Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader
Rating: Explicit
WC: ~2000
CW: sex, smut, dirty talk
A/N: While I pondered weak and weary over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten WIPs, this decided to go ahead and just manifest itself. Thank you @thoughtslikeaminefield for the beta read! Enjoy, my dears ❤
My back hits the door as he towers over me. That look - the glint his eyes that's a flash of intensity, hunger, and concentrated lust all at once - it makes me weak. I'm caged in with nowhere to run except headfirst into him.
Dean drags his knuckles along my cheekbone, following the curve of my jaw until his fingertips tilt my chin up. In the empty space of a heartbeat, I wonder what flavor he's craving tonight - soft, slow seduction, contentedly pretending he needs to learn my body all over again? Or are his eyes fixed on the prize, schemes and strategies set in place to break me wide open with practiced ease?
I barely have a chance to meet his gaze before his lips are on mine, telling me which it'll be.
He's attempting a bluff, trying to deceive me, but I know this kiss. He's playing wolf in sheep's clothing - holding back as he gently licks his way in and rolls his tongue against mine, suggesting restraint with how he cradles my face in one hand, casually letting the other drift along the side of my breast and down to my hip.
Playing my part of credulous prey, I let him coax me towards a trap I'm all too willing to fall into. I catch his plush bottom lip with a curious nibble, weave my fingers through his hair, and try not to revel in the heat he's surrounding me in.
The further he leans in and the deeper he kisses me, the more I give up the game and let him pull me under. Lips feather down the column of my neck, teeth sink into the curve of my shoulder followed by a lick to soothe the sting...whether it was a whimper or the way I've gone completely slack, he has me now, and he knows it.
Dean slots a thick, muscled thigh between my legs and softly grinds into me.
"Been thinking about you all day…" he mutters, pulling the friction back just enough to make me chase it, "all the things I wanna do to you…"
"Fuck you," I purr, with purely mock protest.
His work-worn hands slide beneath my shirt, rough but with a tender touch, thick fingers skimming just beneath the waistband of my jeans. Moaning, I rut against him, the seam of my jeans pressing just right against my clit as he pushes his thigh harder against my center. "Fuckin love when you get all desperate...should make you work for it…"
Chuckling, he flicks open the button of my fly, and the heat of his palm pulses against the already damp fabric of my panties. "Not yet, sweetheart...Jesus, already soaked for me, huh?"
"Dean…" I whine, digging my shoulder blades into the door as my back arches, “just touch me...make me come…”
“Tell you what,” he says, slipping a finger inside my panties and sliding it along my folds, “how ‘bout you just keep rubbing this sweet, little pussy on me. Get it nice and wet and warm till you get yourself off...” He takes back his finger and makes a little show of sucking it clean. “Then I’ll eat it till you come..”
We don't play this game often. It's not a power exchange or an assignment of dominance. It's a playful tug-of-war: a temporary peeling back of tender emotion, a moment of riding the high of freebase lust where we both give up and give in.
Gripping his shoulders I fasten myself to him, watching him watch me grind against his thigh.
“You love this, don’t you?” I breathe, rolling my hips smooth and steady, heat prickling through my veins with every pass. “Love it when I can’t help myself... when I turn into a needy little whore for you…”
He growls as I’m reduced to moans and whimpers, presses against me harder as I ride him faster.
The degradation flips the switch the rest of the way. It makes me feel naughty, like a dirty secret or a guilty pleasure, and sends me tumbling into a wanton haze. Dean follows suit, his expressions intensifying as he lets down his guard, and tells himself to take what he needs.
“Fuck yeah, I do,” he grits, “gets me so hard - hearing you beg for it, knowing I'm the one who's gonna give it to you…" he leans in, lips resting lightly on my ear. "God, you should see yourself...you’re close already, aren’t you?”
I manage a half-nod before my neck arches and my eyes close.
“Nuh-uh,” Dean splays an open hand beneath my chin and against my throat - no pressure or restriction, just enough to let me know it’s there. “Look at me…that’s a good girl, look at me and tell me how much you love this…"
My eyes fly open and lock with his, the deep jade hiding behind blown pupils and heavy lids. His nose twitches in a subtle sneer, pink tongue rolling over white teeth...it’s primal and almost feral, and makes the coil in my core tighten a hair's breadth from its breaking point.
He pulls back, taking nearly all the friction away from my throbbing clit. The filth rolls off my tongue, clipped stanzas of lewd poetry strung with broken prose. I claw at him, sidestepping and squirming to lock his leg between mine. "Love the way you look at me...makes me feel so good...love spreading my legs for you, letting you take...coming over and over for you...how you fuck me...swallowing your fat cock down my throat, your hot cum on my face...deep inside me.....so deep...oh God...Dean, let me come for you...so fucking close, please…"
Spinning us around, he finally gives me what I want. Leaning against the door, he grips me fast by my hips, guiding my movements and chanting his own cadence of debauchery, "that's it, that's my good girl, take what you need, yeah that's it…"
I cling to him, steadfast and go rigid as I come, quivering against the solid wall of his body. He holds me steady and hisses more praises against my lips, cautioning me that this was just a taste, something to take the edge off - he's nowhere near done with me yet.
The room whirls and I'm back where I started, pinned between muscle and wood.
My fingers fly to the hem of his shirt, gripping the fabric tight as I slide it up his torso. He takes the hint and pulls it the rest of the way off, rewarding me with the sight and feel of his warm, bare skin.
I set my hands to wander anywhere they can - the small of his back to the flat of his stomach, up his sternum and over the rounds of his pecs. I kiss his tattoo, swirl my tongue over one stiff nipple while grazing my thumb over the other. He shivers against me, and I grin before I lightly pinch and nip - it’s a shard of kryptonite, one of his few weaknesses that affords me a chance to seize the lead.
I nuzzle the slope of his shoulder and let my hand fall between his legs, grazing my palm against the firm, thick bulge I find there. He smells fucking incredible, like sweet, leather-bound cordite. Between breathing him in, and knowing exactly what he’s packing beneath this denim, my lips twitch and my mouth waters.
“More," I mumble against his neck, taking my own turn at marking him with my teeth. “Gimme your cock…” I’m too intent on getting what I want that before I know it, Dean is on his knees, taking my jeans and panties on his way down.
I kick them the rest of the way off and widen my stance. When I glance down, he seems transfixed, as though memorizing the invisible trail his fingertips blaze along my stomach, my hips, my mons. He blinks up at me with glassy green eyes, breathing a silent question through his perfect, parted lips that I immediately answer by spreading myself open for him.
“Holy fuck…" he whispers, carefully - almost reverently, pressing a callused fingertip against the hood of my clit before tracing the outline of my sex. My hands fall to my sides as I give in to being explored like this. He touches every part of me there, spreading my slick along and in between my folds, over every millimeter of my wet, tender flesh. Just when I think I can't take anymore teasing, he buries his head between my legs and breathes in.
"Smell so good…" he groans, then dips the very tip of his tongue inside of me. "Taste so good…" A finger breaches my entrance smooth and easy. "Feel so fuckin good…"
The flat of his tongue covers my clit, while he slides a second finger into my cunt. With a gutteral moan, I hike a leg over his shoulder and tangle my fingers through his hair.
Watching him lick me is so fucking hot - how his eyelids sometimes flutter as though he's savoring me, the sounds he makes when I flex my walls around his fingers, the drip of his spit mingled with my pooled arousal.
His fingers shift and scissor, and I gasp when they crook just right against my g-spot. He holds them there, so deep inside of me, and starts moving his wrist right as he sucks on my throbbing clit.
Its like being caught in a riptide. The things he’s doing, the way he's making me feel...it carries me away with a power that I can only identify as staggering. I can't think, move, form words...all I can do is moan loud and long and take everything he’s giving me until I break open.
It almost takes me by surprise when I come, the expectation and force of it so much more than I can anticipate. Somehow he keeps me upright, mouthing at my inner thighs as I twitch through aftershocks on shaky legs. Once I catch my breath and he's licked me clean, he's on his feet again, pressing his body completely against mine as he kisses me long and deep.
We kiss our way across the floor, shedding any remaining clothes on the way to our bed. He lays me down and hovers over me, smoothing hair away from my forehead and sliding his dick along the seam of my cunt. When he slips inside, just the first inch, our lips meet again and I feel the shift from playful to passionate. Moaning, he glides the rest of the way in until he’s fully sheathed in my heat, and laces his fingers with mine.
As small as our movements are, and as our bodies rock in languid tandem, each motion teems with meaning - every pull a fear too horrible to name, every push a fervent promise that they'll never come to be.
I look into his eyes, into everything that's behind them and on their horizon. They're telling me something he doesn't have words for, that consonants and vowels couldn't even begin to translate. With a small nod, I wrap my legs around his hips, my arms over his shoulders, and pull him as close to me as I possibly can. He comes with a shout, thick and hot inside of me, the pulse of his release detonating another of mine.
We lay and breathe together, with his head nestled in the crook of my neck, and my legs wrapped loosely around him. I trace the pattern of freckles on his back that I know by heart, lightly scritch beneath the short hairs on the nape of his neck, and revel in the feel of his weight on me.
When breathing is even and heartbeats have slowed, he pulls himself out and gathers me in his arms. And as this kiss burns through us both, white-hot and urgent, we spell out the word for love that only we understand.
~Fin
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