In the Still of the Night
Sam x Female!Reader
Summary: This is a request about a sexual assault survivor who’s struggling to rebuild her intimate relationship. There’s a little smut, a lot of love and a whole bunch of supportive Sam.
>>Trigger Warning<<: This story deals with the trauma of sexual assault/rape.
It’s warm summer evening and the bedroom window is open as a breeze dances past the curtains. There’s a symphony of crickets playing beneath your window ledge, making music under the fat moon hanging high in the night sky. The only light in the room is the faint glow of a candle, the flame fluttering as the wick burns low.
You’re on your back staring at the textured dimples of the popcorn ceiling, a remnant left over from the seventies. It helps if you keep your eyes open. You breathe in deep through your mouth and back out your nose, concentrating on the feeling of Sam’s tongue moving rhythmically over your clit. His hands grip your thighs, holding you open as he sucks and flicks you closer and closer to orgasm.
“Sam,” you moan, looking down at the top if his head, watching him bob with small movement. He groans in response, making a sound like you’re his last meal as his mouth seals over your clit, sucking another whimper out of you. You’re almost there now and it’s time, finally. “Sam,” you run your hand through his hair, getting his attention. “Fuck me.”
He looks up, hesitating only a moment before crawling between your legs. His cock is thick and hard, poking your thigh as he settles. He double checks, pleased to find you watching where he’s lined himself up with your cunt, pushing forward as he slips inside.
It’s been seven months.
He slides forward, his cock stretching you, the sensation almost as good as the first time you had sex. He’s long and wide and wonderfully hard inside where you’re tight and slick. It’s a perfect combination of sensations.
Sam starts to move, rocking forward propped up on his forearms, his face hovering above you with his eyes clamped shut. “That feels good,” you moan, bucking up to meet his movements, encouraging him to move faster and harder as the sway of his hips turns into thrusts that make the light slapping sound of skin meeting skin.
“So good,” he grunts, reaching down to wrap one of your legs around his waist.
Everything feels amazing, until you close your eyes. It’s instinct, the building pleasure makes your eyes flutter shut as your neck falls back. It’s only a moment, but the panic rises quickly. When you open your eyes, his head is dropped into the bend of your neck and you can’t see his face.
And then it’s not Sam at all, it’s someone else.
“Sam stop,” you whisper pushing at his biceps, the tightness building in your chest.
He stops on command, freezing in place before pulling out and rolling off you. You throw an arm over your face. “I’m sorry I just, I thought I could….I can’t.”
“Don’t apologize,” Sam shifts onto his side, setting himself up on an arm. His free hand tentatively comes to rest on your stomach and you flinch.
“Jesus, I’m fucking broken…” you say, dropping your arm from your face you look to him. You take his hand and place it on your belly, covering it with your own. “I swear to God, I do like it when you touch me.”
“It’s okay,” he bites his bottom lip, looking down at you with gentle affection. “Tonight wasn’t the night. It’s alright baby, we’ll get there.”
“I just want it to be like it used to.” You look at him, remembering a time everything seemed so effortless. Sex was fun and sometimes rough and always satisfying. But that was before, now it’s an exercise in concentration. “What if it’s year before I can get there, what it’s two or three.”
“What if it’s ten? I don’t care.” He shakes his head. “I get why you’re frustrated and I can’t even begin to understand what you’re going through. But I don’t need sex to be with you, I certainly don’t need it to be in love with you.”
“I don’t understand what’s going on in my own head. I love you so much and I can’t fuck you without seeing someone else’s face. How can that not bother you?” A tear slips down your cheeks, frustration bubbling over.
“Because what happened wasn’t your fault and it in no way changed how I think of you.” He moves his hand to your face, wiping a tear away with his thumb. “You’re gonna have good days and bad days, and I’m gonna be here for all of them. You’re not alone in this, I’m here and I’m not leaving.”
“Sometimes I hate myself, I don’t know how you can still want me,” you confess. These are all things you’ve been working through with your therapist, you just wish the healing process could move a little faster.
“That’s why I love you enough for both of us right now. You’ll find your way back but it’s going to take time. I’ll be here picking up the slack while you’re workin’ on things.” He runs his fingers through the hair at at your temple; everything these days is soft and slow.
“You know I love you right?” You blink back tears trying not to cry again.
“I do.” He picks up your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips. “I love you too.”
“I wish I hadn’t ruined our night,” you sigh, rolling on your side to face him. Talking helps to the calm the beast in your belly; Sam soothes your anxiety in a way that nothing else does.
“Who said the night’s over? Come on, you take a shower and I’ll make you some of that disgusting herbal tea you love, maybe we can a find a movie.” He sits up, tugging on your wrists, bringing you with him.
“I could watch a movie,” you agree, following him out of the bedroom.
It’s not that everything is magically healed or that Sam somehow satisfies the void that you’re struggling to fill…but he helps. Every word, every time he doesn’t question your reaction and just accepts how you feel, it make things just a little better. One moment, one night, at a time.
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