I didn’t see Sam at all the next day, and I didn’t seek him out. I figured the night before had been a one-time thing, something done out of a temporary but overwhelming sensation. Maybe he’d even done it because he was angry at me, or because he hated me. Either way, I really didn’t feel like finding out. I spent another day eating peanut butter sandwiches and reading fanfiction. I opened my phone a few times, thinking about texting Damien, but I never did it. What was I supposed to say? That I’d had sex with Sam, and God only knew what was going to happen next? If I told him, there would be a barrage of questions that not only did I not want to answer, but I wasn’t even sure I could. Damien was a good friend, but he could be overprotective, and I hardly wanted to tell him I’d had unprotected sex with my biggest fan and then not even spoken to him afterward.

A part of me hoped I would at least see him that night. I showered, spent hours reading, and even flipped through the few available stations on the TV, but he didn’t return. I fell asleep far too late, still hoping to hear his footsteps or feel his body shifting onto the mattress.

The day after, I was a little surprised when I returned from my shower to find him sitting on the bed. “We’re, um, leaving tomorrow morning,” he told me. He was wearing a guilty expression, his shoulders hunched. “We should make it to Fantasticon by Thursday night, Friday morning at the latest. We’ll make your panel.”

“Great. I’ll, uh, tell Damien.” I brushed my still-wet hair back from my forehead. There were no chairs in the room, so I went and sat at the head of the bed, leaving him at the foot of it, putting as much distance between us as I could. I wanted to respect his space, especially considering I was sure he was regretting everything that happened. I was gearing myself up for a gentle let-down.

He cleared his throat. I couldn’t see his face, only the back of his head and his reddening neck. “Lance...”

Here it was. I took a deep breath, telling myself that whatever he said, it would be okay, that I could handle it, that I’d heard worse.

I wasn’t being very convincing, even to myself.

“About yesterday,” he continued, “I’m...I’m sorry.”

“No,” I interrupted. “Don’t be. It’s fine. I understand.”

“I’m not sure that you do.”

“I do.” I swallowed and found a lump forming in my throat, but I refused to think about it too much. I felt like I’d already cried more in the past week than I had in the past couple years, and given the level my depression had sunk to, that was quite a feat. “It’s fine, Sam. I know it was just a one-time thing, and you were aggravated and that you needed an outlet. It’s okay. You don’t have to apologize.”

He finally looked over his shoulder, frowning. “What? No. Jesus, Lance. That’s not what this is about at all.”

I blinked. “It isn’t?”

“No.” He crawled towards me. I fought the urge to jump off the bed, feeling paranoid that he was getting ready to hit me. “I wasn’t aggravated. Not with you, anyway. If I was aggravated with anyone, it was with myself.”

“No offense, but you started aggressively kissing me right after I told you how I fucked up your favorite book series,” I reminded him, pointing to the deep purple patches on my jaw and neck he’d left with his teeth. “It kind of seemed like you were at least a little bit miffed with me.”

He blushed bright red. “No, I wasn’t. And you didn’t ruin the books. I actually thought the idea was incredible. As in, I can’t wait to read it and write more fics about it and talk about it on forums. I think what you decided to do was amazing.”

“Okay,” I said slowly, “then I think you’re definitely going to need to explain what you’re apologizing for.”

He sighed a little, slightly huffy, but my words drew a little smile from him. “I just got so overwhelmed,” he explained. “I mean, you were sitting there crying and hating yourself while telling me the coolest shit I’d ever heard, and I just couldn’t understand it. You were calling yourself every name in the book and saying you deserved to be hated. I...I felt lost. I’m sitting in front of this man I’ve had a crush on for a long time, someone that I’ve really started to feel something for, and he’s acting like he’s worse than nothing. My heart was completely broken for you, and at the same time I wanted to beat the shit out of Paul, and I wanted to show you how perfect I think you are, and it all just...exploded. And I...I took advantage of you. You were at a low point, and I used that for my own gain. And I’m so, so sorry, Lance.” He went to grab my hand, then pulled away, ashamed. “You’re so much better than that. You’re worth so much more. I should never have done that to you.”

I felt my brain fizzling out.

“Hold on,” I said, raising a hand to stop his apologies. He stopped talking, looking absolutely miserable. “Wait. I think I’m misunderstanding you. Am I having a stroke? Oh, shit...Are you having a stroke? Do you smell toast? I’ll call 911.”

“What? No! How the hell did we get here? No.” He burst into helpless giggles. “I’m trying to tell you I’m sorry for getting so handsy with you—“

I snorted, cutting him off. “Handsy?! Okay, gramps.”

“Hey now!”

“’Hey now’ yourself! Did you not notice that I came too last night?”

“Yeah, but...” He rubbed at his neck. “I felt bad. You were going through some stuff, and instead of listening to you, I just like...ravished you.”

The word “ravished” shot a spike of hot arousal through me, but I tried to ignore it. “You weren’t taking advantage of me. I...honestly, I don’t even know where you would have gotten that from. And did you actually say you have a crush on me?”

“Well. Yeah.” He tugged at his earlobe, doing anything to avoid sitting still. “That’s not totally true.”

I should have known. “That’s okay.”

“No, it’s...” He sighed. “I feel bad, because I always had a celebrity crush on you, you know? And I didn’t think that I’d ever meet you, so it wasn’t a big deal. But then I did, and you turned out to be, like, a million times more amazing than I’d ever even dreamed of.”

My heart started to pound. This...was not the direction I’d anticipated. “Hold on. Are you saying you, like, like me? As...more than a friend?”

He smiled and grimaced all at once. “Yeah, kind of. Except I think it’s more than that. I’ve never actually felt like this before, you know? I’ve never cared about anyone like I care about you. When I see you, my heart just pounds like crazy, and my brain goes blank, and all I want is to hold you. Last night, when you were talking about Paul and all that, I kept thinking, ‘How does this man not see how incredible he is?’ I wanted to murder Paul for ever making you feel even slightly inferior, and I’ve never felt that, ever. I’ve never wanted to protect anyone like this, or kiss someone like this, or even just hang out with. I like you, I have fun with you, and...” He rubbed his eyes, keeping them closed against my potential responses. “If I had to guess, I think this is what love feels like. And I know that sounds insane, but—“

“It doesn’t sound insane.” My voice was shaking. “It doesn’t sound insane at all. Or maybe it does, I don’t know, but if it does, I really don’t give a fuck, because honestly, I feel the same way.”

Sam’s head snapped up like it had been held down with a rubber band. “Wait, seriously? You’re being serious?” His eyes widened in panic. “You have to be serious right now. If you’re messing with me...”

“I’m not.” I realized I was smiling. It had been a long time since I’d smiled so hard it hurt, but there it was. My face was aching and I probably looked completely out of my mind, but I didn’t care. I pulled Sam toward me hard, tossing him to the bed and crawling into his lap. He looked up at me with pure wonderment. “Sam, I’ve been feeling the same way. I mean, I felt like shit for it, I thought I was being weird or creepy, I thought I was obsessing, but...” I couldn’t think of anything to say. Instead, I pressed my lips to his, gentle but firm all at once, and he responded instantly.

This time, there was no hesitancy, but no rush, either. I pulled his shirt off and lavished him with kisses. I lapped at his nipples, kissed his navel, nuzzled the fine trail of hair between his jeans and his bellybutton with my nose. His hands didn’t seem to know where to lay, flitting between my hair, my shoulders, and my back. “Wait,” he breathed. “Wait.”

I stopped and looked up at him. He gently tugged me back up to face level, wrapping his arms around me. “I want to go slow,” he murmured, and it made my stomach explode in butterflies. I kissed him gently and whispered an assent against his lips.

And slow we went.

We stripped down and just let our hands drift. I explored his skin with my hands, kissed each of his freckles, and curled up into his arms. It felt good to be beside someone so warm, so firm, and so big. I felt safe, protected. Those gorgeous hands of his carded through my hair, and I sighed as they ran down the sides of my neck, all the way down to my hips. He kissed across my clavicles, lapping at the dips in my flesh. The room soon felt smaller, warmer, and filled with gentle moans. It seemed forever before I wrapped a hand around his cock, but he was already hard, with a bead of precum at the head.

I leaned down, my eyes on his, and I licked gently at the velvety tip. His head rolled back and he let out a long groan. I massaged it gently with my mouth, letting my tongue run lazily around the head, and before long, he was panting and tapping at my shoulder. “Can’t,” he moaned. “Going to cum if you keep going. Please.”

I pulled away. “Sorry.”

“Holy shit, don’t be.” He pulled me to his chest, growling into my mouth, our tongues finding each other and battling. Sam’s hands went down my back, found my ass, and groped, and I wilted against him.

After a quick look through the room, we found some lotion and hustled back to the bed. I dropped some into my palm and warmed it in my hands before rubbing it gently over the length of his thick cock. He thrusted up into my hand, groaning, and I smiled. “Be patient,” I said, and I kissed him softly.

I straddled his hips, and Sam rested his hands on my thighs. It had been good to let Sam hold me down and take control, but something had shifted. I wanted to do this slow, and I wanted to make it perfect. For once, I didn’t want it to just be good for someone else—I wanted to enjoy myself. I wanted us to experience that joy together.

I lowered myself onto his cock, and we sighed in ecstasy together as I sank down until his hips met my thighs. He was even deeper than he’d been before, and even though I was a little sore from our last romp together, I couldn’t think of anything I’d rather be doing.

I moved gently, slowly, pulling long moans and gasps out of him. His hand wrapped around my shaft and stroked lazily, and it wasn’t long before I was panting, putty in his hands.

His hips rose to meet mine gently, softly, as if constantly asking if I was okay and satisfied, but the answer was always yes. I ground down against him, my hands sliding up to his nipples and very gently started to rub. His grip on my thighs tightened, and I smirked at him. He gave me a breathy laugh. “You’re such a jerk,” he grumbled. “You’re not playing fair.”

“You don’t seem to mind.” I tightened myself around him, and his eyes rolled back. I groaned just from watching him. His reactions had me throbbing, heat pooling in my stomach. I was bouncing harder, faster, and I finally whispered, “I’m not sure how much longer I’ll last.”

In a second, I was flipped on my back. I let out a decidedly unsexy yelp of surprise, but Sam just laughed and started moving his hips languidly against mine, his whole body pressed to me, his chest sliding over mine. He nuzzled the side of my neck. “Let go whenever you need it, baby,” he whispered in my ear, and the feeling of his breath on my skin, his hand on my cock, and the persistent thrust of his cock in and out of me pushed me over the edge. I came, shuddering and wrapping my limbs around him, holding him to me tight. He moaned, and his thrusts became less even, less practiced. He’d been waiting for me to finish before allowing himself to get there.

I kissed just below his ear and ran my nails lightly over his back. “I love you too, Sam,” I murmured, and that was all it took before he was shooting inside me, shuddering against me and whimpering.

Afterward, we just held each other in bed, kissing and running our hands lightly over each other’s skin. “Did you mean that?” he asked sleepily, pushing my hair back from my forehead.

“Mean what?”

“You know. That you love me.”

I laid my head against his chest. I could hear his still-slowing heartbeat and I sighed, loving the sound of life in my ear. “Of course.”

He squeezed me gently. “Good. Because I don’t think I could let you go.”