Summary: Neither you nor Sam have souls... and you like it.

Sam moans loudly as you ride his cock mercilessly. He fists your hair, bringing your head back to attack your neck with bites and hickies. His other arm is circling your waist in a bruising embrace. You're bouncing happily in his lap, tits shaking with the movement. There's a slight pain from the way your ass smacks with his thighs, but it only helps to wet your cunt even more.

Under any normal circumstances, you'd never sleep with Sam Winchester, the know-it-all hunter you've known for five years. You hated him back then, you loathed the way he would speak to you like you were dumb. These aren't precisely normal circumstances. After you and Sam went to hell and came back thanks to Castiel, you have been feeling a little off, like something is missing inside of you. Every feeling is gone from you, even your hate for Sam. Now you have a thirst that cannot be quenched easily. Sam is one of the little things that can fill the emptiness inside of you. Even if it's by having rough sex.

"Yeah, just like that baby." His rough voice resonates in the dirty motel room, followed by a groan. You're pretty sure whoever is staying in the adjacent rooms heard that. Not that you care. "You're such a dirty little slut, aren't you?" He murmurs in your ear. "You love having my dick buried inside you, don't you?" Your only response is your walls clenching around his width. "Answer me!" His hand comes to rest in your throat, squeezing probably more than he should.

"Yes! Yes!" At your eager response, his lips clash with yours fervently. Maybe there is something wrong with you, but why does this feel so right?