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.

Taylor wasn't particularly happy that you had pushed your way into his house and decided to steal his vodka right out the fridge. He resisted the urge to push your arm away and reluctantly allowed you to shove your lips against his own as you forced him to taste the burning liquid you were about to share with him. As soon as the vodka touched his tongue, he quickly tilted his head back and swallowed it down, not wanting to hurt your feelings by making a face at the taste. When he finally pulled away from your lips, his expression remained mostly unchanged; cold and indifferent like always.

Taylor took the vodka bottle when you offered it to him with a nod, already feeling the warmth spread through his chest as he tossed back several gulps of the strong liquor in quick succession. He could feel the heat creeping up his neck and into his face as the alcohol began to take effect, but whether that was from the drink itself or your nearness, he couldn't quite tell yet. It didn't seem to have affected his attitude any; his eyes were still cold and distant as they flicked back and forth between you and the bottle in his hands.

As you stumbled towards his bedroom, unbuttoning your top as you went, he followed closely behind, unable to resist the sight of your exposed flesh even through his disinterest in you. With every step you took away from the alcohol, the effect of it became more apparent; your movements became less graceful and he could see a faint flush creeping up from your neck to stain your cheeks.

He paused at the foot of his bed, watching as you continued to undress yourself, unsure if you were trying to seduce him or just get warm. The knowledge that it was probably the latter only served to frustrate him even more, a twinge of guilt prickling in his chest despite everything else he felt towards you.

"Why'd ya come here, Claria?" he finally growled, breaking the silence as he took another drink from the bottle. "You coulda gone anywhere." His words were laced with accusation and anger; you were trespassing on his territory now, invading the only place he truly felt safe in this fucked up world.

"So why?" He asked harshly, glaring at you with unblinking eyes. "Why the fuck did you come here, Claria? What do ya want from me?" The anger in his voice was palpable; it burned like acid as he struggled to keep his emotions under control. He took another drink, trying to drown out whatever feelings were threatening to surface beneath the layers of cold indifference.

His hands moved automatically, reaching out and gripping your shoulders as he pulled you closer still; close enough that he could feel the heat from your body against his own chest. His breath fanned across your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine despite the alcohol's attempt to numb it away. The rough touch of his hands contrasted sharply with the gentleness he usually reserved for anyone other than you; it was almost as if he was punishing himself through you.

As his eyes moved over your face, taking in every feature, he couldn't help but wonder why this was all so complicated between them. They hated each other, they knew that... but there was something else there too. Something that made him want to protect you even when common sense told him to just let nature take its course. And then there were the times like these, when he found himself unable to resist your presence, despite every rational thought in his head screaming at him to run as fast and as far away as possible.

Taylor scoffed derisively at your words; they made him angrier somehow than anything else you could have said. "Well that's fuckin' convenient." He growled, stepping even closer to you now so that their bodies were barely a breath apart. His gaze dropped to your lips as his hands tightened on your shoulders, the frustration and attraction warring within him like two sides of a seesaw.

He wanted to push you away; he really did. But at the same time, he found himself leaning in closer, drawn by some invisible force he couldn't understand or control. His own breath was coming faster now as his hands began to roam restlessly over your back, pulling you tighter against him with every touch. It felt almost like he was claiming you as his own, marking you as part of the territory he so desperately clung to in this chaotic world.

His lips moved towards yours, hesitating only for a heartbeat before pressing firmly against your mouth. There was no tenderness in his kiss; instead it was hard and demanding, a possession so complete that you couldn't help but wonder if he even realized how much control he had over you in this moment. Your eyes fluttered closed as he deepened the kiss, sweeping his tongue past your lips to claim yours in a rough, hungry union.

He knew he should stop; they both should. But something about having you here, under him and against him, made it impossible for him to let go. It was almost like this was the only way he could feel alive anymore - by hurting you and making you hurt in return. And as his hands slid lower, cupping your ass and pulling you even closer so that their hips were grinding together in time with their kiss, he knew that for better or worse, there

Taylor growled deep in his throat as your lips parted beneath his, giving him access to your tongue and allowing their tongues to tangle together in a fierce battle of dominance. His hands left your ass briefly only to slide lower still, gripping the fabric of your pants and yanking them downward until they were around your ankles; then he was reaching for the thin cotton of your underwear, trying desperately to drag that off too as his fingers found their way between your legs.

The feel of your wet heat against his palm sent a jolt of lust shooting through him, making it even harder to focus on anything other than claiming you, possessing you completely. His other hand fisted in your hair, holding your head firmly as he continued to ravage your mouth with his own, not caring that his roughness was hurting you or that he was being too forceful; all that mattered was the feel of your body beneath his touch and the knowledge that for once in his life, he was in control.

As if his touch had been some kind of trigger, your knees buckled and you sunk down against him, still gripping his shoulders as your head fell back with a soft moan. The sound of it only seemed to fuel the flames burning within him; it was like music to his ears, filling the air between them with an unspoken need that demanded to be satisfied at any cost. With one hand still buried in your hair, he slid the other up your body until it cupped your breast through the thin fabric of your shirt, pinching and rolling your nipple roughly as his thumb and forefinger moved in an almost painful circle.

Despite everything else going on between them, this newfound roughness only seemed to excite you more; you arched

Taylor's eyes narrowed as you broke the kiss, his body tensing instinctively at the loss of contact with your lips and tongue. But then you were there, shirtless and naked before him, a blatant invitation written all over your features that he couldn't ignore no matter how much he wanted to. His hands moved automatically, sliding up your sides to grip your shoulders once more as his thumbs found their way beneath the hem of your bra, hooking it and pushing it aside so that one of your breasts was suddenly exposed to the cool air.

He leaned in closer, taking the newly revealed flesh into his mouth and sucking hard on the nipple, rolling it between his teeth as he flicked his tongue over the sensitive peak. His other hand slid down your body, past your hip and lower still until his fingers found the wet heat they'd been aching for since the moment you stepped foot in his room. He thrust two fingers deep inside you, curling them upwards to hit that spot just behind your clit that made you shudder with pleasure against him.

As he continued to fuck his hand into you while sucking on your breast, one thought reverberated through his mind like a prayer: This was wrong. So very wrong. But it felt so good...

Taylor growled with pleasure as his fingers found their rhythm inside you, feeling your wet heat slicking them up as you moaned and squirmed against him. His free hand moved to your other breast, cupping it roughly through the thin fabric of your bra before pinching and rolling the nipple between his thumb and forefinger, eliciting another needy sound from your throat.

He tore his mouth away from your breast long enough to look down at you, those cold eyes boring into yours as he watched your reactions to his touch. You were so fucking close; the tightness around his fingers and the way your hips bucked against him told him that much. And it only made him want to push you harder, further than ever before until you finally shattered under him. He gave a roughly satisfied grunt as he felt your orgasm building, growing stronger with every thrust of his hand and tug of his fingers on your sensitive bud.

With one last hard squeeze of your breast, he let go just as you cried out, arching up off the bed in release. Even then, he didn't stop; if anything, his touch became even rougher as he took what he could get while you were still so sensitive from your climax. His hips moved roughly against you now, rubbing his already hard length against your clit and inner thighs with each thrust of his hand and pull of his fingers.

He knew that this was all wrong; there was no love between them, just a bitter rivalry and the sexual tension that came with it. But at this moment, as he felt you trembling beneath him and moaning his name like some kind of prayer, he couldn't help but wonder if maybe... just maybe... things didn't have to stay this way forever. Or if they did