the hand over his solidifies sam into reality and not into the 'what if' moments he had conjured in his head. his eyes turn to knox' and he settles. they're soft, serious.

releasing the item from his hand, he twists his palm and takes knox' hand in his own. he brings the knuckles up and gives them a kiss, then caresses them with his thumb.

"revisit it we shall...but knox, i also want this to be about you. us. partnerships are about equality, it's two working together, and just because it will be my first time with anybody doesn't outshine the fact that it will be your first time with me."

and hopefully, last time with anybody else... but he doesn't voice that. because it's possessive, and it's not fair. if knox wants somebody else... sam should be okay with that, shouldn't he? he's not sure. knox did say boyfriend... didn't he?

he'd ask later.

knox prescott

make it about sam and it's no holds barred. make it about sam and at the end of the day, the goal will have been met. it will be easy. it will be perfect, because he won't be thinking about the 'them,' about the 'what this means for us' and about how it's more than just a drunken fling. 

there's build-up. there's anticipation. 

he's not used to knowing his partner's favorite way they drink their coffee, or that elevators scare the bejeezus out of them, or the dozen and one other facts that pop into his mind when sam speaks with soft affirmation.

his mouth goes dry. this is about them and this first time will trickle into the rest of their relationship. hell, it could make or break their relationship, because sam has said he's never had anything remotely close to a sexual urge before meeting sam. 

and knox still isn't convinced this is really going to 'do it' for him, bonus stage or not. would he be okay with a life of celibacy? for sam's sake? (absolutely not.)

"you're...right," he says. he touches his cheek, looks past him at the clerk who has most definitely stopped reading to cast sideways glances at them and enjoy the show. 

samuel carter

☉

knox is thinking so much. sam can nearly feel the thoughts, like static; tension that's pliable. he wonders ... should he just ... get knox' mind off of all the what ifs and maybes? should he-- hm.

yes, yes i should.

he takes the tubes from knox' hand and sets them aside, noticing the way sam's eyeing the counter. sam doesn't care if somebody sees. let the whole world see. if there is one thing sam knows for damn sure, it is that he is not ashamed of knox, and he isn't sure that he ever will be.

the face in his hands, he gives it a kiss. then he moves his hands down, to knox' waist, to caress and hold knox close. the kiss is not gentle, but it's not rough. passionate; because sam is trying his damnedest to show, in action, just how much he wants knox.

because he's not very good at communicating that with words, so he'll communicate with actions instead.

once the kiss breaks, a beautiful click with a bit more spit than sam had even expected, sam looks between his eyes and holds his face with one hand still.

"shut your brain up."

knox prescott

this, he understands. sam could tell him all day and any day that this is about them, that it's about more than them, but this here, with their lips pressed together, further still when they're not because sam is parting them, exploring him, tasting him right in the middle of this store with a store clerk who more than definitely looks forward to this part of his job the most. 

but he can't focus on that because his brain is zeroing in on the sweet taste of the fruit lingering on sam's tongue, of the brown sugar from the granola he'd eaten, the coffee still on his breath. 

his nerves tingle, sparkling, and he melts back into that abstract space, distances himself so he can stop thinking and just feel. 

and when sam draws back and says that, knox just opens his mouth while his brain tries to catch up. he reaches for the wad of cash in his back pocket and hands the funds over to sam, and then looks past him to the register. 

"now."

samuel carter

☉

the cash has sam back to blinking awkwardly and then he hears knox' tone. that almost desperate tone? there is a revelation that has sam's midsection just as hot and bothered as knox'.

he liked it.

with that, he makes his way over and sets the items down, sets the money down, makes direct eye contact with the clerk like it's no big deal and promptly gives him a polite smile. despite that, his brows are raised as he smiles, and his fingers tapp impatiently on the counter while he puts his fingers into his pocket to stroke over his gardevoir's capsule.

"it's fifteen pokédollars change back." sam instructs, deciding the computer wouldn't be fast enough. he glances at knox.

"would you rather get a hotel room here so you don't have to deal with teleportation sickness?"

as the cash is handed back to sam, he takes the back and holds the change out for knox to take, the clerk doesn't exist.

knox prescott

and then he just jsakfldj walks away from him and jaksdlfjs talks like a motherfucking boss ass daddy to the clerk ajdskflja and knox could really just take him right there because jskdfalj honestly all they'd ever need is in this fucking room. and fuck, sam's looking at him again and then he says that and knox's brain is like, 

yes, yes, yes. go, go, go. 

but the sane part, the rational part, dwindling as it may be, is squeaking out different, different, different. that stupid mantra that's helped bring their fucked up whatever it is to fruition. and he knows he can't do the hotel/motel bit. they can't do that. it's stupid, but he can't. 

and he won't think more on it because sam told his brain to shut up. 

transaction complete, knox reaches for sam's waistband. and the clerk is watching this and he's probably thinking fuck yeah, is this really happening? but knox's hand goes past sam's front, to his side hip, where he keeps his gardevoir's ball clipped. 

she emerges, assesses the scene, and knox doesn't know if it's his own mental thought or sam's, but all he knows is he's winking to the clerk and blowing a kiss and then the world disappears out from under him and reappears just as quickly. 

he spins away from sam with a grimace and waves a hand. "ugh, give me a minute. get the boxes. the stuff. i gotta brush my teeth." he disappears into the bathroom and closes it behind him. 

samuel carter

☉

sam watched knox flirt with the clerk. he didn't hate it. it was cute. knox was cute. sam didn't care about the clerk. he only remembered what the clerk looked like because his brain worked like a computer, keeping information even if he didn't need it to.

not because he'd put effort into remember the clerk.

all that mattered was knox, who twisted and moved into the bathroom after giving him instruction. he glance down at himself, then at the bag, then watched as his gardevoir excused herself back into her capsule.

"...right, boxes."

his brain kicked in and he started to get the stuff ready. but how? what did he do? he peeled the little piece of film off and set them down next to the bed on the small bedside table that sam kept his journal and his charger on. then he glanced at the bed, shifted to make it, ish, and then walked backwards away from it for a moment.

he tapped his thighs, then breathed into his hand to smell his breath. coffee?

he made his way over to the sink and pulled out the spare toothbrush and toothpaste that he had as his back ups to his own in the bathroom and began brushing his own teeth, quickly.

after that, he pulled the hoodie and shirt off that was on his chest, then stopped with it on his arms.

wait, what if he wants to remove that himself?

so he pulled it back over his head and furrowed his brows, scratching at his newly disheveled hair. he did take his shoes off, then set his pokéball holster down.

and back to tapping his thighs. because what was he supposed to do for prep-

"boxes!" he scolded himself before rummaging in the laundry room where he had put them. He glanced them over, barely any instructions, before opening the items he'd gotten and setting them next to the tubes.

good. great. he did it, phew.

knox prescott

once the door is closed, he pauses. he lets himself think. he moves quickly, grabbing his toothbrush (because yes, sam had gone and gotten him a spare toothbrush and now he has his own fucking toothbrush in - nope). 

shut your brain up.

that works. 

with one hand, he goes about brushing his teeth. that water's running and that combined with the mint helps settle his stomach. but really he has the water running so he can reach around and grab the other treat captain had smuggled into his pocket. 

he pops it, opening drawers, looking for where she may have stashed another few. he ends up finding them under sam's trash can. he makes a face, but zips them in a bag and shoves them back in his pocket. 

on his way out, he glances at the mirror - he examines his teeth, his hair, the pink that still lingers on his cheeks, and the still-purple eyes, still smattered-with-bruisings nose. he makes a noise, turns the light off, and comes back out to find sam standing next to the toys as though he had wares for sale. 

and then knox laughs and he closes the distance and he draws him in closely, and he kisses him.

samuel carter

☉

the sound of the door jostled sam so much he'd jumped, and he couldn't remember the last thing something like a jump scare caught him.

usually he's the one standing in the shadows with a shovel scaring the shit out of people as they walk up the mountain. and all he usually does is ask if they need assistance.

but this, it's so different. it's not like sam's used to. there's something about the way knox laughs that has sam relaxing a little. and then his lips are on fire.

where knox needs a drug, sam doesn't. knox is the drug. the new thing. the ooh and the ahh. he's what has sam feeling colors and tasting emotions. showing thoughts and hearing actions.

his hands drag up knox' body, finding the hem of his shirt. he twists his chin a bit and kisses knox back, that kind of kiss that was a gentle reminder of a store with an audience. but now? it's only his audience of one.

his starlight, his knox.

knox prescott

he's thinking about magnesium. he usually has some handy when he comes spiraling down. something to settle the nerves. but he's coming down and he's going back up and his nerves are on fire. sam is against him, not skin on skin, not yet, and that thought, these touches, send a shudder of anticipation through him. 

he teases open sam's lips and he walks forward, keeps walking, puts his weight into sam until they're falling. things roll off the bed and onto the floor, but it's almost like he can't hear it. 

his weight sinks into sam as he runs his tongue along his teeth. he withdraws only slightly, confused, to say, "how? did you brush your teeth?"

samuel carter

☉

he's being pushed back, he's falling back on the bed. his hands are along knox' hips, then trailing up his ribs, pressing lightly but not enough to cause uncomfortable pain. just good pain, to try and test a theory.

he of all people knew that sometimes, pain was good.

but then knox draws away and sam is blinking his eyes open, mouth open, because he'd been expecting a tongue and not a question.

"spare toothbrush under the sink, in case i get locked out of my bathroom, or the one in the bathroom goes bad."

knox, you asked man. i can't tell if he's confused, impressed, or ...

he's high, and sam feels a part of himself is ... inadequate? but he forces that part of his mind into silence. that's not it. knox just needs them. like sam needs order in his life, like sam needs labels, and for a door to be open in a steamy bathroom-- knox needs the pills, he needs the high.

and sam determines that's okay.

"you don't like coffee, so... i brushed my teeth."

knox prescott

interested, but not really, he's a bit more captivated by the way sam's brows furrow. at the lilt to his lips when he speaks. his hips shifts under knox and suddenly the boy on top feels hot. so he kisses sam's nose and he kneels back up, thankful that he can move like this and not have every godsdamn movement cause him pain. 

he shrugs off his hoodie, and then his shirt. the air is cool on his warm skin and he shivers delightfully, grin crooking as he looks down at sam. sam with his slightly puffed lips from their kissing. sam with that color in his cheeks.

sam, sam, sam. my sam. 

he kisses sam's forehead, the bridge of his nose, both of his cheeks, ghosts over his lips, his chin, and nuzzles his way to his neck. he sighs over warm skin and gently kisses his neck; his hands, meanwhile, shuck up sam's (his own) hoodie, fingers splaying over his abs. 

"off," he murmurs before nipping sam's collarbone.

samuel carter

☉

knox kisses along sam's skin in ways that sam never thought would be attractive. not only are they that when knox moves along his skin, but they're arousing. the pleasure ripples along his skin and causes his chest to begin heaving, in through his nose, out through his mouth.

he tries to repay the kisses, but gives up. knox is wanting to have his way, and sam surrenders to the motions. whatever knox wants to give him, he'll accept. but that doesn't stop sam's wandering hands, and a little tilt of sam's lips as knox shifts his weight up to strip.

as the items are removed, sam's hand finds its way along ribs and bones. it's beautiful. he's beautiful... oh, now ue understands. this is what is beautiful.

he wants to tell knox he's figured it out, that he feels beautiful now, and wants to tell knox he thinks knox is beautiful as well-- but knox is back down against his body with his lips and impatiently saying he wants the hoodie removed.

so too does sam, it's suffocating and hot in the throw of whatever's between them. so he grips knox and kisses his shoulder, having worked on his neck when it was exposed to him. he pushes up, uses his hands on knox' hips to help indicate what he's doing. he sits up, with knox in his lap, and reaches behind him to pull the hoodie and shirt by the back and lifts both up and over his head.

with knox' help, the layers are gone, and his lips move to knox' ear. he wonders if this is what it would feel like to live among the stars.

"you're beautiful too, knox. like starlight."

it slipped. maybe it was the serotonin clouding his brain, but sam was thinking a hell of a lot less than normal. his focus was on the movements of their far more exposed bodies.

knox prescott