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dugindeepA few weeks ago I asked for favors for 80s music and a ton of you delivered. It was awesome and I'm not regularly jamming to the music of my youth :-P In return I offered mini-fics and I'm sorry it's taken me so long to get to these, and in fact, I only have one done because life is still really hectic and I'm also working on two long fics for challenges/charity so everything is kinda lakjdflkjadlk
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innie_darling wanted something for this icon here.
Dean thought he was just having a beer. Thought he was sitting at a table waiting on Sam, who was taking far too long in the bathroom. Thought they were grabbing food and a cold one as reprieve from a long day hunting before they’d crash in the room for a few hours of sleep.
No. It wasn’t just that. Because before he knew it, Dean was surrounded, hands reaching and touching and groping. They were all attached to pretty faces: blonds, brunettes, redheads. He could see smiles for miles, some broad and bright, others small and secretive.
He chuckled to the attention and let himself touch back with hands swiping over shoulders and around hips.
“Ladies, ladies,” he chuckled with warmth. “There’s enough to go around.”
One leaned in, whispering in his ear, suggesting the things they could do before she lost him to the rest of the pack.
His eyebrow rose high and his eyes latched on to hers, reading the proposition clear in her look, and he smirked as he leaned closer to her.
Then another slipped to the other side, murmuring what she could do for him. His arm wound around her waist to pull her in, too.
The others kept touching, massaging his back, his shoulders, his neck. Dean surrendered to the feeling: heat spreading beneath his skin, muscles relaxing, joints like jelly.
He was broken from the moment with a swift smack to his foot. He shook in place, eyes wide to the hotel room ceiling before he found Sam at the foot of the bed.
Sam looked disgusted and smacked his foot again. “Dude, get up.”
Dean’s attention whipped to the bedside table, to a loud click and ding, and he saw the coinbox wired to the bed.
“You got a problem,” Sam muttered as he stalked to the bathroom.
With a roll of his eyes, Dean rested back to the pillows. He closed his eyes and blindly fumbled at the table, quarter between his thumb and finger, slotting the coin into the box.
Another loud click and the bed rumbled to life. Dean smirked and ignored Sam’s groan from the other room.
innie_darling wanted something for this icon here.Dean thought he was just having a beer. Thought he was sitting at a table waiting on Sam, who was taking far too long in the bathroom. Thought they were grabbing food and a cold one as reprieve from a long day hunting before they’d crash in the room for a few hours of sleep.
No. It wasn’t just that. Because before he knew it, Dean was surrounded, hands reaching and touching and groping. They were all attached to pretty faces: blonds, brunettes, redheads. He could see smiles for miles, some broad and bright, others small and secretive.
He chuckled to the attention and let himself touch back with hands swiping over shoulders and around hips.
“Ladies, ladies,” he chuckled with warmth. “There’s enough to go around.”
One leaned in, whispering in his ear, suggesting the things they could do before she lost him to the rest of the pack.
His eyebrow rose high and his eyes latched on to hers, reading the proposition clear in her look, and he smirked as he leaned closer to her.
Then another slipped to the other side, murmuring what she could do for him. His arm wound around her waist to pull her in, too.
The others kept touching, massaging his back, his shoulders, his neck. Dean surrendered to the feeling: heat spreading beneath his skin, muscles relaxing, joints like jelly.
He was broken from the moment with a swift smack to his foot. He shook in place, eyes wide to the hotel room ceiling before he found Sam at the foot of the bed.
Sam looked disgusted and smacked his foot again. “Dude, get up.”
Dean’s attention whipped to the bedside table, to a loud click and ding, and he saw the coinbox wired to the bed.
“You got a problem,” Sam muttered as he stalked to the bathroom.
With a roll of his eyes, Dean rested back to the pillows. He closed his eyes and blindly fumbled at the table, quarter between his thumb and finger, slotting the coin into the box.
Another loud click and the bed rumbled to life. Dean smirked and ignored Sam’s groan from the other room.
