It's early.
Well, it's early for us, though in earth time, who knows. And no, babe, we aren't aliens, just two people, lovers, who fell asleep, all tangled-up like, drunk (of course), tired, fucking exhausted, wrapped-up-wrapped-up-wrapped-up and so fucking smitten, you... so so smitten.
Too early to admit to being awake, even to this person, because sleeping like this is such a heavenly gift and who would ever want to get up. On my side. You behind me, wrapping me, safe-ing me, pressed up tight, no gaps. Arm loosely around me, cupping a breast in your sleep. Yours, mine, hell, it's yours if you can find a use for it. And we've both discovered that you, my enterprising young friend, can find several.
Tired, me. But greedy. And I lie and I soak this on up, through every pore I soak you on up. I don't want you to wake, so I just gently, gently push my arse back up against what's behind it, and I feel just the slightest hinty-est hint of a response and I smile to myself and relax and wait and wait.
I take your hand, on that breast, all yours, and I softly squeeze it, reminding you, sleepy-boy, of what's underneath, and you know, awake, asleep, and you squeeze it yourself, but it's the slightly, just slightly, more... hmmm... assertive response from down below, up against me that shows me bits, at least, are starting to wake up.
I push myself, my back, up up against you and enjoy that a little and then, before you can decide to wake up, I roll onto my back, babe, and open my legs, all casual of course, and your hand, which does like to squeeze, runs right on down to a place it's clearly on a mission to explore.
Down my body, pausing briefly when it reaches that hairline and taking a moment to possessively (and why not) just cup that whole area, us all quiet, eyes closed, before slipping a finger, a hand, through to rest in a softer, warmer, damper, and, should you care to inspect later, pinker place. Rest being a relative term, as, sleepy-boy or no, you slide and slip and rub your way around there awhile, while I just open up wider, and you slip a couple (I don't stop and look) of fingers up and inside me, and back and forth a little... a lot.