AN:

There is no Dasey in this chapter. None at all. This is just Sam, unwinding and reconnecting with his girl after the attack on the Venturi estate because Sammy deserves a love story too.

Should I have made a series/spin-off? Yes, probably. But that's a lot of work for this small of an update.

Please feel free to skip if you're not interested in his 'story line.'

It had been a long, chaotic… bloody day. And surprisingly, Sam had made it out without firing a single shot.

Strange .
Borderline disappointing, even. But still, he was thankful to see another sunset.

Especially because he was ending the night with her.
And he had recently decided that any day that ended with her wrapped around him like a vice was a decent day at worst.

Greedy hands pulled him into her bedroom without hesitation and a whole lot of strength. His own hands were just as needy, pulling her against him as if he were jealous of the space that dared come between them. Like a choreographed dance they had done many times before, they stripped each other out of every piece of clothing; their mouths clashed in hungry, raw kisses, only separating long enough to pull her top off. Being with her was passionate and all consuming in a way he had never experienced before with anyone else.

When had they gotten to that point where she was a balm to his chaos, he wasn't sure. Maybe it was somewhere between her fingers slowly combing through his hair in bed cuddling, or her sweet voice telling him all about her day, or maybe it had something to do with the taste of her on his tongue. Somewhere along the line, she had become important to him, a safe space. And he wasn't sure he had ever had one of those…

They had slept together before, but this time was different. This was the first time they had been put through a life or death situation. A trial by fire that thankfully they both made it out of. So yeah, it felt different this time.

As soon as her back touched the mattress her hips chanted up impatiently searching for his. He chuckled, wrapping an arm underneath her, pulling her up and lining them up perfectly. He pressed his forehead against hers, his eyes pouring into her before giving in to their desires and sliding right in. They didn't need any more foreplay; both needing it just as bad. Together they sighed in response, the urgency they had been wrapped up in calming the moment their bodies were connected.

It was as if their minds knew that they were together, in every sense of the word, so they could finally relax.

Her hands cradled his face, her jaw dropped in relief. She was breathtaking.

He didn't want to rush it, not after the day they had had. No. He wanted to go so achingly slow, make her feel every single second; to feel the fullness of him deep inside of her, their hips pressed together, brusing. He wanted to draw it out, take his time working her up and watch her burst in starlight till she was a puddle of loose limbs and swollen lips against silky sheets.

They both needed the closeness, the intimacy of that moment to remind each other that they were there; that they were alive.

"Please," she breathed, blinking up at his with those honey brown eyes. She was starting the begging so early, he wouldn't stand a chance to do it his way if she kept it up.

Slowly he rolled his hips, pulling away only the tiniest bit before pushing back into her again, repeating the rhythm and teasing her the way he knew drove her crazy.

Her nails, the ones she purposely kept long enough to scratch, but short enough for work, sunk into his back. He knew that soon enough she would be drawing red arcs across his back. His skin would rival a Piacos painting, he was sure of it. But no piece could compare to the art he'd proudly worn on his back. He'd let her add a few more to his growing collection, the last round hadn't even healed yet.

"Sam," she groaned, going out of her mind, trying her best to create more friction and momentum between them. But against his body weight and strength, she was powerless to take only what he gave her.

He dragged a hand down her arm, her side, cupped her hip, and the curve of her thigh became that leg that was wrapped around his hip. She was the absolute goddess of a woman. A goddess deserved to be worshiped.

She reached up, index finger hooking around the gold necklace that hung between them. She pulled on it, wanting him even closer. But he didn't want to move. He wanted to keep her there, suspended in the moment as he looked at his fill, memorizing every last detail.

"Fuck," he groaned, feeling her tighten around him, cheating to get him to move. "You don't play fair." He ducked his head into her neck, trying his best to lavish her skin with kisses as he finally moved to the rhythm she was begging for.

She whimpered, tightening her hold on him as if he'd ever want to leave her embrace.

"Close," she choked out between breaths. "So close," she groaned, tipping her head back, and arching her body further into his. He was so deep, so wrapped up in her that he wasn't sure where he started and she began, but none of that mattered because, after a few more thrusts, she fell apart for him, a gasp slipping past her lips, her body fluttering against him in response.

A satisfied smirk pulled at his mouth, smug that he had pleased her and how quickly he could do so. He slowed his pace again, letting her come down slowly, drawing it out for her as long as possible.

"Please," she whimpered, sounding like a vixen. "Faster," she instructed.

And really, who was he to deny her if she wanted more? They had gone slow enough. He picked up speed, already close to the edge, her pleasure pushing him over completely before he lost himself in her soon after. It was almost embarrassing, but when it came to her, he was helpless, anyone would be.

She giggled in response, a hand curling into his hair, fingers scratching his scalp, soothing him through it. An angel. A fucking angel.

Sam let out a breath, pulling his weight up into his arms, not realizing when he had slipped, but he didn't want to crush her. He readied himself to pull out, to leave the warmth his body craved so deeply. He desperately needed to get his mouth on her before they inevitably fell asleep. He needed to make her come, at least one more time.

But before he got a chance to move, her hold on him tightened once more.

"Stay," she asked. "Just like this, for a little while," she explained blinking up at him with those big beautiful eyes he fell pray to way too often. Her palms rubbed soothing circles against his stinging back.

But he understood. She needed to feel him a little while longer. He felt the same. So he stayed, their bodies intertwined but his weight off of her.

"I'm sorry about earlier," she murmured, brushing his hair out his face.

"It's fine," he promised.

She could have dragged him through the mud and he would thank her for it. "I should have found you sooner," he admitted. Because that was the root of her anger earlier, wasn't it? She had been worried sick about him since the alarm rang out. And he hadn't been able to speak to her, to confirm that he was ok, till hours later. He understood her anger. He would feel the same, but he knew she was ok. He kept tabs on her from inside the bunker.

"I keep thinking you'd be the next body coming in on a stretcher and I'd…" she closed her eyes shuttering. He felt it all around him.

"Shh," he cooed. "It's ok. I'm here. I'm ok. We're both ok," he promised, pressing kisses to her face. "I had Casey, so I was safer than anyone else in the world. And I had eyes on you the whole time," he explained with a soft smile.

"You did?" she asked, confused, finger absentmindedly tracing the tattoo on his chest.

Sam wrapped his arms around her, flipping them over in a swift move so that she laid on top of him instead. "I was watching the security feeds and I…" he trailed off, unsure of how honest he could be. "I had to make sure you were ok," he decided on that truth.

She smiled at him like that was enough. It wasn't. It would never be. But he was glad that small detail relaxed her a bit.

"You need to get some rest," he told her. "You had a long day and I'm sure you'll be busy for the next few days," he reminded her of her many patients.

"What about you? With Derek on bed rest…" she trailed off, biting her lip in worry.

Sam shrugged, not wanting to think about it too much. "I'm in charge," he confirmed, letting his eyes close for a moment. He didn't have much time to sleep before he was expected to show up with new orders for everyone.

"You need a Second in command," she reminded him, pulling a blanket over them, snuggling into him as if she was getting comfortable for a good night's rest.

"I know," he whispered, cupping the back of her head. "I'll talk to him," he promised, murmuring against her hair.

"You said that last time," she countered, but there was no heat behind it. She was just as tired as he was.

His mouth tipped up into a sleepy, satisfied smile. She was so protective of him. He was a lucky bastard.

"Go to sleep," he answered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I've got you," he vowed, his words meaning more than she knew.