Dean led him to his car. It was a Chevy, but Blake couldn't quite pick what make. He was impressed nonetheless. And Dean was obviously proud of this incredible piece of...no other word for it... art.
"Like her? '67 impala, used to be my fathers, he's had her for as long as I can remember, and, needless to say... she's my baby" Dean said fondly. He unlocked the car and the two of them got in. Dean started up the engine and the car made a magnificent rumbling noise, one that featured in dreams, one that lullabies should be made of. It was simply beautiful. They drove for what only felt like mere minutes, but in reality, it was getting close to an hour. The car eventually rolled to a stop outside some cheap and dirty hotel room.
"Sorry, it's not exactly 5 star living, but it's all I've got. In case you hadn't guessed, I'm not from around here." Dean looked genuinely apologetic. Blake just smiled.
"Hey, it could be a whole lot worse. Trust me, this is fine." Relief washed over Dean's near perfect features as he got out of the car. Blake followed suit, while Dean searched his pockets for the hotel key. He quickly found it and opened the door to hotel room number 68. Dean saw Blake looking at the room number.
"I owe you one" he smirked. Blake raised an eyebrow, obviously confused.
"68, I owe you one? Get it?" Blake laughed at the immaturity, but also at the look on his companions face, it was the mischievous look that you only ever saw on teenage boys' faces when they were somewhere they weren't supposed to be. It was adorable.
"Yeah." Blake looked around the room. There wasn't much to it, just a couple of old, well used bags piled at the end of the only queen sized bed in the room. There were a couple of books stacked on the small table in the corner of the room, and a knife on the bedside table. Not a kitchen knife, but a massive one, used for slicing animal flesh. Or human. Blake looked at Dean quickly, who was watching him intently.
"Self defence" he said, with a shrug. Blake decided to let it go. There was no point pressing the issue, if Dean was going to murder him, he would've done it a while ago. There was just something about Dean that made him trustworthy. Blake just couldn't quite put his finger on it. Whatever it was, it was an incredible turn-on.
"So, do you want a drink?" Blake shook his head and pushed Dean down on the bed, straddling his waist. He bent down to kiss him, wanting to experience more of the amazing make-out session that had started in that pub. That felt like a lifetime ago, now, here in this hotel room god knows where, it was an entirely different ball game. Before, Dean was in charge, now, he was allowing himself to be dominated by Blake, more specifically, Blake's tongue. It was strange. The small part of Blake's brain that was functioning properly right now thought that Dean didn't really seem like the submissive type. This made it all the more hot, to be in charge of such a strong person, probably with an equally strong personality.
Hands were running up and down his back, grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulling it up, their owner breaking the kiss momentarily allowing the shirt to be pulled off Blake's body. Dean grinned at the sight of Blake's bare chest, and then went back to making out with him. Blake thought it wasn't fair that he was the only one without a shirt, so he pulled away from the man on the bed, hands just resting at the waistband of the jeans Dean was wearing. Dean stared up at Blake hungrily, reaching a hand up to Blake's neck before it was caught. Dean smirked again; the smirk that he knew drove Blake crazy. Blake let go of Dean's wrist and pulled Deans shirt over his head. Revealing a toned chest, Chris-crossed with countess scars. All movement stopped as he surveyed the imperfections. Dean's smirk disappeared. Blake continued to stare wordlessly, focusing on one of the more noticeable scars on Deans left shoulder.
"Um, I-"Dean looked lost for words.
"Shh..." Blake said, tracing the scar on Dean's shoulder with his fingertip, ever so lightly following the tracks of this man's past. He knew there was something more to Dean, something special. Blake wondered where these were from, and why there was so many, and why they were so severe, but this wasn't the time for questions like that. Blake looked up at Dean's face again. He looked nervous. Blake smiled and kissed Dean softly.
"You're going to have to explain this, every single scar, only, later on. Right now, you're far too irresistible to deny myself."
"You know, I've never been with a man." The smirk on Dean's face now was more alluding than ever, but there was a hint of nerves behind the grin, which vanished once Lips started attacking his neck. He let out a small moan as Blake dragged his teeth over his pulse.
"Well That's going to have to change, isn't it?" Blake said, crashing his lips down once more onto Dean's.