CHAPTER 8: Gamble
⠂୨୧ ⠂A sequel to Ordinary ⠂୨୧ ⠂
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fiancée!Reader (plus-size, f)
Rating: 18+, drinking, gambling, sexting, masturbation
Word count: 7 k
Summary: You and Dean reunite on the casino floor, gambling with money, self-control, and a no-sex pact that’s hanging on by a thread.
A/N: I’d really love to hear your thoughts on this one. It’s a chapter I’ve had in my head for a long time. Honestly, I was already thinking about the hotel part before I even started writing this story. So I really hope it lands the way I intended.
As always, thank you for reading, commenting, and engaging... it means the world to me ❤️
⠂⠂୨୧ MASTERLIST ୨୧ ⠂⠂⠂୨୧ CHAPTER 7 ୨୧ ⠂⠂
‘Hey. You doing okay?’
Charlie’s voice came from somewhere off to the side. You didn’t look at her. Your eyes were still locked on Dean. Your heart was pounding like it was trying to break through your ribs.
You should be grateful that after everything, the trials, rituals, months of living together, he could still do this to you. Maybe it was pathetic. And maybe it was romantic. Hard to tell.
What mattered was that your body had absolutely no interest in cooperating. You needed to look casual. Unbothered. Normal. Except… he was here. They were here. Looking like that. Every bachelor group, every cluster of tourists, every fake high roller faded into the background the second they stepped in. They turned heads without even trying. And with Sam towering a foot above every other man in the room, they were impossible to miss.
Still… it didn’t matter. You only saw one of them.
You didn’t even notice Charlie leaning into your field of vision until she placed a cocktail napkin in your hand.
You finally tore your gaze away. ‘What?’
‘For the drool,’ she said, stirring her drink casually.
‘Shut up,’ you muttered, cheeks going warm. But it broke the trance, and you finally managed to compose yourself.
‘They look good though, right?’ you smiled, taking a sip of your drink. ‘I mean, they-’
You didn’t finish that thought. Because Dean stopped scanning the room.
And found you.
Eyes locked on yours.
His smile didn’t disappear, it changed. Darkened. His gaze dipped, trailing down your body with no apology. Heels. Legs. Cleavage. Back up to your face, eyes lingering on your lips. His throat worked when he swallowed, and for a second, he didn’t move at all.
Then he dragged his tongue over his bottom lip and bit down. And you genuinely thought you might fall off your stool.
Your thighs pressed tighter before your brain even registered the movement.
Dean leaned toward Sam, said something you couldn’t hear, and nodded in your direction. The others followed his line of sight, expressions going from casual to pleasantly surprised.
‘Oh, shoot,’ Charlie breathed, straightening. ‘Showtime. Take a deep breath. No weird noises. Try to remember words.’
You nudged her with your knee. She just grinned wider.
They reached the bar in no particular hurry, confident without trying.
‘Well I’ll be damned,’ Dean drawled, hands in his pockets. ‘What’re you two doin’ here unsupervised?’
Benny whistled, southern charm in full effect, ‘Ain’t you two sights for sore eyes.’
Charlie bumped his shoulder. ‘You boys clean up alright, too. Didn’t expect Casino Royale realness tonight, but I respect the commitment.’
Kevin cleared his throat. ‘Weren’t you supposed to be at a magic show?’
You opened your mouth to answer… and then felt it.
The lightest touch against your crossed leg. Dean’s thumb. Sliding up your calf, over your knee. Casual. Invisible to everyone else.
Your breath caught. His smirk deepened. The smallest, filthiest victory.
God, you were in trouble.
‘We wanted to, but decided to change plans,’ you managed. ‘Felt like gambling tonight.’
Charlie turned to Cas, excited. ‘How are you doing, Cas? First casino?’
He nodded once, still taking in the room. ‘This place indulges nearly every human desire simultaneously,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘It is… fascinating.’
‘Okay,’ Sam clapped once, eager. ‘I’ve been told we’re here to win money. Or lose dramatically. So... shall we?’
‘Hell yes,’ Kevin agreed, already scanning for the nearest table.
Dean still hadn’t stopped looking at you.
He leaned in and brushed his lips against your cheek. The scrape of his scruff. The heat of his breath. The smell of aftershave and whiskey and him.
Your fingers curled into your palms to keep yourself from climbing him like a tree.
‘Have fun,’ he murmured.
Your voice didn’t come. You just nodded.
They headed off, splitting into the crowd. You let out a breath once they were far enough.
Charlie sipped her drink slowly. ‘So,’ she said, ‘roulette or poker?’
You dropped your head into your hands for a second. Then straightened.
‘Roulette,’ you said. ‘Before I do something stupid.’
You picked a table near the main bar, close enough to grab another drink, far enough from the serious players not to embarrass yourself. It was busy, noisy, well-lit. No cheering crowds or dramatic wagers yet, which was perfect. You weren’t ready for a spotlight, and standing on these heels any longer than necessary would qualify as cruel punishment.
Besides, Dean was sitting at a blackjack table just across the floor, side by side with Sam. He hadn't looked away since you stepped up to the wheel.
Before the dealer even called the first spin, your phone buzzed.
you wore that dress on purpose didn’t you
You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye. That smirk. That suit. That look that always landed low in your stomach.
Your thumbs flew.
Have you seen yourself in that suit? This is just revenge.
His reply came almost instantly.
well it’s working nearly walked into a wall
You shook your head, smiling, and tucked your phone into your purse just as the game started. With deliberate confidence, you took the chair that offered the best view of Dean… and let him get a perfect view of you.
‘So,’ Charlie leaned in, eyes sparkling. ‘You ever played roulette before?’
You shook your head. ‘Nope. But Dean always says to bet on black.’ You stood, leaned slightly over the table, carefully, and placed your chips on one of the black numbers.
Charlie didn’t miss the extra bend in your knees. She raised an eyebrow, amused. You just shrugged.
The wheel spun.
When the dealer called the winning number, yours, Charlie let out a whoop. You blinked at the pile of chips being pushed your way.
‘Well,’ you said, smiling. ‘Beginners’ luck is real.’
You glanced up, straight toward the blackjack tables. Dean was watching you from over the top of his cards, one eyebrow raised, grinning.
You played a few more rounds. Won a few, lost a couple. Charlie kept the mood light, talking with the tourists next to you, sipping her drink. You couldn’t focus, not really. Not with Dean right there, stealing glances every time you moved. You may or may not have leaned a little too far once or twice. You may or may not have adjusted your neckline unnecessarily.
Eventually, you pushed back from the table. ‘Another drink?’
Charlie was already up. ‘Please. My lucky streak’s run dry.’
You made your way back toward the bar, heels tapping, dress still clinging in all the right places. You sat down, ordered drinks, and when you opened your purse, your phone was already lit up.
what’re you trying to do to me, sweetheart
You smiled to yourself, heart skipping. You typed back quickly:
Just minding my own business. Drinking my drink. Behaving.
Charlie set her glass down and raised an eyebrow at your face. ‘Okay. What next? Roulette again? We did kind of good, right?’
‘We did,’ you agreed. ‘More fun than I expected. The adrenaline, the lights…’ You shrugged, sipping. ‘Kinda addictive.’
Charlie snorted. ‘Sure. But I think it’s less the lights and more the six-foot man in the suit who hasn’t taken his eyes off you all night.’
‘What?’ you said, too fast.
She grinned. ‘You really think you’re being subtle?’
That’s when your phone buzzed again.
the hell you are not a single thing about you tonight is behaving if i lose us money it’s your fault
You bit your lip, just a little.
Yeah… you were starting to really like this game.
Dean was done with blackjack.
He’d held his own, couple solid hands, cleared a table or two, made a little noise. But sitting still wasn’t cutting it anymore. He wanted something louder. So he moved to craps with Cas and Kevin while Sam stayed back at blackjack, still riding a streak. Benny had peeled off to grab another drink, said something about too many people and not enough bourbon.
The table was decent. Dean made a couple bets, watched the dice tumble. He didn’t need divine intervention, but he had a sneaking suspicion Cas might’ve nudged a little luck his way. Hard to tell. The guy did that thing with his head like he was definitely not doing something supernatural. Which usually meant the opposite.
But honestly? Dean didn’t care. His head was somewhere else entirely.
Her.
He could feel her looking at him from across the room. And, damnit, it did something to him. Usually he was the one ready to snap in half just from how she looked at him. The number of times he nearly lost it because of her? Embarrassing. And she knew it.
Tombstone, for example. Poker night. Her in that outfit, watching him from across the room. Yeah. She’d fried something in him that night. Permanent damage.
So seeing her be the one losing composure tonight?
Dean liked that. A lot.
Didn’t mean he was fine. Not even close. That dress? Those heels? He’d like her out of both, riding him slow, holding nothing back.
But she was the one who suggested the damn no-sex thing. So tonight?
He was gonna make her feel every second of it.
Another roll hit. Money came in. A few cheers went up. One woman to his left clapped a little too enthusiastically and brushed her hand over his arm.
Dean clocked it, of course. Smiled, polite, nothing more. But the second it happened, he glanced toward the bar.
And yeah. She definitely saw it.
She was sitting there, legs crossed just so, drink in hand. Not even pretending not to look. Good.
Dean felt the smirk pull at his mouth before he could stop it. Then his phone buzzed.
Not exactly table-friendly, but no one was watching him too close while Kevin blew on his dice eagerly. Dean stepped back a pace and quickly checked his screen.
That woman just touched your arm. Should I come over there and kick her ass?
Dean let out a low chuckle, thumb already moving.
would pay to see that she asked what i do for a living. i said suffer because my fiance won’t let me touch her
He looked back at the bar. Charlie was gone now. Just her, alone, still holding that drink. Smiling at her phone. Holy crap, she was beautiful.
His own phone buzzed again.
Consider it a punishment for letting other woman touch you.
Dean’s heart gave one hard, clean thump. He typed without thinking.
babe, you don’t wanna know what i’d do if you really punished me
He hit send and dragged a hand down his mouth, grinning like a fool. The table was getting loud again, more dice clattering, more cheers. His eyes flicked back toward the bar.
Elbow on the counter, phone in her hand, she was biting her lip now. He almost groaned out loud. The screen lit up again.
I do wanna know. Tell me.
Dean exhaled through his nose. Shifted where he stood, keeping his back toward the crowd. Then he typed.
i’d let you. let you do anything to me as long as i could spread you out first legs wide for me while you talked me through every dirty thing I deserve
His jaw clenched the second he hit send. He took a slow breath and palmed the back of his neck. Suddenly felt too warm.
The reply came fast.
Careful. You say one more thing like that and I’m gonna soak through this chair.
Dean swore under his breath. His pants already felt tighter than five minutes ago. Hell. Who was suffering now?
He typed, jaw still tight.
do it make a mess maybe i’ll come clean you up
He looked up just in time to see her glance at her phone.
She stilled. Her legs had crossed tighter on the barstool. That little dress shifting up just enough to show more thigh. Dean bit back a curse.
Then she downed the rest of her drink in one go, looked up at him, and gave him a look. One that said you’re an asshole and do it again, at the same time.
Dean smirked and turned around before he did something reckless. Like march over there and make the last few weeks a memory.
Fuck, he wanted to ruin her.
‘You coming back or what?’ Kevin called out, grinning. Cas was the one rolling the dice now.
Right. Back to it.
Dean exhaled, tucked his phone away, and headed back toward the table.
‘Yeah,’ he muttered. ‘Yeah, I’m here.’
He lost track of her for a while. Even managed to go a decent amount of time without checking his phone.
Not because he wasn’t thinking about her. Hell no. He was thinking about her with every roll of the dice. But phones were off-limits, and if he didn’t want to get kicked out, he had to keep his head on the game.
By the time Benny made it back with a drink and handed it off to him with a knowing look, Dean figured she and Charlie had moved on. Probably trying a few more games, maybe slots, maybe another table somewhere across the floor.
Their table was loud and Dean did his best to blend in. Cheer at the right moments, act like he wasn’t this close to walking out just to feel her pressed up against him. And between watching Cas win an improbable amount of money and Kevin trying to flirt with a cocktail waitress, he hadn’t really had a second to breathe.
Until now.
He'd slipped off from the main pit, drink in hand, needing a minute. Not to think. Just… cool off. The casino was massive, high ceilings, chandeliers, way too much velvet. He found a quieter spot near a row of private poker rooms, mostly empty right now. Quiet enough to pull his phone out.
And there she was. Just past the edge of a slot machine row, leaned casually against the corner of a video poker cabinet. Alone for the moment. One heel hooked behind the other, phone in her hand, looking like a goddamn vision.
The text came in.
Can’t stop looking at your hands tonight. I know what they feel like. Want them on me, under this dress… Between my thighs.
Dean stared at it for a solid five seconds before he remembered to breathe. His fingers were already typing before he could stop himself.
fuck baby you know i can’t stop thinking about your thighs around my face the way you grind when you’re close miss it miss you
He looked up. She was still pretending not to see him. But her phone lit up and her eyes dropped to read. And then she smiled.
That slow, devastating one.
If you keep texting like this, I’m gonna drag you into the nearest dark corner and break every rule we made.
She looked up at him. Dean swore under his breath. Glanced around. Still quiet. Still private enough.
sweetheart just say the word
He didn’t send it right away. Just watched her. Watching him.
And yeah, when he finally hit send, he was officially not playing anymore.
Charlie got a little too excited about the slot machines.
It made sense. Flashy lights, constant sound effects… it really wasn’t that different from the old-school arcade games she grew up on. Except this time, money came out. And the way she kept giggling and swearing every time she won more than twenty bucks? She was adorable.
You tried a few rounds yourself, just to say you did. But it wasn’t really your thing. So you decided to cheer her on instead, letting her enjoy the thrill while you took a breather on the sidelines.
Except… breathing wasn’t exactly going well.
You couldn’t concentrate. On anything.
Your body was still sitting next to a slot machine. But your mind? It was with Dean. Your thoughts had been a disaster for God knows how long, and it was all his fault. You were texting again, back and forth like teenagers. Even though phones were technically a no-go in the casino and you were probably already pushing your luck with security.
It was insane. You could see each other across the room. You could’ve walked over and said these things. But that was probably what made it even worse. Or better. Or… both?
Because it was one thing to send those kinds of messages from different cities. But standing a few feet apart? Watching his jaw flex every time you shifted in your seat or crossed your legs?
Yeah. You were screwed.
You were so turned on, it made your head spin. And Dean was right there. Looking like that. You wanted to rip that suit off him with your teeth. Except for the white shirt. That one would have to stay. Always.
That’s when you saw him lean against the wall near the private poker rooms. Drink in hand, a little flushed, a little loose from the heat and the whiskey. Eyes cast low, lips soft and pouty.
God, you wanted to bite them.
You moved toward one of the quieter cabinets near the wall. Pretended to study the machine. And when you were sure no one was watching too closely, you pulled your phone out and typed.
And of course, Dean hit back hard.
…the way you grind when you’re close…
You blinked. Breathed. Or tried to.
Fuck.
You were definitely going to need a freezing cold shower tonight.
Then Dean stepped away from the wall. Started walking toward you. Your pulse stuttered instantly.
He didn’t say anything, just closed the distance, slowly. He didn’t stop until you could smell his cologne and feel the warmth of his body in front of yours.
Your back hit the edge of the machine behind you. Dean's hands landed on your hips, steady and warm. Even with the heels, you still had to tilt your chin up to meet his eyes.
And God, the way he looked at you… Made your knees weak.
One hand slid off your hip and ghosted its way up your side, brushing up your ribs, along your shoulder, then curling behind your neck. His fingers flexed once.
Your heart stopped. He was going to kiss you.
So naturally, you had to make it worse.
You leaned in. Let your body press up against him completely, soft curves against his muscles. You took a slow, deliberate breath, chest rising, high enough for your dress to shift.
Dean’s gaze dropped. He swallowed. Hard.
You tilted your head, lips almost brushing his.
Then paused.
‘You having fun?’ you whispered, voice soft and dangerous.
Dean’s mouth twitched. His voice came out low and rough. ‘Mhm.’
He didn’t move. Not until his hand gave one last, gentle squeeze at your waist, and then he let go. Turned around and walked off like both of you weren’t seconds away from losing it.
You didn’t exhale until he was halfway across the room.
Your body sagged slightly against the machine. The ache between your legs was almost unbearable now. Your skin still buzzed where he’d touched you.
Okay. That was it. You needed to reset before you did something you’d regret.
You pushed off the cabinet and turned to call out, trying to keep your voice steady.
‘Charlie? I’m gonna go get us another round.’
She gave you a thumbs up, not even looking up, too busy yelling at a row of spinning reels.
You turned back toward the bar, brain still foggy from Dean’s mouth, Dean’s hands, Dean’s everything.
Yeah, you were barely holding it together. And the night wasn’t even over yet.
Because once you were back beside Charlie, nursing your drink, the machines, the tables, the lights… all of it stopped being fun.
The only game you wanted to play was the one you’d been playing with Dean all night.
That’s why your phone was back in your hand.
I’ve got my lip gloss all over this glass. Made me think about how it would look around your pretty cock.
You didn’t know where he was now. Couldn’t see him from where you were. But odds were he was back at a table, which explained the lack of reply.
Still. You stared at your screen anyway, waiting.
Until Charlie spoke up beside you.
‘You’re bored, aren’t you?’
You glanced up. She was still tugging the lever on her machine, but watching you sideways with a guilty look.
You smiled. ‘Not really. Just… not into the slots anymore.’ You sighed and lifted your phone. ‘Got my own entertainment.’
Charlie narrowed her eyes at you. ‘You’ve been sexting, right?’
You didn’t answer. Just blinked at her as if she’d lost her mind.
She scoffed. ‘Please. You’re practically glowing and you haven’t looked at anything but your phone in the last hour.’ She paused. ‘Also, I’m not judging. I’m glad you two are having fun.’
You grinned, clinked her glass with yours, and took a long sip. She made a face at the burn and turned back to her game.
Your phone lit up.
babe. don’t. please don’t fuck with me or i swear
Your smile widened. You pictured him out there somewhere, trying to look cool, pretending to listen to whoever was near him, and failing completely.
You typed back.
Sorry, can’t think straight. I want you so bad I can barely hold my drink.
And it was true. You did. But deep down, you still knew what this was. Just teasing. A game. You were still planning on waiting until the wedding night. You were.
Your phone buzzed again.
you wanna know what i’d do if we were alone right now? fuck it. gonna tell you anyway.
Your pulse spiked.
Three dots appeared. Dean was typing. For a long time. So long you actually froze, staring at your screen like it might vanish if you looked away.
And then it hit.
i'd lay you down, hike your legs over my shoulders and bury my face between your thighs. lick you slow, tasting every inch till you’re dripping down my chin. i’d slide two fingers in, make you scream my name. wouldn't stop till you're shaking, begging me to fuck you. and then i'd flip you over, ass up, slam into you from behind, again and again, one hand in your hair pulling you back onto my dick till you come all over me. all of it, babe, till we can't move. fuck i think i’m gonna go back to the hotel now because if i stay here i’m gonna take you on the damn blackjack table
That was it.
Whatever was left of your self-control? Gone.
This was too much. He was too much. And you couldn’t take it anymore. Not one more minute without touching him. Feeling his hands. His mouth. His everything.
You typed, fingers shaking.
Come to the entrance hall. Now. Not playing anymore.
His reply came so fast it felt like he’d been waiting for it all night.
on my way
Your heart was pounding. Loud, fast, almost painful.
‘Charlie?’
She pulled her hand off the slot lever. ‘Yeah?’
‘Would I be a terrible friend if I said I think I’m gonna head back to the hotel?’ You tried to play it off like you were being casual. Your voice came out slightly breathless.
Charlie studied you for all of two seconds. Then placed a hand on your shoulder.
‘Not at all,’ she smiled. ‘Go. Have your fun. I was just about to go find the guys anyway. I’m done with this scammy machine bullcrap.’
She motioned at it dramatically.
‘I need something with stakes. Poker. Blackjack. You know, danger.’
You hesitated. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Positive.’ She nodded. ‘I’ll be fine. You go.’
Still, you decided to walk her part of the way.
Together, you crossed back into the main part of the casino. It didn’t take long to spot the guys, standing near the bar, drinks in hand. Kevin was counting earned chips. Benny and Cas were deep in some debate, and Sam was listening to them with a focused look.
Dean wasn’t there.
Charlie waved and veered off toward them, throwing you one last wink over her shoulder.
And that was all the permission you needed.
You didn’t stop. Didn’t hesitate. You moved fast through the crowd, careful not to bump anyone. Your heels hit the polished floor of the entrance hall, the sound was sharp and fast, echoing with every step.
And then you saw him. Standing near the lounge area by the reception. Pacing. Phone in hand.
He hadn’t seen you yet.
But the moment he did, his whole body went still. Shoulders lowering, fingers curling tighter around the phone. His eyes swept over you, slow. The same way they always did when he looked at you like he wanted to memorize something. Or devour you.
He crossed the room in five quick strides. And the second he reached you, you were pulled in.
His hands found your waist, backed you into the nearest column tucked beside the entrance hallway, mostly out of view. It wasn’t perfect privacy, but right now, neither of you cared. His mouth was on yours before you could even take a breath, and you let him in without hesitation.
It wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t gentle.
It was desperate. All hands and open mouths and ragged breath, lips meeting again and again. Your fingers tangled in the lapel of his suit jacket, yanking him closer. Dean groaned, low and broken, when your body pressed into his.
His hands slid, fast and rough, up your back, over your sides, down to your thighs. His grip tightened, one hand slipping beneath the hem of your dress, fingers just barely brushing the back of your thigh. Just enough to make your knees threaten to give.
He panted, forehead pressed to yours. ‘You were killin’ me in there.’
You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Your lips were on his jaw, then his neck, your hands buried in his hair.
Dean made a sound deep in his throat and crushed his mouth to yours again. This time slower. Deeper. His hands roamed again, squeezing your ass on the way, and you felt the shift in his body. The way he held you now wasn’t just desperate, it was possessive.
Your back hit the wall with a quiet thud. Dean’s hips pressed to yours. You felt him.
God. You felt him.
And it would’ve taken one word. One motion. One single nod from you and it would’ve happened.
But it didn’t.
Because you broke the kiss.
Not far. Just enough to get the words out without losing your nerve.
‘Dean…’ you breathed.
His mouth was still on your neck, tracing down toward your collarbone, kissing the thin scar just below it.
You closed your eyes.
‘Dean,’ you whispered again, clutching his shoulders. ‘I want you so bad it’s making me dizzy. But… I think we should wait.’
He froze.
His eyes opened slowly, mouth still parted. His chest rose and fell hard against yours.
You swallowed. ‘I know it sounds lame. But… I’ve got this feeling. That if we wait, it’s really gonna make our wedding night special.’
Dean looked you straight in the eye, and you saw it. Frustration, heat. Restraint. You’d teased him all night, and now you were stopping this. You knew how hard that was. But still, you couldn’t shake the feeling... Not like this. Not yet.
‘I’m sorry,’ you said, honest. You brushed your fingers gently along his cheek.
He didn’t say anything right away. Just kept his forehead pressed to yours, breathing slow.
Then, low and rough…
‘You know I’d give you anything,’ he rasped. ‘If you say wait… I’ll wait. But you gotta know I’m dyin’, sweetheart.’
You let out a shaky breath. Nodded once. ‘Thank you.’
His mouth curved, just slightly. Eyes closed now. He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, then rested his lips there a second longer. One hand stroked up and down your arm.
‘Let’s go,’ he murmured. ‘Before I change my mind.’
You both peeled off the wall slowly, hands still tangled. Dean took your hand properly, and the two of you stepped out into the warm Vegas night. The walk back to the hotel wasn’t long, just a block or two, but every step was filled with tension.
Neither of you spoke. His thumb brushed over your knuckles again and again. Almost like he was trying to burn the feeling of you into his skin. You could feel it in your chest too, that ache, that desperate, simmering want. Still warm from his mouth. Still wound up and trying to pretend you weren’t.
By the time you reached the hotel, your heart hadn’t slowed down one bit.
At your door, he paused.
You turned to face him, back against it now.
Dean leaned in, pressed a kiss to your forehead, then let his lips hover near your ear.
‘Sleep tight,’ he muttered, voice low, still rough.
You smiled. Barely. Then slipped inside.
The hotel door clicked shut behind him.
Dean leaned back against it, dragging both hands down his face. The Vegas neon bled in through the thin curtains, painting the room in red and gold, everything too bright.
He kicked off his shoes. Tossed the jacket somewhere. He didn’t bother with the lights, didn’t need them. He could still see her. Right there.
He sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, head bowed.
He was still hard.
A full damn block of walking. Desert heat, night air, deep breaths. None of it touched it. If anything, it made it worse. Because all it did was give him time to replay it. Her mouth. Her hands in his hair. The sound she made when he pressed her to the wall.
‘Son of a bitch…’ he muttered, thumb pressing hard into his brow.
This was his own fault. Hers too. Hell, they were both idiots. Weeks of trying to be good. To be respectful. To wait.
And then tonight happened.
He got up long enough to grab a mini whiskey from the bar. Cracked the seal. Drank half of it in one swallow. Burn hit his chest, didn’t do a damn thing to the rest of him.
Dean sat back on the bed, palms braced behind him, breathing slow, the frustration sitting hot and heavy behind his ribs.
He wanted her.
Not just the skin and heat and friction. Though yeah, that too, God, that too. But her. All of her. The laughing, the stubborn, the infuriating, the soft. The way she looked at him all night. The way she said wait and he listened, even now, when it was killing him.
He tipped his head back.
She was on the other side of that wall. Probably just as wound up. Probably staring at the ceiling. Probably biting her lip and thinking about the way his hands fit her hips.
That thought almost took him out.
He exhaled, long and rough. This was gonna hurt.
He shifted back on the mattress, breath catching a little, hand sliding down his torso, slow, resigned.
His voice came out low, almost a laugh, but not really.
‘Yeah. Okay. Fine.’
He wrapped his hand around himself, let his eyes fall shut. Swallowed hard. And for a second, he let himself picture it, her hand on his chest, lips at his throat, breath shaky as she climbed over him slow, all heat and need and his.
The sound that left his mouth wasn’t quite a groan, but wasn’t a whisper, either. Just slipped out of him. Rough. Exposed.
And somewhere beyond the wall, he swore he heard movement.
You tossed your phone onto the nightstand. The screen glowed for a second, then dimmed, leaving the room in a soft, hotel-dark quiet.
Separate rooms hadn’t felt like a big deal before. Practical, even. But tonight?
Tonight it felt like punishment.
You tried to get comfortable, pajamas, blankets pulled up, pillow adjusted twice… and still your body wouldn’t settle. Everything felt too warm and too tight under your skin. Every place his hands had touched you at the casino felt like it was still burning. Your pulse wouldn’t slow. Your thighs wouldn’t stay still.
You exhaled, shaky. Tried to will it away. Tried to think about anything else.
Then…
A sound.
Not loud. Just a low breath, muffled through the wall. The kind someone makes when they’re trying not to make a sound at all.
Your heart stopped.
Then it hit again, rougher this time. A quiet shift of bedsprings. A slow, uneven inhale.
You went still.
You knew that sound. You’d heard it against your neck. Your shoulder. Your mouth. You knew what Dean sounded like when he wasn’t holding himself back.
Heat gathered low in your stomach, fast and sharp. You didn’t move at first. Didn’t breathe. Just listened.
Another breath. Lower. Thicker. Your fingers curled in the sheets.
You shouldn’t. You should turn on the TV. Call Charlie. Pray for strength. Something.
But instead, your hand slid beneath the blankets and rested over your stomach, not moving, just staying there. Then, slowly, it slipped under the hem of your tee, trailing down.
Another quiet sound from the wall.
You closed your eyes. Your thighs parted, fingers finding where you needed them most. If you just… imagined… you could almost feel him. The weight of him above you. The way he sinks into you. The way he says your name when he’s close to losing control.
Your breath hitched as you circled slowly, matching the imagined rhythm of his hand. God, the thought of him there, hard and desperate because of you... Your breath left you in a small, helpless sound.
And the moment it did, you froze.
Because from the other side of the wall, you heard him go still, too.
Dean’s breath stuttered, hand moving faster, thoughts full of her. The way she’d wanted him all night. He could still taste her on his mouth. Still feel her nails digging into his shoulders.
He dragged in a slow breath, hips bucked into his fist. Eyes shut, letting the memory of her weight settle over him. Her knees bracketing his hips, her fingers bracing on his chest, whispering his name while she rode him, slowly.
A sound caught in his throat, low and rough. He didn’t even try to swallow it down.
And then he heard it. Faint, just through the wall.
A soft gasp. Barely there. But he’d know that sound anywhere.
He went still. Completely.
Another breath followed. Shaky. Unsteady.
Her.
Dean’s pulse kicked so hard it hurt. She was awake. She was right there.
And she was…? Fuck.
He started stroking again, slower, deliberate. Pictured her pressed against the wall, cheeks flushed, lips parted, fingers working herself. His free hand found the wall before he even realized he was moving, palm flat, fingers spread wide like he could feel her through it if he just pressed hard enough.
He leaned his forehead against the cool plaster, eyes closed tight.
He breathed out her name, barely a sound. And on the other side, he heard her again. A soft, broken little moan that punched straight through him.
She was right there. Touching herself because of him. Wanting him like he wanted her.
Dean exhaled, something raw and real and completely undone tearing through his chest. His strokes turned urgent. Her sounds kept ringing in his head.
‘Yeah,’ he whispered, voice wrecked. ‘I’m here.’
The bed creaked under him as he shifted closer to the wall, closer to her. Because she was right there, breathing through it too.
And that was somehow so much worse. And so much better.
The sound of him didn’t stay soft. It grew bolder.
His breathing was rough now, unsteady. You felt it right under your skin. Your pulse thudded hard, loud enough you could hear it in your ears.
You bit your lip, stifling a whimper as your fingers worked faster. Not frantic, just needing. Matching him. The ache in you had been building for weeks, but tonight, with him next door, thinking of you, hand tight around himself… it burned.
A broken sound slipped out of you before you could stop it.
The wall was cool under your palm when you pressed your hand to it, leaning in. Like maybe if you pushed hard enough, you could meet him there.
You pictured him. Jaw clenched, eyes shut, trying not to fall apart. The way his throat worked when he swallowed down a moan.
A low sound rolled through the wall and it hit you all at once, right in the center of your chest. Your breath shook. Your hips rolled into your own touch, slow and desperate, chasing the friction.
And then… your name.
Wrecked and rough, breathed from his side. It almost undid you, pushing you closer to the brink. Your hand tightened on the wall. Your eyes pressed shut, breaths coming in short, needy gasps.
‘Dean…’
Barely a whisper. But you knew he heard it. You almost felt him hear it.
And you were close to the edge.
Her sounds were louder now, faster than before, desperate. And all his.
Every last gasp. Every moan. Every shaky exhale slipping through the wall.
Dean’s hand moved faster, grip tight, control slipping straight through his fingers. She was there, right there, on the other side of the wall, legs open, back arched, touching herself because of him.
The picture burned into his brain. Her, flushed and wrecked, teeth sinking into her lip, those soft little whimpers filling the room.
Then he heard it. His name. Not imagined. Not a maybe.
‘Dean…’
The sound of her falling apart. For him.
His body snapped tight. His whole spine bowed, muscles clenching as the sound tore out of him, raw, guttural, broken. No use holding it back. He didn’t want to. He wanted her to hear. Wanted her to know exactly what she did to him.
He let it hit. Let himself feel every second of it. Spilling all over his hand, whole body shaking.
By the time he slumped back against the headboard, his breath was ragged, heart hammering in his chest. His palm stayed pressed to the wall. Reaching for her. Just needing to be closer, even like this.
He heard her. Still going. But she was close. He knew it. Her breaths short and quick, another soft sound slipping out.
Dean’s eyes fluttered shut. A weak laugh caught in his throat. Not mocking. Just… wrecked. In awe.
Goddamnit, she sounded beautiful.
He sat there in the silence, listening to her come undone. Letting it shake through him all over again.
And when it was quiet again. Dean let out a low breath. Three more weeks. Or was it four?
Son of a bitch.
He knew it now.
When this was over, they were gonna burn the damn world down.
You curled beneath the covers, body loose and heavy, nerves humming. The wall was still between you, but somehow, it felt like it had just drawn you closer than ever. His voice was still in your ears, gruff, breathless, your name broken apart on his lips. It left something inside you. Something permanent.
You stayed there, breathing slow, heart finally starting to settle… until something changed.
In you.
A ripple deep beneath your ribs. Then a pull. Sudden. Like a thread buried somewhere in your chest had been yanked hard without warning. The same strange sensation you’d felt weeks ago, back when you bound yourself to Dean and Sam. But this? This was stronger. Almost... angry.
You sat up halfway, hand pressed to your sternum.
And just as fast, it was gone.
The dizziness stayed for a moment longer, a dull pressure in your temples. But no pain. Not really.
It was nothing. It had to be. The night had been intense. You were overwhelmed. Worn out in the best kind of way.
You just needed sleep.
Lying back, you turned toward the wall again. Fingers brushed the cool surface, just once.
A silent goodnight.
Then you closed your eyes.
Dean woke up slowly. Limbs heavy. Body wrecked in the best damn way. He laid there for a minute, arm thrown over his eyes, just replaying it all in his head. Her voice. Her sounds. The wall between them hadn’t stopped a damn thing.
Hell, it might’ve made it better.
Not sex. Not really. But it still made his list. One of his favorite things they’d ever done. That intimate. Just her and him, giving in without giving up. He could still feel it in his chest.
By the time he threw on a shirt and caught up to Sam, they were headed toward the buffet downstairs. Sam was rambling about how Charlie cleaned house at the poker table, Cas scared someone into folding with one look, and Kevin and Benny almost got into a fight with a pack of frat boys.
Dean chuckled, then glanced across the lobby.
And stopped walking.
She was standing at the reception desk, waiting while the receptionist dealt with other guests. Hair still a little tousled. Dress from last night traded for jeans and a hoodie. Tired around the eyes. Tense. Like something was off.
Dean smiled anyway and headed her way. Slipped behind her, wrapped both arms around her waist, leaned in close, mouth near her ear.
‘Mornin’, sweetheart.’
She jolted. Turned in his arms, fast. Shoved him back like he’d just grabbed her in a dark alley.
Dean blinked. Frowned. ‘Hey! Hey, it’s me. It’s okay.’
He reached for her again. Hands gentle. Pulled her in by the hips.
Her palm cracked across his face.
Loud. Sharp.
He reeled back, hand to his cheek, heart punching his ribs.
‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ she snapped.
Dean stared at her, stunned. Said her name softly.
She took a step back. One more. Face pale now, eyes full of panic.
‘…Baby?’ he tried, the word catching halfway up his throat.
She flinched.
‘Who the fuck are you?’ she demanded. ‘And how do you know my name?’
CHAPTER 9 here
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