Summary: Andrei wakes up in the middle of the night and can't sleep.
Word Count: 2K
Warnings: Smut (18+ ONLY). Established relationship dubcon/somnophilia, unprotected sex, creampie.
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A dull throbbing in his stomach rouses him from sleep. What is that?
Slowly, groggily, Andrei blinks a few times, vision foggy as consciousness finds its way back to him. Soft light is starting to leak through the curtains, and he can make out your sleeping silhouette in the first bits of the morning sun. Your body rises and falls slowly as you breathe, fast asleep still. Dreaming, maybe.
He’s awake now. Awake enough to register that it’s early. And that the throbbing in his stomach, the one that woke him, is actually a raging hard on.
An exhale, a glance at the clock on the nightstand. 3:56am.
Then, he looks back toward you, admiring your form, so beautiful even when sleeping. His eyes trail over your figure, gaze tracing over your dips and curves as a memory of last night floods back to him: Sighs, moans, the feeling of your soft skin underneath his fingertips, of the type of pleasure he’s never had with anyone else. The thought alone earns a low pulse between his legs.
He sucks in a breath when he moves the sheet slightly to see your shirt—his shirt—riding up your back, and—no panties.
And fuck, if you aren’t still dripping. Even in the low light of the morning, he can see the way you glisten, drooling from your earlier tryst. He isn’t sure if it’s his cum or yours, briefly slipping back into a lusty daydream at the way you squeezed him, moaning out his name while your hips rolled in his lap, milking him for all he's worth. Apparently, you really liked the way he looked in his Whalers jersey—you made him keep the white and green sweatband on, now lying somewhere on the floor after you threatened to use it to tie his wrists together if he didn’t let you take control.
Almost as if on cue, his dick throbs against his leg, like it’s pleading with him to be inside you. He groans, moving to grip his cock in his hand and using the visual of your soaked cunt as inspiration. Briefly, he wonders if he should move to the bathroom to avoid waking you, but he can’t bring himself to move from the warmth of your body or the scent of your shampoo—it plays an important part in the stiff rigidity against his palm.
Andrei imagines his fist is your pussy, gripping himself tightly as he ascends into heaven. It’s not the same without your moans of encouragement, the cutest sounds that have him hard in seconds.
But no matter how hard he strokes, how good it feels, he can’t quite get there, feeling like he’s hit an invisible wall before reaching the finish line. He grunts, squeezing himself so tightly it hurts, and he releases his dick in frustration. He’s breathing embarrassingly heavy, heart ticking in his throat, willing the tightness in his balls to just go away.
The idea comes to him in a flash and he chews on the inside of his cheek, mulling it over.
Just the tip, he thinks, it’ll be fine. She told me it was fine.
For a moment, the only sound in the room is the steady hum of your breathing while he has an internal debate beside you. And then you shift, a soft sigh falling from your lips in the exact same way you sound when he buries himself inside you, and his dick twitches against his stomach.
Fuck it.
With far more patience than he thought he was capable of, he inches his hips forward, pausing to grit his teeth at the way his head bumps against your soft, wet lips. Slowly, he runs the tip along your slit, teasing you even in your sleep. You sigh out a sleepy moan, the sound escaping on an exhale, and he feels himself throb in the loose grip he has on his dick.
Steadily, achingly slowly, he nudges himself between your lips, pushing just into your entrance. His eyes are drawn to the subtle movement of your hips, your hips canting backward unconsciously to seek out more of the feeling. Andrei can’t help but smirk to himself, smug at the way you desperately yearn for him even in your sleep.
He’s halfway inside you when another moan sounds from your mouth, lips parted this time. He bites his own lip to stop from groaning too loudly so as not to wake you; the overwhelming urge to rail you into oblivion is nearly ready to take over and he isn’t even fully inside of you yet.
And then your back arches, unintentionally pressing him even further into you, and this time he can’t help the grunt that escapes him, or the way his hips push forward the last bit before he’s completely sheathed inside of you. The warmth of your cunt hugs him in a way that makes his eyes squeeze shut, feeling the way your walls throb around him in a way that his hand could never replicate.
Finally, pure bliss.
Soon enough, he’s moving experimentally, hyper aware of your movements, watching carefully to see if you’re awake. One hand grasps onto your hip, holding your body in place while he rolls his against you. His thrusts are slow, intentional, observing your reactions so he can earn that sweet, sleepy moan of yours again.
Very gradually, Andrei picks up his pace, burying himself to the hilt each time. With a glance down, he watches the way your ass presses against his hips with each push forward, hand itching to spank you. Instead, he occupies himself with pressing his chest against your back, leaning forward slightly to drape his arm over your hip, hand dancing over your mound. He teases alongside his leisuresome tempo, fingers working their way around your clit before finally landing on it. With another encouraging moan from you, he begins timing his thrusts forward with a brush of your clit.
It’s only a few moments later that a low, husky sigh leaves your mouth and your hips begin rolling against him of their own accord. You’re awake, and fuck, you want it. The way your body moves is uninhibited, using him to seek further pleasure and find your high.
“Andrei,” you whisper, far too strung out to ask how you got here, instead gripping onto the strong, flexing muscle of his bicep. Your tone is begging, though he wants to be sure what for before he continues.
“Yeah, kisa, what do you want?” he murmurs, lips pressing against your shoulder blade. His voice is soft, deep, and he can feel the way you clench around him at the sound of his voice.
You reply in a wanton moan, the words indiscernible. Although it pains him to do so, he stills the grinding of your hips. “What’s that, sweetheart?”
He almost laughs at the way you whimper when his large hand prevents you from resuming your gyration. You’re cute when you’re confused, when sleep is still heavy in your eyes despite the very awake sensations in your body.
“Drei,” you whisper, “please, fuck me.”
The desperation in your voice has him throbbing inside your walls, the sensation in turn earning a tight clench around him. He’s got a little bit of patience left, the smallest drop, enough to steady the slow push of his hips as he inches his way back inside you.
It’s worth it, he thinks, by the lilt of your moan. He’s teasing, riling the both of you up, relishing the delicious way you squeeze him. Another cry of his name has his resolve evaporating in an instant, snapping his hips forward as he buries himself to the hilt. The action earns a wail from your throat, encouraging him to keep going, setting a pace that’s patient but rough, hitting all of the right spots.
“Fuck,” he grunts, entwining his fingers with yours when your hands flail around in search of purchase, holding yourself steady to accept the force of his thrusts. It takes everything in him to stay focused, to keep a rhythm he knows is worth keeping by the way it’ll drive you lustfully mad for him.
The sensation of getting railed so deeply and so thoroughly while the shade of sleep still hasn’t been entirely shaken from your eyes is exquisite; still pliant beneath his hands, unable to control the whimpers that escape your throat.
“Andrei,” you moan, and he feels the impact directly in his balls.
“Love how pretty you sound when you're all fucked out for me,” he purrs in your ear. “So slutty and needy, just for me, kisa. Tell me what you want.”
Another whimper follows his command, and he feels the way you clench tightly around him. “W-want you to—fuck—make me… come. Please.”
He breathes out his chuckle in a husky whisper. “Already, milaya?”
Your reply is a jumble of words that he can’t quite hear, so he slows his pace down to buy himself a little time; Andrei knows he won't last, knows that as soon as he feels the tidalwave of your orgasm begin, he'll lose it entirely, and sleep is too near for him to stave it off. So, he slows his pace down to buy himself some time when your reply is another jumble of words he can’t quite hear.
“Was dreaming—’bout you inside of me.”
“Fuck,” he says, the realization that you were already dreaming about him mere hours after he’d already ravaged you thoroughly hitting him square in the chest. The thought nearly makes him go dizzy. “You were already dreaming about this? About my cock fucking this gorgeous, needy pussy? That why you so wet for me, lyubimaya?”
“Always dream about your cock, Drei,” you say with a gasp when he thrusts his hips forward sharply in approval.
“Such a perfect little slut for me,” he groans. “Think maybe I will reward you by letting you come for me, again.”
All he gets in response from you is an eager cry, his hips punching forward and setting a new, quck rhythm that has the breath in your throat catching. It doesn’t take long for both of your releases to build back up to their boiling points, that delicious, bubbling heat reaching its crescendo at the place where your bodies meet.
For a moment, time stands still. There's a few blissful seconds just before the peak begins, those few glorious moments at the top of a roller coaster before the drop. Andrei feels like he could burst with love and joy—and sure, yes, burst with something else—and it's positively euphoric, like he's at the top of the world.
And then both of you erupt in mutual release, him spilling deep into your clenching core, your cry of ecstasy masking his deep, low grunt of your name. The world is ablaze, along with every sense and nerve in your bodies, pleasure blanketing you in a world of bliss.
When he finally comes to, he feels your skin against his chest first, warm against his panting chest. Your pussy, wet and warm and still wrapped snugly around his length, twitches weakly. Andrei allows his hand to stroke soft, gentle patterns onto your stomach as he prepares himself to pull out of your perfect heat.
Your small sigh of protest when he does has him clenching his jaw, willing the blood to not surge back to his dick. Then, carefully, shift your body to turn around and face him. Your eyes are still sleepy, but the dopey smile on your face makes his heart soar.
“That was fun,” you whisper, like you've only just realized how late—early?—it is.
“Couldn't help it, lyubimaya,” he says. “Needed you.”
You press a soft kiss to his lips and warmth fills his body. He tries to hide the way his knees wobble as he rolls off the bed to fetch a cloth to clean both of you up; afterward, he's slipping back underneath the covers, accepting your frame instantly into his arms.
“If we go back to sleep now,” you murmur, “there'll still be a chance for you to wake me up in the morning like this again.”
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