Erase All The Downsides (DESTIEL)

Three

"Where are you going?" Dean asked as he sat up slowly in the bed, watching Lisa gather her wallet and purse.

"Brunch with my brother and this week's love of his life. You want to come? I'll wait for you," she smiled softly as she paused.

"No, I have to get some writing done today or Benny will kill me, you have fun though," he smiled back at her.

"Will do, please don't forget to have your suit dry cleaned. We have that dinner next week and that's your best suit," she leaned over the bed to kiss him before grabbing her purse and leaving the room. Dean huffs a bit at the thought of errands, but surrenders to it. He makes a cup of coffee first, mentally going over the things he has to do. His goal for the day was at least three songs, or at least the bones of three songs. He'll mess around with his guitar for a while, maybe see if one of the boys wants to come over to throw around ideas because they have to officially get together and talk music.

Dry cleaning feels like a task that will hang over his head until he forgets, so after his coffee, Dean goes to the bedroom to gather it up. It's sitting in the corner of the room where it had been since that night. The button up and the jacket are both wrinkled beyond belief and they smell like cigarettes. Dean rolls his eyes at them as he tosses them on the bed. The pants are a little bit better off, he shakes them out to get the legs to straighten out, and something hits his foot as he does so. He moves the pants and looks down, his chest seizing at the little stick of foil sitting on the carpet. The pants fall from his hands as he bends down to pick it up.

There is a thrill that shoots up Dean's spine when he brings it up to his nose and breathes it in. The guilt in his stomach is no match for the shock of pleasure that courses through him at that smell. His head feels cloudy and clear at the same time, he can't decide which one. The bed is soft beneath his legs when he climbs on, laying down on his stomach. Her voice is in his head again, much clearer after hearing it so recently. The gum lays on the bed right beside his nose, his temple pressed to the sheets as he rolls his hips down into the mattress. He recalls the feeling of her hands on him, gently encouraging his hips into a steady rhythm; a purposeful grind instead of a mindless hump.

"Take it slow, baby, just like that. Good boy."

He gulps down breaths of air, Peach and the phantom hint of firewood. He circles his hips, clenching his hands down into the sheets to keep them above his head. His thighs spread a bit further and he loses the rhythm a bit, the friction so, so good.

"Please, please," he doesn't know who he is begging to, but the pleas come tumbling from his lips anyways, a mantra that he can't control. "Please, pl-" a deep whine cuts him off and his hips stutter as his orgasm suddenly washes over him. He stuffs his face into the bed, the gum right beneath his nose, nothing but Peach filling his senses. She's right there when he closes his eyes, praising him, helping him down from his high with gentle hands and soft kisses. It's the best orgasm he has had in months, and the thought alone sends him into a spiral.

There are tears in his eyes when he pulls his face out of the mattress, accompanied with a deep feeling of shame and guilt when he rises onto his knees, his boxers soaked and the gum completely crushed. He couldn't stop the tears if he tries, and he barely wants to.