virtue, deanxrowena, 1.4K for @silver9mm, bby I want to be your dirty little teacup <3
Back straight. Chest out. Dean twists his wrists, squeezing his fingers shut in a fist, then letting them uncurl. Breathe in. Breathe out. Shifting his knees, the plastic laid out under him crinkles loudly. She pauses what she’s doing to look at him with a disapprovingly arched eyebrow. It’s as precise and well painted as the rest of her face.
Dean looks back down, and stills. Quiet.
There’s a rug underneath the plastic, bright red oriental pattern, well padded and he likes doing longer scenes where there’s good carpet instead of the hard wood of her playroom.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
It’s quiet except for the rattle of the teapot’s lid when it’s tipped. Small hands on a bone white china, red roses curling around the top and down the handle. Her nails are painted a soft, muted red that almost matches.
The solarium is flooded with sunlight through ceiling high windows, bushes lining the garden outside providing privacy. The afternoon sunlight glints off the perfectly curled fall of her long red hair, shining on the sequins of her midnight blue dress.
The plastic is loud when Dean shifts again. Chest out. Back straight. Arms folded behind him with hands clasped around forearms - except when he’s fidgeting - the rope harness wrapped around his chest pulls as he moves and Dean appreciates the presence of it. Soft, white rope.
“Hasn’t anyone told you patience is a virtue darling?”
Rowena looks down at him, fingers loosely splayed over the teacup, resting on its lip as they move back and forth, steam curling up in the sunny air.
Dean rolls his eyes, stills again. Quiet.
“Personally, I’m not one for virtue.”