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Dean: Alright, get it out – I look ridiculous.
Bela: Not exactly the word I'd use.
Dean: What?
Bela: You know, when this is over, we should really have angry sеx.
Dean: Don't objectify me.
Bela had always acknowledged that Dean was an attractive man, honestly all the Winchesters men were. But when Dean came down the stairs in the tuxedo, her heart skipped a beat. Everything else just melted like butter.
She remembered the first time she saw him dressed in one of his rugged pair of jeans, scuffed-up boots, and his signature plaid flannel shirt. That image, the classic bad boy from the wrong side of the tracks, heated up the reckless part of her that chased after forbidden things, just like a dangerous artifact or a supernatural weapon. And Dean was a dangerous weapon. In her past, a younger, more careless version of herself, she hooked up with this type of guy, who she’d have sex in a bathroom stall at a nightclub or the back of a car. Then they would walk away and forget each other completely. She would never bring them home into her own space. But now things were different; she was different, and she wasn’t interested in risk in her personal life, just professional.
Bela had never been an easy conquest, and she was even harder to win over now. She expected men to chase her, and there weren’t any more random hookups. In fact, it was unusual for her to sleep with anyone, except sometimes a client who had the right pedigree with wealth, sophistication, ambition, and intelligence. All the qualities that Dean didn’t have. She didn’t work her way up in her profession to lower herself by sleeping with the wrong man. Dean was one of those wrong men, a serial killer after revenge. One more pretty deadbeat.
However, seeing Dean shed his usual redneck attire for a tux made Bela realize she could teach him, mold him to be someone worthy of attention. Bela teased him with the thought of angry sex. He feigned disinterest, but she could see through him and his subtle glance at her.
Dean continued to surprise her when she found out he wasn’t stupid like she had initially assumed, back when she wanted to treat him like a grade A piece of ass. After all, it wasn’t as if men didn’t objectify women in the same way, and she was guilty of doing the same with Dean. He’d jokingly called her on it earlier, not even knowing how close he was the truth.
But tonight marked a turning point for Bela. He risked his life to defend her from the ghost, stepping in and taking the brunt of the attack from it. Despite his frequent angry words against her, he held her in the pouring rain, shielding her from harm. She couldn’t help but question her assumptions. Perhaps Sam and Dean did selflessly help people, or despite everything she had put him through, Dean didn’t hate her as much as she thought.
After they left the cemetery, Dean invited her inside the abandoned house the guys were squatting in. Both he and Sam started stripping off their wet layers as soon as they entered the house, right in the living room. Bela shivered so badly her teeth chattered, catching Dean’s attention. Without a word, he handed her a towel to dry off.
“I have a shirt you can wear, or a jacket. Some sweats?” Dean offered, his tone not really friendly, but not unkind.
“Please. I’m freezing.” When he handed her the clothes, she instinctively smelled them without thinking, quickly regretting the gesture as she saw Dean narrow his eyes in response. She tried to change the subject. “Where can I…”
Dean pointed down the hall. With that, his demeanor shifted back to his usual indifferent self. “The bathroom is back there. Feel free to disinfect it if you need to. Pretty sure there is Lysol or something.” She had made him angry.
While Sam went to get coffee, Bela finished towel-drying her hair and checked herself in the mirror. She called out Dean’s name. A few moments later, he came into the bathroom, and she smoothed her hair over her shoulder, exposing her neck. “Can you help me with the buttons?” she asked teasingly, knowing full well that the shirt could have been pulled off without his help, but where was the fun in that?
Dean appeared annoyed; however, he did as he was asked and began unbuttoning the buttons. Halfway through, he observed softly, “It’s amazing how you put on the shirt all by yourself, isn’t it? This pullover with its basically decorative buttons.”
Bela smiled, impressed by his dry wit, and turned to face him. She removed the shirt, setting it down on the sink, leaving only her black silk and lace bra, her boobs overflowing the wet fabric clinging to her skin. Dean’s gaze lingered on her, skimming down her body, before she reached up, grabbed his jaw with one hand, a little rougher than necessary, and pulled him to her into a kiss. He surprised her when he literally slapped her hand away, forcing her to step back, causing her to rethink what she was doing.
Dean shook his head slightly. His eyes had a gleam of wickedness in them. “You’re not going to manhandle me. You always want control. You need it, don’t you, Bela? You probably think if we have sex, you’d be doing me a favor.” He wagged his finger at her and clucked his tongue. “Let me guess; you only sleep with the rich professional sort of guy, who knows his way around the boardroom, but not the bedroom. I have never set foot in a boardroom. They might need your help, your instructions. I don’t. Take off your bra.”
Almost everything in her wanted to slap him and leave. The audacity! This was not the Dean Winchester she had made a fool of several times before, as recently as earlier tonight. She stepped back and reconsidered everything. Dean chuckled, turning as if to leave the bathroom. Bela reached back and unhooked her bra.
“Good girl.” He put his pendant inside his collar, then stripped off the shirt. Reaching out to bury his hand in her hair, pulling her to him, he kissed her aggressively. His tongue stroked hers erotically, dominating their kiss. Letting go of her hair, he reached down and cupped her breasts, his palms rough and cold, causing a chill up her spine. He pinched a nipple and rolled it between two fingers.
Bela moaned, stepping closer, reaching out, and running her hands down his chest. Both of them were still cold from the rain, but it didn’t bother her. She was too focused on him. Reaching up as he kissed down her throat, she felt the firm muscles in his shoulders and squeezed his biceps.
Grabbing the back of his neck, Bela tried to seize control. He batted her hand away yet again, and stepped back, putting some distance between them.
“I warned you,” he said, shaking his head as he grabbed his shirt off the sink. Without another word, he turned and strode into the room, leaving Bela staring after him, both turned on and pissed off.
Furious, Bela seethed as she got dressed while plotting her revenge. Fuck that. She had a gun. She’ll shoot him in his smug, arrogant face. See how pretty he was then.
After she dressed in her wet clothes again because she’d rather freeze to death than give him the satisfaction of wearing anything belonging to him, she heard Sam come back to the house. She took a deep breath, determined to seem unaffected, and went back into the other room.
“Coffee?” Sam offered. Dean watched her with a faint, self-satisfied smirk. She needed her gun because she was going to shoot him in the face.
Shaking her head, she said, “No. I’m just going to go back to my B&B.”
As Bela made her way to the door, Dean called out, “You forgot to say thank you.” He lounged back on the couch and his smirk widened, clearly enjoying her discomfort.
Almost going back for the coffee so she could throw it at him, she just gave him a big grin. “For what? Doing your job? Isn’t that what you claim you do? Help people? Oh, but Sam…thank you so much for coming up with a brilliant plan to save my life. You are as smart as you’re rumored to be. Good night.” She walked out before she chose violence.
xOxOx
Not bothering to be polite, Dean pounded on the door of Bela’s room at the upscale bed & breakfast. She opened the door wearing the white silk nightie. She looked almost innocent in it, quite the contrast to her usual rich-bitch demeanor.
“What the hell are you doing here?” she said in a harsh whisper as he pushed past her into her room. As he glanced around the place, he took a swig from the bottle he was drinking. “By all means, come in. God, how many fifths have you drunk? A serial killer, alcoholic redneck: you really fit all of the cliches, don’t you, Winchester?”
Dean plopped himself into a padded chair, stretching out and propping his legs on the ottoman. “How many clichés do you want me to fit?”
Bela rushed over, knocking his feet down. “Get your muddy boots off the ottoman. I’m not going to pay to replace that chair because of your abominable manners and total lack of respect. But back to the original question, what the hell are you doing here? Come to piss me off again?”
Dean looked at her for a long moment before sitting up, pulling off his jacket, and tossing it onto the desk, then watching it slide to the floor. He settled into his usual air of bored arrogance and shrugged. “We shared a moment at the cemetery, almost dropping all hostility between us. But you mentioned angry sex. Therefore, I had to make you angry.”
Stunned silent, Bela couldn’t respond at first. “Oh, is this where you claim I would order you around?”
“Nah. I don’t need instructions, I’m perfectly capable, no matter how much I drink or how horrid the women.” Dean replied, beginning to unlace his boots. He kicked them off and tossed them aside.
Chuckling, she sat on the edge of the bed, crossing her legs. “Ordering, not instructing. Don’t be obtuse. I’m not a teacher, and as you’ve pointed out, you’ve never been successful professionally.”
Dean looked away and remained quiet for a few moments before he shook his head. “You’re right. I’ve never sold my soul to become an incredible thief. I’ve dirtied my hands and my soul, saving lives. If I fail, people die. If you fail, you have to use your looks or your sycophancy.”
“That’s a five-dollar word. Do you need me to loan you the money?”
Dean stood up, strode over to the bed, and dug around in his pocket. Pulling out a ten, he threw it down beside her. “Do you have change, or should I think of another five-dollar word?” He was so close, she could feel the heat from his body.
Bela watched him cautiously, refusing to make the first move. He was making it very clear that his standing in her personal space was intentional, holding her gaze for a minute.
Suddenly, she felt nervous. Not a fear of him taking advantage of her, but from the realization that he now had the advantage. “This was a mistake,” she stood up and intended to put some distance between them, but he caught her arm.
“Not angry enough? Should I make you angrier? I had to drink half a fifth to come here. This will never work if we don’t just state what it truly is. We loath one another but are extremely curious if the other one is as good in bed as they suspect. Maybe you’re concerned you won’t live up to my expectations. I’m concerned that you won’t as well. You’re thinking you’re going to rule over me, and I know you’re not, but it’s hysterical to see you try. It’s going to be a standoff.”
Bela opened her mouth to argue, then quickly snapped it shut. He was completely right about the standoff, but not about her not living up to his expectations. She wasn’t concerned about that at all.
“So, tell me, do I get undressed and join you in that bed, or do I put my boots back on and leave. Either way is good for me.”
Bela glared at him, her anger simmering just below the surface. “Trying to convince me that you don’t even care isn’t exactly turning me on.”
Dean’s deep chuckle filled the room as he held his hands out. “Why do you care what I think? You tell me regularly that you don’t. Besides, you only want me for sex. And you already said earlier that I’m not very good at thinking. So, I’ll keep my thoughts to myself.” When she stayed there beside him but didn’t react, he realized what it was. “You don’t want to get your hand slapped again. That hurt your ego, I bet. This time if you misbehave, I’ll slap a little lower. That thin silk won’t soften the blow.” Without waiting for more discussion, he pulled her closer and leaned down, pressing his lips against hers.
The thought of slapping him crossed Bela’s mind. But he had ways with his mouth that made her forget her ego. Hell, if the rest of him was as good as his lips, she’d forget her name. He occasionally nipped at her lip, then ran his tongue over the same spot. He began moving her backwards, so she lay on her back, and Dean crawled over her. Straddling her, he sat up on his knees.
“You are a beautiful bitch,” he whispered, his green eyes staring deep into hers.
Bela shook her head. “Don’t sweet-talk me now.”
Dean bit back a smirk and said, “Take off your clothes.” He took his pendant and tucked it into his shirt, then pulled the shirt off and unfastened his belt. Bela watched him longingly but kept her hands to herself, which made him chuckle. “I’m not going to slap you if you touch me. Only if you try to take control. Touch me as much as you dare.”
Bela bit her lip, obviously holding back a retort. But she leaned forward and, putting her hands on his sides, ran her tongue up his dark, happy trail. “You’re going the wrong direction,” Dean pointed out as he bent down to kiss her again, his hand slipping down her nightie to grab the bottom and pull it up slowly. Bela used the time to reach back and grip his ass. Pulling back slightly, he suggested she help him with his buttons.
Bela watched his eyes as she unbuttoned and then unzipped his jeans. She tugged on the denim for a minute before Dean stepped back onto the floor and pulled his jeans off, followed by a pair of black boxer briefs. He grasped her ankles and turned her body facing his direction. His eyes raked over her body. He reached down and grabbed the front of her thong with his teeth, pulling it down her long legs.
Putting his knee on the bed, Dean lifted her knee and watching her the whole time, he sucked marks and swirled his tongue in circles on the inside of her thighs. When he was close to the apex of her thighs, she arched up and moaned, but Dean just let that knee go and moved to the other knee, sucking and licking the whole way up. At the top of her leg, he rose up and stretched out beside her, resting his head on his bent arms. He didn’t say a word, just sighed contentedly.
Bela wanted to either jump his bones or beat the shit out of him. She wasn’t sure which. Rolling on her side, she bent one knee and leaned on it. “You said you didn’t need instructions but…are you sure?” Trailing her fingers down his chest, she smiled at him.
“I’m sure.” He took her hand and moved it to rest on his cock. “Why don’t you impress me with your skill?” Lifting her breasts together, he smiled before he bent down and placed a kiss on each one. He slowly flicked his tongue against each nipple. Then stopped.
Bela leaned closely, her voice low and teasing. “You’re just a tease,” she whispered. with a grin. “I never thought you’d be a tease. ‘Course I really thought you’d be a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am kind of guy.”
Dean’s eyes flickered with anger for an instant, but he kept his composure. “No, I don’t say thank you,” he replied, his tone even but edged with irritation.
“Enough of you acting bored and indifferent. I do like to know I’m at least wanted,” Bela said, sliding to the side of the bed and sitting up, hanging her legs off the side of the bed. Her ego was getting bruised, and she didn’t like it. At all. When she looked back, he gestured down. “I need more of a sign than a hard dick.
Dean got up, and she almost screamed at him, but she saw him pick up and dig around in his jeans pocket. Holding up four condoms, he smirked. “I brought four instead of the normal two.”
“That’s it? That’s your big declaration of desire?” It was hard to talk to him when he’s walking around like a freaking Greek Adonis, completely comfortable letting it all hang out. Or rather, stand up. Everything else was tight and nicely sculpted. He was more muscular than he looked in clothes, with thick thighs hidden behind his normal denim. He wasn’t tan except the slightest bit of farmer’s tan but she had noticed freckles earlier.
But his cock was a thing of beauty, nice and thick and perfectly straight with a large head. She had suspected he was big. He had big dick energy. But more than big, it was pretty, which she never thought she’d say about a man. And his butt was adorable.
Dean Winchester was turning out to be an enjoyable person to look at. But she wanted more than just to look. And clearly, he wanted to tease and make her work for it.
He stretched his hands over his head and yawned, a gesture she found to be incredibly insulting. So insulting, Bela got up and put on her robe, then gathered up his clothes, his coat, and his boots. Putting her hand on his back, she pushed him towards the door. When he resisted, she opened the door and threw his clothes out in the hall. She held the door open and said, “I don’t want to bore you. So just get the fuck out.”
Dean looked at her like she was crazy. “I’m not going out there buck ass naked. Its fucking cold!”
“I will scream bloody murder,” she warned. She grabbed his arm and started pulling. Finally, Dean relented and she had never seen him so mad. “Now you’re not looking bored at least.” Bela slammed the door, forgetting where she was. Feeling cold, she put on a big hoodie and at once, started regretting what she had just done. She rarely regrets anything. Seeing the condoms on the floor made her mad all over again. He brought four, but he acted like he was waiting for a prostitute to show up and service him. She threw on some yoga pants and looked outside. The Impala was still there. She grabbed up the condoms and her door key, going after him. He was dressed and standing by the car, throwing some clothes into the back seat when she got there.
“You’ve got to be kidding me. You have some nerve even showing your face around me again.” He practically growled, he was so furious. She noticed he didn’t bother putting on his shirt Just his jacket. She bet he had gone commando as well. Bela ran over, avoiding the glass on the pavement because she forgot her shoes.
By the time she reached him, she was so frustrated. “Oh my God. Shut up. Just shut up. We’re better if we don’t talk,” she replied, pushing him against the car. “I’m in control if you don’t act. You want control? Then you need to take it.” She reached up and grabbed him by his hair, pulling him down for a kiss. She was glad he didn’t push her away or slap her hands. He cradled her face, his tongue battling for dominance.
Dean maneuvered her so he could open the back door while they were still kissing. When the door was open, he told her to get in.
“You forgot some things, and we might need them,” she said, handing him the condoms and getting in the car. She couldn’t believe she was getting busy in the back seat of a car. It’s been years.
Dean sat on his knees between her legs and shut the door. Then he propped himself over her, giving her long slow kisses, both having completely forgotten what led them there. After a few minutes of heavy making out, she moaned, “Tonight's anticipation has lasted too long. I need you inside me now. And screw you if that’s too much of an instruction.”
At what seemed like superhuman speed, Dean removed her pants, then both of them worked on removing his much more restrictive jeans. As soon as they were half-naked, he spread her legs, then lowered his head. Gave teasing licks at first. “You’re so eager,” he said with a smirk. She started to tell him to shut up, but he lowered his mouth to her pussy and began licking and sucking like she imagined a professional would. Every time he would tease her until she was moving her hips up to him and panting, he’d start devouring her like a man starved.
“Oh my God, Dean fucking Winchester, finally a way you can use that mouth that doesn’t make me want to shoot you,” she moaned, tugging his hair. She wanted to resist cumming because it felt so good, but her body decided it needed exactly what he was doing with his mouth and now his fingers. “I’m cumming,” she cried with desperate need for more.
As soon as she began, Dean stopped licking her and moved quickly so he could slide his cock into her as she came. He kissed her, letting her taste herself on his lips. He thrust slowly, making her feel every inch fill her, stretching her. It was so intense that she held on to him tightly, returning his kiss urgently. He gave her no respite after that, stroking into her rapidly, almost pulling out the whole way before sliding back in and hitting bottom.
“Take off that hoodie,” he demanded, sitting up far enough that she could. The Impala’s back seat was surprisingly large enough for the two of them and still gave him room to move.
“I bet you’ve fucked dozens of women back here, haven’t you?” she said with a grin.
“More. Only Baby knows how many,” he answered. Suddenly, he grabbed her throat, squeezing just enough to make her feel her breathing restricted a little. His thrusts got harder, and in between strokes, he said, “Do you know how many times I wanted to do this?” He squeezed her throat just a bit more. Dean was excellent at tempered violence, knowing where the line was between rough play and abuse, but never crossing that line. Keeping one hand on her throat, he lowered his mouth to suck dark hickeys on her boobs, alternating with hard sucks on her nipples. He knew by how wet she was that she liked rough play.
“Fuck. I’m going to cum again,” she whined, something that Bela Talbot never did. But fucking Dean Winchester had turned her inside out.
Bela stuck her hands up his shirt, and her nails dug into his back, hard enough to draw blood. She cried out, and Dean quickly kissed her to smother the noise. Someone was going to think he was killing her.
Nails buried in his skin always got to Dean and the walls of her pussy were gripping him so tight, he could barely hold back. “Damnit Bela. You’re squeezing the cum out of me.” As he came, Dean gripped her neck tighter, the tightest he could go without actually hurting her. His thrusts were savage, and his kiss was just as passionate. Bela wrapped her legs around his waist, changing the angle of strokes, causing both of them to moan into each other’s mouths.
Afterwards, Dean waited until he was almost completely soft before he pulled out. He sat between her legs and rolled down the window so the cold air would cool him off.
“That was great,” Bela said softly.
“Yeah, some of my best work,” Dean replied, ignoring her indignant gasp. He struggled getting his jeans back on due to the lack of space. Eventually, he gathered her clothes and tossed them out the window. “Well, it's been fun, but I need to get a few hours’ sleep.” He pulled her arm to make her sit up and opened the door. “Go ahead.”
“Dean Winchester, I’m not going to…”
“Yeah, you are.” Getting out of the car, he helped her out, locking the back door so she couldn’t jump back in. Bela had grabbed up her clothing, trying to cover herself. “It’s only fair Bela. Oh and next time you’re going to blow me. Quid pro quo, Clarice.”
“Next time? You actually think there’ll be a next time?” she demanded, struggling to get her hoodie right side out so the arms would untangle.
Dean chuckled, striding toward his car door. “Yes. I know it.”