Unwanted (Sam Winchester)

9

You find yourself in Mr. Robinson's embrace once more, a few days after your conversation with Charlie. You have to admit that there is something addictive to the way the older man looks at you. Maybe it's not psychologically normal, but you like it. A shrink might mention you have parental issues given your father's death, and they would probably be right. However, none of that matters as you cozy up in his arms. The desire that flows in your veins burns through your body as you straddle his hips sensually. Mr. Robinson's hands squish your ass in response. At least whatever is happening between you is mutual and casual. The bed creeks slightly as you shift positions to kiss him better.

This time, you convinced him to take you to his house, a bold move coming from you. You craved to see the home of the man that provoked many of your wet dreams. Much to your disappointment, there wasn't a lot to see in his apartment. Mr. Robinson is unmarried and owns a small flat near the campus. The place is decorated fairly minimalistic. There was something in the way that he brought you here that made you realize this wasn't the first time he did something like this. You aren't jealous, but you're somewhat disappointed. Still, it didn't take much thinking for you to jump his bones.

First off, you haven't seen each other -if you can call it that- for long, thus, you haven't really hooked up with him. Steamy make-out sessions, sure, but sex? No. You want to, you really do, but there's another part of you that doesn't. It's not about sleeping with a random man, after all, you did the deed with Brady shortly after meeting him, it's about something else that stops you every time you think about Mr. Robinson's cock. Is it the way he looks at you as if you're some sort of inferior thing? It feels as if you're being taken advantage of, and you don't realize it. Maybe that's what is happening.

Your brain is working overtime, trying to comprehend the mixed reactions from your body to his touches. For one part, you enjoy his wandering hands. For the other, you feel uneasy at his touch. You came to the house this afternoon to go all the way with him. It's the perfect opportunity since there are no distractions or time limits. He brought you here for a reason, and you know it. Nonetheless, when his hand attempts to undo the button of your jeans, your stomach drops. That's how you know that your friends were right and you cannot do this anymore. Especially not with a professor.

"Wait," you murmur at his lips, but he doesn't stop kissing you roughly. In a swift motion, he's on top of you; pinning you to the bed with his weight.

The rough kisses escalate with passion, you try to break away to tell him something, but he doesn't let you. He appears to be too lost in the sensations and frenzy to acknowledge anything beyond the way your lips mold in his. Still, you don't back down. When his hand approaches the center of your underwear under the jeans, you push him with renewed strength. Mr. Robinson parts from your lips, but his lips travel down to the collar of your shirt. His hand doesn't move from your front.

Stifling down a moan, you murmur, "wait, I don't want to continue."

Mr. Robinson continues caressing your body as if you haven't spoken at all. Your mind starts to work in overload, panic settling in. Why isn't he stopping? You're sure you spoke clearly. Despite the fact that you've been waiting for this moment for a while, now you don't desire to go through with it anymore. There's not any specific reason beyond the fact of your current lack of interest. As Mr. Robinson seems to forget about your own necessities, your mind supplies you with the repugnance and fear that you need to forcefully shove him away from you. He almost falls from the bed, not so much because of the strength placed in your movements, but because of the unexpected reaction. Nevertheless, his expression is not one of surprise, he seems rather annoyed.

"What is it?" His voice resonates harshly in the room.

"I- I think it's better that I go home now." You try to control the tremble in your words.

The look he gives you is a mixture between one of a child throwing a tantrum and a lion losing its prey.

"If that's what you want." The man simply states.

For a second, your eyes remained locked in a battle of wills. It feels as if he is daring you to leave. Through his gaze, he's letting you know that if you go now, things aren't going to be the way they are. He clearly isn't willing to understand your change in attitude. Maybe he's not used to rejection, or maybe he's really horny, and your absence would surely cost him more pain than benefit. Whatever is going through his head, you don't stay for him to change his mind. You stand up from the bed, and after finding your things, you rush out the door. The surprisingly cold night air greets you.

Without really intending, your feet walk a path memorized by now, and it's not to your dormitory. Sam's place is not near to yours, but it is not that far away from Mr. Robinson's residence. Your walk there is somewhat robotic, you're not really looking at your surroundings, and your mind is too distracted by the previous events to pay attention to anything else. You never would have thought that Mr. Robinson would attempt to take advantage of you. Sure, he didn't actually go through with it, but you fear what would have happened if he hadn't stopped; if you didn't make him stop. It's not a pretty notion to consider. When your affair with Mr. Robinson started, you were aware of the very high possibility of sleeping with him. Nevertheless, that didn't mean he had the right to take what he wanted from you whenever he desired.

You're so immersed in your thoughts that it's not until you're about to arrive at your destination that you realize it has started raining, and now you're soaking wet. The chills running through your body might be because of the cold, or because of the recent encounter.

Entering Sam's building is fairly simple since it's a boy's and girl's dormitory designated for law students. Some of the people in the halls give you a weird look, but beyond that, you make your way fairly fast. Sam lives on the fourth floor, the second door to the left, the one with the nerdish quote scribbled on the wood. It's easy to find since you've been there multiple of times. You feel an enormous sense of calm wash over you, looking at the familiarity of the place. You knock almost desperately on the wood, waiting for your best friend to open up. Any previous disagreements or doubts you might have had with him have been banished from your thoughts. The only thing you need right now is the comfort of your best friend.

The door opens and instead of looking at the gentle face of Sam, you see Jessica wearing a very suggestive dress and with flushed pink cheeks. At your appearance, her smile falters, only to grow tenfold shortly after. Not even two seconds later, Sam's face peeks over her head. Two things happen at the same time, one, Sam's eyes grow impossibly wide, and two, you realize the strange pressure that appears on your chest has nothing to do with Mr. Robinson.