It’s amazing that feeling that you get when
you’re lying beside someone at three o’clock in the morning; you don’t want to sleep, just so you can watch
them as they doze; oblivious to your eyes on them.
I gaze at him in his sleeping hours, watching as he breathes in
and out, letting small moans escape from his beautiful lips. I wonder if he even knows just how beautiful he is to me, or
how much I would shatter if I thought for one moment he was not there.
I don’t sleep; I stay awake, lie on my
side and watch him. I gaze at his masculine beauty as he hugs his pillow for fear of losing it, and curls his hands up by
his face with the innocence of a child. It’s hot tonight and he’s sleeping on the outside of his duvet in red
plaid boxers and nothing but a gentle hint of a content smile.
I cast my eyes over his body and drink his beauty into
my tired eyes; the perfectly sculptured muscle on his back is cradled delicately by his soft tanned skin. Those masculine
shoulder blades that I adore so much stick out lightly, in perfect jagged curves. I ache to reach out and touch them, but
I know I will wake him and the thought of disturbing his peaceful slumber is enough to stop me. I will touch him in the morning,
just as I do every morning.
My eyes cast down his back and follow the subtle curvature of his spine and the soft flesh
that clings to it. The single bead of sweat caused by this hot summer night seems to use it as a path to cling to and travels
down, dripping onto the white sheets that crease beneath him. I can’t help but look down, past the place where his lower
spine dips delicately, and I let my eyes rest on that prime rump I admire so much. I let a smile tug at my lips and cover
my mouth with the palm of my hand as I gaze at it and the way that the red plaid boxers cover it so perfectly. I want to remove
my hand from where they rest on my lips and tug them down slightly; I ache to playfully strike him and hear the small slapping
sound that is like music to my ears. I decide not to.
From that point onwards I let my eyes lurk over his sculptured
thighs, covered in dark strands of gentle curled hair. I allow my view travel south, down past the back of his knees and over
the hard muscle on his calves. I look at his ankles and admire the way that the bottom of his bone disappears into his heel,
taking the wraps of soft skin with it. And in that soft spot on either side of the bone, where they create small dints just
large enough to out your fingers into, the lack of hair astonishes me.
I look down as far down the bed as I can see
and look to the sole of his foot, and the spot I know causes him to giggle like a schoolgirl when I blow on it. His feet are
the most sensitive part of him, apart from the other more obvious sensitive parts of his perfect male form, and I smile at
the knowledge of the power that I hold over him. By that simple act of tracing a finger across the rough skin on his heel
I know that I can get whatever I want. The small creases in his feet spread outwards and create small grooves that I enjoy
tracing my fingers over whilst he laughs himself into stitches, unable to move. I can’t do it now; it would wake him
and that’s the last thing I want.
He turns in his sleep, rolls over onto his back and lands on his side just
like he does every night and I can see his face in the dim yellow light of the street lamp outside. The chocolate brown hair
on his head is ruffled from the way he settles his head on the pillow and when you look closely you can see the pillow creases
on his cheek that I yearn to iron out with my fingers. His skin is so smooth with one contrasting scar, etched into his face
that seems to make him even more beautiful. His imperfections truly are the most perfect thing about him, in ways that nobody
can understand until they watch him sleeping.
I cast my eyes across his face which is directly in front of me now;
I slide down on the pillow and look at him closely. I urge to reach out and cup his face with my hands and touch the smooth
skin that I love so much. I want to kiss his eyes whilst he is sleeping and run my cheek up against his to feel the stubble
that scratches the pillow when he moves. I need to kiss his lips when I see him sleeping, and as I watch the way that they
part so slightly in his deep slumber I want to feel them on my own, caressing my mouth in the early morning, before most people
I watch the gentle contours of his toned body as he breathes; the rising and falling of his chest is
too much to handle and I would give anything to touch him and nestle my head into him, sleeping whilst he held me in his arms
like he always does in winter. It is too hot to hold me tonight, too hot to do anything but watch him as he sleeps through
the heat that I simply cannot.
I gently touch my hands to his shoulders, not even coming into contact with him, but
I feel him move at the heat and moan through his mouth, letting a small smile grace his lips without even knowing. I watch
the beauty of the smoothness of his skin, glistening in the early morning as the gentle light from outside hits it, causing
a small patch of yellow across his tanned skin. His arms are strong and toned without being too muscular; they are gently
sculpted with soft muscle and covered in beautiful young skin which never seems to age.
His waist is toned, but not
too much, with a few hairs in a whirlpool around his navel, continuing down past the elastic and into the red plaid boxers
he wears for bed. The top of his hips protrude slightly, covered in that light muscle that he has everywhere, with a small
amount of spare flesh to hold onto. I love holding onto that spare ounce of flesh when we make love and feel the smoothness
of his body against mine.
My eyes cast down to the creases in his boxers, causing shadows that show where that ever-present
bulge is. I yearn to reach down and touch it but that would wake him up with a start and it will be several hours until I
can wake him. Maybe at six I can wake him in a way which would please him very much and we can have that hour of play before
we both have to get up and go to work; maybe I’ll wake him at five.
He moves in his sleep, startling me, and
hits his nose with the palm of his hand to warn off an itch and it makes me smile to watch him as he does it without thinking.
His hands are large and I love them most. The way that the skin between his fingers seems to stretch out as he hits his nose
again gently send shivers through me. The way that his thumb seems so much longer than it should; it’s a few times the
size of mine and it oozes everything sexual and masculine about him. I can imagine his fingers as they move across my skin
when he wakes in the morning and he will cup my cheek with a gentle caress before kissing my lips softly. I pay close attention
to his thumb, and admire the way the gentle pink of his nail curves, with thin vertical lines etched in which make them look
as though they were only just created. I catch a glimpse of the wedding band in white gold which he proudly wears; the band
that binds him to me for all eternity and one which he has worn for almost ten years without removing even once. It looks
almost new to me and glistens in the light. I move my hand beside his and compare the two rings, different in size but identical
in style and meaning. I smile outwardly, as well as inwardly, as I think of what could be going through his mind. It is four
o’clock now and I realise I have spent an hour looking at my husband as he slept, there is only one more hour until
it is possible to wake him without him behaving like a bear with a sore head.
I touch my fingers to his softly, but
I hope I don’t wake him, he works hard and he deserves his sleep, but the selfish part of me wants him to open his eyes
so I can look at the blue depths that seem so bright in the morning.
He moans lightly, entwining my fingers with his
own and takes them to his mouth, kissing them lightly. The warmth of his lips on my fingers warms my heart and I know he is
still partly sleeping, dead to the world. He grasps my hand in his and holds it close to his chest, snuggling into it.
you been watching me again?” he asks in a low throaty growl, letting a smile dance across his lips.
was hot,” I say, making my daily excuse. But Pacey knows me; he knows I have been watching him to see when he will wake.
“It’s not too hot to sleep,” he argues, finally opening his eyes and looking directly into mine;
I catch my breath, still after ten years of sleeping by his side every night the sight of his eyes gazing directly into mine
makes my breath catch in my chest. His eyes are blue; a colour of blue it is impossible to categorise or compare to anything
else and they sparkle with a light film that somehow makes them magical in appearance. His chameleon eyes darken slightly
as he leans over to me and covers my lips with his own. “I couldn’t wait another hour,” he tells me, caressing
my cheek with his hands in the exact same way I had thought about minutes earlier.
“Well you’re just lucky
“How is it possible that you get more radiant every single morning,” he asks, pulling
my body underneath his as he moved himself on top of me slightly; I know what he has in mind.
just losing you sight,” I retort, smiling through the kisses he places all over my neck. The gentle grating of his rough
stubble against my smooth skin is something that I always enjoy about his morning kisses; there is something almost erotic
He moves his hands down the side of my face, finally resting them on my jaw and tilting my head to his lips;
he always does that. Moving his hands down my body he unbuttons my nightshirt and slides his hands into the space, parting
the material to gain access to my body. The heat of his hands causes a trail of sensations so intense it’s almost as
if he cools me down to heat me up again. He runs his hands over my breasts and cups them, squeezing them gently; they are
tender and he knows to be careful.
He moves his lips down my neck and over my chest, taking one of my breasts in his
mouth and sucking on the nipple gently, tasting my skin before moving south and placing feather light kisses over my swollen
abdomen. He smiles every time he kisses it, still amazed at the life that grows within me. He places his large hands over
my stomach and spends a few moments just caressing the small bump before moving south and parting my legs with his thick fingers.
He pauses a moment, teasing me cruelly, before placing gentle kisses on my clit and swirling his tongue around it;
it drives me wild and he knows it. I close my eyes and enjoy his loving sensations, arching my back when I feel his expert
tongue delve deeply inside of me. I feel his lips curve into a smile as he watches me; I know he is watching me from his spot
down there, gazing up at me and smiling at the way he makes me react to his gentle, loving touch.
He runs his hand
down my legs and removes his tongue slowly; he replaces it with his fingers and moves his lips up my body. The hot trails
of tender kisses are ignited by fire as the heat inside of me grows. He builds up the rhythm with his fingers and quickens
his pace slightly, he can feel my walls contract against his fingers and I know it.
The heat inside of me, caused
by his fingers inside and his lips on my skin, rises and I react to the gentle burn that starts at my toes and works its way
up. It tingles; tiny sensations like gusts of wind make their way up my body and pass through me, rising from the heat between
my legs and travel slowly towards my head. The sensations, now like butterflies wings, flutter their way up my body and rest
on my head, fluttering more and more as I feel the waves cascade through me.
I open my mouth and let the moan escape;
nobody can hear so I don’t stifle it.
Pacey smiles against me and removes his fingers, kissing my lips and removing
his red plaid boxers, releasing the erection that ached to be removed. Moving between my legs he places the tip against my
entrance and pushes inside of me slowly.
Our breath mingles together as he moves himself in and out of me, kissing
my neck and shoulders, delving his tongue into the heat of my moth and exploring me, tasting everything I offer.
let my hands roam his back, pulling him closer to me and arching my back; I need him deeper. No matter how deep inside of
me I feel him I always want more, I always yearn to feel him closer to me, desperate to feel as much of this man as I can.
feel the heat inside of me as I approach the edge, but I wait for him; I feel his lips pull from mine and his mouth open to
allow himself to breathe. His heart beets faster against my chest; I can feel it beating with my own. Gruff moans escape his
mouth and dissolve into my skin as he rests his forehead against my shoulder, kissing me whilst I run my fingers through his
hair. I feel him push into me harder as his rhythm quickens;’ I know he is close, but not as close as I. He tips me
over the edge, and a few moments later allows himself to do the same, emptying himself inside of me with a groan so deep and
jagged I can feel it against my skin, vibrating though me.
He kisses my shoulders, my neck, and finally my lips, pulling
away from my body and catching his breath.
He turns me around, so my back is resting against his soft chest, and pulls
the light blanket over us. He holds me for a long time; almost an hour and finally, when he has no option, lets me go.
night if it’s hot I will watch him again; I will gaze at the wonder of him and drink his vision into my eyes again.
But I will never stop wondering how he knows what I’m thinking whilst he is sleeping.