BATHE ME CLEAN! *ೃ༄
summary: sam shows you that pleasure is anything but sinful. word ct: 3k content: smut. porn with plot. softdom!sam. praise. body worship. emotional intimacy. p in v. inexperienced!reader. lowkey sam munchester LOL notes: this is the final chapter of my series, PREACHER'S DAUGHTER! I WANT TO CLARIFY THAT SEX IS NOT BAD!!!!! IT IS NOT DIRTY!!!! VIRGINITY IS NOT REAL!!!!!!! IT IS A SOCIAL CONSTRUCT!!!
─ ˙༺ ♱ ༻
< CHAPTER FIVE | ABOUT >
his breath is hot on your skin, and you feel an unfamiliar buzz as he plants kisses down your neck, beginning just beneath your ear. each one sending shivers through your body.
each kiss is placed with care. measured. your eyes flutter when he parts his lips, teeth grazing over your skin. he nips at the most sensitive spots, but he’s gentle. he takes his time with you.
nobody has ever touched you this way. you were raised to believe that intimacy should be saved. left for your husband, whose name you will take when you ultimately devote your life to him.
but this, this felt good. sam’s touch felt good. his hands, calloused and scratchy, rest comfortably, one in your own hand, while the other travels south. his leg rests between yours and its close proximity feels magnetic. you lift one leg to bend at your knee. you have to restrain yourself, keep your hips firmly on the grass beneath you.
sam lifts his chin and he travels back towards your right ear. your skin stings where his lips once sucked, leaving light maroon blemishes.
how sinful it is. to let a stranger taint your body. to let him paint it with bruises.
his warm breath tickles your ear and his lips hover.
“tonight’s about you.“
he thumbs over your left hand, and he shifts to look you in the eyes. you’re looking up through your lashes. eyes shining beneath the moonlight. lust. and he swears he could’ve let out a groan. but he didn’t want to make you weary.
he’s quiet for a moment, and you watch as his pupils search your face until his dips his chin back down, connecting his lips to yours. they taste sweet, not venomous. they’re slow in pace and soft as he sucks your bottom lip.
your lips, the same ones that speak to god, move harmoniously with a boy’s who has never been pure in His eyes. sinful.
“not god.” another kiss.
he brings his right hand to your chest. his fingertips are warm and daring.
“let me make you feel good.”
a soft, metallic pop follows his words, and you feel a tug on your hair just at the base of your neck. in the grass beside your head, sam places your silver cross necklace. the symbol of your faith—no longer attached to your body. the final act of defiance that preludes your inevitable rejection.
his words echo in your ears like a sermon.
your breath hitches and your cheeks grow pink. something flutters deep inside you, but it doesn’t feel like the rot you know too well.
there’s a moment of silence, where not even the leaves whispered. his forehead rested against yours. and a searching hand wandered down to your waist. his fingers curled beneath the hem of your sweater. he paused for a moment, until he felt you nod against him. you suddenly felt all too warm, and your breathing was growing heavier.
there were many nights where you felt that you couldn’t breathe, but never in this context, never while committing an act as dirty as this. rather, there were times where you sat in your room, anxiety-ridden, and choking on the mere thought of disappointing your father.
how would he feel if he knew you were lying breathless beneath the boy whose act of rebellion lured you in.
how would he feel if he knew that something was shifting inside of you. away from his cage. away from his eyes.
how would he feel if he knew that the guilt he implanted in you was condensing and being replaced by something much greater.
what he knew as sin, you were getting to know as desire. a part of human nature, not inherently evil.
sam’s hand slipped under your clothes. his silver thumb ring, cool to the touch, brushed along the skin of your waist. he moved with intent. to learn all of you. the curve of your hips, the concave of your dimples, the striations of your stretch marks.
you wanted him to be a part of you.
“sam.”
his touch paused immediately. he almost retracted his hand, but you shook your head. he looked pretty on top of you. a white light illuminated him and outlined his large frame. like an angel casting a glow from above.
he looked heavenly.
his eyes search yours. "d'you want this?" he asks.
"more?" you breathe out. it sounds like a question, like you're asking if he's okay with it. sam nods, the corner of his lips curling into a smile. you know you don't need to ask. you know where you two lie at the moment. that you both want this. it's in the way your hearts are beating together.
it's slow, the way it happens.
the way his fingertips tug the end of your sweater, slipping it over your head. the way his eyes linger over your body, letting his eyes fall from your lacey white bra, down your belly, and to the waistband of your skirt.
it's quiet, the way the guilt loses its grip, and the pressure deep down begins to subside. the touch of his lips as they kiss along your belly. he doesn't demand. no. he desires.
you were raised on sermons that taught you to feel shameful for even the private act of imagining the delicate touch of man on your body. sam, however, made it his mission to prove what god had failed to—that maybe your body is a temple, but one that should be worshipped.
your torso twitched beneath his touch. he was patient, taking his time with you.
"you are so beautiful." he spoke slowly between kisses, lips dragging along skin until he reached your skirt. your hips threatened to leave the ground. his breath tickled, sending chills down your spine.
you had a hand still tangled in his hair, curling around the thick strand. this action gave you stability, a more intimate connection.
he looked up shortly, as though checking in on you as he backed down your legs until his eyes were level with your hips. sam's pupils were blown. lustful.
how could a sin be so deadly if it felt so good to feel?
his hand disappeared beneath your skirt, and you followed the feeling of his fingertips traveling up your thighs. soft, lingering, until his thumb swiped gently over the cloth of your panties. you soft gasp slipped through your parted lips, and your hips jerked. sam's eyes were fixed on your face, watching your expressions change. he needed proof of your pleasure, just as a nonbeliever needed proof of god.
the difference here was that he could see you. and feel you. all of you. he could hear the pretty sounds you make. he could see the way you tucked your bottom lip behind your teeth. you were definitively real.
in pleasuring you, sam felt his sins wash away. not because he believed it was holy. no. because every twinge of impurity that once echoed behind him was silenced. he felt no fire. no uncleanliness. just your body trembling beneath him.
"please, sam"
he felt that the release of his name from your mouth could save him.
he scrunches your skirt up over your hips, letting the fabric drape over you. and places a soft kiss over the center of your panties from which heat radiated from.
he curled his fingers around the cotton fabric, pulling them to the side. his eyes were wild, but not hungry. you weren't his prey. he dives in, licking a slow stripe through your southern wet.
the soft hum that vibrated in the back of your throat made sam's heart flutter, and heat travelled down his own body. your twisted your fingers in his hair without substantial pressure. you're gentle with him, just as he with you.
his eyes flutter, the drag of your fingers on his scalp makes him feel fuzzy. he briefly pulls back from your body, and slips your underwear down your legs, tossing them carelessly aside. he starts with quick kisses on your hypersensitive clit.
your hips twitch and your legs threaten to close. sam's large hands grasp your thighs. not too hard. just enough to keep them down. he parts his lips, traveling downwards. warm tongue slipping through your folds. arousal pools on his tongue.
your legs are beginning to shake. a free hand reaches back to find something—anything to hold onto. you dig your nails into the dirt as you release soft moans.
"sam, holy-" you gasp when he hums against you. you tug lightly at his hair, accidentally. but you feel a shift in his movements. his flow is growing messier. his tongue fervent. he circles a long finger around your clit, and his tongue slides in the velvety walls of your heat.
"doin' so good for me, hun" he mutters against you, breathy and warm. your moans are growing more frequent, volume increasing just slightly. despite being the only people within a half mile, you try to silence yourself as you do when you've wrapped up in your covers in the middle of the night.
sam knows that you have it in you to be louder.
"wanna hear you." he mumbles, his breath is quick. he jerks his hips when the grass beneath him rubs his sensitive bulge in just the right way.
the lewdness of his words excites you. you release your bottom lip from the grip of your teeth. he dips a finger in, thrusting slowly. in and out. you grit your teeth momentarily, but pleasure is quick to take over.
"mmm, sam," your lips part, quick gasps escaping. he picks up the pace just a bit, sliding a second finger in once he knows you're ready. he barely comes up for air, as though he has no care for himself. only you. you taste sweet on his tongue, and he laps it up. the sound of saliva and skin is pornographic.
sam feels the tremble of your legs get stronger, and he knows you're close. "so so pretty for me." he whispers, fingers moving faster inside of you. you let out a breathy moan when he sucks your clit, it pulses on his tongue. "almost there," he encourages.
your hips lift from the ground, but he pushes them wide again. soft whines escape your lips. you feel hot and feverish. gentle hands hold his head flush against you, afraid he might stop. but he doesn't.
you feel weightless, the sound of your own moans are muffled, and your eyes shut tight as his tongue dances through your folds. sam feels delirious himself, drunk on the way you taste. his own free hand comes down to palm himself through his pants.
in the symphony of wet sounds, your whiny moans, and sam's hums, you can't help but grind your hips into his tongue. you feel yourself losing control. your thighs shake and your head is hazy. "sam," your voice is barely there, lost to the pleasure.
his hair is tangled between your fingers as you reach the edge. you cum, your slick emptying onto his tongue. he doesn't stop, coaxing you through your orgasm. it's intense. like waves crashing on a shore. you gasp, his fingers still not slowing. they move with passion. your hips twitch wildly against his tongue, becoming oversensitive.
"s' too much." you barely get it out.
sam pulls away, lips glossed over with your slick. you just about moan at the sight of him as he licks his lips. you both take a moment to catch your breath, eyes never leaving the others. he keeps a hand settled on your thigh, nails scratching softly over your skin as you calm.
"y' did so good," he said, sitting back on his knees. his hair was a mess on his head, and his cheeks were flushed pink from exertion.
"i feel so good." you sit up, bravery running through your veins.
if sex with sam feels so good, how could it possibly be bad?
your hands find his belt buckle.
"uh, uh, uh." he hums, taking your hands in his.
"tonight's for you, remember?" he brushes your hair over your shoulder and reaches his arms behind your back, skillfully unclasping your bra.
you let his hands run down your body.
sam removes his jacket, dropping it to the ground behind you. then throws his shirt off to the side, his belt and jeans not too far behind.
his hands find your waist again, and he lowers you back down to the ground. this time, his jackets acts as a barrier between the prickly grass and your unclothed skin.
"probably should've done that earlier," he whispers against your lips.
you can't help but chuckle, wrapping your arms around his neck.
"i promise you i was too preoccupied to notice."
he smiles, grinding his hips into yours. his bulge is heavy and aching against you. he grunts when you slip your hand between your bodies, taking him into your palm.
"i like when you make noise," you hesitate to say, and it comes out as a whisper.
"yeah?" he asks, your core flutters.
"yeah."
sam's throbbing against you. you tug at the waistband of his boxers. seeing your eagerness excites him. in an unbroken kiss, he removes them, and his length stands stiff. precum dribbles from the tip.
your hands trace up his body, finding his back. tenderly, your nails scratch in long strides and you feel him shiver under your touch.
if the human body is a gift that is to be respected, what is more highly honorable than providing it pleasure?
sam brings his hand down to pump his member a few times, spreading his slick as he aligns himself with your hips. he's bigger than you imagined.
he dips his head down, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead.
"tell me if it's too much." you nod.
he rests his head in the crook of your neck, tongue licking stripes behind your ear as he presses himself into you. you gasp, arching your back. sam pauses momentarily to let you adjust, but the digging of your nails into his back tells him to keep going.
he moves in and out slowly at first, and he breathes hard in your ear.
"fuck. kiss me," you roll your head to face him. his quick and compliant, kissing you with feverish desire.
his hair is already sticking to his forehead and he's humming against your lips. his hips roll into yours, trying to get as deep as possible. to fill you up.
"need more." still sensitive from your first orgasm, you know you're not going to last too much longer.
sam thrusts his hips rhythmically, and your walls squeeze around his length. he feels warm inside of you.
his cock is pulsing, the roll of his hips is methodical. he reaches the deepest parts of you. he grunts against your lips, occasionally whispering your name like a prayer. his voice is gruff, urgent.
sam moves a bit faster, a bit messier. the sound of skin slapping skin takes over the chirps of the crickets. "yes," you breathe, "god, yes!". you're approaching euphoria, and your hand finds its way to his hair once again.
your grip is stronger than it once was, and sam grunts.
"oh, shit." he drags out a long breath.
his thrusts are getting sloppy, and his moans come more frequent. strands of cum stick to the inside of your thighs.
"sam. sam, holy fuck-," you're breathless, and a pressure builds inside you. he smiles against your lips.
"almost baby, need you to cum for me again. can you do that?"
you nod quickly, eyes fluttering. your vision is clouding over. you whine, sam's name leaving your lips in an uncontrollable song. you let the pleasure wash over you. until you're spilling cum over his cock.
your legs tremble and tears prick your eyes.
"so good, so fuckin' good for me, baby."
once you're overstimulated once more, he pulls out, his hand rubbing up and down his length, thumb circling his tip— just how he likes it. he hovers his cock over your belly.
"sam."
"almost there." he hums, his breaths short and quick.
"no, no, sam." you lift his chin to meet your eyes. his eyes are glassy with need. his eyebrows furrow, and his pace slows to a stop.
"let me." you say, placing a firm hand on his chest to push him to the side and onto his back. he's confused, but he's in daze, so he follows suite.
his eyes nearly roll to the back of his head when you position yourself on your knees. not in prayer. not this time.
your mouth hovers over his length, and you circle your tongue around his tip. your other hand pumps him up and down, circling every so often.
you know he's close.
"shit, shit, shit." he moans. you like seeing him unravel. like seeing a new part of him.
your hand his messy with your own cum, and you pick up the pace. when his hips twitch and his abs tense, you stick out your tongue, your hand maintaining its pace.
he groans a string of your name, each iteration more of a mumble than the one before. in a quick rush, sam is spilling onto your tongue. it's warm and salty when it hits your tastebuds. his eyes stay fixed on you. he thinks you look so pretty like this, his cum running down your lips like wine from a chalice.
when it's over, sam uses his shirt to wipe you down, placing gentle kisses down your body. then you both lie down. the breeze that passes over you feels cool against your bare skin. you press your face to his chest, letting the heat radiating from his body ground you.
you smile tiredly. thunder doesn't crack. hell doesn't swallow you whole. beneath the cover of the willow, your breaths sync.
maybe this is the feeling you've been chasing.
maybe this is salvation.
─ ˙༺ ♱ ༻
author’s note: teehee, that’s the end of preacher’s daughter!!! i haven’t written smut in literal years so i hope this was decent lol.
i forgot how much i missed writing, and i’m so happy lots of you are enjoying my works! more to come soon :P
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