Title: Soft Shock
Summary: It feels like you've always known that Sam was different. CarlyxVampire!Sam; CAM
Disclaimer: I do not own anything.
A/N: So, this started out as a snippet of writing that was destined to end up in the black hole of unfinished fic but Drosier seemed to take a liking to it so I more or less wrote it entirely for her. I'm not sure she knows it though since I forced her to beta it and help pick a title but really it's the thought that counts, right?
Also, this is my first attempt at anything like this and I don't know alot about vampires but I hope you guys like it.
It feels like you've always known that Sam was different.
You can't even remember how old you were when she hooked her sticky pinky finger around yours under the shaded cover of the playground slide and made you promise not to tell.
And it isn't her extremely aggressive nature that makes her different, not her affinity for completely destroying any sort of rule or regulation that keeps her from what she wants, the way she can eat Fatcake after low fat Fatcake without getting sick, or even the way her dad just up and left one day without looking back. No, those things make her a little weird or maybe unique, but not different. What makes her different from most people that you know is how her skin, which has way more color than your own, is a little too sensitive to the sun, it's the way she's very much a night person, it's the way that Sam's half vampire.
It's not like Sam turns into a bat at night or goes out and attacks people, sucking them dry of their blood or anything like that, but she does have to drink bright red synthetic blood that comes in heavy glass bottles and is available at any local grocery store because times have changed and people are way more accepting nowadays "What does it taste like?"
Sam sets the bottle down on the counter top with a heavy thunk, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth, and you blink at the faint streaks of pink left on her wrist.
"Why?" Sam wonders, pale eyebrows arching and you drop your chin into the palm of your hand, elbow digging into the tile counter while you twist in your stool absently.
"I dunno." You shrug, eyeing the bottle, and you can't even pronounce most of the ingredients on the label. "Just curious."
"It just tastes like blood, I guess. All metallic, like I'm drinking pocket change." She smiles at you and the inside of her mouth is bright red. "You wanna try some?"
You feel yourself blush as she tips the bottle towards you just a little but you laugh it off and look away, trying to calm that fluttering feeling in your stomach.
"No thanks, I'll just stick to my juice," you finally mumble, holding up your glass of grape juice and Sam shrugs, downing the rest of her blood.
You stare at the empty glass, suddenly very aware of the blood pumping through your own body while Sam flops down on the couch.
"Have you ever had real blood?" you ask, twisting around to face Sam while she digs between the cushion and produces the remote.
"Like human blood?" she asks around a yawn, flipping channels, and you nod.
You wonder if she wants to and the thought makes you flush for reasons you're not really sure of.
You wake up in the middle of the night, reaching out blindly to the side of your bed that Sam tends to occupy more often than not and you force your eyes open when you come up with nothing but a handful of cold sheets.
Its late, well after 2 in the morning, and you stare blearily at the empty spot beside you, wondering if Sam is downstairs finishing off the roast Spencer made for dinner but then there's a soft, sniffling sound coming from the bathroom and you realize that's what probably woke you up and that's also where Sam has gone.
It takes you a moment to gather enough coordination to fling the blankets off of you and pad barefoot to the bathroom where light is seeping through the bottom of the door.
"Sam?" you call softly, knocking on the door and you can hear her moving, another sniffling breath, and then silence. "Sam, are you okay?"
And you're used to Sam staying up all hours of the night, especially on Fridays when there's no school the next day and she can sleep all day, but something about right now is making a feeling crawl into the narrow space in your throat and making it hard to breathe.
"Sam?" you call again, hand finding the doorknob, and when she doesn't answer you again you push the door open slowly. "Sam, it's me."
She's sitting on the floor, back against the wall and cold linoleum under her bare feet. Her knees are pulled to her chest, arms folded on top, and she looks up at you with glassy blue eyes, looking ridiculously small in her pajamas.
"Sam, what's wrong?" you breathe, easing into the bathroom and kneeling beside her, putting a hand on her arm, and you've always been in awe at the way her skin is always just a little cold.
Sam swallows, loud and hard, blinking rapidly like she's trying to stop herself from crying but its useless because tears are breaking free and you reach out automatically, wiping them away with careful fingers.
"Sam, please tell me," you plead, voice catching because you've never seen Sam like this, so sad and scared and in turn fear is curling up on the back of your tongue.
"It's my…my…" She stops, swallowing thickly, and there's more tears and you really just want her to stop crying. "…my fangs."
You can honestly say you weren't expecting that.
She parts her lips a little and sure enough there they are, these two tiny, white, glistening, sharp things that weren't there before but are there now, and you suck in a surprised breath.
"I just woke up and they were there and I can't-can't get the stupid things to go back in." She hiccups softly, reaching up to wipe at her eyes with tired, fumbling hands.
"Oh, Sam," you coo softly, that tightness in your chest loosening slightly because it's not as bad as you thought it was. "It's okay."
"No, its not. I can't control them."
"Yeah, it is," you murmur, taking her hands in yours and smiling reassuringly. "You'll figure out how to control them."
"But anyone can see them and then they'll know…" She trails off anxiously, meeting your gaze with troubled eyes .
"They'll know what? That you're half vampire? So what, who cares? Most people aren't gonna care, Sam, and if anyone does you can just pound them into the ground," you whisper, twining your fingers with Sam's, thumb brushing over her knuckles, and she squeezes your hand.
You and Sam both know its not that simple though because sometimes people aren't exactly tolerant and you both know that its only the complete idiots going through life a few chromosomes short that say things, stupid things, and refer to vampires as hemo-gobblers, but Sam still gets that look on her face, that expression that makes you so angry that if you weren't worried about getting kicked out of school and being arrested, you'd punch them right in their bigoted faces.
"Besides, ever since that senator came out as a vampire along and the lead singer of Cuddlefish and that super rich talk show host, nobody cares about stuff like that anymore. Anyway, you can hardly see them," you finish because you want Sam to feel better
"Open up, lemme see," you whisper and she does and you stare at her teeny fangs, the way the tip of her tongue curls up to rub against the sharp point experimentally and a feeling that's all unfamiliar heat swells in your chest. "Yep, you can barely see those things."
She lets you drag her to bed after that, curling up behind her after tucking her in, and you stay up for a while after, thinking about Sam's mouth.
Sam spends the majority of the weekend holed up in the loft, cutting her own lips on her fangs before one day you make a stupid joke and she's grinning at you with a mouthful of normal teeth.
She's ecstatic but you can't help but miss her sharp smile just a little.
"So it turns out I can sort of glamour people."
You look up from your phone and at Sam beside you on the park bench, sunglasses over her eyes and her hood tugged down over her head, blonde hair spilling free.
"What?!" You breathe and Sam nods, shoving her hand into the bag of popcorn in her lap like she just asked what time it was and not like she just told you that she sorta kinda has the ability to hypnotize people. "How did you-?"
"Well, I was in the hall between classes and Gibby was there, being all Gibby-like and I really wanted to give him a Texas wedgie but I was carrying all of my stupid books because my backpack broke and there he was, shirtless and sweaty, and I just had this overwhelming urge for his underwear to go up into his butt," she says with a crude gesture. "Then our eyes met across the hall and it was like I was inside his head, like magic, and then he reached back, grabbed his underwear, and gave himself a wedgie. It was awesome."
Sam is grinning at you triumphant and reckless and you stare at her, mouth agape, before furrowing your brows incredulously.
"I don't believe you," you blurt because more and more of Sam's abilities are surfacing and yeah, you knew she was a little stronger and a little faster than most people and on a good day she can smell a honeyed ham a block away but the new stuff is kinda weird. "How do I know Gibby just didn't see you and wedgie himself before you could do it? I mean, everyone knows that Gibby is all about self preservation."
"Carls, I'm telling you, this self wedgie wasn't spontaneous. I caused it with my mind and these baby blues," she says, tipping her sunglasses to the bridge of her nose and watching you with bright blue eyes and you bite down on your lip and swallow the fluttering in your chest.
"Alright fine, do it to me," you finally say and Sam blinks at you, cocky smile falling from her lips before pulling off her sunglasses completely.
"Do it to me. Glamour me…if you can," you say, hands floating up in air quotes and Sam rolls her eyes and shoves a handful of popcorn in her mouth.
"Don't tempt me, Carly," she mumbles through butter and salt, and you shove your phone in your pocket, twisting on the bench to face Sam completely, and she looks up at you through her bangs like she can't be bothered to push them out of her eyes.
"C'mon, Sam. Do it…if you can," you tease and ultimately that's all it takes because Sam is always up for a challenge and she crumples her popcorn bag slowly, tossing it over her shoulder, and in the general directions of the trash bin before twisting in her seat too.
"Oh I can," she confirms, cracking her knuckles dramatically. "What do you want me to make you do? I mean, I can't make you take off all of your clothes and streak across the park as hilarious as that would be but I can strongly suggest you do stuff that's already in your head."
"Okay, well, suggest I do something I'm already thinking about and not anything lame like scratching my nose or blinking."
Sam nods, wriggling her fingers. "Alright, look into my eyes."
So you do, you drop your chin and stare into Sam's eyes that are blue and gossamer with the most bored expression you can muster despite a smile pulling at your mouth, because Sam is grinning too, but then you take a breath and everything changes…
The smile is melting from your face, you can feel it, slow and uncontrollable as the air turns heavy, and you've looked into Sam's eyes a billion times but never like this.
You can't look away and it's sort of like you're outside of your body and that feeling that you get when you look at Sam now, fluttering and eager, is filling your entire chest cavity, sliding under your skin, filling your head, and its like Sam is all over you.
You drag in a breath as you lean towards her and it doesn't even feel like you're moving, like its your body leaning or your muscles straining, but it is because you feel it when you're close enough for her breath to fan against your mouth, and you feel her skin under your palm when you touch her neck, long strands of blond hair tickling your fingers.
You're going to kiss her.
You want to kiss her.
And yeah, you've been totally aware of that wanting feeling where it sits constantly nagging at the back of your brain like that hobo on the corner of Corbin but it's pushing forward suddenly and taking center stage and what was once a half-formed feeling that you didn't really want to deal with is taking shape and fully forming in your mind.
You don't close your eyes, in fact you're pretty sure it would be impossible to, as your mouth meets Sam's, and her lips are softer than you ever imagined while half-awake in the middle of the night between bleary dreams. This close up you can see the way her pupils are blown wide open as you kiss her harder, tongue sliding against her bottom lip.
But then her eyes are fluttering shut while you slip your tongue past her teeth and Sam's mouth is cold and you wonder idly if you're hot to her, if you're burning her, because it feels like you're hot enough to.
You feel the way Sam tilts her head to fit your mouths together better and you curl your fingers against the nape of her neck, try to get a little closer, and then Sam is gasping into your mouth and there's a sharp, painful pull against your bottom lip and Sam is jerking away.
Then you're plummeting back to yourself like someone has just dropped you from 100 feet back into your body and you squeeze your eyes shut as everything swims and tilts, spilling to the left, and it's like a ringing bell is inside of your head, rattling around in your skull.
Sam swears loudly and you open your eyes to meet her watery, unfocused gaze and then you realize that her fangs are out. They're peeking out just a little, hardly noticeable, but the blood smeared across her lips, your blood, is giving her away.
"Ouch," you mutter, touching your mouth. Your shaking fingers come away dark red with blood and it should be scary, terrifying, but the hard rhythm your heart has taken up has very little to do with actual fear. You blink at her and wonder if the sun has always been this bright.
"I'm sorry," she blurts quickly, pushing up from the bench awkwardly, and you look from your fingers to her mouth stupidly. "I didn't mean to. I didn't know that I could…"
She pushes both hands through her hair, forcing her hood off of her head.
"Sam," you start because something has to be said even though you have no idea what that something is but Sam is wiping her mouth on her sleeve and snagging her backpack off of the bench. "Sam."
"I have to go. I'll see you later," she says quickly and all you can do is watch her stalk across the grass because you don't know what the hell just happened.
Actually, that's not true; you know exactly what just happened.
Sam said that she could only suggest you do something that was already in your head, she couldn't make you do anything. She didn't make you kiss her, you wanted to, and yep, that sounds about right.
Sam's actually not that hard to find once you get the courage to go looking for her.
You wipe your hands on your jeans after you drop down on the other side of the fence surrounding Sam's backyard, careful not to use the door because it creaks in the worst way and Sam's mom would go berserk if she knew you were here at this hour.
You can make out her shape in the hammock tied between two trees, swinging back and forth just a bit and you shove your hands into your pockets as you crunch across the cold lawn.
You're not surprised when she's not surprised that you're here, in the middle of the night.
"Hey," you breathe out into the cold air and Sam looks up at you through the darkness like she's been expecting you and you're running late.
"Hey," she whispers back, shifting uncomfortably on the hammock before she decides to just sit up, feet firmly planted in the grass and fingers twisted up in the netting of the hammock. "Hi."
You feel yourself blush and you don't even try to stop the burn because it's useless. Instead you shift on your feet, right to left, before gesturing at the space beside Sam.
"Mind if I sit?"
"I don't care," Sam murmurs in a way that lets you know that she does really want you to sit so you do, your weight making the net swing a little more, and for a while it's just the two of you breathing. In and out, more in sync than you thought possible.
"So…" you breathe as your hair whips across your face thanks to a particularly strong gust of wind, and Sam presses her hands together before shoving them between her knees.
"So…" she whispers, refusing to take your bait.
"You were right about that glamouring thing," you say quietly, laughing a bit out of nervousness and Sam just nods.
"Yeah, about that…" Sam swallows carefully, looking at you with way too much guilt. "I didn't know that I could do that. That I could make you-"
"You didn't make me do anything." You cut her off quickly. "I mean, you said it yourself that you can't make people do stuff that's they're not already thinking about."
"What're-what're you saying?" she asks, eyes wide in the dark because you have her full attention now and you take a breath to steady yourself because, man, you're so nervous. It feels like your skin is turned inside-out and Sam can see everything.
"That…I've thought about it." You exhale. "Which is probably why what happened, happened." You're voice dies out at the end of your sentence and you stare down at your shoes in the grass, twisting your toe into the soil.
"Me too," she whispers after a moment of deafening, suicidal thought-inducing silence and something warm and pleasant spills into your chest.
"Eh," she shrugs, pressing her lips closed against a telling smile and you grin in response, pressing it into the sleeve of your sweatshirt. "What can I say? You do things to me, kid."
"Are you going to be able to turn into a bat?"
"What about flying? Are you gonna be able to fly?"
"That would be awesome, but no."
"You don't sleep in a coffin, do you?"
"Carly, you've seen me sleep in your bed, my bed, on your kitchen floor, in class, none of those places are coffins."
"I know, but I'm just asking."
"Ya know, all of these are terrible vampire stereotypes," Sam informs you and you swivel in your stool, away from the computer screen to face Sam spread out on the couch, limbs everywhere.
"Well I was just wondering what other stuff we can expect. I mean, you are going through vampiric puberty."
"Well none of that is gonna happen…I hope. I mean, my Dad couldn't do any of that stuff."
"And your dad was a full vampire?" you ask, hopping down and moving to the couch, shoving her legs out of the way so you can sit.
"Yep, he was a normal guy that just needed to work the night shift at the factory and had really sensitive skin," Sam clarifies with a shrug.
"Did he have to drink human blood?" you ask, playing with the knee of her shorts as Sam stretches her legs across your lap.
"Well, lots of vampires get blood from blood banks or, ya'know, willing donors."
"People that want to donate their blood or want to be fed on."
You nod thoughtfully, running your hand down her smooth legs and then back up again while half-formed ideas tumble around in your head. "Ya know when we kissed in the park?"
"Yeah." Sam nods, smiling just a bit at the corners of her mouth.
"And your you-know-whats cut my lips," you say carefully, gesturing at Sam's mouth and Sam frowns a little, licking at the place where her fangs sometimes are but aren't right now.
"What did I-uh, what did my…" You trail off nervously because this is a weird, twisted question, and why should it matter what your blood tasted like? It's blood and it serves other important purposes, none of which being are pleasing Sam's palette. "How did I taste?" you blurt anyway and proceed to blush all the way to your scalp and Sam sits up a little, drawing her legs out of your lap and to her chest.
"You wanna know how you tasted?"
"Yes-I mean, no. Never mind, I was just being stupid," you exclaim, ready to jump off of the couch and into the nearest gaping hole in the ground but Sam is moving, keeping you on the couch with hands on your shoulders. "Sam, just..."
"No, I get it. You were my first and you want to know how it was," she grins and you shift on the cushions uncomfortably.
"I mean, well, yeah," you finally sigh and Sam's eyebrow, the one with too much personality for its own good, rises just a bit and she scoots closer, tucking her socked feet under your thigh, and you watch her quietly before she leans over and kisses you.
You feel like a can of Peppy Cola that's been all shaken up, warm and fizzy bubbles pushing out against your ribs, as Sam's mouth slides carefully over yours, her hand lifting to cup your jaw.
"You tasted like sweet, warm metal …" she whispers right against your lips. "Like pennies left in the sun and covered in maple syrup."
And being compared to sticky pocket change shouldn't make heat race across your skin but when Sam is pressing the words into your mouth like she is, it does.
"That's good? The taste?" you murmur as Sam nips at your bottom lip. "I mean as far as blood goes."
"Yep," she whispers in that voice that's all sincerity and seriousness, the one that she only uses when she's with you. "It made me want to…" Sam trails off softly, pulling back a little and her eyes are completely focused on your mouth.
You lick your lips before you can stop yourself. "Made you want to what?" you exhale and Sam's eyes dart up to meet yours, like she's coming out of a trance or something, and your heart doesn't stop pounding for hours after she leaves.
You guys aren't dating.
It's not that nervous, fluttering feeling that comes with new relationships because it's you and Sam and this is more an evolution of your relationship than anything else.
Of course, there are still those nervous, fluttering feelings. Like when Sam takes your hand under the desk during class when the lights are down and the projector is on, boring students to death, or when you get carried away kissing Sam and she gasps, tight and urgent, as her fangs slide into place against your tongue.
And geeze, you really like that.
Running your tongue along the curve of her fang while she stays so still for you and you have no idea why. You're not sure why you like it so much when Sam talks to you around a mouthful of artificial blood, the insides of her mouth stained red, or why you get that feeling up your spine when Sam is trying to glamour Ms. Briggs into forgetting that she has detention after school but its there.
"Uhngf." You swallow the sound Sam makes against your mouth, pressing your palms harder against the wood of the closed bedroom door. "Carls."
She pulls back a little and your mouth finds her neck then the underside of her jaw as she grips the loops of your jeans and pulls until you're flush against her.
"Carly, you're making me…" Her words catch and stall and when you look at her, her fangs are out and her eyes are heavy. "My teeth," she says as way of explanation.
"It's okay," you breathe, smiling a little and Sam just watches you with dark eyes before you lean in and kiss her again, harder this time, so you can feel the pointed drag of her teeth against the inside of your lip.
Your hands are shaking, badly, as they find their way between the two of you, sliding down the front of her shirt, over her breast, before gripping the hem of her shirt. "I like it."
Sam blinks at you, pupils wide and dark in the half-light of your bedroom. "You like it?" She asks in disbelief and when her brow furrows like that it makes your stomach swim in the worst ways. "How could you like this?"
You pull away then, swallowing hard because Sam looks almost…disgusted that you could like this part of her.
"Sam, its not…" You start blankly as Sam rubs her hand across her face, over her mouth.
"I'm a freak, Carls," she whispers like you should already know and you frown deeply because you can't understand how Sam could feel this way when you know she's nothing but this fun, amazing, meat-loving person. "Ya know, like Nosferatu!"
"No, you're not." You bark louder than you mean to and Sam startles a bit. "I think it's hot because I think you're hot"
Sam smiles a little at you as you suck in an annoyed breath. "You think I'm hot?"
"Yes," you huff. "And you're not a freak so stop saying that. You're just this awesome, slightly-violent girl."
"Yeah?" she breathes and you nod, meeting her eyes and there's something there that makes you want to hold onto her forever.
You wake up in the middle of the night with Sam's mouth moving against your neck.
It takes you almost a full minute to figure out what is going on because you're on the couch instead of in bed with the blanket you and Sam had been sharing when you first started watching low budget horror films a few hours ago tangled around your hips and legs.
You blink up at the ceiling stupidly, watching the bluish light from the television dance against the ceiling while Sam mouths at the underside of your jaw.
"What're you doing?" you finally manage to croak, twisting a little under Sam's weight, and at first you think that she doesn't hear you or maybe that you didn't really say anything at all so you reach up and touch the soft curls of her hair. "Sam."
Her mouth makes a soft sound as she pulls away from your skin and then before you realize it, she's kissing you deep and curious and all you can do is hang on so you don't fly apart.
"Do you smell that?" she finally speaks, the words slipping right into your mouth because she's talking against your lips and you shake your head no even though you seriously doubt you'd notice if the entire loft was filled with smoke at this point.
"No," you whisper as Sam pulls back a little and her eyes rake over you, down to where her thighs are on either side of your hips. "I don't smell anything. "
"I think it's you," Sam murmurs, looking over you again with the blue of her eyes hardly visible thanks to the darkness and the way her pupils are blown wide open.
"I smell?" you hiss and you wonder why Sam is rubbing against you like she is if you smell so bad. "Sam."
"You smell weird," Sam mumbles again before kissing you again, sloppy and intense.
"Weird?" you gasp as Sam's hand slips under your tee shirt and when she kisses you again you realize what's happening because her fangs are dragging across your tongue and you squeak a little in surprise even as something heavy and liquid gathers low in your stomach.
"Sweet," she continues, pulling back suddenly, and the look on her face reminds you of that time she ate an entire roast. "Like Fatcakes. Not the low fat kind but the regular kind."
And you try to think, try to remember if you've eaten Fatcakes recently but you don't even like those things because any food that's a pink puff ball is too unnatural for your taste buds.
"Sam, I didn't- "
She cuts you off again with another kiss while her hands scratch across your ribs and up, and you can't help the whimper that escapes you.
"I can taste it a little when I kiss you," she whispers brokenly. "Like it's under your skin."
'Or in my blood,' you think but you don't say it aloud because just thinking it makes your heart pound harder than it already is and speaking the words might make it burst right through your rib cage. Instead you lean up to kiss Sam.
Sam flattens out against you, lets you untangle your legs just a bit before she rears back again, this time her hands on the fly of your jeans, and you squeeze your eyes shut, try to keep your hips from lifting off the cushion in that desperate way that they are, because really it's just making it harder for Sam to get your pants off.
And you definitely want her to get your pants off.
You doubt you've ever been more grateful for anything in your life, not even when Spencer bought you those Italian boots from the mall that you'd been begging him for, than when Sam unfastens your jeans.
The thought of Spencer makes you look past Sam's shoulder nervously and at the darkened hallway that leads to his bedroom but then Sam's hand is sliding into your jeans, into your panties, and you gasp, your focus shifting to the ceiling and the way Sam's fingers are cold.
And she's touching you, she's inside of you and her free hand is on your breast and everything is a little fumbling and uncoordinated in the same way it's difficult to pat your head and rub your stomach simultaneously but its okay because she feels so, so good.
You shut your eyes tight, managing to get your arms to wrap around Sam as something like white, hot pleasure comes barreling down on you.
Her mouth is on your neck again, sliding down to where it meets your shoulder and you feel the drag of her fangs the entire way, and that's it.
You're shuddering against her with a cry that you try to muffle against her shoulder and you're dimly aware that she's only been touching you for a few maybe 5 or 6 minutes, and you're coming, can't stop coming, like some teenage boy that's just hit puberty, but you can't help it.
She waits till you're finally finished, until you're basically a puddle of your former self on the couch before slipping her hands free of your clothes, but her mouth is still hovering against your shoulder, breathing deeply like she's trying to steady herself and is failing.
"You can-can do it, if you want," you blurt softly and you feel Sam shake just a little above you. "Bite me, I mean."
And this time Sam makes a hiccuping sound that makes you twist your hands in the back of her shirt.
"But just a little, okay?" you whisper softly and you can feel the flex of muscle as Sam's hands fist against the couch cushion.
You think she might push away then, be disgusted or weirded out again, but instead she's lowering herself back on top of you, one hand sliding up shakily to your throat, guiding your face away and to the side, and your body is immediately hot all over.
She kisses the side of your neck, licks the same spot and you're already arching in anticipation but there's a thump from Spencer's room and the two of you are scrambling apart guiltily.
Spencer stumbles out of the hall a few seconds later, his hair a mess and sleep in his eyes and you hold your breath, cover your lap with the blanket to hide the fact that your pants are slung halfway down your hips.
"Hey, what're you guys doing up so late?" he mumbles, heading for the kitchen.
"Nothing," you both say simultaneously and when you glance at Sam, she's already watching you.
You blush and she smiles at you.
Spencer isn't really sure how to punish you because you don't usually do things like this so he'd regretfully informed you that you were grounded then asked if you wanted to go get ice cream, and you're pretty sure that is not how this whole punishment thing is supposed to go.
So, it's more of a self-imposed grounding that's going on, because you deserve it. Because today you beat someone up.
And you're aware that violence isn't really the answer no matter how much Sam insists that beating people to a pulp gets her lots of answers.
But that kid really deserved it.
He called Sam a hemo-gobbler in the hall, and before she could gather the appropriate amount of rage and erase that look from her face you were already swinging your shoulder bag filled with textbooks and nailing that kid right in the face.
It's not like he died or lost consciousness or anything but you did manage to break his nose and there was a sort of satisfying rush that came with the sight of blood gushing from his face, because that jerk really, really deserved it.
And it's hard to feel guilty at all sometimes when you remember the way that Sam looked at you like she was in awe, like she was proud, and maybe like she wanted to kiss you even as Principal Franklin led you down the hall toward your doom…a 5 day suspension.
"How come you get suspended when you clock someone but when I do it Franklin makes me eat lunch with Ms. Briggs for a week?"
It's the third day of your suspension and you're going absolutely stir crazy, though Sam ditching school to spend the day with you helps in a totally frowned-upon way.
"Because you punch people with the sole purpose of getting suspended so you don't have to go to school," you point out and Sam just shrugs and continues flipping through the television channels with your black remote.
"Point taken," she mutters before tossing the remote back on the bed and lying back, and you watch her, sitting up straighter against the headboard before glancing at the window. It's closed and locked and you kind of want to open it because the way the sun is hitting it is making your room all hot and humid but Sam is stretched out on your bed, her hair tickling your knee, and it's hard to find the inspiration to move right now. "And I don't think I thanked you for clobbering that guy, so thanks."
Sam rolls onto her stomach, looking up at you, and you're blushing for reasons you're not even sure of. "You're welcome, Sam."
She grins at you then, edging quickly up your body until she's straddling your thighs and your hands flutter at her waist nervously. "So we should talk about something."
For a moment you think it's about the sex that happened but you guys seem to be on the same page about that, and since that night on the couch both of you have used every available opportunity to kiss and grope and fool around. Frankly, you're surprised that either of you have clothes on right now, that your not in the middle of fumbling towards your second sexual encounter.
It has to be about the other thing.
"Talk about what?"
"The biting thing," she says like its obvious, and it kind of is.
"Oh…That…" You squirm under her weight a little and Sam rolls her eyes, folding her arms over her chest.
"Yeah, that." She takes a slow breath, glancing at your bedroom door which is shut and locked before resting on you again. "So…you'd want me to do that to you?"
You stop moving then, resting your head against the head board. "…Yeah. I guess…If you wanted to."
"Aren't you afraid of it hurting?" she asks, arms dropping slowly, and you shrug the best you can while the TV drones on in the background.
"Not really," you start. "I just want to see what its like. Maybe it's like a weird fetish or something."
There's silence then and you play with a loose thread in Sam's shirt while you listen to her breathe.
"I want to…to do that to you," she starts hesitantly, and your heart is pounding in your ears so suddenly that your head swims.
"Okay," you croak stupidly and Sam looks a little uncomfortable, watching you through blonde hair.
There's more awkward silence and you clear your throat.
"Well?" you breathe, gesturing at her mouth, and she rolls her eyes.
"I can't just get them to come out. I don't have that kind of control," Sam mutters.
"Oh," you breathe dumbly, then, "Oh!" when it clicks in your head, and Sam is shaking her head while you grin up at her. "They need to be coaxed out?"
"Yeah, something like that."
Its 15 minutes later when you become aware of the scrape of her fangs against your lip and they may have been present for a while but you were too focused on Sam and heat and her thighs shaking against your wrist.
"Where do you want me to do it?" Sam rasps as she flips you onto your back, and god, you don't even care right now because Sam's fangs are glistening and everything is damp and sweaty and when you drag your sticky fingers across Sam's skin she trembles.
"Anywhere," you swallow before Sam leans down to kiss you softly before moving off to kiss your throat, sucking on the skin there before sliding to the juncture of you neck and shoulder, and you tangle your fingers in Sam's soft hair.
Your breath catches at the feel of her teeth, points digging into your skin without breaking the surface, and you press up against Sam's weight.
"You sure?" Sam breathes, pulling back and all you can do is nod because your voice is completely gone.
And then she's biting you, and it hurts.
It hurts a lot, and all you can do is cry out and squirm as pain blossoms, but then there's something else, something not painful at all that's dragging through your body when Sam sucks.
Your fingers dig hard into Sam's skin, and you don't know if you want to push Sam away or drag her closer.
Her tongue laps against your skin eagerly, and the feeling is almost blindingly good, makes you shift and arch against her mouth.
Sam pulls back a little and you can feel blood flowing freely from the wound at your shoulder, probably onto the sheets, while Sam murmurs something you don't understand before leaning down to sink her teeth in again.
This time you make this sound between your clenched teeth and it definitely still hurts, but the pull of something else is tight through your entire body, and everything is bleary and hot and you don't even realize that you're pushing up against Sam's hips, wrapping your legs around her and grinding. Building that feeling rushing through you until your there, shuddering so hard that you can't even make a sound.
It feels like it takes forever to come back to yourself, and you figure that blood loss plays a pretty big role in the way that everything is fuzzy and out of focus.
"Are you okay?" Sam asks, drawing back, and you realize dimly that Sam's mouth is red from your blood, and you nod, licking your lips.
Sam slides to your side, stretching out on her back completely naked, and if you could move you'd definitely be more appreciative of it but your body feels slow and lethargic and good.
"Are you?" you croak, and Sam makes a weak sound and when you glance at her, her eyes are bleary and her mouth is full of normal, blunt teeth.
"Never been better," she smiles weakly.
You inch your hand against the sheets, moving to snag Sam's and hold on tight and you feel like you could stay like this forever.