What Have I Gotten Myself Into?

Comfort

"Turn off the lights," I groan, digging myself deep into the warmth and fuzzy texture of the sheet and duvet, which are so clean and rough at the same time. Despite being so deep under the covers, I can still see the light, just brimming behind my eyelids. Shutting my eyes for two hours can't make the aftermath of the aching go away. 

The annoyance of being unable to sleep once more trikes, and so I get out from under the covers, fighting air while trying to get my hair out of my face while also trying to tear everything off sticking to me. The uncomfortable feeling wakes me up faster than the blinking light tries to.

"Someone had it rough," I hear footsteps ahead to see a fine man in a robe walking in, two hot beverages in his hands with his entire existence God-given.

The moment his words reached me I could feel myself hot in sheets, dripping and just feeling all kinds of good roughness hitting everything. I feel around the sheet and leave my hands under my inner thigh.

"Your words have different meanings," I could still feel myself blushing.

"Would you prefer it had one meaning-" He gives me my cup as I mumble a thank you before hovering over with his then free hand behind my back, "Once again?" I can't look away from his stare.

"Uhm!" I look down, fast, re-adjusting my hand on the cup, holding them into two hands now. I feel his eyes go down, so I ask..

"Did you clean me up?" I ask, trying to look at him as he sits next to me, his back almost to mine but he turns so we see eye-to-eye.

"I took care of you, as one should." He barely drinks his tea so I sip mine. Nodding to my drink, we just sat like that and enjoyed each other's silence...

This silence is fucking kicking me!

"Just anyone?" I should've kept my mouth shut! The silence is worse than it was. 

Seeing him move, I moved by eyes, seeing white robes back on, lightly cuddling his body that was cuddled around mine skin-to-skin just a while ago. . . Remembering what I ask of him, I did my best to avoid eye contact of any kind. He puts the cup on the bed-side table and slides under the duvet to his thigh, like me. He sits back, his back to the headboard, and roams his hand around my waist with his front close to my back.

"I regret that it took me so long to realize, but now that you're mine, only your man could take care of his woman properly." His hand teases, before changing the topic as my mind roams elsewhere.

"You looked beautiful in that red dress and shawl..." I could feel his eyes roaming my back, his breathing a little tighter.

I gulp. Feeling red with the thought of how he could've seen me with the dress he had bought for me. With the statement of him being mine, how only he could take care of me still sits in the air. Tingling warmth in my chest, the hot cup long forgotten. 

Yet my hands feel too hot, my throat is itching so much despite not having burn it with the still hot beverage. I move my hold to the right to which he took the cup out of my hands, put it on the same table, and pulled me close behind him. I hold his hands that held my stomach, "Aren't you cold?" He asks, bringing our hands to cover me up in the duvet. I can't see where his focus is on.

At the realization that I still wore nothing, I attempted to cover myself fully over my head only for him to slide us under the blanket, my bare back against his robe. The "cave" isn't so dark but he makes my vision blurry with how close he is, the tickle on my ear due to his breath, the tightening hands on mine close enough to bra my boobs with his palms and that makes me a little too overly excited. As if last night didn't happen.

"I'm sorry," I feel the vibration of his voice. I don't get his sympathy but I've a hint of what it's for, I lower my lips to his knuckles, hands of his still grasping mine but not as tight; as soft and soothing as sympathy feels.

"It was a play, I agreed on it..." I reassure, thinking something over as he leans his chin in the crook of my neck.

"It made me get closer to you, in more than one ways." I attempted to at least let him know I truly was fine, he didn't feel as though, it seems.

Removing his knuckle from my lips, he positioned them rightly so to spin my front to his. My eyes looked up to his emotional ones; they spark with an apology confession despite the stone emotionless overall look of his. 

"Your arm," I grab the hand that my side's laying on, not wishing to make it more painful than what he's feeling for having to had pained me.

"Joell," he lowers my neck onto his chest, now that's my view. He whispers to my head, not wanting me to strain my neck from looking up too long.

"Did I make you cry?"

"No." 

"That was a fast reply."

"You didn't make me cry. I'm a good actor."

"You act?"

"You've never seen, have you?"

. . . 

"Ginni says you're a sensitive one." Fuck you Ginni!

. . . 

"I don't like being yelled at," I admit.

"I'm sorry," I feel him rubbing my back.

"I don't like being insulted."

"I'm sorry.."

"You were meaner..."

"It wasn't on purpose. I'm sorry."

"I know..." I put my arms around him and snuggle into his bare skin, feeling his robe.

"I don't like that you're in robe," he tries to retract his arms from around me, such audacity, but I held them still in place, "I don't want you to let go of me." Nodding, he pushes his body away from mine a bit and I unknotted his robe. He took the sleeve out of his arms before embracing me close, skin-to-skin.

"Next time," he starts to catch my attention.

"If we're asked to act a play for anyone, and if anything in the script involves something that may hurt you, none of that play will be practiced. Okay?" I didn't nod. 

I don't, indeed, like being hurted, in any ways one would me. Especially, if it's anyone whom I love. 

Having asked to do the Bride and Groom a favor they ask of me for having messed up my invitation card...I didn't think it was going to be about how they met. I agreed to that because normally it's cute.

Their office romance meeting was a wreck and the woman's mascara ran down! How the fuck was that the beginning of their love story?

I only agreed to it because apparently Aslan had owned the Groom and was stuck in this role, until they found the female character. The play to act out at the wedding place, had it's own place that had been remodeled exactly as their office days...They remembered how it looked, not because of memories, but because, after the interaction which Aslan and I had acted for their wedding, they had gone back real quick to take a few photos and videos of how it came to be.

Good for them, not it turning into a traumatic event. I guess.

"I only like it rough in bed...With you." I feel his entire body freeze, his chest tight against my palms. 

"Don't change the subject," he tries to scold after the many attempts of coughing and trying not to stutter a single word.

"I'll let you know if I dislike it."