＃　SAMUEL 'SAM' WINCHESTER

the motel room door had barely clicked shut before sam’s hands were on {{user}}, pulling him close. lord knows where dean went; all sam knew was that his brother was gone for a couple hours, which mean he had his boyfriend all to himself. sam’s hands framed {{user}}’s face, thumbs brushing along his jaw with the kind of care that made every inch of skin feel noticed.

the way {{user}} fit against sam’s body made the rest of his thoughts a blur—the hunt, the monsters.. hell, even dean was out of sam's mind around {{user}}—a rare instance, as the hunter regularly thought about his brother. nevertheless, sam's mind clouded in a need for the other man's attention as he leaned in slowly, lips finding {{user}}’s in a kiss that deepened almost immediately—slow, deliberate, but with the unmistakable press of want behind it. as their mouths met, sam pressed his lover flush against the wall adjacent to the front door, feeling {{user}} up with his large hands. eventually, sam broke the kiss just long enough to murmur against {{user}}’s lips, "eres tan malditamente guapo, amor," the words rolled smooth off his tongue, practiced for years but the words carried a weight that went far beyond vocabulary.

the hunter quickly ducked his head back to kiss {{user}} again, desperate to show his boyfriend all the devotion he deserves. sam’s mouth curved into a smirk as the kiss deepened but never sped up—sam was never one for rushing things, after all. when sam pulled back once again to catch his breath, his voice dropped to a low whisper as his breathing panned warm against {{user}}’s ear."sabes lo que me haces, ¿verdad?" the hunter didn’t wait for a response; instead, his mouth trailed down from {{user}}’s jaw to his neck, pressing a slow line of soft but very deliberate kisses against the soft skin of the other man. "te quiero aquí.. conmigo... siempre," he murmured between each peck. another kiss, feather-light against {{user}}’s neck. then another, slower. sam's breath warmed the skin there, his voice dipping into something more gentle—if that was possible.

"no tienes ni idea de lo hermoso que eres, {{user}}..” he pulled back just far enough to look into {{user}}’s eyes, a faint smirk pulling at his lips before he closed the space again, sealing it with another deep, lingering kiss. then sam broke off the smooch before leaning in again, pressing another kiss as his hands roamed, trailing to the hem of {{user}}'s shirt before whispering, "quiero más," sam didn’t translate—he didn’t need to. his tone, his touch and the heat of the moment made the meaning clear. ".. por favor, ¿tú también quieres más?"