#6.8

“Stop that,” he grunted. She finally looked up at him and raised a brow, her eyes mostly mischievous rather than angry. He placed his duffle bag down on the table next to her scattered papers, their eyes locked on each other’s — asserting dominance.

“Stop this?” She asked, her thumb sliding along the spinning shark head so that the whir continued, and he clenched his jaw at her, his eyes narrowing at her calm face.

His eyes travelled over her beautiful face, analysing the warmth of her dilated eyes, to the blush on her cheeks, and the way her chest was rising a little faster than normal. He reached over and wrapped his fingers around hers to stop her and she blinked at him, an innocent smile tugging at her rosy lips, her eyes becoming wide like a little deer.

“Stop saying Crowley’s my lover,” he told her, his voice deep and threatening. He could read the playfulness in her eyes, the challenge as she lifted her chin just slightly, a smirk growing on her kissable lips now that she knew she had him trapped.

“Give me my pen,” she said calmly, tugging gently under his warm, thick fingers, but he only tightened his grip. She completely ignored him when he refused, turning away to read the newspaper, her hand still trying to pull out of his electric hold. “I dreamt about you and woke up dripping wet, which was nice,” she said nonchalantly, pretending to be distracted as she read the obituary of some old lady.

He blinked down at her, his fingers squeezing her hand which made her eyebrows rise, but she moved her attention to another boxed article instead of reacting. Still, a smile tugged at her lips and her breaths got quicker, like his, she noticed. “Kinda disappointing that you were too busy fucking around with Crowley to take care of that for me, had to take matters into my own... hands.”

He let go of her warm hand and she acted casually, as if she hadn’t just admitted to masturbating earlier today in their shared bed. Her pen touched the paper to circle something interesting and he growled her name softly at her irritating behaviour. She bit her lip to stop herself from laughing.

“Can I help you?” She asked, looking up at him innocently. Her eyes examined his face now, moving from his angry, creased eyebrows, to his green eyes, now clouded with lust and annoyance. Breaths were shallowly escaping from his beautiful nose, his lips were wet with his saliva and pink from biting them. She licked her own at the sight of their puffy state, and bit her lip at his stubble, remembering the tickle of the coarse little hairs of his jaw between her thighs.

She squeezed her legs instinctively when her cunt began to feel the echoes of pleasure from his tongue. Her eyes fluttered back up to his and she smiled sweetly, leaning forward to catch his lips in a kiss quicker than he could react, then she pulled away just as he was melting into it.

“I’m gonna shower now that I know you’re safe.” She put her pen down and he stood there, speechless, watching her fold the newspaper. “You know, since you were too entertained with your new friend to call or text to let me know you’re fine, or coming home late, at least.” She neatly organised her papers and he glared at her, his face hot with arousal and frustration. “You can join me, if you’d like, unless you already did that with Crowley. too,” She stood up, taking her cardigan off the chair, and finally looked up at his locked jaw. A grin spread over her lips and she made her way past him for only a few inches before he grabbed her arm firmly to stop her.

“You’re getting on my nerves,” he told her, his hot voice thick with desire and irritation. She turned around to face him and narrowed her eyes at him despite the warmth that pooled between her legs.

“You’re getting on mine,” she whispered, weakly tugging away from him. He grasped her tighter, then pulled her forward until she was pressed against his firm and warm body.

“Sit. Down,” he whispered harshly. When she didn’t listen, he manhandled her until she was turned around, and kicked the chair out with his foot for her to sit in. “Sit.”

She huffed out a defiant breath, pulling her arm out of his grip, “No.”

“Have it your way,” he growled, taking cuffs with etchings on it out of his black jacket. She looked at his face, incredulous as he took her forearm in his large hand to slap one cuff around her wrist and the other to the chair. “Sit,” he ordered, snatching the cardigan from her to drop over his duffle bag. When she didn’t listen, he gripped her shoulder tightly and he pushed her down until she plopped down on the wooden chair. She pouted at the cuffs and then glared up at him.

“You know, I can easily get out of these,” she informed him, tugging halfheartedly at the cold metal that bound her to the chair.

“So why don’t you?” He smirked, his hand gently wrapping around her throat. She instinctively circled his wrist with her free hand and he moved his to grasp the soft locks at her nape instead.

“I like this chair,” she shrugged, letting him pull her hair to force her head to tip back. He hummed softly, smirking when she hissed at the slight sting in her scalp, leaning forward to peck her lips once. He groaned softly at the spark-like feeling that covered his mouth when it immediately made contact with hers, like stardust scattering over his lips as they brushed against hers.

“Where’s Sam?” He asked softly when he let her hair go. She settled into the chair, watching him lean back to remove his jacket while biting her lip.

“Sleeping,” she replied tonelessly. She stared at his athletic body, entranced by the way he slowly slipped his indigo flannel off to be folded haphazardly over the table with his jacket. He sat on the table and grinned at her, lifting his foot between her slightly parted legs, he slowly undid the knot of his laces and then did the same to the other boot. They fell loudly on the wooden floor when he kicked them off, revealing some adorable banana socks that made her smile softly.

When she lifted her gaze up to his face, she shamelessly admired his body in the black t-shirt, the way it stretched over his chest and broad shoulders, the short sleeves exposing the muscles of his freckled arms. He was gorgeous. More importantly, he was hard. She dropped her eyes between his legs, his crotch practically right in front of her, and she cocked an eyebrow at the tent in his tight jeans. God, they did wonders for his fantastic ass.

She tugged at the cuffs, wanting to free herself of them. He looked down at her wrist and then raised an eyebrow at her. “What?” He asked innocently, using one hand to undo his belt, the other moved one of her rebellious strands of hair into place. She stared at his busy hand, her eyes glittering with excitement the way they always did with his adept skill of being able to remove his belt one-handedly rather fast. She didn’t know if she wanted to squeeze her legs together or spread them apart farther for him. “You’re so quiet,” he murmured, then he slid the belt out of his jean’s loops.

“Is there something you wanna hear, Dean?” She grumbled, her free hand reaching over to palm at his cock over his jeans.

“F-fuck,” he groaned, staring down at her hand, allowing her to touch him just for a few moments. “No touching, you’ve been too annoying tonight,” he grunted. She pouted at him, squeezing his cock defiantly. He moaned, surprised. He took her wrist quickly and used his belt to tie her only freehand to the chair.

“Asshole,” she muttered under her breath.

He glared at her and she smiled at him sarcastically, tugging at his belt to test its tightness. The leather creaked with her movement and he grinned.

He unbuttoned his jeans and unzipped them, getting off the table to kick them off completely while looking at her to make sure she was not actually pissed at him. When she smiled at him distractedly, he removed his shirt and she licked her lips at the sight of his flat stomach and the v on his hips that led down to what she secretly wanted most, what was hidden beneath his black boxers. He had the tiniest waist too. Fuck, all those layers of clothes he wore didn’t do his gorgeous body any justice.

She was getting wetter and wetter by the second as she admired him like he was a worshipped sculpture in a museum, created by Michelangelo himself. Her body was slowly becoming warm like a spring sun and her heart was beating rapidly like the beat of a glorious song, excited to see him, to feel him, to get closer to him.

“Dean,” she said firmly. His cock jumped at the way she said his name and he looked at her face with his breath caught in his throat, and then his eyes dropped down to the creaking leather of his favourite belt and over to the clinking chains of the cuffs.

“Don’t you dare, sweetheart,” he warned her breathlessly.

She pursed her lips to stop herself from begging and she looked away from him, her eyes sticking to the blue journal Sam got her last Christmas. She didn’t want him to see the pleas in her eyes and she ignored him when he pulled his boxers down slowly. The creaking of leather, the small chains rattling, they gave her away, and she wanted to moan, to rub her thighs together, but she refused.

Her head snapped towards him when he pulled her chair she was sitting in closer to him. The wooden legs squeaked against the floor and she looked down to make sure no marks would be left behind. It would normally piss Dean off to see the wood ruined, but obviously, he could do what he wanted. She narrowed her eyes at him when she looked up at him.

Her gaze reluctantly flickered down to his cock. Even his dick was perfect, it was truly unfair. It stood erect, throbbing, pink, with mouth-watering beads of precum that made her insides quiver. She swallowed thickly and lifted her eyes back up to his stupid, smug face.

“I don’t like you right now,” she pouted, turning away from him.

He chuckled as he cupped her face and leaned down to kiss her. She kept her lips pressed together, refusing to kiss him back, and didn’t open up when his tongue swiped across the seam, silently asking for permission to enter.

He pulled away and contemplated her body language for a few moments. “Open up,” he told her darkly.

“No,” she pouted. He sighed dramatically, pushing himself off the table and she straightened up, squirming a little when he walked behind her. His fingertips gently brushed over her bare shoulders, the voltage of his touch igniting her skin like the neurons firing in her brain, and she shivered. He reached over for the hair band on the table that she had been playing with earlier and tied her hair into a messy ponytail.

She gripped the arms of the chair, panting a little when he stopped touching her. She could only feel the warmth of his breath against her neck, his nose ghosting along her jaw, and she licked her lips as they became dry with the air that slipped past her parted mouth. His lips brushed against her ear and she bit her lip, her spine tingling at the sensation of having him so close behind her without doing anything. She turned her face slightly to gaze at him and he forced her to look forward, his fingers harshly holding her jaw in place.

“Don’t,” his hushed voice warned.

He walked back around to face her, his eyes trailing over her body. He hummed softly as he looked at the cropped tube shirt she wore. The white, soft cotton covering her chest was convenient for easy removal down her body—like a skirt. And she was wearing a pink jean skirt. He got down on his knees and she blinked down at him, wiggling a little when his fingers undid the silver button at her waist.

“Up,” he told her, tugging the skirt down her hips and she did as she was told, this time. She lifted her hips up off the chair, letting him drag the skirt down her legs and off her completely. He left it with his jeans on the floor and started to pull down the shirt she was wearing that had a little pink heart at the centre. She was wearing a beige strapless bra underneath and he pouted at the sight of it. It made her break her stubborn and bratty character and she smiled at him with amusement.

He removed the shirt slowly, then reached behind her to unclasp the bra and he bit his lip at the sight of her round breasts, a hum of appreciation resounding in his chest. The sound made her shift a little in the chair, he noticed it, his ego absorbing the pleasure of knowing what the smallest things he did did to her.

Her beige panties were haphazardly hanging onto her hips from the amount of times he’d dragged clothes over them and the sight of them aroused him. “You like making things hard for me, don’t you?” He grabbed her knees and pushed them apart, then grabbed her hips and pulled them forward so her ass was barely on the chair.

“Not things,” she rolled her eyes, then very matter-of-factly said, “your cock.” She smiled innocently and he had to laugh. The sound made her eyes soften and she melted a little, a real smile spreading over her face like butter on warm pancakes.

“I don’t think I can keep you tied up for much longer,” he admitted, smiling lovingly at her. He looked away and hooked a finger under her panties to push them aside and look at her pussy.

“Well, sweetheart, I think I quite enjoy being tied up,” she told him offhandedly.

He hummed distractedly, “I can tell.”

He parted her wet folds with two fingers and she squirmed at the cool air of the room that hit her wetness and then his warm breath made her moan. She wanted to shut her legs out of sudden coyness, but his broad shoulders between her parted knees stopped her.

He suddenly flicked the tip of his tongue over her swollen clit and she gasped at the little spark of pleasure, her toes curling in her pink ankle boots. Her stomach fluttered and she looked down at him, catching his watchful gaze, and she blushed, her confidence slipping away as light travelling through vacuum space.

He noticed and smirked, nuzzling her thigh with his stubble, then kissing her pelvis. “Dean,” she whispered.

“Where’d my annoying, bratty, little girlfriend go?” He teased, then his mouth returned to her sex. He moved his tongue leisurely, tasting the arousal at her entrance with a moan, dragging his tongue through her folds, up to her clit, until she was panting heavily. He smirked, lazily continuing to massage the swollen little pearl before moving to her entrance again, just to taste her dripping juices. “You’re so wet,” he purred against her, his words muffled from him not moving away from her heat to speak.

“Shit,” she whispered, feeling conflicted on whether to stare at him or close her eyes with her head tipped back.

“Makes it real easy for my big cock to slip inside your tight.. hot.. needy little cunt.” She swallowed a moan, fidgeting with the discomfort of her arousal and the gradual attention he was giving her. He grabbed her ass, lifting it slightly off the chair, and thrusted his tongue into her entrance. Her breath hitched at the warmth inside her and she tightened around his tongue, struggling against the two different materials around her wrists that kept her bound to the chair.

He continued to plunge his tongue in and out of her, imitating the movement his cock made when he fucked her. She wanted to break out and pull his hair as she watched him, he looked too pretty and arrogant between her shaky legs. The sight of him looking at her through his beautiful, curled lashes while his nose nudged her clit made her whine, her face flushed and her skin sweaty from the intensity of his teasing.

He slipped his tongue inside her, pushing as deep as he could, and wiggled it inside her. “What the fuck?” She gasped, moaning out in surprise at the nice sensation. Then, she yelped when his tongue slipped out and he lapped at her asshole. No one had ever done that—and to be fair she did not have a long list of sex partners, there was only Dean in her list of people she’d had sex with, and he’d never done that before. “No!” She squealed, easily lowering her hips, then she pushed the chair away from him as he chuckled.

“You really don’t like that, huh?” He laughed and she smiled, shaking her head bashfully. “Okay, I’ll take note of that,” he murmured, then shuffled closer to her again. She slowly parted her thighs for him, her teeth digging into her lip, as he placed his mouth back on her sex. He parted her folds with two fingers and used his tongue to play with her clit, his tongue brushing between his fingers with each passive stroke of tongue, just to make her squirm again, and she giggled breathlessly.

“Dean,” she moaned. He pulled away at the sound and stood on his knees to kiss her. This time, she opened up to him readily. She didn’t care that he was smearing her arousal onto her lips, letting her taste herself on his tongue as it rolled against hers like soft waves. He dragged his two fingers down to her wet hole, slipping his middle finger inside, pushing in and out gradually. He swallowed her moan, pushing against her lips needily, until they were kissing desperately, wishing to somehow get closer.

“I’m just waiting for you to beg, angel,” he whispered against her lips. He added another finger inside her, scissoring them inside her to prepare her for his cock. His cock which ached and hardened at the feeling of her wetness trickling down his palm and knuckles.

“I don’t do that,” she whispered defiantly. He shook his head, keeping his lips close to hers, brushing like leaves on branches did to each other, their breaths tangling. She felt lightheaded with arousal and she just wanted to eat him up like a Leviathan or something. Wow, loving aggression.

“Suit yourself,” he told her quietly. He slipped his fingers out of her and stood up, using his wet fingers to stroke his painfully erect cock. He pressed his fingers against the throbbing veins of his cock, teasing himself, massaging just underneath the head of his cock, drawing out more precum from the slit. He used his thumb to gather it, then popped his finger into her mouth so she could taste him.

She felt a new wave of wetness exude from her cunt at the taste of him, her cheeks turning warmer, redder, when he cupped the back of her head and lined his cock up with her mouth. Her mouth watered and she willfully opened up for him, letting her hot mouth engulf his heavy cock.

She looked up at him, her eyes pretty, like her red lips that rimmed his cockhead. He moaned down at the sight of her, teasing himself, testing his patience as he pushed only the tip in and out of her mouth. Her tongue teased his slit, circling the frenulum, and lapping at the precum as she drooled around him.

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he praised, letting go of his cock, to push more of himself into her. She sucked at him, her tongue slithering along the bottom, moving her head back and forth, she let him guide her.

He dragged his fingers down to her chest, kneading her breasts, squeezing the warm flesh in his large hand. “I bet you’re all achy and wet, you little brat,” he growled, pushing himself all the way down her throat. She choked and made a surprised sound, her teeth brushing gently against his sensitive cock to warn him.

He hissed, pinching her nipple roughly so her throat constricted around him to stop noise from coming out, and he moaned at the feeling. He chuckled at her glare, feeling her knees try to close around his legs as he stood between them. He moaned softly again, pushing in and out of her throat roughly, her throat made obscene sounds as he fucked her face, and he stopped when he felt his orgasm approaching.

Her pretty eyes were tearing up, glassy with tears, her long lashes sticking together from a few tears that were falling from his relentless throat fucking, but she didn’t mind. He brought his hand to her reddened cheek, caressing her hot face, and brushing tears away, losing himself in his lust all at once.

He mercifully unlocked the cuffs from around her wrist and he kissed her deeply. She pulled her mouth away from him and he just stared---a gasp escaping him---as she swiftly used one hand to remove his belt from her wrist. It was faster than his brain could keep up with and before he knew it, she was pushing him into the table, her hand wrapping around his cock to stroke him quickly while her other hand moved to his nape to bring his mouth down to hers again.

He moaned loudly, shamelessly throwing his head back, abandoning her mouth as his lips parted to verbalise his pleasure. “God, I wanna make you cum like this,” she told him quietly.

“I have other plans,” he moaned. Y/N bit her lip as he spoke, her eyes sparkling with love and amusement when he looked down at her. “They involve you, only you,” he whispered and then tensed up, about to cum.

He turned them around so that she could sit on the table, easily hoisting her up with his hands on the curve of her waist, forcing her to let go of his cock all at once. He breathed shakily as his cock twitched, aching and longing to spill at last, inside her or on her heated skin. He groped her sides lovingly, worshipping her body with his big hands, squeezing the fleshy parts until he felt like he could continue without cumming in five seconds.

They both breathed heavily, their skins charged with electricity and sweaty from the heat of their aroused state. She admired him quietly, the flex in his muscles from his effort to regain control and his composure. His touch took her breath away, like his gentle kisses along her fiery skin. She didn’t want to look away from him, or stop touching him either as he mouthed at her neck and bit at her collarbones. His sharp teeth dragging along with his tongue to taste her sweat and the natural flavour of her skin beneath the sheen. His plump lips suctioned at her body, leaving behind territorial marks that he licked at while she dug her nails into his strong body.

He felt weak in the knees holding her. Felt like giving into the intoxicating urge to fuck her with abandon when he heard the soft sounds she made when he touched her, when she pulled at his hair and made him grunt. When she squirmed and dropped her forehead on his shoulder, her chest rising and falling unevenly with stuttered breaths. He made his path down to her breasts. His teeth scraped at her nipples, sucking at the tight buds as she arched into him, inviting him to give her more. He moaned softly, dragging his mouth back up to her face and dropping messy kisses along her jaw until his lips were ghosting over hers.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

She blinked at him, dazed with his love, her mind hazy with thoughts only of him. She held his face in her hands, confused. She didn’t stay confused much longer because he kissed her. The kiss was slow and breathy which made it even hotter. It was the way he panted against her parted lips when he pulled away—just a few millimetres, just for a millisecond, then lazily pulled her close, cupping the back of her head with one of his hands and slipped his tongue back into her mouth.

He held her waist with his other hand, pulling her closer to the edge of the table, moving himself as close as he could between her parted legs, until his hot cock was touching her warm skin. She gave him control of the kiss, melted into him as his velvety tongue swiped over hers, exploring all of her, feeling the familiar space he’d tasted many times before, until he changed the kiss again.

He pecked her lips once they’d closed up a little, and pressed firmly, like a promise. A promise that only he knew, a promise she was unaware of. She felt content, felt the worry and fear of the Mark of Cain slip from her mind when he started to undo her hair again. He was sucking on her bottom lip and tasting the ghostly remains of her favourite lip tint—rose petals—with a satisfied moan.

Once her hair was free again, he moved his hand back to his cock, and pulled away. Her mouth was red, lips swollen and gorgeous, all he wanted to do was kiss her again but he denied himself the pleasure and instead bit his lip. She moved her hands off him, placed her palms on the table and followed his gaze as he watched himself drag his leaking cock through her weeping folds.

Upon contact with her warmth, he moaned. He felt so aroused, when he towered over her, he had to place one of his hands flat on the table close to her hand to stabilise himself. She was writhing slightly, panting each time he brushed against her swollen clit, and he couldn’t even tolerate his own teasing anymore either.

He kissed her forehead like he always did, aligning the tip of his cock with her entrance and slowly pushed into her. He inspected her face to make sure she was good, groaning at the sight of pleasure that dawned on her face as he pushed in just an inch of himself. He withdrew slightly so she could adjust to the pressure and the stretch of him, then shoved in just a little more.

“Umm,” she whimpered, her hand flattening over his sweaty chest was her silent signal that she felt like she couldn’t take him. She could feel the rapid hammering of his heart against her palm and she clenched around him, eyes locking onto his to see past the madness of his lust, a tender fire that devoured everything else like a hungry beast.

He could read it all in her eyes too, her love, the way her adoring gaze blanketed over his entire soul, making him feel so loved and safe. It made his stomach flutter, made him feel like just pushing all the way in—just to feel closer to her. Instead, he brought his hand to her clit, rubbing slowly as he withdrew again and pushed back in, deeper. “You’re taking me so fucking good, baby,” he reassured her, his voice raspy and thick with lust.

The sound of him so wrecked made her shudder, temporarily closing her eyes and leaning back slightly in hopes of getting him inside her more easily. He kept his pace slow, mindful of her body, her limits, the way he always did as he pushed himself into her. He nuzzled her cheek and kissed her jaw, breathing unstably by her ear, “just a little more,” he murmured, looking away from her eyes to check that there was, in fact, just a bit more of his thick length that she had to take.

She stared at him for a few moments, studied the aroused fascination that brightened his honeydew eyes and with demure hesitation, she let herself look down too. She watched him pull out just a little, revealing how wet she left him and she gasped, a flurry of excited butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

It made him look up at her, his eyes knowing, gleaming with pride. He had her right where he wanted her, he always did. He pushed himself into her all the way, still gentle, he leaned over her a little, his arm wrapping around her waist so she’d hold onto him instead of balancing on the table, letting her adjust as he dropped kisses over her shoulders and the side of her neck. The scrape of his stubble tickled, but she found it more sexy than uncomfortable.

She wiggled beneath him, wrapping one of her arms around his neck with one hand flat on the table as she brought his mouth to hers. “I’m okay,” she murmured against his lips. He nodded and moaned softly, moving his two hands under her thighs, lifting her up slightly until she was only able to hold onto him.

He pulled his hips back and thrusted into her, feeling her arms squeeze him slightly. He cursed under his breath, twitching inside her at the feeling of her walls dragging along his cock. His pace was still slow, his breath catching as he felt the velvety ridges of her wet walls tightening around him. Only the head of his cock remained inside her and he pushed in slowly, his breaths shaky and shallow.

“Y/N,” he moaned, placing her back down when his hips were flush against hers. He gently pushed her down onto her back with a hand on her sternum. He slowly slid his hand down to her tummy, his eyes locked on hers, both of them more patient and tender than usual, but he knew the reason why as his arm ached. He lifted her feet up to the table, spreading her out more, pushing himself all the way---deeper---until he could feel her cervix if he swivelled his hips.

“Dean,” she mewled, her lips parted as she tipped her head back, her eyebrows furrowing while her eyes fluttered close. She reached out for his wrists, her hands sliding up until her hand rested over the Mark, squeezing reassuringly. He looked down at her small hand, her lavender nails creating crescent moons as she tried to reach all the way around his arm. “Please, move,” she finally begged, lifting her hips up a little to encourage him.

He admired her the whole time he started to thrust into her. His eyes stuck on her body as she jolted up the table slightly only for his hands to keep her hips planted where they were. Her breasts jiggled, abandoned and covered in small marks from his mouth and he twitched inside her, a grunt leaving his throat. Everything about her turned him on, the way they locked eyes, like a passing meteor getting pulled in by Earth’s gravity, they could only stare at each other.

He loved her so much, he didn’t want to look away. He needed her more than the air he breathed. She was everything to him. The only reason he smiled everyday, the only reason the weight of his guilt and shame didn’t crush him. It was the tenderness of her eyes like a Magellanic Cloud, the way she cut through the darkness in his life like a galaxy hurtling through space.

He, on the other hand, was a dimming and dying galaxy until she collided with him, dragging him along for the ride and perfectly melding into each other so that her stars were his, so that her planets and her suns also belonged to him, so that he could never remember or comprehend where he began or where he ended, only that he’d always find her at the end of his despair and at the start of every joy.

She brought life to him like a sun, terraforming him, blossoming his withering hopes and dreams. Her love for him grew like the universe itself, every moment expanding into the nothingness beyond, utterly unrestricted.

“Fuck, I…” he whispered brokenly. He couldn’t always bring himself to say ‘I love you’ and it frustrated him how awkward the words felt on his tongue, and it’s not like he’s never said them before. It was terrifying, especially in moments like these. It was serious and it was real. And he felt that that was exactly why he should say those words, that in moments like these it’s exactly the right moment to let them slip out. But he couldn’t. He found them easy to type, to press the button, and send it to her so she could read them.

He momentarily gave up on his admission and brought his hand down to her clit to rub quick circles. Like the final bit of pressure needed for a star to be born, the bursts of pleasure became overwhelming as she clamped down on him, drawing a growl from deep within his chest as she came. His name poured from her lips like traces of stardust and CMBR as she trembled on the table, his thumb slowly drawing out her orgasm as his warm release spurted into her.

He grunted her name mindlessly, swivelling his hips, pushing to keep his cum as deep inside her as physically possible until he was spilling out of her from how full she was. He didn’t care about what Sam would say if he walked in, he only cared about claiming her and filling her up. His soul burned with pride and fervour knowing she’d be wet and full inside for days with his cum as she walked around and worked, that her cunt and clit would be swollen from his usage for the next hours, sore from the penetration of his cock, her skin bruised by his hands and mouth, and her nipples tight from his tongue and fingers.

“Umm,” she started quietly. He snapped out of his daze, a lazy smile growing on his lips as he looked into her soft eyes, but didn’t dare to slip out of her. He lifted a hand to move a few strands of hair away from her flushed face and saw her perk up slightly. “Funny how I was annoying you earlier…” she trailed off, her fingers brushing against the Mark, relaxing him.

He hummed softly, shaking his head. “You’re not annoying,” he murmured, his thumb brushing against her cheek. She smiled at him, an adoring tenderness radiating from her features like sunlight that flustered him. “I.. I am sorry,” he whispered.

“Hmm? What for?” Her voice was quiet and curious, stunned about his second apology.

“You know.. Crowley, for not calling or texting, for everything before that if I haven’t apologised, and for everything after, just in case I’m too stupid to realise I’m wrong,” he told her, just a little bit of guilt and shame making him look away.

“Hey.” Her voice was soft, like everything else about her, and he looked up at her again when she tugged at his arms. “I’m always going to forgive you,” she informed him, then shut her eyes as if he wasn’t allowed to argue with her. She hummed softly at his thoughtful silence, her hands reaching out for his hips, pulling him into her so he’d brush her cervix again as a way to distract him.

“Sam… He, uh,” Dean paused to laugh sadly, “he gave me the talk.. the ‘don’t hurt her’ talk when you and me started.. dating, when I.. popped outta Hell,” he spoke up randomly. She remembered, it felt like just yesterday he was having nightmares of what he’d done in Hell---even now, there was still the aftermath of Hell affecting him. She lifted a brow, opening her eyes, and tilting her head like a puppy to give him her undivided attention.

Then, she smiled, images of Sam acting like the overprotective brother that Dean once played entertained her. “Oh.”

“I always knew no one could love like you do, and I wanted to.. uh, hold onto that innocence, that goodness in you, your kindness… I thought it’d wither away, but looking at you now, there’s only… more of it. I don’t know how… but you still care and love and feel so deeply.” He finally pulled out of her, biting his lip as he shamelessly watched himself slip out while his cum followed.

“What are you trying to say?” She didn’t notice what he was enthralled by, too caught up in trying to analyse his words, so he blinked away his arousal and picked up his folded shirt to clean her up.

“I don’t wanna taint that, I don’t wanna ruin it, to make you… lose that. I love you so much for it, and I have… this,” he pointed to the Mark on his arm, “so I know I won’t be.. stay good.. like you. I’ll be a demon, just evil, cold, and dark…” he trailed off, focusing on cleaning her up while feeling her eyes probing his very soul without even having to slip into the doors of his eyes.

“Don’t.. do you think… that now, as a human, you’re nothing more than that?” Her voice was quiet, like she didn’t actually want to know the answer, as if it’d break her to know the truth. She shooed his hand away as she sat up, her eyes never once straying from what she could see of his face.

“Well, yeah, I mean, that’s why Cain gave me this thing, because I was worthy or whatever,” he mumbled, busying himself by putting both their dirty clothes into the duffle bag to wash later. “Not something I should be proud of bein’ worthy of,” he muttered, putting his boxers on. She was quiet for a moment and let him dress her in his flannel as she tried to find her next words.

“He’s wrong, he doesn’t know you, not really,” she started. He caged her with his arms, his hands flat on either side of her hips and he finally looked up at her, their faces really close, but far enough for her to see his scepticism. “So, he’s seen like.. point one percent of what you are, you are so much more, Dean.” She hid her face in his neck, kissing his tattoo before she pulled away to add, “I look up to you, so.. if you love who I am, just know it’s because of you… that I am this way..”

“What?” He blinked, pulling back just to make sure he heard right, his brain incapable of retaining the meaning of her words.

“What? You really don’t know?” She asked with disbelief, a sad smile washing over her face. “That’s somewhat endearing actually,” she murmured with a somewhat sad, little laugh. She scooted forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, a little sigh drifting between her lips. “The first thing I noticed when I met you was how kind you are. How you took care of Sam.. then I found out you’ve done it all your childhood and you didn’t complain.”

“It wasn’t your job, you could’ve just.. not done it, but you did. With no reward, no thanks, nothing. You could’ve lied and ‘taken care of him’---no one was watching---but you still did it, and he had a better childhood than you. In fact, he’s turned out quite wonderful. You made him want more, made him feel worthy, valuable, which is why he went off to college.”

“You shielded him as much as you could from hunting, that for him there was actually a way out. Something you couldn’t see for yourself because you made it your job to take all the weight. Then, you took care of me and tried doing the same. And.. well, if you love who I am, thank yourself, Dean. You were like a hero to me, different from your dad, different from all the hunters I’d seen, and I thought, ‘this.. he is what I want to be, not a killer, not a thoughtless, violent, bloodthirsty, unchanging hunter---a hero’. I loved you for it back then too.”

“Then, when we were hunting together---all three of us, to look for your dad… I saw more of you.. there were the random kids you saved… how gentle you were---and still are---with them. You’ve shown mercy to monsters, to people who could be considered dangerous. You changed your mind about what hunting’s all about, you’ve evolved past killing anything that isn’t human, you’ve grown, and other hunters stick with the same ‘all monsters are killers and need to die’ motto. You’ve realised that they’re just like us too. That they can be different and.. fuck, if that’s not goodness, then I don’t know what you wanna call it.”

“You’ve done everything you’ve done—even getting this damned Mark—out of love, for the world, or for Sam, or whoever, because you’re good. I’ve seen all these billions of different, tiny, bits and pieces of you, and.. to me.. you’re.. like a whole universe, filled with light, hope, love, life, sadness, pain, grief, and you’re so fucking beautiful I’m just.. overwhelmed with how much I adore you for being who you are. I would never ask you to change.”

“And you’re still trying to save everyone. You, Sam, and even Cas might not always succeed when you try to do something you think is right or good to try to save the ones you love or the world, but the point of being a good man is that you’re even trying at all. No one sees you, no one tells you to, no one thanks you for it, you just help people because it’s right, because it’s the least you could do, above all, you do it because you’re kind, Dean.”

Silence fell over them momentarily as Dean let her words sink in. His mind worked quickly to absorb her sentiment and her love for him, and he wanted to cry. Tears of happiness and adoration stung his eyes and he blinked them away, swallowing past the tightness in his throat that made a strained whimper melt away, stopping it from making its way out.

“Y/N..”

“You don’t have to say anything, I just want you to know that, I just want you to hear the truth from someone who loves you and knows who you really are. Someone who accepts you as you are and doesn’t try to change you.. or.. act like all you are is.. bad. I see you, at your core, your very soul and your mind.. all of you… is just.. glorious. Nothing needs to be added to you or changed or removed because you’re already perfect, and anyone who doesn’t see that is a daft cow and their opinions don’t matter, obviously. You’re my everything and I love you,” she murmured, smiling playfully.

“You’re so…” He broke into a smile too, his hands landed on her hips and he pulled her closer to him, their faces inching closer. Close enough for their breaths to make them dizzy with a more tender haze of desire washing over them.

“Shh, let me.. I love you,” she whispered lazily against his lips. She kissed him deeply, both of them smiling and trying not to laugh as their lips moved together.

“You’re delirious,” he mumbled, entertained by her playfulness.

She pulled away from the kiss, her legs wrapping around his hips with her ankles locked together. She nuzzled into his neck again, finding a comfortable position and whispering, “shh, I said I love you, let’s go to sleep.”

“Not in our... bed?” He suggested with a chuckle, kissing her head.

“Oh. Right.. yes.” She pulled away, hopping off the table and fixing his shirt she was wearing. He bit his lip, claiming her waist under the open shirt with his hands. He pushed the shirt open more with his forearms to admire her nakedness.

“It’s okay, I love you.” He smiled like a dork as he kissed her forehead.

“You’re adorable when you say that,” she grinned, circling his waist with her arms. He blinked down at her, his eyes lighting up when he backtracked and remembered what had slipped from his mouth.

“I.. uh, sorry for not saying it more often,” he mumbled, still a little proud of himself for saying it at all.

“Don’t worry. It’s pretty hard for me to say it to you sometimes..” she confessed bashfully. Of course she’d understand that he had difficulty saying those words, as overdue as they were. She knew he’d found other ways to express it, everything he does for her he does out of love. At least now he knows there’s nothing he needs to overthink. She really knows him. She really sees him.

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