She does at some point

Lana wakes in the dark and understands the position before she understands the hour.

Adam’s hand is on her waist. Heavy. Asleep. His chest is against her back. His cock is between her thighs, hot, half-hard, the head resting right against her cunt. Not in. Aimed. She is soaked. She was soaked in her sleep. The reward and the proximity and the old body-memory have her dripping onto him without having moved.

She stays still.

The days come back.

Years ago when they dated. Mornings where she woke already full, his cock inside her because he had found her in the night and stayed. She used to lie there and feel him twitch and wonder if he was awake. Sometimes he was. Sometimes he finished in his sleep and she found the mess when she stood up.

She wonders, now, if he will do it again. If the aim becomes a push. If she will wake properly with her husband — the pretend one — buried in her.

She tries a small movement. A shift of her hips. Back. Onto him.

It stirs him.

Adam does not wake. His breath changes. His hips start to move, involuntary, a slow sleep-thrust. His cock slides along her cunt. Through the wetness. The head bumps her clit, drags between her lips, nudges her entrance and slips up again.

Not quite in. A rub. Over and over. His hand tightens on her waist and pulls her back into it.

Lana bites her lip. She does not wake him. She does not reach down.

It keeps happening.

Minutes. His cock thickens as he thrusts. The head catches on her hole and almost breaches, then skids up through her folds, slick with her, painting her clit. She is shaking. She presses her hand over her mouth.

He groans, still asleep, and thrusts harder. The shaft rides her whole cunt. The head prods, insistent, not coordinated enough to sink in and too hard to ignore. Lana’s thighs tremble. She is going to cum from a man who is not awake, from a cock that is not even inside.

She cums.

It hits quiet and violent. Her hand clamps on her mouth so she does not scream. Her cunt pulses, empty, gushing against his shaft, hips jerking once before she forces them still.

The orgasm rolls and rolls. Adam does not stop. He keeps thrusting. The wet sound is small and obscene in the dark. Her cum makes everything more slippery. The head kisses her entrance again and again.

He cums with a small groan.

Not a performance. A sleep-sound. His cock kicks between her thighs and marks her. Hot pulses across her cunt, her clit, the crease of her ass, some of it catching her entrance and leaking down. He pulls her closer in the same motion, still asleep, arm locking, cock nestling deeper between her thighs, spent and twitching against the mess he just made.

Lana does not move.

She lies there, hand slipping off her mouth, smile on her face in the dark. Coated in him. His breath evening out against her neck.

The pretend wife, rewarded twice, once awake and once by a man who never opened his eyes.

She goes back to sleep that way.