Chris gaped at him, his heart pounding again.  They hadn't tried that since Tennessee.  He'd wanted to but they'd barely been able to spend any quality time together since then.  And while he hadn't thought Sam would be entirely averse to the idea, he had believed that his lover would need more time to get used to the idea, to actually admit to himself that he enjoyed it, and that he wanted more.  Yet here was Sam asking, almost begging for a repetition, and Chris was more than happy to oblige.  Some vague thought about gift horses flitted through his mind, driven out almost immediately by the sudden rush of heat to his groin.  The surge of arousal had him struggling to breathe.

Then the doorbell rang.  Unbelievable.  He was tempted to ignore it, but he had a sinking feeling it wouldn't go away.  "Shit," he growled.  "Hold onto that thought."  He dragged Sam's face down for another kiss and then eased himself out from underneath his partner.  "I'll be right back," he promised.

He was true to his word, turning the pizza delivery girl away with a large tip to hurry along the formalities and ignoring her giggles at his state of undress, before bounding back up the stairs.  He flung the pizza box down onto the coffee table, and stalked towards where Sam lay sprawled on the couch, naked intent in his eyes.

"What about the pizza?" teased Sam.

"Fuck the pizza."

Sam smirked.  "I thought you were going to fuck something else," he shot back.  The comment had the remarkable effect of rendering Chris incapable of more than a grunt.  Sam had obviously been busy while he'd been paying for the pizza, he noticed.  There was a packet of condoms and a tube of lubricant on the coffee table.  Sam followed his eyes, and shrugged slightly.  "I want you now," he said simply in answer to the unspoken question.  Another burst of sheer lust went through the American, but this time he found his voice.

"What happened to work first?"  Sam met his eyes for a long moment, and then shrugged again, sitting back up to peer over the back of the couch.

"If you insist," he said coolly, then 'oofed' as a rugby tackle from his partner drove the air out of him.  He couldn't help it.  He started to laugh, as much from happiness as the absurdity of the situation, lying there half naked, pinned to the couch by his obviously aroused partner.  Chris sat up, quirking his eyebrow at him as he continued to snicker, his expression a little put out.  Sam got himself back under control with a Herculean effort, but his eyes shone with a mixture of amusement and affection, and after a second's pouting Chris smiled back.

"You're beautiful, you know?" Chris stated calmly, the unexpected comment knocking Sam for six.  "I've always thought that if I was a painter, I'd paint you."  Sam just stared at him, speechless.  The amusement was gone from his eyes, replaced by that same familiar flicker, only this time it lasted long enough for Chris to recognise it for what it was - vulnerability.  The realisation sent a shiver through him, making him feel strangely powerful for an instant.  "You're beautiful," he reiterated, his voice low and intense.  "And you're mine."

"Yes," breathed Sam, reaching up to grab Chris' head and pull him down for another kiss.

"I think you're wearing too many clothes," panted Chris when he finally drew back.

"I think we both are."  Sam had a point, and Chris sat up once more, straddling Sam's thighs as he began pushing Sam's shirt off his partner's shoulders.  Sam raised himself up on his elbows to help him.  "How do you want to do this?" he asked.  Chris paused, giving the question due consideration.

"Hands and knees," he said eventually, his voice thoughtful.  "Easier on you that way."  A brief hesitation then Sam nodded a little reluctantly.  "Better this way," soothed Chris.

"I know," replied Sam with a brief mirthless laugh.  "It's just...  It makes me feel a little... vulnerable I suppose," he continued.  "Not that I don't trust you," he added hastily, heading off the frown forming on Chris' face.  "It's just..."  His voice trailed off, and he shrugged, smiling wryly at Chris.

"I know," answered Chris, and in a way he did, although he did wonder why Sam would assume that he didn't have those same feelings of exciting unease when their positions were reversed.  "I won't hurt you...  Well, not much.  It's going to be uncomfortable the first few times."

"I noticed," commented Sam dryly.  Chris flashed him a quick smile.

"This way won't hurt as much, I promise."  He hesitated, before his innate sense of honour made him offer Sam a way out.  "We don't have to do this, Sam..."

"Stop now and I may be forced to shoot you."  That earned Sam another smile, and then Chris leant down again until his face was just inches from Sam's.

"It will get better," he breathed.  "And when it does..." he continued, punctuating each phrase with a feather light kiss brushed against Sam's face. "When it does, we can do this any way you want.  Face to face.  So I can see you.  Watch your face when I come inside you." He watched Sam's pupils dilate at his words, and felt the shudder that ran through the Englishman.  His own body reacted to Sam's and he pressed himself against the other man as he kissed him deeply again, drinking in his taste.

"I'm going to hold you to that," said Sam when they finally drew apart.  His voice was husky, and his eyes languid.  Any unease he had been feeling had obviously been eliminated by Chris' words, and he lifted his hips towards the American, an invitation to remove the last barriers between them.

Chris picked up on this unspoken cue, pulling Curtis' jeans off with practiced grace, before standing to remove his own remaining clothing while Sam shrugged out of the rest of his.  In a matter of moments it was skin against skin, Sam sighing happily into his shoulder as he settled against him.  However, their arousal had been neglected for too long, and after one more kiss Chris started to move down Sam's body, snagging the tube of lubricant as he did so.  Sam started to shift underneath him, rolling onto his front until Chris placed a hand firmly on his hip and stopped him.  Sam frowned at him, confused.

"Impatient aren't you?" smiled Chris.  Sam gave him an amused look, and gestured to his erection.

"What do you think?"

"I've got to get you ready first," Chris explained.  "No reason we can't do that like this."  Sam acquiesced, settling onto his back and letting Chris raise one of his legs so that it was draped up onto the back of the sofa, allowing Chris access.

Chris drew it out as long as he could, able to ignore his own urgent arousal if it meant he could increase Sam's.  He placed Sam's other leg over his shoulder and bent to his task, circling his finger around and over the puckered entrance to Sam's body, feeling his partner squirm with mingled arousal and sensitivity.  He blew heavily over Sam's erection, before laving the underside with his tongue, and raising his head to flick his tongue over the corona.  Sam was moaning softly at the sensation, his moans turning to a gasp as Chris opened his mouth and slid the end of Sam's cock in.  His finger mimicked the action, sliding into Sam's body as Chris slid more of him into his mouth.

One finger became two as Chris concentrated on loosening Sam, scissoring his fingers and making the Englishman ready for him.  He maintained a steady, sucking pressure on Sam's erection, driving him closer and closer to the edge.  When he felt that Sam was ready, two fingers became three, and he scraped his nail over his lover's prostate.  Sam bucked at the sensation, driving more of himself down the American's throat, a low keening sound driven from his own throat.  Chris felt a sharp, painful tugging on his hair as Sam attempted to pull him loose.  He raised his head, meeting Sam's wide, wild eyes, Sam's cock still in his mouth.

"Too close," Sam growled out warningly.  "Chris..."

Chris released him briefly.  "Trust me," he said.  "Let go Sam."  Then he sucked Sam back into his mouth, enjoying the Englishman's shocked cry.  Sam began moaning his name over and over as Chris nudged the tip of a fourth finger into him.  Once more he scraped his fingertips over Sam's prostate, this time deep-throating his partner and sucking hard.  It was enough.  Sam came hard, his lover's name on his lips.

Chris released him and pulled himself up Sam's body, reaching down to kiss the Englishman again and share his taste with him.  He pulled back to stare down into his lover's still dazed eyes.  "Roll over, love," he said softly.  Sam complied, still dazed from his orgasm, his movements sluggish.  Chris gently pushed his thighs up underneath his body, spreading him as wide as possible before reaching for a condom and tearing the wrapper off with his teeth.  He rolled it onto himself with quick, slick movements and smeared himself with ample amounts of lubricant, before positioning himself at the entrance to Sam's body.  "Beautiful," he sighed again, running one hand down Sam's back.  "Love you," he whispered as he began easing his way into his lover's tight heat.

He took his time this time, determined to minimise Sam's discomfort.  His thrusts were slow and careful, each a little deeper than the one before, and while one hand held onto Sam's hip to hold the other man steady against his invasion, the other roamed over Sam's body, stroking lightly over his skin as he pressed gentle kisses against Sam's shoulder.  Eventually he was buried to the hilt in his lover's body, and he stayed there, giving Sam time to adjust to his girth.  When Sam moved back slightly against him, he took this as a sign that the other man was ready, and resumed his slow, careful thrusting.  After a long moment, Sam spoke, his tone ragged and a little impatient.

"I'm not going to break, Chris.  I'm not made of glass."

"Sure?"

"If I decide otherwise I'll be sure to let you know.  Probably loudly."

Chris had his doubts about that but kept his silence.  Instead he moved his free hand to Sam's other hip, grasping him firmly and surging into him.  Sam gasped, but pushed back into his thrust.  A few more movements, and then Sam moved his hands up onto the arm of the sofa, bracing himself against it and using the leverage it provided to push back even harder into him.  Chris gave himself over to the pounding rhythm they were setting, reassured that Sam did indeed want it hard and fast.  A second later Sam confirmed this by reaching back and grabbing one of Chris' hands from his hip, moving it to his renewed erection before bracing himself against the sofa again.  Chris picked up on the hint, stroking Sam's cock in time to his thrusts into Sam's body.  He angled each movement to strike Sam's prostate, once more pushing his lover towards climax.

Sam's sighs and moans became more ragged, mixed in with the odd curse word when Chris hit the exact spot.  Occasionally a muttered expression of love would pass his lips too, but given that they were said in the heat of passion Chris decided not to hold it against him.  Finally, Sam threw back his head and cried out his name again, spilling his seed over Chris' hand.  The convulsions of his lover's body around his own hardness dragged Chris over the edge too, and he pulsed into Sam's tight heat, crying out his own love.  For a second they swayed in position, and then Chris collapsed on top of Sam, pushing him down into the soft cushions of the sofa.

When Chris had recovered slightly and got his breath back, he eased himself out of Sam, relieved that this time there was no evidence of blood on the condom.  He peeled it off and then settled himself behind Sam, pulling the Englishman against him so that they lay spooned together, Sam's back against his chest.  "I like this couch," he murmured into Sam's hair.

"Hmm-mm."

"Nice and big."

"S'why I got it."  There was a slight pause before Sam added conversationally, "I haven't had sex on a sofa since I was nineteen."

"Lot of catching up to do then."

"I guess so."

There was such an air of smugness in that phrase that Chris had to laugh.  "Love you," he said again, kissing Sam's shoulder.

"So you said," muttered Sam.  "Personally, I think that if you really loved me, you'd be the one lying in the wet patch."  Chris laughed again.

"Come on," he said, pulling his partner up into a sitting position before reaching back and flipping the sofa cushion over.  "Ta da," he said.  "Problem solved."

"I knew you'd have your uses," replied Sam sleepily, sinking back down onto the sofa, and reaching up to pull Chris down with him.  Chris pillowed his head on Sam's shoulder, throwing his arm over his lover's waist and his leg over Sam's.  It was an unashamed cuddle, and he didn't feel the need to apologise for it, not now, not when his nerves were almost singing with contentment.

"Guess we should do some work," yawned Sam, squeezing Chris slightly, cuddling him back.

"Guess so," replied Chris.  Neither man made a move.

"Sod it," said Sam uncharacteristically.  "We can read it on the plane."

"Guess so," agreed Chris pleasantly, snuggling up again just to feel Sam's arms wrap more tightly around him.  Pressed against Sam's body he could feel when the other man gave up the unequal struggle and drifted into sleep, his body relaxing and his breathing evening out.

Chris had waited five months, one week and five days to hear that his partner returned his feelings.  As he lay there in the warm afterglow of their lovemaking, slowly sliding towards sleep himself, he was beginning to think that he would have waited a lifetime.