0UCH1E

“Shhhhhh.”

It’s a soft brush against the side of your head. Fingers running along the side of your arm. A hand that smells like the sun and the hay that was clinging to the work glove he had shoved in the front of his jeans covered your mouth. The rough callouses underneath were scratchy against your cheeks and jaw, but you had no complaints. Your next breath was a sharp exhale against where his thumb was tucked up underneath your nose.

The bits of sunlight creeping through the wall of the stables was a spread of warmth over your chest. Where the top of your yellow sundress had been pulled down so you could feel the picnic blanket laid out underneath you. It was red and white plaid and itchy, but it was better than the hay underneath. 

Outside, horses neighed. They were back early. You were supposed to have at least another hour, but your daddy brought them back in because of an apparent storm on the horizon. You could feel the humidity in the air clinging to you with sweat beading up on your brow and slithering down your back, but that wasn’t just from the storm. 

You would’ve told him to stop, the risk of getting caught was too great. But he was already pressing his cock into you when the ground started shaking with the approaching horses. Those fingers skimming down your arm moved and rolled a nipple between them. Pinching it until there was a stinging pain that had you gasping behind his hand and seeing stars. Squeezing your thighs together where your dress was bunched up and his cock nudged all the way into you. 

You aimed to strangle out his name against his palm, but he just pulled out and rutted back in slowly. 

“Stall’s unused. Stay quiet and nobody’ll find us, sweetheart.” He rutted in again, a little harder. The thump of his belt against your thigh shot nerves down your back. Right where his blue jeans were locked up behind your legs, rubbing against the backs of your thighs. “Then, all you’ll do is walk outta here and keep my cum from dribbling down your thighs for daddy to see, ‘kay?”

He rolled you over onto your stomach, nudging your knees apart with his. He gave you most of his weight, pressing some of the air out of you. Your next breath came with his thrust back into you, hitting so deep your eyes fluttered shut. Conversation was a pointed, unignorable hum through the wall. Right on the other side of it. 

“Just stay nice and quiet, sweetheart,” he hummed again, and there was the soft clinking of his belt. The lift of his stomach. The warm press of leather against your wrists as he freed your mouth to gather them.

“I’m gonna kill–”

You didn’t get to finish your words. He locked your wrists behind your back in his thick belt and wasted no time ramming into your cunt. The sounds wet and loud when you were up against the wall like that. This hadn’t been planned; you’d just wound up in the stables with him half an hour ago when you’d been trying to avoid each other after the last midnight kiss ended with your determination to focus on work, not screwing one of your daddy’s employees. You were leaving in a few weeks anyway, and it wasn’t worth the trouble of getting everyone in trouble.

Then, you found each other in the empty stables.

You both seemed pretty interested in getting out of there before another argument ensued, but when the sparks shot up and heated words started getting exchanged…. Next thing you knew, you were knocking his hat back so you could kiss him without it falling off. He was grabbing a folded blanket off a stack he’d done up himself. And you were slamming the empty stall door shut while his fingers slid under your dress.

“Want me to stop?” he breathed just loud enough to be considered a whisper. 

His hips snapped forward, forcing you to press your forehead to the blanket and bite down on it. The scratchy material rubbed up against your nipples with every thrust. Up against your clit he’d been teasing and teasing and teasing without letting you fall over the edge. Right there, overly sensitive, and now pressed against the awful material….

You mewled, muffled. 

Damn well wasn’t a no, and the grip he gave the back of your neck to pin you down said as much. He fucked you harder; the ground shook as the horses got closer. Rougher, he made your whole body jolt, his hat next to you on the ground and giving you some feigned sense of extra secrecy. A wall not really there blocking your sin from the rest of the stables. 

“Fuuuck,” he grunted, his grip tightening on the back of your neck. “Fuck, sweetheart. You’re going to kill me.”

You were? The movement got closer. The hum of conversation moved away from the wall, and nerves were a bead of sweat going down to the blanket bunching under your parted knees. His balls slapped against you, his cock drilled into you. Tears pricked at your eyes while they fluttered and fluttered and fluttered just like your cunt was around him. Close. You were so fucking close. Every curse should’ve been flying out of your mouth at him, but you could hardly breathe as that edge came up upon you just like that. Clit so sensitive, the blanket was starting to act like torture. Just barely not enough yet so rough it was cruel. Your nipples ached and your hips pushed back to meet him, earning a grunt that definitely came with a grin.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he cooed. His thrusts stuttered. His weight came down on you harder, the thick ropes of muscles he’d earned through years of hard work started to tense along the back of you. “That’s it, take it. Good girl. F-Fuck.”

So fucking close. You almost screamed. Right there. He rammed into you just right. Right against the spot that brought a few more tears down your cheeks, but–

His movements lurched. The creak of the stable doors opening rocketed through the building. His hips slammed against your bottom, his cock bottoming out, and you clamped your mouth shut while his groan was a faint, body-shaking sound. He came. With tiny, near-silent thrusts. He spilled inside of you as the horses were brought in and a handful of footsteps guided them in.

The thump of your heartbeat was in your ears. You went completely still while the echo of conversation bounced around the stables. The running water in your ears shielded away the actual words, but it was apparent they were getting closer. The stall walls were high. Nobody could see in to where you two were tucked away in the corner of the unused stall. But they were close. Really fucking close.

And he had the audacity to roll. Both of you. His cock still nestled inside of you as you looked up at the ceiling, your knees spread around his, dress up around your waist and down, baring your tits. He covered your mouth with his hand again before you could even gasp out a breath, and he slid his other hand down.

You writhed atop of him–this was too much. Too risky. For fuck’s sake, if they caught you, it wasn’t just some employees, it was–

His fingers brushed lazy, light circles over your clit.

His laugh was something small and near-silent next to your ear.

“Quietly, now,” he murmured.

He nipped at your ear. Then, like he knew you liked it, gave your clit the exact attention it needed. That you needed. There was nothing to do except press your head back against his chest, trembling in forced silence, panting as softly as you could. He pressed his grin into the side of your head, working your clit and rocking his hips just a little. Fucking into your clenching pussy and hitting that sweet spot again and again and again. 

As a horse was let into a stall just a few down from yours, tears spilled out of the corner of your eyes. Your back arched off of him and you hoped the press of his large belt buckle into his abdomen was enough revenge for the moment. The rip of pleasure was torment as much as it was goddamn incredible. Harsh waves rippling from curling toes up to your tear-stained cheeks. A slow quiver along your thighs became a full-body shake that tensed up every muscle to keep yourself from gasping, sniffling, whining, or moaning. 

The dam broke, and you gushed around him in silence, your heartbeat thumping like a threat waiting to be heard through the thick stall walls.

“That’s my girl,” he mused, dragging his fingers up and cupping one breast. Pinching your nipple until you almost whined accidentally. “Shhh. Shhhh.” He slid his hand down from your mouth, capturing both breasts and playing with your nipples with little rolls and pinches. Tweaking them softly until your back was arching and you had nothing to help you stay quiet. “Shhhhh….”

“So it’s been good having her back home then?” carried through the wall, and you would’ve gone still if you could’ve. But his fingers on your nipples, his hips rocking every so gently where you could feel his cock getting hard again…. 

“Oh, yeah. Been a while since I’ve had my babygirl home. Just hope she’s keeping outta trouble with all you idiots here.” Your dad barked out a laugh before hanging something up on the wall adjacent to the stall. A roll of thunder shook the walls and the very air itself. “Shit, let’s get the rest in and get back. Shit’s coming in quick.”

Fingers trailed down again. A hand on your hip. Fingers finding your swollen clit again. You bit down on your lip while footsteps carried everyone away, and beneath you, hips rutted up. Fucking his cum back into you while rubbing your clit. Stars bounced around behind your eyes. The air was hot and thick, electric as the storm brought lightning closer and closer. 

The stable doors were clicking shut when you came again, letting yourself grunt so, so softly while he filled you up again. Spilling inside of you as you milked him empty. 

“You’re fucking dead to me,” you breathed, trembling atop him. He finally pulled out, and propped up the both of you to look down at where he kept your legs nice and spread. Seeing the mess you’d made of each other. 

He had his fingers down there already, sliding them over and smearing that mess over you. Nipped at the shell of your ear while you squirmed, his fingers working into your cunt and the heel of his palm showing you just how sensitive your clit was. 

Your breath hitched.

“Then don’t cum again, sweetheart.” He slid a third finger into you, fucking it roughly into your sopping wet cunt. The sounds were abhorrent and echoing inside the stall. The nearby huff of horses almost hid them. “Hold it.” He shifted, bringing you back down and wrapping a hand lightly around your throat. “Feel your cunt squeezing my fingers. Feel your thighs shaking. Feel your breath hitching, baby. Tell me to stop.”

But your eyes just fell shut when his fingers went right for that sweet spot. When the heel of his palm rubbed against your clit. When he grinned against you and locked his knees between yours to keep them nice and open for him to bring that pleasure right up to the peak.

“That’s what I thought, baby.”

He stuffed his fingers in knuckle-deep and stilled them. Shifted his palm and abandoned your throat, rubbing your clit with fervor and direct attention. Pushing you right over that crumbling edge and leaving you to clamp down over his fingers that kept you stuffed nice and full of him. Tears ruining your makeup and making you choke around every breath.

“Mmm, hold it in now,” he hummed. 

His belt was back on and he’d rubbed the markings from your wrists. Your hands were flat against the side of the stall, his boots between your feet, fingers rubbing over where he pulled your underwear back onto you. Running over the damp fabric just getting wet again. You clenched hard even when it seemed like he was trying to screw you by finding your clit. Kissing your neck and pressing into you like he had another round in him.

“You’re a prick,” you breathed.

“It’s a real long walk back to the house.” He reeled a hand back and spanked you over your dress. His hand left your cunt aching with a teased orgasm. “Hold it in for me now, sweetheart.”

Internally, you were a mess of gooey warmth in your belly. Externally, you elbowed him in the ribs. He laughed it off, the sound dark and low, bringing goosebumps up over your neck. Yet you still clenched as you pushed yourself from the wall and stalked toward the stall door. 

“Meet me by the lake tonight at 11:00 and I’ll tonguefuck you until you can’t cum anymore.”

You flipped him off and left.

Still, running out into the sprinkling rain and feeling his cum leak out of you….

You had an alarm queued up on your phone the second you got into your bedroom safely. 

Asshole.

He blinked up at you, the confusion momentarily breaking through his mask. He tried to recover, tilting his head back with a lopsided, sleazy grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. "What’s this?" he murmured, his voice rough and thick with a hunger he could no longer hide. "You finally decided to give in?"

You didn't answer.

Instead, you reached for a spare blade on the coffee table, the cold steel catching the dim light. With a deliberate motion, you pricked the pads of your fingertips, the small droplets of blood welling up instantly. Dean’s pupils dilated, his gaze locking onto your hand with a predatory intensity that made the air between you heavy and thick.

You reached down, your fingers tangling in his hair to tilt his head back, exposing his throat and forcing him to look up at you. The sleazy grin faltered, replaced by a raw, desperate yearning. You pressed your fingers against his lips, the scent of your blood hitting him like a physical blow.

"Suck," you commanded, your voice low and devoid of warmth.

He didn't hesitate.

The moment his lips parted, the last of his bravado vanished. He lunged forward with a low, guttural sound, his mouth enveloping your fingertips with a desperate, uncoordinated hunger. The sensation was electric, the warmth of his mouth, the frantic pull of his tongue as he tried to draw every precious drop from your skin.

As he fed, you didn't make it easy. You leaned back, watching him with a look of amused disdain, your free hand winding into the thick hair at the nape of his neck.

When he began to suck too hard, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your fingertips with a sharp, stinging pressure, you gave a firm, punishing tug. He let out a muffled, choked sound against your hand, nearly gagging as you forced his rhythm to break, making him struggle for air before he could settle back into the feast.

"Look at you," you whispered, your voice dripping with a mocking sweetness that cut through the heavy silence of the bunker. "Needed your best friend this bad, huh, Dean?" You let out a sharp, mocking huff of laughter, watching the way his throat worked as he swallowed greedily.

The sight of the legendary hunter, reduced to a kneeling, desperate animal at your feet, was a delicious irony. "Fucking bastard. Just using me for blood, aren't you? All that whining just to get you to this point."

He tried to pull back for a second, a flash of wounded pride flickering in his dark, blown out eyes. But you tightened your grip on his hair, pulling his head back sharply to keep him anchored. He let out a low, needy whine that was far more animal than man.

"Don't you dare stop," you hissed, your voice a blend of command and condescension. You leaned forward, your eyes tracing the frantic movement of his jaw. You deliberately slid your fingers deeper into his mouth, forcing him to accommodate the intrusion of your knuckles as he struggled to swallow around them.

The sensation was thick and wet, the friction of his tongue against your skin sending a jolt of sensation up your arm. He let out a muffled, desperate groan, his eyes rolling back in a trance of pure, unadulterated gluttony.

Every time he tried to regain a semblance of his usual composure, you’d remind him of his place, either by tugging his hair until his scalp stung or by shoving your fingers deeper, making him choke slightly on the sheer intensity of the offering.

He was a mess of contradictions, a hunter, a hero, and right now, a starving dog at your feet, completely undone by the very person he usually tried to impress with his bravado. You watched him, a smirk playing on your lips, savouring the absolute dominance of the moment.

The heavy, rhythmic sound of his swallowing finally began to taper off, replaced by a softer, more rhythmic sensation. You felt the wet, sandpaper texture of his tongue performing a slow, sweeping lick across your fingertips, a feline, satisfied gesture that signalled the beast had finally been satiated. The frantic desperation in his throat smoothed out into a low, contented hum.

With a smirk of pure triumph, you withdrew your digits from his mouth. The sudden absence of your skin left him looking momentarily dazed, his lips glistening and redder than usual.

Before he could even attempt to reclaim his dignity, you brought your hand down, delivering a series of sharp, stinging smacks against his jaw. The sound of palm hitting skin echoed in the quiet bunker, treating him no differently than a disobedient pet.

"There we go," you mocked, your voice dripping with condescending satisfaction. "Bloodthirst all satisfied now, huh? You'll stop whining like a fucking cunt now?”

Dean sat there for a moment on the floor, his chest heaving as he fought to pull air back into his lungs. The predatory haze in his eyes was slowly receding, replaced by a heavy, post feed lethargy that made him look uncharacteristically soft. He wiped a stray smear of red from his chin with the back of his hand, his gaze following you as you stood up with effortless grace.

"Yeah," he finally managed, his voice a husky, wrecked mumble. It wasn't quite the suave Dean Winchester the world knew; it was the voice of a man who had just been thoroughly tamed. He offered a faint, sheepish nod of thanks, his eyes lingering on you with a mixture of lingering hunger and newfound respect.

You didn't linger to bask in his gaze or wait for a witty retort that likely wouldn't come. You had already exerted your dominance, and the satisfaction of seeing him so thoroughly undone was enough. 

Turning on your heel, you began to walk away, the rhythmic click of your footsteps on the bunker floor the only sound in the heavy silence.

"You better rest up, Dean," you called back over your shoulder, your voice regaining its usual sharp, teasing edge. "I don't want to see you being a bratty little bitch on the next hunt just because you're feeling sluggish."

You didn't look back to see if he was going to throw a snarky comment your way or simply sink back into the couch in a blood drunk stupor. You already knew the answer. He was satisfied, he was quiet, and for once, he was exactly where you wanted him: humbled.