Rose & Thorn: Becky/Dean

Chapter 2

Probably shouldn't be doing this, Becky thought after she stowed her purse at the check-in desk and Dean had left a message for Roman and Seth, saying he had a hookup and they could leave without him. With her luck, Charlotte and Sasha would be on their way down or they would run into Roman and Seth in the hall, and they would have to answer all sorts of awkward questions. "What floor?" she asked when they stepped into the elevator.

Dean just shrugged as they stepped on the elevator. "I'm good with a bed. A wall. Whatever. Do you like fucking in the shower? I mean, it's handy, because you stay clean, but it's slippery as hell."

Becky jabbed the button for the second floor. It was the most basic floor, for simple hook-ups that didn't involve any toys or equipment, and there was no mingling zone in the centre to try and find a partner. She knew Charlotte and Sasha were on the third floor, intended for people looking for multiple partners, and she wondered where Roman and Seth were. "It's okay, but not a must." The elevator ride was mercifully short, and Becky started looking for rooms with green lights as soon as they stepped into the hall. Since the second floor was the closest and most basic, it could fill up quickly but it also had a high turnover rate.

They had almost reached the end of the hall when a door suddenly opened and one of the housekeeping staff pushed a cart out of a room. "Oh! Sorry. Are you looking for a room?" She gestured back to the one she had just exited. "Freshly cleaned, so as long as you don't mind the cleaner smell...."

"It's great. Thank you." Dean opened the door with his access card and motioned Becky inside. "Any triggers I should know about?"

Becky shook her head. This, she supposed, was the awkward part. Now whenever she saw Dean backstage, she would know that he knew what she looked like naked, how she liked to be fucked, what she sounded like when she came. He didn't seem the sort to blab, though. "No hang-ups, no. You?"

"I don't like being called Daddy." Dean shuddered a bit. "It's creepy."

"Not a worry." She wasn't fond of the trend either.

"Good."

"Figure out the rest as we go?" She hoped he would agree, and not only for simplicity's sake. She had been consigned to not having a good fuck that night, so now that she had the possibility of one, she didn't want to lose it.

"Yeah."

Then Dean was kissing her, lifting her up and pressing her against the wall, hands planted firmly on her ass, and the negotiations were done. She hoped he didn't mind having his hair pulled, so she gave it an experimental tug and was delighted when he practically growled. They stumbled over to the bed, pulling off each other's clothes on the way, and for a moment Becky wondered why Dean wasn't tossing his jeans to the side. Then she saw the three red squares he pulled out of his pocket before letting the jeans drop to the floor. "Oh. Right."

"You have nails." It seemed like it was part statement, part question as Dean handed her one square and set the other two on the bedside table. The room was small but good enough for a simple fuck, and despite the housekeeper's warning, Becky didn't find the scent of cleaning products particularly strong.

"Barely." Becky opened the package gingerly and eased the condom out. Dean was already hard—she was pretty sure he had been since he was in the lounge, and she could admit that she had noticed—so she was careful as she slid the condom in place. She hadn't realized how blue his eyes were until she looked up and saw him watching her intently.

"You sure?" he said simply. It almost seemed ludicrous to ask when they were both naked and she had just put his condom on, but Becky appreciated the thought. When she nodded, he picked her up again and she wrapped her legs around his waist. "Wall?"

"Good place to start."

He entered her before her back touched the wall and she gasped. Dean always seemed deceptively tall—probably because he was prone to slouching, so when he stood straight, it was disarming—but he was stronger than he looked too. Each thrust made the framed art work on the wall rattle, and she cried out as he bit her shoulder. Low enough that it won't be seen, she thought vaguely. Unless she was wearing a tank top, only the girls in the locker room would see the mark, and it would be easy enough to explain away. "Harder," she urged, wrapping her hands around his shoulders and digging her nails in.

Dean was more than happy to oblige, barely shifting his gaze from her when one of the art prints clattered to the floor. "Dumb place for a picture anyway," he grunted. "Bed?" It sounded like a plea and a concession all in one.

"Please." They tumbled onto the bed without Dean breaking his rhythm, and the mattress began to squeak. "God, you're good—"

"Irish," he groaned. "Talk Irish."

Becky felt like her brain was melting anyway, so it wasn't hard to revert to her native language. It was freeing, in a way, since Dean couldn't understand her. She could be as incoherent and desperate and horny as she felt without feeling awkward as well. Better yet, Dean seemed to love it, hands roaming and teasing until she started to scream. She climaxed with a jolt, nearly crying with relief as he kept pumping into her. "Hair," she gasped, "please."

Widening his stance, Dean freed up one hand and wrapped it in her hair, pulling tight. "Like that?"

"Yes." She almost came again as the delicious sharp pain tingled down her scalp, but Dean slowed enough that her second climax didn't hit until just before his first. He sprawled out beside her, sweat glistening on his shoulders, face pressed to her chest. "Holy fuck." He peeled off the used condom and tossed it to the other side of the bed.

"Thank fuck I had condoms left," Dean rasped, biting her nipple. He slid a hand between her legs, making her squirm. "Fuck, Irish, I should've gone downstairs sooner."

Becky wasn't sure how he managed to be rough and gentle with the same incendiary touch, but he did. While he recovered, he kept making her climax over and over: first with his fingers and then with his mouth so many times she was surprised he had any hair left on his head. "Does this mean I have to thank Sasha and Charlotte for bailing on me?"

"Fuck no." He reached for another condom, but paused. "Again?"

Becky nodded eagerly. She was sure she wouldn't be able to stand if she tried; by the time the night was over, she might not be able to walk. But she hadn't felt that lovely cocktail of adrenaline and lust for far too long. "I want to ride you," she said, still catching her breath, "but I need to—"

"Later," Dean promised roughly. "Get on your knees." This time he put the condom on himself, and she was the one watching hungrily.

She was happy to oblige, and damn near ecstatic when he wound a hand in her hair and pulled back, making her back arch as he fucked her from behind. She came far too quickly the first time and would have collapsed if not for his fingers clasped tightly in her curls. Her thighs were quivering from the strain, and the headboard was slamming into the wall over and over. "Harder," she moaned, digging her nails into her thighs.

Dean suddenly pulled her up hard against his chest, wrapping an arm around her breasts as he thrust into her with all the delicacy of a jackhammer. "Do you like being tied up?"

"Yes." Becky was pretty sure she would have said yes to anything in that moment, but the thought of him pinning her down or cuffing her to a headboard so he could utterly ravage her made her mind go blank for a moment.

"Next time," he growled near her ear, trailing rough, hungry kisses down her neck to her shoulder. "We're in Seattle next week, right? They have a Rose & Thorn. You can ride me and then I'll tie you up and repay the favour."

Becky would have loved to ride him tonight and watch him move beneath her, but there was no way her muscles would obey her anymore. "What about Roman and Seth?"

Dean nuzzled her neck so deeply she could feel his teeth grazing her skin. "They can find their own little spitfire," he murmured against her skin. "Next week, you're mine."

Possessiveness was normally a turn-off for her, or at least a glaring red flag, but as Dean brought her to another orgasm, Becky was quite happy to be claimed, at least for a night or two. Maybe more, she thought, as Dean slid a hand between her legs again. Hopefully more....