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whispersandwhiskerburn · 2 years

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Mr. Wrong

Summary: Inspired by the song “Right Kind of Wrong” by Piper Perabo, this fic stars a hunter reader who finds herself up against Soulless Sam and it leads to post-hunt fun. Same reader from this old Drabble. Request by: @feelmyroarrrrrrrr for my 2krequest2read celebration (sorry it’s taken so long!) Dialogue Prompt: “Could you possibly be more confusing?” Word Count: 1,670 Warnings: I tried to raise some sexual tension, but there’s nothing really explicit in this except some language. Author’s Note: I’m sorry that this took nearly three years to write. Most of it was done, I just expected it to t be longer with smut and got stuck. I hope you guys will forgive me and keep reading anyway. :) A special shout out to lorelailara and @deliciouslyshadowymilkshake who dropped me messages specifically looking forward to this fic. I hope it lives up to your expectations.

“Hey, Winchester! I’ve got a bone to pick with you.”

You strode across the crowded tavern, completely ignoring the older bald man sitting across from your long-haired target and the three hunters around them who stiffened at the challenge in your tone.

You were busy.

Sam turned slightly to face you, his eyes scanning you, at first as if you might be a threat, then again in appreciation.

You noted it, then noted your own response with a bit more surprise. It must be time to dial up someone in your little black book. You shelved the thought for now, then carried on with your reason for being there.

“You took my vampire. That hunt was mine, you selfish son of a bitch.”

He smiled, downed the rest of his whiskey then stood up.

Damn, he was tall.

You’d taken down bigger monsters, especially when your blood was up… but some of your adrenaline was now re-routing from anger to anticipation. The little smile on his face as he looked down at you was the trigger for that switch, but you didn’t intend to let him know it.

“Well,… whoever you are,… you snooze, you lose.”

You drew back to punch him in his smug, entirely too hot, face, but an arm grabbed yours, holding you back. One of the hunters in his group, a man.

Apparently, a stupid man.

You twisted, pulled his arm and shoved it behind his back, then kicked his knee so that it buckled. The hunter went down, hard, on the other one, his arm still held tight by you.

“Hey!”

Sam Winchester closed in, moving to protect his friend, and you released him, stepping back and balancing on the balls of your feet.

“Is there a problem here?” The bouncer for the bar was there, stepping between the two of you.

He was a civilian. You cooled your anger, lowering your hands.

“Nothing that can’t be settled if that one,” you pointed at Sam, “will take a walk with me in the parking lot. We have something to discuss.”

The man you’d sent to the floor had gotten up and taken a step forward glaring, apparently having learned nothing from his first embarrassment. Sam stopped him, putting a hand on his chest and pushing back towards the rest of his group.

“You know what, that sounds like an excellent idea. Christian, stay here. Samuel, I’ve got this.” He shot that same smile at you again, “after you, lady.”

You turned and walked through the crowd again, aware that most people were watching you, but not particularly caring.

Your adrenaline was pumping again. You lived for this—the thrill of a hunt, of a fight. It’s what being in this job had taught you: life was short and the best way to not waste it was to chase down every bit of excitement you could while doing some good in the world.

When you got to the parking lot you immediately took a right and followed the side of the building until you got to an alley, glad to have some privacy for this conversation, especially if it devolved to blows. You knew your temper. It was a distinct possibility. Sam was right behind you, fairly quiet for so big a guy, but still obvious enough that you knew where he was the whole time.

You stopped and turned a few yards into the alley, putting your back against the rough brick wall. Sam Winchester, that poacher of hunts, kept walking until he was a foot in front of you, facing you straight on, his face partially obscured by the dark and the shadows of the ally.

You felt a thrill shoot through you at his nearness and tried to hold on to your anger. “I know all about—” he took a step closer, mere inches from you now, “about your reputation, Mr. Big Bad Winchester. And it doesn’t impress me. Nor does it give you the right to barge in and take my hunt from me.” You ended your tirade by poking him in his firm chest. He was close enough now that it didn’t require much of a stretch.

“Well, if you don’t want it to happen again, you know what the solution is, don’t you?”

He edged even closer. Your breathing stuttered a bit as he hovered, with barely a space of four inches between your bodies, his breath mixing with yours in the warm night air.

“What’s that?”

He brought his hand up and gently caressed the skin over your collarbone, bare in the open neck of your tank top.

“You obviously have skills, so work with me. Then it will be our hunts and not a competition.”

“Could you possibly be more confusing? First you steal my hunt, then I don’t know if we’re going to fight or fuck. Now you want to recruit me?”

The ridiculously hot and tall hunter laughed, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. He moved your arms, which had been defensively crossed in front of you, and started gently undoing the buttons of your plaid flannel, his eyebrow raised in an unspoken challenge.

“It doesn’t seem all that confusing to me.”

You knew what he was doing—and damn if you weren’t about to let him. It might be a mistake, a mistake you’re making. But what he’s giving you were happy to be taking. Just being near the man revved your engines in a way that they hadn’t been revved in a long time. And you’d needed an outlet for a while.

“I don’t play well with others. If you want me, Winchester, you’re going to have to convince me.”

Your hands came up to rest on his hips, pulling him slightly closer. You licked your lips and were rewarded with a lingering glance at that spot as his eyes darkened. If this was a game of chicken, you weren’t going to blink first. Sexual attraction didn’t scare you any more than the supernatural did.

His grin was downright predatory. “Convince you, huh?”

Sam’s thumb was calloused, but soft somehow as it caressed the barest upper edge of your cleavage. Your hands were inching their way up his sides, dragging his layers of shirts up with them. You felt the warmth of his other palm settle on your hip as he met your eyes.

“And just how, exactly, would I go about doing that?”

Your hormones were mixing with the adrenaline, a drug that you’d always enjoyed. Sam Winchester was dangerous—more so than a regular hunter. His reputation was ruthless, intelligent, and according to the string of women he’d left behind him in the last few months since the almost-apocalypse, he was a great lover but being with him was bound to be a heart-break situation.

But it wasn’t your heart that was clenching as his fingers slowly slid around the waistband of your jeans, his thumb brushing the button at the top.

You smiled, the danger heightening the moment as you moved your hands around and up to link behind his neck, tugging him down to your level.

His mouth sealed with yours willingly, hungrily, but it wasn’t a kiss so much as a mixture of seduction and a dominance display. Your tongues warred with each other, teeth nipping at lips, breaths coming as pants. Sam hiked you up against the brick wall, pushing you against the rough texture as your fingers tugged on his hair and his hips ground into yours.

You’d never met anyone whose passion, whose fire matched yours. No one had ever made you feel the way you felt in his arms right now.

There was nowhere he could take you that you weren’t willing to go in that moment, and if he wasn’t willing to take the lead, you damn sure would.

Apparently this hot hunter saw no reason to slow down though. His large hand was under your shirt somehow, cupping your breast and tweaking your already-aroused nipple hard enough that it stung, but the pleasure swiftly followed. His hips were insistent between yours and you could feel the bulge behind his zipper. A bulge that you wanted to get much closer to before much longer.

You broke the kiss, gasping for air, overheating a bit in his closeness and the adrenaline and the warm night. He lowered you to the ground, his own breaths rough and heavy against your skin as he nipped, licked, and kissed at your neck, your collarbone, your shoulder.

His mouth began working back up the other side of your face as you caught your breath, your heart pounding in your chest, but his hands were working at the fastening of your jeans. Yours were digging into his broad shoulders holding on for dear life as he growled, downright growled in your ear, “yes or no, lady?”

You tried to gather your thoughts enough to answer. Did he mean about teaming up, or was he talking about—

One look at the hunger in those hazel eyes answered your question. And made your answer to his ridiculously easy to make: “Hell yes, Winchester.”

You reached for his jeans, ready and willing to take him, or have him take you, right here in the alley. You should probably try to run, but you just can’t seem to, because tonight, right now, wrong or right, you needed his touch just too damn much to walk away.

All of the tension--from your recent dry spell, from the last three hunts, to the coil of arousal that had formed in your belly the moment you’d gotten close enough to get a good look at the man who was currently tugging the denim down your hips--it all seemed to be building to an unbearable level, looking for an outlet.

And hot, quick, rough sex in an alley, while not your favorite past-time, would certainly get the job done at the moment. He was exactly the right kind of wrong for you in this moment.

Author's Note Pt 2: Sorry to leave at a cliffhanger but I'm a Dean girl and writing Sammy smut has never been particularly easy for me. I know it's been a while since I posted new writing, so I hope my forever tags find this okay. If your name is listed, but you didn't get actually tagged, it's because Tumblr didn't recognize the account.

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