[Stiles bit his lip, clasping his arms behind Sam's head as Sam's touch blazed across his skin, rocking steadily. The teen closed his eyes, feeling Sam's lips on his neck, and ground down tentatively on Sam, meeting his hips and adding pressure to the motion.
Stiles was nervous - though it was a combination of things. Intimacy was...new to Stiles, and he hadn't exactly gotten the best impression of it so this was...well, he hadn't decided yet.
Sam was amazing, though; he was a whole number of things - intelligent, compassionate, and patient, to name a few - and the fact that he looked like Adonis didn't hurt, either.]
[Every slow grind into him makes Sam want him a little more. His lips trail along his jaw, nipping and tasting his skin. Sam shifts back a little, rolling to lay Stiles out on the bed with him. When they're laying side by side, Sam leans in to kiss him. His hand strokes down his shoulder and along his arm.
[As they lay near, Sam leans his body against Stiles. A close press, but he's trying so hard not to be intrusive. He doesn't want to overwhelm or frighten him.
[Sam doesn't want to screw this up. He wants this to work. His question is breathless.] Still okay?
M'fine. [Stiles smiles, resting his forehead against Sam's as they catch their breath. He slides a hand over Sam's chest, down his spine to his jeans, slipping a hand into Sam's back pocket.] And you?
[Stiles' gaze dropped to Sam's tattoo, wondering what exactly it was for; Sam didn't seem like the type to take pride in leaving permanent marks like that on his body for anything less than an immensely important reason. He didn't ask about it however, instead just leaning forward to press a kiss the symbol.]
[He arches into every gentle, questing touch. This is what he’d wanted for Stiles, for them both. To take their time, slowly explore one another. One hand remains beneath his shirt, fingers following every long line of his back. Sam wants bare skin, he wants to touch and learn every inch of him, but he waits until Stiles is ready for it. He holds him close, murmuring quiet words of affection as they slowly kiss and touch. This is right. Perfect.
[Sam slides one hand between them, smiling into a kiss as he shifts his erection so it’s not rubbing quite as uncomfortably in his jeans. He’s acutely aware that Stiles’s first time had been painful, and while he’s going to do everything to make sure this time isn’t, it’s a very real worry at the back of his mind. He doesn’t want to hurt him again.
[His hand catches the hem of Stiles’s shirt and Sam breaks a slow, exploratory kiss.] Can.. can I?
If...if you want to. [Stiles could feel an erection of his own begin to make itself known, slow, languid pace building steadily and carefully.] ...there's not much to see.
[Stiles shifts a little closer, letting Sam know that it's okay; this, at least. Once the pants come off, Stiles was even more nervous about what might happen, what he might want to happen...]
Hey. [Sam kisses him, affection warm in his eyes.] That’s not true.
[He’s gentle, helping Stiles sit up and take his shirt off and waiting for him to lay back down. Once he’s comfortable, Sam leans up on one elbow, mapping every line of his chest with his fingers. Every pass of his fingers is followed with a press of his lips. Slow and easy. This is about showing him how much he’s wanted, how much Sam cares. It’s not just sex. It’s intimacy and want and affection.
[He drags his fingertips across his stomach, laying a faint kiss there, pausing to gauge his reaction. If there’s resistance or hesitation, he’ll back off.]
Uh, yeah it is... [Stiles mumbles to himself, but he sits up and takes off his shirt in light of Sam's earnest enthusiasm and affection. He shrinks into the mattress, cold and a little bit embarrassed about his pale torso, now that he's clean and clearly visible, not coated in gravel and covered in a mixture of fresh bruises and scratches as he had been the first time, able to hide in the dimly lit warehouse.
But Sam doesn't seem to mind Stiles' less-than-average body, warm digits dancing across his skin, followed by soft lips. Stiles gently brushed a hand back through Sam's hair as he stilled, smiling softly.]
Hey. It’s not. [His smile is all fond amusement as he looks up from where his lips have been following the curve of his collarbone. Instinct has him following Stiles as he shrinks into the mattress, moving until they’re almost laying chest to chest. His hands sweep down his sides, then up his back, a slow, easy circuit. Sam is careful to keep his hips from pressing completely into him just yet.
[He hums his approval at the additional contact, the warm slide of skin against skin, into the kiss. When he feels the tension begin to slip out of his shoulders again, Sam brushes one hand down to his hip. As his hand slides over and across, he breaks the kiss long enough to watch his eyes, gague his reaction at this more intimate, if faint, touch.] Slow. [A whispered promise against his lips.]
[Whatever you say, Stiles thinks, goosebumps rising on his skin as Sam runs his hands across Stiles' back. Sam's chest grazes his, warm and smooth, but his hips are still suspended above Stiles'. The teen can sense Sam's erection right there, close, and shifts to brush his hips against Sam's once before retreating, watching to see if that was the right thing to do.]
Do you, um... [Stiles loses his train of thought, electricity shooting through his limbs as Sam brushes over him through his jeans. He pauses for a moment, feeling the word whispered against his lips, before nodding softly and arching a timid kiss into Sam's mouth.]
[The hesitant brushes are possibly the most erotic contact Sam has ever experienced. He wants more. Wants to crush him against his chest and claim him. His eyes are dark with desire as Stiles looks up at him and Sam draws in a slow breath.
[At his reaction to the brush against his erection, Sam reaches down to cup him, a slow, steady press into him. He kisses the corner of his mouth.] Hn? What?
I don't remember... [Stiles smiles, blinking as Sam cups him, steady pressure against him. Stiles captured Sam's bottom lip, nibbling at it softly for a moment, sliding his hands around Sam's torso to his back pockets, giving him a gentle squeeze.] ...What do you want, Sam?
You. [It's a breathless sound of want he makes into the kiss, shifting to slowly settle himself over Stiles.] I want you. I want to make love to you. If.. [he kisses him, stroking a hand down his back.] if you want that. Me, I mean.
[Stiles swallows, eyelashes fluttering as Sam lowers himself carefully onto Stiles, erection thick against his thigh.] I want you.
Just...what if it...hurts again? [Stiles asks in a small voice, relaxing at the kiss and hand trailing down his back. He's as good as new, minus his virginity, but he remembers.]
[And he feels a stab of regret at that. He cups his cheek, kissing him again.] It's different when you go slower. It's going to be a little uncomfortable until you relax, but I promise I won't hurt you. If it hurts, you tell me to stop and I will. No questions asked.
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Stiles was nervous - though it was a combination of things. Intimacy was...new to Stiles, and he hadn't exactly gotten the best impression of it so this was...well, he hadn't decided yet.
Sam was amazing, though; he was a whole number of things - intelligent, compassionate, and patient, to name a few - and the fact that he looked like Adonis didn't hurt, either.]
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[As they lay near, Sam leans his body against Stiles. A close press, but he's trying so hard not to be intrusive. He doesn't want to overwhelm or frighten him.
[Sam doesn't want to screw this up. He wants this to work. His question is breathless.] Still okay?
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[Stiles' gaze dropped to Sam's tattoo, wondering what exactly it was for; Sam didn't seem like the type to take pride in leaving permanent marks like that on his body for anything less than an immensely important reason. He didn't ask about it however, instead just leaning forward to press a kiss the symbol.]
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[Sam slides one hand between them, smiling into a kiss as he shifts his erection so it’s not rubbing quite as uncomfortably in his jeans. He’s acutely aware that Stiles’s first time had been painful, and while he’s going to do everything to make sure this time isn’t, it’s a very real worry at the back of his mind. He doesn’t want to hurt him again.
[His hand catches the hem of Stiles’s shirt and Sam breaks a slow, exploratory kiss.] Can.. can I?
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[Stiles shifts a little closer, letting Sam know that it's okay; this, at least. Once the pants come off, Stiles was even more nervous about what might happen, what he might want to happen...]
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[He’s gentle, helping Stiles sit up and take his shirt off and waiting for him to lay back down. Once he’s comfortable, Sam leans up on one elbow, mapping every line of his chest with his fingers. Every pass of his fingers is followed with a press of his lips. Slow and easy. This is about showing him how much he’s wanted, how much Sam cares. It’s not just sex. It’s intimacy and want and affection.
[He drags his fingertips across his stomach, laying a faint kiss there, pausing to gauge his reaction. If there’s resistance or hesitation, he’ll back off.]
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But Sam doesn't seem to mind Stiles' less-than-average body, warm digits dancing across his skin, followed by soft lips. Stiles gently brushed a hand back through Sam's hair as he stilled, smiling softly.]
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[He hums his approval at the additional contact, the warm slide of skin against skin, into the kiss. When he feels the tension begin to slip out of his shoulders again, Sam brushes one hand down to his hip. As his hand slides over and across, he breaks the kiss long enough to watch his eyes, gague his reaction at this more intimate, if faint, touch.] Slow. [A whispered promise against his lips.]
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Do you, um... [Stiles loses his train of thought, electricity shooting through his limbs as Sam brushes over him through his jeans. He pauses for a moment, feeling the word whispered against his lips, before nodding softly and arching a timid kiss into Sam's mouth.]
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[At his reaction to the brush against his erection, Sam reaches down to cup him, a slow, steady press into him. He kisses the corner of his mouth.] Hn? What?
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Just...what if it...hurts again? [Stiles asks in a small voice, relaxing at the kiss and hand trailing down his back. He's as good as new, minus his virginity, but he remembers.]
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