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devnmon · 12 hours ago

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our secret.

sam drake x female!reader

Summary: Sam meets his best friend's daughter at a barbecue hosted by his biker friends. What he does when they meet again a year later is something he'd sworn himself from doing. Until you convince him.

warnings: dad's best friend sam, age gap (reader is 24, sam is 45), sam is a bit pervy in this one, mentions of alcohol and drinking, doggy style, cumming inside, dirty talk, quickie, [we'll do this once and it'll be over but also it definitely wont be a one time thing] !

a/n: this fic is genuinely perfect and one of my favorite things i've ever written. hope you all enjoy muah !

wc: 3.3k

Sam had only joined this biker group to get out of his comfort zone and meet other guys his age.

When he showed up at the barbecue for a few beers and good food, never in a million years did he think he’d meet his best friend’s daughter and leave thinking about her.

It was clear from the moment he saw you… you weren't anything like the other people there. Clearly not a biker, you only threw on that leather jacket so you wouldn’t stick out and he knew it.

His eyes watched you get dragged from conversation to conversation, lack of any real interest in your body language. So when you finally met him, he was damned sure to make a good first impression.

It was easy to shut off that part of his brain and not flirt with you while your father was present. But when he got pulled away to help man the grill and it was just the two of you talking, he took the chance to get to know you. Sam had flirted innocently here and there, but couldn’t pull his mind away from how stunning you were.

God, you looked good. Your pants accentuated your waist perfectly, the shirt you were wearing giving him just the slightest glance at your cleavage when you moved a certain way. How you said his name, grazed your eyes over his features and suddenly he was so self aware of his body language.

Other than his attempt to come off as an alright guy, you were making it very hard to stay attuned to anything else.

He tried not to think about the way your voice sounded when you laughed or what he imagined how high your voice went when you moaned. How he’d have liked to bend you over and pull your hair. Rip your panties off and put them in his pocket for later.

He had to take his jacket off because the thought was making him sweat.

The two of you continued in conversation for the rest of the night, too focused on your prettiness to even remember what you talked about. Something about wanting to take you for a ride on his bike and you admitting you never had because you’re terrified. Then Sam promising to drive safely and telling you to just hold on to him super tight and you’d be fine.

Up until the last minute when your father was already saying goodbye, you had chatted with him. He hoped you couldn’t feel every time his eyes dragged down your body, imagining what your skin felt like when you were under him. Sam found himself biting his lip to hold back what word vomit he thought would slip from his lips if he wasn’t keeping quiet when you talked.

There’s a spare bedroom upstairs with a lock on the door I wanna fuck you in. Nobody would notice we were gone. Except maybe the smell of sex on our clothes. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?

His reality was then checked when your father walked back over to tell you it was time to head out. Those thoughts and images were then shoved deep down inside his mind in hopes they wouldn’t make themselves known again.

When you gave him your number, he didn’t know how to respond. A part of him thought it was cute; sweet that you wanted to stay in touch with him. The other part, the one filled with filthy thoughts, knew it was a bad idea. He’d end up saying something wrong or coming off like an asshole, or god forbid, drunk text you by accident and have you never speak to him again. He had more than 20 years of age on you, what would that make him if he fucked his best friend’s– his only friend’s daughter?

But alas, he reached out anyway.

It was fine at first, just friendly conversation between two adults.

[Hey, it’s Sam. Texting you so you have my number.]

[Hi Sam, it was so nice to meet you finally. My dad’s told me a lot about you.]

Your father.

A reminder to himself that this was wrong. Feeling this way towards you was a mistake, even if you were an adult.

It’s not like he’s always been with women his age, it’s just– you and who your father happened to be and he didn’t want to risk losing that friendship for anything. Sam would’ve been ruined, he wouldn’t have been able to face your father again. Nothing would be the same if you ended up in his bed.

Sam never called you, only responded hours or even days late to your texts when he remembered. Half the time he didn’t want to, but felt bad that you were even messaging him at all with the hope of having a conversation. It got to a point where work became too hectic and months passed before he even thought about replying.

You stopped reaching out. Dry responses were nothing if not a huge turn off, but Sam understood you could’ve been busy with life and work. Or that you got fed up with him and decided to stop putting in unreciprocated effort.

A year passed, the annual barbecue coming up in the calendar.

Sam didn’t think he would see you again.

But there you were, different leather jacket on your shoulders, still trying to not stick out like a sore thumb. You were still alluring as ever, the way you walked and made conversation, probably enchanting everyone you talked to. He didn’t even get a wave hello before you passed him by and grabbed yourself a drink.

Sam stayed in small grouped conversations to avoid looking like a loner. Every now and again, he’d glance over to where you stood, talking to some of the wives of the bikers. You’d picked up smoking, he could tell from the cigarette between your fingers. His eyebrows furrowed as you went for another drink right after your current one was empty. At least the next time he glanced over, you had a plate full of food in your hands.

What was he doing? Checking in on a woman he hadn’t talked to in a year?

Priorities, Sam.

You had been drinking from the moment you arrived, along with dancing to the rock music blasting on the stereo. After a while, you hadn’t come back out, and even though he knew he’d probably regret it, he went inside to look for you.

Mostly empty when he walked in, he checked almost every room in the house for you, but you were nowhere to be found. That is, until he remembered the bedroom he’d thought of the last time you both had talked. Sam was able to slip upstairs quietly, and once he was down the hall far enough, he picked up your familiar voice giggling from the inside.

When he opens the door he finds you dancing around with another bottle in your hands, only it was something harder than beer.

“Hey there, kid.”

As you turned around to face him, he saw the flush in your cheeks and glazed over eyes.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Okay… what’re you doin’ up here?”

Sam closes the door softly behind him.

“Drinking, what’s it look like?”

An obvious and dumb question.

You’re swaying around the room as if you’ve had too much already. He knows the telltale signs of when someone’s about to go from being a little tipsy to overly drunk.

“Yeah, I can see that. You barely had half a beer the last time I saw you. Now you’re on a mission to finish off the whole liquor cabinet?”

“I drink, Sam.” You replied, slurring your words and scoffing, “It’s like you didn’t even try to get to know me after last year.”

“You know what, just don’t overdo it. Hangovers aren’t fun.”

“You can’t tell me what to do. You’re not my boyfriend.” You rolled your eyes, taking another sip from the bottle.

You’re right, he wasn’t. But he was damn sure you wouldn’t end the night heaving into a toilet. He walked over to you, grabbing the liquor bottle from your hands.

“Hey! Give that back. It’s not yours.” The tone of your voice gave off a slight whine, catching him off guard enough to forget the whole reason he came up here for a moment.

“It is now, you’re cut off,” he replied, lifting the bottle to see it was already more than halfway empty. “Jesus, how many did you have tonight?”

“Relax. The bottle was halfway gone when I grabbed it. I only had a few sips.”

“Like I said, you’re done. Lucky if I don’t tell your dad about this.”

“Tell him what? That his daughter, who is over the age of 21, by the way, has had too much to drink? Good luck with that, Sammy.”

“It’s Sam.”

“Whatever.”

He was officially done with your bullshit.

“Okay. Let’s get you home. I’ll text your dad later when you’re sober to let him know I dropped you off.”

“No.”

Your arms crossed over your chest, pushing your tits out from the v-line of your shirt.

“No?”

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

Snarkiness in your tone, he had to take a deep breath and focus himself again.

Sam rolled his eyes, grabbing your arm, “Let’s go. You can ride on the back of my bike.”

“I hate motorcycles.”

“Yeah, well you don’t live close enough to walk.” He then spoke sternly, “Let me take you home.”

“I said no. Just leave me be like last year.” You were quick to wriggle out of his grip.

“What? What are you talkin’ about?” He asked, placing the bottle down. But Sam knew.

“Did you forget how you flirted with me and then didn’t contact me again after promising to? Or did that just happen to slip your mind?”

A shot to his chest in the form of guilt made his palms sweat. Of course you hadn’t forgotten about how he treated you. Every thought he had pushed away about sending you a message back in the last year came barreling towards the front of his mind. It weighed down his shoulders and pushed all the air out of his lungs.

“I’m not–”

“Not what? Not interested in me like that? Yeah, I got the fucking idea.”

“No, that’s not–”

His mouth suddenly ran dry.

“You know, I thought I was crazy for seeing something when you looked at me. Didn’t have to be romantic, but I definitely felt your eyes on me then, and today.”

“I can’t– you’re so much younger…”

“Is that why? Really? You thought I was too young for you?”

He can’t defend himself. Sam had completely acted like a dick not messaging you back. Fully aware that you had the right to hate him.

“I’m grown enough to make my own decisions. Like what car to drive… and who I want to be pressed up against in bed.” You took a step closer.

Did you even really hate him?

“Your dad–”

“Doesn’t need to know.”

It’s clear by the way he became hot all of the sudden how much your words had an effect on him. Never did he think this was where the conversation would go. Every single night spent pining after you– after your body on top and under him, trying his best to wash away the vulgar thoughts were all for nothing.

“I’m way older than you, sweetheart.”

Yet still he persists.

“So? Who says I don’t like my men older?”

He chuckled. Is this real life?

“What? Are you not into younger women?”

“No, it’s not that. This,” he gestures to the both of you, “would do wonders on my conscience.”

“Oh? And why’s that?”

“It’s not right to want the things I want from you.”

His words come out breathily. But it’s the first truth he’s admitted in a long time.

“Well, you still want them, right? When’s the last time you fucked someone as young and pretty as me?”

Sam’s cheeks run hot.

“All I’m saying is there’s no reason you or I could think up that would invalidate us not getting what we really want from each other.”

“And what is that?”

“The kind of pleasure you can’t get anywhere else.” Those lust blown, half-lidded eyes of yours didn’t help the situation.

“You’re making this really hard for me…”

Sam’s resolve was breaking.

“Hm?”

Now you were just playing coy.

As if you hadn’t noticed the outline in his jeans when you mentioned being grown enough for him. Of course he had thought about it more times than you knew. Of course he came with guilt and hoarse moans imagining your mouth around him. It was in his nature.

“You’re not really drunk, are you?”

He was such an idiot. This whole thing was just a ploy to get him alone with you tonight.

“Nope… just a little tipsy, and horny, since I’ve been thinking about you taking me in this… very… room.” That lower octave your voice changed to made his hands so eager.

“This is our secret.”

Nodding up to him with doe eyes broke the last of his restraint.

In a second, his hands were on your waist to pull you against him with every ounce of strength. You couldn’t get away even if you wanted to, playing a dangerous game. Messy and heated kisses transferred the taste of nicotine to your tongue.

His hands traveled up your waist, etching every inch of you into his brain. Your hands moved over his shoulders, causing his jacket to drop onto the floor. Biceps revealed, your palms caressed his arms and veins so desperately, traveling up his back to feel every muscle.

Sam’s got chills from how soft your hands were. An overdose of dopamine sending a jolt up his spine. He was more desperate than all those one night stands where he imagined it was you.

He couldn't believe how touch starved he felt with your hands of fire on his body, touching everywhere like an artist's brush danced across a canvas.

His hand ran down to the hem of your shirt, sneaking under with his fingertips to grip one of your tits. Skin so soft, he’s not sure how he’s lasted a year trying to make his hand feel as soft as you were. You moaned against his mouth, biting at his lip when he played with your nipple.

“I need you…” you whimpered, the vibration traveling through him with every passionate kiss. When your hand rubbed over the outline in his jeans, Sam knew he’d have to make this quick. It was less than ideal, but it would prevent the two of you from being caught.

“Bend over.”

“Yes, sir.”

Sir? Fuck, that made his cock throb.

To nominate him with such a title as someone deserving of respect, not even mentioning the tone you used. You knew exactly what you were doing.

As he’s commanded, you bend over the mattress and press your hips back an inch or so, reaching out for his touch without a word. Sam’s hands pull down your pants far enough to reveal your perfect ass and underwear. The piece of cloth that separates him from what he knew was a wet, warm bliss was pulled to the side. He couldn’t be bothered.

Undoing his jeans to free his cock, the clinking noise of his belt made you gasp in anticipation. Your hips push towards him again, spotting the slick that leaked from between your folds.

“Thought I was gonna have to get you ready. Bet you’re always this wet when you think about me, huh?”

Sam’s shame was gone the moment he decided to indulge you, there was no point in holding back the vulgar things he’s thought up.

“Mhm…” you practically whined.

Cock freed from his boxers, he stroked himself once and touched his tip to your folds. Immediately your slick painted him with your arousal, not even having to press in to be greeted with your warmth.

“Sam, please… please fuck me…”

“Tell me how many times you’ve touched yourself to me… I just… I need to know.” He panted, barely holding himself up with how badly he wanted to fill you.

He felt you clench around nothing after his statement lingered in the air.

“I– I lost count. First time after I met you, I felt so guilty, but you were so, so handsome… that I did everything I could to imagine how you looked… how big you were…”

With a growl, Sam pushed into you with no resistance, filling you almost immediately.

“Oh, fuck…” you whimpered in a high pitched voice, sounding out into the room.

“Goddamn, you feel so good, sweetheart.” Sam groaned, closing his eyes in bliss.

His hips thrusted into yours, taking a minute to find a steady pace before slamming himself into you with ruthless abandon. Your high pitched moans were music to his ears.

Before he lost himself in you, he pressed your head down into the duvet to muffle your noises. God forbid someone hear, even if everyone was outside. Especially if it was the wrong person. Instead of making you cum, he’d be walking to his bile with blue balls and a bruised ego. Or worse, a black eye.

Although the only sound in the room was the wet plap of your hips against one another, Sam listened intentionally for your moans. When he reached down to toy with your aching clit, your head lifted again.

“Oh– my god…”

“Like that, baby?”

“Mhm… yeah, oh f-fuck…” Your sounds a desperate plea for him to continue, “Sam…”

His name coming from your lips, especially in that pretty voice of yours, made his cock twitch inside you.

“Not gonna… last long if you keep that up, gorgeous.”

But you knew how to press his buttons just right.

“Sam, Sam… Sam, make me cum, pleaseplease… Cum inside me, cum with me…”

Every word made his hips stutter, jolting him close to the edge quicker than he’s ever gotten before. Sam felt like a virgin who was having sex for the first time with the intense effect your words had on him.

He bent down over you, groaning in your ear until he came close.

“Gonna walk on outta here with my cum in you, huh? Feel it drip down your leg and pool in your panties? God, that’s so fucking hot. Wanna fill you right up, darlin’.”

“Sam, fuck, I’m gonna–” you gasped before clenching irregularly around him, release washing through you.

The tip of him kissed your sweet spot over and over, quickening until the warmth of his seed filled you.

You both breathed heavily for a few moments, riding out the last of your high before he pulled out. Sam’s back hit the bed next to you, watching you pull your pants up and move over to straddle him.

Your lips hit his as you leaned down, drinking in his afterglow and the smell of his cologne.

“How the hell are you so good at that?”

“Perks of being an older guy with experience under his belt, honey.”

You hummed, content with the current situation and placed his hands on your ass.

“Don’t get me all riled up again, I can’t walk outta here half hard. I barely made it out last time.”

“So you did think of me too then…”

Was that pink in your cheeks because of the orgasm or because you were blushing?

Sam bit his lip. Did he just say that? His head was all fuzzy from the previous moment.

“Yeah. Next week, my place? Then you can be as loud as you want.”

“You’re on, cowboy.”

At least you hadn’t ended up in his bed. Yet.

tags <3 @partyplatter @durrtydawg @aegis-7

#devnmon writes #ryes ff #sam drake x reader #samuel drake x reader #sam drake smut #sam drake fanfiction #uncharted fanfiction #uncharted smut #dividers by strangergraphics #pictures and gif from pinterest #not mine nor do i claim credit!

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