Killing Floor - Chapter 7
Led Zeppelin played over four hours that night. It wasn't on purpose; the crowd simply would not let them offstage. There was a lot of screaming, hands reaching, and a few especially devoted fans banging their heads against the stage in protest when they finished their second set. The boys on stage began throwing ideas around, the possibility of the group's longevity slowly sinking in. By the end of the night they had played everything from their first album, White Summer/Black Mountain, Killing Floor/the Lemon Song, a few Beatles songs, and parts of songs that all or most of them knew. The response to every bit they played was enough to coax out just a little bit more. When they were finally done, their music manager came up and squeezed them all in a bundle, lifting them off the ground.
You had been snapping photos all night, some with Dean in the background, some without, and had even been discreet enough to record a segment of Over Under Sideways Down with your phone, which you had kept charged all week just in case an opportunity like this arose. The occasional glance to your side caught a rarely carefree Dean, completely enamored by the deafening rock sounds and enchantment of a night he never wanted to end. You head was cloudy with sensory overload: the connection of hearing Plant's familiar, overpowering voice on a record or the radio and the sight of him in person, instead of in a photograph; the stale smell of the building that barely fit a thousand people, overpowered by sweaty fans and the occasional waft of alcohol; the faint taste of strawberry ice cream still in your mouth; the light touch of people brushing up against you as everyone gradually inched closer to the stage.
Dean made slow, sweet love to you that night. Each kiss was purposeful, intentional; every touch reverent; he looked directly into your eyes when he entered you. He whispered your name over and over, every thrust more meaningful than the last. You held his face in your hands, whispering his name back between passionate kisses, until both of you met your release in wordless bliss. He hooked his arms around you as you both laid on your sides in the moments that followed, but suddenly he fell too quiet, and you turned around to face him to see a single tear running down his cheek.
"Was I that bad?" you joked as you wiped it away.
"No, sweetheart," Dean shook his head and scoffed. He looked down for a moment, hating that he had created a chick flick moment. "I don't deserve… any of this." He gestured into the air with his hand, which you assumed to encompass the vacation from constantly looking over his shoulder, four signatures from four of his favorite people's first American tour, and finding you right under his nose.
You decided to speak for all the things to which he had gestured. "Does it make you happy?" you asked. After all, that was your goal in the first place. He nodded, to which you responded, "Then yes, you do deserve it." You wiggled closer to him in that tiny double bed and fell asleep in each other's arms.
A car horn from outside your window woke you up. You sat up straight and glanced at the analog clock on the wall: 9:54 am. You had both forgotten to ask the hotel for a wakeup call.
"Dean! Get up, we're going to be late!" you mumbled as you shook him, temporarily forgetting how dangerous he could be when he's scared awake. In the blink of an eye your arm is swatted away and he's reaching under the pillow for a gun that isn't there. Sensing someone to his side, he jolts in the opposite direction, tumbling onto the floor and grabbing for anything around him that can be used for defense. Starting to stir awake, he opts for the deodorant bar and chucks it in your direction, which you dodge by ducking onto the mattress. "You ass, it's only me! Wake up!"
"Hmm? Hmm?" he grunts, eyes blinking wildly.
It's 9:55. "Go get us checked out. I'll pack," you delegate as you start scooping clothes off the floor, deducing which shirt hasn't yet been worn as you go. Dean silently clothes himself, his mouth still shut with the grog of last night's sleep, the best sleep he's had in years. Part of his outfit is the red band tee, and you make a mental note to ask Cas a question before he zaps you back to the future. Just for kicks, you whispered into the air to the angel, mentioning that you didn't know if this disjointed prayer was going to work but that you guys were almost out the door.
By the time you were finally rolling out, it was 10:02 am. As expected, Cas was standing amid the bustle of mid-morning Boston commuters, patiently waiting for you. You're both still bed-headed and sleepy-eyed but you smile as you spot him right outside the door and gather around him.
"I heard your prayer, Y/N. It was hard to make out but you've greatly improved on last time. I had to sneak into the back room of a convenience store to land in the correct location," Cas explained. "I don't think the store clerk appreciated that. I trust you're ready to leave?"
"All set, Cas," you answered, proud of yourself that your broken prayer cut through decades of time static. "One question, though. If we take anything from this time, will it age?"
"Yes, anything from this year will age to its appropriate decay level when it's brought into the future. All your belongings from our timeline will remain unaffected, of course."
You glanced at Dean's shirt, accepting that it was the last time you'd see it new. "That's what I figured. Thanks Cas, I think we're ready."
"Beam us up, Scottie," Dean piped up, awake enough to speak at last. He intertwined his fingers with yours and Cas laid hands on both of your shoulders.
The next moment you were in the bunker kitchen, the sounds and smells of Boston suddenly silenced. You swayed around for a moment, the sudden trip back giving you a slight case of vertigo. Dean held you steady and you leaned against him, allowing the grip to ground you.
"The angel express can be a bitch, huh sweetheart?" Dean sympathized, rubbing your arm gently. He looked into your eyes lovingly and some of the dizziness subsided.
Someone clearing their throat caused both of you to turn around, only to see Sam in the kitchen doorway, hands in his pockets, a suspecting look on his face. The look both of you gave him, like you had just been caught with your hands in the cookie jar, caused him to crack a smile and nod his head knowingly. "I freaking called it," he muttered to himself amusedly.
"Bitch," Dean barked defensively.
"Jerk," Sam retorted.
"Wait," you blinked, "you called… us getting together over the course of the trip?" You waited for a reply but Sam just looked beyond you and tried to contain the stupid grin creeping across his face. "So i that's i why you were all of a sudden so supportive of spontaneous time travel!" You grab an orange peel off the kitchen counter and step into the throw, hitting him square in the shoulder as he flinches.
"Oh, I've known about you guys for awhile," he chuckled after the orange peel plopped onto the floor. "I noticed the way Dean would act around you and a few weeks ago you let it slip to me. Trust me, your secrets were safe with me, but when you mentioned going somewhere with just him, I couldn't say no. It's about damn time you two got together."
You sighed contentedly. What an adventure. "How was your case, Sam?" you decided to change the subject, knowing that if the conversation stayed on your trip for much longer, Dean would casually mention how thoroughly you had fucked each other silly, and you weren't ready to scar Sam with that quite yet, even though it was written all over your faces.
"A little more complicated than I expected, but nothing Cas and I couldn't handle."
"Anything on the radar for tomorrow?" Dean asked, re-adjusting his bag over his shoulder to leave the kitchen.
"Actually," Sam's eyes lit up, "if you guys are up for it, there's a ghoul job in southern Oklahoma we can make tonight."
"Hell yeah, let's do this!" Dean exclaimed as he made his way to his room to recuperate. Once he was sure Sam couldn't see he looked back at you and cocked his head towards his room, indicating he wanted you to follow. You took your time gathering your things and walked down the hallway to room 11.
"I'll be right back," you leaned in to tell Dean. "I need to unpack."
He glanced around his room for a second and suggested, "You could unpack here."
The warm softness of it grew in your heart. You looked down shyly, still not over how into you he was. "You really want me to move in?"
He looked confused. "Yeah, duh. Did you not want to? I mean you practically live here anyway. I can clear you out a drawer. I can -"
"Of course I want to, jackass," you scoffed, closing the distance between you and dropping your travel bag, kissing him hard.
After the kiss, Dean continued offering favors without missing a beat. "I can get you a loofah like mine. You can listen to my records whenever you want. I'll clean your sawed-off for you after every hunt. I'll share my pie with you."
"Now that, I highly doubt," you laugh as you rub the back of his neck, his short hairs muddled under your touch. "I'm just really excited that you want me in here with you."
"Excuse me, have you seen you? Waking up to your beautiful face every morning would be a freaking dream come true." You blushed and bit your lip. "Now then. We've got a couple of hours to kill before we hit the road. How about some tunes?" He sifted through his vinyl collection and found Led Zeppelin's fourth album. He dropped the needle and Black Dog began playing, Plant's voice starting out the song strong and the rest of the band joining in for a loud, recurring fanfare. Dean spun around and offered his hand, which you took and you two swayed to the rhythm, interrupted by the occasional twirl. Then he dipped you and you pulled his face down to yours for a passionate kiss. Bringing you back up without unlocking your lips, Dean wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in closer, already forgetting about the dance you were recently sharing. He slid his hands up you back, your chest crashing into his as he parted your lips with his tongue.
You took a moment to make sure the door was closed and locked before wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him in again. He backed you up until the back of your knees hit the bed, you fell ungracefully onto it, and he crawled on top of you, his knee resting between your legs and hands holding your shoulders down as he sucked at your jaw and behind your ear. You tugged at his t-shirt with your limited range of motion, which he pulled off swiftly and tossed beside the bed. While he was doing that, you started to unzip your jeans, but before you could shimmy out of them he was back on you, holding your wrists above your head with one strong hand and slipping under your shirt with the other.
You made a shocked noise when his cold fingers started grazing your stomach, then chest, then under your bra cup. "Dean," you gulped, his hand slowly warming under your shirt, "how thin are these walls?"
He shrugged, his bottom lip turning up. "Let's find out," he challenged. With his one free hand he pulled your shirt up and squeezed one of your breasts through the fabric of your bra. Prying the cup out of the way, he took one nipple in his mouth. You groaned with pleasure and he rolled his tongue over it until it was hard, then did the same to the other one. It was dizzying having your nippes teased like this without even being able to touch him back.
"Dean, let me touch you," you begged.
He released your wrists to take off your shirt and bra, after which you grabbed his shoulders and pulled him back down to chest level. He sucked the underside of your breast and you let out a moan before bucking into his leg, desperate for friction. The way you were gripping onto his shoulders was definitely going to leave marks, but right now the only thing you were concerned about was how good he felt on top of you. You started groping for the fly on his jeans, and he grinned against your skin, his teeth grazing your upper stomach.
"Sweetheart, what's the rush?" he taunted.
Stairway to Heaven had started playing, the soft first few notes filling the room. It halted you and you looked into his eyes, your own burning with desire. His were filled with the same want but he was better at hiding it under that ridiculous grin.
"You want my mouth around that dick of yours or not, you cocky son of a bitch?" you provoked him, his erection quite obvious through his pants and your prying fingers.
He didn't even hesitate letting you continue, and after you had taken off his pants and boxer briefs you slipped out of your own jeans and panties. He stood by the edge of the bed and you laid on your back, your head barely off the edge of the bed, and you took his cock in your hands before guiding it into your upside down mouth. Dean let out a long huff, the sudden hot around his length causing pre-cum to bead at the tip, which you sucked off with a hum. You could feel his gaze as he enjoyed the view of your entire body as you took him in balls deep.
The sounds coming from him were making you wet. Your knees were bent and your feet were planted on the mattress for leverage as your head dangled, but you spread your legs so he could see what he was doing to you. He groaned as you rolled your tongue over the length of his shaft and you felt hands on your inner thighs. You spread yourself further and felt his middle two fingers stroke from your wet entrance to your sensitive clit. A moan escaped your mouth, and it vibrated onto his cock.
"Oh god, Y/N." Dean's voice shook. "Baby, you need to stop. I'm not gonna last and I want to come inside you."
Letting him out of your mouth, you lost track of where he had gone until you suddenly felt the mattress compress and hands pulling you away from the edge of the bed and into the middle. Dean leaned down, hooked his arms around your thighs, looked up at you with a dark, hungry smirk, then disappeared between your legs. Your whole body shook as he licked at your folds, then began fucking you with his tongue. The hits were quick and hot, not letting up for a moment, especially with your whimpering encouraging him on. Your breathing was quickening, and as Four Sticks played in the background, he slipped two fingers into your pussy and licked around your clit until you were screaming his name. He flattened his tongue across your clit at last and your whole body bucked into his face, your orgasm rippling through you. You shouted something combining "fuck", "oh my god" and "holy shit" as wave after wave hit you and he maintained his grip around your thighs until your body stilled.
Coming up from between your legs, he sees a quivering mess with your hand touching your forehead to feel how your head was still pulsing. "Dean Winchester," you said between shallow breaths, "if you don't fuck me right now, I swear to God…"
He grinned at how he had made you come undone. "Yes, ma'am," he complied and readied himself at your entrance. You slid down to meet him eagerly, to which he pulled away and threw his head back laughing.
"Not funny, you ass!" you laughed back.
"Sorry, sweetheart," Dean apologized, lining himself up with you again and this time, slowly sliding in. You moaned contentedly and rotated your hips so you could feel him all around you as he stretched your walls. He let out a happy sigh as he filled you up completely. "Baby, you feel amazing."
"So do you," you reply. "I love feeling you inside of me. Every time we do this I never want it to end."
"Me neither, Y/N," he murmured adoringly before smacking a loud kiss right on your mouth. Then, he started moving. At first, with faces so close you occasionally exchanged kisses. When The Levee Breaks was in full swing, the bluesy rock hiding some of your quieter moans. After the first chorus, Dean sat up and threw your legs over his shoulders, the new angle rubbing against your g-spot and making you groan with every thrust. He could tell you were getting close again by the way your face was contorting and breath was getting erratic, changing his rhythm to pull his body up with each thrust so his pelvic bone would massage your clit. With a shaky sob your release rocketed through you, your pussy clenching around his pulsing cock, pushing him to the edge as well. With a short grunt he spilled into you and tried to ride you through yours but fell forward onto you unceremoniously. Instead of being crushing, his weight was comforting, and you held him there as his dick softened and your breathing slowed.
Dean had rolled off of you and was rubbing your fingers absentmindedly when three quick thumps at the door startled the two of you.
"You two owe me a pair of noise-cancelling headphones!" Sam yelled through the wooden door.
You guffawed, feeling the embarrassment rise into your neck. "Sorry, Sam!" you yelled back.
"I'm not sorry!" Dean announced loudly. "I won't apologize for knowing how to treat a lady!"
"Ugh. Guys, gross. Just remember the walls are thin in this place."
You laughed into the pillow so Sam wouldn't hear you, but also because you were hiding your face. Ashamed of enjoying sex? Never. Slightly embarrassed that Sam now knew exactly what you sounded like being fucked by his brother? Now that was still unfamiliar territory.
"Anyways, we gotta leave soon, so," Sam's voice got quieter as his sentence dragged on, "finish doing… whatever you were… ugh, nevermind. Just start packing. We leave in an hour."
Sharpening the machetes took ten minutes. Dean checked the Impala's oil level and came to the kitchen to pack the cooler with beer. Sam came up behind him and took a few out to fit a plastic container of fruit from the fridge, but you couldn't tell what kind because you couldn't even look in his direction right now. You read up on the case to know what to expect while munching on a microwaved burrito, still thirty minutes to spare.
"Hey sweetheart, you don't have to eat that, I'll get you some real food on the way," Dean said as he walked back into the kitchen to pick up the cooler, unaware of Sam's stowaway fruit.
"Real food?" you mumbled with your mouth full. "As in Taco Bueno? Cuz I freaking love that place."
"That's my girl!" he rejoiced, tossing your burrito into the trash can and picking the cooler back up from his knee, both of you making your way to the garage.
You thought the adjustment period between vacay and back to the grindstone would have been longer, especially taking your new relationship into consideration, but you so far it was practically seamless. You were already a great team, on and off the job, and now there was just another facet to your relationship. Would it be hard separating yourself emotionally from hunting situations knowing that the person that demon was trying to kill was involved with you romantically? Hell yes. But you already loved him to death before the trip to 1969, and both of you were able to keep your wits about you before, so with practice, you'd learn to do it over again. The job demanded it. Saving people, hunting things. And occasionally blowing off steam wherever you could fit it in.
"So," Dean continued as he set the cooler in the trunk, "we've still got a half hour to waste." He visually swept the space for any sign of Sam. "What's left to do?"
You smiled mischievously, glancing at the backseat. "I can think of a few things."
