✧･ﾟ:you’re restless. Restless and needy. And Dean’s just lying there, half-asleep with his legs tangled over yours and his fingers tracing near your thighs. He’s trying to be sweet and considerate. It’s been a long day. You know that—in his perfect little boy brain—he’s being a lovely gentleman. You’re tired. You probably don’t want to have sex, so he won’t ask for it.
✧･ﾟ:and he’s almost right. Almost.
✧･ﾟ:there’s that burning, dull ache between your thighs that you know too well. It won’t go away without some attention, but you also don’t want to go through all the steps of taking care of it. Touching yourself only works when you have time, and Dean isn’t going to touch you unless you make him. Unless you push him a little.
✧･ﾟ:it is always so fun to push him.
He kisses your shoulder, light and delicate. He might think you’re asleep, which gives you more permission to push it. If you just climb on top of him, he’s going to roll you off and tell you to rest. You need him to snap. To see how much you really need him.
You roll onto your side, pressing your face into the crook of his neck. Dean grunts, runs his fingers through your hair, and goes completely still. His touch is still featherlight. Like you’re something he’s worried he’s going to mar, or disturb. You’ve told him so many times that you’re not some flower he has to be careful of stepping on. He always chuckles and kisses you, but you know he doesn’t fully believe it.
Flowers don’t have teeth like you, though. You graze your lips over his throat, pulling a low, rumbling sound from his chest. He grabs your waist, fingers digging into your hips. You can feel the restraint in the hold. He doesn’t want to shove you away, but he’s trying to keep you both under control.
You let your tongue flick out, and there’s another one of those beautiful groans. He mutters you name, low and rough and not meant to be heard. It’s almost a prayer, broken and pleading. He’s trying to be a good man and keep you both together. All above board, sweetheart.
His breathing gets uneven, when you press your knee up against his crotch. You know that if you open your eyes, you’ll see his pretty mouth in a thin line, rubbing back and forth as he tries to glue them shut. You wiggle slowly, grinding yourself against his thigh, and his exhale is sharp in your ear.
There it is. Hard and proud, right against your knee. You push a little further down, just enough to draw a hiss from Dean’s throat. He’s holding onto you like a lifeline, as if you’re not the very thing trying to destroy him. His nose presses against your brow, and he takes a long, deep breath that ends in a wrecked, barely audible moan.
You roll over. Off his body. Almost to the other side of the mattress. Dean’s hands shoot after you, grabbing your shoulders, but then he pulls back. He still won’t wake you up. He’s still the perfect, loving boyfriend who’s going to let his girl sleep.
But you knew that. You planned for it.
You listen to him toss and turn for about a minute before he gives you what you want. There’s groaning, and shifting, and more groaning.
“Son of a bitch,” he mutters under his breath, and you bite back your giggle.
Dean had always had control over his body, before you. He likes to blame you every time he gets morning wood, every time he pops one in the middle of a case, every time Sam sees it in the car and threatens to jump out onto the freeway. You make me act like some pimple faced dork again, baby. It’s not fair.
Again, you know. You know Dean better than anyone. And maybe you abuse that, running your fingers over his inner thigh when you’re sitting in a diner booth or kissing the back of his neck in the car. But he’s too fun to play with, and it’s so fucking hot when he snaps. Sometimes you make yourself soaked just fantasizing about it. The gleam in his eyes and burn of his hands as he tosses you around like a ragdoll.
You hear the shift of cloth behind you, and a massive, quiet hand rests against your lower back. He’s not trying to wake you. Just trying to ground himself.
Then there’s the sound. The one you’ve been waiting for.
Skin slapping against skin. Dean’s fist, beating his cock back down. He grunts, fingers flexing near your spine. It sends a shiver through your body, and you push a little back.
A low, wrecked moan of your name chokes from Dean’s lips. He’s not wasting time, edging himself up. Just from the brutal, unrelenting pattern of his strokes, you can visualize him perfectly. His lidded eyes fixed on your body, his chest heaving and shoulders ridgid. The splay of his legs and his beautiful, thick cock, red and angry in his hand.
You should keep playing the game, but it’s too pretty an image. Another grunt of your name echoes through the room, and you can’t help it. You roll over, grabbing Dean’s hand in yours. He makes a noise of surprise, but doesn’t stop. And thank god for that.
Your imagination never does him justice. The slight curve in his dick, that you know always hits every spot inside of you. The precum smeared over his fingers, the way he’s so big he makes his own hand look a little small. You watch him pump himself, transfixed. Dean’s grip on your hand is tight enough to make your fingers numb, but you don’t care. You lean forwards, almost drooling with desire. He’s too handsome, lips parted and sweat slicking his chest.
He calls for you as he cums, white splattering all over his abdomen. You beam, scooting closer to rest your head on his shoulder. His muscles seize under your touch, when you trace your fingers through the mess. You bring his release to you lips, sucking it off your fingers. He makes a feral, dangerous kind of sound. You look up under fluttering lashes, and there it is.
That look.
“You’re testing it, sweetheart.” He rasps, and you smile.
“Am I?”
“Hm.” He scans over your open, needy features, eyes narrowing slowly. “You tryin’ to get fucked into next week?”
You nod, your smile hurting your face, and Dean groans.
“Jesus, you’re gonna kill me.” He mutters, and you giggle.
“We can wait-“
“No. I got hands.” He grabs your hips, hauling you over him, and you squeal with delight. “And you’re not gettin’ away with that stunt easy.”
✦Dean Masterlist - Main Masterlist - read on AO3!✦
✦Author's Note: request! this was very fun to write :)✦
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