Perfectly Normal

PERFECTLY NORMAL CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE



Disclaimers Apply



A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST WOMAN ALIVE™, Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta… *random glompage* InterNutter, TC, Maxwell Pink, Dracena and Greywolf are loverly and wondermous for archiving/hosting.  ProPhile: *poke* So ner. Morgan: Look typo!!! for it in about three chapters. Ish. Or less. Readers/Reviewers: Thank you so much for reading/reviewing as you can! And I have NO idea what happened to AFFN…it’s apparently a Smallville site now or something…I’ll keep you posted, so to speak, on where I move the archives to.









“Shhh! We’re so going to get busted…” Sam’s words were cut off by the sudden crush of Theresa’s lips on his, strawberry flavored and warm as her tongue sought entry to his mouth. He could not breathe for a moment or two but he did not care. He was caught somewhere between the blissful awareness of Theresa’s warmth against him, the soft and small mounds of her breasts pressed against his ribs, the flat plane of her stomach against him, the curve of her backside under his hands, and the knowledge that very soon, he would need to breathe. The breathing thing, he decided, was overrated. His chest ached with the need to inhale but he could not, at just that moment, not with her tongue warring for dominance over his, and the tiny, murmuring noises rising from her throat. The cool wood paneling rubbed against his back as he tried to make sure his footing was secure in the darkened alcove of Emma’s hallway, the Oriental runner slipping under his sneaker clad feet while Theresa moved against him, her hands tugging at the hem of his shirt. Finally, the need for air was too great and he broke away, gasping. “What’s this all about then?” he panted, tilting his chin up to give her better access to his throat, her lips and teeth and tongue working against the sensitive flesh there.



“Shhhh,” she mimicked his earlier warning. “We’re gonna get busted.” She bit the soft flesh at the juncture of his collar bones, sucking softly before breaking away just enough to speak. “Been thinking,” she murmured, tugging at the back of his shirt and freeing it from the waistband of his pants, “I’ve been sort of a bitch lately…” She sucked that same spot again, his groan of pleasure vibrating against her lips as he seemed to go momentarily boneless. In truth, she had been feeling terrible about the way she had treated Sam weeks previous and had found her thoughts turning to him more and more often over the ensuing days. A tiny part of her wanted to annoy her father—he did not hate Sam but at the same time did not want her dating him—but most of her found herself wondering what kind of a person would be interested in her, especially after knowing all she had told him, all about Black Tom and all about her past. He knew, she thought as she tasted the slight salt-sweat tang of the flesh below his collar bone, her hands skimming over his stomach and feeling the rapid pulse in the veins there, all about the thievery, the running, the lawlessness. And, she sighed inwardly, an unaccustomed twinge of uncertainty in her belly as her hands found his chest and rested there, pressed lightly against his ribs as she lifted her lips from his skin.



“Theresa,” he said quietly, his voice thick. “This is going fast…”



“I know,” she murmured. “Come on…”



Sam fumbled briefly with the light switch, his fingers not wanting to function all of a sudden. “Damn it…”



“Leave it off,” Theresa said with a hint of a laugh in her voice. “Just walk forward about ten steps…”



“One,” Same said softly, “two, three, four…ow.” He drew back a fraction, cheeks flushing. “Sorry…”



“Forgot…your stride is longer.” She smiled unapologetically, reaching up to rub delicately at her nose where it had hit his shoulder. “Emma won’t be back till tomorrow at least and my father is gone with her…” She pulled her t-shirt off over her head easily and unselfconsciously, dropping it to the floor of the study. Her skirt was considerably easier to remove, a simple tug on the zipper and it fell to pool around her ankles in a dark muddle of fabric and ribbon. Sam was staring openly in the dimly lit study, his eyes flickering between her pale face and the shadowed firmness of her breasts, then lower to the darkened vee of her thighs. “This is actually easier if you’re naked too,” she suggested, feeling a pink flush creep over her skin.



“Theresa,” he said after a moment, swallowing hard and tamping down the urge to grab her and throw her down on the carpet, “don’t you want to talk first? You know, about stuff…”



“Sam,” she sighed, feeling distinctly chilled now, “I want you. It’s all I’ve been able to think about for two weeks now, kissing you and feeling you inside me and how you smell and taste and those sounds you make when I touch you here,” she demonstrated, her fingers brushing over his obvious arousal gently at first, then more determinedly. Sam’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment then he heaved a sigh. “Ah,” she sighed herself then. “I see…” She turned away and bent down to pick up her clothing, giving him unimpeded views of her backside and the pink of her sex as she drew her skirt back up over her hips and retrieved her shirt.



“No,” he groaned, “you don’t!” He grabbed her upper arm then and pulled her close against him, his erection obvious as it pressed against her belly, his breathing a bit more ragged than usual despite his best efforts to remain calm in the face of her offering so freely. “I want to make love to you, I want to fuck you, I want to do all of this with you but… I just can’t go at it in the hallway like that or in the study. I need…” he took a deep breath and she could tell he was blushing furiously. “I need to know what we are.”



“We are…” she trailed off, her eyes fixed on his, embarrassment flooding her veins for some reason she could not account for, making her both angry and suddenly shy, “We are what we are.”



Sam hissed a breath, leaning in close enough to her that he barely had to give breath to his words for them to be heard. “I want you in every way possible, Theresa. I want to make you scream and claw at my back, I want to feel how wet you get, how hot you are inside…” His fingers brushed against her cheek and he felt her shiver, echoing his own slight tremor. “But I want to love you. I want you to know that I love you and I’m not just using you, Theresa. I want to be able to go to bed with you and know you’re not wondering when I’m gonna ditch you or if I’m gonna be there in the morning.” He released his grasp on her and felt the thick tension between them grow to almost unbearable proportions. She parted her lips, her eyes wide and dark with a mixture of desire and annoyance. “Theresa,” he began, but a loud banging noise filled the house, ringing off the marble floors and wooden walls, shaking the plate glass windows in their frames. Three loud bangs, then a short silence, then three more bangs.



“What the Fuck…” Theresa’s brogue was thick in her sudden anger, her body going tense as a whipcord.



Sam’s own body tightened as he pushed Theresa behind him, putting himself between her and the door. “I’ll get it. Make sure the others stay upstairs.”



“Why? Because I’m the woman?” she snarled, following him into the foyer. The banging sounded again, almost deafening in it’s intensity.



“No,” Sam shouted over the noise. “Because when you yell at them, they’ll listen!”