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guilt and grief chokes the air out of the cabin that sam had bunkered down in since he, dean and cas had ganked dick roman. all signs of life are suffocated by the emotions of the lone man living there.
silence echoes off the four walls, until sam slams the door of the ‘67 impala outside, the force of it almost shaking the quaint, but messy, cabin.
the next sound that resonates through the wooden foundation of sam's place is a rough groan leaving his throat, and a coupling of heavy breathing. the door is swiftly unlocked, and sam and you collapse into the house, your arms around the back of his neck and his wrapped around your waist, keeping you steady.
you break apart for a moment, your cheeks hot and skin flaming with desire.
“don't mind the...” sam clears his throat anxiously, like always. “the state of the place.”
in all honesty, the place isn't that unclean. it's a bit untidy in some places, and filled with evident signs of grief – after all, his whole family is dead, and sam has failed.
the worst part? he can't bring himself to look for dean. he wants to, hell, he even had dreams about looking for dean, but sam knows he'll spiral if he does.
the shame eats him alive. so he smothers it with lust and pleasure instead.
you're a local to the town not far from sam's cabin. you've lived there almost your whole life, your hometown very close and special to your heart. and you've slept together a couple times, now, but exclusively at your place. if sam had *known* the two of you were gonna sleep together tonight, he might've made an effort to clean. however, your car getting a flat tire on a long stretch of road and a desperate phone call later, you ended up at the closest house – his.
“it's not bad.” you say, looking around. you understand what sam is going through, even it the details are sometimes... vague. you know his brother had recently died, leaving him the lone survivor in his family after his dad's death almost ten years ago, and his mom's death when he was just a baby.
and you also know that he and his brother were close. so what's a little mess, anyway? it's not like your focussing on the state of the cabin, when he is in front of you, looking down at you with his big puppy dog eyes and flushed cheeks.
and the hair.
you press your lips to his again, going on your tiptoes. his hands land on your hips and trail down to your ass, squeezing gently, to which you breathe out a laugh. you kick off your boots swiftly, kicking them god knows where.
you walk him backwards until he's sat on the edge of his bed, looking up at you to kiss you just as deeply.
sam loves just kissing you. it's a mundane, even domestic thing, sometimes. like when he cooked you breakfast a week ago, and you brushed a kiss against his lips, or when you kiss goodbye when he drives you home after a night out.
or it can be like this. desperate and needy, with teeth clashing and a definite whimper or two from you.
and occasionally, him.
he rubs his hands along the backs of your thighs, before pulling around to the front of your jeans, popping open the button and undoing the fly.
“eager.” you comment, running your hands through his hair, now. he cuts you a look, that's meant to be disgruntled but is actually quite cute.
you smile, amused, and let him pull off your jeans. you let them fall into a pool at your feet, and step out of them when you climb into sam's lap.
he's intimidatingly huge. even while you're sat on his lap, he's a giant. not that it's a bad thing, but it was definitely concerning the first time you had sex, with the fear that maybe he wouldn't fit.
but, alas, he made it fit.
he shrugs off his jacket, throwing it towards the bottom of the mattress, and similarly discards your own jacket, starting a pile of clothes at the frame of his bed. your t-shirt soon joins that pile, leaving you in just your mismatched lacy underwear.
sam tsks, moving his head back to get a good look at you. “who were you wearing this for, baby? because i don't think you were wearing this to get a flat tire in the middle of nowhere.”
heat rushes to your face, and you shake your head. “i just like the way it looks.”
“yeah, no wonder.” sam laughs, running his massive hands up and down your body, appreciating the view with those fucking eyes. “no one else i should be concerned about, though?”
you shake your head. “no, sam.” you say, a dark part of you getting a thrill at his possessiveness and potential jealousy.
he hums, satisfied with your answer. he presses his lips to yours once again, slipping his tongue into your mouth and licking against your own, his heart thudding steadily against his ribs.
one of his hands rests against the small of your back, pressing you to his body, and the other splays across your neck and the bottom of your face. he feels your heartbeat flutter underneath his palm, and he grins into the kiss, ecstatic to know that he had this effect on you.
as the kiss grows hungrier, and messier, the pressure between your legs starts to grow, and you can't help but roll your hips against him. your breath hitches as your clit catches against the seam of his jeans, drawing attention to your nearly naked body against his fully clothed one.
sam pulls away from the kiss, a string of saliva connecting the two of you obscenely until it breaks, and started to press kisses against your face and your jaw. you roll your hips with more confidence, feeling the growing bulge beneath your layers.
“someone's excited.” you say breathlessly, smiling.
“i could say the same, sweetheart.” sam smirks, encouraging you to roll your hips with the repeated movement of his hand against your back.
his kisses trail down to your neck, sucking your skin harshly, like he's trying to feed from you. you gasp sharply, hips grinding down against him sharply, to which he also groans.
with one hand, he deftly undoes your lacy bra, bringing both of his hands to the straps to take the item of clothing off with the delicacy that you deserve, and that he can deliver.
he drops the bra to the floor with your jeans, then starting to kiss down to your chest. his hips start rolling upwards, meeting your grinding down and creating stimulation for you both.
you moan throatily, desperation clawing at you like a starving, howling monster. as sam's mouth latches onto your peaked nipples, your slow, lustful rolling of your hips becomes more like bounces, desperate to grind your clit against him.
“fuck.” sam groans, detaching himself from your tits, but smoothing his hands up your body until he can cup them, pinching your nipples to make you moan sharply. “so desperate, bouncing on my lap like that, aren't ya? desperate to get off, even with me barely touching you.”
your hands reach up to his hair, grabbing fistfuls of the grown out, brown locks and pulling, yanking his head backwards. he moans, and your heart bangs against your ribs.
“jesus.” he pants, watching you bounce against his lap in just your panties, the pain of having his hair pulled turning into pleasure as he rolls his hips back up.
a look crossed your face, and it's one that he recognises. you're close, and a determination to come makes your face soften, losing it's usual sharp awareness.
you're about to stutter out some words to him when he lifts you up and just of his lap.
you gasp sharply, not expecting to be picked up like you weighed nothing by this giant of a man, and definitely not expecting to have your orgasm ruined.
“sam!” you scold, frowning at him.
sam tries so hard to take you seriously, but with your thighs twitching and chest heaving and juices soaking through your panties and making a wet spot on both the material and, as he discovers, his jeans, it's hard not to find you adorable.
“why're you laughing?” you scoff at him. “you weren't laughing like this when i had you handcuffed to my bed two days ago, begging me to ride you.”
sam's cheeks go pink, and you smirk at him with a feeling of victory.
“well who's the desperate one, now?” he smiles at you, leaning down and kissing your hairline.
“judging by your hard on, both of us.” you point out, gesturing towards the large bulge in his jeans.
sam rolls his eyes. “am i gonna have to fix that attitude for you, or are you gonna straighten yourself out?”
you huff, looking away from him. “i'll straighten myself out.” you murmur.
sam leans down, closer to you. “sorry, i don't think i caught that.”
a sigh leaves your mouth, and you bring your gaze up to his, locking eyes with his. “i'll straighten myself out.” you say. “sir.”
sam sits back on his haunches, pulling off his shirt and exposing his large chest, the abs, and the carved v-line. or, most importantly, the little happy trail that starts along stomach and disappears below the waistband of his jeans.
“good girl.” he grins, and he instantly sees you perk up at the praise, like a dog hearing the word *treat.*
your hands come up to touch his chest and arms reverently, and they look tiny in comparison to his chest, let alone his whole body. your squeeze his biceps, and look up at him with glossy, lustful eyes.
“where'd that bratty girl disappear to?” he smirks, unbuttoning his jeans and undoing the zip, kicking them off somewhere in the cabin. “or did i finally manage to kick the attitude to the curb?”
“clearly.” you say, more focused on the large bulge in his boxers, the front of the material already stained with precum. your hand goes from his arms down to his ass, and then palms his cock, still surprised at the size of it despite your frequent hook ups with sam.
“what d'ya wanna do?” sam asks you, his tone sincere and... caring.
“want you to eat me out.” you say confidently, no shying away from your desire for him – or his mouth.
sam smiles and moves down the bed so he's face to face with your soaked underwear, more than happy to oblige.
he presses a lingering kiss to your clothed pussy, right where your clit is. you let out a soft, shaky breath, which sam is not satisfied with. he wants you moaning, screaming. the two of you may as well take advantage of the cabin in the middle of nowhere.
even through your panties, sam can taste you on his lips, your arousal soaking through the flimsy material between the two of you. he licks the patch of wetness until he's exhausted the flavour on his tongue, your whimpers and soft sighs not enough to satiate his hunger for you.
he loops his fingers into the side of your waistband and gently pulls your panties down and off your legs, throwing them elsewhere, before spreading your legs wide.
he takes a moment to lean back and admire the beauty of your cunt, soaked with your juices and good enough to eat. he keeps your legs spread by placing your knees over his shoulders, before finally diving in.
he immediately latches onto your clit, sucking at the bud sharply and without pause, making you whine and keen, your back bending upwards. one of your hands laces into his hair, pulling tightly and making him groan right into your sensitive pussy. he interlaces his fingers with your other hand, squeezing gently.
he pulls back and licks a long stripe up your slit, gathering your arousal on his tongue and swallowing the taste of you, moaning deeply. he continued to lick up your pussy with little kitten licks, burying his face in between you legs and dipping into your fluttering entrance with his skilful tongue.
“sam.” you moan out, hips bucking up against his face. “so fucking good at that, holy shit.”
he hums in acknowledgement, smirking just a little. he continued to lick into your entrance, nose bumping into your clit and making your body jolt. he makes obscene noises between your legs, and he starts to attack your clit once again.
you grab his hair, yanking it backwards and pulling him away from your pussy. his lips and chin glisten with your juices, and he licks away your essence, savouring it as best as he can. using his hair, you drag him back to you so you can kiss him again, tasting yourself in his mouth.
“please.” you mumble against his mouth, gripping his long hair tight in your fists. “fuck me.”
he nods, pressing his lips to yours firmly and devouring your mouth while you shuffle off his boxers. he helps you out, pulling back from your mouth and kicking them off, before diving back in to taste your lips.
he presses the pad of his thumb to your clit, circling it gently and making you hum into his mouth. you spread your legs a little, and he kneels between them, pumping himself a few times before pressing his leaking tip against your entrance. he pulls back from your lips, watching you instead.
slowly, gently, he presses into you. he knows you can take it, you have done multiple times over the past couple months, but he prioritises your comfort first. so he lets you get used to the stretch around him firstly.
you gasp at the intrusion, your eyes fluttering closed and your head tipping back further into the pillows. sam, on the other hand, watches himself sink into you with undivided attention, your cunt swallowing inch by inch of his cock.
“jesus christ.” he murmurs, the feeling of you around him the closest to heaven he's felt in a long time. one of his hands holds onto your hip, whole the other grips the pillow beside your head, making him lean over you.
it takes several seconds,, but you squeeze his worst and nod, giving him the go ahead to start moving.
he pulls out slowly, before thrusting his hips forwards, going in slow, and deep, and careful. there's nothing rushed about it, just the languid movement, the intense pleasure.
he makes the same move again, and you moan quietly, hands coming up to tangle in his hair, gripping tight but not doing much more than that. both of your breathing comes out in heavy pants, even as his thrusts begin to speed up.
however, they're by no means fast. they're just as deep, and his pelvis bumps into your clit a few times.
his forehead rests on the pillow beside your head, eyes squeezed shut and hid hot breath fanning against your shoulder, somehow making the sex more intimate than any of the other times the two of you have fucked.
when his eyes open a little, the glimmers of moonlight from the window are illuminating your face. there's a slight sheen of sweat covering it, and your features are scrunched up in pleasure, mouth open with the soft whimpers you let out and eyelashes fluttering as you blink slowly. your eyes shine, and when your gaze meets his, your head turned slightly to the side, your noses almost touching, his chest clenches.
sam winchester might have just fallen in love.
he thrusts deeper into you, letting out a guttural moan, and you reciprocate the sound, fisting at his hair and pulling his face into the crook of your neck.
his hips snap forwards, burying himself in, before pulling out once again. you don't usually get off on just penetration, but this feels... different.
sam is practically on top of you, with your legs wrapped all the way around him and his chest brushing yours. he's absolutely huge, in every sense of the word, blanketing your whole body.
he presses soft kisses against your jaw when he's not grunting and moaning from the esquisitive feeling of you clenching around him, your pussy fluttering as the minutes go by, and you get closer and closer.
your eyes start to get glassy, the pleasure overwhelming. the tears overflow with a couple of stray tears running down your temples and into your hairline.
you kisses your temple, before pressing his lips to yours messily. you kiss briefly, but it's more a mix of gasps and moans and whimpers in each others mouths. he presses more kisses around your face as he fucks in and out of you.
“sammy-” you gasp, your breath against his face.
for a second, sam's blood goes cold, his heart jolting and ribcage contracting around his lungs. his lips freeze on your skin, before he pulls back a little.
sammy.
”don't call me that.” he grunts, his voice cold and hard, and his thrust even harder.
you're a bit thrown off by the directness of his words, but let it go slightly when you feel his cock brushing your cervix, a sharp gasp tumbling out of your mouth.
he grinds into you deeper, sitting up on his knees - breaking that fragile intimacy between you, all because of that godforsaken nickname.
both of his hands come to hold your hips, his own slamming into you.
while, thirty seconds ago, it feels like the two of you were making love, it now feels like you're... fucking. and while it feels good, of course it does, it's sam, it isn't as... emotionally fulfilling, maybe.
so, you reach a hand down and start to rub your clit, which sam notices immediately. he's about to move your hand and do it for you, when he feels you clamp down on him, and watches your head burrow into the pillows as you gasp out a choked moan.
white spots dance behind your eyelids as you squeeze your eyes shut, hips slightly canter upwards and heels digging into the small of sam's back.
“that's it.” he hums, trying to bring back some of the gentleness from earlier, grinding into you steadily to help you ride out the strong waves of your orgasm. he leans down, before rolling hid hips hard and deep, until he bottoms out with a loud groan, filling you up with his warmth.
sam grunts and practically collapsed on top of you, his sweaty forehead meeting your own gently, both of your eyes closed and panting against each other's faces.
“fuck.” you break the relative silence, still panting. “that was-”
“good.” sam finishes breathlessly, stroking his hands over your ribcage, before slowly pulling out of you, his cum leaking out of your entrance. you cringe at the feeling, but need to get up to pee anyway.
sam shuffles over to the side of the bed, covered in sweat, and grabs your hand, urging you to go to the bathroom.
you groan, flopping back dramatically, but let him help you to the toilet, since your legs are so wobbly from the insane orgasm that you can't stand straight.
when the two of you are back in bed, just a pair of panties and one of sam's t-shirts on, a purple one, you press your head against his huge bicep.
you open your mouth, and sam hopes, prays, that you're not about to bring up the sammy thing.
“so...” you start, gently, like you're trying to approach a rabid animal. “what was that whole sammy thing?”
sam winces, and pulls you closer to him, putting the arm you're leaning on behind your head so you lay on top of it. “nothing.” he murmurs, shaking his head.
“didn't seem like nothing.” you comment noncommittally, briefly looking up at him.
sam almost, almost, rolls his eyes, but instead brushes your hair out of your face with his fingertips. “no one calls me that.”
at least nobody that's alive.
you hum, pursing your lips together, but not commenting on it. instead, your finger tips dance over his chest while you think.
“after i called you that, you stopped kissing me.” you mumble. “what did i do wrong?”
he shakes his head. “it wasn't you. you didn't do anything wrong-”
“then why did you freeze up? what did i do?”
sam huffs out an annoyed breath. “you're full of questions, tonight.” he murmurs, frustrated and overwhelmed with your incessant nosiness.
it's not like he has to tell you. you're not dating, he doesn't owe you anything, or any information about him, or dean-
well, now he's just getting defensive.
“it doesn't matter. my brother used to call me that.” he murmurs, quite enough that it's difficult to hear him.
there's a long stretch of silence before you speak. “oh.”
“yeah, oh.” he mumbles, now regretting even telling you. he doesn't want your pity, or sympathy. he'd rather not think about dean, and push down that horrible guilt and grief.
“i'm sorry.” you say, placing your hand flat ok hie chest, over the top of his heart.
sam's chest constricts, and he shakes his head. “don't apologise.”
i don't want your apologies. i'm the reason he's not back, because i can't bring myself to look for him.
you hum and then tilt your head to look up at him. “okay. if you ever wanna talk about him-”
he wants to snap at you, to tell you that he doesn't want to talk about dean, not ever. but he also doesn't want to start an argument. not now, when he's realised his feelings for you might be deeper than he expected.
“i know.” he murmurs, brushing your hair back with his gentle fingers and kissing your hairline instead. “i know, baby. but i just wanna sleep now.”
you nod, understanding on some level that the wound of dean's death, or what you assume is his death, is too raw. “okay.” you whisper. “goodnight, sam.”
he pulls you in closer, rubbing your arm gently. “goodnight, sweetheart.”
it doesn't take long for you to drift off. sam can't sleep, not when he feels like this. but he finds some semblance of comfort in you being in his arms, so soft, and so peaceful.
whatever road he's taking now, whether that be looking for dean or wallowing in grief, he knows that you're his guiding light. you mean too much to him, now.
and that's a dangerous thing for a man like sam winchester. his only hope is that it goes right this time.