A/N: Hey all! A little DeanOC smutty goodness for your reading pleasure. I haven't written in a while, and I felt like I needed to put this little thought in my head on my keyboard! As usual, no flames, but reviews welcome!
Disclaimer: If I owned Supernatural, the last thing I'd be doing is writing fanfics.....so yea. I'm making no money lol.
Dean gazed at Chrissie's lean body, brunette hair falling to the small of her back in waterfall like waves. Her soft curves were the most beautiful he'd seen in years. Pale, pearly skin glowed, even in the dim of the hotel room. How he wished she could be the one. That she could be different.
"Please…" She groaned from her place underneath him. Their bodies were already slicked with sweat, and Dean's cock was harder than he ever had been. Hell had given him none of this physical pleasure.
Finally, to the woman's great relief, he slipped himself inside her hot, tight sheathe and groaned at the sound of relief that came from her mouth. Everything about this woman drove him crazy. Her cries of pleasure as he racked her body nearly made him spill his seed right then, but for once, he wanted her to enjoy it. He began pumping faster as she clawed his back, her nails nearly drawing blood. "Fuck, yes…Dean.." She called out in her thick Australian accent. The sound of her calling his real name, as opposed to the fake ones he usually gave out, drove him rapidly to the brink. He held on until her inner walls contracted, and she clung to him, riding out her orgasm, then he quickly followed, giving one last thrust.
Reluctantly, he withdrew his limp manhood from her slick heat, but before falling to her side in exhaustion, he pressed his lips to hers. She seemed surprised, but returned the gentle sign of affection, slowly kneading her hands through his hair. He wanted to stay in this position forever, but she was the one to pull away. "Let's not make this more than it is…" She whispered, panting. "I don't wanna get my hopes up Dean."
He saw the sad smile on her face and nodded. There was a silent understanding in the room. Dean fell to the side, catching his breath, pulling Chrissie into his arms. They tangled themselves together, a coiled mass of limbs, strangely comfortable. Soon, they both fell into a dreamless sleep.
Dean woke to Chrissie, slipping on her jeans. "Leaving so soon sweets?" He teased. She turned to the buttons on her shirt, a smirk on her face.
"I'd wanted to get out before you woke. Make it easier on both of us," She answered, brushing her chestnut locks with her fingers, loosening the knots with ease. She avoided eye contact.
"Chrissie, I think we both know it wouldn't have worked like that," He said, one eyebrow raised.
"Wishful thinking I suppose," She said. The sad smile had made its return, and she pulled on her tennis shoes, standing. "I guess this is goodbye."
After a step towards the door, she stopped, a torn look crossed her features. On a quick decision, she turned around, leaning down and giving Dean a long, passionate kiss, her hands resting on his chest as her mouth moved against his. She pulled away and looked into his eyes for the first time that morning. She reached the door, set on leaving, without turning back. As soon as her hand was on the knob, she heard Dean speak.
"Chrissie? Just…just so you know. I – " He paused thinking of how to word his statement. "I wish things could be different...honestly."
She stood, taking in the words she had already known. With a nod, and the swiping of a tear, she left. Dean watched her leave, hips swaying as she walked away. Memories of the last night flashed in his mind and he smirked. Laying back in the bed, tucking an arm under his head, he took a deep breath, letting his eyes flutter closed. Who knew that the one time he would tell the truth, she'd be the one to walk away? Life was a bitch like that, but with a small smile on his face, he let himself drift to sleep, a beautiful brunette haunting his dreams.