Chapter Text
The man doesn’t have any rope - what the hell would I need it for? he says - and he offers some string, but that’d get uncomfortable quick, if he ends up tugging on it.
And - Dean’s got a feeling he’s gonna end up tugging on it.
So, Lee spends about five minutes digging around in the back of his closet, and finally unearths a pair of ties, which he tosses over to Dean.
“They’re gonna get wrinkled,” Dean warns him, and Lee snorts.
“I didn’t even remember I had those till five minutes ago,” he says. “Don’t think a few wrinkles are gonna make any kind of a difference in their life.”
He takes his shirt off, first, since they don’t want it all tangled up around his wrists during, and -
Well, he was right, what he said before.
He’s got a hell of a lot more muscle than the guys Dean’s been messing around with.
For a second, Dean just… looks.
At the guy’s chest.
Then he looks up at his face, and sees that Lee is watching him, amused.
Dean huffs, shaking his head a little.
“Hey, take your time,” Lee laughs. “I ain’t going anywhere.”
“Damn right,” Dean says, brandishing the ties.
Lee laughs again, and then he sits back on the bed, positioning himself in the middle and leaning back, arms stretched above his head. He settles, nodding at Dean, who scrambles up after him.
He doesn’t try any fancy knots or anything - just regular stuff, and he checks with Lee, each wrist, to confirm that it’s good - that they’re not too tight or nothing.
Then -
Then he sits back.
He’s still got all his clothes on, straddling Lee’s legs, and Lee’s still got his sweatpants on, and he doesn’t say nothing - just watches Dean.
Dean watches back, for a second.
Then he scoots back a bit, and lets himself sit, where he’d just been hovering before.
Lets his hips roll a little, back and forth.
Lee’s head falls back against the pillow, eyes closed, lip pulled between his teeth.
Dean exhales heavy, too, because yeah - even through the seat of his jeans, and the thick fabric of the man’s sweats - he can feel Lee’s erection, already starting to grow.
He rolls once more, and then he kneels upright again, swinging his leg over and standing.
“Fuck,” Lee mutters, obviously more to himself than anything.
For a second he’s looking up at the ceiling, but then he glances over to Dean.
Dean grins.
He pulls his shirt up over his head, tossing it on the floor.
Starts on his belt off, too, glancing up again as he does, and - then he pauses.
“What?” he says.
Because Lee’s frowning a little.
The man’s face twitches, like he’s trying to decide what to say.
Then -
“You gonna tell me about those?” he asks, nodding to Dean’s chest.
Dean glances down at himself.
There’s not a lot on his chest - a few spots where a belt or a whip licked him around front, and some that still linger from the worst of the burns from that last time with -
With Ishim.
Not a lot, but noticeable enough.
Dean looks back up.
“No,” he says.
Lee nods, after a second.
“Ok,” he says. And - “There’s a lamp on the dresser, if you want - dim the lights.”
Dean blinks at him.
Then he goes over - he turns the lamp on first.
After, he -
He didn’t quite think it through, because he has to back up, to flip the lightswitch next to the door.
It’s definitely better - just a soft yellow glow, instead of the bright white bulb overhead.
He glances at Lee again, and he knows the guy was watching him - knows he saw Dean make sure to keep his front toward the man.
But, Lee doesn’t comment on it.
Just watches, as Dean finishes with the belt, and slides his jeans down his legs.
Dean thinks, for a second, and then decides he wants them at least around the same level of undress.
So, he goes over and pulls at the waist of Lee’s sweats - pulls them down over his legs slow.
He’s got briefs on underneath, tight black, but he’s already starting to tent them.
Dean -
He touches.
Just runs his fingers along the outline, light - just thinking, trying to get an idea of the size, of what they’re working with.
Lee jerks, but he doesn’t say anything - doesn’t tell Dean off.
His breathing is definitely getting heavier, though.
Dean hums quietly, and then he pulls his hand back to himself.
He toys with the waistband for a second before pushing his own boxers off, down to the floor, and stepping out of them.
Lee’s watching him still - nostrils flared, his eyes dark.
Dean’s already half-hard, and he tugs on himself a few times, just to feel it - just cause he can.
Then he grabs the bottle of lube from where he’d set it atop the dresser, along with a condom, and he climbs back onto the bed.
Lee’s eyes follow him the whole time - as he straddles the man again, as he kneels tall on his knees.
As he pours a bit of lube out onto his fingers.
Just a bit - he doesn’t need much, and he especially won’t once they really get going, but it’s good for the beginning.
Just - so he can take his time, so he can relax.
So it doesn’t hurt, even when he’s still tense at first.
He reaches back around, circling a little, rubbing some of the lube around, before he presses in, just one finger, for now.
As soon as he does, Lee jerks again, letting out a soft groan this time.
“Fuck,” he says, his head pressing back into the pillow from where he’d been holding it up, craning his neck to watch Dean. “I can fucking smell you already.”
“Yeah?” Dean grins down at him, tracing his finger around the edge of his hole, opening up as best he can with just the one. “Whatcha gonna do about it?”
Lee stares up at him, eyes wide, and then his knees bend - feet planted, and he tries to lift himself, but Dean just rises, too, hovering out of reach.
“Fuck,” Lee says again, “you gotta fucking touch me or something, Dean, I can’t - ”
Dean hums again, and then he pulls his finger out, grinning as he watches Lee’s nostrils flare. He does two of them this time, twisted together until they’re inside where he can really scissor them a bit, and Lee fucking whimpers.
“Keep your knees up,” Dean says, taking pity on the guy, and Lee nods hurriedly. He exhales sharp as Dean leans back - letting his thighs, his sit bones rest, cradled by Lee’s legs.
Dean rests his other hand on the man’s thigh, using it to hold himself steady as he pushes his fingers in deeper.
Wider.
He’s definitely hard, now, and Lee is too - the man’s dick is straining against his briefs, and Dean exhales long, resting more of his weight back on Lee’s legs, sinking down a little more onto his fingers at the same time.
So, he’s steadier, so the hand he was using to balance, he brings in front of him instead, reaching down and tracing Lee’s dick again - squeezing, this time - and then he’s shoved forward, from how the man’s legs jerked up and in, but he’s laughing about it - totally off balance, and he had to pull his fingers out to catch himself on the man’s chest and on the bed.
“Shit,” Lee says, “I’m sorry - are you ok? Jesus, fuck - ”
Dean shakes his head, still laughing.
“‘M fine,” he says. And then - “We can always tie your legs down, too, you don’t think you can control ‘em.”
Lee stares up at him, eyes dark as ever, nostrils flared wide.
“You tryin’ to fucking kill me,” he says, making Dean laugh again.
They don’t tie his legs, but Dean goes ahead and pulls the man’s briefs down and off, and it was already there - Lee’s scent, strong and rich, but it makes Dean’s eyes flutter shut, deep, long inhales, how strong it is now.
Lee’s watching him, when he opens his eyes again, and he smiles when Dean meets his gaze.
“One more,” Dean says, waving his fingers, and Lee shrugs, as much as he can.
“Do as many as you need,” he says.
Dean nods.
“One more,” he repeats.
He doesn’t need the lube anymore - he’s slick enough, now, and stretched enough already that he can fit another in, especially all three pressed tight together.
Inside, though - inside he opens them out wide, and his head hangs, body shuddering from the sensation.
He’s giddy, too, because - that’s not all.
Normally this is all he fucking gets, if he even allows himself this much, but tonight -
Tonight.
He’s gonna get so, so much more.
He’s done waiting, suddenly - done teasing and stretching. He’s fucking ready for it.
He yanks his fingers out, and then his hand is on Lee’s dick, rolling the condom on, jerking it a bit as does, and Lee groans again, but it’s in the good way - the best way.
“Ready?” Dean asks him, and Lee nods quickly, because that’s all he can do - just nod and keep his knees up, while Dean holds his dick straight, holds it up to his hole and lets himself start to sink down around it.
“Fuck,” Dean whines as he goes, because he has - he’s fucking missed this.
Being full like this - he’s missed it so fucking much.
Lee was right, he’d gone with boys a few times, but he never let them fuck him, he hasn’t let anyone fuck him.
In that moment, when he’s letting this man fill him up, letting him inside - he can’t for the life of him think of why.
It feels so fucking good. Lee feels good - he’s warm, and solid, and big, even though Dean stretched. He’s stretching more now, to accommodate the man, and god it feels fantastic.
He can’t go all the way down - not at first, not until he’s done so partially a few times, but it’s not long before he’s open enough, and wet enough, and Lee’s dick is slick enough, that he can sink all the way.
They both have to take a second, when he does get fully seated, to take a breath.
Dean doesn’t start riding Lee yet - not really, not hard. He just lets him revel in it for a minute first - rolls his hips again, clenches down.
Grins, as the man hisses underneath him.
“God,” Lee says, when Dean meets his eyes this time. “You feel fucking amazing.”
“Yeah?” Dean says, rolling his hips again.
“Fuck yeah,” Lee says, and then he’s using his feet, pushing up to meet Dean - not hard, just enough that it feels even better, grinding in.
Enough that it makes Dean gasp, and then Lee’s the one that’s grinning.
“That feel good?” he asks, and Dean nods, pushing down to meet the man, so far that he can feel him in all the right places up deep inside.
They go slow like that, for a little bit - just pressing into each other, feeling each other out. Dean’s got his hands on the man’s chest now - partially to feel it - to feel that solid, live warmth beneath him - and partially to hold himself up, because it’s making him want to sink, how good it feels.
There’s a part of him - some distant part of him - that wants to turn over.
Not on his stomach - not that.
Just - on his back, maybe.
Just to see how it’d feel, to let Lee really thrust into him.
He thinks about it, for a second or two, but he doesn’t act on it.
He’s not gonna do that.
This - this is enough, just being full, and he’s in control - he can decide when and where and how much to let the man sink into him.
It’s with that in mind that he pulls back a little - back and up, and the noises they make echo each other when he lets himself down heavy again.
He starts building up a rhythm, and he keeps one hand on Lee’s chest to steady himself, but with the other he’ll touch himself - just every so often, and god it feels good - makes him clench down every time, makes Lee jerk up, too, in response.
He gets a little lost in it all - in how good it feels, so he doesn’t notice, really, but at some point he looks up, and finds Lee watching him.
He’s got a weird look on his face, though, and it makes Dean falter.
“What?” he says, slowing down a bit.
Lee blinks, and then he bites his lip, like he’s thinking about it.
And -
“I know you said you ain’t wanna be marked up,” he says. “But - think we can kiss at all?”
“Oh,” Dean swallows. “Um - yeah, you - if you want.”
“I definitely want,” Lee says, but it’s quiet, too - like maybe he doesn’t think he’ll get it.
Dean tilts his head, mouth twisting.
He lowers himself, then - one hand on the man’s chest, still, but not to hold him up anymore - just to hold on.
He doesn’t look at Lee, first - he’s not sure why, but he doesn’t look at the man’s eyes.
Just his neck, and Dean can smell him - it’s heady, this close. His neck, and his lips, and then he lowers himself the rest of the way.
It’s gentle - just their lips pressed together - and Dean pulls back after a second, still breathing him in.
“That - like that?” he says.
“Whatever you want,” Lee says, just as quiet back. He’s watching Dean, and Dean meets his eyes, now - they’re blue, so clearly unlike Pam’s green.
They’re -
They’re light blue.
Same as -
Same as Cole’s.
There’s a pause, and then -
“Whatever you want,” Lee says again, “cupcake.”
It takes Dean a second to register the word.
When he does, his face breaks open into a laugh.
“Fuck you,” he says, and then he pinches at the guy’s chest.
“Fuck yourself,” Lee says back, after startling away from Dean’s fingers, and then he pushes up again for good measure, and Dean’s whole damn body lights up, when it remembers what they’re doing.
“Fuck,” Dean hisses, letting his head fall to the man’s chest as the sensation rushes over him.
“That’s the idea,” Lee murmurs.
He’s rocking his hips a little, just pressing back and forth while Dean clenches around him.
This time, when Dean kisses him, it’s decidedly not gentle.
This time, he puts his whole fucking body into it, because he wants, so badly he can’t barely breathe for it, and if he can’t breathe for kissing, he can blame it on that instead.
He’s just been clenching again, and pressing them together, but then he straightens, and he does keep his hand on Lee’s chest - to anchor him.
Then - he really starts to ride.
Lee pushes up, too, as much as he can, and Dean’s got it figured, which angle to go, so he can fucking make himself see stars. Every so often, he’ll shift - he’ll lower himself again, and let Lee kiss him more.
Let them both breathe for a minute - let it simmer before building it up more.
Eventually, even when they’re kissing, he can’t stop moving, he’s so on edge.
His thighs are kind of screaming at him, though.
“You - tell me you’re close,” he says, gasping again, because Lee’s definitely figured out his preferred angle, and keeps pushing him back toward it.
“Close,” Lee agrees.
Dean already knew that - or, he’s pretty sure he did.
He’s pretty sure he can feel it.
It was so much easier to tell, back there - because that’s all his body cared about. All day, all he could think about, all he could focus on, was the feeling inside him, and how it wasn’t enough - it wasn’t ever enough, so he always knew, the second it started to grow, because that was all he wanted - everything he could feel, waiting for that one moment.
It’s not as obvious here, now, when all his senses aren’t just honed in on that one thing.
But after Lee confirms it, he can definitely tell.
He keeps lifting himself, jerking himself every time he does, which makes him clench down, which just makes it feel even better, even more.
He keeps lifting himself, and it gets harder each time - both because the growing knot is trying to keep him there, and because he wants to be kept.
He wants to feel it grow inside him, to lock him there, so he’s grinding down more each time, too, and - and he keeps catching Lee’s eye, keeps getting caught there, too, even as he’s just trying to focus on what he’s doing.
When his orgasm comes, it fucking slams into him, and it takes him by surprise - he knew he was close, but then the knot grew just enough that it was edging in on his prostate, pressing insistent, and that’s all it fucking takes to send him over the edge.
He comes, and Lee groans - because Dean grinds his way through it, still clenching as his come is leaking out all over his hand, over Lee’s chest.
Lee’s chest is heaving, every breath he takes in through his nose, and he is - he’s not growing anymore, Dean locked in around him, and Dean’s not lifting himself anymore - not even trying to. He’s just heavy in Lee’s lap, making little circles, one hand still propping himself up on the man’s chest, the other gone from his dick to press against his stomach.
He gasps, when Lee comes, with a “fuck, Dean,”, and Dean grins, breathless and fidgeting even as his body wants to settle.
He grins, but then -
Then they’re still there.
He’s got his hand on Lee’s chest, still, fingers curled, slightly, and his other is hovering over his own stomach - he can’t quite bring himself to touch.
Lee’s panting, hard, but Dean can see, after a second, that he’s trying to duck - to catch Dean’s eye.
That’s -
Dean can’t.
He keeps his gaze fixed firmly around the man’s navel.
“Dean,” Lee says after a second. “Will you - you gotta take a breath at least.”
He shakes his head - or maybe he’s just shaking.
His hand certainly is.
“Shit,” he hears Lee say, even though it feels like his voice is far away, somehow. “Shit, Dean, you - can we get these fucking things off me?”
Dean’s breath - what little is left in his lungs - comes out in a shuddering exhale through his nose, his lips pressed firmly together, and then -
Then his eyes are closed.
He can feel his chest hitching, but it’s not - it’s not working.
He’s moving, suddenly - or, being moved, anyway - and he has to go with the motion, locked together like they are. Just up the bed, Lee’s feet, his legs pushing them both backwards, as he pulls himself up, too.
Or, at least that’s what it feels like.
Dean doesn’t know because he can’t look - because he can’t stop feeling any of it, and it’s easier, with his eyes closed.
He can kind of hear Lee muttering - hear some wet, tearing sound.
But his brain’s not computing anything, so he about jumps out of his skin when the man’s arms wrap around him.
“Hey,” Lee says, right there in his ear, and Dean’s staring - he doesn’t even remember opening his eyes, but they’re open, now - he can see the headboard, one of the ties half shredded, damp around the frayed ends, the other just hanging off its post.
He blinks, because Lee’s arms aren’t around him anymore - aren’t holding him in against the man’s chest.
They’re on his face - Lee’s hands, and they’re pointing it toward him, so the man’s face is the only thing in his line of sight - all he can see.
“Dean,” Lee says, and then - “fuck, kid - ”
Then he shoves his wrist under Dean’s nose.
Somehow, Dean’s instinct brain takes the reins back from his animal, panicked brain, and he scents.
He inhales.
“Thank fucking christ,” Lee says, because once Dean’s started breathing again he can’t stop - huge, heaving breaths, and he knows he’s crying with them - he must’ve been for a while, his cheeks are wet with tears.
“I’m sorry,” he gasps, as Lee’s still just holding his face there, holding his wrist up to Dean’s nose. “I - I didn’t know that would happen.”
“You’re alright,” Lee replies, even though his voice is a bit shaky, too. “You’re alright, c’mere. What do you need?”
“I don’t know,” Dean says, so Lee just keeps holding him - just keeps touching him. One hand running through Dean’s hair, up and down his arm, his back, the other still resting by his face - just perched against his neck, now, so he can breathe in some fresh air, too.
“What do you need?” he asks again, when Dean’s breathing is finally approaching normal again, his eyes starting to dry up.
“I don’t know,” Dean says, quietly, hopelessly. He doesn’t - he’s never felt like this. Even when he’s gone all panicked before, it’s not - it doesn’t feel exactly the same. It’s different.
“Honey?” Lee says, and Dean blinks up at him, confused.
The man’s smiling.
He’s - he still looks as fucking freaked as Dean feels, but he’s smiling, he’s -
He’s trying to get Dean to smile.
“Cupcakes?” he continues. “I’ll getcha one of those birthday party packs with the little rings - hell, we can make ‘em from scratch, throw all the sugar I’ve got in the house in there.”
Dean blinks at him, again, but the next breath he huffs out - it’s kind of like a laugh.
His mouth moves like it’s trying to smile.
And he realizes, then, what made him lose his damn mind in the first place.
He swallows, looking down again.
“It - it feels good,” he says, barely more than a whisper.
For a second, there’s silence.
He glances back up, and Lee’s staring at him.
“Yeah,” the man says after a moment, “yeah, that’s - that’s how it’s supposed to feel.”
He grins weakly, at the end, and Dean nods with a sniff, his mouth twisting.
“I feel good,” he mutters. “I mean I’m not - I’m not freaking out, I should be - ”
“You kind of are, though,” Lee says. “I mean I get what you’re saying, but you - you definitely freaked out.”
“But - I liked it,” Dean says. “I’m - it was fun, with you, I - I had fun.”
“Yeah,” Lee says after a second. “Ok. How about - how about we just relax for a bit now, ok? That’s - that’s part of the fun, too - we get to just relax a little after.”
“Ok,” Dean says quietly.
Lee reaches behind him, setting the pillow up tall, and then he leads them back a little more, so he can rest back against it - so Dean can rest, too, leaning into the man’s chest.
He’s got his arms tucked in-between them, head resting in the crook of the man’s neck.
“We just sit here?” he says after a minute.
It feels good, it does, it just -
It feels like he should be doing something.
He feels antsy, a bit.
Lee lets out a quiet snort.
“Always been terrible at this part,” he says.
He’s got one hand resting where their thighs meet, settled there from where he’d held Dean close while they scooted back.
The other, he’s just tracing up and down Dean’s back slowly.
“All I got is bartender small talk,” he says, and Dean snorts at that.
“All I got’s mechanic talk,” he mutters.
Lee hums.
“Why don’t you tell me about it,” he says, and it’s an offer - that’s all.
Dean thinks on it for a minute.
Then, he starts to talk.