The first time it’s raining.
Jo pushes wet fingers to his mouth. And Dean pushes a wet mouth to her fingers. He pulls at her shirt and she tugs at the button on his jeans. Her shirt sticks to her shoulders and she pulls it off the rest of the way, smiling.
“No strings, right?”
He smirks and hooks two fingers into the belt loops of her jeans. She wiggles against him. He kisses her neck.
“No strings? Well, hello cliché.”
“Dean?”
“Yeah, sure. No strings. Just awesome, mind-blowing sex.”
“Good.”
Jo pushes a wet mouth to a wet mouth and traces her tongue over his teeth. His hand slides over her shoulder, fingers lightly pressing to her collarbone before slipping beneath the thin and lacy strap of her bra. Leave it to Jo to wear completely impractical underwear. Maybe she knew she was gonna get laid tonight. Hell, he’d practically planned on it. Although he really never thought they’d be fucking each other.
His hand smoothes around to her back and he lets his fingers work over eyehooks and the flimsy piece of lace drops to the ground with a wet thump. She yanks his shirt up over his head and kisses him again, both their mouths still wet and now kind of cold. Spit and rain water. Her fingers fall back to the button on his jeans.
“You don’t have to call me after.”
“Wasn’t really planning on it.”
She nods and holds her palm on his side, his hipbone pressing into her wrist. Her pants come off before his, stuck around her ankles, and she reaches into his front pocket, rubs the tips of her knuckles over his cock through the fabric, and pulls out a condom.
“Wow. You’re like Boy Scout.”
“Yeah, always prepared and I do good turns daily. Hey, how about that? Today you’re the good turn.”
A low laugh comes out from between her lips and she bites at the side of her mouth and tucks the foil packet into the elastic of her panties. He looks back at her with raised eyebrows.
The rain’s coming down harder now, thick and heavy drops on their skin. Jo pushes wet fingers back to Dean’s stomach and he nudges her against the wall with his knee. She pulls his jeans down, around his ankles, same as hers. He dips his fingers into her panties, grabs the condom with his thumb and forefinger and holds it in his teeth, and moves his hand lower. He doesn’t know if she’s wet from the rain or if it’s for him, but he grins in approval and flicks a nail over her clit as he noses his way inside. She grips at his shoulders and then plucks the condom from his mouth.
“Probably a good idea if this is just a one time thing.”
“Oh, yeah. Sure.”
He works a second finger into her cunt, knuckle deep and sets up a slow and soft rhythm. Her hands are on his neck now, wet tits pressed against his chest as she leans up for a messy kiss. Her lips start to warm under his.
“I mean, if we did it more than once, it’d be pretty hard to be friends? Right?”
“Maybe.”
Her fingers move around his cock, small hand curling into a tiny fist. She rolls the condom on, her movements jerky as he adds a third finger inside of her, his thumb still playing in circles over her clit.
“And we’re okay as friends. Not great as friends, like we’re not best friends, but we’re okay.”
He kisses her, pushes a wet tongue into a wet mouth and pushes a wet hand between wet bodies. She stops talking and comes around his fingers, low and shaking. Dean grins and pulls her half on top of him and still pressed up against the wall and as he takes his hand out of her panties, he shoves them down to her knees.
“Yeah, Jo, we’re okay as friends.”
“Yeah.”
He pushes inside and she’s wet and tight and he can feel each drop of rain as it pours down around them. She looks at him with serious eyes, wide and brown, and he swallows and pulls out almost to the tip then pushes back inside, as deep and as hard as he can. Jo gives him a brittle smile.
“Okay, so maybe there’ll be a few strings.”
He nods and swallows again and closes his eyes. He can hear the rain splashing to the ground and the wet slap of skin on skin.
There’s totally gonna be strings.

The next time is after a hunt.
Sam dislocated his kneecap and is kind of out of commission, so Dean sucks it up and calls in a favor from Jo. She drives over from some backwater town a few hundred miles away and they skip the small talk and get straight to business.
It’s an old house with unreliable wiring and that musty smell that all old houses have. And, thanks to them, it’s now ghost-free. Smoke and salt mix with the damp air and along with that musty smell, it kind of smells like cold summer nights, too.
Jo smiles and licks her lips and then looks over at him, her head tilted to the side. Dean knows that look.
“No way. Are you freakin’ crazy?”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You’re such a nympho.”
She crosses her arms over her chest and raises an eyebrow, smirking.
“Oh my gosh, I didn’t know that you hadn’t met kettle! Well, this is really embarrassing, but just so you know, it wants to tell you that you’re black.”
He laughs and tugs her towards him until their hips slam together. He holds his hand over her ass, fingers splayed open and wide, and pushes his mouth to hers. His tongue flicks over lips and they stumble and trip over each other’s feet as they back into walls and make their way up creaky stairs.
She has one hand down the front of his jeans, fingers wrapped around his dick and pulling up and down along his shaft. They take fumbling steps down the hallway and knock at least two photos off the wall, revealing pale frame-shaped spots on the dirty wallpaper.
There’s a room that used to be a bedroom, yellowed sheets hanging loosely over mirrors and chairs and a vanity, and there’s an old mattress on the floor. Jo looks down at it, wrinkles her nose.
“Dude, gross.”
Her fingers are still on his cock. Dean fists one hand on his hip and rubs the other over his forehead and blows a frustrated puff of air from between his lips. It sounds a lot like a groan.
“You started this.”
“You started it last time.”
“Did not.”
“You so did.”
“Look, are we gonna finish this or what?”
He pulls her down onto the mattress, her hand slipping out from his pants, and she straddles his hips. They pretty much forget about the rest of the foreplay, Dean sliding his hands beneath her shirt and bra and quickly running his thumbs over hardened nipples before Jo bats his hands out of the way, and they decide the best idea is just to not let any skin really touch anything.
Dean tugs her onto his lap and quickly pulls her onto his cock, uses fast thrusts and closes his eyes. He wonders how it’d be if she rode him properly, tits bare and bouncing and hands on his chest. And it’s only after he comes, already dripping from her and back onto him, that he realizes they forgot the condom this time. Jo seems to think the same thing and her cheeks flush pink as they stand and button up their jeans, both sticky.
He kisses her cheek, stiff and awkward. She kind of grins.
“This thing with us being friends is taking a really weird turn.”
“Nah. I fuck all my friends.”
“Oh, well when you put it that way.”
He flings an arm around her shoulders and pulls her into him. She sort of fits there, tucked under his arm, and she slides her own arms around his waist, both of her hands locked together at his hip. He smiles.
“Makes you feel all special then. Right?”
“Yeah, Dean. I’m just tingling with happiness.”

The third time is in a doorway.
She’s on another hunt with Dean, tracking a trail of odd weather patterns that crisscross back and forth from the east cost to the west. Sam’s knee is healing up nicely, but Dean says that they wouldn’t mind the backup.
Out of the shower, she pulls on a pair of panties and a t-shirt and ties her wet hair up into a ponytail. Dean’s waiting on the other side of the door when she opens it and he smirks at her.
“What?”
He doesn’t answer and she tries to push past him, but he grabs onto her wrist. Her pulse jumps a bit where his fingers are pressed to her skin and he’s still smirking at her. She narrows her eyes and yanks her arm free.
“Dude, what?”
“No. It’s nothing.”
“If it’s nothing, then get that fucking grin off your face.”
“When did you get so hostile? I like it.”
“What don’t you like?”
He tucks his hands in his pockets and shrugs. There’s not much that he doesn’t like. From the time that Sam learned was sex was, he’d said that Dean would screw anything that was human and moved. It wasn’t an entirely wrong assumption. He does, however, really like Jo (enough to fuck her twice) and it’s confusing the hell out of him.
“Hey, Peeping Tom, we doing this?”
“Doing what?”
Dean looks up and she’s tugging the shirt that she just put on over her head. Her skin is still damp from the shower and the shirt bunches up around her middle. He grabs for her arm again, gently holds on and stops her from taking it off.
“Leave it.”
She blushes, two spots of pink dotting her cheeks. Jo smoothes her shirt back into place, fits it over her hips.
“Yeah, okay.”
He grins and bends to kiss her, one hand holding the back of her head, freeing her hair from the elastic, and the other on her stomach. She smiles into the kiss, he can feel her lips turning up at the corners, and he lifts her up and she wraps her legs around his waist, digs her heels into the backs of his thighs.
They end up pressed against the doorframe, the one separates the room from the bathroom.
Dean digs a condom out from his wallet and quickly slips it on, Jo’s fingers lightly touching the base of his cock, her other hand looped around his neck. He moves her panties to the side, pulls her pussy apart with two fingers, and slides inside. And he does end up taking off her shirt, pushes it above her tits first, then pulls it off. She feels so naked against him, bare skin rubbing against cotton and denim.
He presses his lips to the hollow of her throat, slides his tongue out of his mouth to lick at a drop of sweat. She shivers.
“So, that whole one time thing? That really didn’t work out, did it?”
“Yeah, I kind of noticed that when there was a second time.”
“Okay, good. It wasn’t just me then.”
Dean smiles and nods, his chin bumping her shoulder, and he lightly bites at her jaw. She shudders around his cock and feels it when he comes too, warm and hot. He stays inside of her, soft now, and kisses the tip of her nose.
“Hey.”
“Hi.”
Jo blushes again and kisses him back, covers his mouth with hers and they both turn at the sound of the door opening, a low squeak of old hinges. They quickly untangle themselves, Jo almost falling to the floor, and neither of them can find her shirt, so after Dean zips himself up, he starts to unbutton his own shirt to give to her and that’s when they both see Sam.
“Oh, hey, Sammy.”
He stares at them for a second, not blinking, and Jo holds an arm over her bare breasts and ducks behind Dean. And then Sam blinks, and with the blinking comes stammering.
“I, uh, the d-door wasn’t locked. And, I didn’t really see, well I mean I saw some, but n-nothing really. Sorry.”
Sam ends up stopping himself and smiling apologetically and walking back out into the hall, closing the door behind him.
Dean laughs.
“That wasn’t awkward at all.”
“Webster’s might disagree.”
“Well, yeah. But I could kick Webster’s ass.”

The fourth time, neither of them are exactly sure how it happens.
They’re sitting at the bar one minute and fucking in the bathroom the next. Dean thinks it started when they were comparing hunts, pointing out new scars and fresh bruises. Jo was telling him about this werewolf that sliced open her hip pretty good and he vaguely remembers asking to see the jagged path of stitches.
And now, well, now they’re staring at each other uncomfortably.
Dean slowly pulls out and Jo unwraps her leg from around his, pulling up her jeans and knocking her elbow on the stall door. She laughs and it echoes off dirty tile walls. Dean ties off and flushes the used condom.
“So, I’ll call you?”
“Yeah, sure. I guess.”
“Alright.”
“Great.”
He leans over to kiss her, but he sort of misses and his mouth hits her chin. She laughs again and then shrugs her shoulders. She buttons up her shirt and chews on her lip, teeth snagging on skin. Dean scratches at his forehead.
“Or you know, round two?”
“Wow, two is my favorite number.”
“Really? Mine’s three.”
“Don’t push it.”

The fifth time is in her bedroom.
It’s the first time that they’re completely naked from head to toe, all sweat and bare skin. Dean pulls sticky fingers over her calf, walks them up her leg and follows with his mouth. Behind her knee and over her thigh. Jo lets out a low sigh.
“This is going to change things you know.”
“More so than the other how many times?”
She props herself up on her elbows, looks at him kneeling between her legs, hands on her thighs and holding her open. He presses a light kiss on her hipbone, lifts his eyebrows while he waits for her to answer.
“Jo?”
She tips her head to the side and smiles prettily.
“Well, yeah. It’s different. Don’t you think? It feels different.”
“Yeah.”
She catches the small grin on his mouth and he ducks his head back down, kissing her hip again. Jo curls her fingers over his shoulder and he turns and pushes his lips to her wrist. It is different.
He slides his hand up over her stomach, licks her mouth and moves careful fingers down to one pink and rosy nipple. He kisses his way down her throat, pauses at her shoulder and the top of her breast, then lightly drags his teeth over a finger-shaped bruise. His lips replace his fingers and he gives a few more small nips, saliva cooling their warm skin.
Jo runs the back of her knuckle over a stubbled cheek. He kisses the edge of her finger, softly licks at gun calluses. She rolls over on her side and he snakes up behind her, pushes his mouth to her neck and she shrugs.
“Hey, you don’t have to do this.”
“Uh, are you screwing with me? ‘Cause we’re kind of already doing it. Well, not literally right now, but if you just gimme a sec.”
She laughs and her back shakes where he has one hand neatly held between shoulder blades, thumb stroking the knobs of her spine.
“No, I mean you don’t have to be so soft and gentle. I said it felt different, not that it felt like a Hallmark commercial.”
“God, I love you.”
“Oh, fuck you.”
“What?”
She pulls away from him a bit, folds her arms beneath her head.
“C’mon, Dean. Don’t say shit like that.”
“Like what? Jesus, Jo.”
“Just don’t.”
“Fine.”
He mouths at shoulder, shapes small kisses down her arm and back up to her neck, moves his finger up and down the bridge of her nose and then cups her cheek, turning her mouth to meet his. And her face is wet and tear-streaked as he kisses her.
“Don’t say shit like that if you don’t mean it.”
His licks his lips, licks her lips.
“Hey, Jo?”
“Yeah?”
“I mean it.”
She smiles and climbs on top of him, moves her legs over his hips and holds herself over him, her hair falling around her head, and then slides onto him, slick and wet and tight. Dean moves the hair from where it’s sticking to the trail of tears on her cheeks and tucks it behind her ears and pushes a wet mouth to a wet mouth.

блекджек и шлюхи, блекджек и шлюхи :D