Written by: KariGorsuch

I followed Sam up the narrow staircase, my boots echoing softly on the worn carpet. As we reached the recond floor, the hallway felt even quieter, the air stale with the scent of old carpet and cigarettes. Sam led the way down the hall, stopping at room 214. He unlocked the door, pushing it open with a soft creak.

The room was small, the kind you'd expect from a roadside motel. A single bed sat against one wall, covered with a faded floral comforter. The walls were cracked in places, and the old certains didn't quite close all the way, leaving a sliver of light from the parking lot outside. The only other furniture was a chipped wooden dresser and a small desk, its surface sluttered with the phone, notepad, and cheap coffee maker.

Sam dropped the key on the desk and walked over to the bed, sitting on the edge. His posture was stiff, but he didn't seem ready to rest just yet. I stood in the doorway for a moment, unsure whether to speak or just take a seat beside him.

"Do you want to talk?" Sam asked, his voice low but sincere.

I hesitated, my hand still resting on the doorframe as I stared at the worn carpet beneath my boots. The air in the room felt heavy, filled with all the unspoken things between us. A part of me wanted to just collapse onto the bed and forget everything, but I knew it wouldn't make anything go away.

"No," I finally said, my voice quieter than I intended. I pushed the door closed behind me and walked over to the bed, setting down my bag. "Not yet."

Sam didn't push. He just sat there, the weight of everything settling in the space between us. I could feel his eyes on me, but I kept my back to him, pretending that I wasn't aware of how close he was, of how the silence in the room seemed to stretch just a little too far.

"I'm gonna..." I shifted, looking over my shoulder at him, "go shower."

Sam gave a quick nod, his gaze softening for a moment. "Yeah, sure. Take your time."

He didn't ask for details, didn't try to push for conversation. Instead, he stayed where he was, respecting the space I needed.

I walked toward the bathroom, the soft click of the door shutting behind me feeling oddly final. The water was warm, comforting, as if it could wash away at least some of the heaviness that had settled into my bones. I didn't know how long I stood there under the spray, but eventually I turned off the tap, the silence in the room feeling a little less suffocating when I stepped back out.

Wrapping a towel around my torso, I returned to the main room. Sam was sitting in the desk chair, his boots placed neatly under the desk and his jacket draped over the chair. He glanced up as I entered, his eyes tracing the shape of my body under the towel before lingering on my bare legs.

Sam quickly looked away, his face flushing slightly as he cleared his throat. He shifted uncomfortably in the chair, trying to act casual but the tension in the room was palpable.

"Sorry," he mumbled, his voice rough. "I didn't mean to—"

I shot him a quick, reassuring glance, silently telling him it was fine. I grabbed a shirt from my bag and pulled it on, noticing at the last moment that it was his shirt. "It's okay, Sam."

Sam's gaze flickered over me again, and I saw his posture shift- he was definitely aware of the moment. His eyes quickly darted away, and a flush crept up his neck as he cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Right... sorry,"he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck, his voice a little strained. "I didn't mean to make you feel weird."

I shook my head, still sorting through my things. "Sam, you're not making me uncomfortable."

There was a brief silence before he sighed, standing up, "Bri-

I turned, noting he was standing a few steps away. "Sam..."

I could see the hesitation in Sam's eyes, the way his jaw tightened as if he was trying to figure out the right words. He shifted on his feet, clearly caught between wanting to say something and not wanting to push me farther.

I swallowed, my pulse quickening as the air between us seemed to thicken, heavy with things unsaid. "Sam.." I started, my voice softer than I intended.

His gaze snapped to mine, the resolve in his eyes making me take a half step back. The bathroom wall brushed my back, my pulse pounding in my ears.

"Bri," Sam said again, slowly stepping forward. "If you don't want this, tell me no."

I stood frozen, the space between us electric, the weight of his words settling like a lead blanket over my chest. His eyes were searching mine, waiting for a response that I wasn't sure I had. I swallowed hard, trying to steady myself as I felt my heartbeat thrum louder in my chest.

"Sam," I whispered, my voice trembling slightly. My mind was a mess, caught between everything I wanted and everything I was too scared to admit. He was giving me a choice, but it didn't feel like a choice at all. It felt like a lifeline. The words finally tumbled out, terrifying and honest. "I don't want to say no."

Sam's expression softened, and for a moment, he didn't say anything. He just stood there, his eyes never leaving mine. Then, ever so slowly, he reached out, his hand hovering near mine. His voice was low, almost a whisper.

"I'm not going to rush you, Bri. I won't... not unless you want me to."

I exhaled, the tension in my body loosening just a little. "I do," I said, my voice barely audible, but firm enough for him to hear.

Without another word, Sam closed the distance between us, his hand finally resting gently against my cheek. His thumb brushed across my skin, and I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. The space between us seemed to disappear entirely, and it felt like everything else—the weight of the world, the fear, the guilt, the uncertainty—faded away.

When his lips met mine, it was slow, tentative, as if he were waiting for me to pull away. But I didn't. I didn't want to.

Sam's hand cupped my face, his thumb gently brushing my jaw, as though he was trying to memorize the feel of me. The kiss deepened slowly, carefully, like we were both testing the waters, unsure where this path might lead but unwilling to turn back. I could feel his breath warm against my lips, his chest brushing mine as he stepped a little closer, closing the last bit of space between us.

He exhaled slowly, his hand sliding to the back of my neck as he gently pulled me back toward him, his lips meeting mine once more, this time with more urgency, more certainty. The shift was subtle at first, but the change in the intensity of his kiss was unmistakable. His hand on the back of my neck pulled me closer, his other hand resting on my waist, fingers brushing over the soft fabric of his shirt.

I responded without thinking, my hands moving to his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath the fabric of his shirt. The kiss deepened, sending heat racing down my spine to settle low in my stomach.

I pulled back slightly, my chest rising and falling with quick breaths, my heart racing. Sam's forehead rested against mine, his eyes closed, as if trying to steady himself.

"Are you okay?" He asked, his voice rough. "If you need me to slow down, to stop-"

I shook my head, my fingers tracing the line of his jaw, feeling the tension in his muscles as he held back. "I'm fine, Sam," I whispered, brushing my lips across the underside of his jaw.

Sam's breath hitched at the soft brush of my lips, and I felt his body tense under my touch, like he was fighting a battle inside himself. His hands slid down to my waist before he squatted down, wrapped his hands around my thighs and picked me up.

My breath caught as Sam lifted me, his movements purposeful and controlled. The ease of which he picked me up sent a wave of heat through my body. His strength was reassuring, grounding me, and I instinctively wrapped my legs around his waist as he stood, holding me effortlessly against him.

My hands instinctively slid to his shoulders, my fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt as he pushed my back into the wall more firmly, bracing me between his chest and the wall for a moment as he readjusted his hands to my ass. His breath hitched, hands flexing. "Did you not put anything else on?"

I felt a flush rise to my cheeks at his question, but I didn't look away, meeting his gaze directly. There was a playfulness in his voice, mixed with a hint of something deeper. I smirked, my fingers still trailing over the fabric of his shirt.

"I was planning on it," I replied, my voice low and teasing. Sam's eyes darkened, but there was a flicker of amusement in them. He gave me a slow, almost unreadable smile before leaning in closer, his lips brushing against my ear.

"Bri," he whispered, his voice rough, "I'm not complaining."

I swallowed, heat rushing through my veins to settle low in my abdomen. Sam's words sent a shiver through me, his voice low and filled with a rough edge that made my voice hitch.

The way he looked at me- like I was the only thing that mattered in the moment- was enough to make my heart race even faster.

I shifted slightly against him, my core dragging deliciously over the front of his jeans and my fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt as I tried to steady myself. "You better not be," I managed to say, though my voice was quieter, breathier than I'd intended.

Sam chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against me as he pressed his forehead to mine. For a brief moment, the intensity softened, his lips brushing lightly against my cheek before trailing down to the curve of my jaw. Each tough sent a spark of warmth through me, a contrast to the coolness of the wall at my back.

"You're gonna be the death of me, Bri," he murmured, his lips barely grazing my skin as he spoke.

His eyes met mine again, and for a second, the teasing, the heat- it all fell away, replaced by something deeper, something raw. The way he looked at me then, like I was both the calm and the storm, stole the breath from my lungs.

"Tell me if I need to stop," he said, his voice quiet but firm, the weight of his words cutting through the haze between us.

"Don't you dare stop, Sam Winchester."

At my words, Sam pulled away from the wall, supporting me with just his hands. His movements were deliberate, almost reverent, as he lowered me onto the bed. His hands never faltered, their strength and steadiness a sharp contrast to the storm brewing in his eyes. The mattress dipped under my weight, the faint creak of the springs the only sound in the room besides our uneven breaths.

He hovered over me, his gaze locked on mine, searching, asking questions he didn't voice. I reached up, my fingers brushing along his jawline, silently answering. "I'm right here," I whispered, the words a promise, and invitation.

Sam exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly, but the fire in his eyes didn't dim. His lips found mine again, slow and deliberate, as though he wanted to savor every second. The weight of his body against mine was grounding, reassuring, and the intensity of the moment sent a shiver down my spine.

His hand slipped up my side, the warmth of his touch searing through the thin fabric of the borrowed shirt. He paused for a moment, his forehead resting against mine as his breath fanned across my skin. "You're sure about this?" He murmured, his voice barely audible, laced with both hesitation and desire.

I nodded, my hands slipping from the back of his neck, tracing the hard planes of the muscle in his back before landing at his hips. Teasing my hands under his shirt, I trailed them up the length of his back, dragging my nails back down.

Sam inhaled sharply, the tension in his body rippling under my touch. His muscles flexed beneath my fingers, his hand tightened its grip on my waist as if grounding himself. He lowered his head, his lips brushing against my neck, slow and deliberate, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down my spine.

His lips lingered against the curve of my neck, his pace torturously slow. I plucked at the hem of his shirt, tugging gently at it. Sam chuckled softly against my neck, the low sounds sending vibrations through my skin. "Impatient?" he murmured, his voice teasing, but there was a rough edge that betrayed his own restraint.

"Maybe," I breathed, tilting my head slightly, giving him better access as his lips trailed up to the spot just beneath my ear. My fingers curled into the hem of his shirt again, tugging more insistently this time. "It's only fair."

Sam leaned back slightly, just enough to look at me, his eyes dark and full of heat. "Fair, huh?" he asked, a crooked smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Without breaking eye contact, he reached behind his head and pulled his shirt off in one smooth motion, tossing it aside. Making quick work of his belt, he shoved his jeans and boxers down, stepping out of them.

I let out a soft moan, my eyes shamelessly roaming over him.

Sam froze for just a moment, his eyes flicking to mine as if gauging my reaction. The crooked smile he wore softened slightly, a mix of confidence, vulnerability, and heat crossing his features as he stood there, unguarded.

He crawled back up the bed, leaning most of his weight on one hand while the other returned to my hip. Sam's touch was firm but careful, his hand warm against my skin as his fingers splayed over my thigh, sending a ripple of heat through me.

My hands instinctively found their way back onto his chest, stroking patterns into the lines of muscle. Sam's touch was electric, his hand slighting slowly over my thigh, his fingers brushing against my skin in a way that sent a shiver racing through me. His hand moved with a purpose, trailing a burning path from my thigh, pausing on my bare hip as if to confirm there was no other layer of clothing there, before pushing higher to stop on my ribs.

Tracing that same burning path back to my thigh, his hand wrapped around it, only to pull it up over his hip. My eyes flashed to his, and the intensity in Sam's gaze sent a fresh wave of heat through me. His dark eyes held mine, a mixture of hunger and restraint swirling in them, as though he was both savoring the moment and holding himself back.

Sam's breathing was uneven, his chest rising and falling in rhythm with mine as his fingers gripped my thigh firmly, holding me against him.

"Tell me you want this," he demanded, his voice trembling with want and desire.

I didn't hesitate, reaching up with one hand to cup his cheek, the other creeping up his ribs to wrap as far around his shoulders as I could reach. "I want this," I whispered, tugging him down to me. "I want you."

Sam groaned softly, the sound rumbling in his chest as he let himself sink closer, his weight pressing into me just enough to make my breath hitch. His hand on my thigh stayed firm, keeping me anchored to him, while his hips began a slow push into mine.

He leaned in, capturing my lips in a searing kiss, muffling the moan that escaped from my mouth as his hips paused, pressed firmly to mine.

My hand slid from his cheek to his shoulders, pulling him closer, feeling the tension in his muscles as he moved. Every deliberate roll of his hips sent a ripple of heat through me, and I couldn't help the soft sounds that escaped my lips.

I frowned slightly when he pulled away, just slightly, his forehead resting against mine, breaths coming in shallow gasps. His gaze locked onto mine, his eyes dark and searching, as if he needed the confirmation.

I slid my hands down his back, thigh tightening around his hip, unwilling to let the moment slip away. Stretching up, I pressed a soft kiss to the underside of his jaw.

Sam's breath hitched at the press of my lips against his jaw, and the low growl that followed sent a thrill racing through me. The slow rhythm faltered, his control slipping as his breathing grew heavier. The deliberate pace gave way to something more urgent, more primal, as the tension that had been simmering between us boiled over. His grip on my waist tightened, his fingertips pressing into my skin as his hips snapped forward, harder, more insistent, chasing the heat that blazed between us.

I gasped, my head tilting back against the pillow as the force of him consumed me. My hands roamed his back, nails dragging down his skin, leaving faint red trails in their wake. He groaned at the sensation, the sound low and rough, vibrating through both of us like a live wire.

"Bri," Sam groaned, his voice raw and unrestrained, the sound of it vibrating against my neck as his body moved with an intensity that matched the storm building inside me. The heat between us reached a fever pitch, like a wildfire consuming everything in its path, unstoppable and all-encompassing.

I clung to him, my hands fisting into the muscles of his back, nails biting into his skin as I arched off the bed, pressing into him with every ounce of need coursing through me. The pressure building between us finally erupted, a wave of heat and electricity that shot through me, leaving my entire body trembling in its wake.

"Sam," I gasped, my voice breaking as the overwhelming sensation rolled through me, every nerve alight and singing with the connection we shared. His grip on me tightened, his movements faltering as he chased the edge of his own release, the sound of my name on his lips like a prayer and a promise all at once.

He buried his face against my shoulder, his breath hot and ragged against my skin as he shuddered, his body going taut before melting into mine. The room was silent save for the sound of our breathing, both of us caught in the aftermath of something that felt bigger than ourselves, something neither of us could put into words.

Sam pressed a kiss to my shoulder, soft and lingering, as though grounding himself back in the moment. His weight was solid and comforting as he rested against me, his hand brushing over my side in slow, soothing motions. I turned my head, catching his gaze, and the intensity in his eyes—tender and unguarded—made my breath catch all over again.

"Bri," he said quietly, his voice low and full of something I couldn't quite name. "Are you okay?"

"I'm perfect," I murmured, tracing faint lines on his back. Sam's lips quirked into a small, crooked smile, and he shifted his weight slightly, pulling me against him as he rolled his weight off of me, settling next to me. I couldn't help the small pout that crossed my face.

Sam caught the pout and chuckled softly, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from my face. "Don't look at me like that," he teased, his voice low and warm. "I'm not going anywhere."

His words sent a flutter through my chest, and I relaxed against him.

Sam's arm around me was a safe, steady anchor, and I let myself sink into it, closing my eyes for a moment, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat against my back. His fingers traced lazy patterns on my arm, the touch both gentle and possessive, as if he was grounding himself as much as I was.

"Good," I whispered, my voice soft, almost like a confession. "Because I'm not ready to let go yet."

Sam didn't answer immediately, but I could feel the shift in him as his hand moved to my waist, pulling me closer. His chest pressed against my back, the warmth of him comforting in the stillness of the room.