#dean scruff

“Morning, sweetheart,” Dean mumbled, letting his hands fall to my hips and his face bury itself in the crook of your neck. His scruffy chin and cheekbone tickled my sensitive skin, making me resist the urge to scratch the area. I spit the toothpaste from my mouth, wiping the corners with my thumbs.

“Mornin’,” I said and wiggled my hips a bit for him to move, so I can bend down and rinse my mouth. Looking at our reflection in the mirror through his lashes, I felt him smile and leave a small trail of kisses there. “Dean,” I half whined. I felt his deep chuckle next to my ear and the pattern of his breathing alter along with the action. He stepped to the right, letting me finish my morning routine, yet keeping his arm loosely draped around my lower back.

When I was done I let him press up against me, leaning backwards to him, as he made himself at home. His hands came to my waist, rubbing up and down slowly. I let my right hand dip in his hair and give him better access to my neck as he kissed a path up to the back of my ear and to my jaw. His week-long scruff scratched against my skin making me giggle.

“What?” he asked pulling away to look at me.

“Your scruff,” I giggled slightly

“What about it?” he asked slightly confused, yet amused at my morning drowsiness. His voice had that scratchy morning tint to it, making him sound so damn sexy and amazing. Giving me all sorts of ideas. I pushed them aside for now.

“It tickles,” I replied with, turning around in his hands. I placed my left hand on his chest and my right hand on his cheek, letting him lean to it.

“Does it now.” He smiled softly at me. “Wanna shave it?”

“What do you- wait- like, me? Me shaving you? Are you… sure?” I asked shocked, stepping back a bit.

“Well, yeah.” He shrugged. “You’re a hunter. Don’t tell me a razor scares you,” he teased, winking at me.

“It doesn’t I just- You totally sure? I thought you loved the scruff.”

“Yeah well, I love you more.” Cue the blush “Plus, I can grow it back if you want to. Not that big of a deal." He smiled. “Now come on. Get to work." He patted my butt, drawing a squeal out of me.

“Behave, Winchester. I’m the one with the razor in my hands,” I replied with, reaching for his shaving supplies. The can of shaving cream stood in the mirror cabinet next to Dean’s razor. I grabbed them, pulling Dean closer, hopping on the counter.

“Are you sure about this? What if I cut you?” I asked concerned, all playfulness gone.

“I think I can handle a small cut, sweetheart.” He looked at me pointedly making me sigh.

“Fine. But it was your idea,” I said and turned the tap on, letting the warm water flow.

I generously put shaving cream on my fingers, gently applying it on Dean’s cheeks and upper neck. Playfully he grabbed some from his face and wiped it on my nose. I scrunched it up, giggling, making him smile. I glared at him, taking the rest of the shaving cream in my hands and slapping him, not too hard but not lightly either. His eyes closed and he made a face at the action.

“I said behave,” I told him teasingly. He opened one eye, the second eye, and nodded. Rinsing my hands, I guided Dean to stand between my legs, reaching for a towel. I dipped it in the water, wiping off the excess cloud like substance.

The height of the counter make me almost reach Dean. I grabbed the razor, dipping it in the water like I had seen my dad do when I was young. I placed my left hand on the back of Dean’s neck. With a deep breath and a reassuring glance from him, I got to work.

I let the blade glide gently over Dean’s skin, taking any sort of hair that there was. I rinsed the blade, going back and repeated the action.

There was something strangely intimate in shaving him. I had his pulse on my very fingertips and his warm comforting presence impossibly close to me. The almost inaudible sound the contact between skin and razor filled the air along with our breaths as I concentrated on the task at hand. I didn’t even notice Dean’s hands holding my waist loosely or his intense pine-colored eyes staring into my own. I didn’t notice it when he leaned slightly towards me or when he looked at me with that intense, affectionate look. I even forgot the fact that I had shaving cream on my nose.

With nothing but a small layer of foam over his lips, I let my hand guide the razor, making the hairs disappear. I rinsed the blade one last time, grabbing the towel and dipping it in the warm water. Slowly I ridded his newly shaved and cleaned cheeks of any excess shaving cream. When I finished, I dropped the towel and stared at him. He stared back with a tiny ghost of a smile on his lips.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he said, his voice husky and rich like velvet. I shook my head, resting my arms on his shoulder. He grabbed the towel and wiped the shaving foam on my nose, dropping the towel back on the counter before leaning his forehead on mine.

I pushed upwards a little, capturing his lips with mine. We stayed like that for a while, heavy limbs against warm bodies, hot breaths mixing together and swallowed words that turned to this simple action. Kissing.

“Did I mention I love you today?” I asked, breathless, as I pulled away. He hummed. “Well guess what,” my voice dropped to a whisper as I leaned my head towards his ear. “I love you.”