After her shower, she came out into the bedroom to find Dean sitting at the foot of the bed, still naked. He cocked his head and smirked when he saw her. She returned the smirk, dropping her towel while she walked towards him.
“You look like you have mischief in mind, Winchester,” she teased, stopping between his legs and brushing her fingers into his hair.
Dean looked up at her, his eyes half-closed when her fingers massaged his scalp.
“Me? I would never,” he returned, leaning his head back into her touch and looking up at her.
“Mhm, sure,” she wiggled her eyebrows and gave his shoulders a shove.
He went with it and let himself fall back onto the mattress, then scooted up the bed while she followed, crawling towards him with a predatory grin. She settled between his legs, her lips inches from his cock, her breath hot as it fanned over him. He sighed deeply with pleasure, then crooked his finger, beckoning her to move closer. She slid her body along his until their lips met in a deep kiss, their tongues exploring the already-familiar territory, pressing, pushing, sliding against each other in a dance they had practiced before, so many times.
They only broke away when the need to breathe became too great, their lips still brushing against each other, breathing the same air. She saw something in his eyes and gave his ribs a poke, making him flinch.
“Ow. What’s that for?” Dean complained playfully.
“You’ve got something on your mind. Tell me,” she prompted him, propping herself on her elbows to see him better.
“Damn, you’re good.” Dean grinned, oddly proud of her intuition. “Yeah, I got something on my mind. It wasn’t on the list, but I thought maybe you’d wanna try anyway?”
“Tell me,” she prompted again.
“I want you to...uhm…,” he dragged the filler out until she poked him again.
“Don’t you know by now you don’t have to be embarrassed with me, Dean?” Her smile softened, trying to reassure him.
“No, yeah, I know that. You know it’s hard for me to talk about this stuff,” he deflected, then hummed in pleasure when he felt her hand palm his cock.
“Not yet, but it’s got potential,” she quoted her favorite movie at him, making him roll his eyes and snort out a laugh. “Just tell me,” she grinned at his reaction while prompting him.
“Yeah, ok, so uhm…,” he took a deep breath, exhaling sharply, “I want you to sit on my face,” he finally blurted out.
She bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing, but the glimmer in her eyes gave her away.
“Don’t laugh,” Dean whined.
“Not laughing,” she denied, grinning.
She straightened and scooted up his body until she was straddling his chest, her fingers tangling in his short hair. She winked at him, then moved up until her pussy was hovering just out of his reach. His hands came up to cup her ass, then slid further to splay across her lower back, supporting her. She leaned into his touch, shifting to find a comfortable position. When he tried to raise his head from the pillow to reach her, she tightened the grip on his hair, holding him in place. Dean let out a choked moan when she did.
She had noticed before that he seemed to like it when she gave his hair a little tug on occasion. Apparently it was a whole thing with him. She tugged a little harder, getting another moan from Dean. Smiling, she lowered herself until she felt his tongue swipe along her slit. Still holding his head in place, she rolled her hips, sliding her pussy over his face and coating it with her slick.
“Like this, Dean? This what you want?” She gave his hair another tug, his moan vibrating against her.
Dean tried to nod, hampered by her grip on his hair, mumbling a muffled “yes” against her skin. With one hand in his hair, she grabbed the bed’s headboard with the other. Along with Dean’s big hands supporting her back, she felt secure enough to rock on his face, feeling his tongue slip along her folds. He lapped at her like a dog at the water, his lips nipping at her clit. He tried to reach her g-spot with his tongue. He failed, but she enjoyed the feeling.
“Do that again,” she told him, giving his hair another tug.
Dean moaned again and stuck his tongue as deep inside her as he could. She bounced on it like it was a tiny cock, feeling it slip in and out of her.
“Suck on my clit, Dean,” she prompted.
Immediately she felt his lips close on her clit, sucking as if it was a piece of hard candy. Each suck sent a bolt of pleasure rolling through her, tingling across her skin. With her grip on his hair, she pulled him tighter against her, pushing her pussy against his face and grinding against him. The slight stubble scratched the delicate skin of her inner thighs, adding a delicious burn that only heightened her pleasure.
Then he added his tongue flicking over her clit and her grip on his hair tightened, along with the rest of her muscles. The coil in her belly tightened as well, making her tremble with the feeling of her orgasm approaching. It felt as if it could not be stopped, she was pushed toward it so hard it felt like a runaway train. Each breath was a curse, or a prayer of his name, falling like drops of water from her lips. The coil was going to snap any second now, she felt it vibrate through her body. Her skin was damp with sweat, she needed to come. A sharp tug on Dean’s hair made him moan again, the sound vibrating through her, giving her the last tiny push over the edge.
Her body shook above him, thighs clenching around his head. His face was soaked with her juices and he lapped it all up as if it was nectar. He could stay like this forever, where each breath was filled with her and nothing else mattered.
When she slid off him to lie on her back next to him, struggling to catch her breath, he missed the feeling of her. Dean slid an arm under her shoulders and pulled her against his body. She put her head on his shoulder and tangled her legs with his. For a little while at least, there was only them, only that moment.