CH. 8/ GO FUCK YOURSELF

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TW: VERY SHORT STEAMY PART?

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TW: VERY SHORT STEAMY PART?

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Groggy didn't begin to describe you as you cracked open an eye. The morning sun shone through the window, spilling past the edges of your curtain, which didn't provide much shade by themselves anyway. 

You raised a hand to your head, your headache nearly feeling palpable under your sweaty skin. Letting out a long sigh, you turned over on your side, focus drifting towards the green foliage whispering in the wind. For how awful you felt, there had been worse places to wake up with a hangover. 

 You'd slept badly, as you usually did under the influence of alcohol. This time, however, you'd had a vivid dream that had escaped your conscious as soon as you awoke from it. The harder you tried to remember, the more it slipped through your grasp. 

You ran a hand through your hair, annoyed with the gaps in your memory. Half the 'Never have I ever' game had been replaced by a hazy blur, and you wondered how you'd gotten back to your cabin in one piece. 

You shrugged flipping your legs over the side of your bed, stretching your aching, dehydrated body. Then, as if a light switched on in your brain, you remembered your dream. At least flashes of it. 

His touch sending shivers down your spine as his fingers dig into the soft flesh of your thighs, pulling you even closer to him. His other hand, lost in your hair as it holds you steady, lips moving against yours hungrily. 

You're straddling him on the small couch beside the fire, trapping him in place, not that he seems to mind in the slightest. 

Your bodies molded together, as if they were made for this. He groans into the kiss as you grind down on him, his hand moving further up your thigh and resting on your hip. You break the kiss, only for a moment, to allow you both the chance for oxygen. 

Even in the dim light, his blue eyes send sparks flying in your veins. Pupils dilated, breathing heavy, not unlike yourself in this moment. He says something in a low voice, but you don't catch the words, not before he pulls you against him once more. 

A loud ringing disturbed your recollection before it could go further. Holy fuck. That had been a dream, right? One horrible moment passes, in which you're unsure if you're simply remembering something that happened while you were drunk last night, or if you'd only dreamt it. You weren't sure which option you preferred. 

You blinked the sleep away, and noticed the ringing hadn't stopped. Confused, your eye fell upon the source of it, being the black landline perched upon your desk. You jumped as it rang again, untangling yourself from the blanket still stuck on your lap and  standing quickly, making haste to stop the incessant noise reverberating in your head. 

A chill went through you as your hand found the phone, suddenly feeling watched from somewhere unknown. You turned, casting one look at the forest outside. No one was there. You slowly raised the phone to your ear. 

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