Christa was absolutely floored when Sam pushed her past the point of no return just by penetration once again. The coil of heat in her core exploded and she shook violently, grasping him as waves of pleasure crashed through her. He felt her tighten and had his hand over her mouth by the time she was half-screaming his name. Sam bucked his hips fast and rough as she shook on top of him. Several thrusts later, he clenched his jaw and swallowed a groan as he held her up and came on his own stomach. They both caught their breath, coming down from their highs. Christa climbed off him and rolled onto her side, panting, as the faint traces of her orgasm still made her sex pulse.
They lay next to one another in blissful quiet for several more moments before Sam looked over at her. He brushed a strand of her hair out of her face. "I should get back to my room," he said, despite his urges to pull her onto his face and lick her until she was screaming.
Christa just nodded sleepily, unsure of what the hell had just happened. All she knew is that the sex with Sam Winchester had been some of the best hetero sex she'd ever had. She wanted more of him, but her body was shutting down quicker than she liked.
Sam sat up, used her torn shirt as a clean-up rag, then pulled on his sweatpants. He leaned down and kissed her forehead before he snuck out of her room and back into his.
Dean Winchester could not remember the last time he had wet dreams. Ever since he got back from the motel in South Carolina, he'd been having them every night. He could never see who it was, but she sounded like Christa. They made it that much more agonizing when she pulled away from him in the kitchen. He didn't know what she was worried about; Sam had walked in on them doing much worse.
He closed his eyes again and replayed the dream in his mind. In it, he was having rough, urgent sex with a woman on the kitchen counter; she was clawing at him, begging for more, and he gave it to her until they both saw stars. The sensation was gone, though, and he opened his eyes.
His phone said it was 0730. Frustrated, he kicked off his boxers and bundled his sheets up to toss in the wash yet again. He also threw in some shirts and a couple pairs of jeans that were beyond ripe. He pulled on clean underwear and sweat pants and started down the hall to the laundry area.
Christa's door was cracked open and the light was on. He tapped gently before pushing the door open more.
She was seated at the small desk, writing in what looked like a journal. Without turning around, she asked, "What is it, Dean?"
He was somewhat surprised she knew it was him and cleared his throat. "Mornin'. You uh, you got some laundry? I'm gonna do laundry."
"Actually, yes. Gimme a second." She hopped up from her chair and immediately started yanking stuff out of her duffel bag. Christa finally approached him with her arms full of dirty clothes. "If you want to show me there, I'll take care of getting these loads started," she smiled at him. Dean took a moment to regard her fully. She was being almost too nice, too amenable, too relaxed. A brief thought floated around the edges of his mind about her being relaxed as she left South Carolina, too, but disappeared before he could put it together.
"Yeah, come on." He jerked his head and started down the hallway with her only a couple steps behind.
Sam had bacon cooked and draining, toasted bread with jam, and was finishing scrambling several eggs when Christa and Dean sauntered into the kitchen. Surprisingly, she was laughing at something he'd said and Sam felt somewhat relieved. Whatever was bothering Dean yesterday seemed to be forgotten news and they were getting along, which is what was important. It might make it easier for him to talk to Dean about Christa later.
Christa grabbed a couple plates of food and took them to the table, which was set already. "Look at you, Sammy! Thanks for cooking!"
"Smells good," Dean agreed and clapped his brother on the shoulder as he retrieved a coffee mug. "Coffee, Christa?"
"Um, duh." She joined the brothers and Dean handed her a mug filled with hot, black coffee. "Cream?" She asked, blowing on the coffee. For some reason, both brothers stiffened at that question and Christa's eyebrow lifted.
"Uh, in the fridge. Middle shelf on the door." Sam finally said. He finished scraping the eggs onto a large plate and headed to the table with coffee in one hand and eggs in another. Christa took a seat across from Sam and diagonal from Dean.
Breakfast was a quiet affair, much to Christa's amusement. Dean seemed to be unable to stop shoveling food into his mouth at an alarming rate and Sam nibbled on toast, his eyes glued to his phone. Christa finally cleared her throat and glared at Sam. "Are you working, Samuel?" Her voice was stern so he would know she meant it.
"Uh, well," he stuttered.
"Uh, well," Christa mimicked and leaned across the table to snatch his phone away. "No work! Christ, leave something for other hunters for once. You guys don't need to save the world every fucking day."
Dean swallowed, having watched this little interaction mainly because he could see straight down her shirt. He looked away just in time to avoid her catching him and looked at Sam, his eyebrows raised. Mouth full, he said, "She makes a good point Sammy."
"Ew, Dean, chew your food," Sam scolded. "Look, I promise I won't find cases for us for the next couple days. But reading the news isn't working."
Christa gave him A Face as she scrolled through his phone. "Crypto Zoology Today, The Daily Weirdness, Omens And Such… Sam these are all forums for wackadoodles and also where we find the bulk of our cases. I'm keeping your phone until you promise not to scan the Weird Wide Web to find work."
"Fine, Chris. I promise. Okay?"
She narrowed her eyes at him skeptically but slid his phone back across the table. "Okay. What're we doing today, anyway? There must be something fun around here to do for a threesome," she said, grinning.
Dean sputtered on a mouthful of eggs at the word "threesome."
Several months ago, the brothers discovered a retro arcade a few miles from the bunker. True to the time, all games cost only a quarter or fifty cents to play. There were no flashy cabinets or racing games newer than 1996. Christa felt a wave of nostalgia hit her like a brick as she walked into the arcade. Air hockey was set-up in the corner; coin machines were by the door and another one in the middle of the room. It wasn't big, but it was perfect. She felt tears prick her eyes as memories of her dad taking her to arcades when she was really little swelled in her mind. Dean glanced over and noticed the sadness in her eyes, wondering if bringing her had been a mistake. He hadn't even remembered her telling him about her experiences as a kid until just now. Sam looked down at her, also, and his brow furrowed in concern.
"Chris. We don't have to stay if it's too much. I'm sorry, I just… I forgot," Sam said.
"No, Sammy," she said, her voice thick with holding back tears, "It's perfect. I love it." She wiped her eyes and smiled brightly.
Dean swallowed the lump in his throat and headed off to a Galaga cabinet, muttering something about chick-flick moments.
"Feel like getting your ass kicked in air hockey?" Christa teased Sam and skipped over to the table.
"Your arms are like ten feet long! It's not fair!" Christa exclaimed as Sam won his third game of air hockey in a row. "Best seven of ten!" She demanded.
"Why don't you let me play?" Dean said as he approached Sam. Sam was laughing and shook his head, surrendering his bumper to his brother.
"Have at it, dude." Sam retreated to a Mrs. PacMan cabinet as Dean put quarters into the table to release the puck.
"Ready, princess?" He winked at Christa as he set the puck down in front of him.
Instead of scoffing, Christa batted her eyelashes and leaned forward, giving him a great view down her shirt once again. Her breasts were cupped by a very thin bralette. She noticed him looking this time and smirked mischievously. "Always love a laundry day," she drawled, using her upper arms to squeeze her breasts together.
His green eyes darkened as thoughts of what he wanted to do to her on top of the air hockey table flooded his mind. He flicked his eyes up and licked his lower lip, smirking back at her, "Wanna make it interesting?"
Christa leaned back, regarding Dean with that skeptical gaze she often used. "How so?"
His smirk grew wider, "Loser can only wear underwear the rest of the day when we get back to the bunker."
Christa shrugged and nodded in agreement, "Get ready to have your ass beat, Winchester."
Dean shook his head once and focused on the puck as he tapped it towards her.
Sam dragged a hand down his face as Dean sat on the couch next to him, clad only in his underwear. It was a very old pair of boxer shorts with holes near the hem. "You just had to lose, didn't you?" He groaned.
Dean shot him a look and changed the channel. "It's not like I tried to lose! She's got… Her…" he gestured at his own chest, miming breasts, "She had an unfair advantage!"
Sam laughed ruefully, "I still beat her."
Dean shot him another sour look.
Christa sauntered into the living room in an oversized sweater and leggings. She handed Sam a beer, then handed Dean one. She looked around, seeming to be confused for a moment. "Where's Castiel?"
Dean sipped his beer and looked at her out of the corner of his eye, "Why? You miss him?"
Christa rolled her eyes and sat down in the oversized chair across from the couch. "Just curious, Winchester. He just comes and goes as he pleases? Doesn't even call first?"
"Call who first?"
Christa screamed and jumped out of the chair when Castiel's voice came from thin air. She barely stopped herself from throwing her beer bottle at him, and only because her ears were hearing Sam and Dean yell at Cas before she knew what her body was doing.
"C'mon, Cas! We've talked about this!" Dean was saying.
"My apologies. I didn't mean to frighten you."
Christa took several deep breaths and sat back down, her adrenaline searing through her. She took a very long drink of beer as she gave him her most intense side-eye glare.
"Why are you naked, Dean?"
Dean also took a very long drink from his beer before he answered. "Lost a bet." That statement didn't seem to warrant any more questions, so Castiel sat down.
Pinpricks of heat made the hairs on the back of Christa's neck stand up as Castiel's eyes bored into her. Frustrated, she took a deep breath and whipped around, glaring at him with all of her fury, "What?!"
Sam and Dean turned their heads towards her at the same time. Hazel and green eyes widened and went from angel to human and back again.
"Why do you keep staring at me, dude? It is so uncomfortable! You're seriously creeping me out!"
Castiel glanced to Dean and then looked at the floor, apologetically. "I didn't mean to be creepy, Christa. My apologies. I um, I," he sighed deeply, frustrated with finding the words that would most succinctly convey his thoughts. "You are radiating sexual pheromones, which is impossible for a human, and some of the strongest I've ever smelled. I suppose you were unaware of this fact. If both Sam and Dean have been awkward around you – they are most likely having uncontrollable sexual thoughts. Were I not in control of this vessel, I assure you it would be doing the same."
Christa's eyes widened in shock and her jaw dropped. A hot flush spread over her face as she processed what Mr. Roboto just said to her. And so bluntly! "Excuse me?" Was all she managed in reply.
"Did you come in contact with any suspicious characters recently?" Castiel looked genuinely curious.
A laugh tore out of her throat as she looked over at Sam and Dean. "He does know what we do for a living, right? Of course I have. What are you getting at? You think I'm, like, hexed or something?"
"It is possible, though it's more likely you are poisoned or possessed." He looked pointedly at Christa, now. "Especially since Christa Edelwood does not have an anti-possession tattoo."
"There are traps and warding sigils everywhere, Cas. It's a moot point," Dean argued. Christa couldn't help but notice his eyes flick over to her, anyway. She held his gaze for a moment and then stared down at the floor.
Castiel leaned forward even more, "You seem to give off even more pheromones at certain intervals. Are you, by chance, thinking about sex?"
Christa could have punched this angel right in his damn face. She clenched her jaw and put her head in her hands. "Oh my God, you can't be serious."
Castiel's blue eyes narrowed as he examined Christa's body language and her muffled response. "I seem to have made you even more uncomfortable. Please think seriously about who you've seen lately, where you've been, and who you've had intercourse with. I will leave you alone now." With that, he was gone. The tension in the air was so thick that Christa found it slightly hard to breathe.
She got up without a word and retreated to her dorm room.
