This blog is full of fandoms, complaining, fiction, and pretty things. Enjoy your stay. (This is a secondary blahg run by Erin and Paige. Mostly Erin.)
masochist(s)
It took everything Sam had in him to control himself. Naked grandmas playing soccer, animals fighting, zombies, his parents making out…they all worked momentarily until Mercedes would lean to the side to help her friend with something. He thought she was cute and she usually wore dresses, but today she was in the most sinful pair of jeans he’d ever seen. They were purple and hugged her ass like a second skin, making him bite his lip and stare at it while imagining himself being pressed against her closer than humanly possible. He wanted to be inside of her and her shifting in her seat didn’t help keep the dirty thoughts at bay; they amplified them.
He gulped and clicked his pen repeatedly, glancing at their teacher, who was typing away on her laptop. His eyes drifted back to her ass in a matter of seconds. She was leaning forward now, her lace panties peaking over the hem of the jeans, whispering his name, begging to be ripped off.
“Sam?” His eyes bulged when he realized she’d turned to speak to him and he cleared his throat.
“Uh, yeah, what’s up?” he replied quickly. She cocked her head and raised an eyebrow.
“My pen just dried up, I was wondering if you had an extra one? Santana doesn’t,” she told him, smiling.
“Yeah, sure.” He dug around in his back pack and pulled an extra pen out, handing it to her.
“Thanks!” she said, turning back around in his chair. Shamelessly, his gaze dropped right back to the jeans. It’d be nearly impossible to fit anything else in them, but he was willing to test that theory. He jumped when a crumpled piece of paper hit him in the face and furrowed his eyebrows, looking down at it before opening it up.
dude just take a pic with ur phone!
He looked up and saw Puck a couple seats down, smirking and pointing at Mercedes’ ass. He bit his lip and wrote something back, tossing it back down to him.
i’m seriously being that obvious?
He clicked his pen and tried to look everywhere but Mercedes while waiting for the note to come back. When it did, he opened it and sighed.
pretty sure everyone in this row and back can see how much you want in those jeans.
He hoped his friend was exaggerating. But he hadn’t been paying attention to anything else for the entire hour. It was torture. He scribbled a response and tossed it back down the table.
shit. i keep tryin to look away but her ass is so thick and amazing and scrumptious and jesus mary and joseph I want all of it.
When Puck read the message, he laughed and wrote something down himself. Sam was past the point of being modest, and if anyone would understand his woes, it was Puck. He pretended to look at his book while he waited, but when more time than usual passed, he looked up at Puck to see what happened. His friend was red in the face and staring at Mercedes. He followed the gaze and saw her opening the piece of paper they’d been passing back and forth. He looked at Puck and panicked while he apologized for his shitty aim. Mercedes read the note and didn’t say anything until the bell rang.
He slowly stood to put his things away, his hands shaking as he did so. When most of their classmates left, she turned to him and handed the note back.
“I think that’s yours.”
“Listen I didn’t mean…well I did, I just…Mercedes you’re…” She watched him struggle with an amused look on her face before touching his shoulder.
“It’s okay, Sam. Look all you want.”
He blacked out again. He couldn’t even remember what the guy had said. Something about his family most likely, considering that’s what usually sent him over the edge. Everyone knew he was living on the bad side of town now and the snotty kids in their city never failed to make a nasty remark about the fact that his dad couldn’t find a job. His temper didn’t help their opinion of him, but once Sam was set off, he couldn’t really control it.
“Baby! I’m hungry! You know I can’t get it on my own and I haven’t eaten today!” Sam whined, gripping the remote control in his hand. He’d pause between laughing at Fresh Prince episodes to call into the kitchen to remind his wife of how hungry he was. His foot, in a cast for another week, was propped on the coffee table.
“Oh and when you come in here, can you give me a back rub? It just feels weird because I’ve been sitting on this couch all day. You know I’m not used to sitting sill for so long!” He added, yelling over the crying that came from their triplets’ crib across the room. “Baby! They’re crying!”
“I know, Sam. I know,” Mercedes replied finally, through gritted teeth as she made her way over to the crib. She somehow managed to pick them all up, bouncing them and singing a quick song to put them at ease. It worked and she set them back down, disappearing briefly and coming back with three bottles of breast milk.
“Baby is the food ready?” Sam asked. She rubbed her temples and closed her eyes before responding.
“Not yet, Sam. I had to take care of the kids.”
“Could you bring me another pillow too?” he added when she went back into the kitchen. She quickly finished up making his breakfast of toast, bacon and eggs (over-easy) and brought the plate to him on the couch, reminding herself that he was only being this annoying because he was in pain.
“Um…” he started when he looked at his plate. Her eye twitched, but she plastered on a smile.
“What?”
“I just…I thought I asked for blueberry pancakes,” he said, biting his lip and giving her that smile that ordinarily would get her to do anything he wanted, but she’d reached her limit.
“You didn’t,” she retorted, putting a hand on her hip.
“Maybe you just didn’t hear me?” he supplied, his voice going up.
“You know what Sam?” she said, glaring and storming back into the kitchen. She grabbed a bowl from the cabinet, dumped pancake mix into it followed by blueberries and ran it under the faucet. She walked back to the couch where he sat and dropped the bowl of unmixed batter onto his lap, some of it sloshing onto his legs.
“Bon appetite,” she snapped, turning on her heel and stomping up to their bedroom to take a nap for the sake of her sanity.
Sam sat in silence for a few moments, staring at the mess in his lap. He looked over at the triplets, who all still had bottles in their mouths and were staring right back at him. He pursed his lips and looked back at the television.
“She forgot my backrub…” he muttered.
“It’s so nice to have you back over for dinner, Sam! I feel like you hardly ever come over anymore!” Mrs. Jones said after grace. Everyone was smiling and digging in aside from Mr. Jones, Mercedes and Sam, whose lips were sucked in as he stared at his food avoiding eye contact. Mercedes was eating in small bites and staring at her napkin while her father just sat with his hands on either side of his plate. He would occasionally look up at Mercedes, wince and look away.
“So that was awkward,” Sam began pulling his notepad out of his bag and setting it on Mercedes’s bed. She chuckled and nodded her head in agreement, opening her new Sex Health book and setting it between them.
“Yeah, and honestly I think Sue Sylvester is the last person to teach sex ed,” she said. After being pressured for years by the school board, their high school finally caved and enforced a comprehensive sexual education class.
“I guess that’s the only person they could get to do it last minute,” he reasoned, opening his own book. They always did their Friday homework together, since they were in middle school and tonight was no different.
“So have you ever thought about it? Sex, I mean,” she said after a few moments.
“Only like every night,” he replied, laughing. “I mean, you know, I’m hormonal and stuff,” he added when he saw her facial expression.
“Yeah…I think about it too. But in the romantic sense. Maybe it’s because I’m such a girl.” She shrugged and rolled her eyes, turning to the assigned pages in their book.
“No, it’s not just a girl thing, I mean, I think about the romantic stuff too. Like, who it’ll be, how she’ll look at me, whether or not we’ll be in love when it happens…I think about all of that,” he told her. She smiled and nodded.
“Yeah, me too. Well how he’ll look at me. How he’ll touch me, how it’ll feel…I’ve always been curious about how it feels to just have someone else’s body pressed against yours, you know? To have them kiss you all over and to be wrapped around each other…”
“And feeling the warmth of their soft lips against you,” he said.
“Labored breathing while we’re moving together, the headboard knocking…” she went on.
“She might pull my hair a little and whisper things in my ear.”
“Things like how good it is and how bad they’ve wanted it.” She stopped speaking and so did he. At some point they’d gotten closer to each other and their lips were inches apart, their breathing heavy. The silence made them both realize the proximity and they jumped away from each other, clearing their throats and avoiding eye contact.
“I have to…excuse me,” he stammered, rushing off of the bed and hobbling over to her bathroom to get rid of the awkward situation under his jeans.
Sam Evans was a name known all over the east coast, especially in New York. All one had to do was say his name and passersby would jump, tense, or speed up. He was a kingpin; the legend who took his father’s throne and made his once ‘heard of’ crime family into a machine – a force to be reckoned with.
So when Mercedes walked into her apartment to find it filled to the brim with red roses, she took a moment to think about what she was getting into.
Mercedes smiled feebly when she felt Sam get into bed and snuggle flush against her. His arm wrapped around her middle and he kissed her shoulder, lingering there, taking in her scent and closing his eyes.
“I love you,” he mumbled. Her smile grew and she turned her head slightly to look at him.
“I love you too,” she replied. He kissed her shoulder again and ghosted his fingers over her stomach. His lips trailed up to the shell of her ear and he placed a kiss there as well before speaking again under a whisper.
“Do you…do you wanna try again tonight?” he asked. He heard her sigh.
“I’m beginning to think it doesn’t matter, Sam. We’ve been trying for so long now and honestly I’m just tired of empty hopes and negative pregnancy tests,” she confessed, touching his hand that rested on her middle and twining her fingers with his.
“I’m done! She can get married in a damn paper bag and eat cheese and crackers at the reception for all I care because I don’t need this shit!” Santana fumed, storming out of Mercedes’s work room and into the front area of the loft. Sam heard the commotion and came out of his office to see Tina, Quinn and Sugar following the angry TroubleTone to the front door.
“Hey hey, what’s going on? Why are you guys leaving?” he asked, walking over and holding his hands up.
“Because we’re sick of Aretha’s bullshit!” Santana snapped.
“She’s being a bit unreasonable,” Quinn added, rubbing her temples.
The sight of her in someone else’s arms literally made him ill. He could only wrap the blanket tighter around him and take another swig of beer. His friends were laughing and telling stories, but he could only think about the fact that this time last year, Mercedes had been in his bed whining about getting up so early and pulling him back down onto the tousled sheets.
Another long distance situation fucked them up. He remembered her words like she said them yesterday. How she was tired of heartache and they were always far away from each other. How she wanted stability.
Now he was back for good, but she’d found the stability she wanted in someone else. It was the same goddamn situation that it had been in high school. It was like a sick cycle with them and it got old years ago. They never seemed to have it down. The summer before his junior year of high school, he remembered lying in her bed with her when he got off work. Not kissing or making love, but simply laying there after a long day. He remembered watching her sleep and stroking her hair, thinking about how he wanted his future to look like that. Her sleeping next to him, their hands clasped together and legs overlapping each other’s.
Everything looks so damn good when you’re a kid.
Reality had stripped him of seemingly every romantic shred on his body and he couldn’t help but think this was it with Mercedes. He wasn’t dumb enough to try and convince himself he wouldn’t always love her because he would; he was just beginning to think the pain was something he’d have to live with.
He looked up to be met with her russet eyes with the fire’s reflection dancing inside them. One thing he’d picked up over the course of their rocky history was the ability to read her mind. She wasn’t transparent, but knowing her like he did from head to toe, she might as well have been.
He knew what she wanted and he wouldn’t give it to her. He could see the war happening behind her orbs and he knew her conscience would win out. It always did.
She finally tore her gaze from him and looked at the others. Quinn and Artie had gone into a rendition of Tonight You Belong to Me with his ukulele and Sam rolled his eyes. That song was so annoyingly sweet. Hearing the line ‘I know you belong to somebody new…’ sent him over the edge.
He excused himself and walked away from the campsite to smoke a cigarette (a terrible habit he’d picked up after him and Mercedes’s third break up). He leaned against a tree and looked at the moon, glad to be away from the romantic duets of his musical friends.
“Can I bum one?” He turned to see Mercedes walking toward him and couldn’t help but smile a little. She followed him.
“You don’t smoke, Cedes.” She shrugged.
“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t,” she replied. He raised an eyebrow. “Alright, I don’t.” He laughed and blew out smoke, pressing the cig against the tree to put it out.
“So…” he began. He was prepared for the talk about her new boyfriend and how she ‘liked him so much’ and how they can’t ‘give each other those looks’. But her next words turned that routine on its head and had his eyes bulging.
“Wanna get out of here?”
“I thought you didn’t like Blondie?” Santana asked, raising an eyebrow when Mercedes exited her closet in a dress that would be tasteful on a woman with a small chest, but on her looked downright sinful.
“I don’t,” she replied, sitting down at her vanity to do her make-up. Santana rolled her eyes.
“Oh, so you’re dressing like that for Principal Bagley? Or all the other teachers over fifty?” They were preparing to go to the high school’s faculty Christmas party. Santana had come over early so they could gossip and get dressed together, having been Mercedes’s best friend since their sophomore year at McKinley. Now she was the cheer coach and Mercedes taught English and glee club.
“Maybe I just want to look nice,” Mercedes lied, applying lip gloss.
“Oh my God Cedes, will you just fuck him already? He’s been practically begging for it since he started at McKinley.”
“What he’s doing is not cute, and he will not be rewarded for it,” she sassed, shaking her head and setting down her eye-liner. “I mean, the sexual innuendo, the smirking, and the ‘accidentally’ rubbing up against me in the copy room? He is not slick.”
“He is incredibly fine and you’re bat-shit crazy,” Santana lamented, glancing at her manicure.
When they arrived at the party, it took all of thirty seconds before Sam was walking up to her. Santana winked and walked away in search of refreshments.
“My car’s outside,” he said after licking his lips. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped slightly.
“I’m not leaving with you,” she retorted, scoffing. He gasped.
“I didn’t peg you for kinky, Mercedes. But if you insist, we can step inside a classroom. You can play the teacher and I can play the bad student who needs extra attention,” he told her. She almost faltered due to the growl in his voice, but she kept her composure.
“Wow. Student and teacher role-play? Could you get any more cliché?” she asked.
“Oh, but it’s a classic. I’ll even let you spank me with a ruler,” he responded, biting his lip. With his novelty tie and Santa hat, he should have looked ridiculous but the look in his eyes had her clenching her thighs closer together.
“Whatever Sam,” she said, moving around him. It wasn’t a quality comeback, but it was something. It was definitely a step-up from surrendering. As she walked away, she made a point to move slowly and more deliberately because she knew he was looking at her ass.
