You Make Me Feel... Like Me

You Make Me Feel Like Me - One Shot

Sam's POV:

The heat from where the ax sliced through my skin burns a hot trail across my back as Deena smooth's the bandage over the wound.  I lied to her when I said that it was fine.  

Well, not so much lied, but but the physical pain I felt just didn't seem important compared to the emotional pain I was feeling from how much my heart hurt from being near her again.  She finishes smoothing down the tape, and I shuffle myself around the stool to face her.  She is barely standing between my legs, but my stomach erupts into nervous ripples as my knees whisper against her thighs in featherlight touches, and her bare skin is just inches away from me.

"This is my fault," I begin, my lips twisting in uncertainty.  "I'm sorry.  When I went to Sunnyvale, I ran away from you.  Because you were like... this reminder.  I was scared of this.  Of us... of me.  And like, tonight's the first time I've felt like myself in... months.  It's been so long.  I forgot what that... what that felt like."

She says nothing as I make this confession.  I can see the pain behind her eyes that I caused and it causes my heart to clench. She thought that I didn't want her.  She thought that I didn't love her.  But nothing... NOTHING ... could be further from the truth.  I tentatively reach out and lace my index fingers through the belt loops of her jeans and pull her just slightly towards me.  I could have easily just put my hands on her hips, but this seemed more intimate.  And it was a reminder of what I used to do when I wanted her near me.  It was my hint that I wanted her closer.  Her lips curl into that knowing smile that I have missed so much and I want to kiss her.  But I wait for her to make the first move.

Then I'm not exactly sure who moves first.  Everything around me spins as her lips meet mine or mine meet hers.  I'm not sure.  I can't tell who started it, but I know that I will not be the one to end it.  I stand up off the stool, and push her until her back hits the wall a little rougher than I intended.  But she doesn't mind at all.  Our lips are too busy, our mouths working tirelessly as our tongues dance and slide together.  And our hands...  God I missed her hands.  I cup her face feeling desperate to pull her closer.  This was never something that was hard for us.  The physical side of our relationship always came so easy, so natural.  

There's was always desperation.

But never any hesitation.

Not even the first time.

My hands move down across her chest and I just let them do wherever they want, touching the bare skin of her stomach, her chest, until they finally settle around the thin material that covers the soft flesh of her perfect breasts.  They fit so comfortably in my hands as I touch and squeeze them, and for a minute my mind drifts to that first night that now seemed so long ago.  

Her dad was working overnights, again, and Josh was sleeping over a friend's house.  I had slept over so many times before, and while things had often gotten heated we always stopped before it got too far.  

There was never a conversation about it.  

Somehow we just both knew.  

But that night... that night had been different.  

Touching over clothes had drifted into stroking under clothes and against bare skin.  Desperate and twisted kisses that had been broken and stopped when they became too much or stirred up too many hormones seemed to go on forever, neither of us wanting them to end.  Hands and fingers that had tentatively traced the outline of waistbands and buttons and zippers suddenly became braver, sliding under and into those barriers until they slid against soft, wet skin. And then mouths and tongues touched and explored the same wet, slick skin until desperation exploded into hot white flashes and waves of heat and we were both flushed and breathless and satisfied.

The images of that night cause a desperate tingling surge between my legs that needs to be taken care of.  But I need to take care of her first.  

I needed to show her how much I've missed her.  

How much I've needed her.  

How much I've wanted her.  

How much I love her

I move my hands down from her breasts, over her stomach, and it only takes a second for me to unzip her jeans and jam my hand inside them.  I can feel how hot and wet she is through her panties and I gasp as I find out how hot and wet she is inside them  So slick and hard in just the right spot, I put my finger over the center of her need and I grin as it only takes mere minutes for me to make her come undone.  It's been so long.  I missed seeing and feeling her like this.  

My mouth works slowly against hers as I pull my hand from her pants, and she concentrates on catching her breath between long, deep kisses.

I take my time, thinking her recovery might take a little while.  It always has in the past.  But I'm wrong.  So very wrong.  

Her mouth begins to move quicker against mine.  Harder.  Her tongue digs inside my mouth, swirling.  She sucks on my bottom lip then soothes it gently with her tongue before spinning me around until my back slams against the wall.  I should feel pain from my wound, but I feel nothing except for her and the desperate need for her between my thighs.

As if reading my mind, her hands are suddenly at my waist band and in seconds she is pulling my jeans open and sliding her hand inside.  Her fingers touch me, and I gasp hard against her lips.  I'm desperate for her as she slides over my most sensitive flesh, and quickly dips inside me her thumb bumping against the bundle of nerves that need the most attention.  And within minutes, my whole body flushes and the heat washes over my entire body.

And now we should both be satisfied.

But we're not.

Neither of us stops kissing. 

Neither of us stops touching.

Our breathing is hard and desperate as our hands continue to move.  I feel her hands move to the middle of my back, her skilled fingers beginning to expertly unclasp my bra.  And I know where this is headed.  My body knows what is going to happen next.  And I shiver thinking about her mouth on me and my mouth on her.  

I have missed her so much.

I love her so much.

Suddenly, there's a jingle as we hear a door open and it's the only thing that could stop us.

"Did you heart that?" Deena asks breathlessly.

"Yeah. As much as I don't want to stop," I say as I put my forehead against hers, "we should probably finish getting dressed."

"You're right.  We can finish this later.  I promise."

"To be honest, that's probably the best motivation not to die I've ever heard. And that's why this has to work."

I kiss her lips one more time, lingering longer than I should, before pulling away giving her several smaller ones.

"Come on.  Let's go blow up some dead killer bitches."