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Beau squeezes his waist between his hands, fingers digging in, not harsh enough to really hurt, but harsh in that way that Dean likes, and Dean's back arches off the couch beautifully in response.
"Fuck, Beau, ah," he moans, his hand reaching up to wrap around Beau's forearm, gripping tightly.
Beau gives him a slow, deep thrust in return, feeling Dean getting tight around him as he slowly pushes inside and stays still for a moment.
"Fuck, that feels fucking amazing," Dean mutters.
He blinks up at Beau, blinks with bleary eyes and pretty tears dripping down his temples, wetting his hair and the couch cushion under his head.
"God, you're beautiful," Beau tells him.
He doesn't mean to say it, it just slips out as he's staring down at Dean. He's so beautiful when they're like this.
When he's laid out on his back like this for Beau; wanting, trusting, vulnerable.
Dean smiles up at him; softly, lazily, his eyes turning into slits as he does, his dimples showing.
Beau leans down and licks his cheek, right over where his dimple is making a hole in his cheek, and Dean lets out a breathy laugh, huffing next to Beau's ear.
His laugh turns into a whine when Beau gives him another thrust, growing loud and louder as they fall back into a rhythm.
He's always so loud. So vocal.
It fuels Beau's deep need to keep making him feel good. Because he sounds so nice when he's getting fucked, because he has such an easy way about him when it comes to sex, because he acts like it's no big deal that they're tongue deep in each other's throats three times a week.
It is a big deal.
It might not be a big deal to Dean, but it is a big deal to Beau. It has always been a big deal to him, right from the very first time, and it'll always be a big deal to him, no matter how many times they do this.
Dean's body never becomes a normal sight to his eyes, the sounds he makes, the way he moves, the way he pulls Beau close and presses back against him, none of it will ever be normal.
It's always a sight. Always beautiful, pulling him in, keeping him close. His skin is a spell, his eyes an enchantment; pulling him in and never letting him go.
Beau isn't sure if he wants to be let go of.
He lets go of Dean's waist to grab his hands, and Dean is quick to lace their fingers, intertwining their hands, almost mindlessly. He doesn't seem to even notice it.
He squeezes Beau's hands in his. "Come on, Beau, faster."
Beau has to bite his lip to keep himself from purring Whatever you want, beautiful.
Way too cheesy.
And too... revealing, is probably the word for how it makes Beau feel. Makes him feel naked, not in a good way.
He squeezes Dean's hands back, and picks up the pace.
They get lost in it, in the movement, in the feel of it, in the sounds their bodies make when pressed against each other.
It's probably why Beau doesn't hear it; the front door opening.
Dean hears it though. Beau knows he does, because he opens his eyes, looking to the side over Beau's shoulder. There's that special glint in the blue of his eyes when he notices.
It takes a moment, and then he hears footsteps, several people walking close.
"Fucking- Dean!" Garrett is the first to snap.
"Guys, come on!" Logan snaps as he quickly walks past the couch. "This is the third time this week! For fuck sake; he has a fucking room here!"
"This is the fourth time this week, actually," Tucker says sourly, his voice getting quieter as he runs up the stairs behind Logan.
"Not like Dean ever closes the door when he's fucking in his room," Garrett mutters.
Beau can't tell if he sounds annoyed or amused.
He doesn't really care either way. Dean says it's fine; then it's fucking fine. Dean's roommates can nag about it as much as they want.
Beau knows Dean loves it; the whole public sex thing. It's hard to miss, really, with the way his eyes shine whenever someone walks in on them, the way he smirks as people express disgust at his behavior.
Beau doesn't really have any feelings on public sex. It's whatever to him.
But that look on Dean's face, that specific look that only being in this position can bring out; it's one of his favorite looks on Dean.
He still has it, that special glint in his eyes, as he throws his head back with a loud moan and comes.
Beau can hear loud cursing from upstairs in response, and it makes him laugh as he leans down to press his face against Dean's throat and kiss his sweaty skin.
Dean pushes back against him, humming lazily.
"You done?" He asks after a moment.
"Nope." Beau licks under his jaw, biting him there softly.
"You wait a little longer and Logan will come down to kick us out. Butt naked."
Like that's gonna stop Dean. He'll just keep going on the porch.
He grabs Beau by the hair, and turns his face around, bringing their mouths together.
"Come on, you're a big boy. I'm sure you can do it," he whispers mockingly, before pressing their lips together.
Asshole.
Beau bites his tongue, making Dean hiss in the kiss, and he digs his fingers in Beau's side in retaliation, hard enough that Beau knows he's gonna carry the marks of his nails for a while after today.
The thought is what makes him come.
Fucking embarrassing.
He moans between the wet slide of their lips, moaning Dean's name, and he can feel Dean smiling.
"Good boy," he says softly.
"Shut up," Beau tells him, grabbing his face with both hands and kissing him again.
Dean doesn't protest.
They make out like that for a while, laid out on the couch, satisfied and spent. Beau brushes his fingers under Dean's beautiful eyes, over his full cheeks, and Dean has a hand on his back, holding him close.
His mouth tastes like the ice cream they had after class today, before he dragged Beau home with him, overly sweet as he likes his ice cream, and disgusting as Beau always tells him.
"Fourth time?" Beau asks him between kisses, his mind finally catching up with what the others said.
"Fourth time what?"
"Tuck said this is the fourth time this week."
"Hmm, yeah," Dean hums, his hand crawling up Beau's back to tangle in his hair.
Beau feels the muscles of his thighs tightening under him, before Dean pushes his body down, thrusting himself on Beau's cock.
"Ahh," he moans as he feels Dean's warmth shifting around him. "I don't remember one of them."
"Monday, after your game, here, in the kitchen."
Beau still doesn't remember it.
"You were drunk," Dean explains more, still trying to fuck himself on Beau's dick, "I fucked you against the kitchen counter."
"I still don't-"
"Does it really matter right now? We've fucked a hundred times all over this house! Can you focus on fucking me now?"
Beau laughs.