Fic: You Feel So Tired but You Can't Sleep
Title: You Feel So Tired but You Can't Sleep
Rating: Soft R
A/N: This started out completely different and ended up here. Word limits are now my nemesis.
Disclaimer: I do not own Rookie Blue.
Written for Porn Battle.
Confession: When Sam was missing, the last thing Andy thought about was all the awesome sex she’d miss out on if they didn’t find him. She didn’t think about the shitload of trouble they were going to be in and she didn’t think about what could possibly be happening to him.
(Okay, maybe a little - his blood was splattered all over those stairs…)
What she did think about? When Sam told her he was gonna miss her - she didn’t say it back.
She even teased him about it after Brennan left. “Gonna miss me, huh?” she asked, licking her lips and grinning wickedly before opening her mouth and taking him all the way in - giving him something to remember.
It didn’t cross her mind until she was back in Traci’s car and choking on hysterical sobs. What exactly was her problem that she couldn’t tell him she was going to miss him, too?
More upsetting? Sam didn’t look surprised - like he’d been expecting her to flake out on him.
Now that they’re safely back in his apartment, naked and stretched out in bed, she’s suddenly, irrationally overcome with the need to make sure he knows.
(Her problem - she was scared. Terrified, actually. Still is, but it seems less important.)
He’s asleep - passed out on his side with his arm draped around her. In the dark she can’t see the bruises and the cuts but she knows they’re there, gently trails her finger over the cross-shaped one at his ribs.
His hand’s completely fucked - it’s braced, sure, but the second he tried to put weight on it earlier he winced and dropped on top of her, grunting an apology like it was his fault some psychopath took a hammer to him.
(Another confession: she’s never cried during sex - that is, not until tonight.)
She can’t sleep despite being up for the better part of forty-eight hours. “Sam?” she whispers.
The only response she gets is a soft snore; a quiet rumbling in the back of his throat.
She should let him be - knows that he needs rest. But… they’ve got three weeks to do nothing but rest and she just… she really missed him.
Running her fingers down the line of hair under his bellybutton, she dips between his legs, stroking until he’s half hard in her hand. “Sam?”
His hips twitch forward- she can’t tell if it’s a subconscious thing or not. She decides to try one just one more time before leaving him alone. Tightening her grip, she twists her hand and then slides it up. “Sam?” He mumbles something that sounds like her name. “You awake?”
Sam groans as he pushes into her hand and his voice is thick and raspy. “Andy - “
“Shhh…” she scoots up to kiss him, quieting a protest. Her hand keeps going, slow and steady, and when she circles her thumb around the tip he gasps into her mouth.
When he pulls away he mumbles, confused, “Andy - what…?”
“I’m sorry,” she whispers urgently, feeling his hand slide up her thigh. “I’m so sorry. I just… I did, I missed you.” Her voice cracks when he slips a finger in, curling forward. She swallows hard, trembling - “I should’ve told you, I’m sorry.”
It takes a second to realize she’s tearing up. Sam notices right away and she can feel his lips against the side of her face, kissing away the wetness. “It’s okay, McNally. Please don’t… God, please don’t cry.”
“I don’t even know what I would have done if we hadn’t found you…”
“Don’t talk like that,” he interrupts, removing his finger and reaching down to hitch her leg up around his waist.
“Come on…” he urges. “Don’t think about it.” With one smooth, slick motion he sinks all the way in.
Andy’s not sure if he’s trying to distract her or what, but either way she whimpers and squeezes her eyes shut as he starts to move; an unhurried rhythm that’s got a slow burn kindling in her belly.
She clenches around him when he pushes up and her nipples brush against the hair on his chest with every thrust - it doesn’t take long for either of them and soon soft moans are filling the air. Andy goes over first, unable to stop herself from biting into the skin of his shoulder, and he follows not far behind.
When they both calm down, she sniffs a little. “I missed you,” she whispers again, still shaky.
“I know, sweetie,” he murmurs quietly, pushing the hair off of her forehead before pressing a kiss there.
They drift to sleep like that, legs intertwined, tucked together.