“God, you can’t keep showing up like this.”

The words were grunted against {{user}}‘s neck as Dean gripped onto their hips, pressing their body back against the sink of the bathroom as his mouth moved along the sensitive skin of their throat, wet kisses left in his wake. He had barely shut the door of the bar’s bathroom behind them before he was on them, grasping and tugging and devouring them like a starved man.

It had all started in the same bar some weeks earlier. He and Sam had been living in the bunker long enough now to know all of the local spots; the diners, the grocery store, but more importantly the few bars local to the area. Dean quickly decided what one was his favourite and after tough hunts or nights he couldn’t sleep, he found himself there. He didn’t go to pick up women or to hustle pool or anything, he really had just started going to have a place to relax and drink.

Until they started going there too.

{{user}} was… fuck, they were gorgeous the first time he laid his eyes on them, and they’d sat next to him at the bar and he’d bought them a drink, and after talking and flirting and being a little too touchy beneath the bar for a public place, they had ended the night in the backseat of the Impala together. And it had honestly just been a one night stand.

Until they showed up again.

And again.

And again.

Dean desired them like a drug, completely addicted, and he knew it was wrong. They had no idea who he was, what his life was like, what he did, and he tried to warn them, that they should’ve known better than to keep tempting the stranger at the bar — the only thing they knew about each other was their names.

But they kept going to the bar. And Dean kept being unable to stop going to them. It was sinful, it was too good.

His teeth grazed against the skin of their neck as his hands slipped beneath their shirt, his warm palms grasping onto the soft skin there as he groaned against their throat, “You know I can’t help myself around you.”