Chrys slept better next to Sam than she had in a year and a half.
Sam woke up on his back, alone in bed.
He frowned and rubbed a hand down his face. Are we really going back to square one? He squashed his irritation immediately. If Chrys needed him to go back to square one, he would. He couldn't imagine what him dying had put her through, because he couldn't imagine what he would do if she died.
When he took stock of his surroundings, he realized that the shower was running. There she is.
He made a game of counting how many ways she would kick his ass if he tried to get in with her while he waited for her to come out.
When she did, his heart damn near stopped.
She was wrapped in a thick towel (definitely not one from the motel), but it was short. It stopped just at her upper thigh, showing off her long, lovely legs. She had gained a little bit of weight, he realized, just enough to make her healthier. She was towelling her hair dry with one of the motel towels.
She met his eyes and gave him a tired smile. "Morning."
He smiled. "Morning."
She sat on the edge of the bed and sighed. "Do you think Dean would let us sleep for a day?"
Sam shrugged when she looked back at him. "I just came back from the dead, I think Dean would let us do damn near anything we wanted to do."
She nodded and stood to get her cell phone. "Good. I'm cashing that chip in for you, Sammy."
She typed on her phone, and without really considering it, he reached up and fingered the ends of her damp hair.
She jumped and whipped around to look at him. He jerked back and held his hands up to show her he meant no harm.
"Sorry, sorry, wasn't thinking."
"Sorry, sorry, wasn't thinking."
Chrys tamped down the warm feeling his fingers in her hair had brought up and tried to look firm. "Sam, just because you're back doesn't mean I'm going to jump right into bed with you."
He nodded, hazel eyes wide. "I know."
"Okay then," she said with a confidence that she did not feel. "Put a shirt on, Sammy, and let's go to breakfast."
They went with Dean to a cheesy diner a few blocks away. When they got a booth, Sam had to hide his hurt and surprise when Chrys slid in next to Dean. He was further surprised when Dean not only didn't bat an eye, but laid his arm across the back of the bench, almost around her.
Chrys and his brother sat close, and Sam listened to their easy chatter with envy burning in his heart. He wanted to be there again, with her, talking and touching easily. She was two feet away from him and he missed her like crazy.
After they ordered, Chrys stood. "I'm gonna step outside, I'll be right back."
"I'll go with you," Sam blurted, desperate to be with her.
She cocked an eyebrow. "Eager to watch me suck cancer?" She shrugged. "Whatever."
He followed her out, berating himself for being stupid while simultaneously admiring her legs in the dark fabric that covered them. He missed her skirts, but there was something to be said for leggings.
When they got outside, she leaned against the wall, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it. He watched her lean her back against the wall elegantly, and tried to wrestle the hunger rising in his chest.
"You started smoking again."
Even though it wasn't a question, she nodded. "Yeah, there didn't seem to be a good reason to quit anymore. Not without… You know."
He leaned against the wall next to her, searching for the right words to the question he wanted to ask.
"Lucifer killed her," Chrys said softly on an exhale. "He got possessive and mean and he killed her."
A bolt of pain hit Sam in the chest, even though he'd known what she was going to say. There obviously wasn't a baby running around. "Oh."
She nodded, and though she showed no other signs, the tightness around her eyes told him she was upset. "Yeah, it was really, really awful."
He wanted to take her into his arms again, start to erase all of the pain she'd been through. But he knew that kind of comfort wouldn't be welcomed.
So instead, he reached over and took her hand in his, lacing their fingers together. He didn't turn to look at her, just kept his eyes forward and relished the feeling of her warm skin.
She stiffened for a moment, then relaxed and just held his hand. She held it until they got back to the table. And even though she still sat next to Dean, Sam felt better.
After breakfast, they all wanted to go back to sleep, so they made their way back to the motel. When they got there, Chrys went to her room and quickly shut the door behind her.
She leaned against it and rubbed her face hard. No sleeping with the hunter, Summers. Keep it together, girl.
Jumping into bed with Sam seemed crass and wrong and hasty. He'd just gotten back from a tour in hell. She'd just left her girlfriend for him. It was unseemly.
And, God help her, she wanted him so bad she could barely think.
Cold shower, she thought to herself firmly.
Sam sat on his bed, hands clasped loosely between his knees, fighting the urge to go to Chrys.
She just got out of a relationship. She's heartbroken, not horny. She'll tear your arm off and beat you to death with it if you go over there.
Nothing was working.
Dean groaned. "Dude, just go over there and talk to her. Quit moping around here."
Sam frowned. "Shut up, Dean. She pretty obviously doesn't want me in there."
"Yeah, but if she beats your ass when you try, maybe you'll be less of a bitch about it."
Sam glared at his brother, but the gentle prompting was really all he needed. He walked to the door and went out without another word, Dean's laughter ringing in his ears.
He stood in front of Chrys's door again, but only fought with himself for a moment before he knocked.
Dean hoped they would just start fucking again and get it over with.
As bitter as the thought was, Dean could look past his own misery to be happy for Sam and Chrys. He was glad they were reunited, and although his heart ached for Bella, he was also glad Chrys had come with them.
Now, all those two morons had to do was make up, and he would be able to grieve for his lost life in peace.
The knock at the door made Chrys jump. She blinked, then frowned. God dammit, Sam.
She opened the door, and the heat in his eyes bowled her over a little. Which irritated her. "What do you want, Sam?"
He cocked an eyebrow, which may have actually killed a lesser woman. "You know what I want, Chrys."
She shivered, then shook her head. "Sam, we talked about this-"
"No," he interrupted firmly, his voice pitched low. And even though she was no longer compelled to obey him, it made something instinctive in her crave his dominance.
"No, we didn't talk about this," he said softly, taking a step inside. "You talked about this."
She took in a deep breath. "Okay. What do you want to say?"
He took another step forward, forcing her to take a step back to avoid being touched by him as he shut the door gently behind him. His hot gaze raked up and down her body, taking in the tunic she was wearing, taking in her lack of leggings, her hair tangled around her face.
"I want you, Chrys," he said darkly. "Dean won't tell me how long I've been gone, but I can feel your absence. I can feel how long it's been since I've touched you."
She forced herself not to make a sound as she took another step back. "Sam, I…"
"You what, Chrys?" he asked softly, his voice low and dangerous and tremble-inducing. "Tell me, beautiful."
"I…" She sighed and ran her hands through her hair, trying to keep hold of herself. "Look, obviously I want you, but, it feels… Wrong," she finished lamely.
"Wrong?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow and crowding toward her again. "Or is it that it's wrong that we haven't done this yet?" She took in a shuddery breath, and his eyes zeroed in on her mouth. "Is it that you want me to fuck you so bad you can barely see straight?"
She finally let out a whimper, and met his eyes as she took the last step back she could and bumped against the wall. "Sam…"
He stepped forward, his chest millimeters away from touching her, his breath mingling with hers as she looked up at him and finally, finally gave in to Sam.
His eyes softened, and he brought a hand up to almost touch her face. He didn't, but let it hover there. "Chrys, if you don't want this, tell me now, and I'll go. Take a cold shower, find a lake to jump in, whatever you need from me. Tell me if you don't want this."
But Chrys had run out of words. She'd been talking to herself, and to him, talking about how she shouldn't want this, couldn't want this. She was desperate and heartbroken, she couldn't possibly want him so soon. She was out of words.
So she reached up, wrapped her hands around the back of his neck, and brought his mouth crashing down on hers.
He growled and kissed her hard, pushing her against the wall. His hands were suddenly everywhere, her waist and her breasts and her face, until one settled with his fingers buried in her hair, and the other gripped her hip hard.
She ran her hands down his chest until she was at the hem of his t-shirt, tugging hard until he broke away and stripped it off. As soon as he was done, he was kissing her again, ands he was able to touch him again.
That beautiful, ridiculous chest, that had somehow become more defined since she'd been with him last. She traced the muscles there, running her nails across the anti-possession tattoo he sported. He shuddered, and she smiled against his lips.
He fisted his hand in her tunic and pulled it up, making her gasp as cool air hit her bare skin. It was his turn to smile against her lips. "Still no underwear, beautiful?"
She shook her head as much as she could. "Never," she muttered against him.
His hand left her hair and he was suddenly lifting her. She whimpered and wrapped her legs around his trim waist, pressing kisses along his jaw and his neck until she bit him on the shoulder, right over where the scar used to be where she'd bitten him before.
She frowned and looked at him. "Where did that bite mark go?"
He shrugged and walked her to the bed. "Dunno. All my scars are gone."
She leaned back in his arms to look at his chest, which she had memorized. "Holy shit."
He chuckled and tossed her onto the bed, making her squeak a little. "You wanna see what other scars are gone?" he asked, waggling his eyebrows.
She laughed and rolled her eyes. "Corny, nerd," she said softly, then held her arms out to him. "Come here, Sam."
He fell onto her, and the feeling of his weight on her made tears prick the backs of her eyes. She pressed her face into his warm neck, breathing him in, letting the reality of him solidify in her mind.
He pulled away and kissed her softly, then feathered kisses across her cheeks and nose. "Did you miss me, beautiful?" he asked huskily.
She nodded and caught his mouth with hers again, trying to make sure she didn't cry on him.
He didn't seem to care about that, in true Sam fashion. He let one hand wander down to her knee, then ran it up until it was as high as it could go without actually touching her hot core. "Did you miss this?" he asked, moving to press his lips to her ear.
She gasped as he finally touched her, moving his thick middle finger through her folds slowly, making her arch her back and keen in want. "Yes," she gasped.
She felt him smile. "Good girl."
His finger was driving her crazy, and when he started toying with her clit, she began writhing in earnest, sinking her nails into his shoulders. "Sam, please."
"Hmm, good girl," he whispered, "Beg for me. I missed you begging for me."
He was sending her toward orgasm faster than she could have believed, and the words fell from her lips in a jumble. "Please, Sammy, oh God, I need you, please, Sam, fuck me, I need-"
"Shh, shh, I know, beautiful, I know. Come for me first, and I'll fuck you so fucking hard. Come on, baby, come for me."
She tilted her head back and screamed as pleasure shrieked through her, heat exploding in her middle. His fingers kept up their fast, insistent rhythm on her clit, pushing her past discomfort and making her pant with need again.
Being with Bella had always been… Nice. It had been like being wrapped in a warm blanket. Soft, warm, and comforting. Bella had been exactly what Chrys's soul had craved when Sam had been torn away from her.
But being with Sam was like being on fire. It was hot, fast, and urgent. His hands were hard where Bella's had been soft, he was rough where she had been gentle. Chrys had loved being with Bella, but right then she felt like she may actually die if Sam stopped touching her.
"Sam, please."
He leaned back and stood so he could strip his sweats off. She whimpered at the sight of him, her mouth watering. She twisted so she was up on her knees and pulled her tunic off over her head. She came down on her hands and knees, eyes intent on his big cock (had it always been that big? Jesus fuck), but his hands on her shoulders stopped her.
She looked up at him, a question behind her lips, but his big hand cupped her face and guided her up until he could kiss her again and she was standing on her knees. "Later, beautiful," he murmured against her lips. "I need you."
She nodded and twisted again so she could lie on her back. "Yes."
He fell onto her again and settled between her legs, pressing against her entrance. He put a big, gentle hand on her knee. "Wrap these gorgeous legs around me, baby."
She obeyed immediately, wrapping her arms around his neck at the same down so she could pull him down to kiss him again.
He kissed her slowly, thoroughly, familiarizing himself with her again, and her with him. The soft slide of their tongues moving together made her shudder and whimper. She moved her hips desperately, silently begging for him. He pulled away, denying her, and moved away from her mouth and started kissing gently down the line of her jaw.
Her breathing was ragged, and she noted with no small amount of satisfaction that his was, too. "Sam, Sammy, oh God, please, Sam, I can't anymore, please, please-"
He slowly sank into her, taking her breath away as he stretched her open. It was just this side of painful, and she craved it. The pain was what made it good. The pain had always been part of what made it good with Sam.
She tossed her head back with a shuddery sigh when he bottomed out. "Fuck!"
He pressed his lips against her ear again. "I'm going to fuck you, beautiful, I'm going to fuck you hard. If it gets to be too much, you let me know, understood?"
Knowing that she'd never say a word, she nodded. "Yes, sir."
He withdrew slowly, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek. "Good girl."
When he slammed back into her, she tilted her head back again and screamed. "Sam!"
He set a ridiculous, punishing pace. She kept her legs wrapped around him. It was a struggle, but it kept her just centered enough to keep from absolutely exploding as he drove into her over and over again.
"Sam!"
"Shh, I know," he whispered in a wrecked voice. "I want you to come again, okay? I want to see it again, can you do that for me?"
She nodded, helpless against him, always helpless against Sam. "Yeah, yeah, please."
He tilted his hips a little, dragging against her G-spot, making her scream again. "Sam!"
"That's one of my favorite sounds in the world," he husked into her ear, "you screaming my name."
She didn't have anything left in her but him, so she gave in to him again. "Sam!"
He snapped his hips forward just so, at just the right angle, and that combined with his heavy breathing and soft groans in her ear made her whole world go a bright, brilliant white as she imploded again.
"Sam!"
They spent the day in bed, relearning each other, fucking each other's brains out.
Chrys cried on and off, mostly after sex, sometimes during. Sam was gentle and loving, trying to heal her, knowing he couldn't.
In the early evening, they were too exhausted to move more than to eat the Chinese takeout Sam had ordered earlier.
"Get me a potsticker, Sam, they're on your side," she said softly. He watched as she struggled to keep her eyes open with a smile. They were sitting against the headboard, his arm around her shoulders.
"All right, hang on," he agreed. He leaned over to get the box, then turned back to her.
She was fast asleep, nestled under his arm, her head resting on his shoulder. He chuckled softly, put the box back down on the floor, and carefully took the rest of the food off of the bed. Then he gently rearranged them so they were lying down, her head still resting on his shoulder, him lying on his back.
"I love you, Chrys," he whispered.
"You, too," she murmured, almost too softly to hear.
Sam slept better than he had in recent memory.
**Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.
