ascendingtostardust - Tumblr blog

ascendingtostardust · 2 days

Text

Retaliation // SFK x CM

a/n~ Roughly a year ago I had a crackship idea to write Sam as a profiler for the Quantico BAU and throw him into the world of Criminal Minds - which never happened until now. The serial killer mentioned in this case is not of my own creation but is one of @vanfleeter’s creation, who lovingly let me borrow her idea to get the gears turning. Thank you, my love. You’re the best 😘

WARNINGS: Mentions of crime scene photos, Death, gun shot wounds. The use of guns in a criminal investigation setting. Foul language. Any that I may have missed please please please let me know!

This wasn’t his life plan. Working with the Federal Bureau of Investigation- the Behavioral Analysis Unit to be exact, wasn’t exactly where he saw himself when he crossed that stage to accept his bachelors degree in criminal justice. Never once had he dreamed of working with the FBI - the weakness of his stomach around anything even slightly grotesque had made that decision for him many years ago.

Though his interests had changed immensely somewhere between walking the stage in his high school graduation and picking a major in college. A simple read through of a true crime book changing the trajectory of his thoughts and dreams. Long gone were the ideas that he’d don a space suit and blast off into the stratosphere with his colleagues. His mind full of the facts that would make him a brilliant astronaut, while his passions lie elsewhere in the midst of cold cases and unsolved mysteries.

He had been encouraged to join the BAU, the brilliance his mind held to create a profile, picking up on even the most minuscule of details causing him to be able to solve a case even those higher in the food chain couldn’t.

“That is absolutely his signature! Look, each woman have the same markings as,” he trailed off, sifting through the file folder spread out across the conference table.

Finding the one he wanted he quickly carded through the documents, placing crime scene photos of the victim next to the ones he was studying.

“Her! They all have the same markings, look at their ears - it looks like he may have taken a hole punch to them.. but why? An inch of skin isn’t any substantial trophy.”

Hotch had raised an eyebrow, his eyes dancing over the photos Sam looked through, placing his hands again the table as eh leaned his weight forward.

“So then what could it mean?”

“Wait look! She’s got one, she has one on each ear, but she has three and she, LOOK! She has two on each ear. He wasn’t a one time killer, this was the work of a serial killer. This is how he was signing off each kill.”

Hotch’s eyes grew wide as the realization hit him. Pushing back off of the table he steadied his weight, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You ever think of doing this professionally, kid?”

____________

“I still can’t believe the newbie cracked that last case as a stand in rookie cop, it’s never happened like that before.” Morgan chuckled, perching himself again the edge of Sam’s desk and clapped a firm hand down onto his shoulder. A sheepish smile spread across Sam’s face and he turned his attention back to the file folder sat in front of him.

“That’s because he wasn’t meant to be a cop, he was meant to be a profiler.” JJ chirped up from where she sat, her eyes never leaving the screen of her laptop.

“Actually, my calling was space. I studied to work in a space station, but a few of the degrees over lapped into this line of work. But then I read this book called Murder New England which was a collection of cases and it really sparked something in my brain. I found that I was able to profile right along with the story and well… the rest is history.” Sam shrugged his shoulders and realized he was rambling.

“No wonder you all said he’s just like Reid.” Emily shook her head and slowly made her way out of the bullpen and in the direction of Garcias office.

A comfortable silence fell over the three profilers remaining in the bullpen as they went back to the tasks they had originally been working on. It wasn’t long before a commotion rang out somewhere down the hall and the doors to the bullpen sprang open as Hotch barged his way into the bullpen followed closely by Garcia and Prentiss.

“A new case just came out of the DC area, they need our help ASAP - wheels up in thirty.” Sam’s head shot up at the authoritative tone in Hotchs voice. His eyes danced over to Garcia who - in a tizzy - was handing out case files for them to go over on the flight. JJ stood from her desk and threw a look over her shoulder at Sam who was frozen in his seat.

“You comin’, Sam? We gotta jet.” Her voice was light and airy, a tone that shook him out of his thoughts and he pushed himself to stand. Holding his hand out he allowed Garcia to place the file in it and wrapped his fingers gently around it before taking off at a jog behind his colleges.

Garcia began pacing in front of the conference table as she waited for the crew to take their respective seats. Pulling a deep breath in through her nose she turned on her heel and, using the remote in her hand, brought the screen to life behind her. On it were gruesome crime scene photos of three separate victims.

“Asher Max, Mariah Lambert and Colby Rodriguez. All three were found dead on the steps of various museums within the Smithsonian.” Sam cocked his head to the side, trying to examine the photos on the screen as best as possible.

“There’s duct tape around their wrists and a GSW to their foreheads… what do you think the unsub does to get them in space where they can restrain their hands and bring them down execution style?” Sam offered, turning his attention to the file folder that sat on the table in front of him. Garcia clicked through to the next slide, presenting photos of the crime scenes, the offices in which the victims worked.

“They hang around long after the museums are shut down for the night, find a way in and ambush them in their offices - they’re found on the front steps the next day. No one has stepped forward outside of those reporting the findings of the body and crime scenes in the offices.” Sam shook his head, not wanting to believe what he was hearing.

“Someone had to have seen something, anything. What about security guards or cameras? Have they pulled the footage?” Garcia nodded and clicked over to another slide.

“They ceased the investigation until we could get there. So far there are no ties to anyone or any real motive as to why the murders are happening.” Garcia scanned the faces of her colleagues and her gaze came to rest on Spencer.

“What are you thinking, Reid?” She mumbled, leaning forward to rest her hands against the conference table.

“There’s something telling in the male, female, male, pattern in which they’ve killed. Meaning the next kill may be…” Spencer was cut off as Hotch brought his hand down against the conference table.

“Another female was found outside of the American Woman’s History Museum. Let’s wrap this up. Wheels up in five!” Hotch spoke with a sense of urgency as he pushed his chair out and rose to his feet, making his way quickly out of the conference room.

“Someone’s had to have seen something. Is there any connection they’re aware of?” Spencer asked, rising to his feet and collecting the file folder from the table in front of him. Garcia shook her head and turned off the screen behind her.

“So far no… go get em tigers, I have faith in you.”

Sam sighed as he rose to stand and followed JJ out of the conference room.

~*~*~

“Agent Rossi, what brings you here?” Hotch was quick to address the senior agent as they made their way over to the American Woman’s History Museum. Rossi raised his eyebrow and turned on a heel to face the BAU members standing behind him.

“They called me directly. Who do you think tipped Garcia off to compile the files?” Rossi kept his tone even, not wanting to tip off the crew that he was peeved. Hotch nodded solemnly and they slowly made their way into the police station.

“I’m Agent Aaron Hotcher of the Quantico BAU. This is Agent Reid, Rossi, Jareau, Morgan, Prentiss and Kiszka.” Hotch rattled off a quick introduction as they were escorted into the conference room.

Sam’s eyes danced over the expanse of the map of the Smithsonian they had set up, taking in as many details as his mind would hold. Reid stepped forward and stood shoulder to shoulder with Sam, eyeing the newest member of the BAU quietly before turning his attention to the map on the wall.

“Look… even the order of museums is odd, he bounces from one side to the next… male, female, male, female… so if he hit the Woman’s History Museum last…” Reid’s voice trailed off and he reached up to cup his chin in his hand.

“If he follows the same trajectory…the National Gallery of Art is next. Hey Hotch? Is the director of the Gallery of Art male or female?” Sam called, glancing over his shoulder at his senior Agent.

“That would be David Saunders. He’s one of the best historians around these parts.” The police officer standing next to Hotch spoke up and turned to face the agents.

“Shit… and it’s almost closing time. That’s his next target - we gotta go!” Sam’s voice took on a tone of urgency as he turned on his heel and took off out of the conference room with both Morgan and Reid hot on his heels. Rossi turned his attention to the commotion for a brief moment before returning it to the CCTV footage that was pulled up on the computer screen in front of him.

“See him? With the bucket hat?” The security guard working the cameras zoomed in on the man and waited patiently for him to tip his head in the direction of the camera.

“That’s Chase Rivera, he parted ways with us a few months ago due to ‘Unforseen circumstances’… do you think?” His question trailed off as he looked up at Rossi. The senior Agent nodded his head vigorously before pulling his cellphone out of his pocket and dialed a number.

***

“Talk to me, Rossi.” Morgan spoke down the phone, his free hand resting on his holster as he scanned the crowd for any suspicious activity.

“The guys name is Chase Rivera. He’s wearing blue jeans, a Hawaiian shirt and a black bucket hat stood just inside the door to the National Art Gallery. Keep a close eye on him, I think he’s our guy.”

“He just walked past me and Reid mumbling under his breath but I couldn’t catch what was said. Newbies been trailing him since we spotted him. I’ll keep you in the loop.” Morgan ended the call and slid the phone safely back into his pocket.

“Hey kid, they’ve got a birds eye view on the guy Sam’s trailing, I’ve got a good feeling about this.” Morgan chuckled and slowly began to make his way over to where Sam stood in the crowd. Reaching out he placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder as to not startle the boy with his presence.

“He keeps watching the director every time he goes back and forth to and from his office… wait, look at his belt. Is that a… gun holster?” Reid took a step closer, the unsub none the wiser that he was being watched from all angles. Slipping his hands in his pockets, Reid leaned forward slightly and squinted his eyes, just barely making out the glint reflecting off of the revolver.

Chase rocked on his heels as he watched the few people that still remained in the museum disperse. All three agents shuffled backwards, pressing up against the wall as to not be seen. Reid crouched down next to Sam and leaned sideways just enough to see Chase’s shoes, watching to see if he dared to move.

“There goes David into his office… shit!” Sam mumbled, his hand going instinctually to the gun that hung on his hip. Reid pushed himself up off of the ground and followed suit, drawing his gun and turned his attention to Sam for the next round of instruction.

“He’s not luring them into their offices, he’s waiting where no one will look and following them in. We’ve got him now.” Sam’s voice held steady between a whisper and his normal tone as he slowly began to walk towards the directors office. A commotion could be heard coming from inside the office. Muffled voices and furniture being tipped onto its side.

Reid pushed past Sam and turned his attention to the agents at his back. Raising his hand he counted down from three before kicking in the door to David Saunders’ office.

“FBI! I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Chase!” Sam’s voice carried in from the hallway and a stunned Spencer stood still in his tracks.

Chase raised his head slowly and finished securing the duct tape shackles he was weaving around David’s wrists, rendering the man helpless. He straightened his back and stood to his full height, taking in the scene in front of him.

“And why not? There’s nothing a boy like you could do anyway.” Chase spoke in a drawl, dragging out his words longer than was necessary. Sam swallowed hard, the words he wanted to speak becoming fully entrapped in his mind.

“Drop the weapon, Chase. There’s an easy out standing right in front of you. He’s done nothing to you, there’s no rhyme or reason for the way you’re acting. You left on your own, you brought this upon yourself now… drop the weapon.” Reid’s voice was soft and level, knowing just how to speak to someone on the edge.

Chase turned his attention to the gun he held in his left hand and slowly lifted it, pressing the barrel to David’s temple. Sam swallowed hard as he watched the scene in front of him unfold, scooting his feet shoulder width apart he steadied his hand and took aim for Chases shoulder.

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t empty this barrel into his head. He forced me to resign, took my job from me. My lively hood! Doesn’t matter what I did to provoke it. He ruined my life.”

With a slight nod of Reids head both Sam and Morgan discharged a bullet from the barrels of their guns, lodging them both into Chases shoulder and caused the man to drop his gun. Sam was quick to place his gun back in the holster and stepped forward, slipping his handcuffs off of his back belt loop.

“Chase Saunders you are under arrest for the murder of Asher Max, Mariah Lambert and Colby Rodriguez. You’re going to have a lot of time to think about what you’ve done where you’re going.” Sam rambled off, placing the cuffs securely around Chases wrists and pulled the man to his feet. Stepping forward Morgan slipped his hand around Chases arm and yanked, pulling him in step with him.

A shaky breath slipped past Sam’s lips and he looked up, meeting Spencer’s gaze. Nodding his head in the direction of the door, Spencer turned on his heel and slowly made his way out of the office.

“He needs medics, but we got him. Sam got him.” Morgan beamed, handing Chase off to the EMT who was waiting for them outside of the museum. Hotch turned his attention to the main door of the museum and watched as Sam slowly dragged himself over to where everyone stood.

“Looks like our work here is done, good job son. You alright?” Hotch spoke, placing a reassuring hand on Sam’s shoulder. Sam nodded gently and turned his attention to the older man at his side. With a reassuring squeeze and a tilt of his head, Hotch motioned for everyone to head back to the cars knowing that their presence would soon be needed at the police station before they could head back to Quantico headquarters.

TAGLIST: @vanfleeter @stardustvanfleet @readyforthegarden @ascendingtostardust @belovedsamuel @sammysprincess @sammykiszkamyass @lyndz2names @the-wicked-gnome @runwayblues @gracev0609 @lipstickitty

#CRYSTAL YOU DONT UNDERSTAND #this was everything to me #oh my GOD #sam kiszka #k reads

24 notes · View notes

ascendingtostardust · 12 days

Text

Eucalyptus

18+ minors DNI

Sam Kiszka/Reader

Summary: A movie night with Sam takes a pleasant turn.

Warnings: smut, dare I say porn with plot? koalas and koala facts mentioned but not in like a weird way I just feel it needs a warning, moving on… unprotected penetrative sex (don’t do that!), dom/sub undertones, Sam has a praise kink, he’s also quite needy (have y’all noticed a trend yet), a tiny bit of overstimulation, dirty talk-ish things, teasing, marking, pet names, let me know if I missed any!

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: Hello, all! Thanks for tuning in! I thought since Sam’s birthday is coming up, I’d post a fic I’ve been working on for what feels like forever. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

It was Sam's turn to choose the movie that night. He made sure you knew it, too, with a sing-song reminder as you both made your way into the living room, pillows and blankets from your bed bunched up in your arms. You situated yourselves on the couch after an unnecessarily tumultuous few minutes, during which you'd managed to be only centimeters from driving your knee into the small of his back and he'd accidentally jabbed one of his bony elbows into the soft part of your side. He had also totally crushed your fingers beneath that same elbow and when you told him he had better watch it, he defended himself vehemently, claiming that your fingers "crushed themselves, why would you put them under my elbow?" Eventually, you wound up on your back with Sam at your side, his head on your shoulder and your arms tangled together across your torsos.

"Sammy," you murmured, as a harrowing--and kind of humorous--realization set in.

"Hm?"

"We forgot to grab the remote..."

"What? You think I'm gonna get it?"

He huffed and nuzzled further into the warm skin of your neck, as if he were trying to ignore the consequences of you both having forgotten the damned T.V remote... Those consequences being that one of you was going to have to move out of your comfy, cozy position to retrieve it. And you knew--fully well--that Sam would not be moving from his spot until the credits of whatever movie he chose were rolling. So, it was up to you.

Still, you decided to press his buttons a little. "Could you...?"

"Pfft- you're dreaming. And you're closer," his reply came an adorable snark, muffled into your skin.

With a giggle, you shimmied over to the edge of the couch and ignored the pouty look Sam shot in your direction, as if it were your fault the remote was still on the coffee table. You stretched your arm out and in what was an amazing feat of strength and balance, managed to grab the remote without tumbling to the floor. When you returned to your spot, Sam latched onto you, pulling you back into his arms. The act made your heart swell with adoration, and you couldn't help but to let out a quiet, fond laugh.

"What?" Sam sounded softly.

"It's nothing, Sammy. I love you."

He popped his head up and looked at you with narrowed eyes. "No, no, what is it?"

"Nothing!"

"Y/N, I swear if you don't tell me--"

"Alright, alright! It's just--" you couldn't even finish, you cut yourself off with another laugh.

"Babyyy,"

"It's just- I love it when you get so cuddly. You're like... a little koala bear."

"A koala?"

"Yeah!"

He made a face. "Koalas are kinda ugly." Then, he gasped in mock-offense, "Do you think I'm ugly?"

"No, Sam!" you laughed. "They're not ugly, and neither are you."

"I mean, they're pretty ugly."

"No, they're not! They're cute!"

You and Sam spent the next few minutes looking at 'ugly koala pictures'--as he had typed into the search bar on his phone--and you had to admit it: koala bears could be pretty foul-looking sometimes.

"So," Sam said after he'd finished proving his point and set his phone on the side table. "If I'm a koala, what does that make you? My tree?"

"Oh, so you're fine with being a koala, now?"

"Yeah, as long as you're like, my eucalyptus tree, or something."

You raised your brows in amusement. "Why do I have to be a tree?"

"Well, what else are you gonna be?"

"I don't know, maybe you koala-girlfriend?"

"Nah," he shook his head with a playful grin. "I like you better as a tree."

You poked a finger into the ticklish spot on his side, just to see him squirm. "What's that supposed to mean, huh?"

"Whatever you want it to mean, my darling eucalyptus tree. Will you pass me the remote?"

With a roll of your eyes, you dropped the remote on his chest. "What do you wanna watch?"

Moments later, a koala bear documentary popped up on the television screen.

"You think you can stay awake for a whole documentary?" you prodded, and Sam gave an annoyed huff.

"I'm not gonna fall asleep."

You knew that Sam was definitely going to fall asleep. Something about watching a movie--especially at night--always put him right out. Maybe, it was the coziness of the soft lamplight and the plush couch cushions. Or maybe, it was just being snuggled up together. It didn't matter and besides, you'd never tire of turning off whatever old, corny movie he had put on and watching your show while he dozed soundly in your arms.

"Whatever you say, koala boy."

He grumbled rather cutely for a few seconds--things like, "I'm not gonna fall asleep this time" and "that's not even a cute nickname"--before settling at your side once again with a few gentle kisses to the side of your neck. You let one of your hands move upwards and into his soft hair to rub delicately at his scalp and smiles when he voiced his appreciation with a hum.

Though you wouldn't ever admit it to Sam, the koala bear documentary was actually pretty engaging. You learned things that you never would've known about the not-so-adorable marsupial you compared your boyfriend to, such as the fact that the majority of them have chlamydia. Did you really need to know that? Probably not.

The documentary was a little more than half-way through when you began to assume that your Sammy had fallen asleep. You hadn't heard a single word from him, not even when the narrator revealed that koala bears have incredibly small brains, and you were sure that if he were awake, he would have some more words about being called a koala. You decided to leave the documentary on, anyway, as grossly informative as it was. Maybe, you could fall asleep to the drone of the narrator's voice, too.

And, you were just beginning to feel drowsy when Sam shifted from where he had pressed himself into your side and jolted you from your spot. You resituated yourself, snuggling in close to him and resting your cheek comfortably against the top of his head. Then, he moved again, and in turn, moved you again.

"What are you doing?"

"Sorry," came his murmured reply.

"Do you want me to scoot over or something?"

He shook his head, then tightened his arms around your waist. You felt yourself beginning to relax in his hold once again, and you were so so sure you were going to doze off. Until he squirmed again, that is.

You pushed yourself up and out of his arms with an annoyed huff, "Sam, what--"

That's when you felt the brush of his cock against your thigh, half-hard and just beginning to strain against the flimsy fabric of his shorts. His brows furrowed upwards just a touch and he made a sound so pretty and so soft you almost didn't hear it. At once, your body warmed with arousal.

"Oh," you sounded, smirking a little as you watched a flush color Sam's cheeks. "What's got you all worked up, baby? It wasn't the koala thing, was it?"

"No, you sicko! Just--" he huffed. "--touch me?"

You sat up straighter, then let your hand rest on Sam's collarbone for a moment, before dragging your fingertips downwards. You moved leisurely and kept the pressure feather-light, until you reached the delightfully exposed skin of his hip. Then, toyed with the waistband of his shorts and he bucked his hips upwards, as if to plead with you. So, you tore your hand away.

"Come on, baby," he whined. "Don't tease."

"Don't whine," you countered with a chuckle. "I've hardly even touched you."

"That's the fucking problem..." he muttered.

You rolled your eyes at his complaining. It was useless, really. He always got whatever he wanted.

Sam opened his mouth to complain even further, so you surged forward and captured his lips in a kiss before he had the chance to actually get any words out. He reached up and held your face in the palm of his hands and when he deepened the kiss with a tilt of his head, you had no choice but to follow. You basked in the moment, melting against the warmth of his fingers on your cheeks and the sweetness of his lips on yours. Sam always kissed you like he needed you; he breathed in every drift of you essence and left nothing behind.

When he broke away with a quiet gasp for air, you took the chance to slip your hands beneath his shirt and smooth them up his chest. His skin was soft and a little warm and completely addicting. You wanted to take your time and kiss every inch of it, but you knew that Sam wouldn't have the patience for that. So, you raked your blunt nails down his side and watched him shudder, just to give yourself a little rush of satisfaction.

With grabby hands, Sam tugged at your waist until you were seated in his lap.

"You're so lovely, Sammy. The sweetest man I know and the prettiest thing I've ever seen," praise feathered unrestrained from your lips. He was so lovely, and outstandingly so when he was looking up at you with sweet eyes and lips just a little swollen and parted slightly. You wanted to snap a thousand pictures of that very moment and hoard every single one of them like gold stolen from the sea.

And it just came so naturally to you to praise him. It was damn-near impossible not to voice the thoughts whenever they made themselves known. He soaked it in, too; he never denied any of what you said and always put a little quirk to his brow that said tell me more, please, if you were to see fit. And, of course, you would always acquiesce to his desire. How could you ever deny him, anyway?

"Thank you," he returned in a whisper, giving your hips a little squeeze.

"How often do you think I tell you that?"

"Every day, maybe," he answered with a shrug. "Don't stop, though."

You giggled, "I won't. Couldn't if I tried, actually."

He connected your lips again, before moving downwards and pressing soft, urgent kisses to the skin of your jaw and throat. You tilted your head, giving his lips more flesh to rove over and then, you selfishly tangled your fingers in his hair to keep him from moving from where you wanted him. He was quick to make his way to your collar bones, kissing and nipping and tugging at your top to reveal more skin to his wandering lips.

"Lemme take this off," he huffed, adorably displeased with the fact that your shirt--his shirt, actually; you'd stolen it from the dryer--was hindering him from getting what he wanted. The moment you nodded in affirmation, he tugged the garment over your head and tossed it aside. He then continued his work with an pleased hum and a playful bite to the skin just above your breast. He had always liked to mark you up a little; you didn't mind.

Before Sam could get much further than that, however, you took his face in your hand and created a distance between his lips and your chest. You slanted his chin and guided him to look at you. He stuck that plush bottom lip of his out and you chuckled. Truthfully, seeing him pout just because he couldn't kiss you was flattering, and it went straight to your head.

You spoke with a sultry edge to your tone, tucking a loose strand of hair behind Sam's ear as you did, "So, really... What's got you all needy, sweet boy?"

"You just look so pretty," he said softly, his cheeks flushed a lovely shade of pink. "And you're wearing my shirt, you know that?"

"Yeah, I know." You punctuated your words with a kiss to his jaw. "Do you think it looks good on me?"

"So good," he agreed, still with that pouty look on his face, as if he were trying to garner your pity, or something- how cute. "It looks better on you than it does on me."

Sam's hands began to roam, then, grabbing at your hips and your thighs and pulling you so close you might have been able to feel his heartbeat if you were to sit still enough. He blinked up at you as he voiced a request, his eyes so sweet you nearly lost your sense of control. "Ride me."

You were tempted to just take him right then and there. It would be so easy to just free his cock from his shorts, slip your panties to the side, and-- No. You forced yourself to take a steadying breath. If there was anything you loved more than indulging Sam, it was making him beg a little. You wanted to tease him some, you wanted to dangle his treat in front of his face and yank it out of reach when his fingers got too close, just to hear him whine like a spoiled brat.

"Hm," you said, dropping your fingers from his face and crossing your arms over your chest. "Ask me nicely, first."

He let out a displeased huff that had you biting back a smirk. "Please, ride me?"

"You just want me to do all the work, don't you?"

"Come on, baby," he complained. His fingers tightening their hold on you, and petulantly so. "You know I could flip you over and fuck you, right now. And you know you wouldn't have to lift a damn finger."

"Why are you asking me to ride you, then?"

He gave an over-exaggerated groan of frustration and kissed you again. After a few moments, you pulled away to speak, "It's okay, Sammy. I know it's just because you're a little pillow princess who likes being treated."

His cheeks colored and his mouth dropped open in faux-offense. "I am not!"

You laughed. "I'm not saying it like it's a bad thing." You pressed a kiss to his chin, then another to the corner of his mouth, as if to make up for your words. You weren't sorry, though, not truly. You continued on, "I love when you get all pretty and willing for me."

His eyes went a little moony then, but he didn't reply. A rush of desire swelled in your stomach, and you knew you had him right where you wanted him: under your thumb and desperate to come, though you'd barely just started.

You chose then to reach up and unclasp your bra. Sam watched with a bitten lip as you slid the straps from your shoulders and dropped the garment to the floor. Your fingers were at his waistband, next, and you were motioning for him to lift his hips and shoving his shorts down his thighs. His cock sprang free almost instantly, apparently unrestrained by anything other by the silken fabric of his bottoms. You glanced up at him with a quirked brow.

"No underwear?"

"Nah, why would I need it?"

You laughed a little as you brought your hand downwards, your fingers appreciatively stroking the skin of his inner thigh. He was so, so soft there, and the thought of leaning down and nipping at that flesh until he squirmed briefly crossed your mind. If he wasn't already so impatient, you would have. But you knew that it would be cruel to prolong his wait much further.

So, you lifted your hand back up, slowly and lightly dragging the pad of your thumb along the length of his shaft. You stopped once you reached the head, rubbing at the velvet-like skin beneath the swell for just a moment before pulling away. You were going to give him what he wanted soon enough, anyway, so why not make him just a little more desperate? In response, Sam bucked his hips and sucked in a sharp, shuddering breath.

"Stop being mean," he voiced, whiny and alluringly desolate. "I'm so hard it hurts."

"Awe, baby, I know," you cooed, rubbing at his hip as soothingly as you could while also not making any move to give him what he needed. "You've been so patient, haven't you?" He nodded at you, and you could feel your panties grow damp as you praised him, "That's right, Sammy. You've been so good for me."

He whimpered, holding your cheeks in the palms of his hands and kissing the noise right into your mouth. Those hands didn't stay still for long, however; they never did. He let them roam your body, reminding himself of every curve and revisiting the spots that made you shiver. Though a little distracted by his fervent lips and hands, you reached down and pulled your panties to the side.

"Before I sit on that lovely, needy cock of yours, I want you to tell me what you are." It wasn't a question, it was a demand, spoken with a voice as desperate as Sam's as you shifted your hips and ground your core softly against his shaft.

He laughed, shaking off his poutiness for just a moment. "Are you really going to make me say it?"

"Tell me," you reiterated firmly, rolling your hips once more.

"Fuck-" he huffed, his brows tipping upwards. "I'm a pillow princess- no, yours. Your princess."

"Good," you lauded, pleased with his response. And as a reward, you raised your hips and finally sank down on his cock.

His reaction was instant: a sweet moan as he tossed his head back onto the arm of the couch. You worked up to a steady pace rather quickly; no longer could you make Sam or yourself wait. His hands found their rightful place on your hips, his fingers digging into the flesh their, all desperate and rough. You reveled in the sting of the pressure.

"Fuck, baby- that's it," he sputtered with a gasp.

"Yeah?" you implored with a sharp pant, your fingers grasping his chin and tilting his head so that you were facing each other. When he gazed at you with those eyes as sweet as caramel candy, you could feel your core give a pathetic throb. Why did he have to look at you like that? Like you'd hung the moon and painted the stars and breathed life into the sun? To keep yourself from faltering over the rush of adoration you felt for your lover, you continued on, "Tell me about it, sweet boy. I wanna know just how good I'm making you feel."

"Feels so fucking good. You're so tight- and soft. So soft and warm. Like-" he cut himself off with a sob as you began to move your hips at a punishing pace. You couldn't fucking take it, anymore. You needed to make him come, perhaps more than you even wanted to come yourself. He began to moan in earnest, then, depraved sounds broken by curses and sharp intakes of breath.

You knew he had to be close. He was shaking and he couldn't even keep his eyes open, even as you planted your palm at the base of his throat and requested he keep his gaze on you. And his cheeks were so red, too- Fuck, you were close, you could feel it rising inside of you sooner than you would have expected it. Well, you supposed you should've expected it. Sam just had that unbelievable, irreversible effect on you.

"I need-" he panted brokenly, his hands moving to claw at your ass and pull you in closer. "Harder, sweetheart. Please- need it harder."

Without a word, you complied, rising and falling and grinding with an increased force. Your thighs were burning and you knew your skin had a sheen of sweat, but it didn't matter. The only thing you could think about was Sam: the warmth of his fingers on your skin, the debauched sounds tumbling from his lips, and the furrow of his brow as he came with hardly any warning.

The sensation of it warmed you to your core, and your slowed your heavy movements to just slow, steady rolls of your hips, aiming to hit that electric spot deep inside. You knew you weren't going to last much longer- he fit you so well. Every pronounced ridge of his pretty cock rubbed against your walls so pleasingly that it was enough to drive you mad.

"You were fucking made for this," you voiced raggedly. "Made for me."

"Uh-huh," he whined in agreement.

You moaned, your head falling forward as warm sparks began to shoot up your spine and dance along the tips of your fingers and your toes. "I'm so close."

"Come, baby. Need it- it's too much, please."

"Get me there, Sammy," you urged brokenly.

Sam's fingers tightened around you with a force, then, as he flexed his thighs and plunged into you. He looked like the most divine picture of beauty beneath you, with his hair all strewn about and his lips parted ever so slightly. It was that, alongside his sweet pleas, that made you come undone with a gasp and a curse.

You worked yourself through it, slowly and surely coming to a stop. Your breath was coming in heaves; you couldn't help it. You noticed that Sam's fingers had ceased up on their relentless hold, and were instead lovingly stroking at your hips.

"That was so good, baby," he murmured. "Always so good."

With a flush on your cheeks, you leaned down and pressed a sweet kiss to his plush lips. When you parted, you replied, "So are you, my love."

Smiling, Sam glanced over to the television, only for his brows to furrow. "What the fuck?"

"What?" you pulled away, confused.

"That stupid koala documentary is still going!"

You looked over and sure enough, the koala bear documentary was still playing, and seemed to be nowhere near its end. You smirked. "Do you wanna finish it?"

"Nope," Sam replied with a pop on the 'p', sitting up and jostling you from where you were still sat in his lap. "I just put that on so I could fall asleep."

"I knew it!"

#okay this is…oh my god #I was going to save it for my bedtime story tonight but I’m glad I didn’t #it’s so good I’m going to read it a million more times #sam kiszka #k reads

139 notes · View notes