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She woke up when he moved. She always does, she’s too unused to sharing her bed to ignore it. The sun has just barely begun to peek over the horizon, judging by the red-gold light leaking in around the curtains. Nearly time to get up, she notes, thinking that maybe she’ll just stay home in bed with him today instead of going to work.
That option begins to seem even more appealing when he leans over her bare back and plants a gentle kiss on her shoulder. She turns underneath him, rolling so she’s facing up, and then their mouths have met and no, she’s not going to work today. She sighs with satisfaction, her hand trailing the line of his torso down under the sheets. He groans into her mouth when she feathers her fingertips along his cock, then wraps her hand around its length. The morning quickie isn’t new to them, but she has an inkling that this morning is going to be less quick than usual.
He’s breathing harshly against her ear while her hand moves between them. She wants to smirk, because maybe for once, she’ll get him off first, and wouldn’t that be a first, indeed. She lets her eyes slide closed, so she can focus on the other sensations: his hardness between her fingers, his breath hot on her ear, the way he’s subtly holding her down by laying half on top of her - so casual, but absolutely deliberate.
She knows the moment is coming when he’ll turn the tables, push her legs apart, then fuck her into the mattress, thank god , and if she’s lucky, she won’t walk funny the rest of the day. That’s if she bothers to get out of bed at all, which at this stage is seeming less and less likely. As expected, he draws away from her, and her heart starts beating a shade faster, because, yes, foreplay is nice, but.
The unexpected part is when he grabs her hips and turns her over. She glances over her shoulder at him, but then his hand is between her legs, and she absolutely can’t stand how easy it is for him to get such an absolutely shameful reaction out of her (that is to say, she gives a breathy moan and buries her face entirely in a pillow).
He leans down over her back to kiss the nape of her neck, and she can hardly stand it, but before she has a chance to say it, he’s pushing her legs apart, and the next instant he’s inside her. No, she is definitely not going to work today.
This is a morning to start slow. She’s lifting her hips to meet his languid strokes, both of them clearly enjoying it just as much as the usual penchant for hard and fast. The tension also rises gradually, but it gets to the same boiling point at long last. He pulls out; she starts to protest, but before she can, he’s turning her over onto her back, tossing one of her legs over his shoulder. Hands firm on her hips (she’s had bruises there for weeks now because he doesn’t know the meaning of “restraint”), he pulls her into his lap - ah, and there’s hard and fast.
On her back, she can’t use the pillow to muffle her moaning of his name, but she suspects he’d prefer it that way. She slaps her hand onto his wrist, holding on to anchor herself to the moment, to him, to the entirely unreasonable wish that this could be every morning for the rest of her life. Her hand slides up his arm, she tugs at him to pull him down for a kiss, awkward as it is with her leg up, and he meets her mouth gladly with his own.
She breaks away, tossing her head back when that familiar heat in her core starts to build, and he spares a hand from her waist to palm one of her breasts. (There are bruises there, too, and she suspects that these, like her hips, will just keep getting worse the longer he stays.)
“I’m--” She starts to warn him, but orgasms can be sneaky, and before she can finish a word, she is, and warning is a moot point. He finished at almost the same time, and there’s a moment when they’re pressed together as tight as they can manage and it’s almost not enough, but she opens her eyes to meet his, and the moment is just simply perfect.
They are, as usual, covered in a light sheen of sweat, breathing heavily while they straighten up. She pulls him down onto the pillow with her, snuggling her head up under his chin, which always manages to fit perfectly when they’re laying like that. There’s no hesitation at all, not a single hiccup, as he wraps his arms around her and rests his cheek against the top of her head.