Breaking Free (ManxMan)

Chapter 22

Hello my lovely readers. I have reasons as to why I haven't been updating, but I don't want to list them. I would have updated on Sunday, but relatives are over and my cousins are computer hogs. So here's the chapter. Hope you like it and all that jazz.

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Chapter 22

(Sky/Alan's POV)

There are most cases where I would love having the sun's rays lay upon my sleeping form, giving me a bright morning of chirping birds and car honks to wake up to.

Not this case.

I forced my eyelids open, almost glued shut by the eye crust that formed while I was unaware of the world in my drunken slumber. That was a huge mistake. Once I opened my eyes, I was greeted with the searing light of the morning sun, the blinding light the most unwelcoming sight to my poor sensitive eyes. The fierceness of the light gave me one huge headache, the first and last hangover I will ever have. Never will I drink alcohol excessively ever again. Maybe in moderation, but never enough to get me drunk or even buzzed.

My vision finally came back to me and I was greeted to the sight of a vaguely familiar ceiling, but not one I associate with when I wake up every morning, meaning I'm not at home in my worn and torn, yet comfortable bed. That was when I noticed the radiating warmth curled up behind me, spooning me and keeping me close with a strong arm around my waist.

I breathed in and tried not to freak out. Did I go home with some random stranger last night? Did I have sex with this person? Wait, if I did then my clothes would be gone and strewn all over the room, so with only my boots and socks missing, there is no indication that I had sex with this person. That doesn't mean I didn't do anything inappropriate. Just because I didn't have intercourse with this person doesn't mean I didn't do other sexual acts.

When I tried to slowly, but carefully remove the stranger's arm to sneak away and hopefully escape without the said person waking up, my efforts were proven futile. The guy's arm was as strong and unyielding as a lead pipe; it won't budge a millimeter.

But the even more odd thing is that I'm not freaking out nor going into a panic attack. It's weird and relieving to not cause a huge scene, yet something is wrong. Why am I not freaking out like I usually do?

The stranger mumbled something underneath his breath and somehow pulled me even closer to him, his chest molding every inch of my back, his hips by my backside and I can feel the telltale poking of his morning wood pressing against my backside. The slight shift created a tiny breeze, sending me his scent and I relaxed when I realized who it is that's holding me and not some random stranger I decided to follow my drunken butt somewhere with.

Wait...CHASE?!?!

I quickly scrambled out of his grasp and fell off the bed from my haste and confusion. Of course, it wasn't a graceful fall where I somehow twist my body mid fall and land on my back. Instead, I got the more realistic and painful fall where I face-planted, my face stuffed with worn plush carpets that smelled a bit funny and my body hanging off the side of the bed. The sudden movement and fall made my hangover so much worse than it already was, the pounding became rapid punches from a professional boxer or a jackhammer on a sidewalk. Yup, either one.

I groaned in pain and whimpered as i tried not to move, scared of making hangover act up more than it currently is.

I heard some one jump off the bed and scramble to my side of the bed. "Oh man. Alan!" Strong, big hands grabbed me and carefully lifted me off the ground and back onto the bed. "Shit. I'll get you an icepack so lie down and don't move." Chase ordered as he ran to the mini fridge and rummaged through it.