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Well, I'll give it my best shot.

[Prim and proper Sam. Closed and stiff. Always so serious.

It's so boring.

Good thing that guy is dead.

He grins and pulls her closer, leaning down to press his lips to her ear and gently bite before he speaks.]

Public dancing or private room dancing?

[ Well, he doesn't hold back, does he? She can't help but grin when he pulls her in tight, towering a good foot over her even in her heeled boots.

A shiver runs down her spine at the graze of teeth over her earlobe, and she starts to back them away from the crowd and towards the back wall. ]

Dealer's choice. But I've got a feeling I know the answer.

I think you do, too.

[Private room it is. Protected by a shimmering silver curtain mostly drawn closed where they can sit and trade the bottle. Sara first, then Sam, who swallows and busies himself with a hand at her hip across her lap and his nose in her neck. Then break back and move in for a hungry, deep kiss full of promise and intention.

He wants her. Terribly. But the lead up can be just as fun and he intends to get every little moment of pleasure he can.]

[ Well, they're both about as subtle as a gun. She's enjoying it, though. The ease of it, the thrill. Nothing but a bit of fabric separating them from the rest of the club.

She's had enough whiskey for a good buzz, tingling at her fingertips, warm in the pit of her stomach as she leans easily into Sam's arms. Tiptoeing up to meet his kiss, she drags her tongue against his, reaching out to start unbuttoning his shirt.

Why waste time, right? ]

[Not when time is so fleeting. In a week or two Sam will be free of this human form and chained down to the floor of a basement panic room. Better make the most of this, right?

Sam helps by shedding his jacket to the floor before moving to do the same for Sara. Shirt too if she'll let him. He likes that she knows what he's after and is just as game for it. Straight to the point like an arrow. He respects that.

And he doesn't respect many.

Sara's lips are silken against his own and he can feel the soft tickle of her breath beneath his nose, fingers carding through her hair as they breathe each other in between breaks. Sam wonders, as his teeth graze with claim across her bottom lip, if Sara kisses how she fights, direct but elegant. He wonders, with his hand to her breast, aching to rip her bra in shreds off her body, if she fucks that way, too.]

[ Well. She doesn't know time is quite that fleeting, but in a place like this, you never really know what's in store for the future.

Both their jackets hit the floor with a heavy clunk - proof of various weapons stashed inside them, surely - before the shirts follow. The small talk had been sufficient enough, she thinks. Hell, she's never been the patient type anyway, and she'd known at first glance that he wasn't, either. Not when he'd spent the bulk of the night undressing her with his eyes.

His kiss is dizzying. Overwhelming. He doesn't hold back for a moment and it leaves her breathless, flushed and so damn eager for more. He tastes of whiskey and smells like gunpowder, and it's not long before her hands wander down to start unbuckling his belt. ]

Y'dance good.

[Sam smiles against her lips, purring an affirmative in response and tilting his hips forward in invitation. Jeans already far too tight.]

So do you.

[This sort of dance is far preferred to a room of writhing bodies crushing in all around him. It's too claustrophobic, and while he doesn't feel fear it would leave him open to ambush. Just the way it goes.

This is better. This, as he tugs her bra out of the way and kisses his way down her throat and chest with a low, feral growl. He wants that breast in his mouth, his tongue against her nipple, the taste of her skin in his mouth.]

[ Just that little tilt of his hips and her hand slips down to grip him through his jeans, an impish grin on her lips before she cranes her neck up to nip at his lower lip.

Oh, shit. She cocks a brow at the weight of him, the way he strains against her hand.

Yup. This is much, much better than anything they could be doing out there. She arches her back into the scrape of his mouth, the stubble on his jaw along with that growl sending shivers down her spine. The slick of his tongue against her breast has her nipples hard in an instant, her hands fumbling to tug his belt loose and unbutton his fly. ]

[Good, get them off. Get them open and off, boxers too, hitting the floor with a whump so he can step out of them. Sam breaks back to do so, naked except his steel toed boots like nature intended. The tattoo on Sam's chest, a bold, sunbeamed pentagram lays stark on his broad chest alongside years of battle scars documenting his history of near.. and not so near misses.

He watches Sara with a primal hunger he's been repressing for years and hooks his finger into her waistband.]

Take it off.

[A gentle command but there lies under it a follow up that he will if she won't and those clothes won't be wearable again. Besides, he wants to watch her.]

All of it.

[ She takes a long moment to let her gaze drag slowly over his body - the planes of muscle, the scars, the tattoo - before settling on the very generous erection that's already making her ache.

Her own body's littered with a vast array of scars. She's pale skin and lean muscle and soft curves, petite up against him and stripped down to her underwear.

Attention snapping back up to meet his gaze, she grins and backs up a few steps, unhooking her bra and tossing it to the floor. ]

Better say please. [ Even if she's already unbuttoning her jeans and toeing off her boots. ]

Funny, [Smiling as he watches her, a deep curl of pleasure burning in his belly as he gets his way.

He does so enjoy getting his way.

Sam can be a very intense person. In moments like this he is especially laser focused. Especially feral.]

That's the word I'm gonna make you scream.

[ She can see it in his eyes. The darkness in them, the desire. Intense and hungry in ways that'd be downright scary, if Sara wasn't lethal enough on her own.

As it stands, she can be just as intense. Just as hungry. And right now, he's being a very, very bad influence.

She turns to give him a view of her ass as she bends to tug her pants down her legs, stepping out of them and removing her socks before kicking it all over to the side. She's bare for him now, turning back around to face him, her own gaze dragging over his body as she waits patiently for his move. ]

That sure as hell better be a promise.

I think you know it is.

[One promise he intends to keep as he closes the space between them and presses her up against the wall. Sam doesn't waste time, he moves in and slides his hand down the plane of her body, left breast first, with claim, before moving down over his ribs and hip to find a home between her legs.

Sam's touch is firm but considered. His fingers are hardened from a life of fighting but no less long and elegant, seeking soft, wet heat.

Seeking a gasp from Sarah's plush, pink lips that he can catch and claim with his own as he does so. Lead the way he means to follow with his cock pressed into her hip.]

[ He pounces on her like prey, pinning her up against the wall, towering over her and dragging his hands over her skin possessively. And damnit, she likes it. Likes the precision in his grasp, the deftness of his fingers despite his size and bulk.

The touch gets a soft hiss from her lips, her eyelids fluttering shut as she tips her head up to receive that kiss. Dragging her teeth over his lower lip, she reaches out to wrap a fist around his cock and drags her palm up and down his length, cursing out a breath against his lips. ]

Gotta earn it, Winchester. [ She mutters, as if his fingers aren't already finding her slick and ready, as if she isn't shuddering with the pleasure of it. It occurs to her, fleetingly, that she doesn't even know his first name. Just Winchester. A brother named Dean. Had he mentioned his name? ]

[Doesn't matter, the effect is the same. If you're a good girl he'll let you pull his hair.

Sam growls in response and nudges his foot against Sara's to widen her stance. They're standing, so this isn't as easy as it would be in bed, but this unnamed Winchester likes a challenge.

The goal at the moment is to get his hand in such a way that he can slip inside her body and slick his wet fingers over her clit with each back drag. Slow and rhythmic as they kiss and bite and devour each other. His free hand at her nipple, pebbled under his touch which he plays and teases, seeing just what she might be into. How kinky she really is.

He wants to work her up needy and trembling. He wants to push her right to the brink but hold back just that little bit. Sara wants him to earn it, fine. It just means a long, slow torture for her.

Sam is, despite it all, a considerate psychopath. And when he's good and ready, and she's good and needy, that's when he'll sink to his knees. That's when he'll fill her full with his fingers and replace the attention to her most sensitive part with his tongue. Hot and wet and hungry. ]

[ She can be good. Ish. Good enough to pull his hair, anyway.

He'll find she's particularly sensitive to that tease to her clit - shuddering, grasping at him with her free hand for balance even as she continues to work his cock in her hand. In some ways, he's wild and feral, and in others so damn cool and calculated - knowing exactly where to touch her, tease her, make her dizzy with need and squirm with desire.

She can be a damn tease, too. Hand slipping down to massage at his balls, then back up to drag her palm up and down his length. Skim her fingertips over the head of his cock, pet her thumb over it a few times to tease the precome from him.

But Christ, he makes it hard to concentrate. The way he's working that slow heat within her, teasing her just enough before pulling back, earning a sharp hiss or a groan of frustration before she squeezes his cock in retaliation.

And maybe she wasn't expecting him to go down on her this quickly. Guys like him know how to take, but giving's a hell of a point in his favor. Her jaw drops and she buries a hand in his hair, shifting a knee up against his shoulder to give him more room to work. ]

Fuck- [ Her eyes flutter closed and she shivers at the slick tease of his tongue on her clit, the way his thick fingers thrust in and out of her with lewd, wet sounds that fill the small room around them. Brow furrowing, she lets out a breath, a choked cry, damn near ready to lose herself grinding into the heat of his mouth. ]

[Sam growls low against her as he works, the hand in his hair sending a shiver down his spine in a way he hasn't felt for a long time. For a moment he is somewhere far away with a different woman. Nothing against Sara, but Ruby has always lived rent free at the edge of Sam's mind and sex like this brings her back to him, even when it shouldn't.

One supposes that's what happens when you go to bed with a demon. They hook their claws in deep and don't let go, even after they're long dead.

He pushes the thought away and re-anchors himself to the here and now. To Sara and this little room and the music on the other side of the curtain. On the idea that someone could peek at any second and what a show they'd find.

Sam is so hard he could scream, aching and leaking and tightly wound but knowing the wait will be well worth it. He wants to bring Sara off and this is the most effective way. A fun, pleasurable transaction. No strings attached.

But once he does? Once she gets there and she's undone around him? Those fingers will leave it will be his turn. ]

[ That little growl feels like it vibrates completely through her. Buzzes along her skin and penetrates deep into her core, the talent of his tongue and the suction of his lips driving her dizzy with lust.

And it doesn't matter where his mind is. Doesn't matter that they barely know each other, that she doesn't even remember if he's told her his first name. All that matters is he not- fucking- stop, because she's grinding hard into the press of his mouth, tugging a handful of his hair as she feels herself hurtle towards the edge.

There's a sudden tension, a fleeting stillness in her before finally, she's there. Spasming, bucking in his hold, sighs and cries filling the room as she loses herself, the pleasure white hot behind her eyes until she's a shaking, panting, shuddering mess.

Every inch of her skin is buzzing as she comes down, the force of it heady and leaving her dazed. She manages to get her feet underneath her, grasping sloppily at him to get to his feet. ]

You want my mouth or my cunt?

Cunt.

[Decisive as he holds her hip. Sam is strong and Sara is slight, it's nothing for him to pick her up against the wall and hold there with one arm and pressure. To put her legs around his hips tangle his free, wet hand into her hair with the kind of immediate grip that would be considered violence in another situation.]

That's a filthy fuckin' mouth you've got.

[And it brings out an ugliness he's never uttered aloud before. His mouth at her throat as he shoves up and sinks right in to the sopping mess he's made. Sam Winchester doesn't make love. He fucks. Like an animal. Like he's her master. He's paid his dues, now he demands it without negotiation.]

You're such a good little slut for me, Sara.

[ She'd figured as much, but it's fucking great to hear him say it. His large hands dwarf the slim curve of her hips, and he picks her up like she's a paperweight before pinning her to the wall. If he's too rough, she doesn't seem to mind - seems to like it, actually, grasping hard at his shoulders, nipping sharply at his lip and down his jaw. ]

You fucking love it.

[ She grins, humming a laugh against his skin before finally, finally he's inside her. Fills her completely, sending an ache through her that curls at her toes and shivers up her spine. She lets out a sharp yelp - a mix of pain and pleasure at the size of him - her teeth digging hard into the base of his neck. If he wants rough, he'll get it. She bucks her hips into him, their bodies meeting with lewd, wet smacks as her nails dig into his shoulders. ]

Yeah- ah, yeah- Holy fuck, you're big-

[Were Sam himself he would stop and kiss butterfly apologies and make sure she's okay. Were he himself he would ease slowly and make sure she was comfortable before fucking like he was aiming to breed.

But he isn't. And he doesn't care. What he cares about is systematically taking this woman apart with his cock until she's a mewling mess begging for more on legs that no longer support her weight.]

You fucking like it.

[Answering like for like, hissing at her nails carving half moons into his skin as he sets a deep, claiming rhythm. There's no romantic symphony, just the cacophony of their gasps and growls and her wet pussy around him.]

Say it for me.

[ For all she knows, this is just how he is. Straight to the point, strong and possessive and too fucking good at getting what he wants. Sara doesn't need sweet and fluffy and romantic. She doesn't need candlelight or small talk or to know how many siblings he has. What she wants - what she needs - is all he's giving to her now. Relentless, feral, sending searing pleasure through every nerve in her body until she's holding on for dear life.

Yeah. She fucking likes it. That much is evident by the red scratch marks she's left on his skin, by the hickey forming at the base of his neck, by how damn wet she is and how loud her moans are getting with every rut of his hips to hers.

And yes, she knows what he wants to hear. But she's still gonna make him work for it. ]

Say - unh - say what? [ Said with a grin muffled against his shoulder, said even as she hisses a sigh of pleasure. ]

[Uhhuh, no, denied. He isn't playing this game.

Sam huffs a mirthless half laugh and answers but curling his hand into her hair ever tighter.]

I said fucking say it, slut.

[Illustrating his point with a merciless, hard thrust into her.]

[ The rough tug at her hair sends a shiver down her spine, and she hisses again at the thrust he gives her, at the sharp pain that aches so deeply at her core. ]

Harder.

[ The glint in her eyes is a challenge - one she knows he'll damn well accept. ]

[How dare we immortalize my typo.

Sara knows exactly how to answer and that is almost better than hearing her say the words he's requesting.]

That's right. Beg.

But he'll rise to the challenge regardless. If only there was more room in here he'd get her her knees and send her back with some lovely rug burns.]

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I love that our icons match up

yesssss perfection

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