SPN Ficlet: "Four H Club" - Sam/OFC - NC17
Wow, so I LOVED last night's episode of SPN--it was so funny! So I decided to write about Sam Winchester as a [fussy baby] and then having dirty, angsty sex with an unnamed "horse girl." :P This would probably have fewer commas in it if I had waited to have mona1347 look it over. But I need to get it out of me so I can read a bunch of film theory in order to earn the right to watch Friday Night Lights later. And because one of my hippie friends from VT who's driving across country just called and said she's on her way to Chicago.
Title: Four H Club
Author: femmenerd.
Pairing: Sam/OFC.
Rating: NC17.
Disclaimer: Not mine, not for profit, don’t sue.
Summary: Spoilers through the end of S2. She bites his lip and Sam feels like they’re the same. Um, character study through porn, I guess? Warning for parentheticals and angst.
Word Count: About 500.
*****
Dean has this rule-this Dean Winchester by-law-where he doesn’t sleep with women if they’ve become “a job” in his head. Sam isn’t as good at compartmentalizing sometimes. Or been having casual sex (while hunting full-time) long enough to have created structuring guidelines about this stuff.
But from the way she begs, he doesn’t feel like he’s taking advantage. (The way she orders more like.)
She has strong, thick thighs from riding those horses in the stable out back and he can feel the hair on them bristle against his as he fits himself in from behind. She does that thing that some women do where she shaves up to the knee and no farther. Practical, for appearances. Not that Sam can imagine her wearing anything besides dusty Wranglers. Even though he’s only known her for two days. Two days in which her father died. (Because Sam can’t save everyone.)
What Sam can do is fuck.
He can dig his fingertips into the soft give of flesh where her Hanes cotton briefs usually live. He can angle up hard and hit that place Jess taught him about, the spot that makes women gasp and call out while Sam pretends he isn’t aware that it takes a more-than-decent-sized dick to get there direct. Over and over. He tries, out of practiced politeness, to do a little of the reach around to play with her clit, but she pushes him away.
“Harder,” she grits out, making that sex talk cliche sound urgent for real. So he does what she asks posthaste, letting out a shaky breath and hammering in.
She’s not the type of woman he’d date. Nothing like Jess. (Nothing like Madison.)
She’s also not the type of woman the rest of the world would ever imagine might need rescuing. Capable. Tough in a no-make-up, no-unnecessary-dialogue kind of way. She was probably going to 4H club meetings and helping her daddy shovel manure at 5 AM back when Sam was studying for the SATs under the covers with a flashlight. (Look where that got them.)
He goes down on her after, tasting condom-latex in his mouth at first until it’s just all pussy, musky and distracting. “I’m gonna make you come,” he says, frowning.
“Yeah, okay,” she mutters, and it pisses Sam off almost as much as when Dean refuses to take his own impending death seriously.
Sam doesn’t fuck around with bells and whistles after that, just tongue-tip to clit-fast, hard flutter until he’s getting a cramp. But he doesn’t stop for rest, not satisfied until she floods wet all over his lips and chin. After that, Sam’s hard again.
He kisses her mouth then, licking her own cum between her chapped lips.
“Can you fuck me like you love me?” she asks.
“Yeah,” Sam answers quietly. “I can do that.”
He pulls her hair and kisses her neck. He looks into her watery eyes and fumbles with her tits. He pushes in like his cock is something they can both share.
She bites his lip and Sam feels like they’re the same.
*****
Title: Four H Club
Author: femmenerd.
Pairing: Sam/OFC.
Rating: NC17.
Disclaimer: Not mine, not for profit, don’t sue.
Summary: Spoilers through the end of S2. She bites his lip and Sam feels like they’re the same. Um, character study through porn, I guess? Warning for parentheticals and angst.
Word Count: About 500.
*****
Dean has this rule-this Dean Winchester by-law-where he doesn’t sleep with women if they’ve become “a job” in his head. Sam isn’t as good at compartmentalizing sometimes. Or been having casual sex (while hunting full-time) long enough to have created structuring guidelines about this stuff.
But from the way she begs, he doesn’t feel like he’s taking advantage. (The way she orders more like.)
She has strong, thick thighs from riding those horses in the stable out back and he can feel the hair on them bristle against his as he fits himself in from behind. She does that thing that some women do where she shaves up to the knee and no farther. Practical, for appearances. Not that Sam can imagine her wearing anything besides dusty Wranglers. Even though he’s only known her for two days. Two days in which her father died. (Because Sam can’t save everyone.)
What Sam can do is fuck.
He can dig his fingertips into the soft give of flesh where her Hanes cotton briefs usually live. He can angle up hard and hit that place Jess taught him about, the spot that makes women gasp and call out while Sam pretends he isn’t aware that it takes a more-than-decent-sized dick to get there direct. Over and over. He tries, out of practiced politeness, to do a little of the reach around to play with her clit, but she pushes him away.
“Harder,” she grits out, making that sex talk cliche sound urgent for real. So he does what she asks posthaste, letting out a shaky breath and hammering in.
She’s not the type of woman he’d date. Nothing like Jess. (Nothing like Madison.)
She’s also not the type of woman the rest of the world would ever imagine might need rescuing. Capable. Tough in a no-make-up, no-unnecessary-dialogue kind of way. She was probably going to 4H club meetings and helping her daddy shovel manure at 5 AM back when Sam was studying for the SATs under the covers with a flashlight. (Look where that got them.)
He goes down on her after, tasting condom-latex in his mouth at first until it’s just all pussy, musky and distracting. “I’m gonna make you come,” he says, frowning.
“Yeah, okay,” she mutters, and it pisses Sam off almost as much as when Dean refuses to take his own impending death seriously.
Sam doesn’t fuck around with bells and whistles after that, just tongue-tip to clit-fast, hard flutter until he’s getting a cramp. But he doesn’t stop for rest, not satisfied until she floods wet all over his lips and chin. After that, Sam’s hard again.
He kisses her mouth then, licking her own cum between her chapped lips.
“Can you fuck me like you love me?” she asks.
“Yeah,” Sam answers quietly. “I can do that.”
He pulls her hair and kisses her neck. He looks into her watery eyes and fumbles with her tits. He pushes in like his cock is something they can both share.
She bites his lip and Sam feels like they’re the same.
*****