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The Morning After

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Brandon POV

Slowly I became aware that I was awake. I’m not sure how long I had been awake, but still in that dreamlike twilight state where nothing was really processing. That state in between waking and sleeping where you aren’t really awake, but you aren’t sleeping either. The sun was filtering through the blinds. It was later than I usually get up. I would roll over to check my phone, but I didn’t want to wake up Reese, who was sleeping with their head on my chest, legs tangled with the sheets and my own legs. I reached up to brush a strand of hair out of their face, admiring how serene they looked when they’re asleep. Their eyes slowly opened, and I could see them processing their surroundings. Then they looked up at me, seeing me watching them sleep.

“Mmm, ‘morning,” they mumbled, groaning and snuggling closer to me.

“Good morning,” I answered, kissing them on the forehead.

“Did you sleep well?” they smiled sleepily, nodding.

“You wore me out last night,” they said, sitting up a little. The sheets fell away as they did, revealing the hickeys and bruises I left on them the night before. I smiled as I looked at them, remembering our activities. Remembering the way my hand felt wrapped in their hair, yanking their head back harshly as I left those marks. The sound of their voice begging me to slap them harder. I grinned at the thought.

“What are you thinking about?” they asked. I smiled cheekily.

“Just thinking about those marks on your neck,” I answered. They blushed, looking down. “They look great on you.” I slipped a knuckle under their chin, tilting it up to look at me and pressing my lips to theirs. This kiss was a lot softer than the ones last night. Those were hungry, rough, passionate, dominating. I wanted to bite their lower lip to hear those delicious sounds they would make, but I restrained myself. I was very rough last night, and I’m worried if we go again, I might break them. We break apart and sit up more.

“How are you feeling?” I asked. “Any pain?”

“I’m a little sore,” they said. “But other than that, I’m ok.”

“I want to check the bruises to make sure I didn’t hurt you too badly,” I said. They nodded, sitting up and letting me inspect them. I started with their wrists. Last night I had made sure the restraints weren’t too tight, and I had treated the wounds, but one can never be too careful. Their wrists looked ok. They had marks on their wrists where the restraints had dug into their skin, but it didn’t look bad. Just a little irritation. I checked their neck and collarbones next. Everything looked ok, so I moved lower.

“Can you stand up and turn around, sweetheart?” I asked. They nodded, standing up and turning so I could check their back and butt. I could see the red marks from where I had hit them with my belt. Fuck, remembering the way they begged me to hit them harder, their hands gripping the bedsheets tightly, it was so hot. I ran my hand gently over the marks and I could see them wince slightly.

“Does that hurt?” I asked. They shook their head.

“Not really,” they said.

“Are you downplaying it?” I asked sternly. “You don’t need to lie to me.”

“It hurts a bit,” they admitted.

“It’s really not that bad. Just a bit tender.” I stood up and pressed a kiss to their shoulder, wrapping my arms around their waist.

“Alright,” I said. “Are you hungry?” they nodded.

“Yeah.”

“We have that leftover takeout in the fridge,” I said. They groaned appreciatively.

“Yessss I love leftover takeout,” they said. “It’s one of the best things in the world. Almost better than sex.” I threw my head back in laughter.

“Is that right?” I asked, turning them around to face me.

“Yep. You mention leftover takeout and I’m like ‘talk dirty to me yessssss!’” they giggled. I leaned in close, whispering seductively in their ear.

“Well, why don’t we head into the kitchen then,” I said in a low and husky voice.

“And open the fridge,”

“Yeah, go on,” they said, matching my energy.

“And we take the leftovers out of the fridge,” I continued, grinning.

“Keep going,” they said breathlessly, playing along.

“And we heat those leftovers up.”

“What then?”

“And then…” I trailed off, leaving kisses behind their ear.

“What?”

“Then, we eat the leftovers.” Reese threw their head back, practically cackling with laughter.

“Oh my god I can’t!” they cried. “This is just too funny. Sexy talking about leftovers, I fucking can’t!” they wheezed. I laughed as well, enjoying the way their eyes lit up when they laughed.

“I can make anything sexy if I try hard enough,” I answer. “Remember when I made that Barney thirst trap on TikTok?” they slapped my arm lightly, laughing harder.

“Don’t remind me!” they cackled. I laughed.

“Alright, as much as I love standing here dirty talking about food while stark naked, I think we should get at least somewhat dressed and go make our leftovers.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” they said. I turned to my dresser to pull out some clothes, quickly getting dressed. When I turned back to Reese, they were dressed in my boxers and one of my t-shirts. The shirt swamped their thin frame, making them look tiny.

“That is not fair,” I say. “You know how much I love it when you wear my clothes. How am I supposed to keep my hands off of you now?” I ask.

“Who says I want you to?” they answer teasingly.

“If we go again, I’m afraid I’ll break you!” I respond.

“I’m not that fragile,” they snort. “You of all people should know that!”

“I do know that,” I say, moving over to them and wrapping my arms around them again and kissing the top of their head. “But I was very rough with you last night.” they giggle.

“Enough stalling,” they said. “I want leftover takeout!!!” I laugh, lifting them easily. They yelp in surprise, before laughing.

“Is this what you wanted your highness?” I ask, laughing.

“Yes,” they giggle.

“Do you want me to kneel before you and feed you your food on a silver platter as well?” they snort in laughter again. “What?!” I ask in mock indignation.

“Imagining you on your knees is hilarious to me,” they said.

“I was on my knees for you last night,” I reminded them, setting them down on the kitchen counter and turning to the fridge to grab the takeout containers.

“That’s different though,” they said, squirming at the memory. “You were still like, in charge. Picturing you on your knees feeding me is so weird to me, because it’s such a submissive position…” they trailed off.

“And you’re the submissive one in this relationship?” I finished for them as I put the food in the microwave.

“Exactly,” they said. “Imagining you in a submissive position is hilarious to me because you’re so not!” They hopped off the counter to move to stand beside me, staring into the microwave as the food spun round.

“Why do you always insist on watching the food in the microwave?” I asked, laughing.

“I have no clue,” they answered. “I just do!” I wrapped my arms around them again.

“You’re like a cat,” I said. I leaned close to them and whispered my next words into their ear.

“My naughty little kitten.” I could hear the sharp intake of breath and grinned. The microwave beeped, and I straightened up, retrieving the food and placing it on the counter. “If you behave, maybe we can make a couple more marks on that pretty skin of yours later,” I whispered in their ear, before turning my attention to my food, pretending like I hadn’t said anything.