Here it is. The SMUT. It isn't strictly necessary to read this in order to follow the story. You can skip it if it's not your thing. However, I feel it's necessary to the story for this to happen, and both B and Sam wanted it to happen, so here goes nothin'. (I believe I skipped use of condoms or discussion of other forms of birth control because it's fiction. They used it, they're safe.)

I stop at my bedroom door to send Sam to the bathroom, but when I turn towards him, he picks me up, pushes me against the wall, and kisses me until I see stars. He lets me up for air and sets me on my feet a few minutes or maybe hours later. I reach behind me and open the door.

He smiles and walks me backwards to the bed. When he starts to raise my sweater, I stop him. "Sit." I switch places with him and stand a couple of feet away to strip out of my sweater and blouse. He starts to speak, but I put a finger over his lips and unhook my bra. I lower my arms to let it slide down by increments until it rests on the back of my hands.

Sam fidgets like a dog who is sitting like a good boy, but really wants that treat. I grin and lower my hands to let the bra fall. Sam leans forward and grabs me and before it hits the floor.

"Ah, so you're a tease, huh?" He growls against my temple before burying his face between my breasts and sucking in a breath through his nose. "Wow you smell good. I've been dying to taste these since we started making copies! You'd turn at just the right time to rub up against me and God! I'd have to count pages or ceiling tiles to keep from shoving you against the copier…"

While he admires my boobs, I use my few remaining brain cells to take off my jeans and kick them (and my socks) away. My thought process ends there because he takes my left nipple in his mouth and the world shrinks to him and me. "You think it wasn't the same for me? You'd reach for something and a whole world of muscles would flex…" Then I'm lost in what he's doing.

"You like that, huh Baby?" It's so cliched I should laugh, but I don't.

"Yes, that's, yeah, just…just exactly like that, and Oh my Goddess! Sam!" He chuckles, and little spurts of air puff out from between his lips and skate across my belly, as he kisses his way downwards. When he reaches the edge of my panties he hooks his thumbs in the sides and looks up at me – asking silent permission.

"Oh yeah, yes, please…" He grins with delighted lust, but doesn't take them off. Instead, he releases me, and stands up. Taking me by the waist, he switches places and lays me down on the bed. He strips out of everything but his boxers, then kneels and removes my last piece of clothing.

Before I can comment on his resemblance to Michelangelo's David statue he gasps out, "Holy crap B! You're a true redhead!" I should be furious but damnit, he sounds positively thrilled. My laugh is cut short when he dives in, shoving my legs apart, and wrapping his arms around my thighs to hold me in place as his tongue goes to work.

An electric jolt of pleasure shoots from my clit to my spine spreading heat from there like a blast field from an explosion. It's so unexpected that for a moment my brain disconnects from reality. "Sam!"

He laughs, vibrating and adding to the burn still rolling through my body. "Did you just come because my tongue touched your clit? Seriously?"

I swallow and lick my lips. "Uh, yeah. Wow, I've never felt anything like that before." A blush spreads out from my cheeks until it takes over my entire body. "I'm not a virgin, but I'm not what you'd call massively experienced either."

He stands and lays down beside me. "How can that be?" Moving in close he wraps an arm around my waist, hooks my right arm around his shoulder and kisses me, long, slow, and deep. When he comes up for air he rubs his nose against mine. "You're so fucking beautiful…I thought sure you'd be married or have a boyfriend."

How has he shocked me again in the space of five minutes? I wonder.

"Most guys see what they want to see. I look like a sweet little librarian who wouldn't even raise her voice. That's not me at all. I want to do something with my life. I want to make a difference in this world!" His smile grows as I speak, surprising me yet again.

"That's what I want too!" He squeezes my middle. "That's why Dean and I do what we do."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, of course. Dean pitches it, 'Saving People, Hunting Things, The Family Business'."

"You should get that printed on a tee shirt."

He laughs, "Oh my God. Never suggest that to Dean, he might do it."

That's the end of discussing things.

He lifts me up, throws the blankets aside, arranges me against the pillows, and proceeds to demonstrate that though I am older, there are certain areas where his experience far exceeds my own. His tongue does things to my boobs that I think might be illegal. I ride his erection through his boxers until he decides it's time for the main event. He shimmies out of them, and I swear I hear a needle being dragged across a record.

"Holy shit, Sam! Is that all you?" Without doubt, the stupidest question I've ever asked. Women talk about guys who are big, and I had assumed from his height that he'd be above average, but… "That is never gonna fit."

His smile is suitably smug. "Yes it will. You're a tall girl. Trust me, we'll go slow; I've had experience with this before." He sits up and kisses me hard, while one of his hands finds my clit again, and the other inserts the tip of tab A into slot B.

Distraction is the key here. While he kisses me and strokes my body, he eases into me by small increments. He's barely halfway in when I come again from his fingers on my clit. Taking advantage, Sam pushes in another whole inch. When I unclench, he grins at me, and our bodies meet flush up against each other.

On that last stroke he finds the spot I didn't think I had. The rush of sensation steals my breath, and I arch my back to meet him again. Every part of the intellectual, highly educated woman falls away from me. Animal need replaces it. I wrap my legs around him and push at his ass with my heels. The noises that come out of me sound like I'm possessed by a dozen different animals. On his third thrust the world-shattering orgasm of my life shotguns through my body, simultaneously destroying and rebuilding every nerve between my pussy and my brain.

When it fades enough that I'm coherent again, I start meeting him thrust for thrust. "Oh, my fucking God, Sam!"

"B…Oh God Baby stay with me, I'm close, so close."

"Yes! Sam, come on, you can do it, you're amazing. Here comes another one! Come with me!"

He does. His face scrunches up, his nostrils flair, the cords stand out on his neck, and I clamp down on him as he hits that spot that makes me go nuclear.

"They'll have to have Armageddon without me. I'm not going to be able to walk for a month."

Sam's evil chuckle vibrates through my chest. "Me either. I feel like I just fucked a tornado."

I laugh and it bounces him up and down where he's laying with his head on my shoulder, his arm across my middle. "You. You just had to be a porn star with puppy dog eyes, didn't you? I've never come so many times in one night!"

He raises his head. "Never!?" I don't miss the pride in his voice.

"No, Casanova, never."

"Cool." He shifts so that we're eye to eye, then rolls on his back and gathers me in against his side before pulling the covers up over us.

In the early hours of the morning, he wakes me with kisses. I bury my hands in his hair and run my fingers through the thick strands while kissing back. He moves to my neck, then down to my breasts, tasting as he goes. This time when he reaches my clit he doesn't stop. By the time he feels he's done the matter justice, I'm a blissed-out puddle.

"What, no snarky comment? No hyper-descriptive turn of phrase?" He asks. I've never seen a man so pleased with himself in my life.

"Fuck off. I'm still in orgasm land."

"Imagine how much more popular Disneyland would be if THAT was a section of the park."

I stare at him in shock, and his mouth falls open at his own audacity. We bury our faces in the pillows and howl into the cotton, so we don't wake the whole neighborhood. When we come up for air I meet his eye and can't stop the words that tumble out of my mouth.

"What sort of rides do you think they'll have?" And we're howling again. Before my awful wit can come up with more obscene jokes a fist pounds on the door.

"What the hell you guys? I was finally asleep! You sound like a couple of teenagers who smoked too much weed!" We hear Dean stomp down the stairs.

We giggle together, and then I climb to my knees I straddle him and guide him inside me. I manage to keep quiet, and Sam gets away with a few groans before we lose ourselves again.

I wake the next morning in a world made of scents. In my immediate vicinity is the smell of Sam. He's made up of sweat and a sort-of pine smell which I assume is aftershave/deodorant. There's a hint of something else though – something that smells good, but it shouldn't – the way gasoline does. It has an acrid tang like ashes in a fireplace, but it's oddly exciting. I make a mental note to ask him when he wakes up. Further afield I scent coffee and bacon; ah, Dean is awake.

I should get up, but when I sit up I look at Sam, and I forget all about breakfast. He lays flat on his back with his head tipped to one side, his lips slightly parted. Relaxed in sleep, if it weren't for the shadow of his beard, he'd look about 15 years old. He takes my breath away.

My phone lays on my nightstand. I bend and grab it without disturbing the mattress more than a little and snap a dozen pictures of him. Then I slip out of bed and put the phone in my robe pocket.

He wakes just as I turn around. Scrubbing at one eye with the heal of his hand, he feels for me with the other. When he finds the bed empty the look of disappointment on his face is gratifying. Shame on me.

I climb back into bed with him, and he gathers me in close. "Where do you think you're going young lady?"

"To pee, good sir."

"Oh well, I suppose that's acceptable." The disappointed shade in his eyes vanishes and he gathers me in for a small flood of kisses.

"Also, it smells like your brother is making breakfast. Should I be nervous about that?"

"No, actually, Dean is a really good cook."

"That's good to know, but I was thinking more in terms of poison, or at least spit."

"What, for having the noise sex, that he, himself suggested?" Sam laughs. "I wouldn't put it past him to spit in my coffee, but not yours. Besides, he owes me for the dozens of nights I've spent in the Impala while he's brought some rando back from the bar."

"Well, you're a good brother! This better be one fine breakfast." I kiss the end of his nose. I use his surprise to slip out of his arms and head for the shower.

After we're both clean and my hair is wrangled into some semblance of order, we head downstairs. Dean sits at the table reading off a laptop and drinking coffee. An empty plate with just a smear of syrup sits beside him.

"You messed up my kitchen but didn't make food for everyone?"

He gives me a withering look, "It's in the oven. I was hungry and you two were still asleep when I got out of the shower."

I roll my eyes, but bend down and kiss his cheek in thanks. Sam brings the food to the table, so I grab us plates and utensils.

Dean looks over the laptop at Sam. "Bobby and Mrs. Yoda are at the library by now. I told them we'd be over as soon as you two were done fu- Ow! Dude that hurt!" Dean rubs at the shin Sam just kicked.

"You did not tell them we were late because of that!?" Sam asks, eyes wide.

"Dean!?" I gasp at the same time.

The pained expression he's faking slides into his trademark smirk. "Of course not! Besides, I'm certain no one has to tell them what you two were up to last night."

He's right of course. I realize that I'm not upset by this fact. Not one scrap of Catholic guilt anywhere in my brain. Huh.

Sam looks at me, I look at him. We both gage how the other feels about this. I'm not just ok with it, I'm pleased. Hell, I'm fucking ecstatic!

Hoping he is too, I put my hand on the table palm up. Please be happy, don't be embarrassed! I beg in my head. While I've known him for less than a week, I feel that Sam's not a prude, he just needs emotional connection with his fucking. And although I've always felt it was stupid to hook up with someone without a couple of dates first, this time it was natural. I didn't think about it, I just went with it.

Sam's smile of wicked pride puts all of Dean's hints of innuendo and naughty grins to shame. He takes my hand and kisses the back of my fingers. There it is. We're together.

Dean makes puking noises before taking his plate to the sink.