Ok, here's what you've all (or maybe like two of you) have been waiting for! The last chapter, and some serious Sam and Quinn quality time. Warnings: most of this chapter will be pure smut. If you love that, read on! If not, skip this one and stick around for the epilogue. (Although if you're not comfortable with M, you should NOT be reading this story in the first place!) I'm aware that it's all very awkward, but I hope that it's awkward in the enjoyable way, and not awkward in the awkward way. Enjoy, and as always, I dearly appreciate your reviews!
Chapter 29
Sam lay flat on his back, staring up at the low paneled basement ceiling that had provided the backdrop of his dreams and nightmares for months. Quinn lay on her back beside him, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, thigh to thigh. Sam hadn't realized how little he truly had in terms of material possessions until he went to pack. At Quinn's house, he had a few pairs of jeans, some t-shirts, two sweaters Kurt had given him, socks, an old pair of sneakers nearly destroyed with wear, a week's supply of underwear, shampoo, a toothbrush, deodorant, a razor, and his letter jacket. Since at any given time he was wearing about a third of his wardrobe, the rest fit easily into his backpack. In a few hours, Quinn would drop him off at his family's new apartment, and he and Quinn would go back to being a normal teenage couple that saw each other at school and on weekends.
His parents had been very careful in budgeting out the money they had newly acquired. They had never been wasteful people, but their recent hardship had taught them that even a pot of gold in the sum of fifty thousand dollars could be gone in the blink of an eye if they weren't cautious. For a week, his mother had spent a few hours an evening at the public library, searching the Internet for apartment listings rather than taking on the expense of a broker. She had carefully compiled a list of addresses, phone numbers, rental prices, and other details into a neat catalogue, then called each number to schedule a viewing. After another week of surveying apartments, his parents had settled on a small, one bedroom apartment in Lima Heights. It wasn't the greatest neighborhood, but it was safe, it was close enough to the high school and elementary school that Sam could plausibly walk his siblings to school in the morning, and at four hundred dollars a month, it was affordable.
Once they had signed a rental agreement—they had also been careful to find a month-to-month lease—they took Sam to see their new home. It was small, definitely, but compared to the motel room, it was a palace. The door opened into a combined kitchen and living room that was barely large enough to hold a rectangular kitchen table that could conceivably seat six and a pullout couch. Despite its size, it had a fresh coat of paint, a large picture window that let in streams of light, and felt as clean as an older apartment could feel. The bedroom was about the same size as the living room and had closets. It comfortably held a queen bed, a large dresser, and a desk. Between the two rooms was a perfectly clean and adequate bathroom.
When they had finished giving him the grand tour, his parents explained that they would first try sleeping with the two of them and Stacy in the bedroom, and Sam and Stevie on the pullout couch. Sam had been doing much better with his night terrors, but if they became a problem again, he and Stacy would switch, so that hopefully the closed doors would prevent the other children from waking.
"You loved sharing a room with Stevie back in Tennessee," his dad offered, almost apologetically, "It'll be almost just like that."
Before leaving the apartment that would become their new home, his parents asked Sam what he thought. The shame they had expressed when moving their children into the motel room was gone, but they still seemed sheepish. They seemed worried that he would be disappointed with their new living situation, given the amount of money they had received.
"It's perfect," Sam answered, giving them one of his patented megawatt smiles. And he wasn't lying for their benefit, either. With the exception of missing Quinn, he was going to love being back with his family again.
The other major expense his family would be incurring with their new fortune was weekly therapy for Sam. His dad had placed a call to Dr. Allen Iveres, the doctor they had taken him to when the night terrors first started. Undoubtedly feeling sorry for Sam and his family, the doctor, who had expertise in sexual assault and trauma, had agreed to see Sam at a reduced rate of one hundred dollars an hour. If he went to a weekly session, as his parents wanted him to, they would be spending the same amount per month on therapy as they would be paying in rent. Sam felt immensely guilty that they were spending so much of what they had on him, but his dad had been quick to remind him of how they came by the money in the first place.
"You heard Mrs. Meyers. Those families gave us this money because they want to try to make things better for you in a way they couldn't make things better for their own sons. Don't you think it would be rude for us to accept the money and then not use it how they intended us to?" his dad had asked.
Sam supposed he was right and nodded. He was nervous about it though. He was happy with the progress he'd made on his own and was afraid that if the doctor started digging around and bringing all his feelings to light, he'd have to accept the fact that he had buried rather than resolved them. Everyone always said that it would get worse before it got better, but things were getting better. He was going to be living with his family again, he was sleeping ok, and even his grades were improving somewhat from the dismal state they'd fallen to in the last few months. He hoped that the stress of exploring emotions or whatever you were supposed to do in therapy wouldn't undo all of those small luxuries he had attained.
Whining a little and breaking out the pouty-lipped puppy face he tried so hard not to use unless it was necessary (or with Quinn), he managed to get a one-week stay on beginning therapy until after his sixteenth birthday. He wasn't asking for a lot, he just wanted to have a normal day. Ultimately, it ended up being a much happier day than he expected, and looking back on the more traditional birthday parties he'd had growing up, he would still pick out his sixteenth as his fondest. At school, he hadn't told anyone that it was his birthday, and just as he wanted, with the exception of a few quiet "Happy Birthdays" from his closest friends, no one mentioned it. Still, though, the day went smoother than most, with next to no bickering or drama in glee club. His mom made all his favorites for dinner—grilled chicken, brown rice, mushrooms, and broccoli—and for once, no one complained about being forced to eat his beloved health foods. They were all so used to hotplate rice, beans, and noodles, that Sam's normally bland choices tasted like the richest, most indulgent meal they'd ever had.
After dinner, Quinn, Kurt, Rachel, and Finn stopped by the motel room. His mom had also bought a small cake, more for their visitors than Sam, who generally didn't like sweets, and they all sat around on the porch laughing and shoveling forkfuls of the fluffy concoction. For the first time in a long time, everyone he loved—his mom and dad, his little brother and sister, Quinn, and his three best friends—all seemed genuinely happy. Not like they were putting on brave smiles for him, or indulging in the sickly smiles of revenge for his attackers, but simple, genuine happiness. Kurt was even dishing on the curly-haired boy from Dalton Academy he was making googly eyes with at Regionals. That feeling of comfort and security was distracting Sam from the conversation, and he realized that he was probably smiling dopily into space. When his friends finally got his attention, Finn and Rachel went to retrieve something from Finn's car in the parking lot.
His guitar.
And he knew it was his because of the stickers wearing down on the case and the mismatched strings he had carefully strung and tuned himself. Before everything had happened, he would stop by to visit it in the pawn shop every once in a while, mostly to check to see if it was still there. It wasn't fancy, and he couldn't imagine anyone loving that guitar the way he did, but it had gotten him fifty bucks, which at the time had been food money for a week. He looked up at Finn and Rachel with wide, awestruck eyes. He hadn't been expecting a gift for his birthday at all, from anyone, and especially not something so, so . . . perfect.
"You, you guys bought my guitar back?"
"Well, we all did," Rachel chirped. "Everyone in the glee club."
"Yeah, we know how much you loved that thing," Finn added. "So we all threw in a few bucks."
Sam stared down at the guitar in his lap, fiddling with and tuning the strings so that no one would see the tears building in his eyes before he could blink them away. When he was confident that he had his emotions under control, he looked up.
"Thank ya'll so much. This . . . it means so much to me."
"We know," Rachel smiled.
"Sammy," Stacy whined in her eight-year-old, pay-attention-to-me voice, "Are you gonna play for us?"
"Sure, princess," he said, leaning over to kiss the top of her head and ruffle her hair.
Propping the instrument across his thighs, he began plucking easily at the strings, his long fingers sliding over the frets as if he were caressing them like a lover. Rachel and Quinn filled in with the vocals.
Little darlin', it's been a long, long lonely winter
Little darlin', if feels like years since it's been here
Here comes the sun
Here comes the sun
And I say, it's all right
Now, two days after his birthday and almost four weeks since the end of the trial and sentencing, Sam would be reuniting with his family. It was bittersweet, he thought, turning his face to the side to stare at Quinn, staring up at the ceiling. He'd be getting his family back. But at the same time, he wanted Quinn to be his family, too, someday.
"Whatcha staring at?" Quinn asked, feeling his gaze on her without turning hers away from the ceiling.
"Just you," he murmured.
"Just me?"
"You."
Still laying on her back, she turned her head in his direction. They lay side by side, noses touching, staring into each other's eyes. It was weird, looking at each other from this close. All he could see of her was the honey-green blur of her eyes. Like kissing with your eyes open, Sam thought. But then again, why didn't people kiss with their eyes open? Right there, an inch away from him, was everything that had first drawn him to Quinn. The way the afternoon sunlight streamed through the window and illuminated the green flecks in her honey eyes. The way it shone in her golden hair. She was mesmerizing.
"Keep your eyes open," he whispered, and leaned in to press his lips to hers. She was soft, so soft, and inviting. Neither one of them moved to deepen the kiss. Instead, they laid still, lips touching, eyes exploring. When she blinked, her eyelashes brushed his and she pulled away, giggling.
"Sam Evans, you are the weirdest boy I know," she exclaimed.
He frowned slightly, "I thought that's what you loved about me?"
"It is!" she laughed, "But why on earth did you want to do that?"
"I don't know," he replied honestly. "It just doesn't make a whole lot of sense, ya know? I'm kissing you because I love you and I adore you and I'm passionate about you. Why shouldn't you be able to see all that? If there's one time you should be able to see my soul, it's when I'm kissing you, right?"
"Only you," she said with a smile.
Rolling off of her back, she lifted herself so that she was laying directly on top of him. Her hands curled against his sides, and her head fit easily into the hollow of his collarbone. She breathed him in. Warmth, boy, and that lilac laundry detergent. It was becoming something like his signature scent. His strong arms wrapped around her, one hand gently pressing her lower back, the other holding her head to his chest. He was breathing so evenly, his chest rising and falling so smoothly, that after ten minutes of stillness, Quinn couldn't tell if he had fallen asleep.
"Sam?" she pulled back to look at him. His eyes were open.
"Mhm?"
"Oh, nothing. I just thought maybe you fell a—"
Cupping the back of her head and lacing his fingers into her hair, he pulled her face down inches from his, then raised himself to close the last inch of space between them. He covered her lips with his and reveled in the warmth that her small body was able to produce on top of him. A soft gasp escaped her when he captured her bottom lip between his and ran his tongue across it. Her chapstick tasted like bubblegum. He was fighting hard not to react in a way that would embarrass him, but the way her mouth melted when she parted her lips to allow him to enter her was making the heat rise in his bones.
Quinn felt the blush spreading across her cheeks. There was a time when she could make out with Sam and torture him with her chilled responses, but that time had passed. She would have to stop soon or she wouldn't be able to stop at all. But the way he moved against her lips and tongue was lighting her body on fire. He was aggressive, but not in the wet, sloppy, tonsil probing way Finn and Puck were. They kissed her like they wanted to devour her, like she was an object of their desire for them to consume until every last piece of her was gone. Sam kissed her like he was exploring her, experimenting with her, tasting her; like he wanted her to be able to explore and experiment and taste him too. She had always felt like boys wanted to take from her. With Sam, it was like he was offering himself to her, and wagering his whole heart that she would take him.
Quinn's elbows dug into Sam's chest as she used them to prop herself up. When she pulled back to take a breath, Sam knew she would be able to see the desire clouding his eyes. He couldn't help it. Her pale cheeks were flushed a rosy pink, her gently waving hair was mused, her eyes hooded, and that happy little yellow cardigan he loved so much had slipped down on her shoulder, exposing a small patch of smoldering skin. He reached up tentatively and slipped his fingers between the yellow cotton and her shoulder. She was burning. Running his hand along her arm, he pushed the cardigan down further until her arm was free of the sleeve.
Sitting up against the headboard, Sam wrapped his arms around Quinn's waist and pulled her tightly into his lap. He drew her close and pressed his lips to that newly exposed swath of skin. His mouth trailed hotly down her arm, inhaling the summer peach scent of her body wash. Quinn looked down at him, fascinated. She had always been so utterly in control of herself that she could turn the faucet of emotion on or off at will. She had experienced sexual desire before, and frustration. Especially since Beth's birth, everything had become especially sensitive down there. But this feeling was different. It was like when she looked down at him, she wanted to be part of him, and wanted him to be part of her.
After pressing a kiss to the crease of her elbow, he trailed his fingers over the strap of her dress. He looked up at her, pausing while his eyes begged her permission. She blinked and drew in a breath, biting down on her lower lip shyly. His fingers pushed the strap down her shoulder and his open mouth immediately covered the spot where the strap had previously lain. She felt his tongue on her skin and gentle suckling. Quinn gasped and gathered her hair over her other shoulder, out of his eyes. She shrugged out off her cardigan, which was still dangling from one arm.
Sam's lips traveled over her collarbone as his other hand reached to push down the remaining dress strap. By this point, Quinn could feel him distinctly between her legs. And the fragile cotton of her dampening panties was doing nothing to protect the delicate flesh beneath it from the rough friction of denim. She wriggled herself carefully, trying to discretely free herself from the deliciously torturous rubbing. But Sam trapped her. Wrapping his left arm firmly around her butt and his right around her back, he pulled her small body flat against his chest. His lips moved lightly over the soft skin at her throat while his fingers sought out the tiny clasp and zipper at the back of her dress. A faint whimper escaped her lips.
The zipper crawled slowly down her back until she felt his hand pause at the base of her spine. The kisses and suckles at her neck stopped, and Sam leaned back, resting his head against the wall. Quinn placed her hands on his chest and supported herself in his lap as he slowly peeled her dress down away from her chest. Sam's lips parted and he drew in a shaky breath. Quinn blushed as he stared at her, unmoving. He had seen her naked before, sort of, but everything had happened so fast and he had been so drunk that he really hadn't taken the time to drink in the sight of her perfect form. Now, with the helpless dress pooled around her waist, Sam couldn't help but notice that she was absolutely spectacular.
He slipped the dress up over her head and let it fall to the floor beside them, leaving her exposed, straddling his lap in just a pair of cotton panties that were no longer doing much to conceal her. He touched the trembling fingertips of his right hand to the side of her breast. They were small but full and exquisite, the pert pink buds of her nipples already tugging with her arousal. Brushing his thumb over one, he was fixated and couldn't wait anymore. He lowered his head to her breast, his lips curling around her nipple, sucking it in slowly. His tongue flicked across the hard nub, eliciting a moan from her, and he enjoyed the feel of its roughness against his sensitive lips. He grazed his teeth along it and gently tugged. When he pulled back to examine it, he was fascinated by the ruddy color it had turned under his manipulations.
His left hand inched its way down her navel.
"Sam?" came her timid whisper.
He hadn't meant to respond with a grunt, but apparently it was all his poor, fevered brain could muster.
"I, I feel naked."
"You are naked," he murmured, closing his eyes and returning his lips to the pale skin between her breasts. She twisted her fingers into his hair and gently tugged his head back so that he was forced to look up at her. He eyes were foggy, and he looked as if he was a child on Christmas morning being told he needed to wait until after dinner to open presents. Distracted by her body displayed before him, he was having an impossible time concentrating.
"Yeah, but . . . but you're not, and I feel—"
Before Quinn could even finish her sentence, Sam scooped her up in his arms and shimmied off the bed. Depositing her gently on her back in a cloud of pillows, he tore his shirt up over his head and made quick work unbuckling his belt. Any insecurities he had about his body or his scars flew out the window in the interest of getting back to his beautiful treasure as quickly as possible. Unbuttoning his worn jeans and pushing them down over his hips, he stood before her in a pair of black boxer briefs that clung tightly to his painfully hard erection.
Quinn pressed her thighs together. Everything about him was perfect. The way his hair fell across his eyes. The way his pale skin flushed across his collarbone. The way his abs clenched tightly when he was aroused. The long line of muscle running down his thighs. The curvature of his ass. His substantiality and hardness. The unintentional pout of his lips. The way he looked at her like she was the only thing he could see and ever would see. The tingling was becoming unbearable, and she didn't want to touch herself, but if he didn't get back in bed with her soon . . .
Sam crawled back onto the bed, easing himself between Quinn's legs. Resting on his knees, he held his hips above hers as he cradled her to kiss her deeply. He could feel the heat and moisture radiating from her core against his abdomen. Unable to stand the deprivation of his touch, Quinn linked her heels around his lower back and pulled herself up to meet his hips. The incredible pressure of his hard length against her sopping panties nearly made her scream. He groaned into her mouth as his body ground into hers. Shaking his head like a horse, he pulled back. His pupils were dilated. Not yet. Not yet.
His mouth trailed hot, open kisses down Quinn's navel, savoring the taste of her. She was slim, but so, so soft, and there was still just a tiny bit of pudge from where she had carried a baby below her belly button. He paused when he reached the thin band of her panties, noticing that she was trembling slightly.
"Are you ok?" he asked, looking up. He had grown enough in the past few months that he was able to separate sexuality as a feeling and a concept from his only experience with it. But what stuck with him was that he never, ever wanted Quinn to feel fear or pain with him.
Quinn nodded quickly, biting her lower lip and hoping that he would keep going without her having to ask him to. Gently gripping her upper thighs in his large hands, he parted her legs. The fabric of her panties was so thoroughly dampened that he could clearly see the outline of her delicate lips through them. He traced his finger down between them and his breath caught at the whine she produced in response.
Tucking his thumbs into her panties, Sam lifted her hips from the bed and slid the last remaining article of clothing down over her knees. When the panties had been discarded, he repositioned himself to kneel in front of her and placed his hands on her knees. Very slowly, he pressed her thighs down to the bed until she was laid bare before him, her pink, glistening folds spreading like flower petals. Sam knew his brain wasn't built to handle this. He was so hard he felt like he would break, but at the same time, he was curious and fascinated. He had never really seen her before, well, any woman for that matter, except in like health books but that was . . . no, not even close to the same . . . she was spectacular.
Quinn was shivering all over and fighting the urge to cover her breasts. She felt so open and vulnerable, and it was scary, but the way Sam looked at her, that look like he was absolutely amazed by her, made her want to be that very thing that he thought was so incredible.
Sam dipped a finger between her labia, watching as the full, blushing flesh responded to his touch. He spread them easily and ran his finger over the small, engorged nub he found between them, sending Quinn into a fit of whimpers and shaking. Ohh, so that's what . . . ok . . . yeah, good to know. Leaning down between her legs, his lips inches from her body, Sam inhaled her. The scent was so completely feminine, yet with a heat that betrayed her desire, and Sam couldn't help but think that this is what a woman was meant to smell like, not flowers or cupcakes or whatever. It made him want her so badly.
Cautiously, he let his tongue flick out over her folds. He was surprised to find that she tasted exactly how she smelled—sweet and girly and needy. A bit bolder, her pressed his tongue between her lips and traced it along the length of her, from the tightness of her opening to that pretty pink pearl that made her scream when touched. Loving the powerful way it made her react, Sam wrapped his lips around her clit and sucked, rubbing his tongue against the sensitive surface. This time, Quinn really did scream and her legs began to shake. Cool.
"Sam," she gasped, tapping lightly at the back of his head nestled between her legs.
But he was too distracted by the amazing way her body was responding. The pleasure was too intense, too extreme, too fast, too sudden, and Quinn was beginning to panic as she felt her body spinning out of her control. She tapped him harder, faster, trying to grab his attention.
"Sam!" she finally shouted at him, "Sam!" She tapped the back of his head so rapidly that if she hit him any harder, it would hurt him. When he pulled away, the relief was immediate and Quinn sighed.
Sam looked up at her, eyes wide with shock, lips glistening adorably with her wetness. Quinn wondered if Sam would ever grow out of looking like a puppy, but she secretly hoped not.
"What's wrong?" he asked, a note of fear creeping into his voice. "Did I hurt you?"
"No. No," she panted, trying to regain her breath. "Just, that's really, that's really intense. Too good."
"Too good?" Sam asked, confused. Quinn knew a boy couldn't possibly understand the concept of too good, but he would have to learn.
"Yes. Too good. You, um, you have to go slower. Be gentle with it. It's really sensitive and if you don't build up to it, it's like everything crashes."
Sam paused, thinking. "Isn't that good, though?"
"No, Sam."
Determined to get it right, Sam ran the concept through his mind one more time and lowered his mouth back to his target, this time licking long trails along her labia and slowly circling her clit. He was rewarded this time with soft, close-lipped moans and her fingers tugging appreciatively at his hair. His eyes flicked up at her as his tongue and lips built a fire within her. Damn, this boy was freakin' hot. He wasn't trying to be seductive; if he would have tried, it probably would have been laughable. But the way he looked at her, blue-green eyes burning passionately up at her through strands of light blond hair, searching for the reaction on her face, wanting to make sure he was pleasing her properly, it all made him undeniably, irresistibly sexy.
Quinn's hands flew behind her head to clench into the bed sheets when Sam's long middle finger pressed slowly, deeply inside her. She wriggled desperately, struggling to not clench her thighs around his face. His finger swirled around inside her while his tongue flicked slowly over just the tip of her over-stimulated button. Looking up at her for her approval, Sam eased a second finger in, stretching her. Quinn writhed, on the verge of tears; not tears of pain, but tears of confusion at not being able to control herself. She wasn't used to being pushed so close to the edge. She wasn't used to having an edge. Or she kept herself so far from it that it might as well have not existed at all. She kept herself safe, under control, always. But she was under his control now. And it was the realization that this was ok, that she was safe to let go with him and let him control her, that made her give herself up to him. She was crashing.
"Sam," she panted, gasping for air, "Sam I, I . . ." but it was way too late for words as her orgasm ripped through her, throwing her tiny frame.
Sam stayed with her until she calmed, then pulled back, lifting himself up on his knees. He was kind of a little bit confused. Was that . . . what he thought it was?
"Quinn?" he asked quietly, as if he was waking her from a deep sleep. He watched the rise and fall of her breasts. "Was that?"
She nodded, holding her arms out for him to crawl into. "Come kiss me."
Sam clambered up into her arms, resting his head against her breast. He breathed in deeply as she ran a hand through his hair, her other hand caressing his cheek. He was glad they were taking a break, even if just for a few minutes, because he felt like if his heart beat any faster, he would explode. Quinn dipped two fingers under his chin and raised his face up to meet hers. Keeping her eyes open and gazing into his, she pressed a gentle kiss to his moist lips.
"I love you, Sam," she breathed, smiling against his lips.
"I love you too," he whispered.
"I want to feel you."
Sam sat up again, his back pressed against the headboard. He watched as Quinn's hand brushed down his tightened torso and paused at the waistband of his boxer briefs. He had seen her, all of her, so there was no longer any point in trying to hide the hardness barely concealed under the stretching fabric. Quinn peeled back the elastic waistband an inch, allowing him to spring free against his stomach. Wow, um, yeah. This was pretty much a first for her too. When she and Puck had sex, she was drunk, and about a minute after saying ok, he was inside her. Then when he was done, his pants were back on and that was that. Fascinated, she reached into his shorts and wrapped her fingers around his shaft. Sam tensed and groaned, thumping his head back against the wall. He was so hard, so hot under her touch; she was amazed how intensely his body could react, and that it was all for her.
"Take these off please?" she asked shyly.
He stood next to the bed and hooked his thumbs in the band of his underwear. A blush rose in his cheeks and he fiddled awkwardly, stretching and releasing the elastic. He stared at his feet.
"Can you, um, could you look away for a second?"
"Seriously?" Quinn asked, the surprise clear in her voice.
"I'm kinda a little embarrassed."
"Sam, no," she answered, trying not to laugh and make him blush deeper. "You're fine. Come here."
She sunk a single finger into his shorts and tugged him over so that he was standing between her knees. Gripping his hips, she slid her hands down the length of his thighs, pushing the boxers down with them. He was clearly uncomfortable, but he used every ounce of his will power to stand still and not cover himself up. Quinn had opened up, made herself vulnerable to him so that he could explore and enjoy her with his eyes; he would have to be just as brave and give himself to her. She wasn't making it easy though, the way she examined him. Her hands rested lightly on his lower back as her eyes scanned slowly from the mess of unkempt blond hair. down over his broad shoulders and chest, down the line of his abs, past the jagged scar, down the hard arrow of his hips, over the long thick erection that was so ready for her, down his thighs, his knees, all the way to his toes that still flipped when he was nervous.
"I don't disgust you?"
"What? What are you talking about? You're the hottest guy in school, you know that."
"I mean, because of," his eyes flickered down to the thick purple line traversing his lower stomach.
"Oh. No, Sam, of course not." She placed a hand on his shoulder and pulled him close to her, whispering in his ear in a low voice. "You look hot as fuck right now."
Sam looked at her, stunned. He had never heard Quinn use that kind of language before, and it was, well, really sexy. He crouched down, reaching for his wallet in the back pocket of his jeans, where he kept a condom just in case someday he got very, very lucky. Standing again, he handed it to Quinn. He looked down at his erection, standing straight up, as Quinn tore the foil and slowly rolled the latex down onto him. The sensation was incredible, and he prayed for the strength and reserve to make this last, even if it was just for a little bit.
Quinn crawled back onto the bed, laying on her back as Sam climbed over her. He held himself up on elbows and knees, his hips hovering between her legs. He reached a hand behind her head and lowered his mouth to hers as he rubbed his cock between her lips. She was still so wet, or had gotten wet again. Amazing. She flinched and shivered when the head made contact with that sensitive nub again. After positioning himself at her entrance, Sam wrapped his other arm under Quinn's lower back, pulling her tight against his body.
"You're sure you want to do this?" he asked, looking her straight in the eyes.
"Yessss," she moaned.
Very slowly, he began to press into her. This time, he studied her face for any signs of pain. Every time her nose started to wrinkle slightly, he stopped and waited until she relaxed. Those moments were rare, though, and for the most part, he sunk into her easily. She was so wet and well-worked from his fingers and his lips that she didn't seem to have any pain at all.
When he felt his hips lay flush with hers, he exhaled and tried to relax his tightly coiled body. His lips were trembling, so he pressed them against her neck to get them to stop. If he moved or she moved even a fraction of an inch, he was sure it would all be over before they even started. Earlier, when he was toying with his fingers inside her, she had felt hot and slick. After her orgasm, though, she felt much softer inside, still tight, but more like their bodies were melting together than colliding.
"Are you ok?" he murmured into her neck, not sure if he had formed complete words. She replied with a moan and dug her nails into his back. Lifting her legs, she wrapped them around his lower back and interlocked her heels. The shift in position opened up her hips and slid him an inch deeper inside of her, making him shudder. He pulled his face back from her neck and bit into his lip harshly, trying to keep his body responsive to his brain's commands.
When he felt like he was as close to under control as he would ever be, he pulled his hips back until only the head remained inside her then pressed back in. Goddamn she felt amazing. He tried again and began to establish a slow, steady rhythm with her. Sam picked his head up from Quinn's shoulder and stared down between their bodies. He had never really watched porn on the internet because his family didn't have a computer, and when they did, his dad would have beaten him to death with a Bible if he got caught, but now he understood why some guys were addicted to it. She looked so tight around him, like her body was stretching unnaturally to accommodate him, gripping him like a vice, and yet his shaft pumped in and out of her easily. He could see the clear, sticky evidence of her arousal coating him. Her lips were spread so wide around him that he could clearly see the bead of her clit standing just above his pumping cock, aching to be touched.
He reached down to touch it, but as soon as his fingers made contact, Quinn wailed and pulled his hand away.
"Don't you dare!" she groaned.
"Why?" he pouted.
"Remember, when, we, talked, about, too, much?" she panted, gasping for breath between his thrusts, "Well, that's, too, much."
Sam obediently placed his hand somewhere more innocuous, tangling it in her hair. Quinn's legs wrapped around his waist tighter and her nails were leaving angry red welts on his back. Even in her sexual delirium, though, she was conscious of avoiding his scar. Sam wasn't quite so considerate and sucked at her neck and collarbone so feverishly that the marks he was leaving were more than tiny love nips.
Sam was proud of himself for holding out this long—twenty minutes! he noted—but he was close, so very dangerously, painfully close. Quinn was writhing beneath him, her small breasts bouncing with each thrust, and he knew he would only be able to hang on for another minute, if that. What the hell, he thought, the devil passing into him. He slipped his hand down between them again and sought out that awesome little button with his thumb. Finding it, he began to rub the poor thing raw, fucking her with all of his strength.
"Sam! Sam! Goddamn you! I, I—"
Her pussy clenched around him unmercifully as she came, and he couldn't stand it any longer. Letting himself go, he shot into her powerfully then collapsed on top of her in a heaving, shaking mess. His broad frame covered her completely, and he hoped he wasn't crushing her, but he couldn't move.
"I hate you Sam Evans," Quinn groaned after a minute, drawing her fingers along his spine.
"You do?" he asked, picking himself up a bit from the bed to look at her intently.
"No," she sighed, picking at a few strands of hair that were sticking to his forehead with sweat. "When you make me feel like that, I hate you pretty much means I love you."
Sam was too weak for a giant smile, but he could manage a lopsided grin. "I love you too, Quinn."
Groaning, Sam rolled himself off of Quinn and disposed of the condom. It took less than a minute for him to handle that, but it was a minute that he hated not touching her. Lying back down on his side, Sam grabbed Quinn by the waist and the butt and pressed her tightly against him. She was limp like a doll, and her body easily curved to form against his. He pressed his forehead to hers and allowed their noses to brush. She could tell that something serious had passed over him by the way his normally bright eyes darkened.
"You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my life, Quinn," he said, taking her right hand and twisting the little gold ring on it. "You're still gonna let me marry you someday?" In about an hour, their little honeymoon would be over, and he needed to know.
"Yes, Sam," she smiled. "Someday, I will let you marry me."
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Well folks, that's it! I know this story started off as one thing and turned into something very different, but I appreciate all of you who stuck with it as it grew from a plan for four chapters of smut into, well, this. Tune back in for the epilogue, which I promise will be way more than a neat little wrap up.
