Love Locked In (element from TMF) M/F

[april]

The club was alive with heat and motion, the air thick with music and laughter. Bodies pressed together beneath strings of colored lights, drinks in hand, sweat shining on flushed skin. You and Sam had been mingling and dancing for hours, tangled in the rhythm, teasing eachother with playful tickles and stolen touches.

By the time you collapsed into a booth with friends, your cheeks were flushed and your hair was mussed from movement and heat. You leaned against Sam's shoulder, still breathless with laughter.

That was when your mutual friend leaned across the table with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Alright," she said, grinning. "are you two in love?"

The question hit like a spark to tinder.

"Oh, no," You blurted out, far too quickly. "We've only been seeing one another for two months."

Your tone was defensive, too sharp, and you knew it the moment the words left your mouth. A slow, knowing smile curled around your friends lips. When you glanced at Sam, he was wearing the exact same expression, his eyes gleaming in the dim light.

You swallowed harder, cheeks warm, even more than before.

The ride back to his apartment was quiet at first, the only sound the hum of the engine and the soft thrum of music through the speakers.

Then Sam's voice cut through the silence, smooth and teasing.

"Do you love me?"

The question sent a jolt through your chest. You giggled nervously, shifting in your seat.

"No." You replied, the word wrapped in a suspicious, airy laugh.

From the corner of your eye, you saw his smirk deepen.

"Do you?" He pressed, his tone warm but laced with challenge. "Because I'll get it out of you tonight, one way or another."

Your breath caught. You didn't know if it was the lingering haze of alcohol or the way his voice dipped low, but something reckless rose inside you. Tentatively you asked, "Would it scare you if I did?"

His answer was immediate, steady. "No. Not at all."

The certainty in his voice made your pulse skip.

"Okay then..." You took a shakey breath, your voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe I do."

Sam's hand flexed on the steering wheel. His head turned just enough for you to catch the glint in his eyes.

"I want to hear you say it."

You gasped, pressing both hands over your face to hide the violet blush spreading across your cheeks.

"I love you." You mumbled into your palms, muffled and shy.

"I love you too." His voice was confident, no hesitation, as if he'd been waiting for this moment all along.

Shock and joy crashed over you at once. Your hands stayed firmly over your face, your body trembling with a strange mix of giddy terror and pure happiness.

"Tell me again," he coaxed softly, almost sweetly.

You shook your head, unable to even peek at him, giggles spilling out in nervous waves.

"Thats alright," he said after a pause, his tone shifting, darker now, promising. "You're going to say it again tonight. As many times as I want to hear it."

His free hand suddenly darted across the console and jabbed at your ribs in a quick, teasing tickle. You squeaked, swatting at him while he chuckled low in his throat, then refocused on driving, his smirk firmly in place.

The moment you stepped inside his apartment, the air shifted. It was quieter here, more intimate, the warmth of the evening settling into something deeper. Sam's hand stayed at the small of your back as he led you to his bedroom without a word.

Before you could say anything, he turned, his presence overwhelming as he gently pushed you backwards onto the bed. The mattress gave beneath you, soft and cool, and then he was climbing on beside you, his body curved around yours.

He spooned you tightly against his chest, one arm locked around your waist in an unyielding hold. His breath was warm against your ear, his voice a silken whisper that made you shiver.

"Tell me again."

You giggled, the sound breathless and defiant, shaking your head.

"Last chance," he warned, his tone still soft but threatening. "Tell me."

Your lips pressed together stubbornly, silent.

The change was instantaneous. His fingers dug mercilessly into your ribs with no warning, no gentle buildup, just ruthless, relentless, tickling.

You shrieked, thrashing wildly as laughter tore out of you in helpless waves. Your legs kicked uselessly against the sheets, but his grip on you only tightened, anchoring you in place.

"Stop! Stop, please!" You begged between gasps of laughter, tears already springing to your eyes.

"If you dont say it," His voice rumbled low against your ear. "I'm not going to stop. This will be your whole world."

"I love you!" You screamed, the words forced out through giggles and panic.

But he didn't stop.

His hand slid upward with unhesittaing precision, diving into your underarm. His fingers curled in deep, wriggling with cruel accuracy.

"Are you sure?" He asked with mock innocence, even as you shrieked and thrashed harder.

"Yes! Yes!" You screamed, panic lacing your laughter as you writhed beneath his hold.

Still, the torment didn't stop. His hand darted down to your thigh, giving a merciless squeeze. At the same time, the hand at your waist began digging into your side, sending lightning bolts of sensation up your spine.

You were incoherent now, gasping and giggling, trapped against his solid frame.

"I want to hear it again," he coaxed, dark and commanding. "Be a good girl and tell me."

You broke completely.

"I love you! I love you!"

The tickling stopped instantly, leaving you limp and panting against him. Sam wrapped both arms tightly around you, pulling you even closer. His lips brushed your neck in a tender kiss.

"Good girl," he murmured against your skin. "Because I love you too."

The next morning, the apartment was dim, curtains drawn so that only a faint, warm glow slipped through the edges. The livingroom floor was a soft sprawl of comforters and pillows, the two of you nestled in your own private world.

You were still waking up, still stretching out the stiffness in your limbs when Sam's familiar grin flashed. Mischief. Trouble. The look he always wore right before he struck.

"Sam..." you warned through a nervous giggle.

Too late.

He lunged, tackling you into the sea of blankets with a burst of energy and laughter. You shrieked, twisting beneath him as his fingers skimmed over sensitive ribs in playful bursts. The thick bedding softened every impact, wrapping you both in warmth even as you fought to escape.

His hands slid lower, toward your feet, and you kicked frantically, barely managing to yank them out of reach.

Again and again, you pulled away at the last second, your breathless giggles turning triumphant.

The more you escaped, the more determined he became. His grin darkened into something fierce and focused.

"Oh, you think your quick?" His tone was teasing, low, and laced with promise. "...let's see you get out of this."

Before you could retreat, he moved with startling speed.

One moment you were wriggling free, the next, flat on your back, squeaking as Sam caught both of your legs and folded your knees tight against your chest.

Then came his full weight.

He leaned forward, pressing his chest firmly against your bent knees, locking them in place. The position was perfect, unshakable. No amount of kicking or twisting could dislodge him.
And now the tops of your feet were trapped against his firm abs, completely vulnerable, soles exposed.

You froze, breath caught between panic and anticipation. "Sam, wait...don't you dare."

He smirked down at you, utterly in control.

"I don't?" He murmured. "Are you sure about that?" His voice was warm and smug. "You're mine now."

With your legs pinned so tightly, both of his hands were free to do whatever he pleased.

He started slow, his fingertips barely grazing along the delicate curves of your arches. The light touch was unbearable. You squealed instantly.

"Saaaaaam! Nooo!" You begged, but the words dissolved into helpless giggles.

The grin on his face deepened. His hands shifted, fingers curling under to scrabble mercilessly across your soles.

Ten fingers wriggled and scratched without abandon, covering every sensitive inch. The sudden intensity stole your breath. Laughter turned frantic, wild and ragged, filling the dimly lit room.

"Ahhh! Stop! Stopstopstop!" You screamed, twisting uselessly against his chest.

But he didn't even flinch. His weight held you perfectly still as his fingers danced.

Minutes ticked by when at last, he stopped. The silence was almost shocking after the storm of sound. Your chest heaved, gulping down air, hair clinging to your forehead.

But Sam's reprieve didn't last.

With a sly smile, he leaned back, grabbing both legs and pulling them flat against the comforter. Before you could react, he slid his body over yours, pressing you firmly into the nest of blankets. The weight of him was solid, grounding, inescapable.

You barely had time to gasp before he lifted the hem of your shirt and plunged in headfirst.

The first touch of his face against your bare skin was electric.

Sam's stubble rasped across your stomach, a thousand sharp ticklish sparks exploding across your nerves. You shrieked instantly, back arching off the floor.

"Sam! No, no, no!" You howled, clawing at the blankets, struggling uselessly beneath him.

But he was unyielding, his head burrowing under your shirt, moving lower, higher, everywhere; nuzzling your chest, the underside of your breasts, your sensitive tummy.

You tried to fight him. Your hands fumbled desperately at the hem of your shirt, trying to lift it higher and give him an exit, but he wouldn't budge. His shoulders were locked in place, his weight pressing you down while his head moved freely underneath, a relentless torment you couldn't control.

"Sam, get out of there! Get out!" You gasped, your voice breaking on helpless laughter.

He ignored you completely, shaking his head back and forth in sharp, rapid motions like a vigorous no.

"Saaaaam! Please! It tickles!"

Then he switched, nodding his head up and down as though saying yes, dragging the rough texture across new, unbearably sensitive spots.

You were crying with laughter now, thrashing, utterly undone.

He paused suddenly, the stillness unnerving. You lay there panting, waiting for the next attack. Then you heard his voice, muffled beneath the fabric of the shirt.

"Ask me yes or no questions." He commanded, his tone full of mischief.

"No." You refused flatly, shaking your head furiously.

He chuckled darkly against your skin, the vibrations sending shivers through you.

"Do it," he warned. "Or I'll also use my hands. Every spot I can reach."

Your stomach dropped. The idea of his fingers joining the assault was unthinkable. You groaned, defeated, and gave in.

"Fine! Fine, I'll do it!" You giggled breathlessly.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to think through the haze of laughter. "Okay...um...is your favorite color blue?"

Sam responded by shaking his head no, his stubble sliding across your belly in merciless zig-zags. You howled beneath him, bucking madly.

"Ahahahaha, okay, okay! Is it green?!"

This time he nodded yes, moving in slow, deliberate strokes. The nodding was somehow worse. The rhythmic up and down motion traced sensitive lines across your skin, making you jolt and writhe.

You giggled desperately, scrambling for another question. "Are you ticklish too?"

Vigorous shaking. No.
The stubble scraped side to side, brutal and chaotic.

"AHAHAHAHA! LIAR!" You screamed, barely able to get the words out between fits of laughter.

"Do you...ohmygod's...do you like teasing me this much?"

Slow, measured nodding. Yes.
The steady motion was maddening, a deliberate punishment that made you shriek until your voice cracked.

You were half laughing, half pleading now. "Do you love me?"

A firm, unhesitating nod.
Up and down, up and down, dragging ticklish fire across your chest.

You couldn't tell if you were laughing harder from the sensation or from the weight of the answer.

Sam stopped again and the sudden stillness was almost as torturous as his movement.
You lay there trembling, waiting, barely breathing. Then his muffled voice emerged from beneath your shirt, full of amusement.

"New game," he announced. "Twenty questions."

Your mouth fell open.
"Sam, no. No no no no no."

"Yes," he purred, dragging his stubbled jaw lightly across your ribs in a slow, taunting arc. "Twenty. Questions."

You wailed, laughter spilling out before the game had even begun, knowing he would take his time, answering every question with either the agonizing yes or the torturous no.

And there was no way out. Not until he decided the game was over.