The Other Woman |Charlie Barber x Reader|

~One Room Over~

Dry sheets rustle and scratch together as beams of light peer through the thin, cheap curtains covering up Charlie Barber's bedroom window. Outside, birds chirp and a leaf-blower roars obnoxiously in the distance, drowning out the hiss of tires of pavement as cars rumble by. Warmth envelopes the room, guided by the low hum of the small heater that had been working overtime for the crisp mornings.

Despite all of these sounds and distractions, the only one that gently pulls in your focus is that of a man's soft breathing from beside you. A low groan escapes your lips as your body stretches outwards to rid itself of sleep-coated muscle tension. Your fingers splay over the warmth of skin stretched taut over a strong, freckle-splattered chest. It rises and falls steadily beneath your hand, encouraging you to match its breathing pattern.

The two of you had stumbled home tipsy--on the borderline of drunk--last night. There hadn't been much action; just the drowsy brushing of teeth, stripping of clothes, and bodies hitting the mattress. Now you were entwined together, bare limbs touching in a way that was intimate but not sensual. You could have stayed like this forever, but the grumbling of your stomach alerts you that your body had other plans.

"Charlie," you murmur sleepily. "Wake up."

He inhales sharply through his nose, eyelashes fluttering as his legs stretch beneath the covers. When he hums, it is a deep and gravelly noise that you so adore. With the light streaming in, Charlie appears almost angelic. Plump, pink lips pouting together and swollen from sleep. Dark eyelashes against his cheeks matching the halo of hair strewn over his pillow. Freckles splatter his beautiful, sharp features, giving him the appearance of being carved from marble.

You chuckle softly as his dark eyes land on you. "Morning."

"Morning, Sweetheart." He mumbles, sleepy hands extending towards you.

You squeak in surprise as his strong arms pull you in, dragging you right on top of his chest. He presses a lazy kiss into your hairline, relishing in the sweet scent of your shampoo. Charlie hums at the thought. A shower might be nice; a chance to unwind under warm water. His hand slides over the curve of your waist, fingers tracing your skin, figuring he wouldn't mind lathering you up in soap.

"Any plans for today?" His eyes sink back shut as he breathes deeply, letting his muscles relax again.

You pout in response, thinking ahead to what the day could hold for you. "Are you busy?"

Charlie's fingers twitch against your skin. "No."

"Then I'll stay with you," you decide, smiling against his chest.

"We should shower," he voices his thoughts.

"Is that your way of telling me I smell?"

At this, he cracks an eye open. Charlie smiles softly and releases a chuckle that rumbles through his chest into yours. "No-" a yawn crinkles his features "-I just don't hate the idea of fucking you against the tiles."

That idea certainly wakes you up. You rest your chin against the muscle beneath his flesh, tilting your head playfully. "I want breakfast first."

"Hm, no." He mumbles, hands now trailing absentmindedly up and down your back. The feeling of your bare breasts pressing against his chest makes him shiver. "I think I'll keep you in my bed for a while."