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The campus bar that afternoon was wrapped in an unusual quiet, perhaps because the day outside was decidedly gloomy. A thin mist blurred the large windows, erasing the outlines of the bare trees in the courtyard and the various statues that adorned the university. Looking outside, you couldn't help but think how lucky you were to be working inside, warm and surrounded by the sweet scent of freshly baked cinnamon muffins and the comforting, pungent aroma of forest fruit tea bags left to steep.

As a student job, you really enjoyed working at the bar. It had also made you less shy, and many of your shifts were with Allie, which always turned into chaotic sessions filled with her dramas involving her boyfriend or ex-boyfriend—however many times they had broken up.

There was no one in line at the register, and most of the students present were scattered on the sofas or at the tables, lazily tapping on their laptop keys or underlining notes with their heads bent over notebooks, accompanied by hot chocolates. Taking advantage of this moment of pause without the usual crowd of people ordering, you turned toward the drink machine, wanting something sweet. By now, you didn’t even need to look at the controls—your hands moved on their own, activating the hot chocolate dispenser. The thick, dark liquid filled the ceramic cup. You stretched your arm to grab the glass jar full of mini marshmallows and let a generous handful fall onto the whipped cream, creating your perfect reward drink to defeat the gloom of the day. At the sight of a bit of cinnamon, you sprinkled a small dose on top of the cream, and you smiled at your creation. Just as you were arranging the last marshmallow, a rough and unmistakable voice broke the silence behind you—one you would have recognized even with your eyes closed: “Hey, sweetheart.”

At that sound, your cheeks instantly flushed a deep red, even though you were still half-bent over the hot chocolate. When you turned abruptly, clutching the slightly scalding cup in your hands, if you hadn’t had the wooden counter just a few centimeters away where you placed the mug with a reflex movement, you probably would have dropped everything—or worse, on your clothes and the counter.

Jake was there, standing in front of you, separated only by the surface of the counter where there was an area where you placed all the ready drinks. But there was something radically different about him compared to the last time you’d seen him—his hair. It had always been raven black, but now it had a new feature that left you speechless: along the sides, the strands faded into warm tones that tended toward a creamy blonde, giving his figure an even more marked and wild hybrid aura.

When he took off his usual baseball cap with a fluid gesture, it fully revealed the new cut, which took your breath away. The side strands were completely white and perfectly bleached, falling slightly messy on either side of his face, framing his sharp features and making his profile even more pronounced, especially his nose. You thought those light shades blended spectacularly with the soft fur of his wolf ears that peeked through the dark hair, moving slightly.

Jake immediately noticed the way you were staring at him, and the fact that his change in appearance had struck you so much made his inner wolf take a small leap of pride.

“Oh... your hair... it's... you look so good with this slightly fluffy cut, but with these mullet-like features,” you stammered, completely losing the thread of your thoughts, unable to take your eyes off those blonde and white strands that gave him such a disheveled yet irresistible look. You were super curious if those tufts were as soft as they had always been or if they felt different after being bleached.

Jake smiled with a crooked, pleased expression that lit up his eyes. He brought a large hand to his head, running his fingers through the light strands to mess them up even more with a deliberately cheeky gesture just for you, one of his usual attitudes to make you blush even more or to tease you. At the same time, he gave you a slight wink, lowering his voice so the other students couldn’t hear: “Thanks, sweetheart. I felt like changing things up a bit, especially now that the most important matches of the season and the Christmas parties are coming up. Let’s just say I wanted a fresh look that not everyone has. Anyway... thanks for the drink, it’s really delicious. I would have never thought that cinnamon powder would go so well with whipped cream and chocolate.”

You blinked, confused. “What drink...?” you asked, since you hadn’t prepared anything for him. But when you lowered your eyes to the counter, your cup was already in his hands, and Jake had already made his way through half of it: a generous spoonful of whipped cream and almost all the marshmallows were gone, leaving only a white trail at the corner of his lips. In the cup, you could already see the dark liquid. You raised your gaze, crossing your arms over your chest and putting on a small, annoyed pout.

“Hey! That was my reward drink for today’s stressful day, between classes and my work shift!”

Jake chuckled, seeing you slightly sulky, and took another sip, looking at you over the rim of the cup. “Well, I’d say I deserved it too, sweetheart. I was on the outdoor field until five minutes ago, with almost zero degrees and fog, running and training for the team.”

You rolled your eyes, hugging yourself tighter, and replied: “I don’t recall the doctor prescribing you to play soccer in these polar circle temperatures, Sim.”

At that tone of fake scolding, the atmosphere between you changed. Jake slowly lowered his eyes from your face, letting his gaze slide down the bar uniform you were wearing. The tight apron around your waist perfectly hugged the curve of your breasts and highlighted your stomach, making your figure incredibly familiar to his sight. Jake moistened his lips with a slow movement of his tongue, then lightly bit his lower lip, which was a bit chapped from the icy wind of the field.

At that moment, his hybrid instincts were screaming that he wanted to simply vault over the counter in one leap, grab you by the waist, and press you against his massive chest to feel your warmth and your scent again, which calmed him and satisfied his hybrid nature. But as if you had read his mind and wanted to ease that growing tension, you reached a hand over the wooden counter, and with the tips of your fingers, you gently caressed the base of his soft, fluffy ear, then delicately moved up to ruffle those newly bleached strands at the nape of his neck. To your surprise, even the bleached tufts were as soft as all his hair, and you absolutely wanted to know his secret to making his hair so fluffy.

At the sudden sensation of your warm touch, Jake shivered from head to toe. His wolf ears twitched pleasantly under your fingers, lowering almost backward in pure relaxation, while his tail, hidden behind his team’s sweatpants, gave a sharp thump against the bar stool and began to sway. His eyes half-closed with the immediate pleasure that your close contact was causing, and he remained still, almost hypnotized by the now-familiar sensation of your hands touching him.

“Stop looking at me like that, Jake… there are people in here,” you whispered, your cheeks red as you slowly pulled your hand back to avoid drawing attention. He raised an eyebrow, placing the now half-empty cup on the counter and leaning forward, reducing the distance between your faces to just a few centimeters. With a rough, provocative tone, he said: “Like what, sweetheart? Let’s hear it.”

You rolled your eyes, barely suppressing a smile at his audacity, and said in a low voice: “Like you’re about to pounce on me at any moment, that’s how.” You were half-embarrassed by your own words, and Jake chuckled, leaning even further over the counter. “Forgive me, sweetheart… but I have to remind you, I’m a wolf hybrid. And the way you said that… it sounds either terribly bad or terribly good to my ears, depending on the perspective,” he said, biting his lower lip. His cheeks tinged with a soft blush, betraying that the thought was genuinely teasing him.

You gave him a playful little slap on his muscular arm and said: “Be serious, Sim.”

But he didn’t stop looking at you for even a second. It was then that you noticed a small residue of chocolate and whipped cream stuck to the sides of his lips. Without thinking twice, guided by the intimate naturalness that now belonged to you both, you reached out and gently passed your thumb over the curve of his mouth to clean it.

Jake froze instantly, watching your face just millimeters from his. His wolf ears relaxed again at the sensation of you touching him of your own accord. At that close distance, his predator senses immediately picked up on a subtle change in the air: your usual sweet strawberry scent was taking on warm, intense notes of cotton candy, which meant that this closeness and hint of intimacy were pleasing you to no end. His wolf rejoiced with pleasure because just a few weeks ago, you had been truly reluctant to touch him or want his touch.

When your thumb removed the dark drop, instead of pulling your hand back, you decided to leave it there, lazily brushing the corner of his mouth and pressing lightly against the outline of his lips. You looked him straight in the eyes in a challenging way to tease him. With extreme slowness, you slid the tip of your thumb toward the center of his lower lip, pressing slightly to force him to part his lips, as if to remind him of the power you had over him. He immediately understood the game you were playing, but Jake had infinite patience when it came to you, so he held your gaze, limiting himself to raising an eyebrow with a hint of pure feline challenge, while his lips curled against your finger.

A theatrical little cough and a soft whistle abruptly burst the magnetic bubble that had formed around you both. You pulled your hand back suddenly, feeling the blood pump even harder into your cheeks, just as Jay and Sunghoon appeared behind Jake, giving him two complicitous shoves on either side of his arms.

“Are we interrupting something private, lovebirds?” Jay asked with an incredibly cheeky tone and a sly grin on his face at the sight of you two so close, something that was no longer much of a novelty for their pack.

Jake rolled his eyes, visibly annoyed at being interrupted at the best moment, and let out a low, warning growl—but one that Jay and Sunghoon knew all too well. It was one of those playful growls. “Jay… Sunghoon… you’d better disappear,”he said.

The two guys burst out laughing, not at all intimidated by the pack’s wolf. You, trying to regain a professional demeanor behind the counter, greeted them with a still slightly embarrassed smile and asked what you could prepare for them.

Jay, leaning on the counter with his elegant black cat hybrid demeanor, ordered a hot chocolate with orange flavor, while Sunghoon, adjusting his heavy scarf, opted for a classic black tea accompanied by a butter cookie, which he shared with Jay.

As you prepared their orders, the two guys didn’t stop teasing Jake about his new fluffy look with the mullet and the cream-colored streaks. Finally, they took their cups and, grabbing him by the shoulders, dragged him away toward the tables at the back of the bar. But before being pulled away by the pack, Jake suddenly turned and fixed you with a direct gaze across the counter. With a crooked smile that promised everything but good behavior, he said in a low voice: “See you later, sweetheart!”

At 6:30 PM, you turned everything off, slipped on your heavy jacket, and wrapped your scarf around your neck. Outside, the fog had thickened even more, reducing visibility to just a few meters. You shivered slightly as you stepped over the threshold of the café, the biting cold hitting your face. You couldn’t wait to snuggle under the blankets in your apartment, but to get there, you had at least a ten-minute walk ahead through the muffled murmurs of students returning to their dorms after their last classes or various sports practices. You were convinced that Jake had left long ago with Jay and Sunghoon, but instead, just a little further ahead, you spotted his figure at the corner of the sidewalk. He had his soccer bag, with his initials printed in white, slung over one shoulder, and he was looking right at the entrance of the bar. You approached him, pulling your coat tighter around you.

“Why are you still here in the cold? Didn’t you say you’d already spent way too long training in freezing temperatures and just wanted to stay warm?” you asked, observing him with a hint of curiosity.

Jake slowly slipped a hand into the pocket of his hoodie, and you heard a clear metallic jingle. When he pulled his hand out, he showed you the keys to his gray Range Rover, parked just a few meters away.

“I waited for you because I wanted to take you home,” he explained, looking you up and down, all bundled up against the cold, and still finding you cute. “But, well… if you really want to walk the whole way in this bone-chilling dampness and cold, I won’t stop you, of course!” he added with an ironic tone, turning on his heel to head toward the car. You rolled your eyes with a small smile tugging at your lips.

Jake turned just once to check with the corner of his eye that you were following him. Seeing you behind him, he chuckled to himself while his wolf tail, hidden under his jacket, kept swaying from side to side with excitement at having you close to him again.

When you got into the car, Jake started the engine, but the car had been sitting in the frozen parking lot for hours. “Sorry, it’ll take a few minutes before the heater starts blowing decent warm air,” he said with a small, annoyed pout as he set the controls to the maximum to warm you up as quickly as possible. He didn’t have this problem—being a hybrid, his skin temperature was always higher than any human’s.

“It’s no problem, really,” you replied, settling into the leather seat. Your gaze fell on his right hand, resting naturally on the gear shift. Without thinking too much, you stretched out your slightly cold-stiffened hand and placed it on top of his. The contrast was immediate—his palm already radiated a warmth that instantly warmed at least your hand.

“It’s not fair at all,” you grumbled, looking into his eyes. “You hybrids don’t suffer from the winter cold at all thanks to your metabolism, and it’s the same in the summer with the heat… you’re practically immune to both cold and heat.”

But Jake didn’t care much for your biology lesson on hybrids. As soon as your skin touched his, his thumb began to stroke the back of your hand with a slow, almost hypnotic rhythm. You both stared at each other in silence for endless minutes while your breaths began to slightly fog up the inside of the windshield.

Suddenly, Jake leaned slightly toward you, bending over to your side of the seat, and pressed his warm lips against yours in a simple, sweet peck.

That unexpected gesture caught you completely off guard, sending a shiver down your spine. You knew a lot about Jake, and you’d never have thought that the guy from a couple of months ago would kiss you like that, out of nowhere, with such a tender peck. When he started to pull away, his cheeks slightly flushed, you didn’t give him time to distance himself. You reached out and grabbed the collar of his training jacket, pulling him back to you. This time, it was you who deepened the kiss with a boldness that even surprised yourself.

That second kiss was wetter, almost desperate, and perfect for making up for all the lost time and the tension that had built up earlier behind the bar counter.

His warm lips sought yours with a hunger and a need barely contained, as Jake had become almost obsessed with your lips, still savoring that light, sweet aftertaste of strawberry and chocolate that characterized you—a lethal contrast with his spiced flavor of cream, cinnamon, and milk chocolate.

His tongue didn’t waste any time: it slipped decisively between your slightly parted lips, intertwining with yours in fluid, warm strokes that made you completely lose your breath. A small moan escaped you as his large hands found the perfect position—one cupped your cheek, his fingers tangling in your hair to hold you still, while the other pressed firmly against the back of your seat to support the weight of his body leaning over you.

You smiled against his mouth, feeling the warmth radiating from his chest, and to tease him even more, you used your teeth to gently tug at his lower lip, giving it a playful little bite before sucking it softly. As you’d come to understand from being around Jake, he let out a low, rumbling sound—a mix of a grunt and a moan. Jake was always noisy, thanks to both his sunny personality and the fact that he always let out little moans or sighs when you touched or kissed him.

The urge to have you even closer, to feel your weight, and to inhale your strawberry scent—tonight smelling incredibly like cotton candy—became completely uncontrollable for his hybrid nature. Pulling back just a millimeter from your lips, his breath short and his ears bending backward with excitement, he locked eyes with you. With a rough voice, he ordered: “Swing your legs over… and sit on my lap, now, Y/n.”

You shifted slightly on the seat, trying to regain some composure as his command sent butterflies to your stomach. “What if someone sees us? It’s not exactly wise to risk breaking some absurd law or campus rule just for a few kisses…” you said.

But Jake didn’t care at all about what people might think. With a quick movement, he slid both of his large, warm hands to your hips, gripping you with a firm but gentle hold. “Stop always acting like such a good girl, sweetheart,” he murmured in a low voice against your earlobe. “Who’s going to notice us? Look outside… the fog is so thick you can’t see a hand in front of your face, and the windows are already fogging up from the heat. And even if someone did pass by, do you really think anyone here would care about two people kissing in a car after a long day of classes? It’s just you and me, Y/n. Let go.”

You let out a long, resigned sigh, knowing full well that when he used that voice and that smile, you were utterly incapable of saying no. Realizing that with the bulky puffer jacket, you’d never manage to move in that small space, you slipped it off and tossed it onto the backseat.

Jake grinned, visibly satisfied with his small victory as he watched you take off your jacket. With his free hand, he pulled a lever on the side of the seat, sliding the backrest slightly backward to create more space. He spread his muscular thighs to show you where to sit, and seeing you still a little uncertain and hesitant in the car, he nodded toward himself with his head. You rolled your eyes and offered him your hand.

Jake took it, intertwining his fingers with yours to give you stability, and so you swung your leg over the center console. With a slightly awkward movement due to the limited space, you settled onto his strong thighs, instinctively wrapping your arms around his neck and inhaling his scent.

Jake leaned toward you, and whispering against your lips, he said: “Hello again, sweetheart…”

You giggled and greeted him again, your cheeks slightly flushed from the situation you’d gotten yourself into.

“Did you think I’d forgotten, sweetheart?” he whispered against your throat as his warm nose buried into the hollow of your neck. With a slow, delicate gesture, he removed your scarf, freeing your scented skin so he could better inhale that strawberry aroma, which at that moment smelled like pure cotton candy.

You gently caressed his face, brushing the corner of his eye and the top of his cheekbone with your fingertips. “Forgotten what, Sim?”

Jake smiled against your skin, releasing a warm breath that sent shivers down your spine. “You’re really in the mood to tease me today, huh? You provoked me in front of everyone at the bar earlier, especially when Jay and Sunghoon showed up, leaving me there looking like a fool with them… And let me tell you, my wolf has very little patience when you start acting all bold.”

As he spoke, his hand slid under the hem of your sweater, caressing the bare skin of your back and waist with warm palms that almost seemed to burn against your still slightly cold skin. At that contact, you stammered, losing your train of thought: “J-Jake…”

Hearing his name, he smirked as usual, and with a slow movement, he began to play with your lower lip with his teeth, just as you had done earlier, hooking it gently to pull you toward him before sucking it with a small, possessive tug.

You moaned softly, overwhelmed by his warm body, his scent, and his pheromones that were calming you.

Your fingers found his soft, fluffy ears, tugging and gently caressing them at the base. That gesture made him moan lazily because he loved being touched by you. Without realizing how time was slowly turning darker, you began a sequence of overwhelming kisses, where sweetness inevitably merged with a deep, unstoppable passion.

At first, the kiss was slow, with his soft lips seeking yours in a wet, rhythmic caress, savoring the delicacy of your mouth and moving in sync with both of your breaths. But it only took a few seconds for Jake’s wild nature and the heat of the fogged-up car to transform that contact into something infinitely more intense and sensual.

His tongue slipped decisively between your parted lips, claiming space with deep, warm, fluid strokes that wrung small sighs directly into his mouth. You felt his fingers on your bare back grip you more fiercely, pulling you even closer against his hips, while you ruffled his new cream and black streaks at the nape of his neck, letting yourself be lulled by the constant rhythm of his kisses that tasted of cinnamon, cream, and the desire that had built up earlier during your work shift.

As you continued kissing with that barely contained fervor, the car’s cabin finally warmed up completely, wrapping you both in a scorching cocoon. It wasn’t just thanks to the hot air blowing from the vents, but mostly due to the heat of your intertwined bodies and your ragged breaths, which turned the Range Rover’s windows into a completely opaque, fogged-up surface, isolating you from the cold mist outside.

As the minutes passed, in an attempt to find a more comfortable position in the cramped seat, you shifted slightly closer to him. But that small movement caused your intimacy to press directly against his shaft, which, under the soft fabric of his sweatpants, was inevitably hardening more and more.

At that direct contact, you clearly felt how big, hard, and burning hot it was. The memory of when you had seen him completely naked in front of you, pleasing himself and giving you perfect instructions on how to make yourself come, suddenly flashed through your mind. You remembered how imposing, thick, and veiny his hybrid member was, and you thought about how much you wanted to touch it or feel it against your lips. A wave of pure heat shot through your stomach, and you let out a small, muffled moan against his lips: “Mmm… J-Jake…”

Jake immediately tightened his grip on your hips, and his hands lifted you just a millimeter before slowly rocking you against his erection, making you feel all of its firmness against your pants. You felt his mouth move down along your jawline, leaving a trail of hot, wet kisses along the sensitive curve of your neck, while a long, rough sigh trembled in his chest as he felt your sweet scent driving him wild.

“Damn, little one… you have no idea what you do to me…” he murmured in a rough voice, while his hybrid, wild nature tried with all its might to overpower his human, rational side.

At that moment, the beast inside him would have wanted nothing more than to give in to instinct: to slide his fingers under the lace of your panties, penetrate your warm center with his long digits, and watch you ride his hand until you came on his palm. He would have wanted to feel you touch his erect member or, even more, to see you undress and ride his shaft until he marked and knotted you to him. However, his human side knew the weight of your insecurities, perfectly understanding that you deserved respect, gentleness, and that he shouldn’t risk making a wrong move after all the progress you had made in these situations. Thank God Jake was the perfect balance of 50% hybrid and 50% human, because otherwise, he didn’t know how he would have managed to hold back.

So, with a small, frustrated pout and his wolf ears flattening slightly from physical frustration, Jake slowly pulled away from your neck and took a deep breath, swallowing to dispel the fog of desire. He looked into your eyes with incredible sweetness.

“You… you make me feel things that are completely strange and out of control, Y/n,” he said, trying to regulate his accelerated heartbeat. “And that’s exactly why I don’t want to rush into things we should do later, with much more calm.”

You immediately tried to protest, shaking your head and clinging to his neck: “But Jake… I’m fine now, really! You don’t have to stop just because you’re afraid of—”

Before you could finish the sentence, however, Jake gently placed his index finger on your lips, silencing you with a soft gesture.

“You think you’re ready now just because you’re carried away by the moment, sweetheart… but you’re not quite there yet,” he explained with a calm voice, defying the longing of his own body. “You saw how much your body struggled the other night, and we were in a controlled setting where I wasn’t even close to you. I don’t want to rush anything… I want that when it happens, you feel one hundred percent safe.”

With his thumb, he began to gently caress your swollen, reddened lips from the intense kisses you had shared. At that mature tenderness, you felt your heart melt at how Jake had been treating you—perhaps since the very first day you had met. Slowly, you were discovering the real Jake. You nodded slowly, resting your forehead against his shoulder, and thanked him, murmuring against his hoodie: “Thank you, Sim… you have no idea how protected this makes me feel.”

Jake smiled against your hair, caressing your back over your shirt, and regained his usual playful tone: “Well, I’d better take you home now… otherwise Allie will start filing a missing person’s report for you, and Jay will have to come drag me away!”

You let out a soft laugh, still comfortably nestled against his scorching chest, savoring the last moments of that warmth before moving back to the passenger seat.

In recent weeks, the sessions of physical contact and especially kissing between you and Jake had increased immeasurably. You knew well that he was someone who loved physical contact; you’d realized it from your very first meeting, along with his body heat but in your presence, he had revealed himself to be a perfect clingy boy: any excuse was good for wrapping his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder, or intertwining his fingers with yours under the table. And this drove you crazy—in a good way—because you had always been someone slightly cold to physical contact but thanks to him, you were beginning to open up, and deep down, you sought his presence too, even if you weren’t ready to fully admit it yet.

That late afternoon in early December, the weather had turned completely gray in just a few hours. Outside, a fierce wind lashed the trees on campus, and the weather forecast had announced dense snowfall overnight, putting the entire campus on alert to stock up on supplies in case it was as heavy as predicted.

That morning, you had texted Jake that once his training was over, you’d bring him his dry hoodie and the history folder he had carelessly left on your desk two nights ago. He had replied to wait for him at the sports field or in the atrium of the soccer facility. So you checked the time and were convinced that at that hour only he would be doing extra training. As team captain, he had this privilege: if he wanted, he could stay a little longer in the sports center.

When you were near the sports field, you noticed that indeed, there wasn’t a soul outside—just the whistle of the icy wind clearly telling you to go inside the sports center. So you decided to take shelter inside the building where the gym, medical facilities, and team locker rooms were located. Curious, you walked slowly, looking around. Along the main corridor, there was a long display case full of trophies, pennants, and official photos from past seasons as well as the current one. You stopped to observe one photo in particular and almost laughed at the sight of Jake in his game uniform. In that photo, he had an incredibly serious and concentrated expression while having his recognition photo taken, not very different from the Jake Sim you had come to know in your presence.

Meanwhile, inside the empty locker room, Jake sensed your arrival even before seeing you. His wolf ears picked up your light footsteps on the polished floor, and his sense of smell immediately recognized those familiar sweet notes of strawberry that had been driving him crazy day after day.

As soon as you crossed the threshold of the empty locker room, you were completely taken by surprise. A figure moved in the shadows with feline speed. Jake grabbed you firmly by the hips and pulled you into the last stall, closing the metal door with a sharp click. The thermal contrast was immediate and overwhelming, the warm steam still dissolving in the locker room enveloped you, and Jake’s scent completely invaded your senses. You saw that his black hair with the iconic white streaks was still wet from the shower, a gray towel was wrapped around his neck, and the skin of his back and arms was literally scorching from the post-shower heat. You started, bringing a hand to your chest.

"Oh! I finally found you... You weren’t outside, so I took a little tour around the facility, and I have to say, you look really cute in the team photos, even if you’re making that tough-guy face..."

You tried to speak, but you couldn’t even finish your sentence because Jake pressed his index finger directly against your lips to silence you. With his breath short and his tail swaying at your presence, he pressed his forehead against yours, his large, warm hands tightening around your waist.

"I told you to wait for me in the atrium, not to sneak all the way in here, Y/n," he murmured in a low voice. "Do you realize that if the coach, someone from the team, or any staff member had seen me dragging you in here, I’d be in serious trouble by now? They’d make me run twenty laps around the field in this freezing wind!"

Your cheeks warmed instantly at the closeness, and you reached out, gently wiping a droplet of water sliding down his cheekbone from one of his white streaks with your fingertips.

"I could have just stayed outside in the hallway, Sim," you retorted in a low voice. "I only came to bring you your dry hoodie and the history folder you forgot..." You let out a light chuckle. "You’re the one who pulled me in here like a caveman."

Jake, feeling the light touch of your fingers on his post-shower warm skin, closed his eyes for a moment and stared at your swollen lips. He murmured, "Damn, you’re really a threat to my sanity, sweetheart... Who would have ever thought, a couple of months ago, that you’d come to visit me in my domain of your own accord? But if someone saw us like this, they’d get the wrong idea, sweetheart. No one would ever believe you just came to bring me some things."

He leaned slightly, burying his face in the hollow between your shoulder and neck. With the tip of his warm nose, he began to tease your bare skin, inhaling deeply your scent. You felt his body tense and press even closer to yours. Through the fabric of your pants, you clearly felt the solid pressure of his hard shaft pushing decisively against you. At that intimate and direct sensation, a small moan escaped your throat. Trying to remain the 'sane' and rational person in the situation, you murmured, "Jake... please... someone could come in at any moment..."

But his lips had already begun to trace a wet, warm trail along your jawline, slowly descending toward the curve of your neck.

You, unable to put up real resistance, immediately clung to him, sliding your fingers through his damp black hair to caress the nape of his neck and the base of his wolf ears. As he kissed your skin with light bites and gentle sucks that made your legs tremble, Jake continued to rub slowly against you, making you feel just how much he desired you.

"Let them come in," he muttered against your skin, releasing a warm breath that sent shivers down your spine. "At least they’ll understand right away who you are and won’t get any strange ideas. Do you know how many of my teammates have asked about you these past weeks? Too many for my liking," he teased.

"And what do you tell them?" you whispered, arching your back to better accommodate the weight of his body against the locker room wall.

"Better you don’t find out, sweetheart," he replied with a cheeky grin before capturing your mouth again in a deep kiss.

And so, you spent more than ten minutes locked in that metal stall, completely isolated from the rest of the world, kissing alternately with sweet kisses that quickly turned into something more passionate. Jake lifted you slightly by the hips, pressing you against the edge of the locker to have better access to your mouth. His tongue slipped between your lips while his large hands slid under the hem of your sweater to feel the warmth of your bare back.

You deliberately teased him, sliding your hands down his muscular shoulders and arms, squeezing his still-contracted biceps from the workout effort. With your thumb, you caressed his sculpted abdomen, making him shudder and growl softly against your lips.

"You’re making things really difficult for me, little one," Jake panted, pulling back a few millimeters to look into your eyes, his pupils fully dilated. His wolf ears were bent backward with excitement, and his tail moved frantically behind him.

"You’re the one who locked me in here, Sim," you laughed breathlessly, grazing his lower lip with your teeth to give it a playful little bite. "Now you have to take responsibility."

Jake held you with an almost desperate strength, pressing his rigid shaft against your intimacy once again, making you both sway in a slow rhythm that made you lose all sense of time. He filled your throat and face with small, pressed kisses, praising how good you smelled, how soft you were, and how perfectly your body fit against his.

Only when the sound of a door slamming at the end of the main corridor brought you both back to reality did Jake freeze instantly, hiding his flushed face in your neck to regulate his ragged, happy breathing at your presence in his life.

Over the past few weeks, you and Jake had found yourselves in countless situations where you completely lost track of time, kissing and touching—always within limits—until it had become a beautiful, sweet, and frustrating routine that accompanied you almost every free day.

A few days after the fiery kissing session in the locker room stall at the sports center, you found yourself at the pack’s house, directly in Jake’s bedroom. He had to prepare for a particularly tough exam for his engineering degree, while you were buried in books for your Music Marketing Strategies module.

Although the temptation to get distracted was huge with him constantly by your side, Jake had—with great maturity—suggested spending an afternoon of pure study. Against all expectations, for over three hours, you both had been extremely focused, sitting close at his large desk, with the only sounds in the room being the ticking of the computer and the rustling of papers as Jake traced complex formulas.

At that moment, Sunoo, the snow fox hybrid, walked by along the hallway. Noticing that Jake’s bedroom door was half-open, he instinctively brought a hand to his eyes, slightly bending his elegant golden ears, convinced he would catch you kissing or doing who-knows-what scandalous things—as everyone in the house had come to expect by now. But when he peeked through his fingers and saw you both bent over your respective books with a serious expression, his jaw dropped in surprise.

You turned at the sound of his slippers and noticed him in the doorway. You greeted him with a small wave and a warm smile. Sunoo immediately returned it with a sweet, almost affectionate smile, confirming how you had by now grown accustomed to the daily, reassuring presence of all the other hybrids in the house.

However, after more than three straight hours of concentration, Jake’s ability to focus reached its limit. With a loud sigh, the wolf hybrid stretched backward, cracking his shoulders, and grumbled that he really couldn’t take it anymore and absolutely needed to lie down for a bit to avoid going crazy. Within a minute, you found yourself half-reclined on his large king-size bed.

Jake positioned himself lying down, comfortably resting his head on your soft stomach. With a lazy voice, he asked: “Sweetheart… can you touch my ears and hair?”

At that direct yet trusting request—proof that Jake now trusted you 100%—you smiled and began to caress his dark hair with the wild white streaks. With extreme delicacy, you started massaging the base of his soft ears. Jake released a deep sigh, letting out a sound, a sort of low, relaxed hybrid purr/growl and closed his eyes, completely surrendering to your touch.

But the quiet with a hybrid like Jake never lasted long. After a while, his natural hyperactivity suddenly woke up.

With an agile move, Jake turned on his torso and positioned himself above you, trapping you between his arms. You saw his eyes shine with a playful and hungry light as he leaned in to kiss you, and you offered no resistance. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to deepen the contact. Between one deep kiss and another, his large hand slowly slid from your side upward, coming to rest on the fabric of your light sweater, directly over your breast. An involuntary moan escaped your throat: “Mmmh… J-Jake…”

Then, remembering the situation you were in, you stammered with sudden anxiety as you realized the door was half-open: “T-the door… the door is half-open! Someone could see or hear us from downstairs…”

At those words, Jake’s hybrid nature split exactly in two. On one hand, his possessive and territorial side wanted to get up, lock the door, and hide you from the rest of the world, preventing anyone from laying eyes on you in such an intimate moment. On the other hand… his alpha wolf ego would have loved if someone from his pack passed by and saw exactly how he could reduce you to—a pile of moans and ragged breaths just with his touch.

In particular, his instinct suggested he would have loved it if the ones to see this scene were Jay or Sunghoon (the two who teased him the most about becoming a "tamed wolf," as they put it). He wanted them to see with their own eyes that you were completely his, utterly overwhelmed by his warmth and presence. Yes, in hybrid psychology, showing one’s mate as submissive and satisfied by one’s touch was a form of asserting dominance over the males in one’s pack.

Jake leaned over your ear, and with a deep, cheeky voice, he whispered: “Let them see or hear us, sweetheart… They’re my pack. None of them would ever dream of touching you with even a finger in my presence… and not even if I weren’t here, because they’d know full well I’d recognize the scent of anyone who tried.”

But you were still too shy, modest, and awkward to accept such logic. Deep down, you didn’t understand why, but Jake didn’t give you time to protest. With a quick and expert move, he slid his hands under your sweater, lifting the fabric to uncover the cup of your bra and find your bare skin. Without warning, he leaned down and gently nibbled on your already hard nipple, then sucked it with manic pressure to make you moan and writhe beneath him.

“JAKE!” you shouted his name, caught by a sudden and violent wave of pleasure from his bite. Trying to maintain some composure, you scolded him by weakly hitting his shoulder with a playful punch: “Sim! Stop it, there are people downstairs, you’re a pervert!”

But Jake didn’t care at all about your fake innocence, because he knew full well that deep down, you weren’t so chaste at all: your strawberry scent had instantly transformed into that sweet, intense fragrance that indicated just how much your body was enjoying his provocation.

“Yeah, yeah… keep playing the innocent girl, sweetheart,” he teased with a cheeky grin, giving you one last peck on the lips. “I know exactly how much you like being touched by me.”

However, after teasing and kissing you a little more, Jake composed himself. He fixed your bra, pulled your sweater back down, gave you a sweet kiss on the forehead, and sat back on the edge of the bed, not going any further.

At that point, something inside you snapped—a deep sense of frustration and insecurity made its way into your chest. You thought: Why does Jake never go all the way? Why does he always stop at the best part?

It had been a while since that famous night when he had made you come using only his voice and your hands guided by his commands. Since then, you had wanted with all of yourself to do it again, to touch him, and deep down, to have sex with him. But your mind began to formulate the worst thoughts and insecurities: What if he doesn’t like my body enough? What if he finds my inexperience boring? What if he’s only waiting because he feels obligated to be a gentleman, but in reality, he doesn’t have this physical desire for me?

You wanted to tell him clearly, wanted to beg him to undress and take you right there on that bed. But your shyness was an insurmountable obstacle, and you had a terrible fear of explicitly asking for something more intimate. Most of all, you were terrified of receiving his rejection or embarrassing him, so you kept all that burning desire locked inside you.

Losing was a completely normal part of life, but Jake hated losing with every fiber of his being—especially when the circumstances were ridiculous. That afternoon’s match had been a bad joke from start to finish. His coach had kept him on the bench for most of the game, claiming he had played five matches in a row as a starter and needed to "rest," preferring instead to add an extra defender for coverage. Then, with the score tied at 1-1 and only a handful of minutes left, he had thrown Jake onto the field in a desperate attempt to break the deadlock. But the Intercity players weren’t playing soccer—they were playing dirty. Between malicious trips, shoves, and elbow jabs that could have broken anyone’s ankle, the tension had skyrocketed.

Jake was a pacifist by nature. He hated fighting, hated raising his hands, and always tried to be the reasonable and calm one in the group, both on the soccer field and within his pack. But when his wolf hybrid nature was pushed beyond the limits of patience, rationality switched off completely. After yet another unpunished foul and one too many words from their central defender, Jake had completely lost his cool. Within seconds, a furious brawl had erupted in the middle of the field.

The result? A red card, a 2-1 defeat in the 90th minute, and a nightmare journey home on the team bus, where his teammates were more angry at themselves than at Jake. They had even told him he had done the right thing by giving that stupid defender a piece of his mind. Meanwhile, videos of the fight were already circulating everywhere on the university blog, filled with comments and speculation about his reaction. To top it all off, he had a split lip and a small, bleeding cut just below his left cheekbone.

Jake looked up and sighed at the thought of having to endure another hour on the bus. He just wanted to crawl under the covers and disappear from the world for a couple of days without a trace. At the same time, he was desperate to text you and find out if you were free, since you didn’t have a shift at the bar tonight. But he didn’t want to disturb you or come across as clingy after a day like this. So he decided to take a chance: he would go under your apartment on campus, and if you were there, great. If not, he would return to the pack’s villa—even though the last thing he wanted was to endure Heeseung’s lectures or the pitying looks from the others. Especially since only two others in the pack were athletes and captains of their respective basketball and hockey teams.

Getting off the bus, he said goodbye to his teammates and apologized for the tenth time to his coach. When the coach told him to go home, he set off with his head down in the biting December cold, where the icy air was merciless and made his injured lip burn like crazy, despite the team doctor having disinfected it. His wolf ears trembled from the cold under his hood.

After a ten-minute brisk walk, he arrived at the landing of your apartment and stood staring at the door for a few seconds, suddenly overwhelmed by a wave of embarrassment. He had always come here knowing you were inside, but now he thought: What if Allie opens the door? What excuse do I come up with now, looking like this?

But in the end, he found the courage and knocked twice, his tail already beginning to sway with the frenzy of seeing you. When the door opened, thankfully, Allie wasn’t there—it was you, wearing an incredibly thick, absurdly soft fleece pajama set that was ridiculously "childish," with funny patterns that would have made him chuckle under any other circumstance. It wasn’t sexy at all, but it was definitely cozy for keeping warm. For him, seeing you there was a relief.

Without saying a single word and without giving your mind time to process his presence, Jake gently but desperately pulled you to him, burying his face in the hollow of your neck and almost curling up against you to hide from the rest of the world and the awful day he’d just had.

“J-Jake…? But what… I thought you were still on your way back to campus with the team…”

He didn’t answer, just held you tightly against him, his arms wrapping around your waist. As soon as his nose inhaled your familiar, sweet strawberry and chocolate scent, he felt the tension in his shoulders clearly melt away, and a long sigh escaped his lips. For the first time all day, he felt safe.

You let out a soft laugh, feeling him hold you with such urgency, and gently patted his back as you said: “Jake… you’re squeezing me too tight… I can’t breathe… let me go for a second, I’m not going anywhere!”

At those words, Jake loosened his grip slightly, pulling back just enough. When you looked up at his face, illuminated by the hallway light, you immediately saw the signs of the fight: his lower lip was half-split, swollen, and red, and beneath his left eye, a shadow of purple and yellow was already forming. You had already heard and seen what had happened at the match, and you hadn’t expected him to come to you right away that evening. So, with gentle care, you lifted your hand and lightly traced the outline of his injured lip with your finger.

“Was it really necessary? Throwing punches over a soccer game?”

He rolled his eyes as he felt your touch. “The Intercity guys are assholes, always have been. They can’t play clean soccer—they always try to provoke you and get you carded… let’s just say that by the end of the match, one of their defenders knocked me down five times in the span of two minutes, and I just snapped.”

You nodded slowly, softening your gaze. “I don’t like this, Jake. I know you’re a pacifist like me, so I bet it really took a lot to push you over the edge… but some people aren’t worth it.”

Jake nodded dejectedly, his wolf ears drooping slightly, and asked timidly: “Can I… can I stay with you for a bit? If Allie’s here, I’ll go back home…” He looked around cautiously, sniffing the air of the apartment. He didn’t pick up Allie’s usual floral scent just your natural fragrance, mixed with a sweet, irresistible trail of chocolate. You immediately gestured for him to come in and closed the door behind him.

He took off his shoes at the entrance and followed you into your room. As he entered, he saw your bed piled with soft blankets because of the cold outside, your laptop paused on a TV show, and a small plate with half-eaten chocolate chip cookies. Only then did he realize why you had a slight smudge of chocolate near the corner of your mouth when you opened the door.

Jake sat on the edge of the bed and almost felt at home, but his eyes remained fixed on you. He watched as you bent down toward the nightstand to look for something, tilting his head slightly to try to figure out what you were searching for instead of giving him your attention. “What are you doing, sweetheart? Don’t you want to be with me?” he asked, his eyes wide with hope for your attention.

When you turned around, you saw him looking at you with those hopeful, puppy-dog eyes. You sighed, turning toward him with a tube of cream and a cotton pad in your hand. “Your lip is in bad shape. We need to clean it again and put at least some cocoa butter or healing cream on it,” you said in an authoritative voice.

Jake adjusted himself a little better on the bed, spreading his legs to make room for you as you approached. Seeing you walk toward him, his lips curled into a sly smile despite the pain. “Is this just an excuse to touch my lips, Y/N? You could’ve just said so!” he teased, and you laughed, shaking your head at his usual cheekiness.

“Oh, shut up!” you scolded him gently, giving him a light tap on the side to make him stay still. But as soon as your hand touched his side, you saw him clench his teeth instantly and let out a soft sigh. You stopped immediately, your eyes widening. “Tell me you didn’t also get kicked or something in other parts of your body?”

Jake sighed, meeting your gaze with a guilty look, and simply shrugged. “Just some shoves, Y/n… all the players get them.”

“Afterward, you can show me the bruise or the bump on your side too, okay? Just in case we need to put some trauma cream on it,” you said in a serious tone that almost made Jake chuckle. He didn’t miss the opportunity to be his usual cheeky self, and with a mischievous grin, he said:

“Well, if it’s just an excuse to see my abs or my V-line, there was no need to fake an injury, sweetheart. All you had to do was ask!”

You shot him a disapproving look, raising an eyebrow. “You’re really hopeless, Sim! I’m trying to take care of you, and all you can think about is being a pervert!”

Jake laughed and pulled you by the waist, settling you onto his lap so you were straddling him. You immediately felt his warm fingers rise to cradle your cheek, caressing your skin with his thumb.

“You don’t have to worry, sweetheart,” he murmured, looking into your eyes with incredible tenderness. “This is the first time this season something like this has happened. The Intercity team is famous throughout the league for being jerks and foul players, okay? Have you ever seen me like this before?”

You slowly shook your head, admitting it was the first time you’d seen him with a bruise on his face.

“See? There’s nothing to worry about,” he pressed, letting a sly smile light up his face. “But… if you want to play doctor and take care of this handsome patient, you absolutely can!” He gave you a playful little pinch on the side, and you laughed, giving him a light push on the shoulder: “I don’t think you’re a patient—more like a clown looking for attention!” you said, laughing.

A moment later, you asked him to open his mouth slightly so you could treat him. Jake obeyed, staying still as he watched you intently. You leaned over him, fully concentrated on cleaning the corner of his lip where small scabs of dried blood had formed. You used a cotton pad soaked in a bit of disinfectant and warm water, dabbing carefully so as not to reopen the wound. But when you felt him tighten his grip on your hips, flinching slightly, you stopped immediately: “Hey… I don’t want to hurt you, but it’s better to remove these dry scabs so I can put the healing cream on and then the cocoa butter,” you said in a low voice. Jake nodded silently, letting you take care of him.

Inside, his animalistic nature was literally reveling in pleasure. For a hybrid, having their wounds tended to by their mate was the most intimate gesture, something that didn’t happen every day. His inner wolf reminded him with pride that you weren’t just any girl who had randomly entered his life—you were his true mate. Sooner or later, he would have to tell you openly, explain to you what that bond truly meant for his kind. But he knew tonight wasn’t the right time… he just wanted to be as close to you as possible.

“Open your mouth a little more so I can finish with the cream,” you said softly, and he did it immediately. With the tip of your thumb, you gently caressed the edge of his lip to spread the layer of ointment. But when you looked up to check his reaction, you caught his gaze fixed on you in a way you’d never seen before, as if he wanted to tell you something but couldn’t express his feelings. When his eyes dropped to your mouth, you understood that all he wanted in the world was a kiss from you to make all the pain disappear.

“Could you give me a kiss too, you know?” he said in a playful, slightly dramatic tone. “I’m in so much pain… right where you’re treating me!” he teased, and you rolled your eyes: “That’s definitely another one of your excuses, Sim.”

Jake immediately put on a theatrical pout, sticking his lower lip out even more, crossing his arms over his chest, and lowering his ears completely as he looked up at you with a scolded puppy expression that would have melted anyone. You couldn’t resist that sight, so you leaned forward and gave him the gentlest kiss, barely brushing your lips against the uninjured part of his mouth so as not to hurt him. When you pulled back, Jake looked at you with fake disappointment: “That’s it? Just a tiny little kiss?”

But you had no intention of letting him win so easily. You finished spreading the cream and then picked up two tubes from the nightstand: “Strawberry cocoa butter or chocolate?”

“The one you always use,” he replied, even though he knew you used the strawberry one 90% of the time. So you carefully applied your favorite cocoa butter, and his lips were now hydrated and already looking much better thanks to your care.

Jake pulled you to him, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing you against his chest, burying his nose in your hair: “Thank you, little one… I really needed the care of my favorite doctor!”

You told him that the medical treatment wasn’t over yet and that you absolutely wanted to see the bruise on his side. So, with a wink to hide a hint of embarrassment, Jake took off his hoodie and then his T-shirt, leaving himself shirtless in front of you. At the sight of the bruise already yellowish and purplish due to the spreading hematoma on his fair skin, you gave him a disapproving look mixed with concern because you hated seeing him in pain.

“Hey… come on, it’s totally normal, you know? We’re ‘men’ running after a ball, it’s...”

Before he could finish, you cut in: “You’re not playing hockey or some extremely physical, combative sport, Jake. I don’t like seeing you hurt at all, okay?”

He nodded and said: “I’ll try to be more careful and not lose my temper next time. Besides, this was the last game of the year. The Christmas holidays are coming up, and the championship is pausing.” He stretched slightly.

“Thank goodness!” you exclaimed with a sigh of relief.

Jake raised a finger, sticking out his swollen lip with a sly smile: “Hey! I was doing really well in the scorer rankings, so don’t be so happy about it, Doctor! If I finish first, I could win MVP as the best university player of the year.”

You shook your head, smiling, and took the tube of trauma cream again, gently spreading it over his side, right above the bruise. You saw him clench his jaw slightly at the discomfort of the contact.

“Make sure you apply this cream two or three times a day,” you said seriously.

He chuckled, shaking his head, thinking about how much you sometimes reminded him of Jay. “Damn, as if Jay repeating things to me a thousand times a day and telling me to be careful wasn’t enough, now you’re doing it too!”

You rolled your eyes, but as you both stared at each other in silence for a few seconds, driven by his gaze that never stopped watching you, you leaned toward him. First, you inhaled his scent directly where his scent glands were, on his neck. Obviously, you weren’t a hybrid, but you could clearly perceive that unmistakable scent of pine and cinnamon—a fragrance you could recognize anywhere. Immediately after, you began to leave a trail of small, warm kisses along the skin under his jaw, slowly descending toward the curve of his neck and down to his collarbones.

Jake shuddered, pulling you to him and placing his large, warm hands on your back. The contrast with your cooler body made you tremble beneath your pajama. You applied slight pressure with your lips on his fair skin, and a moan escaped his throat as he felt you suck on it:

“Mmmh… Y-Y/n…”

You captured a bit of his skin between your lips and teeth, sucking gently just to drive him crazy, creating a small, delicious hickey—a pink mark that claimed Jake was already yours, even if you didn’t fully realize it yet. Then, you gently blew on it to soothe the warmth, and Jake pulled you even closer against his bare chest. With a trembling voice, he asked:

“W-what are you doing, sweetheart…?”

Without even lifting your gaze immediately, you murmured against his skin: “I can’t kiss you on the lips because of the injury… but you have many other places I could kiss and make you moan, don’t you, Jake?”

He nearly choked on his own saliva at your bold words, his eyes widening as he flushed all the way to the tips of his wolf ears. He stammered with a broken voice: “W-which… which other places would you like to kiss or… explore?” He was completely shocked by this version of you.

You lifted your gaze slightly, challenging him with your eyes, and your hands slowly descended his sculpted chest, lingering on his nipples: “Here…”

Then, your nails gently scraped his skin toward the ridges of his sculpted abs, and you licked your lips at the feast beneath you, eager to drive him wild and discover where he was most sensitive to pleasure. Finally, with just one finger, you slowly traced down the seam of his sweatpants, stopping right where his length was already beginning to harden against your pajama pants. Looking him straight in the eyes, you whispered with a fake innocent girl smile:

“…And finally, here.”

Jake was speechless, mostly because he hadn’t been prepared for this version of you. He asked, “Are… are you sure? I don’t want to push you into doing anything that might make you feel like you have to touch me or make me feel good, sweetheart.”

You looked at him, slightly intimidated by his response, and said, “I… I want to, but if you don’t like it or...”

Jake’s eyes widened, and he cut in, “No, no, damn it, sweetheart, maybe I didn’t express myself well. I want you to touch me. Hell, I’ve wanted you to touch me or kiss me for months, but I don’t want to push you into anything, okay? If you feel up to it and you’re sure, you can do whatever comes to that little mind of yours, okay?” He said this while playing with a lock of your hair, and at those words, you felt better.

Without saying anything, you leaned in and positioned yourself higher, right where his sweatpants were. You began to place small kisses that trailed from his visible collarbones down to the top of his chest until you reached his nipples. Before sucking on them, you played with them lightly with your hands. You noticed how they were darker than the rest of his chest and found them very attractive. You could feel Jake’s eyes on you, studying every move you made.

So, first, you gently blew on them, then kissed the outline of his nipples before licking them, first with a delicate flick of your tongue, then sucking and lightly biting them.

Jake moaned, feeling his body both relax and get more excited because, on top of you sitting on his length, every time you rubbed your breasts against his body, he was trying his damnest not to act like an idiot in that situation.

You played with his nipples for a couple of minutes, but you could feel his shaft growing harder beneath you. With a little smirk, you lifted yourself slightly and then traced the ridges of his abs with your nail, slowly descending toward his V-line. You pouted slightly at the sight, whispering that he was too beautiful. Jake chuckled because his favorite parts of his body were his abs and his face. Seeing you there, drawing imaginary lines on his abs and making him tremble slightly, while also looking at him as if he were the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen, made his inner wolf revel in pleasure.

Jake looked at you with a small grin as you stopped with your fingers right at the edge of his boxers. He saw you playing with the waistband and said, “Come on, sweetheart, earlier you said you wanted to touch me here too,” pointing at his boxers. “Now you don’t feel like it anymore, or maybe you lost your courage!”

You shot him a disapproving look because you hated when people doubted you. In a low voice, you said, “Pull up your sweatpants, Jake.”

He laughed openly because by now, he had figured you out—he always had to be the one to push you a little to do something you were too embarrassed to ask for. So, he slightly lifted his hips and pulled down his sweatpants, leaving him in just his Calvin Klein boxers. At the sight of his Calvin Klein boxers, you laughed, shaking your head. “Seriously? You’re that basic, Jake? Even twelve-year-olds wear Calvin Klein boxers now.”

At those words, he closed his eyes and said, “I’m pretty sure twelve-year-olds in Calvin Klein don’t look like me, and they don’t have all this to show off,” pointing at himself and giving you a little wink.

You replied, “Sometimes you’re a bit too full of yourself for my taste.”

Jake shrugged and said, “Maybe because I can afford to be, sweetheart!” He gestured as if inviting you to touch more or maybe even pull down his boxers. He saw how your hands trembled, but this time, he didn’t want to tease you or tell you to do anything. You had to be the one who wanted to touch him, to see him naked.

And so, with challenging glances, neither of you could look away from the other

You knew Jake was teasing you, maybe even giving you full freedom over what to do, and you were tired of feeling intimidated on a physical level in a relationship. So, you caressed his V-line and, at the same time, the waistband of his boxers. After a few seconds, you repeated: “Lift your hips, Jake.”

At your command, his tail swayed with contentment, and without a word, he lifted his hips again. But this time, he wanted you to take them off. So, he looked at your hands expectantly. You sighed but gave in, and with trembling hands, you slid his boxers down. His shaft sprang free, bouncing against his abs.

You nearly lost your breath at the sight. Okay, you remembered it being big and veiny, but up close, it was even larger than you expected. You instantly understood why girls said that having sex or pleasing a hybrid guy was different because of how masculine their—well, this—was. You bit your lip as you saw it right in front of you and stammered:

“Why… why does it look bigger and larger than last time?” You said it out loud, maybe a little too loudly, because Jake burst out laughing. You felt your cheeks turn bright red, and you covered your mouth with your hands. “Oh my God… I… that sounded so bad, I’m sorry.”

You didn’t know what to do or say, and Jake said: “Sweetheart, you seriously ruined the mood with that line!”

You gave him a light slap on the arm with a pout and continued: “It’s the same as last night, Y/n. It’s just that now it’s a few centimeters away from you, and it’s just a simple dick that comes back to life at your touch or sight!” he teased.

You asked, “Can I… can I touch it?”

Jake raised an eyebrow and said: “Damn, yes, please do whatever you want, little one. You’ll see it’ll never hurt you, and when you’re ready, this little friend here can make you feel so good you’ll become obsessed with it.”

You rolled your eyes. “Stop showing off, Sim!”

He chuckled and brought your hands close to his shaft, saying: “Try to touch it gently, and when you’re more comfortable, you can tease me and jerk me off like you saw me do that day, okay?”

You nodded, and when the tip slid into your hand, you thought it was really damn big, it didn’t even fit in your hand. So, you touched it slowly, alternating gentle caresses with quicker touches.

“Keep going like that, sweetheart. If you want, you can… climb on top and ride me, or… or suck me off,” he said.

At that statement, you swallowed hard, your throat instantly dry, and a shiver ran down your spine because you had never given a blowjob before.

The mere idea of having his size in your hands made your heart race wildly, but curiosity—fueled by that lethal mix of desire and tension that had been building for weeks—was infinitely stronger than fear. Having read tons of romance novels and spicy stories, you knew the basics perfectly. Every single detailed scene, every movement described on those pages was fresh in your mind, and at that moment, you desperately wanted to put them into practice on him.

So, you leaned a little lower between his spread legs and looked at the tip of his member glossy, huge, and already demanding your full attention. With slightly parted lips, you spat a little on the tip to lubricate it, and Jake let out a low moan. With his head, he gestured for you to continue, to discover how you could make him completely lose himself in you.

Your hair fell messily over your face, partially blocking your view. Sensing your embarrassment but wanting to watch every single second, Jake reached out with his large hand, buried it in your hair, and gathered it into a firm ponytail within his fist. He didn’t want to hurt you at all, but he gently pulled your head back to make the position easier for you to take him into your throat.

Without a word, you stuck out your tongue and licked the tip of his cock. Jake visibly trembled from head to toe, feeling your warm, wet tongue on his sensitive skin for the first time. He never would have thought that you, the girl who couldn’t even stand him a couple of months ago would be there, bent over him, taking him into your mouth in such an intimate, completely vulnerable gesture. This realization was overwhelming for him because you were showing him that you were starting to trust him, and he never wanted to lose that trust.

At first, you licked timidly, alternating small tastes to get used to his flavor and the imposing shape in your mouth. With ragged breath, he stammered: “I know you can do better, sweetheart… Try to let it slide a little into your mouth. Suck it like it’s a lollipop… If it becomes too much or it hurts, I’ll notice right away, okay?”

You nodded slightly against his thighs. When he saw you nod, Jake gave a slight upward thrust with his hips, and damn—seeing you there with your mouth open, his cock slowly sliding in and out between your rosy lips, made something snap inside him.

His wolf nature took over because his mind was dominated by a single feral thought: She’s mine. Look how she welcomes me, look how she submits and takes me inside her. I should mark her as my mate, fill her mouth with my scent until she only smells like me, and I should claim her with my teeth and my scent.

However, despite the wild urge of his inner animal, the human part of Jake knew how important it was to keep you calm and safe while you were doing something like this for the first time. When he saw and felt that you were managing beautifully, gaining more and more rhythm, his grip on your hair became tighter and more dominant.

You moaned against his skin, a sound halfway between a slight twinge of pain from the hair pull and an overwhelming wave of pure pleasure as you felt him slide deeper, hotter, and harder into your throat. You alternated small licks on the tip with more decisive, wet sucks, using the oral cavity of your mouth to create perfect pressure that was driving him wild at the sight of you so desperately bent over him.

Jake, completely overwhelmed by ecstasy and driven by the wolf’s instinct that demanded more, took a slight run-up with his hips and pushed himself even deeper, almost touching the base of your throat. You felt a sudden wave of nausea rise, and your eyes filled with a vale of tears from the depth of the thrust. You had never been so overwhelmed by a gesture before, but Jake didn’t leave you alone for even a second. He immediately praised you with dirty words at the sight, so obscene yet delicious at the same time.

“Damn… look how you take all of my cock, little one. You’re so beautiful with your mouth full of me, fucking art. Look how hard you’re trying to take as much as you can… such a good girl…”

Those words sent a surge of adrenaline through you. You wanted to make him happy, wanted him to be proud of you, wanted him to see that you were capable of satisfying him like no one else. So, you gathered your courage and took him even deeper into your mouth, not pulling back. A thread of saliva dripped slightly from the corner of your lips, trailing down your chin and ending up on his muscular pelvis.

At that sight, Jake completely lost touch with reality. His moans grew louder, and he couldn’t stay still at all: his legs contracted, his sculpted abs tensed with every suck, and his hips continued to give small, involuntary thrusts upward, desperately trying to sink even deeper into your mouth.

After a few moments, Jake brought his clenched fist to his mouth, biting his knuckles to stifle the moans that threatened to echo throughout the entire room. Damn, the sensation of your tight throat around his length was so intense that he didn’t know how much longer he could last before completely giving in.

“Fuck, sweetheart… I… I’m about to come!” he stammered, his voice thick with pleasure from feeling you lick and suck him. But instead of pulling back, you were hit by a wave of boldness you didn’t know you had. You parted your lips even tighter around his shaft and increased the rhythm of your sucks, making him slide in and out with fast, enveloping movements.

Lost in the idea of driving him completely wild, you reached out with your free hand toward his thighs. With your fingers, you began to play delicately with one of his testicles, rolling it gently between your thumb and index finger. Jake arched his back off the bed, lifting his hips completely off the mattress, and let out a high-pitched moan.

“Holy shit, yes…! Fuck, don’t touch me there while you do that, you’re driving me crazy…!”

At such a strong reaction, a small giggle escaped you, which almost made you choke with his tip still in your throat because you knew perfectly well how much Jake loved to moan loudly and talk dirty during any sexual act. But seeing him lose control so completely made you realize you had found his true weak spot. So, you continued to brush and massage that sensitive spot, enjoying every single one of his shudders.

Jake, with wide eyes, tried to regain a minimum of clarity and said: “Damn, little one, seriously… I… it’s too good, but I’m about to come in your mouth! It’s better if I pull out, I don’t want to bother you…”

But you had no intention of letting him go. You wanted to feel his warmth melt inside you, wanted to discover what his purest excitement tasted like. So, instead of pulling away, you looked up at him from below with glossy eyes and gave him one last deep suck on the tip while your hand gently squeezed the base of his testicles. That final touch was the coup de grace for his wolf nature.

“F-fuck, I… I’m coming! I warned you, little one!” But you didn’t care about his words.

The first hot, thick jets of cum flooded your mouth and the lower part of your face. You felt the scorching wave of his ejaculation flow against your tongue and lips, so you tasted his excitement for the first time. It had an intense, slightly salty, warm flavor that slid into your mouth and down your throat—a unique taste that sent shivers down your entire spine because you thought it would have been more bitter.

When you finally let him slip from your mouth, Jake was completely shocked, staring at you. You were damn sexy in that vision of you with your hair slightly messy, your breath ragged, your lips red and swollen, and strands of his cum wetting your chin and cheeks.

He literally didn’t know what to say. The usually self-assured captain had been completely floored by you—the girl he would have never bet could make him so desperate for your touch and attention. Suddenly hit by a veil of shyness at his silence, you wiped the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand and softly asked: “Did… did you like it?”

Jake was left speechless for a second, then burst out laughing, immediately reaching for your nightstand and grabbing a couple of tissues. He leaned toward you, gently cleaning your face.

“Did I like it?!” he exclaimed, his eyes shining with pure pride. “Oh my God… where’s the shy girl who, until recently, couldn’t even look me in the eyes without getting nervous? You took it so well, fuck… you were incredible.”

Your cheeks turned as red as fire from the compliments. To hide your embarrassment, you leaned forward and pulled up his gray boxers.

Jake chuckled again, and as he did, he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you on top of his bare chest, completely enveloping you. He gave you a long, sweet kiss on the top of your head, letting his scent wrap around you completely.

“This is my fucking girl,” he murmured against your hair, holding you tightly as his heart continued to race wildly against yours.

Jake’s car was driving back toward campus, the trunk and back seats packed with gift boxes, holiday decorations, and a massive grocery haul for the Christmas festivities. Inside the car, the atmosphere was warm and cozy as you tried to warm your fingers with the air vents, while a Christmas song played softly in the background. Your eyes kept drifting to the window, enchanted by the colorful lights twinkling on the facades of houses and buildings as they whizzed by.

You loved the days leading up to Christmas, everyone was consumed by the excitement of finding the perfect gifts, preparing decorations, or cooking, so when Jake asked if you wanted to go holiday shopping with him, you immediately agreed. You had things to buy too, and so you ended up spending over two hours together in stores, splurging on gifts.

“How many hours is it from Brisbane to here?” you asked at one point, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled after your long shopping spree. “Your parents must be exhausted after the flight.”

Jake shot you a glance with a sweet smile before focusing back on the road: “Mmmh, it’s about ten hours of flying, but both me and my family are used to all those hours on a plane. Plus, flights from Australia usually leave in the evening, so you just go to sleep and wake up right as the sun rises before landing.”

You nodded, dreaming of how many beautiful places there must be in Australia, especially the Gold Coast, and murmured: “One day, I’d really love to go there… Australia has always been at the top of my dream destinations list.”

At your little confession, Jake’s tail began to sway frantically with pure joy. The idea of you wanting to visit his home country filled him with happiness. But before he could dream of a trip to Brisbane together, there were still so many things that needed to happen: the end of the academic year, the decisive choice of the professional team that would sign him, and, most importantly, the moment when he would finally reveal to you that you were his true mate—a prospect that excited him to no end but also terrified him because of your shyness and everything you’d been through. And then, there was another pressing matter: he needed to ask you if you and Allie wanted to spend New Year’s Eve with him and the rest of the pack at the mountain villa.

Just as he was psyching himself up to ask you, Sunghoon’s name flashed brightly on the car’s digital radio screen. Jake rolled his eyes with a sigh and grumbled: “Speak of the devil, and he shall appear…”

You chuckled and pressed the green button on the steering wheel to accept the call on speakerphone. The line opened to a background of shouting, loud music, and laughter.

“What do you want, Hoon?” Jake started.

“Hey! I get that I’m younger than you by, what, not even a month?” Sunghoon replied, clearly amused. “But you could at least answer me with a little more respect, you know?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at their usual back-and-forth, and at the sound of your laughter, Jay’s unmistakable voice boomed through the speaker: “Wait a minute! That was a girl’s laugh… and it was Y/n’s!”

“Hi, Y/n!” both Jay and Sunghoon exclaimed almost in unison.

“Hi, guys!” you greeted, smiling. “How are you?”

“Everything was fine until I got roped into being moral support,” Jay complained. “I’m stuck in the ice rink because Hoon has to finish an endless session of photos, videos, and TikTok content for both the hockey team and a sponsor. I’m freezing my ass off in the stands, I swear.”

Jake grinned at the thought of Jay suffering and bored: “So why are you calling me? Don’t tell me there’s more stuff to buy, because I’m not turning the car around to go back to the mall for you. Especially not for you, Jay, who’s planning New Year’s Eve like it’s a royal gala dinner!”

A second after saying that, Jake closed his eyes for a fraction of a second, mentally kicking himself: Damn it, I shouldn’t have brought up New Year’s Eve now!

He knew full well that one of those two idiots on the phone would pounce on the chance to ask if you were coming too. And sure enough, the trap snapped in a millisecond.

“Ah! Right! New Year’s Eve!” Sunghoon immediately exclaimed with a mischievous tone you could almost see through the phone. “Y/n, please tell me Jake has already asked you to come with us to the mountain villa! Jay rented this insane chalet with a snow spa, and if you and Allie don’t come, we’ll have to put up with Jake whining the whole time because he misses you!”

“Sunghoon, shut that mouth!” Jake growled, his wolf ears flattening instantly with embarrassment as his cheeks flushed bright red.

“What do you mean, ‘shut that mouth’?!” Jay jumped in, seizing the opportunity to tease him. “You hadn’t asked her yet? Sim, you’re a disaster! Y/n, listen to me: you’re officially invited. The villa has tons of rooms, a fireplace, a view of the Alps, and it’s perfect for parties. Plus, we need some sane people there with us.”

Jake felt mortified, his romantic plans for asking you ruined by Jay and Sunghoon’s interference. “Guys, I swear, when I get my hands on you, I’m biting your ears off. I wanted to ask her myself, nicely!”

“Then do it! Stop pretending to be shy over the phone—it doesn’t suit you, Jake!” Sunghoon laughed, just as a whistle blew loudly in the background. “Ah, I’ve gotta get back on the ice. Y/n, we’ll see you at the chalet because I already know you and Allie are coming!”

And with that, the call ended, leaving the car in sudden silence, broken only by the Christmas music and the patter of wind against the windshield.

Jake stared at the road, running a hand through his hair out of nervousness and embarrassment. He let out a deep sigh, glancing at you with a small smile.

“So…” he murmured, his voice suddenly much quieter, scratching the back of his neck with one hand while his tail made a small, nervous movement on the seat. “I actually… I really did want to ask you tonight, in a way a little nicer than Jay and Sunghoon yelling from an ice rink… Would you… Would you like to spend New Year’s Eve with the pack at the mountain villa, Y/n? You and Allie could stay with us for three days… in the Alps, with good food, good company—obviously,” he said with a wink. “But if you’re already busy, I won’t force you to—”

Before he could finish, you cut in: “I’d love to, Jake. Allie and I were already thinking of going to the mountains for a couple of days, so this works out perfectly. Plus, it’ll be nice to spend some time outside the campus, just you and me.”

Jake’s face lit up with a goofy grin, and he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Well, then let Allie know you’ll be coming with us. I can’t wait to spend those days with you, sweetheart!”

The villa Jay had rented for the New Year’s Eve getaway was absolutely stunning and the bedrooms were no exception, each offering a breathtaking view of the snow-covered mountains. Under the late afternoon light, the peaks looked like a freshly painted masterpiece by nature itself.

When you and Allie stepped inside, you were immediately greeted by the sight of the grand stone fireplace in the main living room, already crackling and spreading a warm, inviting heat. It was beautifully decorated with festive garlands and sparkling ornaments, perfectly setting the mood for the upcoming New Year’s Eve celebration.

Jake had eagerly given you both a tour of the house, showing off the various rooms so you could choose where to settle in. You and Allie, out of pure convenience and roommate habit, decided to share a double room but you noticed Jake’s nose wrinkle slightly and his ears drop by a millimeter—he had been hoping to seize the opportunity to sleep with you and have you all to himself. Yet, unsure if you and Allie preferred to spend that time together as girls, he didn’t say a word. Still, a tiny, adorable pout formed on his face the moment you set your luggage down in the same room.

You almost giggled at the sight of him looking so adorably sulky, but you chose to stay quiet to avoid embarrassing him in front of Allie. Deep down, though, you loved seeing how clingy—in the best way—Jake was with you.

After taking some time upstairs to unpack and change, you both put on ridiculously thick, festive Christmas sweaters paired with comfy pants and finally headed down to the spacious living room.

The scene before you was a picture of delightful chaos: Ni-ki, Sunoo, and Sunghoon were playing pool around the green table, sneaking in little pranks with their cues. Jungwon and Heeseung were sunk into a massive couch, deeply engrossed in a video game challenge on the big screen. Meanwhile, Jake and Jay were at the large kitchen counter, busy preparing and chopping ingredients for that evening’s dinner.

Allie immediately headed toward Heeseung, leaving you and Jake at the kitchen counter. As soon as you approached, Jake with an instinctive and tender gesture, reached out and gently stroked your head, letting his fingers slide through your soft hair.

"What are you guys making?" you asked, eyeing the ingredients scattered across the marble countertop. Both Jake and Jay answered almost in unison that they were starting to prepare fresh tomato sauce for the pasta, and you immediately offered your help. Within two minutes, you found yourself standing next to Jake, chopping what felt like a mountain of vegetables for the whole group.

Working beside him, however, was a hopeless endeavor because of his constant need for contact. Jake couldn’t stop teasing you: he’d nudge you lightly with his shoulder to make you giggle, touch your waist under the pretense of reaching for a clean knife, and every time you turned toward him, he’d take the opportunity to rub the tip of his warm nose against your cheek or caress the small of your back with his palm. By now, his closeness was familiar to you, but to his friends, it was the first time they’d ever seen Jake so touchy or affectionate with someone. It was a pleasant surprise—finally, one of them had found his mate. But Jay, who was stirring the pot beside you, rolled his eyes with an exasperated grimace and huffed loudly, saying:

"Please, stop. You two are unbearable. I didn’t come to the mountains to spend three days watching you act like a sickeningly sweet couple who’ve been married for, what, 50 years?"

From across the room, Ni-ki tore his gaze away from the pool table and replied with a sly grin:

"Admit it, Jay… you’re just jealous because you thought you’d be the first in the pack to meet his mate!"

The air in the room froze instantly. In the world of hybrids, throwing around a word like "mate" so carelessly wasn’t just disrespectful—it was a huge deal, especially when the mate in question wasn’t a hybrid, but a human.

Everyone in the group was completely caught off guard by Ni-ki’s reckless remark. The youngest of the group realized only in that moment that he’d let slip a word far too significant and revealing. Ni-ki’s mouth fell open in shock, and he immediately clapped a hand over his lips in a gesture of pure panic and self-defense. His panther ears flattened completely with embarrassment, and he shot Jake an apologetic look.

You and Allie exchanged a glance, visibly confused by the sudden shift in atmosphere. Allie stepped forward, furrowing her brow, and asked:

"Wait a second… what does ‘mate’ even mean?"

Jake’s eyes widened, and he froze on the spot. This was not how he wanted to explain the deep nature of your bond—or what it entailed.

But just as the tension was reaching its peak, the villa’s front door swung open again.

Whether it was Jake’s misfortune or his luck—since the interruption put the "mate" discussion on ice, the figure of Kai walked into the chalet. And he wasn’t alone. Soobin was with him.

Jake’s wolf tail, which had been happily swaying at your side until then, suddenly went rigid and still. His eyes locked onto Soobin—the guy you’d once had a huge crush on, the same guy you and Jake had agreed to help each other "get over" at the start of the year.

What the hell was Soobin doing in their villa?!

Jake whipped his head around to glare at Heeseung with a look that could’ve killed him on the spot. Heeseung responded with a small, apologetic smile, raising his hands in surrender as if to say, "I let the invite slip."

Jay, beside you, crossed his arms over his chest, a smug little smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he whispered just for you and Jake to hear:

"Ohhh, this is gonna get very, very messy. I live for the drama, I can’t wait to see how our little wolf gets jealous!"

Soobin greeted all the guys with a fist bump or a high-five, but when he reached Allie, he wrapped her in a warm hug. When he got to you, he leaned down slightly to pull you into his arms and whispered, "Hey, beautiful."

Jake, standing beside you, closed his eyes, forcing himself to take a deep breath to calm the wolf inside him. All he had wanted was to spend a few peaceful days with you, cuddling by the fireplace, enjoying the snow. But Heeseung had let the news of the trip slip, and now both Soobin and Kai had invited themselves at the last minute. The thought infuriated Jake.

You spent almost the entire afternoon in the living room, helping to tidy up and prepare the house, mostly in the company of the three youngest members of the group and Soobin. Truthfully, your crush on Soobin had almost completely faded—perhaps the very moment Jake had kissed you for the first time at the Halloween party. But stubborn as you were, you still refused to admit, even to yourself, that you felt something so deep for him. You were afraid of his reputation as the campus heartthrob. Yet, day by day, you were discovering that behind the charming exterior lay a world of sweetness and devotion he showed to no one else.

When dinner was finally ready, Jake approached you with a hopeful voice and asked if you’d like to sit next to him at the big wooden table. You nodded with a smile, but before you could take a step, Soobin slipped into the empty space, taking the seat right across from you and forcing you to sit next to him to avoid making things awkward.

Jake stiffened instantly, his pout impossible to miss as he stabbed at his food with far too much force. Sunghoon, sitting across from him, chuckled quietly at the sight of his friend in such pure agony—all because he wanted his mate by his side.

After dinner—filled with laughter, teasing, and funny university stories—the group decided to move to the living room rug to play board games like UNO and Monopoly. Jake was determined to make up for lost time and definitely wanted to sit beside you. But no—before he could take three steps, Soobin had already settled next to you, chatting and making you laugh with his jokes. Watching you smile and laugh at Soobin’s antics, Jake felt a real, almost physical tightness in his chest.

God, was he really this unlucky? Was he seriously this jealous just seeing you smile at another guy? Okay, maybe it was somewhat justified, considering Soobin had been your crush until recently. But Jake didn’t want to be that guy, the possessive, heavy type. It wasn’t in his nature at all. Yet, in that moment, he was undeniably jealous.

By ten past ten, after countless games, the group decided to turn off the main lights and watch a movie together. Jake had already pictured the perfect scene: you and him snuggled under a heavy blanket on the couch, or at least sitting close with intertwined fingers. But when he saw you voluntarily walk over to the smaller couch and sit right next to Soobin and Allie, that was the final straw.

Jake didn’t say a single word. He stood up from the edge of the rug without greeting anyone, without making eye contact with anyone. Head down and tail completely still, he climbed the wooden stairs with heavy steps and locked himself in his bedroom.

After the movie had been playing for a while, you looked around to spot Jake’s dark hair and ears, curious to see where he had settled on the couch. But you frowned when you realized he wasn’t anywhere to be found. You leaned forward slightly, peering toward the kitchen counter, thinking he might have gone to grab a drink or a snack. But there was no sign of him.

The room was bathed in dim light, and most of the guys were half-asleep in their chairs or mesmerized by the screen. Taking advantage of the quiet moment, you slipped away, carefully moving the blanket you shared with Allie, and made your way up the stairs to the bedrooms to see if Jake was there.

You knew Jake had chosen the room directly across from yours, so you gently tapped the sliding door and whispered his name softly, you didn’t want to wake him if he was already asleep, which was likely since Jake loved going to bed early.

"Jake...?" you murmured, but there was no answer. In the dimness of the room, lit only by the pale glow of the snow filtering through the windows, you immediately saw his figure curled up under the covers of the large bed. A small smile tugged at your lips at the sight: his ears were slightly drooped, and he was clutching the pillow tightly with one arm, like a child with their favorite stuffed animal. You chuckled softly at the tender sight.

You tiptoed to the window to pull the heavy dark curtains shut, knowing how much he hated being woken by the direct morning light. Seeing him so peaceful and serene, you made your way to the bed, lifting a corner of the duvet and slipping in beside him, taking care not to make a sound so as not to wake him.

But Jake wasn’t actually asleep.

He had noticed your presence the moment you stepped through the doorway—his hybrid instincts had immediately perked up, recognizing your strawberry scent. He had chosen to stay still, pretending to be fast asleep to avoid you. With his eyes closed, he had sensed every single movement of yours: the rustle of the curtains being drawn, the slight dip of the mattress as your weight settled, and the warmth of your body next to his.

Inside his chest, his wolf side wanted to howl with joy, to bury itself in your neck and pull you close until you were breathless. But his human side was still hurt and upset—he was jealous as hell for not having even a single moment with you all evening. He wished with all his heart that you, too, had felt the same urgency to be with him rather than spend hours laughing with Soobin and the others.

However, before he could dwell on another bitter thought, he felt your hand reach for his under the covers, your fingers delicately intertwining with his. You snuggled even closer, resting your head near his shoulder. As always, the feeling of your body against his soothed him. A few seconds later, he felt your soft lips press gently against his cheek, followed by a barely audible whisper: "Goodnight, Jake..."

At that touch and those words, Jake’s mental barriers crumbled completely. His hybrid side was over the moon that you had chosen to come up to his room and slip into his bed of your own accord. Even his human side, though still a little sulky, had to surrender to the wonderful feeling of your closeness. Deep down, you had sensed that Jake at least wanted to spend the nights close to you. His wolf tail, hidden under the duvet, wagged silently, and Jake reciprocated your hand’s grip with a firm, warm squeeze. With all his heart, he hoped that the next day and New Year’s Eve night, would be much, much better.

Jake hated Heeseung with every fiber of his being for inviting Soobin. Couldn’t he just keep his mouth shut for once? If they had stayed at their own place—whether it was the apartment or the pack’s villa—you wouldn’t have spent the entire afternoon playing in the snow or racing on sleds while Soobin buzzed around you like an annoying fly that refused to leave.

Every single attempt Jake made to get close to you had failed miserably. He had imagined holding your hand, or simply walking beside you through the village’s festive markets, or even sitting down with you for a warm hot chocolate. But there was always some obstacle, or Soobin would swoop in: adjusting your scarf to keep you warm, buying you hot chocolate at the chalet, or even throwing snowballs at you while you both laughed like children. Jake, for his part, kept pretending everything was fine—forcing himself to laugh or act like he was okay. But it was all a farce. Every time he heard your laughter directed at Soobin, both his wolf and his human side grew sadder and more jealous.

Sunghoon tried to tease him a couple of times, but Jay—always perceptive when something was off with someone—immediately realized the situation was about to explode. Seeing one of his best friends trying to pretend everything was fine, Jay approached Jake in the late afternoon as the group began preparing the barbecue on the covered porch for the New Year’s Eve dinner. He positioned himself at Jake’s side.

"You don’t have to bottle everything up, Jake," Jay said in his usual low voice, the one he used when he didn’t want to be overheard. He didn’t look directly at Jake but glanced toward you in the other room. "Find a moment when she’s alone and finally talk to her about your feelings. Tell her what you feel for her. This back-and-forth has been going on for months... explain to her that she’s your mate. Make her understand that you’re hers and she’s yours."

Jake let out a short, bitter laugh, devoid of any amusement. "Easy for you to say... Soobin is always around her, and she doesn’t seem bothered by his presence at all. Maybe... maybe she still likes him." He spoke quietly, his ears flattening completely.

Jay raised an eyebrow, turning sharply toward him with an expression somewhere between disbelief and annoyance. "God, Jake, stop acting like this," Jay said, his tone stern but brotherly. "Last night, not even two minutes after you weren’t downstairs with us, she went straight up to your room to sleep with you. And this morning, she even made your favorite toast and brought it to you in bed. If you’d just open those eyes of yours, you’d see that she’s always looking for you... not Soobin."

Jake fell silent at Jay’s words.

"This behavior doesn’t suit you at all," Jay pressed on, crossing his arms over his chest. "Where’s the captain of the soccer team? Where’s the guy who, when he really wants something, takes it without hesitation? Where’s the brave guy who fought against all the university’s prejudices to become the first hybrid captain in campus history? I don’t even recognize you right now... so stop feeling sorry for yourself."

Jay gave him a light shove to snap him out of it, the kind they’d been giving each other for years. "Tonight, at the stroke of midnight, try to kiss her or at least tell her the truth. Girls go crazy for all these New Year’s Eve omens and traditions: the kiss under the mistletoe, the promise to start the new year together, the idea that whoever you kiss at midnight will be the person who stays with you for the next twelve months... use that to your advantage and claim your mate before it’s too late."

Jay’s words stirred something inside Jake as he watched you laughing with Allie. He thought about everything you two had been through and learned in the months you’d spent together, none of it trivial. You had trusted him, and he had become a better person because of you. He wouldn’t let this chance slip away. You were his mate, the only girl who had driven him wild maybe from the very first day he’d spoken to you.

The dress you had chosen for New Year’s Eve was simply stunning. You had never been the type to wear fancy or flashy outfits, but the moment you saw it in the shop window, you had fallen head over heels for it. The fabric clung perfectly to your body, accentuating all your natural curves, and ever since you started seeing Jake and especially after noticing the way his eyes lit up every time he looked at you a newfound confidence had blossomed within you.

The dress ended just above your thighs, elongating your legs. Your straight hair cascaded softly over your shoulders, and light makeup, adorned with tiny glitter around your eyes, made your gaze pop perfectly for the New Year’s celebration. As you descended the stairs, your eyes immediately locked with Jake’s.

He was standing at the bottom of the staircase, absolutely breathtaking in a white shirt that hugged his muscular chest and broad shoulders, paired with dark, elegant pants. The moment he saw you, he froze completely, his mouth falling open in awe at how beautiful you looked. You giggled softly when he ran a hand through his soft hair in a gesture of pure nervousness.

He instinctively took a couple of steps toward you, but suddenly, Soobin appeared—again—stepping in front of you with a dazzling smile. "Wow… Y/n, you look absolutely gorgeous tonight!" he said.

You smiled kindly and thanked him, but when Soobin offered you a freshly popped glass of champagne, your gaze instinctively drifted past his shoulder, searching for Jake. Discreetly, you placed the glass back on the nearby tray, politely declining. When it came to alcohol or parties, the only person you trusted blindly and the only one from whom you’d accept a drink, was Jake. After all, you had told him what had happened to you before.

All the other guys in the group joined in with compliments, telling you how stunning you looked. But deep down, all you wanted was Jake’s attention. You had spent the entire day with Soobin hovering around, and while you didn’t want to be rude or hurt his feelings, the only place you truly wanted to be was by Jake’s side. Without a second thought, you made your way through the group and positioned yourself right next to him.

You felt your cheeks flush red as you saw how intently he was staring at you. Jake, seeing you so beautiful yet slightly shy, leaned toward you, closing the distance between your bodies. He took a deep breath, inhaling your unmistakable strawberry scent directly from the exposed skin of your dress. Then, brushing his lips against the lobe of your ear, he murmured with a voice full of desire:

"Damn, sweetheart… you look incredibly beautiful in this dress."

You lifted your chin slightly, meeting his eyes, and softly replied, "You look really handsome tonight too, Sim…"

At your words, even he felt a little weak from the way you were looking at him. He leaned in, the tip of his nose gliding along the line of your neck, pressing against your skin. A shiver ran down your spine at that minimal yet devastating contact—one that both you and Jake had learned to love. He released a long sigh against your collarbone because, in that exact moment, all he wanted was to grab you by the hips, lift you into his arms, carry you upstairs to his room, and keep you pinned beneath him all night.

But before he could dwell on the thought, cheers erupted from the dining room as the other guys celebrated, followed by a theatrical, exaggerated cough from Ni-ki, who was watching you from the table. "Stop being so lovey-dovey, it’s time to eat and celebrate!" he said.

The evening had been going surprisingly well, and you had finally settled right next to Jake at the large table while you ate. He hadn’t stopped touching you for a single second—whether it was wrapping a warm arm around your back, slowly caressing your thigh where the short dress left it exposed, or brushing against you like a ghost. But every touch of his left an unmistakable, indelible trail of shivers across your skin.

Jake had truly thought he’d gotten away with it—that he could keep you close for the rest of the night. But of course, just when it seemed like everything was perfect, with midnight fast approaching, someone had suggested turning the music up full blast in the living room to start celebrating. And just like that, you slipped away from him.

At first, seeing you having fun with his packmates and Allie had warmed his heart. But when the music slowed and he saw you dancing near Soobin, his hybrid side had completely lost control. His inner wolf couldn’t take it anymore: he hated, hated, seeing you so close to someone else without his scent on you, without his mark... without being able to show everyone that you were his mate. Jake felt like he had tried everything these past few days, but he always ended up feeling like a shadow in the background.

Without saying a word to anyone, he shook his head and let out a deep sigh. He cast you one last, heartbroken glance as you laughed just a step away from Soobin, then walked upstairs with his head down. Just like the night before, he sought refuge in his bedroom. But this time, instead of collapsing onto the bed, he opened the French doors and stepped out onto the large balcony overlooking the valley.

In the darkness of the night, a few fireworks had already begun to light up the distant peaks of the snow-covered mountains, even though there were still ten minutes until the New Year. The icy air made him shiver, but it also helped snap him out of the trance of anger and sadness he had sunk into.

In reality, you had no intention of dancing with Soobin. When you saw Allie on the dance floor, you had simply joined her to keep her company. But after a few seconds, Heeseung had cut in, asking Allie to dance, leaving you alone next to Soobin. You had kept moving to the rhythm just to avoid being rude, but as soon as the song ended, you turned to him and said:

"I’m going to grab something to drink."

"Want me to get it for you?" Soobin offered immediately, but you quickly waved him off. "No, it’s fine, I’ll go myself!"

As soon as you walked away, you scanned the crowded living room for Jake, but he was nowhere to be found. You furrowed your brows—there were less than ten minutes until midnight, and it wasn’t like Jake to disappear like this.

"Where the hell did he go…?" you muttered under your breath.

"If you’re looking for your prince, he went up to his room," an unmistakable voice said from behind you. You spun around and saw Jay leaning against the counter with a glass in hand, giving you a small nod upward.

"Thanks, Jay!" you exclaimed, making your way toward the stairs. But before you could walk away, Jay called out to you in a low voice:

"Just stop it already and tell each other how you really feel."

Those words gave you courage. You rushed up the stairs and pushed open the door to his room, but Jake wasn’t lying in bed like he had been the night before. Instead, you saw the heavy dark curtains swaying from a draft, and the balcony’s French door slightly ajar. You realized he was outside. You pushed the glass door open, and there he was, leaning on the wooden railing with his elbows, his ears stiff and lowered, staring at the vapor of his own breath, the snowflakes falling slowly, and the first fireworks on the horizon.

"Jake…?" you said softly, but he didn’t turn around. He remained still in his position, his broad shoulders tense from the cold and the built-up frustration of the past few days. You took a few steps closer, hugging your arms to protect yourself from the cold in your short dress.

"It’s freezing out here… why aren’t you downstairs celebrating with everyone else?"

At first, Jake didn’t answer you. The only sounds were the fireworks, the music, and the falling snow. But when he finally turned to face you, his expression was nothing like the usual sweet, playful, or teasing one you were used to. His features were carved into something extremely hard and wounded, and his eyes, overwhelmed by his animalistic nature, held an almost feral intensity as they locked onto you.

At the sight, you instinctively took a small step back, surprised by the imposing and somber aura that didn’t match the Jake you knew. He fixed his gaze on you and said in a voice so low it was almost a growl:

"I’m tired, Y/n."

You swallowed hard, struck by his words, and murmured with a voice trembling from the cold and agitation: "Tired of what, Jake?"

You heard his laugh a rough, joyless sound.

"Tired of what?" he repeated. "Damn it, Y/n... I thought I could spend these days alone with you but no. Your old crush just had to waltz back into your life, the very reason this whole thing between us started as a game. But it’s not a fucking game to me anymore!"

You stared at him, slightly confused, your eyes widening. "What does Soobin have to do with this?"

Jake looked at you in disbelief, as if you’d just asked the most absurd question in the world. "What does Soobin have to do with this?! Y/n, have you even noticed that since he got here, all he does is hover around you, seeking your attention? And you give it to him!" he exclaimed, raising his voice just enough to make you flinch in the silence of the night. You lowered your gaze, hugging your arms to your chest, and retorted quietly:

"Jake, I pay attention to everyone... God, I spent hours with Sunoo decorating cookies, and I was with Jungwon and Sunghoon on the ice rink too! And it didn’t seem to bother you then!"

Jake took a step toward you. "No, it didn’t bother me because they’re part of my pack!"

You let out a nervous laugh, lifting your head. "So it’s fine if they’re part of your pack, but if I talk to Soobin or Kai, it’s a problem?!"

At that, Jake closed the distance between you completely, overwhelming you with his warmth. "Damn right it is! Y/n, I’m jealous, okay?! Happy now? I’m crazy jealous of seeing you laugh with someone else, of seeing you next to another man... especially if that guy is someone you liked! Because... because, damn it, you’re my mate!"

The word hung in the air, and you furrowed your brows, caught off guard by the revelation delivered with such intensity. You’d heard that word whispered at the university or among hybrids before, but you’d never really questioned it. "Mate...? Isn’t that... isn’t that the same word Ni-ki used yesterday?"

Jake nodded sharply but averted his gaze, suddenly vulnerable and scared of his own admission. He was afraid it might be too much for you to understand what that word truly meant. Seeing him like that, you couldn’t stay detached any longer. You took another step closer and reached out, placing your delicate fingers under his chin to force him to meet your eyes. "Look at me and talk to me, Jake. What does it really mean that I’m your mate?"

He shook his head slightly, clenching his jaw, overwhelmed by emotions. But at that exact moment, the collective voice of the entire pack and the others echoed from below, shouting the countdown at the top of their lungs: "...5! ...4! ...3! ...2! ...1!"

At the stroke of midnight, as the first fireworks exploded in the valley and lit up the sky above the mountains with red and golden reflections, you leaned forward, gripped the collar of his shirt, and yanked him toward you, pressing your lips against his. It was like setting off a time bomb—Jake’s control shattered completely. With an animalistic growl, he grabbed your hips firmly and pushed you back, pinning you against the glass of the French door. The kiss became wild, dirty, possessive loaded with all the jealousy and desire he’d been holding back for days at the sight of you being so friendly with everyone.

Jake didn’t ask for permission because you’d been his for a long time. His tongue slid hungrily into your mouth, claiming every single millimeter, tasting you with a near-desperate avidity. His large, burning hands contrasted with yours as they traveled up the curve of your back, gripping the flesh of your hips through the thin fabric of your dress, trapping you between the cold glass and his body, which radiated excitement pheromones.

As he pulled away from your lips for just a millisecond, trailing wet kisses and gentle bites down the line of your neck, you whispered: "Mmmh... Jake... please, I want an answer..."

Jake suddenly returned to your ear, deliberately catching the lobe between his teeth in a bite that made you jolt, before saying: "Stop being so curious, sweetheart... Tonight, I’ll answer everything. But first, I’m going to teach you who you really belong to."

As you were kissing, Jake pushed the door open, and you stumbled backward, finally finding warmth as Jake refused to stop kissing you. Without meaning to or maybe you did, you arched against him, and Jake groaned against your lips. He spun you around to face the mirror, his body molding perfectly to yours. His arm wrapped around your waist, one hand splayed possessively over your stomach while the other slowly traced the inside of your bare thighs. The sight of you both in the mirror, so close, sent a shiver through you. You looked beautiful together.

Jake sighed against your neck, his voice rough. "Fuck, sweetheart, I haven’t been able to stop looking at you or touching you, since you walked down those damn stairs." His finger teased the edge of your panties, and you gasped, your voice trembling as you stuttered his name. "J-Jake..."

He chuckled darkly against the curve of your neck. "Ever come while watching yourself in the mirror?" Your cheeks burned crimson, and you shook your head quickly, too flustered to form a coherent thought.

"Well… there’s a first time for everything, isn’t there?" he murmured, his smirk wicked as your legs threatened to give out beneath you. But his strong, steady hands held you firmly against him, pinned between his scorching chest and the mirror.

"Slide your panties down, sweetheart." His command sent a wave of heat through you. You closed your eyes in embarrassment but lifted the hem of your dress slightly, letting the lace slip down your thighs. When the red fabric pooled at your feet, Jake’s pupils narrowed into feral slits, his animalistic nature surfacing. He growled against your ear, "Fuck… who the hell did you think you were wearing those for?"

You whispered his name, and at your answer, he let the panties fall to the floor. His hand slid up, gripping the fabric of your dress. "Hold the hem up for me, baby. I want to watch you come while looking at your reflection… with my fingers inside you." His voice dropped lower. "And I want you to understand, once and for all, that only I can reduce you to this state. No one else. Got it?"

You stammered, desperately trying to keep control, but you nodded. You’d never watched yourself touch or come before, but with Jake, you were experiencing so many firsts—firsts that made you feel safe, cherished. He pulled you even closer, and you felt just how hard he was, pressed against your ass through his tailored pants.

With a slow, deliberate movement, his right hand slid between your thighs. His thumb found your already swollen, soaked clit, and he began to circle it—alternating between deep, slow pressure and rapid, teasing flicks, occasionally pinching just enough to make you gasp. His touch was so precise, as if he’d memorized your body long ago. Your hips instinctively rocked back, seeking more contact, and in the mirror, you saw Jake’s gaze locked onto the way your lips parted, letting out sharp, uncontrollable moans of pleasure.

"Spread your legs a little for me, sweetheart…" he whispered, tightening his grip on your hip to guide you. You obeyed without hesitation, as if his words were a command you couldn’t resist. In the mirror, the scene was laid bare in all its raw, erotic clarity: the hem of your dress trembling in your fingers, your glistening, swollen lips fully exposed to the dim light of the room and the distant glow of fireworks still flickering outside.

At the sight, Jake let out a low groan against your ear, captivated by how open, how undone you were for him. He loved seeing you like this, overwhelmed, yet secure in yourself and in him. After all, just months ago, he knew you couldn’t stand his presence.

Without breaking eye contact with the mirror, he thrust his hips forward, his painfully hard cock pressing firmly against your bare ass through his pants. The friction was maddening, and you could feel how much he wanted you, how much he needed you.

Before you could catch your breath, the tip of his middle finger brushed against your still-clothed clit. In that exact moment, you moaned his name and arched your back against him, your head falling onto his shoulder. His grip on your flesh was firm as his finger began to slide in and out of you with a slow, almost torturous rhythm, driving you wild. Each thrust shifted your panties, and every time he nearly pulled out completely before plunging back in to the knuckle, you felt your inner walls clench instinctively around him, desperate to feel him again.

"Please... Jake, please... more... don’t stop, I want more..." you stammered, bending your knees slightly as they threatened to give out at the sight of yourself in the mirror, so open, so exposed, just for him. Jake let out a smug little smirk, savoring the way you were begging for him. Who would’ve thought the girl who used to roll her eyes at the sight of him, who couldn’t stand him, would be this undone from just his touch?

"Look at yourself..." he murmured, poking at your pride for how submissive you were for him.

"Look how far you’ve fallen... Where’s all that sass you used to throw at Soobin, huh? Look in the mirror and tell me...who are you dripping for? Who are you moaning for?"

You stammered his name, and he praised you, pressing harder as he spread your legs wider, exposing you completely. Without warning, he slid his index finger inside your tight heat alongside the first, and a cry of pure pleasure echoed through the room. Thankfully, there was music playing, though Jake didn’t seem to think it was loud enough. He chuckled against your ear as he curled his fingers upward, hitting that spot inside you that drove you wild.

"You want everyone downstairs to hear you, sweetheart?" he teased, his rhythm inside you picking up slightly. "Just a reminder—the house is full of people. We’re not alone here."

"T-the fireworks outside... they’ll cover... our noises..." you managed to say, and Jake let out a deep, vibrating laugh, unsure if you were serious or sarcastic.

"The fireworks won’t last all night, baby... but I will," he whispered against you, and the thought of Jake keeping you locked in that room, teasing you, wanting you, taking you for hours until dawn sent a shiver through your entire body. You blushed even harder, your cheeks burning as you realized how much you loved the idea.

"J-Jake... y-you can’t... really, you..." You tried to speak seriously, but the words died in your throat when he stopped talking and started pumping his fingers inside you faster. The wet, obscene sounds of his fingers sinking into your arousal filled the room, only partially drowned out by the last booms of the fireworks outside and the music below. The pleasure had built to an unbearable level, and you wanted to hold onto something, needed an anchor as the world around you began to blur. But your hands only clenched the fabric of your dress.

"I-I’m going to come... Jake! I’m going to come, fuck!" you stammered, overwhelmed by pleasure. He gave you no mercy, pressing his lips to your neck and sinking his teeth into the delicate skin where your shoulder met your neck, biting down with just enough pressure to awaken his possessive instinct. That slight pain, combined with the relentless overstimulation, his thumb pressing in sharp, rhythmic pulses against your hypersensitive clit, the hardness of his cock grinding against your bare ass, and his two fingers slamming deep into your scorching walls, was the final push.

Your body tensed abruptly, your back arching as you threw your head back against his chest, and a muffled, drawn-out scream tore from your throat as the orgasm crashed over you completely.

Jake didn’t pull his fingers out. He kept moving them slowly inside you, prolonging every single contraction of your climax, enjoying the sight in the mirror, your flushed face, your parted lips, your ragged breaths that lifted your chest higher with each inhale. When the spasms of your orgasm finally began to fade, and your legs stopped trembling, he slid his fingers out of you with agonizing slowness. He turned you gently in his arms, pressing his forehead against yours and holding you tightly against his chest. He kissed the top of your head as you buried your face in the crook of his neck, still breathing heavily, inhaling his reassuring, familiar scent.

"Happy New Year, sweetheart..." he whispered, and you let out a soft laugh against his warm skin, murmuring back, "Happy New Year, Sim..."

You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, adding with a mischievous, euphoric grin: "If every year starts like this... well, we should do it forever."

Jake let out a laugh that sent a shiver down your spine. "Don’t put ideas in my head, sweetheart... because I might just take that proposal very seriously."

At his words, you leaned back slightly and reached for him, pulling him close to give him a sweet, lingering kiss on the lips. Then you gazed at him, your eyes brimming with emotion. "What you said earlier, was it true?"

He looked at you curiously, his ears twitching slightly. "I said a lot of things earlier... what are you referring to?"

You chuckled again, tracing his chin with your finger. "The part about going all night."

Jake’s tail froze mid-movement, stiffening in an instant. Within a second, his cheeks flushed a deep red. "I-I just said it in the moment... I didn’t mean to rush you or..."

But you didn’t let him finish. You leaned into him and whispered with absolute clarity against his lips: "I want you, Jake."

Jake swallowed, caught off guard by your bold determination. His fingers trembled with emotion as he caressed your side, his gaze locking onto yours with an almost fearful intensity. He wanted to be one hundred percent sure you meant what you’d just said, he didn’t want to rush things between you. "Are you... are you sure?"

You nodded without a hint of hesitation, sliding your arms away from your body to give him space. With slow but deliberate movements, you let the straps of your dress slip down your shoulders, letting the fabric pool at your feet. You stood before him completely naked, save for the red lace bra that matched the panties already discarded on the floor.

At the sight of you, half-naked, glistening with your own arousal, and completely willing, something primal snapped inside his inner wolf. A shiver ran down his spine as his animalistic instincts surged. He’d wanted you for weeks, maybe even months, and had told himself to give you all the time you needed but now, his instinct to protect and claim roared in his chest. The playful Jake, the team captain—he was still there, but his predatory nature had taken over. He was a predator who had finally found his mate

His sharp sense of smell immediately picked up your sweet strawberry scent filling the room. You slid your smaller hand into his large one, intertwining your fingers as you both moved toward the king-sized bed. You stretched out on the soft mattress, spreading your arms wide in invitation: "Come here..."

Jake nodded, moving carefully as he positioned himself above you, making sure not to press his full weight onto your body. He kissed you with overwhelming passion, then trailed a line of scorching kisses along your jaw, down your neck, and toward the curve of your exposed breasts peeking out from your bra.

As you squirmed slightly beneath him from the pleasure, you noticed something amusing and pulled away from the kiss for a second, giggling: "Hey... you’re still fully dressed! That’s not fair at all!" you pouted.

Jake chuckled, stealing another kiss as you helped him unbutton his white shirt one by one. When you finally pulled it off his shoulders, revealing his bare chest, ripped with defined abs—you ran your palms across his torso, savoring the feel of his smooth, burning skin under your fingers. Your hands wandered lower, brushing against the metallic buckle of his dress pants.

Jake shook his head with a deep sigh, gently grasping your wrists to pause your exploration. He stared down at you, desperate to confirm you were absolutely sure about what you were about to do. "Tell me you’re absolutely sure about this," he murmured. "Because I swear, Y/n... once I’m inside you, I won’t let you go. You’ll be mine for the whole night. I’ve wanted you for months, and I can’t resist you anymore."

Instead of scaring you, his words only stoked your desire. You arched your hips upward, pressing your exposed intimacy against the fabric of his pants, right where his erection strained. You whispered in his ear, "Show me how much you want me, Jake."

Jake closed his eyes at your response, never breaking eye contact as he unbuckled his belt and let his pants slide down, revealing his toned legs and the black boxer briefs clinging to his hips. At the sight, you rolled your eyes slightly with an amused smile tugging at your lips. "Always with these Calvin Kleins, Sim!"

He shrugged, teasing you: "Don’t complain too much, you know you like how they fit. I’ve seen the way you stare at my hips every time I stretch or walk around shirtless, how your eyes linger on the waistband of my boxers."

You bit your lower lip, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks because he’d caught you. "What if... what if I take them off myself?" you asked.

Jake nodded slowly. "Go ahead, baby. I’m all yours."

With slightly trembling hands, you reached out and hooked your fingers into the waistband of his boxers, sliding them down agonizingly slowly. Inch by inch, his full length was revealed, and when his cock, freed from the fabric, fell against his sculpted abs, you instinctively licked your lips. You’d seen him naked before, but it was always a breathtaking sight.

His cock was thick, slightly veined, with a mushroom-shaped tip, fully erect, and you noticed a glistening bead of pre-cum at the tip—an unmistakable sign of his desire for you. Seeing you so stunned, almost enchanted by his nudity, Jake swallowed hard. He loved the way his mate admired him so openly, and it sent a thrill through his hybrid nature.

"Fuck..." he rasped, his voice rough. "You drive me wild when you look at me like that, Y/n. I love having your full attention. You have no idea how much it makes my inner wolf crave you."

You smiled and stretched out on the bed. His eyes followed your every movement, curious about what you were doing. He watched as you reached for your clutch on the nightstand and pulled out a condom. Jake let out a surprised cough.

"And where did you get that from?" he asked, amused. "I didn’t think the nerd of the class would be full of surprises!"

A little shy, you lowered your gaze. "I... I got it from Allie. You know, just in case."

Jake tore open the condom wrapper with a sharp movement, gripping the tip and rolling it down the thick, heavy length of his hard cock. Your heart pounded in your chest as you stared at his penis, realizing that all of it—every inch—would soon be inside you. You swallowed nervously, the tension rising in your body. Jake immediately sensed your anxiety and leaned slightly over you, his face just centimeters from yours.

"It’s going to be okay, sweetheart," he murmured softly, reassuringly. "If anything hurts or if you want me to stop, I will. I promise."

You nodded, feeling some of the tension ease from your shoulders at his words, and kissed him softly on the lips. Jake gently lifted your legs, spreading them and pressing your thighs against his hips. At the sight of your smooth, bare skin, your glistening, slightly swollen pussy from his earlier fingers, his hybrid side trembled. His ears perked up, his tail twitched nervously behind him, and his inner wolf howled with desire, with the need to claim you as his mate. But Jake forced himself to stay calm, as he always did with you, to keep control. He pushed his hips forward, aligning the thick, blunt tip of his cock against your entrance. The heat of him mixing with yours made you hold your breath.

Your hands immediately went to his shoulders as you closed your eyes, preparing for the sensation of his shaft entering you. But Jake’s voice interrupted your thoughts.

"Look at me," he commanded in a low voice. "I want your mind filled with only this, only these beautiful images of me taking you, loving you the way you deserve. No more bad memories, okay?"

At his command, you reopened your eyes. Jake saw they were slightly glossy as you lifted your gaze to meet his.

"I’ll go slow, very slow, baby," Jake promised, his jaw clenching as he fought to restrain himself. "If it hurts too much, tell me, and I’ll stop. I promise. Just tell me if you’re ready?"

"Please, Jake, put it in. I need... I need to feel you, to feel like I’m yours."

The thick, blunt tip of Jake’s cock forced its way into your pussy, making you let out a sharp cry as your body instinctively tensed at the sudden invasion. Jake, however, reacted quickly: he leaned down and captured that cry with his lips, smothering it in a deep kiss. Fuck, downstairs were all the other hybrids from the pack and his friends. His animalistic side was euphoric—he wanted to howl to the world that he was taking you, that you were his. But his human side knew you’d die of embarrassment tomorrow if anyone had heard.

"Fuck... oh my God," you moaned desperately against his mouth as soon as he pulled back slightly, feeling his huge cock inside you. You knew he was big—you’d seen it but feeling it was overwhelming. You could already sense the tip pressing against your stomach.

"Breathe, sweetheart, breathe for me," Jake murmured.

The sensation of your pussy enveloping the tip of his cock was indescribable, it almost made him see stars. He’d never felt anything like it in his life. In that exact moment, Jake understood, truly understood, why other hybrids described sex with their mate for the first time as a mystical experience, an awakening of the senses. It wasn’t just physical pleasure; it was a heavenly connection that made his soul vibrate. His inner wolf was literally howling with joy, recognizing your sweet strawberry scent mixed with his as the scent of his chosen, the female destined for him for eternity. He felt the bond tightening indissolubly around his heart, branding him as yours.

"Fuck, you’re so tight, baby," he groaned, almost choking on the overstimulation. But as he’d promised, Jake didn’t push deeper. He stayed perfectly still above you, letting the tip rest gently inside to allow you to relax and adjust to the enormous girth stretching you open. His jaw was clenched, the muscles in his arms tense with the desperate effort to keep from pounding into you wildly. A fleeting thought crossed his mind: If you’re this tight now, how the hell are you going to take all of me when I’m in heat, or when I knot you? But feeling you panting convulsively beneath him, your breasts rising and falling rapidly against his bare chest, he had to push those thoughts away to keep from coming instantly.

It didn’t hurt, not anymore but the feeling of fullness was overwhelming, almost painful in its intensity. You felt completely stretched and filled in a way that was entirely different from his fingers.

"Okay," you finally gasped, gripping his muscular shoulders and pulling him closer. "Okay... you can keep going."

Jake didn’t need to be told twice. He moved his hips with torturous slowness, leaning down to press his lips first to your sweaty forehead, then your cheek, and finally your mouth. He kissed you deeply, his tongue seeking yours to distract you, to keep you from thinking about anything but the intensity of what he was about to do. Then, he gently pushed his hips forward.

You moaned desperately into his mouth as his thick cock slid deeper, ruthlessly parting your tight walls, inch by inch. Thankfully, your earlier arousal and his fingers had left you perfectly lubricated, allowing his shaft to glide in. But his exaggerated size meant you felt every single vein, every millimeter of skin forcing its way into your body.

"Fuck," Jake cursed hoarsely against your lips as he pushed deeper, lowering his hips until the base of his cock settled perfectly against your groin. The thrust was so deep that the tip of his cock hit your G-spot, sending a jolt of pure pleasure through you that made you arch your back. You wildly pulled at his hair, the sensation slowly becoming more and more pleasurable for your body.

His cock filled you perfectly, fitting inside you as if it had been forged specifically for your pussy. You could feel his shaft stretching the most sensitive tissues deep within you, and the thin latex of the condom did little to hide the heat radiating from him. The friction was wet and slick, and with every slow thrust, your sweat-slicked bodies slapped together with an obscene, carnal sound that echoed through the silent room as he possessed you completely, pinning you to the mattress and making you feel like his in every cell of your being.

"Are you okay?" Jake panted, leaning over you. "Sweetheart, look at me. Tell me you’re okay, that everything’s fine," he said, a hint of panic in his voice. For him, this night had to be perfect, he wanted to erase every shadow of your past and replace it with only the memory of his touch.

"Yes..." you stammered, and at the same time, you wrapped your legs around his muscular hips, pulling him even closer to you. "Yes. Fuck, you’re so big. It’s... it’s a completely new feeling... I’ve never felt anything like it."

"In a good way?" Jake asked with a rough chuckle as he pulled back a few centimeters, only to ruthlessly plunge back into you. You moaned loudly, digging your feet into his ass to maintain that deep contact.

"Yes!" you exclaimed with a smile brimming with pure bliss. Hearing your words and feeling how close you were, Jake withdrew his hips with torturous slowness, making you whimper as that thick mass slid out, only to thrust forward again with precision, hitting the exact same deep spot he had stimulated earlier with his fingers.

His thrusts lost all their initial regularity and gentleness as his hybrid side began to take over.

"Oh my God, Jake... harder!" you cried, violently arching your back against the mattress as a wave of pleasure crashed over you. You were shocked by how perfectly your body was taking him, as if it had been created just for him... and maybe it had. Jake grinned at the sight.

"Look how much you like it when I fuck you like this... look how well you take my cock. You’re my mate, and I’ll never let you go, Y/n," he growled as he pulled back and sank deep again, hitting your G-spot perfectly.

"Oh my God, Jake! You’re so big... I can’t take it!" you sobbed, throwing your head back against the pillow as your vision blurred from the intensity of the sensations.

The room was now filled only with your intertwined moans, the wet slap of your sweat-slicked skin, and the wooden bed creaking with every deep thrust.

"J-Jake... fuck... everyone upstairs or downstairs is going to hear us!" you stammered between moans, hearing the bed creak. Jake let out a groan against your neck:

"Did you just notice that, sweetheart? I told you earlier!"

"But... but there were fireworks covering it up!" you stammered, and Jake chuckled.

"Fuck, Y/n... you’re so fucking beautiful. You’re so tight, baby. Holy shit, now I understand why everyone told me that doing it with your mate is a whole different story..."

Hearing that word again, you tried to protest and understand what it meant: "Jake... please, tell me what it means..."But Jake denied you the answer once more.

"J-Jake... fuck, I’m going to come... I’m going to come again!" you stammered, breathless, arching your back and tightening your legs around his hips. Jake lowered his gaze to you, unable to wait to see you come. "Good girl, sweetheart... come for me. Look how well you take my cock... let go, I’ve got you."

To push you over the edge, Jake reached down with his thumb, finding and rubbing your hypersensitive clit in small, rapid circles. The overstimulation was devastating: the rhythmic, deep impact of his cock inside you, combined with the relentless touch on your clit, sent you spiraling. You cried out as the walls of your pussy clenched violently in continuous spasms around his shaft, and you came around him in a scorching wave of pleasure that made you tremble from your shoulders to your knees. The pulsing, wet grip of your orgasm shattered Jake’s control completely. With a final growl, he thrust one last time, burying his hips against yours as his body stiffened above you. He came inside the condom, filling it with long, intense spasms that made him throw his head back.

For a long minute, the only sounds in the room were your ragged breathing, the faint booms of fireworks still exploding in the distance, and the low bass of the music thumping from downstairs. Jake was completely exhausted, and you felt his muscular arms give out as he collapsed forward, gently pressing you into the mattress. He buried his face in the crook of your neck as you felt the warm weight of his body and the rapid beat of his heart against your chest.

Your hands immediately went to his head, sliding through his soft hair to gently caress his wolf ears. As soon as you touched them, you felt Jake purring, and as you both relaxed skin against skin, Jake mumbled sleepily against your neck: "You okay, sweetheart?"

You nodded slowly, continuing to stroke his ears. "Yes... it was all perfect, Sim."

Jake nodded in return, pressing a trail of warm, small kisses right over your scent gland on your neck before lifting himself slightly on his arms to look at your face. "I’m glad... and I’m glad your scent around me is getting stronger and sweeter," he said with a satisfied smirk. You gently caressed his cheeks with your fingertips, making him relax even more under your touch.

"I know we’ve never officially confessed anything... but fuck, sweetheart, I like you so damn much, and I know you feel the same. I see it in the way you look at me, the way you act around me, and the fact that you’ve opened your heart to me, even telling me about your past." He sounded slightly intimidated by his own confession, and you smiled softly, meeting his gaze.

"Well, I thought it was pretty obvious that I like you too, Sim..."

At those words, a radiant smile spread across Jake’s face. He lowered his head and began covering your face with light, rapid pecks: one on your forehead, one on each cheek, one on your chin, and another on the tip of your nose.

You rolled your eyes slightly upward with a mock-annoyed expression, though it wasn’t true at all, you loved this side of Jake, so obsessed with touching you and having you. Even as you laughed, you said: "Mmmh, my God... you’re so clingy tonight!"

The bed was a tangle of thick blankets that kept you both wonderfully warm, while a timid sliver of light crept into the room through the gap in the curtain. Outside, the snow continued to fall, and the wind howled louder and louder beyond the villa. Beside you, Jake was fast asleep, his face buried in the crook of your neck as he held you tightly against him, as if afraid you might vanish if he loosened his grip even slightly. The sight of him so peaceful made a small smile tug at your lips. You checked your phone screen it wasn’t even 7 a.m. yet, but the sound of the icy wind whistling outside had woken you early. All you could hear was the wind and the falling snow.

Your hands wandered lazily through his soft hair, caressing his wolf ears, which were just as soft. At your touch, Jake pressed even deeper against your skin, the tip of his nose lightly tickling your neck. His warm, steady breath tickled your chest with every inhale, and it was a sensation you never wanted to lose even though you generally disliked physical contact, Jake had made you appreciate it over the past few months.

"Y/n..." he mumbled suddenly, his voice thick with sleep, pulling the heavy duvet higher to cover your shoulders. But you didn’t answer right away, instead continuing to gently scratch the base of his ears. Jake shifted slightly to look at you.

"Why are you already awake, sweetheart?"

You glanced at the gap in the curtain and hesitated before answering: "I was thinking..."

Jake let out a low chuckle against your collarbone, automatically purring again as he nuzzled closer. "I know for sure it’s too early to be thinking. Go back to sleep, baby..." he sighed, closing his eyes again and pulling you even tighter against him. His tail, hidden under the blankets, began to wag lazily against your legs—but it froze suddenly when he heard your voice again, this time serious and wide awake.

"I was thinking about what Jay and Ni-ki meant the other day... and what you meant a few hours ago when you called me your mate. What does it really mean, Jake?"

Jake swallowed hard, and his entire body tensed at your request to understand the meaning of the word mate. You could feel the tension building in his muscles, his agitation taking over. Jake wasn’t the type to keep things bottled up, but he had no idea how to explain it without scaring you.

"Oh, it’s just... just a word. It’s used loosely, it’s exaggerated..." he muttered evasively, trying to bury his face against you again to avoid the conversation. But you pushed back slightly to look at him, and Jake kept you firmly pinned against his chest, refusing to let you go.

"Seriously, Jake," you grumbled against his shoulder. "Tell me what your friends meant, and tell me what youmeant."

He let out a long, resigned sigh and pulled back slightly, resting his head on the pillow and turning his body so he could finally look at you face-to-face. His large hand immediately reached up to caress your cheek, his thumb brushing your soft skin.

"Good morning, sweetheart..." he whispered with a sly smirk. "Maybe I should’ve just pretended to sleep a little longer, huh?"

You rolled your eyes at his response but instinctively nuzzled into his warm hand. "I want to understand you, Jake. I’ve opened my heart to you and told you everything about my past... now I want to understand what that word means. That word you seem so afraid of. And what it means for our future."

You leaned toward him, wrapping your arms around him and sliding your bare legs deeper between his. Jake pouted slightly, clearly defeated by your sweetness and determination to know the truth. He looked at the ceiling for a moment to gather his thoughts, then turned back to meet your gaze with disarming vulnerability, his ears slightly lowered. He began to speak in a low, sincere voice:

"The word mate... for us hybrids, it’s one of the most important words there is. Along with pack and family, these are the most sacred things in our lives. It’s a biological and definitive factor for us hybrids when we say these words in our daily lives." He whispered softly, his hand continuing to stroke your cheek as you listened intently, your heart beating faster with every word.

"I don’t know if you’re aware, but every hybrid has to find their mate at some point—whether they’re human or another hybrid. It’s a completely animalistic instinct, tied to our animal side. And when a person realizes they’ve found their other half... there’s no one else in the world for them. Because... you become their half for life."

Jake paused briefly, his gaze flickering to your eyes, afraid you wouldn’t understand what he was saying.

"When a hybrid discovers who their mate is, their animal side chooses them, recognizes them through their scent. And from that moment on, their only purpose becomes protecting them, loving them, and staying by their side. I... I realized over time that it was you. From your strawberry scent that I couldn’t stop thinking about, to seeing you happy, to always wanting you close... but most of all, from the need to touch you. We hybrids, in general, love physical contact—even with our pack when we’re feeling down. All those times I used an excuse to get your attention or to brush against you... it was my instincts trying to make me understand that you were my chosen one."

He gave a shy little smile. "Let’s just say I was very stubborn, because some of the pack, especially Jay, Ni-ki, and Sunghoon-figured it out right away, from the first time you walked into our house. And there’s no going back, Y/n. If you accept being my mate... I’m yours forever. And that’s what I was so fucking scared of, not what I feel, because I’m already a goner, sweetheart... but that it might be too fast for you, or that it might scare you after everything you’ve been through."

He closed his eyes slightly, releasing the tension he’d been carrying for days. You never would’ve thought that Jake, the bold guy who constantly teased you, the one you always saw having fun at every party, the one you initially thought only cared about himself—would be openly declaring that he was yours for life. That you were his mate.

Without being able to stop it, a warm tear slid down your cheek. Jake reopened his eyes, and seeing the wet trail on your face, he panicked.

"Hey... sweetheart... fuck, why are you crying?!" he stammered, his ears drooping instantly in alarm. He brought his hands to both sides of your face to wipe your cheek. "Fuck, I knew it... I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m an idiot, I scared you..."

But before he could finish, you leaned forward and kissed him with a sweetness and intensity you’d never felt before in your life. When you pulled back just a few millimeters, your lips still touching, you whispered between ragged breaths: "These are tears of joy, you idiot..."

Jake was stunned for a second, then let out a long sigh of relief that melted all the tension in his chest. He kissed you back fiercely, burying his hands in your hair and pulling you even closer under the warm duvet. He finally felt free from the huge weight he’d been carrying inside for weeks, and his wolf and his soul were officially at peace. He was overjoyed that he’d had the courage to tell you how he felt—that you were his mate.

"There’s something else you need to know, Y/n..." Jake murmured, his gaze sliding to the side with visible discomfort. You looked at him, raising an eyebrow with an amused smile tugging at your lips, and teased him by tracing a finger along his jawline:

"Oh my God... what now? Are you scared of discovering that you turn into a werewolf like in Twilight and that you’re my full-sized Jacob every time there’s a full moon?"

But at your joke, Jake unexpectedly grew serious. He didn’t laugh like he usually would, and he didn’t touch you. Instead, he pulled his hands away from your cheeks and brought them to his chest, speaking in a low voice: "You... you know that hybrids have heat cycles, right? And that... well, if we don’t use a condom... we knot our partners, especially if that partner is our mate?"

His cheeks turned an intense shade of red from embarrassment—if you were a hybrid, this wouldn’t be an issue, but you were human. Your mouth fell open, freezing mid-air for a second.

"Wait... what?"

Jake immediately covered his face with one hand, muffling a groan into his palm. "Fuck... I think this is officially the most embarrassing moment of my entire life, right next to when my mom explained it to me as a kid," he said, letting out a nervous chuckle.

Your curiosity was instantly piqued. You shifted onto your side, propping yourself up over him and pressing your torso against his chest, poking a finger directly into his chin. "No, no, no... you’re talking now, Sim! No hands on your face, I want all the details."

Jake huffed, removing his hand from his face but still looking visibly uncomfortable, his wolf ears flattened backward in embarrassment.

"There’s not that much to explain," he began, looking up at the ceiling to gather his thoughts. "Let’s just say that all of us in the pack go into heat periodically. Some, like rabbits, go into heat more often. Others, like some of the bigger predators, only once a year. Some go into heat right after finding their mate. And me, as a wolf hybrid, I go into heat about two or three times a year. It lasts a few days, and during that time, my animal side pretty much takes over. I can’t leave my room, my nest—because my body turns into a furnace, and the need for contact is constant, almost painful if I don’t satisfy it. Now that I’ve found you, now that I have my mate... I imagine things will change for me. But if you’re not with me during that time... fuck, it’s going to be a nightmare to handle alone, even if I live with other hybrids who could calm me with their pheromones. But you’re my mate, so... in simple terms, when we go into heat... or just when we decide to have sex without a condom... that primal instinct to knotour mate kicks in. Knots don’t happen with just any girl, they only happen with our chosen one."

You let out a laugh, resting your chin on his stomach and looking at him with a hint of irony. "Oh, well! What an immense honor! I have the pseudo-privilege of having the compatible anatomy to be knotted by a hybrid! Should I add it to my resume?"

Jake huffed, giving you a mock stern look. "I’m serious, baby! I’m not joking. When we have sex without protection, the base of my cock swells, and we get locked together for about twenty minutes. We can’t separate until the knot goes down." He said quietly.

"From my side as a hybrid... it’s the most extreme sense of fulfillment I can experience. It’s the moment when my wolf is completely at peace, knowing I’ve got you locked and safe beneath me, claimed. Because when a mate is claimed for the first time with a knot, all the other hybrids will be able to sense it, especially my scent on your body. And the same goes for you. When the knot expands inside you, I’ll fill you completely, and it’ll trigger a series of continuous orgasmic spasms that release a lot more semen than usual. This act is meant to biologically mark my mate and make me feel like you’re entirely mine. And for you—for a human—the fullness and warmth of that moment is supposedly a pleasure so intense it’ll blow your mind."

You listened carefully, letting each word sink into your mind. The vivid, possessive description sent a scorching shiver straight to your core. Without a second thought, you climbed on top of him, almost straddling his hips, and looked down at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

"So... why don’t we do it now, Sim?" you teased, tracing the waistband of his boxers, the ones you’d put back on him earlier and deliberately grinding your hips against his.

Jake slid his fingers along your thighs with a firm grip, but he shook his head, warning you as he lightly nipped at your lower lip with one of his canines. He stared at you intently, and you pouted, staying firmly straddled over him as the thin fabric of your panties brushed against his scorching skin.

"Everyone’s asleep, Jake..." you murmured. "And I’d like to be your mate. I want you to understand that you... you’re everything to me. And this is also a way to show you that I’m yours, completely. Especially because you’ve been so patient with me, after everything that’s happened. I feel like I owe you this."

Your fingers resumed playing with the elastic waistband of his sweatpants, slipping just beneath it. Jake sighed, placing his hands on your hips to stop your provocative movements.

"You don’t owe me anything, Y/n. I acted that way with you because I wanted to, because I cared about you long before my wolf fully understood who you were. I don’t want to push you into anything you’re not ready for."

Instead of pulling back, you leaned even closer, brushing your lips against his. "I want you, Jake. I want to feel you, really feel you... and I want to be yours, completely."

Jake clenched his jaw, his wolf ears flattening backward in concentration as his pupils dilated. He finally gave in to your determination, but he decided to warn you one last time—this wasn’t a game, and he made sure you understood that. But instead of listening, you began covering his chest with hot kisses, moving upward across his pecs and pausing to nibble at the burning skin above his collarbone. Then you descended again, tracing the center line of his body with the tip of your tongue. Jake threw his head back against the pillow, letting out a small moan as his entire body fell under your control. When you reached the edge of his gray sweatpants, you stopped and looked up at him.

"Take off your pants, Sim..." you ordered.

Jake didn’t need to be told twice. He helped you, and when his black boxers came back into view, you murmured: "Take these off too."

Jake let out a laugh, shaking his head. "Look at you, all authoritative this morning... what happened to the shy girl who couldn’t stand me?" But with those words, he slid off his boxers, and his cock sprang upward already incredibly hard, slightly thick, and with the tip glistening with pre-cum in the dim morning light. At the sight, you reached out to wrap your fingers around him, eager to feel how hot he was. But Jake was faster. He grabbed your wrist, stopping you decisively.

"I need to prepare you, Y/n," he said, leaving no room for argument. "The knot is huge. If you want me to knot you without hurting you, you need to be fully stretched and 100% sure. No shortcuts."

At his words, you nodded. Jake gently took your shoulders, guiding you down until your head rested on the soft pillow. He positioned himself beside you, wrapping a strong arm around your waist and pulling you into a tight embrace. With his other hand, he slid beneath the waistband of your panties and, with two fingers, pushed them down your thighs. Without wasting a second, he positioned his muscular leg between yours, spreading you slightly. Then, he aligned the thick, burning tip of his cock directly against your lips.

You immediately felt him begin to rub against you with slow movements, reminding you just how big and hard he was. But he didn’t penetrate you yet, he used the head of his cock, sliding it from top to bottom, passing directly over your hypersensitive clit and then down, along the wet slit of your pussy, gathering your arousal and spreading it all over your intimacy.

"Ah... Jake..." you moaned, arching your hips toward him in a desperate attempt to seek full penetration. But Jake instantly leaned over your ear, grabbing your chin with his free hand to hold you still.

"Shh... be as quiet as possible, baby. There are no more fireworks or music to cover you up now. Jay, Sunghoon, and Ni-ki are in the room next door, and their hybrid hearing is just as sharp as mine. If you keep screaming like that, they’ll hear every single second of how I’m making you drip for me." He whispered against your lips.

You rolled your eyes. "D-don’t tell me you’re getting shy with your friends now..."

Jake wrinkled his nose in an expression between irritation and amusement, muttering against your shoulder: "Fuck... look at the absurd situation you’ve gotten me into. You make me lose my mind completely."

You tilted your head back, looking at him with a sly smile and sliding your fingers through his soft ears: "Admit it, Sim... you don’t mind it at all."

"Stop playing the bold one, sweetheart..." Jake chuckled against your neck as his cock continued to rub against your intimacy with disarming slowness. With an intentional movement, he slid his hand downward and used his thumb to apply light pressure directly to your clit. He immediately realized how swollen, sensitive, and reactive it already was. Your lips were abundantly wet and ready, perhaps still from the remnants of pleasure from a few hours earlier.

"Look at how you already are..." he teased, circling your clit with his thumb in small, ruthless circles. "You’re literally soaked, already ready and open for me, Y/n."

Instead of being embarrassed by his words, which were entirely true, you instinctively reached for him, capturing his lips and murmuring: "I want you, Jake... please, I want you now."

Jake looked at you with an amused yet completely shameless expression and said: "If you want me so badly, why don’t you show me? You don’t even need me to keep preparing you... look how ready you already are for me."

You opened your mouth to retort, but the words died in your throat when you felt that, with every rub, the thick tip of his cock was no longer just sliding on the outside, it was starting to push its way in, sinking deeper and deeper into your wet walls. You shifted slightly on top of him, planting your knees on either side of his muscular hips.

"Spread your legs a little, Sim..." you whispered.

Jake’s eyes widened slightly, and he stammered, completely caught off guard: "Y-you... you want to ride me?"

You lowered your gaze, feeling a wave of heat rise to your cheeks, and nodded shyly. Jake immediately brought both hands to his face, hiding behind his palms with a long groan that was half despair, half euphoria.

"Fuck... this is going to be the end of me," he muttered from behind his fingers, his cheeks burning. "They’re all going to hear us downstairs...I can feel it. Jay and Ni-ki will never let me live this down..."

You chuckled at his reaction, gripping his shoulders to keep your balance. You placed your palms on the lower part of his abdomen, where his abs sculpted down toward his groin. The sight of his rigid, veined cock, its glossy tip brushing against your pussy, made you tremble with pure anticipation.

"Can I... can I go?" you asked in a trembling voice.

Jake lowered his hands from his face and stared up at you with an incredulous look. "Are you... are you serious, sweetheart?"

No more words were needed. You answered with actions, lifting slightly onto your knees and guiding the head of his cock against your entrance. Then, slowly, you let yourself sink downward.

His huge cock began to penetrate you, sliding inside centimeter by centimeter, stretching and widening your walls until you were completely filled. The sensation of fullness was so intense and delicious that you couldn’t hold back a moan—it was so fucking different to feel him bare against you compared to when he was wrapped in a condom.

"Ah! J-Jake!"

Jake reacted in a flash, covering your mouth with an open hand, pressing his fingers gently against your lips to stifle your moan while his jaw clenched in an effort to keep control.

"Shh! I told you, be good!" he warned in a low, breathless voice, his eyes wide with panic. "Do you really want them to come up here and say good morning, or make fun of us for the next few years?"

You lightly bit the palm of his hand, moaning against his skin. "I-it’s too good... it’s impossible not to moan, Sim..."

Jake closed his eyes and threw his head back against the pillow, surrendering for a moment to the incredible sensation of your pussy fully enveloping him. He thought he might actually die right then partly from the fear that someone might be listening, but mostly because his inner wolf was in pure ecstasy, having you on top of him, completely impaled on his cock. When he reopened his eyes and noticed that your pajama top had ridden completely up, Jake didn’t want half-measures he wanted to see all of you.

"Put your arms up, baby," he ordered in a rough voice. Without pulling out even a millimeter of his cock from inside you, Jake leaned slightly forward and pulled your shirt over your head in one swift motion, leaving you completely naked from the waist up. At the sight of your full, exposed breasts, his heart skipped a beat, and he couldn’t hold back. His hybrid side trembled, and he thrust his hips upward forcefully, making you gasp as he sank even deeper inside you. He gripped the flesh of your hips firmly with both hands, looking up at you.

"Now you have to move, baby... because if I do everything from down here, I swear I’ll make you come in thirty seconds and knot you before you even realize what’s happening. Be good, baby, and set the pace...I know you can."

You nodded, planting your hands on his sculpted abs, and began slowly lifting and lowering yourself onto him. Every time you sank down fully, his thick, burning cock hit your G-spot perfectly, and small, uncontrollable moans escaped your lips at how incredible and huge he felt inside you.

Jake’s hybrid side was practically gloating at the sight of you so vulnerable, lost, and completely surrendered to the pleasure he was giving you. Unable to stay still any longer, he placed his large, warm hands on your ass, gripping you to pull you even closer. He began helping you, thrusting his hips upward with rhythmic, deep, and decisive movements every time you descended.

The sensation of having you riding him—hot, wet, and wrapped around him—drove him completely wild. He knew you were perfect for him, but he never could’ve imagined you’d be this incredibly sensual. To tease you even more, Jake lifted himself slightly and took one of your hardened nipples into his mouth, sucking and flicking it with his tongue. The sensation was pure paradise for your body, and your hands flew into his soft hair, tugging lightly as he was no longer lying down but half-sitting on the bed, penetrating you deeper with every thrust.

After a few minutes, Jake noticed your ragged breathing and the way your legs had begun to tremble with exhaustion. He realized you were tired.

"Are you getting tired, sweetheart?" he asked with immense tenderness, pausing for a moment and kissing your neck gently.

"Y-yes... it’s too much, Sim... I can’t keep going on top anymore," you admitted in a whisper.

Jake smiled at you with devotion and praised you: "You’ve been so good, my little one. Really amazing... you took such good care of me." He nuzzled and kissed your scent gland, which smelled of wild strawberries, before asking: "Can I lay you down and take you normally?"

"Please, Jake... yes," you begged without hesitation.

Without pulling out even a millimeter, Jake fluidly and carefully shifted you onto the mattress—the same bed where, just a few hours earlier, you’d made love for the first time. But this was different: you had seriously asked him to be completely his, without filters and without fear. Jake positioned himself above you, wedging his thighs between yours, and gave one deep, decisive thrust that made you see stars. Your hands clung tightly to his muscular shoulders and the rumpled sheets as your body welcomed him so pleasurably, and you cried out against his lips: "Jake! I’m coming..."

Jake continued thrusting with fervor, praising you with every movement. "Come for me, Y/n... you’re my mate. Let go completely... you’re perfect. Come for me and for your wolf." At his words, your vaginal walls contracted in a series of violent spasms, and you came with a muffled scream that Jake immediately captured by leaning in to kiss you passionately. He covered your face with kisses, murmuring how amazing you were. But then his body stiffened abruptly above you, and you felt the base of his cock begin to expand rapidly inside you, growing thicker and hotter until it locked you both together.

"Now comes the knot, sweetheart..." he warned with a trembling, rough voice, and you nodded without a hint of fear, pulling him close by the neck and kissing him with all the love you felt for him as his knot fully formed inside your body. You knew you were ready to give yourself completely. You felt the base of his shaft begin to swell, expanding with unstoppable force inside your vagina, and his knot stretched your walls. In the same instant the lock completed, binding you irrevocably together, Jake came, and an endless wave of scorching cum began flooding you, released in powerful, continuous pulses that filled every single millimeter of your vaginal canal. You felt so fulfilled in that moment, it was a simply fantastic, almost mystical and indescribable sensation. You never would’ve imagined in your entire life that you could feel this terrifyingly full of him, as if you were created to be his.

With every pulse of his knot and every adjusting thrust, you felt his liquid heat penetrate deeper and deeper, to the point where you could clearly see and feel your lower abdomen rise and swell slightly under the pressure of all that fluid. Jake, with one hand resting on your tense, swollen belly, continued to give small adjusting thrusts to push his seed even deeper, murmuring with a dark, instinct-driven voice: "Look how I’m filling you... this is just a preview, sweetheart. One day, this belly will be truly swollen, full of our pups."

At those words, another shockwave of pleasure spasms shot through your spine, making your thighs clench around his hips.

"J-Jake... oh my God... I... it’s too much... I feel..." you stammered, your mind completely blank, unable to form a coherent sentence as his huge cock penetrated you with surgical precision. The excessive amount of thick cum, mixed with your own now scorching and frothy vaginal fluids from the friction, was overstimulating both of you to unimaginable levels.

"S-Sim... it’s too big... it doesn’t fit..."

But at that point, Jake’s dominant hybrid nature took over completely, and the wolf inside him spoke with a voice filled with primal possession: "It fits perfectly... You’re my mate, my female. Your body was made exactly to take my knot and my seed."

With every involuntary movement of your hips or your vagina trying to readjust to the lock, both of you moaned loudly. The sensation of being physically and biologically bound together, unable to separate, drove you both wild. With one last, powerful pulse of his knot, Jake released the final scorching jet of cum. You felt his excess semen, no longer able to stay inside due to the extreme fullness, begin to overflow and slide hotly down the slit of your thighs, soaking the sheets beneath you. With ragged breaths and your heart pounding wildly against your ribs, Jake collapsed with his full weight on top of you. He buried his face between your neck and shoulder, licking your scent glands as his knot remained firmly locked inside you for the next twenty minutes. He leaned toward your lips and kissed you with infinite slowness and devotion.

"I love you, Y/n... I love you so much..." he murmured against your lips, his voice broken with emotion and the fulfillment of finally claiming his mate. With tears in your eyes from the incredible overstimulation, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close with all the strength you had left. With the most sincere and radiant smile in the world, you whispered against his lips: "I love you too, Jake... I’m yours. Happy New Year again, by the way!"

Jake lifted himself just a few centimeters, bringing a warm hand to caress your cheek, which was wet with tears of pleasure, and gently wiped it with his thumb. A radiant and slightly mischievous smile spread across his face: "Well... let’s just say I’m fucking glad I failed those damn history exams last year! Thanks to that cursed subject, I met you, sweetheart!"

You smiled shyly, reaching out to trace the contours of his face with the tip of your finger: the defined line of his jaw, the perfect bridge of his nose, and his cheekbones still flushed from what was happening. You responded gently: "If, as you said, every hybrid has to meet their mate sooner or later... and I’m yours... well, I think we would’ve met somehow, even in another way."

Jake nodded, resting his forehead against yours with a smile. "Yeah... it was already a crazy sign that we ended up in the same class, even though we seemingly had absolutely nothing in common. Not the university course, not our group of friends, and certainly not our personalities."

You nodded in return, feeling the warmth of his knot slowly beginning to subside and gently dissolve inside you, making way for a sense of total fulfillment. You closed your eyes slightly, enjoying the contact of his soft ears against your temples. "I think destiny would’ve made us meet in any other way, Sim. We were simply meant to be."

Jake nodded, rubbing his entire body against yours, which immediately turned into his unmistakable wolf purrs. He wrapped you completely in his arms, pulling you even closer to his bare chest and burying his face in your scented hair.

"Yeah... I think so too, sweetheart," he murmured with a hoarse and tired voice, sinking his teeth into a tiny, sweet love bite on your scent gland to mark you as his mate. "My wolf would’ve caught your scent from kilometers away. You never had a chance from the first moment... let’s just say you were destined to be my mate, and I your clingiest boyfriend in the world. And now that I’ve found you, I’m never letting you go."

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Dean had always pictured engineering students one way. Scrawny, sleep-deprived, and socially awkward. The kind of guys who wore the same hoodie four days in a row and argued with professors for fun.

So when Y/N mentioned she was meeting her project group almost every afternoon, he never thought twice about it.

“They’re all in my design group,” she’d say, scrolling through pages of CAD drawings on her laptop.

Dean would nod from the couch, one arm stretched across the backrest.

“Cool.”

“Ben reserved a study room.”

“Sounds good.”

“Emma’s bringing coffee.”

“Mhm.”

“Ryan thinks our calculations are wrong.”

“Tell Ryan he’s wrong.”

Y/N laughed, leaning over to kiss his cheek.

“I’ll let him know.”

That was that.

—

A week later, Dean had just finished practice when he decided to surprise her.

He bought her favorite coffee. Grabbed an extra muffin. Walked across campus with that easy confidence he always had.

He spotted her outside the engineering building before she spotted him. She stood in a loose circle with five other students.

Four guys.

One girl.

The girl was explaining something while waving a mechanical pencil around. One guy had safety goggles hanging around his neck. Another balanced a laptop under one arm. The third was tall, broad-shouldered, dark-haired… Dean slowed.

“…Huh.”

The last one laughed at something Y/N said and bumped her shoulder lightly.

She bumped him back.

Dean’s eyebrows pulled together.

That…

That wasn’t what he’d expected.

Not even close.

These weren’t the stereotypical engineering nerds he’d imagined.

They looked… normal. Athletic, even.

The tall guy honestly looked like he could’ve been on the basketball team. Dean immediately disliked him. Not for any real reason. Just on principle.

Y/N looked up then. Her face lit up.

“Dean!”

She jogged over, project calculations forgotten the second she reached him.

“You brought me coffee.”

“You forgot to text me back.”

“I was in lab.”

She took the coffee with a grin before looping her arm through his.

“Oh! Guys, this is Dean.”

Dean offered polite smiles as names were exchanged.

“Ben.”

“Ryan.”

“Noah.”

“Emma.”

“And Lucas.”

Lucas.

Right.

Tall Guy.

Dean shook his hand. Firmly.

Lucas smiled. “Nice to finally meet you.”

Finally?

Dean’s eyes flicked toward Y/N.

She noticed.

“Oh, I talk about you all the time.”

Dean relaxed a little.

“…Oh.”

Emma smirked.

“We know way more about hockey than we ever wanted to.”

The group laughed.

Dean laughed too.

But something had shifted.

—

After that he started noticing things he’d somehow missed before.

Her phone buzzed constantly.

Ryan: Can someone check the MATLAB file?

Emma: Meeting got moved to five.

Ben: Don’t forget the presentation boards.

Nothing weird.

Nothing inappropriate.

Just… frequent. Maybe even too frequent.

One evening they were making dinner together when Y/N looked over from the vegetables she was chopping.

“Hey?”

“Mhm?”

“Can you walk me to class tomorrow morning?”

Dean checked his schedule automatically.

“Damn.”

“What?”

“I’ve got early practice.”

“Oh.” She smiled anyway. “It’s okay.”

He hated the tiny flicker of disappointment she tried to hide.

“But…” he continued, “…practice ends around noon.”

She looked back up.

“I can pick you up after your afternoon lab.”

Her smile returned immediately.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“I’d love that.”

Dean leaned over the counter and stole a kiss.

“Done.”

—

The next afternoon, he parked outside the engineering building ten minutes early.

He figured he’d wait.

Maybe they’d grab dinner afterward.

Students poured out of the building in groups.

Then he saw her. Y/N emerged through the doors laughing with her project team. She wasn’t carrying anything. Because Lucas was. Balanced in his arms was a massive prototype made of aluminum and acrylic, easily the size of a microwave. Dean watched Lucas adjust his grip.

Y/N reached to take part of the weight.

“I’ve got it,” Lucas said.

“It’s heavy.”

“So?”

“I go to the gym.”

Dean was already out of the truck.

Y/N looked up.

“Dean!”

Lucas turned.

Dean walked over with an easy smile.

“Hey.”

He glanced at the project.

“Looks heavy.”

Lucas laughed.

“It weighs a ton.”

Dean held out his hands.

“I got it from here.”

Lucas hesitated for half a second before handing it over.

“Careful.”

Dean lifted it.

Definitely heavier than it looked.

“…Yeah,” he admitted. “You weren’t kidding.”

Y/N smiled up at him.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

He carried it all the way to the truck.

Lucas waved.

“See you tomorrow.”

“You too!” Y/N called.

Dean shut the tailgate a little harder than necessary.

—

He tried. God, he tried to be chill. He really did.

When she talked about her classmates, he listened. When she laughed at stories from the lab, he laughed too. When she complained about deadlines, he sympathized.

But then she’d casually say things like:

“Ben and I stayed until midnight fixing the code.”

Or

“Ryan walked me back to my dorm because it was raining. I called to let you know, remember?”

Or

“Emma says Lucas practically lives in the machine shop.”

And every single time something twisted in his chest.

He didn’t like it. He liked it even less because none of them had actually done anything wrong.

Dean lived outside of campus and if y/n waited for him to come pick her up it would have been 40 mins minimum. And Ryan not letting his girlfriend walk alone to her dorm was a solid reason, especially that they talked on the phone beforehand.

Or fixing a code. There was nothing wrong with that. It was just an assignment.

But it still bothered Dean. And he tried his best not to let it.

—

Finally, one Friday, Y/N looked over from her notes.

“We’re all studying in the library.”

Dean looked up.

“Oh?”

“You wanna come?”

He almost said no. Then he heard himself say, “Yeah.”

—

The engineering library was its own universe. Whiteboards covered in equations. Half-built robots sitting on tables. Students arguing over code like it was life or death.

Their group had taken over an entire study room. Dean squeezed in beside Y/N. For the first ten minutes, he understood approximately three words. Then the conversation somehow became even more confusing.

“No, your finite element analysis assumes…”

“It doesn’t if you redefine the boundary conditions.”

“That’s literally not how stress concentrations work.”

“It is if…”

Emma groaned dramatically. “You people are impossible.”

Everyone laughed. Y/N laughed hardest. Dean smiled politely. He had no idea why it was funny.

An hour later, Lucas leaned over Y/N’s shoulder to point at something on her screen. Not in a weird way. Just because they were looking at the same laptop.

Still…

Dean’s jaw tightened.

Ryan reached across her to erase part of the whiteboard. Ben tossed her a highlighter without looking.

Everything was so… comfortable. They had their own rhythm. Their own jokes. Their own language.

Dean suddenly understood what it felt like to be on the outside.

—

The walk to Y/n’s dorm was quiet. Y/N bumped his shoulder.

“You’re thinking.”

“A little.”

“What about?”

He exhaled through his nose.

“I owe you an apology.”

She frowned.

“For what?”

“I didn’t get it.”

“Get what?”

“When girls throw themselves at me after games.”

She stayed quiet.

“I always told you they didn’t matter and they don’t.”

“I know.”

He looked down at the sidewalk. “But… today I spent two hours watching four guys who are smart, funny, attractive…”

She opened her mouth.

“No, let me finish.”

He laughed softly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I spent years assuming engineering was full of awkward nerds.”

“It can be.”

“It is not your group.”

She smiled despite herself.

“They’re… annoyingly well-adjusted.”

Y/n smiled quietly and continued to listen.

“And they’re around you all the time.”

“Dean…”

“I know you love me.”

“I do.”

“I know they’d never disrespect our relationship.”

“They wouldn’t.”

“I know you’ve never given me a reason to doubt you.”

“I haven’t.”

He nodded.

“I know all of that.”

A beat passed.

“I’m still ridiculously jealous.”

Y/N stared at him for a second before breaking into a smile.

“Aww.”

He groaned.

“Don’t ‘aww’ me.”

She stepped closer until their hands brushed.

“You finally understand.”

It was similar to how y/n felt with all the girls circling around Dean at the start of their relationship. After a while she got used to it and continued to fully trust Dean. It’s not like she didn’t before, it was simply complicated to ignore their presence when those girls were part of Dean’s every day life.

“I really do.” Dean reached to hold y/n’s hand.

She laced her fingers with his.

“It sucks, doesn’t it?”

He laughed.

“It really, really does.”

She rested her head briefly against his shoulder.

“For what it’s worth…”

“Hm?”

“The guys all think you’re terrifying.”

Dean looked down at her.

“They do?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

She grinned.

“Lucas asked if it was okay to carry the prototype because he didn’t want you to think he was flirting with me.”

Dean blinked.

“He… what?”

“And Emma told him, ‘Relax, if Dean wanted to punch you, he would have done it a long time ago.’”

He snorted.

“Would I?”

She looked up at him with a teasing smile.

“Probably.”

He considered it.

“…Yeah.”

She laughed.

Then, before she could step away, Dean slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her close.

“You’re still walking out of engineering with me whenever I’m free.”

She smiled.

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

“Really?”

“Mhm.”

“Why?”

She leaned up just enough to kiss his cheek.

“Because no matter how smart those boys are…”

She smiled against his skin.

“You’re still my favorite person to come home to.”

And somehow, that made the knot in Dean’s chest loosen just enough to finally let him breathe.

It started out small. You had your phone camera propped up on the coffee table in front of you while Dean moved around your apartment, getting ready for practice. You hit record just a minute before he was about to leave and smiled warmly up at him when he leaned down to press a kiss to your head. It wasn't odd for you to be recording yourself, as you often did product reviews and gave updates on the team. So he didn't think anything of it until he slung his bag over his shoulder and opened the door. “Bye, baby, I love you,” he called from the doorway, waiting for your reply.

You forced a normal smile on your face when you called back, “bye, have a good practice!” The door was nearly shut before it swung open again.

“I will, love you,” he repeated, hand waiting impatiently on the door knob.

You bit back a laugh and turned your attention back to your laptop in front of you, pretending to be distracted with something else. “Okay, bye babe,” you kept your tone as casual as possible and didn't let him see your smile when you heard him huff at the door.

You heard his bag drop to the floor and looked up to see his eyebrows furrowed and his arms crossed over his chest. His bottom lip was slightly pouted out and you had to stop yourself from giving in just at the sight of him. “I said, I love you," he exasperated and threw his hands up dramatically.

“I heard you, Dean, and I told you to have a good practice,” you said in faux confusion and tilted your head at him, “why are you still here? You're gonna be late.”

“I don't care if I'm late,” he frowned and knelt down next to the arm of the couch so he could rest his chin on top of his hands there, “what's going on? You didn't say it back… are we okay?”

And really, you didn't have that much strength to begin with. So whatever resolve was left completely melted when you heard the concern in his voice and saw the worried look on his face. “Oh, baby,” you finally let out a laugh and reached for him, “it was just a prank video for the account. I love you, too, of course I do.”

The video cut off just before he tackled you to the couch. He didn't leave until you said ‘I love you’ more times than you could count and ended up making himself half an hour late to practice.

After how well the first video did and all of the ideas you were getting messages about, you decided to up your game. This time, you brought Garrett, Logan, and Tucker in too to avoid suspicion from Dean.

“Alright guys, you guys are each gonna try three milkshakes and see if you can guess the flavor. They're supposed to be really crazy specific flavors,” you explained, setting up the drinks in front of the camera.

Dean went first, both of you sat at the bar stools as he sipped the first milkshake. His eyes lit up at the taste and despite the entire video idea being fake, you did at least get a flavor you knew he’d love. “Oh my god, this tastes just like those cherry chocolates we get at Christmas,” he said and went back for another sip.

“Really? Here, let me try,” you held your hand out for him to pass you the cup. You did your best to keep your face serious as you used the bottom of your shirt to wipe the straw off before taking a sip of it.

Dean watched you with furrowed brows and hesitantly took the cup back when you offered it. He went through the same process with the next cup before handing it to you, “try this one, I think you’ll like it.”

You accepted the cup and wiped the straw again, ignoring his small scoff before sipping it. “I'm not sick, you know,” he said, confused.

“I know,” you shrugged and handed the cup back to him.

Before he handed you the last cup, he made a show of licking the entire straw and wrapping his lips as low around the straw as he could reach. You scrunched your nose and let out a small chuckle. “What are you doing? Don't be gross,” you snatched the cup from him but didn't get to wipe the straw before he was taking it back from you.

“Okay, enough!” He huffed and popped the lid off to get a mouthful of the milkshake before grabbing you to pull you into a kiss. He’d swallowed the milkshake, but you could still taste it on his lips and his tongue that was making sure to claim every inch of your mouth.

“Dean! What the hell?” You laughed, wiping the remnants of the milkshake from your lips.

He shrugged with a small smirk on his face and took another sip of the milkshake. “Just making sure you could taste it,” he said innocently before getting up for the next guy to film.

The last prank you managed was small, meant to be silly, but Dean was now always suspicious when you had your phone pointed at him or your camera filming in general.

So this time, you had your laptop open on the coffee table, pointed towards the two of you with your camera on and something covering the screen so he couldn't see the video. Your feet were in his lap and you had your phone in your hand while he leaned back with a xbox controller in his hands.

“Oh my god, babe, you're not gonna believe this,” you faked a gasp, keeping your phone in front of you.

He glanced over at you before back at the TV, “what? What happened?”

You bit your lip to hold back a laugh and nudged him with your foot. “I just found Tucker on Tinder! You have to see this, he went full Texas on his profile,” you said dramatically and pulled up the fake screenshot you'd made of a profile with Tuck’s photo.

“No way,” he gasped and hit pause on his game before turning to you, “let me see, let me see!” You handed your phone over and watched him grab it with excitement before his eyes landed on the Tinder logo and it all clicked slowly into place. “Wait a minute, you found this yourself? Why are you on Tinder? While you're sitting right next to me!”

Any of his anger or worry disappeared when you burst into a fit of giggles and he dropped your phone with a groan. “This is just getting mean,” he whined, grabbing your feet and tugging you closer to him.

His fingers found your sides and tickled relentlessly until you were out of breath and calling for a truce. “Okay, okay! No more pranks,” you laughed and swatted his hands away.

Dean skims his nose along the column on your neck, bracketing your ass with his hips. You hide a smile but wordlessly tilt your body into his, letting his hands wander down your shoulders and land possessively on your sides. You flip the pancake, ignoring him and teasing him all at once, and he groans. 

“Smells so good,” he murmurs, but he’s not talking about the batter; his mouth opens along where your jaw meets your throat as he inhales you. 

“D,” you chastise. "You specifically told me, and I quote, you ‘cannot go again without sustenance.’ I know you’re not lying because that’s a big word for you.” 

Dean lands a slap somewhere near the apex of your thighs in retribution for your mouth. Said lips part on a sound between a gasp and a moan, the spatula teetering just slightly towards the pan. 

“I should spank you with that instead,” he grumbles against your skin, nudging his head and therefore yours towards the utensil. 

Your soft laughs fill the room a moment later, him dotting kisses into your neck as you turn towards him as much as you can in his hold. The angle is a little awkward, especially with his height, but he greedily meets you in the middle with his tongue leading the way before the rest of him can catch up. 

You find just enough space to whisper, “Let me feed you first,” tacking on a whimpering “please” when he bites your lip to coax you open. You can’t be sure if the plea comes from truly wanting to take care of him before anything else, or from needing to be consumed by him again. 

One big, warm hand cups the back of your head to dive into you deeper, the other fumbling with the knobs on the stove before Dean deems pancakes ruined forever. He dexterously flicks everything off in one smooth motion, simultaneously pushing you further to the left and into the counter with his hips without letting anything dig (too) painfully into your lower back. 

Both of you would agree that just enough of a sting can be promised in other ways. 

You push up against him, remnants of flour finding his flushing cheeks, his tousled hair, his squeezing hands. They are everywhere on you and still not enough, gripping and shoving impatiently until you’re on your tip toes with your back facing him again, bent over the counter with your hands struggling to find purchase of the granite on either side of you. 

Dean slides his shirt up to the small of your back, revealing those little black panties he had sweetly dressed you back in earlier. He deftly pushes them to the side, grabbing ahold of your left wrist and using it as leverage between your bodies, before he enters you in one hard thrust. 

You flutter so tightly around him he momentarily sags against you with a grunt. With one wet kiss to the top of your spine, he pries your legs further apart with his own and returns to fucking you in a brutal pace, trapping you tightly between him and the mess on the countertop. 

You moan a mixture of his name and a prayer. It’s still not enough for him. 

Dean pulls out all of the way, slamming back into your heat. Your knees buckle at the force, and your right hand goes to find something, anything that will stabilize you against his power. 

You cry out suddenly, the still too hot cast iron branding your palm. It immediately is not a noise Dean recognizes from you, and he steadies his hips instantly, releasing your other hand to take hold of your waist protectively instead. 

“Hey,” he manages, panic rising in his voice when you hunch forward without another sound. “Baby, baby, baby. Talk to me. What happened?” 

You stutter out a tearful, “Oh no,” and Dean doesn’t hesitate to tuck himself back into the waistband of his athletic shorts and cover up your modesty. 

“C’mere, come on. Let me get a good look at you,” he murmurs, flattening his touch over every crevice of you until he pauses at your red-hot hand. He hisses at the contact. “Sweetheart.” 

He turns you fully to him, letting you clutch your injury into your chest even though every hockey instinct screams at him to take it for himself. 

“I got you,” he’s saying against the ringing in your ears. “I’ll fix this. Gonna fix you up, sweet girl.” 

With all of the confidence and calmness in his voice, his actions are decidedly not. He almost stumbles to the kitchen sink with you in his arms, fumbling with the faucet until his shaking fingers are pulling you under the lukewarm stream. He grits his teeth at the same time you do, as if you are fused as one and he can feel every bit of pain you do. 

Dean wraps a clean kitchen towel around your damp palm, continuously speaking to you in that low, soothing tone. He wraps one arm over your shoulders and presses firmly into your hand with the other, steering you towards the island. He releases you barely for a second (and he's counting) to carefully hoist you up with one hand, only placing you down once he has impatiently pushed everything else aside with a clang.

“I’m fine,” you’re trying to reason with him, but you’re doing a shit job with the big, sloppy tears that are threatening to spill down your cheeks. Dean thinks he might hear a hiccup, and that’s even worse, so no - of course he’s not going to stop until you’re actually fine.

“You poor thing, that must’ve been so scary,” he pacifies otherwise, slamming every door open and shut until he can find the first aid kit Tucker stored away so many years ago. 

“Dean,” you insist. “Really, I’m a big girl, it just - it just hurts a little - "

He hits the pantry door a little louder than the rest, tugging at his hair. “Where the fuck - did the kitchen-designated first aid kit - go - " 

He is clearly panicking, and a part of you would find that so damn endearing if you weren’t worried about him suffering a cardiac episode before you had a chance to heal your fingers. 

You say nothing, sniveling a little less at the sheer hilarity of the situation and big, bad, sometimes downright mean Dean thinking the sky is going to fall on his girl if he doesn't act quickly enough.

He returns from the downstairs bathroom a few moments later, a tube of cream and gauzes in his hand. He still fumbles his hold on you but a little less than before, taking a deep, calming breath that somehow does wonders for both of your nervous systems. 

With extra precaution, he unfurls the cloth from your hand and presses the sweetest of kisses against your unmarked wrist. Through his eyelashes, he peers up at you, settling himself slowly inbetween your bare legs.

"Everything's alright," he whispers. You fail to hide a smirk at knowing he's saying this more to himself than just to you. "All better now."

Dean doesn't even get to see the watery grin on your face because he's inspecting a thin layer of ointment with surgical precision. The burn is undoubtedly going to scab over, perhaps even scar, and he presses a defeated sigh into your soft tummy when he rests his forehead against you.

You thread your good fingers at the base of his hair, transferring every bit of comfort he provided you back into him.

"Baby," you breathe. "I'm okay now. Just shocked me, s'all."

"I hurt you," Dean muffles into his own shirt. "I'm so sorry."

Your incredulous giggle bounces off the walls and buries itself directly into his heart. He shifts so that his chin is resting on your thigh, practically with his knees to the floor now. He leaves open-mouthed kisses against every part of your leg, moving up and up until he's back to the curve of your hips. His hand cuffs loosely around your ankle like he's afraid you might bolt.

"You didn't hurt me," you promise, scratching your fingernails at the light stubble at his chin.

His response isn't an acknowledgement, but rather, "I fucking hate pancakes."

"We'll toss them all."

"...actually, no, I still need nutrients."

The sun carefully rose and brightened Dean’s room. The soft morning light brightened the room bringing the notice of the beginning of a new day. It’s not like Dean cared about the news the daylight brought. He cared about the girl who was sleeping in bed. The previous day still didn’t end for Dean; he still replayed the knock and y/n’s words in his mind. Whatever good news this new day was bringing with it didn’t matter if it wasn’t about y/n’s well-being. So Dean sat on his chair and let the rays of the sun brighten his room hoping they’d awaken y/n and he’ll find her healthy and steady.

The first thing Y/N noticed when she opened her eyes was the ceiling.

It wasn't hers.

For one disoriented second, she simply stared at it, her mind slow and heavy, trying to place the unfamiliar room around her. Gray walls. A dresser across from the bed. Hockey posters. A desk chair near the window.

Then panic hit.

Y/N jolted upright too quickly, breath catching in her throat. The room tilted sharply, and she pressed a hand to her forehead.

"What-"

Her other hand flew to the blanket, clutching it tightly against her chest. She looked down.

Her dress was still on.

Her shoes were gone, but she was clothed.

Completely clothed.

Relief crashed through her so suddenly it almost made her dizzy again.

A quiet voice came from the corner of the room.

"Hey. Easy."

Y/N's head snapped toward it.

Dean was sitting in the desk chair beside the bed, elbows resting on his knees. He looked awful. His dark shirt was wrinkled, his hair messy like he'd been running his hands through it all night, and there were shadows beneath his eyes that hadn't been there yesterday.

The second she saw him, everything came flooding back.

The party. The drink. The dizziness. The stairs.

His door.

Heat rushed to her face.

Dean noticed immediately. His expression tightened, but his voice stayed careful.

"Nothing happened."

Y/N swallowed.

"You came to my room, and you collapsed outside the door. I caught you before you hit your head." He looked away for a second, then back at her. "I put you on the bed, covered you up, and stayed here."

Y/N stared at him.

For once, there was no smirk. No teasing. No sarcastic edge.

Just exhaustion.

"I remember…" she whispered.

Silence settled between them.

Y/N looked down at the blanket still clenched in her hands. The panic from waking up slowly gave way to something heavier: embarrassment, confusion, and the lingering fog of last night.

Then she noticed the hoodie draped over the blanket.

It was black, oversized, and unmistakably his.

Her fingers brushed the sleeve. "Is this yours?"

Dean glanced at it and nodded once. "Yeah."

A memory flickered across his face before he added, quieter, "You were shivering."

Y/N's chest tightened.

"Oh."

Another silence.

Dean stood slowly, like he didn't want to startle her, and grabbed the water bottle from his desk. "Drink some water."

Y/N accepted it with slightly shaky hands.

"Thanks."

"You should sip it slowly."

She listened, taking a careful drink. Her throat felt dry, and the water helped clear some of the haze from her head.

When she lowered the bottle, she looked at him again.

"You look tired."

Dean huffed a small laugh. "I'm fine."

"Did you sleep?"

He shrugged, too casually. "Not really."

"Why?"

Dean looked at the floor for a second before answering. "Just wanted to make sure you were okay."

The words were simple. Almost careless. But the way he said them made Y/N believe he had been far more worried than he was admitting.

"You stayed in the chair all night?"

Dean leaned back against the desk. "The bed was occupied."

Y/N glanced at the neatly made side of the bed he clearly hadn't touched.

"You could've slept there," she said softly.

"And wake you up every time I moved?" Dean shook his head. "You needed space."

That hurt more than it should have.

Not because of anything cruel.

Because Dean Di Laurentis, who usually filled every room with noise and arrogance, had chosen the chair so she would feel safe.

Y/N looked down at the water bottle. "I'm sorry."

Dean frowned. "For what?"

"For worrying you."

His expression changed immediately, like the apology caught him off guard.

"You don't apologize for that."

"I still worried you."

Dean let out a quiet breath. "Yeah. Well. Don't do it again."

The attempt at casualness almost made her smile.

Almost.

Y/N shifted, and the room tilted slightly. Dean moved toward her instinctively, one hand half-reaching out before stopping himself.

"You okay?"

"Just dizzy."

"Then don't stand up yet."

"I wasn't going to."

Dean nodded once, then stepped back, giving her space again.

Y/N studied him carefully. He looked different this morning. Softer around the edges. Less certain of himself.

And suddenly, the insults from last night felt strangely distant. Not erased. Not forgiven. Just... smaller compared to the realization that someone had drugged her drink.

A shiver ran through her.

Dean noticed immediately. "Hey."

She looked up.

"You're safe now."

The words settled somewhere deep in her chest.

Y/N swallowed. "I remember some of it."

Dean's jaw tightened. "What do you remember?"

"The kitchen with drinks. Feeling dizzy. The stairs." Her voice dropped. "Your door."

Dean didn't speak.

Dean looked at her carefully. "You were scared."

Y/N looked away. "I knew you wouldn't hurt me."

Dean was silent for a long moment.

Then he said, very carefully, "I'm glad you came here."

Y/N didn't know what to do with that. Both of them remembered the exact words from yesterday: “I know you hate me enough not to try anything.” And the words just lingered around the room, making every interaction more heavy and intense than it should be. Every word seemed to reference last night’s events and it seemed to bother both of them.

Dean cleared his throat. "I can take you home."

"You don't have to."

"I know."

"I’ll call someone."

Dean's mouth tightened. "You can. But I'm still taking you home."

Y/N blinked. "Dean..”

"You're still dizzy."

"I'll be fine."

"Maybe." He crossed his arms lightly, though there was no arrogance in it. "I'd rather not risk it."

Y/N hesitated.

Part of her wanted to refuse out of principle.

Another part remembered the stairs, the dizziness, and the fact that Dean had stayed awake all night to make sure she was okay.

Finally, she sighed. "Fine."

Dean nodded once, almost relieved. "Good."

"But I'm not letting you make a big deal out of it."

"I never make a big deal out of anything."

Y/N raised an eyebrow.

Dean looked offended. "Okay, rude."

For the first time that morning, a tiny smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

Dean noticed.

And for one brief second, despite the exhaustion and the guilt and everything hanging awkwardly between them, the room felt a little less heavy.

—

As they headed outside Dean stopped mid tracks and ran back to his room.

Y/n stopped mid walk and started at the direction Dean went. Confusion was written all around her face.

Seconds later Dean returned with another hoodie in his hands.

He held the hoodie out toward her.

“Wear it.”

She blinked.

“…Dean.”

“It’s freezing.”

“I’ll be fine.”

He looked at her for exactly two seconds before raising an eyebrow.

“You’re literally shivering and we haven’t left the house yet.”

“I’ll manage.”

“Poorly.”

She opened her mouth to argue.

Dean took one small step closer and gently nudged the hoodie into her hands.

“It’s just until you get home.”

She looked between him and the sweatshirt.

A reluctant smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

“You really don’t give up, do you?”

“No.”

“Noted.”

She slipped the oversized hoodie over her head.

The sleeves swallowed her hands almost completely. The hem reached halfway down her thighs, covering most of the elegant dress beneath it.

Dean looked at her for a second. Then another.

Y/N narrowed her eyes.

“…What?”

He pressed his lips together.

“I’m deciding.”

“About?”

“If that’s the strangest outfit I’ve ever seen.”

She looked down.

The elegant emerald dress peeked out beneath the oversized black hoodie.

She sighed dramatically.

“I look ridiculous.”

Dean’s shoulders shook with a quiet laugh.

“…A little.”

She pointed at him.

“I knew it.”

“But…” His smile softened. “It works.”

She rolled her eyes.

“You’re impossible.”

“So I’ve been told.”

—

The morning air carried the kind of chill that only existed just after sunrise.

The campus looked almost unfamiliar without the usual crowds. Sidewalks that had been packed only hours earlier now sat nearly empty, scattered with a few students heading home after long nights and the occasional jogger making an early start.

Dean shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans as they stepped out of the apartment building.

Y/N wrapped her arms around herself instinctively, thankful she had Dean’s hoodie on.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

The quiet wasn’t uncomfortable. It simply felt… new.

Birds chirped somewhere overhead. The breeze rustled through rows of trees lining the sidewalk. Dean glanced toward her every few moments without meaning to.

She looked tired. Not exhausted. Just quieter than usual.

After several minutes, he broke the silence.

“Do you remember much from last night?”

Y/N looked ahead.

“Bits and pieces.”

She frowned thoughtfully.

“I remember feeling fine.”

Then she stopped herself. Dean slowed his pace to match hers.

“What is it?”

She shook her head.

“I keep trying to remember everything exactly.”

Her eyebrows pinched together.

“And every time I think I’ve got it…” Her voice trailed off. “…it slips away.”

Dean nodded once.

“You don’t have to figure it out today.”

“I know. It’s just that damn party…” She looked down at the sidewalk. “I just…” A sigh escaped her. “I keep thinking maybe I should’ve paid more attention.”

Dean frowned.

“To what?”

“My drink, to whoever was around me...” She gave a humorless little laugh. “I probably should’ve kept a closer eye on it.”

Dean stopped walking. Completely.

Y/N turned toward him. “What?”

His expression had hardened. “No.”

She blinked.

“No?”

“You don’t get to blame yourself.”

“I wasn’t…”

“You were.”

His voice stayed calm.

“It should’ve been a place where you didn’t have to think about that.”

She stared at him.

Dean continued more quietly.

“If somebody acts like an idiot…” He shook his head. “That’s on them.”

“Dean…”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

The certainty in his voice left no room for argument.

Y/N looked away.

For some reason, hearing him say it made something inside her loosen. She hadn’t realized she’d been carrying that thought around since waking up.

“…Thanks.”

Dean simply nodded.

They resumed walking.

After another minute, Y/N drifted back into her thoughts. Her eyebrows knitted together. Almost unconsciously, the nail of her thumb found the side of her index finger.

She began picking at the skin. A habit she’d had since high school. She didn’t even notice she was doing it.

Dean did.

He watched her for several seconds.

Then, without really thinking he reached over. His fingers gently wrapped around her hand. Stopping hers completely.

“…Don’t.”

Y/N froze.

Dean froze.

Both of them looked down.

Dean’s hand covered hers completely.

Warm.

Steady.

For one very awkward second, neither of them moved. Dean’s brain finally caught up with what he’d done.

Why did he…?

He almost let go.

Instead, he cleared his throat.

“You’ll make it bleed.”

His explanation sounded surprisingly reasonable.

Y/N looked at their hands again.

“…I always do that when I’m nervous.”

“I noticed.”

“You noticed?”

“You’ve done it before.”

She hadn’t realized. Neither had he. A tiny silence settled between them. Dean was still holding her hand.

He really should let go.

Probably.

Instead…

His thumb brushed lightly across the back of her hand. Almost absentmindedly.

“You don’t have to figure everything out today,” he said quietly. “You’ve got time.”

She looked at him. Something about his expression had changed. The usual confidence wasn’t there. Just sincerity. She felt herself relax a little.

“…Okay.”

Neither of them mentioned their hands. Neither of them pulled away. Eventually they started walking again. Still side by side. Still hand in hand.

It somehow felt… natural. As if letting go would be stranger than continuing. Thankfully, the conversation drifted somewhere much lighter.

Dean glanced sideways.

“So.”

“So?”

“I learned something.”

“Oh?”

“You apparently judge people’s hoodies.”

“I judge everyone’s hoodies.”

He looked offended.

“This one’s high quality.”

“It’s three sizes too big.”

“That’s the point.”

“It makes me look like I got dressed in the dark.”

He grinned.

“You kind of did.”

She laughed.

A real laugh this time.

Dean smiled without realizing it.

“There it is.”

“What?”

“You laughed.”

She bumped his shoulder lightly.

“You are unbelievable.”

“I’ve also been told that.”

“You’ve been told a lot of things.”

“Most of them are true.”

“I’m sure.”

By the time they reached her apartment building, the walk had felt far shorter than either of them expected.

Dean slowed to a stop.

“…Well.”

“Well.”

For a moment, neither moved.

Y/N looked down at the oversized hoodie.

“I’ll wash it.”

Dean looked at her.

“And I’ll bring it back.” She added.

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“You don’t have to rush.”

She smiled too.

“I wasn’t planning on stealing it.”

“I wasn’t accusing you.”

“You were thinking it.”

“I wasn’t.”

“You absolutely were.”

Dean laughed.

“I guess now I’ll have to see you again.” The words slipped out before he could stop them.

For a heartbeat, both of them went quiet.

Y/N’s smile softened. “I guess you will.”

She reached for the apartment door. Before stepping inside, she looked back.

“…Thanks.”

This time she wasn’t talking about the hoodie.

Dean understood anyway.

He gave a small nod.

“Get some rest.”

“I will.”

She disappeared inside the building.

Dean stood there for another few seconds, staring at the closed door.

The walk had taken maybe twenty minutes.

It hadn’t been nearly long enough.

Eventually, he turned toward campus.

His hands instinctively slid into the pockets of his jeans.

One pocket felt strangely empty.

Then he remembered.

His hoodie.

A small smile spread across his face.

He’d be getting it back eventually.

And, for the first time in a long while, he found himself looking forward to the excuse.

The music could be heard from half a block away. The hockey house was already overflowing by the time Hannah and Y/N arrived, laughter spilling out the open front door along with the bass that rattled the porch railings. People crowded every room, cups clinked together, someone was yelling about beer pong in the kitchen, and the living room had already turned into a sea of strangers dancing shoulder to shoulder.

Hannah sighed dramatically, "I swear they invite the entire campus."

"They probably do," Y/N replied, smoothing an imaginary wrinkle from her dress.

She hadn't wanted to come. Not because she disliked parties. Because Dean Di Laurentis would be here. And Dean Di Laurentis possessed an almost supernatural ability to ruin perfectly good evenings.

Hannah nudged her shoulder. "Relax."

"I am relaxed."

"You've been glaring at the front door for thirty seconds."

"I'm mentally preparing."

"For Dean?"

Y/N rolled her eyes. "I'm mentally preparing for his ego."

Hannah laughed as they stepped inside.

Almost immediately, someone called Hannah's name from across the room. It was Garrett. He was standing near the kitchen island, waving her over with an easy grin.

"Go," Y/N said.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, girl, go talk to your boyfriend. I'm not going to spontaneously combust because you're talking to your boyfriend."

"You might if Dean starts talking."

"I'll survive."

"I sure hope you do."

Y/N shoved her lightly.

"Go."

Hannah laughed and disappeared into the crowd.

Y/N made her way toward the drink table, weaving through clusters of people she vaguely recognized from campus. She could feel eyes on her. Not in an uncomfortable way. Just... noticing.

She'd spent longer getting ready than she wanted to admit. Her hair fell in soft waves over one shoulder, and the dark emerald dress she wore hugged her just enough to make her feel confident without trying too hard. It was simple. Elegant and comfortable.

"You look hot," Hannah had declared.

"I look dressed."

"You look hot."

"I look like someone attending a party."

"You look like Dean's going to choke on his own tongue."

Y/N had snorted. "As if Dean Di Laurentis has ever been speechless in his life."

Apparently... Tonight might've been close. Across the room, Dean had been halfway through a conversation with one of his teammates when Logan abruptly stopped listening.

"Dude."

Dean barely looked at him.

"What?"

Logan nodded toward the front hall.

Dean followed his gaze and forgot what he'd been about to say.

"...Oh."

Logan smirked.

"Oh?"

Dean recovered almost instantly.

"So?"

"So…?" Logan echoed.

Dean shrugged.

"She cleans up okay."

Logan barked out a laugh. "Cleans up okay?"

"Yeah."

"You've been staring for like fifteen seconds."

"I absolutely have not."

"You absolutely have."

Dean tore his eyes away.

"I was observing."

Logan’s grin widened.

"Observing."

"Shut up."

He grabbed his drink and headed toward the kitchen before Logan could say anything else.

It was a coincidence. Entirely a coincidence that Y/N reached the drink table at the exact same time. She noticed him immediately. Of course she did. Dean Di Laurentis stood out in any room he walked into, whether she liked it or not. He leaned casually against the counter in a dark shirt with the sleeves rolled to his forearms, laughing at something one of the hockey guys said.

Then his eyes landed on her. The laughter stopped. For just a second. His gaze traveled from her heels... To the dress... To her face.

There was the briefest flicker of something she couldn't quite read. It disappeared so quickly she wondered if she'd imagined it.

Then the familiar smirk returned. "There she is."

Y/N sighed. "Hello to you too."

"I almost didn't recognize you."

"No?"

"Nah."

He tilted his head.

"Didn't think you owned anything that wasn't a sweater."

She smiled sweetly.

"And I didn't think you owned a shirt with sleeves."

A couple of people nearby chuckled.

Dean nodded once.

"Fair."

Y/N reached for a cup. "I'll cherish the compliment."

"I wasn't complimenting you."

"I know." She looked at him over the rim of the cup. "That would've been very out of character."

Dean laughed quietly. "You really think you're funny."

"I know I am."

"Hm."

He folded his arms.

"I think the dress is trying a little too hard."

The words landed harder than either of them expected. Y/N's smile faltered. Only for a heartbeat. She recovered so quickly that most people wouldn't have noticed.

Dean did.

"So does your personality," she replied evenly.

He smiled again.

"If I wanted my personality judged, I'd have dated an English major."

She stared at him.

"You know, for someone who's supposed to be good with teamwork, you're remarkably insufferable."

"And yet," Dean said with a shrug, "people still invite me places."

"So do people invite me."

He looked around theatrically.

"Really? I assumed Hannah brought you as emotional support."

There it was. The one that actually stung. Y/N's fingers tightened around her cup. She and Hannah had been inseparable since freshman year, and Dean knew it. He knew exactly which remarks would hit where they hurt.

She forced a laugh. "Don't flatter yourself."

"I'm not."

"You've clearly spent all week thinking of that one."

Dean smiled lazily. "Took me about three seconds."

"Must've been exhausting."

He stepped just a little closer.

"Not nearly as exhausting as pretending you're above everyone in this room."

Her eyebrows lifted. "I don't pretend. I just have standards."

Someone behind Dean let out an audible, "Damn."

Dean chuckled.

"There she is."

"What?"

"The real you. The one that thinks she's smarter than everyone."

Y/N held his gaze.

"I don't think I'm smarter than everyone."

"No?"

She smiled.

"Just you."

The surrounding group burst into laughter.

Dean's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. He laughed too. But this time it didn't quite reach his eyes.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The air between them felt strangely charged. Like the room had grown quieter despite the music still shaking the walls. Dean looked at her again. Really looked. The dress. The way she'd done her hair. The confidence she'd walked in with. She looked... beautiful. Annoyingly, unfairly beautiful. Which irritated him more than it should have.

So instead of saying the one thing that had unexpectedly crossed his mind: You look nice, He smiled that infuriating smile and said, "You know..." His voice was light. Almost conversational. "I guess if you were trying to distract everyone from your personality..." His eyes flicked down her dress once before meeting hers again. "...it almost worked.”

Silence.

This time, she couldn't hide it: the hurt. Dean continued, “I just wish Hannah wouldn’t bring you along; it’s just a waste of space, you know. And it’s not like you’re gonna have fun,” he scoffed, “as if anyone would go for that,” he eyed her down, “I sure wouldn’t, and you know damn well I’m all over gorgeous girls all the time.”

The hurt flashed across her face before she buried it beneath a practiced smile. As much confidence as she carried, some words did take her back to high school, where everyone would just shatter and break her heart all around.

"So that's your best one tonight?" she asked quietly. "I expected more."

She stepped around him before he could answer. "Enjoy your party, Di Laurentis."

She walked away without looking back. Dean watched her disappear into the crowd.

Logan appeared beside him a second later. "What the hell was that?"

Dean didn't answer. Logan looked toward where Y/N had gone. Then back at Dean.

"You know..." he said slowly, "I think you just can’t take your eyes off that dress.”

Dean frowned.

"What?"

Logan shook his head. "You looked at her like you forgot how to breathe. And then you immediately acted like an ass."

Dean scoffed.

"I always act like an ass."

Logan smirked, "Yeah, but usually it's because you think someone's annoying."

He looked toward the crowd where Y/N had disappeared.

"This time..." Logan clapped him on the shoulder. "I think it's because you're in trouble."

—

To forget the snarky comment, Y/n went in for a drink. Of course she looked gorgeous: her hair, her dress… everything was just breathtaking, but Dean’s words awakened some hidden insecurity that was resurfacing from high school.

Y/n was making her way to Hannah to ask her to leave the party, but she saw her and Garrett walk upstairs to Garrett’s room.

Shit…

What kind of friend would she be if she interrupted their special time? She needed her friend’s support, but not at the cost of inconveniencing her. So she sighed and went back for yet another drink. There was no point in going home alone and suffocating in bed with resurfacing bitter memories. Y/n chose to drown those with more alcohol.

Y/N lasted exactly twenty-three minutes before she needed another drink.

Not because she'd had that much to drink. Because she needed something to do with her hands. Something to wash away the lingering sting of Dean's words.

She slipped into the kitchen, grateful to find it momentarily less crowded than the living room. She reached for a clean plastic cup. Ice. Lemonade. A splash of vodka.

She stared down into the drink for a second, hoping it’ll help to stop thinking. Dean Di Laurentis had spent the better part of two years insulting her. She should've been immune by now.

So why had that one landed?

She let out a slow breath. Because this one remark hadn't been clever. It hadn't even been funny.

It had just been... Mean.

Then her racing thoughts were interrupted by a stupid comment: "You look like you're making a chemistry experiment."

She closed her eyes. Of course.

Without turning around, she said flatly, “Don't you have girls waiting in line for your attention?"

Dean walked up beside her anyway, grabbing an empty cup. "They'll survive."

He poured himself a drink, leaning casually against the counter.

Silence settled between them. It felt... different this time. Less like a game.

Y/N focused on dropping ice into her cup. Dean watched her from the corner of his eye.

She hadn't looked at him once. Not after earlier.

For reasons he couldn't explain, that bothered him.

"You know," he said, swirling his drink, "Logan thinks I was too hard on you."

She gave a small shrug.

"Good for Logan."

"So you're not gonna defend yourself?"

"I've learned it's usually a waste of energy."

That wasn't the answer he'd expected. He frowned.

"What?"

She finally looked at him. Her smile was polite. Almost painfully so.

"You've already decided who I am." Her voice was calm. "So why bother changing your mind?"

Dean looked away first. Something about that answer sat wrong. He covered it the only way he knew how.

"You know what your problem is?"

She sighed.

"Please. Enlighten me."

"You walk around acting like you're too good for everyone."

A tiny laugh escaped her.

"No."

"No?"

"I walk around trying not to care what people think."

He scoffed.

"That's adorable."

"It works most days."

"Clearly not tonight."

The words slipped out before he could stop them.

He saw it immediately. The way her shoulders stiffened. The tiny inhale she took.

He should've left it there. Instead….

"I mean..." he said lightly, "you spent all that time getting dressed up." His eyes drifted over her outfit again. "And for what?"

She said nothing. Dean smiled, though it felt forced now.

"You really thought tonight was going to be different?"

The kitchen suddenly felt very quiet.

"You thought someone was finally going to notice you?" He laughed once. “I hate to break it to you..." His voice dropped just enough to make every word sharper. "But people are looking because they don't recognize you." He held her gaze. "Not because they're interested."

For a long moment, Y/N didn't move. Dean waited for the comeback.

She always had one. Always.

Instead she looked down into her cup. "Are you done?" Her voice was so quiet that it almost didn't sound like her.

Dean blinked. "What?"

"I asked..." She swallowed. "...if you're done."

He opened his mouth. Nothing came out.

She gave one small nod, as though answering herself.

"Okay."

No sarcastic remark. No eye roll. No smug smile. She simply picked up her drink.

"I hope, one day," she said softly, "someone speaks to you the way you speak to other people."

Dean's chest tightened. She looked at him one last time. Not angry. Not even upset. Just disappointed. Then she turned and walked away. Dean watched her disappear into the hallway. For some reason, he felt awful.

Y/n was so consumed in her thoughts and a need to get away that she shoved through a crowded hallway just to get outside. She didn’t even notice the small splash... a splash that was made when someone dropped something into her drink.

Some guy tossed a pill into her cup with an easy flick of his wrist. It landed with a tiny splash before sinking beneath the ice.

"There." He snorted. "Let's see how long it takes…"

A couple of people laughed.

Y/n was already outside, sitting on an empty chair she found. Still replaying Dean's words in her head, she wrapped her fingers around the cup.

Y/N looked down at the cup for only a second. Then, she took a sip of the drink and then another one, unaware of what happened nearly thirty seconds ago.

—

Dean had never hidden from one of his own parties. Usually, he was the reason they stayed alive. If the music got louder, it was because Dean wanted it louder. If another game started in the kitchen, it was because Dean had convinced everyone to play. If people were laughing, chances were he was somewhere in the middle of it. He thrived in rooms like this. Crowded. Loud. Chaotic. Easy.

Tonight everything felt just a little off. He wandered back into the living room, weaving through people who greeted him with pats on the shoulder and shouted greetings over the music.

"Dean!" Someone shoved a red cup into his hand. He accepted it automatically.

Another guy pulled him into a conversation about next week's game. Dean answered. Mostly he just nodded in the right places, made the occasional sarcastic comment, and even laughed once.

But his attention kept drifting. His eyes searched the room without meaning to. Not looking for anyone in particular. Just... looking.

He caught himself glancing toward the hallway. Then toward the kitchen. Then the staircase. His eyebrows pulled together. What was he doing? He took a long drink instead.

"Dean." A familiar voice.

He turned. A blonde girl smiled up at him, already standing much closer than necessary.

"I've been trying to find you."

"Have you?"

"Mhm."

She reached up, smoothing an imaginary wrinkle from the front of his shirt.

"I thought maybe you disappeared."

Dean looked down at her hand.

Then back up.

"Huh."

She laughed.

"I was wondering if you wanted to dance."

Normally? He would've said yes without thinking.

She was pretty and confident. Exactly the kind of girl who usually made parties more interesting.

Instead his answer caught in his throat. "I..."

For some reason, the image that popped into his head wasn't the blonde standing in front of him.

It was emerald green, the color of Y/n’s dress.

A quiet voice that never seemed to leave his thoughts got louder, “I hope, one day, someone speaks to you the way you speak to other people.”

He blinked. "Maybe later."

The girl looked surprised.

"Oh." She recovered quickly. "Okay."

She disappeared back into the crowd.

Dean watched her go.

That was… weird.

He took another sip.

Someone cranked the music even louder. The living room erupted into cheers. Someone started chanting his name from across the room. Usually, he'd be over there already. Instead, he stayed exactly where he was.

"Dean!" Another voice.

This time, a brunette. She slipped easily into his space, smiling like they'd known each other forever.

"You owe me a rematch in pong."

"Do I?"

"You destroyed me last weekend."

"I probably did."

She laughed, looping an arm through his.

"You sound thrilled to see me."

Dean looked at her.

She was gorgeous. Dark hair. Bright smile.

One of the girls who always seemed to show up whenever there was a hockey party.

She squeezed his arm playfully.

"So?"

"So?"

"The rematch."

Dean looked toward the dining room where everyone was gathered around the table.

Then looked back at her.

"I think I'll pass."

Her smile faltered.

"You... don't want to play beer pong?"

"Not really."

She laughed like he was joking. When he didn't laugh back, she slowly let go of his arm.

"Okay..."

She walked away looking thoroughly confused.

Dean was, too.

What the hell?

He never turned down beer pong.

He frowned into his cup. Something was wrong with him. He wandered onto the back deck. Fresh air. That would help. Except it didn't.

He saw Y/n. After the past two encounters, he didn’t feel like going at it again. He couldn’t even ignore her and go on about his day and enjoy the party.

He wandered back inside, weaving through strangers who moved aside automatically when they recognized him.

Someone called after him. "Dean! Take a shot!"

He waved without looking.

Another voice.

"Dean, come dance!"

He ignored it.

A hand caught his wrist.

He turned. Another girl. She smiled brightly.

"You've been avoiding me all night."

"Sorry."

She stepped closer. "You can make it up to me."

Usually, he'd flirt back. Usually, this part was effortless. She reached up, fingers brushing lightly over the back of his neck. Dean felt... nothing.

Not even annoyance.

Just... Nothing.

"I'm actually heading upstairs."

Her smile slipped.

"Oh."

He gently untangled her hand from his arm before continuing toward the staircase.

Halfway up, he stopped.

He looked down.

The entire house stretched beneath him.

Music. Laughter. People dancing. Friends shouting across rooms. Girls smiling at him every time he looked their way. It was everything he'd always enjoyed. Everything that had always been enough.

Tonight it wasn't.

He ran a hand through his hair. "What the hell..." The words came out barely above a whisper. No answer came.

He climbed the rest of the stairs. His bedroom door clicked shut behind him, muffling the music until it became nothing more than a dull pulse through the walls.

Silence.

Dean leaned back against the door.

He stared at the ceiling for a long moment. Then laughed once. A humorless sound.

"If anyone ever finds out I'm hiding in my room during my own party..." He shook his head. "They'll never let me live it down."

He tossed his phone onto the bed before sitting beside it. For the first time in years, the party downstairs held absolutely no appeal.

He couldn't explain it. Couldn't fix it. Couldn't even name it.

All he knew was that every laugh downstairs sounded too far away. And every time he closed his eyes, he saw a pair of hurt eyes and heard a quiet voice asking, "Are you done?"

—

Outside, the party only seemed to get louder.

Someone had turned the music up again. Cheers erupted from the living room, followed by the unmistakable crash of something breaking and a chorus of laughter that suggested nobody particularly cared.

Y/N stood in the middle of it all.

She couldn't hear herself think.

At first, she assumed it was the music.

Then she realized the room itself had started to move.

She frowned.

The people around her blurred together for half a second before snapping back into focus.

"Weird." She blinked hard.

Maybe she'd stood up too fast.

She lifted her cup to take another sip, but stopped halfway. Her stomach rolled unpleasantly.

No.

Something wasn't right. She lowered the cup.

The bass thudded through the floor beneath her feet, each vibration making the dizziness worse.

Someone bumped her shoulder as they squeezed past.

Normally, she would've stumbled a step and laughed it off. Instead, her knees almost gave out. She caught herself on the edge of a nearby table.

"Oh..." A whisper .Barely audible. "...Oh, no."

Another wave hit. The room tilted sharply to the left before correcting itself.

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut.

Okay.

Okay, breathe.

When she opened them again, the crowd seemed even bigger somehow.

Too many people.

Too much noise.

Too little air.

Her fingers tightened around the plastic cup until it crumpled.

"Oh, shit."

Her voice trembled.

"Oh, shit..."

She looked down at the drink in her hand.

Without another thought, she walked to the nearest trash can and dumped the rest of it out before tossing the cup after it.

She needed Hannah.

That thought came immediately.

Hannah.

She'd know what to do.

Y/N turned toward the hallway.

Then remembered.

Garrett had quietly stolen Hannah away almost twenty minutes ago.

Garrett had simply grinned, taken Hannah's hand, and led her upstairs.

Privacy.

Right.

Y/N swallowed.

She couldn't exactly burst into Garrett's room.

Absolutely not.

Her breathing grew uneven.

The hallway stretched farther than she remembered.

Another wave of dizziness crashed over her so suddenly she reached for the wall. Her palm slapped against it. Her fingers trembled against the old drywall.

Think.

Who else?

Her parents? No way, she was far away in college, what would her parents even do? Fuck.

An ambulance?

No.

That sounded more stupid. Who calls an ambulance to a party?

No, no...

She wasn't even sure what was wrong.

She just... She just needed someone.

Someone she knew.

Her thoughts landed on a name she never would've expected.

Dean.

She almost laughed.

It would've been funny under different circumstances.

Dean Di Laurentis.

The same Dean who'd spent the entire evening trying to make her miserable. The same Dean who'd looked her dead in the eye and told her no one would ever be interested in her.

She hated him.

He was an ass.

Cocky.

Infuriating.

Meaner than he realized.

But...

He would never hurt her in a way bunch of guys in this party would if they found her in this state.

Her drink has been spiked, she thought, and whoever it was was bound to show up sooner or later. She needed to get away.

She knew that with complete certainty.

Her feet were already moving.

The staircase looked impossibly steep. By the third step, her legs felt strangely disconnected from the rest of her body.

Come on.

One more.

She gripped the railing so tightly her knuckles turned white. The music downstairs faded with every step upward, replaced by the pounding of her own heartbeat.

Halfway up, her vision blurred again. She stopped. The stairs shifted beneath her.

"No..."

She squeezed the railing harder.

"You are not passing out." As if scolding herself would be any help.

Another breath.

Another step.

Then another.

By the time she reached the second floor, she was breathing like she'd run a marathon.

Dean's door.

End of the hallway.

So close.

She took one step. Then another.

Her foot caught slightly against the carpet.

She stumbled, catching herself against the wall.

The hallway spun. "Oh, God..."

Everything suddenly felt so far away.

She finally reached Dean's door, raised her hand and knocked.

—

Inside, Dean didn't move.

He stared absently at the ceiling from where he sat on the edge of his bed.

The music downstairs had become little more than a dull vibration through the walls.

A knock sounded.

Dean sighed.

Without getting up, he called toward the door.

"Occupied."

Silence.

Good.

Probably another couple looking for somewhere quiet.

Not happening.

He leaned back against the headboard again.

Another knock.

More insistent this time.

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I said go away."

Nothing.

Then…. a heavy thud. Like something, or someone had fallen.

Dean's head snapped toward the door. Every trace of annoyance disappeared. He was on his feet before he'd even realized he'd stood.

He yanked the door open. And froze.

Y/N laid crumpled just outside his room. One hand still stretched weakly toward the doorframe. Her hair had fallen across part of her face. She looked frighteningly pale.

"What the…" Dean dropped to his knees instantly. "Y/N?"

She stirred. Barely. Her eyelids fluttered open just enough to find him. For a second, she simply looked at him. Like she was trying to make sure she'd found the right room.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he asked, the question coming out much sharper than he'd intended.

Was he angry? No.

Panicked? Confused? Terrified? Yes.

"I..." she whispered. Her voice was so quiet he almost missed it. "I know..." She swallowed with visible effort. "I know you hate me enough not to try anything…”

Her eyes began slipping shut.

Dean's expression shattered.

Her arm gave out beneath her. Her body pitched sideways.

"Y/N!"

He caught her before she could hit her head.

Dean held her; one arm around her shoulders, the other catching her legs awkwardly before lowering her carefully against him.

"Hey, hey, hey." His voice had changed completely. Every ounce of sarcasm was gone. Every trace of arrogance vanished. Raw panic replaced all of it.

"Look at me." Her head lolled weakly against his shoulder. "Y/N."

Nothing.

"Come on."

Her eyes opened halfway. Just enough.

"There you are."

His hand came up instinctively, brushing loose strands of hair away from her face. She looked exhausted. Not sleepy. Drained. Like staying conscious required more effort than she had left.

"What happened?"

She blinked slowly and closed her eyes.

Dean's heart slammed painfully against his ribs. He tried to control his shaking hands.

"What did you have to drink?"

She frowned.

"...just..." Another slow blink. "...not much..."

"Did you hit your head?"

A tiny shake. "No."

"Did somebody…" His voice caught. He couldn't even finish the question. Y/N looked at him, and nodded.

"I think so..." Her breathing hitched. And she fully closed her eyes.

Dean’s eyes widened. He was trying to hide his panic.

"Okay." He nodded quickly. "Okay."

He wasn't okay. Not even close. But she needed him calm.

"I've got you."

He slipped one arm beneath her knees and the other behind her back. She was lighter than he'd expected. Too light.

She instinctively curled toward his chest as he lifted her. Her forehead rested weakly against his shoulder. Dean carried her inside as though she might break.

The bedroom door swung shut behind them. He crossed to the bed immediately. He lowered her carefully onto the mattress, supporting her head until it rested against the pillow.

She shivered. Without thinking, Dean tugged the comforter over her. He crouched beside the bed.

"Stay with me." He shook her slighly so she’d stay conscious. Y/N looked at him through half-lidded eyes.

"I'm trying."

"I know." His voice cracked. "I know."

She reached for him without really meaning to. Her fingers brushed weakly against his wrist. Dean took her hand immediately. Firm. Steady.

"I'm here."

Her grip was almost nonexistent. She still didn't let go as she closed her eyes one last time to sleep off the drug’s effect.

Dean looked at her. Really looked at her. She was unconscious and laying in his bed. A dark thought crossed his mind. She could have not made it to his room and right now… God knows what would have happened.

She'd climbed the stairs. Walked through an entire house full of people. Passed countless rooms. And somehow she'd come here, to him. And out of all people he chose him not because she trusted him, but because she thought he hated her enough not to try anything another filthy guy would.

A lump settled painfully in his throat.

Y/n’s eyes opened slowly, she was in and out of consciousness.

"I'm here." Dean whispered.

Her breathing slowed again. Her eyelids drooped lower.

"No, no."

Dean gently squeezed her hand.

"Don't fall asleep again, not yet."

"Tired."

"I know."

"Just..." Her words were fading.

He leaned closer. "Stay awake a little longer for me."

She tried.

God, she tried.

He could see it.

The effort it took just to keep her eyes open.

Eventually she looked at him one last time. Really looked. Like she wanted to make sure he was still there. Then, satisfied, her fingers loosened around his hand. Her breathing evened out. Her face relaxed for the first time since he'd opened the door.

"Y/N?"

No answer.

Just the quiet rhythm of sleep.

Dean stayed exactly where he was.

Still holding her hand. Still watching the slow rise and fall of her chest. As if looking away, even for a second, might somehow let something happen to her.

Downstairs, the party raged on. People laughed. Music shook the walls. Someone cheered loud enough for the sound to carry upstairs. Dean didn't hear any of it. His entire world had narrowed to the girl asleep in his bed and the sickening realization that she chose him to be her safe place due to every cruel thing he said to her, because in y/n’s eyes Dean hated her.

Hockey boys disappeared.

You wished you had known that before you let Dean slip out of your place two nights ago.

They didn’t do it intentionally, never maliciously either but the season swallowed them whole. They vanished into six a.m. skates and afternoon lifts, into physical therapy appointments that patched together bruised shoulders and strained knees. Into mandatory media interviews the athletic department insisted would make the team more marketable, more approachable and into lectures they attended only long enough to collect notes before hurrying off to practice again, then came the exams they'd postponed because hockey had always come first until suddenly it couldn't.

Their schedules folded in on themselves until entire days disappeared without warning.

You only ever seemed to find them again at parties, ones Allie and Hannah practically dragged you to, insisting fresh air, loud music and cheap drinks counted as emotional healing.

Your skin had been buzzing ever since that night, an awareness sitting right beneath the surface no matter how hard you tried to ignore it. Every time you opened your dresser, the tangled pile of Agent Provocateur lace shoved unceremoniously into the back of your drawer stared back at you like evidence from a crime scene. You'd stuffed it in there without folding a single piece, too flustered to deal with it afterward, yet you still couldn't bring yourself to move it somewhere less obvious.

Then there were Dean's texts, you answered them eventually, right after rewriting each reply sufficient times to make yourself question your own sanity. Was starting a sentence with a capital letter too serious? Did ending it with a period make you sound annoyed? Was “okay” different from “ok”? You caught yourself deleting perfectly normal messages simply because they looked too eager before sending something shorter that felt even stranger.

You hadn't mentioned that night once.

You tried not to think too much about the kiss or what had come before and especially not how it had ended. He'd watched you pull your pajamas on without a trace of impatience, giving you the privacy of looking away whenever your eyes met before inevitably finding you again, you kept your focus away from the memory of the gentle press of his lips against your forehead before he'd left, so tender you could still feel the warmth after he’d stepped away. You'd looked completely wrung out, limbs heavy, emotions stripped bare, too tired to pretend you were anything but vulnerable and he'd treated you like something precious instead of fragile.

You hadn't reached for him.

Even now, the memory made your fingers twitch uselessly at your sides. If you'd caught his wrist and tugged him back for even another minute, would anything feel different now? Or would you still be dissecting text messages like they were evidence in a court case, wondering how you had become shy after years of knowing each other better than anyone else?

“So that's what it feels like,” you breathed, the words escaping before you realized you'd spoken them aloud as your heeled boots scraped lazily against the sidewalk.

A few steps ahead, Allie stopped so abruptly she nearly caused a collision. She turned on her heel, her brows knitting together as she looked first at Hannah walking beside you, checking whether she'd heard the same thing, before her attention landed squarely on you.

“That's what what feels like?” she asked, curiosity overtaking whatever conversation you three had been having.

You could feel another exchange of glances pass between them, so quick most people would've missed it. Hannah's eyebrows lifted ever so slightly, Allie's mouth pulled into a thin line before she gave the smallest shrug in return.

Years of friendship had made you fluent in conversations that didn't require words. If you had to guess, it translated roughly to “Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe it was too soon to drag her to a party.” You pretended not to notice. Instead, you let your gaze drift down the street.

Cars lined both curbs, squeezed bumper to bumper beneath the streetlights, while clusters of students spilled across lawns and sidewalks with red cups already in hand. Music pulsed from somewhere ahead, bass so heavy it vibrated faintly beneath your feet and every few seconds another burst of laughter erupted from the overcrowded house at the end of the block where people continuously filtered through the front door, the party breathing them in and out.

You let out a quiet sigh, wondering whether turning around now would actually be more awkward than simply going inside.

Hannah spoke first, her voice light. “We don't have to stay long,” she reasoned, slipping her hands into the pockets of her jacket as she smiled at you. “There's free booze. Let's just treat it like a pregame, then we can head back to the apartment, order something greasy and play poker.”

“No offense, girls,” you replied with the ghost of a smile, “but I'm not stripping naked in front of you two tonight. Sorry to disappoint.”

Allie snorted. “I think she means the normal kind of poker.”

You looked at her with exaggerated disbelief. “We're in college, Allie. There is no other kind.”

A laugh escaped Hannah while Allie rolled her eyes so dramatically you were surprised they didn't disappear into the back of her head permanently.

“Okay…” Allie muttered under her breath, drawing the word out as she pointed an accusing finger at you. “Pessimist.” Then her entire expression brightened again, optimism returning with alarming speed. “Let's not waste good outfits by turning around prematurely. One hour.” She held up a finger. “Two, tops.”

“And no boys–” Hannah added.

You watched Allie's head whip toward her so quickly a strand of hair stuck briefly to her lipstick. “What?” she protested.

Hannah ignored her entirely, keeping her eyes on you instead. “We'll keep them at bay.”

“Who's we?” Allie demanded, her eyes widening in horror. She turned toward Hannah, raising both eyebrows in an elaborate series of expressions that looked suspiciously like she was trying to negotiate exceptions without saying them openly.

“Yeah,” you chimed in before Hannah could answer, “let's not be rash.”

Both of them looked at you at once and you blinked innocently. “I mean…” you amended, scratching lightly at the side of your neck. “Talking's fine, right?” Your shoulders lifted in a small shrug. “If Tucker came up to me, I wouldn't ignore him.”

“You like Tucker?” Hannah asked carefully, the question so gentle that it almost sounded like she was testing the ice before stepping onto it. Her eyes narrowed, though the corner of her mouth betrayed the beginning of a smile. “Though he's not the demographic I'm worried about.”

Your head snapped toward her. “No, I–” You stumbled over the words, making a vague gesture in the air between you. “It was just an example. He's a boy–” You caught yourself. “Man.” The correction did absolutely nothing to restore your confidence as both of them continued staring at you expectantly. You winced. “Okay, it was a bad example,” you admitted, ducking your head.

Before either of them could capitalize on it, you slipped neatly between them and continued walking toward the house, hoping physical distance would somehow end the conversation…It didn't.

“Surprised you didn't use Dean,” Allie remarked quietly.

Your entire body locked up and your next step faltered before stopping altogether. Slowly, you turned back to face them, your expression caught somewhere between horrified and deeply offended. “Let's pick another word.”

Allie blinked. “…What?”

You shrugged awkwardly, refusing to elaborate for a second before mumbling, “‘Use’ just sounds wrong.”

“Since when?” Hannah laughed, looking genuinely confused.

“I meant ‘use him’…” Allie's grin spread wider the second she realized what could’ve happened inside your head. “As in ‘use him as an example’.” She pointed at you dramatically. “Though if you're into that dominatrix shit, I'll just ask you not to do it in the apartment.” She tilted her head thoughtfully. “And much less with Di Laurentis. I doubt his ego could handle physically being under a woman and–”

Your eyes widened a little more with every passing sentence. Your mouth opened twice, each time thinking now was the moment you'd interrupt, only for Allie to barrel cheerfully into the next thought before you could squeeze a single word in.

“…he'd probably have trouble performing or something. I don't remember Six Flags having a ride where you stand in line for forty minutes just to leave disappointed. He'd spend more time advertising himself than actually delivering and fuck forbid he finds a captive audience…we'd never hear the end of how 'life-changing' he thinks his d–”

“Allie,” you finally managed weakly, which thankfully made her rant stop.

A few steps away, Hannah made a strangled sound that was half laugh, half cough. “Okay!” she wheezed, trying and failing to compose herself. “I think we'll all stay away from boys tonight.”

A huff of laughter escaped you, the tension finally cracking. “So if Garrett waltzes in,” you asked, “you're just going to keep that man away?” Your eyebrows lifted knowingly. “If what slips through the thinnest walls ever made is any indication, I'd like to see that work in your favor.”

Hannah didn't even have the decency to look embarrassed. “Well, that's different,” she replied with unmistakable pride. “We're together.”

“Better wrap up your French lesson then, Madame,” Allie declared, already marching ahead with exaggerated determination. She shook her head dramatically, muttering loud enough for both of you to hear. “We? Who's we? Far as I know this is still a free country…” She threw one hand into the air in theatrical protest without ever slowing her pace, leaving you and Hannah exchanging an amused glance before following after her.

You grimaced before leaning slightly toward Hannah, lowering your voice as though the woman in question might somehow overhear you from halfway up the walkway. “I think we should start putting the news on as background noise,” you reasoned with complete sincerity.

A laugh escaped Hannah before she bumped your shoulder lightly with hers as the two of you started walking again, unhurried despite Allie steadily increasing the distance between you.

“College is torture enough,” Hannah sighed. “Let's at least wait until we get this semester's grades.”

You nodded thoughtfully. “And gauge exactly how much pain we actually deserve…smart idea.”

Hannah breathed out dramatically. “Or the worst I've ever had.”

You laughed under your breath just as Allie's voice carried across the front lawn. “Are you guys coming or what!?” She stood on the porch with one hand on the doorway of the open front door, the music spilling out around her while impatiently waving both of you over.

“Yeahhh…no,” you replied, motioning toward the overflowing house in the distance, the one she'd insisted would be a good idea in the first place. “I think this one already beats it.” You let out a long, defeated sigh as you and Hannah finally caught up to Allie, meeting her expectant stare. “Poor choice of words again, babe.” You told her, pressing your lips into a thin line.

Allie rolled her eyes with exaggeration, muttering something under her breath that was completely swallowed by the music pouring from the open front door before disappearing inside. The bass had grown strong enough to rattle the loose wooden steps with every beat.

You stepped through the doorway last.

Warm air, thick with perfume, sweat, beer and something unmistakably fruity from whatever jungle juice someone had mixed in the kitchen, hit you instantly. Every room seemed packed wall to wall with students, some danced with complete disregard for personal space while others shouted conversations directly into each other's ears. Plastic cups littered every available surface, laughter rose above the music in uneven bursts and somewhere upstairs someone cheered so loudly, it briefly overpowered the speakers.

“…Or what,” you echoed quietly to yourself as the front door swung shut behind you.

The phrase lingered in your head while your eyes swept over the crowded rental. You spotted Hannah and Allie weaving confidently through the bodies ahead of you, Hannah reaching back once to make sure you were still following before the crowd swallowed her hand again.

“I'm gonna get us something to drink!” you called over the music once you'd caught up.

Allie answered with an enthusiastic thumbs-up that quickly dissolved into dancing with whoever happened to be beside her, already swaying to the beat without a hint of self-consciousness. Hannah, meanwhile, had her phone out before you even finished speaking, her attention dropping to the screen with a smile you recognized instantly as she typed what was almost certainly a message to Garrett letting him know the three of you had made it there safely.

You smiled back at everyone who greeted you on the way through the house, returning waves and quick hellos even when you barely recognized the faces. If you acted normal for a while longer, maybe your brain would eventually believe that this was just another party, another late night. No tangled thoughts or awkward tension sitting beneath your skin, no constant awareness of a pair of hands that had learned you with impossible patience only two nights earlier.

You kept searching for the kitchen instead, hoping the simple task would occupy your mind before it drifted back to your bedroom, to the mirror the two of you had stood in front of, to the way he'd looked at you through your own reflection, the quiet praise, the tenderness and how he'd made you feel seen by expertly opening the walls to your own pleasure.

By the time you reached the kitchen, you were relieved by the mundane sight of overcrowded counters. You pulled it open, grabbed three cans of soda and decided they were probably the smarter choice, experience had already proven that alcohol loosened your tongue far more than your common sense appreciated.

You cracked yours open, taking a long sip as the cold, fizzy sweetness settled pleasantly in your throat, cooling the nervous warmth that had been building there all evening. For a moment, you simply stood there, your eyes wandering over the crowded kitchen. People leaned against countertops with red cups in hand, someone laughed loudly, making the room glance over and two strangers debated mixers in front of the freezer.

Then your gaze caught on the one face you had hoped not to see, your ex.

His eyes found yours in the same instant, his posture straightening automatically. You recognized that look, that subtle shift that always came a second before he decided on his next move which was toward you.

Instinctively, you took a step backward, only to bump into a cluster of people reaching for drinks behind you. Someone muttered a quick apology without looking up, another squeezed past with a bag of ice and before you could sidestep out of the way, the kitchen had filled in around you completely. There was nowhere left to retreat.

He threaded through the crowd anyway, slipping between shoulders and conversations with determination until he stopped in front of you, wearing the careful expression of someone approaching a frightened animal he believed he could still coax closer. “Haven’t seen you around in a while.”

“Let’s make that a little longer then, wouldn’t that be nice?” you replied with a smile that never quite reached your eyes.

He exhaled through his nose, already looking faintly irritated in that familiar way that told you he'd remembered one of the things he'd disliked most about dating you, your sarcasm. “Come on, don’t be like that–”

“Don’t be like what?” you cut in flatly.

He hesitated, his rehearsed opening clearly unraveling. “I just meant…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m trying to apologize here, okay?”

You let out a humorless laugh. “Great fucking job you’re doing,” you noted with a careless shrug. “Fantastic timing too, just like in the cafeteria.”

He sighed heavily, rubbing a hand across his face as though he could erase the last few weeks with the gesture alone. “I know I fucked up, okay? I tried to text you–”

“You’re blocked.” The interruption came so automatically you barely thought about it.

He paused for half a second before giving a slow, unimpressed nod. “I figured.”

“Good.” You took another sip of your soda before looking back up at him. “I was worried guessing would use up the rest of your brain cells and you wouldn’t have any left by the time exam season came around.”

A dry, humorless laugh escaped him. He glanced around the kitchen instinctively, checking whether anyone had overheard the exchange before his attention settled back on you. “This is all just a fucking game to you, huh?” His eyes dragged over you with thinly veiled annoyance.

“Isn’t that what made you leave?” You shot back, “Only one of us hates losing badly enough to flee.”

“Fuck you,” he bit out sharply. “I didn’t flee.”

“You didn’t stick around to try either.” You stepped forward to press a finger firmly against the center of his chest, the contact making him stiffen. “I fucked you.”

His jaw flexed so hard you thought you heard his teeth grind together. Slowly, almost unconsciously, he took a step backward, your finger slipping away from his shirt.

“Don’t text again,” you finished, your voice suddenly much quieter than before. “I think you’ve wasted enough of each other's time.”

He stared at you for another second, searching your face for something that wasn't there anymore, then he looked away first. Without another word, he turned, disappearing back into the crowd until the moving bodies swallowed him entirely.

You remained where you were, blinking slowly as your pulse settled, willing the humiliation from the cafeteria and the anger sitting hot in your chest to dissolve together into something less exhausting. They stubbornly refused.

Your eyes dropped to the soda can still clutched in your hand. You frowned at it as if it had failed you before lifting it for another long drink, the carbonation stung pleasantly at the back of your throat. You swallowed, exhaled through your nose and muttered under your breath, “I fucking hate being sober.”

“No you don’t.” The voice reached you immediately and it made every muscle in your shoulders relaxed before your brain had even caught up. You turned around so quickly a few drops of soda sloshed over the rim of the can. Relief settled into your chest the second you saw him.

Dean stood just a few steps away, both hands shoved into the pocket of a dark hoodie thrown hastily over a wrinkled Briar hockey T-shirt. A baseball cap sat low on his head, hair escaping around the edges and there were faint shadows beneath his eyes that spoke of too many early practices and not nearly enough sleep. He looked nothing like someone who planned on staying at the party and despite looking completely worn out, seeing him made the crowded kitchen feel infinitely less suffocating.

“Get me out of here,” you sighed, the words leaving you in one long breath. “Please.”

Dean's eyebrows lifted in genuine surprise before one corner of his mouth curled upward. The tiredness hanging around his eyes didn't disappear but it softened beneath a grin he was clearly trying and failing to suppress. “Is that begging I hear?”

Your eyes narrowed sharply. “Make yourself useful, Di Laurentis.”

He nodded with exaggerated thoughtfulness, accepting the challenge as he reached over to pluck the two unopened soda cans from your hands, balancing them effortlessly in one hand. “Front jean pocket,” he instructed, nodding toward your right side. “On your right.”

Your gaze followed the gesture before immediately flicking back up to his face, then, despite yourself, it drifted lower to his jeans. You looked back up at him with unmistakable suspicion and slowly shook your head. “I'm not putting my hand in there,” you decided, lowering your voice instinctively beneath the music. “It's inappropriate…and there's a…” Your eyes darted downward again before returning to his. “…lump.” Doubt colored the last word.

Dean stared at you for a beat before an incredulous laugh escaped him. “Those are my car keys,” he clarified, amusement bleeding into every syllable. “I figured you should wait in my car.” His grin only widened the longer he watched realization dawn across your face. Tilting his head slightly, he studied you with obvious delight. “You think I'm hung like that?”

You straightened, refusing to give him the satisfaction of looking embarrassed. “There was a point where we bathed together before it got weird,” you reminded him matter-of-factly. “I think I know exactly how hung you are.”

His eyebrows climbed. “Seen it recently?”

You snorted. “Your pants don't leave much up to the imagination.”

“Trust me,” he replied with effortless confidence, giving a small shake of his head. “They do.” He nodded once more toward his pocket. “Front pocket. Go on.”

You groaned quietly. “You saying ‘go on’ doesn't somehow make this better, you pervert,” you whisper-yelled, stepping closer so your complaint wouldn't carry past the people milling around the kitchen.

Dean mirrored the movement, leaning down until the two of you were close enough that neither of you had to raise your voices. Around you, the party rolled on without a second glance. Someone behind you was arguing over whose turn it was at beer pong, another group erupted into cheers from the living room and a couple squeezed past carrying more drinks, nobody spared the two of you so much as a curious look.

Dean's eyes lingered on your face, taking in the fake indignation you weren't quite managing to sell.

His smile softened, more playful than teasing. “Don't let those fingers stray, then,” he murmured, his tone light, you couldn't tell whether he was trying to fluster you or simply enjoying how easily you flustered yourself. “I'd hate for you to get distracted.”

You reached forward, hooking a finger through one of Dean's belt loops and giving it a small tug that drew him a step closer without either of you thinking much about it. The movement brought him within arm's reach, the familiar scent of clean detergent, cedar and the lingering bite of cold night air clinging to his hoodie crowded out the smell of beer and cheap liquor filling the kitchen.

You intentionally looked everywhere but at his face as you slipped a cautious hand into his front pocket, determined to keep your attention fixed on finding the keys rather than on the warmth radiating through the denim beneath your fingertips. Your fingers searched carefully until they brushed cool metal.

The two of you stood almost chest to chest now, neither acknowledging just how little space remained between you. “New perfume?” he asked conversationally, though the amusement in his voice was impossible to miss. It was probably the safest compliment he could give you, anything more direct and there was a decent chance you'd retaliate by driving a knee into somewhere he valued quite highly.

Then again, he thought with private amusement, doubling over from the pain would technically put him even closer to you.

“Shut up,” you mumbled, refusing to look at him as you heard him unsuccessfully swallow a laugh. Your index finger finally caught the loop of the keychain and with a victorious little huff you pulled the keys free before quickly retreating a full step as though distance alone could erase how aware you'd just become of him.

You held the keys up between two fingers. “Couple of lumps you've got in there.”

Dean stared at you for half a second before slowly shaking his head. “Poor choice of words.”

You pointed vaguely in the air between the two of you. “Yeah, say that to Allie.”

His brows pinched together. “…What's that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” You answered far too quickly before he could pry further. Gesturing toward the crowded rooms beyond the kitchen, you added, “I don't care if they drink, just make sure they have a driver home. We drove here.”

“Yes, ma'am,” he replied with an exaggerated nod and a mock salute. “Garrett's with them anyway. I'll tell him.” Moving to the side, he tipped his head toward the hallway in a silent gesture for you to go first. You squeezed back through the crowd, Dean falling into step close behind you without needing to be asked.

“Alright,” you muttered, fishing your phone out as you carefully navigated around a couple dancing in the middle of the hallway. “I'll text them too.” Your thumbs were already opening the group chat. “Seeing my fuckass ex is enough of an excuse to call it a night.”

Dean's expression, playful until then, quieted as he glanced back toward the kitchen you'd just left before looking down at you, his pace never slowing to make sure you never had to push your way through the crowd alone.

“He's here?” Dean asked, every trace of amusement now fully gone. His shoulders straightened instinctively as his eyes swept back toward the kitchen over his shoulder. “Where?”

You caught him halfway through turning, already reading exactly where his mind was headed. Before he could take a single step, you reached out, your fingers slipping into the waistband, lightly catching against his jeans to tug him back in the opposite direction. “Not the mission,” you reminded him.

Dean's attention dropped briefly to your hand before he let himself be redirected without resistance, falling back into step behind you. “I'm willing to make an exception,” he muttered, though there wasn't much conviction behind it anymore. After a beat, his voice softened. “Did he talk to you?” The concern sat plainly beneath the question.

You hummed in acknowledgment. “And I talked back.” You shrugged as if it had cost you nothing, even if your heartbeat hadn't entirely settled yet. “He won't invade Troy tonight…problem solved.”

By the time you reached the main room again, you rose onto your toes, scanning over the sea of heads for Hannah and Allie. “I saw them over there last.”

Dean followed your gaze before nodding. “They went out back. I'll go find them.” He jerked his thumb toward the street outside. “My car's up there.”

“No detours,” you warned, pointing a finger squarely at his chest. “I'm serious.” You didn't have to explain which detour you meant.

Dean looked at you for a second before lifting both hands innocently. “I'd say I'll keep my eyes down,” he replied, “but then we'd come face to face.” He punctuated the joke with the most exaggerated, insincere shrug imaginable, very intentionally mocking your ex's height.

You couldn't help the laugh that escaped you. “Face to nose if he's wearing his lifts,” you corrected.

“Told you he wasn't that tall,” Dean added, unable to resist sounding just a little smug as he began walking backward toward the sliding door leading outside, keeping his eyes on you until someone bumped into his shoulder and forced him to glance away.

“Yeah, well,” you mumbled as you headed toward the front door instead, weaving between conversations and dancing bodies, “one pair of fakers we were.”

The cool night air met you the second you stepped outside, washing away the suffocating warmth and noise of the packed house. You drew in a deep breath, the distant bass now muffled behind closed walls and doors instead of vibrating through your ribs. Following Dean's directions, you walked up the street beneath the glow of scattered streetlights until you found his car parked along the curb. You unlocked it with a press of the key fob, climbed into the passenger seat,and shut the door behind you. The silence that settled around you felt almost foreign after the chaos inside. You leaned back, letting your head rest against the seat, absently turning the unfinished soda can between your hands while condensation dampened your fingertips.

It wasn't long before the driver's door opened. Dean slid into the seat beside you, shut the door with a solid thud and for a moment neither of you said anything, both simply appreciating the quiet. The two of you sat without moving, facing the windshield as warm orange streetlights painted long streaks across the hood of the vehicle.

“Forgot how to drive?” you asked quietly, turning your head toward him. The question died when you realized he was already looking at you. He hadn't been watching the street ahead at all.

“Forgot I can't read your mind?” he countered, one eyebrow lifting.

“We both know you can,” you replied just as quietly, the corner of your mouth threatening the smallest smile. “Just won’t advertise it.”

Dean held your gaze for another second, searching your face as though deciding whether to challenge that. Instead, he looked away first. He reached for the ignition, started the engine and shifted the car into drive. It wasn't surprising in the slightest when he drove toward your apartment without asking where you wanted to go.

The drive passed in comfortable silence, it didn’t beg to be filled but still acknowledged some conversations deserved better than red lights and passing traffic. Every now and then your eyes drifted toward him, only to find his attention fixed on the road, one hand resting loosely on the steering wheel while the other tapped absentmindedly against the stick shift in time with a song only he seemed to hear.

He glanced at you once at a stoplight, offering a faint, reassuring smile before looking ahead again.

When he parked on campus, neither of you commented on the fact that he killed the engine immediately instead of lingering in the driver's seat. You climbed out together, your footsteps falling into an easy rhythm as you crossed the silent pathways toward your building.

The night air had cooled further, carrying the scent of damp grass and distant rain and Dean stayed close without crowding you, matching your pace while occasionally glancing your way as though weighing a dozen different openings to a conversation he hadn't quite found yet.

You unlocked your apartment door and stepped inside. He followed a second later, pulling the door shut behind him until the click of the lock left the apartment wrapped in familiar silence.

“Not much of a talker these days, I see.” The words carried no accusation. If anything, there was relief in finally saying them aloud after days of carefully skirting around the obvious.

Your replies had shrunk from paragraphs to sentences, then from sentences to a handful of words. Phone calls that once stretched lazily into the early hours now barely lasted a few minutes before one of you found an excuse to hang up. You wandered farther into the living space, slipping your jacket off your shoulders and draping it over the back of the couch.

Beneath it, the fitted top you'd worn out suddenly felt much less out of place than it had at the party. At home, there was no reason to pull the fabric loose or check how much skin it revealed. Hiding from Dean had never really been an option and after everything the two of you had shared, it felt pointless to start now.

“Not much of anything lately,” you mumbled, avoiding his eyes as you smoothed an imaginary wrinkle from the hem of your top.

Even without looking, you could feel his gaze settle on you. It carried none of the hunger that had unsettled you in front of your bedroom mirror days before. Instead, it was patient, concerned, impossibly attentive and that made it even harder to meet. Warmth crept across your skin anyway, a shiver tracing lazily up your spine under the weight of being so thoroughly seen.

Dean took a couple of measured steps forward, stopping before the space between you disappeared entirely. He tilted his head slightly, trying to catch your eyes and finding only your profile. “Did he get into your head?” he asked gently.

The question lingered for barely a heartbeat before you shook your head and finally looked up.

Your eyes found his. “No,” you answered. “You did.” The words came out quietly, stripped of frustration or blame. They weren't meant as an accusation, they mostly sounded like the first honest thing you'd managed to say all week.

“Well,” he breathed, the corners of his mouth lifting into an easy smile, “think I should've gotten first dibs on it before anyone else anyway.” As he spoke, he closed the remaining distance between you with unhurried confidence, leaving barely enough room for a breath to pass between your bodies.

“Funny,” you answered dryly, though the effort it took to keep your expression straight was entirely wasted. Your lips betrayed you, twitching upward despite your best attempts. You rubbed absently at your eyebrow before letting out a sigh, trying to smooth away nerves that refused to settle. “I don't know how to talk to you anymore,” you admitted, the confession falling somewhere between frustration and vulnerability.

It explained the clipped texts, the shortened calls, every conversation that had ended long before either of you had actually wanted it to. Dean's expression softened as he gave the smallest shake of his head, his voice matching the gentleness in his eyes. “That's okay.”

“No, it's not.” Your gaze dropped to your heeled boots, suddenly fascinated by the floor beneath them.

“You're doing it to me,” he replied with certainty. “I would know.” He stepped forward until there was nowhere left for the distance between you to exist. “Look at me.”

The request carried none of the sharpness of a command. It was patient, warm, spoken with the confidence that you'd meet him there eventually. Slowly, you lifted your eyes just as his hands came up to cradle your face, his palms warm against your cheeks, his thumbs resting lightly close to your ears. “It's okay,” he repeated, searching your face as though he intended to make you believe it through persistence alone.

You exhaled through your nose. “Of course you'd think that.”

“Mhm.” The sound vibrated quietly in his throat as he leaned in, brushing the tip of his nose gently against yours. The tiny gesture stole another reluctant smile from you. “Though if you ever say you're not much of anything again,” he murmured, “I'm afraid we're gonna have issues.”

Your hands rose instinctively, settling against his biceps, feeling familiar muscle beneath the soft fabric of his hoodie. “Don't we already?” you asked, smiling properly now.

“My only issue,” he replied without hesitation, “is that I haven't kissed you in two days.” His thumbs brushed lightly across your cheeks. “What's yours?”

“I already told you.” Your smile lingered as he began guiding the two of you backward through the apartment with tiny, measured steps, never pushing or assuming. Every movement left you room to stop him if you wanted to, though you never did.

“And I know you have a close second,” he said quietly.

You hesitated, swallowing once before admitting the thought you'd spent days trying to bury. “…It's embarrassing when the wanting shows.”

Dean's expression softened further. He shook his head once. “And the only person who ever made you feel ashamed of that isn't here anymore.”

Your fingers tightened around his arms without thinking. “It's gonna take a while to unlearn that,” you whispered.

“I can wait,” he answered. There wasn't a trace of impatience in his voice, only certainty. “I happen to know that what comes after is worth a lot more than passing time.”

Your breathing caught slightly. “What comes after, Dean?” you asked, your hands holding him a little tighter as though the answer might slip away if you didn't.

He leaned down until his lips barely grazed yours, close enough for every word to be felt as much as heard. “You.” The single word lingered between your mouths before he continued softly, “Everywhere else it can wait. Until that happens, you cum first.” A teasing smile slowly returned to his lips. “Still think my choice of words is poor?”

A quiet laugh escaped you, so warm it dissolved the last remnants of tension sitting in your chest. “Not if you prove it to be right.”

That was all the encouragement he needed. His mouth found yours with restrained hunger, patient for only the first heartbeat before deepening the kiss. One hand slipped from your cheek to the place where your jaw met your neck, tilting your face upward to meet him fully, while your own fingers disappeared into his hair, threading through the soft curls at the back of his head as every uncertain conversation from the past two days quietly gave way to something the two of you had always understood better than words.

Your tongues moved together with an ease that made the last two days of awkwardness feel impossibly far away, every hesitant thought dissolving into this. Your fingers gradually slipped from his hair, lingering there for a heartbeat before finding the front clasps of your top instead.

You worked at them absentmindedly, your attention never truly leaving him until the kiss eventually broke with a soft, audible pop, though neither of you moved very far.

Dean rested his forehead lightly against yours, his breathing still uneven as his eyes searched your face rather than wandering elsewhere. “Do you need anything?” he asked, his voice low enough that it barely disturbed the silence filling your room. Even as you continued undoing the clasps, he never looked away from your eyes. “Tell me what I can do.”

A small smile tugged at your lips, heat pooling low in your belly at the intensity of his gaze. You finished with the last fastening and shrugged the fabric from your shoulders, letting it slide carelessly to the floor beside your feet. Your breasts spilled free, nipples already tight and aching from the cool air and the weight of his stare before folding your arms loosely across yourself more out of habit than discomfort. “I was hoping you had a plan.”

Dean nodded, his expression turning thoughtful. His gaze drifted around your room instead of lingering on you, as though sorting through possibilities rather than impulses. The lingerie crossed his mind only briefly before he dismissed it, that had helped once but it wasn't something he wanted either of you to rely on.

He pressed a gentle kiss against your forehead before turning away entirely and walking toward your dresser. Pulling open the top drawer, he began looking through it with surprising confidence, as though he vaguely remembered where things belonged from years of friendship spent around you.

“Sure…” you nodded, watching him with growing amusement as you bent to unzip your boots, kicking each one aside before slipping out of your skirt and underwear as well, letting them pool at your feet, leaving you completely bare before him. “Make yourself right at home.”

“We can argue about it later,” he answered without looking over his shoulder, continuing his careful search. “You'll tell me how forward it was of me and I'll agree with whatever punishment or compensation you decide on afterward.” His hand paused before finally lifting a long, narrow scarf from beneath a folded sweater. “This'll do.”

Your eyebrows lifted. “For what?”

Turning back toward you, he crossed the room at an unhurried pace, stopping within arm's reach. The teasing had disappeared from his face, replaced by the same patience he'd shown you all evening.

Holding the scarf loosely in one hand so you could see it clearly, he asked, “Do you trust me?”

You tilted your head, studying him, trying to read whatever idea was taking shape behind his eyes. “I don't think I've ever had to ask myself that.”

“I need you to ask now,” he replied gently. “Do you trust me?” He let the question sit between you before adding, “And if you don't like where this is going, we stop. Immediately…at any point.” His certainty wasn't performative, it was calm, leaving no room for doubt about whether he meant it.

You held his gaze for another moment before answering, your voice barely above a whisper. “I trust you.” A faint smile softened your features. “It's not something I've ever questioned.”

He waited a beat before speaking again, giving you every opportunity to change your mind.

“Turn around.” The instruction was patient, offered rather than imposed. He didn't repeat it when you hesitated, didn't fill the silence that settled between you.

His eyes simply remained on yours as you swallowed, searching his face one last time before slowly turning your naked body away from him until your back faced his chest. You felt him move closer, heard the faint rustle of fabric as he stretched the scarf carefully between both hands. It rested gently over your eyes, the material impossibly soft against your skin before he drew the ends behind your head and tied a secure knot with care.

His fingers lingered, checking that nothing tugged uncomfortably. “Is this too tight?” he asked.

You instinctively shook your head before remembering he would probably request for it to be spoken. “No,” you managed softly.

His hand settled lightly against your hip, the simple contact making your breath catch. With the gentlest pressure, he guided you back around until you faced him once more. Deprived of your sight, every other sensation sharpened, from the warmth radiating from where he stood, to the rhythm of his breathing and the subtle creak of the floor beneath shifting weight.

You heard the soft thud of fabric landing somewhere nearby once he peeled off his hoodie and t-shirt, followed by another low rustle before his footsteps returned. His hands found yours gently, wrapping loosely around your wrists before guiding them upward until your palms rested against the warmth of his bare chest.

He didn't move them any further, leaving the choice entirely to you. Tentatively, your fingertips traced across firm muscle, learning the shape through touch alone. Your confidence grew by degrees, hands exploring broader paths over his shoulders and chest, your nails lightly grazing the contours beneath his skin before drifting lower over the firm lines of his abdomen, pausing briefly at his navel before following the faint trail of hair disappearing beneath the waistband of his jeans.

Your fingers came to rest just above the button. “I want these off,” you breathed.

Dean couldn't help the smile that spread across his face, though you only heard it in the warmth that colored his reply. “You think you're in a position to make demands?”

“That's exactly what I think, Di Laurentis.” You nodded once beneath the blindfold, a small smile tugging at your own lips. “If you want me to play the game, you're going to have to comply a little sooner.”

A quiet chuckle escaped him before it faded just as quickly. When he spoke again, his voice had lost almost all of its teasing edge. “I don't think this is us playing around anymore.” You felt him lean in, his breath brushing against your forehead as he spoke. “I hate that we used that as an excuse.” The frustration threaded through his words was unmistakable, directed inward rather than at you, carrying the weight of every feeling the two of you had hidden behind jokes because admitting them outright had always seemed far more frightening.

You couldn't help but smile at the memory, warmth creeping into your expression. There had been something absurdly innocent about the two of you back then, trusting each other so completely that curiosity had outweighed embarrassment, stumbling into questions neither of you had been old enough to answer, only to leave them hanging for years.

“We were getting too curious,” you murmured, a quiet laugh escaping with the admission.

“Isn't that what's happening now?” he asked, his voice carrying the faintest hint of amusement.

You tilted your head beneath the blindfold, the smile on your lips widening. “You know how to tie your own laces now, don't you?” you teased. He laughed softly before leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your lips. Your hands rose instinctively, finding the sides of his face, your thumbs brushing lightly along his jaw as you returned the kiss with an ease that had finally replaced the uncertainty of the past few days.

His tongue brushed yours, drawing a soft moan from your throat as heat pooled heavier between your thighs and while you kissed, his hands worked open the button of his jeans. You heard the metallic rasp of the zipper, followed by the rustle of fabric as he shoved them down his hips along with his boxers. He kicked off his shoes and stepped out of the rest of his clothes, leaving him gloriously bare. The heat of his body radiated against yours and you could feel the hard length of his cock brushing against your stomach, hot, heavy and already leaking at the tip.

His strong hands slid down your sides, then gripped your waist, lifting you effortlessly as a surprised yelp escaped you, quickly dissolving into a breathless laugh. Your legs wrapped around his hips as you kept kissing, mouths moving together in perfect sync while his muscles flexed beneath your palms as he carried you across the room, the thick head of his erection nudging teasingly against your inner thighs with every step.

He knelt carefully onto the bed, the mattress dipping under your combined weight and gently laid you back against the pillows. Your legs fell open shamelessly, knees bending and parting wide to make room for him. The cool air kissed your dripping pussy, making you acutely aware of how soaked and ready you already were.

Dean settled between your spread thighs, hips brushing the sensitive skin of your inner legs as his lips left yours to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses along the corner of your mouth, your cheek and down the sensitive column of your throat. Then he pulled back, leaving you waiting in the dark, blindfolded and aching.

You reached for him, fingers tracing and caressing every inch of his face from his cheekbones, the slight stubble on his jaw and the curve of his lips, trying to paint his expression in your mind.

His nose nudged affectionately against yours and you felt the warmth of his breath mingle with your own, the thick tension between you crackling like electricity.

He swallowed. “Can I kiss you?” His voice was hesitant, it didn't belong to the confident grin he usually wore. The uncertainty made your brows draw together for the briefest moment before your expression softened into a small, helpless smile.

“I think we're beyond you asking,” you replied, your heartbeat quickening as the silence stretched comfortably between you.

Dean's eyes lingered on your face, before landing on your lips for only a moment before lifting again. “Not on your mouth, Y/n,” he specified shamelessly.

You swallowed hard and nodded softly against the pillows, chest rising and falling faster as you heard the mattress shift under his weight.

His warm lips finally landed on your shoulder, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss there before trailing lower. They brushed along your sternum, then settled between your breasts, his hot breath fanning over the sensitive skin. When his mouth closed around one peaked nipple, you gasped sharply. The wet heat of his tongue swirled around the stiff bud, flicking and sucking with just the right pressure, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. Your back arched instinctively, pushing more of your breast into his mouth as slick arousal coated your outer lips.

The hand not supporting his weight traced a feather-light path from your knee upward, fingers grazing the soft skin of your inner thigh before reaching the neglected breast. He cupped its full weight, massaging slowly, rolling the nipple between thumb and forefinger while he continued devouring the other, gauging every reaction, squeezing harder when your breathing turned ragged and gentling when you whimpered, learning exactly how you liked to be touched.

When the first nipple was glistening and throbbing from his attention, he switched sides. His mouth claimed the other peak with the same hungry reverence, sucking deeply while his fingers continued to knead the slick, sensitive flesh he’d just left behind, all while low, needy sounds spilled from your throat.

Satisfied, Dean let his tongue drag lower, licking a slow, wet trail down the underside of your breast. He pressed lingering kisses along your ribs, then your stomach, each one audible and intentionally placed, his lips brushed over your navel, teasing the sensitive skin there before venturing even lower. He took his time, kissing the crease where your thigh met your pelvis, then settling fully between your spread legs.

Your heart thundered so loudly in your ears that the rest of the world felt distant. Blindfolded and trembling with need, every other sense was amplified, the heat of his breath against your dripping pussy, the faint scent of your arousal mixing with his and the slight tremble in his hands as he gripped your thighs. He was clearly trying to pace himself, wanting to savor you without rushing, refusing to give your doubts any room to surface.

A broken moan tore from your lips the moment his mouth finally sealed around your swollen clit. The wet heat, the perfect suction and the slow swirl of his tongue, were nearly too much, your hips jerked upward, fingers fisting the sheets as pleasure spread outwards.

He reached up, finding your hand where it gripped the sheets and laced his fingers through yours, squeezing once. The simple touch pulled you back into the moment when your mind threatened to drift.

“Tell me what you like,” he murmured against your pussy, the low vibration of his voice making your clit throb.

Your mind reeled. No one had ever been this patient with you, this attentive, this unwaveringly focused on what you needed instead of how quickly things could move forward. It felt unfamiliar, so much so that part of you didn't quite know what to do with it and the comparison arrived before you could stop it. Your ex had tried a handful of times but his enthusiasm had always faded the moment your body didn't respond on the timeline he expected. He would pull away with a shrug, muttering excuses about not enjoying it or not liking the taste, always making it sound like a matter of preference while leaving the weight of it squarely on your shoulders.

Every abandoned attempt had left you feeling increasingly self-conscious, wondering whether there was something wrong with you, whether you simply asked too much by needing patience instead of urgency.

Your throat tightened around the words before they ever had a chance to leave it. You wanted to explain why his patience mattered so much, why every careful pause and every moment he gave you without expectation made something in your chest ache but the memories felt too tangled, too embarrassing to lay bare.

“I wouldn’t know,” you breathed, voice shaky.

Dean didn't ask what you meant, he didn't press for details you clearly weren't ready to give, nor did he try to fill the silence with speeches that would only skim the surface. He pressed a soft, open-mouthed kiss right over your clit, then answered calmly, “Feel it. I know you can.”

He accommodated, strong hands sliding under your ass to tilt your hips slightly, giving himself better access. His tongue flattened and licked a long, slow stripe from your entrance up to your clit, gathering your wetness and savoring it with a quiet hum of approval. The sound was so genuine it made your cheeks burn.

He repeated the motion again and again with broad strokes that coated his tongue and lips in your slick arousal, then circled your clit with the tip of his tongue, learning the exact pressure that made your thighs twitch. He sucked the swollen nub gently between his lips, holding it there while his tongue flicked it softly. The suction was warm and rhythmic, never rushed or demanding and when your breathing grew uneven, he eased off enough to drag his tongue back down, licking through your folds and pressing the flat of his tongue against your entrance, tasting you deeply.

His saliva mixed with your own arousal, dripping down over your ass and soaking into the sheets beneath you. He kissed your pussy like he was kissing your mouth, slowly and attentively, alternating between gentle licks, soft sucks and lazy swirls of tongue that explored every inch of your most sensitive regions.

The blindfold made it impossible to predict where his tongue would go next, keeping your body in a constant state of anticipatory tension while Dean kept your hand firmly in his, thumb stroking soothing circles over your knuckles whenever he felt you start to tense or overthink.

Every so often he would pull back to press a tender kiss to your mound or the crease of your thigh, murmuring soft, wordless sounds of encouragement against your skin before diving back in. The sensations were overwhelming in their gentleness, relentless patience that made your pussy feel swollen and pulsing under his mouth.

After another slow, savoring pass of his tongue through your folds, he moved lower and pressed the tip of his tongue against your entrance. He circled the tight ring of muscle first teasingly, before pushing inside, gently but insistently. The thick of his tongue slid into you, stretching you open in the most intimate way possible. He fucked you with it in slow, shallow strokes, curling and thrusting, coating himself in the fresh rush of slick that leaked around his mouth while his nose pressed firmly against your clit with every forward motion, rubbing in time with the rhythm of his tongue.

Your skin grew damp with sweat, a light sheen covering your chest and stomach, nipples tightened into painful peaks, aching in the cool air. Your hips rolled and twitched against his face, thighs trembling as they tried to close around his head only to fall open wider again.

Your breathing turned into soft, broken whimpers that even you could tell sounded strained and uncertain. Dean noticed and slowed his movements but didn’t yet stop, still fucking you gently with his tongue, still licking up every drop of your arousal like he couldn’t get enough.

“Mngh…Dean–” you barely managed, his name catching on a shaky breath before your voice gave out entirely. His head lifted rapidly as he pulled away, concern replacing concentration as he searched your expression for any hint of discomfort. Every trace of certainty vanished from his posture, his brows drawing together as he studied you.

One of your hands reached down blindly, grabbing at his shoulder and pulling him upward. Your chest heaved as you struggled to steady your breathing, each inhale feeling a little too shallow to quiet the thoughts racing through your mind. Words crowded against one another, half-formed confessions and old fears tangling together until you couldn't tell where one ended and the next began.

Your other hand shook as it slid down your body, covering your throbbing, soaked pussy, clit pulsing hard under your palm, slick, swollen and too painfully sensitive to keep going. You still weren’t anywhere close to coming and all you could think about was saying the wrong thing, about ruining the fragile safety he'd spent so much time building around you. More than anything, you were terrified of disgust, that subtle withdrawal, the excuses and the feeling of being left unfinished.

Your voice came out small and fragile. “I’m sorry. I’m–fuck, I’m so sorry.”

His hand found your cheek, palm warm against your skin as his thumb brushed slowly beneath the blindfold. He studied your face in silence first, as though making sure you were really listening before he spoke and when he did, there wasn't an ounce of frustration in him. “You don't apologize,” he said firmly, thumb stroking gently across your cheek once more before coming to rest beneath your jaw, encouraging you to keep your chin up. “Not to me.”

One hand stayed wrapped tightly around his arm, fingers digging into the firm muscle as if you were afraid he might pull away despite his words. Your heart hammered so loudly in your ears that you barely registered his words at first. “It just takes really long–”

“Hey…” Dean nudged your face gently with his palm, guiding you back to the present until your racing thoughts quieted. “I would’ve sucked you clean off the bone if you hadn’t pulled me up,” he smiled.

The moment you registered his words, you let out a shaky sob that melted into soft laughter, the tension in your chest finally easing.

“We can try again some other time if you want–”

You were already eagerly nodding before the words had fully left his mouth.

He chuckled, the sound low and breathy against your skin. “Yeah? Did you like it? Was that okay?” His fingertips traced feather-light paths along your sides, your ribs and the curve of your waist, keeping the connection gentle but constant, which he knew you needed.

“Overwhelming,” you breathed, still feeling the lingering slick between your thighs as it cooled and the heavy pulse of your swollen clit against your palm.

“Mmm…Yeah?” His voice dipped with interest.

“Overwhelming’s good,” you continued softly. Your body felt flushed and sensitive all over, like it needed that intensity just to begin learning how to let go. “I like feeling you close.”

“How close?” he teased, his nose brushing slowly along the side of your jaw, warm breath tickling your skin.

“Really fucking close,” you whispered, guiding his face until his lips met yours in a deep, slow kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue, tangy, slightly sweet and undeniably intimate, nothing like you had imagined. Dean moved his tongue against yours with the same patience he had shown between your legs, licking into your mouth with quiet groans of pleasure that vibrated through your chest.

“Tastes like fucking heaven,” he rasped when you finally parted for air.

Your nails dug into his shoulders as you pulled him closer, until your chests pressed together, skin hot and slightly damp with sweat as the hard length of his cock rested heavily against the soft inside of your thigh, twitching every time you moved.

You smiled against his lips, letting out a teasingly doubtful hum. “Careful there…might be disappointed when you go.”

“Doubt it. If there is one, you’re going there too.” The smug happiness in his voice made you laugh, the sound light and breathless. He responded by pressing a flurry of soft kisses all over your face, cheeks, nose, forehead and the corner of your mouth, while his cock dragged teasingly along your inner thighs, leaving a faint trail of precum on your skin.

Your laughter quickly faded into quiet, needy moans, inciting your own hand to apply pressure against your still-throbbing pussy, fingers slipping through the mess of slick there in an attempt to relieve the area. Dean lifted his upper body slightly, looking down between you as he stilled the accidental roll of his hips and you moaned again at the loss of friction.

“I could get closer,” he breathed, voice rough with want. “Want me to do that?”

Your legs parted wider in silent invitation as you nodded against the pillow, heart racing.

“Let me see you,” he spoke softly. It wasn't a command, more of a gentle suggestion, one he waited patiently for you to consider. You slowly moved your hand away, exposing your glistening, swollen pussy to him once more while you tried to picture the expression on his face, the way his eyes would darken with hunger and affection. “Do you have condoms?” he asked carefully.

“Closer, Dean,” you echoed, voice small but sure. “I want you as close as you can get right now.” You paused, ears straining for any change in his breathing. “I’ve never…” You trailed off, taking a deep, steadying breath. “I’m clean. I take my birth control–”

“Me neither.” His forehead dropped against yours, breath warm on your lips. “I just want you to be sure.”

You swallowed, nodding as your hands roamed up and down his arms and across his broad shoulders, feeling the tension and warmth of his muscles. His pulse jumped under your touch. “I would want it to be with you,” you confessed, bare and vulnerable.

He went still above you, the words knocking something loose. “I've always wanted it to be with you,” he breathed, the honesty in his voice wrapping around you like a second skin.

With a deep, measured breath, he wrapped his hand around the thick base of his cock, stroking it once before pressing the blunt, leaking head right against your slick entrance. Hovering over you, he braced his forearm beside your head, eyes remaining locked on your face as he pushed in leisurely until he sank deep in one long, continuous thrust.

Both of you moaned openly, lips falling slack at the intense sensation. He filled you completely, stretching your walls around his girthy length, stealing the breath right from your lungs. At the same moment, he reached up and gently tugged the blindfold away, letting you finally see him, your eyes glassy with overwhelmed tears as they met his, the eye contact undoing you more than the fullness between your legs.

You whimpered, voice breathless. “I hate that you might be right.”

“About?” he chuckled softly, staying buried to the hilt while he gave you time to adjust, eyes tracing over your face like he was trying to memorize it.

“Thinking highly of your dick…” You swallowed hard, your pussy fluttering and clenching around the solid invasion. “It sure is there.”

“Focus on it then,” he grinned, that cocky yet tender expression making your chest tighten. His gaze dropped to your lips, then back up as though he couldn't settle on one place to look.

“Not much else I can do,” you admitted, voice shaky, the words barely making it out whole.

Dean leaned down, catching your mouth with his, searching and wanting to swallow the shakiness right out of you. Only when you softened against him did he begin to move, shallow at first, drawing back only a few inches before sliding back in, letting you feel every inch of him dragging along your sensitive inner walls. Each time he bottomed out, his pelvis pressed firmly against your clit, sending sparks of sharp pleasure through you. Your body rocked beneath him with every careful thrust, the wet, intimate sound of your joined bodies filling the room alongside your shared breathing.

“Talk to me,” he murmured, eyes never leaving your face as he kept an unhurried pace, rolling into you repeatedly. He watched for every flicker, every little crease between your brows and twitch at the corner of your mouth, searching for the exact angle and depth that made your expression soften with bliss instead of tension. “What’s on your mind?”

“You,” you answered immediately, the most honest thing you could say.

His smile deepened with satisfaction but he wanted more than what was at the surface, what he knew you thought he wanted to hear. His thumbs brushed tenderly across your temples, easing your mind. “What’s around it?”

“How…” A moan interrupted you as he rolled his hips just right, cock stroking a spot inside you that made your toes curl. “Just how much I’ll want you to believe me when I say this was good…once it’s over. I know it will be.” Your breathing came in heavy pants now, chest rising and falling against his. “Even when…when I won’t–”

“If,” he corrected gently but firmly, still thrusting steadily as the head of his cock dragged deliciously along your walls on every withdrawal, then pushed back in deep. “That’s if you don’t.” He paused, “Listen to me, I don’t think there’s anything you’d tell me that I wouldn’t believe.”

“Well…I need you to be sure,” you pressed, blinking rapidly to keep the tears from spilling. Vulnerability sat raw in your throat, each word feeling like it cost you something you couldn't get back. Your nails dug crescents into his sides, holding on like he might disappear the second you finished the thought. “Please, be sure.”

“Certain,” he nodded, then leaned down closer, forehead nearly touching yours, eyes locked so you could see the sincerity burning there. “I’m right here with you, now and after this.”

He maintained the thrusts long and measured, pulling almost all the way out until only the swollen head remained inside you, letting you feel the stretch as he sank back in again, its slick glide was audible with every meeting of your bodies. Sweat beaded along his collarbone and dripped onto your chest as he held himself above you, muscles flexing with control.

His pelvis kissed your clit on every downstroke, rubbing in slow circles when he stayed buried deep, grinding the sensitive bundle of nerves until your thighs trembled around his hips.

When your brows creased a little too tightly, he adjusted the angle, tilting his hips until the sensation smoothed your expression again. He watched your eyes and mouth, learning your body in real time, focused entirely on making this feel safe and good rather than chasing his own end, he simply wanted to be connected to you.

Your walls hugged him tightly, fluttering with every push, your wetness coating his shaft and easing each deep slide while you could feel the way his cock throbbed inside you, the subtle twitch it gave when you clenched around him. He drew his cock back slowly so you could feel every ridge and vein dragging along your inner walls before sinking back in.

Your breath hitched sharply, as if that alone told him everything he needed to know, he repeated the motion, slower this time letting you feel the full drag and press of him. He pulled out almost completely on the next stroke, just the swollen tip resting inside you, before sliding back in with one smooth thrust that forced a whimper from your throat, strokes that let you savor the way your pussy stretched around his thickness, the way your walls fluttered and clenched trying to keep him inside.

Your hands roamed his back, nails lightly scoring his skin as another deep thrust made your feet arch and when your brows drew together in concentration, he moved again, tilting his hips, changing the depth. Near the end of a dragging stroke, he reached down and hooked one hand behind your knee. He lifted your leg slowly, draping it over his hip and higher along his side, opening you up further, the new angle letting him press deeper. He rolled his hips upward on the next thrust, driving his cock into you with a smooth, upward grind that rubbed directly against a spongy pillow inside while his pelvis continued to crush against your clit.

Your whole body reacted at once, back arching hard as a broken moan spilled from your lips.

“Right there, mmh?” he cooed, voice low and warm, repeating the exact same rolling motion. “Try that for a bit?”

You nodded quickly, eyes falling shut as you surrendered to the sensation. His cock stroked along that perfect angle with every upward push, the head pressing right where you needed it most, pussy clenching tightly around him and soaking his cock even more with every grind.

Dean kept watching you, even as your eyes stayed closed. He studied the way your head tilted back against the pillow, the rapid rise and fall of your chest, the way your lips trembled on every moan. He adjusted the angle of his hips in tiny increments, searching for the rhythm that would keep those creases of wonder on your face. The emotional weight of his attention made your throat tight, he wasn't just fucking you, he was tuned in completely, making sure you felt safe and cherished in every stroke.

“M–middle,” you moaned, voice breaking on the word.

Dean adjusted accordingly, angling his cock exactly where you needed him but before he could even settle into the new position, a raw, wanton moan tore from your throat and your back arched sharply off the bed as your eyes opened.

“Breathe,” he instructed gently, locking eyes with you and giving a slow, reassuring nod. His thumb brushed over your parted lips. “Breathe,” he repeated, “Focus on what you know.”

He kept moving in that centered, precise rhythm, strokes that dragged his thick cock along the same devastating path inside you.

“Mmpppff,” Your eyes fluttered shut as the pleasure built higher, one hand dug into his shoulder, nails biting into his skin while you struggled to draw full breaths. You tried to focus only on the slick drag of his cock entering and leaving your pussy, the way your walls stretched and clenched around his girth, the constant wet sounds of your bodies meeting.

“There you go. That's it,” he husked, bending lower to press a soft kiss to each of your closed eyelids. The new angle drove him even deeper, he pressed forward, settling his weight fully over you and nudging his face into the crook of your neck. Your moans became continuous, loud and broken, spilling from your open mouth without pause.

Dean groaned against your neck, low and desperate sounds vibrating through your skin and making you even hornier. His own unfiltered whimpers and heavy breathing mixed with yours as the position allowed you to breathe him in, sweat, skin and sex, chest heaving beneath his weight.

For several thrusts, no sound came out of you at all. Your mouth hung open in a silent cry, breath caught somewhere between your chest and your throat, refusing to let go. The pressure inside you coiled tighter than you'd ever known, winding higher with every drag of him, every muscle in your body drawn taut and ready to snap.

It was new, unfamiliar with an edge of fear threading through it, a building intensity you had no name for or memory to compare it to. Your fingers curled hard into his shoulder, keeping yourself against a feeling that seemed too big for your body to hold.

A sudden, sharp gasp tore from your lungs, followed immediately by a sob that shook your entire frame. The orgasm crashed over you, deep, vaginal and violently intense, unlike anything you'd known your body capable of. Your pussy clamped down hard around his cock in rhythmic contractions that squeezed him in waves as pure ecstasy ripped through you. For one disorienting second you didn't know whether to cry or laugh, caught between the shock of it and the sheer relief of finally breaking. You sobbed openly, tears spilling down your temples and into your hair, a startled laugh bubbling up right alongside them.

“Mmhnhgh…fuck, fuck, fuck!” you cried, voice wrecked and trembling as the pleasure kept rolling through you in devastating pulses. Your walls fluttered and pulsed wildly around his thrusting cock, soaking him even more.

Dean groaned deeply at the sensation, his hips stuttering for a moment before he forced himself to keep moving, drawing out every last tremor of your orgasm. A quiet laugh escaped him, disbelieving and reverent, the sound punched loose from his chest before he could stop it. He stared down at you, eyes wide, drinking in the sight of your face gone soft and open, tears streaking your temples and lips parted around broken breaths. You looked undone in the most beautiful way he'd ever seen and for a second his vision blurred, his head going light with it.

He blinked hard, jaw tight, willing himself to hold it together as your walls kept squeezing him greedily, refusing to let him go.

He fucked you through it with careful, deep strokes, prolonging the pleasure until your body trembled beneath him. You felt impossibly wet, your arousal and his precum mixing and leaking out around his cock with every thrust.

The first orgasm had barely begun to fade when his pelvis ground harder against your swollen clit with each rolling thrust. The added stimulation pushed you straight into a second, clitoral orgasm that blindsided you, entirely different from the first and brighter too now as many sensations arrived all at once for your mind to sort through. Your thigh quivered violently against his side as bright pleasure exploded outward from your clit, blending with the deep, pulsing contractions still rippling through your core. You cried out again, fresh tears streaming down your face as the dual sensations overwhelmed every nerve in your body.

Your vision whited out for several seconds, your entire body locking up and then shaking apart in his arms. Sobs mixed with desperate moans as wave after wave rolled through you, leaving you raw and shattered in the best possible way.

Dean bent down and kissed away your tears, the salt of it lingering on his lips. “That's how you're supposed to feel,” he hushed against your temple, voice rough with awe and restraint.

“Nnngh, can’t–” you managed, lips parted, chasing words that wouldn't come.

“I know, I know,” he soothed, voice thick. “Gotta let it happen.”

Dean kept thrusting for as long as he could, fucking you through the tail end of your orgasms. His hips snapped forward a few more times, chasing his own release, less controlled than anything he'd let himself be before.

With a wanton whimper, he buried himself to the hilt and came hard, harder than he ever remembered coming, raw and unguarded, shaking with the force of it. Thick, warm pulses of his cum spilled deep inside you, flooding your pussy with heat that made you shudder, your oversensitive body twitching around him as his cock throbbed and jerked against your walls.

He stayed inside you, breathing heavily against your neck, neither of you speaking and just letting the last tremors settle.

After a moment he pulled back reluctantly, until there was just room between your bodies for both of you to look down and watch. He gave a few shallow, unhurried thrusts, fucking his cum deeper into you, the creamy mixture leaking out around his cock with every small movement. You were both transfixed by the filthy, intimate sight, watching each slow slide, neither of you willing to look away until his cock finally stopped twitching.

With one final thrust he stilled completely, buried deep inside you and let his forehead drop to your shoulder.

Neither of you moved.

The room went quiet except for your shared, rasped breathing and underneath it, the faint hitch of his breath catching, over and over in quiet little hiccups he couldn't smooth out no matter how he tried. You ran your hands slowly up and down his back, soothing the tremor still running through him and caught the small, wet sniffle against your skin, proof that he'd cried too, that this had undone him just as much as it had undone you.

You finally felt like you could breathe again. Every muscle in your body went limp as you melted into the mattress, utterly spent, tears still drying on your cheeks and Dean's warm weight pressing you down in the most comforting way possible.

You kissed while stubbornly blinking back tears, holding yourselves together until you simply couldn't anymore. Time dissolved into something shapeless, measured only by slow breaths, racing hearts and bodies pressed together. The sheets twisted around your limbs and for the first time, your body didn't feel like something you had to apologize for.

When Dean finally moved, he did it with an achingly slow pace. He kissed you deeply, tongue dancing with yours while he began to pull out, as though the press of his lips could somehow stop the inevitable. You whimpered softly into his mouth at the feeling, his thick cock sliding from your sensitive, cum-filled pussy in one continuous, wet glide.

A thick trickle of your shared release followed, leaking slowly down your folds and onto the sheets. The sudden emptiness left you aching and strangely bereft, even as his tongue continued to stroke gently against yours through the loss.

Whatever this was afterward, it was unlike anything you'd ever experienced.

“Stay right here,” he murmured against your lips once they parted.

Dean eased himself out of bed shortly to start the shower, testing the water with the back of his hand until the temperature was just right before returning for you. He wrapped an arm around your waist and picked you up bridal style, carrying you into the bathroom and taking your weight without making you feel incapable.

Then guided you beneath the warm stream. Steam gradually filled the room while he took his time cleaning you, soapy hands moving with care over every inch of your skin, washing away sweat and the evidence of your shared pleasure, pausing every so often to brush a kiss against your shoulders, the back of your neck, the curve of your spine, or inside of your wrist.

He slipped away for a moment with a parting kiss, only to strip the bed and remake it with fresh sheets before returning the instant he heard the water stop.

You couldn't help but stare as he stepped into the bathroom doorway. A clean towel was already waiting in his hands, along with clean underwear and a pair of pajamas he'd unearthed from your dresser, and with obvious satisfaction, one of the hoodies he'd been insisting had mysteriously disappeared months ago.

Another towel hung dangerously low on his own hips, barely clinging to the sharp cut of his pelvis. Droplets of water still clung to his skin, tracing slow paths down the defined lines of his abs and the deep V that disappeared beneath the towel. The sight made your breath catch all over again, his body glistening, relaxed and impossibly attractive in the soft bathroom light.

Dean noticed your gaze and gave you a small, knowing smirk but said nothing. He set the clothes aside and got to work, drying your skin carefully section by section, working moisturizer into every inch of you with soothing strokes and helping you into the soft fabric of your clean underwear and pajamas. Then he carried you back to the freshly made bed despite your quiet insistence that you could walk.

After fluffing your pillows and tucking the blankets around you, he finally took a moment to dry himself off and pull on his boxers. Only then did he return to your bedside, lean down and press a gentle kiss to the crown of your head before lingering there for a moment, as though reassuring himself that you were comfortable and finally at peace.

“I'll go raid your cabinets for something to eat,” he said quietly, palm moving slowly over your hair in absent, soothing strokes as he looked down at you. His thumb brushed lightly against your temple before his hand slipped away.

It was far too late to order food and even if somewhere nearby was still open, you doubted you had the energy for anything more substantial than a few bites. A tired smile tugged at your lips as you gave him a small nod but the moment he stepped away from the bed, your chest tightened unexpectedly, eyes following him across the room as though distance alone suddenly felt wrong.

Dean noticed the movement out of the corner of his eye but kept walking toward the bedroom door. “If you hear something heavy drop,” he said over his shoulder, a teasing grin returning now that the weight of the evening had begun to lighten, “that's probably just me hiding from Hannah and Allie if it comes down to it.”

A quiet chuckle escaped you as you turned your head toward the clock resting on your bedside table, the glowing numbers confirming just how late it had become. “Doubt they'll be back tonight,” you murmured, your voice rough with exhaustion.

Dean paused with one hand resting against the doorframe. Instead of leaving, he turned back to look at you properly. His teasing expression faded as he searched your face, trying to read what you needed without making assumptions but he knew tonight had been overwhelming in more ways than one. Maybe you wanted to be alone now, to untangle your thoughts in private before either of you tried putting words to everything that had changed between you.

He wouldn't force that conversation tonight if you weren't ready. “I can go,” he relented, the offer sincere enough that you knew he'd leave without hesitation if that was what you wanted.

Your hands fidgeted restlessly with the edge of the blanket gathered over your lap, smoothing wrinkles before twisting the fabric between your fingers again. You gave the smallest shake of your head, so slight it was nearly impossible to notice.

“I'd rather you didn't.” The words came out quietly. Your gaze drifted away from him, settling instead on the dark window across the room where your reflection stared back faintly against the glass.

You drew in a slow, steadying breath. If there was ever such a thing as good timing, you doubted either of you had managed to stumble across it tonight, then again, maybe there never would've been a perfect moment for this. All you knew was that you were tired of keeping parts of yourself hidden from him.

Dean remained exactly where he was. He didn't move closer, didn't interrupt or rush to fill the silence stretching between you.

“I think I love you,” you admitted at last, it felt strangely fragile once spoken.

Your eyes finally lifted to meet his as you blinked quickly, trying to keep the fresh sting of tears from spilling over, you'd already cried enough for one night.

Dean's expression didn't morph into surprise. Instead, he nodded once, his head tilting and his answer arriving with a tenderness that marked you more than if he'd been shocked. “I know that.”

A breathy laugh escaped you, your head shaking as you smiled weakly. You should've known he’d say that. The two of you had said those words before, they'd existed between you for years in birthday cards, sleepy phone calls, goodbye hugs and reassurances before exams or after bad days, less frequently as you'd grown older, perhaps but they had never truly disappeared.

This was different, though, you'd hoped he'd hear it in your voice. “No…not like that.” You swallowed, clearing your throat before trying again. “The…the other way.” The confession sat awkwardly on your tongue, still too new to fit comfortably. “It's probably going to take me a while to figure out that one too.” You let out a self-conscious laugh that barely qualified as one. “I just thought…I'd give you a heads-up.” Your fingers tightened around the blanket. “In case…you have time to stick around for that too.”

Your eyes dropped back to your hands, unable to bear watching disappointment if it appeared.

For a long second, the room remained perfectly still, then Dean smiled. It was far from the teasing grin he wore so effortlessly, a smile touched with years of memories only the two of you shared.

“I know, baby,” he ventured.

His fingertips tapped absently against the doorframe as scenes from years ago drifted through his mind of the two of you, younger and convinced you were being impossibly sneaky, sitting shoulder to shoulder in playgrounds you'd long since outgrown after the sun had gone down, hiding behind climbing frames and plastic tunnels simply because they gave you somewhere to be alone together.

Memories of fingers laced together in the dark, shared laughter muffled into sleeves and the first time your mouths had met almost by accident, followed by another and another, both of you pretending each one had been just as thoughtless as the last since acknowledging it felt far more frightening than simply letting it happen again.

“I never thought we'd grow out of it,” he admitted, his eyes never leaving yours. “You've never been an enigma to me…Of course, I have time,” he murmured. “I've loved you for as long as I can remember. For you, I’ve always had time.”

He smiled softly and everything inside you slid into place.

Oh, love. The nostalgia returned with childlike wonder. How long had it been waiting for you to find your way back to the playground?

a/n: Comments, likes and reblogs really do mean the world and help more than you know! More stories will be added to the archive soon, so stay tuned for new content. Thank you so much for reading! 🤍

You sat across from the fire pit in the boys’ backyard, elbows resting on the armrests of your chair while the flames cracked softly in front of you both. The night air had turned colder hours ago, but neither of you had gone inside. Dean kept talking and you kept letting him or trying to.

Every time he opened his mouth, you exhaled slowly through your nose as if physically releasing air might stop you from interrupting him.

“He’s an arrogant son of a bitch,” Dean repeated for probably the fifth time that night. He took another drag from the blunt before passing it toward you, smoke curling past his lips as he leaned back deeper into the chair.

“That’s what pisses me off the most,” he continued, staring hard into the fire like your ex-boyfriend personally offended him. “He had no clue what he was doing in the relationship from day one and still had the confidence to ask you out.” His jaw tightened slightly. “Usually I respect delusion like that, but that guy’s a fucking disaster.”

You accepted the blunt with a quiet sigh.

Dean had been ranting for nearly a week straight now. Anyone overhearing him would’ve assumed he’d been the one publicly dumped in the cafeteria instead of you but he’d been there when it happened, front row seats to your ex fumbling through excuses while half your friends sat frozen around the table pretending not to listen. Maybe that was enough for Dean.

Now, instead of being out partying with the rest of the team, he sat outside with you night after night, sharing weed and acting personally victimized by your breakup.

“Dean,” you finally interrupted, tone firm.

He stopped talking immediately.

You inhaled slowly before looking over at him through the smoke, holding his gaze while you exhaled. “It’s okay.”

Dean’s expression flattened instantly. “We have very different definitions of okay.”

His eyes drifted back toward the fire for a second, replaying the memory again. You could practically see it happening behind his eyes, the cafeteria, your expression and your ex stumbling through his speech.

“You should’ve let me talk to him,” he muttered.

“What good would that have done?” You brought the blunt back to your lips, inhaling before handing it over again. “It’s not his fault.”

Dean’s head snapped toward you so fast he nearly dropped the thing. “The fuck does that mean?”

You almost rolled your eyes at the offense in his tone. Instead, you looked away toward the fire again, watching orange light flicker against the patio stones.

“I’m lost here,” he scoffed. “Is being wrapped around another girl at a party three hours after dumping you not a dick move now?”

A laugh slipped out of you before you could stop it. “Dean,” you said gently, finally turning your head toward him again. “I think I’m the only person who wasn’t surprised by the breakup.”

His brows furrowed.

You shrugged one shoulder lightly. “He just beat me to it.”

“Oh.” The word left him quietly. Dean looked away immediately afterward, dragging a hand over his mouth while he gathered his thoughts before glancing back at you. “That’s the first time I’m hearing about that.”

He passed the blunt over again.

You took it carefully, staring down at it between your fingers for a second before answering.

“Yeah, well...” You inhaled deeply, smoke burning pleasantly in your lungs before you let it back out slowly. “You’ve got other business to worry about.”

Dean huffed out a laugh instantly. “You are my business.” The certainty in his voice made your lips curl before you could stop them. “So start talking.”

He always did that. Dean had this way of making honesty feel inevitable. The two of you talked about everything, always had. He knew things about you your closest friends didn’t. Hell, he’d bought condoms for you the first time you planned on sleeping with someone because you’d been too embarrassed to walk into the store yourself.

You moved deeper into the chair, pulling one leg beneath you while you searched carefully for the right words. “Um…” You inhaled again, then blurted it out before your brain could stop you. “I suck at the sex thing.”

Dean’s face twisted immediately in disagreement as you passed the blunt. “Bullshit.”

You laughed softly. “No, seriously. I do.” You rubbed awkwardly at your neck before continuing. “Turns out not being able to cum eventually becomes an issue when your partner realizes you never actually have with them.”

Dean’s expression changed instantly. Every conversation you’d ever had about sex clearly started replaying in his head at once because confusion hit him violently.

“But you told me–”

“I lied.” The words came out easier than expected. You shrugged lightly, though your stomach still tightened. “I’ve been lying for years...Faking it until I got tired of faking it and started bruising egos.” A humorless smile tugged briefly at your mouth. “Including mine.”

Dean stayed quiet now so you stared into the fire instead.

“I just…” You exhaled slowly. “I don’t think sex is really my thing.” Your shoulders lifted. “I like the idea of it. I enjoy parts of it…but everyone talks about this huge explosive ending and I just…” You shook your head. “Don’t get there…naturally people stop believing you when you say it was still good.”

Dean watched you carefully. “Was it?”

“The sex?” You let the silence drag for a second before shrugging again. “I think so.” Your lips twitched faintly. “It was good enough to build better stories around afterward.”

Dean stopped smoking entirely after that. The blunt burned slowly between his fingers while he stared down at it, suddenly looking far more sober than either of you probably were. He looked like he was trying to organize his thoughts before speaking again.

“How about alone?” The question came softly, carefully.

If you didn’t know him so well, you might’ve mistaken the look on his face for pity. Thankfully, you did know him, which meant you recognized concern immediately.

You shook your head slowly. “That’s why I’m saying it’s not his fault.”