Unicorns Are Real.

Dean likes to watch.

There’s something dangerous and so wrong about watching you, especially if you don’t know that he’s there. It’s like reading your diary, or using a spell to sneak into your subconscious. 

It doesn’t help that you seem to be louder when you’re alone... your tongue a bit looser, clearly moaning what you’re thinking about. 

God, the things it does to him when you moan his name... He can barely stand it. Yet he waits... lurking in the doorway... eyes peering through the crack. Hey, you left the door open... you woulda locked it if you didn’t want an audience, right? 

“Dean... Dean... Dean!” 

He knows that sound... recognizes that hitch of your breath as the moment right before you cum, and every ounce of blood is packed tight into his dick. 

“Dean...”

Yet, he watches. Waiting. Dreaming of you reaching out to him in that golden moment, begging for him to fuck you through the bliss. He presses his hand down hard over his erection, moaning in the back of his throat as he tries to quell his lust. 

“Dean!” 

He bites his lip, keeps staring as you twist and turn on the bed, your hands stuffed between your juicy thighs. 

“Dean...”

Maybe he’ll push the door open as you cum, startle you, making you beg for it. But maybe not.