He kept pushing one after another beer at Taylor, but each time, Taylor pushed it to the side with the collection of other full beer bottles. He wasn’t a huge drinker and Rip was drinking enough for the both of them. While some of the guys thought Rip was hilarious, clearly never seeing him this drunk before, Taylor knew he’d had enough.

“Georgey, I’m going to take Ripley home.”

The director winked at him. “Good idea, boy.”

Tee, who was chatting to another guy nearby, snorted. “Do you know where he lives, poser?”

Taylor flipped him the finger and grabbed Rip by the arm as he went to prance off the dance floor. “Come on, hun.”

Rip crowed in excitement and threw his weight at Taylor, nearly causing them to topple over. Rip’s muscle made him heavier than Taylor expected, but he managed to save them before they crashed to the floor.

Taylor rolled his eyes and yanked himself out of Rip’s hold. “Come on, big guy. Let’s get you home.”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t,” Tee said, “Oh wait. You won’t because you’re a virgin, aren’t you?”

Taylor felt the urge to flip him off again, but he chose to ignore him instead. There was too much alcohol flowing at this get-together and he didn’t want to do something he’d regret, not when he needed this job.

Rip went to grab his half drunken beer bottle, but Taylor snatched his hand away from it, dragging him out of the bar. He ignored Rip’s protests about wasting alcohol as they exited into the cool night.

The cold air whipped against his hot face and Taylor closed his eyes briefly, revelling in the freshness. It was getting too chaotic inside and he wasn’t a huge fan of crowds of people pressing in on each other like a herd of cows.

“You okay?”

Rip’s voice made Taylor startle. He almost forgot that he had the other man’s comfortable weight pressed against his side. He smiled at him.

“Yeah. I’m not a huge fan of crowds.”

“Me either.”

Taylor raised an eyebrow. He doubted that. Rip worked the crowds like a professional.

Rip laughed. “It’s true. I’d rather sit on my own in front of the T.V. any day.”

He pushed away from Taylor and went to take a step, but stumbled. Taylor was there to catch him.

“You’re drunk.” Taylor ignored at mumbled protests and led Rip in the direction of the studio. They walked in silence, the rumbling sounds of cars around the city enveloping the quiet night. The stars weren’t out tonight, but Taylor couldn’t remember the last time he had a good sight of them. Living in a city of millions of people meant a contaminating smog consumed the sky and left it with a thick cloud of pollution.

Rip grabbed his key when they reached the studio and it took him a couple of minutes to get it unlocked. He stumbled into the warehouse and laughed.

Taylor shook his head, but made sure to lock the door behind them. He followed Rip’s uncoordinated movements up the stairs and into the loft. The beer bottles Rip had earlier that day were still sitting on the coffee table and Rip headed toward them. He grabbed one of the bottles and brought it to his lips. Taylor watched in amusement as he tapped on the empty bottle and peered into the glass, before dropping it onto the table again.

“It’s empty.” Rip’s lips twisted in dissatisfaction.

Taylor snorted and grabbed his upper arm. The muscle flexed beneath his fingers as Taylor led him toward one of the two doors in the loft. One of them had to be Rip’s bedroom.

“Come on, you’ve had too much to drink tonight.”

“No such thing as too much to drink.” He didn’t fight against Taylor’s hold though.

Taylor opened one of the doors and internally cheered at himself when he realized it was the bedroom. He guided Rip into the room and let the other man fall on his ass onto the bed. It was king sized and appeared too big, too luxurious, for the otherwise small, beige room. The only other piece of furniture that could fit was a small, compact dresser that left much to be desired. None the less, it felt homely, well-lived in and Taylor liked that.

Rip raised his foot toward Taylor, a smug grin on his handsome face.

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you serious?”

“I can’t do it myself.” Rip smirked. “Too drunk.”

Taylor bit back a laugh and shook his head. He gripped one of Rip’s tennis shoes and tugged it off, throwing it across the room. The other followed and once his socks were off as well, Rip collapsed on the mattress. He wasn’t on it correctly though and Taylor knew he couldn’t leave Rip lying half off the bed.

Taylor patted him on the thigh. “Move up.”

Rip blinked blearily at him and his lips twisted into a smirk that Taylor had seen plenty of times over the last few days. “Want to have sex?”

Rip ran a hand down his stomach and toward his waistband, but Taylor clasped it to stop it from going further south.

“You’re drunk.” Taylor stared at him with a deadpanned look.

“Not that drunk.”

“Drunk enough that you couldn’t take your own shoes off.” He shook his head. “Come on, Rip, shift up.”

Rip grumbled but shuffled further up the bed until his entire body lay on the king mattress. “Come and lay with me?”

“Rip, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Because I’m drunk?”

Taylor sighed. There was so much more to it and he didn’t think he knew Ripley well enough to have that sort of discussion, and Rip was too drunk to remember it the next morning anyway. “Because you’re my co-worker.”

“I’m more than that.” Rip raised himself on his elbow. “Want to know a secret?”

Taylor pressed a hand against his chest and pushed him back down on the bed. “No, because you’ll regret it in the morning. Go to sleep, Rip.”

Before he could walk away, Rip grabbed his hand and tugged him with more force than a drunk man should have had. Taylor stumbled onto the bed, his body and face pressed against Rip’s warmth. His face fell into the curve of his neck, the musky scent of Rip’s skin seeping into his nose and filling up his nostrils. He smelled so good and Taylor’s cock twitched in his underwear.

Rip hummed against his cheek. “You feel nice.”

Heat rose in Taylor’s cheeks and he placed a hand over Rip’s heart, pushing at his chest to put some distance between them. Rip didn’t let him go far though, because he curled an arm around Taylor’s shoulders and kept him close.

Taylor stilled, waiting to see what would happen next, but he relaxed when Rip’s soft, even snores met his ears. He should have moved away then, but instead he shifted into a comfortable position.

He kicked off his shoes and nudged them off the bed, then shrugged off his jacket, all the while trying not to jolt Rip awake. Not that he could because alcohol had consumed his sleep, hypnotised his brain in intoxicated dreams.

Taylor took the rare moment to stare at Ripley, to map out his facial features now that he was close enough to do so. While his face was proportionally perfect, for the first time, Taylor saw the flaws that made him human. Like the small, faint scar beneath his eye. From afar, it was invisible, melding into his skin like it was there from the beginning, but now Taylor was inches away from him, he saw it as clear as day. The cicatrix was discolored, lighter than his natural tan, and was a raised and puckered line of skin, short and thin and healed over. It promised a story that Taylor found himself wanting to know.

Below that, on his high cheekbones, lay a splatter of light freckles. Like the scar, there were barely visible, but they added a uniqueness to his otherwise handsome face. The stubble on his jaw was neatly trimmed, but there was a tiny patch of missing hair on the right side of his chin. It looked as if there had been another scar there that stopped the growth in that area. With each new and interesting thing Taylor saw, Ripley grew more interesting.

Taylor’s fingers grazed along Rip’s jaw, a light touch that had Rip mumbling in his sleep and shifting closer to his hand. It caused a smile to curve on his lips. There was a past behind the mask Ripley Reed wore and Taylor wanted to know what it was. He wanted to understand Rip, to meet the real man, and for once, he wasn’t terrified at the thought.

With that thought, Taylor rested against the bed and let sleep embrace him as Rip’s warmth comforted him.


 

Disclaimer: No part of this blog story may be copied or used in any way without my permission. This work is copyrighted to Meg Bawden. Photos are purchased from DepositPhotos. They may not be saved from this blog and used elsewhere, as it is illegal. Cover created by Cover Couture. Thank you.

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