As 6 AM rolled around, Sam lay sprawled on his back, feeling his heart rate and breathing slowly begin to ease back to normal speeds. Blaine was smiling up at him from where his head rested on Sam's chest and he chuckled.

Running a hand through Blaine's hair, Sam asked, "What's so funny?"

"I'm just glad I don't have class until noon," Blaine sighed, leaning into his caress.

With a grin, Sam teased, "What, power naps between rounds aren't enough?"

"Oh, I'm awake… Exhausted in a good way, but awake. I'm just in no rush to get out of bed or go anywhere you aren't going to be," Blaine murmured, pressing a kiss over Sam's heart.

Sam's arms tightened around Blaine for a moment and he said, "You've got two classes, right? I'll come with you, hang out in the commons so we can grab lunch between classes. I'm all yours till Monday."

"Good," he replied. "I need some Sam time."

Basking in the feeling of lying there with Blaine in his arms, Sam noticed the sunlight glinting off of his watch face and grinned. "Hey, I want to show you something," he said, reaching to unbuckle the thick leather band.

As he set the watch aside, Sam turned his wrist, a broad swath of pale skin contrasting with his tan. Blaine drew breath and reached out a shaking finger to stroke the word inked on the delicate skin of Sam's inner wrist.

Blaine

"This is my signature," he murmured. "You got my name, in my writing, tattooed on your arm?"

"Yeah," Sam whispered, kissing the side of his head. "I've been keeping it covered 'cuz I wanted you to see it first, not have some paparazzi get a shot of it was out jogging and spoil the surprise."

The paparazzi didn't really seem to know what to make of Sam. He got on drinking sprees, didn't smoke or sleep around and he was unfailingly nice to his fans. Sometimes photographers got pictures of him working out, drawing in a park somewhere or shopping at Whole Foods, but by media standards he wasn't particularly interesting.

They were far more fond of the celebrities who would stumble, drunk and stoned, out of nightclubs. Next of that, Sam's habit of finding a, book in any city he visited wasn't entertaining.

Still, as an openly bisexual man in a relationship with another man, he was something of a novelty in the country music world and it was usually someone with a camera trailing around, snapping pictures of his daily life. Last week, he'd stopped during his morning run to help an older couple change a tire. That had been all over the web within hours.

Wearing Blaine's name on his skin, that was for Blaine to see first. Well, after Sam and Wolf, the tattoo artist in Toronto. He'd worn longsleeved shirts for a while (not fun in the August heat) before he could comfortably wear the watch.

Blaine pressed a kiss right over the inked, then gazed up at Sam with a besotted smile. "I like it," he hummed. "I really, really like it. You have my name on you! My inner caveman is just…very moved."

"I can tell," Sam said cheekily, pressing his hip against Blaine's cock, which was trying to twitch back to life. Three times in six hours was a respectable number, but not quite their personal best. "Round 4?"

TBC…..