He is still half-asleep beneath me when I take him in my hand, already thick and heavy, and guide him where I’m open and wanting. No words yet. Just the slow push of my hips as I sink down and feel him fill me raw, the heat of him waking against the cooler sheets as soft light finds us before we fully wake.
I ride him like that for a long while, unhurried, letting the light move across his chest while I keep him deep. His hands find my waist eventually, not to guide, just to hold. When he comes the first time it is quiet and full, a long pulse that stays inside me. I don’t climb off. I stay seated, still moving, soft and steady, until he hardens again inside the warmth I kept for him. The second time he finishes deeper, breathing my name against my collarbone while the sun keeps rising around us. I stay there after, full of him, the light bright on the wet place where we are still joined.
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