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Head Over Heels

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You stand in the doorway of Dean’s room, watching him tighten the knot on his tie and smooth it out over his chest. The ragged breath he pulls in sends a tremor through his body, his brows knitting together as his lack of composure starts to move forward again. You can clearly see the way his jaw clenches when he swallows but when he catches a glimpse of you from the corner of his eye, he inhales sharply, wiping away the tears that had started to bubble up.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he rasps, forcing a smile onto his lips as he faces you. “Is it time to go?” You are not accustomed to seeing such a softness to Dean’s face, something that more than hints at the vulnerability that he is experiencing. Crossing the room, you grab his jacket from the foot of the bed, stopping in front of him with the clothing held firmly in your grasp.

“We don’t have to do this, you know,” you say, softly, reaching one hand to let your thumb brush away the stray tear that has managed to roll down his cheek. “I mean, you’ve been out of town for a few weeks, maybe you should just stay home and relax.” He sniffles, trying to make his grin more believable when he takes the jacket from you.

“Nah, I think it’ll be good,” he nods, taking a half step back from you to slip his jacket on. “I’ll regret it if we don’t.” When his hands drop to his sides, slumping his shoulders, you take the step to close the space between the two of you and straighten out his lapels. “Mmm,” he hums, fingers taking a firm hold of your hips. “I love you, sweetness.”

“I love you, too,” you reply, pressing your lips softly to his for a quick kiss. “We should go now so we aren’t late.”

When you arrive at the funeral home, Dean keeps his head down and leads you towards the back row of chairs, where you both take your seats at the end. For the entire duration of the service, Dean remains silent, keeping your hand on his lap, trapped between both of his hands. Every so often, his grip tightens to something so firm it nearly cuts off the circulation to your fingers, but the moment does not last long before he loosens his grasp once again.

By the time the service ends, your hand is drenched with sweat, so you discreetly wipe it at the side of your dress when he releases his hold. He turns his head to look at you, tears once again brimming his eyes, but he clears his throat and blinks them clear.

“Ready to jet, gorgeous?” he asks, with a smile.

“You don’t want to…?” you trail off, gesturing towards the other room where the other attendees begin to congregate. “You said you haven’t seen most of them since high school.” Dean swallows hard, scrunching his face as he shakes his head.

“Nah, I’d rather get back to the house,” he shrugs. “Could use a drink.” You nod, allowing him to lead you towards the back exit of the building, effectively avoiding the other visitors. “You wanna drive?” he asks, fishing his keys from his pocket to hold out to you.

“You don’t even let Joe drive your car,” you reply, pressing your hand to his forehead to check for a fever. “You feelin’ alright, Karny?” With a small chuckle, Dean snatches your hand from his head and presses the keys into your palm – he closes your hand around them and kisses the top of your hand.

“Maybe I wanna see how sexy my girl looks behind the wheel,” he says with a wink. Dean pulls his sunglasses from his jacket pocket, slipping them onto his face as he gestures for you to lead the way to the car.

During the ride, Dean keeps quiet and you are hyper focused on the road to make certain that you drive carefully. Every so often, you can see Dean out of the corner of your eye, watching you intently, until finally he reaches out to brush your hair from your face. His fingers slowly brush over your cheek, and down your neck, his touch so light it is almost non-existent. Tilting your head slightly to the side, you press a kiss to his fingers.

“Eyes on the road, missy,” he says, gently pushing your face forward again.

Once you reach Dean’s house, you find it abandoned, much to your delight – you always enjoy having alone time with your boyfriend. Dean brushes past you, making his way directly to the kitchen where he digs out two bottles of Heineken, stopping to pry the caps off of both. He makes his way towards the bedroom, taking both bottles with him but taking a long slug of one as he goes.

Taking the hint, you follow Dean’s lead towards the bedroom. You find him sitting on the foot of the bed, twisting his fingers around his drink while he loosens his tie with his free hand. His shoulders slump as he looks up at you, finally allowing a single tear to roll down his cheek.

“Life is, uh…precious, ya’know?” he says, quietly. “I mean, Collins was in the grade below me in school…he was so young.” He pauses briefly to take a sip of his beer, swallowing hard. “A fuckin’ car accident?” he says. “How the fuck are you supposed to go through life knowing that it can just end at any moment?”

“Hey, hey,” you whisper, crossing the room towards him, and taking a seat beside him on the bed. “Don’t think like that, baby – you can’t.” You hook one arm around his waist, scooting yourself as close to him as you can. “What happened to Collins was tragic,” you continue. “But do you think for one second that he would want you to dwell like this?”

“Probably not,” he sighs, taking another chug of his drink. “But, Jesus, baby girl, what if it was you? If I ever lost you, I don’t know what the fuck I would do.”

“You aren’t gonna lose me, Dean,” you mumble. “Why would you think–?”

“He was on Broadfield,” Dean rasps. “You take that road all the time…it could have just as easily been you.” Pressing your forehead to his, you breathe out slowly, your fingers stroking along his jaw; gentle as can be, Dean hums softly and leads into your touch. “It could have been you,” he repeats, much softer this time.

“But it wasn’t me, Dean,” you whisper, threading your fingers through his hair to tip his head back. You arm that is wrapped around his waist squeezes tighter to keep him against you. “Please, you can’t think that,” you continue. “If anything ever happens to me, know that I will fight my way from the icy grip of death to come back to you, because I will not allow one of those sluts from the club dig her claws into you.” Finally, Dean laughs, grasping your face gently to pull you in for a kiss. “I love you, Dean Karny,” you continue. “And I’m not going anywhere – I’m in this until well into the afterlife. So, how does that make you feel?”

“A little better,” he whispers. You hum softly, tilting your head to the side to gaze deep into his eyes as your nuzzle against the palm of his hand. “Ya’know, nobody has ever looked at me the way you do,” he says. “I don’t think you realize it, but you look at me like I’m your lifeline…like you can’t survive without me, but you don’t realize that you’re the one who saves me. Every fucking day.”

A gentle smile stretches across your lips while your eyes take in the vulnerability within his gaze. Your fingers wrap around the beer bottle he still holds, gently tugging it from his grasp to take a small sip; Dean’s eyes, puffy and slightly red, follow your motions as though he has never seen you drink before. Letting out a small laugh, you stand from the bed, and as you make your way towards the dresser, you watch Dean through the mirror, seeing that his eyes never once leave your body.

When you turn back to Dean, he blinks slowly, his eyes finding their way down your body before back to your face once more. You slowly make your way towards him, putting a small sway in your hips to make certain that his focus remains on you. Once you reach him, your fingers curl around the lapels of his jacket, pulling him forward as you dip down to kiss him. Dean murmurs something against your lips that you cannot decipher, his hands moving to set on your hips so he can keep you standing between his legs.

“So,” you begin, as you break from the kiss, helping him slip the jacket from his shoulders. “I save you, huh?”

“Yeah, you do.” His voice is barely above a whisper, soft and gentle, unlike you have ever heard it before. The normal vigor that sets into his tone is lost, instead replaced with want that is so heavy, it spreads across his face. With another smile, this one only slightly more suggestive than the last, you loosen his tie enough to pull it over his head and discard it to the side.

“Do you wanna know what you do to me?” you ask, taking Dean’s hands and setting them at the hem of your dress. When you let go of his hands, he takes the hint, humming softly as he trails his hands up your thighs, pushing your dress up as he goes.

“I know what I do to you,” he whispers, fingers catching the elastic of your panties at your hips. The look on his face remains almost stoic keeping eye contact with you, slowly working your panties down your thighs. With a warm smile, you set your hands on his shoulders to keep yourself steady while you step out of your panties. “I missed being able to touch you the last few weeks,” he says, not breaking eye contact with you as he slips his hand between your thighs to glide his fingers between your folds. “Seems like you missed me, too.”

“Mmm,” you hum when he brushes across your clit. You give a small squeeze to his shoulders, lifting your leg to press your knee against the bed at Dean’s side to give him more access to your heat. When he retracts his hand, you see his fingers damp from your slickness, and Dean does not waste the opportunity to push them between your lips to clean them.

“Why don’t you take this off, huh?” he asks, tugging at the hem of the dress.

“Take it off for me,” you suggest. With a smirk, Dean eases your leg back to the ground, urging you to take a step back from as he stands.

“Turn around for me, gorgeous,” he whispers, taking your hand and helping you spin around. You feel his fingers catch the pull of your zipper, taking his time dragging it down. He presses a soft kiss to your neck, but parts his lips to let his teeth and tongue touch along where his lips had been. When he trails his tongue higher and gently bites at your earlobe, you whimper quietly, reaching behind your back to grab his waist. “Your skin tastes so sweet,” he whispers, fingers slipping beneath the fabric of your dress to slide the fabric off of your shoulders. “How do you do that?”

“Mmm, that’s my secret,” you respond, bumping your head against his.

Dean takes a step back from you to allow your dress to drop to your feet, so you can remove it along with your shoes. You are barely standing upright again when Dean begins to unhook your bra, having it off of your arms in a flash, discarded to the side with your other clothes.

Dean’s arms wrap around your waist, pulling your body against and attaching his mouth to your neck once again, but this time with more aggression. He leaves a trail of bites from your pulse to your shoulder, distracting you from the feeling of his hand moving down your stomach.

As soon a you feel his hand prying apart your thighs and his fingers locating your clit, your entire body is filled with butterflies. With a gasp, you bent at the waist, grasping onto Dean’s wrist as he quickly rubbed your clit. You hear him let out a sinful chuckle, his other arm locking in tighter around your body to keep you from wiggling free.

“You told me you aren’t goin’ anywhere,” he whispers in your ear, leaning along with you as you twist in his grasp. “Why are you trying to get away, hm?”

“Dean,” you giggle, but quickly let out a gasp when he rubs faster. “Fuck, c’mon, I was trying be sweet, don’t do–oh, fuck!” Dean catches you off guard by pushing his fingers into your entrance, so you squeeze your thighs together, trapping his hand.

“Oh, I’m sorry, gorgeous,” he chuckles. “Were you saying something?”

Finally, Dean’s grip loosens enough for you to break away, taking a few staggered steps away from him before you spin around to glare at him. The smug, amused smirk is spread wide across his lips as he slowly begins to unbutton his shirt.

“You’re egregious,” you mutter, crossing to the other side of the room to the stereo. You switch to the FM stations, spinning the tuning knob until you find a station playing a song you love. Turning the volume up enough to fill the room, you hum along and absentmindedly shake your hips to the beat, as you spin to face Dean. “That’s a sight,” you murmur, feeling your cheeks flush.

Dean is completely naked now, sitting in bed, propped against the headboard. His hand slowly strokes over his erection, pausing momentarily to lick the palm of his hand before continuing. The smirk that was on his face just minutes before is now replaced with something stony, and focused – his eyes are darkened with lust, never leaving your body.

“Get over here,” he rasps. Maneuvering back to the bed, you get an idea to tease Dean only slightly, so you stand on the mattress, setting your feet on either side of his thighs and bracing yourself by pressing a hand to the ceiling. “Fuck,” Dean breathes out slowly, staring up at you with wonder. “How’d I get so lucky?”

“I’m the lucky one,” you whisper, feeling Dean’s hands stroking up your calves. His fingers keep slipping higher, sitting up so he can reach your thighs, grasping them firmly and pulling you down to your knees on top of him.

“C’mere,” he whispers, pressing his lips to yours. As he ran his fingers up your thighs, you tease your heat against his erection, causing him to inhale sharply and break from the kiss. “Thought we weren’t teasing,” he asked, breath blowing softly against your face.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you say something?” you echo his previous statement, grinding against him again.

Dean does not answer, instead hooks his arm around your waist and presses himself against you to keep you still, while his free hand takes hold of his erection. Feeling him rub the head of his member against your clit, you let out a shaky breath, trying to wiggle your hips down but you find yourself caught in his strong grasp.

After he teases you for a moment longer, Dean presses himself into your entrance, pulling you down gently to bury himself in to the hilt. He sighs contentedly, hands rubbing your hips while his eyes stare longingly into yours. For a moment, you do not move, only get lost in the various sensations: Dean’s hands holding you firmly, his breath heavy on your neck, his length stretching you out just right.

“Every time is like the first time with you, baby girl,” he whispers, nipping at your collar bone. “Always so tight around me.” He releases his grasp on you resting back against the headboard, and covering his face with his hands before slipping his fingers into his hair and fisting it.

“I’ll go slow, baby,” you whisper. “I know you haven’t had it in a while.”

“Mmm,” Dean hums out into a chuckle, shaking his head. “Watch yourself.”

With a grin, you take his hands and thread your fingers with his, holding on to help you move slowly. You start by lifting off of him to only leave his tip inside of you before lowering once again, repeating the motion over and over, listening to the gentle moans that he lets out each time. His grip on your hands tightens, his hips shifting impatiently beneath you, only making you grin at him.

Planting hard on top of him, you roll your hips, pinning his hands to the headboard at either side of him. He gives you a warning glare, that immediately fades into a whimper as your speed increases, riding him at a slow and steady pace.

“Does it feel good?” you inquire softly, leaning in to kiss his neck. Instead of responding, Dean uses his grip on your hands as leverage, forcing you away from him so you fall to your back on the mattress between his legs. “Dean, what–” He moves to settle onto his knees between your legs, pushing back inside of you while he opts to pin your thighs down to the mattress.

Without much warning Dean slides into you once again, but quickly pulls back before snapping his hips forward against you hard. You gasp out, reaching for him, but he repeats your action of threading your fingers together and pinning your hands to the bed beside your head. Slowly, he works into you, making certain to add a pop of his hips every so often to jar a moan out of you. While he moves, he peppers kisses along your neck and collar bone, sneaking one from your lips as well.

Once he releases his grip on your thighs, you wrap your legs around his waist, you pull him deeper inside of you, making you both moan with pleasure. Each time Dean pulls back, you tighten your legs to force him back inside of you, deeper each time, until you are satisfied with the quick pace you have set together.

“Fuck, Dean,” you gasp, squeezing his fingers tightly as he pounds harder into you. You feel as though you will collapse through the mattress from the force of his thrusts, but as you feel the twisting inside of your stomach, Dean slows his motions to a near standstill. “Dean,” you whine. “Don’t stop.”

“Mmm, listen to me,” he mutters, looking down into your eyes as he lets go of your hands. He leans his body flush against yours, resting his weight on his forearms that are on either side of your head. You feel his breath heavy on your neck, as he continues his slow pace. “I’m gonna fucking come inside of you,” he whispers. “And fill you up. Do you want that?”

“Yes, fuck, please yes,” you plead, wrapping your arms around his back.

You drop your legs from around Dean’s waist, spreading them wide to allow him more space. He resumes his hard thrusts, rocking the bed against the wall with each push, and sending a loud thump through the air. Your nails dig into his skin, desperate to keep his body close to yours as the friction between your skin reignites the fire within you, creeping closer to your climax.

Dean’s breath comes in heavy pants, breath sticky and hot against your skin. One of your hands moves to thread through his hair, fisting it hard enough to drag him towards you for a kiss. You stifle his moans in your mouth, your kisses sloppy and desperate. There is a sudden stutter to Dean’s thrusts and you drop your hand from lower to his backside, giving it a squeeze to help him continue his thrusts.

“Feel like heaven,” he murmurs, nipping at your jaw. “Gonna come.”

“Dean,” you moan. “Please.”

Dean growls against your skin, thrusts becoming more pointed and forceful, speeding up with each movement. Your grip on him is so powerful you are sure that you are hurting him, but the wanting moans that tear from his mouth tell you not to stop. Making every effort to reach your climax, you thrust your hips upwards to meet him, the tightness in your stomach pulling more firmly and you know that it is close.

Dean’s motions become sloppy, losing the timing and steadiness that had previously had, but gaining more force, hitting you deeper and deeper. With a strangled moan of your name, Dean shoves in harder, spilling inside of you but continuing his swift motions. The feeling of his warmth coating your walls sends you into your own hazy climax, your moans turning into whimpers as you pull his body closer to yours.

The orgasm spreads throughout your body, quick trembles and quakes hitting your limbs before you go limp, riding out the small aftershocks. The entirety of Dean’s weight rests on top of you, both of you panting hard, skin stuck together with sweat, but not yet daring to move. You feel his lips leaving a trail along your neck, making his way back to claim your mouth once again in a tender kiss. When finally Dean decides to pull from you, he sits up on his knees, staring down at your body for a moment, eyes half-lidded and mouth agape – still the corners of his lips pull up into a small smirk.

“What is it?” you whisper.

“Stay right there.” Dean is off of the bed in a flash, exiting the room and leaving you to lay in your post-climax bliss. Finally, he returns, climbing back into his original spot, and you open your eyes just in time to see him snapping a Polaroid of you.

“Dean,” you whine, reaching to snatch it from his grasp, but he leans away.

“You are so goddamn gorgeous,” he whispers. “Red cheeks, bruised hips, sweat soaked, with my come leaking out of you? I need to save the moment.” You shake your head, closing your eyes once more as you realize it is useless to argue with him. “I love you, baby girl,” he says, and you feel him lean over to kiss you gently on the lips. “I’d be lost if anything ever happened to you.”

“Like I said before,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around him as he rests on top of you. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m yours, now and forever. I love you.”