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Debauchery on Campus (Chynya x lilbreadstick16)

Taylor sat, alternating between small sips of her drink and chewing on her lip to keep her mind occupied while she watched the movie. It was a pretty common one for horror movie fans, so she had most of the main plot points memorized- get to the party, read the book, shit goes sideways, etc. She watched distantly, much more of her focus turning to his words. Another sip warmed her against his cold, but not unkind, words.

"Respect is earned," what have I done to lose respect, warrant such.. disrespect... She turned her eyes to him a moment, the drink swishing in his hand, then back to the TV. The image was far too casual for her comfort. Taylor took a small breath in... out... then let the smile slip back onto her lips, small but visible. "You came pretty close to guessing one of my favorite drinks," she said quietly. Her eyes held to the TV, but she picked up her voice a bit more to be heard over it. "I started drinking when I was 15, and the first drink I fixed myself was a rum and Coke." Then she went silent again and took another drink.
 
His words didn't elicit a response from her, instead she mentioned the drink he chose for her. "I'll remember that and have rum for you next time. Thank you for that." He downed the rest of his drink and got up, pouring another for himself, looking over at Taylor and seeing she still had a ways to go on hers.

Walking back to the couch, he stayed standing while he took another drink. "The military does the same thing, you know, but it's ok for them since it's the government. Doesn't matter how good of a person, how well off or kind you are. Their job is to break your will down in training, so they can rebuild you into what they want. Why shouldn't we be able to do that with potential partners?"

He continued like he there hadn't been any time in-between. "We all have to follow the rules of whoever decides such things. Some things make sense, but others it's just arbitrarily changing things that have been done for hundreds of years that never hurt anyone. Take puberty for example. Why do our bodies naturally go through these changes, reproductive systems going into overdrive as young as eleven, yet we are told that sex is bad until we turn eighteen, or in some cases, until we get married in our twenties?"

Taking a another drink, he was on a path to make a point and nothing was going to stop him. "Mind you, I am not saying an adult should be allowed to have sex with kids those ages, that is one change I can agree with. But kids that age? Why isn't it ok for them to experiment with what their bodies are naturally trying to get them to do? We coddle our children today, sheltering them from the work. By the time they were fifteen, most were taking care of the entire family farm while their father was out hunting or trading. Or dead. They were practically adults before they would be allowed to have a driver's license in today's world. Makes no god damn sense."

He paused and took a deep breath, realizing he had been getting worked up. "Do you understand what I am getting at though?"
 
Taylor nodded, the chill creeping into her spine once again. Her eyes glazed over, fixed on the TV, while she listened to his speech. She agreed with most of it, but she wouldn't admit it. To train a partner was something entirely different... it was almost as if he saw her as property, or a prize to be obtained, and then sculpted. She shivered once at the thought, and took a deep drink. The whiskey again raced down to her stomach, where it whispered sweet falsehoods of safety. "Yes, sir," she said, sure to be loud enough to be heard.

She shifted in her seat, switching one leg out to sit on the other, and took another deep drink. She swirled the little bit remaining counterclockwise, watching the tiny dark waves in the glass. Someone screamed in the movie, and her eyes refocused.

After a few moments, she spoke again, quieter. "I... I'm sorry I tried to run." Then, holding back a smile at the absurdity of the statement, "...and hit you with an alarm clock."
 
He could only sigh, head dropping down to hang, eyes closed and shaking his head. Setting down his drink, he took a couple steps over, leaning down to place his hands on the armrests of the loveseat, before crouching down to get eye level with her.

"No you're not. And don't ever lie to me again," he said, edge returning to his voice, his fingers digging into the faux leather as he balled his fists. "I have been honest with you about everything. I know who and what I am, I expect the same from you. You don't want to be here, you wish you could have found something heavier than the clock to hit me with. Hell, you probably wish I was dead right now. Don't tell me what you think I want to hear. I'll never punish you for telling the truth."

Standing back up, he walked back over to his spot on the couch and flopped down, grabbing his drink after he was done rocking from the momentum. He looked down into his glass, scowling, anger rising within him.

"You may leave," he said, downing the rest of his drink and leaning his head back, eyes glazing over as he made the motion of watching the movie, but staring off into space.
 
She froze as he dropped down to her level. The movie became more irrelevant than ever as she attached her full attention to his words, scanning for each threat or command. Her own hands balled into fists in her lap, watching the TV until he finally stood again and Taylor released the breath she had been holding. Fuck.

She waited, tense, for his next movement or command. Instead, an.. offer. Taylor furrowed her brows and kept her eyes on the TV as she attempted to deconstruct this offer. Was it a threat? A genuine offer? Temporary or permanent? A challenge, or test? The alcohol did nothing to help her interpret this, so she chose the first thing that came to mind- act on instinct.

Taylor raised her glass to her lips, tipped it back, and drained it. Then she slipped carefully off the couch, crossed to the kitchen, and took hold of the whiskey bottle. The neck tapped against the edge of her glass with a gentle clink and she filled the glass a third of the way full. Then she turned to the fridge, tugged open the door, and grabbed another Coke. The crack of the tab echoed in the kitchen and she poured carefully, watching the foam rise and slow at the edge of the glass. Then she crossed through the kitchen again and slipped back onto the loveseat, this time tucking both legs beneath her to tune back into the movie.
 
When she got up, he let out a little sigh, waiting to hear the front door open and close as quickly as possible. Instead, he was greeted with the sound of glass on glass, followed by liquid pouring and a fresh can of coke being opened. His eyes snapped wide, slowly turning around to watch her, tracking her path back to the couch.

Was she playing at something? Did she just think he would punish her more if she left? Had she told anyone where she was? Or did she have a wire or was recording this all on her phone?

Her phone!

Springing up to his feet, he was in front of her before the couch finished squeaking. "Phone,x he said, one simple word, holding out his hand in front of her, desperately trying to keep the anger out of his voice and off his face.

Shit, did I just fuck up?
 
No more than a few minutes after she had sat down, Stephen was in front of her, ready to take what he wanted. She jumped back, splashing a bit of her drink over the rim of the cup and onto the grey t-shirt she wore. She shrunk back into her seat under his gaze and took one hand off the cup to squeeze into her pocket. The phone shimmied out with encouragement, and with wide eyes Taylor placed the cell phone into his open palm. She kept silent, assuming one-word commands need nothing more than obedience. Her mouth had begun to go dry but she dared not take a drink, or move, until he spoke again. The anger wasn't clear, but it was visible beneath the surface. It bubbled under his skin like a broth, foaming and broiling and hungry to burn anything it touches. She took short, shallow breaths and this time held her eyes to his, scared but inquisitive.

A million things raced through her mind that he may do with it- the first that sent a wave of panic through her was the fear that he may text her contacts, or take pictures of her, or- Her hand twitched to take it back, but she knew it would be a mistake to put up another fight.

Fuck.

It had been impulse, reacting in instinctive fear, and now she feared that she would regret that simple decision for the rest of her life.
 
He didn't even seem to notice that she had flinched back or spilled her drink, instead waiting as she fumbled in her pocket, producing it shortly after and placing it in his waiting hand. His right eyebrow raised when she flinched, like she was going to take it back, bit let it go when she pulled back.

Pressing the power button, he was greeted with a lock screen with a pattern required. He looked at the bottom the at the top, any indication she might be recording the audio, but there was none. "Who'd you tell? I know you don't really want to leave here, so the only reason I can think why you would stay is because you're trying to get evidence. Open your phone."

He flipped the phone around, gripping the edges tightly so she wouldn't be able to easily grab it. The pattern lock pulsed every few moments with light. It would have upset him if she hadn't had a lock on her phone, only stupid people did that these days. Stephen's heartbeat pounded in his chest, the alcohol helping to feel it everywhere, especially in his hands, trying not to shake.
 
Taylor trembled in front of him, and tears pricked at the back of her eyes. She swallowed hard, gripped her drink in one hand, and leaned forward to put her password in quickly. Then it occurred to her that he might see the police department in her phone. Another wave of panic washed over her and she pushed her drink to her lips, the glass knocking against her teeth for a moment before she sipped on liquor and soda.

After a few deep breaths, she looked up at him with pleading eyes. "I didn't tell anyone, I haven't broken any rules.." She pushed the words out of her mouth with desperation, knowing that she already had some sort of punishment in store, likely to get another one just for.. what, bringing her phone? She twisted the glass in her hands, turning it in circles and watching the drink swirl around once again. He was angry, and she knew the more words she spoke, the easier it would be to infuriate him further.

Stupid, fucking stupid. Giving up the one thing that could have gotten her out. If he went too far, if she changed her mind, if.. Her mind had settled under the gentle intoxication of whiskey, and she took another drink to sooth herself more.
 
Once the password was entered, he immediately made his way to her text messages, swing that she had indeed not sent anything since replying to him to come over. He looked through the next few people and saw that she had at least not texted anyone. Still, she could have told someone verbally, given instructions that if she wasn't back at a certain time to call the police.

Police. His next move was to check her outgoing calls, all of them to names he recognized from bothbthe team and other athletes. Some he didn't recognize but she hadn't called them since the hotel. Again, nothing incriminating bit she could have went there in person. Then he remembered an article he read a while back.

Navigating to Google Maps, he opened up the app and looked for the travel summary, usually it was the last month. Zooming in, he focused on the darkest lines, indicating the most recent and he didn't see anything veering off from the campus once they had returned from their trip. Still, she could have went to someone at the school, but he figured they would have contacted him immediately, which was what had happened in the past.

"Had to make sure," he said, putting the phone in his pocket, walking over to the table with the prepaid phones, grabbing one off the charger. Walking back to his spot on the couch, he tossed her the cheap plastic phone and sat back down. "You can have your phone back when you leave. I have programmed my number in there that goes to the other phone over there. You will carry that on you wherever you go and answer it immediately. Now, let's finish this movie."
 
She watched his eyes flickering through her phone, one of her few sacred private spaces. His eyes skittered back and forth, and his fingers followed close behind moving from one thing to the next. When he finally leaned back, Taylor watched the phone slip down into his pocket with wilting hope. While he crossed to the table, she reflected on the regret that now overwhelmed her. Regret that she didn't skip class to file a report, or take it to the dean, regret that she came here, gave him her phone, and now regret that she had begun drinking. The whiskey called louder after each sip, and by the time the movie drew to a close, Taylor's mind had a comfortable fuzz floating through it and she held an empty glass against her chest. At some point she had leaned her head onto her shoulder, and now she sat up straighter, turning back to Stephen with questioning eyes, a "Now, what?"
 
The movie was a borefest and he had to actively keep himself from falling asleep, but it was the act that kept him going, the feel of a normal date with Taylor. A direct contrast to their last interactions.

Looking over at her, he smiled and put on the soft expression he used when anger wasn't spilling over. "What would you like to do? There's more alcohol, I might have some vodka or something else if you don't like whiskey. Have a deck of cards or we could watch another movie and get some popcorn out."

He paused a few moments, before leaning forward, elbows on knees, hands pressed together. "What do you want out of all this Taylor?"
 
"I want to go home," was what she wanted to say, but "I don't know," is what slipped out. She looked at the glass in her hands, then up to him. "I don't know," she said again, quieter. She had come over out of fear of the punishment that may come if she didn't, but stayed for the hospitality that he had treated her with. She had been enjoying herself up until the phone incident, but now her gut twisted and pleaded to go home. She shook her head and leaned back.

This motion made her head spin and she realized how much both drinks had gotten to her. She closed her eyes. "Can.. I stay here tonight? I guess I drank more than I meant to." She sighed, and hoped he wouldn't take this as an intrusion. In fact, part of her wanted this to appease him. Maybe if she.. budged a little, gave him more, he'd be kinder.. Back to the man that opened the door the second time.
 
It was sort of a trap question. All she had experienced from him so far was brutality in the hotel room and he just a smidge of the soft-hearted side of him. It was true that the brutal side was what governed him most days, but he truly believed if he found his unicorn, that it wouldn't have to be that way. After the initial training of course. He looked at her, studying her face as he responded, the question hanging in the air for a minute.

"Yes, you can sleep in the spare room up stairs. That bed hasn't been used in quite some time, an old high school friend. Should be everything you need in there and the bathroom is right next to it. My room will be across the hall, if you need anything."

He got up, downing the last little bits of his whiskey mix, most of it water from melted ice cubes. Refilling his cup with ice, whiskey and coke, he took a small sip. "Would you like another drink then? Maybe something to snack on, not sure if you've eaten tonight. Wouldn't want to see you get sick." Reverting back to the nurturing tone and body language came naturally to him, having a little play thing for the better part of eight months a few years ago, he got fairly good at it, though he never wanted kids of his own, this was as close as he wanted to get.
 
She tensed when he didn't reply immediately. But his answer was gentle, kind, and clear. Not even a couch, she gets a whole bed to herself. She nodded, watching him cross to the kitchen again. At his inquiries, she realized that hunger had been building for hours. Now, there was a dull ache in her stomach and she stood, wobbled slightly, then followed him into the kitchen.

Standing in the warm yellow glow of kitchen lights, drink in hand, Stephen looked much less threatening. The normalness that he had been trying to attain settled down around her, and she hesitantly let go of the tension that she had held between them since arrival. "Eating would probably be a good idea. I didn't realize I'm drinking on an empty stomach too." She set the glass down on the counter and rubbed the back of her neck before following his motions and fixing herself a third drink, this one much lighter than the last. She left it on the counter, though, and decided to wait for her drink until she had settled her stomach.
 
"Well, if I would have known you hadn't eaten, I would have made you something, I apologize for not asking earlier. Homemade cheeseburger alright with you? I need to go to the store soon to stock up again, but its what I had tonight," he looked over at the table, realizing he had left a small portion sitting on the table from his earlier dinner. Walking over, he grabbed the plate and dumped the food into the trash and put the plate into the dishwasher, before grabbing out a pan and the ingredients for the food, not waiting for her to say yes or no.

Butter in pan, patty in butter, dash of salt and pepper, and then bun crisping on the outer rim. It was methodical, cooking always being something he could do the calm himself, almost going into a zen like state. "Plates are above the sink, to the left," he said, not taking his eyes off the food cooking, watching for signs to be flipped, which took a moment longer. Placing the cheese on the now cooked side, he grabbed a couple slices of onion and a thin slice of tomato. "Cooking relaxes me, lets my mind wander. For some people, its painting or drawing, playing sports, which used to be another way for me but that is in the past. For some its camping and fishing out in nature, which is nice mind you, but right here, in the kitchen...I just feel like this is my little space, where everything is under control. Anything goes wrong, burn a piece of bread, over cook chicken...nobody is to blame except me..."

He trailed off, lost in his own thoughts as the burger finished and he started piling everything together, grabbing the bottom half of the bun, placing the stacked burger on it, then topping it off with the other half of the bun. Holding it out to Taylor, he smiled, proud to display his creation, hoping she would like it.
 
"That sounds really good," she said, giving him a small smile. It was like he became a different person, shifting through the kitchen and following the steps that he had so clearly memorized. Maybe even muscle memory, leading him through each movement. She watched his hands, careful but quick and precise, and the muscles in his arms jumping as he lifted the pan. Her eyes ran up to watch the muscles of his shoulders, shifting under his shirt, and she stopped herself there. Instead, she circled around to the sink and reached up for a plate. She moved to stand next to him, keeping enough distance to pull back at a moment's notice if needed.

As Stephen spoke, he again displayed a surprisingly soft side to him. She smiled up at him when he presented the meal. "Thank you, it looks fantastic." She held out her plate, taking the burger on it before picking up her glass and taking it with her to the table. She took a small sip as she sat down, then lifted the burger, careful not to make a mess, then took a large bite.

She was quickly overwhelmed with the the comforting, nostalgic tastes of a home-cooked burger. It was juicy, cooked perfectly through, and the vegetables held crisp in the toasted bun. It took her a minute to finish chewing, then she turned back to him with another smile. "Well the work you've put in shows. This is incredible."
 
He couldn't help but smile at her reaction, stepping up beside her as she looked at him, placing his hands on her shoulders and started massaging her muscles. His thumbs were down by her spine, pushing into either side while his fingers scrunched and released, kneading the meaty part between her neck and shoulder blades. "Thank you, I am glad you like it. You'll have to tell me your favorite dish and I'll try to do it justice." He didn't want to make her too uncomfortable at the moment, there would be plenty of time for that later, so he just simply moved to one of the other chairs, fingers trailing down her arm, falling down to his side as he sat down.

After a few minutes, he yawned and finished his drink, knowing that if he had much more, he'd risk falling asleep before he could have some fun with her. Heading into the kitchen, he dumped the ice into the sink and placed the cup into the dishwasher, grabbed a detergent pod from under the sink, and then closed it and set it to wash. Taylor's plate could be washed in the sink, he just wanted to get the already dirty dishes going. "Well, you're free to stay down here and watch some TV, but I think I am going to head to bed. Don't stay up too late though, you have classes tomorrow."

Tomorrow was Friday and they were returning to practice, which would require a team meeting about the upcoming tryouts and the girls needed to know they were not going to be replacing anyone else, just Jasmine. It probably wouldn't go well, everyone liking the Junior, one of the best players on the team, but that's what she gets for fucking without protection while playing for the school. Yawning again, he climbed the stairs, leaving her to finish her burger, a few boards creaking as he made it to the short hallway and into his room. He closed the door, an audible click ringing out, but no second one denoting a lock, due to there not being any on his doors on purpose. Laying down, he put his hands behind his head and waited.
 
She pulled into herself at his touch, but was eased out of it with the massaging of his hands, and Taylor let out a very soft sigh. She blushed a light rose, then turned back to her dinner, occupying herself to redirect her thoughts. She looked up as he stood, a few bites remaining, and watched him tidy up. She disliked the way her eyes seemed to always drift toward him.

"Thank you," she said, blushing again in being caught watching him. "I won't." She dropped her eyes after that, and listened to him leave while she finished her meal. She took her plate to the sink, washed it with the things still laid out, then took her drink with her to find the spare bedroom.

She winced at the creaking of the stairs, still wary of his grip on her, then stood at the end of a hallway, facing several doors. She pursed her lips, glanced between them, and realized that he had never told her which room was the spare. She did what she always did. Taylor closed her eyes, took a quick breath, and one step to her right. She knocked twice, then cracked open the door.
 
It seemed like an agonizingly slow wait, tried counting out the minutes by his heartbeat, but he quickly lost track due to it speeding up and slowing down at random, with his thoughts. He was about to get up and check on her when he heard the creak of stairs and he froze, holding his breath. He couldn't tell where she was going, her footsteps too soft to hear through the wall, but he nearly jumped when she knocked on his door, a crack appearing a moment later.

He was suddenly aware that he was still fully clothed, probably an odd sight to see in one's own bedroom, laying in the dark with typical spring wear on. "Wha-" he started, before forming an idea, one born purely out of being surprised by her a couple times. Sitting up, he took off his shirt and tossed it in the laundry hamper, his fit body barely illuminated by the little bit of light that was coming through the doorway. "You are full of surprises tonight, Taylor."
 
Taylor jumped at the voice that bounced off the walls of a room she had hoped to be empty. Her cheeks immediately flushed, but she opened the door wide enough to put one foot in. She looked up at Stephen, unsurprised but nonetheless embarrassed to see that he was shirtless (and god-knows-what-else-less), and dropped her eyes to the ground.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't know which one was the spare so I just guessed, I shouldn't have just barged in," she stammered as she took that same step, backward now. Her heart jumped and her stomach flipped at the sight of him, and she could feel the blush creeping all the way to the tips of her ears.
 
He saw her take the step back and he hesitated for a moment, then regained his composure. "I see. It's across the wall, the one on the right when you turn around," disappointment evident on both his face and in his voice. How stupid could he be to think she was actually going to come to his room willingly for anything extra-curricular. He flopped back on the bed and tugged at his pants, kicking them off and not caring where they landed, he would pick them up in the morning. Crawling underneath the top blanket, which was rather thin and wouldn't provide much warmth in the winter, he turned onto his side, away from the door and closed his eyes.

"Please close the door before you leave, thank you," he said, barely more than a whisper but audible. He had gotten his hopes up before and been let down, desperately not wanting to feel that pain again. Inside, his stomach churned, a small voice laughing in the back of his mind, as if tormenting him for not being able to find love.
 
Taylor paused. He sounded hurt, and when she raised her eyes to meet his she watched that suave composure melt. She frowned, then quietly slipped out of the room, careful to turn the knob before she shut the door to keep from making too much noise. She padded down the hall to the next door, clicked it open quietly, and slipped inside. She didn't bother to undress- just stepped out of her shoes and crawled beneath the covers.

For twenty minutes images of the horror movie, couples with those of Stephen either from tonight, or their first.. encounter, flashed through her mind. No matter what she tried, her mind refused to settle, at least until it settled upon some memory or another of him. One may be the first genuine smile he gave her, another the kick he had delivered to her stomach, and the next a memory of last year's tryouts. She flipped and twisted in the sheets in an effort to escape these, until her patience ceased. She threw back the blanket and sat up in bed, staring at a spot on the carpet. She couldn't just walk back in there. Nor could she lie here tossing the entire night. Taylor stood, wrapped herself in the blanket, and shuffled to the door.

The hallway seemed twice as long, and the house twice as quiet. About forty minutes had passed now since she had left this room, and now Taylor reached for the knob carefully. She twisted it slowly, listened to softened clicks until the knob stopped. Then she gently pushed the door open, slipped inside, and closed it in the same manner.
 
When the door closed, he reached into his pocket and took her phone out, followed by his. He hadn't meant to keep it this long, but he shoo'd away any protestations his mind made. Tapping his phone, he went to alarms and set one for three hours from now, figuring that would be plenty of time for her to fall asleep, as well as a small nap for himself. Returning to his attempt to fall asleep, he rolled to his right side and pulled up a pillow underneath his neck.

It wasn't long before he was snoring lightly, the darkness returning, but this time, he could feel Taylors presence in his not-dream. She seemed to be close but he couldn't see her, like he was blind and deaf, yet had a sixth sense. Sticking out his imaginary hands, he moved, or what could be construed as moving in this place, forward, swinging out in front of him to find her. All of a sudden, he felt the sensation that he was falling down a deep hole, that feeling in his stomach of being on a rollercoaster hit him hard. When he smacked into the ground, his vision went all white, brightness replacing what had been dark.

And there he stayed, surrounded by blinding lights, stuck in hell.
 
She watched him shift in the dark, and assumed he was asleep as he hadn't said a word when she entered. Taylor pulled the blanket tighter around herself, then crossed silently to the bed. She stood at the edge a moment, looking for traces of cruelty on a peaceful face while he slept. The Stephen lying in front of her now looked innocent enough to cry when animals die in a documentary. She smiled.

The sheets were cool, and Taylor protected herself from them with her own blanket. She tightened it around herself as she pulled herself into the bed, tugged extra blankets on top, and rolled onto her side, facing away from him. She was careful not to touch him when she crawled in, both because of her own anxieties and the fear that the slightest movement would wake him. Like this, though, next to his sleeping body, curled in sheets and blankets warming quickly with her body heat, Taylor finally found peace enough to sleep.
 
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