Work Text
“Hey, Y/N. There’s someone asking for you,” Jo announces.
Her co-worker has just finished her routine and walks into the dressing room in nothing but a thong and her high heels.
Y/N freshens up her makeup after her set and is about to get ready to face the people and make her rounds. She finishes applying her lipstick, presses her lips together before she asks, “Who’s asking for me?”
She kind of hopes that it would be one of her regulars. Maybe Jack, because that dude pays extra all the time and he pays for access to the champagne room on a regular basis. She sure could use the money because her rent was due two days ago and she couldn’t make the deadline. Thankfully she could convince her landlord to wait with the collection until after the weekend. She hopes that she can make enough to at least have some extra cash for other necessities, too.
Jo’s clasping her bikini top back around her body, “He’s...uh… a priest? Do you know a priest? Will he show you the light?”
Y/N can’t help but notice the mocking tone in Jo’s voice, but she ignores it. Instead, she rolls her eyes and sighs.
Fuck.
Jo smiles and steps up next to her to look at her own reflection in the mirror, “He looks delicious, Y/N. Is he a real father or does he just like to role play one?” There’s a playful glint in her co-worker’s eyes.
Now her eye rolling is directed at Jo, and her co-worker chuckles.
There’s only one priest she knows and yes, he does look delicious, can’t lie about that.
But
. Because there’s a
but
. There’s always a
but
! He’s her priest for god’s sake! Or rather was. He was her priest until she decided to run away from home.
That was what? Two years ago? She just couldn’t take living under the same roof with her overbearing, over-religious parents anymore. The last straw was that they forbade her from going to college. That was when she knew that she had to leave.
Sure, it was maybe not her best decision to work as a stripper, but at least she could attend community college by day and earn her money to get by on weekends, and every other week nights.
So, Father Winchester is here and she bets that it’s all her parents fault. They probably went to him everyday until that poor priest had had enough of their whining and decided to come get her and bring her back.
Joke’s on him because she won’t be going back. Not if she has a say in this. She’s come so far without her parents. She’s the best in her class, majoring in law and maybe, just maybe, she’ll even get the chance of an internship during summer break. Perhaps she can even extend the internship, working and studying at the same time, she could then abandon stripping.
Y/N walks out of the dressing room and sashays towards the little reception desk of the strip club she’s working in. There’s a little desk where customers could book their girls and different rooms.
She makes eye contact with the people sitting around, flirts with some, winks on her way over, because she never knows who’s going to be the next big spender.
When her eyes trail to the desk, she can already spot him.
Father Dean Winchester.
He looks somewhat uncomfortable being here, she can see by his posture, the tense in his body. He also shifts around nervously on his bowlegs and if she didn’t know any better, she’d think that him acting all insecure was kind of cute.
But he’s also wearing the perfect suit with the white collar. Of course he wouldn’t drop that thing, not even here in this shady establishment where people like him probably never set foot in.
Y/N grins, wondering if there’s a joke that starts with
A priest walks into a strip club
. She shakes her head, laughing, thinks that there’s probably none.
She comes to stand next to him and gives him a courtesy nod, “Father,” She says in greeting and looks up into his eyes. They’re still as green as ever, even in this lighting. They don’t look like they always do, though, somehow, they look weary and tired.
“Y/N,” Father Winchester nods at her and pauses as he eyes her up and down, probably taking in the sight of her skimpy outfit that really might as well not be there.
“What are you doing here, Father? You want a dance?” She tries to be smug, grins cockily but she knows exactly why he’s here.
Father Winchester clears his throat, “Don’t act like you don’t know,” His voice is deep, “I’m here to bring you home. Your parents are worried,” She can hear out of his voice that he’s slowly but surely running out of patience. Maybe with her, maybe with her parents, who knows. His forehead is damp, probably sweating. She can also tell that he wants to be anywhere but here.
She bites back, “I’m sorry, but you came here unannounced, and frankly, I have to work,” She turns to the lady at the desk, “Ellen, any bookings for me?”
Ellen chuckles because she’s been watching the conversation, “Sorry hun, but nothing yet.”
“Oh, okay,” Y/N says, pouts a little. She needs at least two bookings this weekend if she wants to pay her damn rent.
She bites on her bottom lip and looks back to Father Winchester, “So, Father, if you’d excuse me, I need to work, the rent won’t pay itself.”
Turning around, she starts to walk away but Father Winchester’s hand reaches out, holding her back by her upper arm, “How much for a booking? I need to talk to you,” His gaze flickers from her to Ellen, “In private.”
Ellen smirks, “It’s $250 for thirty minutes, Father. Think you can afford that?”
Father Winchester looks back at Y/N, cocks an eyebrow, “How many bookings do you need to be able to pay your rent?”
“T-two,” Y/N answers, stutters a little because the grip on her arm hurts.
He notices that he might be hurting her, his hand letting her go, “I’ll take an hour then,” Father Winchester tells Ellen as he pulls out a bundle of cash from his pant pocket.
Ellen snorts out a laugh, “You have in cash?”
It doesn’t happen a lot that people pay in cash nowadays.
“I’m always prepared,” Father Winchester says impatiently, counts the money and slams in on the reception desk, “Are we good to go?”
“Hun, Room #3 is available,” Ellen turns to Y/N with a smile and she nods at the woman.
“Lead the way,” Father Winchester points his chin towards the rooms in the back, his hand is back on her shoulder, fingers digging hard, as if he’s afraid that she’ll go fucking Houdini on him.
*
The light is dim in the room, the music is playing softly through the speaker. It’s a nice change from the stage room. It’s less noisy, she likes to be here, enjoys the quiet it brings.
“Sit down,” Y/N instructs Father Winchester, lifts her chin towards the only chair in the room.
Father Winchester walks slowly over, but not without taking a look around first. He probably regrets booking it for a full hour now.
He sits down and clears his throat. She has the feeling that he’s nervous and it’s really cute. Unbuttoning his dress jacket, he makes himself as comfortable as he can, “We need to talk,” He says.
“I’m sorry, Father,
you
are here to talk, I am here to work.” She smirks, walks around to his back, her fingers trailing along his broad shoulders and he swallows hard.
“Listen, Y/N, your parents are really worried. They regre–”
She straddles his lap, her legs on either side of his and she grins as she watches Father Winchester choking on his own words.
Leaning forward, she presses her chest flush to his, and she trails her nose along his scruff, whispers into his ear, “Go on, Father,”
She leans back again, a smirk on her face. She can see that Father Winchester grips the armrest tight, his knuckles turning white as he tries to pull himself together.
“Your parents,” He says, and pauses, as if he needs time to compose himself, to remember picking right where he left off, “They regret not letting you you what yo–” Father Winchester lets out a whimper, his teeth gnawing at his bottom lip when she begins to move her hips and grind down on him.
“Y/N, what are you doing?” Father Winchester hisses, and his hands fly to her hips, fingers digging into her flesh.
“Ah-ah,” She chuckles, “No further touching, Father. You can leave them on my hips, but that’s as far as you’re allowed to go,” She looks at him with amusement in her voice. The eyes that meet her are less amused. He frowns, tongue coming out to wet his lips.
He sighs after a while and pulls his hands away, placing them back on the arm rest. He’s trying his best not to give in, she can see that.
“So,” She whispers seductively, her hands around his neck, as she grinds on him harder, her fingers trailing down his body. Father Winchester is soft and muscular. She bites down on her bottom lip, “What are you saying, Father?”
Her hands leave his neck and she reaches back, unclasping her bra before she takes it off. His eyes are on her tits and he swallows hard. She can hear a weird noise that comes out of his throat.
“Y-you,” He says, closes his eyes for a brief moment before he opens them up again to look at her, “You can, uh, call me, Dean.”
The eyes that look at her while he says it are intense and maybe it’s the lightning but she thinks that they have gotten a shade darker.
“I prefer young people not addressing me as Father.”
Yeah sure
, she thinks and grins.
She hooks her hands back behind his neck and starts to grind to the music.
After a while she leans down, her nose brushing at the shell of his ear as she whispers, “Forgive me Father, for I have sinned,” She sits back up, winks at him and then she starts to feel herself up, cups her breasts, fingers twirling at her nipples, rolling them between her fingers and this time, she definitely hears a choked moan out of Dean’s throat.
“So, Y/N,” Dean starts to say again, “Your parents are really, ah..”
She feels his bulge growing bigger, and it’s definitely the right angle because it feels fucking good for her either. She grinds down harder, searches for friction.
“You were saying?” She’s breathing hard now, grinds some more, there’s something twitching underneath her.
“You’ve got to stop this,” Dean growls, his hands are back on her hips, nails digging into her skin, leaving shapes of crescent moons.
“I’m working, Dean. That’s what I do,” She has to moan out herself, it feels too good.
Y/N’s usually not the one who can let herself go when she dances for a client but this is something completely different. She’s never felt this good before.
Dean’s fingers are bruising her hips, she’s sure that he’ll leave a mark.
“So good, isn’t it, Father?”
She feels bold, her fingers reach his hand, takes them both and places them on her tits. He lets out another groan and his hips buckles.
“I thought there’s no touching,” He whispers, low and dark, as if it really matters.
“I’ll make an exception for you, Dean,” She winks and rolls her hips.
She’s awfully wet, is sure that she soils his pants.
“You… you should, ah… c-come home, please,” Dean tries to get the words past his lips, has to pause and moan in between and then he closes his eyes and he’s trying to breathe evenly.
“Oh,” She chuckles, “You said please.” She leans in then, her chest flush against his and buries her face into the crook of his neck. She takes in the scent of his cologne. Mixed with his musk it’s a deadly combination. It makes her light headed.
Dean’s arm is around her, his big palms splayed on her back, kneading and stroking her flesh. He breathes into the back of her neck, his lips on her shoulder. Not kissing, only resting. She can feel his scruff on her skin.
“Ah...” Dean squeezes his eyes shut while he pulls her closer.
She’s still moving, her breathing gets heavier, her toes start to curl. She’s so fucking close.
“So good, Father, isn’t it?” She moans into his neck. She can feel his heart beating out of his chest, his grip on her rough as he pulls her even closer.
“You’re so close, Father, I can feel it. Come on, come for me,” Y/N grinds faster and harder, coaxing moans out of her own mouth.
“Fu–, Y/N!” Dean growls before he seals his lips around her shoulder and sinks his teeth into her flesh as he creams his pants.
She’s so close either but she composes herself, stops grinding completely. She got what she wanted and it was time to stop.
Moving lazily on top of him, she waits for him to come down from his high. Dean’s lips are still on her shoulder and then he starts to suck at the patch of skin that bears his teeth mark.
“I’m sorry,” He pants, and pecks her shoulder, “I think this will leave a mark,”
Y/N laughs and gets up from his lap. Dean looks up at her, his cheeks are flushed.
“It’s okay, Father. Now please go.”
“Will you come back with me?” Dean asks and stands up either. He has to adjust his pants and now cling to him like second skin. She can imagine that he’s glad that they are black.
“No,” She says with a smirk, “I like my life, Father Winchester. I’m going to college. I have a bright future.”
“I’m afraid I can’t leave you here,” His hand threads through his hair and then he pinches at his nose.
“Why?”
“I promised your parents that I’ll come back with you. And I always keep my promises, Y/N.” He walks closer, is now standing inches from her. He looks a little intimidating, he’s broad and big but she isn’t one who’s scared easily.
“What does that mean,” She asks, a glint of playfulness in her eyes.
He puts his hands in his pant pockets and sighs, “I’ll do anything to get you back.”
“Anything?” She frowns and lifts her eyebrows.
“Anything,” Dean smirks a little now, too, and then his hands come up and he takes off the white collar before he proceeds to shrug himself off his jacket, “We still have more than half the time left for the room and I’ve come this far already – in more ways than other,”
She laughs and he has to chuckle himself.
“Just tell me how I can get you to come back with me and I’ll do it.”
“Oh, Father,” She smiles cockily, “The way to get me back is perilous and it leads to things you don’t really want to do. It goes against everything you stand for.”
Dean reaches out his hand, his smile wide and bright, “Then lead me.”