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“Oh my God,” you groan as you lie on your back, pillow pressed over your face with both arms. “That’s so fucking embarrassing.” You can feel Sam’s fingers on your hips as he leans over you, trying to calm you down.
“It’s not a bad thing,” he says, and you hear an edge of humor in his voice, which makes you press the pillow harder against your face.
“It’s— I—That’s never happened to me before,” you say and this time Sam actually chuckles, and you feel him tug at the edges of the pillow you are trying to hide your shame with.
“Can you just look at me?” he says, still chuckling. You let him pull the pillow away and his handsome face moves into your vision. His bangs are falling into his face, he’s grinning, showing off those damn, adorable dimples and brilliant pearly whites, and he wraps his arm around you, making you groan.
“It just—It started feeling weird, and I—” you begin, and Sam goes: “Ssh. It’s okay.”
You press your lips together, stare at the ceiling as Sam’s thumb caresses your ribs through the fabric of the Stanford sweater, the one he’s long surrendered to you, the one you pulled over yourself after you jumped out of bed in a panic. Sam had to coax you back under the covers, which was when you hid behind your pillow wall.
“There is nothing you need to be embarrassed about, okay?” he says now in that soft voice he uses when you’re overthinking things, but he doesn’t want to tell you outright.
“Sam,” you say, trying to sound as reasonable as you can. “I jizzed in your face!” And that makes Sam laugh so hard he leans his forehead against your shoulder.
“It’s not fun-nuh-y!” you complain loudly, one hand going up to cover your face.
“Well, no, not if you say it like that,” Sam says, looking up, still laughing but starting to contain himself. You groan again. Maybe that’s your thing now.
“Hey, I survived!” Sam points out, bringing his face closer to you and kissing your cheek. You let him, an improvement from when he tried just after you’d gotten back into bed.
“I can see the headlines,” you try to joke. “Kansas man survives shot to the face, authorities baffled.” Sam scoffs and shakes his head, then looks into your eyes.
“I thought it was hot,” he says and it almost makes you forget about your horror for a second.
“You did?” you say, frowning at him. Sam shrugs.
“Well, yeah,” he answers, shrugging. “Did— Did it… did it feel good?” You press your lips together, think. It’s almost a blur, but the blur might be because it did feel good. Really good. You shift a little, move your hips.
“I guess?” you say. “It was weird, I felt like I had to pee, but then…” Sam’s hand goes up and strokes your cheek.
You are suddenly staunchly reminded of the fact that you are both still naked (apart from the Stanford sweater on you), and that only a thin blanket is covering both of your lower bodies. You look down along Sam’s body. The blanket only goes up to the distinct v-lines of his lower abdomen. You roll towards him a little bit.
“Have you ever…” you start, then swallow. “Has that ever happened to anyone you were with?” You’re still abashed, still embarrassed, but there’s something else building in you. Sam thought what you did was hot.
“No,” Sam says, running his hand from your cheek to your arm, then further down before splaying it over your hand. “But I’ve known guys that bragged about it.”
“Oh,” you say. You didn’t know that. No one’s ever told you that that’s a thing. What the hell else can your body do that you don’t know about?
“It did feel pretty good,” you admit, rolling further towards Sam. He’s stroking the back of your hand, but now wanders back to your side, just holding you there.
“Yeah?” he asks, voice low.
“Yeah,” you answer, moving your hand and tracing a finger over the small dip below Sam’s throat, the one where a little bit of sweat collects when the two of you have been going at it for a while. It makes your breath stutter now to think about it.
“It felt really… intense,” you say and Sam moves his face closer to yours, lets his lips ghost over your cheek.
“You made some seriously amazing noises,” he says. You could feel more embarrassment but it’s difficult to focus on when Sam adds: “That was so goddamn sexy.” Your mouth drops open and you look up into Sam’s eyes while you let your finger wander lower on his body.
“I did?” you ask, because you honest to god don’t remember. Sam nods.
“I thought for a second you were faking it,” Sam continues, swallows, and then he’s the one that looks embarrassed. “Like, I didn’t know you could sound like that.”
He looks at your lips, then adds: “That I could make you feel like that.”
Your finger wanders a little lower still and Sam shivers at your touch. God, he’s sexy.
“I never need to fake it with you,” you say and a not altogether unproud smile spreads over his lips.
“Good,” he says, then quickly adds: “I don’t want you to. If anything ever doesn’t wok—”
You don’t know what else he’s going to say because you shut him up with a kiss. Sam immediately pulls you closer and then groans into your mouth when your hand finds his hardness under the blanket. You break the kiss, stroke him slowly.
“You didn’t come,” you say and Sam’s eyes go over your face.
“That’s okay,” he says but you’re already moving closer, still stroking him. He closes his eyes for a second at your touch, then blinks them open again.
“You wanna see if you can do it again?” he whispers. “With me inside of you this time?”
Your mouth drops open as arousal floods your body so violently that you think you’ll drown in it. You increase the pressure on your stroking a little just as you kiss Sam, and he moans into your mouth.
“Let’s try,” you whisper.
Sam rolls over you while he keeps kissing you. You continue stroking him while his hand wanders down your body to between your legs, cups your pussy. You feel him smile against you.
“I love how wet you get,” he says and just as you open your eyes to look at him, he presses two fingers into you. The embers of your arousal are reigniting inside you immediately.
Sam watches you attentively as he presses the pads of his fingers against your inner wall and then drags down until he finds the spot that makes you whimper. He studies your face as he keeps touching it, pressing against it, listens to your breathing pick up. You look up at him, trying to keep your eyes open, your attention on him, but then you begin shaking, your body twitching like you touched an outlet and your head rolls back, mouth drops open to let out a high whine. Sam uses the chance to press his tongue into your mouth, tasting you.
He pulls back his hand, then moves to press open your legs. He takes his hard cock into his hand and pushes himself up with his other hand so he can look down your body. He presses the head of it against you and you moan, all of you sensitive and warm and ready for him.
“Sam,” you moan, and he doesn’t need to be asked twice. With excruciating slowness, Sam pushes into you, makes you feel every inch of him, all that silky soft skin and steely hardness. When his pelvis meets you, sits snug against you, he pushes his hand in-between your bodies, finds your clit.
“I wanna make you scream,” he says and a shuddering exhale leaves you. You’re pretty sure he can.
Despite two amazing orgasms and a little bit of screaming, it doesn’t happen again that day. But that doesn’t mean you and Sam stop trying.