Supernatural - Chapter 55: IF | Sam × Murphy | Trigger Warning (Patreon)

[This is a parallel IF route involving blood addiction. It has nothing to do with the main storyline. Blood addiction will not be part of the main plot and will have no bearing on what happens next.

There's also some forbidden romance between Sam and Murphy, his brother's girlfriend (practically his sister-in-law, right?), as they cross a line behind Dean's back and face the inevitable moral crisis afterward.

It's in spectacularly bad taste. The author just suddenly felt like indulging in something morally questionable. If that isn't your thing, heed the warning and close this chapter now!]

By the time Murphy entered the room, Sam was nearly out of his mind.

He sat on the floor with his back against the headboard. The lights were off and the curtains drawn tight. Cold sweat had soaked the hair across his forehead, his breathing came hard and uneven, and even the hand resting beside his leg was trembling slightly.

The sight made Murphy's heart sink. She knew how badly Sam suffered when his craving for blood struck, but something about his condition this time felt inexplicably dangerous.

“Sam? Are you okay?”

His head snapped up at the sound of her voice.

The look in his eyes stopped her in her tracks, sharpening her sense that something was wrong.

She hardly ever saw him like this. No matter how angry or dangerous he became, he usually remained clearheaded enough to understand what they were saying and could still be talked down.

Now his green eyes looked frighteningly dark beneath lowered brows. His stare fixed on her so fiercely that it seemed he'd been holding himself back with the very last scraps of his reason for a long time.

“D-don't come closer.” His voice was hoarse.

Murphy frowned. “I can't leave you like this. You look terrible. Can you hold on a little longer?”

Sam said nothing.

She moved toward him slowly and crouched in front of him.

“Dean went to see Bobby, to find out whether he might have...”

She never got to finish.

Sam suddenly caught her wrist and yanked her toward him.

Completely unprepared, Murphy knocked her knee against the carpet. An instant later, his mouth was pressed hard against hers.

For a moment, her mind went blank. Of all the things she had imagined might happen, this wasn't one of them.

Sam had kissed her first, and he was nothing like the Sam she knew. The man kissing her with such desperate hunger seemed more like an animal that had gone too long without food.

At first the kiss even hurt. She instinctively braced a hand against his chest and tried to push him away. Sam paused for barely a moment, his breath burning against her cheek, before he leaned in again.

One hand cupped the back of her head while the other closed around her waist. His grip was startlingly strong, and his palm felt so hot against her side that she thought it might burn her.

“Sam...” She finally found a gap to speak, only for the name to be swallowed by another kiss.

Murphy was beginning to feel as though she couldn't breathe.

Her hand remained against his chest. She had pushed hard at first, but at some point the pressure began to fade, and her lips started responding almost without her noticing.

That only made the situation worse. Sam noticed immediately. Until then, he had seemed to be leaving her the smallest chance to pull away. The moment she stopped genuinely resisting, whatever little restraint he had left disappeared.

Murphy didn't even realize when he lifted her off the floor.

Her view lurched, and suddenly she was sinking into the mattress. Sam followed her down, his large frame casting a shadow that seemed to swallow her whole.

For an instant she thought this enormous puppy was going to crush her. She pushed against his shoulders. “Sam, you're heavy.”

He immediately propped himself up, reacting almost on instinct.

Murphy stared at him, wide-eyed. He was breathing so hard that she could feel every exhalation against her face.

Sam was staring back, his gaze moving from her dazed eyes to her lips, already reddened and swollen from his kisses.

“Murphy, can I?”

Murphy could no longer pretend, even to herself, that she didn't know what was happening. Nor could she find a better excuse for it. She simply raised her head a little and kissed the side of his neck.

That was all it took. The moment caught like wildfire, and there was no stopping it.

Sam took that permission and ran with it.

Until then, Murphy had mostly been swept along. Now she realized how badly she'd underestimated Sam, who had held back for far too long and now seemed unable to control himself.

She sank so deep into the bed beneath him that her breathing lost all rhythm. All she could do was tip her head back and gasp for air whenever she got the chance.

Sam was unnaturally warm. She could feel his muscles straining even through their clothes, and when his hand tightened around her waist, she thought he might pull her entirely into his arms.

Something seemed to fall from the headboard when the bed jolted, but neither of them had any attention to spare for it.

Sam was usually far too good at keeping up appearances.

Murphy had always known how tall he was and how much strength he had. Normally, though, his gentle manner hid both. He always knew exactly how much force to use.

This was completely different. The man who was ordinarily so careful with his strength clearly couldn't spare a thought for it now.

For some reason, that realization made her heart race even faster.

Her hand slid from his shoulder to the back of his neck, and her fingers threaded through his long, sweat-damp hair.

Sam went visibly rigid for a moment.

Murphy regretted it almost immediately. The gesture had plainly had the opposite effect from the one she intended.

“Wait...”

She had barely managed the word before he bent to kiss her again, his hand moving from her waist toward the hem of her shirt.

The shirt that had been relatively neat moments ago was soon in disarray. Sam's urgency left her bewildered, and by the time she realized what she was doing, she had already grabbed his clothes too.

His shirt was damp with sweat. Annoyed by the fabric getting in the way, Murphy tugged it upward without much care.

Sam cooperated so eagerly that he almost got himself stuck in it. Murphy had barely started to laugh before he leaned down and kissed the sound right out of her.

Their clothes quickly became a hopeless mess. Buttons, hems, and sleeves were all obstacles.

As soon as Murphy pulled some of the fabric out of his way, Sam seemed to take it as even clearer permission, and his hands grew bolder.

Her breath came unevenly as she clutched his shoulders and back. Yet she made no real attempt to stop him. Whenever he drew away a little, she was the one who pulled him close again.

Sam completely lost his head.

He buried his face against her neck, his heated breath brushing her skin as he moved lower. Murphy tipped her head back, her fingers still tangled in his hair. She felt utterly weak from everything he was putting her through, yet couldn't resist tugging at the remaining fabric in her way.

In the end, neither could have said which of them started undressing the other.

All that was certain was the growing heap of clothes beside the bed.

Murphy began to feel like a fish out of water, desperately searching for oxygen.

She could only cling to him and raise her head to catch her breath. The mattress dipped again and again under their movements. The pillow beside her had long since fallen to the floor, and the blankets were tangled beyond recognition.

Sometimes she heard Sam say her name. Each time his voice was low, as though he were checking on her, or perhaps simply couldn't help himself.

A few times, when Murphy thought she'd reached her limit, he immediately stopped and quietly asked if she was all right.

“...So now you're thinking clearly, huh?” Murphy could tell his condition was very different from when she'd first come in.

Sam stared at her flushed face. The wildness in his eyes was slowly giving way to a trace of guilt, but the circumstances didn't leave him much room to explain. He bent to kiss the sweat from her cheek, evidently with no intention of stopping again.

“Ah!” His next movement made Murphy suck in a sharp breath, leaving her unable to think straight.

There were moments when she genuinely thought they ought to stop.

But each time the thought surfaced and Sam pulled away even slightly, she reached for him and drew him back before she could help herself.

Neither of them could claim to be innocent now.

When everything finally settled, the room stayed quiet for a long time.

Murphy felt as if she'd just run a marathon. Exhausted, she lay buried in the wrecked bedding, still struggling to catch her breath. Sam looked no better. His long hair hung damp over his forehead, and his chest was still rising and falling heavily.

Neither spoke.

Sam looked down at her. The near-frenzy had left him, but he didn't immediately let go.

His stare made Murphy a little self-conscious. “What?”

He still didn't answer. He merely brushed the hair stuck to her cheek away, seeming suddenly more like the gentle Sam she knew.

An unexpected warmth stirred in her chest. Before she could make sense of it, Sam leaned down and gave her another soft kiss.

But the moment their lips parted, he shot upright as though he'd been electrocuted.

The sudden movement startled her. “What's wrong?”

Sam was silent for a long time before he finally forced the words through his teeth. “Oh, God... What have I done?”

Before Murphy could even join in condemning herself, his next words left her stunned.

Sam covered his face with a hand. “Dean trusts me. He even knows I have feelings for you, and this is how I repay that trust?”

“...What?” Murphy's eyes flew wide.

Sam was far too caught up in his guilt to notice her shock.

“He's known for a long time,” he said quietly. “But he never told me to stay away from you. He never even got angry with me about it. He didn't do anything.”

And Sam had gone ahead and done the one thing that would betray Dean most.

The more he thought about it, the worse he felt.

He bent to retrieve his clothes from the floor. Watching him look as though he wanted to vanish on the spot, Murphy finally spoke.

“Don't put all the blame on yourself.”

Sam paused. “Murphy, I was the one who...”

“Yes, you kissed me first,” she admitted readily. “But you know perfectly well whether I pushed you away afterward.”

For a moment Sam couldn't find an answer. Of course he knew.

Murphy's cheeks burned too, but she kept going. “Besides, by the time things went further, you were thinking clearly. So was I.”

She looked at him, her tone turning serious.

“So stop acting like you took advantage of me. What happened after that was something we both chose.”

Silence settled over the room again.

Her words obviously did little to ease Sam's conscience. In a way, they only made it worse.

They meant neither of them had an excuse.

Sam turned toward her. The guilt felt crushing, but tangled up in it was a small, stubborn sense of satisfaction he couldn't seem to suppress.

“...Do you think Dean's going to kill us?” Murphy pulled the blanket up toward her face and asked in a tiny voice.

Sam's expression twisted. He had no idea how her thoughts had arrived there so suddenly.

She felt rather guilty under his stare. “I'm just asking.”

“Murphy...” Sam still sounded miserable.

“Probably not,” she said, trying to stay optimistic. “He'd just beat you up first, at worst.”

Sam looked at her in disbelief. “Why only me?”

“Because you're his brother, and he doesn't hit women... right?” Even Murphy was having doubts by the end. In the original show, Dean seemed to have hit Ruby more than once.

She went quiet for two seconds before deciding, “Anyway, he probably wouldn't have the heart to hit me.”

Sam stared at her for a long moment, then covered his face again in despair.

Murphy couldn't hold back either. She buried her face in the blanket and laughed.

Well, great. Now they were all screwed.