Author: patriciatepes
Fandoms: Supernatural
H/C: backrubs/massages
Story Title: Close Quarters
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. It belongs to its respective owners. No money made here.
Word Count: ~600
Warnings: Spoilers for SPN S3 and S4. Very, very lightly described sexual congress
Summary: Set in between seasons 3 and 4. Sam realizes that even the tiniest things can get out of hand, if he's not vigilant.
Author's Notes: I'm, uh, not even a Sam/Ruby shipper. I'm not. But this is the second fic I've written for these two. I don't know. Much thanks to twisted_slinky for the help on this one. Written for
hc_bingo
Close Quarters
Sam clambered out the motel bed, stretching. He heard a bedspring squeak and turned to see that Ruby—now with dark hair and an altogether different face—was sitting up on her knees. The cut on her arm had long since healed, and they had both found some sort of clothing to cover themselves up with—her: his shirt; him: his pants. A muscle in his back twinge-d, and he stretched again, trying to get the thing to relax. Ruby arched a brow up at him.
"Problem?" she asked.
He tried to reach the problem area, sighing with aggravation. "I think there's a loose spring in this bed or something."
"Probably a lot, Sam," Ruby smirked.
"Yeah, well, I think I spent most of my time laying on it."
The smirk grew a little wider. "I did spend a lot more time on top, this time. Sam Winchester, who knew you liked Reverse Cowgirl so much?"
Sam felt a warming come to his cheeks, and he turned his face away. Somehow, blushing in front a demon like a pre-pubescent boy seemed like a bad idea. Hell, if Dean had ever seen him blush, it would've been pure cannon fodder.
He bit the inside of his cheek, blush gone. Thinking about your dead, Hell-trapped brother tended to do the trick. He sank down to sit on the bed's edge, rubbing at his neck now. He felt Ruby scoot closer, and in the next second, her hands were on his neck. He jumped, whirling to face her. She retreated via lean, hands held up.
"Looked like you could use a massage, Sam. I think we just confirmed it," she explained.
He faced forward again, feeling her hands rest on him again. He forced a breath out, willing his body to relax. Ruby began to knead at his aching muscles, going hard. He moaned a little.
"Ooh, I like that," she murmured, moving lower.
Regardless of the murmur that would've encouraged him in their previous engagement, Sam still found himself unable to relax.
She could kill me.
The thought floated, unbidden, through his mind. Of course, she could have killed him any time between when he first met her to right now. Where was this coming from, all of a sudden?
Her hands worked their way back up toward his neck, and Sam felt the growing need to be not here. He turned, suddenly, grasping her wrists. She blinked at him, taken aback. Her mouth moved, probably ready with some sort of snappy remark. But he didn't give her the chance. Suddenly, he felt the overwhelming need to be in control. He leaned over her, pressing her down onto the bed, and covering her mouth with his. She moaned, just for a moment, before pushing his gently back.
"You know, I can't give you another dose. Not this soon," she said.
"That's not what I want."
She smiled, and Sam proceeded to remove his own shirt from her body. He was careful, this time, not to let her take over. As things moved forward in their lovemaking, he was careful to make sure he was on top, in control, making all the choices. Because he had to make the right choices, now. For reasons he would not think about while having sex.
In the end, when they lay side by side on the broken mattress, Ruby let out a small laugh.
"Maybe I should give you a backrub more often?"
He forced a smile to his lips, keeping his thoughts on the matter to himself. He couldn't afford to make that kind of mistake again. Not now that Dean was gone, and he was alone, and there was no one to watch out for him. No, Sam would carefully avoid backrubs from the demon from here on out.