Summary: Alex, a rudimentary hunter, gets herself into trouble and Sam gives her a piece of his… mind.
Characters: Sam Winchester, Alex
**Warnings: Smut, smut and more smut. Oh and language. **
A/N: My first fanfic. I kinda got tired of the Y/N trend (it kinda breaks up the story, IMO). But I hope this revs some engines and grabs some followers! Comments/reposts/likes are welcome!
Alex had proved herself useful to the Winchesters. A nest of vamps had them surrounded and Alex, in a valiant effort, led them away to her house nearby, where the overzealous older Winchester burned it to the ground. After some deliberate (and a round of guilt tripping), the boys invited you a spot at the bunker. They were pretty elusive about the location of your new home, blindfolding her for security (which, she found hot as hell). A few weeks had gone by and she was getting stir crazy. Dean left the bunker to check out a potential case a few hours away and Alex felt this was her chance to stretch her legs. She’d discovered a spirit terrorizing a couple and their baby and upon some research, discovered the baby was in danger. The photo of Abigail Breelan was on the screen. It was almost 90 years old, but even in the black and white, Alex could tell she was beautiful. Her husband worked in the old mines, often leaving her alone with her newborn baby. However, he was unaware that she was suffering from postpartum disease, causing her to drown her baby during one of her fits. In light of her agony, she slit her wrists. Two other children had been taken in the timeline of the house. “It’s thin…” Alex muttered to herself, but she packed her gear anyway and crept out. The ride was short and the house was quiet and dark by the time she had arrived.
Soon after she arrived, she could hear the screaming. The lights in the house began flashing on and and off and she could hear a wailing that hurt her ears. Armed with her salt shells for her shotgun and her iron crowbar, Alex stormed into the house. The father lay unconscious in the dining room, bleeding profusely from his head. Alex ran into the living room where the mother held her baby, screaming and crying. In the corner stood the ghostly visage of Abigail Breelan, who was creating a vortex around Mother and Child. “She’s mine!” The ghost wailed, flinging furniture and knick knacks into the back of the mother, who screamed at the pain. Alex raised the shotgun and fired, the salt disrupting the ghost’s ionization. All of the free-floating objects crashed onto the floor. “You have to take your baby and get out,” Alex said, grabbing the woman by her arm. Her baby howled, face beet red from his fear. “Wha-what was that thing?!” The woman asked, drawing her baby closer to her bosom. “It’s a ghost and it’s not gone. You have to leave!” Alex said. They turned and were faced with Abigail, her skin nearly translucent, her eyes sunken into her head. With a wave of her arm, she sent Alex flying against the wall. “Mine!” The ghost screeched as she reached out for the child. Suddenly, she burst into the flames and with an ashen collapse, she was gone. Alex looked up through the haze of her head injury, she saw Sam Winchester, dropping the flaming bag of bones onto the floor.
Sam never spoke during the ride back to the bunker. The ice pack had gone warm and Alex tossed it onto the table. “Sam…will you say something?” “Something? Like what? How you almost got that woman and her family killed? How you nearly killed yourself?” “If I hadn’t had been there, they’d all be dead. That baby would be…God knows where!” Sam chuckled at the word ‘God’ ironically. “Listen….I get it. You’re a hunter. A pretty good one. But hunters have short life spans because they work alone. Because they think if you survive a few ghosts and vamps, you’re invincible. But you’re not,” Sam barked, his eyes narrowing at Alex. “I’ve been hunting for MUCH longer than you, Sam Winchester. Just because you LUCKED UP and stopped an apocalypse or two, which you started, by the way, doesn’t make you the Idiot’s Guide to Monster Hunting. I had it under control!” “Control?” Sam laughed, resting his fists onto the table. “You know what it’s like, Sam. To have all this knowledge, this power, bottled up and locked away. You can’t tell me it’s not a rush,” Alex said, barely above a whisper. “Is that what this is about? You’re on a power trip?” “No. But how many people can say they can do the things we do? How many mornings do you wake up resolved to having a normal day, maybe even a boring day, only to be washing blood and guts and whatever else out of your clothes that night? We can’t do normal or boring. We eat, sleep, kill shit and fuck. That’s all there is to this life, Sam, and when you fuck with that equation, it fucks up the mind,” she yelled, pointing to her head.
Sam knew she was right. He hated to admit it, but hunting was the most constant thing in his life. He’d always think about what life would be if Mom hadn’t died, if Jess hadn’t died, if he graduated Stanford. It always nudged him when he wasn’t working, whenever his brain was too quiet. He looked at Alex for a moment, staring at him with the same look he’d see on Dean’s face when his brain was too quiet, right before he went to a bar or took a stranger home. Alex wasn’t expecting him to kiss her. He grabbed a handful of her black jacket and pulled close, pouring his frustration into her mouth. She shrugged from her coat and ran her fingers through his hair. Her adrenaline was still racing from the hunt, moving down her legs and meeting in the middle. He wrapped his massive hands around her back and her ass and lifted her from the floor. She squeezed him as hard as she could with her thighs as she explored his mouth with her tongue. He sat her on the table and allowed her to undress him-shirts, belt, pants- until he stood before her in all his glory. He was impressively large, his erection matching his physique (except for the slight curve to his left). She took him in her hands and watched him close his eyes. Her hands were soft and warm, small compared to his own. She kissed his neck and chest as she moved her hands between the two of them. His heart sank slightly when she let him go to remove her shirt, revealing the red lace supporting her heaving form. His hand replaced hers as he stepped deeper between her legs. He wasn’t expecting her to spit on the tip, coaxing him to touch himself the way he would if he were alone.
She watched him, fixating on his flexing muscles as he placated himself. With his free hand, he slipped his thumb into her mouth, watching her close her pink lips around it and suckle, just enough to seize a moan from his lips. He pulled her head forward, hard enough to part her lips with the tip of his dick. She took him whole in her mouth, swirling her tongue and curling her lips around him. “Alex,” he moaned, nearly losing himself deep in her throat. He knew he wouldn’t be able to keep this up long. If her mouth felt this good, he could only imagine how the rest of her felt. He stepped away from her, long enough for her to unzip her jeans and remove them, exposing the plump mound between her legs. She was in his arms again, gripping his hair in her hand, so very near to him being inside of her. He pinned her roughly against the bookcase before he slipped the very end of his manhood inside her. It had been too long. He was stretching her, muscling her in the way that brought her to the cliff of her orgasm. Sam Winchester had a huge dick and he knew how to use it.
The frustration that weighted his shoulders, he poured into her. He held onto one of the shelves above his head as they rattled the books from their places. She could no longer kiss him; her moans were too loud and it required too much concentration to breathe. She had already cum once, and was very near another that would rattle the very cages of her existence. Sam could feel his arms getting weak from his enjoyment and he carried her to the nearby platform. He very nearly dropped her since she kept rolling her pelvis onto his, nearly causing him to finish before he was done with her. He put her on her feet and spun her around, positioning her to lean down the second and final steps before re-entering her. It was a thrilling position, opening her up this way, hearing her moan his name into the echoing room. Her ass was soft and round as he kneaded his hands into it, their skin clapping together with every stroke. He knew he wouldn’t last much longer with her at his will. She felt her arms shaking, struggling to hold herself up as the Winchester sped up his rate behind her, reaching his hands down to grab her neck and pull her towards him, shortening her pelvic floor. She clenched around him and felt him trying to pull away, trying not to spill himself deep inside of her. With her last bout of strength, she turned herself around and breathed him in, pulling him as deep as she could, allowing him to release his milky juices in the back of her mouth.
They collapsed next to each other, gasping, the cold air smoothing over their blazing skin. Alex reached over and smoothed the damp hair clinging to his forehead, her hand lingering in his silky hair. She knew he was letting his guilt set in, wondering if he should’ve shown more restraint, how this would affect their working relationship. Before she could open up and offer her reassurances, his phone chirped in his jean pocket across the room. He jumped up from his perch and answered, attempting to sound as normal as possible. “Yeah, Dean,” he said, watching the naked Alex stretch out on the step. “Sammy. We got a problem.”