#mamaimpala

Dean’s lips were roughly pressed against yours. You knew that they would be puffy and swollen afterward. His hands grabbed your hips, pulling you close so that your body was flush against his own. He pulled his lips away and stared at you, a mixture of anger, worry, and lust swimming around in his emerald eyes.

“I could have lost you,” he grumbled and kissed you once more.

You let out a small whimper and opened your mouth to say something before he kissed you again. You felt a slight pain in your chest. You knew that your ribs were bruised. During the earlier hunt, you and the boys had gotten your share of bumps and bruises from the earlier hunt. Werewolves were never kind to hunters.

There was a moment when the boys were cornered, weapons scattered, like they normally would. The werewolf towered over them, yellow teeth bared and drool dribbling down his jaw. You were the one with the silver knife. You were the one that had the opportunity to save them. So you took it.

You wrapped your fingers tightly around the blade handle, stalking over and grabbing the hair on top of his neck, pulling it back to get his attention. You stabbed the blade into his back, earning a howl from the creature. He reached back and grabbed your arm roughly, claws digging into the skin. With his other arm, he slammed you against the ground. His claws wrapped around your throat, the pressure cutting off your airway.

This allowed Dean and Sam some time to grab their own weapons - revolvers that contained six silver bullets - and aim them at the back of the monster’s head. Dean was the one that pulled the trigger first, allowing you to drop to the ground. Without your quick thinking, the boys would have died and without their quick thinking, you would have as well. Still, that didn’t stop Dean from getting mad.

He wanted to feel your whole body against his. To make sure that you were still there with him. That you were not going anywhere any time soon. He wanted that guarantee and, in that moment, he was receiving it. As your skin was touching his and your lips were caressing his, he was able to feel like you were with him. Forever.

Dean’s rough hands cupped your cheeks as he pulled away from the kiss and stared into your eyes. “Don’t you ever do that again. Do you understand me?”

You opened your mouth to object, but Dean spoke again as if he was able to tell what you were going to say.

“Do you understand me?” His tone was more dominant as he let out a small growl and shook his head.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “I understand.” You whispered.