Sleep pulled him deep, heavy and slow, like drifting into a warm tide.
Somewhere in the darkness, a pair of hands found him, brushing against skin, trailing along his chest, and running through his hair.
He murmured something wordless, caught between dreaming and waking. Was it a dream? He couldn't tell. Laughter, soft as breath, curled around his ears.
A body pressed against his side, lithe and warm.
It was like a feather. Light and daring.
Fingers traced idle patterns over him, exploring as if they knew him, or wished to.
Lips, perhaps, brushed his jaw. A sigh escaped him involuntarily.
The world tilted, and a gentle weight moved with him, surrounding him and drowning him in sensation.
Heat built, slow and inevitable, and somewhere far away, he thought he heard someone whisper his name, a murmur full of devotion or maybe hunger.
He spoke the name of someone dear to him.
