so, I don't own supernatural, but I do own this like story, so no stealings, okays?

Gotta Get Down On

She was dressed all in black. The same color her long curly hair appeared to be, as it fell past her shoulders, framing her perfect oval face. He looked into her dark seductive eyes and forgot what he'd been about to say, only managing the soft whisper of her name. "Bea…?"

His gaze shifted down to her full, ripe lips when the curved into a darkly sensual smile and trailed lower still to the top of her pale breasts. They bulged beneath the restraints of her corseted dress. Her cleavage drew his attention and he sighed, wanting to explore her ample bosom. The flowing, short black skirt that led down to long, luscious, well-formed legs solidly accentuated her flat stomach and perfect hips. Those legs ended in black four-inch spiked heels. She did it for Prue. She reminded herself, steadily keeping the smile on her face. She was a good actor, and if she could fool Dean into believing she was interested, and convince Prue, he was bad for her, then she and Prue could finally leave them behind. The thought of wrenching herself from Sam was hard enough, but her smile never wavered.

A finger under his chin lifted his head to find her lips dangerously close to his. Sexual electricity sparked between them as he closed the distance and tasted her rich full lips. His tongue swept in and began a heated dance with hers, hungrily exploring every inch of her mouth. His hands slid behind her pulling her closer breathing in the provocative scent that clung to her spreading need through him so thoroughly he was afraid he would explode. Bea willed away the desire to cry. She'd done this to herself, injected the siren's chemical in the lip gloss she wore, added succubus pheromones to her perfume, and there would be no backing out now. She could see the fight in Dean's eyes, the shuddering attempt to pull away and she made sure not to let her mask crack.

She took a deeper breath than most, and Dean suddenly saw right through her. There wasn't the uncertainty he'd come to know was a part of Bea's personality. His abrupt pulling away should have made her stumble, falter, be nervous. But it hadn't, and now Dean was stuck between two choices. Either Bea was doing this deliberately, or she was possessed.

He couldn't figure out a reason for her to do this deliberately. So when she brought her lips to his again, he murmured "Christos."

She blinked, startled by his words. But his hand was still up her skirt, the other still tangled in her hair, and he was so entranced by her that this could only be fleeting. "Dean, I'm not possessed," she murmured to him warmly, managing a smile with mirth. "Kiss me."

Kiss her he did, though he was now fully rebelling against it, his mind fighting against the way it felt. He cursed himself as he ground against her, lifting her weight as he jerked the car door open and tumbled inside, protecting her from smacking her head on the door with the afterthought of "I should have just let it knock her out."

Her fingers worked under his jacket, helping him shed clothes easily. His mind seemed to fragment when her mouth caressed the skin of his chest, as she trailed down to unbutton his pants, and that just wouldn't do. There was no way some little virgin was going to-nnngh… He set his thoughts firmly on track, trying hard to ignore the hot mouth wrapped around the throbbing center of his need. A VIRGIN would NOT unmake him, damn it! He dragged her up and away by her hair, only to find himself crushing his mouth to hers in a kiss that was too desperate for his taste. His fingers stroked her mound easily. He threw his jacket and the rest of their clothes into the front passenger seat, pride clouding his judgment. He nipped, licked and suckled his way up her inner thigh bringing her to a state of arousal as he reached for his goal.

Dean's tongue caressed her. It darted out finding her wet with need and he tasted her, tortured her. His hot tongue burned its way in and out of her silky sheath. Each stroke branding her with a pain so delightful she became lost in the constant ripples of pleasure that flowed through her. His every stroke teased and inflamed her until the pressure of her excitement became unbearable and she burst into thousands of glittering shards. She'd forgotten why she was doing this-forgot everything in the pleasure that he induced in her.

Dean lapped every drop of Beatrice's wild release. He growled as a second release fed him more of the sweet taste of her honey, a dark smirk on his face. The windows already clouded over, and Dean had barely begun with her. His fingers deftly unlaced her corset and eased the fabric over her head, tossing that into the passenger's seat as well. His hands weighed her breasts, tweaking the nipples as he mouthed and nuzzled and his fingers wove her to frenzy. Her hair frizzed out, her eyes deep and without the guile that had been there before. He worked her until she was screaming, his fingers barely entering her. He knew there would be blood, but blood could be cleaned out of the Impala. His hands rolled the condom over his throbbing mass easily, a practiced gesture.

Bea couldn't think. There was something, something indefinably important that she could just not wrap her head around. The sweet, sweet taste of his lips and the magic his fingers were working kept her blinded. Suddenly, something thicker than she thought possible was starting to push at her entrance, and she winced. Her breathing heavy, she whispered, "Dean…?"

He froze. Her voice, scared, soft, and Bea again, jolted him out of this sexy nightmare. "Get out," He rasped, barely able to catch hold of his breath, to hold himself back. His passion blazed a hot trail over her skin as they made their way to her eyes. "Quickly." He added.

She pressed her lips to his slowly, tremblingly, and he was wracked with tremors as well, unable to move, unsure if his body would betray him like his mouth already was, returning the painful, gentle kiss. She could remember why she wanted this, and thought it a silly reason… as if she could give this up? He hadn't even entered her yet and she'd been nearly unable to breathe. "Take me… Please…" she begged him. As he shook, she shook. "I-I want this…" she told him, swallowing hard.

She was jolted by the vicious fury in him as he buried himself inside her. He didn't wait, wasn't gentle like he would have been, had wanted to be. The pain was as white-hot as the heat that delved into her core. He shook more, holding onto his sanity long enough to carefully ask her, "Are you okay?" he even managed to make it sound almost nonchalant. Tears clung to her lashes and he felt a momentary twinge of guilt for his rough handling of her. She nodded hesitantly, and he tried not to shift or move in any way that would make her pain increase. Her breath hitched as his cock twitched inside her. "Sorry," he murmured to her, slowly lifting a hand to brush away some hair from her face. She rocked her hips once, twice, and Dean bit back a groan.

Her face was curious, and that made all of this seem damn bad. She might have licked her luscious lips, but it was damn obvious she didn't have a clue what she was doing, and that kicked Dean's conscience but hard. She rocked her hips again before he could tell her to stop, and he did groan that time, as the look on her face changed to a pleasured smile. His breath hitched and he leaned down to kiss her, dragging her down the seat and burying himself deep inside her. He wanted her making noises, her eyes hazed out with pleasure more intense than before, and he elicited them, driving himself deep into her, faster, harder. Her nails dug into his back as she screamed his name-he never once said hers, even through the dark fog clouding his mind.

Beatrice clung to herself, listening to twittering of birds and the soft sounds of his breathing when she awoke. She was dry and clothed, obviously Dean had to have had something to do with that. And the fact that she was in a bed as well.

"What the fuck was that, sleepy head?" Dean asked, almost cruelly. She could hear the sound of something glass hitting against something plastic, and she looked up to see Dean holding her perfume and her lip gloss bottle. "It took me a bit to figure out what you were talking about, but in your sleep, you say some pretty interesting things." He watched her gulp, hard. "Did Prue get this shit for you? Steal it from Bobby's house?"

Clearly Dean had gotten the wrong idea from her sleepy ramblings, but this was what she wanted, wasn't it? She bit the inside of her lip until she drew blood… and kept biting.

"It's ok. You wanted us gone…? We're gone. Don't you or your fucking sister ever call us again." Dean snapped, staring at her in disgust, until he realized she was bleeding. Tears, he could have ignored. Her choking on her own blood-Dean cursed under her breath and got her to the bathroom, bending her over the toilet. "Are you cursed again?" he demanded of her, even though he knew better than to expect a response. "You had better not be cursed again, damn it, I'm mad at you."

So, Like, I don't own Bea or Deaners, but I so wish I did. You like, don't even understand. But this is like, my first supernatural fanfiction, so reviews are love, 'kay guys?

LovenA: KikiDecoupage

A/N: So. The point of this story is actually to be a companion fanfic to one of the RP I'm doing with two friends of mine. There will likely be more stories like this coming from me when i get inspired to write them. KikiDecoupage and pals are Fanfic writers meant to write stories as though Beatrice Dawson, Shaun Mars, And Prudence Aurelie Jaeger were an actual part of the series. So if you want to borrow Prue, Send me a message, I'll send you a picture of what i intend for her to look like and her basic personality.