Hand to the short curly haired man upstairs, this hadn’t been planned. It started with a bit of fun, a small prank. Although now, at this new point in time, you couldn’t remember what possessed you to think of this, you had changed your name in Sam’s phone. It was suppose to be a minor inconvenience. One you could laugh off later. Instead of “Y/n” your name read “Destiny”. The joke was a lot funnier at two in the morning as you were rushing to think of something while Sam was in the bathroom. You returned to you separate motel room next door before he was done.
That’s where the real fun started.
Heard of destiny calling? Well guess who’s come along with times :p
You sent the text smiling proudly, then tossed the phone on the bed. You kicked off your boots, peeled away the sock, shed your jeans, shimmed out of your bra with a sigh of new comfort, and slid between the cool sheets of a clean bed. The phone vibrated as you got comfy.
Y/n, did you seriously change your name in my phone for a joke?
His reply struck disappointment.
How’d you know?
I can see the past conversation.
The heel of your hand slapped against your forehead. You groaned feeling utterly stupid for the simple oversight. The phone vibrated again before you could respond.
Where did you go?
You couldn’t help but smile at the tender inquiry. You caressed the text before responding.
My room. I’m in bed. Sorry I didn’t say anything. I was too busy trying to be sneaky.
It was elating talking to Sam like this. You felt down right giddy anticipating his texts. You saw him all the time, but it was rare to be given such a private and intimate chat space. You curled under the blankets clutching the phone tightly.
In bed, huh?
If Dean snores can I come share yours?
Your body grew warm as you stared at the words. It was a tease, and undoubtedly a flirty one. And one you felt sleepy enough to oblige. A thrill bubbled in your chest as you composed a text back. There was a line you were crossing, but in dead of the night that line faded to a faint shadow.
I don’t know. You might not be comfortable sleeping with me. I don’t wear pajamas.
Sent. It was just as suggestive, but sat just before the next line. This new barrier wouldn’t be so easily explained away the next morning. You imagined Sam sitting at the table in the next room bent over the surface, brows pinched together with concentration as he received your reply. Perhaps those brows would raise slightly in surprise. The thought made you chuckle.
What are you wearing now?
Your eyebrows flew up so fast the nearly launched from your face. Shock twisted into satisfaction. Your lip curled into a challenging smirk. The game of chicken was afoot.
Now? Just the shirt I was wearing.
Just the shirt? No panties?
No, I am. But I don’t have to be.
You finger swiped out the response before you could think it out. Time froze as you realized you’d danced across that new line. Your heart beat faster wondering if he would respond and how. Through the wall you could hear a chair scrape across the ground, the a door shut a few seconds later. Several minutes passed before his answer came.
Then take them off.
Jesus fuck. You groaned as you imagined his normally gentle voice turn commanding, whispering those words in your ear. Your hands shook as the skimmed down your body. Anticipation coaxed every nerve to stand on end, wanting, vying desperately for attention. Your thumbs hooked under the waistband, your core clenched as you slid the material down your legs. Your ass met the cool sheets instantly sending the overwhelming sensation of naughtiness through you. The apex between your thighs slickened. The panties fell discarded to the ground.
