Not Your Type (Chris Pine FanFic)

Chelsea

Chelsea slowly woke up to a soreness in her abdomen and legs and a thick fogginess in her mind. She took in her surroundings, the downy comforter at her waist, the fresh linen scent, and darkness only broken by the numbers on an alarm clock, and gradually made her way out of the jet-lag haze. Stretching her arms high above her head she was surprised by the twinge of pain in her abs and upper thighs. A soft sound like a squeak slipped out of her mouth as she completed her stretch.

"Good morning," Chris mumbled, his voice raspy.

That's why I'm sore. "Morning," Chelsea whispered, pulling the duvet up over her mouth as she turned to face Chris. In the faint light she could tell his hair was tousled, his eyes thin, tired slits. Chris smirked at her. "What?"

"You're hiding." It was true, she'd pulled the covers up so that all he could see in the electronic blue glow were her eyes. Chelsea smiled. "I've got news for you, I've seen you naked." Chris tugged at the blankets causing Chelsea to giggle and wiggle completely under the covers. "Awww," he smiled as he voiced his disappointment as she moved.

It was completely dark under blankets, she groped in the darkness briefly before finding Chris' body. Her hands explored his torso in the dark before she pulled herself up against him. He moaned in a approval. Chelsea wrapped herself around him in a hug and squeezed tightly, the move allowed her to stretch her sore back. Another morning stretch sound escaped her lips.

"You make curious sounds when you wake up," Chris said.

"I need to exercise more."

"What?"

Mildly embarrassed, Chelsea mumbled, "I'm sore."

Chris didn't respond, which caused Chelsea's embarrassed feelings to multiply. All of a sudden the comforter fluffed upward, an obnoxiously bright light beamed into her blanket fortress as Chris tossed the cover over his head too. "I can't hear you down here," she couldn't see him for the bright light his phone emitted, but she could hear the smile in his voice.

"That's too bright," she said as she shielded her eyes. Chris disappeared above the covers and moved away from her, reaching presumably to put the phone away. She heard a click and a warm, gleam of a lamp filtered through the cotton wrapped around her.

"Better?" Chris asked as he slid back under the covers. He leaned on his side, holding himself on his elbow. The sheets fell smoothly over his shoulders and head, creating a cozy little tent. Lightly Chris brushed her face with his hand. Instinctively her eyes closed. "Why are you sore?" Even with her eyes closed, she could see his smirk. "Ms. Garcia I do believe you're blushing."

Chelsea flopped over on to her stomach, hiding her face and mumbling "shut up" into the pillows. Yet she couldn't help smiling. As the grogginess had completely faded she clearly remembered the evening before. More than the painful conversation or the way their bodies fit together perfectly, she remembered his words. "You are my type. It just took me a while to figure out what my type was." All at once she felt his warm lips on her spine and she squirmed. "Don't move," he spoke into her skin. Chelsea could feel the sheets moving away. A minute passed and she could still the cold breeze of exposure, so she rolled over. In the soft glow of the lamp the room looked yellow. Glancing at the window she could tell it was still dark outside, meaning it was either very late or very early. Jetlag, I hate you,'she thought.  Chris had disappeared, "Where'd you go?"

Muffled sounds came from the entryway. Chelsea covered herself up and leaned in the direction of the noises, trying to see into the dark. Chris' silhouette emerged. He'd put pants on. "Lay back down," he instructed.

"I know it's late, but I don't think I can sleep anymore," stated Chelsea as she stared at Chris. The pants hung loosely off his hips. His waist was slender, which accentuated the broadness of his shoulders. A mountain man, she thought and smiled, he looks like a mountain man. The disheveled hair, the beard, and lack of shirt definitely gave the air of a man who could live off the land and didn't care what anyone thought about it. Chris must have noticed her looking him over, he leaned against the door frame, crossing his ankles as he did so, They just stared at each other. Chelsea hugged the blankets tighter. "What time is it?"