right so everybody he'd every thought negatively about when talking about their first kiss and how magical it was? yeah, fuck him, cause it was spectacular and he owed an apology to a great deal of people he'd silently judged.

holy fuck.

sam's body felt like it was experiencing some kind of tidal wave. one after another. constant waves of goosebumps breaking just as their kiss did. it had deepened and he'd nearly lost himself in it.

the kiss broken, he's slow to open his eyes, tongue licking strawberry and vodka from his lips with the goofiest of smiles that he's never shown another soul.

he's never felt this way. not with anybody. not even with himself. how was knox doing this to him with just one kiss?

and then he's grinning at sam like some kind of cocky asshole...but sam's slowly smirking right back. if knox didn't want to say anything, then sam wouldn't. instead, he raised a hand up to place his thumb on knox' chin, pulling it down a bit before kissing his bottom lip, then his top, and then finally turning his head enough and letting knox' chin go from it's captive state to kiss him again.

that's it, kissing was officially fun... with knox. sam still had zero desire to kiss anybody else, but he was starting to figure out that knox was his own personal drug and he was just fine with that.

knox prescott

it is different. it is different. and it's this revelation that makes it all the more terrifying. but it also makes it all the more irresistible. he'll have time tomorrow to stress about it and - no, fuck, he's not thinking about that now. he can't think about it now, literally, because sam is matching his smirk and is coming back in to pull him under. 

a thrill rushes through him as sam takes over. curiosity has him with his eyes half-open, watching the tilt to sam's face as he turns, but when he waits for more there is nothing forthcoming.

knox wedges his leg between sam's own - he rips away their space, shivering as their bare chests touch. the door makes a noise in its threshold as knox pushes sam against it, trapping him. 

he kisses the corner of his mouth, the side of his jaw, following the line of sam's tattoos down to his neck, his collarbone, the soft skin between there and his shoulder. he suckles gently (a hickey, knox? really?). 

the lights shift from purple to a deep sea blue.

samuel carter

☉

if the lights have switched colors sam's unable to tell. his eyes are closed and he still feels blind. but a good sort of blind. like when it's too bright in the morning and you choose to keep your eyes closed, for just a little longer, to enjoy the darkness.

a sharp inhale leaves his lips parted as he pushed against the door. he doesn't even attempt to kiss knox back as he is left at the mercy of explorative lips. he sturdies himself with one hand against the door, the other pulling knox by the hip closer. to ensure they do not part, to ensure there is not space between them.

because the friction is good. it's tinting sam's cheeks a bit, because he's rarely ever felt this way in secret let alone with somebody else. but if it were to be anybody else, he's damn glad it's knox.

it's perfect that it's knox.

and to embarrass himself further, as knox settles on a soft spot of his neck, sam lets out a shaky and excited breath, which ends in a light and subtle moan.

knox prescott

the comedown is easier when he's with someone. the coke has faded and usually it leaves him with snapping fingers, ready for the next hit, but he is hypnotized here, exploring sam's body like it's the first he's ever felt. 

his fingers curl on the door. sam's moan makes him shiver and he turns his hips, tongue trailing as his kisses get sloppier. he teethes at his collarbone, suckles his way down to the nape of his belly as his trembling legs fold. fingernails scratch at the door as he drops, hands finding sam's either side of sam's hips, curling under the hem of his underwear. 

i want to kiss you. i want to hold you. 

he opens his eyes again, really opens them (hello, there gorgeous) and folds his knees, sitting back, breathing hard. he drops his hands, holds his own throat, his heart while his senses come back to him. because whether sam knows it or not, he'd drawn a line in the sand, and knox won't cross it until he's ready.

"i was scared," knox says suddenly. "i want it too. all of it." he takes sam's hand and kisses his knuckles. and i'm still scared you'll be gone when i wake.

samuel carter

☉

it felt selfish. it was like he was being worshiped. it made him anxious and excited. each kiss, sloppy or otherwise, spurred sam to want more. it was an overload, but the good kind. the kind that made him throb in ways he'd never felt before.

he tried to repay how he could. fingernails along knox' skin, fingertips tangling in obnoxiously colored hair. he tried to hold knox close to him, but distance is created. why?

he's developing a habit, because he follows. like gravity is causing him to remain as close to knox as possible. perhaps he's just craving more, or maybe he doesn't want to lose what he's finding to be blindingly the only important thing to him.

the kiss to his knuckles as sam smiling. his eyes find knox' and he looks between them for a moment, until they leave his view. slowly he bends, his turn to lower himself before knox. he returns the kiss of knuckles, trailing it to the back of his hand.

then he moves up a bit, taking knox slowly by the jaw to give him a kiss--if allowed. it's soft, gentle, and more a reassurance than it is something to provoke whatever had possessed knox and caused him to shove sam against a wall. though the cryptkeeper wouldn't mind if it happened again...andagainandagain.

"so why hesitate? do you want permission? because you have it. you've had it since the moment we kissed." but knox knew that, he had to have, didn't he? "what's making you so scared?"

best to address it now, than to have knox getting into his head and fleeing again.

"as much as i wish i could, i can't read your mind... you have to talk to me, let me into that head of yours, so you're not fighting internal battles alone."

knox prescott

he melts into the kiss. it makes him want to wrap his arms around sam, pull him down and let gravity do the work for him. but he stays his hands, still warm from sam's kisses. do you want permission. yes. you've had it since the moment we kissed. oh. there is a sinking feeling in his chest, a reinforcement that this/that would be all it is, but sam belays his worries with his murmurs. 

he holds sam's hand against his own cheek. "i have slept with a lot of men," he says. there's no regret in his voice, neither any embarrassment. because his point is, "and most of them were flings, one-night-stands, but i don't want . . . that with you."

he sighs. "and as much as my dick is saying otherwise, i don't want to rush this. i want you to be different." his nose crinkles. "ugh, i sound like a virgin in some shitty high school romcom."

samuel carter

☉

sam gladly caressed the face that rested in his hand. his thumb slowly caressing the glitter covered cheek. soft, pale, shimmering, and beautiful.

the information given wasn't necessarily a shock. sam's a judgmental creature, and knox is beautiful. he figured knox had his way with anybody he wanted. he also figured, with the way knox was constantly running away, that perhaps he'd been with quite a few. perhaps sam just hadn't been enough-- but in truth?

sam had, apparently, been just right. and while sam had come to terms with knox being just right for him, knox was struggling with finding the courage to accept that he was worthy of sam's affections.

"i do not want to be a fling... i'd also like this to go full swing into a relationship..." sam's brows furrowed as he thought about that a moment. "i don't want to rush it either...but it doesn't feel rushed, if you're willing to accept my offer."

what offer? the one he was about to give, on one knee, with knox' face in his hand and his other hand on knox' arm.

"will you be my official boyfriend?" instead of waiting for an answer, sam explained his intentions with the title. "i want to be with you when you wake after we've made love. i want to be the one that fights those inner demons with you. i want to see a preview of what forever might be like with you."

knox prescott

his mind and his heart are both racing because suddenly this is becoming Too Real. the caress turns into sam getting on one knee - whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck - but before he can squeak the courage to tell him not to fucking propose to him, sam throws him a softball instead of a cannonball. 

possibilities explode before him; iron bars descend around him, making him claustrophobic, because there's nothing more binding than promises. and knox is still rapidly descending from his place in the clouds and soon enough he's gonna hit the ground at breakneck speeds. 

and even though his immediate response is a knee-jerk reaction, an instant no, he holds his tongue. and he does sam the service of actually processing what he's feeling instead of flying off the handle in typical knox fashion^tm.

it doesn't feel rushed, if you're willing to accept my offer. is that truly the only thing holding them back? he's not an idiot. he knows there's chemistry between them and gods if he doesn't want to explore all of it right fucking now with sam, but so much is happening and he's not used to feeling this way, feeling this weight. 

he softens - quite literally, too - and then nods. he doesn't know what 'boyfriend' means to sam, but he's sure the boy has no clue what it means for knox, and what it means when he says, "yes. yes, i will."

samuel carter

☉

the smile that blossoms over sam's face is one that sam can't even explain. he doesn't bother, he just let's it spread. let's it hurt his cheeks. because knox said yes. and sam found he had wanted knox to say yes. he wasn't sure who he would have become if knox had said no.

but he's elated that he said yes, and he shows as much by moving up enough to give knox a quick kiss, speaking against his lips with a cheeky sort of smirk.

"hm? what was that? you said, you wanna be my boyfriend?"

he's just being playful, because now he's back to feeling like he's in the clouds. and he didn't need a substance along his gums-- just knox.

knox prescott

oh shit oh fuck did you just say yes? did you just agree to a life of monogamy so you can feel better about fucking him? like it's more than that - ok, sure, bud - but is it worth it? 

he's dealing with his dumpster fire trainwrecked brain while sam shoots off to fairyland. it takes everything inside of knox not to let the surge of emotions reach his eyes and he's just starting to grasp the reins on them and pull them back when sam teasingly says that and he fucking flinches. 

if he says anything, it's going to break this, so he moves quickly, closing his eyes and grabbing sam's arms and pulling him on top of himself as he falls back. his movements are a bit rougher now, more desperate, because despite the kisses and sam's hot, mostly-naked body on top of him, the thing between his legs gives him away. 

now? fucking - think about the kiss and that moan and his skin and, oh, come on.

he makes a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. 

samuel carter

☉

the roughness is new. it's not disliked, but partnered with the grunt, sam leans back and breaks the kiss.

he's hovering above knox, concern in his eyes. knox wants this, but he doesn't. he wonders... oh yes, that text conversation. perhaps his lack of sobriety had taken him too far. he frowns, slowly and softly. it's not a frown of disappointment it's a frown of apology.

"i took it too far again, with the shelved 'r word,' didn't i?" now it's sam's turn to groan, forehead falling onto knox's chest as his hips relax and he puts some weight on knox' thighs. "i'm sorry... i even used the 'b word.'"

he feels like a toddler using such words, or a pre-teen, but either way, he leans up with determined brows.

"just sam and knox. no labels, no titles."

knox had said to say what he wanted, and truth was ... "i just want you, knox. it doesn't have to have a title. and because it doesn't have at title, we can mold it into whatever we want."

he gives them both freedom, or attempts to, with a content and just as elated smile as before.

knox prescott

the concern is unwarranted and more than that, it's completely undeserved. because knox is a liar with a big mouth who's a bit tipsy and still seeing colors all the wrong ways. his head spins a bit as the comedown starts to catch up to him and he's glad his back is already flush against the floor. 

"but that's obviously what you want," he says, exasperated. 

no labels sounds nice. and my knox, your sam sounds so lovely in his head. and it's easier to give into that than it is to give into binding ties and all the responsibility that follows thereafter. 

"i want you," he says firmly. "and that's all that makes sense right now."

samuel carter

☉

"...it's all i know to want," and this is the part that causes sam to be concerned, causes sam to want to shut the fuck up and not be brutally honest. for once, he's thinking before he speaks. for once, he's worried the truth might hurt.

for once, he thinks about lying, instead of being honest.

but he rights his moral compass after a few contemplative seconds. "i've never done this before, knox. i've never ... had a knox, let alone a boyfriend, or a lover."

and there it is, the atom bomb. sam's heart rate is quick and his chest rattles against the throbbing anxeity. the worry, the paranoia.

"so i'm just fine with only having a knox, and figuring out what that means. i don't need a boyfriend, and i certainly didn't want one. but i need you, i want you. i want my knox."

and that's sam carter giving the finger to labels, ladies and gentlemen.

knox prescott