CYOSTODA - Part Two: Dean Picks Dare
Characters: Dean, Leah, Sam, and Reader
Location: Motel room, Crappsville, USA
Word Count: 1205
Warnings: Swearing
Following on from Part 1 by @littlegreenplasticsoldier, where you get into a game of Truth or Dare with Dean, Sam, and their motel neighbour, Leah. You’ve just asked Dean Truth or Dare.
CYOSTODA Mastermess here
Dean’s staring at you, those gorgeous green eyes flitting over your face, and you can see the wheels turning, can practically smell the smoke. He locks eyes with yours as he runs his tongue over his bottom lip and you fight your urge to follow it’s path so hard you can feel your eyeballs shake with the effort. Dean smirks at you, like he knows full well what he’s doing to you, which let’s face it, he probably does.
“Dare.” he finally says, low and sure.
Shit. Shit fuck dammit. It’s too early in the night to just come out and straight up dare him to fuck your brains out. Plus, you know, desperate much? Yeah, no. Better think of something else, something more subtle.
“Alright, Winchester. I dare you to remove three articles of clothing from the person of your choice.” You give him your best flirty smile, trying like hell to hide your hope, “You can even pick Sammy if you’re scared.”
Sam laughs next to you, “Don’t even think about it.”
You glance over to Leah again, curious to see her reaction. She’s smiling, eyes hopping back and forth from Dean to you. She catches you watching her and throws you another wink, this one full of support. She straightens her spine and stares at Dean, confidence oozing from every pore, one eyebrow elegantly arched. Wow, you wish you could be so sure of yourself. You lift your glass, needing more liquid courage because no matter who he picks, you’re sure as hell gonna need it. Before the glass can reach your lips, you stop in thought. No one ever picks the person who actually wants to be picked. So why is she being so…? You flick your eyes over to her, confusion all over your face. She doesn’t look at you, eyes staying steady on Dean, the only sign she gives that she’s aware of you watching her is a slight smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. Son of a bitch, she’s good. You just hope he falls for it.
“Y/N.” Dean says just as you toss back your drink. You choke on the liquor, coughing as it burns your throat. Oh God, he fell for it.
He’s still smirking at you, the bastard. He motions at you, thumb jerking up. “Stand up, sweetheart.”
Abort! Your brain’s yelling at you. No, no, see where this takes you. Your vagina reassures you. Alcohol, more alcohol. Your nerves whisper to you. You take your nerves advice, moving to your hands and knees to crawl over and grab the bottle, chugging whiskey straight from the bottle. You catch Sam in your peripheral, his eyes on your lips wrapped around the mouth of the bottle. Jesus, you may end up regretting this idea.
You set the bottle back down off to your side, the glass thunking against the threadbare carpet. You pull your bottom lip into your mouth, worrying the remaining whiskey off the skin. Ok, you can do this. You push yourself up, wobbling a bit when the blood rushes from your head. Dean rises to his knees, as fucking smooth as ever, and shuffles over so he’s in front of you. This is a view you could get used to; Dean on his knees, staring up at you with wide eyes, fanned out eyelashes so long and thick you almost want to punch him, plush pink lips slightly parted.
You get a little lost in your thoughts, alright fantasies, until Dean’s hands on your hips yank you back to the here and now. He glides his hands down your thighs, thumbs reaching towards the inseam of your jeans and you have to put your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself. You were wrong, you can’t do this. Dean gives you a small reprieve as he runs his hands down to just under the knee, sitting back on his heels and tapping one hand on the back of your calf so you raise your foot. He guides you to place it on his thigh then runs his hands up under your pant leg. You find yourself thanking God that you had to wear your Fed suit yesterday and therefore had to shave your legs in order to maintain a truly professional look, this would be so much more embarrassing if you hadn’t gotten rid of the forest you’d been growing.
When his warm, calloused fingers make contact, you practically jump out of your skin. He chuckles lowly as he curls his fingers under the cuff of your sock and slowly eases it down and over your heel, lifting your foot off his thigh as he slides it the rest of the way off your foot. You don’t take your eyes off Dean as he twirls your sock in the air before throwing it somewhere behind you but you vaguely hear Sam and Leah laughing.
“Saucy.” Sam teases.
Dean just smiles as he straightens back up, hands falling on your hips again. He lets his fingertips play against the skin above the waistband of your pants as he moves to your belt buckle. Oh God. He watches your face as he works the buckle open, his eyes darkening as your breath picks up. He grabs the buckle and pulls, the leather making an incredibly arousing sound as he pulls it through the loops. He drops the belt to the floor with a thud and quickly stands up.
Your breath picks up even more when he gives the hem of your shirt a gentle tug and raises a brow at you. Oh God. Oh God, oh God, oh God. Dean’s looking at you so reassuringly, so...is that tenderness you see in his eyes? Or is that just the whiskey? Either way, you nod your head.
Dean grabs the hem of your t-shirt and the tails of your plaid shirt in both hands but doesn’t get any further than your belly button before Sam interjects. “That’s two pieces…”
“Shut it.” Dean points at him, stopping him before he even finishes his sentence.
Dean gets both hands on your shirts and starts pulling them up, the backs of his knuckles dragging against your sides. You shiver as goosebumps break out across your skin. He gets the shirt to your armpits and you lift your arms up over your head. You hear three different gasps fill the room as Dean pulls the shirt up over face and uncovers your breasts. Turns out leaving your sexiest, but least comfortable bra, as your last option until laundry day worked out for you this time. High five for procrastination! You shake your hair back when your head’s finally freed, looking up at Dean to see his eyes are locked on your breasts, following the lacy line over the swell of each one, tongue playing behind his teeth. His eyes meet yours as he drops your shirts to the floor, one hand coming up to brush his thumb over your cheekbone, he drops his gaze to your lips and leans in…
“Dean.” Sam says sternly. “There’s rules, dude.”
Dean rolls his eyes and backs away, grumbling. “You and your fucking rules. Ok, Leah, guess you’re up. Truth or dare?”
Leah picks truth, written by @revwinchester
Leah picks dare, to be written by @revwinchester (yeah, she’s doing both, deal with it)
CYOSTODA Crew tag: @winchesterswoonathon, @saenalife, @inkiestdawn, @curliesallovertheplace, @kreborn17, @winchester-writes, @kayteonline, @aprofoundbondwithdean, @moonlitskinwalker, @rizlow1, @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog, @sunriserose1023, @sammit-janet, @revwinchester, @notnaturalanahi, @babypieandwhiskey, @klaineaholic , @winchesterprincessbride, @ilostmyshoe-79, @mamalinda09, @butiaintgonnaloveem, @kittenofdoomage, @deandoesthingstome, @skybinx-blog, @gemini75eeyore, @ive-been-told-that-im-fangirling, @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid
Punzel’s Crew tag: @sis-tafics @salvachester @mrswhozeewhatsis @sleep-silent-angel @demberly @heckyeahjensenackles @luckygrahams @feelmyroarrrr @silver-and-green @demondeansdomme @savingapplepie-eatingthings @wheresthekillswitch @highonpastries @awhiskeywithawinchester @oriona75 @manawhaat @winchesterenthusiast @writingbeautifulmen @but-deans-back-tho @the-mrs-deanwinchester @supernatural-jackles @mamapeterson @misswhizzy @katnharper @nichelle-my-belle @sammit-janet @callmesatansprincess @ccpita @emilywritesaboutdean @xalgaliareptx @msmeghansolo @love-me-some-pie21 @carrollmomx3