Another shorter chapter, but hopefully a good one.
Thus continues the chronicles of a drunk Rachel and a seductive Al…
Chapter 4: Strange Bedfellows
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Oh my god, I woke up with the queen bitch mother of all hangovers. Worse, I was in a strange bed, my new bed in the ever after, and I wasn't alone.
"How the hell did you fit us both in a twin?" I moaned groggily. My mouth tasted like it had been coated in rotten fruit and ashes.
Al sighed in my ear, and I shuddered. I tried to pull away from him, but we were snuggly spooned, and I was closest to the wall, trapped between a demon and a hard place. Actually, trapped between two hard places. I squirmed, trying to put distance between me and the empirical evidence that demons get morning wood. Al cursed when I elbowed him in the gut, but wrapped his arms more tightly around my middle, pulling me into him even more snuggly and smothering my uncoordinated thrashing.
"You're not even allowed in my room!" I yelled, then regretted it, my own voice echoing like damnation in my head.
"Teacher's prerogative, dove. Do go back to sleep? You're not the only one with a hangover," Al murmured into my ear, and I tried to elbow him again when he planted a small kiss on my jaw.
"You're a bastard," I grumbled without any effect. "A fricking bastard. A fairy fart sniffing bastard!" My head was still swimming. Damn, how long had I been out?
"Mmm," was his only response, his voice muffled because his face was buried in my hair.
I closed my eyes in frustration, but had to open them again suddenly. Al was warm, the bed was soft, and despite how pissed I might feel about the whole situation, my tired and abused body was grateful for it. I couldn't trust myself to stay awake if I started resting my eyes.
But then the realization hit and I was suddenly cold and sleep was the furthest thing from my mind. I wasn't in my grey silk dress anymore. I was in a cream- colored night gown that was softer than anything I'd ever worn before, and I was in bed, with Al. Panic choked me, but only for a minute. Then headache or not, I yelled and struggled against him, taking him by surprise and getting in a few good shots.
"You asshole!" I yelled, trying to pull away from him. I was going to kill him. I was going to freaking kill him!
"Rachel! What is your problem, you spastic witch?" Al gasped in surprise, grabbing hold of both my wrists when I tried to get a grip on his throat.
"I can't believe you, Al. I fricking trusted you!" I screamed, successfully getting one hand free and landing a decent hit right under his left eye. He winced but held on, and soon had my other hand recaptured as well, pulling me into his chest and holding both my arms over my head. Which really wasn't that smart of a hold, since I was pissed enough to start biting.
"Love, if I'd taken advantage of your inebriated state, you'd damn well know it," Al responded with a dark chuckle, and pushed his lips against my forehead when I shuddered against him. My soused brain took a minute, but I thought it through. I was tired, felt icky, needed to pee, but I wasn't sore at all, something I'd expect if I'd been having passed-out sex with a demon. No, I thought after evaluating myself, I was just hung-over. But I was still so entirely pissed at him for taking off my dress. Slowly, as if to gauge my reaction, he released my wrists, placing one arm form around my middle before I could pull entirely away, but the other had wandered, and started stroking up and down my hip. God damn it.
"You were too far gone to remember, Rachel. But you puked all over your lovely dress. I couldn't very well leave you like that," Al murmured softly, and I felt my face glow with embarrassment. Somehow this was even worse than half of Cinci and untold pervs on the internet seeing my naked Fountain Square picture. Knowing Al had seen me naked, and had cleaned me up, changed me into pajamas like a child…god I was never going to live this down.
I tried to glare up at him, but his eyes were closed despite the rhythmic stroking of his hand. His face was almost vulnerable with his red eyes hidden; I could count on one hand the number of times I'd seen him like that. He looked genuinely relaxed, ready to drift off to sleep, though I was still uncertain as hell about demon sleep patterns. They seemed to do it as little was possible. It was somehow nice being like this, with him, and that scared me silly.
"Al, let go," I said, trying to shift away from him. Surprise, surprise, he didn't listen to me, didn't even crack an eyelid, but continued sliding his big warm hand up and down my side.
"You've caused me trouble enough, itchy witch. I'm not hurting you, you can stay put for a bit longer," he said, his hot breath above me and tickling along my neck where he had brushed my hair aside. It was strange, usually anywhere this close to him the stink of burnt amber was enough to make me gag. God, I hope I wasn't getting used to it.
"Al," I said, glad my face was hidden, nearly buried in his chest. "I have to pee," I said, hoping it didn't sound like the whine it was, and Al groaned in defeat as he finally released me, letting me climb awkwardly over him to get out of bed.