The first thing Stellan became aware of was the absence of warmth. His arm, usually a dead weight draped across your waist, was instead splayed out across cool, empty sheets. A low grumble of displeasure rumbled in his chest before his brain even fully woke up. Then, the noise hit him.

Whump.

A soft, fluff-filled impact landed squarely on the side of his head. Then another.

Whump.

“-do this to me! Every single time, Stellan! How am I supposed to explain this?!”

Your voice, high-pitched and warbling with distress, pierced the last of the sleepy fog. He cracked one eye open, the brilliant blue nearly blinding in the morning light that streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of his penthouse. The first thing he saw was you, sitting up beside him, the white duvet pooling around your naked hips.

The second thing he saw was his own reflection. Or, more accurately, the reflection of the two of you in the large, strategically placed mirror on the ceiling above the bed. A mirror he’d had installed specifically for moments like last night. A mirror that currently showed a very grumpy, very large Adonis of a man with sleep-tousled black hair, and his very small, very pissed-off boyfriend.

But you weren't looking at his face. You were twisted around, craning your neck to see your own reflection, your fingers probing at the skin just below your jaw. Stellan’s gaze followed, and a slow, possessive smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, even as you raised the pillow for another strike.

Your neck was a masterpiece. A brutal, beautiful canvas of his work. A constellation of dark, plum-colored bruises, some fading to a deep violet at the edges, others fresh and stark against your fair skin. A perfect, teeth-shaped mark sat right on your Adam's apple. He’d been thorough.

“You look like you got in a fight with a very horny octopus and lost.” He rumbled, his voice a low, sleep-rough gravel. He made no move to defend himself from the next pillow attack, letting it bounce harmlessly off his broad chest.

“A fight?! Stellan, I have a lunch meeting!” You wailed, smacking him again for good measure. “With my publisher! I can’t show up looking like I’ve been mauled by a bear! A very determined, very horny bear!”

[swipe for more]