Suga le gana

“Yeah.” He shrugs. “Like, botanically. Because of the seeds.”

You stare at him. Then the zucchini. “I’m having an existential crisis over dinner now.”

Dean laughs, the sound warm and dorky in the quiet of the produce aisle. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to start a vegetable identity debate.”

You smirk, despite yourself. “So, what—you’re the zucchini police?”

He puts both hands up in mock surrender. “Just a cashier-slash-stocker-slash-unpaid produce philosopher.”

You shake your head, trying not to grin too wide. He steps closer, gaze flicking to your basket.

“Pasta night?”

You nod. “Allegedly.”

He reaches out and picks up a zucchini, inspecting it like it’s made of gold. “This one,” he says, handing it to you, “is definitely not harboring an identity crisis.”

You take it, fingers brushing his. Warm. A little rough. He watches your reaction a little too closely for it to be casual, then glances away, rubbing the back of his neck.

You pretend your heart isn’t doing weird cartwheels.

“Thanks,” you murmur. “For the therapy session.”

He smiles again, smaller this time. “Anytime.”

And just like that, he starts walking back toward the registers—gangly and too tall for this tiny town, still somehow graceful in a teenage boy kind of way. You watch him go, zucchini in hand, heart a little lighter than it was ten minutes ago.

You’re halfway down the next aisle when you hear it.

“Oh—and tomatoes are technically fruit, too!”

You don’t look back. You just shout, “Okay, nerd!”

But you’re smiling.

God, you’re really smiling.

Leaves were falling from the trees, green turning into orange and red as autumn rolled into Stars Hollow. But for some reason, Dean's weird obsession—the one that had built up over the summer—still hasn't wavered. It felt like this "summer crush", as Dean liked to call it, was just getting stronger with every passing day.

He should be ashamed. He should only have eyes for Rory. Her sweet smile, those big eyes, and her soft hair were enchanting. But for some reason, the same features looked even better on you. It was weird. How could the same nose, same lips, and eyes just look so much more attractive on you, a guy? Despite being siblings, Rory and you were very different from one another.

Of course, Dean was aware that siblings were usually different. He himself had a little sister, and he loved her a lot, but they still had very different interests. However, you and Rory had a very small age gap, maybe a year or so. Dean had always guessed that you two would be very similar, but the more time he spent with Rory's little brother, the more he realized just how much of a different person you were.

While Rory could be complicated, like most girls were during that age—in Dean's opinion—you were much easier to be around. Dean liked spending time with his girlfriend, but whenever he was over, he mostly sat in your room, watching you do your homework.

More time passed, and Dean became a steady presence in your life. He always lingered around, not in a pushy way. The boy was just there, something you would expect from your sister's boyfriend.

Behind your and Rory's back, Dean started sneaking around, walking into your room when you weren't around to steal your clothes. It didn't matter to Dean if they were washed or not; preferably he even took the unwashed clothes. He just really liked the smell of sweat and musk after a long day. Your sweaty clothes after PE smelled the best, in Dean's opinion. Obviously.

Sometimes the brunette would sneak into your room at night, tiptoeing around just to watch you sleep. It was weird, even creepy. Hot shame pooled in the pit of Dean's stomach for every little thing he would do, but the shame would just develop into some deep-rooted lust.

Maybe he should've just ignored that weird infatuation and instead concentrated on school, hockey, and Rory. But that crush just turned into a weird obsession, and by now it was too hard for Dean to compose himself around you. Just a small look, a brush of hands, was making the brunette's jeans feel tighter. He couldn't even count how many times he had jerked off with some piece of clothing in his face, almost choking himself with the fabric.

Sweaty shirts weren't enough anymore. By now he snatched the underwear from your dirty laundry to the point where Dean overheard a conversation between you and Rory, mentioning that you couldn't find your underwear anymore. Dean's body felt hot, and his face flushed before he excused himself to the bathroom, trying to ignore the weird looks he got from the sibling pair.

The wind outside was cold, and Dean already had you wrapped up in his coat. He was a horrible boyfriend, taking his girlfriend's brother out to see a movie instead of just taking Rory. Sometimes Dean wondered if you knew about his obsession, if you were aware and wanted him as much as he wanted you.

Gently, he ushered you into his car, giggling as he crawled into the backseat with you. This wasn't the first time he had done this with you. Doing any activities with you didn't matter if it was just hanging around at your place or going out to do something else. He loved going to the library with Rory before; now it felt boring to go without you. For some reason, you're the most important person in Dean's life.

"That was fun," Dean chuckled, smiling at the way the cold made your cheeks flush. The boy reached out to wrap the coat even tighter around you. Maybe just a cheap excuse to have his hands on your body or the body hidden underneath the layers of clothes. To Dean, you looked adorable, all wrapped up and soft.

His hands lingered on your shoulders, staring at you for a few seconds too long. God, he should be ashamed of himself. But the soft grin on your face made him want to melt away. Before Dean knew it, he leaned in. The last thing the brunette saw was your wide eyes staring before his lips landed on yours, a little too determined and pushy considering that he was kissing his girlfriend's brother.

Immediately, as you started pushing and pulling away, Dean realized what he had done. Everything spiraled into a mess, and he couldn't let you go now. Before you could even reach for the door, Dean had his arms wrapped around you, panicking just as much as you did.

"No! Wait... please— let me explain!" Dean huffed, keeping his arms wrapped tightly around you, even as you started flailing and fighting in the older boy's hold. "I care for Rory! A lot, even!" he exclaimed, hoping to calm you down in the small space of the backseat. "But I— I... just like you more." The tall brunette huffed in frustration, not understanding why you couldn't get it. All these signs. And you had been so blind about it.

"One chance! Just one... please..." Dean almost whimpered as he let you go, big puppy dog eyes and a cute pout on his pink lips. "Rory doesn't have to know..." he whispered, one hand taking yours, softer this time.

"Dean, this isn't— I mean that's wrong," you retorted, even as your heartbeat skipped a beat. Dean was a handsome boy, and despite the fact that he's dating your sister, you couldn't deny the small crush you had always had on him. The brunette had always been charming in a way. And sometimes even you liked to fantasize about what it would be like to be with him.

"Let's just try. Nothing serious. One kiss. And if you don't like it, we never have to do it again." By God, Dean hoped you would like it. The excitement heightened as he saw your expression waver. He knew he had wrapped you around his finger. "Please?" he cooed, saying your name like a prayer, something sweet that was just melting on his tongue.

Without waiting for an answer, he leaned in again, gently pressing his lips against yours once more. This time you didn't fight, didn't push or pull away. Dean's heart skipped a beat as he felt the way you were melting into the kiss, hearing the soft sigh that came from you. The kiss wasn't rushed, just a small experiment. Carefully, the brunette's lips moved against your own, one hand cupping the side of your face.

It was wrong and fucked in many ways. But once in a while, it felt like you should do something for yourself as well. You thought about the many times Rory had complained about Dean, the times they fought and argued, simply to excuse what was happening right now.

The kiss escalated at some point, Dean's tongue pushing into your mouth, swallowing each noise down. He was being greedy, trying to taste everything you've got. His hands moved from your face to roam over your body, trying to feel as much as possible underneath the many layers of fabric.

"Dean—" you gasped, pulling away from the kiss as you realized where this might go. This wasn't just a simple kiss. Not just to 'try it.' Dean knew that just as much as you did.

"Please... I've wanted this for so long," the brunette pleaded, long lashes fluttering as those big dark eyes looked at you. "I would never hurt you. I— I've loved you for so long." The words stumbled from his lips without even thinking, his head still dizzy from the feel and taste of your lips. But Dean realized what he said as soon as he saw how your face changed again.

"Loved me?" I breathed out, staring back at Dean with confusion and shock. Those were bold words coming from the boy who was supposed to love your sister.

For a moment, it was just quiet in the car, the atmosphere tense. Dean wasn't sure what to say because he knew how weird this was, on many levels even. Frustration bubbled up in his chest. After all this time, he finally got you, and suddenly you were questioning him.

"I know it's a lot. But I also know you feel the same," Dean murmured, trying to turn this all around on you. His hands slid down to your pants, quickly squeezing your crotch before you had any time to react. He took the gasp that he got from you as an invitation again, quickly smashing his lips against yours once more. Dean held you close, waiting until you gave up your squirming and melted back into the kiss.

During the kiss, Dean carefully laid you back onto the seat, already removing his coat from your shoulders. The brunette hummed against your lips, happy about the success. You felt good underneath him, soft and pliant. His lips moved from yours to your cheek before kissing his way down to your throat, gently suckling and biting there.

"No— what if she sees?" you protested weakly, your hands fisting into the fabric of his hoodie.

"She won't," Dean huffed back, pulling back to watch the small red mark bloom on the column of your throat, a small statement that said 'mine'.

While one large hand slipped underneath the layers of your clothes, his other one quickly and swiftly undid your pants, grinning at the way your hips immediately lifted so he could pull down your jeans. Dean pressed another quick kiss to your lips, a silent praise, before fishing out your already half-hard cock from your underwear. With another kiss, he silenced your whine while wrapping his hand around the base of your length.

"So pretty," the brunette cooed before letting his hand move over your growing erection. Dean's eyes were already accustomed to the darkness in the car, able to see every little reaction and twitch on your beautiful face.

This almost felt like a dream to Dean, the way you were just laying there, pants pushed around your thighs. He had imagined this so many times, to see the blush on your face and to feel your skin against his. His own cock was already swelling in his jeans. But that would have to wait. It was a surprise he'd gotten that far, to have you underneath him, willing and wanting.

The noises spilling from your lips were music to Dean's ears, just making him pick up the pace of his hand, his thumb gathering the pearl of pre-cum from the slit. Dean's free hand gripped your hip, holding you still whenever you started thrusting and squirming. He wanted to take his time, at least enough to still his own hunger.

"Dean, please..." you breathed out, beautiful and needy. It was almost embarrassing how hard you were right now.

"Please, what?" Dean hummed, his hand slightly squeezing the base of your cock, twisting his wrist with the upstroke.

"More—" you pleaded, looking up at the brunette with wide eyes, giving him the same puppy look he had given you not even ten minutes ago. And, God, did Dean start folding.

His hand started picking up the pace, using your pre-cum to slick up your cock. Dean kept a steady rhythm, watching in awe at the way your back arched slightly. You moaned and groaned, your hips moving on their own to fuck up into the other boy's fist. If you weren't so aroused, you probably would have been ashamed of how quickly your orgasm was building.

Dean couldn't help but reach down to palm himself through his jeans, licking his lips at how responsive you were. The brunette wouldn't even dare to blink, his lips slightly agape as he panted in sync with you. With wide eyes, Dean watched as you came all over his fist, slowing his motion down not to overstimulate you.

It was beautiful the way your eyes were closed, your face a gorgeous shade of pink, and your chest still heaving as you came down from your high. Never in a million years would Rory be able to compete with this, at least in Dean's opinion. He would never escape this obsession.

“please,” you breathe out against his lips. his thigh is placed perfectly between yours, and you rock your hips subconsciously, enjoying the sweet warmth settled low in your abdomen.

“i got you, just- give me a second.”

the kiss breaks only long enough for dean to speak, but his hands find your hips in a disappointing motion to halt your movements. his voice is unusually strained.

“you okay?” you hum, a few fingers reaching up in an attempt to brush his hair from his face. dean’s nod in response is less than reassuring, and you cock an eyebrow in confusion until your gaze falls and lands on the print straining almost painfully underneath the fabric of his pants.

a small sigh leaves you at the sight, a flutter between your tensed thighs reminding you of the situation you’re in.

“do you want to stop?”

the question hangs between the two of you, originating from your lips, but it’s clear he wants nothing to do with even the thought of stopping.

so, as an answer, his hands find the bottom hem of your shirt, easing it up and over your head as you so gladly let him.

he sits up to strip himself of his own, tossing it onto the floor next to your bed. your jeans soon follow, and then his, until you’re both left in just your underwear. the only time your lips part from his is to either catch your breath or to steal glances at the pieces of him so beautifully on display.

dean doesn’t steal glances as much as he studies your body with his hands. his palms run along every accessible part of you, drawing moans from your mouth and sending shivers up your spine.

your legs wrap around his waist, allowing him to slot himself between your thighs as your lips move to suck and nip at his neck.

his small grunts and hitched breaths eventually become more frequent and obvious when your fingertips graze the skin of his back, and you feel his hips buck forward, accompanied by a strained groan. he tenses, his hands gripping at you before his whole body seems to relax.

you wonder about the elevated reaction until you look down once again, pausing when a wet spot darkening the gray of his boxers catches your eye.

the sight alone sends a wave of pleasure through you, but you still, as does he.

“did you…?” you leave the question unsaid, but based off of the blush tinging his cheeks, you can assume the answer along with his understanding of what you meant.

“i’m- i’m sorry, i’ve never…” he trails off. neither of you have ever gotten so close to the real thing, so it only makes sense for him to have such a reaction to this somewhat tame situation.

“it’s okay. i don’t care.” you shake your head, attempting to shut down his nervousness. you try to ignore the persistent ache in your core as well, not wanting too high of expectations seeing as he’s already finished.

“i’ll still take care of you. don’t worry.”

and with the way his lips continue to work against your sensitive skin, it’s impossible to not believe him.