I have to admit it is hard not to take advantage of his vulnerability at night. When he’s sleeping, sometimes his body takes over…and, whether it’s simply habit or the need that he’s subordinating during the day, his hands occasionally wander to my side of the bed and find my exposed skin.
I’m a light sleeper, and right now, I’m hyper-aware of his touch, anyway. So, when he does this, I usually wake up. I find my body moving toward his, my breath faltering a bit. And then my mind kicks in with all these thoughts.
It’s not what he wants…just roll over and go back to sleep.
Respect the space he’s asked for.
Help him when he cannot help himself.
And my heart jumps into the argument.
But he hasn’t touched me like this in days; maybe it’s what he really wants and needs and he just doesn’t want to seem weak by caving in and “going back to status quo.”
And now that I’m awake, sipping my coffee, I wondering if maybe I just think too fucking much and missed an opportunity.
I wore my underwear and a tank top last night. The same as the night before. Normally, I sleep naked, because that’s the way he likes it, but when shit really hits the fan between us, I wear full-on pajamas because I get cold when he isn’t wrapped around me like a second skin. I use clothing as a subtle message, too. When I wear something to bed, there’s a reason. When he put us in celibacy mode about a week and a half ago (because he feels it muddles things between us – and he’s trying to figure out where the hell this is all going with a clear head), I started wearing pajamas.
I got hot and sweaty the night before last, though, and took my p.j. bottoms off. At some point in the night, he touched me. Not for long…but enough for me to notice.
Last night, when I got ready for bed, with him in the room, I simply put on a tank top and panties. I got into bed, and he lay down next to me. He said he’d write to me, because he didn’t want to fight…and we seem to not be able to talk to each other lately without it turning into an argument. We’re both a bit fragile.
For some reason, I don’t remember him kissing me goodnight.
And then he went back to the TV.
I don’t know when he came to bed, but I do know that his fingers found the crease at the top of my thigh. I placed my hand on his, and he took it. He squeezed it, and I breathed in the touch like air through my skin.
I rolled over, and his hand rested on my ass. I moved my foot to rest against his calf.
I let it stay there, and I fell back to sleep.