I wake up to your thigh trapping mine, your arm wrapped around my chest, and your rocket-hot prick insistently rubbing up my leg.
As I rub the sleep from my eyes, instinctively nestling into your grasp, I realise you’re still asleep. The moan that pulled me from my much more innocuous dream was merely part of a stream of rather precious noises you’d never admit to making if you were in control of your faculties.
I’m so busy being smug that one particularly committed grind of your hips pulls a choked sound from my body as my ass rolls to meet you behind me. The second the meat of my leg presses back solidly against your cock, you *growl*.
Something in my brain snaps and I’m pushing you onto your back as you begin to come to. You’re still opening your eyes when I grasp your shaft in my hand, still feeling out reality as I guide your head around my entrance—to gather up the slick my sleeping body’s made for you—and up to my clit—to indulge just a bit—before plunging you inside me.
Your hands reflexively go to my hips, searching for purchase as I work you all the way inside me. The dopey smile on your face tells me you’ve convinced yourself the velvet heat of me around you is part of your dream, but the fullness of you inside me is real, as is your heartbeat echoing in my walls as I give you the biggest squeeze I can muster.
Your whole body jumps, and I giggle as I move to squat over you so I can ride you into absolute oblivion. You’d never let me do so much work in your waking hours, but something carnal in me needs nothing so bad in this moment as to spear myself onto you over and over, one hand on your chest as I bounce with a fervour that, quite frankly, I can’t seem to bring myself to care surely appears ridiculous from outside us.
The first pause I take is to catch my breath, but I make use of it to grind down and back against you, and I only know you’ve woken up because your hands are suddenly pushing me down onto you, working with me, and I’m so excited you’ve joined in on the game I let out what I’ll later deny was a squeal.
“Good morning,” you mumble, tangling your fingers in my hair and pulling me down for a shambles of a kiss.
“Hi,” I whisper, wiggling back and forth on top of you, relishing the subtle twitch of you inside me.
“What time is it?” you ask, reaching absently for a phone. I trap your hand, pulling it to meet the other above your head as I creep to lower my breasts across your chest.
“Do you care?” I wager. You make use of the 4.30, in fact, a.m. silence to flip a curl out of your face before forcing your head millimetres from mine to whisper,
“Not really.” With that, you attack my neck, and I can’t help but collapse down into you, my hands going to your back. Wrists free, you surge up to meet me and, quick as a wave drowns the unprepared, curl around me, rolling me underneath you.
It’s all I can do at this point to lock my ankles above the cleft of your arse, to wrap my arms up and around your back, to grip your shoulders and *take.* I’ve never been good at taking but you’ve learned not to leave me another option.
Whether it’s the absence of illumination or your heady fog, I’m not sure, but you surge forward into me with such need that I’m helpless but to slip along the sheets, heading, after all our tangling, off the side of the bed.
“I’m going to fall,” I cry. You attempt to hold back even as you grunt, “I’m so close, just give me—”
It all happens at once.
1) Your eyes go wide as you groan from deep within you and spasm, rushing forward like the ocean moving through you into me.
2) That look and that sound together pull me with you, and I feel myself clench harder everywhere, all around you, as my heart seems to burn out of my chest.
3) I fall back as you fall forward, so that we tumble, still interlocked, entirely off the bed.
You’ve landed squarely on me, which is luckier than it feels, seeing as I’m the only one of us that provides any cushioning. I don’t have the breath to chastise you because I think my heart might explode, and when I can hear again I realise what I’m hearing is your laughing, and as you pet my hair and chuckle apologies all I can do is laugh back up at you.
In the morning, after wet towels and bed head and very ugly, burnt waffles, you turn to me and smirk,
“Well, I bet you won’t walk right today, anyway.”
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/jpi43w/a_noise_mfsomnophilia_midnight_sex_gotta_have_a
Fantastic little story! Love the humor