You’re nearly awake, but not quite… just caught in that warm in-between place where dreams start to fade into memory and reality slowly creeps into consciousness. It’s still dark and you don’t know how long you’ve been asleep, but know you haven’t had enough of it yet, not enough to start the next day.

Still, there’s this hand covering yours on the pillow… just four fingers crossing over yours, a thumb sliding beneath your palm, dragging across your skin… all you hear is the shhhhushhhh of movement on the pillowcase and the whisper of light breaths you barely feel on your face.

His hand is warm, and you like the feel of it, smooth and sensual, a light caress that pulls you further out of sleep, and you open your eyes slowly, vision adjusting from the color and light of dreams into the deep blue darkness of the loft. Spare rays of amber light from the street lamps outside filter in through the big windows and lie across the bed, just enough so you can see the arch of his shoulder, the glimmer of his eyes, the soft smile rounding the corners of his face.

Your lips fall apart and form a smile in return… a slow blink and his hand draws across the back of yours, drifting along your wrist and forearm, gliding across your shoulder and along your side. One whole movement that doesn’t end till his fingers tickle the curve of your hip, the backs of his nails stroking the slope of your pelvis, the hollow of your thigh.

A gentle tug and you roll onto your stomach towards him… slowly, fluidly, letting his touch guide you and follow you over, fingers sliding along your ass cheeks, palm open, pressure on your skin.

The side of your face presses against the pillow, the fresh smell of clean sheets filling your nose, and you blink heavily, your eyelashes catching on the cotton. His fingers weave up into your hair and urge you gently out of the well of the pillow to meet his lips… soft kisses with tongues that taste like toothpaste and sleep, tickling across your mouth till his fingers untangle from your hair and your head falls back to the pillow.

He pulls away and cool air invades the cushion of warmth that had settled between your back and his chest. Eyelids flutter shut, and you wait as the things that have to happen do — crinkle of a wrapper, quiet flip of a cap, thick liquid slowly easing down your crack and covering your asshole. Sheets are pushed over, dragging across your back, and then you’re suffocated by the delicious comfort of a body covering yours, one leg sliding between your knees, easing your thighs apart… his face in yours, hot breath washing against your cheek.

You turn to your side, pushing your body back into his, the muscles in his stomach working against the small of your back. His nipples are hard and erect against your shoulder blades, his cock pressing between your cheeks against your asshole, and the gauze of sleep is washed away and replaced with heavy need.

He buries his face in your neck, mouth open, wet with kisses and tongue… tasting and nibbling, and you lift your hand to touch his hair, smooth like silk, gliding through your fingers, sliding across your palm. The scratch of his beard prickles against your shoulder, burning a little, heating your skin, raw and desperate.

A grip on your hip, flesh against flesh, strong fingers that hold you still… he reaches between your tight bodies and angles his cock, sliding along your skin until he finds the place he needs to be… a push, push, push and he overwhelms you… hold tight to the sheets with one hand, brace yourself with the other, pushing back onto him, feeling him come inside you.

You’ve always loved the way he takes you, swiftly, gently, easing inside smoothly with no hesitation ever, not letting you breathe or think or pause… just capturing your body with his cock, urging you past the first nibble of pain to reach the sweet rush of complete penetration. Forget the bite, the pinch, the stretch… just know heavy and full and satisfaction. Know pleasure and spine-tingling bliss. Know devotion and adoration and this thing you’ve come to realize is love.

There are no rules for what comes next, and it’s hardly ever the same, but somehow always seeming better than the last, with the expectation of the next always there to provide that constant thrill. It’s always warm, and full of arms and legs twisting together, slow, long slides in and out, grunts that start in the throat and dance off lips… conversations that go for hours with no words said, just trading moans and cries and gasps.

It’s taking and giving and taking and giving over and over and back and forth in a continuous loop till you cease to be separate entities and merge into one pure soul of passion and fucking. You push back, he gasps; he pushes forward, you gasp. Breathing stops and you just suck in air as you need it, hearts pounding in tandem, bodies rocking together in rapturous harmony.

The sheets grow damp with a sprinkle of perspiration, but you’re not conscious of the bed or sheets or the room around you. You can’t feel anything else, just his body wrapping around you like a blanket, covering you completely. Where he doesn’t touch, you feel him anyway.

There are a million ways to fuck and you’re sure you’ve done all of them at least twice, but this is one of your favorites, buried under his hard chest, bodies curved together so perfect and seamless. You feel worshipped as he strokes your back, grips your forearms, entwines his fingers between yours… breathing into your hair, whispering in your ears, kissing the side of your face and licking at your lips… you feel taken and wanted and held and safe.

You feel like you’re his, like you always have been, and maybe that’s why this always feels so right.

When you climax, it’s so close together… his well-timed hand jobs always on key to make you erupt into orgasm at the same time as him, cause your whole body to tense and clench up just as he’s pushing his cock deep, deep, deeper into your ass.

You feel him coming inside you, feel the throb, your own body shuddering around his cock, the pleasure so fucking intense for moments, then dying slowly away, aftershocks rippling through your bodies, fingers and faces pressed tightly together.

A sigh. Deep breath. You don’t want him to leave. Really don’t want that fullness to go, but already you feel it slipping away as he eases back, cruel air skirting between your sweat-slicked bodies.

You reach out to pull him back towards you, but your fingers slide off his damp shoulder and hang in the air… his lips touch your grasping fingers, pulling one into his mouth, sucking lightly and making you forget what you were missing. He’s here, right here.

Roll over so you’re facing each other, sharing grins till your eyes slide closed, tired, spent, completely sated. Bodies warm and cooling off, the midnight edge come and gone and nothing but satisfaction in its wake. You stifle a yawn and bury your face in his neck, fill your nose with his smell and wrap your fingers lightly around his wrist.

The temptation of sleep overwhelms you and when you feel the puff of air on your cheek you know he’s slipping too… fading back into unconsciousness where dreams await.

The next morning evidence of the night before is written in dried cum on the sheets, the crinkled wrapper stuck to your back and the leaking half-tied condom drooping off the nightstand. Sheets pulled off your body and rucked up between his legs, arms thrown across pillows, heads heavy with not enough sleep and limbs stiff from curling around each other all night.

The chaos of life resumes in the daylight, hours wait to be filled with things that need to be done, responsibilities and accountabilities.

But over coffee and a hurried piece of toast, a quiet smile slips from him to you and back again and later on, when you let your eyelids slide shut for a second or two, you see his midnight grin, feel his caress on your hip, his arm tight against your chest and his cock deep inside you... and you let it carry you till you sleep again.