Always Us

olivia's favorite

"Did you sleep good?" she sighs as he thumbs over her taut nipple. He pinches down on it, and her body jerks slightly. There's a subtle buzz between her legs, and the slick—which started forming the moment she opened her eyes to the sight of him sleeping—duplicates.

He hums his confirmation, trailing his thumb down her torso. When he dips past her navel, her lower belly clenches in anticipation. He knew what she wanted. Because in twenty years, little has changed.

"Good," she murmurs, cupping a hand to his cheek. His eyes still droop with sleep, but the weight of him is hard and poking into the supple skin at her stomach.

The sunlight taps on her shoulder.

It's here.

Her favorite time of day.

And under the heat of his gaze, she can't resist the urge to meet his lips. They're soft and plush, and with two lingering kisses, they have the power to switch her teasing arousal into a full on need. A moan falls from her lips, and her head falls back as he kisses down her throat, sucking and nipping, before making their way back up to reclaim her bottom lip. When he slips from between their stomachs into the space between her upper thighs, she groans.

The sun is now warm on her back, and his heat pulses pleasantly along her slick. He rolls his hips back and forth, slowly coating himself in her dew. They rock like this for several moments.

"You want me or my fingers?" he finally murmurs. His hand rests on her hips, moving them slowly in tandem with his. The promise of an orgasm before is tempting, but with him pressed up against her, she knows what she wants.

"Okay, turn around," he says. She hadn't even answered, but her moment of hesitation had been enough. He's rolling her over before she has a chance to do it herself, and the blunt tip of his shaft presses against her opening unceremoniously.

Still, his entrance is gentle, nudging into the pressure with care. He stops once just the tip is in, and she doesn't complain. Slack jawed and eyes closed, she relaxes until he decides to venture further. When she stretches around his girth, a long mewl escapes her. He's only half way, and he starts to play, sliding himself halfway, then a quarter, another half, then just the tip. Her body has no clue what's coming next, and tiny pulses flutter over her thighs as each thrust stimulates a new part of her. She doesn't have it in her to beg. First thing in the morning, it all feels good.

Her inner thighs are glazed by the time his pelvis presses flush against her ass, and neither of them move as her walls pulsate around him, content in the fullness. Brushing her curls away, he runs his fingers along the back of her neck, eliciting a satisfied hum. He kisses her ear, her neck, her shoulder.

There's no rush. No plans on the horizon.

Sucked into the bliss, she isn't even sure which one of them starts it, but eventually, he drags himself out, holds for a second, and fills her again. By this time, the sun's rays are staring her straight in the eye. But she can't be bothered. The pressure is heavenly, so she throws her arm over her eyes and buries her face into her pillow. He feels so good, so very good, inside her.

His strokes stay slow, and her jaw falls open for a moan. Behind her, he whispers sweet satisfaction into her ear. During moments of silence, the intoxicating wet sounds fill the space.

It only takes a slight shift of her hips for him to nail the soft spot inside her. She whimpers at the new pressure, but it lasts for only a moment, before his dick slips out and slaps against her clit.

He chuckles at her whine. "Shh, I got you." Then a deep growl rolls through his body as she sucks him back in. Her body let him go once, but it wouldn't happen again.

"I—, I—," her words fall victim to his hand, sliding between her legs and lifting one leg into the air. Her thigh nestled in the crook of his elbow, his fingers find her clit. In this new position, the sunlight is balmy against her inner thighs, gleaming over his wet length every time he slides out. Her content sighs remind his hand to move, and the little bud pulses at his touch. Everything is perfect.

"You don't have to hold on, Liv," he groans.

But she does, breathing heavily as he thrusts rhythmically. His dick, so firm and stiff, picks up the pace. He's hitting her exactly where she needs, and she never, ever wants to let go. She can't. The sun is warm on her nipples, and his sweaty body grinds against her back. It all feels too good.

His nose digs into her neck and his grunts are hot against her skin. She's groaning into the pillow when the heat stirs inside her, sending warning signals up her pelvis.

"Liv," his voice is strained. "I'm gonna cum."

His strokes become frantic, and she's on cloud nine. Her muscles go loose, then rigid, then loose again as the spasms seize her body. He continues to rock into her, desperate for the thrust that'll push him over the edge. A rough one hits her inner wall, causing her to squirt, and her legs tremble wonderfully through the subsequent release.

The moment the hot fluid hits his length, he explodes.

By the time it's all over, she's ready to fall back asleep.

"We need to do this more often," Spencer exhales as he rolls back onto his back. There's a pool of sweat and other bodily fluids left in his spot, and Olivia does her best to skip over it in her chase to cuddle into him.

She knows what he's referring to is not morning sex, but what he means is securing time in an empty house. Because even in their toughest eras, Olivia never let morning sex slide. It may have been quiet or hurried, but it was always had. What Spencer wanted was them and the sacredness that came with knowing they didn't have to rush. He craved a different level of peace.

And Olivia understood. A couple years back, she had been so close to restoring that semblance of peace. Their biggest handfuls were no longer helpless toddlers, separation anxiety appeared to be a thing of the past, and full school days were in their near future. He was retired, and she had full control over her schedule. All that is to say, she knew what she was getting herself into by potentially renewing another eighteen-year contract at thirty-seven.

But ultimately, the decision came easy to her. With more than enough means and support, she couldn't resist one more go around with her best friend.

So for a few more years, they'd lean on the lessons they've collected in the past twenty years—doors can be locked, little kids can be sent away, and teenagers require gongs to wake them.

Perching her head on his chest, she offers a languid grin. Mornings had always been her favorite, but she knew somewhere along the way, she had converted him. "I know, baby. But don't worry." She closes her eyes and rests her head against his chest. "We'll find a way."

And at that, Spencer laughs. Because if nothing else, he knew his wife will.