Lil's.

and for months, you had been left with nothing but long-distance phone calls. 

you had lost count of how many nights you spent curled up in bed with the receiver pressed tightly against your ear, listening to his soft, rhythmic breathing long after the conversation had run out of words.

you missed him with a desperation that physically ached – and unfortunately, he had found out exactly how much a few nights ago.

it had happened sometime after midnight.

you were exhausted, half-asleep, and michael had been teasing you in that low, sleepy murmur of his.

before your defenses could catch up, you had admitted it.

you confessed that you’d tried getting yourself off while he was away, but it never worked.

it didn't feel the way his hands did.

without him there, you couldn't get yourself over the edge, and every single attempt while he was away had left you burning and frustrated.

michael let out a soft, breathless laugh.

"yeah?" he had murmured, his voice dropping lower, sending a shiver straight down your spine. "poor thing..." his voice softened. "i miss you so much. i hate bein' away from you."

you could hear the smile in his voice when he spoke again.

“tell you what… i’ll just have to teach you when i get home.”

by the time the call ended, the tone for his return had been set.

which was exactly how you ended up here.

you were sitting on the floor right between his legs, positioned directly in front of the full-length mirror across from his bed. your shorts and panties were gone, leaving you completely exposed to the reflective glass.

your back rested flush against his chest while his long legs stretched around either side of you, keeping your thighs spread wide so you couldn't close them if you tried. one of his arms was looped loosely around your waist, keeping you tucked securely against the heavy, throbbing hardness straining against his pants. 

with only a skimpy pink tank top on, michael had you blushing and writhing in front of the mirror without even laying a finger on you yet. 

you felt so exposed, so vulnerable, your chest rising and falling rapidly under the thin cotton of your top.

"mm, look at you." he caught his lower lip between his teeth, shaking his head slightly. "so pretty f’me," he murmured, his head tilted down so he could speak right against your ear.

heat rushed to your face. you turned your head away from the mirror, burying the side of your face against his chest instead.

you couldn't bear to look at your own reflection while michael sat behind you, whispering things like that into your ear. 

"c'mon, be a good girl 'n look for me." one of the hands around your waist slid up your chest to grab ahold of your chin, turning it gently to bring your eyes back to the mirror. his other hand tickled at the skin below your navel, sending waves of goosebumps.

"'s embarrassing," you whined, your gaze drifting down to the plush carpet below you.

michael pressed a gentle, lingering kiss to your hair. "no 's not, sweet girl. 's to help teach you." his fingers trailed lower, the heat of his palm brushing your bare thighs.

"that's all y'gotta do. just watch."

in the reflection of the glass, your eyes were drawn to the sight of his hand against your body.

michael’s hands alone stirred something inside of you.

the sheer size of them made your stomach flip with a heavy, restless ache. his palms were broad, and his fingers were long and slender.

as his hand hovered over your center, you could see the faint lines of his knuckles and the subtle swell of the veins tracing down the back of his hand.

they were large enough to completely span your hip, yet precise enough to know exactly how to ruin you.

the hand against your stomach slid a little lower, teasing just above your clit. "'m not always gonna be here to do it for you."

you knew that. you knew that michael wouldn't always be around to take care of you like this. not with the second leg of the tour right around the corner. 

so, you let your eyes skim over the floor, slowly inching up the glass of the mirror.

"that's my girl," he whispered, his voice soft against your ear. "if you take your eyes off yourself... i'll stop."

you were both aching with anticipation.

every nerve in your body felt wound tight. the promise hanging between you, the warmth of his body at your back, the sound of his voice against your ear – it all left you so worked up.

you wanted him to finger you the way you needed until you were cumming around his fingers. 

you needed that release from him so badly. 

and michael was desperate to have you squirming in his grasp, choking out moans for him as you gushed all over his fingers.

his fingers brushed over your clit softly, circling it slowly.

he could hear your breath hitch, your much smaller hands coming to the forearm that still had a hold on your chin.

you were so sensitive, all fidgety in front of him, your body growing even hotter at his touch.

"mikey–" you spoke no louder than a whisper, just enough for him to hear you.

he let his hand slip from your chin, his fingers sliding smoothly down to the bottom hem of your pink top, his palm cupping the soft underside of your right breast. you jerked a little at the sensation, your nipple instantly hardening under his palm.

"this okay, sweet girl?" he murmured. his low voice brushing so close that you can feel the slight curve of a smirk against your ear.

you nodded quickly, your chest heaving as you bit your bottom lip between your teeth to stifle a desperate whine.

but with his hand off your chin, your head dropped forward, your eyes instantly darting downward to watch his other hand hovering over your thighs.

"head, baby," he said softly, his tone was gentle but left no room for argument.

you lifted your head, your cheek brushing against his jaw as you rested back on his shoulder. his hair tickled your cheek as you settled against him.

in the reflection, you watched his fingers slide down past your navel, dipping right into the slick arousal gathered between your thighs.

"look how wet you are,” he chuckled, sliding the tips of his fingers through your heat, spreading the slick moisture. his bottom lip caught briefly between his teeth before a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "this all for me?”

his words made your face and neck grow warm, crinkling your nose, your legs attempting to close. but his own legs were in the way, keeping them pinned wide open.

"michael, this is humiliating," you muttered, pressing yourself farther back against his chest like you were trying to escape.

you weren’t.

and you knew that.

you were too riled up.

too desperate for him to fill you.

"take a lick, sweetheart," he teased, bringing his hand away from your heat and up to your face.

you tucked your head into the crook of his neck, your eyes flicking toward his hand for just a second. in the dim light, you could see the creamy, glistening slick coating his fingertips. 

when you finally forced your eyes upward to meet his in the mirror, your eyes were wide and dazed.

"be a good girl 'n get my fingers nice 'n wet for you," he mumbled, a tender smile playing on his lips as he looked down at you with heavy, dark eyes.

wrapping both of your hands around his wrist, you guided his fingers toward your mouth. your tongue brushed against them before you drew them in, tasting the faint trace of yourself still lingering on his skin.

you let them rest there for a moment, coating them with your saliva while his gaze stayed fixed on you. when he finally told you to open your mouth, you obeyed without hesitation. he carefully pulled his fingers free, a thin strand of saliva stretched between them and your tongue before finally breaking. 

the spit dripped off his fingers, trailing down your stomach before his hand found its way back between your thighs. his fingertips were still warm from your mouth, damp as they brushed teasingly against your entrance.

michael felt your pussy flutter against his fingertips.

"god, baby–" he muttered, beginning to tease his middle finger inside, "look at that."

"see how pretty she is? squeezin' me like that?"

your hands returned to his forearm, digging your blunt nails into the skin as his hand palmed heavily at your breast.

"please, please," you mewled, your breath catching sharply in your throat as the slick tips of his fingers parted your entrance. 

your voice was all shaky as he nudged his way inside. he eased in just a little more, letting you feel the stretch until he was two full knuckles deep. 

you were so tight around him, your walls clamping down on his fingers like a vice. every shift of his hand sent a jolt straight through you, causing your body to pulse helplessly around his fingers. 

"shit, 'can feel you, sweetheart," he gasped out, his breath stuttering against your ear. 

once he slid his finger all the way to the hilt, he kept his hand still for a moment, letting your body adjust to the thick stretch of him. 

with agonizingly gentle precision, he hooked his finger upward, curling it slightly against your gummy walls and pressing it right against your sweet spot. 

the sudden pressure hit you like a wave, making you let out a high, broken whimper as your head shook back and forth against his shoulder. 

"michael," you whimpered, your legs beginning to tremble where they were hooked over his own.

it was pathetic.

he was only a finger deep inside you, yet you were falling apart, crumbling into a shaking mess right in his arms.

the hand cupping your breast glided upwards, his fingers grazing lightly over your raised nipple right through the thin fabric of your top.

the hit of pleasure sent your head falling back against his collarbone. your back arched off the floor into his touch, your ass grinding back ruthlessly against the rigid length of his hard cock.

"need more, please," you begged with a breathy moan.

any lingering thought of watching the mirror or trying to memorize his movements for later completely evaporated from your mind.

it didn’t matter anymore.

you knew that never, ever, would you be able to replicate the pleasure he was making you feel right now.

he slowly drew his finger out of you, making you cry out from the friction, before sliding it right back in easily.

you were sucking him back in, begging for more.

he started with languid pumps of a single finger, murmuring dirty, breathless praises against your ear as you trembled and shook in his arms. 

a delicious heat coiled in your stomach at an intensity you’d never felt before.

every moment had you wound up so tight. he had you on such an edge that you truly thought you would explode.

and as he pulled back out once more, he returned with another finger.

"oh my god." you gasped, your legs clamping tightly around his own.

michael could feel your stomach tense up as he filled you even more. he could feel your breathing grow ragged and the volume of your cries become careless.

every push of his knuckles against you was sloppy and loud. you were gushing around him, slick running down his long fingers to coat his knuckles and wrist.

"makin' such a mess," he teased. "you’re close, aren’t you, sweet thing?" his lips brushed against the damp skin of your neck, his breath warm against you.

"michael! i–i’m–" your mouth fell open as your legs kicked helplessly over his thighs.

his fingers pressed deeper, curling into a spot that made you gasp out a frantic, “y-yeah–”

he adjusted his angle, pressing harder into your sweet spot until it drew a sudden burst of wetness right out of you. your walls clamped down around his fingers, his cock pulsing against you in response. he kept working that exact spot, pumping another burst out of you as he groaned against your neck.

"right there?" he murmured. "right there makes you squirt? i know it feels good right there, baby." he didn't let up, his voice soft against your ear as your thighs shook.

"uh huh...yeah?" he coaxed. "yeah, that's it. cum f’me," he murmured.

the hand on your breast slid higher beneath the hem of your top to grab your chin, gently turning your face toward him.

before you could think, he was kissing you, deep and sloppy, swallowing every sound that escaped you.

it was overwhelming.

the coil inside you finally gave way, crashing through you all at once as you gushed all over his fingers and hand.

the sudden rush of fluid soaked his fingers and stained the carpet beneath you. you moaned into his mouth as he kissed you. your body spasmed in his arms, your ass grinding up against him helplessly as he rode through his own orgasm.

just from watching you, watching how your pretty little pussy squeezed his fingers and leaked all over his hand, michael let out a deep, strangled groan into the kiss. his body locked up behind yours as he came in thick, hot spurts, soaking through his underwear as his own climax hit him.

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───

his hands r just ugh

You liked following Bellamy around. There was always something he had to take care of, somewhere to be. His duties as a guard could mean he’d have to go on scouting missions, take watches, arrange sparring lessons for the younger kids — it didn’t matter what it was. What mattered, was that sometimes he needed assistance, or simply some company. That was when you always had eagerly stepped in.

He’d often joke about earning himself a shadow, a puppy that tags along wherever he wends. And you? You just giggled, feeling your insides twist in an overwhelming warmth when he’d teasingly ruffle your hair or squeeze your arm. There simply was no point in denying that nothing filled you with more satisfaction, than the feeling of being useful to him. You liked knowing he valued your presence, your input in things. You liked joking with him in the meantime of whatever task you two were managing together. You liked the way he’d praise you when you did something right. Or the way he’d sometimes tell you to come over to his quarters later. You liked when under the cover of nightfall, in the warmth of his sheets, he sometimes made you all his. Well, you simply liked everything that involved your best friend.

That’s why today when you saw him walking through the corridors with some boxes in his hands, you joined in on the task, as he had suggested your help would be appreciated. You were about to run a supply check in the armory.

Bellamy made his way through the cluttered room and stopped by a large counter where he set down the boxes he was holding. You quickly followed behind him and placed your hands on the cold surface to swiftly jump on top of it. He chuckled under his breath at the way your small body struggled but successfully settled on the countertop in the end. “Alright,” he sighed and looked into your eyes, as if letting you know to listen carefully. You watched as his hand dived into the pocket of his black cargo pants and proceeded to hand you a tablet with quite a long checklist of equipment on it’s screen. “You read, I find the stuff and check it, and you log it. ‘Kay?”

“‘Kay.” With a nod, you grabbed the device from him. Ready to get right on the job.

You worked fast together. Well, excluding the time you spent admiring the sight of his muscles flexing whenever he moved something heavier. Or when his beige t-shirt rode up when he reached to higher shelves, revealing his firm stomach and defined v-line.

But little did you know, he couldn’t help but steal glances at you as well. Way more frequently than it was appropriate. He delighted in the way you absentmindedly swung your pretty legs back and forth as you sat on the high counter, the way your slightly disheveled hair kept on falling over your eyes. Seeing you all focused, your brows adorably met together as you clicked on the device in your hold, was distracting as hell.

So as he was in the middle of stacking ammo boxes, he striked up a conversation again. “You sure I’m not keeping you from your own work? Thought you said Kane had you drowning in drawing maps for the scouting missions, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess I did say that,” you bit the inside of your cheek, smirk creeping upon your face as you let out a lazy sigh. “But I can use a break. It gets boring.”

“Hey, we’ve been over this. You don’t gotta drop everything you’re doing just cause I say I could use you by my side. Don’t do that.” he reminded you, his voice still soft but also bearing some sternness in it. Your eyelashes fluttered to look down at the way his palm squeezed your knee and began to knead further on the material of jeans that tightly hugged your thighs. His touch became firmer once he noticed the pink color blooming on the entirety of your cheeks, making him want to feel every inch of that heated skin of yours.

“But I just like helping you.” you mumbled softly, your eyes looking up to him in a way that always left his throat dry when he gazed at them for a second too long.

That sentence broke something within him. It slipped past your plump lips so effortlessly, so adorably, that he felt like he couldn’t not show you how much he cherished it. Cherished you — sitting there, all pretty in front of him, making such admissions right into his ear.

“Come on here,” he breathed out, patting the space on the counter exactly in front of him. He watched your eyes literally light up. If you had a tail, it would be wagging left and right in excitement now. You shifted your body towards him. “Don’t be shy,” he chuckled and coaxed you nearer, his tone warm and welcoming, as your legs were now bumping against his firm thighs. “Closer, make it easier for me, alright?” the alluring rumble already made heat pool in your belly. Once you were face to face, his head ducked down to watch as he parted your thighs further with one hand, in one taunting motion. “Yeah, like that.” after those words, both of his large palms grasped your backside and pressed you closer, to the very edge of the worktop. One of them then travelled up to your face, cupping your flaming hot cheek. You felt his thumb rubbing circles on your cheekbone, then sliding lower, until it reverently grazed your lower lip. The sensation made you suck in a sharp breath.

You were in a haze. You always were when you could feel how achingly hard he was, pressed right against you. The excitement radiating off you was palpable, you were aware of your thighs already trembling. All because you just couldn’t wait until he’d pound into you.

His thumb began to part your lips. Your mouth widened while your tongue welcomed him immediately. He literally just gave you something to play with, just to watch you. You started sucking on his finger and took another one too once he slid it down. “So pretty,” he encouraged your fond ministrations, all while the room quickly filled with your muffled groans. “God…”

As much as he loved the sight before him, he couldn’t prolong the moment you both craved so greatly. Wasting no time, his hand moved to grab the back of your neck, making your lips crash into his with immerse force. Your tongues met in an all-too-familiar dance, you exchanged spit and breaths alongside muffled wails that left your throats each time you grinded your hips against one another.

“I want you to help me with somethin’ else now, bunny.” he breathed into your neck between the kisses. You twitched as you felt his fingers tracing right in the middle between your thighs, teasing your clothed core into throbbing. “Could you?”

“I can. I will help.” you almost whined under his touch.

“Knew I could count on you.” his delectable praise landed into your mouth as he kissed you again. Slower this time, deeper. He unzipped your pants and, in one practiced motion, slid them down your velvety legs, managing to rub them fondly in the process. Spread before him, your eyes followed the action of his hands helping you out of your panties. “Oh God, baby,” he cooed while dragging his thumb over the damp material. “How’d you get like this, huh?”

Your head tilted eagerly as he leaned down to you, wanting to get the most out of the hungry kiss he suddenly served you. You needed to feel him all over yourself. Now. Your hands dived in the mane of his dark curls, tugging at a few strands lightly, just to earn some extra reactions from him. His hand has quit kneading on your thigh in order to travel towards the zipper of his pants. He shoved his boxers just low enough to free his thick, reddened cock. Your head got a tiny bit dizzy when it grazed the inside of your leg, letting you feel his weight. Letting you recognize how starved you truly have been.

“C’mere, baby.” he murmured before nudging his tip against your entrance. You couldn’t help but look down to where your bodies were now connected. Just a second later, a breathy whine from your lips came unasked when he pushed his length inside you, his balls now resting against the softness of your ass. He knew he had to cover your mouth with his before you could let out a sinisterly loud cry.

Your thighs clamped at either sides of his hips and your eyes sealed shut the moment your walls swallowed him whole. He was warm and throbbing. Everything about him was always so warm, so intense and inviting. You’d like him fucking you anywhere he’d wish. Even in the cold armory, with the door half open.

“Missed this cock, didn’t you, baby?” he warbled and then moaned at the heavenly feeling of the pulsing squeeze of your walls. You always took him so good and deep, and he could never get enough of the way your face turned rosy while he was inside you. His heart felt achingly full. His face had to drop to your shoulder to press tender pecks over the crook of your neck.

“Ugh, Bell!” you couldn’t not yelp out when he slowly pulled out with a wet squelch, just to push himself all the way back in. The steady rhythm of his hips left you shaken up as you greedily gathered pleasure from every single stroke. “F-fuck!”

“Yeah I know, baby, I know. I missed you too,” he softly ribboned out against your scalp. “So fucking much.”

Your back arched, making your body angle differently against him. Suddenly he was hitting even deeper. The change was drastic – your whole frame shuddered, you threw your head back in pure bliss.

“There we go,” You felt how his thumb tweaked your clit with practiced ease, knowing exactly how to make you fall apart with every loving rub. “No one else’s gonna fuck you this good, bunny.” with those words, he smeared a kiss to your forehead. All you could do was nod and whine – cause you perfectly knew he spoke nothing but the truth.

All this was getting too much for your body to take on. The pressure building tight in your gut was agonizing. “Bellamy – mngh! I’m close…”

“Just a lil more, sweetheart,” he growled lowly. “Gonna wait for me, yeah?” The sound of his cracked voice sank into your sweat-covered skin, as you fiercely held back the overwhelming urge for him, knowing how much he’ll appreciate that.

He eventually shoved inside you one last time, hips stuttering and jerking with each pulse. You both gasped as waves of pleasure overtook you, release dripping down his and your own legs. You didn’t feel like moving at all. You’d secretly like for him to stay buried inside you for a while, you’d like to feel that kind of warmth for way longer than appropriate.

His calloused fingers combed through your messed up hair, making you look into his eyes. “Toughest girl.” he praised.

You supposed that’s how friends help each other out.

“Damn it!”

Your head perked up at Bellamy’s voice coming from underneath the chassis of the rover. „You know, usually when the mechanic lets out ten ‚damn its’ within 5 minutes, it’s not a good sign.”

“You havin’ fun here?” he mumbled with a sigh.

“Absolutely. How about you?” you asked, twirling some unknown tool in your hands.

“I’m having an absolute–” A loud thunk. “–blast.”

It was getting harder not to laugh at his struggling with each minute passing. The thing is, Raven insisted on quickly getting the small malfunction in the rover fixed for him the other day. But Bellamy, being the stubborn man he is, assured that he was fully capable of doing that himself. And once he got his hands on something? He could never admit defeat. Especially not when you and Raven were already making bets on how many hours it would take until he would storm out of the mechanic bay, cussing out the rover.

“Pliers, please. The big ones,” He outstreached his muscled arm to you with marks of grease on it. You grabbed the tool hopping off the worktop. “Thank you.” he mumbled, reaching for the implement.

You gave him an encouraging pat on the leg in response. “Anything else?”

“Pliers and your insufferable jokes should be enough for now, thanks doll.”

•

“Alright,” After a few more curse words of his and even more teasing comments from you, he finally rolled out from under the chassis. Wiping sweat from his brow, he stood up and looked up to you with a wide grin. “See? All done.”

“Really?” Seeing traces of dirt covering his freckled cheeks, you fondly rubbed them away. He didn’t seem to care about them though — he was way too proud of himself to notice anything other than the fixed rover.

“Really,” The keys jostled in his hand as he was already holding the passenger door open for you. ”C’mon. You up for a test drive?”

You jumped into your seat and just couldn’t get enough of the childlike beam on his face. He was so eager to prove himself, to rub it in your face - but you didn’t mind. Not when it meant seeing him so damn happy.

The trees flashed before your eyes as Bellamy pressed the gas harder, getting a bit bolder. Your eyes met at the exact moment when the engine rumbled louder, causing the steering wheel to shudder under his grasp.

“Go easy! What if…” you scoffed as the dust from under the tires covered half the window.

“What if what? You have that little faith in me?” The expression you made was a clear response. He shook his head and let out a sigh. “Face it — it runs like a dream!” His palm patted the dusty dashboard.

Then as if on command - a faint whine rose beneath the noise of the engine. Steady and sharp. As if something was straining to hold on.

“What was that?”

“Maybe it’s just…” Bellamy really wanted to believe it was nothing to fuss about. Unfortunately, the following jolt sygnalized otherwise. “Oh shit.” That tone couldn’t bear good news. The engine fell silent as he pocketed the keys.

Your legs swung back and forth as you sat on the hood. You were waiting for the final diagnosis while Bellamy dived underneath the chassis again. Once he got up with a pathetic, resignated sigh, you needed to bite your tongue to hold back your amusement.

You watched him lean against the hood right by your side, run his hand through his messy curls and finally speak up. “Call for…”

“Raven’s on her way.” you finish his sentence with a fond look.

“Good.” He nodded. He looked so deep in thought, as if he was still going over what could have possibly gone wrong. You couldn’t take it any longer. The burst of laughter came unbidden.

“Yeah, sure, laugh. You jinxed it!”

“I didn’t!” you managed to slip out between the chuckles.

He shook his head and slowly closed the distance between you. Looking up to you, he positioned himself between your legs and decided to openly address your viciousness. “You’re cruel,” he mumbled with feigned reproach, cupping your knees with his large palms. His grasp was firm, obviously conveying how deeply your lack of faith ‚angered’ him. “Be nicer to me. You could have at least pretended I was doing well as a mechanic.”

“I’ll stick to my ways,” Your fingers reached up to brush some strands of black hair from his eyes, hoping the tender gesture could placate him. But only a few seconds later, your cruelty got the best of you after all. “I’d say you should stay away from the mechanic bay. For the sake of public safety.”

“How dare you.” he groaned and before you could let out another one of your signature smartass remarks, his hands were already at your waist, giving you a warning pinch. You felt his whole body lean onto you, while clutching at your midsection. A small chuckle slipped through your throat, as his words, said in that rugged tone, landed deep in your stomach. His breath tickled your neck, making your skin feverish even from the smallest contact. He was more than aware of how fast your body was to respond. He knew how to push your buttons. Leaving you completely at his mercy way too easily. Now — he got to be the cruel one.

Playful giggling morphed into gasps. His palms endlessly kneading at your thighs were a punishment. His teeth sinking into your lower lip - a teasing disciplining. As if that was a perfect retaliation for making fun of him and injuring his pride.

Your body hummed with anticipation while you ached for a proper touch, not just a playful one. You needed his mouth, your hands desperately reached for his neck to guide his lips to yours. When he finally decided to go for your mouth, he almost lunged forward. His right palm grabbed your cheek, squeezed it, slipped down your jaw, your neck, and gave a rougher squeeze there as well. Drawing a deep sigh out of you, his lips curled in a smile while his chest rumbled with chuckle as sweet as honey.

You both have long forgotten about where you were and why.

You felt his hips jerk forward, enough to make you tremble when you felt his hardness. Enough to make you mouth a quiet whimper into his shoulder. A taunting move ended too soon, leaving you deprived of a proper sensation. Again.

Then his damned hands. Every time his fingers got closer to where you wanted them the most, they retreated. He sucked on your collarbone slowly, letting his teeth experience your skin there too. Occasionaly letting out deep, satisfied sighs. Making you weak. He caressed your inner thigh, brushing against your core, rubbing with only the lightest pressure. You tried to lean in closer, slide further on top of the cold hood. Seeking more friction, you moved your thighs, causing him to just laugh against your skin. “Easy, okay?” he whispered. “Cruel, impatient…what else, huh?” he softly summed you up before focusing on marking your neck. You let out a small, pained sound of pleasure when his bites were temporarily distracting from the blooming heat in you.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, riding up his t-shirt, rubbing against the holster at his belt. “Damn it, doll-” He went crazy at the sensation. Losing all the power he used for holding himself in check, he lowered himself down on you, making your back hit the steel. You grunted with a smile, sick from anticipation and hunger. His breath grew shallow as he adjusted his position. His mouth was not taking a smallest break from devouring you. He rubbed himself against your core while his warm fingers stroked your untamed hair behind your ear.

“Bell…” Your pulse was in your throat. His hands were everywhere. The buckle of his belt loosened with your help. Just a moment and you could feel him, he would give you what you crave, and then…

He stopped. Fucking stopped.

You tried to catch your breath. You tugged on his belt, looking up to him pleadingly, unaware of anything around you. Just when you were about to scold him and let out a needy whine…a rumble of an engine in a near distance reached your ears, and your eyes finally registered what he saw too.

Of course. You called for Raven.

“Shit.” His trembling with need hands travelled to his belt, jumping off you.

You fixed your hair, with embarassment trying to ignore the banging of your heartbeat, trying to calm down. Cursing yourself for making the fucking radio call so soon…

Raven jumped out of her rover wordlessly. Bearing a smirk too wide to mean nothing.

Of course she saw.

As soon as she approached you two, your head turned towards Bellamy, whose face was all red. You fought with everything within you not to laugh. “I’m gonna go get the…toolbox.” he mumbled with an awkward smile, immediately heading towards Raven’s rover.

“Yeah, okay.” You nodded with unnecessary enthusiasm. After letting out a deep breath, you took up the courage to face Raven.

She eyed the rover up and down. Then you. Then she scoffed. “Well, no wonder the truck’s broken if you two do that often...”

“Damn it!”

Your head perked up at Bellamy’s voice coming from underneath the chassis of the rover. „You know, usually when the mechanic lets out ten ‚damn its’ within 5 minutes, it’s not a good sign.”

“You havin’ fun here?” he mumbled with a sigh.

“Absolutely. How about you?” you asked, twirling some unknown tool in your hands.

“I’m having an absolute–” A loud thunk. “–blast.”

It was getting harder not to laugh at his struggling with each minute passing. The thing is, Raven insisted on quickly getting the small malfunction in the rover fixed for him the other day. But Bellamy, being the stubborn man he is, assured that he was fully capable of doing that himself. And once he got his hands on something? He could never admit defeat. Especially not when you and Raven were already making bets on how many hours it would take until he would storm out of the mechanic bay, cussing out the rover.

“Pliers, please. The big ones,” He outstreached his muscled arm to you with marks of grease on it. You grabbed the tool hopping off the worktop. “Thank you.” he mumbled, reaching for the implement.

You gave him an encouraging pat on the leg in response. “Anything else?”

“Pliers and your insufferable jokes should be enough for now, thanks doll.”

•

“Alright,” After a few more curse words of his and even more teasing comments from you, he finally rolled out from under the chassis. Wiping sweat from his brow, he stood up and looked up to you with a wide grin. “See? All done.”

“Really?” Seeing traces of dirt covering his freckled cheeks, you fondly rubbed them away. He didn’t seem to care about them though — he was way too proud of himself to notice anything other than the fixed rover.

“Really,” The keys jostled in his hand as he was already holding the passenger door open for you. ”C’mon. You up for a test drive?”

You jumped into your seat and just couldn’t get enough of the childlike beam on his face. He was so eager to prove himself, to rub it in your face - but you didn’t mind. Not when it meant seeing him so damn happy.

The trees flashed before your eyes as Bellamy pressed the gas harder, getting a bit bolder. Your eyes met at the exact moment when the engine rumbled louder, causing the steering wheel to shudder under his grasp.

“Go easy! What if…” you scoffed as the dust from under the tires covered half the window.

“What if what? You have that little faith in me?” The expression you made was a clear response. He shook his head and let out a sigh. “Face it — it runs like a dream!” His palm patted the dusty dashboard.

Then as if on command - a faint whine rose beneath the noise of the engine. Steady and sharp. As if something was straining to hold on.

“What was that?”

“Maybe it’s just…” Bellamy really wanted to believe it was nothing to fuss about. Unfortunately, the following jolt sygnalized otherwise. “Oh shit.” That tone couldn’t bear good news. The engine fell silent as he pocketed the keys.

Your legs swung back and forth as you sat on the hood. You were waiting for the final diagnosis while Bellamy dived underneath the chassis again. Once he got up with a pathetic, resignated sigh, you needed to bite your tongue to hold back your amusement.

You watched him lean against the hood right by your side, run his hand through his messy curls and finally speak up. “Call for…”

“Raven’s on her way.” you finish his sentence with a fond look.

“Good.” He nodded. He looked so deep in thought, as if he was still going over what could have possibly gone wrong. You couldn’t take it any longer. The burst of laughter came unbidden.

“Yeah, sure, laugh. You jinxed it!”

“I didn’t!” you managed to slip out between the chuckles.

He shook his head and slowly closed the distance between you. Looking up to you, he positioned himself between your legs and decided to openly address your viciousness. “You’re cruel,” he mumbled with feigned reproach, cupping your knees with his large palms. His grasp was firm, obviously conveying how deeply your lack of faith ‚angered’ him. “Be nicer to me. You could have at least pretended I was doing well as a mechanic.”

“I’ll stick to my ways,” Your fingers reached up to brush some strands of black hair from his eyes, hoping the tender gesture could placate him. But only a few seconds later, your cruelty got the best of you after all. “I’d say you should stay away from the mechanic bay. For the sake of public safety.”

“How dare you.” he groaned and before you could let out another one of your signature smartass remarks, his hands were already at your waist, giving you a warning pinch. You felt his whole body lean onto you, while clutching at your midsection. A small chuckle slipped through your throat, as his words, said in that rugged tone, landed deep in your stomach. His breath tickled your neck, making your skin feverish even from the smallest contact. He was more than aware of how fast your body was to respond. He knew how to push your buttons. Leaving you completely at his mercy way too easily. Now — he got to be the cruel one.

Playful giggling morphed into gasps. His palms endlessly kneading at your thighs were a punishment. His teeth sinking into your lower lip - a teasing disciplining. As if that was a perfect retaliation for making fun of him and injuring his pride.

Your body hummed with anticipation while you ached for a proper touch, not just a playful one. You needed his mouth, your hands desperately reached for his neck to guide his lips to yours. When he finally decided to go for your mouth, he almost lunged forward. His right palm grabbed your cheek, squeezed it, slipped down your jaw, your neck, and gave a rougher squeeze there as well. Drawing a deep sigh out of you, his lips curled in a smile while his chest rumbled with chuckle as sweet as honey.

You both have long forgotten about where you were and why.

You felt his hips jerk forward, enough to make you tremble when you felt his hardness. Enough to make you mouth a quiet whimper into his shoulder. A taunting move ended too soon, leaving you deprived of a proper sensation. Again.

Then his damned hands. Every time his fingers got closer to where you wanted them the most, they retreated. He sucked on your collarbone slowly, letting his teeth experience your skin there too. Occasionaly letting out deep, satisfied sighs. Making you weak. He caressed your inner thigh, brushing against your core, rubbing with only the lightest pressure. You tried to lean in closer, slide further on top of the cold hood. Seeking more friction, you moved your thighs, causing him to just laugh against your skin. “Easy, okay?” he whispered. “Cruel, impatient…what else, huh?” he softly summed you up before focusing on marking your neck. You let out a small, pained sound of pleasure when his bites were temporarily distracting from the blooming heat in you.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, riding up his t-shirt, rubbing against the holster at his belt. “Damn it, doll-” He went crazy at the sensation. Losing all the power he used for holding himself in check, he lowered himself down on you, making your back hit the steel. You grunted with a smile, sick from anticipation and hunger. His breath grew shallow as he adjusted his position. His mouth was not taking a smallest break from devouring you. He rubbed himself against your core while his warm fingers stroked your untamed hair behind your ear.

“Bell…” Your pulse was in your throat. His hands were everywhere. The buckle of his belt loosened with your help. Just a moment and you could feel him, he would give you what you crave, and then…

He stopped. Fucking stopped.

You tried to catch your breath. You tugged on his belt, looking up to him pleadingly, unaware of anything around you. Just when you were about to scold him and let out a needy whine…a rumble of an engine in a near distance reached your ears, and your eyes finally registered what he saw too.

Of course. You called for Raven.

“Shit.” His trembling with need hands travelled to his belt, jumping off you.

You fixed your hair, with embarassment trying to ignore the banging of your heartbeat, trying to calm down. Cursing yourself for making the fucking radio call so soon…

Raven jumped out of her rover wordlessly. Bearing a smirk too wide to mean nothing.

Of course she saw.

As soon as she approached you two, your head turned towards Bellamy, whose face was all red. You fought with everything within you not to laugh. “I’m gonna go get the…toolbox.” he mumbled with an awkward smile, immediately heading towards Raven’s rover.

“Yeah, okay.” You nodded with unnecessary enthusiasm. After letting out a deep breath, you took up the courage to face Raven.

She eyed the rover up and down. Then you. Then she scoffed. “Well, no wonder the truck’s broken if you two do that often...”

his voice fills the room first—rough exhale, like he’s already touching himself. the faint rustle of sheets. a low groan that vibrates straight down your spine.

“hey… fuck. it’s me.”

a pause. wet sound—his hand moving slow. you can picture it: long fingers wrapped around himself, thumb swiping over the tip, smearing precome.

“i tried calling. you didn’t pick up. probably asleep. or out. or… god, i hope you’re alone right now.”

his breath hitches. the rhythm picks up—just a little. slick. rhythmic.

“i can’t stop thinking about you. been hard for hours. tried to ignore it. jerked off once already in the shower. came thinking about your mouth. still wasn’t enough.”

a soft curse under his breath. the bed creaks—he’s shifting, spreading his legs wider maybe. you swallow hard. thighs pressing together without thinking.

“i keep seeing you on your knees. looking up at me with those eyes. the way your lips stretch around me. fuck—your tongue. the little hum you make when you take me deeper.”

his voice drops lower. gravel. wrecked.

“i’m so fucking hard for you. leaking all over my hand. wish it was your pussy instead. tight. hot. dripping. you always get so wet when i talk like this, don’t you? bet you’re touching yourself right now. listening to me fall apart.”

a sharp inhale. his strokes get louder—faster. wet slaps echoing through the speaker.

“i want to fuck your mouth first. hold your hair. watch you choke on me a little. then flip you over. spread you open. slide in slow. feel every inch disappear inside you. you’d clench so hard around me. whimper my name. beg for it harder.”

he moans—long, broken. the sound punches you right between the legs. your hand slips under your waistband before you can think.

“god, baby. i’m close already. just from thinking of you. from imagining you listening. replaying this. touching that pretty clit while my voice fills your room.”

his breathing turns ragged. desperate. words tumbling faster.

“i need you to come with me. please. fuck—please touch yourself. circle your clit the way i do. two fingers inside. curl them. pretend it’s me stretching you. pretend i’m there. pounding into you. telling you how good you feel. how tight. how fucking perfect.”

a choked sound—like he’s biting his lip. trying to hold back. failing.

“i’m gonna come thinking about filling you up. pumping you full. watching it drip out. then pushing it back in with my fingers. making you taste us. fuck—i want that. want you marked. claimed. mine.”

his rhythm stutters. hips jerking into his fist—you can hear it. the wet frantic slide.

“say my name when you come. please. whisper it. scream it. i don’t care. just—fuck—come for me. now. i’m—shit—”

a long, guttural groan rips out of him. deep from his chest. his breath catches—sharp, punched-out gasps. the slick sounds slow. then stop. just heavy panting. a soft, wrecked laugh.

“jesus. came so hard. thinking about you.”

silence for a second. like he’s catching his breath. coming down.

then quieter. softer. almost shy.

“i miss you. more than i should. call me back when you wake up. just know i’m thinking about you. always.”

the voicemail ends. beep.

the room feels too quiet after. your pulse thundering in your ears. your fingers still between your legs—slick. aching. you didn’t even realize you’d started moving to his voice.

you hit replay.

once.

twice.

each time his groans hit deeper. each time you clench harder around your own fingers. chasing the ghost of him.

by the third listen you’re shaking. coming hard. his name spilling from your lips like a prayer. like a promise.

the ache stays. warm. insistent. everywhere.

like his voice never really left the room.

ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🪽་༘࿐ god's words ๋ ࣭ ⭑ angel radio

his leg bounces restless under the thin sheet, and you catch the way his hand drifts low, adjusting himself when he thinks no one is looking. your stomach tightens because you know that look. you know what it does to your body—the slow heat building low, even as you tell yourself: not here. not with sam two feet away, flipping pages like the case is the only thing that matters.

the lamp between the beds casts everything in a sick yellow glow. you lie back on your mattress; the sheets scratchy against your bare thighs, your tank top riding up just enough to catch dean’s gaze again. he doesn’t hide it this time. his eyes drag over the strip of skin at your waist, and you feel it like fingers. the ache between your legs already starting to pulse—soft, insistent. you turn your face to the ceiling, trying to breathe steady, but your pulse is loud in your ears.

minutes crawl. sam mutters something about sigils, his eyes never leaving the book. the air conditioner clunks off, leaving only the buzz of the lamp and the heavy sound of three people pretending they aren’t aware of each other.

dean sits up suddenly—the mattress creaking. “this room’s a fucking oven,” his voice comes out rough, edged with that impatience he gets when the hunt adrenaline hasn’t burned off. “ice machine’s down the hall, right? i’m not sleeping like this.” his stare locks on you—direct, no subtlety at all. “come with me. don’t want to wander this dump alone. you never know.”

sam grunts without looking up. “whatever.” he turns another page like the whole conversation is background noise. but your heart is already hammering because you hear what dean isn’t saying. the real reason. the way his eyes flick down to your mouth, then lower. the invitation is so not-subtle it makes your cheeks burn.

you hesitate for half a second—your mind whispering bad idea, sam will notice, sam will hear—but your body is already moving. sliding off the bed, slipping your flip-flops on. the cool plastic between your toes. “yeah, okay,” you manage. the words come out too breathy.

the door shuts behind you with a soft click, and the hallway air hits different—cooler, damper. the long stretch of faded wallpaper and thin carpet stretching out under the fluorescent lights that buzz overhead like they’re alive and watching every step. the big window at the end frames the parking lot perfectly: cars scattered under the same harsh glow, a truck idling at the far end, someone stepping out, stretching their legs. the possibility of eyes on you sends a shiver racing down your spine, but you keep walking. dean’s shoulder brushing yours, the heat of him cutting through the chill.

halfway down he stops—turning so fast you almost bump into him. his hands find your waist, backing you against the snack machine. the cool metal ridges press into your back through your thin tank; the rows of chips and candy rattling softly behind you.

“ice was just an excuse, sweetheart,” he murmurs, mouth already close to your ear—breath hot and ragged. “sam’s never gonna sleep, and i’ve been hard since the car ride. couldn’t stop thinking about you.” his hips roll forward, pressing the thick line of his cock against your hip through his sweats. the proof right there—solid, insistent.

you glance sideways at the window. the parking lot staring back. headlights sweeping across the asphalt every few seconds. “dean, someone could see us. right there.” the protest slips out, but your hands are already fisting his shirt, pulling him closer. the words feel weak against the way your thighs press together, chasing friction.

the push and pull inside you is dizzying. you hate how much you love this—the danger, the exposure, the way it makes dean’s touch feel like the only real thing in a life that keeps trying to take everything else.

he chuckles low—the sound vibrating against your neck. “that’s the point, baby. the thought of them watching you fall apart for me.” his fingers slip under your tank, palms rough and warm, sliding up to cup your breasts. thumbs brushing your nipples until they tighten, almost painfully. you gasp—the sound too loud in the empty hall.

he kisses you then—messy and urgent. tongue sliding against yours, teeth nipping your lip. the taste of him: salt and mint and pure need. you kiss back just as hungry, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

“fuck, you’re soaked already,” he groans when his hand dives into your shorts, pushing the fabric aside. two fingers sliding through your slick folds, circling your clit once, twice—the pressure perfect and immediate. your hips jerk; the machine shakes behind you. the fluorescent light above casts everything in sharp, unforgiving white—making every detail too bright: the flush on your chest, the way your lips part, the bead of sweat sliding down dean’s temple.

“dean, please,” you whisper. the words break, messy. “what if someone—”

but he doesn’t let you finish. just yanks your shorts and panties down to your ankles in one motion. the cool air hitting your bare pussy makes you shiver. he shoves his own sweats low enough—his cock springs free, heavy and flushed, the tip already glistening. he strokes himself once, eyes locked on yours. “gonna fuck you raw right here. no rubber, nothing. just you taking every inch while the whole lot watches.”

you nod because words are gone. the leg he lifts hooks over his hip. the head of him nudging your entrance—hot and blunt—then he pushes in. slow at first. the stretch burning so good, so full. just the thick drag of him filling you completely. your nails dig into his back—hard enough to leave marks.

“so full,” you breathe. the fragment slipping out, broken and honest. “too much. perfect.”

he bottoms out with a groan, forehead dropping to yours for one second. the tenderness there—soft and real in the middle of all this heat. “you okay, baby?” he whispers, the question too open, too vulnerable. it makes your chest tighten even as your walls flutter around him.

“yes. more,” you manage. and he gives it. the rhythm starting deep and steady, then building—harder, faster. the snack machine rattles louder with every snap of his hips; the wet slap of skin on skin echoing down the hall—obscene and loud under the buzzing lights.

outside, another car pulls in. the engine rumbling closer. you freeze for a split second—eyes wide on the window—but dean doesn’t stop. if anything, he fucks you harder. one hand gripping your ass, holding you open; the other sliding between you to rub your clit—fast and firm. “let them look,” he growls against your throat. “let them see how pretty you look creaming on my cock.”

the pleasure coils tight and vicious. your thighs start to shake. the fluorescent light blurring above you. the short, sharp sentence hits you again. “harder,” you gasp. and he delivers—pounding into you so deep it steals your breath.

the orgasm crashes—sudden and violent. ripping through you white-hot and overwhelming. your vision spots; your mouth opens in a silent cry. nails raking down his back. he follows right after—hips stuttering, burying himself to the hilt with a low, broken groan. the heat of him spilling deep and raw inside you. the sensation so intimate it makes tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

for a moment he just holds you there—arms wrapped tight, breathing hard against your neck. the roughness fading into something softer. his lips brush your temple—gentle, almost reverent. “god, i love you like this.” the line comes out too honest, too awkward in the afterglow. it makes your cheeks burn even as you cling to him.

the mess of him starts to drip down your thigh—warm and sticky. he pulls out slow, careful—using the hem of his shirt to wipe you clean. tender in a way that twists something deep in your chest.

you tug your shorts back up—legs shaky. the hallway feels brighter now; the risk settling heavy in your stomach. but the ache between your legs is already humming again—soft and insistent. you grab a bucket of ice on the way back because you have to at least pretend.

the keycard beeps too loud when you slip back into the room. sam glances up from his book, eyebrow raised. “no ice?”

dean shrugs—easy as ever. “machine was slow.” but his eyes flick to you with that secret little wink. the air between the three of you suddenly thicker.

you crawl into bed—the sheets cool against your heated skin. but sleep stays far away. the buzz of those hallway lights still echoes in your head. the feel of dean still inside you. the memory of the parking lot. the possibility of eyes on you.

it all swirls into this quiet, unresolved pull—low in your chest. you want more. you want him again. right now. you want the safety of four walls, but the danger calls to you like it always does with dean.

and you lie there staring at the ceiling—the faint ache a personal little reminder that nothing in this life ever really settles. not the hunts. not the rooms. not the way your heart keeps reaching for him, even when it knows better.

ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🪽་༘࿐ god's words ๋ ࣭ ⭑ angel radio

Sam is so devoted when he fucks. Intense, laser-focused, like your body is a code he is trying to crack with his mouth and hands and hips and cock. But you, oh you, you are not quiet at all.

Sam has you face-down, back arched, thighs trembling where they grip the edge of the mattress. His palm presses flat between your shoulder blades, holding you in place like he's claiming territory, like if he lets go, you’ll float out of your skin and into the ceiling.

He’s deep, grinding slow and mean inside you, his other hand wrapped around your wrist, stretched tight behind your back like you belong to him, and maybe you do, at least in this moment. You’re a mess beneath him: mouth open, drooling against the pillow, moaning like you forgot what shame sounds like. Every movement drags more of him over that devastating spot inside you, the one that turns your bones to smoke.

Sam is not gentle. Not tonight. Not with the way your body keeps pulling him in, greedy and clenching. He’s panting above you, his hair sticking to his forehead, low growls vibrating through his chest like thunder just before a storm breaks.

“You feel that?” he grits out. “Every inch of me. Right. Fucking. There.” He punctuates each word with a thrust, slow, deep, deliberate, until you’re clawing at the sheets. His hand slides lower, trails over your hip, down your belly, between your thighs, and the sound you make when his fingers circle your clit is filthy. It echoes off the walls. You can’t even think. There’s just the ache, the drag, the wet slap of his hips against yours, his voice in your ear.

“Been thinking about this all day,” he mutters, biting at your shoulder. “How you’d sound. How you’d look, split open for me like this.”

Your breath stutters from the overwhelming, unbearable stretch of him. From the way Sam doesn’t just fuck you, he uses you. Like your body is his favorite instrument and tonight, he’s playing it raw.

Your cheek sticks to the pillow, flushed and damp. You’re gasping now, needy, greedy, chasing the rhythm of his hips as he picks up speed, deeper, rougher, still grinding against that sweet, swollen spot inside you that has you seeing stars behind your eyelids. He leans in closer, the heat of his chest blanketing your back, his breath ghosting over your ear. “So fucking tight. So wet for me. I could stay in this pussy for hours.”

His fingers tighten around your wrist. You twist under him, trying to push back, trying to take more, more of him, more of the pressure, the weight, the filth he pours into your skin with every thrust. The bed creaks beneath you, loud and shameless, the headboard tapping the wall in rhythm. Your thighs are shaking uncontrollably, overstimulated and slick. Sam feels it. Sees it.

“Fuck, look at you,” he grits, angling his hips just right, his cock dragging deep and slow through the mess he’s already made of you. “Look at how you take it. Like you were made for me.”

You sob into the pillow, mouth open, drooling again. You can’t even form words. Just sounds... pathetic, high-pitched, wrecked.

His fingers slide back down to your clit, rubbing in tight, deliberate circles that make your back arch like a live wire. The tension coils, sharp and hot in your belly, and you know it’s coming, fast, unstoppable. You moan something that might be “fuck yes” or “please marry me”, who knows. You’ve gone stupid. All you can feel is his cock buried inside you, thick and perfect, the slide vulgar, your body wet and open and begging.

His hands grab your ass cheeks, forcing them wider, his grip bruising, until he’s fucking you rough, hips slapping against you with obscene, wet sounds. He leans down, tongue sliding across your jaw before he whispers, “I’m gonna ruin you, baby. Make you forget every man but me.”

You moan, loud and wanton and completely gone. There’s nothing in your world but the stretch of him, the heat of his skin against yours, the way he sinks in so deep you swear you can feel him in your throat. His thrusts are ruthless now, frantic, each one dragging sparks up your spine like he's trying to fuck the light out of you.

And you don’t hear it. You don’t hear the creak of the doorknob.

You don’t hear the faint, confused footstep just inside the room. You don’t even notice the way the air shifts with someone else’s presence.

Because Sam is wrecking you.

He’s moaning now, low and sharp and almost desperate, his voice cracking as your body tightens around him. “Fuck... fuck, love, just like that. God, I can feel you. You’re milking my cock. You gonna come for me again? Yeah? Make a mess on me?”

You nod frantically into the pillow, lips swollen and slick with spit, tears stinging at the corners of your eyes from how good it feels, how full you are, how completely destroyed he's made you. Your legs are jelly. Your thoughts are static. Your voice is a breathy, whimpering wreck of his name.

And that’s when Dean speaks.

“Oh, fuck me sideways.”

You both turn your heads like two busted teenagers mid-makeout. Except instead of kissing, there’s Sam’s cock buried in your soaked, trembling pussy and your ass in the air, red from being gripped so hard it’s basically branded.

Dean's there, standing in the doorway, holding a mug that says “#1 Hunter” and looking like he just stepped into his own personal Hell. His gaze tracks the scene like he’s trying to figure out what position this even is, and what spiritual trauma he’s just absorbed.

Sam blinks. “Dean.”

Dean blinks back. “... Sam.”

You and Sam still don't move, not really. Because, and this is important, Sam is still inside you. And not just inside. Deep. Bent-over-the-bed, legs-spread, zero-doubt-about-what’s-happening deep. Dean makes a sound like a dying animal, just now realizing what he walked in on, slams the mug down on the hallway shelf, and gestures wildly. “Dude! What the fuck?!”

Sam twitches inside you. You gasp, the sound broken and breathless, your body traitorously arching into his touch. Your skin is flushed, damp, your legs shaking with overstimulation, and your ass still high in the air, bare and glistening, perfectly framed by Sam’s bruising grip. You turn your head on the pillow, breath ragged, voice shaky but sharp. “Either you stop looking, Winchester,” you rasp, eyes meeting his with heat, “or you join us.”

Dean makes a sound so high-pitched you’re not sure if it came from his mouth or his soul. He stumbles backward like you physically hit him with a dick-shaped baseball bat. “I—I—WHAT THE HELL,” he sputters. “I came in for Tylenol! Not to witness... this! I’m getting visual PTSD! I am too old and too emotionally fragile for this level of incest-adjacent bullshit! I'm already in therapy, man," he drags one hand down his face "you know how expensive that shit is?"

Sam chuckles low in his chest, still not pulling out. If anything, his fingers now begin to move a little faster between your legs, just to prove a point. You writhe under him, unable to stop the soft, helpless moan that escapes your lips. Dean’s jaw drops even lower.

“I swear to God,” Dean snaps, backing down the hallway, “if you make her come while I’m still in earshot, I’m calling Cas. I don’t care if he’s in Heaven. I will summon him.”

A low groan left his throat as his hips rolled forwards into the lumpy mattress beneath him, spilling into his boxers.

It took him a moment to grow coherent enough to realise exactly what predicament he was in. Breathing heavily into the pillow Sam blinked a few times, eyes adjusting to the sight of his motel room, the empty bed he was in. There was a burning tingling shame that spread right down to his stomach when he realised he’d had a wet dream about his best friend.

“What the fuck?” He breathed out hard as he sat up, and was relieved as he glanced across the room to see that Dean’s bed was empty and that he hadn’t been caught doing… whatever that was.

Sam wasn’t stupid, he was painfully aware of the feelings he had for her, the feelings that had been simmering for years. But what was he supposed to do? Even in the extremely unlikely case that she did feel the same, it wasn’t like acting on those feelings was a good idea. Nothing ever went well for him, it’d just be another thing he ended up losing one way or another. So he’d tried to shove it as far down as he could.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t tried to deal with it before. There had been a few times that he’d had his fist around his cock after a long day of trying to ignore how close they’d been throughout the day when he’d thought of her, jacked off and thought of what she’d feel like or sound like beneath him, but each time he’d grown so shameful of what he’d been doing that he’d turned himself off completely and went to bed hard and uncomfortable.

But this? This was so much worse than that.

Sam grimaced as he pushed the covers off and felt the now cooling cum in his boxers, the fabric sticking to his skin, and so fucking embarrassed he quickly got up and went into the bathroom, once again glad that his brother wasn’t in the room.

He pulled off his shirt and stepped out of his boxers, a mental note to go to the laundromat later that day appearing in his head as he caught sight of the mess in his pants, then started the shower and stepped in beneath the spray of water.

What the fuck was wrong with him? Sure, he was a guy, he’d had wet dreams before, but not since he was a teenager and certainly never about her.

It had seemed so real. Her panted breaths against his neck with each thrust of his hips, the way her pussy had clenched so deliciously tight around his cock anytime his tip kissed her cervix, the way she’d moaned his name.

Sam huffed out a sharp breath through his nose when he realised he was already hard again.

“What the fuck?” He hissed, voice hidden beneath the sound of water hitting the tile. “Jesus Christ. Cut it out.”

His hand found his cock anyways, so hard he was fucking aching, and he took a few minutes to jack himself off to the memory — the not even real memory — of her beneath him until he was groaning deep in his throat and cumming onto the shower floor.

His hand reached up to turn the temperature dial all the way around to cold and he finished up in there as quick as he could, heart still thumping.

Pull it together.

It didn’t take long to pack up his stuff after his shower, but by the time Dean returned with coffee for the three of them Sam was hot. Not hot like he’d worked up his temperature by moving around the room, but like the warmth was sitting beneath his skin like a fever. The back of his neck was sweaty and his hair was sticking to his forehead, and as he took one of the to-go cups from his brother Dean frowned at him.

“You okay, Sammy?” He asked. “Looking a little pale.”

“Fine,” Sam waved him off as he grabbed his bags and moved towards the door. He was hard again, which was all he could focus on, frustration simmering with the heat. “Just wanna get on the road—”

He pulled the door open and stood face to face with her, and his jaw clenched as his cock throbbed.

“Hey,” she smiled sweetly, dodging past him to take one of the cups from Dean too. “My stuff’s in the car. Are we going?”

Sam hadn’t moved, shoulders stiff and throat dry as he stared at her. She looked like she usually did, if not a little worn down from yesterday's hunt, and maybe that was the worst part — nothing was different so what the hell was wrong with him? He’d become an expert at shoving away his feelings. There had been multiple occasions where she literally had her shirt off in front of him so he could patch up an injury and his eyes had never wandered further than necessary, respectful in the way he touched her and looked at her and thought of her. So now? He felt like a fucking pervert. She was his best friend.

“Hello? Earth to Sam?” Dean waved a hand so close to his face that he flinched and glared at his brother. “You get out the wrong side of the bed or something?”

At the mention of the bed and the thought of what he’d done that morning Sam glared harder, her eyes on him like a red hot laser and he didn’t dare look at her then. A bead of sweat trickled down the back of his neck and he felt so uncomfortable and so fucking hard that he just wanted the ground to open up beneath him and swallow him whole.

“I’m fine,” he grit out. “Can we just go?”

Being in the car made everything so much worse.

The only saving grace was that he didn’t have to look at her, but her voice floating up from the backseat and the smell of her perfume was enough. Each bump in the road made him shift in his seat, achingly hard and pressed against the zipper of his jeans. He’d had to discreetly palm himself through the denim just to try and get some sort of relief a few times when Dean wasn’t looking.

When the heat didn’t die down he’d come to the conclusion that he must’ve been harbouring a fever. Since getting in the car he’d shed his flannel to just be left in his t-shirt and rolled the window all the way down, and though the wind blowing his hair back was nice he was still fucking hot.

“Dude,” Dean knocked his knee against his and he flinched, glancing up at his face. “Are you sure you’re okay? You look…”

“Like shit?” Sam scoffed when his brother nodded. “Yeah. I’m fine.” His eyes flickered up to the mirror and his jaw clenched at the sight of her in the back.

“Are you sure? You don’t look fine,” his brother pushed. “I told you we should’ve double checked what that witch did yesterday.”

For the past few days they’d been tracking a coven of witches across three separate towns. Ten different murders, all husbands, all mysteriously died in front of their partners. It hadn’t taken all that long to figure out that it was witchcraft when they’d found hexbags in most of the houses. Bitter with the loss of their own lovers they’d gone on a killing spree and caught too much attention.

The last of the witches they’d put down in the basement of the house they’d been camped out in had at one point shoved Sam up against the wall, gripped his throat so tightly he couldn’t breathe, and had murmured an incantation he hadn’t been able to make out through the ringing in his ears. There had been a hot pressure in his chest that started spreading outwards, but a moment later Dean had shot her in the back and she’d died right in front of him. The magic couldn’t have lingered if she was dead, could it?

“She died, Dean, you killed her,” Sam murmured, clenched his teeth tight when Baby hit a pothole and his cock was momentarily pressed harder against his zipper as he was jerked slightly in his seat. “Just feel a little hot. I’m fine.”

His head tipped to the side to watch out of the window as he did his best to ignore it, ignore how it felt — the simmering beneath his skin was a heat he’d only felt once, and he wasn’t eager to think about his time in the cage.

The heat only continued to get worse somehow. The only rational explanation he could think of was that he’d run himself down after back-to-back cases and was a little under the weather. He did not, however, have an explanation for the way the heat seemed to simmer worse whenever he looked at her, heart thumping and arousal curling deeper into his gut whenever she spoke.

They got to their next motel just before sunset, with the intent of getting a good night’s sleep before either finding another case in the morning or just heading back to the bunker. If he was being honest Sam just wanted his bed at home, but he didn’t really have the energy to argue with his brother, not when every single thought in his head was swirling over how he felt, over her.

The other two were talking as Sam forced himself to get out of the car, too focused on the drumming pulse in his ears to listen to what they were saying, so when he rounded the car towards the trunk and a hand landed on his arm he jumped at the burn. White hot like electricity. He flinched and his eyes shot up to meet her eyes, which were quickly growing concerned.

“Sam?” She frowned, and his eyes locked onto the plush of her lips. He knew they’d feel good against his, soft and warm, the little ‘o’ shape they’d make as she moaned underneath him— “Sam? Are you okay?”

Guilt flooded him immediately and he forced his gaze away. What was wrong with him? He couldn’t just think about her like that, it was disgusting.

He didn’t even utter an excuse, just quickly rushed into the room before he could make things worse.

“Sam?” Dean had followed him in and Sam grit his teeth. He’d been planning on sorting himself out in the shower again, at this point it was legitimately a necessity. “What the hell is up with you? You ignored her the whole drive-“ he cut himself off when Sam turned to face him. “What’s wrong?”

There wasn’t even any point in insisting he was fine anymore. The heat just kept getting hotter, he felt sweaty and weird and still thinking about that dream. “I just… have a fever.”

Dean scowled as he stepped forwards and reached up to touch Sam’s forehead, even as he tried to bat his hand away. “Why didn’t you say anything in the car? You’re burning up, man,” there was a pause before he sighed. “Call Rowena.”

“Huh? Why?”

“Because what happened yesterday isn’t sitting right with me and if anyone can make sure that witch didn’t do something to you it’s her.”

Even through the simmering beneath his skin Sam’s lips twitched. “You’re willingly asking me to call Rowena?”

“She’s still a bitch but she can be useful sometimes,” Dean rolled his eyes. “Just call her.”

Much to Sam’s dismay and an I told you so from Dean, Rowena also suspected that something was wrong after Sam called and explained his symptoms — well, not all of them, he didn’t dare mention the dream or his problem — and cut the call off with a chirpy confirmation that she’d get to him as quickly as she could.

It was dark out by the time Rowena got there. All of the windows in the room had been opened as wide as they could in hopes that the cold night air would do something to help the fire in his veins, but nothing was helping. His chest had tightened with the rising heat, there was absolutely no doubt that something was wrong.

“Well aren’t you a… sight.” Rowena hummed as soon as she stepped through the door, taking her time like she was just there for tea. The silk of her dress caught in the draft from the open door, blowing forwards with a harshness that should have been brought with cold. Sam didn’t feel it, the wind that hit his skin did nothing to soothe the burn. If not for the fact that she was visiting he would’ve stripped down to his boxers already.

He stood from where he’d been perched on the edge of his bed, fists clenched tight. “Rowena-”

“Calm down,” she raised a hand as she closed the door behind her. “I’m here to help, aren’t I?” Another gust of wind blew through the open windows and she pulled a face. “My it’s cold in here, isn’t it?”

“No,” Sam grit out, chest heaving with heavy breaths as he watched her step forwards. It had become harder to ignore the worse it got, the memory of the cage, what Lucifer had done to him. Burned his skin until it was all gone and then healed him to start all over again. The smell of his own flesh was something he was never going to forget, part of him kept expecting to look down and see his arms on fire. But they weren’t, like some cruel trick on his mind. If not for Dean noticing that something was wrong he would’ve been convinced that he was going crazy again. “It’s hot, I’m hot, I can’t fucking cool down it feels like I’m on fire.”

Rowena’s tongue clicked against the roof of her mouth as she came to a stop directly in front of him. “Hm. Take your shirt off.”

“Huh?”

Her eyes rolled. “I need to see if you have any magic attached to you, and it’s easier without your clothes in the way,” perfectly manicured nails dragged against the fabric of his t-shirt before she smirked. “Trust me, I don’t mind.”

Maybe he wouldn’t have been so quick to agree on a regular day, especially with her looking at him like that, but he was both desperate for this to be over and also used to Rowena being Rowena, so there wasn’t much hesitation as he reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it up and over his head, dropping it down onto the floor.

Rowena made a show of looking him over, lips curled upwards at the corners.

“Rowena-”

“Alright, Samuel,” she sighed. “Forgive me for finding some enjoyment in the situation. Sit.” Her hand pressed to his chest and he flinched, expecting to feel the same burn that he’d felt from her earlier that day when she’d touched his arm, but Rowena’s palm felt cool against his flushed skin. It was actually nice, and he breathed out shakily as he allowed himself to be pushed backwards until he was seated on the edge of the mattress.

Rowena stepped forwards until she was stood between his legs, and then her hand was on his chest again. A pressure pushed through his ribs and he stiffened in the effort to keep still and let her search for any lingering magic attached to him. His eyes lifted to her face and he watched as her expression went from focused, to shocked, to… amused?

“Your symptoms,” she met his eyes as she pulled her hand back. “Tell me.”

“I’ve already told you-”

“Tell me again.”

Sam huffed out a frustrated breath and pushed a hand through his hair. “I’m hot, it feels like I’m burning from the inside out.”

She just continued to watch him.

“What?” He didn’t mean to snap but he was seriously losing his patience.

“Your other symptoms?” He opened his mouth to protest but she held up a hand. “Just be honest, Samuel. I think I know what the curse is.”

His jaw clenched. He’d never actually vocalised his crush to anybody before. Sure, maybe Dean wasn’t completely oblivious to have not noticed, but he’d never outright admitted it.

“I had this… dream, uh,” he ran a hand over his face, the heat in his cheeks now from embarrassment. “And it kinda stuck with me.”

Rowena was smirking. “And what was the nature of this wee dream, hm?”

He glowered at her. “I’m sure you know.”

“Oh I do, but it’s way more fun if you tell me,” he just continued glaring and she sighed. “You boys just have to suck the fun out of everything, don’t you?” She moved to sit on the bed beside him, and after adjusting her dress over her legs she turned to face him. “It’s called mali desiderii.”

“What does that mean?”

Her lips twitched again, like she was really trying to be serious. “It’s a curse that attaches itself to your deepest desire and makes you, well, want it.”

Sam swallowed around the dryness in his throat. “How dangerous is it?”

Rowena lifted a hand to gently circle her fingers around his wrist, her cool fingertips pressed against his pulse point felt nice. “You’re already burning up, and it’s only going to get worse. Unless you sate the desire, you’ll completely burn up from the inside out.”

He felt his stomach drop. “It’ll kill me?”

“Mhm, in a day or so, unless you deal with your little… problem,” She gestured to his jeans with a wicked smirk that made him want the ground to open up beneath him, before she sighed, a more genuine expression settling on her features. “Sam… she’s next door.” Her hand laid on his arm though that time he stiffened.

“I can’t just—”

“It doesn’t matter if you can’t. You’re going to have to,” she told him firmly, before her lips curved upwards again. “You never know, it might be something the both of you need. She’s smart, Samuel. If a big strong man came knocking on my door asking me to help him out, I’d… well, like I said, she’s smart.”

He grit his teeth and breathed out sharply. This was so stupid. She was his best friend, he couldn’t just turn up at her door and demand to have sex with her. “Isn’t there a cure or something?”

“This is the only way,” Rowena didn’t give him much time to think on it before her hand was on her knee, squeezing, then she stood up. “You’ll be fine. Trust me, out of all the things you could’ve been cursed with, this is definitely the most… pleasurable.”

At her smirk his stomach twisted uncomfortably, but still he stood up to let her out of the room. He didn’t bother to put his shirt back on, stood in the doorway as he watched Rowena climb into her car — a Porsche that he was certain didn’t belong to her the last time they spoke — the breeze of the night doing absolutely nothing to cool him down. As she pulled out of the parking lot he’d had a mind to go and tell Dean what was wrong, but he paused when his eyes landed on her door next to his.

Sate the desire, Rowena had said. Maybe on a typical day he wouldn’t have wanted to even approach the topic with her, save himself a lifetime of embarrassment when she inevitably turned him down, but this was his only shot. And the thought of finally having her was enough for his body to roll with another wave of aroused heat.

“Fucking crazy,” he breathed, hand lifting to knock on the door once he was stood in front of it. “This is fucking crazy.”

The door opened relatively quick and then there she was. She’d changed into her pyjamas since getting to the motel, a t-shirt and shorts that left him unable to help his gaze dragging up the length of her legs, imagining dipping between them. She really wasn’t making this fucking easy for him, was she?

“Sam?” She blinked, worried eyes widening as her gaze dragged downwards, and embarrassed he remembered he hadn’t put his shirt back on. Christ, this probably looked like the opening to a shitty porno. By the sounds of it, that’s how it was going to end up. Either that or he was going to die.

“Sorry,” he quickly blurted out, chest heaving with heavy breaths as his eyes fell down away from her face, before he caught himself staring at her legs and he had to look back up digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. Get a grip. “Sorry, uh… can I talk to you?”

Instantly she stepped aside. “Are you okay? Why was Rowena here?”

His teeth ground together with the realisation that Dean hadn’t told her that anything was wrong, either not to worry her or because he was just leaving it to Sam he wasn’t sure. He stepped into her room and exhaled sharply. The heat was getting bad, hands trembling as he pushed sweaty hair out of his face and turned back to face her.

“Sam you don’t look so good,” her eyebrows were pinched together in such worry. “Can I get you anything? Do you want some water? You look a little sick, you sit down and I’ll just-”

“It’s a curse,” he just got out. “One of the witches yesterday cursed me. That's why Rowena was here.”

She looked… god, the look on her face, she looked so devastated for him. “I- cursed? How bad is it? Are you okay?” She rushed forwards and touched his arm sympathetically, and usually it would’ve been nice — she was sweet, she was always physically affectionate but always more so with him than Dean. There had been many times they’d held hands on a hunt when either one of them was unnerved, or on nights where they could only get a motel with two beds or had to sleep in the car she always chose to sleep with him. Curled up with no choice but to hold each other in a small twin bed or the backseat of the Impala he’d always felt comfortable with her.

But her touch then on his arm, it felt like being singed. He jerked backwards and hated the way she looked at him when he did it. “Sorry,” he breathed her name like a plea, the last thing he wanted was to make her feel bad with what he was about to ask of her. “I’m… hot. The curse is burning me up and if I don’t do something about it then I’ve… got a day.”

“A day?” Her voice broke and it shattered something deep in his soul. “Sam, I… Rowena has a cure right?”

His eyes squeezed shut tightly and he took in a sharp breath. This was it. “It’s a, uh… well, there’s one thing I can do but it’s- I’d be asking a lot of you.”

Her response was immediate. “Anything.”

Steeling himself he finally just pushed out, “it’s a sex curse.”

She blinked at him. “What?”

“It’s a- god, this is so stupid. It’s a sex curse. If I don’t have sex in the next day then I’ll die.” Saying it out loud he realised just how ridiculous it was, how this really was just some fucking stupid porno, something he’d catch Dean quickly shutting off in the motel whenever he got back. “It really is stupid huh? Fuck, I don’t even-”

“Okay.”

It was his turn to blink at her. “What?”

“I said okay,” she hesitated before stepping forwards, like she was expecting him to jerk away from her again. “I’m not gonna let you… the curse isn’t gonna take over, okay? Of all the ways we’ve dealt with curses before this is actually a pretty easy fix.”

He was just staring at her. “But I can’t ask you to-”

“You aren’t asking, I’m offering,” the control in her voice made his cock throb in his jeans and he bit back a groan. It’d be nice to finally get some fucking relief. “This is gonna be easier than you going out to a bar and finding someone, Sam, and I trust you,” a pause then, her voice went softer. “And you trust me. Or at least I hope so.”

“‘Course I do,” he breathed. “But-”

“Sam,” she stepped forwards until she was right in front of him then, until he could smell her perfume and feel her breath hit his chest. “Let me. Please.”

Any restraint he’d been clinging onto snapped in that moment.

Giving in to the curse, at first, felt like being possessed, like watching from inside his body as he acted upon it. His hands cupped her jaw as he stepped closer, tipping down until he caught her mouth with his, hard, all desperation and lust as he licked and sucked at her bottom lip only just hesitating enough to not slip his tongue into her mouth immediately. She was making soft breathy sounds through her nose and it was making everything worse, his veins burned hotter and his cock was so achingly hard that he couldn’t help his hands sliding down to her hips and gripping hard as he started walking them back to her bed.

But he was shaking, his breathing all heavy and hot in his throat, the fever was still clinging to his bones and the curse made it hard to think about anything. His hands had just slipped beneath her shirt when she leaned back with a huff of breath, her palm pressed flat against his chest.

“Sam.” She breathed, heavy but concerned, eyes all soft and crinkled at the corners as she looked up at him.

“Yeah?”

Her fingers travelled down to gently start threading the leather of his belt through his buckle. The sight of her hands so close to where he needed them was almost enough to just cum in his boxers thinking about her. Again.

“Let me… let me take care of you, okay?” She breathed, pulling the belt free and then working open his zipper. “You’re shaking, let me do this,” she leaned forwards and kissed his chest and he shuddered. “Let me help you.”

All he could do was nod dumbly, hands squeezing at her hips as she unzipped his jeans and pushed them down his legs until he could step out of them. She hesitated as he fingers touched the waistband of his boxers, but he nodded, and she pulled those down too.

For a moment he was too distracted by the curse to really take much in, just panting softly as he waited for the inevitable relief. But when he did catch sight of her face, the way her eyes drifted down to his cock, hard and leaking like it had been all day, the way she swallowed, fuck.

“Come here.” He breathed, lustful and needy and possessive all in one, and then his mouth was on hers again as he took the final two steps back to her bed and sat down on the edge of the mattress. Sam moved to pull her in immediately but she paused to quickly slip her shorts and underwear down her legs, and only then did she let him pull her onto his lap, straddling his thighs.

If he was a little more with it, he’d have felt bad. In all the times he’d thought of being able to finally have her, it had gone differently. He’d been sweet and kissed her softly, taken her to dinner or for some drinks, they’d dressed nice and he’d complimented how pretty she was. He’d been gentle with her, taken his time, hadn’t wanted to rush it. She deserved better than the rushed desperation coursing through his veins, but he couldn’t help himself.

Sam was kissing her again once she was close enough. A hand slid up her back, soft skin beneath his palm, before he gripped her shirt and panted out, “can I take this off?”

Only when she nodded did he grip the hem and lift it up and over her head, dropping it on the floor with the rest of their clothes.

He allowed himself one moment to stare and take her in; chest rising and falling heavily, hardened nipples, soft thighs slotted over his like they belonged, her lips kiss-bitten and wet with their spit. Sam wasn’t entirely sure which part was the most devastating.

“God-” he choked, fingers curling around her hipbones again. “Look at you.”

Her chin tucked towards her chest all bashfully, and for a moment the flicker of guilt touched him. She deserved better than this.

But then her fingers wrapped around his cock and through the white-hot pleasure any other thoughts were wiped from his mind.

A grunt escaped his throat and his eyes squeezed shut, his grip on her hips tightening. “Shit-”

She shifted on top of him, lifting up on her knees to line his cock up with her entrance, and even if the feeling of his tip kissing her folds was enough for his head to spin a little he still stopped her with a squeeze of her hips.

“Are you ready? I mean…” Sam wasn’t stupid. He knew he was big, bigger than most. When he’d been with Jess he’d learned exactly how many fingers he needed to stretch her out before she could comfortably take him. He needed to feel her more than anything but he didn’t want to hurt her.

“It’s okay,” she breathed, and leaned down to kiss him again. “I can take it.”

Her tongue pushed past his lips and he moaned into her mouth as she slowly sank down onto him.

Nothing he had ever felt compared to that moment.

Charged, sparking pleasure exploded in his gut, shooting through his veins making every nerve ending tingle. Fuck. This was the relief he’d been craving, the lust he hadn’t been able to sort out himself with his hand or how much he could imagine in his head.

Her pussy squeezed tightly around him as she sank down slowly and for a moment all he could do was pant into the skin of her neck as he held onto her, grunting into her throat the deeper she took him and the tighter she clenched around him. Once he was sheathed all the way inside of her his breath punched out of him heavily. Somehow he hadn’t blown his load right then.

“You feel-” he whined as she shifted, rubbing against her gummy walks and spending more sparks of pleasure through him, “so fucking good, that’s- yeah, that’s it.”

She shifted again and that time it was her who whined, her palms hot on his shoulders as they grabbed at the muscle there. “Sam,” she breathed his name against his ear. “You’re so deep.”

He had a feeling he’d be getting hard over that sentence for the rest of his life.

“Can I-” her voice was trembling, and when he glanced up at her she looked a fucking picture — eyes all blown out, lips parted and panting, expression pinched in pleasure. “Can I keep moving?”

He couldn’t find his voice so he just nodded, and at the first shift of her hips his eyes rolled back and he moaned.

Time seemed to blur. He found himself able to release the death grip on her hips and instead smoothed his palms over her back, as his head tipped forwards to lick and suck at her neck. He’d never felt anything like this, it was like being high. Each squeeze of her cunt around his cock stole the breath from his lungs, made the magic from the curse flare inside of him in a way that had his hairs standing on end and his cock throbbing where it was held deep inside of her.

Noises were pulled from him without any of his say so. Keening whined and gasps of her name whenever she shifted. Her fingers tangled in his hair at one point and pulled and he almost completely lost it then.

She didn’t seem to be in a different state to him, if he knew any better he’d have said she was cursed from the way she was clinging onto him, panting his name and squeezing his cock inside of her.

This completely blew his dream out of the water.

“Hah- I’m-” It took an embarrassingly short time to get there, but given the heat bubbling inside of him he really did need the release sooner rather than later. “Fuck honey m’gonna cum-”

Her breath was hot on his cheek as her temple pressed to his, hips rolling and cunt squeezing along with her whimpered, “please Sammy.”

Sam watched as her hand dipped between them to rub at her clit with each roll of her hips and with the next time his tip brushed against her cervix he was gone.

He was certain that the sound that left him then he had never made before. Almost animalistic, in any other situation he would’ve found himself embarrassed, but the way pleasure shot up his spine, through his veins, made him shudder and gasp into her throat as his orgasm literally whitened his vision, he wasn’t in control of anything he was doing. It literally took his breath away, made his ears ring, one moment he was holding the back of her neck and kissing at her throat and the next he had his forehead pressed to her shoulder as he heaved breaths against her chest.

She must’ve cum too, not that he’d been able to even realise in the moment, but she’d also slumped into him, arms draped over his shoulders as she melted into him.

For one long moment, it was the best he’d ever felt.

“Hey,” she eventually whispered, leaned back to meet his eyes with hers, all soft and caring. “How do you feel? Did it work?”

“I think so.” He murmured, still trying to catch his breath.

His hands were more gentle on her hips as he helped her move off of him, hissing through his teeth as his cock slipped out of her, though he rubbed her back once she was sat on the bed beside him.

There was a flare inside of his chest, and then it hit him. That time it was almost unbearable, left him breathless with the fire that rolled through him. His eyes squeezed shut and his fists curled up as he winced in pain.

It hadn’t worked.

“Sam?” Her hand burned against his back. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

He couldn’t help it, tears stung in his eyes then. “It didn’t fucking work.”

His breathing was sharp as he looked back up at her then, and the way her expression dropped made everything else sink in. What the fuck was the point of that? Sure, he’d wanted her for a long time, but not like that. She deserved to be taken care of, treated like an angel and kissed sweetly and loved on. Instead she’d had him like that — sweaty and gross and needy — and she’d had to do all the work. Let alone the fact it was all pointless anyways, he was still going to die.

“I thought you said Rowena said it’d work,” she breathed, voice so soft and scared. “What did she say to you? Maybe we did it wrong or something.”

Sam pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes hard, hands shaking. “She said I need to sate my desire.”

She frowned at him then. “That doesn’t mean sex, Sam.”

“Hm?”

“Your… desire, that doesn’t have to mean sex,” she turned to face him a little more. Their lack of clothes and post-orgasm exhaustion was momentarily ignored as her hand found his and squeezed. The heat made his fingers tingle. “It just means what you want the most. And I mean it obviously wasn’t sex with me,” her fingers squeezed his. “So what is it?”

His breath left him in a rush. “You.”

She blinked at him. “But it didn’t-”

“Not the sex,” his hand squeezed hers tightly. “You. You’re my best friend and I… I’m in love with you. I don’t even know when it happened but you’re all I can think about all the time.”

She was just staring at him with those wide eyes of hers, mouth opening and closing a few times before she could actually form a response. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?” She eventually pressed, soft.

A bitter laugh left him then. “What would be the point? I care more about you than what I want. I was happy to just stay friends- I am happy to do that,” he pushed out a sharp breath and dragged his fingers through his hair. “But it doesn’t fucking matter anymore. Because it’s not going to happen and I’m going to die.”

“Sam,” her hand gripped his tightly and when he looked up at her face she was scowling. “You’re an idiot.”

Before he could even think of a response she’d leaned in and then her mouth was on his. The kiss was soft, more gentle than their lust fuelled kisses from before, the plus warmth of her lips against his making his gut curl tighter than when she’d been grinding on his cock.

Her forehead pressed to his as she pulled away and her whispered words hit his ears, “I love you too.”

Sam leaned back enough to look at her. “What?” He breathed. “I- don’t just say that because I want to hear it.”

“Sam,” her fingers were gentle as they cupped his face. “I love you.”

The fire disappeared with a tingling hiss like he’d been dunked in ice water. Each heated nerve ending and muscle was instantly soothed with a coolness that made him groan as she kissed him again. Soothing cold ran up the length of his spine, down his arms, into his fingertips as he cupped her face and kissed her, lovingly, his tongue sweeping over her lips and pressing into her mouth saying everything that in that moment he couldn’t.

“God,” he breathed, all shaky, fingers stroking through her hair. “You- how long?”

She giggled as she looked up at him, eyes all crinkled at the corners as she smiled. “A while,” her hand lifted and laid flat on his chest. “How do you feel?”

“Better,” he sighed, fingertips gentle on her skin. “I think it broke it. I think you… you’re incredible.”

Her smile was like the sun. “Ditto.”

Sam laughed, the lightest he’d felt all day, both of them smiling too much when he went to kiss her again and he ended up kissing her teeth. “Ditto? All of that just to get a ditto?”

She was giggling against his mouth as his hands smoothed over soft skin, fingers tracing down her spine as he leaned over her, cupping the backs of her thighs so he could manoeuvre her onto her back. Laid beneath him like that, her pretty eyes and her pretty mouth and all of her that loved him, the feeling pressing against his ribs was no longer a heat, a curse, it was something much more magical.

His head dipped to kiss along her throat as her thighs pressed against his hips, drawing him closer. “I love you,” he whispered into her skin, a promise. “I love you.”

She was still wet from before, her chest brushing against his with each needy pant she made, so it was like second nature for his hand to reach between them until he could press his cock up against her, dragging the tip through her wetness until he caught her entrance and sank in slowly, the grip of her cunt around him making him moan into her throat as his hand found hers, fingers lacing through hers and pressing it down onto the mattress.

“Sam,” she moaned as his hips rolled, his cock nudging that soft spongy spot on the inside of her walls that made her whine when he hit it right. “Oh- fuck that’s-”

His tongue soothed over bruises he was sucking into the skin of her neck as he fucked her into the mattress gently, hands carressing and worshiping her. She deserved better than him, he knew that, deep down he knew she deserved everything he couldn’t give her and more.

But she wanted him. She wanted him. How could he deny her?

He moaned against her ear as he started fucking her a little deeper. His hand slid down her side to cup the back of one of her thighs, bringing it up and over his hip to press further into her slick cunt with each thrust.

There was a haziness in the room, not caused by a veil of a dream or curse, but the kind of desire that made somebody’s head spin with it. The bed beneath them a bare, plain motel standard, wales just as plain, but his focus was solely on her beneath him.

This wasn’t a dream. It was real. He had her.

“Sam I’m-” her voice trembled with each gasp she let out. Her nails dug into his shoulders that sent delicious sparks of pain down his spine where they dug in. Her cunt was clenched tightly around him, he could tell she was close, the way her gummy walls fluttered around his cock each time he sank himself back inside of her. “Please.”

He would do anything for her if she begged him like that.

“You’re okay, honey,” he breathed into her throat with another kiss. The image of their last round briefly flashed in his mind, her fingertips pressed to her clit when she got close, and he removed his hand from her thigh to dip between them. They were both soaked with leftover cum from before and new aroused slick that collected at the base of his cock. His fingers dragged through the wetness briefly before the pads of his fingers pressed against her clit where he started rubbing small circles that made her clench tighter around him, a whine punching up and out of her throat that made his gut clench. Fuck. “That's it, good girl, just feel it.”

Her hands gripped tight to his shoulders and she whined right in his ear. He almost came right then. “I’m- Sam-”

She shuddered against him as she came and Christ. The feeling of her pussy pulsing around his cock in waves as her orgasm dragged a breathless moan out of her throat was too much for him to handle. He only managed two more thrusts before he followed her, groaning into her skin as he rutted twice more into her before finally stilling on top of her.

For a moment, time didn’t move.

His fingers stroked feather-light up and across her ribs as he dotted kisses against her neck and jaw, until he finally lifted his head to press a soft kiss to her mouth.

“Hi.” She whispered when he leaned back and he smiled, a sweet loving thing.

“Hi, you,” he murmured, stroking her ribs. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, all flushed as she stole another kiss, her fingers stroking his hair made him relax. A thought nagged at him that he was sweaty and gross and he sighed, expression shifting to something a little more serious.

“I’m sorry.”

She frowned at him. “For what? Sam that was… that was great.”

He shook his head. “You should’ve had something better. I’m… I’m gross and sweaty and it was so rushed and I should’ve taken my time with you and… I’m just sorry.”

Her hand lifted to cup his cheek. “Don’t say that,” she leaned up and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead and he just about melted. “We broke the curse. I just saved your life, mister, I think that’s pretty great to me.”

He was still frowning. “I know but-”

“Sam,” Her finger pressed to his lips. “It was good. I promise.”

She kissed him again, soft and slow and gentle, and time melted again.

Eventually they pulled away from each other, and since he hadn’t taken care of her in the moment, he made sure to completely care for her in the aftermath. He got a wet cloth from the bathroom and gently wiped her clean before himself, and kissed her forehead before he left again to run the shower for her so that the water would be nice and warm by the time she stepped in. There was a relaxing domesticity to the way they stepped around each other with gentle shared kisses and whispered comforts until she took up the shower first.

Once the room was full of the scent of her shampoo and the gentle pitter of the shower on the other side of the bathroom door he found his phone and thought it was best he told Rowena it had worked.

“Samuel,” she greeted in that delighted tone of hers she had whenever they spoke. “How's the heat?”

“The uh, the curse is broken. I’m fine now.”

He could picture her grin through the phone. “Marvellous. I knew you could do it. It hasn’t been that long since I left, dearie, she must’ve been quite eager to help.”

He ignored the heat that rose to his face. “Yeah, well… thanks for your help, Ro.”

“You’re welcome, pet. I got started on the cure just in case you didn’t have it in you so I’ll send it your way once I’m finished in case you happen to ever need it.”

Sam stilled. “You told me there wasn’t a cure.”

“Aye, I suppose I did. It’s a pretty simple potion, actually. I just thought this way would be a little more… beneficial for you and your love.”

“Rowena-”

“I’ve got to go now, Samuel, but I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

The line went dead and he lowered his phone, sitting with what she’d just told him for a moment, that there had been a cure, a simple one. But then his eyes trailed up to the closed bathroom door, the soft humming behind it reaching his ears, and he just laughed.

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