The bar was dim, the neon lights casting streaks across the walls. You perched on a stool near the back, nursing a drink you weren’t even tasting. Your phone buzzed, but you ignored it — you already knew it was him. Sam.
And of course, there he was. Jeans tight in all the right places, flannel slightly open at the collar, eyes scanning the room like he owned it. And maybe tonight, in this town, he did.
Your pulse jumped before your brain even registered it. You hated how easy he made it to want him.
He slid onto the stool beside you without a word. Just… slid in like he was supposed to be there, like you hadn’t spent months convincing yourself to stay away.
“You still mad at me?” His voice was low, teasing, and the warmth of it made your stomach twist.
“I’m not mad,” you said, even though your body screamed otherwise. “I’m smarter now.”
“Smart enough to stay away?” His eyes flicked down to your lips.
“Not smart enough to stop wanting you,” you admitted.
Sam’s smirk widened, slow, dangerous. “Good. Because I’ve thought about you every damn day. About your body. Your mouth. About how loud you get when I touch you the right way.”
Heat pooled between your legs at his words. You shifted in your seat, trying to look casual, but it was useless. You’d never been casual with Sam Winchester.
He leaned closer, his hand brushing your thigh under the bar. Your breath hitched. “You know,” he murmured, “I think about you in the shower. Alone.”
The world around you shrank until it was just him, just the tension that made your skin ache. “I get wet at the thought of you,” you admitted, voice trembling, because honesty hurt more than lies ever could.
Before you could react, his hands slid higher, teasing, testing, claiming. You moaned, biting your lip, trying to hide it. He chuckled low in his throat.
“God, you taste so good when you try to act like this doesn’t affect you,” he whispered, eyes locked on yours. “I could make you scream in this bar, and you’d still pretend to be smart.”
You leaned into him, reckless. “Maybe I want to be reckless.”
And that was all it took. Sam grabbed your hand and pulled you toward the alley behind the bar, the night swallowing you both in shadows. The sound of the city blurred, all that existed was the heat between you and the way he made you melt with just a look.
He pressed you against the brick wall, fingers tangling in your hair. “God, I’ve waited for this,” he groaned, lips brushing your ear. “Every second away from you felt like punishment.”
Your hands roamed over his chest, memorizing the feel of him. “I missed you,” you admitted, breathless.
“Yeah?” His lips ghosted over your neck. “Because I never stopped thinking about you. About this.”
The alley wasn’t enough. Neither of you cared. Sam yanked you toward his car and shoved the door open, pulling you inside like he couldn’t wait another second. The backseat wasn’t spacious, but it was yours for the night — a confined space that made every touch and brush of skin more intense.
He kissed you like he meant to claim every inch of you, hands roaming, teasing, tugging at buttons and flannel until clothing became a nuisance neither of you bothered to fix.
“Say it,” he demanded, low and dangerous, thumbs grazing your hips.
“What?” you gasped, desperate for air and touch.
“That you want me. Right here. Right now.”
Heat rushed through you, reckless and urgent. “I… I can’t—”
“Yes, you can,” he interrupted, smirking, teeth grazing your jaw. “You’ve been thinking about this all day. Admit it.”
“I want you,” you confessed, breathless, trembling under the weight of desire and tension.
“Good,” he said simply. “Because I’m not stopping.”
Hands tangled in your hair, his lips against yours, every kiss, every touch, every sigh a reminder of what you’d both been denying yourself. You moaned as his hand slid down your thigh, teasing, claiming, making your back arch instinctively.
You pushed him onto the seat, straddling him, and he groaned, hands immediately finding your hips. The car rocked slightly as you moved together, slow at first, testing, tasting, memorizing. Every touch made your heart pound and your stomach twist.
“You feel like fire,” he whispered against your neck. “Like everything I’ve wanted, all at once.”
“And you,” you gasped, “feel like sin.”
Sam laughed low in your ear, the sound vibrating through your chest. “Then let’s sin together.”
The night stretched endlessly, a blur of touches, whispers, and desperate need. The city outside didn’t exist. Only you and Sam, tangled, messy, raw, giving in to every craving, every want, every damn thought you’d been trying to fight.
When the car was spent, you collapsed against him, breathless and shivering, every inch of your skin alive with satisfaction.
Sam brushed a strand of hair from your face, thumb trailing along your jaw. “You know,” he murmured, voice soft now, dangerous in a different way, “I could do this all night. And I would. Every time you thought you were done with me…”
You swallowed hard, resting your forehead against his chest. “I know.”
“And you’d never really stay away,” he added, smirking again.
You shook your head, smiling despite yourself. “No… I wouldn’t.”
Because some things — some people — were impossible to let go of.
