Dream a Little Dream of Me (Supernatural FAnfiction)

Research. In a shitty motel room. While Dean is off doing God knows what. Or worse, God knows who. This is the life of Sam Winchester. But tonight something is going to happen 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 disappointment is apparent when he opens the door and sees her standing there.

“Hey, Sam,” she says in her haughty accent. She walks past him into the room without invitation. That’s how she is. She takes. Whatever she wants.

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

“Bela,” he answers, his hands resting on his hips. “I didn’t think there was a chance in hell you’d show up.”

“Well,” she tells him, looking up into his hazel eyes. “I’m full of surprises.” She moves closer, her hands on the belt of her trench coat. “Though truthfully, you want to know why I’m here?”

Sam takes a step back, trying to maintain some form of distance between them. Bela Talbot was nothing but trouble. 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 corner of the room. She tugs her coat open. “Because of you…” she says, her eyes 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 husky with desire, she tells him, “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Confusion muddies his handsome features and he mumbles, “What?”

Her eyes search his and, rather than answer, she stretches up on her toes and kisses him. It’s soft and almost druggingly slow. He puts his hands on her arms intent on pushing away, but something ignites within him as her tongue skims over his lower lip. He takes a deep breath. “Are you sure?”

Bela doesn’t answer. She’s far too eager to get back to the heat of Sam’s mouth. To feel it pressing against hers and gliding over other parts of her body.

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

His knees 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 fingers thread into the softness of her hair and his tongue plunders her mouth. He’s stunned by how hungry he is for this. How out of control she makes him.

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

“Sam,” she moans breathlessly, pulling his shirt up his back as his hand curls around the strap of her negligée.