Dean Winchester (forgetthehearse) wrote in drinkingdjinn, @ 2009-04-15 19:19:00 |
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Entry tags: | john/dean, past |
Episode 0x03 - Rewards
Who: John Winchester, Dean Winchester
When: 1997
What: After a ghost hunt, John gives Dean his reward.
Where: On the Road
:The nice thing about ghosts, Dean reflected, was that you ended up bleeding less. Granted, he had an amazing new network of bruises, but they did not need as much care. He let them into the hotel room, throwing his duffel bag down and giving John a grin.
Dean did very well, and John remembers his promise. He sets down his bag and stands in front of Dean, trailing his fingers lightly over his arms, not quite meeting his eyes. "You did a good job. A very good job, in fact."
Dean feels the heat pool in his stomach at the words; he wets his lips, looking up at John. "Did I?" He feels like he should tell John that he does not have to do this, but he does not know how he would take him not carrying through.
He makes a sound of affirmation, his fingers slipping under the hem of Dean's shirt to tease over his hips. It takes him a few moments to try and decide what they should do, in the end simply deciding to improvise. He leans in and brushes a kiss against a growing bruise on Dean's neck. "Shirt off, on the bed."
Dean inhales sharply, before nodding, stepping back and removing his shirt as ordered. He kicks off his shoes and socks, too, before sitting on the bed, leaning back on his hands and watching John.
... oh. God, Dean is beautiful. Even as beat up as he is -- maybe even because of it, the way the bruises stand out against his skin, splashing him with blues and greens and purples. He just watches Dean for a moment, spread out on the bed, for him. For John. He pulls off his own shirt and stretches out on top of Dean, bracing his hands against the bed and kissing him, slow and deep.
Dean closes his eyes and returns the kiss, parting his lips for him. He lets himself down onto the sheets, tangling his fingers in John's hair to pull him down as he goes, so that their kiss will not be interrupted.
John moans quietly, licking into Dean's mouth as Dean leans them back against the bed. He slides his hand over Dean's side, then down and around onto his ass, pressing their hips together. This is insane, they both know it, but neither of them want to stop. It shocks and and amazes John that Dean would ask for this, but it feels good to know that he isn't alone in his feelings.
Dean groans as their hips rub together, bracing his feet against the bed to press up as well. He clenches John's shoulder with a hand to hold himself up, hard enough to leave marks.
Dean arching into him, pressing against him, begging for more with his actions and his moans is so deeply arousing that it scares John, a little. He slides his and down the back of Dean's pants, onto his ass, dragging his nails over his bare skin.
Dean bites his lip to keep from crying out, his own nails digging into John's shoulder. He reaches down with his other hand to unfasten his own jeans, but his fingers hesitate on the button, unsure if John would want him to.
"Yes..." he sighs, dragging his teeth over the bruise on Dean's neck, his free hand moving between them to undo Dean's jeans before returning to the bed. He bites at Dean's chest, sucking his own bruise into his skin.
Dean gasps slightly, helping John with the zipper. He nearly touches himself, because he's hard and that is his first reaction, but he stops; his hand trembles slight as he changes his mind, lifting it up to brush against John with the back of his hand.
John makes a quiet, needy noise in the back of his throat, shifting to press against Dean's hand. He starts to tug Dean's pants down with one hand, but gets distracted by kissing over Dean's throat, nipping lightly here and there.
Dean turns his wrist to cup John in his palm, rubbing lightly; it feels so strange to feel another guy's- he does not even let himself finish that, instead just focusing on the feel of pressure against the denim and John's kisses teasing him to madness.
He exhales through his teeth, his fingers digging into Dean's hips for a moment before he shifts down to kiss lower on his chest. He wonders what his girls did for him, if they knew anything about foreplay at that age or they just fucked. He wonders just how far he could push Dean before he broke down and begged. Slowly, he slides Dean's jeans down and off, leaving the boxers for the moment. With a quick glance up at Dean to see his reaction, he licks slowly over a nipple, then bites down lightly.
John pushes Dean's hips back down against the bed, holding them there firmly as he explores Dean's chest with lips and teeth and tongue. He doesn't want to miss an inch of skin, biting over bruises and making his own, tongue tracing over scars almost delicately. His fingers skim lightly, teasingly over the front of Dean's boxers before returning to his hip, stroking over the skin there.
Dean's fingers find their way into John's hair and tangle themselves there, wanting to him to keep going. He wants to be able to move, to thrust against something - oh, those fingers, please God, that'll do - but he cannot fight John. He makes small sounds in his throat, interrupted only by little gasps of pleasurable pain.
This is good -- this is better than John could ever have imagined. Dean's body, tense and wanting under his, aching for his touch. And those little sounds that slip past his restraint drive him absolutely crazy. He licks over Dean's stomach, tugging his boxers down just enough to scrape his teeth along the line of his hip before pushing back up to kiss his neck again.
Dean whimpers, releasing John's hair only wrap his arms tightly around him. He tries to pull him down and push up at the same time, placing frantic kisses on any part of John he can reach - ear, shoulder, neck.
Fumbling for a moment, John kicks off his own pants before pressing close to Dean again, wrapping an arm around his waist and grinding their hips together. His free hand tangles in Dean's hair and he tugs his head back sharply, biting at his throat before dragging him into another deep and needy kiss.
Dean gasps into his mouth and arches his back, the act of rubbing against John pushing his boxers down farther. He sucks at John's tongue eagerly, before realizing that he is nearly out of control of his own actions; the solider kicks in and he tries to regain it, forcing himself to slow down.
Which is exactly what John wants to do; push Dean beyond his control, watch him fall apart under John's hands and mouth. He shoves Dean's boxers down and slides both hands onto his ass, biting, then licking over his lower lip.
Dean clenches his hands into fists on John's back, shivering from the effort to stay calm. He kisses John's lips, a gentle response to his teeth, nearly sweating just from the effort of keeping his hips still.
He's tempted to give him permission to let go, to moan and move all he wants. But it's amazing to see him like this, so obediant, just waiting for John to say the right word. Willing to accept anything John has to give him. He lets the kiss soften a little, becoming a simple movement of lips, nearly tender, were it not for the hunger just bellow the surface.
The tenderness, real or imagined, gives Dean something to hang onto; it is the core of what he really wants from this, besides the pure physical pleasure of it all: he wants to feel that coming from John, like it never does anywhere else. He slips his arms up to curl around his neck, keeping him there for a moment.
... ah. That's a little different than John had been accepting. But he allows it, stroking his fingers through Dean's hair and holding him close as they kiss. It's almost too intimate, too frightening to be doing this with Dean. It's easier to excuse if it's something closer to violence.
Dean relaxes in his arms, obediant now not just because the solider in him demands it, but because he wants to be, surrendering because it means he gets this in return, if only for a brief moment. He parts his lips, willing to to let John take over again.
He sighs and breaks the kiss only to push his boxers off, diving immediately back into it with the same gentle eagerness. The way Dean's kissing him scares him a little, how gentle it is. Loving. John sighs and licks gently over Dean's lips, nudging his tongue between them for a moment, but not trying to deepen the kiss at all.
Dean nips at his tongue, the gesture almost playful. He stretches his hands down John's back, fingers rubbing over his shoulderblades and onward to the small of his back. He feels more like they are on even ground now, which is an odd feeling in and of itself.
John gives a soft laugh, shifting their hips together and gently kisses the corner of his mouth. It's nice, to slow down like this. To be able to take your time, just.... touching and kissing. Exploring each other slowly.
Dean moans softly, cutting off the grin he was beginning in John's direction. His fingers move along John's back as if they have no idea what to do with themselves, just touching anything within reach.
John shifts to slide a hand between Dean's thighs, teasing his fingers lightly against him, suggesting the idea of what could come next, if Dean's ready for it. He doesn't quite expect him to be, which is... reluctantly alright with John. If he pushes too hard too fast, Dean could break; fooling around with kissing and touching is one thing, fucking is completely different.
Dean's next breath comes sharply; he looks up into John's face, searching his eyes. He takes another breath, a deep one, fingers digging into John's back the slightest bit. He waits, not moving, not sure what is going to happen next or if he is going to care for it at all, but having to trust John.
"Do you want it?" he asks, his voice nearly a whisper as he studies Dean's eyes for hesitation. Any sign that he'd back out. "Do you want this with me?"
Dean looks down, chewing on the inside of his cheek. He had not really thought this far ahead, when he asked for this. But- he guessed it was the logical next step, and - if he wanted this to happen again, if he wanted to have John- there was no saying no. He lifted his eyes again, steeling himself. "Yes, sir."
He'll go slow, try and be gentle. John kisses Dean softly, lingering for a moment before he pulls away to grab a lotion he'd snagged from the previous hotel. He stretches out on top of Dean again, trying to distract him with a kiss while he slicks his fingers up, sliding his hand between Dean's thighs again.
Dean tries to focus on the kiss as well, returning it fiercely, not wanting to think about what is just about to happen. He forces his legs apart for him, trying not to tense up too much. John will take care of him, it could not hurt any more than a belt to the back-
"I've got you," he murmurs against his lips, wrapping an arm around Dean's waist as he slowly starts working a finger into him. God -- it's been ages since he's done anything like this, and the thought of doing it with Dean... He kisses Dean again, deeper this time, trying to drive any thoughts from his head.
That comforts Dean more than John could know. He returns the kiss passionately; it is always easier to deal with pain when the adrenaline starts to pump. God, it does hurt, but it sends strange shivers through him; he feels like he is being invaded, and that he should struggle, resist, except that it is John- he's started calling him that in his head, claiming that much for himself - and it felt utterly right to have him doing this.
John strokes his hair gently as they kiss, moving his hand slowly against him. He wants this to be good for Dean; this, this should feel good. This shouldn't hurt, John doesn't want to hurt Dean like this. He Dean protests, he'll stop.
Dean begins to relax as soon as he realizes that everything is manageable; and that makes everything hurt less, his body adjusting to the idea. He moans suddenly as John's finger finds a tender spot, surprising himself. He squirms in response, pressing down against his hand.
There -- John presses against that spot again, rubbing harder, pressing kisses to his shoulder with a low groan. He moves his hand a little faster, wanting to get Dean to moan like that again. Kissing over his neck leaves Dean's mouth free to gasp and moan -- beg, if he wants to.
Dean makes a soft whine in his throat, leaning his head back as John kisses down his neck. It feels good, oh-so-good, and he wants more, but he does not know how to ask except to grind down against him, nails digging into his arms.
Another finger, faster this time, his kisses turning more frantic as he works his way over Dean's jaw and back up to his lips. He could keep going like this, keep slowly pushing Dean to the edge until he falls, but he wants him too badly.
Dean kisses him deeply, pulling him flush against him. The next finger hurts like the first, except now it is drowned in the feeling of pleasure and just adds to it, causing him to mouth small sounds to John's lips.
"Dean," he moans into the kiss, curling his fingers slightly, bracing his free hand against the bed to support himself. It's almost too much; the little noises, the way Dean arches into him so deliciously. He's going out of his head and he can't stop it, nor does he want to.
The movement of John's fingers causes him to cry out, trying to squirm any which way, wanting more and overwhelmed by the feeling at the same time. "Sir-" he gasps, pushing his hips up to rub against his, and whimpering when he manages that burst of pleasure.
He almost falls apart himself, that one word wrapped in Dean's desperate voice sending a shock of arousal through him. He takes his hand away to slick himself up, kissing Dean deeply as he pushes into him as slowly as he can manage. His fingers twist in the sheets, his other hand gripping the back of Dean's thigh.
Dean balls his hands into fists, unable to even make a sound as John slides into him; he turns his face to the side to gasp for air, wanting to pant his name but too breathless to manage it. He feels dirty, completely owned now that John is inside him, totally, unrevocably deep, and it just makes him want more. He bites his lip, not allowing himself the luxury of moving.
OhGod Dean is his, completely and totally, and John's overwhelmed by the feeling of being so utterly wrapped up in Dean. He presses his face against Dean's neck, biting down on his lip as he tries to catch his breath. Slowly, he moves his hips back, then forward again, burying himself as deeply inside Dean as he can. And he rests there for a moment, his arms wrapped tightly around Dean, holding him close.
Dean is about ready to burst, drowning in the sensations of John. He manages to hold himself together enugh to brush a kiss to John's temple as he is being held, whispering a soft "Sir," in his ear, followed by a "sir, please-" He wants to give him more before he cannot move anymore, to be totally, completely his for a bit longer.
"Dammit boy -- " he hisses before kissing him hard, grinding his hips against him. It isn't a reprimand for Dean so much as it is for himself; he shouldn't let that get to him so much, but that word slithers down his spine and crawls under his skin, driving him crazy. He braces a hand against the bed again, keeping an arm around Dean's waist as he starts to thrust against him, pulling back from the kiss to watch Dean's face as he moves.
Dean whimpers, eyes closed and lips parted, a flush of exertion staining his cheeks. He does not even respond to John's words, pulling himself against him as he thrusts, leaving fingermarks along his back. "Yespleasethat-"
John kisses him fiercely, for as long as he can before he has to break away to breathe. It feels so good -- it feels beyond good to be this close to Dean, this connected to him. This in control of him. He rocks his hips hard and fast against him, wanting to give Dean as much as he wants. As much as he needs.
Dean cannot keep in control of himself any longer; he throws his head back in a cry, every muscle tensing, tightening around John. A tremor runs through his body, but he cannot seem to stop, pushing up against John again and again until everything gives out at once.
John's fingers dig into his back, his body tensing and shuddering as he follows shortly behind Dean, giving a low moan of his own. As he tries to calm down and catch his breath, he brushes a few soft kisses along Dean's jaw and in his hair. He has no idea what to say, so he settles for pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.
Dean tilts his head back to catch John in a small, sloppy kiss, ignoring the fact that his lungs are burning for air. He then leans his head back against the bed, allowing himself to breathe and look up at him, limp beneath him.
"Are you alright...?" he murmurs, stroking his fingers over Dean's cheek and watching him closely, wanting to make sure he didn't hurt him at all. Gently, he shifts to lie against him, not wanting to leave the warmth of his body just yet.
Dean nods, reaching up to touch his fingers to the back of John's hand. "Yeah...was it- okay?" he asks, glancing up with the slightest tinge of nervousness.
"Yeah," he laughs, breathlessly, kissing him softly. "It was... much more than okay." The gentle touch is reassuring; it means that Dean isn't angry at him for doing this, though he might feel guilty for it, later.