#professor sam

After working for a bit, you had come to some conclusions about Bela Talbot: 1) you couldn’t stand her, 2) she was dumb as a box of rocks, and 3) she clearly had undiagnosed ADHD, because she couldn’t pay attention or focus on anything for more than a few minutes.

“Dammit, Bela! Would you stop looking at your phone and listen to what I’m saying?” Charlie snapped for at least the fourth time.

Bela closed her book and began to pack up.  “I have to go.  I have...a thing” she said lamely. “See you two later.” She sashayed out the door, drawing everyone’s eyes to her as she left.

“I hate her so much, Y/N,” Charlie told you, her eyes very serious.  

You nodded in agreement, your face a mask of frustration.  “How the hell did she get into law school?”

“I have no idea how she got into college, period.” Charlie commented, rolling her eyes.

You had a meeting with your adviser that afternoon, and then you were heading over to Sam's place for a late dinner. You needed to shake this dark mood Bela had put you in before you saw Sam.

You didn't want him to think you couldn't handle the prickly Omega. You were going to make this project work if it killed you.

Your advisor's office was down the hall from Sam's. You had just finished your meeting and were leaving when you saw Bela leave Sam's office, buttoning her shirt and looking very pleased with herself.

Your first inclination was to punch Bela in her smug face, and then barge into Sam's office and demand to know just what the FUCK was going on. But you couldn't do that, of course. Sam was supposed to be your professor, nothing more.

If you ran into his office screaming like a possessive Omega, everyone would know your secret.  But you WOULD find out what had just happened, one way or another

You were late getting to Sam’s, and he already had dinner laid out. When he leaned in and kissed you, you barely gave him a peck before pulling away.  Sam raised an eyebrow but said nothing.  You were sure he could feel the anger rolling off you in waves.

"How was your day?" He asked you.

"Pretty crappy, how about yours?" You tried to keep your tone neutral.

"Interesting." He told you, running his hands through his hair with a sigh.

"How so?"

"You won't believe what happened to me, I still can't." Sam looked very annoyed, not turned on in the slightest.

"Tell me." You urged him softly.

"One of my students had requested a meeting. And right in the middle of it, she started taking her clothes off, and told me she'd fuck me if I gave her an A." Sam's jaw got tight at the memory.

"You don't say?" You commented neutrally, your face expressionless.

"Why don't you seem surprised?" He asked as he leaned in and tried to catch your eye. You refused to look at him.

"What did you do when Bela took off her clothes, Sam?" You asked quietly, looking him in the eyes, finally.

"I told her to get out of my office and if she ever did anything like that again, I would fail her AND report her."

"I saw her coming out of your office. I had a meeting with my adviser today. She was buttoning her shirt and looking so damn smug. I wanted to smack her in her stupid, conceited face!" You didn't try to hide the anger in your voice.

Sam grinned at you. "Jealous, Omega?"

"Maybe. I don't share, Sam. Especially not with entitled Omega sluts like Bela Talbot. She is the reason for my crappy day." You wrinkled your nose in distaste.

"What did she do to you?" Sam asked curiously.

"You know Charlie and I got stuck with her in our group. Thanks for that, by the way." You stuck your tongue out at him. It was childish, but you didn't care.

Sam held up his hands beseechingly. "I'm sorry! I didn't know she was like this.”

"She is lazy, easily distracted, and she and Charlie are at each others throats. She has no discernible people skills, and we pretty much hate each other. Our group is a train wreck." You closed your eyes, as though laying it out had exhausted you.

"Wow. Tell me what you really think, Y/N." Sam commented dryly.

The warm lips that were suddenly sliding down your neck made you gasp. "Maybe I can make it up to you?" Sam whispered, his hands buried in your hair.

"You are welcome to try." You said with a low chuckle. "But I don't know if that is even possible. She is that awful."

"Sounds like I've got my work cut out for me." Sam commented, smiling that sexy dimpled smile you loved. "There is only one Omega in my class I want, and it definitely isn't Bela Talbot." He said as he scooped you up in his arms and carried up the stairs to his bedroom.

He laid you gently on the bed, the long length of his body covering yours as he kissed thoroughly, pulling a moan from your lips.

Both of you were impatient. You wanted to remind Sam that he was yours, and Sam wanted to reassure you he was. When he couldn't get his shirt off fast enough, you ripped it free, scattering buttons everywhere.

You were like an animal, nipping and scratching at whatever piece of Sam's skin you could reach. When his warm mouth latched onto your nipple you almost catapulted off the bed.  

"Condom!" You managed to grunt as Sam's mouth came off with an audible 'pop'.

"On your knees Omega." He said roughly, the Alpha in his voice causing you to scramble to obey.

"Now there is a beautiful sight." He commented as he rubbed his cock through your folds, causing you to whimper. He slid into you, grabbing your hair and pulling your head back as he slammed into you hard over and over like he knew you needed.

"Don't doubt me again, Y/N. I'm yours. I don't cheat." He said through gritted teeth as he began to falter. "I'm close."

"Sam!" You wailed as you came hard, clenching around him and pushing him over the edge. He came with a roar and collapsed on top of you, pinning you to the bed.

"You're heavy." You muttered as your face was squashed into the mattress.  Sam got up to dispose of the condom and get you a towel. He handed it to you and slid back into bed, putting his arms around you. "Better?"

"Much." You said with a grin. "Now I just have to figure out how I am supposed to not kill Bela for going after my man."

"Relax, Y/N. She's just lazy and doesn't want to do the work. I shut her down. She's harmless." Sam said as he stifled a yawn.

I turned to him, incredulous. "She’s not exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer.  My gut tells me she slept and cheated her way through school. I've met Omegas like her before, Sam.  Bela Talbot is anything but harmless."

"Hi, uh, are you Professor Winchester?" you ask with a small smile, fingers coiled together and showing nervousness. 

"I am," he leans back in his chair slightly, cocking his head to the side as you exhaled quietly. "Please sit down."

"Um, my name is [Y/N], and I've been having some trouble with one of my classes," you begin with a shy smile after placing yourself in the seat in from of his desk. "I've tried SI and tutoring, but it's not really getting me anywhere."

"Did you try small group or one-on-one tutoring?" he asks, making a mental note of your name. 

You seem like a sweet girl, if not exactly his type.

"I tried both," you sigh. "So I asked my professor if a transfer to another teacher's class would be a good idea. He recommended that I see you first, to discuss my options and see if you might be able to help me without all the hassle of changing classes."

"I'd be happy to help, [Y/N]," he gives you a smile and leans forward to click a few buttons on his computer. "What is your current professor's name?"

"Dr. Lindt," you state, and he types the unfamiliar name into his computer. 

"Dr. Lindt is a pre-law professor, you do know that right?" he asks, reading the title and biography of the older professor. 

"Um... Yes sir," you nod unsurely. 

"What did you say your major was again?" Dean asks, flickering his gaze to you in confusion. 

Why was a pre-law student coming to the history department? 

"Um... Pre-law," you remark, your confusion evident in your face. "I'm sorry, didn't you say you were Professor Winchester? Aren't you one of the professors in the pre-law department, sir?"

"Oh," he laughs, leaning back into his rolling chair with an easy grin. "You're looking for Sam."

"Pardon?" you ask, and he stands up quickly, making his way to the front of the desk where you are sitting. 

"You're looking for my brother, Sam Winchester," he explains, and your face contorts in understanding. "I'm Dean Winchester, with the history department."

"Oh, so you're... Oh. I must have checked the wrong room online," you feel heat rising to your cheeks. "I'm so sorry to bother you."

"It's no problem," he says as you stand up. "I can show you to his office, if you'd like."

"I'd hate to waste more of your time," you return shyly. 

"Sweetheart, does it look like I have anything to do?" he asks, gesturing to his empty desk. "I'll show you, it's just down the hallway."

"Thank you, sir," you rush out as he makes his way to the door and holds it open. You shuffle through, moving away so that he can lead. 

"You're not the first person that's had this happen, don't worry," he reassures you as he walked quietly down the hall. "Sam just joined our faculty this semester, and there's been some confusion signing up for meetings and such. I'm sure it will be cleared out and fixed by next semester, after they've had both of us for a while."

"So... He's a new professor?" you ask, rounding the corner and passing by a vending machine. 

"He is, and smarter than half the ones who've been working here for years," Dean acknowledges. "Here you go, right here."

He knocks on the door before opening it. 

"Sammy, I have a student who's looking for you," he states, pushing the door open to reveal his longer haired younger brother. 

"You must be [Y/N]," Sam says from behind his desk. "I was starting to wonder if you'd skipped out on our appointment."

"Oh, no sir. I just got a little mixed up and wound up in his office," you point to his older brother, who gives him a wink and closes the door, leaving the two of you together. "I'm sorry about all of that. I didn't realize there were two Professor Winchesters here."

"It's no problem," he grins standing up and moving to a small table with some beverages. "Please sit. Would you like any coffee or tea?"

"Oh, no thank you," you shake your head. "I don't want to be a bother."

"It's no bother to me," he says as he fills a mug of tea and returns to his desk. "So tell me a little bit about you, Miss [Y/L/N]."

"Um, I'm pre-law, I'm sure you saw that when I scheduled a meeting," you inform him nervously, twisting your hands together. 

You’ve never been one for speaking to older or more experienced people, and the fact that you’ve already made such a big mix up has you frazzled. 

"I did, with a minor in criminal justice?" he prompts, and you nod. 

"Yes sir," you agree quickly. "I'd like to see many aspects of law, and I figured if I at least had a minor in criminal justice, it might help me in the long run. Whether getting a job or defending a case. I know it's kinda pointless, because a lot of it is the same, but... I just wanted to do it and... I don't know, I don't really have a very good reason."

"Hey," he says gently, and your gaze lifts to his. "Calm down a little, take a deep breath." He takes one and you mimic the motion, feeling your hands slow their shaking a little bit. "It's okay, I'm gonna try to help you as best as I can. No need to be nervous."

"Sorry, I just... Professors make me nervous, especially ones I don't know," you admit, twiddling your thumbs slightly. "I'm not much of a people person, and talking to people makes me anxious, especially when I'm wrong or talking to the wrong person for five minutes before I realize it."

"Well, you have no need to be nervous or worry, if that helps any. I don't judge students looking for help," he says with a smile. "Hell, I was a student up until this past year. I know how intimidating it can all be."

"Yeah, that's sorta my problem..." you murmur with a sheepish smile. "Have you ever met a lawyer that's scared to talk to people?"

He gives a smile at this, and it makes you sigh softly, relaxing under his genialness. 

"Can't say that I have," he admits. "But that's okay. Once you get into the groove it'll get easier, and you'll give less of a shit what other people think."

Your eyebrows raise and he gives a little smirk. 

"Pardon my language," he states. "But that's the most effective way to get the point across."

"Well..." you sigh softly. "I hope you're right."

"So let's get into some business, shall we?" he says, and you nod. "You want a transfer and they told you to come to me first."

"Um... Yes sir. I was looking to transfer into your class," you admit, your head dipping slightly. "I looked through your syllabus and I noticed that you don't have as many um... Active participation grades."

"Because you don't like to talk to people," he checks, and you nod. "So you'd rather sit back and listen to a lecture than get hands on and debate."

"Yes sir," you wring your hands in front of yourself. "I can handle presentations, but I don't like debates."

"[Y/N], I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but my class is actually heavily based on debates and mock trials," he tells you, watching your shoulders fall. "I don't take the debates for a grade, but I do still have them, and many aspects of the trials and debates we work through wind up on my tests. I believe in hands-on applications."

"Oh. I see," you exhale, your form drooping. "Well... Maybe I'd best stay in the class I'm in now."

"Why don't you come to one of my lectures and see?" he asks gently, noticing your discourage at finding help for your problem. "My students are amazingly supportive of each other, I think you might really grow to like debates and trials if you could see them from a positive view, rather than how a lot of the other teachers portray it as a competition."

"Isn't it a competition, though?" you ask, frowning. 

"It is, but..." he pauses when you look away, and he waits for your attention once more before continuing. "...positive criticism and understanding make a world of difference in the performance of a student. For you, dreading a debate gives a negative aspect before you even begin. You need the positivity, I think."

"Thanks for the offer, but I really just..." you sigh and looks to your lap. 

"Come to one lecture, please?" his voice softens, as he can see the inner turmoil that you are going through. "You don't have to participate unless you'd like to. But I really think that seeing how I teach would be beneficial to you."

"I'll... I'll give it some thought," you finally agree, and he smiles. 

"I'm glad to hear that," he says. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"No, I think..." you sigh. "I think that about did it, if not a little more than I was expecting."

"Hey," he stands up as you rise to your feet, crossing to the front of his desk to pat your shoulder gently. "I want to help you however I can. If you don't want to come for a lecture, you don't have to. I don't want to pressure you if you already don't want to do it."

"I just thought this might be an easy fix," you whisper, fixing your bag over your shoulders. "I was stupid enough to think that I could just transfer classes and have it magically be fixed."

"Sometimes it is that easy," he tells you. "Like I said, I don't take grades for participation, and if you don't feel like participating then you can just watch. But I'd love to see you come out of your shell and I think that you might be able to do that if you were in my class. You seem like an intelligent woman, and a good-hearted one at that."

"Thank you, Professor Winchester," you smile sadly. "I'll think about your offer."

~

Tell me what you thought!

~

Forevers:

@dslocum89 @thesupernaturalmoose1967 @queencflair @sisterwinchesterwriter @ambivalent-timid-nefelibata @ria132love

Series Tags: 

"Oh, s-sorry," you stutter as you pull away from the looming figure you bumped into.

"No problem," the voice returns, and you grin as you take a chance to look him over.

And who should it be other than Professor Sam Winchester?

"O-Oh. Professor," you smile at him happily, nudging his shoulder. "I didn't know you drank."

"[Y/N]," he offers you a flirtatious grin, taking a sip of his whiskey. "I drink occasionally."

"Well," you exhale. "You look great right now, Sir."

He clears his throat, moving closer to you to block a man that was on his way advancing toward you.

"[Y/N], we've been over this. Professor or Sam," he corrects you. "Not Sir."

"You know, I was thinking about that," you cock your head to the side. "Why don't you like it? I know you told me before, but I think you were lying.”

A small smile quirks the edge of his lip as you chew on your bottom lip.

"And then I was thinking," you point at him, your finger hitting his chest a little under dead center. "What if you do like it? What if you're kinky? What if you like to be called Sir?"

All inhibitions are gone at this point. You don’t care. You’re following Tess’ advice and putting yourself out there. Nearly a week of being sick has made you realize how little time you actually have, and damn it if you’re gonna at least try.

"[Y/N], I find it intriguing that you've spent so much time thinking about this," he says coolly.

"There's always been something about you that I couldn't put my finger on," you tell him. "And now I know. You like to be called Sir. You're so kinky, Professor. Oh, I mean, Sir."

"[Y/N]," he hushes, his gaze darkening. "If I were you, I'd finish your drink and go home."

"Are you gonna make me, Sir?" you taunt, leaning closer to him.

"You're treading a dangerous line," he tells you, watching you cautiously as you stepped closer to him.

"I know," you return, slipping your fingers into his belt to pull him toward you. He doesn't move, and you bite your bottom lip. "I like dangerous things.”

The drinks have washed away all inhibitions. Fuck it, you tell yourself. Let’s see what happens.

"Hands off, little girl," he growls lowly, and your lips burst into a grin.

"I knew it," you breathe. "I knew it. You have a kink!"

His big hands circle your wrists and pull them away from his waist, his gaze looking up to the few people around them.

"[Y/N], it's in both of our best interest for you to stop," he says quietly.

"Why? Are you embarrassed?" you sing, a cheesy grin on your lips. "Kinky, but only on the downlow. You could totally write a book. Be the new Fifty Shades."

"Okay," he shakes his head, taking your hand to lead you off the dance floor and toward the bar. He gets the bartender's attention with a lift of a hand. "She needs a water. She's cut off."

The bartender nods, pulling out a glass and filling it with water before placing it in front of you.

"I'm not drunk," you remark. "Just tipsy. You didn't have to get me water."

"Drink your water. Now," he says quietly, and you shoot him a look as you place the glass to your lips and take a sip.

"So bossy," you mumble, shaking your head. This was a good sign, right? Him taking care of you was good, right?

"I'm only bossy because you pissed me off, little girl," he breathes, and you shiver happily at the name. "Where are your keys?"

"They're in my pocket," you tell him, smirking up at him. "You gonna go looking through my pockets, Sir?"

"I'm making sure you're not driving yourself home," he states as he holds out his hand. You stare at him for a few moments, watching his face darken. "Now, little girl."

A grin spreads across your lips as you reach into your pocket. You pull out your car and house keys and place them into his extended hand, sipping on your water.

"I'm going to give these to my brother, and he'll get your car home safely," Sam says quietly. "Don't move from this spot, little girl."

"I won't. Sir," you lean on the counter, watching him as he threaded through people in an attempt to find his brother.

A smile finds its way to your lips, and you swirl your water, listening to the clinking of ice in your glass.

This is going good so far. Maybe this was a good idea.

He comes back to you, his face set in an impassive expression, and he drops a few bills on the counter.

"For hers and my tabs," he says to the bartender, who nods and takes the money.

"I can pay for my own drinks," you mutter.

"I'm sure you can," he returns. "Let's go, you've had enough."

"Why? Cause I found out your dirty little secret? Sir," you tack on, slipping from the barstool and evening out your dress.

"Because I said you've had enough, [Y/N]," he grunts, taking your hand and leading you out of the bar.

"Are you taking me home? Because that's fucking hot," you state, flashing him a smile.

"There's a number of things I want to do to you right now," he breathes, opening a car door for you. "Get in and buckle in."

"Make me," you cross your arms over your chest.

"Little girl, you've been testing my patience," he presses you into the car, his hips pressed to yours. He lowers his lips close to your ear, his breath warm and making you shiver. "I don't think you realize how close you are to getting your cute little ass spanked."

"Ooh, you're gonna spank me?" you bite your bottom lip. "I've never tried that before. But I think I might like it."

He’s quiet. Did you go too far?

"I'm not going to do anything," he finally sighs. "No matter how much I want to. You've been drinking and can't properly consent."

"But what if I can?" you raise an eyebrow at him. "I can still say yes and no even if I've been drinking."

"Maybe after you've gotten some food and water in you, we'll talk," he suggests. "Now get in the car and buckle in."

"Yes Sir," you purr, and a small smile quirks at his lips.

He walks around the car to the driver's side, climbing in as you did so.

He watches you buckle your seat belt before looking over at him, flashing a smile.

It melts his world a little.

He turns the car on and puts it in reverse, looking over his shoulder to make sure no one is in his way.

You just watch him, looking at the curve of his jaw and the wave of his hair and the concentrated expression in his eyes.

He smirks as he catches your stare, and he moves a hand over to rest on your thigh as he drives.

You exhale happily, your cheeks lightly flushed as you looked out the window. Was this really happening right now? You can’t believe it.

"What are you thinking about, [Y/N]?" he asks after several long minutes of quiet.

"That some people would say this is wrong," you breathe. "But it doesn't feel wrong to me."

He exhales heavily, making a move to pull his hand away, but you quickly grab it and return it to your thigh.

"[Y/N], this is wrong," he states. "I don't know who I was trying to fool. This is wrong. I should take you home."

"No, please don't," you look up at him quickly. "It's not wrong. I'd feel different if it were wrong. I want this."

"[Y/N], you're one of my students," he says softly. "If that's not wrong, then I don't know what is."

"I'm old enough to make my own decisions. I can speak for my own actions, and I say that this isn't wrong," you tell him. "If I had gone to a different college, studied a different degree... I'd still be here tonight, regardless of if you were my professor or someone I bumped into while dancing."

"I know that, but the circumstances aren't different," he returns. "You are my student."

"It's not like it's illegal, just... Frowned upon," you protest. "And you're not much older than me. I don't get why it's so bad."

"[Y/N]," he sighs, squeezing your thigh gently. "It's just... if I have relations with a student, it'll get out that you could've influenced me to change your grades. You could've influenced me to move you into my class. None of it is true, but they could say things that would either get you kicked out or me fired."

"They don't have to know," you whisper. "I'm sure lots of other people do it."

"[Y/N]," he sighs, pulling into a driveway and parking. "I... I want to, I really do. But this is wrong."

You unbuckle your seatbelt and lean toward him, pressing your lips to his.

He doesn't respond at first, and you’re about to pull away when his hands move up to cup your face and hold you to him.

When he finally pulls away, you exhale softly, leaning your forehead to his.

"Does that feel wrong to you?" you whisper, looking to his soft hazel eyes.

He shakes his head slightly, and you move to straddle his waist, your eyes watching his.

"It feels perfect to me," you swallow, your heart racing in your chest.

There’s no turning back now. He knows how you feel, you have to see this through to the end. If you didn’t tell him now, would you have ever?

"Come on, let’s get inside and get you some food," he exhales.

"I'm okay, really," you say softly. "This conversation has been a little... Sobering."

"Just come inside and eat some damn food," he growls, opening his car door and stepping out while holding you easily in his big arms.

"Even if I'm not hungry?" you pout as he sets you down before linking his fingers through yours and walking to the front door.

"Yes, because I said so," he returns when you open your mouth to protest. "Here, the kitchen is this way. You can sit at the bar."

"So... Sam," you test, and he looks over his shoulder at you. He smiles slightly, and you bite your lip as butterflies burst in your stomach. "Um... Do you mind talking to me about some things?"

"No, it's not a full-time thing," he exhales as he sets a bowl of cereal in front of you. "It's a... When I feel in the mood thing."

"Oh," you respond. "So, like at the bar...?"

"You were hot and dancing in a dress that doesn't cover much. How can you not expect me to be in the mood?" he returns. "And the teasing, goddamn it."

"Did you like it?" you ask, taking a shy bite of food.

"If you were mine, you wouldn't have gotten away with saying or doing even a quarter of those things," his voice lowers. "Your ass would be fucking crimson."

"So you're really into the spanking thing?" you ask, eyebrows raised.

"Only if my little girl deserves it," he says slowly. "And trust me, you deserved it earlier."

"So um..." you trail off, suddenly shy. "I have a question about this... If it's not weird."

"Ask away, I'm sure you have more than one," he sits down on the barstool beside you.

"So... If we were to become a thing," you pause, watching his expression carefully. "Would this..." you gesture to him, "the... The Sir thing, for lack of a better word... Would this be every time we were intimate? Or just sometimes?"

"Most of the time," he says without hesitation, and you purse your lips slightly.

"So no... No like, making love or anything? It's always Sir stuff?" you ask, frowning. You didn’t mind a rough tumble in the sheets every once in a while, but you did like the soft touches and gentle kisses that came with making love.

"[Y/N], I'm a Dom," he explains gently. "That means I like having control of the situation. That doesn't mean that I can't make love. It just means that we do it on my terms."

"But what if I want to be on top or something?" you murmur your worries. "That won't happen?"

"Again, it means that we do it on my terms," he pats your knee gently. "It means that if you want to ride me, then feel free to ride me, but if I say 'Slower' then you go slower. If I tell you to play with yourself, then you play with yourself. You can do it, but if I tell you something about doing it, I expect it to be done."

"So I don't have any freedom to do what I want?" you whisper. "I mean, I know what I like, and what if that's not what you want?"

"It's about trusting me," he tells you. "It's about trusting that I can learn your body, and what you like. It's about trusting me to make you feel good, without having that responsibility yourself."

You’re quiet for a few moments, and he leans in to press a kiss to your forehead.

"We can talk about it more, I promise," he says. "We can make amendments to what I'm used to in the beginning, if that's what you want. I want this to work, but I don’t want you to do this if it makes you uncomfortable."

"Is this where you take me to your bedroom and tie me up to show me what I've been missing all my life?" you ask quietly, and a small smile cracks his lips.

"This isn't Fifty Shades, [Y/N]," he strokes your cheek. "This is, I take you to my room and we let the night figure out what is going to happen. Maybe, if you want to try some things, we can do that, but if you don't want to then we don't have to."

You nod at him, smiling to yourself as he gazed at you gently.

"I'd like that," you whisper. "But I have one request."

"Ask away," he returns, and you fidget with your fingers gently.

"Can you call me something other than little girl? It's nice, I like it, but I feel like I'm in trouble," you tell him with a small smile. "I mean... I feel like that's something I'd get called when I'm teasing and about to get in trouble, not an all-the-time thing."

He pauses for a moment, thinking.

"How do you feel about baby girl?" he asks, and your face brightens.

"I like that," you say, and he smiles at you.

"Good. Now come here, baby girl. I want to touch you," he says, hooking his fingers around your waist.

"I don't know why that's so hot, but it is," you breathe, cupping his face in your hands. "Is it bad that hearing that turns me on so much?"

"Is it bad that calling you baby girl turns me on so much?" he returns, raising an eyebrow. "Now, I believe I said to come here."

He pulls you so that you’re pressed against him, your breath leaving you in a gasp.

"I'll say this once, and once only. I hate repeating myself, baby girl," he whispers in your ear. "So don't make me. Am I clear?"

"Mhm," you breathe, and his hand curls in your hair tightly. Oh, good God, he feels so good.

"When I speak to you, you'll answer me with either a 'Yes, Sir' or a 'No, Sir' or the answer to my question. Is that clear?"

"Yes Sir," you whisper, and he smiles as he gazes down at you.

"You're such a fast learner," he praises, and you can't help the bubbly giggle that leaves your lips. "Oh, you like that?"

"Yes Sir," you answer him, batting your eyes. "It feels good to be praised."

"And you'll receive praises whenever you deserve them, baby girl," he states, tapping your nose. "So just be good for me, okay?"

"I will," you answer him. “Sam?”

“Yes, baby girl?” he murmurs, his gaze softening as he looked at you.

“Will you take me to your room now?”

“Do you want me to, Baby Girl?” he returns, cocking his head to the side some.

He’s giving you an out, in case you’re having any second thoughts about this.

You find none.

“Yes, Sir,” you nod, and he sweeps you into his arms, letting your legs wrap around his waist.

“Then let’s have some fun.”

~

Tell me what you thought!

~

Forevers: @dslocum89 @thesupernaturalmoose1967 @queencflair @sisterwinchesterwriter @timidnefelibata @ria132love