Fan Fiction - Hanson, Krasobruslení - This Glassy Surface

One More (01/11)
~by Estriel~

One more for the night
One more for the pain and
One more, long goodbye
~ Hanson: One More ~


Taylor has promised to himself not to be unfaithful to his wife more than once a year. If it's just once a year, he figures, it's harmless and understandable. He suspects that Natalie would disagree and thus decides not to share his view of this particular issue with her.

Taylor's rule proves to be useful in another way as well, especially once his annual one-night-stands begin to feature men rather than women – once a year doesn't make you gay, Taylor assures himself, once a year just makes you adventurous and open-minded. With that settled, Taylor can go pick a new attractive stranger every year or so and spend one sinful, blissful night with him.

He met Johnny at about the right time last year, 11 months after his previous one-time lover. Johnny was the most unique of Taylor's random fucks – if only because he didn't pick him up at a club or in a bar like all the men that came before him. They met in a doctor's waiting room. Taylor was there to have the doc look at the "cold" that later led to surgery on his vocal chords. Johnny – Taylor found out as they chatted during the wait – needed to get rid of a never-ending sore throat, a result of a series of flus and a case of mono he'd ignored and hadn't gotten treated for.

It surprised Taylor, later that day, after a cup of coffee Johnny had invited him to, when he undressed Johnny in his bedroom, that his body did not resemble that of someone who gets ill often. Taylor had slept with many people, but never someone quite like Johnny – zero body fat, all perfect lean muscle. He took his time to explore Johnny's body, relishing the little moans and gasps that came out of his mouth in response to his ministrations. The fact that Taylor asked for his phone number before they parted made Johnny even more unique than the circumstances under which Taylor met him.

Taylor's not quite sure if sleeping with the same person again – even with a nearly 12-month gap inbetween – would break his rule. Nevertheless, he deliberately seeks Johnny out this summer; he even buys a ticket for Champions on Ice and watches the entire show, focused on the display of grace and beauty down on the ice rather than the accusatory voice inside him that tells him that this is not good-husband behavior.

This time, when they make love in Johnny's hotel room, Johnny's body feels familiar under Taylor's touch, but still different, like a return to a place he's been to before but that has changed since his last visit. Last year, Johnny was petite, muscled but skinny, a boy Taylor thought he could pick up and carry as easily as he carried Natalie on their wedding day. Now there's an added strength to his shoulders and abs, the muscles on those fabulous thighs even firmer and more distinct. Taylor muses that, from now on, he should only fuck skaters – the thighs are to die for. Or only fuck Johnny – he squishes the treacherous idea; not good, not good.

He runs his hands down the length of Johnny's legs and catches his right foot in his hands before Johnny can jerk it away. Last year, Taylor remembers, Johnny hid his feet under the blanket, the sudden embarrassed blush in stark contrast to the mostly shameless demeanor he displayed in bed.

"They're ugly," he said and insisted on not showing them to Taylor for the rest of the night.
This time, Taylor pulls his foot into his lap and starts to rub it, smiling at the whimper of oh my god, that feels so good.
"But they're still not pretty," Johnny mumbles between happy sighs. "Twenty-five hours a week in skating boots..."
Taylor doesn't care; a few blisters, bruises and a band-aided finger or two don't scare him away, especially not when the results are so rewarding – the footrub makes Johnny practically melt in his arms.

Another thing has changed since their last time, Taylor observes – a year ago, Johnny wore a ring on his pinkie finger, not quite like Taylor's wedding band, but definitely the type of ring to have a meaning.
"Your ring is gone," Taylor says and lifts Johnny's hand into the air above them to study it.
They're lying in bed now, both still a bit light-headed after the intense rush of sex.

"Yours is not," Johnny responds and Taylor sees him quirk an eyebrow and smirk.

"Well, it's a little complicated," he sighs. Complicated – the word makes him cringe and feel guilty almost instantly; calling his three wonderful children a complication is not right. The stale taste his marriage leaves him with is one thing; his children, however, are a whole different matter. He loves them, more than he ever imagined he'd love anyone.

"I should get going," he says abruptly and sits up, then dresses hastily.

"So, I'll see you next year?" Johnny's voice rings with amusement, but when Taylor turns around, he notices a look in his eyes that tells him that he actually means it, that he's genuinely wondering if he'll see him again.

"Maybe," Taylor smiles softly and can't resist the urge to kiss Johnny once more before he leaves. There is a sweetness to the kiss, a promise almost, and for a second Taylor wishes that this could be his daily ritual rather than diapers and children's games. He parts from Johnny's lips and looks at his face; the shining eyes and the tease of a smile so tempting that Taylor feels a reckless stir flash through him, a fleeting image of things he'll never have. Then Johnny's phone starts ringing and the moment is gone; Taylor waves a quick goodbye while Johnny is already rambling into his cell, talking of lutzes and quads and other things Taylor knows nothing about.

This is not my world, he realizes with a last glance at Johnny's perfect shape and only the slightest tinge of regret. Then he walks out of the apartment, heading home to the things he committed himself to.


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