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It’s damn stupid and you know you shouldn’t do it, at least that’s what your brain is telling you, but your brain isn’t in the driver’s seat right now. How could it be, after Dean has made you come not once, not twice, but thrice with his fingers and mouth.
You’re about ready to pass on to the great hereafter, but still somehow, inexplicably, you have the overwhelming need to feel Dean inside you. You agreed that you wouldn’t, agreed that you would simply get each other off, but you don’t think you’ll last another five seconds without outright begging him to fuck you.
It’s this damn case, that has you miles and miles away from the next town. You packed everything, food, clothes, goddamn books that Dean hasn’t taken a single peak at, but not condoms, because you thought you’d be too busy to need them. Dean disagreed from the get-go, but you thought the small stash he always carries in his wallet would be enough.
You’re on day five, solved the case on day two and ran out of condoms on day three. It’s another day until you’re set to be picked up by Sam, and you’ve been getting each other off for almost all of that time since, without Dean entering you with anything but his fingers and tongue. But yeah, you’re not sure how much longer you have the self-control for that to be enough.
“You can just pull out,” you mutter against Dean’s cheek, while his hard cock is pressed against the outside of your thigh and you run your hand over him. Dean’s eyes are closed, and he’s frowning a little, looking pretty as a picture.
“Too risky. Can’t believe I paid more attention in sex ed than you did,” he says, voice a little cracked and you grin, snuggle closer to him.
“Please, Dean, I want to feel you,” you say, and he groans.
“Darlin’,” he says, tone a little warning but it’s tough to be authoritative with him leaking against your thigh.
“Come on, a girl can’t live on come alone,” you say, voice slightly petulant, referring to the egregious amount of blowjobs you’ve given him in the last 48 hours. Dean huffs, then opens his eyes, looking into yours only a few inches from him.
“Fuck it,” he says and rolls you over on your back, gets on top of you, making you squeak. He kisses you, hard and needy, and then he’s pushing your legs apart. He presses against you, your thighs tensing from how sensitive you are, and when he notices he goes slower.
That means you get to watch his face, get to see every detail of his expression as he enters you bare for the first time.
“Holy shit,” he says and then looks down at where your bodies are meeting. “Jesus fucking Christ.”
You want to say something about how cussing like that will send him to hell, again, but you can’t, because he’s right. It’s different and it’s better and it’s everything you’ve been dreaming of. You raise your head so that your forehead meets his as you whimper, the sheer feeling of his skin directly against your most sensitive parts overwhelming.
You look at Dean’s lips as he slowly continues pushing into you, then pulls out almost all the way again, before pushing back in until you can feel his pelvis pressed against you. You lift one leg up high and Dean hooks it against his side, allowing him to go deeper.
“Oh God, you feel so amazing,” you stutter, and Dean barely manages to nod.
“Don’t know how long I can keep this up,” he says, voice cracking. “You feel too damn good, gonna come in no time.” He picks up his pace a little, and you sling your free leg around him instead of answering, pull him closer.
“You shouldn’t do that,” he says, voice warning, and you know he’s not far off.
“Come inside me, Dean,” you whisper, and his eyes go wide for a second. “Don’t care, I just want to feel you, feel your come inside me.”
“Fuck,” Dean groans, and instead of pulling away, he goes faster, making your head drop back and moan his name.
“Want me to fill you up, is that it?” he asks, and his words send such an intense flash of arousal through you that you clench down on him. Dean groans, but he isn’t done with whatever magical dirty talk he has for you. “You want me to get you nice and knocked up?”
You don’t, not really, but the way he is saying it, the risk and the primality of it make you desperately pull at him.
“Yes,” you huff, moving your hips to meet Dean’s movements, your leg still keeping him close to you. “Yes, oh God, yes, Dean!”
It’s not clear if he expected what he’s saying to have that kind of effect on you, but he looks damn happy with the results. His hips move faster, and with one hand he cups your face, steadying you so that you can’t turn away from him.
“You’d look so beautiful with my babies inside you,” he almost groans and you wrap your arm around his neck, pull him close.
“Fuck, Dean, just—don’t… stop!” is all you can say before you are coming, your lower body bucking up, high pitched whines leaving you.
Dean keeps thrusting into you, uncoordinated now and then he stills, pressing his face against yours as he pumps his come into you. You can actually feel the spread of warmth and it’s the goddamn nicest thing in the world.
Dean’s head falls forward, and he rests on your shoulder, grinding into you a few more times to ride out his high, and it makes his spendings seep out of you, and that’s a sensation you’re not likely to forget anytime soon. He gives one more groan, and then both of you are quiet. You absent-mindedly run your fingers through the short hair at the back of his head.
After a few seconds, Dean needs to pull out and roll off you and you gasp as you feel more of what he left you with leaks out of you. It makes Dean look down at you, and he raises his eyebrows.
He pushes himself up a little, towards you again. Then, for the grand finale, he takes his still hard cock in his hand, crowds in close to you and runs its head against your entrance to collect what has run out of you. Then he pushes back into you again. You whimper at the feeling, the sensitivity, but also at the warmth.
“Oh fuck,” you whine.
“That… is very hot,” he says, and looks back up at your face when you chuckle.
“Yeah?” you ask, voice a little broken. “How hot is it going to be when we have to ask Sam to get me the morning-after pill before he comes here tomorrow?” Dean chuckles, drops his head down. He pulls out of you again, the emptiness disappointing, but then he opens his arm for you to move in, lay your head against his chest.
“I’m sure Sammy will love that,” he says, and you grin. Dean’s hand lands on your shoulder, and he caresses it for a while, before turning his head towards you, his mouth close to your ear.
“Or we risk it?” he whispers to you. “Could be fun.”
You grab for a nearby pillow and swing at his face. Dean raises his hand in time but it makes him laugh.
“You are a damn fool, Dean Winchester,” you say and Dean pulls you close, pins your arms and throws a leg over you.
“Just saying,” he says as you snuggle against him. “I meant what I said. You would look hot pregnant.”
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