skidmo_fic: (shirtless!dean)
[personal profile] skidmo_fic
Title: Let Us Sport Us While We May
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Dean/Jamie (from Monster Movie), mentions of Dean/Castiel (pre-slash)
Word Count: 1639
Warnings: none
Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me...sadly
Feedback: yes, please.
Summary: Dean likes women
A/N: Set just after The Dreadful Night Shall Break. Title is from Andrew Marvel's "To His Coy Mistress".

Dean likes women. (He likes how they smell of things like strawberries and peaches and the ocean. He likes their soft curves and full lips. He likes the way they sigh and gasp and say...)

"Ohhhh, Dean." Jamie wriggles underneath him, scratching her nails against his scalp as he laps at her clit, sliding his fingers inside her just to hear her moan.

(He likes how you can never tell what a woman will be like in bed until she's there. He likes the bad girls, the ones that come on to him instead of the other way around, who smell of leather and cheap perfume and hide fascinating body art under their too tight clothes. He likes the good girls who blush and smile and make him work for it, who don't let him buy them too many drinks and always tell a friend that they're leaving with him. He likes how he never knows which ones will keep quiet in bed and which will moan like a porn star. He likes how so often, the good girls would never say 'fuck' or 'pussy' or 'cock' in their everyday life, but get them between the sheets and it's all...)

"Oh, fuck, Dean...please fuck me. God, I want your cock in my pussy."

Dean chuckles, sliding his hands up her sides, fingers dancing across her smooth, soft skin, up her ribs to her breasts, cupping them gently. "Patience, darlin'," he rumbles, loving the look of desperation in her wide, dark eyes.

"I've been patient enough, haven't I?" she asks, tugging him up to kiss him hard and rolling him onto his back.

(He likes it when they take control, when he can just lie back and watch them, when they can't wait anymore and he doesn't have to think about anything at all, and it's just hot and slick and tight and...)

Jamie slides onto him, thighs tightening around his waist, and she rolls her hips slowly, sighing in relief. It's just like he remembered, and all his time in hell couldn't make him forget what to do here.

It's a relief, in some ways, how his hands know to slide up her body, knead her breasts, tease her nipples, how his hips roll to meet hers without him having to think about it at all, how his fingers run slowly over her back and down to cup her ass and pull her closer, how he moves up to kiss her just as she begins to lower herself to do the same. If he'd lost this...if he'd somehow forgotten it...

Remembering makes him feel more like himself again.

(He likes how they get desperate when they're close to coming. He likes the tiny whimpers, the rough grind of their hips against his, the groans dragged from their lips. He likes how sometimes their eyes go wide and stare right into his and sometimes they squeeze shut like they're trying to hold it inside them as long as they can. He likes how it always seems to be an effort for them to let go, likes how different it is from his own orgasm that just floods through him, irresistible enough that sometimes he has to try and stop himself from sliding over the top. He likes how their bodies go limp under him or on top of him or beside him and they sigh and whisper...)



Dean likes sleeping with women. (He likes how tiny they feel in his arms. He likes the comforting weight of them against his chest. He likes how they make soft noises in their sleep, nuzzling closer to him, seeking his warmth by instinct.)

Jamie snuggles closer to him, and Dean pulls the quilt up over her shoulders. She doesn't wake, just murmurs soft nonsense words, and he's glad she's dreaming of something soft and nonsensical rather than the horror of being betrayed by a friend, of discovering someone you trusted is really a monster. He holds her for a moment longer, then kisses her forehead and slowly, carefully, pulls away from her.

(He likes how their bodies move to follow when he gets out of bed. He likes how sometimes their brows furrow as though they're looking for him, even in their dreams. He likes how their faces settle back into relaxation and they stretch out into the warmth his body left behind.)

This is something else he's glad he hasn't forgotten: how to get out of bed without waking his partner. As he watches Jamie sigh and stretch and fall back into her deep sleep, he wonders if he could ever be stealthy enough not to wake an angel. Then he wonders if Castiel even sleeps at all. Then he shakes his head, whispers, "Get a hold of yourself, Winchester. You're not sleeping with him, and you never will," and pads quietly to the bathroom.

Once he's pissed and washed his hands, he stands in front of the mirror for a while. He splashes cold water on his face and dries it off with one of Jamie's decorative towels. He frowns at his reflection, and his hand moves to his shoulder, covering the hand print scar, trying to remember Castiel's hand, how hot it must have been to have left such a mark. Jamie had asked about it. He'd just said, "Long story," and she'd left it at that, probably thinking it was left over from some fight he'd had with another monster.

(He likes it, sometimes, when they wake up and follow him. He especially likes it when they put on his clothes, covering themselves like he hasn't already seen every inch of their bodies.)

"Dean?" Jamie's cool hand rests on top of his, and Dean looks down to see her standing there, his t-shirt covering her body, just barely grazing the top of her thighs. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Dean says softly, smiling away his thoughts. "Just had to pee."

She nods and takes his hand, tugging him back into the bedroom. "Come back to bed."

He follows willingly, crawling under the covers after her.

(He likes when they're protective of him. It's a change from what he's used to. He likes how they try to wrap themselves around him. He likes how safe he sometimes feels in their embrace, like there couldn't possibly be that much evil in a world where something this beautiful exists.)

Jamie pulls his head down to her shoulder and kisses his hair. "Go to sleep, G-man," she murmurs, and he tucks his head under her chin, chuckling softly, and obeys.


Dean likes waking up with women. (He likes it when he wakes up first, and he can watch them sleep for a while or slide down their bodies under the sheets and go down on them, listening to them waking up with soft moans and quiet gasps, or rock against their still sleeping bodies, just enjoying their softness against his morning erection. He likes when they wake up before him too, and his first conscious thought is...)

"Fuck me," Dean whispers, his eyes not yet open as he starts to push into Jamie's hand.

"Good morning to you too," Jamie replies, and he opens his eyes to see her smiling over him, her face all innocent joy. No one would guess that she had her hand around his cock, pumping him slowly, expertly.

"Mmm...mornin'," Dean mumbles.

She laughs and kisses him, slowly and sweetly, and he pushes her gently onto her back.

(He likes how easy-going they are in the morning, how soft and giggly, how sweet and willing. He likes how lazily they spread their legs, how drowsily they kiss him. He likes how they stretch as he slides into them and gasp...)

"Oh, that's nice."

Dean smiles. "Yeah...yeah, it is."

"Feels good," Jamie adds, sleepy eyes blinking up at him.

"Mmhm...feels real good, darlin'." He rolls his hips slowly, dipping his head to kiss her neck, her shoulders, her breasts, teasing her lips before pulling away. She laughs again and pulls him back, kissing him soundly.

"Where do you think you're going?" she murmurs.

"Nowhere," he answers, and for the moment it's true. For the moment, he's not going anywhere but right here, buried in her. His whole attention, his whole body, his whole mind is on her.

(He likes being able to feel that the woman he's with is the only woman in the world as far as he's concerned. He knows that it's this that keeps women falling for him even when they know he won't be staying. He treats them like princesses, like goddesses. He devotes himself wholeheartedly to whoever he takes to his bed. And he likes that in return, for one night or one morning or one afternoon, they return the favor, and there's no one in their minds but...)

"Dean Winchester, you're going to spoil me for all other men."

Dean grins. "Oh, I hope so, sweetheart."

Jamie stretches out beside him, finding his hand with hers, weaving their fingers together.

"You really have to go?"

"'Fraid so. This isn't the only town with monster problems."

Jamie nods. "I figured. I'll be sorry to see you go."

He grins again.

(He likes that they're always sorry when he leaves. He likes that they miss him, or at least, they say they will. He likes to know that he left something good behind, and as much as he often wishes he could stay, he likes knowing that when he does leave, the memories they have of him will be good ones for the most part.)

"I'm glad you'll be out there, though. Saving the world from...all that."

Dean nods and turns onto his side to look at her.

"Me too, darlin'," he whispers, kissing her gently and brushing her soft hair back from her forehead. "Me too."

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July 2012

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