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Your eyes were on fire. You’d studied this book cover to cover and found nothing. You’d been through what felt like the entire internet could come up with zilch. You’d even called Rowena, but the few remedies she’d given hadn’t yielded anything and had been nasty to boot. You had nothing to break this curse.
Well there was one thing, but Sam wouldn’t bend.
Of course, the only one of you to get hit with a damn sex curse was the only one who refused to do what it took to break it. You had suggested heading to a bar, Sam had said no. Dean had suggested a hooker, Sam had glared at him. You’d even skated around the possibility of helping if he needed and Sam had looked at you like he had wanted to die.
Actually might if you didn’t get this damn thing under control.
You didn’t know why he was being stubborn. Why he was torturing himself like this. One roll in the hay and he might not die. One hook up and his junk might not fall off.
Sounded like a fair trade to you.
You pretended like it didn’t bother you that he’d been so vehemently against you helping. You’d pretended like you’d just meant it as a friend though Dean had given you one of his knowing glances that earned him a glare. Then he’d suggested the two of you head back to the bunker to hit the books whilst he chased down the witch that had done it. Another glare.
But he’d been right. You had access to whatever Rowena suggested here, to lore and research. And it was easier not to feel bad about it when you couldn’t see Sam visibly struggling under the strain of the thing.
Every time you saw him, he looked miserable. Every accidental touch made him hiss like he was in pain. Every time you looked at him, he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He’d even traded jeans for sweatpants and yet you could still see the strain of him against the grey fabric which made your own skin flush.
He’d been gone for over an hour though you’d been so deep in research you weren’t sure when he’d left you. He’d done it on and off all day. A walk. A cold shower. A moment alone.
None of it helped anyway.
When he reappeared, taking a seat opposite you at the table he looked no better. Worse, actually, exhausted in a way that went deeper than just a lack of sleep. You could see the pain of it pulling at him, it made your heart sink.
‘Find anything?’ he asked quietly when you didn’t speak.
‘No,’ you sighed. Sam sighed and pulled open another book. You sat up and closed yours, shifting before you cleared your throat and murmured, ‘Sam.’
‘No.’
‘You don’t even know what I’m gonna say,’ you reasoned but he looked up at you with a glare. You sighed, ‘okay so you do.’
‘No,’ he repeated firmly.
‘Why not?’ you asked, Sam just huffed and turned his eyes back to his book. It made anger flare inside you, ‘what, am I complete hideous to you or something?’
‘What?’ Sam baulked, stammering over his words, ‘of course not!’
‘So you don’t think you’ll be able to-’
‘I don’t think that’s the issue right now,’ Sam snipped, his patience wearing paper-thin.
‘So why not?’ you demanded. But Sam ignored you, pushing up out of his seat so he could walk away. You followed, ‘can’t a friend help out a friend? It’s not a big deal!’
‘It is to me,’ he countered, spinning around on his heel. You were entirely too close, the heat radiating off you like electricity pinging off his skin. Especially as you looked up at him, wide and expectant.
‘Why?’
‘Because I don’t want you to only want to fuck me because I’ve got some stupid sex curse,’ he said. It was loud, his voice echoing off the brickwork. The silence that followed was deafening. You went quiet, blinking at him.
‘Look I didn’t mean to say it like that,’ he started, ‘that’s why I didn’t want to just ...y’know. I get it if you don’t want that-’
But he didn’t get the chance to finish the thought because you flung yourself at him, arms wrapping around his neck as your mouth attacked his.
It wasn’t what he’d planned, all tongue and teeth and roughness as he guided you back until you hit the table. Your shirt landed somewhere in the bookshelves. His on a chair.
‘Sam,’ you moaned as he mouthed at you like a man possessed.
‘Can’t stop,’ he grunted. Because there was no taking care of you here, not like he wanted to. He could feel the ache in his balls, his cock leaking against his sweatpants.
‘Don’t want you to,’ you promised, pushing his sweats down. Sam faltered as you took him your hand. The relief almost immediate. He fell forward against the desk, hands braced either side of you as you stroked him, hand slickened in seconds he was so turned on.
‘Fuck…that feels so good,’ he groaned, his forehead pressing hard into the slope of your neck.
‘Is it helping?’ you whispered. Sam nodded.
‘Need more,’ he whimpered.
‘Okay, okay, hang on,’ you nodded. You slipped out of his grasp a little earning yourself a strangled noise when you let go of him. His own hand instantly replaced yours, but his large grip didn't offer the same relief. You moved at lightning speed, pulling your jeans down and then your underwear, kicking them into the abyss of the library.
Then you were back, pulling him close for a deep, bruising kiss as you hopped up to sit on the edge of the desk, When he pulled back his eyes were black, searching yours for permission. You nodded and he plunged in, straight to the base in one desperate thrust. You groaned at the impact, your pussy fluttering around him as he started to move.
‘Fuck you feel so good,’ he whimpered.
‘God Sam,’ you said, shifting to wrap your legs around him, taking him deeper. Sam’s pace picked up, his thrusts rough, fast, and uncoordinated. Like an animal you’d unleashed. You were used to restrained and sensible Sam. Not this rough and untethered Sam pinning you to the wood.
‘Not gonna last,’ he said his words swallowed by your mouth.
‘It’s okay,’ you promised, your hands on either side of his face, ‘I got you. M’here.’
He came with a broken whimper, spearing up inside you and collapsing over you, pinning you to the solid wood of the table.
The room was quiet for a minute, Sam’s weight pressed against you, his breath on your neck, still buried inside you. He didn’t soften, but the ache had changed, duller somehow.
When he pulled back, looking up at you from where he rested on your chest you smiled at him, hand coasting gently through his sweat slickened hair.
‘Better?’ you asked. Sam nodded.
You moved slow after that. Sam pulling out of you and tucking himself back into his sweats, still hard, as he pulled you up, He grabbed his shirt off the chair to cover you up then stepped between your open thighs, leaning down to gently graze his lips against yours.
When you broke apart, you couldn't hide your grin.
‘What?’ he asked, his brows knitting together.
‘Nothing, just, was that how you imagined our first time?’ you mused.
‘Not exactly,’ he said bashfully.
‘Well then,’ you said, slipping off the taking his hand, ‘we’re just gonna have to make a few first times to pick from.’