shed your skin and let's get started
So this fic is intended to be some sort of musing on sex and death and grief. Basically it's 2,000 words of Dean and Lisa fucking. Also - all these codas have been written after Swan Song, and dead brothers and absent angels get more bed time with Dean than Lisa. I had to show a (fictional) sister some love. If I write it, she will come. or something.
Title is from the classic Aussie song Throw your arms around me by Mark Seymour, a song about love and sex and loss.
That first night Dean doesn’t say much. There’s been some sort of battle; his brother is dead. Even before he finishes a six pack and the fifth of whiskey he’s bought with him, he isn’t making much sense.
Eventually Lisa leads him into her bedroom and they undress in a silence that isn’t entirely comfortable. Lisa trusts her gut instinct about Dean, but she is still fighting to ignore the voice in her head -- the one that sounds suspiciously like her mother -- asking her what the hell she is doing with this man she barely knows.
Dean looks almost embarrassed as he stands in his boxers in the shadows by the window. She can just make out a tattoo over his heart and a big angry welt high on his left arm; both additions since she’d last seen him naked a decade ago.
"Maybe...I can sleep on the sofa." His words are only a bit slurred.
"Oh Dean..." Lisa climbs into bed, and tosses back the covers. A thought strikes her. "Unless you want to? I mean that’s okay, if you want to be alone."
"No," says Dean, his voice very small. "I really don’t."
He crawls in beside her and Lisa holds him again as she had when he’d arrived. Dean feels light in her arms and she feels a chill for a moment as she wonders what atrocity must’ve occurred to hollow the very center from him. She pulls him close, holds him tight, and whispers that everything will be alright. She doesn’t think he believes that anymore than she does.
When he kisses her, his mouth is sour with the taste of booze and Lisa feels as if she is swallowing bits of his grief. She moves her body against his, trying to block the sadness with other sensations. Dean takes her cue and lifts her hair up, pressing his lips in a line down her neck -- light kisses and licks -- while he runs his fingertips lightly up and down her spine.
Lisa is surprised to find herself aroused so quickly; she is already wet when she feels Dean’s hand between her thighs. He works slowly, pressing just inside her cunt and sliding two fingers back and forth, spreading the juice over her lips and mound. She draws his mouth back to hers, sucking at his tongue and biting at his lips as he strokes her clit. A moan growls from her as she hitches a leg over his hip to give him better access.
Lisa pants against Dean’s mouth yes, please, more until he works faster at her. Desperate desire overcomes her; she thrusts hard against his hand, trying to direct his pressure to the right spot. They find it together and she comes, arching against him and moving through her orgasm almost as quickly as she’d got to it.
After a moment, Lisa turns and fishes around in the draw of the bedside table, until she snags a condom. She slips her hand inside Dean’s shorts, finds him soft and starts working him, trying to coax him hard. Eventually, Dean takes her by the wrist and draws her hand away.
"Sorry. Too much to drink. Not gonna happen."
Lisa starts to move down the bed. "It’s okay Dean, I can… Just let me..."
Dean grips her hand, stopping her.
"No, I can’t... not tonight. Just -- not tonight."
***
Not tonight turns out to mean not tomorrow night, or the five nights after that. Dean seems to either sleep like the dead or not sleep at all, turned away from her on the edge of the bed. He becomes more withdrawn, and is drinking enough that it starts to worry her.
A couple of times she wakes during the night to find the bed empty. She thinks maybe he’s moved to the sofa, but each time she finds him out the front of the house, sitting in the passenger seat of his car. She watches him for a while, robe pulled tight around her against the night cold, and then she goes back to bed alone.
They have sex a couple of times, although Dean seems more and more disconnected from her. Once when he is fucking her distractedly, rocking into her with short shallow thrusts, she is reminded of when Ben was a toddler and he’d hump his teddy bear when he went down for his afternoon nap.
***
On a Friday, a couple of weeks since he arrived, after spending an evening of shooting aliens with Ben as they played one of his video games, he turns to her in bed and they kiss slowly, deliciously, for a long time.
Lisa enjoys exploring his body, tentatively touching the burn mark on his shoulder that looks bizarrely like a handprint and tracing her tongue around his tattoo, which makes him shiver under her. This time when she reaches for him, he thickens quickly and Lisa feels her cunt ache in anticipation.
"Want you in me, Dean. Want to feel this cock ..."
He comes in a couple of spurts over her hand.
"Shit. Sorry. Sorry." He gropes around ‘til he finds his t-shirt beside the bed, and the wipes her hand and his belly clean.
"S’okay," She kisses him, laughing quietly. "Don’t know my own strength."
"Yeah? Think you’re that good?" He gets up and kneels by the side of the bed. "I have a few tricks of my own you know."
"What, you going pray for me?" she teases.
Dean rocks back on his heels, and while in the dim light Lisa can’t see Dean’s face, she can sense something shift in him.
"Believe me, that’s the last thing I would ever do." He’s quiet for a moment, and then he seems to shake off what ever had come over him. "Now c’mere, show me. Show me how wet you are."
Lisa pushes the comforter aside and moves around on the bed until she is in the right position. She feels wanton as she spreads her legs for him, running her fingers along her lips, and then dipping one inside herself. She doesn’t try to put on a show, just loses herself in the feeling as if she were alone, until she opens her eyes, and can see from the movement of Dean’s shoulders that he is jerking himself while he watches her. Propping up on one elbow so he can see, she sucks her fingers clean.
"Taste’s good too."
"Damn woman." He moves forward, hand sliding along her legs, tipping her knees further apart. He starts kissing when he gets to her thighs, occasionally catching her flesh softly between his teeth. Dean takes his time, making appreciative sounds as he catches the taste of her juice, sucking at her lips until they are plump and swollen. Slowly he starts to concentrate his efforts and as he sucks her clit hard, she thrusts her hips up, fucking into his mouth.
When she feels his fingers push into her and drag back along the front wall of her cunt, she has to bite at her bottom lip so as not to say something likely very blasphemous and very loud. Ben is not wholly unfamiliar with the fact that his mom has sex, but she isn’t keen to provide him with a stereophonic soundtrack of it.
It isn’t easy though, as Dean seems to sense every time she goes close to coming and then backs off a bit, pausing to lick up the wetness coating her, slowing the pace of his fingers inside her to a maddening stroke that is somewhere between exquisite and tickly. She isn’t sure if Dean’s aim is to make her come, or kill her outright with pleasure.
Lisa decides either way is fine with her.
***
She isn’t sure what’s going on between them. It’s not a romance, or friends with benefits. Some of it feels like a relationship; other bits more like a friendship. More than anything, to Lisa, something about it feels like family.
Dean is pretty good at maintaining his composure, keeping things repressed; although even someone who didn’t know him would pick up on his quiet, somber mood. Lisa finds it easier to read his body than his words. The sex, well that’s like subtitles she thinks, helping her translate Winchester into some language she can start to understand. She doesn’t know if she’ll ever be fluent in it. Doesn’t know that she wants to, given the only story it tells seems so dark.
***
They lie facing each other, and Dean is talkative for once, relating some incredible and silly tale about an unlucky rabbit’s foot. They both laugh, but when she leans into kiss him, she finds his cheeks wet with tears. She holds him close and kisses them away, all the while feeling his chest hitch, and his breath stutter as he whispers something like "Forgive me."
Lisa doesn’t think the apology is meant for her.
***
She wakes suddenly, as if from a bad dream with her heart hammering in her chest. Next to her Dean is sitting up, breath shallow and quick, and muttering expletives under his breath.
"… cocksucker stay out of my motherfucking dreams...Not fucking part of it anymore."
"Dean?" Lisa places a hand on his hip. “You okay?"
When he looks at her, she gets the feeling it takes him a moment to remember where he is -- or who she is.
"What? Ummm… yeah." He wipes a hand over his face, and takes in a deep, shuddering gulp of air.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"No," Dean gives a harsh laugh. “Fuck ‘em. Not going to think about them. There’s only one thing they could do for me and they can’t - or won’t. Rather think about you..."
Dean runs the back of his fingers over her cheek, and then he kisses her as if he is hungry for something, desperate to find in her the taste of an answer. He searches for it all over her body, fingers pressing into the flesh of her thighs, his mouth sucking hard marks across her breasts. Dean bites into her shoulder as he fingers her open and in return Lisa rakes her nails sharply down his back.
He’s not quite hard yet, so Lisa wraps her hand around his cock, working him with a slow stroke and a twist of her wrist. She loves this -- taking him from soft to hard, savoring the sensation of his cock growing heavy in her mouth. Soon he gently pulls back and rolls on the condom with practiced efficiency.
Dean settles between her legs, pushes her knees up and leans on his elbows, holding his body a hairsbreadth from hers. His breath plays softly across her lips as he says, "Thank you Lisa. For everything. I know I haven’t been… This can’t have been easy for you."
Lisa doesn’t quite know what to say - it hasn’t been easy but there was never any question that she would turn him away.
"I don’t know if I can give you what you need Dean," she leans up and presses her lips to his. "But you will always have a place here."
As he kisses her back, he pushes into her, stretching her, stopping when he is barely an inch inside her. Lisa wraps her legs over the small of his back, heels resting on the rise of his ass, and she cants her hips up, squeezing her cunt around him, trying to draw him in deeper. He holds still, refusing to enter her further.
Finally, his mouth near her ear, she can just make out the words as he whispers: "Are you sure you want this?"
Lisa isn’t clear whether he’s talking about fucking him, or him living with them, or something else. She isn’t even sure if it’s her Dean is asking the question of. So maybe she’s answering for both of them when she answers.
"Yes."
Title is from the classic Aussie song Throw your arms around me by Mark Seymour, a song about love and sex and loss.
That first night Dean doesn’t say much. There’s been some sort of battle; his brother is dead. Even before he finishes a six pack and the fifth of whiskey he’s bought with him, he isn’t making much sense.
Eventually Lisa leads him into her bedroom and they undress in a silence that isn’t entirely comfortable. Lisa trusts her gut instinct about Dean, but she is still fighting to ignore the voice in her head -- the one that sounds suspiciously like her mother -- asking her what the hell she is doing with this man she barely knows.
Dean looks almost embarrassed as he stands in his boxers in the shadows by the window. She can just make out a tattoo over his heart and a big angry welt high on his left arm; both additions since she’d last seen him naked a decade ago.
"Maybe...I can sleep on the sofa." His words are only a bit slurred.
"Oh Dean..." Lisa climbs into bed, and tosses back the covers. A thought strikes her. "Unless you want to? I mean that’s okay, if you want to be alone."
"No," says Dean, his voice very small. "I really don’t."
He crawls in beside her and Lisa holds him again as she had when he’d arrived. Dean feels light in her arms and she feels a chill for a moment as she wonders what atrocity must’ve occurred to hollow the very center from him. She pulls him close, holds him tight, and whispers that everything will be alright. She doesn’t think he believes that anymore than she does.
When he kisses her, his mouth is sour with the taste of booze and Lisa feels as if she is swallowing bits of his grief. She moves her body against his, trying to block the sadness with other sensations. Dean takes her cue and lifts her hair up, pressing his lips in a line down her neck -- light kisses and licks -- while he runs his fingertips lightly up and down her spine.
Lisa is surprised to find herself aroused so quickly; she is already wet when she feels Dean’s hand between her thighs. He works slowly, pressing just inside her cunt and sliding two fingers back and forth, spreading the juice over her lips and mound. She draws his mouth back to hers, sucking at his tongue and biting at his lips as he strokes her clit. A moan growls from her as she hitches a leg over his hip to give him better access.
Lisa pants against Dean’s mouth yes, please, more until he works faster at her. Desperate desire overcomes her; she thrusts hard against his hand, trying to direct his pressure to the right spot. They find it together and she comes, arching against him and moving through her orgasm almost as quickly as she’d got to it.
After a moment, Lisa turns and fishes around in the draw of the bedside table, until she snags a condom. She slips her hand inside Dean’s shorts, finds him soft and starts working him, trying to coax him hard. Eventually, Dean takes her by the wrist and draws her hand away.
"Sorry. Too much to drink. Not gonna happen."
Lisa starts to move down the bed. "It’s okay Dean, I can… Just let me..."
Dean grips her hand, stopping her.
"No, I can’t... not tonight. Just -- not tonight."
***
Not tonight turns out to mean not tomorrow night, or the five nights after that. Dean seems to either sleep like the dead or not sleep at all, turned away from her on the edge of the bed. He becomes more withdrawn, and is drinking enough that it starts to worry her.
A couple of times she wakes during the night to find the bed empty. She thinks maybe he’s moved to the sofa, but each time she finds him out the front of the house, sitting in the passenger seat of his car. She watches him for a while, robe pulled tight around her against the night cold, and then she goes back to bed alone.
They have sex a couple of times, although Dean seems more and more disconnected from her. Once when he is fucking her distractedly, rocking into her with short shallow thrusts, she is reminded of when Ben was a toddler and he’d hump his teddy bear when he went down for his afternoon nap.
***
On a Friday, a couple of weeks since he arrived, after spending an evening of shooting aliens with Ben as they played one of his video games, he turns to her in bed and they kiss slowly, deliciously, for a long time.
Lisa enjoys exploring his body, tentatively touching the burn mark on his shoulder that looks bizarrely like a handprint and tracing her tongue around his tattoo, which makes him shiver under her. This time when she reaches for him, he thickens quickly and Lisa feels her cunt ache in anticipation.
"Want you in me, Dean. Want to feel this cock ..."
He comes in a couple of spurts over her hand.
"Shit. Sorry. Sorry." He gropes around ‘til he finds his t-shirt beside the bed, and the wipes her hand and his belly clean.
"S’okay," She kisses him, laughing quietly. "Don’t know my own strength."
"Yeah? Think you’re that good?" He gets up and kneels by the side of the bed. "I have a few tricks of my own you know."
"What, you going pray for me?" she teases.
Dean rocks back on his heels, and while in the dim light Lisa can’t see Dean’s face, she can sense something shift in him.
"Believe me, that’s the last thing I would ever do." He’s quiet for a moment, and then he seems to shake off what ever had come over him. "Now c’mere, show me. Show me how wet you are."
Lisa pushes the comforter aside and moves around on the bed until she is in the right position. She feels wanton as she spreads her legs for him, running her fingers along her lips, and then dipping one inside herself. She doesn’t try to put on a show, just loses herself in the feeling as if she were alone, until she opens her eyes, and can see from the movement of Dean’s shoulders that he is jerking himself while he watches her. Propping up on one elbow so he can see, she sucks her fingers clean.
"Taste’s good too."
"Damn woman." He moves forward, hand sliding along her legs, tipping her knees further apart. He starts kissing when he gets to her thighs, occasionally catching her flesh softly between his teeth. Dean takes his time, making appreciative sounds as he catches the taste of her juice, sucking at her lips until they are plump and swollen. Slowly he starts to concentrate his efforts and as he sucks her clit hard, she thrusts her hips up, fucking into his mouth.
When she feels his fingers push into her and drag back along the front wall of her cunt, she has to bite at her bottom lip so as not to say something likely very blasphemous and very loud. Ben is not wholly unfamiliar with the fact that his mom has sex, but she isn’t keen to provide him with a stereophonic soundtrack of it.
It isn’t easy though, as Dean seems to sense every time she goes close to coming and then backs off a bit, pausing to lick up the wetness coating her, slowing the pace of his fingers inside her to a maddening stroke that is somewhere between exquisite and tickly. She isn’t sure if Dean’s aim is to make her come, or kill her outright with pleasure.
Lisa decides either way is fine with her.
***
She isn’t sure what’s going on between them. It’s not a romance, or friends with benefits. Some of it feels like a relationship; other bits more like a friendship. More than anything, to Lisa, something about it feels like family.
Dean is pretty good at maintaining his composure, keeping things repressed; although even someone who didn’t know him would pick up on his quiet, somber mood. Lisa finds it easier to read his body than his words. The sex, well that’s like subtitles she thinks, helping her translate Winchester into some language she can start to understand. She doesn’t know if she’ll ever be fluent in it. Doesn’t know that she wants to, given the only story it tells seems so dark.
***
They lie facing each other, and Dean is talkative for once, relating some incredible and silly tale about an unlucky rabbit’s foot. They both laugh, but when she leans into kiss him, she finds his cheeks wet with tears. She holds him close and kisses them away, all the while feeling his chest hitch, and his breath stutter as he whispers something like "Forgive me."
Lisa doesn’t think the apology is meant for her.
***
She wakes suddenly, as if from a bad dream with her heart hammering in her chest. Next to her Dean is sitting up, breath shallow and quick, and muttering expletives under his breath.
"… cocksucker stay out of my motherfucking dreams...Not fucking part of it anymore."
"Dean?" Lisa places a hand on his hip. “You okay?"
When he looks at her, she gets the feeling it takes him a moment to remember where he is -- or who she is.
"What? Ummm… yeah." He wipes a hand over his face, and takes in a deep, shuddering gulp of air.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"No," Dean gives a harsh laugh. “Fuck ‘em. Not going to think about them. There’s only one thing they could do for me and they can’t - or won’t. Rather think about you..."
Dean runs the back of his fingers over her cheek, and then he kisses her as if he is hungry for something, desperate to find in her the taste of an answer. He searches for it all over her body, fingers pressing into the flesh of her thighs, his mouth sucking hard marks across her breasts. Dean bites into her shoulder as he fingers her open and in return Lisa rakes her nails sharply down his back.
He’s not quite hard yet, so Lisa wraps her hand around his cock, working him with a slow stroke and a twist of her wrist. She loves this -- taking him from soft to hard, savoring the sensation of his cock growing heavy in her mouth. Soon he gently pulls back and rolls on the condom with practiced efficiency.
Dean settles between her legs, pushes her knees up and leans on his elbows, holding his body a hairsbreadth from hers. His breath plays softly across her lips as he says, "Thank you Lisa. For everything. I know I haven’t been… This can’t have been easy for you."
Lisa doesn’t quite know what to say - it hasn’t been easy but there was never any question that she would turn him away.
"I don’t know if I can give you what you need Dean," she leans up and presses her lips to his. "But you will always have a place here."
As he kisses her back, he pushes into her, stretching her, stopping when he is barely an inch inside her. Lisa wraps her legs over the small of his back, heels resting on the rise of his ass, and she cants her hips up, squeezing her cunt around him, trying to draw him in deeper. He holds still, refusing to enter her further.
Finally, his mouth near her ear, she can just make out the words as he whispers: "Are you sure you want this?"
Lisa isn’t clear whether he’s talking about fucking him, or him living with them, or something else. She isn’t even sure if it’s her Dean is asking the question of. So maybe she’s answering for both of them when she answers.
"Yes."