AN: This turned out smuttier than I intended it... Rated M.

For the sixth night in a row, Sharon was woken by the sound of the bare feet against hardwood floor. Before she could process the feeling of being suddenly awake, she heard the sound of the shower. The clock read three-thirty A.M. Another week had passed and Sam's nightmares were getting worse. She had been waking up at all hours of the night drenched in sweat, hence the showers. Sharon blinked a few times to clear her vision and let her eyes adjust to the darkness. The bedroom door was half open, and she could see the light peeking out from beneath the bathroom door across the hall.

She rose from bed and made her way to the bathroom. The heat from the water was dizzying and it spilled out into the hall as she opened the door. "Jesus, Sam," Sharon complained her body immediately flush, "It's like a sauna in here." Sharon opened the door to the shower and winced when she ran her hand quickly under the scalding hot water. Sam's back was to her, the skin indescribably red. Sharon didn't know how the other woman could stand the water so hot. High pain tolerance she guessed. Still, it concerned her, so she turned the knob a few notches closer to C for cold. "You're going to hurt yourself," Sharon told her. Sam seemed to be in a trance, but she snapped out of it and grabbed her by the wrist as she was reaching again for the handle after checking the water temperature. The look of lust in her eyes was not unfamiliar to Sharon, exactly. It was more intense a look than Sharon had expected. Sam's smoldering brown eyes seemed to look right through her.

"Come in here," Sam said as she tugged lightly on Sharon's arm. Sharon furrowed her eyebrows at her hesitantly, but Sam was already pulling at the hem of her shirt. What was this wild, desperate look in her eye? Sharon put her hand over Sam's before she could pull the shirt over her head. "Sam..."

"Please, just come in here. I need you to be with me," Sam pleaded, seemingly desperate. Sam didn't want to talk, but that look, it was worrisome to say the least. Her eyes were puffy as if she'd been crying. Sam was trying to seduce her. How could she tell her no? Sharon backed away from the shower and Sam didn't look away as she undressed.

The water was still hot when she stepped under it, but it wasn't unbearable as it had been. Sharon turned Sam around so she could examine the damage the hot water had done to her back. She knelt down and placed gentle, soothing kisses to the skin there. Her lips trailed from her lower back all the way up to the small tattoo of a blackbird on the back of her neck. Before she met Sam, Sharon had disliked tattoos, but Sam had turned her into a silent admirer of the art. Sam had a few tattoos, all modestly placed: the sun surrounding a crescent moon on her ankle, a small spiral on the inside of her wrist, and a bold but delicate feather along her ribcage that was quite large. Sharon traced her fingers over the feather now, as Sam turned around in her arms and captured her lips in a surprisingly searing kiss that caught Sharon off guard and had her stumbling back against the shower wall.

Sharon moaned softly as Sam released her now bruised lips and roughly kissed her way down her neck. It took nearly every ounce of her self-control to keep from lifting her head in order to grant her better access to her neck. Before she could get a word out in protest, Sam reached down between Sharon's bare thighs and ran her fingers through the wetness there, sending electric tremors up Sharon's spine. In direct conflict with her overheating body, Sharon breathlessly protested, "Wait…" That was all she could get out as Sam started a rough, dizzying assault on her clit, applying delicious pressure just where she knew Sharon liked it. "Ah," Sharon groaned maybe a little too loudly when Sam bit her hard at the base of her neck. If she was going to find out what was going on with Sam, she had to stop her now while she could muster up the will. She reached down between her legs and grabbed Sam's wrist, halting the assault. "Wait," Sharon repeated more firmly this time as Sam stopped moving her fingers against her, disappointment in her eyes.

"Talk to me for a minute, please," Sharon explained. Her green eyes clearly displayed her concern. Sam said nothing in response, brought Sharon's face to hers with her hands, and placed a wet forceful kiss to Sharon's lips under the water. Sharon tried weakly to pull away, and when she did, Sam broke the kiss angrily. "I don't want to talk," she said, her look pleading. "Please?" She asked and snaked her hand around to firmly grip Sharon's ass. Sharon melted. The woman was determined to get what she wanted. Did she even know how sad she looked? Sharon relaxed a little as she decided that maybe they didn't have to talk right now. Maybe she just needed to give Sam whatever it was that she wanted, that she needed, in this moment.

Sam must have detected Sharon's shift because the smallest smile appeared at the corners of her mouth and her hand began to make its way back to its earlier position. But Sharon wasn't about to let it happen again. When she decided not to make Sam talk, it wasn't about what she, herself, needed. This was about Sam. Once again, she stopped Sam by wrapping her fingers around her wrist. Sam whimpered and started to pull away. "No…that's not…" Sharon tried to explain to her irritated counterpart. Sam's face was a scowl as she backed away from Sharon disbelievingly.

Sharon softened her demeanor and stepped toward Sam. She caressed her cheek and softly kissed her frowning mouth as she let her hand wonder down soft, milky white skin and settle between the other woman's legs, barely touching. Sam inhaled deeply and held her breath. "Tell me what you want," Sharon better explained herself.

Without the slightest hesitation, Sam furiously covered Sharon's lips once again; there was so much force behind the kiss that Sharon couldn't help but let a small moan escape. Sam tried to back Sharon into the wall, but Sharon quickly turned them so that it was Sam whose back hit the wall, harder than she had intended. "Sorry," Sharon apologized breathlessly, a trembling hand now covering her own. Sam used her fingers to force Sharon to apply more pressure to her center and bucked her hips when Sharon instead moved their fingers to Sam's clit. "No," Sam whispered. "Tell me what you want," Sharon replied as she pressed harder on her clit. "Mmm…I want you to fuck me," Sam said, unusually needy, "Just fuck me please." Once again, she guided Sharon's fingers to her entrance and this time Sharon allowed it.

She slipped one finger inside and Sam was immediately begging for a second. It didn't take long at all for her walls to begin the familiar spasms around her fingers. Sam was already desperate for release, already writhing, already close. The intensity between them was a little frightening to Sharon. For the first time since their first night together, she almost felt like she didn't know what to do. "More," Sam begged shakily. Both of them were trying their best to keep it down. Sharon added a third finger with unwavering vigor and Samantha bit down on Sharon's shoulder in response, which caused her to grunt in both pleasure and pain. "Fuck…Sharon...harder," Sam demanded surprisingly. Sharon didn't know if she could put much more force behind her thrusts without hurting. "God…please…I need more," Sam repeated. It was getting to be too much. Too rough, too tumultuous. Sam's eyes were too sad and pleading; her movements were too sporadic and desperate. Her walls were squeezing impossibly tight around her fingers, but she wasn't reaching her climax.

Sharon slowed her movements amongst harsh protest. "Don't stop…uh…I'm so close…I am."

"Sharon touched Sam softly, now. Each thrust was slower as Sam rolled her hips to meet them. Sharon was trying to bring her there more gradually, the way Sam usually liked it, but Sam was being impatient tonight. She pulled Sharon in for another bruising kiss, this time biting it so that Sharon tasted blood. She again sped up her thrusts with a groan of appreciation from Sam who bucked her hips hard around Sharon's hand. She wanted it rough, but Sharon could tell it wasn't enough.

And she obeyed every command. Faster, harder, more… Faster. Harder. More.

At this point, Sharon was afraid she was hurting her. Sam was moaning in frustration, chasing her orgasm furiously. Every time Sharon felt that it was coming, that Sam was gone, something brought her back from the edge.

It was happening again. Samantha had that look. Her body tensed against Sharon. Her walls tightened impossibly tighter, strangling Sharon's tired hand. Sam held her breath and her hips jerked uncontrollably. Sharon kept going. She kept up her thrusts, waiting for the release. "Oh, God," Sam breathed, "Stop…stop. I can….mmm…I can't take it anymore…I can't." Sharon slowed down and Sam's body relaxed and the spasms subsided. Sharon extracted her fingers, but continued to stroke Sam's pussy.

"What is it?" Sharon asked. Sam didn't answer.

Instead she flipped them around. Sharon's back hit the wall with a thud, and Sam was no longer at her level. She was tracing patterns with her tongue around Sharon's belly button. "Honey, you don't have to…" Samantha shushed her. "I want to," She blew against Sharon hotly. A wave of hot heat washed over her body. This whole time she had ignored her own arousal, barely noticing just how turned on she actually was. She felt close the instant Sam lapped her tongue roughly over her clit then back to her entrance. Sam didn't tease. She entered her immediately. Sharon's eyes fluttered closed as Sam snaked her hand up to pinch the nipple of her left breast. "Oh…fuck," Sharon whimpered. Sam was going unbelievably fast. Her tongue was hitting all the right places and it was almost unbearable.

She felt a wetness run down her legs that she was sure wasn't the shower. Sam removed her tongue and Sharon thought she was going to die, but it was quickly replaced by not one but three fingers. "Uh," Sharon grunted in pain. Sam didn't move her hand for the briefest second and she stood to her feet, concern in her expression. She thought that she'd hurt her.

Sharon wrapped a leg around Sam's waist and pressed her body impossibly closer, signaling for Sam that it was okay to continue. She did. One… Two… Three hard thrusts and Sharon was spiraling toward oblivion. Her body was out of her control as her climax rapidly approached. She just needed… "Yes," She moaned, gasping for air as Sam started to rub her clit furiously with her thumb. "Oh, God…I…I'm cumming," Sharon whispered breathless as her legs went limp underneath her. If Sam hadn't been holding her up, she would have collapsed as the white light took her over.

Sam muffled Sharon's moans with her mouth, sucking at her tongue and licking her lips. Sharon barely noticed because Sam was only slowing her thrusts enough for Sharon to compose herself briefly.

Sam sucked on her neck, the spot behind her earlobe that drove Sharon wild. Sam smiled a crooked smile when Sharon whimpered at the addition of a fourth finger. "Sam," she tried to warn, but having not fully recovered from the first orgasm, her tone wasn't as convincing as she'd meant it.

Sam's thumb rolled hard over her clit, and Sharon couldn't help but roll her hips. "I can't…again," She weakly begged. "Shh," Sam said softly, "Yes you can." Sharon grunted in helpless protest and Sam rolled her thumb hard not once but twice over her sensitive nub.

"Fuck," Sharon gave in. Fine…Again. Sharon thought, as she brought her hips up to meet her lover's thrusts. It didn't take long and she was once again gasping for air. She moved her thigh in position between Sam's legs, applying pressure where she knew that Sam must have needed it. "God," Sam whimpered, her rhythm interrupted as she ground her core harder against Sharon's thigh. Sharon was close to orgasm, but she needed Sam to cum with her. Judging by the look on Sam's face and the way she was writhing against her, she would be able to.

Sharon was right. Sam's entire body tensed and then released as soon as Sharon entered her. "Uh…Sharon…" Samantha groaned as her body went limp. Then Sharon was gone too as they both sank, lifelessly to the bottom of the shower.

"I'm sorry." Sharon shifted beneath the sheets and adjusted her legs so that they were intertwined with Sam's. Since their shower together, they'd been lying in bed silently awkward, but not uncomfortable. Sam kissed Sharon's shoulder tenderly and softly grazed the skin of her arm with her fingertips. Sharon looked at her with probing green eyes that seemed to be filled with worry. "What are you sorry for?" She asked.

"For being so rough. I know that's not…" She stopped herself. Not quite sure where that sentence was going. "You're going to be sore," She finished instead. Sharon shrugged and turned on her side so that the two were now face to face. Sam looked away, afraid to talk for fear of having to talk about it.

When she did, Sharon tensed up beside her and she couldn't help but return her eyes to their previous focus. "Are you really going to make me force this out of you?" Sam didn't respond to Sharon's serious tone. Well, as serious as she could be after the startlingly intense experience the two had just shared.

"What is it going to take?" Sharon continued, "Torture?"

"Hmm…" Sam sighed, pretending to consider the prospect. She really wanted to talk to Sharon, but going down on her was much more appealing.

So she shuffled their bodies so that she was on top and leaned in to place a gentle kiss to Sharon's lips, which Sharon didn't allow to get any deeper. "Not until you talk," Sharon said absolutely. Sam sighed, "Is this what you mean by torture? Withholding sex, doesn't just punish me, you know." Sam pressed her thigh firmly between Sharon's legs. She was wet, but had an excellent poker face. They stayed like this for a while, staring into each other's eyes. It was a silent challenge. It was clear that Sharon wasn't going to let her win this time.

Sam surrendered with a huff and sat up straight between Sharon's legs. "I don't even know where to start, Sharon," Sam sighed. She crossed her legs Indian-style and Sharon sat up as well. "Start with what you're afraid of." Sharon told her simply.

"I don't know what I'm afraid of. I used to think I wasn't afraid of anything."
"What are you afraid to talk about? The nightmares?"

"They're part of it…I've had them for as long as I can remember…off and on," Sam said.
Sharon looked confused. "About Sara killing herself?"
For a second, Sam was confused. Then, she remembered that she hadn't told Sharon the entire dream.

"No," she answered, "About my dad. He…did kill himself. When I was twelve."

Sam had to pause for minute. She hated for people to feel sorry for her, and this is why she couldn't look at Sharon. Talking about that night always made her extremely uncomfortable. She didn't like feeling like she was nonchalantly sharing a tragic story from her past. Like it was just something that happened to her. It sometimes felt like it was so real that it shouldn't even be talked about. It felt to sacred an event, to raw and to the bone to tell. She knew she had to tell Sharon this. If she didn't, it would just hang between them like it had with every relationship she'd ever tried to make work.

Sharon lifted her chin with her hand. There was sympathy in her features for sure, but it wasn't overwhelming like she'd expected it to be. It was just Sharon. As she briefly locked eyes with her, she couldn't remember the feeling of being afraid. Of course, she could tell her anything, she then realized as if it weren't obvious before.

"I was twelve…Sara was four at the time. Dad had taken her to the grocery store. He left her there. He bought flowers and drove to the hospital where my mom worked when they first started seeing each other. I guess he was going to surprise her," Sam said.

Sharon smiled slightly but sadly, "What happened?"

"Nothing…a friend saw Sara wondering around the toothpaste aisle…alone…Called my mom. She freaked out. They had no idea where he was. Shortly after I got home from school a nurse that used to work with my mom called. She'd recognized my dad and knew about his diagnosis. By seven thirty that night everything seemed…fine. Back to normal…family dinner… My dad was back, he knew who and when he was. He kept apologizing to my mother. He felt….horrible for leaving Sara alone…"

"And your mother?" Sharon asked.

"Ahh….my mother," Sam snickered, "she was obviously upset, but she….would never have admitted it to him. She had been…distant I guess. The episodes were getting worse. He'd be talking to you and then midsentence he would forget what he was talking about. Sometimes he would forget where he was.

That night, I got out of bed and went into the kitchen for a glass of water. My father was sitting in the dark at the dining table, writing in a notebook, what I would later understand was his suicide letter. He didn't hear me come into the kitchen."

Sharon placed her hand supportively on Sam's knee. Sam tried to see what it was in Sharon's eyes that she had been so unsure of before. She couldn't believe how easy telling this story to her was.

"I can't really describe to you the way the room felt. Like I was intruding?" A single tear that she hadn't even felt coming, rolled down her cheek, and Sharon calmly brushed it away with her thumb. "It was the quickest second of my life… He put the gun to his head and before I even had time to comprehend… to even think to say anything… He—"

"Sam," Sharon's voice soothed as another tear and then another escaped her. "He pulled the trigger." She wiped at her face quickly. "Come here," Sharon said as she pulled Sam into her arms. Sam went half unwilling and only allowed the other woman to hold her for a minute. Any longer and she would have completely lost it. "I wish I had done something, you know…" She said quietly weeping.

"What could you have done?"

"Made noise…opened my mouth. I could have let him know that I was there… Maybe if I'd just called to him before…. Maybe he wouldn't have—"

"You can't think that way," Sharon said.

"I do," Sam shrugged. "Well don't," Sharon told her, "You were a kid."
Sam sighed heavily. She felt incredible. Like this huge weight had been lifted off of her shoulders.

"Why couldn't you tell me?" Sharon asked after Sam collected herself as best she could.

"I was afraid… I don't like to think that it was real. I don't like to think that I ever had a father that could have done that to himself… to us… I don't like the way I feel when I talk about it to other people. Like I'm reciting the tragic story of somebody else's life… They don't know what to say and get uncomfortable. I don't ever want you to see me as someone that needs to be pitied or coddled. I just love what we have and I don't want to fuck it up like I know I can."

"No you can't. I love you. You can tell me anything and I will still feel that way," Sharon assured her.

Sam looked into Sharon's eyes possibly for the first time since she'd began her story. There wasn't pity there or unease. Her gestures weren't awkward or unsure. Instead, she was met with a natural compassion that radiated from the other woman unlike any moment that had ever before been shared between them. She couldn't help but feel relieved as her tears dried from her face and a sleepy exhaustion started to weigh heavily over her eyelids.

"I know," Sam admitted, "I can't believe I didn't see it before." She stroked Sharon's cheek with the back of her hand as the other woman cupped her face gently before silently she urged her to lie down beside her and get some sleep.

And for the first night in a month, she didn't think or dream about anything.