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Debauchery on Campus (Chynya x lilbreadstick16)

Stephen simply existed in this new dream place, getting used to the brightness after a while and it quickly became just like the darkness. He couldn't see his body nor anything else, just a presence floating around in a void.

To him, it felt like eternity, bit in reality it was only a few hours, the familiar sound of his alarm cutting through everything, eyes slowly opening back into the real world, back to darkness. Rolling onto his back after dismissing the alarm on his phone, he stretched and his foot brushed against something and he looked over, a mound next to him where there hadn't been when he passed out.

Moving slowly, he pulled the covers back just enough to see Taylor underneath, breathing slow and even. Brow furled with even more confusion, he took a moment to just watch her sleep, admire the silhouette sheade against the sheets, barely visible, like a wisp from fairytales.

He had planned to go into the other room and start her training back up, but for some reason, his desire to do that faded for now. Instead, he made sure his real alarm was still set, turning back to Taylor. Wiggling in close, trying his best not to wake her, he snuggled in close, gently placing one arm over her and resting his head against the pillow. She might have been awake, faking sleep, but she had always recoiled when he touched her before, so he figured that wasn't the case.

There will be plenty of time to break her later. Let her have this small victory and it will be that much sweeter. He wasn't entirely sure if she would ever break, but he would give it the ole college try, as they say. Nuzzling his head in as close as he dared, he let sleep take over once again.

And this time he actually dreamed.
 
Taylor stirred, and woke slowly. Her mind pulled itself grudgingly from its slumbering state, marching into the harshness of consciousness until she regained all five senses, and felt the weight both beside her and laying on top of her. She took a sharp breath in through her nose, eyes shooting open wide, and pulled back from the stranger in her bed.

Then consciousness fully took hold, and the memories of last night came flooding back. Only sleeping. She was still fully clothed, and bundled in the blanket she had brought from the spare bedroom. His arm lay across her stomach now, having slipped down from her movement. She looked between him and his gentle grip on her, then settled back onto the pillow. The bed was warm, his body even warmer, and Taylor opted to sleep in a bit more. She had left her phone in the other room, and wasn't sure what time it was, but her sleepy mind brushed it aside as a concern for later. Right now, she decided that she wanted nothing more than a few minutes of rest, and to enjoy the warm touch that he offered now.
 
Stephen dreamed of his childhood, camping trips with his family all balled into one grand trip. Uncles who had died years before were there, cousins he hadn't seen in ten plus years, all enjoying themselves around a bonfire. He knew he was dreaming, but couldn't pull himself out of the color and sounds after so long being in the dark.

When his alarm clock finally went off at 6:30, he felt refreshed, energized like he hadn't in a while. Yawning, he wuickly remembered where he was, his arm still draped over Taylor, though in a different spot, and he pulled her in close, kissing he shoulder, still covered in blankets. Moving his arm up to hers, he shook her gently, trying to wake her up.

"Time to get up. I have to be to work in a little bit." Rolling out of bed on his side, he stood on his tippy toes and reached above his head to the ceiling, muscles straining, a few pops here and there. Walking into the bathroom, he closed the door behind him and turned on the light, squinting from the brightness as he relieved himself, brushed his teeth, and turned on the hot water in the shower. Taking his underwear off, he stepped into the shower and started lathering his body with soap, hair with shampoo and conditioner. When he was clean, he placed his hands against the wall and just stood there, letting the hot water ease some tension and stress away.
 
The alarm woke Taylor first, the annoying high pitch buzzes jarring her from a cozy sleep. Then, his voice, and the gentle shifting of her body in the sheets. She rubbed her eyes, blinked at him, and couldn't help but give him a soft smile. She yawned, watching him as he stood and stretched himself awake. Again she was drawn to watching his body, muscles shifting and rippling in the dim bedroom before he crossed to the bathroom. Once the door was shut, she stretched out in bed. It was much less inviting now, his side of the bed already fading back to cold sheets. She rolled herself out of bed, feet hit the floor, and sat on the edge of the bed for a moment. She listened to the shower water, an idea racing through her mind before racing right back out.

She stood and crossed to the bedroom door, pausing only a moment before she let herself out. Taylor found her socks and shoes where she left them, waiting for her beside the bed in the spare room. She slipped her phone into her pocket, then made her way back to the living room. She spun around absently, patting her pockets to ensure that she had everything, then slipped out the front door.

Taylor sat in her car for anywhere between two to twenty minutes, replaying the events from last night in her head. Despite his commands and harsh tones, most of the night had been spent in the comfortable bliss of a "good first date". Before she let herself spiral into what his behavior could mean, or what this could lead to, she pulled out of the driveway and headed home to get ready for class.
 
Stephen finished with his shower and dried himself off, walking out of the bathroom naked to find an empty room and the door open. Finally something he had expected. Shrugging his shoulders, he walked to his closet and started picking out clothes. It was supposed to be warmer today, so he picked a nice khaki colored pair of shorts and a breathable t-shirt, one specifically made for being out in the sun. It also highlighted his for body, so it was always a good choice.

When he was finished getting ready, he locked up his house and hopped into his car, and headed into work. He would have been lying if he didn'tiss seeing her car still there, but all in good time. The drive was normal, a couple people pulled over for speeding along the way.

When he got to the University, he grabbed his work bag out of the trunk, filled with cones, medical tape for minor stuff, and some bats, balls, and gloves. Heading inside, he swung by Sally's office and plopped in a chair, big shit-eating grin on his face.

"Why are you so happy this morning? Wait, don't tell me, I said I don't wanna know anything-" she started, before he stopped her by holding up his hands.

"All we did was spend the night together, watched a movie, had a couple drinks. That's it. I swear. You can ask her yourself."

Sally narrowed her eyes at him, looking for any trace of deception but he never lied to her about this stuff, so why would he start now? "Maybe I will," she responded before switching the subject and going into a breakdown of tonight's practice and team meeting topics. The tryouts were being held the next day, hopefully enough time to get anyone up to speed before their next game in four days.

Going to his office when that was done, he immediately noticed a big manilla envelope sitting on his desk and his heart sank. Carlie really was going through with a lawsuit it looked like. Groaning, he sat down and opened the envelope and pulled out the contents. His body froze when the contents turned out to be pictures. Dozens of them, from outside his house showing numerous girls walking through the doorway, his face clear as day.

"What the fuck?" he said to himself out loud, looking through them all, glad he didn't see Taylor in there. He had never showed away from admitting he had been with a lot of women, some of them barely legal college students, but the fact someone had been keeping an eye on him, was unsettling.

Flipping through them again, he couldn't help but wonder what the point of this was until he flipped them over and saw writing on one, big red, block letters.

"WE ALL REMEMBER!"
 
Taylor was showered, dressed, and out the door again within an hour. She climbed into her car for the second time this morning, and again sat to contemplate. Her first class was in twenty minutes. She hadn't been late a single day this semester. She decided it was worth the tardy.

Taylor put the car in reverse, backed out of her parking space, and turn left, instead of right. Straight toward the police station.

She spent nearly ten minutes in the parking lot, gripping her steering wheel and steeling herself to go inside. After several minutes of deep breathing, she picked up the cheap phone he had bought her and stepped out of the car, into the bright morning light.

The police station was small, but comfortable. The lobby had several chairs upholstered with cracking leather, and a few plastic chairs next to the front desk. Taylor approached the desk, put her hands carefully on the counter, and cleared her throat. "Excuse me," she said softly. "I'd like to file a report." The secretary looked up from her screen and gave her a small nod. She finished her task, then turned and shuffled through a filing cabinet before pulling out a few sheaths of paper.

"Fill this out, and I'll have an investigator out to talk to you in a few minutes." Taylor thanked her and took a seat in one of the leather chairs. The cracks pushed sharp edges of leather against her thighs, poking her skin through the thin pair of leggings she had chosen for the day. She read through the self-explanatory instructions (Please Read Carefully, Fill in X, etc) before skimming down to the Personal Information section. This part was easy. She scribbled through the paperwork, checking boxes and filling out what she knew. She had his address, written down, and jotted it into the appropriate box next to his name. Her heart twisted at the sight, so she moved down to Description of Report.

Now, Taylor began to sift through her recent memories. She had agreed to go to the hotel room... Knocked on purpose... She lifted a hand along the outside of her shirt to touch ribs still badly bruised. She stared at the empty Description box for minutes, until she was interrupted with a deep voice. "Here to file a report?" the officer across the lobby asked. She looked up, and something on his face changed her mind. It looked tired, bored, and she sensed that as soon as she said that she knocked on his door, the officer would dismiss the report. She pursed her lips and nodded. "Can I... Take this with me? There's a lot to write down, and I don't know if I'm ready to..." she trailed off, but the officer was already turning to leave. "Bring it in whenever you like. Have a nice day, ma'am," he tossed over his shoulder. Taylor thanked the secretary once more, and left the building.

When she got in her car, Taylor decided that she would fill the report out at home after the school day. There was plenty to occupy her mind until them. She tucked the paperwork into her schoolbag and left for class, anxious to show up despite the guaranteed tardy.
 
He stayed quiet, still, looking at those words, then back at the pictures. They proved nothing, except that he someone was watching his house. He could have called in an incident report to the police but he figured that would just lead toore questions, regardless of any previous dismissals against him.

Was someone planning to round every girl up that had been with him and press charges? He wasn't even violent with most of them, plenty of his escapades could testify that he hadn't hurt a single hair on their body. No, if something like that was happening, just the girls that he had played with would form together.

Placing the pictures back in the envelope, he placed them in a drawer, locking it and making a mental note to burn the contents when he got home. So what if he would be considered a man-whore. That would cause a lot of guys, both colleagues and students to revere him as a god, not that he wanted that kind of attention either.

Trying his best to put the pictures and message out of his mind, he went to work. Before he knew it, his alarm went off to get ready for practice, the lunch rush having passed without noticing. Grabbing his supply bag, he headed out to the field and started setting up drills, finishing just as the first girls were coming out of the locker rooms, some hundred yards away.

Immediately he knew something was off, they all stopped together and waited, grabbing each girl and pointing in his direction. Almost the entire team was there before Sally walked out and had them gather around, talking very animatedly with her hands. Finally the entire group began jogging towards the field and started getting ready, glances and whispers directed at him.

"What was that all about?" he asked as Sally walked up to him.

"There is a rumor going around that you were the one that got Jasmine pregnant and are now punishing her by replacing her. I told them I know that isn't true and have paperwork to back it up, but you know how these things go,x she said, taking a deep sigh before continuing. "They don't feel comfortable with you being around right now, at least until Jasmine can address the team, which won't be for a few days since she went home to her parents to deal with all this."

Stephen's mouth hung open, unsure what to say when in response. First the pictures and now this rumor. Someone was behind all this, trying to get back at him, all legal recourses being evaded for years. "What am I supposed to do? Just sit in my office all day? We have tryouts and a game coming up."

"Go home. Take this next week off. Get out of town for a bit until this all blows over," she said, leaning in before whispering, "and stay away from Taylor until it does. That'll just make things worse."

There was no point in arguing with her, he had learned that when they first met and she was technically her boss. Without a word, he snatched up his belongings and shoved then into his bag, anger clear as day on his face. The girls made sure to stay away from him and he was soon stalking across grass and concrete, to his office to grab the pictures.

When he got back into his car, he couldn't help it, he needed to get his anger out. So he yelled, as hard and loud as he could, hands beating on the steering wheel for nearly a minute. Turning the key, he eventually left, speeding through the campus until he was on the highway, heading home.

"Fuuuuuuuuuck!" he yelled, unable to keep his rage inside.
 
Taylor went straight home after labs. A friend on the soccer team had invited her to Monday Margaritas, not for the first time, and Taylor invented an excuse, not for the last time. She kept just under the speed limit, eyes narrowed to the road, only conscious of school parking lot, apartment parking lot.

Once she was in park, Taylor peeled sweaty hands from her steering wheel. She looked at her bag, the report peeking out, then grabbed the carrying strap, tugged it over the center console, and crawled out. She paced up the stairs to her apartment replaying the scenes of that night, picking it apart in search of a starting place for the report. She had decided at some point during the day, in the back of her mind, that she didn't want to include how she got there. "Staying the night in Mr. Torbel's hotel room" was a good enough place to start... with that in the statement, though, everyone would assume that it was willing. She traced herself back to that hotel room, then her own, then the bus and the game, searching for the moment he got his grip on her. While her mind wandered, her body continued the motions of coming home for another night alone- unpack back, take out dinner to thaw, put shoes away, etc. In her mind, she waded through the past week slowly, as if looking in as someone else.

His voice floated through her mind. "There had better be a new folder on my desk in the morning clearing her to play. Don't make me go to the AD Taylor."
There.
That's when he got her.

Taylor froze, halfway through folding laundry that had been sitting in her desk chair for a week. She dropped the shirt, tossed the rest of the laundry on top of it, and crossed back into the kitchen for the report.

Once she was back at her desk, Taylor scribbled pen-to-paper stream of consciousness. She recounted the demand for Carlie to play despite her injury, the threat to her job if she didn't go through with it, the scene in the training room after she did as she was told, and his subtle threats laced in his request to join him in his hotel room. She had to use pages from one of her schoolbooks to recount the events in his hotel room, and several times she had to stop to dab the teardrops falling on the paper, doing her best to keep them from bleeding. Her heart raced as she wrote, but once she finished, she sat back with a deep, full exhale.

Taylor felt a literal weight lift. She noted now how much this had occupied her mind, begun to tear her apart inside, and she let herself sit and cry in that desk chair for another forty minutes before she stood. She didn't bother to wipe tears that would likely keep flowing throughout the night. She took the report, slipped it back into its safe pocket of her backpack, then set out to make herself a cup of tea, curl up in bed, and watch movies for the rest of the night. She would file the report in the morning. Talk to the officer. But tonight, she was allowed to escape.
 
It was a small miracle he didn't get pulled over on his way home, that would have just been the cherry on top of the day. Pulling into his driveway, he wished he had a garage, so he could get in and out without being in view for whoever was watching him. He grabbed the folder and made his way inside, not daring to look around for a strange car with someone inside. That would come later when he had been home for a little bit, using his upstairs window as a vantage point.

For now, he closed the door behind him and went to his table, taking out the pictures again, laying them out in random orders. First thing he noticed was that there were really only two angles, one further down the street and one up the street, towards the direction he left for work. Going through them all, putting each in a pile according to the angle, he found that the overwhelming majority were taken from down the street, towards the cul-de-sac about ten or so houses down, which he never used. It made sense, someone was watching for this long they would notice his little routine and move to a spot that was more out of the way and less noticeable.

Doing some rough estimates based on what could be seen, he figured whoever was doing this was only a house or two away on the opposite side of the street. No way they would risk pulling up to his curb, blocking his driveway to take these pictures. Now he knew what to look for and in which direction, going upstairs and into his closet, pulling out his camera. It wasn't very good next to professional's, but it had a zooming lens on it and it would do the trick. Pulling out the tri-pod next, he set it up on next to his window, blinds and curtains pulled shut to keep the light out, and did his best to angle it according to his estimations. Now all he had to do was wait a couple hours, easier said than done.

Returning downstairs, he paced in the kitchen, absentmindedly chewing on one of his nails, more just for the action than damaging his nail. Twenty minutes passed and he poured himself a drink, trying to calm down his nerves and relax his body. Why now? There have been plenty of chances for them to do this before. Why, when I am about to get what I want out of Taylor? WHY?!

Grabbing his phone from the table, he went to his messages and clicked on her name but didn't do anything. Was she helping whoever this was? Is that why she was so cooperative last night, hoping to get some solid evidence against him with someone else watching? Shouldn't have kicked her, dumbass. An hour passed and he didn't know what to do. Ninety minutes and he was practically in the same position, the sky starting to darken with different colors as the sun began its retreat behind the horizon. Going up stairs next to his window, he very, very slowly pushed the far right side of the curtain left, opening up a decent sized portion for him to wiggle the camera into, seeing down the street. Focusing his lens, he noticed that there was a tree that prevented him seeing more than a few cars lengths, figuring it was the right position for the pictures. "I'll catch you," he whispered under his breath.

Making a cheap frozen dinner in the microwave, he sat and ate that, along with a couple more drinks. Cleaning up, he grabbed his phone and started typing, then stopped, remembering he had purchased a cheap phone for exactly this reason. Finding his plastic burner, he selected the one contact in the phone and sent three simple words to Taylor. "I need you." Hitting send, he placed it back in the drawer he kept it in, he walked over to his fireplace and pressed the button, a small flame leaping an inch into the air. Grabbing a few of the small logs he kept just to the right, he placed them on the rack and waited for the fire to take hold, then gathered up all the pictures and the envelope, watching them burn, making sure ever last scrap turned into ash.
 
The message came just as Taylor was finishing her first movie. A quarter of her tea sat, cold, on her nightstand, and she had bundled herself deep under a few layers of blankets. The burner phone had been left in her bag, but the volume was loud enough that she heard the default message tone from her bed. Confusion washed over her first. The sound was foreign, and it took a few moments until she remembered the little phone in her bag. She froze in her blankets, mind torn. Her instinct said go, better than another beating, but a voice spoke up, reminding her of the report that rested next to that phone.

Wouldn't hurt to at least check. She dragged herself out of bed, wrapping a smaller throw blanket around her as she padded down to the kitchen. Her bag sat on the floor, leaned up against the wall. She crouched down, slid the phone out of a side pocket, and flipped it open.

"I need you"

Goddamnit. She had just gotten herself out of this, away from him. She glanced down at the report, back to the message, and slipped the phone back into the bag. She stood up, then crouched down again and pulled the phone out. Taylor turned the volume down, then set the phone to Mute, and slipped it back into her bag before padding back to her bedroom. She would take the report to the station in the morning. And file for a restraining order, she thought with a heavy sigh. She pulled herself back into bed and buried herself under the blankets, letting the TV autoplay the next film.
 
He waited. And waited. An hour passed and he didn't hear the phone go off, nor a knock on the door. Alarm bells rang out inside his head, panic starting to sink in. Grabbing his keys, he quickly exited his house, locking the door, going to his car and opening the door. Looking to the spot where his camera was pointing, he just stared at a car roughly where he thought the pictures were taken from, not knowing if that was the perpetrator or just a normal car, always there. He took not of the make and model. Getting into the car, he turned it on and he slightly peeled out, stepping on the pedal a little too hard.

The drive to the school took twenty minutes but each car he passed he thought he saw the light bar of a police cruiser on top, "Get your shit together, man," he whispered under his breath. Pulling into the school, he made his way to the athletic building where his office was. Instead of going to his office, he went to Sally's and unlocked the door, slipping inside without anyone seeing him. Going to her computer, he looked through her documents until he found what he needed. It was the contact information for everyone who had gone to the last game, needed for insurance information in the event of an accident or other emergency. Scrolling down, he found Taylor's, writing down her address on a piece of paper and ripping it off the pad.

Back in his car, he entered the address into his GPS, throwing caution to the wind, and setting out for the short drive. He found a parking spot a little ways away, quickly walking the quarter mile and made his way around the building until he figured out which one was hers. Climbing the stairs, he made a concerted effort to take them slow, not wanting to cause anyone to look through their peephole and become a witness able to identify him. When he came to her door, he shook his hands by his side and then placed one thumb over the little glass piece, blocking her from seeing out. Rapping on the door three times, hard but not frantic, he waited, hoping beyond hope that this was the right place and they didn't have an old address on file.
 
Taylor woke from her half-sleep, Lilo and Stich playing in the background, to a rap at the door. She groaned as she pulled herself out of bed, leaving the blanket behind, and crossed to her bedroom door. Her mind searched for an answer for the question at the door- maintenance usually announced themselves (and came in, something that was a common complaint for students new to the complex), and she didn't have anything planned for another week. Madelyn could have stopped by, trying to convince her to come with for an after party.. but she'd hear girls giggling in the hallway, and it was silent. When she got to the door, she lifted to the balls of her feet and pressed her eye to the peephole in the door.

It was dark. She backed up, blinked, then looked again. Still dark.

Maybe management put something on her door, and announced their delivery. Coming to a satisfying conclusion, and a very specific expectation that no one would be on the other side of that door, she unlocked it and swung it open.
 
He waited, thinking maybe she wasn't home but then he could hear the soft sounds of footsteps coming closer. It was late, but not so late a visitor would be strange. The clank of the lock being undone, he coiled his muscles, ready to spring. When the door opened, he pushed it in and snatched at Taylor, grabbing her by the throat and squeezing, other hand over her mouth before she had a chance at making a sound. Thank god this was her place. Kicking the door closed, he pinned her against the wall after it was shut and put his face close to hers. "You just had to tell somebody, didn't you."

He pulled his hand back from her mouth and slapped her on the cheek, left to right, gripping her throat harder. "I thought we had an understanding. I thought we had a great time last night. I thought I could trust you, but looks like I was wrong. Now we have to do things the hard way."

He slapped her again, this time with the back of his hand, twisting her around so he was guiding her from behind, hand pressing so hard into her skin that it was dimpling around his fingers. Pushing her onward, he moved her over to the couch and sit her down, facing him once again. "Now I'm going to take my hand off your throat. Make a sound and you'll have a broken nose, understand me?"
 
Taylor's heart skipped a beat as soon as she saw who woke her. She opened her mouth to scream, but instead it gave him a wider target to silence her. Her eyebrows scrunched in horror as his hand wrapped around her throat and pushed her back inside, shutting the door behind him. The first wave of shock began to fade and she raised her hands to his wrist, pulling at his fingers with no results. In fact, she had to dig through her skin just to get a grip on him- his nails pressed deep into her skin. Then his breath, leaning in close.

"You just had to tell somebody, didn't you."

And then the blows. Tears sprang after the second, and her face flared bright red, burning against his hand.

How did he know? Her heart raced now and she glanced at the report. Had he been following her? Creeping behind while she cruised to the police station, eyes on her while she went in, and came out, with the paperwork. Back to campus, and probably fucking invited her over to keep her from filling it out. Distracting her. A rage began bubbling inside her, but it stopped at her throat, alongside her blood and oxygen.

The third slap brought black spots to the corners of her vision, and she scrambled to keep up with him as he pushed her to the couch. She whimpered and collapsed into it, eyes up at him like a deer in headlights. She nodded, not entirely certain whether to scream or keep silent for now.
 
He looked down at her, knowing his face was red with anger, adrenaline coursing through his veins, fueling him further into his rage. Reaching down, he undid his pants, flinging the belt apart with practiced precision, pulling it free of the loops. Laying it down next to Taylor, he doubled it over, working quickly with his free hand the best he could, until he had a nice hold of a makeshift leather paddle. Resting the looped end against her cheek, he slowly released his grip of her throat, feeling her skin loosen from beneath his nails as if he had formed a mold from her taught organ.

"Now, who did you talk to? How long have you been planning this? Trying to catch me like I wouldn't find out. Having them sit right outside my house like I wouldn't notice. They betrayed you Taylor. By giving me those pictures, they threw you under the bus to try and scare me. Yours was on top."

He brought his arm back and slammed the leather thong into her shoulder, the meaty part where it met the base of her neck. The snap of leather on soft skin echoed in the low ceilinged apartment. Grabbing a handful of her hair, he leaned down and got so close to her, one would think they were kissing if looking on from afar. "Tell me who you told and this won't hurt nearly as bad," he whispered.
 
Panic sent searing pain into Taylor's gut, like a lobbed spear sinking into its target, while she watched Stephen yank at his belt. Finally he'd turn her into just another statistic, another notch on his belt. Instead of freeing his cock, he folded the belt in half, then again. Her head swam, and she became suddenly aware of the dizziness sinking into her vision. Eyes crossed, then focused on the belt again, trying to keep herself as alert as she was able with his hand around her throat.

Then he let go. She took a shallow, shaky breath, and held it while she listened to his words. Her eyes fixed on his lips while they moved, reading whatever her mind couldn't decipher audibly to be certain she heard every word. His accusing tone stung, and filled her with fear, but this fear was quickly blurred with confusion. Them? Pictures? She had filled the report, but hadn't actually told the police anything.

He doesn't know.
He's right here, he'll find out if you don't tell him, and it'll be worse.
HE DOESN'T KNOW

Taylor gave a sharp cry of pain as the belt snapped through her thoughts. Her eyes snapped shut and she flinched back instinctively, which only allowed him to tug harder at her hair, pulling her close to him. She looked into his eyes, and felt all of her panic, uncertainty, and fear at once.

"The police," she said, without hesitation. "But I- I haven't told them anything yet, I went in to file a report yesterday and I couldn't do it so I brought the paperwork with me, it's- it's in my bag." Tears had begun to flow as she spoke, and now they ran freely down her cheeks as she realized that she had just given up her last chance of getting out of this.
 
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The welt was almost instant, visibly raised from the strike he had just delivered to her. Normally, he would have relished the sight of that, drank in the reddened skin, but her words made everything else dull to him. She had already gone to the police about him, even after he thought he had made some headway. Stupid stupid stupid! You always bite off more than you can chew.

His heart was racing, the veins in his neck pulsing enough that if she were to look hard enough, she could see it. Would she take it as a sign of weakness, fear, or pleasure? Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, held it for a few seconds, then exhaled. He repeated this a couple times to get his emotions and mind under control. Nothing good ever happened when someone got lost to those two inner demons.

"Go get them and bring them to me. When you come back, I want you to lie down on your stomach on this couch, clasping hands behind your back," he said, as even toned as he could, flexing his hand as a way to focus his rage into something.
 
Fire raced beneath the skin along her shoulder, like a fresh sunburn. She watched him, eyes on his before wandering across his face, down his body, trying to read him and maybe get a sense of just how much danger she was in. Steam nearly rose from his own flushed cheeks- Taylor had never seen him this angry, after seasons of bad calls and rigged games.

Then, he took a deep breath. And another one. And another one. And somehow this terrified Taylor more. Her hands clenched into fists in her lap. She watched jumpy muscles settle, the color slowly seep from his cheeks, all signs of a man unwilling to let his emotions ruin a good thing. Ideal in a partner, and a nightmare in a captor. She watched his measured breathing, then immediately scampered to do as he commanded. She shuffled to the backpack on the floor next to the living chair, slid the stapled papers out, and delivered them to him with her eyes fixed to the floor.

His movement, consistent and much more measured now, kept Taylor on edge. Her senses felt stronger, ever-vigilant in danger. The smell of his sweat as she passed by him, his slowed breathing and her own jagged breaths. She kept him in her peripheral vision while she laid, placed her hands behind her back, and gripped both of her own wrists. She took a deep breath in through her nose, and let it out through her mouth.
 
Grabbing the papers, he watched as Taylor did as he commanded, without hesitation, laying down and grasping her wrists like the good girl he knew lied beneath the surface. Nodding, he turned his attention to the police report she handed him.

His face remained stoic, eyes flitting back and forth between the various lines of personal information until he got to the part where she described what he had done to her. Pausing, he took a deep breath, calming his anger once again, and kept reading.

Stephen didn't care how long it took to read everything, then reread, making sure he took everything in. She was a very descriptive writer, though she left out his side of things, his words offering a small defense. She was truthful, saying how she had willingly gone to his room, but that wouldn't have mattered with the bruises and damage he had caused. Dumbass, shouldn't have punched her.

When he was finished, he took the papthe, turning them sideways before ripping them in half. Again and again until he couldn't tear them up any more. Letting them fall to the ground, he knelt on the floor, placing a hand an her back.

"Now why would you do such a stupid thing as to go to the police? Do you really think they can save you now? You're mine Taylor. Mine." Running his hand down her back, he skipped over her arms and planted his hand firmly on her ass, squeezing until he couldn't put any more pressure against her clothes.

"All. Mine."
 
By the time he finished reading, Taylor's breathing had steadied. Her eyes zoned in and out on the wooden floor, willing herself to keep alert in his presence. Finally, a jarring rrrrrip, and another, drew her eyes to his hands, where he shredded her only EXIT door out of this shit. She expected this, or flames, the moment she handed him the pages. Her eyes dropped to the floor again, narrowing on a knot in the wood panels as he spoke.

Goosebumps followed his touch down her back, up her arms, and to the base of her skull. This sent a violent shiver down her spine and her cheeks flushed. Of all the fucking reactions he could get out of her, that was easily one of the least desirable right now. She clenched her jaw and closed her eyes, then mumbled a quiet "Yes sir." Her hands twisted at her back, offering a release of the anxieties that rose in her stomach.
 
An apartment complex was the worst possible place to be in this situation. Even the biggest recluse could be his undoing. Sounds would travel at least to the floors above and below and any accompanying marks would just seal his fate, so he would have to be very careful. Red blemishes could be explained away as rough sex, but cries for help and for him to stop would overrule any such explanations.

Taking his shirt off, revealing his athletic chest, he took note that he needed to work on losing a few pounds and bring back his abs into the visible spectrum once again. Then his pants, dropping to the floor with a muffled thud, which he stepped out of while also taking off his shoes at the same time. Standing before her, she looked small beneath him, much smaller than she actually was, even though she was only a few inches shorter than him. Quietly, Stephen kneeled down facing her, letting his gaze sweep over her body several times, up and down, before he let out a satisfied breath of air.

"You are very quite beautiful Taylor. How you haven't locked someone down for yourself is beyond me, but I, for one, am glad you didn't."

Tracing his fingertips lightly down her exposed thighs, he watches as her skin reacted instinctually to the light skin on skin contact. Small goosebumps formed behind his fingers slowly, before a wave of them extended out in every direction. Smiling, he bent forward and placed a kiss right in the middle of where her hamstring was, firm yet gentle. Then another, slightly higher, followed by three more, each moving higher up her leg until he met the fabric of her bottoms. In her current position, the bottom of her ass was tantalizingly close to being revealed, sending a wave of pleasure and excitement through his body, even though he had already seen it in the hotel. Something about the way humans hid their bodies behind these small, thin pieces of clothing, yet could be so tempting, fascinated him.

"Now, sit up, ass on the edge of the couch and lean all the way back. Spread your legs and I'll give you that which you have desired," he said in a clearly commanding voice, yet no louder than what a normal conversation would be.
 
She waited with baited breath when Stephen pulled away from her, listening carefully for signs of an incoming blow. She heard fabric drop to the floor and her heart sank with it. For a moment, Taylor thought about begging. Her stomach twisted as the scene played out in her head- turning to face him, slipping off the couch to drop to her knees in front of him, hands clasped in her lap. The word "please" would slip from her lips as willingly as a dog giving up a fresh steak. She would choke on her words, "I won't tell a soul, I swear, just please let me go."

But Taylor knew that would not stop him. In fact, it may only give him reason to gag her. She was keenly aware of how thin these apartment walls were- cheap complex housing- and a part of her continued to hold onto the hope that she could use that to her advantage. For now, his touch came back, sending jolts of energy up her thigh to buzz around her mind, burrowing into the pockets of fear that had taken root there. A small burst of energy shot out as he kissed her- she jumped, swaying forward against the couch to pull away. Taylor pulled a breath in, then leaned back into another kiss, higher this time. The gentle nature of these kisses sent her anxiety tilting between loud alarm bells and an oncoming sense of calmness. There was kindness in them, and kindness against her skin, but there was also a hungry, patient lust just beneath the surface.

Her toes curled, a sort of unconscious flexing in preparation for what was to come, but then he pulled back again. Her skin almost felt cold without his breath against it, and Taylor shoved that thought to the back of her mind where it would burrow and take seed.

For a few seconds, she did not move. Then Taylor did as she was told, slowly, with her eyes cast downward. She kept herself fully clothed, some part of her still grasping onto the idea that she would get away from this unscathed. She wiggled her hips and inched her ass to the edge of the couch then leaned back so that her head sunk into the cushion. She spread her legs as if taking up a seat in a waiting room, trying to keep strangers from sitting next to her. In this position she trembled and finally let her eyes rise to meet his.
 
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