feeling bored, you tapped your nails against the door armrest. you looked around at the trees. you sat up to see the lake in the near distance, the sun glistening off the ripples. you poked the fuzzy dice hanging from his rear view mirror. you rummaged through his glove compartment…

… and your brows shot up upon seeing a black pistol buried under documents and condoms.

you glanced over to see if he’d caught you snooping. his brows were still furrowed as he rolled the joint over the steering wheel. utterly enraptured by his weed. you smirked, feeling suddenly mischievous. with great care, you gently retrieved the firearm.

“put it down.” his voice rang beside you.

you tensed, suddenly feeling like a scolded child, then smiled faintly. you didn’t put it down. you treated it delicately, of course, purposely avoiding the trigger as you examined it. the metal was cool and heavy in your hand. “why is it in here?”

“needs to be,” he said simply. then, he took the gun from you, grabbing it by the barrel. he set it muzzle down in the empty cup holder between you before focusing his attention back to the blunt.

you tilted your head, unsatisfied, and stated matter-of-factly, “you’re indestructible.”

“you’re not.”

you raised a brow again, intrigued. “so it’s for me.”

“for assholes.”

“my hero.”

ben looked over at you then, sizing you up, half impressed, half perpetually annoyed.

“have you ever even been this close to a roscoe?”

you looked through your lashes. “… once or twice.”

that got his attention. he lowered the unfinished joint in his lap, looking you over again, his keen green eyes following a steady path down your figure. ben paused for a long moment, as if he was assessing you.

“when?”

“fourth of july.”

“what’d you shoot?” he sounded nearly fascinated. never in a million years would ben have guessed you did something like that. you were always such a sissy.

“the ground,” you confessed timidly.

the sharp sound of his laughter broke the peacefulness of nature surrounding you. his shoulders bounced, he tipped his head back against the headrest, and his eyes crinkled at the corners. he licked his lips and muttered something like jesus christ as he settled down, shaking his head and bringing the joint back up to work on again.

“you’re a card.” he stated. he gave the joint a final lick, pressing the paper down flush with the pads of his thumbs. he inspected it carefully before tucking it in his shirt pocket. he pushed his aviators back down, wearing them properly, hiding his eyes. “get out.”

you blinked, watching him open his door, grab the pistol, and step out of the car all in one motion. after a moment of hesitation, you followed.

he beckoned you over with a finger, his gun in his back pocket. ben’s hand snaked around your waist when you were close enough and he leaned against the hood of his car. he thumbed your hip and raised his hand, moving it to follow the horizon.

your eyes followed. the lake’s shore lapped at the dirt a few respectable paces away, the water slightly murky. surrounding you, conifers and hardwood cast sparse shadows. their leaves occasionally swayed with the soft breeze, and the unmistakable smell of sap comforted you in a strange way.

his voice recaptured your attention. “pick a tree.”

you looked over at him, a surge of disbelief passing through you. he really trusted you enough to do this?

you shook your head. “i don’t wanna shoot a tree.”

ben rolled his eyes. “hippie,” he muttered, reaching into another pocket of his. he pulled out his cherry rolling papers and ripped two out- then crumpled them into little balls. you blinked in surprise at the sacrifice of two perfectly good rolling papers.

“put these in your ears,” he commanded. and so you did. the sounds of the lake’s waves, the chirping of the birds, the swish of tree branches brushing against each other muffled.

without warning, he grabbed your waist in both hands, and yanked you in front of him. with his chest flush against your back, he wrapped an arm around your middle and fished his pistol out of his pocket. he brought it out to show off.

you knew not to reach for it. he turned it in his hands. his chin brushing against the back of your head. “this bitch’s no joke, you hear me, doll?”

you nodded. he grunted in approval, then flipped the gun back, left side up. he flicked the safety off, keeping the nose pointed to the ground.

gently, ben’s hand smoothed across your stomach, to your hip, and up your side. he trailed his palm over your forearm and down to your hand. being this close to him, you could hear each little inhale and exhale of his. you could feel his breath brush against your ear. you fought the urge to shiver, especially when his hand found yours. he lifted it and guided it to hold the grip of the gun, adjusting your fingers to stay clear of the trigger.

his hand wrapped firmly around yours, keeping your fingers temporarily disabled, the gun still pointed to the dirt. he squeezed your hand, and you felt something click beneath your palm. your heart raced.

“that was the grip safety,” he said, his voice calm. you nodded once, relaxing.

his other hand gestured in front of you, to a dead tree stump about sixty feet away, maybe four feet tall. it sat unimposing at the opposite shore of the lake, gray and peeling bark, surrounded by its living kin.

“see that stump?”

you nodded.

“aim for that.”

“… okay.”

his grip around your hand on the gun remained. you felt the grainy surface of the grip on your skin. his other hand moved, guiding your left hand to the gun in the same fashion he did the other. ben hummed in approval as he fixed your hands over the grip.

wordlessly, he guided your arms up, the gun still snug inside your fingers. he straightened your arms outright, then maneuvered your right index finger to rest gently on the trigger guard.

“don’t move your finger yet,” he said, his voice in your ear. you swallowed.

his hands left yours, leaving the breeze to brush over them, the coldness emphasizing the loss. he ran his hands slowly up your wrists, to the sensitive skin of the inside of your elbows, and he stopped to hold your biceps. he kept his feet planted firmly outside yours, his broad chest flush against your back.

you pressed your thighs together, his touch molding, and you avoided exhaling too shakily. though, you were almost certain he could hear your pounding heart. just the thought of his awareness made your cheeks flush.

“now…” he let go of one of your arms, his chin by your ear. he gently tapped the small, triangular-shaped bump on top of the pistol once, the one closest to your eye; then the bump further away, on the very tip of the barrel.

“sights. front and rear. as you can see, front is a post, rear is a notch. you line ‘em up both horizontally and vertically, at the center of that stump… and you’ve got your aim.”

you squeezed one eye shut to line the sights up, doing your best to center them as he instructed on the awaiting stump. he shifted, leaning over to look at your face, assessing briefly. he smiled faintly.

“now, i know that might feel right, sweets, but it’s better to keep both those pretty eyes open.”

his voice was cogent. you quickly reopened your eye, exhaling. you could hear the faintest of chuckles leave him.

he licked his lips and slid his hands up back to yours on the gun. one held both of yours in place securely, and the other reached to grab his gun by the barrel, between the sights. he slid the slide back, exposing the metal barrel underneath, and it made a clicking noise that made your brows furrow. he let it go, covering the barrel once again.

“she’s cocked. don’t you move a muscle till i tell you to.”

he found his place behind you again, his chest against you. he squeezed your shoulders gently before he smoothed his rough hands down your upper back, over the ridge of your bra, down to the dip of your waist. you blinked slowly, your eyes darting momentarily to the ground, then back up. you knew you needed to focus, not let his carnal touch divert your attention.

he ran his thumbs back and forth over your waist. his hands were warm and unmoving, and you couldn’t help but notice he kept your ass pressed firm against his hips, the print of his dick faint but felt. it made your breath hitch, but you remained planted against him. and when you heard a rough, faint groan leave his lips right in your ear? you wanted to ditch this whole shooting lesson.

when he spoke again, his voice was considerably softened. but it still made your heart skip. it pulled you back into what this was supposed to be. “you can put your finger on the trigger now, but do not put pressure on it.”

you swallowed again, nodding, regrouping, and you moved your finger carefully off the guard and onto the cool trigger. it was a strange sense of power. one pull and a killing stone would come out at 800 feet per second.

“atta girl. don’t pull yet. take your time, give yourself at least half a minute to aim. then you fire.”

you held the gun pointed where you wanted, taking slow, shuddering breaths, heeding his words. he trusted your judgment, the good head on your shoulders. you’re not so reckless to fire when you’re not confident. and you’re listening so well to each of his instructions.

you lined up the sights, acquiring yourself a good shot, but damn if his closeness didn’t make you blush. as if sensing your temperament at the moment, ben nuzzled his half hard cock against your ass with a slow exhale, causing you to gasp faintly.

your chest sank, about to lower the gun. but he spoke again, this time whispering gravelly. “now… shoot when you want. it’s gonna recoil, and it’s gonna recoil pretty fuckin hard, so be prepared for that.”

he lowered his hands from your waist to grip your hips. the feeling made you breathe uneven, just one short breath that didn’t escape his notice. he smiled, but for once didn’t point it out. not now. he held you tight, not letting you move even an inch away. having your precious self this close was too good to not take advantage of. just feeling your body heat seep into his sent blood straight down. he breathed heavy through his nose, right in your ear, and he gave your hips a gentle squeeze.

you pulled, and a loud bang- one you didn’t anticipate to be so booming because of the rolling papers- rang out when you applied pressure to the trigger. and not even half a second later, the sound of the bullet hitting the stump met your ears. just as he said, the recoil shoved you back. right into him.

tree branches shook as birds fled from them, and you gasped loud. his arm came around you immediately, and ben snatched the gun from your hands harshly by the barrel, quickly flicking something on it down with a click. you heard his laughter in your ear, your heart pounding.

“ha-ha! fuck, baby, you hear that? you hit that shit dead fuckin’ center. that’s my girl.”

he tucked the gun away, adjusting you forcefully to face him. his grin was unmoving, plastered on his face shamelessly. he gave you a shake as he laughed, and after getting your bearings, you finally sighed in relief. you smiled coyly, your hand bracing against his chest. and when you saw your stunned reflection in his sunglasses lenses, you finally laughed alongside him.

“i hit it?”

“did you hit it? yeah, you fuckin’ hit it,” he rubbed your arm, ruffling your clothes. he pointed to the stump. “see for yourself.”

you looked over, narrowing your eyes to see better. sure enough, near the center of the trunk, a hole from the bullet was marked. you picked the balled up rolling papers out of your ears. you let out a disbelieving laugh, grinning, feeling a twinge of pride for yourself. you just shot a gun and hit your target.

you were pulled out of your thoughts by a large hand smacking your ass, the slap causing you to freeze. his laugh deepened by your ear, his arm around you caging. he adjusted you in front of him, practically manhandling you, your hair catching in the wind.

your face fell at the proximity. your chest pressed flush against his made eye contact difficult. but ben hooked his finger under your chin, his other hand sliding down to grip your ass and pull you even closer. that’s when you registered it. him, the hard bulge of his cock straining against his jeans, pressing into your hip. your eyes widened.

“my little sharpshooter,” he said fondly. he leaned in to kiss you roughly, his teeth knocking against yours. it was as brief as it was aggressive, and it left you breathless and squirming.

he grinned, plucking the joint he rolled out of his shirt pocket, taking it between his lips. his other hand found your ass again, and with half lidded eyes, ben rutted his cock against you, just once. enough to make you gasp.

“now, why don’t you be a good girl and bend over this hood for me?”

and fuck if your soft little reassurances, those shh, it’s okay, Sam, just breathe, i’m right heres don’t get him hard. they always have, even when he knew it was wrong to get boners in the middle of libraries when you’d be there, whispering so sweetly for him to relax after getting overwhelmed by the inordinate amount of research he had to sift through.

only this time he wouldn’t exactly hide his bulge in his hands or with a book. instead, Sam whined, no longer scared of his own dream, pressing his giant frame into yours, and that thing poking your hip? it wasn’t his belt buckle.

he’d sigh, so dramatic, and whine your name, which sent heat straight down low in your stomach. your breath hitching spurred him further, and his hands squeezed your waist as they explored your torso.

he never really let his hands wander too far- always too afraid of putting you off, scaring you away.

but you wanted this. connection. he could smell it on you. you let out a soft moan when he cupped your breast and squeezed it, your legs entangling with his, already equally restless and needy under the comforter.

his lips followed the path his hand carved, kissing your skin, his shuddering breath fanning across to give you goosebumps. when you whispered his name in that way.. he couldn’t hold back any longer.

Sam began tugging your shirt off with trembling hands, still sensitive to your reactions just in case. his hazel eyes looked for yours, but they didn’t meet. you were looking away. more specifically, at Dean’s sleeping form on the other bed. Sam could sense your unease and worry, so he backed off with a sad little sigh, collapsing back against you, burying his face in your neck once more. you’re right, it’s probably not a good idea to fool around with his brother right there.

but you frowned. stopping isn’t what you wanted. before he could sulk too much, you lifted Sam’s chin up before capturing his lips in a kiss.

he reciprocated, his hand finding your waist again, his lips parting against yours. you pulled back too soon, so he leaned in to chase your mouth, only to feel your hand grab his jaw.

“do you think you’re okay?” you asked. in reference to his nightmare, of course. he needed to be in the right headspace for.. this. this shouldn’t be an impulsive distraction. a second passed, just one, before he nodded.

“now i am. i promise. you made it better. please…” he adjusted, shifting to be halfway on top of you to kiss you again. you didn’t pull back, kissing him just as sloppy and desperate.

his breath caught when he felt your leg hike up over his hip, and he didn’t hesitate to press closer. he let out a soft groan into your mouth as he pushed himself flush against you, pressing his erection against your crotch. not yet grinding, just a small search for friction and relief. and he was already gone.

you smiled after pulling away from his lips. “so, i made it better?”

Sam just grinned against your chin, exhaling with a trace of laughter. “you always do.”

“do i?” you kissed his forehead. he couldn’t answer verbally. instead, he nodded, finding his place in your neck again. then, just barely, his shoulders and chest began to shake lightly. quick breaths against your skin. he was giggling, tucking his face against you to muffle the sound.

you stole a glance across the room again, just to check. just to be sure. nothing. only then did you allow yourself to exhale, leering alongside him. “what’s so funny?”

“i don’t know.”

it simply made you laugh harder. you smacked your hand over your mouth, encouraging the fit of giggles. you leaned into him in return, pressing your body flush against his. you felt him again. it. he did too, and his hand squeezed your waist, his amusement dying down. the hand over your mouth moved and slipped into his hair. he blinked.

“i’m sorry, i don’t mean to wake you up and rope you into my… stupid… stuff.”

“don’t. you sound silly.”

you didn’t wait for a response before leaning in again, finding home in his lips against yours. and Sam, for all that low self esteem, couldn’t deny himself this. you. you hadn’t moved from your place, your leg still secured around his hip. his tongue parted your lips and delved into your mouth to find yours. your moan vibrated against his lips and inspired him on. he smiled again, but nothing was exactly funny anymore. more curious.

he moved his hips again, grinding into you, just an inch. not a full roll of his hips. enough to make him shudder. you pulled your hand out of his hair, smoothing it down his back, over his hip, until finally you cautiously, curiously brushed your fingers over his bulge.

he broke away from your mouth with a gasp, one that should’ve been muffled. Sam immediately realized his error and turned his head to hide against your shoulder. you could see the corner of his bashful smile.

another quick glance confirmed your inconspicuousness. you rubbed his bulge, your palm flat against his cock, your smile mischievous. and Sam’s mouth opened wide as he exhaled, his breath seeping into your sleeve. he pushed his hips forward into your hand, encouraging more friction.

“that feels good,” he confessed breathily, grinning. you found a slow rhythm, rubbing his bulge as he grinded into your hand, rutting his hips and panting like a dog in heat. your leg squeezed around his hip, your cunt clenching around nothing at just hearing his little desperate breaths and mewls.

his hand found your ass to grip, as if he knew of your gripes with the absence of stimulation yourself. your breath stuttered, coming in short as he squeezed the fat of your ass with a passion you hadn’t met before.

Sam’s hand trailed lower, slipping between your legs, following the curve of your ass into the dip of your cunt. there, his fingers met two layers of fabric. your skimpy little sleep shorts, and your panties. he didn’t hesitate to slip his hand past one of the gaping leg holes of your shorts, and he dragged his fingers over the damp fabric of your underwear. it drew a whimper from you, which made his hips buck forward again into your hand.

your eyes fluttered open, searching for his when you felt his head move away from your shoulder. meeting gazes, your blush deepened, and you both stifled laughter. your eyes flicked down to his bulge, then his big hand stroking across your clothed slit with aching slowness. it made you lose your breath again.

you pulled the waistband of his flannel pajamas down over his boxers, and his hips squirmed under you. there was a small wet patch as the top of the expanse of his print, his own arousal mirroring yours. you smiled wider and peeled away his boxers, eyes widening at the slow unveiling of his cock.

Sam whimpered, his fingers pressed firmly against your clit over your panties, unmoving. right now all he could focus on is your touch. and your judgement. his chest heaved and he pulled his hand away from your cunt, moving it back to your hip to squeeze out of sheer anticipation and impatience. his other arm, around your back? it pulled you closer.

his coy smile returned and he looked down at your hand undressing him. “i’m nervous…”

your smile remained, your heart melting. “that’s okay. i am too…” you kissed his forehead again, eliciting another faint giggle from him. one you returned.

you waited a moment. a small one to regroup. you each needed it. only when he exhaled and ran his thumb across your hip did you resume. after pushing his underwear down, you smoothed your hand down his cock, your palm flat against his twitching shaft: a slow, descending motion.

Sam groaned, the precious sound feathering out into a whine. your soft skin against him, finally. it made him choke on air as you granted him this ounce of relief.

he thrusted forward into your hand, clutching your shirt with one hand and fisting the fabric of your panties with the other. you swallowed, and moved your shaky hand back up to gently wrap around him.

his cock was heavy. so big and desperate. you brushed your thumb across the slit of his tip, smearing his precum around his head, and Sam could only moan into your shoulder, giving another weak thrust forward.

your smile remained, and you pushed your fist down, giving him one unhurried stroke. then, back up to elicit another whimper from him.

it was heaven for him. Sam had to remind himself to breathe. so when you picked up the pace and began stroking him in a tantalizing, leisurely pace? Sam’s chest shook again with labored, bated breathing. he pressed closer again, nuzzling your neck as he moved his hips in sync with your hand, fucking your fist desperately, pathetically.

he moaned against your skin, his jaw tense yet slackened, his eyes squeezed shut. his palm splayed flat against your back, holding you firm against him as his other hand grasped your ass again.

he whispered your name between strokes, whining as the tip of his cock brushed between the two of you. it was all too much, so not even a minute passed before his hips began to stutter as he started to buck into your hand erratically. he knew if you kept on like this, things would end very soon. embarrassingly soon.

he reached down and wrapped his hand around yours to slow you to a stop, not without bitterness. he strained into your neck, his hips twitching on their own, and he let out a defeated sigh. he let go of your hand and took just a moment to cool off, finally reemerging from your neck. he was flushed and a thin sheen of sweat covered his forehead as he panted, looking up at you desperately.

“it feels so good…” he confessed. “too good. i can’t keep up. let me..” he moved his hand back between your thighs, his fingers finding their place on your covered slit.

you gasped softly, rocking your hips against his fingers. the relief was instant and addictive. your hand squeezed his cock, pulling another whimper from him. Sam’s brows knitted up desperately as he looked up at you, his lips parted as he breathed heavily, his chest pounding. he whined something reminiscent of your name before the sound was cut short by your kiss.

your tongue pushed into his mouth and you stroked his cock again, slowly and prudently. Sam moaned into your mouth as he fucked your hand again, needy and wanton, rubbing your clit through your panties.

and when he moved his trembling hand to shove inside your underwear, you couldn’t help the startled gasp that left you as his fingers came into full contact with your pussy. he groaned against your chin, brushing his fingers along your glistening slit, swiping roughly at your clit.

“does that feel good?”

you nodded immediately. “fuck. yes, Sam…”

your other hand fisted in his hair, causing his breath to hitch again, his cock leaking more precum. you lifted your leg higher against his hip, opening for him. your voice was soft, a small don’t stop Sam. he could only say yes.

he was getting close again. and fuck there was nothing more he wanted than to cum with you. he clenched his teeth and sped up his pace, his fingers relentless on your clit. you couldn’t help but moan and smush your mouth against his shoulder. your whispered words of encouragement and praise went straight to his cock. he smiled that toothy grin briefly as he nodded, his other hand on your back still caging you against him.

your little moans and whimpers were the softest things his ears heard. the precious sounds made his hips stutter, adopting an irregular pace once again. he whined, having to force himself to open his eyes as they kept falling shut.

“please…” he begged. “i want us to do it together.”

it made you shudder, your eyes squeezing shut, determined to focus on the feeling. his skillful fingers pulled more moans and whimpers from you. but the addition of his lips brushing kisses along your neck caught you off guard. you squeezed his cock again and his fingers pressed harder against you.

Sam came first, his breathy groan vibrating against your chest as he nuzzled your tits, mindful of his volume. his cock spilled heavy spurts of cum, ruining both your shirts and the bedsheets. you grinded against his hand when he faltered, and not long after, he found his pace again, panting into your skin. he bit the flesh of your breast, and you couldn’t stop yourself. didn’t want to. with a gasp, you came from just his fingers, your thighs trembling, clenching around nothing.

he didn’t stop. his fingers massaged your desperate cunt as you simmered down from the euphoria. he groaned when he dipped into your folds, smearing the wetness around, feeling how soft you are. he needed to be inside you.

Sam kisses your neck again, faint traces of his lips until he reached your chin. he nipped your bottom lip, hesitantly moving his hand up to your hip again. his breathing matched yours, each of your faces entirely flushed.

he snaked his arms around your middle, needing the closeness. he nudged his knee between your legs, burying his face in your chest once more. you felt his hips shifting against yours, and you both groaned at the sudden contact. the top of his shaft, where the big vein ran along, pressed against your slit. you exhaled sharply and shifted your own hips just to feel him against you.

he let out a soft gasp at the pressure, then smiled, giggling.

“should have spooky dreams more often.”

you rolled your eyes, taking the matter seriously. “don’t wish that, you’ll regret it.”

Sam sighed contentedly and let his eyes fall shut, his arms like steel bands around you. “you always make it better.”

you huffed out a soft laugh, your hand slipping into his hair. “night, Sammy.”

“mm. night..”