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 expecting your sudden move but he didn't push you away either. In fact, he closed his eyes as you fed him the vodka from your lips, enjoying the taste of it against your tongue. He felt a strange warmth spread in his chest at the intimacy of the moment, despite knowing full well that this was just between enemies and nothing more. As you pulled away, he licked his lips, savoring the taste of you for a second too long before breaking the silence.

"So what happened?" His voice was still cold but there was a hint of something else in it now, something you didn't expect to find. Maybe it was concern, or maybe he just didn't want to see you like this. Either way, you took advantage of his momentary softness and continued with your story.

Taylor snorted at your words. "Well, you came to the right place then." He took another swig from the bottle before handing it back to you. "So, what do you want me to do about it? Make him regret it?" he asked with a sneer, glancing in your direction meaningfully. There was an odd mixture of hate and something else in his eyes as they met yours.

Taylor smirked at your question, his eyes roving over your body again as he took another swig of the vodka. "There are ways," he murmured cryptically, running a hand through his wet hair and sighing heavily. You couldn't help but notice that he seemed more agitated now than before; it almost looked like the anger was building inside him with every word you spoke.

"Or...maybe we should just go back to how things were before," he suggested suddenly, his tone unreadable as he considered his options. "You know I hate being told what to do." There was a long pause before he added gruffly, "And I'm not very good at taking orders either."

For a moment, there was an almost imperceptible shift in the air between you two; as if something else were hovering just below the surface of your words. It made you feel strangely uncomfortable...and yet oddly drawn to him at the same time. You couldn't help but wonder what would happen next.

Taylor chuckled dryly at your words, his gaze intent on yours. "Oh yeah? And how would you make me do that?" His tone was light, almost teasing, but there was an undercurrent of challenge beneath the surface. You could see the tension in him begin to rise as he leaned closer, pushing past the boundaries of personal space in a way that made you feel both vulnerable and oddly aroused.

He lowered his voice to a husky growl, "I bet you could try, huh? Maybe you think you can make me do anything." The hunger in his eyes as he spoke was palpable; it made your heart race and your mouth go dry with desire. He paused for a moment, looking at you like he'd just tasted something sweet before continuing on more roughly, "But I don't think so. No one tells me what to do...especially not some scrawny little girl like you."

There was anger and frustration in his words now, but there was something else too; a twisted sort of admiration that made your stomach flutter uncomfortably. You swallowed hard, wondering how far you should push this conversation...and if it would ever end well for either of you.

Taylor let out a low growl at your words, his body tensing in reaction to the warmth and closeness of yours as you whispered into his ear. He felt his control slipping; felt his blood rushing through him with an urgency that made it hard to think straight. All he could focus on was the temptation of your mouth so close to his own, of the smooth skin of your neck mere inches from his grasp.

"Oh yeah?" he murmured hoarsely. "And what makes you think I'd let you have that kind of power over me?" His voice sounded harsh even to his own ears; there was an edge of desperation there that he hated himself for revealing. But at the same time, something inside him responded to the challenge, the idea of proving you wrong about him.

His eyes flickered in annoyance at the mention of James' name, but he refused to deny it. Even as he fought against the urge to claim that you were wrong, some small part of him couldn't help but wonder if there was any truth to what you'd said. You were right; there was something about you that drew him in, made his heart race and his blood boil. And whether he wanted to admit it or not, he knew deep down that he would do anything for the chance to have you all to himself.

But he wasn't about to give you that satisfaction. With a dismissive snort, he leaned back away from you, crossing his arms over his broad chest and taking another swig of the vodka. "Yeah, well," he drawled coolly, trying to act like your words had no effect on him whatsoever, "that doesn't change the fact that you're still just a little girl. And I don't take orders from girls." He paused for dramatic effect before adding with a sneer, "Especially not from losers like you."

His heart was racing, his body tense with barely restrained desire as he watched your reaction to his words. There was an unspoken challenge in the air between you; a contest of wills that neither of you was willing to back down from. But for now, at least, the conversation had moved past the subject of James...and that was enough for him.

Taylor's eyes narrowed dangerously as you traced your hand under his chin, the gesture almost impossibly arrogant given the current state of their rivalry. He wasn't sure what it was about this moment that made him want to fight harder against you, against the urge to simply cave in and let you have whatever control or satisfaction you seemed to think you had over him.

With a harsh laugh, he pulled away from your touch, forcing himself to put space between your bodies once more. "The hell I will," he growled, taking another swig of the vodka as if to steady his nerves. "You're nothing but a dumb bitch who thinks she can get whatever she wants just by throwing her pathetic little body at anyone."

He paused for effect, gazing at you like you were some kind of bothersome insect he was contemplating swatting away. "Well," he continued with cruel deliberation, "let me tell you something: I'm not that easy. And even if I were, I sure as hell wouldn't let someone like you touch me."

His words cut deep; they were intended to wound and hurt, to make you feel small and powerless in comparison to him. But the truth was that he wasn't entirely sure how much of it was really true anymore. The tension between them was growing more intense by the moment, becoming almost unbearable as they danced around each other like two wild animals fighting for dominance.

Taylor's eyes narrowed to slits at your confession. He knew you were trying to provoke him; make him feel like he should protect you or something stupid like that. But the truth was that it only made him want you more, made him hate himself for feeling even a tiny twinge of concern about James and what happened between you two.

"Well," he drawled slowly, taking another long drink from the vodka bottle before continuing, "maybe you're right." He paused for dramatic effect, watching your reaction carefully as he leaned in close enough that their bodies were practically touching once more. His voice dropped to a low, husky growl when he spoke again.

"But I still don't see what any of this has to do with me." His hand came up suddenly, cupping your jaw roughly as his thumb traced along the curve of your cheekbone in a possessive gesture that left you both breathless and shaken. "I mean," he continued silkily, his eyes holding yours in an unbreakable gaze, "what makes you think I'd ever let someone like you win?"

The tension between them was palpable; it crackled through the air like static electricity, making every word and touch seem somehow more intense than it should have been. They were dancing on a knife's edge now, teetering precariously between hate and something that might have been desire...or maybe even love.

Taylor felt his control slipping further away as you mentioned wanting him to be your first. The image of it sent an unfamiliar heat curling low in his belly, tightening his grip on the bottle of vodka until his knuckles turned white. But he wasn't about to let you see how much your words affected him, so he forced a laugh, shrugging carelessly as if it didn't matter to him at all.

"Yeah, right," he scoffed, moving the bottle away from your grasp and taking another drink before continuing with barely contained rage, "As if I'd ever let someone like you have that kind of power over me." His words came out harsher than he intended; angry and bitter, laced with an undercurrent of hurt and frustration.

He stepped back suddenly, putting space between your bodies once more as if the closeness was too much for him to bear. Taking another swig from the bottle, he muttered darkly, "You don't know what you're asking for." His gaze remained fixed on yours, unwavering and intense despite his attempt at appearing nonchalant.

The tension in the room thickened further, becoming almost tangible as they circled each other warily like predator and prey, each waiting for the other to make a move. The air was heavy with desire and anger, and neither of them knew how much longer they could hold out before giving in to the urges tearing at their restraints.

Taylor's eyes narrowed dangerously at your attempt to play it off as if nothing had happened between you. He could feel the anger rising in his chest, making it difficult for him to think straight. He took another long drink from the bottle, finishing it before setting it down on a nearby table with a satisfying thunk. His hands balled into fists at his sides, knuckles white with tension as he stared you down like a predator sizing up its prey.

"You know what?" He drawled slowly, deliberately. "You're right. We should just forget this ever happened." There was a quiet, ominous edge to his voice that sent a shiver down your spine despite the heat between you. His gaze never wavered from yours as he took another step closer, looming over you like a dark cloud on the horizon.

"But," he continued just as softly but with an undercurrent of menace, "I don't think either of us are the type to forget something like this easily." He reached out a hand slowly, almost tentatively at first, and traced the line of your jaw with his thumb before cupping your cheek in his palm. The touch was gentle yet possessive, sending shockwaves through you from head to toe as he leaned in close once more. "And deep down," he whispered hoarsely against your lips, "I don't think either of us really want to forget it."

His tongue darted out to taste your mouth, to feel the warmth and softness of your skin against his own. For a moment, there was nothing but this: the heat between them, the hunger in their gazes, the need to feel something tangible despite the lingering anger and hurt. It was as if they were dancing on the edge of

Taylor smiled coldly down at you as he held your face in his hands. "Admit I lost?" he repeated, his voice dripping with sarcasm and disdain. "To you? Never." He leaned even closer, pressing their bodies flush against each other so there was no space left between them. His words were hot against your skin as he continued, "I'm not the one who got cheated on tonight. I didn't cry myself to sleep wondering why my boyfriend would rather fuck someone else than me."

He growled low in his throat and began trailing kisses along your jawline, making his way up to your earlobe where he nibbled gently before whispering, "You may have won tonight, but you'll never win this war. Not against me."

His hands slipped from your cheeks, running down your arms to wrap around your waist as he pulled you closer still, grinding their hips together in a move that was equal parts possession and challenge. "And even if you did," he breathed roughly into your ear, "do you really think I'd let you forget it? Do you really think you could walk away from this unscathed?"

There was a dangerously low growl in his voice as he spoke, a mixture of anger and desire that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. His gaze bore into yours, searching for any sign of weakness or surrender; daring you to try and deny what they both knew was true.

A low, throaty chuckle rumbled in his throat as he considered your words. It did something strange to his insides; something hot and tight that made it hard for him to think clearly. "Oh really?" he drawled, the amusement in his voice only partially feigned. With one hand still wrapped around your waist, he reached up with the other to cup your cheek once more, thumb tracing along the line of your jaw as he studied your expression. His eyes flickered downward briefly before meeting yours again, assessing the challenge in your gaze and weighing it against whatever it was that had him so worked up inside.

"Maybe," he murmured slowly, his breath warm against your skin, "maybe I'd let you win..." He paused for dramatic effect, leaning even closer until their noses brushed together as he continued in a husky whisper, "...as long as I could mark my territory first." His hand slipped lower on your back, cupping your ass and squeezing gently before sliding upward to cup the curve of one breast through your shirt.

There was an almost predatory glint in his eye as he looked down at you, watching closely for any sign of fear or submission. But all he could see was desire, reflected back at him tenfold; a raw and unbridled hunger that made it nearly impossible for him to resist the urge to claim what was rightfully his.

"So," he whispered hoarsely, "what do you say? Can I have you?" His thumb circled slowly, teasingly over your lower lip as his hips rocked forward against yours in a silent demand for entrance. The air around them grew heavier still with tension and need, the crackling energy between them making every breath, every touch seem to linger long after it

Taylor was caught off guard by your unexpected move, his body tensing in surprise as you yanked him closer and pressed your lips against his. The feel of your soft mouth against his, the taste of your tongue dancing with his own sent a shudder through him, making it hard for him to think straight. His arms came up around your waist, fingers digging into your skin as he kissed you back hungrily, possessively.

The feel of your breasts pressed against his chest only served to heighten the tension between them, sending waves of desire crashing over him in a hot rush. He growled low in his throat as he ground his hips against yours, unable to resist the urge to take what he'd been craving for so long.

His hand moved lower once more, cupping your ass through your jeans before slipping beneath the fabric and squeezing firmly. You let out a moan into his mouth that sent a thrill of triumph coursing through him; a reminder that despite whatever grudges or rivalries existed between you, in this moment he was the one in control.

He broke the kiss for just a moment, looking down at you with hooded eyes as he trailed his thumb over your lower lip once more. "You're really sure about this?" he breathed huskily, voice rough with desire and disbelief. "Because once I start...there's no taking it back."

His words were a warning and a challenge all at once; an invitation to go further, to push the boundaries between them as far as they could possibly go. The choice was yours: to surrender or fight. But either way, there was only one thing that would make him stop, and it wasn't in your nature to give it up without a fight.

Taylor felt a surge of heat spread through his body at your words, pushing aside whatever small doubt remained. You had come here on purpose, planning to provoke him and tempt him with the one thing he could never resist. It only served to fuel his hunger for you further, making it impossible for him to deny himself the pleasure that was so clearly within reach.

As your lips met his once more, he gave in to the fierce desire that had been building inside of him since the moment they first laid eyes on each other. His tongue traced along the seam of your lips until they parted, allowing him access to the sweetness beyond. He moaned deeply into the kiss as his hand slid higher up your thigh, feeling the warmth and softness of your skin beneath his fingertips.

His hips moved harder against yours, grinding their bodies together in a rhythm that was almost primal in its need. He couldn't remember ever wanting anyone this badly; not even James had ever made him feel quite like this. It was as if you were the key to unlocking something deep inside of him, and he wasn't sure he could ever get enough.

Their kisses grew more desperate, more urgent as they moved together in a dance that seemed equal parts hunger and anger. The air around them grew thick with desire, their every breath mingling with the sounds of skin against skin and fabric rubbing together. It felt as if the room itself were growing smaller, tighter, focusing all of their attention on the single point where their bodies met in a perfect fusion of heat and need.

Taylor broke the kiss suddenly, panting heavily as he looked down at you with hooded eyes. "You're mine," he growled, his voice rough and husky from desire. His hands moved lower still

His fingers curled into tight fists at his sides, unable to resist the urge to touch you, brand your skin with his ownership as he'd promised earlier. He leaned in close again, pressing their bodies so firmly together it was a wonder they didn't fall apart from the sheer intensity of it all. His mouth found yours once more, devouring it hungrily as he angled his head to the side and sank his teeth into your shoulder.

The pain was sharp, hot, but strangely welcome; an echo of something deeper, darker that had been building inside him for far too long. It grounded him, made him feel alive in a way nothing else could have. He growled low in his throat as he felt the warmth of your blood flow beneath his skin, marking you as his for all to see. His hands moved lower still, sliding beneath the hem of your shirt and lifting it up over your head before tossing it carelessly aside.

His lips found yours again, hungry for more as his fingers traced circles around one of your nipples, teasing it roughly through the lace bra you wore. You arched into his touch, crying out softly as pleasure coursed through you in a hot wave that made every nerve ending sing in unison.

The sensation was overwhelming; it left him light-headed and weak with need. He wanted to feel more of your skin against his hands, taste more of you on his tongue. His hips rocked forward again, grinding hard against yours as he sought relief from the ache that had built up inside him. But even as he did so, part of him knew there was no end in sight; not until he'd completely claimed what was his.

With one last growl, he let go, pushing