Closed RP: Dean and Bomba and... knife lessons. Yeah.

[redballerina.livejournal.com]

((Can't... resist... bad... joke... WARNING: Horny demon hunters and former cats on the premises. Proceeed with caution. Officially rated R for smut.))


Say what you want about House-elves, but they sure can be damn useful. Bombalurina had not only managed to get one of them to write her reply notes to Dean (she was well aware her handwriting probably wasn’t the most attractive, and she so wished for every aspect of her to be attractive), but also to find her an outfit, fix her hair, and apply a decent amount of red lipstick. The result? One fine-looking lady in a revealing dress.

She had received close instructions about how the RoR worked. Walking back and forth? Bombalurina could do that. In this dress, she was grateful for any reason to saunter. She smiled to herself, like a contented cat, and crossed her long legs in front of her. Dean would soon be here. Mm-hm. Dean. Yummy.

Comments

[redballerina.livejournal.com]

Sultry, sexy, whatever. His grin pleased Bombalurina anyway, and she returned it, lips curving into a soft, contented smile. She felt so much better now. She made a solemn promise to herself to never be without sex for that long again... It had made her irritated and edgy, but all of that melted away now and made her feel utterly pleased with everything. I LOVE being human...

"Appreciate it, hon," she said, a little amused as she knew full well Dean would find time for her even if he'd really had a busy schedule. She was just that memorable. Besides, she could tell he was still enjoying her touch.

Still not entirely willing to let go of him, but feeling a strong desire to stretch out, she untangled herself from him just enough to lie down on the cushions and yes, stretch her muscles with a cat-like grin. She was pleasantly tired and unwilling to get up just yet. "Oh, that was exactly what I needed..." she murmured and gave his chest a gentle caress, as a silent thank-you.

[wayward-son124.livejournal.com]

Dean's own chest arched slightly, cricking his back as she climbed off with a - surprisingly contented - sigh. "Oh, same here," he admitted, eyebrows raising. "It's..." He trailed off. No, best not go into why it had been a while. That could get awkward. "Been stressed lately," he said instead, scratching the back of his head and turning his head to her to smile, coyly. "I think that cured it." He paused, shrugged. "At least a little."

Mmm, that felt nice, her hands roaming all over him like that. It was sending ripples of pure happy right to his groin. He folded his hands beind his head, content, as his eyes raked her body, almost curiously. He glanced from her muscled thighs to her curvy hips to... God, please let those tits be real. They looked real. He bet they were.

"But yeah," he added a few seconds later, as if it was an afterthought. "We could totally do this again. I'm not complaining."