Chapter 11: The First Time

It had all been a blur. Walking through the lobby, her hand in his, the elevator ride. Even when they entered the room; she couldn't exactly recall what he'd said to her, if anything. She'd escaped immediately into the bathroom, desperate for some time to calm herself.

It was ridiculous really, she'd been the one to press the issue, who said waiting was unnecessary who simply felt ready. During all those nights in his room, in his bed, she'd been the one to push the limits. To take him as far as he'd go and still beg for more.

But now that the moment was here she was terrified. She wanted nothing more than to be with Freddie that way. And she knew he wanted it too. Her fear had less to do with the act itself and more to do with how it might affect everything else that made them … them. She'd worried while she showered, while she washed her hair, while she brushed her teeth. And now she stood in the full length mirror, trying to shake the doubts away as she brushed her hair.

Freddie loved her-of that much she was sure. And as much as it was in his power to do so, he'd promised not to leave her. She trusted that; trusted with her life when it came down to it. She knew her worries were probably typical. She knew if ever there was someone to whom she could give something this precious and know they'd understand the value, it was Freddie.

She sighed and looked into her bag. It was filled with things Carly had insisted she buy once she found out what Sam had planned for tonight. There was lace and satin, strings and ties, and outfits she'd never be able to put on by herself. But picking them up one by one, she realized that none of them felt right. She hadn't come here to play dress up she'd done enough of that at GalaxyCon. She'd come to show Freddie that she loved him and that she trusted him. She'd come to give him all of her the real her. Not a Barbie doll dressed up in fancy clothes.

In the end she hadn't eradicated all of the fear, but she'd summoned courage enough to open the bathroom door and enter the darkened room in only a towel no make-up, her wet hair in loose ringlets around her bare shoulders, no pretenses. This wasn't the time to present an airbrushed version of herself, covered in satin and lace. This was a moment meant for stripping down to the truth of who they were, separately and together.

Freddie turned from the window at her approach and locked his eyes on hers. In all his years of knowing her, she'd always been a master illusionist, capable of hiding in plain sight when it was hardest to be honest, or where being vulnerable was imminent. It was less so since she'd come to trust in the fact that he loved her, but tonight, on her face, there was a clarity that shook him. In the crystal blue of her eyes there were no more shadows, no walls to keep him out. She wasn't hiding.

She stopped at the edge of the bed and he continued toward her, never taking his eyes from hers. His breath was ragged, fingertips tingling at the promise of touching her. He couldn't seem to reach her fast enough and when he finally stood in front of her and ran his hand over the goose bumped flesh of her arms, he nearly cried out his relief at being near her. Touching her made this real.

Running his hand over her cheek, he brushed the hair away from her face, closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to hers. She was trembling against him, whether from cold or fear he couldn't be sure, so he pulled her tight against him. She tensed then, moving her head to rest on his chest. He ignored what was building, coursing through him; ignored his desire to grab the towel covering her and throw it to the farthest corner of the room. He wouldn't rush. She'd waited for him. He could wait for her.

"I love you," he said. She nodded against his chest. "And you know we don't have to do anything you don't want to." She froze, her shoulders rigid. "Sam, look at me."

She raised her head and met his eyes. He wrestled with the raw lust that looking at her filled him with. It was a hard fight. Just the thought of what lay beneath the towel draped around her curvy frame made it hard to breathe. But everything else was secondary to his promise to her. He would put her first, even if not having her felt like it would kill him.

"If you don't want to…"

"No, Freddie." She said, her voice re-gaining its strength. "I want this, want you, so much. It's just…" she sighed, "This. It changes everything."

Threading his arms around her, he leaned in close, whispering in her ear.

"The best things always do. Loving you…it changed everything. And I wouldn't take it back not for anything."

He felt her relax into him, her hand sliding from his neck, down his arm. She pulled back and squeezed his hand before letting go and walking past him toward the bed. At the side she turned out the light on the nightstand and turned toward him. Looking into his eyes, she raised her hand to the knot that held closed the white towel that covered her. With a short tug, it fell into a puddle at her feet, and he envied the moon that kissed her skin and bathed her body in its light.

He'd heard people call her pretty. He'd told her she was beautiful. It had been true, was still true, but the way she looked now those words seemed inadequate. It was more than just what he could see and touch that made it so. It was the way she stood, pressing past the fear of what tomorrow might bring, offering herself to him.

She was showing him a part of herself that no one had ever seen, giving him something no one had ever had that she could never give again. That truth tugged at the fraying strands of his self-control until it finally released him. He couldn't stand another minute without her skin under his hands. He felt heavy with the weight of wanting her, needing her.

He rushed to where she stood and captured her lips with his. This kiss wasn't soft. It was firm and demanding. He sucked at her bottom lip, running his tongue along the sensitive flesh behind it. She opened her mouth, deepening the kiss, moving her lips insistently against his, pressing herself into him, sliding her hand along his jaw and into his hair. His hand rested at the small of her back, his fingers tracing circles on the skin there, sending tiny shivers up her spine.

There would be no stopping this time-she knew that. There was more that lay beyond their kisses and knowing that made her hungry for him. Her hand drifted from his neck, grabbing hold of the bottom of his shirt, slipping her hands underneath. She ran her hands across the skin of his chest, over his stomach, tracing the lines of his hip bones as the disappeared beneath his jeans.

"Too many clothes," she smiled into his mouth, tugging at his shirt. "This needs to go."

"Your wish is my command." he said, stepping back to pull his shirt over his head. His hand went to the button of his jeans.

"Let me," she whispered. She undid the button and slid the zipper down, slipping her hands in behind him she pushed his jeans down until they fell to his feet. He stepped out of them quickly, pulling her back into his arms.

They'd never been this close, she realized, skin to skin, the only thing preventing full contact the thin fabric that did little to disguise the thickness of him as it pressed against her. She squirmed against it, amazed at its. A moan rippled through his chest and his lips were on hers again, his tongue twisting against hers. Her pulse quickened as he tightened an arm around her waist, lifting her into the air, never breaking the kiss. Turning her towards the bed, he laid her softly at the center of it.

On his knees beside her he stared down, eyes raking over her as he lowered himself, his body a shadow over hers. He lay there, just kissing her, his hands running softly over every curve, now free to discover even the hidden places. This was worship as foreplay. He wanted his hands to learn every inch of her, memorize the slope of her hop, the dip of her waist, the soft swell of her breasts.

Neither of them knew exactly what they were doing, but mechanics seemed somehow irrelevant. Their bodies moved against each other, familiar even in the newness of their circumstance. What they knew was a fierce hunger for the other that demanded attention, what they didn't know they would learn the same as they had so many other things together.

He hovered over her, his mouth hot against her neck as he sucked at the skin there, dragging his tongue against the vein, reaching her ear, nibbling at her earlobe. She was sure she'd never known what it felt like to be adored until this moment when he looked down at her, his eyes dark with lust, drinking her in. And then his mouth was on her again, running a circuit across her body from head to hip, and back again. Every kiss falling on her like the sweetest of promises.

"So beautiful." His words were muffled as he licked his way down the valley between her breasts.

"You always say that," she whispered.

"It's always true." His hands were soft as he took one breast in his hand, kneading the flesh. She pressed her hand to the back of his head, leading him to where she needed him, and her breath left her in a rush as his tongue traced a circle around her nipple before drawing it between his lips. Like a current, his mouth sent heat surging through her. He placed feather-light kisses over her chest as he moved to her other breast, his tongue twisting and swirling as he drew more of her into his mouth.

His hands molded to her body as they found their way down her ribcage, over the curve of her hip and onto her thigh. She tried, in vain, to stop herself from quivering as he spread her legs with one of his, his fingers tracing a line over her knee to her inner thigh. Their softness was more suggestion of touch than touch itself as they moved and higher and higher still, turning her to liquid beneath him. When their maddeningly slow ascent brought them to her center, her hips jerked, pressing into his hand, seeking release.

"Please, Freddie," she breathed.

He lay propped beside her and at her breathless pleading, he smiled.

"Someone's impatient."

At another time she might have said something witty, but his fingers playing at the edge of her entrance, refusing to touch her where she wanted it most, made it impossible for her to form coherent thought let alone witty banter.

"Just….ahhh," her eyes rolled as one finger slid across her core.

"Just what?" he asked, kissing along her jaw line, returning his fingers to their teasing. "What do you want me to do, Sam?"

"Touch me," she barely recognized the throaty whisper of her own voice.

He needed no further encouragement and as he slid one finger inside her, his thumb running circles around her clit as she hissed. There was blinding light behind her eyes and she cried out from the shock of it, the sound of her pleasure cut off as he kissed her. She rocked her hips, arms tight around his neck as he set their rhythm. She returned his kiss hungrily. Her mind was hazy; the feel of him, the taste of him was all that made sense.

"Oh, God, Freddie…"

"Does that feel good?" he murmured against the side of her mouth.

"So good, don't stop…"

He wouldn't stop, he couldn't, not with her mouth sucking and biting at his neck. With her moaning and writhing beneath him. He'd never seen anything so sexy and even as he throbbed with the need for his own release he was too mesmerized by her reaction to quit, or even slow down. He quickened the pace of his fingers, watching as she tensed, a red blush blossoming on her chest.

He pressed himself against her leg, needing the friction even if it threatened to end it all way too soon. He'd read that the more aroused a woman was, the easier it was the first time. He didn't want to hurt her or take the chance that in the moment he'd be done before she was satisfied. So he'd pay attention to her first, and pray he had the strength to hold on.

She was loud now, calling out into the otherwise silent room.

"Freddie! Ahhh!" She fell back against the bed, back arched, mouth open and he felt her clench around his finger, before her body went slack. She lay still as he removed his hand and lay beside her, staring into her face. She was breathing hard, her tumble of blond curls wild as they lay across the pillow.

He placed soft kisses on her eyelids, trying to calm himself, but it was no use. He hadn't had enough, he needed more of her all of her. He ran his fingers along her side, grasping her hip. She was so still that for a moment he wondered if she was asleep.

"Sam?" he said softly.

"Mmm Hmm. Just give me a sec."

The man he was becoming was happy she was satisfied, and proud he was the cause. The boy he was now protested the interruption loudly.

She opened her eyes and peered up at him, laughing softly.

"Don't look so disappointed."

He hadn't realized what the look on his face might be saying.

"I'm not disappointed. I'm…"

"Ready for your turn?" she said, her voice low. Before he could speak she wrapped her hand around the base of his neck and pulled him down to her. He realized then he could kiss her for the rest of his life and never tire of it. Her hands fell to his shoulders, running over them. She outlined the muscles of his chest inching lower to his waist, scratching softly at the skin just below his navel. Stopping at the elastic to his boxers she hooked her thumbs into the waistband tugging them over his hips. He rose up and pulled them off clumsily, both of them laughing as he fell back to the bed.

"Now who's impatient?" she teased.

Pushing on his shoulder, she turned them so that she was on top. Her legs draped over either side of his waist and he groaned as her backside pressed down onto him. With an open mouth her tongue began a trail along his neck, over his chest. She wriggled against him, positioning herself lower, knees on either side of his legs. She placed a hand to his chest to balance herself, nibbling at the skin of his stomach, leaving heat in her wake like a match to a trail of gasoline.

He knew what she was doing, but he couldn't believe what she was doing. Looking down the line of his body he found her eyes were on his. She was really going to do this and look at him while doing it. It was too much; he stiffened to granite hardness when she came to a stop, her small hand moving up his thigh. She placed her hand along his shaft, grasping the base and he nearly wept as her warm, hot mouth engulfed him.

"Fuck!" He didn't curse, not under normal circumstances. But this situation he found himself was, until this point, not normal. The pressure of her lips around him, her tongue swirling around the tip as her hand matched the up and down movement of her mouth. It was heaven, it was bliss. And it was going to have to stop.

"Sam…" She ignored him, increasing the pace of her movements until he saw stars. He attempted to sit up, which only pressed him further into her mouth, until he disappeared behind her lips and thought sure he'd die on the spot. "Unhh! God!" he threw his head back and tried to remember why he'd wanted her to stop. The tension building in his gut, pushing him closer to the edge, was his answer. He reached down and gently lifted her head, scooting his hips back.

Her eyes were confused. "Why are you stopping? Did I… do it wrong?"

"No!" he said, "That was…amazing. But if you don't stop, this is going to be over really soon."

She laughed, nodding her understanding, crawling back up his body, her head coming to rest in the crook of his neck. He rubbed his hands over her back, drifting down over the delicious curve of her ass. Her breath was a soft rush over his skin.

"Everything," she said, "everything you do to me feels so good."

She ground her hips into him, both of them jolted by the electricity as his dick made contact with the pool of wetness between her legs. Sitting up, one hand in her hair, the other wrapped over her stomach, she began to rock against him. If being inside her was going to feel this good, he wasn't sure he could take it.

She was slick against him as he lifted his hips, pressing into her, but never far enough. Biting her lip, she dropped further onto her knees and his tip passed through her folds. She flinched and fell down over him, hands on his shoulders. He took advantage of the temporary shift in power and flipped her over roughly.

He continued to rub against her, drenched now in the proof that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. He kissed her, his lips forceful and insistent. His mouth demanding response, hers responding in kind. Spreading her legs, he positioned himself between them. She was quiet now and he knew: this was it. This whole weekend, this whole summer, had been leading up to this moment. There was no turning back from here, no more waiting or wondering. This would make her his, in a way that she could never belong to anyone else. The thought didn't scare him it pushed him. This woman lying in his arms was all he wanted, not just now, but forever.

He reached over to the nightstand, pulling out the drawer and grabbing the condoms he'd put there while she was in the shower. Small foil package in hand, he perched on one elbow, opening it.

"You know we don't have to…use those I mean."

She was on the pill. He'd almost forgotten that. It was something they needed to discuss. Now was not the time.

"Better safe than sorry," he said, pulling the condom out of the package. Sam pulled it from his hand and he squeezed his eyes shut as he found himself again wrapped in her grip. She rolled the latex down impossibly slowly he wondered if she was torturing him on purpose.

Looking down at her his eyes ask the question his mouth couldn't form.

'Are you sure? Are you ready?'

In answer to his silent inquiry Sam shifted on the bed, reaching between them to place the tip his length at her opening. He lay against her, head by her neck, and pushed into her slowly. He stopped when he was met with resistance and the sound of Sam whimpering beneath him. He sat up, scanning her face.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No," she said, "Just…go slow."

He did. He was slow and deliberate, biting his lip until he thought he'd draw blood. She was so hot, so wet. He moved into her again and again. His body shook with the effort to keep himself from delving deeper. Finally, he pushed forward and felt the barrier give way as he slipped into her, faster than he intended. His ears were ringing, he felt dizzy. All around his dick she wrapped him in silken heat, with every thrust gliding over slick walls. He threw his head back, a groan more feral than human escaping his lips as he called out her name. For the rest of his life, pleasure would be defined by this moment, and he was lost in it.

Sam pressed her hips into the bed, her body involuntarily moving away from the pain, searing and insistent at her core. She'd known it would hurt, but she hadn't expected the sudden sharpness of it, feeling herself stretch to accommodate him. It was pain different than any she'd known, but it was also joy like she'd never known. Looking into his face above her, jaw tense, eyes closed as he called her name with jagged breath, she'd have done it again, a thousand times again no matter the pain. Just to hear him say her name that way. Just to know that he was hers.

The pain began to subside, overtaken by a pleasure that made her feel like she was flying inside of her skin. Where the pain had been instant, this new feeling came in flashes matched to the timing of his thrusts, each one tightening the spring of coiled heat in her stomach. Just as she'd adjust to one wave another would replace it, stronger than the first. It was a building crescendo.

She knew he felt it too. Above her he bit his lip in concentration, his breathing rapid. His fingers dug into the skin on her hip, grabbing it, pulling her closer and closer. She understood this need; she didn't think she could be close enough. He was over her, in her, all around her, and still she wanted more. Spreading her legs further, he sunk down into her, hitching her leg over his hip, wrapping it around his back, his hand sliding under her to the soft curve of her ass. This change in position drove him into her completely. The feeling of her, drenched and throbbing around him was, all at once, too much and not enough. He couldn't control himself, couldn't seem to maintain a steady movement. His strokes were as erratic as his breathing. Sam moved wildly under him, whimpering, gasping, crying out his name, and whispering her love for him. He wanted to prolong it, to live in the center of the greatest feeling he'd ever had, but he knew his body wouldn't hold out much longer.

He couldn't focus on anything beyond the power of this feeling. He moved frantically, burying himself in her. Every sense was sharpened, everything more vivid. At the base of his shaft there was a tightening that ran the length of his body and he curled inward, eyes rolling against the sensation. He was close.

"Oh God, Freddie." Sam's voice was high and keening. She grabbed onto his neck, his arms, his back, her hands in constant motion, her hips, twisting, twirling, threatening to undo him. "I think I'm going to…" her words were cut off as he slid out of her and back in, even deeper than before, hitting a spot she'd only heard existed. She screamed and he felt her begin to spasm around him, clenching and unclenching, pulling and releasing. It was his ending.

Lowering his lips to hers he gave in and with a final thrust he was pulled from his body, the world exploding around him like shattering glass on pavement. He screamed out her name into the quiet room and felt her tighten around him once more. He burst, tremors sending his body shuddering against hers, the legs she'd wrapped around him shaking, her fingers clawing at his back as she opened her mouth in a silent scream. And then they were still.

He couldn't move. but he knew his weight would be too much on her small frame so he rolled to his side, gathering her into his arms, unwilling yet to break the connection between them.

She laid there, her back pressed firmly to his chest, trying to catch her breath. Trying to stop her legs from shaking. She understood now why it had been important to wait; understood why this couldn't have happened with anyone else. No one on Earth would ever be as close to her as Freddie had been in that moment. She wouldn't want to share that connection with anyone else.

Freddie's arms wrapped tighter around her, his face buried in her hair. His breathing had almost returned to normal. She ran her fingers along his arm, leaning further back into his chest.

"You okay?" he asked.

She nodded and raised his hand to her lips, placing a kiss against his palm. He felt wetness against his hand and rose up to look into her face.

"Sam, are you crying?" She hadn't really realized it until he spoke. But there they were, tears, coursing down her cheeks. "Baby, what's wrong. Did I hurt you?" He sounded desperate and she shifted in his arms, facing him with a soft smile on her face.

"You didn't hurt me."

"Then why are you crying?" he asked, poised to fix whatever he'd done to hurt her.

She shook her head, "It's just…that was," she sighed, "Perfect."

He relaxed and rested his chin on the top of her head and held her in the silence. Her breath against his neck was soft and steady. She was asleep.

He smiled to himself, running the last 24 hours through his head. She was right, it had been perfectly them: laughter and tears, pleasure and pain. He couldn't imagine that anything had ever felt as right as this, or ever would again.

'Yep', he thought as Sam's heart beat against his chest, 'Lucky, lucky, me.'