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Special Occasion

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It was late morning, or early afternoon, Sam never really kept track of time when he was with Rowena. He woke up slowly and rolled to face her. She still slept, her curls spilling over the satin of her pillowcase, a deep blue-green color that made her skin, even in sleep, seem to glow. He leaned over to kiss her softly, and without opening her eyes, she shook her head. 

“Beauty sleep,” she murmured, and he couldn’t help but chuckle. It was an old joke between them, her insisting that at her age, beauty sleep was a must; and him replying that she could sleep all she wanted but she could never look more beautiful. 

He trailed his lips warmly over her jawline to the shell of her ear, where he whispered, “What if I make you tea?” That got her to look at him, the sleepiest of glances, and the tiniest nod. He got out of bed, pulled on jeans, and padded out to the kitchen barefoot.

Rowena had this electric tea kettle thing that turned out to be surprisingly handy for all the cups of tea she drank. The habit had grown on him, and this morning, he was preparing two cups of Five Roses. No sooner had he gotten out the teacups than he heard Rowena’s light footsteps. He turned around to see her yawning as she slipped into a chair at the table. 

“What?” he teased as he placed her tea in front of her. “Do you think I need supervision to make a simple cup of tea?” 

She arched her brows over the rim of the cup as she lifted the cup and lazily blew on the steam rising from it. He took the moment to look at her. She had slipped into a light green robe with swirls on it. Paisleys, maybe, he thought, but he wasn’t sure. He didn’t have the words for half the things she wore. He didn’t have the words for her.

“Can I have a biscuit, my dear?” Her request interrupted his thoughts. 

Sam shook his head but obeyed. As he set the tin of shortbread down on the table, he asked her, “You always get whatever you want, don’t you?”

“As long as you’re here to give it to me,” she retorted. The glint in her green eyes, the saucy curve of her lips, hinted at much more than tea and biscuits. 

Instead of answering, he bent to kiss her. His hand skimmed over her shoulder and down her back to pull her closer. The green robe was sleek under his touch. It felt good, and he took a moment to enjoy the sensation of smooth fabric against his calloused palms. “I like this. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it before.”

“Of course you haven’t.” Rowena acted almost offended at his suggestion that she would wear the same thing twice. 

Sam was pretty sure her closet was part of some magic spell, because there was no way this apartment had room for half the beautiful things she wore, even if some of them were nothing more than bits of sheer cloth and lace. 

“Too bad I just have to take it off of you,” Sam teased as he folded to his knees in front of the chair where she was seated. 

“Oh do you?” She lowered her gaze and batted her lashes, putting on the tiniest pout. She was flirting hard, but he was such a sucker for it. She took a long drink from the teacup. 

“Maybe not yet,” he murmured as he pushed the hem up over her pale thighs, parting them with his fingers before pulling her forward. He trailed kisses up from her knee to her warm center, and when his lips finally pressed against her there, he heard the cup hit the saucer with a shaky ringing sound. 

Rowena forgot about everything when she had Sam between her legs like that. He was so good, knew her body so well. Sometimes he drew it out, teased her, made her beg. Not today. He seemed as eager to please her as she was to be pleasured. 

He drew a soft orgasm from her easily with nothing but his lips and tongue. It was her first of the day, but she knew it was far from the last.

Rowena was still trembling when Sam scooped her up in his arms and carried her back to bed, her body warm and yielding under the robe. 

“You know,” she said as she settled back against the pillows, eyes wide and sparkling, “It’s not only women who can wear beautiful things.” 

“Oh?” Sam grinned, trying to think of what she could be getting at. “Do you have a me-sized robe in that magic closet of yours? Want to dress me up in something short and shiny?”

“Please,” she whispered, but if she meant, “Please as if I would waste the space” or “Please I wish you would” he didn’t know. Maybe please was a response to the way he was rising up over her, pinning her wrists back with his hands, nudging her legs apart with one knee to open her up for him. 

In the close heat of her desire, Sam forgot all about the conversation. 

But he remembered later, when he went back home to the bunker. Thinking about the whole thing made him feel some confusing feelings. A little curiosity, more than a little embarrassment, but also, if he was honest, kinda turned on. It wasn’t unpleasant, just unfamiliar. So one day when he had his laptop open, he started searching.

He had picked out lingerie for Rowena before, so he started on those sites, but it was very obvious very quickly that nothing there would fit him.

Then he typed in “lingerie for men.” For the most part, it was a series of very brief underpants, many of them paired with a collar or cuffs that were somehow supposed to indicate a character. He browsed with an increasing sense of confusion, wondering if Rowena wanted him to look like a cowboy or a Chippendale’s dancer. 

“Whoa there.” Dean’s voice startled him and he slammed the laptop shut. “When you said you were doing research I didn’t think --”

Sam leapt to his feet and turned to face his brother. He could feel himself blushing, but he may as well be honest. “It’s not what you think.”

“Look, dude, some of those guys are good looking. I get it.” 

Sam tried to nod and shake his head at once, and ended up just heaving out a big sigh. “It’s not that. It’s Rowena.” 

“Oh I should’ve known, that kinky little witch!” Dean laughed, head thrown back and shoulders shaking. “Wait. Do you really think she wants you to look like a Halloween store Village People?” 

Sam smacked his brother across the back affectionately. “Some help you are.”

Dean calmed down at that. He put one hand on Sam’s arm. “Think of what the lady wears. Slinky things, lace, garter stockings, right? That’s what she likes.” 

Before Sam could ask how Dean was so sure Rowena wore a garter belt, he was gone. Maybe it was obvious, or maybe it was that one case where she had hidden a cursed dagger in the band of her stockings. 

He waited, looking over his shoulder as he opened the laptop, and carefully typed in, “garter belt for men.” Ohhhh. Maybe it was because of how strongly he associated them with Rowena. Maybe it was because they were at once more serious and more soft than the silly outfits he found first. For whatever reason, he liked these more. They looked sexy. 

Sam ordered a bunch of things, not the incredibly complicated things that were mostly straps, or the leather things. He didn’t think he was ready for that. But he got a garter belt, and a couple of pairs of stockings. He got a few different panties, because how was he supposed to know if he liked briefs or bikinis? He ordered it all in black, because that was foolproof. 

He didn’t think he should be barefoot for this look, but he was also pretty sure he couldn't walk in heels. Instead he bought a pair of low heeled men’s dress boots, reasoning that he could always wear them when he was pretending to be the FBI. 

He remembered how much he liked the feel of Rowena’s robe under his fingers, so he got himself a short robe too. And with that, he gave himself an out -- if she hated this look, if he felt too silly, he could just put on the robe until he could escape to the bathroom and take it all off. 

Sam waited with nervous excitement until the packages arrived, and then he tried on his new things. He tore the first pair of stockings he tried on, and then a quick internet search informed him that he had to roll them up from the toes. He thought about shaving, but ultimately decided against it. He was already putting in a lot of work to look good. 

He hadn’t much thought about looking good before, or putting effort into appearing sexy. Clothes for him had always been a necessity, something he bought cheaply and used until they wore out. What he liked hadn’t ever mattered much. And buying something this impractical? It was an entirely new experience. Even the robe was more revealing and indulgent than anything he had ever owned. 

But he did want to do what Rowena asked, loved the idea of giving her a happy surprise. So he texted her.
When can I come see you again?

Friday. I’ll be out until dinner but you have the key.


He arranged for a late dinner to be delivered and got there early, giving himself plenty of time to get dressed. Belt and stockings, boots, a pair of satin panties trimmed with lace. He wrapped the robe over top, tying it shut at his waist while he waited. 

He found himself pacing the floor, listening to the strike of his heels. He kept the lights off but lit all the candles scattered around the room. He hoped he wasn't wrong. He hoped this was what Rowena wanted. He had paused for a moment to look out the window, trying to calm his racing heart, when the door opened. 

"Samuel?” He heard the surprise in her familiar lilting tone. 

Rowena knew Sam was there, sensed he was up to something. But never in all her three hundreds years had she thought she would see him all dressed up in bits of lace. 

“Ohhhhh,” she sighed softly. 

Even in her favorite fantasies, nothing she had imagined had prepared her for the way Sam looked. When he stepped away from her window, broad shoulders backlit by the city below, there was the slightest sway to his walk, a little sass she had never seen before.

When she untied his robe, felt the cool silk brush against his warm skin, and saw what he was wearing underneath -- it was all she could do not to fall to her knees in front of him right there. He had the longest legs she had ever seen, and yet the stockings fit perfectly, hugging the shape of his calves and his sculpted thighs. 

That broad expanse of bare skin, so warm and golden, framed in the skimpiest bits of black satin -- the contrast of his strength with the delicacy of the lace -- he looked like a god, and he was hers, all hers to worship. 

She wasn’t sure who moved first, him or her, just that suddenly she was in his arms, pressed up against the length of his body as he bent to kiss her, dark hair brushing her face before his lips ever met hers. She had always loved his height compared to hers, the way he could loom over her if he wanted, and his heeled boots only emphasized it. She slipped her fingers around his waist, enjoying the texture of fabric under her touch, and under it, the curve of his perfect ass. 


Rowena held out her hand and Sam took it, lacing his fingers in with hers and allowing her to lead him to the bedroom. She flicked on the bedside lamps to get a better view. Sam tried to stand in an attractive way but he had no idea how. As her gaze took him in from head to toe, he grew self conscious. 

"I'll bet I look pretty silly,” he said. 


“Silly, never. Pretty --” 

Pretty didn’t even begin to touch it. Beautiful, maybe, the way a piece of art was beautiful, an astounding specimen of the human form. She looked him over from head to toe. He tried to pose, the mighty hunter suddenly awkward, but she could see how he was trying, how every much he wanted her to like this, and it made him all the more endearing. 

When her gaze settled on his face, she saw hesitancy, as if he was afraid to disappoint her, but not a shred of shame. In fact, he looked almost proud, an impossibly delicious smirk curling his lips and pushing dimples into his sculpted cheeks. 

But there was more to it. Sam was so dead earnest, nothing silly or joking about him, only a burning desire to please. Even through his shyness, she could tell, he was also faintly aware that he looked amazing. He knew the effect he was having on her, was getting turned on by feeling desirable, and his kaleidoscope eyes sparkled with delight. 


Rowena laid her hand on Sam’s chest. He obeyed her slighted touch, settling on the edge of the bed. Then he drew her in close to stand between his knees, a familiar position that put their faces at the same height. 

“You like this?” he asked. The look she gave him, all sizzling desire, would’ve been answer enough. Her eyes and hands roamed his body before she finally spoke. 

"You have no idea,” she said, closing her sweet mouth over his for a passionate open mouthed kiss. She trailed her fingers slowly up his thighs, over the seams of his stockings, treating him to the most delicious friction as the delicate netting tugged and shifted over his legs.

"I had no idea,” he gasped. “Feels good, so good --"

But before he could finish the thought, she folded to the floor in front of him.  Her touch trailed under the bands of his stockings, sharp nails brushing his skin. She wound the straps of his garter belt around her fingers and twisted. He felt the close tugging friction all the way around his hips. 

Leaning forward, she closed her lips over him through the satin and lace of his panties. It was the most amazing feeling, damp and close but still muted by the silky fabric. All other words deserted him except for her name.

"Rowena." He sighed. "What --"

"Just enjoy this," she purred before her lips closed around him again. Her hands slipped around his waist and into the back of his panties to cup his ass. When she spoke again, she murmured the words against his skin. "Such a good boy, doing whatever I ask."

She pleasured him until he was breathing hard, until his fingers tangled in her long red curls, until he could no longer hold back a ragged moan. Then she pulled away, standing up to strip down to her own intricate lingerie. 

She tied his hands up with the sash from his robe before settling astride him. He tolerated that just long enough for her to get off, and then turned the tables with the sash around her shoulders, holding her close. The two of them reveled in each other's bodies and all the sensations of lace and silk. Over and over, orgasm after orgasm, curses and cries and laughter all mingled together. 

When they were finally sated, both of them long since bare before one another, Sam turned towards Rowena. She was already facing him in bed, freckled skin flushed, curls tousled and clinging around her face. 

“I always knew you liked the garter belt and stockings.” 

She just raised her brows and batted her lashes slowly. “I think you like them too.” 

He cupped her face in one broad hand and she met his kiss-bitten lips with her own, one more time. 

“Maybe.” He winked broadly. “But only for special occasions.”