Adam wakes up

The night is eventful after all.

Adam wakes sometime past the middle of it. Lana is still in his arms, spooned tight, her back fitted to his chest, one of his arms under her neck, the other heavy over her waist. He lies there and remembers she used to love sleeping this way. Years ago. The same curve of her spine. The same way she trusted the hold and went under.

He is hard. Achingly. His cock rests against her ass, thick, hot, the kind of hardness that arrives in sleep and refuses to leave. He shifts his hips, just enough, and slips the shaft between her cheeks.

It settles in the cleft. She is warm. Soft. He can feel, lower, how wet she still is. His cum from earlier. Hers. The night not wiped away, slick on her thighs and on the lips of her cunt.

He does not shove in. Not yet. He rubs. A slow roll of his hips. His cock slides along her pussy from behind, the head nudging her clit, dragging through the mess, painting her with it. Up. Down. The tip catches on her entrance and skids. His hand leaves her waist and finds her. Two fingers. Gentle circles on her clit, then lower, spreading the wetness, then back.

Lana wakes by degrees. A change in her breath. A small sound in her throat. Then the understanding arriving all at once. His chest against her back. His hand between her legs. His cock rubbing her open, not inside, thick and insistent, the head kissing her hole on every pass. She moans. A whimper follows when he presses a little harder and the tip almost breaches, then slips up through her folds again.

Her hand finds his wrist. Not to stop him. Just to feel that it is real.

“Babe,” she whispers, voice thick with sleep and already dirty with it. “What are you doing?”