𝑉𝐼𝐵𝑅𝛢𝑁𝑇 - B.D.

He's Still a Dick, Obviously

//Lexi//
I wake up, again, in his office, again with a view of his desk, again with a deep drumming in my head. There's something different, this time, different than the last. There's no cold, sturdy, unwavering leather of the couch beneath me sticking uncomfortably to my skin. There's something softer, warmer -- a chest, it's him beneath me. I prop myself up, my elbows either side of his sleeping form. It's now I notice how steady his breathing is, how his eyebrows are turned in toward each other softly and his chin is jutted up slightly in a way that makes his nose stick out. The way his nose twitches like that of a mouse makes the gentle yet sporadic hitches in his breathing seem that much more obvious. He's not just sleeping, he's dreaming, it doesn't seem like a happy dream. I wonder, what does a man like him dream of? I debate waking him for a moment, but I don't. He'll feel pressured to tell me then, if I save him from his dreams, to tell me what's making his eyebrows contort in such a way. I have no right to know that. I don't even know him.

There's another difference; I remember this time. There's towel tossed across the arm of the couch, along with my dress and underwear, I remember how they got there.
He had been so sweet, so gentle and so damn sarcastic. He brought me a clean towel and clean clothes after that. A t-shirt and a pair of boxers, the only spare clothes he had that might fit me he said, though there's a chance he just wanted to see what it'd look like on me.
I want to see what he'd look like, stood above a bed full of fluffy pillows and clean sheets. Stretching in just this thin black shirt as it pulls up along with his arms to reveal his flat, toned stomach and boxers that cling a little too low on his hips, making his v-line seem all the more prominent. I want to see a sloppy, tired grin beaming down at me as he mumbles a good morning in a deep, sleep-struck voice. I want to see his hair, ruffled and spiking out in all the wrong directions as he yawns and asks me what I want for breakfast. I want to see him fit in perfectly with my morning routine, and every other routine throughout the day. I haven't even slept with this man yet and I want every single part of him, I want him to have every single part of me.

"Do you watch everyone while they sleep like you're eyeing up your prey or am I the lucky one?"

"Y-you're awake?" Oh God, how embarrassing.

"I am now yeah," he grunts softly, rubbing his hands across his face, "you feeling okay?" That's the gruff voice I wanted to hear.

"I got water thrown on me Blaine, I didn't come down with the flu, I'm fine."

He snorts, before pushing me off of him without warning and sitting up. I squeal as I feel warm hands against my body, followed by the cold concrete floor.

"BLAINE." I yell as my face flushes red, or it would, if I could blush "WHAT THE HELL?"

"Hmm?" He looks down at me, but there's no sloppy, sleepy grin, there's a devilish smirk in its place.

"Dick." I snap, it didn't hurt much but still, how can he be so kind and generous at points and so inconsiderate at others?

"Good morning to you too gorgeous." He stands and saunters over to his desk, walking around me as though I'm an object without a second thought, he sits down.

"I hate you." I pout. His smirk grows wider.

"Take it I'm not getting a thank you for letting you sleep here this time either?"

"Go away." I cross my arms over my chest and turn my head away, it seems to amuse him more.

He chuckles, "It's my office."

"Fine. I'll go."

"Aw no baby, I'm sorry, don't go." He pouts, a mock sympathetic tone clinging to his words, though his eyes genuinely seem to plead, even as he widens them to make his point.

I narrow my eyes as I study his face for a while, I could use this. I stand. "Well, I guess you're just going to have to make it up to me, aren't you?" I smirk back, standing and walking over to him, my fingertips skimming his desk in a manner that's slow, suggestive.

"Is that so?" His eyes glisten with intrigue as he leans forward in his chair to get closer to me, "and how do you propose I do that?"

I press my hand to his chest and push him back into the chair, roughly, "Well, I have a few ideas..." I straddle him, my hips against his, our faces a breaths width apart. I lean into him and he bites his lip, his eyes dropping down to my lips before meeting mine again.

"You could always drive me home?" I hop off of him and grab my clothes from the couch, turning around to meet a very disappointed looking Blaine still slouched in his chair. "What are you waiting for handsome?"

I get it now, men like him toy with women because it's fun, the look that you get, the way you can almost hear their heart drop. It's cruel, but God does it feel good. Plus he deserves it, I bet he couldn't even begin to count the number of women he's messed with on his hands. Though I can't help but think I may have started something here, this morning, something I may come to regret.