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[ If she wasn't already flushed with colour from her cheeks to her collar, she definitely would be by what he says. If this is what she does to him, then fuck, this is what he does to her. She's never really enjoyed sex before, never really had a lover who was as generous or attentive as Dean, who coaxed her into chasing after what she wanted and encouraged what she liked; she didn't know it could be like this, feel like this, and she sure as hell never thought she'd be comfortable enough to say what she does between breathless moans. But now?

Now she's basking in the warm glow of that praise, the wash of satisfaction and arousal when she hears the broken edge to his voice, the unsteadiness of his breath, and every goddamn groan that tumbles out of his mouth goes right between her thighs, holy shit. She can remember what it feels like to crush their lips together, swallow those needy little sounds between them as they rock together, and this isn't the same but it's the closest they've got and it's pretty fucking good. Helps to have a goldmine of memories to call back on, too. Consider this one added to the repertoire. ]

Yeah? God, love how good you are to me, for me. [ Airy, almost lost to her heartbeat pounding in her ears. God, he does know just how she likes it — slow, deep. Beverly hums, shifts against the counter, tips her hips for a slightly better angle as she slides her fingers back into herself, grinding the heel of her palm over her clit. She's close too, but she wants to hold out, wants — ] Tell me, babe, tell me how good it feels. Let go for me, I wanna hear you, come on.

( dean's always been good at sex; most of his education came from low budget porn, but he learned pretty fast what women actually want and that it serves you a lot better if you treat them with respect. a lot has changed since he was playing high school casanova or picking up chicks in local bars and diners, and for the most part he doesn't feel like he's been left behind in some relic of the past — but this, this is still a little new to him. he's always been a strictly physical kind of guy, so to feel this connected to bev even with so much distance between them ... it really does speak to the nature of their relationship, how deeply his feelings go even if he rarely states them out loud. and, well, he's willing to try anything once. this particular experiment he'd say has been a rousing success. )

Jesus fuck, Bev, ain't never felt this good. You drive me fucking wild. Your mouth on mine, your hands in my hair — and, God, you're so fucking tight — nngh — I can't take much more of this, I swear, I need you so fucking bad.

( he feels like he's going to explode. fuck, he's gonna get it all over his shirt, but he can't even be bothered to care that much because all he can register is that mounting edge of pure fucking bliss and bev's heady voice in his ear.

let go for me.

well, she asked for it. his laugh is breathless, almost a moan. he's left the fantasy behind, now fully immersed in where he is right now, hips rocking into his hand, his strokes coming more frantically but not quite enough. he knows he can't draw it out much longer but he wants her to know exactly what he's thinking: )

You know, when I'm alone like this all I do is think about you — can't ever stop thinking about you, what I'd do to you if you were here. Sometimes I imagine going down on you, get off on all those pretty little whimpers and moans I have memorized, the way you say my name when you're close. Wish to God I could taste you right now, push me right over that edge with your clit between my teeth, right under my tongue. God, you must be soaking through your panties, huh, all over your fingers, fucking yourself so good, wishing it was me —

( and it's that image alone finally conjured at the forefront of his mind that really does it for him; a gutteral groan rolls through his chest, followed by several short gasps and contented whines as he rides through his orgasm, his belly twitching with each wave of it. he manages to contain most of his spill, but he's still a fucking mess by the end of it and he's definitely going to have to wash this shirt (tomorrow's wednesday; sam doesn't have to know why). he slumps back on his mattress, his breathing heavy when he finally manages to speak again. )

Fuck, talk to me, baby. You close?

[ It's crazy how good being wanted makes her feel (she knows there's a magazine rack full of issues to unpack behind that, but that doesn't make it any less true). Even thousands of miles away and just a rough voice on the other end of the line, Beverly can feel that longing, hear the craving strung through every syllable, the way his lips shape her name and wrap around it, urgent and desperate and familiar. Being wanted by him, because it goes hand-in-hand with being cherished somehow, makes her feel golden, warm and syrupy, like the afterglow they're chasing together. Even now, hearing him laugh in the middle of the filthiest fucking phone call she's had, makes her knees go weak. (Oh, honey, that's not just desire.)

She's doing this to him. Her! Just the thought of her! The memory of her touch so vivid that he's getting off on that and her voice alone. That golden feeling spreads, a tight knot of heat low in her core pulling taut and ready to snap; and as he talks, picks up the pace, her hand does the same; wrist aching just a little from the angle, but not enough to stop or slow down. He paints such a picture for her, her gasp high and stuttering at the idea of his mouth on her, right where her fingers are now, frantically circling her throbbing clit, wishing it was his lips brushing, sucking — ]

Yeah, yeah, God, I miss your beautiful fucking mouth, [ she whispers, breaking off with exactly one of those little moans he loves so much. Whatever follows is a rush of gasped encouragements, expletives, driving herself closer and closer to the edge just as he does, stomach fluttering with arousal at every sound he makes. ] Come on, babe, I got you, that's good, you're so good for me — [ through his climax, a thrill shooting down her spine as she hears him ride through it, and she's so close behind, she's — ] Y-yeah, [ on a whimper to his question, slipping sideways to brace her shoulder against the fridge, eyes screwed shut. God, she loves it when he calls her baby. ] So close, I'm so — oh, oh, fuck — Dean —

[ Her voice breaks off into silence, hanging on the precipice as she works herself to that sweet breaking point; and then she comes with a ragged moan, that golden feeling turning white-hot and racing along her nerves, head dropping back against the cabinets as she shakes through it, knees locking to stay upright, that moan fragmenting into pieces until all that's left are hiccuping, tremulous breaths. Jesus fucking Christ. Give her a second to hear anything other than her pounding heart. ]

Yeah, that's it, baby. That's it.

( his breathing has started to even out, but just listening to her touch herself on the other end of the line, whimpering into his ear, makes his breath catch. god, he fucking loves her. he could listen to her like this all day, truly, shamelessly enjoying herself. there's a certain pride he takes in hearing her pleasure, the way her voice pitches higher, gets a little airier, floating on the waves of her moans. it's like sweet music, the best kind there is. )

God, you're so fucking beautiful like this, Bev — wish I could see you.

( he can imagine, has seen her in the throes of passion enough times to know exactly what her face looks like when she's this close, when she's needy and wanting — but the picture in his head never really compares to the real thing. it's almost like looking through a lens that's slightly out of focus; all the details are there, but they're fuzzy, never as crisp as they are when they're together. still, he can see the shape of her open mouth, the pinch of her brows, the slope of her neck as it falls back.

and then her voice cracks — dean (god, he loves the way she drags it out, the way it sounds almost like a prayer) — and his chest swells, his face flushed with warm satisfaction. a smile widens his lips as he listens to her come down, her breath shaking as much as her legs must be. he lets out a soft huff of a laugh. )

Really hope that was as good for you as it was for me.

( just a little tease to ease them back into normal conversation; he knows it was, he could hear it, but he wants to hear her say it, too. )

[ The low murmur of his voice is like a balm, soothed over the parts of her that feel a little raw and oversensitive in the aftermath, breath hitching on baby, on beautiful. Her skin feels hot and tingling even now, glowing with the praise and that delicious rush of endorphins, but mostly it's the way he caresses her through it over the phone. She wishes she could feel his arms wrapping around her, sure and steady; she wishes she could feel the flutter of his kisses over her cheek as she comes down, just like always. Fuck, she misses him.

She manages to catch her breath, wet her lips before speaking — but he beats her to it with a quip, and her next exhale comes as a burst of laughter, bright and incredulous and delighted. She draws her hand out of her jeans, fingers still slick as they trail over her skin, and she presses the back of her wrist to her eye as her shoulders shake with it. ]

Baby, [ she says right back, her voice sweet and effervescent, ] it was amazing. [ Her hand shifts lower on her face, pressing the back of it to her heated cheeks now, flushed and still a little gritty with salt flecks. ] I can't believe we fucking did that. [ But she sounds so pleased. Grinning. ] Can't believe you can still make my knees shake from Kansas. God, I miss you.

( her laughter spurs his on, bursting from his chest with a wheeze and a low rumbling bubble of pure delight. it's not that he doubted what she would say, but there is almost some relief in hearing the confirmation that it was amazing. god, yeah. it was fucking awesome. )

Yeah, ( he manages in the wake of a barely contained chuckle. ) Feeling's mutual, babe. Honestly, almost didn't think you were gonna be into it. That would've been embarrassing. ( he's mostly joking; he's fairly confident by this point that she's into basically everything he does and vice versa. ) You think you might can get away sometime soon? This whole Jack and Mom situation is running us down pretty hard.

( they found jack only to lose him again and mary is still trapped in fucking apocalypse world, in pain, in danger (she can handle herself, but for how long? dean doesn't want to waste time finding out). so things haven't exactly been peachy keen, but they're doing their damn best.

he rolls off his bed with his phone tucked against his shoulder, jeans rustling as he puts himself back together, then he heads to the sink to wash his hands, setting his phone on the flat top of the basin and turning her on speaker. )

Lord knows I could do with a break. And you know I'd love to make your knees shake in Kansas. Hell, to Kansas. ( he can hear the mellow drumbeat in his head, the gentle guitar riff of one of his favorite, more obscure songs. he can't help but give her a little taste of what it would sound like, belting his best steve walsh. ) Hold on, baby, hold oooon.

[ His laugh makes her feel fucking tingly all over, makes the longing to be near him even stronger; it's almost bittersweet, but not enough to wipe the smile from her face or cool the blush warming her face. Her answering scoff is far from derisive or disbelieving; her, not into it? This? Him? Months ago she said she was all in and she meant every word. She's always gonna be into him and Jesus, that was hot.

She'd tell him as much, too, only he all but asks her to visit on the heels of his teasing and the warmth in her chest does a funny little twist. Oh. Dean misses her. She knows, they said it over and over in the heat of the moment, but to hear it in so many words — on top of what's been going on with them — God, yeah, of course it's been a hell of a time. ]

Yeah? [ There's no helping the gentle note of concern that colours her voice. As he starts to get cleaned up, so does she; Bev straightens against the counter (oof, her lower back is gonna be sore from how it was digging into the edge) and switches him to speaker, setting the phone down as she washes up in the kitchen sink. ] Actually, I — [ The singing cuts her off and she laughs again, a bright burst of sound. ] If you start singing while you're going down on me, Winchester, I swear.

[ ... actually, that might feel pretty good? Maybe? If she wasn't laughing too hard. Wait, no. Focus. She shuts off the tap. ]

Seriously, though, [ she continues, looking down at her phone like she can see him, ] I was thinking I'm pretty overdue for a visit. Can't keep making you do all the legwork, huh? [ She chuckles, then taps through to her calendar. ] I'm gonna be pretty swamped in August with Fashion Week prep... but you know, I could duck out for a couple days before it gets crazy. I think that'd do us both some good. [ Calm before the storm for her. A breather for him. ] I know October's on the schedule but I don't want to wait that long.

[ A beat. She bites down on asking too much? and instead offers: ]

What d'you think?

( don't you go putting those kind of thoughts into his head, beverly, he might just experiment with singing cunnilingus next time they see each other and he will not be taking the full blame for it. it's a ridiculous idea (he's laughing purely at the logistics of it), but he's never been known to knock something before he tries it. not that they need any spicing up in the bedroom — if this phone call has been any indication, anyway, they can turn just about any mundane activity up to eleven in a heartbeat.

hands dried, he picks up his phone again, turning to leaning back against the sink. he's prepared to make another joke, but she turns the corner before he can, following up on his casual invitation. he'd expected to hear something like sorry, no can do, babe, so when she lays out a potential weekend getaway, his heart practically gallops out of his chest.

get it together, winchester. )

I think you'd better book it now. Airbnb ain't got nothin' on this secret piece of history.

[ So much of making this work is stealing what moments they can together. Her life is about to get turned upside down in a very terrifying, hectic way in a few short weeks as she prepares to (re)launch her brand as a solo venture — if she thinks about it too much, she might pull a Richie Tozier and anxiety barf. A long summer weekend in the middle of nowhere with her favourite guy sounds exactly like what she needs to brace herself for the whirlwind. And with everything on his plate and how she knows he deals with it, she thinks he needs it too, to keep going.

She can hear him trying to play it cool on the other end of the line, but it's almost like she can feel the spark of energy as it shifts between them. Maybe because it thrums through her too, pleased and anticipatory and excited. ]

I mean, it's probably got bigger beds, [ she teases on a laugh. Those vintage bedframes are charming and cramped for their... needs... ] Believe it or not, I do miss the bunker. The city just feels — I don't know, too loud? When I'm stressed out. [ Which is probably why she channeled that nervous energy into busting a fucking ghost. And then some hot and heavy phone sex. ] Be nice to drive around town when it isn't freezing, too.

[ She wets her lips, already thinking. She can nail down her designs in the next month with her team, get a jump start on sourcing fabric, work ahead of schedule so she can buy a few days' time with Dean. The mood board's halfway done as it is, the product of her insomnia.

She nods to herself. ]

Yeah, [ after a beat, hushed and happy. ] Yeah, okay, I'll book it the second I get home. [ Which reminds her — ] Ugh, [ she starts laughing again, ] shit. I'm never gonna look at this kitchen the same way again, am I?

Edited (better idea) 2020-08-16 11:57 (UTC)

( he definitely can't argue about the bed situation, shakes his head with a quiet laugh. one of these days he really should invest in a bigger one, but in between bev's bunker visits it's usually the last thing on his mind with how crazy everything else gets. still, he knows the beds were originally built for, well, function rather than fucking. those original men of letters schmucks were absolutely never getting laid in their secret underground bunker for nerds so it was never even a consideration. maybe they're dishonoring the legacy by sexing up the place, but dean likes to think somewhere one of those geeky bastards is smiling down on them for being so ... resourceful. making the best of what's given to them.

he's practically waiting for that yeah with bated breath, his mouth widening when she finally makes up her mind. it feels like a fucking win, even as small as it is — and, finally, something to look forward to. in this business, so often it's about dark events looming on the horizon, but this? bev coming to visit? it's like waiting for a sunrise; no matter how many times he's seen one, it'll still be beautiful, something you can't help but pause to take in. )

Knew you couldn't say no. I'll make sure to cancel any and all monster related activity for your arrival. ( not a guarantee, but they've had their moments of quiet before. he laughs again, closer to a snort. maybe he should feel guilty for getting her off in someone else's apartment, but it's the clandestineness of it all that made it that much more exciting; this ain't one to regret. ) Baby, you're never gonna look at that apartment the same way again. It's tainted now. Tainted with love.

[ Something tells her a place called the Men of Letters bunker never anticipated women walking through those reinforced doors. The world's changing every day with monsters on the up and up and more and more people gearing up to fight them; the boys have told her that women do the job just as well as men, that it's about skill and experience more than anything else in the field. Beverly has no plans on becoming a hunter herself, she'd made that clear when she asked Dean to teach her a little about what they do — but now that she and the other Losers know things other than It go bump in the night, she likes being prepared. (They'd made it out of the cistern by the skin of their teeth.)

Anyway, came in handy, didn't it? She feels damn good about what she accomplished here today. And to celebrate that with Dean, in the best way they could in the moment, makes it even better. Beverly's come a long way in rebuilding her confidence but it still feels nice to hear when someone's proud of her. It's new. So much about this between them is. And the joy found in that novelty has yet to wear off.

Hearing his smile colour his voice brings a wider one to her own lips. Yeah. It's great, getting to share a life so fully with someone, even if they're thousands of miles away. ]

Hey, I'll take it. Better than being haunted, [ she agrees with her own chuckle. ] And I'm definitely not telling Jamie what happened in here — before, during, and after. But if every ghost hunt ends the way this one did, I want in on the next one. [ It sounds like a joke and it is, mostly; but she thinks back to earlier, the faint note of strain in his voice when he'd asked if she planned on doing this again, and adds, ] With you, of course.

[ A beat. Softer: ] Not this trip, though. This one's just for us.

[ Monster plans cancelled. Not always possible, she knows; but they can do their damn best. ]

( dean never wants to drag anyone into the hunter's life, but bev practically got dragged into it kicking and screaming and he didn't even have anything to do with it. so, yeah, when she said she wanted to learn more, just in case, just to be able to defend herself, he didn't say no. does he think she's ready to go solo yet? hell no. but that doesn't mean she didn't do good work today. doesn't mean dean won't consider taking her hunting with him eventually.

this one's just for us.

his smile softens, melts into the corners of his eyes. august, frankly, can't come fast enough. but the way things tend to happen so much so fast, it'll probably only feel like a few weeks rather than a whole month before she's in his arms again. and, hell, he's waited longer. )

Yeah, I like the sound of that. We can work up to a real hunting trip later. ( a beat. he pushes off the sink, his head perked toward a distant crash. ) Hey, you gonna be alright if I let you go? Think there's a moose in the kitchen and you know as well as I do that ain't gonna end well. Like letting a bull run loose in a damn china shop.

( there's a reason dean is there chef around here. not that sam isn't self sufficient when he wants to be, but his skills are, well, limited. better to let dean take care of it. )

[ Their jobs, vastly different in all respects but equally fast-paced, mean the time between their visits goes by in a flash more often than not. It's good to have something to look forward to beyond the looming chaos of NYFW in September; flying out to that quiet corner of the midwest, being wrapped up in that feeling of home... She can't wait, either.

Whatever surprise she feels at the promise of a real hunting trip (a date to fit their unconventional brand of romance) dissolves into mingled amusement, a pang of wistfulness to hang up. They talk on the phone all the time, but with what they shared on this call makes it a little harder to let go. (Oh, sweetheart, you've got it bad.) ]

Yeah, I'll be fine, honey. I've gotta get this mess cleaned up, anyway. [ No evidence left behind, formerly cursed watch included. ] You better get in there before your kitchen turns out the same. Say hi to Sam for me.

[ And then, just before they go — ]

Love you.

( truthfully, he never wants to let her go, but there are some things that demand his attention more than others, and she knows when it comes to sam, he's always going to be a little distracted, even if the most dangerous thing sam's getting up to is boiling water. dean just doesn't want his kitchen looking like a damn tornado blew through. they haven't really talked about what their next move is, either, and now that dean's significantly less wound up, it might be a good time to figure out where to go next. they've still got a missing kid to find and a mom to rescue. )

Yeah, you know I will. ( say hi to sam for her, naturally. ) And, hey, I really am proud of you, Bev. You did good. ( it bears repeating, just to reinforce the sentiment, that it wasn't just something he said to get her going.

the warmth of her i love you sinks into his chest, hurtling him back to that hotel room in chicago, the way she felt next to him in the afterglow of the first time he'd admitted it back and everything that followed. he almost doesn't think he can say it again so soon, doesn't know if he can dislodge those three words from where they feel stuck in his throat, thick and heavy with the weight of everyone he's ever loved and lost. but she's still here, she right there on the other the of the line, and she's not going anywhere, not anytime soon. she convinced him of that in chicago.

so after a moment of hesitation, as if he means to say something else entirely, he finally manages a soft, ) Love you too, babe.

[ Oh, that golden feeling is back again; the warmth blooming through her chest, spreading to her fingertips, lighting her up from inside and out. Hard to say what brings it on first — I'm proud or I love you — but her smile is bright and helpless all the same. Months ago, she wouldn't have trusted feeling like this. She'd been betrayed by it for years, until she couldn't tell what was genuine from what was just manipulation and empty platitudes. But this feels right in a way her bond with the Losers feels right. Honest, real, after a lifetime of wading through the bullshit.

She knows it's hard for Dean, too. Knows that words with that much weight have come with a price before — and she gets it. She's paid for it too, in her own way. It's only been a few short weeks since they confessed the depth of their feelings for each other but now that it's out there, mutual, Bev doesn't want to stop herself from telling him every chance they get. They deserve this and she'll say it for the both of them if she has to; doesn't make it any less true for either of them, anyway. He wouldn't have come back to her if he didn't mean it. And she wouldn't have let him back in if she didn't, either.

Still. It's nice to hear. God, it's so nice. ]

Thanks, Dean. [ Suffused with warmth and fondness, as always. ] Talk soon. Bye.

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