Sleep Talking — Hadrian (mature) (Patreon)

It started slow.

Almost unintentionally so. Sunlight filters through the window of your bed chambers, resting like a warm blanket on top of your skin. The afternoon is painted in orange, the kind that softens your muscles and makes your eyelids grow heavy. You tilt your chin towards the ceiling, soaking the warmth like a cat on a windowsill, and your lips curl with the quiet satisfaction of life's simple pleasures.

You have no obligations to meet, and no duties to attend to. You're resting on your bed, the mattress hugging you like the ghost of your mother's arms, and your fingers absently play with thick strands of brown hair.

"Hmm." A low, satisfied groan has your smile widening and your head rolling on your pillow so you can watch him. Hadrian sleeps beside you, tall form sprawled to the four corners. One of his legs is thrown over your thigh and the palm that was once cradling your nape rests forgotten above your head now. His mouth is half-opened so that you're pretty sure he's drooling a bit, and it's so ridiculous, but here is your smile, turning fond.

You bury your fingers in his scalp, lightly scratching the skin from his hairline all the way to the back of his neck. Hadrian curls his spine as you go, moaning from deep in his chest again, and part of you suspects he's not sleeping any longer.

Your nails go up past his ear, curling the smaller hairs between your fingers before you return your hand to the top of his head. Brushing away the hair from his forehead, you catch a glint of green in one of his eyes before Hadrian has time to close it.

Your lips twitch. "This good?" you ask, playing with his mane of unruly hair.

"Hmm," Hadrian groans again, tilting his head so you can scratch him deeper. "If I answer, does that mean you'll stop?"

You tap his temple, then drag your fingers to the side of his head. "I was planning on doing this until you woke up," you say.

"Oh, then I'm fast asleep." You see him closing his eyes even tighter, and then try to hide his smile at your chuckle. "I've been told I talk in my sleep. My brothers at the monastery had to ask the abbot for a separate room."

You lightly pull on his hair, and his mouth closes in bliss. "Really?" you ask, mirth in your tone.

Hadrian licks his lips, composing himself, and then nods. "There weren't any more spare rooms, you see, so the abbot sent me to sleep with the donkeys."

You laugh now, curling closer to him on the bed. Your faces come near until you can feel his breath on your skin, but his eyes are still stubbornly closed. "And how was that?" you ask.

Hadrian gives a half-shrug. "Oh, it wasn't as bad as you think," he says. His leg on top of your thigh rises until he's straddling your hip, and his hand is back on your face, fingers gentle on your cheek. You smile and know he knows you do because his thumb is tracing your lower lip. "But it didn't really solve the problem. I still talked in my sleep, and it didn't take them long to notice how all the donkeys were exhausted during the day. So-"

You bite your lip, already anticipating some absurd joke. "So?" you press when he stays silent. Hadrian's other arm goes behind your back, and he gently pulls you to him. You go willingly, your chest melting against his chest, but even as his lips press a gentle kiss to the side of your mouth, you never stop playing with his hair.

"So, sweet dream," Hadrian whispers, his lips brushing yours, his hand firm on your waist. A shiver down your spine has you trapping his leg between yours, your thighs enveloping his as heat starts to build in your core. "So —"

You tentatively grind against him.

"Lord." Hadrian swallows hard, his fingers on your cheek shake, and you bite your lip at the sound. You want to hear him say your name with that same voice, rougher and darker than before.

"So, Hadrian?" you say, both your hands on either side of his head. You brush his hair to the sides, caresses sweet and gentle, and fight the urge to just pull him to you. Not yet. He started this, after all. "How did they solve your sleeping problem?"

Hadrian takes a deep breath, and you think he cracks one eye open for just a moment, but then he closes it again. "Very simple," he says. His fingers tighten on your hip, and you know he wants to make it roll again, but he doesn't. "They, uh. They covered my mouth with a cloth."

You raise an eyebrow. "That's it?"

Hadrian nods, his face growing red. "I'm sleeping, remember? You have to lower your expectations when it comes to made-up stories."

You tilt your chin, laughing quietly. Hadrian takes advantage to lean forward and glue his lips to the hollow of your throat. He kisses it, slowly, his tongue rolling, before he moves up the side of your neck.

Heat builds between you, heat that has you gripping his hair and tugging him flush to you. "You're still sleeping, are you?"

"Can't you see my closed eyes, love?" Hadrian mutters. His stubble tickles you, but his lips soothe the spot right after. He presses quick, light kisses until he gets to the corner of your jaw, and it's your turn to moan when Hadrian opens his mouth to suckle on the skin.

"I— I can't, actually," you breathe out, your heart hammering against the pulse point Hadrian is worshiping. His hand on your hip is still no more. It guides you, insistent, as you roll against him, straddling his thigh and igniting your senses. Back and forth, back and forth. His other hand is tight on your nape, and your arms go around his broad shoulders when Hadrian half-rises from the bed to loom above you.

You feel him kiss your chin next, and just as he lifts his face to seek your lips—

"So, I'll just take your word for it." You turn your head just in time for his kiss to fall on your cheekbone. Moving with a speed you didn't think you were capable of; you disentangle yourself from him and leap from the bed.

"What—"

His confused tone has you smirking. You walk towards the divider in the room that hides the bathtub behind. "While you sleep," you say to the air, purposely swaying your hips as you slowly lift your shirt above your head. You start to loosen your pants when you pause beside the divider and look over your bare shoulder.

Hadrian's wide eyes are there to greet you. He's half seated on the bed, his chest heaving, his face beet red, and his hair sticking out in all directions. You're smirking, but your chest warms with that fondness again. "I'll be taking a nice, long bath. Hopefully, my lover will wake up and join me."

You turn away again as you slip out of your pants. "But who knows? It seems he likes to babble nonsense instead" you say, stepping behind the divider.

And you laugh, then, loud and clear when from behind, you hear him scramble forward and fall to the ground. "I'm awake!" Hadrian shouts, his rushed steps slamming against the hardwood floor.

"I'm awake," he whispers beside your ear as his arms go around you, trapping you flush to him, his chin resting on the crook of your neck. And it's your turn to close your eyes when his fingers gently turn your head so that his lips can finally meet yours.