The Pretender

Dave was blind in his dream.

He could see nothing but blackness, but he could feel and hear some things. He remembers the sensation of his feet dragging across the hardwood floor. He remembers hearing Taylor's voice say, "Oh God, how did you do this? It's fucking Dave Grohl. Oh thank you, thank you," and then the sensation of Taylor hugging him around the chest, lingering to cuddle for a time period Dave could not have measured. He floated for a while in a field of warmth. Soothing, black, and warm. Soothing, black, and warm. Eventually, the solitude was interrupted by new sensations, feelings that were pleasurable. Fingers stroking his balls, moving to circle his cock, get it hard. Dave wanted to touch this person back, run his fingers through their hair as they ran a tongue around the head of his dick, but he couldn't raise his arm, it was too heavy. Somewhere, a chain rattled. A warm, wet cavern took his cock in and sucked it. Mmmnnnn, it felt good. This felt different, far more insistent and aggressive than when Jordyn sucked him off. Harder, stronger. This was a man giving him head, wasn't it? Oh shit... so good.

It was Taylor. Somehow he knew, it was Taylor.

Dave strained to move, to arch into it, to stroke Taylor anywhere he could reach, but again, his body felt too heavy. It was simply not possible to move; his muscles wouldn't respond. Dave heard himself make a small, brief moaning sound - it was all he could manage - and Taylor answered with a muffled moan of his own, one much longer and pronounced than the one Dave had made. Oh, he sounded so sweet. Dave had wanted this for so long, he wanted to participate more, why couldn't he see? Frustrating.

An orgasm rippled through his whole body. Dave felt it as waves of pleasure and waves of that soothing blackness. Another small sound escaped him. Then it was back to the field where he floated on a warm mist, the sound of Taylor panting following him down. "I love you so much," Taylor said from a faraway tunnel. These sounds and sensations faded away.

The next feeling he became conscious of was an achy pain in his shoulders. Dave raised his head very slowly; it felt heavy. Even his eyelids resisted movement. He felt groggy and slow to react. This feeling reminded him of how he felt after surgery.

Like he was waking from a deep, induced sleep.

Dave's eyes came open and he saw he was lying on the suede chaise lounge in the art room. He and Jordyn had outfitted the room with a few pieces of furniture and a modest flat screen TV so people could sit and look at their collection as well as watch the occasional movie the couple found too good not to share. It was a room for their more business-related parties, although a great deal of the time everyone wound up in the backyard with the grill and a lot of beer, telling stories. Dave did love to grill.

The chaise had been chosen based on how nice suede felt and that it was long enough to accommodate Dave's tall frame. The part under his knees was slightly raised; he had always liked that because it was comfortable. Being a simple chaise lounge, there was a back but no arms, so Dave's arms and hands had always wound up hanging off the sides, fingers fumbling around with any part of the undercarriage of the chaise they could reach. Long ago, he had torn a hole in the interfacing and found a steel bar that was part of the chaise's frame that was fun to thump with his nails; it made a nice sound. Jordyn had freaked when she found that hole - he insisted one of the kids must've done it. Dave realized he could feel that steel bar now with the tips of his fingers when he wiggled them. His arms had been hanging off the sides too long, and that's why his shoulders hurt.

When he moved to flex and stretch the soreness out of his arms, a chain rattled. Dave yanked hard, only to find that his wrists were shackled to the bar with what felt like handcuffs with a longer than normal chain. His eyes widened. "What the fuck?" he said out loud. His speech was still a little slurred.

Dave remembered drinking a lot of wine. How long ago had that been? He looked down at himself. His tattoos stood out plainly as someone had removed his shirt. His pants were gone too, showing off just boxers. Frustrated and confused, Dave pulled on the handcuffs, shifting them around, trying to twist his hands to just the right angle to slip his wrists out, but none of it worked. He was pretty sure the handcuff chain had been wrapped around the steel bar to make it impossible for him to shimmy himself off the chaise. What. The. Fuck?

Dave looked around the room. On the opposite wall was the faithful old couch, a light brown comfy-as-shit pile of softness that was great for naps. Next to one side of it was the statue, The Conduit. As his eyes passed around the room, Dave took in the various paintings on the wall, the mirror (called Enchanted Reflections) hung across a corner, the brightly-painted wooden carousel horse that the girls loved so much, the end table next to him, the fireplace with flat screen TV hung above it, a long table with another mirror hung above it and, usually, valuable ceramics placed upon it, and two comfy, padded rolling chairs for additional party seating. Only, the table had been cleared off and pulled out from the wall, the vases and small statues lined up against it, so he and Taylor could use the table for their "séance."

Taylor. Where was Taylor? Was he okay?

Bolted into the wall around most of the room was a horizontal metal bar, one that told anyone looking at the paintings to keep a polite distance, don't touch. This had been installed mostly for the benefit of the children when they were allowed in this room, and worked pretty well; they were told to stand at least as far from the wall as the bar was and not to put their hands beyond it, and they would be allowed to touch and sit on the carousel horse as a reward. Yes, it worked pretty well.

Someone, though, didn't respect those boundaries, as evidenced by the thick yellow rope loosely wrapped around the bar now. It appeared as though someone had considered using the bar to tie someone down on the couch and had abandoned that idea, leaving the rope discarded there. A room usually comfortable and familiar to him, Dave now found it veiled in shadow, only a small nightlight left burning near the stairs that lead up to the rest of the house. Even the carousel horse gave him the side eye.

He wanted to panic while thinking this thing through. What did he remember? Dave remembered drinking too much and passing out very suddenly. He remembered Taylor crouching over him. He remembered having a dream that...

...that Taylor was giving him a blowjob. A very good, satisfying blowjob.

No. That couldn't have been real. Taylor would never do something like that. Dave wasn't really conscious at the time. That would be like rape.

So where was Taylor? What had happened to him?

Dave's frightened mind cooked up a horrible, panicked scenario that someone, or multiple someones, had broken into the house and subdued Taylor. They had cuffed Dave down to the chaise lounge while he was unconscious and had thought about tying Taylor to the bar, but then changed their minds. If they were the kind of people who got off on blowing an unconscious man, what were they now doing to Taylor somewhere else in the house?

Dave listened very carefully. He didn't hear anything out of the ordinary.

There wasn't anything else he could do. Dave began to yell for help. "Taylor! Taaaaylooooor! Where are you? Are you okay? Taylor answer me, please! TAAAAAYLOOOOOR!!"

For a few minutes, there was no response. Then he heard someone stirring in the house. Dave held his breath when this person started to walk down the stairs. He expected to see a large man, a monster, come down those stairs. But instead, he saw Taylor.

Taylor, slowly sauntering down each step, a big smirky grin on his lips. He was wearing the white silk pajamas Jordyn had given to Dave a few Christmases ago, the ones that rubbed against his dick too much and made him horny with the way they felt. They were too big for Taylor, as he was thinner than Dave, so they revealed more of his bare chest. Although he had a bit of bed hair, it was obvious Taylor had spent some time brushing it; it looked silkier than usual. Taylor leaned against the stair wall and crossed one bare foot over the other. "Hi," he said with a grin.

God, he looked good. Dave wanted to forget all the weirdness of this encounter and confess every salacious thought he'd ever had about Taylor so they maybe could make out right now. Instead, he asked, "Taylor, are you okay? What the hell's going on?"

Still grinning like he knew something, Taylor walked toward him, keeping one hand hidden behind his back. "I'm fine. You woke me up a little earlier than I thought you would, but that's alright. We need to talk anyway." He sat down on the side of the chaise lounge, pressed in close to Dave's side. "You need to pee?"

"Of course. Taylor, what the fuck are you doing? Uncuff me. Did you do this?! This isn't your kind of prank."

Taylor chuckled. "You really haven't figured it out yet?" He seemed to stuff something in the back of his waistband to free up both hands, then reached down under the chaise and took out a plastic urinal jug. A chill moved up Dave's back. Taylor had prepared for all this during the night? "I'll help you pee into this, and then we can talk. Do you have to take a dump too?"

Dave scoffed. "No."

"Well, that's to be expected. Okay, I hope my hands aren't cold." With little ado, Taylor took the cap off the jug, pulled down Dave's boxer shorts enough to take out his dick, and put it in the mouth of the jug. At first, Dave shuddered, but then he took advantage of the jug and relieved himself. Taylor did this very clinically and matter-of-fact, as if it was old hat. When Dave was done, Taylor screwed the cap on the jug and put it on the floor, then looked at Dave's dick, still exposed, considering what he could do next. Dave swallowed hard. Something was very wrong here. Then Taylor put him back in his underwear and looked at Dave with a smile.

He sighed. "Please, can you tell me what's going on? Taylor? Tee? My shoulders really hurt and I'd like to go to bed."

Taylor looked on him with a bit of sympathy. "I'm sorry it has to be this way for now, but you still don't understand what's happened. I can't risk how you might react. But, we can be friends in this, Dave. You'll get used to the changes eventually." He leaned to one side a little, letting the pajama top fall slightly off his shoulder. "Can we have a serious talk? Will you be completely honest with me?"

Taylor was being coquettish. It was crazy to think so, but could all this be about the nature of their relationship? With another sigh, Dave said, "Yeah."

"Do you have feelings for me? Romantic feelings?" Taylor looked at him through strands of his hair, grinning a little, kittenish.

Dave looked anywhere else, trying to decide if he should tell the truth. Years of denial and emotional pain welled up and he wanted to cry as he said, "Yes."

Smiling wider, Taylor replied, "I thought so. I've wondered about you for years. So are you bisexual?"

Dave felt naked in the doctor's office, waiting for a really painful test to be performed. "I guess there would have to be some tendencies there." He swallowed down his apprehension. "What about you? Do you... how do you..."

"How do I feel about you? Oh, Dave, do you really not know?" Leaning forward, taking his time, Taylor brushed his lips against the other man's, slowly. Dave shivered all over at the welcome, intimate contact. Was this really happening? Taylor pressed his mouth into Dave's, who kissed back, and they shared a long, passionate kiss. When it was broken, Dave couldn't help but let out a small moan.

Dave said out loud what he'd been thinking. "I can't believe this is happening."

"Me either. I've wondered about your sexuality since you were in Nirvana. There just seemed to be something going on there." He tilted his head again. "Tell me something, and please answer honestly."

Still flying and trying to quiet the butterflies inside, Dave said, "Okay." He didn't really want to talk, he wanted to kiss some more.

"Did anything ever happen between you and Kurt? Like, did the two of you ever..." Taylor waved his hand back and forth between his body and Dave's, implying a sexual relationship.

Dave's entire body went numb, feeling cold inside. The denial he'd been in since he woke up was completely shattered. He knew exactly what had happened. It all made sense now. Taylor would never ask him that question so casually. In fact, knowing how painful the subject was for Dave, Taylor would never ask him that question, period. "Could you turn on that light?" he asked, nodding his head toward the lamp on the side table.

Furrowing his brow, Taylor said, "Okay," and switched on the light.

Although he saw exactly what he'd expected to, Dave still gasped. Now that the light was no longer dim, he could see that Taylor's eyes were blue. Not the cobalt blue of Kurt's eyes, but an ordinary shade of medium blue. But Taylor's eyes weren't blue. They were hazel brown. Dave swallowed hard, trying not to panic. "You're not Taylor, are you?"

The stranger rolled his eyes and giggled. "Duh."