FIC: Just a Little Insight (9/?) Popular, Sam/Brooke
Just A Little Insight (9/?)
By Misty Flores
Teaser: It was the sharp realization, sitting at that dinner table, as soon as Harrison had chosen her and Sam's eyes welled up with tears, that for all her protestations of sisterly love to the world about Sam, she was incredibly, hopelessly, desperately, IN love with her. There was enough difference in that statement to completely destroy any sense of stability she had.
Series: Popular, Sam/Brooke, Brooke/other, Sam/other
Spoilers: Post SII
CHAPTERS
Prologue | Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V| Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII
--
PART NINE - Lay Down a List of What Is Wrong
If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me
And just forget the world?
-- Chasing Cars
Her relationship with Sam had never been physical.
It wasn't even because she and Sam weren't touchy people. Nicole had always been physically affectionate, an arm thrown around her, linking her hand through her elbow as they made their way down the hallways. She had seen Lily and Carmen and once in a blue moon, Harrison, cuddle up to Sam.
It could have been hate or the attraction, or the awkwardness, but even after they became friends, Sam had always kept her literally, arm's length.
She remembered an awkward hug, during that first year, because it was Christmas and Sam had been in a generous mood. Besides a handshake, that first year, the limitation of affection between the two of them had been a brawl that had included the entire cafeteria.
It was funny how, even now, she remembered those moments so clearly: the strength in Sam's handshake when they decided to compromise, the rise and fall of Sam's chest when they hugged tenuously, the smell of the apple blossom scented she had used and the ridiculous berries she had stuck in her hair in a misguided attempt at festivity.
Two years later, Sam had come willingly into her bed, had lain against her in a physical need to be beside her. Brown hair spilled over her outstretched arm and the feel of Sam's cheek rested against it. Across her chest was Sam's slender palm, spread out against the abdomen, fingers reaching just to the point where her shirt rode up and a sliver of belly was revealed. When Sam's fingers moved, she tickled the air, a sensitive shot of feeling that made her catch her breath.
She managed a muted smile, threading fingers through Sam's brunette hair, feeling the silky slide of the strands against her fingers. Maybe this was why they wouldn't touch - it didn't feel like this when Nicole hugged her.
"What's so funny?"
Caught, Brooke let out a sigh, raising her head slightly to glance at the girl in her arms. Head shifting so that her chin now rested on her shoulder, Brooke was treated to a beautiful, if not a little suspicious, smile.
"I was just thinking," Brooke told her, and then because she could, reached over, tracing her fingertip down the line of Sam's face, from her earlobe to her jaw.
They hadn't said much of anything since Sam's confession. There had been an overwhelming desire to keep silent, to simply feel, and Brooke understood the temptation. Too many things went wrong when they talked.
And really, what could they talk about? What else could they say?
Everything, she answered herself. There was the bubble of this night but in the morning, there would be questions, lots of them, and then there would be school, and who was to say that Sam wanted to date her anyway?
"You're thinking again," Sam whispered, and tilted her head into Brooke's palm, savoring the touch. The sight caused a sudden spike of emotion, and she smiled sadly.
"It's kinda hard to shut my brain off," Brooke said softly. "I brood."
Expressive, pouty lips turned upside down, and they were lush and soft. Brooke's palm slid over, until her thumb pressed against the underside of Sam's mouth.
"You know we should talk about stuff..." Brooke managed, when dark eyes turned darker, and the lips underneath her touch grew still.
The fingers on her stomach inched lower, and Brooke gasped lightly, when the digits dug lightly under her shirt, until the flat of Sam's palm was now pressed against Brooke's sensitive skin, smoothing lightly.
Lips caught hold of her thumb, and a rush of arousal jerked down into her groin when she caught sight of Sam taking her finger into her mouth, enclosing her in moist wetness, sucking lightly.
"Oh, God, Sam," she whispered, like she was being tortured.
Dark eyes bored into her, impossibly deep, and whatever comfort had been taken in their embrace now fled in favor of pure lust.
"Sam," she tried, trying hard to hold onto her senses.
But then fingers fisted against her stomach and rose up, taking her shirt with her, until knuckles brushed against the bare breasts, underneath her shirt.
"I wanted to be your first," Sam reminded her, and Brooke opened her eyes, unsure when they had actually shut.
Swallowing hard, Brooke tried to calm her rapidly beating heart, the blood pounding in her ears.
"You are," she whispered, wet thumb leaving a small mark as she cupped Sam's chin. "You're my first love-"
"But not your first," Sam managed, in this dark, bitter tone.
Brooke swallowed, and tried to shake her head.
"It's just so stupid. I didn't even know how much I wanted it until I saw you with her." The tears were back, in Sam's eyes, in her voice.
"Sam," she whispered, and kept her hand against Sam's chin, forcing her to look at her.
Without another word, she raised her head up, meeting Sam's mouth in a hungry kiss. Tongue plunging into her own immediately, Sam whimpered against her, desperately furious, almost frightened.
Fingers lost their seductive technique when they slid upwards without preamble, covering her breast with an almost possessive touch.
Arching upwards, Brooke could only hold on under Sam's assault, as her step-sister, her love, kissed her again and again, tasting her lips like she was starving. Her tongue swiped against her teeth, her tongue, the roof of her mouth, and it was clumsy in it's desperation, and it was different, and still, it was Sam, and so it was beautiful.
Her arms flailed, and when their lips broke for air, Brooke moaned, head falling back as Sam's mouth tore from hers to lock to her throat, breathing hard against her throat when the hand that had been tormenting her breast changed direction, sliding down, so fast-
And then Sam was there, slipping into already impossibly wet folds.
She cried out, in shock and in pleasure, and she felt Sam shudder against her, as Brooke's arms went around her, clawing at her back.
"Oh God, Sam."
"Brooke," she heard, a tortured sound, and then she was inside her.
The feeling was impossible to describe, and she needed it desperately. She opened her eyes, saw Sam staring at her, inches away from her.
"Don't stop," she whispered, and then grabbed hold of Sam's head, pulling her down to meet her lips with her own, a wet, hot embrace.
Fingers dug deeper, and she felt the press of her Sam's palm, Sam's body, jerking against her, pushing her into a rhythm. The pressure of Sam's hand slid against her clit, and that, combined with Sam's hand, the knee Sam braced behind it, all went deep inside of her, deeper, further, with each thrust.
A hot mouth latched onto her neck, and the feel of it made her dizzy, flailing in Sam's arms, because it was SAM who was fucking her, and it was... it was...
"Fuck, Sam," she groaned, and Sam only moaned again in response, thrusting harder, faster, and it was exactly what Brooke wanted, what she needed. Shifting, Sam free hand had clamped underneath her, on her shoulder, and then it came even faster, and the pressure built, when the new position put more weight against her most sensitive spot.
She was sure she was speaking, begging, but she couldn't understand what she was saying, and when Sam suddenly thrust against her so hard and so deep, she was there.
The euphoric feeling overwhelmed her, and she jerked hard, nearly levitating off the bed, and suddenly she had sunk down against it, lost and found, weak and sweaty and still incoherent.
Eyes fluttering, she felt lips against her jaw and shifting blindly, she found them with her mouth, drawing Sam into her for a hungry kiss, as the fingers inside of her still made her shudder, and then tremble when Sam drew them out of her, sliding out of her pajama bottoms, leaving a wet trail against her abdomen.
Collapsing against her, Sam was hot, sweaty, and Brooke's heart raced, grabbing hold of her lover, fingers against her hair.
--
Sam had been inside of her.
Sam had fucked her.
Sam had touched her and made her come.
Sam was still in her bed, eyes shut, breathing rhythmically, still in her pajamas, sprawled against the other side of the bed, the hand that she had used to completely splinter her laid across her chest, and it smelled of her.
Brooke knew, if she thought about it methodically, that they had gotten ahead of themselves. She knew they should have talked, they should have understood what they were doing. There should have been some sort of conversation or at least an understanding before they lost control.
Sam had been possessive, desperate, controlling. She had taken over Brooke in a way no lover ever had, had seduced her and she hadn't had to take a shred of clothing off to do it.
In less than a week, Brooke had lost her lesbian virginity and then lost it all over again, because this, this she remembered. She would remember everything Sam had made her feel, and even now, her pants were shallow, her chest rose and fall, and she didn't know what to do.
God, she should naver have let herself think.
Sam had curled against her, and when Brooke had tentatively, honestly, broached the idea of reciprocation, Sam had told her that she had gotten what she wanted, and then shut up Brooke with a long, lingering kiss, the fingers that were still painted with Brooke's own wetness pressed against her cheek.
And now, Brooke was wide awake and Sam was asleep, and she was wondering why it had happened, why she had let it happen, because there was so much left to figure out, and God, her dad didn't even know-
"I have to tell him today," she breathed suddenly, staring straight up at the ceiling.
The body against her stirred, and Sam's eyes opened blearily to look at her. "Tell who?"
"My dad," she said, and began to move, rolling out of Sam's embrace to sit up, shifting uncomfortably when she realized how wet she still was.
Sam looked wanton and beautiful, splayed out on her bed, staring up at her, hair mussed and tangled.
"Oh, God," she breathed suddenly, eyes shutting, palm pressing against her face miserably. "This is not a relaxing Spring Break."
"Brooke," Sam said, looking a little more alert. "What are you going to tell your dad?"
"What do you think?" Sam stared at her, eyes a little wide. "That I'm gay."
"Oh." Sam blinked, and seemed to visibly relax, an almost embarrassed expression flashing across her face. "Oh, right."
A measured look was thrown in Sam's direction. "What did you think I was going to tell him?"
Sam shook her head mutely, and then fell back into the bed, staring up at the ceiling. "Nothing."
Brooke's eyes narrowed, and she opened her mouth, sighing raggedly. "Sam... I mean... what we... I don't even know-"
"Brooke, shut up," Sam breathed. "I don't know either," she admitted, when Brooke only stared at her.
In the silence, Brooke didn't know how to even begin the conversation that she knew had to happen.
The hand that had fucked her was now on Sam's stomach, and Brooke found herself fascinated by it. Shifting, she hesitantly reached for it, eyes always on Sam's guarded expression. When Sam didn't move, Brooke swallowed, trying to get moisture back into her dry throat when her fingers closed over Sam's hand.
The sight of it, her hands in Sam's, caused a sudden swell of bittersweet emotion. The tears were embarrassing, and so Brooke blinked them back, as she drew Sam's hand into her lap, and then brought it to her face, curled between her own fingers.
The pungent smell of her sex emanated from it, and Brooke breathed it in.
It had happened. It was real.
Gathering herself, she felt her insides tremble, and with a rush of air blown out, she looked at her lover.
Sam was incredibly still, mouth open, chest rising and falling.
She looked like a sexy goddess, all darkness and curves, and Brooke suddenly felt light headed, understanding finally, what it meant, to want to worship.
Fingers tangling together, Brooke pressed a gentle kiss to each knuckle, and then turned the palm over, to breath into Sam's palm, tongue swiping delicately against the other girls skin, heard a ragged sigh in response.
Brown eyes were nearly black, and Sam didn't move, watching her like she was some sort of predatory cat, waiting for her moment.
Shuddering, Brooke closed her eyes, and kissed her palm, mouth open, wetly painting the skin with her tongue, journey until she reached the underside of her wrist, at the sensitive pulse.
Sam's skin was salty, she tasted like Brooke, and Brooke felt an incredibly overwhelming thrill at just the idea. She kept going, ignoring Sam's audible moan when she reached the underside of Sam's elbow, laving the skin with her tongue, breathing hot air onto it and then blowing against it.
Letting go to Sam's hand, Brooke crawled forward, over Sam's body, until she had one hand on either side of Sam's head. Without a word, she nudged Sam's knees apart with her thigh, and then settled between them, carefully lowering herself onto her lover.
Staring down at her, Brooke's bright eyes searched carefully, for every imperfection, and then began to press a soft kiss against the freckle she found on her cheek. Hands came up to her waist, and when Brooke skimmed Sam's skin to press a kiss against the other cheek, she heard a gasp and felt a rush of wetness when Sam arched against her.
She trembled, eyes fluttering shut, and she forced them open again, to pull back, and look into dark obsidian eyes.
"I love you," she whispered, because she needed to say it, and then Sam was kissing her, pulling her down to suck on already swollen lips.
It was her fingers pulling at Sam's shirt, she realized, when she felt Sam's torso lift against the bed, and the thin fabric that was Sam's shirt slide briefly between them before her hands fell against naked flesh.
--
She was naked, when she awoke with Sam plastered against her, to her alarm clock buzzing at 8:00AM in the morning, after she had slept for what she gathered was a total of an hour.
The sound of a baby crying was also prevalent, and Brooke, exhausted and still tingling from the nights activities, shifted on the bare mattress, sheets long since flung to the side.
It left her feeling oddly vulnerable, exposed, as the cover of darkness was replaced with the always dependable sunlight.
Sam, also naked, had buried her face into her neck, and at the noise, only tightened her grip.
"Who the hell sets their alarm clock on Spring Break?" she mumbled, shivering, one hand flailing for Brooke's non-existent blankets.
Disentangling herself, Brooke rubbed at the goose bumps, swinging her legs onto the carpeted floor, and bending for the blankets.
"I need to feed the fish," she explained flatly, and shut the buzzing off with a touch.
"Seriously?"
Brooke only shook her head, pulling up the comforter and carefully drawing it over Sam.
She couldn't keep herself from looking as she did it, and for some reason, felt awkward about it.
She didn't know why it was weird, after the night they had had. She had explored Sam, every part of her, and even that wasn't enough. Sam was intoxicating, and Brooke was sure there was quite no other feeling than the feel of Sam coming around her, her fingers inside her, her mouth on Sam's sex.
But God... it was so much. And she had no idea if...
Blinking, Brooke let out a ragged sigh and stood, grabbing hold of her pajama bottoms and stepping into them.
"You know, Brooke..." Looking back, Brooke discovered a sexy woman with mussed hair, on her stomach, looking up at her with doe eyes. "The fish can survive a couple hours without food."
God, she was in trouble.
Smiling faintly, Brooke pulled on her shirt, ignoring the slightly disappointed smile on the woman on the bed, grabbing the little bottle of fish flakes. "I'm not taking any chances." Staring at Lil' Bleu Too, Brooke felt her heartbeat quicken, and shut her eyes when hands slid around her waist, and lips fluttered against her ear.
"Sorry," she heard, breathed into her ear, and her shoulders slumped and her head fell back, Sam's cheek sliding against hers. "Seriously, just come back to bed."
"I can't." Her voice was ragged, tired. "Jane's right outside, Sam. She's going to check in on us eventually."
The world had to be let back in, and Brooke hated that she had to be the one to do it.
Stiffening, Sam's mouth skimming against her cheek was merely an afterthought.
"You should get dressed," Brooke finished quietly.
The arms around her dropped, and Brooke licked her lips, a hard knot in her stomach when she looked back to the incredible temptation of Sam with nothing but a blanket covering her curves.
"You really do know how to spoil a mood, Brooke," Sam said dryly, and Brooke's eyes rolled to the ceiling, suddenly irritated.
"Right, and if Jane came in here while we were both naked and reeking of sex, you'd blame me for that," she snapped. "Don't start with me, Sam."
Pushing past her, she went into the bathroom, ignoring the other girl when she followed her in, hopping into her pajama bottoms, nearly tripping as she tried to pull on her shirt at the same time.
"God, you can be such an asshole, Brooke!"
Not wanting to look at herself in the mirror, or at Sam as she went by her to her room, Brooke turned the faucet on, flushing her face with cold water.
So apparently she and Sam were really good at two things: fucking and fighting.
"That's great," she breathed, and then opened her eyes, to look at her dripping expression in the foggy mirror.
What she saw nearly made her choke.
"Oh, God," she breathed, and clamped her hand on her throat. "SAM!"
The glaring purplish bruises marring her creamy white throat were revolting.
"SAM!" she screeched again. "Get your hoover mouth in here!"
"What?!" Sam said, popping up in the doorway. "What's wrong with you?"
Eyes wide, Brooke began to very quickly resort to panic. "THIS?!" she snapped, jabbing at her throat. "THIS is what's WRONG WITH ME, SAM!"
Sam blinked, and then stared, and then her hands went to her mouth. "Oh, holy shit!"
"Yeah!" Brooke said, nearly hyperventilating. "HOLY SHIT."
"Okay, okay," Coming forward, Sam looked terribly apologetic. "It's not that bad!"
"Not that bad?" Brooke breathed, and then whirled to the mirror, staring at the one, two - no three hickeys that glared at her, all visibly painted on her throat. "It looks like I was beaten with a vacuum cleaner!"
"Okay, relax," Sam said, hands on her shoulder. "Everyone's had hickeys before - maybe Mom and Mike won't even notice-"
"Sam!" Brooke wheezed, nearly crashing into the mirror in an attempt to get closer. "I have NEVER ... the last time I came home with a hickey- We're not twelve anymore, Sam!"
"You had hickeys when you were twelve?"
"FOCUS!"
"Fine, fine!" Sam said, hands thrown up in mock surrender. "Okay, listen. We have several options. Er... we can use the spoon, right?"
"Right. I have a fridge and a spoon in my bedroom," Brooke snarled, and then stared again at her self in the mirror.
"-You can wear a turtleneck."
"It's ninety degrees outside."
"What about an eraser-"
"These are golfball size hickeys, Sam!" Brooke shoved her aside and jerked open her drawer. "God, dammit, Sam! If Dad and Jane sees these-"
"So they'll think you hooked up!"
"I did hook up, remember?" Brooke shot her lover a withering stare. "With you. Who I was with. All night."
"They don't know that."
"Holy shit," she breathed, and located the cover up. "Oh, thank God-"
"Okay, give it to me," Sam said, snatching it from her hands. "Shut up," she ordered, when Brooke began to reach for it. "Let me do it-"
"You've done enough, don't you think?"
"God, you're sooo clever," Sam breathed, and grabbed hold of Brooke's chin. "Hold still."
"I could always say I hopped the fence and hooked up with Harrison."
Sam's stare was murderous. "Don't even joke about that."
Grabbing hold of a sponge, Sam began to meticulously spread the make up on Brooke's throat.
"Damn," she breathed, and when Brooke glanced at her, set her straight again with a hand on her chin. "I said not to move."
"What?" Brooke asked, as Sam pushed her knees apart and came between them, an effort to get better access to her neck. Despite the situation, Brooke found herself sighing raggedly.
"I just um... really went to town there," Sam said, clearly embarrassed. "I don't even remember doing that."
"Uhuh," Brooke snorted, determined to hold onto her irritation. "You're apparently a neck girl."
"Then judging by last night, you're definitely a breast girl," Sam snapped back, and Brooke blinked, a flush of heat flushing her face. "Well, that's helps," Sam said, obviously noticing.
Fingers fidgeting, Brooke finally settled for placing them on Sam's waist. "It's not entirely your fault," she admitted, feeling awkward. "I wasn't exactly complaining."
Fingertips faltered, and Sam stepped back, eyes shifting to hers and looking away. "Me neither," Sam muttered, and grabbed another sponge.
The lump in her throat was unbearable, and Brooke suddenly moaned in frustration, and grabbed hold of Sam's wrist, pulling her back to her.
Sam met her halfway, their lips melting together, hungrily searching out each other's tongues to enthusiastically mate again. Sam was shorter than most of Brooke's lovers, and it gave her an interesting sense of dominance, allowing her to tilt Sam's head back, plunder those lush lips with a measure of power and control. That feeling was lost when Sam pushed back, pressing her against the counter and breaking free of their heated embrace to bury her face into her neck.
The reaction caused them both to freeze.
"God-DAMMIT," Sam muttered, and suddenly Brooke began to laugh, arms coming around her lover to squeeze her, because at the moment, there was nothing else she could do. "It's not funny, Brooke!"
That of course, only made Brooke laugh harder, and that itself only made Sam more annoyed.
"I have to reapply all the make up!" Brooke nearly choked. "Dammit, Brooke!"
Brooke shut her up with a kiss, and when the felt the mouth against her own pull into a smile, she broke away, wheezing, shoulders shaking.
"I hate you," Sam muttered, but she was smiling, and for once, it didn't hurt to hear it.
--
end chapter
By Misty Flores
Teaser: It was the sharp realization, sitting at that dinner table, as soon as Harrison had chosen her and Sam's eyes welled up with tears, that for all her protestations of sisterly love to the world about Sam, she was incredibly, hopelessly, desperately, IN love with her. There was enough difference in that statement to completely destroy any sense of stability she had.
Series: Popular, Sam/Brooke, Brooke/other, Sam/other
Spoilers: Post SII
CHAPTERS
Prologue | Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V| Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII
--
PART NINE - Lay Down a List of What Is Wrong
If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me
And just forget the world?
-- Chasing Cars
Her relationship with Sam had never been physical.
It wasn't even because she and Sam weren't touchy people. Nicole had always been physically affectionate, an arm thrown around her, linking her hand through her elbow as they made their way down the hallways. She had seen Lily and Carmen and once in a blue moon, Harrison, cuddle up to Sam.
It could have been hate or the attraction, or the awkwardness, but even after they became friends, Sam had always kept her literally, arm's length.
She remembered an awkward hug, during that first year, because it was Christmas and Sam had been in a generous mood. Besides a handshake, that first year, the limitation of affection between the two of them had been a brawl that had included the entire cafeteria.
It was funny how, even now, she remembered those moments so clearly: the strength in Sam's handshake when they decided to compromise, the rise and fall of Sam's chest when they hugged tenuously, the smell of the apple blossom scented she had used and the ridiculous berries she had stuck in her hair in a misguided attempt at festivity.
Two years later, Sam had come willingly into her bed, had lain against her in a physical need to be beside her. Brown hair spilled over her outstretched arm and the feel of Sam's cheek rested against it. Across her chest was Sam's slender palm, spread out against the abdomen, fingers reaching just to the point where her shirt rode up and a sliver of belly was revealed. When Sam's fingers moved, she tickled the air, a sensitive shot of feeling that made her catch her breath.
She managed a muted smile, threading fingers through Sam's brunette hair, feeling the silky slide of the strands against her fingers. Maybe this was why they wouldn't touch - it didn't feel like this when Nicole hugged her.
"What's so funny?"
Caught, Brooke let out a sigh, raising her head slightly to glance at the girl in her arms. Head shifting so that her chin now rested on her shoulder, Brooke was treated to a beautiful, if not a little suspicious, smile.
"I was just thinking," Brooke told her, and then because she could, reached over, tracing her fingertip down the line of Sam's face, from her earlobe to her jaw.
They hadn't said much of anything since Sam's confession. There had been an overwhelming desire to keep silent, to simply feel, and Brooke understood the temptation. Too many things went wrong when they talked.
And really, what could they talk about? What else could they say?
Everything, she answered herself. There was the bubble of this night but in the morning, there would be questions, lots of them, and then there would be school, and who was to say that Sam wanted to date her anyway?
"You're thinking again," Sam whispered, and tilted her head into Brooke's palm, savoring the touch. The sight caused a sudden spike of emotion, and she smiled sadly.
"It's kinda hard to shut my brain off," Brooke said softly. "I brood."
Expressive, pouty lips turned upside down, and they were lush and soft. Brooke's palm slid over, until her thumb pressed against the underside of Sam's mouth.
"You know we should talk about stuff..." Brooke managed, when dark eyes turned darker, and the lips underneath her touch grew still.
The fingers on her stomach inched lower, and Brooke gasped lightly, when the digits dug lightly under her shirt, until the flat of Sam's palm was now pressed against Brooke's sensitive skin, smoothing lightly.
Lips caught hold of her thumb, and a rush of arousal jerked down into her groin when she caught sight of Sam taking her finger into her mouth, enclosing her in moist wetness, sucking lightly.
"Oh, God, Sam," she whispered, like she was being tortured.
Dark eyes bored into her, impossibly deep, and whatever comfort had been taken in their embrace now fled in favor of pure lust.
"Sam," she tried, trying hard to hold onto her senses.
But then fingers fisted against her stomach and rose up, taking her shirt with her, until knuckles brushed against the bare breasts, underneath her shirt.
"I wanted to be your first," Sam reminded her, and Brooke opened her eyes, unsure when they had actually shut.
Swallowing hard, Brooke tried to calm her rapidly beating heart, the blood pounding in her ears.
"You are," she whispered, wet thumb leaving a small mark as she cupped Sam's chin. "You're my first love-"
"But not your first," Sam managed, in this dark, bitter tone.
Brooke swallowed, and tried to shake her head.
"It's just so stupid. I didn't even know how much I wanted it until I saw you with her." The tears were back, in Sam's eyes, in her voice.
"Sam," she whispered, and kept her hand against Sam's chin, forcing her to look at her.
Without another word, she raised her head up, meeting Sam's mouth in a hungry kiss. Tongue plunging into her own immediately, Sam whimpered against her, desperately furious, almost frightened.
Fingers lost their seductive technique when they slid upwards without preamble, covering her breast with an almost possessive touch.
Arching upwards, Brooke could only hold on under Sam's assault, as her step-sister, her love, kissed her again and again, tasting her lips like she was starving. Her tongue swiped against her teeth, her tongue, the roof of her mouth, and it was clumsy in it's desperation, and it was different, and still, it was Sam, and so it was beautiful.
Her arms flailed, and when their lips broke for air, Brooke moaned, head falling back as Sam's mouth tore from hers to lock to her throat, breathing hard against her throat when the hand that had been tormenting her breast changed direction, sliding down, so fast-
And then Sam was there, slipping into already impossibly wet folds.
She cried out, in shock and in pleasure, and she felt Sam shudder against her, as Brooke's arms went around her, clawing at her back.
"Oh God, Sam."
"Brooke," she heard, a tortured sound, and then she was inside her.
The feeling was impossible to describe, and she needed it desperately. She opened her eyes, saw Sam staring at her, inches away from her.
"Don't stop," she whispered, and then grabbed hold of Sam's head, pulling her down to meet her lips with her own, a wet, hot embrace.
Fingers dug deeper, and she felt the press of her Sam's palm, Sam's body, jerking against her, pushing her into a rhythm. The pressure of Sam's hand slid against her clit, and that, combined with Sam's hand, the knee Sam braced behind it, all went deep inside of her, deeper, further, with each thrust.
A hot mouth latched onto her neck, and the feel of it made her dizzy, flailing in Sam's arms, because it was SAM who was fucking her, and it was... it was...
"Fuck, Sam," she groaned, and Sam only moaned again in response, thrusting harder, faster, and it was exactly what Brooke wanted, what she needed. Shifting, Sam free hand had clamped underneath her, on her shoulder, and then it came even faster, and the pressure built, when the new position put more weight against her most sensitive spot.
She was sure she was speaking, begging, but she couldn't understand what she was saying, and when Sam suddenly thrust against her so hard and so deep, she was there.
The euphoric feeling overwhelmed her, and she jerked hard, nearly levitating off the bed, and suddenly she had sunk down against it, lost and found, weak and sweaty and still incoherent.
Eyes fluttering, she felt lips against her jaw and shifting blindly, she found them with her mouth, drawing Sam into her for a hungry kiss, as the fingers inside of her still made her shudder, and then tremble when Sam drew them out of her, sliding out of her pajama bottoms, leaving a wet trail against her abdomen.
Collapsing against her, Sam was hot, sweaty, and Brooke's heart raced, grabbing hold of her lover, fingers against her hair.
--
Sam had been inside of her.
Sam had fucked her.
Sam had touched her and made her come.
Sam was still in her bed, eyes shut, breathing rhythmically, still in her pajamas, sprawled against the other side of the bed, the hand that she had used to completely splinter her laid across her chest, and it smelled of her.
Brooke knew, if she thought about it methodically, that they had gotten ahead of themselves. She knew they should have talked, they should have understood what they were doing. There should have been some sort of conversation or at least an understanding before they lost control.
Sam had been possessive, desperate, controlling. She had taken over Brooke in a way no lover ever had, had seduced her and she hadn't had to take a shred of clothing off to do it.
In less than a week, Brooke had lost her lesbian virginity and then lost it all over again, because this, this she remembered. She would remember everything Sam had made her feel, and even now, her pants were shallow, her chest rose and fall, and she didn't know what to do.
God, she should naver have let herself think.
Sam had curled against her, and when Brooke had tentatively, honestly, broached the idea of reciprocation, Sam had told her that she had gotten what she wanted, and then shut up Brooke with a long, lingering kiss, the fingers that were still painted with Brooke's own wetness pressed against her cheek.
And now, Brooke was wide awake and Sam was asleep, and she was wondering why it had happened, why she had let it happen, because there was so much left to figure out, and God, her dad didn't even know-
"I have to tell him today," she breathed suddenly, staring straight up at the ceiling.
The body against her stirred, and Sam's eyes opened blearily to look at her. "Tell who?"
"My dad," she said, and began to move, rolling out of Sam's embrace to sit up, shifting uncomfortably when she realized how wet she still was.
Sam looked wanton and beautiful, splayed out on her bed, staring up at her, hair mussed and tangled.
"Oh, God," she breathed suddenly, eyes shutting, palm pressing against her face miserably. "This is not a relaxing Spring Break."
"Brooke," Sam said, looking a little more alert. "What are you going to tell your dad?"
"What do you think?" Sam stared at her, eyes a little wide. "That I'm gay."
"Oh." Sam blinked, and seemed to visibly relax, an almost embarrassed expression flashing across her face. "Oh, right."
A measured look was thrown in Sam's direction. "What did you think I was going to tell him?"
Sam shook her head mutely, and then fell back into the bed, staring up at the ceiling. "Nothing."
Brooke's eyes narrowed, and she opened her mouth, sighing raggedly. "Sam... I mean... what we... I don't even know-"
"Brooke, shut up," Sam breathed. "I don't know either," she admitted, when Brooke only stared at her.
In the silence, Brooke didn't know how to even begin the conversation that she knew had to happen.
The hand that had fucked her was now on Sam's stomach, and Brooke found herself fascinated by it. Shifting, she hesitantly reached for it, eyes always on Sam's guarded expression. When Sam didn't move, Brooke swallowed, trying to get moisture back into her dry throat when her fingers closed over Sam's hand.
The sight of it, her hands in Sam's, caused a sudden swell of bittersweet emotion. The tears were embarrassing, and so Brooke blinked them back, as she drew Sam's hand into her lap, and then brought it to her face, curled between her own fingers.
The pungent smell of her sex emanated from it, and Brooke breathed it in.
It had happened. It was real.
Gathering herself, she felt her insides tremble, and with a rush of air blown out, she looked at her lover.
Sam was incredibly still, mouth open, chest rising and falling.
She looked like a sexy goddess, all darkness and curves, and Brooke suddenly felt light headed, understanding finally, what it meant, to want to worship.
Fingers tangling together, Brooke pressed a gentle kiss to each knuckle, and then turned the palm over, to breath into Sam's palm, tongue swiping delicately against the other girls skin, heard a ragged sigh in response.
Brown eyes were nearly black, and Sam didn't move, watching her like she was some sort of predatory cat, waiting for her moment.
Shuddering, Brooke closed her eyes, and kissed her palm, mouth open, wetly painting the skin with her tongue, journey until she reached the underside of her wrist, at the sensitive pulse.
Sam's skin was salty, she tasted like Brooke, and Brooke felt an incredibly overwhelming thrill at just the idea. She kept going, ignoring Sam's audible moan when she reached the underside of Sam's elbow, laving the skin with her tongue, breathing hot air onto it and then blowing against it.
Letting go to Sam's hand, Brooke crawled forward, over Sam's body, until she had one hand on either side of Sam's head. Without a word, she nudged Sam's knees apart with her thigh, and then settled between them, carefully lowering herself onto her lover.
Staring down at her, Brooke's bright eyes searched carefully, for every imperfection, and then began to press a soft kiss against the freckle she found on her cheek. Hands came up to her waist, and when Brooke skimmed Sam's skin to press a kiss against the other cheek, she heard a gasp and felt a rush of wetness when Sam arched against her.
She trembled, eyes fluttering shut, and she forced them open again, to pull back, and look into dark obsidian eyes.
"I love you," she whispered, because she needed to say it, and then Sam was kissing her, pulling her down to suck on already swollen lips.
It was her fingers pulling at Sam's shirt, she realized, when she felt Sam's torso lift against the bed, and the thin fabric that was Sam's shirt slide briefly between them before her hands fell against naked flesh.
--
She was naked, when she awoke with Sam plastered against her, to her alarm clock buzzing at 8:00AM in the morning, after she had slept for what she gathered was a total of an hour.
The sound of a baby crying was also prevalent, and Brooke, exhausted and still tingling from the nights activities, shifted on the bare mattress, sheets long since flung to the side.
It left her feeling oddly vulnerable, exposed, as the cover of darkness was replaced with the always dependable sunlight.
Sam, also naked, had buried her face into her neck, and at the noise, only tightened her grip.
"Who the hell sets their alarm clock on Spring Break?" she mumbled, shivering, one hand flailing for Brooke's non-existent blankets.
Disentangling herself, Brooke rubbed at the goose bumps, swinging her legs onto the carpeted floor, and bending for the blankets.
"I need to feed the fish," she explained flatly, and shut the buzzing off with a touch.
"Seriously?"
Brooke only shook her head, pulling up the comforter and carefully drawing it over Sam.
She couldn't keep herself from looking as she did it, and for some reason, felt awkward about it.
She didn't know why it was weird, after the night they had had. She had explored Sam, every part of her, and even that wasn't enough. Sam was intoxicating, and Brooke was sure there was quite no other feeling than the feel of Sam coming around her, her fingers inside her, her mouth on Sam's sex.
But God... it was so much. And she had no idea if...
Blinking, Brooke let out a ragged sigh and stood, grabbing hold of her pajama bottoms and stepping into them.
"You know, Brooke..." Looking back, Brooke discovered a sexy woman with mussed hair, on her stomach, looking up at her with doe eyes. "The fish can survive a couple hours without food."
God, she was in trouble.
Smiling faintly, Brooke pulled on her shirt, ignoring the slightly disappointed smile on the woman on the bed, grabbing the little bottle of fish flakes. "I'm not taking any chances." Staring at Lil' Bleu Too, Brooke felt her heartbeat quicken, and shut her eyes when hands slid around her waist, and lips fluttered against her ear.
"Sorry," she heard, breathed into her ear, and her shoulders slumped and her head fell back, Sam's cheek sliding against hers. "Seriously, just come back to bed."
"I can't." Her voice was ragged, tired. "Jane's right outside, Sam. She's going to check in on us eventually."
The world had to be let back in, and Brooke hated that she had to be the one to do it.
Stiffening, Sam's mouth skimming against her cheek was merely an afterthought.
"You should get dressed," Brooke finished quietly.
The arms around her dropped, and Brooke licked her lips, a hard knot in her stomach when she looked back to the incredible temptation of Sam with nothing but a blanket covering her curves.
"You really do know how to spoil a mood, Brooke," Sam said dryly, and Brooke's eyes rolled to the ceiling, suddenly irritated.
"Right, and if Jane came in here while we were both naked and reeking of sex, you'd blame me for that," she snapped. "Don't start with me, Sam."
Pushing past her, she went into the bathroom, ignoring the other girl when she followed her in, hopping into her pajama bottoms, nearly tripping as she tried to pull on her shirt at the same time.
"God, you can be such an asshole, Brooke!"
Not wanting to look at herself in the mirror, or at Sam as she went by her to her room, Brooke turned the faucet on, flushing her face with cold water.
So apparently she and Sam were really good at two things: fucking and fighting.
"That's great," she breathed, and then opened her eyes, to look at her dripping expression in the foggy mirror.
What she saw nearly made her choke.
"Oh, God," she breathed, and clamped her hand on her throat. "SAM!"
The glaring purplish bruises marring her creamy white throat were revolting.
"SAM!" she screeched again. "Get your hoover mouth in here!"
"What?!" Sam said, popping up in the doorway. "What's wrong with you?"
Eyes wide, Brooke began to very quickly resort to panic. "THIS?!" she snapped, jabbing at her throat. "THIS is what's WRONG WITH ME, SAM!"
Sam blinked, and then stared, and then her hands went to her mouth. "Oh, holy shit!"
"Yeah!" Brooke said, nearly hyperventilating. "HOLY SHIT."
"Okay, okay," Coming forward, Sam looked terribly apologetic. "It's not that bad!"
"Not that bad?" Brooke breathed, and then whirled to the mirror, staring at the one, two - no three hickeys that glared at her, all visibly painted on her throat. "It looks like I was beaten with a vacuum cleaner!"
"Okay, relax," Sam said, hands on her shoulder. "Everyone's had hickeys before - maybe Mom and Mike won't even notice-"
"Sam!" Brooke wheezed, nearly crashing into the mirror in an attempt to get closer. "I have NEVER ... the last time I came home with a hickey- We're not twelve anymore, Sam!"
"You had hickeys when you were twelve?"
"FOCUS!"
"Fine, fine!" Sam said, hands thrown up in mock surrender. "Okay, listen. We have several options. Er... we can use the spoon, right?"
"Right. I have a fridge and a spoon in my bedroom," Brooke snarled, and then stared again at her self in the mirror.
"-You can wear a turtleneck."
"It's ninety degrees outside."
"What about an eraser-"
"These are golfball size hickeys, Sam!" Brooke shoved her aside and jerked open her drawer. "God, dammit, Sam! If Dad and Jane sees these-"
"So they'll think you hooked up!"
"I did hook up, remember?" Brooke shot her lover a withering stare. "With you. Who I was with. All night."
"They don't know that."
"Holy shit," she breathed, and located the cover up. "Oh, thank God-"
"Okay, give it to me," Sam said, snatching it from her hands. "Shut up," she ordered, when Brooke began to reach for it. "Let me do it-"
"You've done enough, don't you think?"
"God, you're sooo clever," Sam breathed, and grabbed hold of Brooke's chin. "Hold still."
"I could always say I hopped the fence and hooked up with Harrison."
Sam's stare was murderous. "Don't even joke about that."
Grabbing hold of a sponge, Sam began to meticulously spread the make up on Brooke's throat.
"Damn," she breathed, and when Brooke glanced at her, set her straight again with a hand on her chin. "I said not to move."
"What?" Brooke asked, as Sam pushed her knees apart and came between them, an effort to get better access to her neck. Despite the situation, Brooke found herself sighing raggedly.
"I just um... really went to town there," Sam said, clearly embarrassed. "I don't even remember doing that."
"Uhuh," Brooke snorted, determined to hold onto her irritation. "You're apparently a neck girl."
"Then judging by last night, you're definitely a breast girl," Sam snapped back, and Brooke blinked, a flush of heat flushing her face. "Well, that's helps," Sam said, obviously noticing.
Fingers fidgeting, Brooke finally settled for placing them on Sam's waist. "It's not entirely your fault," she admitted, feeling awkward. "I wasn't exactly complaining."
Fingertips faltered, and Sam stepped back, eyes shifting to hers and looking away. "Me neither," Sam muttered, and grabbed another sponge.
The lump in her throat was unbearable, and Brooke suddenly moaned in frustration, and grabbed hold of Sam's wrist, pulling her back to her.
Sam met her halfway, their lips melting together, hungrily searching out each other's tongues to enthusiastically mate again. Sam was shorter than most of Brooke's lovers, and it gave her an interesting sense of dominance, allowing her to tilt Sam's head back, plunder those lush lips with a measure of power and control. That feeling was lost when Sam pushed back, pressing her against the counter and breaking free of their heated embrace to bury her face into her neck.
The reaction caused them both to freeze.
"God-DAMMIT," Sam muttered, and suddenly Brooke began to laugh, arms coming around her lover to squeeze her, because at the moment, there was nothing else she could do. "It's not funny, Brooke!"
That of course, only made Brooke laugh harder, and that itself only made Sam more annoyed.
"I have to reapply all the make up!" Brooke nearly choked. "Dammit, Brooke!"
Brooke shut her up with a kiss, and when the felt the mouth against her own pull into a smile, she broke away, wheezing, shoulders shaking.
"I hate you," Sam muttered, but she was smiling, and for once, it didn't hurt to hear it.
--
end chapter