[ It's the nearest one so he just goes for it, taking the few steps over to the bunk in a hurry. He drops down onto the mattress with Fatima underneath him, not even letting the recoil of the springs give a break.
Sam finally sets the condom down safely on the stand next to the bed as he searches for the zipper for her skirt. There's a brief moment of triumph when he finds it, the sound just as satisfying as he's able to unzip it and pull it off her hips. But as hurried, as eager as he is, he still takes the moment to appreciate her thighs, running his hands down their length as they follow the skirt until its finally gone. ]
[Elegantly, she points her toes, bending one knee. Her fingers begin to trace the familiar lines of his muscles, up along his arm and across the back of his shoulder. Finally, she pulls back from sucking on his neck, just to look up at him.]
[ He takes that opportunity to kiss her properly once again, allowing his hands to run back up her torso before finding her breasts. The blue of her bra just stands out nicely against the tone of her skin, almost making him want to leave it on...so maybe he will. He cups them, breaking his mouth away from hers so he can kiss and suck at the curve of her breast. ]
[Sweet, and a little bit feisty too. But no objections. She never thought a guy going to town on her breasts like that would feel so good. Mostly because of her own awkwardness. But holy shit...
She moans softly, arching her back a little bit.
Desire pools in the pit of her stomach. Fumbling a bit, she starts undoing his pants.]
[ And go to town he does. Though Sam doesn't release them from her bra, he still makes sure to dote upon every inch of them that he can until her skin turns pink. He raises his own hips slightly as her hands find his belt buckle. One hand goes down to help tug his pants off, kicking them unceremoniously away. ]
[ He's more than happy to settle between her thighs, a small smile on his lips as he kisses his way back up to find her lips. Sam rolls his hips into hers, the tent in his boxer-briefs very noticeable by now. He runs his hands along her sides and then underneath to grab her rear, pulling her body into the motion of his. ]
[She kisses him back, fiercely. Maybe a little possessively. Her fingers rake up through his hair, digging in and holding on. Languidly, her tongue explores the bow of his upper lip.
Raising her hips, she falls into rhythm with his movements. It may be a little optimistic to say that she's finally getting the hang of this but...well...maybe she is.]
[ She ignites something at his core that's difficult to ignore, a switch that's flipped and refuses to turn off. It's an effort to try and collect his thoughts, but perhaps it's better to just not think at all. He is all too eager to suck on her tongue, inviting it into his mouth where she can meet his own.
They move together in a comfortable rhythm, letting the friction build and build. A deep growl rumbles from his chest as he starts to pull at the elastic of her panties. ]
[It's wonderful, feeling like an active agent in this part of the relationship. Before, she felt more like a spectator. Now she shimmies out of those panties, the touch of Sam's fingertips against her skin igniting something inside of her.
She has never wanted him so much.
What's changed? She can't really figure it out. She just knows whatever it is, it's there and it's strong.
Introspection will have to wait. Right now, she's more interested in getting rid of his boxer-briefs.]
[ Sam let's his urges dictate his actions, for once not bothering to worry, or worrying to bother, one of the two. His underwear disappears along somewhere with hers as he remembers at the last moment to reach out and grope along the side of the bed until he finds the nightstand. The condom is not forgotten.
Maybe they need this, a bit of heat, a bit of reassurance that there's a reason they're trying to work through the mess of the world as well as each other. It's something Sam will reflect on later, but for the moment, it's that heat he's searching for. ]
[It's better than before. That's the first thought that occurs to her, once thinking becomes a thing again.
The second was that she was a little bit louder than she probably should have been.
Oops.
Fortunately, it doesn't seem like they've called too much attention to themselves. Small favors. Attention is bad. Attention risks Dean finding out.
She breathes heavily against his shoulder, planting a kiss or two along his neck, between each gasp. The heat radiating off of his body is intense and pleasant. Like a patch of sunlight through the clouds.]
[ It's a moment before Sam finally allows himself to stop. With a few final rolls of his hips, he's spent, letting his weight rest completely on top of hers. Covered in sweat, chest heaving, Sam catches his breath as his nose absently nuzzles her ear. His mind hasn't quite connected back up with the rest of his body yet, so it's a moment of uninterrupted...well.
Contentment. And that's something he hasn't felt in a long time.
She's soft and warm and welcoming underneath him. Why would he want to move? ]
[Lightly, she starts to run her fingers along his spine. A few gentle strokes, each one starting higher and higher until she finds his hair. Her hand tangles up in it, fingernails gently grazing his scalp.
She likes the feeling of his weight on top of her. It's like her emotions are tangible, like she can wrap herself up in them and just live there.
This thing that they have...it's never felt so real. Which scares her a little. Something real can be lost or broken. The idea of that kind of vulnerability is...upsetting.
A line forms between her eyes as her fingers still.]
[ For someone who is usually so quiet, the light hum of a purr at her nails running along his scalp is a surprise to himself, but it's a good, comforting feeling. The tingling sensation makes his hair stand on end. If he didn't want to move before, he simply won't now.
That is, until she stills. Blearily Sam lifts his head up to look at her and notices the expression. It's not long before his mirrors hers. ]
[She realizes her mistake right away and although she immediately goes back to stroking his hair, she can't see her way to dismissing everything else offhand.
Just not her style.
And anyway, if she wants Sam to be honest with her, she needs to make a precedent. She hasn't done a fantastic job of that, since arriving in Haven.]
This...this thing that we have. It's...
[Words are hard. She continues to play with his hair, her movements tender and affectionate, even as she's visibly struggling to find the words she wants.
[ Sam is, if anything, remarkably patient with people. Not himself, but definitely others. So he doesn't interrupt, wanting Fatima to finish her though. He props himself up on his forearms, but doesn't move further away that that. He can see her more easily, read the subtleties in her expression. ]
[Fatima looks up at him with an open expression. She doesn't want him to think she's unhappy. Far from it. She's incredibly happy.
Just...puzzled.
Her fingers continue to shiver through his hair as she begins, haltingly and unsure.]
The...the first boy that I ever liked, I mean, really, really liked--Jamie Goldstein--we went out once. He asked me because he wanted to annoy his mother and I said yes because I wanted to do something that was...normal.
And it was...it was good. Great actually. Kiss on the front step of my house and everything. But then, when we were talking, he made some stupid joke about vampires. I don't even remember what it was. And I decided, right then, that we couldn't go out any more. Because he couldn't handle the world I was from, if he knew what it was like.
[She's never said anything like this. Not to Sam, not even to her friends and family back home. And not to herself. Not in so many words.]
There were other boys and other first dates. And other excuses. One was too lame and one was too good for me and one liked the band Asia too much and one was too attached to his ex. I think I perfected the art of excuses.
[Her palm slides down, cupping his cheek. And she just stares at him for a second.]
And I don't want to make excuses with you. The gods know there are plenty...
[Different worlds, hunter and a "monster," the complications of Haven, Dean...]
[ He listens quietly; he's good at listening. He's not quite sure where this is coming from, either. Dean? (He doesn't want to think about Dean right now, to be honest.) Her earlier slip? But whatever the reason he listens with some sense of trepidation because he's got a feeling this isn't going to be news he wants to hear.
It's inevitable, comparing people. Though some may think it rude, it's how you learn and grow. Sam knows that he's never going to forget about Jessica and frankly? He doesn't want to. She's a part of him; her life shaped him just as much as her death did. You can't just wash away the past when you're trying to start again. And he knows she would want him to be happy. So he's open-minded, listening about her experiences.
Sam leans into her palm a little, brows furrowed. ]
[ He's visibly relieved at that. Maybe this is something he's been having trouble with himself, trying to figure out where he stands and what his feelings are. But more than once this evening he's been worried about it coming to and end and, well, that says something in and of itself, doesn't it? He wants to have her close, to be with her.
Maybe it's about time he do something about it.
Sam shakes his head and reaches for her other hand, lacing their fingers together as he holds it against the mattress. He leans down to kiss her softly, a silent request to cease apologies or misgivings. When he breaks away, he stays close enough that his lips ghost over hers as he speaks. ]
I like who I am when I'm with you.
[ Which...is a big deal. Sam doesn't like himself most of the time. ]
You help remind me that there are still good things and good people in the world and that they're worth fighting for.
[It completely floors her. More than stopping her apologies, it renders her completely silent.
Well. There is a soft gasp.
It doesn't take any kind of trained psychologist to see Sam's crap self-esteem. Maybe to plumb the depths of it and understand it, but not to see it. So for him to say something like that is...astonishing. Both because it's so extreme and because...well...she wasn't exactly trying to do anything like that. She doesn't preach love and goodwill like Auntie Diana or Christine or any other members of the Order. She just...does what she needs to do.
How is she supposed to respond to that?
Fatima Aine Merali is seldom rendered speechless, but Sam is apparently a miracleworker.
All she can do is stare, lips slightly parted, eyes big and brown and wide.]
[ He's not sure if he was expecting a response, or anything at all, but the fact she isn't laughing at him is a good sign. For once he might have surprised her in a good way and that's a nice change. Sam offers a somewhat self-conscious, but honest smile. ]
[And now he's the one making jokes. It makes her smile. Not the normal, blase, smirky smile. One that hurts her face and wrinkles up the corners of her eyes.
Until she grabs a handful of his hair and pulls him down into a fierce kiss.
They're both insane. Completely. Totally. Utterly.
Fatima never once considered the possibility that there would be any kind of 'happy ending' for them. But for the first time, she thinks about it. And a part of her really likes it.]
[ The smile is one that makes him want to mirror it, of course, until his lips are otherwise occupied. She surprises him in the best way, clearly catching him of guard as it takes him a moment longer than usual to respond. But Sam is more than happy to, accentuating the sentiment and matching the ferocity of her kiss.
He doesn't think there's much of a future for him. However they get out of this, he's running low on options in regards to his own destiny. But he can still try to make one for her and enjoy the present the best he can. It might be just enough. ]
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Sam finally sets the condom down safely on the stand next to the bed as he searches for the zipper for her skirt. There's a brief moment of triumph when he finds it, the sound just as satisfying as he's able to unzip it and pull it off her hips. But as hurried, as eager as he is, he still takes the moment to appreciate her thighs, running his hands down their length as they follow the skirt until its finally gone. ]
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So, so sweet.
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She moans softly, arching her back a little bit.
Desire pools in the pit of her stomach. Fumbling a bit, she starts undoing his pants.]
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Her knee slides up along the side of his leg, before hooking around his delightful man-hips.]
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Raising her hips, she falls into rhythm with his movements. It may be a little optimistic to say that she's finally getting the hang of this but...well...maybe she is.]
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They move together in a comfortable rhythm, letting the friction build and build. A deep growl rumbles from his chest as he starts to pull at the elastic of her panties. ]
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She has never wanted him so much.
What's changed? She can't really figure it out. She just knows whatever it is, it's there and it's strong.
Introspection will have to wait. Right now, she's more interested in getting rid of his boxer-briefs.]
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Maybe they need this, a bit of heat, a bit of reassurance that there's a reason they're trying to work through the mess of the world as well as each other. It's something Sam will reflect on later, but for the moment, it's that heat he's searching for. ]
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The second was that she was a little bit louder than she probably should have been.
Oops.
Fortunately, it doesn't seem like they've called too much attention to themselves. Small favors. Attention is bad. Attention risks Dean finding out.
She breathes heavily against his shoulder, planting a kiss or two along his neck, between each gasp. The heat radiating off of his body is intense and pleasant. Like a patch of sunlight through the clouds.]
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Contentment. And that's something he hasn't felt in a long time.
She's soft and warm and welcoming underneath him. Why would he want to move? ]
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She likes the feeling of his weight on top of her. It's like her emotions are tangible, like she can wrap herself up in them and just live there.
This thing that they have...it's never felt so real. Which scares her a little. Something real can be lost or broken. The idea of that kind of vulnerability is...upsetting.
A line forms between her eyes as her fingers still.]
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That is, until she stills. Blearily Sam lifts his head up to look at her and notices the expression. It's not long before his mirrors hers. ]
What's wrong?
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Just not her style.
And anyway, if she wants Sam to be honest with her, she needs to make a precedent. She hasn't done a fantastic job of that, since arriving in Haven.]
This...this thing that we have. It's...
[Words are hard. She continues to play with his hair, her movements tender and affectionate, even as she's visibly struggling to find the words she wants.
She can't.]
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Just...puzzled.
Her fingers continue to shiver through his hair as she begins, haltingly and unsure.]
The...the first boy that I ever liked, I mean, really, really liked--Jamie Goldstein--we went out once. He asked me because he wanted to annoy his mother and I said yes because I wanted to do something that was...normal.
And it was...it was good. Great actually. Kiss on the front step of my house and everything. But then, when we were talking, he made some stupid joke about vampires. I don't even remember what it was. And I decided, right then, that we couldn't go out any more. Because he couldn't handle the world I was from, if he knew what it was like.
[She's never said anything like this. Not to Sam, not even to her friends and family back home. And not to herself. Not in so many words.]
There were other boys and other first dates. And other excuses. One was too lame and one was too good for me and one liked the band Asia too much and one was too attached to his ex. I think I perfected the art of excuses.
[Her palm slides down, cupping his cheek. And she just stares at him for a second.]
And I don't want to make excuses with you. The gods know there are plenty...
[Different worlds, hunter and a "monster," the complications of Haven, Dean...]
...but when I'm with you, I'm...happy.
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It's inevitable, comparing people. Though some may think it rude, it's how you learn and grow. Sam knows that he's never going to forget about Jessica and frankly? He doesn't want to. She's a part of him; her life shaped him just as much as her death did. You can't just wash away the past when you're trying to start again. And he knows she would want him to be happy. So he's open-minded, listening about her experiences.
Sam leans into her palm a little, brows furrowed. ]
...but?
[ There's a "but" coming, right? ]
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No. No, no, no. No "but." It's not a "but" statement.
[Shit. What's he thinking? She screwed something up, didn't she?]
I don't know what I'm saying. I mean, I'm not sure what I'm trying to say. I'm not making a lot of sense.
[Now would be a really good time to learn how to turn invisible.
She lets out a short, frustrated noise.]
I mean...you're different. Or I'm different around you. One of the two. Or both.
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Maybe it's about time he do something about it.
Sam shakes his head and reaches for her other hand, lacing their fingers together as he holds it against the mattress. He leans down to kiss her softly, a silent request to cease apologies or misgivings. When he breaks away, he stays close enough that his lips ghost over hers as he speaks. ]
I like who I am when I'm with you.
[ Which...is a big deal. Sam doesn't like himself most of the time. ]
You help remind me that there are still good things and good people in the world and that they're worth fighting for.
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Well. There is a soft gasp.
It doesn't take any kind of trained psychologist to see Sam's crap self-esteem. Maybe to plumb the depths of it and understand it, but not to see it. So for him to say something like that is...astonishing. Both because it's so extreme and because...well...she wasn't exactly trying to do anything like that. She doesn't preach love and goodwill like Auntie Diana or Christine or any other members of the Order. She just...does what she needs to do.
How is she supposed to respond to that?
Fatima Aine Merali is seldom rendered speechless, but Sam is apparently a miracleworker.
All she can do is stare, lips slightly parted, eyes big and brown and wide.]
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I promise that sounded less lame in my head.
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Until she grabs a handful of his hair and pulls him down into a fierce kiss.
They're both insane. Completely. Totally. Utterly.
Fatima never once considered the possibility that there would be any kind of 'happy ending' for them. But for the first time, she thinks about it. And a part of her really likes it.]
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He doesn't think there's much of a future for him. However they get out of this, he's running low on options in regards to his own destiny. But he can still try to make one for her and enjoy the present the best he can. It might be just enough. ]
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