YAY, sex! Alright, I have as much of a hard time writing the smut as anyone else, and I would've loved a beta for this - in fact, if anyone wants to be my beta, raise your hand! Also, thank you guys for the reviews! So, here's a little romp with Dean Winchester, expert hunter/sex god.
Rosemary propped up her legs against the wall, lying flat on her back, in an attempt to get some circulation back in them.
"Sweetheart, that was hands down the kinkiest thing I've ever done" Dean muffled into her hair.
She giggled. "I know, right?"
"Sex in public? I mean, in front of Bo? And she can't even cover her eyes!"
"I think Bo Derek is the real pervert here."
"Think she enjoyed the show?"
"Well, I did."
"And that's all that matters."
Rose's feet played with the ancient poster on the wall of the panic room. She felt flushed, and, mostly, sweaty. Dean shifted so her head fell on his chest. He was in a playful mood, the cheeriest she'd seen him in months.
"So..." she asked while lighting a cigarette "the redneck-survivalist."
"Yeah. Dixon." He chuckled lightly.
"What do we think about him?"
"I think he's strange... but not dangerous. He's trying to keep his head above water. Manages fine so far from what I can tell."
"Looks like Sam and him really hit it off today, huh?"
"Yeah. Think my little sister might have a crush on him?"
Rose cracked a grin and tried to hit Dean on his stomach, but failed miserably.
"Don't talk about him like that. Asshole."
"Aw, come on, baby. They just seem to get on well, but there's nothing they have in common. Sam's a geek and that guy doesn't seem to have ever seen a school from the inside."
"Yeah."
"Honestly, when the shock wore off last night I was mostly pissed off because with the little girl here, we can't fuck in your room."
"Ha. I like the girl, and I really like this arrangement with Bo."
"Yeah, Bo makes it even better. But you like the girl cause you're such a sucker for kids."
"Oh, OH, I'm a sucker for kids?"
"It's the other way around in my case. Kids are suckers for me."
"That sounds wrong."
"Yeah. I get that." Dean played with her hair, letting his hand trail down on her sweaty face, to her throat.
"But that guy..." he went on, lightly tickling her throat, "you're not gonna fuck him, are ya?"
"Probably." Rose giggled at the shocked expression on Dean's face.
"Jesus. Rose." He abruptly pulled his hand from her, yanking up slightly.
"Jay-sos, Dean!" she mocked him, "but if we're gonna repopulate the world, I can hardly have only Winchester babies, now, can I? Plus, strong built! Good teeth! He'd make tough babies!"
"Oh so we're talking about kids now, are we?"
"Only cause you're one of very, very few men left. And I'm only gonna procreate with Sam and Bobby when there's seriously no other way left. That leaves you" she pulled him closer, "and the redneck. If he's not busy trying to impregnate darling Sammy."
"And you'd really need the good-teeth-genes" he said, leaning in, lightly kissing her neck right beneath her jawline, "cause you're English and your kids will be born with rotten teeth."
"That's … racism." Rosemary drew a sharp breath when Dean moved lower and sucked her left nipple into his mouth, between his damned pearly whites, at once. "Oh but with you..." she felt his hands, stills so rough her skin never got used to it, move along her sides, down to her thighs, "I'd have such pretty babies... green-eyed, pale-skinned, freckled..." her breath was starting to become irregular as Dean kept sucking on her nipple.
"Yeah, you would." he flashed a smile when she bucked against his hand, shoving two fingers inside her without so much as a warning. Rose gasped, reached out for him with both hands, but he leaned back slightly, playfully, not letting her grab him and kiss him as he knew she wanted to.
"Baby," he teased, moving his fingers in and out before going in, roughly, as deep as he could, holding still and then applying steady pressure to that spot he'd found so easily the first time she'd called him up to her bedroom, "You want something?"
"You not happy with this?" He moved his left hand up her body, enjoying the sight of her arching into his grip, lightly pinching her right nipple, and, as Rosemary again grabbed for his hand, easily wrestled both her wrists together into a firm hold, leaned forward and pinned them together over her head. "And here I thought I'd worn you out".
"I can go again" she panted, looking straight up into his eyes. They never left her's, still, every single time. It was one of Dean Winchester's qualities, among shooting, building things, some of which even worked, and looking out for his family, that he could make her feel like he penetrated both her pussy and her mind, with those piercing eyes looking right into her, and his dick...
When she managed to whisper "I was worried about you, old man." he pulled out his fingers and moved his hips toward her, not moving inside, but letting her know he had absolutely no problem going again. He played "just the tip" for a while, an annoying little game for Rosemary but one he particularly enjoyed, pulling out again and again, sliding the whole length along her folds, and smiling at her when he managed to find her clit with the tip of his dick, making her looks more begging, her breathing even unsteadier, and her hands fighting his a little harder.
"Babe I'd rather you let me blow you than" she gasped again. He was building pressure on her wet clit. "than... you playing with me like this..." She was about to try and tell him he was being unfair, that she didn't deserve punishment like this just for saying she'd repopulate the world (she actually really thought it was very nice of her to take that upon her) when he had mercy and pushed inside her, surprisingly gently as if he was still afraid he might hurt her. He let go of her hands, leaning down on her, and finally letting her kiss him – and she loved his kisses, the sweetness of pie, his soft, plush lips, and his tongue playing gently with hers, moving at the same pace as his hips. She writhed beneath him, while he whispered into her ear, sweet nothings, asking her to look at him, telling her how she tasted, how she felt, how it would feel when she clenched around him, how he adored her. It was sweet talk hundreds had heard from him, and she knew, knew because he never said "I love you", because he hit the spot so easily as if he'd rehearsed it all his life, but she had no trouble imagining all of these women had been turned on by this like her, had been reduced to a sweaty, flushed pile of raw nerve-endings and over-sensitized skin, marked by his calloused fingers and biting their lips trying not to beg for more, not to beg him to be rougher, harder, faster.
That would only make him pull back, kiss her, not even that, just brush his lips against her's, and let her beg some more, the smug bastard. She'd learned that early.
But now he grabbed her by the hips and turned her over, on her side, entering from behind her and finding her clit immediately, nubbing and rubbing it while – finally! - pounding her hard until she came, biting into his neck so she wouldn't scream. He kept going for a few seconds before pulling out and flipping her back again, she blindly reached for his dick, him still looking into her eyes, and tugged only twice until he came in long, hot spills onto her stomach.
