It's not that Addison doesn't get the whole waiting thing, because she does. Building a foundation, understanding who they are as a couple before exploring who they are as lovers. It makes sense, and it was sort of what she was shooting for with Kevin way back when before she decided to throw the rules out the window and caution to the wind. She appreciates the fact that Sam is being so patient about everything. Given the fact that last time she climbed on his lap naked and promptly began sobbing into the crook of his neck, it makes sense that he would want her to be sure.

It's sweet. It's also making her incredibly horny.

They've taken steps forward. He's seen her naked, two, three times now? And while he's stripped down in front of her just once, she's also been living next to him long enough and seen enough early morning jogs to have a pretty firm idea of what he looks like shirtless. And they've taken to sleeping in the same beds, bodies curled up next to one another. She knows the feel of his arm around her waist, his breath on her neck, his palm on her stomach. A few days she's woken up before him, only to feel the growth of his morning condition unconsciously pressing into her back or thigh (and while Addison has been severely tempted to do something about that, waiting means waiting so she's resisted).

But it's been like, a month. About a year since they've first kissed, and nine months since the first kissed seriously, so what Addison really wants to do, crass as it may seen, is fuck waiting and just fuck. Also, she doesn't want to do that because it's Sam, and that's not what they should do (at least not at first).

Which is how she ends up on the bathroom floor, one hand toying with the buttons on her shirt, the other casually caressing the skin on her bare thigh.

Sam got paged for an emergency surgery right in the middle of their dinner of wine and candles and what was supposed to be foreplay. And cardio surgeries take a while so she should just cut her losses and jump into her flannel and look towards tomorrow, but she can't. She's horny, and on edge, and has a few hours to kill, and while she was planning to kill them with a bath, the tub reminded her of Sam, which reminded her of Sam naked, which reminded her of them naked together, which led her to sliding down the wall.

Addison loops the top button out of its hole, tugging the fabric of her dress shirt down over her bare shoulder. Then the second button, then the third, then she's running her fingers over her now bare chest, tracing the curve of her own breast (and imagining Sam on the couch tracing the curve of her breast, toying with her nipple, drawing it into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue and his teeth, sucking in and biting down). She's pulling on her own nipple furiously, rubbing over it with her thumb, grasping the full cup as her legs squirm on the tile and her other hand sneaks closer to the hem of her panties.

Because now she's thinking about how she was straddling him, feeling him grow against her, (and how if they hadn't stopped he would have grown harder, how she would have felt his full length, ready and eager, how she would have ground her hips against his, would have grabbed him and felt him throb in her palm),

And she pulls her underwear to the side, begins to explore her labia, circle her clit, press the tips of her fingers against her wet opening, (hadn't stopped, would have undone his jeans, pulled them down his legs along with briefs, would have lifted up her ass so he could yank down the material and her chest would have lifted up too, centimeters away from his face, felt his breath on her breastbone, and the sunk back down not onto his lap but onto him, circling him completely, her muscles clenching around him).

Addison breath is ragged now, uneven, and she screws her eyes shut and thrusts her pointer and middle finger deeper and deeper inside her, and though at first she's swirling her thumb around her clit, eventually she has to abandon that process because sometimes simple stimulation has nothing on penetration and she's working with what she has so she slips in a third finger and arches her back higher against the wall, bracing herself on the floor with her free hand. And yes, sex is better as a two-person game but Addison has always had particularly long fingers and excellent hand control, so fuck the showerhead, she always did her best work unaided.

She focuses on nothing else but the sensations building up in her center, running through her veins, the thudding of her heart, the steady beat of her muscles seizing around her fingers, the bursts of sensitivity that shake her core every time her nail flicks over her nipple, and Sam. Sam under her, kissing her, wrapped around her in the morning and the night, running his hands down her back, holding her hand, tasting her skin, and her heads is hitting the wall and her fingers, falling from her breast to clench the bathmat it falls onto.

And as she moans his name, painfully close to her release, her head is swimming with nothing but thoughts of him, so when she opens her eyes briefly, mid-gasp to see him kneeling in front of her, it's not surprising so much as it is welcome and about damn time. Addison reaches out the hand that's not obviously busy at the moment to pull on his neck, brining his lips to her. Sam kisses back, more frantically than ever before, plunging his tongue into her mouth before moving to kiss her jaw, her collarbone, between her breasts, running his hands up her bare thighs to her hips.

She's about to pull her hand away and let him take over but instead Sam grasps her wrist and helps her push deeper and harder inside, while he captures her lips and yanks away the remaining few buttons on her shirt, and it's not long before she's peaking on her first orgasm, the feeling rushing over her, a blessed relief, a dizzying combination of explosion and security now that he's here.

Sam's hand wraps around her waist and pulls her down to the ground before moving on top of her, his impressive physique spread over her. Addison's hands are fumbling with his shirt, happy just to get it open and around his shoulders, and his pants, and Sam's lips are everywhere, tasting every inch of available skin.

She's already so wet, wet enough that he can tell with one rub she's ready for him, so with a single thrust he's in her completely, filling her, entirely, or so she thinks until he thrusts again deeper and deeper and harder and deeper. Her hands are shaking, grabbing onto her shoulders, digging into his back, frantically pulling his face towards her so she can taste him mouth again. He's moaning her name over and over, Addison, Addison, and every time she's about to climax he changes his angle, his speed, and it builds up inside of her all over again, until every second is nothing but pleasure, and every touch is ecstasy, and it's not about the end or the release, it's about staying like this forever, just like this, with Sam's face in her neck and her foot on his thigh, until finally she can't take it anymore and screams his name and her relief and he lets go into her, her body rising up to meet the beat of his again and again.

By the time she can think straight again, he's turned the front of her body so it's pressed against his, planting short, sweet kisses up her jaw to her temple.

"That was," Sam mumbles against her ear, sending shivers down her bare back, causing her body to instinctively press closer to him, "the hottest thing, I've ever accidentally seen you doing."

"Surgery?" She questions sleepily, her mind dizzy and spinning.

"Rescheduled for tomorrow."

"Oh," Addison replies, running her hand down his chest, wrapping her fingers around his cock, and smiling as he lets out a guttural moan in her ear. Surgeons fingers really aren't much good without a body to work with. "Okay then."