A/N: Hi guys here's the second and last (smutty, but hopefully also somewhat romantic) chapter, finally!
Karlie tops here, but personally I'm a firm believer that they switch and I think Taylor's Rep lyrics back this up somewhat...Anyway, I love Top!Taylor, I'd love to write her someday, so send me prompts for that if you want!
Before anyone says anything, yes, Taylor calls Karlie "Sir" in this, we're doing titles now. It's Sir and Princess. I kinda like the gender-fuck of calling a woman Sir and besides, Boyfriend Karlie™ AmIrite, ladies?
As usual I ask you to please not read this if you don't like fanfiction about real people, but an extra stern warning on this since it includes sexual content in reference to actual individuals and all that...Please and thank you!
TW: Brief mentions of anxiety, stalkers and general unease around the Piano Incident™ at the Nashville Show...Crude language, (very light) BDSM-elements and um, smut in general...I guess....?
This hasn't been beta-read so it's all my fault lol
--
Taylor doesn't spend much time in her Nashville home these days seeing as her and Karlie prefer to think of their New York apartment as homebase. She's kept the other houses around the country mostly because she can and because having the luxury of staying in comfort when travelling as frequently as she does is convenient.
She's never actually given the matter much thought and it's not until she steps inside that the singer becomes aware just how unfamiliar the four walls around her have come to feel since she was here last.
She'd assured James and the others she'd be fine going in for the night on her own, but as she steps into the quiet residence a wave of unease hits her. The house is just a little too dark, too cold...There was a time, – before Karlie – when Taylor spent most of her time here and now it doesn't feel like home the way it used to.
Weird, she thinks to herself as she turns on the light to dispel at least most of the feeling, Karlie should've made it here long before me...
As she kicks off her high-heeled shoes she tries to ignore that – for the briefest of moments – her mind flashes back to the stage, where she sits at the piano, her back turned to approaching footsteps.
Imagined, she reminds herself sternly, they were nothing more than a product of her mind, this time...
Hugging herself tightly (maybe to keep the cold at bay, or perhaps the onset of sudden, unpleasant thoughts) Taylor walks hurriedly down the hall towards the stairs, deciding to wait for her girlfriend upstairs.
This isn't exactly the welcome she'd been expecting, but since it is technically her house maybe she should be the one to welcome others into her bedroom, anyway?
Others...? She almost laughs at the notion of anyone but Karlie being welcome in there, but as soon as she puts her foot on the upper landing any trace of amusement dies in her throat.
On the table in the dim hallway there is an assortment of white candles, all lit and casting beautiful, shadowy light on the brightly painted walls. The nervous chuckle that almost found its way out of Taylor's mouth on orders from her anxious brain melts into a genuine, elated smile, Karlie.
I'll be waiting in your bed...She kept her word. Of course she did, she always does.
When she all but bursts into the bedroom Taylor's met by a blonde head poking out from the opening of what is clearly a fort built out of sheets.
