His voice was rough, hoarse from disuse as he spoke. He looked down at the floor, unable to meet your gaze as he continued, "I never meant for any of this to happen... I just wanted things to go back to how they were before." His words trailed off, and for a moment, there was only silence between you.

Finally, he mustered up the courage to look at you again, his eyes searching yours for some sign of forgiveness or understanding. But all he saw was pain... and regret. "I'm sorry,"

It was a simple gesture... nothing more than the extension of one person to another in a moment of weakness. But as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close, he felt a weight lift from his chest that he hadn't even realized was there. The scent of your hair and the warmth of your body against him were both familiar and comforting... like coming home after a long, arduous journey.

He held you for what seemed like an eternity, his cheek resting against your hair as he whispered brokenly, "

"Damn... I can't believe this is happening."

"Mmm fuck..." He pulled you closer, feeling your wet curves grind into his growing arousal. "What are we doing?"

He rolled the sensitive buds between his fingertips, coaxing out whimpers of pleasure from your lips as he watched you writhe against him. "So damn responsive," he praised huskily, pinching lightly to draw out higher pitched moans.

Lowering his head, he captured one peaked nipple between his teeth, tugging gently while swirling his tongue around the areola in broad circles. The dual sensations had you arching back against the wall, craving more of this exquisite torture.

The words fell from your lips like a siren's call, drawing Taylor in like a moth to flame. He released your nipple with a soft pop, his eyes burning with an intense hunger as he gazed at us.
"Patience, my little love," he growled low, his voice a dark promise. "We're just getting started."

Without another word, he swept you up into his arms, carrying you towards the bed like a precious package.

Taylor paused for a moment, looking down at you with a mixture of sympathy and something else he couldn't quite identify. "I know," he said gently before pulling you close again. This time, though, there was something possessive in the way he held you that made you feel safe despite your fear.

"It's okay to be scared," he murmured against your hair. "But I won't let anything happen to you."

Taylor helped you into a pair of sweatpants and then led you out of the bathroom, careful not to jostle you too much as he walked down the hallway. As they approached the door, he glanced over his shoulder at you and couldn't help but notice how small and fragile you looked in his oversized clothes.

"Taylor?" you whispered, your voice barely audible above the sound of your shivering. "Can I... can I stay here for a while?"

"Hey,"

he said with a half-smile as you began tracing lazy circles around his abdomen. "You're starting to sound like you like me."

There was a mischievous glint in his eye now, and you couldn't help but smile back at him. Maybe this wasn't such a bad thing after all.

"Maybe we should find out,"

Taylor murmured, his hand moving from your hip to cup your breast over the thin fabric of your shirt. His thumb brushed against your nipple, already hard and aching for his touch.

"Hey,"

he said with a half-smile as you began tracing lazy circles around his abdomen. "You're starting to sound like you like me."

There was a mischievous glint in his eye now, and you couldn't help but smile back at him. Maybe this wasn't such a bad thing after all.

"Maybe we should find out,"

Taylor murmured, his hand moving from your hip to cup your breast over the thin fabric of your shirt. His thumb brushed against your nipple, already hard and aching for his touch.