Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Please."

The echoes of her plea rang louder than the clinking of his chains of self-control.

"Samara," he said softly, "I cannot give you what you ask of me, it goes against everything I stand for."

"Dammit Charles!" she exclaimed, "Can't you let go? Just this once?"

He swallowed hard as his fingers slid ever so slightly along her taut abdomen.  He withdrew his hand then, clenching it into a fist at his side.

"What if I propose a deal instead?" his confident persona returning, his chains of self-control re-settling into place.

"That would depend on the deal," she replied, leaning toward him.

"I will give you one kiss, if you, in turn, promise to go back to sleep."

"Hmmm," she made a big show of thinking it over, tapping her chin with her index finger, "It had better be one hell of a kiss."

He placed his right hand on her hip, pulling her closer, his other hand wrapping around the back of her neck and guiding her lips to his.  On contact, she felt the sparks from when they'd kissed earlier, though that seemed to pale in comparison to the present.  She buried her hands in his soft hair, deepening the kiss.  Charles felt surprise flush through him as Sam took control.  When he felt her tongue smoothing over his bottom lip, he parted his mouth to grant her access; but he pulled away when he felt her hands leave his hair and grip his own, attempting to move them to less innocent places.  "I believe that counts as one kiss" he stated.

"Spoilsport," she pouted.

"Now, for your end of the bargain," he prompted, looking toward the doorway.

In response, she walked around his bed and climbed into it, beneath the covers.

"And precisely what is it that you think you're doing, Miss Young?" he asked, eyebrow raised.

"We never said where I'd sleep, just that I would," she replied cheekily.

Charles pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long-suffering sigh, though couldn't help feeling somewhat proud of her 'negotiating' skills, especially in such a state.

"Fine," he said simply.

He swung his legs back up and under the duvet, ensuring he was above the top sheet so as to keep at least some kind of barrier between them.  He lay on his back, closing his eyes when he thought he heard Sam's deep breathing beside him.

"Goodnight, Samara," he said softly.

He jumped slightly when he felt the bed dip beside him and her warmth pressed against his side, palm on his chest.

"G'night Cheerls."

Then she was truly asleep and Charles felt relief, he had managed to keep her dignity and his propriety intact.  He placed his hand on top of hers and slowly drifted off into slumber.

When Sam awoke, the first thing she registered was a slight pounding in her head, and something poking her backside.  Next was the feel of arms wrapped around her and the faint scent of cologne.  Lastly, was the realization that she was not in her own bed.  She opened her eyes groggily and looked around as best she could.  A glimpse of platinum blond hair and the recognition of Charles' cologne eased her panic slightly....until 'I'M IN CHARLES' BED?' she mentally exclaimed, desperately trying to piece together the night before.  Then it all hit her like a ton of bricks.

'I got drunk, oh god, how? And then Charles...I think I said something about skinnydipping, then he brought me here and I...I propositioned him. UGH, I'm such an idiot! There's no way he'll want anything to do with me now.'

Before the self-deprecation could continue, her brain reminded her of the ‘something’ against her backside.  She could feel Charles’ arms wrapped firmly around her, his breath on her neck, his chest pressed warmly against her back, and then....she wiggled experimentally and instantly blushed so hard she thought she'd burst some blood vessels when she realized what exactly was poking into her.  She took several slow, deep breaths to try and prevent a blush-splosion like when she'd unbuttoned his shirt to see his bruises.  Then, before she could think better of it, she shifted against him slightly, purposely brushing against his...'I can't even bring myself to think the word, that's so pathetic' she chastised herself internally. 

Nevertheless...she shifted again, curious to see what he would do.  He moaned in his sleep, a sound so delightful, Sam needed to hear it again.  She did her best to limit her movement as she rubbed against him once more, fully cognizant of the very thin layers of fabric between them.  She heard her new favourite sound once more, jumping slightly when he pulled her closer, his hips bucking against her.  At this point, she was unsure if he was actually sleeping, or just pretending in order to avoid confrontation.  For some reason, the thought of it being the latter frustrated her to no end.  In a bold move, she arched her back, pressing herself firmly into him, feeling more than just the outline of his obvious arousal.  Suddenly, she was flipped onto her stomach, and Charles was laying flush along her back, arms propped on either side of her.

"So you are trying to goad me," he growled, voice low and husky in her ear.

"I-I thought you were asleep," she offered lamely.

"You are playing a dangerous game, Bunty," his breath ghosted along the shell of her ear.

"I usually win the games I play," she replied, her confidence growing slightly.

"You've yet to play with me," he rolled his hips against hers as he said the word 'play', drawing a deep crimson into her cheeks.

"Charles, I-" she started, but was cut off when, with lightning speed, he flipped her onto her back.  He was saying something, but she didn't hear a word as the sudden change in position had triggered her already sensitive stomach.  She quickly brought a hand to her mouth and the panic in her eyes told Charles he needed to let her bolt.  He gave her enough space to leap off the bed and run to the bathroom.

Charles sat on the edge of the bed and pinched the bridge of his nose, "What are you doing? Twpsyn!" he scolded himself.

He ran a hand through his hair and got up to fill a glass of water for Sam, grabbing one of his shirts and a pair of pajama bottoms on the way.  He was relieved when he didn't hear any sick noises as he approached, knocking on the door.

"Come in," she called weakly.

He opened the door to see her sitting on the floor, leaning against the bathtub.

"Are you alright?" he asked, handing her the water and sitting on the floor beside her, placing the clothes at her feet.

"False alarm...for now," she replied, taking a few sips.

"I'm sorry, Samara."

"For what? As far as I can remember, this was my fault."

"I don't think that's entirely true," sighed Charles.

"What exactly happened last night?" Samara asked.

"When I came back inside from the Ellesmere call, you were already quite inebriated.  You mentioned something about an Irish coffee?"

Sam furrowed her brow in concentration, thinking back to the last moment she remembered, "Y-yes...I ordered a coffee because I was feeling tired.  The waitress suggested the Irish coffee...I-I thought it was just a coffee that was made in Ireland..."

"Oh, Samara," he chuckled lightly, patting her knee, "Not quite.  Irish coffee belongs to a group of beverages called 'specialty coffees', known for containing alcohol."

"Ah," she replied, "Well I suppose I know that now."

"Indeed," smiled Charles, "Though I can't help but think it was my fault...had I not stepped out to take that call, I would have been there to prevent you from ordering that drink."

"You can't watch me all the time Charles," she placed her hand on top of his, "Besides, the waitress probably should have asked me for ID, since it was an alcoholic drink."
"Yes, considering you do look like a 12-year-old," he teased.

Sam let out a laugh, then her face turned serious and she tilted her head so it was resting on his shoulder, "I'm sorry I caused you so much trouble last night, Charles," her voice was whisper quiet, "It can't have been fun dealing with me like that."

"Firstly," he stated, holding up his index finger, "You are worth the trouble, Bunty," she blushed at that, listening as he held up his middle finger beside his index, "And secondly, you really weren't all that bad, aside from almost getting me murdered by your brother, that is."

"OH GOD, Jay was there??" she exclaimed, burying her face in her hands.

"He was at the same restaurant, with Ruth," Charles explained, "He didn't see you though, much to my relief."

"Thank goodness," she exhaled, then remembered a previous thought, "Did...did I say something about skinnydipping?"

"Heh," he rubbed the back of his neck, "I believe your words were 'Lemme skinny dip in those ocean eyes of yours'."

"Excuse me?!" she blurted out, "I'm so sorry Charles."

"It was rather endearing, actually," he smiled, "Just like that blush on your cheeks now."

She blushed harder.

"And I must say, Samara, you have a more than decent singing voice," he continued.

"I...I sang?"

"Yes, your rendition of ‘Apple Bottom Jeans’ was hauntingly beautiful," he teased.

"Umm," she had no words.

"It rather made up for the tiny Bunty-sized handprint that's now likely permanently imprinted on my rear."

"WHAT?" she squawked

"You really are an adorable drunk," he commented, chuckling at her reactions.

"See this is why I don't drink," she moaned, "Alcohol hits me WAY too hard."

"Fair enough," nodded Charles, "You did go zero to 180 in a matter of moments."

"I.....think I.....propositioned you?" she asked fearfully, looking up at him.

"I didn't acquiesce," he said firmly, holding eye contact.

"I didn't think you had, you always make me feel safe, Charles,” she slid her hand into his, “Though I'm sorry for putting you in that position."

"Well, Bunty, I'm certain there will come a time when there are plenty of positions we-"

His attempt at teasing was cut off as Sam focused on one word, "Time! What time is it?" 

"About 8:30 in the morning," he replied, checking the clock.

"Oh noooo, I missed the raid!" she groaned, dragging her hands down her face.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I was supposed to go on a raid with my guild last night for..." she trailed off as she saw Charles' expression.

"It's this game we-"

“World of Warquest."

"Yeah, h-how did you..?"

"I do listen when you speak, you know."

"Oh, right," she smiled inwardly, "Well they're probably wondering where I am right now, Angela's likely tearing up the city looking for me," she said, grabbing the shirt and pants from the floor then walking out.  She stopped in the doorway, turning to him and inquiring sheepishly, "Where is the room you put me in last night?"

"You mean the one you refused to sleep in?" he raised an eyebrow.

Sam blushed.

"Follow me," smirked Charles, brushing past her as he moved to descend the stairs from his bedroom.

She followed him to the guest room and picked up her phone.  It was low battery, but still alive, and blowing up with messages, notifications, texts, and missed calls, the majority of which boiled down to "SAMARA YOUNG YOU HAD BETTER ANSWER YOUR PHONE RIGHT NOW OR ELSE I'M GOING ON A RAMPAGE…<3 Angela.”

"I'll leave you alone to make your calls," Charles tilted his head toward her before leaving.  He paused in the doorway to ask "How do you like your eggs?"

"Umm, however you like them," she had been surprised by his question.

"Alright," he nodded and headed to the kitchen.

Sam pulled on the pajama pants, and loosely threw his shirt on.  She then dialled Angela first, knowing it might save someone's property.  Her friend picked up on the first ring, "SAM, ARE YOU OK??!"

"H-hi Angela," she stammered, "Yes, I'm fine."

"Where were you last night? We were all so worried when you didn't show up and you weren't answering your phone or anything.  I almost called your dad!"

"Oh god, you didn't though, right?" she asked, wincing.

"No, but next time I might."

"I'm so sorry to have worried you guys," Sam sighed, "I went for dinner with Charles, and then-"

"CHARLES?! That sketchy English guy from your office??"

"H-he's Welsh, actually," Sam commented, then "Yes, he took me to dinner and then we...I..."

Angela's voice suddenly went low and incredibly quiet, "Did he touch you?"

"No! Angela, God no! NOTHING like that," Sam almost shouted.  She took a breath to calm herself and then relayed the events from the night before (minus the proposition and sleeping in his bed part).

"You never could hold your alcohol," Angela commented teasingly, then softly, "As long as you're okay.  You know you can tell me if you're not?"

"I know Angela," Sam smiled, "And I absolutely would, but I'm safe with Charles."

"If you say so," she could practically hear Angela's shrug, "I'll let the others know that you're okay.  Olivia may or may not have instructed Edgar to storm all of the bus stops in the city..."

"Of course she did," sighed Sam, "Well tell them I'm sorry too, and I'll make it up at the next raid!"

"Love you, babe," said Angela.

"Love you too," Sam replied then hung up the phone.

She scrolled through her text messages and answered them all before placing her phone in the pocket of the shirt she had on, and getting up to wander to the kitchen.  The smell of eggs and bacon wafted toward her and she walked in to see Charles cooking, a black apron draped over his shoulders, and a look of concentration on his face.  He held a small dish overtop of a pot of boiling water, tipping it slowly so the contents slid into the steaming liquid.  Sam continued watching him as she took a seat at the kitchen bar, mesmerized by the deliberate, elegant movements of his long, slender fingers.  Her mind drifted to how those talented fingers might feel on certain parts of her body, then startled suddenly when Charles interrupted her lewd thoughts with "I was in the mood for poached eggs this morning, I hope you don't mind," accompanied by a dazzling smile.  Sam cleared her throat, embarrassed, cheeks bright red, and replied, "Poached is fine."

He scooped the eggs onto 2 prepared plates, and brought them to his dining table beside the kitchen, joining a plate of bacon, a bowl of fresh fruit, a container of yogurt, and a small basket of toast.

"How do you like your coffee?" he asked, pulling two mugs down from a cupboard above his steaming coffeemaker.

"Cream and sugar, please," she responded, a bit in awe of the spread, "You did all this while I was on the phone?"

"It's merely breakfast," he shrugged, placing her coffee by one of the plates.  He pulled out the chair there, and gestured toward it, "Care to join me?"

"Oh! Of course," she smiled, getting up from the stool and sitting down as he pushed her chair in.

They sat quietly in each other's company as they ate, Sam both wanting to bring up their kiss and also the previous night, though hesitant to do so; Charles with his internal thoughts focussed mainly on her lips closing around her fork, and the small noises of delight that issued from her as she ate, wondering exactly how he could elicit such sounds, then berating himself for it.  He became so lost in thought, he almost didn't hear her speaking.

"Your apartment is beautiful," Sam commented, looking around as she chewed, "And so much natural light!"

"I quite like it," he smiled, warmed by her reaction.

Sam hummed lightly, then placed some fruit on her plate with a dollop of yogurt.  Charles' gaze was magnetized to her as she picked up a strawberry and took a bite.  Some of the juice dripped down her chin, trickling all the way to between her breasts, his eyes following its path.  Sam looked down at the trail of pink liquid, intending to ask Charles for a napkin, but when she looked up, his expression stopped her cold.  His look of intensity mirrored the hunger she'd seen when he'd kissed her hand in the office the previous day. Was it really only yesterday? she thought.  His pupils dilated and he repeatedly reached up as if to adjust his tie, but seemed to realize he wasn't wearing one.  In a split second, he was up and rounding the table.  Sam quickly swallowed her bite of fruit and stood, nearly knocking over her chair.  He stepped in front of her and she pressed her hands to his chest as, without warning, he bent down, grabbed her legs just behind the knees, and lifted her onto the dining table with seemingly no effort.  Her fingers buried themselves in his soft hair as he dipped his head, tracing the line of strawberry juice with his tongue, from her cleavage, up her neck, to her chin, and ending with a searing kiss that Sam thought just might burn through her.  He stood between her legs and pulled her against him, hand at the small of her back, deepening the kiss.  Her hands, meanwhile, had slowly slid down the silk of his shirt, lifting the hem up slightly, itching to feel his skin.  Her fingers skimmed across his well-toned stomach, drawing a sharp inhale from him.  She found she very much liked getting a reaction out of him, as evidenced by the growing dampness between her legs.  She tilted her head slightly and gently grabbed his bottom lip between her teeth, biting lightly as she pulled back.  The sound he made in response shot right through to her core, and she felt his tongue running lightly along her top lip.  She opened her mouth to him and became completely lost to his embrace. 

Charles’ fingers glided along the bare skin of her shoulder, leaving fire in their wake as they slowly pushed down the sleeve of his shirt from her arm.  He broke their kiss to place a trail of licks, nips, and kisses along her neck, revelling in her gasps.  She instinctually wrapped her legs around his hips and he ground against her, drawing moans from both of them.  Pajama fabric left very little to her incredibly overactive imagination as she felt the size of him rub against her already burning nethers, mind bolting immediately to how he would feel inside of her.   He was just in the process of sliding off her other sleeve, when a loud, jarring tune rattled both of them from their lust-induced haze.  Sam blinked a few times then looked down to the phone in her shirt pocket as it cheerily rang away.  She pulled it out, saw the caller ID, and her eyes snapped up to Charles', "It's my dad," his eyes widened in mild alarm, "He's video calling."

"Cachu," he swore, swiftly tugging the shirt back onto her shoulders and straightening her hair.

"W-what should I do?" she asked, panicked.

Charles' gaze flew around the room, locking onto the large patio windows behind Sam, "Quick, onto the terrace," he said hurriedly, stepping back and offering her his hand, "You can tell him you're outside."

"Good idea," she nodded, grasping his hand as he helped her down from the table.

Her phone stopped ringing and went to voicemail, but she knew he would call again.  Sure enough, as soon as she stepped out onto Charles' balcony, her phone went off once more.

"Here goes nothing," she murmured, accepting the call, being sure she had the open air behind her and not Charles' building, "Hi Dad!"

"Hello Pumpkin!" her father seemed slightly suspicious, "How come you didn't answer the first time? Trying to ignore your dear old Dad?"

"No, Dad," she rolled her eyes, "I didn't notice it ring the first time."

"Are you outside, dearest?" he asked, looking so intensely into his phone camera, she thought he might just pop through.

"Yes, I was taking Bowser for a walk," she lied, hoping not to be too obvious.

"Oh, my grandson!" he exclaimed, "Let me see his sweet little face!"

Sam fought extra hard to school her features, letting only a small smile through, "Ah, he's run off with a few dogs actually, I'm in the process of catching up to him."

"That cheeky little boy," her dad chuckled, then "Your mother and I are loving it here in Hawaii..."

Charles watched Sam from inside his apartment, able to hear the conversation through the slightly open window.  He sighed with relief at knowing her dad seemed to have bought the outside thing, he wasn't particularly in the mood to have his life end that day.  He ran a hand through his hair, the other reaching into his pocket.  It wasn't in there, but he was feeling for the gold chain holding his old wedding band out of habit, needing to draw from it the fortitude to prevent what had just occurred between him and Samara from going any further.

Keep it in your pants, Jones! he admonished himself.  You haven't even had a chance to finish discussing things properly, damn that Irish coffee.  His eyes whipped up as he heard the question they hadn't thought of boom out of the phone.

"Pumpkin, whose shirt is that? It looks like a man's," Charles could practically hear his employer's knuckles cracking.

He saw Sam look briefly panicked, then "Oh it was just in the back of my closet.  I needed to walk Bowser, but I'm out of clean shirts since it's laundry day.  I think it actually used to be one of yours."

Charles swelled with pride at Sam's ability to defuse a potential meltdown...and homicide.

"Ah, that explains why you're swimming in it!" her dad exclaimed.

Charles didn't know how much more of this he could take, but his anxiety was soothed when he heard Samantha's voice from Sam's phone, telling Samuel to leave Sam her Saturday.  She hung up shortly after that and walked back into the apartment, closing the window behind her.

"Well that was only mildly terrifying," she muttered.

"Crisis averted though, I'd say," he smiled at her.

Sam returned the smile then looked at the floor, seemingly gathering her courage before stepping closer to him, uttering "So should we-"  

She was stopped when he placed a finger gently on her lips, confusion crossing her features.

"Samara," he exhaled, "Our dynamic has changed significantly over the past two days, and I think we need to be smart about how we proceed."

She blinked a few times, but remained silent, willing to finish hearing him out.

"We've shared some…intimate moments," he saw her cheeks redden at that, "And as you recall, we did have a discussion last night about where exactly this may lead."

"You never really did give me an answer about teaching me," she pointed out.

This time it was Charles' turn to blush, clearing his throat, "And I intend to think on that fully before I give you an answer."

"I guess that's fair," she sighed, eyes downcast.

"And so for now," he said softly, grasping her chin and tilting her head up so their eyes could meet, "I will take you back to your place, as I'm certain if you stay here much longer, I won't get any thinking done at all...not with my head anyways."

Sam choked slightly at that, then reached up to grasp his hand gently with both of hers, noting they could both fit in his one palm, "When will I know your decision? You already know my thoughts on this."

"Monday? I'll take you out for lunch?" he suggested, giving her hands a light squeeze.

"Alright," she agreed.

They stayed in that position, eyes locked, neither willing to break it, neither willing to push it farther.  Finally, Charles sighed and he relinquished his hold on her, running a hand through his hair.  "Grab your things, Bunty.  I'll dress and then take you home."

Sam nodded once then walked to the bedroom she'd been meant to stay in, opting to stay in Charles' clothes rather than change into her own.  Charles went up the stairs to his room, removing his pajamas and pulling on skinny jeans and a light, black cashmere sweater.  He slipped his wedding band into the right-hand pocket of his pants, keeping it as a stark reminder to proceed with caution.  He allowed himself a brief moment to recall the feel of Sam beside him, under him, against him, how the taste of strawberry mixed with her skin had been an ambrosia he didn't think he could ever forget.  Before he lost himself entirely to imagination, he shook himself and returned to the lower floor, just as Sam left her room and descended the stairs.

"Shall we?" he asked, offering her his arm, noticing she still wore his clothes.

She looped her hand into the crook of his elbow and together they exited the apartment and rode the elevator down to his car.  Charles couldn't resist a bit of teasing, saying "Last night was the first night I realized the acoustics in here are actually somewhat decent."

"Ugh!" she groaned, bringing her palm to her face.

"Also in this elevator, I learned that swans can be gay, imagine that," he adored the rouge tinge he could bring to her cheeks so easily.

"I…uh…"

"You were quite moved by that fact, as I recall."

"…I cried, didn't I."

"I think 'sobbed uncontrollably' more aptly describes it."

"Funny," she said, tone a mixture of frosty and playful, "I would have thought an elevator ride with you would have me sobbing for different reasons."

Her delivery was punctuated by the ding of the elevator doors as they opened onto the garage level.  Sam, smug smirk on her face, exited the elevator first, looking back to see Charles, eyes slightly wide, posture rigid.  She decided to have just a little bit more fun, "Well, Mister Jones, are you going to give me a ride? Or do I need to take care of myself."

The slight choking sound from him and the way he tugged at his collar had Sam feeling somewhat giddy, knowing she had given as good as she'd gotten.  She turned and walked towards his car, hearing his footsteps grow closer as he caught up with her.  Charles wanted, more than anything, to pin her against the side of his car and take her right there and then, but to do so would open something he was not yet ready to welcome.  He tamped the desire down, fingers brushing against the ring in his pocket, and walked around to open the passenger door for her, as usual.  Once she was seated, he closed the door and got into the driver's side.  They held pleasant conversation, mostly about work, a safe topic, and Bowser, as Charles drove them to Sam's building.  When he pulled up outside, Sam looked to the building, then to Charles, obviously hesitant to leave.  He sensed what she was feeling, unable to ignore a feeling of warmth at her transparency with him, and turned in his seat to face her.

"I know you want me to come inside, Samara," he stated - while Sam's mind immediately went to her dream of Karma saying those exact words - "And believe me, when I do..." he leaned over so that his cheek was against hers, and he could whisper in her ear, "It will be well worth the wait."

He could feel the shiver that ran through her, a small sense of pride at his being able to get that reaction from her.  He was shocked, however, at the boldness which encompassed her next words, murmured into his own ear, "I just hope you don't make me wait too long, Mister Jones, or I might need to take things into my own hands."

And with that, she grabbed her belongings and hopped out of the car, turning to give him a small wave before walking into her building.  Charles stared after her until she was out of sight, then reached down to adjust himself, as his pants had suddenly grown quite tight.

"Iesu mawr," he muttered, thumping his head on the steering wheel.

Sam rode her confidence high all the way to her apartment, greeted at her door by the enthusiastic "Ahp ahp!" of her beloved pooch.

"Hey Bowser!" she called, crouching down to scratch him behind the ears, "I'm sorry I was away so long.  Things got a bit...complicated."

She placed her things on the table and filled Bowser's food and water bowls, watching him messily chow down on the kibble he didn't manage to spill out of the dish.  She absent-mindedly played with her phone, thoughts churning.  Well if teasing is his game, and I already know how he feels about certain outfits, maybe it's time for some payback.  She then unlocked her phone and scrolled through her text conversations until she found the one she was looking for.  She swiped right on the name and waited until the person on the other side picked up.  When she heard the familiar, "Hey kiddo, what's up?"

Sam responded with "Hi Monica, I was kind of hoping you might be free to do some shopping with me?"

Chapter Text

After hours of being dragged through high-end stores carrying fashions Sam wouldn't have even fathomed to exist, she was exhausted.  Her afternoon with Monica had been amazing, albeit a bit heartbreaking; she had opened up to Sam about her break-up with Marshall, and Sam had been able to see just how much she was struggling with it.  She was glad she had contacted Monica, even if only for the sake of her new friend's well-being.  Monica had jumped at the chance to help Sam find some subtly – and not so subtly - sexy outfits, especially after she told her what had happened with Charles.  She kept only a few of the details to herself, as those were just for her.  She made a mental note to check in with Monica again soon; aside from the pink-haired beauty wanting to know how things went with Charles, Sam recognized when someone needed a friend, and she wanted to be there for her.  She got up from her chair and worked out a few kinks in her shoulders, deciding to relax with some popcorn and a movie, and Bowser of course.  She changed into comfy pajamas, made the popcorn, and settled on the couch with a blanket, her trusty little steed hopping up and tucking into her side, mooching for some kernels.  She switched on the movie and sat back, perfectly content in the moment.

Charles, on the other hand, was certainly not content.  In fact, he was the exact opposite; high-strung, tense, and angry at himself for it.  He'd spent the rest of his day running errands, followed by a teaching session at the fencing club.  Luckily, he had not run into Eva there, as he would most certainly not have had the patience to deal with her.  When he'd finally gotten home, he'd dropped his fencing duffel bag on the floor and poured himself a brandy.  He'd tried distracting himself with answering emails, it didn't work.  He tried focussing his attention on a movie, it didn't work - especially at a certain steamy scene.  He even tried playing a virtual escape room - which he failed miserably - but nothing seemed to be able to derail his thoughts from a particular brunette.  He frustratedly tugged at his hair, then decided to just give up and go to sleep.  Once in his pajamas, he settled underneath the duvet and closed his eyes....mistake.  All he could see were her expressive eyes, her breasts glistening with strawberry juice, her hourglass figure, the sounds he'd drawn from her earlier playing the soundtrack to this taboo tableau.  He let out a growl and got up, tearing off his pajamas and hopping into the shower, making the water as cold as he could stand.  It was to no avail.  The heat of his thoughts regarding Sam seemed to make the shower water steam on contact with his skin, regardless of its frigidity.  He sighed in resignation and turned the temperature up to a more comfortable level.  He wasn't generally one for self-gratification, having had partners he could call on for such needs.  But tonight, he couldn't even bring himself to think about another woman, let alone call one of them, and so he reached down and gripped himself, having been hard for who knows how long, and began stroking slowly, playing a fantasy out in his mind:

Sam stood naked in front of him, the blush on her cheeks carrying all the way along her normally alabaster skin, now rosy with a heated flush.  He took her in his arms and slowly kissed along her shoulder, her neck, nipping her earlobe; recalling the taste of her skin from earlier.  He brought their lips together in a deep kiss, tongues meeting, hands exploring.  In the spur of the moment, he spun her and held her in front of him, one hand splayed across her abdomen.  With the index finger of his other hand, he slowly drew a line down along her spine, continuing through the cleft of her shapely buttocks, and dragging it along her slit.  He heard her gasp as he massaged her clit gently with his fingers, and inserted his thumb inside of her.  If he hadn't been rock hard already, it would have been instantaneous upon noting how wet she was for him; and he'd only just begun.  His other hand migrated upward from her abdomen to grasp her breast and he lightly pinched her nipple, rolling it between his finger and thumb, drawing a breathy 'Charles' from her.  He could feel himself growing close already, knowing the next part would likely do him in. 

He placed his hand between her shoulder blades and gently pushed until she was bent over in front of him.  He lined himself up and slowly entered her, feeling the hot, wet tightness encompassing him, and then he plunged in to the hilt.  She let out a moan as he began moving, reaching around her to rub patterns across her taut, small bundle of nerves, relishing in her moans as he started thrusting in earnest.  Very quickly, he heard her almost scream his name and felt her contracting around him; it was enough to push him over as well, her name escaping his lips as an exhale, into the clouds of steam around him, his release clinging to his hand as he held himself up against the wall. 

He took a few breaths to center himself then rinsed off, noting that while he still couldn't get her out of his head, the pounding need had lessened somewhat, likely enough for him to sleep.  Having the energy only to slip on his silk bottoms, he fell onto the bed and was soon greeting the darkness of slumber.

Sam was at Charles' door, finding herself already knocking, despite not remembering how she got there. He answered the door on the third knock, his brow furrowed in confusion, "Samara? What are you doing here so late?"
Her answer slipped out of her mouth of its own volition, "I came to finish what you started."

She launched at him, kissing him fiercely as he wrapped his arms around her, returning it with fervor.  He kicked the door shut with his foot and pressed her up against it.  In the midst of her biting his lower lip, and him running his fingers along her collarbones, their clothes had disappeared.  She realized this, not wanting to question it, and traced her hand down his abdomen to his cock, to which he responded by gripping her ass.  She squeezed him lightly and began to slide her hand up and down his shaft.  He dipped his head down and took one of her nipples in his mouth, flicking it with his tongue.  He then shifted one hand around the curve of her rear cheek, and traced all the way to her clit, rubbing it with his thumb using varying pressures as he inserted two fingers into her.  Her breathing grew ragged as he brought her closer; he seemed to sense this, so he quickly pushed her hand away and brought himself down to one knee in front of her.  He lifted her leg to rest over his shoulder, her hands finding purchase within his blond tresses.  She watched him as he dragged his tongue along her opening, circling around her clit at the end of its path.  She gasped as he combined his incredibly talented tongue with his equally talented, and long, fingers pumping in and out in a delectable cadence.  Her senses were overwhelmed by him and what he was doing to her, and she exclaimed "Charles!" just as her world exploded into a white hot climax. 

Sam sat up suddenly as she thudded to the floor of her living room, tangled in the blanket.  She was soaked in sweat and felt a different kind of wetness between her legs, her breathing a bit ragged.

"Wow," she said aloud to the room.

"Ahp!" answered Bowser, having been eyeing his owner with concern from under the table.

"Sorry boy, I didn't mean to scare you," she smiled sheepishly as she untwisted the fabric from around her legs.

She picked up the knocked over popcorn bowl, the remnants having long been Hoover'd up by a certain black and white mini scoundrel, and placed it on the counter.  After a quick shower and goodnight to Bowser, she climbed into bed, only one thought being prominent in her mind through it all:  I wonder if it would be like that with the real life Charles, before drifting off to sleep.

When Charles awoke, he found he was still plagued with thoughts of Sam, but felt perhaps he could get a handle on them this time.  He ate a quick breakfast, dressed, and opted to go into the office.  He knew it would likely be empty, and more capable of holding his focus away from things like his bed, where the second pillow still smelled of her, or the dining table where he'd just about lost himself in her.  Locking the door behind him, he descended the floors of his building in the elevator, unable to shake the echoes of her teasing as they bounced off the walls at him.  He pinched the bridge of his nose and counted to ten, exercising deep controlled breaths as he hopped in his car and made the drive to Young Technologies.  He went straight to his office and started dealing with some leftover paperwork and emails that had already piled up over the weekend.

After a couple of hours of, surprisingly complete, distraction, he got up to make himself a coffee.  On stepping out of his office, he heard the click of the main door, and was shocked to see Umed walk in.  Umed, in turn, froze upon seeing Charles, the two eyeing each other somewhat uneasily before Charles broke the strange silence.
"Hello Umed, what brings you here?"

"I had a few things to tweak with data entry," the shorter man replied, "And I figured I'd rather come in today than stay late tomorrow."

"Ah," nodded Charles, "Well, don't let me keep y-"
"Why are you here?" Umed's query threw Charles slightly as it immediately brought to mind what he'd been trying to block out.
"I, er, had some work I needed to get done before tomorrow," he said unconvincingly.
"Don't you usually work from home in that case?" Umed's eyebrow was raised.

"I...I was having trouble focussing at home," Charles spoke quickly, the words almost running together.
Umed noted the uncharacteristic nervousness in the Welshman and took a few steps toward him, already figuring out what was on the blond's mind, "Because of a certain brunette?"

Charles' eyes snapped up to Umed's, unsure if he was relieved or dismayed by the man's perceptiveness, "What? Of course not!" even to him, his indignation sounded forced.

"Don't worry," Umed held up his hands, "I won't tell anyone. While I may call you a towhead and give you a hard time, Charles, I've been becoming kind of invested in you and Sam.  I see you two together, how you look at each other.  I ship it."

"Umed," his voice almost broke, "I...legitimately don't know what to say."
"Well how about we sit," Umed gestured to the chair at his own desk, pulling up a second, "and you tell me what has you looking like you've forgotten what sleep is."

Charles mentally weighed the risks and benefits of confiding in Umed.  On the one hand, if word of his and Sam's interactions got out, not only would he likely be fired, but also very dead.  But Umed had never given Charles any reason to doubt his capability for discretion.  Plus on the other hand, Charles had yet to really make any friends since his big move, and he found himself suddenly overcome with the overwhelming need to unburden some of his chaotic thoughts, in the hopes of bringing some order to his mind.  He let out a defeated sigh, "Alright, allow me to get us some coffee first."
"Sounds perfect," Umed nodded.

Once they were seated, coffees sipped, Charles' foot tapping, and Umed waiting patiently, the blond started talking.  "I never expected it."

"One never does, or so I'm told.
"She came out of nowhere," Charles stroked his chin, crossing his legs, "Like an abrupt storm, she swept away my preconceived notions regarding women and relationships."
"So, you want to be with her?"
"Not...not in the sense that you mean...I think," Charles ran a hand through his hair, frustrated, "Everything was so simple before her.  Any intimacy I participated in was held at arm's length, it was a straightforward exchange, black and white."
"Ew," commented Umed.
"But then she brings in these astonishing shades of grey, and I found myself caught up before I could step back.  With anyone else, I would sever ties if I felt their emotions were becoming too involved.  But with her...I've already allowed for more than anyone since..." he trailed off, unable even to say the name that cast him further into darkness without fail.

"Gwen," breathed Umed.
Charles nodded, meeting Umed's eyes, "To be utterly and completely honest with you, Umed, I'm terrified.  I don't deserve her.  I am not worthy of the affection she seems to hold for me, and I worry that I will ruin her.  That the shadows I often remain immersed within will drag her down into the depths with me.  I cannot have that."

"You're in deep, my friend," said Umed sipping his coffee.

"Tell me about it," Charles exhaled, then fell silent.

Umed took this as a cue to wrap up the conversation, "Well from me to you, Jones, I think you should give her a chance before you push her away.  You might be surprised."
"But whether it will be a good surprise or a bad one remains to be seen," the blond muttered darkly.

"Chin up guv'nah!" Umed cheered in a horrible imitation of a British accent, "Just...don't punish yourself for wanting something, especially when it might be something good."
"I suppose she would be worth the risk," Charles sighed, then "I appreciate this Umed."
"Seems like you needed a friend," the dark-haired man replied.

"Needless to say, this needs to remain between us."
Umed mimicked locking his mouth shut and throwing away the key, "Don't worry Charles, I know what Mr. Young is like, your secret is safe with me."

"Thank you," Charles smiled lightly.

Umed responded by tilting his mug toward Charles in a 'cheers-ing' motion, then stood and said, "Now, I think you should head home Jones, do something relaxing."

"I am inclined to agree with you, Umed."

Charles stood, and went to the kitchen to wash his mug.  He then gathered his things and headed for the door.

"If you ever need to talk again, you know how to find me," Umed called after him.
"That I do," replied Charles, "Don't work too hard."

"I never do," joked Umed.

"Yes, I know," quipped Charles as he swept through the door.

He wasn't entirely sure how to feel about his conversation with Umed, but he was somewhat certain it was something akin to getting a weight off his chest.  Just after he got into his car, his phone buzzed and he checked it, smiling to himself as he saw the message, 'Notification from Escape Manor:  Hello Mr. Jones, we have a new escape room we would like you to beta.  Are you free this afternoon?'

He answered in the affirmative and made his way toward the Manor.

Sam woke late that morning, having had a somewhat restless sleep.  She stretched her arms up over her head, and checked the clock, noting it was about 11:30 am.  As she lay beneath the duvet, trying to muster the willpower to leave such a comfortable cocoon, she recalled her dream from the previous night, and blushed immediately.  Her fingers brushed her lips lightly as she recalled how his kiss had felt in the dream, remembering the fire he awoke within her, merely with the touch of his skin.  She could feel herself getting worked up again, and that was enough to get her out of bed to get dressed and make breakfast; something to distract her mind from wandering into such dangerous territory.  After a bowl of cereal, she was debating taking Bowser for a walk or going to the Daily Grind, when she heard a muted crash coming from across the hall.
Marshall, she thought with some alarm, grabbing the key he'd once loaned her and practically leaping to his apartment.  She knocked, her concern for his well-being blocking other emotions out as she called his name, "Marshall? Marshall are you ok?"
She heard nothing but silence, so unlocked the door quickly and entered, continuing to call his name.  Though he didn't answer, she found him in the kitchen.  He was standing as if frozen, one arm extended, and the remains of a mug filled with coffee shattered on the tile floor, the coffee working its way into the grouted grooves.

"M-Marshall?" she said hesitantly, gingerly stepping closer, avoiding the ceramic shards and brown puddle.

His eyes were cast with a faraway glaze, a look in them she thought was hauntingly familiar to the day he had collapsed and stopped breathing.  That scared her, enough so that she gripped his shoulder and shook him slightly, "Marshall!"

He seemed to snap out of his trance, his gaze connected with hers as he murmured, "Sam?"

She didn't think she had ever heard the sound of utter despondency, but his voice just might have been it. 
"Are...are you okay?" she asked, searching his face for the reason behind this broken man that stood before her, who certainly wasn't the Marshall she knew.

"I..." he seemed to be trying to make some semblance of his thoughts, clearly struggling, "I don't...know."

"Is there a-anything I can do?" her voice was small, she wasn't sure how he would respond, or if he would respond.

"I don't know," he repeated again, this time it was accompanied by a singular tear dropping from his eye.

"May I hug you?" she asked, having summoned her courage enough to offer physical contact to someone who she'd never particularly been physically close to, save that incident in the hospital.

Marshall didn't say anything, but he hung his head in an almost imperceptible nod.  She leaned forward, careful to avoid the mess at their feet, and wrapped her arms around him as far as she could reach.  He was stiff, so she slid one hand up to guide his head to her shoulder gently.  That movement seemed to be the key to unlocking whatever curse he was under as she felt his body begin to tremble.  His breath hitched slightly, and then she could feel a warm wetness seeping through her sleeve at her shoulder.  He was crying.  He was crying and her heart broke for him.  She started running her fingers through his hair, whispering a mantra of "It's okay, let it out, you're safe."  She had learned it from Vikki, who had, on more than one occasion, done the same thing for her. 

After several moments, he let out a loud sniff and stood, Sam releasing her embrace as he did.  "Thank you, Sam," he smiled weakly.

She was glad to see a bit of his usual self, well to her anyway, returning, "A-anytime Marshall," she smiled back.

"Oh man, your shirt," he groaned slightly, "I'm so sorry, I can buy you a new-"

She could hear his guilt creeping up on him, so quickly jumped in, "They're only tears, Marshall."
"And probably some snot, sorry."
"You're not the first person to cry on my shoulder," she commented gently, pushing her glasses up slightly on her nose.

The corner of his mouth turned upward as he met her eyes again, "I'm a bit of a mess today."
"Hey, that's allowed," she returned, then "Why don't you go splash some water on your face, and I'll clean this up," she gestured to the floor, the coffee having started to travel along the cracks between the tiles, seeking other destinations.
"I can't let you do that," he protested.

"Well, tough," she said sternly, a little surprised by her own firmness.

"Yes ma'am," he replied, holding his hands up in defeat.

He went off to the bathroom and she grabbed some paper towel from the counter, placing several strips onto the floor to soak up the coffee.  Once the majority of it was dry, she used some of the bunched up paper to grab the larger pieces of the broken mug - it looked like it had read 'Eat. Play. Love.' in pink letters - and threw everything away in a bundle, the rest taken care of with a broom and dustpan.  She was pouring him a new coffee when he returned to the kitchen.
"Make sure you pour some for you too," he stated, reaching into the cupboard above her for the CoffeePal and sugar.  He pulled a second mug down for her as well.

She did as he suggested, adding both the sugar and whitener to hers, then followed him to sit at the table.  They each took a sip of their coffees before either of them said anything.

Sam broke the silence first, "Are you alright?"

"To be honest, Sam, not really," he sighed, rubbing his forehead with his thumb and index finger, "It's been...rough."
"I-I talked to Monica yesterday," Sam said quietly, not wanting to keep him in the dark more than he already kept himself.

He sat up a bit straighter in his chair, "Really? What did she say? How was she?" he then caught himself and held up a hand, "Actually, maybe don't tell me, I don't know if I could take it."
Sam eyed him for a second, choosing her words, then replied, "She's got a sadness about her, I would definitely say she misses you."

"Did...did she give you details about...about the break-up?" he asked, voice hitching slightly.

"Some," Sam answered, "And p-personally, I think you guys will pull through.  You just have to communicate, truthfully."

"I appreciate that, Sam," he gave a small smile, "It's just the knowing where to start."

They both grew quiet at that, Marshall in deep thought, and Sam not certain as to what answers she could give him.  She watched him as he pondered, his eyes distant, his finger tapping his mug.  She noted the size and shape of his fingers and found herself mentally comparing them to a certain blond Welshman's digits....she shook herself out of it.  She didn't want to overstay her welcome with Marshall, as he was clearly going through something, but she also wasn't entirely comfortable with the thought of leaving him alone.

"Marshall?" she asked hesitantly, unsure of what he would say.

"Yeah?" his eyes swam back into focus and glanced to her.

"I was planning to go to the Daily Grind f-for some, well, coffee or maybe something else...would you like to join me?"

"...will Angela be there?" she could sense the fear underlying the forced nonchalance.

"No, she works today."
"Then absolutely," he smiled.

"I saw your art there, with the Kissing Cow.  It was really good!" she smiled, moving to stand.

"Thanks Sam," he blushed, rubbing the back of his neck, "It felt good to draw again, I hadn't in a while."

"Well I think you should keep doing it."

"I'm not sure what I'd draw though," he commented, grabbing his wallet and keys then gesturing for Sam to precede him out the door before he closed and locked it.  She crossed to her apartment to get her purse and lock up as well.

"Well..." she took a deep breath as they descended the stairs, nervous about her next question, "What about some concept art for Evermake?"

"You mean your app game? But don't you have a professional artist for doing that? Like with Ruminate?" his emotions had flickered from excitement to somewhat crestfallen so fast, it gave Sam whiplash.

"The artist for Ruminate, Jasmine, seems to have kind of given up on doing art for video games," Sam shrugged, voice a bit sad.

"Well, then I think I just might be honoured.  If you'll have me, that is."

"I asked you, didn't I?" she teased.

"Alright there, smartass," he grinned, mussing her hair.  

They walked together, talking about possibilities for partnering up to work on Evermake, only pausing in conversation to enter the Daily Grind.  Sam waved to Vikki and Abe, who were already sitting at a table with their coffees, and she and Marshall walked up to the counter, Dee greeting them warmly.  Link came out from the back and even struck up conversation with both her and Marshall.  Sam noted that Link seemed a lot warmer toward Marshall than he had previously, and was glad to see he seemed to be burying the hatchet.  Sam had ordered a smoothie while Marshall ordered something cold and incredibly sugary – the name of which had had the word ‘unicorn’ in it.  They grabbed their drinks and went to sit with Abe and Vikki, who had moved over to make room for the two.

"Hi Sam, Marshall," smiled Vikki.

"Salutations," nodded Abe.

"It's nice to see you guys," said Sam, genuinely happy to see her friends there.

"Especially since you missed out on our last raid," teased Abe.

Marshall jumped slightly and looked around to Sam, "You missed out on World of Warquest? What could possibly have been more important?"

"Ummm..." her cheeks flushed bright red as she struggled to come up with a response that didn't involve naming a certain someone.

"So Marshall," Vikki interjected, having heard the reason from Angela, and sensing Sam needed some help, "Will you be coming back to yoga?" 

"Oh definitely," he nodded, waving the hand with his heart monitor attached, "The doctor said it's good exercise until this thing comes off."

"And when is that?" inquired Abe.

"In about 2 weeks," Marshall sighed, taking a sip of his drink.

"Two weeks, that's not so ba-" Sam cut herself off seeing the look on Marshall's face.

"That bad, huh?" asked Abe.

"You have no idea," groaned Marshall, bringing his head to meet the table with a soft 'thump.'

"Well then," grinned Abe, running his hands together, "Let's talk gaming."

The friends laughed and talked for a few hours, regaling each other with tales from past quests, adventures, and raids.  Also taking time to critique certain styles, characters, and back stories.  When they realized the time, they all said goodbye to Link and Dee, before leaving the cafe and going their separate ways.  On the walk back to their apartment building, Sam and Marshall started talking about ideas for the art for Evermake.  She could see Marshall had already been thinking about it as he verbally laid down some designs that were pretty well thought-out.  She loved his ideas and was cheered thinking about how much it would bring to the game.

As they climbed the stairs to their respective apartments, she had a last minute idea, "Did...did you want to come over and play some Super Bash Bros?" 

"Um, YES," he responded enthusiastically, "Besides, I have to redeem myself for last time."

Sam laughed and unlocked her door, letting them in.  Bowser bounded excitedly up to her, then froze in his tracks when he saw she wasn't alone.

"Uh, hey little man," Marshall said weakly, crouching and reaching a hand toward him.

Bowser flinched slightly, then seemed to almost squint while looking at Marshall, as if assessing him.

"What's he doing?" Marshall whispered to Sam.

"I think he's evaluating you," she whispered back.

Bowser seemed to come to a conclusion and stepped forward juuuuust enough to lick the edge of Marshall's finger.  He then raced off into Sam's bedroom with barely a peep.

"I guess that's progress?" Marshall asked, confused.

"I think so..." Sam trailed off.  The momentary silence was broken by a loud growling from Sam's stomach.

Marshall's eyes snapped to hers, a startled look on his face, "That actually sounded like the word 'food'."

Sam was bright red, and cleared her throat before suggesting, "Maybe we could order dinner? I hadn't realized I didn't eat much today."

"That sounds great," agreed Marshall as he flopped down on the couch, picking up the Player 2 controller, "I'm buying though, to thank you for today."
"You don't have to-" Sam started to protest, but he cut her off, "But I'd like to."
"Fine," she shrugged, "What do you feel like eating?"
"Hmmm," he scratched his chin, "Chinese?"

"Excellent choice," she smirked, dialing the number she already had memorized for her favourite Chinese restaurant.

Sam yawned tiredly as her head hit the pillow.  She and Marshall had battled for almost 4 hours, only taking a break to eat.  She had had a lot of fun though, and would definitely talk to Abe and the gang about Marshall maybe joining their guild.  As she waited for sleep to take her, her mind wandered to a part of the conversation they'd had just before he'd left.

"Marshall," she said cautiously, "It might not be my place to say this, but if you ever did want to try therapy, Vikki has some friends who are registered counsellors and therapists who would probably be more than willing to help you."

"I..." she swallowed thickly at his response, unsure if she'd overstepped, but the rest of his words warmed her heart slightly, "I think I might do that.  I'll maybe talk to Vikki when I go for yoga."

She truly hoped he did talk to someone about what was going on with him.  It was clearly something complex, and it might even help him with Monica.  Her mind started to drift over to ruminate on her last interaction with Charles, specifically, the strawberry juice incident.  He had been the one to initiate, but then had also been the one to back down after they'd been interrupted.  He was a man of mystery and mixed signals, and Sam had decided she would wear one of her new "smokin' hot" outfits, as Monica had deemed them, to work the next day.  Perhaps it would provoke a more concrete response from him in regard to her question.  She could feel a bit of anxiety flare up on thinking that he might say ‘no’ to continuing things with her, but it was quashed by the determination that she would get an answer out of him regardless; and she would do everything in her power to make it in the affirmative.

Chapter Text

Charles walked into the office the next morning, coffee in hand, stifling a yawn.  After several hours at the Escape Manor the night before - most of which was him delivering critique and suggesting changes, as he'd solved it much quicker than they had hoped - he had decided to push himself through a brutal workout in the hopes of tiring himself out.  It hadn't worked perfectly; he'd still had a maelstrom of thoughts regarding Sam keeping him awake well into the night, but he had finally managed to fall asleep.  Though he suspected his workout had likely ended up contributing to his fatigue this morning.

"G'day, mate!" Lucy called cheerily from reception.

"For the last time, Lucy," he sighed exasperatedly as he breezed past, "I'm not Australian."

"Potato, potahto," she shrugged.

Charles entered his office and shut the door behind him, needing a few moments of peace before dealing with the day.  He took a long draught of his coffee before sitting in his chair, taking in several calming breaths then booting up his computer and opening his email.  He heard some muffled voices outside and then a timid knock sounded on his door.

"Come in," he called out, eyes not leaving his screen as he took another sip of his caffeinated beverage.

"Good morning, Charles," Sam greeted warmly, stepping into the room.

He looked up immediately upon hearing her voice and choked on his coffee, eyes wide.  There she stood, snugly wrapped in a navy blue dress which left very little to the imagination regarding her curves, cutting off at an angle across her lower thighs, and demonstrating an ample display of cleavage.  The beige heels on her feet also added to the vision that she cast, accentuating her calves.  At the beginning of the day, he had planned to decline her request for him to teach her, but now, all he could do was picture what she looked like underneath the blue fabric, instantly recalling her expressions, her body, what she'd said, and how she'd tasted only two days prior.  His traitorous mind was reacting strongly to the dress, and he was certain she had been planning for it.  Against his better judgement, instead of responding verbally, he got up from his chair, walked quickly toward the door that she'd left open, and closed it, twisting the lock.

"Charles?" she asked uncertainly, placing a hand on his shoulder.  He reached up and gripped her wrist, whirling her around so her back was against the door, his arms caging her in on either side.

He leaned down until his lips just brushed her ear, voice strained as he asked, "Are you torturing me on purpose?"

"I-I don't know what you mean," she replied, though he could hear the light air of mischief in her tone.

He nipped her earlobe, revelling in her gasp before bringing his lips to rest directly in front of hers.

"I thought you wanted to t-talk about this at lunch?" she asked, her growing confidence making his self-control shake with exertion.

"We will be having a very detailed discussion then," he murmured, eyes sparking, "But for now, I hope you'll take this as my answer."

His lips crashed to hers as he pressed himself against her, feeling her fingers wind themselves immediately into his hair.  Her mouth opened and his tongue found hers, deepening the kiss as his hands gripped her hips.  He was getting carried away, he knew, but damn it all to hell if he cared.  He could feel Sam's eagerness in her response to him, even taking some control over the kiss, surprising him.  More and more, she was making him forget her inexperience, though perhaps it was because she was with him...he locked that dangerous thought away in a chest in the back of his mind.  He felt one of her hands shift, reaching down until she gripped his fingers and guided his hand upward, toward her cleavage.  This time, he didn't stop her, the smell of her arousal intoxicating him, enticing him to push farther than the last time they'd been in a position like this in his office.  He cupped her breast through the dress, kneading lightly as he bowed his head to kiss her neck, trailing down to drag his lips across the swell of her breasts.  They both jumped suddenly when a knock sounded at the door, almost directly behind Sam's head, reality crashing in.  Charles quickly reached up to smooth his hair then gripped Sam's shoulders, gently guiding her sideways so he could unlock and open the door a crack.

"Yes?" he asked as Lucy's face came into view.

"NexTek is on line one for you," the redhead responded, clearly trying to look into the office, "They have a counter offer."

"You could have just called me, Lucy," he replied, exasperated.

"I'm getting in my steps!" she smiled, holding up her wrist and showing off her new FitBlip.

"Right," he said stiffly, then "Anything else?"

"Nope!" Lucy grinned and walked back to her desk.

Charles exhaled and closed the door, turning to Sam.  She still had an attractive flush on her cheeks, and he couldn't stop himself from reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.  She leaned into his touch, and he found himself cupping her jaw.

"We will talk more at lunch," he said softly, his gaze piercing, "I will come to collect you around noon."

She nodded and reached up to grip his hand, squeezing it lightly before releasing it.  She was only able to get out two words, "Until then," before slipping out of his office, closing the door behind her.

Charles propped his forearm against it, eyes staring up at the ceiling as he centered himself with a few breaths, "This may prove more of a challenge than I anticipated," he said aloud.  He turned and reached up, straightening his tie before walking over to his desk to answer the phone, its blinking red light demanding his attention.

Sam strode quickly into her office - though not so quick as to escape the notice of a certain dark-haired developer.  As soon as her door was closed, she leaned heavily against it, recalling the feel of Charles’ hand on her chest, him pressed against her, how his normally tightly held self-control had wavered.  She recalled his words from only a few days before:

"If one is going to dip their pen in the company ink, then they should not do so while on the company dime.  It would be wise to not take things any further while here."

Well this time they'd certainly taken it further...all because of a dress.  She made a note to profusely thank Monica for making her buy this outfit, as she had been pretty hesitant.  She took a few more breaths, then moved to sit behind her desk, figuring she should get some work done before lunch.  She didn't even notice the next few hours fly by as she replied to emails and again went over her proposal for Indigineer.  A knock sounded at the door and she bid the person enter even as she stood from her chair.

"Are you ready for lunch, Miss Young?" asked Charles, having at least mentally prepared himself before seeing her in the dress again.

"Already?" she asked, glancing at the clock.  "I-I guess I got lost in work," she blushed, noting his raised eyebrow.

"That's good to hear," he responded, gesturing for her to walk ahead of him, which she did, grabbing her bag on the way.

"Are we going somewhere specific?" she inquired as they left through the main door.

"There's an Italian place not far from here, if that suits you," he replied, trying very hard to keep his gaze from being stuck to her rear and how it moved in that dress.

"I like Italian," she smiled, adjusting her pace to walk beside him.

They stepped off the elevator and got into his car, he held her door for her as per usual.  A 10 minute drive later and they were parking outside of a cozy looking dining establishment that was almost wall-to-wall windows.

"This is beautiful," Sam commented as she walked up to peer in through the glass.

"I'm glad you like it," he smirked, following her in through the main door.  "Table for two, please," he said to the hostess as she greeted them.

"Right this way," she nodded, grabbing several menus and guiding them to a candlelit table in the corner, one side had a loveseat-style bench, and the other a chair; Sam went for the former while Charles chose the latter.

Once seated with their menus open in front of them, a glass of chianti for Charles, and a lemon water for Sam on the table, she found the courage to start the conversation.

"So, y-your answer spoke for itself."

"As intended," he nodded, sipping his red wine, "However, I would like to set some rules, or guidelines, for going forward from here."

"What kind of rules?" she asked, eyes narrowing slightly.

"Rules regarding things like emotions getting involved, to prevent us from-"

"Charles," she interrupted, her voice imploring, "You had said to 'let things develop organically,' so why don't we just do that?  Rules and guidelines and restrictions d-don't exactly spell organic to me."

He reeled internally at her logic, both congratulating and cursing her for it.

"Samara, I-" he was cut off as the waitress approached and asked for their orders.

"I'll have the Parmigiano," Sam managed to say without butchering the word, as she had expected to.
"Excellent choice," nodded the waitress, and for you sir?"
"The Pescatore, per favore." Sam noted his Italian was flawless. 'Of course it is' she thought to herself.

"Perfect," smiled the waitress, "I'll put those in straight away."

As soon as she had walked away, Charles resumed their conversation, "Samara, I tend to only ever establish partnerships with women that are based on rules, ones that exist simply to fulfill needs."

"Then I guess you'll be trying something new," she replied frostily, sipping her water.

"I'll not be able to sway you from this, will I?" he sighed.

"Just go with the f-flow, Charles" she cursed herself internally for the stutter that always seemed to show itself when she was around him, "And if you're ever uncomfortable, just talk to me."

Charles eyed her in silence, taking another sip of his wine.  In one day, she had already gotten him to break more of his own rules than he'd done by himself in over a year.  He mulled over something for a moment, watching her fidget as she waited for him to voice his inner monologue.

"We will try it your way," her heart leapt as he finally spoke "But I still stand by my aforementioned statement, I am not a man of commitment."

"And like I already said," she made sure to hold direct eye contact with him as she spoke, "I'm not even sure commitment is something I'm looking for."

She didn't miss the light blush that rose to his cheeks as he covered his mouth with his hand, biting her lip to prevent herself from grinning.  She was learning that it was often about intellectual sparring with Charles, and she just needed to ensure she could parry his thrusts, at the very least.  Well, the metaphorical thrusts anyway.  Her cheeks reddened further as her mind pictured exactly the kind of thrusts she had subconsciously implied.

"Are you alright, Samara?" he asked, having noticed her now almost scarlet complexion.

"I'm fine," she replied, standing, "I just need to use the bathroom."

She hurried to the ladies' room and splashed some cold water on her face, "Get a hold of yourself, Sam," she scolded her reflection.  Once she'd regained control, she returned to the table, seeing their meals had been placed.  They enjoyed their food, Charles displaying a surprising amount of knowledge regarding Italy and its cuisine, while Sam was content to let his voice wash over her.  When the waitress collected their empty plates, she asked, "Any dessert for you?"

Charles looked to Samara, then answered "The tiramisu."

"Very good."

"What's in tiramisu?" Sam inquired curiously once they were alone again.

"It's a coffee-flavoured Italian dessert," Charles explained, sipping the last of his wine, "It's a bit of a combination of biscuit, soft cheese, cocoa, and coffee."

"Sounds delicious," Sam commented.  She then voiced something that had been tugging at her mind since they'd spoken earlier, "So, in the s-spirit of things developing organically, when should we...I mean, for the first..." she trailed off, uncertain as to how to phrase her request.

"I have fencing lessons tonight," Charles stated, having known exactly what she was trying to ask, "But my evening tomorrow is free.  We should probably refrain from too late a time, as we both have work the next morning."

Sam nodded in agreement, gesturing for him to continue, "Perhaps we could adjourn to my place after the work day is over?" he suggested, "We can pick up dinner en route."

"O-okay," Sam smiled.

"And what is it exactly that you are expecting to happen, Samara?" he asked, bluntness ever present as he laced his fingers together in front of him, leaning his chin on them.

She contemplated telling him she'd been thinking about his tongue on her since that dream she'd had, or how she’d been fixating on his fingers a lot, or wondering how he would feel inside of her.  Instead, figuring she would stumble over those words anyway, she went with "W-why don't we see where the night takes us?"

He seemed somewhat mollified by that, and before he could try and unnerve her further, a small plate full of gorgeous looking dessert was planted on the table between them, accompanied by two forks.

"There you are," said the waitress, "And can I interest either of you in a drink? Specialty coffee perhaps?"

Sam coughed out a loud “No!” instantly covering her face with her hands.  Charles chuckled, answering the perplexed waitress with, "No thank you, we're quite alright."

"At least you knew to say no this time," Charles laughed as the waitress retreated, earning a glare from Sam.

"Yeah, whatever," she rolled her eyes lightheartedly.

She then picked up a fork and dug it into the dessert, lifting away a good-sized bite.  She smoothly slid it past her lips and chewed thoughtfully, letting the confection spread along her tastebuds.  Her eyes rolled upward and she let out a soft moan that had Charles adjusting his crossed legs.

"This is amazing," she stated, going for another bite.

"It is certainly one of the better iterations I've had," Charles commented, taking a second bite of his own.

On her third bite, Sam had managed to get some filling on her upper lip, though didn't seem to notice.  Charles continued watching her enjoy the dessert, trying very hard not to think about how badly he wanted to lick the errant cream from her lip.  He finally settled for reaching across the table and swiping it off with his thumb.  There was no way he could have prepared himself for what came next, though he would replay the moment over and over in his mind in the days to come.  Sam, her confidence buoyed by Charles having acquiesced to her request, and also how he’d barely taken his eyes off her, moved quickly.  Before he could pull his hand too far from her mouth, she leaned forward and captured his thumb with her lips, licking the dessert off with a swirl of her tongue, and releasing his digit with a light 'pop'.  She sat back in her chair, maintaining eye contact with him as she swallowed the filling, seeing him frozen with a stricken expression on his face.  Inwardly, she was grinning, proud of herself for having been braver than she would have been merely a week ago; outwardly, she did her best to maintain features of innocence.  She wasn't entirely sure what she'd expected his reaction to be, but it certainly wasn't him getting up and re-situating himself on the cushioned bench beside her.  He checked to make sure the long tablecloth blocked them from view.  She jumped as she felt his hand grip her thigh underneath the table, his other pulling the plate of tiramisu to rest in front of her.

"You really should finish your dessert, Samara," he whispered in her ear, voice impossibly deep.

Her only response was to breathe a bit harder.  She felt his hand slowly sliding higher as he murmured more into her ear, goosebumps erupting across her skin, "You're not the only one who knows how to tease. Oh, and do keep the volume down, we wouldn't want to draw any unwanted attention."

She squeaked as she felt his fingers brush up underneath the hem of her dress, drawing circles on her skin.  To aid in muffling herself, she took another bite of tiramisu, a shiver racing through her as his hand edged ever upward.  

"Are you alright, Samara? You seem a bit flushed," he smirked, earning a glare from her.

She speared the last bit of dessert with the fork and chewed, still eyeing him as his thumb reached the crease where her leg met her hip.  He dragged it gently across the dip, following the edge of her underwear toward the apex of her thighs currently longing for his touch.  The motion caused her to drop her fork, the clang drawing the gazes of a few other patrons.

"I didn't think you were one to cause a scene, Bunty," he spoke quietly, so close to her.

She was about to fire back a scathing retort, likely something along the lines of 'Oh shut up and touch me, Jones,' (clearly her Lust was holding the reins), when he suddenly withdrew his hand from her and said, "My, look at the time, we'll be late returning from lunch."

Her jaw dropped slightly and he flagged the waitress over, asking for the bill.

"You'll catch flies if you remain that way," he commented, noting her teeth click together, her frustration evident.

"You...suck," she finally managed to say, cursing herself for coming up with such a lame comeback.

"Yes, and I quite think you'll like it," his voice deep again as his eyes twinkled with both mischief and intent.

She let out an irritated "Agh!" as she grabbed her bag and left the restaurant ahead of him.

He quickly paid for their meals and followed her, catching up easily as they approached his car.

"Just remember, Jones," she said somewhat haughtily as he opened her door for her, "Payback is a bitch."

He closed the door on her smirk and stood for a moment, taking a deep breath before getting into the driver's seat.  When his hand had been poised so close to her centre, he'd felt the heat radiating from her; a heat that he had stoked within her.  It had taken a large reserve of self-discipline for him to stop when he had.  He adjusted his tie and started the car, both sitting silently for the first few minutes, each lost in thought.  He spoke first, having remembered his phone conversation from that morning, "NexTek called earlier."

"Oh?" she asked, interested despite her irritation with him, "And what did they say?"
"They presented a counter offer."

"Did you take it?"
"Not exactly.  I talked them up a bit to more of a compromise."

"I bet they weren't super thrilled with that," she commented, looking out the window.

"Likely not," he nodded, "I think they may have to undergo some layoffs."

"You c-couldn't give just a bit?" she asked, feeling slightly guilty.

"It would have been detrimental to Young Technologies to go any lower than I did, I had to make the decision based on business.  You do understand that, don't you?"
"...I do."

"There won't always be a completely happy ending when it comes to this world," he said softly, trying to assuage some of the guilt he'd sensed in her tone, "You merely have to learn to navigate the best possible course."

"I know, Charles.  I just have to get used to it I guess."

They pulled into the parking garage for the office and Sam opened her door.  Before she could get out, Charles grabbed her hand and tugged her back into her seat.  She looked at him curiously.

"Samara I don't think this needs to be said, but I shall say it anyway.  What is happening between us should be kept out of the office, particularly in places where others will see."

"I had figured as much, Charles," she smiled lightly at him.

He brought her hand to his lips and pressed a light kiss to her knuckles, taking in the blush it inspired on her cheeks. 

 They got out of the car, riding the elevator up to the office together.  On walking in, they went to their separate offices and didn't see each other again until Charles poked his head into hers at the end of the day.

"Once you've finished what you're doing, I'll give you a ride home," his voice brooked no argument.

"I can take the bus, Charles," she sighed, "B-besides, you have fencing lessons to get to."

"I insist," he replied firmly before walking away.

"One of these days I'm going to drag you onto the bus and make you ride it," she grumbled.

"I heard that, and you most certainly will not," he called from the hallway.

Sam frustratedly threw some things from her desk into the drawer, turning off her computer, and grabbing her bag.  She walked out of her office and was flanked by Charles as they made for the garage.

"You're so stubborn," she sighed as they stepped off the elevator.

"I prefer to call it persistence," he replied, holding the passenger door open for her.

Sam rolled her eyes, "Persistently stubborn."

"How very original," he teased, closing the door and getting into his seat.

"What's your deal with the bus anyway?" she asked, looking over at him.

"Between assaults and accidents, methods of public transportation have proven to be quite dangerous," he kept his eyes on the road.

"You're that concerned for my safety?" she felt a warmth spread in her chest.

"I would hate to have to find a new assistant," he corrected, purposely not looking at her.

All Sam replied with was "Hmm" and they rode the last few minutes to her apartment in relative silence, she with an idea forming, and he trying not to encourage the hem of her dress to ride slightly higher up her thighs.  He pulled up in front of her building and finally turned to face her, noting how her eyes darted to his lips.  He felt something giving within him knowing just how well he could read her, not that she tried to hide anything from him.

"I'm not usually one for goodbye kisses," his tone was firm with a soft underlay, particularly on seeing her face fall slightly, "But, perhaps I can give you a slight preview for tomorrow night."

She barely had time to process his words before he'd gripped her chin, leaned forward, and brought his lips to hers.  He tilted his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue sliding into her already opened mouth, and she responded in kind.  She very much liked the taste of him, and was just beginning to feel the heat rising, when he pulled back, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips before sitting back in his seat.

"J-just a preview, huh?" she asked, slightly breathless.

"Going further in the front seat of a car isn't exactly what I would call comfortable," he replied, smirking at her responding blush.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Charles," she smiled softly then got out, walking toward the entrance.

"Tomorrow is going to be a long day," he sighed to himself as he drove off.

Sam walked into her apartment, kicking off her heels and catching Bowser as he launched into a majestic leap at her from the nearby chair.  He licked her face enthusiastically, letting out happy barks as she scratched behind his ears.

"Alright boy, you ready for a walk?" she asked him, seeing his little eyes light up.

"Ahp! Ahp! Ahp!" he jumped around her feet, then ran to grab his leash.

"Okay, give me one minute to change and then we'll go."

She quickly replaced the navy dress with some jeans and a comfortable sweater, then put on Bowser's lead, taking him down the stairs and outside.  As they walked through the park, Sam thought over the idea she'd come up with.  Charles had once called her manipulative, so perhaps she should take a page from his book to try and get a reaction out of him.  She would wake up early the next morning to take the bus, before he could 'conveniently' pull up outside her building at the time she usually left, as he'd been doing almost every day.  He hadn't done it that morning, but Sam figured it had something to do with how tired he'd looked when she’d first seen him.  Part of her wondered, and hoped, that he was having dreams just like she was.  After Bowser did his business and sniffed some butts, Sam walked him back to her place.  She warmed up some leftover Chinese and, while eating, she texted Monica, 'Do you have time for a phone call?'

About 10 minutes later, her phone was ringing, her pink-haired friend's name lighting up the screen.

"Hey kiddo," she heard after accepting the call.

"Hi Monica," she smiled.

"So how'd it go with business boy?"

"I wore the navy dress," Sam said shyly.

"Ooooo that one's a stunner, what'd he say??"

Sam proceeded to tell her about his 'reaction' and how their conversation had gone afterward.

"Well hot damn, little missy.  Looks like you have yourself a date tomorrow."

"I'm not sure he'd phrase it that way, but I guess..."

"Are you nervous?" the tenderness in Monica's tone made Sam feel more at ease.

"Y-yes, I don't know what's going to happen."

"Would you like my advice, Sam?" 

"Yes please."

"Since you're new to this, let him take the lead to start.  Once you feel more comfortable, maybe you can push your own boundaries a little, try and discover what you like."

"I honestly don’t know what that would be."

"Well, you do know what you like from yourself, right?"

"Ummm, I'm not sure what you-"

"You've never paddled the pink canoe? Visited the safety deposit box? Auditioned the finger puppets? Buttered your muffin? Jilled off?"
"Was that English?" Sam blinked at these new phrases currently bouncing around her head.

"Girl, have you ever masturbated before?"

"W-what? No!" Sam cried, embarrassed.

"It's nothing to be ashamed about," Monica soothed, "It's actually an incredibly healthy way to figure things out about yourself, and it most certainly helps you in guiding your future partners.  Plus it feels pretty awesome."

"I...I'm not sure w-where to start, to be honest," Sam's voice trembled slightly.

"Start with the basics, your fingers.  Just reach down and touch yourself when you're in the mood and try different things out.  If you're still unsure, there's an entire library of 'education' out there on the internet."

Sam could practically hear the wink in Monica's voice, and replied with "I...some friends of mine gave me some sites to check out a while ago f-for…reasons."

"Use those!" Monica cheered, then her tone turned teasing "Or maybe I could come over and show you how it's done."

"Ehh..." Sam was certain she'd blush-splosioned again in response, turning to see Bowser blinking his eyes several times and waving a paw in front of his face confirming it, "I-I don't think I'm r-ready for that."

"I know kiddo, I'm just teasing you."

"Th-thanks Monica, I really appreciate being able to talk to you about...well everything."

"I'm here for you anytime, Sam," Monica's warmth spread through the phone, all the way to Sam's chest.

"And the s-same goes for you," she thought she heard Monica sniffle lightly on the other end.

"Alright well I need to test out some makeup for a vlog, text me later!"

"Seeya," Sam hung up, her uncertainty having been alleviated slightly by her talk with Monica.

She finished up her food while watching some shows, and then decided maybe she would re-visit the websites from Vikki and Angela that she'd used to help her with 'exposure therapy'.  After 30 or so minutes of watching, she had an idea as to where to start with herself, but then another video caught her eye.  She watched it, and several others like it, getting some ideas for her...liaison with Charles the next night.  When she felt ready, she closed her laptop and put Bowser to bed.  She changed into something comfortable and climbed beneath her covers, laying on her back.  She took a deep breath and started pulling up memories of Charles kissing her, grinding against her, his lips on her neck, his hand on her breast, then how his mouth on her had felt in her dream.  She fixated on that image and hesitantly slid her hand down between her panties and her skin, continuing until she touched the small nub she knew was there, jolting in reaction to the sensation.

"Woah," she breathed.

She brought herself back into the fantasy, 'watching' Charles suck on the very pearl of nerves she was currently massaging with her fingertip.  She liked the feeling, and tried increasing the pressure.  The pleasure she felt heightened, even more so when she doubled the speed, moving her finger in circles over her clit.  She pictured Charles pushing one of his fingers inside of her, pumping it as his mouth continued its previous ministrations.  Almost as if of its own accord, her free hand drifted down to join her other one, adjusting the angle slightly so she could push one of her own fingers into her centre, noting the wetness, slowly moving it in and out while her mind supplied the visual of it being Charles touching her.  When she imagined him adding a second finger to his first, she did the same with her own, letting out a groan at the feel of it.  Her coordination was slightly clumsy at first, but once she found a rhythm that worked, she could feel an unfamiliar coiling of heat in her lower abdomen.  Her hands seemed to have a mind of their own, speed and pressure increasing, and she felt something starting to build up, extremities tingling.  She was approaching an edge she couldn't see, but could certainly feel, and without warning, was flung off of it.  Her vision filled with white, her back arched harshly, and her whole body spasmed.  When her muscles relaxed, she lay still, panting until her mental faculties were back under her control.

"Thank you thank you thank, Monica, thank you," she whispered aloud.

When she felt ready, she pulled her hands out of her shorts and stood up, heading for the bathroom.  She washed her hands and looked at herself in the mirror, noting she somehow looked a bit more relaxed.

"Well, that's certainly something I'll be trying again," she told her reflection.  She brushed her teeth, then set her alarm for an hour earlier than normal, asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.

Chapter Text

Music suggestion: At the words "Finally, having had enough.."  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nQYW-vUWa3c

Charles pulled up next to the sidewalk, parking his car outside of Sam's building.  It was the usual time of morning when she would walk out to catch the bus to go to work, and also the usual time he would intercept her.  He'd even brought lattes this time as a means to ease the ire he suspected would be forthcoming, especially after their conversation the previous afternoon.  After about five minutes, he checked the time again, then checked the front of the building, squinting to try and see further into it.  Another five minutes passed and he started to grow a bit wary as to her lack of appearance.  He was going to be late if he waited much longer, so he pulled out his phone and fired off a quick text, figuring a call might be a bit much, 'Are you running late today, Samara?'

Her responding message was quicker than he'd expected, 'I'm already at the office. Are you running late?'

He angrily tossed his phone onto the passenger seat, a string of angry Welsh noises leaving his lips as he shifted his car into gear and pulled away from the curb.  His thoughts cycled as he drove.  ‘She purposely got up early to take the bus, knowing it would infuriate me.  Is she trying to make me angry? Or is she avoiding me…’  He thought back over their interactions the day before and didn't think he'd done anything notably gauche; which made him all the more irate.  He pulled into the garage at Young Technologies, slamming his door behind him, tray of coffees in hand.  When he entered the office, the aura emanating from him stopped Lucy from making any smart remarks - or any sounds at all - and he went straight to Sam's office.  He opened the door without knocking, noting with some satisfaction that he'd startled her, and placed one of the coffees on her desk with a bit more force than was necessary.  He answered her confused look with a terse, "I didn't want it to go to waste."

Sam watched as he stormed out of the room, closing the door loudly behind him.  She smiled in triumph as she took a sip of her newly acquired latte, noting the pleasant flavor of maple and coffee blended to perfection.  She'd gotten a reaction out of Charles, which was what she'd been looking for, though what came next was anyone's bet.  When lunchtime rolled around and she hadn't heard anything from him, Sam started chewing on her hair, beginning to doubt if her plan was such a good one after all.  She was too anxious at that point to eat, so she worked all the way through lunch, wondering how long he would ignore her.  One, then two, then several more hours ticked by and still nothing.  She had left it to him to approach her, though began thinking she may have jeopardized their first evening together within this newly established paradigm.  The end of the day came and went, with Umed popping in to say goodbye, then Lucy to say that Sam and Charles were the only ones left, asking if Sam could lock up.

Finally, having had enough, Sam stood, straightening her dark green blouse and black pencil skirt before marching to his office and knocking loudly on the door.  There was no answer, but she knew he was in there.  She raised her fist to pound on the door again, when it opened suddenly.  Charles reached out and grabbed her forearm, pulling her inside.  He closed and locked the door, then whirled on her.  The look on his face caused her to take a step back, which he mirrored with a step forward.  He continued advancing on her, finally speaking, "What are you playing at?"

Her brows creased as she stepped backward again, halted by the backs of her legs coming into contact with his desk, "I'm not playing at anything," she tilted her chin upward both in defiance, and also so she could maintain eye contact when he moved in closer.

"I've expressed to you multiple times how I feel about you taking public transportation, and yet you go out of your way to do just that."  He leaned down so his hands were planted on his desk on either side of her hips.

His scent invaded her senses and she found it hard to concentrate with his lips mere inches from hers; a ploy she knew he was using on purpose.

"You w-wouldn't give me a reason why you di-dislike it so much," she tried to keep her tone firm.

"I told you, it's unsafe."

"That's not an answer, it's a statistical analysis," she argued, body afire.

"I..." she saw several emotions flashing through his stormy gaze, too quick to identify.  She thought maybe he was caving, but instead he closed the last bit of distance between them, crushing his lips to hers in a bruising kiss.  She knew he was avoiding the question, but right in that moment, she didn't care.  Her hands slid slowly up his chest as his tongue slid along her own.  She gripped his tie and he gripped her hips, lifting her to sit on the edge of his desk, rucking her skirt up in the process.  Charles broke away to kiss along the column of her neck, Sam tilting her head to give him better access.  Some strategically placed bites drew small moans from her and he moved to lick along the shell of her ear as his hand slid up her thigh.  Briefly, she thought he might be teasing her as he had in the restaurant, but he brought his forehead against hers, holding her gaze as he moved his hand higher, pausing just before reaching her underwear.  He was silently asking her permission, which she gave without hesitation by way of a small nod.  He kissed her deeply then as his fingers brushed the edge of her panties aside, finding her clit with no trouble, massaging it lightly.  She gasped into his mouth at the sensation, noting it was different than her own touch had been, more certain, more assured.  She felt him move his finger to glide along her folds, spreading the wetness she had already known was there.  When he slid his exploring finger into her, she reflexively clutched the front of his shirt.  She could feel his lips smirking, so she bit the bottom one, noting with triumph how he faltered slightly.  She'd briefly forgotten how large his fingers were, but when one was buried knuckle deep within her, she had no trouble remembering.  He slowly withdrew it, and his thumb once more found her small hub of nerves, stroking it as his finger retraced its previous path.  She moaned at the sensation, and decided that she wasn't the only one who should be enjoying themselves.  She reached down and grasped at his belt buckle, trying to undo it one-handed.  His free hand suddenly stilled her efforts, a breathy "You don't have to do that, Samara," whispered against her lips.

"I w-want to Charles," she murmured back, voice catching slightly as his finger completed another thrust, "I want to feel you, so let me."

‘Oh fy nuw’, he thought internally, thinking this woman just might be the death of him.  He released her hand, not really needing further convincing as his erection pushed painfully against the fabric of his pants.  Sam got the buckle figured out and unzipped his trousers, sliding her hand between them and his silk boxers.  She felt the impressive bulge and briefly wondered, with some trepidation, if he would actually fit inside of her.  A sharp inhale from him and the speeding up of his finger within her erased any thought process she'd had, and she pulled down the waistband of his underwear, freeing him from its confines.  She gripped his shaft, fingers nowhere near encircling the girth of it, and started sliding her hand upward.  She recalled one of the videos she'd watched the night before, swirling her thumb over the tip of his length, spreading a bit of the fluid that was there.  She slid her hand back downward, picking up her pace.  She felt him shudder slightly then press his lips to hers once more.  When he inserted a second finger into her, momentum and pressure ever increasing, she increased her own in kind.  It wasn’t long before she started to feel the now recognizable warmth building in her abdomen, and as she approached her peak, her grip on him became halting and erratic, more so as she climbed.  When she climaxed, she gasped his name and it was enough to pull him over with her, his release spilling onto her hand as he breathed "Samara" into her neck.  They stayed propped against each other for a few moments, their breathing normalizing.  Charles was first to lean back, pulling his hand from her, leaving an odd sense of absence in its wake.  He held her gaze as he brought his fingers to his lips and sucked them clean, murmuring "So sweet," as if it was to himself.  She wasn't entirely sure why, but it struck something deep within her, to see him tasting her like that.  She thought she'd return the favour, also curious about his flavour, and licked a bit of his essence from the back of her hand.  She saw his eyes darken even as the slightly salty taste registered on her tongue, finding she rather liked it.  Charles moved to tuck himself back into his pants, and Sam uttered a shy, "I-I'm just going to go to the bathroom and clean up.  And then should we...?"

He helped her down and pulled her against him, guiding her chin upward, "I don't think I'll have the patience to pick up dinner on our way to my place," she wasn't sure she had ever been this turned on, "So we'll have to eat out instead."

She didn't miss the double entendre behind his words, leaning up to kiss him fully.  He returned it and she pulled back, heading to the washroom while he straightened up his desk.  He took a few seconds to center himself, Sam had completely blown him out of the water.  Between provoking him, her newfound confidence, her refusal to back down, and her utterly seductive curiosity, he figured it would be days before he slept again.  Not to mention how tight she'd felt around his fingers, and the sweet muskiness of her taste that would haunt any dreams he was able to have.  A small 'ding' from his pocket drew his attention away from the brunette and he pulled out his phone.  The text was from an unknown number.  Curiously, he opened it, and almost promptly dropped it.

'Hi Charles, it's Sam...Sam Griffiths.  I'm in America and I was hoping we might talk.'

Charles was immediately filled with anger and had to stop himself from smashing his newly-acquired pink phone against the wall.  He was instantly brought back to the day he'd come home to find his so-called best friend riding his then wife.  He didn't bother responding to the text, not even wanting to confirm to the traitor that it was his number.  ‘How did he find me?’ He questioned himself, trying to figure out who might have given Griffiths his contact information.  He was pulled from his fuming by Sam leaning against the doorway to his office.  He looked over to her, taking her in completely.  Her cheeks were still pink, skirt a bit rumpled, hair askew, and heat in her eyes.  He knew, in that moment, he couldn't bring her home with him tonight.  He would only end up burying himself in her, using her to quell the pain, and he couldn't do that.  Not to her.  Another part of him tried to point out that to do so would be to open up emotionally to her, and that wasn't something he could allow.  Not now.  

"I'm sorry, Samara, we'll have to postpone our plans for this evening.  Something's come up."

Confusion and hurt crossed her features as she pushed off of the doorframe, taking a step toward him, "What? I was gone for five minutes, what could have possibly..." her indignation petered out with her words as she analyzed his appearance.  His jaw was clenched, a muscle twitching along the side, his eyes were shadowed with something reminiscent of anger and pain, and the knuckles of the hand gripping his phone were white with tension.  She didn't know what had happened, and wouldn't try to pry it out of him, but it clearly had shaken him.  She came to stand before him and lifted her hand to his face, gently rubbing the creases that had formed between his furrowed brows.

"You d-don't have to tell me," she said softly, "But if you want to talk, I will listen."

He had expected frustration, anger, perhaps even a few tears.  But her complete understanding and sympathy...he wanted so badly to just give in to her then and he almost did.  He almost reached forward to pull her into a passionate embrace and even shifted his weight to do so.  But then Griffiths' words flashed across his vision, his chain and its golden manacle weighing him down by his pocket.  He chose instead to grasp her hand and bring it to his lips, lightly kissing her knuckles in a gesture of thanks.

"I appreciate that, Bunty," he spoke genuinely, "Perhaps in time."

She nodded, eyes shining with her obvious affection for him, and he pressed lightly against the small of her back, guiding her toward the door.

"I'll give you a ride home," he said, closing the light as he walked out behind her.

"I could just take the bus-" she started, but it died mid-sentence under the glare he threw her way.

"Alright alright," she held up her hands placatingly, "You can drive me home."

Charles remained deep in thought as they got into his car, seemingly on autopilot.  Sam chewed her thumbnail as he drove them out, barely even glancing her way.  She finally worked up the courage to place her hand on his, where it rested on the gearshift.  She thought he might pull away, but smiled to herself when he did no such thing, letting her hand stay where it was.  Sooner than she would have liked, they pulled up in front of her building.  Both were quiet, unsure of what to say to the other.  Sam took in his profile and noticed an expression on him that she had never seen, nor thought she ever would when it came to him; he looked lost.  She couldn't hold back from wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him into a hug as best she could across the front seat of the car.  He was stiff at first, probably startled, but then she felt his arms wrap around her in turn.  He allowed it to go on, his treacherous stream of consciousness babbling away toward what would happen if he let her in, what it would be like to give himself to her.  Then a faint 'klink' rang in his ears, a sound only he could hear, and those dreams melted away.  He pulled back and looked to her face, tone delicate as he said "I'm sorry again, Samara."

She shook her head slightly, "I know you wouldn't do this unless it was important," she acknowledged.  She could see the conversation wouldn't go much further at present, so she decided to end it for both of them.  "I'll see you tomorrow Charles, please take care."  And with one last squeeze of his hand, she got out of the car, not looking back as she entered her building, though once she was behind the glass of the door, it was a different story.

Charles watched her walk in until he knew she was safe, then made the drive to his apartment.  Closing the door behind him, he slammed his fist against the wall beside it.  His eyes stung, but he wouldn't let anything escape.  He had shed enough tears over that woman's betrayal and he refused to give her any more than she'd already taken from him; which seemed to include what would have been his first evening with Sam.  He loosened his tie and threw both it and his jacket onto the couch, stalking over to his liquor cabinet and pulling out a crystal glass along with a bottle of his favourite brandy.  He poured himself a generous helping and sat facing the window, watching life outside fly by.  He soon found the bottom of the glass and poured himself another, repeating this until he passed out where he sat.  His empty glass lay sideways on the table beside him, remnants of the last finger of brandy dripping onto the floor.

The next morning, Sam had to really kick herself out of bed.  She'd been worried about Charles the previous night, so hadn't slept very well, often waking up to check her phone.  Bowser had caught onto her worry, choosing to sleep in the bed beside her, trying to comfort his mistress.  She dressed quickly, choosing some waist-high black slacks with a satin tan shirt tucked into them, complete with dark gray ballet flats; another Monica-approved ensemble.  She ate a fast breakfast then walked downstairs to the front, looking out for Charles' car.  She didn't see it anywhere, and another check of her phone showed no messages from him.  Her concern morphed into worry as time ticked by and there was still no sign of him.  Should she just go to the office and see him there?  A recollection of his face when she'd gotten out of the car the night before pushed her toward the other option she'd been considering.  She pulled up his contact on her phone and called him.  It rang several times, Sam worrying her bottom lip with her teeth as several scenarios played out in her head as to why he might not be answering.  Just before she assumed it would go to voicemail, she heard the click of someone picking up, a throat clearing, then Charles in a very hoarse voice, "Samara? Is everything alright?"

"Yes, w-well, I'm not sure...are you alright?"  She heard rustling on the other end of the line that sounded like him getting out of bed, "Are you just getting up now?"

His response was to groan and clear his throat again, then "I didn't set an alarm last night...I didn't precisely fall asleep in my bed."

"Wh-what?" her voice trembled slightly as her mind immediately went to the thought of him being in someone else's bed.

"Not like that!" he said quickly, having intuited where her thoughts were heading, "I passed out in the chair in my living room."

"Passed out?" Sam’s mind continued to race, wondering what exactly had happened after he’d dropped her off, "Charles, are you okay?"

"I..." he paused, forming a response he felt wouldn't unduly worry her, "I will admit that perhaps I had a bit much to drink last night, in a mistaken attempt to prevent myself from venturing down paths I would rather not travel."

"You should stay home and rest today then," Sam replied, disconcerted by the thought of him drinking alone, something she didn't think he did on a regular basis.

"I think that might be a good idea," he sighed, "Will you be okay with handling things today?"

"Y-yes, don't worry about work," she answered, though her anxiety spiked upward a bit thinking about having to deal with clients by herself.

"Will you be alright getting there on your own?" there was tenderness in his tone, but she didn't want him to go out of his way.

"I'll be fine, I can call for a Ryde."

"Let me know when you get there then.  And feel free to contact me with any questions or issues."

"I'll try n-not to, so you can relax," she teased.

"I'll speak with you later, Samara."

"Talk to you then."

She hung up and felt a cloud of worry spawn over her head as she ordered a lift from the Ryde app.  The car was there within several minutes and she was at work shortly after.  She sent a quick text to Charles to let him know she'd gotten there safely, then walked into the office, greeting her coworkers somewhat half-heartedly.  When passing Lucy's desk, she paused to say, "Hey Lucy, can you forward Charles' calls to me today? He won't be coming in, he's not feeling very well."

"That's too bad," the redhead frowned, "I do so hate to be deprived of the sight of his beautiful face.  Will do Sam!"

The brunette thanked her and went to her office, sitting behind the computer.  She answered the emails she could, leaving some more in-depth ones for Charles to help her deal with the next day.  In between these, and only one phone call, which she was able to handle on her own, she read over her Indigineer proposal for the umpteenth time.  They were presenting it to the company the following Monday, and she wanted to be ready.  She really hoped it went well, not wanting anyone else to endure the heartache that she had with Ruminate.  Even though that had mostly been resolved, it was only because she'd happened to bump into the man who'd been responsible for it in the first place.  She sighed as she checked the clock.  It was 2 p.m., and she found she could no longer concentrate on work, her foot having practically fidgeted a hole into the carpet as her thoughts perpetually wandered to Charles.  She closed up her work space, then approached Umed, "Hey Umed, I'm going to head out early."

"So you can go and look after Charles?" her friend asked knowingly, eyebrow raised.

"N-no," she tried lying, clearly unconvincingly based on the look on his face.

"It's okay," he soothed, voice hushed, "I won't tell anyone." 

“H-how did you-“

“I have my ways,” he wiggled his fingers at her, “Now go on,” his encouraging smile inspired one of her own, "Thanks, Umed."

"Anytime, tell that towhead I said to get well soon," he responded, turning back to his computer.

"Will do," Sam nodded before saying goodbye to Lucy.

She took the bus to her apartment, walked and fed Bowser, then made a quick batch of her mother's chicken soup to bring to Charles.  She opted to take a Ryde to his apartment, a bit worried about the possibility of spilling the soup on the bus.  Also because she knew he would hate it if she'd taken any form of public transportation there.  Through some stroke of luck, she remembered his apartment number and pressed his buzzer on her arrival.  An answering static followed by his familiar voice came through the intercom, "Who is it?"

"It's me." 

That seemed to be all she needed to say as the door clicked open immediately and she went through, stepping onto the elevator and pressing the button for his floor with her elbow.  She got off without incident and walked up to his door, tapping on it with her foot.  It opened almost right away, as if he had been waiting by it.

"Samara, you didn't have to come, not that I'm unhappy to see you" he stated, seeing her hands full of the food container and gingerly taking it from her.

"I-I wanted to bring you some soup, it's comfort food.  And maybe to ease your stomach."

"And maybe because you missed me?" he grinned roguishly at her before turning to take the soup to the kitchen.

"I w-wouldn't go that far," she blushed, knowing he was, in fact, quite correct.  She changed the subject as she closed the door and followed his path into the apartment, "Umed passed along a message for you."

"Something about me being a towhead?" he responded, already heating some of the soup on the stove.

"And that he hopes you get well soon."

"How touching."

"You're going to eat all of that?" she asked, eyeing the amount of soup he had steaming in the pot.

"You didn't think I would eat this alone did you? Especially not when it smells so delicious."

Sam beamed, delighted in knowing that he wanted her to stay for a meal with him, part of her having thought he would have already sent her on her way.  She stepped forward to give the soup a stir while he pulled two bowls from one of the cupboards and set them on the counter.  He next took two spoons from a drawer, and set some places for them at the dining table...the very table where he'd ravished her not that long ago.  She shook her head and distracted herself by bringing the spoon to her lips to test the temperature.  He must have had a top-of-the-line stove as it was a bit hotter than she expected it would be, letting out a surprised "Ah!" as it burnt her lip.  Charles strode over and turned off the heat, then tilted Sam's chin up slightly so he could look at her lip.

"It's a bit red, but I don't think it will get any worse.  Just a minor burn.  Would you like some ice?"

"No, that's okay," she replied.  

Before she could react further, he murmured "Then perhaps a simpler treatment," and leaned forward to kiss her tenderly, just a brush of his lips on hers.  When he pulled back, he almost looked as shocked as she did at his actions, taking a step backward and deflecting, "Let's try this soup, shall we?"

He ladled some into each of the two bowls on the counter then carried them to the table, Sam following behind him.  She sat in her chair and took a spoonful, being sure to blow on it before eating.  

"How's the soup, do you like it?" she asked, looking up from her bowl.

Charles' face looked almost identical to Link's and Marshall's when they'd tried the soup for the first time, as if in awe.

"I guess you like it," she continued, smiling slightly.

"Samara, this is fantastic," he finally spoke, taking another bite, "It...reminds me a bit of home."

"It's my mother's recipe," she blushed.

"Well thank you for making it for me, I very much appreciate it, though you really didn't have to go to all that trouble."

"You're worth the trouble, Charles," she grinned when she saw that she'd made him blush.

As they finished their soup, she filled him in on that day’s work, and on which clients she had left for tomorrow's work.  He nodded his head in agreement with her decisions.  When their bowls were empty, he put them in the dishwasher and gestured for her to follow him to the sitting area.  He sat on one end of the couch, and she sat on the other.  It was silent between them for a moment, until Charles angled slightly to face her and said "I can see you're trying very hard not to ask me about yesterday."

"You don't have to tell me if you don't-" she cut herself off as he raised his palm toward her.

"You deserve to know, Samara, at least a pared down version in any case."

Sam tucked her legs underneath herself and watched him, giving him her full attention.

"As you are already aware, I was once married; and I know Umed informed you on how that came to an end."

She flinched slightly at the memory, recalling how angry she'd felt.

"The catalyst to its ending, my best friend at the time and also the best man at my wedding, was named Sam Griffiths."

"So that's why you didn’t want to call me Sam," she exhaled, remembering his words in the restaurant.

"A part of it, in any case," he nodded then continued, "Yesterday, after our...dalliance, he sent me a message.  I have no idea how he got my number, but it dredged up memories I often avoid thinking about."

"What did he say?" she asked, leaning toward him slightly.

"That he's in America and wants to speak with me."

"I see," she replied, mulling over this new information, "And will you meet with him?"

"Absolutely not," the venom in his voice surprised her a little as he raked a hand through his hair, "I've left that part of my life far behind me and I do not intend to revisit it now, or ever."

"Even though you carry your ring in your pocket?" 

She'd thrown him off guard with that, far more astute than he'd given her credit for.

"Only as a reminder to not walk that path again."

Sam started to piece together that this heavily influenced why he had insisted on rules, why he'd had partnerships based only on fulfilling needs, why he was adamant on not letting her in.  She could sense that it wouldn't do any good to push it further tonight, but perhaps she could help him put those notions to rest, and maybe the ring as well.

"I understand," she simply said aloud.

Charles observed her closely, taking the opportunity to as she seemed to be somewhere else.  He'd spent most of his day alternating between cleaning, needing to lie down, and thinking of her.  He'd warred with himself internally over whether or not to text her multiple times throughout the day, his logical side always emerging victorious, though only slightly.  She had surprised him when she'd shown up, and he hadn't entirely known what to expect.  This woman before him was slowly taking his walls down brick by brick, and he wasn't entirely sure if that was something he could let happen.  He still felt he was not worthy of her, that she would be better off with someone less broken, less cynical.  It had astounded him when he'd made the realization - somewhere around mid afternoon - that he'd been the first to touch her intimately, at her own insistence.  It both warmed his heart and fed the part of him that said he didn't deserve it.  He jumped slightly as he came back to the present and saw her watching him stare at her.

"You looked a bit lost in thought," she commented, noticing that they’d both somehow inched closer together, now less than a foot apart.

"I was," he admitted.

"Best be careful, or you might not find your way back," she teased.

He almost fell off the couch as his mother's exact words from his childhood spilled out of Sam’s mouth.  

"Wh-where did you hear that?" he asked.

"It's something my mother says sometimes," she replied, somewhat puzzled by his reaction.

The entire moment left him feeling somewhat vulnerable, so he deftly changed topics.

"I recall mentioning a postponement yesterday," his eyebrow was raised.

"I-it can wait if you nee-"

"Are you free tomorrow night?" he asked, almost nonchalantly.

"Yes," she replied, hardly needing to think on it.

"Then perhaps we should make a second attempt at our planned evening.  I'll drive you here after work?"

"Okay," she smiled, "Can we pick up sushi for dinner? I mean, unless your stomach is too-"

"I will be fine for sushi by then, especially after the miracle cure that was your soup."

Sam blushed.

"I think I should turn in a bit early tonight, get some proper sleep so I'm well rested for tomorrow," Sam blushed even harder at his underlying implication, "Give me a few minutes to get dressed and I'll drive you home," he finished softly.

"Th-that's alright, Charles," she protested, "It's out of the way for you, and you weren't feeling well today."

"Through no fault but my own," he grumbled.

"Well still, I don't want you to put yourself out like that," she tried to make her voice sound as firm as possible.

He sighed, "Then at least allow me to call you a taxi."

"Okay fine, but I'm paying for it."

"Certainly not."

"But-"

"Oh fy nuw, just let me do something for you!" he exclaimed, gripping her shoulders.

"O-okay," she breathed, a bit taken aback by the vehemence of his reaction.

He released her and picked up his phone, calling for a taxi while Sam grabbed her bag.  He walked over to the door with her and surprised her when he followed her out, locking up behind them.  He saw the look she gave him and responded with "I'm coming to see you off."

She noted that he hadn't left this open for interpretation, so rolled her eyes lightheartedly and walked with him into the elevator.  He seemed to be looking to become lost in his thoughts again on the ride down, so she started humming 'Apple Bottom Jeans.'  It drew a soft chuckle from him and she grinned, pleased that she was able to make him smile.  The taxi was already waiting when they got down to the lobby.  Charles walked outside with her, the fact that he was in his pajamas in public not bothering him one iota.

"The fare has already been paid," he commented, turning to her, "Please let me know when you've arrived home."

She looked up at him and he couldn't help but bring his hand to her face, brushing her bangs out of the way so he could press a gentle kiss to her forehead.  She hugged him in return, her face buried in his chest, comforted by the smell of his cologne and something distinctly Charles.  He returned the embrace, wrapping her securely in his arms and resting his chin atop her head.  They only parted when the taxi driver honked (as politely as he could, he was a fan of a romance, after all), and Sam lightly squeezed Charles’ hand, "I'll see you tomorrow, Charles."

"I look forward to it," he smiled.

She got into the cab and waved as it drove off, watching him grow smaller as she moved farther away.  Once home, she made sure to send him a text saying she was safe, and that the taxi ride had been accident-free, to which he'd replied 'Very funny, Samara. Sweet dreams'.  She had briefly panicked, wondering if she'd let something slip about her steamy dream of him, but a mental check told her that was not the case, merely coincidence.  She wished him the same and then situated herself at her computer, determined to work a bit on Evermake before calling it a night.

The next morning, Gurpreet Singh, CEO of NexTek, sighed as she waited for one of her employees to arrive in her office.  It wasn't going to be a pleasant conversation, she hated having to do this, but it was, unfortunately, necessary.  She looked up as the door opened, and Darin, said employee, entered, taking a seat when indicated to do so.

"Good morning, Darin," Gurpreet said softly.

"I get the feeling you don't have good news for me," he replied, voice low.

"I'm very sorry to do this, but we weren't left with any choice when Young Tech refused our counter offer.  Unfortunately, we can't afford to keep you on, and your performance stats aren't as high as the other employees...I'm going to have to let you go."

"I've been here for 5 years," the anger in his voice outweighed the resignation he’d felt, having suspected what was coming.

"And we've loved having you for that time," she replied, making direct eye contact with him, "But I had to make a choice, and it was done based on numbers."

"I don't have anything to fall back on," his voice broke.

"I'll make sure you get a good severance package," Gurpreet soothed.

"Thanks 'Preet," he sniffed lightly, then stood, "I'll go pack my things."

"Please let me know if there's anything I can do to help," she added, standing as well.

Darin simply nodded then exited, packing up his small number of belongings and carrying them out the door, ignoring the stares of his coworkers.  Once outside, he looked back up at the building he'd been coming to every day for half a decade.

"It's not your fault," he murmured aloud, then turned his head to the side, gaze directed down the street, his voice hardening "It's Young Technologies'."

Chapter Text

Music suggestion: At the words "Let's have it then" https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ez9PFk9kDQY

Sam looked up from rinsing her breakfast dishes as her phone chimed with an incoming message.  She shook the water off her hands and picked it up, smiling when she saw Charles' name on the screen. 'I'm just outside.'  She bit her lip and texted back, 'The bus arrives in 5 minutes.'

She let out a loud laugh as his response came in immediately. 'Samara Young, if you so much as set one foot on that bus, so help me I will throw you over my shoulder and toss you in the backseat.'  She decided to poke the bear one more time, 'You wouldn't.'  His answer was right in line with what she expected: 'Try me'.  While her fun side very much wanted to see that happen, the part of her that she saw as slowly becoming his reminded her of his strong reaction the day before.  Besides, she would much rather be in his company than on a bus full of strangers on her commute to work.  She called goodbye to Bowser and was out the door and down the stairs in minutes, her face automatically smiling without her even really knowing it upon seeing him.

"Morning Cheerls," she grinned as she hopped in.

"Good morning, Samara, I trust you slept well."

"I did," she nodded as they drove away, "Are you feeling better?"

"Much," he confirmed, eyes glancing toward her.

He reached up to adjust his seatbelt, skewing his tie slightly in the process.  Sam noticed, and couldn't stop herself from leaning over to fix it for him, trying to convince herself the increased proximity to him had nothing to do with it.

"And how do my 'Welsh tits' smell today?" he asked, tone teasing.

"I...eh?" she jumped at his choice of words, giving him a completely bewildered stare.

"Ah, I see you don't remember that," he chuckled, turning left at an intersection.

The colour drained from her face as she realized what occasion he was referring to, her voice flat, "What did I say?"

"During the extremely arduous task of keeping you out of your brother's line of sight that fateful evening, I had to pull you around a corner to hide.  While your annoyingly intuitive brother was inching closer to discovering us, I was fearing for my life whilst you were nose-deep in my chest."

"Uh..."

"And declared, rather loudly I might add, 'Oh my god, your Welsh tits smell amazing'."

Sam buried her face in her hands in embarrassment, skin a tomato red. 

"I must say, if those had been the last words I was to hear in this life, I wouldn't be completely disappointed," he smiled at the look she shot him.

"You know," she stated haughtily, "I'm n-not even going to apologize. You do smell amazing.  And besides, you're still breathing so clearly you got us out of there alright, despite my...outbursts."

"I had to run while carrying you out in an unorthodox fashion."

"I bet it shut me up though."

"No, you bellowed 'Yeehaw' at the top of your lungs."

Sam blushed, but still was determined to come out on top, "Well at l-least I didn't make any lame jokes, it sounds like I was pretty blunt all night."

Charles delivered his next line while imitating Sam's voice, "'Liquor? I hardly know her!'"

Sam coughed in surprise, then raised an eyebrow as a thought struck her, "You never did say why you brought me to your apartment instead of mine."

Charles cleared his throat lightly, this time it was his cheeks that flushed "My initial intention was to drive you to your place, but as you seemed so determined to crawl into my lap en route, I felt it was safer to just go to my apartment; the difference in distance greatly decreased the chance you would run us off the road."

"Hmm," Sam hummed aloud, placing her hand on his thigh, "Are you s-sure it wasn't because you wanted me to come inside?"

Charles pulled the car in to park in the Young Technologies garage and plucked Sam's hand from his leg.  He brought it to his mouth, nipping the skin at the inside of her wrist, then soothing it with a kiss.

"Isn't that what tonight is for?" he asked, his accented voice a smooth baritone that strummed more than just her heartstrings.

Sam blushed, the colour spreading down to the hint of cleavage featured by her black, long-sleeved dress.  She'd paired it with a string of pearls which she was currently running between her fingers, feeling a mixture of nervousness and arousal.

"We should exit this vehicle, Samara," he all but whispered, "Before things get out of hand."

Sam saw an opening to rile him further and she took it, "Well I w-would prefer things be in my hands...or other places."  Her shy smile spoke of mischief as she hopped out, she was enjoying more and more how she could stun him so easily.  

Charles, for his part, cleared his throat, adjusted his tie, and got out as well, thinking on how long of a day this was going to be.  

They walked into the office together, greeting those who had arrived already, and then both went into Charles' office.  He left the door open, knowing that having others within easy view would prevent Sam from provoking him more than she already had.  He was not yet entirely sure how much of it he could handle.  Together, they went over the emails she'd left from the day prior, Charles showing her how to handle certain issues, and Sam taking notes and asking questions.  Every now and then, he would feel her leg 'accidentally' brush his, so he would return the favour with his hand against hers.  When the subject arose, he jumped at the opportunity to go make them some coffee, giving himself a little breathing room.  It was more maddening than he had predicted it might be, having her within such close reach but not really being able to do anything about it.  He couldn't pinpoint exactly when his self-control had eased up on the reins, but he knew they were certainly not as taut as they'd been a week or two ago.  He was just walking back with two steaming mugs of java when Sam came out of his office, almost bumping into him.

"Had enough of emails for the morning?" he teased, handing her one of the coffees, handle first.

"I-I thought I'd take some time to go over the Indigineer proposal again," she said shyly.

"I think by now you've likely got it memorized," he stated gently.

"I know," she said, eyes downward, "I'm just a bit nervous."

He guided her into her office, following just behind, not realizing he'd closed the door out of habit.

"It's alright to be nervous, Bunty," he soothed, taking her mug and placing it with his on her desk.  He stood in front of her and gently rubbed her upper arms, "I will be there with you, you've no need to worry."

"What if they don't accept?" she looked up at him, eyes shining.

"They will."

"But...if they don't…"

Neither had noticed when exactly they'd moved toward each other, but when Charles murmured, "Then they're fools," it felt only natural for him to lean down slightly and press a tender kiss to her lips.  She returned it, feeling the gravity of him smoothing down her anxiety, her hands clutching his shirt.  They pulled apart and Charles gave her a quick peck on the forehead.

"Now, I need to go and make a few phone calls.  If nothing else, I'll see you at the end of the day," he said, brushing her hair out of her face.

"I look forward to it," she smiled in return, handing him his now lukewarm cup of coffee.

He dipped his head and walked out, leaving her door ajar.  Sam sighed and sat in her chair.  She kept alternating between nervousness and excitement regarding that evening, trying to picture how it would go.  Would they talk first? Would they just go for it?  It was pretty apparent they had very reactive sexual chemistry, and she found herself caring about him more and more.  She knew she probably shouldn't, considering how far he held the world away from himself, but her inner optimist wouldn't allow her to throw in the towel completely.  She pulled up the Indigineer proposal on her computer screen and stared at it, mind drifting to the day he'd agreed to do the presentation for her.  Now, looking at the memory through a different shade, especially recalling his face when he'd turned away from her, she could see she really had affected him.  Also, knowing a bit more of his history, she could truly appreciate how deeply he'd been hurt by his ex-wife.  A small part of her was well aware of the pain he was capable of inflicting if she continued falling deeper with him, but the rest of her cared not one whit because he was worth the risk.  

The rest of the day passed at a relatively decent pace and soon enough, Sam looked up to the light knocking of knuckles on the doorframe.

"Ready to depart?" Charles asked with a small smile.  His demeanor carried a laissez-faire quality that Sam thought looked quite good on him.

"Definitely," she grinned, closing things down on her computer and grabbing her bag.

"Did you have a specific sushi restaurant in mind for tonight?" he asked as they exited the elevator and approached his car.

"Sushi Eleven?" she suggested, "Their tempura is to die for, a-and there's one pretty close to where you live."

"I see your attention wasn't solely on your Indigineer proposal," he teased.
"How could it be?" she asked, her words holding both the obvious and subtle meanings within as one.

"Perhaps then I shouldn't distract you so much from your work," he chided playfully.

"'Perhaps' you don't distract me enough," she replied huskily as she gripped his lapels and pulled him down toward her, their lips coming together with a heat that reached down to her toes.  Riding in the wake of the element of surprise, she lightly bit his lower lip and tugged on it.  He groaned and, while maintaining the kiss, spun her until he had her pinned against the side of the car.  His knee rested between her legs, hands gliding down her body then back up until they were just brushing the undersides of her breasts.  A mewl of pleasure passed from her lips to his, further fueling the fire; until something that had been tugging at the back of his mind came crashing to the foreground as the 'beep beep' of a nearby truck being locked cut through the spell they'd invoked upon one another.

"I think a change in locale would be ideal," he murmured, leaning back.

The pout she gave him, particularly with the kiss-swollen lips, dazed eyes, and heaving chest, made him begin to second-guess his statement.  He summoned his willpower and leaned forward, enjoying watching her lower lip stick out even further as he grabbed the door handle instead of kissing her, as she'd likely expected.  She let out a playful huff and climbed in, he closing the door, adjusting his tie, and getting in behind the wheel.  He turned to see an eager expression on her face, and his eyebrow lifted in query.

"Tempuraaaa," she whispered excitedly.

He let out a chuckle as he started the car, "Why don't you ring ahead so that our order will be ready when we get there?"

"Waaay ahead of you, Jones," she replied, already finished dialing the number.

He hadn't even seen her pull out her phone.  She was full of surprises today...which sent soaring his level of anticipation for that evening.

They walked together into Charles' apartment, bags of food in hand.  Sam started organizing their meal while Charles pulled out some plates, two forks, and poured each of them a glass of water.  He came back to the table to see that she'd sorted it into groupings; rolls, sushi/sashimi, noodle dishes, tempura, and appetizers.

"Have you eaten sushi before?" she asked as he sat.

"Every now and then I feel the urge," he answered, "It's been a while since the last time though."

"My favourite, after the tempura of course, are the Maki rolls," she commented, separating a pair of the chopsticks that came with the meal and popping a piece of sweet potato tempura in her mouth.

"Then I shall follow your recommendations," he smiled.

They slowly made their way through the abundance of food on the table, Charles taking suggestions from Sam for flavours.  It was when she picked up a second small ball of dough covered in sesame seeds that she finally noticed Charles was using a fork to eat his meal.

"Do you..." she trailed off.  He's damn near perfect at nearly everything, there's no way he doesn't know how to use chopsticks, she thought to herself.

"Do I?" he prompted.

"You're eating with a fork," she stated.

He laughed, genuinely, and gestured toward her chopsticks, "Perhaps you should show me how you use those then."

Sam thought on it for a second, then had an idea though was unsure if he would go for it.

"Or I could just feed you," she tried to sound nonchalant, but knew it came out shaky.

He eyed her for a second, then leaned toward her, "That depends on what you have there."

She held up the small pastry and explained, "It's a fried sesame ball; fried dough with a kind of sweet centre."

"Let's have it then," he nodded, lips parting slightly.

She lifted her chopsticks toward his mouth, careful not to poke him by accident.  She had never in her life seen eating sushi or its counterparts as sexy...though until now she'd never eaten it with Charles.  When his lips came together around the ends of the chopsticks, eyes closed as he savoured the sesame ball, her voracious psyche suddenly supplied her with the image of Dream Charles closing his lips in a similar fashion around her clit.  She couldn't stop herself from letting out a soft moan.  His eyes flew open and focused instantly on her; she could barely see the blue of his irises, his pupils were so wide.  He reached over and took the chopsticks from her hand, tossing them on the table as he stood, gripping her hand to pull her standing as well.  In one fluid motion, he tugged her toward him and pressed a kiss full of intent against her lips, both tasting of sesame.  She melted into him, her hands fisting his shirt as his pressed against the small of her back, pulling her flush against him.  He rotated them slowly, his tongue finding hers, walking her backward toward the living room.  She let him take the lead, Monica's words from several days ago echoing in her mind. 

When her calves hit the edge of the small couch in his seating area, she sat, grabbing his tie and pulling him down with her.  He obliged, coming to kneel on the floor between her legs, loosening and pulling off his tie.  She reached forward timidly and undid the top few buttons of his shirt, then her fingers buried themselves in his hair, pulling him against her more, deepening the kiss.  His hands glided down her sides, along the curves of her hips, to the edge of her dress, playing with the hem.  He broke their kiss to make eye contact with her, his intentions clear in his gaze.  She indicated her acquiescence by lifting her arms up above her head.  His lips found hers again as his fingers slid underneath the dress, palms against her skin, thumbs hooking the edge of the fabric, dragging it slowly upward.  He bent his head low so he could lay a trail of kisses along her body as it was exposed inch by inch in the removal of her dress; the top of her thigh, her hip, her navel, just below her bra, on the inner curve of each breast, the hollow of her throat, rejoining her lips as he pulled the garment over her head and arms.  He draped it on the arm of the couch and placed his hands on the tops of her thighs, basking in the throaty notes he elicited from her perfect mouth.  He leaned back slightly and pressed his forehead to hers, watching her ever expressive eyes as he slowly, painstakingly so, slid his right hand up along her leg.  He noted the darkening of her gaze, how her breathing shallowed, and then the scent of her arousal suddenly overwhelmed his senses.  He could feel that she wanted it, but communicated a silent request for permission all the same.

She picked up on this, granting it with a whispered, "Please."

He continued the movement of his hand, shifting it over to her inner thigh, as he lowered himself to be in line with her core.  His thumb brushed the edge of her panties, a simple black number with a bit of lace border.  His eyes still held hers as he stroked his thumb over the front of her underwear, tracing the line of dampness he’d seen there.  She let out a small gasp and he drew his digit back up, circling over her clit.  He then withdrew his hand, receiving a whimper of protest in reply, and reached around her with both hands to grab her ass and slowly slide her forward on the couch until she was sitting right on the edge of it.  Sam felt like she was on fire, set alight by the desire she could see reflected in his ocean blues as he watched her reactions to him.  She silently urged him on as he brought her closer to his face and, recalling her dream, wondered if she was about to find out if her subconscious had gotten it right.  Charles gripped the hem of her undergarment with both hands, pulling downward.  Sam lifted her hips slightly to aid him in removing it, watching as he slid the material slowly down her legs.  After completely divesting her of the underwear, he placed it with her dress and grasped her ankle, slowly raising it to his lips, nipping the skin on the inside of it lightly, followed by a kiss.  He kissed his way back up the inside of her leg, noting with satisfaction when she spread the other to accommodate him.  When his mouth was level with her centre, he blew a light breath of warm air over it, ears picking up on the sharp inhale she made in response.  His gaze was fixated on the shape of her mound, the sparse smattering of curls, and the perfect rosebud nestled atop her glistening folds.  Sam had started to squirm self-consciously, but her insecurity was completely blown out of the water when Charles leaned his head forward and licked a solitary line from stem to stern, sealing it with a quick suck on her clit.

"Oh!" she gasped, hips jerking in response to the sensation.

He smirked and slid his hands beneath her thighs, gripping her ass.  He then began working her clit and stroking over her folds in earnest with a combination of tongue, lips, and teeth; Sam quite immediately discovered that Dream Charles didn't hold a candle to the real Charles.  She wasn't sure when it happened, but her fingers had become entwined in his hair at some point, lightly gripping the silken strands.  She threw her head back when he pushed his tongue into her and flexed it upward, reaching spots she hadn't even known existed.  He explored her thoroughly, drinking in her taste as if it were life-sustaining.  Suddenly, his tongue seemed to retreat and she almost sobbed out, but stopped instantly when she felt a long, slender finger enter her in its place.  She shuddered with pleasure when a second finger joined it, and he began pistoning them in and out slowly, curling upward and inward on the inbound stroke.  Charles watched her face as he worked her with his fingers, and the sensual bliss he saw was something he never thought he would crave seeing; he couldn't tear his eyes away.  After a few more pumps inside of her, he brought his lips to reunite with her clit, eager to taste her sweet musky flavour again.  He danced a heady choreography of tongue movements timed perfectly with his fingers, and felt her starting to ramp up.  Her walls were clenching tighter around his digits, and he could feel her muscles tensing, if the hands gripping his hair were anything to go by, all the while she was chanting, "Please Charles, yes, there, don't stop."  He sped up with his fingers and increased the pressure of his tongue, an immense pride surging over him when she came hard, his name bursting loudly from her lips.  He remained in place, languidly stroking her with his tongue until she floated down from her high.  Sam felt boneless, never had she experienced anything like that before, and it sent a tingling sensation all the way along her skin.  She was enjoying what he was still doing with his tongue, but she wanted, needed to kiss him in that moment.  She tugged on his hair, indicating for him to kneel up, and he complied, wiping a hand across his mouth.  When her lips crashed to his, she could taste herself on them.  Something primal within her responded to this with a fierceness she didn't know she possessed.  He shifted forward and she wrapped her legs around him, feeling his erection press right against her already sensitive core. 

Just as their kiss was deepening, hands exploring, a loud buzzing came from Charles' pants pocket.  He continued kissing her, letting it go to voicemail.  It did so...then buzzed again, seeming to almost be angry.  He swore and violently pulled the pink phone out, ready to turn it off, but the name "Samuel Young" flashing across the screen gave him pause.  Sam peeked down and saw her father's name, eyes widening in panic as she looked up at Charles, who seemed equally distressed.

"You should p-probably answer it," she stammered, "Or he'll keep calling.  Or worse, he'll video call."

Charles turned his gaze upward, as if willing himself the power of patience, inhaled and exhaled deeply, then reluctantly moved to stand.  He accepted the call, bringing the phone to his ear.

"Hello, Mr. Young," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose so hard his knuckles were white, his arousal fading.

Sam watched Charles' facial expressions as her father spoke on the other end, his voice so loud she could hear it as a tinny echo from the tiny speaker, "Jones, are you in the office?"

"No sir, I'm at home."

"Well I need you to be at the office.  I require details from some of the documents there to finalize a few things for the potential buyout of-"

Charles coughed loudly, his eyes darting over to Sam to make sure he'd covered his employer's next few words.  He then spoke before Samuel could, "Yes, right away Mr. Young, I'll call you once I'm there."

"Better move your ass, Jones, my beautiful wife is currently alone in a bikini by the pool…and I SAW how that pool boy looked at her."

"Yes, sir."

Sam heard the click of the call ending, then watched as Charles placed both palms on the kitchen bar, bringing his forehead to rest on the cool marble as he muttered, "It's like that man has a sixth sense for this or something.”

She'd pulled her panties back on during the conversation and slid her dress back on as well.  She walked over to Charles and placed a small hand on his upper arm, "Why don't we continue this on Saturday?"  She suggested, trying to assuage some of the frustration she was certain he was feeling.

"I will be away this weekend," he spoke, voice a bit stilted as it bounced off the countertop, "I've been asked to coach the youth fencing team from my club at an out-of-town tournament.  We leave tomorrow after I finish at work."

"Well, when you return then," she asserted, ducking under his arm and laying her cheek along the stone slab so she was facing him.

"I am truly sorry to cut our evening short...again," he sighed, reaching for her hand as he stood.

"It's alright Charles, it's not your fault," she assured him, squeezing his fingers, "It's not like I didn't enjoy it.  I've truly never experienced anything like that before."

He smirked at that, though deeper inside of him, he acknowledged that he was the first to taste her in such a way.  ‘And I will be the last’, his mind supplied, surprising him. ‘Where the hell did that come from?’  Aloud, he said "Well I'm glad I could help you there.”

In response, she stood on her tiptoes and pulled on the back of his neck, bringing him down for a soft, sweet kiss.  "Me too," she breathed, a shy smile on her face.  She then turned and pointed toward the food that was still sitting on the table, "We should probably put this in the fridge."

"Indeed," he nodded.

They began closing up the containers and putting them away.  Sam suddenly froze when she watched Charles grab her chopsticks and pick up a piece of deep fried banana, delivering it expertly into his mouth.

"You!" she spluttered, finger pointing accusingly at him.

"Would you like a piece?" he asked, offering her a second morsel with the chopsticks, his face the picture of innocence.

"But you said-"

"I never said that I couldn't use chopsticks, I merely asked for a demonstration," he replied smugly.

Her jaw dropped open in indignation. Charles stepped over and smoothly placed the dessert in her mouth, using the tips of the chopsticks to push her jaw closed.  She chewed angrily as she glared at him, he putting away the last of the food.

"Shall I give you a ride home, Bunty?"

"Well we already know how you feel about me taking the bus," she grumbled, marching out the door ahead of him.

He laughed lightly and grabbed his jacket from its hook by the door, locking up behind them.  Not once did he reach up to adjust his tie (which was no longer there anyways) or search for the ring in his pocket; unbeknownst to him.

They pulled up in front of Sam's building and before he could say anything about goodbye kisses, she leaned forward and gave him one.  He returned it then stroked her cheek.

"I'm sorry we didn't get to you," she said softly, having thought about it the whole ride over.

"It's quite alright, Samara, tonight was about you," his voice deepened with his last words.

She felt goosebumps break out across her skin and saw him smirking at her.

"I will get you back for the chopsticks," she vowed.

"Then I think I might be glad I'll be safe out of town for the next few days," he retorted blithely.

"I still have tomorrow to exact my revenge."  She winked at him then, and hell if it didn't stir a deep sense of excited apprehension within him.  She cheekily tapped the end of his nose with her finger and hopped out of the car, turning to wave before walking into the building.  He watched her every step until she disappeared from view.  Turning his head back to the front window, he was unable to stop himself from shouting “Damnation!” so loud, he scared a few passersby, allowing himself a second to let out his frustration at the incredibly inconvenient interruption.  Then a loud exhale, a hand through his hair, and a smack of his palm on the centre console were the markers of his departure, throwing the car into gear and speeding off.

Sam practically sprinted up the stairs to her apartment, closing the door behind her and leaning against it.  Bowser was currently with Mrs. Whipple - probably already in a popcorn coma - and she would go and pick him up shortly, needing some time to process what had happened with Charles.  She closed her eyes and recalled the sensations she'd been feeling; how his mouth and tongue had felt, how he’d drunk her in with his gaze, that hungry look she was getting to know so well, ever prominent.  She was becoming worked up again with just the mere thought of it all, feeling a bit warm.  After a few deep breaths to calm herself, she resolved to go and collect Bowser, and then her evening would be spent doing some 'research'.

Chapter Text

Music suggestion: At the words "When the clock struck noon" https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NC-uaFbQgeo

Charles was waiting outside for Sam the next morning, as per usual.  He felt tired this morning, likely owing, in part, to the late night of paperwork and one-sided conversations with the Young patriarch.  He even thought his phone speaker might have blown at one point, when Samuel had squealed upon seeing a dog he thought was a perfect match for Bowser...apparently.  Or when he'd suddenly boomed in laughter at his own joke:  "I just need to loosen my tie...HAHAHA GET IT, JONES? Because I'm drinking MAI TAI'S....MY TIE! You'd better be laughing..." Or when he'd spoken fluffy lovespeak to his wife, seemingly forgetting Charles was still on the line.  Even all of that wouldn't have been so bad, as the end result, he felt, would be worth it.  No, it had been later.  When he'd closed his eyes, it was the images of her; her expressions, the recollections of her flavour, the echo of the sounds she'd made, and the beauty of her naked vulnerability offered up to him that had kept him from sleeping properly.  A mixture of imagination and dreams haunting his waking and sleeping hours. 

He took a long draught of his vanilla bean latte, abruptly swallowing a large amount when Sam walked out of her building.  She was wearing a dark grey pant suit, the blazer accentuating her shoulders, paired with a crisp white dress shirt, and a pair of black heels.  It was clear to him that she wasn't used to wearing shoes like that, but if he hadn't known her so well, he would have thought otherwise.  But none of those things were what drew the bulk of his attention.  That had been firmly fixated on what was tied perfectly around her neck, hanging at an angle as it draped over her ample bosom.  It was his tie...the light blue one he'd worn the prior evening, that he'd taken off just before...He faced forward and gripped the steering wheel so tightly, the joints in his fingers cracked.  Sam opened the door and hopped in, putting her bag at her feet and turning to see Charles looking slightly red in the face, coughing.

"Charles, are you alright?" she asked, concern lacing her features.

"J-just swallowed the w-wrong way," he got out, clearing his throat loudly several times, "There.  My apologies, Samara.  You look lovely this morning."

"Really?" she smiled, looking down at herself, adjusting the tie "I d-did some shopping with Monica last weekend."

Charles pulled away from the curb, "Well she has excellent taste," he commented, remembering the feisty pink-haired woman with the intimidating aura, "As do you," he couldn't resist adding the suggestive tone to his voice.

It had the desired effect:  Sam blushing. Though it was a lighter shade of red than usual and she held an air of deviousness about her.

"You just keep digging yourself deeper, Jones" she retorted.

"I have yet to show you how deep I can go," the smug bastard.

Sam thought fast as they drove, determined to have the upper hand, "So long as you can k-keep up with your mouth, I think I'll be pleased."

"I'll endeavour to please you any way you desire."

"And what is it YOU desire?"

"Trying to shift the focus I see, how very tongue-in-cheek of you."

"It's not my cheek I want your tongue in."

She'd done it, she'd rendered him speechless; thankfully after they'd come to a stop in the parking garage.  She turned to get out, but was halted by a slight tug at her neck.  She looked back to see he'd taken ahold of her tie...or rather his tie.

"This looks awfully familiar," his voice hummed low, gaze aglow.

"It m-matches your eyes," she replied.

He pulled her in closer by way of the tie, both thrown back to the very moment she'd done the same to him, what felt like ages ago.  Their lips met and in that instant, one word flashed through Sam's mind: 'Home.'  She decided not to dwell on something so precarious, at least not when they were both balanced so delicately on a terrifying precipice.  The kiss lasted a few seconds, with Sam pulling back first this time.

"I suppose we should make our way up," Charles sighed, releasing the tie.

"Don't we have a conference call with TekTonix this morning?"

"Quite right," he nodded, and they both got out of the car.

"Good morning, charming people," Lucy greeted them warmly on walking into the office, her eyes glancing between the two.

"Hey Lucy," Sam smiled at her with a small wave.

"Good morning, Lucy," Charles nodded.

"Did you sleep alright, Charles?" asked the redhead, "You like a bit tired."

"I had to come in late last night to procure some documents for Mr. Young."

"You poor thing," Lucy pouted, "That man works you so hard, interrupting your evenings."

"Indeed," he watched Sam out of the corner of his eye, "And I'd been enjoying the most delectable dessert too."

Sam was red, Charles was smirking, and Lucy was daydreaming about licking whipped cream off of a certain delivery man as Sam and Charles went to his office.  They sat at his desk and Charles dialled in to join the virtual conference room with TekTonix.  While the call connected, Sam decided that lunch might be the best time to enact her plan as they would have the least likely chance of interruption.

When the clock struck noon, Sam got up from her chair and peered out the door, ensuring the coast was clear.  After the conference call, she'd gone to her office to get some work done..and to work up her courage.  Based on her observations, it seemed that mostly everyone in the office had gone out for lunch, so she had a bit of time.  She quietly crossed over to Charles' office, his door still partly open, and let herself in, closing and locking it behind her.

"Samara, what...?" Charles' brow furrowed at her actions.

She walked slowly toward him, biting her lip as she couldn't trust herself to speak, not realizing the effect such a motion had on Charles.  He'd pushed his chair out slightly from his desk, and was in the process of standing, when Sam pressed her hands onto his shoulders, gently forcing him back into the seat.  He watched her in silence, eyebrow raised, as she moved between him and the desk, spinning his chair with her, and kneeled.  She gently nudged his legs apart and leaned forward, her hands sliding along the tops of his thighs.

"Samara..." his voice held a cautionary tone, but his eyes spoke differently.

A sound from outside the office drew Charles' attention for a second, and Sam took advantage of the distraction.  She deftly undid his belt and reached into his pants, delighting in his surprised gasp.  She cupped the already sizeable bulge, feeling how hard he was, for her; vaguely wondering how long he'd been like this.  She gave him a few experimental strokes, then reached beneath his clothing, pulling him free of the constraints of his boxers.  His cock, standing upright from her attentions, was weeping slightly with anticipation.  Sam gripped it lightly, feeling the velvety smoothness as she languidly moved her hand up and down, getting an idea of the rhythm.  Next, remembering her 'research' - and more than a bit curious - she slid her fingers down his length to grasp the base.  She kneeled up slightly, bringing her mouth to hover over his tip, giving a solid lick around the head.  She heard him groan softly and looked up to meet his eyes as she repeated the movement, enjoying how he tasted.  He shuddered and she could have sworn his eyes rolled back when she engulfed his head within her mouth, sucking lightly.

"Fuck..." he exhaled, one hand gripping the edge of his chair while the other had woven into her hair, simply to give him something to hold on to. 

She felt herself instantly addicted to the expressions on his face.  She kept watching as she gently slid her mouth down, taking him as deeply as she could; which wasn't fully.  She did find that if she relaxed her throat muscles and swallowed around him, his body trembled beneath her and his eyelids fluttered.  On the way back up, she flattened her tongue and slid it along the underside of his shaft, feeling it throbbing with his pulse.  She began to move her head up and down in an agonizingly slow rhythm.  She could feel the fingers in her hair flex erratically as she moved, not forcing her, simply reacting.  Charles jumped, and Sam paused briefly, when a beep sounded from the phone on his desk and Lucy's voice sounded throughout the office.

"Charles, I have Mr. McNally of Petrichorp on the line for you, he says it's urgent."

Sam had a very short internal debate over what to do next.  She didn't want to stop, not when she'd seen his responses to her.  And this would likely push his self-control to the limits, not to mention it would be very enjoyable for her to see him be the flustered one for a change.  Plus, this feeling of control that she had was...empowering; further attested to by the growing dampness between her legs.  She continued, picking up the pace a bit.

"Fuck, Samara," he murmured, reaching to press a button on the phone, his breath hitching as he said "Lucy, can you t-tell him I'll-"

"Gidday Mr. Jones," came a cheerful Scottish brogue through the speaker, "How d'ya fare?"

Charles cleared his throat when he felt Sam gripping the part of his cock that her lips couldn't reach, her hand sliding up and down in time with her mouth.

"Hngh, I-I'm good, I mean well, Mr. McNally, a-and yourself?"

Sam smiled wickedly up at him on hearing him trip over his words.

"Never better," Mr. McNally replied, "I just wanted to quickly go over a wee detail on the contract with yeh."

"N-now isn't the best..." Charles had to pause when Sam swallowed around him again, "Can I c-call you back later?"

"I'm afraid not laddie," the Scotsman's tone was a touch regretful, "I'm about ta board my jet for an 8-hour flight."

"Ah I seeeeeeee," he drew out the last word when he felt Sam's tongue flick over a very sensitive area, just underneath the head of his member.

"I was jest hopin' ta clarify the wordin' where it mentions the MyEqual cluster and a guarantee of no data loss."

"Wh-what about it?" he could barely focus on the conversation, watching Sam's cheeks hollow inward as she sucked on him during an upward motion.

"Ah know yer confident in your cluster, laddie, but should somethin' go right awry, does that guarantee mean-"

Charles didn't hear a single word of the last bit, as Sam had increased both her speed and pressure, adding in a swirl of her tongue every time she reached the apex of his tip.

"I-I'm sorry, M-Mr. McN-Nally, could you r-repeat the oh fy nuw, the l-last bit?"

"Are ya alright there mah boy?"

"Peachy," he managed to get out through his clenched jaw, his hand gripping the chair arm so hard he heard it crack.

"If ya say so."

Charles could feel himself getting close, hoping the Scotsman would wrap up the conversation.

"Now as I was sayin'," Charles was practically cross-eyed, trying so very hard to listen, as he knew it would mean the end of this wretched phone call, "The guarantee.  If somethin' happens, and we do have some data loss, will-"

Charles looked down to see Sam staring right back at him as she once again took him as deeply as she could and swallowed.  That was the last straw.  He was too damn close, and too damn backed up after the 'universe' had thrown interruption after interruption his way.  His desperate voice broke across Mr. McNally's question, "I-I'm so s-sorry, Mr. McNa-ha-ally, I'll have to c-call you ba-hack, there's s-someone choking here, I might n-need to do some thrusts."

"Then I dinnae ken what yer still talkin' to me fer, laddie, go forth and rescue!"

The connection came to an abrupt close as the Scotsman hung up, the echoes of his declaration fading as Charles tried to stifle a moan, managing to press the disconnect button on his phone.  He tugged on Sam's hair lightly as he warned her, "Samara, I won't la-hast much longer."

In response, she squeezed harder and sucked.  He let the current that was her beautiful mouth pull him to his peak, made that much stronger when her lips never left his flesh, taking his release inside her as she swallowed.  Sam was completely enamoured with the way his eyes closed and his mouth hung slack when he'd climaxed, already wondering when she could next see that look on him.  His flavour lingered in her mouth as she pulled back from him, running her finger lightly along his slowly relaxing member.

"Do you feel you've taken your revenge?" he asked, breathless.

"Not even close," she smirked.

He reached down and gripped her forearms, pulling her up into a kiss.  It was a mixture of hard, teeth on lips, and tender, tongue against hers.  He drew it out into something softer, pulling away slightly to truly look at her, "You are so full of surprises, Bunty."

"Just trying to keep you on your toes," she smiled, leaning forward to kiss him once more before standing up, straightening out her shirt and blazer, re-centering the tie.

"I daresay," Charles commented as he tucked himself back into his pants, "That tie looks far better on you than it ever did on me."

"Well maybe after this weekend, you can t-take it back from me," she smiled coyly at him.

Any answer he may have given was cut short by loud knocks banging against the door.

"Charles!" came Lucy's voice, "Is Sam alright?!"

Charles gave both of their appearances a once-over then went to open the door.

"What are you going on about, Lucy?" he asked, slightly irritated.

"You said someone was choking, I assumed it was Sam," Lucy replied, eyes swinging between the two of them, Umed was standing just behind her with a smug smirk on his face.

All of the colour drained from Charles' face then, "You...you were listening?"

"Well, yes...I had to take minutes..." Lucy's voice trailed off to a mumble.

"Do you do that for all of my calls?" Charles asked, hoping she hadn't figured out what was going on.

"Only the ones with Mr. McNally," she smiled dreamily, "His accent takes me places."

"Right," Charles deadpanned, looking to Sam with an expression of utter consternation. 

Sam, for her part, was struggling to hold in her laughter, even more so when Jacob's voice sounded from somewhere in the office, "Lucy, you got some 'splainin' to doooooo."  Charles took that moment to slowly close the door on the entire conversation, hearing Sam giggle beside him.

"I must commend you, Bunty," he murmured, coming to stand in front of her, "You are quite skilled with...articulation."

"I'm a fast learner," she replied, grabbing his tie and pulling him down for a kiss.

He paused, his lips a mere inch from hers, and said, "And therefore you will be the one to call Mr. McNally back about the 'guarantee issue'," he smirked, then tugged his tie from her grasp and opened the door.

Sam's grin instantly disappeared, her anxiety taking over.  But then, for what felt like the first time in a long time, it was held at bay by a new feeling, or perhaps an old one she'd tucked away in a dark corner.  This particular feeling filled her with warmth and more than a touch of strength.  It gave her the gumption to answer Charles flippantly with, "And I'll handle it better than you," before walking tall out of his office, actually believing her own words.

"Now there's that self-confidence," Charles smiled genuinely as he watched her, feeling an odd warmth in his chest.

The rest of the day flew by at a relatively fast pace, and Sam and Charles were, once again, the last ones to leave.  Sam leaned against the doorframe of Charles' office, watching him close up for the weekend.

"Do you need a ride home, Samara?" he asked, looking up as he straightened a few things.

"I've c-called for a Ryde already because you, Mr. Jones, have a bus to catch," she answered.

Something about the familiarity of the tone, or maybe it was the way she'd addressed him, had him reflexively reaching for the ring in his pocket.  He stopped himself short, fumbling a bit with the chain, then dropping it back to the bottom of his pocket.

"That I do," he sighed.

He walked toward her and she moved so that they were stepping side by side as they left the main office, Sam locking the door behind them.  She had expected them to part ways at the elevator, but he continued walking with her toward the exit.

"I'd like to see you off, if that's alright," he said in response to her questioning expression.

"Okay," she smiled.

They stood just inside the lobby, facing each other, inches apart.  Charles' fingers twitched as he resisted the urge to reach up and stroke her cheek, the words 'I'll miss you' poised on the tip of his tongue.  In the end, he kept it in and merely said, "It will be odd not seeing you for an entire weekend."

Sam, who apparently could read him better than he’d thought, raised up on her toes and placed a light kiss on his lips, smiling as she said "I'll miss you too."

He cleared his throat and adjusted his tie, "Yes, well, I suppose I'll see you Monday?"

"I suppose," she replied cryptically, "Though you had b-better send me a text tonight when you get there, so I know you didn't die in a horrible accident or something."

Charles rolled his eyes mockingly, "Yes, dear, I'll let you know."

Sam's phone dinged then as her Ryde driver pulled up.  She reached out and gave Charles' hand a light squeeze before turning and walking out the door.  He was taken aback by how strongly this left him feeling bereft, watching her walk away.  He hadn't even had the courage to tell her he'd miss her, not that she'd needed to hear those exact words anyway.  He watched the car drive off, then made his way down to his own vehicle.  He thought back to earlier, how enthusiastically she'd approached what must have been a brand new experience for her, and how it had seemed like she was far more skilled than someone with her lack of experience should be.

"Fast learner, indeed," he chuckled to himself as he drove toward his apartment.

After Sam had gotten home and taken Bowser for a walk, she decided to stop by Marshall's and say hello.  Just outside of his door, she heard two familiar voices from within his apartment, talking to Marshall.

"Ay hermano, when's the last time we had a boys' night?" she could hear Dean ask enthusiastically.

"I can't remember," came Marshall's voice.  It sounded like he was smiling, and she was glad for it.

Marshall's other friend, 'was it Caleb?' added on with "Dean, please don't drag us to another strip club."

"Oh, Collin," - 'Collin! That was it.’ - "Don't be such a wet blanket!" Dean exclaimed.

Sam decided to leave them their boys' night and returned to her place, making a quick dinner of chicken alfredo pasta.  She then settled at her computer, intermittently eating her food as she farmed for materials in World of Warquest, waiting for the weekly guild gathering to start while her mind constantly drifted to Charles. 

Once everyone was logged in and things were underway, Sam saw a chat window pop up on her screen created by Vikki.  It was titled 'Guild Girls.'

Vixie: Hello ladies! I was thinking it might be nice to have a girls' night out this weekend!

Signy: What, you mean like manicures and gossip? >,<

Lily-chan: Ew.

Vixie: I was thinking more like the opening party for Funsylum.

Lily-chan: I can get VIP passes, bitches.

Ariadne: That sounds amazing!

Sam watched as the group name changed to 'Guild Girls night of Gaiety.'

Signy: Umm, I like boys.

Lily-chan: TRIPLE G.

Ariadne: What time should we meet there?

Lily-chan: I'll have Edgar drive us in the limo.

Edgar: It will be done.

Vixie: The party starts at 4 pm, so maybe meet at the Daily Grind for 3?

Ariadne: I'll be there!

Signy: We're gonna kick some teenage ass!
Lily-chan: Bicthes assemble!

Edgar: *Bitches.

Sam felt excited about the prospect of a girls' night, she couldn't remember the last time she'd been to one.  A loud 'ding' from her phone pulled her from her thoughts.  Glancing toward the screen, she smiled when she saw a new message from 'Charles Jones.'  She reached over and opened it, reading 'Made it safely to the hotel, surprisingly.  I can't say I particularly enjoyed that bus ride.'

She planted her tongue firmly in her cheek and replied, 'Wow big surprise, Charles doesn't like the bus.'

'I'll have you know, the bus, itself, was actually quite clean and marginally comfortable.  It was the ruffians riding on it that made me consider flinging myself out a window on more than one occasion."

Sam let out a laugh at that one, then saw another message come in from Charles, "May I call you? Once you've finished your World of Warquest, that is."

A full-blown grin broke across her face at the knowledge that he had remembered her Friday night routine.  She quickly looked to her monitor to make sure she wouldn't be needed for a second, then typed in, "How about I call you once it's done?"

She then had to quickly jump in and help her teammates with a fight – that Dallas had started - so she wasn't able to see his answer until a few minutes later.  It read, "I'll wait up for you."

She couldn't say why, but for some reason his answer made her feel giddy. 

Later, when she and her guild-mates had said goodbye, each logging off, Sam picked up her phone and moved to sit on the couch.  Bowser jumped up beside her and lay across her lap on his back, wiggling his paws in the air, begging for pets.

"Alright, alright," she sighed, rubbing his belly with one hand while calling Charles with the other.

He picked up on the second ring, "Good evening, Samara."

It sounded to her like he was smiling, "Hi Charles."

"Ahp!" Bowser added excitedly.

"Give the little chap a pat for me," Charles laughed, having heard his tiny Welsh compatriot, "And how fared your questing?"

"Pretty successful actually, we were recently named as the third-ranked raiding guild on our server."

"Congratulations, and does your guild have a name?"

"The Rare Spawns," her cheeks reddened minutely, not that he would see.

"Clever," he chuckled, "Very fitting name, considering your uniqueness."

"Why, M-Mister Jones, was that a compliment?"

"Merely an observation."

"I see," she replied, then asked, "So is the tournament tomorrow?"

"The qualifying rounds are," he replied, she thought she heard him stifling a yawn, "Then in the evening we have to participate in the overdone tradition of attending a banquet, complete with a stuffy keynote speaker."

"Sounds dreadful," she replied, affecting an accent like his for the latter word.

"Well considering they've asked me to deliver the keynote address, I'm quite certain it will be."

"Charles! What are you t-talking about, that's a pretty big deal! And besides, I'd say you're the opposite of stuffy!"

"Full of hot air? Pardon me, full of cold air?" he teased.

"Well you're c-certainly full of something," she joked.

"Pomp and circumstance?"

"Among other things," her brain chose that moment to bring forth an image of his face as she'd brought him to climax earlier that day, the memory of his taste on her tongue.

"Samara?" She blushed as she realized she had been too distracted to hear him talking.

"S-sorry, what were you saying?"

"Mind elsewhere, Bunty?" she could hear him smirking, "Perhaps I'm being too stuffy for you?"

"Oh just stuff it," she replied.

"And what is it you would like me to stuff, Samara?" his voice was so deep, her phone vibrated.

'Your cock inside of me!' shouted her Lusty mind.  Out loud, she said, "I'll t-tell you on Monday."

"Made plans already, have you?" 

"W-ell you'll likely be tired when you come back Sunday, right?" 

"Very likely," he agreed, "And it sounds like I'm going to need my stamina."

Sam clenched her hand into a fist and pressed it against her forehead to slow the steamy images currently bombarding the backs of her eyelids.  She must have stayed silent for too long, as he continued, "Perhaps I shouldn't tease you so much, especially if it means I'm denied the pleasure of hearing your voice."

That eased her mind a bit, "My voice? There's not really a-anything special about it."

"I've grown accustomed to it, all the same," his tone had gone soft.

"Well you're the one with the accent, and it takes me places."

They both laughed at that, Charles' turning into a yawn.

"You should go to sleep," she admonished lightly.

"Indeed," he replied, "As should you."

"I will.  Sleep well, Charles."

"Sweet dreams, Bunty."

Charles hung up and placed his phone on the bedside table.  He lay back on the bed, pulling off his glasses and rubbing his eyes.  He then let out a deep sigh as he stared at the ceiling, trying to think about anything other than Sam.  Apparently his brain wasn't listening as it brought up memory after memory of her: at work, as friends, laughing, being intimate, telling him he was special to her.  He turned off the lamp as he closed his eyes in an attempt to get some sleep.  She was there too; her eyes, her voice, her smile, leading him to utter two words, "...Fuck me." 

Chapter Text

Music suggestion: At the words "To hell with it" https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gHjnGbNBuAw

Sam got up the next morning, her mind firmly on the Welshman who was several cities away and their conversation the previous night.  She had actually had a relatively decent rest, and she partly wondered if it had been because she'd gotten to hear his voice right before sleeping.  After breakfast and walking Bowser, she decided to spend a few hours working on Evermake.  The time flew by until, at around 1 o'clock, a knock sounded on her door.  She got up and opened it to see two very ill-looking men.

"Hi M-Marshall, Dean....you guys don't look so good," she commented, gesturing for them to come in.

"I blame Dean," groaned Marshall as he walked past her, sitting on the couch, “He ran around like an idiot all over town, all night. I don’t think I slept at all.”

"I blame the Absinthe," Dean stated, index finger in the air as he joined Marshall on the couch, swinging his legs up onto Marshall's lap.

Sam peered out into the hallway, then stepped back in, closing the door behind her, asking "What about Callum?"

"Collin," corrected Marshall as he rubbed his forehead, "He hasn't woken up yet...he might be dead."

"Dead to the world, anyway," Dean added.

"We came for your miracle meds," Marshall said, looking up at Sam, squinting in the bright light.

"...You mean Advil?" she crossed her arms, amused.

"It's ibuprofenomenalllllll," trilled Dean.

"Extra-strength painkillers coming right up," she said as she went to retrieve them from her medicine stash.

She came back to find Marshall hip-deep in her fridge.  She walked over and swung the door open wider, to see him holding up a container of some soup left over from the batch she'd made Charles, as if it were the Holy Grail.  His eyes were wide and blinking fast, and she could have sworn she saw a drop of drool fall from his mouth.

"Is....is this what I think it is?" he whispered.

"What?" asked Dean, trying to peer over from the couch.

"Yes..." answered Sam, suddenly finding herself subjected to Marshall's puppy dog stare.

"Sam, gib, please," he pouted.

"Fine, it's yours," she rolled her eyes.

"All my base are belong to you," he said reverently, giving an overexaggerated bow.

"What's so good about-" Dean had come over from the sofa, but was cut off when Marshall smooshed his hand over the Latino man's mouth.

"Dean, you have to try this.  I swear it will cure whatever ails you," Marshall exclaimed, heading for the door, cradling the container of soup in his arms like he would Dinah.

"Even if it's you that's ailing me?" retorted Dean, pausing to blow Sam a kiss before following Marshall out.

She closed the door on their antics, laughing to herself.  She was glad to see Marshall smiling and joking around, seemingly much better than when she'd last spoken to him.  She went to her computer to ensure that her work on Evermake was saved and backed up, then decided to browse her clothes for an outfit for Triple G (Guild Girls night of Gaiety).  She wanted to be relatively comfortable, since the arcade had active games like laser tag, rock climbing, and bumper cars.  As she held two fairly similar shirts up together for comparison, she heard her phone chime with the receipt of a text message.  She felt her heart leap slightly, thinking it was a certain Welsh flirt, but was disappointed when she saw it was just a generic message from her cell phone provider offering her a coupon for charm bracelets from Amizone.  She was about to put the phone down when a thought struck her:  Why does he need to be the one to text first?'  She opened her text conversation with Charles, and typed in 'Hope the qualifiers are going well!', then dropped her phone into her bag.  She opted for the dark green quarter-length sleeve shirt that reached down to her knees, pairing it with black leggings and her sneakers.  A time check showed her that it was nearing 2 o'clock, so she figured she would start heading to the Daily Grind.  She filled up Bowser's food dish on her way out, then jumped slightly when her phone sounded in her bag.  She unlocked it to see a response from Charles, her face lighting up on seeing his name, 'Three of the miscreants from my fencing club will be moving on to tomorrow's rounds, much to my dismay.'

She laughed lightly, then said 'Isn't that a good thing?'  

His reply was almost instantaneous, 'It means I don't get to go home early and, instead, have to spend another miserable day babysitting these delinquents.'

She smirked and answered, 'Wow, you're really living up to the name of 'Cantankerous Old Goat.'

He didn't answer right away, so Sam put the phone on vibrate and placed it back in her bag.  She said goodbye to Bowser just before stepping out and locking the door.  She was down the stairs and out the main entrance, soon walking into the Daily Grind.  Angela and Vikki were already at the counter, so Sam walked up and stood beside them.

"Hey lady," Dee smiled and jerked her thumb toward Vikki and Angela, "I hear you're going to Funsylum with these two weirdos."

"Hi Dee," Sam returned, "I am! Olivia is coming with us too."

"Sounds like a great time! What can I get you to drink?"

"Hmmm, surprise me."

"Bold choice," commented Vikki as she winked at Sam.

Sam stood on her tiptoes to peer over her friend's shoulder, seeing Angela seeming to be having a hushed conversation with Link, the redhead's cheeks tinged pink.  Sam refocused on Vikki and raised an eyebrow, her dark-haired friend responding by bringing a finger to her lips in a silent shushing motion.  Sam nodded then said, "I'm so excited for this girls' night."

"Same," smiled Vikki, "It's been a while since we all had a night out."

Dee placed their drinks on the counter: Angela's smoothie, Vikkie's hazelnut latte, and Sam's 'surprise' which turned out to be an incredibly smooth iced coffee with a subtly sweet aftertaste she couldn't quite identify.

"Caramel?" she asked, looking at Dee.

"Nope," replied her friend, amused, "Keep guessing."

"I'll think on it," Sam smiled, moving with Vikki and Angela to sit at a table.

A few seconds after sitting on the bench, Sam felt her bag vibrate.  She took out her phone and saw that Charles had texted back, "Thank you, very much for that.  One of the little blighters was looking over my shoulder when you responded, so now the whole bus is chanting 'Cantankerous Old Goat'...I'm not sure they'll all make it back in once piece."

Sam let out a giggle, attracting the attention of her two friends.

"Did Jay text you another poop joke?" asked Angela with a lop-sided grin.

"N-no," stammered Sam.

"Oooo so it's a crush then?" Vikki beamed.

"I...no it's not!" Sam replied, a little too loudly.

"Our Sam-Sam has a cruuuuush," teased Angela.

"Is it Marshall?" asked Dee, having come over to see if they needed anything.

"Ah, no," Sam blushed.

"Too bad," shrugged Dee, "You two would be cute together."

"WAIT," Angela declared, her hands out in front of her, "It's that weird dude from London, isn't it?"

"Wales," corrected Sam, "And he's not weird, he's just...different."

"Whatever," Angela waved a hand dismissively, "Just be careful, okay?"

"Sam already said he makes her feel safe," interjected Vikki, "I trust her judgement."

"Do you have a pic?" asked Dee.

Sam had to think for a second before answering, "A-actually no, I don't...but I think he has one on his LinkedOn profile."

She quickly unlocked her phone and found Charles' profile, turning the screen so her friends could see.

"Wow," said Angela, "I take back the 'sketchy' comment."

"Oh my," exhaled Vikki.

"Hoo boy," smirked Dee, "You're screwed."

"I wish," grumbled Sam, eyes instantly widening as she heard the words slip out of her mouth of their own free will.

"WHAT?!" Angela practically yelled.

"How about you give us some details, Sam?" smirked Vikki.

"Uhhh...." Sam was saved by the 'ding' or 'bzz' of all three of their phones receiving a text from Olivia, who they could see giving them the finger from the window of her limo outside.

'Get in losers, we're going ass-kicking.'

Angela fist-pumped, Vikki smiled excitedly, and Sam laughed as they got up from their table.

"We'll see you later, Dee! Bye Link!" called Sam as she followed the other two out the door.  She paused at the threshold and turned back to Dee, raising her drink, “Is it English toffee?”

“Bingo,” smiled Dee.

On the ride to Funsylum, the girls talked about what games they wanted to play, what their player handles would be, and what prizes they'd go for.  Amidst the planning, Sam took a second to check her phone and saw another message from Charles, 'Iesu mawr, they've shortened it to 'COG' and have been calling me that nonstop...and you wonder why I despise taking the bus.'

Sam chuckled quietly and quickly replied, 'Aww poor COG, it can't be that bad.'

She smiled from ear to ear as she changed Charles' name in her phone to Cantankerous Old Goat, unaware that a certain dark-haired yogi was watching her with an amused eye.  Charles' response was fast again, 'You will pay for that.'

She decided to put her phone away and rejoin the conversation, thinking on a reply for Charles.

"Should we start with Lasertag? Or warm up first?" Angela was asking.

"Warm up first," said Olivia, "Edgar needs the practice."

The line for Funsylum was incredibly long, but one simple nod from Olivia to the staff, and they were in.  They gazed around in wonder at the arcade, it all looked so bright and shiny and...untouched.  They tried out some of the arcade games first, racking up large amounts of points.  Next, at Angela's insistence, they went for the rock-climbing walls.  Sam opted to boulder near the bottom while Vikki yoga-moved her way up some advanced routes, including an upside-down area.  Angela was racing Edgar to the top, the latter of whom had Olivia on his shoulders, egging him on.  Angela practically leapt up the last two handholds and smacked her hand in triumph on top of the wall, turning to gloat to Olivia.  Instead, her jaw dropped when she saw Olivia and Edgar already sitting on the top.  

"Just what I'd expect from a slow-ass tank," taunted Olivia.

"Rematch!" Angela declared.

"Later!" called Vikki from below them, "Lasertag is about to start!"

Angela quickly rappelled down, thanking her belayer at the bottom, then joined Sam and Vikki while Olivia and Edgar descended the stairs beside the wall.  They all went over to the doors that would lead into the Lasertag area, and gave the staff running it their requested nicknames.

Sam:  Ruminator

Vikki:  The Guruler

Angela:  Tank Gurl

Olivia:  TwatSlayer

Edgar:  Edgar

They went in and suited up, activating their guns and getting ready for the starting lights, which would flash rapidly 3 times in succession.  Sam ran up a few ramps, searching for a dark corner to crouch in, listening for the sound of others’ footsteps.  Then, the lights flashed, the game was underway, and chaos ensued.  Noise erupted, a mixture of pounding feet, shouts, sad beeps from the laser guns, and an endless train of kids yelling ‘Yeet!’  Several times during the melee, Sam heard Angela yell, "What the hell, Olivia!"

Or Vikki, "She's so fast!"

Sam lost count of the number of times her weapon display read 'You've been tagged by TwatSlayer.'

In the midst of a battle against a group of teens, Sam's back pressed to Vikki's while they fought as truced allies, the lights suddenly came on and the game was over.  They all filed out, dropping off guns and vests, gathering to see the highest scores.  Sam let out a "Woo" to see that she was in sixth place, with Vikki in fourth, Angela third, Edgar second, and to one's surprise, Olivia in first place by a landslide.

"'Twat slayer indeed," smiled Vikki as the others laughed.

The group all froze suddenly when a younger child who had been standing nearby, turned to his mother and said, "Mommy, what's a twat?"

"L-let's go get some frozen yogurt," suggested Sam hurriedly as she headed for the snack area, the rest quickly following.

Once they had their frozen yogurt, Sam turned to Angela and asked, "So, how's it going with Link?"

Angela almost choked on her chocolate-flavoured dessert, taking a second to swallow it before answering, "What do you mean?" 

"It's okay, Angela, I saw you two," assured Sam, "I think it's cute."

"Agreed," smiled Vikki.

"The twat and the beast," commented Olivia, following it up with "You're the beast, obvs."

"Whatever, it's not like we're dating," Angela tried to brush it off, "Besides, what about Sam and her Englishman?"

"Welshman," corrected Vikki.

"Sure.  What's happening there?" asked Angela.

"W-we're getting to know each other," Sam blushed.

"That's excellent" Vikki declared, giving Sam's hand a squeeze.

"Just watch he doesn't slip his banger into your ma-" started Angela, but Sam cut her off with an abrupt subject change, pointing, "Ooo look! We can get our photo taken!"

She led them over to the setup and they took a group photo together; Angela flexing, Olivia giving the finger, Edgar being Edgar, Vikki making a heart with her hands, and Sam smiling happily.

"Ok," said Angela, "Edgar, I want a rematch now."

As the rest went to the climbing wall, Sam hung back, having figured out what to text Charles.  She opened the conversation and typed 'Better be careful, you know what my revenge is like.'  As she approached the wall, Angela and Edgar both already halfway up, she felt the phone vibrate and saw Charles' reply of 'All the more reason to provoke you, Bunty.'

Her cheeks reddened, prompting Vikki to tease her, "Sam, you look a bit flushed, are you warm?"

"I'm fine," she squeaked in response.

When they all finally decided they were ready for home, coinciding with the place being packed, it was about 9 pm.  The girls waited outside while Edgar brought the limo around, and Angela brought up Charles again, "So, what exactly is he to you?"

Sam didn't know how to answer that, but Olivia did, "He's the just-right twat."

The three taller girls all turned to stare at Olivia.

"W-what?" asked Sam.

"Samdilocks and the Three Twats?" Olivia said by way of explanation.  She rolled her eyes when the other three only looked further confused, typing madly into her phone, "One day, Samdilocks stumbled upon three twats.  Twat the first friendzoned her."

"Ouch," commented Angela.

"Twat the second," continued Olivia, "Had his head too far up his own ass to see Samdilocks...plus he's too soft."

"Marshall?" Vikki mouthed to Sam, who shrugged.

"And twat the third, the British ghost we've never met, was just right."

"Olivia," Vikki murmured, "That was actually kind of...sweet."

"Ah, shove it," replied Olivia, followed by "Love you."

Sam mulled over what Olivia had said the whole ride back to the Daily Grind.  Once they’d gotten out, Sam, Angela, and Vikki all waved goodbye to Olivia as she stood up through the sun roof, doubly flipping them the bird as the limo drove away.  Sam pulled out her phone to check for messages, a movement that Vikki caught, asking "So what exactly are you two texting about?"
Angela leaned in, also curious.

"I...well he's been flirting with me," Sam blushed.  She proceeded to tell them about the texts and the phone call the previous night.  She jumped suddenly when Vikki grabbed her shoulders, her eyes alight as she said "You should send him a boudoir photo."

"Excuse me?" asked Sam, eyebrow raised.

"She means a naughty pic," added Angela, "Is that really such a good idea though? Letting him see you like that?"

"Sam," Vikki's tone was firm, "Do you like him?"

"I...he's very special to me," Sam got out.

"Does he make you feel safe?"

"Without question," Sam nodded.

"Do you trust him?"

"Completely."

"Then what are you waiting for?"

"I-I suppose he has already seen plenty of me."

"What?!" both of her friends exclaimed.

Sam then gave them some details of her moments with Charles.

"Damn girl," commented Angela.

"Well done," Vikki waggled her brows.

"But still, I...I don't even know how to take a...'b-boudoir' photo."

"We'll help you!" exclaimed Vikki, "Let's go to your place!"

On the way to her apartment, Sam had a thought, which she voiced aloud, "I d-don't exactly have any sexy clothes."

"Hmmm," Angela stroked her chin, "I could stop by our place and grab some?"

"Oh wait," Sam had a sudden idea take form, "I'll ask Monica."

She pulled out her phone, then saw her friends' puzzled looks, "Oh, she's Marshall's girlfriend, or was anyway...we've grown c-close."

"Then we'd love to meet her," smiled Vikki.

Sam dialed her pink-haired friend, hearing the latter pick up the phone after two rings.

"Hey kiddo, what's up?"

"H-hi Monica.  Umm, well, I..." she wasn't entirely sure how to phrase her answer.

Angela grabbed the phone and finished her sentence for her, "We're helping Sam take a sexy pic for her British boy, but she doesn't have lingerie."

"You had me at 'sexy pic'," Monica's voice came through the speaker, "I'll be there in 20."

The call ended with a click, and the three friends laughed as they continued walking.

Once in Sam's apartment, Bowser cuddled happily in Vikki's arms, they all worked on tidying up the bedroom a bit, rearranging things slightly for 'optimal photogenicness,' as Angela put it.  When they heard a knock, Sam opened the door to see Monica, holding several full bags and a very fancy-looking camera.

"I'm borrowing it from a photographer friend," she explained on seeing Sam's interested look at the device.

Monica placed the bags on the couch, looking up to see two other women walk into the living room.

"Monica, these are t-two of my good friends, Angela and Vikki," Sam introduced; Angela nodded and Vikki waved.

"Guys," continued Sam, "This is my other good friend, Monica."

"Hey ladies," smiled Monica.

Sam stared at the ground then, suddenly feeling very awkward.

"Why don't we take a look at some of the things I brought for you to try on?" Monica suggested, noting Sam's grateful smile, "Or better yet...fashion show?"

Angela let out a "Woop!" and Vikki clapped.  Sam was about to say 'no', but the then thought 'why not?' and grabbed one of the bags Monica was holding out to her. 

After an hour or so of laughing, blushing, and confidence boosting, they had narrowed it down to three outfits:  a black lace bodysuit with high hip lines and a plunging V-neck, a dark red two-piece lace set, complete with matching garter belt and stockings, and a sheer deep lilac babydoll dress that left little to the imagination.

"What do you think, kiddo?" asked Monica, gauging Sam's reactions.

"I...I think I feel most comfortable in the p-purple one," said Sam after some consideration.

 "I agree," nodded Vikki.

"Defs," added Angela, making an A-OK sign with her fingers.

"Ok," Monica clapped her hands, "Now poses.  Makes sense to shoot a 'boudoir' photo in the boudoir, oui?"

All four of them moved to Sam's bedroom, Vikki and Angela standing behind where Monica would be positioned.  Sam sat on the bed while Monica prepped the camera, taking a few test shots of Bowser, who had warmed up to her immediately.

"Now, let's see," she said, thumb under her chin as she considered Sam, "Can we let your hair down?"

"Sure," nodded Sam, pulling out the tie that held up her chestnut locks, running her fingers loosely through the strands.

"Gorgeous!" exclaimed Monica.

"R-really?" Sam blushed, "Even without makeup?"

"Even more so," beamed Monica, not able to see the megawatt smiles of appreciation directed her way from Vikki and Angela, "So personally, for you, I'm thinking something subtly sexy, a pose that not only captures your nature, but also displays it.  What do you guys think?" Monica asked, turning to the two other girls.

"Definitely," nodded Vikki, "Nothing too overt."

"And nothing too lewd," added Angela.

"How about a sideways kneeling position Sam? Oh perfect! Now bite your lip and tilt your head downward just slightly...okay look up at me through your lashes.  Oh honey, you're a natural.  Okay, put your left hand on your lap and bring your right hand up to play with a piece of hair."

Sam followed Monica's instructions, surprised when her pink-haired friend stated, "Sam if you ever want to model, you let me know.  You'd give those runway girls a run for their money."

Monica snapped a few shots, pausing when Vikki cried, "Wait!" stepping forward to slide the left strap of Sam's outfit to hang loosely off her shoulder.

"Perfection," smiled Monica as she took more photos.

"Damn, Sam," grinned Angela, "Think you'd be interested in being our third for the manslayer cosplay?"

"I-I'll think about it," Sam replied, stunning everyone present...including herself.

After Monica took what felt like a thousand pictures, Sam threw on some PJ's and they all went to look through the reel on Sam's computer.  Scrolling through, Sam pointed to one she particularly liked, completely flabbergasted by how she looked...she found she was actually liking her body a bit more.

"This one," she breathed.

"Hundo P," agreed Angela.

"The blush on your cheeks makes it," said Vikki.

"Excellent choice," smirked Monica, sliding over on the chair so Sam could sit beside her, "Now email it to yourself and open it on your phone."

Sam did so, marvelling again at the image her friends had helped her paint of herself.  She quickly typed up a response to Charles, 'Are you sure you want to provoke me?' and attached the photo, looking up to her friends who all nodded in support.  She squeezed her eyes shut and hit the send button; it was done.

"Thank you guys," Sam smiled, "I don't think I would have been able t-to come up with that on m-my own."

"Anytime you need anything, Sam, you let us know," Vikki beamed.

"I think maybe it's time for us to leave you alone," Monica winked, "For when loverboy responds."

Sam blushed and the others laughed.  Angela and Vikki went to grab their things and Sam went to retrieve Monica's lingerie, holding out the purple material, "Thank you Monica, really."

"Not a problem, Sam.  And hey, you keep that one! And these ones too," Monica handed her the red and black outfits from Sam's top three selections, "I honestly don't think I've ever worn them.  Besides, they just look too good on you."

Sam’s cheeks reddened as she whispered a heartfelt, “Thanks,” cradling the clothing to her chest.  She watched as Monica's expression became a shy one, her voice soft, "Marshall and I are meeting for coffee this week.  We're going to start getting to know each other."

"Monica, that's great!" exclaimed Sam, "And if you're looking for a good spot, some friends of mine run The Daily Grind near here."

"Yeah, Marshall mentioned that place too."

The two smiled at one another and Monica grabbed the camera and her bags.

"Can we walk you out, Monica?" asked Vikki from the door, "It'll give us time to exchange numbers."

"I would love that," replied Monica, smiling ear to ear.

She turned to Sam before exiting, "I want details, ya hear?"

"Me too!" added Vikki.

"Same," Angela agreed.

"Well m-maybe we can all meet up a-again soon and catch up," suggested Sam.

All three women answered in the affirmative, waving as they walked down the hallway, Angela offering to carry some of Monica's things.  Sam watched until they were out of sight, smiling at seeing them interacting so easily.  After she closed the door, she heard a ringing sound come from her room.  She couldn't help but feel butterflies as she went to answer her phone.

Charles was trying very hard to excuse himself from a debate on fencing technique so that he could go back to his hotel room.  The banquet dinner had ended, the dancing had started, and he had no interest in interacting with the already inebriated guests.  Much to his chagrin, one of the mothers of a rival team member had seemed to have him in her sights.  She'd been shamelessly flirting, clearly trying to get herself invited back to his room with him.  It wasn't that she was unattractive, she was actually quite pretty, if not wearing a tad too much makeup, but Charles had only one person on his mind, and was eager to speak with her again - not that he'd ever admit it.

"Do you want to get out of here?" the woman attempting to seduce him asked, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

"Yes, I very much do," he replied tersely.

"My room or yours?"

Charles sighed, mustering up one of his icier glares, "I shall be retiring to my room.  I suggest you pick a more willing target, like that gent over there," he gestured to a man whose eyes seemed to be glued to the woman in front of him.  Said woman looked over her shoulder, then turned her head back to reply, but stopped when she saw that the beautiful blond man had disappeared, pouting in disappointment.  Charles, meanwhile, had managed to get away unnoticed, and felt his phone vibrate in his pocket on his way to the coat check.  He automatically smiled as he saw 'Samara Young' flash across the screen, passing his ticket to the coat check staff.  He opened the text, and his jaw immediately dropped upon seeing the photo within, her accompanying words doing nothing to quell the almost instant feeling of desire that overtook him.  He noted a sudden tightness in his pants, which he tried to hide with some subtle readjustment.

"Sir? Sir are you alright?"

He was pulled momentarily from his trance by his jacket being offered to him.  He grabbed it, muttering a quick thanks, then made straight for his room, opting to take the stairs as it would be faster.  His door closed behind him and already, he was loosening his tie as he swiped right on Sam's number, calling her.

She answered on the third ring, "H-hi Charles."

"I saw your photo," he tried to keep his tone neutral.

"Oh, d-did you like it?" the hopeful excitement in her voice broke through some of his well-crafted shields.

"Samara, you are breathtaking."

He heard her exhale in surprise, then "W-well I had help from some friends."

"Then remind me to thank them profusely," Charles stated, sitting in an armchair in the corner of his room.  "I must say," he continued, "I rather like this side of you."

"Bold?" asked she.

"Confident," said he.

"You've helped m-me quite a bit with that," she said shyly.

Charles was quiet a moment as he pondered his next words, then thought 'to hell with it,' speaking "Samara, I wonder if you might indulge me?"

"Anything, Charles," her voice was breathy.

"I'd like you to lie down on your bed and get comfortable.  Let me know when you've done so."

He heard some rustling sounds, then a soft "I'm in bed."

"Now," he didn't realize it, but his voice had dropped an octave, reverberating through Sam's phone and flaring straight to her core, "Put me on speakerphone, you'll need your hands."

She did so, a light echo casting over her voice when she confirmed.

"I'd like you to take your left hand and slide it beneath your shirt," he spoke deliberately, in a lightly commanding tone.

"I-I'm not wearing a shirt," replied Sam, having removed her clothing when he'd asked her to lie down, "Or anything at all."

"Iesu mawr," he groaned, having to undo his trousers to relieve the tension on the fabric caused by his very solid erection.  He cleared his throat and said, "Then use your left hand to cup your breast and hold your nipple between your finger and thumb."

"Okay," she exhaled.

"Now pinch lightly and tug, then roll it; I want you to imagine it's me doing this to you."

"I...I already was."

Again, he had to mentally regain control of himself, fingers digging into the arms of his chair as he stammered slightly, "N-now take your other hand and slide it downward, below your navel, as if it were me exploring every inch of your skin; just as I will do as soon as I have the chance."

Her responding soft sigh made his cock twitch, and he said, "Touch yourself, Bunty, please," his voice breaking slightly.

"Touch where?" she asked with a hint of tease.

"Touch your clit and imagine it's my tongue," he rasped, unable to stop himself from reaching down to pull his length from his boxer briefs, giving it a few languid strokes.

Her responding moan told him she'd done as directed.  Before he could instruct her further, her voice sounded through the phone, heady with need, "Ch-Charles, I w-want you to touch yourself too.  Pretend it's me using my mouth, like yesterday."

Charles clenched his jaw to prevent himself from finishing early, having been caught off guard.

"As you wish, Samara," he replied, taking a deep breath, "Now, I'd like you to remove your hand from your breast and use it to slide two fingers inside of yourself, just as I've done for you."

A few seconds passed, then "Mmm, Charles."

He inhaled sharply, increasing his speed on himself, "Move those fingers in and out slowly, pretend they're mine, with my voice...in...out...in...out...start increasing the rhythm."  The sounds he was eliciting from her had him unconsciously adding more pressure and momentum to his own self-ministrations, "Envision your other hand as my own, rubbing circles over your clit."

"You f-feel so good," she sighed.

"What I wouldn't give to taste you right now," he murmured, barely registering the words passing his lips, his hand stroking quickly along his cock, from base to tip and back; the premature fluid leaking from the head acting as lubrication.
Her next query, voice trembling with the vibrato of someone on the edge, threw him, “How would you taste me?”

He stifled a groan and said, “Fully, and deeply.  My tongue would write poetry over your clit, punctuated by thrusting it inside of you.”

“F-fuck,” she whispered faintly.

He wasn't sure how much longer he could hold out, especially as he could hear her breathing picking up into shallow pants, accentuated by her moans.

"How do you feel, Samara?"

"I..I'm getting close."

"Add a third finger, and increase the pressure on your clit, as if my lips were closing around it tightly."

"Ooohhhh," she groaned.

Just as with the last time she'd touched herself, Sam felt her hands suddenly gaining minds of their own, their motions summoning the warm coiling sensation in her belly.

"Charles, I..mmm, I-I'm going to..."

"Come for me, Samara," his voice was almost pleading as he, too, toed the edge of his own climax.

He heard her cry out in ecstasy, a sound he had been coming to adore, and joined her, his own rough moan lending harmony to the melody of their pleasure in concert.  Sam smiled as she heard her name escape his lips in the form of a hushed mantra, regaining her breath as she listened to his slow.  After a few more seconds of silence, she spoke, "That was...hmm" she hummed, "And with only your voice."

"Very soon," he heard her clear her throat, "You will feel all of me."

"Not soon enough," she sighed, a small yawn escaping her.

"Indeed," he chuckled, "I think perhaps now it's time for you to go to sleep."

"You too," she said firmly.

"Goodnight, Bunty, sweet dreams."

"Sleep well, Charles."

Sam hung up the phone and dropped it onto the bed beside her.  She took a second to mentally re-experience the sensations she had just felt, the sound of his voice telling her what to do...it was exhilarating.  He'd taken her to new heights merely with words, imagine what he could do in person...she shook her head and got up to go to the bathroom and wash up.  Once back in her comfy PJ's, she fell into her bed where she fell asleep almost immediately, her satiation serving as a guide into slumber.

After Charles hung up the phone on his end, he had another long look at the picture Sam had sent him.  He thought the lingerie she was wearing suited her perfectly, the colour complementing her complexion.  Not to mention the fact that he could see so much of her...and it was only for his eyes.  He started to ponder on the possibilities of her wearing things like this on a regular basis, wondering if perhaps she had already and he hadn’t known it.  He found himself strongly feeling the need to be on the other side of that statement, mentally making a note to ask her about it.  Before he could get too carried away with his thoughts, he went to have a quick shower before slipping on his navy PJ's and sliding beneath the duvet.  As his eyes drifted shut, he permitted himself to imagine what it would like with her, in person.  To feel her around him, under him, above him...the feel of her skin, the touch of her tongue, the twist of her lips.  The warmth in her eyes, the sound of her laugh, the way she looked at him.  He would have scolded himself for allowing his mind to wander so far, except he was already in the grips of his dreams; accepting the warm embrace of their lulling promises.

Chapter Text

Music suggestion: At the words "After Charles had parked outside Sam's building" https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nnEyGS3Hf9A

Sam woke up feeling incredibly refreshed, partly wondering if the previous night had been a dream.  A quick peek at her call history revealed that it had, in fact, happened and she knew she had, in fact, been incredibly turned on.  She brought her fingers to her lips and slowly slid them down to rest on her collarbones, absentmindedly rubbing the skin there as she recalled Charles' voice telling her what to do.  Phone sex had never crossed her mind in the past, but that was now something she was glad she would no longer be oblivious to.  She let out a huff and showered, completing her morning routine on autopilot as she was currently preoccupied.  Once dried and dressed, she grabbed a granola bar and turned to Bowser, saying "You ready for a walk, boy?"

He barked excitedly, just barely sitting still long enough for her to attach his lead.  He practically leapt out the door, tugging at his leash, urging Sam to go faster.  When they got to Bowser's favourite dog park, she let him run off leash for a bit, watching him interact with other dogs.  She looked around and saw a couple sitting together on one of the benches, holding hands.  Sam wondered if Charles would ever do something like that with her, or if it was a strict no-no because it was too 'relationshippy.'  A buzz of her phone pulled her from her reverie, and she saw she had one new message from 'Cantankerous Old Goat,' snorting as she remembered changing it the previous day.  It was noon, so Charles was likely on a lunch break, and probably bored.  She opened the text and read, 'Mind if I call?  Unless you've yet to extract yourself from bed, that is.'

She stuck her tongue out at the message and called him instead, listening to it ring on the other end.

"Good afternoon, Bunty."

His voice, even now, instigated the spread of goosebumps across her skin, "Afternoon, COG," she smiled, "How are the finals? Are you winning?"

"First off, rude," he responded in a mock offended tone, "Secondly, yes, two of our competitors will be moving on to the championship round."

"Charles, that's awesome," she grinned, "You must be proud of them."

"Proud is the nicest of the words I would use to describe how I feel about them," he grumbled, though she could hear the undertone of satisfaction.  He couldn't fool her.

"When is the final round?" she asked, bending down to pick up and throw the stick Bowser had brought her.

"It begins at 4 pm, which means I won't be home until late."

"Well, I'd still like to know when you are."

"Worried about me, Bunty?" she could hear the smirk in his voice.

"I'd hate to have to find a new boss."

"Touche."

"So what will you...be..doing..." she trailed off as she heard what sounded like a bunch of voices in the background chanting "COG! COG! COG!" followed by one of the kids yelling "Hey COG! Let's see if you CAN TANK this!"

"CACHU, iesu mawr, Samara, I have to g-"

Sam stared at the phone in her hand, dial tone sounding after Charles had disconnected mid-sentence.  Her mouth twisted in amusement and she couldn't stop herself from laughing out loud, heartily.  She wiped the tears from her eyes and saw Bowser sitting at her feet, happily wagging his tail as he looked up at her.  She saw he had dropped something on the ground and leaned forward to pick it up.  She froze, hand pausing inches away from what was most certainly an entire potato, as if it had just been picked from a garden.  She raised an eyebrow at Bowser, and he gave an "Ahp!" in response.  Sam shrugged and threw the potato for him.  

On the way back to her apartment, Sam stopped at the Daily Grind, bringing Bowser in with her.

"Well there's my good boi," Dee cooed from behind the counter, receiving a madly wagging tail in response, "And how are you, Sam?"

"I'm good, thanks Dee.  How are you doing?"

"I'm doing really well actually," Dee smiled, "Can I make you the usual?"

"Yes please," nodded Sam, "Anything in particular that has you s-so smiley?"

"I've started seeing someone," Dee blushed, causing Sam to grin.

"And?"

"She's so amazing, Sam.  Kind, sweet, funny, and she works at that new art gallery, 'Kunst'."

"She sounds great, Dee."

"I...I think I really like her," Dee's look turned thoughtful, her cheeks rouged as she finished making Sam's drink, placing it on the counter.

"Then I w-would really like to meet her," Sam smiled.

"And perhaps you will," beamed Dee, "Now tell me about your British boy."

"W-well, we've been talking on the phone a lot.  He's been at a fencing conference all weekend," Sam blushed.

"Oooo a fencer? Intriguing."

"And we'll next be...spending time together tomorrow night."

"Well Sam, congrats!" Dee made a cheersing motion toward her with a water bottle, "I'm really happy for you."

"Thanks," Sam replied, sipping her cafe mocha, mind lingering briefly on the memory of Charles admitting his aversion to attachments in the wake of Dee's 'congrats'.

"It's a good thing it's slow today," commented Dee.

Sam looked into the kitchen area behind the coffee bar, finally noticing how empty it was, "Where's Link?" she asked.

"He asked to take a longer lunch, so I let him.  I think he's on a date, to be honest with you."

"I bet it's with Angela," Sam waggled her eyebrows.

"I think you're right," Dee winked.

Just then, a group of teenagers walked in, so Sam said goodbye to Dee and took Bowser outside.  They took the long way back to Sam's apartment, giving her some time to think.  She climbed the stairs and walked down the hall, stopping just in front of Marshall's door.  She decided to knock and see if he was there.  After three attempts, and no noises coming from within, Sam figured he wasn't home and unlocked her own apartment door, walking inside.  Bowser waited for her to take the leash off, then immediately flopped down on the couch with his princess doll.   Sam went to sit at her computer, picking up where she'd left off the day before on Evermake.  

Around 3 p.m., she jumped when her phone vibrated, indicating a new text message from Charles.  She opened it, and burst out laughing, not at all expecting the words she'd just read, 'I have never been more terrified of a bowl of chili in my entire life.'

Sam wiped a tear from her eye and typed back, 'Oh no, not the precious suit...'  

She could feel the smugness in his response, 'My suit is immaculate, as usual.  You don’t achieve my fencing caliber without being able to dodge.'

Sam grinned wickedly and replied, 'Challenge accepted.'

'Dirty just one fiber, and you will be punished,' even without his voice emphasizing it, Sam could hear the entendre.

'Then I'll be sure to dirty the whole thing,' she replied, smirking.

If she had been able to see Charles in that moment, she likely would have enjoyed how hard his teeth were biting into the knuckle of the fist he had in front of his mouth.  

'As loath as I am to cut this short, I have to escort my wayward students to the piste area for warm-ups.  We will continue this later.'

Sam smiled softly at his admission that he wanted to continue talking to her.  She quickly Poogled 'piste' and then bit her lip, answering with, 'Good luck, and don't get too piste at them.' 

'Incorrigible,' came his reply.

Sam grinned from ear to ear, left with a warm feeling after texting with Charles. 

She dove happily back into her coding for Evermake, making a lot of headway, right up until her phone rang.  Her heart leapt as she looked at the screen, falling only slightly when she saw her dad's name appear.  He was video calling…Again.

She accepted it and immediately dropped the phone when his voice boomed through, "HELLO PUMPKIN! MY PEACHY PRINCESS POOH!" She bent down to retrieve her phone, his voice still projecting outward from it, "But, wait, why is it so DARK? PUMPKIN did you not pay your Hydro bill?

"You don't have to yell, Dad," Sam rolled her eyes as she wiggled a finger in her ear, turning the camera to face her, "The microphone picks up sounds just fine."

"Sorry, princess," he grinned sheepishly, "I'm just always so excited to talk to you."

"I know, Dad," she smiled, "And ditto.  How are things in Hawaii?"

"It's fantastic here, your mother is always in a bikini," he waggled his eyebrows.

"Dad, ew," Sam wrinkled her nose.

"I do have some bad news though.  Or maybe it's good news...bad for you because you're deprived of my presence, good for me because I get to see your mother more, but also bad for me because it's longer until I can hug you again, bad news for my little grandson because he won't get Grandpa cuddles or dog treats..."

Bowser gave the phone a worried look, seemingly interpreting the conversation.

"Though maybe good news for Jones because I can't reach far enough to-"

"DAD! Sam cried, sighing frustratedly, "Would you just spit it out?"

"Your mother's contract was extended by another 3 weeks...and I've decided to stay here with her.  I'll handle things for Young Tech remotely, with Jones continuing as acting CEO."

"Oh..." Sam replied, "Well that's okay, dad, I'm glad you and mom will be together longer."

"We miss you Sweetie!" came Samantha's voice as she popped into view beside Samuel, "We'll have to make sure we do another trip here with you! I think you'd love it."

Sam felt a slight sting at the corners of her eyelids, blinking rapidly as she said, "I would love that, it's been a while s-since we've done a family trip."

"Then it's settled," smiled Samantha, reaching up to run her fingers through Samuel's hair, "We'll plan for a family trip once we get back."

Just then, Sam could hear her mom's name called from offscreen, Samantha's gaze focusing on something behind her viewpoint, "I'm sorry darling, we have to go.  We're changing location."

"Okay, mom, I love you guys!" Sam waved.

"We love you too," replied Samantha, blowing a kiss.

"And let me know how it goes with Indigineer tomorrow, pumpkin," added Samuel, "I already know you're going to NAIL IT," complete with fist pump.

"Th-thanks dad, talk to you later."

And with that, the call was disconnected.  Sam slumped down into her chair, a sudden weight in her stomach brought on by the reminder that her huge proposal meeting was tomorrow.  She had actually legitimately forgotten about it, her thoughts having been so focused on accented words and ocean blue eyes.  She looked at her progress on Evermake, saving and backing it up.  The small cloud of anxiety now hanging over her would prevent her from being able to concentrate on any further coding, so she microwaved some pizza pops and settled on the couch with Bowser, turning on Netpix.  She scrolled through the selections, landing on the movie 'Nana's Boi,' something which wouldn't really require much focus.  It was more for distraction anyways, as her mind was now firmly fixated on the Indigineer proposal and its possible outcomes.  

Sam hadn't realized she'd fallen asleep until she was startled awake by her phone buzzing against her leg.  She rubbed her eyes and squinted when she saw 'Unknown Number' on the screen, the time reading 11:38 pm.  She stood and stretched, bringing the phone to her ear, "Hello?"

"I apologize if I woke you, I don't currently have texting capabilities," Charles sounded tired.

"Umm...why?" Sam asked, walking toward her bedroom.

"Because I'm destined to be tormented by the universe," he sighed.

"Are you g-going to elaborate? Or..." Sam pressed the speakerphone function and lay her phone on the bed while she changed into her PJ's and set her alarm clock.

"I'll be brief.  I am currently calling you from a back-up phone as my cellphone is sitting in a bowl of rice after what can only be known as a 'catastrophic incident' involving Gatorade."

Sam processed his words for a moment as she crawled under the covers, turning off speakerphone and placed the mobile between her ear and the pillow, "So...does that mean you won?"

"We did, yes."

"Congratulations Charles! That's amazing!"

"I thought so too.  But then, the impudent whelps decided to go the way of most sports movies and attempt to dump an entire container of Gatorade over me."

"Guess those dodging skills are getting a bit rusty."

"Not quite so.  I did manage to avoid getting Gatorade on my person, however, my phone had been in my hand and I dropped it in the process of evading a sugary shower.  It took the hit."

"Do you think it'll survive?" she asked, eyelids growing heavy.

"Too soon to tell," he responded, "Although I'm sure Lucy would be more than willing to order a new phone in an equally ridiculous colour."

Sam giggled sleepily as slumber began creeping in on the edges of her consciousness, "Maybe neon orange."

"Heaven help her if it's chartreuse."

"Should I take the b-bus tomorrow? So you get more s-sleep?" Sam murmured, her words slurring as she crossed the line between waking and sleep.

"Absolutely not, I will be at your place for the usual time.  We can spend part of the morning going over our proposal for Indigineer, and I would like to take you out for lunch, if that's alright."

Charles was met with silence.

"Samara?"

She answered by way of a soft snore.

Charles chuckled, "Sweet dreams, Bunty," and ended the call.

Sam woke to the blaring sound of her alarm, an hour earlier than she would normally get up.  She swung her arm over and hit the alarm clock, stretching out across the bed before finally dragging herself out of it.  She showered and brushed her teeth, then set upon the arduous task of picking her outfit for the day.  Normally she only put in a moderate amount of thought, but today, her idea, her plan, her proposal would hopefully come to fruition, and she needed an outfit that reflected the effort she’d put into it.  She leafed through her closet and picked out a few things...then threw them all in a pile, and went back to searching.  She finally settled on an outfit that she had bought while shopping with Monica.  She had recalled feeling powerful with it on, channelling the confidence that Monica so often held with such ease.  That thought brought her some comfort, in combination with her self-confidence boost.  She thread her arms through the white dress shirt, doing the buttons deliberately, ensuring they were aligned.  As her fingers worked, her mind brought up the memory of her undoing the buttons on Charles' shirt, when he'd been kneeling between her legs.  She flushed and pulled the tight dark charcoal slacks up her legs, securing them over the bottom of her shirt.  Next came the matching jacket, which was brought together in the front by a gold chain.  She did her hair up and out of her face, selecting a pair of black 1-inch heels to complete it.  A glance in the mirror had her smiling softly, liking the image she saw reflected back at her.  Her phone buzzed with a text telling her that her Cantankerous Old Goat was downstairs.  She put her phone in her bag, blew Bowser a kiss goodbye, and locked up behind her.  She peered up at the sky as she walked outside, noting how overcast it was and looked ready to pour; and she hadn't even thought to bring an umbrella.  She waved to Charles as she approached his car, hopping in to see the look in his eyes as he saw her outfit.

"Do...do I look okay?" she asked, nervously checking herself.

"You look ready to take on the world, Bunty," he smiled, then turned forward and began the drive to Young Tech.

"Thanks, Charles," she grinned, "I see your phone is working again."

"Yes, unfortunately," he sighed, "I had hoped, foolishly it seems, that I would be rid of the pink."

She gave him a half-hearted smile and then stared out the window.  He read her posture as not being her usual self and asked, "Are you alright, Samara?"

"I'm just...n-nervous," she glanced toward him.

"About Indigineer?" 

"Yeah."

"Well don't be, Bunty. I've seen you grow these past few weeks, truly finding your horns, and I bet you will do splendidly," his voice was gentle.

"Well, you'll do splendidly," she corrected.

"Was that ever in question?" he smirked, oddly happy to see he'd invoked a smile upon her face.

She stuck her tongue out at him, and he reached over and placed a hand on her knee, "For what it's worth, Samara, I believe in you."

She placed her hand atop his own and practically whispered, "It's worth everything."

They rode in silence the rest of the way, though their hands remained where they were.  Upon arriving at Young Technologies, Charles found he had three calls to return, and Sam wanted to go over their prep for the proposal; each going into their respective offices.  Once he'd completed his calls, Charles sat in his chair, hand over his mouth as he stared out the window in a contemplative fashion.  He couldn't shake this feeling, this persistent awareness of Sam and how anxious she was about Indigineer, wondering how he could help her.  Then he caught himself and thumped his fist on the chair arm, deepening the fissure borne from when Sam was last in his office with him.  'Remember your rules on attachment, Jones,' he scolded himself.  After a small internal struggle, Charles got up and stuck his head out the door of his office, calling out "Umed, can I see you in here for a minute?"

"Be right there!" came the dark-haired developer's response.

When he walked in, Charles said, "Shut the door behind you, please."

Umed did so, waiting for Charles to talk.  The Welshman seemed to be off in his own world, however, so Umed sat on the chair in front of Charles' desk, his elbow propped on his knee and his chin resting in his hand, "You know, Jones," he feigned disinterest, "I haven't got all day."

"You were just watching instant replays of Underwatch tournaments," Charles raised an eyebrow.

"I'm a busy guy," Umed shrugged, "Besides, you're the one who called me in here."

"Right," nodded Charles, still silent.

"Well if that's all, then-"

"What...what do you do for someone when they're nervous?" Charles finally asked, unable to make eye contact with the man in front of him.

Rather than taunt him further, Umed sat back and tapped his finger on his chin, "I might do something nice for them, a foreign concept to you, I know.  Have you tried chocolates?"

"I don't think that would be of much help."

"Flowers?"

"Not this time."

"Hmm..." Umed thought, then "How about comfort food?"

"That...yes I think that could work," Charles smiled, finally meeting his eyes.

"Sam really likes pho," Umed said smugly, one eyebrow raised, "She says it always makes her feel better."

"That wasn't..I-"

"Oh stuff it, towhead," Charles blushed, remembering the last time those words were said to him, "You've already told me how you feel, you don't need to bother hiding it.  You don't do a very good job of it anyways."

"Alright then," Charles replied tersely, adjusting his tie, "Where do I-"

"We usually order from a place just around the block, called 'Krazy Pho You'.  Sam likes their chicken broth."

"I...thank you, Umed," Charles smiled genuinely.

"No problem," replied Umed, "You know you can come to me with this stuff eh?"

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Good.  Now unless there's anything else, I'll be heading back to watch some slow motion attack analyses," said Umed, walking for the door.  He paused just before opening it and said, "By the way, I'm pretty sure she likes you too," and with that, he was gone.

Charles shook his head then looked to the clock.  In about an hour, he would make his way to Krazy Pho You and pick up lunch, trying to convince himself it was merely to ensure she would be ready for the proposal meeting.  That hour flew by, and soon he was walking out through the main door, having asked Lucy to hold his calls, and on his way to the pho restaurant.  He was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he almost ran into someone, catching himself just in time.

"I do apologize, sir," he said sheepishly, "I wasn't paying attention."

His eyes met those of the man he'd almost collided with, and he was a bit taken aback at the emptiness he saw within them.  

"Do you work in there?" the man's voice was despondent as he pointed toward the office building Charles had just walked out of.

"Yes, I work with Young Technologies.  Are you...a client?" Charles took in his unkempt appearance; hair a mess, clothes rumpled and stained, a battered briefcase in one hand with an engraved label that read "Darin Whittaker."

"Not...really," replied Darin, "Which office is Young Technologies?"

"Those windows, there" Charles gestured toward his office, then "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"No," Darin answered, still staring at the building, "You've been very helpful."

"Then I bid you good day," Charles nodded and continued onward, leaving the whole odd experience behind him as his focus shifted to pho.

Sam had chewed her fingernail down to the quick, eyes barely focused on the words in front of her.  She had somehow managed to make herself even more nervous, and was watching the clock slowly tick toward the impending meeting.  She looked up when a knock sounded on her door, calling "Come in."

Charles walked in, closing the door behind him, and she instantly felt better, calmer.  She furrowed her brows when she saw he was holding a white plastic bag, which he deposited on the table by her desk.  He then moved to sit on the edge of her desk and leaned forward, fingers smoothing out the creases on her forehead.  She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch, hearing him softly say "How are you doing, Bunty?"

"A little better now," she murmured.

"Well perhaps this will help," he commented, reaching over to for the plastic bag and lowering it onto her desk.

Sam peeked inside curiously and her eyes instantly went wide and shiny as she looked up at him, "You...you brought me pho?"

He chuckled at her expression, replying "I have it on good authority that it makes for excellent comfort food."

She suddenly stood and pressed her lips firmly to his, catching him by surprise.  Once he'd recovered, he returned the kiss until she moved back to look into his eyes, "Thank you, Charles, really."

He merely nodded, unable to word a reply at that moment.  As they ate their lunch, Sam having shown Charles how to 'assemble' his pho, he went over the verbal part of the proposal presentation for Indigineer with her.  They discussed what elements they would bring up, and on what points they would be willing to negotiate.  Charles also laid out some of the back-up offers he had come up with, on the off chance they weren't convinced on the first go.  Sam felt much more relaxed after her lunch with Charles, and the rest of the time leading up to the proposal went by somewhat quickly, as she'd been able to focus on a few other things.  At 2 pm, Charles leaned against the doorframe to her office and asked, "Are you ready to go?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," she replied.

The drive to Indigineer was pretty uneventful, save for the few drops of rain beginning to fall as they walked briskly from Charles' car into the building.  Just inside the doors, Charles gripped Sam's forearm, stalling her forward movement.  She turned to look at him, confused, until he spoke, "No matter what happens, Samara, you've done well."  He squeezed her hand as he spoke.

"Thank you, Charles," she blushed.

He gestured for her to continue ahead, and they were met in the lobby by a woman in a black pencil skirt, crimson blouse, and white heels.

"Mr. Jones from Young Technologies?" she asked.

"And Miss Samara Young, yes," he responded.

"Excellent," replied the woman, "Right this way."

They were led to a conference room and sat on the side of the table closest to the door, being offered drinks; both settled on ice water and coffee.  Just as Sam was about to start fidgeting, they heard footsteps approaching the room.  Charles stole a glance at Sam as a man and woman walked in, both with no-nonsense looks on their faces, neither looking familiar to Charles.

"Hello Mr. Jones, Miss Young," nodded the woman, "My name is Maya Rivillo, I am the general manager for Indigineer, and this," she gestured to the man standing beside her, "Is Mr. Eriko Sanchal, our head engineer and son of Mr. Sanchal Sr."

Charles' brow furrowed, "I was under the impression we would be meeting with Mr. Sanchal Sr., the CEO."

"He had an emergency come up," explained Maya, "And was unable to make it.  He does send his regards though."

"We would be happy to reschedule if that suits-" started Charles.

"No need," interrupted Eriko briskly, "Please present your proposal."

Sam's leg started bouncing under the table as Charles went through their planned presentation, succinctly hitting every point they'd discussed, with just the right amount of embellishment.  Soon, he was nearing the end and Sam was watching Maya and Eriko's faces, trying to gauge their reactions.  When Charles finished speaking, there was a momentary silence where Maya and Eriko made eye contact with one another.

“While we appreciate the effort that was made to address this, ‘brute force’ flaw, as you put it,” Maya began, complete with air quotes, “At this time, we are declining your proposal.”

Sam was taken aback, visibly affected by Maya’s words; attempting to suppress the wave of nausea mixed with confusion and shock.  Charles subtly adjusted his tie, quelling his instantly blazing fury on Samara’s behalf, outwardly maintaining his glacial façade.

“May I inquire as to your rationale on this decision?” Charles asked, his clipped voice sweeping an arctic breeze into the atmosphere; coming up against blistering aridity.

“To be frank, Mr. Jones, you’re asking us to take on a considerable liability in switching from our current system to the proposed client software program from Young Technologies,” Maya replied, unfazed by the chill emanating from the blond man before her, “Especially if you are recommending a complete infrastructure overhaul based on conditional anomalies occurring at less than 1% among our developer accounts.”

“It may b-be less than 1%,” Sam stood as she spoke up, attempting to keep her voice firm while her hands clenched into fists at her sides, nails practically biting into her palms. “B-but it doesn’t change the f-fact that th-this current system f-flaw can be exploited against o-other developers, and will continue to be an issue f-for future ones,” she pressed on, her own experience at the forefront of her mind, along with the support and encouragement of her friends, her coworkers, and Charles.  “L-like Mr. Jones m-mentioned,” Sam glanced at Charles, his steady gaze meeting her own, “Switching to client-based s-software may not c-completely eliminate the fragging problem b-brought on by m-mob mentality in relation to p-purposefully down-voting games, but it would give you b-better control, and help im-improve Indigineer’s system.”

Charles silently appraised Sam throughout her speech, immensely proud to see her showing her horns, in spite of her aversion to public speaking.

“Regardless,” Eriko’s bored voice cut through Charles’ thoughts as he waved a hand dismissively, “We thank you for bringing this to our attention, but we stand by our decision to reject your proposal, and your recommendations.  While we can acknowledge the series of unfortunate events that brought about this proposition, we’re not about to change our system, nor our policies, just because Samuel Young’s m-miracle b-baby got a bad score on her game,” he sneered, mocking Sam’s nervous stutter.

Sam was completely dumbfounded at the sudden turn the conversation had taken, thinking ‘of course they know about Ruminate, I should have seen it coming’.  She tried to think of some kind of response, but instead could only take a step backwards as tears stung her eyes, mumbling, “Thank you for your time,” before dashing out of the room.

Charles stood from his chair, very slowly, his expression one to match the stormy skies outside.  He picked up his briefcase and said, “That was completely uncalled for,” adjusting his tie, “And I do think in the near future, you will come to realize the egregious error in judgment you’ve made today.”

And with those parting words, he strode off after Sam, spotting her ahead of him, in front of the foyer.

Sam leaned against the wall in the lobby for support, breathing heavily as the realization of the previous 20 minutes hit her.  She had been sure Charles could change their minds about rejecting the proposal, knowing him.  But then she'd opened her mouth....She couldn't have just kept it to herself, she just had to insult the work of their head engineer, the CEO's son no less, who apparently was extremely petty.  She started clutching for her bag as her breathing began gaining the characteristic wheeze of an asthma attack.

"Here," said a familiar voice behind her.

Charles reached into her bag, shook her inhaler, and offered it to her, eyes unreadable as he said, "Please inhale this, Miss Young."

The fact that he called her 'Miss Young' combined with his neutral expression was enough to convince her that she'd let him down.  She had disappointed the one person she had wanted to never fail.  She didn't deserve him.  Without looking at Charles, she ran from the lobby, straight out into a downpour that she hadn't heard from inside, not over the pounding of the blood in her ears.  The roar of water sheeting down and a crack of thunder blocked the "Cachu," and "Samara, wait!" from her hearing, as well as the footsteps behind her.  She was instantly soaked, but found she didn't care, walking until her breathing was nearly impossible, leaning against a lamp post, waiting for her legs to give out.  Suddenly, the rain was no longer hitting her face and she turned, blinking the remaining water and tears from her eyes, to see Charles right beside her, holding his jacket over both of them with one hand while the other brought her inhaler to her lips.

"Breathe out, Bunty," he said gently, eyes locked on hers as she exhaled.  She closed her lips around the end of the inhaler, breathing in while Charles pressed down on the cylinder to release the medication into her lungs.

"Good," he soothed, "Now let's do that again."  They repeated the process and Sam felt her breaths come easier, hands shaking, pulse racing.

Charles put her inhaler back into her bag and pulled her close to him underneath the tented jacket, her hands resting on his chest.

"Breathe with me, Bunty," he encouraged, his deep voice reverberating through her, instilling a sense of calm.  She could feel his chest moving with his breaths, and pushed herself to meet his rhythm, finding her own breathing matching him, even as their hearts started beating in sync - not that either of them was aware.

She could feel warmth and comfort seeping into her from the hand he had pressing lightly against the small of her back.  She buried her face into his soaked shirt, clutching at the fabric of his vest.  A sudden loud peel of thunder startled both of them, and Charles bent his head down to speak near her ear, "Perhaps we should get in the car, Bunty, I don't think it's particularly safe out here." He noted internally that the more distressed she was, the more he seemed to revert to his nickname for her.

She nodded and felt him lace his fingers through hers, leading her toward where they'd parked just down the street.  He opened her door first, still holding the jacket over her until she was seated and the door was closed.  He got into the driver's seat and tossed his sodden jacket into the back, dropped his suitcase behind the passenger seat, then turned to face Sam.  He gently took her face in his hands, thumbs gently rubbing her cheeks as he placed a kiss on her forehead.

"I really messed up," she sighed, not able to look at him.

"No, you didn't," he stated, voice firm.  He grasped her chin and tilted her head upward until she met his gaze, "You were merely speaking a truth that, quite frankly, they needed to hear.  I can't abide by large business decisions being swayed by pettiness, particularly ones backed by nepotism...so I placed a call."

"What? When? To who?" she asked, eyes shining.

"After you left the room," he stated, reaching up to intercept a droplet of water that was about to drip into her eye, "To your father in Hawaii."

"I don't...I don't understand," she blinked slightly in confusion.

"Mr. Young and I have been discussing the validity of buying out Indigineer, Samara," he explained, watching closely for her reaction, "After going over all of the information you'd gathered, it honestly seemed like a logical step for us to take, but I put a hold on it, wanting to see you follow through with your proposal.  Had they accepted, then that would have been that, and your father and I would have brought up buying their company to you later on down the line.  But after that display today, I felt that any further dealings with people like that would be of no benefit to us, or to others for that matter, so I called your father and explained what happened.  He agreed immediately, I believe something about 'They made my peachy pumpkin pooh CRY?' and a slew of murderous intent I'd rather not repeat."

"Is...is that what my dad was talking about the night he called you, when we were right in the middle of..." she blushed, having made the connection as soon as he'd said it.

"Yes," nodded Charles.

Samara brought a hand up to grip his arm, "So...so Young Technologies owns Indigineer?" 

"Mr. Sanchal Sr. accepted our more than generous offer, something about wanting to retire anyway; and he seemed not too keen on the idea of Eriko taking over.  Now all that's left is for the lawyers to meet up and the paperwork to be signed."

"Charles, I..." Sam was speechless.

"I-I realize I may have overstepped my boundaries with this, Samara, and-"

"N-no!" she half shouted, blushing, "Charles, you did that for me?"

He rubbed his neck embarrassingly, unsure of how to answer such a loaded question.  Sam sensed his discomfort and leaned forward, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.

"You will, of course, be in charge of Indigineer and oversee their operations," Charles continued, "The composition of the staff, projects, and programming will go through you, I suspect you'll start by fixing the error that set all of this in motion."

"And...and what about Eriko?" she felt a slight tightening in her chest from apprehension.

"That will be up to you," said Charles gently, "Whether you decide to let him go, or keep him on to show him how to learn from his mistakes is entirely your choice.  And, perhaps this can set you firmly toward your goal of a career in game development."

"I..." she was speechless again, then her face lit up, her voice warm, "Thank you, Charles."

Charles felt a twinge in his chest, an occurrence that had been becoming more frequent the more time he spent with the woman in front of him.  He reached up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear, "It..it was of no consequence, Samara, merely an expedition of plans already in place."

Sam knew that was the closest to heartfelt the Welshman could likely get in that moment, so took it as is.  Another loud crack of thunder sounded as she reached down and grabbed his hand.  She brought it to her lips and pressed a light kiss to his knuckles, the action speaking louder than any words could.

"Why don't I take you home, Bunty?" he asked, voice hushed, "It's been an eventful afternoon and you're soaked to the bone."

"Okay," she nodded.

He pulled his phone from his briefcase, thankfully it was still dry, and brought up his contact list, "I'll let them know at the office," he said by way of explanation.

Lucy saw Charles' number flash across the phone display and tapped on her GreenTooth earpiece, "Hey Charles, what's up?"

"Miss Young and I will not be returning today, I'm about to take her home."

"Take her home, eh?" Lucy said suggestively.

"Oh fy nuw, Lucy you know what I mean," he said, irritated.

"Sure sure," she said dismissively, "Did everything go alright with Indigineer?"

"Yes and no, I will explain tomorrow prior to sending out a memo."

"Is Sam okay?" 

"Hi Lucy," Sam's voice came through the phone, "I'm alright, just exhausted.  Plus we both got soaked by the rain."

"Well you get home and warm up then," said Lucy, "Maybe Charles can help-" she stopped mid-sentence as Charles hung up the phone on the other end.

Lucy then got up and walked over to Umed's desk, perching on the edge, "I think you might win the pool."

"Why's that?" asked Umed, swiveling his chair to face her.

"Charles is 'taking her home' right now," Lucy grinned devilishly, complete with air quotes.

"What makes you so sure something'll happen?"

"Oh please, Umed, you heard them on the phone on Friday with Mr. McNally," she scoffed, then affected a British accent, "Someone is ch-choking, I might need to do thrusts."

They both laughed together, then Umed said, "I still can't believe you listened in on that."

"I wasn't lying about McNally's accent," she clasped her hands under her chin, staring off dreamily, "I'd let him butter my haggis."

"I...don't want to have any part of that sentence," Umed wrinkled his nose.

"Prude," sniffed Lucy as she stood to walk back to her desk.

"I'll be a rich prude, according to you," Umed called after her.

"For this pool anyway," she fired back.

After Charles had parked outside Sam's building, he'd insisted on walking her to her door.  They'd run inside trying to avoid the rain, barely able to hear each other over the clash of thunder.  As they climbed the last of the stairs and reached her door, Sam unlocked it and opened it slightly, then turned to Charles, eyeing his dripping clothes.

"W-would you like to come inside?" she asked shyly.

He stepped forward and wrapped his hand around the back of her neck, pulling her into a kiss, "I don't think that's a good idea, Samara," he murmured against her lips, "You're already emotionally vulnerable as it is."

"I-I'm stronger than you think," she responded, eyes gleaming with a resolve he didn't often see her wear.

"I'm seeing that more and more," he commented, hand cupping her jaw, "But all the same, I think I should refrain this time."

She let out a sigh, drawing an amused smile from him, "If you say so...but I'm taking a goodbye kiss."

She closed the gap between them, lips crashing, tongues meeting, heat rising, all to the beat of the thunder outside.  Sam bit Charles' bottom lip and tugged, having learned it was a weak spot for him.  In turn, he suddenly felt his self-control yank on the reins and he stepped back abruptly.

"I...I need to go," he whispered.

He turned to walk down the hallway when, all of a sudden, the lights went out.  He paused in the darkness and turned, barely able to see Sam's silhouette.  Before either of them could speak, a large fork of lightning flashed nearby, briefly igniting the hallway in a sharp white light.  In that brief moment of vision, Charles saw Sam, her eyes on him, her lips still shining from his kiss, her skin flushed.  Sam saw Charles, the rigidity in his posture, the clenching of his fists...and a look on his face she couldn't decipher.  She didn't get a chance to say anything as the loudest boom of thunder yet cracked overhead, and Charles was moving toward her, covering the space between them in three strides.  His lips found hers immediately, his hands in her hair, tugging, as hers clenched his jacket lapels, each trying to get closer to the other.  Sam stepped backward through her door, pulling Charles with her.  He kicked it shut on the other side and reached behind him to lock it.  She slowly dragged her hand down his chest, only trembling slightly as she crossed over his belt, palming the already hardened bulge in his pants. He broke away from her lips and gasped, "Hand me your phone," his voice was rough, hair damp and tousled, clothes elegantly rumpled.

"W-why?" she asked, doing as he'd requested.

"Because," he answered as he powered both of their phones down and tossed them on her couch, "I will not be interrupted this time.  Come hell or high water, we will finish what we've started."  He then bent down and gripped her by the thighs, lifting her smoothly as she instinctively wrapped her legs around him, like it was second nature.  His lips recaptured hers as her hands twisted into his blond locks.  Charles walked them to what he assumed was her bedroom, his path lit by the sporadic lightning. 

Once he felt his shins hit the edge of her bed, he set her down upon it and toed off his shoes and socks.  He leaned down to take her heels off as well, leaving them by the foot of the bed.  Sam sat up and loosened his tie, removing it slowly as she held his gaze.  He pulled her into another bruising kiss as she started to undo the buttons on his vest, fingers mildly shaking.  He reached down and unhooked the chain holding her jacket together, the clink of it echoing back at him as heralding something wonderful instead of the usual harsh memories.  He shifted his hands under the shoulders of her jacket and slowly slid it down off her arms, tossing it onto the floor by their shoes.  His lips had moved to her neck, kissing a pathway downward, placing nips and licks along the hollow of her throat.  She moaned, pausing in her unbuttoning of his shirt.  He looked down to see that her white dress shirt was complete see-through, soaked as it was by the rain.  He shrugged off his own shirt, and vest, and dropped them onto the slowly growing pile of wet clothing. 

Sam ran her fingers down the firm expanse of his chest, noting the toned muscle beneath the alabaster skin.  He worked at unbuttoning her shirt, his mouth placing kisses along the skin as it was exposed to him.  He licked along the swell of her breasts and peeled off her shirt, tossing it to join the others.  He saw the goosebumps erupt across her chest on being exposed to the air, and soothed over them with his lips.  He brought his hand up to cup one of her breasts, thumbing her nipple through the navy blue fabric, feeling it stiffen.  She gasped and he reached behind her to unclasp her bra, gripping the straps and pulling them down off her arms.  Sam flinched only minutely as her bosom was finally nude before him, her self-consciousness trying to rear its head.  Charles seemed to sense this and leaned forward, palming one of her breasts, rolling her nipple between his finger and thumb, just as he'd once instructed her to do, while his mouth found her other nipple.  He flicked it with his tongue, able to feel the skin around it pebbling against his lips.

"Charles," she whispered as her eyelashes fluttered, overwhelmed by the sensation of his tongue and fingers working her, his other hand gliding up her thigh.  She moved her hands down to his belt and undid the buckle and his fly.  It gave her enough room to reach in and pull his length free, running her hand along it.  She relished the groan her touch elicited, and applied a bit more pressure.  His response was to grip her shoulders and push her gently so that she was laying on her back.  He then slid his hands slowly down over her breasts, her navel, stopping at the eyehook holding her slacks together.  Within seconds he was pulling both those and her panties down, catching her socks at the end of their path.  He dropped the material on the floor and raked his eyes over her bared form, noting her move to try and cover herself.

He leaned forward and pinned her wrists to the mattress, bending until his lips were by her ear, "You are breathtaking, Samara," his voice was rough, "I was merely enjoying the view." 

He released his hold and she gripped his chin, turning his head so she could rejoin their lips.  He brought his knees to rest between hers on the bed, bringing up his thigh to press against the apex of her legs.  She ground against him as he brought his lips to her neck once more, nipping at her pulse point.  She reached down and tried to pull his pants and boxer briefs down, but her arms weren't quite long enough.  He smirked and raised himself off the bed enough to pull them the rest of the way, now as naked as she was.  He watched her gaze take him in, her pupils fully blown, breathing shallow.  He once again kneeled between her legs and began a slow, torturous worship of her body, trailing kisses, licks, and bites in languorous exploration.  She had once told him he was special to her, so he wanted to make this special too, she deserved it.  His hands accompanied his movements, one preoccupied once again by a nipple, while the other traced down her stomach, along her hip bone and gripped her thigh.  He busied his mouth with the skin just below her navel, feeling a sense of satisfaction sweeping over him as her hips thrust upward, seeking friction.  He obliged, drawing a delicious moan from her as he swirled his tongue around her clit, lips closing over it.  He began a pattern of flicks, swirls, and hard strokes with his tongue while his lips sucked on the small bundle of nerves.  He splayed one hand across her abdomen, holding her in place, while sliding the other along her inner thigh.

"Please," she whimpered as her hands fisted in his hair, and he knew exactly what she was asking for.  He slid his index finger along her dripping folds, immensely turned on by how wet she was, for him.  He gently pushed that questing digit along with his middle finger into her, feeling her jolt slightly at the onslaught of sensations.

His mouth increased its pressure while his hand upped its speed, Sam crying out "Charles!" almost drowned out by the rain pounding against the window and the thunder behind it.

When he curled his fingers inside of her, and sucked harder on her clit, he felt her muscles tense, her thighs trembling.  He continued the deliberate motions, her pants quickening, her back slowly arching, and her pelvis thrusting against him as her impending climax took control.

"Ch-Charles I'm...FUCK," she yelled as she came hard, shuddering as he kept on moving, albeit more slowly than before.

She tilted her head to look down at him, finding the sight of his bright blue eyes looking up at her, his mouth glistening with her arousal, to be incredibly seductive.  He held her eyes as he slowly moved back up along her body, placing a trail of kisses along his path, once again back at her neck.  He suddenly seemed to pause as a thought struck him, and Sam could practically see his thought process in his expression.

"In the top drawer," she said breathily, gesturing to her nightstand.

He leaned over her and opened the drawer, raising an eyebrow as he saw a bowl full of condoms.

"Had some ideas, did you?" he teased grabbing one of the larger-sized ones.

"M-Monica gave them to me," she blushed.

"I'm going to have to buy that woman a thank you gift at this point," he huffed, sitting up slightly.  He opened the square foil packet and slid the latex deftly onto his length, tossing the package back onto the nightstand, Sam's eyes glued to him the whole time.

He propped his elbows on either side of her head, leaning down to draw her into a deep kiss, his hips coming down to rest against hers as she tasted herself on his lips.  He gave a shallow thrust, dragging his member along her engorged folds, rubbing her clit in the process.  He swallowed her moan, his tongue sliding along her bottom lip even as she tried to change the angle of her hips.

"Are you sure?" he asked, pulling back to press his forehead to hers, searching her gaze.

"Very," she replied.

He lined himself up with her entrance and slowly pushed just the tip in, watching her neck muscles stretch as she tilted her head backwards.  He slowly continued his forward progression, kissing her neck as he did so.  He watched as her face grimaced in pain and she bit her lip, determined not to let any sound out.  And then he was fully sheathed, remaining still so she could adjust to him.

"Does it hurt?" he asked softly, kissing her jawline.

"A-a bit," she exhaled, feeling a wonderful sensation of fullness amidst the discomfort.

"If you tell me to stop, I will," he murmured, placing a tender kiss on her lips.

"N-no, I don't want you to," she answered, "It's...already feeling better."

She placed a hand behind his neck and pulled his lips to hers again, her other hand resting on his flank.  He slowly pulled back until he was almost completely out, then pushed back into her.  This time, she felt less pain than before, the next thrust even less so, and the one after that started to feel good.  Charles, his control struggling to maintain its hold, kept up the sedate pace, listening for her moans as she got used to him.  Soon, she started raising her hips off the bed to meet him, trying to force him into an increased pace.  He kissed along the crease where her neck met her jaw, ending with his lips beside her ear.

"Use your words Samara," he commanded, "What is it you want?"

"I...I want you to go faster," she gasped as he completed another thrust.

"As you wish," he murmured, voice rough.

His thrusts started a quicker pace, he pleasantly surprised when she wrapped her legs around him, her heels digging into his back, pushing him deeper.  He shifted his weight to rest on one of his arms, while he reached the other down to rub her clit with his thumb, reveling in the low moan he drew from her.  Their joined forms were backlit by the lightning of the still raging storm outside, the thunder playing the soundtrack.  In its wake, Charles watched Sam's face as she approached her climax, her fingernails raking along his back.  Her eyes clenched shut, growing ever closer as he changed the angle to hit a sensitive spot inside of her.

"Open your eyes, Samara," he demanded, breath coming in pants, "I want you to look at me."

She did as he requested, chocolate brown locking onto glacial blue as he thrust harder, his thumb doubling its efforts.  He saw the moment that she approached her peak, his name escaping her mouth as she subsequently flew off it, finding it such a beautiful sight that he had to fight his body to stop it from following her.  He slowed his thrusts down, but still kept the movement going.

"How are you?" he asked, when her eyes once again focused on his.

"That was...amazing, Charles," she breathed, "But what about you?"

"Oh I'm not quite finished with you yet, Bunty," his voice deepened and he pulled out from her, leaving her with an oddly empty feeling.

He gripped her hand and tugged her up into a kneeling position, pulling her in for a heady kiss, his hands gripping her hips.  He guided her to turn until she was facing away from him, still on her knees.  He placed a hand between her shoulder blades and pushed gently - feeling a strange sense of deja vu.  She automatically brought her palms to plant on the mattress, on her hands and knees before him.  He bent his head and nipped one of her rear cheeks, causing her to jump, soothing it with a kiss.  He gripped both cheeks then, kneading the flesh lightly before dragging the fingers of one hand across her skin to rest atop her rear.  He slowly traced a line through the cleft of her buttocks until he was once again massaging her clit.

"Charles," she sighed, shoulders dipping forward, effectively giving him better access.

He only did this for a few minutes before moving to kneel behind her, aligning his cock with her core.  He slid in to the hilt in one smooth motion, her groan enough to spur him on.  He built up a punishing rhythm, hand snaking around her thigh to rub over the pearl at the top of her entrance, feeling her inner walls clench around him as he did so.  As he was thrusting, she reached back toward him, pulling his hand from her hip and intertwining their fingers.  The gesture was an intimate one, but Charles was too far gone to correct it, gripping her fingers firmly with his as he continued pounding into her.  He then took it as an opportunity, pulling her up to kneel in front of him, her back flush with his chest, not missing a beat.  His thrusts increased in both force and speed as did his ministrations on her clit, while he held their interlaced fingers over her breast, squeezing.  His lips found her neck, feeling the muscles tense there as he drew another shouted curse word from her.  His rhythm grew erratic as he neared his own climax, feeling her grow tighter around his length as she climbed with him.  He licked the shell of her ear and, just as he had over the phone, said, "Come for me, Samara."

And she did, forcibly.  The cascade throughout her body, her walls narrowing around him, and the volume with which she cried, "Fuck, Charles!" pushed him to his finish, as he let out a guttural groan in the shape of her name, his hips jerking from the force of it.  They stayed that way for a moment, him holding her against his chest, her head dipped back to rest on his shoulder, their hands still intertwined.  When their breathing slowed, he released his hold on her and she moved off of him, turning to press a kiss to his lips.  He observed her silently, eyes glittering as he waited for her to speak.  

"Charles," her voice was hushed, "I...I never imagined it c-could be like that. I...is that how it normally is?"

"Yes and no," he chuckled cryptically, kissing the tip of her nose, "But I must say, I very much enjoyed it too."

"I'm..I'm glad it was with you, my first time," her cheeks pinked.

'Your first…and I will be your last,' his mind practically shouted, but the words he permitted manifestation were, "No regrets?"

"None."  The firmity of her conviction shook him, and he found himself feeling a sensation of free-falling.

"Then I'm happy to have been your first," he murmured, fingers tracing her collarbone to lightly grip her shoulder, then drop to his side.  Just then, Sam’s alarm clock started flashing its number display, and several ‘beep’s’ sounded throughout the apartment, indicating the power was restored.  He looked down at himself, then back at Sam, "Do you mind if I use your restroom?"

"Oh!" she shook herself and gestured "Yes, of course, it's just down the hall."

He gave her a small smile then proceeded to the bathroom to wash up.  Once in, he removed the condom, rolling it into some tissue before dropping it in the wastebasket.  He rinsed himself off using the sink, and then gripped the edges of the basin, glaring at his reflection, muttering "So much for self control."

Sam pulled on some shorts and a loose, long-sleeved shirt.  She then grabbed her largest hoodie and largest pair of PJ pants, throwing both garments over her shoulder.  Gathering the mass of wet clothing in her arms, she walked down the hall and deposited them in the dryer, setting the timer for 30 minutes.  Charles opened the door at that moment, seeing Sam just outside.

"I-I put the clothes in to dry," she said, pointing to the dryer, "It w-won't take long.  You can wear th-these in the m-meantime," she held out the hoodie and pyjama pants to him.

"That's very thoughtful of you, Bunty, thank you" he smiled, fully opening the door - enjoying the way her cheeks immediately reddened, and pulled on the proffered garments.

Looking him over, she decided that she kind of liked the sight of him in her clothes; likely how he felt every time she wore his shirt...or his tie.

"W-would you like any herbal tea? I was going to make some."

"I would, please," he nodded, following her to the kitchen.  

She made the tea in silence while he pulled out some mugs, having correctly guessed which cupboard they were in.  Once the water was boiled and the drinks poured, Sam led him over to sit on the couch, curling her feet under her at one side, while he sat on the other.  She blew on the steaming liquid and took a small sip, staring thoughtfully to the side.

"Are you alright, Samara?" he asked gently.

She looked up, her eyes meeting his as she set her mug on the table and took one of his hands in hers, "I'm more than alright," she replied, "I just...I'm not quite sure how to act around you now."

He set his mug beside hers and then cupped her jaw, "Keep acting as you always have.  I still feel the same way about you, about this, and it won't change."

Just then, Bowser came bounding into the room and, on seeing them on the couch, leapt up and placed his front paws on Charles' leg, letting out a happy bark.

"Well hello to you too," he smiled, scratching the mini Welshboi behind the ears.

Bowser beamed at him and then turned to Sam, seeming to ask with his eyes if they could go for a walk, and if his new friend could come too.

Sam glanced out the window, noticing that the rain had begun to lessen, "Did...did you want to join me on a walk with Bowser?"

He considered her for a moment, then said, "Perhaps next time.  I think you might have some things to process, and it would probably be best if I take my leave."  He could tell she wasn't entirely satisfied with his answer, so he lightly gripped her chin and added, "I...may also need to process.  But I want you to understand, Samara, this is not a rejection.  I simply can't..." he lost track of his words.  He watched her eyes and for the first time, was unsure of what she was thinking. 

Finally, she reached up and gripped the palm of his hand holding her chin, voice gentle as she said, "Whatever you need, Charles."

He smiled softly, then stood, moving to pull his clothes out of the dryer.  He pulled them on, a bit wrinkled from the heat, and went to collect his shoes from her bedroom.  He carried them over to her front door as she stood to see him off, slipping them onto his feet.  She looked up at him shyly and he bent his head to kiss her, short and sweet.  Bowser let out a huff at Charles, having sat at his feet, looking confused.  Charles stooped to pet him, chuckling when he held up a paw.  Charles shook it and then stood back up.

"I'll pick you up in the morning," he said, "Same time, same place."

Sam smiled in return.  Those became his parting words as he opened the door and walked out, closing it behind him.  Sam leaned against it, the events of the day starting to catch up with her.  She was startled from her musings by an impatient "Ahp!"

"Alright, alright," she sighed, "Let's go, boy."

Chapter Text

Music suggestion: At the words "After making some considerable progress" https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k99yOPje1Yo

The next morning, true to his word, Charles texted Sam when he was outside her building.  She was wearing her green wrap dress again - she had recalled how he'd seemed to like that one - along with some tan strappy sandals.  As she walked down her stairs, she thought back to the previous night.  Charles had said she might need to process what had happened, but really the only things she'd thought about were amazement at no longer being a virgin, how it hadn't hurt as much as she'd feared, how it hadn't been what she'd expected, but so much more....and how it had felt to be held against him as she came, feeling him experience his release as well.  She couldn't exactly explain it, but she felt a stronger connection to him, a bit more of an understanding, perhaps.  She noticed that the sky was once again overcast as she walked out to his car, though the feeling of oncoming rain was much less prevalent than the previous day.   She slid into the passenger seat and did up her seatbelt, Charles handing her a coffee.

"Good morning," he smiled.

"Hi," she replied shyly, taking a sip of her coffee, "Oh, hazelnut?"

"The best kind of nut," he commented, pulling away from the curb.

"I think you w-would have begged to differ last night," she quipped.

He jumped, the car swerving a little at her words, then realized them for what they were; she easing herself into the situation using humor.

"Well played," he nodded, catching a glimpse of her smirk.

After a few seconds of more comfortable silence, he said "I was hoping we could spend some time today going over the Indigineer buyout, you can choose morning or afternoon."

"Hmmm, a-afternoon I think," she answered, looking over at him.

"Alright.  Now it will still take a few weeks for things to be brought to order, so I would like to spend that time devising a plan for the future regarding Indigineer.  And to go over the roles and responsibilities you will have to take on once it's complete." He eyed her a bit apprehensively as he spoke, remembering her reaction to when he'd suggested she present to Indigineer, wondering if her inhaler was on hand.

"I th-think that's a great idea," she responded, surprising him.

"So you think you'll be ready then?" he asked cautiously.

"I...I think I might be.  You've already taught me quite a b-bit and...I've felt more confident lately."

"I'm...glad to hear it," he said genuinely, feeling a surge of pride knowing he'd been the one to help her achieve that feeling.

"And actually, this morning I was p-planning on calling back Mr. McNally," he almost drove off the road with that comment.

"You?" he affected a shocked tone, "Talking to a client of your own volition?  Well colour me impressed."

Sam nudged his shoulder lightly, rolling her eyes, "Alright, take it easy."

"Truly though, Samara, I am proud of you," he said sincerely, pulling the car in to park.

"That...means a lot Charles, thank you," she blushed.

They got out and rode the elevator together, Sam entering the office slightly ahead of Charles.  Lucy greeted them both, "Hi Charles, Hey Sam!  Girl, what are you using on your skin, because you are positively glowing!"

Sam's cheeks flushed and she glanced sideways at Charles, whose eyes were twinkling mischievously.

"Uh, n-nothing new, j-just moisturizer."

"I see," Lucy tapped her chin, "And how are you feeling today? More fulfilled than yesterday?"

"Um, w-well I'm definitely feeling b-better today."

Charles was hiding a smirk behind his hand, watching Sam struggle.

"I'll bet you are," continued Lucy, waggling her eyebrows.

"Okay, well, I n-need to go make a phone call," Sam made for her office, Charles behind her.

Lucy pulled an envelope from one of her desk drawers and walked over to Umed's station, depositing it on his keyboard.

"You win this pool," she sighed, "But I got the next one in the bag."

Charles closed the door behind him, commenting, "I think Lucy might be onto us."

"You think?" Sam retorted, "Could you have been any less help?"

"I could have egged her on," he smirked.

Sam pinched the bridge of her nose and inhaled deeply before looking to him again, "Wait, w-what are you doing in here?"

"You really think I would miss my assistant's very first solo call with a client?"

"Fine," she grumbled, rolling her eyes.

She then sat in her desk chair and called through to Lucy, "Hey Luce, can you c-call Mr. McNally for me?"

"Anything to hear that man's voice again," Lucy replied airily.

The sound of ringing filled the room, and Sam began drumming her fingers nervously against her desk.  Charles crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, watching her.

"Hallo?" came the Scotsman's thick accent.

"Hi, Mr. M-McNally? This is Samara Young c-calling about your inquiry f-from last F-Friday."

"Ah, guid mornin' lassie!" he replied cheerfully, "Is Mr. Jones nae there?"

"Ah, he's," she looked over at Charles, "A b-bit preoccupied at the moment."

"Well that's alrigh' then, I'd rather talk to you anywee," Mr. McNally's tone had taken a flirty turn.

"So y-you had a question a-about the, um, the M-MyEqual cluster?" Sam was tripping over her words a bit.

"Tha' I did m'lady, though p'raps we could discuss et over denner sometime?"

Sam blushed and, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Charles' eye twitch, an idea forming in her mind.

"I th-think that can be arranged."

"Pure!" he responded, "Well I'm free tonigh' if you-"

Charles strode over and spoke into the speaker, "The MyEqual cluster will not fail, but if, for whatever reason, you do experience data loss, then you will be compensated."  He then glanced at Sam and he spoke his next words in French, knowing Mr. McNally was fluent as well, "Et elle n’est pas disponible." (*And she is spoken for)

"Ah je ne suis pas surpris, elle a l'air magnifique." (*Ah, I'm not surprised, she sounds beautiful)

"Totalement," (*Utterly) replied Charles, switching back to English, "Feel free to call back with any further questions." 

"I'll be sure to, laddie.  You enjoy your day, the both of yeh!"

"And you as well," Charles responded, then hung up the phone.

He turned to face Sam, expecting for her to be confused, but instead she had her index finger pointing at him as she cried, "J'accuse!"

"...you speak French?" He was floored, he was shocked...he was turned on.

"Oui, monsieur," she replied frostily.

"Well, perhaps you'd care to parler with me sometime?" his tone was suggestive.

"W-we'll see," she smiled mischievously.

"You know, I'm told being able to speak multiple languages means one can speak in tongues," his eyebrow arched.

He could see exactly where her mind was going as her eyes darkened and her cheeks reddened, "Well I-I've got someone you can talk to," her voice was breathy.

"Perhaps I should go back to my office," he said, standing completely still.

"Maybe you should," she replied, "Before things get out of hand."

"I was under the impression you preferred things in hand," he took a step closer.

"Are you sure provoking me here is the best idea?" she leaned forward, and Charles didn't miss the way her breasts pressed against the dress, straining the fabric.

The corner of his mouth quirked upward as he replied, "You're quite right, this really isn't the place," and he walked out, leaving an indignant Sam to her own devices.

She huffed angrily and started shuffling some papers, then busied herself with emails, waiting for an opportunity to get back at Charles.

After lunch, Sam went to Charles' office, knocking on the door lightly.

"Entrez-vous," she heard him call out, a bit of smugness in his voice.

She walked in and closed the door behind her, pulling a chair up beside him at his desk.  He laid some papers out in front of them, gesturing as he said "This is a basic breakdown of the timeline and action plan for Indigineer."

Sam skimmed over the words on each page, mouth turning slightly downward in a small frown, "Very basic," she commented, looking up at him.

"Well I'm not going to do all of the work for you Samara," he raised an eyebrow, "This is to start you off.  It will be up to you to flesh these out.  Granted I will, of course, look them over if you ask."

"Hmm," she chewed her lip, "I d-don't see anything in here about the roles and responsibilities you m-mentioned."

"That I thought we could discuss together," he nodded, opening up a blank Werd document on his computer.

"Okay," she smiled.

After making some considerable progress in their discussion, Sam reached under Charles' desk and placed her hand on his thigh, slowly sliding it upward.  Her fingers were just about brushing the placket of his trousers when she felt his hand on hers, halting it.

"Looking to break the rules again, Bunty?" he teased, squeezing her hand lightly.

"And what r-rules would these be? You'll have to remind m-me," she said huskily.

He leaned forward, voice low, "No fraternizing at work, for one"

"We've already fraternized p-plenty at work."

"That is because you are a bad influence," he swivelled his chair slightly.

"You're one to talk," she scoffed.

"Then I shall remove any impacting variables on my part," he replied, taking his hand off hers, holding it aloft with his other one, "What will it be, Samara?"

She held his gaze as she slowly slid her hand the rest of the way to cup the front of his pants, knowing he couldn't deny she affected him when she felt the firmness there.  She didn't see any change in his expression, but he was suddenly standing, her hand falling into her lap.  She watched, curious, as he pulled a large binder from a shelf and dropped it onto his desk in front of his chair, papers blown sideways from the force of the air gust it created.  He sat back down and opened it to a particular page.  She opened her mouth to ask him what he was looking for, but was forestalled when he grabbed her arm and pulled her up into his lap so she was straddling his legs, her back to his chest.

"Charles what-" she started to ask, but was cut off when he reached forward and pointed to the top of the page, index finger tapping on the paper.

"You are going to read these rules aloud, Bunty, so you know exactly which ones you are breaking," his tone was commanding, voice deep.

"Well th-that doesn't seem too-"

Again she stopped mid-sentence, this time because his hands had started gliding up her inner thighs beneath her dress, fingers brushing the edges of her underwear.  His breath ghosted over her neck, inspiring goosebumps, as he said "If you stop reading, or stumble on your words even a little, there will be consequences," his voice was quiet, but no less compelling.

He dragged one finger along the front of her panties, very lightly drawing figure eights over her clit.  The fabric barrier and lightness of the pressure both teased and frustrated Sam; it wasn't enough.  She tried to rock her hips forward into his touch, but he pulled his fingers away, hands gripping her thighs and holding her in place.  She exhaled through her nose then leaned forward, beginning to read the document out loud.

"The f-following is a list of b-behaviours that Young Technologies considers una-acceptable," her breath hitched as Charles' finger traced its way back to her clit, once again swirling patterns, though with more pressure this time.  "F-failure to be at the w-work pla-hace, ready to..mmm.." she couldn't help it as he'd moved to slide his sinuously curving digit beneath the dampened material of her underwear.  He halted its movement the moment she'd broken away from the text, and Sam bit her lip, picking up where she left off, "to work, at the re-hegular start-ting time."

"Punctuality," he whispered, middle finger of one hand massaging her clit while the other hand stroked along her folds, slick with her arousal, "Is very important to me."

"Hah!" she breathed, gripping the edges of the desk hard, "U-using company equi-hipment in an unauthoriiiiiized manner."

"I suppose I can give you a pass for that one," she could feel him smirk against her neck, "I did give you authorization."

"Ahhh Charles," she groaned softly, willing her eyes to focus on the next line as one of his fingers swept just inside of her entrance, "Ref-fuuuusing or f-failing to carry out, fuck!"  She'd lost it when he'd pushed his previously teasing finger deep inside of her in one shot.  But the instant she'd stopped reading, he held it still.  Sam tried again to move her hips, whispering, "Please," but he held her fast.

"You know my terms, Samara," he scolded softly.

She cleared her throat and picked up again, voice trembling when he resumed his movement, "To carrrrrrrry out a-any instructions of a s-supervisor."

"You're already doing better with that one," he smirked, adding more pressure to the hand working her clit, building up a rhythm with the other.

"I-ignoring wo-hork dut-ties or l-loafing during w-work hours," she gasped as he inserted a second finger inside of her.

"That one's on me," he commented blithely, pistoning his fingers at an increasing pace.

Sam inhaled shakily, then continued, "F-fighting or engaaaaa...engage...oh f-fuck Charles, I'm c-close."

"I know," he kissed her neck.

Suddenly, they both froze as Lucy opened the door and walked in, looking down at her tablet, "Charles, Mr. Young wants you over at the Queen Street subsidiary, it seems they're having issues with..." she trailed off as she looked up, seeing Sam seemingly sitting in Charles' lap.  Luckily, she couldn't see what was going on below the desk, but she could see that Charles' hands were out of sight, and Sam looked quite flushed.

"Lucy-" Charles tried.

"This isn't-" started Sam at the same time.

Lucy just grinned mischievously at both of them, walking backwards toward the door.  She grabbed the door handle, getting out a smug, "Carry on," before closing it.  They both heard the click of her locking it for them, silent another moment longer.

"M-maybe we sh-ah!" she cried out, covering her mouth with her hand as Charles' hands had picked up where they'd left off.

"I believe you once told me to finish what I started," his voice travelling straight from her ear to fuel the currently burning need between her legs, "Just across the hall, as I recall."

"Charles," she breathed.

He moved his penetrating digits in a rocking motion, curving upward to deliver friction to the exact spot she needed it while his other fingers ran sensuous rings around her clit.  He could feel her walls tightening around his fingers, her hips jerking against him.  He bit down on the lower curve of her neck and felt her tense up, a reverently whispered, "Charles," slipping from her lips as her entire body was wracked with spasms.  He coaxed her down with slower, gentler versions of what he'd previously been doing until the shivers lessened and her breathing calmed.  She leaned back against him and he held her there, hands on her thighs, as she said "I can't believe Lucy walked in on us."

"I can't believe you didn't lock the door," Charles retorted lightheartedly.

Sam suddenly started giggling, which quickly became full laughter that spread to Charles, both letting go in the moment.  Once the chuckles petered out, Sam stood, straightening her dress.  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Charles bring the fingers that had been inside of her to his mouth, taking her taste with his tongue.  The action caused her knees to weaken and she had to lean on the desk momentarily.

"Perhaps it would be best if we start following those rules," he said, tapping a finger on the binder.

"But where's the fun in that?" she asked coyly, gathering up the papers and notes they'd made into her arms.

"We could get caught...again," his voice was directly in her ear as he stepped up behind her.

She turned her head, glancing sideways at him, "I'll remember to lock the door next time."

He couldn't help it, standing in the very same position they’d once held in her office what seemed like ages ago; he had to curve one hand around her hip while the other cupped her jaw, bringing her lips to his for a passionate embrace.  He kept it relatively short, delivering a final peck to her forehead before releasing her.

"I suppose I should go and see what this 'issue' is at the subsidiary.  I'll likely be gone the rest of the day," he sighed.

"I guess I'll get some actual work done then," she smiled.

"Cheeky," he admonished, eyes dancing with amusement.

"Will I see you tonight?"

"That depends on what I have to deal with at Queen Street."

"Fair," she nodded.

"I will be in touch," he said sincerely, then gestured for her to precede him out of his office.

She walked ahead, stopping in front of the door as her arms were full of papers.  He stepped past her and unlocked and opened the door, holding it for her.  She made a beeline for her office, avoiding looking in Lucy's direction.

"I'm heading over to Queen Street," Charles told Lucy as he walked past her desk, "I'll be there the rest of the day, please forward my calls to Miss Young."

"I bet that's not all you want forwarded to Miss Young," Lucy said under her breath.

"What was that?" asked Charles, one foot out the door.

"Nothing, I got it covered," she called, waving goodbye.  Then, once he'd left, she rubbed her hands together, "That pool is as good as mine."

Sam took the bus home, resolving to not tell Charles about it.  She'd grown accustomed to riding home with him, and now the bus felt stuffy, crowded, and loud.  He had texted earlier to say that he would be late at the subsidiary and not to wait up for him.  Sam got off at her stop, stretching her arms out slightly, enjoying not having people pressed up against her.  She decided to stop in at The Daily Grind on the way to her apartment, feeling a late afternoon pick-me-up would give her more of a boost to work further on Evermake.  She walked in and saw Angela at the counter, smiling bashfully at Link while Dee smiled at the both of them.

"Hey guys!" Sam called as she walked over.

"Hey girl," Dee grinned.

"Hi Sam," said Link.

"Damn!" exclaimed Angela, eyeing Sam's dress, "That dress works for you Sam."

"Th-thanks," she blushed, noting Angela was in her scrubs, "Did you just finish work?"

"No I'm heading there now," Angela sighed, then she pointed at Sam, "I still want to hear about what happened with that photo."

Dee and Link looked at each other confusedly, Link mouthing 'photo?'

"Y-you'll definitely get d-details," Sam stammered, trying to change the subject, "Did you see what Abe posted online?"

"Ya the selfie of him with that blonde girl! Apparently her name is Marie, and he's convinced that she's, like, his soulmate or something," replied Angela excitedly.

"Well good for him," nodded Sam.

"Agreed," smiled Angela, "Alright everyone, I'm off to work."

They waved goodbye and Dee asked, "Hot chocolate for you, Sam?"

"Latte actually," she replied, "I need some energy."

"Coming right up," Dee grinned.

Sam turned to Link then, and asked "So how are things going with Angela?"

Link blushed, causing Sam to laugh, "H-how did you know?"

"Because I'm not blind" she replied, then tapped her glasses, "Not with these on anyway."

"It's...well it's new," Link responded, mouth curved upward in a smile, "But I care about her a lot."

"I'm happy for you," Sam smiled.

"Really?" asked Link, "Even though I..."

"It's in the past," Sam waved a hand, "And we're back to being friends, right?"

"Right," he nodded.

"And one vanilla bean latte for my lil' vanilla bean," smiled Dee, handing Sam her drink.

"Thanks Dee," she grinned then made for the door, "I'm going to head home, but I'll see you guys later!" 

They all waved and she walked out, making for her apartment.  Once home, she changed her clothes then took Bowser on a quick walk around the block while she finished her coffee.  On the way back, her phone buzzed with a text from 'Cantankerous Old Goat' which read 'I am going to be stuck here until the end of time...it looks like I'm unavailable this evening.'

Her heart both fell slightly, yet was buoyed that he'd taken the time to let her know, even sounding disappointed.  'That's alright, Charles,' she replied, 'I'll find something to occupy my time.'

Back in her apartment, with Bowser settled on the couch watching Dogumentaries on Netpix, Sam started working on Evermake.  She became so absorbed in her work that she didn't surface for 3 hours, head snapping up suddenly to a knock on the door.  She opened it to see Marshall just outside.

"Hey Sam," he smiled, "Are you busy?"

"No, just working on Everma-"

"Perfect!" he shouted, grabbing her wrist and pulling her behind him.  

She barely had time to close her door as she followed him over to his apartment, him leading her to his computer.  He pulled up a chair to his desk, indicating for her to sit.  She did so, and he took a seat in his desk chair, "I downloaded some new digital art software and started working on art for Evermake," he turned the monitor to face her, "What do you think?"

She took in the images, feeling happiness well up within her, "Marshall, those are amazing! They're better than I imagined!"

"Heh" he rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed, "Well they're not quite final drafts yet, but I'm glad you like them."

"I love them!"

He showed her the rest of his work, Sam giving him further ideas pertaining to some of the work she'd done recently.  They bounced a few things off of each other, and would have probably talked about it well into the night, except her phone started ringing.  She pulled it out of her pocket and looked at the screen.

"There's a goat calling you?" Marshall asked, having seen her phone.

"Aha," she laughed, "Not quite."  She swiped to answer the call, "Hi Charles."

"Ohhhh him," said Marshall.

"Is someone with you?" asked Charles.

"Oh it's Marshall.  He was showing me some art for Evermake," Sam answered.

"Ah, Ben.  I remember you mentioning that, I'm glad he's able to help you move your project forward."

"M-me too," she blushed.

"Sam and Char-uls sittin' in a tree," Marshall started singing in the background, clasping his hands under his chin.

"Got any way to shut him up?" asked Charles.

"Not at the moment," she laughed.

"Hey by the way, tell that Cantankerous Old Goat to buy you some soundproofing if he's gonna make you scream like that again," teased Marshall.

Sam blushed, her jaw dropping, not helped when Charles recovered and asked "...how does he know about that name?"

"Umm...I'll call you back," said Sam, hanging up the phone, then turned to Marshall, "You...you heard us?"

"I could hear your computer porn noises remember?" he grinned, "And you, surprisingly, are much louder than that."

"Oh my god," she threw her hands over her face.

"So how was it?" asked Marshall, wearing a shit-eating grin.

"I'm n-not answering that!" she exclaimed.

"That good eh?" teased Marshall.

Sam just shot him a glare in response, then "I should probably go and call him back."

"Yeah maybe, or else he might start bleating in anger."

Sam couldn't help but laugh at that one.  On the way to the door, Marshall took on a thoughtful countenance and said, "I'm...I've got a date with Monica tomorrow."

"She mentioned that, I'm happy for you guys," Sam smiled.

"I'm going to take her to The Daily Grind," Marshall blushed.

"Dee will take care of you," Sam said encouragingly.

"Thanks Sam," he said genuinely, "For everything.  Oh! And I...uh...I spoke to Vikki about counselling.  I have an appointment this Friday."

"How do you feel about it?" she asked.

"Pretty good, I think.  At the very least, it'll be a learning experience."

"Good," she smiled warmly, startled when Marshall pulled her in for a hug.

She awkwardly reached behind him and patted his back a few times, voice muffled as she said "Let me know w-when you're ready for incorporating the a-art into the game."

"Yes ma'am," he stepped back and gave a mock salute.

"Seeya Marshall."

"Later, Sam."

Sam dialled Charles as she walked into her apartment, locking the door behind her.

He picked up on the first ring, "I believe you owe me an answer, Miss Young."

Sam felt a shiver run along her spine at the way he'd said 'Miss Young,' "Am I in trouble?" she teased.

"Are you looking to be punished?"

She blushed furiously at his words, and the fact that they'd made her squeeze her legs together, and decided to steer away from that particular topic...for now, "I ch-changed your name in my phone."

"I beg your pardon?" he was obviously thrown by the sudden subject change.

"That's how Marshall knew, he saw my screen when you called."

"You...you changed my name in your phone to read 'Cantankerous Old Goat'? ...I honestly don't know whether to laugh or be unimpressed, tell you the truth."

Sam snorted at his reply and he chuckled, adding, "I suppose it could be worse, like if you'd made it say 'COG'."

"It took me a bit of time to decide between the two," she teased.

"Of course it did," she could practically hear him rolling his eyes.

"How did it go at Queen Street?" she asked, sitting on her couch.

"We managed to resolve some of the issues today, but I'll be there all of tomorrow as well.  I don't know how he managed it, but one of the programmers here was coding a large project for TekTok and added several redundant strings which kept causing problems on the client's end.  I worked on smoothing things over with TekTok while he searched through for the mistakes.  I've asked Umed to come and help us out tomorrow; that man is a genius with code."

"I-I could have helped you," Sam said quietly, slightly hurt that he hadn't asked.

"My mind went to you first, Bunty," his voice was soft, "But I will need you to lead in my stead tomorrow at the main office.  Perhaps think of it as practice for Indigineer."

Sam smiled shyly at his words, then frowned, "Will I have to deal with any clients face to face?"

"I didn't have any meetings scheduled for tomorrow," Charles teased, "So don't you worry."

Sam let out an audible sigh of relief and there was a bit of a silence, before Charles continued, "I had hoped to see you tomorrow night, but since our club won the fencing championships, my coaching has been a bit higher in demand and I have some lessons scheduled"

"That's okay, Charles, how about Thursday night?" suggested Sam.

"Thursday evening I'm all yours," he replied.

"We could go to your place?"

"Alright.  We could pick up a few things for dinner on the way."

"It's a d-" she caught herself before she said 'date', "P-plan...it's a plan," she finished lamely.

If Charles had caught on, he certainly didn’t show it, glossing over the fumble as he said "Let me know how things go tomorrow, hopefully nothing comes up," he was unable to completely stifle a small yawn as he spoke.

"I will.  Sounds like it's way past your bedtime, Charles," she teased. 

"Indeed," he agreed, "I will speak with you tomorrow.  Sleep well, Bunty."

"Sweet dreams, Charles.

Wednesday morning went by fairly uneventfully for Sam, having only had to answer some emails and go over a few programming updates with Alex and Kwang-Sun.  There had been one phone call from a client, but it was regarding a tech issue that Sam had easily been able to fix over the phone for them...especially considering it had been a user error.  In the early afternoon, her partly opened office door swung further and Lucy peeked around it, making a big show of looking into the office.

"Just letting you know, I'm coming in," smirked the redhead as she moved to lean against the wall by Sam's desk.

"Charles isn't here today," Sam replied, voice flat.

"You're sure you don't have him hiding under your desk?" Lucy waggled her eyebrows.

Sam coughed, blushing as she exclaimed, "Lucy!"

"What?" shrugged Lucy, "You could do with some relaxation of those tense muscles."

Sam pinched the bridge of her nose over her glasses, just as she'd often made Charles do, and said "Can we just pretend you didn't see anything yesterday?"

"Hmm," Lucy stroked her chin, "Only if you come for lunch with me."

"Alright," smiled Sam.  

She locked her computer and stood, grabbing her bag as she followed Lucy.  

"I hope you like French food," Lucy said over her shoulder as she led the way out the front entryway, "There's a bellissimo French cafe not far from here."

"Isn't that Italian?" Sam asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Cafe? No I don't think so," replied Lucy.

Sam just shook her head amusedly as they walked the few blocks to the cafe, Lucy pointing out other various food places she'd tried and loved...or in one case, fallen in love at.  The weather had cleared up and the sun felt warm on Sam's face.  They stopped outside of a quaint stone building with a gorgeous-looking patio, displaying a black awning that read 'Le Cafe Charmant'. 

"Lucy, this looks great!" smiled Sam, taking in the lights, the greenery, and the music playing in the background.

"Come on," beckoned the redhead, "I'll show you my favourite table."

Once they were seated, a pitcher of ice water on the table, and two lattes ordered, Sam asked, "Why is this your favourite table?"

Lucy had her chin propped on her hand, staring dreamily into the restaurant, pointing with her other hand, "Him."

Sam followed where she was pointing and got a clear view of a tall, lean, raven-haired man in an apron, rolling out pastry dough.  She turned back to stare at Lucy, an eyebrow raised "What happened to the delivery guy?"

"Well I can't limit myself to just one man, Sam, that would be doing the world a disservice," Lucy scoffed, "Besides, this one's just so pretty."

Sam laughed and sipped her water, images of pretty blue eyes and platinum blond hair flashing through her mind.  She turned suddenly, almost spilling her drink, when a familiar voice sounded behind her, "Sorry I'm late, things got a bit complicated at Queen Street."

"Better late than never," said Lucy, still staring at the pastry chef.

"Hi Umed," smiled Sam, shifting her chair slightly as Umed pulled one up for himself.

"Hey Sam," he replied, "Y'know, I tried convincing Charles to come for lunch, but he said he didn't have time.  I bet if I told him you'd be here, it would be a different story."
"I d-doubt that," she blushed.

"I don't," shrugged Umed, a sense of finality in his tone.

Before Sam could ask him why he was so sure, the waiter showed up with their coffees and took their lunch orders; Lucy getting the crepes, Umed opting for foie gras, and Sam liking the sound of the ratatouille. 

Once the waiter had gone, they dug into the complimentary fresh baguette with house-made butter, Sam asking, "So what's happening at Queen Street? You said it got complicated? I heard about the redundant strings.

"Umed sighed and cut off a slice of bread, "Well it seems that same programmer, Henri, somehow managed to add more redundant strings in the process of deleting the first ones...and accidentally made several dead-end loops on top of it."

"I bet Charles loved that," said Sam sarcastically, then snorted as Umed dramatically imitated the Welshman pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing.

"He's had a rough time," Umed added then glared at Lucy, "I wish I'd known you were coming to lunch, Sam, it would have brightened his day I think."

"What was that about coming?" Lucy smirked, eyes still on the tall dark-haired man currently piping out macarons.

They all laughed and Sam said, "Are you going to talk to him? Or just stare."

"Oh I'm going to talk to him...but after we eat so I can make a dramatic exit," Lucy grinned wickedly, "Besides I need to come up with a ballin' pickup line."

"Maybe you could say how much you liked his baguette?" joked Sam.

"Ooooh that's good," Lucy clapped.

"Or that you'd like to visit his Eiffel Tower," said Umed.

"You two are geniuses," Lucy grinned.

They continued coming up with pick-up lines until their food arrived, the tantalizing aroma enough to silence the three of them as they dug into their meals.  The food wasn't long for the world and they ordered dessert when the waiter asked, getting a sharer plate containing eclairs, mille-feuille, and mini creme brulees.

"French food is so divine," Lucy gushed, taking a bite of mille-feuille.

"Agreed," Sam nodded, cracking the burnt sugar coating on one of the creme brulees.

"There's nothing quite like it," added Umed as he finished off an eclair.

"Alright," Lucy smacked her palms on the table after they'd paid their bills, "I'm going to see the chef."

"Bonne chance," Sam waved.

"Oh boy," muttered Umed, "This should be interesting."

They both watched their redheaded friend approach the serious-looking pastry chef, though his expression seemed to soften slightly on Lucy introducing herself.  They exchanged a few words and then Lucy handed him a piece of paper - likely with her phone number on it - and said something that caused his cheeks to go bright red.  She then jauntily pushed her glasses up on her nose and pivoted, walking out, leaving the flustered looking chef behind her.  When she rejoined them, all three walking off the patio, Sam asked, "What did you say that made him go so red?"

"Only the most classic French pick-up line ever," Lucy smirked, "Voulez-vous couchez avec moi, ce soir?"

Umed immediately burst out laughing, as did Sam, managing to say "Lucy, do you even know what that means?" in between her giggles.

"Nope!" Lucy shook her head, wiggling her fingers "But I bet it's saucy."

They parted ways, Sam telling Umed to say hi to Charles for her, and she and Lucy went back to Young Technologies.  The rest of the day seemed to fly by and Sam was soon powering down her desktop, throwing her bag over her shoulder before heading out.  She had planned to take the bus, but when she stepped outside, she saw a familiar black car parked out front.  She walked over and tapped on the window, a tired pair of blue eyes meeting hers as it rolled down, "Excuse me, sir, can you tell me how to get to the bus stop?" she asked innocently.

"Why take the bus when there's a seat for you right here?" he asked, subtly placing a finger on his lips, eyebrow raising suggestively.

Sam blushed hard and got into the car, surprised when Charles leaned over and pulled her in for a quick kiss.  He looked surprised himself as he pulled away, rouging with a blush of his own.

"Don't you have fencing lessons tonight?" she asked.

"I do, I just wanted to-" the words 'see you' attempted to escape past his lips, but he held them in, instead finishing with "Make sure you got home safely."

Sam smiled in return, lightly squeezing his hand, "I heard you had a rough day."

"It was frustrating, to say the least," he sighed, running his hand through his hair, ruffling it, "But it's all been sorted now.  Needless to say, Henri will not be making that mistake again."

"You didn't..." Sam trailed off, afraid of being right.

"Fire him? No. Make him sit in the corner and think about what he'd done? Perhaps." Charles quipped, shifting the car into gear.

Sam laughed, picturing him doing just that.

"I heard I missed out on some French cuisine," commented Charles.

"It was merveilleux," (*marvellous) she responded, glancing at him.

"T'es vraiment impertinent," (*You're very cheeky) he replied, the corner of his mouth upturned.

"You did call me a rule-breaker earlier," she said coyly.

"Shall I have you read the rulebook again?" his voice deepened, Sam feeling instantly damp between her legs.

"M-maybe you should read it to me," she rasped.

"While reading and driving don't mix particularly well," his tone had a sultry quality to it Sam wasn't sure she'd heard before...she found it greatly affected her, "I might have a passage or something tucked away in this chaotic mind of mine."

Sam didn't even hear the soft, "Please," that slipped through her lips, riding on her exhale.

Charles racked his brain, thinking back to a poem he'd once read in a time when he was a different person, a shadow of who he was now, the words clicking the instant he grasped them.

"In dim of shadow, 'neath shine of light,
I hide, we hide, away from sight
A start, my touch, caressed within
A phantom kiss upon your skin
Echoes of your vision cast
To hold, to wonder will it last
Whispered plea, a move combined
Our breath, as fate, now intertwined
Until, the sun calls your return
I stay and in the darkness, burn."

They had pulled up to Sam's building on the last line, and she turned to look at him with an unreadable expression, "I...I'll burn with you."

He didn't have words to answer her with, though they weren't needed as she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his; a sweet kiss.  She pulled back and he ran the side of his thumb along her cheek.  The moment was broken when his phone rang loudly.  He checked the screen then answered it quickly, making a gesture of apology to Sam.

"I'm on my way...30 minutes?! Alright, I'll be there soon," he hung up the phone and sighed, "One of the lessons tonight was pushed 30 minutes earlier because of scheduling issues, so I'm going to have to hurry."

"Have fun tonight, COG," she smirked, noting the glare she received in return, "Don't let the kids beat you too much."

"Hardly," he sniffed.

Sam grinned and grabbed her bag, hopping out quickly.  She waved goodbye as he drove off, then made for her apartment, receiving an armful of happy Bowser the minute she opened her door.  She took him on a decent walk, stopping in, as per usual, at The Daily Grind.  She walked up to the counter and, on seeing that Link was by himself, asked "No Dee today?"

"She had a dentist appointment earlier, but she'll be in shortly I think.  I told her not to rush, though she seems to want to be here before 6 pm for some reason.  Latte?"

Sam nodded and smiled, "That's when Monica and Marshall are coming in for their date, I texted her about it this morning.  She said she wanted to 'witness the love'."

They both chuckled and Bowser barked excitedly at Link, tail wagging furiously.  

"It's good to see you too, boy," Link smiled, scratching him behind the ears.

"Did you see Angela again last night?" asked Sam.

“N-no…" Link blushed.

"Y’know, you’re not very good at lying."

"This coming from the worst liar I've ever met," laughed Link.

Sam shrugged and laughed along with him, then she had a thought, "Oh! Do you remember how I had that idea for an app game?"

"I do! Are you finished?"

"Not quite, but it's getting there, and Marshall is doing the art for me," Sam tucked her hair behind her ear.

"Well considering what he drew for us here, then it must be looking great!" Link grinned, finishing up her drink.

"W-will you be a beta tester?" she questioned shyly.

"Do you really need to ask?" he raised an eyebrow at her, passing her the latte.

"I'll let you know as soon as it's ready," she nodded, beaming as she made for the door.

"Can't wait!" he called after her.

Sam spent the next few hours watching random shows on Netpix while she cleaned her apartment and did some laundry.  At around 9 pm, she was walking past her front door when she heard a pair of familiar voices outside, followed by a silence, then a door closing.  She was about to take a peek, when a knock sounded on her door, startling her slightly.  She opened it to see a blushing Monica, and gestured for her to come inside.

"Hi Monica, how was your date?" she asked, sitting with her friend on the couch.

"It was...it was so amazing, kiddo.  We talked a lot, and really got to know each other, which is all I truly wanted" Monica gushed, "Oh and that beautiful barista, Dee, kept giving us free baked goods that were cut into heart shapes."

Sam laughed, "That sounds like Dee, she's a big fan of love."

"Well it was infectious," nodded Monica, "I even walked Marshall home after."

"And...?" prompted Sam, certain there was more to it.

"And we kissed goodnight," Monica smiled almost shyly.

"That's my girl," Sam grinned.

"What about you? What happened with the pic?" Monica asked excitedly.

"Heh, well...let's call Angela and Vikki, I'll tell all of you."

"Good idea," nodded Monica, pulling out her phone.  

She dialed Angela for a video call, the redhead picking up on the second ring, "What up bish? Oh hey Sam!"

"Hi Angela, is Vikki there?" asked Sam.

"Yeah, she needs to put clothes on first though," they could see Angela shooting a glare off-screen.

Monica looked oddly at Sam, who shrugged and whispered, "She likes to be 'free'."

Vikki suddenly appeared beside Angela, trademark smile on her face, "Hello Sam, Monica!"

"Hey Vikki," answered Monica, "Sam was just about to tell me what happened with the naughty pic we helped her take."

"Oooohhh,” Vikki clapped her hands, "Let's hear it!"

Sam proceeded to tell them about Charles' reaction, as well as a pared-down version of what happened after.

"That's...kinda hot, actually," commented Angela.

"Not as hot as the r-real thing was," said Sam, covering her ears when all three of her friends simultaneously yelled "WHAT?!"

Sam then told them about her first time with Charles, starting when he'd tried to leave, sparing only some details as her friends plied her for most of them.

"I...need a glass of water," said Angela when Sam finished.

"Sam that's exciting! I'm glad your first time was so good," Vikki smiled.

"Way to go, kiddo," grinned Monica, chucking Sam lightly on the chin.

"Thanks guys," she blushed.

They all talked a bit longer, including about Monica's date with Marshall, before ending the call.  Monica stood to leave and Sam asked, "Have you guys planned the next date?"

"I think this weekend," Monica beamed, "Maybe dinner this time."

"Well tell me all about it after," said Sam, walking her to the door.

"I'm so glad you're in my life," Monica blurted, pulling Sam into a hug.

"M-me too," Sam smiled softly, returning the embrace.

"Talk to ya soon, kiddo," winked Monica as she opened the door and walked out into the hallway.

Sam waved until she was out of sight, then closed the door.  She went to her bedroom and realized she'd left her phone on the bed, the notification light blinking on the top right corner.  She picked it up and saw a text from Charles, 'I'm back at home, finally.  Call me when you see this, if you can.'

Sam checked the time and saw that he'd sent it over an hour ago, and it was getting pretty late.  He had asked though, so she called him.  It rang through to voicemail; Sam hung up before leaving a message, not entirely sure what she would say.  She typed out a quick text, 'I saw this a bit late, sorry.  I guess old goats sleep pretty heavily.  See you in the morning.'

She then got into her pajamas, brushed her teeth, set her alarm, and crawled into bed.  She drifted off to the images her memory supplied of Charles being in that very bed with her only days ago, her dreams inventing new ones as she fell into them.

Chapter Text

Music suggestion: At the words "They bid a quick goodbye" https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XkgzZ67MHYs

Sam woke up to a text from Charles that morning which read, 'I'll have you know, we 'old goats' sleep like the dead.  I am sorry to have missed your call, however.'  She answered with 'I'll try to be more punctual next time,' smiling all of the rest of the way through her morning routine.  She pulled on an outfit that was part Monica, part herself; a black pencil skirt that came up to her waist over the hem of a loose, gray, sleeveless blouse with a dipping neckline.  She paired the ensemble with a thin, cream-coloured cardigan and her beige heels.  She decided to leave her hair down for a change, watching it fall into natural waves after she brushed it.  She called out goodbye to Bowser then locked up her apartment, down the stairs and walking toward Charles' car within minutes.  She could see him through the side window, he was looking back at her, his mouth slightly open.  She got into the passenger’s seat, seeing him adjusting his tie as he greeted her, "Good morning Samara, how are you?"

"I’m pretty good, I think," she answered, "H-how are you?"

"Better," he said simply, putting the car into gear, "Was there much you had to deal with yesterday?"

"No, I was able to handle it, for the most part."

"I thought as much," he smiled, "Now, I have a few video conference calls to make with clients today, I'd like you to attend them with me."

Sam's eyes widened slightly as she looked at him, "W-will I have to present?"

"No," he said reassuringly, "Though I would like you to run the Q & A portion, answering any questions they might have."

"What if I don't know the answer?" she asked nervously.

"I will be there with you," he replied, gaze sweeping over her.

"Okay," she nodded.

There was silence for a few moments, then Charles asked "What would you like for dinner this evening?"

"You," she blurted out before her filter could kick in.  She stared out the window, mortified, cheeks burning as they pulled into the Young Technologies garage.  She jumped when she felt his hand on her knee, thumb tracing circles over her skin in a familiar pattern as she turned to see his darkened eyes on her.

"That can be arranged," his voice was deep and full of seductive promises, drawing her in.

The tension was palpable as they leaned toward each other, ever so slowly through a charged atmosphere.  There was no way of knowing what would have happened next, however, as a knock sounded on the window.  They both looked to see Umed waving at them through the glass.

"Hi Umed!" called a flustered Sam as she got out, Charles doing the same.

"Hey guys," he smirked, "Was I interrupting something?"

"N-no!" exclaimed Sam at the same time as Charles said "Yes."

Umed laughed and walked with them over to the elevator, "Some of us office peeps are going out for food and drinks tonight, you guys should join!"

Sam looked at Charles, who said, "What do you think, Samara?"

She thought for a minute, then smiled "I think it would be fun!"

"Excellent," grinned Umed, "We're going to an arcade bar downtown called '8-Bitters'.  It's got a little something for everyone, plus tonight is piano karaoke. And there's probably even a stuffy armchair in a corner surrounded by books for you, old man," he said to Charles.

"Umed, we're practically the same age," Charles rolled his eyes.

"Maybe physically," retorted Umed.

They got off the elevator, Sam and Umed laughing while Charles held back a smile.  Umed fist-bumped Lucy as he walked past her desk, Charles and Sam just behind him.

"Guess who's got a date with a pastry chef tonight?" Lucy waggled her eyebrows at Sam.

"Wow, I guess that line really worked," laughed Sam.

"I always reel 'em in eventually...hook, line, and sink right into-"

"Right," Charles interjected loudly, cutting off what was likely to be something less than subtle, "Miss Young, we have some video calls to make."

Lucy winked at Sam, who returned the gesture before following after Charles.

"I'll go grab some coffee," said Sam, seeing him nod before entering the board room to set up for their video conferences.

She joined him a few minutes later with two steaming mugs, setting them on the table as she sat beside Charles, the lens of the laptop computer aimed their way.

"Are you ready?" he asked softly.

"L-let's do this," she nodded once.

To Sam's relief, the video calls all went smoothly, she'd even been able to answer most of the questions herself.  She'd also surprised herself when, near the end of the last call, she'd actually presented a little without realizing it; also not noticing the Welshman beside her struggling to hide a large grin behind his hand as she did so.  Charles checked the time as he put away the laptop, noting it was already 4 pm, "Perhaps we should check our respective emails, seeing as we've been busy all day."

"I've probably got a bunch waiting for me," Sam nodded in agreement.

They left the boardroom, Charles stepping into his office as Sam disappeared into hers.  While he scrolled through the plethora of emails waiting in his inbox, thumb beneath his chin and index finger across his lips, his thoughts wandered to how difficult it was now to hold back.  How it was becoming harder to ignore the burgeoning habit of being in constant physical contact with Sam.  He'd lost count of the amount of times he'd had to still his hand from resting on her leg during the video conference calls; the reminder of all of the large open windows in the board room acting as a crutch for his self-control.  The whole feel of it left him apprehensive, and wary; as if to let his guard down so much around Sam would be to invite the inevitable heartache that came with it.  'Perhaps we should slow down on the frequency with which we see each other', he thought, even as his mind loudly clamored against the very idea.  He darkly speculated that at this point, he wouldn't be able to stay away anyways, that he'd already introduced her to the pull of his shadows as her words from the day before amplified his bitter introspection, "'I...I'll burn with you'."   

He harshly raked his hand through his hair, letting out a "Tch!" before re-ordering the errant strands.  He brought his attention back to the work in front of him, answering the high-priority emails and leaving the rest for the following day.  Soon after, he looked up to the sound of knuckles tapping out the rhythm to 'shave and a haircut' on the doorframe, seeing Umed walk in while singing "Eight biiiiiiits."

"Isn't it supposed to be 'two bits'?" Charles raised an eyebrow at him.

"I was making a joke," Umed crossed his arms haughtily.

"A dismal one at that," Charles commented, lips quirked upward.

"We're heading over to 8-Bitters now," Umed replied, slowly sliding the lamp on Charles' desk a little to the left, "Just wanted to make sure you hadn't come up with some excuse to bail."

Charles rolled up a piece of paper from his desk and rapped Umed's knuckles with it, sliding the lamp back to its original spot, "Samara and I will be leaving shortly to join you at 8-Bitters, I have no intention of backing out."

"Excellent," Umed gave him a double thumbs-up, "Then I'll see you there."

Charles shook his head amusedly at Umed's retreating back, gathering his things and stepping out of his office, almost walking straight into Sam.

"I was just coming to get you," she tucked a stand of hair behind her ear.

He gestured for her to precede him toward the exit, "Shall we?"

Sam and Charles walked into 8-Bitters together, noting the look of it.  It was a large gray stone and brick establishment, with half of the front wall giving way to tall windows, lending a clear view of the interior.  It was a cozy combination of arcade games, new and old, with comfy-looking booths and several pool tables.  In the back corner, there was a dance floor upon which stood a baby grand piano, a beautiful woman in a dark green pantsuit currently playing it.  The atmosphere inside was almost like that of a speakeasy, albeit mixed with the sounds of arcade games.  Sam took it in, eyes lighting up as she turned to Charles, "I love this."

"It certainly exceeds the expectations I'd had," he commented.

They saw Umed waving them over to a large booth near the piano and went to sit, Charles indicating for Sam to slide in ahead of him, Lucy on her other side.  Umed handed them a couple of menus, saying "The deep fried pickles are pretty great, though I think the goat cheese balls are my fave."

"Is there anything on this menu that hasn't been deep-fried?" Charles asked, eyebrow raised disapprovingly.

"Yeah I think there's a section at the back for seniors," Umed quipped.

Sam laughed as she looked over hers, settling on the goat cheese balls and chicken quesadilla.  The waiter came and took their orders, everyone staring at Charles after he'd asked for the cedar-planked salmon on a bed of rice, requesting that his vegetables be steamed instead of sauteed.  He ignored their expressions as he sipped his newly delivered scotch, pinky raised.

"You're such a priss," commented Umed, sliding off the bench so that Alex, Kwang-Sun, and Freddie could get out, the former two making their way over to the air hockey table, while the latter went for the BDR (Boogie Down Revolution).  

"Lucy," asked Sam, "Didn't you say you have a date with that pastry chef tonight?"

"He's meeting us here later," Lucy grinned, her hands on her cheeks "He has to finish his shift, but he's going to bring me some goodies."

"You really struck gold there, Luce," nodded Jake as he sipped his beer.

"Maison D'Or," she breathed, eyes glazed over as the others chuckled.

When the food arrived at the table, everyone who had left returned, all digging in to their meals; except for Charles, who methodically ate his with a knife and fork, napkin on his lap.

"These are delicious," commented Sam on taking a bite of one of the goat cheese balls.

"I know right?" agreed Umed, chewing on his own. 

"Charles, you've got to try this," said Sam, scooping a small, melty piece onto her fork and holding it up to Charles.

"I...I'd rather not," his lip curled.

"Please?" Sam asked, flashing him her puppy dog eyes.

He sighed and bent his head forward, taking the morsel into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully; neither he nor Sam seeing the secretive grins exchanged around the table.

"What do you think?" asked Umed.

"It...doesn't make me immediately want to be sick," Charles replied.

"Typical," snorted Umed, Sam giggling.

As their dinner plates were cleared, some of them looked over the dessert menu while others went back to the arcade games.

"Interesting," remarked Charles, "They make crème brulée here."

"Well you did miss out on it earlier," teased Sam.

"Then I shan't this time, vive la crème brulée," he smirked, ordering the very same when the waiter returned, Sam getting some deep fried banana.

"Hayden is bringing me some crème brulée," added Lucy dreamily, then her expression turned devious, "Perhaps I'll suggest we save it for later..."

"Do you have a pic?" asked Jake, leaning forward.

While Lucy scrolled through the photos she had of Le Cafe Charmant, the ones she'd snuck of Hayden, and the pictures of the food there, Sam leaned closer to Charles and said quietly, "She used an interesting pickup line on Hayden."

"And what would that be?" Charles asked coyly, his fingers itching to curve around her thigh.

Sam tilted her head so her mouth was closer to his ear, and whispered, "Voulez-vous c-couchez avec moi, ce soir?"

When she pulled back, her legs squeezed together on seeing how much of his blue irises had been lost to his now dilated pupils, expression hungry as he murmured, "There won't be much 'sleeping' happening."

The intensity of the moment was interrupted as the waiter delivered dessert.  Umed grabbed his funnel cake and challenged Lucy and Jake to SqueeBall, leaving Charles and Sam alone at the booth.  Charles grabbed his spoon and cracked the sugar topping of his crème brulée, bringing a spoonful to his mouth.  He purposely exaggerated his enjoyment of the confection, able to see the muscle in Sam's jaw twitch as she clenched it.  She, in turn, reached over and swiped a bit of the custard, intending to make a show of licking it off her finger.  She froze, however, as Charles intercepted her, gripping her palm and bringing her hand to his mouth, lips closing around the crème-covered digit.  She shivered as she felt his tongue swirl along the pad of her finger, removing the dessert along with some of her shy self-restraint.  He released her with a light suck, pressing a gentle kiss to her fingertip.  

"I think I much prefer that flavour," he commented, his eyes twinkling as they watched Sam's darken, her hand gripping his thigh beneath the table.

"So you want to play, Bunty?" he arched an eyebrow as her hand slid higher, dipping his head so his face was level with hers, "Then let's play."

Before the game could truly become afoot, they heard Umed shout from across the bar, "Oi, towhead! I challenge you to a game of pool!"

Charles chuckled, adjusting his tie as he stood, offering a hand to help Sam out of the booth.  

"I-I'll be right back," said Sam, fully intending to splash some cold water on her face "I just need to use the b-bathroom."

Charles strode over to the pool table where Umed stood with Jake, Lucy having gone to meet Hayden at the entrance.

"And what will the stakes of this challenge be?" Charles asked, leaning against a nearby pillar.

"If I win, you have to play something for piano karaoke," smirked Umed, "I know you're capable of it."

"And if I win?" asked Charles.

"Then I'll handle your menial paperwork for a week."

"Make it two."

"Deal," said Umed, and they shook on it, Sam joining them at the table.

"I should warn you, Umed," commented Charles as he pulled a cue from the wall, rolling it experimentally on the green felt of the tabletop, "I've been playing billiards since I was a teenager, I have lost only twice."

"Well prepare to make it thrice," smiled Umed, lining up the cue ball and breaking the triangle of solids and stripes, sinking two solids in the process, "I guess you're stripes," he said smugly.

It was a very close game, full of trick shots and impressive angles, though Sam's focus seemed to be heavily fixated on Charles' long fingers as he expertly manipulated his cue.  It was when Umed made the impossible winning shot, further garnering Charles' respect, that the game ended with a handshake and a wink, "Let's hear what you've got, piano man."

"Very well, a deal's a deal," sighed Charles as he straightened his tie and replaced his cue into its wall bracket, making his way over to the piano.

"What does he have to do?" asked Sam curiously, having missed the terms being agreed upon.

"You'll see," smiled Umed.

After a quick chat with the organizer, Charles sat at the piano, flexing his fingers as he thought of what he might play.  A glance over at Sam had a sudden idea spark in his mind, smirking as he launched into a rendition of a well-known song, fingers gliding effortlessly across the stretch of ebony and ivory in front of him.  He opened his mouth to deliver the lyrics, his smooth tenor ringing across the bar, quickly becoming the only thing that Sam could hear.

"One is the loneliest number that you'll ever do."

The instant he finished the line, Sam was suddenly hit with a memory of her singing that very song to him the night she'd accidentally gotten drunk.  But it wasn't this flashback that sent her reeling.  It was the montage of images that followed, each depicting times when he'd made her feel less alone, less lonely, that had Sam gripping a nearby table for support as her eyes honed in on his fingers against the keys, listening to the familiar yet new sound of his voice wash over her.  All too soon, he finished the final note, the last chord fading, and the bar erupted into applause; except for Sam who could only stare, mouth slightly open. 

Charles blushed and gave a small bow, walking over to stand by Sam as her face broke into a grin, "I didn't know you could play."

"It's just a hobby," he shrugged.

"M-maybe you could play again sometime," her cheeks reddened.

"Perhaps," he nodded, then leaned closer, "Though I can think of far more pleasurable things to do with my fingers."

Sam felt a frisson of electricity travel down her spine, ignited by the heat in his words and tone.  They both suddenly looked up to the sound of Umed 'whoop'-ing as Jake made to sit behind the piano, stunning all present when he dove right into a spot-on power ballad a la John Gruban.  They couldn’t do anything but watch, flabbergasted, as the normally low-key intern belted out the complicated melody, the entire pub chanting "Encore! Encore!" when Jake held the final note for an impressive amount of time.

"That's one heck of a finish," Sam noted, clapping.

Charles, who was standing behind her, stooped slightly, voice low as he said, "Even more so than how you finished the other night?"

She turned her head, blushing furiously as she said "Well, I m-may be new to the world of finishing, thanks to you, but that-"

"Samara," his eyes pulled hers to them as he spun her, "Was...Did I give you your first orgasm?"

"In a m-manner of speaking," she said coyly.

"What do you mean?" he asked, slightly puzzled.

"I..." 'Come on Sam,' she thought, 'Just say it.' "It was the day we discussed our...'arrangement', at the Italian place.  That night, after you dropped me off, I..." she wasn't entirely sure how to word it.

He peered over both of his shoulders then grabbed her arm, pulling her into a dark corner behind some arcade games.  With one hand, he held her wrists up against the wall over her head, the other lightly gripping her chin.  He leaned in, his lips brushing her earlobe as he asked "Did you touch yourself, Samara?" baritone reverberating through her.

"Y-yes."

"And what were you thinking of when you did so?"

She stretched her neck so that her breath ghosted over the shell of his ear, her voice all at once soft and firm, "You."

Funny how he'd always thrived on banter, yet one simple word from her brought him to his metaphorical knees.  He kissed her, hard, pressing her against the wall, not caring who saw them, his need for her overwhelming.  His hips ground against hers and he breathed in her moan even as he drew it from her.  His voice was rough when he next spoke, "We need to go, now."

They bid a quick goodbye to everyone, except Lucy, who was already quite busy with her Frenchman, and hurried to Charles’ car.  Sam was pretty sure Charles broke some kind of speed limit on the drive to her place - which they had opted for as it was the closer location - getting out and walking up to her apartment in tense silence.  Charles just managed to keep his hands off of her...until they were stood at her door and she was fumbling with her keys.  Unable to wait any longer, he pressed his front flush along her back, one hand spanning the juncture where her leg met her hip, the other reaching up to tweak a nipple through her shirt, the fabric of both it and her bra doing nothing to hide its stiffness.

"Ch-Charles," she breathed, needing to lean against the door for support.

"I will take you in this hallway if I must, Samara," he breathed into her neck amidst kisses and nips across her skin, "It's up to you to open the door."

Her breathing came fast as she ground back against him, unable to focus as he found a particularly sensitive spot with his teeth.  She inhaled deeply and finally concentrated enough to get her key into the lock, twisting the knob so hard they fell forward slightly into her apartment.  She locked the door behind them and Charles whirled her around, pressing her back against it as he placed a knee between her legs, his lips crashing to hers.  Sam pulled firmly on his tie in turn, trying to bring him as close to her as possible while her other hand ran along his back, sliding down to give his rear a light squeeze.  She shrugged off her cardigan and haltingly slid his charcoal jacket off of his arms while his mouth occupied itself with her neck once again.  His newly freed hands tugged her skirt down, fingers delving into her underwear, rubbing merciless spirals over her clit.  She reached down and undid his belt and fly, hand reaching into his pants and boxer briefs to stroke his fully hard length, the feel of it something she was coming to crave.  She felt him shiver at her touch, increasing her pressure a bit, he responding by sliding two fingers inside of her, groaning at the slickness that awaited him.  He bent his head and nuzzled the collar of her shirt aside, gripping her bra-covered nipple gently between his teeth.

"Ooohhh I don't deserve this from you," she groaned, tilting her head back.

"You...you think you're undeserving of me?" he removed his fingers, completely bewildered.

She bit her lip and nodded in response.

He leaned forward, eyes full of blazing intent as they met hers, voice deep as he said, "Then allow me to disabuse you of that notion."

He dropped to one knee on the floor before her, hooking her leg over his shoulder.  He eyed her panties for a second before gripping the thin material and ripping them off of her in one clean motion.

"Ch-Charles!" she gasped, letting out a sharp "Hah!" as his tongue curled around her clit, fingers once again finding purchase within her.

"I'll buy you a new pair," he growled, the vibration of it shooting right to her core.

His tongue swirled, his lips sucked, and his fingers pumped all in unison, as if conducting her toward a climactic finish, matching in time with her moans.  He could feel her growing close, and so was perplexed when she started tugging on his hair, indicating she wanted him to stand.  He obliged, taking in the flushed skin, heaving bosom, and glazed eyes, her voice rasping as she said, “I-I need…I need you.”  

He knew what she wanted, and he’d be damned if he’d deny her anything.  He quickly pulled a condom from his wallet, opening it while Sam grabbed his pants and underwear, pulling them down to the floor at the same time as he slid the latex sheath onto his painfully throbbing erection.  She stood and he grabbed the backs of her thighs, lifting her up and pinning her against the door, holding her entrance poised just over his tip.  He didn't need a worded permission as she grabbed the back of his head, pulling him into a fierce kiss.  He pressed her back to the door, thrusting upward smoothly until he was completely buried within her.  He paused on hearing her sharp inhale, though only for a second as she seemed to quickly adjust, wiggling her hips encouragingly.  He pounded up into her at a steady pace, his mouth buried in the crook of her neck as she roused him further, moaning, "More, yes, Charles, fuck!"

He adjusted the angle a bit, building up a hard rhythm, the change affecting him just as much as it did her.  Sam could feel his pelvis rubbing against her clit with the movements, but it wasn't quite enough.  Slowly, a bit unsure, she reached a hand down and started massaging her sensitive nub in time with his thrusts, Charles almost completely losing himself when he saw her doing so.  His rhythm faltered, feeling her muscles tensing around him, much quicker than he'd anticipated.  It threw him enough that when she climaxed, he was swept along with her, their groans blending together into one clear note of relief.  He held her against the door until their breathing slowed and his strength returned enough to lower her to the floor, sliding out of her in the process.  He kissed her gently, both still breathing a bit heavily, brows covered in a sheen of sweat.  He walked over to her coffee table and pulled some tissues from the box upon it, removing the condom and wiping himself off, dropping everything into a small wastebasket by her desk.

"Th-that was-" Sam started to say as she came up behind him, but she was cut off when Charles gripped her wrist and pulled her over to the couch, voice husky as he said, "We are not finished."

He slowly pulled her shirt up over her head, then unclasped her bra, lips closing around her nipple, his tongue laving the rosy peak even as the garment fell to the floor.  Sam inhaled sharply, then worked at unbuttoning his vest, pulling it from his shoulders.  He reached up to loosen his tie, and deftly unbuttoned his shirt, shrugging it off to join the other vestments on the floor.  He kissed her soundly then moved to lie on his back on her sofa, hand reaching to grip her thigh, guiding her until she was straddling his shoulders, uncertainty painted across her features.

"Let me finish showing you precisely what you deserve," he murmured, gripping her ass and sliding her forward, pulling her down to his mouth.

He immediately went for her still sensitive clit, and she let out a cry, hips bucking involuntarily.  She gripped the back of the couch for support as his tongue slowly and deliberately began a rhythm of sinuous movements along her folds, accentuated with tortuous revolutions around her little hub of nerves, making her breath hitch repeatedly.  After a smooth swirl followed by a quick suck, he pushed his tongue inside of her, flexing it upward, reaching deeper this time than he had before.  She let out a guttural moan, struggling to hold herself back from grinding against his tongue as he stroked it inside of her, alternating between that and labyrinthine patterns over the engorged flushed pearl at the apex of it all.  He could feel her thighs trembling as she tried to keep her full weight off of him, so he performed a series of tongue motions and thrusts that made her weak-kneed, giving him the opportunity to yank her right against him.  He was able to drive even deeper, offsetting that with unpredictable suction from his lips intermittently closing around her clit. 

He picked up the pace when she reached down with her free hand, burying it into his blond locks, chanting his name as she began riding his face in earnest, self-consciousness seemingly gone.  A final thrust inside of her with his tongue, it dragging perfectly along all of her sensitized areas, was all it took.  With a screamed "Fuck, Charles!" she came undone, and all over him, so hard that he had to grab her waist as she almost toppled off of him from the force of her orgasm.  She leaned back as she recovered, propping her hand on the couch between his legs, noticing he was once again hard. 

Without saying a word, Charles still recovering his breathing, Sam climbed off the couch and crouched beside it, fingers gripping him and slowly sliding up and down his shaft.  He let out a sharp gasp and brought himself to sitting, his feet on the floor, she not missing a beat as she shifted between his legs.  He moaned, his head dropping back against the couch as she kept stroking, experimentally varying her pressure and speed.  Curious, she brought her other hand up to lightly cup his balls, tugging them gently, observing the responding jolt through his body when she did so.  Clumsily at first, then with more certainty, she found a rhythm between her hands, one that seemed to be working very well for Charles.  She saw his eyes glaze over, startled when he suddenly gripped her elbows, halting her movements.

"I want to have you one more time," he said in the face of her confusion, the need in his voice intoxicating.

She reached over to her desk and pulled a large-sized condom from the drawer, having remembered the brand from the night of the storm.  She saw his raised eyebrow and blushed, "I-I wanted to be prepared."  

He smirked and reached for it, but she gently pushed his hand down, surprising him when she opened the packet and rolled the latex over his cock.  Sam applied a teasing pressure as she slowly slid it downward, recalling Monica's tips when she'd once asked for a crash course.  He gripped her arms and pulled her forward, steadying her as she placed her knees on either side of his thighs.  She held his gaze as she slowly lowered herself onto him, sinking down inch by glorious inch until she once again felt that enthralling sense of fullness.  He placed one hand on her thigh while the other twined itself in her hair, pulling her in for a kiss as her hips began rocking slowly. 

Her uncertainty was somewhat forgotten as her body seemed to know what to do, the muscles in her thighs quivering as she raised herself upward before lowering back down, the delicious friction inspiring goosebumps.  She pulled back from his lips, trailing her tongue down his neck, along his collarbone, then kissing her way back up to nip his earlobe, all while she thrusted onto him, speed increasing.  His hands instinctively gripped her hips, fingers spastically digging deep into her flesh every time she found a sensitive part of him with her mouth.  He started guiding the motions of her hips, aiding her rhythm, helping to lift her and push downward, hearing her moan as he bottomed out within her time and time again.  He noticed her picking her speed up further, starting to lose control as he felt himself growing closer with her, his own hips thrusting upward to meet her. 

He slid one of his hands downward until his thumb found her clit, massaging it firmly, her muscles tensing.  She went faster, he went faster, he recapturing her lips in a fervent kiss, she whispering his name against his lips.  Up, down, up, down, "Charles!" she cried, entire body spasming as she reached her peak, swept over by the feel of him deep within her.  He grabbed her hips and pushed her down onto him one more time, a groaned "Samara" ripped from his mouth as his muscles jerked with his own release.  They were unsure of how long they sat that way, each holding the other up.  Finally, Sam was able to push herself up off of Charles, coming to stand as he took her hand in his.

"I'm j-just going to use the bathroom, I'll be right b-back," she stammered tiredly, squeezing his fingers before heading down the hall.

"...Fuck," he said aloud to the empty room, processing the events leading up to now, knowing it would all be haunting his dreams any time he attempted sleep in the near future.

He reluctantly pulled himself to standing just as Sam returned, indicating he was going to use the bathroom as well.  While Charles cleaned himself up, Sam gathered their clothes, separating his into their own pile, and then slipped into her pajama bottoms and a spaghetti strap shirt.  She was just filling up Bowser's food dish when Charles walked back out, still completely nude, and not at all shy about it.  He walked over and tilted her face upward by her chin, pressing a lingering kiss to her lips.

"You're leaving, aren't you?" she asked, trying not to let her disappointment seep into her voice.

"I have to," he breathed, pressing his forehead to hers.

She could understand what he meant, but still didn't want him gone quite so soon, "W-would you at least stay until I f-fall asleep?"

He sighed deeply and lightly kissed her tented brow, "Alright."

He pulled on his boxer briefs, pants, and dress shirt while Sam brushed her teeth, chastising himself for giving in to her request.  'All you're going to do is hurt her,' he admonished himself internally.  She emerged from the bathroom and walked down the hall to her bedroom, Charles following her.  She got underneath her duvet and he lay atop it beside her, head resting on her second pillow.  She curled in close and lay both her head and a hand on his chest, he interlacing his fingers with hers.  His other arm curved around her shoulders, thumb absent-mindedly stroking her skin.

"Tonight was..." she started, eyes drifting shut, unable to come up with a word that would do it justice.

"It was illuminating," he hummed, turning to place a kiss on the top of her head.

"Hmm," she sighed, snuggling in deeper.

He listened to her breathing begin to slow and deepen, the creases on her forehead smoothing away as she relaxed into slumber.  He decided it couldn’t hurt to briefly rest his eyes before he would begin the arduous task of extracting himself from her warmth.  'Just for a few seconds' he told himself, unable to tell exactly when the darkness behind his eyelids became the darkness of sleep.

Chapter Text

Music suggestion: At the words "Out with it, Bunty" https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xe_iCkFsQKE

Charles slowly rejoined the world of consciousness, noting he felt more rested than he normally did on waking.  He kept his eyes closed against the light trying to sneak beneath his eyelids, adding to the discomfort already created by the contacts he’d forgotten to remove.  His brows furrowed as his power of recollection and awareness began to snap to attention.  What first sparked his disconcert was that there was light in the room, when he always closed his curtains.  Next, he wiggled slightly and felt that, aside from being somewhat tangled in blankets, he was wearing his work clothes.  Add to that the feel of something warm and soft and breathing in his arms, and his eyes shot open, flinching at the drastic change in lighting.  He looked down to see a head of ruffled brown hair just below his chin, his arms wrapped around the owner as she continued softly snoring.  'This is not my bed,' he finally admitted to himself, looking around to confirm that he had, in fact, spent the night at Sam's, despite telling her he couldn't.

"Twpsyn," he breathed aloud, freezing when Sam stirred against him. 

She tilted her head and blinked a few times, confused when her senses relayed to her brain that she was laying on something firm that was definitely not her mattress.  She registered arms around her upper back, and that the firmness beneath her was a chest wearing a dress shirt giving off a familiar scent.  She slowly looked upward to see a widened pair of blue eyes staring back at her from beneath a tousled mop of blond hair.  

"Good morning," said Charles, his sleep-husked voice rumbling through her as he blinked away the sensation of dryness in his eyes.  Luckily, he had spare contacts and cleaning solution in his office.

"Morning," she responded, leaning up slightly, "I thought you couldn't stay?"

"It would seem my traitorous body had other plans," he grumbled, relinquishing his hold on her and running a hand through his hair, mussing it even further.  

She stifled a giggle at his bedhead and shifted as she stretched, arm brushing against something most certainly not soft, "L-looks like someone else is awake too."  

Not waiting for a response, she reached over and stroked him through his pants, enjoying how his hips jerked involuntarily, accompanied by a sharp inhale.

"Samara..." he breathed, his voice a mixture of warning and encouragement.

She started to undo his belt buckle and was just in the process of unzipping his fly, when her alarm clock went off.  They both looked over to it and noted the time, mild panic setting in with the recognition of their tardiness in waking.

"Crap, that's my Last Ditch alarm!" she exclaimed, hopping out of bed, slipping her glasses on, and grabbing the first clothes she could find.

"Your what?" he asked, eyebrow raised.

"Some mornings, I don't want to get out of bed," she explained, tugging a light mauve cardigan over her head, "So I set one final alarm, because it's the latest possible moment I can sleep until," she hurriedly pulled on a pair of charcoal slacks, "It's the Last Ditch effort to get out of bed."

"I see," he said amusedly, watching her struggle to dress herself while he slowly buttoned up his somehow still crisp dress shirt, and smoothed out his hair.

He leisurely walked out to the living room area and picked up his vest, sliding it on over his arms.  He eyed her rushing around her apartment, looking behind and under things, as he buttoned up his vest and put his jacket on.

"Whatever are you searching for?" he asked as he picked up his wallet from the floor by her front door, memories of the previous night flashing through his mind as he tucked it into his pocket.

"I can't find my bag," she answered, rifling through a pile of clothes in her bedroom, only just then mildly embarrassed that he'd seen her room in such a state.

"There's a possibility you left it in the car," he suggested as Bowser trotted over to him, sitting right at his feet.

"True," he heard her call from what sounded like inside her closet as he crouched to scratch Bowser behind the ears.

"Do you normally take this long to get ready?" he teased, chuckling as Bowser flopped over onto his back, indicating he wanted belly rubs, which Charles was happy to provide.

"Excuse you," she replied haughtily, "You were already mostly dressed in yesterday's clothes."

"You're right," he sighed, looking down at himself, "They are a bit rumpled."

Sam rolled her eyes in response, grabbing her keys from the floor, about the same spot as his wallet had been.  She gave Bowser a quick pet and then unlocked the door, gesturing for Charles to exit first.  She locked up behind them and they made their way down to his car.  Charles opened the door for her and she had a quick look around before hopping into the passenger seat, her bag nowhere to be seen.

"It must still be in my apartment somewhere," she groaned.

"Was there anything in particular you need from it?" asked Charles, still standing beside the passenger door.

"My wallet...and my inhaler, that's about it I think," she sighed.

"Well I will treat you to lunch, and I have a spare inhaler in my desk, as do several other staff members," he said, adjusting his tie.

"What? Why-" she started to ask.

"At your father's insistence," he replied matter-of-factly, "In fact, I just recently replaced those inhalers as they were nearing their expiration date."

Sam felt warmed by the fact that even though he could be overbearing and overprotective, and very extra, her father was always keeping an eye out for her.  And knowing that Charles also seemed to have her well-being in mind added a different kind of warmth, one she wasn't entirely sure how to interpret.

"Okay," she nodded, "Then I guess I can go a day without my bag."

She settled into her seat as Charles closed the door and walked around to the driver’s side.  Sam quickly called Ms. Whipple as they drove, asking the landlady if she could take Bowser for a walk, a request to which the older woman had happily agreed.

While the rest of the ride into work and the morning, itself, were uneventful - save for Charles' blush instigated by Lucy loudly noticing he had the same clothes on as yesterday - by lunchtime, Sam had a problem.  It wasn't a new or unexpected problem, albeit a few days early, but it was an unwelcome one all the same.  She'd felt the telltale stirrings of unease and discomfort in her lower abdomen, and had immediately gone to grab the necessary materials from her bag...and then remembered that she did not have it with her.  She sighed deeply and walked out of her office, approaching Lucy's desk, waiting for the redhead to finish her call.  Her eyes widened when she heard Lucy say, "And make sure to wear the kilt."

Lucy hung up and turned to see Sam with an eyebrow raised in her direction, asking "Kilt?"

"Something about a man in plaid does things to me, especially if it's easy access," Lucy tapped her nose.

"Wait," Sam suddenly made a connection, "Was that Mr. McNally?"

"The man can't get enough of me," Lucy sighed dramatically.

"What about Hayden?" asked Sam, corner of her mouth upturned in a smirk.

"Hayden is magical," Lucy smiled dreamily, "But we both knew what we had was fleeting; he's still holding on to unresolved love, and I cannot be tamed."

Sam laughed softly, then winced as the action sparked a twinge of pain.

"Are you okay Sam?" asked Lucy, expression tinged with concern.

"Y-yeah, I just..." she leaned in a bit closer to her redheaded friend, blushing profusely "I was wondering if you had any spare....f-feminine hygiene p-products."

Lucy stared at her for a second, then whispered, "Ohhhhh you mean a tampon."

"Yes," Sam blushed harder.

"I certainly do," the redhead smiled, reaching under her desk.  She discreetly handed a very grateful Sam two small yellow cylindrical packets, voice hushed as she added "I have more if you need it."

"Thank you, Lucy," Sam smiled warmly, then headed for the bathroom.

As Sam walked away, Lucy couldn't help noticing a certain blond Welshman hovering just inside the door of his office, worry etching his features as he watched the brunette hurry by.  She briefly wondered when the two of them would stop being quite so oblivious to one another, then saw an opportunity for some teasing.

"Charles, did you want me to have a clean suit delivered for you?" she called across the hall, noticing him jump in surprise, "I can probably get you one that matches your phone."

His response was to silently narrow his eyes at her, then slowly close his office door, Lucy laughing to herself as she continued with her work.  

A short while later, Sam bid entry to whomever was knocking on her door, smiling when Charles entered her office.

"Are you ready for lunch?" he asked, leaning against the wall.

"Very," she grinned, trying not to let the pain she was feeling show on her face.

"I thought perhaps an encore of pho might be in order?" he suggested, eyeing her body language as she seemed somewhat curled into herself.

"That sounds great," she nodded.

As they walked to the pho restaurant, he couldn't help but notice her steps were slower and more deliberate, lagging a bit behind her usual speed.  She seemed to improve marginally once they were seated at a table at Krazy Pho You, and even more so when her pho arrived.  Charles opted to try the chicken with her this time, and found it quite to his liking. 

When they were finishing up their bowls, he saw what seemed to be a bit of relief in her expression, so he asked "Did that aid in alleviating your cramps at all?"

She froze with her spoon halfway to her mouth, cheeks ablaze "H-how did you know?"

"I was married to a woman, I am capable of recognizing the signs of a visit from Mother Nature."

"R-right," she looked down at the table, mood a bit dampened by the stark reminder that he had been married before.

"How's the pain?" he asked softly, reaching over to lightly squeeze her hand.

"It's moderate," she responded, "But it's only going to get worse from here.  Tomorrow will probably be the peak of it."

"And are you planning to take it easy tonight?" his voice suggested that perhaps it wasn't so much a question as a statement.

"Yes, sir," she teased, "I have my weekly questing with the guild, but it won't require too much moving around."

"Good," he nodded, then attempted an air of indifference as he said "Well, let me know if there's anything you need," but Sam could read between the lines.

"I will," she smiled softly.

On the way back, Sam realized that she and Charles were walking so closely together that their hands kept brushing.  The muscles in her fingers ached as she consciously prevented them from linking with his, feeling a bit too emotionally vulnerable to be able to handle the rejection she was certain would be forthcoming should she try.  Charles, for his part, was purposely brushing his hand against hers, in the hopes that she would cling to him as she normally did.  He felt he couldn't be the one to initiate it, as it would completely negate the stance he kept insisting he had regarding relationships.  They made it all the way back to the office that way, in an odd sort of limbo, neither giving out, nor giving in.  The rest of the day went by quickly and Sam was soon climbing gingerly into Charles' car, the two Advil's she had popped working about as effectively on her pain as eating two TacTic's would have.  

"Are you sure you're alright?" Charles asked quietly after getting into the driver's side.

"It's fine," she replied stiffly, "Nothing I haven't been through before."

"Is there anywhere you would like to stop?" he queried as he drove them out of the garage.

"N-no, I have what I need at home," she was touched by his concern.

"Alright," he nodded.

"What will you be doing tonight?" she asked curiously.

"I will be beta testing a new escape room for BreakOut Rooms," he answered, navigating through traffic, "And then likely winding down at home."

"The escape room sounds interesting," she replied, only flinching minutely from her pain.

"Well, perhaps you might join me next time? I'm often asked to critique new rooms prior to their opening."

"I would really enjoy that," Sam's smile this time was a full one, beaming.

"Then I shall let you know when I am next called upon," he had a small grin of his own on his face.

"I don't know if I'll be any good," she shrugged, tugging on a piece of hair, "But I'm sure it'll be fun trying."

"Based on how well you set up the puzzles in Ruminate, I believe you'll do better than you think."

Sam blushed, voice timid as she asked, "Did you end up playing it again?"

"Yes," he stated, "Several times in fact."

Sam stared at him, mouth slightly agape, "S-several?"

"Perhaps I can walk you through my in-game solutions and their subsequent paths some time?"  Charles chuckled as Sam practically frothed at the mouth at the prospect, her cramps seemingly forgotten, "I'll take that as a yes."

He pulled up to park by her building then grasped her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing her skin lightly, "I will talk to you later," his voice was firm, yet tender, "Now go and get some rest."

"Yes, Mister Jones," she teased, poking the tip of her tongue out at him.

"You'd best keep that tongue out of sight, Miss Young, or I might get ideas," he allowed his gaze to slowly rake down her body, pleased to see the flush rising on her skin.

"I would be happy to bring those ideas to life in a few days," she replied coyly.

"I'll hold you to that," he said, voice low, "For now, let's get you up to your apartment."

Sam nodded in agreement, opening the door and climbing out, cringing and letting out a "Hoo," as a wave of pain hit her.  She jumped when she felt Charles' hand on her shoulder, "W-what are you doing?" she asked.

"I'm walking you to your apartment, just to make sure you actually get up the stairs," he replied, voice brooking no argument.

"Fine," she exhaled, moving to walk toward her building.  

They made it up the stairs without incident, Sam unlocking her door as Charles leaned against the wall.

"Let me know how the escape room goes," she smiled shyly, pushing her glasses up onto the bridge of her nose.

"Will do," he nodded, stepping forward to press a quick kiss to her lips.

He waited until she was on the other side of her closed door before leaving, cursing internally for allowing himself to be so affectionate, especially in public; his vulnerability was beginning to peek through the cracks she'd made in his walls.  He worried they might start to crumble entirely; these thoughts plaguing him as he headed to BreakOut Rooms.

It was late by the time Charles left, sky dark as the sun was long gone.  It had been a longer escape room, partly because they were testing out longer timeframes, and also because they'd asked him to do it again once they'd applied his corrections.  He walked into his apartment, limbs lethargic with fatigue, and sat heavily on the chair in his living room.  He pulled his phone out of his pocket, annoyed at the disappointment he felt on seeing no new messages from a certain someone.  He dropped it on the chair arm beside him and rubbed his hands over his face, glad the next day was Saturday, so he could sleep in.  He was debating on going to bed or not moving for a few minutes, when his phone vibrated, indicating an incoming message.  His face lit up and he unlocked the screen, yet his blood ran cold when he read the words from an unknown though somewhat familiar number, "Charles, I know you got my message.  Just give me a chance to-" he didn't bother reading the rest of Griffiths' message, deleting it without a second thought.  He shot up from his chair and started pacing angrily, hands clenching into fists and then unclenching; resisting the urge to hurl something against the wall.  He finally calmed down enough to pour himself a brandy, just about to lift the drink to his lips when his phone lit up again, somewhat muffled by the couch cushions.  He picked it up warily, as if it would bite him, dread weighing down on him as he read the name of the sender.  He instantly felt his muscles relax when he saw it was from Sam, reading 'Our guild came out on top after a huge raid tonight! Hope the escape room went okay.'  He stared at her words, the ghost of a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.  He put down his glass and swiped right to call Sam, needing to hear her voice in that moment.

"Hi Charles," she said, her smile evident in her tone.

"Good evening, Bunty," he smiled, feeling some of his previous tension melting away.

"How was the escape room?"

 "It was...adequate, particularly after they incorporated my suggestions," he replied, running a hand through his hair.

"That's high praise, coming from you," she teased.

"Well I never," he said in a tone of mock offense.

"Never what, wear casual clothes to work? Use slang terms? Eat food with your hands?" she couldn't help giggling.

"Absolutely not, I'm not a barbarian," he sniffed haughtily.

"Well, we barbarians quite enjoy those things," she stated matter-of-factly, then whispered, "Join us."

Charles laughed genuinely, asking, "I take it your pain has settled somewhat?"

"For now," responded Sam.

"Promise me you'll call if you need anything tomorrow," he said, tone firm.

"I promise," she replied, both of them knowing full well she would do no such thing in the name of not wanting to impose.

"So your guild came out on top?" asked Charles as he stood, stretching slightly.

He listened as Sam recounted her guild's raid, smiling as he walked up the stairs toward his bedroom, his glass of brandy left on the living room table, untouched.  He made his way up to his room, putting his phone on speaker as he changed into his pajamas.  He smiled when listening to her enthusiasm, and laughed when she laughed.  He was just settling under the covers when she came to the end of the recap of her night's events, a stifled yawn evident in her voice.

"You sound tired, Bunty," he commented, his own body growing heavy with weariness.

"I am," she replied, "I think I'll have to go to sleep now."

"That makes two of us," he laughed softly, eyelids more closed than open.

"Sleep well, Charles," her voice was hushed.

"You too, Bunty," he murmured, only barely having the wherewithal to hang up his phone before slipping away into dreams of light laughter and brown eyes, keeping the usual nightmares at bay.

Sam woke up very late the next morning.  Granted, her plans had consisted of staying in bed most of the day, so it didn't really matter.  Bowser came bounding into her bedroom, though paused, ears perked upward on seeing his mistress looking distressed.  He hopped onto the bed and curled up next to her as close as he could get, wiggling happily when she scratched behind his ears.  Sam grabbed her phone and pulled up her call history, mind lingering on her conversation with Charles the previous night.  Looking at the time duration of the call now, she couldn't believe she had been talking with - or rather, at - him for almost an hour; the time had truly flown by. 

She decided she would text him a bit later, after watching a few episodes of F.R.A.N.D.S. on her phone, snuggled into her comforter.  She woke with a start several hours later when her full bladder angrily made itself known.  She hadn't meant to fall asleep again, but she didn't exactly call the shots at this time of the month.  After paying a visit to the washroom, she shuffled into the kitchen, grabbing some saltines and ginger ale to soothe her stomach.  She would normally make chicken soup to help ease the nausea, but she didn't have the energy.  She took her snacks to the couch, covering herself with a fuzzy blanket, and continuing her Netpix marathon there, Bowser joining her.  Several episodes later, a knock sounded on her front door.  Sam reluctantly shoved the blanket off and got up to see who it was, walking slightly hunched over.  She opened the door, then almost immediately slammed it in the face of the ever immaculate Welshman on the other side.

"H-hi Charles," she blushed, "I must look like a mess, I didn't know you were coming."

"I like you messy," he teased, kissing her forehead lightly, "And I did try texting you, but became worried when you didn't answer," he chuckled, walking into her apartment with a take-out bag in hand.

"Oh," she said softly, "Well for a while I was asleep, and then I forgot my phone in my bedroom."

"I see.  You know, I have fond memories of your bedroom," he responded, eyebrow arched.

Sam cleared her throat, face flushed, "What's in the bag?"

"Ah," he nodded, pulling out several styrofoam containers, "I stopped by a soup restaurant on my way over, they make excellent chicken noodle; though I must say, it does pale in comparison to your recipe."

"You brought me soup?" she asked, eyes wide.

"I had hoped it might make you feel better," he said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Just you being here makes me feel better," she admitted.

He couldn't stop himself from drawing her into a hug then, one hand at the small of her back while the other held the back of her neck.  He pressed a light kiss into her hair, feeling her content hum vibrate through him.  After a moment, he reluctantly let go and gestured for them to take the soup to the couch, attempting to defuse the emotional moment with flirting, "I rather enjoyed the last time I was on this couch, as well."

"M-me t-too," stammered Sam, her cheeks a fiery red as she put her soup on the living room table.  She then finally registered that he was, yet again, wearing a suit, “You know, you didn’t have to dress up just to bring me soup,” she teased.

"I had to pop into the office for a video call with your father," he explained, placing his container of soup beside Sam’s, “He had a list of demands he considered ‘vital’."

"Maybe I should tell him to ease up on you," Sam smiled.

"That is most certainly the best way to get him to do the opposite," Charles grimaced.

"This is true," Sam laughed, picking up the remote.

"What are we watching?" he asked, sitting on the middle cushion of the sofa.

"F.R.A.N.D.S.," she replied, settling herself down as close to him as she could.

"I've been meaning to start that one," he nodded, "I've just never gotten around to it."

"Well then we need to begin at the very first episode," Sam grinned, lining up the show and hitting play, both becoming absorbed in the sitcom.

When Charles finished his soup, he placed the container on the table and sat back into the couch, draping an arm across the back of it behind Sam.  She leaned further into him and, without realizing it, he soon found his arm curled around her shoulders, holding her to him.  On their third episode, Sam started shaking, enough to garner his attention and concern.

"Samara, are you alright?" 

"I...I-it's just more cramps," she replied, trying to sound reassuring...and failing miserably.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" he asked, resting the hand not currently curled around Sam onto her knee, "Perhaps a heating pad?"

Sam was surprised he'd suggested it, shaking herself and answering, "I have a microwaveable heat pack in the drawer over there," she gestured to the kitchen.

He went over and pulled out the bean bag she had indicated, following the microwaving instructions on it to the letter.  He then carried it to the couch and wrapped it in a bit of the blanket, holding it to her abdomen until she positioned herself to be comfortable.  

"Is that at all helpful?" he asked, noting she was still cringing.

"A bit," she nodded, "What I could really use is a distraction though."

"Maybe I could tell you about my play-through of Ruminate?" suggested Charles.

"I...th-that would...I would like that," Sam managed to get out.

Charles caught sight of her laptop and suddenly had an idea, "Or perhaps I could show you."

Sam was too busy frothing at the mouth to actually answer, so Charles chuckled and grabbed her laptop, opening it and booting it up.  Sam logged in and set up Ruminate, then watched avidly as he took her, step by step, through one of the adventure routes he'd taken.  As he talked, she curled in closer to him, both the sound and feel of his voice soothing.  Neither of them noticed the time flying by until the battery icon on Sam's laptop began flashing.  

"Wow, it's already midnight?" Sam asked, astonished, noticing the clock.

"It would seem that way," smiled Charles, saving his progress and closing down her laptop.

Sam stood, placing the now cooled heat pack on the couch, and flinched as the movement was accompanied by a dull ache, "I just n-need to use the bathroom, I'll b-be right back," she said shyly.

While Sam walked down the hall, Charles picked up the heat pack and microwaved it once again for her.  He jumped slightly when a knock sounded at the door, surprising him.  

"Who would call on Samara this late?" he asked aloud, heading for the door.

As he opened it, he could hear someone saying in a singsong voice, "Guess who just got to second ba-"

Monica, for it was her on the other side, froze as she saw that it wasn't Sam opening the door, but a different, though familiar face.  A wicked grin spread across her features as she put two and two together, saying "Well hello there pretty boy, keeping Sam company tonight, are you?"

"More or less," he responded, recognizing the pink-haired woman from when he'd seen her in the hospital; though her aura seemed a lot less threatening now.

"Then I'll leave you two alone," Monica waggled her eyebrows at him, turning to walk down the hallway.

"Before you leave," Charles' words gave her pause, turning back to face him, "You have my absolute and utter gratitude, and if there's ever anything you need, you just say the word.  Samara will explain the 'why' to you if you ask her, I'm sure."

Monica was puzzled for a moment, then something clicked, "This wouldn't have anything to do with a certain photo, would it?"

"Among other things," he mumbled, adjusting his tie.

Monica placed a hand on his shoulder, drawing a perplexed expression from him, "Considering that you saved Marshall's life the day he was taken to the hospital, I'd say I still owe you."

Charles' cheeks reddened minutely, his voice quiet as he said, "It was no-"

But Monica cut him off, her eyes shining as she said, "Charles, it was everything."

Her hand slid down to lightly squeeze his upper arm as she gave him a genuine smile.  She then turned and walked off down the hallway, tossing a casual, "Have fun, don't do anything I wouldn't do," over her shoulder.

"That really doesn't leave much," commented Sam blithely as Charles closed and locked the door, having overheard the last bit of the conversation.

"I can see why you two are close," he smirked.

"I'll give her the 'lowdown' on what that," she gestured between him and the door, "Was about."

"Oh I rather think she had an inkling," he teased.

He walked to the kitchen and removed the heat pack from the microwave, handing it to Sam.

"W-will you stay?" she asked timidly, pressing the bean bag against herself.

"I really shouldn't," he murmured, brushing some stray strands of hair from her eyes.

"It's just sleeping, Charles," she shrugged, "We've done it twice already."

He took in the silent plea in her eyes, the faint crease between her brows, the small downward turn of her mouth as she grimaced in pain, and the way her hand was curled over the heat pack on her abdomen.  He knew he couldn't say no even if he had been capable of making his lips cooperate; it was inevitable.  In the end, he merely sighed in resignation and gestured for her to lead the way to her bedroom.  As she walked ahead of him, Sam felt her phone vibrate, seeing a text from Monica that read 'A certain blond hottie answered your door tonight...get it gurl! Call me tomorrow with details ;) <3'

Sam laughed quietly and answered with, 'It's not quite what you think, but will do! <3'

When they got into Sam's bedroom, she crawled under the covers, leaving enough room for him beside her.  She rolled back over to see him surreptitiously removing his contact lenses and placing them in a case which he put near his clothes.  She decided not to call him out on the fact that even though she’d had to ‘convince’ him to stay, he had somehow just happened to have his contact stuff with him.  Any further thoughts were halted by him removing his tie then slowly unbuttoning his dress shirt.

"Oh," she suddenly realized, "I have s-some sleep clothes that might fit you."

"That's quite alright, Samara," he smiled, noting her blazing cheeks when his shirt slid off his arms and he pulled his slacks down to his ankles, "My motto for pajamas tends to be the less clothing, the better."

Sam practically went cross-eyed at the combination of his words, and him in only his boxer briefs.  Charles slid into her bed beside her, underneath the duvet this time, and turned off the lamp on her bedside table.  He leaned over and gently rolled her so that she was curled in something like the fetal position, facing away from him.  He shuffled so that he was behind her, then wrapped his arm around her waist, helping hold the heat pack in place.  Sam was grateful for the position choice, as it helped ease some of the pain she was still experiencing.  

"Goodnight, Bunty," she heard Charles whisper in her ear, feeling him press a kiss into her hair.

"Goodnight, Charles," she replied softly, bringing her own hand up to intertwine her fingers with his.

They both lay quietly, each listening to the other's breathing even out, falling asleep within moments of one another.

The next morning, Sam awoke with much less pain than the day before.  As she began to cling more to wakefulness than drowsiness, she registered the warm puffs of breath on her forehead, and that she was laying on her side, curled into Charles.  As slowly and carefully as possible, Sam rotated her head so she could look up at the Welshman's face.  He looked so relaxed in his sleep, content even, a peace about him that Sam wasn't entirely sure she'd seen before.  His arms were both wrapped around her and Sam felt utterly and completely safe.  She would have been happy just to watch Charles sleep for a few more minutes, but apparently Bowser had other ideas.  He bolted into her bedroom, landing on the bed with a happy "Ahp! Ahp!"

Charles groaned and joined the waking world, eyes fluttering open.  Bowser took that as an invitation and started licking Charles' hand currently sitting on Sam's hip. 

"Well hello there," he greeted the pup, unable to hide a smile when Bowser wriggled affectionately in response.  He looked down at Sam, taking in her amused smile and said, "And hello to you as well."

"Bonjour," she replied teasingly.

"And how is your pain today?" he asked, arms squeezing her gently.

"Over 9000 times better than yesterday," she said, sounding relieved.

"Glad to hear it," he nodded, releasing his hold on her, and suddenly finding himself with an armful of black and white fluff.

"I think he wants to go outside," Sam laughed, scratching beneath Bowser's collar, causing his leg to thump against Charles' arm.

"Then who are we to deny him?" asked Charles, obviously smitten with the jovial canine.

"You'll come with me?" asked Sam, eyes shining.

"One-way, at any rate," nodded Charles, "I'll detour to my car on the walk back."

Bowser immediately scrabbled out of Charles' arms, making a beeline for the door.

"You said the 'W' word," Sam grinned.

"Ah how gauche of me," he replied dryly, "I shall endeavour not to repeat such a faux-pas in future."

Sam's heart warmed, while Charles' clenched at the notion of him not only being around for a while, but possibly becoming a part of her everyday routine.  Sam felt a sense of ease at the thought, yet Charles waged an internal battle between fear and hope, the words having made themselves known of their own accord.

"I'll just get dressed," said Sam, cheeks tinged pink as she grabbed some clothes and made for the washroom.

Charles got up and went to the kitchen, washing his hands before putting his contacts back in.  He then returned to the bedroom and began putting on his own garments, which he'd folded pristinely and left on a chair by the bed.  He tried to get a handle on his wayward imagination as it unceasingly provided images of him and Sam doing domestic things together; walking Bowser, enjoying breakfast, coming home to each other...he shook his head, berating himself for allowing his thoughts to wander so dangerously.  He was contemplating changing his mind on the walking thing, but when Sam reappeared wearing a white fitted tee with a short, pleated, dark yellow skirt, the very idea of a raincheck was banished from his mind.  Sam caught his expression and looked down at herself, voice unsure, "I-is it not ok?  My mom got it for me, I'm never c-completely sure if things go together."

"You look beautiful, Samara," replied Charles, swallowing hard.

"Th-thanks, Charles," Sam muttered abashedly, blushing fiercely. 

She walked out to her living room, grabbing her bag - which she had eventually found under the bed - and pulled out Bowser's leash, attaching it to the ecstatic hound.  Charles followed her out the door, offering her his elbow after she locked it, saying "Shall we?" He found her returning smile hitting him somewhere deep as her small hand curled around his arm and they headed out.  

Once at the dog park, Sam let Bowser run around off leash, then moved to sit on one of the benches, leaving plenty of room for Charles to sit as well, still unsure of his stance on public displays of affection.  To her surprise - and delight - he sat down immediately next to her, leaning back and crossing his legs.  They both laughed when they saw Bowser sneak up on a baby squirrel and playfully swat its tail, his own wagging furiously.  That is, until the squirrel's mom came scurrying down a nearby tree, chattering angrily and shaking a fist at the four-legged mini Welshman as he bounded away.  Sam turned to say something to Charles, but froze when her hand brushed his, snatching it back in her uncertainty.  She inhaled sharply when she felt his long cool fingers intertwine with hers, resting their hands on her lap.

"Was this what you were looking for?" he asked, a small smirk on his face as he indicated their interlaced fingers.

"Yup," she replied simply.

They sat a bit longer until Bowser came trotting up to them, tongue dangling as he panted tiredly.

"You ready to go home, boy?" Sam asked, leaning down to re-attach his leash.

Charles stood and walked beside Sam as they left the dog park, unable to hold back a smile when he felt her small hand find his large one.  They walked with a comfortable silence between them, all the while Charles' mind was screaming at the contradictions between his personal rules and his physical actions.  He became so lost in thought that it took a firm tug from Sam's hand on his to bring him to the present.

"W-would you like some coffee?" she asked timidly, nodding toward The Daily Grind which stood before them.

"A dose of caffeine sounds perfect right about now," he agreed, then asked "But what about my fellow Welsh kinsman?" gesturing toward Bowser.

"Oh, he's allowed to come in," Sam raised an amused eyebrow at Charles' obvious attachment to her pup.

"Excellent," nodded Charles, holding the door open for Sam as he turned to whisper behind his hand to the black and white pooch, "I would have snuck you in anyway," receiving a tail waggle in response.

They walked up to the counter, Sam seeing Dee's eyes widen as a large grin spread across her face.

"Hey Sam," she said, tone teasing, "And this must be the famous Charles."

"Famous?" questioned Charles.

"Ahah," Sam laughed nervously, "Yes, this is Charles.  Charles, this is Dee, a good friend of mine."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," Charles nodded toward Dee.

"I like your accent," she smirked, looking directly at Sam.

"I…well thank you," he responded, unsure.

"Oh hey Sam!  And...Charles, right?" greeted Link as he came out from the kitchen.

"Hey Link!" called Sam.

"Good morning," nodded Charles.

"And Bowser, of course," Link grinned as he stooped down to scratch behind his ears.

"What can I get you two?" asked Dee.

"I’ll try the honey almond latte," smiled Sam, turning to Charles.

"Cappuccino, if you please."

"Coming right up," stated Dee, setting about making their drinks.

"So, Charles," started Link, attempting some small talk, "Do you prefer the men you're with to be taller or shorter than you? Because I know someone who..." he trailed off when Sam snorted, seeing her shaking with mirth, while both of Charles' eyebrows seemed to disappear into his hairline.

"Uhhh..." Link tried to think of how he could backtrack, when a familiar voice from a nearby table called out, "Hey Sam!"

She turned, laughter petering out, to see Angela and Vikki drinking coffee and eating some baked goods, waving to them in response.

Charles cleared his throat and leaned down toward Sam's ear, saying "Why don't you go ahead and sit with your friends? I'll bring our coffee over when it's finished."

"O-okay," blushed Sam, "Thanks Charles."

She walked with Bowser over to sit with the girls, Charles turning back to the two baristas in front of him; one beet red with embarrassment, the other still chuckling as she stage whispered at the former, "He and Sam are a thing, Link!"

"I…well...I-I just..." Link tried to come up with some form of apology, but was saved when a loud beeping emitted from the kitchen, "Whoops gotta get that!" disappearing in a flash.

Charles looked over at Dee, eyebrow raised at the expression on her face, "I am into women, for the record."

"Yes, so I've heard," she winked at him, prompting a deep blush to rise on his cheeks.  She then placed two mugs on the counter in front of him, "One latte and one cappuccino, enjoy COG."

Charles closed his eyes and took a deep breath, putting on an air of frustration, but really trying to hold back an amused smile, "Thank you, Dee."

"Not a problem, and I'm sure we'll see you again soon," she teased.

He smirked and grabbed the two coffees, carrying them over to the table where Sam had sat, taking a seat beside her, across from Vikki, while Angela sat across from Sam.

"Hello Charles," smiled Vikki warmly, "I'm Vikki, and this is Angela," she gestured to the redhead beside her who responded with a "Sup," her fingers forming a peace sign.

"Lovely to meet you both," nodded Charles as he lightly stirred his cappuccino, "I've heard a fair bit about you two."

"Likewise," smirked Vikki, waggling her eyebrows.

For the second time in as many minutes, Charles blushed.  

Sam coughed as she'd inhaled some of her latte in embarrassment, and rapidly tried to change the subject to ask what the girls were up to that day.  They all talked a bit about their plans for the rest of the day; Vikki teaching a class shortly, Angela needing to pick up some items for her manslayer cosplay, and Sam unsure of what she would be doing.  Charles sat back, listening to them chat, until Angela addressed him during a slight lull in conversation, "So, what was growing up in London like?"

Charles sighed, then answered, "I wouldn't know, I didn't grow up there."

"But aren't you English?" Angela asked, seeing Charles pinch the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

"Angela," Vikki's amusement belied her attempt at admonition, "We've told you many times, he's Welsh, making him hail from Wales."

Charles shot an appreciative smile towards Vikki, though it soon became a frown with an eye twitch when Angela said, "Alright, alright, easy there whale boy."

Sam couldn't help the laugh that burst out of her, earning a small smile from Charles.

"You'll get it one day," Vikki said, patting Angela's hand.

They all continued talking a bit longer before going their separate ways, Vikki to her yoga studio, Angela to a specialty shop, and Charles and Sam with Bowser toward Charles' car.  Just before he got in, Sam stood up on her tiptoes, bringing her arms around him in a hug.  Charles returned the embrace, then leaned back just enough to tilt her chin upward, pressing a lingering kiss to her lips.

"I will see you out here tomorrow morning," he said softly.

"Until then," she nodded.

Charles quickly bent down to ruffle Bowser's ears, saying "And I will see you soon as well," finishing it off with a shake, hand to paw.

Sam led Bowser over to the sidewalk as Charles got into his car, giving a small wave before pulling away from the curb.  Sam sighed as she turned toward her apartment building with Bowser following along.  As they walked, she dialled Monica, listening to it ring on the other end.

"Well hey there missy," Monica’s tone was teasing right off the bat when she answered.

"H-hey Monica," Sam blushed.

"Soooo how was your night?" Sam could practically hear the wink in her friend’s voice, proceeding to tell her the details of the night before.

"Not exactly exciting but…" Sam trailed off, holding her phone between her chin and shoulder as she unclipped Bowser’s leash inside her apartment.

"Are you kidding?" Monica exclaimed, "He came to take care of you when you weren’t feeling well, which is super cute.  Not to mention, there’s something to be said about the intimacy of just sleeping with someone."

"Yeah," Sam sighed wistfully, recalling the warmth of his arms around her as she’d woken, "What about you and Marshall? How was dinner?"

"The food was great! We went to this fancy thai place he’d heard about from another Viewtuber.  And…I got to see Ben a bit more.  He’s certainly different from the ‘Marshall’ I’ve come to know, but…"

"But you love him just the same?" intuited Sam.

"Yeah," Monica breathed.

"I think I overheard you saying something about s-second base last night?" Sam asked, eyebrow raised.

This time, it was Monica who blushed, it showing in her voice, "There was definitely some over-the-clothes action, and hands got involved…God I love those fingers.  I told him I want to take this kind of slow though, and once he stopped thinking with his dick," Sam giggled, "He agreed that it was a good idea."

"I’m so happy for you, Monica," Sam said genuinely as a grin spread across her face.

"Thanks, Sam," Monica replied just as sincerely, "We should meet up and do something this week."

"I would love that."

"Why don’t you let me take you for a manicure?" suggested Monica.

"I…I can’t remember the last time I had one," mused Sam.

"All the more reason for it then!" Monica clapped her hands.

"Alright," Sam agreed.

"How’s Thursday afternoon? Once you’re done work?" asked Monica.

"Perfect," Sam nodded into her phone.

"Then it’s a date!" declared Monica, "I’ll talk to you soon, kiddo."

"Okay, take care, Monica."

"You too."

The call ended and Sam smiled, excited for her friend.  She looked around her apartment and decided to work on Evermake for the remainder of the day; her progress, of course, interspersed with text conversations with a certain blond Welshman.

The rest of Sunday, as well as Monday and Tuesday passed by relatively uneventfully, Charles' evenings being filled with fencing lessons, and one of Sam's with a scheduled video call to her family; Jay and Ruth joining in remotely.  One of the moments that stuck out during that time had been on Tuesday, when Sam had gone into Charles' office and asked if she could make him dinner as a thank you for taking care of her over the weekend - and perhaps also to celebrate being free from a certain 'visitor'.  He'd said it was unnecessary, but suggested his Wednesday night was free, pretending he wasn’t eager to spend more time with her.  And so, Wednesday rolled around, the early afternoon having Sam fidgeting in her desk chair.  Knowing she would be going over to Charles' place that night, she'd decided to play things on the bold side that morning, donning the black lace lingerie outfit from Monica underneath her work clothes; a white button-down blouse tucked into a long, body-conforming navy skirt.  She had never worn so much lace before, and found it sat somewhat oddly, though not necessarily unpleasantly. 

She looked up to a knock on the door, calling "Come in," smiling when she saw Charles enter the room. 

He closed the door behind himself, several papers in his hands as he said, "Do you have time to go over some things for our meeting with Mr. Sanchal Sr. two weeks from now?"

"Definitely," she nodded, watching as he pulled a chair up to sit beside her at her desk.

For the next half hour or so, they went over the plans, Sam repeatedly squirming in her chair.  On what must have been her 20th seating readjustment, Charles finally dropped the papers he was holding onto the desk and turned to face her.

"Is something bothering you, Samara? You've been unable to sit still since I walked in here."

"I-it's not you, or rather, it k-kind of is, but-" she blushed, cut off when Charles lightly gripped her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes.

"Out with it, Bunty," his voice was gentle.

Sam bit her lip, keeping her eyes on his as she undid the top few buttons of her shirt, pulling it sideways to reveal the bodysuit underneath.  Charles' eyes darkened and his pants tightened to see that beneath her already highly appealing work attire, she was wearing some rather classy lingerie...for him.  He was momentarily rendered speechless, opting instead to stand abruptly and walk to the door, a confused Sam staring after him.  He opened it and peeked outside, ensuring that the coast was clear. 

His searching gaze met only the mischievous eyes of a certain redheaded receptionist who gave him a saucy wink.  He scowled in return before closing the door again and locking it.  Sam stood as he strode back over to her.  He kicked her chair away with his foot, and pulled her into a fiery kiss.  His tongue sought hers as he moved to unbutton the rest of her shirt, her hands reaching around him and clutching the back of his suit jacket.  He dipped his head and kissed along her collarbones, then down betwixt the inner curves of her breasts, pausing to grasp her stiffened nipple between his teeth, his tongue running over the lace covering it.

"Was this for me?" he asked, hooking a finger beneath the edge of the bodysuit that ran over her shoulder, running it along her skin until it just brushed her areola.

"Y-yes," she whimpered, needing more.

"It's perfect," he hummed, slipping his digits beneath the delicate fabric, pinching and rolling her nipple between them, "You're perfect."

Sam pulled him in for a kiss this time, lips crashing, she nipping his bottom lip, he running his tongue over hers.  While his hands busied themselves with her chest, she reached down and gripped the hem of her skirt, hiking it up around her waist.  Charles groaned softly at the sight of her shapely legs in the revealing garment's high hipline.  One of his hands traced a path down her front, all the way to between her legs, rubbing lightly over the engorged flesh he could feel beneath the damp lace.  The added texture of the material did wonders for Sam, particularly as he increased his pressure, breathing in her gasp.  She reached forward and quickly undid his pants, reaching in to pull his length free of its material restraints.  She stroked him a few times, feeling his body judder as she did so, stirring a sense of satisfaction within her.  Her other hand gripped his jacket lapel, trying to pull him in closer to her.

"Is there something on your mind, Bunty?" he teased breathily.

"I...I want..." Charles waited patiently for her to muster the courage to answer, knowing it would be worth it, "I want you to f-fuck me, Charles, please."

"Then I am all too happy to oblige," he breathed, kissing along her neck as his hips bucked involuntarily due to Sam's handiwork.

He kissed her once more then spun her, coaxing her to lean forward.  She obliged, planting her palms on the desk, bent completely over in front of him.  He had to stifle a groan at the sight, pulling a condom from his wallet - he'd learned to be prepared too - and applying it to himself, empty packet tossed to the floor.  

"You will have to keep quiet, love, the walls aren't exactly soundproof," he murmured as he lightly squeezed her rear cheeks with his hands, not even noticing the endearment fall from his lips, "Can you do that?"

Sam nodded vigorously in response, biting her lip hard.

"Good girl," he sighed, dragging the fingers of one hand along her lace-covered entrance, slipping beneath the edge to rub directly on her clit. 

Sam did her best to muffle her moan, head dropping toward the desk.  She trembled as she felt him push his thumb into her, sliding it in and out as his fingers caressed her sensitive nub.  He drew his actions out for a moment, enjoying how easily she came apart at his touch.  When he couldn't hold off any longer, he brought himself to stand behind Sam, gently pulling the bodysuit aside, aligning himself with her core, teasing her with his tip.  He could see her fingernails practically digging into the desk top with her need, her hips trying to push backward as he slid his shaft along her folds. 

She gasped out a “Please,” turning to look at him over her shoulder.  More than willing to indulge her, he swiveled his hips forward, completely burying himself inside of her.  Sam let out a sob, clapping her hand to her mouth to cover any further noise.  As he pulled back out, they both heard the sound of somewhat loud music seeping in through the door from the direction of Lucy's desk.

"Bless that randy ginger," Charles smirked, realizing precisely what Lucy was doing.

He jerked his pelvis, entering her more swiftly than the first time, both of them holding back groans with the deep connection.  Charles reached a hand around her to continue drawing enticing whorls over her clit as he picked up the pace of his thrusting; his other hand firmly gripping the curve of her hip.  He could hear Sam's breathing become heavy against her palm as she continued holding it over her mouth; the sounds of muffled moans quite clear to his ears.  He could already feel her growing close, and that, combined with knowing she had worn lingerie to work, unbeknownst to anyone but him, had him following right behind her. 

He felt her walls clench around him, her hand smacking the surface of the desk as she came, an audible "Charles!" sounding from behind her hand.  He clenched his jaw to prevent his own cry from escaping, reaching his own release at the end of a harsh thrust deep inside of her.  They both held their positions as they caught their breath, coming down from a pleasurable high.  Charles moved first, pulling out from Sam and gripping the hem of her skirt, pulling it back down to sit properly over her legs.  Sam turned to face him, pressing a light kiss to his lips before reaching down to slide the condom off of him, rolling both it and the packaging, which she’d picked up from the floor, into some tissues.  She hastily did up the buttons of her shirt, then looked to Charles as he finished re-fastening his trousers.

"I-if I had known I would get this reaction, I would have worn lingerie to work a lot sooner," she smiled at him.

"With great power, comes great responsibility," he responded, eyebrow arched playfully.

"I'm just going to run to the washroom and clean up," she said, wad of tissues in hand, intending to throw it out in the garbage there.

"I will return to my office," he said, bending to kiss her once more before she walked to the door, unlocking it and stepping out.

He took a deep, centering breath before gathering up the papers on Sam's desk and heading for the doorway.  As he walked out, he noticed that Lucy's desk was unoccupied, the music no longer playing; the memory sparking a smile as he stepped into his office.

In the washroom, Sam tossed the Kleenex into the garbage before doing what she could to clean up, using the facilities as well.  When she came out of the stall, she almost walked straight into Lucy, the latter reaching out to steady her.

"Hey, Sam?" said Lucy, a devious smile plastered on her face.

"Yeah?"

"Your buttons are done up improperly."

Sam blushed intensely and fixed her shirt, not even attempting to stammer out an excuse as she knew her friend was well aware of the reason.  She made it back to her office without incident, or any further teasing, and wondered how she was going to make it through the rest of the afternoon knowing what they had done on her desk…

Charles had spent the rest of the day with his mind firmly fixated on the image of Sam in black lace.  Knowing it was a secret from everyone else, that he was the only one privy to such knowledge, had driven him into a perpetual state of desire, frustratingly so.  At 30 minutes earlier than their normal departure time, Charles closed up shop and went to Sam's office, stating it was time to go.  Sam merely raised an amused, albeit aroused, eyebrow on looking at the clock. 

They said goodbye to a wickedly grinning Lucy, hearing her shout "Umed, I won this pool!" behind them as they made for the elevator. 

Sam made Charles stop at the grocery store on the way back to his place so she could get the ingredients she needed for the meal she was planning.  He spent the entire time trying to hurry her through her food selections, only endearing himself to Sam with how eager he was to get her somewhere private.  The groceries bought, Charles seemed to be pushing the pedal to the metal the rest of the way to his apartment.  When they got in, he hastily shoved the food in the fridge, tossed his suit jacket on the kitchen counter, then gripped her wrist, pulling her toward the stairs.

"My bedroom, now," he spoke into her ear, voice deep.

"Yes, Mister Jones," she breathed in reply, walking up the stairs as enticingly as she could manage.

His eyes remained glued to her behind the entire way, watching it sway with the movement of her climbing the steps. At the top, she stood facing his bed as he walked up behind her, his hand grasping her hip then sliding up her body to her neck, the tips of his fingers guiding her head sideways so he could capture her lips over her shoulder.  She returned the embrace, leaning back into him, grinding against his not-so-subtle excitement.  Still maintaining the kiss, he brought his hands around to her back, unfastening her skirt and sliding it off her hips.  It fell to the floor and she stepped out of it, kicking it off to the side. 

He moved one hand around to her front, fingers grazing over her lace-covered clit as he shifted the fabric back and forth, eliciting bolder sensations that shot through her.  He nipped her bottom lip and then moved to kiss along her pulse point.  His low voice held a commanding tone as he murmured "Undo your buttons," gripping the fabric of the bodysuit just above the apex of her thighs, firmly tugging it upward so that the crotch of the garment rubbed firmly against her sensitive flesh, evoking a soft moan from her.  Her fingers shook as she began clumsily undoing her blouse, cursing herself internally with 'Why did I have to pick a shirt with so many damn buttons!'  A movement of his wrist applied further textured pressure to her clit, while his other hand slid into the gap between her shirt and chest, pinching then rolling her nipple.  Every time she slowed down in her motions, he would hold off on his movements, smirking at the frustrated huff she let out when she realized what he was doing. 

She doubled up on her efforts in concentration, noting only two buttons were left.  He seemed to increase the pressure and speed between his hands, as if he were challenging her; which only encouraged Sam to get the buttons undone more quickly, practically ripping the bottom one off in her haste.  The instant it was free, Charles spun her and kissed her hard, tugging the blouse off of her and dropping it on the floor.  With one hand fisted in her hair and the other gripping her ass cheek, he slowly walked her backward toward his bed.  When he felt her hit the edge of it, he bent forward, lowering her down to the mattress.  She slowly shuffled up toward the head of the bed as he crawled over her, their lips still joined.  He slid his hands beneath the wide lace straps of her outfit, smoothing them down over her shoulders, her arms, her hands, exposing her breasts to the less than warm air. 

She reached down to stroke her hand over the firm bulge in his pants, instigating tremors through the arm he was holding himself up with.  His other hand loosened his tie from around his neck, pulling it off through his collar.  He shifted so that his weight was supported by his knees and one elbow, his fingers deftly working the tie into a handcuff knot, then slipping the loops over her hands while she was distracted by his teeth nipping her earlobe.  Feeling the silk encircling her wrists, she watched Charles tuck his hands between the mattress and the headboard, securing the other end of the tie to something there.  He kissed her tenderly and met her gaze, asking "Is this alright, Bunty?"

"Yes," she breathed, arching up into him.

"You need only tell me if that ever changes," he murmured, kissing along her jaw.

He saw her nod and, her permission granted, he grinned wickedly as his lips rested on the outer curve of her ear, his voice deep "Then for now, you are mine."

She gasped as he began blazing a path with his lips along her skin, following the curve of her neck, the hollow of her throat, along one collarbone then the other.  He continued toward one of her nipples using his tongue, circling it around the taut peak, feeling her skin pebble in response.

"You are so very responsive, aren't you, Bunty?" he teased, breath blowing across her skin dampened by his tongue.  She gasped at the sensation, pulling lightly against her restraints as her hips sought out his, drawing a dark chuckle from him. "So eager," he murmured, tugging her lingerie slowly down over her hips, nipping and licking her flesh as it became exposed in a painstaking fashion, tasting every inch of her.  He followed the fabric all the way down to her ankles, tossing it behind him as he resumed his ministrations back up the inside of her other leg, hearing her exhale in shallow pants.  On his way past, he dragged his tongue along her folds and over her clit, relishing the whimper she let out as he continued upward, back to her neck.  He settled his hips between her legs, grinding his erection against her centre, smirking as she uttered a low moan.  When she tried to wrap her legs around him to hold him in place, Charles raised his hips so that they were out of reach.

"Patience is a virtue, Samara," he scolded softly, moving to leverage himself up off the bed.

"I'm not exactly looking for virtuousness right now," she grumbled, eyes following him as he went to his closet and pulled out another tie, this one of jet black satin.  

He rolled up his sleeves and undid the top few buttons on his shirt as he walked back over, eyes raking across her naked body, skin flushed with desire; her desire for him.  He held the black tie in his hand as he kneeled on the bed beside her, languidly trailing the soft fabric along the skin of her arm, across her shoulders, over her nipples, his jaw clenching on seeing her twitch at the feel of it.  He dragged it over her navel as he re-situated himself between her legs, positioning the tie to rest over her entrance; the feathery sensation of the fabric somehow driving her just as mad as his fingers might.  He bent low and pressed a kiss to her clit through the tie, already feeling the satin growing damp.

"You always seem to be so wet, Bunty," he commented, lips once again pressed to the tie as he drew it upwards, tongue seeking her sensitive flesh when the satin no longer separated them.

"It's you," she sighed, hips bucking at the sudden contact.

He hummed in approval, the vibration from his lips translating through her, adding on to her already heightened awareness of his touch.  He enveloped her small hub of nerves with his lips and sucked, flicking his tongue over it at the sound of her loud moan.  

"That's it," he coaxed, flattening his tongue and swiping it along her folds, tasting her thoroughly, "Let me hear you."

"Charles pleaaaaaaase," she dragged out the plea as he repeated his motion.

"Please what?" he smirked, lessening his pressure as he went for a third go.

"P-please," she looked down over her body at him, catching his intense ocean blue gaze with a chocolate brown one of her own, "Use your fingers."

"How can I deny such a lovely request?" he asked, bringing himself up to his knees and leaning over her.  

He propped himself up with one hand as he brought the other one to her mouth, running his index and middle fingers over her bottom lip.  She figured out what he wanted, and parted her lips, closing them around his digits as they slowly pushed in, her tongue swirling over them as she sucked.  She felt him shudder in response, slowly pulling his hand backward and moving back down her body, his mouth reuniting with her clit as his fingers slid inside of her.  

She let out a loud, "Ahh!" when he did so, squirming as his tongue danced over her rosy pearl while his fingers built up a rhythm.  She was already so keyed up that he could feel her muscles tightening, her breaths quickening.  Just as she was approaching her climax, he suddenly stopped, smiling serenely in the face of her confused frustration.

"Anticipation only amplifies the experience, love," this time he did notice the affectionate nickname escaping his mouth, but decided not to dwell on it just now.

He moved to taste more of her body, including sinking his teeth into the muscles of her arms that flexed as she pulled against the tie binding her in place.  He took a leisurely meandering path back down toward where she needed him most, pausing to pay attention to each of her nipples gliding his lips over the skin of her abdomen back to her clit.  His fingers joined in with his lips, once again bringing her near the edge.  And yet again, he stopped just before she was about to be flung from it, earning a sob from her.  He went back to seeking out her erogenous zones with his lips, teeth, and tongue, fully aware of the aroused glare she shot him the entire time.  Just as before, he returned to the one button she was desperate for him to press, using only his tongue this time to work her up; swirling it around her flushed nub, as well as along and between her folds. 

She let out a growl when he pulled away this time, her voice raw with need as she said, "Haven't you teased me enough?"

His eyes met hers, "When it comes to you, Bunty, I'm not entirely sure I can get enough."  He moved past the sincere moment as he continued with "What is it you want? I'm quite certain you know which words I'm waiting to hear."

"Please?" she tried, pouting out her lower lip.

He looked at her pointedly with an arched eyebrow.

"Please, Charles!" Her voice broke as he dragged his thumb over her clit with one quick swipe, but no more.

Sam screwed her eyes shut, practically shouting "Charles, please let me finish!"  Then, for added measure, she made eye contact with him and whispered, "Please make me c-come."

"As you wish," he breathed, voice low, gaze hungry as he applied his mouth and fingers double time to precisely where she needed it, using his forearms to prevent her thighs from clenching around his head.

Within mere seconds, her vision exploded into a white hot climax as she launched over a precipice she'd been balancing on since he'd secured her wrists.  He gently soothed her down from her high as he continued stroking her until she squirmed away from his mouth, the sensation too much.

"And was that worth the wait?" he asked, kissing his way back up to her mouth.

"Absolutely," she responded, still breathless.

He kissed her soundly on the lips before shifting over her and coming to stand beside the bed.  She watched as he slowly undid his vest and shrugged it off, giving his shirt the same treatment as her fingers itched to touch him.  He saw her tugging against the tie and wagged a finger at her, "I think I rather like you in this position."

She liked it too, which was why the glare she shot him was only half-hearted.  He grabbed a condom from his bedside drawer and removed the rest of his clothing, leaving it piled on the floor.  He applied the latex with such practiced ease, his eyes so focused on the woman before him, that he barely registered doing it.  He climbed back onto the bed and brought their lips to meet once again before positioning himself between her legs, his folded beneath him.  He gripped her ass and lifted her upward to rest on his thighs, her back arching slightly.

She gasped, throwing her head back as his cock prodded at her entrance.  He refused to enter her further though, 'tsk'ing' when she tried pushing herself onto him.  She looked in his eyes and breathed, "Please, Mister Jones."

Either that seemed to do the trick or he had very little self-control left as he plunged into her and set a bruising rhythm, her cries spurring him on.  One of his hands, combined with his legs, continued holding her in place, while he rubbed her clit with the thumb of his other.  He could feel her approaching her orgasm even faster than when he'd been torturing her earlier; which worked quite well for him as he'd been painfully turned on since he'd first seen the black lace covering her body; their bout at the office nowhere near quenching his thirst for her.  The tightening of her muscles around his length as she came forcefully, shouting his name, brought him to climax as well, sounding his with a loud groan.  On catching his breath, he pulled out, moving to lay beside her.  He leaned over her and kissed her softly, forehead pressed to hers.

"What have you done to me?" he questioned.

She knew it was rhetorical, but answered anyway, "I'd like to think I won you over with my charm and quick wit."

“Indeed,” Charles smiled as he kissed her nose, “Now, I believe you had some plans regarding dinner…”

Chapter Text

Music suggestion: At the words "I believe I already have" and again at "Then we'll have to be quick" ...Or loop it hehe https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QZ_v2wkBt3k&ab_channel=thephantomsrawk

"Indeed," smiled Charles as he kissed the tip of her nose, "Now, didn't you have some plans regarding dinner?"  

"You mean you're still hungry?" she smirked.

"Insatiable," he murmured, kissing her neck before adding, "Though I think perhaps it would be in both of our best interests to acquire sustenance before round two...or I suppose it's three now."

Sam blushed fiercely, moving to get up, though was halted by the tie still secured around her wrists.  "Umm a little help?" she asked, indicating the restraint.

"Of course, my apologies," Charles smirked, reaching up to untie her bonds from the bed.

He loosened the knot and slid off his tie, slowly easing her arms over her head to rest on her stomach.  He pressed a kiss to the inside of each of her wrists, massaging them lightly; even though she’d barely noticed the fabric pressing into her skin.  She gave each wrist a little twist and then ran her hands through his hair, pulling him to her for a kiss.

"At this rate," he spoke against her lips, "We'll be having a very late dinner."

"Mmmm," she responded dazedly, then seemed to snap out of it a bit, "Oh, a-actually it does take a bit of time to cook."

"Alright then," he nodded, reluctantly pulling himself up from the bed and offering her a hand.

She sat up and took it, her feet finding ground as he pulled her to standing.  He gestured to the en suite bathroom, "Why don't you use this one and I'll use the guest restroom downstairs."

"Okay," Sam smiled shyly, making for the bathroom before a realization struck her, cheeks pink as she turned to Charles, "I...I didn't b-bring...I mean I've never worn..."

Charles took in her words, then looked to the lingerie on the floor, his eyebrow raising as he made the connection, "You didn't bring any underwear."

Sam scrunched up her nose and nodded in response.  Charles chuckled and stepped up to her, thumb grazing over her collarbone, his voice soft as he said "You could just stay like this, I certainly wouldn't have any objections."

He laughed again at the glare she shot him, then moved toward his dresser, "In that case, I have some boxer briefs you may borrow.  No panties here, I'm afraid."

"You do still owe me a pair," she replied cheekily.

"I suspect I will come to owe you many," his eyes darkened as he handed her a pair of his undergarments.

Sam raised her chin slightly, eyes glinting with mischief as she responded, "Then maybe I'll just stop wearing them all together," leaving a mildly agape Charles in her wake as she walked out.

He shook himself, his suddenly active imagination not making it easier to exit the room.  He cleared his throat and grabbed a pair of underwear for himself, along with a light pair of green pants and a white, soft, thin long-sleeved shirt before heading to the guest bathroom.  There, he cleaned himself up and decided to switch out his contacts for his glasses.  Once dressed, he made for the kitchen, pulling out the groceries he'd hurriedly shoved in the fridge earlier.  As he removed the items from the bags, he recognized the combination and felt a twinge in his chest on realizing what she had planned. 

He heard her coming down the stairs and turned to give her a heartfelt thank you, but instead felt his heart jump into his throat when she came into view wearing not only his underwear, but also his shirt.  The coalescence of the elements before him; she in his clothes, wearing his scent, after just letting him have complete control, plus her plan to cook him something that brought him right back to his childhood, had him feeling incredibly exposed.  Something akin to a flare of heat flashed through his chest and he was floored, watching her walk toward him.  Sam, in turn, hid her own shock at seeing him wearing his glasses and such casual clothing; a sight she wasn't treated to all that often.  She took in his expression and simply went to stand in front of him, leaning up on her tiptoes to press a kiss to the side of his jaw.  That seemed to shake him out of whatever stupor he'd fallen into and he bent his head so his lips met hers briefly, his fingers drifting over his sleeves on her arms.

"I see you've set everything out," she smiled, moving to examine the food.

"These ingredients look fairly familiar," he answered knowingly, standing beside her.

"I-I wanted to make you something special," she said shyly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"I...I'm touched, Samara, truly.  Cawl brings back very fond memories for me," his voice held a wistful quality.

"I would love to hear about them," said Sam.

Charles smiled warmly at her and, while they started preparing the Welsh dish, began telling her a bit about his upbringing in Wales.  As they each peeled and cut different vegetables, he recounted the times when he would half-assedly pick potatoes from the garden, not bothering to sort for the better ones, and bring them back to his Mam.  He very quickly learned to stop doing that as Mammy Jones would not hesitate to chuck the less-than-acceptable sprouts at him; the image drawing a laugh from Sam.  After finding out he'd grown up on a farm, Sam had asked what that had been like, and he'd obliged her curiosity in describing his daily chores while they continued the vegetable prep. 

He found himself regaling her with even the walk he would take into town to get things his Mam needed from the store, or about his pet lamb, Chompy - whom he secretly called Cachwr (*shit head) out of his mother's earshot - unable to stem the flow of stories as they came out.  As they started to cook, he flipped it on Sam, asking her about her childhood.  He laughed on hearing how young Sam had once put her lifejacket on upside down while camping and, on falling in the water, had floated upside down until Jay righted her.  He then swallowed audibly when, on the same camping trip, Samuel had broken the wood-chopping axe so had resorted to tearing the logs with his hands for firewood. 

When Charles saw Sam start to remove the sautéed vegetables from the pan, he gestured for her to pause for a minute as he walked over to a tall cupboard.  He pulled out his black apron and moved back over to her, looping it over her head and pulling the strings around her, tying them behind her back.  There was a comfortable intimacy to the moment that had him feeling both hopeful and uneasy.  He tamped the emotions down as he listened to Sam continue with her family camping stories.  Once the Cawl was set to simmer for a couple of hours, Charles made a quick plate of several cheeses and crackers.  He poured himself a glass of wine, and one of water for Sam after she'd indicated she wasn't yet ready for another experience with alcohol.

"Would you care to join me on the terrace?" he asked, "I have a decent view of the sky."

"That sounds nice," she nodded, following him out the patio window.

The night was warm and Sam found that even in just boxer briefs and Charles' dress shirt, she was comfortable.  She sat beside him on the couch, grabbing a piece of smoked gouda and popping it into her mouth as she looked over at Charles, who was staring at the sky.  She turned her gaze upward up to see what he saw, and could just faintly make out some of the stars that were there, particularly the brighter ones.

"There's a fair bit of light pollution," Charles said apologetically, "But it's still something."

"I bet it doesn't compare to the view you had from your farm," she replied, voice quiet.

"You are correct on that front," he nodded, "We could see the Milky Way from there."

Sam held in the question she had poised on the tip of her tongue, 'Why did you leave Wales?' as she figured the answer likely had something to do with his previous marriage.  Instead, she asked, "Did you look at the stars often?"

There was enough light coming from his apartment to reveal the light blush on his cheeks as he said, "I...had my own telescope."

"That's...adorable," she laughed.

"I wanted to learn more about the sky, since the ground wasn't particularly interesting," he huffed.

"The stars are definitely alluring," she sighed, then admitted, "...I used to have a telescope too, I still do somewhere."

"That does not even remotely surprise me," Charles smiled, looking over to her.

He took her in, her glasses glinting as her eyes looked upward, mouth slightly open in wonder.  His shirt hung loosely over her shoulders, lending a decent view of her cleavage where she'd left the buttons undone.  He also appreciated the view of her legs currently crossed in front of her, his boxer briefs riding up on her thighs.

He couldn't stop himself from murmuring, "The stars aren't the only ones with allure," before he leaned in, his hand on her jaw, turning her face so her lips met his.

He'd obviously kissed her plenty of times before, but Sam felt that this one was different, deeper almost.  She uncrossed her legs and brought one hand up to run through his hair while the other smoothed along the front of his chest.  He wrapped an arm around her and tilted forward, lowering her down to the couch.  She scooted back until he was able to maneuver himself to settle between her legs.  For a while, they simply kissed, hands exploring each other in an unhurried fashion.  Involuntarily, Charles' hips bucked when Sam lightly bit at his pulse point, moaning as he ground against her.  She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him to her as his hand began questing beneath the hem of his dress shirt, seeking her skin.  Just as the heat was rising, they both jumped when an alarm on Sam's phone sounded loudly, ending the moment.

"Oh, it's time to add the potatoes," she said almost regretfully, sitting up as Charles stood.

"I'll do it," he smiled as he moved toward the kitchen, though halted when he felt a small hand on his forearm.

"I'm cooking for you, remember?" she teased, standing and walking through the patio door.

Charles shook his head amusedly and grabbed the plate and glasses they'd brought out, bringing them inside with him.  He placed them on the kitchen bar, then propped his elbows on it, just watching Sam as she removed the beef from the pot and added the potatoes to boil.  He didn't see it often, but he found himself admiring her confident movements as she followed the recipe, even though it was one she'd never tried before.  With about 15 minutes left until the meal was ready, Charles began pulling down soup bowls with their serving plates, bringing them over to set the table. 

Something about the warm familiarity of the dish had him setting their places on either side of the corner of the table; more or less beside each other, rather than across from one another.  He added utensils to the place settings and brought two glasses with a pitcher of cold water from the fridge to rest between them.  Sam watched him through it all, grinning madly when he took two dark brown cloth napkins from a drawer and actually folded them fancily, placing them into the bowls.

"Did you learn that in fancypants school?" she teased, cutting the beef into small pieces before adding it back to the pot.

"Can't a man have his hobbies?" Charles retorted, smile tugging upward on his lips.

"So you learned it from some Viewtube videos?" she joked, leaning against the counter with her arms crossed in front of her.

"Poogle Video, actually," he sniffed.

Sam realized he was being serious and couldn't stop the hearty laugh that poured out from her.  Charles turned to see her; her visage, lightened by the carefree nature of her levity, sparked a lightheartedness of his own.  He chuckled, then strode forward, planting his palms against the counter on either side of her hips, effectively caging her in.

"You dare laugh at me?" he challenged, eyebrow raised.

"Yes, I dare," she fired back, "Though I would rather laugh with you, considering you have such a nice laugh."

The candid tone behind her words caught him off guard and he blushed, eyes searching hers for the sincerity he already knew to be there.  The power of speech at that moment failed him, so he bent forward and kissed her neck, repeating himself on her other side so he could draw another sweet gasp from her.  She gripped the front of his shirt and pulled him closer, their lips meeting in a heated give-and-take.  Sam let out a groan as the kitchen timer sounded, indicating the food was ready.

"Fear not, Bunty," he teased, kissing her nose, "We still have the rest of the night.  And besides, your Cawl smells far too delicious not to eat."

Sam's cheeks flushed as she shyly replied, "I just hope I did it justice."

Charles handed Sam a trivet and picked up the pot, following her to the table.  Once they were settled, Sam took Charles' bowl and ladled a good amount into it, placing it in front of him and then doing the same with hers.  Charles scooped a good spoonful, blowing on the steamy contents before bringing it to his mouth, closing his eyes as he savoured it.  Sam could only watch, too anxious to taste hers just yet.  When he opened his eyes again, she could have sworn she saw them shining as he said, "It tastes like home."

"I'm glad," she muttered bashfully, looking down at the table.

"Have you tried it yourself?" he asked, watching her.

"I...n-no not yet," she mumbled, looking up suddenly as a spoon full of Cawl appeared in her field of vision.

His eyes were glued to hers as she blew on the proffered mouthful before closing her lips over it, tasting the flavorful broth as it spread across her tongue.  She chewed thoughtfully, noting his gaze on her throat as she swallowed.

"What do you think?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

"It's amazing," she replied, licking a few drops from her lips.

"I daresay you might have even made it better than my Mam," he smiled, acquiring another spoonful, adding, "Though, perhaps don't tell her I said that."

"She might throw more than potatoes at you if I did," Sam giggled.

"Quite right," he grinned.

They both grew introspective for a moment, Sam thinking on how much he'd opened up to her, and how it only made her even more fond of him than she already was.  Charles, however, was stuck on how easily the idea of Sam talking to his mother had come to his mind; even more astonished at how much he actually wanted the two women to meet.

"Penny for your thoughts?" prompted Sam, savouring another bite.

"I..." Charles' immediate reaction was to clamp down on the words threatening to make themselves heard, but then something inside of him asked 'Why?' so he continued to voice them, "I was just thinking that my mother would actually be quite taken with you."

Sam's cheeks reddened, smiling softly as she said "From what I've heard, the feeling would likely be mutual."

"Iesu mawr, I just had an image of the two of you lobbing vegetables at me," he groaned.

"I wouldn't rule it out," Sam replied cheekily, incredibly pleased to hear him respond with one of the laughs she'd come to covet so highly.

"Perhaps..." he started to say something, but then seemed to fold in on himself, halting whatever sentiment had been about to come from his mouth.

Sam could see that he was really wrestling with himself internally, so she threw him a bone, "Tell me m-more about her?  Please?"

Charles smiled gratefully at her and launched into stories of his mother, both in her younger days and his.  The more Sam listened, the more she felt an appreciation for Charles as a whole, and for Mammy Jones as well.  Long after they'd finished their Cawl, she continued to admire the image he was painting of the strong, charismatic woman who had raised him.  He finished off the tale of when his mother had chased off a brash, would-be suitor with a scythe handle when he realized how long he'd been talking.  He gestured toward the pot still on the table, "We should probably put the rest of that away."

"Agreed," she nodded, bringing it over to the counter while Charles pulled out a large WupperTare container.

"You realize now that I'll need to return the favour," he postulated, pouring the leftover Cawl into the plastic bowl.

"Of cooking dinner?" she smirked, holding the fridge door open for him so he could place the leftovers inside, "I look forward to it."

"Any requests?" he asked, collecting their dishes from the table while Sam pulled a container of fruit from the fridge, rinsing it in the sink.

"W-why don't you make me your favourite meal?" she suggested shyly, turning to find him standing directly behind her, bowls forgotten on the kitchen bar.

"I believe I already have," he rasped, eyes dark as they travelled down her body.

"Dessert?" she asked in a whisper, plucking a strawberry from the selection of fruit and holding it up to his lips.

He bit into it, chewing deliberately as their eyes remained locked.  Sam instantly recalled what had happened the last time a strawberry was involved, and brought the piece she still held to her lips, spreading some of the juice there.  He immediately leaned forward and kissed her, capturing her bottom lip between his teeth, nibbling lightly.  He pulled back and watched her hand as she held the fruit against her skin, drawing a light pink trail along the tops of her breasts.  He bent his head and followed it with his tongue, feeling goosebumps erupt across her flesh.  She bit off the rest of the strawberry and his lips again collided with hers, tasting both her distinct flavour, and the mildly sweet fruit on her tongue.  He undid the buttons of the shirt she was wearing and she shrugged it off; her bosom once again bared to him. 

Before he could move, she gripped the hem of his shirt and tugged, pulling it upward as he raised his arms.  She couldn't fully reach, however, so he finished removing it, jumping slightly when he felt something cool and wet glide down the center of his chest.  He looked down to see Sam dragging her tongue along his skin, collecting a fresh path of pink juice; a newly bitten berry held between her fingers.  Her eyes held his as she took the fruit and swirled it around both of his nipples, loving how his head tilted back when she followed it with her tongue.  He'd had his opportunity to taste her, and now she wanted hers.  She crouched down in front of him, gripping the edge of his pants and underwear, pulling them both down over his hips, watching his erection spring free as she brought the garments to the floor.  She gathered them and then kneeled on them, one hand gripping his hip while the other drew a juicy line from his navel down to the base of his cock, then along the shaft.  She ate the last bit of the strawberry, tossing the stem in the sink before bringing her lips to his skin. 

She felt his fingers entwine in her hair and heard him moan as she licked along her sweet pathway, savouring his taste as she trailed all the way along his length, swirling her tongue around his tip at the end of it.  She watched intently as his jaw went slack when she parted her lips and enveloped the head of his cock with her mouth, bringing him as far down her throat as she could manage.  She swallowed around him and his whimper combined with how his legs trembled turned her on even more than she already had been, his boxer briefs damp between her legs.  She slowly pulled her head back, dragging her tongue along the underside of his shaft as she went, ending with a soft suck.  Just as she'd done in his office, Sam brought her hand to encircle the bottom of his length, once again swallowing him into her as she brought her mouth to reach her fingers.  She built up a rhythm that had his breaths increasing, his fingers dancing a light pressure in her hair.  She varied the accompaniment of her movements between using her tongue and applying suction, discovering what patterns worked very well for him. 

She was just reaching to bring her other hand down toward lower territory when she felt a gentle tug on her hair, releasing him from her mouth with a soft 'pop'.  He bent and grabbed her forearms, gently pulling her to standing and then right up to his lips, capturing hers.  She let out a small squeal of surprise when he bent his knees and picked her up easily by the backs of her thighs, her legs wrapping around him.  As their tongues met, he carried her over to the table and sat her on the edge of it, reminiscent of the first time she'd slept over.  He ground against her, cock rubbing against her folds, separated only by a thin damp barrier of cotton.  He sought to rectify the situation and grasped the bottoms of the boxer briefs, giving a sharp tug.  They came free from beneath her instantly, and were on the floor within seconds.  He reached down, his fingers grazing her clit as she broke from his lips with a moan, then moving to nip at the hollow of his throat.  He traced along her folds, movements becoming slightly erratic when her lips closed around one of his nipples; having discovered it was a sensitive spot for him, she couldn't resist revisiting it.  He gently sank his teeth into the flesh at the base of her neck as he pushed two fingers inside of her, pumping several times before pulling them back out to circle around her sensitive nub.  

"Charles," she groaned, her hips bucking toward him as he repeated the movement.

He knew, on hearing her tone, that he couldn't hold off any longer; he needed her now.  He reached up and gripped the hand she had pressed to his chest, guiding it down until her fingers rested against her clit.

"I need to go to my jacket," she understood his words instantly, "I want you to continue what I've started."

He grew impossibly harder on watching her stroking herself, her pleasure evident in her eyes.  He tore his gaze away to locate his suit jacket, hurriedly pulling a condom from the pocket so he could return to watching her.  Her eyes had drifted closed with her ministrations, though snapped open on hearing him walk closer to her.  After rolling the latex over himself, Charles moved his hand up and down his length as he saw her continuing to caress her own engorged flesh, eyelids half lowered.  He stepped forward and aligned his tip with her entrance while her fingers shifted to focus on her clit.  She continued rubbing as he slowly pushed into her, both moaning when his pelvis brushed against hers, deeply seated.  He held himself there, lifting her legs so he could reach beneath her knees.  He planted his hands on the table top, her legs dangling over his elbows as he leaned forward to kiss her.  He tilted his hips back before thrusting them forward, driving into her.  The rhythm became fast and hard, even more so as the very pleas for it were torn from Sam's lips. 

At some point, he'd gripped her hips and was pushing her down onto him hard, burying himself as deep as he could, while both of her palms were pressed to the table, aiding him.  He could see in her expression that she was getting close, so he fully gripped her ass cheeks and lifted her hips off the table.  He held her suspended, she propping up her upper half, fingers digging into the table.  He pounded into her, hips swiveling as he did, hitting just the right spot inside.  The change in angle also allowed his pelvic bone to rub against her just so, that she rapidly approached her finish.  She threw her head back as she went hurtling over her peak, an explosion of white behind her eyes as she cried out a string of profanities intermingled with several utterances of his name.  The sight of her in the throes of her climax pushed him to his, bringing her down onto him hard, his hips jerking spasmodically as he found his release inside of her.  When he could move properly, he pulled out and set her back down on the table.  She pushed herself up to press a long kiss to his lips, tenderly brushing his hair from his face.

"Perhaps I should consider having a constant supply of strawberries," he remarked.

"I certainly wouldn't complain," she replied, leaning her head against his chest.

He ran his fingers through her hair several times, content to stay in that position.  He startled slightly when he felt her fingers removing the condom from him, then was surprised again when she hopped off the table and bent low to press a kiss to his tip.  She smiled mischievously at him, then moved to throw out the latex, also grabbing a cloth to wipe the table with.  Charles was dumbstruck at how comfortable she was doing these things completely naked in front of him; her complete level of trust in him once again striking him somewhere deep.  He blinked as he realized she was staring expectantly at him, having asked a question.

"I'm sorry, Bunty, could you repeat that? I was a bit distracted..." he said sheepishly.

Sam blushed and smirked at him, "I was just wondering if it would be a-alright for me to take a quick shower? Strawberry juice is kind of sticky."

"You mean I didn't get all of it?" he asked teasingly, eagerly eyeing her form.

"I think we'd be here all night if you tried to," she stepped forward, placing her hand on his chest, able to feel his still racing heartbeat.

"I could go all night," he said, voice deep as he lowered his head to kiss her soundly.

"Didn't you say something about late nights and work in the morning?" she replied coquettishly, smiling against his lips

"You're right," he let out a long sigh, placing a light peck on her forehead as he moved to put the still unattended to dishes in the dishwasher, "You can use my en suite shower, there are clean towels in the cabinet."

Sam was on the verge of saying 'Why don't you join me?', but she held it in, thinking maybe it was just a bit too 'couple-y', unsure of what he'd say.  Instead, she uttered a quiet "Okay," and began walking up the stairs to his bathroom.

Sam got out of the shower and wrapped herself in a towel, her hair still relatively dry from being up in a bun.  She walked into the bedroom to see a shirtless Charles sitting in his bed, reading a book.  At the foot of the bed, were a set of silk dark red pajamas - almost identical to the navy ones Charles wore - folded and waiting for her.  She raised an eyebrow at his obvious anticipation of her spending the night, but stayed quiet as she moved to pull off her towel.  Charles, for his part, had been quite able to see that at this point in time, he was fated to have her in his bed, so why bother fighting it?  His eyes were glued to her as she dried herself off and then hung the towel over a towel rack on the washroom door, returning to the bed to put on his pajamas.  She crawled under the duvet and leaned against him, peering over his shoulder to see what he was reading.

"It's part of a series called 'His Dark Elements'," Charles supplied, closing the book over a perfectly placed bookmark.

"Oh! I've heard good things about it," she nodded as he passed her the novel for her perusal.

"I have the first instalment, you are more than welcome to borrow it," he said fondly as she handed him the book back, placing it on his bedside table.

"Yes please," she yawned, blinking sleepily at him.

"I think it's time we were no longer awake," Charles tried to smirk, but it quickly became a yawn, instigated by her own.

They both turned away from each other and simultaneously removed their glasses, placing them by their respective sides of the bed.  Sam burrowed under the covers and lay on her side with her knees bent, her back to Charles.  The room was plunged into darkness as he turned off the lamp, shifting to lay directly behind her as he slid one arm beneath her pillow, and the other wrapped around her waist.  He kissed her neck and heard a soft, "Goodnight Charles," as her fingers curled around his.

Before he could return the sentiment, Sam voiced a request, "Oh, Charles, can we stop by my place before work tomorrow?  I...I'm going to n-need underwear...and a b-bra."

"I've already set the alarm," he chuckled.

"My hero," she joked sleepily.

As he held her to him, he felt her breaths gradually deepen and slow, able to pinpoint the moment she fell asleep.  It took a bit longer for him to follow suit, as part of his mind was shouting at him for allowing himself to grow so close to her, for not keeping his walls up.  Yet, another part of him was telling the angry part to kindly sod off, and for the first time in a long time...he felt himself looking forward to getting to know another person in a way that he was still getting to know himself.  It was terrifying, and exhilarating; and these thoughts were what guided him into the warm embrace of sleep.

The next morning, they both stirred groggily to Charles' alarm, he hitting the snooze button, and Sam flinging her arms over her face with a groan.  She felt the mattress dip beside her and peeked through her forearms to see Charles leaning over her.  Before she could make a protest about morning breath, he bent his head and kissed her, somehow tasting just as fresh as always.

"Right, Bunty," he said, hopping up, "There's an extra toothbrush in my bathroom you can have, I'll be downstairs."

In response, Sam just dug herself under the comforter, a mumbled "Mmmm don' wannaaaa," emanating through it.

Charles laughed and gripped the edge of the duvet, swiftly flipping it off of her, "Come now, Samara, if you're not quick enough, you'll have to wear your lingerie to work again...not that I'd be opposed."

That seemed to give Sam the motivation she needed to move, swinging her legs off the bed as she said "I bet you wouldn't be."  She made toward the bathroom before adding, "I'll have to keep that in mind for the other lingerie outfits I have," closing the door to succinctly punctuate the comeback, effectively rendering Charles speechless.  He also had a thought that he'd very much like to see the purple set in person, his mind wandering to what the others might look like.

Charles dropped Sam off at her place while he went off to grab coffee and breakfast from a nearby drive-thru cafe.  Sam bolted up the stairs to her apartment, the lace of the lingerie she'd had to put on, for lack of undergarments, rubbing against her in ways that were too sensitizing for this time of morning, she thought.  At the top of the stairs, she almost ran smack into Monica, the shock on her pink-haired friend's face matching her own before they both grinned at one another.

"Looks like we both had a good night there, kiddo," Monica teased.

"I'll say," said Sam, reaching up to smooth a wild tuft of her friend's hair.  She then glanced around the hallway before pulling her shirt aside, showing Monica the black lace beneath.

"Oh I'm glad to see it getting some use!" Monica exclaimed happily, "You'll give me details at our manicure later?"

"Absolutely," grinned Sam, "And same goes for you!"

They hugged briefly before parting, Monica calling, "I'll text you the location!" and Sam answering with "Sounds good!"

She rushed into her apartment and quickly flung off her clothes, having just a small struggle with the lingerie before it, too, joined the carpet.  She grabbed a black bra and a pair of clean underwear, throwing them on before opening her closet and pulling out the first thing she saw; a black wrap-around dress that was made of a light fabric and fell almost to her knees.  She quickly put it on and slipped on her dark grey flats, stopping suddenly when Bowser came trotting up to her, tail wagging.

"Aren't you supposed to be with Ms. Whipple, boy?" she asked, crouching to scratch under his chin.

He barked and led her to the kitchen, where she found a note on the counter that read:

'So sorry dear, I had to drop my little prince off this morning before heading out unexpectedly.  I won't be back until this evening I'm afraid.  Give him a kiss for me. - Ms. Whipple'.

"I guess I'll just have to come back at lunch time and take you out," Sam said down to her bright-eyed pup, "I'm sure Charles won't mind giving me a ride."

She could have sworn Bowser's grin grew when she mentioned the Welshman's name, bending to plant a kiss on her doggo's head before grabbing her bag and heading out.  Charles was pulling up just as she exited the main doors, handing her a coffee cup as she sat in the passenger's seat.

"I opted for caramel today," he smiled as he also passed over a small paper bag, "And a lemon poppyseed muffin."

"You sure know the way to my heart," she joked.

"With coffee and baked goods...I should have known," he rolled his eyes lightheartedly before driving them off toward Young Technologies.

As they rode, they sipped their coffees and Sam ate her muffin, pausing halfway to ask, "Oh, Charles, c-could I ask you to give me a ride to my place on our lunch break?  Ms. Whipple left a note that she couldn't take Bowser out today."

"Well, if it's for Bowser then absolutely," he grinned.

"And if it were for me?" she asked sweetly, batting her eyelashes at him.

"Debatable," replied Charles, unable to completely hold back a smirk as she scoffed at him.

After parking, they walked in through the main door of Young Technologies, splitting off to their respective offices, each having their own tasks.

At around 10:30, Sam heard Lucy call her name from the reception area.  She poked her head out to see a familiar-looking delivery man talking to the redhead by the entrance.  Sam walked over and saw the postman's eyes widen on recognizing her; she realized that she'd never actually found out what Charles had said to the delivery company.  Speak of the devil, she could see a hint of blond hair as the Welshman peeked out from the kitchen, watching the proceedings with a sly smile.

"I-I'm so s-sorry for last time," the delivery man stammered nervously.

"Don't worry about it," Sam replied, waving a hand dismissively, "It's not a big deal, really."

"Thank you, ma'am," he smiled shyly then handed her a large, flat white box tied with a gauzy, deep violet bow.

"I...this is for me?" she asked, taking the package.

"So long as you're Miss Samara Young," he responded, holding out a tablet for her signature.

She signed it and then placed the box on Lucy's desk, gently untying the bow and shifting the material aside as the redhead peered over her shoulder.  Sam opened the box and saw that the inside was lined with black tissue paper, and in the middle sat a note bearing familiar handwriting next to a scrap of white lace.  When Sam realized what it was, she immediately closed the box, cheeks flaming as she squeaked out a "Thanks!" before practically running back to her office, not missing a certain someone's deep chuckle of amusement.  She closed the door behind her and sat at her desk, fully taking the lid from the packaging in her hands, and pulling out the note.  It read:

'Bunty, I believe I owed you a new pair.  Though I daresay it won't be long before I rip these off of you either.' 

Charles hadn't signed it, but she knew it was from him; his cursive unmistakable.  She took the panties between her fingers and held them up.  They were a combination of white lace and sheer material, with a set of ribbon laces running up the back, not really providing much rear cover.  As revealing as they were, though, she found she quite liked them, especially since Charles had picked them out.  She wrapped them up in a piece of the tissue paper and placed it into her bag, tucking his note into her wallet; for safekeeping.  She decided she would let him have it at lunch for having those delivered to the office, in front of people, clearly out to make her blush.  She tried to quell the warm sensation in her chest, still, at precisely how much she appreciated his style, his presentation, him.  She set about trying to distract herself with emails until noon came creeping up.  She picked up her bag and headed for Charles' office, seeing him step out as she approached.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Yup," she nodded, ignoring the widely grinning face of Lucy as they walked past her to the elevator, "Thank you for doing this."

"Anything for my tiny Welsh compatriot," he grinned as they stepped on and rode down to the garage.

"I got an interesting package today," she raised an eyebrow at him as he opened the car door for her and she took her seat.

"Is that so?" he asked nonchalantly in reply, closing the door then getting into the driver's side.

"It had something a bit risqué inside, I think Lucy saw," her cheeks reddened minutely.

"And what did you think of the contents?" his voice was low as he pulled the car into drive, leaving the garage.

"I love them," she answered, poking her finger into his shoulder, "And don't you dare rip these ones." 

"No promises," he smirked.

They were soon at her apartment building, Charles accompanying her up to her place; she was certain it was so he could see Bowser.  He actually volunteered to take his new best friend for a quick walk around the block while Sam prepared sandwiches, she grinning as she watched her boys go.  They were back within 15 minutes, Bowser panting happily as he moved to lick Sam's ankle before zooming to her bedroom, likely for a nap.  Sam jumped when she suddenly felt Charles' hands on her hips, his groin pressing against her backside.

"W-we only have like 15 m-minutes," she exclaimed, her protest overshadowed by her grinding back against him.

"Then we'll have to be quick, won't we," he murmured, stepping back from her.

He pulled one of the kitchen bar seats out and braced the back of it against the wall.  He sat on it, facing her, and crooked his finger in a 'come hither' motion.  She moved toward him, pausing to pull the tissue paper bundle from her bag, extracting the white lace panties.

"D-Did you want me to put these on?" she asked, voice breathy.

"No," he stated, plucking the material from her fingers before depositing it on the counter and pulling her toward him so she stood between his legs, whispering, "At least, not yet."

His lips met hers and she felt a heat spreading from the contact all the way down to her core, marveling at how quickly he could get her underwear to dampen.  Her fingers buried themselves in his hair and pulled him to her, deepening the kiss.  His hands gripped her ass, bringing her as close to him as he possibly could before sliding one of them between her legs, his fingers finding her clit.  Mindful of the time, he only spent a few moments working up her sensitive flesh before releasing her, guiding her to step back from him.  She complied, and he brought his legs together, hands seeking her out again. 

She took the opportunity to trace her fingers over the obvious bulge in his trousers, enjoying the jolt of his hips when she did so.  She unfastened his pants and reached in to stroke him before gripping his length and pulling him free.  She drew her hand up and down his shaft a few times before he stopped her, placing a condom he'd seemingly pulled from nowhere into her hand.  She carefully opened the packet and deliberately slid the protective sheath over him, his eyes glued to her movements.  Before she could go back to stroking him again, he gently spun her so she was facing away from him.  She inhaled in surprise as he gripped her waist and lifted her up onto his lap, her legs splayed on either side of him.  She braced the balls of her feet on the support bars of the chair, her palms planted on his thighs as he began kissing the back of her neck, simply holding her against him.  The position made it very easy for him to go back to rubbing her clit, feeling her tremble as he nipped at the skin her dress allowed to be exposed.

"Charles, please," she exhaled, needing to feel him inside of her.

He gripped the curve of her rear cheeks and lifted her, pleased when she held her position as his fingers grasped the side of the underwear she was currently wearing.

"Wait-" she breathed, but he'd already ripped them clean from her, dropping them to the floor.  Her exasperated sigh became more of a breathy moan when his fingers slid along her folds, "W-was that really n-necessaryyy?"

"Perhaps you shouldn't wear such flimsy underthings," he scolded teasingly, "Then they wouldn't come apart quite so easily."

She decided then the only way to retaliate would be to take control.  She pushed her feet against the chair bars, leveraging herself up further, then reached down between her legs to align his length with her entrance.  Without any warning, she slid down, letting gravity bring the backs of her thighs to meet with the tops of his as he moaned and she whimpered.  The position they were in allowed for him to fit deeply, and she was enjoying the sensation.  She experimentally swiveled her hips in a circle, feeling him hit just about every spot inside of her as she did so, relishing it.  The way his fingernails dug into the sides of her thighs told her that he felt rather the same.  After a few more circular motions, she pushed herself upward until he was almost fully out before sliding back down onto him.  With one hand, he helped guide her as she set a good pace, her leg muscles straining, while the fingers of his other hand swiped rapidly across her clit.  She gripped his thighs hard, pushing off of them with her hands as she picked up her speed, his fingers matching the tempo.  

"Fuck, Samara," he groaned, taking in the sight of her bouncing up and down on his cock, her half-lidded eyes looking back at him over her shoulder.

"I-I'm close," she moaned in response, her hips starting to bottom out sharply as an inner instinct took control of her movements.

She drove down again, again, and then, "Charles! Oh fuck!" as she came hard, her spasming muscles taking him over with her, a loud groaned iteration of her name spilling from him.  He held her against his chest while she turned her head so their lips could meet.  After a few languid kisses, she eased herself up off of him and he helped her to the floor.  He took the condom off and she held out her hand for it, wrapping it into the destroyed panties she'd picked up from the floor before tossing both in the garbage.

"I kind of liked those ones," she grumbled, coming back to stand in front of him.

"I do believe I warned you," he replied cheekily, stepping off the chair and snagging the white panties from the counter, "That I would owe you many."

He crouched down so he was at floor level, holding out the white lacy garment for her to step into.  She did so, placing a hand on his shoulder for support, inhaling deeply as he slowly slid the underwear up her legs, intermittently pressing his lips to her skin as he did so.  On bringing it to its destination, he paused, his hands spanning across her hip bones.  He leaned forward and placed a kiss on her lace-covered clit before standing, tugging her dress to sit properly.

"It appears we will be late returning from lunch," he murmured, lightly kissing her forehead.

"I'm sure Lucy will have something to say about that," groaned Sam, moving to grab her bag and the sandwiches she'd made that were still sitting on the counter, "Can you eat and drive?"

"I think you'll find I'm quite skilled at multitasking," he grinned devilishly, laughing as she rolled her eyes. 

They both said goodbye to Bowser and made their way down to Charles' car, the ride back to Young Technologies one filled with laughter and chicken salad.

When the day drew to a close, Charles met up with Sam in the foyer of the main office.  Most others had left already, save for a few programmers who were busy number crunching.

"I have fencing lessons again tonight, but can I give you a lift home?" Charles asked as they rode the elevator down to his car.

"Oh! Actually I'm meeting with Monica for a manicure.  The salon might be a bit out of your way though, so I can just take the b-"

Her suggestion was halted by Charles' finger on her lips, a stoniness in his gaze that told her exactly how he felt about that idea, as he ran the pad of his finger along her bottom lip.

They were alone on the elevator, and he was unable to stop himself from leaning forward and replacing his finger with his lips, their embrace sweet.

"Do you have the address?" he asked as he pulled back.

"Here," she nodded, pulling up the text from Monica on her phone.

"It's actually not too far from the fencing club," he said thoughtfully, the doors pinging open behind him.

"Y'know," said Sam shyly as they stepped off into the garage, "I still haven't seen you fence."

"Perhaps you should join me one evening," he smiled, genuinely touched by her interest, "I do have a couple of lessons tomorrow night, and maybe I could teach you a few things afterward."

"Ahh I have a raid with The Rare Spawns though," Sam sighed.

"Oh that's right, it's Friday tomorrow," he replied, "Another time, then."

He drove her to the salon, both of them seeing Monica waiting just outside in the light of the early evening sun.  Sam waved through the windshield to her friend before turning to give Charles a goodbye kiss, unwarranted or not, but was surprised when he beat her to it.  She closed her eyes as his lips lingered on hers, deciding to keep her smart comments about it to herself.

"I'll speak with you later," his voice was hushed, but certain.

"Okay," she smiled in return, reaching up to smoothen a wayward piece of his hair.

She got out and waved at him before walking over to join Monica, who greeted her with a hug, hearing the sound of Charles driving off.

"Oooooh goodbye kisses? How sweet," Monica teased as they entered the nail salon called 'Nailed It'.

"Just a small one," Sam blushed.

They signed in at the front and went to pick colours for their nails; Sam opting for a muted purple, and Monica going for a blue to match her cerulean eyes.  They were seated at manicure stations beside each other, and greeted their nail tech's before turning to talk to one another while their hands were worked on.

"So, tell me the tale of the lingerie," Monica waggled her eyebrows.

Sam blushed fiercely, but proceeded to tell Monica about the office...and then his place with the ties...and then the strawberries...and then in her kitchen, making sure to censor things as she embarrassedly looked numerous times toward the man and woman currently massaging their hands.

"Wow, Sam, if I had known lingerie would spark all that, I would have given it to you way sooner," Monica teased, "Seriously, good for you girl."

"Thanks," Sam smiled, "I...I really got to know more about him last night too."

"And how do we feel about that?" prompted Monica.

"...Happy," smiled Sam genuinely, "I feel a bit deeper for him than I have for...well anyone I think."

"Dare I say, it must be loooo-"

"No!" declared a flustered Sam, clapping her non-occupied hand over her mouth at her outburst.

"Kiddo doth protest too much," Monica laughed.

"H-he's made it pretty clear he's not l-looking for that," Sam looked down to where her nail tech was pushing back her cuticles.

"Those might be his words," Monica's voice was soft and heartfelt, drawing Sam's attention to her, "But I think maybe he doesn't fully believe them.  I saw how he looked at you."

"Hmm," Sam hummed noncommittally.

"I know," Monica's grin had Sam feeling a bit nervous, "Why don't we do a girls' night out with Angela and Vikki this weekend and they can weigh in! Maybe we could get dressed up and go to a fancy restaurant?"

"Girls' night does sound fun," smiled Sam.

"Then it's settled," Monica nodded, "I'll text the other ladies as soon as our nails are done."

"I'm glad you guys are on a texting basis," Sam replied genuinely.

"They're great," Monica agreed, "And I wouldn't have met them if not for you, Sam."

Sam blushed, "All I did was introduce you."

"And now I have two more good friends," Monica's voice shook slightly, and Sam looked to see that her eyes were shining, "As a Viewtuber, I don't tend to make friends, especially female ones, all that easily.  They're usually just trying to get on one of my videos, or post a photo with me, or whatever.  But Vikki and Ange, they've watched my videos and they've been nothing but supportive...Ange has even threatened to chase down the trolls commenting on my channel and shove her battle axe replica up their-"

Sam laughed, and said, "That sounds like Angela."

"I treasure all three of you," Monica was back to sappy.

"We treasure you too," Sam smiled, wanting to reach out and hug her friend, but the large amount of moisturizing lotion on her hands stopped her.

"You're going to make me tear up, Kiddo," Monica sniffed jokingly.

"W-well why don't you tell me about where you were coming from when I saw you this morning," Sam raised an eyebrow.

"Heh," Monica blushed, "I'd had another date with Mar-...Ben."

"Did you get past second base?" Sam was the eyebrow waggler this time.

"I'd say so," Monica smiled dreamily, recounting the details of her evening.

Monica had gone over to Ben's place, and he had cooked dinner for the both of them; an amazing beef stirfry.  They'd sat and talked for hours about their pasts, getting to know each other on a deeper level than they really ever had.  He had asked her to stay, and she'd said yes.  Initially, they'd only planned to sleep, but Ben's fingers had begun wandering, soon working Monica up into a quivering mess...and that was only using one hand.  She'd gone to return the favor, but he'd stopped her, holding her wrists as he'd gazed into her eyes, saying

"I want...I need tonight to be for you."  She'd merely nodded, the intensity in his voice convincing her to let him take the lead.  He'd moved then, positioning himself between her legs, using his tongue, lips, and teeth to have her reaching orgasm within minutes.  She'd looked down across her body at him, his eyes watching hers as he spoke, voice deep and velvety, "I don't know if I can express myself properly with words, so I'm going to show you."

Monica had nodded as his fingers had found her clit, mesmerized by his lips as he continued, "I'm going to make you come for every time I've made you feel any less than the amazing woman you are, because you never deserved that, and I need to show you just how special you are to me."

"Needless to say, I didn't get much sleep," Monica chuckled, noticing the reddened cheeks of their manicurists; she'd never been one to censor herself.

"Wow," breathed Sam, "All you?"

"All me," she exhaled, "I mean, he wouldn't even let me sixty-nine him, he must have really meant it."

"...S-sixty-nine?"

Monica froze, blinking several times before looking at Sam, her voice practically a whisper, "You don't know about sixty-nining?"

Sam shook her head and Monica gleefully began to educate her on the technique, watching Sam's eyes grow wider and wider.

"You've already sat on his face," commented Monica, either not noticing or ignoring (or enjoying) the tomato red colour to Sam's cheeks, "It's pretty much the same, just turned around, and you get to help him out too."

"I..." Sam was speechless.

"So did you enjoy being tied to the bed?" asked Monica, voice low.

"...Y-yes," Sam didn't think her cheeks could get any redder, but there they were.

"Because it can be just as fun to turn the tables," the pink-haired vixen's tone was devious.

"You mean, tie him up?" Sam was more than a little curious.

"Oh yeah, there's something fun about having your way with someone like that," Monica tapped her chin thoughtfully.

"O-okay," replied Sam, feeling like she should be taking notes, "What else should I do when he's tied up?"

"Honestly? Just explore.  You'd have the time and the landscape right in front of you, have some fun!  And y'know, a little heat, or sometimes cold, can really amp things up."

Sam continued asking Monica for tips, growing to like the image of Charles being the one tied as her mind began to form it.  All too soon, their nails were finished and dried.  Monica insisted on paying for Sam's manicure, no matter how much the brunette protested, leaving a generous tip for the staff, knowing their conversation had gotten a little R-rated. 

Monica's phone dinged as they walked out, a huge grin on her face as she read the newly received text, "Vikki and Angela are in for girls' night on Saturday."

"Can't wait," smiled Sam.

"Are you alright to get home on your own, kiddo?" Monica asked, "I have to meet with a potential collaborator."

"Oh yeah, I can take the bus," Sam nodded.

"Okay," Monica replied, "I'll see you this weekend then!" she hugged Sam before heading off.

Sam went to wait by the bus stop, thinking of how frustrated Charles would be if he knew.  She momentarily debated with herself on sending him a picture of the bus shelter, but ultimately decided against it since he'd driven her around so much that day.  Instead, she took a photo of her nails with the salon in the background, biting her lip shyly as she sent it to him.  It wasn't until later that evening, after she'd walked Bowser, had something to eat, and done some material farming in World of Warquest, that she received his response, her face lighting up as she read it.

'The colour suits you, Bunty, though I much prefer it when your face is in the photo.'

Sam grinned and took a selfie with Bowser, her pooch smiling widely at the camera.  She sent it off to Charles with the caption, 'Is this better?'

He replied almost immediately, 'Indeed.  My two favourite people.'

Sam stared at his words, mind racing as she voiced her thoughts aloud, "I...I'm his favourite?"  She barely had time to process before another message came in, 'I've got one more lesson, I'll call you when I'm home.'

She grinned and placed the phone down on her desk, humming happily as she continued her questing.

Charles was exhausted by the time he got home, dropping his duffel bag in the living room and dragging himself up his stairs.  He had the quickest shower he could manage, then fell into bed, bringing his suddenly heavy arm up to call Sam.

"Hey," she answered on the first ring, her voice warm.

"Hello, Bunty," he rubbed his hand over his face.

"You sound exhausted," her tone was one of concern.

"I am," he admitted, "I won't be awake much longer, I think."

"Go to sleep!" she scolded, "We can talk more tomorrow."

"Mmmf course," he murmured, already feeling his eyelids drooping shut.

"Goodnight, Charles, sleep well."

Charles neither heard her nor answered, as he was already fast asleep.  Sam laughed and hung up on her end, letting him be.

Chapter Text

Music suggestion: At the words "Set on the bed tonight, are we?" https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6ylDDs3mdJE&ab_channel=mkbf86

Per what was becoming a comfortably heartwarming routine for Sam, Charles had picked her up and driven her to work, both talking and sipping their coffees.

"You sounded pretty tired last night," Sam smiled.

"I was," nodded Charles, "But there aren’t as many lessons tonight.  I believe the second one ends at 9 o'clock."

"That seems so late!" 

"I've had them end at midnight before," Charles shrugged.

"You must really enjoy it," Sam's voice softened.

"I...I truly do, actually," Charles blushed, "It's a way of still being able to fence without having to deal with the pressure of high expectations."

"Well maybe next week I can come by and check you out," Sam suddenly realized what she'd said, "It! Check it out."

"Well," Charles smirked, "It certainly does enjoy being checked out by you, thoroughly."

Sam blushed, but responded with, "The feeling is mutual."

Charles wasn't sure he'd ever experienced becoming erect while laughing before, but there was a first time for everything. 

"It's too bad I couldn't come tonight," Sam said wistfully.

"There will be plenty of time after the fencing lessons," Charles' voice was deeply suggestive, turning to wink at her.

"Does that mean you'll come over afterward?" she teased, poking him in the shoulder.

"If you'll have me," he said sincerely.

"I'll have you any way you want," she replied slyly.

"Noted," he grinned deviously.

They pulled into the parking lot and the instant Charles hit the button to power off the car, Sam's lips were on his.

"My, eager today aren't we, Bunty?" he teased, his hand cupping her jaw as he returned the kiss.

He tried to lean back, but she'd gripped his tie and was using it to hold him close.

"I'm not done with you yet," she breathed, her hand sliding down his chest and over the sizeable bulge in his pants.

"S-Samara," his voice hitched as she undid his fly - she had become quite adept at it, "I'm not c-completely against some exhibitionism, b-but-hah," he was cut off as she'd pulled his length out into the open, giving it a smooth firm stroke.

"Didn't you get the memo?" she asked slyly, unbuckling her seatbelt and lowering her head toward his lap, "It's inspection day, and I do need to be thorough."

Charles ran a hand through his hair, quickly scanning their surroundings, seeing no one else around as he replied, "It's just-oh fy nuw!" 

She'd engulfed the head of his cock within her mouth, taking him by surprise.  He looked downward and watched as she brought as much of him inside of her as she could, cheeks hollowed inward and tongue sliding against his shaft.

"Samara," he moaned as she swallowed around him.

His head thumped against the back of the headrest when she somehow managed to swallow him just a little bit deeper, then applying suction as she raised her head up.  At the end of her trajectory, she swirled her tongue over his tip and went right back down, building up the rhythm to which they'd both come to beat.  She brought her hand to the base of his length as she continued bobbing up and down, wrapping it around his circumference, and varying her pressure and direction.

"Samara, I won't last long," he almost whispered.

The comment seemed to spur her on, doubling her efforts and bringing him closer to the edge he already walked along.  He quickly attempted to make his face neutral, a slight shiver running through him as Lucy waved to him from across the garage.  He managed a meek return gesture before she headed for the elevator.  That, combined with Sam’s mouth plunging downward and the rubbing motions of her hand, had him tugging lightly on her hair as he stammered, "I-I'm going to..."  She took it as a signal to move faster, deeper, feeling him tense before a liquid warmth hit the back of her throat.  Her eyes watered, but she swallowed his release as he tremored beneath her touch, angling her head so she could watch him climax.  She gave him a few long, slow licks along his cock before clearing her throat a few times and tucking him back into his trousers, his eyes glazed as he watched her movements.  He brought his hand to her cheek, and she turned slightly to kiss his thumb.  She undid his seatbelt - he hadn't realized it was still on, having been so distracted - and moved to get out of the car.  She stopped fast when he gripped her forearm, eyes full of an expression she had a hard time deciphering.

"What about you?" he asked, his hand smoothing along her forearm.

"Let this time be about you," Sam grasped Charles' fingers and brought them to her lips, "You always make it about me."

She heard him breathe deeply as she closed her eyes and pressed her cheek to his knuckles, savoring the moment.  His gaze was glued to the look of affection on her face, an odd feeling inside of him as his heart slowly convinced his brain that this expression was for him.  They both started at the sound of a nearby car lock, and Sam squeezed his hand before letting it go so she could exit the vehicle.  They walked over to the elevator in relative silence as others got on with them, but in the little to no room left by the amount of people packed inside, no one but Sam and Charles noticed when their fingers interlaced in the small space between their bodies.  They held this until the elevator doors opened onto their floor and they, along with several others, walked out.

"Morning Cham and Sarles!" Lucy grinned as they walked in, garnering expressions of confusion from both.

"Oops!" she giggled, "I meant Charm and Sals."

"Pardon me?" both of Charles' eyebrows were raised.

"You know what I mean," shrugged Lucy.

"Are...are you alright?" asked Sam.

"Have you been drinking?" Charles queried.

"Only coffeeeee and loooots of it," Lucy answered excitedly then winked, "I was up pretty late."

"Ugh," Charles rolled his eyes, though his mouth held the hint of a smile as he walked onward to his office.

"McNally?" Sam whispered.

"Those Scots sure do know their way around a dame," Lucy sighed.

Sam shook her head amusedly and made for her desk, setting about working further on the policy documents she and Charles had started for the Indigineer takeover.

Charles had just finished up a call with a client when his cell phone started ringing.  A number that was slowly becoming more familiar - hating that he could recognize it - flashed across the screen.  He stared as it rang, a small part of him contemplating answering and telling Griffiths to fuck off, but the rest of him railing against the idea.  In the end, he exercised his ever-present self-restraint and hung up just before it could go to voicemail.  He tossed the phone on his desk, leaning back in his chair with his hand over his mouth in thought.  He continued staring into space, bidding entry to whoever was currently knocking on his door.  Umed walked in holding some papers, closing the door behind him.  He noted Charles was lost in thought and walked forward, waving a hand in front of the Welshman's face.

"Ground Control to Major Towhead," he joked, Charles' eyes focussing on him.

"My apologies, Umed, I was elsewhere," Charles smiled absently.

"I can see that," Umed nodded as he perched on the edge of Charles' desk, "Anything I can help with?"

"I-" Charles was cut off when his phone began buzzing, displaying the same number from previously.

Umed saw the expression on his friend's face, and had an idea of who it might be.  He picked up the phone and swiped the answer button, seeing Charles' eyes widen as he asked, "Hello, who is this?" in perfect Swedish.

"Umm...Charles?" came the response.

Umed yelled several Swedish curse words into the small device before hanging up then blocking the number.  Charles stared at him, astounded, before a small laugh bubbled up from within him.  Umed chuckled in response and soon, they were both full out cracking up.  Charles took a breath as he wiped a tear from his eye, expression growing a bit more somber as he said, "How did you know that wasn't a client?"

"I could see it in your eyes, my guy," Umed replied.

"Where did you learn Swedish?" Charles was trying to avoid the topic at hand.

Umed was having none of it, "The DaLingo app.  Is it who I think it was on the other end of that call?"

Charles sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair, "He's texted me a few times already, today was his first time calling."

"What does he want?"

"He says he's in America and wishes to speak with me," Charles' words were laden with disdain.

"...I can probably get him deported," Umed commented nonchalantly.

Charles let out a genuine laugh before smiling at Umed, "I appreciate that."

"You just say the word and it's done," Umed mimicked slicing his finger across his neck.

"...You're serious, aren't you?" Charles raised an eyebrow at him.

"I have mad connections," Umed smirked, then moved to leave the office.

"I don't doubt that," nodded Charles, "Hang on, was there something you came in here for?"

"It can wait," replied Umed, "I think maybe you should go for a coffee break first."

Charles just stared at him oddly, causing Umed to roll his eyes and sharply gesture in the direction of Sam's office, "A coffee break with someone? Who isn't me? And has brown hair and glasses?"

"Alright I get it," Charles held up a palm in defeat, walking toward the door behind Umed, "You're awfully bossy."

"The perks of being my friend," smiled Umed before he went back to his computer.

"Indeed," Charles responded after him, unable to quell a grin.

He walked over to Sam's door and knocked, hearing a faint "Come in," through the thick oak wood.  He entered the room, making sure to close the door behind him before striding around Sam's desk.  She stood as he approached, and he pulled her into a kiss, his hands buried in her hair.  She returned it, her palms resting on his chest as she fell into his embrace.  After a moment, he leaned back, his eyes searching her face, not entirely sure what he was looking for.

"Are you alright, Charles?" she asked softly, reaching up to gently cup his jaw.

He leaned into her touch briefly before answering, "Would you care to accompany me on a coffee break?"

"...In the kitchen?"

"No," he smiled, "There are a few decent cafes nearby and I...could do with getting out of the office."

"O-okay," replied Sam uncertainly, "Did something happen?"

"I'll explain over coffee," he replied reassuringly as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

Sam murmured, "Let's get out of here," before placing a light kiss on his lips and grabbing her bag.

Once they'd walked a fair distance away from Young Technologies, Sam interlaced her fingers with Charles', feeling his squeeze gently in return.  They held this all the way down the sidewalk, whilst checking out the different java joints.

"This place actually makes a fairly exceptional brew," Charles nodded toward an elegant looking cafe, its entire colour scheme in black and white, with the name 'Cafe Noir'.

"It's beautiful," Sam nodded as she led him by the hand toward the door.

"Good morning," greeted one of the servers with a large grin.  

Sam had to allow a second for her eyes to adjust to both him and the interior of the establishment.  Everything was done in grayscale, including makeup on the staff, and it felt like she had stepped into a black and white movie.  The only colour in the entire room was found in the books shelved on an entire wall of bookcases.

"This...this is my kind of place," Sam breathed, "How did I not know about this?"

"We're a little bit tucked away," nodded the server with a wink, "But we certainly love word of mouth."

"As do I," Charles murmured in her ear, voice low.

Sam shivered, then asked excitedly, "Can we sit near the bookcases?"

"Anywhere you want," the server bowed slightly.

They slid into some overstuffed armchairs by the books, a fake fireplace crackling merrily nearby.  The server, who introduced himself as Tim, handed them each a menu.  Sam opted for a lavender tea latte, while Charles chose a buttered rum one.  They also asked for an assortment of the miniature baked goods to go with their drinks.  Once Tim returned with their lattes and treats, they settled down comfortably into the chairs.  Sam eyed Charles over the rim of her mug as she sipped the delicious beverage, some of the lavender scented milk foam sticking to her lip.  Charles' eyes met hers as he put his mug on the table between them, letting out a deep sigh before saying "Griffiths called."

"What?!" spluttered Sam, spilling a bit of tea onto her leg, "Today?"

"Yes," nodded Charles as he grabbed a napkin and dabbed at the liquid on her skirt.

"What did he say?"

"I...wasn't the one to speak with him actually," Charles chuckled lightly.

"What do you mean?" Sam furrowed her brows in confusion.

Charles recounted the conversation Umed had had with Griffiths, enjoying seeing Sam's smile.

"Umed does like messing with people," laughed Sam.

"A right prankster," agreed Charles.

"A real Cachwr," added Sam. 

Charles instantly burst out laughing and Sam looked at him with her eyebrows raised, "What, did I not say it right?"

"No, you did," he got out between recovering breaths, "I just lo-" he froze, eyes widening at a certain word trying to speak itself into existence.  Luckily, Sam had been focussing on the cookie selection so hadn't seen his expression, "I-I mean, I just wasn't expecting it, that's all."

"I'm just glad I didn't butcher it," she stated, biting into a piece of biscotti.

"Well, I didn't exactly say that," he teased.

"Now who's being a Cachwr," she retorted, intentionally pronouncing it horribly.

Charles parted his lips to respond, but found himself unable to answer when Sam shoved a cookie into his mouth.  He raised an eyebrow at her as he chewed thoughtfully before saying "Absolutely delicious," then a wicked grin spread over his face, "And do I detect a hint of strawberry?"

Sam bit her lip and blushed, "I think it m-might be my new favourite fruit."

They both fell quiet for a moment, then Sam asked, "Are you going to talk to Griffiths? He'll probably keep calling until you do."

"I...am undecided," replied Charles, "I would prefer to never hear his voice again, but I fear that you may be right."

"At least think on it," Sam nodded, watching several emotions flash through his ocean blue eyes, noting how much more expressive he'd become around her.

"I shall," he said, voice quiet.

Sam stood to brush the biscotti crumbs off of her skirt, slightly surprised when Charles reached a hand out to her.  She took it, letting him tug her forward until she was standing between his legs.  She reached forward and carded her fingers through his soft blond tresses, fingernails lightly scratching along his scalp.  Charles hummed and leaned into her, wrapping his arms around her waist while his cheek pressed against her stomach.  Sam noted he'd been much more physically affectionate lately, though decided not to say anything in case he misinterpreted it as her not liking it; which was the exact opposite of how she felt.  They broke apart when Tim approached them with a take-out box and said, "Just in case you guys have any extras."

"Thank you," smiled Sam as she took the box and started filling it with the remaining baked goods.

Charles checked the time and then moved to help her, "We were here longer than I expected," he commented.

"Time flies when you're having fun," Sam replied.

"Time always seems to fly by with you," he whispered.

"Then I guess we're having fun," teased Sam.

"And much more," replied Charles cryptically, bending his head to press a chaste kiss to her lips.

On the walk back to work, Charles' hand seemed to find its way to the small of her back.  Sam grinned inwardly at the contact, her heart beating a little faster, immensely happy when it remained where it was right until they walked into the office building.

The rest of the day went by fairly quickly, and soon Charles was poking his head into Sam's office, asking, "Shall I drive you home?"

"If you insist," she sighed dramatically, collecting her things.

"I do," he grinned.

They walked out together, stealing a kiss in the elevator as they were alone, and then got into Charles' car.

"Are you excited for your raid this evening?" Charles asked as he pulled out of the garage.

"Very," grinned Sam, "I actually spent the last few weeks farming materials and with that, and winnings from other raids, I was able to get some top-of-the-line armor for tonight!"

"I see," laughed Charles, "I admire your dedication."

"I know it probably seems silly, to be so excited about something that doesn't even exist in the real world..." Sam shrugged, looking out the window.

"Not silly," corrected Charles, "Endearing."

"Well so is teaching kids how to fence, and way more admirable," Sam looked over to him.

"Agree to disagree," Charles said teasingly, though Sam could hear the whisper of self-deprecation beneath his words.

"Charles, I have nothing but admiration for you," Sam replied sincerely.

A blush rose on Charles' cheeks as he cleared his throat, unable to speak as Sam continued, "And...I remember you once saying that I m-make you have faith that there are good people in this world, and the weight of that...I sometimes feel I can't live up to it.  But then I remember that y-you...,” she took a deep breath, “You make me strong, you make me certain, you make me believe, and you make me feel at home, and...and the doubt and anxiety seem to melt away."

Charles was silent as he pulled up to the curb outside Sam's building, undoing his seatbelt before turning to face her.  He took her head in his hands and pressed a kiss to her forehead, each cheek, her nose, and then her lips, pulling back to press his forehead to hers, "Thank you, Samara.  It seems every day you reinforce my faith in you, my sentiments on your being such a good person, and that you would never betray those close to you."

Sam ran a hand down the side of his face, knowing exactly what his words were driving at, "Never," she practically whispered.

They held each other for a moment, before Charles suddenly felt a little too open, a little too defenseless, a little too weak, and pulled back, "Well, now, my sappiness is keeping you from preparing for your raid."

Sam exhaled, knowing he was closing himself off again.  She had caught a glimpse of something in that moment they'd shared; something that struck a chord deep within her, leaving a sensation she couldn't shake, reverberating through her.

"That would be true, if you were planning to be sappy for another few hours," she quipped.

"There's the sass I've come to appreciate," he teased, pushing just a step farther, "Particularly in the bedroom."

Sam's cheeks reddened as she responded with, "A-and against the wall, on the furniture, the table..."

"In the car," he added, voice deepening.

"Was this morning not enough for you?" she replied suggestively, leaning forward.

"I believe I've said it before," his baritone seemed to surround her, "I can never get enough of you."

"Ditto," she smirked, closing the gap between them with a searing kiss.  

He returned it, nipping her bottom lip, his tongue finding her own.  Just as his hand was starting to slide downward, Sam pulled back and kissed him on the nose, "You'd better go or you'll be late for fencing lessons," she stated.

"You absolute tease," he growled in return.

"You're one to talk," she raised her eyebrow at him.

He smirked and kissed her once more before sitting back in his seat.  Sam opened her door and stepped out, ducking her head in to say, "Have fun with the miscreants tonight!"

"I shall try my hardest," Charles smiled at her, "Enjoy the raid, I will call you later."

"Okay," nodded Sam, "And here's hoping my armor is as good at deflection as you are."

She closed the door and blew a kiss to him, giggling at the stricken look on his face.  She walked into her building before turning to wave him off, then took a fast pace to her apartment.  She had just enough time to walk Bowser, eat something, and get into comfy clothes before the raid started.

A few hours later, Sam sat at her computer, ready to go.  She logged in to World of Warquest and started chatting with her friends as they waited for the raid to start.  Suddenly, with only seconds to go, the entire game window closed itself down, leaving Sam a tad confused.

"Did it crash?" she asked aloud, Bowser looking up at her concernedly as she attempted to re-open the game.

The log-in screen popped up once more, but it cited connection problems and wouldn't allow her back in.  She picked up her phone, intent on texting the other Rare Spawns, when she received a WutApp notification.  She tapped it and found a message from Abe to everyone, 'Hey guys, looks like the servers are down for some reason, could be power outages or something.  I guess we'll re-group next week. Much love.'

Sam stared at the message and then checked the time.  She quickly realized that if she hurried, she could probably make it just in time for a lesson at a certain fencing club.

Charles wiped the sweat from his brow, his fencing mask tucked under his arm.  He had just finished his final lesson of the night, and was looking forward to a shower and some time spent with Sam.  He was about to unfasten his jacket, when Dominic, the manager, popped his head into the almost empty piste area and called out, "Charles, you have one more lesson."

"Dom, we've talked about springing these last-minute sessions on me," Charles sighed.

"I know," replied Dom, "But the client was pretty insistent."

"Fine," quipped Charles resignedly.

He lightly twirled his epee as he turned around, almost dropping the weapon when he saw Sam step up onto his strip, dressed in full fencing gear.

"Samara? What are you doing here? Not that I'm unhappy to see you, mind," he couldn't stop his eyes from roving over her body.

"I'm your next lesson," she smiled.

"But I thought you had the raid tonight?" he asked, walking up to her.

"The servers were down, so the raid was postponed," this time it was her eyes that dragged along his lithe form.

"I see, but what about your armor?"

"It looks fine," Sam stated, checking her fencing outfit over.

"No," laughed Charles, "I meant for the raid."

"I...should have known that," Sam blushed, then cleared her throat, "I can use it another time.  Besides, now I get to see you fence!"

"I do hope you realize what you're in for," Charles raised an eyebrow, leveling his epee toward her.

"Bring it on, my prince," she teased, affecting a mock curtsy.

Charles couldn't help the sensation that pulsed through him at the nickname, particularly one that shot straight to his groin.

"Well then, Bunty," he smiled mischievously, "Allons-y."

He started by teaching her some of the basic footwork, enough at least for a short match.  Charles was quite impressed when she picked it up relatively quickly, feeling a sense of pride.  He next taught her three principal moves; lunge, parry, and riposte.  When she demonstrated the lunge, he noticed that her stance was slightly off, so he moved to stand behind her.  His front lay flush against her back as he maneuvered her into the correct position, his hand over hers on the epee's grip.  

"When performing a lunge," his voice was low in her ear, "Be sure to keep your back leg planted, only your front leg should move."

He had wholeheartedly meant it as a teaching moment, but when he felt her shiver and unconsciously press back against him, he decided to take advantage of the situation, "You know, Samara, epee fencing is the only style where corps-a-corps is not considered an illegal move," he pressed himself against her backside to emphasize the word 'illegal'.

"Then I'm glad y-you chose epee," she responded breathily.

"Shall we try a bout?" he asked, hand sliding along her hip.

"I think you'll find I'm quite pret (*ready) for you to jab me with your sword."

She felt his arousal stir against her rear at her words, pushing slightly against him before stepping away, turning to smirk at him before donning her fencing mask.

"You might want to be careful about fighting dirty, Miss Young," he smirked in reply before pulling on his own mask.

"Actually, I think it's you who should be careful," she volleyed back, taking up the ready stance as Charles called out "En garde!"  He then asked "Pret?" his overactive mind supplying images of him taking Sam right there on the strip.

When he saw Sam nod in response, he called out "Allez!"

Charles bounced slightly in place, remaining anticipatory of Sam's moves.  Sam followed suit, deciding to try a blatant attack, lunging toward Charles.  He easily parried her thrust and knocked her weapon to the side.

"I never thought you to be so predictable, Bunty," he teased.

This time, Sam waited for him to make a play, wanting to see how he moved while actively fencing; strategy was her forte after all.  She baited him as well, "Maybe I'm just psyching you out."

Before she even finished her sentence, Charles lunged forward at lightning speed.  Sam had brought her epee up protectively on instinct, and somehow managed to parry his attack, drawing a surprised chuckle from the blond.

"And here I thought you were a beginner," his voice held a tone of challenge, "Perhaps I should stop going easy on you."

Sam took advantage of his banter, feinting to his left, then going for an attack on his right.  He anticipated this, however, and deflected her weapon, delivering a swift riposte that left the tip of his epee pressed against her shoulder.

"I believe the first point is mine," Charles commented smugly.

Sam scoffed and brought herself to the ready position, bouncing excitedly as she attempted another attack.  They went back and forth for a while, Charles racking up a few more points, though surprisingly fewer than he'd expected.  Sam was proving a worthy opponent and that, combined with seeing her doing something he loved to do, made him feel for her all that much stronger.  

"Do you really think you can score, Bunty?" he goaded her, dodging an attack.

"Just you wait and s-see what I have planned for you," she retorted a bit breathlessly, "I will most definitely be scoring tonight."

That comment, spoken in such a tone of voice, had him mildly distracted; enough so that when she pretended to feint to his right, he fell for it, moving to block his left side, but she was, in fact, going for his right.  The point of her sword landed on his upper chest, both standing still as they caught their breath.

"Clever," Charles nodded to her, then grew somewhat alarmed as he heard a light wheeze coming from her, "Samara, do you need your inhaler?"

She pulled off her mask and shook her head lightly, gulping in several deep breaths of fresh air, "No," she replied, "I just needed to get the mask off."

Charles kept a concerned eye on her, but returned to his flirty tone, "You were quite impressive tonight."

"I think I like fencing," she smiled, sparking a warm feeling in Charles.

"Do you want to go again?" he asked, a twinkle in his ocean blue eyes.

"Absolutely," she grinned, putting her mask back on.

After a few more bouts, Sam having landed a few more surprise attacks, the two parted ways to shower, then met up again in the club's foyer.

"That was a lot of fun," Sam smiled at Charles as he approached, duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

"I wholeheartedly agree," he smiled warmly, pressing a kiss to her temple, "Now I believe you mentioned having planned something for tonight?"

"I did," Sam smiled deviously, "Would you like to come over, Mister Jones?"

He turned his gaze on her, eyes intense as he replied, "I would love nothing more."

They walked briskly to his car and he drove them to Sam's place in record time, practically running up the stairs to her apartment.  As they entered, Bowser came bounding up to greet them, then seemingly disappeared off to somewhere.  Charles gripped Sam's hand and pulled her to him, their lips crashing together.  She deepened the kiss, but before he could shift his hands to less innocent places, Sam moved to walk toward the bedroom, pulling him along behind her.

"Set on the bed tonight, are we?" he asked, eyebrow raised in amusement.

"Maybe," she replied coyly.

She led him over to the side of the bed and gently pushed on his shoulders until he sat on the edge of the mattress.  He watched her hungrily, both surprised and incredibly aroused by her boldness and willingness to take control, as she stood in front of him and began to pull off her shirt, followed by her pants.  He reached up to unfasten her bra, but she gently grasped his fingers and set his hands back onto the bed on either side of him.  Charles raised an eyebrow at her and she bit her lower lip in response.  Sam reached behind her back and undid the clasp of her bra, letting it fall to the floor as she brought her arms to her sides.  She moved toward him and he leaned forward, lips pressing to the soft skin of her breast.  He left a trail of kisses as he circled to her nipple, taking it gently between his teeth and laving the firm peak with his tongue before releasing it with a suck. 

Sam shivered and tilted her head back as she turned her upper body until her other breast was in front of his mouth, receiving the same attention.  She could see his fingers twitching against her duvet, itching to touch her, so she straddled his lap, gently pinning his hands with her knees.  She was sure she'd never seen his pupils so dilated, able to feel the hard bulge of his erection pulsating against the apex of her thighs through the thin cotton of her underwear.  She ground against him, leaning forward so their lips and tongues met.  The kiss was deep, so deep, she felt as though she could fall forever.  She lightly scraped her fingernails over the dress shirt he'd thrown back on after his shower, tracing lines down his chest.  She faltered at the bottom though as her mind whirred, thinking on what exactly to do next.  Charles sensed her trepidation and pulled back enough to press his forehead to hers, their eyes locked, "Tonight, Bunty, I am yours," he murmured, "Whatever you wish of me, you will have it."

Sam smiled genuinely at the absolute trust he placed in her, taking fistfuls of his shirt and pulling him back into a kiss no less passionate than the first.  She rolled her hips, dragging her long-engorged flesh over the tent in his trousers, the sensation passing right through the damp fabric barrier between them.  Her motions grew more frantic as their embrace grew more heated, her hands tugging his hair as she bit his lip.  He let out a moan and she reached between then, unzipping his pants and caressing his member before gently pulling it out where she could see it.  She stroked his shaft a few times, thumb swirling over the top and spreading the fluid seeping out with his anticipation. 

She could feel him trembling beneath her touch, reveling in the control she now had, especially considering how freely he'd given it to her.  She gave him a few more pumps before sliding off his legs and standing on the floor.  She reached up and slowly started undoing the buttons of his shirt, 'accidentally' brushing against his fully erect cock.  It took her more time than she would have liked to unfasten the first two buttons, her fingers were shaking from a mixture of arousal and mild nervousness at being in control.  She clenched her teeth as she came to a decision, gripping his shirt on either side of the centre and pulling hard.  The rest of the buttons flew off from the force of it, bouncing onto the floor as her eyes met Charles'.

"I supposed I deserved that," he breathed, taking in her blown-out pupils and flushed skin.

Sam smirked in return and slid his shirt over his shoulders, letting it fall to the bed.  She trailed her fingers along the skin of his torso until they reached his pants, gripping the hem and tugging.  Charles raised his hips, allowing her to pull the garments, boxer briefs included, down to the floor.  She removed them from around his feet, and pulled his socks off as well.  She took in the sight of him stark naked in front of her, while she still wore her panties.  Her gaze met his and her voice was breathy as she asked, "Can you lay down on the bed? N-near the headboard?"

His immediate compliance eased her mild uncertainty and she got up onto the bed, crawling after him as he positioned himself on his back, facing her.  She kneeled beside his hip and traced her fingers over his smooth alabaster skin, noting him flinch lightly when she did it along his flanks.

"Are...are you ticklish?" she asked, grinning as a memory momentarily flashed through her mind of her tickling him when she was drunk.

"If I say yes, will you use that against me?" he returned, eyeing her warily.

"Probably not," she smiled innocently.

He took that for what it was and waited for her next instruction, simply watching her explore his body.  Sam took a steadying breath, her confidence mounting as she phrased the next request in the form of a statement, rather than a query, "Hold your arms out to either side of the bed, toward the wall."

Charles did as she asked, curiosity evident amidst the arousal.  Sam reached into the drawer of her bedside table and pulled out three strips of navy silk - she'd gotten the material from Angela, a leftover from a cosplay costume.  Charles eyed her intently as she gently looped one strip of fabric around his left wrist, and secured it to one of the posts of her headboard.

"Is it too tight?" she asked.

"Not at all," he breathed.

She leaned up and pressed a kiss to the inside of his wrist before swinging a leg over his abdomen, straddling him while she secured his other arm.  She held the final tie between her fingers and leaned down to kiss him softly, running her tongue over his bottom lip.

"And where are you planning on putting that one?" he asked, eyebrow raised.

"You'll see," she giggled, "Or rather, you won't."

She brought the silk up to rest across his eyes and gently lifted his head, tying the material into a bow at the back of his head; effectively blindfolding him, "I heard that men don't always experience tactile sensations like women do, s-so I wanted to give that to you."

"I'm more than willing to receive," his voice was hushed.

Sam pressed her lips to his once more, then trailed kisses along his cheekbone, to his neck, across his throat, parallel to his collarbones; intermittently flicking her tongue out to taste him or using her teeth to tease him.  She hadn’t had a chance yet to really thoroughly explore him, and she was taking it now.  She made sure to hit as many spots as possible, mentally cataloguing what made him gasp or moan.  She particularly loved how his body would jolt whenever she moved to a new spot, especially a certain one in a more southerly region.  Eyes focused on his face, she dragged her tongue from the base of his shaft to the tip, feeling it twitch as she went.  She licked over and around his tip, never quite fully engulfing him with her mouth, despite knowing how desperately he wanted it.  She felt it was a good time to enact her next idea - inspired by something Monica had said - and she leaned forward to lay atop him, her lips resting beside his ear.

"I'll be right back," she whispered, noting how his head turned toward her, seeking out her voice.

She ran quickly to the kitchen and turned on the faucet, letting the water warm up while she pulled some ice cubes from the freezer and placed them in a cup.  She grabbed a glass, filling it with hot water, then took both with her back to the bedroom.  She placed them on the bedside table and slowly kissed her way upward from his left ankle to his neck.  She reached over and pulled one of the ice bits from the glass, being careful not to let it clink against the others and give away the surprise.  She placed it in her mouth, sucking on it for a few seconds before taking it in her fingers and leaning down to close her cool lips around Charles' nipple, enjoying his surprised "Hah!" when she swirled her cold tongue over it.  Goosebumps erupted across his skin, and Sam soothed them with her rapidly warming mouth.  She repeated the technique on his other nipple, able to feel him arching toward her.

"You seem to like this," she smiled, "My frost prince."

"I always enjoy your m-mouuuuth on my person," he replied, stuttering slightly as she traced a piece of ice along the side of his neck then followed it with her tongue.

She used her new-found trick on him a few more times, finished off the ice cube with a good suck, and then kissing him deeply, her cool tongue mingling with his warm one.  She drew back and reached for her second cup, taking a swig of the hot water and swishing it around her mouth.  She swallowed it and immediately brought her lips over the head of his member, feeling his hips jerk and a loud gasp escape him as she went down as far as she could.

"Fuck!" he exclaimed as she swallowed hard around him.

She sucked lightly as she raised her head upward, "So you like the heat too," she smirked before sliding her mouth back down.  After a few more bobs of her head, Sam released him with a soft 'pop' sound, his whimper of disappointment audible.  She quickly pulled off her damp panties and climbed up toward his head, kissing his lips before pivoting and carefully swinging her leg over so that she was straddling his face.

"I-I heard about this interesting number," she said breathily as she lowered herself to his mouth, gasping as his tongue found her clit almost instantly, despite not being able to see.

"It is a great one," he hummed against her folds, pushing his tongue inside of her as she leaned forward.

"Aah!" she moaned, glad she had her hands to support herself as he'd just rendered her knees weak.

As he moved his tongue over her in ways she didn't think biologically possible, Sam brought her mouth down to once again close over his member, working him with variations of sucking, licking, and swallowing.  He seemed to find his own pattern with lips, tongue, and teeth, and she could feel the heated coiling in her abdomen; especially spurred forward when he moaned against her.  Her rhythm against him became erratic as he lifted his head in order to reach deeper into her.  He seemed to find exactly the right spots as she felt herself launched unexpectedly into a climax, the cry of his name muffled by his cock in her mouth.  She released him from her lips, breathing heavily as she recovered, shaking as he delivered slow deliberate licks to her sensitive flesh.

"Hoo," she exhaled as she regained her composure, leaning over to continue working him.  Her movement, however, was halted by his words, desperation evident in his tone, "Samara, please, I need to be inside of you."

She was instantly wet again at his words and dismounted from his face, reaching to her bedside table for a condom.  She quickly ripped it open and rolled the latex over him before tossing the packaging away.  She moved to position herself atop him, his tip mere inches from her entrance.  Slowly, deliberately, she sank down onto him until her pelvis came to rest against his.  She gave herself a moment to adjust, then began gently swivelling her hips in a figure-eight pattern, feeling him hit every single angle.

"Samara," Charles moaned, his breath hitching as she changed directions.

"Yes?" she inquired teasingly, adding some forward motions to her newly mastered pattern.

"I would give anything to see you right now," his voice was hushed, but deep.

"Well I suppose you did do as I asked," she stated, reaching forward to untie his blindfold while continuing to move her lower half.

The silk fell from his face and his eyes roved from her head down to where they were joined, snapping back up to meet hers as she leveraged herself up, then dropped back down onto him.  She planted her palms on his chest and raised herself up once again, then back down to fully take him inside of her.

"Yesss," he exhaled, gaze unable to tear itself away from the way her breasts bounced as she rode him.

Sam began to feel a bit self-conscious knowing he could see her, her movements faltering slightly.

"You are so utterly stunning," he murmured, unable to keep the words from spilling out of him, "And I'm so utterly captivated."

With that admission, Sam felt something strong stir between them, not able to entirely pinpoint it.  She leaned forward to kiss him as she used her knees and rear muscles to continue pistoning up and down on his cock, breath coming in pants.  As she picked up her speed, his pubic bone rubbing deliciously against her clit, she buried her face into the crook of his neck, teeth sinking into his skin.  He could feel her getting close, and whispered, "Hold yourself up a bit, Bunty."

She complied, hands braced against the mattress, and Charles planted his feet, pumping his hips upward to thrust into her relentlessly as she struggled to hold her position.  It was only a matter of seconds before Sam's vision was overcome with the searing white heat of an orgasm, and only a few seconds beyond that, that Charles had his own, her name making itself heard with such reverence.  Sam propped herself up on his chest until her breathing slowed, then reached up to untie Charles' binds, pressing light kisses to the skin on the inside of his wrists.  Charles encircled her with his newly freed arms and held her to him, his nose pressed into her hair as he murmured, "Wanted a taste of control, did you?"

"I was curious," she nodded against his chest.

"I will say," his voice was low as his thumb stroked the skin of her shoulder, "I very much enjoyed it."

"Me too," she grinned up at him through her mess of brown hair.

Charles kissed her forehead, then reached down to remove the condom from himself, wrapping it into a tissue that Sam passed him.  She then moved to get up, but let out a small yelp when Charles pulled her back down to the bed so she was laying on her side, facing away from him.

"And where is it you think you're going?" his tone was dark and smooth, rolling across her skin as he spoke in her ear.

"I-I…well…" she was unable to formulate a response as he'd bit into the skin where her shoulder met her neck.

"We are not finished," he growled, grabbing another condom and applying it in one fell swoop.  He lay down behind her, the skin of his chest warm against her back.  He shifted one arm to rest beneath her head while with the other, he reached around her and began working her clit with his fingers, alternating between that and drawing them along and within her folds.

"Ah!" Sam cried, pressing her ass back against him, his shaft gliding between her cheeks.

Charles bent his head and lavished her neck with a mixture of kisses and nips, feeling Sam's fingers interlace with those of his arm he had beneath her head, he gripping hers in turn.  He received a sob of protest when he withdrew his hand from her core, lining himself up with her entrance before thrusting into her in one fluid motion.  His fingers returned to their previous occupation as he pistoned his hips, slowly withdrawing then pushing into her, his rhythm slow, but no less torturous.  Sam's grasp on his fingers tightened as she moved her own hips with him, both soon finding a corresponding coordination that had them hitting intense depths.  Sam turned her head to the side so that their lips could connect, needing the contact.  Charles doubled his efforts as he obliged her, pounding into her as she chanted, "Charles! Yes! Faster!"

They walked the edge together, Sam angling her hips so that he hit as deep as he possibly could, making it more and more difficult for him to hold back.  She could feel the tension in his muscles as he prevented himself from letting go, and she managed to groan, "Harder, please!"

He snarled and released his tight control, driving so hard into her, the bed actually scraped a little ways across the floor with each thrust.

"Fuck!" she yelled, pushing back against him with equal fervor.  

They fell over the precipice together, neither sure who pulled whom, but falling all the same.  Sam was certain she'd blacked out for a moment, seeming to come to, seeing Charles watching her as she rolled over to face him. 

"It seemed you enjoyed that," he smirked, reaching forward to brush her wayward hair out of her face.

"Very much," she nodded, her fingers tracing circles around his navel.

"Your confidence has grown so much, Bunty," he smiled, running his thumb along her jaw.

"That's because of you, Charles," he replied, voice heavy with the onset of fatigue.

"All I did was fan flames from the sparks already there," he yawned, affected by the sleepiness in her tone.

"More like add gasoline," she snorted, flipping onto her back and rubbing her eyes.

Charles rolled over and lay his head on one of her breasts, sighing contentedly as he rested his hand on her abdomen and said "These are the most delectable pillows."

"Glad to hear it," she hummed, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

They both drifted off in that position, Sam feeling blissful and Charles feeling safe.

When Sam awoke, the sun streaming in through her curtains, she realized she'd been granted a wonderful opportunity.  Charles was still asleep, and she had a chance to watch his expressions, caught up in how relaxed he looked.  At some point during the night, they'd shifted so that Charles lay on his back with Sam curled up against him.  She peered at his face, saw how his long eyelashes fell delicately against his cheekbones, traced the perfectly smooth skin along his jawline with her eyes, and itched to bury her fingers in the soft messy blond locks spilling across his forehead.  She shifted ever so carefully away from him and then downward, noting that he was still naked beneath the sheets, and that someone else appeared to be awake as well, straining against the underside of the duvet.  She ducked under the covers and reached over, trailing butterfly-light touches along his shaft.  She skilfully gripped the base and brought her mouth over his tip, hollowing her cheeks as she slid down his length.  She felt him stir awake, a long, low moan issuing from his lips.  Building up a rhythm, including swirling motions with her tongue, or lightly dragging her teeth along his flesh, she felt the comforter being lifted off of them, and long slender fingers sliding into her hair.  

"Samara, fuck!" she'd lightly tugged on his balls to elicit said reaction, continuing to massage them lightly while she sped up with her mouth.

She added a slight twisting motion to the hand gripping his base, and could feel him throbbing beneath her lips.

"I'm close, Bunty," he groaned, warning tone in his voice.

She took him deeper, applied more suction, and increased her tongue pressure, watching as his eyes rolled back and jaw went slack, coinciding with the warm sensation of his release across her tongue.

"Samara," he exhaled, his breathing regulating as he looked over her body to see her swallow then smirk, "Good morning to you too."

She flopped onto her back beside him, about to return the sentiment, when he moved lightning fast to slide into a crouch on the floor, pulling her to the edge of the bed in the process.  Before she could say anything, he'd dropped to his knees and hooked her legs over his shoulders, mouth meeting clit in an explosion of sensation.

She let out a surprised, "Ohh!" as she tugged on his hair, pulling him against her.  While his tongue busied itself with her small hub of nerves, his fingers found their way to her folds, drawing teasing outlines before sinking into her.  The rhythm was fast and hard, his tongue ceaselessly moving, and she was very quickly finding herself close.  The instant he extended his pinky finger and used it to tease the rosy puckered hole below where his other fingers were occupied, she came hard.  Her fingernails dug into his scalp and she screamed his name, her thighs quaking around his face.  He coaxed her back down with his tongue, shivers subsiding into small tremors, her hands running through his hair several times before falling to her sides.

"Now that is a wake-up call," he smirked, standing up in front of her, pulling her to her feet.

He tilted her chin upward using his finger and thumb, pressing his lips firmly to hers once, twice, thrice before stepping back, saying "Why don't you use the washroom first and I'll put on some coffee."

"Okay," she smiled softly, "The beans and grinder are in the cupboard over the coffeemaker."

"Roger that," he nodded, not at all subtle about ogling her as she walked away from him to the hallway.  

He shook his head in wonder, as he had many times before, and pulled on his boxer briefs.  It seemed that Bowser was waiting for him to be decent, as the pup zoomed into the room barking happily, bounding up onto the bed beside Charles.  The Welshman scratched Bowser's ears fondly, chuckling as he spoke, "Why don't you come to the kitchen with me, my tiny kinsman, I know where Samara keeps the treats."

Bowser let out a happy "Ahp!" in response, leaping to the floor and leading the way.  The blond laughed and followed behind, pulling out the bag of treats after he entered the kitchen, and tossing two to the excited pooch.  He then set up the coffee machine and had it brewing before turning around to see Sam walk in, holding out his dress shirt with an apologetic look on her face, "I'm so sorry, I g-guess I was really in the moment.

Charles shrugged, "It's only a shirt."

"But it's Versace!" she exclaimed.

"It wasn't one of their better styles, and I have plenty more," he smirked, taking the material from her hands and kissing her forehead.

His eyes travelled over her form, taking in the black romper that cut off mid-thigh and rode off the shoulder, decorated with red flowers, and showing an excellent amount of cleavage.  He couldn't help himself as he dipped his head to press a kiss against the inside curve of one of her breasts, smiling as he straightened up, "Would you allow me to take you to brunch, Bunty?"

"After coffee," she nodded, grinning.

Once caffeinated, dressed – Charles opting for a soft long-sleeved shirt from his duffle bag - and after quickly walking Bowser, Sam and Charles got into Charles' car, and he drove them to a brunch place near his apartment called 'Eggcentricity'.  They were sat at a small table by the window, overlooking a park lined with trees, and glanced over the menu.

"There are so many breakfast puns," Sam giggled as she read the selections.

"I'm quite partial to the Creped Crusader," stated Charles.

"Now that's a mouthful," commented Sam, "I like the sound of the Omelette It Be, it sounds eggcellent."

"Perhaps you should apply to work here," teased Charles.

"I guess that would be one way to tell my dad I don't want to be the next CEO," Sam sighed. 

Charles was about to respond, but paused as the server came to take the orders.  Once she'd left again, Charles tented his fingers in front of him in thought and asked, "I gather you haven't figured out how to break the news to your father just yet?"

"Nope," replied Sam, "I just know it's going to break his heart."

"Yes, I rather think the meltdown will be one for the books," Charles agreed, resting his chin on his fingertips, "But it will get worse the longer you wait."

"I know," nodded Sam, "I'm still working on what to say is all."

"Perhaps you should tell him about you and I beforehand," Charles joked, "Then the CEO thing won't seem so bad."

"Tell him what, exactly?" prompted Sam, a sincere question in her tone.

Charles blanched and was saved from answering when their server returned with the food, laying the plates down and topping up their coffees.  She made some small talk about the dishes they'd chosen before sauntering off to another table.  Sam seemed to have let her query drop - for now - as she took a big mouthful of her omelette, issuing various noises of pleasure that had Charles' pants tightening.  He adroitly cut a perfectly proportioned piece from his crepe and took it between his lips, not realizing Sam was watching him intently, particularly when he swallowed.

"How is it?" she asked curiously, trying to hide her staring.

"Wonderful, as always," he smiled, then cut another piece and held his fork out to her, "Would you like to try?"

"Okay," she nodded, leaning forward over the table and closing her mouth around the proffered bite.  

She chewed thoughtfully, her eyes lighting up, "This is amazing! I honestly would have never thought of soaking crepes in maple butter."

"I think perhaps the Canadians were on to something," Charles winked.

"W-would you like to taste mine?" she asked shyly.

"I think you know the answer to that is always," he responded in a low baritone, leaning across the table toward her and parting his lips.

She carefully speared a piece of omelette and brought the fork to his mouth, watching him chew and swallow the morsel.

"I think perhaps that might be my second favourite dish," he stated.

"I think those crepes might become my favourite," she grinned.

They soon finished their meals and were getting up to leave, Charles having paid the bill while Sam was in the bathroom, much to her indignation. 

"I have a few errands to run, but I'll drop you off at your place first," said Charles as they walked to his car, their hands having a burgeoning habit of finding each other; absent-mindedly or otherwise.

"Sounds good," nodded Sam, "I should start getting ready for girls' night tonight anyway."

"A girls' night, eh?" smirked Charles, "What exactly does one do on a 'girls' night'?"

"Naked pillow fights and make-out sessions," Sam answered, struggling to hide a mischievous smile.

Charles choked as his imagination became awash with the images inspired by her reply.  He then cleared his throat and attempted to regain his composure, "Ha, ha, Bunty."

"We d-did that last time though," she teased, "This time, we're going to dress up and go out for dinner."

"That sounds interesting," he smiled, "With Monica, I presume?"

"And Vikki and Angela," nodded Sam.

"I shan't expect rapid replies from you this evening then," he quipped, squeezing her hand lightly.

"Well, there may or may not be a photo or two that c-comes your way," she said coyly, blush rising on her cheeks as they approached the car.

"Based on the last photograph you sent me after a 'girls night', I will say I'm more than anticipatory," he responded, discreetly adjusting his pants.

Sam laughed and the sound inspired a smile on Charles' face.  If he were being honest with himself, he was loath to part from her, but didn't want to come across as clingy.  He opened the passenger door for her and closed it once she was settled, walking to the driver’s side.  The drive to her place was a short one, and all too soon - for both of them - he was pulling up to the curb.

"I'll talk to you later," Sam smiled softly as she leaned forward.

"Alright," Charles replied, closing the gap between them.

The kiss was simple, it was sweet, it wasn't too short nor too long...and it felt as though they had been doing it for years.  Charles' hand twitched as he stilled it from reaching out to her, unaware that she was doing the same.

"Have fun tonight," he said, voice almost hushed.

"You enjoy your night too," she poked him in the shoulder light-heartedly.

He almost asked her to stay, to change her plans and spend the rest of the day with him, but a dark voice inside admonished him internally.  ‘Why? Why would she change her plans for you, you fool.’  In the end, he merely watched as she got out of the car and waved before entering her building.  Charles stared after her for a few minutes, lost in thought.  The jarring sound of a car alarm stirred him from his reverie and he shook himself, and said aloud in a scolding tone, "Get ahold of yourself, Jones," before driving off.

Sam spent the rest of the afternoon taking Bowser for a walk, cleaning her apartment a bit, and picking out some outfits to show her friends, wanting their opinions on what to wear.  She found she was becoming much better at picking out ensembles, largely in part to Monica's influence, and Charles' encouragement.  A sudden knock on her door had her dropping the dress she was currently holding and walking over to the entrance, opening up to see Monica and Angela.

"Come in," she grinned, beckoning them inside, "No Vikki?"

"She'll be here soon," replied Angela as she flopped onto Sam's couch, "She was asked last minute to cover a yoga class."

"Ahh," said Sam, pulling some snacks down from the cupboards and laying them out.

"And how are you kiddo?" asked Monica, her tone somewhat suggestive, "I remember us having an interesting discussion on Thursday."

"I, um...w-why don't we wait for Vikki?" stammered Sam, hiding her blush in the opened fridge.

"Fiiiine," teased Monica.

They all caught up a bit, munching on some snacks, Monica and Angela sipping wine while Sam drank some cranberry juice (in a wine glass, of course).  The minute Vikki arrived, Monica whirled on Sam and proclaimed, "Spill!"

Sam recounted her Friday morning, evening, and Saturday morning with Charles.  She blushed on recalling how she'd felt when she was with him, not realizing it transferred to her tone.

"Someone's got it bad," commented Monica.

"Yeah, Charles," agreed Angela.

"I think Monica meant Sam," smiled Vikki.

The three women all looked at each, then at Sam, simultaneously uttering, "Both."

"W-what? No!" exclaimed Sam.

"The denial is strong with this one," giggled Vikki.

"I don't know what you three are talking about," sniffed Sam.

"You'll see, in time," Monica waggled her eyebrows, then "Well it's almost five, should we start getting dressed?"

All present agreed, and Sam went into her room to grab her pre-chosen outfits, bringing them back to the living room for her friends to see.

"Which one do you guys think?" she asked, holding them up one by one.

"Hmm," Monica tapped her chin, "The dark purple off the shoulder one, I think.  Let's see it on you!"

Sam went back into her room to change, tugging her dress over her head.  The front hem reached her upper thighs while the back rested lower, just past her knees.  The wide straps settled on her upper arms, the neckline slightly revealing as she pulled it into place.  She walked back out and almost fell over at the force of Angela's "YES!"

"Agreed," clapped Vikki, she herself sporting a deep green bodycon dress that reached her ankles, a slit running along one side all the way up to her hip.

"Kiddo, you are on fleek," exclaimed Monica, snapping her fingers, adorning a black pantsuit with a neckline that plunged to her bellybutton.

"Sam, can you help me do up the back here?" asked Angela, awkwardly reaching for the eyehook of her outfit. 

Sam walked over and fastened it, taking in the redhead's gauzy backless navy romper and commenting, "This colour really suits you."

"Thanks babe," smiled Angela.

"I'ma need one of you ladies to help me too," stated Monica, one hand holding her breast to the side while her other hand held out a roll of tape.

"I've got you," smiled Vikki, taking the tape and ripping off a piece for her.

Once Monica was set, having finished off the bottle of wine with Angela, they grabbed their clutches - Sam borrowing one from Monica - and headed for the door. Just as they stepped outside, a large black limo rolled up in front of them, the front passenger's side window rolling down and a voice sounding out from within, "I am at your service tonight ladies, courtesy of Miss Olivia. She sends her regrets that she couldn't make it in person." 

As if on cue, the girls' phones all buzzed with same text message - even Monica's, Sam noted - 'Enjoy the bitchin ride my hoes <3'

They all laughed and hopped in, telling the driver - who introduced himself as Enrique, and had no business looking that gorgeous - on which restaurant they wanted to go to.  It was a fancy one uptown, and they popped some champagne (Sam opted for ginger ale) for the ride.

On arrival, they waved goodbye to Enrique, who said he was just a phone call away, and walked through the heavy oak doors of the upscale dining restaurant called 'Heillandi'. They were seated at a beautifully set table not far from the bar, and ordered a bottle of wine to start - Sam asking to try a Shirley Temple. 

"Wow this place is stunning," commented Monica, looking around.

"I heard about it from someone at work," nodded Angela, "It defs lives up to the hype."

"And the wine is exquisite," added Vikki, taking a sip.

Her tone sounded a bit off, and Sam looked to see her yogi friend texting under the table, a hint of a smirk on her face.  Before Sam could tease her, the waiter came to the table, delivering a complimentary charcuterie board and taking their orders. They dug into the meats and cheeses while they each dished about their respective partners; Angela about 'sparring' with Link, Monica about further getting to know Ben, and Sam about her evenings (and mornings and afternoons) with Charles. The chatter suddenly stopped when Angela hissed, "Is that Abe?!", pointing to a table across the room.  They all looked to indeed see Abe, holding hands atop the table in front of him with a blonde girl they recognized as Marie. 

"They're so cute!" grinned Sam.

"Let's send them a bottle of wine," suggested Monica, flipping through the wine menu. 

They settled on Kvoldsol crowberry wine, seeing that they were expensive bottles imported from Iceland. They watched excitedly as their gift arrived at Abe's table, his brow furrowing in confusion until the waiter pointed in the ladies' direction, the latter all giving small waves. Abe grinned and said something to Marie before getting up and walking toward them.

"Hello ladies," he smiled, bowing slightly, "That was awfully kind of you."

"Anything for our mother hen," winked Angela.

"Marie is so gorgeous," nodded Vikki.

"If she didn't look so smitten with you, I'd say you have competition," teased Monica.

"I'll be sure to pass that on," replied Abe with a roguish smile. 

"I'd love to meet her some time," added Sam.

"And she's excited to meet everyone too," nodded Abe, "Just not tonight. We have...plans."

"Oh Captain, her captain," said Angela suggestively, adding a salute for effect.

Abe blushed minutely, but laughed in spite of it. The conversation came to an end when the waiter brought their meals and Abe took it as his cue to exit.  

"What a fine tall drink of water," sighed Monica, eyes glued to his rear as he walked away.

Sam laughed and they all dug in to their food, commenting on the delicious flavours. Once finished, and dessert on the way, the girls got another bottle of wine, Sam opting for a virgin daiquiri, and talked some more. Sam noticed again that Vikki was texting someone, so she asked teasingly, "Someone have your attention, Vikki?"

"More or less," she responded vaguely.

The raven-haired beauty didn't notice Angela peering over her shoulder to read the contact name, immediately letting out a loud, "No way!"

"Who is it?!" asked Monica eagerly, Sam leaning forward as well.

"It's Enrique!" shrieked Angela.

"Yas, get it girl!" Monica clapped her hands.

They all dissolved into fits of laughter, only stopping because dessert had arrived; a shareable plate holding small versions of several confections, including crème brûlée, tiramisu, strawberry cheesecake, and chocolate mousse.  Sam chose to first take a bite of the tiramisu, fond memories coming to the surface of her mind about Italian restaurants and long slender fingers.  Monica's hand suddenly appeared in her vision, palm up as she said, "Give me your phone."

"Why?" asked Sam as she pulled her mobile from her clutch and handed it over.

"Because," said Monica as she fiddled with Sam's hair and dress before aiming the camera, "You have a bit of whipped cream on your lip and you look delicious." 

Sam blushed hard, but managed to ask "But why the phone?" as Monica snapped a few photos, scrolling through them, looking for the best one.

"To send a picture to Charles of course," the pink-haired vixen grinned deviously, being sure to hold the device just slightly out of Sam’s reach.  Before Sam could so much as utter a protest, Monica had sent both the photo and a text, handing Sam back her phone.  The brunette looked down at the screen to see a rather appealing photo of herself – Monica could probably make mud stains look sexy – captioned with the words, ‘This isn’t the only cream I’d like on my face.’

Sam blushed fiercely, shooting a half-hearted glare at her rosy-haired friend before staring at the text message history, her heart hammering as she saw the moving ellipsis that indicated Charles was writing a reply…

Chapter Text

Music suggestions: At the words "The instant they stepped outside..." https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eX9oYG-DGwk
And at the words "Charles drove likely the fastest..." https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pFjryf8zH_M

Suddenly, his response popped up on the screen, 'I'd be more than happy to oblige you,' she could practically hear the sultry tone she knew he'd be speaking with.

"Oh myyyy," commented Monica, having read over Sam's shoulder, "You lucky girl."

"B-but what do I..." Sam trailed off, mind whirring.

"Say something about being thirsty," suggested Vikki.

Sam typed for a moment, then showed her reply to her friends, 'I'm also pretty thirsty,' receiving nods of approval from all of them.  She put her phone down while waiting for his reply, joining in on teasing Vikki about Enrique.

"If you're going to give him road head, please don't do it while we're on the highway," teased Angela, sipping her wine.

"Hoo boy, the last time I did that, a bus full of tourists drove past and saw everything," laughed Monica, "Marshall just waved to them like the dickhead he is."

They continued laughing and talking, Sam jumping a bit when her phone buzzed with a text from Charles.  She opened it clumsily, fingers shaking, and read, 'As am I. And I do recall there being an enticing fountain between your thighs.'

Sam blushed fiercely and almost dropped her phone, drawing the attention of her companions.  Monica gripped Sam's hand and turned the screen so that the three of them could read the words; Angela's cheeks reddening, Vikki whistling, and Monica fanning herself.

"Wow," blinked Angela, "What are you gonna say?"

"Hmm," Sam tapped her chin as she thought back to her encounters with him, a common theme surfacing.

She keyed out her rejoinder, having become aroused by the seductive repartee, and showed it to her friends, 'And it's already flowing, for you,' the truth evidenced in her panties.

"Damn, kiddo," Monica raised an eyebrow, "I'm so proud."

Sam laughed and hit send, only a few seconds passing before Charles responded with, 'Where are you right now?'

She could sense the urgency in his words, as if he needed to be there right then; the same feeling pulsing through her.  She sent him her location and looked up at the three pairs of eyes staring expectantly at her, "I think he's coming."

"Not yet he's not," smirked Monica.

They finished up their wine and paid the bill, Vikki texting Enrique they were ready to go - and a slew of dirtier things that Sam only caught a glimpse of on her phone - and made for the exit.  The instant they stepped outside, a hand appeared on the small of Sam's back, causing her to startle, her head whipping sideways to see Charles, eyes darkly blazing.  He leaned down so his lips brushed her ear and whispered, "You'd best make your farewells quick, or I won't hesitate to throw you over my shoulder."

Sam swallowed and turned to her friends, waving goodbye and saying, "I'll text you guys tomorrow!"

The echo of Angela's "You'd better, or else I'm coming after Whale Boy," sounded behind her as Charles led her hurriedly toward his car, parked in the shadows of a side street.

The second they were out of sight, Charles pinned her roughly against the passenger door, his hips pushing against hers as his lips found her neck.  He tasted her skin and she moaned, her hand tracing over the painfully throbbing bulge in his pants.

"You did this to me," he hissed, pressing his groin into her hand while biting her earlobe.

"Good," she uttered, taking one of his hands and guiding it beneath her dress to feel the dampness at the apex of her thighs, "Because you'd done this to me first."

He growled as his fingers slid under her panties and rubbed smooth firm circles over her clit, causing her to shudder against him.  His movements stilled ever so slightly when her hand resumed stroking his length, aching to be free of his clothes and inside of her.  He pressed his thumb to her small bundle of nerves, caressing in ever-widening circles as two of his fingers slid home, curling to hit the spot that never ceased to make her tremble.  A loud noise just past the alley had Charles withdrawing his hand from Sam, receiving a frustrated sob in reply, until he stepped over to open the door to the backseat of his car and tugged on her hand, guiding her into the back.  He shot a quick glance both ways down the alley before following suit and locking the doors.  Sam scooted over until she was leaning against the inside of the opposite door.  Charles gripped her thigh, lifting her leg and pressing it against the seats, her dress falling around her hips.  He grasped her underwear and was about to rip it, when he realized it was the white lacy pair he'd gotten her.

"You planned this, didn't you?" he breathed, his lips brushing the skin below her navel.

"N-no, but I can't say I-I'm disappointed," her voice caught as he nipped the skin over her hip bone before bringing her legs together and slowly, his eyes on hers the entire time, sliding the delicate garment down off of her and tossing it into the front seat.

Before she could say anything else, his tongue was flicking over her clit, and his fingers were moving inside of her in a way that had her entire body shaking.

"You taste exquisite," he exhaled, lips sucking on her rosy bud while a third finger joined the already pistoning two, "Though I don't know if I'll ever be able to quench this thirst I have for you."

"Ohh Charles," she moaned, the combination of his words, mouth, and fingers doing her in, "You feel so good."

"What exactly feels so good about me?" he asked teasingly, moving his lips to kiss just above where she needed him.

"Y-your tongue, on me, in me, all-FUCK!" she exclaimed harshly as his thumb had momentarily replaced his tongue so it could venture to stroke along her folds.  He removed his fingers from her, his tongue sliding into their place, its movement rendering her incapable of speech.  His thumb continued massaging her clit as his flexible tongue plunged into her again and again, seemingly articulating precisely how he felt about doing this to her.  He could feel her muscles flexing as she grew closer, her walls tensing, her breaths growing more rapid.  Her hands were wrapped in his hair, unconsciously pulling his mouth against her as her hips bucked up to meet him, chanting his name as she clung desperately to the feeling he evoked within her.  Then, a sharp curl of his tongue and a swipe of his thumb had her erupting into a hard climax, a loud cry emanating from her as her back arched, her jaw slack, and her eyes squeezed shut.  Charles continued gently stroking her with his tongue as she came down, her hips returning to lay on the seat.

"I didn't realize how truly I spoke when I said 'fountain'," he sounded breathless, and Sam realized his meaning.

"I-I'm so sorr-" she had begun to apologize, knowing she'd likely ruined his upholstery, but was silenced by the look in his eyes and the firm tone of voice he took when he said, "Don't apologize, Samara, I would gladly do it again, and again, and again."

The idea of him wanting to do that to her over and over, the conviction with which he spoke it, had Sam leaning up to grip his tie and pull his lips to hers.  Their kiss was hard and fiery, but a strong underlying emotion gave it a depth they both willingly surrendered to; being unable to get enough.  Not enough time, not enough touch, not close enough.

"Turn over onto your hands and knees," he commanded against her lips.

She did as Charles asked, adjusting into a position she felt she could maintain, hearing the sounds of a zipper sliding, and foil wrapping being torn behind her.  Her head dropped forward as she felt his fingers manipulating her clit before sliding across her entrance, through the cleft of her buttocks, and around to her hip.  He gripped the flesh there and lined himself up behind her, letting out a slow moan of approval when he saw her shift her hand to pick up where he'd left off.  Knowing she was touching herself, he couldn't hold back, driving into her with one hard thrust, to the hilt.

"Ahh!" she cried out, the sense of fullness she'd come to crave overtaking her.

He grabbed her hips and held her in place, swivelling his own to hit all of the spots inside of her that he could reach, deeply and fully.  Sam moaned and tried to pull forward for more movement, but he held her fast, continuing his sinuous motions.

"Charles, please," she begged, twitching as he hit a particularly sensitive spot.

"Please what?" he purred, feeling his self-control slipping as her muscles squeezed around him.

"Fuck me, Charles!" she growled, her impatience winning over.

"With pleasure," his baritone rolled through her as he drew his hips back before plunging back into her, hard.

He quickly built up a punishing rhythm, fingers digging into her hips as he maneuvered her against him.  Sam's fingers worked frenziedly over her engorged nub as he seemed to keep hitting deeper and deeper, inspiring the blossoming of a delicious friction between them.  Sam had begun to recognize the signs of his impending orgasm, and when she heard his breathing rhythm change, and felt his pelvic motions become more erratic, less controlled, she started thrusting back against him hard, turning her head so their eyes met while she sobbed out his name.  The amalgamation of her efforts, along with Charles realizing why she was doing it, catapulted him into a sudden climax, driving as deeply as possible on the final thrust.  That depth, his visible ecstasy, and knowing he was finding his release inside of her, had Sam following right behind him, their voices mingling and echoing back off of the fogged car windows.  Soon, their heartbeats slowed to normal once more, their breaths came deeper, and Charles leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the small of Sam’s back.  He pulled out and took care of the condom while Sam shifted awkwardly around to face him, eyes shining.

"That was...intense," she breathed.

"Very," he agreed, reaching over to stroke her cheek with his knuckle.

She gripped his hand in hers, holding it against her face while her gaze remained locked with his.  The world seemed to slow in that moment, all noise hushed, all else faded, it was just Sam and Charles.  She could feel something powerful bubbling just beneath the surface; unbeknownst to her that Charles felt similarly.  Words tried forming on the tips of their tongues, bodies unconsciously leaning closer; then a shout from close by brought both of them back to reality.  Sam blushed and dropped Charles' hand while he cleared his throat in turn.

"I'll drive you home," his voice was soft.

"Okay," she nodded.

Before he could turn away, Sam quickly shifted toward him, hand on his thigh for balance, and kissed his lips.  He was surprised at first, then returned her embrace for a few moments before he stepped outside.  Sam slid over to exit the car behind him, disembarking onto the sidewalk.  He had held out his hand to help her from the vehicle, and didn’t let go until she was safely deposited in the front passenger's seat.  He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair as he walked around and entered the driver's side.  Starting the ignition, he began the relatively short drive to Sam's place, smiling inwardly when he felt her hand rest atop his on the gearshift.  The ride was mostly silent, with Charles processing their moment and Sam working up the courage to ask him to stay the night.  She was a bundle of nerves by the time he'd parked outside her building, having worried a small tear in her bottom lip with her teeth.  

In the end, he spoke before she had a chance to try and voice her thoughts, "As much as I would like to, I cannot stay the night," he sounded truly regretful (which he was).  He saw the slight look of hurt in her eyes and quickly followed up his statement with, "I have a very early morning, and I fear if I stay with you, there will be very little sleeping."

His voice, deepening with each word, caused goosebumps to erupt across Sam’s skin, "You're probably right," she smirked.

"However," he continued, almost shyly, "Perhaps I can return the favour of cooking dinner tomorrow night? At your place?"

"I-I would like that," she smiled.

"Alright then," his returning smile was just as genuine, "I'll be here tomorrow at around 5."

"Sounds good," she nodded.

They were already close, so it didn't take much for Sam to close the gap between them - especially since he'd been leaning forward too - ending their time together in a simple but meaningful kiss.  Sam broke it first, kissing him lightly on the nose before hopping out of the car, leaning back in to grab the lacy white panties from her seat then stuffing them into her clutch.

"See you tomorrow," she said, voice hushed.

"You can count on it," Charles grinned.

Sam closed the door and waved to him before walking into her apartment building, the sound of his car speeding off leaving her feeling somewhat bereft.  She climbed up to her apartment and had a quick shower before getting ready for bed, Bowser curling up beside her.  She was asleep fairly quickly, the day having finally caught up with her.  However, had she been up and watching her message history with Charles, she would have seen the moving ellipsis for several hours as the man in question was constantly typing out and erasing the words he found himself unable to say.

Sam spent most of the next day cleaning her apartment, making sure it looked presentable.  She was a bit nervous at having Charles come over to actually spend time with her rather than just have sex (not that they wouldn't be doing so).  She took Bowser for a walk, hoping to help ease some of her nerves.  She thought about the night before in his car, when there had been what felt like a charge in the air.  She wondered what would have happened if they hadn't been interrupted...yet again.  Sam knew that what she felt for Charles was deeper than simply meeting each other's needs, she wasn't oblivious.  What she was less certain of was how Charles felt about her, what he thought of her.  She could sometimes catch glimpses in his eyes, his tone, his body language, but she knew his past and was afraid to cross any lines with him.

"Why is it never easy?" she asked Bowser, who cocked his head at her and whimpered, "Well at least I know how you feel," she smiled, scratching the mini Welshman behind the ears.  

A quick time check showed Sam she had about 30 minutes before Charles arrived - and knowing him, he would likely be a little bit early too.  She and Bowser headed back to her apartment, leaving enough time to change into a light burgundy sweater dress with long flowy sleeves, a very short hem, and a less than modest neckline; knowing it was solely for his eyes.  She brought it all together with a thin dark brown belt around her waist, unknowingly accentuating her hour-glass figure.  She got a very brief chance to look herself over in the mirror before a knock was sounding at her door.  Her heart felt like it skipped a beat, and she went to open it, the sight of Charles with relaxed hair, glasses, and skinny jeans causing her heart to skip again.

"H-hi," she breathed shyly, reaching out to help him with the bags of food he was holding.

"Good evening," he returned, eyes raking over her figure as he let her take one bag - only one - from him.

"You're early," she teased, closing the door and locking it behind him as he brought the bags to the kitchen.

"Are you surprised?" he cocked an eyebrow at her as he pulled a delicate looking box from one bag and placed it gently in the fridge.

"Something special in there?" she queried, nodding toward the box.

"You'll see," he replied mysteriously, winking at her.

Sam narrowed her eyes at him and turned to remove the other items from his grocery bags, starting to get an idea of what he was making.

"Fish and chips?" she asked excitedly.

"Indeed," he nodded, "You seemed to enjoy it at The Snug."

"I did," she smiled, "And didn't you mention about a great place in Wales for it?"

"I...er...I did, yes," Charles stumbled on his words, rubbing the back of his neck as his cheeks reddened.

"Lambombo Junction?" she questioned.

Charles laughed outright, causing Sam to giggle as well, "Llandudno Junction," he corrected once he had the breath to.

"Llandudno," Sam repeated, "Well it sounds amazing, to get such high praise from you."

"Actually," Charles held up a finger as he arranged the ingredients around, "My mother and I spent months trying to replicate their fish and chips recipe, and I believe we came incredibly close."

"Is that what you're making tonight?" she asked, eyes shining.

"It is," he smiled, unable to resist pressing a chaste kiss to her lips.

"What can I do?" she asked, moving to pull two aprons from a cupboard.

She handed Charles the one with the cupcake pattern, while she adorned the one covered in dragons.  She couldn't stifle a laugh at him covered in cupcakes, even more so when he raised an unamused eyebrow at her.

"You can sit back and relax," he replied, washing some potatoes.

"Nope," she shook her head, moving to stand beside him.

"Alright," he sighed, handing her the rinsed potatoes, "These need peeling and to be cut into thin strips, like chips."

"Got it," she nodded, setting about her task.  

Once Charles had finished with the potatoes, he measured some flour out into a bowl and placed it into the fridge, earning an odd look from Sam.

"One of the tricks we learned for better flavour," he responded, tapping his temple.

"What other tricks are there?" she asked, finishing up with the cutting.

"We got the best results with the chilled flour, using very cold beer, and watching the temperature of the oil; between 350 to 375 was best," he replied enthusiastically.

Sam smirked at him, her arms folded in front of her.

"What?" he asked, seeing her posture.

"It's just...you're cute when you're excited about something," she laughed.

Her laugh was cut short as he swiftly pinned her against the counter, their noses touching, "You mean I'm not cute all the time?" he pouted.

Sam kissed him, "There's cute and then there's sexy," she murmured.

"I see what you mean," he rumbled, nipping her bottom lip before stepping away, leaving her somewhat hot and bothered.

He pulled a large cast-iron frying pan from another bag and placed it on one of the elements of Sam's stove, adding a good amount of oil before turning on the heat.

"I wasn't sure if you had a large pan or not," he said as he also set the oven to preheat.

"Not as big as that one," she replied, earning a smirk from Charles.

"Do you have a slotted spoon?" he asked, moving the bowl of cut potatoes to rest by the stove.

"Yes, here," she said, handing him one.

"Thanks, love," he didn't even notice the endearment as he kissed her cheek absentmindedly; but Sam certainly did, her cheeks flushing.

He pulled out a thermometer and tested the oil, finding it satisfactory.  They ran the fries through the first round of frying, Charles guiding Sam on how to know when to take them out of the oil.  Once finished, Charles turned the temperature up again, and ran them through another round of frying.

"Could you pull out a baking sheet?" he asked, finishing up the last batch.

Sam did so, placing it on the kitchen bar.  She watched Charles dump the fries onto it and sprinkle some sea salt overtop before placing them in the oven.

"Ah, I was wondering if they'd go cold," she nodded.

"And now the fish," he waggled his eyebrows at her.

She laughed and followed his instructions on mixing the batter.  At one point he'd said she wasn't coating it quite right so stood behind her and held her hand, guiding her; their proximity setting her aflame.  Once he was satisfied, she continued coating and dipping the fish, with Charles frying it in the perfectly heated oil.  Sam laughed further when he meticulously checked his thermometer, and further amusement was born when she smudged some flour on his nose, and the glare she received in response was so very Charles.  Soon after, the fish was done and the fries were out of the oven.  They each made their own plates and sat at Sam's kitchen bar.  She took a bite of the fish, her eyes closing as a moan spilled out from her.

"This is delicious," she spoke around the morsel.

"That was after months of trials upon trials," he smiled, tucking into his own.

"You guys must really like fish and chips," she joked, biting into a fry.

"I can't count how many restaurants and pubs my mother and I went to, searching for the perfect fish and chips," his voice held a wistful quality that had Sam curious.

"Tell me about it," her voice was encouraging.

She finished her food as he told her about the different places he and his mother had gone to on their quest, some far, some hidden in plain sight, some run by locals, some chains.  She smiled when he described the better finds, and grimaced with him when he talked of the not-so-good ones, like the horrible Canadian chain that had dared to use low-carb beer for their batter.  Once their plates were empty, they did a bit of cleaning up and while Charles was rinsing some dishes, Sam tried to sneak a peek into the box in the fridge.

"My my, such a nosy parker," his voice rang low in her ear as he was suddenly pressed up against her, her hand withdrawing sharply from the box.

She leaned back into him, whispering, "Well, you know how I feel about dessert."

"You'd best be careful," he murmured, "Or you might be dessert."

She shivered with anticipation as his arm came around her...only to grab the box and pull it out of the fridge.  She sighed frustratedly and followed him to the kitchen bar, watching as he opened it.  Inside was a beautiful round chocolate cake, covered in a luscious creamy icing, and a ring of whipped cream topped with halved strawberries.

"Did you make this?" she asked, astonished.

"Yes, baking is somewhat a specialty of mine," he grinned sheepishly.

"It looks...wow," she said, voice hushed.

"It has a name," Charles' voice was once again in her ear, his breath ghosting over her cheek.

"Oh?" she asked, breathless.

"Gateau D'Amour," he kissed her neck, tongue smoothing over the goosebumps he'd instigated.

She reached forward and plucked a strawberry piece from the top, turning and holding it up to Charles' mouth.  He closed his lips around both the fruit and the tips of her fingers, sucking on them lightly.  Sam's panties were instantly damp and she wanted, more than anything, to leave the cake for later and jump him right there.  But yet again, he was pulling away, endlessly riling her up, and heading for the coffeemaker.

"I'll set a pot brewing to go with the cake," he smirked, looking at her out of the corner of his eye.

"Ok fine," she almost snapped, her frustration getting the better of her.

She moved to pull down some plates and forks, placing them on the counter before removing her apron.  She then quirked her eyebrow deviously and moved to stand behind Charles, slowly undoing the apron tie from behind his back, then from around his neck.  Predictably, it flopped forward and she moved her arms around him to catch it, 'accidentally' brushing against his groin.  She heard the sharp intake of breath as her fingers came in contact with the firm bulge that was there, a feeling of triumph soaring through her as she coyly said, “Oh sorry, my prince.”  She could feel his eyes on her as she cut them each a slice of cake, Charles pouring the coffee.  They took everything over to the couch and sat side by side, each taking a bite of the cake and making sounds of delight.

"Oh god," Sam said a bit loudly, savouring the flavours, "This is...I don't even have a word for it."

"Decadent," supplied Charles, taking a sip of coffee.

"Definitely," she responded, taking another bite.

As her cake disappeared, Sam contemplated grabbing a second slice, but the look on Charles' face stopped her.

"What?" she asked, confused as he stared intently at her lips.

She didn't feel it, but there was a bit of whipped cream sitting just atop her upper lip.  Charles leaned forward and kissed her, licking off the cream.  Her eyes met his and she swiped a fingerful of more whipped cream, smearing it onto Charles' lower lip.  She immediately followed this up with a kiss, nipping his lower lip and cleaning off the dessert with her tongue.  It was Charles' move, and he grabbed the last bit of strawberry from his plate, holding it gently between his teeth, eyes on Sam.  She leaned toward him and closed her mouth around the other half of it, their lips meeting around the fruit.  They took a beat to chew and swallow the strawberry, before their lips were once again joined.  It was then as if they each were parched and the other was water, both moving to deepen the kiss, hands grasping clothes and hair to pull ever closer. 

Charles' lips traced along Sam's neck and her hands ran down his chest, fingers digging in.  He undid her belt while she gripped the hem of his cashmere sweater, pulling it up and over his head.  Next went her dress, his tongue following along on her skin as it appeared from beneath the fabric.  She had his jeans undone in seconds, tugging them and his boxer briefs down his legs, kissing as she went.  With those and his socks pooled on the floor beside her, Sam slowly slid her hands up his shins, over his knees, along his thighs, looking up at him as she leaned forward to press a kiss to his erect tip.  He gasped as she licked around his head, then trailed her tongue down his shaft, flattening it against him before licking back up.  His hands were in her hair and tugged lightly as she brought her mouth over the tip of his length, enjoying the low moan he released.  Her hand gripped his base and slid up to meet her lips as she moved her head down, swallowing at the bottom before gliding back up.  She carried this on for several minutes, watching him slowly become more undone.  She'd just finished an upward movement, having swirled her tongue over his tip before releasing him with a sucking sound, when she felt his fingers under her chin, tilting her eyes to meet his.

"Stand up," he said, voice deep and commanding.

“Yes, my prince,” she murmured, trying not to grin at his reaction as she did what he asked.

She moved as close to him as possible, and he leaned forward from his seated position on her couch.  He brought his lips to kiss her clit, his tongue flicking across it, making her knees buckle as she let out a "Hah."  He extended his tongue and lapped along her glistening folds, ending each stroke with a swirl over her engorged nub.  He repeated this once, twice more, then moved his hand up the inside of her leg until he was inserting two fingers inside of her, pairing a pumping rhythm with his tongue’s movement.  He used varying speeds and pressures, ramping her up slowly, languishing in the sounds she made and the way her breath came in short pants.  He was surprised when she gripped his hair and lightly tugged his head away from her, gesturing for him to wait.  She reached over to the coffee table drawer and pulled out a familiar foil package, noting how dilated Charles' pupils were.  She made quick work of applying the latex sheath, taking Charles' hand as he held it out to her.  He spun her so that she was facing away from him, then pulled her toward him until she was nestled between his outspread legs.  One hand grasped her hip while his other held his cock, lining it up so that when he guided her downward, she sank right down onto him, her body shuddering as he hit deep with the aid of gravity.  She braced her hands on his thighs, taking a second to adjust.  She started her movement by slowly rotating her hips, whimpering as his length hit all of the good spots inside of her, spurred on by his moans.

"Fuck, Bunty, you're so tight," he groaned, fingers digging into the flesh of her hips.  

Using her legs, she raised herself upward, then sat back down, letting the fall aid in thrusting him deeply.  He helped her move, feeling every soft velvety inch of her as her muscles squeezed around him.  He would only last an embarrassingly short amount of time if she kept it up, especially since he could see his cock sliding in and out of her from that angle.  She seemed to feel the same as she let out a shaky breath before moving upward and stepping off of him.  He watched her curiously as she stepped away then pressed his knees together, moving backward until she was against him once more, her thighs astride his.  Further surprising him, she brought first one knee, then the other onto the couch beside his hips, so that she was positioned in a reverse straddle. 

He felt his anticipation building as she painstakingly lowered herself onto him, he feeling her thighs shaking with effort.  He reached one hand around, partly to brace her against his chest, but mostly so he could cup her breast and tease her nipple as she began a provocative sequence of up and down.  The fingers of his other hand found their way to massaging her clit, he feeling her rhythm grow more erratic.  When her head dropped back to rest on his shoulder, he took advantage of the situation and kissed her neck.  That, in combination with his fingers on her, his voice whispering in her ear, "Come for me, Samara," Sam came hard, her hand grabbing onto the one he had on her breast, grip hard as she sobbed his name.  When she was able to move again, she realized that Charles was still hard inside of her.  She was about to ask him what he wanted, when she felt his hand pressing lightly between her shoulder blades, guiding her to lean forward.  She did so until her palms were planted on the floor, lower half still in place, her fingers gripping the carpet as she felt Charles' hands on her hips.

"Hang on, Bunty," he murmured, almost immediately pistoning his hips up off the couch to drive into her, her resulting cry striking him deep.  He pounded relentlessly as she struggled to keep some kind of hold on the floor, feeling herself grow close again as the angle had his flesh rubbing against her clit.  

"Oh! Shit!" she cried out, feeling a second climax eclipse all other feelings, exacerbated by his thrusting hips.

"Samara, fuck!" he yelled in concert, both embracing the white hot intensity of orgasm as they peaked together.

As she came back to herself, Sam felt her arms aching with the effort of keeping herself propped up.  Charles seemed to notice this and he bent forward to slide his hands under her shoulders and lift her back up to straddling, so she could lean against him.  They sat that way for a minute or two, Sam tilting her head to kiss Charles's neck, and Charles bringing her hand to his lips, pressing a light kiss to each fingertip.  When they felt ready to move again, Charles helped her dismount before rolling off the condom and heading to the bathroom to clean up.  While in there, he couldn't help but smile on seeing a brand new blue toothbrush set next to Sam's, obviously meant for him.  Meanwhile, Sam went to her bedroom and laid out her pyjamas, suddenly hit with a deep yawn.  She pivoted upon hearing Charles leave the bathroom and walk toward her.

"My turn," she smiled, kissing him as she walked by.

He stretched his arms upward and moved toward Sam's bed.  He saw her pyjamas and, having an idea, placed them just inside her closet, still folded.  He then crawled under the duvet, still fully naked, waiting for Sam to join him.  When she came back into the room, she stopped beside the bed, looking around confusedly.

"Did you see my PJ's?" she asked, moving to peer under the bed.

"You don't need them," replied Charles, watching the way her body moved; having been gifted such a glorious view.

"B-but, then I'll be sleeping naked," she scrunched up her face.

"It's quite freeing, trust me," he smirked, lifting the corner of the comforter, gesturing for her to join him.

She took a breath and then crawled in beside him, taking up her now familiar position of lying on her side with her hand on his chest and her head tucked into the perfectly sized hollow by his shoulder.  The amount of skin on skin contact had her feeling warm and comforted, and she was quick to let sleep claim her, with Charles not falling far behind.

Charles woke up, momentarily disoriented on seeing a room that wasn't his before his brain registered he was at Sam's. 'I might have to ask for my own drawer at this rate,' he joked internally, ignoring the part of him yelling, 'You can't!'  He looked downward to see Sam sprawled across his chest, bedhead obscuring her features.  He slowly and carefully reached over to brush some of the strands aside, holding in an amused chuckle at the small puddle of drool she'd created.  A quick glance at her alarm clock showed he still had about 5 minutes to simply observe her before her alarm for work would go off.  He couldn't deny the pang he felt in his chest on seeing the look of utter contentment on her face, in his embrace, in a bed together.  He hadn't been this way with someone since...since he'd had his heart brutally ripped from his chest. 

He had vowed to never get close to another woman after what she'd done to him, always keeping his distance, keeping things clinical, and absolutely never sleeping over.  And yet...all of those rules he'd made for himself, the restrictive boundaries were shattered the moment he'd seen Sam for who she truly was; not the weakling daughter of his boss, but a strong, passionate woman with a steadfastness which, while not always visible, was most certainly ever present.  His fingers itched to trace patterns over her familiar, smooth skin, having already memorized where her scars lay, always ensuring to press gentle kisses to them whenever he had the chance.  The only thing stopping him was the serenity of her pose in that moment, how her state of pure calm showcased her complete trust in him. 

Seeing this had him very reluctant to disturb her, knowing he would get the chance shortly when the discordant sounds of her alarm rang out.  Instead, he closed his eyes and matched his breathing to hers, continuing to ruminate on how things with Sam had changed.  He'd delved so deeply into his introspection that he jumped slightly when the alarm sounded, Sam stirring in his arms and letting out a groan as she reached out blindly to smack the blaring device with her hand.  She lifted her head to greet him and, on noticing the smear of her drool on his chest, tried to surreptitiously wipe it away.

"No need to attempt subtlety," he teased, his voice raspy with the last tendrils of sleep, "I already saw it."

She sighed embarrassedly and grabbed a corner of the duvet, using it to dry off his skin.  She then propped herself up on her elbows and simply looked at him, her curious scrutiny soon making him fidget.

"Everything alright?" he asked quietly.

"I j-just..." she bit her lip and looked away, fingers playing with the sheet, "I just really enjoy waking up like this."

"As do I," he murmured, reaching up to brush a hand through her hair, pushing it back from her features.

She leaned up, lightly kissing him, his knuckle tracing along her jawline.  She went to pull away, but he held her fast, moving to nip and kiss along her neck, enjoying her squirming against him.

"B-but we'll be late!" she managed to get out, not really fighting him all that hard.

"Sod it," he grinned, their lips meeting again in a deep embrace, her hand gliding across his chest while both of his gripped her rear.

He rotated slightly so that Sam was more on her side, giving him room to slide his fingers down to rub circles over her clit.  She shivered and moved to retaliate, holding his hard length in a firm grip and stroking.  He badly wanted to taste her, but knew that if he started, it would be a while before he let up, settling instead for running his tongue over her skin and sliding his fingers in and out of her, his thumb occupied with the small nub at the apex of her folds.  He could feel how wet she was, the knowledge of it causing his cock to twitch in her grasp.  He bent his head and closed his mouth around her nipple, teasing the hardening peak with his tongue, reveling in how it made her hands falter.  When she started grinding against his hand, he made to roll over and pull a condom from her nightstand, but was halted by a tug on his arm.  He looked at her, perplexed, seeing how red her cheeks were.

"I-I...well...we don't n-need them, if you d-don't want..." her gaze seemed very focused on his chest.

"Samara," he said softly, his voice coaxing her to meet his eyes, "What are you saying?"

She took a steadying breath, responding, "Today m-marks two weeks since I started taking the pill, and I-I'm comfortable with it if you are..."

"You did that for me?" he asked, completely flabbergasted yet again by this petite woman before him.

"Y-yes," she blushed harder, "And me, I-I wanted to feel you...and for you to feel me."

Charles had no more words at that point, so he pulled her against him fiercely, their lips crashing together.  He reached down and grasped her leg behind her knee, lifting it so it rested on his hip.  His other hand was still pinned beneath Sam, so she reached down to align him with her entrance, gasping when he rocked his pelvis forward, slightly neatly inside of her.  He held his position, drawing out their kiss, his tongue running along her upper lip.  He drew his hips back and synchronized a thrust inward with a nip to her bottom lip, each moaning against the other.  He began to pick up his pace, feeling her fingernails dragging along his back, not caring if they broke the skin. 

She tilted her head back and he took advantage, ravishing her neck as he adjusted the angle of her leg, driving even deeper, harder, faster.  He was having trouble maintaining control, the lack of barrier between them heightening the sensation tenfold.  He was growing very close, and he knew she was too, based on the way her muscles flexed around his length; the nuances of which he could feel all the better now.  He adjusted himself slightly so that when the time came, he'd be able to pull out with relative ease, but Sam must have sensed this, as she grabbed his rear cheek and pushed him into her, whispering "Stay."

That one motion with that one word and he was gone, sailing over into an intense climax that had him sharply thrusting once, twice as he released inside of her.  This new feeling, knowing that he was finding his absolution within her, somehow claiming her in a way, propelled Sam into a bone-rattling orgasm of her own.  Shudders continued wracking her body, even as she slowly registered the sensation of Charles placing soft pecks on her lips.  She opened her eyes to see his bright blue ones gazing back at her, into her.

"I...I never...that...woah," she breathed.

"Agreed," he chuckled, kissing her again before relinquishing his hold on her and falling onto his back.

They both lay where they were, panting, until Sam glanced at the clock.

"We're definitely going to be late!" she exclaimed, hopping up from the bed and heading straight to the shower.

For the first time in a long time, Charles found himself truly not caring about being late for work...especially if the reason was this.  He got up and stretched, giving himself a quick wipe with the tissues from Sam's night table before going to put on the coffee maker.  Once he heard the bathroom door opening and the sound of Sam's hurried footsteps down the hall, he popped into the washroom himself to clean up a bit and to brush his teeth.  Once both were ready to leave, coffee poured into travel mugs, and each with a muffin from Sam's fridge, they both gave Bowser goodbye pets before heading down to Charles' car.

"We'll be at least 30 minutes late," Sam groaned as they drove toward the office.

"Worth it, I'd say," Charles winked.

"Without a doubt," Sam nodded; the way she'd answered without any hesitation making Charles smile, "But I have to leave early today too."

"You do?" he asked, brows furrowed.

"Yeah I have my eye appointment," she replied, looking over at him.

"Ah yes, that's right," he nodded.

"Must be that memory of yours," she sipped her coffee, "I guess that’s what happens when you get older and start to forget things.  Something's mucking about with the COG's in your brain…”

"You're lucky I'm driving," he retorted, voice low, "Else I'd have you over my knee for that comment."

He got the result he'd been aiming for; Sam blushing fiercely, though it wasn't enough to quell a swift riposte, "Then maybe I should say it again when you're not driving."

This time, Charles was the one who blushed, practically choking in surprise.  Sam took another victory sip of her coffee, grinning madly on knowing she’d made him lose his composure.  Before he could continue the battle of wits, his phone rang, a familiar voice vibrating through his car speakers as he answered it.

"Charles? Where are you?" Lucy asked.

"Running a bit late this morning I'm afraid," he replied, "We got a bit sidetracked."

Sam immediately glared at him as they heard silence on the other end, followed by a squealed "WE?!"

Charles chuckled as Sam smacked his shoulder, Lucy continuing with, "So Sam's there too, eh?"

Charles looked over at her, smirking, though Sam refused to allow him the satisfaction.

"Sam I know you're there," Lucy's voice was louder, "Sam. Sam. Sam. Sam. SAM. SAM SA-"

"Alright fine! Yes, Lucy, I'm here," Sam said exasperatedly.

They heard the sound of rustling and then Lucy's voice, "Pay up, Umed."

"Why am I not surprised," sighed Charles as he pulled into the parking garage, "We will be up momentarily," he spoke into the phone before ending the call.

They got out and walked onto the elevator, Sam with her arms crossed in front of her, a look of concentration on her face.

"Plotting my demise, Bunty?" he chuckled.

The elevator was blissfully empty, save for the two of them, and Sam took advantage of the situation, launching herself to shove him against the wall the instant the doors were closed.

"More like my revenge," she whispered, kissing him soundly, her fingers mussing his perfectly gelled hair.

He pulled her close, hands drifting down to cup her ass as she rolled her hips against him, feeling precisely how she was affecting him.  He was just deepening the kiss when Sam suddenly stepped back from him, seconds before the ding of the elevator indicated they were at their floor.  Sam smirked at Charles as he hurriedly fixed his hair, then stared pointedly at the tent he was sporting in his trousers.

"Oh but what you have started, Bunty," he whispered as the doors opened, walking out ahead of her.

They walked through the main door to Young Technologies, Lucy grinning madly at the both of them.

"Had a good morning, eh?" she waggled her eyebrows.

"A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell," Charles quipped, treating the redhead to a jaunty wink as he walked past.

Lucy's huge smile was turned on Sam, who's cheeks were beet red, "Well can I get you some coffee?"

"Umm sure," replied Sam suspiciously.

"I know you usually take cream in it, but it seems like you already had plenty this morning," added Lucy, managing to look innocent and devious at the same time.

Sam coughed hard, hearing a deep chuckle just before Charles' office door closed; though still throwing a glare in that direction for good measure.

"I'll get my own coffee," she sniffed, trying to hold back a smile as she headed for the kitchen, Lucy giggling behind her.

The rest of the day went by fairly quickly, both Sam and Charles having been busy.  Soon enough, it was 3:30, and Sam closed up her desk, stepping into Charles' office on her way out.

"I'm heading off to my appointment," she closed the door before walking behind his desk.

"Would you like me to pick you up after?" he asked, swiveling in his chair before standing in front of her.

"No that's alright," she fidgeted with her hair nervously, "Though I thought m-maybe I could...go straight to your place from my appointment?"

Charles smiled at her, kissing her softly, murmuring his answer against her lips, "I couldn't say no to that even if I wanted to."

"Okay," she smiled back, looking at him through her lashes, "I'll see you then."

She gave him one last peck on the lips before she walked out, leaving a blushing, smiling Welshman behind her. 

Once outside, Sam noticed the weather was actually quite nice, which would make the 30 minute walk to her eye doctor's office that much better.  Just before she could set off, a voice halted her movement "Excuse me, Miss?"

She turned to see a handsome man with chestnut hair and deep brown eyes, his voice holding an accent very similar to Charles', "C-can I help you?" she asked, taking a step toward him.

"I hope so," he smiled roguishly at her, "I'm looking for Young Technologies, am I at the right building?"

"You are," she nodded, "It's just inside on the first floor.  Are you a client?"

"No, I'm meeting a friend. I'm visiting from out of town," his words set off an uneasy feeling in Sam, but she couldn't quite pinpoint why.

"Well I hope you're enjoying it here," she commented, intending to segue into the end of the conversation.

"I think I might enjoy it even more if I had a tour guide such as yourself," he winked.

"Oh, thanks," she tried to smile in return, but thought it might have come out as a grimace, "But I actually have t-to get to an appointment."

"Isn't that always the way?" he sighed teasingly, flashing her one more flirtatious grin, "Perhaps our paths shall cross again."

"Yeah, bye," she responded, trying not to walk away too quickly, "I sincerely hope not," she muttered under her breath.

The uneasy feeling that had set in on meeting the strange man followed Sam all the way to her doctor's office, and then some.

Charles felt light as he packed up for the day about an hour after Sam had left, thinking ahead to what they could do for dinner.  He said goodbye to Lucy and Umed, both of whom were staying a bit later, before heading out to the elevator, toe tapping to a song he had stuck in his head.  The carefree feeling he had continued all the way down and out into the parking garage.  However, upon seeing who was leaning against his car, his heart dropped to his feet.  A seething anger rose within him, but he kept a neutral mask as he approached the unwanted visitor.

"Hey, Charles," the interloper greeted, standing up straight.

"Griffiths," Charles ground out through clenched teeth.

"You didn't answer my messages or my calls," Griffiths stated, taking a step forward.

"I thought perhaps you would take the hint," Charles replied icily.

"I came all the way to America to talk to you Charles, and I'm not leaving until I do," Griffiths squared his shoulders.

"I'd say we've already exchanged more words today than I ever wanted to for the rest of my life," Charles' hands were balled into fists at his sides.

"Just hear me out," Griffiths held a palm forward placatingly.

"Why should I?" Charles was observing the path to his car, angry that Griffiths was exactly in the way.

"Gwen still feels so guilty, you know," Griffiths rubbed the back of his neck, "We both do."

"Guilty because you were fucking each other behind my back? Or because you got caught," Charles' tone carried a sharp frost that seemed to blow across the garage.

"Both, really," shrugged Griffiths, "We never meant for you to find out that way."

"I've already grown weary of this conversation," Charles made to move around Griffiths, but the infuriating traitor mirrored his movements, bringing him to a stop.

"I proposed to her," Griffiths said bluntly, causing Charles to grit his teeth so hard that his jaw cracked.

"Congratulations," Charles spat sarcastically.

"She said she'd only agree on a date for the wedding if I could get you to talk to her, so she can apologize," Griffiths' tone was soothing, which only angered Charles more.

"I will not subject myself to such torture only to make her feel better," his voice had gone quiet, "I am not a tool to be used for her redemption.  And you should recognize that she's using you too, dangling a reward over your head so you'll do her bidding."

"It's not like that!" shouted Griffiths.

"Oh, isn't it?" Charles asked saccharinely, a modicum of satisfaction surfacing through the vindication.

"Fuck off, Charles, we love each other."

"You deserve each other," Charles sneered, trying again to walk around Griffiths.

"Just, please, talk to her? Only for a second."

Charles whirled on Griffiths, his vitriolic tone striking as if his words were physical blows, "That woman already took every last second from me that she could, all that I have to give, there is nothing left for her to claw away at.  You use these words of 'love' and 'apologies', but you don't know anything about them.  If you did, you wouldn't have slept with my wife behind my back, in our bed.  And we wouldn't be here having this vexatious conversation right now.  Come to think of it, how did you even find me?"

"Not that you made it easy," replied Griffiths haughtily as he crossed his arms, "But your Mam posted some photos of you on Facespace, proud mother that she is, and I pieced it together from there.  And I got your phone number from someone in your office, I just had to pretend to be a client."

"Iesu mawr," he cursed, internally vowing to have a chat with both his mother and Lucy.

"It's just one phone call," Griffiths pleaded, holding up his cellphone, "It'll only take a few seconds."

"And as I've already said," Charles spoke deliberately, "I have no more time to waste on her whims.  Now get out of my way, this unpalatable discourse is over, I am finished."

Charles' fencer feet were at work as he quickly sidestepped Griffiths' outstretched hand and headed toward his car.

"There's someone new, isn't there?" Griffiths called out to his back, grasping at straws; it seemed to do the trick, as Charles froze where he stood.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he snapped, not turning around.

"I can see it in your face.  Don't forget I knew you well, Charles, we were best friends after all.  Hell, remember that heart-to-heart we had while I tied your bowtie at the wedding?"

"Don't pretend to know me," Charles growled, "I'm not that man anymore."

"Is it the cute brunette with the glasses? Stutters a little bit?" Griffiths ventured a guess, hitting the nail right on the head.

"What do you know of her?" Charles asked as he spun around, his tone of voice one that screamed danger.

"I met her earlier coming out of your office, sweet little thing," replied Griffiths, oblivious to the frigid air emanating from Charles' rigid posture, "I asked her to be my tour guide actu-"

His words were cut off as Charles' fist met with his face in a hard blow, drawing blood from both of them, the 'crunch' of Griffiths' nose echoing across the garage as he fell to the ground.

"MotherFUCK," yelled Griffiths, hand covering his nose as he looked up at the blond, "I think you broke my nose...you must really love glasses chick."

"I'm sure I don't know what you're dithering on about," Charles sneered, gingerly holding his hand, eyeing the few small cuts on his knuckles.

"When you found me and Gwen, you just walked away.  But one mere mention of your girl now and I'm on the ground with a broken nose," Griffiths sat up, voice muffled by his hand.

"Yes, well, mention her again, and it won't be just your nose I break," the flash of pure rage in Charles' eyes was enough to keep Griffiths quiet, "And I suggest you remain on the ground, else I'll be tempted to run you over.  Understand?"

Griffiths nodded silently and watched Charles get into his car, peeling out of the parking lot to the sound of screeching tires and the smell of burnt rubber.

Charles drove likely the fastest he ever had back to his apartment building, managing to hold his anger in check until the elevator opened to his floor.  The second he was in his apartment, he let out a yell of frustration, of hurt, of pent-up rage.  He slammed his already injured fist into the wall, exhaling sharply through the pain.  His bloodied, swelling fingers grasped at his tie, roughly tugging it loose and throwing it onto the floor, his jacket following suit.  He felt another wave of fury encompass him; at Gwen for cheating on him, at Griffiths for betraying him and being here now, and at himself for how much he'd obviously grown attached to Sam. 

He made straight for his bar cabinet, pulling out a crystal tumbler.  He caught a glimpse of his reflection on its surface and, disgusted with the man he saw looking back at him, he hurled it against the nearest wall, a bittersweet gratification in the way it shattered to the floor.  The destruction soothed his ire a fraction, so he decided to one-up it.  He grabbed a chair from the dining table, throwing it into the living room area where it landed on its side; disappointing.  He threw another, this one knocking into the patio window, cracking it.  A third one ended up on the kitchen floor, the tip of one of the legs splintered.  Yet he still felt empty, incomplete, broken, like he’d brought about his own demise by simply caring.  It wasn’t enough, all of the carnage in the world wouldn’t be enough to fill the void he’d perpetuated within himself.  He went back to the bar cabinet and pulled out the bottle of Lewis XIII, the heft of it in his hands grounding him for a second…but only a second…

Sam had called for a Ryde over to Charles', knowing he would be upset if she took the bus, and wanting to keep the lighthearted mood from earlier going.  The doorman greeted her and let her in, recognizing her from previous occasions, and she rode the elevator up to Charles' apartment.  As she walked toward his door, she heard him shout, followed by a series of crashing sounds.  Alarmed, she tried the handle and, finding it unlocked, walked in to see his apartment in disarray; chairs on the floor, broken glass, a caramel-coloured liquid seeping across the tiles, drops of blood. 

She quickly locked the door behind her and followed the trail of ruin to see Charles stood in the kitchen, facing the wall.  He was visibly trembling, standing stockstill in his shoes - thankfully - on the broken glass littering the floor.  His hands were clenched into fists, one of them dripping blood and covered in angry bruises; it didn't seem as though he'd heard her walk in.  She dropped her things to the floor and walked over to him, her shoes crunching on the glass as she slowly approached.  He still hadn't made any movement, even as she stood right behind him.  She threw her arms around his middle, simply holding him to her as she rested her forehead against his back, her voice murmuring, "It's okay, let it out, you're safe...you're safe here with me."

As she repeated the words several times, he started to shake violently, almost as if he were cold, Sam only tightening her grip.  She could hear his ragged breathing speed up, then slow down, the tremors fading and his posture relaxing.  When he seemed to be a bit less angry than before, she gently released her hold and grabbed his fingers, pulling him to follow her.  He complied, almost despondently, across the broken glass, skirting the cognac puddle, around the chairs, to the couch in his sitting room; an area which remained largely undisturbed.  She guided him to sit on the couch then kneeled down on the floor in front of him.  She tenderly removed his shoes and socks, placing them off to the side, taking her own off as well.  Then she planted her palms on Charles' knees and looked up at his face.  He seemed incredibly far away, so she reached up and ran her hands through his hair, her fingernails lightly scraping his scalp.

"I'm here," she whispered, a tear tracking across her cheek, "I'm here with you."

She repeated her motions, more tears falling on noting he wasn't even crying himself, 'I'll cry for you,' she thought.  Finally, his blue eyes - currently dulled and lacking their normally vibrant hue - swam into focus and centered on her.

"You're crying," he stated simply, swiping her tear away with his thumb.

"So are you," she replied, her breath hitching as, indeed, a tear had escaped his eye.

"Why are you here with me?" he almost whispered, sounding fractured, just as Sam's heart was in that moment; breaking for him.

She took a second to answer, gathering her thoughts, "...because I see you, Charles."

His eyes searched hers and seemed to find what they were looking for as he closed the gap between them and kissed her.  It was a hard kiss, desperate, passionate, needy.  The fingers of his uninjured hand buried themselves in her hair and pulled her as close as he could get her; yet still not close enough.  Her hands went to unbutton his vest and dress shirt, able to do it quickly this time, divesting him of the garments and dropping them on the couch.  He tugged at the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head hurriedly, unclasping her bra in one fluid motion.  She pulled it off her arms and he kissed her again, his tongue coming into play as he shifted them both to the floor, landing a bit hard in the rush of his need to be inside of her, to have her surrounding him. 

His movements were clumsy yet driven as he unbuttoned and yanked off her pants and underwear all at once, trying to avoid using his bruised hand.  His fingers went straight for her clit, rubbing rough circles over her, eliciting a need of her own, heightened by his teeth on her neck.  She reached down and unfasted his pants, pushing them down as far as she could, Charles almost ripping them off the rest of the way before settling between her legs as she wrapped them around his waist.  He trailed his lips over her skin until they once again met hers fiercely, rocking his hips so that his length dragged through her folds, her moans echoing in the heavy silence.  He then pressed his forehead to hers, their gazes locked as he adjusted his angle and slid into her swiftly, landing hard as their pelvises crashed together. 

"Ah!" she cried out, feeling a heady mixture of pleasure and pain.

He drew back and then thrusted again, hitting just as deep, unrelenting.  His lips captured hers again, craving her touch any way he could get it, while his hips continued pistoning in a brutal rhythm.  He held himself up with his forearms while he deepened the kiss, tongue sliding into her mouth to meet hers.  She bit his lower lip, and he nipped her earlobe, both a bit harder than they normally would as they began riding toward their joint peak.  Sam started bucking her hips in time with his thrusts, pulling him deeper inside her, the welcoming sound of their colliding bodies filling the room. 

Sam reached between them to swipe across her clit in time with their beat, panting around the words "Charles, I'm so close.”

In response, he increased both his speed and force, a small part of his mind worried he would break her; though it was eclipsed by his urgent need for her, his desire to keep her close; to ‘make her mine'.  Sam's motions faltered and her jaw dropped slightly as she whimpered, "Oh Charles, I'm coming," clinging to his shoulders as she rode out her orgasm beneath him.  With the feel of her walls pressing around him, her hanging onto him, her lips against his, Charles was forcefully thrown into his own climax, releasing himself inside of her.  The intimacy of the moment was inherently strong, and he felt another few tears roll down his cheeks as they lay together on the floor, his face buried into her neck.  When he felt he had a little more control over himself again, Charles rolled to his side and sat up, helping Sam to a sitting position as well.

"I'm sorry," he rasped, "I shouldn't-"

"No," Sam brought her finger to his lips, "I'm happy I could be here for you.  I only wish I had gotten here sooner."

"I'm not sure that would have been particularly safe," he gestured to the mess in his kitchen.

"I always feel safe around you, Charles," she murmured, reaching up to smoothen the creases between his eyebrows.

He leaned into her touch, letting himself take a moment to just be there with her.

"Does this...I ran into someone outside of the office when I l-left today..." Sam trailed off.

"Brown hair? Welsh accent? A face you just want to punch?" prompted Charles.

"Yes, actually," Sam nodded, then turned her gaze to his face as she cupped his jaw, "It was Griffiths wasn't it?"

"Yes," Charles sighed heavily.

"I knew I should have cancelled my appointment and turned back, or at least warned you...he gave me such bad vibes.  But I didn't put the pieces together until later..."

Charles gripped her chin, pressing a firm kiss to her lips before responding, "This was not your fault, Samara.  It's his, and Gwen's...and mine."

"Charles, it's not your fault either," Sam admonished him gently, "You didn't ask for any of this."

"Didn't I? I am certainly at fault for falling in l-" he caught himself at the last second, "L-line...with the wrong people."

If Sam had figured out what he'd almost said, she didn't show it, "Well, my mom always said, 'The heart wants what it wants, regardless of how the brain feels about it."

"And I wonder how your mother would feel about what's happened between us," he gestured between them.

Sam still wasn't sure exactly how he felt about her, despite his slip-ups, but decided that now wasn't the time to press, "I think she knows already."

"Oh?" asked Charles with a half-smile, "Should I prepare to be deported?"

"No," Sam giggled, placing her hand atop his uninjured one where it rested on her thigh, "She's very much a romantic.  Plus, she's the one who encouraged me to talk to Ruth about birth control," Sam's mind momentarily flashed back to the conversation she'd had with the woman she already considered a sister, and how reassuring she'd been.

"Perhaps I should just take all of the females in your life out to the spa or something," Charles chuckled, "They all seem to be doing me favours."

"They can tell I care about you...a lot," Sam's cheeks reddened and she leaned up to plant a kiss on his cheek.

"The feeling is mutual," he replied, resting his chin on her head as he held her close.

They sat that way for a moment, then Sam spoke, "Charles...are you okay?"

"More so since you got here," he murmured into her hair.

"I mean it though," she raised her head so their eyes met.

"I'm...processing," he replied hesitantly, "Griffiths wanted me to talk to Gwen, allow her to apologize."

"He...he wanted you to talk to someone who betrayed you just so she could feel better? That seems pretty selfish," a bit of anger on Charles' behalf crept into her voice.

Charles stared at her oddly, earning a meek, "What?"

"I expressed roughly the very same sentiments to Griffiths," he answered, running his fingers through her hair.

Sam suddenly remembered his injured hand and picked it up, examining it, "So, did you hit him?"

"Yes," replied Charles, leaving out the exact reason why, "He wouldn't leave well enough alone."

Sam pressed gentle kisses to the unbruised areas of his hand, her lips brushing his skin as she said, "You can always talk to me, i-if you ever need to."

"I know," he said softly, "And when I'm ready, I will."

Sam nodded and made to get up, but was tugged back against Charles, his arm wrapping around her so his fingers could tilt her head upward for one more kiss.  She returned it and then they finally stood together, surveying Charles' apartment.

"Let's deal with your hand first," Sam suggested, "Then we'll clean up the rest."

"Probably a sound plan," Charles agreed, pulling his boxer briefs back on.

Sam put on her underwear and tugged Charles' dress shirt over arms, while he did up the buttons for her.

"Do you have a first aid kit?" she asked.

"Yes, in the guest bathroom," he answered, "I'll go get it."

Sam slipped her shoes on as he walked away, finding a broom in his linen closet and starting to sweep up the glass.  Charles was back quickly with the kit and she opened it, rifling through for supplies.  She selected some squares of gauze, a tube of antibiotic ointment, and a waterproof wrapping.  She took great care in cleaning his wounds with some anti-septic wipes, inspecting his lacerations for glass shards, but finding none.  Once satisfied, she applied the ointment to the gauze before placing it so each wound was covered, then securing it all with the wrap; Charles’ eyes on her the entire time. 

She looked up at him when she was finished, blushing at the appreciative smile he gave her accompanied by a hushed “Thank you, Bunty.”  He packed up the kit and as he walked back toward the stairs, she picked up the broom once again.  Her sweeping was interrupted when the sound of her phone ringing blared across the room.  She quickly walked over to where she'd dropped her things onto the floor, fishing her phone out of her bag.  Her brother's name came up on the screen and Sam momentarily debated answering it.  She glanced around, noting Charles was still upstairs, and accepted the call, thinking it would be about setting up a family dinner or something.

"Hi Jay-Jay," she said, walking back over to the kitchen.

"Don't you 'Hi Jay-Jay' me, Samara Young," his tone was harsh, angry.

"W-what do you mean?" she asked, confused, not noticing Charles silently leaning against the wall nearby.

"I saw an interesting consult pop up on your eChart today, from an OB/GYN..." Jay's voice was disconcertingly quiet

"What? Why were you-"

"Birth control, Sam? Are you having sex?" he practically whispered the last two words.

"How is that any of your busin-"

"Is it…it had better not be Charles," Jay said warningly.

"And so what if it is?" Sam retorted defensively.

"Is this what you meant when you said you wanted to figure out what type of person Charles is? By letting him screw you?"

"Now wait, back up, what were you doing-"

"Sam I told you he's shady and manipulative, and you let him use you!"

Sam spun on her heel and, on seeing Charles watching her, she put the phone on speaker, wanting him to hear precisely what she thought of him.

"I forbid you from continuing to see him," Jay finished off his tirade.

"Forbid me?" Sam's voice was low, quiet, and held a rage that Charles had never thought her capable of, "You have absolutely no say over what I do.  You claim to be 'looking out for me', but here you are, creeping on my medical reports and using them to peek into my personal life and form your own judgments," the volume in her voice began ramping up, "Which honestly leaves me feeling quite violated, especially when my sex life is 100% none of your concern."

Sam marched over so she was standing in front of Charles, their eyes locked as she continued, "Yes, I am with Charles, and to be perfectly honest, I'm loving every minute of it," she saw the Welshman's cheeks flush, "I care about him deeply, and maybe if you could actually get over your preconceived prejudice and petty grudges, and just pull your head out of your high and mighty ass, you would see that.  I don't know what it was Charles did to make you dislike him so much and I don't care.  I know him, far better than you do, and I have enough faith in him to know he likely had his reasons."

"I-" Jay tried to interject, but Sam wasn't finished.

"I don't want to hear it, Jay.  Y'know, not even dad would stoop this low, and that's saying something."

"Just-"

"No, Jay.  This conversation is over, I will talk to you when I'm ready.  And in the meantime, I want your access to my chart revoked - and I'll check with Ruth that it's done.  I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to look into your family members' medical reports either.  You're lucky I don't report you for what I'm sure is a gross violation of patient confidentiality, but know that I won't hesitate if you ever pull a stunt like this again."

She hung up angrily and tossed her phone onto the kitchen bar, raking a hand through her hair.  She jumped when she felt long slender fingers grasp her own, looking up to see Charles regarding her with an expression she felt more than saw.  He tugged her arm, pulling her behind him as he silently made for the stairs, pausing at the bottom so she could toe off her shoes.  He felt incapable of expressing himself verbally in that moment, so would rely on his actions to try to help her understand what her words meant to him.  She followed him, hands linked, up the stairs and to his guest bathroom.  He stepped onto the gray tile and turned on the water for the shower, a cloud of steam immediately building up. 

He turned back to Sam and tenderly removed her glasses from her face, setting them on the counter.  Next, he slowly unbuttoned the shirt she was wearing, sweeping it over her arms and letting it drift to the floor.  He kissed each of her shoulders, then continued a trail downward, past her navel, kissing down her leg as he pulled her panties down to the floor.  He stood and moved into the shower first, holding out his hand to pull her in to join him once he felt the temperature of the water was decent.  His hand cupped the side of her face and angled her so their lips met, drinking in her kiss as the hot water ran in rivulets over their bodies.  Her arms wrapped around his torso, holding him to her as she stood on her tiptoes and deepened the kiss.  She reached up and wiped the water from his eyes, brushing his damp hair aside. 

He reached for the shelf and grabbed the shampoo bottle, pouring some into his hands and indicating for her to tilt her head back.  He lathered it into her locks, gently massaging her scalp, ensuring he'd gotten every strand before guiding her beneath the steady stream of water and rinsing the suds out.  He then repeated the process with the conditioner, Sam humming in contentment as his hands worked magic in her hair.  Once that had been rinsed away, he leaned out and grabbed a cloth from the counter.  He moistened it and applied a vanilla body wash, working it in before beginning to rub it over Sam's skin.  He took his time, cleansing every spot of her, including kneeling down on the tile to wash her feet, Sam leaning on him for balance.  Again, he guided her into the water, rinsing the last of the soap from her skin, tenderly, intimately, lovingly.  He kissed her again, and would have left things at that, except Sam then reached for the shampoo as she said, "Your turn."

He lowered his head for her, and she moved just as deliberately.  She washed his blond tresses, rubbing circles into his scalp with her fingertips, feeling him relax beneath her hands.  When ready, he tilted his head back, letting the water run the product out, Sam's eyes tracing its path as it streamed over his chest.  She repeated the process with his conditioner, feeling it must be why his hair was always so soft.  Once that was rinsed, she used the same cloth to wash him, ensuring to get everywhere, just as he had with her.  Though when she moved toward his groin, having saved it for last, she dropped the cloth and used her hand to stroke along his length, feeling him harden in response to her ministrations. 

She looked up and his lips were on hers, tongues meeting, water cascading over them.  Charles made sure to completely rinse the soap off of them both before he turned her to face the wall of the shower, guiding her to plant her palms on it as he nudged her legs apart with his foot.  He ran his hands from hers down over her shoulders, along her back, over her rear, and down her thighs, then sat on the tile below her, sliding between her legs so that his mouth lined up perfectly with her core.  His lips closed around her clit, her hips bucking in reaction, his tongue painting circles across her engorged flesh.  He could feel her legs shaking already, changing the pattern of his tongue movements as he brought up two fingers and slid them inside of her.

"Oh!" she cried, her eyes meeting his as he slid his digits in and out of her, his tongue and lips creating a concordant melody. 

A few more pumps and he removed his fingers from her, running his tongue fully and firmly along her entrance, flicking her clit with it before standing.  He moved behind her, adjusting so that his shaft pressed flat against her folds, inciting a heated friction as he bent over to kiss the skin between her shoulder blades.

"Please," she whimpered, moving her hips so she could glide along him.

He didn't wait any longer to grant her request, wanting it, needing it more than he felt he could convey.  He drew his hips back and steadied hers with his hands before pushing into her, his pelvis resting against her rear as he filled her.  She moaned, as did he, her head dropping forward when he repeated the motion.  With his good hand, he reached around to rub her clit as he set his rhythm, the other lightly gripping her neck.  He dipped his head to nip the flesh at the curve of her shoulder, following it with a soothing kiss, comforted by the feel of his chest against her back.  His thrusts grew harder, accompanied by a twist of his hips, drawing a sob from Sam.  She turned her head so their lips met, passionate, fiery, warm, familiar.  The sensations, the sound of the water, the emotional turmoil they'd both just shared, all heightened the experience to a point that it was almost too much...almost.  Sam felt Charles growing close to his finish in the way his rhythm faltered, how his breaths caught, just as she was approaching her own.

"Come with me," she murmured against his lips, the command followed by a cry as she hit her peak, feeling Charles find his as well.  A sharp final thrust, a liquid warmth inside of her, and a sense of release, relief in the air all comprised a moment Sam would forever solidify within her mind, no matter what came next.  He pulled out from her and she turned around, hand on the back of his neck, tugging him down to kiss her.  She didn't care that steam filled the room, nor that her skin had become pruny from the moisture.  All that mattered was him and how he felt in her arms, how his arms felt around her.

"I..." he tried to say something, but couldn't seem to finish.

"I know," she nodded, hand over his heart, able to feel the strong, steady beat.

They stood like that a few moments, until Sam's stomach growled loudly, echoing around the shower.  Charles laughed, fully, and Sam couldn't help but join in, both with tears streaming from their eyes that blended with the water.  When their chuckles petered out, Charles smiled at her, "Why don't we order in?"

"Perfect," she smiled, "And we can clean up downstairs while we wait."

"Now that is a good plan, efficient," he kissed her nose.

Even so, they stood together just a few moments longer, both reluctant to leave the charged atmosphere, both unsure.  They both knew something had changed, and how it would come about when they left the warm confines of the water was anyone's guess.

Chapter Text

Music suggestion:  At the words "Her words hit him and he leaned forward..." https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eYAQeV9Z00M 

"Here you go," said Matt Whittaker as he tossed a set of keys to his brother, Darin.

"Thanks," Darin replied, pocketing them.

"Just make sure to have it back to me by the weekend," Matt called out before going back into his house.

"Sure thing," Darin responded absently, climbing into his brother’s large black pickup truck and driving off.

As he drove, Darin thought over the sequence of unfortunate events that had befallen him since he'd been laid off from NexTek.  After telling his wife that he was now unemployed, she'd left, having only been staying with him for his pension.  Not long after that, she'd challenged him for custody of their kids, and would probably win.  The final nail in the coffin was when his townhouse had been flooded by a burst pipe, the water destroying everything he'd had, all of his most prized possessions (not to mention the cost of the repairs was more than he could afford).  He was a divorcee in the making, a soon-to-be absent father, damn near broke, and lower than the bottom of the barrel.  He was a man pushed to and well over the edge, his anger simmering into a slow boil as the days wore on.  At first, he'd been able to somewhat stave off his deep-set need for revenge, stopping himself from taking it out on those he saw as responsible.  But as knife after knife twisted into his back, he'd let the rage take over, consuming him.  Knowing precisely who was to blame for his abysmal state of affairs, he'd begun to make, prepare, and carry out a plan.  Granted, it was reckless, and not on as big a scale as he’d wanted...Nonetheless, it would soon come to fruition.

---

Sam felt like she'd been holding her breath for ages, when in fact, it had only been a few seconds since she and Charles had stepped out of the shower.  A cold unease had settled over her while Charles turned off the water and pulled out some fluffy gray towels, handing one to her.  She was worried she had delved too deeply into his personal space, had laid too much on the line.  Usually when people had breakdowns such as he had, they didn't want others to bear witness; she, herself, had felt that way about her own moments of emotional instability.  She swallowed nervously as she toweled herself off, jumping violently when she felt the soft fabric of Charles' towel swipe across her upper back.

"You missed a spot, Bunty," he murmured near her ear, bending to kiss her shoulder.

She turned her head to respond, but found herself unable to when his lips covered hers.  His kiss bore a sensation of comfort, swiftly dispelling her previously distressing thoughts.  She felt him grab her towel and wrap it around her body, his arms following the motion until they fully encircled her.  He held her back against his chest, and she reached a hand behind her to stroke his hair, her other gripping his fingers.

"I won't feign apathy, not after what you just saw," Charles murmured against her cheek, "But you must know, I...I need you to know, that I care for you as well..."

Sam closed her eyes, feeling his voice reverberate through her as he continued, "Bearing in mind my past iniquities, and knowing I will likely hurt you in future - not that I intend to now - I thought you should hear it.  And even so, I'm...conflicted.  My habitual shortcomings keep trying to drag me backward, while my damned foolhardy heart keeps leaping forward...and I find myself at a loss." 

"That's a very long-winded way of saying you're confused, Charles," Sam smiled, turning in his embrace so she could drape her arms around him, lightly stroking the nape of his neck.

"I do recall you once saying I'm full of hot air," he smiled in return, touching his nose to hers.

"I said you're full of something," she replied, lightly bunting her forehead against his.

"That something being piss and vinegar, it would seem," he joked awkwardly.

"Charles," she whispered, gripping his chin, "I really do appreciate your honesty."

"Well, you did tell me to talk to you if I ever felt uncomfortable," he shrugged, fingers tracing over her hips, "Though in this case, perhaps it's more disconcert than discomfort."

Sam stood on her tiptoes and kissed him firmly, pouring herself into it in a way she was otherwise unable to express.  She got the feeling he was at the end of his articulative abilities for now, and she wanted to show him that that was alright.  His fingers threaded through her still wet hair as he pulled back, looking at her one last time before saying, "Let's get you fed, shall we?"

"Oh, I dunno," she teased, turning to rub her head with another towel and put her glasses back on, "You've already fed me quite a bit."

"And are you satiated?" he asked, eyebrow raised as she pivoted to look at him, whipping off the towel from around her body.

"Not one bit," her voice was low and husky.

She watched his gaze rake over her hungrily before spinning and doing her best to sashay seductively from the bathroom, grabbing his shirt and her panties on the way.  She threw them on in the hallway and left her hair loose, perfectly aware that the water still dripping from her strands left two very transparent areas on the white dress shirt, in very convenient locations.  She made sure to face the bathroom door as she did up the buttons, pretending not to notice when Charles walked out.  She heard silence, then rapid footsteps toward her, then his hands were on her fingers, stopping her from fastening the button she was on.

"I have half a mind to undo those," he murmured, his towel slipping from his slim hips to the floor, Sam able to see where the rest of his thoughts had gone.

She gripped his palm and brought it to her lips, kissing it gently, "We need to clean up first, then...you can do whatever you want with me."

"Vixen," he growled, dipping his head to lick the shell of Sam's ear, causing her to second-guess what she'd just said, especially when his deep baritone added, "I'll hold you to that."

She took a deep breath, then laced her fingers through his, leading him down the stairs behind her.  They called for delivery from Sushi Eleven, Sam blushing when she'd overheard Charles ordering extra sesame balls, and began cleaning up.  Sam swept the glass while Charles mopped up the cognac, letting out soft sighs of regret over the very expensive puddle.  He picked up a large fragment of the Lewis XIII bottle, eyeing it somewhat longingly before taking it over to the garbage can under the sink.  Just after he tossed it, he heard a soft, "W-where would you like this?"

He turned to see Sam, the chain carrying that accursed band of metal he'd been allowing to weigh him down for years hanging from her fingers, a look of uncertainty on her face.  He held out his hand and she walked over, placing it gently into his palm.  He stared at it for a second, trying to remember exactly why he'd kept it, but in that moment, was seemingly unable to.  He clenched his hand into a fist around what had become a meaningless totem, then held it over the garbage can.  He opened his hand and let both ring and chain fall, feeling a sense of lightness accompany the 'clink' of his burden hitting the pail below.  He looked up to see Sam smiling, her eyes shining as she'd watched him.  She leaned forward and lightly kissed his cheek before continuing to sweep.  Charles exhaled fully then closed the cupboard door, walking over to right his upended dining room chairs, and making a list of what would need repairing.  By the time they finished, the sushi had arrived and they sat at the dining table on the undamaged chairs, the spread of the meal reminiscent of their previous sushi dinner.

"I see you're using chopsticks this time," Sam commented as she popped some sweet potato tempura into her mouth.

"I am," he nodded, using the very utensils to pick up a sesame ball, bringing it to Sam's mouth, "And I remember these being quite delicious."

Sam opened her mouth, purposely taking more of the chopsticks in than was needed, making a big show of sliding her lips along them.  She smirked as she saw Charles' dilated pupils, then picked up a piece of sashimi and fed it to him.  They continued eating, feeding each other now and then, until they were full, placing the leftover food into the fridge.

"How's your hand?" she asked, gently gripping it and bringing it to her mouth, lips resting against his bandaged knuckles.

"Much better.  Icing it was a good call, Bunty," he replied tenderly, then took her hands in his, tone a bit shy as he asked "Would...would you sit with me?"

"Okay," she nodded, following him to the living room.  

He tugged his small couch - one that held some good memories for Sam - over by the fireplace, tossing several logs into the hearth.  As the flames began to blaze merrily, he sat on the loveseat and beckoned for Sam to join him.  She came to stand in front of him and he pulled her down onto his lap so that she was sitting across his thighs, cradled in his arms.  For a while, she simply observed him as he watched the fire, the flickering glow reflected in his eyes lending them a fiery hue.  She almost jumped when he spoke, having grown accustomed to the silence.

"I'm sorry I can't be more forthright," he sighed wearily, his hand sliding up her back to rest between her shoulder blades, absent-mindedly rubbing circles with his thumb.

"You can only speak on what you know, really," she replied, stroking his cheek, "It's hard to tell someone what you're feeling when you don't fully understand it yourself, t-trust me I know."

"You're very astute, Bunty," he murmured, looking down at her face.

"Well, I have learned a lot from you," she blushed.

"You're sure it doesn't bother you?" he asked, eyes still on hers, shadows dancing across his features.

Sam took a deep breath as she considered the question, answering him with, "As long as you always try to be honest with me, just as you appreciate my honesty, then I'm happy.  I...I know things haven't necessarily come easy for you, Charles, but I am here, for you, with you."

"And loving every minute of it?" he smirked, gently kissing her forehead.

"You got it," she giggled, curling further into him.

There was silence another moment until Charles spoke again, his voice quiet, "For what it's worth, I'm here for you too."

"I know," she smiled, "I think you have been all this time."

Her words hit him and he leaned forward, nudging her cheek with his nose so she would tilt her face upward.  Their lips met and the resultant kiss was light and sweet, and then the tides turned and they sank into one another by the fathoms.  His hand on her upper back moved to cup the back of her head while hers gripped his blond locks and pulled him deeper.  The fingers of his free hand traveled up her thigh, gliding over her hip, and began undoing the buttons on the shirt she wore.  He made quick work of the fastenings and lightly swept his thumb over her nipple, feeling it stiffen beneath his attentions.  A pinch, a roll, a tug; a sigh fell from Sam's lips as his fingers worked, she writhing against him, feeling how he was affected by her.  His smooth voice in her ear had her eyes fluttering shut as he said, "Now, I believe you said I can do whatever I want with you?"

"Y-yes," she exhaled, squirming as his fingers drifted south.

"Well in that case," he lifted her off of his lap and onto the seat beside him, whipping her panties off her legs before pulling some cushions from the couch to the floor and laying on his back on them, "I want your lips on mine."

Sam blushed and got down to the ground, dragging her tongue along his skin as she crawled up toward his head, kissing him soundly.

"Not those lips," he murmured against her, gripping her upper arms and guiding her further.

Sam's cheeks went from pink to crimson as she inferred his meaning, immensely turned on by both his tone and the memory of the last time.  She carefully moved so that she was straddling his face, holding herself aloft and leaning back to rest her hands on his chest for extra support.

"And Samara," he looked up at her as he licked a line along her slit, smirking at her gasp, his voice commanding, "Don't hold back."

Then, he pulled her right down onto him and plunged his tongue inside of her, causing Sam to shiver with pleasure, her head jerking back.  Hesitantly at first, she gently moved against his face, moaning as she felt his tongue roving over her with a dexterity rivalling his fingers; inside, along her folds, around her clit, back inside.  Her fingers dug into his chest as he brought an arm around her thigh, his thumb massaging her small bundle of nerves while his tongue thrusted into her.  He seemed to find a spot that struck deep, causing Sam to lurch forward and start rocking her hips with vigor. 

She was unable to control her motions as she rapidly approached climax, his tongue and the vibration of his moan against her pushing her clean off the edge.  She shook as he continued running his tongue over her, holding her to him when she tried to leverage herself off.  Since he held her fast, she leaned back and gripped his aching length, stroking him firmly until his hips started lifting off the floor, thrusting against her hand.  He quickly encircled her clit with his mouth and gave a good hard suck, causing her to halt in her motions as a cry erupted from her.  He gently eased her off of him and stood, helping her to her feet before walking across the room. 

He pulled his ottoman close to the fire, perching on its edge and beckoning for her to go to him.  She did so, straddling his legs when she got there, trapping his erect cock between them.  He kissed her, deeply, and she slowly rose to standing, feeling him position his length beneath her.  Inch by inch she sank, until about halfway when she surprised him by letting gravity bring her straight down onto him.  They groaned in concert as her cheeks met his thighs with a loud 'smack'.  He grabbed her rear and pulled her even more firmly against him, whispering, "Wrap your legs around me," into her ear.  She threw her arms around his neck and complied, locking her ankles behind him, resting them on the ottoman's surface.  He buried his face into her neck as he lifted her up off of his member, sliding her back down in a leisurely fashion, achingly so.  He kept the pace, gradually driving Sam mad with need as she squirmed against him, trying to push off the ottoman to gain some ground.

"So eager," he panted, pulling her fully onto him once more.

"You j-just feel so good," she breathed, nipping the pulse point on his neck, enjoying the sharp intake of breath she caused.

"As...do you...Bunty," he grunted, each set of words punctuated with a thrust.

She kissed him hard and he picked up the pace, driving her down onto his cock, their breathing harsh.  Sam bit his lower lip and felt his rhythm judder beneath her, doing her best to flex the muscles currently surrounding his shaft.  He cried out and she caught his gaze, eyes reflecting her determination as she murmured, "Come for me, Charles."

"Oh fuck," he moaned, overwhelmed by her commanding tone, the need in her eyes, how she felt around him.  He did as she asked, and seeing the pleasure on his face, feeling his release, and the chaotic depth of his final thrusts had Sam joining him in a bliss that transcended what she knew.  This time felt different, earnest, more whole in a way Sam couldn't fully describe, but could venture a guess as to what it meant.  She stroked Charles' hair as they slowly settled, he still chanting her name and she kissing his lips in between each utterance. 

They lost track of how long they stayed that way, but eventually a cramp in Sam's leg instigated a change in position.  She climbed off of him and stretched, purposely arching her back, not at all surprised when she felt his lips along the curves of her breasts.  

"Cachu," he suddenly exclaimed, drawing Sam's attention.

"What?" she asked, perplexed.

"It's 3 am Samara," he ran a hand through his hair, "We will be tired tomorrow."

"I, personally, don't care," she replied, moving to stand between his legs, arms draped over his shoulders, "This was worth the fatigue."

"Is that so?" he raised an eyebrow as he tilted his face up to her, receiving a kiss on the forehead.

"Yup," she nodded, lifting a hand to trace his cheekbone.

"I feel much the same," he almost whispered, leaning up to kiss her.

"Come," she said softly, interlacing her fingers with his and tugging him behind her.

He stopped to grab his phone and together they climbed the stairs, all the way up to his bedroom.  Charles gestured for Sam to use the washroom first, quickly cleaning herself and brushing her teeth.  While Charles took his turn, Sam crawled under the covers of his bed, burrowing down into the softness of what she had come to see as her side.  Charles walked back in and had to pause for a moment, peering through his glasses at the sight of Sam, naked and content in his bed.  'Our bed' some part of his mind corrected him, even as a small voice, one that had been growing quieter and quieter recently, piped up with 'She shouldn't be here'.  He observed her for a few more seconds until she opened her eyes to peek at him.

"You joining me or what?" she teased.

"I wouldn't dream of letting you sleep alone," he quipped, placing his glasses on the bedside table, turning out the lights and setting an alarm before pulling her to him.

She curled up against him, her hand relaxed on his chest while her head tucked into the perfect hollow by his shoulder.  Charles pressed a kiss to the top of her hair, inhaling the scent he saw as distinctly Sam.  

"Goodnight, Bunty," he whispered, bringing her just a bit closer.

"Sleep well, Charles," she replied, leaning up to kiss him before resettling.

They drifted off within minutes of each other, the warmth of their bodies and the security in each other's touch sending them peacefully into slumber.

Charles' alarm roused them both later that morning, each momentarily disoriented as they awoke entangled in the other's limbs.  There was a quick kiss between them before Sam went downstairs to where she'd left her things, Charles getting ready for the day and re-dressing his hand with a Tensor bandage.  Sam pulled some clean clothes out of her overnight bag, and gathered up the dirty ones still strewn about the living room.  Her phone fell out of the bundle, having tossed it near her clothes just before dinner had arrived the night before, and saw she had 4 missed calls from Jay, a text from Ruth, and another from Ms. Whipple.  She sighed and opened up the text from Ruth, reading, 'I overheard what happened, Sam, I'm so sorry.  Don't worry, he will NOT be let off lightly.  Call or text me anytime. Oh, and I've locked him out of your chart.'

Sam smiled at Ruth's words, resolving to call her later.  She looked at the message from Ms. Whipple and instantly felt her heart melt on seeing a picture of Bowser passed out on her landlady’s couch, a piece of popcorn balancing on his forehead.  The caption read, 'He's finished off my popcorn, cheeky boy.  I'll buy more on our walk later.  Take your time coming home, dear, you know I love spending time with him.' 

Sam texted a quick thanks back to Ms. Whipple as she went up to the guest bathroom.  She washed up and as she was dressing herself, realized she'd have to go back upstairs to grab her toothbrush.  A sudden knock made her jump and she opened the door to see Charles holding out her toothbrush, grinning, "Thought you might need this."

She plucked it from his fingers, eyes narrowed as she replied, "Can...can you read minds?"

He simply winked at her before heading downstairs, Sam staring after him as she walked backwards into the bathroom.  Once finished, she joined Charles in the kitchen, the smell of roasted red pepper, garlic, and bacon wafting through the air.

"What's for breakfast?" she asked, standing on her tiptoes to peer over his shoulder.

"A quiche I bought from a local bakery," he replied, turning his head to look at her and receiving a kiss on the cheek.

"It smells delicious," she commented, moving to grab some plates and utensils, and setting them on the table.

Charles watched as Sam hummed to herself, completely oblivious to how her familiarity with his living space, treating his home as if it were hers, overwhelmed him to the point where he had to look away lest he say something dangerous.  He pulled the quiche from the oven and placed it on a trivet to cool for a moment.  He gripped the edge of the counter, and leaned over it, taking a breath as his mind fought between panic and a surging need to tell her how he felt.  His inner turmoil suddenly ground to a halt when the image of a sleeping Bowser was placed in his line of sight.

"He went into a popcorn coma with Ms. Whipple again," Sam's giggle sounded from beside him.

He looked at her then the phone screen again, the corner of his mouth upturned in a smile as he held back the words that threatened to bubble up out of him.  Instead, he said "Well, we shall have to ensure we have popcorn next time we're at your place."

"You're so soft," Sam teased, turning to walk away.

She froze when she was suddenly bent over the counter beside the sink, Charles' blatant arousal pressed up against her rear, "Am I, Samara?" his smooth baritone sounded from behind her.  And just as quickly as he'd worked her up, he was gone, carrying the quiche over to the table.  She glared at his smirk and took her time before walking over to join him, waiting until he was already seated.  She made as if to pull out the chair beside him, then sat on his lap instead, intent on revenge.  She twisted so she could look back at him, receiving a raised eyebrow.

"Your lap just looked so comfortable," she replied innocently, cutting them each a piece of quiche, purposely moving around as much as possible.

She bit into a good forkful and moaned in delight, squirming as she did so.

"You seem to be enjoying yourself," he quipped, voice strained.

"I am.  It's not my most favourite seat, but you do need to eat breakfast," she replied coyly.

"I'd say you just put yourself on the menu," he rasped, leaning forward to sink his teeth into her bared shoulder.

Before he could move further, Sam's phone let out a loud blaring sound.

"Let me guess," he said exasperatedly, "Your 'Last Ditch' alarm?'"

"Yeah," she sighed, reluctantly hopping down from his lap and walking over to turn off the alarm on her phone.

"As much as I'd love to continue," he sighed, "I think being late two days in a row is something we should probably avoid."

"You're right," she agreed, helping to clear the table, "Perhaps tonight we can pick up where we left off?"

Sam blinked in surprised as Charles let out a loud groan of frustration, "I can't, I agreed to take over some fencing lessons for a colleague." 

"Tomorrow it is," Sam smiled as she tapped his nose, though inwardly she was disappointed.

"I will make it up to you," Charles murmured, pulling her against him, his hands gliding over her body as he kissed her neck.

"You'd better," she replied, stepping out of his embrace, "Now let's get going."

She managed to stifle a yelp when his palm playfully smacked her backside, turning to see him deliver a shrug that clearly said 'What?'

"You'll pay for that," she grumbled, grabbing her things and striding out the door.

"Oh I do hope so," he grinned, locking up behind them.

The drive was mostly done in comfortable silence, Sam's hand atop Charles', both reflecting over the previous evening.  Charles thought about how many times he'd almost expressed a sentiment he never thought he'd feel again, and Sam pondered how their connection seemed to have strengthened so much in such a short time.  She looked over at him, his focus on the road - or so she thought - and studied his profile; how his mouth more often seemed quirked in a smile, how his brow wasn't so creased as it had been, how his eyes were less glacial.  She wasn't so foolish as to assume, but she did hope that she had helped foster these changes in him.  Seeing him so at ease in contrast to how she'd found him the night before, she felt a comfort in it; that the shadows he perpetually cast himself into could, in turn, be cast away. 

"Find something of interest?" his voice broke through her thoughts and she realized she'd been staring at him all the way into the parking garage at work.  

"You," she responded, smiling.

"I'm much more interested in you," he commented as he parked, turning off the car and leaning toward her.

Charles was coming to adore the short, simple kisses just as much as all of the others, like it was a habit, like they were habitual.  He ran his gaze over her features, as if memorizing them, and stole one more kiss, reluctant to leave the car and have to force himself to keep his hands off of her.

"It's not too late to call in sick," she said softly.

"We can't," he sighed, "We've got a Zume meeting with Tekneeq today."

"Oh right," Sam grimaced, "That's a big contract too."

"It is indeed," he nodded, squeezing her fingers before exiting the vehicle, Sam following suit.

"See I told you! It wasn't as long this time" they heard a voice hiss nearby.

Charles silently approached where he suspected the source to be, peering around a concrete pillar by the car, Sam clinging to his arm and peeking around him.

"Ahem," he cleared his throat loudly, feeling satisfaction when both Lucy and Umed jumped in surprise.

"H-hey Charles," said Lucy sweetly.

"Do I want to know?" he asked exasperatedly, finger and thumb pinching the bridge of his nose.

"We were just..." Umed tried to come up with an excuse, but found he couldn't, shrinking under Charles' glare.

"Just spying on us?" prompted Charles.

"Well you didn't do anything to spy on," Lucy huffed as she turned to walk away, though not before firing over her shoulder, "At least not this time.  You might want to invest in tinted windows, Charles."

Charles' eyes went wide, Umed laughed and patted his Welsh friend on the shoulder, and Sam squeaked in response to Lucy's verbal delivery.

"Look on the bright side," said Umed as they walked toward the elevator, "At least there aren't any security cameras in this section."

After a successful Zume meeting, an office lunch, and an otherwise pretty uneventful day, Charles was closing out of his computer.  There was something to be said about having someone to see at the end of the day, or coming to see him.  More and more, he'd found himself looking forward to driving Sam home - or even more so, to his place - and sneaking in a few kisses, a touch, exchanging words, banter...hopes. 'Twpsyn' he cursed himself internally, 'you know how damning it is to hope'.  Nonetheless, he couldn't stop himself from doing just that, starting to consider going back on his words regarding commitment. 

He slipped on his jacket and walked out of his office, practically counting the steps to Sam's door, a mixture of apprehension and excitement rising within him.  He didn't have a word for the way his heart fluttered on seeing her, biting her lip as she read something on her screen, but flutter it did; despite his inner claims to the contrary.  He enjoyed just watching her, the simple pleasure in observing the way her eyes slid across the screen, and the microexpressions in her features as she read.  But nothing compared to how he felt when her eyes lifted to meet his, and an instant smile broke across her face.

"Almost done," her voice conveyed her happiness on seeing him, along with how she couldn't stop grinning.

It almost had him gripping the front of his chest when a flare of heat blazed within him, staving off the cold always threatening to creep back in and ensnare him again.  This time it stayed back, held at bay by the smile of the woman in front of him; it was a sensation that was simultaneously deeply familiar and refreshingly foreign.  That someone he clearly cared for, more than he'd ever admit, could be so utterly happy to see him, him.  He hadn't noticed her shut her laptop nor get up from her chair, his thoughts crashing to the forefront when her lips gently pressed to his.

"I suppose you want to drop me off?" she asked, eyebrow raised.

"Off a cliff, perhaps, with that impertinence," he teased.

"Well if that's how you feel, then I'll just-" she was cut off when he gripped her arm and spun her to him, hands sliding down her back to grip her ass, pulling her against him.

"I'd sooner," he paused to kiss her, "Carry you all the way home."

Charles was exuding an intensity not unlike the previous night, and Sam couldn't help but respond to it, clinging to his lapels and kissing him back heatedly.  A thought surfaced through the haze, however, and she said "Maybe we should take this away from the open doorway, y'know, before Lucy or Umed make more money off of us."

Charles laughed and slowly let his hands drop from her, gesturing for her to exit first, "After you, Bunty."

She gave him a mock curtsy and walked out, receiving a light slap to the backside as she moved to pass him.

"You s-seem to like doing that lately," she pointed out, cheeks red.

"I find I am unable to help myself," he murmured, catching her smile before she continued walking.

Sam waved goodbye to Lucy on the way out, with Charles close behind her.  Another fiery kiss in the empty elevator, fingers brushing as they walked to the car, lips crashing as soon as the doors were closed; a choreography they'd fallen into eagerly.  Their tongues met amidst bitten lips and kisses pressed against necks, earlobes, and jawlines.  Very begrudgingly, Charles pulled back from Sam's embrace, one hand in her hair while the other was curled beneath her thigh.

"I have to get to the fencing club," his voice very clearly showed his reluctance, "Despite how badly I'd prefer to be elsewhere."

"It's okay, Charles," Sam smiled, "We'll have tomorrow night."

"Yes," he exhaled, sitting back into his seat and starting the car, waiting until Sam's seatbelt was buckled before driving out.

"How many lessons do you have tonight?" she asked, hand unconsciously moving to its new spot on his.

"I'm not quite sure, tell you the truth," he said thoughtfully, "All I know is the first one starts at 5:30 pm."

"Seems a little blasé for someone as detail-oriented as you are," she teased.

"Yes, well, I've been a bit distracted as of late," he replied, throwing a look in her direction.

"Surely not by me," she said coquettishly, batting her lashes at him.

"Only by you," his voice was low.

"You love it," she laughed, covering up her reaction to his meaning.

"I do," he almost whispered, though not quietly enough to escape Sam's hearing.

All too soon, they were pulling up to Sam's building and Charles found himself hating that she would soon be out of his sight, 'You weak fool'.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" she asked, looking up at him, seeming nervous.

"I will be here bright and early," he smiled softly, leaning toward her just as she was towards him, their lips meeting in the middle, as they so often did.

He wouldn't deny that his mind had been toying with 'what if's' when it came to Sam, and every time, it played over the balanced give and take they seemed to share, the equal efforts.  Then she was pulling away from him and getting out of the car, waving goodbye, walking away.  In that second he panicked, suddenly overwhelmed by an uncertainty he couldn't fully place.  He swiftly hopped out and strode after her, catching up in seconds, the surprise on her face morphing to bewilderment as he spun her around, his voice unsure, "Samara, wait."

"W-what is it, Charles?" she asked, concerned brown eyes meeting anguished blues.

"I..." he swallowed hard, abruptly cursing himself for being so impulsive.

But Sam waited patiently, watching multiple emotions flicker across his features, until finally her heart dropped a fraction when he finished his sentence, "I just wanted one more kiss."

She merely smiled, tamping down her disappointment as she draped her arms over his shoulders and stood up on her toes to acquiesce to his request.  Soft, sweet, effortless; the moment solidified when a warm, strong gust of wind whipped around them, blowing Sam's hair in every direction, and dislodging some of Charles' locks as well.  The kiss lingered, just as Charles wished he could, but wouldn't, 'Give it up, give her up'.

You're going to be late," she admonished him, affectionately tapping his nose with hers, "And we both know how you feel about punctuality."

He smirked at her, pecking her lips one last time, then the back of her hand for good measure, "Using my own words against me, Bunty? That hardly seems fair."

"You're one to talk about fair, Mister Jones, you're always the first to play dirty," she teased.

"Me? Play dirty? Well I never," he replied in mock offense, hand over his chest.

Sam decided she wanted to give him a taste of what he'd done to her at breakfast, and not even half an hour ago on leaving work.  She pressed herself against him, her hand sliding down between them to cup the growing bulge in his pants, voice low, "Well you can play with me anytime."

She beat a hasty retreat, stepping back and grinning at his stricken expression.  "Have fun tonight," she giggled, winking at him over her shoulder as she walked into her apartment building.

Charles cleared his throat and let out the breath he'd been holding, willing his erection down as he got back in the car.  He shook himself before starting up and pulling away, grip on the steering wheel tighter than usual.  The sudden sound of his phone ringing through the car speakers cleared the rest of the haze from his thoughts and, on seeing the familiar name across the screen, he answered the call, a friendly voice sounding around him.

"Hey towhead," said Umed.

"Hello Umed," Charles smiled, despite himself, "What can I do for you?"

"You, uh, well you seemed off earlier today and I just wanted to make sure everything was aight," Umed sounded sheepish, but Charles appreciated his concern.

"I'm...touched you care," the Welshman replied genuinely.

"Yeah well, we are friends," Umed huffed, "Now spill."

"Griffiths confronted me yesterday," Charles sighed, though the sense of having someone to unload his dark thoughts to was comforting.

"I knew I should have had him deported," cursed Umed, "What happened?"

"He's...he and...Gwen are getting married," Charles answered, knuckles white.

"That's what he came to America for? To rub that in your face? What a jerk," Umed was clearly angry on Charles' behalf, and the blond found himself overwhelmed with gratitude for his friend.

"That, and to ask me to allow Gwen to apologize," Charles added.

"Esacuse me?!" Umed's outburst blared through the speakers, "She don't deserve even a single word, nay, letter from you, who does she think she is?"

"Someone who didn't destroy me, apparently," Charles replied sardonically.

"Deportation isn't good enough for that turd," Umed's tone was not one of goodwill, "I have a friend in NASA, I could probably get Griffiths tossed onto the next shuttle into space...Gwen too."

Charles laughed, buoyed by Umed's reaction, "If it makes you feel any better, I did break his nose."

"Yes!" Umed cheered, "That's my guy!"

The moment of connection had Charles accidentally recounting Griffiths' words, something suddenly clicking into place, "The thing is, it wasn't even about what he and Gwen did.  The traitorous cad mentioned Samara, and I...lost it..." he trailed off as the starkness of his words hit him square in the face.  Funny how strong denial can be, often enough for one to sweep glaringly obvious realizations under the proverbial carpet.

"That explains the Tensor bandage on your hand today," Umed observed, deciding to avoid the obvious, for now.

"Y-yes, I thought it better to cover up the bruises," Charles replied, a bit shaken.

"Lucy would have had a field day," laughed Umed.

"I've given that woman enough cannon fodder as it is," Charles rolled his eyes.

"But, you're okay though?" asked Umed.

"I wasn't," admitted Charles, "But…Samara helped me."

"Good," he could practically hear Umed nodding approvingly, "Now if only you could see how much you lo-"

"Sorry Umed, I've just pulled into the fencing club, must dash," Charles interrupted, reaching for the button to end the call.

"Ya okay there, bud," teased Umed, "Peace out."

Charles ended the call with a mixture of smile and grimace on his face, locking away his thoughts on the subject as he turned into the club's parking lot.

Sam had just walked back into her apartment, Bowser in the lead and heading straight for Princess Plum.  She had been thinking over all of her interactions with Charles as of late, particularly earlier, when he'd gotten out of his car.  The words that had come out of his mouth hadn't quite matched the expression in his eyes, and she didn't dare hope to be correct about what she'd interpreted there.  She wasn't entirely sure what it was holding him back, though she surmised it was something akin to fear of being doomed to repeat his marriage fallout.  She was about to send him a text, when a loud knock sounded at the door.  She opened it to see Marshall standing there, a hopeful glint in his eyes.

"Got any plans tonight, Sam?" he asked eagerly.

"Nope," she couldn't help but smile at his expression.

"I have some new concept ideas for Evermake that I'd really like to show you," he was practically bouncing with excitement and Sam was surprised he hadn't already dragged her over to his apartment.

"Let me just feed Bowser first," Sam nodded, leaving the door open for him to wait inside.

"Hey cutie," Marshall cooed at the mini Welshman, crouching down, "Trust me yet?"

Bowser sat on the floor juuuuust outside of reaching distance, making eye contact with Marshall as he wagged his tail twice, then trotted over to his food bowl.

"He's slowly warming up to you, I think," smiled Sam, patting her pooch on the head before leading the way out the door.

"I'll take it," grinned Marshall as Sam locked up.

He led her straight to his desk, opening up several windows on the computer, mildly bashful as he pointed to the first one, "This is how I pictured the user's crafting station."

Sam's eyes widened as she took in the meticulous detail he'd obviously poured into it, "It's not exactly how I envisioned..." she murmured, then turned to look at Marshall, a wide smile breaking across her face, "And I think it's all the better for it."

"Really?" he asked, voice soft, "So you like it?"

"Marshall, I love it!" she exclaimed, zooming into certain parts of the image, attempting to pick out all of his hidden gems.

"I...I also came up with an adventurer profile," he added, feeling nervous as he navigated to another window.

"Oooh lemme see!" she said excitedly, hands gripping the edge of his desk.

Marshall laughed as his character appeared on the screen; a short creature with a mischievous expression, wearing armor that consisted of various pieces clearly thrown together, "This is Gulch, he's a kleptomaniac of questionable origin who is also attracted to any odd object he finds."

"He's so cute," Sam's eyes shone, her mind whirring as it thought up a role for him, "And maybe he occasionally brings random things back to the user to be used in crafting, and some of them are incredibly rare with powerful properties, and some are just duds."

"My cheeky boy," Marshall clasped his hands beneath his chin proudly.

"And maybe," continued Sam, "The user sometimes has to pay his bail and in return, Gulch brings them something extra special as a thank you."

"And maybe he likes part of his salary to be in food," laughed Marshall, inspired by Sam's enthusiasm, "I get the feel of him being a glutton."

"I can totally see that," Sam nodded, then turned to face him, "Got any more?"

"How much time have you got?" Marshall waggled his fingers at her.

"All night," she responded.

"Then maybe we should order in," Marshall laughed at her obvious passion for their project, "And I'll make sure to order extra for Monica, she's coming by later."

"Oh, well I'll make sure to leave-"
"Nope!" interrupted Marshall, "I'm sure she'd love to see you too, she talks a lot about you now, you know. Kiddo this, and Sam that. It's cute."

"Well so long as I'm not keeping you guys from-"

"From what, banging?" Marshall winked at her, "We can always find time for that."

Sam laughed and they ordered Thai food before their focus switched back to Evermake.  They became deeply immersed in character theory and design elements until the food arrived, Monica following right behind it.

"Good timing," Marshall beamed at her, kissing her softly.

"And what shenanigans have you two been up to?" Monica teased, putting her things by Marshall's bed.

"I'm showing her the Evermake art," Marshall replied, placing another quick kiss on Monica's shoulder before moving to unpack the food.

"Oh did you show her Gulch?" she asked excitedly, "I think he's my favourite, that little klepto stole my heart."

"He did," laughed Sam, "We came up with some more backstory too."

"Tell me everything," Monica pulled up another chair and together they all ate while laughing and discussing.

"Excellent work today, Mindi," Charles nodded at the young girl before him, mask tucked under his arm as he knelt down to her level, "You've really been improving."

"Thanks, Coach Jones," Mindi replied shyly, "I've been practicing."

"I can certainly see it," he smiled.

"Mindi!" The girl's mother called from the doors of the practice area, "Time to go!"

The girl scampered over to her mother then headed towards the women’s changing room, turning to wave to Charles, "Bye, Coach Jones!"

"See you next week," he called after her, walking over to the light control box by the exit.

"You're so good with her," Charles heard a voice behind him.

He turned to see Mindi's mother standing uncomfortably close, her eyes seeming to watch his every move.

"She has a genuine enthusiasm for fencing," he pasted on a polite smile, "And I hope to foster that."

"Y'know," purred the woman, stepping even closer to Charles, "She really looks up to you, and her father has been out of the picture for a few years."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Charles replied, attempting to step back, but finding himself against the wall.

"It can be tough raising a kid alone," she continued, running a finger down the front of his chest, "And she could really use a father figure in her life."

"You seem to be doing quite well for her on your own," he said stiffly, trying to move away from her, but she kept following him.

She pressed herself against him, looking up into his eyes as she said, "Why don't we see just how good of a Daddy you can be."

Charles let out an impatient exhale.  In the past, he might just have taken the woman up on her offer, but now...

"Apologies if I gave off the wrong impression," his tone was strictly professional as he gently pushed her away by the shoulders, "But I am spoken for."

He walked over to the still open doors, not seeing the dark-haired figure who was standing just beside them, who had heard the entire exchange with her red lips pursed in a grimace.

"Now if you'll excuse me," he gestured for Mindi's mother to leave the room ahead of him, "I have someone I need to go see."

She huffed embarrassedly and walked quickly out, ignoring the raven-haired woman she passed by, the latter making a silent exit herself. 

Charles locked up the piste area and had a quick shower before throwing on his clothes and walking rapidly to his car.  The entire encounter with his student's mother had left him with a deep need to see Sam, to show her that she was his...and that he was hers, despite his mind still trying to declare the contrary.  He hadn't bothered texting ahead, in too much of a hurry to get to Sam's apartment. 

He pulled into a rough parking job, grabbed his duffle bag, and practically sprinted up the steps to knock on her door.  After a few seconds of no one answering, he tried knocking again, suddenly feeling somewhat foolish, 'Her life doesn't revolve around you'.  Just then, his ears picked up the sound of laughter from across the hall; that of a man's, and one that was unmistakably Sam's.  He walked over in halting steps, his mind trying to throw him back to the moment he'd walked in on Gwen and Griffiths – ‘See? They’re all the same’ - while the rest of him fought it, knowing Sam would never do such a thing.  He rapped on the door with his knuckles and greeted the one who opened it, "Good evening, Ben."

"Oh hey, COG," he smiled, stepping aside to let the Welshman in.

Charles' eyes darted around the room until they landed on Sam, a surprised smile on her face, "H-hi," she waved.

While he knew that she and Ben had likely been working on Evermake, he still felt the possessive stirrings of a man desperate to lay claim to the woman he-

"Oh hi, pretty boy," came Monica's voice as she entered the room, "What's up?"

He bit the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from delivering a lewd answer, instead saying, "I merely have a question for Samara."

He walked over to Sam and placed his bag on the chair, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as he asked, "May I have your keys, Bunty?"

"Okay," she nodded in confusion, handing them to Charles as she asked, "What fo-"

Her query was cut off as he stooped down and lifted her over his shoulder, grabbing his duffle before heading for the door.

"Now, if you two will excuse us, this Cantankerous Old Goat would like to parler with your friend, here," he quipped as he turned to say goodbye, securely holding onto Sam with one arm, his hand sliding over her ass to keep her dress from riding up.  She, for her part, was too startled to utter a word, face beet red and hands tightly fisting the back of his shirt.

"Fuck," breathed Monica, watching Charles go.

"Yes, that is one of the words I intend to elicit from her," Charles winked before making his exit, chuckling as he heard Marshall bleat "That's so baaaaaadass!" before closing the door behind him.  

He walked over to Sam's apartment, hearing her finally speak up, "Was this really necessary?"

"It felt right in the moment," he responded, unlocking her door and walking in, dropping his bag and locking up behind them.

He threw her keys onto the kitchen bar and made for the couch, pausing partway when Sam, having taken advantage of her position, grabbed his behind with a hearty squeeze.

"Enjoying yourself back there?" he asked, sliding his free hand up between her legs, his thumb finding her clit.

"Y-yes," she stammered, delivering a slap to his ass cheek in retaliation.

"So that's how you want to play it," he smirked, fingers exploring a bit more before he set her back on her feet.

She reached for him, but he intercepted her, sitting on the couch and pulling her down across his lap, her face against the fabric of the cushions.

"You seem to have a fascination with my backside, Bunty," he teased, sliding her dress up until it bunched at the small of her back, leaving her rear cheeks exposed, barely covered by her small panties.

"It is a nice ass," she replied, squirming on his lap.

"And yours is exquisite," he breathed, lightly slapping the cheek closest to him then bending forward to press a soft kiss to it, her gasp sounding across the room.  "I do recall you leaving me in quite a state earlier," he continued, repeating the action on her other cheek and massaging it softly afterward, drawing a moan from her this time.

"You h-had it coming," she attempted to sound firm, pressing into his touch.

"I'll have you coming," he growled, fingers striking across her rear one more time before reaching between her thighs, "My, Bunty, I think you quite enjoyed that.  You're positively soaked."

"Please," she begged as his fingers circled her entrance, but didn't quite hit where she was aching for him.

"Very demanding, aren't we," his voice was deep yet strained as he struggled to keep himself in check.

"I'll show you demanding," she muttered, jumping up from his lap too quickly for him to react.

She grabbed his hand and pulled him to standing, intending to drag him to the bedroom, but on seeing Bowser sleeping on her bedspread, changed direction for the kitchen.  She had planned to make him sit on one of the chairs, but let out a shriek when he spun her to face him, gripping her waist and lifting her to sit on the kitchen bar.  His hands slid up her thighs, her dress still hiked above her hips, and he leaned in to capture her lips in a passionate kiss.  Her fingers threaded into his hair as she wrapped her legs around him, feeling him grind against her, the thin damp fabric of her underwear doing very little to stem the sensation. 

Her hands drifted down to slowly unbutton his shirt, letting it fall to the floor when she unfastened the last one.  She wanted to feel his skin against hers, and pulled her own dress up over her head before he had a chance to, tossing it to join his shirt.  He unclasped her bra as he kissed her neck, the strapless garment tumbling to the side while her hand went to his belt buckle.  She halted as his lips closed over her nipple, tongue flicking the taut peak while his fingers pinched and rolled the other.  She went again for his pants, but froze once more when he pressed a tender kiss to the inside of her breast, then above her navel, then just below it. 

He pulled her underwear off and slowly, painstakingly slowly, he kissed a trail of fire down the inside of one of her legs, then back up the other.  He continued along his path, ensuring to hit all of the areas he had mentally catalogued as her favourites - his too - and left his mark on each of them.  When she was a quivering mess before him, having transitioned from pleas to frustration, Charles got down to the floor on one knee, gripping her thighs as he went straight for her clit, then stopped, hovering a mere inch from it.

"What were you saying about demanding?" he drawled, looking up at her with a devious grin, his breath blowing across her engorged flesh.

She glared at him, eyes seeming almost red in the light, then gripped the hair at the back of his head and pulled his mouth against her.  She felt him smirk just before his lips sucked her clit hard, eliciting a "Fuck!" from her. 

Charles felt triumph amidst the arousal as he set about dragging his tongue along her folds, around her rosy nub, then plunging inside, alternating the pattern to avoid predictability.  Her flavour filled his senses and he became a man possessed; needing to show her what she was to him, even if he didn't completely know that himself.  Her moans grew louder, punctuated by her thighs squeezing around his head, until she tugged on his hair, getting the words, "Need you, inside, now," out amid the panted breaths.  He stood, dragging his lips along her skin as he did, right up to her own.  He gently grasped her shoulders and guided her to lay back on the counter, then gripped her ankles together and raised them up. 

Resting her legs against his chest and shoulder, his hands were then free to grab her hips, holding her still while he languidly slid his length between her thighs.  A rough "Ohhh" spilled from his mouth as she squeezed her legs together in response to his shaft gliding along her core, feeling utterly surrounded.  As much as he was enjoying this, he still felt the intense urge to be inside of her - knowing she felt it too - so he angled his pelvis and pushed forward until he was fully seated within her.  A shuddering groan escaped the both of them as they each felt a sense of wholeness, knowing completion would follow in its wake. 

"Charles," she uttered his name as if he were her salvation.

"Hang on, love," he murmured back, waiting for her to grab the edge of the counter before drawing back his hips to thrust home again.

He kept a steady pace, at first, plunging as deeply as he could, more so when he saw her hand move to rub her clit.  Bit by bit, he increased his speed, able to feel her muscles begin to tighten, or at least he thought so.  Without warning, she cried out, having hit her climax as if on fast forward - though no less intense.  Sam wasn't sure if it was the charge to the air, the way he'd carried her out of Marshall's apartment, or knowing that he hadn't been able to go the night without seeing her that had pushed her over.  Nevertheless, she felt him still sliding in and out of her at a leisurely place as she came back to her senses.  She looked up at him, the savage intensity in his gaze signalling a need of her own; to bring him to his completion. 

She opened her legs and planted her feet against his shoulders, using that and her forearms against the counter as leverage.  She lifted off, then slid back down his length, keeping a steady pace as she worked out the coordination.  It was worth it just to see the desire in his features as he watched her breasts bounce with her motions, her thigh muscles clench with the movement, and biting her lip both in concentration and want.  He licked his thumb and reached down to massage her clit as she moved faster, lifting then slamming back against him.  She could feel him rocking toward her more and more erratically as she made him walk the edge, she herself growing close again.  His free hand gripped the top of her thigh, anchoring her as he met her thrust for thrust, his impending orgasm visible in his features.  Her breaths were shallow, her muscles shaking with exertion, but Sam thought she knew what he needed from her.

"Charles," she breathed, her words punctuated by their bodies meeting over and over, "I need...you...to come inside...make...make me yours."

For a split second, his face held a painfully vulnerable expression and Sam felt monumentally moved by it...and then they were both flung over their peaks.  A mixture of shouted names and curse words echoed around her apartment, along with ragged breathing, and a rushing sound; that of blood pounding in the ears.  Charles pulled out and gently eased Sam's feet off of his chest, lowering them to dangle from the counter edge before helping her to a sitting position.  She wrapped her arms around him and held him close, feeling him return the gesture, burrowing his face into her hair.  They stayed that way for a few moments before Sam pulled back, looking up into his eyes.

"Samara," her name was a whisper, as if he was afraid to break her - or himself.

He had no idea what words were about to follow, and would never find out as Bowser chose that moment to whimper from the vicinity of the door.

"I think he needs to go out," Sam sighed, not taking her eyes from Charles'.

"I'll take him," he said softly, kissing her gently before lifting her down, "You go ahead and clean up."

"Okay," she smiled, heading for the bathroom, wondering if she would ever find out what he'd been about to say.

Charles wiped himself off before throwing on his dress shirt and pants, then grabbed Sam's keys and walked over to Bowser.

"Hello my fellow Welshman," he said affectionately, bending to attach Bowser's leash, "Would you like to go out?"

The excited "Ahp ahp!" and furiously wagging tail told him that was a yes.  He glanced toward the bathroom before taking Bowser out and locking the door behind him.  As they walked around the block, Charles found himself grateful for the interruption, for once.  He needed the time to craft excuses for how he was feeling, to reinstate the denial, to form some kind of coherent sentence he could speak to Sam; one that was truthful without being dangerous.  Because while he refused to acknowledge what was happening, he also refused to lie to her; though he clearly had no problem with doing so to himself, perpetually looping through a vicious cycle of his own making.  Once Bowser had finished, they went back up to the apartment, Charles locking them in for the night.  He went toward the sound of Sam's voice as she greeted her black-and-white pup, her face lighting up on seeing him walk in.

"I brought your bag in here," she said, Charles noticing that she was still naked.

"I appreciate that, Bunty," he smiled, "Though I'm afraid there are no overnight things in it, I wasn't planning on being here tonight."

"So, why are you?" she asked, tone completely open, eyes curious yet apprehensive.

"Because I wanted to be," he answered simply.

Sam nodded, and it seemed his response was enough.  Charles turned and went to the bathroom, using the facilities then washing his hands and himself briefly before brushing his teeth.  He didn't have a change of clothes for the next day, nor did he have his contact lens supplies with him, or his glasses, but he found himself not caring, because he was here, with her.  He had an extra pair of glasses in his work desk, and could go home in the morning to change if he really wanted, but right now Sam was waiting for him to come to bed.  And that sentiment, even as it flitted through his mind, felt right. 

Regardless of the shattering revelations he was suppressing, the changes between them, how he couldn't seem to last a minute without thinking about her, he would go to her.  He felt that he always would, no matter what adversity came their way; be it from the universe or self-inflicted.  He rinsed the toothpaste from his mouth then went back to Sam's bedroom, stripping off his clothes once there.  She was laying on her side, head propped on her hand as she watched him silently, an easy smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.  He climbed in beside her and she reached to turn off the lamp, snuggling into him as his arm settled around her.  She felt him kiss the top of her head, and she tilted her face upward, getting a second one on her lips.

"I am glad you're here," she murmured, "Just in case you didn't know."

"That's good to hear," he replied, "Because you'd be hard-pressed to get rid of me."

Sam's sleepy giggle turned into a yawn, earning a chuckle from Charles.

"Goodnight, Bunty."

"G'night, Charles."

Chapter Text

Music suggestion:  At the words "Sam shook her head and walked to the shower" https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=az00U-Scql4

The grating yet familiar sound of Sam's alarm carried both Sam and Charles from dreams to reality, though neither found the abrupt change to be particularly unpleasant, considering who they woke up next to.

"Morning," smiled Sam as she leaned over to kiss Charles.

"Good morning, Bunty," he rumbled, smirking at Sam's bedhead.

Sam sat up and stretched, Charles unable to stop himself from leaning over and delivering a small kiss to her nipple as it arched toward him.  Looking at his phone, he noticed that her alarm had gone off a half hour earlier than normal.

"Do you have morning plans?" he asked her as he indicated the time, eyebrow raised suggestively.

"I need to shower," she scrunched her nose at him, "And sometimes I like to take my time."

"Well, don't let me stop you," he teased.

Sam kissed the tip of his nose then hopped out of bed, heading to the bathroom.  Just as she entered the hallway, she saw Bowser zooming past her into the bedroom, something large held in his mouth.  She went back and peeked in, hearing Charles ask, "And what do you have there, fy machgen?" as he moved to sit on the edge of the bed.

Sam watched Bowser drop the item at Charles' feet, then burst out laughing when the blond picked up the mildly slobber-covered object, holding it aloft as he questioned, "A potato?"

"Don't ask," Sam giggled, then as an afterthought, "I can't even remember the last time I bought potatoes."

She let out another laugh as Charles' mouth twisted in distaste, hurriedly throwing the spud away and amusedly watching their tiny scoundrel chase after it. 

Sam shook her head and walked to the shower, turning on the water and running it to the perfect temperature.  She stepped in amongst the clouds of steam and started shampooing her hair.  She was just about to add conditioner, when a voice sounding through the steam startled her, causing her to squirt the hair product onto the tub floor.

"I thought perhaps I should shower as well," said Charles as he slid the curtain aside, smug look on his face, "And I am certainly all for water conservation."

Sam flicked some droplets at his face, drawing a laugh from him as he stepped into the tub.  She handed him the shampoo and he lathered it into his hair while Sam worked conditioner into her own.  She shifted to the other end of the tub so that he could rinse, then held her hands out to him.

"Need conditioner?" she asked, "I have some extra."

He smiled and stooped so that she could reach his head, gently combing through his strands until she was satisfied she'd gotten them all.  At some point, his hands had found their way to her hips and slowly meandered over her skin, leaving curlicued trails of moisture.  Once they’d both rinsed out their conditioner, Sam moved to start washing herself with soap, but his grip on her shoulders stilled her.  She watched as he poured a liberal amount of her body wash onto his hands, feeling herself react to the anticipation of his touch.  He started by grasping her upper arms and guiding her to turn away from him, not really meeting any resistance.  Within seconds of his fingers pressing into the muscles of her back, Sam was practically a puddle, feeling him work out some kinks she didn't even know she had.

"Ohhh yesss," she moaned as he rubbed narrowing circles into a particularly tight spot, his long dextrous fingers able to cover large portions of her small frame. 

She knew she'd inflamed a reaction within him when he stepped closer and she was able to feel his erection nestled against her behind.  His fingers wandered to her front, lightly kneading her breasts while his chin rested on her shoulder, his length gliding minutely against her.

"I thought I might check your front for tension," he murmured into her ear, able to feel her skin break out into goosebumps as he paid particular attention to her nipples.

"I'm feeling pretty relaxed actually," she smiled dreamily, "But maybe keep checking."

She felt his hands slide around to her back again, this time each cupping a rear cheek and massaging them.

"These feel rather tight," he remarked, voice low, "Perhaps I should spend a bit of time here."
"I agreeee," she groaned, her breath catching when his fingers drifted between her cheeks.

He twisted slightly to fill his cupped palms with water, bringing them back to pour it over her skin and rinse away the soap, running his hands along her body then repeating the process until he was satisfied.

"You know where else feels pretty tight?" she asked coyly, head tilting back to rest against his chest.

"I believe I do," he grinned devilishly, spinning her to face him.

Sam leaned forward with a smirk, her eyes closed, but found herself kissing air.  She looked down to see him on one knee at her feet, gently lifting her leg so that her foot rested on his thigh, her hand automatically moving to balance on his shoulder.

"You must be tight in your calves, Bunty, judging by how you were pushing off of my chest last night," he continued cheekily, digging his fingers into her calf muscles.

Any frustration she might have felt was assuaged by the sensation of him working her lower legs, leaving her with just a blush over the memory he'd summoned.

"All the better to take you deeply," she replied, seeing his eyes darken.

"Do you like it when I'm deep?" he asked, pressing a kiss to her inner thigh, his fingers skimming the length of her calf.

"Always," she breathed, eyes following his movements.

His gaze was locked with hers as he slowly moved his lips along her skin toward the apex of her legs, the water lending an easy glide.  She shivered when his lips reached their destination, brushing lightly over her sensitive flesh already pulsing for him.  He gently kissed her clit before sucking it into his mouth, tongue playing over it with a practiced tortuosity.

"Ah!" she gasped, hands seizing his hair.

His response was to push harder, move faster, and to bring his fingers up to trace along her folds before gently pushing them into her, earning a deep moan that reverberated off of the walls.

"My, Bunty," he spoke in between strokes, slowly drawing his fingers out, then sliding them back in and curling them inward, "You are quite tight here."

"You m-might have to-hah...use m-more," she managed to get out, her hips already beginning to buck involuntarily.

"I think you're right," his deep voice smoothed over her, and suddenly his hand and mouth were gone.

He kissed her thigh again before placing her foot back on the tub floor, and moving to stand.  She had already figured where he was going and, after sliding the curtain toward the faucet end, positioned herself so that she was bent over, hands braced against the edge of the tub.

"Impatient, are we?" he chuckled, shifting so he stood behind her.

She wiggled her hips at him in frustration, a move which practically decimated most of the last of his self-control.  However, he still held enough to taunt her just a bit more, gliding his shaft along her folds in a teasingly slow fashion.  She turned her head to glare at him over her shoulder and he winked audaciously in return.  

"Let it never be said that I am one to leave my love wanting," he commented, the words flowing freely from his mouth and for once, he didn't feel the sudden urge to wrench them back into the cover of things unspoken.

He pushed at her entrance with the head of his cock, having planned on entering her slowly.  His intentions flew out the window, however, when Sam drove her hips back hard, taking him fully in one swift motion.

"Fuck," he exhaled, hands gripping her hips to steady himself.

"Your wish is my command, my prince," said Sam, a smug smile of her own playing about her lips.

Before Charles could fully interpret her comment, she pulled forward then slammed back again, repeating her motions in a slowly building rhythm.  Charles' jaw went slack as she took the lead, unable to take his eyes off the sight of his length sliding in and out of her.

"Please," he begged, Sam reveling in him being the one to plead this time.

"Faster, Samara," he implored, "Take your pleasure from me."

Something about how he was essentially begging her to please herself with his body heightened the experience for Sam and she did as he asked, increasing her speed.  She could feel the deliciously heated coiling in her lower abdomen that signalled an impending climax, but wasn't yet finished with him.  She pushed her hips back forcefully, the action heralded with a loud ‘smack’, and then held them there, swivelling lazily.  This seemed to work just as effectively on him as he let out a throaty moan, vibrating through her.  He bent forward and kissed her spine, one arm circling around to hold her breast, his other hand curling possessively across her abdomen. 

He stood back up, lifting her with him, remaining seated deep inside of her.  The change in position had him hitting a particularly stimulating spot and she jerked with the sensation, Charles sinking his teeth into her neck.  He drew his hips back and thrusted up into her, their breaths syncing as he did it again, and again.  Her back arched, pushing her even more deeply onto him as he pounded into her, her loud keening echoing around the bathroom, mingling with his own.  Her hand drifted to grasp his as he squeezed her breast in time with his thrusts, his other hand sliding along her mons until his fingers were circling over her clit.  She was getting close, as was he, and they could both feel it, having come to know each other so intimately.  She reached her free hand behind her, digits digging into his scalp as she gripped his hair, trying to pull him even closer.  He was whispering something in her ear that Sam could only just hear, unsure if he meant her to, "You're mine."

It pushed her ever higher and she was hanging on by a mere thread, but she wanted him to jump with her, and thought perhaps she knew what would galvanize the leap.  

"I'm yours," she'd tried to murmur it, but it came out as a moan.

She didn't know who leapt first, but Charles was right there with her, his peak blending into her own, a release intricately entwined.  He was holding her to him still minutes later, both recovering from the intensity of it, yet both still desperately holding back.

"Perhaps we should rinse off," Charles rasped against her neck.

Sam shifted so that she could press her lips to his, feeling something behind his kiss he'd yet to say aloud, and she wasn't sure if he could.  But for now, this was enough.  They rinsed themselves, having maintained some form of physical contact with one another the entire time, then stepped out to towel off and get ready for the day. 

They quickly dressed, deciding to stop for coffee and breakfast rather than make something, seeing as they were already running late.  Sam went to her bedroom to grab her bag, firing off a quick text to Ms. Whipple, asking if she would take Bowser for a walk that morning.  Sam came out of her bedroom to see Charles sitting on the couch, the pooch in question on his lap receiving belly rubs, back leg kicking in the air.

"Should I go ahead without you?" she teased, raising an eyebrow.

"As if I'd entrust you to drive my car," he scoffed, giving Bowser one more scratch before lowering him gently to the floor, trying not to give in to the puppy dog stare as he followed Sam.

"There are plenty of forms of public transpor-" she started, but quickly found herself against the door, cheek lying flat on the cool wood surface.

"I know that you're well aware of how I feel regarding that matter," his voice growled into her ear, "So I can't help but think you enjoy riling me up," he rolled his pelvis against her rear and she was able to feel him fully, "Are you hoping I'll snap? Perhaps be a bit firmer with you, Samara?"

She caught him off guard when she spun in his grasp, gripping his ass with her hands and pulling him against her, the element of surprise lending her an easy acquiescence.

"And if I do?"

Gazes locked, pupils wide, breaths quickened and Charles searched her eyes for something, the answer, he supposed, "How is it that you affect me so?"

But a response was not forthcoming, as a loud knock sounded right beside Sam's head, followed by Marshall's voice through the door, "Hey Sam, you're going to be late...you too blondie."

Charles and Sam looked at each other, the blush on her cheeks meeting his raised eyebrow as he asked, "Shall we?"

They walked out, Sam locking up, and came face to face with Monica and Marshall in the hallway wearing matching smirks.

"Sounds like you two had a good morning," winked Monica.

Sam realized their shower session must have been louder than she thought, – not that she really had thought about it at the time - her face flushing as she replied, "Y-yes, we did."

"And pretty boy," continued Monica as she looked to the Welshman, "You weren't kidding about making her scream last night, kudos!"

"Surely you had something better to do than listen to Samara praising my skills?" his tone was a mixture of smugness and mock admonition.

"Or Charles begging?" Sam added, immensely satisfied to see a light blush arise on the blond's cheeks.

"Oh, we were fucking too," grinned Monica, "We just know how to be quiet."

"I guess we were a bit lost in our own world," laughed Sam, looking to see the truth of her words reflected back at her from Charles' expression.

"That's what happens when you're in love," commented Marshall, directing it both at Monica and their fellow couple, the latter purposely avoiding eye contact with each other, though they couldn't prevent their fingers from lacing together.

"You're such a sap," giggled Monica as she tugged on Marshall's shirt, bringing his lips to hers.

"Get a room!" laughed Sam.

"We will if you will," retorted Marshall playfully before leading the way down the stairs.

"No, but seriously," Monica whispered to Sam as they traversed the stairs together behind Charles, "That over the shoulder thing was pretty hot."

"You should've seen what came after," Sam whispered back, peeking over to see that Charles wasn't looking before miming a spanking gesture.

Monica fanned herself dramatically, mouthing the word 'dayum' at Sam.  Out loud, she teased, "I didn't know you liked it so rough, kiddo," drawing her hand back as if to playfully smack the brunette's rear.  

Before she could make contact, however, her wrist was stalled by the cool grip of a tall Welshman who'd appeared as if out of nowhere, eyes a searing blue.

"Dreadfully sorry," he smirked, "But I'm afraid I've already staked my claim here," he smoothed his other hand over Sam's ass cheek on the word 'here', causing her to jump slightly.

"Have you?" challenged Monica, attempting to pull something declarative out of him, both for her friend's sake and for his.

They had a very short-lived standoff, interrupted when Marshall yelled, "Come on, Kitten, we have to go!"

"This ain't over," said Monica, making an 'I'm watching you' gesture toward Charles before blowing a kiss to Sam.

"I've grown rather fond of those two," Charles commented as Monica sauntered after Marshall.

"I think they're fond of you too," Sam returned as they walked over to the car, Charles opening the door for her.

Charles' phone suddenly buzzed with a notification and he took it from his pocket, face lighting up as he read the message.  Sam couldn't help but smile at the elated expression on his face, and how it made him look so much younger than he was.

"Do you have plans tonight, Bunty?" he asked, eyes lifting to meet hers, glinting with excitement.

"I think I’m about to make some," she grinned back.

"I've been asked to beta test another escape room, would you like to accompany me?"

"I can't possibly say no to that, I'm in!" 

Charles let out a small laugh, kissing her lightly, his happiness palpable.  And in that moment, he legitimately was happy; that Sam could look at him with such tenderness, while agreeing without hesitation to do something with him that he genuinely enjoyed - aside from the obvious.  There was that warmth in his chest again, something he could have sworn he'd forgotten how to feel, ever since he'd frozen it out those years ago.  It was unsettling, though not unpleasantly so, and it terrified him; an absolutely beautiful type of terror that perhaps he should just try leaning into...

"Charles?" Sam's concerned voice shook him from his reverie, a half smile curving his mouth as he pressed just one more kiss to her lips before waiting for her to get in, closing the door behind her.

He seated himself on the driver's side and looked over to her, smiling softly before turning the car on and driving away.  As his thoughts drifted, so did his hand onto Sam's thigh, feeling her small fingers curling around his.  He kept stealing glances at her from the corner of his eye, as if trying to convince himself that she was actually there.

"Is there something on my face?" she teased, watching him.

Her indirect acknowledgement of his normally well-veiled insecurity had him reverting to one of his more solid defense mechanisms; flirting.

"Not yet, though I can think of something I would like to put there," his words had the desired effect on Sam, distraction; granted, he felt the blood rush from one head to another at the imagery his treasonous mind presented.

He choked when she piped up a response, a defiant smirk on her face, "I swallow it often enough, you'd think some would have ended up on my face by now."

It had already been difficult to focus on the road, but that comment almost made Charles have to pull over.  This woman beside him, whom he'd once barely registered, seeing her solely as a part of his work, had grown root in his mind, in his heart, and she'd slowly blossomed there.  It seemed that that inopportune moment, with him driving through morning traffic, pants uncomfortably tight, was to be the moment her radiance hit him square in the chest.  He didn't know how much longer he could keep up the denial; she was poking holes in the dam that had held him back for so long...and he was quite certain he didn't want to repair them, 'Let it fall', yet still that one nagging voice spoke, 'If it falls, so will you.' 

Meanwhile, Sam had observed every bit of his reaction, from the whitening of his knuckles on the steering wheel, to the way he'd adjusted his tie, to the blatant bulge in his pants.  She had long since grown to love provoking him, especially when it garnered such a response.  She had felt something welling up inside of her all morning, no, longer than that.  It wasn't an emotion she was all too experienced with, having once thought herself perhaps incapable of it, considering how long she went without.  She used to spend her days thinking about Ruminate and developing code…and coffee...and Bowser, but now it was as if Charles consumed her every thought.  Every pair of blue eyes that connected with her own, 3-piece suits, flowers, chicken soup, silk, strawberries, a waft of his cologne regardless of whether he was in the vicinity or not, had him immediately on her mind; though it was very rare that he wasn't already there. 

Her heart jumped in her chest whenever she saw him, particularly when he smiled at her, and she'd begun to more and more associate a sensation of home with him.  It had mostly started the day she'd worn his tie, and had only continued to strengthen, until she now realized, in that exact moment, that he felt more like home to her than her own apartment did.  It was a powerful, wonderful, frightening revelation, and her lips parted as if to speak it aloud to him, but her brain shut it down, as if it were scolding her heart for being so bold.  She turned suddenly as she felt his hand encompass her cheek, pinky finger stroking her jawline.  She hadn't even realized that they'd parked in the office garage.

"You looked a bit lost in thought," his voice was gentle, quiet, stirring a memory within her.

"I was," nodded Sam, knowing what his next line would be, and speaking it with him, "Best be careful, or you might not find your way back."

She laughed, a delicate sound, endearing, precious, and Charles' words slipped out through the crack in the dam, "As long as you find your way back to me."

Sam turned her head slightly so that her lips pressed a kiss against his palm, eyes still on his as she spoke, almost as though asking a question, "So long as you're here."

"I'm not going anywhere," he'd barely gotten the last word out before their lips crashed together, 'You always were good at fooling yourself'.

Their embrace was heated, full of need, and never close enough, both wishing they were anywhere but in his car in the parking lot of their work building.  Lucy's words about tinted windows suddenly echoed through both of their minds and they pulled away from each other, though remained with lingering touches and drawn-out gazes.

"We should go up," said Sam, not moving.

"We should," Charles replied.

Finally, he heaved a sigh and got out of the car, seeing Sam do the same on her side.  They'd hoped the elevator would be empty, but no such luck, so they opted for just standing close together instead.

"Guten tag, meine kleinen (*Good day, my little) lee...ler...leb...what up, lovebirds?" greeted Lucy as they walked into the Young Technologies' lobby.

"Gesundheit," replied Charles, smirking lightly.

"Lucy, was that German?" asked Sam, veering around the 'lovebirds' part.

"Uh huh," nodded the redhead, "I've been learning it from my new gel....gilbert..." she trailed off, struggling to recall the word.

"Geliebte," Charles finished, voice soft as his eyes darted toward Sam.

"Oh?" asked Sam, slightly perplexed when Charles made for his office.

"My loverrrr," Lucy bit her lip.

"A new one? What happened to McNally?" Sam smiled in amusement.

"He was finally able to reunite with his long lost love," Lucy placed her hand over her chest.

"Well that's sweet," nodded Sam, "So who's the new beau?"

"He's such a cutie, Sam," Lucy grinned, "And he's kind of a big deal on Glitch and Viewtube, goes by the name of 'Sterng-'"

She was interrupted by the loud sound of the phone ringing, "Oops, gotta take this, I'll tell you more later!"

Sam shook her head, smiling as she walked to her door, pausing momentarily outside of Charles'.  She made as if to knock, but then thought better of it and went into her own office, completely unaware that Charles had been listening intently on the other side.  He'd heard her footsteps stop just beyond the slab of wood that separated them, willing her to come inside.  But then her steps had faded away and he'd realized she'd gone to her desk.  'What were you expecting?'  He gripped his chin with thumb and forefinger and rested his lips against his knuckles in thought, other hand resting beneath his elbow.  He stared off to the side as one word, instigated by Lucy though inspired by Sam, reverberated through his head, 'Beloved'. 

He had expected saying it out loud, even in another language, to hurt, to instill feelings of panic, to trigger immediate denial.  But even now, while it had been spoken without the proper context, he was unafraid of how it felt on his tongue; undaunted by the scenes it created, calmed...by its association with her.  He felt like he'd been fighting himself for ages regarding Sam, the side of him that wanted her warring constantly with the side that stood for self-preservation; the latter also staunchly holding to the belief that he would never be enough for her. 'She deserves someone who is actually capable of giving her love, not this twisted remnant you try so desperately to mold into its shape; even the echoes of it are disfigured, just as you would make her.'  He shook his head, trying to push against the dark thoughts, 'But I could make something from nothing, for her.'  He could practically picture this dark voice in his head, a shadow, always with the sound of clinking chains, 'That is all you have to give her, all that you are...nothing.'  Before his inner battle could escalate, the sound of a throat clearing drew Charles' attention.

"Yes, what is it, Lucy?" he asked distractedly.

"Everyone is ready for you in the boardroom," she replied, looking at him oddly.

"The...boardroom?" he was genuinely confused as his mind whirred to make sense of her words.

"For...the meeting?" she raised her eyebrows at him.

"The meet....oh yes! The meeting, about the TekTonix proposal, quite right...thank you, Lucy," he shot up out of his chair and strode to the boardroom, Lucy looking after him with concern.

He walked in, six pairs of eyes turning in his direction as the chatter quieted, including those accompanied by brown fringe and a raised eyebrow.

"Apologies everyone," Charles nodded, taking a chair beside Sam, their backs against the windows facing the outside world, "I was tied up with a client."

"Which one?" asked Umed, not buying it for a second.

"A potential new one," replied Charles through clenched teeth, "Now, let's see what you have for the TekTonix contract," he continued, steepling his fingers in front of him.

"Well, we know that they were having trouble with earthquake data collection because the program was only able to pick out data sets that matched a certain algorithm," started Umed.

Charles barely managed to mask his startled reaction to feeling a small hand on his thigh, thumb rubbing circles, as Umed continued with the issues the client had encountered.  He looked down in a panic, knowing that the table was see-through, only to observe that Sam had surreptitiously moved several presentation packets overtop to mask the view.  He glanced sideways at her, interested to see a smirk on her features.  Her thumb continued moving, and her hand slid ever so slowly higher up his leg.

"In any case," Umed continued, gesturing to the screen on the wall, where everyone else's attention seemed to be, "We think we might have a possible solution that would overall better the software and be in keeping with the direction we were looking to go with regard to AI."

"I'm l-listening," Charles stuttered minutely when Sam's pinky brushed against the placket of his trousers, her body blocking her actions from the eyes of the others.

A quick look through his periphery had Charles thanking whoever would listen that the empty chairs at the table were arranged in such a way that he and Sam remained hidden from the view of office personnel outside the room as well.

"Machine learning," said Umed.

Charles swallowed hard as Sam fully cupped the already hardening bulge at the apex of his legs, "High risk," the Welshman commented, partly directing it at Sam.

"High reward," she replied, squeezing him.

"We can program it to recognize anomalies and apply..." the rest of Umed's words were somewhat lost on Charles as Sam palmed him beneath the table, fingers stroking.

Charles struggled to focus on Umed's explanation, clearing his throat as he asked, "What would be the main goal of implementing this technique?" his breath hitching only once.

"Bringing down the noise levels so it can detect even the tiniest events," replied Umed with a double finger gun motion.

Umed’s attention was then drawn to Jacob's question, for which Charles felt utter relief, as Sam had increased her pressure.  Internally, Charles was a mixture of wanting to stop her, owing to their extremely high chance of being caught, not to mention how reckless it seemed she was being, but also very much wanting to give in to her touch.  He also felt an urge to exact revenge on her, developing a plan in his mind as the presentation continued.  Finally, it seemed Umed had reached the end of the proposal, and he turned to Charles. 

"What do you think?" Umed asked, eyes shining as he awaited his friend's response.

"I think it's incredibly well thought out and you should get it in writing as soon as possible," Charles smiled, noting Sam's hand slide inconspicuously off of him - he had to give her some credit, she'd been utterly discreet. 

"Thanks bossman," grinned Umed, "I'll do that this aft."

"Excellent," nodded Charles, "Then meeting adjourned.  Umed, I'll get you to assign the roles, seeing as this is now your brainchild."

Umed did a fist pump as they all stood, Charles waiting for the others to leave before gesturing for Sam to go ahead of him.  

"You're looking a bit obvious there, my prince," she fired quietly over her shoulder.

"And whose fault might that be?" he retorted, trying to subtly adjust his pants.

"I'd be happy to fix that for you," she smiled, "Besides, I did forget to bring a lunch today, I'll need to eat something."

She had purposely been walking slowly, and he had intentionally hung behind.  Sam's comeback had him checking that the coast was clear before yanking open the door of the supply closet nearby and pulling her into it with him.  He locked the door then rounded on her, backing her up against a rack filled with cleaning supplies.

"I believe I've warned you before about playing dangerous games with me, Bunty," he growled, lips going for her collarbone.

"And I told you that I usually win," she murmured, sinking into his touch.

Normally, Charles' brand of vengeance would consist of teasing her slowly and subtly, then more obviously as the hours wore on, until she was begging for him…but not today.  Even before Sam's far from innocent touches in the boardroom, he'd been craving the feel of her beneath his hands, hating that he hadn't had it, and had been searching for an excuse to regain it ever since they'd parted that morning.  Locked in the closet together, he found himself both unable and unwilling to keep his hands off of her now that he had free reign.  He slid them up along her front, holding her breasts up to his lips, pressing kisses along the swells of them before continuing up to cup her face, kissing her soundly.  He trailed more kisses down her neck, nudging his way below the edge of her cream-coloured blouse, fingers tugging it free from her pencil skirt.

"Now this closet may be a bit better at noise dampening than our offices, but it is still not soundproof," his voice was hushed, spoken between nips and licks along her bustline, "You'll have to keep it down."

"You're assuming I'm going to be the loud one?" she smirked at him.

"You usually are," he returned with a devious grin.

She went to reply, but had to clench her jaw shut instead when Charles nipped her ear, one hand delving beneath her skirt.  However, on reaching his goal, it was Charles who had to try and stifle a groan on realizing that Sam had nothing on underneath.

"Did you forget something, love?" he teased, his arousal straining against his pants as his fingers explored her freely without the usual fabric barrier.

"N-no," she stammered, "I thought it might be easier this way."

Knowing that she had planned it, had gone commando for him had Charles reaching new levels of needing to possess her, to please her...to be hers.  He spun her roughly so that her back was flush with his chest, reaching down to slowly hike her skirt up around her waist, fingers drifting to circle over her clit as he murmured in her ear, "You have no idea what I wanted to do to you in the boardroom."

"T-tell me," she exhaled, reaching over her shoulder to thread her fingers through his hair.

"I wanted to bend you over that table, your breasts pressing deliciously against the glass while I took you from behind," his baritone rasped and Sam bit her lip to prevent her moan from seeping out.

"In f-front of everyone?" she asked, pressing her rear against his erection.

He thought for a second, fingers shifting to just dip into her entrance, his other hand reaching up underneath her shirt and bra, occupying itself with her nipple.

"No," he finally decided, "I want to be the only one who can see you like that."

"You are," she breathed, her free hand reaching between them to stroke him through his pants.

He bit her shoulder to muffle his groan at her words, how wet she was to his touch, and the feel of her hand on him.

"I suppose I would have owed you a punishment as well for your insolence," he pinched her nipple, rolling it between his fingers.

"How would you p-punish me?"

"I would have kept you bent over that table, and given your luscious behind quite the lashing," Sam felt like her skin was on fire, "And then," she felt his fingers push inside of her, palm rubbing her clit, "I would have stood you up facing the window, so you could see your face’s reflection as I repeatedly brought you so close," he sped up his fingers, Sam's eyes rolling back, "Only to withdraw," he pulled his hand from her as if bringing his words to life.

"Until?" she asked breathily.

He once again spoke low in her ear, "Bend over, Bunty, and put your hands on that rack," he indicated the one in front of her.  

A shiver ran along her spine, doing as he'd instructed, sticking her ass out a bit further than was necessary.

"You truly are a vision," she heard him murmur, feeling his hand trace along the curve of her rear cheek, kneading the flesh.

He knelt behind her and, spreading her cheeks with his hands, went straight for her clit with his lips, alternating between teasing it with his tongue and teeth.

"Mmmm," she brought one of her hands over her mouth to silence her sounds the best she could.

He plunged his tongue inside of her, somehow managing to rub his lower lip over her small bundle of nerves currently alit with sensation.  Sam dropped her head and was able to peer through her legs to see him pleasuring her, the sight only making her even wetter.  She was getting close and she knew he was well aware of it, trying not to groan in frustration when he kept pulling back every time she neared the point of no return.  Suddenly, he was standing and spinning her around to face him, guiding her hand to his groin, his fingers then picking up where his tongue had left off. 

With shaky hands, she undid his fly and reached in, pulling his cock free of its clothed constraints.  He reached down and grabbed a small nearby bucket, flipping it upside down by his feet and gesturing for her to stand on it.  She did so, with his hand holding hers, bringing her a bit closer to his height, their lips meeting easily.  She felt his hand guiding one of her legs to wrap around his hips then hold her thigh securely, allowing the perfect angle for his length to rub along her entrance.  

"Charles," she whispered, kissing him fiercely.

"Hold on to me," he murmured, reaching down between their bodies with his free hand and guiding his tip to her slit before bringing his gaze to meet hers, "And don't let go."

"Never," she moaned into his shoulder as he thrust into her, fingers splayed across the small of her back, pushing her onto him.

She reached up and gripped his hair, pulling his lips to hers as he thrusted again, his trousers pooling around his feet.  Their tongues met, breaths shared, muffling each other's moans as Charles upped his tempo and drive.

"I l-love how you feel inside of me," she spoke against him, shuddering when he hit deep.

"Me too," he sighed, nipping her bottom lip.

Her head tilted lazily back, exposing her neck to his teeth, as each time he drove into her brought a tingling sensation accompanied by the sharp inhale of her breath.  He shifted, changing his angle and ensuring to rub against her clit with some swiveling motions, consistently alternating the directions.  Sam pressed her forehead to his, biting her lip hard so she wouldn't scream, wanting to watch him crest his peak as she did her own.  Umber merged with cerulean, one meeting the other thrust for thrust until blinding white...slack jaws, heaving breaths, soft lips, a gentle kiss. 

He held her, and she him, until they felt they could move again.  Charles helped Sam down before reaching for some tissues from one of the shelves, handing her several before wiping himself off.  Sam tucked the used napkins into a clean one, balling it into her fist to dispose of in the washroom.  She readjusted her shirt and bra while Charles bent and tugged his slacks back up, re-fastening them before reaching over to pull Sam's skirt back over her hips, smoothing out the creases.  Something peeking out from her shirt caught his eye and he smirked, silencing Sam with a kiss before she could question him.

"I'll go out first and distract the others," he said softly, guiding her toward the door with a hand on her waist, "You wait a few minutes before popping out."

"Such stealth," she teased, poking her tongue out at him.

"It seems I need to employ such tactics when it comes to you," he raised an eyebrow, "Control just flies out the window."

"I think you let it," she breathed, "Especially considering how thorough you were in here."

"I don't do anything by half measures," he rumbled in her ear before opening the door a crack and doing a cursory check, "The coast looks clear," he kissed her forehead, "I will see you later."

And with that he stepped out, a query ready on his tongue for some of the other office workers, drawing their attention to him.  Sam counted quietly to ten before swiftly ducking out of the closet, and running smack dab into someone.

"Hey there, Sam," Lucy grinned diabolically, "What were you doing in there?"

"Ah…I...umm," she stammered, flustered, then remembered the bundle in her hand, holding it up as she said, "I j-just needed some tissues."

"Riiiight," Lucy nodded dubiously as Sam moved past her, then "Oh, Sam?"

"Mhmm?" asked the brunette, turning partially toward the redhead.

"You might want to use some cover-up for that hickey on your chest."

Sam looked down, face crimson as she hurriedly buttoned up the rest of her shirt, practically running toward the bathroom as Lucy's giggle sounded behind her.

Charles had just settled at his desk to answer emails, when a knock sounded on the door.

"Come in!" he called, relaxing on seeing who entered the room, "Hello Umed, what can I do for you?"

"Y'know you could just say, 'What's up?'" the developer replied as he sat across from Charles, resting his elbows on the desk.

"My heavily ingrained genteel nature would never allow for such inelegance," the blond replied haughtily, crossing his arms.

"And yet it allowed you to get busy in the supply closet," Umed raised an accusing eyebrow, relishing in the stunned expression on his friend's face.

"You...you heard us?" Charles swallowed hard, attempting to dispel his shocked expression.

"Not really," shrugged Umed, "But we saw you go in, together, and just now you've confirmed our suspicions...and lost me fifty bucks," he grumbled the last part.

"We?" Charles' voice almost broke.

"Me and Lucy."

"Of course," he groaned, then made a connection, "So you bet I wouldn't do it?"

"I thought you were more refined than that, but I guess Lucy knows you better than I do," Umed pouted, complete with dramatic sniff.

"Come now, Umed," Charles grinned winningly at him, "You know you're the only one for me."

"Fork over the fifty bucks and I'll take your word for it," Umed countered.

"Done," nodded Charles, "But only because under normal circumstances, your bet would have been the correct one."

"And these aren't normal?" Umed was intrigued, wondering if maybe Charles was about to admit something.

"Something about Samara seems to obliterate my self-control," the Welshman sighed, running his hand through his hair, "And it's only gotten worse the more time we've spent together."

"Where I come from, they call that lo-" Umed started to say.

He was cut off by Charles' abrupt, "What was it you came in here for, Umed? Besides to gloat about my...indiscretions?"

Umed could recognize the wild look in his friend's eyes and took pity on him, "I...actually I needed your advice on something."

"My advice?" asked Charles, genuinely affected by Umed's seeking him out.

"Yup," responded Umed, "I've been asked to speak at a learning annex and I was wondering if you could give me some tips on presentation and...what to wear."

"Well, my friend," Charles smiled, "You've come to the right man."

While the boys talked behind a closed door, they were completely oblivious to the woman who had just walked into the main office.  Her hair was styled to perfection, lips a shiny crimson red, immaculate pantsuit that screamed 'boss bitch', and designer purse slung over her shoulder.  She stalked past reception, ignoring Lucy's proffered, "G-good afternoon Ms. Lawson," as she headed for the office of the person she was looking for.  She knocked loudly, tapping her foot until the door opened, revealing her intended visitee.

"E-Eva?" asked Sam uncertainly, trying to keep the door between her and the raven-haired woman.

In response, Eva shoved the door open and breezed in past Sam, taking a seat in her desk chair.  When Sam still hadn't moved after several seconds, Eva turned to face her and said, "Close the door and sit down."

Sam swallowed uneasily, but closed the door nonetheless, aware that at least Lucy knew Eva was in there with her...just in case.  She moved to stand awkwardly by her desk, waiting for Eva to speak.

"So, you're fucking Charles?" asked Eva, never one to beat around the bush.

"E-excuse me?" squeaked Sam, managing to sound mildly indignant.

"No need to hide it, I saw how he was with you at the hospital, and the fencing club.  It's pretty obvious," she leaned back, examining her fingernails.

"It's not-"

"He and I were fucking once too, y'know," Eva gazed at her slyly, "Like rabbits."

"The key w-word being 'were'" retorted Sam, finding courage flooding in with the anger that Eva inspired.

"And the puppy finds her teeth," sneered Eva, kicking up her legs so that her feet rested on Sam's desk, "Bet you haven't sunken them into his-"

"Why are you here?" interrupted Sam, arms crossed.

"I just wanted to warn you about who you're letting into your panties, Sammy," Eva replied coolly, "Because let me tell you-"

"Enough!" Sam's tone was incensed, as was the aura that radiated off of her, making Eva flinch slightly, "You know nothing about Charles."  Sam reached forward and unhinged the extension of her desk so that it slammed down, Eva having to lift her feet quickly so that they didn't drop with it, a look of surprise crossing her features as Sam practically hissed, "And what we have is absolutely none of your concern.  Now get out of my office."

"Okay," Eva said placatingly as she stood from the chair, palms held out defensively, "I...I think we got off on the wrong foot, here."  

She gestured for Sam to sit in the chair while she perched on the edge of the desk, "Listen.  I just came to tell you to be careful when it comes to Charles, he's not one to get attached...he even has a rule about it."

"We don't let our...'partnership' be dictated by any rules," Sam replied coldly.

"I figured as much at the club last night," Eva looked thoughtful.

"What do you mean?" asked Sam, eyebrows furrowed.

"Some PTA mom was hitting on him and he said, 'I am spoken for'," Eva said the last bit in an imitation of Charles' accent, "In the past, saying those words would have made him want to wash his mouth out with peroxide."

"H-he did? asked Sam, eyes softening.

"Yup," Eva popped the 'p', "And y'know, he's seemed kind of different lately, less snarky, less pent-up...less of a total douche.  He had told me he didn't do feelings, yet here he is with you; wonder what that's about."

"What happened between you two?" Sam's voice was quiet, not entirely sure if she wanted to know the answer.

"I broke his one rule," she shrugged, "I got attached.  But I think even then, it was more because he had eyes for someone else," Eva's gaze scrutinized Sam from head to toe.

"M-me?" asked Sam, startled.

"Yeah I was surprised too," smirked Eva, "But I guess you're alright."

"So...you're not here to try and talk me out of being with Charles? Or threaten me?" Sam hid her still-present nervousness.

"No," said Eva softly, arms dropping to her sides, "I had initially planned to warn you away from him, but...honestly I think you're good for him...maybe too good."

"Whaaaa?" Sam's features weren't entirely sure how to arrange themselves.

"What Charles and I had was fire," Eva smiled wistfully, aware of the small spike of jealousy she set off in Sam, "But in the end, it turned out we weren't quite the right fit.  Although, I didn't actually understand that part until I started seeing someone else, someone who actually truly complements me.  And I guess, now I'll just say good luck and...don't give up on him, or whatever." 

"I wasn't planning to," replied Sam.

"Welp, then that's it for me," said Eva as she clapped her hands together, "I have an appointment with Stone-faced Rosewood to get to upstairs, so sayonara, Sunshine."

"Wait," Sam called out before Eva could leave, her voice suspicious, "Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?"

Eva heaved a loud sigh, posture rigid as she answered, "Look.  Benji told me about what you did for him, how you were the one to 'set him onto a path of improvement', and I guess for that I'm..." she clenched her teeth, "Grateful."

"Oh, it was no-" Sam started.

"Let's not get sentimental here," snapped Eva, "You helped Benji, I helped you, now we're even."

She was almost out the door, but was stopped when Sam said, "One more thing."

"What?" Eva asked impatiently.

"B-before you go, can I ask who it is that you fit with?" Sam looked hopeful, her eager puppy dog eyes no match for even Eva.

"That's none of your business," replied the feisty lawyer, opening the door then turning back to say, "But it's Marshall's friend, Dean.  And I'll say this, Charles' whip-wielding skills don't hold a candle to his."

And with those lovely parting words, Eva was gone, leaving Sam behind feeling a mixture of apprehension, mild jealousy, and hope.

"Any other questions?" asked Charles as Umed stood from his chair.

"Actually, yes," replied Umed, "So I have this friend, and he seems to have a thing for this girl at his work, and I mean a real thing, not just frilly words and goo-goo eyes, like head over heels, in it for the long haul, super legit kind of thing.  But for some reason, he won't admit it, neither to himself nor to her."

"What, that he's in love with her?" smirked Charles, "Tell your friend to stop acting like an idiot and be out with it already."

"Okay," grinned Umed, turning to face Charles head-on, "Charles, stop acting like an idiot and be out with it already!"

"I..." Charles just stared at his friend, cursing himself for not seeing that coming.

Before either could say anything more, Lucy suddenly burst in, a bit of a panicked expression on her face.

"Umm, Charles?" she asked, glancing down the hallway.

"What now, Lucy?" the blond asked exasperatedly.

"Did you and Sam have a meeting with Eva Lawson scheduled for today?"

"No," Charles felt an immediate sense of unease overtake him, "Why do you ask?"

"Because she's in Sam's office right now..."

"Iesu mawr what does that harpy want?" Charles cursed as he strode past Lucy toward Sam's office.

He was just in time to see Eva walking out, the clacking of her stiletto heels halting as she saw Charles, ruby lips set in an unsettling smile, "Hey there, lover boy."

"What are you doing here, Ms. Lawson?" he demanded, arms folded, eyes frosty.

"Just came to have a chat with li'l Sammy in there," she jerked her head towards Sam's office, the brunette watching from the doorway.

"Your business is with me," Charles stated calmly, voice as frigid as his features.

"Not all of it," sneered Eva, "Besides, I thought you were finished with my 'business'."

Charles' eyes darted to Sam hovering nearby, trying to gauge her expression, unsure of what Eva could have been discussing with her, but she gave nothing away.

"Well next time, I would prefer you schedule an appointment, that way we can at least prepare ourselves," Charles jibed.

"I don't have to do diddly-shit for you, Jones," Eva scoffed, crossing her arms in front of her in a way that showcased her clearly flipping Charles the bird.

"How eloquent," he sniffed, "Are you quite finished?"

"Almost," Eva strode up to him, keeping her voice low as she said, "Don't hurt this one, Charles.  She deserves more than that."

"I know," he said softly, then grimaced as Eva stepped away and delivered her next words loudly on her way out of the office.

"And now I'm off to see Rosewood," she turned to Sam, "You should ask Charles how many times she rose his wood, or did he not tell you about that yet?"

She winked at Charles then sashayed out of the office, leaving a trail of confused, uneasy destruction in her wake.  Charles' gaze immediately went to Sam, whose brow was furrowed as she seemed to be looking just past him.

"Alright folks, nothing to see here," Umed's voice could be heard above the chatter as he shooed everyone back to their desks, nudging Charles' shoulder in the process and hinting for him to go and talk to Sam.

Charles whispered his thanks then moved to stand in front of Sam, waiting until she met his eyes.

"May I come in?" he asked quietly.

She nodded and went to perch on the edge of her desk.  Charles followed her, closing and locking the door behind him.

"I realize we haven't had this discussion yet," Charles started nervously, "But Eva was one of several people I've been involved with before.  I've always made it a point to keep things clinical when it comes to women, just as when I spoke with you about accommodating each others' needs."

Sam nodded silently as she chewed on her thumb nail, waiting for him to continue.

Charles ran a hand through his hair, "And as you probably gathered, I had a similar arrangement with Ms. Rosewood.  But," he stood in front of her, head bowed, taking her hands in his, "All of it pales in comparison to you."

The words were risky, he knew, holding himself out on a limb that was swaying precariously.  He couldn't explain it, but he needed her to understand that she was different, that she was more, that there weren't any rules he could apply to her.  The quiet in the room hung heavily over him, threatening to smother him while he waited for her response.  Then she inhaled so as to speak, and he prepared himself for the verbal arrow she'd surely nocked for him. 

"Charles," she whispered, squeezing his fingers, waiting until his eyes met hers, "I told you that I could see you.  I know those times are in your past, along with others," he swallowed hard, knowing she meant Gwen, "And…and I don't care.  I don’t know the specifics, nor do I need to.  But what I do know is that in this moment, here, now, this is enough.  You are enough, and I...I hope I'm enough too."

"More than enough," he breathed, bringing her hands to his lips.

Sam's eyes cast downward again as she said, "Eva told me about your rule...the one about attachment."

"You mean the one I never imposed upon you, and would have let you break a thousand times over if I had tried?" he asked softly.

"It's too late anyway," she spoke sincerely, "It was broken before we even started."

In that second, Charles saw her, just as she saw him, and he didn't even think about resisting the urge to kiss her, lips crashing together.  He pulled her harshly against him, in a way that conveyed how much he needed her touch just then, how much closer he wanted her to be.  She seemed to feel the same as she desperately grasped his lapels, unsure if she was pulling herself closer to him, or him to her.  He walked her back toward the table until she felt the edge of it hit the backs of her thighs.  He used his foot to nudge one of the chairs out from under it so he wouldn't have to relinquish his hold on her, not even breaking the kiss.  He sat and pulled her sideways onto his lap, her back propped against the table with his arm around her shoulders.  His tongue was working some kind of magic on hers as his free hand dove beneath her skirt, again marvelling at her state of undress beneath.  She shuddered atop him, her lips trembling against his when his thumb began kneading her clit, voice low.

"Perhaps a variation on the self-love exercise is in order?" he nibbled her earlobe.

"Wh-what did you haaave in mind?" her breath hitched as his thumb started a new pattern.

"Things that I...appreciate about you, Bunty.  For example," he held two fingers poised at her entrance, "I appreciate how I can make you come undone so easily," his digits slid in effortlessly, drawing a gasp from her.

"You m-make me come easily t-too," she added, knowing how her words had affected him, feeling the evidence harden impossibly further beneath her rear as he built up his pace.

He increased the pressure with his thumb, thrusting his fingers faster, "I appreciate your witty banter," he smirked against her cheekbone, feeling her bury her face into the crook of his neck, nipping the flesh there.

"H-have to keep up...with you," she got out, breathing more rapidly.

"Instead you keep me up," he rolled his hips so that he ground against her, "And I appreciate that too."

"Ohhhh," she moaned, licking the shell of his ear, "But I do so l-like helping you down."

He bit his lip to hold in a groan, again increasing everything; speed, pressure, thrust, "I appreciate how tight you are around my fingers," even he was breathless.

"What about around your cock?" she whispered in his ear.

"Th-that too," he stammered, mildly unhinged hearing her say such a word.

She pulled him in for another kiss, warmth spreading throughout her belly, her muscles tightening as he edged her closer; knowing he could sense it too.  She leaned back and made eye contact as she rapidly approached the pinnacle arising from the culmination of sensations he instilled within her, upon her. 

"Charles I...I n-need you," her voice was a mixture of rasp and moan, pushed higher.

Her words sank home, just as his fingers did, and when he saw the shift in her features, right before she crossed over, he uttered, "I love that I need you too," not even fully aware that he'd formed the words aloud, too swept up in her climax with her.  He quickly slotted his lips over hers to silence the forthcoming moan, taking it into himself instead, wishing for nothing more than to be inside of her.  But for that, he wanted to take his time, appreciate her more, and such a wish wasn't exactly conducive to office sex.  He watched her face in between small kisses against her lips, waiting for that moment when her eyes would flutter open and she would look for him, as she always did.  Her gaze focussed on him and his heart skipped, unable to process precisely how beautiful she was to him, particularly then.  He felt her wriggle on his lap slightly, adjusting so that her arm could slide down toward him, but he gripped her fingers, halting their movement.

"Not just yet, love," he murmured, "But later, I promise you can have your way with me, just as I'll have you."

She was about to protest, but a knock on her door stalled any forthcoming argument.  Charles lightly tapped his forehead to hers then lifted her to her feet, easing her skirt down before standing and adjusting himself.  He tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and then made for the door, asking "Who is it?" even as he opened it.

"It's TekTonix," came Lucy's voice, "They’re asking about an update on the proposal."

"Of course they are," sighed Charles as he adjusted his tie, "I'll take the call in my office, can you ask Umed to meet me there? I'd like him to be present when we discuss it."

"Sure thing," beamed Lucy, something about Charles' demeanor keeping her from teasing him about being with Sam behind closed doors...again.

The redhead went to talk to Umed and Charles turned back to look at Sam, who had silently walked up behind him.

"Duty calls," he smiled, "But we will continue this tonight after the escape room."

"I'm pretty excited for that too," she grinned.

Just before he could step out, he jumped when he felt her small hand give his rear cheek a good squeeze, speaking to her quietly, "You'll pay for that."

"Then just for good measure..." she replied mischievously, grabbing the other cheek.

"You're racking up quite the bill, Bunty," he teased.

"You ain't seen nothin' yet," she winked before all but pushing him out the door and closing it behind him.

Charles cleared his throat and made for his office, unable to wipe the genuine smile from his face.

Chapter Text

Music suggestion:  At the words "Sam was at her desk, foot bouncing..." https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qkP6Tf79UrM and loop it

Samuel was watching Samantha do her umpteenth take of a particular clip – the scene had been repeatedly ruined by a wayward drunk who kept managing to wander onto that section of the beach, much to the chagrin (and amusement) of the filming crew.  Although Samuel had seen his darling wife recite the same line over and over, he couldn't help but still be completely taken with her, enraptured by the sound of her voice.  Even now, after all these years, his heart still beat erratically when she turned to wink at him in between takes, their love something deep and genuine, and untouched.  Finally, the scene-stealing drunk was accosted by way of his boyfriend dragging him off by the ear, his very descriptive scolding sounding above the surf, and the cast and crew were able to wrap.

"What did you think?" asked Samantha, eyes shining as she walked up to the man she saw as the other half to her heart.

"I think you're stunning," he murmured, kissing her deeply.

"I meant about the scene, love," she giggled.

"Sorry, I was too distracted by your beauty," he professed dramatically, getting down to one knee.

"Ever the drama king," she sighed affectionately, sitting on his propped up leg and leaning into him as his arm curled around her.

"Let me take you to dinner, my darling," he cooed, lips pressed to her temple.

"How about room service?" she winked suggestively, receiving a roguish grin from Samuel in reply.

Just then, his phone began ringing loudly, setting off some nearby seagulls that cawed discordantly as they winged away from the star-crossed lovers entwined on the sand.

"You were supposed to put it on silent for filming!" Samantha exclaimed, smacking his shoulder with a laugh.

"My bad," he shrugged impishly, tugging her closer as he pulled his phone from his pocket and read the screen, "Oh, it's Jay."

"Put him on speaker," said Samantha, intending to ask their son about organizing a family dinner for their return home the following week.

Samuel accepted the call and tapped the speakerphone icon, "Why hello my bo-"

"DAD!" Jay shouted angrily.

"What's wrong, Jay?" asked Samantha, concern evident in her voice.

"It's Sam," Jay started.

"What's happened?" both Youngs stood immediately, panic overtaking their features.

"She's sleeping with Jones!"

"...And?" asked Samantha, eyebrow raised.

"WHAT?!" roared Samuel, strangling the air in front of him, "I'll kill him, I swear it.  I-I'll swim across the ocean and wring his damn Welsh neck, shake him upside down over the edge of the roof, then I'll stuff him into a box-"

"Dear," Samantha tried to garner his attention, to no avail.

"Then I'll put that box in another box and mail it to the middle of the ocean-"

"Samuel!" Samantha tried again.

"Where can I get a big container made out of pure cement, and what's the ocean's zip code..."

"HEY!" Samantha shouted, gripping her husband's chin and forcing him to look at her.

He complied, startled by the vehemence in her tone, his lips smooshed outward between her thumb and finger, "Yeth dear?"

"Calm down, you don't even know the whole story yet," she spoke succinctly, releasing Samuel's jaw as she turned back to the phone, "Jay, how did you find out?"

"She admitted it to me after I saw in her chart that-"

"Excuse me," Samantha's voice had never held such a dangerous note, its presence causing both Samuel and Jay to take pause, "Did I hear that correctly?" 

"Y-yeah, she said-"

"No," Samantha's anger was palpable, "You looked at your sister's chart? You know that breaks so many rules, don't you? Not to mention it completely violates Sam's privacy rights.  You’re a doctor, Jay, they specifically put you through training regarding this."

"B-but she-"

"Let me get this straight," Samantha pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to keep her voice level, "You snooped on your sister's chart, saw that she was on birth control, and confronted her about it?"

"Well yeah, but, wait how did you know about the birth control?" Jay's voice sounded small.

"Because she told me," sighed Samantha, reaching over to snatch Samuel’s phone from his hand before he could finish dialing Sam’s number for an emergency Young conference call.

"She what?!" Samuel yelped, "Lovebug, you knew?"

"Of course I knew, darling," she soothed, stroking her hand through his hair, "I'm her mother, she confides in me."

"B-but what about me?" pouted Samuel, eyes shining.

"I think you're fully aware of how you are with our daughter," Samantha raised her eyebrow at him, "And while you've been keeping her permanently swaddled up in this house with no windows or doors, held in a 'forever my baby' category of your mind, you've completely missed her growing up.  She's a woman now, my love, and she's already been experiencing adulthood."

"But why didn't you tell me?" his voice was soft.

Jay was still silent, able to hear their conversation.

"Because you would have been on the first flight back home, intent on murdering Charles and locking Sam away in a tower, both proverbially and literally I suspect," she melted at the broken-hearted expression on her husband's face, yet held her ground, "Am I wrong?"

"N-no...but Jones-" he tried to counter.

"She's in love with him," Samantha stated matter-of-factly.

"What?" Jay and Samuel squawked simultaneously.

"She...she said that?" asked Samuel, feeling a mixture of sheepish heartbreak at how oblivious he was to his daughter's life, shame at how he'd always steamrolled her so much, and the ever-present emotion he’d long interpreted as simmering righteous anger that he'd been correct about Jones as the villain come to spirit her away.

"Not in so many words," Samantha replied, having watched her husband's inner thoughts play across his face, "But I could hear it in her voice when she called me yesterday, they've been..." she decided to tread a bit carefully with her wording, "Seeing each other for a few weeks now."

"I KNEW IT," seethed Samuel, "I knew there was a reason he wanted to jet me off to Hawaii! To get me out of the way! I said as much to his dastardly face!"

"You can be so incredibly dense sometimes," Samantha shook her head fondly, "He did it for you, for us."

Suddenly, the memory of Charles dropping him off at the airport slammed forcefully into Samuel's mind, specifically his words:

"I didn't bring you here just for yourself.  I brought you here because I...want to live vicariously through you.  So please, go and be with your wife.  If not for you, but for those of us who wish we had the same."

Samuel's heart clenched minutely at the implication, remembering how Charles had admitted to never knowing his father, and that he had once dreamed of having a family of his own.  

"It wasn't just for us," Samuel said quietly, reaching up to stroke his wife's cheek with his knuckle.

Samantha furrowed her brow perplexedly at him which prompted a smile, his fingers reaching up to smoothen out the creases on her forehead.

"I'll explain later," he added, then spoke toward the phone "Jay, leave it alone."

"But, Dad!"

"I mean it," Samuel's voice was stern, "Drop it.  If you don't, I'll come to the hospital and post blown-up versions of embarrassing photos from your childhood."

"Dad, not again," groaned Jay.

"Oh, but this time I'll include the ones from last year, when you-"

"Stop! Stop, I get it," sighed Jay, then, "You're seriously okay with this? You? After what he did?"

"I think I could be," Samuel replied, "We'll talk soon."

Just before hanging up, Samantha added, "And Jay?"

"Yeah, mom?"

"Don't you ever look at your sister's chart without her permission again, or you will be hearing about it from your employer.  You’re damn lucky you weren’t caught already, you know you could lose your license over that.  And should such a thing occur, do not come to us expecting any sympathy, am I clear?"

"Crystal," Jay gulped, "Besides, Ruth already locked me out."

"Smart woman," commented Samantha before ending the call.

She reached up to tuck Samuel’s phone into his shirt’s breast pocket, fingers tracing over his chest as she did.  Samuel pulled his wife close, wrapping her into his arms and pressing a kiss to the top of her head as he murmured, "You were right."

"Sorry, what was that?" teased Samantha.

"You were right, my queen," Samuel chuckled, "I've been purposely ignoring my peachy pumpkin po-...Samara's having grown up because it was easier.  Easier to keep her little, keep her safe, keep her close, after everything we went through with her health problems."

"I know," replied Samantha, tightening her hold on her husband, "But that's not fair to our girl, she deserves to grow at her own pace, to experience the world."

"You are, endlessly correct, my heart," he nuzzled his nose into her hair.

"Come, my love," she pulled back to look up at him, "Let's go and talk over dinner."

"As you wish," grinned Samuel.

"We're very excited for this," said Mr. Chen, CEO of TekTonix, on speakerphone in Charles’ office.

"Glad to hear it," smiled Charles, happy to see the beaming expression on Umed's face.

"It should break us free of the plateau we’ve been stuck on for ages regarding seismic detection," Mr. Chen continued enthusiastically, "We could only get to a certain level because of the noise."

"Well if you wish to talk about specifics, then Mr. Umed Patel is your man," replied Charles, seeing Umed look confusedly behind himself, then point to his chest while mouthing 'Me?', "And for anything on the administrative side, you will receive assistance from us both."

"Well, it was a pleasure doing business with you two, and I very much look forward to working with you, Mr. Patel," stated Mr. Chen.

"Likewise!" managed Umed, still recovering from his astonishment.

They said their goodbyes and ended the call, Umed turning to Charles as he asked, "Y-you're making me the lead on this?"

"Absolutely," nodded Charles, "So long as you keep me apprised, I don't see any reason not to."

"Wow...I...thanks, Charles," Umed grinned.

"You've earned it, Umed," Charles returned the grin, offering his hand as if to shake.

Umed held out his fist in response and Charles' eyes flitted down to it, then back up to Umed's face.  Umed raised his eyebrows expectantly and Charles couldn't resist against his friend’s expression, closing his hand and tapping his knuckles lightly to Umed's.

"Bros," Umed laughed.

"...Bros," Charles grit his teeth around the slang word, not entirely hating the taste of it.

Umed wanted to talk to Charles about what had happened earlier, but was unsure of how to transition smoothly into his question...so he just went for it.

"So that was pretty intense with Eva...everything okay there?"

Charles sighed and slumped into his chair, Umed masking his surprise at both his friend's normal state of poise having taken flight, and also the realization that it meant Charles had grown comfortable around him, as the blond spoke candidly, "I believe it turned out alright."

"Turned out?" questioned Umed.

"It seemed Ms. Lawson was intent on perhaps placing a wedge between Samara and I," Charles ran a hand through this hair.

"So there is something to wedge apart," Umed tilted his head toward Charles.

"More or less," Charles replied flatly, then "Although it all further reminded me of why I don't...why I can't be with her in that way."

"What do you mean?" asked Umed, leaning forward in his seat, head propped on his fingers.

"I mean...I'm not entirely sure what I mean anymore," Charles stood and began pacing, "Samara is kind, she's goodness, and light, and everything I don't deserve, while I'm..."

"Deluding yourself?" suggested Umed.

Charles' head snapped toward him, voice hard as he said, "Miserable, and broken, and jaded, living in the shadows.  I feel as though we’ve had this conversation already."

"And yet you still don’t see…” Umed slid his chair slightly toward one end of Charles’ desk, “It kind of seems like the light would chase some of the shadows away, no?" Umed clicked Charles' desk lamp on as if to prove his point.

"Unless those shadows are too much, too dark, too heavy," Charles hissed, turning it back off to prove his point.

"Then maybe you should take off those dark sunglasses you're wearing," countered Umed as he switched the lamp back on, "Because from here, you actually look a bit glowy yourself."

"It's cruel to toy with other people's heads like that, you know," Charles commented bitterly, moving to turn the light off once again.

Umed swatted his hand away before he could reach it, "Charles," he waited until the Welshman made eye contact with him, "I would never do that to you, you should know that by now; and claiming otherwise is doing me a disservice as your friend."

Charles stared wide-eyed at the dark-haired man, taken aback, "You're right," he said softly, "I apologize, Umed, you didn't deserve that."

"Look," Umed's tone was quiet, "I know you had something traumatic happen to you, and it was shitty, and it was hard, and it was heartbreaking," he stood from his chair, placing a hand on the blond's shoulder, "And yes, the light wouldn't eradicate the shadows completely, but it lessens them, fades them, helps to keep them at bay.  I already believe in Samara, and I believe in the two of you, but most importantly, Charles, if I had to believe in one thing, just one...I'd put all of my stock in you."

"Umed..." Charles was at a loss, struggling to wrestle the strong emotions battling beneath his normally calm exterior.

That he'd been able to open up to Sam and feel comforted, accepted, needed, was one thing, but to know that he had a true friend, one who actually cared for him like he hadn't known in years...almost had his legs giving out; enough so that he had to steady himself with his hand on the desk.

"I...I'm afraid I can't find the words...to express my gratitude," he managed to get out, tone heartfelt.

"S'all good, my dude," Umed responded, brushing imaginary dirt from his shirt collar, able to tell how deeply affected the Welshman was, "Guess that means I’ve rendered you speechless."

"Hardly," laughed Charles as he patted Umed on the back.

"You're okay though?" asked Umed sincerely.

"I…think I am, yes," Charles nodded, "Thank you, my friend."

"Anytime, it gave my metaphor-speak a good stretch," Umed gave him a double thumbs up and moved to walk out, then paused just in front of the door, "You'll remember what I said?" he pointed to the still lit lamp, "About light and shadows? AKA Sam being good for you?"

"I'll keep it in mind," Charles chuckled.

Umed gave him a two-finger salute, then exited, leaving Charles to ponder over their conversation as he sat back at his desk.  He reached as if to turn the lamp off then stopped, considering it for a moment before deciding to leave it on.

Sam was at her desk, foot bouncing impatiently as she watched the remaining minutes of the work day tick by so slowly.  When the clock finally indicated close of business for her, she shot up out of her chair and strode to the door, eager to see Charles.  She was not at all surprised to hear the light rapping of knuckles on the doorframe as she approached; clearly the feeling was mutual.  She opened the door about halfway, grabbing Charles by his lapels when he poked his head into her office, pulling him in.  He hadn't been expecting that, so when she closed the door by pushing him up against it, she was met with no resistance.  Her lips collided hungrily with his, her hands tugging him closer.  He overcame his initial shock and returned the embrace with equal ardor, his fingers splayed across her lower back.  After a few moments, Sam pulled back, panting slightly as she said, "I feel like I've been waiting forever to do that."

"A few hours feels like forever to you?" he teased.

She smacked him on the shoulder playfully, halted from a second blow when he gripped each of her hands in his and draped them about his neck, their lips inches apart when he added, "Likewise, Bunty."

"How much time do we have before we need to be at the escape room?" she asked, intent clear in her eyes.

"We have an hour," he replied, wishing very much at that moment that they were going straight to his apartment instead.

"Hmm," she voiced, then kissed his cheek softly before winking, "Then we'll have to save our progress for now."

"Indeed," he chuckled, his hand lingering on her hip as she stepped away from him, wishing he didn't have to part from her touch.

"Shall we?" she asked, gesturing toward the door.

"If we must," he sighed dramatically, turning to open it and indicating for her to precede him.

Most of the office staff had left - Umed had stopped in to say goodbye to Charles (and to check on him one last time) before leaving - so their walk to the elevator was quick and without interruption...and unaccompanied.  The second the sliding doors closed behind them, Charles had Sam pinned to the wall, a fierce kiss against her lips, his hands roving over her body.  All he knew, all he could sense, all he could feel was her, and she him.  When she nipped his bottom lip, he tweaked her nipple through her shirt.  When he kissed along her neck, she rolled her hips against his, both able to fully feel each other as well as the heady tension they’d evoked within the small space.  Had the ride been longer, perhaps the walls would have seen something far more risqué, their sense of caution having been long thrown to the wind. 

As it was, when the elevator dinged to indicate they'd reached their floor, both stared dazedly at the doors opening, then came to their senses enough to break apart, just in case anyone was on the other side.  Sam smiled at Charles, cheeks tinged pink as she gripped his fingers and practically dragged him from the elevator to the car.  She was opening the passenger door for herself before Charles could even reach it, so he strode around to the driver's side, finding Sam's lips back on his the second his door shut behind him.  He couldn't bring her near enough, couldn't touch her enough, couldn't feel her enough.  While she couldn't get close enough, couldn't see enough of him, couldn't express herself enough.  She broke from the kiss to nip his earlobe, enjoying the sharp inhale he took in response.

"I might just drive us both to my place this instant," he rasped, hands working their way beneath her shirt.

"But Charles, I'm excited for the escape room!" she countered, and the truth of it was so reflected in her features, that Charles couldn't help but grin and sit back in his seat.

"Then we should get going," he arched an eyebrow, starting the car.

Sam waited until they were out of the parking garage before reaching for his groin, hand brushing over the prominent bulge tenting his pants outward.  Suddenly her wrist was in the grip of his long slender fingers and his voice was deep, reverberating around her.

"Samara, I suggest you sit on your hands for the remainder of this ride," he could see her bite her lip out of the corner of his eye.

"But where's the fun in that?" she asked innocently.

"Have it your way," he shrugged, releasing her, "But know that I will then have you my way on the side of the road and we will miss the escape room appointment."

"You drive a hard bargain," she pouted, clasping her hands in her lap.

"I'm quite certain that's how you like it," he quipped.

"Driving hard?" she teased breathily.

"Oh fy nuw," he groaned, "Are you trying to be the death of me, Bunty?"

"Seulement une petite mort," (*only a little death) she returned, holding her index finger and thumb close together, peering at him through the space in between.

"I can take the next right and be at my place in minutes," his voice was rough, strained.

Sam seriously considered it, but then the idea of seeing him experience something he loved to do, and showing it to her won out...just barely, "We'll have all night after," she smiled at him, "I'll stop teasing, I promise."

"For now," he scoffed, unable to hide his own smile.  

Their conversation for the rest of the ride focused on less fiery topics, though Sam's hand did find its way to rest atop his without reprimand.  He parked in front of their destination, a quaint-looking building by the name of 'Escapade', and they walked in, greeted enthusiastically by the man at the front desk, "Charles! Hey hey heyyy."

"Good evening, Manuel," Charles nodded in response then gestured to Sam, "This is Samara, I’ve brought her as a secondary beta."

"The more the merrier," Manuel waggled his eyebrows, not at all oblivious to the body language exchanged between the pair in front of him.

"Nice to meet you," Sam grinned.

"Likewise, honey," Manuel gave a little wave as he stood, "Come come, Cyra is waiting in the back."

Sam shot a smile at Charles and they moved to follow Manuel, Charles' hand finding its place at the small of her back.

"This room is going to be the one to beat you," Manuel tossed over his shoulder, hand up showing his fingers were crossed, "I can just feel it in my bones."

"How much did you bet this time?" Charles asked knowingly, eyebrow raised.

"Pish posh," Manuel waved his hand dismissively, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Charles leaned down to whisper in Sam's ear, "That means a lot."

Sam giggled and nudged him with her shoulder, both turning forward at the sound of a throat clearing loudly.

"So this must be your new partner," smirked the beautiful brunette before them.

"Samara," Charles ignored the woman's implication, "This is Cyra, and Cyra, this is Samara."

"Pleased to meet you," Cyra held out her hand which Sam grasped firmly and shook, unable to stop the easy smile the woman provoked.

"Likewise," Sam nodded.

"I think we have a real challenge for you two tonight," grinned Cyra, rubbing her hands together, "I've been working on this for weeks."

"I'm pretty excited," Sam's eyes sparkled, "I've heard so much about these from Charles." 

"Yes, well," replied Cyra sardonically as she jerked a thumb towards the Welshman, "Since this one keeps destroying my rooms, I've had to get more and more clever with the puzzles."

"I'm sure that's not very difficult for you," teased Charles.

"Flattery, Charles, will get you everywhere...except to victory over this room," quipped Cyra.

"Pity," Charles pouted.

Sam hadn't seen Charles act this at ease with anyone besides herself and Umed, and a brief spike of jealousy flared through her at the thought that they might actually be flirting with one another.  That idea was quelled somewhat when she felt Charles' large palm once again span across the small of her back, drawing her fractionally closer.  She looked over to see Cyra checking a computer screen and printing off a few documents, nothing out of the ordinary.  Yet, she felt Charles move even closer to her when Cyra approached them, holding out two clipboards.

"NDA's, as per usual," smiled Cyra, giving each of them a pen, "Can't be too careful these days." 

"O-of course," agreed Sam as she signed hers.

Her eyes darted upward to see Cyra scrutinizing her, the observation drawing a red tinge across her cheeks.  She flashed a nervous smile at the other woman when their eyes met, receiving a genuinely warm one in return.

"And what will the premise of this room be?" asked Charles, his arm finding its way back around Sam.

"Get this," Cyra tossed the clipboards onto a nearby desk and then gestured widely with her hands, "You're on a ship in the middle of the ocean, right? It's a beautiful day at first, but then out of nowhere, a storm rolls in and it's a baaaaad one.  All of the other passengers and crew members end up getting tossed overboard, but you two manage to hang on.  Finally, the winds die down and you're the only ones left, which wouldn't be too awful because you'd have a boat, AND YET..."

Sam watched Cyra with wide eyes as the latter built the suspense, playing to Sam's sense of curiosity and love of strategy.  Charles couldn't pull his eyes from the expression on Sam's face, at how truly interested she was, and they hadn't even started yet.  Unconsciously, he pulled her a bit closer to him as Cyra continued.

"You realize your ship is sinking!  Somewhere, there's a breach in the hull and you're taking on water, it looks like the end, right? But then you remember the captain saying something about a submarine below deck, though he never mentioned where.  It's up to you to find it in time if you want to escape this sinking ship alive."

"Do we start in the captain's quarters?" Sam asked excitedly. 

"You've got a smart one here, Charles," laughed Cyra, obviously taken with Sam's enthusiasm.

"Indeed I do," he replied, arching an eyebrow.

Sam noticed just the tiniest bit of tension and once Cyra had led them into the starting area, explained the rules, handed them a walkie-talkie (to ask for hints, at which Charles scoffed loudly), and left, she asked him the question that had been rolling around in her mind.

"Charles?" she stared down at the floor, suddenly interested in her shoes.

"Mmm?" he turned to face her while a countdown sounded around them.

"Did...did something happen in the past b-between you and Cyra?" Sam wasn't entirely sure if she wanted an answer, but felt she needed to know, nonetheless.

"What?" Charles looked down and tilted her chin up so she would meet his eyes, having recognized her jealousy for what it was, "No, I've only ever known her as an acquaintance."

"Oh," he could hear the relief in her tone, "It's just, you seemed...I dunno, weird around her."

"Well," Charles considered his response, then opted for changing track slightly, "Did you think she was flirting with me?"

"N-no, I...well, yes?" Sam stammered.

"I would say she's far more interested in you," his tone took on a deeper note.

"I...oh!" Sam blushed.

"Especially when you look like that," his voice was a low murmur as his fingers brushed along her collarbone.

Sam looked down at herself, then back up to him, "Like I just got off work?"

"Like you're good enough to eat," he'd pressed up against her, baritone rumbling through her, his lips delivering a firm kiss filled with delicious intentions.

"So…you were jealous?" she asked, expression slowly morphing from bashfulness to a knowing smirk.

"I’ll not dignify that question with an answer," he retorted, pulling her flush against him, intent on, well he wasn’t entirely sure really, but was on the cusp of doing it nonetheless.

Then the buzzer sounded, indicating the countdown was over and their time had begun.

"Shall we?" asked Charles gleefully, suddenly distracted by the prospect of a brand new challenge, though his appetite for her simmered just below the surface.

"Absolutely," grinned Sam.

They set about searching the ‘captain's quarters’, slowly finding clues which would then lead them to bits and pieces of puzzles that came together to reveal a secret door which brought them to another part of 'the ship'.  Charles couldn't help but be impressed with how quickly Sam took to this style of problem-solving, swiftly picking up on how and where to look for things, her mind working a mile a minute.  Sam, in turn, found herself quite fascinated with Charles' approach to each part of the escape room, seeming to have an idea as to where to find the fragments that built the whole picture; though he often let Sam search first.  They made a fantastic team, each seeming to bolster where the other lacked; Charles’ intuition supplementing Sam’s uncertainty, and Sam’s narrow focus able to determine how each element connected, when Charles occasionally had some trouble shutting out the noise of other particulars. 

Though tonight, his thoughts mostly revolved around Sam, and he would have certainly been defeated had she not been there.  Throughout the entire escape quest, a part of him remained honed in on her, even more so as they approached the endgame.  Sam looked to the screen in the corner of the room and saw they had five minutes left.  They had reached the final level, and Sam was bent over the last puzzle; figuring out the code to 'start the submarine'.  Even with the time crunch, and the blaring of false sirens, Charles' mind was now solely on Sam. 

Seeing her bite her lip in concentration while absently brushing her hair out of her eyes as she pored over the clues they’d gathered, Charles just had to spin her towards him and kiss her deeply, taking his own breath away.  Observing her sincere excitement over figuring out all of the puzzles, working with him to solve the riddles, sometimes trying to beat him to it; he had never experienced anything quite like this...not even with Gwen - and he'd once been convinced she was the love of his life.  Maybe now...with Samara...just maybe...A sudden piercing klaxon indicated they needed to input the final code.  Sam turned to Charles, and he gestured for her to do it, surprised when she shook her head and said, "Together."

She gripped his index finger and used it to tap in the code, which she must have just deciphered.  The loud cacophony of alarm bells was instantly silenced, and they watched the screen in front as it mimicked their 'submarine disembarking from the ship’, jetting off to a happy ending.  They'd managed to 'escape the room' with 20 seconds to spare, and Sam let out a loud whoop while Charles laughed genuinely, her celebration of victory infectious, particularly when she looped her arms around his neck and kissed him joyously.

"Welp," came Cyra's voice from behind them as she entered the room, "I guess you beat it."

"Was there ever any doubt?" smirked Charles.

"Always a healthy dose of it," jibed Cyra as she pulled up a chair, notebook in hand, "Now tell me, what improvements do you think could be made to the puzzles? Were there any issues?"

Cyra jotted down notes as Sam and Charles spoke, even taking several pictures of certain parts of the room setup for reference.  When she turned back around from one particular shot, she jumped to see Sam standing directly behind her, holding out her phone.

"W-would you mind taking a photo of us?" Sam asked shyly, not seeing the light blush blooming across Charles' cheeks, "I really enjoyed this, and I'd like a picture to commemorate it."

"Of course," nodded Cyra, grinning madly, having known precisely how Charles felt about the brunette in front of her the second they'd walked into Escapade, "Though remember, you can't post it anywhere."

"Right," Sam nodded, moving to stand beside Charles, making sure to have the submarine control panel in the background.

"Okay you two, sayyyyy 'love'!" called Cyra, laughing when Charles scowled and looked rather flustered all of a sudden, "Just joking, Jones, keep your pants on."

Sam giggled along with her, turning to steal a glance at the Welshman.  She noted how stiffly he was standing next to her with his arm at her back, so she tugged on his free arm, effectively pulling him closer.  She wrapped it around her waist so that they stood in a much warmer embrace than previously, her cheek resting on his chest, oblivious to the expression of pure happiness on his face.

"That's the one," Cyra nodded, snapping a still of the moment, solidifying it in time before it could flit back out of existence.

"Thank you!" Sam beamed, stepping forward as Cyra handed her the phone, feeling a jolt inside her chest on looking at the image of her with Charles.

"You're very photogenic, Bunty," she heard his deep voice sound from over her shoulder, able to feel his warmth at her back.

"N-not as much as you," she returned, smiling at Charles.

"Ok so next," Cyra tried to take back control of the conversation, "Let's go over plot po-"

"I'm sorry, Cyra," interrupted Charles, "But we need to get going to dinner as we haven't eaten since lunch.  However, you are welcome to email me your questions and we will most certainly provide our feedback."

"Fair enough," nodded Cyra, gesturing for them to leave the room ahead of her.

As they all walked toward the front entrance, Sam turned to Cyra and said, "Thank you for letting me beta with Charles, that room was so much fun!"

"Well you're welcome back with him," she held her hand up to her mouth, blocking her words from Charles, "Or without him, anytime, sweetheart."

"Yes, another top notch room, Cyra," added Charles.

"Not top notch enough to defeat you," she sighed, "I'll get you next time."

"We shall see," Charles replied challengingly.

"Until then," Cyra mimed tipping an imaginary hat as the two exited, Charles nodding and Sam waving.

"Well, Bunty, where would you like to go for dinner?" he asked, leading them to the car.

"Hmm," she thought about saying something along the lines of 'Your place, with dinner being you', but then had a thought that was very mischievous, even for her, "How about that Italian restaurant we went to? With the tiramisu?"

"Interesting choice," he smirked, opening the passenger side door for her and making a sweeping gesture with his arm toward the car, "By all means."

"Thank you, kind sir," she mock curtseyed then got in, still smiling when Charles situated himself into the driver's seat.

As they drove to the restaurant, they talked about what extra feedback they would give Cyra regarding the escape room, with Sam taking notes on her phone.  Soon enough, they were parked and walking up to the familiar glass windows, the aroma of Italian cuisine wafting outward, bringing Sam back to the discussion they'd had when last there.  She approached first and held the door open, gesturing for Charles to go ahead of her for once.

"Samara-" he started to protest.

"I insist, Mister Jones," she replied resolutely.

He chuckled and raised his hands in defeat, walking ahead and waiting for her at the hostess stand.  As luck would have it, they were seated in the exact same booth as previously, though this time Charles chose to sit on the cushioned seat beside her, marvelling at how far they'd come, how far he'd come since then.  Looking over the wine list, Charles opted for a glass of Sangiovese; something about the 'full-bodied red fruit' in the description drawing him in, and Sam asked for a glass of non-alcoholic rosé.  As they sipped their respective drinks, they perused the food menu, Charles not noticing his arm automatically drifting around Sam, and Sam not even registering that her hand was on his thigh.  She suddenly felt a bit shy when she turned to look up at him and ask, "W-why don't we order something for each other?" 

"I like that idea," smiled Charles, "Just, nothing too spicy for me, it gives me an embarrassing case of the hiccups."

"M-me too," replied Sam, absolutely endeared that they both had the same issue with it, "Though I almost want to, I bet your hiccups are adorable."

"Hardly," scoffed Charles.

The waiter approached to take their orders, Sam lifting the menu to point at what she wanted to order for Charles, and the Welshman doing the same with his choice for her.  Once the server left, they relaxed a bit further into each other, quietly observing and occasionally commenting on their surroundings.  That is, until Sam's hand started to slide slowly up Charles' leg, at the same pace as the smirk sliding across his features.  Her hand was just brushing over his groin when he gripped her fingers and leaned down to whisper in her ear, "We have about ten minutes or so before the food arrives," he felt her shudder, "I think our time would be better spent finishing what I started in this very booth those weeks ago, don't you?"

Sam bit her bottom lip and looked up at Charles, her obvious agreement reflected in her eyes.

"Perhaps you'll be better at keeping quiet this time," he murmured, fingers gliding along her skin, nudging beneath the edge of her skirt.

Sam took a shaky sip of her sparkling rosé as Charles' hand connected with the crease where her leg and hip met, almost doing a spit take when he dragged his fingers across her clit.  She gripped the stem of her glass so tightly, she was sure it would break when he began running deliberate circles around her highly sensitized pearl.  She was glad for the tall tables and the thick table cloth - not to mention their dark, fairly secluded corner - as his thumb moved to caress her clit while two fingers slowly found their way inside of her.  He could feel how wet she was and adjusted his sitting position enough to ease a bit of the strain in his trousers, inspired by her as always.  He was watching her face, both amused and aroused by her attempts at keeping quiet, when they both knew how loud she was capable of being, her teeth clamping hard enough into her lip, he wouldn’t be surprised if she drew blood.

"You look a bit flushed there, Bunty," he teased, adding a little more pressure against her clit.

She tried to glare at him as she stutteringly retorted, "W-ell y-you'll be fl-fluuuushed later w-when I'm riii-riding you h-hard."

"Is that so?" he raised an eyebrow, fingers curling upward on every stroke inside of her.

"Y-yes," she breathed, "I'll t-take your cock soooo d-deep-"

He cut her off with a kiss, unable to hear more lest he take her right there on the table, public be damned.  He increased his speed, biting her bottom lip as he did, able to feel her tightening around his digits.  He brought his mouth next to her ear, and murmured, "And I will be so deep inside you that you will feel every inch of me, nay, every centimeter as it connects with your centre, so full, so tight, I will make you see stars."

The twist of his wrist, the swipe of his thumb, the heat in his words, but mostly the depth of his voice and the picture he evoked brought Sam crashing powerfully through her climax.  Her fingers dug into his arm as she came, the soft moan she would have emitted muffled by his lips suddenly on hers.  Luckily, it seemed they were far enough away from other customers that the small noises she had made went unnoticed; they were in their own little world.  He gently stroked her down and then took his hand from her, surreptitiously bringing his fingers to his mouth, well aware of Sam's darkened gaze on him as he licked them clean.

"I told you, you look good enough to eat," he said as he reached for his wine, taking a small sip before turning to look her directly in the eyes, "And I just had to have a taste."

Sam was pretty certain she was about to launch herself at him, and would have, if their food hadn't arrived at precisely that moment.

"Alright, we have rack of lamb for you, Sir," the server smiled as he placed a plate in front of Charles.

The blond shot an amused look at Samara, catching her own smirk when the waiter announced her dish, "And for you, Miss, the goat cheese ravioli."

As soon as they were alone again, they both laughed at one another and began tucking into their meals, commenting on the flavours, each trying some of the other's dish. It wasn't long before the food was gone and their plates had been removed, both leaning complacently against the seat's backing, fingers interlaced and resting atop Charles’ thigh.

"I'm so stuffed," groaned Sam.

"It was quite filling," agreed Charles, "But do you think you can make room for dessert?”

"Tiramisu again?" she smirked at him.

"Actually, there's another coffee confection here I think you'd enjoy," he peered at her out of the corner of his eye.

"Hmm," Sam shifted so she sat more comfortably, "Only if you share it with me."

"Gladly," he smiled, silence once again drifting in until Sam broke it.

"So," she started, trying to affect an air of nonchalance while sipping the last of her rosé, “Where to after this?”

"Well perhaps we could go for a long stroll? Or to the theatre? Or even-"

Charles was cut off by Sam's finger resting across his lips, "Easy there, smartass," her eyes glinted in the dim lighting, pupils wide, "I more meant your place or mine."

He kissed the pad of her finger and answered, "Yours is closer."

"Perfect," she smiled, leaning against him while they digested enough to move more freely; he leaning his head atop hers while they waited.

When the waiter walked by, Charles flagged him down to order dessert.

"What can I get for you?" asked the server, smiling at the couple.

"The Affogato al caffe," replied Charles, his impeccable Italian inspiring fresh stirrings between Sam's thighs.

"Wonderful," nodded the waiter, "Specialty?"

"No," both Charles and Sam spoke at the same time, the blond chuckling as he continued, "No, thank you.  But do you, by chance, have honeycomb?"

"We do," nodded the server.

"Then we'll have that if you please, with two spoons."

"Absolutely," nodded the server as he went to place their order.

By the time Charles had finished describing Affogato to Sam, it had arrived in all its espresso and honeycomb covered glory.  Sam grabbed a spoon first and scooped a generous portion onto it, bringing it to Charles' lips.

"You have the first taste," she said softly.

He opened his mouth and she slowly slid the spoon forward, watching his lips close around it, and then following the bob of his slender throat as he swallowed.

"Ah they used gelato," he sighed, savouring the lingering taste.

"Is that good?" she asked, watching him pick up a bite for her with the other spoon.

"It's eccellente," he smirked, though it was wiped completely away as he observed Sam poke her tongue out to lick a small bit off the spoon he held before her lips.

"Oohh that's delicious," she groaned, taking the rest into her mouth, not noticing a small drop of gelato fall onto the swell of her breast until she followed Charles' gaze.

Not removing her eyes from Charles', she slowly moved a finger to swipe the cream from her skin, then brought it to his lips, shuddering when they closed around the pad of her finger, his tongue swirling over the tip.  He was getting close to the brink of his tolerance for all of this teasing, and could see Sam was too, so he leaned forward, voice deep as he said, "Seeing as you seem to have an affinity for 'dirty talk' today, Samara, why don't you describe to me what it is you're looking for."

She stared at him defiantly, part of her knowing how badly she ached for him, but another part able to see how desperate he was for her answer and wanting to push him a bit, make him experience the absolute need she felt – not knowing he had never stopped feeling the same.  Charles lifted a hand to gently grip her jaw, voice low as he said "Tell me what you want, Samara."

She blushed, but relayed her thoughts, "I-I want you t-to take me home and..." she swallowed, clenching her eyes shut reflexively, then opening them so she could see his reaction, "F-fuck me so hard I forget my own name."

She was rewarded by the darkening countenance on his features, while he grew ever harder at her words, so close to throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her out. 

His voice rasped as he said, "One amendment, if I may," then tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and leaned in even closer so that their cheeks brushed together, "How about I take you home and fuck you so hard you forget every name but mine."

The rest of their Affogato was abandoned in their hurry to get out of the restaurant, Charles having paid the bill when they'd ordered dessert.  The walk to his car was brisk and the second he was in his seat, door closed behind him, they were peeling away from the curb.  He'd wanted to descend upon Sam the instant they were alone, but he knew he wouldn't be able to stop once they'd begun.  He wasn't surprised when he felt her hands on him as they drove, biting his own lip and working to keep his focus on the road while she undid his trousers.  He inhaled sharply when she pulled his length free of his clothes and gave him a few languid strokes, yet his foot damn near slipped off the gas pedal when her lips suddenly closed around his tip, warm tongue laving overtop.

"S-Samara," he stuttered, slowing the car's speed down just a touch, "This i-sn't, Crist...fuck, Bunty, you'll r-run us off the rooooad," he ended with a moan.

"Then I guess you should concentrate harder," she teased, right before her mouth slid down his cock, taking him to her throat with a swallow.

A loud horn sounded in their direction as Charles struggled to maintain control, able to bring it about by silently running through escape rooms in his mind.  When that didn’t work, he tried humming God Save the Queen, Sam repeating her motions in the meantime, as though trying to sway his focus.  Only a few minutes later, and he was pulling into a horrible parking job on the road outside of her building, Sam's head popping up curiously, recognizing her place.

"You weren't kidding about being close," Sam laughed, tucking him back into his pants.

"You have no idea," growled Charles, pulling her up for a bruising kiss.

They disembarked quite rapidly, Sam's pace quickening with the encouragement of a playful yet firm swat on the behind from Charles.  As soon as she'd stepped onto the landing for her floor, Charles scooped her into his arms and carried her down the hallway to her apartment, muttering about her short legs not being fast enough.  He bent his knees so she could unlock her door and turn the knob, allowing him to kick it open and place her on her feet just inside.  He locked the door behind them and spun around, pulling Sam roughly into a hard kiss, bodies pressed together, hands everywhere.  Their earlier tête-à-tête echoed around them, about hard fucks and forgetting names, and while the words spoke to their desires, both of them knew that what they were doing wasn't simply fucking, it never had been. 

Sam's fingers deftly undid his vest and began working on his dress shirt, while he unbuttoned hers and reached beneath it to unfasten her bra.  They released each other long enough to lower their arms so their garments drifted to the floor, the rustling sound like music to their ears as time momentarily slowed.  Then, they were back to frenziedly working off each other's lower body vestments, eyes taking in the sight of one another’s exposed skin.  Kicking everything aside as their lips rejoined, Sam's fingers roughly tugged Charles' blond tresses, while his etched their courses along her skin, including meandering down to slide between her slick folds, and dance lightly across her clit before withdrawing.  She shifted to link her hands behind his neck, as if knowing that his next move would be to bend his knees and lift her upward, she wrapping her legs securely around him as he did so.  What she hadn't anticipated was him continuing to raise her up, then lower her onto his erect cock, letting gravity slide him home within.

"Oooh," her groan was guttural and spurred him into thrusting into her several times where he stood.

"Hold tight," he murmured, keeping her against him as he walked them to her bedroom.

The sway in his step caused her to bounce on him slightly, effectively thrusting her onto him again and again, making his stride falter.  She let out a collection of noises as they went, only pausing to bite down on the curve of his neck, satisfied on seeing the mark she left there.  She let out a soft, "Hah!" when the angle changed drastically as he lowered her down to the bed, still remaining inside of her.  He stayed, pushing into her several times at a leisurely pace before pulling out so he could get on the bed as well.  He was pleasantly surprised when she pressed into his shoulder, indicating for him to lie on his back.

"I did say I would ride you," she smiled coyly as he lay down along the centre of the bed, knees bent.  

She stepped one foot over him, bringing it to rest beside his hip, and the other to plant on the bed between his legs.  Charles watched with darkened eyes as she lowered herself down to settle on his pelvis, her arms propping her up from behind so that she was effectively sitting sideways across his lap.  It was a position Monica had shown her, a snap of her sex position calendar from Kosmo, and Sam had been intrigued by it, having also heard Vikki agree that it was quite a rewarding position.  Sam reached down and guided the tip of his length to meet with her entrance, raising her hips up before sliding down onto him and settling, ass to pelvis.  It was his turn to groan as he felt her velvety walls once more closing around him, his cock twitching inside of her as she rolled her hips in a bit of a circle.

"Oh fy nuw, Bunty," he moaned, reaching to grip her thigh as she began slowly lifting herself back up, in order to drop down once again.  

His eyes were fixated on her breasts as they bounced with her motions, the pert nipples just calling for his touch.  He couldn't help but oblige them, reaching with his free hand to pinch and roll one of the taut peaks, flicking it lightly.  She increased her speed in response, breaths coming quickly, muscles straining.  Charles was very much enjoying the view, but found that he wanted, needed, her to be closer, close enough to hold.  He pressed down on her thigh, indicating for her to stop, before lowering his legs flat and guiding her to pivot until she was sat astride him.  She took the opportunity to thrust herself onto him a few more times, enjoying how his eyes rolled slightly back, before she was once again halted by his firm grip on her legs. 

He brought himself to sitting and lifted her enough that he could cross his legs beneath her, her perfect bottom fitting into the space as if it were made for her.  She brought her own legs to cross as best she could behind him, feeling him slide even deeper within her, possibly the deepest he'd been; in more ways than one.  Like this, she was able to gaze into his eyes, searching for something there, and while she wasn't entirely sure what that was, she was certain that she could see it.  He kissed her tenderly, his hands against her back, pulling her close to him while her fingers drifted upward to tangle in the hairs at the back of his neck. 

His own continued sliding downward until they cupped her rear cheeks, guiding her movements as she began grinding onto him, rubbing her clit against him in a way that had her scrabbling perilously to stay on this side of an orgasm.  She wanted him to go with her, desperately needing for them to feel it together.  Sam focused on the feel of his lower lip between her teeth, and the timing of her breathing to help keep her hold steady as she swiveled her hips against him faster and faster, feeling his fingers flex erratically into her flesh.

"Come with me, Charles, please," she whimpered against his lips, hearing him groan in response before rasping, "Always, Bunty."

She added just a small amount of lift to her movements, once, twice, and suddenly she felt him spilling into her, pulling her with him along the current as they raced over the edge, clinging fiercely to one another, names shouted in variations of ecstasy and relief.   And it was right then, in that very moment between blindingly overwhelming sensation and return to reality, that Charles felt a fundamental shift between them.  Something deep, something paramount...like all of a sudden he could breathe properly, or as though he was just now feeling the warmth of the sun after a long hard winter, the rays spilling across his face and chasing away the vestiges of frost.  He kissed her softly, then firmly, then chastely, then slowly placed more all over her face, her forehead, her cheeks.  He wanted nothing more than to hold her like this forever, but felt he could maybe settle for a few minutes longer. 

Finally, when a chilled shiver ran across both of them as their sweat began to evaporate, he helped her up off of him and then watched lazily as she dismounted from the bed before turning to smoothe her hand over his forehead, brushing back his wild hair.

"I'm going for a quick shower," she murmured, tracing a path from the centre of his hairline, down over his nose, smiling when he kissed her finger as it crossed his lips.

"I will join you shortly," he said quietly, "You go on ahead."

He watched her walk out, the sight of her behind as she stepped instigating a second coming, so to speak, of his arousal.  He'd always known, since the very beginning, that once he started with Sam, he'd have trouble stopping, and here he was, unable to ever get enough, and still not entirely sure how to convey that to her.  He shook his head as he got up and made for the bathroom, the clouds of steam spilling out from the running water not even remotely obscuring his vision of her leaning on the edge of the sink as she eyed herself in the mirror.  She'd been trying to comb some tangles out of her hair with her fingers when she'd caught her reflection, uttering, "Ugh, I look-"

"Breath-taking?" Charles murmured as he slid behind her, hands gripping the sink edge on either side of her.

"Yeah right," she scoffed, turning her head so he had access to her lips.

She could feel his erection against her behind, nestled between her cheeks, already throbbing.

"Again?" she giggled, wiggling against him.

"Yes," his voice was low and rough, arm reaching around so he could stroke her clit.

"Mmm," she moaned, knuckles white as her grasp on the sink tightened, "Should we get in-"

"No," he said abruptly, "Right here."

He brought the hand not currently pleasuring her to guide his length to her core, pushing in at a torturously slow pace, smirking when Sam pushed her hips back to meet him.  He looked up and frowned slightly when he noticed that her head was bowed, reaching forward to guide her chin upward until she was once again facing her reflection.

"I want you to watch yourself while I take you," he commanded, stroking her cheek, cock still deeply seated within her.

He saw her bite her lip self-consciously, eyes flitting to the side before darting up to look at him through his reflection when he said, "Samara."

He pulled back and thrusted into her once before continuing, "I want you to understand how beautiful you are, to me, to yourself.  I need you to see what I see."

She nodded, a whispered, "Okay," floating up between them.

His fingers continued their ministrations on the small bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs while he started a gentle pace of thrusting into her from behind.  Knowing that she was watching herself, able to observe what it was he did to her, and in turn, what she did to him, was intoxicating; he made a mental note to get full-length mirrors for both of their bedrooms.  He added a precise twist to his movements, well aware that he was hitting the exact spot inside of her that made her jaw slacken, and that she was able to see it in the mirror.  For her part, Sam most certainly was able to see herself, but she was also watching Charles.  Seeing that particular view of him as he drove into her brought her dangerously close, and she reached her hand back toward him, feeling the fingers of his free hand interlace with hers.

"Watch, Samara," his voice was strained, but still held its authoritative tone, "I want you to see how absolutely stunning you are when you come apart."

She was so close; he knew it, and she knew he knew it.  It only took one word from him to finish her off.

"Come."

And she did, wonderfully, intensely, thoroughly, sounding it out in the shape of his name.  She was able to see the look on his face as he watched her, just before he reached his own release, accompanied by her name passing his lips in a tone of deep affection.  It was unmistakeable.

"Did you see it?" he asked between kisses to her shoulder blades, "How strikingly beautiful you are?"

"I see how beautiful you make me feel," she replied, turning to face him, taking his face in her hands, "And how devastatingly breath-taking you are."

They pressed their foreheads together, noses touching as they experienced the moment; Sam feeling connected to him in a way that had previously seemed hindered, but no longer, while Charles felt undeniably open before her and, for once, he wasn't afraid.

"Perhaps we should hop in the shower before the hot water runs out," he suggested, kissing her softly.

"It would be your fault if it did," she teased, climbing in and tugging him along behind her.

They showered quickly, washing each other with a familiarity that accompanied habit, then dried off just as quickly before settling into Sam's bed.

"I hope Bowser is enjoying his murder mystery marathon with Ms. Whipple," commented Charles as they both felt their eyelids growing heavy.

That simple comment, that he was thinking about Bowser while holding her tightly to him, together with her in her bed; Sam knew exactly how she felt.  She may have never voiced it aloud to anyone before, but she was certain this was what she was feeling, had been feeling, and it was both freeing and terrifying.  But it thrummed strongly through her, from head to toe, as she replayed all of their interactions, particularly the more recent ones, in her mind; clearly able to see that he felt the same, even if he wasn’t yet capable of seeing it himself.  For her, that was okay. 

He’d been hurt by someone he’d once trusted, once loved, and one didn’t get away from that without some kind of scars.  While Sam bore hers physically, she knew his ran deep and she wanted to kiss them just as he did hers, be the balm to ease the pain they held in place, maybe even helping him to heal somewhat.  She wanted to say the words to him, though knew it was a large gamble on how he would react, and even if he couldn’t say reciprocate, she would know how she felt and that he was trying his best to show her the same; and that was enough for her.  As he always would be, more than enough.  Sam looked over, fairly certain Charles had fallen asleep while she'd been musing internally, even more so when he silently shifted so he laying on his side with his back toward her, eyes remaining closed.  She curled up against his back, listening to his deep even breathing, finally mustering the courage to whisper "I love you," out into the dark.

She was happy that she'd spoken it aloud, even if he hadn't heard her, and she knew soon she would be able to tell him when he was awake.  Maybe not tomorrow, or the next day, but it would be when the moment was right.  With that in mind, she let her eyes fall shut, the events of the day catching up with her, and she was soon slumbering peacefully, unaware of what it was she'd just done.

Charles' eyes were wide open as he lay on his side, facing away from Sam.  Her words echoed loudly in his mind and he brought his hand up to grip his chest as an odd feeling swept through him.  It was as though his heart had previously been in some kind of suspension, numb, frozen into a glacial prison, one that she’d slowly begun to unlock.  But her words...spoken so purely, so genuinely, had completely obliterated whatever had been still holding his heart hostage; leaving it fully exposed.  He smiled, letting out a soft "Hah," of what he supposed was relief, as a singular tear trickled down across his cheek and onto the pillow. 

However, it was a very short-lived feeling as a different type of chill began to overtake him, starting in his feet and slinking its way up to swirl darkly around his newly vulnerable heart.  She loved him.  He had gone and gotten her to fall in love with him.  And he...he'd gone too far.  He, the damaged, the broken, the unworthy...he didn't deserve her love, no matter how willing she was to give it to him.  Even now, he still believed he couldn't return the gesture; his denial was thicker than blood, it seemed.  Suddenly, all of the feelings that Griffiths had re-ignited with his unwarranted visit, all of the mutterings of his dark inner voices, all of his deep-set insecurities came barrelling to the forefront, Charles' heart clenching painfully at the kaleidoscope of emotions warring for dominance…until one emerged victorious.  He took a few steadying breaths and very carefully got up from the bed, trying his utmost to not disturb Sam. 

He grabbed his phone and went to the bathroom, closing the door behind him.  He dialled a number he'd come to memorize after the many nights spent staring at it as he'd struggled internally with a potentially devastating decision.  It rang on the other end until a 'click' and the sound of a woman's voice came through, "Mr. Jones? What has you calling at this hour?"

"I've come to a decision about your offer," he replied, hand still over his heart.

"And what's your answer?" 

"...Yes."

Chapter Text

Song suggestion:  At the words "Sam was deep in thought..." (or the whole chapter really) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ANWRhyp-RcM

Charles watched as the minute hand on Sam's clock hit the 7 am mark, indicating he'd been awake for the past 6 hours, ever since he'd accepted the Ellesmere position.  It had been rash, impulsive, poorly thought out...but he’d felt it was the right thing to do.  To not subject Sam to an even stronger potential for heartbreak; he already knew he would be hurting her as is, though it was for her own good.  He'd alternated between sitting, pacing, berating himself, considering going back to his own apartment and leaving her a note, then yelling internally at himself for being so cold.  He’d tried pacing, to the point where he’d memorized every single creak in her floor enough to know how to avoid them all. 

He’d tried getting some work done on his phone, but found he had not even a modicum of capability for focus, a mixture of fatigue and emotional turmoil acting as his undoing.  He even found himself sorely wishing that Bowser was there, so he would have someone to distract himself with, even someone to talk to; though his heart ached as he pictured the little chap’s reaction to his - what would like be perceived as - betrayal.  Finally, he’d simply given up on occupying his mind and flopped gracelessly onto the couch, coming to learn the pattern of sounds Sam's apartment emitted as he'd waited; though waited for particularly what, he was unsure. 

A large contributing factor to his restlessness was that he knew there was one thing that needed to be done relatively immediately, and he’d resigned himself to waiting anxiously for it to come to pass.  However, that anxiety only increased as the clock indicated it was late enough to allow for the time difference to be somewhat acceptable in the time zone of his intended phone call recipient.  He inhaled deeply as he scrolled through his contacts, finding the name he equally respected, and dreaded seeing, swiping to call and waiting as it rang on the other end.

"Jones?" came a tired gruff voice after several rings, "Do you have any idea what time-"

"I'm calling to tender my resignation," Charles' voice shook, both from his attempt to keep quiet and the sudden overwhelming emotion behind his words…and maybe a little bit of fear.

"What?...Hang on, let me wake up a bit," Samuel's voice sounded over the noises of rustling sheets and footsteps, likely him walking to a different room, "Now repeat that, Jones, I'm certain you didn't mean-"

"I meant what I said," the Welshman spoke firmly, "This is my 2 weeks' notice."

"Jones-" Samuel tried to interject, but Charles knew that if he let him, he would likely convince the blond to stay.

"I've accepted a position with Ellesmere, Vice President of Operations."

"Now just a min-"

"I apologize for the suddenness of this, it's just..." Charles trailed off as his ears picked up a sound from the direction of Sam's bedroom.

"Does this have something to do with Samara?" 

Charles didn't know if it was the softness in his employer's tone, the question he'd asked, or both that had him frozen, brain trying to process so many things at once, 'He knows? How does he know? Why would he think...How is he so correct?...How am I still alive?'  He was pulled from the internal slew of queries when he definitively heard the sound of Sam getting out of bed.

"Apologies, Mr. Young, I have to go," he said quickly before hanging up, sighing heavily just as Sam walked in.

"Morning," she smiled softly, "You were up early."

"I...yes, trouble sleeping," he shrugged noncommittally.

"Anything I can help with?" she asked, moving to sit beside him and tucking her fingers into his.

"Afraid not," he forced a smile and tapped their joined hands against her leg, "You should go and get ready."

"I was planning to shower," she smirked at him, standing and trying to tug him up with her, "Care to join me?"

"I thought I might go and grab breakfast actually," he replied, trying not to meet her eyes as they sought his own, his hand sliding over his hair to rest at the back of his neck.

"Oh, okay," she nodded, her smile fading as she took in his mood.

"How do lattes and breakfast sandwiches sound?" he asked, busying himself with grabbing his clothes.

"Sounds good to me," she answered, watching him with a considering gaze.

"Then I shall be back shortly," he paused to kiss her forehead as he passed her, not wanting to rouse her suspicions before he had a chance to figure out what exactly he was going to tell her.  

Her next question, however, had his hand just stopping short of the doorknob, "Are you alright, Charles?"

His outstretched fingers curled into a fist, resisting the urge to turn and run to her as he stayed facing the door, "Just bad dreams," he murmured before walking out, leaving a very uneasy Sam behind.

----

"Who was that?" Samantha asked drowsily as her husband walked back into the bedroom.

"Jones," Samuel responded as he sat heavily on the bed.  

The mixture of confusion and worry in his tone woke Samantha up a bit more, and she lay a comforting hand on her love's shoulder, "Is everything alright?"

"I don't believe it is," he sighed, placing his hand atop hers, "I'm going to have to fly back, Jones is trying to leave."

"What do you mean, leave?" Samantha questioned, concern creeping into her voice, mind immediately jumping to her daughter.

"He said he's accepted a position with Ellesmere," Samuel ran his free hand through his hair.

"Oh, well that's-"

"They're located in London."

"England?" Samantha sat up a bit straighter.

"Yes, my dear," Samuel turned his head to place a kiss to his wife's fingertips before standing up.

He walked for the doorway, already dialing his travel agent's number.

"He's running," murmured Samantha.

"What was that, my queen?" Samuel asked, turning with his phone to his ear.

"Nothing, my love," she smiled weakly, hoping Samuel would be able to talk Charles out of leaving...Young Technologies.

After a quick phone conversation, Samuel had booked a seat on the next available flight, the last first class one.  He hurriedly threw some things into a briefcase and turned just in time to see Samantha holding up a cup of coffee.

"Thank you, my heart," he smiled, taking a long draught from the mug.

As he drank, Samantha did his tie up for him, straightening it before laying her hands along his lapels, "Should I go with you?" she asked, having run the question over in her mind multiple times. 

"As loath as I am to be without you again, I think you’re most needed here for now," he soothed, cupping her jaw with his hands, "But I’ll let you know the instant that changes."

"I trust your judgement, darling," she pressed her lips to his in a soft kiss, one that spoke volumes of their love for one another.  It was with great reluctance that Samuel left their hotel room shortly after, having given Samantha no less than six lingering farewell kisses.  On the cab ride to the airport, he called up the Young Technologies head office, knowing Lucy would just be getting in.

"Hello, Mr. Young," came her confused voice as she answered, having seen his name on the call display, "Is everything alright?"

"I could ask the same of you," he replied gruffly, instantly regretting his tone as he realized that she probably knew nothing about Charles’ about-face.

"Th-things are fine here…" she trailed off, having no idea why her employer had spoken in such a way.

"Apologies, Lucy," he replied, "It’s just that I received a very unsettling call from Jones this morning."

"Is he okay?" asked Lucy, immediately worried.

"He accepted a job with Ellesemere," Samuel said tiredly.

"What?!” squawked Lucy, "But how could he do that to Sa-…us," she corrected herself lamely.

"No need for pretenses with me, Lucy, I already know," he sighed, "He didn’t give much by way of reasoning, unfortunately."

"I have a hard time believing that Charles would just up and leave," said Lucy skeptically.

"Well, believe it," replied Samuel, "I’m on my way to the airport now."

"I’ll arrange for a car to meet you on this end," he could hear the sound of keys tapping in the background as she turned all business, "Will you need expedited customs like how we did for the TekTak incident?"

"No," he answered, flinching slightly, "I only have carry-on."

"Very good, sir," he could practically hear her saluting through the phone.

"Lucy, I told you to stop calling me ‘sir’," he chided lightheartedly.

"Sorry, boss, it felt right in the moment," she replied sheepishly.

"You and your ‘moments’," he muttered amusedly, "In any case, I managed an early flight, I should be there by mid to late afternoon.  Do not let him leave until I get there."

"You got it," came the response.

Samuel was about to hang up, then had another thought, "Oh and Lucy?"

"Yes, boss?" she asked hesitantly.

"Not a word of this to anyone, no need to set people off if there’s a chance I can persuade Jones to stay."

"My lips are sealed," replied the redhead.

"That’s a first," he chuckled, ignoring Lucy’s indignant huff, "Call me if he tries leaving early."

"Will do."

Then both of them hung up and Samuel was once again awash with conflicting emotions; silently cursing Charles, yet simultaneously not wanting him to leave, having begrudgingly grown fond of the Welshman despite outward appearances dictating the exact opposite.  He hoped, both for Young Technologies’ and Sam’s sakes - and even Charles’ - that he would be able to convince the blond otherwise about leaving.  He had at least 5 hours to plan out what he was going to say to him - and for his mind to run wild on how all of this involved Sam – thinking perhaps he should also review some calming techniques so as to prevent himself from automatically throttling Charles on first sight.

----

Sam was deep in thought as she showered, not even realizing she’d shampooed twice before accidentally lathering body wash into her hair, quickly correcting herself on noticing.  Something about the way Charles was behaving had her feeling almost nauseous, like a lump was forming in her stomach, and growing by the second.  He’d seemed off earlier, and Sam had heard him speaking on the phone with someone, thinking to herself, ‘maybe Griffiths called again?’  But then, he’d told her about the last time Griffiths had called, and their confrontation in the parking garage, so there wasn’t really much reason for him to keep this from her – if that were the case. 

Maybe it was his mother calling about a family problem, or an issue with a client… ‘Or maybe you did something wrong,’ the internally spoken words shrouded her demeanour in darkness, lending a bitter cold.  Sam tried to shake it off, but found the pervasive thought sinking its teeth deeper and deeper into her, until she saw it as more of a likelihood than a mere possibility.  She paused in her thinking enough to dress herself, not wanting to accidentally don something completely ridiculous, then continued the stream of consciousness as she gathered her things.  It didn’t slow until her phone buzzed, indicating she had a text.  It was from Charles, stating that he was downstairs with breakfast. 

“He didn’t even want to come up?” she questioned aloud to the empty rooms around her, feeling tears trying to prick at the corners of her eyes, only just able to blink them back.  She hurriedly locked up her apartment and descended the stairs, unsure as to what awaited her.

Sam and Charles’ drive to Young Technologies was a quiet one, and not with the comfortable silence they'd both come to know when in each other's company.  This hush was one rife with anxiety, worry, doubt, and worst of all, fear.  Sam wanted badly to ask Charles what was bothering him, why he seemed so different compared to last night; when they'd embraced while riding the high together, how tender he'd been, his words, her heart...but she held it in, afraid that it might send him running.  She thought back over the end of the previous evening in her mind, combing tediously for things she might have done to offset him so.  Charles, meanwhile, was trying his hardest not to spill to Sam about Ellesmere, about how he was second guessing the decision, more strongly able to feel the undertones of regret over his impulsivity. 

A glance at Sam further solidified what he'd picked up on already; that she'd surmised something was amiss between them, and she was clearly worried about it, likely thinking she was to blame.  He hated himself for that.  Hated that he was doing this to her in the first place, that he was making her likely judge herself, thinking she'd done something wrong...when all she'd really done was love him.  'Is that really so wrong?' he asked himself internally, knowing what the response would be even before it hissed outward from the shadows, 'Yes, you're incapable; you could never return it, and she would come to resent you.'  He bit back a growl of frustration and drove into the parking garage, coming to a stop in his usual spot.  He felt small fingers on his own, stilling him before he could get out, and looked up to meet Sam's eyes.

"Charles, are you okay?"

"I'm...disconcerted, to say the least," he replied noncommittally, patting her hand lightly, "I promise I will explain later."

"Okay," she nodded uncertainly.

As they got out and walked toward the elevator, Charles vowed internally that he would indeed explain everything to her before the day was out, she deserved that much, 'she deserves so much more than you.'  The elevator was almost full capacity as they rode up, so Sam decided to keep her hands to herself, unsure as to what reaction would meet her.  She greatly missed today’s rendition of what had become a daily brushing of hands – and sometimes more – on the elevator, but her overwhelming uncertainty had taken the lead and she’d clasped her fingers together instead, letting them hang limply in front of her.  She exited after him and they walked into Young Technologies, both greeting Lucy half-heartedly - something that did not go unnoticed by the redhead - before continuing toward their offices.  Just as they were parting ways, Sam turned to Charles, voice sincere as she said, "I know you'll explain later, I just w-want you to know I'm here for you, my Prince, anything you need," squeezing his fingers lightly before ducking behind her door.

Charles could almost hear the sound of his heart breaking at that, at her naively misplaced trust in him, the love he most certainly had not earned, she giving it to him as though it were as natural a thing as breathing.  He shook himself and walked into his office, closing the door before sitting heavily into his desk chair, head in his hands as he repeatedly replayed everything in his mind; every glance, every secret kiss, all that he felt with her…all that she had made him feel.

He didn't know how long he stayed that way, but a soft knock had him looking up at the door, hoping it both was and wasn't Sam on the other side.

"Come in," he called, sitting up straight.

He breathed a mixed sigh of relief and mild disappointment as Umed walked in, though the expression on the raven-haired man's face soon had Charles wary again, waiting for him to speak.

"Charles, I overheard an odd conversation between Lucy and Mr. Young earlier...are...are you leaving?"

Charles sighed deeply, pushing aside the anxiety at his employer having called as he brought his eyes up to meet Umed's, "I was offered a job in London with Ellesmere, a managerial position with an excessively high salary."

"But, what about-"

"I had to make a decision, Umed, and from a business-oriented frame of mind, I made the right choice."

"Don't do this, Charles."

"You will all be fine without me, I'll be sure to train an excellent replacement."

"Are you that cold-hearted? Or...no, you're running."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Charles tried to busy himself fiddling with some loose papers on his desk.

"What changed?"

"We've been over this, I was offered a jo-"

"What. Changed." Umed’s voice brooked no argument, and yet still Charles bristled against the truth.

"Umed, I don't think this-"

"DID. I. STUTTER?"

Charles was completely taken aback by both the ice in Umed's tone and the fire in his eyes.  He was certain he'd never seen him this angry, and all he could do was stare back at him, mouth slightly agape.

Umed inhaled deeply before speaking more calmly, "Charles, you can tell me."

And then, because the door was closed, and because Umed had managed to wander onto the list of people Charles had filed away as 'trustworthy', the Welshman buried his face in his hands, voice breaking as he admitted aloud the very thing he'd been trying desperately to avoid thinking about, "She said she loves me."

"And what did you say?"

"She thought I was asleep…" Charles’ voice ran out mid-sentence, not that he really had the words to finish it anyway.

"So…she said she loves you, and you immediately take a job in London?" Charles flinched at the blatant disdain in Umed’s tone.

"It’s…complicated," the blond replied lamely.

"No shit,” Umed scoffed.

"It’s for her own good," it wasn’t just Umed who Charles was trying to convince.

"Fuck, Charles,” the dark-haired man shook his head, "Have you at least told her about Ellesmere?"

"No, I was trying to find the right way to do it."

"I'm not sure there is a right way," sighed Umed.

Charles looked up at his friend, keeping the emotion threatening to break across his face at bay, pausing just enough to collect himself to speak, "You really shouldn't have put your stock in me, Umed."

Before Umed could respond, they heard loud footsteps approach Charles' office, barely getting a chance to register what was happening before the door burst open.  Sam barged through it, a hardness to her gaze that Charles had never seen directed toward himself before.  Her voice was like steel, "I just heard something very interesting, Charles."

He could see Lucy just behind her, eyes wide, mouthing 'I'm so sorry'.

"Miss Young, I-"

"'Miss Young'? Really, Charles?" her voice was thick, but she held firm, eyes blazing.

"Let me give you two some privacy," interjected Umed carefully, palms up toward his friends as he slowly edged out, closing the door behind him.

He walked up to Lucy, voice hushed as he said, "I don't know how this is going to go."

"Let's hope somewhere happy," she replied grimly, moving to pull a key from her desk, tossing it to Umed who only just caught it.

"What's this for?" he asked, eyeing the piece of metal in his hand.

"We should lock the door for them," Lucy answered, "So they're not interrupted."

"Good call," nodded Umed, inserting it into the lock and twisting it, making it so the door was only openable from the inside.

And it was just beyond that door where Sam and Charles were staring each other down; or rather, Sam was glaring, while Charles was fiercely attempting a neutral expression.  

"It wasn't Lucy's business to-" started Charles, his tone similar to the day he'd first tested Sam, when he'd threatened Lucy's job.

"She thought I already knew," Sam cut him off caustically, "Which makes sense really, seeing as I'm your assistant - and apparently nothing more...Yet here I am, dumbfounded and feeling like an idiot."

"That was not my-"

"I am not finished," she seethed, letting her anger take the reins, for she was afraid that if she doused it, there would be nothing left but desolation and tears; and right now he was the last person she wanted to break down in front of, "What the hell, Charles?  After what we shared last night, you go and...what happened? I don't understand how we got from there to here in less than 12 hours, I honestly have whiplash," she crossed her arms, awaiting his response.

"May I speak now?" he asked testily.

"By all means," she spoke coldly through clenched teeth, gesturing with a mock magnanimity.

"A job opportunity came up, one with a high paying salary, excellent pension, comprehensive benefits, and speaks to my experience in management.  I would be a fool to turn it down," 'You're a fool either way,' Charles' demons were taunting him as he spoke more lies to Sam, the one person he never wanted to give anything but the truth to.

"Bullshit," he was momentarily stunned by the unexpected expletive that crossed her lips, "There's more to this, and I don't understand why you won't tell me.  After everything I said about honesty, how I've always been truthful with you," her voice began to raise in volume, "How you said you'd talk to me if you were uncomfortable...were you always lying?"

"I believe I told you once before," Charles' voice was frigid, feeling deeply hurt by her words, even though he knew he'd earned every single one, "I am not very fond of being called a liar."

"Then what is the truth?!" she demanded, hands thrown out to either side in exasperation.  Then she took a calming breath and continued, "Even...even now I'm still here for you, Charles, I'm willing to listen if you'll just explain."

She'd astonished him yet again, still able to give him the benefit of the doubt.  He could come clean...he could tell her the entire truth right now.  It would be easy, it would be warm...he would be loved.  But it was the simplicity of it that had him balking, choosing instead to use his words to push her away, make her think it was her choice to leave.  He was, as she said, a manipulator, and he still was convinced - rather obtusely - that he was doing it for her own good.

"The truth, Samara, is that your father returns in just over a week.  We've been relatively reckless up until now, do you really think he won't notice the stolen kisses? Or how we keep meeting behind closed doors? I don't know what fantasyland you're living in, but this was never meant to be sustainable."   

The expression on Sam's face was one Charles would forever have imprinted in his mind, simultaneously pushing himself to stand his ground while also wanting nothing more than to pull his words back in.  

When Sam spoke, her voice was raspy and weak, like she was having trouble catching her breath, "Not...sust...how dare...you," her words were wheezy, interspersed with gasps that grew in intensity until she had to lean heavily against the desk, her other hand clutching at her chest, eyes wide.

"Miss Young, are you..." Charles couldn't stop his concern from leaking into his voice as he took in her change in demeanour.  And then realization struck, "Samara, are you having an asthma attack?"

She nodded furiously, face red from the exertion of trying to breathe.  Charles reached for his desk drawer, having already figured that the time it would take to locate her bag and rummage through it was not worth risking her health for.  He pulled out the emergency inhaler, shaking it the second it was gripped between his fingers while moving to stand beside Sam.  His brain was quiet while his body operated as if on autopilot, one arm encircling her shoulders and pulling her to him while the other held her inhaler hovering in front of her lips.  She tried to clutch at it, but her hands were shaking too hard to get a grip, breaths almost completely surrendered to full on wheezing.

"Exhale fully, Bunty, please," his voice wavered, willing her to listen to him despite her anger.

She glared at him, but did her best, coughing with the first two attempts, but managing it with the third.  He quickly slid the mouthpiece between her lips and pressed the cylinder, hearing the sound of the medication spraying into her mouth, quietly encouraging her to breathe as deep as she possibly could.

"Hold your breath if you can, love," he said, struggling to maintain an outward sense of calm.

In his panic, he wasn’t monitoring his words, and the careless dropping of endearments only served to drive Sam's anger higher, though she was able to get some control over her breathing.

"Do you need another?" he asked softly, eyeing her as he held her firmly.

She merely nodded in response, both encouraged by the lessening of the rattle that had hindered her breaths.  He brought the inhaler up again and helped her with another dose, placing the device on his desk and pulling her close, breathing slowly and noisily so that she could match her breaths to his.  A few minutes afterward, he felt her palms plant on his chest in an attempt to push away from him.

"How's your breathing?" he asked, letting her lean back a few inches, but not yet relinquishing his hold on her.

"It's fine, let me go," she was trying to avoid eye contact.

"Not until you look at me," his voice was almost a whisper, yet still stern.

She brought her eyes to meet his defiantly, brown irises crackling with fury, "There. Now let. Me. Go."

"Samara..." he spoke with such heartbreak, such longing, that Sam felt her ire waver ever so slightly, a thought drifting through the cracks, down to land on her tongue, she breathing it to life.

"Is this because I said I lo-"

She was cut off by Charles' lips on hers, not willing to let her voice aloud the words that had acted as the catalyst for their current predicament, the ones that had shaken him to his core, terrified him.  This was messy, and damaging, and hurtful and he knew it; but he couldn't stop himself from pivoting them both so that he was pinning her against his desk, momentarily assured when she started kissing him back instead of pushing him away.  It appeared he would not be met without some kind of fight, however, as when his lips pressed bruisingly against Sam's, her fingers tangled into his hair and tugged harder than she normally would. 

He growled in response and bent his knees, gripping just behind her own and lifting her up onto his desk, settling between her legs.  Their kiss was a passionate one, but not one born from love; at least not only from love.  Her bites were hard to the point of pain, her frustration with him radiating outward, making itself known through her actions.  He let her have her moment, let her tug his hair so as to yank his head sideways, her teeth none too gentle on his neck, letting her grind against him roughly, her ankles locking behind him. 

She was so incredibly angry with him, but still, even now, couldn’t bring herself to hate him, not when she’d only just discovered the magnitude to which she loved him.  Perhaps knowing that he was choosing to leave right after her declaration should have made her truly see his capacity for harm; made her despise him.  But all she saw, was a man who was scared, who was letting his fear get the better of him, and she just couldn’t find it in herself to completely fault him for it, especially knowing the context of some of his past. 

What she did hate, was how wet she got from the almost painful force with which his fingers dug into her flesh.  Or at how she became even more turned on when his teeth sank into her neck, most definitely leaving a mark.  She knew she should push him away, tell him to leave, stop this before she had yet another scar, albeit one worn internally; but her hands seemed to be working of their own accord, her body wanting nothing more in that moment than for him to be inside of her.  While she clumsily undid his belt, he hoisted her dress up, fingers seeking her centre, deftly ripping off her panties when they stood in the way.  Maddened further, she grasped his length and pulled it from his pants, delivering several hard strokes just as his fingers mirrored the actions over her clit.  She guided his cock to line up with her entrance, and before he could move, she pulled him in with her crossed legs, right up until he was buried within her, both letting out hushed groans. 

He cupped her jaw and looked into her eyes, seeing a maelstrom of emotions roiling within, some more prominent than others, particularly...'Love. Still.  After everything I've done, everything I've said.'   He felt his own words beginning to construct themselves on the back of his tongue, against his will.  They were taking on a life of their own and just might spill out if continued to do nothing.  So he pulled her to him, into a deep kiss that was almost violent in its conception, trying to communicate one simple thought through it...I will miss you.  In rhythm with his embrace, he thrusted into her, her teeth clamping onto his bottom lip, fingernails digging into the flesh of his back.  He pushed into her again, and again, her small moans sounding above the sound of his desk scraping against the floor.  While it had escalated, his pace still seemed to be too slow for Sam as she hissed, "Come on, Charles, fuck me...I know you're capable."

He wasn't entirely sure why, but the way she'd said it sparked off his own anger, so he did as she asked.  He pounded into her roughly, hands pulling her further onto him, his speed ever increasing.  Between them, he felt her fingers drift down to rub across her clit, and his cadence became erratic as they both grew close.  He wanted to reach his peak with her, and also didn't want it to be over quite so quickly...as he knew it would be their last.  But her lips on his neck, her quiet plea, the movement of her hips...and the latter wish was decimated.  She went first, but was certain to pull him with her as her inner muscles squeezed around him, bringing them both to a denouement that rang across the otherwise heavy silence.

They stayed, clinging to one another as they recovered, until Sam seemed to come to herself again and she pushed him away; albeit with a bit less vehemence than before.  She hopped off his desk and pulled her skirt down, smoothing her clothes over while he righted himself as well.  Finally, when the disquiet had stretched on for just a hair too long, she steeled herself and stood before him, trying not to break.

"Why?" she asked, looking up at him, arms crossed over herself defensively.

"...Perhaps to try and convey what I cannot give words to," he replied softly, stopping himself from reaching out to her, busying his hands with adjusting his tie.

"What, you can't even say goodbye?" her voice regained its anger of earlier, "Because that's what it felt like."

"I..."

"You couldn't even tell me to my face," she bit her lower lip hard in an attempt to stem the flow of tears, "I told you, the one thing I valued the most was honesty, and you...Was I not worth it after all?"

"Of course you are, Bunt-"

"Don't," she interrupted angrily, finger pointed at him.

"I apologize," his voice broke, "You are always worth it, Samara.  Worth the trouble, worth the hardship, worth risking everything.  It is I who am not worth it…nor worthy."

"I thought I told you to let me decide that for myself," her tone was accusatory.

"Perhaps I felt there was no decision to be made, it's always been clear that I'm broken, and I will not impose that on you.  Not ever."

"Why do you always insist that you're so damaged? That you would damage me?"

"Because I know it to be true."

"How?" her voice had softened, fingers itching to curl around his.

"You may think to know me, Samara, but you've barely scratched the surface.  You've only seen what I've allowed," he could taste the pure falsehood of his words as they left his mouth, but he couldn't stop himself, her tears breaking his heart as they finally escaped her tenuous hold on them, "This has gone too far as it is, I should have known better than to..." he swallowed his truth, instead taking the crude path, "Than to fraternize with an employee." 

"Get out," she said it so quietly, he almost didn't hear her.

"I-"

"I said get out," her fists were clenched at her side, her entire body shaking with a mixture of anger and desolation, "I don't care if it's your office, I will not have you standing there, lying to my face.  So please leave…You can come find me when you're able to actually talk to me."

Charles closed his mouth so quickly that his teeth clacked together.  No matter where they went from here, he would never forget the look on her face, nor the tone of her voice, both of which held a rage that while not vitriolic, was still unmistakeably present, the heat of it licking hot flames along his icy exterior.  He held onto her gaze just a moment longer; his eyes walking the line between yearning to reach out, and an attempt to hold his ground, while hers showcased her hurt firmly wrapped within her fury.  He thought he'd perhaps even glimpsed a flash of…understanding? 'It's pity you pathetic fool, she could never understand you.'

He was the first to turn away, exhaling quietly as he walked out of his own office, able to just hear the sound of a muffled sob behind him before he pulled the door closed.  His heart slowly started pounding harder and faster, and he thought he could feel traces of panic trying to claw their way into him.  He strode rapidly toward the exit, ignoring Lucy and Umed's calls after him, only barely managing a terse, "I’ll be back," before dashing out.  He bypassed the elevator and took the stairs down to his car as they would be quicker. 

Within minutes, he was driving out of the parking garage and taking the shortest way possible back to his apartment, willing the traffic lights to all remain green for him, which miraculously, they did.  A hasty park job in his garage spot was followed by very brisk strides to the elevator, silently pleading for it to move faster as it climbed up toward the penthouse.  On watching the floor numbers ding by, his breaths started coming quicker, matching his already racing heart.  He could feel the stirrings of anxiety rising to a suffocating crescendo within him, but it wasn't until he was on the other side of his apartment door that he allowed the panic to manifest.  He looked wildly around his living room before he ran, half stumbling, over to his kitchen garbage.  He yanked the cupboard open so hard that the hinges groaned, and began digging haphazardly through the trash, several tears escaping from his eyes, not that he noticed.

"Where is it, why can't I find it?" he hoarsely cried out to the empty room, having still not found what he sought so fiercely.

Then in a desperate move, he pulled the garbage can out and dumped it on the floor, searching roughly through the coffee filters and sushi detritus.  But none of the mess registered as his eye caught a small gleam of metal rolling along the floor, coming to rest with a soft 'clink' against the window.  He grabbed the accompanying chain, which had fallen off at some point, and moved to sit on the floor with his back against one of the glass panes leading to the patio.  He plucked the gold band from the tiles, the familiar weight of it heavy in his palm as he stared at it, hating that in this moment, it was what moored him amidst his storming emotions.  His fingers closed tightly around it and he brought the fist, along with his free hand, to his face, head hanging into them as he cursed himself for being so weak.

----

Darin checked his watch for the thousandth time, foot tapping both with nervousness and anticipation.  He was here, he was still pissed, and he was ready.  He'd parked his brother's truck so that he had a clear path to a set of windows he knew belonged to Young Technologies, looking into what was probably a conference room of some kind.  He was currently biding his time, figuring right after lunch would be the best time to strike, as people would be moving around then.  He was going to take someone down for this.  They were going to pay for ruining his life, for being the incendiary source upending everything he knew and loved, everything he’d been comfortable with. 

He’d long surpassed the point where reason blurred into mania, and it took the last of his willpower not to plow into the building right then and there.  If he went through all this and didn’t even manage to take one single person down with him, then it would all have been as much of a waste as his time at NexTek had been.  Yet another perceived slight he added to the growing list of Young Technologies’ transgressions against him.  A tiny part of Darin’s mind knew that he was going too far, but it was smothered by both his rage and bitterness, his need for revenge far outweighing any type of peaceful outcome, as he only just grasped the reins on himself.  Waiting.

----

After Charles had all but run out, Sam had taken a moment to collect herself before crossing as quickly as she could to her own office, not quite making it in peace.

"Sam, are you okay?" Umed's voice asked from over her shoulder.

"I...I can't t-talk about this right now," she replied softly, shoulders slumped, not turning around lest she burst into tears on seeing his expression.

"I understand," her spirits were ever so slightly buoyed by the understanding in Umed's tone, "I'm here when you're ready."

"Okay," she nodded, back still to Umed as she walked into her office, closing the door behind her.

"How did it come to this?" she whispered out into the relative silence, "What happened?"

She sat down and quietly processed over the previous night; how she'd felt with him, and how without having said a word, she'd known he'd undeniably felt the same.  It had been true, genuine, and she knew she loved him.  

"That must be it," she murmured, "He must have heard me say the words."

'But to take a job on a completely different continent as a reaction?' she couldn't fathom what logic - or lack thereof - had brought him to such a drastic conclusion.  She supposed perhaps it was because all he had left to run on was fear; though whether it was being afraid of loving her back, or because he knew he couldn't return the sentiment that Sam was unsure of.  She hated how small he could make her feel, even though her feelings for him were so very big. 

At the same time, she still found herself wanting to be there for him, to see him through this just as she had his other moments of intensity; and that thought made her angry too, along with the raw sadness of it.  A sudden splash of something wet on her knee pulled Sam from her deep reverie, looking down to see a small damp spot on her skin.  She wiped it off just in time for another one to appear, followed by another.  She reached up to her face and found that her fingertips were wet with tears, she was crying again.  But this time she didn't know if it was for her, for Charles, or for the both of them.

Charles had managed to pull himself together enough to make and sip a coffee at his kitchen table, having found cleaning up the mess of trash he'd made to be somewhat calming.  He stood, watching the last minutes of his lunch hour come and go, and sighed heavily before leaving his apartment, locking up behind him.  He dreaded returning to the office, knowing he wouldn't be able to take seeing Sam crying again, and as such, the drive went by quickly.  His feet soon brought him through the entryway, which was blissfully free of any colleagues, and Charles began the walk to his office, steeling himself for when he would pass Sam's.  Immense relief warred with a feeling of emptiness as he saw that her office door was closed, she undoubtedly behind it, and his hand went straight for the ring in his pocket as he realized that in this moment, she was no longer transparent to him. 

This thought escalated his self-loathing to a point where his fingers itched to pack up his things and leave right now.  He didn't deserve a goodbye party, or to have parting words, or the card his colleagues would inevitably all sign for him with phrases of encouragement and luck.  Maybe it would be best if he finished out his time remotely, he was acting CEO after all, he could make the call himself.  Charles sequestered himself in his office and thought more on the possibility of following through with such a plan, of leaving early and without a word to anyone.  But then several faces flashed through his mind:  Lucy, Umed...Sam.  He knew they deserved better than that, and he was certain he wouldn't be able to bring himself to spurn them in such a way, even if hating him would make the departure easier on them. 

He didn't notice the time fly as his mind continued its tug-of-war over what to do, only making a movement of some kind when he felt his eyelids growing heavy.  This entire day had been incredibly draining, and Charles thought he would probably benefit from another cup of coffee.  He made for the kitchen, intending to get in and out as quickly as possible, but all hopes of that were dashed when he saw Sam there, having just poured a coffee for herself.  She looked up at his approach, their eyes meeting, neither entirely sure what to say to break the awkward silence.

"Are you ready to talk?" she finally asked, her voice was cold, but her eyes told a different story.

"I'm not certain I have the words you want to hear," he replied stiffly.

"At least they're words, unless it's just more lies," she crossed her arms.

"Nothing I've said was-"

"And there you go again," she scoffed, pushing past him in an attempt to storm from the kitchen.

She was halted, however, by a tug on her sleeve, looking back to see that Charles had a grip on her shirt and was guiding her toward the boardroom, voice low as he spoke through his teeth, "Perhaps your loud accusatory diatribe would be better had in a more private setting, away from prying ears."

She forcefully pulled her arm from his fingers, hearing a small tear in the fabric of her shirt as she swept into the boardroom, "You're damn right I'm going to be accusatory, and loudly too, it's the only way for you to actually hear me."

"Samara," he tried a placating tone, palms out toward her, "Please consider thinking before speaking, lest you say something you might regret."

"I don't regret anything," she retorted.  She'd been facing the window, but turned to level Charles with a steady glare as she added, "Including what I said last night."

"You said a lot last night," he smirked darkly, keeping the table between them, "You'll have to remind me."

"I know you heard me," the lowness of her pitch set off warning bells in Charles' mind, "It's the only possible explanation."

"Is that what you think?" What he said next physically hurt him, but he couldn't stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth, "That this is all because of something you said? Really, Samara, we've simply reached our expiration date, as has my role within this company.  I'm moving on to something better, and you should consider doing the same."

----

Outside, having slowly spun deeper into a manic state, Darin suddenly snapped to attention behind the wheel as he saw two people move into the boardroom, a man and a woman.  He thought it kind of looked like they were yelling at each other, and he could've sworn he recognized the man, but none of it mattered.  These two would now shoulder the blame for everything that had gone wrong, how ruined his life had become.  He started the truck and shifted into Drive, slowly pushing down on the gas pedal to gain momentum, then gunning it, heading straight for the large windows.

----

For a brief moment, Sam looked as if she'd been struck across the face, though was quickly able to school her features back into an expression of rage, "You use words as though they were weapons," she spat, "And I can see them for what they are, a last ditch attempt at preventing yourself from admitting the truth, but you forget, Charles, I can see right through you."

Whatever reply Charles had been forming died along with the contrived snarl on his features as he focused on something through the window behind her.  It was a truck...a truck heading directly for them, and Sam didn't see it.  Everything he had just felt during their argument was instantly swept away, replaced by only one strong emotion.  He stood frozen in shock and time slowed to an absolute crawl.  Charles saw the truck edging closer to Sam and suddenly, a burst of images cascaded through his mind.  It was every intimate moment they'd ever shared – the long embraces, their foreheads pressed together, hopes and desires whispered out in the night, moving in tandem as they found their release within one another - except she'd been removed. 

His life without her was flashing before his eyes and it ignited the feeling of an insurmountable change within himself.  It was almost as if there was a sudden glow that encapsulated his heart, like he could feel a light bursting from inside, as ridiculous as it sounded to him, banishing the dark words of his inner thoughts three-fold.  It overtook him, wiping away his doubt, anger, hurt, and denial with an overbearing wave that left him feeling strangely calm in the face of very imminent danger.  He knew precisely what he needed to do then, like the answer had always been clear, he'd just had to decipher the question. 

He lunged forward and slid across the table, just barely taking in Sam’s expression of utter surprise as he used the momentum of his landing to push her toward the wall, out of harm’s way.  Remotely, as if through a fog, he heard a familiar voice bellow his name from the doorway, but his eyes were only on Sam, watching desperately, heart aching as he saw her fly away from him, only feeling relief when she landed relatively safely, no longer in the truck’s path.  And then abruptly, he was surrounded by the sound of breaking glass, a roaring engine, and the smell of burning rubber as he was launched into the air, the force with which he hit the ground enough to knock the air from his lungs; and then all he knew was pain.

Chapter Text

Song suggestion:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cruWO0JXU_0 at the words "Thursday, 4:12 p.m., The Boardroom."

Thursday, 4:02 p.m., office of Diana Rosewood

Diana Rosewood tapped her foot impatiently as she listened through the 17 voice messages currently clamouring for her attention.  One of her wayward models had been photographed in a compromising position, and the media were having a field day with it.  She was waiting for Eva Lawson to call her back as well, having cursed out the "insufferable bitch" under her breath when she'd been put straight to voicemail...five times.  She got up, intent on ordering her assistant to connect her with a different lawyer, when she felt the floor and the walls around her shake, a loud noise sounding upward through the floor. 

Somewhat alarmed, she threw her office door open and dashed over to a large window that others in the office had begun to crowd around.  She inhaled sharply when she looked down and saw broken glass and debris strewn across the pavement, the sight of the back end of a large pick-up truck extending outward from the building beneath them.

"Someone drove right into the first floor!" one of the office clerks exclaimed, calling their colleagues over.

"Why would anyone do that?" asked another.

Diana did a quick count and mentally called up the ground floor offices.

"Oh no," she murmured, realizing exactly which office the truck had crashed into.

She pivoted on the ball of her foot and strode swiftly toward the stairs, knowing it would be quicker than the elevator, her 4-inch black stilettos not slowing her down one bit.  Once on the ground floor, she ran to her destination; Young Technologies.  She pushed through the main door, the sound of chaos, shouts, and the smell of gasoline in the air as she took stock of the situation.  She was initially relived on seeing that the truck had come through the boardroom window, given that the room appeared to be empty otherwise.  Her respite from panic was short-lived, however, as she drew closer and caught sight of a familiar shock of blond hair on the floor.  She walked toward the ongoing scene, flagging down a man she recognized as one of the developers.  Instead of demanding what happened, she thought logically and asked, "How can I help?"

"Do you have any first aid training?" asked the dark-haired man.

"I know some basics," she replied, rolling up her sleeves.

"Alright," he nodded, "Can I get you to clear people out of here and then come help us in the boardroom?"

"Absolutely," she answered, turning to direct everyone not currently responding to the situation to evacuate, and to meet up at whatever designated location they normally used during fire drills.

Once that was done, she steeled herself before walking into the boardroom, unable to stop tears from pricking her eyes as a soft, "Oh, Charles," escaped her lips.

"Miss Rosewood!" The developer she'd been talking to previously waved her over to him, a bespectacled redhead on the phone beside him, speaking with 911.

"Call me Diana," she corrected him as she approached.

"Umed," he introduced himself before gesturing to the truck, "The driver is unconscious, can you get in behind him and hold his head still? It's possible he suffered a spinal injury."

Diana considered the request for only a second before nodding curtly, removing her shoes and placing them in the corner.  She shrugged with a "They're Blahnolo Manik's," before climbing into the rear seat of the cab, and held the driver's head the best she could at Umed's direction.  From her position, she had a clear view of Charles lying on the floor, leg laying at an awkward angle.  Blood was trickling from the corner of his mouth, his face contorted in pain, and the mousy little brunette Diana remembered from the elevator was leaning over him.  She was crying, but also looked angry, seemingly reprimanding Charles for something. 

Diana smirked, finding a new sense of admiration for this petite girl, watching their conversation further until Charles squeezed his eyes shut in pain and coughed weakly, bringing up more blood.  She looked away, unable to see him like that; the normally stoic and poised Welshman writhing in pain on the floor.  It didn't matter that he'd snubbed her, or insulted her, she would never have wished this on anyone, least of all him.  She focused on the driver, her fingers currently slick with his blood as it oozed from a scalp wound.  

"Sir?" she spoke, keeping her voice down so as not to interrupt the couple on the floor, "Sir, can you hear me?"

He didn’t respond to her query, not that she expected him to, but she could still hear him breathing somewhat regularly and took that as good enough.  She couldn't see his face, but noted that his hair was greasy and unkempt, and his clothes were dirty, like that of someone who hadn’t washed in days.  She wrinkled her nose and observed her surroundings, looking for possible clues as to why this unassuming man would have driven into the building.  'Heart attack?' she pondered internally, 'Stroke? Diabetic emergency?' .

Then a grubby, creased piece of paper - clearly having been read many times - sitting on the front passenger seat caught her eye.  She shifted slightly, ensuring her hands remained supporting the driver’s head, so that she could read the typed font.  A few words were missing, where the ink had run from likely tear stains or where the paper had been folded and unfolded too many times, but she could read enough of it to begin forging a horrible conclusion in her mind.  It was a document from this man's employer, and one particular line made her blood run cold:

We regret to inform you that your time with NexTek has come to an end.  Following the unsuccessful meeting with Young Technologies, we have had to make some very difficult decisions...

She didn't need to read more.  She knew a termination letter when she saw one, figuring that this man had been fired from a company called NexTek, after Young Technologies had likely turned down their proposal.  She almost let go of the driver's head, thinking the man deserved every bit of grievance he'd brought upon himself...But then the reminder that if he made it through this, he would receive full punishment, in combination with the impartiality she knew she had to uphold as a first responder, had her continuing to hold firm.  One of the tears that had pricked her eyes earlier now managed to circumvent her control, rolling down her cheek.

"Umed?" she called out of the still open door.

"Everything okay?" asked Umed as he walked over.

"I...I think I know why he drove into your office..."

She indicated the letter and proceeded to explain, watching Umed’s expression morph from one of concern to one of anger.

"All the more reason to get his attempted murdering ass well enough for jail," he growled darkly, one word catching Diana's attention immediately.

"M-murder? Is Charles...?"

"He's alive," Umed reassured her quickly, then lowered his voice, "But he doesn't look great."

Diana felt more tears attempting to escape, but blinked them back and managed an, "Okay, thanks for the info."

"Let me know if you need to switch out with anyone," he said softly, gesturing to her hands.

"I will," she responded.

Umed went back to Charles, kneeling beside the brunette - whom she'd heard the others call 'Sam' - as the latter spoke to Charles.  Diana recognized the look of anguish on Sam's face as that of someone devastated, like how one in love might appear if the object of their affections lay injured in front of them.  Diana was no fool.  Even without hearing the conversation, she could still figure out what was going on; a mutual declaration of love...before it was too late. 

She bit her lip, a stream of different emotions coursing through her; denial, anger, envy (of what they had, not who they were), sorrow, then back to anger, resolving to ensure this sad excuse for a human currently held between her hands was prosecuted to the full extent of the law...she had some powerful friends.  Her eyes snapped up when she heard Umed speak, "Sam, the ambulance should be here any minute, keep him talking," the note of panic in his voice not going unnoticed by her.  There was more murmured conversation, and then Umed stood, walking toward Diana, but both of their gazes were drawn immediately to the couple on the floor when Sam screamed, "Charles!"

Diana bit back a sob as she watched Umed return hurriedly to Charles, checking him over.  The sound of sirens started blaring loudly through the broken window, the boardroom alit with flashes of red and blue.  Only just over the din, could she hear Umed say "Not breathing," and his words instigated a release within her, freeing the previously imprisoned sob as her forehead came to press against the back of the headrest in front of her.  Then, for a split second, it was like all of the sound in the room was sucked out, and all she could hear was the imploring voice of Sam as she asked something of Charles, of the universe, of whoever was listening, in the form of one word:  "Please!"

----

Thursday, 4:02 p.m., Umed Patel's desk  

Umed felt like he'd been staring at his computer screen for hours, having accomplished very little work as his mind was firmly focussed on his two good friends.  He'd been both hurt and astonished to learn that Charles was making the hasty decision to leave them...leave Sam.  Even hours later, Umed was still angry with him, though a bit less surprised.  When Charles had bolted from the office earlier, Umed had honestly been afraid the Welshman wouldn't come back, but then felt a sense of both relief and disappointment when Charles returned, but didn't go to Sam.  Instead, he'd locked himself away, not letting anybody in - not that anyone other than Umed and Lucy tried talking to him. 

Just as Umed was about to give up on work and secretly start watching some Underwatch play-throughs, he felt a light tap on his shoulder; just the brush of a small hand.  He looked up to see Sam's form retreating toward the kitchen, mildly comforted by the physical contact, though still incredibly worried about his friend.  He went back to looking at his screen as he tapped his chin, resolving to wait a few minutes before following Sam with the intent of checking on her.  When he felt enough time had passed - 4 minutes, who was he kidding - he got up and made for the kitchen, brows furrowing as he heard voices emanating from within.  One was Sam's, though she spoke with a tone that Umed didn't think he'd ever heard her use, one that chilled him right through.  The other was unmistakably that of Charles’, devoid of emotion as if he were pitching to a prospective client.  

Umed jumped as Lucy suddenly spoke from behind him, "What's going on-"

"Shhh," he hushed, turning to see her standing right at his shoulder.

"And there you go again," Sam's scoff was the only warning they had that she was exiting the kitchen.

Both Umed and Lucy swiftly ducked behind a nearby cubicle wall and peered around it.  They heard Charles' quip about Sam being loud and accusatory, both exchanging unimpressed glances, then watched the couple enter the boardroom, the closing of the glass door blocking out most of their subsequent argument.  Umed jumped again - as did Lucy - when a familiar voice asked gruffly, "What are you two up to?" both whirling around to see their employer standing a few feet away.

"M-Mr. Young!" stammered Lucy, having not noticed the time.

"Ummm," Umed struggled to come up with a response.

"No matter," Samuel waved his hand dismissively before looking at Lucy, "Where is Jones?"

"In there," she squeaked, pointing toward the boardroom.

Samuel looked up, brow furrowing on seeing Charles and his daughter through the glass of the boardroom wall, looking as though they were having a row.  His eyes narrowed and he clenched his fists so hard that the handle of his briefcase snapped, the case dropping to the floor with a 'thunk'.  Lucy and Umed eyed him nervously, almost able to feel the heat of his anger even as he worked to swallow it back.

"So he told her," Samuel exhaled.

"Ummm," Lucy trailed off, having no intention of finishing her sentence as Samuel stalked toward the boardroom.

Both she and Umed wondered if they were about to stand witness to the Demise of Charles Jones as Samuel flung open the door.  But then their attention was pulled away from the domestic hubbub to the window, just in time to see a truck hurtling toward their friends.

"Oh no!" cried Lucy, Umed holding her back as she tried to run to their aid.

"Jones! Look out!" they heard Samuel yell from the doorway.

Then all watched in horror as the truck burst in, shattered bits of glass forming a halo around the sight of Charles pushing Sam out of the way just in the nick of time, right before he was hit in her place.  

"No!" uttered Umed, taking a step forward as he watched his friend get knocked off his feet, landing about a meter away from where the truck came to a screeching halt.

The office was quiet, so deadly silent for just a few seconds as everyone froze, their fight-or-flight mechanisms kicking in.  Then a loud bang sounded from the truck's exhaust and chaos erupted, screams, scurrying, and papers flying everywhere.

"OI!" Umed suddenly yelled at the top of his lungs.

Hearing such a loud sound come from the normally soft-spoken man had all present suddenly stop moving, hushed as they looked toward him.

"I get that a truck just drove through the wall, but all of you running around like noobs on a dungeon run isn't helpful in any way, so listen up," Umed's tone was a commanding one, and it held their attention, "Lucy," he turned toward the redhead, "I need you to go into the boardroom and call 911, I'll be in there shortly."

Lucy nodded, already dialing Emergency Services as she walked briskly toward the scene.

"Jacob!" Umed called out, seeing the normally laidback intern come forward immediately with an expression of determination on his face, "I need you to find the office first aid kit and grab the AED from the lobby, and bring them to the boardroom."

Jacob saluted lightly then hurried off to do as asked.

"The rest of you, grab your essentials and evacuate, we need to clear the way for EMS," Umed finished in a tone that brooked no argument.

He was just about to go and check on Charles, when he heard a familiar voice call out to him, turning to see Diana Rosewood approaching him as she asked, "How can I help?"

Umed gave her a quick calculating look - 'calm, poised, no-nonsense' - and on finding out she had some first aid knowledge, he asked her to clear out the employees and then help him in the boardroom, figuring he was likely going to need it.  He hurried through the miraculously intact glass door, over to where a stunned Samuel was kneeling on the floor beside Sam, who had Samuel's jacket between her and the broken glass.

"I...I think he's breathing okay," Sam's voice shook.

Umed kneeled on Charles' other side and checked him over, his extensive first aid training kicking in.  After establishing that the Welshman was breathing and had a pulse - albeit, still remained unconscious - he quickly checked the rest of him over.  As his hands lightly pushed on Charles' abdomen, the blond flinched so Umed untucked and pulled up his vest and shirt, not at all liking the way his abdomen was distending outward.  His other concerning finding was Charles' leg, a rapid assessment showing that he'd likely broken his femur.  Umed quickly directed Samuel - who had been quietly watching his employee, waiting for instruction - to hold onto Charles' leg in a manner that both steadied it and applied traction, explaining, "It's the best way to stabilize this type of injury," before turning to pass his information on to Lucy for 911.

"S-so...how is he?" asked Sam, her lower lip trembling as she grasped the Welshman's pale fingers; the sight of it nearly broke Umed's heart.

"I won't sugar coat it," Umed said softly, "It looks like he's got some internal bleeding and a serious leg fracture.  We need the ambulance here ASAP."

Sam nodded, seeming as though she were trying to fight the tears that wanted to course down her cheeks.  They all looked up as Jacob walked in with the first aid kit and AED, asking if there was anything else he could do.

"Can you wait outside and direct the ambulance?" asked Umed, "I know it's pretty obvious where the accident is, but the sooner we get them here, the better."

"Can do," nodded Jacob, quickly carrying out Umed’s request.

Just then, Umed felt a slight ray of hope as Charles groaned softly, his eyes fluttering open.

"Charles?" Sam's question echoed off the remaining walls around them, all hanging in the pause.

The Weshman’s eyes finally opened, drawn immediately to the brunette beside him, "What..." he began, then it seemed as though he suddenly recalled what had happened, his voice frantic as he asked, "Samara! Are you alright? Are you hurt?"

"I-I'm okay," she replied, bringing his hand to her lips.

"Charles," Umed interjected, "I need you to keep your head still okay? You were hit by a truck, and we can't be certain how bad your injuries are."

"Umed," Charles breathed, an almost smile playing about his mouth, "I'm happy to see you."

The raven-haired man frowned slightly, wondering if perhaps shock was kicking in for his friend, though those fears were dispelled as he heard, "I'm in rough shape, aren't I?"

The clarity in Charles' eyes struck him, and all he could do was nod in response before turning to Sam, "I'm going to check on the driver, make sure Towhead here doesn't move his head too much."  

"I will," she answered, turning back to Charles as she said, "You must be in so much pain."

Umed stood and went to check on the driver, finding him unconscious but breathing, nothing else seemingly wrong with him.  His head turned as he suddenly heard Sam shout at Charles, trying not to smirk despite the severity of the situation, "Well I'm glad you're fine because you are in big trouble, Mister."

He started to walk over when he saw Miss Rosewood standing just inside the doorway, a shocked look on her face.

"Miss Rosewood!" he called, hoping to distract her from what was going on.

"Call me Diana," she replied as she walked toward him, still as beautiful as ever.

"Umed," he introduced himself before delegating the task of looking after the driver to her.

He was grateful for how quick she was to follow instruction, though raised an eyebrow at her as she took her shoes off, thinking perhaps doing so on a floor strewn with debris wasn't the smartest idea.  Her response of, "They're Blahnolo Manik's," explained it, however - Umed had heard Lucy gush about them repeatedly when she'd been obsessively watching a show called ‘Sex and the Suburbs’.

Umed stood by the driver, waiting as Diana climbed into the back seat and settled, looking toward him.  He guided her on how to hold the man's head in a way that would keep him still without risking further injury, and that wouldn't be too trying on her arms.  Satisfied, Umed went back to Charles and checked on his injuries again, vaguely hearing Sam say something in Welsh.  He did not like the look of the bruising on Charles' abdomen, his feeling of dread further solidified by the blood tracking downward from the corner of the blond's mouth.  He was distracted from the sight by a soft calling of his name, realizing it was coming from the truck.  He got up and went to Diana, asking "Everything okay?" as he took in the fresh tear on her face, preparing for bad news.

He wasn't wrong.  He felt a rage well up within him as Diana told him of what she'd found, his fists clenched hard enough that his fingernails bit into his palms.  He wanted so badly to stop helping the driver, leave him to his fate.  But he knew that it would be more of a hindrance than help, so he gritted his teeth hard and spoke with a rough edge to his voice, "All the more reason to get his attempted murdering ass well enough for jail,"

He realized he'd alarmed Diana and kicked himself internally at his word choice, quickly reassuring her and making sure she was alright before moving back to his main patient, checking in with Lucy on the way.  Despite the grimness of their predicament, Umed couldn't help but smile knowing Charles and Sam had finally declared their love for one aother, noting that even Samuel held a soft expression on his face, having been silent for most of the ordeal.  His joy was short-lived, however, as he saw Charles begin to really struggle with keeping his eyes open.  Umed looked up to Lucy and saw her hold out two fingers, indicating that the paramedics were about 2 minutes out.

"Sam, the ambulance should be here any minute, keep him talking," Umed attempted to sound encouraging, but he knew his friend's condition was declining rapidly.

He didn't want to pry into the obviously intimate moment between his two friends, so went to check on Diana again, halting in his movement as he heard Sam outright yell at Charles, using his full name.  He glanced back and laughed lightly to see Sam lay into him, then tell him she loved him, then a kiss backlit by the flashing of red and blue.  He continued toward Diana as sirens rose around them, but immediately spun on his heel when he heard a panicked, "Charles!" behind him.  Umed dashed back and almost lost it as he saw his friend finally lose to the darkness.  He checked the Welshman over, uttering, “He’s not breathing,” as shock and heavy sadness held him in place and the room suddenly went silent, save for Sam's heartbreaking plea...

"Please!"

----

Thursday, 4:02 p.m., Samuel Young's car

Samuel checked his watch as his assigned ride sped toward the office, impatiently tapping his foot.  He was incredibly grateful to Lucy for not only having a driver already waiting for him, but for making sure it was the one who didn't have a problem with going fast.

"Almost there, sir," he heard from the front.

"Thank you, Maria, I appreciate the efficiency," he replied, grabbing his briefcase and preparing to launch out of the vehicle as soon as they'd pulled up.

Seconds after Maria shifted to park, Samuel tossed a hefty tip onto the front passenger seat and jumped out, calling another, “Thank you,” to her as he all but ran toward the building's entrance.  He rushed in and looked around, not seeing Lucy, nor Charles, anywhere in sight.  He peeked into Charles' office and noted it was empty, as was Sam's across the hall.  He continued onward and caught a flash of red hair, making a beeline for it.  He walked up behind where he saw Lucy and Umed crouching as though they were hiding, eyebrow raised as he asked, "What are you two up to?"

He grinned inwardly at the looks on their faces as they both attempted to stammer out responses, neither being particularly successful.  Then he remembered why he was there and got straight to the point, asking after Jones.  He followed the direction of Lucy's finger and saw his target in the boardroom, shouting at his precious daughter.  'I'll kill him,' he roared inwardly while clenching his fists, not even noticing his briefcase fall to the floor as he counted slowly to 5 while picturing his beloved’s face.  But then seeing Sam yelling right back at the Welshman brought him down slightly, realization striking him as he murmured, "So he told her," before marching straight for the boardroom. 

He flung open the door, intent on silencing them both with a loud reprimand, but his words died in his throat as he saw a huge truck barrelling straight toward where Sam stood.  His heart dropped and his feet froze in place, everything happening in slow motion.  It would be quite a while before his pride would allow him to tell Charles just how grateful he was to him in that moment.  The seconds in which he saw the Welshman act so quickly, jumping across the table to push Sam out of the way; her safety seeming to be his one and only concern.  The clear intention behind the blond's actions, the intensity of his focus on rescuing Sam, shattered Samuel's preconceived notions regarding Charles, practically absolving him in the Young patriarch's eyes (almost).  Slowly coming back to himself, Samuel saw that the Welshman was right in the truck's line of fire, and managed to shout, "Jones! Look out!" 

He knew he'd never be able to forget the look of utter relief and love he saw on Charles' face directed at Sam, right before the truck hit him, sending him sprawling through the air and onto the floor.  Broken glass scattering, the smell of smoke, Sam's light wheezing, and the puttering of the truck's still running engine surrounded him...until the exhaust pipe let out a loud 'bang' and a cacophony of sound poured in from outside the room.  Samuel snapped to and strode over to the truck, hearing Sam get up as he opened the door and shifted it into park before turning off the engine.  He left the unconscious driver where he was and pivoted to follow Sam toward Charles, his heart breaking as he heard her breath hitch on seeing the Welshman.  He saw she was about to kneel on the floor, worried about the glass and chunks of debris, so he called out, "Samara."

He noticed her freeze for a second, her shoulders rising toward her ears, but only for a moment before continuing.

"Hang on, just-" he tried to stop her again, but was astounded by the tone she addressed him with, turning to yell over her shoulder.

"No, Dad.  Charles' life is at stake here, and I will not-"

"Samara," he said again, more softly this time, knowing it might be the only way to grab her attention.  

It must have worked as her expression relaxed and she finally turned to look at him, eyebrows knitting together as he pulled off his suit jacket and handed it to her, "Kneel on this, for the broken glass."

"Oh," she said quietly, staring at the jacket in her hands before meeting his eyes, her own shining with unshed tears, "Thanks, Dad."

He nodded and watched her place the jacket on the floor before kneeling on it and checking the blond over.  She brought her ear near his mouth, desperately watching his chest for any movement, Samuel at a loss as to what to do.  Lucy walked in then, clearly on the phone with 911 as she described what had happened, and Samuel couldn't help but admire her ability to pull through and do what had to be done, despite her likely being scared both for herself and her friends.  Then Umed followed and Samuel swelled with pride to see his employee having immediately taken charge of the scene, his training evident in how he directed others and assessed Charles’ injuries; the Young patriarch made a mental note to give the raven-haired man a big raise.  Samuel had been avoiding looking at Charles' leg - having initially noted the odd angle at which it sat, and how it seemed shorter than his other leg - but had no choice when Umed turned to him, asking for help.

"What do you need?" Samuel replied, attempting to maintain his stoicism, even on seeing Charles the way he was.

"I need you to grip the back of his ankle with one hand," Umed pointed, "And his foot with your other hand."

Samuel did as instructed, then looked back to Umed as he continued, "Now pull his leg gently toward you."

Samuel pulled lightly, able to both feel and hear the sound of moving bones; something that he had never hoped to endure in his entire lifetime, the experience setting his teeth on edge.

"Ok that's good," he heard Umed comment, "Can you hold that for a while? It's the best way to stabilize this type of injury."

"I can," nodded Samuel, back to averting his eyes from Charles' leg.

Umed patted him on the shoulder then turned to speak to Lucy, Samuel's eyes drawn to his daughter.

"Pumpkin," his voice was gentle, "Are you alright?"

"I...I don't know," her voice shook, tears beginning to trickle over her cheeks.

Samuel wanted nothing more than to pull her to him, and hide her from all of this, from the pain she was going through – the worst likely still yet to come.  He saw her look over to Umed when he put a hand to Charles' forehead, breath catching as she asked, "S-so...how is he?"

Samuel listened while Umed explained Charles' condition, his focus split between his daughter's face as she took the news, and maintaining his hold on the Welshman's leg.  He vaguely made another mental note to promote Jacob from intern to fully-paid employee on seeing him bring the first aid kit and AED to Umed, taking directions from the developer calmly and easily.

"Samara," Samuel injected as much love as he could into his voice, seeing the anguish in her wavering gaze as it met his, "We're going to do whatever we need to for him, okay? I'll see to it he has the best possible doctors, and a private room, all his healthcare expenses paid.  We will get through this, do you hear me?"

She nodded gratefully, a few more tears dripping from her chin and onto where her hands were joined with Charles'.  Suddenly, all present immediately looked to the blond's face as he groaned, expressions a mixture of relief, anxiety, and fear.

"Charles?" Sam ventured, leaning over him.

Samuel felt a tiny bit lighter on seeing the Welshman's eyes open, his heart warming when the first thing out of his mouth was to ask if Samara was alright.  He hadn't entirely believed it when Samantha had said that Sam loved Charles, but he most certainly couldn't deny it now, seeing it in person.  He could essentially feel their bond smacking him full in the face as he watched them, though was pulled from his musings when Charles looked at him and said, "M-Mr. Young, you're back early."

Samuel steeled himself against what he saw in Charles' expression; a man trying to keep his pain from showing...a man who knew he wasn't walking away from this, "My favourite employee was leaving, what choice did I have?"

"You're holding my leg," the Welshman's voice had a spacey quality to it, and Samuel didn't like it one bit.

"I don't think you want me to let go, Charles," he replied quietly, the use of the blond's first name highlighting the gravity of the situation.

"Thank you," Charles nodded simply in return.

"Is there anything more we can do to help ease the pain?" Sam asked, and Samuel exhaled as those piercing blue eyes shifted from him and back to his daughter.

He couldn't help but chuckle to himself as he heard her begin to tear into his 'favourite employee', vowing to bring it up at a later date to poke fun at Charles...should there be a later.  He let them have a bit of privacy for their conversation as his attention wandered over to the entrance of another familiar redhead.  He gave Rosewood a small nod as they briefly made eye contact, receiving a similar one from her in turn before she followed Umed to the truck.  Then suddenly he was brought back to the pair in front of him, completely blown away by something that Charles said. 

He tried not to listen, but couldn't help it; his heart both swelled and ached for his daughter, and for Charles, solemnly swearing in that moment to do everything in his power to make sure they all lived through this.  Samuel saw Umed come back and lift Charles' shirt again, his stomach sinking to his feet on seeing an angry bruising spreading across the latter man’s abdomen.  He exchanged a grim look with the dark-haired developer, who blessedly said nothing to Sam before he was called back to the truck.  Samuel looked away, though continued listening to the confession unfolding before him, sincerely hoping it wouldn't turn into a goodbye. 

He surveyed the damage of the boardroom, the broken wall of the building, Rosewood holding the truck driver’s head steady.  His gaze lingered on Umed's angry expression as he seemed to be discussing something disturbing with Rosewood - though he was unable to hear their conversation from his position.  Samuel glanced back behind him, noting that all of the other employees had been cleared out, and that the destruction seemed limited to this one room.  His focus was instantly drawn back to Sam and Charles when Umed spoke from close by, "Sam, the ambulance should be here any minute, keep him talking."

Samuel could see that Charles was fighting hard to stay awake, his skin growing paler by the minute - even more so than usual - though huffed lightly as his daughter again berated the Welshman.  But all traces of amusement vanished once the sirens drew near, the room swathed in flashes of red and blue, and Samuel could hear the farewell in Charles' tone.  Curiously, there was no trace of the murderous urge he thought he would feel on seeing his daughter kiss the man he once described as a 'villain'; instead his heart broke, both for Sam and for the man that she loved.  He couldn't stop the tear that seemed determined to track its way down his face and to the floor as he heard Sam cry out, "Please!"

----

Thursday, 4:12 p.m., The Boardroom

Sam's mind was all over the place.  One second she'd been shouting angrily at Charles, the next he'd jumped over the table to push her.  She knew he was absolutely not the kind of person to escalate to violence, so was utterly confused for a moment...but only a moment.  As she flew toward the ground, she spun slightly and was able to see both the expression on Charles' face and the truck about to come through the window.  When she landed on her bottom and slid backwards, she heard a recognizable voice yell from off to the side, but couldn't tear her eyes away from Charles. 

The air was stolen from her lungs even as she tried to scream out to the blond, helplessly watching the truck break through the window and collide with him.  Then she felt like she blinked and he was on the ground some distance away, unconscious.  Sam stared wide-eyed at Charles' immobile form, her breathing starting to morph from rapid to wheezy.  She squeezed her eyes shut and urged herself to breathe deeply, knowing her inhaler was nowhere nearby.  Against all odds, she managed to get a handle on it and opened her eyes once more, steeling herself before getting up. 

She noted some pain in her buttocks and her wrist, not paying it any mind as she hurried over to Charles.  As Sam ran, she caught a glimpse of her father leaning into the truck, 'He's back early,' she absently thought to herself, realizing it was his voice she'd heard shouting.  She was about to drop to her knees beside Charles, her focus solely on him, but froze and felt her hackles raise as her dad's firm voice called out, "Samara!"

She tried to ignore him, but when he started to speak again, she couldn't stop her anger from bubbling up inside; her indignation that he'd even think she would stay away from Charles, "Hang on, just-"

She cut him off, loudly, voice enraged as she threw it over her shoulder, "No, Dad.  Charles' life is at stake here, and I will not-" but she halted once again when Samuel repeated her name, speaking so softly that it drew her attention.  She looked back at him fully, and was astounded to see him taking off his suit jacket, an expression of concern on his face.  Her brow furrowed in confusion when he held the article of clothing out to her, but her ire from only moments ago faded instantly when he explained, "Kneel on this, for the broken glass."

She uttered a soft "Oh," as she took the jacket, wanting just for a second to launch herself into his arms, where everything would magically be alright like when she was a kid.  She only barely managed to keep her tears at bay as she croaked, "Thanks, Dad."  

She folded the garment quickly and placed it on the floor beside Charles, kneeling on it as she leaned over to check his breathing.  She held her own breath, feeling she couldn't exhale anyways until...'there, he's breathing.'  She thought her relief might be palpable, and began to check Charles over for any obvious injuries, though she didn't exactly have the training to spot such things.  Luckily, Umed walked in then, taking up a spot on the other side of Charles as Sam swallowed hard, trying to stop her voice from shaking as she said, "I...I think he's breathing okay."

She watched her friend examine the Welshman, her heart in her throat as she noticed the frown on his face.  She inhaled sharply on seeing Charles flinch when Umed touched his abdomen, but settled back into her cold fear when the blond didn't move any further.  She remained silent until Umed finished directing Samuel, watching Charles' face for any more reactions or movement or...anything.  She heard her dad asking her if she was alright, but in that moment she truly couldn't tell what she was feeling, she was so numb, chilled.  So she gave him the only answer she could think of, "I...I don't know."  Then Umed was crouching across from her again and she looked up at him, not at all liking his expression as she asked, "S-so...how is he?" 

She was simultaneously wanting and not wanting to hear it, but felt perhaps that knowing would be the lesser of two evils, gripping Charles' fingers with her own in a vain effort to comfort both of them.

"I won't sugar coat it," Umed started, and Sam felt immensely thankful that he was giving her the information straight up, albeit edged with dread, "It looks like he's got some internal bleeding and a serious leg fracture.  We need the ambulance here ASAP."  

She nodded in understanding, feeling her tears finally broaching the dam of her eyelids, finally giving in to the cascade.  She saw Umed talk to Jacob as he came in, but just about everything around her became muffled and unfocused, her panic trying to tighten its grasp on her.  

"Samara."

The absolute love she could hear in her dad's voice grounded her, lighting him up like a beacon in the darkness threatening to close in on her.  His next words started fuzzy, but as the fog cleared, she heard, "...all his healthcare expenses paid.  We will get through this, do you hear me?" 

Sam felt gratitude blossom within her and she nodded, the small sliver of comfort brought on by her dad's words enough to stave off the panic attack that had been hanging over her.  She felt more tears slide down her cheeks, but forgot about them entirely as Charles let out a soft groan.

"Charles?" she asked eagerly, cupping his face gently as his eyelashes began to flutter weakly.

He was finally able to pry his eyelids open, flinching at the flickering lights as he worked to bring the room into focus.  Everything seemed a bit off, like it was not quite right, his efforts to ascertain his surroundings largely impeded by an increasing sensation of all-encompassing pain.  The first thing he truly saw was Sam, and instantly his memories of what had occurred came crashing back and he asked if she was hurt.

"I-I'm okay," she replied, feeling a ray of hope as she brought his hand to her lips, needing to feel his skin on hers.

She barely heard Umed asking Charles a few questions, too overwhelmed with relief that he was actually awake and talking; until she heard the blond say, "I'm in rough shape, aren't I?"

She'd been able to deny it for a few peaceful moments, but reality crashed back down over her as she saw in Charles' eyes how serious their circumstances truly were.  She looked at Umed when he addressed her, "I'm going to check on the driver, make sure Towhead here doesn't move his head too much."  

She responded in the affirmative before meeting Charles' gaze again, keeping her own angst in check as she said, "You must be in so much pain."

"Just a bit," he clenched his eyes shut briefly, trying to will that very pain away.

He had felt agony before, but nothing even remotely like he was experiencing now; though he had a fleeting thought that even this might pale in comparison to how he would have felt had he actually gone through with leaving Sam.

"You don't have to play superhero for me," she scolded him softly as she stroked his cheek, thumb wiping away the trickle of blood that had escaped the corner of his mouth.

"I thought I was the villain of the story?" he tried to smirk.

"More like the dashing antihero," she teased, then saw Charles' gaze shift to her father as he commented on the presence of the older man.

She held in a snort at her dad's reply of, "My favourite employee was leaving, what choice did I have?"

However, Charles' reply had her feeling uneasy, his tone seemingly something beyond mere disorientation.  That discord was honed into a painful focal point when her father called Charles by his first name, something he hadn't done in a very long time.  She tried to cling to a modicum of reassurance by concentrating on helping Charles.

"Is there anything more we can do to help ease the pain?" she asked, drawing the blond's attention back from Samuel.

"Not really, Bunty, I...I'm fine," he lied, again internalizing the swiftly mounting pain he could feel throughout his body, particularly in his leg; though he was momentarily distracted from it by Sam's response.

"Well I'm glad you're fine because you are in big trouble, Mister," she exclaimed, seeming to remember all that had transpired now that Charles seemed to be improving.

"I supposed I deserved that," he rasped, swallowing with some difficulty, the metallic taste of more blood on the back of his tongue.

"Charles, why the hell would you do something so stupid?" she demanded, tears once again coursing down her cheeks.

"Does it really need to be said?" he replied weakly before coughing, trying to ignore the small smattering of blood that had come from his mouth.

"Considering you put yourself between me and an oncoming vehicle, yes it does, you idiot," her frustration helped keep her from outright sobbing.

Charles took a few minutes to get a bit of a handle on his breathing, fighting back the darkness even as it attempted to black out his vision, before beginning to speak.

"Samara," for a second, Sam thought he was going to beat around the bush about it, disguise it amongst words of near meanings, or wrap it in metaphors, but he surprised her yet again when he continued with, "I love you.  Against my better judgment, even though I foolishly tried to make a clean cut and let you be, let you prosper...I can't see my life being a complete one without you in it."

Now Sam was crying for a different reason, and she brought his hand to her lips, his fingers like ice, "I love you too, twpsyn," she'd borrowed a word from his vernacular and got a smile from him for it.

"I know," he tried to smirk, but it morphed into a wince, "I did hear you last night."

"I knew it!" she exclaimed in a mixture of triumph and anger, voice quieting as she continued, "And then you tried to leave."

"Yes," he cleared his throat, having some trouble keeping his eyes open.

Sam gently stroked the side of his face, watching him battling with the onset of unconsciousness, her heart clenching.

"Sam, the ambulance should be here any minute, keep him talking," Umed's voice sounded above her; they all heard sirens in the distance.

"So you did take the job because I said 'I love you'?" even though she'd already suspected it, she was still astounded, and more than a bit pissed off, regardless of the fact that he was losing blood in front of her.

Charles was only able to nod in response, eyes shining even as his face began to look gray in colour.

"Charles Rhys Jones," she was almost shouting, "You absolute bonehead.  All you had to do was talk to me about it, but noooo you had to go and be all stupid and noble and stubborn and…and...well, when you recover from this, I'm really going to give you a piece of my mind."

He let out a weak chuckle, flinching at the movement, "I wouldn't expect anything less, fy annwyl."

Charles wanted terribly to express so much more to her, but his words were failing him just as much as his vision was.

"Just, please," her voice softened as she placed a hand on his forehead, "You need to hang on so I can tell you off later."

"I'll try, for you."

"I love you," she whispered, bringing her mouth to his in a fiercely passionate kiss, pouring everything she could into it.  

He returned the embrace at first, then she felt his mouth slacken beneath hers.  She pulled back and took in his closed eyes and cold skin, the deafening sound of sirens and blinding of flashing lights taking over.

"Charles!" she screamed, hands cupping his face, heart sinking on seeing him so incredibly still.

Umed ran back over, dropping to his knees and listening for Charles’ breaths, his words practically ripping Sam’s heart from her chest, “He’s not breathing.”

The immediate silence, born of the blood pounding in her ears, weighed in on her and stole away her oxygen, her voice ragged as she begged, "Please!"

Chapter Text

Music suggestion:  (for the entire chapter, good ol' loop) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=13ZrHHHEqwM

Everything around Sam was unfocused, all sounds muffled as she watched the paramedics arrive and question Lucy and Umed about the preceding events.  She didn't even try to fight Samuel's firm grip when he pulled her back from Charles so as to make room for the medics to work.  An odd sense of déjà vu settled over her when the Welshman's hand slipped from her grasp, wondering if he was as scared as Marshall had been.  She felt numb, like the floor had dropped out from beneath her and all that was left was a chill that crept into her heart, digging its claws deep. 

Sam was at an unsettling crossroads where she both didn’t want to look, but also couldn’t tear her eyes away.  Even from a distance, she still had a clear view of one of the paramedics - whose nametag read ‘Oreeda’ - using some kind of ventilation device to help Charles breathe.  They'd also put a brace around his neck and Sam’s mind went straight for the worst case scenario, terrified it could mean he was paralyzed.  She strained to listen above her blood rushing through her ears, catching the words, "Resps are zero and BP is dropping, we gotta load and go."

The other paramedic, whom Oreeda had called ‘Juan’, stood and wheeled the stretcher closer, lowering it to the ground.  As they lifted Charles onto it, Sam diverted her eyes from the blond's lifeless form and caught a glint of something on the floor.  She crouched down and lifted a twisted chunk of plastic to see a familiar and unwelcome object; a chain holding a wedding band, cursedly untouched. 

She clenched it in her fist, a flood of emotions barrelling through her, particularly anger at how it was unharmed where Charles was not.  She tucked it into her shirt pocket with the intent of giving it to its owner later, 'If there is a later' interjected her traitorously dark thoughts.  Sam blinked back another flood of tears, gaze returning to see Charles being secured to the stretcher, a loudly beeping monitor attached to him.

"We're taking him to the Oliver Medical Centre," said Oreeda gently.

"C-can I come w-with you?" Sam stammered, feeling so incredibly small.

"Yes, of course," nodded Oreeda, "You can sit in the back with us."

"Samara," Samuel's voice rang through her thoughts and she turned to face him, "We'll follow in the car and see you at the hospital."

"O-okay," she smiled timidly before hurriedly following the paramedics outside.

Sam stood to the side while Juan and Oreeda loaded Charles into the ambulance, Oreeda hopping in with him while Juan got into the driver's seat.  Sam climbed up into the back of the rig, following Oreeda’s direction.  She sat in a built-in seat across from Charles’ stretcher, near enough that she was able to hold his hand without being in the way.  Then came the closing and locking of the doors, a double tap to the wall behind the front seats, and they were off, siren blaring.  She silently watched as Oreeda performed multiple tasks at once, likely attempting to stabilize Charles.  After a few minutes, Sam felt some of the tension seep out of her shoulders when Oreeda said, "He should be relatively stable for the rest of the ride."  Sam almost fell out of her seat at the paramedic's next words, "How long have you two been married?"

"I....uh...w-well...we're not…" Sam managed to get out, realizing at some point she’d pulled the ring from her pocket, and was currently holding it in a death grip.

"Apologies," smiled Oreeda, "I saw the ring and assumed."

"It's...a part of his past," Sam replied quietly, looking down at it.

"Widowed?" asked Oreeda.

It was not done in a prying way, but still Sam hesitated to respond.

"You don't have to answer,” Oreeda assured her, having read the silence, “I just find that small talk helps keep patients' loved ones calm."

Sam considered this and then said, "H-he's divorced...She was not kind to him, but I love him more than words can say."

"I can see that," nodded Oreeda, checking Charles' pulse, "He's lucky to have you."

"He jumped in front of a truck for me," Sam choked out, instantly bursting into tears.

"Woah, hey, Samara was it?" Oreeda gave her a comforting pat on the knee.

"S-Sam," sniffed the brunette.

"Sam," Oreeda continued, her tone exuding warmth, "If that's the case, then I'd say you two have found something most people in this world spend their entire lives searching for."

"Strawberries and witty banter?" Sam tried to joke, but it was undercut by her pitiful hiccup halfway through.

"Something genuine, something real, something deep," Oreeda made eye contact with Sam briefly before reassessing Charles' vital signs.

"You s-sound like you speak f-from experience," Sam gave her a watery smile.

"My wife and I have been together for 6 years now," commented Oreeda as she adjusted Charles' oxygen, "And while my path to meeting her wasn't exactly roses, I wouldn't give up any of it, because it brought me to her."

"I...I like that," nodded Sam, thinking over both her and Charles' past tribulations, some worse than others, that had led them to each other.

A great many small and large events had to have happened for Charles to end up working for her father, and for her to not only survive to adulthood, but to take on a job at her father's office.  The rest had been up to them and while she could certainly remember some choice not-so-great moments, they had all contributed to the realization that she loved this pale unconscious Welshman.  This thought alone made her heart swell, and it was exacerbated by the knowledge that he returned the sentiment.

"We're about five minutes out 'Reeda, prep for transfer," Juan's voice came through the radio.

"Ten-four," replied Oreeda, speaking to Sam as she started to ready Charles for unloading, "We'll be arriving in about five minutes.  You'll be able to follow him all the way to the pre-surgical area, and then it'll be the waiting game."

"Will...will he be okay?" asked Sam, not entirely wanting to hear the answer.

"I can't guarantee that," Oreeda replied softly, giving Sam's arm a light squeeze, "But I can say that I've seen patients in far worse condition than him, and the doctors at Oliver Med are fantastic.  They'll do everything in their power to get him through this."

"Thank you," nodded Sam, gently patting Oreeda's hand before the medic released her.

The next ten minutes happened quickly.  They came to a stop and Charles was moved out, Sam following close behind.  She watched Oreeda brief the doctors as they walked briskly into the hospital, the medic stopping at the edge of the emergency room.

"This is where I leave you," she said quickly, "I wish you all the luck, Sam, to you and your love," she nodded toward Charles.

"Thank you for everything!" Sam called back as they continued hurrying away.

One final wave and Oreeda was out of sight, Sam back to watching Charles' face as they made for a set of doors marked 'Authorized Access Only'.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," said the tall red-headed man in scrubs who had been pushing the stretcher, "You can't go beyond this point."

"He's going into surgery?" she asked, having recognized this area of the hospital.

"He'll need urgent scans, but based on the medic's report, it sounds like there's some extensive damage that can only be fixed surgically.  You may take a moment to say goodbye."

Sam jumped on hearing the word 'goodbye', fresh tears gathering at the corners of her eyes.  She reached down and brushed Charles' now wild hair back from his face, pressing a kiss to his forehead and then his lips.

"I love you, Charles Jones, and it’s your fault.  You went and made me fall for you, so you’d better make it through this," she murmured.

She straightened up, managing to keep her voice firm as she said, "I'll be in the waiting room, I expect updates."

"As soon as we can give them to you, you'll have them," he nodded.

She watched then, feeling forlorn as Charles passed through the double doors and out of sight, a deep sense of loss weighing down on her.  She leaned against the wall and allowed herself a few seconds to just sob, to let the grief out a bit so that she could try and put on a brave face.  When she felt a tiny measure of release, she made her way to the waiting area and flopped into a large chair, curling her legs beneath her.  She'd only been sitting there a few minutes when her father came bursting in, eyes wildly swinging around, his presence having drawn the attention of just about everyone.

"Dad!" she called out, her voice sounding weak to her own ears, "Over here."

"Samara," he breathed, features instantly relaxing as he walked to her, Umed and Lucy not far behind, "How is he?"

"Umm, I'm not entirely sure, but n-not...not good," she replied, tears welling afresh.

Samuel sat beside her, gathering her into his arms just like he'd done when she was a child.

"I've got you, Pumpkin, and Jones.  I spoke to Admissions on the way in, he'll receive top level treatment and a private room, sparing no expense."

Sam laughed softly, finding that it did make her feel marginally better.

"Here, Sam," she glanced up on hearing Lucy's voice, seeing the familiar redhead holding out her bag.

"Oh," she pulled slightly out of her father's embrace, "Thanks Lucy, I didn't even think about it."

"Your phone is inside," continued her friend.

"Thank you," Sam smiled gratefully as Lucy sat on her other side.

"You doing okay?" asked Umed, taking a chair across from them.

"As okay as I can be," she shrugged, taking a steadying breath, "He didn't wake up the entire ride here and when they were taking him in, one of the doctors said he would p-probably need...surgery," her voice hitched on the final word, the severity of the circumstances rearing its head once again.

"Hey," Umed reached over to squeeze her hand, "We've given him the best chance he could get."

"You did, Umed," interrupted Sam, "You were amazing today."

"I only did what needed doing," blushed the raven-haired man, "Now the rest is up to the doctors and Charles.  And knowing the way he feels about you, there's no way in hell he'll give up that easy."

"Thank you, Umed, really," Sam said earnestly, “And you too, Lucy.  I’m glad you both were there.”

"Me too,” replied Lucy as she stood, “How about I grab us some coffee?"

"I won't say no," nodded Sam, "Though I should warn you, the coffee here is...an...an abomination," she couldn't stifle an errant sob as she remembered the last time she'd had the hospital's coffee; with Charles.

"Hey hey," hushed Umed, "If it's that bad, we won't make you drink it."

"N-no," chuckled Sam, "It's fine, I could do with some."

Lucy went to grab some java as Umed and Samuel proceeded to tell her what had happened at Young Technologies once she'd left with Charles.  After giving hurried statements to the police, they'd all hopped into a private car, Lucy having called for Maria again.

"She does like to drive fast," commented Sam.

"With the way this one was screaming," Samuel indicated Umed, "You'd think she'd broken the sound barrier or something."

Sam let out the first genuine laugh she’d had since...the night before, thinking, 'So much has happened within 24 hours.'  At that point, Lucy returned with four cups of coffee, all present taking a sip and agreeing with Charles' review of it.  They then each recounted what had happened from their own perspectives, finding a sense of comfort in their shared experiences.  Right when Sam was finishing her recollection, a familiar voice floated over from the ER entrance, "There they are."

She turned to see Monica, Angela, and Vikki walking in, another raw smile gracing her features.  She stood and embraced each of her friends, asking, "How are you guys here?"

"Lucy called us," Monica winked at the bespectacled redhead, receiving a jovial salute in return.

"Thank you again, Lucy," Sam hugged her.

"I thought you might need your squad," Lucy replied.

"Sam, what happened?" asked Angela.

Sam started to explain, but halted when a woman's voice rang out across the waiting room, "Family of Charles Jones?"

Sam whipped around, raising a hand and calling out, "Here."

A small woman with a nevertheless commanding presence crossed over to them, clipboard in hand.  As she approached, Sam noted she was wearing a surgical cap with small sheep on it, feeling strangely comforted by the sight.

"Which one of you is Samuel Young?"

"That would be me," the Young Patriarch rose from his chair.

"I’m Dr. Buskarah, one of Mr. Jones’ surgeons.  He has you listed as his emergency contact?"

"Yes," nodded Samuel, then noticed the weird look he was receiving from his daughter, "What? It's a work thing..."

Sam shook her head and turned to the surgeon, "Is he...how is...what's his status?" she finally managed.

"I won't lie to you," she stated bluntly, "We almost lost him.  There was relatively extensive bleeding in his abdomen, and his heart tried to give out on us."

"Almost...?" Sam asked, voice barely above a whisper.

"I don't see it often, but he managed to hold out.  He must have something, or someone, to hang on to," Sam could have sworn the woman's eyes twinkled at her.

"How's his leg?" asked Umed, "Will he need hardware?"

Dr. Buskarah’s eyes slid to Umed, "Are you the first responder who was on scene?"

"Y-yeah," he blushed, "Just an advanced first aider, really."

"Well your quick thinking with that leg stabilization is the reason he’s alive right now, and that he’ll likely be able to walk again."

"I...So he'll be back to normal?" Umed had caught on to what she was saying.

"He will recover," she said carefully, "Ortho is dealing with his femur right now, they're confident they can fix it with a minimal approach."

"That's a relief," exhaled Sam, "Will you be with him too?"

Since she couldn’t be in the operating room with Charles, Sam knew she’d feel far more reassured if this woman was there in her stead, having already decided that she liked her.

"Yes.  I was able to stabilize the bleeding, but I’ll still be keeping a close eye on him until he’s out of the OR," Dr. Buskarah smiled for the first time, “I don’t want Ortho messing around and undoing all of my fine work.”

"Thank you," Sam blurted out, resisting the urge to hug her.

"Is there anything else you wish to ask?"

"I kn-know you'll be better able to answer my questions after the s-surgery," stated Sam, "So I'll let you get back to looking after him."

The surgeon smiled at her, "I will update you once he's been transferred to his room, it will likely be a few hours."

"Alright," Sam nodded, "Thank you, again."

"I will speak with you soon," and with that, Dr. Buskarah headed back toward the surgical ward, Sam watching worriedly until she was out of sight.

"That's good news, then," Vikki's calming voice soothed over the brunette, "He's made it through what sounds like the worst part, Sam."

"Yeah," she sighed in response, dropping back into her chair.

"We'll be here with you, Kiddo," said Monica softly, "Anything you need."

"Thank you, all of you," Sam smiled, feeling lucky to have such amazing people around her.

"Marshall wanted me to tell you he's thinking of you guys," added Monica, "He'll order in food as soon as I let him know we're on our way back."

"Tell him thanks for me," Sam replied.

They spent the next hour or so filling Monica, Angela, and Vikki in on what had happened.  Sam had begun crying again on describing the truck hitting Charles, her tears subsiding slightly when Samuel had put his arm around her.  They continued talking until Vikki noticed the petite brunette was having a hard time keeping her eyes open.

"Why don't you have a rest, Sam," she suggested, "We'll be right here."

"Mmmkay," Sam replied sleepily, leaning her head against her father's shoulder, "Just for a bit."

Sam woke with a start at the sound of Dr. Buskarah's voice, noticing with a smile that her father was in the exact same position he'd been when she fell asleep.

"How did it go?" asked Sam, wiping the sleep from her eyes while the surgeon walked over to them.

"It went very well," smiled Dr. Buskarah, "He's in his room now, recovering."

She paused as everyone present let out cheers, tears of joy, shaking hands with the lot of them.  Once they'd quieted, she continued, "We'll be keeping him here for at least two weeks, mainly to monitor him for signs of infection, keep an eye out for any residual bleeding, and begin early mobilization."

"Will he need rehab?" asked Umed.

"Yes, a few months," nodded Dr. Buskarahh.

"Will...will he be able to walk normally ag-gain?" Sam’s voice was quiet, having been afraid to ask.

"Ortho is confident he will be able to return to his full baseline function, yes," nodded the surgeon, causing the eruption of wide grins all around.

"When can we see him?" Sam asked eagerly.

"I can take two of you now," Dr. Buskarah answered, "The rest of you can see him once he's awake."

"You and I will go, Pumpkin," Mr. Young spoke up, straightening his tie as he stood.

"Okay," nodded Sam, turning to her friends, "I'll come and get you guys when he's ready."

They exchanged some brief 'see you later's', then Sam followed Dr. Buskarah and her father, keeping up easily with the briskly walking pair.  They rode the elevator up two floors, and then down the hall to a private suite.  Dr. Buskarah went in ahead of them, but Sam found herself hesitating, hands clammy as they hung clasped at her sides.

"Everything alright, Samara?" asked Samuel, eyeing his daughter with concern.

"I'm just...a lot happened," she replied.

"I know you love him," Samuel replied softly, leaning down to kiss her forehead, "And I think he needs you to be there when he wakes up."

Sam nodded, smiling at her father before taking a breath and walking in.  The room was relatively large, and had a few homey touches to it that made it feel a bit less sterile than most hospital rooms.  It also held a private bathroom, as well as an extra sink and small fridge, likely for visitors.  Several lamps were blazing warmly, lighting up the sight that awaited her on the hospital bed, the head of which abutted the right-hand wall.  Sam thought he looked so small lying there, his features soft and unguarded, albeit, less pale.  She crossed the room to him, reaching up to run her fingers along his jaw, smoothing back his hair, finally landing on his hand.

"You scared me, Charles Jones," she spoke softly, bending over to lightly kiss his lips.

They didn't respond, but were warm, and for the first time since she'd found out he was leaving, she felt hopeful.  She was so absorbed with looking at his face, that she didn't hear Samuel come in until he spoke from right behind her.

"Here, Pumpkin, have a seat."

She turned to see he'd pulled up a chair for her, and smiled up at him, "Thanks, Dad."

She sat and scooched closer, not letting go of Charles' hand.  Samuel lowered himself into an armchair on the other side of the room, tiredly running his hand through his hair.

"He's going to be okay," sighed Samuel, more so to himself than to her.

"Yes, I think so," replied Sam, keeping her eyes on Charles' face, willing him to stir.

They sat in comfortable silence, waiting.  Eventually the warmth of the room and the comfort of her chair had Sam's head dipping, her fatigue catching up with her again.  She propped her arms on the side of the bed, gently opening Charles' hand and resting her cheek against his palm, soon drifting off to sleep.

When Charles did finally approach wakefulness, it happened slowly.  First, there was sound; the beeping of a monitor, the quiet tapping of fingers on a phone screen, someone's deep, even breathing.  Next was sensation; the feel of unfamiliar fabric on his body, a slight itch in the crook of his arm, a numbness from the waist down.  He also registered the feeling of soft skin against his palm, his hand experiencing the first stages of pins and needles.  He floated closer to consciousness and vague memories began to surface:  Digging his ring out of the garbage, then Sam crying, then yelling at each other in the boardroom...and then the rest came crashing down all at once.  The truck, pushing Sam out of the way, pain, finally confessing his love for her, hearing her say it in return...and then blackness. 

He painstakingly prised his eyes open, blinking against the lighting, finding it to be less harsh than he'd expected.  He took a deep breath and looked around his hospital room, noting he wasn't sharing it with another patient.  As he continued his survey, his startled gaze met with the stern one of his employer.  The older man stood from his chair and approached wordlessly.  Charles was unsure of what to expect, but it certainly wasn't the comforting hand Samuel placed on his shoulder paired with a silent nod before he made an exit.  Charles felt incredibly grateful to the Young patriarch in that moment, for allowing him to get his bearings before speaking with the one person he wanted to see, above all else. 

He watched her sleep, still taken with how beautiful she was in slumber, her deep measured breaths instilling a sense of peace within him.  'She's okay, she's alive, she's here,' he thought, recalling the naked fear he'd felt when seeing the truck come barrelling toward her.  It had all happened so fast, but at the same time, it'd felt suddenly right, like something missing had slotted into place.  He loved her, this small brunette sleeping on his hand, whom he'd tried to leave less than a day ago, 'Or perhaps more, who knows how long I've been out.'  And she loved him too.  It was something he'd already known, but hearing her say it directly to his face the way she had...he felt light.  He partly attributed it to the strong painkillers he was most likely on – he had been hit by a literal truck - but his heart was warmer and less burdened than it had been in ages. 

He pondered over these new emotions for a moment, trying to figure out what to say to her.  He still had to answer for quite a bit, but he was certain how he felt about her, and wasn't afraid to make it known.  He'd acted the fool, and now he had to prove he wasn't one.  Feeling a bit more sorted, he slowly stroked his thumb along Sam's cheek, watching her long delicate lashes flutter as she began to awaken.  Her eyes opened, still glazed over with sleep until she saw the ocean blue.

"Charles," she breathed, a joyful smile overtaking her face.

"I'm glad to see you smile," he replied, wearing an equally elated expression.

"I'm just happy you're awake," she said, lifting his knuckles to her mouth and pressing a kiss against them.

"I know I have a lot of making up to do," he started, taking her hand in both of his, "And I'll understand if you've changed your mind after what I did.  But I want you to know that what I confessed to you wasn't a spur-of-the moment, 'I'm about to die' type of proclamation.  I meant what I said, every single word.  I needed you to understand that, just in case you do choose to walk away, for which I would not blame you."

Sam had maintained a neutral expression while he spoke.  She mulled over his words and realized he thought she hated him, that she might not forgive him.  True, he had acted like an idiot - and she planned to tell him that - and she still expected him to make it up to her.  But she found in that moment, seeing him alive and awake after he'd looked so lifeless, she couldn't bring herself to be angry with him.  

The corner of her mouth quirked upward as she said, "You, Mr. Jones, are an idiot."

"I know," he grinned sheepishly.

She returned it in full force, leaning over to kiss him fiercely.  His arms encircled her, pulling her as tightly against him as he could manage, savouring the way her lips felt against his, having wondered if he'd ever feel it again.  As the kiss lingered, he felt the last bit of doubt he'd still been harbouring be completely obliterated in the face of her reaction to him; like a ray of sunlight blasting away the darkness.

They broke apart, foreheads pressed together as he spoke with certainty, "Samara, I can't promise you that loving me will be easy, nor will it be simple.  Ghosts don't disappear quite so quickly.  But I do promise that I will never pull something like that again," he held up his hand, "On my honour."  

"You'd better not," she arched an eyebrow at him, "Or else I'll punish you...and not in a good way."

He smirked at her, "You realize invoking such images in the mind of someone currently unable to do anything about them is rather cruel."

"Suck it up," she retorted playfully.

Charles was quiet for a moment as he regarded her, then reached to tilt her chin up slightly, "In any case, just for good measure…I love you, Samara Young."

"I love you too," she replied softly.

They kissed once more, tenderly this time, before Sam leaned back, "I should go and tell the others you're awake, I just wanted you to myself for a few moments."

"No need," Angela's voice sounded from behind her, "Your dad came and got us."

"Where is he now?" asked Sam, craning her neck to peer around the girls as they walked in.

"He said he had to call your mom," answered Vikki, walking around to the far side of the bed, "How are you feeling, Charles? Are you in much pain?"

"Not so much at the moment," he replied, "I suspect I'm on a heavy cocktail of painkillers."

"Ah the good stuff," winked Monica, "They'll take great care of you here."

"Yeah, Papa Young saw to that," commented Angela, looking around the suite.

"Did Umed and Lucy not want to come in?" asked Sam.

"They told us to go ahead first so Charles wouldn't be too overwhelmed, we won't stay long," explained Monica.

"Okay," nodded Sam.

They all looked up as the nurse walked in, a tall willowy man with his black hair pulled back into a ponytail.

"Hello everyone," he greeted with a smile, "My name is Ling and I'll be Mr. Jones' nurse for the night."

"Hi Ling," Sam smiled softly.

"You seem to be a popular guy," Ling teased, gesturing toward the others in the room.

"I shouldn't be right now, really," the Welshman tried to deflect.

Before Ling could respond, Sam interjected firmly, "That's enough, Charles.  What you did, deciding to leave like that, yes it was horrible.  But it wasn't done out of malice, it was out of love...I can see that now.  So don't you dare slide back into the self-loathing that I know got you here in the first place.  You are loved, Charles, get used to it."

Ling and the girls all stared at Sam, some with parted mouths, others with proud grins.  Charles wore an expression that was a mixture of sheepishness and appreciation, wondering what exactly he'd done to deserve someone such as her.

"Well, now that that's settled," Ling spoke again, "Shall we talk about your treatment plan?"

"Of course," nodded Charles.

"We'll take our leave," said Vikki softly, dipping her head toward Charles before walking over to Sam.

She and the other girls all gave her a hug and wished a quick recovery, promising to visit again. 

"We'll wait at a nearby cafe," said Monica as she grasped Sam's hand, "And give you a ride home when you're ready.  We're only a text away."

"Thanks you guys," Sam smiled appreciatively.

"No worries," smiled Vikki.

"We gotchu," added Angela with a wink.

Once the door had closed behind the girls, Ling looked to Charles, "Has anyone been by to speak with you about your injuries?"

"Not as of yet," Charles rubbed the back of his neck, "I haven't been awake that long."

"Ah, then allow me to fill you in," Ling tapped out a few things on his tablet, pulling up Charles' chart, "You came in with a broken femur and internal bleeding after being struck by a vehicle," Sam winced and reached for Charles' hand, reassured by the Welshman's returning grip, "Dr. Buskarah was able to stop your internal bleeding, and Dr. Vycra successfully completed a reduction and fixation of your femur, which means you have a large metal rod in your leg."

Sam sniffed loudly at that news, realizing Charles now had a piece of metal stuck in him because he'd saved her life.  He seemed to have interpreted her reaction, tugging on her hand until she faced him.

"Do not think for one moment that I wouldn't do it all over again, Bunty," he said softly, bringing her knuckles to his lips, "I would take any hardship, if it meant your wellbeing."

"I know," Sam smiled, and meant it.

She finally felt she understood Charles more fully, though she still expected several explanations from him.  Charles pressed a kiss to her palm and encased her hand with his before turning back to Ling and asking, "What does recovery look like?"

"Well, you'll be here about two or so weeks while we monitor you postoperatively, particularly for infection, and get you moving again.  Once you're in the clear, we'll send you home with proper planning, and it could take around four to six months for you to heal completely."

"Will..." Charles swallowed hard, unsure of what the answer would be, "Will I walk normally again?"

"With the right physical therapy regimen, absolutely," smiled Ling, having sensed the Welshman's apprehension, "We'll actually get you up and moving in the next day or two, and go from there.  I will say, you’d likely be in much rougher shape if you hadn't received such excellent care on scene."

"Thank you," Charles exhaled with relief, making a mental note to thoroughly thank Umed for everything he'd done.

"Do you have any more questions for me?" asked Ling, "If not, I'll just check a few things here and then be out of your hair."

"When are visiting hours?" Sam asked as Ling checked Charles' temperature.

"They start at 10 am and go until 9 pm," he replied, recording the reading.

"Then I'll be here until nine," nodded Sam, looking over to Charles.

"I'll make sure to be late for his next check then," smirked Ling, "I'll come at say, 9:30? You two have been through a lot today, an extra half hour isn't going to hurt anyone."

"You have my thanks," Charles smiled genuinely at the raven-haired man.

"Me too," added Sam.

"No problem at all," Ling winked, "Anything else I can do for you before I leave?"

"Would you mind telling our two friends in the waiting room, Lucy and Umed, that they can come in?" asked Sam.

"Can do," said Ling as he headed out the door, though paused just past the threshold.

Sam and Charles could hear some voices conversing, right before Lucy and Umed walked in together, having been anxiously waiting outside the room.

"Ahhh the towhead is awake," grinned Umed, Lucy running ahead to pull Charles into a hug.

"Ah! I appreciate the sentiment, Lucy, b-but, please be gentle," he grimaced.

"Sorry, Charles!" exclaimed Lucy, "I just...I'm happy you're okay."

"Me too," he replied, flashing her a smile.

"My turn,” Umed held his fist up to the Welshman, opting to not exacerbate his friend’s injuries.

The blond stared at Umed’s closed hand, then arched an eyebrow at the dark-haired man, the latter shifting his fist closer.  Charles smirked and gently rapped his knuckles against Umed’s, receiving a grin in response.

"So how long will you be in here?" asked Umed, looking around the room, "Not that it's too shabby, if I do say so myself."

"A couple of weeks," replied Charles as he readjusted his bed, "Followed by several months of rehabilitation at home."

"Could be worse," commented Umed as he tapped his chin.

"Yes," agreed Charles, "And it would be, had you not been there, Umed."

"I just followed my training," replied Umed bashfully, a rosy tinge creeping over his cheeks.

"Truly," said Charles, tone sincere, "The nurse said the reason I'll likely have a full recovery is due to your quick thinking.  Thank you, my friend."

"You're welcome, friend," said Umed, "But know that I'm not going to go easy on you just because you're an invalid."

"I would be appalled if you did," joked Charles.

"Glad to see you're back to your smartass-"

"So you two finally confessed your love for one another," Lucy interrupted gleefully, hands clasped beneath her chin as she looked between Charles and Sam.

"Been waiting to touch on that, have you?" sighed Charles.

"Technically, I confessed it last night," added Sam in a lightly teasing tone.

"And that is something I intend on spending a lot of time apologizing for," Charles replied genuinely, his gaze focused on Sam's.

"You'd better," stated Umed.

"So when's the wedding?" asked Lucy, either ignorant to or willfully ignoring the way the room read.

"I beg your pardon?" the Welshman exclaimed at the same time as Sam began having a coughing fit.

Charles immediately grabbed Sam's hand and placed it on his chest, taking deep calming breaths, "Breathe with me, Bunty."

Through the tears, Sam locked eyes with him and followed his breathing, feeling like they were the only two in the room.

"See? Husband material," Lucy stage whispered to Umed.

Though all talk of weddings and husbands ceased when Samuel came back into the room, casting an odd look at Sam's hand on Charles' chest.

"Is his heart okay?" queried the Young Patriarch.

"Oh, yes," Sam blushed, pulling her hand back, "S-so how's Mom?"

"She'll be on the next flight out," replied Samuel, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall.

"That's really not nec-" Charles started to protest.

"She's worried about you, Jones," Samuel cut him off before he could self-deprecate, "And our little Princess," he nodded to Sam.  "I've also been in touch with your mother, she will be catching a flight tomorrow afternoon.  She's expecting a call from you in the morning."

"I don't-" the blond tried to object.

"She'll be flying first class.  I've arranged for a car to drive her to the airport there, and for another one to pick her up here."

"I...thank you, sir," Charles was speechless.

"You saved my daughter's life, Jones, it's the least I can do," Samuel's voice was gruff, but all present could hear the warmth behind it.

They continued talking for a bit about the business and the logistics surrounding it.  It was discussed that Charles could work remotely, Umed agreeing to take point on a few other projects, and Samuel would pick up the managerial side of things until Charles could fully return.  The Welshman had protested at first, insisting he would come back as soon as possible, to which Samuel had threatened to fire him if he came back before the doctors recommended it.  Then Samuel's phone rang.

"Ah this is my travel agent confirming flight itineraries, I'll be right back," he answered the call as he walked out the door.

"Lucy and I are going to the cafeteria to grab something to eat, can we bring you guys back anything?" asked Umed.

"Umm maybe a sandwich?" Sam asked shyly.

"Done," Umed snapped his fingers.

"I'm not entirely sure yet what I'm allowed to eat," mused Charles.

"Raincheck for now then," nodded Umed before he and Lucy made their way out.

Sam sat on the edge of the bed and reached for the blond’s hand, brow furrowing with concern as she spoke, "I guess you haven't eaten yet, have you?"

"They will likely bring me something soon," Charles reassured her softly, lifting a hand to smoothen the creases on her forehead with his fingers.

"Are you thirsty?" she asked, leaning into his touch.

"Perhaps a bit," he replied.

"I'll go see about getting you some water," she smiled, kissing his forehead before walking out, both of them unaware that a certain CEO had witnessed their exchange with a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"You two remind me of another couple I know," commented Samuel as he stepped in, taking a seat in one of the armchairs.

"W-we're not-"

"Save it, Jones," Samuel chuckled, "...Charles.  I was there for the whole love confession thing, remember?"

"Yes," Charles blushed, "I suppose you were.  Thank you, by the way...though I will say I'm surprised to still be alive, quite frankly."

"Well a little birdy, whom I love fiercely and admire above all else," he clenched his hand into a fist in front of his face, "Told me that Samara loves you.  And while I hate the idea of her doing anything even remotely adult-like," Charles watched quietly as the older man exhaled heavily, "I do have to recognize that my pumpkin is growing up and falling in love...and it seems she's chosen you."

"I swear on my life I will do everything in my power to be the right choice, for her," Charles' tone was serious, the two of them sharing a charged moment.

Which Samuel promptly broke when he said, "You'd better, because if you so much as harm one hair on her precious little head, I will run you down myself," Charles flinched at the imagery his words evoked.

"Too soon?" asked Samuel with an air of teasing about him.   

"As we've seen, I'm not that easy to kill," Charles replied with a smirk.

"Thankfully," nodded Samuel, expression shedding its levity, "Has anyone told you about the incident, itself?"

"Just about my injuries.  Other than that, all I have to go on are my less than pristine memories of it," Charles tried to joke, but knew it fell flat.

"Does the name Darin Whittaker ring any bells for you?" Samuel carefully observed Charles' face as he asked.

"Darin Whittaker..." the blond mumbled to himself.

Suddenly the memory of a briefcase engraved with that name flitted into his mind, the face of the man holding it following behind.  Charles instantly went into self-blame mode, making a connection far quicker than Samuel had expected.

"He...I bumped into him outside of our office building," Charles' voice was hoarse, his eyes beseeching, "He asked me...he asked where Young Technologies was...I showed him his target.  It's my fault, I'm the reason Samara almost..."

Samuel’s heart clenched on seeing how much guilt the Welshman already felt for what had happened.  He debated internally on whether or not to tell Charles the rest, but felt it was better he found out sooner rather than later.

"Darin Whittaker used to work for NexTek," Samuel said softly, "Up until-"

"Two weeks ago, when I refused their proposal," Charles sounded like a man broken, burying his face in his hands, fingers gripping his hair, "It is because of me, all of it.  If I had just accepted their terms..."

"Then you would have compromised our own company," Samuel finished for him.

Charles looked up, his expression one of a man teetering between anger and regret, "But Samara could have-"

"She didn't," Samuel interrupted, the conviction in his tone helping ease Charles back from the edge, "You were there.  Despite making the decision to leave, despite trying to push her away for what you likely thought were the right reasons, you were there.  She's alive because of you."

"And she would have been dead because of me too," the blond uttered bitterly, hands fisting the bed sheets.

"No," Samuel's firm reply almost made Charles jump, "If, god forbid, something had happened to her, it would have been Darin's fault, not yours.  You are not to blame for the failings of others.  All you did was make the correct decision for your company-"
"You mean your company," corrected Charles.

"Actually you and I are going to talk about that later, when you're well," Samuel smirked, continuing his previous point before Charles could say anything more, "It was the right decision, Charles.  There's no way you could have anticipated things playing out this way."

"Shouldn't I have?" the anguish in Charles' voice had Samuel questioning how he could have ever seen this man as the villain, "I claim to be able to read people, to manipulate them even...but I didn't see this coming."

"You know what that means?" Samuel asked cryptically, waiting for Charles' gaze to meet his.

"I'm losing my touch?"

Samuel let out a laugh, "No, my boy, it means that you're regaining your faith in humanity."

Charles ran a hand through his hair as he pondered over his employer's words.  No matter how much he tried to deny it, Samuel's analysis kept ringing true, "Because of her," he voiced softly.

"I'd venture to say you two are better for one another than you might think," winked Samuel.

"I...thank you, sir," Charles looked up at him, astounded.

"Call me 'dad'," Samuel grinned widely.

Charles choked, eyes bulging, trying vainly to word a response until Samuel burst out laughing, "Just kidding, Jones,” his eyes narrowed, “Call me that and I will make you disappear."

The blond let out a nervous chuckle, knowing full well Samuel could make it happen.

"However, seeing as you're," the older man grimaced, "Dating my daughter...I suppose a first-name basis wouldn't be too horrible."

"I...I think I can get used to that…Samuel," Charles smiled genuinely.

"Excellent," Samuel pulled out his phone, "Now if you'll excuse me, Charles, I have a phone call to make.  Samantha wagered I would toss you from the hospital roof, and now she owes me tickets to Diznay on Ice."

Charles arched an eyebrow at his employer’s retreating back, a myriad of emotions flushing through him in the wake of their conversation.  He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, wondering what was keeping Sam, and thinking maybe it wouldn't hurt to just rest his eyes for a little.  Repose would not be forthcoming, however, as a less than welcome face was heralded by hesitant footsteps entering his room.  Charles looked up, his countenance immediately stormy on seeing Jay Young standing before him.

Sam had gone to the nurse's station first, asking for Ling.  The nurse who had been there, an older woman with a kind smile and reassuring voice, had told her Ling was with a patient, but he'd be back shortly.  Sam had chosen to wait, sitting in one of the nearby chairs and nervously chewing on her thumb as she reminded herself that Charles was alive, would be okay, and that he loved her.  It was no longer a poorly kept secret between them, things were out in the open.  And while she wasn't entirely sure what that meant, she felt warm thinking about how her future would now include Charles, with certainty.

"You look happy about something."

Sam looked up toward a familiar face, breaking out into a grin on seeing Ruth smirking at her.

"Hi!" she exclaimed, pulling the other woman into a hug.

"Sweetie, I heard about Charles," Ruth said soothingly, embracing Sam fully, "Has he woken up yet?"

"Yes," nodded Sam, "And he's going to be okay.  I was actually just trying to find out if he can have some water."

"Gimme one sec," Ruth stepped over to the nurse Sam had been speaking with.

The brunette felt her phone buzz, checking it quickly while Ruth was still in conversation.  It was a text from Marshall, 'Hey Sam.  Just wanted to let you know I'm thinking of you guys, and I'm down to play Super Bash Bros tonight if you need.'  Sam smiled, feeling suddenly incredibly grateful to have so many wonderful people in her life.  She quickly keyed out a response, 'Thanks Marshall, that sounds great.'  She felt it vibrate again, laughing on reading, 'And tell COG I'll drop by to visit him tomorrow.'  Sam replied with, 'Will do', before tucking her phone back into her pocket.

"He's fine to have water in small sips and even some soup broth," smiled Ruth as she walked back, "What do you say we bring him some?"

"Sounds good," nodded Sam, "Thank you, Ruth."

Charles eyed the man standing a few feet away from him, finding his ire grow the longer Jay remained silent.

"I am not a pediatric patient, last I checked," the Welshman stated coldly, arms crossed.

Jay cleared his throat, "I heard about how you saved Sam and...I just wanted to thank you."

"And did you use your status as a doctor to come by that information? Or was that only for violating Samara's privacy," Charles sneered.

Jay's eyes snapped up to meet his, a mildly shocked expression on his face, "She told you about that?"

"She didn't have to," Charles raised an eyebrow at him, "I was there for the conversation."

"You were eavesdropping on her?" Jay asked angrily, attempting to gain back some ground.

"I didn't need to," Charles' voice rose minutely, "She came to stand in front of me and put you on speakerphone so I could hear precisely what she thought of me.  I still don't entirely believe I deserve it from her, but I what I do know is that she didn't for an instant deserve the treatment she received from you."

Jay glared at him, the tension between them palpable until the former let his shoulders droop, "You're right," he admitted defeatedly.

"Pardon me?" asked Charles, taken aback for the umpteenth time that day.

"What I did was awful," Jay continued, "And I'm not entirely sure how I'll ever make it up to her, but that's my problem, not yours.  Thank you for saving her life, Charles.  I may not be able to forget what happened between you and I in the past, but I think I can come to forgive it," he held his hand out, "Truce?"

Charles evaluated the other man for a moment, then reached out to meet his grasp firmly, shaking once, "Tentatively, a truce.  Provided you apologize to Samara."

"I will," Jay nodded, "When she's ready."

"Good choice," Charles commented.

Jay turned as if to leave, then said one final piece, "I'm glad she has you in her corner.  The way you defended her just now, from her own brother...I admire that.  I did that day in the clinic too, but was too stubborn to admit it…Take care of her, Charles."

"She’s quite capable of taking care of herself," stated the blond, “Though I will continue to watch out for her.”

Jay nodded and made to leave, but froze on seeing Sam and Ruth standing in the doorway.

"H-how much did you...?" he stammered, cheeks beet red.

"Enough," replied Sam evenly.  

She moved to walk past him, but paused and gently placed a hand on his arm, "We will talk later."

"Okay," Jay smiled then turned to Ruth, "I'll just be outside, babe."

Sam went to Charles, placing the cup of water she was holding on the table and leaning forward to plant a firm kiss on his lips.

"Hello to you too," he teased.

"Thank you," she smiled genuinely, "For standing up for me."

"Not that you need it," he said softly, nudging her nose with his.

"Well he was being a real Cachwr," Sam butchered the Welsh word on purpose, elated to see how it made Charles smile, "So I won't be going easy on him."

"Good girl," he teased softly.

Ruth passed Sam the bowl of chicken broth, the brunette placing it on the table tray for Charles.

"You're allowed to have some broth," she explained on seeing his raised eyebrow.

He took a small sip, making a face, "It pales in comparison to your chicken soup," Sam blushed as he continued, "Seeing as I'm an invalid, perhaps you could make some for me," he grinned impishly.

"Or maybe your mom can show me her way of making cawl," Sam smirked, "We might get to throw those vegetables at you after all.

Charles let out a genuine laugh and Sam couldn't help but join in, Ruth looking oddly at both of them.

"I've always loved your laugh," Sam said softly as she traced his jaw.

"What's this about throwing vegetables?" interjected Ruth.

Charles watched with a small smile as Sam told Ruth the story of his childhood that would answer her question.  This feeling of contentment had become foreign to him up until now, and he couldn't help feeling relieved he was still capable of it.

"Oh I see," laughed Ruth, "So Sam, you get to meet his mom! That's exciting."

Sam suddenly blushed, realizing the truth of Ruth's words.

"And my mother will love you," Charles said reassuringly, recognizing the crimson on her cheeks, "Probably more than she loves me, come to think of it."

"I see you've added comedy to your list of talents," teased Ruth, checking her watch.

"I've always been funny," replied Charles somewhat indignantly.

"Okay," smiled Ruth, "I've gotta go check on some patients.  I'll come by and visit later this week."

"Alright, bye Ruth," said Sam, giving her future sister-in-law a hug.

"Goodbye, Ruth," nodded Charles, "I appreciate that."

Ruth waved at them before ducking out the door, leaving Sam and Charles alone together again.  Sam's expression grew thoughtful, turning to Charles with as neutral a gaze as she could muster.

"So...about the leaving for London thing."

"Ah, yes," Charles winced.

His pain medication was beginning to wear off, but he wanted to maintain as clear a head as possible for the oncoming conversation.

"How would you have told me about it if I hadn't found out from Lucy?" she searched his features for the answer to her question.

"In person, at lunch, and I would have given you the rest of the day off, if you'd wanted," he said softly.

"I wouldn't have taken it," she replied.

"I figured," he smiled sheepishly.

He wanted to reach for her hand, but daren't in that moment, unsure of how she'd react, or if he even deserved it in the first place.  So when she laced her fingers through his, he shuddered with relief, some of his anxiety lessening.

"You were scared, I get that," her eyes were on their interlocked digits, "Probably scared of me hurting you...t-the way Gwen did."

"No, Samara," he brought both of her hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to each before holding them there as he spoke, "If I ever gave you that impression, then I apologize wholeheartedly.  I also apologize deeply for everything I said to you earlier today."

"It feels like so long ago," she murmured.

"Nonetheless," he held her gaze, eyes sincere, "I will spend as long as it takes making it up to you.  Do you remember what I said to you those weeks ago? That you make me have faith that there are good people in this world..."

"Who would never betray those who are close to them," she finished for him.

"That never stopped holding true," he smiled weakly at her, "I have never for one second thought you ever capable of betraying me the way Gweneth did."

"Then, what was it?" she asked, reaching up to cup his cheek.

"I was afraid for you," he exhaled, leaning into her touch, "That I would be the one to hurt you, to damage you, irreparably and irrevocably."

"Charles," a tear slid down her cheek as she fully acknowledged the fathomless depth of this man's self-loathing.

"The moment you said you loved me..." he took a deep breath, "For a brief second I was indescribably happy, warm, like I could truly envision a future with you."

Sam waited silently for him to continue, not bothering to wipe away the following tears.

"But then...the part of me that's been saying for years how I'll never be good enough for anyone, never deserve love, that I never deserved it in the first place...I let it convince me that those things pertained to you as well.  I sincerely believed that by letting you fall in love with me - something I had been able to deny up until that moment - I'd already corrupted you, already begun dragging you down."

He raised his hand to wipe her tears from her face, "To me, you are the embodiment of light, Samara, of warmth and all that is good...and I thought it would be your best chance at living a life full of the happiness you deserve, if I were to cut things off.  Which is exactly what I did, and I don't think I have anything else in my life that I regret more."

His hand dropped back to the bed, eyes shining as his own tears threatened to spill over, "I will never stop loving you, Samara, even if you decide to walk out that door right now…the short time we've had together will be enough."

Sam was silent for a few seconds, then reached out to Charles in a way that mirrored how he'd once done to her, "Would you...still like to have a future with me?"

He gripped her hand with both of his, bringing his forehead down to rest on it.  His voice hitched as he spoke, "I would love nothing more."

Sam could feel his tears against her palm, giving him a second to bear them before she gripped his chin and tilted his head upward, "Charles Jones, will you be my boyfriend?"

"I am yours in every sense of the word," he laughed, pulling her to him for a kiss. 

It was sweet, and salty from the taste of tears, but they got lost in each other nonetheless.  They broke apart for air, foreheads touching as Charles added, "And it'll be sans ring this time too, it would appear I lost it during the 'incident'."

"Actually," said Sam, reaching into her pocket.

She pulled out the small band of metal, holding it out on her opened palm.  He stared at it, finding that, for the first time, he felt nothing.  It no longer held any meaning for him, and the corner of his mouth curved upward at the thought.  He reached over, curling her fingers over it with his hands.

"I don't need it anymore," he said softly, "And this time I truly mean it."

"Maybe I'll keep it just in case, so you don't have to go digging through the garbage again," she commented as she dropped it into her bag, having put two and two together on finding the ring earlier.

"Such cheek," he rumbled.

He pulled her onto the bed with him, Sam snuggling into his side and tilting her head up for a kiss.  Right as their lips met, a loud peal of thunder sounded through the window.  Both of them jumped, neither having even noticed it was raining.

"Remember the last time it was storming outside?" Sam asked quietly, the lightning reflected in her glasses.

Charles threaded his fingers into her hair, pulling her into a deep kiss very similar to the night in question, both thinking back to it.  Sam felt his tongue trace her bottom lip, granting him access on meeting it with her own.  They were oblivious to the world around them; Charles tasting, feeling, hearing only Sam, and likewise for her.  It petered out into a soft brushing of the lips, Sam's voice hushed as she stated, "I'll always be glad that you were my first."

"I can't tell you what that means to me," he murmured, kissing the top of her head, "And I also plan to be your last."

As their lips met again, Charles felt a surge of relief after finally speaking that thought aloud.  His hands slid to her upper back, bringing her ever closer to him.  As she returned the embrace, he reflected on how he'd once berated himself over his 'burgeoning habit' of needing to touch her, but now welcomed it with open arms.  Meanwhile Sam smiled, noting how he was clinging to her just as she'd always done to him.  She thought all the way back to their conversation in the restaurant, when he'd tried to impose rules that she'd subsequently shot down.  They'd come so far since then, had ups and downs, but she wouldn't trade it for anything.  Something he'd said on the car ride after that discussion suddenly popped into her mind, ringing truer now than it had then.

"I just had a thought," she said, hand resting on his chest, "Do you remember when you said that there aren't always completely happy endings in this world?"

"Ah yes, after the tiramisu," he smiled fondly.

"I didn't understand then how on point you were," she continued, fiddling with the fabric of his gown, "Because this definitely isn't a fairytale ending."

"Agreed," he nodded, "I'm so very far away from being royalty, for one."

"If you say so, my prince," she teased, then her tone softened again, "I am glad, though, to learn how to navigate the best possible course...with you."

"As am I," his voice was low.

Neither of them was sure how long they lay there together, simply being with one another as they watched the rain wash against the window, backlit by lightning and punctuated by crashes of thunder.  Their heads turned in unison when a knock sounded on the door, Sam sitting up to see Oreeda walk in.

"Hi," she greeted warmly.

"Hey," returned Oreeda, "I just dropped off another patient nearby and thought I'd check in."

"It’s good to see you," grinned Sam before turning to the blond beside her, "Charles, this is Oreeda, she's one of the paramedics who brought you in."

"Hello, Oreeda," he held his hand out to her which she shook firmly, "I don't think words can really justify how thankful I am to you."

"That's alright," Oreeda blushed, "I was just doing my job."

"And I'm all the more alive for it," Charles replied.

"I'm glad to see you're okay," responded the medic, turning to Sam, "And you too.  Did everything go alright with surgery?"

"They said it all went very well," nodded Sam, "And he's going to have a pretty good recovery."

"Perfect," said Oreeda, then, "Alright I should probably get back to the rig, but here," she handed Sam a small red snack cup and a plastic spoon, "I snagged you some jello."

Sam took it thankfully, "Thank you again, for everything."

"You're more than welcome," said Oreeda, adding as she headed for the door, "I'll drop by again this week and check on your progress.  See you later!"

They bid their goodbyes and Sam opened the jello cup, scooping some onto the spoon and holding it up to Charles' mouth.  He raised an eyebrow at her, but closed his lips around it, a look of concentration as he identified the flavor.

"What?" asked Sam on seeing a sly smirk spread across his face.

"It's strawberry," he answered amusedly.

They both laughed, finishing off the dessert before Sam moved to lay beside him once again.  He shifted until he was resting his head on her chest, hearing her scoff at him.

"Delectable pillows such as these," he nuzzled against her breasts, "Are tantamount to my recovery."

"If you say so, Doctor Jones," she laughed.

Charles glanced up at her, seeing the love in her expression.  And this time, his heart had no trouble convincing his brain it was meant for him.  He settled back against her, able to hear the steady rhythm of her heartbeat, and feel her breathing deepen and even out.  He knew it had to have been a very long day for her, so he let her sleep.  He would have joined her in slumber, had his pain not become more prominent.  But he was loath to disturb Sam, so he held off on pressing the call button for more meds, he could take them later.  As he lay with her, he finally allowed his mind to wander over things he'd vehemently denied in the past. 

He pictured what leaving the hospital with her would be like, imagining she would likely want to spend a fair bit of time at his place while he recovered; not that he expected it.  He felt himself internally shying away from the idea of giving her a key to his apartment.  But he rationalized that it would be a logical move, considering she wouldn't stay away even if he wanted her to (which he absolutely did not).  On realizing this, he felt more at ease with the concept.  He could finally dwell on a future with Sam without punishing himself, without fear of hurting her (though that thought wasn't completely eradicated, merely held at bay). 

He'd long forgotten what it felt like to love and be loved, although this was different.  It was stronger, like it fit perfectly into an empty space he'd been carrying around all his life.  For what was probably the first time, he felt at peace; not necessarily complete yet, but the fractures he'd once bore had healed, leaving him intact instead of damaged.  Because of her.  He closed his eyes and let his mind wander, interrupted from his musings when Ling walked in.

"Hi Charles," Ling smiled, "How are you?"

Charles grimaced as he pushed himself to sitting, feeling Sam stir beneath him, "I've been better, but all things considered, not too bad I suppose."

"How neutral of you," joked Ling, "But I do see here that it's been a while since your last dose of pain meds, you must be in some pain."

"A bit," admitted the Welshman.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Sam scolded him, having fully woken up.

"I wanted to be fully present with you," he replied truthfully.

"Well...alright then," she crossed her arms.

"I hate to tell you this," interjected Ling, "But I'm afraid visiting hours ended...about 45 minutes ago."

"Are you suuure?" Sam asked, mischievous smile playing about her lips.

"I gave you all that I could," Ling shook his head in amusement, "But it's time."

"Not even-" started Sam, but Charles cut her off.

"Now, Bunty, must I make you read the rulebook again?" his tone was suggestive and Sam blushed fiercely at the memories he invoked.

Ling looked confusedly at both of them before shrugging and taking Charles' vital signs, leaving Sam room to hop off the bed.

"Well I'll be back bright and early tomorrow," she said decisively, slinging her bag over her shoulder before turning back to Charles, "Can I bring you anything?"

"I do need my glasses, I assume my contacts were taken out during surgery," Ling nodded in confirmation, "And my laptop certainly wouldn't go amiss," aid the blond, tapping his chin, "I've also just realized I don't have my phone."

"It should be in with your personal effects," stated Ling, pulling a plastic bag out from a nearby cabinet.  

He passed it to Charles who dug through the contents, pulling out his bright pink phone which had, miraculously, only received a few scuffs.

"Oh joy," he sighed sarcastically, "I suppose I can't justify getting a new phone then."

"Lucy will be happy," giggled Sam.

"I'm sure," he rolled his eyes, pulling his keys from the bag and passing them to Sam.

"Anything else?" asked Sam, "I'd offer to bring you a suit, but I know how you feel about getting them dirty, COG."

"Now really, Samara, are you going to insult an injured person like that?"

"If it's you, yup," she popped the 'p'.

"I thought you loved me," he pouted.

"I do love you," she said sincerely, walking over and pressing a kiss to his lips.

"And I, you," he murmured.

"So nothing else?" she asked one last time.

"I don't suppose I can convince you to wear that lacy black number tomorrow?"

"No!" she exclaimed, face beet red as her gaze shot to Ling, who was trying to hide a smile.

"Worth a shot," grinned the Welshman.

"I'll see you in the morning," she kissed him once more then turned to Ling, “Thank you for everything today, I feel better knowing you’re taking care of him.”

“My pleasure,” blushed the raven-haired man.

Then with a final wave, Sam left, texting Monica as she walked.  The minute she was out of sight, Charles groaned as he reclined against the pillow.

"Let's get you some painkillers," commented Ling, "And next time don't wait so long."

"I won't," the blond replied through clenched teeth.

"You've got a great lady there," Ling added as he tucked some equipment away.

"I really do," smiled Charles, gaze landing on the spot beside him where Sam had been laying.

The girls had been quick to pick Sam up and had driven with her back to her apartment, where they were joined by Marshall for take-out and video games.  She also received phone calls from everyone in her guild - including Dallas and Marie - her mom, Dee, Link, and surprisingly, Charles' mother, who had gotten Sam's number from Samuel and wanted to thank her for taking care of her son.

"Where did Umed go?" Sam asked Lucy as they geared up for the tenth round of Super Bash Bros.

"Samuel invited him out for a drink and to 'iron out some things for Young Tech's future'," Lucy replied, complete with air quotes.

"I see," mused Sam, curious as to what exactly that meant, but dismissing the thought for the time being.

After a few more rounds of gaming, they all decided to call it a night, each giving Sam a hug before departing.

"And remember," said Marshall, he and Monica being the last ones to leave, "We're right across the hall if you need anything."

"Thanks, Marshall," she smiled, the wind slightly knocked out of her as he pulled her in for one last tight embrace.

She waved the couple off before walking back into her apartment, planning to clean up then try texting Charles.  The first part of her plan went out the window when she noticed things had already been tidied up, 'Likely Vikki,' she thought to herself, smiling.  The second half suddenly came to fruition when her phone began ringing, Charles' name displayed across the screen.

"Hi Charles," she said warmly.

"H'llo, Bunty," he replied

She noted he was slurring his words, "Are you okay?"

"Peachy," his voice had an airy quality to it, "Ling gave me sssome miracle drugs, I can't feel a thing!"

"I guess they make you loopy too," she chuckled, picturing an intoxicated Charles.

"No looops," he replied, giggling slightly, "Just warm fuzz."

"Of course," Sam laughed, "My bad."

"You are not bad," Charles' response was immediate, his tone attempting to affect that of a scolding one.

"That's not what I mea-"

"Sam'ra Young'n," he was clearly trying to be serious, so Sam stifled her giggle, "You are the emb...embod...hmmm."

"Embodiment?" supplied Sam, “You said so earlier.”

"Yes!" Charles exclaimed, "Embod'men of shunsine...sunshine...only...only good'ns...goodness..."

His voice trailed off until there was silence, aside from the muted beeping of his monitor.

"Charles?" she asked into the phone.

There was no response and she was starting to grow worried, until she heard some scuffling and Ling's voice came through the phone.

"Hi, this is Charles' nurse, Ling, I'm afraid he's fallen asleep."

Sam laughed, "Ah thanks, Ling.  It's Sam, from earlier."

"Oh good," chuckled Ling, "Hi Sam.  I gave him some pretty hefty painkillers, he's been mostly sleeping since you left."

"...He was hiding how much it hurt, wasn't he?" she sighed.

"He was," affirmed Ling, "But don't worry, I told him off for doing it."

"Good," nodded Sam, "He's okay though?"

"He's doing very well," replied Ling reassuringly, "He'll likely sleep until you're here in the morning."

"Okay," said Sam softly, "He probably needs the rest.  Will I see you in the morning?"

"I'm pulling a double, so yes I'll be here."

"...How do you like your coffee?" asked Sam.

"Oh you don't need-"

"It's the least I can do," she replied warmly.

"I guess if I can't dissuade you," teased Ling, "I'm pretty partial to sweet lattes."

"Noted," said Sam, "I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Yes, have a good night, Sam!" he replied cheerily.

"You too, Ling!"

Once the call ended, Sam wrote up a quick text and sent it for Charles to see in the event he woke up with a clear head, 'I can't help wondering if this is what you sound like drunk :p I hope you get some rest, and if you hide your pain from me like that again, I'll tell your mom....I love you, Jones.'

----

The next morning, Sam walked into the hospital carrying a paper bag containing some of Dee's baked goods, and a tray of three caffeinated beverages.  She wasn't sure what Charles would be able to have, but figured Ling would give her the yes or no.  She could feel a smile starting to spread across her face as she drew closer to Charles' room, openly grinning when she nudged the door with her hip.

"So you're going to tattle on me, is that right?" Charles asked the minute she entered.

"I see you got my text," she laughed, setting her items on his bedside tray, and placing the bag with his laptop on the floor.

She took his glasses out and handed them to him, receiving a grateful smile as he donned them.

"I thought that was you," came Ling's voice as he walked in.

"Good morning," Sam smiled, handing him one of the cups she'd brought, "A caramel latte, it's one of my favourites."

Ling took a sip and smiled at her appreciatively, "It's definitely a good choice, thank you."

"No problem," replied Sam, "Is Charles able to have coffee? Or baked goods?"

"Coffee should be fine," nodded Ling, "He can have food as tolerated, just as long as he doesn’t get nauseous," he turned to the blond, "But I’d recommend starting with small bites."

"Excellent, thanks Ling," Sam beamed, handing Charles the third paper cup, along with a blueberry scone.

The Welshman took a long slow draught of the coffee, savouring it before swallowing, "Oh sweet ambrosia," he groaned.

"Someone's dramatic this morning," teased Sam.

"You do recall what the coffee here tastes like?" Charles arched an eyebrow in her direction.

"He's right," agreed Ling, taking another sip of his latte, "It's an abomination."

All three laughed, and Ling made to leave, "I'll be back in an hour for a vitals check, you can get me sooner with the call button.  And Charles?"

"Yes?" 

"If you are feeling pain, tell me.  Or tell Sam and she'll ring for me.  Don't hide it again," Ling had a stern finger pointed in the blond's direction.

"Yes sir," Charles saluted.

The second Ling was out the door, Sam leaned forward and kissed Charles soundly on the lips.

"What was that for?" he asked, hand resting on the back of her neck.

"I missed you," she shrugged, then a wicked grin spread across her face, "Are you feeling 'peachy' this morning?"

"...I sounded ridiculous, didn't I?"

"Something about miracle drugs," teased Sam, "And 'warm fuzz'."

"That's right, laugh it up," he smirked.

"It's only fair," she stuck her tongue out at him, "Me being the 'Embod'men of shunsine' and all."

Charles groaned and drew his hand over his face, peeking out at her from between his fingers, "What's the likelihood you'll forget about that?"

"Not a chance," she grinned.

"I figured as much," he sighed, reaching out to clasp her fingers with his, "Though I do owe you a response."

"About what?" she asked, brow furrowed.

"I love you too," his lips brushed her knuckles.

Sam marvelled at how easily he said it now, wondering if he felt just as relaxed as he seemed.

"It's like a weight's been lifted from me," he commented, absent-mindedly staring at the top of her hand as his thumb rubbed circles over it, "Not completely, but, I'm lighter nonetheless," Sam briefly wondered if he'd read her mind as his gaze met hers, "I can tell you how I feel without my mind immediately berating me for it.  It's...novel, really."

"I'm glad," she smiled shyly at him.

He kissed her, softly and sweetly, then firmly, leaving no doubt as to how he felt.  He gave her hand a squeeze before reaching again for his coffee.

"Is it okay black?" she asked, "I wasn't sure if dairy would go well with your meds."

"It is perfection," he replied, then rose an eyebrow at her, gaze roving over her body as he said, "Speaking of black and perfection, lace comes to mind...Did you think about my request?"

"Pfft," she scoffed, rolling her eyes, "I'm sorry, Charles, but there was no way I was going to wear a full lace bodysuit all day."

Then, on noting his - likely contrived - crestfallen look, she added, "But…"

Sam glanced toward the door and stood, pulling the waistband of her slacks down to reveal a glimpse of white lace.  He reached out and traced his fingers over the light material, memories of moments involving those very panties rushing into his mind.  Sam grasped his fingers and slowly pulled them up toward her chest.

"There are people around, Samara," his tone was one of warning, but he made no move to stop her.

"We're in a private room." she murmured, "And I seem to recall you once having no objections to using only a tablecloth for cover."

"Yes I suppose discretion was out the window that day," he replied, voice low.

"You were so obvious," she teased, using her hand to squeeze his fingers around her breast.

"Those who flaunt beneath glass tables shouldn't throw stones," his gaze was heated, and Sam swallowed hard.

"You're right," she shrugged, dropping his hand and sitting back down.

"You are flirting with fire, Bunty," he growled, "I have half a mind to throw you over my shoulder and carry you to the nearest supply closet."

"Well when you've recovered more, I might just take you up on that," she replied.

"Then a pin in it for now," he agreed, "Especially as it could be a while before I'm able to even lift you, let alone toss you over my shoulder."

"It'll come back," she said softly, taking his hand in both of hers.

"I know," he clenched his fist, lightly hitting the mattress with it, "I just wish it weren't so far away."

"All things in time," Sam smiled, kissing the inside of his wrist.

Their tender moment was interrupted by the sound of Charles' phone ringing.

"Oh fy nuw," he breathed, seeing who it was.

"Everything alright?" asked Sam.

"It's my mother," he winced as he picked up his phone, accepting the call, "Hello Ma-"

"Charles Rhys Jones!" Sam heard the older woman's voice blaring through the phone speaker, "Are you completely daft? I could have sworn I'd raised you better."

"Mam," Charles tried a placating tone, eyes glancing to Sam, "I had to do it, the truck was going to hit-"

"I'm aware, you're a big hero and I'm proud," she continued, voice still raised, "I'm talking about how you went and fell in love with someone and didn't even think to tell me about her."

"I, uh..." Charles was flabbergasted, Sam trying to stifle a smirk at his expression.

"Is she there?" 

"Well yes, but-"

"Then put her on the phone, for Crist sake, boy," his mother demanded.

Charles looked at Sam with wide eyes, not stopping her from plucking the phone from his hand.

"H-hi Mrs. Jones," she spoke into the phone.

"Hello again, dear," the immediate switch in the older woman’s tone had Sam thrown for a second, "I don't know how you put up with the Cachwr that is my son." 

"Iesu mawr," grumbled Charles, burying his face into his hand, then made a connection, "Wait, again?"

"Well, he is a great baker," Sam laughed, smirking at the Welshman.

"He gets that from me," Charles’ mother commented proudly, "Oh I meant to ask last night, are you named after your father?"

"N-no," Sam tried not to laugh, "My full name is Samara."

"Beautiful," commented the Jones Matriarch, "Must be after your mother then."

"Her name is Samantha," a smile tugged at Sam's lips.

"...Both your parents' names are also Sam? Next you'll tell me your sister's name is Sam too."

"My brother's actually, yes," Sam replied, "But we call him Jay Jay."

"Arglwydd da (*Good lord)," they heard a laugh erupt from the phone’s speaker, "Well at least it won't be hard to remember.  So tell me, m’love, what is it about you that's captured my kit's heart?"

Sam faltered for a moment, not entirely sure herself.  Charles reached over and gently took the phone from her, putting it on speaker as he gave the answer.

"Samara is unwaveringly kind and strong, even if she doesn't realize it," Charles spoke with a conviction that was palpable, "She holds honesty as highly as I do, and will go out of her way to help others, even when she owes them nothing.  She's a bright light, Mam, just like that lighthouse near Llandudno, cutting through even the murkiest of nights.  But above all..." he paused for a moment, ensuring Sam could see in his eyes what he meant, "She's shown me that even after everything with Gwen, I'm still capable of feeling love and not hating myself for it.  And even though I made it incredibly difficult for her," they both heard a tinny scoff, "She still stayed, still told me I was special to her, still cared.  And for that...she has all of me." 

Sam knew she had tears trickling over her cheeks, but paid them no mind as she leaned forward to kiss Charles before pressing her forehead to his.

"Well then," the older woman’s voice had a thickness to it that suggested she'd been tearing up, "Welcome to the family, Sam."

Sam laughed, Charles wiping her tears away with his thumb, "Thank you, Mrs. Jones."

"I told you last night, dear, call me Lizzy."

"What exactly happened 'last night'," asked Charles apprehensively.

"I just called your darpar wraig (*future wife) to thank her for taking care of you."

"Mother!" hissed Charles as his cheeks flushed, immensely glad in that moment that Sam didn't speak Welsh.

The brunette shot him a confused look while Lizzy continued, "Hey now, a woman can dream."

"Well if that's all," Charles spoke embarrassedly.

"Now hang on, Charlie, I have another question for Sam."

"Pam fi (*why me)?" muttered Charles.

"Yes?" Sam asked, smiling at the Welshman.

"I'm sure you know that my boy was hurt in the past, and while I don't believe for one second that you are anything like that neidr (*snake), I wouldn't be doing my duty as his mother if I didn't ask.  What is it you see in my mab annwyl (*dear son)?"

Charles was oddly touched, his eyes meeting Sam's, curious of her answer.

Sam cleared her throat then spoke, her voice starting timid, but growing stronger as she talked, "Charles has always seen me for who I am, regardless of how others treated me.  He's helped me see myself in the same light, and figure out who I wanted to be.  He helped me to love myself which in turn, helped me to love others, giving me the courage to do things I never thought I would before.  And he did it all without expecting anything in return.  He thinks he's this frozen-hearted lone wolf, but I saw the warmth, the kindness, the loyalty to others, even if he still has trouble seeing it himself," Sam squeezed his fingers with her own, seeing the flicker of remembrance in his eyes as she said, "He makes me strong, makes me certain, and he makes me believe, in myself, in love, but most of all in him."

A loud sniff emanated from Charles' phone, suddenly making him aware of how hard it was to swallow.

"Mam?" he cleared his throat, "Are you alright?"

"Oh don't mind me blubbering away," they distinctly heard the sound of her blowing her nose, "So those are your wedding vows, eh?"

"...Pardon?" blurted Sam, startled.

"Bye Mam!" declared Charles panickedly, "We'll see you tomorrow!"

"But-"

He hung up before his mother could say anything else ridiculous, nervous gaze meeting Sam's.

"You just hung up on your mom," she couldn't stop a giddy grin from spreading across her face.

"I'll hear about it tomorrow, I'm quite sure," he chuckled.

"Somewhere there's a big potato with your name on it," Sam laughed.

Charles was relieved that Sam didn't press on the 'wedding vow' comment from his mother.  He'd already been plagued by imaginative wanderings of the same nature, but he wasn't ready to process them...not yet.  For her part, Sam knew Charles would talk of such things when he felt the time was right, she wouldn't push him.  The two of them talked about other topics for a while, including what Charles' recovery would look like.  Together, they went over the informational booklet he’d been given detailing his anticipated rehabilitation regimen with physical and occupational therapy.  Neither of them had realized how much time had gone by, until Ling walked in with two lunch trays.  He greeted them and placed one on Charles' side table, handing the other to Sam.

"Thanks, Ling, but i-isn't this for patients?" she asked, taking the tray.

"Your dad has donated enough money to this hospital to own an entire wing," Ling laughed, "A lunch tray is the least we can do."
Sam thanked him, unwrapping the meals while Ling checked Charles' vitals.

"I'll be back again in another hour," he smiled before leaving.

"This actually looks tastier than I thought it would be," commented Sam as she sat beside Charles with her tray of caesar salad, a chicken sandwich, and a juice box.

"I will say," said Charles as he took a bite of his tuna sandwich, "It's certainly not the worst thing I've eaten."

"It's not exactly homemade fish and chips," grinned Sam.

"Indeed," Charles teased.

Soon their lunches were eaten and they were onto dessert, Charles offering some of his butterscotch pudding while Sam shared her brownie.  The blond took a bite of the chocolate confection, chewing thoughtfully.

"It's no Gateau D'Amour...but it will suffice," he winked at her.

"You're right," she agreed, taking a bite herself, "It's missing some strawberries."

They both laughed, teasing each other until the dessert was gone.  Then, as Sam was dealing with the garbage, a knock sounded on the door.  She looked perplexedly at Charles as she moved to open it, instantly recognizing the man on the other side and promptly slamming the door in his face.

"Who was it?" asked Charles amusedly.

"Griffiths," she growled, "How did he know where to find you?"

"Ah," Charles' tone was neutral, "I asked him to come."

"Oh," said Sam, a look of surprise on her face, "Do you want me to let him in?"

"I don't particularly want to see him at all," replied the Welshman, "But I do think you should."

Sam nodded and opened the door again, scowling at Griffths as he walked in.

"The nurse said you got hit by a truck?" asked the unwelcome visitor, a look of concern on his face.

"That is neither here nor there," replied Charles stiffly, "I simply wished to tell you to go back to Wales. You will not find what you're looking for here."

Griffths' gaze drifted to Sam, as though asking for her help, but he received only stony silence.  Feeling that she'd gotten her point across, Sam started walking for the door, "I'll give you two some privacy."

"No, actually," Charles' voice called out to her, "I would prefer that you stay."

Sam froze where she was, pivoting to see Charles' eyes on her, offering him an encouraging smile.  The blond then faced his ex best friend, leveling him with a cool gaze, "You will listen and nothing more."

Griffiths began to protest, but shut his mouth quickly in response to the icy arch of Charles' brow.

He stood awkwardly while Charles addressed him with an indifferent tone, "I have long since left the part of my life that you represent, behind me.  I will admit, I dwelled on it more often than I should have, a point made clear to me by the woman currently glaring daggers into your back."

Sam smirked and Griffiths swallowed harshly.

"I have moved on," Charles continued definitively, smiling briefly at Sam, "I've found someone in whom I have the utmost faith, and I couldn't care less about what you or my ex-wife do.  From here forward, I will only look to the future," he looked again to Sam, "...our future."

"Gwen won't be too happy," interjected Griffiths, "The whole reason-"

"She will have to come to terms with it," Charles cut him off firmly, "She brought this on herself, it's about time she took some responsibility."

Griffiths' lips twisted into a frown, but he remained silent.

"She is your problem now," stated the blond, brushing an imaginary speck of dust from his hospital gown, "In fact, Samara, do you still have my ring?"

"Yeah," Sam uncrossed her arms and walked over to dig it out of her bag.

She handed it to Charles and made to move away, but halted when she felt a large warm hand at the small of her back.

"Here, Griffiths," said Charles, tossing the ring to the other man.

Griffiths fumbled the small item before finally clasping it between his fingers, giving both it and Charles a quizzical look.

"I no longer need it," stated Charles, palm pressing against Sam's back, "You can give it to Gwen if you wish.  Or better yet, sell it for wedding funds.  I remember quite well how high maintenance she can be."

"But-"

"We have reached the end of our conversation," Charles plowed over any response Griffiths had intended to voice, "And you have overstayed your welcome."

Griffiths tried to get a word in one last time, but Charles was ready, "Go home, Griffiths.  Be the man Gwen wants you to be."

Just then, Ling walked in, as though he'd been listening outside (which he had).

"Alright, sir," he gently herded Griffiths out of the room, "Visiting hours are over."

"But what about her?" he asked, pointing to Sam, who shot him a glare in return.

"She's family," stated Ling, ushering him out the door.

"Any way we can get Ling a raise?" asked Charles, pulling Sam close.

"My dad can probably make it happen," Sam laughed softly.

She ran her fingers through his hair and leaned into him, feeling him bury his face into the crook of her neck.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

He shifted so he could press his lips to hers, "I am now."

"You're sure?" she asked, lightly kissing his nose.

"So long as you're here, Bunty."

Sam felt a warmth in her chest, "I'm not going anywhere, my prince."

"Why do you call me that?" he asked curiously.

"Because you're princely," she shrugged, "Do you not like it?"

"Quite the contrary," his eyes dragged over her form in a way that told Sam where his mind had gone.

"Would you rather I call you 'bae'?" she teased, laughing at the look of disdain he shot her.

"Absolutely not."

"What would you call me, other than Bunty?" she asked sincerely.

He barely hesitated before answering in a deep voice, "Mine."

Sam blushed, finding her body reacting to both the word and how he'd said it.  Luckily, Charles' mind suddenly changed tracks.

"I meant to ask, how is my little Welsh canine handling you being away from home so much?"

Sam placed a hand over her heart, completely endeared that he was thinking about Bowser, "He's been having the time of his life with Ms. Whipple, she adores him."

"That's good," replied Charles.

Sam didn't miss the wistful expression on his face, and couldn't help adding, "Maybe I'll see about sneaking him in tomorrow.  I mean, my dad 'practically owns' a hospital wing."

Just seeing Charles light up at the suggestion was enough to convince Sam to actually do it; or at least try.

"It's going to be a long few weeks," sighed Charles, finger tapping on the bed sheet.

"I'll visit every day," said Sam reassuringly, smoothing a hand over his hair, "And everyone has said they’ll be dropping by to check on you.  With all that activity, you'll be home before you know it."

"Home," whispered Charles, turning to look at Sam with an odd expression on his face.

"What?" she asked softly.

"You are home to me," he replied quietly.

"You're my home too," she smiled, drawing him into a hug.

Epilogue

Four months later

Sam smiled as she put the finishing touches on the omelettes she was making for her and Charles.  The Welshman had gotten up early to go to his last PT appointment, and Sam had stayed behind, wanting to have brunch ready on his return.  She moved around the kitchen as if it were hers; which it now was.  She added a few more spices to the eggs and thought over how it had only taken a few weeks of her being constantly over, for Charles to hand her a key.  She'd refused at first, but it hadn't taken much convincing to change her mind.  She and Bowser had moved in maybe two days after that discussion. 

Once the food was prepared, she set the stove to 'warm' and walked over to stand by the window, mind wandering over what had happened in the past few months.  Charles' recovery had actually gone by relatively quickly, and she thought that might be largely due to all of their friends.  Between hospital visits, or dropping by Charles' apartment, every person they knew had come by.  Everyone from work, their family members, all of Sam's Guild members, including Olivia, who claimed she wanted to meet the "Just Right Twat" in person.  Even Diana and Eva had visited, both maintaining their outward stoic appearances while offering gruff well wishes.  The latter of whom had been ensuring to keep them informed of the progress regarding Darin's trial date. 

One of her fondest memories had been when Lizzy had first arrived at the hospital.  Sam smiled as she recalled how the older woman had scolded Charles loudly, then pulled him into a fierce hug, then yelled at him some more.  Then Sam had been the one on the receiving end of a warm embrace.  The Jones Matriarch had stayed - having been put up at a hotel by Samuel - all the way through Charles' time in hospital, and a further week into his recovery after he'd returned home.  Sam remembered Lizzy's words the day she'd announced she was returning to Wales.

"I know an excellent caretaker when I see one," Lizzy winked at her, "You'll be able to do just as much as I could, and even more.  I trust you, Sam."

Sam hoped she had lived up to those words, having done anything Charles asked - she knew he'd held back on her behalf - and even anticipating some things she figured he would need.  It had been a long recovery for him, and it hadn't been particularly easy either.  Sam traced some water stains on the window as she recalled a time when Charles had been incredibly sore.  He'd felt beaten down by his injury and had stubbornly refused to walk that day.  Sam had called in a friend to help her inspire the Welshman to get up.

"Thank you so much Manuel," Sam said excitedly as she greeted her friend at the hospital entrance, "I think this is really going to help."

"Anything for you and Charles," grinned Manuel, "Cyra sends her well wishes too.  She'll drop in later this week."

"Oh that's nice of her," smiled Sam.

The two had made their way to Charles' room and then, at Sam's insistence, they'd ensconced him in the bathroom while setting up the surprise in the suite.

"Can I come out yet?" Charles asked through the door twenty minutes later, exasperated.

"Just a few more minutes!" Sam called back.

Finally, their plan had been set and Sam slipped into the bathroom with Charles.

"Samara, what-?" he'd started to protest, but she cut him off with a "Shh!"

Manuel's voice suddenly came through on the radio in Sam's hand, and she was elated to see a grin break out on Charles' face.

"Your hospital room has entered a Twilight Sector," Manuel said spookily, "And you have one hour to figure out how to escape it, or you will be doomed to wander the in-between forever."

"Is this…?" Charles asked Sam, eyes shining.

"Yup," she nodded.

He kissed her, hard, then bounded excitedly into the suite, immediately searching for clues.  Sam had been unsure if her plan would work, but her worries were assuaged on seeing Charles' enthusiasm the instant he realized she'd turned his hospital suite into an escape room.  Plus, it had gotten him up and moving around, which was exactly what he'd needed.  When he'd solved the room (with two minutes to spare), Sam had insisted on taking a picture of the two of them, and another with Manuel.  She then held their phones up side by side, showing Charles a comparison with their first foray into escape rooms together. 

“And these will be the first of many,” smiled Charles as he kissed the top of her head.

Sam had made a mental note to perhaps revisit making a custom escape room for Charles' birthday, or Christmas, hell even an anniversary.  The look of pure joy on his face when he'd caught on was something Sam would treasure forever.  It was one of those rare times she'd seen him express such unencumbered joy, though such occurrences had been more and more frequent of late.  She watched through the window as a curious pigeon picked up a small twig in its mouth and waved it around.  She smiled softly to herself when it reminded her of another time when she'd been treated to some of his genuine laughter. 

"Are you alright, Charles?" Sam asked as she sat on the edge of his hospital bed, gripping his chin and turning his head so he was facing her.

"I'm just...bored, I suppose," he sighed, "I know I'll be out of here in a few days, but that's not today.  I've read several books, caught up on the work your father is allowing me to do, explored every inch of this ward, and that of where I'm allowed to go outside...I miss my routine I think.  Going to work, escape rooms, the fencing club..."

Sam tapped her chin thoughtfully as she thought to herself.  She quickly stood up and strode to the door, calling, "I'll be right back," over her shoulder to a confused Charles.  Ling was on duty that day, and was more than happy to help her locate some materials that would put her idea into action.  After gathering those, she also placed a phone call and was immensely happy with the result of the conversation.  She quickly assembled what she needed in the kitchenette, before heading back to Charles' room.  She was careful not to hit anything with the two makeshift cardboard tubes she was carrying, constructed from empty boxes and a plethora of masking tape.  She soon found herself excited by the look of curiosity on Charles' face, as opposed to the ennui she normally saw there.

"What on Earth..." he trailed off, obviously trying to figure out what she was doing.

"Get up," stated Sam, holding her hand out to him.

"If you insist," he shrugged, grasping her fingers and gingerly stepping to his feet.

"I do," she grinned, handing him one of the tubes, makeshift handle first.

"Are we playing pretend?" he teased, eyeing the object as he took it.

"There is nothing pretend about how I'm going to kick your ass," she smiled deviously, taking up a starting position, "Pret?"

Charles suddenly realized what she'd done, and he let out a robust laugh, a cheery twinkle in his eyes as he did his best to mirror her position, "Allez!"

It wasn't quite like the real deal, obviously they had to take it a bit easy with Charles' healing injuries and overall weakness from being in bed so much.  Nonetheless, Sam saw how much Charles was into it, how he finally had more of a spark of himself back.  She let them go for an hour then made him stop to take a break, noting his flushed cheeks and laboured breathing.

"Ok, time for a rest," she said softly, placing their 'swords' on one of the empty chairs and guiding Charles to bed.

"Would that my body held more strength," he lamented overdramatically, sighing for effect.

"You'll get there," she smiled.

"It still didn't stop me from besting you," he smirked.

"Keep dreaming, Jones," she laughed.

"I would certainly be up for a rematch or two later, if you'd be interested," he tried to sound nonchalant, but Sam could hear the thinly veiled eagerness.

"Absolutely," she grinned, "And in the meantime, I called the fencing club and presented them with a proposition…Dom said he'd be willing to set up a virtual coaching program through Zume, if you're interested."

Sam kept her expression guarded, unsure of how Charles would react...she needn't have worried.

"Yes, undoubtedly yes," he replied enthusiastically.

"It could even extend to beyond your recovery, and he was pretty excited about opening up the business to clients outside-"

Charles cut her off with a kiss, pouring his gratitude into it.

"What was that for?" she asked quietly when they broke apart.

"For simply being you."

Sam propped her arm against the window, thinking on how much more of Charles' unbridled exuberance she'd been witness to since he'd been discharged back to his apartment.  From the very first day, he'd seemed lighter, more buoyed.

"Finally home," sighed Charles happily as he followed Sam into his apartment.

"Y'know," she said as she placed their bags on the floor, "Those stairs are going to be a pain for you."

"It'll just take practice," he replied dismissively as he limped stiffly into his living room, leaning heavily on his one crutch (he'd refused to use both).

"Still," Sam continued hesitantly as she followed him, "I had a bed set up for you in here.  I really think you should mostly stay on this floor until you've healed a bit more."

Charles stepped cautiously over to the bed, placing a hand on the bedspread.

"It's big enough for two," he smirked, looking over his shoulder at her.

"It is," she nodded, then added shyly, "Provided you want me to stay."

He made his way carefully back to her, lifting her chin so their eyes met, "What I want is for you never to leave."

"I told you," she murmured, "I'm not going anywhere."

What started as a tender, loving kiss rapidly became something heated.  When Charles' hands began to wander, Sam interrupted their path by interlocking their fingers.  He pouted as she brought their joined hands up to rest between them.

"The doctor said you have to wait at least a week for something like that," she admonished him lightly, unable to completely stifle a smile.

"But what about-"

"She said, 'nothing strenuous'," Sam's tone was firm.

"This week is going to feel like an eternity," he groaned.

He wasn't wrong.  Sam remembered how difficult it had been for both of them to keep themselves, and each other, in check.  Although, an entire week of unsatisfied sexual tension had made for some pretty quick work later on.  She tilted her head upward so as to watch the clouds drift by.  Her thighs clenched together as she thought back to the day they'd returned from the physical therapist, having received the go-ahead.

They'd barely made it through the door before their hands were on one another, frantically ripping off clothes - Sam taking her time with his pants, so as not to jar his leg.  He led her to the bed, moving to sit on it, and halted on finding her finger in his face.

"Remember, no thrusting," her tone was one of warning.

"It won't be needed for what I have in mind," his voice washed over her as he pulled her close.

He eased himself to lie on his back across the bed, pulling Sam up so she was straddling his stomach.  He attempted to guide her up to his face, but pouted when she swung her leg off of him instead.

"I have a better idea," her eyes twinkled mischievously.

She shifted so that she was straddling his face in reverse, giving her full access to his body.

"I like this idea," he murmured, breath ghosting over her centre, causing her to tremble.

She leaned forward, ensuring to plant her hands on either side of his hips so that none of her weight fell on him.  She paused momentarily when his fingers lightly traced over her damp folds, then bent her head to completely engulf his tip within her mouth.

"Iesu mawr!" he swore against her flesh, "I forgot how good your mouth feels."

"Then allow me to jog your memory," she teased, voice low.

She again took him between her lips and slid down as far as she could go, swallowing around him.  His groan thrummed through her, his lips and tongue having occupied themselves with her clit.  She pushed herself back up his shaft using her arms, dragging her tongue along him in the way she knew he loved.  When his own tongue plunged inside of her, she already had him at the back of her throat, the vibrations from her moan heightening the sensation for him.  She picked up her speed, feeling him reach around her hip to stroke the small hub of nerves he'd come to know so well, in time to the thrusts of his tongue. 

She could feel the hot coiling of impending relief, but was determined to bring him to release first.  Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked hard along his length, almost immediately taking him in and swallowing again.  All it took was one repeat, and a whispered, "Samara," was all that heralded his climax, Sam able to feel the warmth of it on the back of her throat.  The gutterally groaned version of her name was spoken so deeply into her that in combination with his skilled fingers and tongue - and knowing he'd gone first - she followed him immediately over the edge.

"Charles!" she gasped, arms straining in her effort not to collapse on him.

 They each caught their breath for a moment before Sam carefully dismounted from his face, turning to see him wiping the back of his hand across his mouth.

"I apologize, that was embarrassingly quick," he flushed.

"That's what weeks of build-up will do," she teased, stroking his hair back from his face.

He held out his arm and she curled up next to him, hand lightly caressing his chest.

"Once I've recharged, there will be a repeat performance," he said with certainty.

"You shouldn't push yourself," she tapped his nose.

"I promise, I'm not," he turned to press a kiss to her temple, "I just find that I'm nowhere near sated of you."

"That's always your complaint," she giggled.

"And it always will be," he smiled.

----

Charles was euphoric as he left the hospital, after stopping by the gift shop to buy a bouquet of flowers.  He'd just been discharged from the physical therapy department, having been completely cleared for all of his regular daily activities.  He'd honestly never felt more strong nor capable in his life, having mixed in some strength training with his PT at his therapist’s suggestion.  He also never thought he'd be so ecstatic to drive, but since he'd been granted permission several weeks prior, every trip in his car was met with appreciation.  He'd even mostly returned to his baseline function, save for occasional stiffness with rainy or cold weather, something which had Sam calling him, "Crotchety Old Goat," in place of his usual moniker. 

It had been a long recovery for him, and not at all an easy one.  Though he knew if Sam hadn't been so utterly amazing, he might not have gotten through it at all.  The days he hadn't felt like walking, she'd come up with new ways to get him out of bed.  On days where his motivation had tanked, she'd devised creative solutions that never failed to pique his interest.  While he still shied away from leaning too heavily into the future, he knew without a doubt he wanted it to involve Sam.  For as long as she would have him, for better or worse...but he was getting ahead of himself again.  He waved a cheery goodbye to the security guard by the building's entrance, having come to know the man by name, and walked briskly to his car. 

Even simple things like maintaining a brisk pace he now held a deeper respect for, having not been able to for so long.  He got into his car and started the drive back to his apartment, where he knew Sam was waiting for him.  It had been incredibly hard to leave her earlier that morning, especially with how stunning she'd looked asleep on his pillow, drool and all.  It took more than a large amount of willpower to get up and leave for his final appointment, though knowing it was the last one had given him the boost he'd needed.  As he passed through the familiar intersections, Charles thought about how much had changed in the past few months, including one particularly large development he was still marvelling over.  He cast his mind back to that moment, still unconvinced it had actually happened.

Charles was finally back at work in the office, though was starting with half days and mostly sat at his desk.  It wasn't quite how it used to be, but he was grateful for the change in scenery, finally feeling more useful now that he could handle things in-office.  He was just drafting an email to a prospective large client, when he heard the sound of knuckles rapping on the doorframe.  He looked up to see Samuel standing in his doorway, an odd look on the older man's face.

"Good morning, sir," Charles smiled, "What can I do for you?"

"Glad to see you're settled in, Charles," Samuel smiled, "I just wanted to ask you to stop into my office before you leave today."

"Alright," nodded Charles curiously, "Anything I should prepare?"

"Nope," Samuel popped the 'p', reminding Charles very much of Sam in that moment, "Just something we need to discuss."

"Okay," Charles had replied uncertainly, his nerves beginning to make themselves known as Samuel walked away and the day wore on.

Finally, his half day was over, and Charles found himself standing outside his employer's office, knocking on the door.

"Come in!" Samuel called out.

Charles entered the room, surprised to see that Umed was in there as well, his face giving nothing away.

"Have a seat, Charles," Samuel gestured to the empty armchair beside Umed.

The Welshman gingerly sat down, leaning his crutch against the nearby wall.

"How is your recovery going?" Charles was a bit thrown by the question, but smiled and said, "Better than expected I think, though still horrendously slow."

"It can take a bit," agreed Samuel, "But I'm glad to see you on your feet."

"Th-thank you, sir," Charles' heart was beating a hair faster than he would have liked.

"I'm sure you're wondering why you're here," Samuel spoke with the dramatic grandiosity he so loved, having noticed the blond's apprehension.

Charles was certain he saw Umed rolling his eyes in his peripheral vision, and answered, "Well, I am your employee, I'm bound to be in here sooner or later."

"Cut the jib," Samuel stated baldly, "I can practically see your palms sweating from over here.

"Yes, sir," nodded Charles.

"And stop with the ‘sir’, Charles," sighed Samuel, "I told you I won't murder you for dating my daughter...yet...which puts us on a first name basis."

"Yes, Samuel," Charles corrected himself.

"So let's get down to brass tacks then," Samuel declared, standing up from his chair, Umed unable to stop himself from facepalming.

"My trip to Hawaii with my dear beloved Queen was enlightening," the Young Patriarch began, pacing as he talked, "And parting from her again was almost more than I could bear."

"Sorry for that," commented Charles.

"Shut it, Jones," quipped Samuel.

"I thought we were on a first name basis," the blond arched an eyebrow at him.

"Shut it, Charles," Samuel amended, causing the Welshman to smirk and Umed to chuckle, "In any case, the whole ordeal made me realize that I would much rather spend time with my wife than running the company’s day-to-day operations quite so closely."

The older man's tone had softened as he continued, and Charles couldn't help digging his fingers into the chair arms as he thought he saw where this was going.

"I'm well aware that Samara doesn't want to be the next CEO," Samuel sent a meaningful glance in Charles' direction.

"You knew?" he asked, stunned.

"I'm ridiculous and overbearing, Charles, not blind."

"At least you can admit it," interjected Umed.

"So, what are you saying, exactly?" Charles asked carefully, though he was pretty sure he knew.

Samuel came to stand in front of his desk, leaning against it as he said sincerely, "I would like to appoint you as Young Technologies' next CEO."

Charles' jaw dropped and Umed reached over to pat him on the back, "See?" joked the developer, "I told you he'd be speechless."

"I owe you five bucks," agreed Samuel, "He always has to get the last word in, I thought this would be no different."

"Are you certain, si-Samuel?" Charles looked at him wide-eyed.

"Completely," nodded the older man.

Charles pushed himself to stand, extending a hand out to his employer, "I'm not sure I can put into words how truly grateful I am for this."

"No need," Samuel shook the proffered hand firmly, "I've seen it through your work for years.  You've earned this, Charles, undeniably."

"Th-thank you, Samuel."

"There will be a transition period, of course," explained Samuel, "Wherein we'll go over everything you don't know; which is very little, if I'm being honest.  And then I will switch to a consultant position, and you will officially take over from me."

Charles suddenly had a thought, "Who will take over for me?"

"Umed has agreed to fill your position," Samuel grinned, "I've already begun training him, though I will now pass that duty on to you."

"So you knew and didn't tell me?" Charles asked his friend incredulously.

"Yup," agreed the raven-haired man, "I wanted to see the look on your face."

"Typical," Charles scoffed lightheartedly.

Samuel pulled an easily recognizable bottle from behind his desk, along with three glass tumblers.

"That brandy looks awfully familiar," Charles raised an eyebrow at him.

"You weren't using it," shrugged the older man as he poured the drinks.

They all cried, “Cheers!” and clinked their glasses together in celebration of the oncoming changes.

Charles smiled at the memory, even more so at what had come afterward.

Charles burst into his apartment, calling out, "Samara?" as he tossed his keys onto a nearby table and locked the door.  He'd immediately ordered a Ryde home from work, excited to tell Sam about the news.  She'd taken the day off to unpack some of her clothes, and had told Charles off when he'd suggested he stay home too.  He peered into the living room and kitchen, smiling when he noticed she'd put up some of her things around the apartment.  He was about to call out for her again when his ears picked up the faint sound of music playing.  He toed off his shoes and made his way over to the bottom of the stairs, deducing that the music was likely playing from their bedroom on the top floor. 

Thus far, he'd only attempted going to the second floor, but he was feeling good today, and he wanted so badly to see Sam.  He leaned his crutch against the wall and squared his shoulders, beginning the ascent to the third floor.  He didn't have too much difficulty with the first flight of stairs, but as he mounted the second set, he could feel a throbbing in his thigh, knowing instantly that he'd overdone it.  He paused, panting as he counted the remaining 4 steps that would bring him to his goal.  Charles took a deep breath and pushed himself the rest of the way, hearing both the music and Sam’s voice grow louder on his approach. 

He finally made it to the top, smiling tiredly as he leaned against the wall, watching her hang her clothes in what was now their closet.  He also couldn't help noticing how high her pajama shorts rode, or the fact that she was without a bra.  All the while, Sam continued singing along to the song that was playing, completely oblivious to his presence.

"Well it's certainly no Apple Bottom Jeans," he commented loudly, chuckling when she let out a yelp of surprise.

"Charles!" she exclaimed, turning off the music before walking over to him, "Wait, what are you doing up here?! You know you're not supposed to exert yourself this much."

"I received some interesting news today and I needed to see you," he said simply.

"Well come and sit down at least," she scolded, leading him over to the bed.

He winced as he lowered himself to the mattress, preparing for the incoming barrage of admonishment.  But when none was forthcoming, he looked up to see a determined expression on Sam's face just before she pivoted and went into the bathroom.  He heard the sound of running water and a cloud of steam billowed into the bedroom.  He watched with a raised eyebrow as she made her way back to him, crouching on the floor between his legs. 

Without a word, she deftly undid his belt and, with a slight raise of his hips, tugged his slacks and boxers down and off.  She removed his socks as well before standing up, still silent.  He brought his arms around her waist as she unbuttoned his vest and shirt, sliding them over his shoulders.  She grasped his wrists and held his arms straight until the garments fluttered down his arms and onto the bed.  She helped him stand and led him to the bathroom, Charles smiling widely on seeing she'd prepared a soothingly-scented hot bath.

"Get in," she gestured, eyebrow arched at him.

"Will you be joining me?" he teased, easing himself into the steaming water.

"No, you Cachwr," Charles laughed at her word selection, "You're going to relax and let your leg rest, and I'm going to massage it the way the physical therapist described."

"How perfectly by the book, Bunty," Charles pouted as she turned to grab a towel, "Though I think I much prefer my treatment plan."

And with that, he swiftly grabbed her upper arms and pulled her into the bath with him.

"Charles!" she shrieked, splashing around slightly until she settled between his legs.

"Much better," he hummed, kissing her neck.

"Mmm-oh wait my phone!" she suddenly panicked.

"Is still on the bed where you left it," he said reassuringly against her shoulder.

"...You're impossible," she sighed, as he nipped at her skin, savouring the taste.

"Impossibly in love with you," he murmured, sliding his hands beneath her shirt and easing the drenched material over her head.

"Well...how am I supposed to say no to that?" she giggled, raising her hips so that he could slide her shorts over her rear.  

She pulled them the rest of the way off, tossing her wet clothing into the sink.  

"So what was this important news?" she asked curiously.

"It can wait," he rumbled, hand splaying across her lower abdomen and pulling her against him.

"But your l-leg," she tried to protest, though faltered when he rolled her nipple between his finger and thumb.  

"Is fine for now," he spoke soothingly, "I'll let you do whatever you need to after."

"After what?" she breathed.

He could feel her abdominal muscles tensing as he slid his hand lower, fingers seeking her core.

"After I make you finish , " he stroked across her clit to emphasize his last word, drawing a gasp from her.

"Y-you don't haaaaave to," she moaned when he switched to a more deliberate caress.

"I want to," he growled, lips against her neck, "I love feeling you come apart."

She merely groaned in response when he slowly slid two fingers into her, his other hand moving to continue massaging her sensitive pearl.  He flicked, teased, circled, pistoned, and curved his fingers, adapting his pace to match the panting of her breath.  She turned her head to kiss him soundly, he faltering slightly when she bit his lower lip.

"I love the w-way you make me feeeeel," she gasped against his mouth.

"Likewise," he replied, ramping up his movements, sensing she was close by the way her walls tightened around his fingers.

He felt her jaw slacken beneath his kiss when she reached her peak, smirking as a loud, "Charles, fuck!" spilled forth from her lips.  He coaxed further languid kisses out of her until she'd recovered enough to return them, still holding her firmly against him.  She pulled away slightly and rotated until her legs were hanging over the edge of the tub, several suds dripping to the floor.  He cradled her to him, enjoying the feel of her tongue on his and her body against his own.  He jolted when he suddenly felt her fingers wrap around his length, stroking him gently.

"Your turn," she smirked, her free hand threading into his hair and bringing his lips to hers.

He cupped the back of her neck and deepened the kiss, moaning into her when she gripped him tighter and increased her speed.  He inhaled sharply when he felt her thumb swipe over his tip at the top of each stroke, and shivered when she added a twist.

"You've grown fa-har too adept at this," he murmured, stumbling when she caressed the underside of his head.

"Good," she ran her tongue along his bottom lip as she doubled her efforts.

He kissed her hard, the vague query of whether lips could bruise completely swept asunder in the swell of his climax, able to feel only her as he groaned her name.  He slowly registered the feel of feather-light kisses brushing over his face.

"Perhaps I should overtax myself more often," he grinned roguishly.

She shot him a pointed look which quickly morphed into one of intrigue as she asked, "Will you tell me this ‘news’ now?"

He kissed her forehead and replied, “Your father is appointing me as Young Technologies’ next CEO.  Umed will take over my position, and you will continue running Indigineer.”

"I…but wait…he…what?" Sam’s lack of articulation drew an amused smile from Charles.

"He already knew you didn’t want the position, I must say I tend to forget how observant he can be."

"So he knew," she breathed, "And he wasn’t mad?"

"Not at all," Charles tapped her nose with his, "He does still wish to discuss things with you, but said he will support whatever it is you choose to pursue."

"I…wow…Charles that’s amazing!" she cupped his jaw tenderly, "You deserve this."

"I wouldn’t say-" he was cut off by a small finger pressed against his lips.

"I would.  You’ve worked so incredibly hard, and I can’t imagine a better person for the job.  You’ll do the company proud," she smiled warmly at him.

"If you say so,” he kissed her again.

" I do," she grinned, then said thoughtfully, "I wonder why he didn’t tell me."

"Likely because he’s well aware of how terrible you are at lying, especially to me," quipped Charles.

Sam laughed heartily in response, her wide beam of a smile reaching her eyes.  There was such guileless joy in her expression that Charles imprinted the moment into his mind before joining in with her.

The Welshman grinned as he pulled into his parking garage, quickly disembarking and locking it remotely while striding to the elevator.  He willed it to go faster as he ascended toward the penthouse, feeling the urgent need to see Sam.  He finally made it, opening the door and walking toward the kitchen, the beginning of his loud "Hello?" dying in his throat.  He stopped in his tracks, taking in the sight of Sam, his Sam, looking out the window wearing nothing but her underwear and one of his shirts.  Her hair now reached her upper back, and Charles wanted nothing more than to sweep it aside and bury himself in her scent. 

He suddenly felt he had to show her just how much she meant to him, how endlessly grateful he was for her taking care of him through these difficult months.  Words would never be enough to express his thanks, and he needed her to see it.  Sam turned and smiled as he stalked forward, taking no notice of the look of intent in his gaze, as hers was drawn to the bouquet in his hand.

"Are those for me?" she asked warmly, "They're beautiful."

She was confused when he simply dropped them on the table and continued on his path toward her, pinning her against the window.

"They don't hold a candle to you," he growled, capturing her lips with his.

He gripped her wrists with one hand, holding them against the glass pane above her as he licked his way down her neck.  His other hand trailed lower, sliding beneath her panties, his fingers honing in on her clit.

"You're already so wet, Bunty," he murmured, drawing a pattern of spirals, "Were you thinking of me?"

"Always," she breathed, leaning forward to nip his earlobe.

He smoothly slid two fingers inside of her, continuing to rub over her sensitive nub with his thumb.  She moaned, her back arching away from the window, bringing her chest closer to Charles.  He paused in his ministrations only to undo her top buttons, his hand soon returning to its previous occupation with vigor.  He nudged the shirt aside with his nose, satisfied that his scent clung to her while not completely masking her own.  He kissed along the curve of her breast before swirling his tongue around her nipple, eliciting a "Hah!" from Sam when his teeth came into play.  He knew precisely how to rile her up, and Sam felt the stirrings of her climax far more prematurely than she’d anticipated.  The work of his fingers grew rougher, palm rubbing over her firmly.

"Fuck," she whimpered, her hips bucking involuntarily.

"I love it when you come by my hand," he murmured against her skin.

The sound of his voice combined with a flick of his wrist, and Sam was doing just that, a loud, "Charles!" echoing back off the walls.  He continued stroking as she came down, only stopping when she started twitching away from his touch.  He released her wrists and she immediately flung her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss.

"How did it go today?" she asked.

"I've officially 'graduated'," he grinned.

"I knew you would," she smiled at him, one of her hands slowly making its way down his body.

"You played a large role in that," he murmured, kissing her forehead.

"I only did what I could," she shrugged, gaze drifting downward.

He gently gripped her chin and tilted her head so that their eyes met again, "And it was everything."

Sam blushed, pressing another kiss to his lips, feeling it was something she would never stop wanting to do.  Her fingers finally reached their destination, brushing over the prominent bulge in his pants.  She was startled, however, when Charles suddenly gripped her wrist and pulled it away from his groin.

"We’re still on you," his velvety baritone struck a chord within her, as it always did.

"But you already-"

"And it was merely a fraction of what you deserve from me," he spun her so that her palms were pressed to the window on either side of him, caging himself in with her arms, "And I intend to make you understand what it is you've done for me, Samara."

He cut off any forthcoming protests with a kiss, deftly undoing the rest of the buttons on the shirt she still wore.  His hands gently cupped her breasts, fingers rolling her nipples against his thumbs, smirking when it made her gasp into his mouth.  He nudged her legs apart before planting his feet on the floor, slowly sliding downward with his back pressed to the glass.  He trailed kisses along her skin as he went, sometimes flicking his tongue over her, sometimes adding a well-placed bite.  Once he was seated on the tile, he slid forward until his mouth was directly below her centre, blowing over it while smirking up at her. 

He could practically see that she was aching for him, both in how dark her eyes were, and the evidence trickling down her thighs.  Without any pretense, he went straight for her clit, flattened tongue swiping across it with intent.  A subsequent swirl followed by plunging it inside of her, and Sam's body dipped as her knees tried to give out on her.  They'd already been weakened, and she was certain this second onslaught would be more intense.  His hands were gripping her thighs and he could feel her muscles trembling with strain, his pride flaring that he was the cause.  He got up to his knees and tenderly guided one of her legs to hook over his shoulder.

"Hold on," he spoke softly.

Sam grabbed the nearby patio door handle, letting out a sound of surprise as Charles lifted her hips and brought her other leg over his opposite shoulder.  She was about to ask him if this was good for his injury, but all speech was rent from her when he gripped her rear and pulled her centre right to his mouth.  Sam tried to put some of her weight onto the door handle, but he held her firmly in place, so she decided to just enjoy the ride.  His tongue was tracing a figure-eight of sorts over her, where the bottom curve delved inside of her, and the top curved around her clit.  He had control of her positioning too, making it easy to thrust deeply, which he did.

"Oh fuck," she moaned, fingers scrabbling against the glass.

She'd thought the last orgasm came on fast, but this round was setting a new record.  Charles doubled his speed, smirking into her when she started rocking against his face.

"Charles...Charles I'm coming!" she gasped out, head pressed to the window, able to see his face buried between her thighs.

Her entire body erupted in goosebumps as waves of sensation crashed over her.  He brought her around with his tongue, his pace slowing the more responsive she became.  

"That was new," she commented breathlessly, carefully moving off of Charles' shoulders, with his help.

"A new favourite, I think," he winked at her.

She grasped his hands and tugged until he was standing, raising an eyebrow at him as he stretched his leg.

"Just the occasional stiffness," he assured her.

She clutched his tie and pulled him into a kiss before swiftly dropping to her knees in front of him, already in the process of freeing him from his garments before he could react.

"Samara-" he tried to object, still wanting it to be about her.

"Let me," she stated, eyes on his when she drew her tongue along his shaft.

She could feel him throbbing as she licked, smirking when a few swirls caused him to twitch.  She took him fully into her mouth, swallowing once he hit the back of her throat, reveling in his sharp intake of breath.  She bobbed up and down his length, employing every tactic she could think of with her tongue, teeth, hands, and suction, having catalogued over time all of the small things that made him quiver.

"Oh fy nuw," this time it was Charles' knees that were trembling, finding he had to lean against the window.

Sam raised a teasing eyebrow up at him, tongue flicking the underside of his head while one hand lightly twisted around the base of his member; her other hand massaging just below.  She wasn't at all surprised when shortly after, Charles’ fingers threaded into her hair and tugged lightly, a ragged whisper of, "Wait," falling between them.  

She released him with a 'pop', hands continuing to move as he quickly removed his tie and shirt, followed by his slacks and underwear.  He arranged them over the tile, then held his hand out to Sam.  She took it, and he guided her to lay on the clothing stomach down, her head pillowed by her arms.  He placed his hands on either side of her, lowering himself to lay flush along her backside. 

"Another one?" she asked incredulously, peering at him over her shoulder.

"It's just as Lucy's always blathering on about, 'Third time's a charm'," he commented, rocking his pelvis against her rear.

"Mmmm," she hummed in agreement, feeling his cock slide between her cheeks and stroke over a sensitive area.

He traced his fingers along her flesh, following the curve of her buttock until he'd found his (and her) favourite spot at the apex of her thighs.  

"Stop teasing me," she moaned, raising her hips off the floor a few inches.

"Your wish is my command," he murmured smugly, straddling her ass and lining himself up with her entrance.

He rubbed his tip against her teasingly, and on hearing her frustrated growl, sank home.  

"Ohhh," they groaned together, the position lending more of a tight, full feeling.

Charles started an agonizingly slow pace of thrusting into her, sometimes sliding smoothly, other times jerking his hips.   He'd learned that alternating was the quickest way to drive Sam wild, a sight he never tired of.  For her part, Sam was trying to push back against him, urging him deeper.  She wanted to feel him let go inside of her, marking them as each others’.

"Faster," she demanded breathily, fingers curling against the tiles.

"Yess," he hissed, picking up his speed.

The current view he had of her was spectacular, and mingling with how her muscles were tightening around him and how she was looking at him, he had to slow down again.

"Charles!" she cried out in frustration, trying to keep the pace herself.

"Patience, my love," his voice was hushed, internally counting backwards from one hundred in the hopes of keeping himself in check.

"Please," she whimpered.

He sped up, clenching his teeth when her walls began squeezing him again, unable to stop himself from lightly slapping her behind.

"Harder!" she shouted, the word riding on a moan.

He complied, changing his angle slightly to add more friction.  It was all she needed, it would seem, as he watched her come apart explosively beneath him, around him.  It took everything he had not to follow along in her incredibly enticing wake.  He slowed down immediately, waiting for her recover.  He lay along her back again, pressing soft kisses to her neck, madly in love with how her eyelashes fluttered as she came back down.

"What about you?" she asked, noticing he was still rock hard inside of her.

"Let's move to the bedroom," his voice was rough, a quality Sam quite liked.

He pulled out and got to his feet then helped Sam to hers, tenderly kissing her hand.

"I thought you said 'third time's a charm?'" she teased.

"The fourth one is for me," he whispered, hands sliding into her hair and tilting her head back, kissing her fiercely.  

She returned it for a few seconds before grasping his fingers and leading him to the stairs.  His hands were instantly on her, making the ascent up the steps rather difficult.  When they got to the second landing, she whipped around and grabbed his length, stroking him firmly.

"You make it very difficult to get upstairs," she commented, leaning forward to flick her tongue over his nipple.

"I don't think I can wait that long," he replied, pulling her against him.

"Then don't," she smiled crookedly.

Sam gently pushed him toward the wall of the landing until his back met it, pressing down on his shoulders until he sat on the floor.  She stood astride his thighs and lowered herself down to straddle him, mindful of the descending stairs to her left.  She kissed him langorously, taking her time as she traced her fingers over his skin.  He angled his head to deepen it, his hands meeting at the small of her back and bringing her close.  She rubbed her centre over his length, able to feel him throbbing against her, yet again, engorged flesh.  She drew it out, just as he’d done to her, until the erratic twitches of his groin earned her mercy.  She raised her hips, then lowered herself down onto his cock until her rear was flush with his thighs.

"Ahhh," she threw her head back and Charles took advantage of it, kissing along the column of her neck.

A flicker of movement to Sam's right caught her eye, turning her head to see a reflection of herself on top of Charles.  She caught his gaze in the mirror hung on the wall, a light smirk playing about his features.  She didn't know it, but he was internally thanking Past Charles for remembering to purchase some full-length mirrors.  She held the eye contact, lifting up again, dropping more quickly this time. 

Watching herself ride him was a whole new level for Sam, and she found her body increasing the speed of her thrusts without her even realizing it.  She couldn't tear her eyes away from the image in the mirror:  She on top of him, his mouth parted, eyebrows drawn like he could barely contain himself – particularly if she swiveled just so.  Sam knew they were both close, both hanging on by a thread.  She turned back to face him, their lips meeting, her hands buried in his tresses while his gripped her hips.  She pressed her forehead to his, amber depths meeting stormy blues in a way they hadn't before, and whispered, "I love you."

He hinged forward, cradling her head and upper back with one hand while the other snaked between them to stroke her to completion, his voice ragged as he murmured against her lips, "And I love you, completely."

The words, the intimacy, the connection, all of it had them catapulting together to a pinnacle of bliss.  Mantras of love and names harmonized in the air around them, forging a melody that would carry them forward.  They slowly caught their breath while clinging to one another, sharing one more kiss before helping each other up.

"I'm going to say it again," Charles murmured, brushing her hair from her face, "Because I need you to feel it, after everything I put you through."

Sam watched him patiently, cupping his jaw as he met her eyes.

"I love you, Samara, sincerely," and she felt it, "In an utterly whole and consuming way, such that I'm not sure what I'd be without you."

"Well you won't have to worry about that, Charles," she smiled, "Because I love you too."

She took his hand in hers and placed it over her heart, "It's beating for you," her voice was soft, "Because it is yours.  All of it."

"Just as all that I am belongs to you," he responded, pulling her to him.

Their moving moment was suddenly interrupted by a bark from down the hall.

"I guess that means no shower," laughed Sam.

"You wash up quickly," Charles kissed her nose, "I'll grab some clothing and put the food in the refrigerator."

"Deal," she nodded.

They walked out the front door with Bowser shortly after, Sam taking a quick peek around before ducking out.

"Looking for something?" asked Charles amusedly.

"I just still can't believe this is my home," she grinned, "That you are my home."

"And I always will be," he smiled softly, "As long as you'll have me."

"Always it is," she nodded, turning to lock up.

And while they had just closed that door behind them, they opened another as they walked hand in hand to the elevator.  One that led to a future of possibilities that they could make completely their own.  And they would...together.