With that scorching touch, he was thrown back in time to the first time he had The Dream.
The sun was warm on his shoulders and the beer cold in his hand. He was in one of his "safe" places sitting on a dock with his line in the water. He wasn't here for the fish. He was here for the peace and solitude. He leaned back in his faded blue camp chair and took another swig of beer. He laid his head back and looked up at the sky. The sun was warm on his face. His brilliant green eyes drifted shut and his body went lax. After a few moments he heard a splash. With a smile he sat up and grabed his pole. He's caught a fish. He reels it in and a part of his mind registers that it is a Rainbow Trout. As the sun glinted off the rainbow scales he gently pulled the hook out of its mouth and placed it back in the crystal blue water. Suddenly, he stiffened. The solitude was broken. He was no longer alone. He sat back down in his chair and took another swig of his now warm beer showing no sign that he knew the intruder was there, invading his personal space. Gently, a hand slid down his chest, under the collar of his shirt. He grabbed the attached wrist to impede the downward progress. His eyes tracked up the perfectly formed arm. With a crystalline giggle she slid into his field of vision. Hair dark as night was the first thing that registered, followed very quickly by the tiny, bare waist it was curled around. His eyes trailed up a flat, firm stomach to the edge of a white, lacy shirt that barely covered the underside of two firm, full breasts. His eyes lingered there for a few moments before, with a shuddery breath, they continued their upward trajectory. A couple inches of nearly sheer lace later he reached the top of the very full, creamy breasts. A shadow of dusky skin just barely visible along the edge that made him lick his lips. He followed the curve higher still. Her neck was delicate and swanlike, just made to be nibbled. Her lips were plump and tempting. Her nose was straight and pert. And her eyes! He had never seen eyes like hers before. They were depthless, violet. A shade he had never seen before, deep and velvety. She was gorgeous. He was so stunned by her beauty his grip loosened and as soon as it did her downward exploration continued.
Dean's eyes drifted shut as she gently stoked his chest. With a whisper of sound he felt her slide her hand back out of his shirt. Just as he was about to protest, her hands bunched in his shirt and with a quick, sure move, his shirt was ripped down the middle and his muscular chest exposed. With a murmur of appreciation, her hands returned to his chest and traced their way down to the trail of coarse hair that disappeared into the waistband of his jeans.
His body was amazing. More delicious than any she had ever seen, and she had seen more than her fair share. His golden skin glowed in the sunlight, radiating warmth. She skimmed her nails across his flat, muscular abdomen, tracing her way back up so she could flick her nails across his nipples until they hardened in appreciation.
He practically jumped out of his chair and a whimper slipped from his lips at the intimate contact. His eyes flicked open and he watched under heavy lids as she settled herself astride his lap and rubbed against the bulge she found there with a contented purr. Heart already beating double time, his breathing accelerated with the delicious pressure. He released his death grip on his beer and gently slid his hand up her back with just enough pressure that she leaned into him. His other hand sliding up her calf until he could caress the back of her knee.
She shuddered at the sensual touch and knew she was no longer in charge of this seduction. She knew it was dangerous but she could not bring herself to care, his callused hands felt too good on her sensitized skin. His hand slid up her leg until it rested on her firm, silky thigh. His eyes staring intensely into hers he lowered his mouth until it gently touched hers. With a sigh of pleasure, her eyelids fluttered shut and she turned herself over to the lust spiking through her blood, trusting that this man knew what she wanted. What she needed. Dean increased the pressure of his kiss. It went from gentle and tender to aggressive and fierce. She whimpered as her lips parted and he thrust inside. Her hands clenched into fists against his chest. His left hand slid up her back and tangled in her raven hair. He tilted her head back to deepen the kiss even more. His tongue explored every corner, every crevice. As she tangled her tongue with his, liquid heat burned low in her stomach and she felt moisture pool where they touched intimately. Dean felt the rush of heat and ground himself up into it. She moaned in the back of her throat and increased the pressure. His right hand clenched around her thigh and used it to pull her even closer. She whimpered as the friction increased and Dean's cock swelled even more. He released his grip on her thigh and slid his fingers under the band of her impossibly tiny shorts and stroked the delicate flesh he found there. With a shudder she spread her legs even wider.
"Touch me Dean, please" she panted.
A part of his mind registered that he had never told her his name but that thought disappeared as he slid his fingers lower still and lightly grazed the sensitive bundle of nerves he found there. With a shriek, she jumped as sparks rocketed through her body. She writhed against his hand, pleading with her body.
Wanting to make this last, and knowing it wouldn't if he remained there for a second longer, he slid his fingers lower still until he reached her white, hot core.
"Dean," she begged, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. She was so hot and wet and he was so hard, he didn't think he could last much longer. With one hand still caressing between her legs and the other tangled in her hair, he leaned forward and whispered, "touch me. I want to feel your hands on my cock." It took a moment for the request to sink into her lust soaked brain but when it did her fists unclenched. Her hands were trembling so badly it took her three tries to undo the button of his jeans. When she finally fumbled it open, he sprang free without much coaxing. He was beautiful. She slid her hand down his shaft, reveling in the effect she had on him. The head glistened with moisture and was velvety to the touch. She ran her thumb over the tip and earned a throaty growl for her efforts. He thrust himself further into her hand and at the same time he thrust two fingers up inside her heat causing her to clench around him with a moan. She looked up into his eyes and tightened her grip on his member. She oh so slowly slid her hand down to the base and back up and ground herself into his hand in rhythm to her strokes. He pressed his thumb into her clit and moved it in slow circles all the while increasing the tempo of his fingers. She writhed and wrapped her other hand around his substantial girth and quickened her strokes. Just as he was about to come he was jerked from the dream.
He would open his eyes and Sam would be there, concern etched across his features. "Dean? Dean, are you ok? You were having a nightmare." He had this dream multiple times a week. Dozens of variations but it always ended the same way, with Sam waking him up and Dean taking an ice cold shower.