Author's Note: This story is based upon the TV show Supernatural and its characters, Dean and Sam Winchester, all of which belong to Eric Kripke and the CW network. There is a plot so most of the sex doesn't occur until part 2, but I think the wait is worth it. The story can easily continue if people like it, so please let me know.
Dean Winchester knocked back his third tequila shot in one smooth swallow, savoring the burn as the fiery liquid slid down his throat. He checked his watch again, wondering where the hell Sam was. His younger brother, better at the book shit than he was, had driven to the next town to do research on the demon they were hunting. Dean had stayed behind to learn everything he could locally about the rash of gruesome murders that had been happening in the area. Of course he'd finished doing that over two hours ago and was now stuck in this dive with nothing to do but drink – which really wasn't a bad thing when he thought about it.
Turning his back to the bar and leaning against it, he scanned the room with his piercing green eyes. The place was dead, with only a few tables and barstools occupied. There wasn't a hot girl there, which really pissed him off since he was horny as hell and really needed to get laid. If he had to clean his own pipes one more night he was not going to be happy. He was just completing his bored survey of the room when he stopped cold.
In the back, bending over a pool table to line up her next shot was the most smokin' hot babe he had ever seen. A mane of long blonde hair spilled over her shoulder until she tossed it behind her with an impatient flick of her head. He couldn't see her face clearly from this distance but got an impression of high cheekbones and a refined jaw. He watched as she caught her full lower lip between her teeth in concentration. His eyes slid down her slender neck to a pair of full tits that were falling out of her tight, black tank top as she leaned over the table. His gaze continued down her body to stop at what he thought was a perfect ass – firm but shapely. After lingering on that particular part of her anatomy for a minute or two, he almost reluctantly finished his perusal down her long, jean-clad legs to her high-heel black boots. He felt his throat and his balls tighten in response, and he knew that he had to have her.
As she sank the ball and moved around the table to make her next shot, he got a vivid mental picture of standing behind her and bending her over that pool table, naked. He imagined filling his hands with her round ass cheeks and sinking his big cock into her hot, wet pussy, fucking her so hard her luscious tits rubbed roughly against the green felt. His dick hardened just thinking about it, and he had to forcibly get himself under control. He shook his head slightly as if to clear it. As hot as she was, he couldn't believe how immediate and intense his reaction had been. He ordered another tequila and downed it in a quick gulp to steady his nerves, then scowled.
"C'mon, Dean," he thought to himself, "get a grip. It's not like she's the first chick you've ever picked up in a bar."
He started walking casually towards the pool table, watching as she sank the eight ball and stood up with a smile. Her rival groaned and handed her fifty bucks.
"Thanks," she said. "How 'bout another game? Double or nothing."
The guy she'd just beaten glared at her and said, "Yeah, right," before stalking away.
She shrugged and shoved the money into her front pocket. "Oh, well. Can't blame a girl for trying."
Dean stopped a few feet away and said, "I'll take that bet."
When she turned to see who'd challenged her, his heart skipped a beat as the full impact of her beauty hit him square in the gut. She wore hardly any makeup, just some mascara on impossibly long lashes and wine-colored gloss on her mouth, but she was breathtaking. Her oval face held large, almond-shaped eyes that were green like his, but a few shades darker. A straight, aristocratic nose sat above a wide mouth with full lips that begged to be kissed. He couldn't stop himself from imagining how those pouting lips would look and feel around his dick but pushed the thought away when it began to throb again. Her tits were so high and firm he knew they had to be fake, not that it really mattered. Her tiny top and low-ride jeans revealed a flat stomach with well-toned abs. A tiny waist flared out to curvy hips that tapered back down slender thighs. She was without a doubt the most sexiest woman Dean had ever seen and he wanted her, badly.
But he wasn't about to let her know that, not until he got her into his bed anyway. He smiled his most charming, sexy smile, inclined his head in the direction that her recent opponent had gone and said, "Some guys are such sore losers."
Her emerald eyes sparkled with amusement. "And are you," she smiled, revealing perfect, white teeth, "a sore loser?"
He shrugged. "I don't know. I rarely lose."
She grinned even wider. "I guess we'll find out soon, won't we?"
He walked closer and looked down at her, because even with heels she was still several inches shorter than him. "And what makes you so sure you're going to beat me?"
She tilted her head back to gaze up into his eyes. "I'm very good."
He inclined his head forward slightly and saw in her eyes that, for a split second, she had thought he was going to kiss her. And was disappointed when he didn't.
He smiled to himself and replied, "So am I."
They stared at each other until the sexual tension between them became palpable. It quickly turned into a contest of wills because neither of them wanted to back down, but she finally broke the powerful connection by picking up her pool cue. She did it casually, but he knew she had felt the electricity just as much as he had. Hell, the air had practically sizzled. He knew right then that she wanted him every bit as much as he wanted her.
She moved away to put some quarters in the pool table to start a new game. "Wanna flip for break?"
Dean took off his leather jacket and hung it over the back of a nearby chair, then grabbed a pool cue from the wall. "You can break," he said and started racking the balls. He wasn't trying to be a gentleman with the offer. He just wanted to see how good she really was and watching someone break gave him a good indication of the person's skills. That and he just wanted to see that gorgeous ass bent over the table again.
She chalked her cue and lined up her first shot, again having to toss her hair behind her shoulder. "Bloody hair," he heard her mutter to herself.
He personally thought her hair was as magnificent as the rest of her. Reaching to almost the middle of her back, the thick, honey-colored mane was streaked with lighter blonde strands, making it look like she spent a lot of time in the sun or a good hair salon. Dean's fingers curled as he envisioned wrapping handfuls of it around his fists to hold her head in place while he fucked her red, wet mouth with his cock. Or seeing it tumble around her shoulders as she rode him wildly, her body convulsing uncontrollably as she came again and again.
He was jerked back to reality with a loud crack as the cue ball broke the other balls apart, scattering them around the table and sinking two low balls. He saw her small, smug smile as she walked around the table considering her next move. He was impressed; she knew what she was doing. His admiration however soon turned to worry as she quickly sank one ball, then another. She was really good. He mentally shook himself to clear the lewd images from his brain and get his focus back on the game.
Dean was starting to think he wouldn't even get a chance to play when she finally missed a bank shot and he sighed silently with relief. He chalked his pool cue as he assessed the remaining balls on the table; he still had all seven while she had only two.
