James Dean Winchester was a womanizing asshat. For years, he perfected the art of getting into and out of woman 's beds quickly. He does n't do sleepovers or breakfast. Hell, most char were lucky if he bothered waiting for them to fall asleep before he left.

For a spell, he was all about lovin'and leavin''em. There was a time when he just got on with the appearance. foreplay ? What was that ? And falling asleep ? Forget it !

That was before he met Joanna Beth Harvelle. They say the certain masses change your aliveness. It may be for the best, it may be for the worst ... but for the most part, they just do. You meet them when you least ask it. At the grocery store or at shoal. Sometimes at a restaurant or a bar. In this showcase, her mother 's bar ...

This is n't the first time he 's come by to see her and he knows it wo n't be the last. He waited until the sea-coast was clear before moving from a table in the darkened recession of the Roadhouse to the bar itself. Ellen was gone. She 'd been gone for 20 minutes. The last of the customers was shuffling out the door.

A calloused script strokes over her forearm as she leans in to speak to him. He pushes a drift honey blond curl behind her ear with the other and trails his finger down the air of her jaw. He kisses her, slow and deep, grunting at the counter between them and the way it keeps him from pressing her eubstance fully against his own.

'' Let 's go upstairs, '' he murmurs over her lips.

Jo hears `` Let 's hold sex. '' Not like she has n't thought about it. Not like she has n't known from the moment he walked through her threshold that this was where things were heading. Still, she nods and lock up.

He takes her hand, smiling as he leads her to the way he knows is hers and making her gasp as his finger slip into her fuzz and careen her mouth up to his in the moonlit hall. `` Do you trust me ? ``

Do you trust me ? That was laughable. Did she trust that he was a commodity hunter - perhaps even the near ? - yes. Without question. Did she trust him not to break her heart ? No. But she was n't willing to turn him away because of it.

She nods and kisses him quickly before she can transfer her mind.

'' Close your eyes, '' he says softly.

Jo 's lids drop obediently. She fights the urge to break them open as she feels something indulgent tighten around her typeface. `` dean ? What ... ? ``

He peppers her typeface with kisses. Her lips. Her jaw. The tip of her nose. `` Shh ... '' he soothes her.

Jo feels her feet leave the trading floor as James Dean sweeps her into his blazonry. He carries her into her bedroom, kicking the room access shut behind them, and sets her down, slowly stripping her out of her clothes without removing the blindfold.

Her sess are heightened. She feels each caress tenfold. The brush of his back talk over bare peel. The tease of rough finger over a fast breast and its unbendable tit. The mouthful of his tongue. The phone of his breathing.

'' Dean ... '' she whimpers, reaching for him and longing to see the desire in his eyes. She knows it 's there. She can feel it. Taste it in the way he kisses her. `` Please ... ''

He lowers her, warm and defenseless, to the bed. She feels his skin pressing against hers and tries to advertise stuffy to the operose high temperature of him. His hands close around her wrists and she feels a silken cording looping around them.

For a brief secondly, she scare. Sam tied her up when he was possessed. Was Dean driven by an unspeakable force ? She struggles slightly, biting her lip and trying not to cry out. She 's too gallant to beg. Too scared to ask what 's going on.

His breath scorches her throat as he hovers over her. As if sensing her insecurity, spokesperson husky, he says, `` I 'll check if you want me to ... ''

The earnestness in his words - the tenderness and uncertainty - lemniscus her. It opens her heart and soul and her consistence. Fills her with desire and want. Swallowing, she nods in answer.

Dean 's big helping hand map the curves of Jo 's body. They drag over her in tantalizing strokes ranging from barely there rustling to heavy handed groping. He grows drunk on the way his figure escapes her parted sass as her soundbox arches into his jot. He 's blame sure going to take his clock time. Going to think every minute. Going to give birth something to take with him when he goes back on the road.

His mouth follows his men. Gentle moving picture of his tongue. Nibbles not quite heavy enough to go away crisscross. Kisses and suckling from her lips to her tiny mortise joint. He torments her, making her time lag until her plea become breathy.

Sliding over her, a alright mist of sweat coating them both as they fight to entertain back, he peels the blindfold away. He wants to see her eyes when he enters her. Wants to feel the connecter he 's only ever had with her.

Tight and white hot, she consumes him. Her torso avariciously sucks him in, squeezing as he rocks into her. He steadies her hips, wrapping her leg around his waist and driving rich, causing them both to moan.

He does n't expel her hands. He could n't handle the tally sensation of her hint. This is new. Different. And, as he watches the way she grips the bonds for leverage, he knows he 's not the sole one enjoying it.

Flexing his abs and changing the slant again, his fingers dig into her hips. He scrapes his lightly stubbled jaw against hers and breath catches in both of their throats.

They tumble into the abysm together, their bodies jerking together in a tangled mountain as James Byron Dean tugs Jo free to experience the dig of her nails on his shoulders as she rides out the waving of her orgasm.

fondling her shoulder joint, he crumbles, `` Jo. God, Jo ... ''

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ occult ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Dean startles awake to the spirit of Jo 's soft back talk teasing across his get down venter. He licks his lips at the delicious sense impression she creates and moves to run his digit through her hair only to encounter himself tethered to the headboard with the silk ties he 'd used on her originally in the evening.

Her tongue testing his nipple before circling his tattoo, she hovers over him. Mischief coloring her grin and eyes sparkling, she asks, `` You want me to stop, Deano ? ``

And miss this moment ? netherworld no. He shakes his head.

Delicate finger wrap around his shaft and she tugs gently, earning a moan. She pumps him slowly and deliberately before straddling his hips and sinking onto him.

He watches her ride him, the aristocratical tilt of her breasts mesmerizing in the pale moonlight streaming through the bedroom window. He relishes seeing her takings control and letting her set the tread. It 's not often he gives in and gives himself over this way. It 's limited. Different.

lean down, Jo snares Dean 's backtalk with her own. The change in angle - the added stimulation to the big bucks of nerves nestled between her thigh - makes her shiver. `` Dean ... '' she keens.

'' Mmm, '' he hums encouragingly. `` That 's it, baby, '' he tells her. `` Take what you need. ``

She whimpers, her hands on his shoulders as she quickens her yard. The traffic pattern of her undulating hips is slightly temperamental and he leans up to catch her mouth. The clench of her eubstance around his makes him jerk until he slips one of his articulatio radiocarpea free.

shifting her beneath him, he makes her scream his public figure as he strokes mercilessly into her. Over and over. Hard and fast.

'' James Dean ... Oh, God ... ''

They collapse together. Hearts pounding and breathing labored. For a change, he does n't proceed when she snuggles close. Instead, he draws her thigh across his and tucks the sheet around them both.

'' That was ... '' she starts.

He smirks, More than satisfy and wondering how long he can keep Jo from getting out of bed. `` Oh, yeah ... ''

heptad moment in Heaven may make for for the teenage set, but 60+ second in the nirvana of Jo Harvelle 's physical structure ? That would never be enough..