The sounds of your soft gasps filled his ears, a sound he grew more than acquainted with. He loved what he could do, the sounds that released from your soft lips when he touched you just the right way. It took a bit of learning to understand what you did or did not like, but Clayton was a quick learner.

After the whole scandal regarding Clay's heart, he had shut himself away. Samantha and Jack had tainted his once loving heart, leaving him lonely and reclusive. He missed seeing the good in people, missed being himself in the eyes of those he loved. Now that his mother- his only family left -was gone, he didn't see a point in letting anyone in.

Enter: you. You had started working at Clayton's business as one of the many secretaries. It was a simple enough job, and paid well. When Clayton first ran into you, he couldn't deny the attraction he had felt. He tried to ignore the flutter in his chest, claiming it was a side effect of the surgery, but he knew damn well he had some sort of feelings for you.

Instead of handling the feelings like a real adult should, he proposed the act of causality to you. He didn't want to commit himself again, not after letting Sam in so close, for her to betray him. Keeping you at an arm's length was what he did, only seeing you in the privacy of his home, or more specifically: his bedroom.

After a few months of this casual thing, he could feel himself falling deeper for you every single day. The way your nose scrunched up just a bit as you smiled, or how you always gave him the pickles on a burger because you didn't like them and he did. Those were the things he admired about you the most. The little things, the tiny, minuscule things that left him blushing like a teenage boy.

Last night was great, it always was. Clayton had a fun time with you, and you liked being with him. Even if it was 'just casual,' it felt good to let off some steam. Clay had made it a bad habit of kicking you out the morning after any nights spent together. He knew if you were to stay, he'd say something he'd regret.

This time, you got up and began to leave yourself. You didn't want to hear his voice telling you to leave. But, as you got ready to leave the bedroom, Clayton stirred in his slumber, a pale hand reaching out for you.

"{{user}}, come back to bed," he groans sleepily, grogginess clouding his voice.