Sweet Slumber

SWEET SLUMBER

By: Kyara Caledonii

Copyright March 28, 1998

*** WARNING: NC-17 Suggestive. ***

I don't know how he came to be in my bed. I suppose I don't much care as I quietly shut the door and ease into the rocker, moving it closer to the bed. But whatever possessed me, I muse, to change the bedding this morning with those Winnie the Pooh sheets received as a joke. He looks incongruous sprawled against the cotton-candy colors.

Lying on his back, arm flung over his head, his soft snores are sweet music and I find myself slowing my breathing to match his. My eyes take this chance, this unexpected liberty to roam slowly over him. I memorize the hollows of his shoulders, the curve of his neck. Many times, I've seen him smooth an errant lock behind that ear; a caressing touch that I've imagined behind my own.

My eyes are drawn to his hands. The one lying above his head is curled slightly in sleep. I can see the nicks and marks from working with his hands and this pleases me. Is he perhaps slightly clumsy? My own fingers are restless to touch his palm; I'm sure they're hardened, maybe even rough. This endears him more to me.

Moving down the length of him, the comforter hides his body, but his chest is broad and strong, his nipples little beads poking up under his tee-shirt. The hair under his arm is lighter than his locks and looks silky to touch. His leg moves suddenly and his foot peeks vulnerably out of the bottom of the cover. Big toe and wrinkled sole; I smile. Is he ticklish? Would he laugh or frown and say 'don't' if I were to run my fingernail down the center of his foot? My fingers flinch again.

My breath stops and I quickly sit back as something in his dreams disturbs him and he abruptly turns over and faces away from me. When my heart stops pounding, I'm emboldened to lean forward, ever so silent, and carefully place the palm of my hand on the warm spot he just left on my bed.

Closer to him, I'm aware that his scent has permeated this room. Nothing chemical or contrived, it's his own aura. It reminds me of bales in the hay mound, the sharpness in the air before a storm, chamomile tea and Downy; no, that must be the sheets. Something in my stomach kicks as I think of sliding into bed tonight, pressing my nose into my pillow and drawing deeply his smell that he'll leave behind.

The cover has bunched around him and his shirt is pushed up his back, leaving the delicious hollow of his spine exposed. The sunlight gilds the fine hairs at the dip above the waist-band of his sweatpants. The curve of his buttock is just visible and yes, my fingers twitch again.

I almost jump to my feet as he again restlessly rolls back and faces me entirely. Now, I can't catch my breath as I wait for his eyes to open and this all come to an end. But they don't.

He settles down in the softness of my bed. I can hear the slight rasp of several days of beard growth as he languidly rubs his face on my Pooh pillowcase and his hands come up to tuck under his cheek.

I'm free now to devour his face. The jutting thick brows hood those eyes that captivate me. I wonder what colors they'd become, reflecting the Pooh characters he's lying on. His lashes lie halfway down his cheeks, I swear, and is there anything more delicious than mussy curls spread out on the pillow? But my favorite part of him I savor last. His mouth. The little nubbin of flesh at the center of his upper lip. I'm always drawn to it. It reminds me of a newborn babe and seems out of place on such a strong face. I have to clench my hands now as this is the place I most want to trace; with my finger, my nose, my tongue. I sit on my hands.

Trying to control my breathing, I focus on a spot near his knee; it's Tigger dancing on a cloud. A change in the room causes me to look up and into his open eyes. His gaze is direct to me and doesn't waver as I gasp and sit back startled. He's awake. I'm mesmerized and can't look away. I struggle for something to say; some explanation.

"Hi", I say softly.

"Hi", he whispers back.

His eyes close and he smiles as he murmurs, "I dreamt of you."

Again he watches me, and I don't notice his hand sneaking stealthily across the sheet until I feel his finger slowly trace a small circle on my knee.

Slowly I slip my hand into his and with a smile he drags me into his arms, his lips touch mine with such tenderness that I feel my heart will break.

Then suddenly i feel his hands covering my naked skin. How did I get naked? I question myself as his lips begin a slow descent following his hands.

His tongue and lips trace a path down my cheek, throat, collarbone, breasts where he slowly swirls his tongue around my nipples before sucking them into his delicious mouth.

I arch agaisnt him as his fingers and mouth make me cry out in pleasure.

Roy looks up as my fingers tangle in his precious cinnamon curls. his smile is slow and seductive as he slowly buries his face against my tummy, kissing and swirling his tongue into my navel.

I sigh and allow him complete access to every inch of my body. closing my eyes i experience the most alluring sensations.

His lips and fingers tease, touch, nibble and bite every inch of my skin until he reaches the apex of my thighs. suddenly he blows his warm breath against my heated center and I explode in a thousand pieces as his tongue laps me gently.

"Merci." I whispered as i slowly come out of my stupor.

He looks up at me from my tummy, where he has laid his head and smiles.

"I love to watch you lose control cherie." he whispers softly and slides up toward my lips. gently covering my own, we begin again this sensual morning dance.

The End.


	SWEET SLUMBER By: Kyara Caledonii Copyright March 28, 1998 ***All Rights Reserved. Story cannot be reprinted/reproduced without Kyara's permission.* * WARNING: NC-17 Suggestive. * I don't know how he came to be in my bed. I suppose I don't much care as I quietly shut the door and ease into the rocker, moving it closer to the bed. But whatever possessed me, I muse, to change the bedding this morning with those Winnie the Pooh sheets received as a joke. He looks incongruous sprawled against the cotton-candy colors. Lying on his back, arm flung over his head, his soft snores are sweet music and I find myself slowing my breathing to match his. My eyes take this chance, this unexpected liberty to roam slowly over him. I memorize the hollows of his shoulders, the curve of his neck. Many times, I've seen him smooth an errant lock behind that ear; a caressing touch that I've imagined behind my own. My eyes are drawn to his hands. The one lying above his head is curled slightly in sleep. I can see the nicks and marks from working with his hands and this pleases me. Is he perhaps slightly clumsy? My own fingers are restless to touch his palm; I'm sure they're hardened, maybe even rough. This endears him more to me. Moving down the length of him, the comforter hides his body, but his chest is broad and strong, his nipples little beads poking up under his tee-shirt. The hair under his arm is lighter than his locks and looks silky to touch. His leg moves suddenly and his foot peeks vulnerably out of the bottom of the cover. Big toe and wrinkled sole; I smile. Is he ticklish? Would he laugh or frown and say 'don't' if I were to run my fingernail down the center of his foot? My fingers flinch again. My breath stops and I quickly sit back as something in his dreams disturbs him and he abruptly turns over and faces away from me. When my heart stops pounding, I'm emboldened to lean forward, ever so silent, and carefully place the palm of my hand on the warm spot he just left on my bed. Closer to him, I'm aware that his scent has permeated this room. Nothing chemical or contrived, it's his own aura. It reminds me of bales in the hay mound, the sharpness in the air before a storm, chamomile tea and Downy; no, that must be the sheets. Something in my stomach kicks as I think of sliding into bed tonight, pressing my nose into my pillow and drawing deeply his smell that he'll leave behind. The cover has bunched around him and his shirt is pushed up his back, leaving the delicious hollow of his spine exposed. The sunlight gilds the fine hairs at the dip above the waist-band of his sweatpants. The curve of his buttock is just visible and yes, my fingers twitch again. I almost jump to my feet as he again restlessly rolls back and faces me entirely. Now, I can't catch my breath as I wait for his eyes to open and this all come to an end. But they don't. He settles down in the softness of my bed. I can hear the slight rasp of several days of beard growth as he languidly rubs his face on my Pooh pillowcase and his hands come up to tuck under his cheek. I'm free now to devour his face. The jutting thick brows hood those eyes that captivate me. I wonder what colors they'd become, reflecting the Pooh characters he's lying on. His lashes lie halfway down his cheeks, I swear, and is there anything more delicious than mussy curls spread out on the pillow? But my favorite part of him I savor last. His mouth. The little nubbin of flesh at the center of his upper lip. I'm always drawn to it. It reminds me of a newborn babe and seems out of place on such a strong face. I have to clench my hands now as this is the place I most want to trace; with my finger, my nose, my tongue. I sit on my hands. Trying to control my breathing, I focus on a spot near his knee; it's Tigger dancing on a cloud. A change in the room causes me to look up and into his open eyes. His gaze is direct to me and doesn't waver as I gasp and sit back startled. He's awake. I'm mesmerized and can't look away. I struggle for something to say; some explanation. "Hi", I say softly. "Hi", he whispers back. His eyes close and he smiles as he murmurs, "I dreamt of you." Again he watches me, and I don't notice his hand sneaking stealthily across the sheet until I feel his finger slowly trace a small circle on my knee. Slowly I slip my hand into his and with a smile he drags me into his arms, his lips touch mine with such tenderness that I feel my heart will break. Then suddenly i feel his hands covering my naked skin. How did I get naked? I question myself as his lips begin a slow descent following his hands. His tongue and lips trace a path down my cheek, throat, collarbone, breasts where he slowly swirls his tongue around my nipples before sucking them into his delicious mouth. I arch agaisnt him as his fingers and mouth make me cry out in pleasure. Roy looks up as my fingers tangle in his precious cinnamon curls. his smile is slow and seductive as he slowly buries his face against my tummy, kissing and swirling his tongue into my navel. I sigh and allow him complete access to every inch of my body. closing my eyes i experience the most alluring sensations. His lips and fingers tease, touch, nibble and bite every inch of my skin until he reaches the apex of my thighs. suddenly he blows his warm breath against my heated center and I explode in a thousand pieces as his tongue laps me gently. "Merci." I whispered as i slowly come out of my stupor. He looks up at me from my tummy, where he has laid his head and smiles. "I love to watch you lose control cherie." he whispers softly and slides up toward my lips. gently covering my own, we begin again this sensual morning dance. The End.**