[For Alan] ... the night of and the morning after

[playingtheenemy]

Alan poked his head into the room, looked both ways. "It'll do."

Stepping back, he smiled expansively. "After you."Ainsley gave him a curt nod of her head, making her way into her room which was familiar territory by now and she set the bottle down on the floor as she slid off the gold and purple bracelets from the box downstairs. "Now that you've

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[alanshore]

"I'm never the right choice." Alan stepped--just barely--into the room. It looked like every other room in the compound, leaving him little reason to inspect the walls and the furnishings.

He walked to the bed, tensed his hand against the mattress experimentally. "Therein lies my appeal."

[playingtheenemy]

Ainsley gave him a warm smile and a laugh to accompany that. "You're the conveniently right choice," she corrected him. "And therein lies my desire."

She just smiled at him as she leaned in to kiss him properly, pressing a hand to his chest to push him down to the bed.

And to have her way with him.

[If you'd like to FTB and play morning after, I'd love that to bits. Chase's smut has killed me.]

[alanshore]

There was sprawling, as promised.

Alan woke to the warmth of a body beside him--not unusual, save for the fact that that body wasn't producing snores loud enough to rattle window panes. His mouth was dry, contained some awful lingering aftertaste of scotch that he couldn't bring himself to dislike. The world was blurred at the edges.

...for a few seconds, anyway. Then the world resolved itself into Ainsley Hayes and himself, sharing a bed.

"Hmmm," he said softly, and shifted, by gradual, careful increments, onto his side.

[playingtheenemy]

Ainsley was barely awake and the level of alertness she was capable of was startingly limited, so she merely stretched bit by bit, really angling for something to eat. Something like a mango, maybe. Her brain slowly caught up to her stomach when she remembered she wasn't alone and couldn't just pop out.

The island made it a little awkward for the morning after. "Morning," she murmured, trying desperately (while trying not to look desperate) to make herself presentable again.