photograph / ln4

six

HE DID, in fact, stay the night. The next morning, the couple awoke with their limbs entangled and the sheets pushed down to barely cover their waists. The room was a mess of discarded clothes, although the golden sunlight filtering in through the fancy, embroidered cream curtains made the entire scene look a lot less disastrous than it truly was.

Eleanor's eyes were the first to flicker open, before a shock ran through her. Not at the near naked boy in bed with her, although that was certainly a happy surprise, but at the fact that the near naked boy had a flight to catch in... four hours.

Gently, she shook the Brit awake. He mumbled incoherently into his pillow, arm tightening around her waist. Eleanor laughed, although her head ached at the sound. She made a mental note to grab some Advil as soon as she got up.

"Lando, baby, you have a flight to catch," Eleanor whispered quietly, shaking him once again. "I'm guessing you have to be there two hours before?"

"Ngh," he grumbled. "'M flying private."

Eleanor's brows shut up into her hairline, almost choking on her own saliva. "Alright, Mr Millionaire. When do you have to leave?"

"Two thirty," Lando mumbled again, one ocean blue eye peeking open at her. He smiled, reaching forward and brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Y'look beautiful."

Eleanor blushed, pulling the sheets over her barely covered top half, but Lando quickly stopped her, his hand instead slipping behind her to unfasten her bra. "Lando!" She gasped, but the fabric was already pulled away before she could say another word.

"It's bad to sleep with a bra on," The Brit said nonchalantly, yawning and stretching his arms above his head.

"Is it?" She asked, feigning ignorance with a sly smile on her lips. With Lando here as distraction, her hangover head seemed to subside, leaving only a faint throbbing at her temples.

Lando hummed, moving so quickly that, in a blink, he was on top of her with his lips on her sternum, pressing kisses along the swell of her breasts. "Don't worry, I can make them feel better."

"Lan..." Eleanor whimpered, threading her fingers through his soft, disheveled locks. "We need to—"

"I think you owe me something," he mumbled against her skin, looking up at her through his lashes. When he saw the uncertainty in her expression, he immediately frowned. "Obviously, you don't owe me anything, I was just—"

She shut him up by pushing him back onto the bed by his shoulders, straddling him. His obvious hardness strained against the fabric of his underwear, and it was much too tempting to tease him by rolling her hips against his. Before he could get a hold of her waist and keep her in place, she was already slipping under the covers, determined to keep last night's promise.

ELEANOR AND Lando had (late) breakfast together, which involved the tough decision on what to make (pancakes or waffles?), a mini food fight, and whether blueberries or raspberries were the superior berry. Lando argued the former, while Eleanor was backing the latter over their share of waffles and pancakes out on the balcony, overlooking the stunning Monegasque marina.