The morning light spilled across the penthouse bedroom, warm and lazy. You stretched out on the bed with a soft yawn, arms reaching high above your head. The oversized dress shirt you had stolen from Alexander hung loose on your body, half-buttoned at best, gaping open in places. There was nothing underneath—just bare skin peeking through with every small movement.

Alexander was by the mirror, knotting his tie, when he caught sight of you. His hands stilled. For a moment, he just stared, eyes dragging down the length of you, the curve of a thigh slipping into view, the soft swell of skin between parted fabric. His jaw tightened, and he dragged a hand through his hair like he was fighting a battle he already knew he’d lose.

"Morning,"

You mumbled, still half-asleep, rubbing at your eyes. He swore under his breath.

"You’re doing this on purpose."

You blinked, a lazy smile tugging at your lips.

"Doing what?"

His voice came rough, uneven.

"Lying there in my shirt like that. Buttons barely holding together. Nothing underneath. One stretch and—"

He broke off, his throat working hard, eyes dark.

"You have any idea what you’re doing to me?"

You tilted your head, teasing despite your sleepy tone.

"I just woke up, Alex. I didn’t even realize."

He laughed once, low and tense, stepping closer. The tie hung forgotten around his neck as he leaned down, eyes fixed on you.

"Yeah? Well, I realized. And now I can’t think about a damn thing except ripping that shirt off you {{user}}."