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I do not own Glee or the characters, neither do I own Chasing Christmas Eve.

Mercedes walked into Sam's bathroom. The brownies were starting to wear off, leaving her tired and feeling bad about what she did to him.

She'd gotten accidentally high, and possibly a little obnoxiously sexually aggressive, and she'd forgotten their date.

"Son of a seacock," she said, disrobing and then bending to pick up the clothes she'd left on the floor.

They were wrinkled but they'd do, she thought, just as she heard Sam speak, his voice low and gravelly, like how it sounded whenever he was aroused.

"And cock isn't a bad word?" he asked.

Whirling to him, she caught the slow scan of his eyes, making her incredibly aware of what she was wearing.

Or rather, not wearing.

"Body parts aren't bad words," she said.

His expression made her hot in very specific places, that she now knew he could make very happy.

He scooped up the robe and handed it to her.

"Sorry," she said, clutching it to her. "I was just going to get dressed."

His gaze locked in on something behind her and he groaned before coming towards her.

"The mirror," he said, his voice still a full octave lower than usual, which meant it was almost inaudibly gruff, as he pulled the robe from her fingers, to wrap it around her shoulders.

Then, he waited while she slid her arms into the sleeves, before he belted it for her.

Mercedes craned her neck and grimaced, as she caught sight of the full-length mirror, that had most likely afforded Sam a hell of a view, especially when she'd bent over.

"Holy Hostess!" she said.

He chuckled, but his eyes were heated.

Very, very heated.

"I left to give you some privacy for your call," she said. "It seemed...private." 'And intense.'

"Forget the call." He stroked her hair from her temple. "You still hungry?"

She nodded, suddenly a lot sober and also a little unsure of herself and her footing here.

She'd come on pretty strong, and yet he hadn't made a move.

But in the times that they'd been together, it'd all been magic and she wanted more of that magic.

She'd hoped they'd continue to enjoy her last week in town to full capacity, but maybe he didn't feel the same way.

Mercedes clapped her hand to her mouth. She didn't realize she'd spoken that last part aloud, until Sam spoke.

"Mercedes. Look at me."

Nope. She didn't want to do that.

He pulled her against him, slid his fingers into her hair, and tugged her face up to his.

She tried to pull away, but he wasn't having any of it. He drew her as close as she could go.

"Oh," she breathed, feeling him hard as a rock against her.

"Yeah, proof positive. I want you so bad, that I no longer have any blood left in my brain. By now, you know that I'm not any more experienced at this navigating relationship stuff than you are, right? So maybe you could have some mercy on me for being a fumbling idiot. But I was trying to be a good guy tonight."

She found a laugh and he stared at her, the corner of his mouth quirking slightly.

"You think my condition is funny?" he asked.

"No, I think we're both idiots." She went up on tiptoes and kissed him. "I understand your restraint and while it's admirable, there's something you should know."

"What's that?" he asked.

"I want you to take advantage of me..."

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed into him.

"...and I want it bad too. I get that the proof of my wanting isn't as...evident as yours, but I'm quite certain you could find it, if you searched hard enough."

She was pretty sure he stopped breathing at that.

And so did she.

A moment ago, he'd taken a call that had plummeted his mood about a hundred degrees. And she was hoping to turn that around for him.

Slowly, she slid her hands beneath his shirt, feeling the hard planes of his abs, which made her quiver.

'Yum,' she thought and paused, thinking north or south? 'Both,' she decided, but once again, Sam sucked in a breath.

"You're still under the influence," he said, his voice very strained.

"Poor baby. So heroic and gentlemanly," Mercedes murmured.

'Sweet, but not necessary,' she thought.

She was a big girl...literally and figuratively, but she was also a careful girl.

And she needed this.

Needed him.

"I'm running at full capacity, Sam," she promised, humming in pleasure, when his hands went to her hips to rock them against his.

"How do you know?" he asked, his voice not quite steady, when her fingers continued to map his body.

"Well," she said thoughtfully, "I could prove it by walking a straight line or singing the alphabet or..." She ran her fingers down the front of his Levi's "...by getting you to talk about the phone call that seemed to bother you."

"Okay," he said, catching her hand in his. "So you are sober."

"Yep." Again, she went up on tiptoes, putting her mouth to his ear. "And extremely turned on. Take advantage of me, Sam? Pretty please?"

Sam held on to her hands and met her gaze.

"By my count, you have one week left here in San Francisco."

This surprised her. He'd been keeping track.

"Yes."

"And we've knocked out everything on your list. Except for number ten."

She stilled, her body quivering.

"Number ten?" she asked, like she wasn't clear what he was talking about.

His hot glance said nice try.

"You remember. The wild, passionate, up-against-the-wall, forget-your-own-name love affair, that makes you weak in the knees when you think about it."

He smiled and went on.

"But a short love affair, really short, because you don't have time or energy to keep that level of sex up, much less maintain a relationship."

Mercedes stared at him.

"You remembered it word for word?"

His green eyes were badass sexy, as he let go of one of her hands to reach for the bow he'd just tied at her waist, slowly pulling on it, until it gave.

The robe loosened and her nipples went instantly hard.

"Be sure, Mercedes," he said, his mouth against hers. "Be real sure."

At that, Mercedes slid her hands into his hair.

Having this man inside her again?

Knowing that these memories, would have to keep her warm in the months ahead, back in New York?

She'd never been more sure of anything in her life.

"I'm one hundred percent sure," she said and shrugged out of the robe, letting it fall to the floor.

"Dear God Mercedes!" Sam said, his voice was like velvet as he pulled her in closer, his hands skimming down her back to cup her ass. "I missed this."

"It's been like twenty-four hours," she replied, giggling.

"It feels like a lifetime. You're so warm and soft."

"Soft?" she asked.

"It's a good thing," he murmured, dipping his head, letting his hot, open mouth, skim along her throat and her shoulder. "The very best thing. You're gorgeous."

Mercedes squirmed.

"Are you going to talk all the way through this?" she asked.

He huffed out a soft laugh and took a bite of her shoulder.

"Yeah. I think so. God...look at you." One big warm hand skimmed up her side and cupped a breast. "You're perfect."

"Not...perfect," she managed.

"Perfect to me."

The words melted her.

It was also hard to argue with him, with his hands caressing her so deliberately.

She was about three beats from coming and he hadn't even lost his clothes yet.

That had to change...and quick.

Mercedes got Sam's shirt open and shoved it off his broad shoulders, so that she could touch him skin-to-skin.

He shucked his pants and when he was as naked as she, he snaked an arm around her waist, lifting her up against him, so that her legs could encircle his hips.

Then he took them on the move.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"My bed," he said. "The bathroom counter isn't going to do it for me."

"Too hard?"

"Too cold." He took a couple of long strides and threw them both onto the bed. "You're not going to get cold on my watch," he said, in a thrillingly rough voice.

"No? Then what am I going to get?"

"Lucky. Very lucky."

Sam lowered himself over Mercedes, until every part of them was touching and then finally, he kissed her.

And not the light teasing kisses from before. This kiss was raw, shattering and intense, the kind of kiss that stopped hearts and melted brains, as his hands roamed her body, igniting fires everywhere he touched.

He moved lower, and urged her thighs open, skimming a light touch over her heated flesh with his lips, and she nearly burst into flames right then.

"Sam..."

In answer, he slowed, pulled back the heat with deliberate control and she almost cried.

She tightened her hands in his hair and tried to direct him, but he just gave a low knowing laugh.

He knew what he was doing, and then to prove it, he did it again, taking her to the very edge before pulling back.

"I hate you," she finally gasped.

"No, you don't. I'm heroic and gentlemanly," he said, giving her back her own words.

Not that there was anything gentlemanly, about what he was doing to her with his mouth. And especially when, the more desperate she became, the more patient he became.

He'd memorized her body, or so it seemed.

He knew exactly where and how to touch her, to make her putty in his hands. And where to not touch, apparently determined to make her beg to be finished off.

"Son of a bumblebee, you're missing on purpose!" Mercedes whined.

With a deep laugh, Sam dragged his mouth along her body again, slow, hot, deliberate kisses, his systematic torment of her body, leaving her writhing against him, until finally, he let her go, let her come apart at the seams, shattering into a million pieces.

While she was still panting and staring up at the ceiling in shock, at how out of control he'd had her, he crawled up her body and brought his lips back to hers.

"You still coherent?" he asked, pushing her hair off her damp forehead.

"No," she said, gasping for air. "But don't let that stop you."

At some point he'd found a condom. Then, the mouth that had just taken her to heaven, slowly curved, as he made himself at home between her legs, a question in his eyes.

Because she couldn't speak, Mercedes nodded and tightened her grip on him.

"Yes."

'God, yes! Now. Yesterday. Tomorrow!'

'Always...'

Shoving that last thought deep, she gathered him into her arms, arching up to meet him halfway.

He didn't close his eyes and neither did she, so they stared at each other, their breath blending, as he entered her.

"How about now," he murmured. "Still with me now?"

"Stop asking questions and move!"

His shoulders shook with laughter, but he did as she asked.

He moved.

And sweet mother of pearl, how the man moved.

He moved deeply within her.

He moved slowly within her.

He moved harder within her.

And he moved faster within her.

And in a shockingly short time, he had her crying out his name, sensations and emotions slamming blissfully together, as their bodies did the same.

And this time when she lost control, he finally did too.

Afterwards, when he went to shift his weight off her, she tightened her grip on him, not ready to let go yet.

With a wordless comforting murmur, Sam slid an arm beneath her, rolling them, until he was on his back and she was all but poured over him.

'Get up and go downstairs to your place,' her brain said. 'Before you get used to this.'

'Oh please just one more minute,' her body said.

And her body won.

Stay safe!