Wine Wednesday {have another glass}
Title: Wine Wednesday
Characters: Dean and Rowena
Rating: R
Word Count: 625
Summary: They've been doing this for a while now, and this week Dean has a surprise for her. Rowena might just get more than she bargained for.
A/N: This is for the lovely jj1564. Originally a double drabble for the DEW Challenge: Rowena, Wine for spn_bigpretzel posted here. Now with some extra words.
Rowena arched a perfectly manicured eyebrow, a bemused sort of smirk gracing her lips as she looked down at the notification on her phone.
you’ll never guess what I found!
From one Mr. Dean Winchester. She pushed her finger across the screen, just as a second message came in. A picture this time.
She gasped, hand to her chest, then she hit call, “Not possible. The last bottle of Chateau Margaux 1787 was spilled at a Four Seasons.”
“And yet, I’m holding it in my hand.”
“Has to be a knock off.”
“Well, there’s only one way to find out.”
--
Dean had the glass halfway to his lips when Rowena took hold of his wrist, “What?”
“Didn’t we talk about letting it breathe, you’ll never appreciate the full bouquet if you’re just going to hork it down like your usual swill.”
Dean sighed and rolled his eyes, “Unhand me.”
“Will you-”
“Yes! I’ll let it breathe. Give me back my hand.”
She held her hands up in surrender, head turned to the side in contempt.
Pressing her middle finger to her temple, “Was just trying to impart a modicum of sophistication.”
“Next time, you should let me cook you steak.”
"You? Want to cook? For me?"
Dean shrugs with a smile, very gently allowing his glass to swirl in his hand, “Might be nice to eat while we drink.”
He brought the glass up to his nose to inhale, before taking a sip.
Rowena’s eyes never leaving him.
“Well,” she said with a flourish of her hands, “Heavens knows you could learn a thing or two about etiquette in that department, too.”
Dean smirked a little, “You’re just dying to Pretty Woman me aren’t you?”
She reached up, stroking his cheek with the back of her hand, “My Fair Dean.”
“Audrey Hepburn? I’m much more of a Marilyn Monroe wouldn’t you say?”
“Comparing yourself to a street walker and old Hollywood’s most infamous tartlet? If I didn’t know any better, one might be led to believe you were angling to get between a girl’s…sheets.”
Dean snorted, “Not nearly liquored up enough for that.”
“Oh, no?” she said with a subtle shake of her head as she closed the space left between them, fingers tip tapping over his denim-clad erection, “Don’t play coy with me laddie.”
Dean leaned back just enough and turned his head to take another mouthful of his wine, setting it down behind her. He got his fingers in her hair, he loved when she wore it in waves.
Bouncy.
He leaned back in and down, let his nose trail through the red locks, taking in the scent of her shampoo, no doubt that it cost more than what he’d spend on it in a year, probably more. He couldn’t quite place it, but it was good.
Getting his hands on her hips he hoisted her up easy, pressing her back against the counter, her breath sharp, his lips hot against her ear as he rasped, “This what you want, Rowena?”
He pulled her skirt with his fingers, inching it up her leg, until he could get a hand on her bare thigh. The material dragging the rest of the way as he pushed his hand up to cup over her lace panties, making Rowena gasp and whimper. The heat of her sex practically pulsing into his palm. Fingers very lazily stroking over the thin fabric.
“Dean,” was all she managed to say on a shaky exhale.
Dean liked the sound of that, and he smirked, hooking a finger through the lace, letting his knuckle dip into the seam of her outer lips, drawing it down and back up, earning him another delicious little sound from her mouth, “Gonna make you scream it.”
Characters: Dean and Rowena
Rating: R
Word Count: 625
Summary: They've been doing this for a while now, and this week Dean has a surprise for her. Rowena might just get more than she bargained for.
A/N: This is for the lovely jj1564. Originally a double drabble for the DEW Challenge: Rowena, Wine for spn_bigpretzel posted here. Now with some extra words.
Rowena arched a perfectly manicured eyebrow, a bemused sort of smirk gracing her lips as she looked down at the notification on her phone.
you’ll never guess what I found!
From one Mr. Dean Winchester. She pushed her finger across the screen, just as a second message came in. A picture this time.
She gasped, hand to her chest, then she hit call, “Not possible. The last bottle of Chateau Margaux 1787 was spilled at a Four Seasons.”
“And yet, I’m holding it in my hand.”
“Has to be a knock off.”
“Well, there’s only one way to find out.”
--
Dean had the glass halfway to his lips when Rowena took hold of his wrist, “What?”
“Didn’t we talk about letting it breathe, you’ll never appreciate the full bouquet if you’re just going to hork it down like your usual swill.”
Dean sighed and rolled his eyes, “Unhand me.”
“Will you-”
“Yes! I’ll let it breathe. Give me back my hand.”
She held her hands up in surrender, head turned to the side in contempt.
Pressing her middle finger to her temple, “Was just trying to impart a modicum of sophistication.”
“Next time, you should let me cook you steak.”
"You? Want to cook? For me?"
Dean shrugs with a smile, very gently allowing his glass to swirl in his hand, “Might be nice to eat while we drink.”
He brought the glass up to his nose to inhale, before taking a sip.
Rowena’s eyes never leaving him.
“Well,” she said with a flourish of her hands, “Heavens knows you could learn a thing or two about etiquette in that department, too.”
Dean smirked a little, “You’re just dying to Pretty Woman me aren’t you?”
She reached up, stroking his cheek with the back of her hand, “My Fair Dean.”
“Audrey Hepburn? I’m much more of a Marilyn Monroe wouldn’t you say?”
“Comparing yourself to a street walker and old Hollywood’s most infamous tartlet? If I didn’t know any better, one might be led to believe you were angling to get between a girl’s…sheets.”
Dean snorted, “Not nearly liquored up enough for that.”
“Oh, no?” she said with a subtle shake of her head as she closed the space left between them, fingers tip tapping over his denim-clad erection, “Don’t play coy with me laddie.”
Dean leaned back just enough and turned his head to take another mouthful of his wine, setting it down behind her. He got his fingers in her hair, he loved when she wore it in waves.
Bouncy.
He leaned back in and down, let his nose trail through the red locks, taking in the scent of her shampoo, no doubt that it cost more than what he’d spend on it in a year, probably more. He couldn’t quite place it, but it was good.
Getting his hands on her hips he hoisted her up easy, pressing her back against the counter, her breath sharp, his lips hot against her ear as he rasped, “This what you want, Rowena?”
He pulled her skirt with his fingers, inching it up her leg, until he could get a hand on her bare thigh. The material dragging the rest of the way as he pushed his hand up to cup over her lace panties, making Rowena gasp and whimper. The heat of her sex practically pulsing into his palm. Fingers very lazily stroking over the thin fabric.
“Dean,” was all she managed to say on a shaky exhale.
Dean liked the sound of that, and he smirked, hooking a finger through the lace, letting his knuckle dip into the seam of her outer lips, drawing it down and back up, earning him another delicious little sound from her mouth, “Gonna make you scream it.”