Highway to Hell: One Shots: "Backseat Love"
Highway to Hell : One Shots
Backseat Love
Chapter Wordcount: 3201
Rating: NC17
A/N: Title from "Backseat Love" by NERD...kinda, technically I came up with it on my own and then googled to see if there was a song with that in the lyrics...and there was. Also the lime green VW she mentions at the end...my dad totally had one like that :D
...I'm half tempted to show pics of all the cars I mention lol *is a proud grease monkey*
also thanks to jsheehan for helping me *cough* work thru some writer's block ;)
Bobby’s place was like a half dozen states all rolled into one gritty rusty package.
The house was straight out of the Midwest, faded by the sun, paint cracking and peeling. In its better days it would have been the sweet little two story you see in the middle of every corn field.
Behind it was the garage, a couple sheds and random equipment. Dry and rusty, paint peeling just like the house. The couple acres that spread out to the side looked like an abandoned ghost town out west.
Sea of cars, broken and bleeding. Oil and evaporating gas killing the little wisps of grass before they could even start to grow between the gravel and dusty sand.
But further out, towards the edges of his property sat the cars that no one really bothered with. The ones that didn’t come in on a wrecker and leave a couple weeks later smashed flat on a semi bed. These were the ones that came here to die. Came to sit and rust away in a miserable silence. The ones that weren’t worth it to sell, the ones that were so old no one even bothered to look for parts off of them anymore.
The ones, quite literally put out to pasture. Back here was another handful of acres, the grease and fluids long since gone from pumping though the veins of the relics and letting the green actually take hold. Grass grown up high over the tires in some places, flat and soft in others. There was a Camaro over in the corner, tree grown up through the empty engine bay, unofficial guard and marker for the edge of Bobby’s land. Vines grew over and through some trucks way off on the side, American jungle that made you feel like you were down south.
Monte slipped her way in between the iron and steel corpses. Dragging her finger across rust bruised metal and paint. Tires dry rotted and falling apart, leaving the rims to cut into the dark dirt underneath.
Engines sat grease black and iron red in truck beds that they didn’t even belong to. Hubcaps dented and left alone across the ground.
She kicked a rusted brake rotor, the earth already rising up to swallow it halfway. There was a ’55 Chevy off to the right, one of the straight axle hot rod wanna bes, one tire through the windshield cradled in the rusted wires and molding foam of the bench seat, the axle straight out over the hood where a bare rim rested against the iron grey hood.
There was a pile of driveshafts sitting next to it, even a couple of two-piecers.
There were two or three old Ford pickups, huddled together, one even had an old Beetle torn apart in pieces in its bed. Next to them sat an Avanti, crushed under the weight of an El Camino.
She smirked, threading her way deeper into the graveyard, passing a Charger, rough 01 spray painted on the side. There was a first generation Merc Cougar, vinyl roof torn to shreds, purple goat parked next to it, its paint faded to grey, hood sunburned dull and sandpaper rough under the South Dakota sun.
She spotted an old Buick GS convertible, the lines catching her eye despite the pummeled front fender and missing bumper. She climbed over the trunk of a battered Javelin to get to it.
The convertible top was stuck, rubber seals long turned to glue from age and the door hung at an old angle when she opened it.
She rammed up with her shoulder, hearing the seal crack loose and with a little elbow grease got the old top to fold down about ninety percent of the way.
The sealed top had managed to keep the interior in decent condition, considering it had been outside in the elements for the past couple decades.
She shut the door with a metallic slam, leaning over to the driver side first and then back to the passenger, muscling the window cranks and lowering the murky dust covered glass.
She climbed into the back seat, vinyl old and cracked and stretched out, back propped against the side panel and closed her eyes.
The sun was starting to go down and crisp cool air creeped across the car, carrying on it the scent of grease and iron, burned oil and just the barest hint of confederate jasmine from where it grew wild on the fence line.
She felt like she was back home. Metal and sweet thick air. One by one her muscles relaxed, slow uncoiling that had her melting into the heat of the seat.
She didn’t know how long she had been sitting there before she heard the crunch of gravel in the distance, back where the grass didn’t grow, before she could hear the boot steps soften, hitting the green carpet, occasional metal groan as someone moved between the corpses.
She didn’t bother to reach for her gun, always tucked in her waistband. Bobby’s place was like Fort Knox, protected from just about everything, human and non-human alike.
“What are you doing out here?” Dean rumbled, crawling his way over the same Javelin she had earlier.
She didn’t bother with an answer, just cracked her eyes open and smiled at him as he stepped from the AMC’s trunk, planting his boot on the edge of the Buick’s door and finally down into the car, dropping himself into the seat beside her when she lifted her legs and made room for him.
He crammed himself in the corner opposite her, nudging her boot with his own.
She just smiled, toeing off her shoes before crawling over into his lap, knees sinking down into the worn out seat on either side of his hips.
“Hey you.”
“Hey back,” she grinned, leaning in and kissing him, settling down in his lap until her hips were pushed flush against his, she could already feel the heat rising off him.
She ran her hands down his arms, grateful for the heat wave they had had this week because for once in his life he was in nothing but a grey t-shirt and jeans.
He groaned into her mouth, fingers slipping under her cotton tank top and sinking into her sides, pulling her tighter against him.
She moaned back, rolling her hips into him, feeling him swell beneath her and grinning against his lips when he slid his hands under the back of her jeans, palms sweaty and hot against her bare skin.
“Commando?” he grinned, smirking mischievously at her.
She just grinned back, nipping at his bottom lip before licking a trail of wet kisses over his stubble covered cheek and down his neck. Wandering hands finding the tattered hem of his shirt and breaking away from skin long enough to yank it over his head.
Dean’s hands were instantly back on her, skin sticky with sweat.
“What’s gotten into you?” he growled, eyes sparked and a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
She just grinned, shrugging her shoulder and shot him a look that had him swallowing with a tinge of fear at the same time that his blood rushed southward.
One by one she popped the buttons free on his pants, biting a kiss across his chest with each step further to opening the denim flaps.
When she reached the last in line she bit down hard on his nipple. He gasped, back arching against her and before he had come back down her fingers had snagged his belt loops and in one strong jerk yanked the jeans down over his ass.
“Damn girl,” he chuckled, low honey sweet rumble through his chest.
“You know,” she whispered, licking the salty twang of sweat from his chest, easing her way back to his mouth. “How sometimes you go down on me just ‘cause you want to…won’t even let me touch you,” she sighed, eyes dragging over his face to watch the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed.
“Yea,” he ground out, voice drug raw over gravel.
“Well…it goes both ways,” she murmured in his ear, dragging the cartilage through her teeth.
“Fuck,” he hissed, hips pushing against her in an unconscious move to gain more friction, head falling back.
“Not tonight baby,” she whispered, crawling backwards on her knees, folding herself into the floorboard, manhandling him until she was kneeling between his legs and finished pulling off his jeans, tossing them over the front seat.
“Sonofabitch,” he sighed, lifting his head long enough to see her pull her tank top off, hot press of skin against his leg before letting it fall back with a dull thump, muscles going lax and weak like he was drunk.
Her palms slid up his thighs, sticky skin tugging against the grain of his hair as she nudged his knees wider apart.
She grinned, looking up to see him with his eyes clenched shut, brass amulet rocking against his chest as he heaved in broken gulps of air.
She blew a hot gust of air over his cock, chuckling at him when it twitched and he groaned, hips stuttering against the phantom touch.
“Cocktease,” he hissed, shifting down further into the seat.
“You like it,” she smiled, biting at the jut of bone at his hip as she wrapped a sweat slick palm around his shaft.
He groaned again, jaw snapping shut with a click of teeth as his abs tightened, hips pushing up into the tight circle of her fist.
It was dry, not nearly enough sweat and pre-come to slick the way but the harsh drag of skin on skin only made it better and his neck corded, hips working between her hand and the seat, a whine slithering through his throat that he would never admit to.
“Sshh,” she hissed, vibration of air and lips against the head of his cock. Tongue snaking out to lick against the slit and his back arched, sweaty skin pulling off the dusty vinyl seat with an audible tear.
“Goddamnit Monte,” he growled, voice thick with need and low like thunder.
“Just shut up,” she hissed, swirling her tongue around the head, moaning as the salty taste that washed across her tongue, one hand still slowly stroking up and down, slight twist towards the top, while the other squeezed his balls.
He let his head fall back again, fingers digging into a tear in the seat and sinking into the foam below and bit his tongue, letting her drag this out.
Finally she licked her lips, glossy with spit and sank down on him, one long drag that had him nudging against the back of her throat.
“Shit…” he hissed, struggling against the need to thrust into the wet burn. She moaned, vibration shuddering through his bones and pressed her palm flat against his hip, holding him down against the seat before dragging her lips back up, tongue swirling around the head, tip pushing against where it came together underneath before sliding back down.
He was panting hard through his nose but lifted his head enough to watch her.
She could feel his gaze burning on her and lifted her eyes to meet his as she wrapped her hand around the base of him and squeezed, tongue wiggling back and forth across the vein on the underside as she slid back to the top, sucking on the head like a piece of candy.
He groaned, the heat in her eyes lighting his body up like a match, burning from the inside out and he’d bet money on her being able to see his skin flush.
She slid down slow, letting spit slip from between her lips, slick and smooth, easing the harsh drag, sucking light and constant on the way back up. Stopping to kiss and run her tongue over the sensitive head again, easy twist up slide down of her fist.
She eased the grip of her hand, continuing with slow even strokes, ducking her head to lick his balls. Sucking one into her mouth at a time, working them with her tongue.
She went back up, still holding his eyes and sucked on the head again, spit slick, tightening her fist and speeding up her strokes, moaning when his hips jerked instinctively.
She closed her eyes, hand sliding down before she went down hard, swallowing against her gag reflex and coming back up quick to suck at the tip again.
“Holy shit,” he groaned, fingers digging deeper into the seat.
She grinned, repeating the process a couple more times, hard thrust down, slow sweet drag up with a soft sucking kiss before pulling back, swallowing against the burn in her throat, hand taking over where her mouth left off.
She worked her jaw a couple times, dull ache in the hinge. Dean was still panting hard, hips rolling in time with her hand, watching her every move.
She swirled her tongue around the tip again, free hand coming up to press against his balls, cupping them against his body, tongue hot velvet on the underside of his shaft as she went back down. He hissed as she came back up, letting her teeth drag softly over the silk incased steel and he groaned low in his throat, finally allowing himself to reach out and thread his fingers through her hair, growl rumbling through his chest when she slipped her eyes closed at the touch.
She could tell by the tremble under his skin, the sheen of sweat that was highlighted in the moon that he wasn’t that far away.
She took one more long drag before sucking hard, tongue pushing against the bottom of his head and moaned when she felt him groan and stiffen, back bowing against the seat back.
Her hand bounced between her mouth and his body, sticky with spit and sweat and she groaned when he fisted his other hand in her hair, loosening her jaw, but keeping up the suction and let him take the reins, soft thrust in and out of her mouth.
She opened her eyes, pinning him to the seat and told him wordlessly to just let go.
He growled, thrusting deeper, groan ripping from his chest as he threw his head back, back arched against the sticky vinyl, sharp piston of his hips into her mouth, vision murky and unfocused as his muscles clenched and he let the hot rush wash over him.
She could feel him swell and harden, letting her body loosen to follow his erratic movements as he thrust into her mouth, feeling the thick warm liquid pulse across her tongue.
When his fist unclenched, hand trailing down her face she sucked slowly, drawing her mouth off of his spent cock and ran her hands soothingly over his thighs, easing herself back onto the seat, making sure not to brush against his sensitive shaft.
His hands came up to cradle her ribs, feeling her crawl over him and he cracked his eyes open when her shadow fell over his eyes.
Her eyes bounced back and forth between his, his focus going in and out and he tried to calm his breathing before falling to her lips, still spit slick and swollen.
It wasn’t until then that he realized she hadn’t swallowed and his eyes shot back to hers, trying to figure out what was sparking in the blue grey.
His chest tightened when her eyes fell to his lips, slightly parted and he realized what she wanted.
When she looked back up at him he held her eyes and leaned in slowly, grazing his lips across hers, fingers digging into her sides when her breath hitched.
His gaze dropped back to her lips for a split second before his hand came up to cradle the back of her head and brought her mouth crashing down on his, her lips parting in a shocked gasp, slick slide of cum snaking between them and over his tongue.
He groaned, fingers tightening in her hair and chased the taste in her mouth, wrapping his tongue around hers, free hand running down the knobs of her spine as she melted against him.
She blinked in a daze when he pulled back, sticky string of saliva and cum stretched between their mouths before it snapped.
He grinned at her expression, kissing her softly again before letting her settle against his chest.
She curled up against him, back pressed against the seat, ear resting over his heart and let her hand follow the rise and fall of his chest as he brought his breathing back down.
“You never answered my question,” he said quietly after a moment of silence, the vibration of his voice rumbling straight through his chest and into her.
“Hmm?”
“What are you doing out here?”
He felt her shrug her shoulder against him.
“It feels like home,” she said quietly, causing him to crane his neck to look at her.
“Just the cars…the metal and grease and oil.”
“This place is nothing but a graveyard,” he said, slight lilt of confusion to his voice.
“To you, to me it’s more like an orphanage…strays just waiting for someone to actually pay attention to them.”
There was a slight rumble of laughter though his chest.
“I remember the first time my Dad took me with him,” she said quietly, “We walked through that junkyard for an hour before we found an old beat up 442, yellow paint faded almost white, black bumble bee stripes. Anybody else would have passed it over, left it to rust and die but Dad saw it, could see what it could be…that was the first car I helped him rebuild,” she said quietly.
Dean swallowed hard, tightening his arm around her.
“Junkyards were like Christmas morning, you just walked around and took your pick of the litter.”
Dean huffed a laugh, feeling a little better when he felt her smile against him.
“We found this old Volkswagen one time,” she grinned. “Daddy dropped a friggin’ Porsche motor in the thing, he could stand it up on its hind end.”
Dean chuckled again, hand tracing patterns over her arm.
“Him and…” she cut herself off and he felt her stiffen, eyes glancing down at her in concern.
“Him and Kevin painted it lime green,” she finally said quietly.
She stayed silent after that, curling into his chest when he pulled her tighter against him, hand running down her back.
“Guess you do have a way with seeing under the rust and mud huh? Polishing up a lost cause, turning it into a show stopper?”
She looked up at him, grin tugging at the corner of her mouth at the smile in his eyes.
“Yea, I guess I do,” she grinned, leaning up to kiss him softly, nuzzling under his chin and draping herself over him.
“Hey baby…”
“Hmm?”
“You know…how you like it when I lay on top of you…” he asked quietly, knowing she loved it when she was under his body weight.
“Yea…”
“Well it goes both ways,” he grinned, pulling her tighter to his chest and grinning when she chuckled against him.
Previous: Cowboys and Angels | Next: Old Yeller
Highway to Hell Master Post
Backseat Love
Chapter Wordcount: 3201
Rating: NC17
A/N: Title from "Backseat Love" by NERD...kinda, technically I came up with it on my own and then googled to see if there was a song with that in the lyrics...and there was. Also the lime green VW she mentions at the end...my dad totally had one like that :D
...I'm half tempted to show pics of all the cars I mention lol *is a proud grease monkey*
also thanks to jsheehan for helping me *cough* work thru some writer's block ;)
Bobby’s place was like a half dozen states all rolled into one gritty rusty package.
The house was straight out of the Midwest, faded by the sun, paint cracking and peeling. In its better days it would have been the sweet little two story you see in the middle of every corn field.
Behind it was the garage, a couple sheds and random equipment. Dry and rusty, paint peeling just like the house. The couple acres that spread out to the side looked like an abandoned ghost town out west.
Sea of cars, broken and bleeding. Oil and evaporating gas killing the little wisps of grass before they could even start to grow between the gravel and dusty sand.
But further out, towards the edges of his property sat the cars that no one really bothered with. The ones that didn’t come in on a wrecker and leave a couple weeks later smashed flat on a semi bed. These were the ones that came here to die. Came to sit and rust away in a miserable silence. The ones that weren’t worth it to sell, the ones that were so old no one even bothered to look for parts off of them anymore.
The ones, quite literally put out to pasture. Back here was another handful of acres, the grease and fluids long since gone from pumping though the veins of the relics and letting the green actually take hold. Grass grown up high over the tires in some places, flat and soft in others. There was a Camaro over in the corner, tree grown up through the empty engine bay, unofficial guard and marker for the edge of Bobby’s land. Vines grew over and through some trucks way off on the side, American jungle that made you feel like you were down south.
Monte slipped her way in between the iron and steel corpses. Dragging her finger across rust bruised metal and paint. Tires dry rotted and falling apart, leaving the rims to cut into the dark dirt underneath.
Engines sat grease black and iron red in truck beds that they didn’t even belong to. Hubcaps dented and left alone across the ground.
She kicked a rusted brake rotor, the earth already rising up to swallow it halfway. There was a ’55 Chevy off to the right, one of the straight axle hot rod wanna bes, one tire through the windshield cradled in the rusted wires and molding foam of the bench seat, the axle straight out over the hood where a bare rim rested against the iron grey hood.
There was a pile of driveshafts sitting next to it, even a couple of two-piecers.
There were two or three old Ford pickups, huddled together, one even had an old Beetle torn apart in pieces in its bed. Next to them sat an Avanti, crushed under the weight of an El Camino.
She smirked, threading her way deeper into the graveyard, passing a Charger, rough 01 spray painted on the side. There was a first generation Merc Cougar, vinyl roof torn to shreds, purple goat parked next to it, its paint faded to grey, hood sunburned dull and sandpaper rough under the South Dakota sun.
She spotted an old Buick GS convertible, the lines catching her eye despite the pummeled front fender and missing bumper. She climbed over the trunk of a battered Javelin to get to it.
The convertible top was stuck, rubber seals long turned to glue from age and the door hung at an old angle when she opened it.
She rammed up with her shoulder, hearing the seal crack loose and with a little elbow grease got the old top to fold down about ninety percent of the way.
The sealed top had managed to keep the interior in decent condition, considering it had been outside in the elements for the past couple decades.
She shut the door with a metallic slam, leaning over to the driver side first and then back to the passenger, muscling the window cranks and lowering the murky dust covered glass.
She climbed into the back seat, vinyl old and cracked and stretched out, back propped against the side panel and closed her eyes.
The sun was starting to go down and crisp cool air creeped across the car, carrying on it the scent of grease and iron, burned oil and just the barest hint of confederate jasmine from where it grew wild on the fence line.
She felt like she was back home. Metal and sweet thick air. One by one her muscles relaxed, slow uncoiling that had her melting into the heat of the seat.
She didn’t know how long she had been sitting there before she heard the crunch of gravel in the distance, back where the grass didn’t grow, before she could hear the boot steps soften, hitting the green carpet, occasional metal groan as someone moved between the corpses.
She didn’t bother to reach for her gun, always tucked in her waistband. Bobby’s place was like Fort Knox, protected from just about everything, human and non-human alike.
“What are you doing out here?” Dean rumbled, crawling his way over the same Javelin she had earlier.
She didn’t bother with an answer, just cracked her eyes open and smiled at him as he stepped from the AMC’s trunk, planting his boot on the edge of the Buick’s door and finally down into the car, dropping himself into the seat beside her when she lifted her legs and made room for him.
He crammed himself in the corner opposite her, nudging her boot with his own.
She just smiled, toeing off her shoes before crawling over into his lap, knees sinking down into the worn out seat on either side of his hips.
“Hey you.”
“Hey back,” she grinned, leaning in and kissing him, settling down in his lap until her hips were pushed flush against his, she could already feel the heat rising off him.
She ran her hands down his arms, grateful for the heat wave they had had this week because for once in his life he was in nothing but a grey t-shirt and jeans.
He groaned into her mouth, fingers slipping under her cotton tank top and sinking into her sides, pulling her tighter against him.
She moaned back, rolling her hips into him, feeling him swell beneath her and grinning against his lips when he slid his hands under the back of her jeans, palms sweaty and hot against her bare skin.
“Commando?” he grinned, smirking mischievously at her.
She just grinned back, nipping at his bottom lip before licking a trail of wet kisses over his stubble covered cheek and down his neck. Wandering hands finding the tattered hem of his shirt and breaking away from skin long enough to yank it over his head.
Dean’s hands were instantly back on her, skin sticky with sweat.
“What’s gotten into you?” he growled, eyes sparked and a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
She just grinned, shrugging her shoulder and shot him a look that had him swallowing with a tinge of fear at the same time that his blood rushed southward.
One by one she popped the buttons free on his pants, biting a kiss across his chest with each step further to opening the denim flaps.
When she reached the last in line she bit down hard on his nipple. He gasped, back arching against her and before he had come back down her fingers had snagged his belt loops and in one strong jerk yanked the jeans down over his ass.
“Damn girl,” he chuckled, low honey sweet rumble through his chest.
“You know,” she whispered, licking the salty twang of sweat from his chest, easing her way back to his mouth. “How sometimes you go down on me just ‘cause you want to…won’t even let me touch you,” she sighed, eyes dragging over his face to watch the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed.
“Yea,” he ground out, voice drug raw over gravel.
“Well…it goes both ways,” she murmured in his ear, dragging the cartilage through her teeth.
“Fuck,” he hissed, hips pushing against her in an unconscious move to gain more friction, head falling back.
“Not tonight baby,” she whispered, crawling backwards on her knees, folding herself into the floorboard, manhandling him until she was kneeling between his legs and finished pulling off his jeans, tossing them over the front seat.
“Sonofabitch,” he sighed, lifting his head long enough to see her pull her tank top off, hot press of skin against his leg before letting it fall back with a dull thump, muscles going lax and weak like he was drunk.
Her palms slid up his thighs, sticky skin tugging against the grain of his hair as she nudged his knees wider apart.
She grinned, looking up to see him with his eyes clenched shut, brass amulet rocking against his chest as he heaved in broken gulps of air.
She blew a hot gust of air over his cock, chuckling at him when it twitched and he groaned, hips stuttering against the phantom touch.
“Cocktease,” he hissed, shifting down further into the seat.
“You like it,” she smiled, biting at the jut of bone at his hip as she wrapped a sweat slick palm around his shaft.
He groaned again, jaw snapping shut with a click of teeth as his abs tightened, hips pushing up into the tight circle of her fist.
It was dry, not nearly enough sweat and pre-come to slick the way but the harsh drag of skin on skin only made it better and his neck corded, hips working between her hand and the seat, a whine slithering through his throat that he would never admit to.
“Sshh,” she hissed, vibration of air and lips against the head of his cock. Tongue snaking out to lick against the slit and his back arched, sweaty skin pulling off the dusty vinyl seat with an audible tear.
“Goddamnit Monte,” he growled, voice thick with need and low like thunder.
“Just shut up,” she hissed, swirling her tongue around the head, moaning as the salty taste that washed across her tongue, one hand still slowly stroking up and down, slight twist towards the top, while the other squeezed his balls.
He let his head fall back again, fingers digging into a tear in the seat and sinking into the foam below and bit his tongue, letting her drag this out.
Finally she licked her lips, glossy with spit and sank down on him, one long drag that had him nudging against the back of her throat.
“Shit…” he hissed, struggling against the need to thrust into the wet burn. She moaned, vibration shuddering through his bones and pressed her palm flat against his hip, holding him down against the seat before dragging her lips back up, tongue swirling around the head, tip pushing against where it came together underneath before sliding back down.
He was panting hard through his nose but lifted his head enough to watch her.
She could feel his gaze burning on her and lifted her eyes to meet his as she wrapped her hand around the base of him and squeezed, tongue wiggling back and forth across the vein on the underside as she slid back to the top, sucking on the head like a piece of candy.
He groaned, the heat in her eyes lighting his body up like a match, burning from the inside out and he’d bet money on her being able to see his skin flush.
She slid down slow, letting spit slip from between her lips, slick and smooth, easing the harsh drag, sucking light and constant on the way back up. Stopping to kiss and run her tongue over the sensitive head again, easy twist up slide down of her fist.
She eased the grip of her hand, continuing with slow even strokes, ducking her head to lick his balls. Sucking one into her mouth at a time, working them with her tongue.
She went back up, still holding his eyes and sucked on the head again, spit slick, tightening her fist and speeding up her strokes, moaning when his hips jerked instinctively.
She closed her eyes, hand sliding down before she went down hard, swallowing against her gag reflex and coming back up quick to suck at the tip again.
“Holy shit,” he groaned, fingers digging deeper into the seat.
She grinned, repeating the process a couple more times, hard thrust down, slow sweet drag up with a soft sucking kiss before pulling back, swallowing against the burn in her throat, hand taking over where her mouth left off.
She worked her jaw a couple times, dull ache in the hinge. Dean was still panting hard, hips rolling in time with her hand, watching her every move.
She swirled her tongue around the tip again, free hand coming up to press against his balls, cupping them against his body, tongue hot velvet on the underside of his shaft as she went back down. He hissed as she came back up, letting her teeth drag softly over the silk incased steel and he groaned low in his throat, finally allowing himself to reach out and thread his fingers through her hair, growl rumbling through his chest when she slipped her eyes closed at the touch.
She could tell by the tremble under his skin, the sheen of sweat that was highlighted in the moon that he wasn’t that far away.
She took one more long drag before sucking hard, tongue pushing against the bottom of his head and moaned when she felt him groan and stiffen, back bowing against the seat back.
Her hand bounced between her mouth and his body, sticky with spit and sweat and she groaned when he fisted his other hand in her hair, loosening her jaw, but keeping up the suction and let him take the reins, soft thrust in and out of her mouth.
She opened her eyes, pinning him to the seat and told him wordlessly to just let go.
He growled, thrusting deeper, groan ripping from his chest as he threw his head back, back arched against the sticky vinyl, sharp piston of his hips into her mouth, vision murky and unfocused as his muscles clenched and he let the hot rush wash over him.
She could feel him swell and harden, letting her body loosen to follow his erratic movements as he thrust into her mouth, feeling the thick warm liquid pulse across her tongue.
When his fist unclenched, hand trailing down her face she sucked slowly, drawing her mouth off of his spent cock and ran her hands soothingly over his thighs, easing herself back onto the seat, making sure not to brush against his sensitive shaft.
His hands came up to cradle her ribs, feeling her crawl over him and he cracked his eyes open when her shadow fell over his eyes.
Her eyes bounced back and forth between his, his focus going in and out and he tried to calm his breathing before falling to her lips, still spit slick and swollen.
It wasn’t until then that he realized she hadn’t swallowed and his eyes shot back to hers, trying to figure out what was sparking in the blue grey.
His chest tightened when her eyes fell to his lips, slightly parted and he realized what she wanted.
When she looked back up at him he held her eyes and leaned in slowly, grazing his lips across hers, fingers digging into her sides when her breath hitched.
His gaze dropped back to her lips for a split second before his hand came up to cradle the back of her head and brought her mouth crashing down on his, her lips parting in a shocked gasp, slick slide of cum snaking between them and over his tongue.
He groaned, fingers tightening in her hair and chased the taste in her mouth, wrapping his tongue around hers, free hand running down the knobs of her spine as she melted against him.
She blinked in a daze when he pulled back, sticky string of saliva and cum stretched between their mouths before it snapped.
He grinned at her expression, kissing her softly again before letting her settle against his chest.
She curled up against him, back pressed against the seat, ear resting over his heart and let her hand follow the rise and fall of his chest as he brought his breathing back down.
“You never answered my question,” he said quietly after a moment of silence, the vibration of his voice rumbling straight through his chest and into her.
“Hmm?”
“What are you doing out here?”
He felt her shrug her shoulder against him.
“It feels like home,” she said quietly, causing him to crane his neck to look at her.
“Just the cars…the metal and grease and oil.”
“This place is nothing but a graveyard,” he said, slight lilt of confusion to his voice.
“To you, to me it’s more like an orphanage…strays just waiting for someone to actually pay attention to them.”
There was a slight rumble of laughter though his chest.
“I remember the first time my Dad took me with him,” she said quietly, “We walked through that junkyard for an hour before we found an old beat up 442, yellow paint faded almost white, black bumble bee stripes. Anybody else would have passed it over, left it to rust and die but Dad saw it, could see what it could be…that was the first car I helped him rebuild,” she said quietly.
Dean swallowed hard, tightening his arm around her.
“Junkyards were like Christmas morning, you just walked around and took your pick of the litter.”
Dean huffed a laugh, feeling a little better when he felt her smile against him.
“We found this old Volkswagen one time,” she grinned. “Daddy dropped a friggin’ Porsche motor in the thing, he could stand it up on its hind end.”
Dean chuckled again, hand tracing patterns over her arm.
“Him and…” she cut herself off and he felt her stiffen, eyes glancing down at her in concern.
“Him and Kevin painted it lime green,” she finally said quietly.
She stayed silent after that, curling into his chest when he pulled her tighter against him, hand running down her back.
“Guess you do have a way with seeing under the rust and mud huh? Polishing up a lost cause, turning it into a show stopper?”
She looked up at him, grin tugging at the corner of her mouth at the smile in his eyes.
“Yea, I guess I do,” she grinned, leaning up to kiss him softly, nuzzling under his chin and draping herself over him.
“Hey baby…”
“Hmm?”
“You know…how you like it when I lay on top of you…” he asked quietly, knowing she loved it when she was under his body weight.
“Yea…”
“Well it goes both ways,” he grinned, pulling her tighter to his chest and grinning when she chuckled against him.
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Highway to Hell Master Post