bitesizedtales

Neon paints your body in hues of red and blue as you cross the dance floor. The dive bar has little by way of illumination beyond the signs on the wall depicting beer and food, half-naked cowgirls, and the name of the joint. A few yellowed lights hang from the ceiling, joining the bright colors to shine down on the crowd below.

You wind your way through the throng of sweaty bodies, their boisterous conversations meld with the thrum of music soaking into the atmosphere. Cold glass bites into your palm as you carry your fresh beer back to the edge of the dance floor. 

It’s standing room only— a regular occurrence on Thursday nights where ladies drink free— and since your friends have long since returned home, you don’t see the point in trying to snag a high-top for yourself. 

No, half drunk on the music and the cheap beer, you don’t want to sit–you want to dance.

Between line dances, you down long-necks and tall glasses of water alike, feeling like you’re sweating it out faster than you can consume; the last thing you want is to wake up in the morning with a splitting headache, even if your freelance job awarded you a day off. 

After being contained to your apartment by the threat of being ripped to shreds at the razor-sharp claws of a pack of supernatural beasts, you want to spend your new lease on life as you pleased, and right now, you are doing just that. 

You’ve lost count of how many dances you’ve finished by the time your bladder begs you to vacate the floor and empty it. Reluctantly, you shuffle off the dance floor, having to only wait behind three other girls before you snag an open stall. 

The bathroom itself leaves something to be desired. Dingy tile line the floors; you aren’t sure if the patterns were actually design choices or were poorly cleaned stains. Raunchy love notes cozy up to random phone numbers with instructions to ‘call for a good time’ with crude pictures of dicks on the cheap stall walls and door. 

Noting the bathroom was empty, you finish up and wash your hands, smiling at the additional graffiti etched into the edges of the dirty mirrors. Most of it is hazy anyway, the blanket of alcohol warming you at the edges. You pull your tube of lipstick from the pocket of your miniskirt, the denim barely covering you enough to avoid a public indecency charge.

You don’t think much of it when the music grows louder, too busy shoving the lipstick back into your pocket. The door to the bathroom creaks open before it shuts hard with a thud, muting the sounds once more.

It isn’t until you hear the snick of the lock sliding into place that you look up to see a figure standing behind you in the reflection of the mirror. Your heart drops to your stomach in the same second your pussy throbs violently when you whirl around to familiar green eyes that blink black before returning to their alluring jade. 

“Hiya, Sweetheart,” Dean purrs, stepping closer so that there’s less than a foot of space between your bodies. “Forget what day it is?”

Your boots have a bit of a heel, so there’s less of a height difference than the first time he visited you. Usually, you’re at home. Most of the time you’re already in bed when he arrives, sometimes in the shower, sometimes making food.

“No. Just lost track of time.” Somewhere between the dancing and the drinks and your phone being tucked away in the purse you’d brought, the time had slipped away.

His head cocks to the side, the move more animalistic than human. “That so?”

“I wanted a night out with my friends. Sue me.”

His eyebrows raise but he says nothing. 

Not right away at least. 

Instead his attention drifts from your face, slipping down your body. 

You can see his eyes catch on your strappy tank top where the halter neckline plunges to near obscene levels, showing off the scalloped lace of your bra. The green in his gaze goes dark in a different way than you are used to the further down it travels, down all the way to the bare expanse of your legs and where your boots sit upon your feet.

“Must’a had every guy in here tonight drooling over you,” Dean says appreciatively, eyes flicking back up to yours. 

You brace your hands on the sink behind you and lean back with a shrug, trying to act casual and not like your pussy isn’t growing wetter by the second. The heat that rises to your cheeks is in humiliation. He hasn’t even touched you yet and here you are like a bitch in heat.

You’d noticed the heated stares, the way some of the men in the bar’s eyes would pop out of their skull like some cartoon, and you’d be lying to him and to yourself if you said you didn’t revel in it. 

He leans in, and you’re not sure when he got this close to you but you’re assaulted with the intoxicating smell of him. Something masculine and dark that makes you want to bury your face in the crook of his neck. 

You jump a little when the warmth of his palm spreads along the inside of your thigh, too entranced by his gaze, heavy and focused, to notice his arm slipping between your bodies until it’s there. His fingers tease along the soft skin, the tips just inches from the throbbing need between your thighs. 

“Too bad your pussy’s already got someone takin’ care a’her, right?” He croons, slipping his hand up. 

Words escape you as he slides your panties to the side, not that the lacy scrap of fabric was covering much to begin with. 

Your mouth gapes open at the first teasing touch, the calloused tips of his fingers sliding through your slick, bumping against your clit. Hands gripping the edge of the sink so hard you’re sure the porcelain will crack any second, your hips buck up against his hand, seeking the stimulation.

The sense of euphoria is short lived when his other hand shoots out, wrapping around your neck. A gasp gets stuck in your throat and your eyes flare wide. His fingerprints dent your skin.

“Right?” He asks again with a darker edge this time. 

The bathroom around you narrows to the tightness of his grip on your neck and the pleasure derived from his fingers still working over your soaking core. Every inch of your body erupts in tingles, and you would have nodded if his hold allowed it. 

“Yes,” is all you manage to choke out. 

It is a funny feeling. Dean quite literally has your life in his hand. By all accounts you should be pissing-yourself-terrified. But you’re not. Instead, all you can focus on is the dark whorls of lust eddying in the depths of his eyes, the green heightened with his enjoyment, and how his middle finger is circling your clit with precision. 

That was, until it retreats and you nearly whine at the loss of contact. 

You sense where his hand is going milliseconds before his open palm makes contact with the side of your face. It’s not hard enough to do any damage beyond a buzzing beneath your skin that will last probably as long as this encounter, but it’s hard enough for tears to sting at your eyes. 

“Yes,” you wheeze, his grip on your throat just loose enough for the words to squeeze out. “My pussy’s yours.”

Another slap, this one no less gentle than the first. “Say it again.”

Your hand slips up, wrapping around his wrist. “My pussy’s yours.”

His pulse is even under your frantic grip. If it weren’t for the desire written in his gaze and the sizable bulge straining against the front of his jeans, you wouldn’t have guessed he was enjoying this. You’re painfully aware of arousal dripping down your inner thigh, your core clenching around nothing.

Dean’s hand connects with the side of your face one last time then returns between your thighs. The edges of your vision start to go fuzzy, and the moan he pulls from your lips when his fingers press harshly against your clit comes out more like a high pitched keen.

He leans in, keeping steady pressure on your neck. “You’re gonna cum for me before I let you go. Can you do that for me, whore? Not like you need to breathe, anyway.”

“Yes,” you choke out, voice a little louder than a whisper.

“Yes what?” Dean asks teasingly, his fingers moving across your core in a way that makes it really hard to formulate words. 

“Yes, sir.” Your words are slurred, but they seem to suffice anyway as his hand picks up the pace. 

Your hips grind against his palm, matching the rhythm he’d created. You feel dazed when his hand slips lower, two fingers shoving inside you while the heel of his palm acts as the perfect surface to grind your clit on. 

He doesn’t seem to notice or care when your nails dig into the inside of his wrist, your other clawing at his shoulder to brace yourself against the rapidly growing wave of pleasure stemming from between your thighs. 

His muscles shift under your grip as he angles his arm better so he can send his middle and ring finger even deeper into you, curling them up towards your belly. Your hips grind down against his hand, the rough surface providing the most divine friction against your needy clit.

An amused chuckle from Dean vibrates through your body. “I can feel your pussy clenching around my fingers. Fuck, I can’t wait to feel ‘er around my cock.”

A strangled whine is all you can muster as he curls his fingers inside you, stroking that soft spot within you that darkens your vision even further. Arching your back, you press your chest into Dean’s, his preternatural warmth soaking into you. 

You’re sure he can feel the way your nipples are hardened, even through both your shirts. The bralette underneath is little more than decorative lace with a paper thin backing there to not irritate your skin. 

His blood-red button down is immaculate, tucked into a pair of dark wash jeans; it’s similar to the outfit he wore the first time you met him.

Well, he’s nothing if not consistent, you think before stars burst behind your eyes, which you squeeze shut as the tightness in your belly gives way. 

You cum harder than the first time he fucked you. Harder than you ever have in your life. 

Your body goes rigid, trembling from head to toe as electric shocks spark through you all down your spine. The ache of pleasure pulses through your body as he works you through the throes of your climax. 

Head lolling to the side as Dean’s grip on your neck lessens, you gasp in air. The room around you spins as you gulp down oxygen the best you can through your unabashed moans.

Dean’s lips slot over yours, drowning out your sounds of ecstasy and you can taste the whiskey on his tongue when it sweeps into your mouth. Your hand slides up his shoulder to the back of his neck, fingers tangling in the shaggy ends as you kiss him back with matching intensity. A low rumble of satisfaction emanates from his chest.

As you slowly come back into your body, Dean’s hand slows, his fingers leisurely dragging out of you and stroking your oversensitive clit on their way out from between your trembling legs. He grips your chin none too gently, breaking the kiss. 

There isn’t enough time for you to miss the feeling of his lips on yours, to savor the tingling he left behind, before his fingers are in your mouth. 

The calloused tips press down your tongue and instinctively you wrap your lips around the second knuckle. You can taste yourself as you work them over with your tongue, your whimper turning into a gag when Dean shoves his fingers deeper into your mouth.

“That’s right,” Dean all but purrs, looking on with a lust-drunk expression. “How are you gonna take my cock if you can’t take two little fingers?”

He’s right, you think, but I wouldn’t call his fingers small, either.

His grip on your chin relaxes just enough for you to work your jaw open more. Viscous saliva floods your mouth as Dean moves his fingers in and out of your mouth. Every time he bottoms them out, you cough and gag as the tips wiggle against the back of your throat. 

Tears sting your eyes, spilling down your cheeks in fat droplets when you blink up at him. There’s a hungry edge to the way he gazes down at you, obsession bleeding in as he fixates on how your spit collects on his knuckles and rolls down his hand. 

Another rush of want crashes over you at the way he’s looking at you and in response, your thighs clench together unconsciously. The miniscule movement isn’t missed by Dean, not that you were really trying to hide your insatiable need anyway. 

“God, you’re such a greedy slut,” he groans. “I just got you off and you’re already wanting more, aren’t ‘cha, Sweetheart?”

With his fingers shoved into your mouth, all you can do is hum in agreement. 

Dean hums his approval, and with the slightest nod his fingers slip from your mouth, the hand on your jaw following suit. You suck air in greedily, the strings of drool starting to cool on your chin. 

With eyes half-lidded out of pure lust, you watch him raise the hand pulled from your mouth up to his own. A particularly strong pulse of arousal nearly sends you to the floor as his tongue darts out from between his lips. The sounds that come from him slurping your spit from his hand are purely pornographic, all while he keeps his eyes locked on yours.

“Knees. Now,” he commands, wiping the mix of your spit on his jeans.

With how shaky your knees have become in the aftermath of his display— as well as the leg-shaking orgasm he gave you— you’re tempted to comply. A glance down to the bulge in his pants is enough for saliva to pool under your tongue, but the alcohol in your system has made you bold. 

“And if I don’t want to?”

His head cocks to the side, eyebrows quirked up. “No?”

A shake of your head as you look up at him through your lashes. “No.”

“You don’t want me?” He asks, his hand curling around your wrist, bringing your palm to rest on the evidence of his arousal. “You don’t want my cock?”

His grip disappears, but you press the heel of your palm against him, dragging your hand along the length of him. “No, I don’t.”

Dean gives you a knowing smirk, and the moment stretches wide between you before he finally speaks. 

“Liar.”

His hand moves too fast for you to react, fingers tangling painfully in your hair as he grabs a fistful. 

You cry out softly, half from the pain and half out of shock. He leans forward and the sound dies out into a quiet gasp. Your eyes dart from the depths of his gaze to his lips, which are still tugged upwards in a satisfied grin, and back again. 

“You want me. I’ve been inside you. Tasted you.” His thumb traces the plush of your bottom lip, smearing your lipstick even further. “I know just how desperate you are for my cock, whore. You can’t ever pretend otherwise.”

Your knees make contact with the grimy bathroom floor and you can feel yourself tremble with anticipation as Dean angles your head to look up at him. 

“Keep your eyes on me,” he says, undoing his belt with his free hand.

“And if I don’t?” You ask before you can think better of it. 

Dean doesn’t even bother to shove his jeans and boxers down his muscular thighs. They barely make it down past his balls before he’s languidly stroking himself, the tip red and already leaking. 

Your throat bobs and you barely flinch when he grips himself at the base and slaps his heavy cock against your cheek. 

“Oh, Sweetheart. Don’t make me ask twice,” he says.

Heart beating a million miles a minute, you barely feel the small sting of contact nor the dull ache of the tight grip he has on your hair. Your world is narrowed to the throbbing need in your pussy and Dean’s hard cock bobbing in front of you. 

“Now don’t be difficult and open your fucking mouth,” he growls, shoving his cock towards your mouth. 

You have the good sense this time to obey, your lips parting without hesitation. Tongue lolling out, you barely have enough time to situate yourself before his cock is halfway down your throat. 

Instantly, your throat is on fire and you gag at the sudden intrusion. Hands flying up to brace against his denim clad thighs, you brace yourself as Dean holds your head in place.

“Fuuuck,” he rasps, dragging his hips back and briefly allowing you to breathe. “I missed this. Had a lotta girls, but none of their mouths feel half as good as yours does.”

It takes a second for you to adjust to how he’s stuffed into your mouth. Drool has already started to leak out of the sides of your mouth with every thrust of his hips. The stretch of your lips, the taste of him is just right. He smells warm, like sweat and skin and some clean, masculine soap.

And it’s pathetic the way you silently enjoy him pressing your face further onto his cock until your nose is buried in the thick, curly hair at his pubic bone. Your throat spasms as he holds you there, unable to breathe and frozen with sensory overload. 

Hot tears crawl down your cheeks, blending with your drool on your chin. Just when the edges of your vision start to blur, Dean yanks you off his cock by your hair. You cough and sputter, replenishing the void of oxygen in your lungs. 

Thick strings of drool stick to your chin and neck, and you just know your mascara is running down your cheeks, half-dried to your skin with your tears.

“Such a messy girl,” he coos, honey-laced words dripping with condescension. “See, all you needed was a good dick in that brat mouth.”

You welcome the sting as his hand leaves another hot print on your cheek and you have to resist from leaning into his palm when it caresses the hurt. It slips away just as quickly, and in turn you wrap a hand around the spick-slick shaft of him. 

“Gonna keep fucking my face, or do you want me to make it actually feel good?” You ask, locked on his eyes as your mouth closes around the head of him. 

The groan Dean utters when your cheeks cave around him, when your tongue slides along the sensitive underside of his cock, is all the answer you really need. 

You’d learned early enough on that you really had to squeeze your hand around his cock when stroking him. “Harder, bitch,” he’d growled. “Don’t be fucking scared. You’re not gonna break it.” 

His fingers still threaded themselves in your hair, the tips gliding across your scalp as you descended back down upon him. His head falls back, and the red ambient lighting in the bathroom gleams along the column of his throat, skin dewy with sweat.

You’d like nothing more than to stand and lick the salt from his skin. 

Tongue pressed to the underside and cheeks hollowed, you slide his cock all the way to the back of your throat. Your gag reflex balks, but you ignore it, pulling back barely half way before bobbing your head back down. The small whimpers and moans that you make no attempt to stifle travel along his cock. 

Dean’s hand curls further into your hair, leaving your head littered with sharp pinpricks. All it does is add to the slickness between your thighs. Thighs that you press together seeking any kind of friction; you can feel your arousal roll down the insides. Your skirt is still hiked up around your hips, leaving your dripping pussy exposed to the cool air. 

A dull ache makes itself known in your knees, the bathroom tile extremely unforgiving on the joints. You do your best to ignore it, hand sticky with spit abandoning his shaft in favor of cupping his balls. 

Dean’s hips buck into your mouth at the additional touch, seeking the wet heat. 

“Oh fuck,” he grunts. “Keep doing that.”

So you do, fondling him there while maintaining your rhythm; push your head down on him until you can feel him in your throat— until you gag harshly— then pull back enough to breathe through the spasm. Rinse and repeat all the while your free hand inches closer to your throbbing pussy. The wet, sloppy sounds from your mouth meld with his decadent grunts and groans, filling the bathroom. 

The system works, up until the point it doesn’t.

You come up for air only for Dean’s hand to press against the back of your head, pushing you back down onto his cock. Your eyes screw shut as your nose is mashed into the mess of curls at his pubic bone. 

A sound of displeasure vibrates from your lips up the length of him, and after a second you try and pull your head back. It ends fruitlessly, though, as Dean only presses harder. 

“Shut up. Just a little longer,” he growls. “Fucking take this cock. Fucking choke on it like the whore you are.”

Your tear-filled eyes screw shut as your throat spasms hard. Bracing a hand on his muscular thigh, your fingernails dig into the denim. Dean’s cock moves, barely pulling out an inch before it’s back, harshly slamming into your throat. A soreness grows in your jaw for how long you’ve kept it open.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he moans, his chest heaving. “Gonna fucking cum, baby.”

That fuzzy, floaty feeling returns as you struggle against the need to breathe, against the intrusion of cock in your throat. He starts to twitch against your tongue, and the pistoning of his hips grows sloppy and uneven. Pushing through the haze, you swallow around him, earning yourself a string of curses from above you. 

The crass words are cut off by a garbled moan. You hear your name somewhere in there, but you’re too busy swallowing down Dean’s cum to pay much attention to what he’s saying. He holds you there, cock pumping his seed down your throat until he stops twitching and his length softens a bit. 

Lines of spit connect your lips to his cock once he finally wrenches himself from your mouth, and they snap back against your chin when he takes a step back. Your body is wracked with wet coughs as you gasp for air. Heart beating what seems like a million beats a second, you lean back on your heels and wipe the spit from your face.

Out of the corner of your eye you see Dean tuck his half-flaccid cock back into his boxers, leaving the jeans unbuttoned. 

“Up,” he rasps, still breathing hard from his climax. 

On shaky legs, you rise up, wincing at the stiffness in your knees. You brace a hand on the sink behind you as the feeling returns to your lower extremities. 

Dean’s hand slips around to the nape of your neck, drawing you in. His lips capture yours before your brain can catch up. He licks into your mouth and you whimper when his leg slots between yours. The top of his thigh bumps against your neglected core and you nearly cry at the sensation. 

“I can fucking feel you soaking through my jeans, baby,” he says, sliding both hands to your hips. “Soaked just from sucking cock, just like a proper whore.”

Your brain buffers, overloaded with the repeated deprivation of oxygen and the way the roughness of denim feels against your needy clit, your panties still pulled to the side. All that leaks out of you is a pathetic whimper that’s mostly intelligible.

Dean laughs cruelly, kissing a line of fire down your jawline. “So dumb, baby, and you haven’t even had my cock yet.”

He bounces his thigh against you and you cry out, hands scrambling to find purchase on his broad shoulders. 

“Please,” you manage to whine. 

“Please what?” His teeth graze the line where your jaw meets your neck. 

“Need’a cum. Please.”

“You think you deserve it?”

“Mhmm,” you nod vigorously. “Please, Dean.”

You can feel the wet spot your soaked pussy has made, now. The dampness of the fabric allows you to slide easier along the rigidness, your movements barely a fraction of what you need. 

“You think you can make yourself cum on just my thigh?” He pulls back from your neck, an amused tilt to his lips. “Gonna hump my leg like the dog you are?”

“Please,” you say barely above a whisper, legs trembling again.

“I’m not gonna help you. Gonna have to be a big girl and do it all yourself.”

“That’s okay, it’s okay. I can do it. Please, please,” you babble nonsensically now, much to his sadistic satisfaction.

“Better get on with it then,” he says. 

No sooner are the words spoken into existence are your hips grinding down against his thigh. You feel him flex his quad beneath you, creating a ridge that feels mind-numbingly good against your clit. 

You cling to his shoulders for stability, wanton moans spilling from your lips unimpeded. It takes less than a minute for a tightness to grow low in your belly. The heat from his body, the smell of him, it all wraps around you and soaks into your veins like an aphrodisiac. 

There’s no sane part of you left to care how humiliating this is, how desperate you are to dry hump his thigh just from having a dick down your throat. Everything in you is narrowed down to how good dragging your pussy along his thigh feels. How with every shift of your hips, sparks of pleasure threaten to set you alight. 

“Such a dirty girl,” Dean croons in your ear as you puff out breathy moans. “So goddamn pathetic it’s almost sad.”

Your pussy clenches on nothing at the words, at the names he’s calling you. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, hiding the way your cheeks warm. The scent of him is stronger here, and you inhale deeply. 

Dean’s hands have moved to the sink directly behind you, his body effectively caging you between the solidness of his torso and the cool porcelain. It’s that fact alone that keeps you mostly upright, your legs shaking. It grows worse with each drag of your pussy along his thigh, pressure building between your legs. 

“I can feel you shaking, you close?” Dean’s words rumble through you. 

You nod against his neck, moaning into his skin like you can imbue your need to cum into his system. You squirm and hump against him, mouth falling open as you rapidly approach the edge of your orgasm. It’s so close, the final build up making your movements erratic as you push yourself just that little bit further. 

But just as you are about to tip over the edge, Dean pulls his thigh from between your legs and steps back enough you have to reach behind you to keep yourself from collapsing to the ground. 

“No!” You cry out, very nearly at the verge of tears. “Wha—what the fuck?!”

Dean chuckles darkly, meeting your frustrated gaze. “Did you really think it was going to be that easy? God, you’re dumb.”

“Fuck you,” you spit at him. 

“All in good time, baby. Now turn around, put your hands on the sink.”

You scowl and instead you reach down, tugging your skirt back over what little it covers before crossing your arms over your chest. “No.”

Dean’s head tilts and he pouts his lip mockingly. “No? Gonna throw a little tantrum now?”

“Fuck. You.” You say again. 

“You’re really gonna try this with me?”

He’s stepped closer again, so if you really did want to go anywhere, you’d have to push past him. 

But you don’t, and he knows it. 

It’s all part of the game. You play it up, act like you don’t want him, just so that he’ll snap and manhandle you into whatever way he wants you. The best part about it is, he wants to fuck you just as much, so no matter how much you brat, how much you pretend, you’ll end up with his cock shoved into you anyway. 

It’s a welcome change to all the hook-ups you’d had before. Men— boys, really— who would give up at the slightest bit of pushback, who’d pussy out at the level of roughness you so desperately craved. 

And that’s why, even though Dean popped up once a month to rock your world and leave you sated, you never felt the need to indulge the men like the ones who’d been at the bar tonight. They could never satisfy you in the same way. 

“Turn around, and put your hands on the sink,” he instructs again, both of you knowing you won’t before the words even leave his mouth. 

You stand taller, looking him straight on. “Make me.”

You can see the instant his resolve snaps. Something in his face twitches and his expression darks the millisecond before his hands grasp onto your hips roughly. A gasp makes its way out of you when you’re spun around and shoved roughly into the sink. 

The edge digs into your stomach, but that’s the last thing you’re paying attention to when Dean kicks your legs apart with his boot. His hand presses into the middle of your spine, pressing your upper half forward so you are half laying across the sink. 

Looking up, you are met with your reflection for the first time since Dean walked into the bathroom. 

You were right to assume you looked absolutely wrecked. Mascara is streaked down your face, your red lipstick smeared across your kiss-swollen lips. Then your eyes cant up and you catch Dean staring, but not at your face. His eyes, pupils blown so wide you can barely see his green irises, are trained lower. 

Bent over like this, your skirt rides up an obscene amount, baring your panty-clad pussy to him. His lower lip is caught in between his teeth, and he almost looks contemplative in his admiration. 

“Gonna keep staring or are you gonna do something?” You snark, watching his eyes snap up to yours in the mirror. 

“And what are you gonna do if I don’t?” He asks in turn. “What if I just make you stand like this and let all those guys out there who were eye-fucking you come in here and take their turn?”

Your pussy clenches at the thought, and even though Dean no doubt caught the motion, he makes no comment. 

“You wouldn’t. You’re too fucking possessive,” you respond, calling his bluff with not a bit of confidence in your statement. 

Dean smiles, and it’s not a kind expression.

Warm skin against the backs of your thighs makes you flinch a bit, even though you can see him take a step forward. His hands slide your skirt back over the swell of your ass, bunching the fabric around your waist. 

“Maybe, maybe not,” he muses, slipping his fingers beneath the waistband of your panties. “Maybe when I’m all done with you here they can fuck you while my cum’s still leaking out of you.”

Cool air meets your soaked core as Dean drags your panties down your thighs, down your legs. His fingertips skate your skin as he lifts your feet, removing the scrap of fabric completely. Your mouth twists in a fleeting moment of disappointment when he shoves them into his back pocket. 

Those were my favorite pair. 

“Either way, I still get to cum,” you finally say. 

You yelp as his hand comes down hard on your ass. Once, twice, three times in rapid succession. It stings, leaving your skin tingling. The sensation shoots right between your thighs, reinvigorating the swelling need inside you. 

“You really wanna cum that bad you’d let strangers fuck you?” He says with a condescending incredulousness. “God, you’re more pathetic than I thought.”

Another slap, this time to your other asscheek. Your fingers grip the edge of the sink as you resist the urge to rock back towards him. Your cheeks burn from the sting of his words, but he’s not finished. 

“Do you think of me when you fuck yourself?”

You didn’t think your cheeks could grow any hotter in embarrassment, but he never fails to surprise you. 

“What the fuck kind of question is that?” You squeak.

“The kind I expect answered,” he says with another slap to your ass. 

His hand smooths over the warm skin and you nearly moan when it slides inward, his thumb ghosting across your pussy. 

“Why does it matter?”

“Because I wanna know if I make you scream my name even when I’m not here to fuck you senseless.”

Your mouth opens and closes as you try to formulate a sentence, but it’s hard to focus with his thumb stroking the slickness of your core. It’s teasing, not enough for the sensations to build, just enough to keep you on edge. 

You cry out, flinching forward only to be stopped by the sink, when Dean’s hand makes contact with your exposed pussy this time. It hurts more than your ass, but the pleasure that it turns into isn’t diminished. 

“Answer me, slut.”

His hand comes down on your core again and you can’t contain the moan that comes with it. 

“Yes, I think of you,” you relent, gripping tighter to the sink. 

His thumb presses against your clit and your breath catches in your lungs. The pad rubs circles around the nub and you could cry from the direct stimulation. 

“Good.” Is all he says before you lose sight of him in the mirror when he sinks to his knees behind you. 

Your head drops forward at the first puff of his hot breath against your core. His tongue follows, licking a hot stripe up your pussy. A soft moan leaves your lips as he does it again, the tip of his tongue swirling around your clit as he uses both hands to grope your asscheeks. 

His stubble scrapes against your inner thighs, the combination of sensations making your head spin. You rock back against his face, and surprisingly he lets you. His tongue and lips lick and suck at your core, and nothing about the way he’s eating you out is quiet.

Your hips buck when his teeth close around your clit, not ready for the sudden second of pain. His tongue is right there following, licking away the immediate hurt. His thumb takes over, his tongue dipping inside you. 

“Don’t stop, please,” you moan, grinding back on his face. 

“Wasn’t planning on it,” he says, pulling away from your pussy just long enough to say as such before going right back. 

The pressure of your climax rushes up and you barely have enough strength in your legs to keep yourself upright. The orgasm roars through you in one giant wave. Your mouth falls open as his mouth works you over through it. 

In the mirror, you see him stand, and then you’re being flipped around so that you're leaning back against the sink again. 

His lips connect with yours and you can taste yourself on his mouth as he kisses you. It’s not gentle, his teeth clash with yours, your tongues dancing and somewhere in the way he licks into your mouth you feel his hand slide between your bodies to your pussy. 

You’ve barely recovered from the orgasm he just brought you to, and now his middle and ring finger are slipping inside you. 

Carding your fingers through his hair, you kiss Dean hard, letting his mouth swallow your desperate moans. Stars spark behind your eyes as he curls his fingers up towards your belly. Quickly, he finds that soft spot that makes your legs feel like jelly, threatening to send you to the floor. 

“De-Dean! Oh fuck,” you cry out. 

His mouth has migrated to your neck, sucking hard on your pulse point. You clench hard around his fingers, a different kind of pressure building low in your belly. Another orgasm builds slowly, especially as the heel of his palm presses against your clit. 

“That's right, bitch. Scream my name. Scream it loud so everybody out there knows who you belong to.” 

He shoves his fingers further into your sloppy pussy, wet and obscene sounds reaching your ears. Your head lolls to the side, allowing him better access to kiss and nibble on your neck. You’ll have to wear make up to cover up the hickies that he’s undoubtedly placing along your skin like a sign to say you’re his. He punches his digits in and out of you, petting that fucking spot. 

Your thighs are trembling so hard now— so is the entirety of your body. The pressure just keeps building and building. He’s everywhere, between your legs, other hand groping your body, his mouth on your neck. Nowhere is left unattended and it is so much.

“Feel you clenching so fucking tight on my fingers, baby. Gonna cum again for me?” Dean says against your neck, leaning up to nip at your ear. 

All you can do is nod. Words don’t feel real to you right now and no amount of anything could change that. 

Your nonverbal confirmation seems to satisfy him well enough. Then, he does something, something so good and he keeps doing it. Everything around you fades to just his ministrations and the feel of his body caging yours, and you feel the pressure snap. 

Everything goes white and your body seizes up with the intensity of which your orgasm slams into you. But Dean’s fingers don’t stop. They continue to pump into you, curling into you. You don’t even feel in control of your body as you feel yourself gush all over his hand. 

Dean curses under his breath and you just barely acknowledge it as you gasp for air, clinging to his shoulders with all your might. 

Dean draws his fingers from you and a perverted sense of deja vu hits you as he licks you from his fingers. He keeps you upright with his other arm snaked around your waist, and for that you are grateful. 

“Did— did I just…?” You pant, slowly realizing what’d happened. 

“You just squirted all over my fucking hand,” Dean affirms, wiping his hand on his jeans. “Wish I would’a just stayed down there. Drank it right from the source.”

You groan at his obscene words, unable to stand the way his verbal filth immediately makes your overstimulated body respond in kind. 

He taps your cheek none too gently. “Don’t go tapping out on me now. We’re not done yet.”

You’re putty in his hands as he spins you around, bracing your hands on the edge of the sink. He let’s go, and on shaky legs you stand there watching him shove his jeans and boxers back down his thighs. 

“You’re so wet, not gonna have any issue getting in,” Dean mutters quietly. 

You moan softly at the drag of his cock through your arousal. The spongy head of him bumps against your clit and you whimper, the overstimulation becoming borderline painful. 

“What’s a’matter?” Dean asks. “Too much?”

“Uh huh,” you nod. 

“Too fucking bad.”

You moan weakly as Dean presses forward, shoving the blunt tip of his cock inside you. Involuntarily, your hips sway forward, away from the stretch. With how wet you are, there’s not much pain, but his fingers can only prepare you for the girth of his cock so far. 

Dean’s hands grab fast to your hips, pulling you back to him, the motion sinking you down onto him almost to the hilt. You gasp a moan, feeling unbelievably full to the point it knocks the air from your lungs. 

“Where you goin’?” he grunts, working his hips forward and back. “I know you’re not running from my cock after crying for it.”

“So big,” you gasp, inner walls clenching around him as you try to adjust to the sudden stretch. 

Dean leans forward, rutting his cock into you. “Stop your fucking whining and take it, pathetic slut. I can feel you dripping down my balls.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as his words hit their mark. It’s all so much; you can practically feel every vein and contour of him inside you. As he drags himself out, the bulge of his head catches on that sensitive spot, immediately making your legs shake. 

“Oh, baby, cry all you fucking want,” Dean lays a sloppy kiss to your bare shoulder. “All it’s gonna do is make me harder.”

As if in emphasis, he snaps his hips into yours. You are thrust forward, the unforgiving edge of the sink digging into your lower stomach. Blinking, the tears leak down your cheeks, rewetting the paths from the ones that had fallen earlier. 

His arm snakes around to your front, pulling you back against his chest. A big hand pulls your shirt and bra to the side, enveloping a breast. He rolls the hardened nipple between his fingers, every movement made with expert precision. 

You swear you can feel his cock in your stomach with every grinding thrust into you. His hips barely break contact with your ass like he can’t be bothered to pull out for even a second. The outcome is his cock stimulating that sensitive spot; the pressure is helped by the way the sink edge ensures he slides along it with each and every movement. 

“So fucking tight, baby,” Dean moans in your ear, still fondling your breast. “Always a perfect fuckin’ cumslut for me.”

Your hand reaches behind you both, sinking your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. His balls slap against your skin as his thrusts grow longer, his hand sliding up from your tit to your neck. He doesn’t squeeze this time, but just the feel of his calloused palm and fingers circling your throat makes you clench around his cock. 

“Fucking me…so good,” you moan out, holding a hand to his wrist. 

“Say my name, bitch. Who’s fucking you so good?” He growls, nipping at your shoulder. 

“You are, Dean,” you babble. 

The hand not on your throat dips between your legs, finding your thoroughly abused clit. A whine crawls its way up your throat and you feel his hand tighten almost imperceptibly around your neck.

“Shut up. I don’t wanna hear it,” he snaps. “Just take it. Fucking take it.”

“But—”

“I don’t care. Not my fucking problem.”

And he doesn’t, his fingers speeding up their motions on your clit. Sharp pangs stab at you with each brush of his callouses over your swollen nub. It all melts into pleasure and all you can do is push your ass back against him, meeting his thrusts. 

Dean moans his approval. “See, that’s a good whore. Feels fucking good, don’t it.”

“Yes,” you keen, slamming yourself back on his cock.

His thrusts don’t let up. Instead, they become more forceful, sending you into the sink hard enough you’re sure you are gonna have bruises on your hips tomorrow morning. His cock throbbing against your inner walls, and his panting moans in your ear have become ragged. His fingers on your clit are unrelenting, pushing you towards the brink of yet another orgasm. 

He’s all but draped over your back at this point, snapping his hips into yours erratically. Just when you think you can’t take any more, Dean groans into your ear. 

“Gonna fucking paint this pussy white, and you’re gonna take it all. Y’hear me?”

Your pussy pulses in response. “Yes, please cum in me.”

Dean moans and it’s one of the sexiest things you’ve ever heard. “That’s fucking right. Beg for my cum, bitch.”

His hand slides from your neck to your shoulder, bracing you and himself as he thrusts harder, balls slapping harshly against you. The grip is bruising, but you’re too far gone to care. 

“Please, cum in me, Dean. Need’a feel you fill me,” you whimper.

“Oh fuck, baby.”

You feel hips stutter then, his cock throbs as his orgasm hits him. He’s not quiet, moaning your name loudly.  

You can feel his cum filling you, thick ropes spurting into your pussy, and that alone sends you over the edge, yet another orgasm crashing into you. This time, your violently shaking legs give out. 

Instantly, Dean's arm wraps around your waist, holding you there as he gives a few more rutting thrusts into your pussy, milking his cock. You both stay there for a second, heavy breathing filling the room as you gasp for air. 

He breaks the silence first. “Can you stand?”

You take a second, assessing your still trembling body. Finally, you nod. 

Taking you at your word, Dean relinquishes his hold on you, leaving you to brace yourself on the sink as he walks over to the paper towel dispenser. He snags a few, using them to clean his cock off before tucking himself away. 

He doesn’t offer you any, instead he turns and unlocks the door. 

Sparing a glance over his shoulder, he gives you that sharp grin. “So, same time next month?”

You tug your clothes back into place. “Fuck you.”

“Darlin’, you just did,” is all he says before he disappears out the door. 

sam winchester was a man who could be considered calm enough. the thought of killing a fly no matter how much it bothered him, would never even cross his mind.

his head often got caught up in lore research behind each hunt, and every now and then he indulged himself by drinking until he remembered that tomorrow he had to start all over again.

but you knew him very well, very fucking well. there were almost a trillion things behind those fawn-looking eyes that even his older brother couldn't imagine, so many nasty layers that you were one hundred percent sure if any sane person would see through it, would quickly lock him up in a psychiatric hospital.

for sure he was a wonderful man. kind, greatful, sweet and the worried type to make any woman in this world fall into her knees, facing the ground and worship every step he takes with her.

nonetheless behind that generous facade, there lies a hungry man who couldn’t care less if you squirm and cry under him on a motel bed, someone who tries to delve into the deepest part of your skin without even being afraid of sounding obsessive.

he only wants you, for god’s sake!.

there was no way to stop him. everything happened too fast for your own safety, suddenly you were now in the room he shared with the other hunter, his gaze fixed on yours as if he needed to make sure you were still there, that you were still alive. because he wasn't going to let you die—not before he'd devoured you like a buffet.

the room smelled like iron and cheap motel bleach over the floor. sam didn’t looked like a hero right now, he seemed more like if something had crawled out of the pit and put on a handsome looking face. his gaze was on yours, dilated and dark while tracking the pulse on your throat.

“you’re s’fucking loud, gosh” he breathed, his tone was low and gravelly ruined. “i can hear your heart from here, feel the blood running inside you”

he didn’t wait, nor he hesitate before crawling between your milky legs and forcing your knees towards his broad shoulder.

it has been a long time since he tasted you. your period started a few days ago and he was starving, choked by the imaginary feeling of having your blood between his taste buds.

the scent of it was driving him nuts, turning him in some kind of pevert predator—primal and rot. he just wanted to tear you apart with his mouth and teeth.

sam didn’t flich at the current mess he made, instead he leaned down on it.

his large hands were bracing your thighs wide and his pretty face was burried on your heat. you let out a strangled sob as his tongue swept over your sensitive clit, dragging the thick and metallic smear across his chin.

“sam, fuck! “you pant loudly, hips bucking against his nose.

“shh, easy there,” he moaned facing your slit, his own breath becoming so hot and wet to his own pleasure.

his tongue is stroking your clit over and over again and it’s so fucking hot that you feel throbbing just by the sight of him eating you out like that. sam swears against your cunt a slightful oh my god that vibrates through your vulva.

one finger was shoved deep inside you, stretching you without any warning because this was not just for you but for him, for his own pleasure and need. he worked his fingers with a brutal and horrendous pace, the heavy fluid staining his knuckles and wrist now,

“there she is,” he would said before leaving his mouth far from your folds, “make her feel s’good that she’s leaking a lot of blood f’me”

you clenched down on his fingers, that buzzing feeling among the slick-sloppy and eager mannerism of him made you even more wet than before.

unexpectedly he let go of your legs before you could realise, now his index and middle finger were inside your gummy walls and purposely streaching your hole a little bit more— his free hand now rested on your belly, applying presure there as you slightly arched your back and whined his name like a plead.

“don’t— stop, please”

with his two fingers inside you, he left his thumb fell down on your clit, massaging slowly, applying just the right amount of force that keep you from leaking more blood. you were overstimulated already and he didn’t gave a single fuck about it.

he simply watched you fell apart, he wanted you on that jagged and edged breakdown. feel the way your walls spasmed around his fingers as you tried to crawl away from a pleasure.

“c’mon baby, give it to me,” he whimpered , biting the side of one of your thighs rough enough to leave a purple mark on it.

“you motherfu— oh fuck! “your legs weakened and the heat of your lower stomach was increasing more and more, reaching to raise your body from the mattress by the over stimulation that you were subjected to. “sam, ‘m so close— i can’t. fuck! ‘m cumming!”

you snapped.

back arched into a literal bow, and with a guttural scream tearing out of your throat as your body finally gave up entirely.

it wasn't a clean climax— it was a violent urge as you squirted all over his face. sheets ruined and drenched in blood and pussy juices, still he didn’t pull away but he huffled on it like an animal, his tongue lapping across every inch of your cunt to clean it.

and when he finally looked up, he was a goddamn nightmare—his jaw, his nose, and his cheeks were smeared with your blood.

he looked proudly at the mess he’d made of you, how your thighs still twitching and your hole was leaking, grinning so much he might get hard again just by seeing you post-orgasm.

you can’t blame him.

and even if he eats you out over and over again, you don’t refuse or hesitate.

You were caught up shampooing your hair, listening to the music to notice how the bathroom door opened and closed as Sam entered the bathroom. During the rest of the entire hunt, Dean had kept up the lingering grudge, making sure you and Sam never had a moment alone. And Sam was pent up, especially after having to watch Dean get you off. It wasn’t something Sam had expected to enjoy. While he knew he and Dean were sharing you, getting to witness someone else touching you was something he knew he wasn’t going to be able to forget. 

The only reason he hadn’t joined in was that he knew Dean would have been pissed. Dean wanted to punish him. If he had thrown caution to the wind and joined in, he wasn’t sure exactly how far Dean would have taken it the next time to teach him a lesson. Would he have fucked you in front him? Eaten you out? Just the thought had Sam half hard, imagining how you would look spread out on the bed, chest heaving, skin flushed and damp, your core leaking with arousal, back arching off the bed, muscles tightening as you tried to control yourself, until you weren’t able to any longer and you came hard enough to see stars and ruin the sheets under you.

Sam shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts as he shed his clothes. He knew he was risking your wrath but he didn’t know what else to do. He needed you. More than he thought was possible. And you were just a few steps away, naked and glistening under the water. 

You tilted your head back, eyes closed as you started to rinse the shampoo out of your hair, the suds running down your skin and down the drain. You didn’t see, but you felt a presence as the shower curtain opened and suddenly a very naked and very turned on Sam Winchester was standing in front of you, looking at you like you were his next meal. 

You yelp, slapping his arm. “Sam! You fucking scared me!” 

He just grinned, grabbing your wrist easily before you made contact with him. “Sorry. I just needed a minute with you.”

“Just a minute?” You tease, as he pulled you closer and your body collided with his. 

His other arm wrapped around your back, keeping your chest pressed against his. “Goddamn, sweetheart, why is the water so hot? Are you trying to burn your skin off?”

“What? I always take showers this hot. It feels good. Like I’m getting a really good deep clean.” You take the opportunity to run your hands up his chest, feeling his muscles flex under your touch as his thick cock presses against your stomach.

Sam hums in response. “I missed you.”

You smile. “I’ve been here.”

“Feels like you were still too far away.”

“Well, your brother knows how to hold a grudge like it is his full time job. And he has a knack for knowing when I was trying to get you alone.”

Sam chuckles, his head ducking down to press his lips against yours. “I mean, you weren’t exactly being subtle, but you can say that again.”

You melt against him, the water hitting your back as heat surrounds you from both the water and the man holding onto you. His fingers trail up and down your back, and heat blooms in your core. It could have something to do with his cock pressed against your stomach, the shiver running through you from his fingertips trailing along your skin, or the lust in his eyes as he looks down at you like you were the best thing he has ever seen in his life. 

Your arms loop around his neck, hands sliding through his hair as you pull him down. “Well, subtlety wasn’t getting me anywhere with you two. I had to step it up.”

He chuckles, his arms tightening around you. “Eventually we got the message.”

“Thank God.” You mutter, pressing your lips against his. He kisses you back urgently, like he had been waiting for this for too long. His lips are soft, even if the kiss is anything but gentle as he practically devours you like his next meal. 

You push up to your tip toes, fingers curling in his hair as you try to eliminate any space between you. Your chest presses up against his, your nipples hardening against the friction of his skin against yours. He groans into your mouth and you take the opportunity to lick inside his mouth, tasting him. His hands travel down your waist to grip your ass, squeezing and massaging the ample flesh in his large hands. 

“Fuck, Sam.” You murmur as he turns you both around, his back now under the spray of the water. He leans his head back, wetting his hair as you watch him, your hands sliding down his chest. His eyes are closed as droplets of water run down his face, neck, and chest. You are barely able to contain a moan at how incredibly sexy he looks, how good he feels against you. Unable to help yourself, you lick a stripe up his chest, right between his pecs, tasting the combination of the water, the lingering salt on his skin, as well as something that is just Sam. 

You can almost feel his heart stutter as he looks down at you, skin flushed, soaking wet, his beautiful eyes blown out with a desperate want. “You are killing me, sweetheart.” He croaks out.

You bite your lip, a wicked smirk pulling at the corner of your lips as you slowly sink to your knees in front of him. You hold his gaze the entire time before dragging your eyes down his body until you are staring directly at his cock. “Might as well enjoy the ride then.”  

You lick your lips, hands running up his thighs, purposefully letting your fingernails lightly graze his skin. His hips buck forwards involuntarily, searching out anything to ease the ache that has been building inside him for the last week and a half. 

You tsk, taunting him. “Easy, baby. I haven’t even touched you properly yet.”

Sam chuckles, but his voice is hoarse like it is taking everything in himself not to just grab you and take what he desperately needs. He braces a hand against the wall of the shower, and the other comes down to stroke your cheek. “Careful. You might be calling the shots right now, but when it is your turn, just remember, I have a good memory.”

You hum in acknowledgement, taking him in your hand, slowly stroking him. Just watching his face twist in pleasure before you place a kiss against the bulbous leaking reddened tip. You swirl your tongue around him, giving in to your desire to taste him, as his flavor explodes on your tastebuds. You aren’t sure whose moan is louder, as you continue, working his shaft slowly with your hand as you lavish attention on him with your mouth and tongue. 

You don’t let him too far into your mouth just yet, wanting to tease the hell out of him, knowing what it will earn you in return. You keep your movements slow and controlled as his hand slides into your hair, gripping the strands like it can keep him anchored to this moment. With every lick, kiss, and gentle suction of your mouth, he seems to grow impossibly harder. He tries to control himself, but groans deep in his chest. 

“Fuck, you look so good on your knees for me.” He says, and your back straightens at the praise, your rhythm staggering for a moment, and just grins wickedly. “Oh. Do you like me telling you are such a good girl while you tease me like you don’t want to be gagging on this cock?”

You moan around him, keeping your hand on the base of his length as your other hand grips his thigh as you take him deeper in your mouth. 

“Just like that, baby.” He encourages, knowing he has found the perfect way to get you to do exactly what he wants. “Show me exactly how much you want me.”

If you weren’t turned on before, you definitely were now with his cock hitting the back of your throat and his honey sweet words in your ear. Your tongue swirls over every ridge, every vein, every bit of him that you could fit in your mouth. His hips buck into your mouth, pushing him deeper and you moan, your fingers digging into the skin of this thigh. His mouth drops open on a moan as the slight pain mixes with the sheer amount of pleasure you are giving him. God, if the man would keep praising you would let him fuck your throat until it was raw and had memorized the shape of him. 

You suck down on him as your hips start to undulate, searching for some friction to ease the need building inside you. 

“You look so sexy, like a fucking goddess. Can’t wait to sink into your pussy and show you everything you have been missing your entire life.” He continues, his hand tightening in your hair, pulling just to the point of pain as his other hand holds your neck, thumb stroking your cheek in encouragement. 

You whimper around him, hand and mouth moving in tandem, wanting him to keep going, wanting to hear every depraved thing he could possibly say, wanting to show him everything you need. He starts to pant above you, muscles trembling as he tries to hold still and let you lead, but it is getting harder and harder to hold on.

“Do you want me to come in your mouth? You want that don’t you? Want to taste me and swallow every ounce of my cum like a good little slut? Bet you wouldn’t waste a single drop, would you?”

Your eyes pop open and you look up at him. He grins down at you like he knows exactly what he is doing.

“Yeah, you like that too, don’t you? Come on, baby. Make me come, and I’ll give you everything you want. Everything you need.”

You are functioning on pure instinct without a thought in your mind as you continue, and you can’t imagine anything being more important than this right now. He closes his eyes and you can feel it a split second before he comes, the inevitability as you suck down one last time and he spills himself in your mouth and down your throat with a groan of your name. You keep working him through until you have devoured every drop. He feels heavy on your tongue, softening slowly as you pull away. Sam watches at you with a look of reverence before he is pulling you off your knees to kiss you. More like inhale you with the way his lips moved against yours, tongue dipping into your mouth to taste himself mixed with you, the flavor a perfect combination. His arms wrap around you, holding you up as you melt into his solid body. Your hands move along his water slickened skin, wanting to feel every bit of him against you.

When you try to twine your arms around his neck, his hands follow yours, grabbing and pulling them back down between you both. Then he turns you until your back is against his chest, and he presses you into the shower wall. Your nipples pebble against the cold wet tile, hands pressed against the wall, his hands covering your wrists, keeping them in place for the moment.

“Sam, what are you doing?” You whine as he pushes your hair over your shoulder, lips following down the column of your neck, a shiver running down your spine. He presses closer and his semi hard cock nudges against the cleft of your ass. His hands slide around your abdomen, fingers brushing against the bottom of your breasts.

“I haven’t gotten to touch you in so long. Are you gonna let me make you feel good?” He whispers in your ear. You nod in response. You would let him do whatever he wanted to you. 

He palms your breasts, weighing and massaging your flesh as your head falls back against his chest. You moan, arching into his touch, feeling his smile against your skin, the slight scrape of stubble he didn’t shave this morning. His teeth nip your sensitive skin lightly testing your reaction before he is sucking a bruise into your neck. You can barely think as his fingers tug at your nipples, twisting just enough that the pleasure shoots through you straight to your core. 

You grind back against him, feeling him harden against you, thick and ready to fill you completely. Which is all you want, all you crave. You want to feel him sliding in and out of you, making you feel like you are the only thing he could ever want. The only thing worth losing his never ending self control for. You want to be the one to push him over the edge again and again. 

One of his hands releases your breast, gliding down your body to your heated core. His fingers dance along your slit, a teasing pressure before a finger dips in, sliding past your clit to dip just into your entrance. 

You gasp, wanting more. “Please, Sam.”

He feels just how soaked and ready you are for him, your slick coating his finger. “All this for me? I’ve barely touched you. Is this how soaked you get with my cock in your mouth?” He asks.

He brings his fingers back to your bundle of nerves, applying just enough pressure to send pleasure all the way to your toes, as they curl in anticipation. You are so focused on his actions and the bliss shooting through your body that you don’t answer him, a soft whine the only thing leaving your lips.

“Well, sweetheart, that isn’t really an answer.” But he doesn’t stop stroking you, almost like he likes that you are unable to answer him.

“What?” You ask breathlessly.

“I wanted to know how wet you got from just sucking my cock.” 

“Fuck. So wet, Sam. So fucking wet. Wanted to know if you would feel as good as you taste.” 

His hips buck, pressing his cock against your ass and lower back, feeling just how much he wants to know how you would feel wrapped around him.

“I’m not fucking you in the shower for the first time.” He murmurs in your ear and you whine. His chest rumbles with a chuckle you can feel vibrating through you.

“Why not?” 

“You deserve more than a quick fuck in the shower.” He says two fingers breaching your entrance and you gasp at the intrusion. 

“I don’t know about that. A quick fuck in the shower sounds really nice right now. Sounds pretty perfect actually.” 

Teeth press against your shoulder as he nips at you. You turn your head towards Sam and he kisses you, fingers slowly fucking you, curling perfectly against the sensitive spot inside you. Your eyes close against the overwhelming sensations running through your body. 

“God, that feels so good, Sam.”

He keeps fucking you with his fingers as you feel his body moving down yours, his lips kissing down your spine as he lowers himself to the floor. You barely realize what is about to happen when his fingers slip from you, lifting your thigh up so your foot rests on the ledge of the bathtub, leaving you open for him. He pulls your hips back, causing your back to arch as his hands spread your ass, every part of you on display to his gaze, slick, pink and swollen.

He dives in eagerly, like he has been waiting forever to get a taste of you, tongue lapping thick stripes from your clit to entrance. You almost lose your grip against the wall, your legs nearly buckling as Sam wastes no time, seemingly wanting to see you in a puddle on the shower floor as he devours you, the vibrations of his moans ricocheting through you. His hands settle on your hips, helping hold you up. 

Your face drops, pressing against the cool wall as you pant, every swipe of his tongue making your eyes clench shut. You arch further, pressing back against his mouth and he groans in approval, keeping you steady. His tongue circles your clit with a delicious pressure that has you seeing stars. 

All you can do is moan his name as the pressure builds and builds inside you with every swipe of his tongue. When his lips wrap around your clit, sucking down on you, you nearly scream, and your knees would have buckled if it weren’t for his arms holding you steady. You think he is going to take pity on you when he releases his lips until his tongue is pressing inside your entrance, fucking you slowly, causing you to clench desperately against him.  

One of your hands lets go of the wall, sliding down to grip his hand on your hip, like you need to touch him in order to ground yourself in the moment or else you will float away. Then his other hand travels to your clit, his fingers deftly playing you like he knows exactly what you need to let go. 

All the sensations are starting to overwhelm you as your thighs tremble against the onslaught, barely hanging onto sanity as he does his best to tip you over the edge. 

“Sam…Sam, I can’t.” You whimper. “I’m gonna…fuck, I’m gonna come.” 

He groans, keeping steady as he works you into oblivion and when you come, it feels like a tsunami sweeping you away with pleasure, overwhelming and unavoidable. Your nails dig into his hands and you nearly collapse against the shower wall, and Sam doesn’t stop, fingers and tongue working in tandem as wave after wave of absolute bliss roll over you. You can feel everything tenfold, the water droplets rolling down your body, the weight of the humidity in the room with each inhale as you gasp and cry out Sam’s name, the way your muscles threaten to give out on you. 

As you slowly come to, Sam pulls back, a grin on his face that you can’t see as you close your eyes, focusing all your energy on staying upright. He stands up behind you, his hands anchoring you as he turns you around to face him. You face tips back as you blink your eyes open.

“Are you good?” He asks as you lean into him.

“Phenomenal.” You murmur, the rest of your shower routine completely forgotten. 

When you finally emerge from the bathroom, you are hanging off each other, kissing each other as you stumble into the hallway. His towel is slung low around his hips, and yours is barely hanging on.

“Oh, so he gets to interrupt your showers?” Dean asks, crossing his arms, the look on his face fully judging you both.

You jump apart, not expecting Dean to be there. You hand held against your chest, willing your heartbeat to slow, as Sam says, “It was more efficient. I just got back from a run, and I needed to clean off.”

“Needed to clean off, my ass.” Dean grumbles as he walks away.

“What was that, Dean?” You ask innocently.

“I hope you guys had fun.” Dean calls back.

“We did.” You call down the hallway loud enough for Dean to hear as he turns the corner. All you can see before he rounds the corner is his middle finger up, flipping you both off. You giggle already knowing exactly how you plan on making it up to him.

The next day, Sam decided to go out to get groceries, since no one had bothered restocking since returning from the case and you were running low on everything. Which left you and Dean alone in the bunker. You found him in the war room, on the phone with Sam with his laptop open in front of him. You lean against the wall, just watching him and his exasperated expression as he argued with Sam over whether or not a fruit pie could be considered a fruit salad and hence he was being healthy. The man would go to any length to eat like a child. 

Speaking of eating…you were feeling kinda hungry. Pushing off the wall, you slink across the room, closing the laptop and pushing it out of the way to perch on the edge of the table. Dean smirked appreciatively as he glanced over at you, tilting his head like he wasn’t sure exactly what you wanted. Well, he was about to find out. You gesture for him to scoot his chair back from the table, which he does with narrowed eyes. You slide from the edge of the table down until your knees hit the floor. 

Dean’s eyes widen in shock as you settle between his legs. He swallows, his words sputtering as his brain tries to comprehend exactly what is about to happen. Like he might have dreamed about this happening, but now that you are here he can barely believe it. And he doesn’t seem to be able to do more than one thing at a time, losing his focus on his conversation with Sam as he watches you reach for his belt, undoing it slowly and pulling it from the loops of his jeans. 

He gulps, throat bobbing as your hands quickly undo the button and zipper of his jeans, urging him to lift his hips so you can pull the offending fabric down his legs to get to where you really want. His cock presses against the fabric of his boxers already hard and trying to escape the confines, twitching like he is anticipating exactly how your mouth will feel, how your lips will wrap around him so perfectly. 

When you peel his boxers away, licking your lips, Dean thinks he might explode right there as you glance up at him with a wicked smirk, and he thinks for a minute that you might be trying to get your revenge on him for teasing the hell out of you in front of Sam the other night. If so, he might die a happy man. This was the intended outcome, but he wouldn’t complain. He clutches the phone so hard, his knuckles turn white and you wonder for a moment if the phone is going to crack in his palm.

You had been dreaming of tasting his cock for so long, you weren’t about to hold back and tease him. But you take a moment to admire his cock, long and thick, the head rounded, red with a drop of precum already leaking from his slit. Dean could only watch you, his breath deep, heavy as he waits, the conversation with Sam the last thing on his mind, even with the phone still pressed against his ear. 

And then you wrap your hand around the base of his cock, stroking him once. Twice. You hold him still as your tongue darts out to swirl around the tip, pressing a kiss against him. Dean groans and it is the sexiest thing you might have ever heard, you might give anything to hear that again.

“Dean, are you okay? What the hell is going on?” Sam asks.

“Sammy, I gotta go. Got…stuff…to do. Yeah. Stuff. Fuck, that’s…” Dean says, and you both know Sam knows exactly what is happening while he is out of the bunker.

You smile up at Dean, raising your eyebrows towards the phone before fully taking him in your mouth. His hips flex in response, and you moan, letting the vibrations run through you into the most sensitive part of him. 

“God damn.” He mutters, biting his lip as he watches you, the phone hanging limply in his hand, the conversation with Sam completely forgotten. Then he tosses the phone onto the table, turning his attention fully on you, watching his cock half disappear into your mouth with each bob of your head. 

His fingers brush back your hair, one hand gathering the strands in his hand, keeping ahold of you as your eyes glance up. His face is a mix of concentration as his brows are furrowed together, eyes heavy lidded as you move, taking him deeper with each pass. You want to feel him everywhere, willing yourself to always remember this moment where the world has narrowed down to the two of you in this room. His mouth drops open on a groan as your wrist twists moving with your head to drive him right to the edge. 

If his hand tightening in your hair and the clench of his thighs weren’t signs enough that the man was about to come, he growls deep in his chest, like he was trying to keep the sound contained. For a moment, you think about stopping just to hear that noise again, but you know the revenge he would enact would be torture. A sweet wonderful torture, but still torture, and you were already on edge yourself. 

Instead, you redouble your efforts, trying to make Dean come as you suck down with each drag of your mouth along his cock. His eyes nearly roll back at the sensation and when you moan again, the vibrations set him off, thick ropes of his release hitting the back of your throat as he pants out your name. You grin, swallowing each and every drop you can, even as some spills out of your mouth. He tastes like heaven, salty and musky.

You are tempted to keep going, wanting to see how long he would let you suck and lick and tease until he was pushing you away overstimulated. But you decided to take it easy on him today, there was always time later to push his buttons.

Dean looks down at you as you pull away, a drop of his cum on the corner of your mouth. His hand gently grips your chin, lifting your head up further, thumb swiping at the drop. You open your lips and his thumb slides in and you suck down. His eyes flare with desire again, and when he pulls his thumb from your mouth and you push up from the floor, climbing onto his lap to kiss him.

Dean’s arms wrap around you as he kisses you with a ferocity you should have been expecting, tongue invading your mouth to taste himself on you. You match his passion with your own, moaning into his mouth as your arms wrap around his neck, pulling yourself as close against him as you can get. As you straddle him, the only layers separating you are your shorts and panties. You grind down, his thick length already starting to harden again and search out your entrance. 

He pulls back just enough to murmur against your lips. “I’m about to make some bad decisions if you don’t stop.”

“Who says it’s a bad decision?” You ask, nose bumping into his, urging him to give in. He nips at your bottom lip, and your nails drag against his scalp. “Come on, baby. What’s the worst that can happen?”

“Such a fucking temptation.” He groans, hands running down your back before grabbing the hem and lifting the fabric up. You smile, thinking you won, as you lift your arms, helping him remove your shirt. He drops it on the floor, leaning back to let his eyes run over your body.

“It isn’t something you haven’t seen before.” You tease, pressing your chest out, trying to entice him further. 

His eyes barely glance up at yours before returning to your breasts. His tongue darts out, licking along the edge of your bra. You swallow, his hands pulling at the straps of your bra, leaving them hanging against your arms before swiftly unclasping your bra and letting the fabric fall down. 

“It isn’t a sight I’m ever going to get sick of.” He says, like it is the most obvious thing in the world, bringing a blush to your cheeks. 

You toss your bra to the floor and his lips latch around one nipple, teeth scraping against your sensitive skin before his tongue swirls, soothing the slight sting of his teeth. You gasp, hands landing on his shoulders as he sucks down, pleasure shooting straight to your core. You grind down, trying to relieve the pressure building, his cock rubbing against you almost perfectly. You reach down, pulling your shorts and underwear out of the way, sighing in relief as you move your hips. 

He groans as the head of his cock presses against your clit. His hips buck in response, pushing himself closer to your entrance, as his mouth switches to your other breast. His hand comes up to massage the now abandoned breast, tugging and twisting your nipple. 

“Dean, I can’t. Please. I need…I need…” You gasp out. 

“Tell me what you need.” He growls against you.

“You. I need you.” You start to lift your hips, trying to angle his cock at your entrance, but right as you start to sink down, his cock just barely enters you, his hands clasp your hips, stopping you. 

Your eyes flare, groaning in frustration. “Please, Dean.”

He nearly gives in to the lust shining in your eyes, reflecting the same need in his. But he lifts you onto the table. “I’m not letting you screw me in a chair with your shorts pulled out of the way the first time I fuck you.”

“You and Sam are fucking impossible. I need to get laid.”

He chuckles humorlessly. “You and me both, sweetheart.”

You lay back on the table, lifting your hips and slide down your shorts and underwear off, kicking them across the room. “I’m literally on a platter, Dean.” The desperation in your voice evident as you plead, trying to convey how much you need him.

His hand strokes his cock lazily, feeling the evidence of your desire spread along his length. He can’t think of anything he wants more in this moment than to slide into you, feeling you stretch around him. He would like to try and break the damn table you are laying on if he was completely honest. He is halfway sure he would be able to, considering how much he needs you too. He barely tucks himself back in his boxers, the fabric tented and barely containing him. He doesn’t bother fastening his jeans, knowing it would be torture to feel the denim strapping him down. Then he stands and leans over your naked body, fingers grazing against your skin as he kisses your neck. 

“You are.” He murmurs, starting to leave small biting kisses down the length of your body. “Perfectly laid out for me. And sweetheart—I’m starving.”

Dean drops to his knees, hands gripping your thighs to pull your body down until your ass is at the edge of the table, before spreading your thighs apart so he can see every part of you. He kisses your inner thigh, and you lift up to your elbows to watch him, your bottom lip in your teeth, the anticipation killing you. 

Dean glances up, smirking at you. “You can lay down and relax. You know I’ll take good care of you.”

Then his arm presses against your stomach, urging you to lay back and once you do, he maneuvers your legs over his shoulders, his hands grab your hips to keep you from squirming back. One of your hands grips the edge of the table, already knowing you are going to need something to keep you grounded. 

He blows gently, the cool air a sharp contrast against your heated wet core and your body jerks. He presses a kiss against you, before his tongue is parting your folds, a thick stripe from entrance to your clit before he circles the tip of his tongue around you. His movements are slow, methodical, like he wants to draw this out for as long as possible. Like he wants to take you to the edge again and again, like he is content to spend hours between your thighs, for the rest of his life if it were possible.

You let out a sigh, a low moan in your throat and Dean smiles against you, repeating the motion, as your taste explodes on his tongue, sweet and musky and perfect. 

He pulls back, kissing your thigh. “Does that feel good?”

You groan in frustration. “Of course it feels good. Why did you stop? Do you need more validation?” 

He nips at your thigh in response. “Careful, sweetheart. I can make this last forever.”

You take a deep breath, letting go of the table to slide your fingers through his hair as you tug him closer. “Dean, please. Less talking.”

“I do like the pleading.” He murmurs, diving back in as his tongue circles your clit with precision. Your back arches off the table, trying to get closer to him. 

“Just like that.” You moan, tugging at his short hair. Dean groans into you, the vibrations spreading throughout your body. Your thighs clench around his head, hips rolling. His hand flattens on your stomach, keeping your movements to a minimum and his tongue sinks into your core, as his thumb strums your clit in short strokes. 

You cry out, eyes bursting open as you look down. He feasts on you, lavishing you with his full attention, and you take a deep breath trying to control the tightening in your lower abdomen, threatening you with something you aren’t going to be able to control.

When two thick fingers replace his tongue, your eyes nearly roll back, as you gasp, the stretch perfect as he finger fucks you, his finger scissoring, stretching you further. 

“Fuck! Yes, baby.” You pant, your nails scratching against Dean’s scalp. His lips wrap around your clit and the suction feels absolutely divine as his tongue laps at you. Your toes curl and the pressure builds inside your core. You aren’t sure how long you are going to be able to control this until you are free falling into him. 

He pulls off you with a pop. “Just let it happen.” He encourages as he adds a third finger, rubbing perfectly against your g-spot. Then his lips wrap around your clit again.

His name is the only thing you can say, as you repeat it with increasingly breathless tones. Your impending release is getting close enough to taste and your thighs tremble. Then you are screaming his name, as your orgasm rolls over you in waves of pure unadulterated ecstasy. With each gasp and pant, Dean smiles, drinking down your release like it is a sweet wine as he works you through until you are a whimpering twitching mess against the table. Your eyes open slowly, coming back down to the bunker in a slow gentle descent.  

Dean lays his head against your thigh, watching you with a content grin on his face. His hands rub your hips soothingly, and you lay on the table, dazed. Sated. Like you couldn’t even try to use the brain God gave you. 

You are completely content to stay right where you are forever, but after a few minutes Dean shrugs off his flannel shirt, tossing it to you, and you groan as you sit up, pulling it over yourself and buttoning it up.

Dean sits back in his chair, pulling it closer to the table. You lean forward, brushing your lips against his. “Feel free to do that again at any time.”

His fingers trace along your cheek. “If you thought that was the last time I’m ever doing that, you don’t know me as well as you thought you did.”

You smile softly. “Just wanted to give you full and complete permission.”

“Noted.” He says, kissing you back.

When the door slams open and Sam comes down the stairs of the bunker, you and Dean finally pull apart, watching him breathing heavily like he ran all the way back.

“In a rush, Sammy?”

You smile at Sam, clearly still floating in your afterglow. “You missed a very thorough…exploration. But I’m more than happy to continue if you give me a few minutes.”

Dean snorts. “Exploration?”

You shrug. “What’s wrong with exploration?”

“You are making it sound like I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“I said it was thorough.”

Dean gives you the most offended look he could. You widen your eyes at him before looking at Sam. “He knew what he was doing.”

Sam sputters, exasperated. “What the… Yeah. I’m sure he does.”

“I think he just needs validation.” You say, turning back to Dean. “I haven’t come that hard in a long time—”

Sam coughs, his turn to look offended.

“Since yesterday.” You say quickly correcting yourself. “Sam knows what he is doing too.”

“You don’t need to spare his feelings. We all know who the winner of this contest would be.” Dean says, and you smack his chest.

“Good Lord. Not everything is a competition.”

“Ouch!” He says, rubbing the spot you hit.

“That did not hurt.” You say. “Probably hurt your ego more than anything.”

“You might want to be nicer to the man you want to go down on you again.”

You stick your tongue out at him, and Sam clears his throat, pulling up another chair to the table. “Actually, maybe this would be a good time to talk.”

You watch as Dean and Sam look at each other, glancing between each other like they already know what the conversation is going to be about.

“Talk?” You ask.

“We have been talking…” Dean says at the same time Sam starts. “There is something we wanted to discuss with you.”

You tilt your head, looking between the two of them. “Obviously now is the best time.” You say, trying to come up with a cohesive thought. “Considering my brain is functioning at peak performance right now and not almost ready for a nap.”

“Well, you should be in a great mood after all that.” Dean counters, and you narrow your eyes at him. 

“What exactly do you guys want to talk about?” You ask cautiously. 

“Us. Being together.” Dean says.

“I mean if it is anything like that, I don’t think there will be a problem.” You mumble.

Sam chuckles, squeezing your leg. “It’s not that. We just…don’t want our first time with you to be with each other in the room.”

Dean nods, explaining further. “We just want to have you to ourselves first before we are sharing you.”

That’s fair. You hadn’t considered the logistics beyond what your body was screaming you to have. “I can understand that. It makes sense. But why wait until now to bring it up? It isn’t like I was going to say no.”

It was Dean’s turn to chuckle. “Well, we were going to bring it up tonight after dinner, but since we are all here. Actually, I wasn’t expecting Sammy to show up so quickly.” He turns to Sam. “If you messed up baby by driving her crazy just to get here, I’ll kick your ass.”

Sam does a double take at Dean. “Dude. I didn’t hurt your car. But after hearing that on the phone, you think I was going to be able to stay in the store? I had to get out before it became a problem.”

“If you did hurt baby—”

“I know! You will kick my ass. You said that already.” Sam mutters.

Dean looks like he is going to argue with Sam so you cut in again. “So, like what? Are you both going to take me on a date? Are we having sex here in the bunker with the other person around?”

“Do you want us to take you on a date?”

“That’s besides the point.” You say quickly. “I’m just trying to figure this out. And who is going first—you are not playing rock, paper, scissors to decide this time.” 

They both have the decency to look properly repentant. You tilt your head, worrying your bottom lip with your teeth. “You guys are serious though? Are you okay with being with me? At the same time?”

Just mentioning it has your thighs clenching together, even though you just came hard enough to see the entire universe. Especially if what just happened is a precursor for what having them both at the same time would be like…you would be very satisfied. Worn out. Well used. You couldn’t wait.

Sam and Dean’s eyes darted down as your thighs clenched, ever the perceptive hunters they are. Both of their faces broke out into a cocky satisfied smirk, their minds clearly in the gutter. Fingertips danced up your thighs, treading dangerously close to where you were aching for them, your body already wet and needy again. 

“Insatiable, aren’t we?” Sam teases. 

“Don’t act like you aren’t going to benefit from the fact.” You snap back, but the breathless quality of your voice lessened the sting of your words. 

“Oh, I definitely plan on benefiting.” He croons, and you lean forward, smirk on your face as you close the distance between you and Sam. Your lips almost brush together when Dean clears his throat. 

“Save that for later or else we are both going to end up fucking you right here.” He says low in his throat. You turn to look at him, seeing how much he wants just that, battling with wanting to have you to himself before he shares you with his brother. 

You force yourself to lean back, nodding. If they wanted to each take some time with you, you were going to respect that. Even if all you wanted was to have both of them now, in ten minutes, tomorrow, forever. 

“I’ll even let Sammy go first. I wouldn’t want you to be disappointed.” He says, winking. “Gotta save the best for last.”

“First of all, just because you have slept with half the women across the country doesn’t mean—”

Dean holds up his hands, unashamed. “I’m just saying. The results speak for themselves.”

You snort, hopping off the table. You gather up your clothes, starting to make your way towards your bedroom as Sam and Dean argue. 

“Can I get my shirt back?” Dean yells back at you.

You pop your head back around the wall. “Come get it yourself.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“Maybe that’s exactly what I want to do.” You smile, biting your bottom lip. A silent challenge. 

His hands grab the armrests as he starts to move before settling back in the chair. He leans back, crossing his legs. “On second thought…I want you to think about everything I’m going to do to you once I have you by myself. Every single way I’m going to make you scream my name.”

You definitely would be thinking about what was to come from both of them. 

Thanks for reading! 😊🩷

I don’t know how long it will take me to write the next three to be honest. I want to make sure to do them justice and I have a feeling they will end up being longer than the 2,000ish words each one has been up to this point.