He snores quietly. Sleeping with his mouth closed leaves nowhere for the sound to echo. It’s a comforting sound. Muted and masculine.
When he’s completely relaxed his shoulders twitch. The ramifications of sports injuries from years ago. Every so often a sharp jolt wakes me and almost as if he’s hiding the twitch he continues it in a soft circle of his fingers across my skin.
My body never acclimatised to the noises and sensations. I slept like hell with him in my bed but it was always worth it. Lazy, hazy half sleep. Comfort, relaxation and if I’m honest intimacy, safety and belonging. You know when something just feels right?
Instead of sleeping I’d replay the laughter, the jokes, the fun, the sex. I’m wet just thinking about it now. He’d need to be taught how to wrap his hand around my throat properly but his hand over my mouth he had down to perfection. He’d easily pull me across the bed because he wanted me closer. He’d fuck me hard then kiss me softly. Compliment me because taking the piss is fun but so is being nice to each other.
Lilting lightly in and out of sleep, half dreams and half fantasies, reminders of the beauty beside me I’d turn myself on. Not fully conscious of my actions I took his hand and ran his finger through the mess of wetness between my legs. “Look what you do to me”.
And just like that, he was awake. Hard. Eager to fuck. I love doing that to men. There’s a quiet confidence in having a man stand to attention in less than a heartbeat.
In one fluid motion, he was on top of me, a sharp nudge of his legs against mine and my legs were spread. Before I could fully wake he was inside me. The first thrust is always the best. Sliding into you, filling you up and the pause, oh, the pause when he’s buried as far into you as he can be and stops for a second. A mutual, palpable, raw release of pent-up lust being satisfied on both sides.
Groggy, sleepy sex is the best, there are no facades. No words, no people to be. It’s not kinky or flirty or “do this, do that”. It’s a silent, evocative, cathartic filling of needs. Two people who want each other so much that they don’t even need to be fully awake to acknowledge it.
Lust takes over. That really animalistic section of your brain comes front and centre and needs are expressed and received without instruction before the conscious part of your brain comes through.
I live for groggy fucks. Instinctive sex. The warm bubble of intimacy and everything it stands for. So much so, that I will myself to stay half asleep where my body innately accepts the sensations. His body heat, his weight on top of me, his breath, his legs under mine, his arms simultaneously holding me and himself in place and his want, his carnal need to be inside me.
Eventually, it ends. I fully wake or he comes or we both decide we’ve gotten what we’ve come together for. He’ll lie back down, I’ll rest my head on his shoulder and we’ll both drift off again. He’ll fall asleep first, he always does. I’ll lie and relive what just happened and pray that in an hour or so his twitching shoulders will wake me again. Just enough for a groggy fuck.