Dean/Cassie nc17 outtake
So, my Women of Supernatural series is Gen. But this is Cassie and Dean we're talking about -- one of only two women he's actually been in a scene with. So I think I'm not straying too far from canon here!!
HET, obviously. Explicit. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDERAGE.
According to Show editor, Anthony Pinker, "The violence we don't get a lot of notes on" but for "Route 666" "... The note I got from the network was 'The girl can't be on top.'" !?!
"There's Venus," Dean said, pointing "the wishing star. You wanna make a wish?"
Cassie must've forgiven him pretty well by now, considering she just finished off her beer, slid off the trunk, and pulled him by hand behind her, into the back seat.
***
Dean would never forget how beautiful she was as she laid him back on the seat, took off his clothes, and hers, and climbed on top of him. Dean took a lot of pride in knowing how to please a woman, and if Cassie liked to be the one in charge, he was more than willing to go along with it.
She kissed him possessively and he opened up for her, moaning in pleasure as she lightly rubbed herself against him. Her fingers found his nipples, and she laughed when he gasped, smiling into his widened eyes with an evil grin. She rolled him over and teased him, alternately rubbing his back and tickling his ribs, biting his neck and licking his spine, massaging his thighs and calves and running sharp fingernails across the soles of his feet until he was a mess of overstimulated responses, muscles jerking, anticipating.
"You look so gorgeous in the moonlight like this," she whispered, "the moonlight on all that pale, freckled skin... all twitchy with wondering just what I'll do next, hm? What do you want me to do next, Dean?"
"Anything, Cassie. Whatever you want. Just whatever!" Dean was game, let no one say otherwise.
Dean felt Cassie shift, and she did a little shimmy up behind him, then she purred, "How about this, Dean? Anybody ever had you this way?"
Cassie leaned her body down over Dean's back. He felt her breasts pressing soft against him as her hand came around to his mouth. He kissed her finger and tasted her unmistakeable musk, part mammal, part ocean. He groaned as the scent went straight through his brain and down his spine.
Her hand, it felt like, followed, as she reached back inside herself and drew out her finger again, all wet and slick.
Dean pressed helplessly down into the blanket he'd laid across the seat of the Impala. It was the sort of soft, clean cotton blanket you might take on picnics, if you were the sort who went on picnics, or if you were the sort who needed a soft blanket in the backseat of the car you hoped on getting lucky in that night.
He forgot all that as he felt her finger breach him, and then her tongue followed suit. "ohhh, Cassie," he moaned, trying to relax, his ass clenching around her.
"Shhh. Just breathe. You'll like it, I promise."
Before long, her finger was moving freely. The friction was weird as it moved in and out. Then she added another finger and seemed to feel around for something.
"Ahh! Cassie! Cass!" Dean shouted, muffled by the blanket.
Cassie chuckled and kept on going. Each time her two fingers pressed in, Dean felt an electric thrill shoot through his whole body, till he didn't know quite what to do.
"Now turn over," she whispered, and he struggled to comply. The Impala's back bench seat was generous, but still, he was over six feet, and she had her fingers in his ass. The rotation was a challenge, but he did it.
"Condom," she said, and handed him a packet that he tore open with shaky fingers, and he put it on himself, breathing out harshly as her fingers continued their mysterious work. A light scent of fruit floated through the car.
"Flavored," she said, then went down on him.
Dean fell apart. Her fingers, working him from the inside -- her left hand, gripping him tight around the base -- her mouth, gliding smoothly with just enough pressure to tease him, but not enough to bring him over. He wanted to thrust, but her strong hand was holding him down -- he wanted to clench, but her fingers were inside him. He tried to let his mind wander, to get a bit of distance from the overpowering feelings -- but she was stroking into him with incredible shocks of pleasure that prevented him from drifting, locking him into the sensory overload of here and now.
He looked up at her with blissful eyes as she pulled off to grin down at him. She was so damned beautiful. He'd never felt like this for any girl, never felt so willing to place himself wholeheartedly in her hands.
Suddenly she straddled him, her knees around his hips. "Here, up," she said, and he braced his body on his elbows, drawing his knees up as she instructed.
Fascinated he saw her reach into herself again with her left hand, gathering up the dripping wetness, and once she had them arranged -- she twisted, reaching back and driving her fingers into him again, wet and smooth from her what she'd gathered, just as she sank down on him, gripping him tightly inside her strong sheath.
"Now, don't move," she warned as Dean tried to breathe through clenched teeth.
He felt her ripple around him, almost a milking motion, as she worked her inner muscles in a kind of invisible dance. The random thought occurred to him that this was what belly dancers were trying to make you think about. She closed her eyes and frowned in concentration as she gently probed inside him, dancing on him, never moving. At last she began to breathe heavier.
"There, ah there, oh Dean, right there!" she jumped a little, two, three times, and then she was coming. He was pressed so deeply inside her -- her body so hot inside, like a fever, as she held him right where she wanted, and then he was coming too, and she bent down and kissed him, her soft curls falling all around his face as she let go and kissed him, over and over, as they came down.
***
They were sitting in the front seat, dressed again, when Dean came to his decision.
"Cassie, I need to tell you something."
the rest of the story pg-13
HET, obviously. Explicit. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDERAGE.
According to Show editor, Anthony Pinker, "The violence we don't get a lot of notes on" but for "Route 666" "... The note I got from the network was 'The girl can't be on top.'" !?!
"There's Venus," Dean said, pointing "the wishing star. You wanna make a wish?"
Cassie must've forgiven him pretty well by now, considering she just finished off her beer, slid off the trunk, and pulled him by hand behind her, into the back seat.
***
Dean would never forget how beautiful she was as she laid him back on the seat, took off his clothes, and hers, and climbed on top of him. Dean took a lot of pride in knowing how to please a woman, and if Cassie liked to be the one in charge, he was more than willing to go along with it.
She kissed him possessively and he opened up for her, moaning in pleasure as she lightly rubbed herself against him. Her fingers found his nipples, and she laughed when he gasped, smiling into his widened eyes with an evil grin. She rolled him over and teased him, alternately rubbing his back and tickling his ribs, biting his neck and licking his spine, massaging his thighs and calves and running sharp fingernails across the soles of his feet until he was a mess of overstimulated responses, muscles jerking, anticipating.
"You look so gorgeous in the moonlight like this," she whispered, "the moonlight on all that pale, freckled skin... all twitchy with wondering just what I'll do next, hm? What do you want me to do next, Dean?"
"Anything, Cassie. Whatever you want. Just whatever!" Dean was game, let no one say otherwise.
Dean felt Cassie shift, and she did a little shimmy up behind him, then she purred, "How about this, Dean? Anybody ever had you this way?"
Cassie leaned her body down over Dean's back. He felt her breasts pressing soft against him as her hand came around to his mouth. He kissed her finger and tasted her unmistakeable musk, part mammal, part ocean. He groaned as the scent went straight through his brain and down his spine.
Her hand, it felt like, followed, as she reached back inside herself and drew out her finger again, all wet and slick.
Dean pressed helplessly down into the blanket he'd laid across the seat of the Impala. It was the sort of soft, clean cotton blanket you might take on picnics, if you were the sort who went on picnics, or if you were the sort who needed a soft blanket in the backseat of the car you hoped on getting lucky in that night.
He forgot all that as he felt her finger breach him, and then her tongue followed suit. "ohhh, Cassie," he moaned, trying to relax, his ass clenching around her.
"Shhh. Just breathe. You'll like it, I promise."
Before long, her finger was moving freely. The friction was weird as it moved in and out. Then she added another finger and seemed to feel around for something.
"Ahh! Cassie! Cass!" Dean shouted, muffled by the blanket.
Cassie chuckled and kept on going. Each time her two fingers pressed in, Dean felt an electric thrill shoot through his whole body, till he didn't know quite what to do.
"Now turn over," she whispered, and he struggled to comply. The Impala's back bench seat was generous, but still, he was over six feet, and she had her fingers in his ass. The rotation was a challenge, but he did it.
"Condom," she said, and handed him a packet that he tore open with shaky fingers, and he put it on himself, breathing out harshly as her fingers continued their mysterious work. A light scent of fruit floated through the car.
"Flavored," she said, then went down on him.
Dean fell apart. Her fingers, working him from the inside -- her left hand, gripping him tight around the base -- her mouth, gliding smoothly with just enough pressure to tease him, but not enough to bring him over. He wanted to thrust, but her strong hand was holding him down -- he wanted to clench, but her fingers were inside him. He tried to let his mind wander, to get a bit of distance from the overpowering feelings -- but she was stroking into him with incredible shocks of pleasure that prevented him from drifting, locking him into the sensory overload of here and now.
He looked up at her with blissful eyes as she pulled off to grin down at him. She was so damned beautiful. He'd never felt like this for any girl, never felt so willing to place himself wholeheartedly in her hands.
Suddenly she straddled him, her knees around his hips. "Here, up," she said, and he braced his body on his elbows, drawing his knees up as she instructed.
Fascinated he saw her reach into herself again with her left hand, gathering up the dripping wetness, and once she had them arranged -- she twisted, reaching back and driving her fingers into him again, wet and smooth from her what she'd gathered, just as she sank down on him, gripping him tightly inside her strong sheath.
"Now, don't move," she warned as Dean tried to breathe through clenched teeth.
He felt her ripple around him, almost a milking motion, as she worked her inner muscles in a kind of invisible dance. The random thought occurred to him that this was what belly dancers were trying to make you think about. She closed her eyes and frowned in concentration as she gently probed inside him, dancing on him, never moving. At last she began to breathe heavier.
"There, ah there, oh Dean, right there!" she jumped a little, two, three times, and then she was coming. He was pressed so deeply inside her -- her body so hot inside, like a fever, as she held him right where she wanted, and then he was coming too, and she bent down and kissed him, her soft curls falling all around his face as she let go and kissed him, over and over, as they came down.
***
They were sitting in the front seat, dressed again, when Dean came to his decision.
"Cassie, I need to tell you something."
the rest of the story pg-13