Cool air rushed into your lungs as you stepped out into the night, the front porch squeaking underneath your weight.
“That was fun,” Dean grinned, cheeks still flushed with adrenaline, and you couldn’t help but grin back. It wasfun. Even if it was violent and scary, the rush of winning, of killing the evil, was always nice. And you didn’t hate the feel of fighting, knowing you were going to win, watching Dean as he moved with the same confidence.
“I’m gonna sleep so hard,” you teased, stretching your arms above your head and drinking in the crisp evening. “But I’m gonna need a drink to unwind first.”
“I can think of other ways to unwind, if you’d rather.” Dean smirked and raised a flirty eyebrow at you as he playfully swatted your butt.
It wasn’t the first time Dean had propositioned you. Hell, it wouldn’t be the first, or even the second or third, time that you’d had sex with him after a hunt. He was gorgeous, and funny, and there was nothing like a really good orgasm to release the aggression that built up during a fight. It was, however, the first time he had smacked your ass.
Immediately, your cheeks burned and you giggled nervously at the ground, unable to control your reaction.
Dean stopped in his tracks.
“What?”
“Nothing,” you managed, keeping your eyes on the Impala and refusing to look back at him.
“No, that wasn’t nothing. What was that?” Dean hurried to catch up with you, grabbing your wrist and turning you, forcing you to look up at him.
“It really wasn’t anything, Dean. Let’s get back to the motel, and I’ll take you up on that offer.”
Dean narrowed his eyes, too smart to be fooled by your distraction. “Come here.”
His arms snaked their way around your waist, pulling your body into his and leaning down for a kiss. It was deep and passionate, like it always was, like Dean really needed to kiss you, to taste you, to feel your lips slotted between his.
And then his hands drifted down, farther and farther, until they were on your ass, squeezing hard. You moaned into his mouth, couldn’t help it, the sound muffled and needy.
“I knew it wasn’t nothing,” he said, his voice more of a growl now. He walked you backwards, kissing his way down your neck, bending you backwards so he was supporting your weight almost entirely, until you bumped into the cold metal of the Impala.
“You want me to?” Dean’s question was a murmur against your ear, hot and sweet.
Oh, God, yes.
“Would…would you?” It wasn’t something you had dared to ask for before. It seemed too far, too desperate. It wasn’t like you and Dean were in a relationship or anything. He probably wasn’t into exploring your kinks.
“Strip for me,” he replied, stepping back, leaving you leaning against his car.
You shivered a little as you obeyed, partially from the cool temperature, and partially from the green eyes smoldering at you, unblinking and hungry. There wasn’t anything particularly sexy about your movements, you didn’t try to put on a show, and yet, there was something surprisingly sensual about him watching you. Like he didn’t already know what you looked like. No. Like he knew, and couldn’t wait to see you again.
When you finished undressing, clothes in a mess on the ground, Dean nodded slightly. “Turn around.”
Pressing right up behind you, close enough for you to feel his body heat without actually touching him, he let his fingers explore, drifting down your bare back, bumping over your spine.
