You wake. You don't know why. You're still in bed, warm, cozy, fighting the chill of the morning.
Lying on your stomach, head buried in the pillow, your eyes flutter in the early morning darkness, but don't fully open. Your left hand is curled up in a half fist below your left hip. Your right hand is fisting the blanket and curled up under your chin. Your body stretches, pushing deeper into the mattress. You don't move, but you take stock of the bed and time. Sighing, you burrow further into your warmth cocoon and hope to go back to sleep.
Silence greets you. It's blissful. You feel your body starting to drift away back into slumber. Smiling, you let your mind drift, too.
But, for some reason, your mind is fully aware of the fact that your t-shirt had ridden up your torso. The fabric is bunched just under your bosom. Your stomach is touching my the soft, stupidly-high thread count cotton sheets. The softness is luxurious, sinful, and deliciously comforting. You wish your brain would just shut up and get the message that you just want to go back to sleep. Instead, your hips shift and cause the thin, well-worn, well-loved, and almost too short boxers to shift down exposing the top of your ass to the blanket.
Burrowing into the bed, again, you still attempt to go back to sleep. Sighing, you pull the blanket closer to your chin. You're trying to make your cocoon deeper. After a few minutes, moments, it doesn't matter. Your mind finally quietens enough for you to drift off.
The bed shifts. You don't move. You're warm. You're comfortable. You're in your cocoon. You feel the warmth coming towards you, but you don't care. Sleep is more important.
Until it isn't.
Warmth, tentative and unsure graces the skin of your back. Fingers dance upon your skin, tracing nonsensical patterns. You sigh, low and quiet. You delight in the feeling of your lover's hand on your back. The rough contrast between their fingers and your smooth skin. Heat radiating between both. You sigh harder as the touch gets more confident and sure.
You don't turn. You don't move your head. You stay still as your lover slowly explorers the strip of skin exposed by your shirt.
Heat builds as your lover gets nearer to you on the bed. Lying beside you, their scent fills your nose. A scent you know and crave. A scent that you can only associate with your lover. The scent makes you smile, happy they are with you. They are behind you on the left, trapping you in the bed, and exploring your body. Their hands never stopped moving across your skin.
You melt.
Part of you wishes it didn't feel this damn good every time they touch you, but it does. It's so fucking delicious that your body drinks it up, like it's starving for the contact. And it is, your body is addicted to this connection to your love. It craves it. So your mind had no option but to give in and enjoy. So, now you never want it to end.
Your mind stutters into being fully awake. Your body is on fire as your lover's touch starts moving lower. You know they know you're awake by the little shimmy your body does. Neither of you say a thing as their right hand dips across the top of your ass.
You sigh, but it's more of a whimper.
The hand give your right cheek a slight squeeze. It is an unspoken acknowledgement that not only are you awake, you're enjoying yourself. Fingers dug into your flesh, caressing, kneading, admiring. You fidget just enough to get your left hand up and out.
Suddenly, there is more weight on your left side. Your hand is more or less trapped up near your head, but your not uncomfortable. The weight grounds you and keeps your mind focused on your lover's touch. The hand on your butt gives another squeeze as it moves down further to the swell under your boxers.
That hand squeezes and grabs, separates your cheeks, daring to touch you so deliciously with want that you can't help yourself. Your legs spread. Not a lot, but enough to offer yourself and beg to be touched more.
You're dripping. You had to have woken slightly horny, but now, because of their touch, you're down right wanton. And, you don't care. You know that they can smell the want coming from you just by the way their fingers dug into your skin. You can tell they are holding back from just plowing you into the mattress. Secretly, you want that. You need that. You crave that because you'd have no control over your climax. They would own it. They would dictate when you could and it would be so delicious, strong and amazing that you get lost in the feeling. It makes you whimper, wanting more.
"I know, Baby," they tell you as their hand shifts further.
It is soothing and comforting. Fingers are still dancing across your core. And, then a finger enters you. Single, slowly, softly, it fills you.
Another whimper, more of moan, escapes your lips. Their left hand sneaks under your shoulder rolling you up further onto your left side. That hand pulled you further into their body and snaked up under your shirt further. That hand began to find your breast. Slow and tender touches became hard and more massaging as they squeezed and teased the breast in hand. Their touch is possessive and delicious at the same time. You want so much more.
Their weight has become a delicious feeling as they simultaneously push you into the bed and pull you off it. Their body fit into yours. Fingers grab you harder, molding your butt to their center. You feel them and know that they are just as wanton as you are in that moment. The heat between you both continues to rise. Their right hand finds your core and traces your lips.
Softly, slowly, they explore. Using your natural wetness to coat you over and over again, they coat their fingers too. Those same fingers that were touching you. Not even caring that they aren't inside you anymore, you melt into the feelings that they are causing.
Slow and steady might when the race, but damn it, you want more.
"I know, Baby. Trust me. Just let me touch you," they say to you in your ear.
Your body caves. How could it not with the words dancing across your ear. They know what does to you. They know how to make you wetter.
The hand on your breast gives you a teasing squeeze and the hand in your boxers just cups your mound. You want to scream, but all that comes out is a very wanton moan. You're letting your lover dictate the pace at the moment, but oh how you wished they just move on.
Their breath tickles your ear. Their hands expertly plays against your breast, teasing your nipple into a diamond hard point. Pulling on it and teasing it, sending bolts of pleasure straight to your core. You arch back into them, but their weight is holding you fast. You whimper.
You don't want to beg. But, damn you are soaked and need relief. The sheer want that is coursing through you at the moment makes you wonder what they were doing before you woke. And, that is when you realize that their body is nude. Skin upon damp skin. Your damp with the heat of want, and theirs from a possible shower. You realize that you must have looked delectable in bed for them come to you like this.
You wonder if you whimpered for them because of your dreams. You think that you must have had such wonderful dreams before you woke. No matter how early it was or how much you wanted to go back to sleep. There had to be something on your mind that drove you to these heights so quickly. When the truth of the matter is, all they had to do was touch you in the right spot and you'd be ready for them to take you completely.
You push back against them with your ass. It is still nestled in their center. The heat coming off you from down there must be extreme, reminding you of a sauna. You're wet, dripping. You're wanton, a mess. You're silently begging, only to be denied.
The hand in the boxers comes out. You whimper in protest. This is not what you wanted.
A smack to your ass makes you quiet. It is a silent command. One you know all to well. If you protest and whine too much about it, either your lover will stop or slow down to the point that your pleasure will become pain and it will take you oh so long to finally break. That is not what you wanted.
And, obviously this morning, they don't either. That hand is back pulling at your boxes, shoving them down your legs, until you can kick them off. Blankets are starting to become casualties in this endeavor. You're quiet as that hand explores your thighs without the restriction of the boxers. You moan.
This was no whimper begging for more. No, this was a moan telling your lover how much you crave...need...want their touch upon you. Your breathing is erratic. Your heartbeat is fast, but you are calm. The anticipation is dreadful, but you'll endure because you know that it will be worth every second when you can finally fall. As much as you want to beg for it, you know that your lover will give you everything that you need. They always do.
And, then before you can think too much about it, that hand is back on your lips, just softly brushing against them. You know that your lover is slowly separating them, preparing you for the onslaught that they will bring upon your body. They are giving you time to protest, secretly checking in with you as they rub over your most sensitive skin. You won't, though.
Their hand spreads over your. Their index finger and ring finger spread you open. Their thumb goes to that tight bundle of nerves and slightly brushes over it.
You buck into them. You can feel their smile against your neck, just behind your ear. They've started softly nibbling on that spot, knowing how wild it drives you. Oh, they are taking their time. Making sure that you feel every movement that they give you. It is soft and slow, delicious and deliberate. All it does is drive you higher and higher.
You don't recognize the pitch in your own voice as their middle finger slips inside you. Teasing and testing, it probes you. You drip more. You're so wet now.
Their thumb sets out a rhythm upon your clit. Your body arches into them again. They've stopped showing your breast attention and their hand has moved down to around your stomach. It isn't holding your against your will, but it is tight and knowing that you want to move away and towards the pleasure they are giving you. Holding you against them isn't quiet torture, but not allowing your body to fully move is driving your higher and higher.
They know every inch of you. They know how to drive you wild completely. They know how to fuck you.
And, that is now, what you want. You want them to fuck you. You don't want soft and gentle. It was nice in the beginning, but your body craves their touch and the pleasure that only they seem to be able to give you.
Finally, they pull back. It is just for second, but your body sags. It tries to follow those talented fingers and fails.
They push into you again. Their fingers going deep, and you feel like you might fly away. Their weight is the only thing keeping you on the bed. They don't tease you this time. They set a rhythm and kept at it. You couldn't help yourself. You tried to reach back to grab them, to ground yourself holding them, but you can't find purchase. They are holding you too tightly with their arm around your middle.
They pound away at your core. You cry out into the morning. They don't stop. They keep going. You cum three times before they slow, still holding you against them. You finally stop and sigh, collapsing into them completely.
They roll just enough for you to land on your back. Hovering over you, they begin to worship your body letting you cool down from your high. You know that they are just waiting to build you back up again. Slow caresses cover your skin. Your breathing is still slightly shallow, but it is steadying. Their kisses, while helping you regain yourself, are starting a fire deep inside, threatening to overflow and out into the open. You want it, too, so badly, that an earth-shattering moan escapes your lips. You don't try to be quiet.
You can feel them smile around your breast. Finally, coming back to yourself, you wrap your fingers in their hair and hold them tight against you. Their lips and mouth worship your body, tending the fire inside more and more. The more you moan, the harder and firmer they suck on your skin. You'll have marks, badges of love, and you...don't...care. You'll wear them all with pride and beg for more. You enjoy the feeling of their body, subtly, weighing you down to the bed. Their skin upon yours is a delight that you've missed and craved.
But, your body wants more. It doesn't matter that you've already found your bliss several times, your body is burning bright and wants more. It is almost a demand in your head. You have to find oblivion in their hands. They are the only one that can quench the fire and feed the need. You feel like you've never been this needy before, and you might not have, but you'll be damned if you are going to let them stop...now. You needed this more than you could ask and you can tell that they do as well.
"Love," the word falls out of your mouth as they start a slow descent down your torso.
Their hands reach up to appease you some as they continue to kiss and suck at your skin. You weave the finger of your right hand with their left. You hold it close to your heart. Their other hand moved from your left breast down to your left hip. You know that it is to hold you steady and keep you as still as possible before the onslaught really happens.
You suck in a breath. It is anticipatory. It does nothing to satisfy your current condition.
Slowly, carefully, they continue their downward movement. They are hovering over your core. You can feel their breath on you. It just causes you to burn brighter. The hand on your hip squeezes, letting you know to be loud. They want to hear you. They need to hear you. You clamp down on their hand again, still against your chest over your heart. Their kisses are everywhere but where you need them.
They kiss along your thighs, decorating your body more. Your hand moves in their hair, trying to direct them back to your core. You know what they can do to you with their tongue and you want it. Their nose pushes through and bumps against your clit causing you to moan deeply. Their tongue finally hit you. The hand on your hip tightens, holding your body down to the bed and they devour you.
If you weren't so blissfully enjoying the tongue lashing that you were receiving, you might actually care about the sounds that you were making. You would actually realize that your lover has pulled their hand back to hold your hips still. You barely register the feeling as they hold your tighter causing fingertip shaped bruises to form. It didn't matter as you chased your orgasm at the tip of their tongue.
Finally, you fall. And, you fall hard. As you try to melt into the bed, they come up to hold you. Tenderly, they pull you back into their body. Rolling both of you onto your side, you're mind into their little spoon. You sigh and melt back into their body. Your body is still boneless and tingly. You feel wonderful.
"Give me a few and I'll return the favor," you manage to get out somehow.
"Don't worry about me, Love. Sleep. I'll hold you."
"But we have to..."
"They will wait for us, Love. Sleep for now and enjoy the morning. We deserve it," they tell you.
You fall back into them more, enjoying the warmth of their body against you. Skin to skin, you can't help but start to doze back off. You reach over and grab their hand, pulling it back to your heart, between your breast.
"Just fifteen minutes," you say, sleepily as your eyes close.
"Sure, Love, fifteen minutes," they tell you as they hold you tighter.
You know that you're going to be late for whatever meeting that is later in the meeting, but you just can't find in yourself to care. You just know that you are loved and happy. It is definitely going to be a good morning.