Thank you for your continued support. I appreciate it.

I do not own Glee or the characters, neither do I own Head Over Heels.

"The severity of the itch is inversely proportional to the ability to reach it."

Mercedes Jones

Mercedes inhaled the salty air coming off the water and the glorious scents of spruce and pine from the woods. It was delightful and so was the man trying to give her the bum's rush down the hill.

"We could just free the essentials," she said breathlessly.

"Yes, but it's my essentials I'm worried about," Sam replied.

He was following her down, climbing with the agility of someone much lighter and smaller than his size.

"I don't want anything freezing off."

She laughed.

"It's not cold enough."

"Says the woman who doesn't have a part to freeze off."

"And here I thought you were so tough."

"That's an illusion."

He hopped to the sand and then, because apparently she wasn't moving fast enough for him, he snatched her off the rock himself, for one more bone-melting kiss.

Then, he held her by the hand and was pushing her towards the stairs.

Sam seemed to be in a hurry, Mercedes thought, but she was on board with that, as she too picked up the pace.

But that, combined with her undeniable excitement, started to work against her, because, after a few steps, she felt her chest tighten.

'Dammit!' she swore internally.

"Sam..."

He took one look at her, swore under his breath, then lifted her into his arms and took the stairs as if she weighed nothing at all.

Laughing breathlessly, she said,

"Don't wear yourself out. I have plans for you."

"You just concentrate on breathing," he said, his expression dialed to fiercely intent male. "Inhaler?"

"Got it!" she said, pulling it from her pocket, then used it, as he carried her through his backyard and passed the shower.

"Uh..." Mercedes said, looking longingly at the shower-head. "But..."

"Bed," Sam said firmly.

She wriggled her gritty toes.

"I'm sandy."

"You're going to be hot and bothered in a minute," he promised and shouldered open his back door.

Well, she was already hot and bothered, and a shiver of anticipation raced through her, as he carried her through the house so fast, she could barely see.

"Hey," she said. "You painted some more..."

This was all she got out, before she went sailing through the air, her anticipation level now extremely high.

Mercedes landed on a huge bed, and before she'd even bounced once, Sam was on her.

He'd removed his Kevlar vest and shirts again, dropping them to the floor with his other gear.

Taking both her wrists in one hand, he raised them above her head and pinned them there, as he settled over her.

She wriggled and lightly tugged to see if he'd free her hands, but he didn't.

"Not yet."

"No?" she asked.

"No." He nipped at her chin. "We need to talk first, and if you touch me, I'll forget what I want to say."

This surprised her.

"The big, bad sheriff has a weakness?"

"When it comes to you, more than one," he admitted readily and lightly squeezed her wrists, silently telling her to hold still and stop squirming.

But Mercedes couldn't help it.

He was so nice to squirm against...warm and hard in all the interesting spots, his strength barely held in check.

"You don't really want to talk right now, do you?" she murmured. "Really?"

Sam let out a breath and dropped his forehead to hers.

"Hell, no! But I have to ask. You said before you couldn't have orgasms..."

"Which you proved wrong," she reminded him.

"Yes, and you paid the price." He paused. "So you don't usually..."

"Not in mixed company, no. But I can give myself one, if I concentrate on staying real calm and still."

At that, Sam's eyes dilated, turning almost black.

"That's a hell of a contrast. Trying to come, while staying calm and still."

She shrugged.

"I manage." Fascinated by the way he was looking at her, as if he wanted to gobble her up whole, Mercedes heard herself say, "I could...show you. If you wanted."

"Yes," he said very seriously. "I want you to show me."

Sam eased up off Mercedes and sat at her hip.

And suddenly a little shy about this venture that had been her idea, she hesitated.

"Here, let me help," he said. And in five seconds flat, he had her out of her shoes, socks, and jeans.

He stared down at her sunshine-yellow, boy-cut panties and then ran a finger over the smiley face on her mound.

"Show me, Mercedes."

Closing her eyes, Mercedes slid her hand into her panties, and a very rough, male sound of appreciation rumbled next to her.

Then, Sam encircled her wrist with his warm fingers and her eyes flew open.

"Slow," he commanded. "Real slow and easy."

"I didn't say slow," she said. "It doesn't have to be slow. Just calm."

"Lots of calm, then." His thumb scraped over the pulse at the inside of her wrist. "But let's try slow and easy, too."

Mercedes knew that he didn't want an ER run. But the problem was, she wasn't a slow-and-easy sort of girl. She was more of a hurry-up-before-she-had-an-asthma-attack sort of girl.

"Fast is better. That way I have a shot at it," she said.

"Slow and easy," Sam repeated firmly and then slid his fingers beneath hers, so that he was the one touching her.

Gently, ever so gently, that she wanted to weep, he hovered over her and glided his fingers over her core.

Back and forth.

Then again.

And again.

Teasing and arousing her.

Her moan echoed around them, and then it was her turn to grip his wrist. What he was doing was magic, but she needed...

"More," she said.

"Shh," Sam said and kept up that light touch, opening her a little more with each pass of those diabolical fingers, spreading her wetness until she was writhing beneath him.

Then he just...stopped.

Gasping, Mercedes sat up with a start.

"You okay?" Sam asked, his eyes glued to her face.

When she nodded, he put a hand over her chest and nudged her flat on her back again.

"Good," he said. "Keep it slow and..."

"If you say easy, I'm going to hurt you." He ignored her threat.

"I researched asthma online," he said, so quietly, that it took a moment for his words to sink in.

Or maybe, it was because his fingers were driving her to the point of madness, affecting her ability to process.

But, had he actually taken enough interest to research her problem?

It meant something, it had to, but she wasn't sure what.

That he liked her?

Okay, she could deal with that, because she liked him, too.

But it could've also been fear based. Her almost dying had scared him.

'Yes, of course. That made perfect sense.'

"I learned that the key..." Sam said, "...is relaxation and having a partner that pays close attention to your breathing patterns. I'm paying close attention, Mercedes."

His smile was both sexy and reassuring and made her chest tighten, until she thought it might burst.

"Hey," he said, his gaze narrow with concern. "Are you..."

"I'm fine. It's not the asthma. It's..." She moistened her lips. "...you. And I don't want to stop."

Sam's gaze immediately went back to her poised hand.

"Then don't," he said a little thickly.

Mercedes closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Or as deep as she was able to.

She wasn't feeling asthmatic...yet...but she did feel a little exposed.

"Maybe you could tell me a dirty story," she whispered and heard his soft chuckle.

"Okay," Sam murmured. "There's this beautiful, gutsy, chocolate diva..." He leaned over her on the bed. "...she has curves and an ass that drives me insane."

"Curves? She's chunky, then?"

"She's perfect." Sam unbuttoned her top and spread it open. And she felt his lips on her collarbone, then on the swell of a breast. "And she has this way of moving, so confident and sure of herself...it's sexy as hell."

"Sometimes..." Mercedes whispered, "...she fakes the confidence."

"My story," Sam said and kissed her nipple through the silk of her bra.

His mouth was hot, and she arched up into it, moving her hand faster.

Her breath hitched, but his fingers settled over hers, stilling her movements, reminding her about the slow-and-easy decree.

And before she could object, he'd tugged the cup of her bra down with his teeth and was running his tongue over her bared nipple.

"You were pierced," Sam whispered against Mercedes' skin, kissing the pebbled peak.

"Y...yes."

"Why?" he asked.

There was no recrimination in his voice, no judgment. Only curiosity.

"I don't know," she lied.

And he lifted his head to meet her gaze, not pressing, just waiting in that way he had, that made her want to spill all her secrets.

"Sometimes, I can't...feel," she said softly.

"Here?" His fingers closed over her nipple, plucking the peak like an instrument, and she quivered.

"No." Mercedes shifted his hand to her heart. "Here. I couldn't feel anything, and I needed to."

His gaze dipped to her hand, then rose back to her eyes, his own filled with what might have been understanding.

But she wasn't used to that. And anyway, how could he really understand?

He didn't give a shit about what anyone thought. He could do whatever he wanted, when he wanted.

He could run, climb, even have wild animal sex, she thought.

"Did it help?" Sam asked quietly. "The pain?"

Mercedes waited to feel the anxiety build in her chest, festering and clawing at her, until she shut down in self-preservation.

But she was looking right into his green eyes, and there was still no judgment, nothing, but a simple acceptance, and she didn't get anxious at all.

"Yes, it helped," she whispered. "At the time."

"And now?"

"I don't need the pain anymore."

"Good."

Sam flicked his tongue between her breasts and worked his way south.

Mercedes' hand was still in her panties, her fingers where she needed them, moving, in what felt like tandem with his mouth, making her arch up into him.

"Still pierced here, I see," he murmured against her trembling belly.

"I l-like how it looks with my bathing suit. God, Sam."

He settled a hand over hers again and slowed her down.

"Easy," he murmured.

"If you say that one more time, I'm going to easy your..."

He hooked his fingers into her panties and pulled them down her legs, cutting off her train of thought.

Then, he wedged his broad shoulders between her thighs, getting up close to all her secrets.

A groan wrenched from his throat.

"Mmm. You're so wet."

Mercedes had always assumed that she could make herself come, because there wasn't a lot of aerobic action to a self-serve, at least, not the way she did it.

There was no stress or performance anxiety involved, just a slightly boring but gratifying release.

But she was definitely feeling a little breathless now, with Sam holding her legs open, watching her with such avid fascination.

Her chest tightened even more, and she realized this wasn't going to work.

"Sam..."

"Yeah, I know. You're not very good at following directions." He took her hands in his, pulled them to her sides and held them there. "Don't move."

"I..."

He licked the moisture between her legs, and she gasped.

"Keep breathing," he murmured against her skin. "You're holding your breath. In and out, Mercedes. Slow."

"I can't."

"I thought that word wasn't in your vocabulary."

She huffed out a faint laugh, but his hot mouth was still working her, making her tremble, and his name tumbled from her lips, just as she slid her hands from his and fisted them in his hair.

Sam stayed the course, humming Mercedes' name against her, and making her toes curl.

And Mercedes held on, tightening her grip, but he couldn't be rushed.

Whenever she tried, he merely captured her wrists again, and pinned her legs with his heavy body to hold her still.

"Shhh," he told her and then continued, slow, and easy, driving her right out of her mind.

"Please...Sam please..."

But her entreaty fell on deaf ears.

He did his own thing at his own pace, gently massaging and teasing and coaxing her right into a blissful explosion, that both shocked and rocked her to the very core.

And while she trembled and shuddered back to Planet Earth, he gave her one last soft kiss down there, and moved back up her body to study her face closely.

"Okay?" he asked.

"If I was any more okay, you'd have to peel me off the ceiling."

He smiled, but his eyes were still hot, lines of tension bracketing his mouth.

"I really am okay," Mercedes said, stunned, to realize it was true. She was breathing heavily but not feeling wheezy. "Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Your turn."

At that, she pushed him down to the bed.

Leaning over him, she took his wrists and forced his hands up to the headboard and curled his fingers around the spindles.

Then, she lowered the timber of her voice to imitate his.

"Slow," she commanded. "Real slow and easy."

He smiled.

"But I don't have asthma..."

"You're not very good at following directions either. I suppose I'll have to take over."

Sam raised a challenging brow.

He was sprawled beneath Mercedes, wearing only his uniform trousers, his body warm and strong, his every muscle taut.

'God, so many muscles,' she thought. 'Even his feet are sexy. Lord, I have it bad.'

"I could look at you all day," she whispered.

A flicker of surprise came into his eyes and then heat.

"Look all you want," he said. "But first let me..." He let go of the headboard to adjust himself with a grimace.

"Yeah, those pants do look pretty uncomfortable," she said.

Batting his hand away, she popped open the button herself.

"Careful," Sam said, when she reached for the zipper.

"Easy, Sheriff. This won't hurt a bit."

Mercedes unzipped Sam with great care and then tugged the pants down his long legs, watching, as his engorged member sprang free.

Sitting back on her haunches, she smiled.

"Happy to see me?" she asked.

Then, she leaned forward and kissed him on the tip of his very impressive erection, making his low reply unintelligible.

He rose onto his elbows to watch her, reaching to glide his fingers into her hair, but like he'd done to her, she shoved him back to the bed.

So he gripped the headboard again, tight enough to turn his knuckles white.

"Christ, Mercedes! You're killing me."

'Ditto,' she thought, transfixed, as the sight of him spread out for her viewing pleasure, so perfectly in proportion from head to toe and all the glorious spots in between.

Wrapping her fingers around the base of his hot, silky length, she licked him delicately, then not so delicately, until he shuddered and slid his fingers back into her hair to pull her away.

"God, Mercedes. You're going to make me..."

"That's the idea," she replied.

"Not yet." He grabbed her, hauling her up his taut, heated body, until she was straddling him. Then, she gave a little wriggle, to get him right where she wanted him.

"Oh no, you don't." Gripping her hips, Sam held her still. "I want you to stay with me this time."

"I'm with you," she promised. "All the way with you. My lungs are good, see?" She inhaled as deep as she could and let it out.

"Good. Keep doing that, keep breathing," he ordered softly. "I'll do the rest."

With his biceps flexing, Sam lifted Mercedes up and then allowed her to sink onto him.

She groaned on contact, as exquisite pleasure washed through her the moment he slid home.

"We'll go at your pace," he said, sounding a little rough and strained. Then, he loosened his grip on her.

'Hmm...my pace,' she thought.

Normally, she'd kick into gear, desperate to get to the finish before it was too late and she couldn't.

But he'd already proven that she didn't have to rush.

So for the first time, she set an achingly slow rhythm, letting herself get lost in his eyes as she moved on top of him, feeling each emotion, as it shimmered through her.

'Is this love or lust?' she asked herself internally.

But it was hard to tell.

For all she'd done in her life, Mercedes had little experience with either. But it'd be nice to know which had driven them to this, which was fueling the passion between them, suspending her in a timeless beat.

Sam's chest was rising and falling quickly, as if he'd just finished a run. And watching him fight to control himself, was a huge turn-on for Mercedes.

It was her, she realized, that was making him pant.

Her eyes drifted closed, as she continued to ride him into sweet oblivion.

Feeling his large hands running up and down her tepid body, as she angled herself to feel every torturous inch of him, she realized she was creeping towards a climax.

She opened her eyes and found his green ones staring intensely at her and her heart squeezed.

There was something there...

Concern, yes. But there was more...so much more.

She wanted to close her eyes again, when she felt herself falling blissfully over the edge, but something in Sam's eyes held her, as a sweet climax washed over her.

Then, she heard herself cry out, and then Sam's low, ragged answering groan, as he joined her.

When she opened her eyes, she was lying on top of him, clinging to him with a quiet desperation that surprised her.

"You okay?" he asked, his incredibly sexy voice rumbling up from his chest, where her face was plastered.

Since words were still beyond her, Mercedes nodded.

And he lifted her head to look into her eyes.

"Sure?"

She licked her lips.

"Yes," she managed in a croak.

"Okay, good. Then maybe, you could loosen the grip just a little?"

It was then, she realized, it wasn't just her arms and legs gripping him, but her fingers were digging into him.

"Oh! I'm so sorry!"

She started to sit up, but he tightened his grip on her.

"Just the nails," he murmured, his hands soothing her and holding her still. "The rest stays."

Mercedes relaxed again.

Actually, she slumped bonelessly against Sam.

She had no idea how much time passed, but when she surfaced again, Sam was cradling her against his side, lightly stroking her back from the nape of her neck, down her spine, over her bottom and the backs of her thighs, then up again as their breathing slowed.

'Love or lust?' she asked herself again.

And if she asked him, would he have any more of an idea than her?

No. She didn't want to know. Because, maybe it was a little bit of both. And besides, it wasn't a question that needed answering now.

She would just take their odd mix of frustration, heat, affection, and desire and enjoy it...for as long as it lasted.

Mercedes lifted her head again to look at Sam.

His eyes were closed, his body relaxed, and all the tension gone from his face.

As if feeling her gaze, he opened his eyes.

"It's good to be inhaler worthy," he said.

She grinned.

"I didn't even need it, not during, not once."

Reaching up, he tugged on a strand of her hair, his mouth quirking into a smile.

"I noticed."

The joy of it surged through her, and she sat up, unable to contain herself.

"I got an orgasm, and it didn't cost me a thing."

"I'm a regular blue-light special," he said, shaking his head in amusement. "And you even got a twofer."

This was true.

"And no asthma attack," she murmured, still marveling at that. "Which means, no ER visit."

'And nothing to stop us,' she thought.

Clearly realizing this at the same time, Sam rolled her beneath him, pressing her into the mattress, his expression dialed to Wicked Intent.

He was hard again, and Mercedes shivered with anticipation, again.

"Again, Sam?"

"Oh yeah," he said, dipping his head to kiss her breast. "And then again."

Stay safe!