weary_head | (no subject)

Entry tags:

angua,
naughty

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Midnight found Dean wandering, this time with a bottle of booze. Its quality was as dubious as its color (somewhere between pink and a watery melon), but it did the trick, and Dean thanked the life that had enabled him to sneak so easily into the Hub and steal it away with every burning swallow.

He didn't go to the waterfall this time. Sam had found him there too easily. Strange, that it should be harder than ever to talk to Sam about the deal now that he knew. No burden had been lifted, only another settled on top of the first, and the weight of Sam's disappointment and grief was more than Dean could bear most evenings. Gulping down another awful swallow, he wondered if he'd ever sleep a night through again.

And so it was that he found himself at Angua's hut. He told himself that he wanted to see her new digs, which was true. Why he needed to see them at this time of night, he didn't bother making excuses for. He was too busy making a hell of a lot of noise tripping over her front step.

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His necklace was trapped between them, its cool metal in contrast with the warm weight of her body, but Dean didn't think for a second of taking it off. Her fingers were tight in his hair to the point of pain, and Dean found he liked this, too, encouraging it with a sharp toss of his head.

What wasn't enjoyable was the ever increasing pressure at his groin, and his fingers snaked down between them to flick the button of his jeans open, the ensuing sigh of relief very nearly pornographic.

Dean's fingers brushed against her and she let out a small sound in answer to his own sigh. Angua lifted then, raised up to kneel so that their hips weren't touching. She wanted to take her shorts off, but it seemed so suddenly monumental that she froze where she knelt, breathing hard, her face flushed from everything they'd been doing. Gods, was she really doing this?

"Dean," she whispered, a silent plea in her eyes. If he did it for her, it wouldn't be her choice alone.

Lips parted as he watched her, Dean gave her a minute nod, holding out his hands for her to return to him. When she was again secure against him, he stroked a hand down her back, letting his fingers slide beneath the hem of those little silk things she was wearing.

The silk was soft, but she was softer still beneath, and Dean pulled them down and away slowly, Angua still snug against his body and not so exposed.

Angua all but burrowed against Dean, feeling immediately foolish for it, but somehow better all the same. She trembled a little, swallowing past the tightness in her throat. She'd missed behind touched like this, held like this. But he wasn't Carrot.

And then she was naked. She pressed her nose to Dean's jaw. "Your turn," she whispered.

Dean's hand curled around her hip, holding her still against those shivers as he shifted his own. "Wanna help?"

Nothing felt better than taking his jeans off at the end of a long day, except for when somebody else was doing it for him.

Angua raised her head to meet Dean's gaze and smirked, pushing her emotions back down. She felt like she was going a little mad, but just as soon as she looked at him she was drawn back in. "Lazy," she teased, and leaned in to kiss him again. She held the side of his face, trailing her fingers down and followed with her mouth, pressing kisses along his neck.

She kissed down his chest, swirled her tongue along his skin, and reached both hands down for his jeans. "Lift your hips," she instructed as she unzipped, and when he did she began to pull them, and whatever he wore underneath, off.

Dean lifted obediently, his fingers closing lightly against her shoulders as she divested him of his jeans and, damn, his boxers, too.

"Oh, frisky," he grinned, lowering his bare bottom back to the sheets. He didn't think a thing of being naked with her. Skin to skin was infinitely easier than heart to heart, and always had been.

Angua stretched back out on top of him without comment, her hair fanned out, her limbs settled around him. She looked down at him for a long moment before leaning back in, their noses close.

"Tell me you want it," she murmured, her mouth hovering close to his.

If his heart rate hadn't racheted up several degrees at the feel of her naked body against his, what came out of her mouth just then would've done the job.

"Oh god, yes," Dean breathed out, tightening his hands around her slim shoulders. He could feel the warm core of her settled against his hip, and he lifted them again, panting when he slid against her belly.

Angua caught the end of Dean's reply with her mouth, kissing him hotly, shifting and moving her body with his. She broke away not a moment later, resting her forehead against his as she reached down between them. He was solid in her hand, warm, and she stroked once just to hear him moan.

It was a little terrifying how badly she wanted him, so she wasted no time directing him to her entrance. She raised up a little and then slowly, slowly lowered herself down.

"Gods," she moaned, lowering her head.

Dean might've protested the lack of condom had he not been drunk, but all rational thoughts would have left him anyway the moment her hot flesh closed around him.

His breath left him in a hiss, his hands stealing down to wrap around her hips as she sank down. "Fuck, Angua."

Angua whimpered, feeling as if she was going to lose it just having him inside her. She came down fully, laying across his chest, reaching forward to bring their faces close.

"Dean," she moaned, before pressing her mouth to his, raising her hips, and lowering them once more in one single, slow movement.

It was slow, agonizingly so, but Dean allowed it, too blissed out and stunned by the fact that he was having sex again to announce that he wanted more. His hands stayed steady on her hips as she moved, but his mouth beneath hers was lively, sucking her lip into his mouth around a groan as she sheathed him fully a second time.

Angua was making all kinds of sounds, moans, small whimpers and soft grunts as she moved just a little faster. She concentrated on the stretch, he felt huge at first, and controlling the movement to draw out as much pleasure as she could.

"Gods, you feel good," she whispered senselessly against his mouth, hands fisting in the sheets around his head.

Dean's hands soon moved to make their own knots in the sheets, his arms tightening as he levered his hips up and deeper into her. That was plenty good, and he kept her lazy rhythm for a while, but soon the sweetness began to build within him, and Dean had never been the type to just lie back and let himself be swept away, not even when it was good.

Grabbing at her hips again, Dean held her down on him as he twisted, flipping her slighter body beneath his. He made a soft, inquiring sound against her throat, but his body had already begun to move again, thrusting into her deeply now.

Angua liked it slow, the build-up, the ache. But she certainly didn't complain when Dean flipped her. She scrabbled for his back, holding tight with her arms around his shoulders, and cried out at his first thrust in the new position. The cry tapered off into a moan and she raised her hips to meet his movement, tilting her head back, pressing closer. She was close, already, she could feel it in her toes.

Encouraged by the sounds she made, the way she moved with him, Dean picked up the pace, nosing her head to the side so he could get at her throat. It was a gorgeous throat, unusually long and graceful. It was something Dean might notice when he was sober and not distracted by other things, like the way her bare toes felt against his calf. "Wrap your legs around me," he murmured, sucking on the tendon beneath his lips as her heat took him in yet again.

Angua's fingers dug into Dean's back when she felt his mouth on her neck. "Okay," she said breathlessly, and raised her knees, wrapping her legs around Dean's thighs and hips. She stroked her legs along his skin before holding tight. He was so warm, so soft. The heat was almost overwhelming, inside and out.

"Harder," she quietly demanded, her mouth against his hair.

The angle allowed Dean to go deeper still, so deep that for a moment he almost lost his rhythm as the intensity of it swallowed him up, but he managed to hear her request over the rush of pleasure. His teeth against her throat, Dean pulled his hips back farther, returning them to her with more urgency and a few quiet grunts besides. "Good?" he gasped, sucking her earlobe into his mouth. Whatever else this was tonight, Dean wanted it to be good.

Angua's hands slid from Dean's shoulder blades upward, one cupping the back of his head, the other the back of his neck, holding him close. "It's good," she whispered, breathless. "It's good."

She could hardly keep up with his rhythm, so caught up with how very good it was. Her legs nearly slipped when he hit something inside, again and again and suddenly everything intensified. "Oh gods," she gasped, "Dean..."

"Yeah," he encouraged, as Dean had always been a fan of vocal sex, just as he was a fan of praise in general. Bracing himself on one arm, he slid his free hand beneath her ass to pull her up against him as he thrust, knowing fullwell what had made her gasp and how to do it again for her. "C'mon," he gasped, feeling a spark at the base of his spine as she threw her head back.

"Oh fuck," Angua cried in surprise. She swore, sometimes, but rarely so vulgar. At the moment she could have been speaking in Klatchian for all she knew. "Oh fuck, fuck..." Her hands pawed at Dean's chest, his sides, her hips twisting to meet his.

"Please," she senselessly begged, everything feeling tight and aching just a moment before she came. And then who knew what kinds of sounds she was making, losing herself in the absolute pleasure of the body in and around her and how good it felt.

Dean kept moving against her flailing limbs, the burn of his rapidly tiring thighs just this side of too much, but it was only when her curses had devolved into babbles and moans that he felt his rhythm stutter.

The warm, wet pleasure that snaked down the length of his spine and made him falter still more finally grabbed hold of him and shook. Dean squeezed his eyes closed tight, but the world whited out anyway as he came, his arms hard around her as he buried a ragged groan against her throat.

Angua held Dean as his movements slowed, closing her eyes to focus more on other senses, his warm body, the way he felt inside while he remained there, the scent of sex and sweat and the sound of their heavy breathing. The words I love you were on the tip of her tongue, and though she cared for him in her own way, he wasn't who they were meant for.

"Stay," she whispered instead, kissing his neck and unwinding her legs from around him. "I'll keep you safe."

She couldn't, but Dean didn't hold on to the thought too long, releasing it to slide away with the rest of his thoughts as the warmth that had started in his spine continued to spread, comfortable and heavy now as it seeped into his limbs. "'Kay," he murmured, still mostly on top of her as he settled in.

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