Taylor observed you from head to toe with an indifferent expression on his face as you stood outside his door, your eyes puffy and red from crying, drenched from the rain. Even you didn’t know why you’re here, but when you caught your boyfriend having sex with another girl less than 30 minutes ago, the only person you felt like you could go to was Taylor.

Taylor leaned on the door frame, his eyes still roaming your body. The silence was too loud and You felt like you were under a damn microscope. Maybe he was enjoying seeing you in pain, maybe he saw it as a little victory for himself. After a long and painful silence, he finally spoke.

"What's your deal?" his voice was gravelly and cold but not entirely dismissive.

Thoughts: Jesus fuck, they're going to catch a cold. And why did they think it was a good idea to drive here during a storm. What a dumbass.

A sardonic smirk played on his lips as he watched you waltz into his kitchen and begin to rifle through his cupboards, ignoring him completely. He appreciated your taste in booze, at least. Maybe if you were more focused on getting drunk than hurting others, he could stand being around you for a little longer.

"Over there," he drawled, jerking his head in the direction of the bookshelf beside the fridge. "But don't drink too much, you don't want to end up passed out on my couch." His voice was laced with an amused cruelty that sent a shiver down your spine, making you wonder how much he really did care about your current state of distress.

Taylor regarded you with narrowed eyes as he took the bottle of whiskey you offered. The amusement in his expression deepened at your boldness. Most people would never dream of offering him a drink, let alone handing it straight to him. He brought the bottle to his lips and took a long swallow, savoring the burn as it slid down his throat. "Thanks," he muttered, passing the bottle back to you.

He leaned against the kitchen counter, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "So what happened with your boyfriend? Was it just a stupid mistake or is there something else going on there?" His voice was soft but insistent, and his gaze bored into yours as if he could pry the truth out of you by sheer force of will.

You wondered for a moment why he cared so much. Maybe he was just being spiteful, enjoying seeing you in pain. Or perhaps there was something more to it than that. Whatever the reason, you decided not to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much his question had unsettled you. Instead, you took another swig from the bottle and set it down on the counter with a heavy thud.

Taylor snorted derisively as he took the second bottle of liquor you offered, downing it in a single swallow. "Gee, I'm so sorry your boyfriend wasn't enough to make you feel anything," he drawled sarcastically. "Maybe you should find someone who knows how to satisfy a woman." His voice dripped with venom as he looked at you.

"But then again, considering the fact that you were with him for a whole year..." He trailed off, shaking his head slowly. "I guess even an asshole like me could do better than that loser." It was a low blow, but it made you bristle nonetheless.

You didn't reply immediately; instead, you took another swig from the third bottle of liquor and winced at its harsh burn. Your cheeks flushed brightly as the alcohol began to spread warmth through your body. "I guess I deserve that," you muttered, staring down at the countertop. "He wasn't all bad... just most of him."

Silence settled between you like a heavy blanket, and Taylor was content to let it linger for a moment longer before speaking again. "So what are you going to do now?" he asked casually. "Go home? Change your number? Burn down his house with him inside?" There was an almost hungry quality to his voice as he listed off the options, and you couldn't help but wonder if perhaps he had been in a similar situation before himself.

Though part of you wanted to lash out at him for making light of your pain, another part was grateful for the distraction; the alcohol was starting to dull the ache in your heart, and his presence made it easier to forget, if only for a little while.

Taylor snorted derisively as he watched you drink yourself into oblivion. "Yeah, and that's supposed to be some sort of consolation?" He asked, an amused smirk playing on his lips. "You know he'll just use the money you gave him to find another girl to manipulate and hurt."

Something flickered in your eyes at that; a flash of vulnerability or maybe even sadness. But it was gone almost as soon as it had appeared, replaced by your usual mask of indifference. And for whatever reason, Taylor found himself wanting to see past that facade. He wanted to know what really lay beneath the surface; what made you tick and how you'd react if he ever pushed hard enough.

He took a step closer to you, resting his hands casually on your shoulders as he stared into your eyes. "So why did you come here anyway?" He asked quietly, his voice soft but insistent. "You could have gone anywhere else." There was an undercurrent of challenge in the question, almost like he was daring you to admit how much you really cared for him.

But if he expected you to crumble beneath his gaze or back down and admit your true feelings, he was sadly mistaken. You met his stare head-on with an unflinching determination that made his chest tighten in response.

Taylor narrowed his eyes at you, studying your face as if trying to gauge the truthfulness of your words. He knew that most people would never come to him for comfort or support, but something about this situation was different. There was a raw honesty in your expression that he hadn't expected to see, and it made him hesitate for just a moment before he responded.

"I suppose I wouldn't," he finally said, his voice rough with emotion. "But then again... you could have gone somewhere else." There was an unspoken challenge in those words, almost as if he were daring you to explain your actions further or defend yourself against the accusation of weakness that lingered beneath the surface.

A hot, burning sensation flared up in your chest at his words, and it took every ounce of willpower not to lash out at him in anger. Instead, you swallowed hard and met his gaze with a look of determination that bordered on defiance. There was something about Taylor's presence that unnerved you; he always seemed to know exactly how to push your buttons and make you feel things that were completely foreign to you.

The silence stretched between them, heavy and tense as the alcohol continued to fog your thoughts. And as much as it pained you to admit it even to yourself, a part of you couldn't help but wonder what would happen if you gave in just this once...if you let Taylor have control over the situation, however briefly. It was an absurd thought, one that made no sense given your history together and his cruel, emotionally abusive nature, but it persisted nonetheless.

Maybe because for once, he wasn't being completely dismissive or disinterested in your feelings...or maybe because deep down, you knew that this was exactly what Taylor

The words hang in the air between you like a physical thing, as if they have weight and substance. For once, there is no sarcasm or cruelty in Taylor's voice; just an almost... curiosity. He watches you carefully, searching for any signs of deception or weakness, but finds none. Instead, he sees something else entirely: determination. And something else, too. Something that makes his chest tighten and his heart race a little faster than usual.

Something tells him not to let this moment pass without at least exploring it further.

"Hmm," he drawls lazily, cocking his head to the side as he takes another step closer. "I don't know... maybe because you're hot when you're angry, or maybe because I'm a glutton for punishment." He leans in until their faces are mere inches apart, his breath caressing your cheek and sending shivers down your spine. "Or maybe... just maybe," he murmurs huskily, lowering his voice even further, "I like having you around." His lips brush against yours, so softly it's barely there at all; a featherlight touch that threatens to reduce you to a puddle of need right here on his kitchen floor.

It takes everything in you not to lean into the kiss, not to open your mouth and let him taste you fully. But even as your body craves the contact, some small part of you resists; perhaps it's because he's Taylor or maybe because deep down, you know that letting him get this close would only hurt more in the end.

Taylor's gaze flickers momentarily downward, taking in the way your lips part slightly and how you move closer still. "Yeah," he breathes out, his voice hoarse with desire, "we definitely have." He leans even further forward now, their faces almost touching. His fingers curl around the hem of your shirt, tugging it upward until he can feel the warmth of your skin beneath his fingertips.

His lips brush against yours once more, this time with just enough pressure to leave no doubt as to his intentions. He kisses you hungrily, his tongue pressing past your parted lips to explore your mouth, desperate for contact and reassurance that you want this as much as he does. His hand slides up your bare back, massaging the sensitive skin between your shoulder blades before tangling itself in your hair. He tugs gently, urging you closer still.

"Fuck," he groans against your lips, "you taste so good." Each word vibrates through you, sending shivers down your spine and making it impossible to focus on anything but the feel of his skin against yours, the way his tongue tangles with yours in a dance of pure lust. It feels like this moment has been building for weeks, months even; an irresistible force waiting patiently for the right conditions before exploding into life with a ferocity that takes both of you by surprise.

You want to tell him how much he turns you on, how it feels to have him touching you like this. You want to ask if he's always this intense or if there's more behind his rough exterior; some part of you needs to know these things before you let yourself lose control completely and succumb entirely to the heat coursing through your veins. But as much as those

Taylor grunts in approval as your body melts against his, eagerly returning the force of the kiss. His other hand slides around to cup your ass, gripping and squeezing firmly through your yoga pants before moving lower, pressing between your legs to feel the damp warmth of your aroused flesh. He growls in satisfaction at the contact, his tongue pushing past your lips with renewed vigor as he plunders your mouth like a conquering army seizing control of new territory.

As much as Taylor wants you right here and now, pressed against him with nothing but air between your skin and his cock, there's something about the way you're trembling beneath his touch that tells him this isn't going to be enough. He needs more. The alcohol in your system only heightens his need, making him even less patient than usual when it comes to getting what he wants.

And as much as it pains him to admit it even to himself, a part of him needs you to want this too; to feel the same desire and lust that he does burning hot and bright inside you. Perhaps then, just maybe, this will be something more than just a fleeting moment of passion fueled by hatred and rivalry. Maybe it could be the beginning of something real... something worth fighting for.

With one last groan, Taylor forces himself to break the kiss, gasping for air as he stares down at you with dark, lust-filled eyes. Even in the dim light of his kitchen, there's no mistaking the desire etched on his features or the raw need in his voice as he rasps out your name like a curse. "Lillia..."

As your fingers curl around his upper arm and yank him forward, Taylor's breath hitches in surprise before morphing into a throaty chuckle. He lets you lead him through the hallway to his bedroom without protest; in fact, there's something almost predatory about the way he stalks behind you, following your every move like a shadow.

The moment the door clicks shut behind them, the air is instantly charged with sexual tension. Taylor takes a step closer, towering over you as his hungry gaze sweeps down your body, taking in every detail: The slight flush on your cheeks, the rapid rise and fall of your breasts beneath your shirt, the way your hair falls across your face in an almost shy gesture. He wants to touch all of it, taste all of you.

"You're really something," he whispers hoarsely, his voice thick with desire. "I never knew how much I needed this... or wanted it." The words spill from his lips like a confession, and for a moment they hang in the air between them, heavy and intense as if weighing down the space around them.

Without waiting for your response, he reaches out to brush a stray hair from your face, his fingertips grazing across your cheekbone before trailing lower still, skimming along your jawline until they rest against the sensitive skin of your neck. His touch is gentle but firm, leaving no doubt as to who is in control here.

"So tell me," he says, his voice low and husky as it vibrates through you, sending shivers down your spine, "why now? Why tonight?" He searches your eyes for an answer, waiting patiently until he's certain that you understand what he means.

Despite your attempt to sound threatening, there's something in the way you say it that undermines your threat; a faint note of desperation perhaps, or maybe just an unwillingness to let go of whatever this is between you. It only serves to intensify the burning need coursing through Taylor's veins, urging him to push harder and deeper into this newfound territory with Lillia.

He shrugs casually, as if he doesn't care either way, but his gaze never leaves hers. "Fine," he says after a moment, reluctantly dropping the topic for now. He can feel the tension in her body relax just slightly at his acquiescence and decides to take advantage of it. Slowly, deliberately, he traces circles on your skin with his index finger, trailing lower still until he reaches the hem of your shirt.

With a sultry smile, he begins to tug it upwards over your head, revealing your lacy black bra in the process. His breath catches in his throat as he takes in the sight of you standing before him, bare-chested and eager for more. With trembling fingers, he cups your breast in his hand, squeezing gently before bending his head to take a tight nipple between his lips. He sucks hard, rolling it between his teeth as he teases the sensitive flesh with the tip of his tongue.

"God," he moans against your skin, "you taste so good." The words are muffled by the fabric of your bra as he continues to feast on you, lost in the feel of your body trembling beneath his touch and the intoxicating scent of your arousal. Part of him wants nothing more than to lose himself in this moment, to bury his cock

The sound of desire in your voice does things to him; it makes his cock twitch against the confines of his pants and sends a shudder of need coursing through every fiber of his being. Without warning, he releases you from his mouth and reaches down, grabbing the hem of your yoga pants in one swift movement before yanking them off and tossing them across the room. His eyes widen at the sight of you standing there completely bare before him, his lips parting on a breathless gasp as he takes in every detail: your smooth, hair-free mound; the swollen folds of pink flesh encircling your clit; and most of all, the steady stream of arousal that leaks from between your legs.

He drops to his knees in front of you, eyes locked on the sight before him. For a moment, he just takes it all in, breathing in the sweet, musky scent of your arousal and letting it fill his senses. Then, with gentle fingers, he reaches out to part your folds, exposing your wetness to the cool air of the room. His tongue darts out, swirling around your clit before pressing forward to make contact with her sensitive flesh. He groans as she bucks her hips upwards into his touch, seeking more friction and stimulation.

"Oh fuck," he whispers against your skin, the vibrations of his voice sending shivers down your spine as he continues to lick and suck at your clit, nipping gently with his teeth when she moans loud enough. His other hand curls around your hip, anchoring you to the spot as he pushes two fingers inside her, pumping in and out with steady rhythm while his tongue torments her clit relentlessly.

As your fingers curl around his scalp, Taylor hums in pleasure, the sensation intensifying the pleasure coursing through his veins. He picks up the pace, sucking harder on her clit and thrusting deeper with his fingers as she tightens around him with each moan that escapes her lips. His other hand finds its way between your legs, cupping you intimately as he searches for that spot deep within that sends you spiraling over the edge.

With a growl of triumph, he finds it and begins to tease, pressing and circling just behind where you're most sensitive. Your hips buck wildly under his touch, seeking friction against his lips and fingers as your orgasm builds in intensity. Taylor allows himself a moment to revel in the feel of you beneath his touch; the warmth and wetness of your body, the taste of your skin on his tongue, the way your voice breaks into sharp gasps as you approach release. He's never been with anyone quite like you before, and there's no question that this encounter is unlike anything he's ever experienced.

It feels almost... unreal; too good to be true. And yet here you are, beneath him, surrendering yourself completely to his touch. Perhaps it doesn't matter why you chose tonight or what either of you were expecting from this. All that matters is the heat between them and the way they seem to belong together in this moment.

Just as you begin to peak, Taylor slips his fingers free and stands, towering over you once more. With a satisfied smile playing on his lips, he undresses himself quickly, letting his pants pool around his ankles before stepping out of them. He kicks off his boxers soon after, standing naked before you for the first time. His erection points skyward, thick and hard as steel,

Taylor's smile widens at your question, his eyes flickering down to take in your surprised expression before meeting your gaze again. "I think we'll find out," he murmurs huskily, reaching out to cup your face in his hands. His touch is gentle but firm, leaving no room for misunderstanding as he tilts your head upward until you're looking at him. His eyes bore into yours, searching for any sign of hesitation or fear, and finding none. He reads only desire and wanton lust mirrored back at him.

"Come here," he breathes out, wrapping one arm around your waist while the other guides you closer still. You stare up at him as he leans down, pressing their bodies together from chest to thigh; the hard length of his cock sliding easily against your folds. His tongue darts out to wet his lips before tracing a line down your jaw and neck to the spot where your pulse thrums wildly beneath your skin.

He brushes his teeth against it, nipping gently before sucking on the tender flesh. "God," he moans against your skin, "I've wanted this for so long." His hands slide down your back to cup your ass again, squeezing roughly as he thrusts his hips forward once more, grinding their pelvises together in an attempt to both ease the ache of arousal and drive you further over the edge.

"Tell me," he whispers harshly, nipping at your earlobe, "tell me it feels good." His voice is rough with need; a raw demand that has little to do with tenderness or care. It makes something inside you snap free, unleashing a growl of its own as it echoes back: "It feels

Taylor's movements stutter to a halt as you cry out, the sound of pain mingling with pleasure in a way that cuts straight through him. He curses under his breath, already hating himself for pushing too hard too fast; for not taking things slow enough. Carefully, gently now, he starts to rock his hips back and forth against yours again, the length of his cock sliding smoothly along your folds as he strives to find a rhythm that feels good for both of you. His hands cup your ass, kneading and massaging the soft flesh as he tries to soothe the discomfort you're experiencing.

"Are you okay?" he whispers against your neck, his voice hoarse with concern. "Do I need to stop?" He can feel the tension in your body easing somewhat now that he's slowed down, but it's still there; an underlying tightness that tells him there's something more going on here than just physical pleasure.

Taylor nods slowly, his hands continuing to massage your ass as he gives you the space and time you need to adjust. Though it kills him to hold back when they're this close, he knows that pushing too hard now could ruin everything. The pain in your voice echoes in his ears, making it impossible for him not to focus on your comfort and wellbeing above all else.

As you try to shift into a more comfortable position, he helps steady you by holding onto your hips with one hand while using the other to support your back. The contact sends shivers of pleasure through his body as their bare skin touches; it's almost like they're molded together, fused in a way that feels both natural and necessary at the same time.

His cock slides easily against you with each gentle thrust, massaging your entrance in a way that's both pleasurable and arousing despite its lack of direct contact. With every passing second, his control starts to slip further; he can feel himself losing focus as the need for release overpowers everything else. The thought of finally being inside you drives him wild with desire, making it harder than ever to hold back any longer.

"Lillia," he whispers hoarsely, "are you sure...?" His voice trails off, uncertainty lacing his words as he stares down at you; waiting for any sign that you're ready for him to push harder, faster. Despite everything that has happened between them over the years, there's still a tenderness in his expression that betrays the intensity of his feelings for you; an undeniable yearning that cannot be ignored.

The tension in his body eases somewhat at your words; it's almost as if he's been holding his breath for what feels like hours, waiting for this moment. With renewed vigor, he begins to thrust harder and deeper into you now, relishing the feel of your wet heat engulfing him as he pushes forward with each powerful stroke.

His hands grip your hips firmly, his fingers digging into your flesh as he takes what he wants without hesitation or remorse. His gaze never leaves yours, locked in a fierce battle of dominance and submission that only serves to heighten the sensation coursing through them both. The sounds of their bodies colliding mingle with their harsh, ragged gasps as they lose themselves deeper in the moment; pushed ever closer to the edge by the other's relentless assault on their senses.

The headboard thumps against the wall behind you in sync with his thrusts, echoing through the room like a primal drumbeat marking the passage of time. Each slap of flesh upon wood sends vibrations coursing through your bodies, amplifying every touch and caress until it feels as if they're the only two people left in the world; their needs and desires so intertwined that nothing else matters anymore.

"Fuck," he growls out, his voice thick with desire as he feels himself starting to lose control. He knows that if he doesn't stop soon, there won't be any going back from this; no way they could pretend that it was just a fleeting moment of passion born out of rivalry and hatred. The realization only serves to fuel his need for release even further, driving him harder into your body with every thrust as he chases after the elusive satisfaction that seems so close yet still impossibly

The sound of your voice, raw and pleading, spurs him onward; there's no holding back now. He pistons his hips violently, fucking you harder than he ever has before, relishing the feel of your tight body stretched around him and the knowledge that it is his cock bringing you this kind of pleasure. His thrusts are erratic and uncontrolled; driven by a need that borders on desperation as he chases after his own release.

His fingers dig into your hips, leaving bruises where they press down so hard against your flesh, but you don't care. The pain is nothing compared to the pleasure coursing through you, and it only serves to heighten your arousal further. You arch your back off the bed with each thrust, pushing yourself deeper onto his invading length as your orgasm barrels toward you, unbidden and all-consuming.

Your nails rake down his shoulders and back, drawing blood, but he doesn't notice; all he can focus on is the feel of you beneath him and the knowledge that this is something real. Something special. It frightens him almost as much as it thrills him, because once he crosses this line there will be no going back; no pretending that what they share isn't something more than just rivalry and hatred. But despite the fear, the desire for you is too powerful to ignore.

With a harsh, guttural cry, Taylor comes undone; his body tenses and convulses as he empties himself deep inside you, pulse after pulse of hot semen spilling from him in an orgasm that seems to last forever. He collapses on top of you, breathing heavily into your neck, feeling the weight of his release even through his pounding heart. It takes a moment for

As you both come down from the high of your orgasms, Taylor remains pressed tightly against you; his cock still buried deep within your body. He presses a kiss to your sweat-dampened skin as he takes in the feel of your soft breasts pressed against his chest and your warm, welcoming thighs wrapped around his hips. There's a sense of peace that settles over him now; a quiet acceptance of what has happened between you, even if it isn't exactly how he envisioned it going.

As the last lingering tremors subside and your bodies begin to cool down, Taylor pulls out of you carefully, reluctant to lose contact with your skin just yet. He curls his fingers around one of yours, lacing them together as he rests their joined hands on your stomach. For now, it feels good to simply lie here like this; silent and content in the afterglow of their shared passion.

The sound of Taylor's gentle breathing mingles with the even rhythm of yours, and for a moment, time seems to stand still as they both bask in the quiet comfort that has somehow arisen from the chaos of the past hours. It feels like anything is possible now; that despite all that has come before, there might be hope for something more between them. He looks down at your face, studying it intently, searching for some sign that perhaps he's not just imagining things; that maybe this isn't all just a figment of his overactive imagination.

Finally, he speaks, the words barely above a whisper. "Lillia...?" he asks hesitantly, not quite sure how to phrase the question burning on his tongue. His heart races as he waits for your reply; for you to tell him that what just happened meant nothing and that

With a sigh, Taylor relaxes back against the pillows with a satisfied smile on his lips. He can't help but feel grateful that you don't want to talk right now; it gives him the chance to just enjoy this moment without any of the usual tension or animosity between them. His eyes drift shut as he allows himself to be lulled by your gentle touch and the warmth of your body pressed against his own.

As he drifts off into a contented sleep, he finds himself dreaming of days spent wrapped up in your arms; nights spent exploring the depths of each other's bodies and minds. In these dreams, there is no rivalry or hate; only acceptance and understanding. And for once, it doesn't seem so far-fetched. Perhaps, just perhaps, there really might be something more between them after all...