Sam had been a damn idiot. Now that it was finally over, he couldn't understand why he'd hesitated in the first place.
His lack of communication with Christine looked laughable from the other side. Sex was natural, sex was wonderful, and he couldn't believe it had taken him this long to figure that out.
Though, as he watched Skye sleeping in his arms, he had to admit that maybe it was better this way.
He was even more exhausted if possible, his mind on the brink of a violent shut down, but his body strangely buzzed with an energy hard to contain. He needed to blow off more steam, do it again. And again until he'd be so exhausted, he'd black out.
But, even if electricity seemed to be coursing through his veins, he didn't have the heart to wake her up. She was burnt out and had already put up with him enough times. She needed sleep.
So did he, but his eyes wouldn't close. Every time he tried, all he could see was her body under his and it only railed him up more.
He secured the covers around Skye's naked body, pulled his jeans on and stepped into the living room, shutting the door silently behind him.
Then he began pacing, trying to burn off the excess energy and the desire to start all over again, while his mind replayed what had happened. Skye was amazing, soft and hot and so good at letting him know exactly what she wanted. He'd been more than happy to oblige, her pleasure increasing his tenthfold. For once, he had to agree with Kyle over his other brothers. The first time wasn't awkward or confusing. It was amazing.
But they did have a point that it got better each time. So good in fact, that it was all he could think about. Not that his brain had much capacity left. If he could only settle down and sleep. But all his body wanted to do was practice more.
"You're not waking Skye up," he mumbled to himself. "She's had enough for one day. Not her fault you're obsessed." Was he addicted? Could he be addicted?
His dumb thoughts were blissfuly interrupted by a knock on the door. Without giving it a moment's thought, he walked over and opened it. The air around him seemed to freeze and goosebumps erupted over his skin.
Christine stood in the doorway, wearing a brown trench coat and black, shiny high heel boots. She bore no resemblance to the mess he'd seen last time. Her skin glowed, her eyes sparkled, and her lips and cheeks were rosy. Her hair once again resembled a shiny chocolate waterfall.
"Hi, Sam," she purred, letting herself in and pushing the door closed with her heel. "Merry Christmas."
He couldn't compute this. His mind couldn't focus on what was happening and his body was a jittering mess. He probably looked like he was in withdrawl. Which wasn't too far from the truth.
"Did I interrupt something?" she asked shrewdly, looking him up and down. "Or were you waiting for me?"
He hadn't even buttoned his jeans, his hair was rumpled, he had no shirt on, and his feet were bare. Not exactly the best outfit or state of mind to face his ex.
"It's Christmas?" was all he could ask.
"Well, Christmas Eve, but I think you've been good enough to open your present ahead of time." She winked.
Her words were not registering as he stared at her. Yes, he could see her, he was aware this was real, but somehow, it wasn't. There was something devious in her wink, something that spoke of a danger he should have been able to forsee. He couldn't focus.
"Would you like to unwrap me?"
Her voice sounded funny, distorted. He didn't bother answering, so she took matters into her own hands and unbuttoned her coat. With a proud smile, she shrugged it over her shoulders. She only wore a bra and see-through panties set underneath, black lace embroidered with ruby-red roses.
The energy buzzing within Sam reactivated at once, only this time it was joined by a wave of pure rage that thrust his mind even further into inactivity.
"Like what you see?" She let the coat drop to the floor and walked towards him, swaying her hips.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he spat out. "Get out." He really needed her to get out before he did something stupid.
"You don't mean that." She reached him, took his hands and placed them on her butt. It was cold. "I can see the desire in your eyes, Sam. You want me. You want this."
No, what he wanted was to sober up, what he wanted was for his body to obey, to do something more than just stand there. But he did want it. Not necessarily with her, just the act in itself.
Christine took advantage of his inability to produce simple sentences and pushed him on the couch. Before he could make a move, she settled in his lap, straddling him, pressing her keens against his hips.
"You can do whatever you want with me," she whispered in his ear.
The heat of her breath put his body in motion and he twisted, laying her down on the couch and catching her underneath him.
"There you go," she said. "There's the Sam I love."
Love. She'd cheated on him, refused to talk to him, sent him into a self-destructive spiral. What the fuck did love have to do with any of that?
No, he couldn't lose it, he needed to focus. But it was so hard to control himself when all his negative feelings towards her were coming out in dangerous waves. She was trying to manipulate him, and he was too exhausted to react properly, to figure out what to do except the obvious. He'd told her to get out and she refused. There was only one thing he wanted to do.
His fingers tightened around her neck and he leaned over her. "Does it look like I want you here?"
There was a flash of fear in her eyes before she smiled again. "You might say no, but your body is screaming yes. I can feel it. You're pressed against me after all."
His body. His stupid body that had gotten a taste of sex and now wanted more. It was stronger than his mind, mixing the sexual desire with his need to hurt her, make her pay for everything.
"I thought you'd learned something from our last chat," he said, his voice low and threatening.
"I did. I learned I can't half-ass it. You deserve my entire effort and attention and that's exactly what I'm giving you."
"No. You're throwing yourself at me, thinking sex would fix something."
"Maybe it will. We won't know unless we try." Her amber eyes flashed with both desire and malice. "Think about it. I'm giving myself to you. If you don't want to be together anymore, what harm will this do you? Why not just give me what I want? Give yourself what I'm sure you want." With fluid movements, she brought her hands between them and unclasped her bra. It fell to the floor with a pathetic thud.
Sam forced his eyes to stay on her face. It wasn't like he hadn't seen her naked before, but it became so much harder to focus, to control himself and not either snap her neck or give her what she was asking for.
"And you know what's so cool about these panties?" she purred. "They can be taken down easily." And she pulled on a bow on their sides, leaving herself completely exposed. "I know you want me, Sam. You always had. And this is your chance to see what it's like."
She kept talking, digging herself a deeper hole. He was aware of that. He was also aware that, with the fluidity of a contortionist, she'd dug her heels into the belt loops of his jeans and was pushing them down his hips.
"Stop fighting it," she teased.
If only she knew he was actually fighting the need to tighten his hold on her neck. The hatred was dangerous and it scared him because he'd thought he'd gotten over it. But the idea to punish her in some way was too appealing.
"Are you sure you want this?" he asked.
"More than anything in the world." She wrapped her legs around him, trying to pull him closer to her.
Yes, he could do that. Give her this one thing she apparently wanted more than anything in the world, then take it away, dangle it before her and watch her suffer. And at the moment, it felt like the perfect idea. It was either that or snapping her neck.
No. Don't do this. You're falling into her trap.
"Even if it's going to be just an irrelevant screw on the couch?"
She grinned at him, all-knowing and infuriating. "Sam, I know you. You're sensitive and sweet. This won't be irrelevant. It will rock your world." She ran her hands down his stomach and then back up to his face. "Kiss me. I'll guide you through it and I promise it will be fun."
Her indulgent tone, the patronizing way she talked to him, broke the last bit of sanity he had left. It wasn't her trap. It was his.
He pushed down on her and was satisfied to see her eyes widening in shock, the patheticness in them disappearing.
He covered her completely, laying enough weight on her for it to be painful and whispered in her ear, "I won't kiss you. And I don't need your damn guidance."
Because he knew what to do, how to touch her, how to make her moan, dig her nails into her back, roll her eyes into her head, bite his shoulder. He was perfectly able to make her come undone around him, scream his name. He covered her mouth to make sure she didn't make noise and gave her what she claimed she wanted until she fell limp against him.
Once he was done, exhaustion consumed him and he pulled his jeans on, buttoning them safely this time, and slid to the floor, resting his back against the couch. He didn't want to touch her a second more than strictly necessary.
She didn't seem to mind, panting and shivering behind him. He just felt numb, a splitting headache engulfing his thoughts.
"Oh, my God, Sam," Christine breathed, her words barely discernible between the pants. "That was fucking amazing." She took in another few greedy breaths. "How'd you know to work the angles like that? I swear, you're some sort of sex prodigy. For your first time that was--"
"It wasn't my first time," he cut her off, his voice blank and tired, much like he felt. "Or my second, or my third." It was his fourth, but he'd much rather end it dramatically and let her think the worst.
Yes, that evil disgusting part of him was still there, as was his desire to mess with her. It battled the rising panic inside him and he let it win. He couldn't face the consequences of what he'd done, not yet, not when his head was throbbing.
"What?" There was genuine fear in Christine's voice this time.
"That's right. You don't know me anymore, Christine. You have no idea who I am. And I am very capable of doing what I just did without it being more than a purely physical act." He was going to say something stupid, he could feel it, so it was time to quit while he was ahead. "Which I warned you about. Now get out."
She said nothing, just blinked at him stupidly, tears in her eyes. Tears that stirred the nastiness inside him in all the wrong ways.
He couldn't do this, couldn't be here with her. So he stood. She quickly grabbed the comforter from the back of the couch and covered herself, as if her nakedness was suddenly a problem. It had always been, but she finally understood.
"I don't love you, I don't want you back," he pressed on, grabbing a hoodie she'd revealed on the back of the couch and pulling it over his head. "And now that I gave you what you wanted, maybe you'll finally leave me alone. Because that's never going to happen again."
She stared some more, with big, wide eyes, not moving, not getting out of his life. He opened his mouth, but closed it because some part of him wanted to mention Skye in the other room and that would be just wrong for everyone involved. He needed to get out and cool off. And it might be the way to get her out of the house quickly as well.
"What are you doing?" she finally asked, her voice trembling.
Sam walked to the door and pulled his boots and jacket on. "Leaving. I have better things to do. I trust you'll see yourself out."
She didn't answer and he left, pulling his phone out as he hurried down the stairs. The further he walked away from her, the hatred and evil inside him dimmed until it was buried under the mountain of disgust and regret he felt.
On some level, he'd done what needed to be done to get rid of her, and that he could live with. The timing, however, had sucked balls big time. He had a lot of damage control to do and too little brain cells to pull it off properly. But this was it, either do or die.
He'd done this to himself and he was going to face the consequences.
♠️
A low beep pulled Skye out of her blissful sleep, but she kept her eyes closed and enjoyed the warmth and softness of the covers against her skin. It felt wonderful. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd slept so well or dreamt so sweet. Because in her dream, she and Sam were floating away on a cloud, and he was completely enamored with her.
There was a low click and someone whispered, "What the actual fuck?"
Her eyes shot open, but she didn't move, her mind making attempts to pinpoint everything. She was at Sam's place, in his bed, that much she was sure of. She was also naked under his covers. It had been a woman's voice and it didn't take a rocket scientist to guess who was in the room with her now.
So with careful movements, holding the cover tightly against her, Skye sat up. The room was bathed in the last rays of late dusk, falling over Christine and her shocked expression. She wore only a transparent lace ensemble of bra and barely-there panties and high heel boots, looking like a fashion model from heaven.
The perfect circumstances in which to meet Sam's ex.
"Hello, Christine," she said, putting as much dignity and confidence in her voice as possible.
Christine opened and closed her mouth like a suffocating fish, the astounded look on her face combined with just a touch of malice taking away from her otherwise ethereal beauty. That and the obvious tearstains on her rosy cheeks.
She suddenly narrowed her eyes. "You're the therapist," she finally spat out.
"Guilty as charged," Skye answered with a grin. Her mind was still a little groggy so she needed to keep the interaction short and as non-lethal as possible.
"And you're naked," Christine continued the series of obvious observations.
"Guilty again," Skye answered, though she actually wanted to point out that so was Christine. "Can I help you?"
The simple question was greeted with silence as Christine took in the room. Skye took advantage of her momentary distraction to grab Sam's t-shirt off the bed and pull it over her head. At least now she had some sort of protection, though it also highlighted the obvious problem that Sam had two naked women in his apartment and he wasn't there.
"I wanted to grab one of Sam's shirts," Christine finally said.
"I have no idea where his closet it." He hadn't exactly given her a tour of the apartment. They'd been otherwise engaged. A dull ache settled in the pit of her stomach, but it wasn't joined by regret, surprisingly. She'd wanted this and he'd given her exactly what she'd asked for. The fact that she wanted a lot more hadn't come up in conversation yet.
Christine didn't move, just continued to stare at Skye and her t-shirt as if she were jealous Skye actually got oversized clothes from her ex boyfriend. It maybe took her longer to do the math, but the more Christine glared, the more menacing she looked.
"You know, he made love to me just in the other room," she said, trying for nonchalance.
Skye winced. Yes, she'd suspected that much from the moment Christine had turned up naked, but Skye also knew Sam well enough to tell that Christine might be lying and that, even if he did do what she claimed, it wasn't as easy as that.
"Really? Made love to you, you say? Roses and candles and everything?" she asked with polite interest. "Because there's a whole lot of difference between making love and a revenge lay on the couch."
Christine cringed and actually took a tiny step back which clearly indicated that Skye had hit the nail on the head. It had been a revenge lay and she knew it. But it opened up a dangerous whirlpool of trouble.
Oh, Sam, what did you do?
The dull pain inside her grew, but it was more associated with Sam relapsing rather than betraying her. Because for some reason, she didn't feel like he had. Christine was an open wound and she'd come to rub salt in it in a moment when his defences were down completely.
Plus, Skye had screwed up by sleeping with him in the first place, so it was only fair for karma to bitchslap her.
Just to make sure her theory was correct, she picked up the phone from the night stand. Yup, as she suspected, Sam didn't have time to get any sleep before Christine barged in on him. It was amazing her head was so clear when she obviously hadn't slept much herself.
She also had a message from Sam, recieved five minutes ago, and even with Christine there, she opened it.
I'm so sorry, I totally fucked up. I know I shouldn't have, that I just jumped back a million steps, but I just couldn't control myself. I never meant to hurt you and it's you and only you I want to see again after all of this. I'll totally understand if you never want to see me again, but if you do, you'll know where to find me. I don't think I'm going anywhere from there.
It was long, it was panicky and it was rambling. Sam needed her. And Skye wasn't going to let disgruntled Christine stand in her way. After she delt with this crisis, she'd figure out what to do next.
"You need to leave," she said, putting her phone down. "I need to get dressed because I have somewhere else to be."
"With him?" Christine asked, narrowing her eyes in suspicion.
"That, my dear, is none of your concern."
♠️
Skye knew exactly where to find Sam. He was in the park, at the lookout point, his forearms folded over the banister, glancing over the skyline of Chicago. His car was parked nearby.
She walked to him wearily, the prospect of talking to him suddenly a lot scarier than it had been while she got dressed and hurried over.
"Skye?" he asked, not turning around.
"Yes," she said warily.
"I have flowers for you in the car," he said, still not looking at her.
Out of reflex, she threw a quick glance that way and noticed a colorful bundle in the backseat. But the idea of it made her angry. He didn't just think he could buy her off with flowers.
"No, thanks."
Her words finally made him turn to her. He looked somewhere between terrified and resigned, his hair messy and eyes hazy. The lack of sleep was showing as well, making him appear unfocused and sluggish.
"I meant it," he said, "I never wanted to hurt you. Sleeping with her never even crossed my mind. But when she showed up, when she wouldn't leave, when she kept patronizing me and acting like she knew what I wanted... I just snapped. All I wanted to do was hurt her, and at that moment it fell between screwing her and breaking her neck. I..." He took in a deep breath, his eyes filled with anguish. "I fucked up so badly."
Even if his words dug a hole in her, she moved her hand in a circular motion. "Let's rewind. So she showed up after I fell asleep, probably dressed in barely anything. And?"
Sam swallowed heavily. "She insisted it was what I wanted. I just... I was so tired and confused and sexed-up and... Wait, that's no excuse."
"We're not talking excuses, Sam. You don't have to justify yourself to me. We're breaking it down to see how bad it affected your healing."
He narrowed his eyes at her. "You're not my doctor anymore."
"Does it really matter right now?"
"I guess not." He took in a deep breath. "I just kind of... rage quit, I don't know. When I told her to get out and she wouldn't, I just sort of... All of the bad things I ever considered doing to her came to the forefront. I was seconds away from literally strangling her. It felt like it wasn't me, but it actually was the real me. A bit like when I feel intrusions from Tom, except this time I was taking over myself. God, I sound crazy."
He didn't. He sounded hurt and confused and exhausted.
"About how much effort do you put into keeping your nasty impulses at bay?" she asked, trying to keep it professional.
"In general or with Christine? Because, in general, not a lot. But with her... Last time we saw each other, when we said goodbye, it was all good. I caught her wrongfooted apparently and it was easy. This time it was a bit the other way around. Faced with the usual her, the one I was used to see, I... couldn't handle it. I just wanted to hurt her, to prove her wrong."
"And now how do you feel?"
He pondered on her question for about a minute which felt like an eternity. "Freed. And guilty. Because doing what I did to her is something I can live with. But hurting you..."
And here it came. Apparently, he hadn't relapsed. Just had a moment of weakness in which he'd wanted to hurt the person who hurt him in the first place. He'd chosen to give her what she wanted and then take it away. Common, sometimes effective. He felt free.
The two of them were nothing but an unforeseen complication.
"We're not exclusive, Sam," she said, though the words were tearing at her insides. "You don't have to explain yourself for sleeping with someone else."
He lowered his eyelids and his mouth twisted into the beginning of a snarl, as if he couldn't believe she was trying to bullshit him.
"No. What I did was fucked up beyond belief. Don't find excuses for me. It was terrible and I deserve you yelling at me or kicking me or not wanting to see me."
He was right, but she didn't want to not see him, not when Christine had just brought out the worst in him when his defenses were down. Maybe it was stupid, maybe it was weak, but the fact that she understood made it a lot harder to be upset with him. Hurt yes, angry no. Disappointed, again no.
"Plus," he said, "I want us to be exclusive."
Her eyes widened. "What?"
"I want us to not sleep with other people, to not see other people while this is going on. Skye, it kills me that I've hurt you, no matter how psychiatrically normal you might find it. It's not okay. I should've tried harder. I shouldn't have opened the door."
His words warmed her up and dimmed the pain, even if they didn't remove it completely. Despite her best efforts, her eyes filled with tears. Sam walked to the car and returned with a large bouquet of blood-red Christmas roses.
"Honestly, Skye. I never want to hurt you and I swear I'll never do anything like this ever again."
"You mean get so burned out and exhausted that you can't control your nasty impulses?"
"Yes, that. Or anything else that would bring tears to your eyes." He handed her the flowers. "I don't want to ever make you cry and I'm sorry it took something like this to drill it into my head properly."
This time, she took them, but also noticed the scratches on his hands. "What happened to your hands?"
"Oh." He let go of the flowers and clasped his hands behind his back. "I kinda picked those up from the park. Illegally. Got a bit scratched while taking the thorns out. But it was totally worth it. I didn't want them to hurt you. I've done that enough."
The gesture was incredibly sweet and she looked at them, a token of hard work and... And what?
"Sam, what does this mean?" she asked, raising her eyes to his.
"It means you're worth the scratches. It means I never want to hurt you. It also means that I don't want to have sex with anyone else but you."
"Christine was that bad, huh?" It was a cheap shot, but she couldn't help it.
Sam smirked. "I wouldn't call her bad, but she can't hold a candle to you."
Skye glanced at the roses again, pristine and perfect. And illegal. Kind of like their relationship. It was maybe that which had her deciding not to care about logic and go with her heart once again.
"Okay," she said, with a smile. "We can be exclusive."
And the world could just watch and burn around them for all she cared.
♠️♠️♠️
Of course I was going to destroy everything because Sam needed to do one last dumb. I guess he's lucky? Or crazy?
Maybe Skye is actually the crazy one. Or Christine. A lot of crazy people in this chapter. I had so much fun with it.
So, thoughts? I'm curious what you think about everything. About Sam, Christine and Skye.
Fun fact: in the original version inside, Sam actually put a sleeping Christine in bed with Skye and then leave because he wasn't enough of a dirtbag already 😂
I suck so much sometimes.
Vote and comment and look forward to more terrible decisions by your favorite characters!