Fic: Dean and Skye
Title: Dean and Skye
Author: MissAnnThropic
Spoilers: set in the Skyeverse (surrounding my fic "Wild by Skye")
Summary: She was just as much hunter as prey, and Dean knew it. He reveled in it. It felt exhilarating to be hunted by Skye. Not for the kiddies!!
Timeline: Go here for a chronological listing of Skyeverse fics to know where exactly this falls in the timeline. Or, you know, just read the fic and figure it out! Or eat pie. I know which one Dean would vote for.
Disclaimer: None of it's mine. I'm just a sad little fangirl that spends her days writing fanfic and watching DVDs of her favorite shows :(
********************
He watched her like a hunter watched prey. He was reclining on the couch in her small but cozy house, his eyes following her every move. She couldn't breathe without him knowing it.
Dean's slouch was misleading. He was far from inert. Far from care-free and nonchalant. He was a live wire, a stalker ready to pounce. If she ventured too close to where he sat, she'd be his.
Skye knew that. Her looks were telling. She moved around her living room, barefoot in her sweat pants, tank top, and Dean's flannel. Her eyes moved repeatedly to him, and the look was heated.
She was just as much hunter as prey, and Dean knew it. He reveled in it. It felt exhilarating to be hunted by Skye.
She toyed with him. She stayed purposefully out of his reach as he sat and watched with his animalistic gaze. Her dark hair was free, falling past her shoulders and lying silkily against her cheeks. Her white tank top was too short, bearing the most tantalizing hint of toned, tan stomach as she moved. Her faded black sweats hung low on her hips, her sexy curves swaying slightly with every step.
Dean sat with legs spread lazily (how very deceptive), one arm flung along the back of the couch and his knees almost pressed into her coffee table where his scattered research matter lay forgotten. The job was done, so he should be moving on to the next hunt, but he just couldn't bring himself to want to leave.
He watched Skye move and wanted her. He coveted, lecherously, possessively.
She belonged to him.
As though she knew the turn of his thoughts, Skye paused in perusing her music collection to smile suggestively at him from across the room.
He was only wearing a t-shirt and a pair of old jeans, but the room was suddenly hot. The jeans weren't fitting quite as loosely as they had a moment ago.
Skye blinked innocently (she toyed with him so well) and looked down at her CDs. "What do you want to listen to?"
Dean licked his lips and watched her fingers nimbly flip through the cases. "Anything that doesn't suck."
Skye smirked. She slowly peeled out of the oversized flannel, bearing her shoulders and arms.
Dean was too confident to shift in his seat. He didn't bother trying to rearrange his jeans in some feigned attempt to hide his hard on. He would have her see, have her know. All of him wanted her.
But he wouldn't jump up and take her. This was so much sweeter, the torture so exquisite to just watch her, long for her, and not launch himself at her.
Skye tossed the flannel aside and her eyes fell on him. His body flushed at the gaze.
Her eyes dropped unapologetically to his crotch, the jeans strained having to confine the erection pressing against the fly. It was uncomfortable as hell, but Dean wouldn't move a muscle to do anything about it. That was her move. Her right. Hers.
Skye's tongue darted out and raked briefly against her lips. Her eyes were dark.
Dean felt like a star about to go supernova, but he didn't do a thing to ease the pressure.
Skye turned back to her music, but she was distracted. He was distracting her. It was only fair. He was consumed by every inch of her, even from across the room.
"Maybe I should get some AC/DC…"
"Oh yeah?"
Skye shrugged. "Yeah. You've turned me on to them."
Dean began to smile, slow and sultry. "I turned you on, huh?"
Skye looked over at him, then at his groin.
Dean was dying to touch himself, to release some of that building tension, but he didn't move. Not because watching him do that would bother Skye. He knew it wouldn't. But this waiting, the anticipation, the silent roaring in the room of what he wanted - needed - her to do. It was beautiful torture.
"Of course you do," Skye answered, her voice lower than it had been a second ago.
Dean's heart jumped and a jolt of energy shot straight down his spine. He was determined to be the unflappable sex object, but if she didn't do something about the metal of his fly pressing into his dick he'd have to at least unzip.
Dean offered a smirk. "Likewise."
Skye lifted an eyebrow. "I noticed."
Of its own accord, Dean's second hand drifted to his thigh, coming dangerously close the tented denim. "Noticed, did you?"
"Mmm hmmm," Skye purred and watched his hand in rapt fascination.
Dean couldn't stop himself. His palm brushed against the tightness in his jeans. It made his head swim. Fuck, he needed to get off. Why was she doing this to him?
"So why aren't you over here?" he finally caved enough to ask.
Skye smiled, this time in amusement. "I was enjoying the view."
Dean groaned.
"And…" Skye took one step toward him. Just one. "I wanted to see just how much you could take."
Dean was fit to squirm like a little kid waiting for recess. He cupped himself lightly through his jeans. "I'm about at wits end," he confessed. What would it take to get her to touch him? Did he have to actually ask?
Skye went over to him. Dean felt her approach like a building storm, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up when she was looking down at him. Finally, he shifted on the couch.
She stared down into his eyes.
"You're beautiful," he blurted out. Immediately, he felt like a dork. That was the kind of sappy crap Sam would say to a woman out of the blue. Dean was usually cooler about everything when it came to women.
It seemed all the rules he used to live by went out the window when it came to Skye.
Skye just smiled. "So are you."
Dean frowned. "Men aren't beautiful."
Skye nudged his knee with one of her own and he obligingly spread his legs farther apart. Skye slowly knelt between his legs until he was looking down at her, not up. The new angle, the nearness of her to his erection, was going to drive him mad.
"You are," Skye insisted. She leaned into him, arms braced on the couch on either side of his hips, but still she didn't touch him.
Dean struggled for a decent breath and could smell her, that scent uniquely hers of pine and sunshine. "Okay, you win."
Skye smiled smugly. Then she brought up one hand and curled it around Dean's as it continued to cup himself. She drew it away slowly.
Dean was watching her like a hawk, his heart slamming in his chest.
She reached up and unfastened the button on his jeans. With agonizing slowness, she pulled down the zipper, each pair of interlocking metal teeth grinding so loudly in the quiet of the room as they freed their grip and let the denim part.
The relief to be free from the tight material of his pants was heady in itself and Dean sighed. His breath made Skye's hair flutter. She looked up at him, met his eyes with earth-shattering intensity, then she rose to her knees and delicately snaked her hand into his underwear and finally, at last, thank god, she wrapped her fingers around him.
Dean's head lolled back and his eyes closed in the ecstasy of her touch. He rocked on the cushion, slow, a rhythm against his conscious thoughts.
"Would you have done this yourself?" Skye asked huskily, her grip flexing around him, loosening up to tighten again just right.
Dean bit back another groan. "Mmmm… probably. But it's better when you do it."
She stroked and he gripped the couch cushion in a vice-like hold.
When she didn't rub the length of him again soon enough for his sanity, he gently thrust up into her hand. He had meant to just sit there and let her control everything, but he just couldn't help himself with her.
She stroked again and he gasped, breath catching and body shaking.
"Dean…"
All he could manage was a garbled moan.
Skye laughed affectionately. It was just as sexy as her hand on him and he rocked into her again. His neck was bared, head thrown back.
"Dean… look at me. I want to see you."
Dean clenched his teeth together. The only reason he was maintaining the barest hint of control was because he wasn't looking at her. The touch of her was almost too much, but to see her, too… he'd go right over the edge.
"Skye…" he groaned, "the second I look at you, I'm done for."
Skye laughed at his confession of weakness, and Dean trembled at the sound washing over him. Was there anything about her that wasn't beautiful?
Then her hand was gone, and Dean whimpered at the loss of her touch. He was rigid and taut, ready to explode. He wanted to open his eyes, look for her, but he took a moment to catch his breath, to try and control himself. No woman had driven him wild quite like Skye.
Then he startled when her hands slid up his shoulders. He finally had to look. She was leaning into him, her face inches from his. He got lost a moment in her eyes.
Then she was climbing into his lap, straddling him, and when Dean's hands came up to her hips on reflex he was met with naked flesh. When she'd pulled away she'd stripped from the waist down.
He could die right then, and he'd be happy.
Dean wrapped his arms around her, drew her close, and Skye nestled on to his lap. She found him blindly, shifting her hips this way then that, until they were touching, at the threshold, and she sank down slowly.
As he slid into her Dean clutched her to him, his face pressed into her breasts.
He loved watching her get there with him, driving to the brink of madness just like him, but he knew he wasn't going to last long. He hated himself for how close he was. He'd want to share that moment with Skye.
She started to rock and Dean grabbed her hips, so tight he knew he'd probably leave bruises. "Ah… Skye… wait…" It was agony to stop her, to try to slow down his building explosion, but damnit, he wanted her there, too.
"Why?" Skye asked breathily, sounding petulant. She didn't see any reason to stop or take it slower. He loved that about her.
"Because… fuck, I'm there…"
"I know," she whispered in his ear, the warmth of her breath and the scrape of her teeth on his earlobe nearly enough to undo him.
"Stop… wait for you…" he croaked at great pains. Why did she have to wait until now to do this?
"Dean."
He opened his eyes again and drew back to look up at her. She greeted him with a dreamy smile, then kissed him. He clung to her hips, desperate to let her move but needing to hold her still.
Her lips left his and she gazed down at him. She was drinking in the sight of him. Her hand came up to thread through his hair. His heart skipped a beat, he was pretty sure of it, and would never admit it to a living soul.
Skye rode up and down his length and Dean lost the strength to stop her. He groaned and lifted his hips to meet her, burying himself deeper.
When she saw he'd given in, Skye picked up the pace. Dean was helpless, at her mercy. Hers. In every vulnerable way.
He had been telling her the truth. When she straddled him he was already on the brink of meltdown. Skye only managed three rises and falls before Dean came, exploding at last and a ragged cry tearing from his throat. He fought for breath, for a coherent thought, and when he had one he pulled Skye into him. He held her tightly, close, buried in her, lost in her.
Skye was stroking his hair, so warm and soft and strong against him.
Dean never felt weak with a woman the way he did with Skye. And oddly enough, being weak in that moment didn't bother him. Not with Skye.
He loosened his hold on her, pulled back to look up into her face. She was flushed and aroused but satisfied to see him reach climax. She would have hers later, they both knew that. Dean wouldn't neglect her.
Dean stared up into her eyes. They were ringed with gold. He could feel that his were, too. Wolves were close to humans, then. The power of the coupling beyond human limits, edging into the realm of beasts.
Skye touched his face, softly, almost reverently. She leaned into him. He thought she was going to kiss him again. But she stopped just shy, her lips brushing his. "I love you, Dean," she whispered.
He drew back to look up at her and blinked, shocked. His heart jumped into his throat. Women had said that to him before, of course, but it had never really struck him to the core. This time it did. Skye did.
He gazed up at her, captivated by her. He couldn't imagine how he had ever known joy before her. "I love you, too," he whispered hoarsely. And he was shocked as hell to know he meant it. He did love her.
Skye smiled gently at him and leaned into him, resting against his chest.
Dean held her and optimistically hoped he could find a way, somehow, to hold her forever.
END
Author: MissAnnThropic
Spoilers: set in the Skyeverse (surrounding my fic "Wild by Skye")
Summary: She was just as much hunter as prey, and Dean knew it. He reveled in it. It felt exhilarating to be hunted by Skye. Not for the kiddies!!
Timeline: Go here for a chronological listing of Skyeverse fics to know where exactly this falls in the timeline. Or, you know, just read the fic and figure it out! Or eat pie. I know which one Dean would vote for.
Disclaimer: None of it's mine. I'm just a sad little fangirl that spends her days writing fanfic and watching DVDs of her favorite shows :(
********************
He watched her like a hunter watched prey. He was reclining on the couch in her small but cozy house, his eyes following her every move. She couldn't breathe without him knowing it.
Dean's slouch was misleading. He was far from inert. Far from care-free and nonchalant. He was a live wire, a stalker ready to pounce. If she ventured too close to where he sat, she'd be his.
Skye knew that. Her looks were telling. She moved around her living room, barefoot in her sweat pants, tank top, and Dean's flannel. Her eyes moved repeatedly to him, and the look was heated.
She was just as much hunter as prey, and Dean knew it. He reveled in it. It felt exhilarating to be hunted by Skye.
She toyed with him. She stayed purposefully out of his reach as he sat and watched with his animalistic gaze. Her dark hair was free, falling past her shoulders and lying silkily against her cheeks. Her white tank top was too short, bearing the most tantalizing hint of toned, tan stomach as she moved. Her faded black sweats hung low on her hips, her sexy curves swaying slightly with every step.
Dean sat with legs spread lazily (how very deceptive), one arm flung along the back of the couch and his knees almost pressed into her coffee table where his scattered research matter lay forgotten. The job was done, so he should be moving on to the next hunt, but he just couldn't bring himself to want to leave.
He watched Skye move and wanted her. He coveted, lecherously, possessively.
She belonged to him.
As though she knew the turn of his thoughts, Skye paused in perusing her music collection to smile suggestively at him from across the room.
He was only wearing a t-shirt and a pair of old jeans, but the room was suddenly hot. The jeans weren't fitting quite as loosely as they had a moment ago.
Skye blinked innocently (she toyed with him so well) and looked down at her CDs. "What do you want to listen to?"
Dean licked his lips and watched her fingers nimbly flip through the cases. "Anything that doesn't suck."
Skye smirked. She slowly peeled out of the oversized flannel, bearing her shoulders and arms.
Dean was too confident to shift in his seat. He didn't bother trying to rearrange his jeans in some feigned attempt to hide his hard on. He would have her see, have her know. All of him wanted her.
But he wouldn't jump up and take her. This was so much sweeter, the torture so exquisite to just watch her, long for her, and not launch himself at her.
Skye tossed the flannel aside and her eyes fell on him. His body flushed at the gaze.
Her eyes dropped unapologetically to his crotch, the jeans strained having to confine the erection pressing against the fly. It was uncomfortable as hell, but Dean wouldn't move a muscle to do anything about it. That was her move. Her right. Hers.
Skye's tongue darted out and raked briefly against her lips. Her eyes were dark.
Dean felt like a star about to go supernova, but he didn't do a thing to ease the pressure.
Skye turned back to her music, but she was distracted. He was distracting her. It was only fair. He was consumed by every inch of her, even from across the room.
"Maybe I should get some AC/DC…"
"Oh yeah?"
Skye shrugged. "Yeah. You've turned me on to them."
Dean began to smile, slow and sultry. "I turned you on, huh?"
Skye looked over at him, then at his groin.
Dean was dying to touch himself, to release some of that building tension, but he didn't move. Not because watching him do that would bother Skye. He knew it wouldn't. But this waiting, the anticipation, the silent roaring in the room of what he wanted - needed - her to do. It was beautiful torture.
"Of course you do," Skye answered, her voice lower than it had been a second ago.
Dean's heart jumped and a jolt of energy shot straight down his spine. He was determined to be the unflappable sex object, but if she didn't do something about the metal of his fly pressing into his dick he'd have to at least unzip.
Dean offered a smirk. "Likewise."
Skye lifted an eyebrow. "I noticed."
Of its own accord, Dean's second hand drifted to his thigh, coming dangerously close the tented denim. "Noticed, did you?"
"Mmm hmmm," Skye purred and watched his hand in rapt fascination.
Dean couldn't stop himself. His palm brushed against the tightness in his jeans. It made his head swim. Fuck, he needed to get off. Why was she doing this to him?
"So why aren't you over here?" he finally caved enough to ask.
Skye smiled, this time in amusement. "I was enjoying the view."
Dean groaned.
"And…" Skye took one step toward him. Just one. "I wanted to see just how much you could take."
Dean was fit to squirm like a little kid waiting for recess. He cupped himself lightly through his jeans. "I'm about at wits end," he confessed. What would it take to get her to touch him? Did he have to actually ask?
Skye went over to him. Dean felt her approach like a building storm, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up when she was looking down at him. Finally, he shifted on the couch.
She stared down into his eyes.
"You're beautiful," he blurted out. Immediately, he felt like a dork. That was the kind of sappy crap Sam would say to a woman out of the blue. Dean was usually cooler about everything when it came to women.
It seemed all the rules he used to live by went out the window when it came to Skye.
Skye just smiled. "So are you."
Dean frowned. "Men aren't beautiful."
Skye nudged his knee with one of her own and he obligingly spread his legs farther apart. Skye slowly knelt between his legs until he was looking down at her, not up. The new angle, the nearness of her to his erection, was going to drive him mad.
"You are," Skye insisted. She leaned into him, arms braced on the couch on either side of his hips, but still she didn't touch him.
Dean struggled for a decent breath and could smell her, that scent uniquely hers of pine and sunshine. "Okay, you win."
Skye smiled smugly. Then she brought up one hand and curled it around Dean's as it continued to cup himself. She drew it away slowly.
Dean was watching her like a hawk, his heart slamming in his chest.
She reached up and unfastened the button on his jeans. With agonizing slowness, she pulled down the zipper, each pair of interlocking metal teeth grinding so loudly in the quiet of the room as they freed their grip and let the denim part.
The relief to be free from the tight material of his pants was heady in itself and Dean sighed. His breath made Skye's hair flutter. She looked up at him, met his eyes with earth-shattering intensity, then she rose to her knees and delicately snaked her hand into his underwear and finally, at last, thank god, she wrapped her fingers around him.
Dean's head lolled back and his eyes closed in the ecstasy of her touch. He rocked on the cushion, slow, a rhythm against his conscious thoughts.
"Would you have done this yourself?" Skye asked huskily, her grip flexing around him, loosening up to tighten again just right.
Dean bit back another groan. "Mmmm… probably. But it's better when you do it."
She stroked and he gripped the couch cushion in a vice-like hold.
When she didn't rub the length of him again soon enough for his sanity, he gently thrust up into her hand. He had meant to just sit there and let her control everything, but he just couldn't help himself with her.
She stroked again and he gasped, breath catching and body shaking.
"Dean…"
All he could manage was a garbled moan.
Skye laughed affectionately. It was just as sexy as her hand on him and he rocked into her again. His neck was bared, head thrown back.
"Dean… look at me. I want to see you."
Dean clenched his teeth together. The only reason he was maintaining the barest hint of control was because he wasn't looking at her. The touch of her was almost too much, but to see her, too… he'd go right over the edge.
"Skye…" he groaned, "the second I look at you, I'm done for."
Skye laughed at his confession of weakness, and Dean trembled at the sound washing over him. Was there anything about her that wasn't beautiful?
Then her hand was gone, and Dean whimpered at the loss of her touch. He was rigid and taut, ready to explode. He wanted to open his eyes, look for her, but he took a moment to catch his breath, to try and control himself. No woman had driven him wild quite like Skye.
Then he startled when her hands slid up his shoulders. He finally had to look. She was leaning into him, her face inches from his. He got lost a moment in her eyes.
Then she was climbing into his lap, straddling him, and when Dean's hands came up to her hips on reflex he was met with naked flesh. When she'd pulled away she'd stripped from the waist down.
He could die right then, and he'd be happy.
Dean wrapped his arms around her, drew her close, and Skye nestled on to his lap. She found him blindly, shifting her hips this way then that, until they were touching, at the threshold, and she sank down slowly.
As he slid into her Dean clutched her to him, his face pressed into her breasts.
He loved watching her get there with him, driving to the brink of madness just like him, but he knew he wasn't going to last long. He hated himself for how close he was. He'd want to share that moment with Skye.
She started to rock and Dean grabbed her hips, so tight he knew he'd probably leave bruises. "Ah… Skye… wait…" It was agony to stop her, to try to slow down his building explosion, but damnit, he wanted her there, too.
"Why?" Skye asked breathily, sounding petulant. She didn't see any reason to stop or take it slower. He loved that about her.
"Because… fuck, I'm there…"
"I know," she whispered in his ear, the warmth of her breath and the scrape of her teeth on his earlobe nearly enough to undo him.
"Stop… wait for you…" he croaked at great pains. Why did she have to wait until now to do this?
"Dean."
He opened his eyes again and drew back to look up at her. She greeted him with a dreamy smile, then kissed him. He clung to her hips, desperate to let her move but needing to hold her still.
Her lips left his and she gazed down at him. She was drinking in the sight of him. Her hand came up to thread through his hair. His heart skipped a beat, he was pretty sure of it, and would never admit it to a living soul.
Skye rode up and down his length and Dean lost the strength to stop her. He groaned and lifted his hips to meet her, burying himself deeper.
When she saw he'd given in, Skye picked up the pace. Dean was helpless, at her mercy. Hers. In every vulnerable way.
He had been telling her the truth. When she straddled him he was already on the brink of meltdown. Skye only managed three rises and falls before Dean came, exploding at last and a ragged cry tearing from his throat. He fought for breath, for a coherent thought, and when he had one he pulled Skye into him. He held her tightly, close, buried in her, lost in her.
Skye was stroking his hair, so warm and soft and strong against him.
Dean never felt weak with a woman the way he did with Skye. And oddly enough, being weak in that moment didn't bother him. Not with Skye.
He loosened his hold on her, pulled back to look up into her face. She was flushed and aroused but satisfied to see him reach climax. She would have hers later, they both knew that. Dean wouldn't neglect her.
Dean stared up into her eyes. They were ringed with gold. He could feel that his were, too. Wolves were close to humans, then. The power of the coupling beyond human limits, edging into the realm of beasts.
Skye touched his face, softly, almost reverently. She leaned into him. He thought she was going to kiss him again. But she stopped just shy, her lips brushing his. "I love you, Dean," she whispered.
He drew back to look up at her and blinked, shocked. His heart jumped into his throat. Women had said that to him before, of course, but it had never really struck him to the core. This time it did. Skye did.
He gazed up at her, captivated by her. He couldn't imagine how he had ever known joy before her. "I love you, too," he whispered hoarsely. And he was shocked as hell to know he meant it. He did love her.
Skye smiled gently at him and leaned into him, resting against his chest.
Dean held her and optimistically hoped he could find a way, somehow, to hold her forever.
END