Title: Late Night Call
Pairing: Dean X FemaleOC
Rating: M - Language and hinted situations
Chapter: Late Night Call - One Shot
Genre: Romance, Comfort, Sexy fun time with Dean
Summary: It's getting late. She usually called by now. What if something was wrong? Why wasn't she calling? / One shot about Dean with an OC lady love.
Glancing at the time, Dean tapped his fingers impatiently, glancing at the time.
It was getting late.
She usually called by now.
The elder Winchester couldn't help feeling those old, paranoid feelings creeping up. Something might have happened, she might be in trouble. Of course he assured himself that couldn't happen, she was safe back in the bunker. Safe and sound.
But was she? A bitter voice hissed in his subconscious, making the green eyed man tense, his mouth suddenly dry as he checked the time, yet again.
"That's it," he growled, opening his phone, tapping on the icon for his contacts, getting ready to call her when, as if on cue, her name came up, the phone now buzzing in his hand. Relief swept over him, but then a new fear gripped him; Was it really her or was it a demon calling?
Stop being stupid, Dean! He mentally yelled at himself, sliding to accept her call, bringing it to his ear hesitantly.
"Fiona?"
The laugh on the other end, something light and surprised, Dean felt the hand clutching around his heart slip away.
"Well who else would it be?"
He could almost see the confused expression she was making, the way her hazel eyes would study him, her lips parted with an unsaid question. Damn, it was moments like this, while on the road, he missed her something fierce.
Clearing his throat, Dean sighed, shaking his head, chuckling softly. "Nothing, I just…"
"Job has you on edge?"
Her tone was teasing, but if anyone understood, it would be Fiona. Though she was still new to this world of Hunt or be Hunted, she caught on to things pretty quick. At least with him, and Dean not having to say much. She just knew and understood.
"Yeah," he admitted softly, running a hand through his dark hair, sure he was going to find some silver in it one odd these days. "Kids being taken, and the Mothers in this weird twilight state. Kind of like the Stepford Wives." It was down right creepy, trying to talk to these women, and the Husbands were just as useless.
Sighing, Dean leaned back in his chair, scratching his temple. "One of them though, she's… normal somehow and gave us something of a clue." Dean was beginning to suspect witchcraft of some kind, or even maybe a pissed off Pegan God.
"Hey," her voice cut through his thoughts, the green eyed mans shoulders relaxing almost instantaneously. "Enough about the job, it's you and me right now." He could almost hear the pout, she was feeling neglected.
Laughing softly, he let out a long, slow sigh. "Alright, alright." Maybe he was going a bit soft since she had come into his life. "What do you want to talk about?"
It was silent on the other side of the line for a moment, he heard her shuffling around, the sound of the baby monitor in the background as Eliza made a sound in her sleep. She was in his room, he knew, because it was closer to the makeshift nursery for her baby. That, and she usually slept with him anyway.
"How much I miss you," she started slowly, her voice low and inviting. Dean wouldn't lie, he loved it when she tried initiating something as simple and dirty as phone sex.
A slow breath escaped him, the elder Winchester noting how his pants were already tight. "How much is that?" he asked, swallowing as he glanced at the door to the room. Sam said he would be back, but that had been a while ago.
Her laugh was low and husky, her breath already in short pants. "Depends," her voice was soft and sensual, he could almost see it in his mind's eye; One hand holding the phone to her ear, the other hand down between her legs under the sheets. "How much time do we have?"
How much time before Sam was back, she meant.
"Not sure," Dean grumbled, pressing his ear and phone to his shoulder, making quick work of his belt, button and zipper. "He left awhile ago." If they were lucky, it would still be awhile before Sam came back. Dean vaguely recalled it had something to do with research on this local town and similar stories. Maybe some clues would show up.
Shrugging his pants down, the older Winchester was about to pull down his boxers when she spoke again. "Uh-uh, leave those on, mister." He wouldn't admit it out loud, maybe not ever, but the amount of power she had over him was almost scary sometimes.
Grumbling, he held up his hands, glancing down at the bulge that was forming steadily. "I am at your mercy, Fiona," he sighed, shifting so he could kick his jeans off. "What does my Lady want to discuss?"
"Describe the room to me."
Simple enough request, though Dean honestly hated it. He wasn't descriptive, he was more of a do it and get it over with kind of guy. "Um," he started with a thoughtful hum, "it's small, not much bigger than my bedroom in the bunker." He heard her snort, sighing through his nose. "The theme for this place is 'rustic', so it looks sort of like a cabin; Faux wooden furniture everywhere, the headboards supposed to be some kind of tree branch… thing."
"You really suck at this, you know that?" The amusement in her voice was both annoying, but also refreshing. "No, I mean; is the bed big enough for both of us, or would we have to get real close." Her voice went low again, that slight rasp to it that made his little hairs stand up.
Glancing at 'his' bed, Dean grinned a little, palming himself through his boxers. "It's a bit small, even for me," he admits softly, "we would have to get real close, Fi." Memories flashed in front of his eyes, of nights they had shared a hotel bed like that, Sam just mere feet away as he played with her a little.
"Tell me more," she murmured, the green eyed Winchester swearing he could almost hear something on her end.
Chuckling lowly, the dark haired male looked beside him, eying the rather sturdy, dated looking desk. "Well, there's a desk in front of this window I wouldn't mind bending you over in front of," his voice was low, a growl hinting with each word, "curtains definitely open as they watch me wreck you."
A high gasp escaped her, Dean grunting as he gave himself a rough tug, his eyes closing. "Hell," he huffed, fishing himself out of his boxers, stroking his cock more freely, "I'd even pin you against the walls, holding you there as I-Fuck-fuck you right there." He was throbbing at this point, those lazy strokes not doing much.
"Really?" She was breathless, and now he was sure he was hearing things. He was sure there were going to be pictures later; her 'borrowed' shirt hiked up, revealing a bust he only dreamt of, her free hand between her legs, obscuring the view, but he knew she was three fingers deep.
Hissing as he squeezed himself a little too hard, Dean tilted his head back. Shit where was the lube?
"You know," her voice was that sort of welcoming, enticing sound now, he knew she was getting close, "we could just put the chain on the door, lock Sam out of the room, again."
Almost slipping as he reached for his bag, Dean laughed, low and husky, shaking his head a little. "You know he'll just accuse me of having a girl over, again," he said slowly, digging through the side pockets, grumbling to himself until he finally found the damn bottle. "Little does he know…"
Popping the cap, he couldn't help jumping at how loud it sounded in the empty room, giving the bottle a shake before squeezing some lube onto his fingers. "The only girl I want to have in here, unfortunately, is a few hundred miles away." Warming it in his hand for a moment, he groaned softly as he wrapped his hand back around his length, leaning back in the chair, pumping his cock with an unhurried speed.
"Tell me more, Dean."
He didn't need to be told twice.
Picking up his speed, his eyes narrowed, another, deeper chuckle escaping him. "After I was done fucking you on every surface in this room," he grunted, his hips jerking roughly, "I would lay you on the bed, and proceed to continue fucking you, not letting up on how I-I pound into you." A hiss escaped him as he dragged his finger up the underside of his head, precum already pooling there.
His breathing was labored, his head tilted back as he kept that phone smashed against his ear, listening to her moans and gasps as she pleased herself. Fuck he ached to be buried in her right then, feeling that amazing pussy squeeze and milk his cock with each thrust.
A low groan escaped him as his balls tightened, that tight, hot coil in his stomach as he felt his release coming up. "F-Fuck, Fi," he grunted, making out the faint slick sounds of her pleasure, Dean let out a low growl as he feverishly rutted against his hand, seeing her in his minds eye, lost her own throws of passion. "Fiona!" His hand was slamming against his base, trying to recreate the feeling of her riding him, a small whimper escaping him as he heard her cry out hoarsely.
Dean let go, rocking his hips with his orgasm, trying to ride it out, not caring where his sperm landed. Sam could yell at him later, he really did not give a shit.
Coming down from his euphoric high, panting as he slumped in the chair, the older Winchester chuckled breathlessly, looking up at the ceiling. "When I come home, you better be ready, Fi." It was a promise, too. Dean was already making mental plans to get Cas or Sam to babysit Eliza while he had some fun with his woman.
On the other end, he heard her giggle, the shifting of blankets as she fixed herself up again. "I wouldn't dream you wanted me any other way, Winchester." Then she snickered, her tone getting authoritative. "You better be ready for what I have planned."
Grinning like a moron, he laughed, his brow quirking at what she might have in mind. "Good, Hawthorne." But you know what, he'd be happy to find out when they finally got home.
Hearing the familiar rumble of the impala, Dean sighed as he sat up, grabbing some tissues from the box on the desk, cleaning up. "Sam's back," he lamented, sad their fun had to come to an end. As if on cue she was parked right in front of their room, the older male cursing under his breath as he tucked himself away.
"Guess you'll be taking a cold shower, then?" Her breathy, teasing edge made him grunt, his cock twitching. "Think of me, will you?"
Straightening up, Dean snorted, pulling his pants back on. "I always do, babe."
Hearing the familiar jingle keys, he sighed softly, but then smiled. "I look forward to your late night call again tomorrow, Fi."
"Same time as always, Winchester." She paused, he noticed, instead of hanging up a right way, like usual. "Come home safe, okay? I… I love you." Then he heard the click. Call ended.
Once again, he had the biggest, doofiest grin on his face as Sam opened the door, turning to toss the keys on the desk when he saw his brother.
"Is...uh… everything okay, Dean?"
"Everything is perfect, Sammy. Just perfect."
As if on cue, his phone went off, Dean smirking, knowing he just received a picture.
- FIN -
Authors Note ; Hey guys! Or those who do read my stories, at least... Here's an attempt at a one shot.
There is a story that goes with it, which I'll sit down and write eventually. I just need to flesh out Dean's OC love interest a little more. What I can tell you guys is that Fiona is a single Mom, her daughter is named Eliza. She's not a Hunter, not yet, anyway.