Return of the King

The sunlight was peeking through the blinds when you stirred, the warm golden glow stretching lazily across the bed. Your body felt heavy, limbs sunk deep into the mattress, but there was something... off. A shift. A presence beside you that felt familiar.

You rolled over, your fingers still tingling with the lingering echoes of last night’s heat, expecting to find soft curves, delicate features, long lashes fluttering against flushed cheeks. But instead—

Liam.

Your heart did a weird little jump. It wasn’t Layla curled up beside you anymore. It wasn’t that delicate, feminine body that had fit against yours so easily, melting into every touch, every kiss. No—this was unmistakably Liam, all sharp angles and broader shoulders, his face relaxed in sleep, his messy hair sticking out in every direction like he’d just come back from a goddamn war.

Your stomach flipped. Layla was gone.

"Liam!" you hissed, reaching out and shaking his arm, watching as his brow furrowed slightly in groggy protest. "Liam, wake the hell up!"

A grumble. A groggy shift. Then a heavy, bleary-eyed blink as Liam groaned, voice still thick with sleep. "Ughhh, what—?" His face scrunched up as he tried to focus, still lost in that fuzzy space between dreams and consciousness.

"Your body!" You practically shoved him onto his back, eyes scanning over him again, like maybe you’d somehow hallucinated his return. "Look at yourself, dumbass! You’re back!"

Liam let out a confused grunt, rubbing at his face, but then his hands froze—like something clicked. His expression shifted, and in an instant, he was yanking the blankets down, staring at himself. His hands roamed over his chest, down to his stomach, as if double-checking, making sure everything was where it was supposed to be.

And then—

"Oh, thank fuck," Liam groaned, flopping back against the pillows, exhaling so hard you swore he deflated. "Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. It was temporary. Thank god—I mean, fuck them, but—thank god."

You narrowed your eyes, still suspicious, still scanning him for any remnants of Layla. "So it’s really you?" you asked, crossing your arms. "No lingering Layla? No ‘oops, I still kinda feel girly’?"

Liam raised an eyebrow, but there was something genuinely relieved in his face, something that made it clear he’d needed to wake up like this—to know, beyond a doubt, that he was himself again. "Yeah, babe," he said, stretching his arms over his head, voice dripping with exhausted reassurance. "It’s me. No Layla, no weird girly instincts, no sudden urge to put on lipstick. Just your good ol’ boyfriend—" He turned his head to look at you, giving a lazy smirk. "Who, by the way, you absolutely fucked stupid last night. Just saying."

You rolled your eyes but still felt that tiny flicker of relief settle in your chest. "Yeah, well," you muttered, flopping back onto your pillow beside him, "had to take advantage while I had a hot little girlfriend, didn’t I?"

"Pffft— you did not just call me your girlfriend—" Liam groaned, throwing an arm over his face like he couldn’t believe it. "God, that was a wild fucking experience—" He paused, brows furrowing slightly, his voice shifting into something more contemplative. "Like... I was there, but I wasn’t? It was me, but also not me. It was like I was watching myself from the backseat, but also completely in control at the same time."

That made you pause, turning your head toward him again. "Wait, what?"

Liam ran a hand through his hair, his expression thoughtful now, trying to piece it all together. "I don’t know how to explain it, babe. It wasn’t like I was possessed or anything. Layla wasn’t... separate from me. It was just—me. Like, if I had always been Layla, that’s how I would have thought, how I would’ve acted, how I would’ve felt." He exhaled sharply. "It didn’t feel ****. It didn’t feel fake. But now, looking back on it... I don’t feel like that anymore."

You frowned slightly, trying to wrap your head around it. "So, wait—while you were Layla, you wanted to do all those things? Like, the makeup, the lingerie, all that girly shit?"

Liam hesitated, his lips pressing together in a tight line. Then, with a half-groan, half-laugh, he ran both hands down his face. "Babe, you have no idea how much I enjoyed that shit while it was happening," he admitted, shaking his head. "I was feeling myself so hard—like, damn, I really thought I was the baddest bitch on the planet. And don’t even get me started on how much I loved seeing myself in lingerie. I was like, ‘Fuck yeah, I’m hot—’"

You snorted, already biting back a laugh. "Liam, oh my god—"

"—but now?" Liam cut in, glancing down at himself, then back up at you, his expression twisting into something weirdly conflicted. "Now I just... don’t feel like that anymore. I look at my own body now, and I don’t wanna see it in lace, I don’t feel that same rush. And that’s fucking weird to me, babe. It’s like I was Layla, but now that I’m back to me, I can’t be Layla anymore. And I don’t even want to be."

That made you pause, chewing on the inside of your cheek. "So you’re saying it was like... a switch?"

"Yeah," Liam nodded, thoughtful again. "Like a mental toggle. When I was Layla, I felt like Layla. I wanted what Layla wanted. But now? That part of me is gone—like it was never mine to begin with. Just something I borrowed for a little while."

You stared at him, mulling that over, before slowly shaking your head. "Damn," you murmured, "Hermes really pulled some fucking magic on your ass."

Liam let out a dry laugh, flopping back against the pillows. "No shit."

And with that, the conversation still lingering in the air, the two of you lay there, staring up at the ceiling, processing the absolute insanity of the past twenty-four hours.

But you weren’t done talking about it yet. Not even close.

The morning air was still, the quiet hum of the outside world barely seeping into the bedroom as you lay beside Liam, the sheets tangled between your legs. His face was calm, thoughtful even, as he stared up at the ceiling, fingers absently tracing over his own stomach like he was still processing the reality of being back in his own body.

You watched him for a moment, propped up on your elbow, before tilting your head with a slow smirk. "So...," you started, voice dripping with amusement. "How was it?"

Liam turned his head toward you, raising an eyebrow. "How was what?"

You gave him a knowing look, letting a pause stretch between you, just to watch the realization click into place. And when it did, oh, it was perfect. His eyes widened slightly, then he groaned, rolling onto his side like he could somehow escape the conversation.

"Oh, fuck off—"

"Nope!" You reached out, grabbing his arm, forcing him to stay put as your grin grew. "You knew this conversation was coming, babe. Spill it. How was it? Being eaten out? Scissoring? And—" you bit your lip, letting the teasing drag out, "taking me with a strap?"

Liam let out a deep, exaggerated sigh, rubbing his face before finally looking at you. "Okay," he said, holding up a hand. "You want the truth? The full honest truth?"

You nodded, biting back a laugh as he groaned again before throwing his hands up.

"Having a pussy? Fucking awesome," he admitted, his voice carrying that blunt, almost **** honesty that made you cackle. "Like, I get it now. I fully fucking get it. When you were going down on me—holy shit, that was something else. The way everything felt so much more... I dunno, intense, like every little motion hit everywhere—" He shook his head, looking almost personally offended at how good it had been. "And scissoring? Jesus Christ, no wonder girls fucking love it. That shit is wild."

You beamed, nodding along in approval. "Mmmhmm, go on."

Liam rolled his eyes but didn’t stop. "And then—" he paused, exhaling sharply, "getting fucked? Babe, I was loving that shit so much, it’s embarrassing. Doggystyle? With you behind me? Holy fuck, I was seeing God."

You let out a bark of laughter, covering your face for a second before looking back at him. "Liam, I knew you were getting into it, but damn, babe, you’re really making me feel like I rocked your world."

"You did," he admitted with a dramatic sigh, shaking his head like he was somehow still processing it. "But here’s the thing—now that I’m back in my body? I’m looking at myself, and I know I enjoyed it, but now? I don’t wanna be on the receiving end of that shit. I wanna be the one giving it, babe."

You smirked. "Ohhh, so what you’re saying is..." You dragged out the words, voice thick with amusement. "You’re still a top after all?"

"Hell yes," Liam confirmed without hesitation, giving you a look. "Like, don’t get me wrong, that was amazing when I had the parts for it, but now? He gestured down at himself. "I’m feeling myself again, and I wanna be the one fucking you, not the other way around."

You hummed in thought, fingers idly tracing over his bare chest. "So what you’re telling me is... after all these days of teasing me about how much I love getting dicked down, you finally got a taste of it, loved it, but now that you’re back in your body, you conveniently don’t feel the same?"

Liam narrowed his eyes. "Yes. And I stand by it."

You grinned. "Wow," you said, shaking your head in exaggerated disappointment. "That is so tragic, babe. Here I was hoping we could take turns now—"

"Nope!" Liam cut you off immediately, shaking his head as he pointed a finger at you. "You had six hours yesterday to make me switch, and you failed. I tried it, I liked it, but now I’m back, and my dick is itching to reclaim its throne."

You snorted, unable to keep a straight face. "Reclaim its throne? Jesus, Liam, you make it sound like your dick was banished to another realm."

"It was!" Liam said dramatically, placing a hand over his chest like he was mourning a great loss. "And now, after being **** into exile, it has finally returned, ready to resume its rightful duty—"

But before he could finish his bullshit speech, you suddenly felt something against your thigh. Something warm, thick, and very, very real.

Oh.

You smirked. "Speaking of your dick..."

Liam immediately groaned, throwing an arm over his face. "You’re gonna make me talk about it, aren’t you?"

You rolled over, pressing your body against his, feeling the unmistakable heat of his morning wood nestled against your thigh. "Liam," you said sweetly, trailing a finger down his stomach, "are you hard?"

He let out a muffled, dramatic groan against his arm. "Shut up."

"Ohhh, babe, that’s so cute," you cooed, lips ghosting over his jaw as your hand moved lower, inching toward the very obvious problem pressing against you. "Do you need help with that?"

Liam exhaled sharply, his arm slipping away from his face just enough for you to see his half-lidded, amused gaze. "Babe," he murmured, voice already lower, rougher, "if you’re offering..."

You grinned, sliding your leg over his hips, straddling him as you leaned down, brushing your lips over his. "Oh, I’m offering," you purred.

And just like that, Liam’s hands were already on your hips, pulling you down against him, the teasing from before slipping away as heat sparked between you once more.

Yeah. You definitely had a morning problem to take care of.