love came out of the rain - samuel girard/erik johnson for playoff heats
“You are mine,” Sam tells him, easy as anything, and Erik turns away.
No, I’m not, he tells himself. No matter how much I want to be.
Sam falls asleep soon after that, curled up into Erik’s side. He’d wanted to get them in the shower, clean them up, but it’s worth it to be able to watch Sam sleep peacefully. His heat will hit fully in the next few hours, and he knows from experience that sleep will be few and far between.
Sam’s beautiful, his long lashes resting against his cheeks, his hair a tousled mess. He looks even younger in his sleep, and Erik feels their ten-year difference acutely. Still, he doesn’t stop himself from reaching out, running the back of his fingers across Sam’s cheek and into his hair. Sam turns into his touch unconsciously, scenting his hand, like he’s reaching out for Erik even in his sleep. He’s so beautiful and Erik’s chest hurts with just how much he feels for the omega. He drops a kiss on Sam’s forehead and pulls him further into him as he drifts off to sleep.
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