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She hasn't told a soul in the world about her impending divorce, not even her family, who would undoubtedly give her all the support in the world. There's only one person she wants, no, needs to see right now, and she's standing at the door of his apartment at 3 in the morning because she cannot wait any longer. She knocks, softly at first, and then louder, her heart racing in her chest, nerves causing her entire body to quiver, so afraid that she's too late. 

 

The sound of gentle footsteps, bare feet against wooden floorboards can be heard before the door swings open and she's face to face with Sam.

 

Sam, the man who had haunted her dreams since the moment they met.

 

Sam, who had bared his heart and soul to her the night she broke the news of her engagement to him.

 

Sam, her co-star, the man whose body she knew almost as well as her own, the smell of his aftershave always lingering in her senses long after they finish a scene together.

 

Sam, standing there bare-chested and wearing only his boxers, rubbing at his eyes with the back of one hand, confusion across his features as he registers that she's there in front of him.

 

"Cait, is something wrong? What happened?"

 

She doesn't answer him, can't find the words to do it, so she simply throws herself forward, wrapping her arms around him as she buries her face against his chest and begins to cry.

 

He doesn't say any more, just holds her as she breaks down, as the pain and stress of holding back her feelings seep from her body like a hurricane of emotions. She hears him close the door behind him and allows him to usher her further into his apartment, relishing the feel of his arms around her.

 

Them, Sam and Caitríona, no one else. 

 

She refuses to let him go, even as he guides her to sit down beside him on his sofa, stroking her hair and holding her close. He's exactly the kind of man that the world thinks he is, gentle and loving, and so fiercely protective of those he cares for. 

 

Eventually, the tears stop coming, and she pulls back, trying to find his eyes in the dim lighting. She cannot control herself, having him so close, feeling his warmth seeping into her bones. Her hand raises without her realising until she feels the coarse stubble of his unshaven cheek beneath her fingertips, and she's leaning in, trying to find comfort in the man she is now willing to admit she loves.

 

He pulls back, and she can feel a crack in her heart.

 

"Cait, we can't, it isn't right."

 

She was wrong, the tears never did seem to stop. The guilt on his face hurts as much as his rejection, and she shakes her head trying to clear her thoughts.

 

"Do you not want me anymore?"

 

He looks shocked, confused at her words, and then he's smiling.

 

"If ever a day were to come where I didn't want you, the world would surely be ending."

 

She smiles, hope surging in her chest, but still he keeps a distance between them.

 

"But we can't do this. You're married, and it wouldn't be right."

 

She wants to throw her head back and laugh at the hilarity of the situation, but she simply reaches for his hands, lacing their fingers together, waiting for him to notice, to say anything.

 

Caitr íona can see the moment realisation dawns in his eyes, the sharp intake of breath and the way his gaze seems to penetrate the very depths of her soul.

 

"I'm yours," she whispers, slowly breathing in herself, inching closer until their lips are almost touching. "If you'll have me."

 

She doesn't know who moves first but it doesn't matter, because a moment later she's crawling into his lap and their lips are fused together, hands moving frantically, trying to take hold of anything and everything in reach. 

 

"God, I want you Cait," he breathes, rocking his hips against hers.

 

"Then take me."

 

He stands abruptly, arms wrapped firmly around her waist as she wraps her legs around his, anchoring herself to him as he walks them towards his bedroom. She remembers another time, years ago when they did this, not as themselves but for the cameras, and quickly shakes the memory from her mind.

 

They're here, together, now.

 

By the time he lays her down upon his sheets, he has already managed to slide a hand up her dress and unhook her bra, so it takes only moments before they're almost entirely undressed, his boxers and her panties the only barriers between them.

 

He begins an almost torturous worship of her body, kissing her neck and running his tongue along her collarbone as his hands span her waist and hips, grabbing her arse and squeezing. She cries out when he reaches her breasts, his stubble scratching against her skin before he finally brings his lips to her nipples. 

 

Caitr íona knows all too well how it feels to have his mouth on her breasts, the pleasure that comes with his tongue, rouge against her nipple, the way his teeth dig into her tender flesh. She gives in to the pleasure now, burying her hands in his hair and whimpering, unable to control the sounds that escape her.

 

"I knew those noises weren't just for show," he mutters, drawing a soft laugh from her before she's urging him to hurry up. They'll have all the time in the world now, to make love, slowly and sinfully, to desecrate every surface of his apartment and hers, but before that comes to pass, she needs to feel him inside her, to know what it is like to be fucked by him.

 

"Sam, please, I can't wait any longer."

 

He looks up at her with a wicked grin, and before she can take another breath, he's torn off her panties, ripped them at the seam and tossed them over his shoulder. She can already feel the bruises that will form with the way his hand is gripping her hip, fingers digging into her skin, and watches as he shoves his boxers all the way down before taking a firm hold of his cock.

 

God, he was magnificent.

 

She doesn't get much of a chance to admire him before he's sheathed himself inside her, and they become lost to the sensations between them. He's hard, like rock, like steel, and pounding furiously into her, making her lose her train of thought. 

 

"I could fuck you for the rest of my life Cait. Being inside your body, if I were to die now surely even heaven would not compare."

 

"I.. Oh God... would prefer it... Christ... if you were alive."

 

She can barely string a sentence together, too focused on reaching the peak that is building within her.

 

"Do you know how many times I had to take care of myself before a scene just so I wouldn't lose it with your body against me? Do you know what you do to me, Caitríona?"

 

She's lost all ability to speak now, and can only moan in response, but it's enough to spur him to pick up the pace.

 

"I love you, and I'll always love you."

 

It's these words, the hard circles his calloused thumb is rubbing against her clit and the rasp of his stubble against her cheek that has her clenching around him, black around the edges of her vision. He thrusts inside her once, twice and three more times before he's gone, spending himself within her, his sweat-slicked body collapsing upon her.

 

"I love you, I love you, I love you," he murmurs, pressing kiss after kiss against her flushed skin. 

 

"I love you too," she responds because even though those three words are so terrifying to her, he deserves to hear him, to know the truth of her feelings. 

 

"I love you, Sam," she whispers, cradling his head against her chest, drawing a finger across the line of his jaw and smiling to herself.