đ đđĄđ đ˛Öźđ˘ đ˘leepy pronebone with đ˘am đŚinchester
The room is bathed in the dim, golden glow of the salt lamp Dean insists on keeping in every motel room âfor vibes, Sammyâ, but right now, the only vibe is the slow, heavy drag of Samâs cock inside you, his body a warm, solid weight pressed against your back. Heâs half-asleep, his movements sluggish, like heâs fucking you in a dream. One he never wants to wake up from.
A pillowâs wedged under your hips, tilting you just enough that every time he sinks in, he stays there, buried to the hilt, his pubic bone grinding against your ass with a lazy, circular roll. You can feel everythingâthe stretch, the heat, the way his cock twitches inside you when you clench around him, like heâs surprised by how good it feels, even now.
His arm is a band around your waist, his fingers splayed over your stomach, pulling you back onto him with every slow, deep thrust. His other hand is clamped over your mouth, but thereâs no real force behind it. Just the quiet understanding that Deanâs in the next room, and if he hears anythingâeven the wet, obscene sounds of Sam fucking youâheâll never let either of you live it down.
âMmm, fuck,â Sam mumbles into the crook of your neck, his voice thick with sleep, his breath hot against your skin. âYouâre so tight like this.â His hips rock forward, his cock dragging against that spot inside you that makes your toes curl, and you whimper against his palm, the sound muffled but desperate. He smiles, you can feel it against your shoulderâbecause he knows what heâs doing to you.
His hand on your stomach slides further down beneath you, his fingers finding your clit with the kind of lazy precision that comes from knowing your body. He doesnât rush. Doesnât need to. His thumb circles you in slow, maddening little swirls, his touch feather-light at first, then firmer when you buck back against him, begging without words.
âThatâs it,â he murmurs, his voice a sleepy purr. âTake me. All of me.â And you do. You do, because how could you not? When heâs like thisâwarm, heavy, his cock throbbing inside you with every shallow breathâthereâs nothing else in the world but the two of you, the slick slide of skin, the way his chest rises and falls against your back.
His thrusts are lazy, almost drowsy, but no less deep. Every time he bottoms out, he stays there, his hips pressed flush against your ass, his cock pulsing like heâs savoring the way you clench around him. âFuck, you feel so good,â he whispers, his voice breaking just a little, and the sound of it has you squeezing around him harder, earning a broken groan from his chest.
His thumb presses down on your clit, and your body shudders, your orgasm building slow and deep, like a tide pulling you under. You can feel him everywhereâhis chest against your back, his cock buried inside you, his fingers working you over, his breath hot against your neck. âSamââ His name is a plea, a whine, and he swallows it, his hand pressing harder over your mouth as his own rhythm stutters, his hips losing their careful pace.
âI canâtâfuckâI canât last,â he admits, and the admission is raw, so Sam it hurts. His thrusts turn erratic, his fingers digging into your hip, his cock twitching inside you as he chases his own release.
And then his thumb presses down, hard, and the world tilts. Your orgasm rips through you, slow and deep, your body clamping down around him so tightly he groans, his own release following with a shuddering, broken cry against your shoulder. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as he spills inside you, his cock pulsing, his whole body trembling.
For a long moment, thereâs nothing but the sound of your ragged breathing, the thud of his heartbeat against your back, the way his grip on you loosens just enough to let you drag in a lungful of air. His hand slides from your mouth, his fingers lingering against your lips like heâs memorizing the shape of them.
Then, because heâs Sam, because he canât not say itââYou okay?â His voice is rough, worried, even now. Even after.
And you laugh, breathless, because of course heâd ask that. Of course heâd still be checking on you when heâs the one who just got fucked senseless.
You turn your head just enough to catch his mouth in a slow, sleepy kiss, tasting the salt on his skin, the faint hint of coffee from the diner down the road. âI will be,â you murmur against his lips, âwhen you do that again.â
His chuckle is quiet, low, and full of promises. âOh, weâre definitely doing that again.â
Š đđđđ đđđ. 2026 all rights reserved. Do not copy, repost, plagiarize, translate or feed any of my work into ai.
if u get a â â â â â in ur inbox it means ur moot appreciates u, and your efforts in the community !!!!! send this to 10 mutuals to continue the love đ¤
trying to research stanford law classes (spoiler alert-for my possible professor sam winchester au) and almost throwing up from disgust as an ex-law girl. someone help. i hate law sm.
hiya hiya idk how long you've had this theme but i have just come to say i adore the jellyfish pfp and for the time being we're kinda theme twins with the jellyfish đ¤đ¤
@aseafullofstars :]
OMG HIII we're matchinggg i updated my theme like 5 days ago !! love love urs !!! đ¤đŞź
i wanted to do this for so long and then i saw my beloved taggie doing this and it felt like a sign. below are my absolute favorite authors and their works of art. shakespeare aint got shit on yall.
(considering i 99% times read about sam, the list below features only sam fics) 18+ !! mdni probably gonna update overtime !!
@thesundontshineontheseeyebrows
"you should see the things we do in my dreams"
gotta start with my absolute favorite fanfic oat i'm not even kidding. i've read this at least 4 times, never get bored of it.
@theedaythatnevercomes
"breathe out, so i can breathe you in"
"revelations"
"cherry waves"
"hold me 'til i die"
i thank the universe every day for introducing me to this blog. literally EVERYTHING is amazing but these are my absolute favorite ones.
@sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth
"record" has a pt 2 on ao3 (my absolute favorite)
"pretty as a vine, sweet as a grape"
"I dreamed of the places Iâve been with you"
"you got me good (I knew you would)"
"squeaky clean"
writing genuinely feels like "home" idk how to even describe it. so so many amazing fics, if i start listing all of them i'm gonna run out of room lol.
@southernimpala
"you know i'd do anything for you"
"midnight swim"
"backseat" "frontseat"
"all that's left are your walls..."
mia=shakespeare. such beautiful writing i can never get enough.
@wvyik
"the virgin problem"
you'll always be in my mind my sweet sofi </3
@holdinggrudges
"what's my flavor?" "dripping in my favor"
old but gold. never knew i needed vampire!sam this much until i read this.
@sacr1ficialang3l
"these crosses all over my body remind me of who I used to be"
my roman empire. i still think about this fic to this day.
@kblognar
"gorgeous morning"
"cereal and coffee"
@plasticflowersinahistorycemetery
"strange eyes" pt I pt II
@chxrrywines
"mean"
"assistance"
"sexxx dreams"
other amazing authors:
@violained LOVE the fluff fics
@filthgf my fav freak
there are so many other amazing authors here that i still haven't stumbled upon on. love every one of you for taking your time and doing this. you all are amazing im so proud of each and every single one of yall. never stop doing what you love.đ¤
hiii! i just found ur account and omg, i literally love ur writing itâs amazing, i canât đ!!!
i was just wondering (since i read all your sam fics in a row and now iâm sad that i have none left) if you have any author or fic recs for him that are like ur work???? i love ur style and see that you reblog a lot!!!
if not thatâs ok but thank youuuu
HELLO ANON!!! thank you so much for reading my work and sending in this ask!!! Iâve got part 2 and 3 of yssttwdimd to post super soon + a fuck-or-die car sex one, too!! Canât wait for you to read them đđ
And WHY YES you are correct!! i have SO SOOOO many great sammy smut recs (both fics and authors!!).
This is definitely NOT a definitive list (and Iâve probably missed some, which Iâll add to when I see them!!!), but definitely some of the works and people that hold a special place in my heart <3333
works from my lovely mutuals:
@theedaythatnevercomes (Iâve basically just posted their whole masterlist WHOOPS)
fight fire with fire
breathe out, so i can breathe you in (ONE OF MY FAVS)
planet caravan
love, hate, love
she keeps me up
can you help me occupy my brain?
hold me 'til i die
c'mon baby, get in
@sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth (sorry has SOOOOO MANY good fics, itâs impossible to include them all!!! also has a seperate masterlist for fluff fics which are all SUPER DUPER CUTE đđđ)
cursed
sam winchester cries his way through sex (ONE OF MY FAVS)
egg-knock knock, who's there?
quick
share (ONE OF MY FAVS)
late night call
your fingers part my lips and teeth, well honey, as i live and breathe
you got me good (i knew you would)
a moose on the loose
says i'm his favourite (yeah, i better be)
@raspberry-starship
undo me
a bug in denial (p1 of amazing series)
@ohangeleyes
pathetic
dry humping imagine
@winterstar67
exposed (part of i'm gonna gethca good series (dean x reader x sam) which Iâm ADDICTED to!!!)
@holdinggrudges
i can be your antidote (ONE OF MY FAVS)
what's my flavour?
@infrqred
sam winchester and his love for bows
other FANTASTIC works
@deans4ngel
after the beep
@wendichester
too big, too right
breaking the rule (2)
the quiet ones break the loudest
extending the family
visitation hours
soft sounds
grip of the giant
can't get enough
@kblognar
gorgeous morning
@matchpointfaist
motel hanky panky drabble (while dean is in the room whoops)
@southernimpala
you wanna love me right now
@little-rose-big-writing
snowbound confessions
ghost light, jealous night
the dare
@immodestly-marina
look at me
@cujja
desperate times, desperate measures
and some other great blogs with sammy content to check out!!
Summary: Sam Winchester doesnât do quickies. But after spending far too much time with nothing more than a couple lingering touchesâyouâre getting a little frustrated. Too bad Dean canât seem to take a hint.
CW: Barely any plot, quickies, unprotected PIV, hot library sex (mmm), reader is a little a lot frustrated, Deanâs a major cock block, getting caught (so, accidental voyeurism? I guess?), and no, theyâre not into it⌠sorry!
WC: 4.6K
Based on this request!
Sam Winchester doesnât do quickies.
Itâs a fact that youâve, rather unfortunately, become painfully aware of over the past year. One that can make you melt one moment, and lose your mind the next.
Because when it comes to you, Sam takes his time.Â
If he had it his way, every night spent with you would stretch long past midnight, bodies tangled beneath motel sheets while the rest of the world seems to fade into nothing. Heâd kiss you so slow that your lungs would run out of air, and youâd have to drag it back in between gasps as he touches every inch of your skin with careful hands. Thereâs nothing rushed about the way Sam loves you, and nothing careless, either. He makes damn sure that youâre nothing less than spoiled, left boneless and worshipped against his chest, drifting in the hazy bliss of exhaustion as his heart thumps beneath your cheek.
And God, you love him for it. Most of the time.
But the downside of dating Sam is that his life comes with a permanent, trauma-bonded punishment attached at the hip, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester.Â
You love Dean. You really, really do. Heâs family, always has been, and always will beâthatâs just a fact of life. But thereâs moments, usually when you havenât spent more than five uninterrupted minutes alone with your gorgeous boyfriend in over a week, that fantasizing about wringing out the older manâs neck like a dish towel becomes your go to form of stress relief.Â
The two of you need to run some errands? Dean has the impalas keys in his hand before either of you can speak.
Need to interview some witnesses for a case? Well, apparently, the only thing better than two fake FBI agents is three.Â
Want to stop at some cute diner you noticed for a bite to eat? Oh, youâve just read Deanâs mind, because heâs been dreaming about pie since last week.Â
Itâs endless, and itâs starting to become unbearable. Especially when youâve spent the last two weeks with nothing more than a little heavy petting, and itâs starting to feel like some forced dry spell. By day fifteen, youâre pretty sure Deanâs doing it on purpose.
Maybe not meticulously, or even consciously, but either way, youâre going a little insane. For a man so sex-oriented, youâd think heâd be less oblivious about how much of a cock block heâs become; and thereâs only so many interrupted moments and unwanted third-wheeling a woman can take before she starts making up conspiracy theories.Â
Like tonight, for example.
You and Sam had finally managed to peel away after dinner under the excuse of breaking into the local library past close, and digging through some lore archives for your case of the week. Your plan to jump your adorably clueless boyfriend, and climb him like a fucking tree, was in full swing.
And God, it almost worked. It should have worked. Dean had barely looked at you over his burger as he waved the two of you off, mumbling something about not wanting to join in on your little nerd club.Â
But, of course, fate had other plans. Because not ten minutes later, heâd had some stupid change of heart. And coupled with Samâs inability to say no, your sweet little library date had turned into a three-person job.
So, you sit wedged beside Sam in an old rickety chair, pressed close enough to rest your shoulder against his, as Dean slouches across from you looking bored out of his skull. Honestly, youâre just grateful heâs finally stopped bragging about his alarm disarming abilities after the three of you busted in through the back door. The silence thatâs settled in in the aftermath, though, only makes you twitchy.
Samâs warm at your side, his thigh brushing against yours every time his leg bounces against the dusty floor. To his credit, he really is researching, which doesnât surprise you one bit. Thereâs that familiar, deep furrow in his brow, accompanied by a look of intense focus lighting up his hazel eyes as he scans each page. You, on the other hand, havenât flipped a single page of your copy of âDaemonologieâ in over twenty minutes.Â
Because Christ, itâs pretty damn hard to focus on mind numbing lore when Samâs so close, and smells like fucking heaven.Â
Itâs a little stupid, really, how a few dry weeks have managed to wound you up so tight, that youâre vibrating in your seat like a bitch in heat. But that revelation sure as hell doesnât stop your foot from tapping restlessly against the floor, or do a damn thing about the way youâre practically salivating over the scent of Samâs shampoo. But, hey, youâd thrown away subtle nearly ten minutes ago, the moment Samâs beautifully long fingers started tracing the faded ink of some demonic sigil, and you had to resist every primal urge to lick the veins on his hand.
Youâre about five seconds from drooling when you break the silence.Â
âAlright.â You slam your hands down on the table, spooking an unsuspecting Dean, whoâd just laid his head down over his forearmsâSamâs head snapping towards you. âThis is getting us nowhere.â
Dean groans his agreement, shoving away the book that he hadnât touched since heâd sat down. ââŚThank God. Yâknow, I saw a dive a few blocks over. We shouldââ
ââThereâs a microfilm reader in the back,â you interrupt smoothly. âWe can flip through old newspapers, look for an actual, visible pattern.â
Deanâs mouth clicks shut at your words, and you swear youâve never seen him look quite so betrayed. He blinks at you, before throwing his head back like heâd just been sentenced to life in prison.
Sam, on the other hand, folds his book closed with silent care, tilting his head towards you in silent question.
âMicrofilm?â he echos, raising a brow, before offering a shrug. âI mean. Beats sifting through physicals, butâŚâ
You shoot him a less than friendly look, one he must some-what understand (bless his soul), because his mouth snaps closed before he can finish his sentence.
ââŚRight,â he amends.Â
âWhatever, sweetheart,â Dean grumbles, already moving to stand. âLetâs all go stare at some ancient newspaper clippings âtil our eyes start to bleed.â
And oh. Oh, absolutely not.
âDean,â you say flatly, âyou hate microfilm.âÂ
He freezes halfway to standing, argument already on the tip of his tongue, but youâre faster.
âLast time, you almost smashed the damn thing before Sam took over.â
You stand quickly, too quickly, knee thumping against the table in your haste, your hand falling to plant firmly on Samâs shoulder.
âYou stay here, Dean. Keep watch, take a nap, or whatever the hell it is youâve been doing for the past half an hour. We wonât be long.â You give Sam a soft squeeze. âRight, Sammy?â
Sam lifts his head to meet your gaze, staring at you with those big, earnest puppy eyes, wide and slightly confused. He looks unfairly pretty in this light, all messy hair, sleepy focus, pink lips slightly parted in silent question.Â
He glances at your hand on his shoulder briefly, then back to your face, like heâs trying to piece together why youâre suddenly so intent on getting him alone. Which, unfortunately, is a fair question. Not that you care.
âUh,â he buffers quietly. âYeah. âCourse.â
Dean plops back down in his chair with an exaggerated sigh, kicking up both his feet. He doesnât even pretend to read this time, just watches you with narrowed eyes full of suspicion, and, well. Maybe mild annoyance.
You spare him one last mostly well natured smile as Sam stands, but you donât let him get another word in before youâre practically herding his brother across the library with far too much enthusiasm to be casual. The back room is quiet, dimly lit, and just far enough from the main library to fall out of earshot. Perfect. The door groans in protest as you pull it shut behind you, creaking loud enough to make you wince. And then you notice it.
No lock.
The realization gives you pause for exactly half a second before itâs buried beneath need so thick you have to swallow it down to keep it momentarily contained. Because honestly, now that you finally have Sam alone⌠a flimsy detail like that is nothing but an afterthought.
Sam, the sweetheart, who somehow still hasnât managed to connect the dots, moves instinctively towards one of the desks in a few short strides. He leans over the tabletop, bangs falling lazily over his forehead, his hand moving for the knob.
âWhat are you doing?â you ask, unable to keep amusement from creeping into your tone. His finger hovers halfway over the microfilm readerâs power switch, eyes flicking from it to you. That big, Stanford brain of his trying so hard to decipher where heâs missed a cue.
âWhat?âÂ
The question comes out a little croaked, and the puppy-eyed sincerity of it damn near brings you to your knees.Â
âSam.â You take one slow step forward, tilting your head with an almost innocent smile. âI thought my eye-fucking was getting a little obvious.â
He freezes. Not dramatically, no, more like a slow, dawning realization washing over him like a wave. That sweet, dumb face of his finally cracks into something else, something warm. Something darker. The kind of look that makes your stomach flip, and heat coil low in your core.
His hand slides away from the switch in a slow, teasing drag, as he pushes himself back up to his full height, stalking towards you in a few measured steps. Shadows fall over his features, catching on the sharp angle of his jaw, the perfect slope of his noseâand that gorgeous dimple thatâs just begun to show itself with the heated smirk that spreads across his lips.
âOh?â he breathes, voice rougher now. âReally? Here?â
âYeah,â you purr, and thereâs nothing subtle about the way your gaze drops to his lips before flicking back up. âHere.â
You donât let him think too hard about it before your fist is curling around his collar, and his lips are crashing against yours.
Itâs not slow, or testing, or soft. No, itâs immediate hunger. Itâs you pouring weeks of desperation and need into a single action, mouth devouring his with every ounce of frustration youâve bottled up tight enough to burst. He exhales into it, a warm puff against your cheek, as those big hands that have been haunting your fantasies slide up to cradle your jaw with infinite levels of care. His fingers splay over your cheeks, thumbs brushing beneath your eyes as he tilts your face closer to his like he canât get enough.
He pulls back just long enough to drag in a breath, the taste of him still heavy on your tongue.
âWeâre in a library,â he reasons, your noses brushing, breaths mingling.Â
âWe are.â
âDeanâs just outside.â
âHe is.â
His mouth finds yours again, slower this time, and you can tell he wants to drag this out. Make it last. Take you apart so slow that youâll be shaking in his grasp, and the only word left on your tongue is his name.Â
But right now? That⌠that just wonât do. You part again with a slick pop.
ââŚAnd youâre sure about this?â he asks, of course he does, and your heart squeezes tight in your chest.Â
You raise a brow, moving for another kiss, but he dodges you with a chuckle. You canât help but glare.Â
âThatâs not an answer, baby.â
âBeen soakinâ wet since you bitched out that asshole cop earlier,â you tease, raising one palm to trace down his chest. âThat an answer?â
He pauses for a moment, considering, then his expression breaks out into a sweet, cocky grin, and then heâs crushing his lips back on yours. He kisses you like heâs drowning and youâre the surface. Like he wants nothing more than to drink you down and swallow you whole. One arm loops around your waist, cradling you closer, spinning you until youâre caged between him and one of the cold, veneer-lined desks. His tongue slips between parted lips, exploring your mouth with a hunger that belies the tenderness of his touch.Â
âUp,â he murmurs between licks, tapping your hip with two calloused fingers, before hooking his hands under your thighs and lifting. You squeak, a sound that earns you the worldâs most panty-dropping snicker, your ass hitting the desk with a thud. The heat of your core contrasted by the cool surface sends a new spark of want through your system, left sizzling beneath layers of pesky fabric.
Hot, feverish kisses pepper your throat not a moment later, as he splays his palms over your thighs, nudging them apart until they bracket his hips. Massive hands hold you in place, heavy and warm and so damn close to where youâre aching for him. A shiver rips through you like lightning as his lips trail up your neck, soft and wet against heated skin. He finds that sensitive spot, the one just below your ear, lingering on it with slow, open-mouthed kisses, nipping gently before soothing the sting with a lap of his tongue. Sparks climb up your spine like a kindling fire, a poorly-stifled moan whirling from your lips.Â
Youâre already panting, heart slamming against your chest, your fingers sliding to tangle in his messy hair to keep him right where you want him. Your other hand drags swiftly down his front, pressing into the butter-soft expanse of his chest, finally palming at his belt with fingers that have already begun to tremble.Â
His lips disconnect with your neck with a sharp inhale as he straightens up, meeting your darkened gaze. You almost fucking whine at the loss.
âWoah, hey.â His large hand covers your wrist, not pushing you awayâthank Godâbut turning it over gently in his grasp, thumb sliding to rest over your racing pulse point. Even that simple touch has you squirming. âEasy, baby. âM gonna take real good care of you first, yeah?âÂ
Itâs sweet. Really sweet.
In fact, itâs so sweet, that your pussy clenches around nothing, and that simply wonât cut it. The only thing it really does is make you want him even more. As in, like, as soon as fucking possible. You pinch your eyes shut, forehead thumping against his chest, before looking back up at him with the most pleading look you can muster.Â
âSam. Sweetheart. Weâve got about fifteen minutes before Dean barges in here âcause heâs bored,â you argue, and the tight-lipped, almost shy look he gives you almost has you melting right there. âJust need you. Right now. Please.â
Sam swallows hard, pulse thumping so hard in his throat that you can practically see it. The man is quite literally vibrating with need, a shaky breath escaping him as his eyes drop from yours, traveling back to your kiss-bitten lips. If he was attempting to be nobly subtle, he unfortunately fails. Miserably.Â
ââŚI donât wanna hurt you,â he lands on, and itâs so Sam that you have to fight the primal urge to shut him up with another kiss.
âYou wonât.â
He opens his mouth again, probably to argue, or say something far too responsible for your liking, but instead, he loses. His mouth surges firmly back onto yours with such force that your head gets tilted back, and you let out your second embarrassing sound of the night, but he doesnât seem to mind one bit. His tongue shoves right back through the seam of your lips, licking hot against yours with such fever that the situation in your jeans starts to become a little unbearable.
âOkay,â he concedes, mostly to himself, tugging his belt open in one sharp movement that probably shouldnât make you nearly as stupid-horny as it does. You want to complain about not being able to do it yourselfâbut you forget every word of protest the second he tugs down his zipper, and your gaze lands on the throbbing bulge in his boxers.Â
Yup. Youâre going to be wet for fucking weeks.
âCâmere,â he purrs, his big, grabby hands scooping around your thighs, dragging you to the edge of the desk until you have to white-knuckle his shoulders to stay upright. He chuckles, the sound vibrating straight through you, his nimble fingers popping the button of your jeans, helping you to shimmy them away. You wiggle and squirm until they fall somewhere beneath Samâs feet, and he kicks them aside, taking a greedy handful of your now bare ass. âSo fuckinâ pretty.â
He latches his lips back just below the curve of your jaw, licking and suckling at your skin as his fingers squeeze hot over your thigh. Your eyes flutter closed, consumed by the arousal flooding your senses, and finally, fucking finally, you feel two thick fingers pull your ruined panties to the side.Â
The fabric peels from your core, sticking to your drenched pussy as Samâs fingers replace it swiftly, and oh, itâs electric. His breath comes faster than before, warm against your neck in punched-out puffs as your body reacts to him, arching into his touch. Two tough finger pads glide easily as he parts your folds, applying a ghost of pressure over your clit for one heavenly second before heâs circling your entrance. Youâre dripping. Clenching around fucking nothing. And stillâheâs teasing you slow with those unfairly hot dimples popping on his cheeks.
âSam,â you scold, but God, itâs weak. Real fucking weak. And when one finger dips into your weeping cunt, you damn near cry. âPlease, baby. Câmon...â
âShhhâŚâ he croons, sneaking a quick, mean kiss to the corner of your mouth. âJust makinâ sure youâre ready fâme.â
You donât get to complain before heâs adding another digit, curling just right, dragging across that spongy, fluttery spot inside you that has your eyes rolling back, and has a broken gasp tearing from your lips. Itâs like he intended to shut you up, and it absolutely worked.
âYou werenât kiddinâ about the cop thing, huh?â he teases, and you squeeze his fingers like some sort of warning. He full body shudders like youâve just done it around his dick. âSoaking wet. Mustaâ been a little uncomfortable, baby.â
âYou have no idea.â
Your twitchy fingers snake right back between the two of you, this time dipping below his waistband. Your fist circles around his thick cock, and you relish in the very sexy groan he spills into your ear. Heâs hard enough to hurt, leaking onto your palm, and he drags his fingers out of you just to help you free his throbbing dick in one quick movement. You canât help but ogle as you pump him once, twice, nudging that fat cockhead between your folds, his thumb holding the soaked gusset of your panties to the side.
âReady?â he asks, just one more time, those dark, blown pupils studying yours, glittering with arousal.Â
âShut up nâ fuck me already.â
Whatever hesitation he was holding onto snaps like a rubber band pulled too tight. He kisses you hard, a rough collision of teeth and tongue. One hand braces on the edge of the desk while the other guides his dick through your dripping pussy, collecting the slick thatâs practically caked to your core. When he finally presses forward, itâs slow. So damn slow.
So slow that you feel every bit of the delicious stretch, and his pulse pounds against you in more ways than one. Your back bows into the feeling as your chest presses against his, heat exploding through every nerve ending.
Youâre panting by the time you take half of him, and when heâs fully seated, you have to suck saliva back in through your teeth before you drool dumbly. Samâs thumb slides off from your panties, opting to splay his full hand along the expanse of your inner thigh, holding you as wide as you can go. The pressure in your belly coils so hot that for a moment, you wonder how the hell youâve survived over two weeks without this.Â
A groan rips out of him, unfiltered and raw, and the second it hits your ears, itâs already vibrated through his chest and yours alike. Samâs eyes slam shut for half a second like heâs just been electrocuted by the tight squeeze of your walls so perfectly around him. Itâs beautiful, really, a sight that would have you dripping if you werenât already. His jaw clenches hard, tendons standing out on his sweat-slick neck, fighting for control. His hips shift just slightly then, a gentle, testing rock that has fire licking up your spine.
âFuck, yes,â you gasp, fingers curling around his strong forearm. And oh, thatâs all he needed.
He pulls back gently, before snapping forward in a deep, enthusiastic roll. The desk creaks beneath you like itâs threatening to break, and suddenly, heâs not being so careful anymore.Â
You wiggle in his grasp, a plea for more, and he doesnât spare a single moment. He scoops one leg up high over his waist, hips canting into you with a new kind of fever. The pace he sets is dizzying, desperate, damn-near sob worthy, his thick cock splitting you in half so fucking perfectly that stars explode behind your eyelids. Each thrust presses you harder into the desk, his breath huffing ragged against your neck. You reach for him instinctively, fingers splaying everywhere you can reach, taking greedy fistfuls of Sam.Â
âYâtake me so well,â he chokes, as he leans back to fuck you in powerful, measured strokes, driving you higher and higher with every slap of skin. His muscled abdomen clenches taut as arousal pulls at his belly, and you can feel the tension beneath your palm. âSoâso fuckinâ good, just for me.â
White-hot pleasure crashes through you in waves with every ruthless pound. You barely have it in you to hold yourself upright, raising your hands so your fingers can dimple hard into the meat of Samâs shoulder for even the slightest lick of leverage. Your cunt sucks him in like it was made to, the heavy upward curve of his cock brushing right fucking there, over and over and oh fuck, you can only hope the room is soundproof.Â
âS-Sam, donâ stop, p-pleaseââ
Gasps and moans and pleas tear from deep in your chest, ecstasy bubbling through you so hot, that you have to bury your face in the crook of Samâs neck before you wake up the entire city.Â
He hums into your hair, a smooth, comforting rumble, such a contrast to the way his cock bullies your sweet spot with every brutal thrust. Your lips find his throat, sucking sloppy kisses to his heated skin, but busying your mouth sure as hell doesnât stop the string of cries from spilling into his ear.
âOh, baby,â he coos, one arm slipping around your back to tangle in your hair, holding you tight to his chest. It leaves little space between you, if any at allâhis hips snapping in quick, short thrusts that hit so deep that you swear you can taste it. âFeels so good, doesnâ it? So full? Thaâs what you needed, huh?â
âMmm-hmm,â you manage, but itâs broken. So broken. Itâs hard to remain coherent when youâre being fucked dumb, and Sam isnât exactly leaving room for mercy. He squeezes his hand between you, thumb finding your clit with expert-level accuracy, and suddenly, youâre done.
Youâre right there. Right fucking there. You tumble closer, closer, closer, until youâre teetering on the edge, dangling off, Samâs perfect fingers and his perfect cock about to push you over, andâ
âWhat the hell?!â
The sharp, deep voice of Dean-fucking-Winchester stops your orgasm cold like a silver blade slicing through flesh. Shock tears through you as you squeeze Sam tighter than a vice. His hips snap forward hard, way too fucking hard, his body enveloping yours as his palm slaps over your mouth to muffle your forced-out cry.
Samâs torso practically crushes yours, sparing most of your dignity (thank God for those damn shoulders), your forehead thumping against his chest as his hand slips from your face. Your heart pounds like a snare drum against your ribcage, the strangest combination of sexual frustration and utter mortification washing through your veins.
âGet. Out,â Sam barks, quick, his strained voice sharp as he turns his head towards his brother. Youâre suddenly incredibly thankful for your hasteâbecause, hey, at least Samâs jeans never made it below his waistâbut yours sure as hell did, and your only cover is Samâs body. You tilt your head just enough to peek through the sliver between Samâs arm and his side, and oh. Oh God.
Youâve never seen Dean look like that before.
Heâs white as a fucking sheet, and if you werenât completely horrified, it would probably be hilarious. Standing in the doorway, he looks entirely scandalized, jaw hanging wide open, eyes threatening to pop right out of his skull, before he snaps out of it long enough to throw a hand over his eyes, turning his head away.Â
âYeah, Iâdonât you think Iâd freakinâ love to?â he spits, shaking his head like heâs seconds away from losing his mind completely. âI mean, Jesus, what are you two, high schoolers? Youâd thinkââ
âDean,â you choke, and Sam flinches like heâd forgotten you were there entirely. Which, well, is unlikely, considering the fact that heâs still buried to the hilt inside of you.
âWeâve gotta go. Now. Apparently my, uh, alarm disarming skills are pretty rusty,â he stammers, the hand that isnât covering his eyes reaching for the door. âPut your freakinâ pants on, and go. Thereâs goddamn cops outside.â
Well, shit.
If that isnât just worst case scenario, youâre not entirely sure what is.Â
He finally stomps out of the room, muttering an irritated âseriously!â as he goes, and the second he does, a long puff of air floods from your lungs in a ragged sweep. Every cell in your body is practically vibrating for you just crawl in a hole, and never returnâbut thereâs another part of you thatâs just pissed. Because Christ, after waiting so fucking long, is a little bit of relief really that much to ask for?
Youâre busy wallowing in your newfound despair, attempting to shuffle your ass backwards to get up, when two warm palms plant firmly on your cheeks, tilting your face up to look at his. Samâs eyes are wide, undoubtedly panicked, brows pinched so hard that a sharp crease has formed between them.Â
âFuckââm so sorry. Are youâyou okay?â His thumbs swipe at the sweat beading at your temples, touch gentle now, fingers shaking where they cradle your face. âDid I hurt you?â
âWhat? Iâm fine, Sam,â you grumble, but that sure as hell doesnât ease the look of pure concern on his sweet face. Still, you push yourself back just a little more, and he takes the hint, pulling out so tenderly that you barely even hiss at the feeling. ââŚPhysically, anyway.â
âYouâre sure? I just, Jesus, just fuckinâ manhandled you, baby.â
Somehow, that makes you laugh despite everything. âPass me my jeans,â you snicker, and he moves quickly, following your command without another word. His free hand fumbles with the zipper of his pants, and you hop off the table on wobbly legs.Â
But that fire in your core?
Apparently, a two-week dry spell turns you completely insatiable.
Sam stands again, passing you your now wrinkled jeans. But instead of taking them back right away, your hand lifts, curling around his collar again, pulling him close until only a lick of distance remains between your lips.
âWeâre not done,â you whisper, and God, you watch his pupils swallow all colour in his eyes in real time.
ââŚLater?â he purrs.
âLater.â
AN: So, Iâd actually planned to post something else, and then got distracted and wrote this in a couple of hours. My bad. Needed something fun đ¤Ł
Iâm going to take this opportunity to apologize for my very, very slow writing skills⌠there is so much going on in my life right now, itâs driving me crazy, and I canât focus on my word porn as much as Iâd love to. But hey, gimme a couple weeks, trust the process!
