Morning

The alarm on the bedside table is loud and relentless and Kamala finds herself poking Doug in the ribs twice before he stirs.

"No..." he protests and tries to roll over and away from her but she isn't having any of it.

"You are not going to be late on your third day," she argues and nudges his head up. "Come on."

"How can you call five in the morning late," he complains and she giggles, running the flat of her palm along his chest, leaning in to nuzzle and kiss his neck. "Fuck them," he adds, yawning.

"You mean 'fuck the people who pay my huge pay check?'" she giggles some more.

"Exactly." He groans as he stretches his limbs, finally opening his eyes to look at her. "Besides..." he adds but immediately stops making his point as she's already spider-walking her fingers down his tummy, circling her nails in the golden hair briefly before brushing the tip of one finger softly along his length, hard and hot against her skin. There's an odd warmth unfurling in his gut as he realizes how well she's already come to read him.

"You'll look ridiculous like that, Dougie," she whispers and presses another kiss to his jaw, cupping her hand tenderly around his balls, giving them a teasing little squeeze. He doesn't say anything; just sighs appreciatively when she continues her silk soft ministrations, squeezing gently again.

"Want me to take care of that for you?" she breathes into his ear, smiling as she kisses his cheek, lingering on the stubble.

He hums, eyes sliding shut as he nods his agreement.

Moments later she's already snaking her way down his chest and over his stomach, butterfly kisses on his skin as she makes her way to his hard length, already throbbing in anticipation for her. She pauses between his legs, her hot breath against the tip of his cock sending a pang of longing to his groin. He squirms slightly, arching his hips a little closer to her mouth. She smiles at his obvious need, kissing his member ever so gently, eliciting a shuddery groan from deep within his chest. Teasing him with her tongue a little, she hears his breath hitch as it brushes the sensitive tissue of his frenulum.

"Please," he breathes. His eyes are still clamped shut, one hand gripping the bed sheet. "Please," he repeats, more insistent now, his hips straining upwards. There's a low growl as she takes him in her mouth, tongue swirling over his head as she swallows. He bucks his hips, pushing deeper until she feels him against the back of her throat. "Fuck, Kamala..." He takes a fistful of her hair as she works him, breathing loudly on every one of her strokes. She has no intention of bringing him off this way but she likes the heavy feel and salty taste of him in her mouth. When he's throbbing and groaning loudly she pulls away, a tiny cry of frustration escaping Doug as the warmth of Kamala's mouth leaves him. His hands reach for her, searching the space in front of him for any trace of her.

She laughs as she climbs up from between his legs, her hands running through the sparse hair on his chest as she straddles him. "Patience," she tuts, as his hips start rocking in anticipation, his cock rubbing against her slit. A louder grumble leaves him now, and he grabs her hips firmly. "Now, please," he groans. He opens his eyes to see her in her full glory, the lemony early morning light through the tall windows falling perfectly on her soft curves, her latte colored skin glowing. His hands wander up her sides to her breasts, kneading them gently, taking her nipples between two fingers. Kamala threw her head back, enjoying the jolt of electricity Doug's ministrations sent to her groin.

"Please," he repeated. She bends over to kiss his neck, running her tongue against the shell of his ear. "You want this baby?" she breaths into his ear, grinding her hips against his. He nods. "Hmmmm. I suppose I did say you shouldn't be late. And I'd hate to get you into even more trouble..." She takes his hand, placing his fingers in her slick wetness. "Fuck me, baby."

He groans again when she says the words and he lazily takes her rump in one hand, his cock in the other as he guides it inside her, muttering something unintelligible as the tip grazes against her heat. He hisses as he pushes in, eyes instantly slamming shut.

She really does like to see and hear him as he fucks her, likes to witness his growing abandon and the way his body takes over from his brain. She wraps her arm around his neck, pulling him tighter against her with every snap of his hips. His tempo ups soon enough, now that his only concern is his own climax, and she can feel his heart beating against her ribcage as she clings to him, her body pliant and accommodating. She smiles when he begins to utter a string of muttered curses, signalling he's getting close, a soft sheen of sweat under her fingers. The feel of him buried inside of her – bare and full and big – is more than enough for her, enjoying how he takes her along on a wicked, wet ride, his teeth angry on her collarbone, his breath heavy and hot on her skin.

He groans, once – twice; then pushes up from the bed and arches against her, followed by a handful of uncoordinated thrusts and a blur of wetness exploding inside of her. He growls out a curse when a final convulsion thunders through his body and he collapses back on the bed, breathing heavy, forehead slick and sweaty.

"Aah, fuck," he mumbles, coming to.

"Good?" she asks as she climbs off him, wondering why as it's obvious.

He doesn't answer, of course, and she smiles as she drags her nails lightly across the warm skin of his shoulder, snuggling against him.

"You really need to get up now, honey," she tries after a few minutes of comfortable silence, wondering if he's fallen asleep again. But he groans the second the words leave her mouth and he slides out from under her, cursing under his breath.

"Coffee?" she asks and gets out of the bed behind him, throwing one of his t-shirts over her head, making for a quick bathroom stop as he fiddles with the tap in the shower stall. When she returns she grabs a pair of panties from the chest of drawers and as he mutters a grumpy yes, she goes downstairs to fix some breakfast.

She puts on the toaster and coffee maker and stares out the window into the early morning hum of the city below her. Her work won't be for another couple of hours, but these first few days of living together have been a jumble of trying to find a routine that works for them both, in between the frantic hookups like lovesick teenagers. She giggles and color rushes to her cheeks when she remembers that coming home and going to bed the previous night had not meant getting any sleep.

"What are you giggling about?" he asks, coming up behind her, dressed in a suit. He hadn't bothered to tame his wayward curls - he was due for a haircut (at Kamala's request) later today anyway. She shrugs sheepishly as she silently hands him a mug of coffee, watching him walk out the balcony door to perch at the small table, sip in silence and read the news on his phone before his busy day begins. She smiles as she observes him, his handsome features backlit by the sun, wondering at how lucky she is to have him, and how natural this all feels already. She could get used to this.