[fic] jaimeykay, smilla, and mariahlee: The Dizziness of the Fall
[ Rarepair FPF: Dean/Alastair ]
Title: The Dizziness of the Fall
Writer: jaimeykay along with smilla and mariahlee
Alternate links: On AO3
Status of work: complete
Characters and/or pairings: Dean/Alastair, Dean/OFC
Rating: Explicit
Warnings, kinks & contents: [Click to read]non-con, Hell, references to torture, rough sex: (spanking, breathplay, rimming), sex in a possessed body
Length: 10k
Summary: She was supposed to be a random hook up, no strings attached, like the good old times. But she's different: he shouldn't follow her; her eyes are filled with promises he doesn't think he can keep. There's something about her touch, something familiar, something that strips him bare and leaves him vulnerable, and he can't find it in himself to say no.
Reccer's notes: This fic illustrates beautifully the disconnect Dean felt when he got out of Hell. He was disconnected from Sam, from hunting, from his surroundings, and Dean as he's written here wears that disconnection like an ill-fitting coat. He's vulnerable but still so very Dean, and of course Alastair just finds that combination intoxicating. But what I love about this fic is the way Alastair isn't cruel. He gives Dean what he needs and is so very careful not to hurt him. There is something loving and intimate in this fic that was completely unexpected and that made me love it just that much more. Plus, Alastair is in a female host, which makes for some really sexy het...
[Short excerpt]Lee tsks under her breath and she spanks him again, harder this time, enough for him to cry out in pain.
“This can stop,” she says. “This can stop if you just say so.”
Her hand rests on the curve of his ass, thumb teasing the skin with slow, circular movements. The burning - the stinging pain - got to his cock, making it rock hard and flushed red against the paleness of her thigh. She turns him around and stares at it, a pleased look on her face, a corner of her lip upward in a crooked smirk, like she got him exactly where he wanted him. Dean looks at her body, flat stomach and small tits, the nipples red and erect, aureolas dark and narrow. Her eyes are hooded, dark, her arousal a red stain that spreads from her neck to the sides of her face.
But she’s not even breathing fast, such a contrast to Dean’s heaving chest. He’s lacking oxygen, no matter how much air he gulps down.
She grips the head of his cock, the movement so fast Dean gets dizzy. He closes his eyes when she scratches at the slit with a nail. She keeps at it, palm and fingers fast around his cock in a loose hold, no friction to get Dean off.
“Just say so,” she says again, but there’s a dare in her voice this time like Dean’s not strong enough to take it, to take what she wants to give him, and Dean snaps his eyes open.
She’s smiling, a full stretch of her lips that dimples her chin, and maybe she reads the capitulation in his eyes, maybe, because he has given in, even before he whispers a noiseless yes.
The hand that was on his ass splays against his heart, and Dean wonders if she feels the hard beating in his chest. She surely is, right? It’s echoing in his ears and pulsing at his neck and drowning every other noise.
She follows a path of fingertips to his collarbone, tiny pressure points that let a shiver loose down his spine.
“You look like someone a girl can have fun with,” she says.
It shouldn’t, but it sounds ominous, sounds like a threat, like something Dean should run from and fast.