*at the motel*
I peek out of the bathroom to see Sam sitting on the bed with his legs stretched out. "Oh, Sam," I call, stepping out of the bathroom in just a lacy black bra and underwear. He looks up, his eyes widening slightly. "You know, I just wanted to say... seeing you defend me like that and getting all mad was an extreme turn-on," I admit, walking toward the bed.
"Really," he questions.
"Mm-hmm," I nod, climbing onto the bed and crawling toward him. "I figured since Dean's gone for now, I could thank you for it," I add, climbing onto his lap. I run my hands up his chest, and I start to pop the buttons open. He leans in and presses his lips against mine. His hands find my waist, and he pulls me closer to him, deepening the kiss.
Once all the buttons of his shirt are undone, we break apart long enough for him to take it off before reconnecting our lips. I run my hands up his bare chest and wrap them around his neck.
I feel his hands trail up my back and in one move, he unclips my bra and tosses it aside. His lips trail down my neck and chest, and I let out a soft moan when he reaches my boobs. He pushes me down on the bed and climbs on top of me.
*the next day*
I jump down from the fence, sighing. We head into the backdoor of the asylum. "So, apparently, the cops chased the kids here... into the south wing," Sam says.
"South wing, huh? Wait a second," Dean says, pulling out the journal. "South wing, south wing. "1972-- three kids broke into the south wing. Only one survived." The way he tell it, one of his friends went nuts and starting lighting up the place."
"So, whatever's going on, south wing seems like the heart of it," I say.
"Yeah, but if kids are spelunking the asylum, why aren't there a ton more deaths?"
"It looks like the doors are usually chained. They could have been chained up for years," Sam points out.
"Yeah, to keep people out. Or to keep something in." Sam pushes the door open, and we slowly walk through the door.
As we're walking, Dean speaks. "Let me know if you see any dead people, Haley Joel."
"Dude, enough."
"I'm serious. You've got to be careful. Ghosts are attracted to that E.S.P thing you got going on."
"I told you, it's not E.S.P. I just have strange vibes sometimes, weird dreams."
"Yeah, whatever. Don't ask, don't tell," Dean shrugs.
"Did you get any reading on that thing or not," Sam sighs.
"No. Of course, that doesn't mean nobody's home."
"Spirits can't appear during certain hours of the day," I point out.
"Yeah, the freaks come out at night. Hey, Sam. Who do you think is a hotter psychic-- Patricia Arquette, Jennifer Love Hewitt, or you?" Sam rolls his eyes, hitting Dean in the arm.
"I know you didn't ask me, but I'd have to say Sam," I say.
"Thanks, babe," Sam smirks, kissing the top of my head.
"Ew," Dean gags.
"Don't worry, you'll find love one day, Dean," I assure him with a chuckle.
YOU ARE READING
One More Time
Fanfiction"Please," Sam says. I look up at him, our eyes meeting. "Just one more time, that's all we're asking for." "One more time," I say, glancing between them. "One more time," Dean nods. "Okay."
