#restrainted

“Well...I can say this has never happened to me before,” said Dean, laughing to himself.

“I fucking hope not,” you said, straining every muscle in your body. “Can you move at all?”

“Um...” said Dean, sighing and closing his eyes. “Not a thing, baby. You?”

“I think my legs,” you said, sliding up but getting stuck. “I guess only my thighs. Perfect.”

“Wait, you’re stuck on top of me?” asked Dean, staring up at you with a smirk. “Not the worst curse in the world after all.”

“Dean, we were in the middle of sex! You had to knock that stupid hex bag I told you to get rid of off the night stand and now...fuck, Dean. As much as I love being on your cock...this is a little much,” you said.

“Y/N, you’re fucking straddling me, squeezing me. I am not going down anytime soon,” he said, your thighs shifting forward again, his head still buried in you. “That is not helping. You might as well just finish what you started.”

“I was this close to an orgasm,” you said, moving your legs, Dean getting a front row seat as he watched you start to ride his length again. “I thought the hex made people have sex?”

“Seems to be doing the trick,” teased Dean. You pursed your lips, Dean chuckling when you couldn’t give him a light smack on the chest for his comment. “Oh, this is fun.”

“You promised me a good fucking. Got to do everything myself, don’t I,” you said, settling into a harsh rhythm, your orgasm swimming back to the surface quietly, exploding around you while you worked Dean over. “Shit, Dean.”

“Y/N,” Dean grunted, spilling himself inside you. You slowed and felt your legs shaking, Dean turning soft inside you.

“Let’s try this again,” you said, moving your legs as far as you could, Dean having more give now, pulling free of you body, your chest falling forward and smashing into Dean’s. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he said with a laugh, one of your own coming out with it. “Think it’ll wear off before Sam gets back?”

“Guys! I’m home with dinner!” shouted Sam, somewhere far off in the bunker not a minute later.