Stargazer✨💋🗡️

He's chewing away at something, the chips from the bowl behind you. He looks at you, waiting for your answer.

"You don't go here, do you?" You smile without thinking, it's not a question of obstruction but intrigue. If he did you'd recognise him, if you'd ever even seen him before you'd recognise him, that's not the kind of face you forget.

"I'm that obvious?" He chuckles, grin plastered across his face. He's not been caught- he clearly doesn't care. You wait expectantly as he finishes the chips, swallows, "I'm visiting family."

"Anyone I'd know?"

"His names Sammy- Sam. Sam Win-"

"Winchester? You're Dean-" You speak with a kind of admiration you don't mean to.

He looks concerned, "Yeah I- how'd you know that?"

"We studied together- he uh- he mentioned you."

"He mentioned you too, said I'd find a gorgeous angel among this crowd tonight-"

You know better, "No, he didn't."

"You're right, he didn't- but he should've-"

You shake your head, turn away from him. It's on the tip of your tongue- Chase? Chay?

"He- uh- he doesn't exactly know I'm here- so if you could keep it quiet-"

You nod, don't turn to look at him. You're trying to keep on the task at hand.

"What's y'name?"

You keep your eyes forward as you tell him, trying not to give in to the draw of the question.

"So-" he steps up next to you, you can see him in your periphery, "-y'gonna sleep with him?"

"What's it to you?" You still don't look at him- that's a risk you're not willing to take. You're certain of one thing, Dean definitely is your type. And if you look at him again, you're not stopping any time soon.

"You've been starin' at him for the last hour- haven't smiled once. No cute lil giggles, no twirlin' your hair- sweetheart you look pissed."

That makes you break. You turn back to him, that grin still plastered across his face. He looks tired. Still hot, and strong and handsome and all the other words you're trying not to think- but tired all the same. The kind of tired guys like Chad-Chase-Chet don't ever look. Sam has that kinda tired. You have that kinda tired.

"I look- interested? Don't I?"

"Yeah- interested like oh look at this spider I've trapped in a glass not interested like I want this guy to fuck me into next week."

You laugh. It's a stupid laugh, like teenage giggles- cute lil giggles. You shake your head, "If I've been staring at him for the last hour, you've been looking at me for the last hour."

Now he's caught. He gives a hesitant chuckle, "I uh- well that's-"

"I'm not saying I mind." You smile up at him, keeping your face straight, trying not to let on how much you're enjoying his squirming.

"That so?"

"Only if you've been looking at me with the good kinda interested."

His face floods warm, not quite blushing but he's not far off. Flirting he seems used to, teasing maybe less so. You don't normally tease- it's fun.

You hand him the solo cup in your hand, watch as he takes a second to study the lipgloss stain on the rim, then he presses his lips to the same imprint, takes a swallow, hands it back.

"Sam's from Kansas, right?"

He nods.

"So- you're from Kansas, too?"

He nods again, like you're putting two and two together in an equation he didn't know you were solving.

"So tell me, Dean, why have you traveled across- what, five states- just to avoid your brother and come to a party you clearly don't wanna be at?"

"Hey- I wanna be here-"

"No, you don't- you haven't even got your own drink- you look like someone who wants to leave-"

"Okay, sorority parties aren't exactly my scene, especially not ones with pink decorations and bad music and-" he takes you in for a second, let's his eyes fall down your body. You watch as he notices your short pink skirt, right on theme, the heels you didn't really want to wear. For someone who's supposedly been looking at you for an hour, he's only just got a view of your body, "-oh my god, you're a sorority girl-"

"Yup." you hide a smile, try to look vexed, "I even picked out all those decorations you like so much-"

"I didn't mean-"

"You're right-" you break your smile, keep hold of your laugh, "-they're tacky-" you look at the pink balloons by the door, the streamers you put up this afternoon, "-but they're the kinda tacky people like-"

He nods, swayed by your ill-conceived argument.

"So why are you here?" You smile again, drop your gaze only slightly to his lips, the tiny sheen of your lip gloss dancing on the bottom one. It's barely visible, but you know it's there, you bet he can taste it.

He reaches into his jacket pocket with a smile, pulls out a small see-though bag of weed. You recognize it, you've smoked before- but not since you joined the sorority, not since you started college- not since you earned the scholarship that got you here in the first place.

You've been good, real good. Straight-A good. Blow-up-balloons-for-the-party good. Hold-a-girls-hair-back-while-she-vomits good. Absolutely-no-drugs good.

You're so bored of being good.

You reach out to grab his hand, enclosing your fist around his fist around the bag. His skin is hot, fire against your own.

"Are you seriously trying to sell pot right now?"

"I've got other shit too-"

"You really can't do that here." You keep hold of his hand for moments longer than you need to, you like how it feels.

"Scared I'll get you in trouble?" He teases.

"I'm scared you'll get yourself in trouble- the girl's here aren't exactly pro-drugs-"

"Are you?" He cocks an eyebrow.

You break apart as a girl sidles past you, a sweet smile on her face as she catches your eye, "Chance keeps looking at you-"

Chance. You were so close.

She walks off again as you turn back round. She's right- his eyes are still on you, that cocky smile that looks more patronising than confident. He clearly hasn't noticed Dean, it doesn't seem like many people have. He's got that kind of incongruence that blends in rather than stands out.

You feel as he steps up next to you again, looking out into the sea of people.

"There's that million dollar question again, sweetheart- y'gonna sleep with him?"

"Yeah- yeah, I am-" You turn back to face him with a smile, "-Unless I get a better offer."

He grins, shameless, "I'm staying in a motel, it's not far."

"What can I do at the motel I can't do here?" You know the correct answer - him - but you want to hear him say it.

He thinks for a moment, "You can smoke my weed?"

That works too.

You grab his hand as you weave through the crowd, lacing your fingers into his, tight. No one's looking, it's like he's sharing that secret ability to go unnoticed as you shift through people, make your way towards the door. It's takes getting outside for him to start leading you, his fingers slipping out of yours to wrap around your waist, pulling you gently towards his car.

He presses his lips to your ear, a low whisper, the heat from his breath brushing past you, "You're fuckin' gorgeous-"

The words go right through you, sleek and thick- the way he says it, like it's a secret he can't help but spill.

You realize you're at his car as he opens the door for you, trying to be such a gentleman while he takes you back to a motel to be fucked into next week- as he put it. You giggle slightly at the action and he smiles, he knows it's an empty gesture just as much as you do. You slide in, let the vinyl leather seats cool your skin.

You're not drunk, you never get drunk at parties, but part of you wishes you were. You want the cool air to sooth you, not chill you, you want to blame the alcohol rather than your very clear mind.

He takes his seat next to you and turns the engine on in a singular practiced move, throws an arm over your shoulder as he turns back to reverse. He catches your eye as he straightens out again, that smile still there. He has a look on his face, set deep into his jaw- a kind of desperation he's trying not to show. In need of stress relief. That's all you are tonight. That's fine, that's all he is too.

He glances down at your thigh, bare but visible even in the dark. He reaches out, takes hold- not firm, but possessive all the same. His thumb rubs against your skin, soft.

"Y'know, you really shouldn't be going to motels with strangers, sweetheart-" A chuckle as he chastises you, "-I could be a serial killer for all you know."

"If you're anything like Sam, you're too well-mannered to be a killer."

His smile breaks for a moment as he nods, the mention of his brother clearly kicking him in a way you didn't mean to.

Then he laughs again, "I should warn y', I ain't gonna be well-mannered the second I get you naked-"

You bite your lip at the confession, squeeze your thighs together instinctively.

He glances over to you, rubs his thumb again, "Fuck you're adorable."

He doesn't say it like a compliment, the words almost seem like a challenge, a dare.

You reach out, run your hand up his jean clad thigh, not even thinking as you cup the sizable bulge at his groin.

He lerches back, but tightens his grip on your thigh to keep you there.

"Fucking hell sweetheart, are you trying to make me crash?" He laughs through his hesitation.

You don't reply, just slowly unzip his fly. He sucks in a sharp breath, holds it as you push your hand past his waistband, let your fingers wrap around his hardening cock. It feels large, growing harder under your touch- twitches slightly as your run your thumb over the head.

You tug his waistband down, letting his cock spring free. Even in the dim pulsating streetlight you can see just how pretty it is- the cherry-red head is already swollen as you brush your thumb past it again, veins noticeable against the pale shaft. He's clearly cut back some of the hair, it's kempt- that surprises you. He lets go of your thigh, wraps his hand around the wheel tight, trying to keep his focus on the road ahead, his jaw clenching.

You lean forward, let your lips wrap around the head. You feel the car jerk, a stuttering brake as he pulls it straight again, let's go of the breath he's been holding. You push your head down slowly, let your tongue glide across his shaft as you move your hand down the the base, grip it tighter.

He lets go of the wheel, his hand flying to the back of your head- you half think he's trying to stop you until he starts pushing down gently, guiding you into taking his length.

"Goddamn- you're full of surprises, aren't y'-" It almost sounds like admiration the way it drips out rough.

You sink down until your lips are pressed against your fist, his cock just teasing the back of your throat, feel as his abdomen tightens next to you, a soft grunt from above. You swallow, suck in your cheeks as you start to bob your head, lips shielding teeth- still pressed against your hand as you stroke him.

The car jerks in rhythm with you, speeds up when you do, slows at the same pace. You know he doesn't realize he's doing it, his feet tweaking on the peddles like a beg. The silence is filled by obscene sounds, wet as your mouth works over him, tongue dancing over the head, lips sliding slick down his length. You let saliva pool in your mouth, seep slowly through your fingers. Hot and fast and dirty.

It feels good. Not honor-roll no-teasing engagement-by-graduation good. A different kind of good. A messy kind.

He knots his fingers into your hair. You catch a -fuck- between quiet mutters, like he's reciting a prayer he can't let anyone hear. His hips start to rut up against you as he pushes you lower, keeps his cock hitting the back of your throat as you choke through the feeling. You feel tears pricking just behind your eyes, threatening to spill if you don't let up. They well up as you bob your head faster, tighten you fist, let him fill your mouth over and over. You want him to ruin your mascara, to ruin you.

"Jesus, doll, you gotta quit-" he laughs, tugs at your hair, pulling your mouth off of him as he shakes his head with a smile, "-do'y know how embarrassing it'd be if I come before we even see a bed?"

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, your hand on your top. He glances back over at you with a sleek smile, eyes darker than before, like you've passed a test, or maybe just a look of surprise you can't quite understand. He pushes his cock back into his boxers, the bulge still obvious- too big to do up his fly. He leaves it undone.

He pulls off of the road into the parking lot, face set as he stops the car. The motel is clearly designed for Stanford visitors, the cartoon graduation cap on the sign a sharp juxtaposition to tonights plans. You wonder how many one night stands these rooms have seen- probably far less than Dean has.

You don't give him a chance to open the door for you, you slide out even before he does. It doesn't look like he was going to anyway, heading towards the motel with only a small glance back to make sure you're following, his key swinging over his finger. Only when he gets to the room does he resume his gentleman act, opening the door and letting you step in first. You slip past him, feel the heat of his body through yours as you do.

It suddenly feels clumsy again, like you're not completely sure why you're here. Of course you know why you're here, but it's also odd, almost two years of playing the perfect good girl, and it takes a five minute conversation with Dean for you to forget it all. To follow him to a motel. To give him a blowjob while he drives. To smile at him as he follows you into the room.

He senses your uncertainty and smiles back, steps forward to rest a hand on your waist, looking down at you with a soft look on his face, "Y'okay?"

You nod, "Yeah I-" you think for a moment, "Was that-" you gesture your head back to the door, the car- you don't know what you're trying to ask, "-I don't normally do that."

"Y'don't say." He chuckles lightly, teasing you just a little. He reaches into his pocket, emptying it out onto the small table- his wallet, a bag of pills, a pack of smokes, a couple bags of weed. He catches you looking, and steps back, takes off his jacket and throws it on top of the pile, hiding them away.

"I need to- uh- freshen up-" You speak quietly, glance towards the bathroom. He nods, turns away as you walk in.

You look at yourself in the mirror. Your mascara's smudged under your eyes, only slightly but you can still tell. You swipe it away with your index fingers, neatening yourself back out. Your clothes are crumpled, disheveled- you go to smooth them out before thinking better of yourself.

You know what this is- he knows what this is. There's no use pretending, no use you acting innocent and him acting like a gentleman. You pull your top off over your head, drop your skirt down your legs. You fold them both, place them on the bathroom counter, put your heels on top. You look back in the mirror, smiling at your matching pink underwear- right on theme.

You'd put them on expecting Chance to take them off. But this isn't a look meant for the Chance's of the world- the bra pushing your tits right up, the skimpy thong extenuating your ass- no this is a look meant for men like Dean to ruin.

You step back out. Dean's sat on the small chair, he doesn't look up, focused on the joint in his hands, rolling it carefully between his fingers. He lifts it up, swipes his tongue along the paper, pressing it closed. He finally glances up at you, double takes as he splutters out a choke.

This isn't the kind of reaction you can fake, the awe dancing across his face as he takes you in, the way he blinks hard to try and pull himself together. His jaw hangs open. It takes him a moment to readjust himself, he shifts awkwardly- his fly is still down, bulge still obvious.

"Jesus- You're something else-" He sucks in a breath, wide eyes still dancing over you. You smile, you kind of like seeing him on the backfoot. He lifts up the joint in his hand, gestures it towards you, "D'you still wanna?"

You nod, take a seat on the bed, opposite him. He smiles back at you, lifts it up between his lips and lights it. He takes a breath, gets the embers burning, then pulls it back out, lets out the smoke without reacting. He stands up, closing the gap between you.

"Have you smoked before?" He lifts an eyebrow, holding back on handing it to you.

"Yeah- not since-" you cut yourself off, "A couple times, yeah."

"You really are full of surprises." He chuckles, finally passes it to you, "This stuff is strong, you gotta take it slow-"

You pull it up to your mouth, take a deep breath in. It burns into you, hits the back of your throat in an instant. For a moment you try to hold back a cough, then you choke it out, the smoke spluttering in front of your face.

He chuckles again, releases the joint from between your fingers, "I told y' it's strong-"

You feel that prickling in your eyes again, the smoke and the choking making them sting. He smiles, takes another puff as he glances back down at your body, lingers on your tits for a moment longer than you both know he should.

He smiles, soft, "I feel like I'm wearing too many clothes-"

"So take them off." You smile back, playing your innocent part.

He hands you the joint back -"Slow breath, okay?"- and begins tugging at his own clothes. He pulls his top up over his head, you take another go at the joint as you watch him. It's smoother this time, the smoke tangles into your mouth like moss, the burn in your throat feels more rewarding. His chest is strong, shoulders broad. He's got scars across his skin, old and etched deep. You don't hide your look as you watch his muscles shift, his shoulders flexing as he goes to pull his pants down his legs.

The third breath feels good. Tugs your lungs, tingles in your mind. You can tell you're starting to feel it, that little high you've missed so much. You look at his legs, thick thighs, muscular calves- you land back on his boxers, the bulge just tempting you to reach out.

He steps back up to you, you hand the joint back and he smiles, clocking your slightly glossed state. He slumps down on the bed, his back against the headboard, legs stretched out in front of him as he gestures his head wordlessly for you to join him.

You shift, move towards him until you're able to straddle him, put your legs either side of him. You can feel his cock through the fabric of your underwear, pressed right against your desperate cunt. He doesn't look as needy as you feel, but his face still twitches only slightly as you settle on top of him.

His hand reaches up to your hip, rests there as he looks up at you, then he lifts the joint, presses it between your lips. His fingers linger there.

Then he moves, his thumb rests on your chin, finger hooked under it, "You're dangerous when you wanna be, aren't y'?"

You don't reply, just take another drag of the joint.

He nods, like that's your response, thinks for a moment, "You ever had sex before?"

You choke on the smoke, stuck between a laugh and confusion, "Jesus, do I really look that innocent?"

"Yeah. Yeah, you do." He laughs, pulls the joint from your hand, takes his own toke. "You ever had good sex?"

You shrug. Sex has never been something you've thought much about, a means to an end more than anything. It's fun, sure, but the kind of fun that lasts twenty minutes and never quite hits the spot the way you want it to. You're not sure if that's an answer he wants to hear.

"If y'dont know that means you haven't." He hands it back to you, runs his thumb over your bottom lip, "That's fuckin' criminal. A body like that and it's never been treated the way it deserves? No wonder you wanted to get away from that shit party-"

"Hey-" you warn, stern, "- I helped plan that party."

He's only half listening, "Bet no one back there has seen this side of you- you're hot when your makeup's all smudged and you've got a joint in your mouth."

You take another drag, longer, let the feeling really burn into your veins. He nods, entranced.

"Bet no one knows how good these tits look-" he drags his finger down your neck, across your collarbone, just teasing his fingertip across your breast, the edge of your bra. Your breath cuts, you keep your eyes on him as he draws patterns across your skin, "-Bet no one knows you let men fuck your mouth when they drive."

You shift, arousal flooding through you. You feel your pussy clench around nothing, he clearly feels it too, looks up at you with a surprised smile.

"That it, huh?" The grasp on your hip tightens, fingers curling into your skin, "You don't want a well-mannered man, do y'? You want a man who talks to you dirty? Talks to you like y'deserve? Like this body deserves?"

You nod. The joint's almost finished, you see him eyeing it. You hand it back to him. He takes one last drag, let's it burn down to the filter, then he leans over and stubs it out on the nightstand.

"Bet they think you're a fuckin' angel-" He hooks his finger back under your chin, pulls your face forward as he leans towards you, speaking soft, "-you wanna see heaven, pretty girl?"

"Yes-"

His lips crash against yours, hungry as he reaches his hands up to your cheeks, messy on your jaw. He bites your bottom lip, sucks it between his teeth for a moment, your mouths colliding.

Then he moves, one hand on your cheek one on your waist as he flips you under him, his body landing on top of you, pinning you against the mattress. You gasp and feel him smile against you as he drags his mouth lower, wet and messy as he starts to kiss your neck.

You arch into him, your body pressing against his, your tits against his skin, his cock still pressed to your underwear. You grind against him slightly, desperate for friction, your pussy still clenching around nothing. He groans, the vibrations thick against your skin as he trails down to your tits, let's his tongue play across your skin.

You feel his hand shift between your thighs, dragging up the inside until he's pressed against your underwear. You rut against him, the slight pressure on your clit as he gently circles it.

He hooks his fingers round the fabric, the tips only just jutting into your soaked folds. The second he touches you, you feel how wet you are, your whole body reacting instinctively to him. He looks back up at you with that surprised admiration again, like he wants to boast about how aroused he's got you.

But he doesn't, you know he's too focused on making you feel good, on proving he can make you feel good. He pushes his fingers into you- two- it fills you instantly, makes your mouth hang open in a needy moan. You reach out to his shoulder, wrap your hand around it to steady you. You feel his muscles flex under you as he starts to thrust his hand, fast and needy, just pushing into you with a kind of desperation.

He moves quick, drags his fingers out of you as they wrap around your thigh, still wet and sticky against your skin as he kisses down your stomach, your pelvis, your cunt. A light kiss just above your clit, like he's asking for permission but doesn't wait for an answer. He pushes his tongue into you- you moan, a guilty stuttered moan- your fingers lacing into his hair, tugging at him. He breaks apart for a moment, drags your panties down your legs quick, then he's back, mouth on you.

You can feel his cheeks curl into a grin as he starts lapping you up, pushing his tongue through your folds, wrapped around your clit. It's like he can't keep focused on just one thing, the moment you start rutting against him he moves again, changes what he's doing. He's dragging it out, making sure you don't peak too soon.

It feels different to anything you've felt before- you don't know if it's the weed or just him. It feels more fluid, like it's flowing through every part of your body- from your pussy into your tensed up thighs, your tightening stomach, your arching back. You feel it in your head, dizzy and delicious.

You feel as he breaks away, looks up at you, that smile still plastered, "Play with your tits-"

You hesitate for a moment, lift an eyebrow with clear confusion.

"-They're great fuckin' tits, but I'm a little distracted down here- let me see how good they look in your hands-" He presses his tongue against your clit, pushing his fingers into you again, his eyes still trained on you.

You swallow hard, trail your hands over your stomach slowly, up towards your breasts.

"Take y'bra off, honey-" he chuckles.

You shift your body, awkwardly contorting yourself to unclasp your bra, slide it off down your arms. His eyes go wide as he slowly starts to thrust his fingers, flicks his tongue over your clit.

You pull your hands back up grab your tits, push them together for him. He lets out a sharp breath, watching everything closely. You tease yourself, trail your fingers along your skin, across your nipples, let out a small shiver at your own touch. You pinch your nipple, twist it between your fingers, giving him a show.

He speeds up his thrusting, your movements only spurring him on as he focuses his tongue on your clit, flicking against it rapidly. You feel your orgasm rising quick, your hips rutting against him instinctively, desperate for his mouth.

He sucks on your clit and your whole body arches out, twisting in giddy pleasure. His pupil swallowed eyes swell with desire, a need to see you fall apart under him.

He does it again and your body snaps. You squeeze your eyes shut as you come, let out a loud and desperate moan. Your mind spins, filling with a syrupy pleasure- sweet and sickly and gorging. He keeps pushing into you, keeps his tongue lapping you up, until you feel like you've reached the point of obliteration- his other hand tightening around your thigh to keep you steady, keep you from moving away.

Only when your legs start twitching does he let up, slowly moves his mouth off of you, dragging his fingers out until you're achingly empty. You whimper quietly and he smiles, kisses your thigh.

"Y'fuckin' gorgeous-" he mumbles against you, that same secret he can't hold onto.

He shifts away, standing up so you can see his boxers again, the way his cock is strained against the fabric, the soaked patch of precum. He pulls them down his legs, lets his cock finally spring free. You look down at it, desperate to reach out, needy to touch it.

"Y'keep looking at me like that and I'm not gonna last long-" he laughs, holding your hip gently to get you to turn over for him.

You follow his movements, pulling the small amount of strength left in your legs until you're kneeling on the bed, your hands against the mattress. You feel as he climbs back in the bed behind you, his finger trailing down your back slow as he takes in the sight.

Then his cock's being pressed between your soaked and swollen folds, just carefully, enough that you can feel him. He pushes in slowly, clearly he knows how big he is, just inching his cock in as your pussy stretches around him. You wince slightly, suck in a ragged breath as you get used to his size. You can tell he's trying to be careful, but you have to ball your fingers into the sheets just to stop yourself from whimpering again.

"Y'okay?" He murmurs quietly, wrapping his hands around your hips.

"Y-yeah- you're just big is all." You laugh hesitantly, feeling his thumb rub against your skin.

"Relax baby- breathe real slow- y'taking me so good-" he slowly starts to move, pulls his cock out of you and then pushes it back in, slow enough that you can feel every inch of him fill you.

It only takes a few thrusts for you to break, for your arms to give and your body to melt as you start feeling the pleasure flowing through you. You collapse your body against the mattress, keep your ass up in the air as your face presses against the pillow. He speeds up, rocking his hips into you, hitting that sweet spot as your fingers twist into the sheets.

"Goddamn you're tight-" His voice is a groan, thick and hungry, "-it's like your pussy's fuckin' beggin' for me-"

He pistons into you with a relentlessness you could only beg for, brutal but steady, making sure he fills you on every hard thrust. His hands tighten around your hips, pulling you onto his cock in time with him, a soft grunt out of his throat on every movement.

"F-fuck sweetheart, ain't so innocent with your ass up and your pussy full of cock, are y'?"

You let out a whining moan, so full of him, your body on fire with the feeling. You're delirious, high and hot, desperate for him. Your body aches for more, too much and not enough all at once. He moves faster, frenzied, still filling you- but messier. You can tell he's just as needy as you, the way he tugs at your hips, his breath shallow and sharp.

"'S like y'greedy for it- that right, honey? You greedy? All for this cock?"

You whimper against the pillow, jaw hanging open, "Y-yeah-"

"Such a good girl, all pristine and pure- you wanna come? Want me to make you?"

"P-please- Dean-"

He slams into you harder, you feel as his body hits into your ass, your pussy full of him, his grip on your hips throbbing through your body.

"Come f'me-"

You feel it hit you, white hot and sudden- your orgasm ripping through your body. You bury your face into the pillow to hide your sounds- you can't tell if you're moaning or screaming, your whole body aflame with pleasure.

He doesn't relent, just keeps pounding into you, pushing you through your orgasm and beyond, his hand moving to your back to push you against the mattress. You whimper out, too overwhelmed to do anything else, your body limp with exhaustion.

For a second he stops, you think maybe he's about to come- but then he pulls out, carefully rolls you onto your back. Then his cocks back inside you- slower, dragging through you, still deep, still unrelenting, but it's careful and deliberate. He reaches out to your clit, circles it with a delicate pressure. You can't tell if it's your last orgasm still dying, or a new one starting to rise, but you feel it deep in your gut, a desperate need.

"S'too much-" All you're able to get out, your body still arching into him, moving in time with every thrust, pushing him deeper.

"Just one more sweetheart- that's all I want- just wanna see your face when you come-"

You nod, unable to say anything, your jaw ajar, your eyelids hooded.

"That feel good?"

You go to speak, but no words come out, just a desperate whine.

"All fucked out, huh?"

He leans down, his whole body pressed against yours, his cock still pushing into you slow and considered. He brushes his thumb against your cheek, wiping away whatever smudged makeup he can see as he leans down to kiss your forehead. He trails his kisses down, light against you, your cheek, down to your ear. He nips at your earlobe, just slightly, enough to get you to lean into him.

His voice is quiet, barely over a whisper, "All pretty and ruined-"

He kisses along your jaw, stumbling over his own actions just to taste you, just to touch you. His hand trails over your face lightly, cups your cheek, holds you carefully. He moves his thumb across your lower lip, kisses you gently.

"-all f'me."

You nod, let out a quiet mewl, all you're able to do. You want to come so bad, your body so full of need, but it feels too much, like you can't quite break.

"Y'doing so good- look so good- so fuckin' wrecked-"

You wrap your hands around his shoulders, feeling him flex under you, grounding you to his actions. They're strong and powerful, moving with every thrust.

He kisses you again, staring down at you with those blown eyes, "Show me what it looks like when an angel reaches heaven, sweetheart- I just gotta see-"

You fall apart, a slow and foggy orgasm, like you're wrapped in him, wrapped in pleasure and softness. It pushes through you, through your limbs and your mind. You squeeze your eyes shut, your mouth pressed against his jaw to stop you from being too loud, just whimpering against his skin as you collapse, every cell filled with gratification.

A moment later he pulls out, jerking against his own hand fast as his cum spills out of him, streaked across your stomach, hot and dripping. You can't do anything but sink into the mattress, your mind and body too exhausted to move. He stays above you, just breathing heavy, his eyes still locked onto your face, a smile poking at the corner of his mouth.

He finally pulls away, sits up. He takes another shaky breath, pulling himself back together, and then stands up.

He looks down at you, and lets himself smile completely. He pulls his fingers up, makes a square with them as he closes one eye, looking through it, "I should fuckin' frame you-"

You giggle lightly, your head finally coming back to you, your body still stuck to the sheets. You hear him walk off to the bathroom, the sound of a running tap. Then he walks back in, takes one last look at you before he runs the cool damp cloth over your stomach, wicking away the image he enjoyed so much. He throws the towel back into the bathroom as he sighs, pulling himself together.

He sits back on the bed, dragging your limp body up, half on top of him, your head on his chest, your arm wrapped around him. He keeps his arm around your shoulder, holding you steady, as he slowly starts to drag his finger over your skin. It tingles and dances, the feeling soft and warm.

It takes a while for you both to fall back into reality, your breathing evening out, your bodies sinking into one another. He shuffles down lower, keeps you on top of him as he holds one hand in front of his face, chuckling lightly.

"Fuck-" he laughs, drops his hand again, kissing your forehead, "-I'm so high. I really can't drive back tonight- you okay staying here?"

You nod, smiling against him. He drags his finger down your cheek, hooking it under your chin until you're looking at him.

"Y'okay, pretty girl?"

"Yeah- that was-" you blink hard, look away from him, relax your head on his chest properly, comfortably, "-Jesus, I'm so high."

He laughs, drags his hand down your body. It's warm, caring, just his fingers playing across your skin, drawing lines and patterns, feeling the way you shift under him.

For a while you're both just silent, falling into tentative sleep. Then he moves again, relaxing fully against the mattress, pulling you further on top of him.

You look up at him, a weak smile on your face, "Sam doesn't know you're here?"

He smiles back, it's a question he clearly want expecting, but he doesn't seem to mind, "He doesn't need to, that's not why I visit-"

"Then why do you?"

"We ain't that kind of family." His full answer. You wish you didn't know what he means, but of course you do. You know this kind of family far too well. He closes his eyes, his breathing slow, "Y'younger than Sammy, yeah?"

"I'm a sophomore, one year below."

He nods, "You know him well?"

"Not really, we've studied together a few times. He's good at that stuff- knows how to explain shit when I don't get it."

He smiles, like he's proud. A moment passes, then he speaks again, "You knew a lot about him, where he grew up, his brother's name-"

You think for a moment, "He was interesting. Got all excited about the old books in the library. The more interesting someone is, the more of them I remember."

Dean chuckles lightly, pulls you in just a little tighter, "You gonna remember me?

You smile, "Oh, I don't think I'm ever gonna forget you."

x♡x♡x

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