In Which Jo Gets What She Wants and Sam Doesn't Protest... Much, for lynne_mitchell (Sam/Jo, adult)
Title: In Which Jo Gets What She Wants and Sam Doesn't Protest... Much
Author: ryuutchi
Recipient: Lynne_Mitchell
Rating: Adult
Pairing: Jo/Sam
Summary: He'd known what he was going to say before he'd shown up, but somehow the words had vanished from his mind as soon as he'd gotten through the door (though that might have been a fault of the blunt force trauma).
Author's Notes: This is set directly after Born Under a Bad Sign. If I said it was a serious exploration of the issues set out in that episode I'd be lying.
Warnings for het sex, dubious consent, bondage and Jo being just a little bit mean to our favorite puppy.
A quick thank you to koala_motchi, my beta. (It's quite a burden for you to be right all the time, isn't it?)
Jo glanced down at the thick, braided rope in her hands and gave it a tug, letting a bit of it slide through her fingers. The slight movement elicited a pained moan from Sam when the rope, already tied tight enough to cut into his wrists, tightened a bit more. Jo opened her mouth to apologize, but shook her head, the momentary guilt fading away. She watched Sam's muscles ripple under his t-shirt as he flexed, testing his bonds (and none too thoroughly, she noted). Sam probably couldn't get out of those ropes without some help, and she was willing to bet he wouldn't try, with that martyr complex of his.
She hid the wry smile that her lips had twisted in to and perched herself carefully on a barstool across from Sam. "So, you wanted to say you were sorry about what you did earlier?" she asked, sipping from a transparent pink sports bottle of holy water. Sam had said as much when he'd turned up on her doorstep, fifteen minutes before, while she was in the process of closing up the bar. Unwilling to take chances, Jo had brained him with the butt of her shotgun and dumped half the sports bottle over his chest. There'd been none of the usual reactions signaling demonic possession, but even so, Jo decided not to take chances.
She was trying not to admit to herself that it might not be a twisted form of revenge for what the demon-in-Sam's-body had done to her after all-- that some part of her hind-brain had been occupied for the past day and a half by how much she wouldn't have minded their positions being reversed. Her gaze slid down Sam's body, appreciative of how that wet shirt clung to his chest, outlining the flat planes of muscle. Jo licked her lips, watching the muscles tighten and strain again.
Sam's cheeks had gone all flushed at the little flick of her tongue and he dropped his head, staring at his lap instead of Jo. "Yeah, but... I don't remember much of what the demon did," he started, faltering. He'd known what he was going to say before he'd shown up, but somehow the words had vanished from his mind as soon as he'd gotten through the door (though that might have been a fault of the blunt force trauma). "Dean said I did some things I shouldn't have. And I remember flashes of it." He trailed off, watching the disconcertingly focused expression on Jo's face snap into something that might have been annoyance, or something stronger.
Their eyes met, his wide, blue and worried, and hers narrowed and dark. "You don't remember shoving me over onto the bar?" she demanded, watching his eyes go even wider as he floundered for the right question. Before he could speak, she swung herself off the stool and, in one swift movement, had her body pressed up against his side. Jo slid around the column to which Sam was tied, one hand wrapping around his bicep and the other tracing scars in the pitted wooden pillar. "You don't remember doing this?" her voice was a low growl in Sam's ear. Her fingers caressed his arm, head leaning in. Sam could smell Jo. She didn't wear perfume, but her blonde hair brushed his shoulder, and it smelled faintly of floral shampoo and cigarette smoke. At the first faint brush of her lips against his ear, Sam jumped, stammering all number of things, but nothing coherent.
Her breath tickled his ear, warm and tempting, her lips just barely out of reach if Sam tipped his head to nuzzle into the touch. He didn't even realize he had leaned back until Jo pulled away, a grin twitching at the corners of her mouth. "Maybe it wasn't just the demon," she teased, pressing back against him. Jo's soft lips wrapped around Sam's earlobe and he gasped, eyes dropping shut at the sudden shock of hot wetness. A little whine bubbled up from his chest when she pulled back, the air colder against his ear without her there. The almost too-rough scrape of Jo's sharp teeth closing back over the sensitive skin sent the whine up an octave and flashes of pleasure spiraling through his body.
Just when Sam was arching up, head tilting to the side to give the blonde better access to his skin, Jo pulled away entirely. Her footsteps echoed heavily in the closed bar. She wanted to stand in front of the tall, broad hunter who could pick her up and carry her like a rag doll. She wanted to stare down at him, bound fast like a sacrifice in the middle of her bar. She shoved a hand through her hair, pushing a handful of golden strands out of her face. "Did some part of you want me?" she asked, staring into Sam's face. She wasn't expecting an actual answer, which was just as well, since Sam's thoughts were clearly scattered. "You-- sorry, the demon said things about Dean. But he was right. Dean doesn't want me." Jo shook her head, the light strands of hair she'd shoved away floating back and catching the light. "I think you do, Sam." The words came out huskier than she'd intended. Watching Sam, his lips parted and cheeks pink with embarrassment and desire, ignited something inside her, and she found herself dipping down, a slender-fingered hand cupping Sam's cock through layers of fabric. He was already half-hard, and that started him squirming.
"You shouldn't be," Sam started, determined to ignore the way his hips were arching. "I mean, we shouldn't-- I don't remember what I did." He stammered, not even entirely sure his words were making understandable sentences any more, with the way she was gripping him, shifting ever so slightly and rubbing. His breath caught in his throat and Sam pulled at the ropes hard, harder than he had when he'd thought Jo was just joking about leaving him tied up.
Jo shook her head, dipping closer so she could nuzzle his jaw line a little. "What do you remember? Does it really make a difference?" Jo would have sounded more genuinely curious if her voice wasn't low and rough, or if she hadn't chosen that moment to slide in his lap, the soft swell of her breasts pressing against Sam's chest. She shoved his still-damp shirt up to bare a tanned expanse of muscular flesh marred and pitted by bruises and scars, reminders of the dangerous life Sam led. Jo let out a long breath, her heart-rate rising. She could feel Sam shifting under her, trying to work at the ropes and she glanced up, half-expecting to see him looking furious. The look in his blue-green eyes was dark and needy. His tongue slid out, licking unconsciously at his lips as he met her gaze.
Sam took a deep breath, trying to shake off the lust that had overcome his usual rational thought processes. Before he could do more than squeeze his eyes shut, she wrapped her mouth around one of his nipples. His body jerked underneath her, and Jo smiled around the little nub, flicking at it lightly with her tongue. So much for protesting. Sam's legs spread, and Jo could feel his cock straining at the crotch of his jeans. She ground down, teasing herself with the hardness that lay beneath layers of cotton and denim, and him with a prize that Sam definitely wanted, from the way his hips bucked up. Jo laughed, sliding back up to wrap her arms around Sam's neck, tangling her hands in his hair and tugging a little. She might have been too harsh-- Sam's breath escaped in a gasp as she forced his head back. "Jo?" he whispered, shoulders moving as he tried in vain to free himself. "Untie me?" He didn't intend it as a question, but that's the way it slipped out, uncertain and needy.
His breath sounded harsh and fast, cheeks deep pink with desire. Jo didn't answer verbally. She just squirmed, rubbing herself against the bulge in his pants and making no effort to free him from the ropes. Sam whined against her hair, pressing his lips to her forehead, to her temple, touching her the only way he could with his arms bound back. "I'm gonna--" Sam bit his lip and pressed his lips to her temple again, unsuccessfully trying to stifle a moan.
"Going to what?" Jo asked, growling out her own moan against Sam's stubbly jaw. She slid down, settling herself, hips twisting in little, taunting circles, and smoothing her hands back down his chest. All that strength flexing and straining futilely against her body sent lazy, sensual sparks through every limb.
"Christ," he hissed, hips bucking again, trying to get better friction. "Come in my pants, Jo. I'm going to come in my pants if you don't quit it." Sam tilted his head back, as though keeping his face away from her sweet smell would help settle him. It didn't, and Sam became acutely aware that he was baring his throat. Being in such a vulnerable position didn't help his arousal at all. If anything, his need grew sharper and his breath came in quick little pants. It was hard to think about much of anything when Jo pulled herself up, the length of her body with all its soft, sweet curves pressing against him. Sam wanted to wrap his hands around her hips, cup her breasts, hold her in his lap and make her stop grinding and just let him slide into her. But she was sucking at his exposed throat hard enough to leave a mark that would probably bruise, lapping at the bare flesh. He whimpered, head knocking back against the wooden column behind him. Her name rolled off his lips in a sound that was sheer, pleading desire.
Jo pulled back, admiring the small red mark she'd made on his throat and was about to say something else when a rapid knock sounded at the
door. It was a familiar sound, impatient. Without getting up or looking, she knew who would be standing on the bar's doorstep. She slid off Sam's lap and from the look on his face he knew, too. Sam was still breathing hard, hips twitching in helpless little motions. "Jo, don't leave me like this, please," Sam begged, the words quiet and desperate.
She stared at Sam thoughtfully, as though trying to work out a puzzle, but finally smirked. Sliding her hands between his legs, Jo was rewarded with a hoarse moan that Sam did his best to stifle, biting his lip to keep himself quiet. She spared a glance at the doorway again, and Sam's stomach knotted. She couldn't really open the door while he was like this, could she? But Jo dropped to her knees, unzipping Sam's jeans and pulling his cock free. It was hard, and big like the rest of him, and Jo licked her lips. "Only because you said please," she teased, pressing her lips to the head.
Sam could only manage a low, guttural moan when she finally swallowed him, calloused hands stroking the base of his cock, where her mouth couldn't reach. Jo's mouth was slick and hot and just absolutely perfect, and Sam was dimly thankful he couldn't move his hands because he wanted to hold onto her and thrust in. As it was, he could only arch and squirm while she leisurely sucked him down. The knocking at the door faded compared to the heart beat drumming in his head. His universe had narrowed to her hand on his hip and his cock, and her mouth, the way Jo's tongue pressed at the vein on the underside. She took him all the way down, and Sam couldn't hold himself in any more. He jerked and cried out something incoherent and probably embarrassing, his vision going white as pleasure crashed over him in a wave.
By the time Sam's vision had cleared and his brain had unscrambled enough for him to pay attention to what was going on around him, Jo had already tucked him back into his pants and undone the ropes. She shoved the door open, making a face at the broad-shouldered man waiting outside. "Dean, I thought you were going to call when you found Sam," she scolded, sounding for all the world as though she'd just been having a casual conversation.
Dean responded with something that sounded like "I sent Sam instead." Sam shook his head, trying to clear the last effects of Jo's... What? Mind game? Jo finished bitching Dean out for not calling and walked back over to Sam. She tugged him into a hug. "Don't scare me like that again, you idiot," she warned, loud enough for Dean to hear. Then, more quietly against Sam's ear, she added, "and never say your brother gets all the girls."
Author: ryuutchi
Recipient: Lynne_Mitchell
Rating: Adult
Pairing: Jo/Sam
Summary: He'd known what he was going to say before he'd shown up, but somehow the words had vanished from his mind as soon as he'd gotten through the door (though that might have been a fault of the blunt force trauma).
Author's Notes: This is set directly after Born Under a Bad Sign. If I said it was a serious exploration of the issues set out in that episode I'd be lying.
Warnings for het sex, dubious consent, bondage and Jo being just a little bit mean to our favorite puppy.
A quick thank you to koala_motchi, my beta. (It's quite a burden for you to be right all the time, isn't it?)
Jo glanced down at the thick, braided rope in her hands and gave it a tug, letting a bit of it slide through her fingers. The slight movement elicited a pained moan from Sam when the rope, already tied tight enough to cut into his wrists, tightened a bit more. Jo opened her mouth to apologize, but shook her head, the momentary guilt fading away. She watched Sam's muscles ripple under his t-shirt as he flexed, testing his bonds (and none too thoroughly, she noted). Sam probably couldn't get out of those ropes without some help, and she was willing to bet he wouldn't try, with that martyr complex of his.
She hid the wry smile that her lips had twisted in to and perched herself carefully on a barstool across from Sam. "So, you wanted to say you were sorry about what you did earlier?" she asked, sipping from a transparent pink sports bottle of holy water. Sam had said as much when he'd turned up on her doorstep, fifteen minutes before, while she was in the process of closing up the bar. Unwilling to take chances, Jo had brained him with the butt of her shotgun and dumped half the sports bottle over his chest. There'd been none of the usual reactions signaling demonic possession, but even so, Jo decided not to take chances.
She was trying not to admit to herself that it might not be a twisted form of revenge for what the demon-in-Sam's-body had done to her after all-- that some part of her hind-brain had been occupied for the past day and a half by how much she wouldn't have minded their positions being reversed. Her gaze slid down Sam's body, appreciative of how that wet shirt clung to his chest, outlining the flat planes of muscle. Jo licked her lips, watching the muscles tighten and strain again.
Sam's cheeks had gone all flushed at the little flick of her tongue and he dropped his head, staring at his lap instead of Jo. "Yeah, but... I don't remember much of what the demon did," he started, faltering. He'd known what he was going to say before he'd shown up, but somehow the words had vanished from his mind as soon as he'd gotten through the door (though that might have been a fault of the blunt force trauma). "Dean said I did some things I shouldn't have. And I remember flashes of it." He trailed off, watching the disconcertingly focused expression on Jo's face snap into something that might have been annoyance, or something stronger.
Their eyes met, his wide, blue and worried, and hers narrowed and dark. "You don't remember shoving me over onto the bar?" she demanded, watching his eyes go even wider as he floundered for the right question. Before he could speak, she swung herself off the stool and, in one swift movement, had her body pressed up against his side. Jo slid around the column to which Sam was tied, one hand wrapping around his bicep and the other tracing scars in the pitted wooden pillar. "You don't remember doing this?" her voice was a low growl in Sam's ear. Her fingers caressed his arm, head leaning in. Sam could smell Jo. She didn't wear perfume, but her blonde hair brushed his shoulder, and it smelled faintly of floral shampoo and cigarette smoke. At the first faint brush of her lips against his ear, Sam jumped, stammering all number of things, but nothing coherent.
Her breath tickled his ear, warm and tempting, her lips just barely out of reach if Sam tipped his head to nuzzle into the touch. He didn't even realize he had leaned back until Jo pulled away, a grin twitching at the corners of her mouth. "Maybe it wasn't just the demon," she teased, pressing back against him. Jo's soft lips wrapped around Sam's earlobe and he gasped, eyes dropping shut at the sudden shock of hot wetness. A little whine bubbled up from his chest when she pulled back, the air colder against his ear without her there. The almost too-rough scrape of Jo's sharp teeth closing back over the sensitive skin sent the whine up an octave and flashes of pleasure spiraling through his body.
Just when Sam was arching up, head tilting to the side to give the blonde better access to his skin, Jo pulled away entirely. Her footsteps echoed heavily in the closed bar. She wanted to stand in front of the tall, broad hunter who could pick her up and carry her like a rag doll. She wanted to stare down at him, bound fast like a sacrifice in the middle of her bar. She shoved a hand through her hair, pushing a handful of golden strands out of her face. "Did some part of you want me?" she asked, staring into Sam's face. She wasn't expecting an actual answer, which was just as well, since Sam's thoughts were clearly scattered. "You-- sorry, the demon said things about Dean. But he was right. Dean doesn't want me." Jo shook her head, the light strands of hair she'd shoved away floating back and catching the light. "I think you do, Sam." The words came out huskier than she'd intended. Watching Sam, his lips parted and cheeks pink with embarrassment and desire, ignited something inside her, and she found herself dipping down, a slender-fingered hand cupping Sam's cock through layers of fabric. He was already half-hard, and that started him squirming.
"You shouldn't be," Sam started, determined to ignore the way his hips were arching. "I mean, we shouldn't-- I don't remember what I did." He stammered, not even entirely sure his words were making understandable sentences any more, with the way she was gripping him, shifting ever so slightly and rubbing. His breath caught in his throat and Sam pulled at the ropes hard, harder than he had when he'd thought Jo was just joking about leaving him tied up.
Jo shook her head, dipping closer so she could nuzzle his jaw line a little. "What do you remember? Does it really make a difference?" Jo would have sounded more genuinely curious if her voice wasn't low and rough, or if she hadn't chosen that moment to slide in his lap, the soft swell of her breasts pressing against Sam's chest. She shoved his still-damp shirt up to bare a tanned expanse of muscular flesh marred and pitted by bruises and scars, reminders of the dangerous life Sam led. Jo let out a long breath, her heart-rate rising. She could feel Sam shifting under her, trying to work at the ropes and she glanced up, half-expecting to see him looking furious. The look in his blue-green eyes was dark and needy. His tongue slid out, licking unconsciously at his lips as he met her gaze.
Sam took a deep breath, trying to shake off the lust that had overcome his usual rational thought processes. Before he could do more than squeeze his eyes shut, she wrapped her mouth around one of his nipples. His body jerked underneath her, and Jo smiled around the little nub, flicking at it lightly with her tongue. So much for protesting. Sam's legs spread, and Jo could feel his cock straining at the crotch of his jeans. She ground down, teasing herself with the hardness that lay beneath layers of cotton and denim, and him with a prize that Sam definitely wanted, from the way his hips bucked up. Jo laughed, sliding back up to wrap her arms around Sam's neck, tangling her hands in his hair and tugging a little. She might have been too harsh-- Sam's breath escaped in a gasp as she forced his head back. "Jo?" he whispered, shoulders moving as he tried in vain to free himself. "Untie me?" He didn't intend it as a question, but that's the way it slipped out, uncertain and needy.
His breath sounded harsh and fast, cheeks deep pink with desire. Jo didn't answer verbally. She just squirmed, rubbing herself against the bulge in his pants and making no effort to free him from the ropes. Sam whined against her hair, pressing his lips to her forehead, to her temple, touching her the only way he could with his arms bound back. "I'm gonna--" Sam bit his lip and pressed his lips to her temple again, unsuccessfully trying to stifle a moan.
"Going to what?" Jo asked, growling out her own moan against Sam's stubbly jaw. She slid down, settling herself, hips twisting in little, taunting circles, and smoothing her hands back down his chest. All that strength flexing and straining futilely against her body sent lazy, sensual sparks through every limb.
"Christ," he hissed, hips bucking again, trying to get better friction. "Come in my pants, Jo. I'm going to come in my pants if you don't quit it." Sam tilted his head back, as though keeping his face away from her sweet smell would help settle him. It didn't, and Sam became acutely aware that he was baring his throat. Being in such a vulnerable position didn't help his arousal at all. If anything, his need grew sharper and his breath came in quick little pants. It was hard to think about much of anything when Jo pulled herself up, the length of her body with all its soft, sweet curves pressing against him. Sam wanted to wrap his hands around her hips, cup her breasts, hold her in his lap and make her stop grinding and just let him slide into her. But she was sucking at his exposed throat hard enough to leave a mark that would probably bruise, lapping at the bare flesh. He whimpered, head knocking back against the wooden column behind him. Her name rolled off his lips in a sound that was sheer, pleading desire.
Jo pulled back, admiring the small red mark she'd made on his throat and was about to say something else when a rapid knock sounded at the
door. It was a familiar sound, impatient. Without getting up or looking, she knew who would be standing on the bar's doorstep. She slid off Sam's lap and from the look on his face he knew, too. Sam was still breathing hard, hips twitching in helpless little motions. "Jo, don't leave me like this, please," Sam begged, the words quiet and desperate.
She stared at Sam thoughtfully, as though trying to work out a puzzle, but finally smirked. Sliding her hands between his legs, Jo was rewarded with a hoarse moan that Sam did his best to stifle, biting his lip to keep himself quiet. She spared a glance at the doorway again, and Sam's stomach knotted. She couldn't really open the door while he was like this, could she? But Jo dropped to her knees, unzipping Sam's jeans and pulling his cock free. It was hard, and big like the rest of him, and Jo licked her lips. "Only because you said please," she teased, pressing her lips to the head.
Sam could only manage a low, guttural moan when she finally swallowed him, calloused hands stroking the base of his cock, where her mouth couldn't reach. Jo's mouth was slick and hot and just absolutely perfect, and Sam was dimly thankful he couldn't move his hands because he wanted to hold onto her and thrust in. As it was, he could only arch and squirm while she leisurely sucked him down. The knocking at the door faded compared to the heart beat drumming in his head. His universe had narrowed to her hand on his hip and his cock, and her mouth, the way Jo's tongue pressed at the vein on the underside. She took him all the way down, and Sam couldn't hold himself in any more. He jerked and cried out something incoherent and probably embarrassing, his vision going white as pleasure crashed over him in a wave.
By the time Sam's vision had cleared and his brain had unscrambled enough for him to pay attention to what was going on around him, Jo had already tucked him back into his pants and undone the ropes. She shoved the door open, making a face at the broad-shouldered man waiting outside. "Dean, I thought you were going to call when you found Sam," she scolded, sounding for all the world as though she'd just been having a casual conversation.
Dean responded with something that sounded like "I sent Sam instead." Sam shook his head, trying to clear the last effects of Jo's... What? Mind game? Jo finished bitching Dean out for not calling and walked back over to Sam. She tugged him into a hug. "Don't scare me like that again, you idiot," she warned, loud enough for Dean to hear. Then, more quietly against Sam's ear, she added, "and never say your brother gets all the girls."