#lvstqrs

The air in the truck was tense. Logan hadn't moved. Hadn't started the truck. Hadn't looked at you. The silence was crushing everything around you. Everyone had left by now, leaving you and him in his truck, alone in the arena parking lot.

He'd had a bad practice. A really, really shitty practice. All he wanted to do was take you home after that. But then he saw some douchebag flirting with you in the hallway. He dragged you away as quickly as he could, jaw clenched tight.

For a while, you didn't speak. You knew he needed time to cool down. But eventually it got too quiet for too long. "Baby—"

Logan inhaled sharply, eyes closing. You cut yourself off. He opened the door, getting out. You furrowed your brows, watching as he rounded the truck, opening your door. "Scoot," he said, his voice deep and rough and full of emotion.

You did as told, watching as he climbed in, slamming the door. Silently, he pulled you to him until you were on his lap, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he rested his head back against the back window.

He breathed out, eyes dark as they looked at you. You swallowed, feeling the arousal creeping up on you. You knew you shouldn't feel so turned on by him being like this, but you couldn't help it.

He yanked you closer, grinding your hips against his as he pulled you against him, burying his face in your neck. You moaned softly, clenching around nothing. He groaned at the feeling. His teeth nipped at your sensitive skin, his hands forcing your hips to grind against his once more.

He was hardening quickly under you.

Your hands dragged up his arms and into his hair, holding him close as you let him do what he wanted. "Fuck, you're so fuckin' good f'me," he groaned, sucking on your neck. Not soft and sensual like usual, but rough. Like he was trying to devour you.

He was.

His fingers slid inward, roughly squeezing your inner thighs, massaging them. You moaned softly, kissing his jaw, his stubble tickling your lips. He breathed out, relaxing slightly against the seat, continuing with your thighs.

He reached up, unbuttoning your shorts, slipping his fingers inside. "Mm, fuck," he breathed out as he felt you over your wet panties. He didn't move, just cupped your mound. Your hips jerked against his hand, trying to create friction.

He grabbed your hip with his other hand, stilling you. "No," he said. "Be a good girl and listen to me tonight, hmm?"

You bit your lip, burying your face in his neck. "Mhm," you hummed, licking over his pulse point. 

He took his hand out of your pants, and you whined slightly from the loss of contact. He gripped your hips, manhandling you until you were beside him, lying down against the seats, your legs on his. He maneuvered so that he was facing you, his hands tugging your shorts down.

Your panties came next, then his sweats and boxers. It was slightly difficult in the confines of his truck, but neither of you cared.

He moved so he was hovering over you, leaning down and finally capturing your lips in his. His kiss wasn't sweet. It wasn't kind and soft. It was rough and hungry. His teeth nipped at your lip and his tongue invaded your mouth as he tried to devour you whole.

You moaned into the kiss, grasping his face as he ground his hips into yours, his cock rubbing up and down your slit.

"So fucking wet," he murmured into the kiss. He pulled back, resting on his knees as he looked down at you. His fingers slid through your slit, teasing your entrance, before two fingers slipped inside.

He wasn't patient. He was rough and fast like he needed this to ground himself. He groaned at the feel of you clenching around his fingers, and you gasped, a whimper leaving your lips as you tossed your head back.

His thumb pressed against your clit, rubbing tight, fast circles as he fingered you. His eyes never left you, watching as your chest rose and fell and your back arched, hips bucking into his hand. He removed his hand from you quickly, forcing a whine from your lips.

"John," you whimpered, looking up at him.

His eyes were still dark, his jaw still tight. He moved back to hover over you, taking his cock in his hand and rubbing the tip over your clit. "You're mine, baby. I don't share," he told you, pushing the tip inside of you.

You moaned, eyes closing as he grabbed your legs and pushed them toward your chest. "I know," you whined out, nodding.

He smirked, shaking his head with a low chuckle. "Yeah?" He pushed in deeper, hard but not fast, giving you the time you needed to adjust to him. You bit your lip, and he groaned. He kissed your calf, teeth scraping skin gently. "So tight, baby."

His hips rocked forward more, until he was so deep you were already shaking, crying out softly. "F-fuck," you moaned.

"This pussy is mine, hm?" He started thrusting, deep and slow at first, letting you feel every drag of his cock against your walls. You moaned in response, but that wasn't enough for him. He grabbed your jaw, not hard, but with command. "Answer me, pretty girl."

You nodded. "Fuck- yes!" You cried out a little louder as his thrusts got faster, hitting that deep spot perfectly.

He hummed, leaning forward and resting his hand against the door to hold himself up as he started pounding into you. "All of you is mine. Got it? I'm not fucking playing. I will mark every part of your perfect body if I have to."

You whined, grasping at his hair and tugging to try and ground yourself. He groaned, kissing you deeply. "Fuck, fuck, do it," you sputtered into his mouth, your lips parting in loud moans as he continued to fuck you.

He thrust harder, head moving so that he could suck on your jaw. "Yeah?" he murmured into your skin. "Wanna show everyone that you're mine?"

You nodded frantically, feeling so full of him that you could barely think. He growled softly, teeth sinking into your jaw just enough to make you cry out as he fucked you with abandon. He pushed your legs further into your chest, forcing you to take more of him as he sucked on your neck.

The marks were deep and visible and he fucking loved knowing he was doing that to you. That you wanted him to do that to you. His hand came down, fingers rubbing your puffy clit roughly. "Squeezing me so good, baby. Fuck, you were made for me."

Every slide of his cock had you moaning, your legs shaking from the pressure. Every rub of your clit had you crying out, your back arched into him as you got closer. He hummed, feeling you start to pulse around him.

"There ya go, pretty girl. Let me feel you." He sucked harder on your neck, keeping his pace on your clit and in your pussy as you cried out, orgasm taking over.

Your hands grasped at his hair and shirt, legs shaking as you pulsed around him. He moaned, teeth nipping at skin as he continued fucking you. "O-oh, fuck. John, I can't—"

"You can. You will. Be my good girl."

You whimpered, overstimulation quickly starting to take over as he continued fucking you, his fingers never stopping on your clit. He was getting closer, his thrusts a little sloppier as he felt you continuing to squeeze his cock so good.

Your toes curled as your legs shook, another orgasm crashing over you much more powerfully than the last. Tears welled up in your eyes as you cried out, and that's all it took for him. Two more deep thrusts and he was spilling inside you, cock twitching as your pussy pulsed.

Slowly, he stopped, not pulling out but pulling his fingers away from your clit. He panted in time with your pants, kissing from your neck to your lips. "So good. You're so fucking good for me," he murmured into your lips.

You moaned, kissing him back deeply. "F-feel better?" you whined out, still sensitive.

He chuckled. "I don't know, maybe I need to do that again."

In the six months you'd known John Logan, you'd known him to be rational. His anger was taken out on the ice, his head stayed cool, and his fists stayed by his side. That's the type of man John Logan was. He didn't punch first and ask questions later.

So why then, did Tucker call you at ten at night to tell you that Logan had his fists in your ex's face?

You weren't sure. All you knew was that you needed to figure it out. Set it straight. Understand why Logan lost his cool so hard.

He'd never done that before, and something in you was worried.

So, you put shoes on and headed out the door, not even bothering to change out of your pjs as you got in the car and headed to the hockey house. The ride there was deafeningly silent. No music, no mumbling or humming or anything from you. Just the rumble of your car and the worry in your brain.

When you pulled up, you paused for a second, breath hitching. You weren't entirely sure what you were doing here. In reality, what could you do to help? But...you had to be there. You had to be.

If Logan was pissed off over your ex, you felt responsible.

So you got out of the car and headed up to the house in your slides and pjs, not bothering to knock as you opened the door. Tucker and Dean were in the living room, and Dean pointed upstairs wordlessly.

You didn't give him a second glance as you headed upstairs and to Logan's room. No knocking, no waiting, you just barged in, closing the door behind you. Logan was sitting on his bed, leg bouncing and knuckles busted open.

You swallowed. "What happened?" you asked, your voice suddenly quiet.

It was like he hadn't even realized you were there, not until now. His eyes shot up to you, a mix of confusion and anger still lingering, but there was something else too. Something...different. His jaw worked, his lips pressing together.

Then, he shook his head. "Nothing," he replied. Like it wasn't a big deal. Like this entire thing didn't happen.

You scoffed. "Nothing? Logan, look at your knuckles."

Logan looked down, his eyes glancing over his bloody knuckles, and he inhaled shakily, like he was seeing them for the first time. He brought a hand up, running it over his face. "It's fine. Don't worry about it."

"Don't worry about it?" You sounded offended. You were offended. How could he tell you that? You huffed, turning around and leaving his room. You went to the bathroom and grabbed a washcloth, getting it wet with warm water and then adding some soap.

You walked back into Logan's room, and his eyes shot up again, surprise in them like he didn't expect you to come back. You walked over to me, dropping to your knees down in front of him and grabbing his hand gently.

"You don't have to—"

"Shut up," you mumbled, dabbing the rugged skin lightly. Logan hissed, hand tightening in yours, and you let him. Silence encompassed the room for a few seconds as you cleaned his knuckles, but curiosity got the best of you. "Why'd you do it?"

Your eyes met his. He swallowed. "He pissed me off."

You shook your head. "It's more than that. It has to be. You don't just beat up people because they piss you off, John."

The use of his first name seemed to get him. You only called him that when it was serious, and this was serious. You had to understand what was so special about your ex that he threw fists.

He sighed, throat bobbing as he swallowed once more. "He deserved it," he deflected again.

You weren't having it. "That's not what I asked."

He inhaled through his nose, squeezing your hand slightly tighter as you hit a sensitive spot with the washcloth. "He called you a slut," he grumbled out through gritted teeth.

You paused, eyes flickering up to his. You let out a shaky breath. You knew your ex had been saying shit about you, but it didn't make it affect you any less hearing it come from Logan. He scoffed softly, shaking your head. "So you beat his ass for that?"

"Of course I beat his ass for that, angel. Why the hell wouldn't I?"

Angel.

He only called you that on rare occasions. When he was really drunk or when it was really late and you were sleeping over. So to hear it now, in this moment? It struck your chest and made your stomach erupt with butterflies.

"It wasn't worth it," you mumbled, finishing up his knuckles. "It's just words."

You stood up, tossing the washcloth in his dirty hamper. "It's not just words, and it was worth it. It was worth it to me." He stood up then, hovering over you, his body inches from yours. "No one gets to talk about you like that."

You swallowed, shaking your head. "Why is it such a big deal to you?"

He tilted his head, eyes searching yours like the question was ridiculous to even ask. "Are you kidding me?" You shook your head, eyebrows furrowed. "Angel..." His hands came down to your hips, gripping gently and pulling you closer.

Your breath hitched. "Everything about you is a big deal to me," he whispered, a small smile on his face.

You smiled slightly, confusedly, trying to come to terms with what you knew he was saying. "I don't-" You paused. "I mean...you- you still shouldn't have hit him."

He chuckled, breathlessly and softly, like this was all funny. "Yeah, I should've." He leaned in, kissing you softly. Your breath was taken away, his lips soft and sure against yours. It took you a few seconds, but you caught up.

Your hands went to his hair and he pulled you even closer, the kiss deepening as he did so. The kiss lasted as long as it could before you both had to pull back, and you were smiling so hard it almost hurt. You'd never been kissed like that before.

You chuckled, shaking your head. "You are..." You sighed, leaning in and resting your forehead against his. "Something else, John Logan."

The idea was ridiculous. Allie was ridiculous. She was sitting in front of you in your dorm, holding up a packet of honey. A packet of honey that supposedly made you horny. You were calling bullshit.

"It's not supposed to work unless you're attracted to the person, but still. Fun!"

You giggled slightly, shaking your head. "So, you and Dean gonna try it?"

She shrugged. "Or you could." She had a twinkle of mischief in her eye. You furrowed your brows.

"With who? Casper?"

Allie rolled her eyes playfully. "Logan, silly."

Your mouth fell open, and you sputtered out some incoherent words, before getting your shit together. "John and I are friends. Friends."

Allie gave you a knowing look. "Mhm." She held the packet closer to you. "I have another one. You should do it with him. Find out if it's all really what it seems."

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. "That's ridiculous. We're friends, and- and even then, those stupid honeys don't work."  

Allie smiled, standing up. She went over to her purse, pulling out another packet and putting both on your desk. "Just in case."

You huffed.

Yeah, right.

  ++

  The honey packets were in your bag. Why? You had no idea. Not really. You knew it was stupid, and the chance of them actually working—whether that be because you weren't attracted to each other or because they were just straight bogus—was low.

Still, they were there, and you were on John's bed, scrolling through your phone as he did some sort of homework that he clearly didn't want to do. Eventually, he huffed, tossing his pen on the desk. "Okay, I give up. What should we do before my head explodes?"

He turned around in his chair, staring at you. You looked up, shrugging. "I dunno."

He gave you an unimpressed look. "There's not one thing in that chaotic mind of yours that has your interest?"

There was one thing. One stupid, ridiculously dumb thing. But it was there, and you couldn't get rid of it. John picked up on it before you could even deny anything. "What is it?"

You huffed, rolling your eyes. "Honey."

"Honey?"

"Honey."

He chuckled, shaking his head confusedly. "What?"

"Allie gave me some stupid honey packets. Told me to test them out and give her the results."

The pieces clicked quickly. He'd heard of them before. Of course he had, he was a college hockey player after all. His throat worked. "Oh." A pause, before he shrugged. "Do you have them?"

You almost laughed. Straight up cackled at the mere idea of him entertaining this. "You're serious?"

"Why not? What's the worst that could happen? I doubt they work."

"That's what I said. Allie insists otherwise."

"Well, let's find out."

You swallowed. This was not happening. You were not about to take horny honey with John Logan. Except, you were. He was willing. He was more than willing. You were dizzy from it. You let out a breathy laugh, leaning down and grabbing your purse off the floor.

You reached inside, searching until you found them. You pulled them out, tossing one to John. "This is stupid," you commented, but still, you were opening your packet. The honey was sweet on your tongue with some sort of bitter taste involved, but it wasn't overpowering.

John did the same thing until both of your packets were empty. You tossed your purse on the floor, standing up and throwing the trash away in his mini-trashcan by his desk.

He looked up at you from his seat. "Now we wait."

"Now we wait," you repeated, going back over to his bed.

John followed, plopping down next to you and pulling out his phone. Both of you stayed silent, a little too anxious over what may happen, but still willing to do it. You scrolled aimlessly on your phone for about thirty minutes before you started to feel weird.

Not a bad weird, but you were hyperaware. Hyperaware of every time he shifted next to you, every breath that was a little too deep. Your thighs squished together a bit because you were feeling a little tingle in your core.

Fuck.

Oh, fuck.

The realization that the honey packets were working made you swallow. You slowly looked at John, and he was already staring at you. "Oh," he said softly.

You swallowed. "Yeah."

The room was silent. Still. Waiting for your next move. Did you leave? Did you run away from the situation and deal with your problem alone?

Part of you wanted to. Hell, you really wanted to.

But the bigger part, the hornier part, just wanted him. You swallowed again, head snapping forward to look at his closed door. It was locked, too. He'd done that after Dean walked in twice for stupid shit and caused him to lose focus.

Now, it felt different. There were no interruptions. Nothing to stop this.

You swore you heard him whine, but the sound was so quiet and caught in his throat that you couldn't be sure. "What do we—"

"C'mere," he interrupted, his voice deep and strained like he was holding himself back from something. You looked at him again. His jaw was tight.

You put your phone down, scooting closer. He shook his head. "Come here."

He grabbed your arms, yanking you onto his lap in one swift motion. You gasped, biting your lip at the feeling of him under you. Hard and aching and, fuck — he was big.

You could feel it.

His hands fell to your hips, gripping you tightly as he stared directly into your soul. His eyes were dark, pupils blown and gaze determined. "I feel like I'm going to explode," he grumbled, head falling back as your hands gently grazed over his shoulders. "Fuck."

"Yeah," you whispered.

"Do you want this?"

You nodded. He shook his head, jaw working as he held himself back. "Not the sex. I know you want the sex. That's the point. Do you want it with me?"

You sucked in a breath. "I wouldn't have taken that stupid thing if I didn't."

You barely got the words out before he was on you, his tongue deep in your mouth as he forced your hips to move against his. He whined into your mouth, the kiss messy and deep as you moaned, grasping his shoulders properly.

You could feel how soaked you were, and every grind against his hard cock made you wetter. It made everything more difficult to control. You weren't high, but you felt like it. Not because of what you took but because you were grinding against John Logan's dick.

He pulled you into his chest, holding you against him as you continued rocking your hips over his. He moaned lowly, teeth grazing your shoulder blade. "Oh, fuck," you whined, hand slipping into his hair and tugging softly.

He groaned, teeth sinking a little deeper. Suddenly, he pulled back, flipping you over so that you were on your back and he was hovering over you. He panted as he looked down at you. You'd never seen him so hungry for something before.

It caused your panties to be even wetter. He rested back on his knees, quickly shedding his shirt. His hands went to your shorts, undoing the button and zipper quickly, before yanking them down. You gasped as you felt the cool air over your soaked panties, and he groaned at the sight.

"Fucking hell," he murmured, immediately leaning down and pressing kisses to your thighs. Rough and desperate ones, like he was trying to devour you. He yanked your panties down, wasting no time as he pressed his tongue flat against your clit, moaning.

You whined, back bowing slightly as your hands flew to his hair. His movements were rushed, but experienced. He knew what he was doing. His tongue flicked over your clit before his lips sealed around it, sucking roughly. "Oh — fuck!"

He hummed, gripping your thigh and rubbing his thumb across the sensitive skin. His other hand came down, two fingers teasing your entrance. He pulled back slightly, blowing air over your clit. "Fuck, look at this pretty pussy," he murmured, shoving two fingers into you slowly.

You gasped, gripping his hair tighter. Everything felt more intense than it ever had, and you weren't sure how you were going to handle this. But you wanted it. You wanted it so bad.

"So fucking tight. So fucking perfect." Then his mouth was on you again, his fingers working in time with his tongue to bring you closer and closer to climax.

You moaned his name, tugging on his hair and trying to get him closer as your hips bucked into him. And then he was pulling away and you were whining, eyes opening to look at him as you panted. His face was slick with your wetness and he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

He moved up, thumb coming up to your lip and forcing your mouth open. He slid his fingers that were inside you moments ago into your mouth. You whined, sealing your lips around them and sucking them clean. He groaned. "Atta girl."

He pulled his fingers out, leaning down and capturing your lips in a heated kiss as he pressed into you, gently rolling his hips over yours, your slick coating his sweatpants. You gasped into his lips, pulling him closer and pushing your tongue deeper into his mouth.

"John —"

"I know, baby," he murmured, pulling back long enough to pull down his sweatpants and boxers. Then he was back on you, kissing you as he grabbed his cock, rubbing the tip up and down your slit. "Shit, you're so wet."

"Mhm," you moaned, brain blanking as you felt his cock on you. You wrapped your legs around his waist, crying out softly as he pushed the tip in you. "Oh —"

"Fuckkk, mhm," he murmured into your lips, rolling his hips and pushing in deeper. "Holy shit, baby."

"John, I — fuck, you're so —" You moaned out, words becoming incoherent as he bottomed out, pressing so deep inside you that you couldn't breathe in the best way.

"Shh, you're taking it so well for me. Such a good girl." He dragged his hand down, pulling your shirt up to press his hand over the bulge in your tummy. "Feel that? Fuck, I'm so deep, hm?"

You nodded frantically, head falling back against the pillow. He hadn't moved yet, and fuck, it was torture waiting. You needed him to move. "Please," you whimpered.

He hummed, hand slipping down further, thumb pressing to your clit, forcing a moan from deep in your throat. You knew he was just as desperate, but somehow, he was far more in control. "Please what?"

"Please fuck me. Move."

He rolled his hips once. Twice. And then stopped. You cried out, feeling his chain around his neck brushing against your skin as he leaned down. His breath brushed past your ear as he whispered, "I've been thinking 'bout this for a long time, baby."

You moaned, pulling him back enough to see his face. "Me too." And then you were kissing him, softer but still desperate. You needed this, and clearly, so did he.

He groaned, his hips starting to move fluidly now. Deep, slow thrusts that had your toes curling and your back bowing at the feel of him dragging against your walls over and over. "Fuck — so fucking good."

He grabbed your legs, tossing them over his shoulders and practically bending you in half as he did so. You cried out, loud enough that you were sure the guys heard. Right now, you didn't care. "That's it, baby. Let me hear you."

He was moving faster now. Deeper, if that were possible. Your legs were shaking and tears were forming in your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure of it all. John's lips were all over your legs, teeth nipping at skin as he held them in place, fucking into you with a force you weren't sure you've ever had before.

Moans and whimpers were escaping you at an increasing rate as you felt your orgasm closing in. You tried to warn him but everything was coming out in sputters as your brain melted into a pile of nothing because of him.

"Oh, fuck, you're squeezing me so tight," he groaned, hips jerking forward harder. You sobbed softly, hands gripping the sheets as your orgasm started.

Wave after wave of pleasure hit you so hard you were seeing stars, but he didn't stop. No, he fucked you through it, even as you pulsed around him and even as tears fell down your face. He was right there, working you through it all.

"Fuck — fuck!" He moaned, hips stuttering as he twitched. Neither of you were really worried in the moment about him coming inside of you. It just happened. You moaned as he filled you up, his hips slowing but not stopping as he dropped your legs, leaning down and kissing you as he worked himself through his orgasm.

You moaned, cupping his jaw as your legs twitched from his continuous thrusts. He wasn't stopping, even as you'd both came and everything felt insanely intense, he wasn't stopping. You didn't want him to.

His tongue slipped into your mouth, his body shaky from overstimulating himself. "Fuck — you feel too good," he moaned softly, lips trailing down to your neck. "Too fucking perfect."

You whimpered, nodding as tears slipping down your cheeks from the amount of pleasure coursing through you. "We're gonna be here a while," he murmured.

You let out a breathy laugh that turned into a moan as he picked up his pace. "Mhm," you hummed.

You did not want to be there. Hockey was a violent sport and you didn't like it. However, Hannah's boyfriend just so happened to be the captain, so you were sucked into far too many games for your liking.

"Listen, if I can get over it, so can you," Hannah told you, smiling.

She had a point, you supposed. Her reason was much more valid than yours, and yet, you found yourself upset anyway. Not irrationally or anything, just mildly. Still, you sat with her in the crowd, eyes latching onto the game.

If you were here, you might as well watch. You knew the players, Hannah was around them all the time so that meant you'd come to know their faces, even if you never personally interacted. You tended to stay clear of men like them.

The game was brutal and violent and by the end you felt a little nauseous. Not because you couldn't watch violence, but because you hated the unnecessary kind. And this seemed the most unnecessary there was.

Still, you stayed silent. You cheered with Hannah when Briar U won and you found yourself even a little happy. No, you didn't like hockey, but if someone had to win, it might as well be your team.

Hannah dragged you with her to wait down the hall of the locker rooms. "This is stupid," you grumbled, crossing your arms.

Hannah laughed. "It's not stupid! I want you to meet my friends!"

You sighed, giving in easily. You had a soft spot for Hannah, and you were glad she had found some more people to be comfortable with. Allie was supposed to be here, but she got way too caught up in the upcoming play and ended up passed out in her room.

You two left her be.

Soon enough, men were piling out of the locker room and you felt a little uncomfortable. Not because you felt unsafe, but because they were all staring at you. You weren't shy or anything, not even really that insecure, but it was reasonable that a group full of men staring at you made you uncomfortable.

Hannah introduced you to the guys, and you gave a small wave, an even smaller smile on your face. Not out of rudeness, but out of comfort for yourself. None of them seemed to mind. "You coming to the party, Wellsy?" Dean asked, tossing his arm around her shoulders.

"Depends. Are you coming to the party?" Hannah's eyes were on you.

You widened your eyes, pointing to yourself. "Me? Um...no?"

Dean boo'd, and Logan smacked him upside the head. "Be nice, dickwad."

That earned a little giggle from you. "Come. It'll be fun, and I'll personally bodyguard you if need be," Garrett said, his eyes soft and warm as they reached you.

You sucked in a breath, looking at Hannah who had a little pout on her face. You gave in again. "Okay, I'll come."

Dean and Hannah cheered, slapping palms together. You chuckled, shaking your head. You turned around, heading toward the building doors.

This was a bad idea.

Still, you found yourself walking into the hockey house a few hours later with Hannah at your hip, your eyes darting around the place. You'd never actually been in it, and it was smaller than you expected.

People were packed everywhere, girls all over the guys and they were eating it up like Christmas dinner. Especially Dean. Hannah waved at Garrett, who smiled, walking over to you two.

It was nice for all of two seconds before you decided that being suffocated by the love of those two was not something you wanted to be subjected to all evening. You pulled away from Hannah, a polite smile on your face.

"I'm going to get a drink."

Hannah tilted her head, but nodded. She knew you enough to know that, while you loved love, sometimes it was too much. You hated it, really. It made you feel guilty. There was no reason for you to feel so...envious of Hannah.

She deserved all she had, and you wanted that for her.

Still, something inside you ached a little every time she was with Garrett. Some little voice in your head that told you that could never be you. You ignored it. You had to. You couldn't let that stupid voice consume your life.

Even if, sometimes, it felt like it would.

You sighed, walking over to the kitchen and making yourself a drink. You heavily inspected the cup before deciding it was safe. It took two sips for you to realize you hated whatever it was. Well, it took one sip. But you took another one just to be sure.

You were definitely sure, making a sour face and pouring the liquid down the drain of the sink.

"You know, that's perfectly good alcohol right there." Dean's voice invaded your ears. You looked beside you, seeing him leaning against the fridge, a small smirk on his face.

"Good is a stretch," you replied, shaking your head in an attempt to get the sour taste out.

He chuckled. "Nice freckles." The comment was an odd one, but it ignited some sort of feeling in you. "Never got to see you close enough to notice before."

You managed a smile, a breathy chuckle accompanying it. "That happened to be the goal."

He tilted his head. "How come?"

You swallowed. "Don't you have some girl to make out with?"

A smile from him. "Depends. Are you that girl?"

You crossed your arms. "No."

"Then no."

You narrowed your eyes at him, studying him. His demeanor was calm, collected, cool. Like he belonged right where he was, talking to you in his kitchen as a party happened around the two of you. You weren't quite as collected.

"You didn't answer my other question," he pointed out.

You bit the inside of your cheek. "Well, it was a stupid question."

"Humor me."

You chuckled softly, shaking your head. "You're impossible."

"Oh, you have no idea, sweetheart."

The pet name usually made you feel sick. But Dean didn't say it like a catcall. He said it like it was natural. Like it was a name meant for you. You were positively confused. A little concerned. Mostly focused on making your exit.

Dean noticed. "Some place to be?" He stepped closer. One tiny little step. It made you feel hot.

You swallowed. "Lots of places to be. None of them are here."

"How come?"

The repeated question caused a fire to spread up your neck until you felt the blush across your cheeks. Dean smiled. Not smirked. Smiled. "You're cute when you blush."

You had never felt more of an urge to push a man than you did right then. Not out of anger, but out of embarrassment. No way were you blushing in front of Dean Di Laurentis. "Shut up," you mumbled, tightening your arms around yourself to feel a little more protected.

Dean's eyes scanned over you, his gaze making you squirm slightly. You didn't enjoy being inspected, especially by some manwhore hockey man. Still, you stayed silent. His eyes met yours, something in them you weren't too familiar with.

You could still place it, though. You'd seen it a couple times. It was hunger.

Your chest felt a little tight, and you refused to fall at the feet of him. Your eyes scanned the room. "I make you nervous, don't I?" he asked softly. Not judging or teasing, just a genuine question.

"A little, yes," you replied, eyes staring next to him at the fridge instead of at him.

"How come?"

"Can you stop asking me that?"

"Can you start answering me?"

You bit back a smile. "Fine. You get one question, make it good."

Dean thought for a second. "Why don't you come around?"

You sucked in a breath. "Why would I? A house full of men isn't exactly my idea of a good time."

Dean tilted his head. "So what is?"

You shook yours. "You don't really care about that."

"Hm?"

"I can see it in your eyes, Dean. You're not interested in knowing what I do for fun. You're interested in how much fun I can give you."

Something passed Dean's eyes, something that made you regret what you said, but he easily recovered. "True. Partly."

"Partly?"

"I'm not blind, sweetheart. You're a gorgeous woman in my kitchen, I'd be stupid not to flirt. Still, I am actually interested in what you have to say. I don't only think with my dick, you know?"

You tilted your head. "Hm, that's not what I've heard." Dean chuckled, you smiled. "Okay, fine. You get another question."

This one came with no hesitation. "Are you enjoying yourself tonight?"

"Not entirely," you answered honestly. Dean tilted his chin up.

"You wanna go home?"

"Can't. Allie dropped us off."

"Not what I asked."

You sighed. "Yes."

"Then let's go."

You furrowed your brows. "Dean-"

He shook his head. "The party will live without me. I'd be cruel to make you suffer through it." He peeled himself off the fridge, holding out a hand.

You chuckled softly, slipping your hand into his. His fingers wrapped around your hand easily, and the warmth of his skin caused goosebumps to erupt. You ignored them. You found Hannah quickly, she was drunk.

You were glad she felt comfortable enough to be that way now.

You said goodbye to both Hannah and Garrett, and then followed Dean out of the house. He led you to his car, opening the passenger door for you. You got in silently, and once Dean got in, you gave him your address.

The ride was silent, but comfortable. Music hummed lowly through the car and Dean's eyes flickered to you every once in a while. You never looked back. You were smarter than that. You knew better. You had to know better.

You weren't going to one-night stand yourself into some complicated feelings over Dean fucking Di Laurentis. No, you were more aware of your faults than that. More aware of your inability to be casual about anything.

He pulled up to your house, a small one bedroom in a quiet neighborhood. You sighed softly. You regretted the words before you even got them out. "Do you want to come in?"

There was a pause, before Dean nodded. "Yeah."

You ignored the feeling in your chest as you got out, digging your keys out of your pocket and walking up to the front door, Dean following behind you silently. The door creaked open, and you flicked on the light, kicking your shoes off at the door.

Dean followed your example, trailing you as you walked into your cozy living room. It was full of books and plants and, honestly, it was everything Dean thought it would be. Maybe more.

"Cute," he said softly, almost too softly. His fingers grazed the chipping wallpaper on the wall, and you sucked in a small breath, sitting down in your hanging chair.

Dean followed, sitting down on the couch.

"Why'd you come in?" you asked suddenly, but quietly.

Dean smiled. "Why not?"

"Not an actual answer, by the way."

He chuckled. "Honestly? I wanted to see what kind of place you lived in."

You tilted your head. "And?"

"It's everything I expected from you."

You chuckled. "You can go back to your party, you know?"

"I know."

"Yet, you're still sitting on my couch."

"That I am."

Silence. You sucked in a small breath, turning your head away from him. You felt his stare. You ignored it. "Why do you do that?"

Dean's question was soft and quiet, but full of a weight he didn't know it carried. "Do what?" you asked. Your eyes still weren't on his.

"We get somewhere, and you shut down."

"We don't get anywhere."

"Yes, we do."

You closed your eyes, sucking in a breath through your nose. Your hands tightened at the edges of your chair. You slowly looked at him. "Honestly? It scares me."

Dean tilted his head at your answer, his eyes soft and searching. "What does?"

"You. This. All of it. I don't..." You shook your head. "I don't flirt. I'm smarter than that. I don't get my hopes up. I'm better than that. And I certainly, certainly don't invite a hockey man into my house."

Dean ignored the last part for now, more focused on what you said before. "Hopes up about what?" he asked curiously.

You laughed. A self-deprecating one that made you cringe internally. "You're not dumb, Dean. You know who you are, and so do I. And I know who I am. It's just..." You shook your head once more. It wasn't like you didn't know your worth.

You did.

You just also knew when you were in over your head. Sometimes it got the better of you. You hated that it did, but you couldn't help it. Dean moved then, slowly and soft like you were going to run away if he moved too quickly.

Maybe you were.

He found his place in front of you on his knees, eyes looking up at you. You sucked in a breath. "So who are you, then?" he asked quietly.

Your eyes searched his. "I'm the girl who's smart enough to know that this isn't happening. Not really." He tilted his head. You continued. "You'll flirt and maybe you'll get what you want, or maybe you won't. Either way, you'll go home and it'll be over for you. You're a casual man, Dean."

He swallowed. You didn't stop. "Casual's cool. It's nice, I guess. But it's not me. I'm not that type of person. I can't be. It's not realistic, and it's certainly not something I'm capable of."

Dean sucked in a breath. "It doesn't have to be casual."

The words hung heavy in the air. You furrowed your brows. "What?"

Dean shrugged. "It doesn't have to be anything you don't want it to be. It doesn't have to be sex." He leaned in, just slightly, his hands resting on either side of your legs. "What do you want?"

You scoffed, soft and really with no insult behind it, shaking your head. "I-" You swallowed. "What?" You couldn't fathom what he was saying right now. Dean Di Laurentis of all people.

"What do you want?" he repeated, softer this time.

The question was heavy. It crushed your throat and filled your chest with cement. It was the type of question you never answered honestly. Tonight, it felt like you had to. "I want to be wanted. Really wanted."

Dean nodded, eyes searching yours. He stood up slowly, holding out his hand. For some reason, you just took it. No questions asked. He pulled you up with ease, and you gasped softly as his arm wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest.

"Why don't we start slow?" he asked quietly. "See where it goes."

"I'm not having sex with you."

He smiled. "Not what I meant, sweetheart."

You tilted your head, genuinely curious. "What did you mean?"

He brought a hand up, thumb brushing over your cheek that was still burning with a blush. "I take you on a date, we get to know each other. Something...un-casual."

You sucked in a small breath, eyes searching his. "You're serious?"

"Deadly."

You bit your lip, slowly nodding. "Okay."

He smiled, soft and warm and it filled you with something you weren't sure you wanted to place. You were fucking terrified. Still, your veins pumped with excitement. "Does it count as un-casual if I kiss you?"

You giggled at his question. "Only if you don't immediately leave after."  

He shook his head, tucking some hair behind your ear. "Not happening."

You nodded, giving him the green light. His lips met yours softly, full of warmth and passion and you felt dizzy from it. He pulled you closer, hands roaming your body in a way you've never felt. You moaned softly into the kiss as his tongue slipped into your mouth.

Dean pressed against you harder, but not insistent. Like he just wanted to be close. What usually made you feel uncomfortable made you feel warm now. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, deepening the kiss slightly.

Dean's hands slipped under your ass, picking you up in one swift motion. You gasped, grabbing onto his shoulders. He carried you over to the couch like you weighed nothing, sitting you on his lap as you two made out.

His lips traveled to your jaw, sucking softly on the skin as you let out a shaky breath, hand running through his hair. He pulled back slowly, licking his lips as he looked at you. You could feel him growing harder under you, and it was hard to ignore.

He noticed. "Don't worry about it," he whispered, caressing your hair. "No sex, remember?"

You giggled, leaning in and kissing him softly. He groaned into it. "You are so not how I thought you'd be."

"Good thing or bad thing?"

"Good," you replied. "Definitely good."

The first time you went on a Tinder date, John didn't think must of it. Sure, he felt a little weird, but he chopped it up to him being overprotective. You were his best friend, and he wanted you safe. So, he stayed up all night waiting for you.

You texted him at 11:51.

Can I come over? Bad date.

Door's always unlocked for you.

John felt guilty. Just a little. He wasn't sure why, but for some reason, he was a little happy that the date didn't go good. Maybe he shouldn't have been. And maybe he was a shitty person, but he couldn't help it.

The love of your life was not on Tinder, he was sure.

So he waited, and you came over, still dressed up and still in your makeup. He let you wear his clothes and you took your makeup off with the spare wipes you had on his desk. You ranted on and on about how disrespectful the guy wason.

To you. To the waitress. To society. It turned you off immediately, and by the end of the night he was still trying to get you to come home with him.

John listened, carefully and closely, humming along and making noises of disgust at certain parts. The guy sounded like a douchebag, and he was glad you had enough sense to get away from him.

The night ended with the two of you in his bed, your phone silenced from the Tinder notifications going off, as they did mostly in the middle of the night. You laid there, before John slowly wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer until you were on snuggled into him.

"Maybe Tinder's just not for you," he whispered.

You chuckled, shaking your head. "One bad date doesn't mean it's not for me, silly."

John smiled, but there wasn't a lot of light to it. He wasn't sure why he was feeling like this, but he knew it wasn't going away.

 ++

 The second time you went on a Tinder date, John felt worse. His chest got a little tight, and his brain kept telling him to talk you out of it. He didn't, of course, because he had no right. But it was miserable hearing you get excited for it.

You were feeling good about this one, and that made him feel worse. He knew he was a shit friend for thinking the way he was, but he didn't want the date to go good. He wasn't sure why, but he couldn't help it.

Everything felt bad when you discussed it. But he held it in. He was being supportive. Even if it killed him.

So, he waited, like the first date, all night for you to say something. To send him a text or call him for a fake emergency. The text didn't come until later, but it still came. 12:32.

Well, that failed miserably. You up?

Yep. Door's always unlocked for you.

You looked significantly more disheveled this time around. Your makeup was smeared slightly, hair a mess, and your dress was a little less put together. There was a lump in John's throat. He ignored it.

Again, he gave you some of his clothes and watched as you cleaned off your makeup and brushed your hair. You ranted, again. This time, he seemed decent. A good kisser and blah blah blah—John was feeling a little sick from it all.

And then his girlfriend showed up. Now, John was feeling a little pissed. Yeah, he wanted the date to go bad, but not because you were some second sneaky link pick. He wanted it to go bad because you thought the guy was bad.

Not because he had a girlfriend.

He immediately felt guilty for wishing it went bad in the first place. You were clearly a little sad and shaken up over it, and when you climbed into his bed, John didn't hesitate to pull you closer, wrapping his arms around you and kissing the top of your head.

"Seems like it might be me," you mumbled like it was a joke, but it didn't land like one.

John held you closer. "No way in hell is it you."

You chuckled softly, but it didn't really hit right either. John felt it then, the all-consuming heat in his chest.

Fuck.

That's what it was. He felt like an idiot for not figuring it out sooner.

He wanted you. All to himself. Exclusively.

Fuck, he was so fucked.

   ++

  By the third date, John was losing it completely. He was a shell of a person, really. He was trying to be supportive and keep it together, but you looked far too good for some douchebag off Tinder. He was sure of it.

Still, he kept quiet. He had to. He wasn't going to be the dickhead who ruined something for you because of his own selfish desires. Even if they were big and consuming and he felt like he was on fire by keeping his mouth shut.

So, just like the last two times, he waited.

This time the text never came.

He accepted that at exactly 4:02 in the morning. His eyes were closing on him and his body was exhausted, but more than that, his heart hurt. This date went well. Fuck.

He should've been happy. Should've been supportive and all that good friend bullshit. All he felt, though, was this pit in his stomach. Overwhelming jealously and complete and utter despair. He should've opened his mouth.

He should've said something.

He hated himself right now, for so many reasons. He sighed, climbing into bed and putting his phone on the charger as he grumbled inaudible words to himself, tossing and turning as he tried to get comfortable.

He was almost asleep when his phone dinged. His eyes opened, throat working as he swallowed. He was telling himself not to get his hopes up, but who else would be texting right now?

He turned over, grabbing his phone.

You up? I need to talk to you.

John smiled softly, like a fucking idiot who was too whipped to really care how desperate or embarrassing he was.

Yeah. What's up?

The next text made his throat dry. He wasn't sure why, but something felt daunting about it.

Can you come over? Sorry, but this is important.

With a text back, John hopped out of bed and put some clothes on, immediately on his way to your apartment. He didn't hesitate, even if he was nervous and everything felt wrong, he didn't hesitate. If you needed him, for any reason, he'd be there.

He pulled up to your building ten minutes later, buzzing in and heading to your floor. He, like a fucking idiot, waited at your door for a whole minute, just trying to get his shit together. Then he knocked. Once, twice. Then paused. Knocked again. Once, twice.

He always knocked on your door like that. It was a sure way for you to know it was him. The door opened soon after, and John's breath hitched at your appearance. Your eyes were red, makeup tear-streaked.

He didn't ask questions, he just stepped forward, closing your door and pulling you into a hug. Your breath was shaky, your body tense. Whatever this was, John was equal parts worried for you and pissed at whatever happened to make you like this.

Silently, he picked you up, carrying you over to your couch and sitting down on it, you in his lap. He look at you, pushing your hair away from your face. "What's going on?" he asked softly.

You swallowed, shaking your head. "I'm gonna tell you something, and it'll probably ruin everything, but I have to say it. It's killing me."

His heart sped up. The thought that maybe you were about to confess your feelings didn't cross his mind. Instead, he was convinced you were about to break his heart somehow. Unintentionally, of course, but still.

He stiffened slightly, head nodding. "Okay."

You sucked in a breath. "Tonight went really well. Like, really well. I even invited him over." The pit in his stomach got worse, but he stayed silent. "We were literally about to have sex when I sort of realized something. Something that was embarrassing to try and explain to a guy who had his hands in my pants."

You chuckled breathlessly, shaking your head. "I know why Tinder's not working out. It's not because of the douchebags or the lustful losers, it's just...it's you, John. You're fucking...you're in my bones. And this is terrifying to say because I love our friendship, but I think if I don't say it, it'll ruin me. Because...I love you. I'm in love with you."

The air stilled, as if it knew how big of a moment this was. John's body was still as well. Nothing was moving, nobody was daring to do anything. His eyes searched yours, for confirmation or maybe for deceit, but he knew that wouldn't be there.

He knew you'd never just say that.

Words didn't come, not right now. Stupidly, he had none. So, instead, he just leaned in, kissing you softly and deeply like he'd been dreaming of, grasping your jaw and pulling you closer. You gasped into it, following his lead.

His lips moved desperately against yours, not wanting more, just wanting this forever. He pulled back suddenly, panting. "Fuck, fuck," he whispered, swallowing. He had to remind himself to slow down. He wanted everything all at once and he needed to breathe.

He looked at you, smiling. "Sorry, I'm getting ahead of myself." He chuckled lowly, and you shook your head, a smile on your face.

"It's okay."

"I love you too, angel. Of course I fuckin' love you," he murmured, thumb brushing over your bottom lip.

You smiled brighter, leaning in and kissing him deeply, tongue slipping into his mouth. He groaned, grabbing your hips and squeezing. "Tell me when to stop," he mumbled into your mouth in between kisses, making it clear that he didn't want anything you didn't want.

"Don't stop."

"Angel-"

"John, don't stop."

He moaned as your hips ground against his, and his lips traveled to your jaw, sucking softly, before exploring your neck. He sucked behind your ear, and you moaned, gripping his biceps, nails digging in slightly. John sucked harder.

In one swift motion, he was standing up with you in his arms, heading to your bedroom. He laid you on the bed gently, hovering over you as he looked down at you. "Are you sure you want this? I can wait for it, angel."

You smiled, hands running through his hair. "I can't."

He chuckled, leaning in and kissing you again, messier this time but no less passionate. The hand not holding him up slipped under your shirt, large hand spread out against smooth skin, giving you goosebumps.

You moaned softly, and John pressed his hips into yours. His lips found your neck again, sucking gently, not hard enough to leave lingering marks, but enough to make you squirm. He smirked against your skin, pulling back and resting on his knees to pull his shirt off.

Your hands came up, nails gently raking up his torso to his neck, and he let out a shaky breath. "You have no idea what you do to me," he murmured, looking down at you with half-lidded eyes.

You smiled, sitting up slightly to tug your shirt off, leaving your torso bare. John's breath hitched, and he leaned down, pushing you into the mattress as he kissed down the valley of your breasts, taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking.

You moaned, back bowing for him as he slipped a hand behind you, pulling you into him as he sucked on your tits. His lips were precise, tongue greedy as he did so. He was devouring you, and he was just getting started.

His lips slowly trailed down your belly, to the waistband of your shirt. His breath ghosted past your skin, tongue darting out to taste. His eyes flickered up to yours, and he waited for the signal. Didn't rush, didn't push. He was content where he was until you were ready.

You nodded, hand running through his messy locks. He smiled, fingers hooking in the waistband of both your shorts and panties, pulling them down in one big motion, tossing them on the floor with your shirts.

He paused, breathing heavy as his eyes scanned you. He licked his lips, hands rubbing your thighs and slowly pushing them apart. "So fuckin' beautiful," he murmured, leaning in and pressing his tongue flat against your slit.

You moaned, head falling into the mattress as he began eating you out. His lips sealed around your swollen clit, sucking softly as his tongue swirled. His hands massaged your thighs gently, leaving your skin with goosebumps and your breath heavy with desire.

He was lapping at you like a dog starved, and honestly, that's what he felt like. He moaned against your pussy, tongue tasting every bit of you he could. "Fuck," you breathed out, hands tugging at his hair.

He groaned, tongue flicking over your clit faster. You cried out softly, back bowing once more as you pressed your hips into his face. He slowly pulled back, your slick covering his face as you both panted.

"Sorry, baby, but I gotta feel this pretty pussy," he murmured deeply, hands going to his sweats and untying the drawstring.

You swallowed, nodding as you smiled softly, a little dizzy from it all. You reached over, opening your bedside drawer and pulling out a condom. John smirked. "Oh?"

You giggled. "Safety first, John Logan. Don't make it weird."

He slipped his sweatpants and boxers off, and your breath left your body at the sight of him. He smirked, grabbing the condom from you. "Nothing weird about safety, baby." He leaned down, kissing you deeply, hand on your jaw as he did so. "I'll be gentle. So fucking gentle, I promise."

You nodded, kissing him deeper, before pulling back. "I trust you."

He smiled, a real, genuine smile. "Good. I'd never hurt you."

He opened the package, rolling the condom on. He grabbed your leg, hooking it over his hip as he lined himself up. "Ready?" he asked softly.

You nodded. "Been ready for this for a while," you murmured, a small smile on your face. He chuckled, slowly pushing in, just enough for you to feel the stretch.

You moaned and so did he, the feeling of you amazing. He kissed your cheek, your temple, your jaw, your neck—pretty much everywhere he could as he slowly pushed in a little more, letting you adjust the size of him.

"Fuck, John," you moaned softly, nails digging into his bad.

"That feel good, angel?" he murmured against your skin, and you nodded, moaning.

He rolled his hips once, pushing in a little more until he was about halfway, and then he stopped, not wanting to push you too far or hurt you. His hips stilled, letting you adjust as he kissed your skin softly.

His breathing was heavy, small moans and whines escaping his lips as the feeling of you fluttering around him. "Feel so good," he murmured. "Fuckin' made for me."

You moaned, and he grabbed your other leg, hooking it over his other hip and deepening the angle. You cried out softly, his hips starting to move slowly, deeply, letting himself feel every rub against your walls.

"Fuck, angel," he moaned, sucking your collarbone. His hips slowly sped up, your moans filling his ears as he made love to you. It wasn't just fucking, it was deeper. It was raw and real and everything he'd been wanting for so long.

"You're fuckin' mine, you know that?" he murmured into your jaw, moving so his eyes were on you. "Look at me," he whispered. Your eyes fluttered open, full of pleasure as you moaned. HIs hips never stopped, never faltered, just drove into your deeper and deeper until your legs were shaking.

"Mine," he repeated, kissing you deeply. You nodded against him frantically, moaning into his lips.

His hand came down, slipping between you and finding your swollen clit, thumb rubbing tight circles. You whimpered in pleasure, head tossing back as your nails dug into his back, spurring him on. "Feel good?" he rasped, hips continuing to hit that spot inside of you.

You moaned, nodding. "Use your words, pretty girl," he told you.

"Y-yes. Fuck! Yes!"

Your moans got louder as your legs started tightening, and John continued, wanting to feel you come around him, needing it.

"Fuck, that's it, baby. Let me feel you."

You cried out as your orgasm crashed over you, your back bowing and nails scraping down his back as your toes curled and your pussy pulsed. You gasped, legs shaking as you tried to ground yourself in the moment.

John hummed, moaning against you as he worked you through it. His own orgasm crashed over him seconds later, and he twitched deep inside of you, head buried in your neck as he whined. "Fuckk," he choked out, hips continuing to roll against you, dragging your pleasure out.

You were panting below him, whimpering every time his cock moved inside of you. "Fuck, I love you, baby," he murmured, hips slowing down to a stop. "I love you so fucking much."

He lifted his head, kissing you deeply even as you both panted and tried to come down. You moaned into his lips, nodding. "I love you."

The first time your car decided to give out, you went where your parents had told you to. Some random auto-shop far too expensive for most people.

And it worked. For a little.

Three days later, your car broke down on the side of the road. It was close to midnight and you were sure as hell you were going to get murdered. So, you called Hannah to come get you. You were halfway through a conversation when she reminded you she had no car.

"Fuck, Hannah, what am I gonna do?" you grumbled, running a hand over your face.

"No worries. Logan can come get you, and he can fix your car."

You sucked in a breath. John Logan. The name was too familiar. The smell of his cologne still lingered in the air at times when you thought too hard. The feel of him against you, his hands on you, his lips on you.

You tried to shake the thought away. It was one hookup five months ago. Granted, it was also the last time you had a conversation with him for your own sanity, but still.

"Is there anyone else?"

Like Hannah knew you were going to say that, she simply replied, "Nope." And hung up.

You cursed, shoving your phone in your pocket and waited. You knew he'd come. He's just that type of guy. Your doors were locked and you were half-tempted to just start walking home if it weren't for your anxiety.

Ten minutes after you sent your location to Hannah, headlights appeared in your rearview, and a truck slowed down, pulling up behind you. You sighed, sucking in a breath and unlocking your doors, getting out.

Logan stepped out, sweatpants hanging low and shirt clearly just thrown on. Now, you felt a little bad. He was clearly sleeping before this. He walked over to you, the weight on your chest getting heavier as he came more into view.

You'd seen him around, sure, but you hadn't looked. Not until now. His stubble had grown out more, his hair a little longer. He looked more tired than usual, and it didn't seem to be just because of you waking him up at almost midnight.

Still, he smirked, giving no indication that he was upset, and leaned against your car, tapping the hood. "Car trouble?"

You rolled your eyes, although there wasn't much heat in it. "Obviously."

A chuckle. "Well, no way in hell can I fix it tonight. Grab your stuff, let's go."

You wanted to argue. Wanted to get angry that he was going to leave your car on the side of the road for anyone to have, but you didn't. Because logically, you knew he was right. It was too dark, too late, and there wasn't anything around.

He didn't have a shop full of tools and he wasn't superman.

Still, the thought of leaving your car behind sucked.

Logan noticed. "I'll have it towed to my family shop. No worries."

That, unfortunately, made you feel a little better. With a small nod, you grabbed everything important out of your car. The legal documents, your wallet and charger, and your duffle bag you had from spending the night at Allie and Hannah's last night.

You locked the car and shoved your keys in your pocket, following Logan to his truck. The walk was silent, and it was even more silent when you got in the vehicle. Logan called a tow truck, before he put the truck in drive and headed down the road.

For a moment, it was complete silence aside from the hum of his truck. Then...

"You look nice," he said simply. Your eyes flicked over to him for a second, seeing him looking between you and the road, before you glanced away. "Different, a little. Nice haircut."

You swallowed. "Thanks."

The awkwardness was killing you. Mostly because it was clearly only awkward to you. He seemed fine. Like the five months in between his dick in you and now didn't affect him at all. Why would it? It was just a hookup.

He did plenty of that.

You, however, didn't. And you'd been wondering why you did it with him ever since it happened.

"You need a haircut."

Logan laughed at that, low and soft and it went right to your stomach. You were fucked. You had to get out of this truck. "Yeah, I know."

The sound of the blinker pulled your focus, and you realized then that he wasn't heading to your apartment. Duh. Why would he? He had no idea where you lived.

"My apartment is the other way," you said.

"Good thing we're not going there."

The answer was simple enough. Full of confidence and certainty. But it made you spiral internally. Enough so that you asked, "Why?"

"It's almost midnight and you live on the other side of town. Hannah's at the house anyway."

"How do you know that?"

Your eyes met his. He smirked slightly, before looking back at the road. He didn't answer. You didn't like it.

You swallowed, eyes watching out the window as he drove. But there were things unspoken, things you wanted to scream out and things you never wanted to say at all.

Soon, he pulled up to the house, parking the truck and turning it off. He made no move to get out. Neither did you.

"Why'd you disappear?"

The question came unexpectedly. Soft and calm, but full of something you couldn't place. It made your heart race and your stomach drop. You didn't look at him. "Why does it matter?" you replied.

It wasn't meant to be a jab or a comeback, just a simple question, but it hit like one anyway. You felt the tension in the air the second you said it, and you had to swallow a lump that formed in your throat.

Silence. Silence so quiet it might've killed you if you let it.

"It was just a question," he finally said, voice barely above a whisper.

"So was mine."

"I asked first."

"We're not in middle school."

You finally looked at him, a small smile on his face from your words. You gave in quickly. "Because it was weird."

"What was?" He had genuine curiosity in his eyes.

"I don't...I'm not the type of girl who just hooks up with someone."

"I know."

Simple. Certain. It took your breath away and made a million questions run through your head.

"If you know, then—"

"You think I had sex with you as a one-off?" There was no defense in his voice, no anger. Maybe a little hurt, but mostly just genuine curiosity. Like the idea of it was other worldly.

You swallowed. "Well...yeah."

A small, humorless chuckle. "So, that's what you think of me, then?" A genuine question laced with something you couldn't place. Something that hit your chest and made your ribs crack under it.

"It's not a bad thing, Logan."

"Sounds like it."

You sighed. Questions still lingered. "So why did you have sex with me?"

"Because I wanted to." Simple enough, but it wasn't nearly enough to satisfy. He knew that. "Because I thought that it was clear just how much I wanted you when it happened. I guess things should've been clarified."

Your head spun, words bouncing around until you landed on one conclusion. "Wait." A pause, your eyes locked. "You wanted to go out with me?"

"No." Another pause. "I wanted you to be mine."

The air was thick. Heavy with tension of a different kind.

"Still do, somehow."

You swallowed, your eyes frantically searching his as if his brown depths would hold all the answers. "You do?"

"Kind of pathetic, right?" A humorless chuckle.

You shook your head. "No," you whispered.

Something about it solved the questions lingering between you two. His eyes flickered down to your lips, before he swallowed. "We should go inside."

A beat. "Yeah."

The doors opened as you two got out, you grabbing your stuff. You silently headed inside, and by the time you did, everyone was asleep or in their rooms doing something. You sucked in a breath, but didn't even get to head to the couch.

"My bed's big enough for two," he said simply, heading up the stairs. You paused for a moment, before following him up the stairs and into his room.

You dropped all your stuff by his door, looking around. The room was exactly the same as it was the last time you were in it. That made everything feel heavier. Logan went to his dresser, pulling out a shirt.

"Here."

He held it out. Your fingers brushed as you took it. "Thanks."

He nodded, yanking his shirt off and tossing it on his dresser. You took in a shaky breath, closing your eyes. You slowly unbuttoned your jeans, slipping them down your legs and then tossing them on your duffle bag next to your shoes. Your shirt came next, then your bra.  

Then you were in Logan's shirt, the consuming smell of him making you a little dizzy. Silently, you walked over to his bed, climbing in next to him.  

"I'm sorry." The words hung heavy in the air, but you needed to say them. "For disappearing. I got scared."

"I know."

You sighed, looking at him. His lamp light cast a small glow over his face, and he looked even more handsome than usual like this. "I wanted you too."

"Yeah?"

You nodded. "Still do."

A small smile appeared on his face, his hand sliding over your waist, pressing into the small of your back and pulling you closer. "Yeah?" he repeated.

You smiled softly. "Pathetic, huh?"

He shook his head as he leaned in. "No."

Then he was kissing you. Soft and sure and full of everything you'd been missing since that night. But it didn't stay that way for long. Soon, his tongue was in your mouth and he was pulling you so close that you could feel the hard planes of his body.

You moaned softly into the kiss, and that's all it took for him. He was rolling over, pulling you on him, your legs straddling his hips as you made out. You could feel him hard and aching under you already, and it did bad things to your core.

He groaned, pulling back, breath heavy. "Fuck, I'm out of condoms."

For all of two seconds, the world stopped, but then you were kissing him again, deeper this time. "I'm on birth control."

He groaned into the kiss, flipping your bodies so he was on top, your legs wrapping around his waist. "Can't say things like that to me," he murmured into your lips.

You giggled, gasping as he pressed his hips into yours. "Why not?"

"Makes me wanna fuckin' try my luck."

You moaned, his lips kissing down to your neck. You sucked in a breath, whining softly as he sucked on the sensitive skin, his hips rolling into yours.

"John," you whined softly, tugging at his hair.

He all but growled into your skin, pulling back. "That desperate, huh?"

There was no embarrassment right now. "Been thinking about you for five months. So, yeah."

He smirked, not bothering with his shirt on you and going straight for your panties, yanking them down in one swift motion.

"Tell me what you want, pretty girl."

There was no hesitation. "You. Fuck me."

His hands gripped your thighs, massaging them as he spread your legs. "Ask nicely."

You wanted to wipe the smirk off his face for all of two seconds before his thumb was pressing against your throbbing clit, rubbing slow circles.

You moaned softly, back arching. "Please," you whined.

"Please what?"

"Please fuck me."

He hummed, rubbing his thumb up and down your slit, making you crazy with lust. His other hand worked his sweatpants until he was bare in front of you and all you wanted in that moment was his cock inside of you.

"Are you sure? There's absolutely zero promise of me pulling out," he said seriously, his thumb stopping its movement on your pussy.

You nodded. "I'm sure."

He nodded back, leaning down and kissing you, replacing his thumb with his cock, rubbing the tip up and down your slit, collecting your slick as you both moaned. "Been thinking 'bout this pussy every day for five months," he groaned into your lips, the tip of his cock catching on your entrance with each pass.

You whimpered, pulling him closer by his hair, one hand grasping his back as best you could. His cock slowly pushed into you, not stopping until your legs were shaking slightly from the pressure of him being completely inside of you.

"Fuck, feels so fuckin' good," he grumbled deeply, teeth nipping at your jaw.

He started moving, slowly at first. Deep thrusts that sent your nails raking down his back and your eyes rolling back slightly as your mouth fell open in silent cries. His lips never stopped working your skin, marking everywhere he could get to and making sure everyone knew you were his.

"Oh, fuck," you cried out softly, his thrusts getting faster and deeper as he continued.

"Yeah? Feel good, pretty?" You nodded frantically, nails digging into his back as he fucked you. He chuckled. "Use your words."

"Y-yes, oh, fuck."

He grabbed your leg, hiking it up over his shoulder and deepening the angle so good you let out a louder moan than intended. "There ya go. Let me hear you."

His hips never slowed, never stopped. He was hitting that spot in you so deep and with every thrust. You were clenching around him every time he did it, and he moaned every single time. "Fuck, you're mine now, huh?"

You moaned in response, but it wasn't enough for him. He pulled his head back, looking at you. "Look at me, pretty girl. Tell me you're mine."

Your eyes fluttered open slowly, half-lidded and full of pleasure as you stared at him, face contorting in pleasure as he continued hitting that spot deep inside you. "Fuck, I'm yours. So yours."

He groaned, leaning in and kissing you messily, all teeth and tongue as his thrusts got harder. Not by much, but enough to make your toes curl. "Oh, fuck- John..." you whimpered.

"I know. I can feel this pretty pussy squeezing me. I've got you. Let go for me."

You moaned, nails surely leaving red marks in their wake as your orgasm crashed over you, making your head dizzy and your thighs shake as your pussy pulsed.

He kept fucking you through it, thrusting deep in you and prolonging your pleasure until you were sure you were going to lose all ability to function.

"Fuck, fuck," he groaned, cock twitching in you as he got closer.

Your legs locked around him, keeping him inside of you and giving him no chance of pulling out. That did it for him. One, two, three more deep thrusts and he was spilling in you, causing both of you to moan as his head dug into your shoulder, his hips stuttering.

He fucked you through his orgasm slowly, before coming to a stop, panting. Your breathing was heavy as you laid there, arms and legs still wrapped around him, holding him close.

Your hand came up, carding through his hair as you kissed his temple. "Fuck, that was amazing," you whispered.

He smiled into your skin, lazy and satisfied as he nodded. "Mmm, you have no fuckin' clue, baby."

You were nervous. A nervous wreck, really. Part of you was convinced this was all some ploy, but Hannah told you otherwise. "He's not like that, I promise," she said. And you chose to believe her. You had to believe her.

You wanted to.

You spent an hour getting ready, taking multiple pictures and sending them to Hannah and Allie for feedback. By the end, you were satisfied, even if still nervous. You waited anxiously on your couch for the text from Dean.

Twenty minutes later, there was a knock on your door. You swallowed. You hadn't expected him to actually come up to your door, but then again, you hadn't expected any of this. You stood up, walking over and opening the door.

Dean was holding flowers, a small smile on his face. His eyes raked over you, slowly and with no intention to hide his gaze. "Wow," he breathed out. You felt a little uncomfortable, not because of him, but because you weren't used to such an intense stare.

"Hi," you greeted softly, a small smile on your face.

"Hi," he repeated back. He held his hand out with the flowers, and you took them slowly. "I, uh, I asked Hannah what your favorites were."

You smiled a little brighter at that, sniffing the flowers and nodding. "That's sweet. Come in, let me put these in a vase."

He followed you inside, sitting on your couch as you searched your kitchen for a vase and set the flowers up on your countertop. Once you were done, Dean stood up, holding out his hand. "Shall we?"

You nodded. "We shall."

He chuckled, leading you out of your house, letting you lock your door, before leading you to his car. He opened the door for you, before rounding the car and getting in. "Where are we going?" you asked.

Dean smiled. "That's a surprise, sweetheart." You swallowed, not the biggest fan of surprises. Dean glanced at you. "Trust me. Hannah gave me all I needed to know."

That made you feel a little more at ease. You thought it was sweet he took the time to ask Hannah about you, but you tried not to let it go to your head. After all, you needed to be realistic. You doubted very seriously that you two were actually compatible.

Still, he let you pick the music and the talk in the car was easy and friendly, like it just flowed. You didn't get into deep conversations and you didn't ask many questions outside of the basic ones, saving all of that for when you got to wherever you were going.

Soon, you pulled up to your all-time favorite restaurant, and a small smile encompassed your face. Dean looked at you, a smile on his. "See, some surprises are worth it, hm?"

You giggled, nodding. Dean got out, rounding the car and opening your door, holding his hand out. You took it gladly, letting him guide you out of the car and into the restaurant. You were seated in a booth, Dean across from you as you both ordered your drinks.

"What do you like most about this place?" Dean asked once the waitress left.

"The atmosphere. I'm big on energy, and the energy here is always so good."

Dean nodded, eyes studying you. Not critically or anything, just a small glint in his look that made you aware he was taking notes. "I have to ask," you started. "Why'd you wanna go on a date with me?"

Dean tilted his head, like the question was the most puzzling thing in the world. "Why wouldn't I? You're beautiful and kind."

You shook your head, giggling. "No, I mean...you're not the type to go on dates, Dean."

Dean nodded, his throat working as he swallowed. "Well, maybe it's time to change that."

It was your turn to tilt your head, but the question remained unasked as the waitress brought your drinks. You both took a few minutes to look at the menu before ordering your food. By the time the waitress left once again, the energy had changed slightly.

Not bad. Just...different.

"So, hockey's not your thing. What is?"

Dean's forearms were on the table, him leaning in slightly as if what you were about to say was the most important thing in the world. You smiled slightly. "Peace."

The answer was simple, but somehow, Dean didn't need to ask any follow-ups. He just nodded, taking note of what you said.

"What's your favorite thing about hockey?" you asked.

Dean thought for a second. "The team. Nothing's better than a good team. Sure, the ice is nice, the game is cool, and the winning is amazing, but I'd be nothing out there without my boys. Don't tell them I said that, though."

You giggled, a genuine smile on your face. That was honestly the last thing you expected him to say, especially as a defenseman. "Secret's safe with me, Dean."

"Thanks, sweetheart." He smiled back at you, soft and small like it was the most raw thing he'd ever done. "Favorite place?"

You tilted your head in thought. "I think maybe the creek behind my old house. It's full of nature and peace and I really enjoyed reading out there. Like nothing could get me when I was with the Earth."

Dean smiled. "Hannah tells me you're an art major. Why's that?"

You shrugged. "It's just always drawn me. I get to be creative and speak through what I make. I can be anything, I can do anything, and I think that's pretty beautiful."

A nod from him. "That is pretty awesome."

You giggled. "You're pretty good at the whole 'date' thing."

His smile widened. "Yeah?"

You nodded. "Yeah."

"Well, good. I'm glad it's not miserable for you," he teased, but there was an underline of truth.

You shook your head. "Not at all."

The conversation flowed easily. It was comfortable and nice, like every word each of you said was meant to pass your lips and reach the other's ears. Dean's smile never faded, and neither did yours. He asked every question you'd never expected him of all people to ask.

You asked the ones you wanted to know the most. Things were easy and simple with him, and you were finding yourself a lot less skeptical than you were when the date started. Somehow, someway, it felt like you and him were compatible.

You tried to stay neutral, you tried not to get your hopes up, but it was hard. He was Dean, and he was staring at you like the world was at your feet. It felt unreal, truly. Like this was all some dream you'd wake up from and it'd be over.

But it wasn't.

The food arrived, and you took your time eating. You'd trained yourself in the art of eating slowly, to lessen the image that people automatically had over you. Dean, however, was not a slow eater. Nor did he care.

Nor did he have to.

You took a bite of your pasta, eyeing Dean as he cut into his steak. His thirty-five dollar steak. You honestly couldn't believe he'd pay that, but you should've known better. "So why Briar U?" he asked, taking a bite of his steak.

You raised an eyebrow, swallowing your bite of pasta. "Hm?"

"I mean, why'd you choose it? Hannah's mentioned just how smart you are."

You blushed slightly, shaking your head. "She's dramatic."

"I doubt that."

You giggled. The honest answer was a heavier one. One you weren't sure he really wanted to hear. Despite that doubt, you decided to tell him anyway. Honesty was something you were fond of. "Out of all the colleges I got accepted to, it was the best one that was furthest away."

Dean paused at that, questions in his eyes that you weren't sure he'd ask. "Furthest away from what?" You swallowed softly, like you were scared to answer, but were going to anyway. Dean noticed. "You don't have to answer that. I'm being nosy."

You shook your head, a soft smile on your face. "It's okay, I don't mind." You shrugged, taking a sip of your pink lemonade. "My family, mostly. They're...something. I dunno. It's best if we're on opposite sides of the country."

Dean nodded slowly, not pushing anymore. Even if it was clear he wanted to. "I assume you chose Briar for the hockey program?"

Dean smiled. "Yeah, couldn't really pass up that."

You giggled. "Guess not, huh?"

Dean was halfway done with his steak by the time you got a quarter of your pasta down, and honestly, you were already kind of full. You ate just fine in front of Hannah or by yourself, but right now? The thought of eating the entire dish made you slightly nauseous.

You weren't sure why, probably some deep-rooted problem you weren't putting effort into figuring out.

Dean eyed you for a second, eyes flicking down to your plate. "We can take that to-go, if you want," he said, his voice smooth and soft.

You nodded slightly. "Yeah, yeah. Sorry."

Dean furrowed his brows. "For what?"

You shrugged, chuckling softly. "Just feels like I'm wasting, even though I know I'm not."

He tilted his head. "Even if you did, I wouldn't care. Don't force yourself."

You looked at him, eyes searching his for a moment. "Yeah," you whispered.

Dean put his cutlery down, calling a waitress over for two to-go containers. "You don't have to—"

"No, it's okay. I'm already kind of full and I did promise Logan some steak anyway," he said, a smile on his face like this was no trouble at all.

You smiled back softly, even if you didn't really believe him. The gesture was sweet.

Once your food was in to-go containers and Dean paid for the meal, you were leaving the restaurant. Dean opened your door for you and you got in his car, watching as he rounded it. You let out a small, shaky breath before he got in.

Once he was in and the car was on, he looked at you. "Am I taking you home, or is there anything else you wanna do?" he asked genuinely.

You looked at him. "Honestly? I'd love to keep this going, but I have an assignment to finish unfortunately." You looked at him apologetically, and he nodded.

"No worries, sweetheart. There's always next time." He flashed his award-winning smile at you, and you giggled.

"Oh, so there's going to be a next time?"

"Only if you want there to be, of course."

Dean started down the street. You nodded. "Yeah, I do."

His smile widened, but he didn't say anything. The ride to your house was filled with random music from the radio and the occasional short conversation from the two of you, but it was comforting. Warm and soft like it was right where you were meant to be.

When you pulled up, Dean did what he'd done all night. Got out and opened your door, helping you out of the car and then walking you up to your house. You turned around and looked up at him as you reached your door.

"Thank you for tonight, Dean. Really."

He smiled softly. "Anytime, sweetheart."

You stood on your tip-toes, kissing his cheek softly, before pulling back. Your faces were close now, and you didn't miss the way his eyes glanced at your lips. He didn't make a move, though. "Goodnight," you whispered.

"Goodnight," he whispered back.

You turned around, unlocking your door and walking in, giving him one last wave before closing your door and locking it. You sighed out contently, a small smile on your face that stayed for the rest of the night.

It started simple, casual, easy. Dean had come to your room long past midnight when neither of you could sleep, the way it usually ended up. The conversation bounced from topic to topic before Dean got a little flirty and ended up asking you how many times you've come in one night.

The answer made his jaw drop. None. No guy had ever made you come.

"You're serious? No bullshit?" he asked, squinting his eyes to figure out what was true.

You laughed. "Is it really that unbelievable?"

Dean huffed, motioning wide with his hands. "Yeah! I mean...shit, sweetheart, that's tragic. Really."

You rolled your eyes. "Oh, and I'm assuming you've made every girl you've been with come?"

He stopped, looking dead serious. "Well...yeah. That's kind of the whole point."

Your smile fell slowly. "Seriously? Every time?"

He chuckled in disbelief. "I know what I'm doing, sweetheart."

Somehow, the air changed, and you swallowed. Something in you was brave tonight, and the next words out of your mouth surprised you both. "Show me." Dean didn't move, didn't breathe. He just stared. Stared for a second too long and you were backing out. "I didn't mean— well, okay, fuck—"

And then he was on you, pushing you down until your back hit the mattress, his lips sliding against yours desperately. His hands gripped your waist and hair, tight but not hurtful. "Fuck, thought you'd never ask," he murmured into your lips.

You gasped into the kiss, quickly catching up to his movements and sliding your fingers through his hair, tugging. He groaned, pressing his hips into yours, grinding. You moaned at the feel of him, half-hard and still big.

He pulled back suddenly, panting as he stared down at you. "If we're doin' this, we're doin' it right." You furrowed your brows at his words, sitting up as he stood up. He sat on the edge of the bed, grabbing your hand. "C'mere, baby."

Your neck and face heated up slightly at his words, but you followed his command, moving over to him. He lifted you up and placed you on his lap, his hands gripping your hips as he leaned in and sucked softly on your neck.

You bared your neck, eyes closing as he suckled, a soft sigh leaving your lips. His hands guided your hips, moving you back and forth slowly over him. You moaned softly from the friction, hand coming up to grip the hair at the nape of his neck.

"Oh, hell," you moaned softly, trying to speed up your hips. But Dean just kept them where he wanted them, at his pace.

"Mm, nah, baby, this is gonna be heaven. Gonna make you feel so fuckin' good."

He forced those slow rolls of your hips until you were whining, your head on his shoulder as you felt the wetness seeping through your panties and onto your jeans. Dean was more than hard by the end of it, his cock aching and begging for more, but he stayed patient.

This was all about you.

Hickeys were sucked dark into your neck, and your nipples were hard from the sensation, straining against your bra. Dean stopped your hips, his hands tugging your shirt up and you let him, arms going up to help him get your top off.

The bra came soon after, and then his lips were sucking on one nipple, his fingers pinching the other. You arched into him, moaning. "Fuck, Dean," you whimpered.

Dean hummed into your skin, switching nipples and repeating the process until you were withering. His lips kissed at the valley in between your tits, his tongue lapping at your skin as he popped open the button of your jeans.

He manhandled you onto the bed, your back hitting the mattress, your tits bouncing. Dean yanked your jeans down, tossing them somewhere before diving down, pressing sloppy kisses to your thighs.

His fingers dug into your flesh, spreading your legs apart as he continued kissing toward your soaked panties. He was like a man starved, his teeth scraping against your skin and his tongue soothing each pass. He finally got to your panties, pressing a kiss to the soaked center.

"Look at you, all desperate for it." He chuckled, eyes flicking up to look at you. You were a panting mess, your chest heaving and your eyes locked on his.

He massaged your thighs, pushing your legs up into a bended position, spreading you open more. "Don't move," he told you, pulling back to yank his shirt off. He moved up, muscles flexing as he hovered over you.

Your hand glided down his body, nails scraping against his abs, before your fingers hooked in the waistband of his jeans. Dean chuckled, leaning down and kissing you desperately. All teeth and tongue and it took your breath away.

He pulled away, quickly shedding his jeans and leaving him only in his boxers, soaked with pre-cum and hiding none of his hard-on. He pressed his hips into yours, grinding as he sucked at your jaw.

You moaned and he pressed harder, dragging his clothed dick against your soaked panties. "Ah- fuck," he growled, teeth nipping at your skin. "Feel so fucking good, sweetheart."

"Dean..." You grabbed his head, forcing him to look at you. "Fuck me."

Dean's eyes flickered over your face, a smirk on his lips. "Patience is a virtue, baby," he said, before yanking your panties down. He freed his cock from his boxers, and the look on your face told him all he needed to know.

He dragged the head up and down your slit, causing both of you to let out small, desperate noises. "Fuck- so goddamn wet."

The head caught on your entrance with every pass, and every time he pushed in a little further, causing you to moan. He leaned down, one arm placed by your head, holding him up as he hovered over you. The other hand gripped himself, lining him up with your entrance.

He kissed you deeply, pushing in slowly. Your mouth fell open in a quiet whimper, nails digging into his back at the sheer size of him. The stretch was deliciously painful. Dean groaned into your lips, the feel of your wet heat causing his head to spin.

"Dean- fuck," you moaned, head falling back into the pillow.

He stopped about halfway, stilling so that you could fully adjust. He gave small, shallow thrusts, forcing your pussy to stretch around his dick. His hand came down, thumb slowly rubbing circles over your puffy clit.

You whimpered, digging your face into his shoulder. He chuckled, deepening his thrusts until he was fully inside, feeling the way your legs shook slightly. "Hell, baby, you take me so fuckin' good," he murmured, nibbling your earlobe.

His thrusts stayed slow, pulling halfway out and then pushing back in, getting you used to the feeling of him. He did that for what felt like forever, dragging his cock along your walls in a way that made him crazy.

His thumb never stopped its ministrations on your clit—pausing for a second to hike your leg up over his shoulder, but he went right back to it.

The angle had changed now, deeper and far more pleasurable, and you moaned right into his ear when he thrusted particularly hard. "Yeah?" He chucked against your jaw.

You whined, nodding. Dean did it again, and then again, before he fully sped up and started pounding into you like it was all he was made to do. Your nails dragged down his back as you whined out, legs shaking as he sped up his assault on your clit.

"So fucking good," he praised into your ear, pulling almost all of the way out before slamming back in.

"Oh!" you moaned, voice cracking as your head dug into the pillow, toes curling. "Dean, oh, fuck!"

Dean groaned against you, repeating the motion again and again just to hear the noises from your mouth. "Say my name like that again," he panted against your ear. "Fuckin' love how you moan my name."

He sucked on your neck, keeping his pace. "Dean!" you cried out, nails digging into his skin enough to send sparks through him, causing him to moan.

"Fuck, sweetheart, you're so good f'me," he murmured, pulling his head back to look at you. Your eyes were closed, mouth open in small moans and pants. "Look at me."

You whimpered, eyes fluttering open and struggling to stay that way as he continued thrusting. "I'm-"

"Good," Dean interrupted. "Wanna feel you come on my cock. Wanna watch those pretty eyes as you do."

You nodded, speechless as he forced the orgasm from you finally. Your moans were broken as you arched, legs shaking as your pussy clamped down around him, pulsing as your climax overtook you.

Dean moaned, leaning in and kissing you through it as he spilled inside of you. You gasped into his mouth at the feeling, hands grabbing at his hair. "Oh, fuck," you whined, nodding at the feeling.

Slowly, you both came down and Dean stopped, taking his time slipping out of you. You were both panting and he brought his hand up, brushing the hair from your face. "Feel good?" he asked, smirking.

You closed your eyes, nodding. "Mhm."

He leaned in, kissing your neck softly. "Good. Told you I know what I'm doing."

You giggled, leaning into his touch. "Shut up."