Technically, Wes and Sam’s first date could be considered the night they spent in Sam’s childhood backyard, looking at stars and talking about why it was important to come home. Wes had been kind of drunk and Sam had been kind of lost and they had kissed underneath stars that were older and brighter than either of them could ever dream of being.

But that ended with Sam leaving for the Navy and Wes spending months thinking that the man didn’t care about him and Sam thinking that he’d ruined everything. So the couple decided that, though technically it could’ve counted, they weren’t going to let that be their first date.

So instead, they made their first date two weeks after they confessed to being in love with each other because between their hesitancy to tell Tom about their relationship and the fact that Sam needed to go to some form of therapy every other day for those first few weeks out of the hospital, neither felt like the time was right at first.

But when the time did become right— well, Wes hadn’t expected to be quite so nervous to go out to dinner with a guy he’d known for a long time and already confessed his love to.

He straightened the tie he was wearing and smoothed down the dress shirt. It was a new suit that Sara had helped him pick out and he couldn’t help but be relieved. This was the first suit he’d ever bought that actually fit him. It hugged his body and looked pretty good— a far cry from the last date outfit he’d worn.

Oh, Nick. He had been such a nice guy—he’d never stood a chance.

Wes counted the awkward hey you’re awesome but I’m kind of back with my war torn ex phone call as the worst one he’d ever had. Nick took it well, if a little surprised, but Wes had burned red and winced the whole time.

The little prattle of four quick knocks on his door distracted Wes and he gulped in a huge breath of air, taking a deep breath.

Here goes nothing.

He opened the door.

Later, Wes would wonder if he was ever going to answer the goddamn door and not be fucking shell-shocked by how good Sam looked. He was getting a little sick of being struck speechless every time the man showed up.

But at the time, he didn’t think that. He didn’t think anything. He just gaped at Sam.

“Wes,” Sam said, grinning. His hair had grown out long during his captivity and though it was trimmed now, it was still much longer than Navy protocol. Wes felt his fingers itch with the desire to run his hands through the strands and pull, just to see what Sam did.

“Sam,” he said. His throat was dry and he cleared it twice before it felt close to normal again.

This man wrecked havoc on him, just by existing.

“You look…” Sam trailed off, shaking his head. He stepped forward. “Really fucking good.”

“Eloquent,” Wes breathed out. “You look—too. Really, really.”

“Eloquent,” Sam repeated jokingly. Wes swatted at him and pretended like it wasn’t just so he could skim his hands against Sam’s chest.

Goddamn that man was handsome.

Sam wore a dress shirt, blue and stark against his tanned skin. It made his eyes seem even bigger and bluer, which Wes had previously thought was impossible. He hadn’t really looked down but even from his peripheral, Wes could see that his pants were dark and tight and very, very good at their job.

Flashbacks of the other night soared through Wes’s head, fogging his thoughts. He stayed lost in the memory until Sam waved a hand in front of his face.

“Should we go?” Sam asked, cocking his head. He smirked widely and Wes pretended not to notice.

Disappointment flared in his stomach—not that he didn’t want to go out with Sam. It was just that staying in seemed like a really fucking good idea, too.

“Let’s get this date on the road!” Wes said and Sam laughed. His excitement for the date came back full force because, while staying in and making out for hours seemed like the perfect day, Wes would be lying if he said that doing anything with Sam didn’t seem like the perfect day.

Sam took a step back and gestured towards the doorway. “After you, Bright Eyes.”

“Thanks,” Wes said, heading out the door. He brushed past Sam and the two both shivered a little, bodies reacting to the tension they were both feeling at seeing each other.

Wes grinned. Sam scratched the back of his head, face heating.

“So, dinner,” Sam said.

Wes almost laughed. “Yes. We’re doing proper dating things.”

Sam did laugh. “Oh, how proud Tom and Sara would be.”

Wes couldn’t help but grin. “She demanded pictures.”

“From me, too,” Sam confirmed, rolling his eyes. “We’ll send her one at the restaurant.”

“We will?” Wes rose an eyebrow.

Sam turned his head, raising an eyebrow as well. “Yes?”

“We’re going to have to leave my hallway if you want to actually do that, though.”

Realization dawned on Sam’s face and he rolled his eyes. “After you,” he repeated, gesturing again.

He laughed and turned around, shutting and locking the door to his apartment before climbing down the stairs of his complex. He didn’t look back but could hear Sam following him.

It was a particularly nice feeling to know that the person you wanted with you was there, whether you could see them or not. Wes wasn’t sure if it was always like this or if it was just Sam, but suddenly, he wasn’t worried about Sam ever not being there.

They hadn’t even gone on their first date yet but Wes couldn’t shake the feeling of complete contentedness with their relationship, whatever it turned into. He knew so strongly right then that they would be fine no matter what was thrown at them.

They got to Sam’s car and he unlocked the door, looking like he was about to open it for him. Wes beat him to it and stuck his tongue out.

Sam laughed, crossing over to get into the driver’s side.

“So,” he said, once they were both buckled and the car was started. “You nervous?”

Wes looked at him and smiled. “Nope. You?”

Sam grinned back. “Nope.”

And Wes believed that really, neither of them were. When you loved someone, you didn’t need to be nervous.

The drive to the restaurant was only five minutes and they spent at least half of the time arguing about which radio station to listen to. Wes ended up winning and he got halfway through an old Rolling Stones song before Sam pulled into the parking lot.

It was the same Italian restaurant that Wes had gone to with Nick. It was the only nice place to eat in all of Poplar and Wes resigned himself to spending every major occasion there.

“They have pretty good pasta,” Sam said, scratching the back of his neck.

Wes smiled, trying not to let his face melt into a disgustingly gooey expression at how cute he found the other man. “I’ll keep that mind.”

Sam turned the key, shutting the car off and jumping out his door. He raced to the other door and swung it open as Wes was trying to open it himself.

“Pretending to be a gentleman?” Wes asked, raising an eyebrow.

Sam rolled his eyes but ducked his head to hide a growing, small smile. “I’m always a gentleman.”

“Don’t buy it,” Wes teased, tapping Sam on the chest twice before walking past him towards the door. He ignored the way his fingertips tingled from the contact and the awestruck expression on Sam’s face that he could see peripherally.

The hostess took Sam’s name to find their reservation and led them to a table in the back. There was a lit candle and no one else was around; Wes thought it already looked like the most romantic dinner of his life.

He settled into his chair and tried not to just openly stare at Sam as he settled into his. It proved pointless and unnecessary when Sam stared straight back.

The waiter came and gave them their menus, listing off the specials. They waited until he left to get their drinks before digging into the menu, looking at the various options. Sam listed off a couple that he remembered as being good and Wes suggested that they order separate things so that they could split them. Sam beamed at him and Wes wondered about how effortless it was to make the man smile like that.

The waiter came back and deposited the beers they had ordered. Wes took a pull of his and thought it might have been the best he’d ever had. Sam ordered for them and then took a drink of his own beer, offering Wes a little smile over the lip of his bottle.

“This is weird,” Wes blurted out. His face burned red with a blush as he scrambled to explain. “Like, it feels weird because it doesn’t. It should feel more weird, don’t you think?”

Things had been so hard between them for so long. To feel as if things were now as easy as breathing felt so nice and comfortable that it almost felt like a dream.

Sam’s smile grew, small dimples growing around the corners of his lips. “It’s a little weird,” he agreed.

Wes relaxed into the chair.

“I think that Sara about killed herself when Tom told her,” Sam said, taking another drink of his beer. Wes eyed the way his Adam’s apple bobbed, the pull of his throat and the sharpness of his jaw jutted out.

Sam shot him an amused look. Wes was pretty sure his eyes were glazed over.

“What?” he asked, shaking his head free from thoughts about the other night and his tongue on Sam’s pulse point and the sounds he’d made and— okay, settle down. Settle down. “What?”

“Our date,” Sam said through a lascivious grin. “Tom told Sara and she was—quite excited.”

Wes laughed. “Oh, sweet Sara. My fake girlfriend.”

“What?” Sam furrowed his eyebrows.

Wes waved him off. “Don’t worry about it. It was too good to be true.”

“You two are going to give Tom and I a run for our money, aren’t you?” Sam leaned forward, his elbows propped on the table. He looked up at Wes through his lashes, eyes dancing.

Wes’s mouth went completely dry. “No,” he said, though it sounded meek even to his own ears.

Sam’s lips twitched. “Alright.”

He kept leaning forward on the table, eyes sharp and watching as Wes struggled not to fidget under his scrutiny. Each time Wes gave in and shifted or darted his eyes down to Sam’s slightly parted lips, Sam’s smile would widen just a little bit.

It was a question of who would move first—would Sam move through the space and capture Wes’s lips or would Wes jump over the table and clutch Sam close to him?

Their game of chicken continued until the waiter came back, clearing his throat. He purposefully avoided looking either men in the eye and instead just sat their plates in front of them, asking if they needed anything else.

“Another beer, please,” Sam said, not taking his eyes off of Wes.

Wes’s blood was surging inside his body.

He was going to beat Sam up if he didn’t stop looking at him that way. Or do something equally inappropriate and physical in the restaurant.

With his food in front of him, Wes took a drink of his beer to quench the dryness in his throat before turning his attention to the plate of pasta in front of him.

“I think you were probably right,” Wes said, twirling some of the food on his fork. “This looks so good.”

Sam glanced down at Wes’s food and then his. “I guess we’ll find out.”

He watched while Wes took his first bite, eyes widening a bit when Wes couldn’t help but groan a little around the fork. “God damn,” he said, “this is so good.”

Sam cleared his throat, leaning back in his seat. “Good,” he said.

Wes dug into his plate, occasionally sneaking his fork over into Sam’s Fettuccini Alfredo. Sam jokingly swatted his fork away and glared at him, but pushed the bowl closer to Wes’s side of the table as soon as he’d stopped laughing.

“Tell me something I don’t know about you,” Sam said.

Wes’s gaze snapped to Sam’s, surprised. “Oh. Um.”

At his hesitance, Sam’s eyes widened and he pursed his lips for a moment.

“Anything,” Sam elaborated. “Doesn’t have to be anything special. Just—what’s your favorite drink?”

Wes tilted his head. “Coffee, probably. I’m also into whiskey.”

Sam’s face brightened as if Wes had told him something important or life altering.

“Coffee,” Sam repeated, as if memorizing it. “Any specific way?”

Wes shrugged. “Hot. But doesn’t have to be, I guess.”

Sam nodded seriously. “I like coffee, too.”

Wes bit his bottom lip to hold the smile in. “Anything else you like?”

Sam put one elbow on the table, leaning his chin on his open hand. He drummed his fingers against his cheek for a moment, thinking.

Wes felt a little like he was going to explode.

There was a little line between Sam’s eyebrows, wrinkles indicating how seriously he was taking this dumb question. He looked incredible in his suit and there was just a little bit of stubble on his face that Wes was absolutely floored by.

He looked—

Cute.

Wes nearly groaned at himself. Of course he was sitting around thinking about how cute Sam Carlisle was. He was so in love with this man.

A little thrill ran through his body when instead of the grief and guilt that he normally associated with being in love with Sam, he was rewarded with nothing but contentment and assurance.

“I like being here,” Sam admitted. His cheeks were tinged a little red and Wes realized with a start that was because he was blushing.

The great Sam Carlisle was blushing.

Holy shit.

“I like you being here,” Sam continued. He sat up, dropping his hands to his lap. “I—when I was gone, I used to write letters to you.”

Wes blinked, waiting for the words to click in his head with meaning.

He blinked again when he still didn’t understand. “What?”

“I didn’t send them,” Sam explained. “I wrote them to you—so many of them. Dozens, who even knows how many. Sometimes I’d write them on paper and even just seeing your name, it—it was—”

Somehow, Wes knew. It was enough.

It was too much.

He felt the same way every time he had thought Sam’s name.

“I would tell you about my day or the mission. I’d talk to you about that night we had together and how badly I wanted to come home and—I mean, I was never as specific as this, but I would talk about this. About us being here, just us, no mission or duty or responsibility to anything except this thing between us.”

Wes could feel that thing between them, their potential and their love all woven together as one giant, unmissable thing. He saw it as a gossamer sheet and when he spoke, he did it in a whisper so it wouldn’t disturb the threadlike fragility between them. “Why didn’t you send them?”

Sam picked up his beer but didn’t drink it. He tugged at the corner of the label, his jerking and the sweat dripping down the bottle making the paper give way easily.

“I don’t know,” Sam said. “I just—couldn’t.”

“You couldn’t send them? Any of them?” Wes had waited. His heart hammered in his chest, watching Sam struggle to explain.

“I wanted to sometimes. Other times, it felt like I would be admitting to something I wasn’t allowed to. You—everything about you. The things you said, the way I felt, the way I could still feel your breath against my face when I focused hard—you were like a dream. And if I sent you those letters, then it’d be making everything real. I—was afraid that making things real would mean I would wake up.” Sam swallowed hard and looked down. His eyes fluttered closed and he continued speaking, slower and quieter. “I’d rather have stayed asleep than given you up—even if you were just a dream.”

Wes could feel his heart in his throat.

Sam opened his eyes again but didn’t look up at Wes. “Does that make sense?”

Sam frowned into the bowl of pasta, fingers still toying with the label of his beer. Wes watched him.

Wes knew with an acuteness that he hadn’t felt before that Sam wasn’t just asking if it made sense. He was asking if Wes understood the meaning behind the words; he was asking if Wes could forgive him for that. If he could get past the year of silence.

Half of him wanted to demand that that wasn’t enough. He had been hurt, really hurt, for a long time. He wanted Sam to explain how he could be in love with him now and have felt the way he had then and still have ignored him for so long.

The other half of him wondered if it mattered.

If he held onto the pain from before, if he kept rehashing the things that they’d done wrong, then that’s what they’d become.

Sam looked up at him, eyes wide. He didn’t say anything but instead waited.

Wes realized with a start that he was in control here.

Maybe it was Sam laying it out there, finally honest and here, or maybe it was that Wes was finally the one who got to decide if things got better or worse, or maybe it was that it didn’t even fucking matter because they were both fucked up guys and they were in love with each other.

“I bet they were poetic,” he said after a beat.

Sam’s expression froze before melting into something so glorious, Wes would spend years trying to make the man replicate it. It was a gentle softness, so adoring and open that Wes felt like he was looking into a mirror that could see through his own chest into his heart.

“Some of them,” Sam said, sitting up straighter. He looked lighter. Wes wanted to touch him. “Some of them were really bad, though. I don’t precisely have a way with words.”

In a very un-datelike manner, Wes snorted. “You’ve given me half a dozen grand speeches and you think you don’t have a way with words?”

“Not the way you do,” Sam said. “You always—you make me see things that should’ve been clear all along.”

Wes’s face burned. “I do not.”

Sam’s brightness softened; instead of dimming like grins did on some people, Sam’s shifted to something so gentle it barely felt diminished at all. “You do for me.”

Sam laid one of his hands out on the table, an open ended offering. Wes slid his into the palm, accepting.

There would be days in the future when Wes got angry at Sam and when Sam could barely stand to look at Wes—he knew that they still had a lot to go through, whether they wanted to admit it or not.

But he didn’t care. Not because that didn’t matter or wouldn’t be hard, but because, in comparison, it was small.

Wes couldn’t imagine anything smaller than the problems between them because what they had, their gossamer thread of a growing future, was becoming stronger with each ticking second.

Wes could feel time acutely again.

It felt warm against his skin, as if it was water lapping against his toes on the sand. He could practically smell the salty sea air; he felt so on land it almost tipped him over.

Sam asked him another question. What is your favorite movie?

Addams Family was shot out quickly before Wes took his turn in their unannounced game. Best memory?

Sam smirked. “The other night. In your bed.”

Wes thought he heard the waiter choke on his own breath and scurry away. He didn’t bother lifting his gaze from Sam’s to check, though.

Each question was answered and parried out with another quickly. They absorbed the information each one of them offered. Wes loved the way Sam mouthed each of Wes’s answers to himself and the way he paused before he answered his own questions, as if to make sure he was telling the truth.

He felt like time could have stopped. Or maybe he was experiencing all of time, all at once.

Sam laughed at something Wes barely remembered saying and he felt happiness so bright it nearly stung.

They continued their game as they tried to make a dent in their food, which had been abandoned for long enough to go cold. Wes almost finished his bowl of pasta before lifting a heaping fork over the table towards Sam. “You have to try this.”

“I have to?” Sam asked, taking another bite of his own food.

Wes nodded solemnly. “If you don’t, we’ll never be able to truly understand each other. Because this is the goddamn best Spaghetti Bolognese I’ve ever had.”

Sam sighed as if it was a big compliance and sat his fork down, leaning over the table enough to wrap his lips around Wes’s fork.

His lips closed around the metal and when he pulled back, Wes didn’t care anymore if he liked the pasta. He was going to make him eat another bite anyway.

Sam chewed thoughtfully. “It is really good.”

“This is my new favorite place,” Wes said.

Sam looked around and shrugged. “Guess we’ll be here a lot, then.”

Wes felt that same thrilling heat from before surge through him. “You asking me on another date, Sam?”

Sam’s eyes stopped wandering and instead focused on Wes. He dragged his gaze down a little before flickering back up to Wes’s eyes. “I’m asking you on all of them.”

“All of them?” Wes’s voice decidedly did not squeak. He was positive his voice was not squeaking.

“Yes,” Sam said, dipping his head in a single nod. “I want to be the person you go on every date with, Wes.”

Wes didn’t reply. He couldn’t speak around the emotion in his throat.

“It’s early. It’s our first date and we’ve barely spent any time together since I’ve gotten back. But—some things in life don’t make sense. Some of them are hard and difficult and confusing and, Wes, I might have made our situation seem like that, but we’re not. Sitting here with you, I know that you’re it for me. I was afraid you were a dream because being with you feels like—”

“Clicking into place,” Wes murmured.

“Exactly. Yeah, exactly. It feels like I’m finally the person I’ve been trying to be. It feels like—home.” Sam reached out again and grabbed Wes’s hand. He rubbed his thumb across the back of Wes’s hand. “I’m in, Bright Eyes. One hundred percent, I’m in this with you. If you’ll have me.”

Wes swallowed hard around the lump in his throat. It took two tries. “Me, too. Yeah, of course, Sam, of course. One hundred percent. Me, too.”

Sam’s answering smile looked like his soul was shining out of him. He leaned across the table and Wes’s lips tingled with anticipated and—

A clearing of a throat broke their trance. Wes and Sam froze before blinking up at the waiter who had come out of nowhere.

“Sorry to interrupt,” the waiter looked young and bright red. Wes almost felt bad for him. “Dessert?”

Sam glanced at Wes and raised an eyebrow, gesturing for him to decide.

Wes smiled. “Do you guys have any cannoli?”

The waiter nodded. “Of course. And for you?”

“Sure, the same,” Sam offered the waiter a smile and Wes thought the guy might pass out. He couldn’t blame him. Sam’s smile was incredibly disarming.

* * *

So Wes did like going on dates with Sam. Actually— he really liked going on dates with Sam.. With Sam, he wasn’t worried about how he was presenting himself. Wes knew that with Sam, he was himself— entirely and always.

He was pretty excited about that.

But he couldn’t ignore the fact that as nice as the dinner part of the date was, he was looking forward to a different part much, much more.

The whole evening had been filled with this quiet waiting that Wes was pretty sure was just on his side. But every swipe of Sam’s tongue across his lips, every slow moving fork that disappeared into his mouth, every laugh that resulted in his neck being bare and exposed for Wes to long after—

Wes was really fucking looking forward to the end of the date.

So when Sam pulled up to Wes’s apartment complex and made no move to come inside, Wes nearly yelled something very inappropriate for the context.

“So,” he said, tapping his fingers on his lap.

Sam smiled back, oblivious and serene. “So.”

“I—I had a nice time tonight,” Wes hinted.

Sam ignored it or was way dumber than Wes was giving him credit for. “Me, too!” He said brightly. “If—well, if you’re free, we could go out again this weekend.”

A little of the annoyance melted away. Goddamn, this guy was so sweet.

Wes was already in love with him. He could’ve just been casual and downright obnoxious and Wes was already sold. He was pretty sure he was obnoxious through the entirety of their weird courting.

But Wes was pretty fond of the sweetness.

“I would love that,” he said, genuinely.

Sam beamed. “Awesome. Me, too.”

Wes waited a few more seconds before deciding, fuck it, subtlety is for idiots.

“Do you want to come inside?” Wes said, a bit too firmly.

Sam’s eyes widened. “Oh. Yes. I mean, yeah, sure. Yes.”

Wes grinned. “Alright then.”

“Alright then,” Sam repeated. He didn’t move but after almost a minute, shook his head hard and then turned the engine to the car off. “I—okay.”

Wes grinned and unbuckled his seatbelt, climbing out of the car.

The walk to his apartment was the most energized that Wes had ever taken those stairs. While he’d normally be breathless at the top, Wes hadn’t started the climb with any breath so it really didn’t affect him all that much.

His hands were shaking a little and it took him longer than he cared for to actually unlock his apartment. He opened the door wide, gesturing towards the honestly pretty messy living room.

“It’s not much, but it’s home.”

Sam hummed. “I’ve been here before.”

Wes’s tongue clicked. “Right, yeah. Of course.”

“No special reason,” Sam teased, crossing his arms and leaning against the door frame. “Just me confessing my love to you.”

Wes burst out in laughter. Half of it was genuine while the other half was the nerves inside his gut trying to come out.

“Do you want a drink?”

“No.”

“Something to eat?”

“Just came from dinner?”

“Oh. Right. Um. Anything to drink?”

“Wesley?” Sam asked, standing straighter and taking a step away from the door frame.

Wes swallowed hard. “Yes?”

“Shut up.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

Sam grinned at him. His arms were still crossed and it pulled his nice shirt tight against his chest, accentuating the way his body swelled against the fabric.

Wes was pretty sure it was rude to technically stare at someone. He didn’t stop staring.

“So,” Sam said after a minute. “Do you want to watch some TV? Or—something?”

Wes swallowed hard again; he saw Sam’s eyes track the movement, gaze sharpening as Wes’s Adam’s apple bobbed.

“No,” Wes tried to speak in a normal tone but it came out in a whisper.

Sam cocked his head. “A board game?”

He was toying with him. Wes straightened his back. “No.”

“Anything?”

Wes stopped. His tongue popped out of his mouth, gently running across his dry lips. He felt like his whole throat was completely dry. His hands felt like jello. He was pretty sure he was seconds away from becoming actual, literal jello.

Sam smirked when Wes said nothing. It morphed to a smile when Wes’s eyes fell to Sam’s lips.

His expression was goddamn breathtaking.

Wes could feel in that instant exactly why he’d first been attracted to Sam. This wasn’t a man that could be taken lightly; Sam was enthralling in his every move.

Standing in front of him, Sam looked better than anything or anyone Wes could’ve ever dreamt of.

He’d dreamt of this moment for a year—longer, if he wanted to get technical about it. Fantasies about kisses and touches and a little bit of love and lust had crowded his subconscious for longer than he cared to admit.

He remembered the feeling of his own hands on his body and the way he’d so desperately wished it had been Sam’s fingertips and Sam’s palms and Sam’s body. He had wanted that so badly.

Sam licked his bottom lip; spit-shiny and bright red, it looked so good Wes wanted to take a bite.

“Bright Eyes,” Sam drew out the nickname, his own brilliant eyes locked on Wes’s. Sam’s pupils were huge, dilated until nearly all the color had been swallowed by the dark black. He had his jaw locked and his chest rose and fell in a distracting pace. “Come here.”

Wes stumbled forward; he was incapable of denying this Sam anything. The hunger on his face was mesmerizing.

Sam lifted his hands. He put one on Wes’s hip, fingers curling around the bone there and tugging him even closer to Sam. Though they were still far enough away to not be touching, the air between them felt so tangible that Wes could feel it against his skin. It hugged the curves of his body, a gossamer touch of nothingness that Wes nearly trembled for.

Sam’s other hand clasped around his neck, fingers winding into the the hair on Wesley’s neck. When he scraped his nails against his scalp, Wes let out a shaky breath, unable to hold it in his lungs.

He was barely being touched—Sam was careful to keep his touches light and the air, though it felt like a physical barrier, technically didn’t touch him. Wes still felt ruined from the contact.

“Wesley,” Sam said. His name sounded so good in Sam’s mouth that Wes let out that same broken sigh and nudged himself forward slightly. “I want to kiss you. Please let me kiss you.”

Wes forgot how to speak. The words, the desperate yes and please and yeah, right fucking now what are you waiting for all died in his throat. Wes thoroughly forgot how to make sounds.

So he decided words were unnecessary. After all, actions spoke louder. And right now, Wes felt like screaming.

He dug his hands into Sam’s hair and pinned his lips on Sam’s, swallowing the surprised sound that broke from Sam’s throat.

He kissed Sam hard. There was a bruising intensity to the way that they pressed against one another. Wes’s hands tugged on Sam’s hair, pulling and yanking him until they were pressed tight against one another, lips and tongues working in tandem to absolutely wreck one another.

Sam gave as good as he got. His fingers dug into Wes’s side, nails biting into the sensitive skin there. He drew his tongue out and lightly traced Wes’s bottom lip before using his teeth to gently bite at the swollen lip. Then he soothed it with a quick swipe of his tongue.

Wes couldn’t breathe. He didn’t want to breathe.

He needed to breathe.

He tore himself back, panting.

Sam, apparently, had no such qualms about air. While Wes gulped in oxygen, Sam attached his lips to Wes’s neck, pulling and sucking on the skin there. Wes groaned, loud and wanton and embarrassing, when Sam bit at his pulse point. He soothed it the same way he had his lip.

Wes felt like putty underneath Sam’s delicate torture. He moved up and down the side, sucking hard on the sharp line of Wes’s jaw, kissing gently over the bulge of his Adam’s apple, pulling and pressing and giving just enough pressure that Wes felt dizzy all over.

His whole body was foggy and vibrating. When Sam did pull away, barely and just briefly, Wes dove and recaptured Sam’s lips. When Wes pressed harder, pushing his tongue into Sam’s mouth, Sam accepted and gave the lead to Wes.

Wes didn’t kiss as harshly; he slowed them down, moving his lips slow and light, then slow and hard, drawing out the movement until they were both panting into each other’s mouth. Sam followed every tilt of Wes’s head, moving closer and closer and groaning with satisfaction every time Wes pressed his lips on Sam’s mouth.

Eventually, the little groans turned to big ones and Sam pulled back, panting heavily. “Bedroom?”

“God, yes.” Wes spun around and stalked towards the bedroom. He could barely hear Sam follow him through the heavy sound of his pulse booming in his ears, but Wes could feel Sam. He knew he was following him.

Wes turned around again when he got into the bedroom. He jumped when Sam kicked the door shut and kept walking in a fast pace, stopping just short of running into Wes. He captured Wes’s bottom lip between his, pulling and teasing on the sensitive flesh while he stuck his hands into the waistline of Wes’s pants, untucking his shirt.

His fingertips skimmed the hot skin there, gentle and teasing and Jesus Christ Wes was going to die tonight.

Sam pulled away and looked him up and down; the look was hungry and demanding and Wes was totally and completely okay with dying. He was ready. He would die a happy, happy man.

“I want to take this off of you,” Sam said lowly, tugging at the material of Wes’s new shirt.

“Oh— Okay. Okay,” Wes agreed, nodding quickly.

Sam grinned. It looked dangerous. Wes swayed a little on his feet.

He couldn’t believe he was so out of it while Sam seemed so in control. It was unfair. He wanted Sam to be out of control as well.

Think, Adams, think, think, think.

Wes closed his eyes. He wasn’t going to screw this up by going so fast he didn’t even do a good job. He had the advantage here; whereas, apparently, Sam had so much goddamn natural sex appeal it ought to have been illegal, Wes had been spending the majority of his adulthood fantasizing about Sam.

He knew very well what he wanted to do to Sam. He even had theories about what things Sam would like the most.

It seemed like it was time for Wes to put those theories into practice.

Sinking to his knees, he almost laughed at Sam’s gaping expression.

Well, it’s for science, Wes thought before closing his eyes.

Gently, he mouthed the material at the front of Sam’s pants. He moved lightly, lips and tongue moving in the slowest and most tantalizing way. Sam let out a holy fucking shit oh my god! and wound his fingers into Wes’s hair, digging hard.

Wes grinned. He nipped just at the material, causing it to bunch up ever so slightly, and reveled in the way Sam bucked his hips up.

With Sam thoroughly distracted, Wes’s hands went to work undoing his belt buckle and pulling it through the loops. He dropped it to the floor with a clang.

“Wesley,” Sam said through clenched teeth. Wes looked up, blinking. Sam groaned, head lolling. “Fucking hell, don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” Wes asked, cocking his head to the side.

“Like—” Sam shook his head. He let go of Wes’s head, untangling his fingers from his hair and instead dropped them to Wes’s shoulders. He hauled the other man up, pulling him flush against him.

This time, Wes groaned.

He could feel the firm outline of Sam’s body against his own. It was hard and warm through their clothes, chests pressed together and groins slotted in place just right that if Sam moved—

Sam moved.

Wes nearly blacked out.

“Shit,” Sam hissed. His head fell back again, his chest heaving up and down as he breathed. Wes took the position for what it offered him and he attached his lips again to Sam’s pulse point.

He sucked gently on the skin there, using his teeth and tongue to change the sensation each time Sam seemed to relax into it and get used to the feeling. Sam’s fingers dug into Wes’s arms, fingernails digging hard into the material.

When Wes moved his lips to gently press against the other side of Sam’s throat, dragging his tongue against the raised goosebumps there, Sam’s hands flattened and then flexed against Wes’s arms.

He moved them to Wes’s chest, struggling to take Wes’s shirt off. When Wes pulled back, he saw the struggles were because Sam’s hands were shaking.

Success.

He put his hands over Sam’s, helping to push the shirt over his head and off his body.

Wes took a step towards Sam.

Putting his hands on either side of his face, Wes kissed him hard. Sam gently ran his hands down Wes’s chest.

The feeling of Sam’s hands on him was overwhelming.

Wes thought he had to have died already—feeling the swipe of Sam’s thumb across his nipple, the way his fingers pressed hard and then soft on his abs, his lips moving in tandem with Wes’s to create what had to have been the best kiss on fucking earth and the—

Holy shit.

Sam’s hands dipped below the waistline of Wes’s pants. He used his knuckles to scrape against the sensitive flesh there, pushing his pants down. When the slacks pooled around his ankles, Sam gripped either side of Wes’s hips and lifted him, kicking the pants away.

Sam crowded him, fingers dancing along his hip bones and the thin, thin material of Wes’s boxer shorts.

He kept moving closer and closer until Wes was pushed back and his knees hit the side of the bed. He fell on it, bouncing just a little bit. When Sam made to crawl on top of him, Wes scooted so he was lying the right way and there would be enough room.

“You—” Wes could barely speak. He kept trying and after a few false starts, he managed to get the syllables out. “You’re entirely too dressed.”

Sam stopped, tilting his head. He grinned and nodded. “Okay.”

He sat back up on the back of his legs and tore his shirt off, tossing it over the side of the bed.

Wes’s mouth went dry.

Goddamn, how did he look so good?

Wes’s hands rose without his permission, gently tracing the outline of Sam’s body. There were thinly defined muscles that he must’ve only just started to get back.

Along his abdomen was a long, jagged scar. Wes made to touch it and Sam’s hand shot up, grabbing Wes’s to stop him.

Suddenly, speaking wasn’t an issue.

“Let me,” Wes said gently. “I want to see you. Feel you.”

Sam watched him, giving him a long, hard look. Then he nodded and let go of Wes’s hand.

He traced the scar with his fingertips, barely touching the skin. Sam’s back rippled into a shiver at the touch and when Wes was finished, he continued exploring the rest of the skin Sam had exposed to him.

He moved his hands across the plains of his shoulders and down his arms. There were scars but also freckles and moles and holy shit every bit of Sam was beautiful and perfect.

Wes had never loved anyone this much. It nearly hurt, the way it kept trying to burst out of him.

When Wes had finished exploring, he leaned back on the pillows, dropping his hands to the side. He looked up and noticed that Sam was already looking at him.

His expression had never looked quite so open or wrecked before.

“Sam—”

The rest of Wes’s words were swallowed down into Sam’s mouth as he kissed him with a ferocity that he hadn’t previously displayed. This was desperate and honest and claiming.

“I love you,” Sam gasped out, reattaching his lips the second the words were out.

Wes moaned loudly. When Sam pulled away to breathe, Wes managed to return the sentiment.

“I love you.”

They both repeated the words, looking at one another. Though there was desperation in their words and eyes, there was a gentleness that Wes had never seen before; had never felt before. He had never felt so sure in his whole life as he did right then, Sam’s body only inches away from his own.

“Please,” Wes begged.

He wasn’t sure what he was asking for. He couldn’t explain the need in him— did he want more words or more kisses or more touching or— he didn’t care. He just wanted Sam.

Sam, though, understood. “Yes, God, yes.”

He rolled them so they were on their sides and Wes helped push his pants down while Sam shimmied out of them. When Sam was naked and flushed against him, he pulled at Wes’s boxers.

They laid against one another, side by side. Sam hitched a leg between Wes’s.

Wes’s eyes fluttered shut. He wasn’t sure if the unsteady, gasping breathing he could hear was his or Sam’s. He wasn’t sure if the pulse he felt was coming from beneath his skin or on top of it. He wasn’t sure that it even mattered.

Sam kissed him.

It was gentle and it reminded Wes of their first kiss.

It tasted like promises and stardust and nights that didn’t end because they existed outside of time. It felt like everything in his life was being woven together, magically stitching each different part of him to one another. The kiss was deep and slow and it was something that transcended desire and lust.

Wes had spent a long time lusting after Sam and he’d spent a long time being in love with him but this—this actuality, this loving him, fully and tangibly, it was something altogether different.

It was the most grounded that Wes had ever felt.

He felt as steady as the earth itself. He felt like he’d never been unsteady.

Sam reached between them, fingers tightening around both of their hardened dicks. He moved them together, hands moving up and down slowly. The motion was aided by the precome dripping from both of their heads, smoothing the motion so well. Wes clutched onto Sam’s arms, mouth falling open. Sam stopped kissing him until he felt in control enough to move his lips as well.

“Sam, Sam, Sam, Sam,” Wes chanted his name, pulling away from the kiss to press his cheek hard into the pillow.

Sam’s hips stuttered forward, rutting gently and moving his body against Wes’s in a way that was so enthralling it was nearly too much.

Everything about this evening was almost too much. It rode the cusp of perfection so closely that Wes felt the happiness so strong it almost felt like sadness. He felt out of his mind.

He kept saying Sam’s name between curses and pleas and underneath each word was this tidal wave of desperation that Sam responded to with his own equal, unrelenting desire.

Wes opened his eyes when he realized he had them clenched shut and groaned loudly when he saw that Sam was already looking at him, watching his face with rapt attention. His eyes flickered across his face and neck, darkening when they landed on the bruises that Wes knew Sam had sucked into the skin there. His eyes flickered back up to Wes’s and Wes couldn’t help but surge forward for a quick kiss when their eyes connected. There was no color to Sam’s eyes, just dark black pupil, and Wes was going to cry from the intensity of the desire he felt. Seeing it mirrored in Sam’s eyes almost sent him over the edge.

In the end, though, it was Sam who went first, hips bucking wildly for a moment while Wes’s moved in a lazy, easy motion. His hands slid up Sam’s arms and landed on his neck. He rubbed his thumbs on either side of Sam’s jaw in a soft, gentle way.

Wes couldn’t look away. Sam swiped his thumb across the head of Wes’s dick and he let out a breathy sigh. “Sam.”

Hearing his name like that set him off.

Sam groaned, loud, and came with a start. His hand stilled and tightened almost painfully around both of them. Wes watched with awe at the way Sam’s face tightened, eyes scrunching up and lips parting wide and open.

When Sam’s face relaxed and he opened his eyes, his face lifted to a gentle smile.

Wes followed suit, coming hard between their stomachs. The feeling rooted itself in his stomach but spread through every nerve he had; his vision went black and his throat made loud, gravelly sounds as his toes curled and his hands tightened briefly around Sam’s face.

Laughing, Sam pried Wes’s fingers off his face as Wes was floating down from the high.

“Don’t kill me,” he joked in a whisper.

Wes blushed. “Sorry.”

He also spoke in a whisper. The moment felt fragile, as if things could come crashing down between them at any moment.

Wes’s head felt fuzzy. He couldn’t think straight.

He wasn’t sure if that was because of the incredible orgasm or if it was because Sam was still watching him softly, lying naked in bed with him.

Wes didn’t care much. He relaxed into the mattress.

Taking a deep breath, he let it all out in one exhale.

“I love you,” Wes said.

Sam’s smile morphed into something much, much brighter. “I love you, too.”

They were sweaty and messy. They needed to clean up and Wes wasn’t even sure either of them closed the front door, let alone locked it. He needed to hang up his clothes because they were the only nice things he actually owned and he didn’t know if Sam even wanted to stay the night and if he did, Wes should probably find the spare toothbrush he kept and—

Sam put two fingers on his forehead.

Wes frowned. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to stop you from thinking so much,” Sam said. He smiled and his eyes crinkled around the corner, just a little. Wes’s heart fluttered at the sight. “Don’t worry so much.”

“Can’t help it,” Wes said. But the worry did dissipate, floating away when Sam put his hand on the top of Wes’s head, petting at the hair there. He ran his fingers through the strands, light and gentle.

When Wes fell asleep, it wasn’t to the idea of maybe seeing Sam again, the way he’d fallen asleep in that bed so many other times before.

Instead, it was to Sam playing with his hair and murmuring his thoughts into Wes’s ear and the utter confidence that Sam would be there when he woke up again.

Thoughts from the last time they stood in Wes’s living room assaulted him. He could feel the phantom touches of Sam’s hands on his body, his lips on his pulse point, his fingers wrapped around his hard, leaking cock.

A flash of heat surged through Wes’s body, curling hot and tight in his stomach. He could feel the tendons of the taut muscles there spreading out, tightening his whole body in breathless anticipation.

Wes took a stumbling step backwards until he bumped into the edge of the couch. He curled his hand around the top of the cushion, leaning against it. His legs felt weak. Sam hadn’t even touched him yet, goddammit.

“You look,” Sam took a breath, looking Wes up and down. “Flushed.”

“It’s warm,” Wes offered weakly.

Sam’s answering look resembled the same hunger from the other night; something innate and deep, rather than superfluous. Sam chucked his jacket off his body, letting it fall in a heap on the floor. He stalked towards Wes until he stood directly in front of him, their bodies a hair’s breadth away from touching.

“Could be warmer,” Sam said.

Wes didn’t answer. He was pretty sure his words would be transformed into moans the second they touched his lips.

Sam put one hand on Wes’s hip, curling his fingers around the bone there. He ran the other through Wes’s hair, carding it through the strands and scraping his fingernails against Wes’s scalp.

Wes hummed a little at the feeling and Sam’s lips twitched. He cocked his head, looking down at Wes with an increasingly softening expression.

“Feels good,” Wes mumbled.

Sam dropped a kiss on Wes’s forehead before tugging a little harder on the hair. When one move pulled a little tightly, Wes let out a shaky gasp.

Sam smirked. It burned through Wes’s thoughts and went straight to his gut.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” Sam murmured, lowering his head to say the words softly in Wes’s ear. “I’ve been thinking about how good you’d feel.”

“W—When?”

“When I did this.”

Wes threw his head back, a loud, guttural sound torn from his throat when one of Sam’s hands tightened in his hair and the other slide across his hip before darting into his pants. He hadn't even noticed Sam unbuttoning them until Sam’s hand slid down the front of his boxers and cupped him gently. Wes was already half-hard and half-mad with lust.

He jutted his hips forward just slightly, his throat still begging out little sounds.

“I thought about how good you’d look,” Sam continued, resuming his strokes of Wes’s hair. His other hand held mercilessly still, just letting the little lilts of Wes’s hips control the feeling. “I thought about how goddamn dark those bright eyes of yours would get.”

Wes’s eyes flew open at the comment and Sam’s mouth parted in a silent O when he looked right at him. Wes watched with perverse fascination when the color of Sam’s eyes disappeared completely, pupil black as night in his wide eyes.

Wes felt debauched.

He thrust up again, desperate for more.

“Good,” Sam praised. He ran two of his fingers across the front of Wes’s boxers, catching the tip of Wes’s cock with the tip of his thumb. Wes’s eyes fluttered closed and Sam froze until Wes forced them open again. He was rewarded instantly when Sam started to move the back of his knuckles gently against the fabric, catching the ridges of Wes’s cock every few motions.

“Please.” Wes was going to die.

He was so fucking willing to die.

“Not yet,” Sam said. He dropped his hand from Wes’s hair and pulled his other from the inside of Wes’s pants.

Wes let out the most embarrassing, whiny sound he’d ever heard. It was a part of him and he couldn’t stop the sound.

Sam looked him up and down. “Impatient.”

Fucker.

Wes lunged at Sam, throwing his arms around Sam’s neck and kissing him hard.

He moved his lips in a way that lacked technique but was instead just innate need. It was desperate and sloppy and harsh and Sam gave as good as he got.

Wes kissed him until his lungs were practically screaming in protest and when he finally pulled back, both men stared at each other with red lips and dark eyes, panting heavily.

Wes fought through his inability to catch his breath, unbuttoning Sam’s shirt with trembling hands. Sam tore his tie off and toed out of his shoes. When he was bare chested and just wearing his pants, undone and slung low on his lips, he turned his attention to Wes.

Wes let Sam undress him, savoring the way his hands skimmed across his body. He shivered when Sam’s knuckles scraped against his sensitive skin, head lolling back and baring his neck for Sam.

Sam took the gift. He attached his lips to Wes’s neck instantly, sucking on the skin. He bit gently and lavished the tender spots with his tongue. Wes rotated his hips, gently pushing them against Sam’s as Sam worked on his neck.

Wes let the gasping sounds out of his mouth, no longer caring if they sounded wanton or loud. He tangled his fingers in Sam’s hair, holding him in place. Sam moaned when Wes pulled gently and through the foggy haze of lust he was trapped in, Wes tried to make a mental reminder of that sound.

When the entirety of Wes’s neck was sore and bruised from Sam’s mouth, Sam pulled away. He wiped his wet lips on the back of his hand before kissing Wes soft on the mouth.

Wes’s hand fell from Sam’s hair to his neck and down his bare chest. He used his fingers to explore the great expanse of Sam’s chest, the way his body had filled and grown since the last night they’d spent together.

Wes had thought about very few things other than Sam’s hands on him since that night. He was determined that tonight was going to leave Sam with the very distinct memory of Wes’s hands on him.

Sam pulled away again. This time, he finished undressing himself. He pushed his pants down and let his underwear fall with it, stepping out of the clothes as soon as he finished.

Wes’s mouth went dry.

He forgot his plan and instead came up with a better one.

Fuck me, he thought, a little awed.

Sam had been naked in front of Wes before but this—standing there, cock bouncing long and thick, the head swollen and red and just inches away from Wes—

Wes had never been this turned on before.

He felt nearly faint from the arousal. His blood was all decidedly in one area of his body and if he didn’t do something soon, he was going to pass out.

“Bedroom,” he croaked out. It sounded like he had spent a week gargling salt water and gravel.

Sam grabbed his hand and led the way.

When they got to Wes’s room, Sam pushed the rest of Wes’s clothes off of him, before climbing onto the bed. Wes scrambled to join him quickly.

Sam sat against the pillows pushed against the headboard of the bed, legs straightened out on the bed. Wes took a moment just to look at him; the long lines of his body, the thin stripes of his muscles and the way his body was covered with a light dusting of hair and scars. Sam had healed from the injuries he’d received but the scars still remained, etched into his body.

It made him look stronger. Like a survivor. Wes wanted to memorize each one.

Wes straddled Sam’s thighs, one leg on either side of his hips. He placed his hands firmly on Sam’s chest, rubbing his thumbs gently across Sam’s pecs. Sam’s eyes fluttered closed.

Wes pushed harder, using the rest of his hand to massage gently at Sam’s pecs and then shoulders. Wes smiled, watching the way his body relaxed.

When Sam looked melted against the pillows, Wes moved his hands down Sam’s body. He continued pressing, alternating between hard rubs and gentle strokes, until he was at Sam’s hips.

There, he pressed into the bone and on his upper thigh, massaging the area and pretending not to notice the way Sam’s cock bobbed, desperate for attention.

Only when Sam let out a little groan of frustration and thrust his hips upwards did Wes relent. He ran his fingers gently around the area surrounding the one place Sam wanted to be touched most, rubbing at the short, soft hair that grew there.

“Wesley,” Sam groaned out, throwing his head back hard enough to hit the headboard; he didn’t even seem to notice. “Fuck, Wes, touch me.”

Shivers ran down Wes’s back. “Yes, sir,” he joked. When Sam groaned again and his hips stuttered, Wes made sure to file that away for later, too.

Wes stopped rubbing the area around Sam’s dick and slid down his body a little, positioning himself. Then, with no notice to warn Sam, Wes swallowed hard around Sam’s cock, sliding his tongue down and around the shaft.

Sam’s eyes flew open and his hips thrust upwards so hard that Wes nearly gagged. “Holy fucking shit, oh, goddamn, oh, Wes!”

Wes relaxed his throat, gently toying with the tip of Sam’s dick and the precome beading there while Sam got control of his thrusts. Wes held hard onto one side of Sam’s hip to help stop him from thrusting. When he stopped completely, Wes started moving again.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d done this.

He decided that it didn’t matter.

Wes moved his lips slowly, bobbing his head up and down at a deliberate and leisurely speed. He waited until Sam started to moan, his hips rocking just a little against the press of Wes’s hand and lips, before he sped up. He wrapped his tongue around the head, then slid it down the underside of Sam’s cock, long and just a little hard. Then he relaxed again and took him down as far as he could, swallowing hard.

Sam’s groans started to grow louder and louder until he was mixing praises and curses in between each guttural breath.

“Fuck, fuck, shit, oh, Wes, yes. God, you’re so good. You’re so good, Wesley, Jesus Christ.”

Wes pulled off, panting just a little, and replaced his lips with his hand. His spit and the precome dripping down made it smooth enough for Wes to move fast, fingers curled tightly and he twisted his wrist just there and—

“Fuck!” Sam jerked up. “Shit, stop.”

Wes halted immediately. “Yeah?”

“Come here,” Sam said, voice thoroughly ruined.

Wes complied immediately. When he moved up Sam’s body, his ignored, hard cock brushed against Sam’s wet, used one—both men hissed at the friction.

Wes shifted until he fell next to Sam, leaning on his side. Sam moved so he was on his side as well and they interlocked their legs. Wes sank his teeth into his bottom lip to hold in the sounds of satisfaction when their cocks once again brushed.

“Fuck,” Sam said, shaking his head. He leaned in and they kissed, softer than usual, but just as intense. Wes wondered if every kiss with Sam would be intense—would feel earth shattering.

Wes buried his head into Sam’s neck, kissing and nibbling gently at the skin there. Sam sighed in a perfectly satisfied way and Wes’s heart surged in tandem with his blood.

Sam threw one arm around Wes’s waist, pulling him closer. They joined together, aligning their hips, and rocking into one another. Wes laid his head back and held onto Sam’s shoulders, fingernails digging into the skin there. He held on tightly enough to leave marks but Sam didn’t complain, merely pulled Wes even closer.

“I want you,” Sam said, low in his throat. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Wes felt the heady rush of Sam’s desire as something tangible against his skin.It covered him and he wanted to melt it into his muscles, carry it always on top of him like armor.

They kissed again. They kissed until Wes became convinced there was no start of his lips and end of Sam’s, but instead, they were creating something new and just theirs between their lips.

“Please,” Wes murmured between their kisses, again and again and again until Sam pulled back.

“What do you want?” He asked, blinking rapidly as if trying to clear his own fog from his head. “Please, tell me, Bright Eyes.”

“You,” Wes struggled to explain how thoroughly he wanted Sam, how entirely and completely. “I just need you, please.”

Sam cocked his head to the side, raising his eyebrows.

Wes nodded to an unasked question. He slid one hand up and cupped Sam’s cheek, running his thumb across Sam’s cheekbone. “Please.”

“I—I don’t have anything.”

Wes blinked, trying to think. “I—I do. Hold on.” He shifted, sitting on his knees. His cock was still hard and red and he did his best to ignore it as he dug in the nightstand. He pulled out a pack of condoms and lube, offering it to Sam wordlessly.

Sam swallowed hard once, then twice, before he looked up at Wes. “You’re sure?”

Wes nodded eagerly. “Please. If you are.”

“I am,” Sam said quickly. “Yes, absolutely.”

Wes’s lips quirked up in a half smile. “Who’s impatient now?”

Sam rolled his eyes, “Still you.”

Wes slapped his arm softly, bouncing back on the bed and sitting next to Sam. Sam took the condoms and lube from him, looking at the packages. “Never been opened.”

Wes studiously pretended not to be blushing. “I had high hopes for our date, I guess.”

Sam’s head snapped to Wes. He stared blankly for a second before bursting into laughter. “Oh, Wes. You’re—”

“Handsome and charming?” Wes inserted, a bit hopefully.

Sam smiled, tilting his head. He leaned over and kissed Wes’s forehead. “Precisely.”

Sam sat the items beside them on the bed, before turning. He put one arm around Wes, fist on the bed to prop him up just a little above the smaller man. Wes looked up at him, a little bit enthralled by his entirety.

Sam leaned down and pressed his lips to Wes’s. Wes moved closer winding one hand around Sam’s neck, fingers running through the hair at the nape of his neck. It was soft and nice and when Wes had enough of soft and nice, he tugged hard.

Sam’s mouth opened wide in a gasp and Wes took advantage of his momentary surprise and deepened the kiss, tilting his head and pressing even closer to Sam. He pressed his chest flat against Sam’s, their hips rotating and lifting up to meet one another.

“Sam,” Wes murmured the name when he broke free to inhale deeply, exhaling before kissing him again. Sam’s hands roamed his body, fingernails scraping against his biceps and down his back, almost enough to hurt. Wes let out a soft, whining sound when Sam started massaging into the flesh of Wes’s ass, grabbing him as leverage to push himself further against Wes. Their thrusts continued in a nearly desperate way until Wes was harder than he thought he’d ever been and leaking.

He couldn’t think. Could barely breathe. Didn’t know anything or want anything except Sam’s hands and mouth and cock and god, he loved this man.

“I love you,” Sam said at the same time that Wes pulled away to say it.

He smiled into Sam’s mouth. “I love you, too.”

Sam kept tilting his hips up while his hands kept massaging Wes until he felt like he was jello in Sam’s arms.

He didn’t even realize he was blabbering on his pleas and curses until Sam cursed under his breath and Wes felt the words dry in his mouth.

“Please,” Wes repeated, this time on purpose.

Sam looked at him. The color of his eyes was nearly completely gone but they were still bright. Wes thought it was silly that Sam always called him bright eyes when, really, Sam had the brightest eyes of all.

Sam hands shook when he reached behind himself to grab the abandoned lube. He put some on his fingers, a generous amount that spoke to his nerves more than anything else, and moved his hand back to Wes.

The first touch was cold enough that Wes jerked a little. The second was light enough that he focused on breathing, still and even and sure.

The third was good enough that he stopped thinking about the touches individually.

Sam worked him open slowly, deliberately. Each movement seemed as calculated as it was confident. Where he had seemed so nervous only moments before, Wes couldn’t see any nerves in the way Sam moved. It was as if he knew Wes’s body, inside and out, without even being introduced.

Sam watched his face closely while his fingers and wrist moved in confident, sure movements. Wes groaned each time he shifted, long moans drawn out of his lips in between each gasping, short breath he pushed out. Within minutes, Wes was a moaning, panting mess. His cock throbbed from the lack of attention and he pushed back hard against Sam’s fingers, uncaring at how desperate that must have looked.

He bit down on Sam’s shoulder when Sam twisted just right, a long string of curse words pouring out from between his lips and Sam’s skin.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he couldn’t stop talking, couldn’t stop feeling.

Sam’s voice broke through the haze, just barely. It sounded choked. “Oh, goddamn, Wes.”

“Now, please, now.” Wes thrust again and again against Sam’s thighs. He felt closer than he’d ever been, teetering on the edge of something that felt colossal. He felt like the universe was inside his chest and he was one wrong move from letting it all explode.

Sam pulled his fingers out slowly, wiping them against both their thighs. Wes nearly let out another whiny sound, feeling the emptiness as strongly as he’d felt the presence only a second before. He missed the feeling of Sam inside him instantly. Sam pulled the condom on quickly.

Wes flipped to the other side, his legs already jello and his body jittering with anticipation.

Carefully and smoothly, Sam slid into Wes.

They both groaned so loudly, Wes was sure he was going to be getting noise complaints.

“Shit,” Sam breathed out. He had never sounded so—Wes couldn’t describe it. Pure. Broken. Whole. He didn’t know—all he knew was that he felt the way that Sam sounded.

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes and Wes curled his fist into the sheets, desperately trying to hold on. He forced himself to still his body, trying so hard not to come right then and there from the pressure of Sam’s hot cock inside him.

After a few moments of raggedly breathing against one another, Sam started to move. The rise and fall of his hips against Wes’s skin consumed every nerve that Wes had. He felt strung out in a thousand different ways.

Sam clutched at Wes’s hip, propping himself up so he could look down at Wes’s face. When Wes managed to open his eyes long enough to look at his lover, Sam’s expression nearly had him coming on the spot.

He looked ruined but glorious—he looked ecstatic.

Wes thrust backwards into Sam’s hips. The movement forced Wes’s body to take in all of Sam and again, both men groaned loudly.

“You look so much better than I could have imagined,” Sam said in that low throaty voice that Wes could feel in his toes. They curled at the sound of it. “You look so good, Bright Eyes.”

Wes’s chest fluttered and something akin to pride bristled underneath his skin. He rocked back into Sam, his pace becoming erratic and sharp. Sam met each thrust with one of his own, their bodies separated only by the thin layer of sweat they both wore.

“You’re so good,” Sam repeated, his own eyes closing before he wrenched them open again. Wes watched the way his tongue peeked out of his mouth, wetting his dry bottom lip. He closed his eyes and let his head loll back, Adam’s apple bobbing as he fucked hard into Wes. “You’re so good at this, so eager. Fuck, fuck, Wesley, god, so good.”

The hammering of Wes’s heart was punctuated by a particularly good shift of Sam’s hips, hitting that spot inside him just right and—

Everything inside of him collapsed. For a brief moment, there was no him or Sam or life or world—there was nothing but a moment of bright, bright light and a star in the sky exploding a thousand times over. Wes, briefly, existed inside of the star. Through his haze in a sliver of the galaxy, he could hear Sam gasp out his name.

Wes came with a long shout and a desperate, pitiful, “Oh, Sam”.

When Wes floated back down to earth and into his body, he opened his eyes, locking them with Sam, whose expression looked so awed, Wes wondered if he’d seen the star, too.

When their eyes locked, Sam’s whole body locked after one last, hard thrust against Wes. His mouth parted silently and his eyes clenched shut, face pulling together as his body rode out the pleasure.

Wes watched in rapt attention until Sam’s body relaxed and his eyes reopened.

Where before there was only pupil, Wes could see the soft blue of Sam’s eyes now.

Sam pulled out slowly, wincing. Wes took a moment to stretch his body, testing the jello-like consistency of his legs and the ache in his muscles. He twisted and his back popped loudly.

He looked up at Sam who was climbing beneath the covers. Sam covered Wes, too, and dropped a kiss on his forehead.

“Mmm,” Wes hummed, content. Sam kissed him softly on the lips. Wes barely kissed back, too spent and exhausted. Sam pulled off after a second, a small laugh bubbling beneath his smile.

“Mmm indeed,” Sam agreed.

Wes put his head on Sam’s shoulder. Sam intertwined their fingers.

For a few minutes, they said nothing. There was a bubble around them, the same sweet consistency of that gossamer potential they’d had before. This time, though, it was stronger; it was formed from their lived potential, their present. It was warm and soft and Wes decided he was never going to leave it.

It seemed like Sam came to the same conclusion a moment later.

“I don’t ever want to leave,” Sam said, closing his eyes and snuggling into the blankets.

Wes thought for half a second before the desire in his chest beat out any thought in his head. “Move in with me.”

Sam’s eyes flew opened and he looked down at Wes with wide eyes. “What?”

“Move in with me. You’re kind of technically homeless..”

“I’m staying with Dad.”

“You like me more.”

“That’s true.” Sam swallowed. “Isn’t that—fast?”

“Maybe,” Wes agreed. “Or maybe it’s years late. Do you care?”

Sam’s lips twitched and his smile widened. “No.”

“Good.”

Sam closed his eyes again. “You sure you could put up with me?”

Wes laid back again, closing his own eyes. He could still see Sam’s smile beneath his eyelids. “I’m tougher than I look.”

Sam tightened his hold on Wes’s hand. They exchanged a glance before both closing their eyes again.

“We can talk about it more in the morning,” Wes said, his sleepiness breaking through the desire to keep Sam with him in a much more permanent basis. “I’m going to win.”

“You think?” Sam sounded amused but Wes didn’t open his eyes to check. “Also, we’re not on opposite sides.”

“I’m going to win,” Wes repeated.

“How do you figure?”

“Because,” Wes yawned before continuing. “This is your home.”

And before Wes fell asleep to dreams of lazy days on the beach, dry and warm in the sun, he thought he heard Sam agree. He didn’t fight sleep enough to check—he knew Sam would be there in the morning.

Wes fell asleep feeling perfectly like he was home.