AN: Okay, this was an experiment of sorts. (Who am I kidding, I just need these two to make the hell up before I go completely nuts). I guess some may call it a little smutty - but I don't think I've pushed it quite that far (I rather think of it as... a nudge toward adventure sex :)
If you can be bothered, let me know if you think it works.
AN2: The story was re-opened as I think I'd really like to get the shaving scene out. No doubt, it'll come...eventually ;)
Disclaimer: As per Chapter 1
By the time they get inside for keeps things are even more super-charged between them (if that was even possible). There's a silence that is most definitely…not a silence, and Sam pretty much hasn't taken his eyes off her since before she first opened the front door.
(It took them three trips to and from the truck to unload Andy's shit – mostly because Sam carted her under one arm and juggled a suitcase at a time in the other).
They stand together now in her kitchen. Still glued at the hips, hands and hearts.
"Missed you" he blurts out; twenty shades of seriousness while he rearranges that hot stubbled face.
He's not exactly looking at her when he says it.
But then he does.
It's like he's waiting now – checking in, maybe cautiously checking her out. He's making sure she knows he means it - probably doesn't trust or think that she'll say it back.
"Sam…," Andy starts. They've been clutching at one another since the airport, so she takes a step back for this, still holds one of his hands:
"Jesus. Sam, I missed you too…".
Andy hears him breathe.
(Hears herself ask "okay?")
They have another stare-off after that: both sets of eyes raking over the others body and face.
He's smiling now though. Just small. Enough of a signal to let her know – he's sorta' ready to field anything else she may want to know.
(The hundred odd telephone conversations they had this past few months go flashing through her mind: an intricate web of detail that has spun tight a need in Andy that she just has to know more).
But.
Quite honestly, right now she just wants to fuck him. And she knows by the look of him, he really just wants that too.
(It's been a long stretch since that flying visit he made. 43 days to be exact.
Sure, they holed themselves up: four days of doing and saying a lot of shit that was a healthy contribution to getting them here.
But… that was surreal - some sort of honeymoon they should have had the first go around) -
Back here in Toronto: in Andy's kitchen? This here, this is real.
She wonders for a fleeting moment if he'll ask that question he asked a long time ago: "so, how do we start?"
He doesn't though, if anything he reads her mind and cuts that thought short- probably worried about making the same mistakes again.
Andy knows she sure as hell is.
Instead, he leans into her. "Come. With me. Right now. I have something you need". His breath is hot and raspy and ragged and his lips are right on her ear -
Shit.
Andy's body bucks right the fuck up. She thinks of joking about shaving brushes or boxing gloves, but for the life of her can't form the words. The only thing that is coherent in her brain when he hoists her up is that she wants his face – as is – all over every single inch of her.
She throws her head back as he carries her off to the bedroom; can't help but giggle and squirm at the way he squeezes her thigh.
He places her fairly gently on the bare bed, her legs dangling over the bottom mattress edge.
Andy kicks up a foot to his hip, curling her toes in the pocket that sometimes holds his badge. Sam grabs her ankle then, gives it a shake and insists to her jeans: "you guys are coming off.…NOW."
Things from there go gentle to crazy in about 3 seconds flat: A flurry of four hands yanking at fabric and flesh. From the corner of one eye she sees her panties fly across the room. The last thing she grabs at is her bra- the item he's so far managed to only get halfway off.
The air in the room is cool, but their buck-naked bodies? Obscenely hot.
It's Sam that slows it down again- leaning all the way up and over her. One careful hand of his is pulling her ponytail out, the other holding himself in a low push-up- some kind of attempt to keep himself at bay.
He is so, so…. so close though.
Andy feels everything that's happening to every muscle in his body without it even really touching her. His breath is hot and hard on her lips, his eyes not budging from her own.
The hand in Andy's hair continues down to tease the goosebumps that keep multiplying across her neck. Andy is revelling at this point, just letting herself feel his work- She comes to her senses only when she realises she isn't taking full advantage of this situation herself.
She makes a move on his shoulders – brushing her hands from there to his neck and face.
Andy realises just how tight she is holding him only when Sam declares through his squished up face: "you're beautiful," (looking himself like he's a goldfish on dope).
She's laughing hyena-like before she can stop; holding Sam tighter as he lunges full with his chest and kissing her neck like there is no tomorrow.
But the rollercoaster of physical emotional outlets that Andy has going on today has well and truly got the better of her. The stubble is tiiiiiccccckliiiiish, okay?
(Hysterics: she remembers the outbursts she had as a kid).
Sam, to his credit, seems undeterred. (More turned on maybe- if his breathing is anything to go by). And it seems like he's in for some fun himself…
Next things she knows they become some sort of crazy circus double act.
"Saaaaaaammmm!"
Andy finds herself (she swears to god) flipped in a backward handstand on the bed: her legs over his shoulders, hands grasping for traction on the un-sheeted bed.
What makes this more interesting (better) is that his cock is hard between her shoulder blades and his mouth is soft just north of her clit.
He's holding her lightly around the midsection: some pointed suggestion that she'll get the hint to play along….like… so he can move his hands about.
She does.
This can surely only last a while. For as athletic as they both are (god knows they've done some bendy stuff), Andy knows there are probably only so many handstand push-ups she can do to get the friction she needs before time… well, before time runs out.
Sam's on to her though. He pulls his face away and croaks out a simple "McNally: let me."
Before Andy can respond, Sam has his face in her again. His moist, warm tongue shooting over her clit; he's licking her from top to bottom- and stopping nowhere in between.
This time "Saaaaammmm," comes out in a whine. "I swear to god, I'll…"
(Fuck… screaming in her head, Andy's breath just won't let it all out.
It's an insane tease - no one was fooling anyone about how hard and/or wet they were throughout the entire lead up to this point).
"SamSamSam" Andy's gasping as he's finally settled his tongue all the way inside. His hands are just a gentle brush over her ribs – circular motions matching the rhythm he's set on her inside.
And there it is… again. Sam and the search for Andy's g-spot. (No fingers, no cock, no attention to clit, the g-spot adventure is somewhat of an extreme sport). New position: New challenge – for both of them.
(One time she convinced him to give her four orgasms in a row this way. Come to think of it, Sam convinced her to go for the first three. It wasn't until all that convincing was done that she ever thought it possible anyway…
Let's just say: no man or woman before had ever gone to the lengths that Sam had to prove that Andy could come more ways than one).
This time it hits her from who the fuck knows where. Her state of upside-downedness, and what has become Sam's erratic tongue have left her dizzy in the best possible way.
She does though.
Hard enough that everything inside every part of her has been unwound. He kind of had to catch her too… at least hold her firm for the minutes it takes for her to come down.
Andy feels her breath return as he rearranges her to somewhat of a normal position. She just lays there staring up at him – completely and utterly spent.
Sam, for his part, is slowly inching his way down, sliding them both all the way up the bed. He looks as though he is both smugly proud of himself – and stupidly pleased with her.
Andy can't say she blames him for that.
There are no holy molys or omgs that can follow this one up. She has absolutely nothing - aside the satisfying knowledge that they have only just…
(Re)begun.