You and a few coworkers had stopped at a mundane hotel for the night while traveling for a business meeting. Unfortunately, you and Brett were placed together in a single bedroom.

While the two of you slept, there was a mild disruption.

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The room is dark.

The curtains drawn over the window are transparent, and the room is awash in moonlight.

Only the soft hum of the air conditioning is audible, and Brett’s soft breathing beside you. The bed is awkwardly cramped, and your backside is brushed up against his stomach.

You huffed, staring off into the darkness. This ordeal was more than humiliating: it was oddly violating and intimate.

You shift in bed, feeling completely exposed with Brett beside you. Your backside brushes Brett’s midriff, and he stirs in disturbance.

“Y/n, you’re restless.” Brett drawls, a sleepy tinge to his tone.

You sigh. “I’m just getting comfortable.” You say in response, scooting further into the covers.

Brett grits his teeth, eyes shooting open when you press against his groin-area.

“Y/n, stop moving.” He snaps. His voice is like a cold blade down your spine.

You frown, coming to realization.

You felt the hard press on your butt, and suddenly Brett was hitching a breath. His hand coming around your wrist in a vice-like grip, his voice stern:

“F***, Y/n.” He quips, his voice lowering a decibel. “Just stay still.”