This chapter contains M-rated content.

By the time the three reached the car, they were more than tired. Rachel was desperate for a shower and some sleep, her eyes heavy as Dean drove back to the Super 8.

At the motel, Dean flopped on his bed nearly as soon as he and Sam got back to their room. Sam took a quick shower and then grabbed his bag and left for Rachel's room, knowing Dean would likely go out when he woke anyway.

Sam knocked on her door, and Rachel answered, her hair in the process of being released from the bun she wore. "I'll be right back. I need a shower," she said, turning back around for the bathroom when Sam grabbed her from behind.

"Need a hand?" he asked into her ear.

"I'll be okay," she said with a laugh, suddenly a little less tired as she felt his member press against her.

"Damn."

"Raincheck?"

"Definitely."

A half hour later, Rachel emerged from the steamy bathroom, hair wet and dressed in only another of his plaid shirts hanging off her small frame over a set of silky navy blue panties. "Fuck," Sam growled. He pushed up from the bed, wearing only his lounge pants, and pressed her against the bathroom door. "I know we said raincheck, but you stole two of my shirts. Now you're just teasing me."

"I did," she smirked, shivering as his calloused fingertips skimmed under the shirt over her still-heated skin. She was tired, but her arousal seemed to wake her up a little.

"And you look sexy as hell in both of them. You realize that this is one of my favorites too, right?"

"I didn't."

"It is. So, what do you think we should do about this?"

"You can always take it back," she concluded, a smile playing over her lips. His large hands clenched her waist as he thrust against her.

"I plan to, little girl," he replied into her ear, his tongue darting over her neck. "And I plan to punish you for your crime."

"Yes, sir," she breathed, arching her back against the door as she felt his stiffness grind over her center. Sam drew in a deep, shaky breath, halting himself; she could tell he was reeling himself in, bottling his desire for her sake. "Don't be afraid of me," she said, tracing over his cheek as she looked into his eyes. They were nearly black with desire.

He swallowed. "I just … I don't want to …"

"I know." She stroked him. "But you won't."

"What if I do?"

"Then I'll tell you."

"Safe word?"

Rachel looked down at his bare chest. "I … I don't know. I've never …"

"It's okay," he assured. He cupped her cheek, tenderly stroking her face. "How about Yankees, for that damn sweatshirt I wanted to rip off of you the first time you wore it for me."

She blushed. "Okay." He shook his head. "Yes, sir," she corrected, loving the way his upper lip curled as she said it. Her lips parted as he sucked on her throat; she was sure to have a purple splotch there the next day.

He paused, panting into her shoulder. "Even if you do get scared, if you only remember one thing, remember that I love you." He couldn't help the gentle nip he gave her on her neck.

Sam's words shot straight to Rachel's core, an ache building as he explored her with his lips and tongue. Despite her insistence of not being controlled, she was more relaxed now than she had been in weeks. Though she never considered herself a submissive, his powerful affection was the perfect answer to her doubts.

Her hands rested on his stomach as his mouth ran over the gentle vibration in her throat, sliding across to the opposite side and suckling the delicate skin there. "You're mine, do you understand?" he asked as he parted from her neck, pressing his forehead against hers. She nodded. "Say it."

"I understand," she whispered with a shiver.

"Wrong."

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Whose are you?"

"Yours."

"That's right, baby girl. And you're mine to take care of. Mine to protect. Mine to love." He drew her earlobe into his mouth, tasting it. "So you'll listen to me, and only me. Not the voices in your head. Me. Okay?" She nodded. "No," he corrected. "Say it."

"Yes."

He smirked. "You northern girls always forget that last part." She saw the flush creep up on her cheeks, his pulse quickening from it.

"Yes, sir," she whispered, her eyes searching his.

"Good girl." He nuzzled her, knowing trustworthy command and direction and was what she craved, what she was missing in her life. And, if he was being honest, it was a definite turn-on for him. "Now, if you're ready and this is what you need, then I am more than willing to give you the safety of my control. But you need to submit to it when you need it. Can you do that?"

Rachel sucked in a shaky breath. "I think so."

"It's either yes or no," he reminded, drawing her even closer.

"... Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good." He pressed kisses to forehead and cheek, his warm breath flowing over her. "How do you feel?"

"Safe," she replied. And she did. Knowing he was in control eased her mind more than she knew possible.

"You should. And if at any time you don't, you are to tell me immediately. Okay?"

"Yes … sir."

He laughed, his mouth hovering over hers. "We'll work on that."

She blushed. "Okay."

He paused, eyeing her. She knew he was being playful despite his serious look. "Excuse me?"

"Yes, sir," she corrected with a laugh.

"Do you know the real reason why I'm making you say that?" he asked, pulling back to look into her eyes. She shook her head. "Because I need you to remember who will always steady you." He raked his fingers through her hair. "No matter how crazed you feel inside, how out of control things get in your head, I am your rock. When you need to, you submit to me and let me lead. Calling me 'sir' is not about a power trip, or about devaluing your worth. It's about you knowing that you can rely on me, knowing I am here for you, and you alone. My job is to keep you safe, to keep you balanced. I work for you. Your job is to let me do that, and you will show that you are by verbally submitting to me. Okay?"

"Yes, sir," she whispered, pressing her mouth to his. Sam grunted, attacking her lips as he gripped her hair at the roots.

"Goddamn," he growled, jumping when Rachel slid her hand over his hardened bulge.

She ached for Sam's touch. His dominance had soothed her, and she didn't want to lose the safety. "Please," she whispered, kissing his jawline.

His eyes rolled shut, her lips on his skin making him stir. "Please what?"

"Please be with me."

"So you just want me to hang out?" he teased as he looked down at her, taking hold of her head.

"No," she shuddered.

"Then tell me what you want, baby girl," he rasped. "I work for you, remember?"

"You," she said, trying to kiss his lips, but held back by Sam. "I want you."

He licked his lips as he examined her, more than heated as he took in her features. "We will take this slow," he whispered, rubbing his nose against hers.

"I need you, Sam," she whimpered.

"Let me be in control," he corrected sternly. "We will take this slow so it's not overwhelming, okay?"

"Yes, sir." She purposely drew out the words in a breathy tone, running her tongue across her bottom lip.

Sam gave her an open grin that melted her insides, his mouth curling up at the corner. "Keep it up, and you'll be in a lot of trouble."

"What kind of trouble?" she whispered, pressing her hips against his.

His breath hitched. "The kind that will get you doing research with me for days."

"Doesn't sound so bad." She rotated herself against him gently with a smirk, never feeling more comfortable, desired, and safe as she did in that moment. Somehow, Sam knew what she needed, and she ate it up like she had been starved of it before.

Sam growled, grabbing her waist and backing her up to the bed, her calves knocking into the mattress. He paused, catching his breath. "Slow," he said, mostly reminding himself. "We're taking this slow. Otherwise, I will lose my everloving mind." He kissed her languidly, his tongue snaking into her mouth as her hands roamed over his broad back. Her small fingers dipped down between his stomach and the elastic waist of his lounge pants that were already tented. He stopped her as he lifted her onto the bed, laying her gently down with a satisfied smile. "This is for you tonight, and for as long as I say. Not for me." He gently placed her hands above her head as he hovered over her, kissing her wrists. "These stay here, unless you want me to stop. What's the word you say if you do?"

"Yankees," she whispered.

"Good girl."

He peppered her with kisses, drinking in her coos as he tenderly doted on her. Everything about his touch was gentle, soft, with just the right undercurrent of control running through it. Sam peeled his shirt off of her, revealing her bare breasts. "Damn," he growled, his lips immediately latching on to one of her hardened nipples, his large hand working over the other. She arched up to him, her arms over her head and eyes shut as he made sure every inch of her breasts had been thoroughly explored and worshipped.

Sweat sheened his forehead ever so slightly as he looked up at her through his thick hair. "Are you okay?" he whispered, his hazel eyes searching for even a hint of distress.

She nodded. "I'm okay, Sam." As she reached out to stroke his cheek, he captured her hand, suckling on her wrist.

"No touching," he reminded.

"Yes, sir," Rachel smirked, lifting her hips up to his and rubbing against them, watching him squeeze his eyes shut as he grunted. His dominance was both soothing for her chaotic mind, and a good reminder of just how much control she had in being submissive to him. Though she would call him "sir," his weakness for her gave her just as much strength back, strength she desperately needed.

"That means these delicious hips of yours too," Sam said, moving further down her body until he was settled between her thighs, pinning her hips to the mattress as she barely held back her giggle. "Something funny, little girl?" he asked, a smirk on his lips as he ripped her dark blue satin panties in half.

It caught her by surprise. She gasped as Sam yanked out the pieces from under her and tossed them aside, his large hands gripping her backside and lifting her off the mattress enough for one to give her a gentle smack. She shivered, the sting of his hand soothed by his tender touch immediately after. Again, he spanked her, his mouth suckling her inner thigh. "Are you going to take my shirts again?" he asked.

Rachel bit back her moan as his fingers dug into her ass cheeks. "Yes," she whispered with a smile.

He grinned as she gasped from the smack he gave her on the other cheek. "Yes, what?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good girl. You'll wear my shirts to bed from now on, or nothing at all."

Rachel sucked in a shuddered gasp as Sam buried his tongue into her center. "Oh shit," she growled as he held her hips off the mattress, pressing his face deep into her. His long brown hair teased her inner thighs as he licked through her wet folds, his nose nudging her sensitive bud with a smirk as she bucked into his face.

One hand holding her hips up, his other moved to her entrance, two fingers slipping easily inside of her. "Fuck, Sam," she breathed, whimpering as he pumped into her, hitting her sensitive spot with each thrust. He felt her tighten around him ever so slightly.

"Don't come," he ordered after removing his tongue, his fingers still pumping.

Her eyes rounded at his challenge. "S-Sam, I—"

"Don't," he repeated, watching her chew her lip. "This is part of it all. You need to listen to me, even when your mind is telling you something different. You'll come when I let you."

She tried, but failed to calm her gasps as he scissored inside of her. "Please," she whimpered, a wanton cry filling his ears as she wriggled against his hand.

"Please what?"

"I need to come."

"You have to wait."

"Please, Sam," she begged, pressing her hips against his hand, desperate for friction.

"Don't come," he reminded her, feeling her walls clench his fingers.

"Fuck," she moaned. "I … I can't …"

"Whose are you, baby girl?" Sam asked gently, his tone far softer.

"Yours," Rachel whispered, her fingers clenched around the pillow under her head.

"That's right. You're mine. And I'm going to give you a good orgasm, but you need to trust me. Do you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good girl." Sam swiped his tongue across her opening, holding Rachel's hips still as she screamed.

"Sam, I can't," she shivered, eyes squeezed shut.

"Yes, you can," he replied against her inner thigh. "Just listen to me. Don't come." She panted as he curled his fingers in her. "You're doing so good, baby girl. So, so good." He licked over her opening, then dipped his tongue in as deep as he could go. Her thighs shook against his stubbled face as he quickened his thrusts, his tongue flicking over her bud. Sam looked up briefly from between her legs, seeing the sheen of sweat over her brow, the deep pink flush over her entire body, the tight clench of her fight. "Okay little girl," he whispered, kissing her inner thigh, "come for me."

All it took was two more thrusts, and she became a quivering, screaming mess in his hands, his name filling the room. He prolonged her climax as he ate her while she orgasmed, steadying her as she very slowly descended.

"Fuck, Sam," she panted, her body like rubber as he gently laid her back on the mattress. He grabbed his shirt she was wearing from the floor and a pair of panties from her bag, tenderly re-dressing her before climbing into bed next to her and drawing the sheet and blanket over them. He held her and stroked her as he watched the tremors run through her, spasms hitting her. He was grateful his arousal seemed to die down rather quickly with his exhaustion, though her moans made him twitch a bit.

"You owe me panties," she managed, trying to catch her breath.

Sam laughed, his dimples pronounced. "I'll buy you all the panties you want, baby girl." He pressed a kiss onto her cheek. "I love you," he whispered. "Thank you for trusting me."

Rachel lay exhausted on the bed, not even opening her eyes. "I love you," she said before she passed out.

Sam woke up stiffer than a board the next morning, which was pretty embarrassing. Luckily, Rachel was fast asleep, so he gave in and took care of himself in the shower, knowing he'd be unable to deal with it any other way. Despite the relief it brought, he was still itching for Rachel, but at least was slightly more able to function.

If he was being truthful, the idea of winging the whole dominant thing was a bit scary. Sure, he knew about BDSM, but he hadn't ever really delved into that arena sexually. At the most, he had tied up lovers, and had been tied up, but that was about it, other than the occasional spank he gave. It wasn't really about that, anyway. Still, he felt the pressure of trying to make sure she was satisfied without crossing a line. Whatever he did before seemed to work perfectly, so he just hoped he could maintain that balance and not screw things up even further.

With a heavy sigh, Sam pulled on a fresh tee shirt and looked down at Rachel, who was still out, a peaceful look on her face. He smiled, glancing at his cell phone, seeing a missed call from Jody. He picked it up and pressed the call-back, pacing out of the motel room after pocketing the key, waiting for her to pick up.

"Sam Winchester," Jody scolded with a huff, "how long does it take you two to salt and burn some damn bones?"

Sam laughed, looking over the balcony at the bright morning light that bathed the scene. "Sorry, Jody. I, uh, was a little preoccupied when we got back last night."

"Is that what they call it these days? Well, at least you're not entirely thick in the head."

"Thanks ...?" His brow raised.

"I assume you torched whoever the poltergeist was?"

"Yep. All taken care of. We'll be heading back to Lebanon today."

Jody exhaled deeply. "I know you'll take care of her, but Sam, that girl is beyond broken. She'll need your patience."

Sam smiled softly. "That'll be easy for me. I love her."

He could practically see Jody gushing over the phone. "Well, it's about damn time one of you boys settled down. Now if we could get your brother to plant some roots …"

"The world would likely end—for real," Sam teased.

"You'd better invite me to the wedding."

Sam felt his cheeks heat up. He cleared his throat. "Um, that's … uh … we … she …"

"Oh for goodness sake, don't hurt yourself," Jody sighed. "And don't be stupid again."

"Yes, ma'am."

"And Samuel?"

"Yes ma'am?"

"We'll find a way for her, if she needs one," Jody assured him, her tone shifting.

"Thanks," he said, taking a deep breath. "I've got to go, but if my girlfriend tries to run away from me again because she thinks she's a burden, would you please tell her that I'm insane about her and that I'll hunt her down wherever she goes?"

Jody laughed. "Yes, I will. Be safe."

"You too, Jody."

Sam hung up with a smile, glancing at his watch. He knew check out was coming up soon. He tucked his phone into his pocket, unlocking the door and shutting it behind himself. "Baby girl," he said gently, setting the key down on the small table next to the door. He turned to her and smiled, seeing her eyes open from across the room. "We've got check out in a bit, sweetheart."

When Rachel didn't move, his brow furrowed. Her eyes remained wide, her lip quivering as he moved to her. "Rachel?" he asked. Ice flooded his veins when he smelled a particular scent he was unfortunately all too familiar with—fresh blood.

"Yankees," she mouthed.