Archive of Our Own ^beta

Ketch sat in the corner of the luxurious hotel room, leaned back in a glossy leather chair with a glass of scotch in hand. His eyes roamed over the half-naked figure in front of him on the bed, a landscape of tanned skin and freckles. His lips quirked in a slight smile, his gaze lingering on the sheer pink panties that Dean was very obviously rubbing himself through. He remained silent, amused and aroused by the show before him.

Dean let out a soft, breathy moan, his eyes meeting Ketch's gaze. He continued to rub his rock-hard cock through the fabric, his cheeks flushed and dewy with arousal. He could see the look in the other man's eyes, the obvious hunger and want. Despite the situation, he still felt a little self-conscious, embarrassed at his own vulnerability no matter how turned on he was. 

"Say something," he rasped, his voice ragged and tinged with annoyance. "Don't just watch.”

"But you are such a pretty picture, darling," Ketch purred, taking a moment to savor the flushed cheeks and labored breaths. He set his glass down on the nightstand before slowly approaching the bed, his gaze never leaving Dean's. He sat on the foot of the bed just out of the hunter's reach, his eyes raking up Dean's legs, pausing to stare down the other man's weeping tip where it was pressed up pathetically against taut fabric. "So needy, but so very pretty.”

Dean groaned, his hips involuntarily bucking up into his own touch. He couldn't help himself, the combination of the other man's voice and gaze was driving him insane. Despite his own embarrassment, he tried to regain some composure. 

"Shut up," he growled weakly, although there was no conviction behind the words. His head leaned back against the pillows, exposing the smooth expanse of his neck, a stark contrast to the freckles and flushed cheeks.

Dean's hand slipped underneath the thin material, rubbing directly against his sensitive member. He let out a soft gasp, his hand moving in sharp tugs as his eyes fluttered shut for a moment. When he lifted his head and opened his eyes, he saw the hunger in Ketch's gaze, the way the other man's hand was curling into a fist on his knee, as if it was taking everything he had not to give in and fuck Dean through the mattress.

"Look at you," Dean teased, his voice low and rough. "All worked up just from watching me. Can't keep your eyes off me, can you?" He slid his hand out of the front of the panties, instead letting his fingers trace feather-light circles on the inside of his thigh. "What's the matter? Too scared to touch me?" Dean's words were mocking but his eyes showed the same need and arousal that Ketch had.

"Scared isn't the word I would use" Ketch replied, his voice even but strained. His eyes never left Dean's hand as it moved, circling so torturously close to where he himself wanted to touch. His fingers itched to reach out, to take control, but he forced himself to stay still, watching and waiting. "More like disciplined," he added, unable to keep the hint of a smirk off his face.

"Disciplined my ass," Dean laughed, although the sound was more of a breathy gasp than anything. "You're dying to touch me, I can see it in your eyes." He moved his hand again, gripping himself in a tight stroke, letting out a moan. "Why don't you? Is it too much for you, Ketch?" He knew he was pushing it, the thin line between teasing and provoking, but damn it the man was too fun to rile up. He wanted to see just how long Ketch could control himself.

Ketch let out a low chuckle, his gaze finally returning to Dean's face. "I'm in perfect control, darling. I could sit here all day, watching you, driving you insane until you're begging me for release." His smirk widened, his own hand slowly moved towards the bulge in his trousers. "I have all the patience in the world when I choose to.”

Dean's eyes darkened, his breath caught in his throat at the sight of Ketch's hand slowly moving down. "You're a bastard, you know that?" he growled, his own hips bucked up in frustration. "You're just going to sit there and tease me like that?”

Ketch's smirk turned into a grin, enjoying how frustrated he was making Dean. "Like I said, darling, I'm in control here. And if I want to tease you until you can't string together a sentence, that's exactly what I'm going to do." 

His hand kept moving, slowly popping the button on his pants and sighing in relief when his own cock was free of the tight clothing. But he made no move to get closer to Dean. "I like watching you squirm. It's quite the sight. Especially all dressed up for me - my pretty little girl.”

At that statement, Dean's heart jolted in his chest, his member twitched under his palm as he swallowed dryly. His face was burning hot, and his cocky mask was crumbling. 

"Jesus," Dean hissed, scooting down closer to Ketch before allowing his hand to sneak back into his panties, eagerly stroking himself. "Please, I'm tired of this foreplay shit. Just fuck me already.”

Ketch's own cock throbbed at the sight, but he managed to keep his expression mostly the same. The subtle clench of his jaw the only hint that he was starting to feel the effect of the hunter's words. 

"Such a mouth on you," he purred. His hand moved to stroke his own length lazily, eyes watching as Dean's hand worked feverishly beneath the thin fabric. "What if I'm not ready to let you have what you want just yet, love? You really want it that bad? Tell me how bad.”

Dean's breathing grew erratic, his hand moved faster in those damn pretty little panties. He wasn't sure he'd make it much longer without touching Ketch, but he knew that was the game. 

"You already know how bad, you bastard. I need you," he groaned, his gaze not leaving Ketch's hand. "Been thinking about this for days now. I even wore the stupid underwear you told me to."

"And you look absolutely ravishing, dear," Ketch purred, rubbing his thumb up through a bead of precum on his tip.

Dean's breath stuttered at the praise, his own thumb traced around his tip to mirror the other man's movements. He needed this, needed Ketch's touch. "Stop playing with me," he managed to bite out, his eyes dark with need. "I'm on the edge here, Ketch. I'm begging you, man."

"Oh, I know," Ketch said, his smirk softened to a gentler but still teasing smile. "You're so damn close, and I'm loving watching you get even more desperate for me. It's delicious.”

Dean whined at that, the word “delicious” coming from those damn soft lips driving him even more wild. "Please," he keened, his hand tightened around himself. He was so damn close he could taste it. "Just touch me," he pleaded, his eyes locking back on Ketch. "I'll be a good girl. I'll do anything you want.”

That was the breaking point for Ketch. Hearing Dean beg, and call himself a good girl - he nearly lost himself at that moment. He couldn't deny that it was working for him, that the hunter's desperate pleas and the sight of him so disheveled were driving him absolutely wild. 

In the next instant, Ketch was on top of Dean, lips crashing together in a rough kiss, his large frame covering the hunter's form. "You drive me insane, love," he breathed against his ear between hungry and sloppy kisses, pinning both of Dean's hands above his head. "So damn pretty and eager to please. Are you going to be a good girl and keep your hands to yourself while I give you what you need? Or do I need to tie you up?”

Dean's moan was swallowed by the kiss, his body arched up at the feel of Ketch's weight pinning him down. He nipped at the other man's lips before letting his head fall back onto the pillows, his hands flexed in Ketch's grip. "I'll be a good girl," he managed to gasp out, his legs spreading to make room for the other man. "I swear, I'll keep my hands to myself. Just touch me, please. Jesus fucking Christ.”

Ketch's eyes darkened further at the sight of Dean's body reacting so perfectly to him, even more so when the other man rolled onto his stomach, presenting himself. Ketch let one of his hands slide down the hunter's back, tracing over the freckles and muscle. "So pretty for me " he crooned through his accent, and he slapped him hard right on the ass. 

Dean let out a noise that was a little too close to a whimper to be manly, his hips jerked forward slightly at the impact. He wanted to protest, maybe even argue or fight back a little, but he was so turned on and desperate at this point that he just couldn't bring himself to care. "Ketch- I need-”

Dean flinched when the panties were pulled just below his ass, and ice-cold lube drizzled over his cheeks without warning. Ketch leaned in to kiss and nip at the back of the hunter's shoulder blades. And a second later, the man's fingers were tracing and prodding at Dean's puckered entrance, making him shudder. Dean let out a soft moan, his back arched in response to the sensation of the cold lube and teasingly soft touches at his entrance. His cheeks burned in embarrassment, but he couldn't help the way his body responded to Ketch's touch. He'd known deep down that this was where this was going, and yet the intensity was still overwhelming in the best way. 

"I hate you," he panted, even as he pushed his hips back into Ketch's touch.

Ketch's lips curled into a smirk against the skin of his shoulder. "I don't believe you," he replied, his fingers slowly pressed deeper. "I think you love me for this. Or at least, this part of me." 

He shifted, reaching with his free hand to grip the side of Dean's chin and turned his head to the side. "Look at you, love. All needy for me. It's quite the sight.”

Ketch began thrusting his fingers into Dean at an eager pace, pulling some needy moans and gasps from the hunter as he buried his face into a pillow, every muffled sound music to Ketch's ears. Two fingers became three, then four. Dean hips pushed back to meet the other man's movements. And then, Ketch pulled away, leaving the hunter's hole gaping and flexing around nothing. Dean whined at the emptiness, but he doesn't have to wait long before the man above him lines his achy member up to his entrance, and then he's suddenly filled with cock. 

Ketch sank balls deep with one swift motion, stealing all the air from Dean's lungs as his sight sparkled in color. A deep moan leaves him, and Ketch chuckled in response. Ketch's smirk widened as he looked down at Dean's flushed and desperate expression. The hunter was always so stubborn and tough, but right now he was completely wrecked and at Ketch's mercy. 

"You like that, love?" he asked, his tone smug as he held the man's chin, keeping his head tilted off the pillows so he could see his face. "You like being stuffed full, don't you?”

"Yes- God fucking yes," Dean groaned, his face screwing up as Ketch's hips started to move hard and deep. "Oh-! Fuck!”

Ketch's eyes darkened as he listened to Dean's desperate noises. He loved seeing the hunter so wrecked and needy, the normally sassy, cocky man reduced to a whining, begging mess. "That's good, princess," he murmured, pressing a kiss to Dean's jaw. "You're taking me so well. You were made for this, weren't you? Made to be filled up by me.”

Dean couldn’t do anything but nod dumbly, his thoughts reduced to nothing but a mantra of ‘more, please, yes!’ His hands were fisting the bedding balled up under his face, toes curling as he trembled all over. He was so goddamn overwhelmed by all the feelings coursing through him - the pleasure, the heat, the need, the shame. It was all so intense.

"Please, Ketch-" he managed to gasp out. He's not even sure what he was begging for, but he knows that whatever Ketch gave him would be good.

"Greedy little thing, huh?" Ketch murmured, his lips skimming the side of Dean's neck. "What is it, love? Tell me what you want, I might just give it to you." He punctuated the words with a particularly hard thrust to make the hunter cry out and arch up.

Dean groaned, his face mashed down into the pillow. He was so close, he could feel it building up inside him like a tidal wave. "I-" he gasped out, his voice strained as he pushed his hips back, desperate to get more. "Please, I need- I need to cum." He hated how needy he sounds, but he was past caring. He just needed to find release, and needed Ketch to give it to him.

Ketch's eyes darkened further, a small shiver running down his spine at the sound of Dean's voice. He had never heard the hunter like this before, so desperate and pleading. "Yeah? You need to cum, love? Is that what you want? To cum for me?" He reached up, grabbed a fistful of Dean's hair and yanked his head back. The hunter's face was flushed, eyes glassy with need. And he looked absolutely beautiful. "Say please.”

Dean barely hesitated at the command, too far gone to even think about questioning it. "Please," he whined, his voice breaking over the word. "Please, I need to cum. Please, let me cum," He sounded desperate and wrecked, completely at Ketch's mercy.

Ketch felt a satisfied thrill of victory. He loved seeing Dean like this, begging and pleading for release. He loved having this stubborn, powerful hunter completely at his mercy. 

"Greedy," he chided, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You want it that bad? I'll give it to you." He tightened his grip on Dean's hips now, jackhammering the hunter down into the mattress as Dean screamed and cried out incoherent words of pleasure. 

Skin-on-skin impact rang throughout the room, the bed springs squeaked in a form of applause as Dean spasmed and came beneath Ketch who just wouldn’t stop. He fucked Dean through his orgasm until Dean was whimpering and squirming, only to pull out of his hungry hole and land another harsh slap across the hunter's already reddened ass.

Dean let out a hoarse shout as Ketch's hand made contact with his right cheek, his body was trembling and over-sensitive. He felt his own cum cooling on his stomach and the sheets, and he knew he was marked and ruined now. "I-I-" he tried to speak but his words got caught in his throat, replaced with a broken moan. He was so far gone, he wasn't sure how he was even conscious. 

And then, without much warning he was being rolled onto his back, his neck craned backwards over the edge of the bed, lined up perfectly to the other man's slicked up and blood heavy cock. 

"Now it's my turn, love. Open wide," Ketch prodded his tip along Dean's lips, allowing the hunter one gasping breath before thrusting in.

He went easy at first, allowing Dean to catch his bearings. But then all bets were off, and Ketch was fucking eagerly into Dean's contracting throat, the hunter's nose buried into his balls. Muffled chokes and retching gags were heard, and that was what sent Ketch over the brink. Ketch pulled away, moaning out repetitive "ahhs," as he stroked himself to a finish, walking to the corner of the bed to shoot messy ropes of cum along the crotch of Dean's soiled panties. And Dean just laid there, spent and blissed out, sweaty with swollen lips. He was half asleep as Ketch rubbed his thumb along the cum-sticky pink fabric, he hummed with a nod of approval as he gazed down at the other man.

Dean's eyes fluttered half shut, his face flushed and body trembling. His throat was sore, and he felt dazed and wrecked in the best possible way. He barely registered Ketch moving around him, but he felt the man's eyes on him, lingering on his body. He tried to speak, tried to say something smart or sassy, but all that came out was a hoarse groan. He just couldn’t find the energy to move, or even open his eyes more than halfway. He just lay there, limp and boneless, feeling like a puddle of mush.

Ketch just observed the hunter with a satisfied, almost possessive look on his face, watching as Dean's chest rose and fell with every labored breath. He was usually so full of fight and sass, but now he looked like a sculpture - perfect and divine. He couldn’t help but reach out, running a hand over the freckles that dust over Dean's shoulders and down his chest. Ketch's touch was surprisingly gentle, almost reverential.

"That was good, Dean. Very good. You're a natural at this," Ketch praised, he sat on the edge of the mattress to card his fingers through Dean's damp hair.

Dean huffed weakly, his throat sore. "A natural at what, exactly?"

Ketch smiled fondly, he continued to pet back the hunter's hair. "Roleplay. Kink. This arrangement. I think it could be quite beneficial to the both of us, if it were something you'd be interested in trying again."

He dipped in, kissing the center of Dean's sternum. "Blow off some steam, as you Americans call it.”

Dean moaned softly at the touch, his eyes fell shut. He couldn’t deny that it had been good - really damn good. But as he laid there, worn out and sated, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of shame at how easily he'd given in.

He opened his eyes, looking up at Ketch with a small, almost hesitant look on his face. "Maybe," he replied, the words coming out a little huskier than usual. "I mean, it was good. But I don't know if- you know.”

"Just something to think about," Ketch murmured with a soft smile, he gave Dean's thigh a sort of reassuring squeeze before he looked at the time. "Well, I suppose we should tidy ourselves up and send you on your way. Can't have your brother in a tizzy over where you might possibly be without him.”

"Ugh," Dean groaned, rolling his eyes. 

But he made no move to get up from the bed, just yet. He felt lazy and satisfied, and truth be told he wasn't exactly looking forward to sneaking back into the bunker without Sam noticing the obvious walk of shame.

Ketch poured two glasses of scotch , tossing an amused look towards the sweaty heap on the bed. "Or, you could text him that you are in the company of a... beautiful woman for the night. And that you will be back in the morning?" 

There was a hint of hopefulness to Ketch's voice that made butterflies flutter about in Dean's stomach. Did Ketch actually want him to stay?

Dean pushed himself up to his elbows, his movements were lazy and uncoordinated. He watched Ketch pour the drinks for a moment, considering the suggestion. It was a damn tempting one. 

He rubbed a hand over his face, sighing. "You tryin' to keep me here?" he asked playfully.

Ketch handed Dean one of the glasses as he rejoined him on the bed, a mischievous glimmer in his dark eyes. "It wouldn't be the worst thing," he shrugged, raising his own glass in a small toast. "To good company.”

Dean snorted, unable to resist a small smirk. "To good company," he echoed, clinking his glass against Ketch's before taking a deep gulp of the scotch.