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“Can I trust you two to behave?” That's the question echoing in your mind as you and Sam clean up the kitchen from dinner. Dean had cooked, so it was both of your jobs to clean afterwards. Standard rule of the bunker. You both worked side by side, Sam washing the dishes as you rinsed and dried them. It was the last thing he had said before retreating to his ‘Dean cave’, talking about some game he wanted to watch.
There was music playing in the background, coming from a speaker on the other side of the room as Sam sang along softly. Every now and then, your hip would bump into his as you reached for the next dish. You tried to think of anything else, what you needed to do later that evening, if you were going to wash your hair tonight or in the morning, anything to keep your mind from lingering on the man next to you.
Can I trust you two to behave? You glance over at Sam, the way he moved beside you, using the scrub pad to clean each dish thoroughly. His long sleeves rolled up over his forearms to keep them dry, suds covering his fingers each time he handed you another dish to rinse. You did your best to not stare at each vein along the back of his hands, traveling up his arms.
But all you can think about are his hands, his fingers, those forearms, warm, wet, and everything you have been dreaming about for the last few years. Thankful that he gave you the easier job, you are able to split your focus between drying the dishes and your blatant ogling of the younger Winchester beside you. Because despite trying not to, you were like a dog with a bone, focused on one thing. You bite your bottom lip unconsciously as your thoughts start to turn towards how they would feel on your skin, how he would work you up, how much thicker his—
You are jolted out of your daydream when he bumps your hip with his, holding out a plate for you. “Something on your mind?”
You clear your throat, shaking your head. “No. Of course not. Just zoning out.”
“That’s one word for it. You look like you are about to bite my hand.”
“I only bite when asked, Sam.” You say, fluttering your eyelashes as you look up at him, knowing he can see the sparkle in your eyes.
“Is that a promise?”
“Are you planning on asking?”
“I haven’t decided yet.” You chuckle at his response, hoping he had forgotten about you dodging his question, but you weren’t that lucky.
“If you weren’t thinking about biting me, which is one step away from kissing me I might add, what exactly was on your mind?”
You pause, weighing your options, Dean’s words ringing in your ears, can I trust you two to behave?
“I don’t think I should say.”
“Well, now, I only want to know more.”
Sam dries off his hands, turning to face you, arms crossed in front of him. You drop the dish towel on the counter, and lean against it. You point at him, gesturing. “This isn’t helping.”
“You are blaming me?”
“Yes! No. It’s just…” You sigh, trying to find the right way to say it. “You are just so big and–”
You yelp in surprise as his hands are on your waist, lifting you up until you land on the countertop underneath you, cool through the fabric of your jeans. He steps between your legs, still having to lean down to look you in the eye.
It catches you off guard causing you to freeze for a moment before you whisper, “Hi.”
“Hi.” He murmurs back, leaning into your space, arms braced beside you, caging you in. You can feel the heat radiating from his body. The scent of his cologne surrounding you, warm and woodsy notes filling the space around you until all you can see, smell, and focus on is him.
“Dean said to behave.” You say, trying to hold onto reason, like it won’t take much to convince you to throw caution to the wind. Like everything hasn’t been building to a breaking point these past weeks.
“Rules are meant to be broken.”
“I’m sorry. Did the Sam Winchester just tell me rules are meant to be broken? Are you alright in there?” You tease, grabbing his cheeks to turn his head side to side so you can assess for anything off.
He grins, letting you move his head around for a moment before he grabs your hands, pulling them from his face as he leans closer. “You know, if it was Dean here instead of me, he wouldn’t be trying to play by the rules.”
A corner of your mouth quirks up, knowing Sam is completely right. Dean would most definitely start pushing the limits to see what he could get away with, and see where the line was. So why shouldn’t Sam do the same.
“There has been something on my mind since last week. Something you mentioned.” He says, trying to gauge your reaction.
“What exactly did I mention? I say a lot of things.” Your thoughts turned fuzzy with him so close, so you aren't sure exactly what he is referring to.
He brings your hands back up, kissing your knuckles softly. “I distinctly remember it was something about fingers…” He trails off, smirking.
Oh. Right. That. You flush, recalling how you told him off about your fingers being too short to properly get the job done.
“You are right,” he murmurs, pressing his palm against yours, his large hand dwarfing yours in comparison. “They are quite small. Definitely need something longer and thicker to help you out.”
“Should I call Dean to come back? I’m sure he is more than willing.” You ask, goading him on purpose.
His eyes flash before yanking your hips forward to the edge of the counter as he moves closer between your legs so his body is pressed against yours. “I am the only one you need right now.”
You grin, your arms gripping his biceps through his shirt. “Is that so, Sam?”
He doesn’t answer you, his eyes tracing down your body, like he can see right through your clothes. You shift under the full weight of his attention. He trails his fingers up your arms, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You can't help the shiver running down your spine as you watch him curious to see what he does next.
His fingers trace along your neck, sliding behind your neck to tilt your head back so he can hold your gaze. “You drive me crazy.” He says. “Time to return the favor.”
With that, he grips the hem of your shirt before asking, “Is this okay?”
You nod, and when he just raises his eyebrows, you realize he wants to hear you say it aloud. “Yes. It’s fine.”
Lifting your arms, he slides your shirt up over your head, dropping it on the counter beside you, leaning back enough to inspect the skin he just revealed. Your skin breaks out in gooseflesh against the cool air of the kitchen. You take a deep breath and it presses your chest out more, drawing his eyes down to your breasts, contained in your favorite lacy bra.
“Gorgeous.” He murmurs under his breath, his finger tracing along the edge of the bra, his touch barely there, but enough to have electricity firing straight to your core. You can’t help but shift on the counter, feeling him harden against you through the layers of fabric.
“You are acting like you have never seen a pair of boobs before.” You mumble.
He scoffs. “I’m acting like I want to savor the moment, smart ass.”
“My ass isn’t just smart.”
His eyes darken, “I’m well aware.”
He palms one of your breasts, thumb circling your nipple where it peaked through the thin fabric, cutting off any reply you could have thought of. He squeezes, fingers massaging you, pulling a moan from your throat, your back arching to press yourself more fully into his grasp. His head ducks down, licking the swell of your breast before wrapping his lips around your nipple, teeth scraping gently over the fabric.
Your thighs clamp around his legs as you grab onto him, every sound leaving your mouth encouraging his slow exploration of your body, even if it did feel like a sweet torture.
His fingers twist and flick against your sensitive bud before his mouth moves to the other breast with the same attention. He snaps the clasp of your bra with one hand, letting it fall forward off your shoulders, pulling his mouth away just long enough for it to fall away before reattaching to your bare skin, sucking as his tongue circles the stiff peak.
“Oh my god, Sam.” You whimper, hands running up his arms to tangle in his long locks. Good god, his hair is so soft between your fingers and when you tug on it, the answering groan reverberates through your body straight to your core, stoking the already burning fire inside you.
He pulls off with a soft pop, as you pull him closer, eyes locked on his lips, mind clouded. He stops right in front of your face, lips just a breath’s away from yours, waiting for you to close the distance. The air heats up between you from your soft pants. You blink, his green eyes dark, practically begging you to just give in. And you want to just give into him. His tongue darts out wetting his lips like he can read the struggle in your eyes.
You sigh, dropping your head to his neck.
“Is it going to take more to convince you to give in?” He whispers in your ear.
“So all of this is just to get me to kiss you?” You ask, pulling back to smirk at him.
“I can have multiple motives. Don’t worry. You are the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.” He says, grinning. “Just need to drive you a little crazier so you give in without thinking about it.”
“I will have you know, I have a pretty strong willpower…” You start when he grabs your thighs to lift your legs around his hips, grinding against you, causing you to break off in a groan, your head falling back. He feels so hard against you, perfect and thick.
“What was that again?” He teases, rolling his hips again.
“Fuck.” You clear your throat, trying to keep your voice firm. “I’m not kissing you tonight.”
“Then you better get used to enjoying this.”
“This?”
Instead of answering he just chuckles, hands moving to unbutton your jeans. “Help me get these off.”
You lean back, lifting your hips up as he pulls your jeans down, leaving you in just your underwear, perched on the counter looking like a dream he never wants to wake from.
He tilts your head to the side, his lips brushing against your neck as his other hand traces down your curves. He peppers soft kisses designed to drive you crazy down the column of your neck. He continues down, along your collarbone, hands sliding up to push your breasts together as he buries his face between them, licking and nipping at your skin.
Your eyes flutter shut, leaning back as his tongue flicks out, worshipping your body. You squirm beneath him, your panties growing more damp from his ministrations. Every touch is just causing you to become desperate for more.
“Please,” you whimper, pulling at the hem of his t-shirt. He pulls back just enough to remove his shirt, dropping it to the floor, and your hands explore the hard planes of muscle along with the scars on his body.
“Please what?” He asks.
“Sam!” You whine. “I need…I need…”
“What do you need, baby? Tell me.” He grabs your jaw, tilting your head back, so he can see absolute desperation in your eyes.
“Touch me.”
“I have been.” You can hear the smug tone of his voice, and it makes you want to dig your heels in and hold your ground.
“You know what I mean, Sam.” You can feel the frustration building inside you, the tension he has been slowly building inside you with every press of his lips, every brush of his fingers. You don’t want it to stop, you just want to fall apart in his arms. His thick arms that would hold you close, keep you safe, even while he is driving you insane.
“I know what you mean. Still want to hear it.”
You take a deep breath, trying to decide if it is worth trying to argue with him. It isn’t. So you give in and say. “I want your fingers inside me, Sam. Please.”
“That wasn’t so difficult was it?” He runs his fingers over the wet spot in your panties and you nearly sigh in relief, your hands gripping his shoulders to anchor yourself as he rubs up and down your slit, with the fabric separating you.
“Patience, baby.”
“Yeah, that’s not my strong suit.”
He chuckles, “I know. Makes this more fun.”
You hips buck, trying to get more friction, and he pulls his hand back. Your eyes widen for a moment before your patience has officially run out. You slide your hands inside your panties, sliding them down.
“Here. I’ll help.” You grumble, kicking the offending lace fabric off.
His hand finds its way back to you, fingers spreading your folds as he dips a finger just inside your core to gather some of the wetness leaking from you before circling your clit, pulling a moan from you. You lean forward brushing your lips against the anti-possession tattoo inked on his chest.
“That feels good.” You murmur against his skin, breathing him in deeply.
“Make you feel like you want to kiss me yet?” He asks.
You nip at his shoulder. “Is that all you are concerned about right now? There’s a naked girl in front of you, practically begging for you, and you want a kiss.”
“It’s an important kiss.”
“Come on, Sam.” You murmur, “When are you going to stop teasing me?”
His teeth nip your earlobe, voice low, thick with need, answering you, “I’m going to take my time, after these weeks of you teasing me and Dean to no end.”
“Do you really want to bring your brother into this?”
He chuckles, finger still rubbing against your clit too softly to do anything but tease you.
“I’ll call out for him.” You threaten again. “Bet he wouldn’t try to keep me on edge for the foreseeable future.”
“No you won’t.” He says, calling your bluff immediately. “You are going to be patient for me. I want to see every single thing on your face as I drive you absolutely crazy. Trust me, I’ll give you exactly what you need.”
The moan that leaves your mouth when he finally slides one finger inside you is borderline pornographic, and his answering groan is just as obscene. The heat between the two of you is burning to an inferno, the air between you both stifling. His forehead falls to your shoulder, your hips rolling in time with his finger sliding in and out with the evidence of your arousal slick and shining in the low light.
“So tight for me, baby. Are you sure your fingers don’t do the trick?”
“Fuck you, Sam.”
“You will, sweetheart. Don’t you worry about it.
“Not today?”
“No, not today.”
He adds a second finger, his fingers rubbing at that spongy spot inside you with a come hither motion that has your legs tightening around him, and you open your eyes finding his gaze on you. You can barely see the green from how blown out his pupils are. Your hands slide up to his neck, pulling him closer. His head ducks to your neck, lips latching just under your ear, sucking a mark that would bloom deep red by morning.
You feel like a rubber band stretched too tight, your breathing coming in gasps as he continues, the heel of his hand rubbing against you as his thick fingers continue to thrust into you, hitting you perfectly.
“Can feel you clenching around my fingers. You are close, aren’t you?”
All he gets in response is a muffled moan from you as your hips jerk. You close your eyes tight as you approach that glorious edge.
“Let me see you come, baby.” He murmurs. “Want to see exactly what I’m doing to you.”
You nod frantically, leaning back enough to look up at him, letting him see every expression crossing your face as it twists in pleasure.
Breathless, you can barely get out, “I’m so close, Sam.”
“You can come for me. I got you.”
You burst into a thousand pieces in his arms as your head falls back, crying out his name. All the tension finally easing as you clenched around his fingers, gripping him like a vice. His fingers work you through your peak until you are a puddle of satisfaction against his chest. You pant, head resting against his shoulders as you tried to catch your breath. Your hands shake softly from the aftershocks as they run down his back. He finally slides his fingers out of you, and you groan at the loss.
He brings them to his mouth, sucking them clean, and you just watch as you float back down to yourself, like that isn’t the sexiest thing you have seen him do.
“God, you taste just like I dreamed.” He murmurs.
“That was…amazing,” You say, voice cracking softly.
“Yeah? Just amazing?”
You lean back. “Amazing is very good.”
“Good enough for a kiss?”
You slap his chest playfully. “Don’t push it.”
“Oh, you better believe I am going to keep pushing it.”
He tosses you your clothes, and you start pulling them on. “Yeah, you and Dean both.”
He nods in acknowledgment.
When you hop down from the counter, you ask, “So, are you gonna jerk off thinking about me later?” Your hand presses at the bulge in his jeans, rubbing the thick length. You think about sinking to your knees here in the kitchen now, but it might be more fun to keep him waiting.
“You aren’t offering to help me out?” He asks, eyes closing as you tease him, before you pull back.
You giggle, winking at him before leaving the kitchen. “Maybe next time, Sammy.”
You can hear his answering groan along with grumbling you couldn’t make out as you wander down the hallway to your room, Dean none the wiser to what just happened across the bunker.