You’re asleep when he comes back to your apartment. He wants you, but he doesn’t want to wake you. You’ve had a long day, and he wants you to rest. You’re gently roused from your slumber, too groggy to fully wake up. “Shh, shh,” he whispers, his voice like a feather on your ears. “Relax, baby. Just relax and let me do all the work.” You feel hands explore your body. Because of the state you’re in, it’s a blur of full-body groping and touching, like you’re lying on a bed of skilled, wandering hands. You can’t tell when he put his cock in you, but he’s inside you suddenly, filling you, making you feel whole. It’s like the most spectacular dream, visceral but airy, solid but scattered. You weave in and out of conscious thought, there one second, gone the next. Swinging out of the world and into his arms, being rocked back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, from this plane and the next. You can’t help but wonder if this is what heaven is like. The next day you wake up clean, and you wonder if it really was a dream. But he comes in with breakfast and confirms that it did, in fact, happen, and just as he said, he took care of you. If you enjoyed it, it just might happen again sometime soon.