Unwanted (Sam Winchester)

7

The arm holding you against his chest tightens even more so. It's not enough to have your back pressed to the wall, he also needs to cage you in between. No matter, you like it better that way. The hot and heavy kisses pressed on your neck feel like heaven, sending direct sparks to your crotch. His right hand travels downwards, giving a light squeeze to your buttock that makes you utter a whimper. The man takes it as an incentive to take things further. He taps your leg with his other hand, and you instantly hop onto him like a monkey. He doesn't hesitate to push you harder to the wall, and this time, his needy mouth finds yours in a fierce and filthy kiss.

Mr. Robinson is probably the best kisser in your entire life, not that you have a lot of experience being only 19 years old. He has the skill most boys your age lack and it's absolutely exciting. You've been wanting to kiss him for a while now, and today, after a 'meeting' with him, you've finally done it. You don't regret it one bit, well, at least not yet. Two days ago, the professor asked you to meet him in order to discuss your possible future as an English major. He mentioned you had potential as such. You honestly didn't buy the lie one bit, but if the significant stares at classes were any indication, you knew he wanted something else from you. So, you accepted the invitation and showed up thirty minutes ago. Things took a happy turn not long after that.

His lips on your skin are sinful and you know it. Mr. Robinson is at least twenty years older than you, and yet you cannot help the buzz of exhilaration that travels through your body. Technically you're old enough to be with him, but not by much, and he's still your professor. He studied with your father, he's your father's age! Your father... you cannot think about that right now. Not when this finely aged man is standing between your thighs. Oh, if Sam were to learn of what you're doing right now, he would be totally disappointed. Sam... The thought of your best friend halts your brain for a second, but your body doesn't seem to receive the message because you continue to kiss your English professor lavishly. He tastes so good, and the best part is that it's completely no-ties.

Making out with Mr. Robinson doesn't mean you're in love with him, in fact, you're definitely not. Still, you consider him incredibly attractive, who wouldn't want to devour a handsome man? And yet, when his hand starts to get bolder, you know now it's the time to stop or continue until the end. Slowly, you cease returning the caresses and kisses. He takes the hint and places you back on your feet.

"Umm, that was a good meeting," he murmurs sensually.

Right now, after kissing him, you feel incredibly awkward. "Yeah, um," you muster your most sexy side, "you think I have a future in English then?"

Mr. Robinson laughs charmingly, "you definitely do, but I think a few more private lessons wouldn't hurt..." His eyes scream desire, intentions clear.

At the prospect of spending more time with your professor, your heart starts beating faster. You're not sure if it's out of excitement or nerves. "Private classes do sound nice." His brown eyes twinkle in amusement. Boldly, his hand trails your arm. A chill runs down your spine. "It'll have to be another day, though. I've been here for a while and I need to go back to my dorm." You're not lying, as much as you don't get along with April, she's noisy as fuck and would definitely question if you're late.

Mr. Robinson doesn't like the answer entirely, but he complies, "I see." He gives you a disarmingly charming smile. "I will see you in class, miss." He steps away from you and returns to his desk without so much as a glance back at you.

For a second, you stand there dumbly, thinking he's going to say something else. The man remains quiet while he sits in his chair. You consider speaking yourself, but you're not sure what to say. Confusion clouds your brain at his changing behavior, though you decide to relate it to the fact that your encounter is forbidden and purely physical. It doesn't matter, you finally decide as you exit his office, and make your way to the entrance of the building. You have no interest in being with Mr. Robinson in a serious relationship anyway. In fact, you don't want to be like that with anyone right now. The last formal boyfriend you had lasted for one year and hurt you enough. Though, that's not precisely the reason why you don't want a commitment. You just can't imagine yourself like that with someone again.

The campus is pretty peaceful this time in the afternoon. No one questions your presence at the Arts faculty or at professor Robinson's office. It's pretty normal for teachers to receive students outside of classes, and it's still office hours. Nevertheless, if you plan to really visit him more often for ulterior motives, maybe going there all the time would be a bad idea.

On the way back to your room, your stomach grumbles, and you decide it's only wise to stop by your favorite coffee shop for a treat. You navigate easily to your destination and once there, you start looking at the menu as if you're not going to order your usual. You're so distracted by your previous encounter with your teacher that you only notice when you're waiting for your drink.

They're by one of the windows, far enough not to catch their voices, but near enough for you to identify them. Her hair is beautifully styled around her round cherub face. She's smiling widely at him, clearly happy to be there. You cannot see her full outfit, but from what you gather, she put some effort into her appearance. Delicate is the first word that comes to your mind when you see her. Jessica looks like a princess, and the way she gazes at him has your heart clenching uncomfortably. On the other side of the table, right in front of her, your best friend sits with a huge smile on his face. One that you know all too well. Sam reserves them for pretty girls just like Jess. Not unlike her, he has also decided to wear nicer clothes, forgoing the flannels he usually favors. Furthermore, Sam has his hair styled in a way that intends to be charming yet it's so unlike him, you can't help but stare a little longer than normal. He looks good, but it's not the Sam you're used to.

As you continue to watch their table, you notice that they're speaking animatedly. Very different from the way you remember them being at the frat party. He barely paid attention to her then. What could have happened to change their attitude so much? Sam didn't seem very interested in Jessica, and above all, he told you he wanted to focus on his schoolwork during freshman year. No girls, no dates, no distractions, was he lying? They appear to be getting along very well.

Your barista suddenly calls your name, letting you know that your order is ready. Your favorite dessert and drink await you at the table with your name written messily on the side. The concentration that you had on your friend's date is broken by the remainder of your hunger. You grab your stuff and approach their table. However, you don't make it very far because after two steps, you notice Jess's hand resting sweetly on Sam's arm. The gesture is innocent and gentle, but for some reason, even though you're feet away, you feel like you're imposing on something meant to be private. You don't dare to go closer to their table. Instead, you take cautious steps to the door. They're not near the entrance, but there's a bell on top that signals when one comes in or out. Neither of them looks up towards the sound, too entranced by the other.