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toy soldier

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Dean's movements are dazed and stumbling as he tugs his pants off awkwardly in the cramped space.

Gordon watches as the gleam of streetlight on the leather seat is covered up by Dean's discarded jeans and then looks back at Dean himself, firm hands guiding him to a kneeling position between his legs.

The footwell of the Impala's passenger seat doesn't allow them much room and Dean looks smaller and younger than ever, body hunched up as Gordon coaxes those sinful lips around his cock with the encouragement, "Get it good and wet, Dean."

Glassy green eyes blink up at him. He can see the instruction swimming through the alcohol which floods the boy's system but Dean sucks anyway and Gordon wonders exactly how much John Winchester trained into his son.

He groans out a "That's it" and a "Good..." when Dean's lips and tongue trail sloppy paths up and down his cock. The movements are robbed of co-ordination by the whiskey but the underlying skill (and no doubt hours of practice) are still there and Gordon is thankful for whoever turned the boy into such a talented cocksucker.

He looks down in time to see Dean plant a slow kiss on his coclhead. He doesn't know whether he's imagining the slutty glint in Dean's eyes but acts on it anyway, grabbing him by the hair and tugging him up.

"On my lap like a good boy," he orders, voice low, gravelly, and filled with more need that he intended to show.

Dean doesn't even blink at the words, and positions his clumsy legs either side of Gordon's hips, hands grabbing the his arms for balance as he sways as though in a breeze.

Bent over in the low-roofed car, Dean mumbles in his ear, voice quiet and vulnerable against the noise of police sirens speeding past outside, "Wanna- Want you t' fuck me."

The lights of the passing squad car light up the body above him and Gordon swears under his breath at the sight of Dean, long eyelashes framing bloodshot eyes and smooth body illuminated red and blue against the night.

"Fuck..."

Dean takes that as a command and with an eagerness that surprises Gordon, sinks down on his cock, throat bared and sweat-caked as he whimpers pitifully.

Only turned on by the mewls and meaningless murmurs of pleasepleaseplease that tumble from Dean's lips, Gordon grips his slender hips, forcing him into a fast rhythm on his cock as Dean cries out above him.

"Take it," he urges, fucking up into the pliant body above him. "Take it all, Dean. Like you always have done."

He doesn't know where the words are coming from but they reach Dean, who starts moving without any second thoughts and without anything other than saliva to ease the way.

They rock together. Dean's ass is hot and tight around his length and Gordon watches the hunter ride his cock like he was made to do so, confidence and cockiness stripped away to leave a body that just wants to please.

He comes hard. He doesn't know if Dean does the same but he does help Dean's trembling hands locate his own jeans when they've finished.

In the quiet that follows, Gordon honestly doesn't know what to say to the silent boy, finally settling on for an all-too-businesslike, "Good work, Dean."

Dean's smile is sleepy and proud.