Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sam just couldn’t stop gawking at it.

Streaks of polychromatic light, manifestations of Ventura Boulevard’s bustling night-life, peeked through her passenger window and illuminated the dark interior of the Uber. Each time the pillars of neon light graced the jewelry resting in her open palm, the golden metal would shimmer and Sam’s attention would again be captured by a subtle twinkle of sapphire.

It was absolutely beautiful. The slender, golden chain that felt like a feather against her skin. The meticulous carving, with stunning sapphire stones adorning it. But more beautiful than any of that, even the jewels, is that the carving that served as the centerpiece of the necklace bore the shape of an octopus. Her favorite sea animal.

Their relationship mascot.

There was no other explanation in Sam’s head that made sense: This had to be his, this had to be Miguel’s. Sure, Eli and Chris liked their bling but there were only two people she knew who’d find something like this sentimental, and she was one of them. The instant she saw it there, lying discarded in Miyagi-Do’s yard, she knew.

The “Why?” had taken Sam a little longer to discern, but even that couldn’t remain a mystery for long. He’d bought the necklace for her, maybe as an “I’m sorry I ran off to Mexico” apology gift, and intended to give it to her that evening. That evening, where her heart felt like a thrown anchor pulling her into the dirt, when she broke up with him. Because of her issues, her problems. He would’ve thrown it away then and there.

Did he throw it away because he thought he’d lost his chance, or because he couldn’t bear to look at it? That was still up in the air. The potential answer concerned her, but she wasn’t afraid.

She’ll learn the truth, and tonight was the perfect chance to do it.

Sam finally withdrew her attention from the necklace, clasping it in her hand, and peered out her passenger window. They’d turned off of Ventura Boulevard and were now cruising down a familiar side street, drenched in shadow and lined with old cars and litter. They were now just around the corner from the Reseda apartment block that Miguel, Robby and Sensei Lawrence called home. From the celebration party Eli and Moon had insisted on taking point in organizing.

In a matter of moments, the Uber twisted into an asphalt driveway and Sam’s lips curled into a half-smile as the rush of music, barely muffled by the glass inches from her face, came into clarity and the silver Uber ground to a stop.

The party was already in full swing. A symphony of laughter and conversation echoed from dozens of teens littering the apartment’s usually-lifeless courtyard, awash in the complex’s dull-amber lighting. Tables were laid out with snacks and soda, with a keg of beer sitting not-so-inconspicuously beneath one of them, all while music hummed from portable speakers.

“Thank you.” Sam called graciously as she stepped out of the car, pink Converses tapping on cracked asphalt, and shut the door behind her.

Sam looked down at it one more time, the golden octopus necklace clutched in her hand, and saw the subtle twinkle of the sapphire eyes once again, eyes that reminded her very much of her own. If her assertion was right, if this really was Miguel’s, maybe they reminded him of her eyes too. Sounded like the mixture of cheeseball-romantic and sentimental she knew Miguel to be.

She’d broken up with him not because of prom or Mexico, but because she’d felt herself steadily being ripped apart by the weight of her choices. Her failure at the All-Valley, her commitment to her family, her commitment to karate, everything she shared with Miguel. Even her history with Robby. Pulling her in different directions, all threatening to swallow her whole. She needed to figure things out, figure out her place in things. What she wanted to do, what she wanted to be. Finally, after weeks of agonizing and self-reflection, she finally felt put back together again. She felt like herself again.

Tonight, as they celebrated their victory over Cobra Kai and their entry into the highly coveted and totally badass Sekai Taikai, Sam was going to prove it to Miguel. Whether or not this necklace was his, whether her assertion was true, it didn’t matter: She was his. It was why, staring into her wardrobe, Sam had come to the conclusion that tonight required a special touch.

Instead of the baby-blue tank-top and jeans she’d intended to wear, Sam was wearing a $400 ruffled wrap dress the color of a desert rose. On the surface, it looked humble and austere but the beauty lay in the quality of the material and the way it let her skin breathe without compromising the beauty.

Instead of keeping her French braids, Sam had meticulously styled her hair into an elegant brunette mane. Wild and loose in the back but patterned with intricate curls and frizziness at the front, perfect for drawing attention.

And instead of her usual perfume, Sam broke out a bottle that Yasmine had very sweetly gifted to her just before prom: Black Opium by Yves Saint Laurent. Scented with vanilla, dark coffee and hints of white jasmine, it made Sam feel exactly how the ads said she would: “Enticingly feminine and sexy.”

“All I know is we got potential! Light the flame, now we’re on our waaaaaaay!”

“Spark it up like it’s our last daaaaaaay!”

Sam’s cerulean eyes snapped forward, her lips forming into a crescent, as she observed the party. She spotted Bert and Nate playing beer pong, Chris dancing his adorable heart out amid a couple of girls. Laughter and life and conversation. Things Cobra Kai could never take away.

“Now we can let the people talk, talk. We can walk!”

“I’ll take you higher, higher! Yeah, we can set this place on fire! Yeah, on fire!”

Her heart glistening with confidence, determination swelling inside her, Sam slipped the necklace into her pink handbag and waltzed into the fray with a smile.

Searching for what she desired.

“Higher and higher! Can’t see the stars, we’re burning brighter! Yeah, on fire!”

Searching for him.

Miguel Diaz aimlessly tapped his foot to the music, bobbing his head with a blissful smirk painted on his face. Trying to hide how utterly baffled he was at how popular the party had gotten, so fast too.

To say tonight’s momentum and energy was “a reversal of the norm” would be a total understatement. There had to be at least 40 people here. Most of them were hanging outside but both his and Sensei’s apartments had been opened up for space, both units full of at least a baker’s dozen party goers.

Miguel and Eli had quickly established a ground rule that the back rooms that weren’t the bathrooms were completely off limits. Last thing he needed was for a drunk couple to try to “have some fun” in his Mom’s bedroom. Fortunately, people seemed to be abiding by the rule but only time would tell if that remained true, once things really got into motion and the alcohol really started flowing. For now, though, Miguel was content to sit back and not stress about it.

For now, it was his apartment’s kitchen counter that drew his attention.

Sat upon the counter-top, idly fidgeting with two lime shots in his hands, was Robby Keene dressed in a brown tee and distressed jeans. Cool as a cucumber, as Robby so naturally seemed to embody. Beside him, leaning up against the counter, was Eli Moskowitz dressed in jeans and a mint-green hoodie overlaying a yellow shirt. Earlier, Miguel had noticed that the green in Eli’s budding mohawk was oddly absent. What was up with that?

The two were calmly observing the party, Eli drawing particular amusement from watching Penis Br– Mitch badly attempt to flirt with some chicks from East Valley. Miguel noticed the uncomfortable looks on their faces, just as he noticed some of the East Valley girls eyeing him too.

Miguel went about scooping up empty red Solo cups and soda cans from the coffee table, seamlessly slipping between the occupied couches in the living room, and doing his best not to be distracted by the freaking awesome music Moon had provided. He made it to the kitchen countertop and busied himself with putting shit away, all while he heard conversation echo from his right.

“What, uh, happened to the green?” inquired Robby.

It was scary how in tune Miguel and Robby had become, or perhaps already were, once they stopped trying to tear each other apart. He heard a contemplative hum from Eli, which Miguel recognized for what it was: Nerves. Eli had his tells, just like everyone, and Miguel knew them well.

“Uhh, didn’t really work for me.” Eli trepidatiously replied. “So still, uh, figuring it out.”

Of course. Eli had lost his qualifier match to Kenny Payne, through some bullshit move Miguel had never seen before in his life. But whatever it was, it was fast, it was shockingly brutal and it just had “Terry Silver” written all over it. He’d seen the way Eli coiled over, clutching his chest in pain. When Sam stepped up to fight Devon, Miguel had faith in her abilities but he couldn’t deny the fear that creeped through him.

Speaking of which, Sam would probably be here soon, right? Then again, it was so hard to tell who had and hadn’t shown up, with just how many people were here.

“Dude, this is insane.” Miguel hushedly exclaimed to Eli, looking around at all the people. “How did everyone find out about this?”

“Moon invited a ton of people from East Valley.” Eli answered bluntly, punctuating it with a shrug. “Guess the word got out.”

Miguel scoffed in astonishment as he looked out at the party. That was putting it freaking lightly. Miguel’s chocolate-brown eyes swept across his home, keeping stock and track of everything as he surveyed the party. Mitch was still annoying the hell out of those two East Valley girls, a hyper-competitive game of beer pong was now in session at the coffee table, and Miguel spotted a slender girl with straightened blonde hair making eyes in their direction. More specifically: She seemed fixated on Robby.

Judging from the glint in her eye, and the coy smile wrapped on her face, she really liked what she saw. Robby however didn’t seem to notice, too preoccupied with his drinks. Miguel turned his head in Robby’s direction, a playful smirk on his face, intent on bringing Robby’s attention to his secret admirer.

Then she walked in.

Miguel’s eyes snapped open with awe, his mouth hung slightly agape, as Samantha LaRusso stepped through the front door, sauntering into the light like she was right out of a movie. Immediately, like he’d just been struck by lightning, his heart seized in his chest and his skin was bombarded by spikes of warmth. That dress, that hair, that smile. She looked…

“Whoa.” Miguel whispered, immediately drawing Eli’s attention who looked back at him with a curious stare, that swiftly evaporated beneath imminent amusement.

“Let me guess, Sam just walked in.” Eli snarked.

Miguel darted his shocked eyes to Eli and felt the humiliation reverberate through him as Eli turned to look in the direction of the front door and immediately let out a victorious chortle. He instantly looked back at Miguel with a triumphant expression, but Miguel very quickly slapped him on the shoulder to shut him up as Sam approached.

“Hey, Sam.” Robby was the first to greet her, giving Sam a little wave from atop the counter. Sam’s smile split, displaying rows of pearly teeth, as she met Robby with a playful fist-bump.

“Hey, Robby.” Sam greeted sweetly, quickly turning her attention onto Eli.

Her gentle gaze shifted curiously, and she let out a contemplative hum that, for no good reason, made the hair on the back of Miguel’s neck stand up.

“Where’d the green go, Eli?” Sam queried, to which Eli immediately let out a sharp exhale.

“Everybody’s gonna be asking about that, huh?” Eli grumbled, scratching at the back of his head anxiously. Sam’s eyes twitched with curiosity, but she said nothing, simply giving Eli a supportive smile.

Her eyes, those beautiful ocean-blue eyes, drifted to make contact with Miguel’s. All Summer, Miguel tried to keep his civility in check. Sam and him were broken up, they’d agreed to just be friends, and Miguel had no intention of shattering that. No matter how badly he wanted to, he couldn’t devalue Sam like that or jeopardize their history together. But every time she looked at him like this, his defenses threatened to crumble stone by stone.

Did she even realize how beautiful she looked tonight? The effect she had on him? If she did, Sam showed no sign of letting on.

“Hey.” Sam whispered, her voice soft and breathy in a way that slithered through his ears and sent warmth shooting down his spine.

“H-Hey, Sam.” Miguel managed to stammer out, doing his best to wipe the awestruck look from his face. “I dig the outfit.”

Sam looked down at her outfit to examine it, and Miguel’s eyes couldn’t help but follow. They drifted down Sam’s dress, enamored by the prominence of the ruffled curls and how the dress left her toned arms and thighs exposed. Miguel’s cheeks blazed with warmth as his eyes drifted from fabric to skin, examining her physique in detail. Strong, yet slender arms he’d had curled around him so many times. Thighs he wouldn’t mind holding close, while..

No. Stop it. You’re broken up.

“Thank you.” Sam remarked, fixating her attention on Miguel. “I like yours too.”

He couldn’t say his outfit was quite so fancy, Miguel always preferred comfort over looks. He’d gone with dark jeans, a black shirt with Dios De Los Muertos iconography overlaid by a newly-bought navy-blue flannel shirt he’d gotten on recommendation from Robby. Still, the sincerity in Sam’s voice rippled through him and he nodded graciously, his lips curling upwards into an exhilarated smirk.

“Thanks.” Miguel humbly replied, seeking unwavering eye contact.

Her eyes. A ridiculously pretty, vibrant ocean that Miguel had happily drowned in time and time again. But there was something different about them tonight, something Sam was thinking or feeling that was buried behind her gaze. Something he couldn’t quite figure out. He knew from experience at this point that “Boyfriend Spider-Sense” was a thing that existed, but still.

They weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend. He had to remember that, and he couldn’t read too much into every little thing she did. There was a barrier, a wall between them, set up by her and Miguel needed to respect that. Abide by it. It hurt, just like it hurt yesterday and the day before that. But it was something that had to happen. Sam needed time, needed to figure things out, and he couldn’t sabotage that for her. He refused.

“Okay!” Eli abruptly exclaimed, jolting Miguel back to reality and shattering the silence that’d accidentally settled in. “So most of the drinks are outside, including the good stuff . We got a bunch of different pizza on the way, and more booze, so feel free to go nuts. We’ve got the place to ourselves until, like, 10 or something.”

Sam lightly chuckled and peered back at Eli with a mischievous grin on her face.

“Sounds awesome.” Sam replied confidently before clapping her hands together. “Uhh, but first… Bathroom?”

“Oh, down the hall. Final door on the right.” Miguel immediately answered, pointing a thumb over towards the vacant hallway. The one sanctuary from the dense gathering in his home.

“Thank you.” Sam answered, her voice light as a feather. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

“We’ll be here.” Miguel playfully replied, punctuated with a little chuckle.

Again, Sam’s eyes lit up with a feeling Miguel couldn’t discern or describe. All he knew is that he liked it, his body begging him to find some way to drag it out of her some more.

“I sure hope so.” Sam teased, her eyes fluttering.

Miguel’s heart skipped a beat and, without another word, Sam strolled off towards the back area of the apartment. As Sam walked past, her arm ever-so-gently brushed against Miguel’s shoulder and Miguel could feel the warmth of her skin penetrate the fabric and seep into his own. But what was even more impactful than that was the smell . Was she wearing a new perfume? Maybe a new shampoo?

Whatever it was, it was an addicting scent. Vanilla, some kind of fruit or flower, and.. Was that coffee? Regardless of what it was, Miguel’s attention was captured and he felt warmth emanate from deep inside him and cascade throughout his whole body. His eyes found themselves following her as she strolled past, watching her as she sauntered down the hall. His teeth grinded against his bottom lip and he could barely restrain the wistful sigh that threatened to escape him.

“Wow.” Miguel wistfully whispered to himself. As Sam disappeared from sight, Miguel finally had the courage to look away and turned back around, to be met by a curious Robby and Eli with “that look” on his face. Eli’s scheming face.

“Alright.” Eli commented, pushing himself off of the counter. “She’ll only be a minute or two, so we don’t have long to figure this out.”

Huh?

“Figure what out?” Miguel queried, perking an eyebrow only to be met with a derisive laugh from Eli.

Eli advanced on Miguel, closing the distance between them and practically huddling with him like they were two burly athletes about to play for the NFL, desperately formulating a plan. Eli’s eyes were wide with that familiar glee, his scheming expression unwavering, and Miguel was already unsure about this.

“How you’re gonna make a move on Sam.” Eli answered.

Immediately, Miguel rolled his eyes and looked away from Eli, exuding a heavy sigh.

“Dude, we’ve been over this.” Miguel grumbled, prompting a scoff from Eli. “Sam and I are just friends.”

“Come on, man. It’s a party! We’re all gonna be cutting loose tonight..” Eli insisted, not even bothering to restrain his voice. “A bunch of people are gonna be hooking up tonight, there’s no reason why you and Sam can’t be included.”

Except there was a reason. The whole reason they were broken up wasn’t something Miguel thought he could fix. It wasn’t something he thought he could change, that it was something only Sam could truly dictate. How was a party supposed to magically change that?

“Besides, even a blind guy could see you’re both jonesing for it.” Eli needled, prompting an exasperated exhalation from Miguel.

That wasn't... It wasn’t... Okay, yes , he was “jonesing for it”. How could he not, with a girl as talented and smart and kind-hearted as Samantha LaRusso? How could he look at her, in that amazing summer dress, and not want her? When he’d already known the taste of her lips, the feel of her slender and smooth hands threaded through his hair, the splash of her warm breath against his earlobe? He wanted her in every way you could want another person.

But it wasn’t that simple. Miguel knew that, and Eli should know that. Miguel had certainly explained it to him enough damn times. Besides, he didn’t think Sam was “jonesing for it”. Eli was probably reading too much into Sam’s demeanor, as usual.

“It’s not that simple, Eli, and you know it.” Miguel retorted. Again, Eli shook his head vehemently. Showing no signs of backing down.

“Eli’s right.”

Even Eli was stunned into silence at the intruding voice, his words clearly caught in his throat in an exact mirror of Miguel’s reaction, as both boys turned their attention on the slick-haired, lean boy who’d now hopped off of the counter-top. Robby Keene’s beady lime-green eyes were fixated on Miguel, his expression stoic but with a subtle warmth behind his demeanor.

“You clearly wanna get back with Sam, tonight’s a big night for all of us.” Robby encouraged. “So go for it.”

If it weren’t for the sincerity laced in Robby’s voice, Miguel might not have believed him. Not just because the conflict still raged inside of him, threatening to burst free at any time, but because Miguel couldn’t shake it from his mind: Robby’s own history with Sam. It would be around this time last year, wouldn’t it?

When, with Miguel consumed by Tory and a fissure between him and Sam, Sam and Robby had gotten together. Sam and Robby had only lasted a couple of weeks and were arguably an even less serious relationship than what Miguel had shared with Tory, but it crept into Miguel’s mind like a bad infection just like when he’d seen Sam and Robby all buddy-buddy back at Miyagi-Do.

He trusted Sam and, finally, he was trusting Robby too. But he couldn’t deny it still hurt to think about. It was something primal, something instinctual and inescapable, nestled in his mind even after he and Robby had finally put all the shit behind them. He was getting good at not thinking about it, the thought of Robby running his hands all over Sam, but it hurt a lot when he did.

“I’m surprised to hear you say that.” Miguel couldn’t help but remark.

Robby wasn’t stupid, a knowing glimmer in his eyes. Robby let out a little sigh, swiping his hands into his pockets, and stepped forward with a gentle and regretful expression.

“That was a whole year ago, man. That’s over, and you know it.” Robby reassured, the sincerity in his voice again capturing Miguel off-guard.

Miguel wanted to trust Robby, he did trust Robby. Before, he’d assume this was some kind of play. But things between him and Robby weren’t like that anymore, and Miguel had no intention of letting it ever get to that point again. “That point” had resulted in Miguel almost losing his life, and Robby nearly losing his chance at a normal life.

“You obviously care about Sam, no sane person would dispute that.” Robby continued, his voice cutting through the ambient atmosphere like a blade. “Shoot your shot, man. Have some fun, spend the night with her. See where things go.”

“Besides, do you really want to say that Penis Breath had the courage to shoot his shot, and you didn’t?” Eli goaded.

“Even if things don’t go that way, Sam deserves a fun night.” Robby concluded, punctuating it with one of his classically unfazed shrugs. “She’s part of the reason we’re here.”

Damn it. Miguel couldn’t argue against pretty much any of that. They were absolutely right: Sam did deserve to have a great night after helping them gain entry into the Sekai Taikai, and Miguel wanted nothing more than to be the one to provide that to her. It was also true that they didn’t necessarily have to jump right back to “Getting back together”, they could take the night slow and steady.

And it was also true that Miguel hated the idea of being relentlessly mocked for having less balls than Mitch .

“It’s so unfair when you guys team up.” Miguel muttered lightheartedly, conceding defeat with a sigh. Eli just chuckled and Robby began to sport that familiar, shark-toothed grin of his.

“It sure is.” Robby snarked, prompting Miguel to begrudgingly smirk. “But it should also tell you we’re on the right track, if we’re both saying it.”

“Right track for what?”

Miguel and Eli managed to keep their cool but Robby went rigid like he’d just been tased, as the trio of boys turned to face a newly-reemerged Sam. Her arms were crossed, a hand tapping on her other forearm, with a playful expression incredibly similar to Eli’s plastered on her face.

“Just talking about how Miguel’s on the right track to kick everyone’s asses at the Sekai Taikai.” Eli boasted pridefully. “Cobra Kai doesn’t stand a chance.”

Miguel had hope that they could beat Cobra Kai at the Sekai Taikai. But he’d seen the Youtube clips, watched the match with last year’s winner with Spanish subtitles as English wasn’t available. These guys were no joke. This tournament truly was for the best of the best, and it rang crystal-clear in Miguel’s mind that there were many in Eagle Fang and Miyagi-Do who didn’t stand a chance.

Cobra Kai was one thing. Winning the competition as a whole was another matter entirely.

“Silver may know how to play dirty, but we’re starting to know his tricks.” Robby added, his tone subsumed by hatred. “Hopefully we’ll be ready for him.”

Miguel forgot: Like Sam’s Dad, Robby had more reason than most to hate Terry Silver. It was Terry Silver who’d helped twist Robby down the all-too-familiar dark path of Cobra Kai. It was Silver who’d pulled Tory even deeper into Cobra Kai’s clutches, and it was Silver who was now taking Robby’s own apprentice under his wing and twisting him into an entitled little asshole who was totally willing to injure Eli.

“Fingers crossed.” Sam commented sincerely.

“Anyway, Eli and I were about to go do some stuff, weren’t we, Eli?” Robby exclaimed, shooting Eli a very knowing glance that took Eli way too long to pick up on.

“Yeah! Yeah, we were gonna play some beer pong… or something.” Eli remarked.

“Sounds fun.” Sam commented amusedly.

“In the meantime…” Miguel offered, taking a step towards Sam and immediately drawing her attention. He noticed, out of the corner of his eye, both Eli and Robby watching him like birds of prey. A silent “Don’t fuck this up” sentiment reverberating from them both.

Don’t fuck this up. Strike First.

“I was thinking of grabbing some snacks, maybe hitting the dance floor. You, uhh, you care to join me?” Miguel queried, pointing a thumb over towards the front door and the tsunami of partygoers outside.

Take You Higher had, by now, faded away and was replaced by the tenor of The Weeknd’s voice. Party Monster , from the sounds of it. But Miguel’s attention was largely focused on the girl in front of him, that beautiful and intricate brunette hair glistening in the warm light overhead. Her ocean-blue eyes fluttered for the second time tonight and Miguel felt the heat again.

“Now that you mention it, there were some empanadas I’d love to get my hands on..” Sam drawled, her lips curling upwards and her eyes alight with a plan. Awesome. They could- -

“But before any of that, I was wondering if we could talk?.” Sam abruptly swerved, the gentility in her voice slowly fading, as a contemplative look dawned her face.

“Sure.” Miguel answered, with a little shrug. “What’s going on?”

But Sam said nothing. Her eyes darted from side to side, her lips twisted in the smallest frown.

“Actually, I was, uhh, hoping it would just be you and me?” Sam offered, officially catching Miguel off guard. “Is there somewhere we can talk in private?”

He wasn’t sure if there was such a thing as “In private”, with a party this busy and packed with people. But if there was anywhere that would at least be a reprieve from the music, the ambient hum of uproarious laughter and conversation, it’d have to be one of the back rooms. Miguel didn’t want to give Sam the wrong idea, but he didn’t see much other option.

“Is it okay if we chat in my room? First door on the right. I’ll just be a sec, I promise.” Miguel queried, carefully examining Sam’s expression. Please don’t get the wrong idea.

“That works for me.” Sam piped up, her cheer slowly returning and that beautiful smile emerging from hibernation. “Thank you, Miguel.”

Sam slowly withdrew from their group and, after shooting one more enigmatic look in Miguel’s direction, swerved on her heel and disappeared down the hall. Again, Miguel couldn’t take his eyes off her. Not until she vanished into his bedroom, and he heard Eli let out a relieved breath.

“Well, that was easy.” quipped Eli, earning another slap on the shoulder from Miguel.

Miguel took a deep breath of his own, shook off the tension in his shoulders, and began to follow Sam.

“Good luck.” Miguel heard Robby call from behind him.

Knowing Sam? He was gonna need it.

Sam could barely hear the door click shut behind her, her heartbeat pounding too fervently in her ears. The roaring party ambience, and The Weeknd’s trap music, muffled and Sam found herself enveloped in an odd and familiar warmth. As if she’d just stepped through a portal into another world.

Miguel’s bedroom was much like Miguel himself: Comfortable, warm, but exuded a raw and cluttered nature that spoke less about Miguel’s disorganization and more about his authenticity. It was a dimly-lit huddled cube of a bedroom, with a rectangular window shrouded by white blinds hanging over a neatly-made single bed with white sheets and a thin red blanket to match. The beige walls, no doubt once drab and boring, were now adorned with various posters and promotional stickers. His wooden desk, cluttered and busy, was nestled to Sam’s left and she could spy his closed laptop and a copy of Enter The Dragon on Blu-Ray resting on top.

The room told her so much without saying a word, and it brought a smile to her face.

Wandering forward, every step trepidacious, Sam’s curiosity got the better of her as she looked over at Miguel’s bedside table, this tiny circular wooden table. Apart from the lamp projecting a gentle orange light across the room, Sam could see Miguel’s phone resting face-down on the bed, a copy of The Summer I Turned Pretty by Jenny Han and…

An opened bottle of Astroglide “Maximum performance” lubricant.

Sam immediately stepped away, her face flushed with warmth and her eyes like saucers, as she let out a tiny gasp. She shook her head, trying and failing to abate the mental images swirling around in her mind, only to be jolted back to reality by the sound of the door swinging open and the party ambience to come bursting through the opening.

Taking just a second to compose herself, Sam slowly turned around and watched as Miguel steadily pushed the door shut behind him, muffling the music once more, and twisted the doorknob’s lock. Sam’s hand couldn’t help but drift to her pink handbag, resting tentatively on it, as she began to question when was a good time. Did she just come right out and ask him about it? Did she wait?

Miguel finally turned to face her, lean and fierce with that new scruffy hair of his, and she couldn’t help but break into a shy smile. She was sure she was still blushing, but it was okay.

“Hey. Sorry for the wait.” Miguel graciously greeted, and Sam couldn’t help but giggle.

“All 30 seconds of it?” Sam teased, bobbing her head playfully and provoking a little smirk from Miguel, who nodded in concession.

“Totally. We can go with that.” Miguel quipped, scratching awkwardly at the back of his head.

For just a moment, the two said nothing. They just allowed silence to settle, punctured only by the muffled noises outside their little sanctuary. Miguel’s chocolate eyes gazed into hers, the thoughts behind them a mystery to her. But she saw the subtle twitch of his nose, the way his smirk very slightly widened. Little details that filled Sam’s heart with glee and made her feel wanted. Appreciated. Loved.

Sam finally took initiative and stepped back from Miguel, sitting herself down on the end of his bed and staring up at him in silent observance. His fingers ran, once more, through his wild mane of hair and Sam began to look forward to when those same fingers would curl and thread through her hair.

“Party’s pretty crazy out there, huh?” Sam queried nervously, finally breaking the silence.

“Yeah.” Miguel piped up, a notable shake to his tone. “Yeah, Eli and Moon really went all out.”

“No kidding.” Sam admitted, with an amused scoff. “It’s like Moon invited half the freaking Valley.”

Miguel gave off a chuckle and, like a contagion, Sam found herself giggling in tandem. At her laugh, Miguel’s smirk twisted into a full-on smile and she saw the faintest hint of pink dotting his cheeks. It was a sight she was well familiar with by now, but never grew tired of. Miguel stepped forward, his figure further bathed in the lamplight, and decided to sit down directly next to Sam. The bed creaked and rumbled with Miguel’s weight, and already she could feel the warmth of his waist touching hers.

“So what did you wanna talk about?” Miguel gently questioned, clasping his hands and resting them between his legs.

Sam thought for a moment, contemplating on just how to approach this. She unhinged her pink handbag from her shoulder and rested it on her lap, fingers absentmindedly tapping against authentic leather. She decided she didn’t want to address it right away, because it wasn’t just about the octopus necklace. It wasn’t just about the fact she wanted to get back together with him.

It was about the qualifier fights this afternoon, the fight she’d had against Devon Lee for a chance to enter Miyagi-Do and Eagle Fang into the most high-profile karate tournament in the world. When she was denied the fight against Tory she’d built up in her head, when she was denied the chance to atone for the All-Valley, Sam felt off-balance. When the referee continually sided with Devon against all logic, making these absurd calls that put her down a whole point, Sam was scatterbrained and lost.

Then Miguel cut through the noise in her mind, the fear and paranoia, and comforted her the way he knew best: By being there for her.

“I really wanted to thank you. For what you said at the exhibition.” Sam explained. “I really needed it.”

Miguel, as Sam had come to know and respect, played it off so cool. But she saw the glimmer behind his eyes, the way his lips curled slightly upward, as he let out a sheepish scoff.

“I don’t know about need .” Miguel countered. “You’d have won anyway, I’m sure of it.”

“But all the same, I really appreciate it.” Sam immediately replied, reinforcing it by gently placing a hand on his knee. “It’s nice, y’know? To know when someone’s rooting for me, even when I’m not.”

Miguel sheepishly scoffed again, his head slightly bowed in supplication.

“I’m always rooting for you, Sam.” Miguel whispered.

He made it sound so simple, so casual. But the warmth that washed over her when his words rang in her ears couldn’t be overstated. The heat flushed in her cheeks once again and she found herself utterly transfixed by his gentle, knowing brown eyes. He knew as well as she did, that his statement was more than about his support. It was an echo.

An echo of their encounter at the All-Valley, after he quit the tournament. When he met out in the hallway before the finals. She was so stupid, so consumed by her upcoming match with Tory, she should’ve seen the signs right in front of her face. She should’ve told Miguel not to go, or at least… take her with him. But she understood, just like she did, he needed that time to figure himself out.

She wanted to fulfill that echo and kiss him, taste him on her lips. But not yet. She needed to know first.

“You look awesome, by the way.”

Sam bolted back to reality, breaking into an astonished smile, and giggled.

“You think so?” Sam coyly queried.

Miguel fervently nodded, and clearly wanted Sam to think that was all his answer was. But she saw the way his eyes darted down her, perusing her. He played it off innocently, oh so innocently, but she knew a facade when she saw it. It wasn’t pervasive, wasn’t gross, but Miguel was biting his tongue. Holding back, for her sake. Normally, she appreciated it. But tonight, here, she just wanted him to cut loose.

She made her decision, her hands fidgeting with her handbag and unclasping its flap.

“I suppose.. I could’ve gone even fancier if I wanted to.” Sam playfully interjected, prompting an amused snort from Miguel.

“Not sure how you could get much fancier than this. Unless you got some ruby slippers?” Miguel teased.

“Or..” Sam suggested, the playfulness evaporating from her voice. “I could’ve worn this.”

Sam pulled the golden octopus necklace from her handbag and steadily uncurled her hand, exposing the necklace to the light of the world. In the soft lamplight, it didn’t shimmer or glitter quite so profusely as it did outside, but she didn’t care.

“Is this yours? I found it at Miyagi-Do.” Sam implored.

Miguel didn’t need to say a word before she found the answer she was looking for, the confirmation she desired. It was written all over his face, from the way his expression twisted in subtle recognition and the way he faintly scoffed in astonishment, like seeing an old photo. This necklace was hers and now, written all over his face, Sam could see it was his as well.

“That was, uhh..” Miguel quietly murmured “It was supposed to be yours. But, uhh..”

“But I broke up with you, before you could give it to me.” Sam concluded.

Miguel tilted his head in concession as the faintest smirk dawned his face. He peered back at her, the emotion behind his eyes a mystery, and Sam’s attention was utterly enraptured. He let out a gentle breath and nodded.

“Something like that.” Miguel breathed out, low and relieved like a weight had been lifted from his chest.

“So you weren’t really fine with breaking up?” Sam queried trepidatiously.

Miguel gave off one of those tiny, half-effort shrugs as contemplation dawned his expression.

“I mean, it’s not what I wanted.” Miguel admitted.

It wasn’t what she wanted, either. But it was what she needed. She couldn’t be the girl he wanted her to be while dealing with all of the shit swamping her, day and night. Couldn’t be a dutiful, caring, loving girlfriend while her mind was being torn apart by other things. It wasn’t fair to him, and it wasn’t fair to her either.

“But… You said that you weren’t okay. You needed some time and.. That just seemed like it was more important.” Miguel answered.

She felt it too: That weight lifted from her chest, her heart freed from a prison she didn’t realize it was trapped in to begin with. In an instant, Sam felt waves of anxiety and uncertainty wash away, replaced by a soothing and lingering presence Sam surrendered to, completely and utterly. She recognized it as the same presence she felt sitting atop of Miguel, grass at his back, as the lights of Golf n’ Stuff shimmered and blinked in the background. When she peered down at him, smiling from ear to ear, and concluded he’d given her the best night any boy had ever given her. As she tasted him on her lips for the very first time, Sam could scarcely comprehend the pleasure and sanctity she felt. It was mesmerizing, just like it was now.

“Thank you.” Sam whispered, from the bottom of her heart. “Means a lot to me.”

“Of course.” Miguel answered immediately, shimmying on the bed and allowing their waists to touch ever-so-lightly.

Again, he answered so casually. Sam just couldn’t get over how– –

“I mean, that’s what you do when you love someone, right?”

The thoughts vanished from her mind. She could no longer hear the muffled music outside, nor the shrill laughter of the party guests. It was like the very world had faded away and this tiny cube of a bedroom was all that remained. Her breath caught in her throat, her heart practically seized in her chest, and she stared back at him with undisguised shock. Did she.. Of course she’d heard him right.

She’d had boys tell her they liked her. That she was cute, beautiful, hot. But never… He never…

“You’ve never said that before.” Sam whispered, her blood like lava in her veins.

This time, Miguel couldn’t hold it in. With a barely-restrained smile, Miguel let out a brief and coy laugh, tilting his head in feigned shock. Every second that passed as she watched him, every little movement she picked up on, Sam’s heart grew a size. It was absolutely stunning. He was absolutely stunning.

Nobody made her laugh the way he did, nobody made her feel wanted the way he did. Nobody peered into her heart so easily and understood her the way that he did. Many had tried, Robby among them, but none of them made it seem so… effortless.

“Well, uhh..” Miguel finally whispered, meeting her gaze with utter sincerity and the softest smirk painted on his face. “Well I do.”

The pressure valve inside her broke apart, her heart bursting at the seams. Her ocean-blue eyes fluttered, her heart pounding at her chest, demanding her to tell him. She didn’t hesitate, she didn’t need to “think about it”. The words she’d wanted to say for so long came pouring out of her with every drop of affection, reverence and love she could possibly infuse into them.

“I love you too.”

Sam wasn’t sure how or when it happened, who made the first move, but she was kissing him. Her eyes sealed themselves as firm, glossy lips pressed themselves to hers and explosions erupted in her mind. Pleasure and warmth seeped into every cell of her body, her heart singing with joy, as she returned his efforts with a gentle enthusiasm.

She felt his warm, calloused hand clutch at her left cheek, his thumb meticulously weaving a circle on her skin. She parted her lips, intent on making the next move, but she forgot: Miguel was once Cobra Kai, and they loved to strike first. Her move was intercepted, as Miguel’s tongue slowly entered and traded glancing blows against her own. Hair stood up on end, heat threatened to explode out of her skin and she unleashed a quiet moan against his lips.

Without prompting or even a second thought, Sam found her hands running down his chest, fabric contorting between her fingers. His response, a low and measured rumble, sent an electric shock shooting down her spine, jolting into parts of her body seldom touched, seldom explored. Very slowly, every second measured and savored, Miguel pulled away and separated their kiss. A single thread of saliva connected the two but Sam flicked her tongue across her lips to disconnect them, and took abject joy in the way Miguel’s eyes widened at the sight. She stared at him playfully, her lips forming into a toothy smile, and silently beckoned him to match her.

But instead, Miguel’s hand slowly caressed down her cheek, painting a line from the crest of her chin to her collarbone, and finally let it drop. His hand lingered right next to her own, until it finally threaded between the necklace still waiting in the palm of her hand.

“May I?” Miguel whispered.

Sam nodded fervently, allowing Miguel to steadily take the necklace from her gasp. She shifted her position, facing her back to Miguel and used her hands to carefully lift up her brunette mane without ruining the shape or form. This hairstyle took her 50 minutes to accomplish, she’d hate to see it fall apart in 5. But this? This was worth it.

The metal was so light, gently brushing against her skin, as Miguel meticulously applied the necklace and clicked it together. She thought that was that. Then she felt them: Warm fingertips, almost like blades of grass, caressing the sides of her neck. Exploring, massaging.

Sam closed her eyes, let her arms drop to her sides, and tilted her head back in complete submission to his will. Miguel’s fingers brushed gently against the surface of her skin, meticulously surveying the sides of her neck with deft and care. His hands traveled along her shoulders in synchronicity, only briefly interrupted by the fabric of her dress, before she felt his warm embrace running down her arms.

Sam opened her mouth to say something, to ask him how his gift looked on her, but all that escaped her lips was a soft and barely-restrained moan as Miguel’s lips pressed to the nape of her neck, warm and puffy and wet. Sam let out a sheepish giggle, echoed by a low chuckle from Miguel, as she allowed him to take control.

She liked steering course when they made out, and she knew Miguel loved it too. But this? She needed this, as badly as he did. All Summer, she’d craved him. Called herself stupid and flawed for denying herself this. But these were the intrusive thoughts of a scared girl not ready to accept that she needed to take time for herself. To understand her place in all of this.

Now that she had, she was stronger for it. Better for it. She was ready to be everything she desired to be, and more. Starting with this.

Miguel’s hands finally came to rest at her hips, gripping onto them with a fervency that sent sparks shooting through her body. Down her spine, through her chest, between… Between her legs. Teeth grazed against her neck with gentility, his hot breath soaking into her skin, and Sam couldn’t resist the urge to quietly moan one more time.

“Miguel.” Sam whispered ecstatically.

She reached her left hand behind her, quickly finding that wild mane of brunette hair, and broke into a wide smile as she threaded it between her fingers and gripped onto it with subtle vigor. All the while, she reached down to her handbag and pulled it from her lap, not a care in the world as she heard it drop to the musty carpet of Miguel’s bedroom.

It was at this point that Miguel separated them completely. His hands fled, his ravishing lips retreated, and Sam barely bit back her disappointment. But the warmth never fled. Her body was still alight with sparks of heat, her neck tingling like it was anticipating his touch. She shifted her position once more, her exposed legs hanging over the edge of his bed, and looked back at Miguel. Her boyfriend. His chocolate-brown eyes were restrained and gentle, shamelessly looking her up and down, with his very best attempt at a stoic expression painted on his face.

But there was no hiding the way he looked at her. The way his breath trembled against the skin of her neck. His eyes finally met hers and, with a coy smirk, Sam decided that two could play at this game.

She slowly, utterly shamelessly, dragged her eyes down him. Examining his lean arms, glistening with faint dots of sweat from the summer heat. His stylish clothes clung to him, fitting his broad figure superbly. Her eyes traveled down further towards his jeans, examining how the material clung to his body. For a few silent moments, she shamelessly ogled him, drinking in his superb sight just as she had before.

She returned her gaze to his wide, lovestruck eyes and met his astonished expression with a toothy grin. Miguel let out a nearly indiscernible gasp, and his lips curled into a crescent. His cheeks flushed with warmth, Miguel scratched at the back of his head and his eyes darted around the room.

“Well, that was pretty awesome.” Miguel bluntly remarked, prompting Sam to giggle.

“Yeah, it was.” Sam whispered.

It took only a moment of eye contact to figure out their next move, with Sam watching with shameless glee as Miguel did exactly as she hoped he would. Miguel nonchalantly kicked off his shoes and pulled himself completely onto the bed. As Sam kicked off her own Converses, her attention shamelessly fixated on him the entire time, Miguel pulled himself to the other end of his bed. His legs straightened out, Miguel leaned up against the wooden headboard with his back supported by two bulbous white pillows.

Making every movement slow and dramatic for his entertainment, Sam pulled herself onto Miguel’s bed and began to crawl towards him on her hands and knees. She reveled in his astonished stare, complemented with chipmunk cheeks and dorky grin, as she crawled over him, thighs astride him hidden beneath her billowing dress, and sat firmly on his upper thighs.

She was impatient, unable to stand another second of waiting, before she leaned herself forward and pressed her lips to his. It took only the softest of moans escaping Sam’s lips before Miguel’s hands caressed along her hips, before traveling to the small of her back. His touch was blazing hot, in the most pleasurable way possible.

There was nobody else who could make her feel this level of ecstasy, nobody who could capture her heart the way he did. What she shared with Miguel was unique, irreplaceable. Yes, it was flawed. But it was only through those flaws that true perfection could be achieved.

His hands massaged up her back, dragging out every little movement and alighting Sam’s body with spikes of euphoria.  Miguel’s lips parted, his tongue dragged a teasing horizontal line along her lips, and Sam welcomed him inside without hesitation. But he didn’t advance. Not yet.

“Still reckon we should grab those empanadas and hit the dance floor?” Miguel breathily teased.

Sam let loose a sharp giggle and sighed graciously against his lips, as one of his hands flew up and entangled itself in her hair, threading between brunette locks and filling her heart with glee. He gripped onto her hair nice and tight, but Sam somehow kept her composure. If she lost control now, there’d be no turning back. Maybe she didn’t want to turn back.

“We could. Or we could stay here. Let them have all the pizza, and the booze.” Sam suggested playfully.

She took a risk she normally never took, and bit down on Miguel’s bottom lip. He let out a sharp, pleasured sigh underneath his breath, before separating their kiss and leaning back. Sam didn’t advance with her lips but her hands were not so patient, pressing splayed palms against his stomach and contorting the fabric of his black shirt between her fingertips.

“You can have me instead.”

His chocolate eyes, addicting and gentle and exhilarated, scanned Sam meticulously in disbelief. All she could do was smile proudly, playfully, at him as he came to the conclusion she was being utterly serious. His lips curled into an ecstatic grin and she took that as her signal. It was time to go on the offensive.

Gripping tight onto his shirt, Sam pulled herself forward and waited for Miguel to go in for a regular kiss, before ducking her head and instead targeting his neck with a firm kiss to his Adam’s Apple. Spurred by his breathy sound of surprise, Sam began peppering his beautiful neck with hot, fervent kisses intent on showering every inch of his skin with her love. Miguel tilted his head back, let out a low and breathy groan, and that’s when she felt it again.

That spark between her legs, like a throbbing bolt of lightning. She couldn’t even call it “warm” anymore, it was boiling hot. She wasn’t an idiot, she’d taken Sex Ed classes and she’d… touched herself before. She knew exactly what it was, and she knew exactly what the cause was.

This wasn’t the first time he’d provoked this from her.

The first time she’d felt it with Miguel was early in their relationship, a couple of weeks before they’d broken up. She had him up against his locker, making out right before Lunch came to an end, and his hands had wandered just a little too low and grabbed her ass. Miguel apologized profusely, insisted it was an accident, and didn’t seem to pick up on the fact that his touch had provoked nothing but a thrill Sam had scarcely known before.

The second time was totally on purpose. It was the morning they’d gotten back together, when she was showing him around Miyagi-Do and explaining to her what her father and grandfather’s karate meant to her. She showed him the Drum Technique and he’d elected to show some moves of his own, scooping her to the ground and sliding his tongue into her mouth. If her Dad hadn’t interrupted, she wondered how far things would’ve gone.

Another low groan from Miguel snapped Sam back to reality and she further provoked him by biting seductively at his neck, digging her teeth gently into his skin. She was making him experience exactly what he’d made her feel, and it felt so right . But it wasn’t until Miguel gripped onto her hips firmly and pulled her totally onto his lap, that she finally found the proof.

She’d taken Sex Ed class. She’d touched herself before. She knew what this was too.

Her first reaction to the feel of him was a gentle gasp, barely muffled by his neck. Denim drawn taut into a protruding tightness that seemed to fit against her to perfection. The imprisonment of denim, the further shield of fabric her wrap dress provided, did nothing to protect from the heat that cascaded through her body. He was so hard, and it was nestled in the perfect position probably completely by accident. Miguel showed no signs of moving, his hesitancy completely understandable, and even she could feel the nervousness bite at her insides.

But she could also sense it: Miguel wanted this as badly as she did. Like her, he didn’t want this to remain unexplored territory, a line they never crossed. Sam leaned herself up from his neck, the tip of their noses touching in closeness, and peered into his beautiful chocolate eyes. There was no mistaking the recognition, the hunger. He knew, just as she did, that all it would take is a wriggle. All it would take is for her to roll her hips, and he’d be touching somewhere only her fingers had ever graced.

So that’s exactly what she did.

The magnitude of electricity beneath her thighs was impossible to properly describe, her noise buried beneath the trembling groan that escaped Miguel’s lips. The sensation was familiar, similar to when she’d lock herself in her bathroom and explore, but this was different. This was him .

“Sam..” Miguel whispered in a tone entirely too low. His eye contact was intense, unwavering and pierced through her defenses like a hot knife through butter.

He was so fucking hot. She didn’t tell him enough, she’d never been very good at showering him in compliments the same way he did for her, but she could spend an hour telling him how handsome, with an addicting boyish charm that made her come undone, he truly was. She wanted to tell him that, despite her hesitance towards anything sexual, that hadn’t stopped her mind from wandering on more than one occasion. Picturing what it’d be like if he bested her in a sparring match, pinned her to the ground with her hands above her head and disrobed her of her gi.

But why tell him when she could show him?

Sam felt Miguel’s hands clasp tight against her hips and rolled them again, feeling that perfect length massage up against her. The two moaned in synchronicity, Sam tilting her head back in supplication, as she rolled them a third time. He felt so perfectly pressed up against her like this, even as he was imprisoned in denim and she was protected by a $400 dress. To know that it could get better than this was both frightfully daunting yet incredibly exciting. But were they ready for that?

“Miguel.” Sam cooed, drawling out his name quietly and closing her eyes in pleasure.

Miguel leaned himself forward and began to press brief, but exquisite, kisses to her neckline. She broke into a wide, toothy smile that immediately split apart and released a soft moan as Miguel purposefully pulled her by her hips, rubbing her against his erection at just the right angle to send a jolt shooting up her spine.

“Feel good?” Miguel queried with a knowing tease.

“Amazing.” Sam answered without hesitation, grinding her teeth on her bottom lip. “You feel amazing, babe.”

“So do you.” Miguel whispered. “This is… freaking amazing. You’re freaking amazing.”

“Well, we could spend the next half an hour repeating it back to each other like we’re in Riverdale .” Sam declared, swiping her hair from her face and peering down at him affectionately.

“I’m not opposed to that.” Miguel quipped with a dorky smile.

But Sam had other ideas. A sweet and toothy smile painted on her face, she reached up a hand to tenderly stroke his cheek, before dragging both her hand and her eyes in a line down the center of his chest. Her fingers grazed down his black shirt, examining the iconography carefully.

“Or… You could take this off.” Sam implored, snapping her eyes back to Miguel’s and reveling in the excitement his gaze betrayed.

At first, he said nothing and Sam was worried he would reply with a denial or perhaps insisting that they weren’t ready for something like that, as if she couldn’t feel his dick underneath her right now. But instead Miguel leaned back, his exhilarated gaze trained on her the entire time, and stylishly shook the navy flannel shirt loose from his shoulders, dropping it behind him. Miguel reached into his waistband and pulled his black shirt up and over his head, before discarding both articles of clothing unceremoniously to the carpet floor.

He was tense, anticipating her reaction, with a silent anxiety. But his fears were unfounded. Unlike Robby, who seemed physically allergic to shirts, she’d never seen Miguel shirtless before. But it was almost scary how he looked exactly how she fantasized in her head. His skin golden-brown, clean-shaven to perfectly show off his musculature, was glistening with beauty against the lamplight. Broad shoulders transitioned into arms that, while still lean, certainly showed off his workout routine. As her gaze drifted down to his belly, she bit her bottom lip at the faint hint of his abs and the V-Line that acted almost like an arrow towards her next objective.

Those damn jeans.

“Beautiful.” Sam whispered plainly. That word alone lit up Miguel like a Christmas tree, his toothy grin stretching ear-to-ear and an astonished breath escaping him.

Sam’s hands couldn’t resist any further. She could finally feel his body heat from the source as her splayed palms pressed against his bare chest. Sam’s insides lit up, seeing Miguel close his eyes and revel in her touch. One of her hands drifted diagonally across his pec and rested squarely over his heart, the rhythmic beating thumping beneath her fingertips. It only took her a moment before she realized.. That their hearts were beating in synchronicity. Literally beating as one. Shit. She thought that only happened in the movies.

Sam parted her hands and leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to the dead-center of Miguel’s upper chest. She felt his skin seize up and took pride in the trembling breath that escaped his lips, as Miguel’s hands gripped onto her hips tightly. Possessively. So freaking hot. She flicked her tongue against his skin, indulging in his taste, and opened her mouth to tease him.

Only for her words to be subsumed by a sharp, embarrassingly vocal moan as Miguel pressed her against him and rolled his hips against her. It was just the right angle, just the right amount of contact, to fool her for a moment into thinking that they’d really done it. Sam, out of both embarrassment and sheer arousal, leaned her forehead against Miguel’s chest and let out sharp, ragged breaths that splashed warm breath against his chest.

“Fuck.” Sam whispered, snapping her eyes shut. She felt warm breath cascade against her earlobe and cheek as Miguel curled over her like a protective bird.

“Sam LaRusso saying the F word. Now there’s a first.” Miguel quietly teased, breaking her into an embarrassed smirk.

“Keep it up, and I get the feeling I’ll be saying it a lot more times.” Sam snarked.

Teeth grinded on her earlobe and Sam closed her eyes to indulge in the sensation.

“I sure hope so.” Miguel whispered.

It happened again. He rubbed himself against her, using his grip on her hips to keep her in the perfect position for the roll of his hips, and Sam had to bite down on her bottom lip hard to suppress her moan. It was easy to forget there were a ton of people outside and she didn’t want them hearing what was happening. But at some point, she got the feeling she would stop giving a shit.

Patience was becoming an intense trial and every single time Miguel pressed his denim-wrapped erection to her, the less interested she was in partaking in that trial. Miguel’s hands drifted up from her hips finally, drawing a line up the sides of her body. They maneuvered to her arms, gently caressing up to her shoulders, before finally coming to rest at the ruffled shoulder straps of her dress.

No. Not yet.

“Miguel, wait.” Sam commanded softly and, instantaneously, Miguel’s hands retreated. They separated all upper body contact and leaned back from each other. Miguel looked confused, a little worried, and Sam could hardly blame him. His cheeks flushed with warmth, his eyes scouring her, Miguel’s lips twisted into an anxious frown.

“I’m sorry, Sam. I went too far. I…”

“Not at all, silly.” Sam insisted, vehemently shaking her head with a sweet smile. “I just want to drag this out a little longer.”

Miguel perked up an eyebrow, tilting his head curiously, and Sam shot him a gentle smile as she scootched back and dislodged herself from his lap. Immediately, Sam noticed that where Miguel’s intense heat had been, there was now a subtle dampness in her panties. Again, this was not the first time Miguel had provoked this from her either. But to feel it here, now, was something else entirely.

Her eyes drifted down… and snapped open like dinner plates. It wasn’t dramatic or exaggerated, like you saw in raunchy comedies, but there was now absolutely no denying the tent that had formed in Miguel’s lap. It was shapeless, too indiscernible to determine things like length or look, but there was no mistaking what was desperately trying to escape the tight denim.

Sam bit down on her bottom lip, slowly drifting a vacant hand up one of his thighs, and drifting it closer to his lap. She heard Miguel unleash a sharp, anxious breath and slowed her movements. She wanted him to know it was okay, that he didn’t have to be afraid. Her hand made it to the tightness, and she steadily wrapped her hand around his erection.

All she could feel in her hand was denim, with a vibrant warmth emanating from beneath, but it was clear Miguel felt so much more than that.

“Sam..” Miguel groaned out, in a low hush that intensified the wetness between her legs.

For a moment, she debated her next move. She wanted to feel it move in her hand for the very first time. She wanted to watch him squirm and moan while she stroked it. It would be so easy from where she was positioned, from the way Miguel offered no resistance. But if she was going to do something like this, step so far over the line she’d drawn in the sand so long ago, then she wanted to make it count. She wanted…

She wanted…

“I want to see it.” she whispered.

Sam looked back up at Miguel and honestly found his reaction more “adorable” than anything. His hair was tousled, wild, like she’d inadvertently electrocuted him and there were beads of sweat forming on his forehead. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, his eyes wide and observant, and his mouth hung slightly agape with ragged breaths escaping intermittently.

He didn’t understand how beautiful he looked, how beautiful she found him. Wavy brunette curls reflecting dim lamplight, his chest rising and falling with every breath. She wanted him. She needed him. But if this isn’t something he wanted, she would deny herself again. She could never take that away from him.

“We don’t have to. If you don’t want to.” Sam reassured nervously, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Huh?” Miguel perked up, peering at her confusedly. Beneath her inquiring stare, Miguel shook his head.

“No, no, no. I… I want this, I do.” Miguel stammered. “It’s just that… You and I, we’ve never, uhh… I mean we’ve…”

They’d never taken each other's clothes off. They’d never touched each other like this. They’d never had sex. She’d never felt his mouth between her legs, or what he’d feel like in her mouth. None of that. It seemed beyond them, in all honesty. They were still kids, fumbling their way through high school while dealing with a violent karate war.

But here, now? All she wanted was him. All of him.

“I know, and I totally understand if this is too abrupt for you.” Sam reassured, clutching at her arm anxiously. “I just…”

Her thoughts evaporated into the wind. Lost as Miguel planted two fingers on the crest of her chin and tilted her head up. They were nose-to-nose, his chocolate eyes piercing into her soul, and his warm breath splashed against her face with every exhalation.

“Sam. Do you want this?” Miguel queried, his tone stern and completely serious.

Yes.

She’d wanted this for a while. She couldn’t tell him when, just like she couldn’t tell him when exactly she decided that she truly loved him. Maybe it was a decision she’d come to after one specific moment. Or maybe it was a gradually evolving feeling, spontaneous. She didn’t know. What she did know was that here, tonight, she wanted him in every way she could ever want a boy.

“Yes.” Sam whispered sincerely, without reservation or hesitation.

Miguel could try as much as he liked… but there was no hiding the satisfaction, the triumph, in his eyes.

“So do I.” Miguel answered, without reservation or hesitation.

Sam pressed herself against him ever so gently, craning both of their heads down slightly and leaning her forehead against his. Their noses touching, their foreheads touching, their hearts beating as one, Sam felt perfectly in synchronicity with the boy that she loved, a boy she wanted to call her own for the rest of her life. She couldn’t think of a more perfect night, a more perfect situation, and a more perfect boy to do this with.

“So what do you think?” Miguel queried, that boyish charm in his voice. “What do you want?”

Sam lightly chuckled at his question, several answers swirling around in her head. Some civil, some not-so-civil. This… was not a time for civility. She wanted Miguel at his most instinctual, his most raw, his most shameless and uncovered. She wanted to see everything he could do, just as she wanted him to see all that she could do.

But as for right now, this second?

“I want these stupid fucking jeans gone.” Sam bluntly answered.

It happened so fast. 

Fingers tangled in brunette hair, gripping with delightful and feverish desire. His tongue sliding between her teeth, teasingly darting at the tip of her own. His lips, wet and puffy, soaking heat and love into every pore of her skin. Another hand hooked around her, a splayed hand on her back, pushing her even closer to him. Sam’s senses of taste, touch, even smell were bombarded with euphoria and Sam let out a moan against Miguel’s lips, a subtle mark of her appreciation for him. But enough was enough. She couldn’t resist any longer.

Sam planted both of her hands on Miguel’s chest and pushed with all of her strength, forcing him back-first onto the bed with his head practically bouncing off of the fluffy white pillow. He watched her, a supportive smile on his face, as her hands moved to the fly of his jeans. She took one more look at him, a “Last chance if you wanna back out” look.

All she saw in his face, all she heard reverberating in her mind, was the words: “I love you”.

I love you too.

She unhooked the thick, copper button… and pulled down his zipper.

Chapter Text

“Somethin’ ‘bout you makes me feel like a dangerous woman!”

“Somethin’ ‘bout, somethin’ ‘bout, somethin’ ‘bout you.”

“Makes me wanna do things that I shouldn’t!”

“Somethin’ ‘bout, somethin’ ‘bout, somethin’ ‘bout you.”

Tilting his head back and raising a crimson cup to his lips, no amount of bracing stopped Robby’s face from scrunching inwards as warm alcohol glided down his throat and united with the biting heat emanating from deep inside him. With a grossed-out groan, Robby indignantly spiked his empty plastic cup into the nearby bin and shook his head like a wet dog in a vain attempt to dispel the frankly appalling aftertaste. Just like every other time he’d tried, it didn’t help. How anyone drank this shit on a daily basis, Robby would never understand. Tasted like… expired milk, and Eli had the balls to call this “the good stuff”. 

The party was now comfortably at its peak, the arrival of Eli’s massive pizza order injecting new life and vigor into the atmosphere, supplemented by a second alcohol delivery by what could only be described as the shadiest UberEats driver Robby had ever seen in his life. Nobody seemed to mind, though, as the party quickly intensified. Some of the boys from East Valley had started getting overzealous, but Robby and Eli had both been pretty good at shutting that shit down. Most of the Miyagi-Dos and Eagle Fangs had moved outside, taking up the courtyard dance floor, while Demetri was hosting a big game of Monopoly in the living room of the Diaz household. Judging from Demetri’s constantly smug expression, and the jaded irritation of everyone else’s, it was clear which way the wind was blowing. Robby silently hoped Demetri could keep his ego in check: He didn’t want to have to explain to Miguel and Sam how Demetri wound up strangled in the living room.

Speaking of Miguel and Sam…

“They’ve been in there a while, huh?” Robby noted, once again perched up by the kitchen bench like it was his unofficial observation post.

Robby looked over at Eli, who was trapped in thought and performing what felt like kitchen-counter surgery on a Bluetooth speaker that’d abruptly conked out. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration and he showed no signs he’d even heard Robby.

“They’ve been in there a while, huh?” Robby repeated, slightly louder.

“What?” Eli muttered, not diverting his gaze from the stubborn speaker.

“Miguel and Sam.” Robby quickly clarified, nodding off towards the silent, amber-drenched hallway that led to the back rooms. “They’ve been gone, what, 20 minutes now? Think they’re okay in there?”

Eli just scoffed, as he fidgeted with the speaker’s back panel for the seventeenth time. The definition of insanity.

“They’re probably just chatting, talking things out, probably other stuff too.” Eli commented vaguely. “You know how those two are.”

“ Other stuff?” Robby queried. 

But he was only met with a snarl of frustration as Eli officially surrendered and leaned back from the bench, practically slamming the inert speaker on the bench with a grumbled curse. A snort of hot air escaped Eli’s nostrils, before he composed himself by running a hand through his brunette hair and finally turned his attention on Robby.

“Making out. Locking lips. Y’know, that sorta thing.” Eli casually commented, with a hint of pride in his voice.

Robby simply perked up an eyebrow.

“C’mon, don’t give me that.” Eli bit back, with a snarky grin. “You saw the way they were gawking at each other. I’m surprised they could keep their hands to themselves that long.”

Robby vaguely nodded and looked away from Eli, back towards the passionate gathering of partygoers in the living room, huddled over the Monopoly board like a witch’s cauldron. Demetri had his head in his hands, despondent and crestfallen, as a girl nearby was smugly counting up Monopoly bills like an antique dealer. Didn’t take a genius to put two and two together. Just like it didn’t take a genius to know that Eli… was probably right about Miguel and Sam, and Robby wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

Sure, what they got up to was ultimately their business and, in a way, Robby had encouraged this. But he worried about whether either of them, particularly Sam, were ready for that. When he and Sam had patched things up, she’d mentioned that she was taking a break from Miguel and, with great hesitation, explained why. He worried Sam was doing something she wasn’t yet prepared for. Besides…

“What’s wrong? You jealous it’s not you in there with Sam?” Eli needled from his side, not a hint of lightheartedness in his voice.

Robby failed to suppress his irritated sigh as his lime-green eyes snapped shut. Should’ve seen that coming.

Miguel, he understood. Their shared history with Sam was a complicated mess, one where he and Miguel had come to the conclusion that just not talking about it would be easiest for the both of them, and Summer was no doubt dredging up memories for Miguel just like it was for him. Besides, Robby had almost killed Miguel over Sam. It was only fair, in Robby’s opinion, that Miguel be allowed the occasional potshot.

But Eli was just being either overprotective, nosey or a bit of both, and Robby didn’t appreciate it.

“It’s not like that, dude.” Robby flatly defended, keeping his eye on the Monopoly game and hoping that would be the end of it. But when was it ever the end of it with Eli?

“So Miguel says, and maybe he’s right. But you can’t blame me for being cautious.” Eli defended, but Robby just scoffed.

“Actually, yeah. I can.” Robby immediately countered, finally darting his gaze from the game over to Eli. 

Eli’s lips were pursed, glassy blue eyes betraying a nervousness despite his combative expression. Eli’s complete inability to back down was simultaneously one of his best and worst features, and Robby sincerely hoped that Eli’s loss to Kenny wouldn’t exacerbate the issue. Robby let out another sigh and turned his full attention to Eli. 

“I get that you wanna protect Miguel. But whatever CW shit you think is going on, it isn’t. So give it a rest.” Robby cautioned as clearly as possible. 

Eli’s response was simple, yet stunned Robby into silence.

“It’s not Miguel I’m trying to protect.”

For more than a couple of seconds, Robby could do nothing but stare back at Eli with abject surprise written across his face. The sincerity in Eli’s voice stung to Robby’s core, and the emphatic expression on his face evaporated any snarky retort Robby could’ve possibly hoped to conjure. Robby’s shoulders slumped, his face twisted in a frown, and a regretful noise escaped him. He had no intention of hurting Sam. Not now… and not last Summer either. Ditto for Miguel. It was never his intention to swoop in and steal Sam, even if a part of him had kinda wanted to. Just like it was never his intention to hurt Sam by lying about Mr Miyagi’s Medal of Honor. All he’d been trying to do was stop Miguel from earning points in Sam’s book when, in Robby’s mind, he hadn’t deserved it. But things were different now, Robby knew it and so did Miguel. Eli should, too.

But any attempt to vocalize failed to escape Robby’s lips, and he found himself uttering nothing but a strangled and disappointed sigh. To Eli’s credit, recognition flashed across his face and his features quickly softened, but a tense air of awkwardness remained. Robby took another look off towards the Monopoly game, at Demetri’s returned smile of gratification and the seething glares of everyone around him. 

“Look, man, I’m sorry.” Eli followed up, his voice gentle, riddled with sincerity and regret. “I didn’t… didn’t mean to imply…”

That he was a homewrecker? A parasite that fluttered from one relationship to the next, screwing up each one he touched? Maybe that’s not what Eli was implying, and Robby didn’t believe himself to be that, but his mind couldn’t help but wander. Not to Sam, not to Miguel, not even to Eli or Demetri. But to another he tried to help, someone he tried to see good inside when quite literally everyone else had abandoned that prospect.

Tory.

They’d found something in each other Robby hadn’t even been looking for at first. Didn’t think there was anything to be found, just preoccupied with how to get back at his Dad and how to channel all the hate inside of him to become stronger, to become Cobra Kai and Kreese’s champion. But the more he lingered around her, the more he came to understand her. Her fierceness, her passion, her true motivation for doing what she does, and the hurt that existed inside Tory, same as him. Then it’d gotten screwed up. She insisted on remaining in lockstep with that complete douchebag Silver, and Robby had reached his limit. 

Tired of his pleas falling on deaf ears, he’d dumped her. Screwed up another relationship. Played the homewrecker again. Well done, Robby.

“Dude, I’m serious.” Eli quickly piped up again, his voice aching with worry. “I--”

“Eli.” Robby immediately interrupted, looking at the mohawked boy with a piercing, gentle glare.

Eli looked properly concerned, like Robby had just fallen on his ass and Eli was tending to him like a doctor. Doctor Moskowitz was a pretty neat doctor name, now that he thought about it. But Robby just gently stared back at the kid, lime-green capturing his light-blue, and gave him an understanding smirk.

“Thank you.” It was Eli’s turn to be shocked into silence.

“For looking out for them.” Robby added. “It’s actually pretty comforting to know someone else is in their corner, y’know? …Helps that you’re not a complete dick anymore.”

Eli’s mouth twitched upwards, his expression of astonishment a fascinating echo of a look he’d seen on Miguel’s face from time to time. The two rubbed off on each other more than Eli maybe realized. Regardless, the tension in the air slowly faded into the night and Robby could feel the hostility and suspicion flee from Eli like they were in the freaking Exorcist.

“Never pegged you for the empathetic type.” Eli quipped back, his lips curling into a fully fledged and honest-to-God welcome smile. “You’ve got layers.”

“Like an onion. I’m a true ogre at heart.” snarked Robby, and the two boys broke into a warm chorus of chuckles.

The noise was drowned out by a chorus of yelling and exuberance emanating from the living room, as the Monopoly crowd erupted in a symphony of cheers, yelling and jeers. Robby questioned what could’ve provoked the reaction… but quickly discovered there was no need to speculate, as Demetri shot up out of his seat, shooting his arms up triumphantly.

“In the words of the maligned colonialists: This land belongs to me!” Demetri triumphantly called at the top of his lungs, prompting a loud whoop from Eli and several others. 

Robby chuckled, clapping along as Demetri triumphantly planted red hotel pieces on Board Walk, arguably the most valuable and game-changing property on the board. But as entertaining as the game truly was, Robby’s stomach was beginning to churn and snarl, and there was still zero sign of Sam and Miguel. Besides, what good was it to be at a party and hang out by a freaking kitchen bench all night?

“Alright.” Robby noted, leaning over and tapping Eli on the shoulder. “I’m gonna grab some pizza. Wanna come with?”

But Eli just shook his head.

“Nah, I’m tuckered out on food for the next… 5 minutes.” Eli quipped with a shark-toothed smile. “Besides, I better stay here, make sure nobody stabs Demetri.”

“Call me over if there’s any bloodshed.” Robby instructed with a hint of levity.

With one final fistbump exchanged, officially euthanizing their argument, Robby broke away from Eli and strode out of the open doorway of the Diaz home, out into the apartment courtyard and the fresh night air overlaid with the addictive and alluring scent of pizza and spicy empanadas. The courtyard had calmed down just a little bit since he was last out here, but a bunch of people were still vibing and their makeshift dance floor was still rocking. Especially now that Livin’ da Vida Loca hummed through the network of Bluetooth speakers. The coincidence was not lost on Robby, and a chuckle escaped him as he moved out towards the plastic tables where boxes of pizza, both opened and otherwise, waited to be devoured.

Robby politely squeezed between two wasted girls, who both coyly giggled when he got close, and he fist-bumped Little Red who was in the middle of getting his groove on. The atmosphere was warm, inviting and a far cry from the depressing “parties” that Robby tagged along to with Trey and Cruz . Robby felt welcome here, he felt alive here and he never thought he’d find this feeling… in the courtyard of his Dad’s freaking apartment. 

But as Robby approached the pizza boxes and opened up a fresh box of Meatlovers Supreme (With extra pepperoni, from the looks of it. Sweet!), a sound began to echo at the edges of Robby’s hearing. Yelling, but not excitement. Cursing, but no attached laughter. A fight. Robby peered up from the boxes to see, over towards the car park, the sound was emanating from a trio of Miyagi-Do and Eagle Fang students: The big-boned and innately lovable Chris, the diminutive badass Bert and…. What was the other dude’s name again? Everyone just called him Penis Breath. But what were they yelling about?

Robby’s focus trained on the trio and he quickly skirted around the table, advancing on their positions fast. They had their backs to Robby and, with every step he took, it became more crystal-clear that the yelling was sourced from them. But who, and why?

“--told you already, I’m not here to cause any trouble.” A voice barked.

“And I told you I don’t care. You’re not getting to her.” came the booming voice of Chris.

“Then can you at least get her to come out here? I’ll wait if I have to.”

That voice… Was that--?

“We could just make her leave.” decried Penis Breath.

“Touch me and I’ll feed you your own fingers, Shit-Face.”

Yup. There was definitely no mistaking that fiery attitude or that low, defiant and velvety voice.

“Tory?”

At Robby’s call, the trio of boys turned to look at him before quickly parting like the seas to reveal Tory Nichols. Long, wavy blonde hair contrasted sharply with the ambient amber lighting of the apartment complex. Dark denim clung to her legs, and the roaring dragon splashed across her green shirt suited her perfectly, sheltered by an open brown flannel shirt. 

Almost immediately, Robby focused on her face… and he didn’t enjoy what he saw. Wide, hazel eyes displaying unambiguous shock, the tremble of a lower lip and shaky breath escaping flared nostrils. She didn’t just look like she was in trouble. She looked scared.

“Robby.” Tory breathed out, her voice actually shaking . 

“What’s going on?” Robby queried gently.

Tory said nothing at first, swallowing down a lump in her throat, before taking a deep breath.

“I--”

“She’s trying to get in to find Sam.” Chris sharply explained, the accusation in his voice crystal-clear. Sam? Robby darted his lime-green stare to Chris, then quickly back to Tory to see the confirmation written all over her face.

“Sam? Why?” Robby questioned, casually crossing his arms in front of himself.

“Why else? To try to beat the shit out of her again.” Bert accused, to which Tory quickly and defensively shook her head.

“No, that’s not… I just want to talk to her.”

“Yeah, right. Since when do you wanna talk to anyone?”

“Chris, I swear to God…” Tory growled back defiantly.

“Okay, guys, enough!” Robby loudly cut in, glaring daggers at each and every one of them in tandem. 

Chris and Bert quickly folded under Robby’s scrutinizing glare, while Penis Breath tried to speak up and was quickly silenced by what amounted to a “Fuck around and find out” look from Chris. Mercifully, he quickly backed down. Robby snapped his eyes shut and took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. 

“I’ve got this handled, guys. Head back in.” Robby insisted to the others.

“Screw this.”grumbled Bert. “I wanna play more pong. Come on.”

Bert quickly retreated and, with a tap on the shoulder, Chris and Penis Breath quickly fled the scene, back into the foray of oblivious partygoers. Robby watched the trio leave, hearing nothing behind him but the sound of anxious breathing. After just a couple more seconds of waiting, Robby finally took a shuddering breath and turned to face a patient Tory. At least, he thought she was patient at first.

But now that he was staring at her, with nothing to distract him, there was no mistaking it: Tory looked anxious as hell. If this was any other girl, Robby would just assume it was the fact she was at a party full of karate rivals. But this was Tory. She oozed determination, resilience and an unflappable attitude. But something had shaken that and, honestly, it wasn’t just tonight that he’d noticed it. This afternoon, at the Sekai Taikai qualifiers, he’d caught quick glances of her from across the mat. When he wasn’t reflecting on their break-up, on how nice she truly looked when she wasn’t angry or upset, he was worried about her. She looked… off, for lack of a kinder word.

“Sorry about that.” Robby spoke first.

“Don’t worry about it.” Tory predictably shot back. “But… Thanks. For handling it.”

“It’s no problem.” Robby insisted, taking a slow and purposeful step towards her. “But what’s going on?”

Tory let out a ragged sigh, shifting uncomfortably in place and looking off to the side. Teeth grinded on her bottom lip, before she quickly shook her head and immediately met his gaze again.

“I need to talk to Sam. It’s important. Is she here?” Tory insisted.

She is. But there was absolutely no circumstance where Sam wouldn’t be pissed that Tory is here. Besides, if Eli was right, Robby got the sense that Sam would not take too kindly to being interrupted by Tory, of all people. How the hell was he supposed to play this? No. He wasn’t going to lie to her. He wouldn’t.

“She’s here. But why do you want to talk to her?” Robby queried. “And why did you skip out on the qualifiers?”

Again, she shifted uncomfortably and he heard an anxious tapping of runners on concrete. He darted his eyes down to her shifting feet, squinting cautiously, then immediately looked back at her. In the wake of her silence, Robby quickly grew nervous. 

“Is there something going on with your Mom?” Robby queried.

“Huh?” Tory perked up, before immediately shaking her head. “No, no, no. Well… No more than usual. It’s not about that. It’s just…”

Tory let out a low growl and quickly ran a hand through her hair. Her expression depicted an internal debate raging inside of Tory, one Robby daren’t interrupt but he quickly grew invested in. Tory was acting, to put it bluntly, completely weird. No matter their issues, no matter the fact they were broken up, Robby couldn’t just ignore this. Something was going on with her and he knew, sadly, he was the only one willing to find out what.

“I need to come clean to her. About the All-Valley.” Tory blurted out.

“The All-Valley?” Robby repeated, with a confused squint. “What abo--”

“I lost, Robby!” Tory cried out. “LaRusso won, I lost.”

…What?

“Tory…” Robby cautioned, taking another step forward. “That doesn’t make sense. Cobra Kai--”

“Won because Silver paid off the referee.” Tory shot in. 

There was no mistaking the anguish, the fear, written all over Tory’s face that echoed in his heart with every second he looked back at her. Was she serious? Of course she was. Tory would never act like this for the sake of a cheap gambit. In his heart of hearts, he knew she was telling the truth.

“Silver bribed the referee so that Cobra Kai would win! I saw it with my own eyes. It was rigged, the whole thing was bullshit from the start, and he used me to make sure Cobra Kai won.”

Which means the shutting down of Miyagi-Do, of his Dad’s dojo Eagle Fang, was all bullshit. Cobra Kai’s expansion across the Valley, all of the students they’d cultivated since the tournament and now their admission into the Sekai Taikai. It was all built on a lie.

“The sick bastard tried to do it again.” Tory continued in the face of Robby’s abject shock. “The ref at the qualifiers? Silver bribed him too, I know it. That’s why I didn’t show. That’s why I didn’t fight LaRusso. I couldn’t do it again, Robby.”

Robby knew, from the way he watched Kenny devolve under Silver’s wing, that Silver was a vicious snake. But this… He had no idea. Robby stared back at Tory, whose hazel eyes were slowly glazing over with a thin veneer of tears, and he took a ragged breath.

“Kreese and I. We’ve been trying to take down Silver from the inside, but nothing’s worked. And now Kreese is giving up and I-- I don’t know where else to go, Robby.”

Kreese? Robby squinted warily and looked at Tory with scrutiny. She put her faith in Kreese?

“You’ve been working with Kreese?” Robby questioned, and Tory took a step forward, quickly reaching forward. A shockingly soft, slender hand clasped onto Robby’s hand desperately, begging him to hear her out. 

Against his better judgment, he would. But he couldn’t hide the disappointment across his face, the disdain for Tory making the exact same mistake he had made: Putting his trust in Kreese, trying to play Kreese and use him for his own ends, only to realize too late how poisonous that man truly was.

“Yes. It’s why I couldn’t leave. And I know I lied, I know you’re pissed, and I’m so sorry.”

Her grip on his hand was tight, her knuckles glowing white from the strain, and Robby couldn’t ignore just how… desperate she sounded. It was such a contrast, such an inversion, of the steel demeanor he’d grown to know, and care for, during his tenure at Cobra Kai. She stepped forward again, the tips of their shoes practically touching, and Tory anxiously swallowed down air again. 

“Please.” Tory implored, the shakiest word he’d ever heard escape her mouth. “Where’s Sam?”

Slowly, almost fearfully, Robby threaded his fingers between Tory’s and stared down at her. Tory’s gaze betrayed a hint of surprise as beautiful hazel eyes darted down to their exchange, before hurriedly rushing back to meet his attention. Robby took a deep breath, looking aside for a second, before spilling. 

“Sam’s here, but she’s… busy with Miguel.” Robby bluntly surmised. “I don’t know whether she’ll come out to see you, even if I ask.”

Tory let out a sharp breath, and shook her head irritably.

“Damn it, I don’t care what she and Miguel are up to. I’m asking for a chat, not a blood donation.” Tory growled.

“I know, I know.” Robby bargained, letting out a little sigh. “Just let me talk to her first, okay?”

Tory’s expression reeked of dissatisfaction, and she steadily separated the grip between them, looking at her hand before hurriedly and awkwardly withdrawing it from Robby’s proximity. She took a step back, and stared at Robby pleadingly for another moment. He threatened to crumble underneath her stare, but remained resolute. After a moment’s silence, she nodded.

“Don’t take too long.” Tory pleaded. 

Robby silently nodded back to her and, with determination plastered on his face, he marched back into the party. He maneuvered around hollering partygoers and an absolutely wasted Nate and rushed back into the Diaz household. The Monopoly game had, by now, wrapped up and the living room had become a big hub of conversation once again. He spotted Eli and Demetri on the main couch, out of the corner of his eye, diverting their attention but Robby showed no reciprocation. He marched down the hallway, the music outside starting to dim, and took a deep breath. What was it Miguel said? “First door on the right”?

Robby made it to the door in question, listened for just a second for signs of life, then knocked at the door.

“So what do you think? What do you want?”

“I want these stupid fucking jeans gone.”

Driven by instinct and the adrenaline pumping through his veins, Miguel acted fast.

One hand found a fistful of hair, fingers threading through brunette locks, while another clutched at the small of her back. Cherry dominated the press of their lips, until he broke through the sanctuary of her lips and could truly taste her on the tip of his tongue. The smell of her exotic perfume blended perfectly with his aftershave, coalescing into a scent that drove him insane. A shallow moan escaped Sam’s lips, and he almost lost control. In this position, it would be so damn easy to flip her onto her back, hike up that beautiful dress, and fulfill every fantasy that erupted from her gorgeous mouth. But he had to do this right. If this wasn’t comfortable, safe and memorable for her, then it shouldn’t happen. He wouldn’t rush this.

But fuck , his restraint was wearing thin. So too was Sam’s. 

Warm, slender hands clawed at his bare chest, a shockwave of heat emanating from his heart, and his back met gentle linen as Sam pushed him down with zero resistance. She squirmed on top of him, warm and beautiful in every way a girl could be, and Miguel found himself falling for her all over again. He would be a fool to pretend that he hadn’t thought about this before. Maybe not during their first relationship, they were both quite innocent and Miguel was still getting used to the whole… “Having a girlfriend” thing.

But after last Summer, after finding each other again, Miguel’s mind had wandered on more than one occasion. He’d pictured them in the heat of an intense sparring match, pinning her to the ground and steadily disrobing her of her gi. Pictured her legs wrapped around his hips, her lips posted by his ear, mewling his name. What she’d look like when she came. But of course he never acted on those desires, keeping himself in check around her.

Miguel was jolted from his train of thought by a cataclysmic heat as Sam’s slender hands meticulously massaged down his chest and sensually glided to the fly of his jeans. A warm, caressing touch that set off bombs in the back of his brain. With great courage, he snapped his attention away from her hands and found himself drowning in shimmering, mesmerizing orbs of ocean-blue. Rows of pearly teeth signaling an exhilarated, loving smile and shades of pink dotting her cheeks. She perked up an eyebrow in silent query, and Miguel’s lips curled upwards.

He loved this girl, more than he could describe in a short conversation. So he’d just have to settle for whispering it in her ear. Again, and again, and again. 

Slender hands unhooked the copper button of his jeans, and Miguel braced himself at the sound of his zipper descending.

The first thing Miguel felt was sheer relief from the excruciating pressure that’d settled between his legs, his rigid erection grinding helplessly against a denim wall that simply wouldn’t budge. He was still hidden beneath the obscuring fabric of tight black briefs but, as Sam pulled apart the front flaps and gazed down at her prize, Miguel’s excitement was more than evident. Through the thin fabric, she could see his size, length, definition and Miguel observed teeth grinding against her bottom lip, her eyes squinting contemplatively.

At first, she said nothing. She didn’t need to: The way her eyes snapped to meet his, and the joyous smile that broke across her face, said plenty. Clutching to denim, Sam scooted back and gradually removed herself from both Miguel and the bed itself, taking his jeans with her. She tossed them to the little pile forming on the floor and steadily backed up to the center of the room. With a wry smile and a fire behind her addictive stare, she coiled a finger towards herself and Miguel fell under the sway of her song in a hummingbird’s heartbeat.

Miguel excitably swung his weight over the side of the bed, sitting up on the edge. But just when he tried to push himself off and join her, Sam raised an open palm and halted him in his tracks. Her lips split to reveal those beautiful, pearly teeth and her eyes shimmered with excitement.

“Show me.” 

The way she uttered her simple command was so sweet, so casual, yet reinforced by a captivating spark in her eyes that hypnotized and enthralled him. Any nervousness, trepidation, that should be present was not. Emboldened, and without the utterance of another word, Miguel hooked his thumbs into the elastic lining of his underwear and pulled them down. That excruciating pressure finally evaporated, relief washed over him in totality, and Miguel couldn’t help but let out a low sigh of pleasure as he discarded the underwear with the same spontaneity you’d discard litter. 

He was 6 inches, uncircumcised and solid as stone, with a flared tip that already shimmered with liquidity. And it was all hers.

Leaning slightly back to puff out his bare and sweaty chest, Miguel watched as his girlfriend tried her damnedest to restrain her reaction, even as a bright-red glow filtered across her face and a cute little gasp escaped her glossy lips. But there was no hiding from the electricity in the air, the sparks of heat and life that Miguel felt tethering him to Samantha LaRusso, like an invisible string tying them together.

It was his turn to be the tease. Miguel drifted a single hand down between his legs and very gently palmed his cock, heavy and full, staring up at his girlfriend the entire time. He waited until Sam’s eyes drifted down, those beautiful oceanic eyes widening like dinner plates, before he curled his fingers around his cock and very slowly stroked along it from base to tip. As he did, he reached up his other hand to point at Sam’s bewildered expression and coiled a finger towards himself, beckoning her back to him. He needed her, and he made sure she knew it.

Just as Sam’s call had hypnotized him before, Sam approached Miguel both in silence and with purpose, her skin glowing like a beetroot now as she unabashedly watched him. He didn’t pause, didn’t slow down the performance he was putting on for her. He gripped onto his cock nice and tight, running his hand up and down and sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through his body and searing through his mind. He pictured her on top of him, wearing nothing but that toothy grin, engulfing him with every roll of her hips and moaning his name. She finally reached him, her stomach level with him, and he had to crane his head up to meet her stare. His chocolate eyes, half-lidded with pleasure, matched with hers and he let out a low and ragged breath. 

“Sam.” Miguel groaned out, hoping to provoke her.

But it never occurred. Sam just peered down at him, shamelessly surveilling him with a warm and loving stare, and her lips curled into a crescent that sent his heart jackhammering against his chest. She reached forward and grasped onto the forearm of the… “busy hand” and gently tugged, signaling him to stop. She took control of both of his hands and guided him to rest them at his sides, his arms like support beams holding him up.

“Sam?” Miguel queried, the nervousness biting at his tone. 

But Sam shut him up by gently cupping his face with her hands, thumbs stroking against his cheeks, before leaning in and pressing her lips to capture the breath that escaped him. She let out a thrilling, quiet moan and Miguel had to resist moving his hands, surmising Sam wanted them there for a reason. 

He was right. Sam began to sink, intentionally buckling under her own weight, and Miguel found their sensual exchange steadily dragged down until they were at eye level with one another once more. She kissed him for a moment longer, grazing her tongue across his mouth, before departing from him. But as Sam’s lips separated from his own, the shifting of her body continued. She sank down onto one knee, as if proposing, and now found herself level with his collarbone. 

She peppered his abs and collarbone with quick and lively pecks, reserving deeper kisses for his budding nipples. She would gently slide her tongue along them, crumbling his resolve by the second. But she wasn’t done. She sank further, trailing her tongue down the center of his abs. What was she up to?

She sank one more time, now firmly on both knees, and Miguel finally got the memo. 

Was she serious?

Sam stared down between his legs for a moment, before tilting her head up… and making it very clear just how serious she was. Her cerulean gaze was soft and pleading, her lips trembling with every shallow breath she took and her cheeks could practically glow in the dark with a pink hue. Her hands grasped onto his thighs, nails gripping but not digging into his skin, and she quietly examined his features. No doubt she saw the nervousness, the trepidation, on his face. But it wasn’t him he was nervous for. It…

“I want to, but only if you say Yes.” Sam whispered knowingly, her voice like a sword plunged into the heart of his doubt. “If not? …It can wait.”

Sam LaRusso, the girl of his dreams and his very first love, was asking for permission to--? Miguel let out a shaky breath, the shock threatening to overwhelm and displace him. But his heart didn’t waver. He took a deep breath, collected his composure, and smiled down at her with approval and veiled excitement. In return, she flashed him the sweetest of toothy smiles and let out a shockingly fluffy giggle.

“I know. I’m not the type.” Sam admitted, looking off to the side. “Honestly, I thought Kyler would’ve ruined the idea for me forever.”

Kyler? …Right. That disgusting-ass rumor he once spread about Sam. Fallout from their break-up, so Sam had told him. How could he have forgotten about that transgression?

“But it’s okay.” Sam encouraged, looking back at him with that beautiful smile. “Because you’re not him. You’ve never been anything like him, and it’s not going to start now.”

Miguel tilted his head down, conceding to her point. She knew, of course she knew, that there would be a doubt nestled in the back of his mind. But she was right: He’d never been Kyler and he’d never treated Sam the way that piece of shit treated her. He remembered… He remembered sitting across from them at the cafeteria, wishing Sam looked at him the way she would look over at Kyler. How time flies, huh?

He looked back at Sam, a gentle and affirming smirk on his lips, and softly ran a hand along her hair.

“You’re right. …And my answer’s Yes.”

What came next was beyond Miguel’s expectations. He’d never experienced this before, never even heard it described to him, he didn’t know what to expect or what he was supposed to expect. But when Sam’s face lit up from his confirmation, and she settled between his legs, he didn’t think anything could overpower the sensation of his heart hammering against his chest. Oh, how wrong he was…

Sam dipped her head between his thighs, and slowly pressed her lips to the tip of his cock, her tongue sliding against his slit. Every nerve in his body exploded at the same time and Miguel tilted his head back, a low and guttural sound escaping from deep in his throat. Sam looked up at the sound, a girlish satisfaction solidified in her glance, before she pressed the advantage and wrapped her lips around him completely, slowly beginning to suck..

Miguel could only watch for a couple of seconds before he had to shut his eyes, the pleasure overwhelming him. She was slow, explorative and obviously inexperienced, not taking more than half of him into her mouth and taking her sweet time with every single movement. Yet he’d never felt better, more alive, and what he drew pleasure from the most, without question… was the way her mouth hummed around him when she let out a low, muffled moan. 

Sam was giving him a blowjob, and that was unbelievable enough. But far more importantly: Sam was enjoying giving him a blowjob. That mattered, and it was so… perfect.

“Sa-- Sam. Sam.” Miguel murmured out, every utterance of her word a low moan. 

His hand reached up to grip gently at her hair, a silent encouragement, and fingers massaged through her beautiful locks. Normally, he’d feel bad about potentially ruining her lovely hair-do. But not tonight. Not… Not fucking tonight. He tried to keep himself as quiet as possible, with the music and party goers thumping around outside. But Holy Fuck, was it a losing battle. Another restrained moan from Sam sent a vibration shooting through the staggering heat of his wet cock, threatening to make him cum then and there.

But he couldn’t, not yet. He… Shit, he couldn’t. Not yet.

“Sam.” Miguel officially cautioned, gasping in pleasure and looking down at his girl.

Slowly, her eyes pressed shut, Sam made one last long suction down his cock and Miguel’s restraint was really put to the test before she completely withdrew with a wet pop. Miguel angled himself away from her face, just in case, and found that a thin trail of saliva was still stubbornly connecting him to her. Hot breath splashed against him as Sam unleashed a ragged gasp for air, with low and shallow breaths quickly following, and Miguel almost came just from the sight of her licking her lips to dispel the trail.

“Fuck...” Sam moaned in a tone he’d never heard before, spawning goosebumps on Miguel’s arm. Another deep breath, as her beautiful ocean eyes peeled open and flicked up to meet him.

“It’s okay, I don’t want this to be over yet either.” Sam cooed, before her glossy lips split into a toothy smile. “But that… Was that okay?”

Miguel actually scoffed at her question, thinking the answer obvious as day, until she looked up at him with a genuinely pleading stare, earnestly seeking feedback on her accomplishment. 

Okay? Okay?

“Babe.” Miguel groaned out, taking a deep breath as he moved his hand from her hair to the crest of her chin, tilting her head up to make eye contact. “That wasn’t just okay. That was awesome .”

Sam’s face lit up with pride.

“You think so?” Sam whispered.

“Know so. That was so good.” Miguel praised emphatically, making Sam blush like they’d gone back to their first date. She looked aside, tucking a loose strand behind her hair, and sighed in appreciation.

Miguel shifted on his perched position on the bed to sit up straight and used both of his hands to clutch onto Sam’s forearms. He gently tugged her up, taking a moment to look down at his wet dick graced by her pleasure, and directed her to stand up. Now, again, he was level with her stomach and Sam looked down at him with glee. She said nothing, just peered at him curiously, silently inquiring as to his direction. The answer was simple really. But first, there was one big obstacle in the way. An obstacle that was gorgeous, suited her perfectly and enthralled him the moment he saw it, but still an obstacle.

“Now how do I take this dress off?” Miguel queried playfully.

Sam’s cheeks may have gone crimson, but they didn’t light up nearly as much as her smile did. She looked at him with unbridled glee, like Miguel had inadvertently passed a test he didn’t know existed, and Sam immediately sprang into action. Her hands moved to the big knotted bundle resting at the waistline of her dress and got to work undoing a, quite frankly, ludicrous bundle of knots. With each one she did, the dress grew looser and clung to her body less. 

As he leaned back and watched her, Miguel again couldn’t help himself and ran his hand along his shaft, stroking himself once… before gasping and very quickly realizing that he literally couldn’t do that anymore, lest he spill into his hand and disappoint the both of them. Damn his virginity and inexperience. He was already so close, and Sam wasn’t even undressed yet.

He could do this. It would be alright. He could do this. It would be alright.

“Look at me.” Sam commanded sweetly, and Miguel trailed his hungry gaze back to her face in time for her to pull off the ruffled shoulder straps of her dress, slip her arms through like a spy maneuvering through a laser maze, and pull the dress up and over her head.

Behind Sam’s stylish wardrobe was a figure Miguel had shamefully fantasized about in his head time and time again. A tight, toned stomach that portrayed the faintest hints of abs, payoff from her vigorous workouts in Miyagi-Do. Long, slender arms that portrayed the strength Miguel knew laid beneath them. Her legs were simply freaking spectacular, her thighs toned yet graceful like a true martial artist. Some of this he’d already seen, often accentuated by her stylish outfits or, not to toot his own horn, the golden necklace still wrapped around her neck.

But the white lace bra and floral panties Sam was wearing now? That was new.

Miguel leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to her bellybutton that snapped muscle taut and provoked a sweet giggle, music to his ears. He trailed kisses slowly up her stomach, paying particular attention to the definition of her muscles, and steadily rose from the bed as he went. He graced her stomach, her cleavage, her collarbone, her neck and finally a tender kiss on her lips. Those lips were his addiction, his vice, and he would never let them go. Sam’s arms curled around him, hands splayed across his bare back with nails voraciously digging into his skin, and their kiss quickly grew primal and passionate. Their tongues played an intricate game of tag, while Miguel coiled his arms around her and pulled her closer into his embrace. But it wasn’t until his erection grazed between her legs that the game truly began.

A soft, sensual moan erupted from Sam’s lips, and Miguel’s heart and mind tumbled in turn. He wasn’t quite sure who directed who, but he soon heard the faintest of thuds and realized, in the heat of the moment, Miguel now had Sam pressed up against the space of wall between his desk and his bed. Normally, this would be the part where he gave her one final kiss and then backed off. 

But not tonight. This meant too much to both of them for him to back down now.

His hands pressed firmly against the flat of her stomach, fully pressing her against the wall, and he finally separated their kiss to examine her. Both of them were sweaty, breathless, he was completely naked and she was getting damn close to it. With her clothes dispersed, he could smell her perfume and honey-scented shampoo in even clearer clarity than before. They were almost to the point of no return and a maelstrom of emotions swirled around in Miguel’s mind. Nervousness, worry, exhilaration, ecstasy, fear of the unknown, fear of failure… and just plain desire to feel what it was like to be inside the girl he loved with all of his heart.

But above all else: Duty. Duty to give her a night to remember, duty to treat this smart and beautiful, hilarious and totally badass girl the way she was due. Duty to give her a first time she can look back on and smile. That was all he needed. If he could accomplish that, he would be satisfied.

“You’re so beautiful, Sam.” Miguel shuddered. It was stating the obvious, but she needed to hear it.

“Well, that’s classier than what I was going to say.” Sam whispered, punctuating it with a wry giggle. 

“Say it anyway.” Miguel teased and shuddered in delight as Sam hovered her lips close to his, that addictive and mischievous fire in her eyes once again before she snapped them shut, obscuring it. 

She let out a gentle moan, splashing heat against his lips and sending a shiver down his spine. Her silky hands clutched at his, taking control and steering them to massage down her body. His hands trailed down her stomach delighting in every buzz, passed her bellybutton, until they came into contact with floral cotton.

“You’re so damn hot. I want you more than ever before, and I need-- I need--”

“I need you inside me.”

Fuck. Those words. His hard cock twitched with heat and anticipation, his body aching with hunger and excitement, and his ears were ringing and burning from the devastating lust behind Sam’s words. He could indulge her here and now, finally stop all of this foreplay and take her the way that she deserves. He had every intention too. But first…

“Hmm.” Miguel hummed contemplatively. “That’s weird.”

“Huh?” Sam perked up, her expression twisting in confusion. “What’s weird?”

But Miguel just smirked and gently moved his head to align with her left earlobe, grinding his teeth on it and groaning directly into her ear. Instinctually, her hands were like vices gripping against his own and he felt the heat cascade all throughout her.

“It’s just… I don’t think I heard you.” Miguel teased. “Must’ve been the music.”

“Miguel…” Sam whined, but Miguel just clicked his tongue in faux-admonishment.

“Repeat it, babe.” Miguel implored, pressing his lips to her ear and running both of their hands along her bellybutton. Sam gasped, her air of superiority crumbling apart at the seams, and Miguel pressed the advantage.

“I-- I--”

“ Me quieres dentro de ti, mi señorita. (You want me inside you, my lady.) ” Miguel growled, low and sensual and full of every drop of desire he held in his heart.

“Yes.” Sam mewled in his ear. Their hands drifted to the elastic straps of her pretty floral panties.

“ Te vas a sentir muy bien, cariño. (You’re going to feel so good, baby.)” Miguel whispered supportively. “ Gime por mí, mi amor. (Moan for me, my love.)”

Sam’s breath brushed against his right ear again, delivering a low and hungry moan that had Miguel gasp in delight. Her hands rushed away from his own and moved directly to his ass, taking it in her splayed palms and digging her fingernails in which evoked a grunt of pain and pleasure to escape Miguel’s pressed lips.

“You win.” Sam whispered, an edge of delight in her tone. “I didn’t think--”

A giggle, soft and fluffy, erupted from her. Amazing how sweet and innocent she sounded even now, even under this context.

“I didn’t expect you to be such a tease.” Sam whispered. “I thought you’d just flip me onto your bed, and this would be over so fast. But no… You want to make this agonizing.”

Guilty as charged.

“This is our first time.” Miguel admitted seriously, dropping the seductive tone for the moment. “I want this… I want this to be special for you. Not 5 minutes of mediocrity you come to regret a year later. Y’know?”

A contemplative hum signaled Sam’s retreat, willingly pressing herself back up against the wall and settling them almost nose-to-nose. His sight was engulfed by the tantalizing desire and understanding of piercing cerulean eyes. Her lips were curled in contemplation, her expression serious and her gaze understanding.

“”I know.” Sam whispered. “You’re a gentleman, you always have been.”

Miguel opened his mouth to voice his appreciation… but nothing but a strangled groan escaped him when he felt that a boiling hot presence, that wasn’t his own, coiled tender fingers around the shaft of his cock and gently stroked along it. Fingers daintily tracing along the throbbing veins of his dick, playfully yet meticulously.

“But right now…” Sam continued, her voice and stare the sexiest he’d ever seen. “I need that gentleman to take a break. Come back later.”

She rubbed him up and down with long, purposeful strides that sent a shockwave catapulting through his nervous system with every pump. Miguel couldn’t help himself anymore, the desire to match her beauty and her raw hunger too much to handle. His thumbs hooked around the elastic strands of her panties and pulled down, only a little tug required before gravity did the rest and they dropped to her knees.

When he first trailed his index finger along the pink folds of her pussy, the first thing Miguel noticed beyond Sam’s shuddering gasp was just how wet she was. She twitched and shuddered under his touch, his finger slick and imbued with her in seconds, and Miguel dangerously added a second finger to the fray. Sam was trying so hard not to be too loud, biting her lip and muffling her cries and mewls against the sanctuary of his bare shoulder. But this was definitely the loudest she’d been and, at this point, Miguel wasn’t sure if he cared about the others hearing. It wouldn’t change that this was happening, just as it wouldn’t change that he was hers and proud of it.

Now… If he remembered Sex Ed and diagrams he’d seen, it should be right… around… Here.

A small bundle of fleshy nerves, almost like a button, that rested right under the focal point of her labia. All it took was an index finger gliding across it, and Sam’s mask crumbled. Her hand fled from his cock at the speed of sound, her head leaning against his shoulder to exude a muffled moan against him, and he felt both warm hands clutch vigorously to his ass. Every sound she made jackhammered his heart against his chest, flooding him with resolve and unbridled triumph. She was damp beneath his fingers and her resistance was long-shattered, with his joining her in crumbled pieces on the floor. The stage was set, almost everything was as it should be, and he would remedy that very shortly. 

Reaching up his free arm to caress down her hair, Miguel soothingly shushed her and again leaned his lips up to her ear.

“I’m ready, babe. Are you?”

She nodded against his shoulder, nothing but pants escaping her with her face hidden from sight, and Miguel couldn’t help but laugh warmly, seductively.

“I need to hear you say it.”

Sam’s answer was ferocious and swift. In one fluid movement, Sam pulled herself back from Miguel and again pressed herself against the cold beige wall of his bedroom, while simultaneously tugging on Miguel’s ass with a fervent grip to make him close the distance. He had her effectively pinned to the wall, his arms dislodged from their positions to rest at his sides. The tip of his dick caressed against her arousal, and the ache skyrocketed beyond control. Her hands dislodged from his ass and coiled themselves out from Miguel’s protective, but restrictive, embrace. There was absolutely no understating the enrapturing desire nestled in her gaze, the beads of sweat rolling down her beautiful neckline, or the frantic and hot breaths that escaped her lips, twisted in a determination he’d last seen when she fought Devon Lee.

She didn’t make a sound, didn’t so much as blink, as those slender hands reached behind her and unclipped that beautiful lace bra, letting it drop to the floor with somehow even less dignity than everything else to come before. The last piece of the puzzle was complete. Full, round, gorgeous breasts peaked by the sweetest and pinkest nipples he could’ve conjured in his mind. Somehow, his dick grew even harder at the full sight of her and he can’t hold back the appreciative groan that erupts from deep within. 

Sam coyly perks an eyebrow up and Miguel makes his move. His hands latch onto her hips like vices, her arms wrap around his neck with splayed fingers digging into the back of his scalp, and he quickly closes the distance. Pressed up against her entrance, drenched in her pleasure, just waiting for her to utter the words. Their eyes lock, their breath escapes in synchronicity and the tension that emerged could be cut with a butter knife.

Finally, Sam opened her mouth… and Miguel’s heart erupted in a symphony.

“I’m ready.”

His hips buck to meet her, his stomach presses against hers, and he slides into her inch by precious inch.

It was like he’d been the first victim of a tsunami. Blissfully unaware, inexperienced and ignorant only to have a titanic wave crash down upon him and overwhelm him without even the faintest chance of resistance. The euphoria, the sheer perfection, that cascaded into his mind made every second of sexual exploration he’d done up to that point feel like nothing by comparison. She was warm, tighter than he ever could’ve anticipated, soaking wet with desire and utterly beautiful. Contractions inside pulled him deeper inside and whatever sound had hoped to escape Sam was lodged helplessly in her throat.

Fingernails dug into the back of his neck in an agonizing, yet exquisite, jolt of pain and Sam quivered against him, her mouth twisted in a scream that never came. Her head tilted up in sheer supplication, teeth grinding on her lip, and her eyes were sealed shut in an exquisite display of pleasure that seared itself into Miguel’s memory. But she left herself vulnerable. Miguel scooped forward and pressed his lips to her exposed neck, tracing precious pecks of affection along the golden chain that now adorned her gorgeous neck. With what little noise she was making, Sam was fighting with all of her strength not to give in and somehow, somehow, she was winning. But he shouldn’t be surprised.

His girl was unstoppable.

“Are you okay?” Miguel whispered against her neck as he fully sank into her, muffling a sharp groan against her cherished skin as another tsunami of pleasure swept him up and helplessly tossed him around for her entertainment.

For more than a couple of moments, Sam said nothing. What noises escaped her were shockingly brief, frantic and shaking breaths that portrayed nothing short of euphonious satisfaction. Until finally…

“Talk to me.” were the first words out of her mouth, breathy and demanding yet sweet all around.

“Huh?” Miguel couldn’t help but query, the irony not lost on him that his girlfriend was being a verbal puzzle box right now.

“Talk to me… the way you were before.” Sam mewled, begged , in a pitch that actually sparked caution in Miguel’s mind. Someone could’ve heard that, and it was clear Sam was past the point of giving a shit.

The way he was before, huh? Miguel’s lips curled into a wry smirk and he let out the faintest of chuckles against her neck. He could do that. Miguel leaned back from Sam’s precious neck, allowing her head to finally dip down and for their eyes to meet. Her eyes were glassy, glazed over with euphoria, and betrayed the exact same love and exhilaration he remembered from all of those nights ago: Pinned beneath her on the grass of Golf n’ Stuff, right before their very first kiss. It was the exact same look, and Miguel found it fitting.

He leaned his forehead against hers, the tips of their noses touching, and clutched at her hips with security and safety. He very slowly withdrew from the sanctity of her pussy, shocked at just how cold and deprived he immediately felt. But it didn’t matter.

What else could he say, except what he'd wanted to tell her long before tonight? Long before their break-up, the trip to Mexico, the All-Valley or even Prom…

“I love you, Samantha LaRusso.” Miguel whispered, confessed for the second time tonight.

He pressed his hips forward and slid into her again, evaporating any response she had planned from her mind. She let out a loud gasp, confirming his suspicions, and Miguel focused through the haze of pleasure and beautiful warmth to gently kiss her on the nose.

“Shhhh.” Miguel cooed, before ducking down and pressing his lips to her. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

She nodded desperately, her eyes sealed shut and her legs quivering, as Miguel began to slowly thrust. He was slow, achingly methodical and intent on drawing out every movement. He knew he didn’t have long, that this would be over the moment he put his real energy to it, so he would savor what he could. He’d make this worth her while. Now, to fulfill his girl’s command.

She was so fucking warm inside. You’d think it was winter and they were curled up beside a nice yuletide fireplace. But no, this was her. Each time, he would withdraw just to the point of entry and then plunge back into her, sending sizzles down his spine and stars exploding in his mind.

Another grunt of pain escaped him as fingernails digging into skin began caressing down his spine and clutching at the muscle of his bare back, like he was her only lifeboat in a raging storm of euphoria. They remained forehead-to-forehead, nose to nose, as Miguel took a risk and picked up pace.

“Miguel…” Sam whined in a beautiful voice, her eyes peeling open just enough to betray her lust through half-lidded curtains. Breaths mingled, his heart jackhammered against her chest, and it was time for him to take things to the next level. 

Using his sheer body weight to keep her comfortably situated against the wall, Miguel slowly dragged his hands up the splendid curvature of her body to travel to the most neglected part of her, by far. They were so splendid, yet he’d paid such little attention to them and it was time he rectified that. His hands cupped gently at her breasts, thumbs grazing against hard nipples, and the sweet sounds that quietly erupted from Sam’s mouth only made him throb inside of her, threatening to draw him past the point of no return. Not yet, he begged. Not yet.

“ Has querido esta noche toda tu vida, haven’t you? (You’ve wanted this night your entire life, haven’t you?)” Miguel cooed, drawing an addicting lust from Sam’s expression. “You’ve wanted me to fuck you like this for so long.”

Sam had never made it a secret she liked his voice, especially when he talked to her in Spanish. But the way she was losing herself in front of him, over such simple sentences, was beyond addicting.

“Yes.” Sam desperately answered. “I never wanted… to give you… Shit-- The wrong idea.”

Sam paused to let out a heavy pant, her eyes snapping down to the attention he gave her budding nipples, her heart thundering beneath the warm embrace of his hands. Miguel leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers again, grazing her lips with his tongue. His mind was beginning to white out, his grinding picking up pace. He was gonna explode soon, and he didn’t know what to do. But there was still time, and-- and-- Shit, what was he thinking?

No. There was no diverting now. The path had been paved and she was so addicting, so beautiful and wonderful, that he couldn’t resist treading down it this early. A sensation was building in the back of his hips, overwhelming and sending lightning strikes throughout his body. He recognized the feeling… but the intensity of it was completely foreign to him. This was it.

“Baby, I’m so close.” Miguel cautioned, pushing up against her and his hands falling to her hips to hold her nice and tight.

“I’m so close, baby.” Miguel continued to coo, peppering her neck with ravenous desire and occasionally dipping down to trail his tongue along her nipples. Her hands quaked and clutched to his back like her life depended on it, and he heard nothing but a chorus of quiet groans.

Until…

“Inside. ”

Had… Had he heard her right?

“What?” Miguel quietly queried, slowing down just so he could hear her properly. But Sam shattered any chance of misinterpretation by hovering her luscious lips right over his ear.

“Inside.” Sam begged. “Inside.”

Miguel’s wood-tinted eyes shot open like dinner plates, the first shocked gasp for a while escaping his puffy, heat-soaked lips. There was absolutely no misinterpreting her command, not the way her pussy clenched around him, not the way she desperately clung to him like he threatened to vanish at any time. Sam was an intelligent girl, and he matched her both in grades and in social awareness. They both knew Sex Ed, which means they both… they both understood the dangers. The risks, right? He wanted this. He did. But-- 

“Sam…” Miguel cautioned, but was quickly silenced by a harsh shush.

“It’s okay, Miguel.” Sam promised succinctly. “I can get morning-after pills, then a more appropriate contraceptive pill… for next time.”

Next time.

Something about those words, or perhaps the sweet and gleeful way she gutturally proclaimed them, sent Miguel over the edge. His resistance crumbled, his doubts faded away, and his heart and mind were filled with one purpose and one objective. He knew it was still a little too soon, for Miguel’s liking, and this wasn’t all he wanted to accomplish during his first time with her. But this wasn’t just about what he wanted. 

This was about the two of them, coming together, and battling against all odds as they’d always done. They wrestled with home invasions, near-collisions with death itself, forces attempting to pull them apart at the seams. But they’d overcome them all, they’d persevere through them all and every bit of heartache, sweat and tears had led to this moment. This wasn’t just about making either of them cum. 

This was a celebration of their story. A celebration of what they’d accomplished, both in the karate world and beyond. 

“I love you.” escaped her lips, and that was all Miguel needed to hear.

Miguel worked a hand behind Sam’s neck and craned her down to hold her at his bare shoulder, so she could muffle every delectable noise and preserve them just for the two of them. Slightly spreading his legs for better traction, spurred by the python’s grip her hands had on his tense back, Miguel acquiesced to her wishes. 

He drilled into her at a significantly ramped up pace, the tip of his dick brushing against a spongy place that had Sam wildly crying and moaning desperately into him, not even the muffling of his shoulder blades enough to fully suppress her pleasure. He used his martial strength and vice-grip on her hips to angle her slightly upwards, providing a better avenue to hit that spot inside her, desperate to drive her up the wall. His breathing grew out of control, and he had to bite his lip down to a painful degree, just to strangle the groan threatening to erupt from him.

“M-- M-- M--” Sam stammered, 

Did she succeed in calling for him? He didn’t know. His vision was blurred, his ears ringing, every inch of his body blazing hot and completely overwhelmed by the feeling of her. Every nerve was bombarded by sensation, like a computer receiving an overflow of data. And it finally, finally, became too much to bear. With one final euphoric groan pressed against her neck, he finally surrendered all control and erupted inside of her. She cooed and moaned into his shoulder, whispering indecipherably, as he filled her up and his cock felt the warmth of a thousand suns. Colors and dots blotted the edges of his vision and his heart felt like it was going to explode out of his chest. 

And as his hand drifted down towards their joining, and his thumb began to draw meticulous little circles across her clitoris, Miguel realized it didn’t matter if they’d not conformed to his “optional scenario”. What mattered, what truly mattered, is that they were happy. That they had each other. This was their love story. They were the architects.

With one final, desperate moan against him, Miguel felt the walls tighten around his dick and silently reveled in Sam’s climax, massaging her and whispering sweet nothings into her ear as she worked through the intense euphoria. He was sure his back was probably bleeding from how hard she’d clutched it. But he didn’t give a fuck.

Sam was still panting, fluids from them both steadily dripping out of her, when he carried her back to his bed. Absolutely covered in sweat, their hair a complete mess, Miguel couldn’t care less as he gently placed her down on the linen, settling side-by-side with her before finally pulling out. 

For what felt like an eternity, all he could do was stare at her.

The brilliant and euphoric shine behind crystalline blue eyes that captured her intellect, her bravery, her kind soul and her lust. Tendrils of loose hair sticking to a sweaty forehead, impossible to ignore evidence of what they’d shared. The way her chest rose and fell, shallow breaths splashing heat across his face and body. 

As the euphoria slowly washed away, and his heart no longer risked leaping from his chest like a Xenomorph, Miguel gathered enough energy to gently tug her towards him. The two curled up together on the bed, her face pressed into his chest and their legs entangled, and simply basked in their presence. He heard loud cheering erupt from outside and, for the first time in what was probably 15-20 minutes, remembered there was a party going on outside. Did they hear them? Did they know? Miguel wasn’t sure… and he didn’t care.

Slowly and tenderly, he massaged a hand down Sam’s hair, trailing his touch down her back and gently massaging areas of her body he’d ravaged. He could already see a mark he’d left on her neck, one she’d no doubt have to hide from Mr and Mrs LaRusso in the morning, and he could start to feel a sting across his back that told him she’d done exactly what he suspected her of doing. But he wouldn’t change a thing about that. Not one second of it.

He curled over her, like a bird sheltering its young, and planted a kiss on the top of her forehead. Sam was silent, her breathing officially steady again, but he could tell she wasn’t asleep. On the days they had taken a nap together, her distinct snore had quickly wormed its way into his memory.

“You were amazing, my lady. Better than me in every way.” Miguel whispered, tone overflowing with sincerity.

“Mmm… Don’t say that.” Sam mewled against his chest, planting the softest of kisses on his left pec. Miguel just smirked cockily.

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” Miguel teasingly whispered. “Estuviste increíble, Señorita. (You were amazing, my lady.)”

Sam giggled and hummed against his chest, proccing a warm chuckle to leave him in turn. Her hands clutched at his chest gently, massaging and surveying, and she steadily craned her head up to look at him. Her cheeks were dotted ever so slightly with wetness, but not from sorrow. She was still sweaty, overheated, but had that innate elegance and sweetness to her demeanor again that was so abundantly Sam LaRusso.

A thin smile crescented across her face and her eyes shimmered.

“Part of me always knew it was going to be you.” Sam wistfully murmured, shifting just a little closer to him.

“Really?” Miguel queried. She nodded emphatically.

“If you asked me to explain it, I honestly couldn’t tell you. But from the moment we first started dating, there was just something about me that… knew. Y’know? I don’t know, that probably sounds crazy… and silly.” Sam explained, laughing it off and fidgeting with her slender fingers. But Miguel just peeked down and kissed her on the forehead.

“Not crazy.” Miguel whispered plainly, smiling down at her. “But thank you. That.. and all of this, tonight, means a lot to me.”

Sam let out another sweet, breathy giggle that was still riddled with exhaustion and euphoria. She shifted to look up at him again, her smirk widening and splitting apart to reveal rows of pearly teeth, and whispered back in a soft tone that sliced into his heart like a shard of glass.

“It’s what you do when you love someone, right?”

Touché, Samantha LaRusso. Touché.

Another loud cheer from outside, this time fully capturing Sam’s attention.

“We should probably get dressed, huh?” Sam whispered. “Before someone barges in on this?”

“Yup.” Miguel concurred. “Eli would never let us hear the end of it.”

“Never.” Sam repeated, with a giggle. 

Their instincts were correct. Sam had just barely gotten her dress back on, more askew and loose fitted on her than before, while Miguel had only made it into his underwear and jeans before there was an emphatic rap on the door. Three hard knocks that rumbled like cymbals in his heart.

“Coming.” Miguel called. He quickly snatched up his shirt, not bothering with the flannel overlay, and slipped it on as he traveled to the door. He pulled open the door just enough to reveal the shadow-cast visage of Robby Keene.

“Hey, Robby.” Miguel answered, composing himself superbly or so he thought. Robby’s lime-green eyes narrowly observed him, his expression frighteningly serious, before he cleared his throat and looked aside.

“Uhh, is Sam still in there?” Robby very awkwardly questioned.

“I’m here.” Sam called from behind Miguel. “What’s up?”

Miguel pulled open the door completely, to fully reveal Robby and bask him in the lamplight. Which Miguel quickly came to realize… was a mistake. Robby’s piercing lime-green eyes darted back and forth between them, back and forth, with a scrutiny that cut through Miguel’s defenses like a hot blade through room-temp butter. But it was only when Robby’s eyes shot to the flannel shirt and handbag still laying discarded on the floor, that Miguel truly began to panic. Robby snapped his eyes to Miguel, shot him a disastrously knowing look, and Miguel’s heart completely sank. 

“Uh huh...” Robby deadpanned, blinking several times before fixating on Sam. “Sam, I need to talk to you outside.”

“R--Robby, I can--”

“Not. About…..This.” Robby practically groaned out, nervously running a hand through his hair. “Though I don’t know whether to say congratulations or crawl into a hole forever and die.”

Miguel swiftly considered the latter. 

At least until he heard Robby’s real reasons. Until he heard Tory’s name.

Learning the truth behind Terry Silver, the All-Valley Tournament and Cobra Kai’s true corruption, right from Tory’s lips, was a shattering revelation that resonated with every member of Eagle Fang and Miyagi-Do, Sam most of all. Everything was built on a foundation of lies, corruption and sickening backroom deals that Terry Silver had no doubt mastered over the decades. He hurt his Sensei. He hurt Mr LaRusso. Sam, Tory, Robby, Eli, so many people twisted and hurt and corrupted by this viper of a man. He was a poison seeping into the heart of the Valley itself and Miguel almost missed the days of Kyler in the cafeteria, Xander Stone swinging a foot for his face. It felt so miniscule, so… nothing, compared to the magnitude of the threat that Silver and Cobra Kai posed.

But there was something that Sensei Toguchi was right about: Their movement was only an inch wide, but a mile deep. If anyone was going to stop Silver for good, it was them.

They had Robby.

They had Eli.

And he had Sam.

They had each other, and there was nothing Silver could do to take that away from them. Nothing he could do to steal the night away from them. They were ready.