Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Sam?” Natalie calls, as the entrance to the bunker slams shut behind her. “I got dinner!”

She descends the stairs, take-out bags in her hands and a bottle of wine under her arm. Sam rounds the corner and sees the bottle start to slip as she takes the last step. “Whoa!” He lunges forward to catch it before it can hit the floor then inspects the label. “What’s the occasion?”

She shrugs. “No occasion, just thought it looked good.” She dumps the bags on the table. “Oh, shit, do you guys have a wine opener?”

“Uhh…” Sam furrows his brow in thought because he and Dean don’t drink wine. He glances at the bar cart, but there’s only whiskey in a decanter and its matching rocks glasses. “Well, let’s see.” He walks to the kitchen with the bottle and Natalie follows. Once there, Sam rifles through drawers until he finds a very cool looking antique corkscrew. “A-ha!” he exclaims then sets about opening the bottle.

Natalie’s found paper plates and is looking for glasses for the Merlot. “Ooh, these are fancy.” She pulls two crystal goblets from a cupboard. They’re dusty from decades of not being used, so she quickly cleans them.

Sam’s still standing with the open bottle in one hand and the cork and corkscrew in the other. “Should we let it breathe, or…?” He looks adorably out of his element.

Natalie chuckles. “It’s a nine dollar bottle of wine. Let’s not get too excited.”

Sam nods and leaves the corkscrew on the kitchen counter and the pair makes their way back to the big table where the food is. “What’d you get?” Sam asks as Natalie starts to pull boxes from the bags. He fills the two glasses with the ruby liquid and is surprised by the feeling of anticipation.

“Indian – masala, curry,” Natalie replies. “Needed something warm and spicy.”

“Missing Dean?” Sam grins.

“Maybe a little,” Natalie gives him a small shrug and smirk.

Dean and Castiel have been on a reconnaissance mission in New England for over a week. Since Natalie met the Winchesters on a hunt and subsequently moved into the bunker four months ago, no more than a day had gone by without Dean using his hands and mouth and body to make her feel the most erotic things she’d ever felt. With Dean, it’s more than coming – not that they’re in love or anything. But Dean’s extremely sensual and really fucking thorough. Never in her life has she been so utterly satisfied by one man.

“Aww, he’ll be back soon,” Sam says as he hands her a glass and raises his own in a silent toast. They clink glasses before taking their first sips. “Mmm,” Sam hums with delight and Natalie smiles. They sit and dig into the shared dishes.

Two hours, a bottle of Merlot, and a couple glasses of whiskey later, Sam and Natalie are sitting in The Cave in front of the fire. They’re swapping hunting stories and laughing.

“Oh my god, he did not,” Natalie is cackling at Sam’s account of Dean telling an antique doll collector in Texas that Sam had his own collection in order to get into her house and question her. “What a dick!”

“That’s my brother.” Sam laughs and drains his glass. He’s feeling a little buzzed and enjoying the conversation with Natalie. He’s always really liked her. She’s tough, smart, and easy to talk to. It doesn’t hurt that she’s also really nice to look at. “I mean, as you can imagine, he was relentless about it, too. All the details about my alleged collection and the ‘tiny, little outfits’.” Sam rolls his eyes, using air quotes as he reiterates how Dean got them in the door. “Never a dull moment, that’s for sure.”

“Nope,” Natalie empties her own glass and reaches for the decanter to fill each of them up again. “Say what you want about Dean Winchester, but he’s definitely not boring.” She’s warm all over from the food and drink and good conversation.

Natalie finds herself studying the man on the sofa next to her. Sam is nothing like Dean. Two siblings could really not be more different. Where Dean is playful in the most unexpected moments, Sam is thoughtful. Dean has a quick temper and Sam is patient. Dean’s the superior fighter, but Sam is the one who finds the answers. To compare and contrast Dean’s brutality in a fight with his generosity in bed makes Natalie wonder…

She watches Sam sip his whiskey in silence, a small smile playing on his lips. He rolls his head onto the back of the sofa and closes his eyes. The leather creaks under her as she shifts to get a better look at him.

“You’re pretty hot, you know that?” she says, pitching toward him. “You and Dean are both hot, but you don’t look alike. It’s interesting.” Her voice betrays her. While she meant the words to be a simple observation, they sound like a come on.

Sam rolls his head to the side and opens his eyes to look at her. “Thanks,” he says, clearing his throat. Confusion fills his voice and clouds his features. He doesn’t quite know how else to respond. She’s hot too, but she’s Dean’s no matter how much they both protest that they aren’t serious. The daily sounds he hears floating from room 11 to 21 sound pretty significant to him.

“You’re welcome.” Natalie reaches out and combs Sam’s hair behind an ear with her fingers. Her hand lingers and Sam feels something stir in his gut. “Does this bother you?” she asks, her voice quiet.

He still doesn’t know how to respond. “I- I don’t know.” Natalie hesitantly moves into his space. Before he knows it, her lips are on his, warm and soft. It’s been a long time since Sam’s been with a woman and this simple kiss is readily turning him on.

He pushes a large, warm hand into her wild, chestnut hair. When she plays with her hair, flips it around, he fantasizes about winding the thick waves around one of his hands.

Natalie swipes his bottom lip with her tongue and he meets it with his own, as she climbs astride his hips. Sam instinctually bucks up into the heat he can feel through her jeans and his, tightening his grip in her hair. She moans into the kiss and shifts her position feeling how hard she’s made him. “Fuck, Sammy.” She grinds down on him and renews their kiss in a new angle and with a lot more tongue.

They shouldn’t be doing this.

Sam groans, pushing and pulling at her hip in an effort to bury himself inside her through layers of fabric and Natalie runs her hands up under his t-shirt. She explores the ripples and cuts of muscle under smooth skin. “Nat,” Sam breathes, finally coming up for air. “Nat, we have to stop.”

Natalie whines but concedes, dropping her hand from under his shirt. Sam cradles her face in his hands. “It doesn’t bother me, but… Dean.”

Natalie takes in the strain and sincerity in his face. His eyes are dark with want and he’s still so hard, but he’s stopping because he thinks it’s wrong. And she doesn’t have the heart to try and persuade him. “OK,” she says. “You’re right. And I’m sorry.”

“No, no,” he says, tilting her face in his hands to kiss her forehead. “Don’t be, I mean…” he nods to his lap. Natalie laughs a little and backs off him, rolling to the side into the corner of the couch.

She lets out a deep sigh and slaps a hand over her closed eyes. “Should we tell him?” she asks. She and Dean really aren’t serious, but Sam’s his brother and they all live together. This could be weird. “Is this gonna be weird?”

“Well,” Sam pauses, pondering, then takes a deep breath. “Yes, we should tell him. I’ll tell him.” He reaches for one of her hands. “But no this isn’t going to be weird.” He squeezes her hand gently and reassuringly. “We’re fine.”

It’s afternoon when Natalie finally makes her way to the showers. She brushes her teeth and washes her face before starting the hot spray of water. They really have the best showers at the bunker, great water pressure. She steps under the showerhead with closed eyes to wet her hair and let some of her hangover-tightened muscles loosen in the wet heat, before turning her back to the door.

Scant minutes pass before his velvet, teasing voice bounces off the tiles.

“Heard you got liquored up last night and tried to bang my little brother.” He closes in behind her, reaching around her for a bar of soap. She groans in embarrassment. “Now, now, Nat – nothing to be ashamed of. Sammy’s a good lookin’ guy, you’re a healthy, red-blooded woman.” He kisses the top of her head.

Trapped between his arms with his solid wall of a chest at her back, she watches as he lazily rolls the soap between his skilled hands, working up a lather. “Besides, I know how you get when you drink wine.” He chuckles low in his chest and she burrows back into him.

“It just happened, Dean,” she says, her voice a little raw from the hangover. She’s still embarrassed, but all she can think about his close proximity and the heat coming off of him. He’s always so warm.

He places the soap back in its dish. “I know, sweetheart.” Dean begins to slowly run his hands over her shoulders, digging his thumbs into the coiled muscles until they release, then down her arms, over her hips and ass, and back up her torso. When he reaches her breasts, he cups each of them in his palms as he lightly pulls and rolls the peaks between his thumbs and forefingers.

Natalie can feel that his dick’s already hard at the small of her back. She reaches up to pull his face into her neck. “I missed you,” she whispers. She turns her head to kiss his cheek, pressing her head into his temple.

“So I gather,” he rumbles in her ear before scraping his teeth over the shell. One hand keeps working her breasts as the other wanders down to the space between her thighs. She’s slick but not from the shower. “You get yourself off after, or are you still wound up?” He runs the tip of his middle finger through her slit.

She shook her head. “I didn’t.” He hums and trails kisses from her ear along the side of her neck and over her shoulder, using his teeth just enough.

“You want it quick?” He slides a finger inside her and she gasps. He settles the heel of his hand over her clit and presses in time with thrusting his finger, then two, inside her.

She nods. “Right now, yeah.” Her breath is shaky and her knees wobble. She braces a hand on his thigh so she doesn’t fall down.

“Put your foot up here.” Dean lifts her leg at the knee and shows her a small ledge at the base of the shower pipe. He drags that same hand back, skittering over her wetness as he goes. “Lean forward,” he tells her, and she does, bracing her hands on the wall in front of her.

Dean’s hands travel either side of her body over her ribcage, encircling her waist, and flaring at her hips. He finishes with one hand on her hip and the other guiding himself inside her, slow and steady, taking such pleasure in every single inch. He pulls back before he’s all the way inside, taking this one step at a time. He wants to spend more time on her, but she’s wound tighter than he’s seen her in weeks; she wants it now.

Natalie pushes back onto him, wanting him deeper or harder or both. She wants him to fuck her, and Dean prides himself on taking his time. Which she usually appreciates, but right now, she wants his cock deep and hard.

“Tell me what you want, Nat.” He strokes in and out of her, each inside push deeper than the last.

“Fuck,” she whispers and drops one hand between her legs. She’s already so close.

“What was that?” he asks, circling his hips to change the angle and create some friction for her. He can feel her tightening further and knows it won’t be long, but he wants to drag it out a little. He missed her, her sounds and smells and the feel of her. He pulls almost all the way out of her before delivering several shallow but solid thrusts. “Natalie,” he demands her attention. “Tell me.”

She whimpers. Sex with Dean is always incredible. He’s good at it and he likes it. She knows he’s holding out on her, though and she doesn’t want to wait. “Fuck me.”

He grins. “I thought that’s what I was doin’,” he pushes all the way in again, nice and slow and angles to just the right spot where he stays, rubbing himself inside her and one of his hands joins hers on her clit.

“Dean.” Her breath is ragged. “Hard. Now, please.”

She’s in a mood, he can tell. Hungover and horny, wants it rough. “OK, baby. OK.” So he relents.

Dean pulls all the way out, turns her and picks her up. Her legs automatically wrap around his waist, and he carries her to the bank of sinks. He’s kissing her as he sets her on the edge of the counter, loops his arms under each knee and lifts until her ankles are on his shoulders and she’s almost on her back. He finds his way back inside her and she sighs, bracing herself on her elbows behind her. Dean reaches for one of her hands and entwines their fingers on the countertop before he starts to move.

This time he isn’t slow and he isn’t gentle. But he hasn’t stopped kissing her as he fucks her into the counter. His free hand grips the back of her neck and his kisses become bruising. “Yes, yes, yes,” Natalie chants through teeth and tongue.

Dean’s everywhere at once and she feels so small. She has no leverage, but she knows she’s safe. Dean knows exactly what he’s doing. “Touch yourself,” he breathes. “I got you, baby, come on.”

He can still surprise her, too, which sends a thrill right to where her hand works her clit. He’s driving into her so deep and hard, practiced and with such intent, and when he drops his mouth to her neck to pull her delicate skin between his teeth she comes with a shout, her toes curling and her nails digging into his hand.

The furious clenching of her muscles around him set him off and he comes inside her as she rides her orgasm till the last wave.

Natalie tries not to slide off the counter to the floor, not that Dean would let that happen. He disentangles them, still peppering kisses across her collarbones and shoulders. Dean helps her off the counter and holds her hand, leading her back to the shower to rinse off. They stand for several minutes under the water, kissing and touching. They never seem to run out of hot water.

“Thank you,” she says. “I promise, once we get out of the shower, you can do whatever you want to me, but I needed that.”

Dean grins down at her before kissing the tip of her nose. “It didn’t suck.” She smiles up at him.

“Is Sam mad?” Natalie asks.

“At you? No.” Dean assures her. “At himself? Yes.” Dean releases her and crosses the room for towels.

“Ugh, it’s my fault.” She accepts a towel from Dean’s outstretched hand. “He shouldn’t feel bad.”

“Yeah, you vixen.” Dean smacks her ass as he passes her on his way to the door.

“I’m serious.” She follows him. “I feel terrible.”

“Sweetheart,” Dean stops her before they leave the showers. He sighs in earnest. “He’s not a kid. It was,” Dean motions with his hands and makes a face. “Whatever it was. No one’s mad or in trouble. Jesus.” He shakes his head and turns to walk out the door.

“If you say so,” Natalie replies and follows Dean out of the room. When she catches up with him, he takes her hand in his and they head to his bedroom for the rest of the afternoon.

Chapter Text

“Hey,” Sam greets Dean when he walks into the kitchen.

“Hey, man,” Dean returns, sniffing at leftovers as he rifles through the fridge for something to eat. He finds a take-out container and opens it with interest. “Ooh, Indian.” He digs the fork he has at the ready into the carton of cold masala and shovels it into his mouth with a groan. “Ugh, so good.”

Sam gives Dean a tight smile before Dean turns back to grab a beer. “So, uh… how’s Nat?” Sam asks. He’s tentative, doesn’t want to sound too interested, but doesn’t want to be insensitive either. He should talk to her himself, but hasn't had the chance yet.

Dean rolls his eyes into the refrigerator because he wishes they’d just stop being so weird. “Hungover,” Dean answers around a mouth full of food. “Feed her whiskey on top of wine again? That never turns out well.” He snorts as he passes Sam on the way to the wall-mounted bottle opener, beer in hand.

Sam winces. “Yeah, a little bit.” He isn’t sure why he feels so guilty about last night since Dean really doesn’t seem to care. He even told Nat himself that everything was fine, that they were fine. But every moment that passes is worse than the last. He stands in the middle of the kitchen rolling it over and over in his head.

Dean plops down onto one of the kitchen stools to finish his dinner. When he looks up at Sam, he notices the pained expression on his face and rolls his eyes again. “Dude.” Dean raises both eyebrows into his hairline dramatically. “What’re you doing?”

“Nothing.” Sam shifts his weight awkwardly and grimaces.

“Exactly,” Dean says. “And it’s a little bit creepy. Get a beer and sit down or something.” Dean scrapes the bottom of the carton for the last of its contents, as Sam sighs heavily, trudging to the refrigerator. Dean rolls his eyes again.

Once Sam has an open beer, he sits across the table from his brother. “Why do I feel so guilty?”

“I don’t know, man, but so does she,” Dean answers. Aiming then tossing the empty food container into the garbage, cheering for himself like a fan in a big arena.

“What did she say?” Sam asks with genuine curiosity.

“Same as you – feels weird and guilty, afraid you’re mad at her, blabbity blah.” Dean twists his empty bottle in circles on the tabletop. “What’s actually weird is that I’m the one reassuring you both that it’s all ok.” He gives Sam a pointed look.

“I know,” Sam scowls. “Sorry.”

Dean shakes his head then gets up for another beer. “Want another one?” he asks his brother.

“Nah, I’m good.” Sam raises his bottle and drums his fingers on the table.

Dean nods. “OK, I’m gonna try to get some sleep.” He leaves Sam alone in the kitchen and makes his way to his bedroom, where he left Natalie to rest.

Patience has never been one of Dean’s virtues and the little he has is running thin. He’s only been home for four hours and already he wants to lock them in a room together so they can hug (or fuck) it out.

It’s not like it’s news that they’re into each other. Dean’s watched them dance around their attraction since the day they all met. If anything, he should feel guilty for tapping her before Sam had the chance. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t have any reason to.

“You awake, sweetheart?” Dean quietly asks as he enters the dimly lit bedroom then closes it behind him. He can hear her rustling, knows she’s awake, but wants to give her the time she always needs to come fully awake before he says what he has to say. He sets his beer on the nightstand before slipping under the covers with her.

Natalie curls into him. “Kinda,” she whispers into his chest.

“How’d you sleep?” he asks, kissing the top of her head and smoothing her hair.

“Good couple hours.” Natalie inhales his leathery scent and is instantly comforted.

Dean cradles her close and hums a faint tune, plays with the ends of her hair, twirling around his fingers. Natalie loves his voice. When he sings, it’s like a lullaby. She wishes he’d do it more often.

Dean thinks about the words he wants to say. He thinks about how she might react. He thinks about the way her blue-grey eyes can hold heat at times and turn to a chilling frost at others. He wants to keep them warm.

“Listen to me for a minute,” Dean begins softly. “I won’t pretend to know what exactly happened last night or what either of you wanted to happen.” Natalie is still as she listens. Her previous sense of peace from Dean’s simple presence is suddenly worried by his words.

“So if that means that you two…” Dean let his voice trail off for a beat because he wanted to be sure she understood what he was saying. “Want to be together in some capacity – well, then so be it.”

Natalie feels chilled. “Dean,” she pushes away from his chest to look up into his face. “You’re not- you don’t want me?” Her eyes are pleading.

“Nat, yes, I want you – all the time.” Dean cups her jaw and kisses her long and slow to reassure her and himself that what he’s saying is the right thing. After a few moments, he continues, “But, I can share, too.” He holds her gaze with the warmth of his own. “It wouldn’t be the strangest thing that’s ever happened in our lives. Plus, we need to take our happiness wherever we can find it.”

Natalie is wholly floored. Never mind the content of what he’s saying, his face – his eyes – speaks volumes. The love Natalie sees there, the generosity and raw honesty, is almost too much to bear. Dean has never been this vulnerable with her, ever, and she wonders how long this has been on his mind.

“Dean,” she whispers and feels her eyes well with tears. “I don’t know what to say.”

“If I’m wrong, say so, but don’t back down because you think I don’t want it this way.” He runs his fingers gently through her soft waves. “Don’t deny yourself because you think I’ll be angry or hurt – I want you both to be happy and feel…” he stops, trying to clear the sudden lump in his throat. “Nat, you make me happy. Sammy makes me happy. We can- can’t we make each other happy?”

“I really don’t know what to say,” Natalie replies, swimming in the depth of emotion in his eyes. “Did you talk to Sam about this?” She returns his caresses twisting her fingers in the cotton of his t-shirt.

Dean shakes his head. “I just got up the courage to say the words about five minutes ago.” He laughs nervously.

Natalie kisses him deeply. She’s still not quite sure what to say or do with what he’s just presented to her, but she knows what she wants right now and it’s all Dean.

She pulls him until he’s on top of her and opens her legs to him. She’s still nude from their shower and previous activities, so she focuses on getting him undressed, kissing and touching as she pulls his t-shirt over his head and pushes his sweatpants down with her feet.

Dean’s busy with his hands on her breast and between her legs, nibbling at her neck and collarbones. He slides down her body till his face is right where he wants it. Her legs are spread by the width of his shoulders and he uses his thumbs to open her before he takes a long languid lick of her from bottom to top, slowly and delicately circling her clit. Natalie buries her hands in his hair and rests her calves over his shoulders.

Dean hums into her, pushes a finger inside, she’s wet and soft and she moans so deep that he feels it everywhere. His tongue is on her and he twists his finger to slip and slide against her spot, adding a second, twisting, curling, pushing. “Baby,” Natalie sighs and tightens her smooth, strong thighs, squeezing him, and her hands in his close-cropped hair tug until it hurts. Dean moans and pulls her clit between his lips.

He slips his tongue inside her with his fingers, alternating, slipping. His thumb slowly works her clit as he holds her trembling thighs in place. Dean can feel her tense and tighten. He just wants her to let go. He just wants to make her feel good. He doubles down, shifts his position and moves her with him. He holds her down to the bed at her hips and he’s using every inch of his body, every ounce of his strength, his tongue and fingers and lips to fuck her into bliss.

“Fuck, you are so wet and so hot,” he talks around licking and sucking her with two fingers inside her cunt.

Natalie uses her fingers on her nipples and heightens the intensity. As many times as Dean’s made her come since he got home, you’d think she’d be worn to the bone. But Dean’s like a sweet treat – the more you have the more you want. She knows she’ll come any minute, especially if Dean keeps talking. “Talk to me,” she begs.

“I could fucking eat you for every meal and never want anything else.” The flat of his tongue presses against her clit and his fingers twist harder. “Make a mess, Nat. Come on.” The sounds he’s making and his voice and his words push Natalie over the edge and she gasps and shouts. Sometimes after so many orgasms and so much pressure and persistence from Dean, she does make a mess and this is one of those times.

She can’t even breathe as he makes his way back up her body, settling his hips between her thighs. The size and mass of his body make her feel small and warm in the best kind of way. When he holds her down, twining their fingers together, she feels so loved.

Dean wipes his face on the pillow next to her head before kissing her like he’d die if he didn’t kiss her. She never minds tasting herself on him, but he does it anyway.

Dean pushes inside her – all the way right away. “You drive me fucking crazy,” he mutters, running his nose the length of her jaw then kissing her mouth, pushing his tongue inside. “Want me to fuck you?” he asks, taunting her, swiveling his hips to pull back then pushing in hard. “Hmm?”

He’d taken his time earlier after the shower when she’d asked him to just fuck her hard and fast. Then in his bedroom, he drew her out four times, excruciatingly slow. “I’m yours, anything you want.”  She’s utterly at his mercy.

“Yeah?” he asks and she nods. “Then fuck me.” Dean holds her and rolls until she’s on top. He scoots toward the head of the bed so she can find some leverage. Natalie sinks onto him completely and settles around him as she braces her hands on the ledge behind his headboard. When she starts to move, Dean’s face lights up just the way she loves, his tongue darting behind his teeth, his cheeks flushed, and his eyes bright. Natalie dips her head to kiss him and he whimpers.

“I’ve got you, baby,” Natalie whispers in his ear before pulling the shell between his lips. “I’ll fuck you so good.” And then she moves, squeezing as she pulls up and grinding when she pushes back down. Dean groans and grips her hips, but just holds her, doesn’t guide her. He wants her to control this, needs it.

“Shit,” he’s almost laughing in the best way imaginable. His smile is blinding and his head is thrown back. He lifts his hips ever so slightly and Natalie squeals. “So good.” His hands are massaging her thighs as she rides him, making the sounds that drive him to the brink. “Nat, I’m gonna come.” He slips a single finger inside her with his cock and uses his thumb on her clit again. His finger and his thumb could almost be touching as they rub her into a frenzy.

“Dean, fuck!” Natalie sits fully upright, her hands cupping her breasts and rides him till they’re both coming out loud.

He gently removes his hand from between her legs and she folds into a slump on his chest. His arms encircle her, holding her tightly and he kisses her cheek. “I love you,” she breathes. “So much.” And he nods in agreement, nuzzling into her hair.

"Let's get some sleep, huh?" he says. "We can talk more tomorrow." He kisses her and kisses her until they're both dreaming.

Chapter Text

Sam trudges down the hall, passing Dean’s room along the way. He can hear them, hear her, and it’s like a punch to the gut. He slams his eyes shut and walks faster to get to his room.

He closes the door behind him and whips his shirt over his head, tossing it across the room into the desk chair, kicks his boots off and shucks his jeans to the floor. As he collapses face down on his bed in his boxers, he can’t get her voice out of his head.

“Fuck, Sammy.”

He can’t forget how she felt for that brief moment in his lap, hot and humid and writhing. Her hands were small but strong, smoothing over his skin, and then they were gone. He wants them back.

Sam rolls to his back, stretching and running his own hand down his chest and into his boxers. He grips himself, squeezing and pulling. He’s been hard since she climbed astride his hips the night before.

He strokes himself with one hand and pushes his boxers down his hips with his other, circles his thumb around the head of his cock and pulls. He thinks about what she’d feel like, he thinks about pushing inside her, holding her against his body. He thinks about the breathy moans he hears from room 11 as his brother fucks her on a daily fucking basis.

He lets himself think about what they could be doing right now, as he strokes and twists his cock and balls in his hot hands. If Dean fucks like he fights, he’d be brutal with her. Sam thinks about the times he’s seen bruises on her arms and hickeys on her neck.

No wonder she’s so loud, Sam thinks with a smirk.

He imagines Dean manhandling her, pushing her face down into the mattress, gripping the back of her neck so hard that she cries out, taking her fast and hard as she sobs his name. He chokes on a sob of his own, thinking about how Dean might call her his greedy, little slut, how she’d whine and buck back against him and he’d rain smacks over her hips and ass, leaving large, red handprints in his wake.

He thinks about her being so thoroughly fucked, as he spills hot cum over his fist.

Sam throws his arms wide as he catches his breath before kicking his boxers all the way off and using them to clean up. He hopes he can sleep now. He’s still buzzing over her, but the release should be enough to let him rest a little.

He tosses the garment to the floor and crawls under his blankets before clicking off the bedside lamp, willing his mind to quiet.

##

Gobsmacked. That’s the only word for how Sam feels. He can’t believe what he’s hearing.

“Say again?” he shakes his head and gawks at his brother.

Dean and Natalie sit across the table from him, Natalie in Dean’s lap, his arm wrapped around her hips. “It’s your call, man,” Dean says, glancing up to Natalie. “And Nat’s, but this dance’s gone on long enough. I say, fuck or get off the pot.”

Sam grimaces.

“Dean,” Nat scolds him lightly, then slides from his lap and rounds the big wooden table to approach Sam with a sigh. “Sammy, it wasn’t just the wine and I think we both know that.” She looks down at him from where she’s leaned her hip against the table.

Sam shifts in his chair. Her closeness sets him more on edge. This conversation might push him over. “Am I dreaming?” he says aloud.

Natalie smiles softly. “No.”

Dean clears his throat and his chair scrapes backward. “I’m gonna,” he motions toward the door. “Go... somewhere.” He snatches his keys and hops up. “Be back in an hour?” he asks, guessing that will give them enough time for whatever.

Natalie looks down at Sam again and they both nod.

“Cool,” Dean says with a nod, waltzing down into the foyer toward the stairs.

Natalie and Sam watch him jog up to the door and leave the bunker, the heavy steel door grinding closed behind him. Then Nat turns to Sam again. “What are you thinking about?” she asks, trying to jumpstart the conversation.

Sam shakes his head. The fog is starting to clear a bit, but he’s still stunned. “You,” he answers, raising stormy hazel eyes to her soft blue-grey, his jaw twitches and she feels it in her gut. “You’re all I can think about right now.”

Natalie reaches out to brush his hair from his brow. Sam closes his eyes, savoring her touch and her scent. Then he clasps a hand around her wrist. There’s a beat where they both just stare, then two. Then in a blur, Sam’s up and out of his chair and Natalie’s back hits the hard wood of the tabletop. Sam put her there, himself between her thighs, and his mouth on hers.

He kisses her in a very different way from the night on the sofa. There’s no hesitation in this kiss. It’s filled with heat and desperation. Dean’s kisses are always expertly executed with confidence and endearment.

Sam pins her arms to the table above her head and moves to kiss and suck at the delicate skin stretched over her throat and collarbones. Her mocha skin is soft and she smells like vanilla and coconut. She smells like something he wants to eat.

“All those times I had to listen to you and Dean,” his grip on her wrists tightens and she groans. His lips and teeth continue to tease at her throat. “I want to hear my name this time.”

“Sam,” she whispers, bringing her thighs up around his narrow hips, rolling up against him. He’s hard in every way, on top of her, around her wrists, and between her thighs. “I can feel you, Sammy. You’re so hard.”

He groans. “For you.” He kisses her full lips, licking inside, teeth scraping. He releases her wrists to pull her shirt open, scattering buttons across the glossy wood and yanks her bra down before attacking her breasts with hands and lips.

Natalie frantically unbuckles his belt and jerks his pants open. “Jesus,” she breathes. “So big, Sammy.” She pulls him out of his pants. Her fist barely encircles him, as she pumps and twists as best she can. “I don’t know if I can take you.”

Sam chuckles then stands, looming over her, tugging her pants open. “But you will,” he says. His jaw is tense and his eyes are burning, when he turns her onto her stomach. She grips the edge of the table, watching him over her shoulder as he shoves her jeans down just far enough to access what he wants – no, needs – right now.

Her feet dangle and she gasps when Sam pushes a finger inside her. He slips around in her wetness as he strokes himself, pushing in a second finger and twisting. Then he’s replacing his fingers with his cock, slowly inching his way in. He rocks forward and back a little at a time, as she stretches around his girth.

“Okay,” he sighs once he’s fully seated inside her. “Hold on tight.” Natalie reassess her grip on the table and steels herself.

Sam pulls out slowly but not entirely before slamming back in and they both groan. It takes a few more thrusts before he sets a rhythm and they’re both on fire.

“Nat, can you come like this,” he pulls out and slams in hard again. “Or do you need me to touch you?”

Natalie shakes her head. “Just fuck me, Sam.” With her thighs constricted by her jeans, she’s so tight for him and he’s running wild. She can’t help but compare and contrast with Dean, how Dean is always so meticulous, so measured; and Sam is just out of his mind.

He’s fucking into her so hard that the table is shaking underneath them. His fingers dig into her hips and he picks up the pace. “Nat, please come.” His voice is hurried and frantic, like his thrusts, and every time he pushes in, her clit is pressed into the hard table.

“Yes,” she hisses. “I’m coming.”

“Fuck,” he grits his teeth when she clamps around him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chants as he rams into her with every syllable until he’s coming, too.

He slows his thrusts and releases his iron grip on her hips, smoothing his hands up her body and draping over her. They’re both out of breath and sweating.

“Well,” she breathes. “That was fun.”

Sam chuckles into her neck then drops a kiss to her shoulder. He stands up again and helps her to her feet, drops back into his chair and stares at her as she rights her clothes. “You ruined my only white button down, you animal,” she teases.

“I’ll buy you a new one,” he says, grinning ear-to-ear. He tucks himself back into his pants and zips up. “C’mere.” Natalie smiles as she saunters over and plops down into his lap. Sam tucks an errant wave of her dark hair behind her ear. “This is gonna work, isn’t it?”

Natalie nods. “I think so,” she replies then leans in to kiss him tender and slow. He cups her jaw in his large hands, twining his fingers in her hair. He sighs into the kiss.

“Hungry?” Natalie asks when she pulls away from the kiss.

“I could eat, yeah,” Sam answers and they head to the kitchen hand in hand.

##

It’s dark when Dean finally makes it back to the bunker. About 30-minutes after he’d left Natalie and Sam alone, he texted them to see how they were and they said they were eating, so he decided to go for a beer and a burger.

He’s surprised to find Natalie in his bed when he gets to his room.

“What’s up, princess?” Dean asks.

“Just layin’ here, waitin’ for you,” she answers, stretching and rolling to her back, a sleepy smile playing on her lips.

He’s a little buzzed from his impromptu beer and burger night. He pulls his flannel off, shakes it out, folds it in half and drapes it over his desk chair. He sits in the chair to unlace and remove his boots. “Sammy wear you out?” he smirks, setting his boots neatly to the side and pulling his socks of before tossing them into his dirty clothes hamper.

“Pretty much, yeah,” she answers, feeling dreamy and so in love with the man disrobing in front of her.

Dean grins. “Good,” he says, pulling his t-shirt over his head and tossing it to join his socks. Then he’s unbuckling his belt, as he watches her closely. “How was it?” he asks.

Natalie pauses in thought. “It was really good, babe,” she replies. “Thank you.”

Dean shucks his jeans to the floor then kicks them up into the air, catches them, and goes through the same ritual as with his flannel. Then he launches himself onto the bed, bouncing to Natalie and she squeals with laughter.

“Get under the covers with me,” she giggles.

Dean dives in and wraps around her. “Mmm, baby,” he burrows behind her and nuzzles into the back of her neck. He sighs. “How come you didn’t sleep with Sammy?”

Natalie pushes back against Dean, reveling in his warmth. “I wanted you.”

“You want me?” he mutters, deep and rumbling.

Natalie nods, turning to face him, kissing him then pressing her forehead to his. “Thank you. I love you.”

Dean closes his eyes and inhales her scent. “Nat…”

She places two fingers over his lips. “You don’t have to say it,” she whispers. “I know.”

Dean shakes his head and pitches forward to kiss her to sleep.

Chapter Text

It’s been two weeks since Dean blew her mind by giving her the green light to be with Sam.

Not that she was unsatisfied; she didn’t want for anything with Dean. But sometimes you learn the full extent of what you never knew you wanted or needed. For example, she’s fully realized that she likes being dominated. On the other side of Dean as caretaker, Sam Winchester has a bit of a bossy streak.

“Exchange of power induces strong feelings,” Dean says, brushing his soft, full lips over her throat. “Had some experience with that myself in Hell – without the trust part, of course.” He presses a wet kiss to her collarbone and lightly nuzzles.

Natalie huffs a wry laugh. She hates to think of Dean in Hell, being so deeply damaged both physically and psychologically. But what he’s telling her is that he learned something important about life and about himself, which is the best thing anyone can hope for in a situation like that.

“Where I’m snaggin’, though, is… Sammy,” Dean pulls back and looks her in the eye. “Is dominating you ,” he states more than asks, even though he’s still not so sure how it all works. Natalie is a strong, independent woman and he can’t imagine her submitting.

She shrugs. “Yeah,” she smiles up at him where he hovers over her on the crappy motel mattress.  “I mean, you’re not exactly meek and passive, Dean.”

Dean’s made a habit of checking in with her after she’s with Sam. Mostly he just asks if she’s okay, if she enjoyed herself, and if she’s happy. This time, Natalie decided to offer details. She recounted the day before with Sam, texting her not to be wearing any panties by the time he got back to the bunker then gagging her with said panties and spanking her ass red before roughly taking her over the arm of the leather sofa in the library. He pressed her face so hard into the cushions that she still had creases on her cheek 20-minutes after.

Dean shakes his head and grins, swivels his hips to push deeper inside where he’s buried. “Point taken,” he says, kissing her. He rolls his head to the crook in her neck and gently bites her. “I can almost picture it and… fuck.” He slides in and out and around and kisses her more.

“Maybe-” she gasps with his thrusts. “Maybe you shouldn’t have to imagine it.”

Dean slows to a stop and looks her in the eyes again. “Like…” She nods and rolls her hips up into him. “Oh, Jesus,” he drops his mouth to her skin once more and meets her thrusts. In minutes they’re both coming with all new possibilities ahead.

When the three of them talk, it goes down much as it does when they talk battle plans; Dean, leading the discussion and doling out assignments. It’s clear that he’s the one in charge, even though Sam will be kicking it all off. The knowledge that she’s utterly submitting to the two most beautiful and dangerous men on the planet hits her square in the solar plexus. Nothing has ever made her so high.

“Nat,” Dean focuses on her. “Safeword?”

“Miranda,” Natalie answers, and Dean nods, gracing her with a small, eye crinkly smile and fingers tucking hair behind her ear.

“Browncoat nerd,” he mutters. “Hard limits,” Dean says, returning his gaze to Sam, eyebrows raised. “Blood, intense pain,” Dean shudders a little. “Really any bodily fluids or, like, excretions other than cum or spit – no.” Then he waves his hand in encouragement for Sam to take the baton.

“Umm, yeah, agreed,” Sam says, eyes darting between his brother and Natalie. “And I don’t think we need props or anything. Right?”

Dean glances at Natalie in question. “Not this time, no,” she answers. Dean smirks and Sam blushes.

“OK,” Dean says, slowly shifting his gaze from Sam to Natalie then back. “Sammy? You ready?”

Sam’s posture shifts and Natalie shivers. He turns his gaze to her and pushes his chair back. “Take your clothes off and get on your knees,” he says, rounding the table with a predatory gaze, with which she’s gleefully familiar.

Natalie stands and backs away from the table into the most open space of the room. She strips as both men watch, each circling in the opposite direction, Sam closest to her, and Dean on the outside. She finishes removing her undergarments and discards them with the rest of her clothes in a corner as Sam starts to unbutton his grey flannel shirt.

Once she’s settled on her knees, Sam moves in. He stops just a foot in front of her, hesitant, throws Dean a look, and Dean nods, continuing to circle them as he removes his heavy Carhartt work shirt and tosses it over the back of a chair.

Sam turns his eyes back to Natalie, who’s trained her gaze straight ahead at Sam’s hips. He takes another step forward so they’re almost touching.

“Open my pants,” he says, combing a lock of hair behind her ear, much like Dean had done moments before. Natalie thinks it’s an odd gesture, considering Sam’s typical lack of tenderness in these moments when they’re playing rough. She wonders if he’s doing it for Dean’s benefit and hopes he won’t hold back. She wants Dean to see the real thing – the gorgeous abandon with which Sam revels in her and their time together.

Natalie brings her hands to Sam’s belt and slowly pulls the brown leather from the buckle. She chances a glance up at him. His jaw is clenched, confirming that he’s definitely holding back. Normally by now, he’d have his hand buried in her hair to the roots, twisting so hard it hurt. She decides to push him.

She pulls the belt all the way from the loops before draping it around her neck, pulling the leather back through the buckle and handing the end to Sam. She hears Dean groan from somewhere behind her when Sam pulls the belt tight around her throat. “Pants,” Sam barks down at her. “Now.”

Natalie suppresses a grin as she sets to work on his button and zipper then pushes his boxer briefs down and out of the way, pulling his hard cock free from the cotton. She flicks her gaze back up to Sam, awaiting instruction.

Instead of instructing her, Sam does what Natalie was hoping he would. He grips his own hard length in his free hand and yanks her forward with the belt. She immediately opens her mouth and he hits the back of her throat in one thrust. She gags around him and grips his hips to hold steady.

“Shit,” Dean whispers as he appears in her periphery, pacing in a tighter circle around her and Sam. His eyes are on fire and he’s clenching and unclenching his fists. The visual makes her moan around Sam’s fixed thrusts.

“You take it so good, Nat,” Sam says, jerking the belt so it’s rhythmically constricting and releasing with his thrust. “She this good for you?” Sam looks up at his brother where he’s pacing.

Dean nods and hums. “Always,” he answers. “But I never fucked her mouth like that before. Should probably give that a second thought.”

“It’s fuckin’ paradise,” Sam grunts, releasing the last length of his cock and pushing down her throat. She gags around him again and he resets his rhythm at the new angle. She flattens her tongue inside her mouth and relaxes her jaw, swallowing steadily so Sam can feel every ripple. She knows what he likes.

Dean slowly kneels behind her, his knees bracing hers as he settles on his haunches, pushing her hair over the front of her shoulders, peppering kisses across her bared skin. “Hi, baby,” he whispers and she moans. He wraps one arm around her shoulders, holding her against his chest as Sam fucks her throat.

“Holdin’ her still for me?” Sam asks. It’s a rhetorical question because he’s obviously got her pinned in place. She isn’t going anywhere – not that she wants to.

“You got it, brother.” Dean slides a hand around her hip and down between her legs, slipping his long, thick middle and ring fingers through her slick and back up around her clit. His breath is in her ear. “Fuck, Sammy, she’s soakin’ wet.”

“She loves this shit,” Sam says, pulling on the belt.

Dean scrapes his teeth over the shell of her ear and pushes two fingers inside her. “There ya go,” he rumbles, pushing in and out of her slowly in overwhelming contrast to what Sam’s doing. “I know ya don’t like bein’ empty.” He kisses her neck. “Maybe I should use my cock and we’ll fill ya all the way up.”

Natalie shudders and she swallows against the cock in her throat and the flutter in her chest. She bucks her ass back into Dean and feels tears prick her eyes.

Sam chuckles and gasps. “Oh, she likes that idea.” He’s on the verge, his balls in his hand and the leather of his belt cutting into his other hand. Natalie’s a mess. There are tears trickling from her tightly closed eyes and she’s bucking furiously back into Dean. The sight of her being held in place by his brother, taking his cock in her mouth and Dean’s fingers in her cunt – Sam can’t hold on any longer.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” he groans, his thrusts wild. “Nat?” He wants her to swallow, but he won’t make her – not this time.

“Go ‘head, Sammy,” Dean says, his hand moving lazily between her legs. “She’ll take it. Won’t you, sweetheart.”

As Sam comes, Dean bites her shoulder where it meets her neck and she bursts into pieces. Dean’s cupping her cunt in his big, warm hand as Sam pulls out and she slumps back into the cotton covered wall of Dean. Her head falls back onto his shoulder and he brushes his lips across her heated skin and wraps both arms around her.

Dean looks up at Sam, who’s tucking himself back into his pants, attempting to slow his rapid, heavy breathing. “That was educational.” He tucks his chin to look down at Natalie, wiping partially dried tears from her eyes. “You okay?” Natalie nods and rolls into his chest.

She’s physically fine, but she’s also overwhelmed with emotion and stimulation. She just sat in her boyfriend’s lap while his brother came in her mouth – and she liked it. A lot.

In her haze, she hears Dean mumble something to Sam about whiskey and not wanting to taste his brother’s dick on her lips as he cradles Natalie. Sam hands him a crystal glass of brown liquid and Dean puts it up to her lips. “Bottom’s up,” he rumbles.

Natalie takes the glass and slowly downs the whiskey, feeling the warmth spread, renewing and calming her. “Thanks,” she hands the glass to Dean, who hands it back to Sam.

Dean kisses her deep and slow, holding her face in his hands and she climbs astride his hips. Sam drapes his flannel over her shoulders as Dean wraps her legs around his hips, rises to his knees then stands. He walks them to the table and sets her on the edge, her legs still wrapped around him.

Sam is at her side then and her heart swells with the look in his hazel gaze. He brushes her cheek with three calloused knuckles. “Sure you’re okay?” Sam asks, concern pinching his brow.

Natalie smiles and nods. “Yeah, I’m good,” she says, cupping his hand in hers and kissing his palm. She hugs Dean’s hips with her damp thighs and Dean runs his hands up her bare legs, dipping in for another kiss.

“You did good, baby,” Dean says between kisses. “Now I’m gonna fuck you on this table while Sammy watches.”

For all the differences between Sam and Dean, the most powerful one that strikes her is the way they both make her feel loved, wanted, and cherished in vastly different ways. As Dean gently lays her back onto the wood, kissing his way down her body and between her legs, she remembers Sam in a similar position just weeks before – both instances burn her from inside out.

Dean licks her long and slow and places a soft kiss to her clit before standing again and pulling his black t-shirt over his head. Natalie’s eyes are full of exposed male skin covering solid muscle, and she grins.

“I am one lucky bitch,” she mutters. Dean chuckles down at her as he unbuckles his belt and Sam settles into a chair just three feet away. “You two are so fucking hot.”

Dean tosses Sam a look, as he works his zipper down and releases his hard cock from the confines of his pants. “She thinks we’re hot, Sammy,” Dean turns his gaze back to her, gripping her dangling legs at the ankles and lifting them to plant them on the edge of the table, trapping them in place. Then he kisses the inside of each knee, holding her blue-grey eyes with his green. “You’re beautiful, Nat.”

“Stunning,” Sam agrees. Natalie’s heart clenches in her chest.

She turns her gaze to Sam and watches him unzip his pants and pull himself out. He’s more than half-hard and the image makes her groan, as Dean guides himself inside her.

Her ass is right at the edge of the table and Dean’s pinned her feet with his hands. She imagines the shibari frog tie she saw as she paged through books researching that Japanese demon last month.

Dean works his way inside, swiveling his hips, and finally bumps against her back wall. He starts slow, shallow thrusts because she’s still tight with want. “C’mon, Nat,” Dean whispers encouragingly, kissing her knees again. “Open up for me.”

Natalie sighs deep and slow, arches her back, and runs her hands through her hair before wandering lower. She cups her breasts, pinches her nipples, dips a finger in her mouth to get it wet and repeats her motions around her areola.

“That’s it,” Dean praises, his strokes becoming longer and deeper. “Shit, Sammy, look at her.” Dean’s hands grip her ankles tighter and she meets his thrusts.

“The way she takes it every time,” Sam moans, pumping himself, his eyes burning her skin. “Such a good little slut.”

Natalie clenches around Dean and whimpers. “Whoa, she liked that,” Dean laughs as he pants. “You like it when Sammy calls you dirty names, sweetheart?” He releases her ankles and lifts them to his shoulders, bracing his hands on either side of her, hovering over her. Her hands rest on his chest as he starts to pound into her.

“Yeah, she does,” Sam groans, his strokes speeding up as he shifts in his chair. “She likes to be called names, likes to be treated like a common whore.”

Dean covers her body with his and kisses her before whispering in her ear. “Okay?” and she nods, so he pushes back up to watch her beneath him.

“You’re so wet right now, it’s fucking killing me.” Dean bangs into her harder than she can remember him ever doing without her begging for it. He pulls one of her legs over his head to meet the other and rolls her to her side so she’s facing Sam. Dean holds her knees together in one hand and grips her hip with the other, pumping into her.

“Dean,” she huffs with each of his thrusts. She can’t breathe, he’s fucking her even harder and holy shit it’s the best thing she’s ever felt. “Dean, fuck.”

“Sammy, touch her,” Dean breathes hard.

Sam stands to join Dean, sliding his hand between her legs and pressing her clit as he strokes himself. “Jesus Christ,” Sam swears. He turns to face the table, spurting white and sticky across the rich brown wood, rubbing her clit with his other hand.

Natalie watches Sam’s elated expression and feels Dean grip her hip hard. In seconds, she’s flying apart, and Dean isn’t far behind.

Chapter Text

Couple songs featured herein:

Only by Nicki Minaj with Drake, lil Wayne, and Chris Brown

Feelin' Myself by Beyonce and Nicki Minaj

After all this time, I give you Natalie:

As the weeks go by, they settle into an easy rhythm. There are rules, of course, but they make them together and they work. Since Dean’s pretty much a mind reader, he calls the shots and they’re all OK with it.

Natalie never sleeps in her own bed anymore, unless it’s the three of them – in which case, they do it in her room. She alternates between Dean’s and Sam’s beds, even if there’s no sex involved.

She discovers that Sam is a massive bed hog and she has to wake him up sometimes because he’s smothering her or shoving her out of the bed. Dean on the other hand always leaves plenty of room for her and she finds herself sprawled on top of him most mornings. When they travel, she doesn’t get her own room anymore because there isn’t any point.

In public, Dean and Natalie are both pretty handsy. She’s generally affectionate and Dean kind of likes marking his territory. He pulls her into his lap, slides his hand up under her hair and lightly grips the nape of her neck, and guides her through doors by the small of her back. Sam’s not into PDA, though, so she’s not as obvious with him – mostly just the occasional linking of arms and flirting.

Right now, they’re at some dive bar playing pool. Loser gets tied up when they get back to the motel. Sam is fiercely concentrating, incredibly focused, because he does not like being tied up – during sex or otherwise – and Dean’s winning. The whole thing is hilarious to Natalie.

“Sammy, maybe you should relax,” Dean chides, easily banking a shot with a cocksure grin. “I dunno why you’re so afraid of Nat tyin’ ya up. It’s fuckin’ fun.” He winks at Natalie and she stifles a laugh.

“I’m not afraid,” Sam snaps, watching Natalie circle behind Dean as he calls and sinks his final shot. “Dammit,” Sam swears under his breath and tries not to snap the pool cue in half. Natalie and Dean grin at each other but maintain their cool so as not to further irritate Sam.

Dean heads to the bar to pay their tab and Natalie tries to console Sam. “I promise we’ll make it good for you,” she says, hooking two fingers in one of his belt loops. He stashes their pool cues in the rack then looks down at her impish smirk. “Don’t be mad.”

He draws a deep then huffs it out. “I’m not mad,” he rolls his eyes. “I’m fine.”

“Let’s get this show on the road, bitches,” Dean waltzes past them on his way to the door and smacks Natalie’s ass. She squeals and giggles, chasing him to the car. Sam rolls his eyes again and follows.

Sam’s propped against a stack of pillows in the center of the headboard, wrists fastened to each post with the barest of slack, ankles fastened to the bottom legs of the bed frame with the same lack of slack. He’s barefoot and bare-chested and clearly uncomfortable with his predicament.

Dean’s casually scrolling through Natalie’s iTunes, sipping his beer. “Any requests, Sammy?” he asks, and Sam shakes his head and pouts, tracking Natalie’s every move with his eyes. “No?” Dean asks again. “Okay, Nat? How ‘bout you? You’re the one strippin’ – you should pick anyway.”

“Nicki,” Natalie answers without hesitation, testing Sam’s bindings. Dean nods, a pussy-eating grin slowly splitting his face. He finds what she’s asked for and taps play, placing her phone on the table next to the Bluetooth speaker, and ‘Only’ fills the room.

“Sammy, you’re in for a treat,” Dean says, and Sam thinks he’s being even more of a smug dick than usual. Dean drags a chair from the table, spins it to angle facing Sam, and plops down. “Ever listen to Nicki Minaj with this one?” Dean raises his eyebrows in question and when Sam shakes his head to the negative, Dean shakes his own head and whistles low and slow. “Reeeeally gets ‘er goin’, I’ll tell you what.”

“Is that so?” Sam’s eyes light as Natalie starts to sway to the beat of the music, wicked smile on her lips. She runs her hands through her silky hair and flips it up just for it to cascade back down over her shoulders. Then she blows Sam a mischievous little kiss. Her eyes are like the sky in a summer storm.

“Can’t wait to see what she’s got on underneath all those tight black clothes, huh, Sammy?” Dean shifts in his chair and Sam shoots him a heated glare. “Uh-oh,” Dean mocks seriousness. “I think my baby brother needs some cheerin’ up, Nat.”

She licks her lips and struts along the foot of the bed, grinning at Sam the whole way, running her hands down her breasts and belly over her thin black tank top. She places a booted foot on Dean’s chair between his legs. “Help me with my boots?” she asks coyly, and Dean’s grin couldn’t get wider as he sets his beer aside and accommodates her request. When he’s done, he tosses each boot over his shoulder behind him.

Once she’s barefoot, she turns her back to Dean and slowly unzips and unbuttons her black jean leggings, holding Sam’s gaze. As she starts to wiggle her hips and push them down, Dean slides forward in his chair and runs his hands over her skin as she bares it. She gets her jeans down and kicks them aside.

“Asshole,” Sam says to Dean, and Dean chuckles running one hand up between her thighs, briefly cupping her where she’s already wet through the silk.

As the next song starts, Natalie licks her lips in an exaggerated fashion and bites her lip, pulls her top over her head, revealing the matching red bra to her thong and tosses the top at Sam. She swears she hears him growl.

Natalie smirks. She sings along with Beyoncé and Nicki, feeling herself and spinning in slow circles, running her hands over her body with Dean’s.

Dean tugs at her wrist and she spins closer, between his knees and lets him touch her everywhere that he knows Sam wants to touch her. “She’s so hot and smooth, Sammy,” Dean breathes, sliding a finger inside the leg of her thong and running his knuckles along her slit. “And soaked.”

Natalie sighs and smiles, gyrates and writhes between Dean’s wide-open thighs, his hands move to her hips and belly, spreading her wet with his fingers. Sam can see it glistening on her skin and Dean’s. Then Dean slides back in his chair and pats his thighs, sprawling them wider. “Come on, baby, let’s give Sammy a real show.”

That wicked grin is back and Natalie backs into him, slowly bends at the waist, rests her hands on Dean’s knees, grinding into his groin. Sam grunts and pulls at his restraints, his jaw tight and twitching. Natalie moans and rolls her head back, straining the muscles in her neck, jutting her red-silk covered breasts and sharp collarbones.

Sam thinks the lap dance that Natalie gives Dean is Hell to have to watch – and he should know. Dean’s hand runs up between her legs repeatedly, rubbing the tiny patch of silk, darkened by her slick. She grinds her cunt into his hand and her ass into his groin.

When the song changes, Dean hauls Natalie back onto his lap, throws her legs wide over his knees, and pulls the silk to the side, baring her wet slit to Sam. Natalie rests her head back on one of Dean’s shoulders, wraps one arm around her his neck and slides her hand down to where he’s holding her thong aside.

“Show him what ya wish he was doin’ to you,” he says, burying his face in her hair, licking, kissing and biting her neck, holding her open so Sam can see everything.

“Sammy,” she whines and sighs, eyes closed, a dreamy smile playing on her lips. “I want your hands on me, your fingers inside me.” She pushes her middle finger inside herself and twists before bringing it to her lips and licking it clean. “I’m so wet, baby.”

“That’s right,” Dean yanks at the silk – once, twice, three times – and it’s shredded. “Tell him all about it.” Dean holds her in place by her inner thigh and pulls a bra strap down one shoulder, biting and sucking her sweat-slicked skin and she slides her hand over herself once more, between her dripping folds and around her clit.

“When I get my hands on you…” Sam groans through gritted teeth. She’s an obscene display of lust, legs thrown wide, hand working between her legs, wet sounds accompanying the beat of the music, gripping the back of Dean’s head to push his teeth and lips further into her neck. “You’re a bad girl, Nat, letting my brother touch you like that.”

Dean chuckles again, pulling the cup of her bra out of the way, letting one breast bounce free. He cradles it, squeezes, pulls at the nipple between his thumb and one big knuckle, and she hisses, squirming, rubbing and pressing furiously at her clit. “And she knows it,” Dean says. “Don’t you, baby?” Natalie nods, gasping, her eyes fly open and she drills Sam to the bed.

“Oh, god,” she breathes. Her cry when she comes is unintelligible and loud, and she arches almost completely out of Dean’s lap. He wraps the hand he was using on her breast around her shoulder to steady her so she doesn’t fall and kisses her neck, bringing her down.

After a few moments of nothing but music and heavy breathing filling the room, Dean helps Natalie to her feet. The scrap of silk that used to be her thong falls to the floor and Dean pulls her bra the rest of the way off. His flannel and t-shirt and boots follow as Natalie crawls onto the bed on all fours until she’s hovering over Sam.

“You’re gonna pay, little girl,” Sam breathes and Natalie bites back a giggle. Her knees are touching his inner thighs, denim rasping her skin, and her hands are braced on either side of his heaving chest.

“She’s had a plug in since before we left for the bar,” Dean speaks nonchalantly as he climbs onto the bed behind her and between Sam’s legs.

It was Sam who discovered that Natalie really likes anal play. Since that experience, they’ve slowly worked their way toward the main event of the evening. They all agreed that they would be together the first time anything other than a finger or a toy came into play.

Sam watches as Dean’s other hand slowly wraps around her hip, and Natalie arches her back like a cat and bucks back into Dean. He chuckles low and deep and Sam tries to kick his legs with very little slack available.

“Both so impatient,” Dean scolds and Sam glares up at him.

“Fuck you,” Sam says and Dean laughs out loud, unbuckling his belt with one hand and sliding the other from her hip over her ass and down between her legs from behind. He pushes one finger inside her and another along her clit, and she moans.

Her wild hair and full breasts sway underneath her, intermittently brushing Sam’s skin as she fucks back onto Dean’s hand. Sam feels each touch like an electric shock straight to his dick and he squirms to get more.

“Natalie,” Dean says, pushing another finger inside her. “I want you to talk to Sammy – tell him everything.” Dean lazily pumps his thick fingers in and pulls them out, holding Sam’s fiery gaze with his own. “He can’t see what I’m doin’, baby, so you have to tell him, okay?”

“Sonuvabitch,” Sam snarls and Dean tries to hide his smirk.

Natalie nods and hangs her head. “Sam, it’s so good,” she moans. “His fingers feel so good and thick and warm- ahh!” She throws her head back. “But I still feel empty,” she whines, snagging Sam’s gaze from Dean. “I need more.” Dean’s smirk is on high-beam and she gasps and grins, eyes closing in bliss. “Yes,” she hisses. “He’s… oh, fuck, he’s pressing on the plug, Sammy. And, oh! Another finger. Dean, please?”

Dean draws a slow breath and nods, pulling his fingers out of her to guide himself inside with a loud groan. “Sammy, don’t think you’re the only one who had to wait,” Dean breathes, slowly pushing inside her cunt. “Fuck, Nat, are you coming?” Dean grins with surprise as she shakes beneath him, her hair and nipples grazing Sam’s sensitive skin.

“She’s so wound up.” Dean caresses her hip and slowly runs a hand up her spine, gazing so reverently down at her writhing form that Sam almost forgives him of his recent transgressions – almost.

Dean lets her ride it out, gently thrusting until she arches her back and bucks back onto him again. She’s still tight and anxious and he wonders if maybe they need to go with Plan B, as he finds the right groove and jams on it.

He wasn’t kidding when he said Sam wasn’t the only one who had to wait. This game they’re playing has all three of them strung out. Dean knows he isn’t going to last long, but he wants to get one more orgasm out of her before Sam takes over; he knows that part’s going to be intense for a lot of reasons and he wants her as relaxed as possible.

Dean reaches down between her legs and firmly presses down on her clit, catching Sam’s gaze, reminding him without words that this is the woman they love and cherish. Within minutes, Natalie’s coming again and her tight clench easily pushes Dean over the edge.

He drapes himself over her back and speaks low and quiet in her ear. “Okay?” 

Natalie hesitates briefly, breathing deep, then nods affirmatively.

“Everything okay?” Sam asks, concern tingeing his ire, as Dean rises to his knees behind her once more. Dean nods and Sam returns the affirmation.

Natalie’s still on all fours and Dean digs his thumbs into the tight muscles of her neck and shoulders, down her back, massaging her hips and glutes before working the plug out of her body. He grabs the bottle of lube from the mattress and immediately snaps the cap open and works it into her with his fingers. When she’s dripping and Sam’s seething, Dean backs off the bed, half-zips his pants and grabs a knife from one of the bedside tables to cut Sam free.

At the snap of the rope, Sam’s big left hand swings and Dean slaps the bottle of lube into it, holding his eyes one last time. “Be careful with her,” he murmurs before relinquishing the bottle to Sam. Sam’s nostrils flare, but he knows to take heed. This is play and it’s supposed to be fun.

Natalie unfurls slightly and shifts as Sam reaches for her and Dean rounds the foot of the bed to cut Sam’s right wrist free. Before she knows what’s happening, Sam’s got her around the waist and Dean’s released his ankles.

“Ah-ah-ah,” Sam scolds, kneeling then settling back on his feet, dragging Natalie into his lap to straddle him. Natalie hums, biting her lip and relaxing over him.

Dean catches her eye and is relieved to see the scared rabbit look he dreaded seeing isn’t there. He grins at her over Sam’s shoulder and she blows him a kiss. “There’s my girl,” Dean says, reaching for his beer and taking a heavy sip.

“I told you you’d pay, and I meant it,” Sam says, drawing her attention from Dean, tucking a heavy swath of her dark, shiny hair behind her ear. She shivers but her eyes are alight with fire. Dean can see all he needs to see – Natalie’s face, her reactions - so he settles into his seat.

“I’m gonna take your ass,” Sam says, his voice quiet and measured. “And no matter how badly you wanna come, you’re not allowed.” She gasps her mouth dropping open and her eyes on his mouth. Sam reaches behind her to pull her cheeks apart and slides a finger firmly down the opened cleft, easily slips it inside where Dean’s readied her, and she groans. “Not until I say.”

“Ohhh, snap!” Dean says, sipping his beer with glee.

Sam shoots Dean a glare over his shoulder. “The only reason you’re not getting gagged is that she likes it when you talk, so watch yourself,” Sam says.

“Bitch,” Dean mutters under his breath and hides a grin with his beer bottle. He likes seeing this side of his little brother – the take control side. He knows he overshadows Sam sometimes, and he always will, but this aspect fills him with a strange sense of pride.

Dean watches them kiss, slow and steady as Sam works her open further, Natalie squirming with pleasure, letting loose tiny sighs of satisfaction, her eyes on Dean’s the whole time. Sam pulls away and instructs Natalie to undo his pants and take him out and she does, lifting the condom from the comforter, unwrapping it, and rolling it over his length.

“Up,” Sam pats her hip and she rises to her knees. He positions her so that she can slowly drop down onto him, on her terms, just like they agreed. “Okay, slow and steady, Nat.”

And she starts to sink barely an inch at a time, stopping and pulling up. It’s excruciatingly slow for both her and Sam and excruciatingly good. “Oh my god,” she breathes as she rides down on him, pure ecstasy consuming her beautiful face.

“That good, huh?” Dean asks, leaning forward then back, shifting then finally pushing his zipper back down and gripping himself tight. “Sammy?”

“Jesus,” Sam barely grits out, rolling his head back.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’,” Dean chuckles. “All the way in yet?”

“No,” Sam grunts, gripping Natalie’s hips and trying not to push. “Almost.” He’s having a hard time breathing or thinking straight. He doesn’t want this to end too quickly, though, so he distracts himself with images of things that won’t make him come like a 16-year-old in the back seat of a car.

“Now he is,” Natalie breathes, head back, eyes closed, feeling everything at an almost cellular level. “Dean,” she breathes, bringing her head upright to look him in the eye, flipping all that hair, a gorgeous grin on her face. “It’s… amazing.”

She wraps her hands around Sam’s neck and begins to ride him in earnest. She’s covered in a sheen of sweat and the look of euphoria on her face sends a clear signal to both men.

“Sammy,” Dean rumbles a warning.

“Got her,” Sam stills her movements with a smack to her thigh. “Not yet, Natalie.” She pouts, even though she expected it, and he moves them so she’s on her back, so he can take the wheel. He lifts her legs over his arms and settles over, using his upper body’s strength to move.

Dean stands and moves to sit on the side of the adjacent bed. He strokes himself, watching her. He thinks about waiting for her, edging himself along with the rhythm Sam sets for her. He decides that he likes that idea a lot.

Sam moves in and out of her slowly, rests on one forearm, drags his other hand down between them and slips a finger inside, and rests his thumb over her clit.

“Sam!” Natalie shouts, arching off the bed, biting her bottom lip. She clenches around him, holding back, praying that she can, her mind racing and her body flooding with emotion and sensation. “Oh, shit,” she whispers, elated that she was successful at holding her orgasm at bay.

“Good girl,” Sam praises, dropping a kiss to her lips, nuzzling her neck, sliding another finger inside her and letting off her clit. “One more and we’re gonna move. It’s time for Dean play, too.”

Natalie moans and digs her fingernails into Sam’s shoulders. Sam picks up his pace with his fingers and his cock and brings her to the edge once more. He leaves her hanging there, breathless.

“Sam, please,” Natalie whimpers, squeezing her eyes shut and clenching her jaw, twisting her hands in her own hair. Then she reaches for Dean. “Dean…” she whispers and he sees tears of pleasure in her eyes.

“Shh,” Dean stands and shucks his jeans to the floor, sharing a glance with Sam before taking her outstretched hand. Natalie’s out of her head and needs to know they’ll both catch her when she falls – the moment is that intense. “I’m right here.” He smoothes a hand over her hair as Sam slowly pulls out of her body, kissing her before backing up so Dean can climb into the fray.

Dean settles back against the pillows where Sam started the whole thing and pulls Natalie astride his hips. As she settles over him, immediately guiding him inside her cunt, they’re kissing. She moans into his mouth and relaxes so fully that she’s like dead weight over him. It’s the kind of relief that’s imminent and when it finally comes it’s overwhelming. She has both of them now – the way it’s supposed to be.

Once Sam’s lubed back up and can see that they’re settled, he moves in, straddling his brother’s thighs, holding his lover’s hip in one hand and guiding himself back inside her tight heat.

It’s a slow transition, but when he’s fully seated, “Holy shit,” Dean swears for them all because the tension and stimulation and sensory overload is unlike anything they’ve ever felt together.

They’re still for several moments, Natalie’s head resting back on Sam’s shoulder, his hands swallowing her slight hips, Dean twining his fingers with hers. Then Dean moves. He pushes in as deep as he can go then pulls back. Then Sam pushes in and they set a rhythm.

Natalie wants to touch herself, wants someone to touch her because she desperately needs to come. But her hands are out of the game since Dean’s holding them in his own and Sam’s controlling her hips so she can’t grind into Dean. She laughs at the quandary she’s allowed herself to be lured into.

“What?” Sam asks huffing an almost breathless laugh, kissing her neck and shoulders.

“You two,” she gasps. “I have absolutely no control here.” The thought thrills her and she grinds into both of them.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Dean groans. “You have all the control.” His eyes flick up to Sam and Sam weighs the question in his eyes for a few sliding exchanges inside her before finally nodding.

Dean shifts his eyes to watch her as he slowly brings and hand down to where they’re joined. He touches her softly at first and she gasps, clenching around him. “Easy,” Dean breathes, stuttering. After a few more light strokes he presses two fingers down over her and keeps them there until she’s vibrating, a silent cry hanging from her open mouth; until she’s throbbing and sobbing and convulsing.

Then Sam and Dean let themselves go behind her and the symphony of voices and noises is rapturous.