Author's Note: this story is posted to Literotica for the purpose of entertainment and feedback. I do not give content or trigger warnings, proceed at your own risk. Anything that has more than one chapter will be considered slow burn by this site's standards, but i usually post quickly.
***
I'm dreaming of floating through a deep purple sky sparkling with stars and the cloud beneath me is so warm it makes me wiggle down deeper into it. The cloud moans. I stop wiggling, confused. Clouds don't moan. Maybe that was thunder?
The dream drifts away as I realize there is thunder- and it's inside my head. I try to open my eyes, but they're gummed together with sleep and my mouth feels like it's been stuffed with packing peanuts. The ridiculously soft mattress under me moves, and the heavy weight on my hips tightens.
"Morning, Henny Penny." I barely recognize Damien's voice, low and rough with sleep. He buries his face in my tangled hair and squeezes me again, purring like a big cat. "Mmmmm. You smell like blueberries. I'm going to tell Dave to make us blueberry waffles."
Well, that's a new one. The last guy I woke up next to had stretched, scratched, passed gas and then bolted after leaving my toilet seat up. He certainly hadn't casually declared breakfast plans.
"Damien."
"Hmmm?" Muffled by my hair and the pillow, I feel him respond more than hear him.
"Let me up." I push at his arm and he reluctantly flops over on the king size bed. He's on top of the covers, fully clothed, but I somehow feel like we've been more intimate than any bed partner I've ever had before. Pushing the comforter off, I rush to the bathroom.
Darren's shirt hangs down to my thighs but it's narrow cut makes it tight enough that I blush at my reflection. My nipples show clearly through the thin white cotton, and anyone could make out the fluffy clouds and rainbows on my bikini briefs. I look around the bathroom fruitlessly for my clothes but I must have taken them off in the bedroom.
"Stupid." I mutter to myself. There's a packaged toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste on the counter, and I brush my teeth violently, berating myself in my head. I use the facilities and splash water on my face, slurping it up from my palms to try to ease the lingering headache. My hair is hopeless, a tangled mess around my shoulders that no amount of finger combing is going to help.
Hoping Damien has fallen back asleep, I peek out of the bathroom to find an empty bed. My clothes are laid neatly across the accent chair in the corner, with my sneakers tucked underneath. I get dressed quickly and follow my nose towards the empty kitchen.
