Shifting stirs me, the bed gently bouncing with movement and the comforter being pulled or tugged. My eyebrows furrow in slight annoyance at being woken up from the heavenly deep sleep I was in. Hearing a huff then feeling something being soothed over the creases caused by the furrowed brows, softly petting to undo the show of discontent. The repetitive motion is soothing, so much so it causes my body to sag back into the blanket and pillow, sleepy and hazy. My eyes do one, slow, blurry blink before they close and a long sigh escapes my nose. There's a muffled voice, raspy and rough from sleep, husky in a whisper close to me. However, I can't focus enough to pick out clear words, merely processing that it sounds like Mark and that fact only brings me the urge to snuggle into his body.

Sliding a hand out, searching, I find he's still directly next to me in bed and quickly slide closer to lay my head on his chest. Arm curling around his stomach and the other is bent between our bodies, the motion on my brows pauses and a hand glides up to brush strands of black hair back from my face. There's a distinct growl from above me, Mark's voice aggravated. Absent-mindedly, I rub at his stomach to try and calm him down, assuming he is speaking to a client of his and they're being irritating.

"Paul, I said she'd come in fucking later. Don't be a damn dickhead, my woman needs sleep, and she'll fucking get it." My mind unclogs in time to hear the words, vaguely wondering why he's speaking to Paul when I'm sure they haven't exchanged numbers or heard my phone ring. Perhaps he does have my boss's number, it would make sense considering we need a heads-up for the new deceased.

Forcing my eyes open, blinking to remove the hazy film covering them, I'm greeted with Mark's bare chest with a light covering of hair and spotting the curl of a broad mocking smirk over his lips while listening to the voice on the phone. It softens as he glances down at me, a loving grin taking over. A dismissal clear in his tone, "think wisely about calling again this early."

The phone is hung up and I catch a glimpse of it before he lays it on the nightstand next to him. Covering my mouth with the blanket when a yawn interrupts the start of my questions. "Why were you talking to Paul on my phone? What was that about?"

He scoffs, scooting down to lie on his back, and pulls me closer, settling my thigh over his hips with a squeeze of his hand. "He called you, and we had a misunderstanding. It's all cleared up now, though. He misdialed trying to call Tony."

It doesn't sound like a lie, Paul miscalls people often. He has a flip phone and his thumbs are bigger than he believes, accidentally pressing the wrong contact. I don't question that, it's happened before. Instead, while snuggling closer, I ask about work. "Did he mention if I needed to come in? I thought I heard you telling him I needed sleep, something about coming in later?"

Kissing my head, he rolls his eyes and sighs, long and suffering. "Bats, he didn't ask you to come in. I was stating a damn fact, trying to avoid you waking the fuck up at the ass crack of dawn."

My eyes flick to the window, the black-out curtains tied open to reveal the sky is still dark with only a hint of blue and orange on the horizon. It wouldn't be the first time going to work before sunrise, and I admit, for my love of creepy and spooky things. Walking into a dark Mortuary, dead silence makes every light sound louder and the knowledge of corpses in the back rooms is rather disconcerting. I've watched too many horror movies involving my profession and the dead in general, it's made certain aspects of my work difficult at points. My mind can run into paranoia quite easily after watching my beloved horror movies.

I find it hilarious seeing as I have zero issues with jumpscares or gore. It's real-world events in some aspects of movies that get me, someone breaking into my home, being targeted by kidnappers, or just being killed because someone is crazy. These things happen every day to innocent people. After movies, I become jumpy at things that seem innocent and while I laugh at myself, there's a sense of unease. Shaking my thoughts back to Mark, I scoot up to lay my chest on his, shifting slightly to make my breast sit comfortably between us. His eyes flick quickly at them squished against him, the sports bra I wear for bed revealing cleavage I normally try to keep modest at work.

His hands glide along my sides, settling at my lower back and boldly allowing one, large hand to rest on my shorts-covered ass. A hum echoes in his throat as my hand curls against his neck, fingers softly rubbing at the fuzzy, shaved hair at the back of his head. Then tracing up into the bed messy longer length at the top, running my fingers idly through it. He's observing me with a dark gaze, kissing the closest patch of skin on my arm. Smiling, I lay my head on my free arm. "You didn't have to be so rude to say that, ya know? I'm sure he understands without any fake threats."

An eyebrow raises, an amused grin curving on his lips with a chuckle. "Fake threat? When the fuck did I threaten him?"

"'Think wisely about calling again this early'" He laughs at the exaggerated voice I put on to imitate him, the sound is contagious and I grin, giggling. "The threat was implied, if not obvious!"

There's a wicked smirk in the response. "Oh, I'm so very deeply fuckin sorry for that, Darlin. I didn't mean to threaten the old man, shit, and not when you'd hear." I pitched his nipple for the implication he would when I wasn't in hearing distance. A short hiss escapes his throat at the action, retaliating with a tug of my hair.

"You don't threaten him at all. I doubt you'd follow through with anything, but it makes you scary to him and others." My words make him pause, starting to pet a hand along my spine.

"You're not scared of me, are ya, Paige? I would never do anything to hurt you." The conversation is suddenly solemn, Mark's voice and eyes curious in concern.

Scoffing, I shake my head and lean up to kiss his lips lightly, reassuringly. "No. I don't think I could find something to be scared about, you're the best boyfriend I've had and so far, the best man I've met that is my age. Even if you're a vulgar, horny one. You're respectful with it. That's refreshing, and I think you're pretty funny."

I feel the muscles under me, on his chest and arms, go lax from where they had tensed. Hands tightening their grip to fruitlessly hold me closer, slightly dry lips press a lingering kiss to my cheek. The abundant, habitual, cursing is noticeably missing from the earnest, yet serious tone. "Good. I'm glad you think that. You're the best woman I've been with, so easygoing and different in every way that matters. I'm damn glad you gave me a chance, Sweet Girl."

"So am I, Sweet Boy." I laugh at the pitch on my ass for mocking the nickname, the atmosphere brought back down by the tease. "It's only fair I call you names like you do me!"

Abruptly, the room flips. A moment I'm laid on top of Mark, then a second and a shocked squeal later, he's pinning me to the mattress, settled carefully, comfortably, between my thighs. He's smirking, self-satisfied, finger twirling a long hair strand along my shoulder. Husky and sensual, "the only names I'll be very fucking happy to hear are Sir, Owner, and maybe Daddy. I'm just waiting for the right to them."

Flush forms on my skin at the titles I normally imagine speaking when I'm alone and subby, Sir more than the others, but that's not to say Owner or Daddy is off the table. I don't have a Daddy fetish, merely enjoy being cared for and the title gives a sense of safety. Never have I thought of my Father, as I don't call him Daddy or Dad. My knuckle digs into his side, trying to calm myself from the words and position with a tease. "I'll call you whatever I want! In fact! How about... Pumpkin King?!"

He laughs, amused, eyes sparkling and body completely at ease. I can feel the movement it causes in his body, faint breath tickling my throat as he planets soft kisses there. "Pumpkin King, huh, Bats?"

Humming, I nod, allowing my hands to trace his bare back and sides. Forcing my baser needs to the side, ignoring the growing want in my gut at having him over me like this. "Yea. It's from my favorite movie and you like all my Halloween shit, so imma name you King." Pausing, I tilt my head. "It's also better than Boobear or something like that, you'd probably make me walk through a store for Halloween without buying anything for calling you that!"

Chuckling, Mark shifts his hips and I fight back the jolt that nearly overtook my limbs at the quick press of a cock against my hips. We had sex before, I know exactly what is in his pants and how he uses it. I'm aware it will make me pleasantly achy all day. However, it is not even morning properly and I'm still sleepy. He doesn't act on any need he may feel, and I can feel it, instead, he merely plays with my hair and gives gentle, loving kisses to my skin, petting me with his other hand. "I will gladly be your fucking King, Princess."

"That sounds so cheesy!" My giggle earns another wide grin, and he rolls over to lie on his side, turning me in the process as well. Facing each other, curled up in his arms and cuddled into his chest.

"I'll tolerate some cheese, as long as you keep wearing these fucking shorts and bra." Thick fingers tug at said clothing pieces, hiking my shorts further up a bit.

My eyes roll, acting annoyed, but the smile on my lips gives me away. Molding my tone into a low whisper, watching him under my lashes with a coy glint. "Should I reward you for the cheese by removing them?"

The grin on his face lowers into a broad smile, wicked and lopsided. Hand already at the waistline of the shorts, fingers sliding under them. "That would certainly be worth it, Doll."

A soft kiss is what I give, light and barely there, feathery. Resting my slim hands on his jaw as if to hold him close, he tries for a more passionate kiss, gripping my hip tightly. Pulling back, he sees the innocent grin I give, before I roll over to snuggle my back into his front and fluff my pillow. Sighing comfortably and pulling the blanket up further to cover us. He's quiet as I get comfortable and when I peek over my shoulder, he's smirking at me, huffing a laugh as he shakes his head. "You little minx. Playing a dangerous game today, aren't ya?"

"I have no clue what you mean, I'm just getting ready for more rest." I know he hears the laughter in my throat, as he chuckles and wraps a strong arm around my waist. Resting his head on the pillow, tugging me impossibly closer while also moving to get both of us cozy in the hold he has me in.

"I will get you back for that, Bats. Make you so fuckin needy and wet, you'll soak through whatever damn pants you wear. I'll make sure of that." It's whispered into my ear, promising. Wiggling my ass, I hear the grunt it earns.

"I don't doubt that for a second." The arm tightens and his lips linger at my throat, not a proper kiss, resting on the skin. My eyes close just as I feel his hand begin to skim over the skin on my stomach, the fabric of the sports bra then along the center of my chest, to settle curling around my slim throat. Thumb moving in a soothing pattern on my pulse, grip not tightening, merely sitting there.

Sighing, my body sags back onto his body in response, trusting. He squeezes gently, nosing up into my hair to kiss the back of my head. "Get some rest, Sweetheart. I'll wake ya up when it's time for work."

Hours later, I'm awoken by my phone alarm going off with a roaring scream from a death metal band I listen to. Before I can even open my eyes, it's shut off and Mark chuckles as he rounds the bed to my side. He tosses the blanket off me, watching attentively as I stretch out, back arching and knees bending while I do. Whistling and making a show of adjusting the crotch of the sweats I let him borrow. I laugh at him, sitting up and realizing the scent of bacon and eggs are spreading into my room. He takes my hand to help me up and assists to make the bed back. Asking while I fluff my pillow, curious if he cooked or ordered. "Did you make breakfast?"

Mark grins brilliantly, holding up the feather robe for me, open and waiting for me to step inside. Jokingly, "I can cook, Darlin. Thought I'd be nice and make us somethin before we gotta deal with people, both dead and alive."

Laughing, I let him help me put the robe on, placing my arms in the sleeves he holds. He even ties it around my waist, fingers gliding over my skin as he does. Playful, smile wide. "Such a gentleman."

I'm guided through my home to the kitchen, where I can see he had set out two plates for us filled with bacon, omelets with hash browns, and biscuits and gravy. The island stool is pulled out for me to sit, and Mark does a dramatic bow. "You know it, Bats. Eat up and then you can go get ready, I'll find my clothes afterward."

The food is delicious, the spices in the omelet and the crispiness of the bacon are perfect. I find myself thinking if this is what I get when he stays over I'll be asking him to come more often. He pours me coffee into my favorite cauldron mug, pouring in the caramel and chocolate sauce with the caramel mocha creamer I like. When I'm finished, I prepare him another plate and his third black coffee, before going to take a shower and brush my teeth. Gathering clothes from my closet and dresser, I pick out a black skeleton dress, fishnets, and a lacy cardigan. The dress stops at mid-thigh, with cap sleeves, a deep scoop neck, and flares at the end. It silhouettes my athletic, yet shapely figure wonderfully, the material flattering. The lace on the cardigan makes it sheer and is designed with flowers.

Pulling out large hooped pentagram earrings to match, and a long chain necklace that has a scarlet ruby in the metal bat hanging to my ribs. Once my hair and teeth are brushed, I quickly get dressed and find a pair of knee-high platform boots to wear. Keeping my hair down for now, I decided to take two scrunches in case it annoys me today. They also help to keep hair from my eyes while I work. My makeup today is a mix of black and red, eyeliner dark and bold into a long cat eye that goes to my temple and down the bridge of my nose slightly. Eye shadow blended reds and black, packed into the crease of my lids, and brushed high near my thin, dark eyebrows and following the sharp lines of the eyeliner. Coating my lips in midnight black lipstick with a light coat of gloss to make them shine.

I'm in the tiny laundry room at the back of the apartment when Mark finds me, stripped to his tight boxers and the sweats in hand. He pauses at the doorway, eyes wandering along my body and outfit. Words falling short as he does. "Washed the dish-"

I raise my eyebrow, shaking his clean shirt and pants from yesterday at him, the stain now gone. "Mark?"

A flirtatious smile ghosts over his lips, stepping further in, grasping my hips, and softly pinning me to the dryer. "You're fuckin gorgeous, ya know that? Love seeing you in fishnets. And this damn dress, shitt.."

The boots I'm wearing put us at the same height, I don't need to look up slightly or stand on my toes to reach his lips properly. I can just roll my eyes while smiling and kissing him easily. Enjoying the compliment, aware he means every word and implication of his thoughts on my outfit. He has always shown his appreciation of whatever I wear, no matter if it's just a hoodie and witch graphic-designed leggings. Flirty and suggestive in the comments, but always with genuine praise. "You tell me almost every day. But thank you, I'm glad you like the dress, it's decently new."

"Almost every day? I need to step my game the fuck up!" He pulls back to take another long, appreciative gaze at my dress and legs. A hand rises to slide over my shoulder, the sleeves revealing no bra straps, eyebrows raising with a smirk. "I definitely love this on you, Doll. You even wearing a damn bra? Not that I'm complaining, it's fucking hot."

I laugh, hugging his waist. "Not that it's your business, but I'm wearing a strapless bra."

His eyes instantly go to my chest, studying. "Well, shit, sweetheart. You went and ruined my fantasy."

He chuckles, evading the teasing slaps I give to his chest and arms. "You're such a pig!"

"You can't blame me for daydreaming when you're so fuckin sexy, Hun." He grips my wrists and leans closer, passionately kissing my glossy lips. Invading with tongue and successfully distracting me from the conversation. Letting myself lean against him, be taken with affection and love be the focus of my mind for a moment. Delighted at how tightly he holds me, as if I'll disappear the second he releases. I can taste coffee and mint on his lips, no doubt having brushed his teeth and drank more coffee.

Eventually, reluctantly, I pull away with a tiny push at his chest to keep him at bay when he tries to steal more kisses. "Mark, I need to get to work! We can't just makeout all day, no matter how much I'd like to."

He scoffs, but relents and steals the bundle of clothes from my hand, whining. "Damn, fine. One day, I'll get you to see things my way, Batty."

Humming, I nod while taking his arm and walking us from the laundry room. Teasing, "I'm sure you will, Mr. Pumpkin King."

Mark chortles, huffing. Pausing our walk through the hall to peck my temple, careful of my makeup. "Give me a minute to get dressed, then we'll make some smoothies to go. I'll drop you off at work today, I have a short day and can pick you up later."

"You sure? What about that annoying client? I thought you had more shit to find out." My genuine question and concern over his job gain a smug smirk as he shrugs.

"I've got everything I need, just gotta deliver proof. Should be fucking quick, then we can go to dinner with the damn well-earned check I get. How's that sound?" I grin, happy he'll have some time off today and wants to spend some of it with me.

"Sounds amazing! Now go get dressed, you're too fucking tempting!" He laughs when I push him towards my room, turning to teasingly thumb the waistline of his boxers.

"C'mon Sweetheart! You know you want it!"