Let Sleeping Men Lie

This is a work of fantasy, and contains themes of non-consent. Please read responsibly.

________________________________________________

"I'm sorry Miss, full up."

Rachel stared at the ceiling and took a deep breath. She unclipped her backpack, and let it fall heavily to the floor in front of the desk.

"Yes, I understand, it's just that I called ahead. The person I talked to on the phone..."

"Hm. Who was that?" The middle-aged desk clerk had small glasses, a shiny bald head, mildly accented English, and an obviously practiced indifference to travellers with problems.

"I don't know," Rachel sighed. "I didn't ask."

"Hm," the man behind the desk said pointedly, looking at his clipboard again. "There's no record here. Sorry. Full up."

Rachel looked at the clock on the wall behind the desk, which rested slightly past one in the morning. She closed her eyes for a moment, and the world wobbled. The idea of walking back out into the sweltering, humid night and wandering the streets looking for lodging past midnight in a city and a language she didn't know was unbearable. She considered her possible strategies: Charm and flirtation? She didn't have the charisma, and she was probably sweaty and mussed from the train. Tears and hysterics? She might be hauled away by the police, which would be worse. She chose an intermediate between the two.

"Look, I realize I should have done this better, and I'm really sorry for the inconvenience," Rachel said, untruthfully, "but I just really need a place to lie down. Could I just hang out until there's a bed available?" She tried for a sympathetic smile.

The man at the desk looked her over. She must have appeared a bit pathetic--a slender, tired, dark-featured young woman with a mop of curly brown hair and a backpack nearly as tall as her chest, travelling alone, peppered with dust and mud. He sighed, and looked down at his clipboard. There was a long moment, in which Rachel was sure he was going to send her back outside.

"Guy in dorm three is leaving in the morning," he said at last. "You can wait. There's a chair."

"Oh thank you so much," Rachel said, rushing to free her wallet from a pocket of her pack.

"Showers across the hall," the man said, looking her over again disparagingly.

***

Fifteen minutes later, Rachel crept, freshly washed, through the creaky door of the dormitory. The water had been tepid, and the night was too hot now for anything but underwear. She carefully put her dirty clothes down on top of her backpack in the corner, and slumped into the scratchy armchair. The window was cracked open and a dirty electric fan hummed away, pushing barely-cooler air into the room, along with a faint golden glow of street lamps.

Under the window, the bunk beds were full of indiscernible shapes in the shadows. In the upper bunk across from her, a tall, blonde, Nordic-looking couple were snoring softly, limbs entangled. Below, a man in his twenties in flannel pajama bottoms had kicked off his sheets in the heat, and was lying slightly curled on his side, facing her. Rachel briefly found her eyes lingering on the tight musculature where his chest met his breastbone, and his solid forearms. His backpack, propped up on the end of his bed, was strapped with a neat collection of ropes, webbing, and aluminum clips. She wondered if he was the one leaving in the morning, and if so, where to, and then she closed her eyes and tried to drift off to sleep.

***

Rachel woke up, unsure of how long she had slept, but sure it had not been very long. The fan was still humming, the light from the window still a faint orange midnight glow. The coarsely woven material of the chair was harsh on her skin, and a loose spring was digging into her hip. She couldn't sleep like this, but she also couldn't not sleep.

In front of her, the climber had stretched out, and was lying on his back tucked against the wall, his sheets in a wad near his feet. On the outside of the narrow bed was a painfully inviting open stretch of mattress. She wondered if he would notice if she just--

But no, she had only just talked her way into this hostel, she was determined not to be tossed out. She closed her eyes again, and tried to shift away from the uncomfortable spring.

Ten seconds later, her eyes flew open again. It was impossible to sleep on the chair. She looked back at the bed in front of her. Then she carefully got up, and put a hand on the sheets, which felt deliciously cool. His breath remained even and calm.

Inch by inch, Rachel lowered herself onto the bed, taking care to tuck herself, facing away from the occupant, as close to the edge as she could balance. She lay her head down on the bare mattress, which in comparison still felt luxurious. She would explain everything in the morning, and apologize, and pretend it was all a mistake. For now she needed to sleep.

***

Rachel woke up to a room still dark. A cranefly tapped on the mesh screen of the window. The four or five other bodies sleeping around the room were only perceptible by their soft breathing, and Rachel cast about for what had woken her. She slowly became aware that there was an unexpected weight against her chest. She tried to turn around, but then froze. It was an arm--a man's arm. Behind her she could feel the slight, perceptible warmth of his body; somehow, in his sleep, he had rolled over and his arm now drooped over her chest. She wondered if she could remove it without waking him, but imagined the conversation she would have with the confused half-asleep man whose bed she had invaded. She lay still.

Finally, when she was sure all was quiet, she began to inch herself away, letting his arm slide off her as naturally as she could manage. She had only made it an inch when he grunted slightly in his sleep, and scooped his arm around her, more forcefully this time, and pulled her into his chest. He was as strong as he looked, and she suddenly felt his bare chest against her back, his warm breath on her neck, and his relaxed but immovable arm holding her in place. Rachel held her breath for a moment, waiting for him to wake up, but when he didn't, she relaxed.

This would be a silly thing to laugh with a stranger about in the morning, she thought. She found herself oddly enjoying the touch of skin on skin. Her boyfriend had flown home two weeks ago to vacation with his family, and she hadn't experienced any touch since--just the odd text message complaining about his parents. In any other circumstance she would feel guilty for cuddling with a strange man, but this was different. Anyway, she could hardly help it without making a fuss. She might as well let it happen.

Then, the climber's fingers began to roam. At first it was just a graze over her skin, but then his long, confident fingers came to rest below her ribs, slid their way across her stomach, and walked their way up her breast. Rachel drew in her breath sharply as his fingers gently pulled down the light fabric of her bra, and his thumb and index finger found her nipple.

She craned her neck around to hear if he was awake. Maybe he had realized she was an interloper and was toying with her. But his breathing was still slow and muffled, and his body relaxed, only his hand casually straying over her body, and his firm forearm holding her in place. With slow consideration, his fingers rolled her nipple around in small circles, and then widened to scope her entire breast. Then he returned to the nipple, his thumb and middle finger grasping her while his index finger gently plucked the tip. It was such a practiced, skilled motion that Rachel was sure that his dreaming brain must have conjured some lover from his past, on whose imaginary body he was playing out an old habit.

But it also worked on Rachel. The slow, consistent flick on her nipple felt maddeningly pleasurable and frustrating at the same time. She felt her breath quicken, and she clasped her hands together between her thighs, wondering how long she would have to endure the teasing before he woke up, or she felt compelled to wake him.

His hand paused for a moment, but only to shift swiftly to her other breast, where he pulled down her bra and began to casually circle her other nipple. This was even more unbearable, having just felt him play with her other side. She hoped he would stop, roll over, and fall back into the deep sleep from which he had emerged--but also she half-hoped he would keep touching her. One or the other--anything but his finger gently teasing its way around her nipple. The tense anticipation of the motion was making her feel warm and impulsive. She was aware that her naked breasts now faced outwards, and if someone were to flick on the light, she would be exposed to a room full of strangers--not to mention having to explain what she was doing in one of their beds.

Rachel closed her eyes, tried to relax, and let her sleeping bedmate play with her breasts--she wasn't sure for how long--trying not to let her heightened breathing wake him up. After a minute, she realized to her own embarrassment that one of her hands between her thighs had instinctively nudged its way upwards, and she was rhythmically kneading herself through her underwear. She wondered about escaping from the bed, and sneaking off to the showers to get herself off, relieving her body of the unwanted tension, and then falling back asleep in the chair with all this behind her.

The sleeping man behind her grunted and shifted again, and his hand left her breast and traced her shoulder, then down her arm, following her wrist and hand towards--

"Wake up, wake up, wake up," she said in a harsh whisper, just loud enough, she hoped, to wake him without rousing everyone in the room. She didn't want to make a scene, but also enough was enough. He was a stranger, and she had a boyfriend, and she wasn't about to let him--

But instead of waking, he shifted his other arm free, and with one easy movement--as if swatting away the buzz of an annoying creature--he traced his hand under her throat, over her face, and two of his fingers were suddenly firmly in her mouth. She tasted his warm sweat on her tongue, and found herself unable to move or speak, beyond breathing heavily. At the same time, his free hand slid between her thighs and into her underwear, displacing where her compulsive fingers had been playing with her own clit.

His fingers slid exploratorily over the length of her pussy, gently parting her lips to expose a brimming pool of slick wetness that he brushed up over her clit. Then he continued to circle her clit with his thumb, while his long, dextrous middle finger slipped inside her, and stroked firmly inward and upward. His sleeping movements were confident, Rachel thought, like a violinist who instinctively plays minuets in his dreams. His grip on her mouth was so firm that she felt paralyzed, like a kitten caught by the scruff of the neck, and she helplessly let him finger her, lightly at first and then more deeply, until his palm lay flat between her legs.

She could not help, though, make one small movement--reflexively arching her back slightly towards him. Her ass pressed against him, and she could feel his cock push hard back against her through his thin trousers. The sensation seemed to awaken the rest of his body, and he began to rhythmically rock against her, rubbing his cock over her ass and up to where his fingers were playing with her under her underwear. She felt his breathing quicken as well, although without the startle or jerk that would signal he had awoken.

Rachel wondered if she could wake him by yelling, but the combined embarrassment at the idea of screaming in the quiet dormitory, the physical inhibition of his fingers on her tongue, and the overwhelming sensation inside of her, reduced any noise she made to a barely audible moan.

Anyway, she had lost her chance. His finger slipped out of her pussy, and pulled aside her underwear. Then his hand reached out in search of the band of his trousers, pulling them down to release his cock. His palm was now fully slick from her pussy, and as he guided his cock through his hand he naturally lubricated himself as he slid inside her. Rachel was not used to being fucked without a condom, and the warmth of his bare cock took her by surprise, as well as the ease with which he entered her.

His desire momentarily fulfilled, he seemed to fall into a deeper sleep, and his movements and breathing slowed to stillness--his one hand holding her mouth, his other gently cupping her pussy, and his cock resting deep inside her. Rachel could bear the stillness for only a moment before her hand, seemingly of its own volition, slid overtop of her underwear and over his hand, and she began to press his thumb once again into her clit. His fingers gently acquiesced, and the feeling of his hand pulsing into her brought her suddenly and unexpectedly to orgasm. She felt tears well up in her eyes, of pleasure and helplessness, as she came on his cock.

The repeated clench and release of her pussy brought him to life once again, and he was again rocking and thrusting inside her. She felt the need for more control, and she feverishly slipped her hand inside her underwear and guided his fingers against her clit with greater precision and firmness. He was breathing harder now, and his fingers slipped from her mouth and down to curl gently around her throat. She could have screamed or whispered or called out, but she no longer wanted to, even as she felt his bare cock plunge deep inside her, his hips press against her ass, and the ragged catch in his breath as he came inside her. His hands relaxed, but she continued to guide his slick middle finger against her clit until she came again, harder than the first time, feeling herself filled with his still-hard cock.

His arms were soft and gentle resting on her body now, and she heard his breathing once again become regular and deep. She could have slipped away immediately, but she let herself lie quietly in the heat of his body for what felt like half an hour, drifting in and out of a doze, before she silently extracted herself, tugged his rumpled sheet over his body, and returned to the armchair. She pulled on an oversized sweatshirt from her bag and threw it over her sweaty body, curled herself out of reach of the uncomfortable spring, and fell asleep.

***

Rachel woke to cool early-morning sunlight spilling through the window, and the sound of rustling and quiet footsteps. She opened her eyes. The dorm was still quiet, but the climber was awake and dressed, and finishing packing his bag. He looked around when he heard her shift.

"Oh hey," he said with a lopsided smile, but no sign of recognition, running a hand through his messy hair.

"Hey," Rachel said sleepily.

He stood staring at her for a moment, and then shook his head. "Sorry," he said, "weird dreams."

"Uh huh," Rachel said. She felt something warm and wet trickle down her thigh.

The climber finally seemed to take in Rachel's situation. "Oh, I guess you're looking for this," he said, sticking out a thumb at the bed. "Well, all yours." He gave her a broader smile, hefted his backpack, and was gone.

Rachel got up, and thought about heading straight to the shower, but instead she lay down on his bunk, pulled the sheet over herself, and went back to sleep.