Quantum Leap (1989) fic: Leap of Love

[kylaraingress]

 Yes, you read that right. Here we are, in the year of our Lord 2024, and I've written a Quantum Leap (1989) slashfic. 

If you're interested, here's the AO3 version, and here's where you can reblog it on Tumblr. 

Title: Leap of Love

Author: Kylara Ingress

Fandom: Quantum Leap (1989)

Pairing: Sam/Al

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Sam deals with the traditions of Valentine's Day.

tags: POV First Person, leap home AU, holidays, Valentine's Day, rimming, penetration, established relationship,

Notes: You don't have to have read the others in my Traditions universe, although of course I'd love it if you did. Sam's been home since about September, and has shacked up with Al – at first to get his memories in tow, but as they shared their mutual attraction for each other, it became more permanent.

I started this series in 2001, and I had this story as a WIP (up until Ziggy's comment about the security cameras) and had stopped it, not knowing where I was going with it. It was a combination of Jen Rossman doing a live tweet rewatch of the original series on Twitter and J.D. Rush posting her latest Harmony stories that caused Sam to start talking to me again. But since the Traditions series was originally written in 2001, I have these set in the early 2000s.

Thanks to JD Rush and AngelWithInk for the beta and help with writing.

Gift for mgraylorn, since their latest QL story is also partially responsible for this getting finished.

And yes: Angelo's is blatantly stolen from BBC Sherlock. If it bothers you that badly, assume that BBC Sherlock's Angelo has a younger lookalike twin cousin who moved to New Mexico and started up his own restaurant there. ;-)

Al's outfit for Valentine's Day can be seen here.

Al's car (Headcanon that we all give Al our dream car at least once. This is my turn.) can be seen here. 

Sam's gift to Al: can be seen here. 

 Leap of Love

 

February 1.

Sam:

The date on the calendar stared at me, taunting me. February 14. Valentine's Day. It was only two weeks away, and I still had no idea what to do.

Part of it was because of our situation. The two of us had unofficially agreed to keep our relationship quiet. It wasn't that we were ashamed, per se, although I was leery of saying anything to my family – but that was more to do with the knowledge that they weren't, and never have been, big fans of Al. Combine that with the fact that I couldn't tell them why I had been out of touch for the past five years made me extremely hesitant to tell them anything.

The quiet around the staff members, however, came about because they did know why I had been out of touch for the past five years. Al and I, while never talking about it, were both aware that my dependence on him during the leaps may very well be part of the reason our friendship has grown into so much more. Bena, based on some of the questions she'd been asking me during our last couple of sessions, definitely suspected something (or outright knew, but was waiting for me to admit it first).

I blushed as I thought about how our relationship had changed since that fateful December day when I caught Al lighting Ruthie's menorah. And blushed even deeper as I remembered my somewhat botched attempt to ratchet it up to the next level on New Year's.

If Al was an Alberta, tradition would dictate I shower her with flowers and jewelry – very public displays of the affection I had. In the timeline where I was married to Donna, from what I remembered, she had expected me to go all out, her insecurity about her father still a small part of her personality.

But the other reason I was unsure as to what to do was Al himself. Al, God love him, was being more careful about this relationship than I was, as I found out during that night where we talked about the Calavicci Curse, afraid I was going to leave him like everyone else had.

He wasn't big on presents, making the ones he did give – like the key to the apartment that night, and the making of the stew – mean that much more. I could give him a gag gift – a trip to the local erotica shop, where I had bought the gay porn for New Year's, had shown me plenty of options if I went that route; everything from blow-up sheep to chairs that had vibrators as part of them were available to buy. But that, I felt, would send the wrong message. We had started new traditions since December, and I wanted to use the traditional day of love to show him how much I did indeed love him and that I wouldn't leave him. I had vowed, after all, to cure him of that curse.

But I had already given him my heart, my body, my soul. What else could I give him? I gave a brief ironic chuckle as the thought of me proposing to him flitted across my mind. I had been thinking about the next traditional step to our relationship, but knew it would have to come after we were comfortable with it at least around the staff. I wasn't a big fan of the 'ambush' proposal, and had a feeling Al would kick my ass from one side of the complex to the other if I did anything like a public one, so that ruled out either of those options.

I also had to worry about the fact that Al may very well not be planning anything for me. Like I said, he wasn't big on presents – too much time not getting them himself. Christmas had been relatively minimal, a DVD player and a few movies, and each gift was presented with the excuse of making up for the five Christmases I hadn't been home.

I also had to contend with the fact that in the current timeline, he hadn't had many serious relationships during our friendship, Ruthie and Beth having both died before I even met him. His one with Tina didn't really happen until after I had started leaping, and I was never quite sure how serious it had been before he began developing feelings for me and how much of his tales were just that – stories to keep me distracted. So, I couldn't give him anything too big (or that meant too much), just in case he didn't get me anything, as otherwise it would make him feel guilty for not reciprocating.

I sighed in frustration. This wasn't the first time these thoughts had been running around in my head. I began thinking about what to do shortly after New Year's, as soon as the hearts and chocolates started showing up in the grocery store, and I was no closer to a resolution now than when I first started.

And the worst part was that I didn't have anyone to really talk it over with, shoot ideas with. Tradition dictated those kinds of conversations be handled by the best friend, so what happened when the best friend was the subject of conversation?

"Ziggy?" I tentatively asked. She knew both of us better than we knew ourselves sometimes, but I also remembered she had a bad habit of being a huge gossip – in any timeline.

"Yesssssssssssssssssssssss?" she drawled in an imitation of a 1-900 number.

"Have a non-work-related question for you," I said hesitantly.

"Oh, goodie," she sighed. "Not that I'm complaining, but since you've leaped home, Dr. Beckett, it has been extremely dull for me at the Project. I would love to be able to focus my no longer required extensive knowledge, no matter how mundane the request is."

I kept my sarcasm to myself, knowing it would only hurt me in the long run if I did say anything. "I was wondering if you knew what Al had given Tina for Valentine's Day the last couple of years."

"Oooooohhhh," she said, the one word laced with so much more meaning. "Are you planning on getting Dr. Martinez something this year? I overheard Dr. Gushman discussing the idea of proposing to her, you know."

I grinned, glad that Gooshie was finally comfortable with the fact that Al and Tina were over to make that leap of faith. "Uh, not exactly," I said, thinking of how best to word the request without giving myself away. And Ziggy's response gave me my idea. "Since Al's not dating her anymore, I was thinking of getting him something myself," I said, then quickly added as explanation, "to make up for me leaping."

"Is that right?" Ziggy asked with the inflection to make me realize she didn't buy my story but was willing to continue for the sake of her curiosity and relieving her boredom. "Well, last year, the Admiral and Dr. Martinez were already having issues, as his workload was keeping him very busy." I sighed at the guilt the phrase brought me – my last year of leaping was quite hectic, and I knew Al had been running ragged just to keep everything afloat. "However, I did overhear Dr. Martinez talking to one of the other technicians by the women's restroom, stating he gave her something called a 'big O'. Perhaps you can give him one of those?"

I blushed down to my toes, the visual of Al in the throes of orgasm filtering through my brain. While we hadn't exactly been at it like rabbits since New Year's, we also hadn't been monks either. As we explored all the various ways to bring each other pleasure in the bedroom over the past month, each time we got to the actual penetration, I had let him top me. It was my choice. We didn't talk about it, the rapes he experienced in the war, outside of acknowledging that it was part of the reason why he had a better knowledge than I did as to what to do in the bedroom. But as a result, I wanted to make our union as good as possible, knowing he would need to be in control. I was okay with that. After all, I was used to him taking control.

And I blushed again as I remembered the erotic thrill I felt when Al had snapped my belt against my chest that first time we had made love. We hadn't quite explored the area of S&M just yet, and I knew that would take almost as long for Al to try as me topping him. Part of me wondered what it would be like to be on the other end of things, but that would be something Al would have to give me.

"Uh, I don't think so, Ziggy," I said, carefully controlling my voice.

"But why not? I'm sure he'd enjoy getting one from you, Dr. Beckett."

And that's when I had to chuckle. "You already know, don't you?" I couldn't help but ask.

"I have been eagerly awaiting the union between you and the Admiral for quite some time," she said – and I could've sworn she was smirking somehow.

"Have you now?" I asked with a smile.

"I only wish that your house had been fitted with the security cameras we have on site, as that would let me observe whether the union matched what I had anticipated," she said, this time with almost a purr.

"Well, that's not creepy at all."

"Surely you and the Admiral would be up for videotaping your next intimate encounter?"

I thumped the desk with my head in exasperation, muttering, "Why me?"

"You only have yourself to blame, Dr. Beckett," she replied, hearing me despite the lowness of my voice.

I just sighed. I wasn't going to win, and I don't know why I even tried. So I just blazed forward. "I've been trying to figure out what to get him. Any suggestions?"

"Perhaps a trip somewhere? You two have been working quite a lot lately."

I hesitated. Maybe something to talk over with Al, but, "That's a bit much for what I want to do. I'm afraid he may not get me anything, and I don't want to create a big fuss."

"Well, then, the only thing I can suggest is that you get him something he actually needs or could use. That way, you could say it was a regular gift if you are correct in your assumption."

"Huh," I said, somewhat surprised. "That's actually a good idea, Zig. Any recommendations as to something that fits those requirements?"

"Why, of course, Dr. Beckett." And my computer screen suddenly filled with an assortment of photos. I scrolled a bit, and then suddenly smiled. I had my gift. "Thanks, Ziggy. You're the best."

"So does that mean you will let me watch the next time you have sexual congress?"

I had to get her something else to do.

*****

February 14.

I stood in our bedroom, fiddling with the box that held Al's present. It was wrapped, but nothing overly fancy. And I had to admit: I was a little nervous. Not only because of the gift, but because I had been thinking over our relationship and whether we were ready for the next steps.

Al had suggested we go out for dinner for the evening. When I reluctantly questioned him about whether that would be a good idea for the two of us to be publicly seen together on Valentine's Day, he said it was all right and that he had made reservations at Angelo's.

We had discovered it years ago, and it was the best Italian restaurant in Stallion's Gate (I mean, it HAD to be good if Al liked it), it was one of those that wasn't too formal but not too casual either. It had secluded tables and a darkened atmosphere that let us have dinner in relative privacy, and as such had been one of the few places we went out on public 'dates'.

Al had gotten dressed while I was in the shower, and left me alone to change out of my work clothes and into something more appropriate for the evening.

I ended up choosing dark dress jeans and a polo shirt reminiscent of the one I wore on New Year's, although this one was a dark blue. I stood in front of the mirror, still somewhat surprised to see my own reflection in it, and thought about how I wanted the evening to go. Hopefully, Al wouldn't make that big of a deal over the present and we could just have a nice romantic night out. I'd rather focus on us. I quickly put said present into my jeans pocket, splashed myself with some CK One cologne, and headed out to Al, who was waiting for me in the living room.

I stepped into the room, and gave a smile when I saw how Al was dressed. A bright red suit jacket covered a shirt that was a whirl of colors – black, white, and red – that matched the jacket. It was tucked into a pair of black slacks that hung easily on him. As usual, the outfit would look wrong on anyone else, and yet on Al was perfect. He glanced at me, taking me in from head to toe, and gave a leer in response. "I keep forgetting how good you clean up, Sammy. You look great in blue." I blushed, as I'm sure he intended.

"What about you?" I asked, gesturing to his outfit. "You look positively edible."

"Oh, I'll give you something to nibble on," he said, giving a small thrust of his hips.

"Al! You are incorrigible."

He gave another wicked smile, wiggling his eyebrows. "And that's why ya love me," he said, rocking on his feet.

I couldn't help myself. I walked over to him and gave him a quick peck on the lips. "Damn right I do."

He gave me that shy smile he has when he's flustered, and as expected, changed the subject. "You ready to go?"

"Just let me get my wallet and keys, and I'll be good."

We walked to his car – a bright red classic 1963 Corvette convertible he had bought himself to celebrate me leaping home – and I got in the passenger seat. As he got ready to take off, I gently put my hand over his on the gearshift and gave it a slight squeeze. He gave me that smile that is only for me, and started driving.

The trip to Angelo's was peaceful. Al focused on the road, while I let my eyes wander to the scenery passing by. It was a calm kind of quiet – the type you have when you know the other person so well that conversation isn't required. As the landscape flew past, I thought back over our relationship, and realized I really did love this strange little man who had become so vital to my life.

Just as I was about to say something, though, we arrived. Al parked the car and we went in, five feet apart as if we were just good friends, and walked up to the maître d. Al gave his name, and we were escorted to a quiet corner and sat down.

I picked up the menu that was already on the table, even though we had both been here enough times to where I didn't need it. "So, what are you thinking about for dinner?"

He glanced at it for a moment, then said, "I was thinking the salmon creme fraiche pasta. It's been a while since I've had it. What about you?"

"Probably the chicken piccata," I replied. I felt myself drool a little as I thought about how the soft flavor of the chicken combined with the bite of lemon, but the noodles and the cream sauce were like a smooth after thought.

"Good choice," he said, and then the waiter arrived. We ordered some garlic bread for an appetizer and some drinks. A glass of Sauvignon Blanc for me, while Al ordered a glass of Aplós Calme, one of the few non-alcoholic wines on their menu.

After the waiter left, I scrounged into my pocket and pulled out the present. "You don't have to reciprocate, Al, but happy Valentine's Day."

He looked at me with surprise, an awed smile abruptly crossing his face. "Aw, Sammy – you didn't have to get me anything."

"I know, but I wanted to give you something to celebrate the day."

"Tradition?" he asked knowingly. I nodded, and he held up the package like he was trying to figure out what was in it.

"You know you can just open it, right?" I smirked, and he gave me that look of exasperation he does so well.

He unwrapped the box, and opened it ... and a small gasp came out of his mouth. He pulled out a silver cigar cutter, rectangular in shape. On one side, the name of the company (S. T. Dupont) was there, and on the other was engraved with the name 'Calavicci'. "Aw, babe – it's beautiful. I can't wait to use it."

"Just make sure the smoking stays outside," I mock-lectured. He nodded in agreement, and put the cutter back in the box and back on the table.

He then reached into the folds of his jacket, and brought out a package of his own. "Now I don't feel so bad about getting you this," he said with another grin. "Happy Valentine's Day, hon."

I took the gift, and unconsciously did the same thing he did – examine it over as if I could figure out what it was by sheer will alone. I looked up and saw Al desperately trying not to lob my comment back to me, and so I unwrapped it. It was a book – a copy of A Brief History of Time. I looked at him with a small frown – as I already had a copy and he well knew it. "Look at the front page," he said, gesturing.

I opened the book, and on the title page was a note.

 

Dear Sam,

You were right and I was wrong. Time travel does exist. Congratulations on your accomplishments.

- Stephen Hawking

 

"How ...?" I asked, the rest of the sentence trailing off.

"I talked to a few friends who got me in contact with him. He said it was a pleasure. Ziggy helped me get it to the US."

By this point, our garlic bread and drinks had arrived, and I put the book gently down to grab a piece while it was still hot.

"You're incredible," I said as I took a bite.

"Yeah? Well, you're extraordinary," he replied and took a drink.

There was a moment of quiet while we both munched on the bread. I thought back to my thoughts from the drive, and made a decision.

"Al?" I asked, bringing his attention back up from the bread. "I was hoping we could talk for a bit."

"Oh, boy," he sighed. "You know it's never a good sign in a relationship when they use THAT phrase, right, kid?"

I blinked in astonishment. Did he really think ... ? "I love you, Al," I said quickly to reassure him. "In fact, I was thinking it was time."

"Time?"

"To start letting people know," I said, not quite looking at him. "About us."

What he was going to say was interrupted by our meals being presented, and we both quickly leaned back to let the waiter serve us.

We spent a few moments with our food, the mood somewhat broken. But as the silence grew while we ate, I could tell Al was not going to bring up the subject on his own. So, I started again, fiddling with my silverware. "I know you're worried about whether our relationship is a side effect of me leaping ...."

"Sam ..." he started.

"And I don't plan on telling my family just yet," I interrupted, still looking down. "That's an argument I'm willing to wait on. Just the staff – specifically Verbeena, as she's been giving me looks during our sessions – and the few friends we have that aren't connected to PQL."

"Sam ..." Al started again.

"And it's not like I want to shout it from the rooftops," I interrupted again. "I know you've got the Navy to deal with, and we're both well-known enough in certain circles that coming out as a couple is going to cause a bit of a problem regardless ...."

"Sammy ..." he tried one more time.

"But if there's one thing leaping has taught me," I continued, wanting to get this out, "is that time is precious, and we've got to take what life gives us. I love you, Al, and love is love, regardless of what people look like. And I want to share what we are with the people we love best. Besides ...."

"SAMUAL JOHN BECKETT, will you shut up and let me talk?" Al said, his Admiral voice in full effect. It made me snap my eyes back up to his ... and saw only love.

"I love you, Sam, but you gotta stop being such a saint when it comes to me. I'm not a piece of glass easily broken, ya know." He took a breath, and put his hand on top of mine. "I happen to agree with you on almost all of your points. Especially Verbeena, as she's been giving me the stink eye as well," he continued with a chuckle.

"Almost all my points?" I couldn't help but repeat, a little uneasy.

"Well, since we're talkin' about our 'feelings'," he started, and I swear to God I could hear the air quotes, "I've been doin' some thinking of my own. And I've decided I'm going to announce my retirement from the Navy here in a month or so."

"Al?" I questioned, knowing how much he loved the Navy. I busied my mouth with my dinner, not wanting to say more.

"It's not because of our new development," he said, taking another small bite of his food. "Or not JUST because," he clarified. "Now that PQL is wrapping up, they've been hinting that they want to transfer me to Washington, DC, to a more bureaucratic position. I think I used one too many favors over the past few years," he tried to joke.

He gave my hand a squeeze, and softly said, "I was gone from you for five years, Sam. I'm not gonna do that again."

I just gaped at him, thrown by his foray into 'mushiness'.

"I don't know what to say," I finally got out. "I'm ... I'm honored, Al. That means a lot."

"Hey, kid – I'm not gettin' any younger, ya know. And as I said, I agree with all your other points. Especially that last one. I'm gettin' a little tired of being in the closet myself."

We both took a few moments feasting, letting the silence hijack the conversation once more. 

"So, how was your piccata?" he asked, pointing at my near empty plate with his fork, and I could tell it was an intentional change in subject. I let it slide, knowing that was about as much sentiment as I was going to get out of him for the time being.

"It was heavenly," I replied, and took a last bite. I swallowed, picked up my wine to take a drink, and returned, "And your food?"

"Oh, it was delectable. It was salty, creamy, and slipped down easily."

I choked on my drink as his voice made the food sound much more seductive, and I could feel myself start to harden at the visual he presented. His wicked smile as I choked showed me it was 100% intended.

"Oh, yeah?" I said after clearing my throat. "You like things that are salty and creamy, do you?"

"Only from certain cooks," he said, the desire evident in his eyes.

"Al!"

"What can I say?" he asked, and I felt his foot starting to play with mine. When did he take off his shoe? "It's a very sexy dish ... kinda like you." He took a final bite, letting his tongue curl over the fork, his dark-eyed gaze boring into me, leaving no doubt what else he'd like to be doing with that tongue.

As I was about to respond, the waiter returned. "Would the gentlemen like to order dessert?"

"I know what *I* want for dessert," I heard Al mutter quietly as his foot started to move higher.

"Uh, two pieces of Tiramisu, please," I said, trying to keep it together.

"Of course, gentlemen," the waiter said. "It'll be right out."

"Albert Francis Calavicci," I said as soon as the waiter left. "You are a bad, bad man."

"Oh, but I can be very good if I have the right incentive," he said, his foot rubbing my lower thigh by this point. "As you well know."

"Oh, have mercy on me," I wheezed, and winced, my underwear feeling a bit tight by now.

Before Al could continue his flirtation, the waiter returned, bringing us our dessert. I took a breath, trying to get myself under control. Only for said control to be shattered as Al moved his foot up to my shaft, lightly pressing against it.

"Here you are, gentlemen. Was everything to your satisfaction?"

I just sat there, gripping my fork tight, desperately trying not to display any reaction on my face as Al let his foot massage me, the waiter standing by.

"Oh, I found everything quite enjoyable," Al said with another press of his foot.

As soon as the waiter left, I murmured, "You are diabolical." I took a bite of the Tiramisu, and unintentionally let out a small moan at the taste. "Oh, this is almost better than sex," I said, the words leaving my mouth before I really thought about it.

Al looked at me, his fork halfway to his mouth, and growled, "If you think this is better than sex, then I'm not doing my job satisfactorily."

"I said 'almost'." I took a breath, knowing what I was about to say was only going to come back to bite me in the proverbial butt, and bravely went ahead. "Nothing can compare to you in bed, lover."

"You. Bet. Your. Sweet. Ass. It. Doesn't," he said, each word punctuated with a nudge of his foot against my shaft.

I cleared my throat. "Check, please!" I squeaked, getting the waiter's attention.

Later That Night (Here be the explicit lovin'!)

The drive home was apprehensive, the air between us filled with sexual tension. I gripped the door tight, not looking at him, while Al drove recklessly, avoiding traffic and yelling at those few who dared to get in his way. "May you eat stale candy corn!" he had yelled at a car at one point.

We had just barely made it through the door when we crashed together, lips meeting in a violent kiss. We stumbled through the living room, undressing each other as we went, discarding clothes onto the floor as they came free. By the time we hit the bedroom, we only had our underwear to go. Al pushed me onto the bed, de-pantsing me as he did. "Turn over, Sam. I've got something special for ya."

"I bet you do," I quipped, rolling over as I did.

"Who's being naughty now?" he teased, smacking my bottom with a hand. I whined in reaction, still somewhat surprised at the hint of pleasure the act caused.

I crawled up a bit to give him room to get on the bed, and I heard him shuffle off his own underwear. The bed dipped as he got on, and I felt his hands flutter up my sides. "On your knees, babe. I'm gonna take you apart."

I slowly raised myself up onto my hands and knees as requested, already panting with need. I felt him lean over and give a sweet tongue flick of a kiss on my nape. I closed my eyes at the desire flowing through me. He then moved down, kissing my upper back, and slowly started progressively going further down. Down, down, down, and ... "Al?" I breathed, my eyes flying open, as I felt his lips on the upper part of my butt.

As his hands spread my cheeks, I heard him say, "Trust me, babe."

"Always," I sighed, turning my head so he could see my consent. And his tongue started circling my hole. I stuttered out a curse as I felt it slowly breach me, flicking the inside with kittenish licks. One of his hands grasped my butt, and the other started to caress my hip. My head dropped in my lust, unable to maintain much of my stance.

His tongue penetrated me, and I felt my arms quiver in reaction. "Oh my God," I said, shaking with desire. "What ... how ... when?" I continued, barely able to speak.

Al stopped briefly, and said, "I've done this to a few of my girlfriends. First time with a guy, though. You're so hot in there, Sammy. So tight." And then he went back to licking my hole, kissing it. No: fucking it, tongue darting in and out, making me mewl with pleasure. I could feel the slight burn of his five o'clock shadow, and it only elevated my want for more.

I closed my eyes tight again, letting the sensations flow over me. After a particularly incisive jab from Al's tongue, I could feel a drop of precum come out of me and roll down my shaft. "Oh, fuck!" I said, the swear escaping me. "More!" I gave an inadvertent thrust, wanting – nay, yearning for friction.

"Yeah, Sammy," Al rasped, his hand that was on my hip moving to grasp me. "That's it. Let me hear ya, babe," he said, and then went back to having his tongue invade me.

"Oh, Al!" I wailed, trembling. "Please touch me. PleasePleasePlease," I begged, almost incoherent.

"Tell me what you want, angel," he said, his hand barely ghosting over my manhood. "Let me hear your words." And I felt his tongue pierce my most private space yet again, this time alternating between that and licking my balls.

"OhGod, OhGod, OhGod," I chanted, thrusting forward in the hope that I would make contact with his hand. "Touch me!" I repeated.

"Oh, you want me to touch you?" he asked, leaning back a bit, creating space between us. "You want me to touch you here?" and moved his hands back to my butt, giving a quick peck to each cheek.

"Al!" I cried in distress.

"Oh, not there? Well, how about here?" and the hands moved to my shoulders, licking my upper back.

My voice was a high pitch keen at this point. I could feel myself throbbing in agony. "Please!" I tried again.

"What about here?" he asked, giving my nape another kiss as he ran his fingers through my hair.

"Just touch my dick!" I finally shouted.

"Oh, looks like the Boy Scout has a dirty mouth after all," he said, giving me another smack on my butt.

"Al, I'm hurting here! Quickly!"

"Hey," he said, kissing the place where he just had struck me, "the longer the wait, the better the reward, baby doll."

"I'm about rewarded out here," I growled. "I am so ready for you. Take me already!"

"Your command is my wish," he said.

I felt him lean over and heard a cabinet drawer open and close. A snap of a lid was next, and then, "Oh, yes!" I squealed as I felt his index finger trace my pucker, echoing what he had done with his tongue. I could feel the lube dripping down my crack, and all I wanted was more.

Well, one good thing my five years of leaping did was that Al and I could have complete conversations without saying a single word. Without further ado, he bent forward, and slowly pushed his finger in. There was little resistance, his tongue having already opened me slightly, and I moaned.

"Oh, Sammy," he said, his voice overflowing with reverence. "God, I love you so much." He continued fingering me for a few seconds. He gave me another kiss, this time on my lower back, and proceeded to add a second finger.

By this point, I could feel my balls start to tighten, and I was hard enough to break glass. "Oh, God, Al, I'm close!"

He quickly moved one hand to the base of my shaft, squeezing slightly. "Nuh-uh," he said. "Not quite yet. I want this to last."

"Dear sweet merciful heaven," I said, by this point sobbing with lust. He answered by adding a third finger to the assault. I started babbling by this point. There was a moment of silence, the only sound comprised of our two breaths synching together. He swiftly pushed in again, brushing my prostate on each plunge. "MoreMoreMoreMore!"

"You got it, toots," he said. Contrary to his words, he pulled his fingers out and I swallowed at the sense of emptiness I could feel.

"Al, please!"

I felt him shift, and I realized what was coming. We had dispensed the use of condoms a few weeks after New Year's, as I had our blood tests rushed through to confirm we were both clean. I felt him grasp my hips once more, teasing my entrance with the tip of his dick, and I groaned in anticipation.

"Have you been a good boy, Sammy?" he asked.

"God, I hope so," I replied, pushing back against him in demand. "Do it, Al. Make me yours."

He ever-so-slowly pushed in, and I howled as I could feel him fill me up. "Ah, Sam!" he roared out, pulling back and ramming back in.

"Oh, my God!" My breath was ragged, and I was barely holding on.

Our gasping pants grew faster as his hips matched the rhythm, and I felt myself falling apart as he had promised.

"Fuck me! Fuck me! FUCK ME!" I sputtered, and I could feel him tense in delight at my use of the curse.

He pushed in again, bellowing something incoherent. As he pulled out, he moved his right hand to my dick, and started stroking: each stroke matching a push of the hips.

"Please let me come!"

He sighed in contentment, and whispered, "As you wish." And he quickened his pace.

I could feel myself tighten up in anticipation, by now my dick completely covered in precum. He continued to drive into me, each lunge hitting my happy place. And with a final cry, I could feel him come, his semen filling me up. The sensation triggered my own release, my climax hitting me like a freight train.

As I finished, I flopped down onto the bed, not caring if I landed in the wet spot. I could feel Al drop down next to me, and he rolled over to his back. We took a moment and caught our breath.

I moved my head to the upper bit of his shoulder, rolled over to my side to face him, and nuzzled his upper chest. "That was fantastic," I said in between nibbles.

"I would hope so, otherwise I'd have to wonder whether you had nerve damage."

"Smart ass," I said, giving him a playful smack on his arm.

"Hey – better a smart one than a dumb one," he said, making me giggle. He lifted the shoulder I was currently laying on. "C'mon, Sam. We need to clean up."

"Can't," I mumbled, nestling in further. "Busy cuddling."

"Sam," he said with exasperation, "you know how not-fun it is to scrub off dried semen. Let me up."

"Are you sure you want me to let you go?" I asked, and leaned up to give him a heated kiss.

"Will never let you go, Sammy," he said as soon as he was able. "But ya gotta let me get something to wash off that gorgeous chest of yours."

I sighed and laid back down, knowing he was right. "Damn you for being the reasonable one for a change."

He caressed my cheek, kissing me on my nose to counter the sweetness of the act. "I promise I'll be right back."

As he stood off the bed, I closed my eyes, thinking it would only be for a few seconds. But the next thing I knew, Al was shaking my shoulder with his hand. "Sam, I hate to wake you, but I got the washcloth for ya."

I grumbled, rolling over to my side to face him on the bed. "I wasn't asleep," I argued.

"So I guess that buzzing sound was just someone cuttin' down some trees in our bedroom?" he joked, moving the washcloth over my chest reverently.

"I don't snore!" I said, the argument as old as our relationship.

"Yeah, you do," he replied, wiping the rest of my come off me. "Come on – get under the covers, and we'll take care of the blanket tomorrow."

I did as he requested, and as we both settled into the bed, I gave him another kiss. "I love you, Al."

"Love you, too, kid. Happy Valentine's Day."

"Happy Valentine's Day indeed," I said with a grin. "I could definitely see this being part of a new tradition," I continued.

"I like the way you think." And with that, we fell asleep – ready for the next adventure.

fin 07/31/2024