14. Sam
Chapter 14
Sam
S am sat in Silas’ room, showered and ready for bed, only a few hours after they’d returned to Silver Rapids. Yet, the last few days felt more like a dream than any reality he could believe.
His phone chimed, alerting him to a text. Smiling, Sam opened the message.
Lana
So??? Did you meet the parents? How’d it go!?
Sam
They’re upsettingly wonderful people.
That’s good, though, right? I mean, marry for love and all that bullshit, but I don’t want to deal with someone’s monster of a mother for the rest of my life.
The irony of Silas’ mother being the farthest thing from a monster-in-law was not lost on him.
Yeah, it’s good. They live in a beautiful area. There’s no one else around. We took the snowmobiles out for a few hours one day. I had a great time.
I’m so glad. Are you still happy staying with Mr. Mountain Man?
Sam’s thumbs hovered over the keyboard, unsure how to articulate what he felt.
Cozy in his pajamas and under the spell of what could be, recalling that first night with Silas and the days since felt like he was watching his life play out inside a snow globe.
In there, he was happy—more than happy—and could laugh and fall asleep next to the only person who’d ever made him feel truly safe, like he could be prickly and soft all at once and know that Silas still wanted him.
Sam had never had that before. He’d never let himself have that before.
Inside that snow globe with Jaime, Silas, and his family, he felt like he belonged. In there, he felt like Sammy.
But he wasn’t in that snow globe anymore, and nothing was more of a stark reminder than closing out of their messages, still unsure how to respond, and opening his banking app, only to find several green pending numbers glowing so brightly his eyes watered.
Or maybe he was crying.
His security deposit had been returned while they were at Cal and Meera’s house, along with the payout from his home and property insurance claim from the wreck. The most recent paycheck from his subscription account had cleared, too. It was the highest-grossing month he’d ever had.
He could pay Cain back.
Sam could demand he accept the money, forget the unfulfilled favor, and actually be free of him.
He could move to Anchorage and leave the past behind the way he’d said he would from the start. He could take his history with Cain and go, so it never touched Silas and his family and their beautiful hidden home ever again.
Except those plans didn’t make him happy. They made him hollow.
Or, you could stay. You could stay with Silas. With his family.
Sam couldn’t stay with Silas and never tell him the truth, though.
That ship had sailed the moment Silas kissed him. Or maybe it had been when he’d held Sam while he came in his arms, or when he’d made Sam laugh about cactus diarrhea, or when they’d cried together after finding out Jaime and Finn were ok, or when he’d held his arms up over his head like antlers and told Sam to please be careful around the moose…
Sam blinked away the tears filling his eyes.
Too much; there’d been too much vulnerability and intimacy and that other big four-letter word—the one Sam couldn’t bring himself to say just yet—to choose to stay with Silas and never tell the truth of what he’d done.
What matters is that we chose each other. We trusted each other—despite him. We’re stronger together.
Cal’s words bounced around in Sam’s head while he tapped out a reply to Lana, not wanting to leave her waiting.
I am happy here, just not sure about the rest. Tired from this weekend, going to get some sleep.
Her response came through quickly.
Remember what we talked about. You’re not baggage. And please let yourself be happy. Night!
Sam flicked through the dashboard of his subscription account on autopilot, thoughts of staying and leaving and what it meant to be happy, what it meant to choose Silas, on repeat.
“Are you working on your audio recordings?” Silas asked.
Sam jolted up from the edge of the bed, unsure how long Silas had stood there.
Leaning against the doorframe, his hair was still damp from the shower, and he was wearing soft, threadbare pajama bottoms with one of those sleeveless hoodies.
“Not really,” Sam answered, tracking the way Silas’ chest bunched when he crossed his arms. “Just checking on how the latest upload is performing.”
“And? Is it doing well?” Silas asked, padding over to loom in a way that was not sexy. It was just the effect of those stupid cutoff hoodies—they scrambled Sam’s brain.
Really, though, it looked even more ridiculous on him now in his half-shifted form, stretching across his massive chest and highlighting just how large his biceps were.
“ Umm… ” Sam said, trying to remember the question, head fuzzy from the way Silas’ arms flexed. Was he doing that on purpose? “Yeah, it is. The alpha ones have been blowing up.”
He clipped his mouth shut, eyes widening in realization. He had not meant to say that out loud.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck!
“Alpha?” Silas rumbled, eyes flashing, voice so low Sam could barely understand him. “Who is that? Who’s Alpha?”
Sam gulped, trying to look anywhere except at Silas. Was he jealous? Was that hot?
Who was he kidding, of course, it was hot.
“Just… it’s nothing,” he said.
“ Show me,” Silas growled, stepping closer so that Sam was forced to sit down on the bed again, head tipped back to maintain eye contact. Silas stood between his legs. “Show me who that is.”
Sam was torn between leaning away so he wasn’t distracted again by how good Silas smelled fresh out of the shower and pressing forward to bury his face in Silas’ stomach.
“It’s not someone else,” he said, fumbling with his phone to pull up the app.
As hot as Silas’ jealousy was, Sam balked at actually letting him believe he had competition—not after their past couple of days together. “There’s no one to show. It’s just, like, a thing I say sometimes. If I put it in the title, the audios do better.”
Sam held up his phone, showing Silas the title of his latest recording.
God, what the hell was he doing? Telling Silas about his job was one thing, but sharing an audio with him? That was entirely another.
Slowly, Silas took the phone, cradling it in his hand like it could shatter at the slightest touch. “ ThatNeedyBoyVA?” he read aloud, eyes darting back down to Sam’s in question.
Face hot, Sam cleared his throat. “Um. My name. My creator name.”
Reaching out, Silas palmed the nape of Sam’s neck with his free hand, keeping his head tilted back. “ Big Alpha Cock Fills Up My Tight Hole and Makes Me Cry,” he read aloud again, sounding dazed, words slurring through his canines.
“Yeah,” Sam croaked.
Silas’ thumb flicked to scroll further down.
Fuck, could he see Sam’s other audios on the same page? He couldn’t remember for sure, but he didn’t need Silas reading them all aloud like some fever-dream-induced bedtime story.
Sam snatched the phone back. “See? No one else. Now, I’m tired. Let’s go to sleep.”
He made to scoot back on the bed, but Silas’s hand on the back of his neck held him in place, clearly not finished with their conversation. “Who is it, then? Someone you think about when you record?”
“Nope,” Sam squeaked, studiously avoiding Silas’ gaze.
Get a grip. You’re a better liar than that.
Silas traced his thumb up the front of Sam’s throat. “Sammy, who do you think about when you record? Who do you call Alpha?”
Sam narrowed his eyes. “I told you, it’s no one.”
“Hmm…” A wicked grin stretched across Silas’ face. “You’re lying.”
“I am not ,” Sam huffed, trying to ignore the way Silas’ hoodie rode up, exposing his prominent happy trail. He wanted to put his mouth there again. “And why do you wear those stupid things anyway?”
Silas arched an eyebrow at his deflection. “These?” he asked, pulling at the hoodie.
“Yes, those. I can’t believe you leave the house in that. What’s the point if they can’t even keep your arms warm?”
Silas’ eyes flashed again. “The point, ” he said, head cocked to the side with the most infuriating smirk on his face, “is it drives you crazy when I wear them. I fucking love when you’re all riled up with nowhere to go. Now, who’s Alpha?”
Sam gaped, outraged. He pushed Silas back so he could stand, chest to chest. “It does not— if you think I give a damn about you wearing that stupid hoodie?—”
Faster than Sam could react, Silas spun him around and pinned him face down into the duvet, ass in the air. His feet were still on the ground, and Silas was folded all the way down so that his chest pressed into Sam’s back.
“I can smell it, you know,” Silas groaned into his ear, his breath hot against Sam’s cheek. “When you’re so turned on, you can’t tell if you want to fuck me or fight me. Come on, love. I’d enjoy either more than you’ll ever know.”
Sam squirmed beneath him, trying and failing to reach out of the cage of Silas’ arms for leverage. “What the fuck are you doing?” he spat.
The way he was grinding his ass back into Silas’ rapidly hardening cock may have taken some of the bite out of the question, though.
Silas nipped at Sam’s ear. “You’re being a brat , so I’m putting you in timeout until you’ve learned your lesson.”
Sam’s cheeks flamed. So Silas had caught a glimpse of his other audio titles.
No one had ever dared call him that. There was only one person in the world Sam would let call him that and not gouge out their eyes for it. Still… “You can’t treat me like a misbehaving child,” he snarled, even though his cock was filling so fast from Silas calling him a brat he felt lightheaded.
Silas chuckled, and the sound simmered low in Sam’s belly, right where he ached to be filled. “How about you tell me who Alpha is, and I’ll show you how naughty brats should behave. If you want that?”
Sam panted into the mattress, head spinning.
Do I want that?
Yes. In bold fucking underlined letters, yes.
The never-ending questions that’d been floating around in his head had melted away, and all that remained was an unrelenting need for whatever Silas was willing to give.
He’d already chipped away at so much of the wall erected around Sam’s heart. What was the point in keeping the fact that he’d been thinking of Silas for months and months a secret anymore?
Sam reached out and squeezed the hand Silas had braced by his head. “Yes,” he answered through gritted teeth. “Ok.”
“Yes, what, love?” Silas asked, dancing featherlight kisses along the nape of Sam’s neck.
Sam blew out a petulant huff, wiggling back on Silas’ cock again until he growled. “Yes, please. Show me, A lpha.”
Silas’ chest rumbled, the sound vibrating through him. He was still partially shifted, and Sam reveled in the feel of him all around, larger and thicker and everywhere.
“That’s right, Sammy. I’m your alpha. Your only alpha,” Silas said right into his ear.
He kicked Sam’s legs further apart and took hold of his arms, pinning them behind his back. “I want you to say it. Say that I’m the one you think about when you scream for them. Tell me I’m who you imagine filling you when you make yourself come. Say you’ve been thinking about me for as long as I’ve been thinking about you.”
His voice was a growling mix of pleading demands, and Sam was a slave to it. “You’re my alpha,” he said, groaning and rocking into Silas. “It’s you. It’s always been you.”
“You bet it’s fucking me,” Silas said, triumphant. He bit at Sam’s shoulder. “Now, you’ll stay just like this. If you move, I’ll stop. Yes?”
Sam nearly keened. What the hell was Silas doing to him? “Fine,” he panted, trying to reel himself back in. He’d never felt more exposed, more vulnerable. “But get on with it.”
Silas smiled, pressing his teeth into the crook of Sam’s neck before kissing his way down his back. Kneeling behind him, Silas pushed Sam’s shirt up until it hung around his shoulders and adjusted his arms to keep it there. It blocked any view Sam had of where Silas knelt behind him, leaving him helpless to predict his movements.
“What—what are you doing?” Sam asked.
Silas drug his fingers down the newly exposed skin along Sam’s back, careful not to prick his claws, and smacked a hand on one of Sam’s ass cheeks—hard.
It’d been dampened by the sweats he still wore, and Silas soothed it immediately by gently running his hand over the area, but it still smarted in all the ways Sam hadn’t known he’d enjoy.
“I’m showing you how naughty brats should behave, remember?” Silas said, hooking his fingers in Sam’s joggers and boxer briefs and pulling them down, not bothering to free his feet.
Sam could only whimper, turning his head to muffle the sound into the bedding.
“Now that won’t do, love,” Silas cooed, the hot exhale of his breath against Sam’s most vulnerable parts making him shiver. “I want to hear you. I want you to make every little noise you’d share with your subscribers, except this time—it’s all for me.”
He’d pressed the last few words right into the swell of Sam’s ass, where he was still sensitive from the slap. Nipping and soothing the bites with his tongue, Silas worshipped the soft skin along his thighs and cheeks, trading one open-mouthed kiss for each of Sam’s sighs and hitched breaths.
“Si—Silas, please. Do something,” Sam begged, his cock aching where it hung heavy and full from the teasing attention. He’d never been taken apart like this before.
He’d never wanted to be taken apart like this before.
Silas nipped harder, causing Sam to yelp and squirm. Then he grasped Sam’s ass in both hands and pulled his cheeks apart with his thumbs, exposing him fully to the cold air.
“ Fuck , Sammy. You’re perfect. So perfect. I want to hear you, remember? Don’t hold back, love,” Silas said, and then he licked over Sam’s opening.
Sam cried out, melting into the mattress with each swirl and lap of Silas’ tongue. He reached forward between Sam’s legs and tugged lightly on his balls, leaving his cock touch-starved and aching.
“Oh God, oh my God, Si—I’m, oh , I need more. Please. Please fill me up.”
Sam rocked back, letting out a small, high-pitched moan each time Silas drove his tongue as deep as he could inside Sam’s hole. It was too much and not nearly enough. He wanted to be full of Silas, stuffed to the brim with his cock, with everything he could give.
Surfacing for air, Silas cursed again. “I fucking love how you taste,” he groaned. “And the way you sound begging on my tongue, and the way you squirm…” he smacked Sam’s ass. “Which you’re not supposed to be doing.”
Sam pouted when Silas stood, yanking open his nightstand drawer and fishing around for something. Hurrying back over to kneel behind Sam again, Silas kissed all over his backside to the unmistakable flick of opening a bottle of lube.
“I’m too riled up to shift back, and I can’t fuck you like this. Not yet. But I’ll give you what you need, love,” Silas said gruffly.
Sam whined again and opened his mouth to ask why Silas couldn’t fuck him in his partial shift, because that sounded like everything hopes and dreams were made of, but he let out a punched-out moan instead when Silas began massaging the slick pad of one finger over his hole.
“You’re already so relaxed, so open for me. This will be nice and easy… ah , there it is,” Silas said as one finger slid inside with almost no resistance—like Sam’s body welcomed it home.
Thankfully, he’d remembered to put his claws away.
Sam’s voice broke into a husky moan, reeling from the way Silas’ finger filled him, finally giving him something . One of his fingers felt like two of Sam’s, and the thick ring of muscle sucked it inside, eager for more.
But it wasn’t enough. Not even close.
“I want more, please, Silas,” Sam begged. “I need more.”
He tried rocking back onto Silas’ finger to feel it deeper, clenching down, but Silas tsked, pulling out. “ Ah, ah, ah , remember? You move, and I stop.”
“ Fuck,” Sam pouted. “Just—fucking—fuck me already!”
Another hard smack, this time on the other cheek, made Sam cry out.
“Want another, brat? Or will you do as you’re told and stay still?”
Sam huffed and clenched his hands into fists but kept his arms where Silas had put them, crossed behind his back.
Silas gave him two lube-coated fingers all at once as a reward, and Sam keened at the delicious stretch.
“See? Doesn’t it feel better to listen and do as I tell you?”
Sam was beyond snark now, beyond anything really besides tiny, reedy moans each time Silas fucked his fingers in and out, curling them experimentally until he found the spot that made Sam jerk involuntarily and precum drip from the head of his cock in long strings, leaking onto the duvet.
“Oh—oh—oh, Silas. Silas!”
“Shh , it’s alright love. I can’t give you my cock right now, but we’ll make this good together, yeah?” Silas’ words came out thick and slurred through his teeth.
Sam still strongly disagreed with that, but Silas stuffed three fingers inside his ass, and there was less to complain about. Curling them purposefully now, Silas firmly massaged over his prostate, milking him while he tongued at Sam’s balls, pulled up tight the longer this went on.
Silas still hadn’t even touched Sam’s cock, and yet he felt an orgasm building, one of those once-in-a-blue-moon full-body experiences that were so intense they left him completely drained—literally and figuratively.
Usually, it took Sam a whole lot of self-induced edging, finding the right spot with a prostate vibrator, and a fantasy about Silas drilling him through the mattress to get there.
All it took Silas were three fingers and the word brat .
“Silas, I’m going to come from that. You’re going to make me come doing th-that—” Sam panted, overwhelmed and wanting to scramble around in the sheets but unable to move because then Silas would stop, and the world would rend in two if he let up now.
Silas chuckled again and continued massaging three fingers just there in a near-constant press . “Brats ask permission before they come, they don’t declare it.”
A high-pitched “ ah!” w hooshed out of Sam when Silas reached between his legs and finally, finally wrapped a slick hand around Sam’s cock.
“Well? Ask me nicely, love, and I’ll let you come,” he said, tugging lightly.
Sam was trembling all over from the combined stimulation, feeling the shudders begin to wrack his body. “Please?” he begged. “It’s—Silas, I'm close. I can’t— hnngh.”
Silas released his cock, smacked his ass, and took hold of him again, pumping firmly. “Ask me , brat. Ask your alpha if you can come,” Silas said through a snarl, the deep voice of the alpha rumbling through Sam.
“ Oh, fuck! Please, Alpha, can I come? Please let me come, please, please, please!”
Silas maintained the same steady pace as he massaged over Sam’s prostate, but he pushed down more firmly inside him at the same time his hand did this twisting-tug motion on Sam’s cock. “Yes, Sammy, come. Come all over our bed.”
Sam’s vision whited out. His whole body seized as he came, and instead of spurting out in regular intervals like usual, his cum streamed out the head of his cock in one continuous flow, dribbling all over the duvet.
He had to be screaming. Or maybe his throat was so raw by now he wasn’t able to make any sound at all.
Sam blinked and found himself on his back, lying in the wet patch he’d just made and staring up at Silas.
He looked completely feral.
With one leg hiked up on the bed over Sam and canines bared, Silas furiously jerked his cock with one hand and squeezed the base with the other. The way his foreskin moved as he worked himself fascinated Sam—he hadn’t realized how fucking hot that would be until seeing Silas’ cock for the first time.
To be fair, it could just be that Silas’ cock was fucking hot, no matter what.
Blearily, Sam reached up to wrap his hand around the quickly swelling base, not really knowing why, except that he needed to feel it.
Silas cried out, his brows pinching together at Sam’s touch. He roughly took hold of Sam’s hand and squeezed it around the knot, hard, harder than he would have thought pleasurable, and then Silas roared.
Cum rained down on Sam’s chest and belly.
Silas collapsed on top of him, barely supporting his weight so that Sam felt truly pinned. Which was good, because he’d fly apart without Silas holding him together.
Sam wrapped his arms and legs around him, clinging on as they came down from that debilitating high.
They were both panting, raw, and worn out. When his breathing finally evened out, Silas groaned as he lifted up and off Sam. “Don’t move, love, I’ll grab what we need to clean up,” he whispered, dropping a gentle kiss to Sam’s forehead.
After everything they’d just done, Sam shouldn’t have been so taken apart by it.
Silas wasn’t gone long, and when he came back, he gently wiped Sam off with a warm washcloth and tucked him back into his pajamas. Tossing the rag into the hamper, Silas scooped him up and arranged them so they lay up on the pillows, with Sam resting mostly on top of Silas and the warm duvet pulled over them both.
They’d deal with the wet patch at the foot of the bed tomorrow.
After several long minutes filled with the sound of their steady breaths and Silas’ nails gently scratching along Sam’s scalp, Silas whispered, “I know you were thinking about leaving. When we first arrived at my parents' house, and just a few minutes ago. You have a look when you’re about to bolt.”
Silas’ words caught Sam off guard after their mind-blowing sex, but he wouldn’t deny it, not when there was no point. Sam couldn’t bear to see the disappointment in his eyes, though, so he tucked his face into the crook of Silas’ arm, hiding from the truth.
Silas held him tighter. “I’ll never give up, you know.”
Sam turned to peer up at him, wishing he had the courage to tell him he should—he deserved so much more than what Sam would drag into his life. “Silas?—”
“No,” Silas interrupted with that rumbling dominance that had only ever demanded that Sam stand tall and never cower.
Demanded that he stand with Silas.
“No. You can push me away all you like. You can run. But I’ll never stop looking for you. I’ll never stop hunting you, choosing you. I’ll never stop waiting for you to choose me, too.”
Sam shook his head, tears falling quickly, choking him.
He couldn’t respond. What was there to say?
He didn’t know what it meant to choose Silas. Everything in Sam ached to beg for his forgiveness, to lay his heart and transgressions out before them both and ask to be loved anyway, to try and make a life together despite all of Sam’s lies and fuck-ups and mess.
Sam didn’t care anymore that he wasn’t Silas’ mate.
One year, one month, one day would be more than he’d ever hoped to have as the man Silas loved. If that’s all they were destined for before Silas found someone else, someone better, he’d take it.
And when he was alone again, he’d hoard his memories of belonging to Silas the way a dragon collected gold—wallowing in it, an eternal guard of his most precious riches.
But how fucking selfish would it be to expose Silas and his family to Cain all over again, for at most a few years of feeling whole?
What if choosing Silas meant choosing to give him happiness and forsaking his own?
Words still evaded him, so Sam pressed kisses all across Silas’ chest, right over his heart. He wiped at Sam’s tears and turned him so they were spooned together.
Silas fell asleep that way, holding Sam tight like he was afraid he’d disappear while they slept.
Sam’s thoughts kept him up until well after midnight, though, long after Silas’ breaths became even and deep with sleep. Again, he thought of what it meant to choose Silas, to make him happy, warm, and safe—just like he’d done for Sam.
Ever so gently, Sam shifted out of Silas’ embrace without waking him. Reaching for his phone, he pulled up the text string that had always made him want to vomit. Thumbs shaking, he tapped out a single message, hitting send before he could overthink.
Then, Sam curled back into Silas’ arms; they fit around him like they were made to hold each other. He lay awake for a long time, soaking in every sensation and committing to memory the feeling of being surrounded by Silas.