Sam I Am Contest Entry
Afternoon Delight
Authored by Hearttorn
Beta'ed by Vikingloverelle
Canon
I watch the afternoon sun stream in through the half-open shades that adorn the windows along the front of my bar. The long wall faces the west, so it gets the full blast of the Louisiana summer sun. The Southern heat sure does raise the air conditioning bill, but the lighting bill is lower since I don't need to turn on lights until about six o'clock – just let the good ole sun stream in.
I didn't use to love the sun like I do now. Sure, I always enjoyed it in a nice, 'in the background' sort of way, but now it's become a real focal point in my life. The past, oh, five or six years, I've come to love the sun more and more. Even since she started working here.
The sunlight bounces off her hair, always caught up in a high ponytail. I watch it turn a lighter shade of blonde as the summer goes on. The sun kisses her skin, conversely turning it darker and darker as the time slips towards fall. It warms her tightly hugging white uniform t-shirt until she almost glows. I know she prefers the dinner shifts – better tips – but I love to have her work lunches, just to watch her in the sunlight. She looks like an angel.
I've really gained a new appreciation for light, sun, luminance in the last two years. Now, since they came out, its only during the daytime that she's still mine. I watch her; I protect her. When she glides behind the bar, smelling of lemongrass, her warm body passes so effortlessly around mine. We've danced this dance a long time, she and I, so long that it's become unconscious, we no longer think about it. So at ease, we can finish each other's sentences, hand each other what we are reaching for without having to ask. To me, that's perfection; to her, it's a sibling-like comfort level.
I should've done something, said something before the vamps came out. I knew she was different; heck, everyone in town knows she's different. She's pretty good at covering it up, but I've made studying her an art, and she can't hide from me. I saw through her pretty fast. She can't read me very well, but she didn't know why for a long time-until it was too late, and I had missed my chance.
The sun slips behind the horizon, going to bed for the day, and that's their cue to wake for the night. I don't have to look, I can smell it when just minutes later the Sheriff saunters through the door of my bar. Her head turns just as I begin to sniff him in the air, the peculiar dry scent of vamp, because she can sense him, too (because of his damned, controlling blood bond).
I can feel the anger start to swell in me, growing from deep down inside. To try and calm myself, I start washing glasses and to replay the daydream that's begun to occupy more and more of my thoughts…
It starts with the vamps using her for her talent. The request will begin simply enough, but it will end, as it inevitably does, in bloodshed. Something will happen, and the High and Mighty Sheriff (and probably his Stylish Second and the Devoted Southern Gentleman, as well) will be unable to protect her, so she will be hurt.
She'll call me, because when have I ever let her down? Never. Not once. But I'll come to her rescue, and take her back to my trailer to tend to her wounds. Just as we arrive, the Sheriff will swoop down in the parking lot to try and take her back from me and be the Conquering Hero after all. But this time, he won't just be dealing with good ole Dean.
The magic will swell in me and I'll shift into a viper. Both of us, fangs extended, will circle each other. Quicker than even he can track, I'll strike and remove his so-called "Gracious Plenty." (I have Supe hearing, too, you know. I can't help it if I overhear her on the phone.)
Actually, scratch that. As pleasant an idea as emasculating him is, that's just gross.
Um, so I'll shift into a lion and use a giant paw to do the job. That's a…much more acceptable thought. It's not deadly, but demoralizing, and it's not as, er…gay (not that there's anything wrong with that) for me. She'll be upset, but she doesn't know that I'm not so "ungracious" myself, har har.
But back to my fantasy – still a lion, while he's bent over, bleeding, I'll grab an arm in my giant jaws and rip it from his body. I'll head-butt him with my massive skull, crushing a few ribs for good measure.
Oh, I'm sure he will recover quickly and get some good hits in himself – he is, after all, a famed warrior. But I will shift faster than I have ever shifted before, keeping him off guard, and eventually, he will be nothing but a pile of ash and a black tank top.
Suddenly, she will be free of him and his control. I will be standing there before her, naked, victorious and proud. She'll finally see me for who I am and what I am – a man who loves her, would fight to the death for her; a shifter, unique among Supes; and, as I may have mentioned earlier, fairly graciously endowed.
From her gaze, it will be obvious that she's more than intrigued. Her eyes will roam from the top of my reddish gold tousled hair, even more rumpled from battle, down to my eyes, locked on her. From there, they will take in my sculpted chest, sprinkled with red-gold hair as well, down to my narrow hips with their defined "V" of muscle. Her cheeks will blush, but her eyes will continue determinedly on their course. When she reaches it, her breath will rush swiftly into her lungs in shock, her eyes dilate with want, and her soft berry mouth will fall open in a surprised "oh" of pleasure.
She'll lick those soft berry lips, and the words I've waited to hear for so long will tumble out, rushed. "Sam, I…I never knew you…you were so…strong and…powerful…and I…I just…I just need to…I need…I need you." Her gaze suddenly turns shy, her eyes soft and doe like, she will look up at me bashfully.
In an instant, I'll bridge the gap between us and finally take her in my arms, crushing my mouth down on hers, tasting the sweetness I've dreamed of since the night of our one innocent kiss. My tongue will dance with hers; our mouths will mirror what our bodies will soon do.
I know exactly what I want to happen next, and I can't think of a more appropriate location than the spot sitting just next to us. I lift her up, my strong arms under her bottom, and she wraps her tan legs around my waist. I carry her across the parking lot and set her on the hood of the Sheriff's red Corvette. Oh, revenge is sweet indeed!
She is laid out like an offering, looking at me with hooded eyes. I reach out and slowly unbutton the front of her little sundress and slide it off her body, then just as slowly remove her bra and panties. She's silent, chest heaving with want, watching me with large eyes.
My hands trace the topography of her body, comparing the reality with the image in my mind and finding it incomparably better, softer, richer. I kiss her again, sweetly, then with increasing ardor, until she breaks away and breathlessly begs, "Please, Sam… please!"
Sliding between her legs, I find Mecca. Nirvana. Heaven. Valhalla. (I chuckle every time I think of that one.) It is everything I've ever wanted, ever dreamed, ever hoped, and yet more still. I hold out as long as I can, as long as I ever have, but still it is over all too quickly. We lie there, both sated, wrapped in each other, on the hood of the Sheriff's car, staring at the stars, awaiting our first dawn together.
The magic of this dream is so strong, the imagery so vivid that I can feel myself start to growl with want. The air around me begins to shimmer as I start to shift. Suddenly I hear an answering growl, and a question.
"Problem, shifter?"
I snap back to reality with a start, and the shift stops. I've been wiping the same glass for who knows how long, and the Sheriff is looking at me with a curious smirk on his face. I take a deep breath and gather myself, then answer.
"Nope, no problem at all."
