Obviously I do not own Supernatural, but I do love to write about these men!

Enjoy!

So there I sat, watching the flame of a candle dance in the darkness, wondering if Sam knew what he was doing when he watched me the way he did. He was working around the kitchen, trying to make me a real dinner. Honestly, I was curious as to why he was bothering; but he'd calmly explained to me that since Dean was home and everything was (tentatively) fine we needed time to relax.

I'd asked him why we needed to do it together of course, and he just smiled at me in that way that he does, as if to say 'you're so cute.' Which rankled my nerves something fierce if I'm being honest.

I was not cute, not in the least bit.

Cute.

Please; I was full of piss and vinegar, not sugar and spice and he damn well knew it.

I glanced at up at him, stirring something in a pot with soft music playing in the background. He didn't appear to be listening to it, but it was relaxing just the same. Whatever he was making smelled divine, and as curious as I was about his intentions behind this little dinner I was actually relieved that we were able to have this night. After what had happened with Dean (almost) when he'd first been brought back to the bunker, I never thought tonight would happen.

"Take my hand, and don't you dare let go!," Sam ordered.

I took a deep breath, shivers racking my body, and shook my head.

Pain, pain, pain.

Agony.

Breathe, just breathe.

"I told you, Sammy. I told you he was gonna try and kill me!," I whispered. His head dipped for a moment as he tried to gather his thoughts before he gripped my hand tightly in his and squeezed.

"Cas will be here soon. Don't you dare close those beautiful eyes!," Sam demanded.

I blinked, dismissing that comment about my eyes, as blood continued to pour through the fingers of my other hand. I glanced down at the stab wounds lining my abdomen and felt the tears fill my eyes. I did not want to cry.

"That's gotta be a record; two times in a week?," Sam tried to joke. I quirked a smile, but it was getting harder to breathe.

"Sam, I gotta say this-,"

"Don't fucking finish that-"

"I love you. I do. I may not be sweet- and...and- open-"

"Shut your mouth and keep breathing! You are not leaving me."

His hazel eyes were practically melted, washing over me like a summer rain.

"Okay. Okay."

Now, I had no idea what to say. I hadn't mean that I was in love with him, but for me that admission was just as serious. Ever since that moment, two short weeks ago, I've dealt with an overprotective Dean who apologized profusely and a very confusing Sammy who did nothing but watch me with those mysterious glances and sweet smiles.

It was damned unnerving, and he knew it.

"Dinner's done. I'll bring it to you," He murmured.

I watched his back flex beneath that tight t-shirt and felt myself blush. Really? Now of all times, when I was barely recovered from practically dying in his arms, my body wanted to react like that?

Listen here heart, he's not for you. Winchester men die easier than they live, and that's the fucking truth.

But he's so fucking sweet...

"You okay? Ya look a little under the weather," Sam said as he slid a plate of steaming spaghetti towards me.

"Gee, you really know how to compliment a girl," I snorted.

His smile was easy as he appraised me, scooting his chair forward and setting his elbows on the top of the table. He leaned forward, still smiling, and I sighed.

"And if I told you that I've been thinking about how beautiful you are the entire evening, would you take that compliment?"

I was back to blushing and he was back to shaking his head, leaving me with no other option than to take a drink of my water and try desperately to hide my pinkening cheeks. Twirling my fork in the spaghetti before me, I tried not to question why he was doing this, but I began to overthink every little gesture, and that comment?
"And if I told you that I've been thinking about how beautiful you are the entire evening, you would take that compliment?"

What the hell was that?!

"Okay, spill. Why did you do this? Why are we sitting here eating dinner like we're on a date? And why are you telling me I'm beautiful when we both know I'm not your type at all," I asked. I took a deep breath and sat back in my chair, crossing my arms.

With a sigh, Sam sat back as well and pushed his plate to the side.

"First off-don't cross your arms at me like that. It's one of your most annoying defense mechanisms and I would never hurt you. You know that, I know that, so the arm-crossing-leave-me-alone bit is overkill," Sam said.

I frowned, but I slowly uncrossed my arms.

"Second off, I would like to take you out on a date but we both know that's not your thing. Believe me, I've racked my brain over how to do this, but starting things off casual is the best and only answer I could come up with."

I winced at how close to home that hit, and was momentarily awed at how much he must pay attention.

"And last but not least, you're beautiful. You have to know that, and if you don't I wouldn't mind spending quite a bit of time showing you just how beautiful I think you are; but you have to let me. As far as you being my type? Well, sweetheart, you've never asked," Sam finished, raising one eyebrow and shifting in his seat so he could glare at me better.

I was, obviously, speechless.

Sam seemed to know an awful lot about me, and that made me slightly uncomfortable with a side of, well, flattered.

Shit.

"So this is a date to you?"

He laughed, tipped his head back and laughed, before he settled his elbows on the table top again.

"You're missing the point."

"I got your point, Winchester. You wanna fuck me, and while that's surprising and flattering I'll admit, I'm curious as to why you're just telling me this now," I admitted.

Those hazel eyes flashed for a second before he leaned in closer.

"I can fuck any girl I want. When have you ever seen me take the time to woo a woman, just to fuck her? You've never seen me 'Dean' a woman and we both know I would never treat anyone that way, let alone you. You practically died in my arms last week and I almost, almost lost the chance to do to this," He said fiercely as he glared at me.

"You talk about me like I'm some holy grail of a woman, Sam. I'm not; we just talked about this, remember? I'm cold, unfeeling, robotic, the fucking ice queen-"

"Maybe I want to warm you up."

His expression softened slowly.

I opened my mouth with a witty retort on my tongue, but decided to say nothing instead. That was probably one of the sexitest things anyone had ever said to me, and I wanted to hear more.

Let that freak flag fly, babygirl.

"Talk dirty to me, Sam."

His brow furrowed.

"What?"

"I don't want you to 'woo' me. I already like you," I said as I leaned forward so we were closer to one another, "I want you to talk dirty to me."
His gaze fell for a second before he bent forward and lifted one of my bare feet into his lap, and pressed it against his erection. The feeling of his hard cock through the worn denim of his jeans was startling and hot.

"How dirty are we talkin' here?," He huffed.

I didn't take my eyes from his as I answered, "filthy."

His smirk was one of pure sex appeal as he rubbed the arch of my foot in his lap and licked his lips.

"The first time you stayed with us in that dingy motel outside of Wisconsin, I caught a peek of you in coming out of the shower. I spent two hours in the car that night jackin' off to the memory of that small peek of your body," Sam said.

As he glanced at me from beneath his lowered lashes I gently pressed my foot against his erection. He hissed from between his teeth and his gaze shot to mine. His pupils were blown out, making his eyes almost completely black.

Damn, that's sexy.

"Dirtier."

He scooted forward in his chair, giving me better access to his dick.

"That night in Chattanooga, when you got attacked by that werewolf and I had to patch you up, I didn't need you to take your top all the way off. I just told you I did so I could catch a glimpse of your perfect tits," Sam admitted.

My. Panties. Are. So. Wet.

I smiled, bit the edge of my lip and nodded.

"Dirtier."

"I stole a pair of your panties from the laundry a month ago so I could smell your sweet pussy as I touched myself."

Bingo.

Wham, bam, thank you ma'am.

"And tonight? What did you have planned after our little dinner was over, Sam?"

He smiled and pressed his cock against the inside of my foot.

"I was hoping dessert would follow."

I nodded, looking at all the mess littering the table.

"Did you send Dean out of here on purpose?"

Sam laughed.

"That was the easiest part. I gave him a false lead to follow for the night, and he gladly took the offer," Sam said through a shit-eating grin.

"Sammy, you've been a very bad boy. What if this hadn't gone the way you'd planned?," I wondered aloud.

He shrugged.

"I still don't believe you'll ever want me the way I want you, but I'll willing to take whatever I can get," He told me honestly.

I frowned.

Why wouldn't I?

Had he ever actually talked to me about any of this my answer would have been far different than he thought.

He was gorgeous, after all; and smart, sweet, thoughtful, honest, loyal, trustworthy-

I stood, using my arm to swipe all of the food to the floor in one sweeping motion. Sam's eyes widened as I climbed onto the table and settled myself between his open thighs.

"Now's your chance, Sammy. Tell me what you're thinkin' right now," I dipped my head and pressed my lips against the shell of his ear, "And make it filthy."

His large hands wrapped around my waist and anchored me to my spot on the edge of the table.

"I can smell how wet your pussy is for me, and I want nothing more than to taste every inch of you, hear you scream my name as I fuck you," Sam said before he buried one hand in the hair at my nape and pressed his hot mouth against mine.

I moaned, amazed at how perfect his lips felt as they caressed me.

Slowly, as he worked my mouth over with a skill I did not expect, I felt my walls come down.

What had started as a joke (somewhat) had quickly turned into something else and it wasn't until he wrapped me up in his arms that I realized that I needed it.

"Please don't stop," I whispered fervently against his lips, soaking in all of the comfort and warmth he offered.

I'm cold.

I'm cold.

I'm frigid.

With shaking hands, I wrapped his face in my grip and kissed him back with everything I had. He groaned, sucking my bottom lip between his pearly whites as he stood. Wrapping my legs around his waist, I pressed myself against his hard cock that was now straining against the dark denim of his jeans. I was whispering his name, tugging on his hair, sucking on his tongue when I felt him lift me.

I loved the contact, loved how his hard body felt against my soft one.

He seemed to love it too, because his hands were roving over every clothed inch of me like he wished for nothing more than to taste my cold flesh.

"I have to have you now," He said into my mouth.

I didn't get a word out before he was pulling my shirt off, freeing my breasts. He sighed wistfully and sucked one budded nipple into his mouth like it could breathe life into him...and perhaps it could. He paid due attention to my 'perfect tits' licking and loving them as he laved them with his tongue.

I took the time to pull his shirt up over his washboard abs, silently appreciating how perfectly sculpted he was (as if he was a Greek statue, honestly) as his shirt came off completely. With my legs wrapped tightly around his waist, there was no way I could reach into his pants like I wanted to, so I wiggled to get his attention.

"I want you to lay me down on that table, and fuck me."

His smirk was all the answer I got as he slammed my ass onto the table, unbuttoned my jeans so quickly his hands blurred, and removed his with just as much speed. I was almost panting, rubbing my thighs together to get some friction. When my hand traveled south, along the seam of my panties, Sam snatched my hand away and shook his head.

"Now who's being bad?," He asked as he literally tore my panties in two. I gasped, shocked and yet incredibly aroused as he buried two fingers past the knuckle inside of me.

"That's right baby. You're so fuckin' wet, damn...," He whispered as he bent me backwards and kissed me heatedly.

I wanted to reply.

I did.

But I could feel his bare cock against the inside of my thigh and the temptation to wrap my fingers around it was far greater than anything I'd ever felt, so I wrapped my hand around him.

He bucked into my hand, hard, and grabbed it before I could stop him.

"Tell me this is what you want."

I nodded, tugged him closer, but he paused.

"Use your words damn it."

"I want you, please, Sammy. I need you," I admitted.

His groan was all the answer I got as he slid home, filling me and stretching me to the point of a pleasure-pain I'd never felt before.

"Fuck, you feel so good," I heard myself say. He only grunted as he began to slam into me like his life depended on it.

Faster and faster, until I felt my body stiffen and my pussy clench in a familiar way that had me writhing and gasping in his arms. I would have begged for anything, given him anything in that moment because he felt so good and all I wanted was to devour him.

"I'm gonna come," I choked out, wrapping my hands around the back of his neck and dragging his mouth down to mine.

Sam lifted one thigh and wrapped my leg around his waist, hitting my g-spot at an angle that had me moaning his name like it was the only word I knew.

"Sam, Sam," I whispered.

He murmured something sweet, about me being beautiful, and it happened.

Arching my back I wrapped my other leg around his waist as my orgasm overwhelmed me in a way that I would never regret. Wave after wave of pleasure washed over and through my body as Sam said something before his thrusts became jerky and slow.

He wrapped me up in his arms and leaned forward to rest his forehead against mine, kissing me softly as he did so.

That...

Sam...

Wow.

That was...

"Fuck," I heard.

I opened my eyes to see Sam gazing at me in a way he never had before.

"Are you alright?," He asked me, concern lining his wide irises.

"I'm perfect. You're perfect."

He smiled, really smiled, and I admired the sight.

"So how was that for a first date?," He asked with a chuckle.

I rolled my eyes and kissed his stubbled chin.

"It was okay...," I trailed off, waiting for his retort.

"Just okay?," He asked, moving away from me slightly to run a calloused thumb over one of my still sensitive nipples.

I gasped, smiling when he sucked my bottom lip into his mouth.

"I was hoping it wasn't over yet," I said, pinching one of his nipples. He groaned, like I knew he would, and smiled.

"Well, I was right."

"About what?," I wondered.

He kissed me softly, tenderly, and tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear.

"You're definitely not a dude."