Broken Submission

The Morning After

She wasn't sure if she was thankful it was a weekend or if she wished she could use work as an excuse to leave. She had woken on the couch, a crick deep in her neck, extending into her shoulder. Dawn was barely creeping over the horizon, and there was a thin layer of sweat between her skin and that of the male whose arm was draped over her.

He was still deeply asleep. She took the opportunity to look at him, to really study his features for the first time. He was not a classically handsome man. Large was a better description. But there was something sexy in its own way about a man who knew who he was. Who embraced his nature with quiet certainty.

It wasn't the blustering, entitled masculinity she sometimes came across, that pseudo-dominance that was really just the sign of an asshole. He was quiet, but he smiled a lot, a small movement that made his eyes narrow just a bit. His kindness was so obvious to her. His anger....she had never seen or experienced it undeserved.

She gently snuggled back into his chest, ignoring the slight stickiness of their sweat. When he woke, she knew that she was in for a long conversation. What was she going to say? He was right to be disappointed in her lack of sense.

Walking home alone and in the dark was idiotic. She didn't have the money to put new locks on the doors, but her college roommate had showed her a trick where one used a rod as a lever. Amelia didn't know why it worked, but the girl had been a physics major, so she probably knew what she was talking about.

When she returned her focus to Derek, her eyebrows drew together. Why was he even here? If she'd left tabs unpaid at the club, they'd have just mailed her a bill. Despite the connection she'd felt that one night, they didn't know each other. And even that could be explained away. Some people just clicked, especially in the scene. It brought forward the primal, the instinctual. There, sudden and physical connections might not have been commonplace, but they weren't uncommon either.

Pondering these things and hypnotized by his rhythmic breathing, she drifted back into a light doze.

Derek loved waking up to the weight of a woman on his chest. Some men scorned snuggling and only tolerated that element of aftercare. Those men were idiots. The soft, sleepy warmth, the boneless weight...it brought every atom of his being into a satisfied, relaxed state.

Breathing in a deeply contented sigh, Derek glanced around her small apartment. There had been so little light last night that he felt he was seeing it for the first time. Besides the couch on which they currently resided, there was almost nothing in the living room. A crooked TV tray covered in mismatched candles sat by the window. A small stack of novels sat on the ground beside the couch.

Moving his eye line, Derek saw that the kitchen was more equipped with the necessities—a fridge, sink, oven, even a dishwasher. But then, most of those things were provided by the apartment complex. His angle meant that he couldn't see down the hallway that opened between the two rooms. He craned his neck, trying not to move his chest.

But he must not have been entirely successful, because a couple moments later, Amelia yawned. He grinned as her back arched like a little kitten, hands coming up to scrub at her face. She smacked her lips lightly twice and sniffed, nose twitching.

"Did I wake you?" he murmured, running his hand down her back. His fingers traced the bumps of her spine before rubbing gentle circles.

Amelia didn't know what was with this guy and the petting, but she couldn't deny that she loved it. Her back was so sensitive. Other people wanted their feet rubbed or even their breasts played with, but for her, there was something too exposed about that. But having her back stroked...it gave her goosebumps every time.

Realizing that she hadn't answered him, she quickly said, "Oh, no, I should be getting up anyway."

His hand brushed over her once more before lifting so that she could move. She straightened somewhat reluctantly. Their position had meant that she didn't have to worry about looking at his face and that he couldn't see hers. She dipped her chin, letting the curtain of her hair fall into place while she swiped a hand under her eyes. She probably had a huge sleepy in the corner of her eye—she always did—and a snail trail of saliva at the corner of her mouth.

"Um...excuse me," she muttered as she slid off the couch and practically ran to the bathroom.

She closed the door as quietly as possible, cringing at the inevitable click that the knob made. She couldn't afford to buy the real stuff, but her doors were well oiled in cooking grease so that they didn't squeak. She knew that her nervousness when it came to sound was irrational, but she had too many issues to make that one the focus of her attention.

She checked herself in the mirror and breathed a sigh of relief. There was a little eye goo in one corner and her hair was a mess, but it was better than many mornings.

Derek watched, amused, as she scurried into the hallway. He didn't know how she managed to move so quietly. He didn't even hear the door that she must have opened and shut. He heard the faucet though, so he assumed she was in the bathroom. He stood and stretched, wincing as the movement tugged at several knots that had formed in the night.

She took so long in the bathroom that he had run through all of his morning stretches before she reappeared. His bladder begged for his attention though, so he only managed to give her a smile and a "morning" before racing past her into the vacated room. His sigh of relief could probably be heard from the kitchen as he relieved himself of one of man's most insistent bodily urges.