Please.

She whines, curling her fingers helplessly into the red-head shirt.

I want that.

Want you, Connie?

Fuck!

A puff of warm air hits his skin as Connie laughs,

quiet and fond.

What do you need?

I need you so much,

she says before she can stop herself.

Please, please, con.

The room is quiet enough for Sam to think she's fucked it all up, ruined her friendship with him,

and all she can do is whine when he pulls away. She ducks her head until she catches his eye, something primal lurking behind his gaze. Do you mean that?

I'd do anything. God, please, just for a second!'

She know she's babbling, strings of absolute nonsense pouring from her lips.

She begs as Connie rips his shirt off,

her greedy hands sliding over the toned muscles that dance under her fingertips.

Do you know how to listen, how to stay still and be good?

His voice drips into her ears, thick and smooth like raw honey.

Yeah, yes, I can be good, I promise.

She nods quickly, desperately clinging to Connie,

as if he'll disappear if she eases up for even a moment.

...