Nothing would comfort me more, than to feel you climbing into my bed, wriggling under my arm to snuggle in my chest. The way you rest your hand on my heart, its weight couldn’t be more soothing. As for the other arm you had to awkwardly tuck by my ribs, you knew how you liked feeling them expand to each breath I take.
Despite your best attempts not to wake me up, you were aware that I was. That peck on your forehead, you knew. You knew how much I needed to take a deep whiff of your hair, into the lungs that narrowed the space between us. Your kiss though, the one that landed on my lower cheek, where you were too lazy to reach higher, they felt so little.
I wouldn’t ever get enough of your light kisses. You had placed them in spots I loved, and in ways, needed. We weren’t exactly at the point we always talked about before sleep, yet, you were contented. You tried your best to hide the tireness, the ‘more’ we could be. This bed we sleep in every night, was too soft for your comfort. But here you are, next to me.
No matter how your day went, there seemed to be one thing that would perk you up. An act not too energising that it would disrupt your sleep, but exhausting enough to put us into a nice slumber. There were literally no wrong places you could touch, that I wouldn’t stir to.
Into my boxers your playful hand went, and going deep down to my balls, where you fondled them so gently, but not discrete enough to stop me from holding you still. A few inches higher, and it was that gratifying sensation of your fingers going around my semi-hardness, squeezing so ever disturbingly that I couldn’t resist the drowsy groans from escaping.
You would feel my urges, through the frequency of kisses I gave to your forehead. I could totally sense your feisty spirit in your grip. As natural as it was, you didn’t obstruct my advances to your nether region, giving me full access to do as I wished to her, even if it meant rubbing a little too fast for your liking.
In a mysterious way, I could tell that your eyes were open, and staring hopefully at me. I was just sorry that I had no strength to look so intensely at you. Your strokes, were draining me faster than I liked. You took my change in speed as a challenge, to either distract you, or race you to the ‘finish’.
You did that naughty thing of catching some of that wetness with your fingers, before resuming the unjustifiable torture on me. You wouldn’t stop no matter how hard I tried to stump you into overdrive. Your thighs shutting on my hand, only told me of the time left to your orgasm.
Once you gave in to my unforgiving fingers, you moaned. Sweet, harsh, high-pitched, eager, desperate. You wanted what you didn’t. You went quicker than me at that point, releasing that tight grip for a killer one, that I had once told you about. You remembered.
Without warning, you pushed my hand into your groin, locking my digits in position with signs of your coming. I couldn’t pull out with your thighs holding me in. You had immobilised me, while you still had that full range of motion, that drove me berserk with lust.
Somehow, in the magical mind of yours, you read my symptoms accurately. You went fast, then slow, finally cupping your palm over the tip as warmth poured into it. I curled those fingers inside you and felt a tremble from you, marking our simultaneous climax with audible breathing and exasperated, hoarse groans.
I could say, that you had left enough fluids on me as I had splashed onto you. Smoother, cooler, in abundance, almost nutritious. Mine just stuck onto your skin securely for our roll of wet wipes to clean off.
Back into my arms, buried in my chest. The warm air from your nose, they flowed over where my heartbeat was slowing down, preparing to sleep for a new dawn.
You’re a tad too sweet for my liking, also a little too adorable for my manly emotions to fully comprehend. I still love you though.