Summary: During a trip to Vegas for a boys’ weekend, Dean finds himself alone, and bumping into Jay, the girl who could probably beat his ass at pool, eat more than him, drink him under the table and is more likely to cheat with another girl than he is. Dean finds himself married to her by morning, but the drunken impulse decision leads to more than either of them could have predicted.
Part Tags: drunk mistake, hangover, angst, mentions of stripping, slut shaming, jealous!Dean, impala sex, car sex, blowjob, p in v, creampie
Part WC: 3640
@Spnkinkbingo Square Filled: Impala Sex
Dean’s head is pounding as he blinks his eyes open. His mouth is dry, and his tongue feels like sandpaper. Every tiny noise outside the motel room echoes around his head, even the distant sounds of cars or other motel patrons leaving their rooms. He lays there with his eyes closed for as long as possible, not wanting to risk hurting his head further with natural light blinding him.
Dean tries to comb back through his memories of the night before; it must’ve been a good night if he’s this hungover. But he’s coming up mainly blank. Flashes of shots of tequila that wouldn’t have been his idea come back to him, followed by boobs in his face. Naked boobs – so he went to a strip club. But then there were naked boobs somewhere else too…
Dean’s inner thoughts are cut off by a soft feminine grunt beside him, and he braves opening his eyes to look at his company. Her blonde hair is sprawled out around her, full lips pouted slightly, a dusting of freckles across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. Dean winces as he tries to stop his head from spinning, and then he squeezes his eyes closed and reopens them, realising that she’s naked, her body mostly hidden by a sheet, but definitely naked. So he got lucky – or unlucky if his extremely cloudy memory isn’t going to clear up anytime soon. She looks exactly like the kind of girl Dean would want to remember. Typical.
He figures it’s not totally creepy to sneak another look. He’s clearly already seen it all, even if he can’t remember it, and so he lifts the covers and lets his eyes roam her body. Fuck, he really hopes he remembers soon. He looks at her breasts a little longer, trying to figure out if they are the one of the pairs he can remember, and then his eyes catch her necklace, and something dangling from it. He slowly reaches for it, picking up the ring and realising it looks just like his. He frowns, lifting his right hand to check his finger, only the ring isn’t on there. So it is his. Why does she have his ring around her neck?
Dean reaches up to rub his hands over his face, feeling something strange on his left hand. Pulling it away he stares down at a plain silver band where a wedding ring would go, and then looks back at the sleeping girl, putting two and two together and getting a number he doesn’t really want. Sure, she’s hot as fuck, and Dean would not mind her giving him a refresher on how the night went down, but that doesn’t mean he wants to be married to her. He doesn’t even remember her name. And Dean’s heard of all those guys that go to Vegas drunk and come home married. Sam even teased him about it before he left, telling him to be careful not to bring a wife home. Dean had laughed him off, but he should’ve known that he’d do something this fucking stupid.
“Fuck’s sake,” Dean mutters, sitting up, his head pouding. He ignores it, because there are more pressing things at hand than having a hangover, and as he throws his legs over the side of the bed he finally realises that this isn’t even his motel room. “Fuck.” Now he remembers losing the other guys from the garage early on, sitting in that bar on his own. The girl had been playing pool, he thinks, but that’s a blur.
He pulls his jeans on, feeling something like paper in the back pocket and pulls it out to see a marriage certificate. Oh fuck, it was a real wedding. He notices her stir out the corner of his eye and then she groans, clutching her head, and screwing her face up in pain. She slowly sits up, scrambling for the almost empty bottle of whiskey on the nightstand and taking a swig. Dean has to commend her commitment.
Suddenly her green eyes land on him and she screams, the sound piercing through Dean’s headache, making him yell out in surprise too. When they both stop screaming she frowns at him, clutching the bedsheets closer to her chest.
“Who the fuck are you?” she asks, bluntly.
“The guy you had sex with last night, apparently,” he replies, a little put out that she’s asked it like that, when clearly they’d been rather intimate last night. Intimate enough to get married, it seems.
“Right, what was your name again?” she asks, reaching up to rub her forehead.
“Dean,” he replies flatly.
“Oh, Dean, don’t sound so butt hurt about it,” she scoffs, throwing the covers off of herself and twisting to put her feet down on the floor. Dean’s surprised she’s suddenly so relaxed about him seeing her like that. She steps up to him, still completely naked and reaches up to tap the side of his face condescendingly. “You probably don’t remember my name either, do you?” she smirks, moving past him to head into the bathroom.
Dean turns his head to watch her leave, his eyes dropping to her ass. At least he married a girl with a great ass.
“Mrs. Juniper Winchester,” he calls out. She stops, turning around and frowning at him. “That’s your name now, apparently.” He lifts his hand, showing her the ring on his finger, and she instantly looks down at her own hand. Dean points to her chest and she reaches up, clutching her necklace, then looks down at his ring on the chain.
“What?”
“Looks like we got married last night.” He hands her the certificate in his hand and she frowns down at it.
“Winchester?” she presses.
“Yeah, why?”
She shakes her head and takes a deep breath, handing it back. “Don’t call me Juniper, I hate that name. It’s Jay.”
Dean suddenly remembers that, remembers thinking he liked the name, that it suited her. He watches her turn back around and head into the bathroom, closing the door, and Dean sighs heavily. Staring at it until she’s opening it again, a large shirt that covers her to mid thigh now wrapped around her body.
“Seems like we had a wild night,” Dean offers awkwardly. Usually he’d read the tone of not being wanted and leave. But this isn’t a normal one night stand. He’s kinda stuck with her until they can fix this mess they’re now in. “Did we go to a strip club?” he checks.
He watches her head towards her bag, pulling out some lace panties. She glances back over her shoulder at him. “Sounds about right. I don’t know, I don’t remember much,” she admits.
“Me neither. So, do you wanna head to the chapel, see if we can get it annulled?” he asks, looking back at the certificate, noting the chapel’s details on top. “I’m meant to be heading home today.”
“Sounds wise,” she agrees.
“We’ve probably got time for a repeat of last night before we go, if you wanted to,” Dean smirks, trying his best to seem casual, like he often gets married to a stranger while drunk in Vegas.
Jay glances back over her shoulder again and scoffs. “Nice try, dude.”
“I mean, we’re married, not like we’d be doing anything wrong,” Dean jokes, pushing his luck.
“I’m fine.”
Dean purses his lips and nods his head. “Okay, no worries, guess I’ll get dressed and we’ll head on over.”
“What if I just rip it up?” Dean suggests, staring down at the certificate. Jay scoffs, shaking her head as she grabs her coffee mug and takes another gulp. “I mean… this is the only thing keeping us married, right?”
“Not quite,” she replies, her eyes landing on his plate. “You gonna eat that?” she checks.
Dean also looks down at his pancakes and bacon, some rashers still swimming with maple syrup and untouched. He shakes his head and watches as Jay reaches over and grabs them, wolfing them down.
“Do you mind?” Dean huffs, frowning at her.
“Nope,” she grins sarcastically, licking her fingers. “Okay, so the chapel won’t annul it, now what? Wanna get some lawyer to do it?”
“I can’t afford a lawyer,” Dean grumbles, embarrassed. “And I won’t be able to afford anything if I don’t get back home, I’ve got work in two days.”
“Give me a couple hours to rustle up some cash, I can work the pool table,” Jay tells him, kicking back. She seems far less stressed about this than Dean, which only irritates him more.
“Sure that’s a good idea? The whole reason we’re in this mess is because I had to get you out of trouble for hustling last night,” he reminds her, taking a swig of his own coffee.
“I could’ve handled it,” she insists, glaring at him. “You didn’t need to pretend to be some Prince Charming.”
“Didn’t look like it to me,” Dean challenges. “From what I remember, maybe you’d have a better chance working the pole instead.” Dean knows it’s a low blow, but he’s said it now. He’s touchy thanks to his hangover, and the fact she’s being so blase about the whole thing.
“Wow,” Jay scoffs, shaking her head, “you don’t even know me.”
“No, but I remember you getting up on that stage, stripping for all those guys to see,” Dean reminds her.
Jay sucks her teeth for a second and looks around them, crossing her arms over her chest. “If I remember rightly, sweetheart, you had a great time watching me on that stage.”
“I’m just saying, maybe if you weren’t such a slut then we wouldn’t be in this mess.”
Jay’s laugh of disbelief is so loud she attracts some attention from surrounding tables. “That is so fucking rich coming from you.” She shoves her empty plate to one side, so she can lean over the table closer to him, and lowers her voice just a little. “The only reason we got married was because you liked the way I sucked your dick so much. So don’t slut shame me, sweetie, when you had no complaints about it last night.”
Jay slides out of the booth, heading towards the door.
“Where are you going?” Dean calls after her, frustrated.
“To work the pole and make some money to divorce you, asshole!” she calls back, most of the diner falling silent. Dean avoids everyone’s stares and digs into his pocket, throwing down a twenty dollar bill and rushing out after her.
He gets outside but she’s already disappeared, and finding an attractive blonde in Vegas is like finding a needle in a haystack. Dean grunts, rolling his eyes to himself. He takes a deep breath and looks down at the certificate. He’s meant to already be hitting the road. He still hasn’t heard from any of his ‘friends’, and if he’s not back in time for work on Tuesday he’s going to lose his job. Dean folds up the certificate and pushes it into his pocket. He’s going to have to figure this out back at home.
It’s getting pretty dark when Dean pulls up to a motel to get some sleep, before tackling the rest of the journey in the morning. His stomach grumbles as his eyes land on the bar that’s apparently serving The best beer and burgers in town, and he doesn’t even bother checking in before heading over there. Beer and burgers are a priority, after all. Dean steps inside, heading straight for the bar to order himself a beer. He grabs it and turns around to find a table, finding one close to the pool table a little further back. Some guy is bent over a blonde, showing her how to pot a ball, and she’s giggling. It might be the oldest trick in the book, but Dean’s got to give credit to the dude, it does work sometimes.
He sits himself down, watching as the guy unfolds himself from over the girl, and then she stands up and turns around to face him, smirking at him and biting her bottom lip playfully. Dean takes a deep breath. What are the fucking chances? Her green eyes leave her company and land on him, and instantly her smile vanishes. She says something to the guy and then storms over to Dean, thunder on her face.
“What the fuck are you doing here? Did you follow me? Are you fucking stalking me?”
“What?” Dean scoffs, finding the entire line of questioning a little dramatic. “I’m just heading home, sweetheart, I didn’t know you’d be here.” She laughs ironically. “Wait, why are you here?” he adds, confused.
“None of your fucking business,” she retorts childishly.
“Maybe you’re stalking me,” he quips, just as immaturely. Jay shakes her head, crossing her arms over her chest. “Well, while you’re here, you can take this back,” he tells her, slipping his ‘wedding ring’ off of his finger. He holds it out for her but she just scoffs.
“It cost me like three bucks, it’s not even real silver,” she tells him.
“Alright, well, mine is, so I’ll just take this back,” Dean replies, reaching forward and grasping the chain around her neck, pulling on it.
“Get OFF ME,” she shouts out.
Suddenly, muscles – the guy that had been throwing himself on her at the pool table – approaches.
“Everything okay here, honey?” he asks, glaring at Dean.
“It’s fine, I’m her husband,” Dean replies for her, forcing a smile at the guy.
“I don’t care who you are, you don’t put your hands on a woman without her say so.”
Dean instantly rises to his feet, squaring up to the dude and glaring back. “Talking of putting your hands on a woman… I saw you with my wife.”
“Oh my god, Dean, stop,” Jay mutters, clearly embarrassed.
“Seems to me like she’d much rather my hands on her than yours,” muscles taunts.
Dean moves to step closer to the guy, ready to punch him, but Jay steps in the way.
“Dean? A word, outside?” she grits out.
Dean takes a deep breath and looks at her, following behind her as she leads him back into the dark parking lot. She doesn’t say anything until they’re a decent distance away from the door, close to the impala. She crosses her arms over her chest, and then turns around to face him, her eyes dark and narrow.
“What the fuck are you playing at?” she grunts, “Why would you call me your fucking wife?”
“Because right now you are my fucking wife,” Dean reminds her.
“By law, but I don’t even fucking know you, Dean. What, you think that because a piece of paper says I’m married to some stranger that I’m gonna stay faithful to you?”
“Who said you had to stay faithful to me?” Dean scoffs, shaking his head. “You can fuck who you want, sweetheart.”
“Oh really? Because it seemed to me like you were pretty jealous back there.”
“Of that guy?” Dean laughs, “fuck off. I wasn’t jealous, he was just an asshole.”
“No Dean, you’re the asshole.”
“You said yourself, you don’t even know me,” he retorts.
“I know you well enough to know that I don’t wanna ever see you again.”
“Good, because I don’t wanna see you either. Give me back my ring and I’ll be going.”
“God, why do you fucking care about this stupid ring so much?!” she grunts, clearly frustrated. Dean knows the entire argument is childish and pathetic, but he just can’t stop himself, and neither can she apparently.
“Just give it back and you can go back in there and be a slut for that guy. You gonna marry him too?”
“You are unbelievable!” she shouts, reaching up for her necklace. Her hands reach behind her neck, but after a few moments she grunts and drops them again. “If you want it so bad then fucking take it, just don’t break the chain.”
She turns her back on him and holds her hair up, exposing her neck to him. Dean takes a deep breath, exhaling sharply and then steps up behind her reaching for the clasp of her necklace. He gets a waft of her shampoo, and then he remembers the smell from the night before, remembers her kissing him, bouncing up and down on his cock. He’d forgotten how good she’d made him feel. He’s still pretty pissed off with her – maybe not her, just the entire situation, really – but now he’s also kinda aroused. From what he remembers, they’d had so much fun the night before, and now this?
Dean grabs the back of her neck, and as Jay starts asking him what he’s doing, he turns her around, pressing his lips to hers. She pushes back, glaring at him.
“What the fuck are you doing?” she repeats. “Oh, so you want me to be a slut again, now it suits you?”
“Yes,” Dean replies simply.
“Fuck you, Dean,” she spits.
He grabs her and kisses her again, only this time, she kisses back, her touch already desperate as she claws at his chest through his t-shirt. Dean gasps for air when she pulls back, and kisses down his neck, and he sees the impala out the corner of his eye, guiding them over to it.
“This is yours?” she asks, pulling away for a brief second to look at it.
“Yeah, why?” he checks.
She shakes her head and kisses him again, as Dean scrambles for the back door, pulling it open and letting her push him inside. He lays back on the leather seats, feeling her climb over him, leaning down to kiss him again. She’s already tearing into his pants, pushing her hand into his boxers and wrapping her fingers around him. Dean gasps for air, his blunt fingernails dragging down her back as she moans and works him harder in her hand. She pulls her skirt up higher, and pushes her panties to one side, pulling his cock free with her other hand. Dean watches, out of breath and mesmerised as he thinks she’s going to sit herself down on him, but then she smirks, lowering her head to his cock and taking him in her mouth. Dean’s moan echoes around the car.
“Fuck, baby,” he gasps. “Now I remember why I asked you to marry me in the first place.”
Jay giggles, placing a soft kiss to his tip. Dean only wishes she’d stay down there longer, but she’s clearly a girl on a mission, as she licks her fingers and then pushes them between her own legs, smirking at him as she grabs his cock and lines it up with her entrance. Her mouth falls slack as she starts to lower herself down onto him, and Dean holds his breath, his hands gripping her thighs.
“Fuck,” he breathes out, glad she’s not moving, just sitting there, his cock throbbing inside her. Now he definitely remembers why he married her. Though, Dean can’t remember if the sex came before or after the chapel. Maybe they had sex more than once, Dean can’t be sure now.
The thought leaves his brain as soon as she rolls her hips, her teeth impaling her bottom lip as she moans softly, bracing her hands on his chest and beginning to slowly lift and drop herself up and down his cock.
“Shit, that feels good,” she whispers, her eyes fluttering closed. “Forgot how thick you are.”
Dean sits up, spinning them so he’s leaning back against the seat, Jay straddling his lap, and he places his feet in the footwell, thrusting up into her to help her out. Jay wraps her arms around his neck, dropping her forehead to his as she starts moaning, gasping for breath and humming quietly, a blissed out smile on her face.
“You feel so good, Dean,” she tells him softly. She straightens up, arching her back, her breasts thrusting into his face as she does so, and Dean leans forward and swirls his tongue around her nipple, sucking it between his teeth. Jay’s fingers find the back of his hair, her nails scraping at the nape delicately. “I’m gonna cum,” she tells him desperately.
Dean’s mouth moves across her chest, sucking a bruise into the side of it, leaving behind a purple mark. Her necklace drapes over his face, his ring brushing along the side of his nose, and Dean tips his head back to watch her fall apart above him, her mouth falling open, her eyes closed tight, her chest heaving in front of him. He can feel her clenching around his cock rhymically, and he grabs her ass, squeezing hard to encourage her to roll her hips. She once more drops her forehead, pressing it against his, kissing him lazily.
“Cum for me, Dean, c’mon, baby, cum for me,” she whispers against his lips, rocking her hips once again.
“Fuck,” Dean breathes out, his grip on her ass tightening as he gets closer and closer to his own relief.
His thighs tense and his cock almost automatically buries itself to the hilt as he starts coming undone inside her, his lungs feeling like they’re on fire inside his chest.
“I wanted you to take my necklace off, not fuck me,” Jay jokes after a few seconds of silence, her breathing still irregular.
“Well, you should’ve said,” Dean smirks, kissing her shoulder.
“Guess I gave off the wrong vibes, what with being a slut,” she sasses, rolling her hips once more and overstimulating Dean’s sensitive cock as it begins to soften inside her. Dean moans a little and then laughs breathlessly.
“Guess I don’t mind you being a slut after all,” he admits.
“Yeah, well it takes one to know one, sweetheart,” Jay scoffs, tapping his cheek with her palm condescendingly.
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