Author's note:

I've not actually ever written anything like this before so please forgive me! This came out of the scene where Sam asked Dean if he needed 10 minutes in "Goodbye Stranger". I ended up having a couple of conversations about how 10 minutes didn't seem very long! Anyway... this is my first adult's only story. I blame 2 people for encouraging me... You know who you are ladies!

Dean excused himself. He was sweaty and grubby after the hunt and he needed a shower, but he needed something else more.

The adrenaline was still pumping through his veins and he was feeling, well, incredibly horny. Not the first time a hunt had made him feel like this, but it was the first time in a while.

He closed the bathroom door and turned the shower on, as he began to peel off his bloodied clothes, wincing as his t-shirt stuck to a cut on his arm.

He stepped out of his jeans and kicked them aside.

He ran a hand down his face and looked at himself in the mirror. He was battered and bruised and already a little hard.

Boy did he need this.

He knew he didn't have long. Sam was in the bunker kitchen sorting out some food and would be hollering for Dean before he knew it.

Stepping into the shower he let the almost too hot water run down his body calming his muscles, but not much else.

He rested his head against the still cool tiles.

Reaching for the soap, he worked up a lather and ran his hand slowly down his chest, over his stomach, across his hipbone and then lower…

He inhaled sharply.

He took a breath, wrapped his fingers around his shaft and gently moved his fist up and down.

A gasp escaped his lips. He reached up and braced his left arm against the wall.

The water ran down his face, dripping from his lashes as they sat against his cheeks, his eyes squeezed shut.

He bit down on his lip. He knew Sam wouldn't hear him, but years of sharing a room with his brother had made him conscious of noise and taught him to be silent and quick.

His gentle stroking picked up pace, he needed to get this done, he needed release.

He pulled harder and faster, each tug eliciting a small noise from deep within his throat.

He didn't really need to, but he pictured a cavalcade of women in his mind. The woman in the gas and sip this morning, with the small breasts and tight ass. Miss September in his latest issue of Busty Asian Beauties. That chick in the barely there bikini in whatever bad movie he was watching late the other night.

His grip tightened, his breaths became more urgent. He was almost there.

He skimmed his thumb over his tip and shuddered.

"Oh God. Come on" he growled.

The muscles in his belly tightened. Little pants huffed out of his mouth. He shifted his feet and flexed his toes.

Just a couple more pulls.

He bit down harder on his lip. Urgency was taking over him. His movements became erratic. His gasps, stuttered.

"Oh come on", he breathed out again, louder. He quicken the pace just a little more.

He felt the sensation start down low and rise up through him like an explosion making his knees shake.

He arched his neck, opened his mouth in a silent scream and came.

Leaning against the shower wall, Dean tried to calm his breathing. If he wasn't exhausted before, he sure as hell was now.

He shut off the shower and stepped out, grabbing a towel and gingerly drying off. Sore from a long fight and tender from other things…

He put on his 'dead guy robe' and ran his hands through his wet hair.

He felt one hell of a lot better. In fact he was starving!

Just then Sam yelled out for him, "Dude, you gonna be all night? Dinner's up!"

"Yeah ok, hold your horses!" Dean yelled back, "Can't a guy take a shower? I'm coming!"

He smirked to himself… Well actually.

Thanks for reading - I know it's not my usual stuff...