I'm Your Wreck

33- I'm Gentle

There was a crack in Banks's mirror, up at the corner by the wooden frame. It wasn't there the day before.

I stared at it as I laid in his arms, feeling his breaths against my bare back with his light snores in my ear. Memories of last name came back in white hot flashes and I vaguely remembered bracing myself against the mirror a little too hard after some particularly rough thrusts. Maybe there was a cracking sound in the background of panting and moaning and every other blissful sound we'd made together. I couldn't remember.

"Good morning," Banks eased into consciousness behind me. His morning voice, deep and mumbled, warmed my bones with his lips brushing against the lobe of my ear. His arms tightened around my midsection as he peppered two soft kisses to my neck. "How are you feeling?"

"Amazing," I said, returning his kiss by pressing my lips to his knuckles before I added, "Sore."

His laugh reverberated through me, as if our bodies were connected, working as one being with a connected nervous system. "That'll get easier. Sleep good?"

"Like a rock."

"Me too. Last night was... a fucking dream." He kissed my shoulder and then I maneuvered myself so that we were facing each other, so that I could find his mouth with mine for a chaste morning kiss.

Our limbs were tangled with each other, four legs, four arms, mangled around torsos and in hair and hands following the curve of ass cheeks.

"Better than I ever thought it could be," I said, my face half buried in his hair.

Downstairs, the sound of feminine giggling echoed through the house. Probably some combination of Morgan, Bridgette, and Beth- all of whom might have stayed over last night.

Banks ran his fingers lightly over the smudged Sharpie tattoo he drew on my arm last night. "Would you ever let me give you a real one?"

"A real tattoo?" I asked stupidly. "What would you want to give me?"

"Not sure yet," he pondered. "Something personal to you, not like my name or anything."

I started examining his tattoos, thinking about how absolutely sexy they looked on him. I wouldn't be able to pull them off nearly as well as he did, but I wasn't completely opposed to it.

"How bad do they hurt?"

"Depends on where you get it," he answered me, a smirk on his lips. "But don't worry about that, I'm gentle."

I laughed, pulling his body closer to mine. "You're not that gentle."

"Gentle enough," he remarked between soft kisses.

More chatter was heard downstairs, voices indiscernible from each other except for Kenji's loud, croaking kind of laugh.

"I guess we should go join the party," he muttered with a low sigh. "As much as I'd rather just stay in bed with you all day, I'm starving and I promised Ollie I'd take him shopping for clothes later."

"Why does Ollie need help shopping for clothes?" I asked, trying not to turn my voice into a whine because all I wanted to do was wrap our bodies together under these blankets like a burrito, tangled up like that until the end of time.

"All of his underwear have holes in them and whenever he goes on a date with Morgan, he has to raid my closet. For shirts, not underwear."

"I've never seen him try that hard when he's talking to a new girl."

"Me either," he responded fondly. "He's got it pretty bad for her. He even wears jeans on their dates, unlike somebody else I know."

"Hey, if you take me somewhere nice, I'll wear jeans."

"One of your two pairs?" he teased. "How will you be able to decide which ones to wear?"

"I will agonize for hours before I give up and call Quinn," I said, unwrapping my legs from his so that we could slowly start to unfurl ourselves from the blankets.

Banks laughed, kissed my nose, and then slid on the first pair of boxers he could find in his dresser. I slid into the joggers I was wearing last night and then used the now-cracked mirror to fix my bed hair. It still looked terrible when I was done trying to adjust it, but maybe a little bit less terrible.

Again, I caught myself staring at that crack, remembering the night before and all the things that happened that might have caused it.

After getting dressed, Banks approached behind me and kissed my bare shoulder. "I didn't like that mirror anyway," he said with a jovial laugh. In the mirror, I watched as his eyes roamed down my chest and then he added, "You really are unfathomably hot."

I was starting to feel my body getting tight, so before he could leer any longer with that hungry look in his eye, I asked him, "Do you want to go downstairs or not?"

"Yes, we're going," he assured me, but his eyes remained locked on the reflection of my torso, down to the loose waist band of my pants.

"If you keep looking at me like that, I'm taking you back to bed," I warned him when my knees were going weak.

He shuddered against me, his lips curling into a full blown smirk, as if to say 'I dare you' but before I could accept his challenge, Banks was stepping away.

"Okay, okay. We're going," he insisted again, this time actually managing to part himself from me so that we could leave the room.

By the time we got to the kitchen, the rest of the house was gathered in the dining room, including all three girls, with plates full of food.

"Kenji made breakfast for everybody," Beth announced to us when we stepped into the room. "Better hurry and grab some, Walker is inhaling the pancakes at an alarming rate."

"They're really good," Walker defended himself as his girlfriend affectionately ran her fingers through his reddish curls.

"You two left the party pretty early last night," Ollie noted with an accusatory look between me and Banks.

"So observational," he responded sarcastically before making a bee line toward the kitchen.

"You missed Walker performing the entire final act of Breaking Bad," Kenji informed me with a wry laugh. "It was quite moving."

"He does that every time he drinks Fireball," I responded.

"This was his best performance yet," he insisted with a mouthful of pancakes.

"His Walter White impersonation was oddly impressive," Bridgette said with a tired laugh and then cringed at the headache that ensued. Everybody looked to be pretty hungover, except for maybe Kenji.

"What did you two get up to last night?" Kenji asked me, his eyebrows wiggling suggestively just as Banks returned to the room with two plates of food.

"Nothing," I said quickly.

Banks sat a plate in front of me, taking the seat to my left. "I kicked his ass in Guitar Hero. Everybody saw that, right?"

I rolled my eyes. "I told you, I let you win."

He laughed. "Right, right. Because of the dimples, I remember. But flattery won't get you anywhere and we both know I won fair and square."

"Hey, did you guys know that cousins share twelve percent of their DNA?" Kenji mentioned, glancing eagerly around the table.

I rolled my eyes. "You are insufferable."

"What?" Walker voiced everybody else's confusion.

"I'm just saying, the math is there. Liam is twelve percent attracted to Ollie," he explained, grinning and looking so proud of himself for this little fact that makes no actual mathematical or scientific sense.

"I think that math would only work if Liam is one hundred percent attracted to me," Banks said, looking so amused by Kenji's stupid theory.

"Which, I am," I admitted, at least not embarrassed about that. "But he's still not making any sense. That's not how DNA works."

"Now that you mention it, we do look a lot alike," Ollie joined in with a cackle of laughter.