@xoromilda
Early beams of winter sunlight kissed the young man’s temples as he laid in bed. He was barely covered. The sheets no longer covered half of his body, and his chest seemed to have drawn little blood. He groaned at the disturbance of light, his pupils dilating as he tried to open them. His eyes were heavy, as his head. The reek of liquor lingered in the bedroom he was in; which wasn’t his own. He pursed his lips, trying to come to senses. For the love of Merlin, where was he? Once his eyes managed to adjust he raised his hand to stop the single beam of light from entering his pupils. Bloody fucker, he thought. A crack in the curtains had awoken him from his slumber. His hand accidentally brushed along another being, and he remember.
A smug smile appeared on the man’s face and he leaned above the girl accompanying him in bed. He kissed her upper arm, stroked his fingers through her hair, brushed the tip of his nose along her defined jawline.
“And yet again we meet,” he snickered as Romilda woke by his touch. “In your bedroom.” He dropped himself back onto bed, stretched out as he watched the ceiling. “You can’t get enough of me, can you?” He was bathing in complacency and narcissism - enjoying the aftermath, no matter the fact he preferred the touch and attention of a man in secret.
