The New Supernatural

“o-oh, yea—mmff, fuck—” dean gasped out, a loopey grin spreading across his face.

have you ever had sex with a man?

“oh my fuckin’ go-ohd—” his fingers tightened around the edge of the marble countertop. your countertop.

what’s the youngest you’d go?

“mmh-mmm-ah shit!—” the back of dean’s head hit the marble, though he paid no mind to it. the pleasure was so intense that the pain didn’t even register.

what about a guy in his twenties? would ya shag him?

you still remember the grin on his face when he asked that.

“ghhh-sonovabitch..” his voice was higher pitched. slurred. broken, even. shirt bunched up to his chest. he shivered violently when your teeth just barely grazed his pulse point.

“god—fuck—please—” such a pleading tone. he was begging.

“please what?” you whisper, eyes flitting up to his face, fingers digging into the skin of his thighs like a brand, rough yet grounding. there. definitely not meaningless. “you wanted this. now take it.”

dean whimpered before a sob tore out from his throat, head thrashing around against the marmoreal stone, hips stuttering, cock twitching—untouched, leaking, aching. neglected. just barely rubbing up against your abdomen.

your pace fastened, not by a lot, but enough for dean to arch his back and struggle against your hold. his thighs quaked, legs hanging off of the counter, toes curled.

you were big. thicker than he anticipated. first time with a guy and he was already getting stretched to fucking oblivion. he felt full. it hurt, of course it did, but what was dean if not a masochist.

with a broken, loud moan, he willed his shaking body to meet your relentless, sharp thrusts. his ears were ringing and he could barely even hear himself, the only thing clearly audible was the sound of skin slapping against skin.

“you—you told me i could ask you- a-ah—anything..” he panted out, glossy eyes barely open as they locked onto yours.

“…and look where it got you.”

your response was simple, almost mocking. with a deliberate roll of your hips, you had dean’s eyes rolling into the back of his head, mouth falling open in a soundless gasp as he bared his neck.

the brutal drag of your cock inside him made his brain turn to mush. he clenched around you, involuntarily of course, just because his imagition was conjuring filthier images. he couldn’t help it. the thought of you fucking him whenever you wanted wherever you wanted? it practically made him salivate.

“dean.”

he keened. at the sound of his name on your lips, he fucking keened. desperately so, like he was just happy you were acknowledging him. and maybe he was.

“dean,” you repeated, moving a hand to pat his face before gripping his jaw. “eyes on me.”

oh you didn’t have to tell him twice. you had that quiet authority, one that made others do exactly what you asked with no need to reiterate. dean loved it. he craved it.

his hazy eyes locked onto your own.

“you with me, space cadet?”

always, he wanted to say. but he bit it back with a choked groan, in response only nodding his head, though the action was barely noticeable.

“say yes.”