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alleiradayne · 5 years

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Pearl Necklace

Summary: After a successful hunt, Bela and Dean head back to her hotel room. Square Filled: BelaDean Warnings/Tags: Blow job, oral (male receiving), cum play, facials Characters/Pairings: Dean Winchester/Bela Talbot Word Count: 1,145 A/N: For @spnkinkbingo this fills my BelaDean square. Song: Pearl Necklace by ZZ Top

The door of the hotel room crashed into the wall as Dean stumbled through, doubled over and cackling until he could hardly breathe. Hot on his heels, Bela Talbot followed, her stern glare only fueling his laughter further.

“I can't believe… they thought… I mean, me?! An art dealer?!” he gasped between howling peels of laughter. He couldn't help it. Getting even with Bela had been on his to-do list for years, even if it meant getting under her skin for a mere five minutes. Her irritating had been worth every second.

“They were bumbling idiots,” she spat. “But I'll take it. At least we got what we came for.”

Dean straightened as his laughter subsided, a deep breath soothing the stitch in his side. “The look on your face, though,” he paused as he snorted an unbidden laugh through his nose. “Man, I want that framed and hung on my wall. I’d call it, 'Tables Turned’. Or something like that…”

“Hanged,” Bela stated as she headed for the bottle of champagne she'd put on ice before they had left. “I'm going to drink this whole bottle and pass out, so, I'll see you in the—”

Dean snatched her wrist at the last possible second a she strode past him and hauled her into his embrace. “Why don’t I help you?”

A knowing gleam flared in her hazel eyes as she eased into his arms. “I didn’t take you for the champagne type,” she mused. Her gaze slipped to his lips as she licked her own. “Did we really make that good of a team for you?”

“I think we'd make an even better team on—hey!”

She had dropped to her knees and stripped him of his belt before he could even think to react. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Celebrating,” she chimed in her classy lilt as she wrenched his suit pants to his ankles and hooked her thumbs into the waistband of his boxer briefs. “Why? Not what you had in mind, Mr. Art Dealer?”

Well, shit. If she was offering, why not take her up on it? “I was gonna make it up as I went along. But,” he paused as he gathered her hair, “I think I like your idea best.”

“Good,” she sighed as she neared him, breath hot on his sack, his thighs. The tips of her finger teased at his groin as she dragged his boxers to his knees, and the cold air of the hotel room sent a shiver through his entire body as it graced his stiffening cock. Her fingers slipped around the base of his shaft, and Dean shuddered as Bela hummed her amusement through her nose. “I have to say, Dean, you do not disappoint.”

“What do you mean?” he groaned, his focus centered on her lips as they neared the tip of his cock.

“Most people,” she drawled as her lips teased his flesh, “… most would assume you were compensating for something with that Impala. But I figured the car matched the driver. No compensation necessary.” She paused as lapped at a bead of precum gathered at the tip of his cock. “And I was right. You are impressive, to say the least.”

Dean cursed as his cheeks flared with the familiar sting of embarrassment. His pathetic whimper had ruined that confident image Bela described, but he couldn’t help it. The softness of her lips on his cock surprised him, though he wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t as if she had fangs. But the sinfully smooth heat of her mouth dragged every desperate sigh from his lungs and every lewd comment his brain conjured in the moment. The sight of her lips wrapped around his thick shaft, gliding up and down and swelling the ache in his balls swelled so painfully, he cupped himself.

But Bela tore his hand away and replaced it with her own. Where he had sought to soothe himself, she excited him further. Dean had little restraint left in him, though he dug deep for more, for anything to prolong his erection lest he empty himself into her mouth so soon after she had only just started. And just when he thought he had a wrangle on his orgasm, Bela froze, the tip of his cock barely in her mouth and eyes gazing up at his.

The longer she sat there, completely still, the more Dean needed to move, needed to feel her mouth again. Subtle rolls of his hips stroked him in her mouth, each little thrust elongating until long pumps sent him down her throat. She released him then, her hands settling on his thighs that flexed beneath the firebrand of her touch. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as they closed, and Dean growled, gripping her hair harder, thrusting faster. The ache in his sac swelled once more, and there he relinquished any control he might have had left, his orgasm running wild through him.

“Fuck, Bela, I’m… shit, I’m gonna come.”

She reared back from him, too nimble for him to catch. Her eyes rolled open and locked with his as she said, “Come, Dean. Come for me.” At the tip of his cock she held her mouth open, her bright pink lips swollen and lipstick smeared.

Dean grasped himself with his free hand and stroked his cock, base to tip and back. His breath caught in his throat as he moaned choked cries and forced grunts, furious strokes demanding his release. A hard thrust of his hips pumped his cock through his hand and his orgasm burst with a long, white strand of his cum spurting from the tip and landing on Bela’s jaw, down her neck, and into the deep v-neck of her blouse. Another hard flex sent more of his seed into her mouth, and a third flung droplets to her neck that ran in little rivulets to her collar.

When he stilled, Bela sealed her lips about the tip of his cock and sucked him clean. A pathetic whimper rent from his lips, and one last long, slow stroke emptied him into her mouth. The room pitched violently as Dean sucked in a deep breath and withdrew from her. “Yeah, I didn’t expect that.”

Bela shrugged as she stood and headed to the bathroom. “Neither did I.”

Dean stripped himself of his clothes and slumped on the foot of the bed while he waited for her. “I owe you.”

“Not really,” Bela said as she returned to him. “Unless you insist.”

Swift as a cat, Dean grasped her by the ass and tossed her to the bed. With her skirt shoved up to her hips, he ripped her underwear to her ankles and tossed them aside. When he knelt between her thighs, he glared up at her from beneath his brow and spoke.

“Oh, I do insist.”

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