Being surrounded and pawed by guys as often as she was, Haruhi had gotten used to being touched in places that would make any normal person blush. Hands accidentally brushed her breasts, small as they were, from time to time; fingers awkwardly grazed her butt every now and then. She very quickly stopped flinching every time it happened, and stopped noticing soon afterward.
Really, she had grown almost comfortable with the feeling of someone else's skin on her own, and had accepted the fact that as the only girl in a room full of exceptionally attractive guys (some of whom could not seem to keep their hands off of her for long), hands were bound to wander.
But Haruhi was fairly certain this was deliberate.
A hand—she wasn't sure whose—gently trailed across her neck and collarbone as an arm wrapped around her waist from behind. Hot breath blew across the back of her neck and fingers tousled her hair. A warm weight clung to one hand while long, cool fingers clutched her other wrist.
Haruhi felt as if she were tumbling down into a nest of tangled limbs, of touch and kiss and warm, smooth skin pressed against her own. Hesitantly, she reached out her hand, wanting to feel someone's skin (she wasn't sure whose) under her fingers, and opened her eyes to an empty room. Her hand was stretched towards the ceiling, reaching for something that wasn't there.
She wondered briefly whether or not she should feel disappointed before rolling over and going back to sleep. She still had a while before the alarm rang, after all. Whatever her stupid dream was trying to tell her could wait a few more hours.