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."
Dean's resolve to take this slower, teasing and caressing, is tested as she takes the opportunity to straddle his cock, and there's a noticeable twitch from it as he feels all that tempting heat settle around him. His resolve holds for now though, helped somewhat by just how attractively she responds to his touches, willingly and eagerly writhing to allow even more of them, and to get in a few of her own. It shows off some of her flexibility to twitch around enough to get her lips on his jawline and the accumulation of stubble there, and her hand on his ass, and he offers a low noise of pleasure before lifting one hand from her breast to tilts her head back just a little more, enough to give her a brief but heated kiss.
"I didn't think I would see you again," he admits, sliding his tongue over his own lips as he relinquishes hers, still tasting her on them. As he goes on his hand continues to drift downward, past her chest this time, trailing across her stomach and then even more boldly between her legs, his fingertips seeking out those most sensitive spots. It's an interesting sensation to feel her with his fingers while she sits astride rather than on his cock, and it'll get even better as he works her up until she's truly desperate for more of it. It's a goal that will be helped by a slow rock of his own hips against her. The friction is almost maddening for him, he can only imagine that it'll be even more so for her with his teasing. "If I had one chance, of course I was gonna take it."
It's not as if he's afraid of rejection. He's made countless passes at women over the years, with a complete range of reactions, so many that he never let himself get too invested in any one in particular. Natasha wasn't different in that regard, not at first. Now though, they've settled into a dynamic that's been far less common for him. It's good, amazing even, but at the same time it's less familiar territory, and it's harder not to care too much about whether or not she keeps answering his calls. He knows better than to get attached, and yet they keep ending up exactly like his.
He's amused at her reflection, though that won't stop him from turning the conversation toward more blatantly dirty talk.
"You sure this didn't have anything to do with that?" He asks, a mischievous note coloring his otherwise suggestive tone while he makes a pointed thrust of his hips, his cock rubbing more intimately against her. He still fully intends to follow through with what he suggested earlier of course, just not quite yet. He likes fingering her, though in this case it's an immediate prelude to much more.
Humor was always easy between them; they both had a blunt, brutal, cynical way of looking at the world. Granted, Dean still carried hope, while Natasha had long made peace with the fact that the world was going to blow hell wide open and she was okay with that. And both of them had made a silent pact to simply enjoy each other, rather than attempt to change either's point of view. It was just physical, this "thing" between them.
At least, that's what she kept telling herself, over and over and over.
She didn't "do" relationships. She didn't "hook up" with the same lovers more than twice. But for some strange reason, she never hesitated to respond whenever a familiar text message or voicemail (always from different numbers) arrived. And to his credit, the few times she'd initiated contact, Dean had never refused, usually arriving at their arranged destination first.
As if he were eager to see her again. That thought...did things, way down in Natasha's stomach. Things she stubbornly refused to face. But she could enjoy him now, and so she had and she would. He was worth taking the time to enjoy, to suffer over, and he always made sure to reciprocate, to ensure her pleasure before his own. A considerate lover.
A good man.
"You're good at - and bad about - taking chances, love," she murmured against his skin, feeling her body respond eagerly to his wandering hand, and she inhaled a swift breath as that hand slid between her legs, finding her still slick and hot. Her hips bucked gently, enticing him for more, and she kneaded her fingers in his tight cheek, humming a small moan as he rocked against her.
"Mmmmm, it might have." Her lips quirked in amusement, and she turned her gaze to watch them in the mirror, a soft flush coloring the tops of her breasts and smoothing upwards to her throat as he tantalized her so sinfully. One of her eyebrows went up, and she met his eyes even as one of hers shivered in a sly little wink. "It definitely makes arguing with you more exciting."
It's always a tug of war with himself before he picks up the phone to call Natasha up again, but not because he wants her any less. He hasn't told her that he never does this, not since Lisa, but he's got the impression that she understands just how unique this is for him. Some part of him wishes he had the will to turn her down, not for his sake but for hers, because no matter how good she is, everyone gets hit by the Winchester curse sooner or later if they stick around long enough. It's not your fault most of them would say, but it is. If he didn't stop allowing himself to have... well, anything.
So he'll take her somewhat double-edged compliment about taking chances without attempting to argue, and not least of all because of the attractive distraction she makes under his fingers and in the mirror. It's everything he could have hoped for. Her lithe body has always been impossibly attractive, and to see it squirm in pleasure and anticipation is even better. It would have been even more of a sight before their fast, hard fuck at the door, but he wouldn't have had the self-control to wait for that.
"I doubt you'd be coming back for more if it had been disappointing," he chuckles in return. rubbing his fingertips over her clit with a little more pressure. He could keep teasing her like this for a while, maybe even to the point of having her outright demanding more, but his mood is more toward something slow, intense and sensual. And to that end he slips his other hand down from toying with her nipple to her lower back, putting just enough pressure there to push her down toward the counter, not so roughly that she couldn't fight it, but still insistent. The rougher touches will come later, never more than she can handle, but he's learned all too well that he doesn't have to hold back for her.
"Cause I doubt you have any trouble bringing any man you want to bed with you." As she goes down her follows her somewhat for now, close enough that his voice is a seductive purr at her ear, his body arched over hers, his skin looking darker in comparison to how pale hers is in the light. "The hard part is finding someone who pushes your buttons just the right way, huh?"
He's pretty sure she runs into the same problems he does. He can find a pretty face almost anywhere, but a hot girl who's got as much stamina as he does, and can hold her own if something were to come crashing in on them? That's a hell of a lot harder to find.
Poking her nose into Dean's personal life just wasn't her style. She had better manners than that, and on the off point, it really wasn't her business, anyway. His life was just that: his life. She had her own, and if they chanced to cross now and again, Natasha was always willing to enjoy it, to the absolute fullest. She didn't doubt that there would come a day when one or both of them would drift apart, and she'd reconciled herself to that. There wasn't any "happy ending" for anyone in their profession.
Which was why they were more or less limited to these sorts of trysts; meeting in some backwater town in a rickety motel, indulging in each other while time allowed. Because there was no way to know what idiotic nasty might come crashing through the door - a fairly stupid one, given the caliber of what awaited it on the other side - and for once, Natasha didn't have to be the first one to pull a gun to hand. Yes, it was nice, indeed. Everyone said opposites attracted, but clearly they'd never experienced this sort of thing before.
Men like Dean Winchester were few, and very far between. And Natasha Romanoff - Natalia Romanova - had no trouble accepting him just as he was, bad decisions and all.
"Mmm, probably not," she agreed, letting her lashes drift closed and a soft breath hiss escape when thick fingers pressed a little harder between her thighs, sleek and wet. She might have consented to stand there all night while he toyed with her, but it wasn't too long before she felt Dean urging her forward, and a vulpine smirk curved her lips, but she acquiesced without protest, sinuously stretching as she did so.
Heels of her hands propping her on the counter, Natasha gave Dean a sly glance over one bare shoulder before dropping her head and bowing her back, hips wiggling in his hands, just enough to tease. "Not really," she remarked with a slight shrug, then added, "But you know how high my standards are, so..." She purred delight to feel him rubbing warm against her back, guttural voice sinfully silky at her ear. "I'm a complicated woman, Dean," she breathed back, turning her head for a heated kiss. "It takes a particular combination to light this fire."
And the damnable man was quite skilled at how to stoke those flames, too. Natasha pressed her hips back into his, rubbing his hard cock between slick, hot lips. Her thighs parted, invitingly, and she ran the tip of her tongue around her mouth, teasing, but there was very little coyness in her voice when she whispered, "C'mon, baby, fuck me. Now."
One of the things that Dean likes about Natasha is the fact that she's always quick to throw his teasing right back at him, obviously getting just as much pleasure from riling him up as he does from working her into a hot mess, and this particular position is that much more arousing because he has fucked her. He's as much to blame for that slick mess as she is, and while he feels quite a bit of satisfaction over that, somehow it makes him even more eager to take her again, stoking a heat within him that burns just as hot as it did the moment he met her at the door. She does this to him every time, because as good as he is at pushing her buttons, she seems to instinctively know how to hit all of his.
"I'm never going to get tired of hearing that."
Her eager insistence draws a growl out of him that's pure feral lust, one that's muffled momentarily by a kiss that he takes to just as hungrily. Occasionally he finds himself in a mood to draw the teasing out even more, if simply to hear what it does to her voice, but there's nothing quite like the sound of her just inhaling when he rolls his hips with one purpose in mind. It takes more skill to angle himself just right when she's so wet, but it's a challenge he's definitely up to, using both hands to pin her in place while the tip of his cock pushes up against her.
This time he does take it slower, giving himself time to feel her clenching around every inch of him as it sinks into her. One hand on her back slides upward along with that slow motion until his entire forearm is pinned across her back, fingers tangling into the soft, scarlet cascade of her hair, while his other hand remains on her hip, still gripping it tightly. He hardly needs anything else to keep her in place, not unless she bucks her hips into him, a movement that would only result in his grip tightening before he's even started to thrust.
His eyes flick briefly up to the mirror, just to be able to see her reaction even as he hears and feels it. It's far from the first time - and far from the last, he hopes - but it's the kind of moment that sticks very vividly in his mind, one that easily comes to him when he finds himself alone and in need of a release.
They could - and have, and often - spend hours teasing and tormenting each other until one or both of them were crazy with lust, burning with desire for each other. It wasn't at all uncommon for them to disappear into whatever hiding place they'd chosen, be it a motel room such as this one, and abandoned house somewhere in the woods, wherever, for as long as they could, days if possible, and indulge themselves in each other until necessity once again pulled them apart.
They knew each other so well, there wasn't any awkwardness or trepidation, just the slow burn of flesh to flesh, heart to heart, and an easy attraction that never seemed to diminish. Less so now, with Dean pushing her down on the counter and sliding thick and hard between her soaking thighs, making her bite at her lower lip with his tantalizing slowness, guaranteed to spiral her out of her mind with dizzying pleasure.
Natasha dropped her head and moaned, feeling him fill her again, her tight walls rippling down over his cock, pressing into her slow and deliberate, and her back arched invitingly as she rolled a tight nipple between her own fingers, tugging on the bud until the tiny pains mixed with the heavy pleasure settling deep in her loins. When he was fully seated inside her, she lifted her gaze to the mirror, green eyes already dark with lust, and met Dean's behind her, her lips parted and gently slack, tip of her tongue teasing the upper with obscene grace.
"...Dean..." she heard herself moan, flexing her thighs and squeezing him tight, aching for him to move, to thrust into her as hard and as deep as he desired.
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maskirovka) wrote2018-04-08 02:44 pm
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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."
no subject
"I didn't think I would see you again," he admits, sliding his tongue over his own lips as he relinquishes hers, still tasting her on them. As he goes on his hand continues to drift downward, past her chest this time, trailing across her stomach and then even more boldly between her legs, his fingertips seeking out those most sensitive spots. It's an interesting sensation to feel her with his fingers while she sits astride rather than on his cock, and it'll get even better as he works her up until she's truly desperate for more of it. It's a goal that will be helped by a slow rock of his own hips against her. The friction is almost maddening for him, he can only imagine that it'll be even more so for her with his teasing. "If I had one chance, of course I was gonna take it."
It's not as if he's afraid of rejection. He's made countless passes at women over the years, with a complete range of reactions, so many that he never let himself get too invested in any one in particular. Natasha wasn't different in that regard, not at first. Now though, they've settled into a dynamic that's been far less common for him. It's good, amazing even, but at the same time it's less familiar territory, and it's harder not to care too much about whether or not she keeps answering his calls. He knows better than to get attached, and yet they keep ending up exactly like his.
He's amused at her reflection, though that won't stop him from turning the conversation toward more blatantly dirty talk.
"You sure this didn't have anything to do with that?" He asks, a mischievous note coloring his otherwise suggestive tone while he makes a pointed thrust of his hips, his cock rubbing more intimately against her. He still fully intends to follow through with what he suggested earlier of course, just not quite yet. He likes fingering her, though in this case it's an immediate prelude to much more.
no subject
At least, that's what she kept telling herself, over and over and over.
She didn't "do" relationships. She didn't "hook up" with the same lovers more than twice. But for some strange reason, she never hesitated to respond whenever a familiar text message or voicemail (always from different numbers) arrived. And to his credit, the few times she'd initiated contact, Dean had never refused, usually arriving at their arranged destination first.
As if he were eager to see her again. That thought...did things, way down in Natasha's stomach. Things she stubbornly refused to face. But she could enjoy him now, and so she had and she would. He was worth taking the time to enjoy, to suffer over, and he always made sure to reciprocate, to ensure her pleasure before his own. A considerate lover.
A good man.
"You're good at - and bad about - taking chances, love," she murmured against his skin, feeling her body respond eagerly to his wandering hand, and she inhaled a swift breath as that hand slid between her legs, finding her still slick and hot. Her hips bucked gently, enticing him for more, and she kneaded her fingers in his tight cheek, humming a small moan as he rocked against her.
"Mmmmm, it might have." Her lips quirked in amusement, and she turned her gaze to watch them in the mirror, a soft flush coloring the tops of her breasts and smoothing upwards to her throat as he tantalized her so sinfully. One of her eyebrows went up, and she met his eyes even as one of hers shivered in a sly little wink. "It definitely makes arguing with you more exciting."
no subject
So he'll take her somewhat double-edged compliment about taking chances without attempting to argue, and not least of all because of the attractive distraction she makes under his fingers and in the mirror. It's everything he could have hoped for. Her lithe body has always been impossibly attractive, and to see it squirm in pleasure and anticipation is even better. It would have been even more of a sight before their fast, hard fuck at the door, but he wouldn't have had the self-control to wait for that.
"I doubt you'd be coming back for more if it had been disappointing," he chuckles in return. rubbing his fingertips over her clit with a little more pressure. He could keep teasing her like this for a while, maybe even to the point of having her outright demanding more, but his mood is more toward something slow, intense and sensual. And to that end he slips his other hand down from toying with her nipple to her lower back, putting just enough pressure there to push her down toward the counter, not so roughly that she couldn't fight it, but still insistent. The rougher touches will come later, never more than she can handle, but he's learned all too well that he doesn't have to hold back for her.
"Cause I doubt you have any trouble bringing any man you want to bed with you." As she goes down her follows her somewhat for now, close enough that his voice is a seductive purr at her ear, his body arched over hers, his skin looking darker in comparison to how pale hers is in the light. "The hard part is finding someone who pushes your buttons just the right way, huh?"
He's pretty sure she runs into the same problems he does. He can find a pretty face almost anywhere, but a hot girl who's got as much stamina as he does, and can hold her own if something were to come crashing in on them? That's a hell of a lot harder to find.
no subject
Which was why they were more or less limited to these sorts of trysts; meeting in some backwater town in a rickety motel, indulging in each other while time allowed. Because there was no way to know what idiotic nasty might come crashing through the door - a fairly stupid one, given the caliber of what awaited it on the other side - and for once, Natasha didn't have to be the first one to pull a gun to hand. Yes, it was nice, indeed. Everyone said opposites attracted, but clearly they'd never experienced this sort of thing before.
Men like Dean Winchester were few, and very far between. And Natasha Romanoff - Natalia Romanova - had no trouble accepting him just as he was, bad decisions and all.
"Mmm, probably not," she agreed, letting her lashes drift closed and a soft breath hiss escape when thick fingers pressed a little harder between her thighs, sleek and wet. She might have consented to stand there all night while he toyed with her, but it wasn't too long before she felt Dean urging her forward, and a vulpine smirk curved her lips, but she acquiesced without protest, sinuously stretching as she did so.
Heels of her hands propping her on the counter, Natasha gave Dean a sly glance over one bare shoulder before dropping her head and bowing her back, hips wiggling in his hands, just enough to tease. "Not really," she remarked with a slight shrug, then added, "But you know how high my standards are, so..." She purred delight to feel him rubbing warm against her back, guttural voice sinfully silky at her ear. "I'm a complicated woman, Dean," she breathed back, turning her head for a heated kiss. "It takes a particular combination to light this fire."
And the damnable man was quite skilled at how to stoke those flames, too. Natasha pressed her hips back into his, rubbing his hard cock between slick, hot lips. Her thighs parted, invitingly, and she ran the tip of her tongue around her mouth, teasing, but there was very little coyness in her voice when she whispered, "C'mon, baby, fuck me. Now."
no subject
"I'm never going to get tired of hearing that."
Her eager insistence draws a growl out of him that's pure feral lust, one that's muffled momentarily by a kiss that he takes to just as hungrily. Occasionally he finds himself in a mood to draw the teasing out even more, if simply to hear what it does to her voice, but there's nothing quite like the sound of her just inhaling when he rolls his hips with one purpose in mind. It takes more skill to angle himself just right when she's so wet, but it's a challenge he's definitely up to, using both hands to pin her in place while the tip of his cock pushes up against her.
This time he does take it slower, giving himself time to feel her clenching around every inch of him as it sinks into her. One hand on her back slides upward along with that slow motion until his entire forearm is pinned across her back, fingers tangling into the soft, scarlet cascade of her hair, while his other hand remains on her hip, still gripping it tightly. He hardly needs anything else to keep her in place, not unless she bucks her hips into him, a movement that would only result in his grip tightening before he's even started to thrust.
His eyes flick briefly up to the mirror, just to be able to see her reaction even as he hears and feels it. It's far from the first time - and far from the last, he hopes - but it's the kind of moment that sticks very vividly in his mind, one that easily comes to him when he finds himself alone and in need of a release.
no subject
They knew each other so well, there wasn't any awkwardness or trepidation, just the slow burn of flesh to flesh, heart to heart, and an easy attraction that never seemed to diminish. Less so now, with Dean pushing her down on the counter and sliding thick and hard between her soaking thighs, making her bite at her lower lip with his tantalizing slowness, guaranteed to spiral her out of her mind with dizzying pleasure.
Natasha dropped her head and moaned, feeling him fill her again, her tight walls rippling down over his cock, pressing into her slow and deliberate, and her back arched invitingly as she rolled a tight nipple between her own fingers, tugging on the bud until the tiny pains mixed with the heavy pleasure settling deep in her loins. When he was fully seated inside her, she lifted her gaze to the mirror, green eyes already dark with lust, and met Dean's behind her, her lips parted and gently slack, tip of her tongue teasing the upper with obscene grace.
"...Dean..." she heard herself moan, flexing her thighs and squeezing him tight, aching for him to move, to thrust into her as hard and as deep as he desired.