The Year of the Salamander - 8. Chapter 8

“Kid, it’s twelve-thirty,” Desmond said tiredly when Sam walked through the front door.

“Sorry,” Sam said quickly and bent down to hug Specter.

He frowned when the dog suddenly stopped dead in its tracks and stared at him with confusion.

“What is it, Specter?” Sam asked in a puzzled voice.

The dog tentatively wagged his tail and took a careful step towards Sam’s outstretched hand. He cautiously sniffed at the fingers and back-pedaled rather quickly. Sam frowned deeper.

“What the hell...” he muttered.

“He is probably jealous,” Desmond yawned powerfully. “You obviously spent some good, high-quality time making out with that new friend of yours... The dog can smell her on you, so he is jealous,” he shrugged, and Sam stared at him, impressed by his sudden insightfulness about the dog’s behavior.

It made sense, except Sam was positive that Specter didn’t smell Eve on him. The last person to touch him was Blair. Why did the dog react so strangely to his scent?

“Specter, come on...” he reached out for the dog one more time, and Specter jumped backwards. Sam sighed and straightened up. “Fine,” he muttered. “I am not taking a shower right now, I am tired as hell...” He wasn’t lying. The events of the night were starting to hit him full speed, and he felt himself shake again. “You will have to deal with this tonight.”

The dog wagged his tail again but didn’t move. Sam sighed one more time and looked at Desmond.

“On my way home, the tire blew,” he said in his usual mild manner, shoving his hands into his pockets so Desmond couldn’t see them shake.

“Why didn’t you call?” the ex-assassin frowned. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded lightly. “I was right next to the gas station when it happened, so I just waited there for them to fix it. The tow truck was out on a run, so they had to wait for it to come back.”

“I thought you said you were right next to the gas station...” Desmond said slowly.

“Well, about time!” he was interrupted by Gabriel’s voice.

Sam turned around. Gabriel walked out of the bathroom, furiously drying his hair with the towel.

“Hey,” Sam smiled sheepishly. “Sorry about that... I was a block away,” he looked at Desmond again. “It’s all good though,” he shrugged. “And I refilled your tank,” he added with a small nod, wisely deciding not to mention anything about ‘Winter Garden Apple’ right now. He will deal with it tomorrow; right now, all he wanted to do was go to bed. “Good night, guys! Specter, let’s go!”

The dog sat down and nervously moved his ears. Sam sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Fine,” he said somewhat shortly. “Be that way... I am not getting up in the middle of the night,” he said warningly. “So don’t even bother scratching the door... Specter, just come on!”

The dog blinked several times, and then slowly lay down, resting his head on his paws.

“Fine,” Sam said in defeat. “Good night then!”

He was almost by his door when Desmond called out:

“Sam, is everything all right?”

Sam blinked when the man used his name instead of his usual ‘kid.’ He turned around and mustered a light smile.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I am really tired, that’s all...”

“Night...” Desmond said slowly.

“Night, Sam,” Gabriel threw the towel on the chair without bothering to spread it out.

“Night, guys,” Sam smiled again and shot the last glance at the dog, who still wouldn’t move, even though his tail was beating a small, tentative rhythm on the carpet.

Sam sighed, went into his room, and shut the door. He absent-mindedly brushed his teeth and pulled on his pajamas before turning off the lights. Five minutes after he crawled under the blankets, he heard very familiar by now muffled moans from behind the closed door. He frowned when he realized that he didn’t want to get his head under the pillow right now. Instead, he slightly kicked off the blanket, after feeling a wave of heat rush all over him.

He wasn’t a stranger to the idea of self-gratification; in fact, it was the only way of release possible for him. He wouldn’t even try imagining himself being with someone else. He tried that once, and as a result, he ended up having the worst panic attack ever. He closed his eyes, concentrating on Eve and their kiss. He remembered the taste of her mouth, her soft lips, her trembling body pressing hard against his... His hand slowly traveled under the waistband of his pajama pants, and he bit his lip when his fingers found the object of their destination, setting a slow, steady, sliding rhythm.

The muffled moans behind the door started to become more urgent, and Sam’s hand tried quickening the pace – something that Sam refused to give. Not yet, anyway. Eve, he thought hazily. That boldness-gaining tongue of hers, smell of her skin, softness of her mouth, light-hazel eyes, light-brown, almost red hair... His eyes flew wide open when he realized that the last couple of thoughts weren’t about Eve. He bit his lip harder, trying to get his train of thoughts to get back to the original ‘Eve’ track, but no matter how hard he tried, he would see those eyes, lightening with each second; that hair falling over those eyes so carelessly; he would hear laughter that sent shivers down his spine when it wasn’t pissed off...

His hand sped up, ignoring his futile tries to slow down. The moans behind the door started to get louder, breaking through whatever (Sam suspected it was either a pillow or Gabriel’s palm) was muffling them. He kicked off the blanket completely, and impatiently pulled down his pants, aching to be free. His hand was living the life of its own right now, and he gave into that oh-so-welcomed pulsating with need desire. His thumb was performing rolls that made his mouth hang open and eyes squeeze shut all by themselves.

The moans behind the door got quicker and more desperate, and Sam’s fingers tightened their grip ever so slightly, without even a hint of slowing down, his hips rocking steadily into his fist. His breathing was nowhere near normal right now. In fact, it was coming out with small, harsh whimpers, his body tingling head to toe, trembling all over, ready for the looming threat of exploding shimmering pleasure, which he tried to shove away as far as possible.

“Eve...” he muttered very softly, and a silent voice in his head screamed:

“Oh, God, Blair...!”

His eyes rolled all the way back into his skull when he made a hell of an effort to stop the seemingly-inevitable explosion. It worked, but Sam knew it was only for that long.

“Eve...” he whimpered softly, the moans behind the door turning into muffled screams.

His hand started to move faster yet – a thing he was desperately trying to stop, but there was nothing he could do.

“Eve...” he hissed once again, and then his memory had mercilessly flashed the sensation of Blair’s fingers on his cheekbone. Sam softly moaned into his pillow, his hand tightening its grasp, quickening its pace...

“Oh, God...” he gasped when his fingers managed to squeeze all breath out of him. “Oh, God... Blair!!” he moaned helplessly into his pillow when his entire body convulsed, sending waves of a mind-numbing sensation running through him, and his fingers swiftly ran up and down, squeezing the last shuddering waves of pulsating pleasure out of him.

The moans behind the door came to an abrupt end, as if whoever (“Desmond, of course...”) was producing them, choked on his own breath, and Sam’s moaning became even less audible when he shoved his face into the pillow, biting onto it hard. He locked his teeth on that pillow until he was sure he would be able to keep quiet. Finally, he slowly unlocked his jaw, his entire body trembling head to toe, his breathing sporadic.

“God...” he thought hazily. “Oh, God... I had never come this hard... Oh my God...”

He closed his eyes, blindly pulling the blanket over him, without even remembering about his pajama pants. The sound of his own heartbeat was dancing some weird polka in his ears, drumming an insane lullaby in a ridiculously fast tempo. He felt sleep tugging him down rapidly in spite of his fluttering heart, and soon enough, he was asleep.

...He dreamt of Eve. In his dream, they were in the same park they were in today, and right then, in his dream, it was deserted. They were sitting on a bench in front of a small pond, throwing small pieces of bread to the ducks. Suddenly, Eve turned towards him with a small, sly smile and said in a slow, sultry voice:

“You are mine now, Sam... I just need to mark you, that’s all.”

“Mark me,” Sam said calmly and put the bread away. “Mark me, I am yours...”

She smiled again and slid closer to him, her fingers looking for something in her pocket. She leaned closer and slowly licked the side of his throat while still digging in her pocket. Sam closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation. Suddenly, she breathed into his ear:

“Your shirt is in the way... Take it off...”

He obeyed without asking anything; it was as if he was under her absolute control. He took off his shirt and put it next to him on the bench. When he looked at her again, she was still smiling, and she held a thin silver needle in her fingers.

“I am going to mark you now,” she said slowly, and he nodded silently.

“It will only hurt for a second,” she whispered and stroked his chest with her fingertips.

She gently blew on the tip of the needle and it glowed blue for a moment or two.

“Don’t be afraid,” she whispered and brought the needle closer to his chest, right above his heart.

He wasn’t afraid; instead, he was almost mesmerized. He watched that needle getting closer to his skin, anticipating a sharp prick, when suddenly, there was vicious barking, and Eve’s hand jerked. She looked up with astonishment.

“What the...” she started saying, and then she was knocked off the bench by a huge white dog. She shrieked and lost the needle, thrashing under the dog’s great weight.

“Specter!” Sam exclaimed, as if waking up from an extremely vivid dream. “God, Specter, no!”

The dog ignored him and pinned a terrified Eve down, his bared teeth a couple of inches away from her throat.

“Get him away from me!” she shrieked. “Sam, get him away!”

Sam raced to the dog and tried to pull him away, but the animal wouldn’t even budge.

“Relax, Sam,” somebody’s calm voice said right behind him, and then he felt a hand on his shoulder. He whirled around.

“Blair...” he muttered, and the Fire Guardian smiled.

“Relax,” he repeated and ran his fingers through Sam’s hair. “It’s okay now...” He glanced at the dog. “He’ll take care of it, don’t worry. I am here now, and I will never let anything happen to you, okay?”

“Yeah...” Sam muttered, leaning into his touch.

Eve let out another shriek, and Blair hushed her immediately.

“It’s over,” he said simply. “Deal with it.” He pulled Sam closer to himself, never letting go of his shoulders. “Let’s go...” he said quietly, and Sam followed him, feeling incredibly safe in his embrace.

...When he woke up, it was 10:30 in the morning. He lay in bed for several minutes without opening his eyes, his hand absent-mindedly searching the sheets for the familiar warm fur. He couldn’t find it, frowned, and opened his eyes. He blinked a couple of times after realizing that the dog wasn’t sleeping on the bed next to him, which was usually the case. Then he remembered Specter’s reaction to Blair’s scent last night and sighed.

“I’m gonna smell like him again today,” he muttered and kicked off the blanket. “You'd better get used to it...”

He blinked when he realized that he was hoping that today wouldn’t be the last time for him to see Blair. Then he noticed that he wasn’t wearing any pants, and then last night flashed bright and clear in his mind. His neck and ears immediately flamed hot-red when he remembered moaning Blair’s name into the pillow when an impossibly intense wave of pleasure knocked all air out of him. The memory immediately made his blood flow to concentrate on one particular point in his body, and he gritted his teeth.

“Knock it off,” he growled at himself softly. “This is so not becoming a habit...!”

His body completely ignored him, and Sam cursed under his breath, quoting some of Desmond’s and Gabriel’s sayings at the same time. The result was impressive. He sighed, got off the bed, and went to the shower. His body started sending shrill demands into his brain the minute he turned on the water. He stubbornly gritted his teeth again, and stepped into the shower. Icy-cold water made him shriek in breathless surprise, but it did the trick. The blood flow was now concentrating solely on warming up the shivering body; everything else was nothing but a memory. Sam stood under the cascading cold water for the next five minutes, and finally, he turned off the shower with shaking hands and got out of the tub.

While he was getting dressed, shaking uncontrollably all over, his dream resurfaced in his memory. He couldn’t remember any events in that dream, but he knew that it had something to do with Eve, Specter, and Blair.

“Oh, crap...” he muttered when he thought about Eve. He told her that he’d see her again today...

“Well,” the reasonable voice in his head said calmly. “Go to Blair’s place, drop off the phone, and go see her. The whole ordeal wouldn’t take too long. Half an hour at the most...”

True, but he didn’t want to simply drop off the phone, that was the problem. Of course, Blair might simply grab the phone, say ‘Thanks!’ and shut the door in his face; in that case, the problem would solve itself. Sam sighed and dialed Eve’s number that he remembered by heart, frowning thoughtfully at the crack in the wall while he was waiting for her to answer.

“Hello!” she said cheerfully after a minute.

“Hey, Eve,” he said with a small apologetic smile.

“Hey, Sam!” The warmth of her voice made him close his eyes. “What’s the plan?”

“Umm...” he sighed and opened his eyes. “Eve, something came up...”

“Oh,” she said. “It’s okay, don’t worry about it...”

“I am sorry,” he said sincerely. “There is something I have to do today; I didn’t know about it until almost midnight last night... I am sorry...”

“It’s okay,” she said as cheerfully as before, but he could hear a shadow of disappointment in her voice. “I’ll start on my essay, it’s all good!”

“What are you doing tomorrow?” he said, still staring at that crack in the wall.

“I have that stupid class until two,” she said slowly, as if trying to remember if she had any plans for tomorrow or not. “And then, I guess, I am free...”

“Wanna do something tomorrow night?” Sam’s fingers were absent-mindedly pulling on the long strand of his hair.

“Sure,” she agreed immediately. “I don’t see why not...”

“Okay,” he nodded with relief. “I’ll see you tomorrow then... Sorry about...”

“Don’t worry,” she interrupted him. “It’s okay... Really,” she added in a second.

“Okay,” he said again. “Bye, Eve...”

“Later, Sam,” she said and hung up the phone.

He sighed once more, pulled on his jeans, and fished Blair’s phone out of the back pocket. He flipped it open and looked for the ‘off’ button. He wanted to turn it off, since he didn’t have any desire to tell Desmond or Gabriel about Blair right now, and he didn’t want to explain whose phone was in his possession if the gadget suddenly started ringing. Finally, he figured out how to turn the phone off, shoved it into his back pocket, making sure that it stayed out of sight, ran his fingers through his hair, and went out of the room.