Content Warning:
Explicit sexual themes intended
for those 18+

Feel free to skip this chapter,
otherwise, enjoy ;)

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There are moments sometimes, when you're caught halfway between sleeping dreams and wakeful awareness, when it's hard to know which is which. When they blend seamlessly. When it seems your dreams are coming to fruition.

In those moments, when you first wake, everything feels almost unreal. It's when you feel or hear things but don't quite comprehend their reality.

So when I feel warm and fuzzy inside, when I feel hyper-sensitive all over my skin, I take in a deep breath and revel in it. I let the rush of seductive sensations wash over me—a carnal rush I haven't felt in a long while.

At least when it's not self-induced. And these are decidedly not, considering how still I am. Even the idea of movement remains irrelevant and foreign.

There is subtle movement around me though, so I focus on that lifeline, on the motions giving me these sweet sensations.

There it is again, on my hip. A grinding pressure, sending flutters through my stomach and chest.

And there. Sliding right over my groin. That's where the warmth and pressure is.

My senses start to take hold. This is too real to be a dream. I can actually feel this, it's not just in my head.

My toes flex and I feel my sheet. My fingers flex and I feel... soft material radiating with a refreshing chill.

Kal.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I've made the connection. My subconscious already knew he was here. Even though, in my dream, there wasn't a face attached to whoever was making those movements against me, I think I already just knew.

The fingers of my other hand find his silky hair to bury themselves into, while I simultaneously grip the cool fabric across his hip.

I need to grip onto something because damn, these feelings are hitting me even harder as I wake.

My hold triggers another round of motion from him, and now semi-conscious, I finally realize what's happening:

He's grinding into me.

His hips rotate against me, his solid length pressing into my upper thigh. His leg is strewn across me in a way that every thrust from his hips sends his knee sliding across my own hardening mass.

Fuck, it's heavenly.

My room is dead silent besides his uneven breaths brushing across my collarbone, and judging by the occasional random twitch, I guarantee he's still asleep.

He's sleep-humping me.

Is it weird that I'm kind of into it?

I wonder if he's just having a random wet dream, or if, like myself, his subconscious knows it's me? Which I realize is less likely, but hey, one can hope.

Maybe it could be due to the familiar scent? I've begun to recognize his minty-vanilla aroma nearly as well as I know my own. Or the feel of him? His contrasting temperature is unique to just him, so it doesn't leave much to question.

Right now he's emitting a fierce chill. It emanates from all over him, seeping around and blanketing us in it. His hands are the worst though, the one laying on my stomach is nearly ice-cold—I'm surprised it's not frosted over.

If he's anything like me (which at this point, I know he is) it probably has to do with the building tension; When I get turned on, it gets hard for me to control my fire and heat.

Like now, my breaths are coming heavy and hot, while my hands and core are sweltering. His hand resting on me is a welcome reprieve.

Gods, this whole situation is crazy... we're supposed to stay friends, to try and keep some semblance of safety in our relationship. But here he is rubbing on me—whether aware of it or not—and here I am enjoying it.

I really should stop him.

But... technically he is helping with my heat. Regardless of how or why he's using his ice affinity, even if it's sexually charged, he is inadvertently using it to subdue my rebellious weaving.

But... I don't want to take advantage of him sleeping through this, I'm not that kind of person. The idea leaves a bad taste in the back of my mouth and Ronan's voice echoes in my head, "unconscious Kal is off-limits".

I should stop him. I definitely should.

I allow myself one more deep breath, inhaling the thickened air. I allow myself one more agonizing thrust to crash into and over top of me. I allow my hand to slip down his hip and under the back of his thigh, to grip the bare skin there. And maybe I allow my fingertips to slide just a tiny bit under the hem of his boxers to graze the bottom lip of his ass.

One last thrust—actually the last this time—has me growling a stifled moan. My grip tightens as he slides along me. Then I exhale a shaky breath.

No more, I convince myself. Push his leg off. Pull away. Turn over. I picture how easy it is in my mind, but actually making myself do it is a much bigger struggle.

Kal stirs.

He sucks in a sudden breath as he jerks awake and I can feel his eyelashes tickle against my neck.

Shit. I squeeze my eyes shut and go still. Shit, shit.

He doesn't move at all for a few quiet moments. I try to keep my breathing deep and even, but my hammering heart makes it difficult. Then he shifts against me in small, testing movements that have me clenching my jaw. His hand shifts next, sliding up over my ribs before tracing down my abs.

It occurs to me then that during all our "chill sessions" and random cuddling, he's never really touched my stomach like this—or me at all. I've put my hands on his stomach a few times to cool off or warm him up, and I'm slowly getting used to him casually touching me in general, like resting a hand on my arm or neck or chest, or even holding my hand... but it's never been like this.

I'm pretty sure this would be defined as being felt up. And I decidedly like it. A lot.

He's still in the process of waking up, and probably at the exact point that I was a few minutes ago—a little disoriented and confused as to what's real. So I'm not surprised by his exploration.

What does surprise me is that after a few tentative deliberations, his motions become more intentional. Larger motions that are deeper and more fluid than his sleep-induced ones.

Tantalizingly slow he rocks his hips, running his entire length—which is more substantial than I had originally realized—up and down along my thigh posed between his legs.

His head moves slightly at about the same time, so his nose runs lightly up the side of my neck. I have to tense my muscles to prevent a shiver from releasing down my spine.

By now he has to know it's me. Between the uncontrolled heat I'm radiating, his fingers still surveying my stomach, and his nose on my neck, there's no way he couldn't know. It takes every bit of my restraint to not smile like a giddy little boy. He's choosing to do this with me. Maybe he's just horny and half-asleep, but regardless, there still has to be a rational part of him that wants this.

Now the question is: What the hell do I do about it?

I want to reciprocate. To tighten my grip again, pull him in, and guide his knee over me. To run my fingers and palm over his cool skin, over his side and back, or further into his boxers.

I want that so bad, my fingers are already twitching to move.

No. I can't. I'm not going to ruin this. Who knows what would happen if I engage while I still don't have my flames under control. And tomorrow, when we wake up? What then?

It's better like this. This is fine, it's good. I'll just keep still and pretend I'm sleeping, and in the morning nothing has to change.

For now though, I'll just let him continue and do whatever it is he wants to do with me. I have no complaints.

He tilts his head back so his nose, and now his lips too, glide up my neck again and over my jawline. He finally pauses when we're about level, and since my eyes are still plastered shut the only way I can tell is by the feel of his nose brushing the tip of mine and his panting breath on my lips.

Is he going to kiss me? I could lean in to meet him... It would be so easy. If I did, would he pull away?

He rocks against me again and I'm so hyper-sensitive right now that when his leg brushes across me I can't stop my fingers from digging into that junction behind his thigh.

As soon as I realize what I've done I go slack again.
I'm sleeping. I'm sleeping. I'm sleeping.

He pulls in a sharp breath before a short, pained moan escapes from the back of his throat.

Then he rests his forehead against my own as he slows down his rotations to a halt.

What is he doing? Did he finish? I don't think so, he's still very much hard, and as sexy as this is I doubt he'd blow just from grinding... so why?

He lets out another strangled noise. But his hand still roams over my stomach and his hips are still pressed against me, unmoving. It's as if he's... conflicted.

I wonder if he had the same train of thought that I did, since he (hopefully) thinks I'm still asleep.

He stills and goes slack suddenly as he finally breaks the silence. "Fuckin' A. I can't do this to you."

His whisper is dark and quiet, but close enough in the near-silent space that I still hear him perfectly.

In one fluid motion, he drops his leg off me and flips over to face away. I'm left alone, laying on my back to keep up my sleeping facade, and quickly overheating due to my blue-balls and lack of personal A/C.

I'm hurt, for a split second.

But then I get over it because I totally understand. If he had remained laying on me like that, it would've been hard to stop himself. Prior to him waking up, I was about to do the exact same thing.

He squirms around a bit, trying to get comfortable before going mostly still. His elbow bumps my arm a few times and I tune in, trying to figure out what he's doing. The sheet that's still covering part of us starts moving slightly and I can hear something (maybe his hand?) sliding against the fabric.

What was random noise and motion moves into a slow steady rhythm.

Holy shit, I think he's touching himself.

I feel myself harden all over again at the thought: Kal's in my bed, right next to me, jerking off. I could literally reach out and touch him, he's so close to me. And of course, now that I had the thought, I want to.

But he turned away from me.

Technically—at least I'm 99% sure—he only turned away because he thought I'm still asleep and didn't want to take advantage of me. He didn't turn away because he didn't want it, he turned away because he wasn't sure if I wanted it.

I shift a little. Just enough for him to notice and allow him to pause. Then I turn onto my side and rest my arm along our bodies so I don't impede his stroking. I close any distance between us, shoving my face into the crook of his neck and my erection against his ass. Then I let out a content, lazy sigh and go slack again.

Spooning like this is no different than any other night we've slept together, so hopefully it doesn't catch him off guard. It's a gamble: he could figure out I'm awake, or just go to sleep instead of finishing... but I wanted to hold him, to have him against me again.

Just as I'd hoped, several long seconds after I've settled in, he starts back up again in slow strokes. Nothing fast or intense, just steady movements that barely have the bed swaying beneath us.

I try my best not to react when he arches his back to press his ass into me. He rotates forward again, essentially fucking into his hand, then back to grind on me.

While he gets off, I just lay here and hold him, letting him use me however the hell he wants, because holy shit, this might actually be the hottest fucking thing I've ever experienced.

It doesn't take much before his breathing quickens and his hand jerks a little more frantically. I imagine he was already pretty worked up, so jerking off is just the finishing touch, the icing on the cake, as it were.

He cums with a groan. A rumbling shiver shoots through him, icy waves felt across my chest and down the front of me before he slows down to a stop. A few heavy breaths later I hear his waistband snap back into place and a sigh slip from his lips.

His palpable relief causes me to seriously debate helping myself too. I could rub myself on his rear the same way he did to me. Kiss his neck, slide my hand between us and grip myself.

But alas, fear of crossing that line is stronger than the urge, and I'm surprisingly content with having only bore witness.

So I inhale the sharpened air and relax against him, replaying the last few minutes in my mind and trying not to focus on how or if this changes anything between us.

While these recent events are about close to a dream as they come, his quiet snores lull me back down into my actual dreamland again.