Chapter Text
You jumped and slammed the laptop shut when the motel room’s door opened, and you let out a frustrated sigh when Dean walked in. You stood and made your way over to him.
“How many times do I have to tell you to text before you come back so you don’t scare me like that??”
He gave you that cocky smile and slowly snaked his arms around your waist before leaning down to kiss you. You kissed him back, and he intensified the kiss until he bit down hard on your lower lip.
“Oww,” you whined.
You pulled away, somewhat amused, but your fingers still reached up to check for blood.
He didn’t apologize, just nuzzled at the sensitive skin just behind your ear, breathing deeply of your perfume like he always did. Sometimes it felt like he just couldn’t get enough of you. And that was a good feeling.
“Also, why are you back already?” you asked. “Where’s Sam?”
Dean peppered kisses along your jaw.
“He’s still checking something out. It’s probably nothing, so I came back. I was thinking we could… split off for the evening.”
He pulled away far enough to give you a mischievous smile. You wrapped your arms around the back of his neck and smiled too.
“I like the sound of that.”
One of his hands slid under your shirt and traced up your spine, making you shiver.
“Could finally get some time to ourselves,” he said, voice low. “Can get up to no good without Sam bangin’ on the door to let him in.”
“Then let’s get a move on, cowboy,” you said.
The two of you walked down the street to another motel, since Sam had dropped Dean off and had the car. You’d barely made it through the door of the room you paid for before Dean’s hands were all over you. You gladly let it happen, running your hands through his cropped hair while he kissed you passionately.
He soon hauled you up, and you wrapped your legs around his waist, allowing him to move you further into the room. He dropped you down and crawled on top of you, almost his entire body weight pinning you to the bed.
Your breaths became more and more excited while his lips explored your jaw, and then your collarbones.
You could sense that Dean was a little more than riled up tonight, and that usually meant something that drifted into a dom/sub dynamic. It wasn’t the often the two of you fell into explicit roles during sex, but it was always a treat when you did. It usually happened after a particularly rough stretch, and it felt so good to let go and just let Dean use you until nothing else mattered anymore.
Like now.
He lifted himself off of you just long enough to remove your jeans, and then his. You pushed yourself further back onto the bed, and he was soon back on top of you.
You realized how fast he was moving when he started rubbing the tip against you.
You threw your hand out toward your duffel abandoned on the chair next to the bed but couldn’t quite reach it.
“Grab the lube?” you asked. “Can’t reach.”
He braced an arm beside your head and used his other hand to line himself up.
“Aw, we don’t need that, baby.”
You hesitated until he started pushing in, and you tensed up at the discomfort.
“Nope, we definitely do. I-”
You gasped and threw your head back when he harshly pushed further in, the discomfort quickly crescendoing to a sharp pain.
“Ow- Dean, stop it! Grab the fucking lube!”
He paused to look into your eyes, stroking your hair back from your face.
“You can do it, baby,” he murmured. “C’mon—for me. I’ll go slow.”
The following silence was tense, your chest heaving.
For Dean.
You pushed away the nagging suspicion that you’d do anything for Dean and rationalized it instead: You needed this as much as he did. The past month had been awful and stressful and the two of you hadn’t had sex since you’d started this case because those boys couldn’t be bothered to get two motel rooms if it killed them, and-
“Hey,” he prompted.
You nodded and he immediately shoved himself in the rest of the way. The moan you let out was load and guttural, though not necessarily a moan of pleasure. Not at all, actually.
He was already shallowly thrusting, and you grabbed his hair to bring his lips to yours, desperate for something to distract you. He barely kissed you at all before he lowered his head into the crook of your neck, grunting with each snap of his hips as he picked up the pace.
You tried to sneak a hand down to rub at your clit, but he caught your wrist.
“No,” he panted, “no, you don’t need it. You just need me.”
Something in your chest tightened, and you whined.
“Please, Dean…”
“Take it, bitch,” he snapped.
You were so stunned by his tone that you didn’t try to argue.
He kept up his pace, barely kissing you and pulling your hair liberally. His hips ground deliciously into your clit every so often, but for the most part you were just there for him.
For Dean.
You couldn’t think of a time he’d been this desperate for you, this eager to stick it in. You didn’t know if it should concern you that you almost preferred this, even though he paid you next to no attention.
He soon started sucking in sharp little gasps, a telltale sign that he was almost there. You pulled at his hair again, trying to get him to lift his head and kiss you, but his face stayed buried in your neck.
It was only a few more moments before he was coming into you, slowly continuing to move his hips until there was an unpleasant mess between your legs.
Dean was still panting, gradually collapsing his whole weight onto you. You shifted your hips needily, pissed that he seemed to be forgetting something.
“Dean.”
He didn’t reply.
“Dean,” you complained.
That seemed to snap him out of his reverie, and he abruptly pulled out of you, making his way to the bathroom.
You sat up, in disbelief.
“Are you serious?? Where the fuck are you going???”
He looked back at you, annoyance in his expression.
“To shower, dumbass.”
There was no teasing in his voice, no affection. Just venom.
He slammed the door, and the water started running shortly after that.
You sat in shock for several minutes waiting him for him to get out before losing your patience and cleaning yourself up using the sink. He’d mentioned grabbing takeout on the walk over here, but you were ready to call it a night after how he’d just acted.
You were half asleep before Dean finally emerged from the bathroom and clambered into bed beside you.
He didn’t snake his hand around to the front of your shorts like you’d hoped, or even offer you an apology. In fact, he didn’t even acknowledge you at all. He didn’t tuck his face into the crook of your neck, didn’t play with your hair, didn’t pull you close, didn’t even kiss you goodnight.
You shifted further away from him, silent tears eventually falling once he began snoring.
It felt like you hadn’t even slept an hour before Dean was waking you. The sky hadn’t even started to lighten yet.
You sat up, groggy. He was sitting on the edge of the bed beside you, drinking from a steaming hot paper cup of black coffee. There wasn’t a second cup in sight, so you figured you were sharing and reached for it. He jerked the cup away from you, nearly spilling its contents in the process.
“What the hell are you doing?” he reprimanded you.
Tears almost immediately stung at your eyes.
“Why are you mad at me? What’d I say last night?”
“Nothing,” he muttered, sipping his coffee while eyeing you warily, as if you were actively plotting to steal it from his hand.
“Then why were you acting like that last night?” you asked weakly.
He let out a sigh that bore more resemblance to a scoff. He sipped the coffee several more times before he looked at you again.
“We’re going back out this morning.”
You couldn’t contain the tears any longer, but Dean coldly stood and left the room.
“Be at the car in twenty, or we’re leaving you here!” he yelled from behind the closed door.
You took your time before heading back to the other motel. Fortunately, he’d followed through on his threat to leave you behind, and you climbed straight into the musty bed you’d been sharing with Dean for the past month.
You stared at the wall for a long while before you finally drifted off.
-
You blinked open your heavy eyelids when Sam and Dean came stomping through the door together.
It was already dusk outside. Had you really been that exhausted?
You turned on the bedside lamp and stood.
“Hey, sleepyhead.”
Dean ambled over to you and made to kiss your forehead, but you pulled away glaring up at him. He made a face.
“What’s the matter? You mad we were gone so long?”
You huffed and turned your back on him, reaching for your sweater that you’d tossed on Sam’s bed when you’d returned that morning.
“Hey, what’s wrong? Talk to me.”
When his arms started wrapping around your waist from behind, you whirled on him and shoved him away as hard as you could. He stumbled back, shock and confusion on his face.
Sam’s eyebrows shot up, but he kept silent and suddenly became very occupied with reorganizing the contents of his duffel.
“What’s wrong?!” you yelled. “You fucking know what’s wrong! Don’t pull that bullshit with me!”
Dean shrugged off his jacket and tossed it on a chair, running a hand across his jaw before turning back to you, frustrated.
“I’m gonna need you to lay it out for me, sweetheart. It’s been a long day,” he added, obviously doing his best to stay calm, despite how worn out he was.
“Last night, dick!!”
“Last night??”
Dean glanced at Sam, who offered no help. Sam had become quite adamant about staying far away from any disagreements between you and Dean.
“Baby,” Dean almost laughed, “why are you mad about last night? I wasn’t ev-”
You shoved past him, snatching Baby’s keys from the entry table and wrestling open the door on its shitty hinges.
“I’ll pick up food for us,” you spat.
Dean looked at Sam again, hands turned upward in a plea for help, but Sam just glanced up and shrugged.
You slammed the door behind you and once you were safely locked inside the Impala, you began sobbing. You didn’t understand why he was being so awful to you. By the time you’d returned with the food, Sam was already asleep and snoring lightly, Dean in the shower.
You tossed the takeout into the lukewarm minifridge and crawled into bed, not in the mood to eat.
Dean soon emerged from the shower, toweling off his hair and coming to sit beside you on the bed. You rolled away from him, but he leaned over and pulled at your shirt and kissed your shoulder until you turned your head just enough to glare at him.
There was no coldness or annoyance in his face now, just concern.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, pressing another kiss into your shoulder. “I know it’s been a rough few weeks. We’ll wrap this up soon, though. Promise.”
When he ran a hand down your arm and tangled his fingers into yours, you didn’t pull away this time.
“I’m sorry, baby. Are we okay?”
“This whole case is just weird,” you whispered. “All three of us are so strung up and I just want to go home.”
“I know.” He rested his chin on your shoulder and squeezed your hand. “Soon.”
You squeezed his hand back and sighed.
“Speaking of strung up…” he mused.
You raised an eyebrow.
“I remember us discovering a couple months ago that the car is very… spacious.”
You bristled, wary that there might be a repeat of the night before.
“I think we made the best use of the space when my head was between your legs. Wouldn’t you agree?” He smirked down at you as he released your hand, moving his fingers to trace feather-light circles on your navel. “Let me make it up to you for last night?”
You nodded, and soon, Dean was softly shutting the door behind the two of you, arm on the small of your waist and guiding you toward Baby’s backseat door.