"I'm too tired, and hungry, and I don't want to do any more work," I groaned, slamming my laptop shut with too much enthusiasm. I'd been writing a basic essay draft for the past two hours (and by basic I meant a few hundred words accompanied by a mess of bright red annotations I was certain my module leader would not understand), and now I was absolutely sick of it. "My brain isn't working."

Already slumped into Markus' sofa, I sat so close to him that our thighs were almost touching. When I threw my head back in despair, my cheek grazed against his shoulder. With my cheek pressed against the cool faux-leather of the sofa, I stared blankly at said shoulder. So close to him, the sheer size of the muscled body-part eclipsed my entire vision. And, in my exhausted state, it looked so comfortable that I had to stop myself from leaning towards him and cuddling into his side like a lunatic.

I already knew what it felt like to be tucked snugly into his side; I knew what an excellent feeling it was to awake encased in his arms with my back pressed against his chest. He was an exceedingly comfortable man to cuddle with. Which made it even more difficult to resist my urges. Despite knowing how much more work I had to do and how unlikely I was to do any of it over the weekend, I wanted nothing more than to sink into his arms and fall asleep. I wanted to bury myself in the warmth of him, to breathe in his scent as if it were the air I needed to breathe.

Too much. I wanted too much. Lack of sleep had clearly dragged me into delusion.

"How much more do you have to do?" Markus asked, in a voice low and hoarse from the hours of disuse while we worked.

My eyes closed at the sound, and I breathed deeply, savouring this quiet moment of rest before I had to force myself to open my laptop again. "I'm finished. No more work to do."

Markus hummed, and my breath caught in my throat when I felt something brush against my jaw. My eyes snapped open to find Markus' head stooped towards me, a barely there smile curved on in lips. "How much do you have left?"

"More than half," I grumbled, and without thinking, hid my face in the space between Markus and the sofa. His body was warm against me, and it only encouraged the drooping of my eyes. I didn't know what time it was, but I knew I wanted to be in bed right now. Markus' bed.

Though muffled, I heard his laughter. It was a subdued, deep sound that rumbled up from his chest and shook his whole body. "Come on." A hand pressed to the back of my neck, fingers threading through the messy bun I had tied earlier, and Markus shifted lower so he could see my face. "What do you need to get this done? Caffeine? Food? A ten-minute break?"

"Yes," I breathed, feeling like I might cry at how good that all sounded. "Yes, to everything."

"Okay," Markus' eyes were bright as he stared down at me, "Let's get up first, then."

Neither of us moved, though. It felt as if my limbs had melted into the sofa, and there was no hope of ever separating myself from it. Nor did I want to. I could easily fall asleep like this, and sleep wasn't always an easy thing for me to succumb to.

Markus moved closer, close enough that for a second his nose brushed mine. "You're not getting up," he murmured. "Why aren't you getting up?"

"You're so pretty."

Markus reeled back, just an inch, a frown furrowing across his brow as colour dusted his cheeks. "What?"

Grinning as I surveyed him, I reached out to smooth his frown. He sucked in a sharp breath at my touch. "I like your eyebrows. They're a nice shape."

"My eyebrows?"

"You spend most of your time scowling. It would be hard not to notice them," I sniggered, and dragged my fingers down the length of his nose. "I like this too. I like that it's a little crooked."

Markus stared at me for a prolonged moment of silence, head tilted as if in thought. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter than before. "I broke it when I was sixteen. Elbow to the face during rugby."

I knew it. Of course he'd played Ruby at school.

I hummed, staring at his lips while he spoke. My thumb swiped across his lower lip. "I like your mouth, as well," I confessed, in a soft, feather-like volume. I like your mouth a lot.

Markus' throat bobbed, and secretly I delighted in all of these small actions that revealed just how affected he felt by me. He was staring at me with heavy eyes, his lips parted just enough that his every breath tickled against my own as I found myself suddenly so very, very close to him.

This was new; this level of physical affection while we were both sober. And I found myself eager for it. I was hungry for any morsel of affection he threw my way, happy with anything he was comfortable with.

Swallowing heavily, I noted the hand Markus had threaded through my hair was still there, fingers curled tight against the blonde strands, holding my head in place as if he feared I would evaporate at any second.

"Dais-"

Bisto was barking, and the sudden, loud noise was enough to snap me out of the haze I had fallen into. I jerked back quickly, only faintly hearing Markus' sigh, to twist towards the balcony door where Bisto sat, staring through the glass.

Brilliant timing, Bisto... If your goal was to be a total cock-block, that is.

"Does she need to go out?"

"Yeah." Markus grumbled, sounding annoyed, but stood to let Bisto out. Glancing over his shoulder at me, still sat on the sofa and staring unabashed at his arse in his joggers, he instructed, "There's snacks in the fridge if you want to grab anything. Milk too, the almond one. I'll make you a coffee."

"Gross," I gagged childishly. "Almond? Really? That's objectively the worst milk."

"Do you have strong opinions about every drink? Or just the ones I like?" Markus asked dryly.

I shuddered as I meandered over to his kitchen, scrunching my face is exaggerated disgust.

"It's not my fault you choose icky drinks," I told him seriously. "You need to sort yourself out, mate."

"Don't call me mate."

I rolled my eyes. "Soz, pal, buddy, bro, dud- Fuck me, is this really your fridge?" I asked incredulously, gaping at the abundance of fresh fruit and vegetables, stacks of pre-prepared meals, bottles of Kombucha and other health drinks, and a fuck-ton of eggs. "Fucking hell, my poor little student eyes haven't seen so much food in over a year. Is it always this full?" I couldn't even remember the last time I opened a fridge, and it didn't contain takeaway leftovers or alcohol. Most of the time, there was only enough collective food between Sarah and me to fill one shelf. When we did a large food shop, I often cleaned out mould from the vegetable draw a week later because I had forgotten about half of it.

"It can't be that bad." Markus suddenly appeared behind me, taking me by surprise as he reached over my shoulder to grab the carton of milk.

"Have you seen a student fridge recently?"

"Yeah, I'm in a new student flat every weekend, inspecting the fridges," Markus answered sarcastically. He laughed when I flicked his ear.

"Don't be a tit."

I followed him over to the kitchen counter by the sink, swinging my hip against him. "Seriously, why is your fridge so aesthetic? Are you one of those health freak people?"

"Almost sounds like you don't want me to make you a fucking coffee?"

That shut me up.

The fact Markus even had coffee was baffling. Not just the instant kind that most people used, either. He pulled out a fancy-looking coffee machine to the front of the counter, one that he barely knew how to turn on, and made me a stunning caramel flavoured latte. Or, more accurately, several caramel lattes throughout the evening and early morning. We'd stayed up late working, and thankfully, I miraculously finished most of what I needed to do. By the end of the study session, I was simultaneously half-asleep and a jittery sugary mess.

At three am, Bisto and Markus walked me home, with an invitation to return the next morning to continue our work - and return his joggers. I wasn't sure if my response had been intelligible, with my voice slurred with sleep, but I had nodded my head all the same and dragged myself up to my flat, where I fell straight into bed.

It was a good thing he had invited me back, because in my tired state I had completely forgotten to bring my laptop home with me.

The next morning, having great difficulty forcing myself out of bed, I returned Markus' flat just before lunch. This worked well for Markus though, as it gave him enough time to go for another run with Bisto and shower before I arrived. The very thought of going for a morning run had me feeling sick. How Markus had that much energy and sheer will-power after our late night studying was frankly astounding.

Now, I was sitting on his living room floor by his feet, with Bisto sat between my legs trying to bite at my hands playfully. I had long since abandoned my laptop, and truthfully, I had done very little else to my draft. I'd called it quits and my tutor was just going to accept it. Markus, unlike me, was a diligent student and appeared to be doing something productive while I wrestled with his puppy.

Every now and again, his foot would tap against me. Or Bisto would decide I wasn't enough entertainment and try to attack his ankle, and while trying to escape her clutches, he would shift in his seat and the entirety of his bare leg would press into me. It seemed ridiculous that such small actions could leave me so flustered, yet I'd been turned on and hyper-aware of his every move for the past half hour.

When Bisto had once again grown tired of just my attention, she stood between my legs with her front paws rested on my shoulder, and stretched her little neck up towards him, barking and wagging her tail. Markus laughed, and with my back still facing him, I heard him close his laptop. Suddenly he caged me between his thighs and as he scratched Bisto behind the ear, the back of his hand brushed teasingly against my neck. It rendered me frozen in place as he leaned closer still, murmuring affectionately to Bisto, and his voice vibrated pleasingly in my ear.

God, is it weird that I want to curl into his lap and purr like a fucking cat? I'd give anything to have him stay right there and talk to me in that voice all day long.

Vivid memories of Markus' mouth against my neck, of his voice in my ear as he fucked me on this very sofa overwhelmed me in an instant. My body throbbed at the dozen new fantasies my brain quickly fabricated. Fantasies of him taking me from behind, whispering the filthiest things.

The front door, without warning, burst open to reveal Lynch, Andres and Alec, all three of them wearing wide, mischievous grins that had a sense of unease settling inside of me. They seemed a little too eager as they bounded inside, looking between Markus and me as if expecting to find something interesting happening.

But no. In their eyes, Markus was paying all his attention to his puppy, while I sat on the floor, innocent as could be. The disappointment in their expressions was too easy to read. They didn't know the absolute mess that was my underwear. I felt unbelievably flustered, and so desperate for Markus' touch that my first instinct at the sight of his friends was to scream at them to leave us the fuck alone. Thankfully, I had curbed such an impulse.

At their arrival Bisto went wild, jumping in front of me and barking her little head off as if to ward them away.

You tell 'em, Baby.

"I told you arseholes eight. It's fucking four pm." Markus said behind me in a harsh tone, seeming just as pleased to see them as Bisto. Like father, like daughter. He threw his laptop across the sofa and crossed the room, Bisto right on his heels. She was still barking, but remained half hidden behind his legs.

It wasn't quite as menacing as Bisto probably would have liked. Especially as Alec dropped into a crouch and held out his hands for her with a smile, cooing, "Hey Gravy-Baby." She was still barking as she darted towards him, her little legs surging her forward until her head hit his knee before she could stop herself. He scooped her up, cradling her in his arms, and nuzzled the back of her neck. And that was the end of her guard-dog duties.

"Yeah, it's 'Let's get fucked-up four'. What don't you get?" Lynch scoffed, jerking his head away when Alec held Bisto up to his face to give him a kiss. "Not the mouth, you dickhead."

Andres added, "You're the birthday boy. We're obligated to surprise you with celebrations!"

Fucking what now? Birthday?

"Birthday boy says fuck off," Markus grumbled, and for a second I was genuinely afraid he might smack one of them. His friends didn't seem to share that same fear. Andres and Lynch pushed past him, each armed with plastic Morrisons carrier bags that were stretching a little too thin at the handles with the weight inside.

Lynch smiled a smugly, and chimed cheerfully, "Noted," while he began unloading the straining carrier bags onto Markus' kitchen counters. There was a lot of alcohol, enough to sustain a student party of at least ten. Was their birthday gift to Markus getting his stomach pumped at the end of the night?

"Uh," I cleared my throat, "What's happening?" And why do I feel like I've just been ambushed? Markus and I had spoken about our ages just yesterday at the library, and he had made no such mention of his birthday. Secretive little bastard.

Had he not wanted me to know it was his birthday? It was likely I was reading too much into this, as I often did. Even so, the lack of awareness had me feeling unwelcome, and like I was intruding.

"Party time!" Andres shouted, brandishing a bottle of Smirnoff in one hand and Jim Beam in the other, breaking out into a weird looking dance.

"It's your birthday?" I asked Markus accusingly.

I didn't get him a present. What would I even buy him? I barely know what he likes. Do I buy him fucking tea? Almond milk? Gross.

"Uh, yeah," Markus grunted, rubbing at the back of his neck. He glanced between me and his friends, looking a little lost.

"Cool, uh..." Lynch and Andres were still unpacking the bags. There were various mixers, paper cups, more alcohol, and many things still left to be unpacked. Was there a social cue I was missing? Had I outstayed my welcome? "Happy birthday, then. Should I - I should probably leave you to it then, yeah?" I said, awkwardly pulling myself up from the floor.

Markus was scowling at me now. What I had done to deserve such a look eluded me.

It wasn't Markus that answered me, but Lynch who was already twisting off the cap to the vodka. "Why would you leave? The parties just getting started!"

Andres nodded a little too eagerly, while Markus still seemed irritated by the changes to his schedule. He offered no objections to the prospect of me staying, though, so I merely shrugged and shuffled over to the kitchen to join them all.

It shouldn't have surprised me. Thirty minutes later, when Andres and Lynch were three drinks in, walking around without shirts on and noisily hunting around in Markus' cupboards for 'shot ingredients', whatever they were. Normally, if anyone was acting as wild as they were after three drinks, I would suspect them of being massive lightweights. But after witnessing the measures they were using, I was more surprised that they could still speak without slurring.

In an hour's time, all that alcohol is going to hit them all at once and they're gonna' be on the bloody floor.

Feeling a lot more sober than they looked, I had made myself comfortable on the sofa with Alec who was still nursing his first beer, and Roman who had arrived fifteen minutes ago with two bottles of wine after an enthusiastic and slightly tipsy Lynch had called him.

Markus, Andres and Lynch all remained in the kitchen, arguing over a new topic every five minutes.

"Oh, Grim's a real horny drunk," Alec confessed conspiringly behind his hand, noticing my attention had strayed across the room for the thousandth time, to where Markus was leaning back against a kitchen counter, watching me heatedly. I'd caught him frequently staring over at us, at me, completely unabashed.

"Oh really," I drawled, smirking as I swirled the glass of red wine in my hands a little too haphazardly. Wiggling my brows suggestively as I added, "How interesting."

Alec and Roman shared a look. He seemed amused as he asked, "Daisy, are you drunk right now? How much have you had?"

The ridiculous urge to giggle bubbled up into my chest, and coloured my voice as I drawled, "I am horny, if that's what you're asking." Indeed, there was a distinctly familiar warmth pooling within me as I eyed Markus across the room. But in all honesty, I wasn't sure I had ever cooled down from earlier.

Markus, distracted by Lynch and Andre's again, suddenly looked as if he was having the worst time. There was a scowl on his face as he muttered something to his friends in a tone I imagined was far from friendly. God, he was such a fucking grump. I loved it.

Unlike his two friends, he'd kept his shirt on, and somehow, a plain black t-shirt had become the sexiest item of clothing I'd ever seen. The thin material stretched over his broad shoulders and fitted well against his abdomen, making it impossible to forget how fit he was beneath his clothes. Though I was sure he could wear anything and make it look attractive.

The sound of Alec's laughter drew my attention back to him, just in time for me to hear Roman mutter, "She does this all the time."

"What?" What were they talking about? Me? "I do what all the time?"

Roman bared a wide, toothy grin at me, and gestured in the kitchen's direction. "You and your drooling."

Oh shit, I had been staring again.

"Oops," I laughed, my cheeks warming. Alec was laughing, which didn't help the situation at all. I didn't need him, or any of Markus' friends, to know the extent of my lust. That was mortifying.

"Do you think wine's an aphrodisiac?" Roman mused, swirling his own glass of rose wine - a horrible, cheap brand that tasted of juice and only people who didn't actually like wine drank. Thankfully, the wine he'd brought me upon my request was decent, albeit also cheap.

"It is for Daisy, apparently," Alec teased.

"No really," Roman enthused, edging forward in his seat, "I think I read somewhere that red wine affects women's sex drive. There was a study done or something."

"Wait seriously?" I took a generous swig of my wine, reaching for the bottle by my feet. "Because I genuinely get so horny after, like, just one glass of red wine. Are you having me on?"

"I mean, I don't drink red wine, so I can't say for sure. I'm also not a woman," Roman added as an afterthought. He finished the rest of his glass, reaching for his own bottle of wine stuffed between two cushions on the sofa. He was drinking as if he were trying to catch up with the idiots across the room who were doing shots at 4.30pm.

"No," I smacked his arm slightly. "I meant, did you actually read this somewhere?"

"Oh yeah, I think... Maybe," he said, eyes narrowed in thought. "Maybe you just have a wine kink."

"That can't be a real thing," I scoffed.

"You'd be surprised."

"Kind of sounds like you have weird kinks, Roman, you little perv."

"Nothing beyond a little light role playing. You?" Roman asked, nodding at me vigorously with a smirk curling deviously across his mouth.

"I'd say-"

Alec cleared his throat, hiding a grin behind his beer glass. "I think I should leave for this conversation."

"Why?" I asked without thought, having not considered that some people have a filter and rightfully don't share every single detail of their lives with others. He didn't look uncomfortable, though. He looked as if he found this entire conversation amusing.

"Yeah," Roman pouted, "Why? Afraid we'll ask about yours?"

Alec spluttered around a mouthful of beer, his cheeks tingeing pink. "No. But considering Grim's my best mate, I'm not sure I want to hear about their," he nodded at me, "sex life."

I snorted, the sound dissolving into a quiet laugh. "Hardly a sex life. It happened once... Okay, technically twice. Three times if we count mouth stuff. But it was all in one night, so again, just once, really. Lots or orgasms, though."

"This is already too much information," Alec groaned, standing.

Roman was cackling, rolling towards me on the sofa to press his face into my arm. "But Daisy hasn't described each orgasm in vivid detail yet!" He said through his laughter. My stomach was aching, and there were tears in my eyes. Alec flipped him off. It proved too much for me when, while Alec was walking away, Roman called out, "Don't you want to see the hyper realistic sketches of his penis?"

Suddenly we were both folded in on one another, a mass of vibrating limbs and howling laughter.

I think this is possibly my favourite chapter of the book so far - next chapter is going to be a smutty one, so be warned