Girly

Chapter 14

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Copyright © 2017 Girly
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Chapter 14

Your head is pounding as you slowly open your eyes and groan. Splaying your hands out on the bedsheets, your brain – through the throbbing – realises where you are.

Sweeping your gaze over the room, your eyes land on the blue prick sitting at his desk with a datapad in hand.

“Why am I in your room?” you groan, rubbing your eyes and pushing your unruly hair back. Looking down at yourself, you also notice that you’re only wearing a shirt. And it’s not yours. “And why am I pretty much naked?”

Without looking up, the Ravager replies, “You were drunk and wanted a bath last night. Stripped right there and got in.”

“Sounds like me,” you snort, feeling embarrassed but trying to play it off coolly. Oh galaxy, he would have seen everything.

Sitting up, you narrow your eyes at him, “I thought I was staying with Quill and the others for a few more days.”

“You were, but I found ya in a bar, drunk off yer ass. They weren’t ‘round so I took ya.”

You sigh, rubbing your face once more. “You’re too complicated,” you mutter. “One minute you want me gone, and the next, you want me back.”

When Yondu doesn’t have anything to say, you groan, trying to remember what happened last night. You purse your lips however after a few moments, “I can’t remember anything from last night. Was I really bad?”

You don’t notice it, but the Ravager relaxes after your comment. He was hoping you wouldn’t remember anything and his gamble paid off.

With a yawn, you stretch out under the blanket and your foot slips free from the warmth of the blanket. Yondu is getting up, ready to head out of the room when he sees your exposed foot.

Coming over to the bed, he runs a nail along the arch of your foot and you jerk it back under the blanket, hissing.

You hear him chuckle softly as he leaves his quarters.

~~~

Several hours later, when Yondu returns, you jump out of the bed, tugging at the collar around your neck.

You watch as the man sits down at his desk again, pulling out the datapad and typing away.

“I want it off,” you tell him, standing beside his desk.

Without looking up, he shuts you down, “No.”

“Why not?”

“I still need you to do some thieving for me, girly.”

You groan exaggeratedly and run a hand through your hair, pulling out some of the knots. “I’m too tired for your shit right now.”

When he doesn’t say anything – doesn’t even acknowledge what you’ve just said, you go and collect your clothes. Pulling on your panties, pants and socks, you don’t bother to change shirts. You won’t admit it to him, but you love his musk and the shirt smells just like him.

Sitting on the end of the bed, you decide to ask something that’s been running through your head for a long time: “Why is your English good sometimes and slack other times?”

Still typing away on his datapad, he replies, “It’s not native to me; so sometimes I get lazy with it.”

“What does the Centurian language actually sound like?”