Men of London 02 - Sight and Sinners by Susan Mac Nicol

going to happen to me.” He winked at Taylor. “Keep that thought about the proper sex bit. I’ll hold you to that later.”
    He felt Taylor’s eyes on him as he walked up the stairs to the bathroom, and for once in his life, he prayed to whatever entities resided above and below that he could keep that promise.

 
    Chapter 7
     
    Taylor had no idea how he made it through the next few weeks without physically combusting. The spark that had ignited between him and Draven had become a raging furnace and neither of them seemed able to keep their hands off one another. He had no idea what this thing between them was. Taylor was disparaging of the whole “love at first sight” thing but he had to admit he hadn’t felt this strongly before about a man who, in truth, he barely knew.
    Taylor had been relieved that whatever the vision was that he’d had that night he’d first slept with Draven hadn’t come to anything. He still heard the voice sometimes, soft yet yearning, but he’d learned to simply accept it as he did with others. It was more difficult to do, though. The faux Draven (because if he imagined it to be the real one he’d go bat-shit crazy) had felt helpless, and the yearning to be somewhere else had been all-encompassing.
    Their days consisted of each of them at their respective jobs, keeping in touch with texts and quick phone calls. The nights—they were what held Taylor together. Long, passionate evenings into the early mornings, volatile sex and steamy shower sessions that left them both spent and exhausted. Most of the time they spent at Draven’s house, as it was more private than having Leslie coming home, sometimes with a friend of his own. Taylor was feeling a little guilty about neglecting his friend.
    Now, on one of his rare days off, he got up around eleven a.m. and stumbled tiredly into the small shower. After drying himself, he put on old tracksuit pants and a tee shirt that he grabbed from the wash hamper. It was close to one p.m. when, after checking his texts and emails—Leslie had texted him earlier from work saying he was staying the night at a friend’s—and fixing himself a snack of peanut butter and jam sandwiches, he was seated comfortably in the old armchair with the remote, selecting a Netflix film called Going Down in La-La Land . He thought it sounded good enough to keep him occupied, and perhaps he might even engage in a little under-the-cover action later to relieve the permanent sexual tension he had.
    Taylor woke up hours later, dry mouthed and needing to pee. He struggled out of the chair, wincing at the tired muscles and dried come on his stomach and took his trip to the bathroom. He rinsed his mouth out with breath freshener, cleaned himself up and loped tiredly back into the lounge. The afternoon sun shone in through grimy windows and Taylor thought not for the first time that he really needed to get around to cleaning them sometime.
    After pottering around and doing some much needed housework he settled in to watch some television, glancing at his watch and wondering when Draven might call. It was close to eight-thirty p.m. when his mobile finally rang. His stomach dipped at the thought it was Draven. It wasn’t him on the phone but he smiled when he saw who it was.
    “Eddie, my man. What’s up?” If he hadn’t had the caller ID he’d still know who it was from the sounds of the kitchen in the background. Men’s voices, the clutter of utensils and whir of whatever culinary machines made those sort of noises. Taylor wasn’t big on the whole cooking thing.
    “I should be asking you the same question.” Eddie laughed. “How are things going with Mr. Blond and Grouchy? Are you still getting laid regularly?
    Taylor smiled. “I can’t keep up with him; the man is insatiable. But I’m enjoying his company.” He wandered into the kitchen and took out a beer, uncapping it and taking a deep drink.
    “Is he still being so bloody secretive about where he goes when