Fic: Think of Me
Title: Think of Me
Author: Mary (stillxmyxheart)
Beta: Lindsay (nylana)
Rating: Adult
Genre: Smut
Word Count: 1,560
Characters/Pairings: Sam, April (Sam/April)
Summary: He always thinks about her.
A/N: Inspired by my April/Sam tie graphic/snippet, which I did not MAKE with the intention of writing smut, but things led to things, and the braintwin is a dirty enabler. Enjoy, bbs XD
"Green or gold?" Sam says, staring at his reflection in the mirror.
"Which do you like best?" April asks.
Sam throws a look at her over his shoulder, noticing her cheeky grin.
"If I could figure that out, I wouldn't need you," he retorts, turning back towards the mirror.
He hears her giggle and his eyes flick to her reflection. She's sitting on the edge of his desk, one tanned leg draped over the other, her feet swinging gently back and forth. His eyes roam over the line of her thighs to the curve of her knees, down the swell of her calves to her feet, and he smirks when he reaches her shoes. They're a shining, deep purple, perfectly matching the purple in her dress, and his smile widens. Any other woman would have probably worn black shoes with that dress, to match the black lace overlay, but not her. It's one of his favorite things about her.
He looks at himself again, alternating between the two ties before he scowls and turns to face her.
"Really, though, which is better?"
April tilts her head to the side as she looks at him, her fingers curling over the edge of the desk as she leans forward slightly.
"They both look nice," she says indecisively.
He gives her another look. "You're not helping."
April's lips curve very slightly upward as he advances towards her.
"Well, I can't help noticing that I've been in here for ten minutes now, and you've yet to say anything about my new dress."
"It's nice," he says, throwing her words back at her and smirking when she rolls her eyes at him.
He stops just short of her crossed legs and lays the ties on the surface of the desk before bringing his hands to rest on her thighs. Her grin widens as his hands move slowly over her skin, nudging the hem of her dress higher, and she uncrosses her legs when his fingers venture to her inner thighs.
He shifts closer to her as her legs open wider, his hands moving nearer and nearer to her center. His fingertips brush wet silk and he grins when he hears her gasp and feels her twitch very slightly.
His hands move back to her thighs and she sighs in frustration as her fingers clench over the edge of the desk. His grin widens as he slides his hands under her dress and around her hips to grip her arse, yanking her right to the edge of the desk.
She laughs softly and slides one arm around his neck, her fingers threading in his hair as she pulls him down for a kiss. Her teeth nip gently at his lower lip and he feels a low rumble escape him, his hands tightening on her rear end as he presses against her.
His fingers slip over the waist of her knickers and he begins to tug them down; she shifts and he slips them from her hips, pulling them slowly down her legs. He works them carefully over her feet, making sure her shoes stay in place, and she grins when he glances up at her.
He drops the tiny scrap of black silk to the floor and straightens, his hands drifting up her legs and sliding down once more to stroke the skin of her inner thighs. He feels her muscles tense and the corner of his mouth rises as he pushes her legs further apart, leaning to kiss her again as he slides two thick fingers between her folds.
She gasps into his mouth, her hand tightening on his shoulder as her other hand braces on the desk, making a dull squeaking noise as it rubs against the polished wooden surface.
Her arousal coats his palm as he twists his fingers and he loves the noises she makes as her hips rock forward slightly, sliding along his fingers.
She's so wet for him and he feels the same sense of surprise that he did the first time they did this, and every time since, marveling that he's done this to her, that she wants him this badly.
His thumb brushes over her clit and her gasp is louder this time, her hips jerking against his hand.
"Fuck, Sam," she whispers, her eyelids fluttering closed.
He withdraws his fingers, smirking when she whimpers. Her eyelids snap open and she stares at him, eyes dark with desire. He offers her his fingers and she sucks them into her mouth, running her tongue over the length of each digit and making him think about the last time they did this, a week ago. He remembers watching her head bob between his legs, her hair shining with every move she made, remembers the way her tongue felt against his hard length, and his pants are suddenly far too tight.
He pulls his hand back and she allows his fingers to slide from her mouth, her lips curving into a sly grin as she reaches for his trousers.
Her fingers are quick and nimble on the fastenings and she nudges them until they skim down his legs, his belt buckle rattling softly when they hit the floor.
His fingers wind absently in her hair as she wraps a hand around him and strokes him fully hard, her grip light but firm. He was vaguely embarrassed the first time they did this and she had to work him ready. It's one of those unfortunate downfalls of aging, but now he likes when she brings him to where he needs to be with either her mouth or her hands, touching and stroking, licking and sucking, knowing how to make him moan.
He moans now, his fingers tightening in her hair as her name escapes his lips. He reaches for her hand, pulling it away and placing it gently on the desk before he steps closer to her.
She leans back slightly, bracing her hands on the desktop as he grips her legs and pulls them up against his sides before sliding slowly inside of her, watching her face all the while. Her mouth falls open as her eyes drift shut again and he stares at the perfect shape of her lips, watches as bites down on her bottom lip, her brow creasing when he's fully inside of her.
He sets the pace, his hips jerking forward as he pushes into her, relishing how tight she is, how soft and warm she feels, how well he fits inside of her. She's so young, too young for him, really, but it feels like he would be breaking some unwritten rule if he were to deny her when she so clearly wants him.
He leans forward slightly, his grip tightening on her thighs as he pushes deeper inside, and groans when she clenches around him, her heels digging into his arse and urging him even deeper.
He spares a thought as to whether or not the door to his office is locked, and then pushes it away. He's the Vice President; if he wants to have sex with the very willing Press Secretary on his desk, then he's going to, and to hell with what anybody else thinks.
She gasps his name, her hips rolling to match his movements, and he thrusts harder, desperate as he always is to satisfy her, to make her cry out his name as she comes.
She lifts one hand from the surface of his desk and slides it down to press against her clit. He glances down to watch the movements of her fingers, watching the way they slide as she rubs frantic circles over her sensitive nub, and he leans forward just as she comes, pressing his lips to hers and capturing her cry. His own end comes soon after and he moans her name into her mouth, his hands sliding to her hips and feeling their movement as she rocks forward slightly, still sliding along his length as her muscles clench around him.
He pulls her to him, his arms sliding around her waist as he presses his lips to her neck, waiting for the pounding in his chest to subside.
Her arms slip around his neck and she lays her head on his chest, her ankles locked at the backs of his thighs and holding him inside of her, keeping him close.
It's always this moment after, when she holds him so tightly, that he thinks this could be more than just sex, more than just the thrill of sharing a quick fuck in his office when they're both meant to be working.
She pulls back after a few minutes, smiling as she presses a kiss to his lips.
"So, which do you think?" he asks softly, reaching for the ties without pulling away from her.
"The gold," she murmurs, taking the silk tie from his hands and draping it around his neck. "It brings out your eyes," she continues as her fingers deftly loop the tie over and under until it's perfectly knotted.
She runs her fingers down the smooth front of the tie and then lifts her gaze to his face.
"Think of me when you look at it," she says, the corners of her mouth rising.
He smiles and leans forward to touch his lips to hers again.
He always thinks about her.
Author: Mary (stillxmyxheart)
Beta: Lindsay (nylana)
Rating: Adult
Genre: Smut
Word Count: 1,560
Characters/Pairings: Sam, April (Sam/April)
Summary: He always thinks about her.
A/N: Inspired by my April/Sam tie graphic/snippet, which I did not MAKE with the intention of writing smut, but things led to things, and the braintwin is a dirty enabler. Enjoy, bbs XD
"Green or gold?" Sam says, staring at his reflection in the mirror.
"Which do you like best?" April asks.
Sam throws a look at her over his shoulder, noticing her cheeky grin.
"If I could figure that out, I wouldn't need you," he retorts, turning back towards the mirror.
He hears her giggle and his eyes flick to her reflection. She's sitting on the edge of his desk, one tanned leg draped over the other, her feet swinging gently back and forth. His eyes roam over the line of her thighs to the curve of her knees, down the swell of her calves to her feet, and he smirks when he reaches her shoes. They're a shining, deep purple, perfectly matching the purple in her dress, and his smile widens. Any other woman would have probably worn black shoes with that dress, to match the black lace overlay, but not her. It's one of his favorite things about her.
He looks at himself again, alternating between the two ties before he scowls and turns to face her.
"Really, though, which is better?"
April tilts her head to the side as she looks at him, her fingers curling over the edge of the desk as she leans forward slightly.
"They both look nice," she says indecisively.
He gives her another look. "You're not helping."
April's lips curve very slightly upward as he advances towards her.
"Well, I can't help noticing that I've been in here for ten minutes now, and you've yet to say anything about my new dress."
"It's nice," he says, throwing her words back at her and smirking when she rolls her eyes at him.
He stops just short of her crossed legs and lays the ties on the surface of the desk before bringing his hands to rest on her thighs. Her grin widens as his hands move slowly over her skin, nudging the hem of her dress higher, and she uncrosses her legs when his fingers venture to her inner thighs.
He shifts closer to her as her legs open wider, his hands moving nearer and nearer to her center. His fingertips brush wet silk and he grins when he hears her gasp and feels her twitch very slightly.
His hands move back to her thighs and she sighs in frustration as her fingers clench over the edge of the desk. His grin widens as he slides his hands under her dress and around her hips to grip her arse, yanking her right to the edge of the desk.
She laughs softly and slides one arm around his neck, her fingers threading in his hair as she pulls him down for a kiss. Her teeth nip gently at his lower lip and he feels a low rumble escape him, his hands tightening on her rear end as he presses against her.
His fingers slip over the waist of her knickers and he begins to tug them down; she shifts and he slips them from her hips, pulling them slowly down her legs. He works them carefully over her feet, making sure her shoes stay in place, and she grins when he glances up at her.
He drops the tiny scrap of black silk to the floor and straightens, his hands drifting up her legs and sliding down once more to stroke the skin of her inner thighs. He feels her muscles tense and the corner of his mouth rises as he pushes her legs further apart, leaning to kiss her again as he slides two thick fingers between her folds.
She gasps into his mouth, her hand tightening on his shoulder as her other hand braces on the desk, making a dull squeaking noise as it rubs against the polished wooden surface.
Her arousal coats his palm as he twists his fingers and he loves the noises she makes as her hips rock forward slightly, sliding along his fingers.
She's so wet for him and he feels the same sense of surprise that he did the first time they did this, and every time since, marveling that he's done this to her, that she wants him this badly.
His thumb brushes over her clit and her gasp is louder this time, her hips jerking against his hand.
"Fuck, Sam," she whispers, her eyelids fluttering closed.
He withdraws his fingers, smirking when she whimpers. Her eyelids snap open and she stares at him, eyes dark with desire. He offers her his fingers and she sucks them into her mouth, running her tongue over the length of each digit and making him think about the last time they did this, a week ago. He remembers watching her head bob between his legs, her hair shining with every move she made, remembers the way her tongue felt against his hard length, and his pants are suddenly far too tight.
He pulls his hand back and she allows his fingers to slide from her mouth, her lips curving into a sly grin as she reaches for his trousers.
Her fingers are quick and nimble on the fastenings and she nudges them until they skim down his legs, his belt buckle rattling softly when they hit the floor.
His fingers wind absently in her hair as she wraps a hand around him and strokes him fully hard, her grip light but firm. He was vaguely embarrassed the first time they did this and she had to work him ready. It's one of those unfortunate downfalls of aging, but now he likes when she brings him to where he needs to be with either her mouth or her hands, touching and stroking, licking and sucking, knowing how to make him moan.
He moans now, his fingers tightening in her hair as her name escapes his lips. He reaches for her hand, pulling it away and placing it gently on the desk before he steps closer to her.
She leans back slightly, bracing her hands on the desktop as he grips her legs and pulls them up against his sides before sliding slowly inside of her, watching her face all the while. Her mouth falls open as her eyes drift shut again and he stares at the perfect shape of her lips, watches as bites down on her bottom lip, her brow creasing when he's fully inside of her.
He sets the pace, his hips jerking forward as he pushes into her, relishing how tight she is, how soft and warm she feels, how well he fits inside of her. She's so young, too young for him, really, but it feels like he would be breaking some unwritten rule if he were to deny her when she so clearly wants him.
He leans forward slightly, his grip tightening on her thighs as he pushes deeper inside, and groans when she clenches around him, her heels digging into his arse and urging him even deeper.
He spares a thought as to whether or not the door to his office is locked, and then pushes it away. He's the Vice President; if he wants to have sex with the very willing Press Secretary on his desk, then he's going to, and to hell with what anybody else thinks.
She gasps his name, her hips rolling to match his movements, and he thrusts harder, desperate as he always is to satisfy her, to make her cry out his name as she comes.
She lifts one hand from the surface of his desk and slides it down to press against her clit. He glances down to watch the movements of her fingers, watching the way they slide as she rubs frantic circles over her sensitive nub, and he leans forward just as she comes, pressing his lips to hers and capturing her cry. His own end comes soon after and he moans her name into her mouth, his hands sliding to her hips and feeling their movement as she rocks forward slightly, still sliding along his length as her muscles clench around him.
He pulls her to him, his arms sliding around her waist as he presses his lips to her neck, waiting for the pounding in his chest to subside.
Her arms slip around his neck and she lays her head on his chest, her ankles locked at the backs of his thighs and holding him inside of her, keeping him close.
It's always this moment after, when she holds him so tightly, that he thinks this could be more than just sex, more than just the thrill of sharing a quick fuck in his office when they're both meant to be working.
She pulls back after a few minutes, smiling as she presses a kiss to his lips.
"So, which do you think?" he asks softly, reaching for the ties without pulling away from her.
"The gold," she murmurs, taking the silk tie from his hands and draping it around his neck. "It brings out your eyes," she continues as her fingers deftly loop the tie over and under until it's perfectly knotted.
She runs her fingers down the smooth front of the tie and then lifts her gaze to his face.
"Think of me when you look at it," she says, the corners of her mouth rising.
He smiles and leans forward to touch his lips to hers again.
He always thinks about her.