[ It's one of her gifts. She's never been shy or reticent about something - or someone - she wanted, therefore her characteristic bluntness might be a bit shocking to some folks. But with Dean, there was no question or awkwardness; they both knew what they wanted and weren't hesitant about saying so.
One of the things which kept her coming back, to be honest. ]
That was a fun weekend, wasn't it? We'll have to do that again, and soon. I hope your baby wasn't too offended that we desecrated the leather [ several times ] like that.
You won't have to go too far, promise. This is just a small two-seater craft, about the size of a large pickup. Aerials show an abandoned warehouse not far from your motel, about three blocks and through a small copse of trees, that has an empty parking lot. I'll touch down there. What's your room number? Don't want to be knocking on the wrong door. ;)
[ She's more than imaginative for both of them, and no stranger to kinky sex and immodest as hell, and she likes to think Dean appreciates the filthy things they engage in whenever they meet up like this. ]
It's a surprise, naturally. Wouldn't you to start without me, after all. ...although the thought of you pulling on that big cock is a deliciously hot one, Winchester.
[ Dean's the last guy to be judging anyone for enjoying sex. Not that he hasn't been a massive hypocrite at times, but not when it comes to making assumptions based on what a person has going on in the bedroom. Everything is just so damn easy with Nat. She's beautiful, kinky as hell, and doesn't expect anything more out of him than he does of her. It just... works. ]
It's fine. Baby's been through a hell of a lot worse than some wear and tear on the interior.
[ And having sex in the backseat is practically a Winchester tradition at this point. ]
10. Not that you would have bad odds if you just picked one, this place is practically deserted. No surprise there since their ghosts were driving away the locals until we got here. Just a few clueless kids looking for haunted houses, as usual.
[ They got here before too many caught wind of it at least. ]
Let's just say I'm not going to finish without you. If you didn't want me hard then you shouldn't have told me all about what you wanted to do to me. I wasn't kidding when I said I would be ready for you.
I'm thinking you're gonna be just as ready for me to pound you into this door the second we've got it closed.
[ Uncomplicated. That's how she likes things. In both business and pleasure. And since the former is seldom ever "uncomplicated", she makes sure that the latter remains so as much as possible. Dean Winchester, to her, is a wonderfully uncomplicated man. ]
Kids don't seem to have better things to do than stir up shit they have no business getting involved in? Sad. [ She might have left a few to their consequences, just to make sure they got the point. Humanity's on a short road to a big hell, in her private opinion. ]
Ooh, you better not. Especially since I'm schlepping all this way just for you, baby. I do want you hard. I want you so hard it hurts, Dean. And maybe I want you to hurt a little bit before I get there, just for the fun of it. Especially since you know how it feels to have my mouth on you, right?
[ Dirty talk is one of her nasty pleasures, and she never has a qualm about sharing it, particularly with this particular lover. ]
I'm almost there, will be touching down in about five minutes. Keep your pants on for another ten, then you can pound me as hard as you want for as long as you want. Hopefully you don't have any "neighbors" this time.
[ Dean could tell her about all the kids he's run into, usually just dumb teenagers who thought it would be cool or edgy to drag their friends out to see a ghost. The lucky ones don't find anything. But that's a conversation for another time. He's got one thing on his mind now, and not even shop talk can distract him. ]
You bet I do. How could a guy ever forget a blowjob like that?
Well if that's what you wanted you got it, cause I've been hard ever since you said you were on your way, and believe me, it's not exactly comfortable at this point. And for the record I am still wearing pants, but that's all I had on to begin with, and you can be sure as hell I'm not putting any more on now.
[ But he definitely doesn't mind a little pain. They have that in common too. ]
If I do have any neighbors they can mind their own damn business. I spent the last three days busting my ass to deal with their ghost problem, they can at least cut me a break here.
[ They have been interrupted before, and it's not like they have trouble jumping right back into it, but still.
[ Save it for pillow talk. Or..."wherever-they-end-up-after" talk. Because it wasn't unusual for the two of them to come down from mind-blowing sex in some pretty far-fetched places. But like Dean, shop talk just wasn't on the forefront of her mind right now. ]
You'd better not, gorgeous. Else I might have to do it all over again, just so it sticks in the back of your brain. ;)
Don't worry, baby. We'll take care of those tight jeans in just a few minutes, I promise. Although I have to say they do make your ass look positively delicious, and you know it. I love digging my fingernails into it every time you fuck me, Dean. I really do.
[ The next missive arrives a few minutes later: ]
Well, if anyone does poke their nose where it doesn't belong, I'll try not to answer the door with a pistol aimed. But you know how much I despise interruptions, both professionally and personally.
Hold your breath, baby. I'm touching down now. Be there in ten, and I don't plan on knocking.
[ Dean hasn't exactly been suffering in his jeans, since he's here alone he didn't see any reason not to unzip them, but whereas usually he would be stroking himself too he knows that would be a bad idea. It wouldn't give him any real relief, and he last thing he needs is to be even more on edge for when she gets here. He's not one to
Managing to fasten them back up is tricky, but he figures she'll appreciate the effort. That and it's impossible to quiet the ever present suspicion that who he's expecting might not be the one to show up at the door. He worries less with Nat than other people, it would be a hell of a trick for a demon to impersonate her, but he knows better than to rule anything entirely out. Still, the gun goes within easy reach on the table next to the door rather than in his back pocket. He'll be there waiting for her.
He's indeed shirtless, and showered so that he smells faintly of aftershave rather than stale beer, though he didn't put too much effort into shaving this morning. It seemed like more trouble than it was worth. He's run his fingers through his hair instead of a comb, which had been good enough when he figured he was probably spending the day alone with the motel's one porn channel until his head stopped aching so much. Whether or not the hangover would discourage him from heading back to the bar again regardless was still up in the air.
Of course he quickly forgot about all that once she texted him back. ]
We shouldn't have any interruptions. People around here are pretty big on minding their own business.
[ Since we're more or less past texting, I'm gonna switch to prose just because it's easier, but feel free to use whatever format you like; I'm not a stickler for matching styles. ]
Touching down wasn't too much of a chore, especially since the aircraft was relatively small and the specified parking lot thankfully empty. All too ready to get the show on the road, so to speak, Natasha didn't waste too much time in powering down the engines, setting the reflective camouflage, and making absolutely sure she had everything she needed, at least for now. She didn't doubt they'd be coming back here for some reason, therefore she left her duffel and opted for just a few weapons, all easily hidden, even in this particular outfit.
While not the most risque clothing she owned, what she'd opted for was, nevertheless, more than a little shameless. Tight black skirt, short enough to just cover the tops of her thighs, loose white silk shirt unbuttoned over a tight scarlet camisole, and matte black heels with thin straps winding around her ankles. A matching set of black, lace and thin strings, completed the ensemble beneath, appropriately racy and nothing she was worried about losing.
They were always hard on clothes. And once their trysts began, neither of them really gave much thought to the passing of time. During their last little interlude, she'd missed three days before realizing that much time had even gone by. This time, she'd packed for five. Just in case.
With everything dark and locked down, Natasha set off towards Dean's motel, following the dimly lit map on her phone. While she didn't expect much trouble, there were, however, dangers around every corner, but it would be an idiot indeed to interfere with the redhead striding quite purposefully down the all-but-deserted streets. Nine minutes later, the door to Dean's motel room gave a small creak of warning as the latches slowly eased back, the knob turned, and revealed a smirking Natasha Romanova in the doorway, absently tucking her toolkit back into an unseen pocket, other hand propped brazenly on her hip.
"Howdy, cowboy," she drawled, laying the dialect on thick, the words sounding rough in her customary whiskeyed voice. "You miss me?"
Dean tossed his phone onto the table beside his gun as soon as he sent his last text, as he's learned better than to shove it into a pocket of a pair of jeans that are just going to get kicked off and promptly ignored for some time. He's right at the door as it swings open to reveal his very eagerly anticipated guest, and as usual for a second he's completely floored that she's standing in front of him looking like something straight out of his most indulgent fantasies. From those intense eyes, down to the curve of her chest, and hips, legs that seem to go on forever, and heels that would make a stripper jealous.
It was hard to believe that she was real at first, not some kind of monster just trying to lure him in with tempting illusions, and even after that it was still hard to believe that it wasn't some kind of vivid hallucination. He's mostly gotten over that by this point, or at least decided that he's not going to question it anymore.
It's not going to last long, good things never do, but that just makes him that much more determined to enjoy it while he can.
"You bet I did." The gravel in his own voice is a bit rougher than usual from the long nights he's been putting in lately, and she knows him well enough to hear the obvious lust in his tone. It's all the warning she's going to get before he's snaking an arm around her waist and pulling her inside. Just past the door isn't enough though, not when he wants her lithe form crushed up against his bare chest, against the hard line of his cock nearly unbearably restrained by his jeans, his mouth pressing to hers with a hunger that's as intense as it's ever been with her. He has missed her, and the few flings that he's casually picked up since the last time didn't do anything except make him want this that much more.
Pushing the door closed is more of an incidental side effect of shoving her back against it, pinning her there between the sturdy wood behind her and the hard muscles in front of her, and his free hand is already sliding up her thigh and pushing her skirt up on one side in the process. It's far more purposeful than the fumbling of a man with less experience, he know exactly what he wants to touch and explore of what little is hidden by fabric. There's a lot more than that to properly appreciate when it comes to Natasha, but for now satisfying the almost feral lust burning through his veins is a higher priority.
Natasha wasn't too surprised to find Dean literally standing in the door; she fully imagined him having an ear pressed to the wall listening for the jet's engines as she flew over the town a few minutes ago. The rasp in his own voice, however, had things low in her stomach writhing in delicious anticipation, and it was all she could manage not to just throw him down in the doorway and get things going right then and there, but watching his eyes as they slid down her body, hot and promissory, was worth the restraint.
Then he was hauling her into the dingy little room, and this time she didn't hesitate to throw her arms around him and meet his mouth with her own eager hunger, whimpering into the messy press of lips and teeth and tongues. Whimpers became throaty, lustful moans, however, when the familiar taste of him hit her, and Natasha carefully bit Dean's lower lip just before he shoved her up against the door, teeth nipping a bit sharply as her back met the unforgiving wood.
But she chuckled into their heated groping, more than willing to lift that bare thigh and hike it over his hip, encouraging his touch even more. Thank God he was shirtless, else she might have shredded the irksome fabric in her haste to press her palms to his skin, rubbing corded muscles beneath the warm velvet. Her hips bucked against his, another sinful moan pulled out of her to feel him hard and thick between her thighs, and she managed to snake one hand between them to squeeze that bulging denim, more than a little rough.
Thinly covered breasts crushed against Dean's bare chest, nipples peaked and hard behind the restrictive lace and silks. Thank God she'd opted for the skimpiest panties she'd owned; the scrap of lace was already soaked and useless. Her hand between them traded fondling his cock in exchange for jerking at the button of his jeans, more than willing to free her impatient prize.
The sharp catch of her teeth only encourages Dean to do the same, his attention too split to devote his attention purely to her lips or to the slide of his tongue against hers, not so subtly mirroring what he wants to do with his cock. It's the fingers that grip that aching, hard length in his pants that break the kiss for a low, rumbling growl. It's all about anticipation rather than even a hint of disapproval, because he thoroughly appreciates her teasing even when it's painful. Even so, if she didn't immediately turn toward relieving his restraint he would have done so himself.all too eager to feel her, and any fabric in between them is an unnecessary barrier at the moment, no matter how hot she may look in it.
The sounds she makes alone would have been enough to have him abandoning any sense of restraint, but he had no intention of drawing this one out anyway. Still, they seem to trickle through him like an electric current, making his cock throb and his skin feel even warmer as his fingers find what they were searching for - an edge of lace and silky smooth fabric easily torn or pushed aside. Sometimes he has to marvel at just how quickly she's picked up on what turns him on and really gets his blood running hot, because this entire ensemble is exactly what he likes. Right down to the barely there undergarments.
It doesn't take him long to slip down to where those sexy panties are soaked through and through, and that draws another low, appreciative groan from him just as eager as the one from the sudden relief of being freed from the confines of his jeans. His touch doesn't stop there of course, not when it's all too easy to yank them aside to slide his fingers against the silk warmth underneath, brushing purposely up against her clit as he rolls his hips, both to rub the tip of his cock against her and to work his jeans down past his hips. He's not even going to bother trying to get them all the way off, just far enough out of the way for his immediate needs.
"You must have missed me too," he rumbles against her lips, giving them one last catch of his own teeth before he's dipping his head to pay some attention to her throat instead. There's a lot of skin he needs to kiss and bite and touch, but only so much of it he can reach for now.
There's just something about a hard, desperate fuck against a door - or a wall, or a table, or whatever surface that happens to be available - without even fully disrobing that completely undoes him. It's far from the only way he likes it, obviously, but it's a hell of a start.
The combination of releasing his throbbing cock from his jeans coupled with those very skilled fingers delving deep between her thighs had Natasha biting her own lip to keep from moaning like an overeager whore, but she couldn't stop the wanton buck of her hips, shoulders pressing hard against the door for extra leverage. They were rutting shamelessly against each other by now; Dean's jeans crumpled just below his ass, and her skirt bunched up around her waist, wrinkled camisole revealing only a strip of pale skin around her torso.
She had to gasp a breath to chuckle at his ear, tipping her head to give him more flushed, hot skin to molest with lips, tongue, and teeth. "...like crazy," was her husky response, dropping her forehead to his shoulder and taking a mouthful of dusky skin between her own teeth, not to bite, but to grip. Teeth raked, and Natasha mewled piteously when those thick fingers delved deep, her body trying to drag them even further inside.
"...God," she panted harshly, wanting to just fuck herself on his fingers, "c'mon, baby, I don't want to wait any longer...get that hard cock where it belongs..." Flexible as she was, it was a simple chore for the redhead to hitch both of those strong legs around Dean's lean hips, knees clamping him tightly in her hot, wicked web.
Neither of them has breathed a word about their sex lives have changed outside of these interludes, the unspoken implication obviously being that nothing has really changed whether that's true or not, but Dean would be lying his ass off if he tried to say that he's not pleased that Natasha misses him this much. That apparently no one else is hitting all her buttons the way he does, so that she is this eager to keep coming back to him whenever they can squeeze in some private time between them. Of course he can't rule out the possibility that it's just been that way for him, but he's sure as hell not going to ask.There are a few ways to ruin something good like this, and over-analyzing it is one of them.
His breath exhales hot against her neck, both at the feel of her underneath his fingers and how it translates into a tension that ripples through her. It's a nice idea, fucking her with his fingers and paying particular attention to all the spots that make her moan and whimper, but that's one he'll file away for later. Clothes have been shoved aside, she's as wet and eager as she's ever been, and whatever shred of control he was hanging onto is definitely gone by the time she twists her legs around his waist.
He's more than ready for the shift., his hands shifting back to grip the back of her thighs for that extra bit of leverage as he rocks his hips forward, slow only for a brief moment until the tip of his cock slides to just the right spot.He knows it when he feels it, and no sooner than the tip eases inside of her he's thrusting up into her with enough force to pin her to the door. This isn't a moment for teasing, not when she wants every inch of him and he's just as eager to fully bury himself in that tantalizing slick heat. It's unbelievably perfect, and if he had any less experience at this he would have trouble lasting longer than a fumbling, impatient teenager.
Whatever reply he was planning on is utterly lost in the groan the immediately follows, rough with pleasure and the anticipation of even more, but he won't linger in it too long before he starts to roll his hips, as slow as he can manage given the circumstances.
"Been thinking about that too, haven't you?" His voice is deceptively low and even despite the obvious heat in it, and how it's accentuated with rougher grunts. He's not as loud as he could be, but that restraint is only for the sake of missing fewer of her noises. That's also the only thing keeping him from reclaiming her mouth with his own, but he won't be able to resist that for too much longer.
Yes, she had definitely missed this. Not hardly a stranger to sex - her bed partners ran the gauntlet of varied, she was a woman of healthy appetites and sometimes strange preferences - Natasha Romanova had never been shy about obtaining what she wanted. And she had realized quite early on that she had found quite the rare prize in one Dean Winchester. Tall, sexy, with gentle eyes and an easy smile, as well as a borderline nasty sense of humor and a big heart beneath that scruffy exterior, and not even close to being shy when it came to woman or wants therein. Sometimes she believed she couldn't have found anyone more perfect if she'd punched her selections into a computer and waited for it to form the result.
That wasn't to say that their "relationship", as it was, tended to be all sunshine and light. She was a complicated woman, not overly equipped with a moral compass, and a rather bluntly pragmatic view of life and business and everything in between, and she and the Winchesters had butted heads more than a few times. Nevertheless, she and Dean were always able to come back around to this: the hot slide of his body into hers, panting themselves breathless as they strained against each other in some cheap backwater motel.
More than ready, Natasha couldn't swallow the low, guttural moan of pure pleasure when Dean sank inside her, her head falling back against the door with a muted thump. She whined his name, hitching her legs higher and tighter, the better to clench him hard and firm on every maddeningly deep stroke. He always filled her perfectly, their lower bodies moving together in perfect tandem. Her fingernails gripped his shoulders, and she bit at her lips to keep from keening as that rough voice smoked over her senses, and Dean's hips began to shallowly snap her up and down.
She had the beginnings of a witty quip to give right back to him, but a particularly deep and rough stroke of his thick cock evaporated the words right off of her tongue; a muted mewl answered him in response. Her thigh muscles flexed, rippled around his waist, and she tightened more every time he jolted her upwards against the door, it beginning to rattle in its frame.
As many women as Dean's had sex with, very few have ever come close to the sheer strength and flexibility that Natasha has, and while he hasn't forgotten that, it still hits him every time she's wound herself around him like this, so tight that he doesn't really have to hold onto her at all to keep her in an ideal position. He could fuck her even without the leverage of the door behind her if he really wanted to, but while that would be interesting he's not in a mood to deny either of them the almost feral sort of pleasure that comes with rutting against that hard, unforgiving surface.
She's more than tough enough to take it, and every muffled noise of helpless ecstasy and sharp sting of her nails digging into his skin encourages him to give her more. Faster, harder, deeper. He has to roll his hips just so along with his thrusts to give her everything he's got, and he's had enough practice doing it that he can keep doing it for as long as his endurance will hold out. Which isn't going to be impressively long in this case, but his pride isn't at stake here like it was the first time.
In any case, his pride is more consistently staked on making sure that his partner is enjoying sex as much as he is, another facet which she's had time to become intimately familiar with.
The next one will be slower, but this is too hard and intense to last too long. His cock was aching before she got to the door, and every time he slams that hard, thick length into her he's steadily building toward a release that promises to be as good as anything they've had before. He's already close to just barely hanging on, not that he has any intention of slowing down now.
"Don't hold it back, baby," he breathes next to her ear, knowing fully well what his coarse tone does to her. As arousing as it is to see her try to keep it all in it's even more satisfying to watch her let go. "I wanna hear you come."
Rare was it that Natasha Romanova ever had the chance to simply let it all go. Her job required brutal pragmatism, an almost cold-blooded professionalism, and an almost perfectly contrived poker face, not only to make the decisions that more often than not needed to be made but also to keep her sanity tightly intact. Restraint had become somewhat of a lifestyle, rather than a career choice.
But with Dean Winchester, there was no need for restraint of any sort; indeed, the wilder they were, the better they were together. And with him fucking her up and down against the rickety door, plunging in and out of her like a man possessed, Natasha knew that there'd be no holding back. Not this time, at least.
Her ankles crossed at the small of his back, fingernails digging into corded muscle in his upper arms, the redhead bucked her hips back into his as much as she possibly could, gasping breathlessly each and every time he rammed back inside her. And she wanted more. But this first time was going to be fast, hard, and brutal, and she eagerly met him thrust for thrust, determined to pull him along with her to that sharp, high peak.
Tight as a noose around his cock, clenching him mercilessly as he ruthlessly gave her exactly what she wanted, Natasha shuddered as that voice of pure sin rolled over her ears straight down to her loins, and that was all it took. Her thigh muscles locked around Dean's waist, her back arched into a perfect bow, and she trembled in his arms, gasping his name in a broken tone, snapping her hips sharp and fast against him and her body locked down hard, squeezing and milking the turgid flesh deep inside.
It seemed to go on forever; her nails raked over his shoulders and she lunged forward to kiss him sloppily, desperately, but Natasha kept him trapped inside her as she quaked, whimpering and moaning into his mouth, surreptitiously begging for more.
As big as Dean was on letting his vices run rampant, there's always some level of repression at work in most cases, even though that was so deeply instinctive that he barely noticed it when offered pleasant distractions. Natasha knows at least a few of his ugly truths, and not unexpectedly it allows him to go farther with her than he's done with anyone before. Even with the rare exceptions where sex was more than a mindless release for him and whatever girl he'd fallen into bed with. He tended to hold back even more with the ones he cared about too deeply, but Natasha breaks the mold in more ways than one. Definitely more ways than he's thought about too much even over long hours on the road with only Sam's snoring and his music to keep him company.
It's easy not to think about the details when this just works.
He's aware, as he pounds her against the door with enough force that anyone close to the room would undoubtedly hear those regular thumps against the hard surface, that his own release won't be too far behind hers. It's always been difficult to resist when her body tenses and wraps around him, squeezing him, with every whimper and moan and shudder begging for him to finish it. And Dean doesn't have the slightest hesitation about snapping his hips to hers just as tight, working her name into a groan as his cock pulses deep inside her, filling her with the hot come that she obviously wants so badly. It feels amazing, all waves of pleasure and release that wash over him while their bodies are tightly entwined in the throes of it all.
Her lips are on his before he entirely realizes what she's doing, as he's more caught up in what's going on down there, but he's quickly eager to lay claim to her mouth as well, muffling more noises of his own into it. He always takes his time with this part, savoring it and allowing her to do the same. He won't be pulling out of her or even thinking about moving away from the wall until he's too soft to easily stay inside her. He definitely likes those moments after he's finally thoroughly spent but still deep inside her, their hips still locked tightly together.
"Worth the trip, right?" He murmurs eventually against her jaw, his tone practically emanating satisfaction.
God, it seemed to take her ages to come down. As slow of a process as it was, descending from that blissful coital zenith, Natasha gradually became aware of a heartbeat other than hers - it was still galloping like a Thoroughbred, Jesus Christ - and slowly opened her eyes to see a familiar face so very close to hers. Recognition prompted her to grin somewhat lazily, still tingling all over from their wild encounter.
The first of many, God, she hoped.
Dean was still plastered against her, nestled firm between her thighs, but then she hadn't really allowed him to go too far, at that. Her legs were still locked around his waist, and her arms wrapped around his shoulders, as if afraid he might vanish were she to relax her grip. Everything from her waist down throbbed pleasantly, and a minute shift between him and the door brought a soft gasp from kiss-bruised lips, as she felt him shift deep within her.
Hearing his quip brought out a slow, exhaled chuckle, and Natasha lolled her head to again take his mouth in a long, languid kiss, gently sucking on his bottom lip before pulling away entirely. Green eyes were dark, liquid, but still carried enough naughty mirth for her to quip right back, "Still not sure." Her lips slanted wryly. "Ask me in the morning, lover."
Dean makes a muffled, pleased noise into the kiss before she pulls back from it, and once again his gaze is drawn to those deep green eyes not too dissimilar from his own. He likes the gleam he sees in them, still hazy from their brief but intense exertion but still as feisty as ever. It was going to take a lot more than that to truly satisfy her, which is more than fine with him. He's got time, and he hasn't gotten laid since the last time she was here, which feels like ages ago now.
His own smirk fades with a quiet sigh of his own when he's finally obligated to slide out of her, though he won't let go of her thighs until she's balanced her weight back onto those ridiculously high heels she's still wearing. He's pretty sure that they've dug sharp little marks into his back to go along with the equally sharp scratches where her nails have dug into his shoulders, but he's got no complaints about that either. He likes it when she's rough, and that kind of pain barely registers for him anymore.
"I like the outfit, by the way." He's far more interested in sliding it off of her, one piece at a time, starting with sliding the shirt off of her shoulders and then working his fingers underneath the tight camisole beneath, than he is in immediately dragging her toward the bed. They'll get there, though he'll probably need to finish sliding out of his own jeans first. "What would you call this, classy stripper?"
There's some teasing to it, but it's not as if Dean's ever tried to hide his appreciation for that aesthetic.
Natasha did well to keep from whining when Dean slipped out of her, but bit her lower lip in protest anyway. Still, she did need to regain her own two feet, although she had to keep a solid grip on equally solid arms for a few moments when she did, just to keep from sliding to the floor in a heap.
But once she was steady again, Natasha made some minute adjustments - a bathroom trip was in order shortly - cocking an eyebrow as Dean perfunctorily pushed her overshirt off of her shoulders, and she let it fall, smirking as those talented hands worked themselves beneath the rest of her layers.
"Thank you," she replied in an arch little tone. "I dressed with you in mind." She took the liberty to press her palms to his own chest, dragging them slowly down over corded muscle beneath warm skin. "I have to admit I prefer this particular look on you, too." Bare-chested, jeans hanging open, short hair tousled, that "just-fucked" gleam in those lovely eyes...yes, she liked it very much.
"Hmm...I suppose you could call it that," she agreed with a slight nod, more interested in dragging the flat of her tongue along the ridge of Dean's collarbone before slowly kissing her way downward to suck and fondle a tight dark nipple. She paused, glancing up to smirk, "Although I should have worn my thigh-boots if I was really going to 'work the pole', though."
Dean expected the bra to match the underwear, and he's far from disappointed. It's enough of a sight that he pauses for a moment in his efforts to relieve Natasha of her clothes, his fingers working along one lacy edge around the curve of her breast. A lazy smirk curves his lips at both her consideration and her compliment, one that mellows into an expression of appreciation as she turns her own attention to his chest, a soft grunt emphasizing his opinion on the matter as those lips close around his nipple. Of the many advantages of continuing an affair with one particular woman, one of the best has got to be the fact that she knows where all his sensitive spots are.
And she knows that he has a taste for this look, made even better by how ruffled and partially undone as it is now. She's every bit of a hot mess after what he's done to her, and there's nothing better than a hot mess that he's made. It definitely won't be too long before he's ready to go another round at this rate.
"Mmm, you're welcome to work my pole in whatever shoes you want, baby." He's teasing a little, but there's still a seductive purr to his voice. He's not wasting any more time in slipping his hands behind her, catching onto the clasps holding her bra in place. It only takes a few seconds for him to deftly unhook them with well-practiced ease, and though his view is partially obscured he likes the way her breasts bounce as they're freed from the restraint. It's enough to distract him from working on the skirt, because he doesn't wait to wait that long to get his hands on them, fingers cupping around those outer curves while his thumbs stroke across her nipples.
"So, should I wait for you in bed or should I catch you at the bathroom sink?"
It hasn't escaped his notice that there's a nice big mirror in front of that sink, and he does like to watch her as he fucks her from behind.
Dean's teasing little purr tickled Natasha's humor and she allowed a brief giggle to escape, lifting her arms slightly for him to skin her bra off and away. Then she put her lips back on his skin, nipping little kisses scattered here and there, but rewarded him with a throaty moan when his thumbs piqued her nipples.
Wanting more of that calloused, rough touch, Natasha lifted her head and draped her arms over Dean's shoulders, letting her back arch to rub her breasts against his chest and press firm, eager flesh into his hands. Coaxing his head down, she gave him a deep, promissory kiss, licking her way into his mouth with sinful abandon.
Coming back up for air, the redhead leaned back just enough to slither a hand down between their flushed bodies to unashamedly fondle Dean's cock, slim fingers working his length with unerring promise. "How's this?" she purred at his mouth, tip of her tongue delicately tracing the curve of his upper lip.
Then she pulled away - although she ignored the wanton whine of her body at the loss of contact with his - and gave the hunter a little shove, enough to step around him and make her slow deliberate way towards the room's bathroom, taking care to sway her hips beneath the short fall of her skirt, long scarlet curls tumbling down her bare back.
"Five minutes, lover," she told him over a bare shoulder, hand on the door jamb. Flicking on the light, she had to take a breath at the impressive size of that mirror, and just how sturdy that sink actually looked. Natasha smirked, already a little breathless with anticipation.
"We really should keep working on that hangover, shouldn't we?"
No matter how many times Natasha has pressed her lithe form up against him, soft and willing against his more calloused skin, he can't imagine ever feeling anything less than a thrill at it. Of course even if that alone wasn't enough to push his buttons, she tips her head back up toward him with obvious intent, and he's quick to oblige her by hunching down to close the distance between them. The warm, pliant and utterly shameless way she moved her lips and tongue against his own is a perfect complement to the handfuls of equally tantalizing flesh under his fingers. It's a promise fulfilled of slower, sensual touches that always tend to follow after the intense, harsher ones that come from impatient hunger that builds all too quickly when they're apart.
She's rewarded with a quiet groan for the deft fingers working along the length of his cock, soft flesh there already well on its way toward hardening. There's a noticeable twitch of that at the attention she's lavishing on him, followed by a swell that's enough to give it more.of the erect arch that she's become so familiar with. It remains even when she pushes him back to move past him, especially when he's given that view as she goes. The sway of her hips alone would be enough to give any man deliciously dirty thoughts.
"That's the idea," he eventually rasps in response, sliding wet tongue across his abruptly dry lips as she fires another smouldering gaze at him over her shoulder. It's only once she's fully moved into the bathroom that he'll turn his attention toward properly freeing himself from his jeans. And while he's giving her a few minutes of relative privacy he'll pick up a clean towel from the back of a chair where he tossed it the night before, using it to wipe himself off a bit in the meantime.
It's deeply ingrained habit that has him checking his phone in those few minutes too. It's never on silent, especially not when Sam isn't with him, but he knows just how critical even a missed text can be, and as reluctant as he would be to cut this short, duty sometimes calls. Thankfully that's not the case today.
When he does move toward the bathroom he's completely naked aside from the towel, which he casually tosses toward a corner as he reaches the door, and his cock is fully hard and erect. But while he could more or less ambush her, there's something to be said for giving her the full view of his muscular figure leaning against the doorway, aroused and eager for more.
"You indecent?" He asks with a smirk as he peers in. He's not too worried about her not being ready for him - when Natasha says five minutes, that's exactly what she means.
Her own personal ablutions took only a few short minutes; she was as practical in this as she was in everything else. She decided to leave her skirt on, as she knew how much Dean loved to hold on to it, that and handfuls of her long hair, whenever he worked her from behind. And damn, but just the memory of that particular little endeavor had her shuddering from crown to heel in a mix of blissful reminiscence and eager anticipation.
But she did peel off the useless panties, kicking them aside almost disdainfully. The heels she kept, since being a good head shorter than her lover was, at times, cumbersome. So after cleaning up a bit, tousling her hair back into artful disarray, she leaned against the counter, gazing at her reflection in the large mirror, and was nonchalantly reapplying her lipstick when Dean appeared in the doorway, skirt hitched just high enough to reveal the curve of her ass, thighs parted just enough to tease.
Green eyes met his in the mirror, and she smirked, capping the small tube. "Always, baby," she tossed back over her shoulder, along with two long red curls. Natasha licked her lips as she let her eyes wander, taking in every defined inch of that thick, toned body, loving how lost she always became in it. One eyebrow arched lightly.
"You know, sometimes it's not even fair, how gorgeous you are, Dean Winchester." Red lips curved in a contrived pout. "Makes a poor girl forget herself every now and then."
Dean was expecting a view and he's far from disappointed. He's already made his intentions very clear, and that's all the inspiration Nat needs to put on a tempting display that caters to those ideas perfectly. That easy sensuality has never ceased to amaze him, and as appreciative as she is of him he's not sure that anything he does measures up to her own efforts. But what he does do obviously gets her into the same mood. Of course he can't see the way he looks at her, with hunger and excitement burning in that smouldering gaze, unspoken promises lingering in every confident step and accompanying flex of muscle.
"You're one to talk."
He won't remain in the doorway for too long, instead moving to cross the distance between them as soon as the words are out of his mouth.
He could, and has gone straight to bending her over the counter, but now that they've taken that first, desperate edge off he's more inclined to taking it a little slower than that. Calloused hands settle briefly on her shoulders, almost teasing with the placement before they're sliding down her back and then across, working along the line of the skirt still hugging her hips. By the time his hands come to a rest on her stomach he's pulling her back against him, his cock settling against her ass, letting her feel it there rather than immediately offering a grind along with it. It all feels good to him, both her supple body and soft waves of hair pressed against him.
His fingers keep moving though, heading right back to the curve of her breasts, not only to feel those soft curves in on his hands again, but also to pull her back into his chest so that he can pepper kisses and bites at the join between her neck and shoulder.
"If I'm unfair, you're unbelievable." The murmured words pause as he pays some similar attention to her ear for a brief moment. "I thought you had to be too good to be true until I got my hands on you."
To be fair, Natasha almost expected to be shoved over the counter and immediately assaulted by the hard body now settling so very nicely behind hers, nor would she have minded in the slightest. But this was nice also; Dean's work-roughened hands settling on her shoulders gently, only to slide almost reverently down her body and across her skin, leaving soft shivers in the wake of those blunt but oh-so-skilled fingertips.
She wasn't too surprised to feel him thick and hard against her backside, however; it seldom took very long for her handsome hunter to recover, regardless of how intense their previous session had been. Nor had she ever minded "helping" that along, either with her own hands or her lips - she aimed to please, either way. But he hadn't needed any extra incentive this time, she noted, slowly easing back to settle flush against his front, instinctively easing astride the hot length situated firmly between her thighs.
Dean cupped her breasts and Natasha moaned softly, letting her head fall back against his shoulder and lifting her arms to wind around his neck, tilting slightly to offer more heated skin for his teeth and lips. She always enjoyed his tactile attention; as ferocious as they could be with each other - more often than not, really - these slow caresses and gentle teasings always served to soften the icy rings around her heart in more ways than one. He knew how to play her body like a fine instrument, and it always responded ardently, eagerly, to the rhythm he set.
The words murmured at her ear prompted a slight grin and a brief chuckle, and Natasha turned her head to graze her lips along the line of Dean's jaw, nuzzling beneath to run her tongue over the slightly scruffy cord of his neck. "Oh, really? You certainly were direct about it, I have to admit." But then, she'd appreciated that. Dancing around what one really wanted was for amateurs, or blushing ingenues who didn't have to fight every single day to survive.
Natasha began to slowly rock back and forth against her handsome hunter, a slight wiggle to entice and tease. One of her hands slid back to thread through his short hair, the other she wound behind his waist to cup the curve of his ass. "I think that's what finally sold me on you, Winchester."
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maskirovka) wrote2018-04-08 02:44 pm
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One of the things which kept her coming back, to be honest. ]
That was a fun weekend, wasn't it? We'll have to do that again, and soon. I hope your baby wasn't too offended that we desecrated the leather [ several times ] like that.
You won't have to go too far, promise. This is just a small two-seater craft, about the size of a large pickup. Aerials show an abandoned warehouse not far from your motel, about three blocks and through a small copse of trees, that has an empty parking lot. I'll touch down there. What's your room number? Don't want to be knocking on the wrong door. ;)
[ She's more than imaginative for both of them, and no stranger to kinky sex and immodest as hell, and she likes to think Dean appreciates the filthy things they engage in whenever they meet up like this. ]
It's a surprise, naturally. Wouldn't you to start without me, after all. ...although the thought of you pulling on that big cock is a deliciously hot one, Winchester.
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It's fine. Baby's been through a hell of a lot worse than some wear and tear on the interior.
[ And having sex in the backseat is practically a Winchester tradition at this point. ]
10. Not that you would have bad odds if you just picked one, this place is practically deserted. No surprise there since their ghosts were driving away the locals until we got here. Just a few clueless kids looking for haunted houses, as usual.
[ They got here before too many caught wind of it at least. ]
Let's just say I'm not going to finish without you. If you didn't want me hard then you shouldn't have told me all about what you wanted to do to me. I wasn't kidding when I said I would be ready for you.
I'm thinking you're gonna be just as ready for me to pound you into this door the second we've got it closed.
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Kids don't seem to have better things to do than stir up shit they have no business getting involved in? Sad. [ She might have left a few to their consequences, just to make sure they got the point. Humanity's on a short road to a big hell, in her private opinion. ]
Ooh, you better not. Especially since I'm schlepping all this way just for you, baby. I do want you hard. I want you so hard it hurts, Dean. And maybe I want you to hurt a little bit before I get there, just for the fun of it. Especially since you know how it feels to have my mouth on you, right?
[ Dirty talk is one of her nasty pleasures, and she never has a qualm about sharing it, particularly with this particular lover. ]
I'm almost there, will be touching down in about five minutes. Keep your pants on for another ten, then you can pound me as hard as you want for as long as you want. Hopefully you don't have any "neighbors" this time.
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You bet I do. How could a guy ever forget a blowjob like that?
Well if that's what you wanted you got it, cause I've been hard ever since you said you were on your way, and believe me, it's not exactly comfortable at this point. And for the record I am still wearing pants, but that's all I had on to begin with, and you can be sure as hell I'm not putting any more on now.
[ But he definitely doesn't mind a little pain. They have that in common too. ]
If I do have any neighbors they can mind their own damn business. I spent the last three days busting my ass to deal with their ghost problem, they can at least cut me a break here.
[ They have been interrupted before, and it's not like they have trouble jumping right back into it, but still.
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You'd better not, gorgeous. Else I might have to do it all over again, just so it sticks in the back of your brain. ;)
Don't worry, baby. We'll take care of those tight jeans in just a few minutes, I promise. Although I have to say they do make your ass look positively delicious, and you know it. I love digging my fingernails into it every time you fuck me, Dean. I really do.
[ The next missive arrives a few minutes later: ]
Well, if anyone does poke their nose where it doesn't belong, I'll try not to answer the door with a pistol aimed. But you know how much I despise interruptions, both professionally and personally.
Hold your breath, baby. I'm touching down now. Be there in ten, and I don't plan on knocking.
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Managing to fasten them back up is tricky, but he figures she'll appreciate the effort. That and it's impossible to quiet the ever present suspicion that who he's expecting might not be the one to show up at the door. He worries less with Nat than other people, it would be a hell of a trick for a demon to impersonate her, but he knows better than to rule anything entirely out. Still, the gun goes within easy reach on the table next to the door rather than in his back pocket. He'll be there waiting for her.
He's indeed shirtless, and showered so that he smells faintly of aftershave rather than stale beer, though he didn't put too much effort into shaving this morning. It seemed like more trouble than it was worth. He's run his fingers through his hair instead of a comb, which had been good enough when he figured he was probably spending the day alone with the motel's one porn channel until his head stopped aching so much. Whether or not the hangover would discourage him from heading back to the bar again regardless was still up in the air.
Of course he quickly forgot about all that once she texted him back. ]
We shouldn't have any interruptions. People around here are pretty big on minding their own business.
I'm ready for you, babe.
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Touching down wasn't too much of a chore, especially since the aircraft was relatively small and the specified parking lot thankfully empty. All too ready to get the show on the road, so to speak, Natasha didn't waste too much time in powering down the engines, setting the reflective camouflage, and making absolutely sure she had everything she needed, at least for now. She didn't doubt they'd be coming back here for some reason, therefore she left her duffel and opted for just a few weapons, all easily hidden, even in this particular outfit.
While not the most risque clothing she owned, what she'd opted for was, nevertheless, more than a little shameless. Tight black skirt, short enough to just cover the tops of her thighs, loose white silk shirt unbuttoned over a tight scarlet camisole, and matte black heels with thin straps winding around her ankles. A matching set of black, lace and thin strings, completed the ensemble beneath, appropriately racy and nothing she was worried about losing.
They were always hard on clothes. And once their trysts began, neither of them really gave much thought to the passing of time. During their last little interlude, she'd missed three days before realizing that much time had even gone by. This time, she'd packed for five. Just in case.
With everything dark and locked down, Natasha set off towards Dean's motel, following the dimly lit map on her phone. While she didn't expect much trouble, there were, however, dangers around every corner, but it would be an idiot indeed to interfere with the redhead striding quite purposefully down the all-but-deserted streets. Nine minutes later, the door to Dean's motel room gave a small creak of warning as the latches slowly eased back, the knob turned, and revealed a smirking Natasha Romanova in the doorway, absently tucking her toolkit back into an unseen pocket, other hand propped brazenly on her hip.
"Howdy, cowboy," she drawled, laying the dialect on thick, the words sounding rough in her customary whiskeyed voice. "You miss me?"
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It was hard to believe that she was real at first, not some kind of monster just trying to lure him in with tempting illusions, and even after that it was still hard to believe that it wasn't some kind of vivid hallucination. He's mostly gotten over that by this point, or at least decided that he's not going to question it anymore.
It's not going to last long, good things never do, but that just makes him that much more determined to enjoy it while he can.
"You bet I did." The gravel in his own voice is a bit rougher than usual from the long nights he's been putting in lately, and she knows him well enough to hear the obvious lust in his tone. It's all the warning she's going to get before he's snaking an arm around her waist and pulling her inside. Just past the door isn't enough though, not when he wants her lithe form crushed up against his bare chest, against the hard line of his cock nearly unbearably restrained by his jeans, his mouth pressing to hers with a hunger that's as intense as it's ever been with her. He has missed her, and the few flings that he's casually picked up since the last time didn't do anything except make him want this that much more.
Pushing the door closed is more of an incidental side effect of shoving her back against it, pinning her there between the sturdy wood behind her and the hard muscles in front of her, and his free hand is already sliding up her thigh and pushing her skirt up on one side in the process. It's far more purposeful than the fumbling of a man with less experience, he know exactly what he wants to touch and explore of what little is hidden by fabric. There's a lot more than that to properly appreciate when it comes to Natasha, but for now satisfying the almost feral lust burning through his veins is a higher priority.
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Then he was hauling her into the dingy little room, and this time she didn't hesitate to throw her arms around him and meet his mouth with her own eager hunger, whimpering into the messy press of lips and teeth and tongues. Whimpers became throaty, lustful moans, however, when the familiar taste of him hit her, and Natasha carefully bit Dean's lower lip just before he shoved her up against the door, teeth nipping a bit sharply as her back met the unforgiving wood.
But she chuckled into their heated groping, more than willing to lift that bare thigh and hike it over his hip, encouraging his touch even more. Thank God he was shirtless, else she might have shredded the irksome fabric in her haste to press her palms to his skin, rubbing corded muscles beneath the warm velvet. Her hips bucked against his, another sinful moan pulled out of her to feel him hard and thick between her thighs, and she managed to snake one hand between them to squeeze that bulging denim, more than a little rough.
Thinly covered breasts crushed against Dean's bare chest, nipples peaked and hard behind the restrictive lace and silks. Thank God she'd opted for the skimpiest panties she'd owned; the scrap of lace was already soaked and useless. Her hand between them traded fondling his cock in exchange for jerking at the button of his jeans, more than willing to free her impatient prize.
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The sounds she makes alone would have been enough to have him abandoning any sense of restraint, but he had no intention of drawing this one out anyway. Still, they seem to trickle through him like an electric current, making his cock throb and his skin feel even warmer as his fingers find what they were searching for - an edge of lace and silky smooth fabric easily torn or pushed aside. Sometimes he has to marvel at just how quickly she's picked up on what turns him on and really gets his blood running hot, because this entire ensemble is exactly what he likes. Right down to the barely there undergarments.
It doesn't take him long to slip down to where those sexy panties are soaked through and through, and that draws another low, appreciative groan from him just as eager as the one from the sudden relief of being freed from the confines of his jeans. His touch doesn't stop there of course, not when it's all too easy to yank them aside to slide his fingers against the silk warmth underneath, brushing purposely up against her clit as he rolls his hips, both to rub the tip of his cock against her and to work his jeans down past his hips. He's not even going to bother trying to get them all the way off, just far enough out of the way for his immediate needs.
"You must have missed me too," he rumbles against her lips, giving them one last catch of his own teeth before he's dipping his head to pay some attention to her throat instead. There's a lot of skin he needs to kiss and bite and touch, but only so much of it he can reach for now.
There's just something about a hard, desperate fuck against a door - or a wall, or a table, or whatever surface that happens to be available - without even fully disrobing that completely undoes him. It's far from the only way he likes it, obviously, but it's a hell of a start.
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She had to gasp a breath to chuckle at his ear, tipping her head to give him more flushed, hot skin to molest with lips, tongue, and teeth. "...like crazy," was her husky response, dropping her forehead to his shoulder and taking a mouthful of dusky skin between her own teeth, not to bite, but to grip. Teeth raked, and Natasha mewled piteously when those thick fingers delved deep, her body trying to drag them even further inside.
"...God," she panted harshly, wanting to just fuck herself on his fingers, "c'mon, baby, I don't want to wait any longer...get that hard cock where it belongs..." Flexible as she was, it was a simple chore for the redhead to hitch both of those strong legs around Dean's lean hips, knees clamping him tightly in her hot, wicked web.
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His breath exhales hot against her neck, both at the feel of her underneath his fingers and how it translates into a tension that ripples through her. It's a nice idea, fucking her with his fingers and paying particular attention to all the spots that make her moan and whimper, but that's one he'll file away for later. Clothes have been shoved aside, she's as wet and eager as she's ever been, and whatever shred of control he was hanging onto is definitely gone by the time she twists her legs around his waist.
He's more than ready for the shift., his hands shifting back to grip the back of her thighs for that extra bit of leverage as he rocks his hips forward, slow only for a brief moment until the tip of his cock slides to just the right spot.He knows it when he feels it, and no sooner than the tip eases inside of her he's thrusting up into her with enough force to pin her to the door. This isn't a moment for teasing, not when she wants every inch of him and he's just as eager to fully bury himself in that tantalizing slick heat. It's unbelievably perfect, and if he had any less experience at this he would have trouble lasting longer than a fumbling, impatient teenager.
Whatever reply he was planning on is utterly lost in the groan the immediately follows, rough with pleasure and the anticipation of even more, but he won't linger in it too long before he starts to roll his hips, as slow as he can manage given the circumstances.
"Been thinking about that too, haven't you?" His voice is deceptively low and even despite the obvious heat in it, and how it's accentuated with rougher grunts. He's not as loud as he could be, but that restraint is only for the sake of missing fewer of her noises. That's also the only thing keeping him from reclaiming her mouth with his own, but he won't be able to resist that for too much longer.
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That wasn't to say that their "relationship", as it was, tended to be all sunshine and light. She was a complicated woman, not overly equipped with a moral compass, and a rather bluntly pragmatic view of life and business and everything in between, and she and the Winchesters had butted heads more than a few times. Nevertheless, she and Dean were always able to come back around to this: the hot slide of his body into hers, panting themselves breathless as they strained against each other in some cheap backwater motel.
More than ready, Natasha couldn't swallow the low, guttural moan of pure pleasure when Dean sank inside her, her head falling back against the door with a muted thump. She whined his name, hitching her legs higher and tighter, the better to clench him hard and firm on every maddeningly deep stroke. He always filled her perfectly, their lower bodies moving together in perfect tandem. Her fingernails gripped his shoulders, and she bit at her lips to keep from keening as that rough voice smoked over her senses, and Dean's hips began to shallowly snap her up and down.
She had the beginnings of a witty quip to give right back to him, but a particularly deep and rough stroke of his thick cock evaporated the words right off of her tongue; a muted mewl answered him in response. Her thigh muscles flexed, rippled around his waist, and she tightened more every time he jolted her upwards against the door, it beginning to rattle in its frame.
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She's more than tough enough to take it, and every muffled noise of helpless ecstasy and sharp sting of her nails digging into his skin encourages him to give her more. Faster, harder, deeper. He has to roll his hips just so along with his thrusts to give her everything he's got, and he's had enough practice doing it that he can keep doing it for as long as his endurance will hold out. Which isn't going to be impressively long in this case, but his pride isn't at stake here like it was the first time.
In any case, his pride is more consistently staked on making sure that his partner is enjoying sex as much as he is, another facet which she's had time to become intimately familiar with.
The next one will be slower, but this is too hard and intense to last too long. His cock was aching before she got to the door, and every time he slams that hard, thick length into her he's steadily building toward a release that promises to be as good as anything they've had before. He's already close to just barely hanging on, not that he has any intention of slowing down now.
"Don't hold it back, baby," he breathes next to her ear, knowing fully well what his coarse tone does to her. As arousing as it is to see her try to keep it all in it's even more satisfying to watch her let go. "I wanna hear you come."
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But with Dean Winchester, there was no need for restraint of any sort; indeed, the wilder they were, the better they were together. And with him fucking her up and down against the rickety door, plunging in and out of her like a man possessed, Natasha knew that there'd be no holding back. Not this time, at least.
Her ankles crossed at the small of his back, fingernails digging into corded muscle in his upper arms, the redhead bucked her hips back into his as much as she possibly could, gasping breathlessly each and every time he rammed back inside her. And she wanted more. But this first time was going to be fast, hard, and brutal, and she eagerly met him thrust for thrust, determined to pull him along with her to that sharp, high peak.
Tight as a noose around his cock, clenching him mercilessly as he ruthlessly gave her exactly what she wanted, Natasha shuddered as that voice of pure sin rolled over her ears straight down to her loins, and that was all it took. Her thigh muscles locked around Dean's waist, her back arched into a perfect bow, and she trembled in his arms, gasping his name in a broken tone, snapping her hips sharp and fast against him and her body locked down hard, squeezing and milking the turgid flesh deep inside.
It seemed to go on forever; her nails raked over his shoulders and she lunged forward to kiss him sloppily, desperately, but Natasha kept him trapped inside her as she quaked, whimpering and moaning into his mouth, surreptitiously begging for more.
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It's easy not to think about the details when this just works.
He's aware, as he pounds her against the door with enough force that anyone close to the room would undoubtedly hear those regular thumps against the hard surface, that his own release won't be too far behind hers. It's always been difficult to resist when her body tenses and wraps around him, squeezing him, with every whimper and moan and shudder begging for him to finish it. And Dean doesn't have the slightest hesitation about snapping his hips to hers just as tight, working her name into a groan as his cock pulses deep inside her, filling her with the hot come that she obviously wants so badly. It feels amazing, all waves of pleasure and release that wash over him while their bodies are tightly entwined in the throes of it all.
Her lips are on his before he entirely realizes what she's doing, as he's more caught up in what's going on down there, but he's quickly eager to lay claim to her mouth as well, muffling more noises of his own into it. He always takes his time with this part, savoring it and allowing her to do the same. He won't be pulling out of her or even thinking about moving away from the wall until he's too soft to easily stay inside her. He definitely likes those moments after he's finally thoroughly spent but still deep inside her, their hips still locked tightly together.
"Worth the trip, right?" He murmurs eventually against her jaw, his tone practically emanating satisfaction.
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The first of many, God, she hoped.
Dean was still plastered against her, nestled firm between her thighs, but then she hadn't really allowed him to go too far, at that. Her legs were still locked around his waist, and her arms wrapped around his shoulders, as if afraid he might vanish were she to relax her grip. Everything from her waist down throbbed pleasantly, and a minute shift between him and the door brought a soft gasp from kiss-bruised lips, as she felt him shift deep within her.
Hearing his quip brought out a slow, exhaled chuckle, and Natasha lolled her head to again take his mouth in a long, languid kiss, gently sucking on his bottom lip before pulling away entirely. Green eyes were dark, liquid, but still carried enough naughty mirth for her to quip right back, "Still not sure." Her lips slanted wryly. "Ask me in the morning, lover."
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Dean makes a muffled, pleased noise into the kiss before she pulls back from it, and once again his gaze is drawn to those deep green eyes not too dissimilar from his own. He likes the gleam he sees in them, still hazy from their brief but intense exertion but still as feisty as ever. It was going to take a lot more than that to truly satisfy her, which is more than fine with him. He's got time, and he hasn't gotten laid since the last time she was here, which feels like ages ago now.
His own smirk fades with a quiet sigh of his own when he's finally obligated to slide out of her, though he won't let go of her thighs until she's balanced her weight back onto those ridiculously high heels she's still wearing. He's pretty sure that they've dug sharp little marks into his back to go along with the equally sharp scratches where her nails have dug into his shoulders, but he's got no complaints about that either. He likes it when she's rough, and that kind of pain barely registers for him anymore.
"I like the outfit, by the way." He's far more interested in sliding it off of her, one piece at a time, starting with sliding the shirt off of her shoulders and then working his fingers underneath the tight camisole beneath, than he is in immediately dragging her toward the bed. They'll get there, though he'll probably need to finish sliding out of his own jeans first. "What would you call this, classy stripper?"
There's some teasing to it, but it's not as if Dean's ever tried to hide his appreciation for that aesthetic.
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But once she was steady again, Natasha made some minute adjustments - a bathroom trip was in order shortly - cocking an eyebrow as Dean perfunctorily pushed her overshirt off of her shoulders, and she let it fall, smirking as those talented hands worked themselves beneath the rest of her layers.
"Thank you," she replied in an arch little tone. "I dressed with you in mind." She took the liberty to press her palms to his own chest, dragging them slowly down over corded muscle beneath warm skin. "I have to admit I prefer this particular look on you, too." Bare-chested, jeans hanging open, short hair tousled, that "just-fucked" gleam in those lovely eyes...yes, she liked it very much.
"Hmm...I suppose you could call it that," she agreed with a slight nod, more interested in dragging the flat of her tongue along the ridge of Dean's collarbone before slowly kissing her way downward to suck and fondle a tight dark nipple. She paused, glancing up to smirk, "Although I should have worn my thigh-boots if I was really going to 'work the pole', though."
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And she knows that he has a taste for this look, made even better by how ruffled and partially undone as it is now. She's every bit of a hot mess after what he's done to her, and there's nothing better than a hot mess that he's made. It definitely won't be too long before he's ready to go another round at this rate.
"Mmm, you're welcome to work my pole in whatever shoes you want, baby." He's teasing a little, but there's still a seductive purr to his voice. He's not wasting any more time in slipping his hands behind her, catching onto the clasps holding her bra in place. It only takes a few seconds for him to deftly unhook them with well-practiced ease, and though his view is partially obscured he likes the way her breasts bounce as they're freed from the restraint. It's enough to distract him from working on the skirt, because he doesn't wait to wait that long to get his hands on them, fingers cupping around those outer curves while his thumbs stroke across her nipples.
"So, should I wait for you in bed or should I catch you at the bathroom sink?"
It hasn't escaped his notice that there's a nice big mirror in front of that sink, and he does like to watch her as he fucks her from behind.
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Wanting more of that calloused, rough touch, Natasha lifted her head and draped her arms over Dean's shoulders, letting her back arch to rub her breasts against his chest and press firm, eager flesh into his hands. Coaxing his head down, she gave him a deep, promissory kiss, licking her way into his mouth with sinful abandon.
Coming back up for air, the redhead leaned back just enough to slither a hand down between their flushed bodies to unashamedly fondle Dean's cock, slim fingers working his length with unerring promise. "How's this?" she purred at his mouth, tip of her tongue delicately tracing the curve of his upper lip.
Then she pulled away - although she ignored the wanton whine of her body at the loss of contact with his - and gave the hunter a little shove, enough to step around him and make her slow deliberate way towards the room's bathroom, taking care to sway her hips beneath the short fall of her skirt, long scarlet curls tumbling down her bare back.
"Five minutes, lover," she told him over a bare shoulder, hand on the door jamb. Flicking on the light, she had to take a breath at the impressive size of that mirror, and just how sturdy that sink actually looked. Natasha smirked, already a little breathless with anticipation.
"We really should keep working on that hangover, shouldn't we?"
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She's rewarded with a quiet groan for the deft fingers working along the length of his cock, soft flesh there already well on its way toward hardening. There's a noticeable twitch of that at the attention she's lavishing on him, followed by a swell that's enough to give it more.of the erect arch that she's become so familiar with. It remains even when she pushes him back to move past him, especially when he's given that view as she goes. The sway of her hips alone would be enough to give any man deliciously dirty thoughts.
"That's the idea," he eventually rasps in response, sliding wet tongue across his abruptly dry lips as she fires another smouldering gaze at him over her shoulder. It's only once she's fully moved into the bathroom that he'll turn his attention toward properly freeing himself from his jeans. And while he's giving her a few minutes of relative privacy he'll pick up a clean towel from the back of a chair where he tossed it the night before, using it to wipe himself off a bit in the meantime.
It's deeply ingrained habit that has him checking his phone in those few minutes too. It's never on silent, especially not when Sam isn't with him, but he knows just how critical even a missed text can be, and as reluctant as he would be to cut this short, duty sometimes calls. Thankfully that's not the case today.
When he does move toward the bathroom he's completely naked aside from the towel, which he casually tosses toward a corner as he reaches the door, and his cock is fully hard and erect. But while he could more or less ambush her, there's something to be said for giving her the full view of his muscular figure leaning against the doorway, aroused and eager for more.
"You indecent?" He asks with a smirk as he peers in. He's not too worried about her not being ready for him - when Natasha says five minutes, that's exactly what she means.
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But she did peel off the useless panties, kicking them aside almost disdainfully. The heels she kept, since being a good head shorter than her lover was, at times, cumbersome. So after cleaning up a bit, tousling her hair back into artful disarray, she leaned against the counter, gazing at her reflection in the large mirror, and was nonchalantly reapplying her lipstick when Dean appeared in the doorway, skirt hitched just high enough to reveal the curve of her ass, thighs parted just enough to tease.
Green eyes met his in the mirror, and she smirked, capping the small tube. "Always, baby," she tossed back over her shoulder, along with two long red curls. Natasha licked her lips as she let her eyes wander, taking in every defined inch of that thick, toned body, loving how lost she always became in it. One eyebrow arched lightly.
"You know, sometimes it's not even fair, how gorgeous you are, Dean Winchester." Red lips curved in a contrived pout. "Makes a poor girl forget herself every now and then."
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"You're one to talk."
He won't remain in the doorway for too long, instead moving to cross the distance between them as soon as the words are out of his mouth.
He could, and has gone straight to bending her over the counter, but now that they've taken that first, desperate edge off he's more inclined to taking it a little slower than that. Calloused hands settle briefly on her shoulders, almost teasing with the placement before they're sliding down her back and then across, working along the line of the skirt still hugging her hips. By the time his hands come to a rest on her stomach he's pulling her back against him, his cock settling against her ass, letting her feel it there rather than immediately offering a grind along with it. It all feels good to him, both her supple body and soft waves of hair pressed against him.
His fingers keep moving though, heading right back to the curve of her breasts, not only to feel those soft curves in on his hands again, but also to pull her back into his chest so that he can pepper kisses and bites at the join between her neck and shoulder.
"If I'm unfair, you're unbelievable." The murmured words pause as he pays some similar attention to her ear for a brief moment. "I thought you had to be too good to be true until I got my hands on you."
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She wasn't too surprised to feel him thick and hard against her backside, however; it seldom took very long for her handsome hunter to recover, regardless of how intense their previous session had been. Nor had she ever minded "helping" that along, either with her own hands or her lips - she aimed to please, either way. But he hadn't needed any extra incentive this time, she noted, slowly easing back to settle flush against his front, instinctively easing astride the hot length situated firmly between her thighs.
Dean cupped her breasts and Natasha moaned softly, letting her head fall back against his shoulder and lifting her arms to wind around his neck, tilting slightly to offer more heated skin for his teeth and lips. She always enjoyed his tactile attention; as ferocious as they could be with each other - more often than not, really - these slow caresses and gentle teasings always served to soften the icy rings around her heart in more ways than one. He knew how to play her body like a fine instrument, and it always responded ardently, eagerly, to the rhythm he set.
The words murmured at her ear prompted a slight grin and a brief chuckle, and Natasha turned her head to graze her lips along the line of Dean's jaw, nuzzling beneath to run her tongue over the slightly scruffy cord of his neck. "Oh, really? You certainly were direct about it, I have to admit." But then, she'd appreciated that. Dancing around what one really wanted was for amateurs, or blushing ingenues who didn't have to fight every single day to survive.
Natasha began to slowly rock back and forth against her handsome hunter, a slight wiggle to entice and tease. One of her hands slid back to thread through his short hair, the other she wound behind his waist to cup the curve of his ass. "I think that's what finally sold me on you, Winchester."
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