Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction, all similarities to persons living or dead are purely coincidental. I own nothing of the SN franchise
Summary: Dean's drinking himself to the bottom of the whiskey bottle and Sam wants to prove he can be as bad as Dean.
Archive: Please ask first
Feedback: as always, yes please but no nits or shreds thanks
Author's Notes: I desperately wanted some Sam smut but alls I could find was Sam/Dean WINCEST – which I like, but wasn't fulfilling my immediate needs. So, with Amy's word prompts, I came up with this.
Prompts: Sensual, relaxed, ironic, stoic, chiseled, delectable
Sam could be bad, too.
He could be as bad as Dean any day.
And he was going to prove it if it killed him, which it might.
They'd been weeks on the road and Dean had been feeling a little antsy lately and had called for some R&R time. Sam couldn't begrudge him that. Not tonight. The anniversary of Dad's death and all.
It's not like he actually cared if they were together tonight or anything. Okay, that was a lie but he knew Dean well enough to know that if Dean wanted to be alone, he was best left that way. When Sam had left the room, Dean had been a quarter of the way down a bottle of whiskey and the rest was on a promise. He endured the pain of his many wounds – physical and emotional - with great stoicism.
That's how come Sam came to be sat in this quiet bar, making eye contact with every available woman he could. Twice now he'd made eye contact with the 'wrong' woman. They might be free to flirt but their boyfriend's didn't agree, and Sam only wanted company for the night, not trouble.
It was pretty damn ironic that he'd had the best hook-up teacher ever and yet the only thing Sam seemed capable of pulling was unavailability. He sighed and tipped his bottle of beer at the female bar tender and she smiled back knowingly.
A fresh bottle appears in front of him. Its dark curves luring him seductively, droplets of water shimmying down its sides. Sam picks it up and runs his tongue around the rim before taking a long hard swallow if it's contents.
"You know, in some states, you can get arrested for being that sexual with a bottle of beer," a honeyed voice corrupted his thoughts.
He looked up to see the relaxed smile of the bar tender, noticing for the first time that night just how green her eyes were, and how pretty the smattering of freckles across her nose were.
Laughing, he tipped her a wink and wondered if the night wasn't wasted after all.
"So tell me, what's a good-looking kid like you doing in a shit-hole like this?" She asked him, wiping down the bar with a cloth. "Your girlfriend stood you up or something?"
"Or something. No girlfriend. Just passing through," he smiled, peeling the label off the bottle in his hand. Killing time. Marking the passing of my stubborn father who sold his soul for that of my brother, who's sulking back at the hotel room with a bottle of whiskey.
"I find that hard to believe," she told him, fixing her sparkling green stare on him as if she could see inside him.
"What? That I'm passing through?"
"No girlfriend. A delectable young thing like you without a girlfriend? Surely not?" She teased him, the side of her mouth curved up in a wickedly salacious grin.
"Well, you know, I never seem to stay in one place for long enough to get a girlfriend," he answered. He liked the way her eyes crinkled up at the sides, giving away her naughty side. Sure, she was older than him but he liked her easy way of talking.
"That must suck. Listen, I gotta serve other customers but just shout if you need another beer." And she moved down the bar to serve some random guy.
But Sam's eyes never left her. The sensual curves of her body clad in a long, flowing kind of skirt and fitted sleeveless shirt made his mouth water. They emphasized everything feminine about her, from the shape of her hips to the swell of her breasts.
For the next hour, that's how they flirted with each other – a few snatched sentences between customers, until it came close to closing time and one of the other staff said something to her and her face fell.
"Everything ok?" Sam asked.
"Yeah. My ride home isn't my ride home any longer," she sighed.
Sam thought for a whole second, "I can walk you home, if you like. I'm completely trustworthy." But his face said otherwise, and he knew it.
"That's a shame. I was hoping you'd turn out to be thoroughly untrustworthy indeed. But I'll take you up on the offer of the walk home. You never know what nasties lurk in the shadows," she winked. "Name's Bex, you can call me Rebecca is you like, but it won't do you any good."
"Okay Bex," Sam rolled the name over his tongue and decided it suited her much better than Rebecca – which made her sound like she should either be working in a library or something. "Sam." He held out his hand politely and smiled when she shook it.
"Let me just grab my coat and purse, and then I'm all yours."
Her laugh had the effect of making his blood surge to parts of his body that made it hard to walk. Her words left him panting. It had been way too long since their last R&R break.
They slipped out of the side door and out into the alleyway behind the bar. Not a pleasant place for a woman to be by herself, and Bex was more than glad that the hot, chiseled guy had offered to walk her home. She'd had the hots for him the moment she had set eyes on him. Tall, dark, brooding, eyes that seemed to bore into her very soul, and good looks that should be outlawed on a man.
"Is it far?" he was asking her. Sam. That's what he said his name was. Sam. He looked like a Sam.
"No, just a couple of blocks," she answered, taking a sideways glance at him. Geez, he must be well over a foot taller than she was, but she always did like tall men. He was younger than she was but that never bothered Bex. He looked like he could manage her. He looked like he had enough stamina for both of them.
She'd been lonely long enough, but the regulars in the bar did nothing for her. And normally her faithful old battery operated buddy was enough for her. That was until she set eyes on the delectable Sam, who seemed to scream pure, unadulterated sex at her every time he looked at her.
It didn't take long for them to reach her apartment building. Nor did it take long for Bex to invite Sam in, or for Sam to accept. Neither was necessary, but polite nonetheless.
By the time her door was closed and locked firmly into place, they were all over each other. Mouths firmly pressed together, lips melding, tongues exploring, dancing, tangling.
Jackets fell to the floor. Boots and sandals kicked off. Hands frantically searching each other's bodies, attempting buttons without any form of dexterity. Bex lifted off her feet, legs wrapped around his hips, arms tight around his neck and hands buried in his soft curls.
A groan from somewhere deep down inside Sam and they realize unless they take this to the bedroom, they'll be doing it up against the door. Between frantic kisses, he manages to grunt out the word, "Bedroom?"
"Back there," she managed to reply, pointing, before his tongue was back inside her mouth and his groin pushed heatedly into her, hard and achingly large.
Sam carried her down the small hallway as if she weighed nothing more than a bag of flour – which she didn't to him. The feel of her in his arms was almost relief enough. The heat from her body flooded his, filling him with a deep sense of urgency to get her naked and under him, on him, around him.
The room, from what little he could see in the dark, was clean, feminine and inviting. Thin slivers of moonlight slipped in through the lats of the blind and highlighted the gleam of her eyes as he slowly and reluctantly set her down on the floor.
Sam came up behind her, letting his hands slowly run the length of her arms. Bex could feel his breath brush her neck, sending shockwaves of shivers down her spine.
Moving her hair away from her neck; Sam's calloused fingertips set her skin alight. He felt her shudder. She felt his lips, feather light, kissing her neck. His hands explored what he had waited all night to touch, moving over her hips, tracing the soft curve of her stomach and cupping her ass in his hands.
Sam moved away from her, turned her round in his arms until she faced him again and kissed her again. He felt her melt into his body, one hand placed in the middle of his shoulder blades and he other, softly placed against the back of his head, hand buried in the shaggy curls.
Again, his fingers tried to work the buttons on her shirt, desperately needing for her to be naked. He felt her hands at his pants, deftly undoing his belt and then popping the buttons one by one until his pants hung loosely on his hips.
Grabbing the hem of his shirt, he pulled it over his head and dropped it where it fell. He watched as her fingers worked the buttons on her blouse, like an over-eager schoolboy waiting for his first glimpse of a naked woman. It had been a while.
When the entirety of their clothes had been shed, and Bex's eyes had lustfully taken in every inch of Sam's body, Sam lifted her against him and pushed her back against the wall in one smooth move. If he knew her better, he'd never make it to the bed but fuck her here against the wall. Raw energy poured out of him as the need inside him reached fever pitch.
He ground his cock against the dampness between the thighs as their mouths became a tangle of teeth and swollen lips. Just one more thrust against her and he'd be inside her and he didn't want that yet. He wanted more than a quickie against the wall. He wanted all night.
Bex couldn't keep her hands off him. In his clothes, he'd seemed plain lanky and on the slim side. But now she had him naked, she was amazed at the muscles that had sat silently beneath the many layers he'd worn. Well defined abs framed by strong shoulders leading to biceps that held her up firmly and seemingly effortlessly.
But it was the hungry gaze in his eyes that had her breathless. Or maybe it was the way his mouth literally devoured hers. Or maybe, and most likely, it was the sensation of his cock rubbing her wet pussy roughly, teasing her clit with each slide against her.
His lips left hers and seared a wet trail down her neck, teeth biting down on the soft skin there, making her cry out from the pain. But he didn't stop, didn't apologize, just kept on biting her until his mark tainted her skin just above the collarbone. Proof that he'd been there.
He wanted to touch her, taste her. He craved tasting her so much. Nothing came close to the dizzying heights of a woman's taste. Turning, he carefully lowered her into the center of the bed and then stood, watching her, memorizing every lush curve of her body for fuel when he and Dean hit the road again – which would be way too soon.
Bex felt the bed dip when he knelt on it beside her, and then moments later, his hair tickled her as he dipped his head to suckle at one perfect dark pink and very hard nipple. From the soft mewling noises he was making in the back of his throat, he was enjoying it as much as she was.
Fingertips traced the under-curve of each breast in turn, making circles around the tender flesh while his tongue circled each nipple in turn. Sucking, biting, nibbling until Bex writhed beneath him on the sheets, panting and begging him for more.
Letting his fingers trace down over her belly, dipping into her belly button and then trailing down to the soft hairs at the apex of her thighs. Dampness coated his fingertips as they slid between her lips and found her clit.
Small circles across the hard nub of nerves and Bex's back arched up off the bed. She begged and pleaded with Sam for more, for his touch. He ignored her pleas to fuck her quickly before she went out of her mind. Every now and again, though, letting his fingers slip into her welcoming pussy, stroking her tender flesh.
In and out… thrusting and retreating… the sweet slide inside her… caressing her secret spot until she clamped down on his fingers… shuddering… sighing… crying out his name… coming so hard her body came off the bed… hands wrapped around her hips, holding her… needing her now…
He couldn't trust himself to talk as he scrambled on the floor for his jeans and the packet of condoms he'd brought at the drugstore earlier in anticipation of the evening turning out like this.
Hating to leave the wet warmth of her body, but having to to put on the condom, Sam moved quickly, rolling it down his suppliant cock before moving back between her spread thighs and plunging himself deep inside her.
With her legs wrapped around his hips and her hands tight around his biceps. The soft tips of his curls tickled her chin as he dipped his head to kiss her as he rocks in and out of her tight pussy. His hands slid under her arms and gripped her shoulders. Their hot, damp bodies joined from hip to chest. Rocking… thrusting… pounding… seeking release… finding pleasure…
She was so close and he could feel it, the steady throb of her wet heat wrapped around him, pulsing, vibrating, contracting… spasming… coming… blinding emotion wrapped in an orgasm…
Bex cried out, her body no longer in her control. Pleasure, mixed with pain, rippled through her entire body. Stars danced behind her closed eyes. Electricity pulsed through her veins from the force that overtook her. She rode out his final thrusts, wanting and needing whatever he could give her before he disappeared again.
They lay, side by side, breathless, boneless. No words, no touching, just feeling…
He wanted to say 'thanks' but couldn't bring himself to demean the moment with a single word, so he left the bed and grabbed his fallen clothes, dressed quickly.
He was in the doorway when she called his name, scribbling something on a small notepad. Her number… for if he ever was passing through again… he didn't want it, but took it anyway.
Sam always takes the offered phone numbers, because he's Sam and no matter how hard he tries, he just can't be as bad as Dean.
He's not sure he can ever be as bad as Dean no matter how hard he tried.
He's not sure he wants to be anymore.