Chapter Text
Bite me.
Those words slipped too often from lips that were made to be bitten. From a mouth that had been created for sucking cock. At least in Monroe’s eyes. He hadn’t known the guy long at all but fuck if he didn’t want to take him up on the offer.
When he’d first met the impetuous hunter with mischievous eyes and a jawline cut from marble, he’d wanted to rearrange his face. Hell, Monroe wanted to rearrange almost everyone’s face with his fists, but Dean… Dean was a smartass, too mouthy for his own good, and practically begged to have the attitude fucked out of him. So instead he’d hired him to work for the private security company he owned part of, knowing that a guy like Dean would be a good asset to the team.
His company, Ryker Regent, named for his best friend and business partner Lucian Ryker, not only did civilian work, but they also supported law enforcement and took overseas military contracts. Most of their people were former or active military or law enforcement and a hunter like Dean, well he was a damn good fit. Or would be soon, once he went to training.
But now, now Monroe really had a problem. That “bite me” mouth had sassed him over fucking text message and Monroe could only handle so much. Deciding why the fuck not, he drove his Ryker issued Jeep out to where he knew Dean lived and knocked on the door.
From inside came a faint, “It’s open!” So he stepped inside and took a look around. A bunker. Well that was fucking interesting.
“You know, only trolls live in underground caves.” He said, heading down the stairs to see Dean seated at a table reading, sock feet propped up on it. His eyes went straight to that fucking mouth though, ignoring everything else.
“Well, then I must be a troll because I like my cave.” Dean snarked, a smirk tugging at those lips. “To what do I owe the misery of your visit?”
Monroe reached down and wrapped his hand in the front of Dean’s shirt, all but yanking the taller man to his feet. “I’m here to make good on my threat to bite you.” Dean had said it enough times that Monroe had finally snapped and said he would bite him, and well, here he was.
Dean had been about to say something but it seemed to flee his mind he second Monroe had yanked him to his feet and now they stood staring, lips only inches apart. “Go on, then. What are you waiting for?”
Monroe knew this was a bad idea. He was about to be this man’s boss and kissing him was just inappropriate. But damn it, the grin playing on Dean’s face had any good intentions thrown out the window.
With a quick raise of his brow, he closed the distance and none too gently pressed their mouths together. Moving his lips against Dean’s, he sank his teeth into that perfect lower one with a soft growl.
Dean for one was fucking glad. This cat and mouse game they’d been playing for awhile had been agonizing and then finally their lips were together. The growl sent a thrill down his spine and damn it made him want more, despite who happened to be kissing him right now. A hand lifted, sliding to grip the back of Monroe’s neck.
Monroe realized Dean was kissing back and he wasn’t sure if he was happy or shocked at the prospect. He pushed him against the table and deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue between parted lips, fingers still curled in the hunter’s plaid shirt.
This wasn’t going as bad as Dean had expected. Hell, in fact it was going quite well and for once they weren’t arguing. He let himself be moved, kissing just as heated as he himself was being kissed, strong fingers sliding to curl in Monroe’s shirt, mirroring the man’s own move.
When Monroe finally pulled back, his eyes were dark and he was breathless. He licked his lips but made no moves to let the other man go. “Well..I bit you.” He muttered softly, almost wanting to do it again.
“You call that biting?” Dean wasn’t ready to be done either and deciding pissing Monroe off to get what he wanted was easier than asking. His grip on the man tightened and he pulled him closer.
Monroe huffed faintly at the words. “Never said how hard I’d bite you, but if you’re looking for bruises, I’m happy to oblige.” He muttered, sliding a hand up the back of Dean’s neck to curl in his short hair.
It took everything in Dean not to make some smartass comment, but he couldn’t help but think that he might not mind getting a little rough. “Maybe next time.” Breathed the Winchester, pulling Monroe even closer by the hands curled in his shirt.
Dean definitely wasn’t letting go so Monroe just went with it and kissed him again, lips and tongue taking what he’d wanted since he’d met the frustratingly sexy hunter he was holding. It irritated him that he wanted to kiss this man, touch him, so he poured that frustration into the intimate contact.
The hunter couldn’t help but smile against those lips, kissing the soldier back. He took everything the other man gave him, not even slightly disappointed in how this was going. In fact, he was almost surprised that Monroe could be like this, considering the rough, mean exterior he always projected for everyone to see.
Monroe made sure to kiss Dean good and thorough before he pulled away, stepping away to run a hand though his curly hair. He felt confused as hell because he’d kissed a lot of people but this..was different. He was a love ‘em and leave ‘em kinda guy, but this felt different. “Right..well…”
Dean straightened from where he’d ended up against the edge of the table, watching the other man put space between them. “..so, yeah. Uh, nice of you to drop by.” He paused, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Want a beer?” Without waiting for an answer, he headed to the kitchen to fetch them both one, also trying to figure out what the hell had just happened.
Monroe was almost glad Dean had left the room and he turned his back, again running fingers through his hair. What was he doing here? What was happening? One thing about Monroe that everyone who knew him was aware of, was how much he hated to be touched. A hand on his shoulder was likely to get you broken fingers, but here he was, wanting that man’s hands back on him. Causal sex was one thing. If he wanted someone and they were into it, he fucked them and that was that. But Monroe didn’t do feelings.
Dean stood in front of the open fridge, a soft sigh leaving his lips as he wrapped a hand around the necks of two bottles of beer. Closing the door, he headed back out to Monroe and offered him one. “I hope this is fine. All I’ve got at the moment. Haven’t been to the store recently.” Small talk. He sucked at small talk and now he found himself trying to do just that. Dammit, Monroe. Any other person and he would have been calm, collected, able to be in control of the situation and do what he wanted. But right now it was the exact opposite and it made him feel weird and off balance. He could imagine Monroe was feeling much the same since he wasn’t being all smartass either.
Monroe took the offered bottle, twisting off the cap and sipping. “Had worse.” He looked around again, taking in the view now that he wasn’t so laser focused on Dean’s mouth. “This place is weird. You actually live here?”
Monroe’s response to Dean’s beer of choice made him chuckle faintly and he felt more relaxed now. Funny how they’d been making out moments earlier only to go back to being their normal selves a few minutes later. “Yes, I live here. And there is more to this place than meets the eye.” Dean motioned for Monroe to follow as he moved down a hallway, starting a tour of the place. “Made this place my home and it’s off the grid. Don’t need anything else.” He said as they walked, beers in hand.
Monroe, being the soldier and man he was, was already memorizing the layout, a map forming in his head. And he definitely wasn’t checking out Dean’s ass in those jea- He shook his head faintly to clear it. “I’m a paranoid son of a bitch and even I don’t live underground.” He finally said with a snort.
Dean couldn’t help but laugh at the mention of being paranoid, as they’d reached the control room that kept tabs on all things supernatural. “It’s not that bad, believe it or not. And no neighbors to bother me.” He moved on into the garage where his Impala sat, as well as a few other cars in the collection that he loved to show off and tinker with when he had time.
Monroe raised a brow at this and walked through the room, taking time to look at each one. “Not bad at all.”
“Thanks.” Dean said, following Monroe this time. “My favorite room in the place. Kinda like a real life bat cave.” Mused the hunter before turning out the lights to finish the tour, skipping the panic room and the dungeon. He didn’t want to freak him out.
Monroe nodded at this. “I only have two vehicles, and one is work issued. More of a weapons guy.” He mused quietly.
“We have plenty of those too, between my brother and I.” But it was another room he didn’t show the man because there was too much to explain. Artifacts. Books of spells and dead languages, not to mention ingredients for said spells. Monroe already thought him odd he figured, so why make it worse?
Monroe lowered in a chair and stretched out his legs, drinking down most of the beer. Why was he even still here? He came here to bite the guy and leave. “Brother?” He had one brother by blood, whom he hadn’t seen for twenty years by choice, and then Ryker who was more of a brother to him than his actual brother.
“Yeah, younger brother.” He said, finding a seat himself and nodding, though he rarely saw Sam these days. He finished off his beer and leaned forward to set the empty bottle on the table. Now he’s thinking he should have drank it slower and about how he should get up and get them another one. But all he can really focus on is the make out session earlier and the feel of Monroe’s lips on his.
Monroe wasn’t far behind, letting the cheap taste of beer wash the taste of Dean from his mouth. But he instantly regretted it. He knew he couldn’t kiss him again, wouldn’t because that’s just something he didn’t do. He didn’t like people. He didn’t like Dean.
Dean watched the other man’s face furrow in thought, and he could tell something was going on his head and dammit if he didn’t want to know. “How are you feeling with that concussion?” He finally asked instead.
Monroe, still an active duty soldier, had been injured on a Special Forces mission with his team a few days previously. Maybe that’s why Monroe was looking weird, or maybe he too was feeling odd about the earlier kissing.
Monroe glanced up, his concussion the last thing on his mind. “Had worse. No big deal. Was thrown about ten feet by a mortar blast, but I’m fine.” He also had purpling bruises along his ribs, a couple scrapes on his face.
“That’s nothing to shake a stick at.” Dean well remembered how many times he’d been thrown around during his more active hunting days. Wasn’t a good hunt if you didn’t get stitches or a head injury. “Either way, glad you made it out.”
Monroe shrugged, fingers dragging along the scrape near his jaw. “Figured you’d be glad to be rid of my ass.”
Dean’s emerald eyes followed the movement of Monroe’s fingers, memorizing the definition and structure of his jaw, finally looking away as Monroe spoke. “Wouldn’t say that exactly.” Dean couldn’t take it anymore and he stood, heading the kitchen to distract himself by getting them more beer.
Monroe had felt Dean’s gaze and he did his best to ignore it, cursing softly to himself as Dean left the room. It was frustrating to want to kiss him again and he knew he had to leave before he did something he regretted.
Dean again opened the fridge, his heart racing in his chest. He couldn’t even focus on what he was in here for because all he wanted to be doing was kissing the other man again. Where the hell had this guy even come from? Didn’t they dislike each other? The urge won however, and he called out, “Hey. Come here and help me with something.”
Monroe, who had stood to leave, sighed softly. How much help could one person need grabbing a couple beer bottles? But he headed in there anyway. “What, can’t find the fridge?”
Just do it, Dean thought to himself. And just like Monroe had done to him, he simply sprung it on him, stepping forward to grab him by the shirt. The hunter, taller by a couple inches and broader, pushed Monroe back against the counter and slotting their mouths together. This time it was his teeth in Monroe’s bottom lip.
Monroe had swung his hands up to defend against what he’d instinctively seen as an attack but realized what was happening before he hurt the guy. His faint noise of surprise was smothered by a warm mouth and his hands fell to Dean’s hips to steady himself as his body was shoved against the counter.
Ryker, Monroe’s best friend and Dean’s new boss, had warned Dean that this was the man’s reaction to being touched and to surprises so he’d expected it. But when no pain came and hands settled on his hips, he deepened the kiss, pushing his tongue between willing lips. He uncurled his fingers from Monroe’s shirt, letting them slide against the lean muscle hidden under the soldier’s tshirt.
Monroe was supposed to be in control of himself. Really, he was. But having found himself pinned between a muscular body and a counter, with Dean kissing the hell out of him, he really..couldn’t think. Fuck. So he went with it, kissing back just as heated, letting his hands tuck up and under Dean’s tshirt, fingers spreading against warm skin with a soft groan. His brain felt fuzzy but he didn’t care.
Dean didn’t pull away until he needed to breathe, but even then he was mouthing down along his jaw to his neck. He loved the feeling of strong fingers on his skin and he pressed close, panting quietly against the man’s skin. So what if the guy was his new boss. He could keep it separate..for now. A soft sound left his lips even as they closed around a patch of skin to suck a mark into flesh.
Monroe’s kiss swollen lips parted in a nearly silent moan as he pushed a leg between Dean’s thighs, fingers traveling over the ridges of his ribs. This was a terrible idea but he couldn’t bring himself to care even as he turned them, pressing the hunter into the counter.
Dean had been rather enjoying having the upper hand in this whole situation, could feel Monroe’s pulse under his lips and he gasped faintly as they moved, positions changing instantly. His shirt was tugged over his head and Monroe’s mouth was now the one exploring, calloused fingers sliding over bare skin to grip his hips. The soldier’s mouth was less gentle, the mark definitely bruising against paler skin littered with freckles.
“Better not leave a fucking hickey.” He muttered, a smartass comment despite knowing it was far too late for such warnings. He could practically feel the small vessels bursting under the suction of Monroe’s mouth.
Monroe only grunted against Dean’s neck, sucking harder. “Too late.” He had a thing for marking his partners and he wanted Dean to remember whose mouth had been on him for days to come. Again his thigh slipped between Dean’s, further pinning him to the counter, a grin tugging at his lips as they found the other man’s again.
“What is this, high school again?” Dean managed to snark between kisses, not actually complaining because he liked it too damn much to do that. Though he’d probably never admit that out loud.
Monroe laughed and pressed his face into Dean’s cheek at the comment. “You are an asshole and I should stop indulging you right this second.” He murmured quietly, breath warm against Dean’s face.
The threat sent a shiver down Dean’s spine. Why he was so into this and this guy he didn’t know, but fuck. “Takes one to know one. Besides, you started all this.”
“I just came here to bite you and leave. Blaming the rest of this shit on you.” Monroe mused, dragging his teeth down Dean’s jaw.
A soft scoff left Dean’s lips as he replayed the actual bite behind closed lids. “I can deal with that. Wouldn’t be the first time someone has blamed me for shit.” His head tipped, a faint sound pulling from those lips.
A hand buried in his hair as Monroe tugged his head back, sucking another mark higher, right under Dean’s jaw. “Keep reacting like that and I’ll have you against this fucking counter, Winchester.”
Dean hadn’t expected the sharp pull to his hair so the moan that left his lips was just as sudden and unexpected. Then again, fingers in his hair, lips on his neck..all of it was working against him at this point.
Monroe took this as a sign to continue and a soft groan left his own lips. He hadn’t meant for it to go far but Dean’s skin was like a magnet for his mouth. “Fuck you, Winchester.” He managed before he found himself kissing the man senseless again.
The way his name sounded rolling off Monroe’s tongue was something Dean could get used to, he realized. Despite his lips being pretty damn busy, he managed a, “You first,” against Monroe’s mouth.
Monroe rolled his hips forward, the hard outline of his trapped cock sliding along the crease of Dean’s hip. He was so hard now, just from kissing this damn guy, and if they didn’t stop they’d be cumming in this kitchen at some point in the very near future.
Dean had no intentions of stopping now and his hands slid down to work on Monroe’s belt, popping the button the man’s jeans once he’d undone it. Monroe did the same, though he was much more finessed, undoing and yanking the belt from Dean’s jeans in one smooth movement.
Dean couldn’t help by be impressed by that and he pulled back enough to pull Monroe’s shirt up and over his head. Emerald eyes traced down the lines of lean muscle, fingers quickly following to map out the various battle scars. Monroe’s Ryker uniforms, though nice, hid everything underneath and damn Dean was enjoying his eyeful.
Monroe had never been shy about what he looked like. His job required him to be in peak physical condition and he’d been injured more than a few times in the line of duty. Knife wounds, a bullet hole. Even whip scars crisscrossed his back from a capture ten years ago that he wanted to forget. Dean’s fingers slid down over them and he could see in the man’s eyes as it registered what they were.
Neither of them said anything however and the moment his fingers wrapped around Dean’s now freed cock, all scars were forgotten in the face of pure pleasure. Dean moaned and his hips jerked forward into Monroe’s fist, precum smearing across his fingers.
“Fuck..” Came the beautifully groaned curse, his fingers gripping the back of Monroe’s neck to keep him close.
Monroe stroked the length, leaning into the nip at Dean’s lower lip, watching it swell slightly. The man was fucking gorgeous and Monroe wanted to wreck him in the worst way. He panted softly, his own cock throbbing in his undone jeans.
Dean wasn’t sure if Monroe was just this good or if it had just been awhile for him but damn. “F-fu-“ He stuttered, a hand blindly reaching to get Monroe free of his own pants.
Monroe let him, pushing his hips forward into Dean’s hand and pressing their mouths together again. Lips and tongues moved as if they’d kissed forever, hands stroking hard lengths between them. Monroe was fucking breathless in the face of such overwhelming pleasure as it wasn’t often he let people get this close. A tight hand was wrapped in his hair and his hips rolled forward into a firm fist, mouth open and panting against Dean’s.
Dean was clearly having trouble focusing as well, it was obvious by the glazed look his eyes when Monroe was able to open his own. He was sure they were a sight to see: pressed against a counter, pants around their knees, jerking each other like high schoolers who couldn’t make it to a bedroom. Dean meanwhile was just trying to make sure he didn’t cum embarrassingly quick like said high schoolers.
Dean was internally thanking God his brother wasn’t home. While it wouldn’t be the first time Sammy had walked in on him, caught fucking his new boss could be compromising. But for now Dean had a very good looking man in front of him, mostly naked, and all his. “Gotta idea..” He murmured, turning them so Monroe’s ass was the one pressed to the counter again. Dean slid to his knees, eyes sliding up to Monroe’s face. “I apologize in advance.”
Monroe watched Dean spit into his hand to slick it some before he took hold of his cock again, those fucking perfect lips closing around the tip. If he didn’t have better control he would’ve come right then and there. Dean’s free hand gripped his hip and Monroe hoped he left bruises.
He slid a hand into Dean’s hair with a groan, other fingers curling around the edge of the counter. He hadn’t expected this turn of events but he wasn’t about to stop it. That mouth that gave him entirely too much trouble was wrapped around his cock and fuck it felt so damn good.
Dean figured there were a couple ways this could go. Either they’d never talk about it again or he’d never hear the end of it. He thought about stopping but he was far too gone now and was enjoying himself way too much to abandon ship. His eyes fell shut as he began to move his head, a moan muted by the member in his mouth. It wasn’t often he gave up control, especially to a guy like Monroe.
Monroe wouldn’t lie. It was a thrill to have a guy like Dean, an in charge kinda guy, on his knees for him. Those perfect lips stretched around him was a hell of a sight and the way it felt. “Fuck yeah..” He murmured, tugging at Dean’s hair, enjoying the way the other man’s sounds vibrated against him. Dean’s eyes opened and he looked up through his lashes and again Monroe could’ve come from that alone.
Monroe thrusted shallowly into the wet, waiting mouth and Dean stilled to allow him to do so, both hands on the man’s hips, fingers digging in. The tongue however wasn’t still and Monroe moaned as Dean twisted it around him in a particular wicked way. He kept at it for a bit, enjoying the feeling but when he was close he pulled himself free, swallowing.
“We ending like this?” Because he was a few thrusts away from coming down the hunter’s gorgeous throat as it was, and he wasn’t sure how far Dean even wanted to go.
Dean was breathless, eyes fluttering open to fix on Monroe’s face, mind already made up. “Id prefer not to..” He murmured, leaving it up to Monroe.
Monroe tugged Dean to his feet and pressed their mouths together again in a hurried kiss, hands squeezing his ass. “Counter or bed?” He managed to ask, voice raspy with need.
To say Monroe was full of surprises was an understatement. And to be quite honest, Dean was loving it. He’d never imagined the man to be much of a kisser and now he was giving him all kinds of options. “Nice of you to be so considerate.” He murmured, hands all over the soldier because he just couldn’t stop himself.
Monroe pinched Dean’s ass and bit his lower lip hard enough to draw blood this time. “I’m a nice guy.” He murmured with a smirk, because generally, Monroe was anything but nice. He stepped out his pants and helped Dean do the same. “Make a decision or I will.”
Dean stepped free of his clothes and watched that smirk form on Monroe’s lips. Damn that looked good. “Who woulda guessed?” He grinned, licking his lips and reaching to thread his fingers in Monroe’s curls again. “We’re already this far into it.”
Monroe grinned as Dean’s mouth worked against his neck before he spun the man to face the counter, kicking his feet wider as if to search him. He dropped to his own knees, fingers pushing Dean’s ass cheeks apart, dipping close to run his tongue over a waiting hole.
Dean shuddered hard as Monroe went to work, fingers curling hard around the counter so his knees wouldn’t buckle. The warm, wet tongue licked into him, pulling a moan from deep in his chest as it began to work him open. Monroe had done this before, it was clear in the way he was playing Dean’s body like a fucking instrument.
A finger joined the tongue and Monroe felt the clench around it as Dean’s body reacted. He saw the hand wrap around his cock to keep from cumming but he didn’t stop. He worked him open faster, needing to be inside the hunter now before this was over for both of them. He finally pushed to his feet, mouth dragging over Dean’s shoulder as he pressed in close.
The first push of his hips had the head of his cock slipping into Dean and both of them moaned. He thrust, sinking deep and fully, shoving Dean’s hips into the counter. He bit into the thick muscle of the man’s shoulder, reminding him without words to breathe. He did and Monroe pulled back, thrusting in again as Dean relaxed around him.
Dean’s head dropped forward, chin to his chest as Monroe moved behind him. His hand had fallen away from his cock to brace himself against the counter and fuck. He shifted, changing the angle, and he jolted as the soldier’s cock dragged against his prostate. An arm went around his waist, pulling their bodies more firmly together. This was something straight out of a porno for Dean, or maybe better. Hell, definitely better.
“Atta boy..fucking gorgeous.” Words slipped from Monroe’s mouth before he could stop them, hips snapping harder into the man in his arms.
Dean was surprised to hear any sort of niceties coming Monroe but found he liked it. Wanted to hear more of it. He tipped his head, baring his neck and waited for those teeth to sink back into his skin.
Monroe was a weak man apparently and took the bait, his mouth eagerly closing on some unmarked skin. He reached a hand around and wrapped firm fingers back around Dean’s cock to stroke him in time with his hips, pushing them both toward a quick orgasm.
Dean moaned, body arching against Monroe. He’d had a feeling the sex would be good, but this was good. That familiar feeling was creeping through his extremities, burning like an out of control fire in the pit of his stomach. “Fuck..!”
Monroe wasn’t far behind. It was quick but they’d both been damn worked up just from kissing which hadn’t happened to either of them in..well a very long time. Maybe ever. Hips and hand working in sync, Monroe tugged Dean’s earlobe with his teeth. “Wanna watch you cum..”
Dean wanted to hate Monroe for how good this was, for how much he wanted to cum for him. “Bite me..” He murmured and as soon as he felt teeth sink into sink, harder than before, he came.
Monroe’s cock was clenched hard and Dean’s whole body tightened as he came apart. He gasped, Dean spilling between his fingers and that was all it took. He slammed himself into that sweet spot he’d found, Dean arching in his hold as he rode that wave, and Monroe came too. He filled the man, rolling his hips until they were both empty and panting.
The kitchen that had been loud with the echoes of moaning and sex fell quiet around them, the soft noise of breathlessness the only sound now. “Fucking hell…”
Dean agreed with that sentiment. He felt wrecked in the best way. Surprising them both, Monroe pulled free of him and turned Dean into his arms, pulling him against his chest and pressing his face into his cheek. Dean stayed quiet, arms loose around Monroe’s body as they stood pressed together.
Neither of them were the type of men for hugs or touching so this was fairly new to both of them. But it felt so right it was almost scary and finally Monroe stepped away and cleared his throat, turning to pick up his clothes.
Dean too started dressing, figuring he’d clean himself up later when Monroe left. They were still quiet and he pulled a couple more beers from the fridge when they were once again in their clothes. Monroe took his and leaned against the counter. He drank deeply, parched from a vigorous round of sex that had come fairly unexpectedly. He hadn’t come here for sex.
“Well..I should go.” Monroe muttered, setting the half empty beer aside and standing straight. He never stuck around after sex and he be damned if he started now.
It was clear by the look in Monroe’s eyes that he was having some sort of internal conflict and Dean wasn’t much better. He gave a nod. “Yeah. See you around, I guess.” They’d have to. Dean was about to work for the man’s company after all.
His fingers closed around his keys, feet lushing back into worn boots and Monroe gave a half nod that was more of a jerk with his head. “Yeah.”
Then he was gone and Dean was left standing in his kitchen, cold beer in his hand, and wondering what the hell had just happened.
-
The headache just wouldn’t quit and Monroe dug his fingers into his temples as he paced his kitchen. Three more Tylenol washed down with a beer and he sighed quietly, eyes glancing at his phone resting on the counter. He’d not slept well since he’d come home banged up from his last mission and less so since he’d had his lips on Winchester.
It wasn’t even the sex, and though that had been incredible, it was how he felt around Dean that was pissing him off. He was over forty years old and had gone his entire life without even so much as a crush on someone. Wasn’t even sure he was capable of such feelings until that damn hunter had settled on a barstool next to him a few months ago.
Over snarky conversations and sarcastic comments they’d developed an odd sort of back and forth and Monroe had even recruited Dean to work at Ryker. But it was more that that. He couldn’t get the man out of his head. Wanted to be in the room with him. Wanted to talk to him, touch him, smell him.
Swiping the phone off the counter, he pulled up Dean’s number and sent a message. Monroe: You’re a fucking asshole.
It didn’t take long for it to buzz against his palm and he swiped to open the message. Dean: Why the hell am I the asshole?
Monroe: Because I said so.
Dean: Yeah, Cause that’s a good reason. …
Monroe took another pull from his beer, still pacing the length of his kitchen, pissed off that he was feeling whatever it was he was feeling. Monroe: It is. Kinda wanna punch you now.
Dean wasn’t sure what the hell was happening. Monroe was clearly annoyed at him about something. Fine. Two could play this game. Dean: Fucking do it then if it makes you feel better. Don’t expect me not to punch you back though.
Of course he would punch him back and Monroe would welcome the pain. Maybe it would fix whatever the hell was wrong with him if Dean’s fist met his face. But he knew laying his fists against Dean’s body was the last thing he wanted to do right now. Monroe: It won’t.
Dean: Too bad for you.
Monroe: shut up.
Dean: You shut up.
A faint smirk tugged at Monroe’s lips. It was always like this in person too. Arguing. Sniping at each other. Both wanting the last word. Monroe: Fucking make me.
Dean stared at his phone for a moment, propping his legs up on the table. Dean: We really gonna play this game?
Monroe: Maybe. He sighed quietly, rubbing his fingers across the ache in his forehead. Monroe: Where the hell did you even come from?
Dean furrowed his brow at this text. Dean: What do you mean by that?
Monroe: Nevermind.
Dean: Don’t nevermind me. Tell me.
Monroe finished off his beer and tossed the bottle into the trash. Monroe: No.
Now Dean was annoyed too. Monroe was pissed off and being damn vague about why and now he was getting pissed off. Dean: You’re impossible.
Monroe: Im pissed.
Well that was stating the obvious, Dean thought. Dean: Why?
Damn deep question. Monroe: I just am. At you. At me. At all of it.
Well now it was making more sense. Dean had a feeling he knew what this was about now. Dean: Because we fucked? He chuckled softly, remembering the way the kissing had turned into them fucking like much younger men against his kitchen counter.
Monroe however didn’t wanna talk about it. Not really. Monroe: Forget it. I’m going to get drunk.
Dean: You’re killing me.
Monroe: You’re killing me. Fuck. Maybe Im already drunk.
Dean sighed quietly, lifting his own much cheaper beer to his lips and drinking. Dean: I don’t know what you want from me. But I have whiskey if you want it.
Monroe shook his head though he knew Dean couldn’t see it. Going back over there was a terrible idea. Monroe: I can’t be there right now. Mostly because he wanted nothing more than to be there and it scared the hell out of him.
Dean was hoping Monroe was going to take him up on it but he accepted the no for what it was. He too wasn’t the kind of guy who had more than one night stands these days. He’d learned a long time ago that he wasn’t built for relationships, that he was too fucked up from what he’d been through to put that on someone else. But Monroe..Monroe was broken too. He could see it and damn if he didn’t want to fix him a little. Dean: Later then? I’m not forcing you to do anything.
Very few people could force Monroe to do anything. Monroe: I know. I just..
Dean: You’re just what? I can’t read your mind, Monroe.
Monroe: Thank fuck.
Dean huffed quietly at this. Dean: Probably be scared to know what’s going on in that head of yours.
Monroe: Yeah.. By this point he’d lowered onto a barstool next to his counter with a quiet sigh, tired of pacing.
Dean: And you say I’m the asshole.
Monroe: You are.
Dean: Right. If you say so. Dean wasn’t gonna argue about it. If Monroe wanted to be angry, let him.
Monroe: This is all your fault.
Dean: How the fuck is this all my fault? Angry was one thing. Blaming all of this on him, though? That was another.
Monroe was tired and he was in pain and his fingers were typing before he even fully processed what he was saying. Monroe: Because I don’t want to want you so bad!
Dean stared at the phone, quiet as he internalized just what Monroe had actually said. He’d been right about why Monroe was pissed, but hearing the battle hardened man admit it was another thing entirely. Before he could respond, another text came through.
Monroe: I’m drunk. Talk later. Monroe wanted to break that damn thing now. He’d sent the message before he’d even had the good sense to delete and now he was even more pissed at himself.
Deciding not to make a big deal out of it, Dean replied. Dean: Be careful. I’ll be around.
Monroe: Yeah.
Dean: Yep.
This was more awkward than two high schoolers and puppy love and Monroe dropped the phone on the table and stood, moving to get another beer. Getting drunk sounded like a good idea but it probably wasn’t. So he’d settle for another expensive craft beer, the only kind he bought, and pretend tonight never happened.
Dean wasn’t so willing to let it go, however, and after about an hour he was picking up his phone on the way out to his car. Dean: You going to pretend with me all night?
The last sound Monroe wanted to hear was his phone buzzing but he picked it up anyway. Could be Ryker, or work, or his CO. But no. It hd to be the one person he didn’t want to hear from. Monroe: Please shut up.
Dean: I’m just saying. Dean set the phone next to him as he started the car and headed toward town and for the one place he knew he shouldn’t go.
Monroe: Fine. So I’m not drunk.
Dean had never been more thankful for Siri and talk to text than he was now. Dean: I figured as much.
Monroe: Well on my way. Not really, but a guy could hope.
Dean: Whatever gets you through it. Dean couldn’t say anything. He drank way too damn much and always had. Alcohol was a constant companion in pain, sorrow, guilt, grief. Monroe was probably much the same.
Monroe: You talk now.
Dean: What do you want me to say? There’s a lot.
Monroe groaned quietly at this. Of course there was a lot to say. Monroe: Like that I’m a complete fucking moron? I know.
Dean wanted to punch him and kiss him all at the same time. Dean: You’re not a moron. Pain in the ass, yes.
Monroe: Definitely a moron.
Dean: Why do you say that? The closer he got to his destination the more he wondered if this was even a smart idea. Probably not but he’d never been a smart guy.
Many, many reasons, but his latest fuck up was even picking his phone up tonight. Monroe: Because it’s the truth.
Dean: Too hard on yourself.
Monroe: Keeps me alive. The truth. His life had never been easy and he had to be regimented in many aspects to stay alive. Always had.
Dean knew what that was like. He too had lived a certain way to keep himself alive. Maybe they were more alike than they knew. Dean: You don’t have to worry about that with me.
Monroe: Like I said earlier. Forget I said anything. I’ll see you at training.
It was almost too late to back out and Dean soldiered forward, not stopping until he outside the door of the penthouse apartment. He’d been let into the building thanks to his new Ryker ID card, security assuming he was a friend.
Monroe heard the knock and furrowed his brow, setting the phone aside and heading for the door. He still had his sidearm on from work and fingers wrapped around it as he tapped the keypad next to the door, Dean’s face popping up on the small screen. Fuck. He swung the door open and glared.
“Quit being a hardass.” Were the first words out of Dean’s mouth.
Monroe sighed and walked back toward his beer, leaving the door open. It was as much of an invitation as Dean was going to get. “And do what exactly?”
Dean shrugged and stepped in, closing the door before following Monroe deeper into the place, barely sparing it a glance. He had more important things on his mind than the décor at the moment. “I don’t know. Maybe be real with me for once instead of telling me what you think I should hear.”
Monroe picked up his beer again, draining it and wishing he was drunk for the millionth time tonight. Moving to the kitchen, he grabbed Dean one and popped it open, sliding it across the counter. “There’s no point.”
Dean caught the bottle. Expensive. Craft brew. Nice. “Why do you say that?”
“Because I know what I am, Dean. I can’t change that, probably wouldn’t even if I could. I don’t expect anything because I’d be shit at trying to give anything back.” Monroe had been diagnosed a long time ago with suspected Anti-Social Personality Disorder. The nice way of calling him a sociopath. Whether he’d been born that way or shaped into it by trauma he didn’t know.
He was known to be volatile, manipulative when he needed to be, and ruthless. Monroe never felt regret, didn’t give a shit about most people, and had definitely never loved anyone. Lucian Ryker was his best friend and the only person he’d ever cared about. When on missions he cared about doing the job and getting his guys home alive, but when he didn’t it bothered him more that he’d failed a mission than that someone had died.
Losing Ryker would destroy him though, that much he was certain of. But outside him, he’d never really cared about another person. Until now. Dean was under his skin already and he didn’t like it. Hated it. It was a weakness. It was new. And for a man who had lost the ability to feel fear when he was young, it was terrifying.
Dean sipped the beer and set it aside, crossing his arms over his thick chest and across the room at Monroe. “And what the hell are you, Monroe? And don’t give me some sob story about being damaged. Hell, we’re all damaged in some sorta way. Besides, how can you know you’re not good at something if you never even try?”
Monroe was probably more annoyed now that Dean was actually standing here in his house. Couldn’t exactly ignore him now. “I just know!” He said, louder than was necessary. “There is no fucking point in having feelings for people! I don’t know how to fucking do it!”
“And you think I’d be any better at it?!” Dean said, his voice lifting to match Monroe’s. “Look, I understand what you’re feeling, okay? And frankly it scares the hell out of me too!”
Monroe stood there for a moment as the words registered. “You..you’re feeling it too?” That was as surprising as Monroe himself having feelings. People didn’t get feelings for Monroe. He wasn’t the type of guy people even liked, and for damn good reason.
Dean tugged at his earlobe like he did when he was nervous, shifting on his feet. “Yeah..”
“…well shit.” Monroe muttered, pacing closer and rubbing the back of his neck. This was even more unexpected than the sex in Dean’s kitchen.
“Yeah..shit.”
Monroe’s fingers twitched, wanting to touch the man taking up space in his house and he licked his lips, finally closing the distance between them and tugging Dean close with fingers wrapped in his shirt. Dean went stiff at being grabbed without warning but then their mouths met and their bodies relaxed into each other.
Tongues tangled in a slow, quiet dance and they stood for a long moment lost in sensation until Monroe was pulling away, pressing their foreheads together. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.” He whispered.
“Me either. Understatement of the fucking century.”
“Still blaming you.” Monroe muttered, fingers still curled in the fabric of one of Dean’s seemingly endless plaid shirts.
“Still don’t understand why, but I’ll take the blame.” His own hands has slid down to grip Monroe’s hips, holding the man close.
“Look in a damn mirror.” It was no secret Dean Winchester was fucking pretty. Forty years had done nothing but make him sexy as hell. Dark hair, gorgeous green eyes, scruff on a jaw carved from marble. Freckles that Monroe wanted to connect with his tongue. An ass that was perfect no matter what pair of jeans he was wearing. Broad shoulders and thick chest and bowed legs.
Dean snorted quietly. “Could say the same to you.” Monroe was a couple inches shorter, hair blonder and curlier. Blue eyes shone bright though they usually looked pissed about something and serious. He was all lean muscle and abs from working out to stay fit for his job as Special Forces. The smirk that usually tilted his lips made Dean a little weak in the knees and there it was now.
“Too fucking old to feel this way.”
“You and me both.”
Monroe swallowed and pulled back farther, a question falling from his lips that he’d never asked before. “Stay?”
“Only if you want me too.”
It was late and he was exhausted and Monroe couldn’t help but want the other man in his bed. He nodded and slid an arm around the man, squeezing his ass and he pulled him close and into another kiss.
Dean couldn’t stop the grin against the soldier’s lips and he stepped close, hands moving to the man’s chest.
“You’re smiling.” Came muttered words against his mouth before gentle teeth were sinking into his lower lip.
A noise slipped from Dean’s lips at the bite and his smirk widened. “Maybe. Calling me out?”
“Oh definitely.” He smacked Dean’s ass and laughed quietly, pulling away to head for his bedroom.
“Well, that’s rude, sir.” Dean drawled, emphasizing the sir for dramatic effect.
“Sir, huh?” Monroe asked, tossing a glance over his shoulder.
“Don’t get used to it.”
“Well, I am your boss now.”
“Good thing I’m off the clock.” Dean sniped back at him as they stepped into the bedroom.
“Mhm. Good thing. Because I’m tired and you’re coming to bed with me.”
The bedroom wasn’t quite what Dean expected. It was dark colors, but tasteful and he looked around. Fairly fancy, but simple, and modern, much like the rest of the place. “Fine by me.” He motioned around them to the room. “This place is fancier than I expected.”
“I hired someone to decorate and furnish when I bought it. Had it been up to me it wouldn’t have been much more than a bed and dresser.”
Being an owner of Ryker Regent had been good to him. It was a highly recognized private security company at an international level, and once it had gotten off the ground, it had proven to be damn profitable. Most of the employees were former or active military or law enforcement, and the company had a great reputation. They had their own security systems and did everything from installing them, to private security for celebrities and politicians, to helping local law enforcement and even military with overseas contracts. Anytime the company made money, so did he and Ryker.
Another thing Dean liked about Monroe was that he was humble about what he had. You would never know he had money by looking at him. He didn’t wear expensive clothes or drive Lamborghinis, though he could have. He never flaunted it. Hell, seemed like he rarely even spent it.
It was easy to see what side of the bed Monroe frequented due to the nightstand so Dean moved around to the other side. He stripped off his jeans and pulled the shirt over his head before sitting down on the edge, socks following. He hated sleeping in socks. Monroe had also stripped down to his underwear and both men crawled under the blankets and into the softest sheets Dean had probably ever felt.
Monroe watched the other man for a moment, never one to have been a cuddler. Hell, he’d never even been in a bed with someone he wasn’t about to fuck and then send on their way either but..this felt different. It was the first time he’d brought anyone other than the guys from work to his place and the first time anyone other than him had ever been in his bed. But despite that he found himself reaching out for Dean’s larger body and pulling him closer.
Dean didn’t resist even a little. He too hadn’t been one to cuddle up with someone but Monroe was warm and smelled good and he rested his head on the man’s chest, body pressed up against him, and for the first time in a long while he felt fully relaxed. He had nothing to worry about, no monsters to hunt, and he was..strangely okay with being in this man’s bed. Monroe’s face pressed into his hair, arms around him, and they both fell asleep that way.