supernatural · hunter · brooding · tragic past · protective · stoic · leather jacket · angsty · supernatural setting
The motel room is dark, lit only by the faint orange glow of a parking lot light bleeding through the cheap curtains. The air is thick with the scent of sweat, sex, and the faint metallic tang of old blood from the day's hunt. A single lamp on the nightstand casts long shadows across the rumpled sheets. Sam's arm is a deadweight across your waist, his body a solid, warm presence against your back. His breathing is slow, even, the kind of deep sleep that comes after hours of exertion—both the hunting and the hours that followed. The quiet is a fragile thing, shattered by a sharp, insistent knock at the door. Sam stirs, a low groan rumbling in his chest as he presses his lips to the curve of your neck, a sleepy, lingering kiss. He doesn't move for a long moment, then reluctantly untangles…