Shawn and Sam- Part I
Sam peers around the living-room that houses the people she calls family. Her mother looks rather cheerful sitting in the corner, a slight flush on her cheeks. Sam can’t help but wonder if she hit the sauce early this year, then immediately decides to find said stash.
Her dad is in his favorite chair, pretending to be asleep, but Sam knows he, like her, is just passing the time, having made his appearance. Her nieces and nephew- all four of them- are spread throughout the room, surrounded by piles of crumpled paper, comparing their latest gifts, and sharing-rather loudly -their great delight.
Sam’s brother and his wife have smiles plastered on their faces, but Sam can tell the pleasant expressions are forced. Both looked exhausted, only cementing Sam’s stance against her mother’s constant questioning about when she, Sam, will have children. Her relationship status of single seemingly notwithstanding.
When the doorbell rings, Sam knows who it is. He’s the reason she still attends family events. Why Shawn still does, even though this isn’t his family, is beyond her. But dutifully, each and every holiday, Shawn is here. As of a few years ago, his trip became a few hundred miles, and yet, he hasn’t missed so much as a Fourth of July.
They had grown up together. Shawn, her brother’s best friend, although the two had drifted apart over the last few years. Sam’s brother had his opinions about Shawn’s persistent bachelorhood that Shawn thought were none of his business. Sam tended to agree with him.
Having a tough childhood, Sam’s mum had quickly claimed Shawn as one of her own and treated him much the same. Perhaps sometimes better because he didn’t cause all the imagined stresses they did. As teens, Shawn and Sam had learned they shared a fondness for the kinkier side of things and quickly their relationship bloomed from brother’s best friend and nagging little sister to casual lovers. It suited both well.
When Sam opens the door, a bounce in her step that only came out for him, her smile stretches ear to ear. Finally, she’s saved from the probing questions and damning comments about her work and life. Such as why she hasn’t yet met a nice man and settled down (she wasn’t looking), or how her ovaries aren’t getting any younger (true, but she got to sleep in on weekends). Like her, Shawn enjoyed his career, understanding that it brought its own sense of fulfillment. He was always there to take her side and help point out that marriage and kids had only gotten her brother so far. Happiness is what you want it to be, not what others tell you it is.
“Hi Shawn. Merry Christmas.” Sam says cheerily.
“Merry Christmas, Sam. I brought you something,” Shawn replies, his face lighting up as he hands Sam a glossy black gift box sitting atop the pile he carries, silver bows reflecting the twinkling lights. Judging from the glint in Shawn’s eye, the gift is something for them to use later. When they are alone. The highlight of every Christmas, even and especially because it is just the two of them.
Last year, he gifted her a new detachable shower head, which she has since named Shower Shawn (no, he didn’t know that), to replace the one they’d broken the year before when he had drilled into her in the shower. Sam’s hands grasping onto the nozzle at Shawn’s instruction, the head had snapped right off, dousing Shawn’s face in hot water, and making Sam laugh so hard she’d doubled over with a stitch in her side. That had only earned her a lesson — about it not being polite to laugh at another’s expense — in the form of a spanking with that year’s gift of rubber spatulas, the dishrags that accompanied them stuffed in Sam’s mouth to soften her cries. Sam thought it was the best gift ever! Even if her brother had scoffed about how, it was a bit domestic for the up-and-coming executive that is Sam, in that condescending way of his.
Shawn had thoroughly explained to Sam the intricacies of a detachable showerhead, showing her the different settings and flows by angling it at alternating parts of her body. Lather, rinse, and repeat. They’d enjoyed each other and the new accessory until the water ran cold, and then only reluctantly got out of the two-man stall. Sam had replaced the tank a few weeks ago. Hot water was instant and unlimited now.
A blush crept up Sam’s cheeks as she thought about what this year’s gift might be. He wouldn’t let her leave until she’d opened it, the humiliation, and internal thoughts about what he would do to her with said gift making her squirm in her seat. For her entire family to see. He’d been doing it since they were eighteen- that year’s gift being body lotion that he applied to every inch of her himself- and at thirty, she hoped it would never end.
Sam tries unsuccessfully to hide her smile as she shakes the box. Shawn’s grin grows, as if he knows the thoughts running through her head. He likely does. He’s really great at putting them there.
“Shawn!” comes Sam’s mum’s delighted cry from behind her. “You made it. We could have picked you up from the airport. Did you find a cab okay?”
“No point in missing the festivities so you could pick me up. And cabs are plentiful, and happy for the tip.”
“Oh, pish posh. Sam would have been thrilled to meet you. She hates these things anyway.”
“Yes, Mom, but Shawn never would have made it here. I would have kidnapped him and kept him all to myself and away from all this.” Sam waves her arms around the entry way, overstuffed with ornaments and baubles. Each year, it was like her mother tried to compete with the Santa station at the local mall. She was likely winning.
“You wouldn’t do that to your mother, Sam. I know better.” If only her mom knew how untrue those words were. Shawn did, if his shit-eating grin was anything to go on.
As Shawn passes Sam, ensuring to graze her hip with his overheated palm, Sam can’t help but whisper in his ear, “if only she knew what happens when I have you all to myself.” Which only turns Shawn’s grin into a sexy smile.
With children in the house, there is no time wasted until they’re unwrapping gifts. Sam watches as each member of her family opens theirs from Shawn, each giving him one in return. When finally, it’s Sam’s turn, her hands shake lightly as she rips the tape from the paper.
Inside a plain white box sits three pillar candles, nestled in festive shredded paper. Each a different colour, perfectly matching her bedroom décor. Black, red, and white. Immediately, Sam’s mind floods with images of Shawn pouring hot wax over her nude form, and she presses her thighs together before crossing her legs.
“They’re handmade.” Shawn says beside her. When she looks at him, his eyes are full of heat and hunger, she’s sure mirrors her own. “Made of beeswax, each has a charm hidden inside, only revealing itself once the center becomes liquid.” Sam knows his words are meaning more than the candles.
“They’re beautiful, thank you. Perfect for my bedroom.” Sam’s face flushes scarlet as she looks away, quickly grabbing a box from behind her and handing it to Shawn. “For you.”
Shawn takes his time unwrapping Sam’s present. The rest of the family have gone back to enjoying showing off their new gifts to each other, giving Sam some much needed time to calm her inappropriate thoughts.
“Wow, Sam. Thanks.” Shawn says, holding up the switchblade. “But what’s with the penny?”
“It’s bad luck to gift a knife. It severs the relationship, or so says superstition. Unless you tape a penny to the blade.” Sam’s mom interjects. “But make sure to give the penny back to Sam, or it won’t work.”
“You still want to be my friend, Sam?” Shawn asks playfully, giving Sam a wink and pressing the penny into her palm. Her reply is a red face. “I’m sure I’ll get plenty of use from this,” he continues, giving Sam a knowing look, which does little if nothing to stop the spread of crimson on her cheeks or the ache between her legs.
“Right, well, now that gifts are done, dinner is ready,” says Sam’s mom, unknowingly breaking the tension.
Sam arrives home and sits heavily with a glass of wine. She’s glad it’s over, even if it hadn’t been so bad. Everyone seemed to be on their best behavior this year. Well, except for Shawn, who made a point of sitting to her right at dinner, using his left hand to caress her thigh, keeping her on edge with every bite. When his hand eventually drifted to her center and began massaging with slow, sensual circles, Sam decided it was time to go. She knew Shawn would soon follow.
She didn’t bother changing, knowing Shawn would enjoy the process of undressing her, using it as part of his seduction. Even all these years later, he still made sure it was great for her, even though he knew she was a sure thing.
Sam hears Shawn let himself in using the key she’d given him- in case of emergency, or so she’d said, although they both knew better. He hadn’t returned it when he’d left town, and she hadn’t asked for it, making it clear the door was always open.
When he finds Sam at the dining room table, heels off, her prim and proper sweater discarded and revealing the deep neckline of her little black dress, Shawn devours her with his eyes. With her legs crossed, he can see the line of her stockings peeking out at the back of her thighs. Her eyes are hooded, lids heavy, lips stained red from her wine.
Shawn places a second box on the counter, one matching the candles he gave her, and Sam lifts an eyebrow, the question clear.
“I’m going to ruin your gift. Very soon,” he says, shrugging out of his jacket and rolling up his sleeves. He pours himself a scotch before pulling out the candles and lighting them. “Seems rude not to replace it.”
Sam walks to him, and wordlessly, Shawn slips the switchblade from his pocket. Sam’s eyes widen, and her lips part, but she stays silent as Shawn holds it up and pops out the blade. He doesn’t miss Sam’s audible swallow.
Shawn slides the spine of the blade up and over her shoulder, until she shivers, and gooseflesh rises on her arms. With a quick tug, the sharpened edge splits the thin strap of her barely there dress, the quick action highlighted by Sam’s sharp gasp.
When he cuts the other, the fine hairs on Sam’s body stand on end, bare nipples hardening as her dress flutters around her feet. Shawn’s eyes don’t know where to focus as Sam stands before him, nude except for black lace panties and thigh-high hold-ups. “Now that’s what I call dressed in your Christmas best,” he mutters.
Shawn spins Sam around and pulls her tight against him, letting her feel what she does to him and his cock before skimming the blade across her mid-section, down to her hip and finally cutting through the tiny strings at her hips. Left, then right. “Did you wear these for me?” Shawn asks gruffly, as the slightly moistened lace drops into the pile with her dress. Sam doesn’t bother replying. Shawn already knows the truth. She was only giving him something to remove.
Shawn pushes Sam away from him, so abruptly she braces her arms on the counter. He glides the cool steel down her spine, reaching around with his other arm to feel her breast swell in his hand. When he grazes his thumb over her pert nipple, Sam groans loudly and Shawn smiles and whispers in her ear, “perfection.”
Turning Sam in place once more, Shawn glides the knife’s edge over her heaving chest, letting the sharpened tip bite gently into her areola as he drags it past. “I like my gift, Sam. So far, it’s been very useful. But I think we should try yours. Ready?”
Before she can do more than nod, Shawn is lifting a red candle above her. She looks up in time to see a flash of ruby, then takes a deep inhalation as hot wax collides with the sensitive tip of her breast. While she takes a calming breath, Shawn drops another dallop on the other, smiling when she gives him a look that is equal parts erotic pleasure and burning pain, her moan filling the surrounding space.
Shawn changes colors, dropping white, then black and back to red, until it encrusts Sam’s breasts in a cage of wax. He twirls her around once more, tugging her close and walking them to the patio door, allowing Sam to see their reflections. Long rivulets stream from sternum to hips, a few down each leg. The effect is beautiful and elegant and, if Sam may say so, quite sensual.
When Shawn pulls out the blade once more, Sam is no longer shivering with fear. Her new tremble is pure excitement. Shawn grazes the blade over her mons and lifts the wax seal created there, circling her clit with a single finger. Once Sam’s head rolls back to his shoulder, he stops. Her groan of dismay only widens his smile. He pulls Sam’s leg over his own, opening her to him, and slides his fingers to where she needs them most.
Shawn takes his time peeling the hardened layers from Sam’s flesh, one swipe of the blade at a time. Over her hips and fluttering belly, across her perfect tits and heaving chest, until only tiny spots remain and the floor it littered with curls of multi-colored wax. All the while, his fingers never falter or skip pace.
When Sam’s hips start gyrating against his palm, she finally gives in and pleas, “I need you, Shawn.” That’s all he needs to hear.
Without bothering to get undressed, he removes his hard cock from his fly and spins Sam around once more. “Grab the counter. Don’t let go. This will be fast, but I’ll make it up to you later.” Sam knows his words are true and doesn’t reply before Shawn is pushing into her, making both release a long, contented sigh.
“Welcome home, Shawn.” Sam says blissfully before Shawn begins to move.
“There’s no place I’d rather be, Sam. I’ll always come home for the holidays.”
…Sam and Shawn will return to Ring in the New Year – stay tuned!
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What a delicious story. I love how their gifts complemented each other so perfectly 😉
You have a way of weaving tales, MrsK. Love this! Looking forward to the next part 🙂
~ Marie xox