"Barely," he says, but it doesn't matter: something else is quickly being roused from an alcohol-soaked slumber. He kisses her scalp and slips his fingers under the fabric to gently stroke her with thick fingers.
"Now that there isn't anything between us," he says, and it doesn't occur to him until right then to glance over his shoulder and check that their bedroom door is closed. Safe. He exhales slowly.
Touching her never gets old, and still being tired enough to go right back to sleep makes it easier to just mindlessly play with her, untethered from any self-consciousness. He groans quietly into her hair as he touches her –– he's so lucky. The luckiest man alive.
"I don't want to stop touching you," he mutters, continuing to rub circles, firmer now. His other arm, pinned between her and the bed, folds in tighter around her chest. "Guide me in."
She clicks her tongue as if she isn't. Jill reaches down to move her panties lower, then reaches behind her thigh to stroke him. She takes a moment to simply touch him, too.
He chuffs quietly into her hair, and the touch of her fingers sends a little shiver through him; her hand is cool, the press of her body against him invigorating. He tilts his hips against her, pressing into her hand, blindly towards her.
"If only we could," she says, amused, and gives them both what they want by guiding him inside her. He slips in easily, and she groans. He's made for her.
He presses forward as soon as his cockhead brushes her entrance, and he presses slow and deep, his finger pads still against her clit. He gives a long and none-too-quiet moan, barely having the sense to turn his head into the pillow to muffle it.
How wonderful his sounds are, and that he still moans like it's the first time he's felt her. Jill moans too, albeit much more quietly, wishing to hear him.
He turns his head back to breathe heavily into her hair instead, barely dragging out of her at all before pressing right back in. She feels incredible.
"I could," he admits. He's still tired. "But I want you to come..."
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"I'm glad you still desire me even when you're barely awake. I'm lucky."
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He slips a finger between her lips, still slow, still lazy.
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Now that they're determined to be together and share this bed.
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They both know why. Jill laughs once she sets her head back down.
"No accidents."
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He slips a finger just inside her.
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"What a problem to have."
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Touching her never gets old, and still being tired enough to go right back to sleep makes it easier to just mindlessly play with her, untethered from any self-consciousness. He groans quietly into her hair as he touches her –– he's so lucky. The luckiest man alive.
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"I want to be..."
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It wouldn't be the worst way to cuddle.
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She clicks her tongue as if she isn't. Jill reaches down to move her panties lower, then reaches behind her thigh to stroke him. She takes a moment to simply touch him, too.
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“Jill…”
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With how drunk he was she doubts they would have managed. Good things come to those who wait, apparently.
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“Every night,” he mumbles. “I would be inside you all the time… you feel like paradise…”
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"We could sleep like this," she murmurs.
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"I could," he admits. He's still tired. "But I want you to come..."
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