Axel and Price

1. hand cuffs and a nightmare

Birds were way past chirping by the time Axel opened his eyes. And no, it's not just because he was in a penthouse in a city. It was just late. Like two in the afternoon late.

He had opened his eyes, and just by looking at the ceiling, he knew that he had ended up home and not in some ditch in Atlanta—not that Atlanta was a bad place to be. The only strange thing was one of his arms was immobile—as in stuck. Numb.

He tried to move, but apparently, he was cuffed. Kinky much? He thought as he tried to remember the events of last night. There was a girl sleeping on his chest. How was he supposed to kick out someone who he had his arm around? How drunk was he to have put an arm around some girl?

The chick would think that last night was more than just sex. Last night was sex and cuddles. His head was struggling to remember last night despite a pounding headache. At least he knew for sure that he had gotten drunk again. This guy's impulse control was clearly down to the negative rates.

There were clothes on the floor; his shirt, pants, boxers. He was definitely naked underneath. He looked at the girl whose face was covered by her messed up brown hair. How come she had a shirt on—and his shirt for that matter? He was almost disappointed.

He was about to wake her up but then he saw the lacy red bra hanging from his lamp shade.

And as if PTS had struck him, last night's memories came surging. The lonely but incredibly hot woman he had found in the bar, the drinking game, the restaurant, the slot machines, etc. Heck, there was even a kiss—way more than that, actually.

He remembered just how drawn he was to the girl in skinny jeans and black sleeveless blouse. And now that girl was handcuffed to him with her head on his chest.

      Wasted. Hammered. Smashed.

That's what he was last night. He sighed and moved her hair away from her face with his other hand. Definitely her.

It didn't make a difference though.

"Wake up," he grunted, deciding to burst her bubble of ignorance in her sleep. "Hmm?" she hummed innocently.

"Wake up," he said louder. And she did, with eyes fluttering wide open.

"Shit," she cursed the moment her brown eyes saw him. "Who are you?" He waited. "Where am I?" She got from relaxed to panicked state real fast.

Then, she groaned. She wasn't spared from the blinding hangover. At least he wasn't alone in his consequences. She moved an arm. He can only watch her; at least he had good taste even when drunk.

"Am I handcuffed?" It was a squeak, it seemed like she wanted to cry. She tugged at the cuffs, her eyes frantic now.

He opted to calm her down before kicking her out. After all, they had a pretty interesting conversation last night, she's pretty hot too. "Calm down Muffin, you're with me." His words only succeeded in irking her more.

"I told you, I don't kno—" Then, she looked at him, her brown eyes calculating, analyzing. But as she froze, he watched as her brows rise in recognition and her lips forming to an 'o'. Cute. It was gone in a second thought, replaced by a furious frown.

"Aww man," she groaned, still tugging at her wrist. "Cut it out, it hurts," he complains. Perhaps, she realized that her head was still very much on his chest because she tried sitting up. The hungover must be killing her too. Axel almost pitied her; at least he didn't have to do the walk of shame after that. She won against her painful headache, and finally sat up. His arm was alive again.