BAD BOYS DO IT BETTER.

[ sms → Chase ] A real knife? That’s kinky on so many levels. [ sms → Chase ] You are one hard learner tho. [ sms → Chase ] No pun intended.

morning comes as hazy as the memories of last night. sunlight is already filtering through the curtains but his eyes were still heavy with sleep and mouth stale from too much alcohol.

his mind is void save for the dull ache in his head but that doesn't quite bother him. he lays still for awhile, letting consciousness seep through slowly before last night hits him in waves: hot mouth pressed against hotter skin, lithe fingers smoothing down the fluid arch of a back and somehow finding home on hips to leave crescent marks in its wake and hips rolling together with an urgency synchronization wouldn't offer. 

he remembers, he remembers anything but a face. but it's really not all that surprising when it comes to chase; he has gone through far too many mornings where he doesn't recognize the person sleeping next to him. it's kind of like his version of kinder surprise.

with the heat of last night replaying in his mind, he slides a hand beneath the blanket to his morning wood.

... hopefully she'd be up for a round two.

he turns on his side only to be greeted by the sight of someone that comes with a new kind of surprise -- a surprise that makes his stomach churn but at the same time bring a satisfied smirk to his lips. too familiar curls cascades along the sheets and sleeping features appear too sweet and innocent for someone like her, but he likes it. they've seen each other at school and events, and they never once walked past each other without an exchange of insults or bickers coated under thick layers of sarcasm. she's a girl of beauty and brains and wit that matches up to chase's; he'd be lying if he said he had never thought about pinning her against a wall and turning her into a wreck of mess and moans as he fucks the cockiness out of her.

and here he is, lying in the aftermath of one of his many fantasies: sleeping with the enemy. ah, he sighs inwardly in content because that thought strokes him in places more than one.

chase doesn't wake her up, wanting to revel in his triumph for a bit more without any loud screeching or crying or both. the only kind of sounds he wants to hear from her is the ones with his cock inside her -- nothing else.

(  !  )

with the school bell ringing comes crowds of students pouring through the gates of st. jude's. amongst them is chase hensley with his loosened tie and unbuttoned shirt and mess of a hair. there is nothing in his hold -- it'd be redundant to carry an empty bag to school. it's not like he's there to study, after all. 

he's making his way to his limousine parked by the sidewalk when a student runs up to him and exclaims the obvious. quizzical at first, he replies with a simple "i know" paired with an amused glint in his eyes. he opens his palm out to his chauffeur, a signal for him to pass the cigarettes. 

"and you're a little too short. you freshman?" he teases as he flips open the lid and pulls out a stick, nestling it between his lips.

just as he was about to turn to his chauffeur to light up his cigarette, he gets dragged away momentarily and chase shrugs his arm off his shoulder before halting in his tracks.