Chrys was sitting at a laundromat table, watching Sam bend over in front of a washing machine while she pretended to work. She was doing yet more research, digging into deeper and more arcane knowledge and texts, trying to find a way to stop the apocalypse. They'd been at it for two days, since the boys had come back from heaven.
Dean had been silent and angry the entire time. He had booked them two separate rooms without saying a word to Sam. He'd only spoken to Chrys, and that was only to tell her that he was several doors down at the motel.
"Earth to Chrys," Sam said gently, taking the seat next to her and draping his arm across the back of her chair.
She turned and looked at him. "Sorry, what?"
He smirked and pulled her into him. She went willingly, laying her head on his shoulder. Research was creating a headache at the base of her skull, and his warmth beat it back.
"I was asking what you want to eat. We can pick it up on the way back to the motel."
She groaned and closed her eyes. "I don't care," she said softly, "My brain feels like jelly, Sammy."
His deep chuckle soothed her.
Sam smiled at the sight of Chrys sleeping on the front seat of Baby, her head resting on his thigh. Her face was pressed into his lower stomach, her hair spread out behind her and draped over his leg. God, she's gorgeous.
A plan had started to form in his mind, and he didn't want her to know about it… He didn't want to embarrass her. And since he didn't think saying the words to her would be a good idea, maybe this would tell her without words.
Maybe he could tell her how he felt without saying it out loud.
He's in a weird mood.
Chrys followed Sam to the door of the motel, her arms laden with yet more books, her brain still feeling like jelly. She was exhausted, but too keyed up to sleep, so she supposed that more research would be the way to go for now.
She waited for him to open the door, yawning hugely into her shoulder. He turned back and smiled gently at her, then opened the door and stepped aside to let her in.
Her eyes narrowed. "What are you doing?"
He looked at her quizzically. "What do you mean?"
She walked in past him, still eyeing him suspiciously. "Why are you being nice to me?"
He came in after her, shutting the door behind them. "I'm always nice to you."
She chuckled. "Not this nice, Sammy. I smell something weird in the air."
She put the books on the table, and as soon as her arms were free, his hands landed on her hips. He used one to sweep her hair over one shoulder and started pressing kisses to the exposed side of her neck. She smirked and tilted her head back, leaning into him. "Ah ha," she said softly, "I knew it."
He smiled against her skin. "You're a smart woman, beautiful."
She hummed and arched into his hand when it ran up her side and gently cupped one breast. "I've always been sought after for my brains."
He was nipping the spot where her shoulder met her neck, and she whimpered a little. "Oh, Sam…"
He tweaked her nipple, making her gasp as sensation wound its way lazily down to her core. "Shh, beautiful," he said softly against her ear. "Let me take care of you."
He turned her in his arms until she was facing him, and she took the opportunity to look up and press soft kisses along his jaw, relishing the stubble there. Her hands ran up from his waist, up his hard stomach, to his chest. He turned his head to catch her mouth with his, kissing her tenderly, the sweetness in his gentle touch making her weak in the knees.
She kissed him back, just glad he was touching her again. They hadn't had sex since he had taken her in that motel bathroom, under the effects of Famine. Which had, of course, been some of the best sex they'd ever had, even if it should have put her in the hospital.
Castiel had informed her in his dry, no-nonsense way that a woman without the benefit of rapid healing, a gift from Lucifer, would have probably have a broken bone, or at least dislocated hips. And as humiliating as that conversation had been, she had taken a moment to be grateful that she was ultimately fine. She hadn't realized how rough it had really been.
But she didn't want to think about angels, Lucifer or Castiel, right now. Not when Sam was finally kissing her, after two and a half long weeks of dry pecks on the cheek. Not when he was finally going to touch her again, and he was backing her up toward the bed gently.
She moved her arms up to wrap around his neck, relishing the feel of his hard shoulders. When his hands settled at her hips and began to lift her, her legs automatically began to lift as well, to wrap themselves around his waist.
Before they could, he was laying her back onto the bed. She sighed and just let her legs hug his hips, running her fingers through his hair as he moved to two of them up so she was leaned back against the pillows.
He sat back, and she watched smugly as he reached behind to strip his shirt off. Mine.
"Chrys," he said softly, his hands now on her knees, "I want you to let me take care of everything, okay?"
She frowned. "What?"
He leaned over her again, resting his weight on his forearms on either side of her. He pressed his lips to the place where her neck came up to meet her jaw, and she tilted her head, automatically submitting to him. His lips were gentle, as was the hand he had placed on her waist, kneading softly.
"Sam," she whispered, "I don't understand…"
He moved up to press his lips against her ear. "I know, beautiful, I just…" He sighed and rested his head on her shoulder. She automatically ran her fingers through his hair, hoping to provide some sort of comfort. "Chrys," he murmured into her skin, "I stole your first time, and then I-"
She rolled her eyes. "Sam, for fuck's-"
"And then I… Did what I did… In that motel, when Famine… And I… Chrys, I need you to let me do this for you, please." His voice was broken and hoarse, and it tugged at every heartstring she had. She closed her eyes against the storm of emotion in her chest. Still, weeks and weeks and weeks after she had forgiven him for not knowing she was a virgin (which was not his fault), and weeks after she had forgiven him for that motel bathroom (which, again, she didn't consider his fault), here he was, her Sam, still begging her to let him make it up to her.
She turned her head to let her lips brush his ear. "If I do," she whispered, "can this be the end of this? You'll consider yourself forgiven?"
He moved so he was looking into her eyes, and she fought the almost overwhelming urge to look away from the vulnerability in his. He nodded slowly, whispering, "Yeah, yeah, I can do that."
She smiled a little, loving him so much she ached with it. "Okay."
He nodded once and kissed her again, gently, thoroughly. When he ran his tongue along her bottom lip, she opened for him, giving him control when he swept in, exploring her mouth, turning her on in places she hadn't even known she could be turned on.
He pulled away to lay hot, gentle kisses along her jaw, then down her neck, then down to her collarbone. His soft lips pressed against the bone there, feathering caresses along her clavicle as he gently moved his hand to her waist, slipping his fingers under the hem of her shirt and pulling it up.
He moved fast, forcefully reminding her of how strong he was, how graceful he could be. Before she could blink, he was kneeling in front of her, off the bed. She sat up on her elbows to watch him slowly untie each sneaker, placing them next to the bed once he'd gotten them off, then rolling her short socks off. She fought with her emotions again when he lovingly placed a kiss on the top of each foot before moving to lean over her again.
Then he was kissing her waist, along the strip of flesh he'd exposed when he had pulled her shirt up. She whimpered and arched into him helplessly, wondering mindlessly how he could make her like this without ever actually touching her yet.
He was up to her ribs, just beneath her breasts. He sat up briefly to whip her shirt off, making her gasp, and making her hair spill over her shoulder and spread along her chest.
His eyes were wide when he sat back, devouring her with his hot gaze. He put his hands on her waist again, then slid her skirt off of her. She lifted her hips to help, mesmerized by the look in his eye as he finally got the skirt off of her long legs.
He looked at her for another moment, then ran a hand over his mouth. "Jesus fuck, Chrys, you're gorgeous."
Incredibly, she felt a blush rising on her cheeks. The man's had his tongue inside you, she chided herself, stop blushing. Plus, it's not like he hasn't said it before.
But he hadn't, not like this. Not with that look in his eye, like he was deciding which part of her her to eat first. Not with that reverent undertone, like she was cherished. Not after everything they'd been through, with her healing and with his withdrawal. Not with that new scar on his shoulder, forever marking him as hers.
Not like this.
He'd never called her gorgeous like he was in love with her.
She didn't know what to say, she didn't know what to do. She wasn't good at this, it was uncharted territory. So she sat up just enough to reach for him, needing him on top of her, needing to be pressed against him.
He came willingly, falling upon her, his face pressed against her neck. She whimpered and hugged his waist with her thighs again, tilting her head back to let his stubble set her on fire when he nuzzled her.
He kissed his way down her neck again, making her whimper and squirm beneath him. When he bent to take one nipple into her mouth, her back arched and she cried out, her hands pulling at his hair. "Sam!"
She felt him smile against her, and she moaned again when he sucked hard. He bit down just hard enough to hurt, and her hips bucked up into him, the feeling of his jeans pressed against her core sending her higher. By the time he had paid the same attention to her other breast, she was writhing beneath him, all sense of control lost.
"Sam, please, please, oh, fuck-"
He cut her off by coming back up to kiss her gently, making her whimper and relax against him. His hand moved down her stomach, the callouses and the tenderness making her shiver and move her hips against him. When his fingers finally found her core, she cried out into his mouth, feeling how wet she already was against him. She felt like she was on fire, any common sense or thought of holding back was gone. She was desperate for him.
He slid one finger into her easily, then another. He moved them languidly in an out of her, ignoring her desperate attempts to make him move faster. She moaned in frustration.
He moved to whisper in her ear, his hot breath on her skin making her eyes roll back in her head. "Have I ever told you how much I love the noises you make, baby?" He finally picked up the pace, and she tilted her head back and cried out when he started dragging against that magical spot inside her. "Those noises haunt me, Chrys," he said roughly, "you haunt me."
She was bucking wildly into his hand, barely able to catch her breath as his skilled fingers brought her to the brink. When his thumb came in contact with her clit, she tilted her head back and screamed as her orgasm slammed through her. Her legs were trembling and jerking, and she couldn't seem to stop crying out his name. Instead of covering her mouth, like he usually did, Sam just rested his head on her shoulder and listened as she came.
What seemed like a lifetime later, he pressed a kiss to her cheek, then moved his way down her neck again. When he kissed down to her stomach, she came out of her lust-filled haze enough to realize where he was going.
She stopped him with a gentle hand on his cheek. He looked up at her, and she drowned a little in those gorgeous brown eyes. "Sam," she said hoarsely, "not tonight, please, I need you."
He gazed at her for another minute, then nodded. "Okay, beautiful, whatever you want."
He took his time coming back up to her, pausing to run his teeth over a nipple before he came up to press his lips against hers. She ran her fingers through his hair and fisted them to hold him there, kissing him fiercely, possessively. Mine.
Her hands moved from his hair down his ridiculously muscled chest, tracing the muscles on his stomach as she made her way to his belt. She undid it slowly, letting him feel every movement as she popped the button on his jeans and pulled his zipper down.
He pulled away from her mouth and pressed his forehead to hers, his eyes closed, his breathing heavy. "Fuck, Chrys."
"I know," she said softly as she pulled him free of his boxers, savoring the heavy feel of him in her hand.
He sat up suddenly, then backed up and stood so he could push his jeans to the floor. His eyes never left her, seeming to soak her in. Which was fine with Chrys, because she was soaking him in, too.
That incredible body of Sam's. His hard chest, his stomach that had everything that made smart girls stupid. His slim hips, his long, strong legs. His broad shoulders, his muscled arms. Those fucking hands, which Chrys was pretty damn sure were actually magical.
His strong jaw, covered in stubble. The smirk gracing his lips because he knew she was surveying him, and that she thought he was amazing. Those hot brown eyes, doing the same to her, finding the same conclusion. Chrys had never really felt beautiful until Sam looked at her.
She smiled back at him. "Come back here, handsome," she said softly.
He crawled up her body slowly, worshipping her. Starting at her ankles, he pressed tiny kisses all the way up her legs. He stopped at her inner thigh to suck a mark into the sensitive flesh, then turned to her core. He nosed her clit, making her jump, and ran his tongue up and down her entrance a few times, tasting her.
He kissed his way up her stomach, stopping to lav the hollow of her hip bones with his tongue, to dip that tongue into her navel, to nibble along her ribs. By the time he finally, finally, made it up to kiss her softly, she was breathless with wanting and pent up emotion.
He nuzzled her neck, his arms coming down on either side of her so he could rest his weight on his forearms. He kissed the place where her neck and shoulder met. "Fuck, Chrys."
She nodded wordlessly, running her fingers through his hair.
He lined himself up and pressed into her slowly, so she could feel every moment of him stretching her. She gasped at the sensation, it really had been too long since he'd touched her. The feeling of fullness and being stretched to the limit was starting the heat low in her belly again, along with the way he was whispering in her ear.
"You were right, before, when you said I'd never felt the way I felt about you when I first saw you," he said softly, distracting her from the feeling in her loins. "God, you were gorgeous, I thought you were the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen in my life. And then you punched me in the face. I couldn't have been more… Taken, with you, beautiful."
She whimpered, his words making emotion rise up in her, even as the heat in her core tightened. She wrapped her legs around his waist and looped her arms around his neck, hoping he'd stop talking before she cried, and hoping that he'd never stop talking.
"God, you're perfect," he continued in that husky, whispered voice, moving in and out of her slowly, lovingly. "The way you move in those damn skirts, your voice, your skin, fuck, Chrys, you're perfect."
She couldn't take it anymore. She turned her head to catch his lips with hers, shutting her eyes against the tears there. He picked up his rhythm a little, and she moaned, feeling him touch every part of her she'd ever wanted to be touched. He reached one hand down to start a gentle back and forth motion over her clit, making her buck and cry out into his mouth.
Fuck, she was close, and he was warm and there and Sam, saying sweet things to her and being there with her.
She opened her eyes to look at him, wanting to see him when she came, and found him already staring down at her adoringly. There was no hiding the emotions in his eyes, and even if he could hide it normally, he couldn't hide it from her here, now.
Sam loved her.
She whimpered and touched his face, her heart thudding in her chest as he tilted his head into it. She bit her lip to keep the tears from her eyes, and to keep the noises that were struggling to come out of her in. This was a time for quiet, not for screaming.
He came back down until they were nose-to-nose, his lips brushing hers gently. "I know," he said softly, "I know, it's okay, Chrys."
She couldn't stop the tears gathering in her eyes. "Sam, I can't, I don't… I can't-" I can't say I love you. Please don't make me.
He shook his head and kissed her gently again. "I know, it's okay, Chrys, you don't have to say it. Just let go, come for me, beautiful."
Her orgasm was gentler this time, but no less intense. It drew out forever, with him still moving inside her until his heat spilled into her, his lips pressed against hers. She held him close, kissing him back, wishing she was a whole person, so she could tell him everything she felt for him.
Sam lay on his back, one arm wrapped around Chrys, who was sleeping soundly, the other hand tucked behind his head.
He had wanted to give her first time back. He had wanted it to be sweet and light and fun, and it had turned into them declaring their love for one another without words.
Well that… Went well?
The look in her eyes when he'd looked down at her, when he'd come so close to telling her how he'd felt, was still like a punch in the gut. There had been so many emotions in those wide, wet blue eyes. Love, terror, regret, grief… His woman was a smorgasbord of feelings.
He had never loved her more.
**Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.
