The first thing Lance registered was the heat. A solid, relentless warmth wrapped around him from behind, pressing along the length of his body.
The second was the hard, insistent ridge nestled firmly against the cleft of his ass, moving in a slow, possessive grind.
Oh.
He was awake instantly, his breath catching.
Ansel's arm was a steel band across his chest, holding him flush, and his face was buried in the nape of Lance's neck, teeth grazing the skin there in a lazy, waking bite.
He guessed they were going to do it this morning.
The thought was less a guess and more a certainty that vibrated through his bones.
Lance felt his body respond, a traitorous heat pooling low in his belly even as his mind whispered a faint protest.
Ansel's mouth moved from a nibble to a slow, open-mouthed kiss against his pulse point.
His hips rocked forward again, a deliberate, filthy drag of his clothed erection against Lance's thin sleep shorts.
