#sexbynumbers

[feminismandtea]

I reckon all these men talking out of their arse about sex and female desire back in the day (and today, really) are just really, really bad at the ride #sexbynumbers

[wevegotworktodo]

Don't need no hold up (Dangerous Woman-8)

Warnings: Smut, mentions of blood,

Word Count: 2116

A/N: Thanks to @helvonasche​ @dr-dean​ for beta-ing this part.  Also my apologies for taking so long to get this one out, it’s been a crazy month.

I'm also going to cheat and use this for @mysupernaturalfics Sex by Numbers challenge, I was given the number 2. I hope this is satisfactory babe.

Part 8: Don’t need no hold up

*************************************************************************************************

Case closed. Your first big case, solved, and you can’t tell a soul.

***Two days later:

You’re curled up on the couch, head in Dean’s lap, eyes barely managing to stay open as he runs his fingers through your hair. Star Wars was never your kind of movie but it was Dean’s turn to pick so you use the opportunity to just be close to him.

Sam’s sitting at the kitchen table, nose buried in his laptop as usual, searching for their next case. Every single time he’s opened his mouth for the last 48 hours you cringe, knowing these moments are fleeting, he will find a case, and Dean will leave.

What do you say to protest? Nothing, there’s nothing to say. This has been nice, eye opening, to say the least, but where is it going? He has a responsibility to hunt things, save people, carry on the family business, and apparently save the world, again, because there’s always a threat. He hasn’t needed to say this to you, you’ve gathered all the information you need from the many alcohol induced stories they’ve told you.

Sam clears his throat, you tense, eyes flying open. “I think I found us a case Dean.”

Fuck, fuck, fuckedy, fuck! Dean stops carding his fingers through your hair, shifts under you, puts his arm up on the back of the couch, and turns a little to face his brother, “Yea, where?”

“Bixby, Oklahoma. Several missing persons in the last week.”

You sit up, turn to Sam as well and he gives you a sympathetic look. It honestly makes your stomach churn, unsure if it’s because they’ll be leaving, or if it’s because Sam might feel sorry for you.

“Get a good night’s rest? Leave in the morning?” Dean says, wrapping you in his arms, pulling you into him.

**************************************

Dean’s standing at the foot of your bed, stuffing flannels into an already bulging duffle bag. You’re sitting in the middle, legs crossed indian style, studying him intently, trying to sear every single part of him to memory. You figure you’re going to need this memory, hold on to it for dear life, because it’s the only thing he’s not going to shove in that goddamn duffle and take with him.

He pulls the sides of the bag together, slides the zipper closed. “That everything?” you ask. Please say no.

“That's it.” He shrugs on his green jacket, throws the bag over his shoulder, holds out his hand to help you off the bed.

You walk him to the front door, hug Sam goodbye, wish him well. He takes Dean’s bag, along with his, heads downstairs to give the two of you a moment alone.

Dean inhales sharply, blows it out slowly, shrugs his shoulders. “So…”

“So…” You look at your feet, afraid to look him in the eye, it's too dangerous.

“Maybe I can come visit, I'm sure we’ll be passin’ through.”

“Yea...yea… That sounds good.”

“Ok then, I'll...uh...call then.”

“K.”

He leans in and you still can't look at him. He cups your jaw in his hand, kisses your cheek, traces his thumb over it, before pulling away slowly.

And just like that he's gone, just like that you're gone, everything you've become, everything you wanted to be, walked out that door with him. You have no other choice, so you press your back to the door, slide down to the floor, and cry.

****6 days later:.

You're sitting in your patrol car, running the license and registration of an old Ford pickup with a busted taillight when you get a text. Your heart flutters, skips a beat or two, as you open it.

‘Hey sweetheart.’

‘Hey handsome.’

‘Busy?’

‘Not at all, what's up?’

‘Just finished up the case in Bixby, can be there in 8 hours.’

‘You sure about that?’

‘Six and a half if Sam will shut up about my driving.’

‘Not what I meant Dean.’

‘I'm sure, you sure?’

‘:) see you soon.’

You unlock the door just after 2 am, letting Dean into your apartment. You look behind him into the empty hallway. “Where's Sam?”

“Motel.” He closes the door behind you as you step back inside, pulls you in for a kiss, a deep, wet, hot, Dean kiss. One that always leaves your panties wet and your pussy tingling with anticipation.

When your alarm goes off 8 am, you wake up naked and wrapped in Dean, his arm is over your torso, your legs tangled together, most of your hair is covering his face, his warm breath in the crook of your neck. With your free hand you gather your hair, twist it and pull it to the other side of the pillow. When Dean feels you shift he pulls you tighter, mumbles a sleepy ‘not yet’ into your shoulder as he nuzzles closer. You’re still exhausted from the previous night’s activities, muscles burning and sore from the various positions he contorted the two of you into.

“I've gotta work today.” You say yawning, wiggling your way out from under him, starting to dress. “Will you be here when I get back?”

“Just passin’ through.”

“Oh..ok.” Maybe the toothbrush in your mouth hid a bit of the disappointment in your voice.

“Call you next time I'm close.”

“Yea,” you kiss him quickly, not wanting to be pulled back in again. “Lock up when you leave, will you?”

****14 days later:

The clock says 5:08 am, and someone is knocking on your door. You assume it's the bat shit crazy lady from 4C wanting you to come and investigate because she thinks the government has sent another drone to ‘watch her.’ You roll your eyes at the thought, grab your glasses from the night stand, stumble through the living room, still trying to pull on a pair of sweats while you walk.

You're met with crazy alright, just not what you had expected. Dean is standing at your door, flannel and jeans both covered in blood. Before you can say a word, before he says a word, he just steps inside, grabs your face with both bloody hands, and kisses you like it's the only thing that's been on his mind for the past two weeks.

“You ok? Any of this yours?”

“No...well, maybe a little...vamp nest.” he answers, pulling you back into him.

You wrap your fingers in the front of his tee, scared as hell to see him like this, scared as hell that you’re scared as hell. You don’t have time to process the feeling, Dean’s already pulling his flannel down his arms.

“Oh, no you don’t. Bathroom mister. I don’t need my living room lookin’ like a crime scene.”

“Yes ma’am.” he takes your hand, leading the way.

You start the water while Dean rids himself of all his clothes, leaving them a crumpled mess on the floor. He pulls you back into him, hands trace down your torso to the hem of your tank, and you raise your arms so he can pull it over your head. He brushes your hair over your shoulder, lays open mouthed kisses down the back of your neck, across your shoulder blade as he pushes your sweats off your hips. You step forward, into the back of the shower, allowing Dean to step in under the hot water.

It cascades down his body, the muscles in his back and arms flexing as he raises them to run his fingers through his hair.  You’ve already filled your hands with soap, so you begin to trace those muscles with your palms, maybe more for your benefit than for his. Your hands start at his waist, gliding upward along each side of his spine, you dig your thumbs in, massaging as you go. He sighs, maybe more of a groan, as the tension starts to finally release. You reach his upper back, giving it the same treatment, massaging small groups of muscles at a time.

While you’re getting another squirt of body wash Dean turns to face you. You knead your newly slick hands into his biceps, along his pecs, all while he watches you intently. You smooth your hands over his abs and waist, when you dip to his hips he stops you, pulls your hand away.  

He touches your face where there’s a faint outline of his hand in dried blood, “We need to get you cleaned up too.”

You nod, scrub the sides of your face with your already soapy hands, do a little do-si-do with Dean ‘til you're the one that's under the water. You reach for the shampoo, but he's picked it up first. “Let me,” he says adding a generous amount to his palm. He nudges you to turn around, spreads the shampoo around in both hands, runs one across your scalp, gathers your hair at the nape of your neck with the other, sliding it through his hand to the ends. Then he goes to work, lathering, massaging your scalp, lightly pulling your hair, and Jesus does it feel amazing.

You let your eyes fall closed and you’re almost dizzy at this point, leaning forward, putting both palms flush on the shower wall to hold yourself up. Dean steps closer to you, pressing himself into your back, his erection hard against your ass. One soapy hand comes forward to knead your breast, the other dips between you to to guide his hard cock through your folds. He doesn’t enter you, just glides back and forth teasing your clit and your dripping center.

You spread your legs wider, hoping he’ll take the hint and just fuck up into you already, but he continues his torture. You let your head fall back, the water washing over you, suds pouring between your bodies. Your core is on fire as you feel yourself inching closer to release with each push, with each pull. “D...D...Dean” you moan out.

“Let go baby, I got you.” His teeth are gritted and his voice is strained.

He's heard your unspoken request all along, but he has been waiting for just the right moment. Now it's here so he pulls back through your slick, and when he presses forward again he repositions his hips and slides into you. At the same time he moves his hand from your breast to your clit.

The sudden fullness, the new sensations on your burning hot pussy is enough to shove you right over the edge. Your eyes clamp shut, your body trembles, you pussy clenches onto Dean as he continues to press into you.

He pulls out, falling apart with you, shooting his hot cum across your back and down your ass. You lean forward a little more, letting the water rush between you. Before you can fully recover Dean has his hands full of body wash, cleaning you up.

His hands move south, through your folds, sending a second shock wave through your body as they find your still engorged and still very sensitive clit. Before you have a chance to protest even a little you’re cuming again, light bursting behind your eyes as your body trembles, Dean half holding you up as he works you through the aftershocks.

When he’s sure your legs can hold you he moves out of the shower, passing you a towel of your own as he runs his over his head and down his body. Once you’re both dry and settled Dean curls against your back, breath heavy on your skin, and you both drift off to a blissful sleep.

Your alarm goes off at 8 am like always, sun peeking in through the curtains. You’re relaxed at first, until you realize you’re alone, then a sinking feeling rushes through your gut, and you're not sure how much longer you can keep this up.

You don't want to lose Dean, you don't want to hide the way you feel about him, but late night booty calls is not what you had in mind, especially when he shows up unannounced and bloody. It's only a matter of time before a neighbor spots him and starts to ask questions, before his cases move further and further away from Tennessee, before you drift apart all together. You begin to wonder if you should cut your losses, chalk it up to bad timing, or if you should relish the small but fleeting moments he gives you.

Tag list:  @busybee612 @prettyxwickedxthings@manawhaat @mamapeterson@leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid​ @leather @whispersandwhiskerburn   @kittenofdoomage @spnashley @thecredits-arerolling @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog@aprofoundbondwithdean @zanthiasplace @sometrappersblog @d-s-winchester @nichelle-my-belle  @teamfreewill-imagine @mrswhozeewhatsis @driverpicksthemuusic @frenchybell @deansqtpie  @thing-you-do-with-that-thing@thedancingnerdmermaid  @treasurecastiel  @lucifer-in-leather  @torn-and-frayed  

[thatpuckishpixie]

So I was just blogging and talking to and old friend when...

Ash: I want a baby.

me: