Tied to Sam

Sam and Cora's first story appeared in the 'First Time' category. Quite a few readers asked for more (thank you for such lovely feedback) and so, with more than a little trepidation (because it's hard to send characters out into the world after spending so much time with them), here's a second chapter about them.

It can be read independently of their first encounter, although it's probably better to get their backstory before reading this installment.

If you're nervous of being left on a cliffhanger, don't be. This episode has a beginning, middle and end that are hopefully satisfactory.

Everyone in this story is over the age of 18.

Please leave a comment if you'd like to, because I really enjoy reading them.

+++

The bus is inching its way along the road and I can't stop myself from tapping my phone with tight impatience. I stare out of the window, made grimy by the sharp sunlight, willing the bus to move faster, but it makes no difference. In fact, the opposite happens as the bus grinds to a complete standstill. I grimace; tap out a message to Sam.

'Bus slower than a Very Slow Thing. Be there when I can. X'

It's been seven very, very long weeks since we've seen each other. And I've missed him more than I thought possible. Missed him so much it's felt like physical pain. Up until then, we've been managing to see each other at least every couple of weeks since I went back to college in September. But at the beginning of May his mum, Mary, had another stroke just the day before Sam was due to come up to see me. She's ok now, hopefully.

Anyway, the following weekend I'd booked advance tickets to go down to London the trains were cancelled, because some cretins had stolen the overhead lines. That happens, apparently. Sold for their scrap value. And then I was into finals - a three-week purgatory of black coffee, revision, sweaty palms, bad sleep and examinations.

I look up to see a couple of passengers banging on the doors, demanding the driver let them off the bus. A loud argument ensues until, after five loud and sweary minutes, the driver capitulates (and breaks all health and safety regulations) and opens the doors. Everyone starts piling out of the bus.

'Looks like an accident up ahead,' the woman sitting next to me says before she, too, stands up and steps off the bus.

I sigh.

'You getting off, love?' the driver calls to me.

Even now, the universe is conspiring to keep me from Sam. I start walking. It's probably only just over a mile and the sun is out, so it could be worse. My phone vibrates in my hand. It's Sam.

'No worries. I'm just here doing some work and waiting for you. X'

My heart does a little flip. Huh. I'm nervous. It's been so long since I've seen him. But that's not the only reason. We've also had a bit of a scare. My period was late last month and, for a few days, we'd contemplated the possibility of me being pregnant. I wasn't. But it'd been a tough thing to deal with when we couldn't be with each other. I've worried each time Sam sounds distracted or distant on the phone. What if the prospect of a baby has made him realise I wasn't who he wanted to spend the rest of his life with? What if he's regretting the whole thing? What if I'm not living up to his ideal of me? Scary thoughts.

I'm coming up to where the accident is, except it's not an average looking accident. A white van has mounted the pavement on the other side of the road, smacking into a phone box in the process, but the van itself is empty, the doors flung wide open, no sign of a driver or any passengers. A plastic bag abandoned on the road. Two police cars look to have been in pursuit; now stationary behind it. More unusually, it's completely surrounded by armed police. Pedestrians like me are being kept away by incident tape and more police of the average kind - no guns - who wave us on, encouraging us to keep moving.

My phone vibrates again.

'How much longer? I'm missing you x'

I smile and almost hug myself. I can't wait to see him. And I've got a little surprise I hope he'll like. I quicken my pace.

+++

'Hi! I'm here, finally! Sam?' calling up the stairs as I push the front door closed with my foot. 'Sam?'

'Up here. I'm on a call with Sanjeev.'

I take the stairs two at a time, duck my head into my room at the front of the house. He's sitting at my desk talking to Sanjeev on Skype. I dump my bag on the floor then retreat to the bathroom for a pee and to wash my hands and face. He's still talking when I get back, so I walk over and wave.

'Hi Sanjeev.'

'Oh hi, Cora. We're just about finished here, so you can have Sam back.'

He's smiling at me, then looks back to Sam. They start drawing their conversation to a conclusion. I lie my hand flat on the back of Sam's neck and feel the tremor skip through his spine. I love the way his body responds to my touch. I leave it there, anticipating what it will feel like to rub my palm over his hair where it's so short at the back, where it feels smooth one way and rough the other. He's just had it cut, by the look of it. Huh.

I rub my thumb against the gold chain he wears, pressing it into his skin. He squirms in the chair a little bit and I smile. Sam's really here. At last.

He finally reaches forward and kills the screen. And swivels in the chair, grabbing me to pull me down to his face.

'Hey, beautiful,' as he tips his mouth to mine and kisses me.

He's a little bit tentative. It's not just me who might be nervous, then. Huh. I open my eyes to look into his. They're as blue as always and, yes, they seem full of questions. I pull back.

'I'm so happy to see you, Sam,' I say.

'Me too, C. Me too.'

He pulls me down for another kiss. Less tentative. Nice. We lose ourselves in it until his laptop dings. An incoming email.

'Mmm, sorry Cora, but I said I'd look at what Sanjeev has written now so we can get the application off by the end of today.'

'Ok,' I shrug. They're applying for another round of funding for their business. 'Want me to help proofread it?' I offer, and Sam nods.

I look around my room. I've packed all my stuff into boxes and plastic crates, ready to move out and for us to drive it back to London tomorrow. I pull a couple of the crates over to the desk, pile one on top of the other and sit, looking over Sam's shoulder at what he's got onscreen. We read it together. I make some suggestions to improve the language and spot some typos. He makes the changes while I sit there feeling happy to be this close to him, breathing in his distinctive smell of soap and washing detergent and - well - just him. Watching his fingers tapping over the keyboard. I shuffle myself closer, close enough that my breath brushes his skin and I look, fascinated, as his short hairs rise up in response. He shivers.

'That tickles,' he murmurs as he taps away at the keyboard.

I smile. To myself, I suppose, as he can't see me, the way I'm sitting just behind him.

'You're just over-sensitive,' I tease him.

He hits 'send' with a flourish, then hooks his arm up and around my head to pull me down to his face again, dropping his head back to meet me, treating us both to another very nice kiss. His tongue strokes mine in a slow, deep exploration of my mouth. My body starts to heat up. It's been so long. I slide my hand up into his hair; feel the tremor down his back and his intake of breath.

'Sam,' I whisper against his lips, pulling away to see the look on his face. 'I've missed you so much.'

He nods, his eyes flicking open, a pink flush crawling up his throat.

'Me too, Cora. It's been much too long.'

We kiss again. The first time we ever did this, we'd made a joke of how we might be bad at it and would need lots of practice. I smile to myself again, remembering. Sam senses it.

'What?' he asks, stroking the back of my head where he's holding it in his hand.

'I'm just remembering when we first ever kissed and how we made a joke about being bad at it.'

'Almost a year ago,' he replies, a little uptick of his mouth making me want to kiss him stupid.

'Mmhmm,' and I do kiss him, watching his eyelids slide down and flicker at the same time as his mouth opens to mine.

Another ding from his laptop and we both open an eye each. Reluctantly, I pull back and watch as he turns to look at the screen again.

'Uh - he wants me to check these figures,' he says apologetically.

We both sigh with impatience. But then I remind myself that we have all summer - and beyond - to be with each other, and a few more minutes of patience isn't going to kill us.

I rub and smooth the back of his neck again, enjoying the curve and dip of it. He has a beautiful neck. A neat hairline where his short light brown hairs look almost painted on, they are so even. A hairline that curves up and over his ears. His skin soft and - although I might tease him about being pinky white - here, his skin is almost golden from the sun. He squirms some more, and adjusts himself; getting aroused, I think. I settle myself to wait, watching over his shoulder as he works. He chews at the side of his mouth while he scans the columns of figures. The overhead buzz of a helicopter impinges on my consciousness. The police, maybe, trying to find whoever abandoned that van. Sam sighs, leans back in the chair. I glance up at the screen to see he's sent the document back to Sanjeev.

'Done?'

He nods. Pushes a hand through his hair. I get a hint of his clean smell.

'How's Mary, Sam?'

He drops his head back to rest on the arm I've stretched out along the top of his chair.

'She's doing alright now,' he says, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he speaks.

'Good.'

I can't resist stroking my hand lightly down the front of his throat, he looks so good like that. And the feel of his stubble isn't so bad either.

'She can't wait to see you.'

'We'll go the day after tomorrow?'

'Mmm.'

I push my hand into his shirt where it's open at the neck, greedy to feel his soft skin, the light brown hairs down the centre of his chest. I watch and feel him. It's like he's unfurling himself for me, his breathing deepening as I stroke him. I keep going, knowing how much he loves to be touched like this. I press my hand against the cotton of his shirt, wanting to reach further. His eyes flick open, his mouth ticks up, and he reaches to undo the buttons.

'Nice?'

He nods.

'More?'

He nods again, his eyelids looking heavy. I push his shirt apart, stroking and skimming over his chest with the palm of my hand, running my fingertips over his nipples, feeling him twitch at my touch. His ribcage lifts and compresses as he breathes, each exhalation accompanied by small tremors across his stomach. He leans back further, easing his hips to the edge of the seat. Hmm. Definitely getting hard.

I return my hand to his face, to turn him towards me so I can kiss him. He opens for me but I tease him a little, licking and lightly biting at his lower lip. And then track my hand back down his neck, over his Adam's apple again and down to the dip of his collarbone where I press and swirl my thumb, smoothing over the crucifix he still wears. I'm sure Sam's temperature is rising. I know mine is. I flick my tongue into his mouth.

His eyes open. His pupils are blown wide. I love that look.

So much.

Huh.

He watches my face as my hand moves down his chest, circling around his nipples again, his eyelashes flickering at that; his eyes widening as I return with firmer intent to his stomach that ripples and pulls at my touch. Air pushes down his nose and I know he's trying not to laugh, he's so ticklish.

I sit up, releasing his mouth so he can breathe more freely. Look down at how he's sitting in the chair, his shirt open and undone all the way. I push it wider, to see more of his chest, dragging my hand along the hair running from his navel into the waistband of his jeans. His muscles tug and contract, and I'm able to slip my hand beneath his jeans into his boxers.

He grunts and stops my hand. Then plucks at the buttons of his fly. I bend in to his neck to kiss and lick him; feel him exhale deeply as he manages to pull himself free of his jeans and underwear. He's really hard.

'Have you missed me, then?' I whisper.

He's pulling at me. but I resist, wanting this to be all about him. He shudders as I run my tongue up and down his neck and feel his body shift as he flexes his hips upwards. I hum quietly against his chest, listening as his breathing intensifies, vibrating against my lips.

'Nice?'

He sighs.

'Cora,' said as though it's home.

I look up, at how his neck is so exposed, the way he's dropped his head to rest on my arm stretched along the back of the chair, his shirt falling to either side of his body, both arms relaxed now, hands flat on his thighs. Sexy.

I urge him to turn towards me, bending over to kiss him, feeling one of his hands surging into my hair to hold me close to his face. It's a kiss that tilts the world on its axis, slow, tender and breathless. He holds my look but his eyes are glazing over.

I know that look, and suddenly, it's all I want to do - to make him come.

I slide, scratch and dig my hand across and down his exposed chest, listening to the ebb and flow of Sam's breathing, the way it hitches in his throat; feeling the movement of his hips as he rolls them in search of my touch. But I'm in control. My hand skips and skims all around his cock, pushing his jeans and underwear down further to dance and flick along the top of his thighs. He grunts when my arm brushes against him, hot and very wet, and more urgently when it happens a second time. But I'm not planning on touching him yet. His cock will have to wait.

I push at his mouth to make him open his eyes, to give him a look he'll understand. He groans with frustration, realising I'm going to tease him a little bit longer. I smile, dragging my hand back up to his stomach, caressing him, teasing him, enjoying how much he's writhing around, at how his muscles flutter under my touch. How his hips are rolling.

'You look so good, Sam,' I whisper.

'Please, Cora -,' his eyes suddenly wide.

'Hmm, are you going to come for me?'

Almost before the words are out of my mouth, Sam's biting back a yell, snatching my hand in his and wrapping it around his cock as the first spurts of come land on his chest.

'Oh, Sam.'

I watch, fascinated by how he fights and pants his way through his orgasm; the strength of it, but how soft and open he looks at the same time. Especially his eyes - almost all pupil, black and deep. His cock jerks and pulses, hot and very sticky in our hands now.

'Oh Sam,' I breathe again, giving him a light kiss on the corner of his mouth.

He tugs me close to him and I lie my head in the crook of his neck, while we wait for him to catch his breath. I watch his chest heaving and idly dip a finger into one of the pools of come on his chest, lifting it to my lips to taste him.

Sitting up, I touch the same finger to his lips. Soft and warm. He sucks at it, pulling it into his mouth, his eyes starting to focus on me again.

'You're beautiful when you come, Sam.'

He stares at me, still not really able to focus. I kiss him where he's sucking at my finger in his mouth. When I pull back, he exhales. Blinks. That tick of his mouth.

'What am I? Fourteen again?'

I smile.

He smiles back. Slowly. One eyebrow raised.

'Proves you really missed me?'

He snorts.

'You didn't even touch me. I haven't done that since I was a teenager. Seriously.'

'It was sexy to watch.'

I pull at the box of tissues that sit on my desk, pluck a couple out and start to clean up Sam's chest and stomach. He's still pretty hard. I give him an enquiring look, and he just grins, tips his chin up.

'Ready when you are,' he says.

'Oh really?'

But he's snatching me to his chest, pressing me to him with both arms and kissing the top of my head.

'Bloody hell, I've missed you, Cora.'

We hold on to each other like this for a while, enjoying the stillness and the quiet. I feel his heart beat, trace the pulse at the base of his neck; tuck myself into him as wholly as I can.

I think about how much has passed between us during the last seven weeks. Us waiting for my period, me too embarrassed to even buy a test from the chemist (I know - ridiculous. My housemate Kam nearly lost it with me about that); the relief when it came. Four days late. Just four days, but in that time, I'd confronted a lot of things about how I felt about Sam. I'd ached to see his face, to know how he was really feeling too. Then Mary's stroke happened. I'd searched for a train fare back to London we could afford, but there was nothing, and so I'd stayed here while Sam had had to cope by himself.

We'd spent long hours talking on the phone, me listening to his heavy fears and silences. He only has her. His dad walked out more than twenty years ago, never to be seen or heard of again. Sam has his brothers, but they're so much older than him; at totally different stages of life. And then I'd been trapped up here, taking my final exams in a self-imposed purdah. It's been a lot to deal with.

He rubs my back with his arm. I shuffle myself against him, aware of the police helicopter circling overhead again.

'Cops seem busy,' Sam murmurs.

'That's Rusholme for you,' I joke. And then; 'How was the drive up?'

'Pretty good. Four hours, more or less.' He kisses my hair. 'When do you want to pack your stuff into the car? Now or tomorrow?'

I sigh. 'I think we can do it tomorrow. We have to wait for the landlord to come over at nine to hand over the keys and do the inspection anyway, so we might as well pack the car then.'

'Ok.'

He sits more upright in the chair and pulls at me, wanting me to sit on his lap, both of us appreciating the fact he's still pretty stiff and smiling at each other in anticipation. I stand up and shimmy my hips, reaching under my dress to pull my knickers down my legs, giggling at the way Sam's eyes are almost popping out of his head.

'Cora -?'

He's twisting around in the chair, looking for his bag, for the condoms he'll have in there, but I ignore that, push his thighs together to fit myself over them, and onto his lap, lifting my skirt up and out of the way.

'Cora?' he asks again, looking at me questioningly. 'You know this isn't safe don't you?'

I stroke his cheek.

'Surprise, Sam - I'm on the pill now, so this is as safe as can be.'

I tip my hips and wriggle myself closer to his cock. I'm sure it's just twitched and got a little bit harder.

'Huh. When did you do that?'

His hands slide around my waist and he's grinning at me, looking like the cat that got the cream.

'As soon as my period finally came.'

'Really? I thought you weren't that keen on the pill?'

I shrug. 'I talked with the GP about it. The risks are pretty low and it's really the best option for us. Especially as I'll be back in London from now on and we'll be seeing more of each other.'

'Hmm,' he hums in approval, pulling on my hips again, wanting me closer.

We both shudder as we touch, Sam's so hot and hard.

It feels so good.

Mmmhmm. I tilt my hips.

'Oh Cora. So wet,' Sam groans, pushing his lips into my neck and his hips up towards mine, lifting and rolling us together.

We've never felt each other like this. Skin to skin. We've always been so careful. I can't stop a tiny, thrilling claw of fear tickle the back of my mind as we slip and slide against each other, exalting in how much better it feels like this. Sam feels it too. He's making quiet, sexy noises into my throat, and picking up the tempo underneath me. As for me, I think my heart might be about to jump out of my chest and dance around the room, it's beating so excitedly.

The helicopter is really buzzing overhead now, really loud, like it's about to land on the roof.