It's your fourth date; dinner wasn't anything fancy, just homemade pizza and craft beer. You almost forget how funny Sam is or maybe it's just schoolgirl giddiness making you giggle at everything he says, but the details don't certain you. As the night wears on, you find yourself nestled into his side with a full belly in front of a fireplace.
You're both seated on the floor, leaning back against his ratty couch that was new back when his parents first moved to the island. There's a creeping intimacy as his long legs sprawl out, his bare feet outstretched toward the fire. Sam's talking but all you can focus on is his hand resting on your knee; well, just above your knee. He's inching into thigh territory.
His face is animated as he talks about some woman Dean's met...or maybe he's talking about Sully. You're only concern is watching the wrinkles about his eyes bunch up as he smiles and his free waving through the air, becoming increasingly animated.
"Can you believe that?" He finishes, shaking his head in apparent disbelief.
"No," you nod in an attempt to cover your ass. "Can't believe it."
"He's out of control sometimes but he always has my back." You can see the switch in his brain when his focus tapers to you. Like a hawk spotting a field mouse, his expression narrows as the hand on your leg slides a little higher, his whole body shifting closer. "I'm talking too much."
"I like listening to you."
"I guess I've got a lot of pent-up shit agitating in here." He motions toward his temple and then brings the same hand to your face, sweeping a lock of hair across your cheek before tucking it behind your ear. Turning your hand into his palm, you look to him and he's staring right back. His eyes lock onto yours.
Maybe it's the wine or maybe it's the almost two decades of restrained desire, but you're feeling bold.
"If I sleep with you on our fourth date does that make me easy?" The questions rolls off your tongue like the most casual question in the world.
He pulls back with a grimace and replies deadpan. "Who said I want to sleep with you?"
Your heart jumps into your throat in the time it takes for a wide smile to spread across his face.
"Asshole," you playfully slap his shoulder as he chuckles, pleased with himself.
"I want whatever you want." Sam tips his head, setting down his beer. "We can take things slow. I don't mind."
"I want you to touch me," you whisper, interrupting his feeble search for excuses not to do what you both want. Your hand lazily drifts under his shirt to skim over the warm, bare skin of his abdomen, grinning as his stomach jumps under your touch. "I've been waiting a long time for you to make your move, ever since we were at that fair in seventh grade and you-"
He kisses you, quite possibly just to shut you up, but you don't mind.
His hand cups the side of your head, long fingers gentle as he hold you still for the sweet forage of his tongue in your mouth; dipping, swirling, tasting. Heat spreads fast in your belly, stoked hot by the slow rhythmic stroke of his tongue that does a wonderfully accurate job of mimicking another penetration.
You pull apart just as abruptly as you come together. Sam's panting, his face painfully serious, lips rosy and eyes locked on you. The silence of the moment is so loud you swear you can hear the blood rushing through your veins.
"We should go upstairs, to my bed." He stands before you have a chance to protest, pulling you with him.
"I don't mind it right here," standing on your toes you kiss him again, knees feeling weak when his arms wrap around your torso. One hand ghosts over your lower back as he cups your bottom, squeezing a cheek with a thrillingly large hand.
"I'm not making love to you on my couch," Sam chuckles against your lips. "It still smells like the dog we had when I was a kid."
"Jackson?" You question as his mouth travel down your jaw. He's shuffling toward the stairs, hands and mouths everywhere as you stumble.
"Yeah, Jackson" he laughs into your mouth, " come on." He takes your hand, leading you up the stairs.
He flips on the light in this bedroom and then you're ripping each other's clothes off with a savgery that allows no consideration for things like seams or buttons. One of your socks ends up in the corner behind an arm chair, perhaps never to be seen again. It's a mad race to get the other naked first.
Sam's lips don't leave yours, somewhat hampering your removal of his clothing. Your kisses are greedier each time your mouths meet. Sam removes your bra with nibble fingers, tossing it undermousliy into the air where is lands perched on the corner of his television. It seems like a lifetime, but then his large, perfect hands are covering your breasts, kneading and stroking and plucking already erect nipples. The heat in your belly turns to wetness between your legs as you breath goes choppy.
His plaid shirt is lost in the first wave, followed by the difficult removal of his undershirt. He's impossibly tall and and in no frame of mind to help you disrobe him while he's in the midst of his own mission. When he's finally undressed, you decide that he deserves more of your attention, pushing him over so that he lands on his back across the bed. Climbing over him, you straddle his hips and take your time running fingers over the hard muscles of his chest, then down his abs. You lean forward, running the flat of your tongue over one of his small nipples before venturing upward to his broad shoulders, nipping at the ball of the left one.
You stop and slide off him. Sam props himself up on his elbows to watch you tug your jeans down, panties going right along with them. He doesn't look away, licking his lips as you crawl back onto the bed and reach for his zipper.
"You're so beautiful," he confesses, his voice low.
"So are you." You fingers work his zipper down and over the bulge, all while nibbling across the taught skin of his belly.
"Are you sure about this?" He asks hesitantly.
"Shut up Sam," you quip, reaching past the zipper to cup him as you lunge forward, kissing him hard on the mouth.
Sam does as he's told, lifting his hips to help you shimmy denim down his long legs.
He is, just as you suspected, big all over. Standing at the edge of the bed, you yank his jeans off both feet, admiring his cock that's bobbing straight up between his spread legs. His cheeks are flushed with arousal as he watches you, making no attempt to take control his blatant lust. Starting at his ankles, you scrap your nails along the hair on his legs, grinning as his shivers. Reaching his erection you skip to his sides, climbing back onto the bed with him.
"You have been drinking," he offers, part of him waiting for this to end. He's wanted this for so long; it seems too good to be true.
Climbing on him, you let your breasts brush every part of his long body. Reaching his head, you lean down and suck his lower lip into your mouth.
"You just can't help yourself, can you?" You murmur against his lips. Feeling his cock brush against your lower back makes you smile. "I want you to fuck me when I'm sober, too. Stop thinking so much."
That does the trick, you feel him relax, his kisses more insistent.
To show him just how serious you are about wanting him, you scoot back down and suck him into your mouth without so much as a stroke. Sam yelps in pleasure, his back arching off the bed. You don't stop there. His hoarse moans only fuel your desire as you pump the base his cock with your fingers into a hot and waiting mouth. Summoning every ounce of skill, you use your tongue to circle and flick the sensitive head, giving in occasionally to his rasping demands for a long, hard suck that have Sam twisting the bed sheets in his fist as he fights off his own climax.
You're utterly enchanted. Practically in love.
Sam is super responsive and you love his reaction everytime you drag the flat of your tongue over the flushed head of his cock. Every lick and suck has him writhing and twisting and all because of your efforts. Jesus, it's an unbelievable rush. An hour ago you were lost in one of his stories and now he's at your mercy. It's an incredible aphrodisiac. He's barely touched you and you're already wet and throbbing and desperate to be filled.
Right on cue Sam lunges, fisting a hand in your hair and pulling you into a kiss that draws a moan from you chest. Before you have the chance to rally your senses and regain control, you're under him. Caged by the same strong, impressive body that you were just appreciating.
He kisses you senseless, hardly giving you time to take a breath before claiming your mouth again. When he sure that you aren't going to try and wrestle back control he slides to the side, hooking your nearest leg over his knee to keep you spread and exposed. Then his long, clever fingers start exploring your slick, swollen folds. Helpless to stop yourself, you undulate under his hand, fingernails digging into his shoulders as you beg for one those fingers to fill you.
Sam does better.
He pushes two fingers inside you. Now it's your turn to arch your back, swamped by a shockingly strong burst of pleasure that draws a long, wailing mew from you. It doesn't take long for you to teeter on the edge of your climax. Just when you think you can't take anymore, Sam slides down and settle between your thighs. The combination of the sight of his head down there and his mouth sucking your clit is more than enough. You come with his name on your lips as he laps up everything you've got to give.
He doesn't even give you a chance to recover before he's crawling back up your damp, panting body. He clamps his lips around a nipple and sucks so hard you scream. You're body reacting as if it hasn't just exploded, streaks of pleasure and pain shoot from your breast to your pussy. Using his teeth to tug, and tongue to swirl, he fans a flame that hasn't yet had the chance to die out. You drag him back up to you, kissing him like your life depends it, teeth clicking together.
Instead of being hard to bring to climax, you find yourself constantly hovering on the brink, as if the last peak hadn't reached it final plateau. Sam's heavy on top of you and you love it, raising you legs and wrapping them around his waist.
"Fuck me!" you demand, nipping at his ear lobe.
Sam jerks back from the sharp sting and your eyes meet. Through soaring lust you understand the reason you've been so drawn to him all these years. Every vestige of softness has been driven from his face. The man who was so concerned about your explicit consent is nowhere to be found. Under the frame of dark, sweat-dampened hair, Sam's face is set and nostrils flaring.
With an ease that has your belly swooping, Sam lifts you both off the mattress, keeping you locked to him with one strong arm around your back and a giant hand played across you ass. You loop your arms around his shoulders and cling to him. He rams you down, flexing his hips in a heavy surge at the same time, driving himself into you to the hilt.
Dimly, in some small portion of your brain not fizzing over with dizzy gratification, you're aware that you've never felt so stretched or so full. Even that fading through is winked out as Sam starts to flex his hips in earnest, using his hand on your waist to help slide you up and down on his cock. You moan in delight, wrapping your legs tighter around him, this time to help anchor yourself. Secure, you lean back on your palms, giving Sam a pornographic view and maximising the position for your own pleasure.
He takes advantage of the easy access to your body. The feeling of his sweeping calloused palm and hot, wet mouth on your breasts do wonderfully indecent things to you. That, along with the thick, rhythmic rasp of him sliding in and out of you, are working far too quickly. The ever present threat of an orgasm, constant since your first, is looming again and you start to moan louder as an unbearable tension builds.
The mattress begins to creak in protest as Sam thrusts hard, surging into you with increasing speed until he's plungingly wildly. Oh good God! You're going to come again. Even your veins seem to hum as a spiraling pleasure shoots from your sex, constricting your muscles and flooding your brain.
Then it stops and without warning and you're flipped.
Confused. and feeling more than a little cheated, you find yourself on yourself facedown on the bed. Before you even think to push yourself up on your arms, Sam's grabbing a pillow and wrapping an arm under your hips, lifting you just enough to shove it underneath. You're just getting used to the idea when he surges inside you from behind, your eyes slam shut as tiny lights burst to life on your eyelids.
"Sam," you call out, managing to form at least one coherent word.
The pillow keeps your pelvis angled so that you're fully open to him. In this position, he can go as deep as physically possible and you've no way of limiting his depth.
The realization sets in. He's too big and if he starts hammering into you it's going to hurt...
You tense up but the pain doesn't come. Sam doesn't even pull out, he just leans over, his arms framing your shoulders and nuzzles your hair aside to kiss you neck.
"Relax," he rumbles at the shell of your ear.
Then, rolling his hips, he grounds slowly and heavily into you. Every nerve in your body sits up straight and begs. Holy Mother of Christ...you aren't sure but you think your eyes might have rolled all the back into your head and tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth.
Then he does it again.
You clamp your eyes shut to prevent an ecstatic scream and grip the bedding like it might keep you earthbound.
Sam knees your knees further apart and slides out, hovering with just the tip inside and then slides back, slow, smooth and deep, grinding into you again.
You can't hold back the muffled squeal as something akin to a pleasure electric shock shoots up your spine and spreads out in waves. You can feel yourself growing sopping wet, your body completely hyper at the pleasure it's receiving. You have no more control and you don't care one bit.
Sam grips your hips in his hands and starts a slow pump, gradually getting deeper and alternating with more of those mind-blowing grinds. You sob as pleasure reaches a level that has your heart galloping and mind reduced to little more than white noise. He hasn't touched your clit in ages but it feels like it's about to explore. Sam's plunges get heavier and heavier, faster and faster, driving deep enough that it should hurt but it doesn't because he's prepared you so well. His grunts begin to meld with your moans. You turn your head, reaching back with your hand to catch him for a kiss that's eroctic putely for it's sweetness.
Then you take the dark slide into oblivion. All sense of self evaporating in the heat of your climax. Reaching your sought after peak, you're capitulated over it as your body bears down on Sam, milking his cock.
His thrusts turn erratic as he gasps and groans with his face pressing into the curve of your neck as he comes. Grunting like a cavemen, he presses his hips into your ass, rutting as deep as he can before collapsing over your back.
The weight of him knocks a gentle oomf from your lungs as you lie limp and breathless. Sam's in a similar state, panting when he turns his head to nestle the hair behind your ear.
"Sheriff," you grin, reaching behind to pat him on the ass. "I had no idea what I was missing."
Sam chuckles, propping himself up on his forearms. You feel his lips on your back, trailing down your spine between shoulder blades as he speaks. "I'll use the cuffs next time."
He pulls out with a sigh and rolls off you. Before you have a chance to move, he's doing the work, jostling you onto your side and hauling you to his chest. You fall asleep a short while later, wrapped in strong arms with the man's heat warming you from behind. You last conscious thought is of how happy you're going to be waking up in his bed.
When your eyes do flutter open the room is dark and silent. The bed is warm but you don't feel Sam and when you reach out your met with an empty pillow. Shaking away sleep, you prop yourself up, eyes adjusting in the dim light. The clock on his nightstand shines bright red numbers, it's almost 4am and Sam is missing in action.
Unable to find the light switch, you feel your way around the room, banging into his dresser and patting the floor until you find a discarded button up flannel. Stepping into the hallway there's enough light to burn your eyes as you pull on his shirt, giving no thought as it hangs open.
You wander, half asleep, down the stairs rubbing your eyes. No one should be awake at this hour but you're not going back to bed solo. Not tonight anyway.
There's a clink of glass on glass in the kitchen and you stammer in a daze, sure you've found your man. Rounding the corner you find yourself standing smack dab in front of Deputies Anderson and Rasmussen. Both men, who are mid-conversation, go silent.
Sully who's sipping a mug of coffee, lowers his drink with a bright smile on his face. "Oh hey there Y/N, what are you…" His voice trails off as his brain catches up to his mouth.
You're not as agile, standing frozen and utterly baffled as to how you found yourself in this situation.
"I...Sam and I were just…." You fumble, squinting in the light.
"Having sex?" Palmer finishes your statement without a hint of amusement.
"You might want to, um," Sully gestures to your open shirt. You look down at Sam's shirt that's covering nothing. Your left breast is completely exposed, as is the neatly trimmed thatch of pubic hair below you belly.
You can't speak, you just awkwardly pull one side of the shirt over the other. You'll be mortified in about five minutes when you have your wits about you, but right now everything is so out of place and you think you might still be asleep.
Just when things couldn't seem to get more uncomfortable, there's a warm sensation between your legs. You bite your lip as Sam's come begins a slow drip down your inner thigh.
"Sully, you head up there right now and make sure no one else goes inside. I'll-" Sam meanders into the kitchen, stopping short. "Oh shit."
"I see why you weren't picking up your phone." Palmer nods, sipping his coffee.
"Hey, let's just cover you up" Sam strides toward you, pulling your shirt closed and turns you around. He guides you out of the kitchen, hands on your shoulders. "Why don't you go back upstairs and I'll be up in a minute."
"Nice to see you!" Sully calls in his chararictscally upbeat tone. You want to die.
You're awake now, really awake and starting to wonder if embarrassment can be fatal. You crawl back in bed, dropping face first into Sam's pillow and let out a muffled cry of shame.
It's several minutes before you hear the door open and then Sam's apologetic voice. "I'm so sorry, I didn't think you'd wake up."
"Just shoot me Sam," you instruct, still face down. "Put me out of my misery."
"I don't think they really-" He hesitates, trying to decide how much to downplay that moments ago you were half naked in the kitchen with the entire Little Tall Sheriff's Department. "Saw that much."
"Sully saw my boobs, he saw it all." You take a second pillow and smash it over your head.
Sam winces. There is an inherent innocence to Sully that somehow makes it worse. Palmer is an old, grump of a drunk who will never let either of you live it down, but Sully will pretend it never happened. It's always be there, unspoken and ever present.
"You want me to go down there and drop trow? Because I'll do it." Sam sits on the bed, his hand resting on the back of your thigh right below your butt cheek. "I'll show 'em everything."
You snort and dig yourself out of the pillow fort of humiliation, flopping onto your back. "I appreciate the offer."
"Just say the word," he smiles and you blush. He's almost in full uniform, dress pants and a tshirt, but that doesn't stop him from joining you in bed. His hand snakes over your stomach as he schooches closer until he's almost on top of you. You could get used to his face looking down from above, the fine lines around his eyes crinkling when he grins. "As much as I want to stay here with you, I have to go."
"No," you pout, reaching up to tuck his hair behind his ear. "What happened?"
His eyes shift away for a moment before refocusing. He's serious, his mouth tight. Something's happened. "It sounds like Rodney Kellogg is dead. I won't know until I get there, but Betty said his front door is wide open and he's laid out on the living room floor."
"Oh my God," you prop yourself on your elbows. "I know him, I mean more than...he taught me how to throw a softball."
"I'm sorry," Sam shakes his head. "That's why the guys are here. I didn't answer my phone so they drove out to get me. I don't wanna leave you like this but-"
"Get out of here," forcing a smile, you push him away halfheartedly. "It's fine, really, you better go."
Sam leans down and kisses you, just the soft touch of his lip, gentle as can be. "Stay here, sleep and call me when you wake up."
"I'm never leaving this bedroom again." You throw a hand over your face.
"Good." Sam pats the door frame. "I'll see you later."