[FIC]: Undertow (Dean/Tessa, Adult)
[Undertow]
SPN. Dean/Tessa. R. ~660 words. Pornlet. Post 6.11.
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She likes his sounds, the way he begs for her sometimes in those moments between sleeping and waking, how his voice wraps around her and pulls her in until she's trapped in the soft cage of his body.
She likes his touch, the rough slide of his hands caressing her, trailing along the peaks of her tits, the rounded curve of her ass, into the velvet folds of her cunt. She likes the solid, hard curve of his body that she fits so perfectly into. She likes his lips especially, and the warm, wet slide of his tongue against hers.
He aches for her sometimes, so desperate to find peace in the warm heat of her touch, so desperate to be free of this flesh, of this life. He awakens feelings in her too, desire and pleasure both, and in those moments she gets so lost inside him, floating in the clear light of his head, in the quiet longing of his soul.
- - -
She lost him once, twice, so many times she's begun to imagine it a game they play.
"Open your eyes, Dean," she whispers, and he comes awake with a soft whimper and a heated breath.
"Tessa?" he says, and his eyes are gleaming stars under the long curl of his lashes.
She runs a finger over his ribs, along the yellowing bruise spreading across his skin. She lingers for a moment over the patch of pink scar tissue above his navel. She wants to ask him about all these times he almost came to her. The near deaths, the close calls, the moments when he straddled the line between her world and his own. But she knows he'll come to her in the end; they all do.
She sits back on his thighs, leans down to kiss the jagged scar that follows the curve of his hip. Another close call that almost brought him back to her. Dean inhales sharply and his hands settle low on her waist as he pulls her forward with a heavy grunt. They fall back together on the bed, bodies sliding against each other. He's smiling as he says, "This is where we say goodbye again, huh?"
She kisses the sharp jut of his chin and whispers, "Just until next time."
There are times when her need for him is overwhelming. She crawls over him, covering him with her body, riding his sex like it belongs to her, only to her. His legs lengthen and spread around her, and he brings her closer into the white-hot center of himself. She wants to possess him, hold him inside the space between his breaths. She presses her hands everywhere she can, cupping her palm full of him, measuring the stuttering of his heartbeat, the pumping of blood through his veins. All the life inside of him rushing out to greet her.
She leans down to taste him, to sink her teeth into the hollow of his armpit, to run her lips along the ridge of his spine, between the crease of his thighs. Dean moans, arching up, as his cock slides along the curve of her tongue. She opens her mouth and swallows him whole, and he makes a sound like he's dying, like he's coming apart just for her.
She forgets sometimes that he is only a human, a boy really, young and reckless and thrumming with vibrant life that's always on the verge of some untimely death, a soul that is destined to ride the wild edge of her desire. When she takes him inside of herself, so deep inside, she holds him there like she'll never let him go.
The light of the world outside is falling, the lost night rushing up to meet them when he finally breaks open for her. She squeezes down on him as he spills inside her, filling her with his life and his death and every desperate moment in between.
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