It came about by accident, on one of Dean's better nights. He was drunk, but not smashed. Just a splash of pink color flushing his cheeks, making his freckles pop deliciously. Lisa wanted to trace from one to the other with the tip of her tongue. His lids were heavy, lashes thick and low, his full pretty lips tipped up in a half-smile.
This was the first night since he'd come that Dean loosened up a little, dragged himself out of his head just long enough to actually feel what was going on around him. After sharing beers with Lisa, playing Guitar Hero with Ben and eating apple pie straight from the tin, standing in socks at their kitchen island, Lisa dragged him up the stairs stifling giggles and her excitement.
They'd had sex, of course, just a few times since Dean had been there, but it wasn't yet a regular thing. And it was hollow and a little scary every time they did it. Dean dragged orgasms out of her, ones she didn't really want to give up and neither of them had gotten much pleasure from the act. Sometimes Dean cried after, but he pressed his face into the pillow and never let her console him.
On that night, Lisa was hopeful for something a little warmer, something sweet and playful like that night she'd spent with him all those years ago. She was so eager to get that from him, so determined, that once they made it to the bedroom, Lisa pushed Dean down on the bed. When Dean's back hit the mattress, his smile wavered a little, but he let Lisa crawl up over him, straddle his hips with clear intent.
Dean's hands going to her thighs spoke of his acceptance, but there was something in the way his eyes dimmed that was reluctant. "No," Lisa told him on pure instinct and it came out in her commanding Mom voice. It was the tone she used when Ben pestered her for too long. She took Dean's wrists in her hands, dragged the touch away and pressed Dean into the bed. "Just let me."
Dean didn't even hesitate, just sagged into their fluffy bedding and looked up at her. His eyes cleared a little as he waited patiently, pliant under her grip.
It sort of snowballed from there. You see, Dean isn't the type to relinquish control of much, but Lisa's come to realize that those are the people who need to surrender. If there had been any real threat, if Lisa were someone who could beat Dean, he would have fought her biting and spitting. Only because she was soft and small, only because he knew she would never hurt him, did he allow her such complete authority over him. And that trust alone was enough to make it exciting for her.
There are no costumes or props for their games. She hasn't stocked their closet with leather and chains. There's no safe-word. There's only Lisa's command and Dean's immediate compliance.
Lisa likes Dean naked and on his knees and she is always gentle with him. Pain is rarely ever part of it. Sometimes she bites and claws at him, but only when it's so good, only when she's stuffed full of his dick, riding him like a pony and him clinging to the sheets because she told him hands off.
Having Dean posed on his knees in the middle of her plush carpet is such a pretty fucking picture. While she circles him, Lisa takes in every little thing that makes him perfect. Strong powerful shoulders, fine narrow waist, ass curving out from the dip of his spine. Lisa loves every part of him, from the tips of his washed clean hair, to the hard line of his gorgeous cock, to each scar that mars his pale skin.
When they first met, Lisa asked him, "So, what do you do for a living, Dean?"
Dean hesitated for a second, just a fraction of a second really, like he was formulating a lie for her, but didn't really want to. "Guess," he'd said instead.
"Male model," Lisa joked immediately, skimming her flirtatious eyes over his too perfect face.
Dean had laughed without bothering to blush at her compliment. So she knew exactly how aware he was of his good looks. "Got it in one," Dean joked back. "January cover of Playgirl, baby."
Dean stayed on his knees, let her look her fill, but this time he does blush. Being appreciated is no problem, but being objectified so completely changes the game.
Lisa stops before him and pauses, deciding on how to proceed now that she's got him there. He's entirely bare, and she's wearing one of his shirts. It's just barely long enough to cover her bare ass and rucks up higher when she seats herself on the foot of their bed. "Stroke yourself for me," Lisa demands. "I want to watch you come."
She's only asked this of him once, usually reluctant to waste such a fantastic hard-on to his hand alone, but tonight Lisa wants to tease. Dean complies immediately, wrapping those callus-tipped fingers around his dick, those fingers she loves to suck on and guide into her where they reach all the best parts. He starts off slow and loose-gripped and she allows it, for a few minutes, just watching.
It would be easy to demand that he go faster, that he tighten his grip, but instead Lisa leans back on her hands and spreads her thighs wide. The cool air hits her where she's already wet and aching and Dean's eyes follow, his breath hitching, his hand stuttering and then speeding up.
"Are you looking at my pussy, Dean?" Lisa asks very seriously, not a hint of playfulness to her tone.
"Yeah," he breathes, hand tightening, hips rocking into it.
"Tell me how pretty my pussy is, Dean."
That gets her a nice little blurt of precome and a gasp. Dean licks and chews at his lips for a second before he says, "So pretty, Lis. Got such sweet, little lips. All shiny and wet."
Lisa lets one hand skim over her inner thigh, spreads a little wider, wide as she can before pulling her lips open with two fingers.
"God, yeah, Lis," Dean goes on stroking harder and faster, hips snapping into his hand. "You're so pink and slick."
Dipping into her center, Lisa smears her wetness up and down, gets her clit caught between her knuckles and displays herself completely, wide open and slutty. "You wanna taste it, Dean?"
"Yeah, please, lemme taste you," Dean breathes.
Dean loves to lick her out, gets off on it hard, but when she finally lets him, Lisa wants him focused. "Finish up for me and I'll let you."
Dean speeds his stroking at her words, hand blurring over his dick, the other gripping his thigh tight enough to whiten the skin. "Both hands," Lisa tells him, fiddling with her clit lazily while she watches. "Touch your balls, baby."
The blood rushes back to where Dean had clutched himself so tight, going red and flushed. Probably, there will be bruises later. Instead he cups his tight balls, gives them a slow roll, gentle there while he's rough with his dick. It's a punishing pace, rocketing him to the finish. The muscles in his thighs shift and tighten, he thrusts sloppily into his hand and starts spurting, come splashing up and over his bunching abs. It's hot as all get out, the way he paints himself for her.
"Come here, baby," Lisa tells him as soon as Dean's wrung himself dry and he shuffles to her. His half-hard dick bobs with each awkward shift, but Dean doesn't stop until his shoulders are nudged into the spread of her thighs.
"Hands behind your back."
At this point Lisa's desperate for him, aching and soaked. She uses him shamelessly, grabbing the back of his head and dragging his mouth to her cunt. It's more awkward without the aide of his hands, but Dean noses through her folds, spears her with his clever tongue before licking up to her clit.
"Right there," Lisa gasps, tilting her hips into the pressure.
This is the only time Lisa ever gets greedy, with Dean's mouth working on her, his stubble rasping where she's most sensitive. She keeps a hard grip on his hair, keeps him where she wants him while he sucks and tongues her. It's great fucking head, the best she's ever had, but Lisa wants a little bit more, feels empty.
Dean moans and the vibration sends shocks of pleasure through Lisa, her cunt fluttering around nothing, all hungry to clamp down on something. Roughly, she shoves her hand between them, gets two fingers inside to fill the gap.
"Yeah," Lisa breathes in relief, head thrown back, humping up against Dean's face where she has him smashed tight against her. "That's it, baby."
And then she's locking up, fluttering and shuddering through orgasm. Her thighs tighten around Dean's head, her leg judders and her heel drums into Dean's back. Dean gets her through it, swirls his tongue and hums and sucks. Lisa's walls flutter around her fingers, going slicker as she comes and comes again in quick succession.
After it's done, Lisa slumps against the mattress, knees hooked over Dean's shoulders while he noses and breathes against her pubis.
"Now get up here and cuddle me," Lisa demands with a satisfied laugh and just like that, Dean's there, guiding her up to the pillows and doing just as she said.