It’s a drop of sweat drizzling down your side that jerks you from dreaming. You come awake with a start, disjointed in the dark and muddled from half-consciousness. She’s trembling in your arms and your cock is ramrod hard and nestled between her naked ass cheeks…she’s wet, you can smell her arousal in the curve of her neck, and her breathing is rushed against the pillow. Your hips are pulsing and she’s rocking lightly against you. Christ, you two were as good as fucking in your sleep.
“Don’t stop, Mulder,” she murmurs, “…please don’t stop.”
You wouldn’t dream of stopping, not with that needy tone in her throaty voice, not with how easy it is to just slip effortlessly inside her. She’s smooth and swollen with sleep and the moan she releases coaxes out one of your own. The pace is leisurely, easy, as though you both are still drowsing but have somehow managed to meet in the same dream. You can’t see her, but you can feel her, hear her, and smell her. She’s everywhere around you and that thought alone tips you over.
It’s the softest orgasm you’ve ever had but you can feel it in virtually every part of your body. She quivers in your arms with her own release and then falls quiet, a long, heavy sigh the only signal that she came. You should get up, be the considerate man she deserves and fetch some tissues or at least a towel, but she’s sound asleep again. It’s all too easy to join her.
Just Holding Hands 