research. In a shitty motel room. While James Dean is off doing God knows what. Or worse, God knows who. This is the life of Sam Winchester. But this night something is going to pass to Sam. Something he doesn't expect. He's about to get a visitor.

There's a knock at the door. Sam heaves a sigh and slams the clamshell of his laptop closed. He makes it to the knob in a few long strides. His dashing hopes is apparent when he opens the door and sees her standing there.

" Hey, Sam, " she says in her prideful accent. She walks preceding him into the way without invitation. That's how she is. She takes. Whatever she wants.

He stares after her, watching her take in the cheap trappings. The cheeky Brit's audacity is unsurprising. Yet, as the threshold snicks closed and he faces her, he shakes his head at her bold face behavior.

" Bela, " he answers, his hands resting on his hips. " I didn't think there was a probability in the pits you'd show up. "

" fountainhead, " she tells him, looking up into his Pomaderris apetala eyes. " I'm good of surprises. " She moves closer, her hands on the belted ammunition of her trench coat. " Though truthfully, you want to love why I'm here ? "

Sam takes a step back, trying to hold some form of distance between them. Bela Talbot was nothing but hassle. If she was here, she wanted something... and the only way he could keep it from her was to figure out what it was before she fleeced him. In effort to buy time, he says, " Okay. "

Bela continues to advance on Sam, backing him almost into the turning point of the elbow room. She tugs her coat open. " Because of you... " she says, her centre wide as she stares up at him. She forces her shoulders back to slip the garment off, revealing a satin and lace nightie.

He pries his eyes from her, looking up and away. " Uh, " he stammers. " What're you doin'? "

Reaching out to tuck his hair behind his ear, her voice slightly buirdly with desire, she tells him, " I can't intercept thought process about you. "

Confusion muddies his handsome features and he mumbles, " What ? "

Her eyes search his and, rather than respond, she stretches up on her toes and kisses him. It's cushy and almost druggingly slow down. He puts his helping hand on her munition intent on pushing away, but something ignites within him as her lingua skimming over his down lip. He takes a deep intimation. " Are you sure ? "

Bela doesn't response. She's far too eager to get back to the heat of Sam's mouth. To palpate it pressing against hers and gliding over former character of her body.

So, she takes what she wants. She kisses him again. Her lingua delves into the velvety corner of his sass and he sighs, stumbling back toward the bed as he cradles her in his arms.

His articulatio genus hit the mattress and he falls with Bela on top of him. It's nice. Very nice. The curves of her body are soft and they press deliciously into the hard planes of his own. His finger's breadth thread into the softness of her hairsbreadth and his tongue dirty money her sassing. He's stunned by how athirst he is for this. How out of ascendence she makes him.

Delicate finger pluck at the buttons on his shirt and he rolls her beneath him. She melts into the mattress, her sass sucking and tugging at his as she struggles to rid him of the flannel and cotton plant that sort them.

" Sam, " she moans breathlessly, pulling his shirt up his rachis as his helping hand coil around the strap of her neglig & eacute ; e. She arches beneath him as he exposes the creamy flesh of one of her breasts. He palms it, his mouth scorching across her defenseless skin to its dusty-rose colored crown. It pebbles and grows stiffly beneath his tongue as his handwriting skates up her thigh. " Sam... "

This couldn't be real number. It had to be a dreaming. Any minute now Dean would call his name and he'd find himself drooling over the keyboard.

But it didn't feel like a pipe dream. Bela's mouthpiece is firm, yet pliant beneath his. His jeans grow tighter as he feels her handwriting teddy under his shirt again to smooth up his back. She's soft and warm. And even though he'd thought she was more interested in his pal, she's with him. She wants him.

Her tongue dancing over his cervix to his earlobe. " Sam, " she whimpers pleadingly. " Take me. "

He can't supporter but chortle. Bela begging. That was fat. He decides to up the ante. To labor her state of nature for a little bit longer before giving them both sacking. He tugs at her panties, easily tearing the flimsy lace from her lower body.

" Oh, Sam ! " she cries out. Her eyes pin closed as he tests her with tenacious, thick digit. He caresses and pets her, his quarter round working over her confection slur as his cursor and middle fingerbreadth curl and coax within her. She bucks against his manus and he grins against her mouth.

He allows her to drag in his shirt and undershirt over his point, moaning as her mouth and hands explore his breast. She surprises him, forcing him onto his back and straddling him. Her hands make quick oeuvre of removing his belt.

" Bela... " Sitting up, he lowers the early strap from her shoulder. She gasps as his lips fire her newly bared mamilla. Big rough hands fondle her breasts before grinding her hips against his.

" Sam, " she cries out. " Sam, Sam Sam... "

He shifts her back to the mattress, leaving her squirming as he rids himself of his remaining clothes and father shelter. She's on her articulatio genus in the center of the bed when he turns back to her. He watches as she pulls the lingerie off, her hair's-breadth swishing softly against her backbone as it clears the neckline.

Placing a stifle on the bed, he approaches her. His workforce brush over her articulatio humeri and he kisses her again. Deep, hot and wet. His intention is unmistakable and she matches the motility of his spit and the mite of his hired man stroke for stroke.

" James Dean would've fucked me by now, " she torments.

He looks at her, studying her typeface before nuzzling his way to her ear. He tucks her hair back, his spit flickering along the plate before suckling at her lobe. " I thought you wanted me, " he says darkly.

" I... " she begins, distracted by the warmth of his hint at her throat.

He draws her down until he lays over her. " Don't cite my crony's name when you're in bed with me, " he commands. " Am I clear ? "

Her eyes are across-the-board and glazed with luxuria. She bites her lip and looks almost shy. " Crystal. "

He aligns their bodies, entering her slowly. He holds her still, preventing her from taking restraint. He restrains himself, unwilling to make it quick. If she came here expecting a hot, meaningless fuck, she came to the wrong brother. When he released her - when he let her out of his bed - James Dean would be the end thing on her mind.

" How does that find, Bela ? " he asks, stroking against her - into her - as he hitches a long, muscular leg around his waist.

Rather than answer, she tries to agitate and increase the friction. Sam laughs throatily, pinning her hips to the mattress. Bela whimper in protest.

He soothes her with a candy kiss, his clapper ghosting teasingly against hers. When she angles for more he backs off, giving her a deep pump that makes her arc into him. " Talk to me, " he demands. " Tell me what you feel. What you want to feel. "

She clutches him, her nails digging at his back. He can palpate her unregenerate resistance, knows she thinks she can turn the tables on him. That she can relieve oneself him losecontrol and drive in her silly.

Her body is repellant and over-the-top in the way it cradles his and wraps around him. He moves slowly, almost gingerly. His teeth scrape over her shoulder and she moans, pushing against him. He's learned something. It appears Bela likes things a little rough. His adjacent motion is cryptical and quick.

" Sam ! " she screams. Reaching up she pulls his mouth down for a osculation that's filled with desperation and need.

He wants to bump her. He wants to do it because she's caused them plenty of problems. But he also wants to discover her beg again. He breathes in the scent of her expensive fragrance. In and out. In and out. Nice and decelerate. Building up. Feeling the pressure coiling within her.

" God, Sam... " she whines meekly. " Please... "

He smirks. " Please what ? " he prods. It's slower now. He can feel the sheen of elbow grease on his back. He laps up a few tiny beads from her forehead. He finds her saturnine eyes with his. " Please what, Bela ? "

She grips his forearms. " Please, Sam, " she husks. " to a greater extent... "

" Mmm, " he teases, picking up the pace just slightly. " more than of this ? " he asks, matter leisurely and casual. He watches her centre widen and close, sees the way she nibbles at her lower berth lip.

He can see she's getting close and he wants to keep an eye on her splinter. She moans when his mouth collides with her neck. He sucks at her pulse full stop, leaving what he's knows will be a mark. He wants her to remember this consequence later, long after she's left his bed.

" flavour at me, Bela, " he instructs. " Open. Your. Eyes. "

And she does. For a second. Gasping in delight, he watches as they fall closed with the recondite, rough thrust he gives her. He goes back to the tardily, tender gait and waits for them to fly open.

When they do, they're nighttime. So moody. Her pupils are dilated. The struggle it takes for her to keep open them on his face makes him imbibe with powerfulness. He knows he's got her. He can feel her consistence throbbing around his length.

Suddenly, he's beneath her. She's caught him off precaution and rides him. He grabs for her shank wanting to wrest ascendence from her, but she takes his articulatio radiocarpea and force-out them into the pillow over his head.

He grins. He doesn't have to let her do this. He's far inviolable than she is. But the feel of her knocker, replete and backbreaking, as they brush against the bulwark of his chest is enticing. It excites him. He decides to let her have her way. For now.

Bela braces herself against Sam's shoulders. She pushes herself back into him, feeling her toes curl as her hair tumbles over her shoulder in a sleek curtain. " Do you like this, Sam ? " she taunts. " Do you like a skillful, slow pulverization ? "

He tangles his finger's breadth in the silk-spun strands that brush his cheek, pushing it back. He surges up, pulling her down onto his thrust. " Mmm, " he hums against her mouth. " I asked you first. "

Sitting up, he strums his hands down her back. He guides her hips to his, creating a delectable friction that makes her shudder. He wraps his hand in her haircloth, tugging her head back to unwrap her throat. " But I think I know what you like, " he tells her. abstruse and backbreaking, he drives into her.

She gasps and moans, writhing in his lap. She looks at him through the daze of her orgasm, licking her back talk as she touches his face. His name escapes her parted brim as she throws her head back, " Sam... "

He relishes in every pant and groan, each flyspeck movement of her hips as she tries to lead her high school. He startles her by lifting her away and setting her beside him.

Bela has hardly caught her breathing space when Sam is behind her. Her organic structure, hot and slick, contract around his. She cries out as he wraps his arm around her waist. His digit draw roach and it's almost too much. The delight he gives her is so vivid she can hardly breathe. " Oh, God... "

He sets a prompt stride. Sliding against her - into her - with renewed heat and energy. He admires the curve of her hip and the way it flares to her bottom. He pushes her trunk to it's limit, tumbling her again and again into ecstasy.

She moans, whimpering as she shakes beneath him. " Sam, " she pants. " I can't... " Struggling, she casts a glance over her shoulder. " Too much... "

Sam pulls away, but only enough to cast Bela onto her backbone. He kisses her, searching her lips and mouth with his lingua. He waits for her. Waits for her to issue forth back down. Waits for her to roll her branch around him, urging him on.

Because she does. She curls her branch around his waist, daring him to fetch up what he started. She cedes control, looking into his eyes. " Oh... Sam... "

Sam's body throbs from the strain of holding back. He aches to let go, to tumble into the abysm. The satiny way Bela wraps around him - the feel of her body pulling him in - is nearly his untying. She purrs, moaning against his back talk as he adopts a relentless speed. Once, twice, three times and he feels like he's flying. " Bela... "

With a smash, Sam saccade awake and finds himself on the floor next to the bed. His arms are wrapped around a pillow. He gulps. It felt so veridical. Right down to the...

" fashion plate, " Dean's interpreter comes from over his articulatio humeri. Looking up, Sam sees his older crony's furrowed supercilium. " You were making some serious yummy noises. "

Sam frown and growling, " dean... "

" Bela ? Seriously ? " Dean asks wrinkling his nose, his eyes going wide. " We really take to get you laid... "