Supernatural Imagines & Preferences

Dean Imagine

For Hannah @HannahWolfrey

Read while playing Hot Blooded by Foreigner

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Every Kiss Starts with a Look~

 Dean smiled at you from across the library. Your eyebrows shot up at him. Something was off with Dean recently; whenever you two were alone he’d become a) nervous and/or  b) extremely flirty. It was nothing you had ever seen before. Dean never became nervous around any woman, and was only flirty with the girls he took to bed. It spooked you out quite a bit.

You glanced up from your book to see him sitting across from you at a table, holding his own book. He didn’t look at you and sat quietly. You sighed and face palmed yourself. Screw this weird thoughts drifting at you. Minutes ticked by and not a word was said from either of you, but, every few minutes, you could feel his stare on you.

“Dean,” You finally whine, shutting your book hard. You two look at each other stupidly. “Stop staring at me.” You demanded with a little roll of your eyes. You stand and walk past him into the bookshelves. There’s a familiar step behind you and turn in time to see Dean in front of you, so close you can feel his breath.

“Dean!” You exclaim as he barrels at you, grabbing your waist effortlessly and pushing you against a shelf, lips finding yours. His kiss wasn’t anything but spilled emotions- everything he’s been building up the past couple days around you, all thrown out in this one kiss. You stare wide-eyed at the oldest Winchester as he finally pulls away, lips red and swollen already. He’s breathing heavy and you’re surprised to find that you are too. “What was that?” You question.

The green-eyed man shrugs and scratches the back of his neck unsure. “Just…I don’t know. You’re really hot, you know that?” He says sheepishly, peeking out from beneath his lashes. You raise your eyebrows again, eyes running over the small blush adorning his cheeks. “Well, that was hot.” You reply, turning your back to him and shoving your book in a random spot. When you’re facing him again he looks a little lost.

You smirk. “So, Dean Winchester,” Your voice is like a siren’s, calling him to you as he takes an unsteady step forward. “Are you going to fuck me in a library or…?”

He swallows hard and smiles at you. Dean’s rough hands find your hips, rubbing them through your shirt, lips back on yours and this time you were prepared, fiercely kissing him back. Your hands find their way to his hair, pulling lightly, he lets out a strangled groan. In this next minute or two, both of your shirts are in a puddle on the floor. His hands were everywhere, you couldn’t concentrate. They rubbed up your skin and tickled their way down, his tongue moving in a pattern at your neck, as you fought to keep your moans low.

His mouth went lower, between your breasts, to your belly button, licking the skin just above your jeans. His fingers were fast to unbutton and slide the material down your legs and your hands traced down his own chiseled chest, to his pants. He groaned, interrupting you and pulling his own pants down.

Before anything else happened, he pulled away, breaking off all contact, allowing both of you air. “Are you sure you want this, Hannah?” He asks staring at you. You nod probably a little too enthusiastically. He smiles again, coming closer with promise in his eyes.