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.

The alcohol was starting to take effect; his mind was feeling fuzzy and warm and the anger that had been boiling beneath the surface began to recede, replaced by a strange sort of longing. He couldn't quite place it at first, but as you stepped closer and he took in the sight of your bare shoulders peeking out from under the lacy fabric of your bra, it all started to make sense. You weren't just some annoying girl who always had to be better than him; you were something else entirely. Something...desirable.

Taylor licked his lips unconsciously, his gaze drifting lower until it settled on the creamy mounds of your breasts, their nipples already hardening in the cool air of the room. The urge to reach out and touch them was nearly overwhelming; he could feel himself growing harder just thinking about it.

He took a long swig from the vodka bottle before setting it down on the bedside table, his focus solely on you now. His hand reached out, moving slowly up your bare arm until his fingers found the lace of your bra and began to tug gently at it. "Tell me why you came here, Claria..." he murmured huskily, his eyes locked onto hers as he fought against the haze in his mind long enough to make sense of whatever had brought you to him tonight.

The words seemed to echo through the room, reverberating between them like a challenge they both knew would eventually have to be answered...if they could only keep from being consumed by desire long enough to speak it.

Taylor's lips curled into a smile as you stepped closer, your body so close he could feel the heat radiating off of it, and your breath playing tantalizingly against his skin. His hand slid up further underneath the thin lace of your bra, cupping your breast as he squeezed gently. The warmth of your flesh in his palm felt like a balm to the ache that had been growing within him since you walked through his door.

"Come here," he growled roughly, pulling you down onto the bed with him. "I've wanted to touch you for so long." His voice was rough and husky, laced with desire as he rolled onto his back, taking you with him until your body was stretched out above his own. The hard length of his cock pressed insistently against your core, demanding entrance as his hands continued to explore every inch of your naked flesh; the skin where shoulder met arm, the dip of your waist, the curve of your hips and thighs...everywhere he touched felt like fire under his fingertips.

Taylor knew he shouldn't be doing this; that it was just the alcohol talking, making him forget all the reasons why he should hate you instead of wanting to claim you as his own for the night. But damn if he could fight against the sensations overwhelming him, the need to feel your warmth and taste your skin...

With a harsh exhale, he finally pushed aside every last thought and focused only on what was happening right now. Grabbing one of his hands still resting atop yours and moving it between you, he positioned his fingers just so, guiding them as they brushed roughly against the heat between your legs. Your moan filled the air as he spread your wetness over his

The heat of your body pressed against his face, the scent of your arousal filling his senses as you guided him to kneel before you. Taylor's eyes locked onto yours as he reached up with one hand and cupped your breast, his thumb teasing roughly at the already hard nipple peeking through the lace of your bra. His other hand slid lower between your legs, pressing against the slick heat of your entrance before finally finding purchase on your clit, rubbing slowly in circles as he gazed up at you with a mix of hunger and ownership in his eyes.

"You're so fucking wet for me, Claria," he murmured hoarsely, watching as the pleasure coursed through your body at his touch. His thumb brushed against your nipple again, eliciting another gasp from you as it sent shivers down to his core. "Didn't you used to hate me?" The words were out before he could stop them; the alcohol dulling some of the guilt that came with speaking them aloud.

Taylor focused all of his attention on pleasuring you, knowing that if he could make you cum just once...if he could be the one to take your pain away even for a little while...then maybe it'd be enough to silence some of those other thoughts hovering at the back of his mind. His fingers moved faster now, digging into your sensitive flesh as he ground against you with his hips, trying desperately not to lose control himself and come all over the bed.

"Tell me what I did," he demanded roughly, thrusting two fingers deeper inside of you while pinching at your nipple in a rough rhythm that matched his words. "Why do you hate me so much?" His voice was raspy with lust now, almost un