Fanfic - SPN: Misti-with-an-i (NC-17, Het: Sam/OFC)
Title: Misti-with-an-i
Author: eboniorchid
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Sam Winchester/OFC
Prompt: "Her name was Misti-with-an-i" from ignipes's First Line Meme. "012-Sloppy Imperfect Sex" for sam_slut_a_thon, challenge table here.
Word Count: ~700 words.
Rating: NC-17 for sexuality and language.
Warnings/Spoilers: No spoilers. Angst. PWP. Hustler!kink. Car!kink. First time. Hurt/Comfort (sort of). Character study. Smut. Graphic m/f sex.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Really. Nothing.
Summary: She wasn't his style, but he was trying to forget.
Author's Notes: Random quickie inspired by ignipes First Line Meme.
fitness equipment
Her name was Misti-with-an-i, clearly more Dean's style than his, but Dean was ... well ... busy, probably with someone else with a nearly-rhyming, I-ending name - Kristi or Candi or Brandi or Tandi or something. Misti, though, seemed nice enough and he was trying not to think, trying to forget what it was that they'd been running so hard to find answers for all these months.
He smiled and nodded his head, unsure of her words, but glad his response seemed at least somewhat close to right. Her manicured nails on his thigh made him itch a little and he glanced around as if someone might see, but he knew no one cared, not really. When she leaned in to whisper something sweet and dirty in his ear, he tried to act pleasantly surprised, even though he wasn't sure that it was either pleasant or a surprise. He just took her hand, pouting his lips like Dean did as he signaled to the door with his head and led her out to the rental that was parked in the alley next door.
It was starting to get cool, autumn just around the corner, but they were far enough south to not feel the bulk of it. It meant his fingers were only slightly chilly when they ended up between her back and the metal side of the car as he ground against her and she ground against him. It wasn't perfect and her noises sounded a bit rehearsed, but it would do as a starter for the night.
He fumbled to get the car open and slid her down into the backseat, following her in and shutting the door for safety and privacy despite the cramped quarters. She oooed at the cleanliness of the leather and the newness of the car, clearly unaware that it wasn't really his. Slipping his hand down between her thighs and up her skirt, he had to fight not to laugh when he realized that she wasn't wearing any underwear. He just kissed the side of her face instead, his fingers reaching back to yank a condom unceremoniously from his back pocket.
He kissed along her jaw, her playboy performance in full swing as he jacked his cock over her until he was stiff enough to don the condom. Then his hand was pressing against her cunt, his fingers moving into her, barely needing to spread or prep because she was already open and sloppy wet. He tried not to think about being guy number two or more tonight, but it didn't seem all that far-fetched, so he distracted himself by lining up and sinking in, her hips canting up to meet his.
Breathing hot across her face and down her neck, he found a rhythm that had them both panting, even though they weren't moving all that fast. She mmmed under him, her manufactured nails scraping down his back on the off-beats as if that was the height of sexy. He wasn't sure he cared, though, and he shut out everything but the feel of the in and out, until his breath was running ahead of him and crashing through the pleasure riding up his spine. As he spilled, her legs trembled from the depth of his thrust and his lip bled from the force of his bite and, for a gathered patch of seconds somewhere in the middle, he really did forget.
Then they were both catching their breath like they didn't want it to leave again and they were slowly untangling from each other, a difficult feat in the cramped backseat. She ran her fingers through her hair and he did the same for his, zipping and straightening his fly as she straightened her skirt. It was only a moment more of awkward sighing and silence before she was saying 'thanks' and 'see ya' and climbing out of the car. He didn't even turn to watch her walk away.
He couldn't help but hope, though, that the extra bills in her bra would mean that she could sleep instead of trick for the rest of the night at least, even if these would all be her streets again tomorrow.
Author: eboniorchid
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Sam Winchester/OFC
Prompt: "Her name was Misti-with-an-i" from ignipes's First Line Meme. "012-Sloppy Imperfect Sex" for sam_slut_a_thon, challenge table here.
Word Count: ~700 words.
Rating: NC-17 for sexuality and language.
Warnings/Spoilers: No spoilers. Angst. PWP. Hustler!kink. Car!kink. First time. Hurt/Comfort (sort of). Character study. Smut. Graphic m/f sex.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Really. Nothing.
Summary: She wasn't his style, but he was trying to forget.
Author's Notes: Random quickie inspired by ignipes First Line Meme.
fitness equipment
Her name was Misti-with-an-i, clearly more Dean's style than his, but Dean was ... well ... busy, probably with someone else with a nearly-rhyming, I-ending name - Kristi or Candi or Brandi or Tandi or something. Misti, though, seemed nice enough and he was trying not to think, trying to forget what it was that they'd been running so hard to find answers for all these months.
He smiled and nodded his head, unsure of her words, but glad his response seemed at least somewhat close to right. Her manicured nails on his thigh made him itch a little and he glanced around as if someone might see, but he knew no one cared, not really. When she leaned in to whisper something sweet and dirty in his ear, he tried to act pleasantly surprised, even though he wasn't sure that it was either pleasant or a surprise. He just took her hand, pouting his lips like Dean did as he signaled to the door with his head and led her out to the rental that was parked in the alley next door.
It was starting to get cool, autumn just around the corner, but they were far enough south to not feel the bulk of it. It meant his fingers were only slightly chilly when they ended up between her back and the metal side of the car as he ground against her and she ground against him. It wasn't perfect and her noises sounded a bit rehearsed, but it would do as a starter for the night.
He fumbled to get the car open and slid her down into the backseat, following her in and shutting the door for safety and privacy despite the cramped quarters. She oooed at the cleanliness of the leather and the newness of the car, clearly unaware that it wasn't really his. Slipping his hand down between her thighs and up her skirt, he had to fight not to laugh when he realized that she wasn't wearing any underwear. He just kissed the side of her face instead, his fingers reaching back to yank a condom unceremoniously from his back pocket.
He kissed along her jaw, her playboy performance in full swing as he jacked his cock over her until he was stiff enough to don the condom. Then his hand was pressing against her cunt, his fingers moving into her, barely needing to spread or prep because she was already open and sloppy wet. He tried not to think about being guy number two or more tonight, but it didn't seem all that far-fetched, so he distracted himself by lining up and sinking in, her hips canting up to meet his.
Breathing hot across her face and down her neck, he found a rhythm that had them both panting, even though they weren't moving all that fast. She mmmed under him, her manufactured nails scraping down his back on the off-beats as if that was the height of sexy. He wasn't sure he cared, though, and he shut out everything but the feel of the in and out, until his breath was running ahead of him and crashing through the pleasure riding up his spine. As he spilled, her legs trembled from the depth of his thrust and his lip bled from the force of his bite and, for a gathered patch of seconds somewhere in the middle, he really did forget.
Then they were both catching their breath like they didn't want it to leave again and they were slowly untangling from each other, a difficult feat in the cramped backseat. She ran her fingers through her hair and he did the same for his, zipping and straightening his fly as she straightened her skirt. It was only a moment more of awkward sighing and silence before she was saying 'thanks' and 'see ya' and climbing out of the car. He didn't even turn to watch her walk away.
He couldn't help but hope, though, that the extra bills in her bra would mean that she could sleep instead of trick for the rest of the night at least, even if these would all be her streets again tomorrow.