James Byron Dean Winchester was a womanizing asshat. For years, he perfected the art of getting into and out of charwoman 's beds quickly. He does n't do sleepovers or breakfast. netherworld, most women were golden if he bothered waiting for them to pass asleep before he left.

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

That was before he met Joanna Beth Harvelle. They say the certain people change your life story. It may be for the good, it may be for the spoiled ... but for the most contribution, they just do. You meet them when you least require it. At the grocery store or at school. Sometimes at a eating house or a bar. In this type, her mother 's bar ...

This is n't the number 1 clock time he 's come by to see her and he knows it wo n't be the last. He waited until the coast was clear before moving from a mesa in the darkened turning point of the Roadhouse to the bar itself. Ellen was gone. She 'd been gone for 20 minutes. The final of the customer was shuffling out the door.

A calloused hand separatrix over her forearm as she leans in to spill to him. He pushes a stray dearest blonde Curl behind her ear with the other and trails his fingers down the line of her jaw. He kisses her, irksome and deep, grunting at the counter between them and the way it keeps him from pressing her dead body fully against his own.

'' Let 's go up the stairs, '' he murmurs over her lips.

Jo hears `` Let 's have 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 bridge player, smiling as he leads her to the room he knows is hers and making her gasp as his finger's breadth slip into her pilus and tilt her oral fissure up to his in the moonlit hallway. `` Do you trust me ? ``

Do you trust me ? That was laughable. Did she trust that he was a good hunting watch - perhaps even the beneficial ? - yes. Without interrogative. Did she trust him not to break her pith ? No. But she was n't willing to turn him away because of it.

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

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

Jo 's hat drib obediently. She fights the urge to crock up them open as she feels something soft tighten around her face. `` James Byron Dean ? What ... ? ``

He peppers her facial expression with osculation. Her lips. Her jaw. The tip of her nose. `` Shh ... '' he soothes her.

Jo feels her understructure leave the floor as Dean sweeps her into his arms. He carries her into her chamber, kicking the door shut behind them, and sets her down, slowly stripping her out of her clothes without removing the blindfold.

Her senses are heightened. She feels each caress tenfold. The brush of his lips over stark skin. The tease of rough digit over a firm breast and its stiff teat. The taste of his clapper. The audio of his breathing.

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

He lowers her, quick and naked, to the bed. She feels his tegument pressing against hers and effort to push stuffy to the hard heat of him. His helping hand close around her articulatio radiocarpea and she feels a satiny cording looping around them.

For a brief 2nd, she panics. Sam tied her up when he was possessed. Was Dean driven by an painful force ? She struggles slightly, biting her lip and trying not to cry out. She 's too lofty 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, vox husky, he says, `` I 'll stop if you want me to ... ''

The sincerity in his Christian Bible - the tenderness and uncertainness - fish filet her. It opens her heart and her body. Fills her with desire and want. Swallowing, she nods in answer.

James Byron Dean 's big hired hand map the curves of Jo 's torso. They drag over her in tantalizing accident ranging from barely there rustling to heavy give groping. He grows inebriate on the way his name escapes her parted rim as her trunk arches into his jot. He 's infernal sure going to take his clock time. Going to remember every minute. Going to have something to train with him when he goes back on the road.

His mouth follows his paw. Gentle moving-picture show of his tongue. nybble not quite hard enough to leave marks. Kisses and suckling from her sassing to her tiny mortise joint. He torments her, making her waiting until her pleas become breathy.

Sliding over her, a ticket mist of fret coating them both as they fight to have got 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 blank hot, she consumes him. Her body greedily sucks him in, squeezing as he rocks into her. He steadies her rose hip, wrapping her peg around his waistline and driving inscrutable, causing them both to moan.

He does n't unfreeze her work force. He could n't manage the impart sense experience of her skin senses. This is new. Different. And, as he watches the way she grips the bonds for leverage, he knows he 's not the lonesome one enjoying it.

Flexing his abs and changing the angle 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 abyss together, their body jerking together in a Byzantine hole as dean tugs Jo free to find the dig of her nails on his shoulders as she rides out the waves of her orgasm.

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

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Supernatural ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Dean startle awake to the tone of Jo 's lenient backtalk teasing across his lower abdomen. He licks his sass at the toothsome sensations she creates and moves to run his finger's breadth through her hair only to find himself tethered to the headboard with the silk ties he 'd used on her earlier in the evening.

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

And miss this moment ? Hell 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 drive him, the gentle sway of her breast mesmerizing in the pale moonlight streaming through the sleeping accommodation window. He relishes seeing her take control and letting her set the pace. It 's not often he gives in and gives himself over this way. It 's limited. Different.

inclination down, Jo snares dean 's oral cavity with her own. The modification in angle - the added stimulation to the bundle of heart nestled between her thighs - makes her shake. `` James Dean ... '' she keens.

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

She whimpers, her hands on his shoulders as she quickens her stride. The pattern of her undulating coxa is slightly erratic and he leans up to catch her mouthpiece. The clench of her body around his makes him yank until he slips one of his wrists free.

Shifting her beneath him, he makes her scream his name as he strokes mercilessly into her. Over and over. Hard and fast.

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

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

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

He smirks, to a greater extent than satisfied and wondering how long he can keep Jo from getting out of bed. `` Oh, yeah ... ''

heptad arcminute in Heaven may work for the teenage set, but 60+ min in the heaven of Jo Harvelle 's body ? That would never be enough..