Archive of Our Own ^beta

“You think he’s coming?”

“Dean, if you ask me that dumb question one more time, I’m gonna punch you in the face.” Jo answers testily as they move behind the bar top, swiping Dean’s half-drunk beer out of his hand before his fingers could so much as graze the chilled glass. “You’ll be fine, stop worrying.”

Dean had finally managed to grow a pair and ask Benny, The Roadhouse’s newest line cook, out on a proper date that wasn’t in the back seat of the Impala; as Jo had so eloquently put it, “You keep treating people like booty calls, you’re gonna get the booty call treatment.”

Not that Benny seemed to mind the less-than-classy locations Dean had taken them to so far; in fact, the pair of them had so much fun together that he almost always had to stop himself from asking Benny if they wanted to go back to his place with him. Benny made him nervous in the best way possible, with his sharp grin, witty sense of humor, and dialogue that was 98% fluster-inducing.

Dean was used to being the one to wear the pants in the relationship, so to speak, the one in control; but with the burly linecook, it was like he was experiencing his first ever high school crush all over again. They were fun to be around, and for the first time in a while he found that his days were no longer spent pining after Lisa, and instead filled with excitement over when he’d get to see Benny next.

Something Jo noticed and routinely teased him about, so much so that their mother had threatened to put them in the back if they kept using shifts as a gossip session.

“Do I look okay?” Dean asks as he runs his fingers through his spiked up hair, his attire more put together than usual. He doesn’t know why he’s so anxious, it wasn’t as though Benny was going to take one look at his outfit and decide they no longer wanted anything to do with him.

Jo doesn’t bother looking up from the beer tap as they refill an elderly gentleman’s glass. “Like you always do.”

“I’m being serious, Jo.”

“So am I.” Jo huffs a sigh.

“Dean, all Benny talks about in the kitchens is how much he loves spending time with you, and how respectful you are. Be glad I didn’t do him a solid and tell them truth about what an ass you actually are.” Jo passes off the glass and leans against the bar, one hip propped up.

“Screw off, I’m a joy to be around.” Dean mutters as he studies himself in the reflection of his phone, no real rancor behind his words.

“Tell that to your ex-colleagues.” Jo quips, looking out towards the front of the bar, over the dozens of heads currently occupying the space; The Roadhouse did pretty well for itself during the weekdays, thanks to Ellen, her hospitality, and take-no-bullshit attitude fostering a relatively mellow atmosphere, considering it was one of the few queer-friendly spaces in the area. “Your boi’s just showed up.”

Dean nearly snaps his spine with how quickly he turns around, scanning the bar and sure enough, there he was, wearing a blue striped jersey with yellow sleeves stitched white at the hems, carabiner and keys jangling from a loop in their belt. Their tooth gems wink in the low light of the bar as Benny flashes him a dazzling smile, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his lips. “Heya hun, sorry I’m late. Barkley made m’self sick and I had to clean it up.”

Barkley was Benny’s beloved speckled English bulldog, a furry little creature that had a penchant for chewing up leather shoes, sneakers, and charging cables; Dean had only been to Benny’s apartment twice, both times that ended up with him rubbing at Barkley’s wrinkled face as he plopped his entire body weight onto Dean’s lap.

Benny sits himself right next to Dean, so close that he could make out their distinctive scent of Marlboros with a spritz of vanilla with smoked rum underneath; the warmth of their muscular thigh presses against Dean’s as he settles in, setting his nerves alight with excitement and anticipation. “Heya Jo, ya think you can hand me a beer when you get the chance?”

Jo glances at Dean with a tone that screams “don’t over think it” before moving to fill up a glass with Corona, sliding it towards Benny expertly along the wood. “Thanks darlin’.”

Dean learned early on that endearments came almost second nature to Benny, perfectly natural and easy flowing in his silky drawl; the first time they’d called Dean “baby” during one of their dates, he’d nearly choked on the lemon-spiced crawfish they’d been sharing between them. From then on, he’d taken almost every opportunity to slip a pet name in, almost delighting in how flustered Dean got.

“You look handsome.” Benny says as he takes a sip from his beer, watching Dean from over the rim of the glass. He blushes, running a hand through his hair once more. “Eh, just kinda something I had laying around in my closet.”

“Nah, don’t sell yerself short. I know you’re nervous, but you ain’t gotta be around me. I love being around you, and I’m happy I’ve met you.” Benny’s hand reaches out, fingers interlacing with Dean’s own, calloused at the palms just as Dean’s were.

Dean huffs, embarrassed. “Was I that obvious?”

“Yes.” Jo pipes up from the background as they pass them by, completely ignoring Dean’s scathing glare.

“I’ve been told I’m unnaturally perceptive.” Benny assures, a bit of a lilt in their tone as they smile. “But hey, s’just the two of us. We can go as casual, or as all out, as you’re comfortable with.” He lifts Deans hand up, placing feather light kisses on his knuckles before setting it back down, rubbing their thumb along the scars marring his skin.

Dean smiles, tentative and small, but the knot in his stomach seems to have unraveled considerably. He’d become accustomed to performance, wether it was with John and convincing him he could still be his perfect little girl, or past flings and convincing them that he could provide them with whatever they wished or needed; maybe they had all seen through the facade without Dean realizing it, leading him to believe that anyone he got close to would just pack up and leave one day.

Maybe with Benny he could be better, unlearn everything he’d taught himself, and just be.

“Baby?”

Dean jerks himself out of his mini epiphany to see Benny watching with a gentle expression on their face. “Y’alright? Ya kinda spaced for a sec.”

He nods, genuine, wrapping his hand more solidly around Benny’s, the cool metal of their rings meeting his touch. “Yeah, yeah I’m good. Just happy to see you is all.”

They grin brightly, the bronze of their cheeks highlighted in the warm light of the bar as they lean in, free hand going to cup Dean’s chin as their lips meet in the middle. The slight scratch of stubble feels amazing on his skin, the faint taste of beer and wintergreen gum spurring his senses into overdrive.

Benny’s tongue prods gently at his lips, tasting as Dean untangles his hand from Bennys so he could wrap both around the back of their head, fingers carding through his curls.

“Keep it PG boys.” The voice of Ellen effectively pops the bubble they’d created, coming apart with an audible smack as the woman herself fills up a glass off to the side. Ellen Harvelle was one of the first people to welcome Dean into the community with open arms; stern and intimidating though she could be, she became like a mentor to him over the years, a pillar that people respected.

“Dean being good to you?” Ellen asks, not taking her eyes of the crowd in front of her.

“As always.” Benny replies, placing their hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Ya ain’t gotta worry about him or me, ma’am.”

“Course I don’t, I raised him. Stay safe though, y’hear? Can’t be watching you guys all the time.” As safe as their own slice of the world was, and as thorough as Ellen could be, things still managed to slip through the cracks at times. The whole reason for Ellen and her late wife, Bill, building The Roadhouse was to provide the home they didn’t get when they were young themselves.

“Always.” Dean assures, taking the opportunity to flick a peanut shell at Jo as they come back around.

“Momma, he’s bullying me again!”

Ellen just shakes her said, though there is a smile on her face.

“You n’ Jo seem close.” Benny observes, watching the exchange with softness.

Dean nods, stealing Benny’s beer to take a pull for himself. “Yeah, like the annoying sibling I never wanted.”

For the next two hours or so, Benny and Dean talk back and forth about anything and everything that comes to mind, from jobs, to family, to relationships; Benny provides a few stories from their childhood in New Orleans that has him laughing, his current ease a welcome contrast to the rolling anxiety from earlier on.

The slight buzz from the alcohol and the natural warmth Benny seems to provide has Dean leaning in more and more, delighting in how muscular they are as he wraps his arm completely around Dean’s frame; his jacket had been shucked off by then, so the feel of their fingers on his bare skin sent pleasant zips of electricity up and down his spine.

He wanted to feel those same hands ghost across his entire body, feel him up and hold him down, wondered how thick and heavy their fingers would feel pushing past his lips…..

“Dean?” Benny’s voice pushes through the haze of his fantasies, breath warm against his ear; it only makes pure, undiluted want pool further and heavier into his gut.

“You wanna get outta here?” Dean finds himself asking, whiskey doing wonders to loosen his tongue and release his inhibitions. Benny raises their eyebrows, surprise flickering across their face a few seconds before settling just as quickly, replaced by a mischievous twinkle in their eye. “S’long as I’m going with you.”

Benny pays their tab with a generous tip, Dean’s hand held firmly in his as he lead them outside; the sky is darkening by now, blue replaced by deep yellows and bright, fiery oranges. Benny’s Harley Davidson sits alongside the Impala, sleek and polished in a way that showed they took absolute pride in it.

“I can have a buddy of mine bring the bike back to my place, if you don’t mind me driving your Baby?” Benny asks, an invitation.

One Dean finds himself accepting without hesitation, the pair of them clambering into the Impala with Benny at the wheel.

—

Dean can’t bring himself to be embarrassed at what he possibly looked like right now, not when Benny is right there, kneeling between his spread thighs with one hoisted over their broad shoulder, tongue flicking and licking over his stiff dick, large hands keeping his legs spread.

His hands are buried in Benny’s hair, gripping it so hard he’s sure it had to hurt. Jeans and boots lay in discarded piles by the bedroom door, boxers and briefs laying forgotten by the bed itself; Dean’s shirt still sat bunched around his armpits, baring his warm skin to the slight chill of the air.

Benny’s own chest lay bare as well, breasts squished beneath them as they teased and licked at Dean fervently; he’d taken the time to slowly explore that same chest, the generous amount of body hair he had, the silver barbells dressing both of his nipples, the softness of his midsection, right down to the treasure trail that lead tantalizingly down to their groin.

Benny continues his ministrations, even as Dean whimpers and begs above them for more; for what exactly, he couldn’t tell you, something Benny mercilessly teased him with as they lifted their head up. “What’d you say, baby?”

Dean couldn’t even string the words together, breaths coming in shallow bursts, the droplets of sweat at his temple making his hair stick. “Please, I need…please.”

“Mm.” Benny pulls away, scooting up so he could place a quick kiss on Dean’s lips, tasting himself briefly before they’re standing up and moving to their dresser, an antique that looked to be carefully picked out rather than just being plain old. “Y’ever taken a strap before?” Dean scoots back so he’s laying on his elbows, face heated. “Yeah, s’long time ago, though.”

Cassie had been his first, well, everything, and though he wouldn’t have minded a repeat of the performance, none of his other girlfriends had been willing enough to try, and he wasn’t gonna push them, either.

After a moment Benny turns around, shutting the drawer with a harness and accompanying neon blue dildo in their hand. “We can do other things, if you’re not up for this?” Dean shakes his head, heart hammering as his mind conjures up various images of Benny wearing that exact same harness. “No, no, I definitely want it, it’s just…be gentle, yeah?”

They smile, reassuring him kindly as they move to place the straps of the harness around their hips, fixing and adjusting everything so it was comfortable. The sight has Dean throbbing, slick gathering between his legs as he moves closer to Benny, almost kneeling.

His pupils are blown out as Dean looks up at him, lips parting almost involuntarily. Benny lifts one hand so he could part those same lips with his fingers, the other going to slowly stroke the dildo, practically engulfing it in their grip. Dean makes a show of wetting the fingers in his mouth, sucking noisily, tongue swirling around the joints.

Benny suddenly removes his fingers entirely, grinning wickedly at Dean’s pout before they’re sliding their cock into his waiting mouth, praising him as he takes the head easily. His hands go to grip at Benny’s hips, throat working to adjust as the dildo slide’s further past his lips, drool dribbling at the corners.

“Yeah, that’s a good boy.” Benny says quietly, both hands guiding Dean gently. “My good, pretty boy.”

The praise goes straight down to his dick, has him removing one of his hands from Bennys hip to reach between his own legs, stroking desperately as tears began to well up in his eyes. Right when he feels himself just on the brink of climaxing, Benny frustratingly pulls away once again, a string of spit trailing just slightly as they push Dean gently but firmly back onto their mattress.

He goes down willingly, spreading his legs as wide as they could go as Benny kneels between them, hands going under his knees and this time placing each of them onto his shoulders. “Y’alright sweetheart?”

Dean nods, moving so the tip of Benny’s cock brushed just past his lips. “Please. Need you.” They oblige, leaning in to kiss Dean messily as he pushes in, inch by inch, to the point Dean thinks he may just burst from the sheer fullness of it.

After giving them both a moment to adjust, Benny pulls out just a bit and thrusts back in, building a steady rhythm that has Dean panting against his mouth. Slowly the pace picks up, the headboard knocking against the drywall behind it as Dean urges Benny on, lips moving to suck on the skin just by his throat. Dean begs for more, harder, faster as the coil in his belly tightens, ready to spring at any moment, almost certain the neighbors have heard them both by now, but who cares?

Especially when a “please Daddy” has Benny groaning lowly and picking up the pace, burying himself once, twice, before Dean finally falls over the edge, white light bursting behind his eyelids with Benny following suit not long after.

They lay there for a few seconds afterwards, catching their breath before Benny pulls out, almost immediately gathering Dean up in his arms despite the stickiness. He buries his face in the crook of Benny’s neck as they pull the harness off, saying something about cleaning up later. It’s quiet, save for Benny massaging his back and whispering words of adoration into his hair, making sure he felt okay. And he did.

“Lemme go get you some water. Nah, none of that.” Benny chides gently as Dean tries to wrap himself more tightly around them. “You need to drink something, ya just exerted yourself a whole bunch. I’ll be right back, don’t worry.”

He reluctantly lets them go, sitting up to watch as Benny pulls his boxers back on and pads into the kitchen, hushing Barkley as he grumbles his protests from the cage in the living room.

The rest of the night they lay cuddled up in Benny’s room, who graciously allows Dean to ramble on during a Dr.Sexy re-rerun on TV, Barkley resting between them. Dean places a kiss on Benny’s cheek, scratching the bulldogs ears. “I love you.”

“Love you too, baby.” Benny replies, kissing him softly in return.

Safe, content, and happy. More loved than he’d felt in a long, long time.