This is the Sam and Tara plot line we all wanted in Season One. Takes place a few weeks after they've started things. I'll likely not follow the plot of the rest of the season, at least, not in regards to Sam and Tara's lives, in order to properly tell my story. Enjoy :)

Chapter One

I want to tell Sam to stay, but I know I can't. We've fallen into this comfortable sort of- well, fuck- it wasn't comfortable at all really. But anyway, we'd fallen into an agreement of sorts. Fuck and then leave. That's how it had been for the past two weeks, that's the way it'd always be.

He pushed inside me once more, grabbing my hips tightly and pulling me flush against him. His head bowed into the nook of my neck and I let out a content sigh as he came. I felt my own muscles tightening as he moved his face and kissed my jaw line; his scratchy stubble felt familiar against my skin- I loved the feeling.

"Sam," I whispered into the night, just as I felt my own resolve melting. My body tensed for a few blissful moments, and then I came too; my legs thrashed violently around him before I collapsed back into the bed.

Sam slid out of me, but stayed on top of me- his firm, sturdy body pressed against mine, and I welcomed the feeling. It made me feel…safe.

This was different than we usually did things, though. Usually, Sam would slide out, roll over, get dressed, get out. Not that I was any different. When we fucked at his place, I was the same. My panties would still be damp as I skirted out of the Merlotte's parking lot. As I figured, as we both figured, or at least I assumed- the less emotion involved, the better it would be to keep this light and easy. No mess, no complications. Neither of us needed any more mess or complications in our already fucked up lives.

But tonight, tonight something was different. Sam was still on top of me, though he shifted his weight slightly so I could breath easily. His hands were at the sides of my face, and he was kissing my clavicle, licking along the thin skin there in a slow, sensual way. We never did slow or sensual. It was always fast, and rough. What was he doing?

He felt me tense beneath him and he looked at me with an earnest expression, all puppy dog eyes. "Is this okay?" he asked quietly, his voice still ragged and husky from just having sex.

"I- yeah, it's okay I guess," I said slowly. My guard was slipping, because what I really wanted to say was, "Don't stop," and then pull him inside me again. But I couldn't do that. We didn't do that.

Sam sighed softly, and it was apparent that the moment had passed. He removed his hands from my face and rolled off of me, promptly sitting on the side of the bed and running his hands through his sandy hair in frustration.

I let out a shaky laugh. "Why'd you do that, Sam?"

"Why'd I do what?" he snapped, and turned to look at me. The expression on his face was one I definitely did not expect- angry, eyes piercing and grey. "Why'd I try to make things romantic for once? Fuck, Tara, I don't know. You tell me. It's obviously a waste of my time." He turned back around and stared at my nightstand.

I pulled the sheets around my naked body, suddenly self conscious. Scooted over to where he was sitting and touched his shoulder lightly. He didn't look back up at me, but I spoke anyway. "Sam," I said hesitantly. "Don't be that way."

"Be what way, Tara?" he said, and he yanked out of my grasp. He stood up and stared at me on the bed, and he looked completely revolted. "I don't know what the hell you want."

My guard had been down, but it was firmly back in place now. "Well, fuck you too, Sam. I don't know what the fuck you want either. I thought this was what you wanted. We're fuck buddies, aren't we?"

Sam was pulling on his jeans with almost vampire-speed. He was pissed. So was I. I let the sheet fall around my waist and crossed my arms, staring at him sullenly from the middle of my hotel bed.

"Is that all this is to you, Tara? Fuck buddies?" He roughly pulled his shirt over his head, leaving his hair ruffled.

I glared at him. "Yup. That's all it is to me."

"Fine," he said, and grabbed his car keys, which had been thrown to the ground in our haste to get to the bed. "See you at work tomorrow."

"See you at work tomorrow, Sam," I spit out his name so he'd know I was just as pissed, and he gave me one more fleeting glance before yanking open the door and stalking out into the night. The door slammed shut behind him and I jumped in spite of myself.

I wrapped the sheet around myself quickly and rushed over to the window. I pulled the curtain back slightly and watched as Sam kicked his car door with an angry expression and then got in and pulled away.

We had an agreement. It would never be more. Even if I wanted it to be more, it couldn't. Fuck, I didn't have anything to offer him. I couldn't take him down with me. Didn't he see that? I could see it clear as day. Why was Sam so naïve? There could never be more between us.