#samfender

I take a deep breath as I step onto the tour bus, the hum of the engine vibrating beneath my feet. The air is thick with the scent of coffee, sweat, and a hint of stale beer from last night’s show. It’s surreal to think I’m actually here, part of Sam’s band, the first female backing singer they’ve ever had. Sam’s been my friend since we were teenagers, back when we’d sneak into local pubs to watch him perform with his first band. He’s always been the life of the party, cheeky, funny, and impossibly charming. But now, as I glance around the bus, I feel a mix of excitement and nerves. This is it. My first tour.

The bus is a maze of narrow corridors and cramped bunks, but it’s cozy in a way that feels like home. Sam’s already here, sprawled on the couch with a guitar in his lap, strumming a lazy tune. His light brown hair falls over his forehead, and his blue eyes light up when he sees me. “There she is!” he calls, his voice warm and playful. “Ready to conquer the world, or at least the next town?”

I laugh, dropping my bag by the door. “Something like that. Where’s everyone else?”

“Dean’s in the back trying to fix the coffee machine again. Joe’s probably asleep. And Drew… well, Drew’s Drew. He’s somewhere.” He shrugs, his smile easy and familiar. Sam’s always been like this, effortlessly cute, with a way of making everyone feel at ease. His muscular frame fills out his band tee perfectly, and I can’t help but notice the way his jeans hug his thighs as he shifts on the couch.

“You’re not nervous, are you?” he asks, setting the guitar aside. “First tour and all?”

I shake my head, even though my stomach is doing somersaults. “Just excited. It’s been a dream for so long.”

“Well, you’re gonna kill it,” he says, his tone so certain it makes my chest tighten. Sam’s always been my biggest cheerleader, but there’s something different about the way he looks at me now. It’s like he’s seeing me in a new light, and I can’t quite place why.

The first few weeks of the tour blur together in a whirlwind of shows, late-night drives, and laughter. Sam’s always there, making sure I’m okay. He brings me coffee every morning, even if it’s just instant from the broken machine Dean still hasn’t fixed. He teases me about my obsession with organizing my bunk, and he’s the first to clap when I nail a high note during soundcheck. It’s comforting, having him around, especially since I’m still reeling from the news about my boyfriend.

It happened halfway through the tour. A text from a friend, a screenshot of him with someone else. My world crumbled in an instant. I didn’t want to cry in front of the band, so I locked myself in the bathroom of a gas station, sobbing into my hands. When I finally emerged, Sam was waiting outside, his expression a mix of concern and anger.

“Hey,” he said softly, handing me a bottle of water. “You okay?”

I shook my head, unable to speak.

“Fuck him,” Sam muttered, his voice tight. “He doesn’t deserve you. Not even close.”

His words were like a balm, but they didn’t stop the ache in my chest. Sam stayed with me that night, sitting on the floor of my bunk while I cried and ranted and felt like my heart was being ripped apart. He didn’t try to fix it or offer empty platitudes. He just listened, his presence a quiet anchor in the storm.

Tonight, though, is different. It’s been a a week since the breakup, and the band decided to go out for drinks after the show. The bar is loud, the air thick with the smell of beer and smoke. Sam’s stuck by my side all night, his laughter infectious as he tells a story about Dean trying to cook pasta and setting off the fire alarm.

“You’re really the life of the party, aren’t you?” I tease, clinking my glass against his.

He grins, his eyes sparkling in the dim light. “Someone’s gotta keep you lot entertained. Besides, you’ve been through enough lately. You deserve a night out.”

I smile, but it doesn’t quite reach my eyes. The breakup still feels raw, like an open wound I can’t stop picking at. Sam must sense it, because he reaches out, his hand brushing mine. “You’re gonna be okay,” he says, his voice low and serious. “You know that, right?”

I nod, my throat tight. “Thanks, Sam. For everything.”

By the time we get back to the tour bus, the others are already crashing in their bunks. Sam and I stay up, sitting close on the couch. The alcohol has loosened his tongue, and he’s talking about the early days of the band, when they’d play in tiny pubs for crowds of ten people.

“You should’ve seen us,” he says, laughing. “We were terrible. But we had heart, you know? And that’s what mattered.”

I smile, leaning my head against his shoulder. It’s comfortable, being this close to him. Familiar. But then, out of nowhere, his tone changes. His laughter fades, and he turns to look at me, his blue eyes soft and earnest.

“I’ve always cared about you,” he says, his voice slurred just enough to make my heart skip a beat. “I just… I wanted you to know.”

I freeze, my breath catching in my throat. Sam? Sweet, tentative Sam? I never saw this coming. My mind races as I try to process his words. He’s always been such a good friend, but this… this is different.

“Sam,” I start, but my voice comes out shaky. “I-”

“I know,” he interrupts, his hand brushing my cheek. “You don’t have to say anything. I just… I needed to tell you. I’ve felt this way for a long time, but you’ve always had someone else, and I didn’t want to mess things up.”

I stare at him, my heart pounding. The room feels too small, too quiet. I’ve never thought of Sam like this, but in this moment, with his eyes on me and his hand on my face, it’s hard not to.

“I’m here now,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. “And I need… I need someone to remind me I’m still worth loving.”

His thumb brushes my cheekbone, his touch gentle. “You’re worth everything,” he murmurs, leaning in.

His lips press against mine, soft and tentative at first, like he’s waiting for me to pull away. But I don’t. Instead, I kiss him back, my hands tangling in his hair. It’s awkward at first, our movements clumsy with alcohol and nerves, but then it clicks. His lips are warm, his kiss deep and hungry, and I feel a spark ignite in my chest.

“Sam,” I breathe against his mouth, pulling back slightly. “Are you sure about this?”

He smiles, his eyes half-lidded and dreamy. “More sure than I’ve ever been about anything.”

His words send a shiver down my spine. I’ve never been with Sam like this, but there’s something so right about it. He’s always been my safe space, and tonight, I need that more than ever.

He takes my hand, leading me to his bed at the back of the bus. The space is small, the air warm and stuffy, but I don’t care. Sam pulls me close, his hands gentle as he starts to undo the buttons of my shirt.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his breath hot against my skin. “I’ve always thought so.”

I blush, my heart racing as his lips trail down my neck. His touch is careful, like he’s afraid he might break me. But I’m not fragile. Not tonight.

“Sam,” I whisper, tugging at his shirt. “I want you.”

He looks up, his eyes searching mine, and I see the hesitation in them. “Are you sure? I don’t want to rush you-”

“I’m sure,” I cut him off, pressing a finger to his lips. “I’m sure.”

He nods, his hands moving to my jeans, unbuttoning them slowly. I shiver as he slides them down my legs, his touch sending sparks through my body. I’m wearing lace underwear, and I feel exposed, vulnerable, but Sam’s gaze is so full of admiration it makes me feel powerful.

“You’re perfect,” he says, his voice thick with desire.

I bite my lip as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of my underwear, sliding them down my legs. I’m naked now, and Sam’s eyes rake over me, his expression hungry but still so tender.

“Your turn,” I whisper, reaching for his belt.

He laughs, a soft, nervous sound, as I undo his jeans. His boxers are tight, and I can see the outline of his erection, thick and hard. My heart races as I push his jeans and boxers down, his cock springing free. It’s bigger than I expected, and I feel a flush creep up my cheeks.

“Wow,” I murmur, reaching out to touch him.

He hisses, his head falling back as my hand wraps around him. “Fuck, that’s good.”

I smile, stroking him slowly, savoring the way his muscles tense under my touch. He’s so responsive, his breath coming in short gasps as I explore him.

“Enough teasing,” he groans, pushing my hand away. “I need to taste you.”

Before I can respond, he’s pushing me back onto the bed, his hands gentle as he spreads my legs. His lips brush my thigh, sending a jolt of anticipation through me. I’ve never been with Sam like this, and the thought makes my heart pound.

His mouth finds my core, his tongue hot and wet against my clit. I gasp, my hands tangling in his hair as he laps at me, his touch both gentle and hungry.

“Sam,” I moan, my hips bucking against his mouth. “Fuck, that feels so good.”

He hums against me, the vibration sending shivers through my body. His fingers slip inside me, stretching me open as his tongue flicks and teases. I’m a mess, my breath coming in short, desperate gasps as pleasure coils low in my belly.

“Sam, I’m close,” I pant, my voice shaky.

He looks up, his eyes dark with desire. “Come for me,” he murmurs, his mouth returning to my core.

I cry out, my body arching off the bed as my orgasm crashes over me. It’s intense, overwhelming, and Sam drinks me in, his tongue never stopping. I’m shaking by the time he finally pulls back, his lips swollen and shiny.

“Fuck,” I breathe, my chest heaving. “That was-”

“Not done yet,” he interrupts, grinning as he sheds the rest of his clothes.

He climbs onto the bed, his body hovering over mine, his cock pressing against my thigh. I reach for him, guiding him to my entrance.

“Ready?” he asks, his voice hoarse.

I nod, my heart pounding with anticipation.

He enters me slowly, his eyes locked on mine as he fills me. It’s tight, his thickness stretching me, but it feels so right. I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper.

“You feel incredible,” he groans, starting to move.

His thrusts are slow at first, deliberate, like he’s savoring every moment. I meet him with each stroke, my nails digging into his back as pleasure builds again.

“Sam,” I whisper, my voice desperate. “Faster.”

He obliges, his hips snapping against mine as he pounds into me. The bed creaks beneath us, the rhythm frantic and raw. I’m a mess, my moans echoing in the small space as he reams me, his cock filling me completely.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he pants, his voice strained. “So good.”

I’m close again, my body coiling tighter with every thrust. “Sam, I’m-”

“Come for me,” he growls, his hand finding my clit.

I moan his name as my orgasm hits, my walls clenching around him. He follows, his thrusts stuttering as he spills inside me, his groans muffled against my neck.

We collapse in a tangle of limbs, our breaths ragged and hearts racing. Sam pulls me close, his lips pressing to my forehead.

“You okay?” he murmurs, his voice soft and concerned.

I nod, my fingers tracing the muscles of his back. “More than okay.”

He smiles, his eyes warm and tender. “Good. Because I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

I laugh, a soft, breathless sound. “Me too, I think.”

We lie there in silence, the only sound the hum of the bus and the steady beat of our hearts. Sam’s arm is wrapped around me, his touch protective and sweet. It’s comfortable, being here with him, like we’ve always been meant to be this close.