eric_foreman (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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alwaysright2010-06-06 07:00 pm
eric_foreman) wrote in alwaysright2010-06-06 07:00 pm
November 8
Foreman grunted and shifted when Amber prodded him awake and led him to bed. He woke up enough to strip down to his boxers and slide between the fresh sheets with her, but hardly conscious enough to get smug that she'd invited him back into her bed. Definitely not awake enough to think through the implications--such as the fact that he didn't have any clean clothes at Amber's apartment, they still had to show up at work the next day even without a case, and Amber had a habit of waking up earlier than him, not only because she took more time in the mornings, but because she lived further from the hospital.
Falling asleep, once again with his arm tucked close around Amber's waist and her hips cradled in front of his, Foreman didn't spend any energy on a plan for the next day. When Amber's alarm clock went off, it felt far too soon, and Foreman groaned a low protest. Amber was warm, and though they must have shifted in the night, Foreman was still able to wriggle a fraction of an inch closer and press against her back again. He didn't want to wake up. Easier to ignore the alarm clock and nuzzle closer to the scent of Amber's nape, his mouth brushing against the juncture of her neck and shoulder.
He'd been dreaming. Something confused, fading already, although the effects of it were still apparent. A low thread of pleasure twined through his body, tingling, and keeping him very happily where he was. Foreman shifted again, all but unconscious, rocking his hips forward against Amber's ass in one slow, light press. God, she felt good. Foreman stretched, long and luxurious, rolling his shoulders and pointing his toes. Soon she'd disappear. Leap up at the bleep of the clock. Tell him to lay off and go slow. But until she pushed him away, he was going to see just where the boundary line lay. He couldn't possibly be held responsible for how she turned him on in his sleep.
Falling asleep, once again with his arm tucked close around Amber's waist and her hips cradled in front of his, Foreman didn't spend any energy on a plan for the next day. When Amber's alarm clock went off, it felt far too soon, and Foreman groaned a low protest. Amber was warm, and though they must have shifted in the night, Foreman was still able to wriggle a fraction of an inch closer and press against her back again. He didn't want to wake up. Easier to ignore the alarm clock and nuzzle closer to the scent of Amber's nape, his mouth brushing against the juncture of her neck and shoulder.
He'd been dreaming. Something confused, fading already, although the effects of it were still apparent. A low thread of pleasure twined through his body, tingling, and keeping him very happily where he was. Foreman shifted again, all but unconscious, rocking his hips forward against Amber's ass in one slow, light press. God, she felt good. Foreman stretched, long and luxurious, rolling his shoulders and pointing his toes. Soon she'd disappear. Leap up at the bleep of the clock. Tell him to lay off and go slow. But until she pushed him away, he was going to see just where the boundary line lay. He couldn't possibly be held responsible for how she turned him on in his sleep.