Xavier was deeply invested in his comic—some space adventure with dramatic plot twists—when he heard the telltale sound of his wife's excited footsteps approaching.
"Xavier!" Nana's voice was bright with mischief.
He looked up from his comic to find her standing in the living room doorway, bouncing on her toes, holding a cloth measuring tape. Her eyes sparkled with that particular gleam that meant she was up to something.
"Yes, starlight?" he asked cautiously, bookmarking his page.
"I need to measure something!" She held up the tape like a trophy.
Xavier relaxed slightly. "Okay. What do you need to measure? Canvas? That new bookshelf we ordered? The—"
"You."
He blinked. "Me?"
"Mm-hmm!" She bounced closer, and Xavier noticed the slight flush on her cheeks. "I want to measure... um... your size."
"My size." He looked down at himself. "I'm 185 centimeters tall. I could have just told you—"
"Not that size." Her eyes darted downward—very specifically downward—to his pants, then quickly back up to his face. Her cheeks turned pinker.
Xavier's brain short-circuited.
"You want to measure my..." He couldn't even finish the sentence.
She nodded enthusiastically, though her shyness was evident in the way she fidgeted with the measuring tape. "I'm just... curious? About the exact... specifications?"
"Specifications," he repeated faintly. His ears were starting to turn pink. "Like I'm a piece of furniture."
"Well, you are very useful furniture," she said with a nervous giggle. "Sturdy. Reliable. Good dimensions."
Xavier wanted to die of embarrassment.
"Starlight, you can't just—I mean—we don't need to measure—" He was stammering, which he never did. But his wife was standing there asking to measure his dick with a tape measure like it was the most normal request in the world.
"Please?" She employed her secret weapon—those big, pleading eyes that he could never resist. "I promise I'll be quick! And professional! Very scientific!"
"Scientific," he echoed weakly.
"Very scientific." She was trying so hard to look serious, but the excitement was practically radiating off her.
Xavier knew he was going to regret this. But looking at her face—so eager, so curious, so adorably mischievous—he couldn't say no.
"Fine," he sighed, setting his comic aside. "But you're explaining this to our future therapist."
"Yay!" She clapped her hands excitedly and immediately dropped to her knees in front of where he sat on the couch.
"At least you're enthusiastic about it," he muttered, his face burning as she reached for his belt.
"Very enthusiastic." She made quick work of his belt and zipper, her fingers trembling slightly with nervous excitement. "Okay, so I just... um..."
She pulled down his pants and boxers, and Xavier had to resist the urge to cover his face. He was already half-hard from the attention and anticipation, and under her focused gaze, he grew harder.
"Oh," she breathed, her eyes widening. "Oh wow."
"Don't say it like that," he groaned, covering his eyes with his hand. "You're making it worse."
"But it's impressive!" She carefully positioned the measuring tape, her small hands gentle and curious. When she saw the number, she gasped and actually clapped. "Xavier! This is amazing!"
"Please stop complimenting my—" He couldn't even say it. His ears were definitely pink now, probably his whole face too.
"But look!" She held up the measuring tape proudly, like she'd just won a prize. "I knew you were big but this is—"
"Starlight, I'm begging you to stop talking."
She giggled, clearly delighted by his embarrassment. "You're so cute when you're flustered. Usually you're so calm and collected."
"Usually my wife isn't measuring my dick like she's conducting a science experiment."
"A very successful science experiment." She carefully tucked him back into his pants, but not before pressing a kiss to his hip that made him shiver. "Thank you for letting me satisfy my curiosity."
"You're welcome. Now can we never speak of this again?"
"Mm, no promises." She settled beside him on the couch, snuggling into his side. "I might need to conduct follow-up measurements. For accuracy."
Xavier groaned and picked up his comic, trying to will away his blush. His wife was going to be the death of him.
But when she looked up at him with that satisfied, mischievous smile, he couldn't help but smile back.
She was worth every moment of embarrassment.
⭐⭐⭐
They'd gone to bed hours ago, both tired from their respective days. Xavier had fallen asleep easily, one arm wrapped around Nana's waist, pulling her close against his chest.
Everything was peaceful.
Until it wasn't.
Xavier woke slowly, awareness creeping in gradually. Something felt... off. Different.
Then he felt it—a small hand sliding down his chest, over his stomach, dipping lower...
His eyes opened to find Nana pressed against his side, her face peaceful in sleep. But her hand was very much awake, sliding into his sleep pants with clear intent.
"Starlight?" he murmured quietly.
No response. She was still asleep.
Her hand wrapped around him—his rapidly hardening cock—and squeezed gently.
"Mmm," she hummed contentedly, still sleeping. "Macaron..."
Xavier's eyebrows shot up. Not this again. He'd heard about this phenomenon—apparently some people dreamed about food and acted it out. But Nana?
"Pretty pink macaron," she mumbled, her thumb brushing over the sensitive head. "With white cream filling..."
Oh god.
Her hand started moving, stroking him with sleepy, exploratory touches. Xavier bit back a groan, his body responding immediately to her touch even as his brain tried to process the situation.
He should wake her up. Should stop this.
But when he opened his mouth to call her name, what came out was a barely suppressed moan as her grip tightened.
"Want to taste it," she murmured, and Xavier's control snapped.
A slow, dangerous smile spread across his face.
If his wife wanted to fondle him in her sleep while dreaming about macarons, then perhaps he should return the favor. Make her dream a little more... realistic.
His hand slid down her body, finding the hem of her sleep shirt and sliding beneath it. Her skin was warm, soft. He caressed her slowly, mapping the planes of her stomach, the curve of her ribs.
She made a small sound but didn't wake, her hand still moving on him.
His fingers trailed lower, finding the waistband of her sleep shorts. He paused, giving her a chance to wake up, to protest.
She just sighed contentedly and stroked him firmer.
Permission granted, then.
Xavier slipped his hand into her shorts, his fingers finding her already wet. Whether from dreams or unconscious arousal, he didn't know and didn't care. What mattered was that she was ready for him.
He circled her clit gently, and she whimpered—still asleep but responding to his touch.
"Xavier..." His name came out as a breathy whisper.
"I'm here, starlight," he murmured, even though he wasn't sure she could hear him. "I'm right here."
He worked her slowly, building her arousal while she continued to stroke him. It was surreal—both of them touching each other, but only one fully awake.
When she was gasping softly, her body arching into his touch, Xavier decided it was time.
He carefully removed her hand from his pants—she made a distressed sound, reaching for her "macaron"—and gently maneuvered her. She was still mostly asleep, pliant and trusting as he positioned her on top of him, straddling his hips.
Her eyes were closed, her breathing even, but her body responded when he pulled down her shorts just enough. She was soaking wet, and when he positioned himself at her entrance, she made a small, needy sound.
"Let's see if this is better than your dream," Xavier whispered, and slowly, carefully, he pushed inside.
She was tight and hot and perfect, and he had to grit his teeth to keep from groaning too loudly. He entered her inch by inch, watching her face for any sign of discomfort.
Her eyes fluttered but didn't open. Her lips parted on a silent gasp.
When he was fully seated inside her, he paused, letting her adjust. Then, slowly—so slowly—he began to move.
He lifted her hips gently, guiding her up and down on his cock in a lazy rhythm. Slow enough not to jar her awake, but deep enough to make her whimper.
"Xavier," she breathed, still half-asleep. "Feels good..."
"Yeah?" He kept his movements controlled, deliberate. "Better than macarons?"
"Mmm... yes..."
Her hands found his chest, bracing herself instinctively even in her half-asleep state. She was starting to move with him now, her hips rolling in that way that told him she was waking up but still caught in that space between sleep and consciousness.
Xavier's hands roamed her body—caressing her thighs, her waist, sliding under her shirt to cup her breasts. Each touch pulled more sounds from her, sweet little whimpers that went straight to his cock.
"That's it, starlight," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "Take what you need. Even in your sleep, you know what you want."
Her movements became less coordinated, more desperate. She was definitely more awake now, her breathing quickening, small gasps escaping with each movement.
"Xavier?" Her voice was confused, hazy. "What—oh—"
Her eyes finally opened, finding him beneath her in the moonlit bedroom. For a moment, she looked completely disoriented—then awareness hit. She was straddling him, he was buried deep inside her, and they were both very much naked from the waist down.
"Good morning," Xavier said with a lazy smile. "Or good middle-of-the-night, I suppose."
"What—when did—how—" Her questions dissolved into a moan as he thrust up, hitting deep.
"You were dreaming about macarons again," he explained calmly, as if they were discussing the weather and not actively having sex. "And your hand wandered. I decided to make your dream a reality."
"I was—oh god—I was grabbing you again?"
"You were. Very enthusiastically." His hands gripped her hips, guiding her movements. "Called my cock a pretty pink macaron with cream filling. I couldn't resist after that."
"I'm so sorry—ah!—I didn't mean to—"
"Don't apologize." He sat up, pulling her close so her chest pressed against his. "I quite enjoyed being molested in my sleep. Thought I'd return the favor."
He kissed her deeply, swallowing her moans as he began to move with more purpose. The slow, sleepy pace was gone, replaced by something more urgent.
"How long have we been—" she gasped.
"About ten minutes. I was trying not to wake you." His hands slid to her ass, squeezing as he guided her movements. "Wanted to see if I could make you come while you were still half-asleep."
"That's—that's—" She couldn't finish the thought as pleasure built rapidly.
"Devious? Calculated? Incredibly hot?" He bit down on her neck, and she cried out. "All of the above?"
"Yes—all—Xavier!"
He could feel her tensing, her body coiling tight as she approached the edge. His hand slid between them, finding her clit and circling it firmly.
"Come for me, starlight. Show me which you prefer—dream macarons or my cock."
That pushed her over. She came with a strangled cry, clenching around him so hard he saw stars. The sensation was overwhelming, and Xavier followed her over the edge with a groan, spilling inside her.
They collapsed together, both breathing hard. Nana was still trembling slightly, aftershocks rolling through her as Xavier held her close.
"I can't believe," she said after a long moment, "that I keep sexually assaulting you in my sleep while dreaming about pastries."
Xavier laughed—a real, genuine laugh that shook his chest. "I can't believe I keep letting it happen. Though to be fair, I did more than let it happen this time."
"You had sex with me while I was half-asleep!"
"You started it with the sleep-groping." He pressed a kiss to her temple. "I just finished it. Besides, you seemed to enjoy it."
"I did," she admitted, blushing. "It was... different. Good different. Like waking up to the best surprise ever."
"Note to self: wife enjoys half-asleep sex." He smirked. "This information will be filed away for future reference."
"Xavier!"
"What? You're the one who keeps fondling me in your sleep. I'm just adapting to my circumstances."
She swatted his chest playfully, but she was smiling. "For the record, you're definitely better than any macaron. Dream or real."
"I should hope so. Though I have to admit, your subconscious has good taste. Comparing me to fancy pastries."
"My subconscious is apparently very food-motivated."
"And I'm very motivated by you." He shifted them so they were lying side by side, still joined. "Even when you're unconsciously molesting me. Especially then."
"I really need to stop dreaming about food."
"Or you could keep dreaming about food and let your hands wander. I'm not complaining." He pulled the blanket over them both. "Though maybe we should invest in those pink macarons you keep dreaming about. See if they live up to the hype."
"Pretty sure nothing could live up to..." She gestured vaguely at where they were still connected. "This."
"Flattering. My ego thanks you." He kissed her softly. "Now sleep. And if you have any more pastry dreams, try to keep your hands to yourself. I need to recover."
"No promises," she mumbled, already drifting off.
Xavier smiled in the darkness, holding his wife close.
She measured him with a tape measure. She fondled him in her sleep while dreaming about macarons. She was chaos wrapped in a small, adorable package.
And he wouldn't change a single thing.
Well, maybe he'd hide the measuring tape.
But everything else was perfect.
⭐⭐⭐