Imagine Request: There are sexual tensions between you and Dean in a bar one night after a guy you two are suspecting gives you a hungry look.
- Warnings: SEXUAL; fingering in public. Cursing.
- 896 words
- Dean x Reader
“Calm down, Winchester.” You roll your eyes and take a sip of your martini. “He won’t be getting in these pants.”
Dean was steaming, glaring down one of the suspects of the murder case you two have been on all week. “I don’t like the way he’s been looking at you.”
You look over at him and his hardly touched beer. “Cool it. Let’s just go over there and talk to him. He’s the only one we haven’t questioned.”
“No. You aren’t gong near him.” Dean broke his stare to look down at you. His eyebrows were formed together and the corners of his mouth were turned down in distaste. “Not with those clothes on.”
“Then pretend we’re a thing.” You grow impatient with the silly man. It was clear that he was having problems with the attention you were getting from all these other men lately, but this was getting ridiculous. “Touch my knee or something.”
“He’s a guy, Y/N. He won’t care about that.”
You grab hold on his wrist and pull him closer to you. “Dean, we need to talk to him. Do something.”
“Shit…” Dean had moved his gaze back to the suspect. “He’s coming over.”
Without doing much thinking, you unzip your jeans and place Dean’s fingers just above the waistband. His fingertips drummed against your skin, making you squirm. You drag his fingers down until they’re on the inside of your jeans, making you almost glad you ran out of underwear that day.
Dean didn’t waste a beat. His fingers went to work like he knew exactly what you wanted, even when you didn’t entirely know yourself.
You had to bite your lip to keep any sounds hidden inside, biting it so hard you were sure it would start to bleed. Dean was a natural, and of course he was, he was Dean fucking Winchester. His touch was like magic, rubbing you until he was satisfied with your wet self, slipping two fingers in, then three.
You doubled over as he tried to get his fingers deeper, pumping in and out as fast as he could without causing too much of a scene. For a second, you forgotten you were in a bar, leaning against the counter where people were eating. All you could care about right now was how Dean’s cool hand felt.
“Shhh.” Dean whispers when you opened your mouth to let out a squeak.
The suspect was only a few feet away when he saw what was happening. Your eyes locked with his for a moment and you couldn’t care. His face became expressionless as he turns to walk back to his table with his friends.
There went your chance at questioning him, but that didn’t matter at the moment.
You expected Dean to stop. The job was done, he scared away the man that had been spotting you for hours now. However, Dean didn’t want to stop. You look up and see his face, how he was smirking triumphantly. His eyes travel down to you, then to his hand that was still moving inside your pants. He suddenly had this hungry look to his eyes, a need.
Dean swiftly moves in front of you, pinning you to the bar with his chest, leaving his pelvis inches from yours to give him room to move his fingers. His lips quivered and his eyes droop shut as a fourth finger moves inside you. You feel your knees shaking and you doubt you can stand much longer.
He removes his fingers for a split second, making you think he was finally done, but that wasn’t the case. He stuck three of them back inside, grunting along as he pumped them in and out.
You squirm under him, only making him move faster and adding another finger into the mix. You lift your leg off the ground and he holds it up with his free hand, giving him more room to move around inside.
“We have to go.” He mutters against your hair. You only just realize that he’s about to bust out of his own jeans. “Now.” He growls.
Dean grins at you. “Come on, babe. Once more.”
“We’re on a case! Shush.” You groan and cross your legs, trying to keep Dean out of your pants. It doesn’t exactly work, he tries to slip inside them anyway.
“I know how to make you squirm.” He smirks. “I want to try again.”
“I said no!” You shake your head but you don’t deny his hand slipping inside your jeans, playing with your lips. In fact, you slowly let your legs open again and sit back in the booth of the diner. “Dean,” you whine.
“No whining. No sounds, just enjoy.” Dean leans over and kisses just above your ear as his index and middle finger spread you and allow access to his thumb. He slides it inside, caressing the walls to get you wet, which he never had any problem doing.
You close your eyes and grab his wrist, letting it work. He sticks his fingers inside you, moving them around instead of moving them in and out. He’s playing with you, teasing you. He smirks as you jump a little as he moves them in deeper, sending a shiver down your spine.
He bites down on his lip to hide his excitement. This is his new favorite game.