| blue hour is the short period of time before sunrise or after sunset when the sun is just below the horizon. indirect sunlight is evenly diffused and takes on a blue shade |
traveling the world as greta van fleet's touring photographer seemed like...
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When you awoke the next morning, it took you more than a few moments to get your bearings and remember where you were. As you lay on the floor, rubbing your head that had smacked off the hard surface in the midst of your tumble from where you slept, you studied the scene around you in confusion. You were naked, and a glance at the lump digging into your back showed that you were laying on top of a mess of clothing.
Your clothing was mixed with Sam's, scattered all around the floor, and you sat up with a crick in your neck and wide eyes. There he laid, sprawled over the sofa in all of his naked glory, and you were caught between admiring the sight and admonishing it. What the hell had you done?
Through the gaps in the curtains, you could see that it was early in the morning. Golden rays of sunlight were creeping into the room, casting long and low shadows over everything as it hung low over the horizon, and the bus jostled again. The entire structure rocked as the brakes were hit, turning in time with the decrease in speed.
You must be arriving into the next city, you realized, and then the panic set in. If you were arriving, that meant that any minute the others would be awake and you and Sam would be caught. Even if they didn't see it, there'd be no mistaking the implications of a locked door and your disheveled appearances.
"Sam," you hissed, slapping his shoulder and rolling your eyes when he groaned and rolled away from the contact, "Sam, wake up!"
Growling, his head lolled back in your direction and he squinted at you. "What?" he whined, but then his eyes popped open and he chuckled, "Well, this is a nice way to wake up."
It was then that you remembered you were still naked, and you scoffed as you drew your hands up to cover your chest. There really wasn't any point to the act, considering he'd already seen it all and touched it, but it was different in that context. Plus, you could see that the sight of your body clearly made him excited and that was the last thing you needed at that moment.
He had no shame about it. Ever comfortable with his body and exceedingly arrogant in the appreciation of it, he laid there with his dick out without a care. You could see his smirk growing as you fought to keep your eyes from drifting back in that direction, finding it hard to look away--sort of like a trainwreck. Despite the way your own body reacted, you were more focused on the urgent matters at hand.
Another creak of the brakes rocked the bus again, and Sam sat up as you urged, "Get dressed. We have to get out of here before anyone wakes up." Still, he took his sweet time in doing so.
You tried not to grow flustered as he reclined back on the sofa with his hands behind his head, watching your every move like a hawk as you stumbled around the tiny space to get dressed again. Out of habit, you turned your back toward him as you put your undergarments on in an attempt to maintain some semblance of modesty, but you realized your mistake when you bent over to put on your panties and his hands reached out to grab your hips. You'd barely managed to get them on before he pulled you into his lap, your back flush with his chest and his erection pinned between your ass and his abdomen.
