AN: Do I really need an excuse to write Deanlena? I didn't think so. But this one is dedicated to a very good friend of mine, Belle you are so wonderful, I'm so glad I met you, thank you so much for encouraging all my terrible (wonderful) Deanlena ideas. Also I kinda felt bad that I kept writing Deanlena things that were kinda sad. So here's some fluff.
You Move So Fine (Let Me Lay it on the Line)
"You should wear dresses more often."
Dean dragged his hands up the soft skin of Elena's bare thighs on either side of him. The feeling of his rough, calloused hands made Elena squirm from her perch on his lap. He was seated at the end of the bed, stripped down to his t-shirt and jeans. Dean traced the column of her throat with the very tip of his tongue, smiled against her skin when she moaned. Her hair brushed against his neck and he shivered.
"That would be very impractical," she murmured, eyebrows cocked. She raked her fingernails over his scalp to the back of his neck, fisting her fingers in his hair to pull his face up to hers. He grinned slowly.
"Not entirely," he disagreed, hands toying with the hem of her dress. She shifted her hips in a slow dance and he groaned. She giggled.
"Convince me," she said, smiling widely, dipping down to press her lips to his. He drew patterns into the skin of her thighs, fingers barely past the hem of her skirt. She nipped on his lip, a laugh rumbled through his chest. Early morning sunlight streamed in through the cracks in the shades. The motel room was no different than any other one they'd been in before, but the location didn't matter, just the company.
They'd gotten distracted, delaying their leaving—again.
"I am pretty convincing," Dean said against her mouth.
"Prove it," Elena breathed, tracing his lower lip with the very tip of her tongue.
"Hmm, I love the way your legs look in dresses," he told her, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the curve of her jaw. She smirked.
"So do allllll those other guys," she informed him. "—And girls," she added as an afterthought. He groaned.
"You're killin' me, Gilbert," he whined. She shrugged, twisted her fingers into his hair to pull him closer. She kissed the tip of his nose teasingly.
"And you aren't convincing me, Winchester," she countered. He nipped at the underside of her jaw, drawing a ragged giggle from her.
"Makes you look badass, when you wear 'em with boots," he offered, dragging his fingers down her leg to tug on the laces of her boots. She shifted her hips against him and he slid his hands back up to fiddle with the hem of her dress again.
"True," she conceded. "But they're so impractical for when we're on a hunt," she pointed out.
"Okay, I'll give you that," he sighed. "But—" he dragged his hands all the way up her thighs, hands gliding over her dress to grip the back of her waist. Without warning, he picked her up, twisted around and laid her down on the bed. He settled on top of her, cradled between her thighs. "I think I've got somethin' that'll convince you for good," he continued.
His hands drew circles on her bared thighs, her dress hiked up to the curve of her ass from the sudden change of position. She raised a questioning eyebrow.
"Well then by all means, convince me," she told him, mouth curved up at the corners, half-convinced she'd already won. He grinned a slow, lazy grin.
First he kissed her full on the mouth, long drawn out and slow, traced the roof of her mouth with his tongue, nipped at her lower lip. He kissed her until she was breathless. With patience, he moved from her mouth to her jaw, biting and sucking, tracing the fine bone of her jawline with his tongue and mouth until she was weak with the feeling.
Satisfied, he turned his attention to her neck, light and soft, with almost no teeth, but plenty of suction. Her pulse hammered against his mouth and he grinned. She sighed, her fingers still twined in his hair, she gave it a little twist of disapproval. He let out a huff of laughter.
"Play nice, baby," he chided, biting her collarbone gently.
"You first," she retorted. He smirked, dipped his tongue into hollow of her throat, and traced a line down to the curve of her breast.
He placed open-mouth kisses all along the available skin, never pushing aside fabric or going very fast. He was taking his time. Elena twisted her fingers in his hair again.
"You're such a tease," she bit out. He laughed and pressed closed-mouth kisses down her clothed ribcage and stomach. He slid his arms under thighs, fingers pressed into her ass, urging her legs over his shoulders. Her boot-clad feet pressed into the small of his back. From between her thighs he grinned up at her, kissed the inside of her left thigh. She groaned.
"Fuck you," she retorted. He laughed. He toyed with the ribbons on the side of her panties.
"These are cute," he commented, unraveling one side. He nipped at the inside of her right thigh. "They kinda fit with the whole point I'm trying to make about you wearing dresses more often," he told her. She raised an eyebrow at him.
"And what would that point be?" she questioned. Her fingers rested at the back of his neck, fingernails absentmindedly scraping against his skin. He undid the other ribbon and grinned up at her.
"Easy access."
AN: awww, I know, you're pissed because I cut it off before the good stuff? Well, tough. I'll write that when I'm ready, lol. (I'm so not ready tbh) reviews are lovely.
xoxo
-Pixie