Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1693097.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Underage
  Category:
      F/M, Gen
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Rhonda_Hurley/Dean_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      Drabbles, sometimes_full_on_porn, Anal_Play, Anal_Sex, Kink, Spanking,
      Bondage, Fluff, Sporadic_Updates, end_game_is_not_Rhonda/Dean, highschool
      romance, Bfwb, Best_friends_with_benifits, Alternate_Universe_-_BDSM
  Series:
      Part 3 of The_Gift_of_Grace
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-05-26 Updated: 2015-03-06 Chapters: 2/5 Words: 4128
****** You and I (Both Loved) ******
by DeathjunkE
Summary
     The future lay sparkling ahead, and we thought we would know each
     other forever."
     -Sleepers (1996)
     Rhonda Hurley and Dean Winchester were good friends. Sometimes they
     played at being more than that every once in a while. They that like
     all things in life that this too was temporary, and so they made the
     most of it.
Notes
     This has not been beta read.
     This series is on going and i am in the process of writing the
     stories. However this is my last year of college and so, my time is
     super limited. please be patient.
     This is not part 2 of At Last His Grace.
     This is more or Dean/Rhonda because I waned them to have more time
     together (and lay the ground work for a later story).
***** Soft *****
Dean wasn't much used to softness. He lived in a car with his dad and brother.
There was not much of anything soft in his life. But Rhonda was soft.
Every last thing about her, from her birdsnest hair and low gravelly voice to
her fleshy thighs and her hot tight cunt— She was soft, welcoming and almost
never gentle.
But that was just fine. Dean had no real need for gentle, he relished it when
she showed her tender secret self, he liked being the one she let her guard
down for, but usually that came after she had been demanding and perhaps a
touch cruel. Rhonda loved to tease him with her rope, cane and her casual
mastery of his body. She knew just how go caress him, how tight the ropes
needed to be depending on his mood and how thoroughly she wanted to use him.
Dean lay blissfully in the dark of the Hurley's basement in Rhonda's bed, his
head pillowed on her thigh as she kneaded and massaged the muscles that Dean
knew would be stiff the next day if he didn't shower before he went to bed.
There wasn’t a real need for conversation at this point. There was nothing he
needed to say and Rhonda was busy humming along to a Pearl Jam song that was
playing on the radio. Dean winced as Rhonda worked a cramp out of his forearm,
but he stayed quiet and mostly still.
She didn't let up until the muscle in her grasp gave in and relaxed under her
steady hand. When the pain subsided she pressed her lips to the muscle and
continued on to rolling and rubbing dean's palms. The eucalyptus massage balm
smelled weird but did its job, penetrating the callouses left by years of
handling shovels and guns. Rhonda worked methodically on each and every one of
Dean's limbs before she started in on his neck and shoulders.
Dean lay there in the dimly lit basement on Rhonda’s hedonistic nest of pillows
and down comforters with her soft and unyielding touch and for the first time
in a long time he let himself fully relax, unconcerned about anything other
than the heaviness of his limbs and eyelids.
***** Empty your hands *****
Chapter Summary
     Not beta read. you've been warned
Tomorrow was supposed to be special. It was Dean’s birthday. According to Dean
his dad was away again and his brother had soccer practice after school. There
were no plans to celebrate and so Rhonda had made her own plans. Being a
latchkey-kid had its advantages and the time that she had to plan and carry out
scenes was certainly one of them.
All in all she felt kind of stupid preparing something big like this. They
weren’t dating, not really, Dean's father would move them when he got his next
work assignment and Dean would leave, but it seemed important to celebrate.
Dean didn’t seem to care about his own birthday, but Rhonda wasn’t used to
birthdays passing by quietly. Dean wasn’t her boyfriend, but they were good
friends who talked to each other all the time, scene and play with each other,
and on occasion fucked each other too. But here she was getting ready for
tomorrow like the most attentive of girlfriends. She had prepped the food she’d
be cooking as well. The steaks were sitting in a tupperware in the refrigerator
already seasoned, the peas had been shelled and were sitting in a bowl under a
damp towel, scrubbed and seasoned potatoes were wrapped in aluminum foil and
made from scratch apple blackberry pie was also refrigerated and ready to be
put in the oven.
Rhonda rolled her shoulders and surveyed items on her bed. A brand new pair of
red panties, a lacy black demibra, jezebel red lip stick and matching nail
polish, a black garter belt and matching lace thigh high stockings. She grinned
knowing she’d be wearing almost everything tomorrow. Rhonda crouched down to
dig through her chest of rope. She had a proverbial rainbow of colors to choose
from. Her fingers touched red, then blue, then the toyed with the corner of the
bag of bright bubblegum pink before finally settling on the glass bottle green
set of rope she had dyed just to match his eyes.
Stood up looked in her mirror and sighed. She wished she was pretty like the
other girls she went to school with. There was nothing special about her at
all. She was plain brown; her hair was thick and curly brown mess that touched
her shoulder blades when she let it loose, her skin was brown and her eyes were
a dark boring brown as well. She wasn’t shapeless but she wasn’t shapely
either. Her hips were wider than the rest of her body, her stomach was soft and
pudgy, the excess fat gathering in a roll around her waist and her breasts that
should be perky with youth hung there, unappealing and uninteresting. Her
features were soft and neutral, there was nothing eye catching or lovely about
her she was plain, adding to her total lack of appeal was her usual style of
dress. She never cared for the flashy dresses and ornate studded pants most
Dom's wore. She preferred to dress casually in her jeans and sweaters. Besides
clothing could only enhance what you had naturally and she wasn't pretty-- the
kids she went to school with made sure she damn well knew it.
Rhonda snorted at her reflection and snatched the nail polish off of the bed.
That was something else she could do tonight with out worrying. Carefully she
painted her toes red and then her fingers.
(-)
 
"Woah! Who're you impressing today Ron?"
"Who says I'm impressing anyone? Can't a girl dress nice every once in a
while?" She grumbled as she lowered her ass into the impala's passenger seat.
She watched Dean watch her as she kept her thighs pressed together as she
pulled her legs into the car. The movement was uncharacteristically feminine of
her, and she knew it.
"I didn't even know you owned a dress!" Dean chuckled as he pulled away from
the curb. "let alone one so..." Dean wiggled his eyebrows and Rhonda pulled at
the short black fabric of her skirt.
It wasn't anything exotic or all that flashy. Just a black pencil skirt with a
fitted black blouse. She had wrapped a long red satin scarf around her waist to
break up the black and make it look like she was wearing a dress and paired the
while look with red pumps and glittering bracelets.
"Yeah, well..." Rhonda shrugged and pushed her hair away from her face, "Happy
birthday."
"Thanks."
"You got plans to celebrate later?"
"No,"
"Good. Meet me at the doors when the lunch bell rings. I've got plans." Rhonda
said as she flipped through her notebook
"Don't tell me you got all dolled up for me?" Dean leered at her appreciatively
a slow smirk spreading over his lips.
"Shut up and drive, asshole..." The girl grunted and turned her full attention
to her biology notes.
"That's really sweet, Ron." Rhonda stiffened when she felt Dean's rough
callused fingers pull her hand away from the notebook she was too embarrassed
to look away from and laced their fingers together. "Really Ronnie, you're the
greatest."
Rhonda refused to look up, her skin was dark enough that no one could tell
whether she was blushing or not but her face felt like it was on fire, and why
take the chance.
When they got to school Dean got out of the car first, raced around to the
passenger side door and pulled it open. He paused to help Rhonda out of the
car, going down on one knee besides the door in the traditional way, so that
Rhonda could either offer her hand to Dean, who would pull her from the car, or
She could place a hand on his shoulder to steady herself as she exited the car
on her own. Usually how the person got out of the car was determined by
Dynamic, subs offered their hands and Doms exited on their own. It was an old
gesture, rarely used by those who followed the old protocol. A gesture like
that was done in the movies but rarely ever in real life.
Dean had always thought that it was over the top and cheesy but some how here
with Rhonda, in the corner of the school parking lot it seemed appropriate.
There were whispers surrounding them, but Dean didn't even try to listen to
them.
As with all things Rhonda was unconventional. She twisted her hips in the seat,
keeping her legs together and putting her feet on the floor of the parking lot.
As she hauled her self up she took Dean's hand and pulled him to his feet. Dean
closed the door of the Impala, shouldered his back pack and they walked through
the crowds of milling students parting at their lockers to begin the day.
Rhonda fell into step with Dean as he walked down the hall, her heels clicking
abruptly with the rhythm of her stride. She adjusted the bag on her shoulder
and glowered at a group of chattering subs. “They talk about you a lot, you
know.”
“Who does?” Dean asked, his lips curved into his usual smirk.
“The everyone at that fucking prison of a school.” Rhonda picked up her pace
and got to the classroom door before Dean did and held it open for him. “You
shouldn’t have done that this morning.”
“Don’t worry about it Ron. That’s what happens when you’re the new kid. I’ve
been to so many schools already that I’m used to it. It’s the same everywhere.
Don’t go getting worked up over it.”
“People should just mind their own fucking business.”
“But they don’t, and they never will. Don’t get bothered n my account, I
couldn’t care less.”
“Yeah, alright.” she grunted as hip checked him as they made their way to their
seats.
                                      (-)
Dean shivered in anticipation. He never quite knew what to expect with Rhonda,
but so far she had yet to lead him astray. The first time they played, she had
wrapped him in her ropes and sat on the floor with him, petting and praising
until he was blessed out and feeling safer than he had since he was four years
old.
From that moment on every moment that it was just they played at being more
than just friends or fuck buddies. They didn’t put a name to it, and that was
purposeful. This was temporary, Dean had made sure she knew— his dad traveled
for work and it was only a matter of time before they moved again.
Rhonda didn’t mind it much. She was one of the few people he knew who could
swallow that reality and not dwell on it. “Let’s make the most of the time we
have then yeah?” She said when they were lying on their backs, sweaty, panting
and fucked out behind the bleachers.
It was the first time in years that Dean bothered wishing that he could stay.
That Dad would let them settle down in Arizona and hunt locally. It wouldn’t
happen, and he knew better than to ask, but that didn’t mean he didn’t secretly
wish that e could stay here in this town with the girl who let him be himself
and never judged him for it.
“Here we go.” Rhonda chirruped after sorting through one of her dresser draws.
She pulled out a pair of panties. They were baby pink boy short cut panties,
made of super soft cotton and fussy white lace. “Put these on for me.”
“You’re joking right?”
“Was I joking the last time?” Rhonda asked with an arched brow. Dean pursed his
lips and took the panties from her hand. They were soft and they would have
looked pretty on a girl, any girl really but especially Rhonda with her brown
skin. “Go on, Darling. Get a move on before I decide to help you.”
Dean sighed and fingered the waistband of the panties. He didn’t want to put
them on here in front of her but he did. He delicately stepped into the
undergarment and pulled it up along his legs slowly with trembling fingers. It
was so smooth and silky that he couldn’t help but shudder at the sensation.
Dean tugged them up over his ass and then pressed his cock close to his belly
as he arranged himself with in the confines of the fabric.
Dean kept his eyes fixed on the ground as he felt his ears, face and chest grow
hot and red with embarrassment. Every time Rhonda pulled a pair of panties out
of her draw for him it was the same. He’d slip them on reluctantly and
immediately his cock would fill and make the panties bulge, some time it even
dribbled and wet the fabric.
It was so embarrassing the way she could easily see how much he enjoyed the
panties.
“Hey there Gorgeous. Let me see those eyes.” Rhonda cooed, coming closer to
Dean, stepping into his personal space and cradling his face in the palm of her
right hand. When Dean didn’t look up on his own she tilted his head back until
he had no choice but to look at her.
Dean felt his blush deepen as she pressed against him, her free hand rubbing
his cock through the fabric of the panties. It was obvious how hard he was with
just the stupidly simple lace panties for stimulation, and the fact that she
knew made his eyes sting and itch.
“Aw, lovely don’t cry.” Rhonda soothed, her voice unusually soft.
Unable to resist Dean blinked and smirked at the opportunity he couldn’t help
but take. “It’s my birthday. I can cry if I want too.”
Rhonda laughed uproariously, a deep belly laugh that made her snort and cover
her mouth and nose with both hands. Dean grinned and wiped his cheeks off. The
tension had dissipated and the gut wrenching feeling of mortification eased
down to light embarrassment.
“Don’t cry yet, Dean. I’ve got plans!” With out further ado she led him by the
hand to her bed and sat him down. “Close your eyes and don’t open them until I
tell you.”
Dean did as she asked —he always did— and he flinched a bit as he felt her
going over his eye lids with something or another. There was a strange pulling
sensation followed by a gentle sweeping. It felt odd but so did many things.
“Don’t open your eyes yet. Part your lips.”
She smeared what felt like lip balm on his lips casually using her finger and
not the stick itself. It slipped across his mouth easily and he could smell the
faint chemical smell of artificial cherry.
“Well I always knew you were pretty… but goddamn…” Rhonda pulled back and Dean
felt her stand up and step away. “Don’t open your eyes yet.” There was a
scraping sound, a few grunts and two clicks before the bed dipped behind him
with her weight. “Okay Darlin’, you can open up now”.
Dean opened his eyes and was immediately confronted with the image of himself.
Rhonda had pushed her full-length mirror in front of him. After meeting the
eyes of his reflection Dean ducked his head and averted his eyes to the floor.
“None of that, Stand up.” When Dean Didn’t comply Rhonda slapped his thigh,
brisk and hard. “Up, Dean.”
Dean flowed to his feet and kept his eyes on the ground. But like always,
Rhonda got her way. She gripped the longer hair to the back of his head and
tugged his head up and watched him in the mirror until he met her eyes in the
glass. “Look at yourself. Look how pretty you are, just for me.”
“I’m not a girl Ron. I didn’t need the make up.”
“I know you’re not a girl, but I’m gonna fuck you deep and hard like most girls
like it. It’s gonna feel so good that you’re gonna cry. Doesn’t that sound
nice?” Rhonda cajoled and bit firmly at Dean’s neck wrapping her free arm
around him from behind when he hissed and his knees trembled. “Get on the bed.
Hands and knees face the mirror.”
Dean, eager to please, scrambled onto the bed and took his position. In the
mirror he carefully watched Rhonda instead of himself, and was surprised to
realize that when his eyes were closed she had fished out her strap on.
Dean kept his gaze on her bright purple cock, watching eagerly and nervously as
she lubed it up. It wouldn’t be the first time she put something in his ass.
Usually she filled him with plugs before they went for walks or lunch or to the
movies and once or twice she made him ride a dildo as she watched, thighs
clenching and rubbing as her arousal grew.
“Like it?” She asked, meeting his eyes in the mirror once more. “It’s no where
near as impressive as you are, but a girl’s gotta work with what she’s got
yeah?”
“Yeah.” Dean licked his lips, and pulled a face at the taste of the gloss.
“It only smells like cherry.” Rhonda said as put a steadying hand on his hip
and tugged his panties aside with the other.
Dean flushed and looked down at his hands. She wasn’t going to pull them down
or rip them off or anything, she was just going to fuck him like a he was an
easy and sure lay in the janitor’s closet. It was so embarrassing, but Dean had
to take a deep breath to not rut against the air.
“Look at that blush! I didn’t know you could be so red.”
Dean heard the smirk on Rhonda’s voice as she teased him, he didn’t want to
look at it too, but when she smacked his ass twice —hard— he took the hint and
picked his head up to look at the mirror once more. Dean’s eyes looked around
the mirror frantically as he felt her ease her long slender slippery fingers
into him, wanting to look at anything but himself in such a compromising
position.
“Look at that pretty boy, on my fingers. Do you know him?”
Dean gasped as he felt the two fingers nudge up against his prostate, the
pressure of it feeling so good and so right that he couldn’t help but buck his
hips back in an attempt to get more of the feeling.
“You’re not looking. Look at my pretty boy.” Rhonda encouraged as she added a
third finger to the mix and making Dean’s mouth drop open and his eyes flutter.
“If you’re not going to take the time to appreciate him then maybe I should
just stop.”
When Rhonda stilled her fingers Dean sobbed and tried to push back on them but
was only deterred by a sharp and painful slap to the thigh. It felt so good why
would she stop!
“Go on and look at that lovely darling in the mirror. Tell me about him.”
“Rhonda please—”
“No. Do as I say.”
Dean took a shuddering breath and looked directly at himself in the mirror. He
was surprised to see that he didn’t actually have on any make up except for the
cherry lip balm. It was a mind fuck, her running over his eyelids with a clean
make up brush to make him think she’d done him up. “He’s got freckles.”
“I know! Aren’t they great.” She ran her lube free hand down his back, her palm
large dry and warm— a comfort. “They’re everywhere. On his back, on his perky
little ass, even on his toes.”
Dean felt the heat in his face as Rhonda pressed closer to him, her fingers
moving just a bit.
“Tell me more about this boy… I’m very curious.”
“You have eyes don’t you.”
That warm hand on his back was in his hair and pulling him up onto his knees
and bowing his back until Dean was forced to lean against Rhonda to keep his
balance. With her face next to his she gave him a bland look and asked, “Do you
want me to paddle your ass on your birthday instead of fucking it?”
“No, Ma’am.” He muttered mortified that she’d even had to reprimand him, let
alone threaten to paddle his ass for him.
“Then you better start coopering quick.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
Rhonda withdrew her fingers entirely and circled them around her silicone cock,
carefully lining up the bulbous head of it with Dean’s wanton pulsing hole.
“Good, now take a look in that mirror and tell me, how hot that boy who is
about to be on my cock is.”
“I don’t know.” Dean whiled and tried to push back, wanting to be filled again
and feeling that stretch and pressure once more.”
“I’ll make it easy for you. Tell me what makes him so pretty?”
“Please, I don’t know… I don’t know! My eyes?”
“Yes. You’ve got lovely eyes. They’re so green and so kind. You’re very
observant Dean, and unlike other people you don’t use it to be cruel. I know
how you help people. You see that they need help and you offer it, with out
asking for anything in return. You’ve got kind eyes.”
Dean blamed his tears on the stretch of Rhonda’s cock entering him and inching
past this rings of interior muscles and nerves.
“Go on, tell me more.”
Dean scrambled to think of the things he’d heard the people in the seedy motels
and bars he’s been in with his dad say about him. They thought he was pretty
too. “My mouth— my mouth. Cock sucking lips.”
“Yes your mouth, it’s very nice. You’re honest in your own way, you say what
you think, you don’t give a damn if it’s against what other people say, or do,
or feel, because if you know something isn’t right you’ll call them out on it.
It’s a good trait for a mouth. A very good use of a mouth far better than cock
sucking, though I will say you’re a smart ass, and I’ve come to appreciate
that.”
Dean’s eyes were trained on his reflection and he watched as his tears dribbled
down his cheeks and dripped off of his chin. He looked at his body, hard
pressed to find something else that Rhonda couldn’t twist into her romanticized
version of him. “Muscles?”
“Well yeah, you’re definitely fit.” Rhonda muttered between nibbling on his ear
lobe and shallowly pumping her hips until bit-by-bit she bottomed out into
dean’s ass, pressing her body flush against his. “I do like that aesthetically,
but it also it lets me know that I can trust you. All that strength— all that
agility and you’ve never ever tried to hurt me. I feel safe with you. I’d be a
fool not to.”
And that was the end of Dean’s rope— he started crying right then, ugly heaving
sobs and tears. Rhonda pressed her body against his back and bent him forward
until his shoulders were on the bed, arms cradling his head and ass high in the
air as she slowly and sweetly fucking and grinding into him— her body covering
his own and whispering praises into his ear.
When Dean had come it was with a hoarse barely there shout and endless sobbing.
Rhonda eased her cock out of Dean and stepped away from the bed to her attached
bathroom where she made short work of undoing the harness and dropping the
dildo into a basin of sudsy water she had prepped before wetting down two was
cloths and tucking a box of tissues under her arm.
She approached the bed and dean’s limp sobbing body like she did everything
else, with false bravado and a firm hand. With out saying a word she used one
of the hot cloths to wipe his face free of tears, she trained it down his neck,
his back, over his cock and balls and used it to wipe away the lube from his
crac before tossing it aside.
“Roll over for me, babe.” Rhonda prompted. When dean complied she used the
fresh cloth to wipe the cum from his belly and loosened the comforter. “Come
get in the bed, I’m going to want to get under the covers once I wipe myself
down too.”
Dean nodded, still feeling the after effects of their scene but going
willingly. Dean curled into himself under the dove gray comforter and pressed
his face into one of the obscenely fluffy pillows.
He was asleep before Rhonda could even turn around.
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