Work Text:
Hazy eyes flutter open, staring up blankly towards the dark ceiling. Your brain feels fuzzy, sleep still clinging heavily to your limbs. Turning towards the window, the pillows feel soft beneath your cheek. Something isn’t quite right. You left the curtains open, didn’t you? You should be able to see the bright glow of the street lights outside.
Blearily, you reach for your phone; it’s not even four yet. You should be fast asleep. What on earth could have woken you?
Does it really matter? I have to be up in… three hours.
Letting your phone fall heavily against the empty side of your bed, your eyes begin to drift closed. You pull warm sheets up around your shoulders, sleep’s heavy embrace ready to pull you back under.
Pleasure buzzes beneath your skin. You had been having the most wonderful dream, hadn’t you? You tuck your chin beneath the covers, nuzzling closer to the soft warmth of the oversized t-shirt you have been using as a nightshirt. On the long nights when Simon is away, it’s the easiest way for you to sleep soundly.
Sinking back into sleep’s welcoming embrace, you can feel your breathing beginning to deepen, your eyelids closing. You shift, turning towards the empty space to your right. Or so you try to. Something warm and firm presses against your thighs, keeping you locked in place. You frown, kicking at the blankets, trying to free yourself enough to curl up more comfortably.
“Settle down, sweetheart. Go back to sleep. I’ve got you.”
Calloused hands part your thighs, warm breath skittering across your skin. What a realistic dream, you think, relaxing beneath the phantom touch. Lips press against the apex of your thigh, and your eyes shoot open.
“Si?” Tugging at the sheets, you try to sit up, noticing the familiar bulge beneath the sheets; you would recognise the outline of those broad shoulders anywhere. “Is that–”
The world spins as, between one breath and the next, you’re facedown, hips pulled up into position, a warm, heavy body blanketing your own. A thick thigh presses between your legs, nudging them wider open; One of his hands dwarfs yours, neatly pinning your wrists to the small of your back.
Lips ghost against the shell of your ear. You fall still beneath his touch. Heart pounding, it’s not until you hear his whispered words that the tension finally begins to ebb from your body. “Sleep. We can talk in the morning.”
A soft pillow presses beneath your hips. Lips trail across the nape of your neck. A single, thick finger teases at your folds, tracing the slick line of your slit, brushing against where you want to feel him the most.
Even as you relax, a breathy groan leaves your lips. “You don’t need to be awake for this. It’s just a dream, sweetheart. Go back to sleep.”
Hips grind slowly, almost lazily, down against the pillow beneath you, as you let the creeping tendrils of sleep take hold. If Simon says it’s time to sleep, well, that’s one order you’re more than willing to take from him – whether this really is all a dream, or something more.
Warmth follows you down as you drift off, pleasure – soft, and low, and soothing – radiating out from your core, helping you slip seamlessly back to sleep.
Watery sunlight streams around thick curtains, seeping in through all the cracks and crevices. You’re slow to awaken, sleep clinging to you as you try to remember the hazy remnants of your dreams. You don’t want to open your eyes to confirm that the bed beside you is still empty. It’s been nearly three weeks since Simon deployed. While you never know quite when he will be back, you seriously doubt it will be any time soon.
Blindly reaching out, your heart thuds in your chest; the possibility that he is here, by your side, just out of sight, is enough to set you on edge. Soft hands meet empty sheets; there’s no sign of him to be found. Of course there isn’t.
You turn, curling up on your side, eyes finally creeping open. Of course it was a dream. A damn good one, judging by the slickness between your thighs. You can almost feel your core aching, as if he really has been here. As if he really did spend the night.
You let out a long, weary sigh, eyes drifting across to Simon’s side of the room. You miss him. There’s no point in lying around all day, you think, eyes lingering on the creases in his pillow.
You frown; did you move around that much in the night? Or were they there the night before?
Your eyes drift to the bedside table, eyes catching on a familiar black mug with a little cartoon ghost. You picked it up at Halloween years ago. Did you really bring it to bed? Your eyes widen as you take in the faint misty tendrils of steam rising from the mug, the distinct scent of Earl Grey permeating the air.
As you push yourself up, warm hands wrap around your hips, pressing you back into place. A low, deep laugh echoes throughout the room.
“I wondered how long it’d take you to wake up. Now, where were we?”