✧･ﾟ:it looks good on him. The ease of a life without danger, the peace of a world where he sleeps through the night with you tucked into his chest, then wakes up in the morning and makes a real breakfast, in a real kitchen, with a real job and a sense that this isn’t going to end.
✧･ﾟ:there are parts that he resisted at first. The hair was an issue. He’d shave every morning with the same military focus he’d had on the road, and make you cut it in the bathroom the same way you used to in the bunker. But then he’d sleep in, snoring and cuddling you like a teddy bear, and the stubble grew, and grew, and grew. You didn’t remind him of the haircuts. He glared at himself in the mirror sometimes and rubbed his jaw, but then you kissed right over his beard and ran your fingers through his hair, and he melted in a second.
✧･ﾟ:“i look old,” he grumbled one morning, holding you over him in bed. You giggled and kissed the tip of his nose. He scowled, squeezing your sides. “I ain’t joking, baby, I look like I’m damn near fifty-“
✧･ﾟ:“that’s because you are near fifty, De,” you murmured. “And I think you look very handsome.” You pet the top of his head, and he leaned into your touch. “Distinguished.”
“That doesn’t mean anything,” he grunted, catching your hand and pressing a kiss to your wrist, and you raised your brows.
“I think it means I like it, dummy.”
And that had made him falter. He’d looked at you like he wasn’t sure to trust it. And you knew he didn’t. He’d spent too long, thinking comfort was the one sin he wasn’t allowed to afford. So you’d just kept smiling. You kissed him deeply, and he melted, cupping your face and rolling you over with a satisfied half-grunt.
Maybe he was getting old. With the gain of a real grocery store down the street, he’d turned into a little of an obsessive housewife in the kitchen, and you were being served new dishes every single night. Without the hunting, he gained a little weight, but the mechanic work meant he gained muscle with it. You catch him frowning at the mirror after a shower, and you’re sure a part of him doesn’t recognize the man across the sink.
But you do. It’s the same man you loved when he was sharp and rough like sandpaper. The same man who’s heart you had to spend years unwrapping from the barbed wire, who you loved with every sting and groveling apology and mistake. He seems to think you’re going to leave, now that he’s gone all fuckin’ soft.
You just count it as a long winter that’s thawed. A spring that took a while to bloom, and now, a rich, eternal summer. And you’re not about to run, right when you can start reaping your rewards.
He feeds you better than you’ve ever fed yourself. He holds your hand in the house, like he’s trying to put some claim on you over the walls. He laughs loudly at stupid parties you have to attended, and charms all your neighbors, and stares at babies and cribs when he thinks you’re not looking, his fingers digging into your hip with a quiet, long buried longing.
The nightmares still come, but he slowly talks about what he can. He doesn’t go to therapy—that was a long shot anyway—but he lets you drag him to the doctor, and takes his stupid heart meds with a grumble and kiss of your forehead, as if you’re the only reason he’s bothering to keep himself upright and kicking. He makes friends that aren’t his brother, and doesn’t even fight with Sam anymore. He drinks a little less and drives a little slower. He knocks out watching TV, but still manages to wake up long enough to carry you to bed.
And bed alone is a reason to love him like this, just a little extra. A sliver that grows from the everything about his handsome, gentle face being inches from yours, the scent of his evergreen aftershave surrounding you better than any drug, massive, calloused hands tracing over your body like, even after all this time, he still finds himself awestruck at your beauty.
“My girl,” he rasps against your lips, and you believe it.
You believe it with the way you’re all but consumed by him, drowning you in his weight and heat. Thick biceps keep your legs shoved apart when he buried his face against your drooling pussy, his beard scraping and tickling your inner thighs. His tongue works you open and flicks against your clit. You tug his hair with a whimpering pleas, and he moans, deep and rich and hungry. Your eyes roll back in your head, the vibration against your cunt almost too much before you’re coming apart on his face, and he doesn’t let up until you’re trembling and gasping for air.
Dean kisses you with your arousal still clinging to his beard, and sinks into your cunt with low, strained growl of need. You hug him tight, barely able to do anything but take it. The girth and size of him was always right on the better side of too much. Now, with the extra strength, you fall into a mess with barely a few strokes. Dean handles you like a doll, flipping you onto your stomach and dragging your ass up in the air, folding his body over yours and kissing your open, gaping mouth.
“So fuckin’ perfect, baby,” he grunts, cock drilling into that gooey, needy spot with every stroke. “Takin’ it so good f’ me, my sweet girl-“
“De- Deean-“ You whine. “Please- Need to cum- Need it so bad-“
Dean grabs your neck with one hand and turns your head, kissing you deep and messy. He splays his hand over your tummy, pressing up into where his dick is splitting you in half, and the extra pressure is too much to bear. You cum with a scream, and Dean buries himself deep inside you with a low, rough groan. Sticky ropes of cum paint over your walls, your thighs, the mattress as it dribbles out of your over-stuffed cunt.
Dean kisses you slowly, in no rush to clean, in no rush to move. He rolls onto his back and you curl into his side, fitting against him perfectly and blinking up at him with worshipful, glossy eyes. He swallows, brushes the hair from your brow, and takes your chin between his fingers. He tips it up and kisses you slowly, savoring every time, satisfied hum from your lips.
Sometimes he still thinks he doesn’t deserve this, but he’s certain that you do. And if you’re happy with him like this—bigger and mushy and comfortable—then you can’t possibly be wrong. For the first time in his life, he really has all the time in the world. And he doesn’t plan to waste a second of it. Not when he has you.
✦Dean Masterlist - Main Masterlist - read on AO3!✦
✦Author's Note: request! i would give him such a happy lifeeee put me in coach✦
the harsh water pelts dean’s back, the splash lightly spraying your face, yet it’s the steam that suffocates you. the tile wall is cold to the touch, but it isn’t the reason you arch off of it. your nails dig into his shoulders as he fucks into you, your legs struggling to stay wrapped around his hips. the shower cushions the echo of skin clapping together, but your teeth sink into your bottom lip to keep from moaning too loud. too exhausted to drive back to the bunker in filth, the three of you had booked a room for the night. sammy was in the other room, waiting patiently for his turn to clean up. he wasn’t dumb; he knew exactly what you two were doing, especially when neither of you was as quiet as you thought. he heard every thud against the wall, every wet, squelching stroke, every fallen moan and groan you two shared. he rolled his eyes when he heard it begin, but now, after 10 constant minutes, he was annoyed. whimpers fall from your mouth, and your eyes squeeze shut, taking each slam of his hips. dean’s body presses flush into yours, keeping you still as he moves one of his hands that holds you upright to your clit. he rubs your button in harsh circles, eliciting sharp toe-curling sensations throughout your body. you’re so close you can taste it, and the way your breath hitches, dean knows too. the tight rope in your belly loosens with every thrust, and when it finally snaps, a straggled moan escapes ever so loudly. he unlatches his mouth from your throat and smashes his lips against yours, catching all of your cries.
BOOM, BOOM, BOOM!
the sudden action startles you both, almost causing dean to slip, and you to hush with a gasp. your heart no longer beats fast from your climax, but from sam’s abrupt pounding.
“there better be hot water left!” he calls from behind the door.
“yeah, yeah. we’re getting out now.” dean replies, his tone underlined with agitation.
he was right behind you, but his brother had to go and ruin it. he wasn’t leaving the bathroom until he filled you to the rim, making you wetter than the water that ran between and over your bodies. his hips resume their pattern, now working overtime to compensate for sam’s interruption. he moves his hand away from your sensitive nub and cradles the back of your head, pulling you closer so he can kiss you deeper. his tongue dances with yours, and you devour his groans as you gently pull on his drenched hair.
“you know i can hear you, right?” the youngest winchester scoffs.
dean hammers you into the shower wall, slowly pulling another orgasm out of you. somewhere between pure bliss and common courtesy, you make a mental note to apologize to sam later. dean, on the other hand, promises to do the opposite.
tags and warnings: another dean drabble. fluff, angst, unspoken romance, TOUCH STARVED!DEAN (my baby) dean feeling undeserving, you feeling otherwise.
summary: cleaning up dean after a hunt leads to a side of him you had never experienced before.
The motel room reeked of antiseptic and exhaustion.
A pale bulb swung from the ceiling, casting its weak light over the cracked linoleum floor and a man who refused to sit still.
"Dean," you warned, clutching the first aid kit in one hand and a damp cloth in the other. "Stop moving."
"I'm fine," he muttered, jaw tight as his green eyes darted anywhere but at you. Blood streaked his cheek, smeared and half-dried, blending into the stubble along his jaw. Neither of you sure if it was his or someone else's.
"You're not fine," you snapped, more forcefully than you'd intended. You softened your tone, getting closer. "Just let me help, okay?"
"I've had worse, this'll heal on its own." He smirked, but held a weariness in his eyes.
"Yeah? And what's your plan for the dried blood? Gonna wear it like a badge of honor?" You fire back.
He huffed a laugh, but when you reached out, he didn't pull away. Instead, he let you stand between his knees, close enough to feel the heat of him, close enough to notice the way his breath hitched as your fingers brushed his chin.
"Hold still," your murmured, your voice softening as you tilted his head towards the light.
Dean's gaze flicked up to you, and you could feel the intensity of his eyes even though you focused on cleaning the blood from his face. His expression was unguarded, vulnerable in a way he rarely let himself be.
"You're gonna fuss over me no matter what I say, huh?" he asked, his tone more fond than exasperated.
"Pretty much," you said lightly, dabbing at the dried streak. "You should be used to it by now."
He chuckled under his breath, the sound low and warm. He was comfortable. "Yeah, I guess I should."
You worked quietly, your touch gentle as you cleaned the wound on his cheek. Every so often, your fingers would graze his skin, and you felt him tense. Not from pain though, from something else entirely.
"There," you said, stepping back to admire your work. "Good as new. Well... almost."
Dean's lips quirked into a small smile. "Thanks, Doc."
"Don't get use to it." You rolled your eyes but couldn't help the grin tugging at your own lips.
"Too late," he said, his voice softer now.
The words hung in the air, and for a moment, the world outside the dingy motel room didn't exist. It was just the two of you, too close, sharing something unspoken.
"You should rest," you said, breaking the moment but not moving away.
Dean tilted his head, looking upwards to you still, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "What, you gonna tuck me in too?"
You swatted his arm lightly, laughing. "Don't push your luck."
But as you turned away from him, you heard him mutter, almost to himself. "I wouldn't mind if you did."
Your heart skipped a beat, and by the time you went to look back at him, his hand had gently wrapped itself around your wrist pulling you close to him.
You stood there, hovering above him, his arms snaking itself around your waist while the side of his head rested against your stomach. His breathing evened out, the tension in his frame finally began to dissipate.
Watching him from above, your chest ached in the best possible way. Though you didn't say it, you knew you'd stay right here, as long as he'd let you.
He nestled into you further, now one of your hands ran through his brunette head of hair, aimlessly.
"You don't have to do this," he said gruffly. His voice was low, laced with something unsaid.
"Yes, I do." You replied soft and gentle but full of intention like the embrace he had you in. "You never take care of yourself. Someone has to."
His arms tightened around you.
"You shouldn't have to," he murmured after a beat, so quiet you almost missed it. Almost.
"What does that mean?" You pause, your breath hitching. He looked up at you, his hands on both sides of your figure now. Your eyes locked with his finally.
"It means," he shook his head, exhaling sharply through his nose. "It means I don't deserve it. Any of it. This."
Your chest tightened in protest. "Dean."
"Don't," he said, a note of desperation breaking through his usual bravado. "Don't make this harder than it already is."
Your heart stuttered, torn between his pain and your own. You wanted to reach for him, to smooth the lines of worry etched into his face, to tell him he was wrong. But you couldn't, not with the way his walls shot up the second you got too close.
"Why do you do this?" he asked suddenly, voice hoarse.
"Do what?"
"Care," he said simply.
"Because I do."
He didn't look away this time, and it was almost unbearable, the intensity of his gaze. "You shouldn't."
"And yet, here I am." You replied softly, a single hand of yours gently touched the side of his face. His eyes fixated on you, longing for you as your gaze lingered.
"Thank you." His lips twitched, almost a smile. He didn't let you go however, he pulled you back in. The two of you stayed like this for longer than you could remember, but for him you'd stay like this forever. Just close enough to him.
❤︎ ' “want another round, pretty?” the bulky bartender leaned against the cool, rum-slicked surface with a crooked smile that all too easily gave away his interest in you. the whole twenty minutes you’d been in the dimly lit bar, he’d been catering to you more than he should. checking up on you, asking if you needed anything else, making your drinks with more precision than necessary. and it irritated dean to no end.
while you were sitting carelessly at the bar, he and sam had to follow a lead — questioning some other scruffy guy to get some information on a recent mysterious crime. but dean couldn’t focus. not really anyway. not with the way you seemingly flirted back with the bartender, entrancing eyes gazing at him. dean knew you were probably just having a little fun since that was rare for you, but it still irked him that the guy thought he had a chance.
“mh, if you’re offering.” you smile, not really serious. “coming right up,” he smirks, winking and already reaching for a new crystal clear glass. his black t shirt stretched around his muscles, bar lights illuminating his features. he was a fairly good looking guy, he’d give him that, but you were his. and dean hated that he couldn’t do anything about it at the moment.
but, during a particularly quiet moment between the conversation with this guy in front of him and sam, he overheard the bartender again.
“so, i get off in thirty. wanna go somewhere?” his fingers crawl dangerously close to yours on the countertop, too close for dean’s comfort. he was up in milliseconds, stomping over to you with a scowl. his hands find your hips, dragging you off the barstool. “she’s with me. back the fuck off.” he grumbles, hand sliding into yours to intertwine his fingers as he pulled you away with him.
“dean—” you gasp, almost laughing as you tried to keep up with his long strides towards one of the two single stall bathrooms.
he practically slams the door open, dragging you inside with a tight, but not painful grip. “would you have said yes?” he damn near growls. “what?” you catch your breath, the fruity smell of the air telling you what took place in the bathroom shortly before. “would you have said yes to goin’ with him? outta here.” he locks the door.
giving a small sigh, you shake your head no. “be serious, dean. why would i have gone? i don’t want him.” he stalks closer, the room feeling all too small now. “yeah? why not? who do you want, then?” his hands find your hips, pulling your body flush against his. instantly you’re able to feel the hardening tent in his dark wash jeans.
“tell me,” he urges, nudging your chin up with his finger. “you. i want you.” your voice comes out breathy, clearly already affected.
“that’s right. n’ im gonna show you just exactly what it means to be mine.” his voice was deeper and darker than ever before, spinning you around to face the mirror above the sink, walking you to the counter. “look at you… all dolled up and pretty for me.” he reaches around your shoulder, grazing his fingers across your jaw as he stares into your eyes through the glass.
you felt his warmth behind you, hard muscle pressing your hip bones against the sink. the bathroom was nowhere near sanitary enough, but dean couldn’t care less at the moment. his mind was solely on you and what he wanted to do to you right now.
“you gonna be good? let me make you feel good?” he tilts his head, leaning down to lick at your neck. when you nod, he smirks, pushing his hand into your pants, and past your underwear. “oh?” he looks up, watching your flushed face. “soaked already, baby?”
your hips rock against his barely-there touch, searching for more. “greedy girl. needed attention so bad, you let the bartender flirt with you.” he husks, spreading your pussy lips and collecting your arousal on the pads of his fingers. when you let a small moan escape you, hands gripping onto the plaster, he chuckles and drags his fingers up your abdomen, smearing your slick up your tummy.
“gonna fuck you just like this.” dean’s voice rings in your ears, accompanied by the sound of his belt buckle being undone. his pants are pushed down past his knees, pooling around his boots and your follow. he pulls at your panties, letting the fabric snap back against your skin before pulling them down your thighs. “gonna make sure you remember who you belong to right here in this bathroom.”
too turned on to dwell on the sting, you spread your legs further apart and bend over the counter. “need you.” voice just as needy as you looked. “that’s my girl,” he grins, one hand on the small of your back and the other around the middle of his cock. he dragged the mushroom head of his cock along your slit, mixing both precum and your arousal. “mmmh,” the feeling of his tip bumping against your clit was perfect, sending a bolt of lust through you. “yeah, you like that?”
dean could usually take hours teasing you, making you squirm and beg for him, but he couldn’t wait that long this time. he had to have you now. and without warning, he spilt you open and thrusted in deep, stuffing you full all in one go. “fuckkk,” he groans behind you, holding your ass to him with a vice like grip, head lulling backwards. “you feel like heaven..” he moans, letting you adjust to the stretch only for a few seconds before pulling all the way out to the tip before pushing back in just as aggressively.
the movement sent you forward, rocking against the sink counter with each slow but rough thrust from your boyfriend, eyes fluttering shut in pleasure. “oh, dean.. yes, fuck.” you moaned, cheek almost pressed against the cool surface. “feeling good baby? like it when i fuck you full like this?”
“aah, y-yes..” you panted, the snap of his hips getting faster, still just as rough. his heavy balls slapped against you, hitting your clit every now and then, only making the knot in your belly tighter. “mmh—i’m—”
“huh, what?” he chuckles breathlessly, body glistening with a thin layer of sweat. his fingers dug into the flesh of your ass, yanking your body onto him in time with his thrusts. “can’t even talk, can you?” he taunts.
and the truth was, you couldn’t. the tip of his dick was kissing your cervix each time, heavy hands kneading your skin in all the right places, his words pushing you closer and closer to the edge. your walls fluttered around him, resulting in a loud groan from dean. “squeezin’ me so damn tight. you’re close, aren’t you, sweetheart?” he grunts, face drawn in pleasure as one of his hands snake under you to flick at your clit. “i—fuck! yes—”
“i know. i know,” he leaves wet kisses to your back, pace turning sloppy as he fights his own release. you felt it too; the way his cock twitched inside you, the way his hands couldn’t stay in one place, the way his voice raised in pitch a little. all tell-tale signs. “cum with me, baby.” he murmurs against your shoulder, hips snapping erratically. “shit—let me feel it.. milk this cock dry.”
his dirty words were enough to do it for you, the gummy walls of your pussy convulsed around his thick length, squeezing his own release out of him. “fuck!” he moans in pleasure, burying himself to the hilt as hot ropes of his seed painted your walls. “ohh, fuckin’ perfect, baby. take me so damn well…” he praises as he comes down, now slowly grinding in and out of your swollen cunt. “that’s it..” he whispers, letting you ride out your orgasm on trembling legs.
when he pulls out, you whine at the loss of contact and warmth, instantly arching backwards toward him. he lets out a laugh, grabbing the base of his slick cock, shoving the glob of cum oozing out back into your precious little hole. “if you’re that fucking needy, you’ll keep it all. understand me?”
the feeling had you shivering as he filled you halfway before leaving you empty again. but the fullness in your stomach was still there, providing satisfaction. “oh my god…” you pant, leaning back up slowly. “need you to get jealous more often..” a small, teasing smirk creeps onto your face. dean shakes his head. “no problem there. it’s easy with you.” he kisses your shoulder, helping you dress again after cleaning what he could.
“you’re still going home with me though, right?” he asks before unlocking the door. “shut up,” you laugh, pushing him out as you follow, not sparing the sulky bartender a single glance.
Prompt: “Are you seriously flirting with me right now?”
“Sweetheart, you still awake?” Dean’s voice, coming from across the room.
You hum in reply, trying to nod too, but there’s heaviness in your eyelids, and you would give anything to sleep, even for a few minutes. It probably wouldn’t be a comfortable nap, not with your hands tied up behind your back, holding you to the wall.
“Cmon, talk to me,” he says, and you can hear the concern in his voice. You like it when he’s concerned about you. He’s sweet. Always is. “Can’t have you falling asleep right now.”
You did take a pretty severe beating a few hours ago - that’s how you ended up here in the first place - so sleeping might not be the safest route at the moment. That’s why he keeps talking, asks you questions. You know he would do a lot more than that if he could.
You hear him struggling with his own rope, again and again, which has brought him nowhere so far. Then he sighs, giving up, at least for a minute.
A couple of seconds go by in silence, and your eyelids beg to be closed; the darkness of the room doesn’t help your battle against them either.
“Hey,” he says, calling your name. “Wanna hear a funny joke?”
“God, no,” you reply, voice hoarse. “Please spare me.”
“Hey!” He reprimands you, but there’s mirth in his voice. “You’re mean, you know that?”
“Only to you,” you chuckle. “Can’t really help it.”
“Well, I am honored, not gonna lie. Makes me feel special.” He struggles with the rope again, then sighs for the hundredth time. He can't hide his frustration; if anything, it's getting worse.
You know there's no way out, not until Sam gets here anyway. You’re praying it won’t take him too long, because you might actually surrender and let your eyes close for a minute. Just one. Shouldn’t be too bad.
You almost do.
Dean says your name again, urgency in his voice. “Hey, you can’t check out now." He sighs before continuining, "You know, I haven’t even asked you out yet. Would be a hell of a way to dodge saying yes.”
You almost laugh. “Are you seriously flirting with me right now?”
“Been doing that for a while, but thanks for finally noticing,” he says. And then, “Think you can hold on a little longer, sweetheart?”
Your lips curve in a tired smile before replying. “I’ll try. Kinda wanna see what happens next.”
And you do stay awake, his sweet, concerned voice keeping you company until you’re finally safe.
you knew you were nothing more than a quick fuck to dean winchester. yet you always ended up visiting the trashy motel he stayed at temporarily whenever he was in your town. sex with dean just felt so good :(
now he had you on your back, your feet planted on top of his broad shoulders as he rutted his hips. his arms muscular from years of hunting, supported the back the back of your legs. "takin' me so well. always there for me when I need you." he praised while grinning, his crows feet becoming more prominent. "just my personal fuckdoll I can always come back to."
your stomach bulged with his fat cock inside of you that was stuffing you to brim. "oh god dean-" you moaned while pressing your nails in the skin of his back, leaving crescent marks everywhere.
he nearly took your breath away when his hand came down to press onto your tummy right where the ouline of his cock was so visible; his silver finger cool against your skin. "mmm look at your cunt keepin' daddy's cock happy. doing so good f' me baby." he cooed before his demeanor changed again. "such a dirty girl though. always letting herself get fucked by me when you barely know who I am."
and he was right. all you knew about him was his name and that he had a brother he was on some sort of roadtrip with. maybe the ring he wore was an engagement ring, maybe he had a wife. but that didn't matter when his tip kept hitting your g-pot deliciously over and over again until your legs trembled making you cum so hard.
dean came as well. thick ropes of milky cum spilled inside you, filling you up with warmth that was almost comforting. "oh fuck." he groaned deeply, tilting his head back as his eyes closed in pleasure. afterwards he pulled out, your hole gaping with some of his cum leaking out of it. "wish I could keep a sweet thing like you around."
fingers gripped you tight, breath fanning the back of your neck. in the dead of night here you lay wrapped up with someone who you told yourself you'd never get involved with again. . .
dean winchester
his warmth clouding your judgement, you knew he was bad news. dean was cold, calculated, and rugged. all the while being the most caring and loving person you knew and maybe that's what drew you back to him.
the dingy motel brought back memories, albeit not fond ones, still memories filled with him. the floors creaked, the bed was oddly hard in some areas, and it had a sad aroma of smoke and something you couldn't quite describe.
your fingers grazed the spot now marked by him; a slight pain rushing down your spine as you pressed on it, wanting to feel something. his touch almost felt like knives as he gripped your skin, seeking refuge in remnants of a body he once knew like the back of his hand.
you knew this was a bad idea, yet you couldn't bring yourself to leave, silently, like you had done many times before.
an irish goodbye one might say, but to be frank it never truly was a goodbye. you always found yourself back in his arms even if they were the ones who hurt the most.
sunny yaps! hii everyone! I leave this to you guys to interpret, i just had the urge to write something so here you aree!! also im sorry i dont remember who to tag very well :((
special tags! @filthgf @couturewinx @bruisedfig
𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 ® 𓂃 do not repost or copy my works without permission!!
There's something about lazy Dean Winchester that's got me in a chokehold. Specifically early seasons Dean. I could so see him laying in a bed. He's just in a pair of boxers. You're half laying on his chest while palming him through his boxers. Not enough to make him cum. But enough his cock is drooling. He's just laying there half asleep while you tease him. He's whispering, "feels so good, Sweetheart... Yeah just like that." He's breathing all hot and heavy in your ear. He squirms by the time you actually pull his boxers down. They're so damp from just how long this has been going on. "Please baby?" He's asking so sweetly as he cups your face with one hand.
But when you say, "hold it. I'm not anywhere near done." He can't help but whine. That sweet pathetic wine that's got your stomach tightening. It's got you tying your hair up and getting between his legs to suck him off. "What's the matter, D? I thought you wanted something slow and sweet?" You tease before you lick up the length of his cock.
He's so sensitive it flexes under your tongue at the touch. His thighs are already shaking a little. But he looks excited. His fingers slot into your hair. He's not trying to guide you. Just wants to hold you. His other hand reaches for your free hand. The one not holding his cock as you suck his tip. "Such a sweet girl sucking my cock first thing in the morning." he groans out. The sunlight is hiting you both just right. He swears nothing else matters than this right here. Early mornings being young and dumb in a motel room.
