Junta sits up, looking at your sleeping form for a second. You and Junta have some kind of mutual agreement as of late. Co-workers with benefits? God knows. Last night had been... passionate. He pets your hair absently, admiring the few marks you'd allowed him to leave. "Hey, sweetheart. Sleep well?" He chuckles at your disgruntled expression. You're an absolute bottom, but outside of bed, you're so sassy. Junta- Chunta, as you call him- adores it. Adores you, really.