Temporary Secretary

Part 37

4 May 1981

6:00am Monday

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You awoke unhappily to an alarm beeping at you.

An unfamiliar one at that... yet waking you all the same.

You pulled the pillow over your head, groaning in hatred. You were never a morning person, but now more than ever, you couldn't function without a great amount of rest, your energy being more than drained at the slightest push.

But it wasn't yours, the pillow. Seemingly weighed down by another head.

You suddenly became cognisant of the heaviness and warmth of arms curled around your waist, also shifting at the disturbance.

You then realized where you were. Even after a night or two, you didn't regret it. In your groggy haze, you curled to him, nuzzling. He was very warm. Paul welcomed it, sighing. Didn't stop the alarm though.

"Damn it, I've got to go." Paul mumbled, resting his wrist across his forehead, very much begrudging, having to be awake and leave the warmth of the bed.

Your hands groggily roamed over his body, even if you weren't fully awake enough to feel anything sexual.

"C'mon... stay, why don't you..." You murmured to him, sweet, not fully there yourself, wanting to cling to him indefinitely, no matter the cost.

"I hate Mondays." Paul grumbled bitterly still groggy, not processing your words as much as the touches.

"Turn off that dreaded alarm, Paulie." You cooed, not caring if you came off like a fool, something you'd never allow fully there. "My little bunny, stay in bed, lovely. I'll suck your prick when the sun is out and we finally rise."

He hummed deep at that, very enticing terms. You were kissing his neck, lazily, uncaring in your sleepy haze. He was basking in it in its entirety.

You'd practically been fucking on and off the entire weekend. But it was to make up for lost time. To think of how many times you'd fuck in a month before all this! One measly weekend was nothing. You had a lot to catch up on.

"They have you all week. For years and years. One morning late won't kill them..."

Your arms were wrapped around his shoulders, lazily, careless with your sentimentality. He was so lovely, and soft, warm to fuss over. He was simply wonderful for such a thing.

Paul sighed, enjoying it, but also in contempt he would have to go. He shut off the terrible alarm.

"You'll have me for years and years too." He said.

There was such a sweet quality to his voice, the genuineness that came through even through the sleepiness.

Your eyes were shut, and blocking out cognizance, but you couldn't avoid drifting from the tone, melting into the cozy bed, relaxing further.

You nuzzled closer to him, like he was a mother cat, the only time of day you had enough lack of reservation to.

Paul shifted, making you grumble. In the couple seconds of peace, you were already beginning to drift back under, aided by his warmth.

"You keep sleeping, I gotta go." Paul said, stern, as if speaking to a child.

You knew the gesture was less of chivalry, and more his preoccupation of your incubator status, treating you as if you were made of glass. You huffed in disapproval.

You attempted to keep your arms wrapped around him, but in your sleepy grip, he easily slipped out.

Your eyes remained shut, someplace between waking and sleep. If you were fully awake, you wouldn't be able to fall back under, but you were at the brink.