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thecleverdame · 5 years

Text

Control and Release - 20

Series Masterlist

TEDTalk!Sam x Reader

Summary: With the rest of the staff caught in a snowstorm, you find yourself acting as a personal assistant to the notorious Sam Winchester.

Warnings: Dom/Sub, humiliation, embarrassment, sexual objectification, mutual masturbation, spanking, cum play, fingering, anal play, orgasm control, nipple clamps, dub-con, breath play.

Beta: @ilikaicalie

Words: 4k

Parts 21, 22, 23 & 24 are currently available on Patreon for a monthly pledge of $2.50. This includes early access to all my stories, including the ABO series Gods of Twilight and Patreon exclusive content. >> CLICK HERE <<

“Holy shit,” you mutter, staring at your black and blue ass in the mirror. These marks aren’t faint or small. Your backside is covered with thick, deep blue welts from his belt. You woke up on your stomach, only to wince in pain once you rolled over. Then you sat up and nearly yelped at the ache. But now as you stand naked in the bathroom you can’t help but smile, twisting around to get a better look. While you’re going to have a hard time sitting down, it’s a thrilling reminder of last night. A reminder of something new and this connection that’s growing between you and Sam.

Your phone rings and you glance at the number, sighing before answering.

“Hey, mom-”

“Don’t you ‘hey mom’ me. You said you’d call me back and I haven’t heard a peep in forty-eight hours. I’ve been calling and calling.”

“The FBI took my phone. This one came by courier this morning, honestly, I just turned it on like ten minutes ago.”

“Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

“Of course not,” you roll your eyes, glancing at your butt one last time. “A lot’s happened in the last twenty-four hours.”

“Do you want to come home? You can move home with your dad and I. We haven't touched your room.”

“I’m not moving back to Albuquerque. I’m okay, really.”

“And what? You’re headed to Chicago all by your lonesome after what happened? That’s not a good idea.”

“No, I’m staying here in Boston. Things have changed.”

“I’ll come there, then. I was looking at flights this morning. Your father and I can be there by this afternoon.”

“Mom, seriously, I’m fine,” you suppress the urge to get riled up. She loves you, but sometimes it’s too much. Slipping into the closet you find your tiny section of clothes amid Sam’s vast wardrobe.

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course you’re not fine,” she fires back. “Who would be alright after something like that? I’m coming there to take care of you.”

“No, mom, just stop and listen to me. I’m a little shook but honestly, I’m doing good. I’m seeing a therapist. I’m going to be late for my appointment if I don’t hurry up and get dressed.”

“No one should have to go through this alone, sweetheart.”

“I told you, I’m not alone.” You stop to look at the empty bed, Sam was up and out the door before the sun came up. “I’ve got people here. Just please, stop worrying about me so much. I’ll call every day, I promise.”

“I don’t like this. You said you were moving because there was nothing left for you in that God awful city and now you’re staying?”

“Things just...changed. I’ve got positive things here, but it’s hard to talk about it. I feel like shit for talking about anything good that’s in my life when people were just killed. I need time to process everything.”

“Who’s going to make sure you eat? Your appetite is always the first thing to go when you’re stressed. Are you in a hotel? Where are you staying?”

“I’m with a friend until I get my living situation figured out.”

“Thank God, hotels are so impersonal. With those tiny soaps and the coffee is never good. You need a home.”

“Look, I have to go. I’m going to call you later, okay?”

“Alright, I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

As you hang up you walk to the small dresser at the back of the closet and open the top drawer. The two photos that used to be on display are now tucked out of sight You take out the one of him in college. He’s so happy and in love, it’s hard to imagine your Sam is this same person.

If nothing else it’s a reminder of the fact that people are capable of great change.

Walking down the hallways of the hospital you glance down at the paper in your hand with a room number written on it. Pausing at room 7059 you confirm the name scribbled on the dry erase board and knock.

“Come in,” calls out a male voice.

“Hi.” You shuffle inside, leaning around the curtains pulled in a half-circle around his bed. “I’m sorry if I’m bothering you.”

“You’re the last face I expected to see,” Tim laughs and then coughs, grimacing in pain. “But you’re not bothering me. I’m bored out of my mind.”

“Are you sure? I can come back later…” you’re already backing out of the room as he leans forward, wincing in pain.

“Please, just sit down. I’d like the company.”

You step around his bed, sitting in the plastic chair pulled up beside it. Your eyes flutter closed as your ass throbs.

“Oh, I brought you something,” you remember, reaching into your bag and pulling out a copy of The Reckoning by John Grisham. “It was this or Danielle Steel. The gift shop didn’t have a lot of options. I don’t even know if you like to read.” It’s at that moment you spot a Kindle lying beside him on the bed. “Or if you already have an e-reader with access to any book you want.”

“This thing is my mom’s, it’s full of Agatha Christie novels and I don’t have her password to buy anything else.” He holds up the Kindle. “I do like to read and I prefer books. Thank you for bringing me something other than flowers.”

He gestures around the room.

“Wow,” you look at the dozen or so bouquets and potted plants. “I guess people go with what they know.”

“I guess,” he nods, smiling at you. “I’m glad you’re alright,”

“Thanks. I’m glad you’re alright too.” You shift in the chair. “That’s why I’m here. I don’t think I would be alive if it weren’t for you.”

“Eh,” he grumbles, looking away. “I’m not the hero in this story. Winchester is the one who took him out.”

“True, but you distracted him. People were running and you stepped forward, put your arms out in front of us.”

“That was nothing. Just instincts.”

You shrug. “Instincts that bought the rest of us a few seconds. Sam got there just in time, but if you hadn’t tried to help us, I don’t think it would have ended the same way for me. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.” He nods, clearing his throat. “I heard Callie, the redhead who did the corporate travel arrangements...she died this morning in surgery.”

“Yeah,” you confirm, feeling the sadness swell into your throat. “Max died last night. They thought he might make it, but he didn’t.”

The death toll kept rising. It turns out Brent used a particularly nasty bullet designed to do the maximum amount of damage. A lot of the people who survived the initial attack are struggling with serious complications.

“Shit.” Tim sits back against the pillow. You’re both silent as the murmur of the TV rambles in the background. “I’m starting to think I must be lucky. This is actually the third time I’ve taken a bullet. I’m three for three.”

“I heard that. You never know what’s rumor and what’s not but people said that’s why you left the service.”

“That was the second time. But the better story is the first time. I was just a kid. My brother accidentally shot me with my dad’s .22. He was grounded for a year and I got all the chocolate ice cream I could eat. Hell, I still do. My mom brought me some this morning.”

“Maybe you are lucky,” you laugh, checking your cell phone.

Two messages are scrawled across the screen.

Sam: Meet me for lunch.

Sam: Parish Cafe at 1:30

“Someone important?” Tim grins.

“Important and demanding,” you chuckle, responding see you there and put the phone away. “Look I know I don’t know you and I don’t want to make this weird, but if you’re feeling up to it do you think we could get together next week?”

His eyebrows shoot up and you backtrack, shaking your head in embarrassment.

“I didn’t mean...I...God, I’m bad at this. I’m seeing a therapist, and yesterday she suggested that I reach out and try to connect with some of the people who were there when it happened. I was kinda hoping Millie would join us, maybe Lexi - God bless her.”

Tim laughs out loud at that, nodding in agreement.

“Sure, I didn’t have much of a social life before all this and I’m guessing I’ll be a captive audience for some time.”

“Awesome.”

“I thought you were moving? Seems like this would be the perfect opportunity to get the fuck out of dodge.”

You stare at him, a million thoughts merging all at once.

“Things changed.”

“Important and demanding things?” he questions and you can’t help the blush that creeps into your cheeks.

“Yes,” you whisper, getting up. “So, I guess I’ll see you next week then.”

“Just let me know.” He gives you a little salute.

Sam’s seated in the back of the dark little restaurant, reading on his iPad when you join him.

“Sorry I’m late,” you slip into the chair across from him, biting your lip as the sting of the bruises take your breath away. “I don’t think my Uber driver has lived here very long.”

“I could have sent a car for you.” He finishes what he’s reading before looking up. A flicker moves from his eyes to his mouth, just a ghost of a smile. “I like that dress.”

You look down at the black and white gingham summer dress you bought yesterday. “Thanks, it’s new.”

“I don’t normally see you this casual.”

“I guess that’s true,” you grin at him. He looks handsome today. Sam always looks good, but there’s something about when he doesn’t wear a tie and lets the top buttons of his shirt lay open that you just love. “You like it huh?”

“Very much,” he confirms. He carefully places his tablet and his phone screen down on the table. It’s something new he’s started doing when he intends on giving you his full attention.

“So,” you take the cloth napkin, folding it over your lap. “This was unexpected. I thought you’d be too busy.”

“Not for you,” he responds succinctly and you feel your heart speed up.

This is Sam trying.

“You keep saying things like that and we might need to get a room after lunch,” you laugh, then realize how much easier this feels, more natural than before. You worried it would be hard to relax around him, but that’s not the case.

“That could be an interesting prospect,” he trails his finger around the edge of his water glass, lost somewhere between amusement and arousal. “Not today, but another time.”

“I’ll look forward to it then. You know, I haven’t officially asked yet, can I have my job back?”

“Of course,” he scoffs, “In fact, I’m thinking of placing you as a sort of mentor to a new guy I have coming in.”

“A mentor? I’m barely a secretary.”

“I meant more of a mentor for navigating the people, the office politics. What happened with Brent can’t happen again. I need someone down in the trenches watching the junior associates. After what happened with you and Max, and now Brent it’s clear it’s the wild west and I intend to reign it in. I should have seen it before.”

“What exactly happened...with Brent?”

“It’s not clear yet. I think Brent took the fall for a couple of other guys, they set him up to be a scapegoat. I suspected it at the time but I also have to walk a fine line. I can’t accuse senior staff of lying unless I have something to back it up. It undermines their authority. I’m bringing in several people from the outside for oversight, we need a fresh start.”

“What are you going to do about the building?”

“Have it demolished. I can’t expect anyone to work there. I was focused on expanding the campus, but now that’s futile. There are two buildings downtown, big enough for everyone but I have to ensure it’s the right fit. I’m headed there this afternoon if you’d like to join me.”

“I’d like that,” you watch him pick up the menu.

You could get used to this.

Two Weeks Later

“You found a place?” Sam inquires, looking through the stack of mail.

“Yup, it’s a loft. It’s small but there are tall ceilings so it doesn’t feel claustrophobic. Lots of windows. It’s exactly what I need right now.” You grin, plopping down on his couch. “They said I can move in next Monday.”

“Are you ready for that?” he inquires nonchalantly, skimming over a letter. “You said your therapist suggested you shouldn’t be alone, not for a while.”

“I’m not gonna be alone. We start working at the office on Wednesday, I always spend weekends with you and I’m hoping maybe I could see you during the week sometimes...it’s been nice spending time together, you know, other than sex.”

You watch him absorb this confession, a thoughtful expression crossing his face as he sets the remaining mail aside and looks at you.

“It’s been different than I thought. I haven’t shared personal space like this in a very long time. I assumed I would feel suffocated, but I haven’t. You’re easy to be around.” He delivers this information deadpan and your entire face goes hot. “It’s been nice.”

“Maybe you could come to my place sometime? I can try to cook something, and I’ll probably have a futon by then. Maybe even a loveseat if my boss gives me a raise with this fancy new position. You can see how the other half lives.”

“That sounds...terrible,” he grins, watching you carefully.

“Yeah, it does,” you laugh out loud, genuinely happy for the first time in a long time. “But I am getting a new bed, I ordered it this morning. We could break it in…”

“You let me know once the futon arrives and I’ll drop by.” He gives in, checking his watch. “There is one thing we need to talk about.”

“That sounds vaguely ominous,” you chatter, giving him your full attention.

“You asked me to void our contract. I had it taken care of this morning.” He gives a curt little nod.

“I wanted to talk about that...about us and how this works now. I’d still prefer if our relationship remained private. For the time being at least.” You’ve been thinking about it more and more over the last few days.

“I understand,” Sam agrees easily.

“It’s just, people will assume a lot of things. And they’re nosey. I like this being just ours.”

“You don’t have to explain, I understand. My life entails more than you realize. No one pays attention to me because I don’t date actresses or get DUIs, but once you’re in the mix, eventually someone will take an interest.”

“We’re not very scandalous,” you snort, “Well, I guess kind of, but not in a ‘Page Six’ way.”

“True.” Sam looks relaxed, more at ease than you’ve seen him since this thing between you started. “You’re always welcome here,” he adds, before shifting his attention back to his work.

“You start work tomorrow?” Carol, your psychiatrist, is always examining you. But that’s why you come here, to be an open book. You’ve always been open to the idea of therapy and after everything that’s happened this can’t hurt.

“Yeah, going in on a Wednesday. We’re starting back up with a three day week.” It’s been a month since the shooting and life has inevitably moved despite the many changes. “I’m kinda nervous. I keep having this thought that I shouldn’t feel so normal. Like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop and have some kind of a breakdown or something.”

“Are you still experiencing triggers?”

“Yeah,” you admit. This is the most frustrating part for you. Ninety-nine percent of the time you’re fine but out of the blue you find yourself spiraling down this dark hole. The panic attacks hit you out of nowhere and disappear just as quickly. It’s normal, that’s what everyone keeps telling you, but the unpredictability of it is infuriating. “I went three days with nothing and then last night we were eating dinner and bam. I almost passed out. Five minutes later I was fine.”

“Was there anything that stood out about that moment? A loud noise? Someone yelling?”

“No,” you shrug. “I was in the kitchen. I don’t even turn the TV on anymore. I never noticed before how many guns there are. Someone’s always shooting or talking about it. The first couple of times it happened I thought that was it. CNN was on the background, maybe I heard something I didn’t realize. But I’ve officially marked that off as a possibility. The trigger must be something else.”

“Well, just keep an eye on it. Next time it happens try to make a note of the details. Write it down right away, or take a video with your cell phone. We’ll figure it out. And if it gets bad, you call me and we can talk about medication again.”

“Honestly, I feel fine most of the time. I was thinking this morning I must be a psychopath. You know I didn’t even cry at Max’s funeral?”

“We’ve talked about survivor's guilt. Everyone’s experience is different. That’s just one facet of it. Take things slow and if you start to experience any emotional discomfort, take a step back.” She suggests, supportive as ever.

“I will. I’m ready to just dive in. I’ve got this new position and a new apartment.” You smile, thinking about all the emerging possibilities.

“New relationship,” she adds, as if you’ve purposely avoided mentioning it. And maybe you have. It’s not that she doesn’t approve, but she’s cautious.

“I know you don’t think it’s a good idea, but we’re actually in a good place.”

“I never said that I thought it was a bad idea. I simply pointed out that you hold things back when it comes to him. You stop yourself from spilling too many details. Sometimes that can be a warning sign. And your work situation is less than ideal. You said he’s your boss?”

“More like...my boss’s boss’s boss. He’s at the top of the food chain.”

“Well, it’s probably better he’s that far removed.” She makes a note on her pad. “And your sex life remains one hundred percent consensual?”

“Yeah, God, you make it sound like there’s something wrong with it.”

“Again, that’s you projecting what you assume my opinions are. But I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t ask. You’re certainly not the first woman in the world who enjoyed being tied up. There’s nothing wrong with it as long as it’s not having a negative impact on your self-worth or emotional health.”

“No, things are really good, all around. It sounds so fucked up to say that, but I feel like my life has a future. Is that weird? It’s not that I was sad or depressed before, but I was treading water. Now I’m going somewhere.”

“Sometimes terrible things bring necessary change. You didn’t know how to move forward here, and now you do.”

The new offices are two high rise buildings connected by a walkway. It’s just temporary until Sam decides on where to build the new campus but for the next couple years, this is the home of W & S.

Glancing at the post-it in your hand you look again at the number in front of you.

Workspace 2852

The office team had decided everything is now labeled as a workspace. There are no more offices and cubicles. Only workspaces - that look exactly like traditional offices and cubicles. You trail down the aisle, cubicles flanking the left and offices against the right-hand wall. Coming to the end of the cubicles you check the paper again. You must have missed it.

“You alright, sweetheart?” Gloria from the travel team asks.

“I can’t find my desk. Maybe I’m on the wrong floor,” you explain.

She takes the paper from you, looking at the number and pointing to a small office tucked into the corner. “2852, right there.”

“No way,” you grin, getting closer only to find your last name scrawled across a piece of masking tape in the center of the door.

“Sorry about the tape. The nameplates are coming, that’ll have to do for now.”

“No, it’s fine.” You’re beaming like an idiot, opening the door and stepping inside. It’s small, but the ceilings are vaulted and it’s literally in the corner of the building. Two walls are floor to ceiling windows that overlook the city below. “Shit,” you mumble to yourself, scarcely able to believe this is your little corner of the world.

The office is naked, just a desk, computer and filing cabinet. But it’s yours.

There’s a single, white envelope on the desk and you have a feeling who’s left it for you. Inside is a note written on the back of a business card.

Enjoy. You deserve it.

“Sam,” you whisper, clutching the little card like it’s a bouquet of flowers. Turning the card over you’re met with another shock. The card is yours. Your name with the title of Department Liaison underneath.

“Sorry to bother you.” A new voice and two knocks come from behind you. You turn to find an unassuming man standing in the doorway. “I know you're probably busy. I just wanted to drop in and introduce myself. I’m Cole Trenton.”

Cole Trenton, your new boss.

“Hi,” you beam back. He looks...nice. There’s a big smile plastered across his face as he extends his hand. His handshake is firm but not too hard, some men feel the need to crush you to prove a point but not him. “Y/N. I just got here. I’m not normally late but I couldn’t find my des- office.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He waves his hand dismissing any concern. Shoving both hands in his pockets he wanders inside, looking at your view. Whistling, he looks back at you. “Someone must like you. I’m right next door, mine is bigger, but nothing like this.”

“To be honest I thought I’d be stuck out there in cubicle land.”

“Not anymore.” He taps your desk with the back of his knuckles. “I’m not sure what your schedule looks like today, but I was hoping we could sit down and I could pick your brain. You’re my eyes and ears right?”

“Absolutely,” you affirm. “Welcome, by the way. We’ve needed someone like you for a long time.”

“I’m lucky to be here. Working for Sam Winchester was pipe dream up until two weeks ago. I just don’t wanna screw this up. I’ve heard he’s a bastard but he can make or break you.”

“He’s not so bad,” you feel the business card burning a hole in your hand. “He just has high expectations.”

“I’m alright with that,” he chuckles lifting his hands palms forward in a sign of submission. “Let me know once you’re settled in. Whadda you say we order a pizza and go over employee files. It’ll be the first act of official business in your new workspace.”

“That sounds great. It looks like you’ll have to bring your own chair.” You’re on cloud nine. You’ve got a boss that doesn’t hate you with his very marrow. “It’s nice to meet you, Cole.”

“You too.” He pats the door frame on the way out, leaving you truly immersed in this new beginning.

#sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester smut

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thecleverdame · 5 years

Text

Control and Release - 11

Series Masterlist

TEDTalk!Sam x Reader

Summary: With the rest of the staff caught in a snowstorm, you find yourself acting as a personal assistant to the notorious Sam Winchester.

Warnings: Dom/Sub, humiliation, embarrassment, sexual objectification, mutual masturbation, spanking, cum play, fingering, anal play, orgasm control, dub-con, nipple clamps, breath play (more warnings as the story continues)

Words: 5.6k

Beta: @ilikaicalie

Parts Twelve and Thirteen (Fourteen coming tomorrow) are currently available on Patreon for a monthly pledge of $2.50. This includes early access to all my stories and Patreon exclusive content. >> CLICK HERE <<

You sit there naked as the shower turns on. There’s a part of you that knows you should leave, it’s the safest way to ensure a clean division between sex and, well, everything else. But the truth is all the logic in the world doesn’t stop you from getting up and joining him in the shower.

He turns toward you as you open the glass door and step inside, his hair slicked back. He moves out of the way for you to wet your hair before switching places. He doesn’t touch you, instead he watches as you lather your body with the hotel provided soap. His eyes follow as soapy hands move between your legs, then over your breasts. He waits for you to finish and then steps out, wrapping himself in a fluffy white towel, handing one to you before wordlessly disappearing back into the room.

You follow him, toweling dry, trying to act casual as he stands stark naked, rubbing his hair with the towel and slipping into bed. You do the same, walking to the other side and crawling under the sheets as he reaches over and turns off the light.

“Good night,” are his last words as he turns onto his side, facing away from you and settles in.

There’s a hand rubbing up and down your back as you lie belly down, still in the depths of sleep. Slowly you blink awake, the early morning sun shining through a crack in the curtains, cutting like a knife through butter into the dark of the room.

While you don’t know what time it is, it’s still early enough that no part of you wants to move. It’s Sam’s voice that brings you back into the land of the living and the realization that you’re still in his bed.

“You have to get up.” A big, warm hand spreads wide across your back, fingers fanning out. The feeling of his hands on you, skin on skin is a simple but rare pleasure.“It’s almost six and Pepper will be here soon. Our flight leaves at nine, and you need to pack.”

“It’s too early, just leave me here. I’ll live on the West Coast now.” you whisper, rolling onto your back. He’s hovering above you, propped up on one elbow looking bright eyed at this ungodly hour. “Do you ever sleep?”

“Rarely.” He pushes a strand of hair back from your cheek. “Really, you need to get up.”

“I’m moving.” With a final push, you force yourself to sit up and get out of bed. You're naked and it’s cold as you hop around the room, trying to find your clothes and get dressed. Still half asleep you walk to the door in a daze and he follows you. “Last night was...incredible. Really, I’ve never felt anything like that.”

He seems to enjoy your early morning confession, grinning as you yawn into the back of your hand.

“Go on,” he opens the door. “You can sleep on the plane, you deserve it.”

Five Days Later - Tuesday

You’ve spent the better part of two days staring at lists of phone numbers and calls. The computer does most of the cross-referencing, all you’re left with is a spreadsheet full of names, dates and times. Thousand of them.

It’s early afternoon when you realize that something’s wrong.

Before you were assigned to the endless pit of phone calls, Max had you sorting through and categorizing depositions, ensuring the transcriptions were correct. You know this case inside and out. You’ve heard every word of testimony a dozen times and that’s how you know that Kurt Jablonski, your client, swore up and down multiple times that he never made direct contact with a private investigator named Lea Hammond.

And yet here you are staring at a number identified as one of Lea Hammond’s burner phones making and receiving calls from an office line that only Kurt had access too. His calls are normally made through his security so it’s possible he’s naive enough to think that there wouldn’t be a trace, but you’re staring at the proof of their connection.

You’ve got no idea what this means, but it’s a huge case. Sam’s had teams flying back and forth from Florida for months.

Now comes the hard part, you have to tell Max.

You never returned his texts and he’s been giving you the cold shoulder. But you report to him, at least for this case, so there’s no way around it. You write down the names and dates on a post-it and head to the conference room where Max has set up shop with half a dozen other junior associates.

“Excuse me,” you knock lightly on the door frame and they all look up. Frank Walenchecz looks from you to Max and grins, which piques your interest but that’s not why you’re here. “Max, can I talk to you for a minute?”

“We’re kinda in the middle of something here.” He rotates his chair, eyeing you up and down. “I’ll find you later if you need me.”

Everyone in the room chuckles and your cheeks flush hot.

“I think you should look at this, I found something-”

“I said we’re busy.” He’s emboldened now, his condescending tone laced with an underlying hostility that you pick up on in a second.

“Max, this is serious,” you insist. “It says on the schedule that the team in Florida is going through final prep with Mr. Jablonski but-”

“Why don’t you worry about your filing and leave the thinking to the big boys, huh?” He tilts his head, making no attempt to hide as he stares at your breasts. “I’ll find you later, sweetheart.”

You can hear snickers as you shut the door, humiliated.

You wait. And wait.

It’s nearly six when you walk back down the hall only to find the conference room empty. He’s left for the day.

Wednesday

You’ve only been in the office for an hour, sorting through a new stack of documents when Lance Barton saunters up to your desk. He’s not exactly a friend, but the two of you are friendly per se. He’s a junior associate and just as full of himself as every other lawyer working at W & S, they all know how good they have it.

“Good morning,” he perches on your desk, shoving a paperweight to the side to make room for his ass.

“Hey,” you look at him, offering a genuine smile. He doesn’t say anything, just sits there staring at you with a shit eating grin on his face. “Did you need something?”

“Actually, I came to ask you that.” He chuckles, biting his bottom lip. It takes you a minute to understand exactly what he’s implying. When the realization finally dawns you’re so taken off guard that you don’t know how to respond.

“I-” you start, sitting back, staring at him in disbelief. “I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”

You turn back to your work, trying to ignore him, but he doesn’t move.

“Come on,” Lance leans down, placing his hand over yours on the desk, you jerk it back in response, unprepared for actual physical interaction. “We’ve always gotten along, haven’t we?”

“Please stop.” You pull your hand away, clutching it in your lap.

“Max said you liked to play hard to get.” He whispers, now close enough that you can feel his breath on your cheek. “But he also said it was worth it, that you’re a wild little thing.”

You look at him wide-eyed, mouth falling open as nausea sets in. “Max told you that?”

“Don’t be shy.” Lance smiles, his eyes trailing down your body. “You just let me know the next time you need an itch scratched and I’ll take care of you.”

He saunters away, looking smug, leaving you gutted. You’d already guessed from Max’s reaction yesterday that he’d greatly exaggerated his relationship with you, but this is a whole other level.

Greg Smith from IT walks by your desk, eyes lingering too long and you know it has already grown into something you’re not going to be able to control.

Thursday

“Everyone knows your dirty little secret.” Pepper pours herself a coffee looking up at you. “I mean, you probably think you’re hiding it but I can see right through you.”

You almost choke on your spit, stopping to stare at her, swallowing hard.

“What are you talking about?” you stammer and she smirks, sipping her coffee.

“Oh stop it. The whole office knows about you two.” She shakes her head and you want to melt into the floor.

“You’re talking about….Max?”

God, you hope it’s only Max.

“Who else?” Pepper is always a bitch but she’s really enjoying this. “I knew there was something between the two of you.”

“There was and never has been anything going on between us.” You correct her, holding your head high.

“I could have told you he was a snake. They’re all wannabes with too much money who think they’re going to be Sam Winchester some day. It’s pathetic.”

“Whatever he said, it’s not true.” You want to ask for more details but you’re not sure you could handle it.

“He told everyone, might as well have sent out a newsletter. Every nasty detail, how you suck cock, how you begged him to fuck you...everywhere. He told Colin you’re too slutty for him. Too much of a whore for Max...that must be a new low.”

“Why are you telling me this?” you whisper, fighting back tears. There’s a swell of anger and humiliation rising in your chest.

“Because you should know. I might be a lot of things, but I’m not afraid to say things to someone’s face. I know you’re Sam’s favorite right now, God only knows why. But that doesn’t mean anything in the real world. Outside of his office, you’re just a small fish, fighting for room in the pond with the rest of us.”

She turns on her heels and walks away, leaving you stunned.

The last thing you want to do is see Max face to face, but you need to show him the information you found. While you’d love to see him crash and burn, it could affect Sam and you won’t let that happen.

You knock twice on the door to his small, windowless office and he looks up. His face hardens when he realizes it’s you. “Back for more? Can’t stay away huh?”

“What are you talking about?” You shrug, stepping inside and shutting the door. “It’s just us now, stop the act. I thought we were friends, Max. Why are you doing this?”

“What am I doing?” he asks, picking up a stress ball and squeezing it in his fist. “I haven’t talked to you in a week.”

“You’ve talked to everyone else. Telling stories about things that never happened.” Stepping closer to his desk you search his face for some kind of understand. You didn’t see this coming. Are you this bad of a judge of character? “Why are you trying to hurt me?”

“Why are you such a cock tease?” he spits, crushing the foam ball in his grasp.

“You know,” you back out the room, defeated, “the sad part is that I thought you were a good guy.”

“Why don’t you go find someone else to play your games with,” Max calls out as you leave and you hear the ball hit the wall with a soft thump.

Friday Morning

Sam waits outside the door to the conference room as Pepper hands him the latest update on the case. He opens the folio, reading through the documents. He’s always fully prepared.

“Do you need me?” Pepper asks, “Because I need to finish the notes from your call with Mr. Takahashi. You’ll need the final proposal before your one o’clock.”

“No,” Sam shakes his head without look up. “I should be back in my office by eleven. We’ll have time to review.”

She wanders off and Sam’s flips through page after page, scanning the notes. He’s not really listening, it’s your name that pulls him out of what he’s reading, moving closer to the open door.

“I’m telling she was practically begging for it,” Max explains.

“If Y/N was so into it then why are you so hot and cold?” Another voice asks. “You’ve been after her for months.”

“Because every other guy has already been there.” Max laughs. “I mean she’s a real whore, let me fuck her ass the first time. That’s how you know she’s been open for business.”

“Shit,” someone else grunts. “If you don’t want her, I’ll damn sure get in line.”

“Go for it man, two drinks and she was all over my dick like she hadn’t been fucked in years. She was starving for it.”

Friday Afternoon

“What is it?” Sam snips, looking for up for only a second. You haven’t seen him since you got off the plane in Boston last week. You know he’s been busy but you expected less hostility.

“I need to show you something.” You inch into his office.

“Can it wait?” He sits up, pulling off his glasses to stare you. He normally looks you up and down but right now his eyes are boring a hole into yours with an unwavering stare. “I’m busy. I don’t have time for you today.”

Jesus.

You take a breath, holding back with everything you have, you’ve wanted to cry for forty-eight hours but you didn’t think Sam would be the one to push you over the edge.

“Um-” you stutter, words getting caught in your throat.

“Um?” He raises an eyebrow. “Pull yourself together, use words like an adult.”

You swallow hard, tears brimming, as you try to swallow the thump in your throat.

“There’s something I came across when I was sorting through phone records for the Jablonski case.” You manage stable words, masking your looming breakdown.

“And you’re bothering me with this why?” He asks plainly as if you’re some low-level employee he’s never laid eyes on before.

“I just thought-”

“What did you just think? That because I fucked you I would suddenly have time for whatever this is?” His eyes are on fire and you wished you could melt into the floor.

“Jesus Christ, you’re a real dick, you know that?” you whisper, a tear running down your cheek, mouth trembling. “What did I do?”

His eyes light up, rage threatening right there under the surface. “Why aren’t you giving this to your project leader? Max has time for you, I’m sure.”

“I tried. He won’t listen to me.”

“Why?” Sam’s jaw locks, seething with anger. You’ve got no idea where this is coming from but you’re fully prepared to leave this building and never come back. “Stop crying, it’s pathetic.”

“Because,” you close your eyes, fresh tears falling, you’re really crying now. You stare at the floor, unable to take any more of his glare. “Because he’s mad at me.”

“Why is he mad at you?” He pushes as if he's waiting for some lurid confession.

“I wouldn’t sleep with him. He’s been an absolute asshole. He’s successfully made my life a living hell. I’m pretty sure he told everyone in the building that I’m a whore. I’ve got people I don’t even know whispering about me in the halls. I tried to show him but he won’t listen to me. I found something. I think it’s important so I came up here to tell you and now you’re...whatever this is. Please just take this so I can leave.”

You hold out a folder, wincing as he steps forward. He takes the folder out of your hands, but the next thing you feel is both his hands cupping your face, thumbs pressed into your cheeks.

“Calm down.” His voice is softer now, less commanding, more soothing.

You look at him, and gone is his threatening stare, it’s been replaced by something gentler.

“I haven’t done anything, to anyone.” you offer, stripped bare of pretense as you look up at him. “I’m just trying to help.”

“I jumped to some conclusions, I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.” It makes sense now, he’s heard the rumors. One of his hands moves from your face to your chest, placing his hand wide over your heart, resting between your breasts, guiding your breath. “I’m sorry.”

While it doesn’t excuse his actions you’re fairly sure Sam Winchester rarely apologizes, if ever.

“Okay,” you whisper, unable to dive any deeper, not right now at least.

“I’ll look through what you brought and take care of the Max situation.”

“I’m not a snitch,” you gulp, “I didn’t tell you to get him in trouble.”

“I know that. But you did tell me and I can’t have one of my employees talking about another like this. I won’t allow this kind of hostile environment for anyone.”

“He’s going to know I told you.”

“He’s going to know you told HR, because that’s how we’ll deal with it.” He sets the folder on his desk and picks up his phone.

“You’re done for the week. Go downstairs, I’ll have my driver take you to my house. You’re going to spend the weekend with me.”

“The weekend?” You look up, wiping tears as your mind tries to shift off of Max and into whatever this new territory is. “I don’t have anything with me.”

“You won’t need much.”

Sam’s house is a huge, modern home in Newton, Massachusetts. You know from listening to Pepper that he has a loft in Boston but this sprawling architectural wonder is his real home, far outside the city.

Dealing with him on a more intimate level it’s been easy to forget that he’s filthy fucking rich. He’s made more money than most people can dream of and this house is a jarring reminder that you’re in his world now.

The driver walks you to the door, punches in a code and ensures you’re inside before leaving. The floors are dark wood and everything else is stark white, it makes the place feel almost antiseptic. You take your shoes off and trail down the hallway that opens up into a generous living area, twice the size of your entire apartment. There is a couch, several chairs, and a coffee table. The walls are bare, save for one huge painting hanging on the wall, it’s all dark colors and strange shapes.

You continue exploring, wandering down a narrow hall to the right and find the kitchen. It’s just as devoid of personality as the rest of the house. He could feed a small army and you wonder if he’s ever lonely being one man with all this unnecessary space.

There’s a labyrinth of empty bedrooms, filled with furniture and not much else. At the end of this hall is his room, it’s unmistakable. In contrast to the rest of the place, there are splashes of color. The door to his closet is open and you slip inside, flipping on the light to find hundreds of suits, pressed and hung with meticulous care. There’s a second closet filled with his casual clothing, sneakers, and gym clothes. It sparks a lot of thought about what he’s truly like outside of the professional world.

Is this it? Is all this naked space his life? It seems...unfulfilling.

At the end of the closet, there’s a dresser with two pictures sitting on top. You pick one up and examine it. It’s a family, mother, and father, a young boy and a baby. It’s easy to guess that the baby is Sam, this was a life that was taken from him.

The second photo is unmistakably Sam with a mop of wild hair hanging over his forehead. He looks to be in his early twenties and he’s smiling bright and happy, eyes lit up with joy. He’s got his arm around a beautiful blonde who’s pressing her lips to his cheek. This Sam looks alive, warm and inviting. Another version of him from a happier time.

There’s a faint sound and you set the picture down, shutting off the light and scrambling out of the room. You find him in the living room, slipping his suit jacket off and laying it over the back of a chair. He looks up, a half-smile crossing his lips.

“You,” he points to you, shaking his head. “Just saved me from an utter disaster. I have twenty lawyers on that case, five paralegals and you’re the only who caught the phone calls.”

“It was something?” you question, moving closer.

“More than something. Kurt hasn’t been telling us the truth. If we had moved forward with our current strategy he would have ended up in jail and our reputation would have taken a massive hit.”

“Well, I’m glad I could help,” you offer, still reeling from the rollercoaster of a day you’ve had. “Before you say anything else, there’s something I need to say.”

“What is it?” he asks, getting closer.

“I know you have a lot going on. You’re busy and you don’t always have time for me. I understand that you’re blunt and like to get right to the point. But I can’t handle the way you spoke to me today. I enjoy what we have, but I won’t be around someone who treats me like that.”

He waits for a beat, eyes honing in on you, his head tilting as his tongue darts out. You can practically see the gears turning.

“I overheard a rumor and took it as truth. I, of all people, should know better,” he offers. “I don’t share. I’ve never played well with others and when I heard what I did, I reacted. I am sorry for that. I asked you to trust me and I need to trust you in return. It’s the only way this works. I trust you to keep your word, make good on your commitments. I will never speak to you that way again.”

“Good.” You gulp, feeling suddenly small in his living room. “Let’s not talk about it anymore.”

“Agreed.” He moves past you, reaching out to squeeze your arm as he heads off toward the kitchen and you follow. “Are you hungry?”

“Yea - Yes. I am. I was so worked up all day, I haven’t eaten anything since last night,” you confess, almost afraid of what kind of strange, kale-infused delicacy he’ll offer you.

“I’ll make something.” He opens the refrigerator, looking back you. “How do you feel about beets?”

“What I’m about to do is all about trust,” Sam explains as you sit naked in his lap, knees on either side of his thighs. His cock is thick and hard, trapped between your bellies.

“I know,” you nod, one hand on each of his shoulders. Your nails sink into his skin, holding on like he’s already begun. You look him in the eyes, searching for understanding. “I trust you, I’m just...nervous.”

“You’ll like it.” He nods, both hands holding your hips tightly. “It’s an incredible release.”

His hand wedges between your bodies again, finding your clit, rubbing a few last times before he gets started. He’s spent the better part of an hour getting you worked up, you're wet and throbbing, ready for more.

“Lift up,” he instructs and you rise up on your knees as he takes his cock into his hand and slips the head into your pussy. “Now lower down, take it all.”

You stare at him as you slide down his dick, not stopping until you’re filled to the brim.

“Jesus,” you gasp, eyes fluttering closed for a moment. He’s thick, a wonderful stretch that sends little jolts of pleasure up your spine.

“Hands behind your back.”

You comply, placing your wrists together at the base of your spine. He picks up his discarded tie, reaching around and securing your wrists. The fact that he doesn’t need to see to be able to properly tie you up, has you both excited and concerned.

Sitting back he looks at you, then down to where you’re sitting on his dick.

“Fuck yourself on my cock, slowly.”

Lifting up you hum with satisfaction, feeling the drag of him inside you. It’s only intensified when you sink back and find a rhythm, even and constant, as you stare at each other. After a few minutes he starts to breath faster, mouth clamped shut as he studies your face. One hand comes up and slides around your throat. His fingers nearly reach the back of your neck, thumb pressing into the opposite side under your jaw.

He squeezes, not hard, just enough to make you feel the pressure and you whimper, sliding up and down his shaft. Leaning all the way back in the chair, he reaches between your bodies with his free hand and begins to carefully rub your clit.

Your mouth falls open as the pleasure builds, everything between your legs slick and throbbing. His cock alone would be enough to get you off like this, you’re not used to the stretch yet, you doubt you ever will be, but it’s a wonderful challenge as you lift yourself up and down in his lap.

“Feels so good,” you whisper, biting your lower lip, his thumb moving faster over your swollen clit.

“Stick your tongue out,” he instructs. You blink, feeling the all too familiar shame creep in as you drop your jaw and stick your tongue out.

He keeps you just like this as the minutes tick by, your whimpers and moans sound even more desperate with your mouth wide open, tongue hanging out like some kind of slutty porn star.

Tugging at your hands you almost falter, only to have the hand around your throat grow tighter, holding you in place.

“You don’t have to ask permission to cum, just let it happen.” And with that his lips curl and his fingers clench and suddenly you can’t breathe. You knew this was coming, he’d prepared you for it but the first time you can’t help the panic, your heart speeding up.

For five seconds you are open-mouthed, fighting for air and then he lets up and you suck in a huge breath.

“Don’t stop fucking,” he reminds you. You’ve slowed down but you pick up the pace, sliding back and forth more than up and down. “Tongue back out.”

You comply and his grip tightens until you can’t breathe again and this time it’s longer. His thumb works faster over your bud, his hips rise up, keeping his cock moving inside you.

This time it’s ten seconds, and by the time he lets go your whole body is hot, sweat breaking out from head to toe.

You expected more pleasure, it’s not exactly bad but also not the pay off you anticipated.

After a few deep breaths, you stick out your tongue and ride him as his fist closes around your throat, tighter than the two previous times. His thumb presses firm, you feel your orgasm building as he squeezes the last breath out of you. You start to squirm, pulling at the restraints out of instinct. A desperate gagging sound leaves your throat and you’re getting closer and closer and then it happens at the same time. Your vision starts to go spotty and you cum at the same time. He eases up, but barely, still controlling the air supply as you jerk on his cock.

You’re floating and then there’s a rush of pure euphoria. It’s a tingling, weightless feeling that seamlessly melts into the pleasure of your orgasm and the whole world fades away. There’s nothing else, only the feeling of your body rolling up and down and an incredible pleasure between your legs.

Unsure how long you’ve hung in this transcendental state, you blink, vision clearing only to find Sam staring at you, both his hands cupped around your cheeks, holding your head up.

“Wow,” you whisper smiling like a fool, looking at him from under hooded eyes as an overwhelming wave of satisfaction and bliss sets in. “Thank you.”

“It looked incredible.” His eyes are lit up and moving quickly, searching your face.

“Untie me please,” you request softly, not entirely of sound mind yet.

He blinks, hesitates for a moment, then one hand leaves your face to reach behind you to free your wrists. Without thinking you wrap yourself around him, both hands sliding behind his neck as you rest your head on his shoulder.

His palms slide up your back, holding you as you come back down to earth, thumbs stroking back and forth until your breathing is back to normal. Once you’ve semi-recovered you sit up, inches away from his face as you look at each other. He’s even more handsome up close, the little wrinkles around his eyes and the pink of his lips are beautiful.

Wordlessly you lift yourself up, letting his cock slide almost of your pussy before sinking back down, finding a pace that makes your thighs burn as you ride him, desperate to give him the same release he’s just gifted you.

“Fuck,” he groans, head tipped back, the muscles of his neck straining. The two big hands on your hips pull you down onto him, holding you in place as he cums, spurting warm inside you until he’s finished.

After a few minutes, he lifts you up and off his semi-hard cock, rubbing his knuckles directly over your cheek, a tender caress that makes your eyes close in response.

“Now, get on your knees and suck my cock until it’s clean.”

“Sam,” you start, watching the subtitles on the muted TV as a newscaster talks about the upcoming election. “Why am I here?”

“What do you mean?” he responds, only half paying attention.

“I’m in your house, in your bed. You said you want to me stay all weekend. Don’t get me wrong, I want to be here, but I didn’t think you would want someone in your personal space.”

“I don’t mind having you in my personal space as long as it’s at my request.” He explains evenly, glancing up. “I’ve been busy this last week. My schedule is only going to get tighter. Weekends might be the only time we get to see each for a while. I won’t have time for the same interactions while I’m at work.”

“That makes sense.”

“Are you alright with that? Do you have a cat that needs to be fed?”

“No, no animals, no social life to speak of. We’re perfect for each other.” You smile and he grins looking back to the screen.

“What will happen to Max?” you ask, laying on your back staring at the ceiling of his bedroom.

“Do you care?”

“No. I’m sure he deserves whatever he gets,” you nod, the feeling of the last few days washing over you again.

“What happened to make him so upset?” Sam’s inquiry seems genuine.

“I turned him down. Some men are like that, for whatever reason they can’t handle being told no. Honestly, I had no idea he was that upset with me. I can only imagine what they all think of me. It’s so embarrassing.”

“You’re not the one that has anything to be embarrassed about.” His eyes go back the report in front of him, sliding the screen up but still talking. “Even if everything he said was true, it shouldn’t matter.”

He goes back to his work, reviewing some document that can’t wait until Monday and you lie there, pretending to watch a rerun of Frasier that comes on after the news broadcast.

“Sam, can I ask you something?”

“It seems like you’re going to regardless of my answer.” He glances at you.

“Are you happy?”

He stops, looking up and forward before turning to staring at you as if you’ve just asked him to hop on one foot.

“Is anyone?”

“I am.” You roll onto your side. “I mean, I’m not over the moon every day, but I’m content and I have moments of real, true happiness.”

“Why are you asking me this?”

“I was just thinking about you. I’m sorry if I shouldn’t have asked-”

“It’s fine.” He sets down the tablet on the nightstand and rolls onto his side, propping his elbow on the pillow. “No, I’m not happy in a traditional sense. I’m satisfied. I’m focused, I accomplish things no one else would ever be able to. There are a lot of things you have to give up to have the career I’ve had. I built something. I gave up happiness for success, it was a conscious choice.”

“Don’t you want more than your job?”

“No.” He shakes his head without hesitation. “When you add too much into the mix, things get messy.”

“Is that why you have me? I mean, you’re a pretty big deal. I can’t imagine you’re desperate for dates.”

“I don’t date, I have no desire for that. Having people in your life makes you unfocused, they’re distractions.”

“I’m not a distraction?” you inquire. A psychologist would have a field day with him.

“You are exactly what I need you to be. I’m not a robot. I have the same base urges as every other red-blooded American male, but instead of marrying the first pretty girl with long legs that liked my money, I decided to leave sex in its own category. My life is compartmentalized, things run smoother that way.”

“Do you have friends?”

“Not anymore.” His voices wavers, just a little but you catch it, trying your best to not let on. “For me friends are either a liability or a disappointment. I’ve never met anyone who didn’t fall into one of the two categories.”

“Geez, which one am I?”

“You’re not my friend,” he states, eyes narrowing. “You are a category all your own.”

“I’m not sure if that’s a good thing.”

#tedtalk!sam #Controal and release #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester smut #sam winchester fanfic

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