5 Times Chloe Knew Dean Was In Love With Her - NC17 - Chloe/Dean - Part 5/5
Title: Five Times Chloe Knew Dean Was In Love With Her
Cateogory: Smallville/Supernatural [Crossover]
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Romance/Humor
Pairing: Chloe/Dean
Summary: Five instances where Chloe Sullivan knew Dean Winchester was completely in love with her.
Previous: Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV,
5 Times Chloe Knew Dean Was In Love With Her
5/5
V
Her back hit the wall - hard - but she was too involved with the hot mouth currently slanting across hers to care about knocking the cheap pictures from their nails. Maybe later, she could blame it on adrenaline, but for right now she was just drowning in his touch. For too long she'd wanted this and now that she had it, her common sense was completely turned off. He just felt so good, tasted so delicious...
She didn't even wonder where Sam was; where he'd disappeared off to after the hunt that obviously turned out well. Celebrating a good hunt had all new meaning in that moment. Usually they hit a bar, she got a little tipsy while dancing to the oldies blaring from the juke box and Dean scammed a few locals for pool while Sam enjoyed a beer and let go of his "emo funk" as Dean called it to enjoy the night. But now Dean was running his hands down her sides, his thumbs flicking along the curves of her breasts and she whimpered against his mouth, her jaw going slack for a second and his tongue taking charge as it tangled with hers.
He gripped her hips tightly and she jerked forward instinctively, her pelvis pressing against his. The groan he gave was long and deep, making her stomach flip and tighten in anticipation. He pressed against her harder, his entire body seeming to swamp her petite form. She could feel the rock hard evidence of his approval snug against the juncture of her thighs and her legs tightened around his waist.
His mouth detached from hers and she inhaled deeply, her head falling back, banging against the wall painlessly. She ran her hand down the back of his hair, feeling it brush against her palm as she ran it back up before tightening her fingers in the short brown strands. His lips found her neck, suckled it hotly as his teeth and tongue marked her. Her eyes fluttered to half mass, sightlessly staring at the faded whitish-grey of the motel ceiling.
She wasn't sure what brought them here. One minute they were killing some beast-like demon and the next Dean had her hauled up in his arms, his mouth working magic on her lips. Given just how hazy her mind was, she almost thought whatever demon they'd been fighting was more of a djinn and simply granted one of more nc-17 rated dreams involving a certain stubborn and sarcastic Winchester. But she was a little too caught up to really care if it was real or not; because damn did it ever feel real and she couldn't muster anything in her to deny him.
His rough hands slid up her shirt, running over her hips and along her ribs, finger flicking out and making her squirm at the slightly ticklish sensation. She smiled, letting out a breathless chuckle as he did it again, but any laughter was completely forgotten when his hands slid beneath the lace of her bra to cup her breasts. A drawn out moan escaped her, her body arching up, pressing even closer to him. His thumbs flicked against her nipples, massaging them slowly, calloused pads only making the feeling all the more intense. She rocked her hips against him, chewing her lip almost painfully. She could barely remember to breathe, so caught up in the way he was making her body quiver and twitch against him.
Her neck missed the heat of his mouth as his head ducked, lips finding her ribs, kissing along the sensitive flesh, making her fingers tighten in his hair. Her hands fall lower, nails scraping down the back of his neck before she gripped his shoulders. She nearly tore his shirt as his lips clasped around her breast, suckling it into the heat of his mouth, his tongue and teeth teasing her into whimpering his name. He was mumbling something but she could barely make out her own incoherent thoughts and just enjoyed the flow of ecstasy as it streamed through her body.
And then his mouth parted from her chest and he panted harshly. "We should stop," he said, swallowing tightly and licking his lips.
That got her full attention. "What? Why? No!" She said, shaking her head.
He lifted a shoulder, shaking his head slightly and then he was kissing her other breast, small little brushes of his lips all around her nipple, his breath skittering over her skin. His hands slid down her back, following the curve of her spine until they found her hips and then he was undoing her jeans and running his fingers along the top of her panties, skimming just beneath the band to caress her skin.
He stopped again, pressing his forehead against the valley of her breasts. He groaned in frustration. "No. We really need to stop," he said, shaking his head back and forth, his hair brushing against her with the movement.
She turned her head up and glared at the ceiling. It wasn't a djinn, it was trickster! It had to be, because this was cruel and unusual behavior for Dean!
With an inward-groan, she couldn't even imagine what would cause him - Dean freakin' Winchester - to stop in the middle of a heated make out session. So instead of trying anything logical, like asking him what the deal was, she rocked her hips, slow but purposeful, rubbing the hardness that despite his protests was still very happy about what had happened. He moaned, the vibration warming her chest and then his lips were moving again, his tongue escaping to trail over her breast, feasting on her flesh, teeth nipping, lips smoothing. And he rocked back, pressing the large bulge up against her, making her thighs clench and her stomach squirm. She wanted her jeans off, she wanted her panties torn and thrown away entirely, she wanted him inside of her - yesterday!
His hands ran down her putt, cupped the cheeks, squeezing them in his large palms, pulling her so close, she felt he practically was inside of her already. And then his hands slid lower, fingers coming up from beneath her thighs, running along the seam of her jeans, teasing her through the denim where she could already feel her lacy panties becoming damp.
"Ohhhh..." She moaned, panting for air as it all seemed to escape her as she bit her lower lip and let her eyes fall closed.
He swirled his tongue around her nipple and then he was blowing on it, cool air skittering over her breast, making it flash with attention. She could feel her breast tighten, a tingling sensation rushing down her spine. And then the heat of his mouth was back, suckling her breast with vigor. His fingers flicked the zipper of her jeans down and somehow he fit his hand through the space to cup her warmly. She whimpered, eyes rolling to the back of her head as she felt the heat of his palm cover her slit entirely, pressing her already soaked panties up against her, the lace grazing her enticingly. Her legs twitched at his side, her hips rotating - wanting more. Her heels dug into his back, drawing him closer.
She ran her hands down his neck, nails grazing the tanned expanse before they splayed out over his shoulders, squeezing them as they tensed. She jerked as she felt his calloused finger running along the side of her panties, up and down the crevice where her thigh met her heat, teasing her. She dugs her fingers into him, flexing them briefly before pressing her nails desperately into his shoulder blades. She wanted to touch more of him, to feel his bare skin against hers. She bunched his shirt up beneath her fingers, tore it upward quickly before pulling it over his head until it was hanging at his forearms, between them. One arm separated to let it loose but he refused to pull his hand out from deep in her pants and so it hung there, over her denim clad thigh. She could care less though, now she had all of that hard, tanned skin of his to touch as she pleased and she did. The necklace he never took off hung between his pecs and she found her hand tracing it, around his neck and down his chest, before her fingers were branching out, teasing his skin with small circles that grew bigger and bigger, the end of her finger exploring his torso entirely. She watched as his chest flexed, tightened, his breathing hitched, drawing her eyes down to his protective tattoo. She leaned forward, pressed a kiss against it before falling lower, flicking her tongue over his nipple, her teeth briefly tightening around it before she arched her back as his fingers finally slid beneath her panties and touched her full on.
She could barely breathe. How long had they been playing this game? She wondered. It seemed like her entire life, she'd been waiting for this moment. But that was ridiculous, wasn't it? She couldn't have spent her life waiting for him - for Dean Winchester, ladies man and demon hunter. It was impossible! She fell for good-to-the-bone Clark Kent - the humble farmboy from Smallville, Kansas. He was nothing like Dean - Dean who was gruff and sarcastic, confident and arrogant, reeking of sexiness where Clark was inexperienced and sweet, nice and honorable, a one-woman-only kinda guy. He'd waited for Lana Lang for years, where Dean could only put up with women for one night only!
And he loved her... She knew that. It wasn't hard to figure out. Those rare occurrences where he let himself just be with her, even if he used all of his fake indifference to pretend like it was never anything big, she knew what he really meant by it all. The tenderness, the over-protective routine, remembering milestones in her life when he could barely remember his own, taking her out on a date and making sure she looked good in front of a guy he'd labeled unworthy in the first place, letting her drive the Impala! It was all so obvious! Sure she'd doubted it. A guy like him going for a girl like her... But he did and she wasn't sure when it started, but she knew that even if he never said it, he felt it.
He was stroking her firmly, his calloused fingers running up and down her folds, purposely avoiding entering her no matter how many times she jerked her hips in need. His mouth was all over her breasts, painting them with his lips, his tongue, his teeth, marking her. Her hands were running all around his torso, gripping him in tandem with the flick of his forefinger along her clit, reaching for his jeans, popping the button, lowering the zipper, sneaking her hand inside to cup him. The deep groan he gave reverberated through her chest, made her stomach squirm, her heat quiver. He was hard and ready and he felt so good even through the barrier of his boxer-briefs.
God, why did they wait this long? She wondered.
"Wait, wait, wait," he muttered, his mouth detaching from her and his head shaking again. His fingers stopped and his hips slid away from her hand slightly. "No, we gotta stop... We gotta..." He panted, swallowing tightly, making a mix between a growl and a curse. His hand slid out of her jeans and she whimpered at the movement, both in pleasure and irritation. He let her down slowly, carefully and then backed up, his expression pained. His shirt fell from his wrist to the floor and he backed up further, brow furrowed and mouth set in a grimace.
Some part of her couldn't help but think he looked utterly sexy in that moment. His hair in disarray, his jeans hanging loosely from his hips, undone, his boots still on and his chest littered with marks her mouth left behind, even his shoulders were scored from her fingernails.
He ran a hand down his face in frustration. "Ugh," he groaned. "My stupid upstairs brain isn't working!"
She couldn't help it; she snorted. "Good thing I don't want your upstairs brain right now."
"Hey!" He lifted a hand as if to chastise her. "Don't say stuff ike that - it's not helping!"
With a slight smirk, she walked closer, pulling her shirt and bra the rest of the way off and tossing them away, now she was just as bare as he was.
His eyes fell from hers, stared wantingly at her body. He licked his lips before blinking rapidly and shaking his head. "Nonononono! You stay over there!" He pointed toward the wall. "At least until the fog clears, all right? Good."
She rolled her eyes but stopped approaching him. "Care to tell me what's got you suddenly pushing the off button?"
"We can't do this," he exclaimed, his eyes widening with emphasis.
"You weren't complaining five minutes ago," she reminded.
"There's nothing to complain about," he replied, frowning. "But we just... can't."
She lifted a brow, gaze falling to the bulge still sitting obviously beneath his jeans.
"Hey! That's not the problem!" He crossed his arms over his chest, looking peeved that she'd even suggest he had troubles in that area.
She rolled her eyes. "I have first hand knowledge that it's not," she reminded easily. "But I'm still completely confused about why it isn't happening."
He cleared his throat, glancing away. "Always so goddamn curious," he muttered under his breath. "Just trust me, we shouldn't."
She put her hands on her hips, although she was pretty sure she didn't look quite as imposing given that she was topless. "Not good enough." She sighed. "You have thirty seconds to explain or this is the one and only time this ever gets close to happening. There's no second chances here." She wondered if he knew she was bluffing. She had a good poker face though and instead turned her gaze toward the cheap clock on the wall.
He made a huffing noise, his teeth clenching and his eyes moving from the clock back to her.
She almost felt bad, because he looked rather pained with the ultimatum.
"Fifteen seconds," she told him, bending forward to grab up her shirt. Dear god, she thought, answer the question and take your pants off!
He was muttering under his breath, licking his lips, shuffling his feet, and she knew that it had to be hard for him, because he just didn't do sappy confessions.
"Five seconds," she said with a sigh.
"Okay, okay, okay." He looked around the room, anywhere but at her, his hands falling to his hips. "Ilikeyou," he rushed out.
"What?" Her brow crinkled.
"I like you," he nearly shouted, glaring at her.
She managed to keep her laugh back. "I think I proved just how much I liked you when we were up against the wall," she half-teased.
"No, I mean, I don't just... like you like you." He shrugged with a half-chuckle. "I mean I do like you..." He smirked, eyes raking over her half-naked figure. "But I also like you."
She rolled her eyes. She was going to get him a thesaurus for his birthday, she decided. "A little clearer?"
He let out a heavy sigh, lowered his head with irritation and frowned. "Women are so friggin' difficult," he mumbled. When he looked back up at her, he was almost frowning. "I like you enough to want try this a little... differently."
Her brows rose and her mouth fell open. "You... You want to wait?"
"I dunno... How long is the wait?" He rubbed the back of his neck. "It's like three dates or something like that, right?"
She bit her lip so she wouldn't laugh. He really did look out of his element here. "More of just a... when the time is right thing... Generally, that's for people who are dating and don't really, uh, know each other..." Why did she feel like she was giving the birds and the bees explanation? "And since we already know each other, I'm not really... sure about how long..." She lifted a shoulder, smiling slightly as it brought his eyes right back down to her bare chest.
"Right so... It could be awhile or... not so long..." He scratched the back of his head, trying to force his eyes upward.
"Dean," she said, rather amused. "I know what you're trying to do and it's sweet, really. The whole wanting to try a real relationship first before jumping into bed, it's..." Another way for him to show just how much he really cared, but she wasn't going to say that because then he'd get even more awkward. "But honestly, we know each other. Really, really well and... Do you really want to wait?"
"No," he admitted. "But... Damn it!" He cleared his throat. "I don't want it to just... happen and then..." He closed his eyes, rubbing at his forehead for a moment. "I kinda love you."
Okay, so she wasn't actually expecting him to say it just yet. Her eyes widened as she stared at him in shock.
He opened his eyes slowly, staring at her both worried and expectantly.
"I, uh, I, um..." She swallowed tightly.
"Yeah." He laughed uncomfortably. "Look uh, I think I'm gonna go... to the bar... or something." He reached down and grabbed his shirt before clearing his throat and moving to walk past her.
Sense kicked in just as he was about to pass and her arm reached out, hand gripping his bicep and stopping him in his place. She wasn't stupid, she knew he was strong enough to shrug her off and keep going, but he stilled at her touch. He wouldn't look at her, eyes set darkly on the door, probably waiting for some pitiful pick me up.
"I'm sorry, I just... You caught me by surprise." She licked her lips, tugging on his arm to get him to turn toward her. He did so, purposely looking put out by the movement. He was still looking over her head though and she knew that declarations like the one he just made didn't come so easy to him so her reaction must've really hurt. He had his arms crossed over his chest so she rested her hands on his forearms, her fingers stroking back and forth. "I know how you feel; I have for a long time, I just..."
"Hey, you don't have to make excuses, right? Nobody said you had to feel the same."
She sighed. "I do."
His brow furrowed and his eyes fell down to her. "You do what?"
She smiled slightly. "I do feel the same."
"You...?" He shook his head back and forth questioningly.
She grinned them, chuckling under her breath. "I love you."
"Oh... Uh... I..." He nodded, apparently at a loss for words.
"Just kiss me," she told him, hand reaching up to wrap around his neck before drawing him down until their lips meet together without the stress of secret love or fear that it was just a one-night thing between friends. He kissed her more gently now, his hands sliding around her waist, fingers stroking along the line of her spine. He left her breathless, her body thrumming, her heart overpowering sound. His mouth parted from hers and travelled down her neck, his teeth grazing her flesh and making her head fall back, her body arch until most of her is pressed flat against him. He felt warm against the bareness of her flesh, his chest rubbing against hers, arousing her nipples once more.
His hands fell lower, hooked around her jeans and pushed them down, fingers skittering over the exposed skin of her butt. She shuffled until her pants were her ankles and then kicked them away. While he's occupied with her shoulders, her hands explore his back, the contours and muscles that flex with each touch until they've fallen low enough to push his jeans down. And then he's scooping her up into his arms, hands on the back of her thighs, so close to her damp center she nearly came on spot. His mouth was around her breast again, this time with no possibility of drawing away and calling it quits. He stumbled back toward the bed, hooked an arm around her waist to keep her steady and then laid her back across the blanket. He covered her, his body looking so large now, swamping her own. She inhaled his scent as his head ducked once more, mouth running down the center of her torso from collar to abdomen.
But she didn't want him to have all the fun; she's always been a take charge type and this was no different. So when he came back up to kiss her, she easily turned them over until she was on top. And she knew he could flip them back over without exerting himself; he was stronger and more agile than she was, even after years of being Watchtower and the sidekick to Superman himself. But he didn't, instead he smirked up at her, his eyes darker than usual. She took his hands, pinned them above his head and ducked low so her mouth was close enough to kiss him but she didn't. Her hair brushed against his cheeks and she bit his chin briefly before she buried her face in his neck, attached her mouth to his Adam's apple and sucked and nipped all around it. She continued down his chest, the farther she went her hands slid away from his and down his arms, along his biceps, across his shoulders until they were sitting on his chest, holding him down and then her tongue was running along the top of his boxer-briefs teasingly. She used her teeth to drag them down and she can tell he was already anticipating her as his stomach flexed and his breathing deepened.
He lifted his hips and a guttural moan escaped him as her tongue ran over his length, slow and firm. Her nails dug into his chest as she kissed up and down and all around, purposely drawing it all out. His hand reached for her, buried in her hair and she finally wrapped him with her lips, enveloping him as deep as he'd go. She didn't move at first, just let him sit there, surrounded by the heat of her cheeks and her tongue.
"Oh god," he moaned.
And then she was moving, up and down and swirling every which way, hollowing out her cheeks and letting her tongue zig-zag, making patterns and writing unseen words. Her hands slid down his chest and over his tense stomach until they were at his hips, running up and down the V that made up the sensitive flesh leading to his hard length. She could feel him twitching, could feel everything tightening and reacting. She pulled away before it got to be too much, so it didn't end before they've even started.
He gasped, his hand tightening in her hair, dragging her upward until their mouths slanted together again, fitting together just right. And then he was turning her over until the warmth of his body covered every inch of hers. His hands ran up and down her sides before sliding between her thighs and parting them, drawing them up around his hips. His knuckles grazed her inner-thighs, teasing her until he was drawing her wet panties aside and thrusting his fingers into her until she was crying out against his mouth; her gasps muffled by their tongues twining. Three fingers fill her, in and out until she's shaking and begging him with the noises from the back of her throat.
Her arms wrapped around him, hands digging into his back until he slid into her deeply, so full and thick and all-encompassing. Her body arched, neck straining as her head fell back and a guttural moan nearly choked the breath right out of her. He kissed her neck, her chin, all around her ear, and finally back to her mouth as she collapsed back, body finding the swing of things. Lifting and twisting, thrusting and meeting, impaling herself on him with pent up desire and need that's been sitting in wait for far too long. And he felt good - better than anybody before him. His hands were everywhere, touching everything; her breasts, her thighs, her stomach, her heat, the back of her knees, the nape of her neck. She swore she could feel him in each of these places at the exact same time, which is impossible of course, but then she was sure that his touch never really faded.
She clutched him against her and for one blinding second, she was scared that nothing would ever top this. That one day down the road, she was going to have to move on and whoever she was with was going to feel nothing like him. That whoever he was, he wouldn't laugh like Dean or touch her like Dean or even comfort her quite like Dean. Which is saying something because Dean had his own way of comforting and it wasn't quite as reassuring as most others. But she liked the gruff way he handled things, without tears or yelling, just a quick pat on the back, some ice cream and an old movie. She admitted to herself that it was better than a Clark Kent hug and then she knew she was in way over her head.
She reminded herself that he loved her. That Dean Winchester was in love with her. And not in the way Clark Kent might've felt once upon a time or that Jimmy Olsen swore he felt during their crash and burn relationship. This was different; this was a guy who took love so seriously, he'd rather pretend he never felt in than have to suffer through the aftermath. This was a guy who would much rather waste himself on one night stands with women who don't deserve him than find someone who could complete him, because he was scared he'd lose them. Just like his dad and his brother. And for him to say it, for him to even feel it, meant more than she could probably imagine.
So when he was filling her wholly, when his hands were clutching her body to his and his mouth was whispering things she couldn't even make out against her neck and her shoulder as he kissed her skin, she knew that this moment really couldn't be beaten. But that in the future, because she knew there was going to be many, many more instances when they'd be making love or declaring things that neither really wanted said, or even going on pretending that they were just two people, passing by in each others lives, making their mark here or there... Nobody was ever going to love her quite like he does and she knew, deep down, she was never going to love anybody else like she did him.
Because he was exhausting; he was sarcastic and mouthy and far too handsome for his own good. He put his life on the line, daily, and he didn't have anything to keep him from dying except expertise and a devil-may-care attitude. He was screwed up and dark and the most important person in his life was his little brother. He valued family, loved kicking demon ass, and would rather spend a night on the couch, drinking beer and watching TV than he would going to some big gala. But he'd do it - for her. He'd do just about anything. Except maybe watch a chick flick or let her pick the music in his car - but she'd work her way to those things. They had some time to figure those things out.
Their bodies were slick, sliding together with purpose and ease, fitting so perfectly that even if he won't admit it, because he hates those chick-flick moments, she was sure they were made for each other. Her thighs clamped around him and she felt the buzz start in her toes and work its way up until all of her was shaking, all of her was exploding, all of her was broken up into fragments of light and those pieces only came back together when he was gone with her, when he was shouting her name in a muffled growl and filling her, hands gripping hers against the bed and mouth searing her neck. She whimpered his name and she was sure that the air was filled with nothing but them, so when she inhaled, that's all she had. The rest of the world was non-existent. It was just DeanandChloe - one being.
Dean fell boneless on top of her, their bodies still twitching against the aftershocks. Their fingers were immobile, hands pressed tight together up above their heads. She could feel his panting, his breath skittering over her chest. His hair was damp against her shoulder and her arm lethargically lifted up, fingers falling to slide through the dark strands, messing them up further. Her thighs fell apart from him, wide and open against the bed, still shaking on the inside. She stared at the off-white ceiling, her heart racing emphatically and her eyes a little watery. She licked her dry lips and found herself smiling with satisfaction. And he wanted to wait! She nearly snorted. She had a feeling he'd never propose that again.
"I'm thinkin'..." He was so out of breath sentences come out broken. "Gimme ten minutes..."
She smirked. Round two was already looking promising. "Easy tiger," she teased anyway. "You sure you want to move things so quickly?"
He snorted. "Way I see it... now, is we've been dating this whole time!"
Interesting logic. "The whole time?"
"Yeah. Apparently you were cheating on that fiancé of yours." He lifted his head to smirk at her. "Naughty Chloe."
She lifted a brow. "You gonna teach me a lesson, Winchester?"
He laughed lowly before kissing her. "Many, many lessons," he promised.
She shivered with anticipation. She really liked where this was going.
In Proper Order: [ Next.]
Cateogory: Smallville/Supernatural [Crossover]
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Romance/Humor
Pairing: Chloe/Dean
Summary: Five instances where Chloe Sullivan knew Dean Winchester was completely in love with her.
Previous: Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV,
5 Times Chloe Knew Dean Was In Love With Her
5/5
V
Her back hit the wall - hard - but she was too involved with the hot mouth currently slanting across hers to care about knocking the cheap pictures from their nails. Maybe later, she could blame it on adrenaline, but for right now she was just drowning in his touch. For too long she'd wanted this and now that she had it, her common sense was completely turned off. He just felt so good, tasted so delicious...
She didn't even wonder where Sam was; where he'd disappeared off to after the hunt that obviously turned out well. Celebrating a good hunt had all new meaning in that moment. Usually they hit a bar, she got a little tipsy while dancing to the oldies blaring from the juke box and Dean scammed a few locals for pool while Sam enjoyed a beer and let go of his "emo funk" as Dean called it to enjoy the night. But now Dean was running his hands down her sides, his thumbs flicking along the curves of her breasts and she whimpered against his mouth, her jaw going slack for a second and his tongue taking charge as it tangled with hers.
He gripped her hips tightly and she jerked forward instinctively, her pelvis pressing against his. The groan he gave was long and deep, making her stomach flip and tighten in anticipation. He pressed against her harder, his entire body seeming to swamp her petite form. She could feel the rock hard evidence of his approval snug against the juncture of her thighs and her legs tightened around his waist.
His mouth detached from hers and she inhaled deeply, her head falling back, banging against the wall painlessly. She ran her hand down the back of his hair, feeling it brush against her palm as she ran it back up before tightening her fingers in the short brown strands. His lips found her neck, suckled it hotly as his teeth and tongue marked her. Her eyes fluttered to half mass, sightlessly staring at the faded whitish-grey of the motel ceiling.
She wasn't sure what brought them here. One minute they were killing some beast-like demon and the next Dean had her hauled up in his arms, his mouth working magic on her lips. Given just how hazy her mind was, she almost thought whatever demon they'd been fighting was more of a djinn and simply granted one of more nc-17 rated dreams involving a certain stubborn and sarcastic Winchester. But she was a little too caught up to really care if it was real or not; because damn did it ever feel real and she couldn't muster anything in her to deny him.
His rough hands slid up her shirt, running over her hips and along her ribs, finger flicking out and making her squirm at the slightly ticklish sensation. She smiled, letting out a breathless chuckle as he did it again, but any laughter was completely forgotten when his hands slid beneath the lace of her bra to cup her breasts. A drawn out moan escaped her, her body arching up, pressing even closer to him. His thumbs flicked against her nipples, massaging them slowly, calloused pads only making the feeling all the more intense. She rocked her hips against him, chewing her lip almost painfully. She could barely remember to breathe, so caught up in the way he was making her body quiver and twitch against him.
Her neck missed the heat of his mouth as his head ducked, lips finding her ribs, kissing along the sensitive flesh, making her fingers tighten in his hair. Her hands fall lower, nails scraping down the back of his neck before she gripped his shoulders. She nearly tore his shirt as his lips clasped around her breast, suckling it into the heat of his mouth, his tongue and teeth teasing her into whimpering his name. He was mumbling something but she could barely make out her own incoherent thoughts and just enjoyed the flow of ecstasy as it streamed through her body.
And then his mouth parted from her chest and he panted harshly. "We should stop," he said, swallowing tightly and licking his lips.
That got her full attention. "What? Why? No!" She said, shaking her head.
He lifted a shoulder, shaking his head slightly and then he was kissing her other breast, small little brushes of his lips all around her nipple, his breath skittering over her skin. His hands slid down her back, following the curve of her spine until they found her hips and then he was undoing her jeans and running his fingers along the top of her panties, skimming just beneath the band to caress her skin.
He stopped again, pressing his forehead against the valley of her breasts. He groaned in frustration. "No. We really need to stop," he said, shaking his head back and forth, his hair brushing against her with the movement.
She turned her head up and glared at the ceiling. It wasn't a djinn, it was trickster! It had to be, because this was cruel and unusual behavior for Dean!
With an inward-groan, she couldn't even imagine what would cause him - Dean freakin' Winchester - to stop in the middle of a heated make out session. So instead of trying anything logical, like asking him what the deal was, she rocked her hips, slow but purposeful, rubbing the hardness that despite his protests was still very happy about what had happened. He moaned, the vibration warming her chest and then his lips were moving again, his tongue escaping to trail over her breast, feasting on her flesh, teeth nipping, lips smoothing. And he rocked back, pressing the large bulge up against her, making her thighs clench and her stomach squirm. She wanted her jeans off, she wanted her panties torn and thrown away entirely, she wanted him inside of her - yesterday!
His hands ran down her putt, cupped the cheeks, squeezing them in his large palms, pulling her so close, she felt he practically was inside of her already. And then his hands slid lower, fingers coming up from beneath her thighs, running along the seam of her jeans, teasing her through the denim where she could already feel her lacy panties becoming damp.
"Ohhhh..." She moaned, panting for air as it all seemed to escape her as she bit her lower lip and let her eyes fall closed.
He swirled his tongue around her nipple and then he was blowing on it, cool air skittering over her breast, making it flash with attention. She could feel her breast tighten, a tingling sensation rushing down her spine. And then the heat of his mouth was back, suckling her breast with vigor. His fingers flicked the zipper of her jeans down and somehow he fit his hand through the space to cup her warmly. She whimpered, eyes rolling to the back of her head as she felt the heat of his palm cover her slit entirely, pressing her already soaked panties up against her, the lace grazing her enticingly. Her legs twitched at his side, her hips rotating - wanting more. Her heels dug into his back, drawing him closer.
She ran her hands down his neck, nails grazing the tanned expanse before they splayed out over his shoulders, squeezing them as they tensed. She jerked as she felt his calloused finger running along the side of her panties, up and down the crevice where her thigh met her heat, teasing her. She dugs her fingers into him, flexing them briefly before pressing her nails desperately into his shoulder blades. She wanted to touch more of him, to feel his bare skin against hers. She bunched his shirt up beneath her fingers, tore it upward quickly before pulling it over his head until it was hanging at his forearms, between them. One arm separated to let it loose but he refused to pull his hand out from deep in her pants and so it hung there, over her denim clad thigh. She could care less though, now she had all of that hard, tanned skin of his to touch as she pleased and she did. The necklace he never took off hung between his pecs and she found her hand tracing it, around his neck and down his chest, before her fingers were branching out, teasing his skin with small circles that grew bigger and bigger, the end of her finger exploring his torso entirely. She watched as his chest flexed, tightened, his breathing hitched, drawing her eyes down to his protective tattoo. She leaned forward, pressed a kiss against it before falling lower, flicking her tongue over his nipple, her teeth briefly tightening around it before she arched her back as his fingers finally slid beneath her panties and touched her full on.
She could barely breathe. How long had they been playing this game? She wondered. It seemed like her entire life, she'd been waiting for this moment. But that was ridiculous, wasn't it? She couldn't have spent her life waiting for him - for Dean Winchester, ladies man and demon hunter. It was impossible! She fell for good-to-the-bone Clark Kent - the humble farmboy from Smallville, Kansas. He was nothing like Dean - Dean who was gruff and sarcastic, confident and arrogant, reeking of sexiness where Clark was inexperienced and sweet, nice and honorable, a one-woman-only kinda guy. He'd waited for Lana Lang for years, where Dean could only put up with women for one night only!
And he loved her... She knew that. It wasn't hard to figure out. Those rare occurrences where he let himself just be with her, even if he used all of his fake indifference to pretend like it was never anything big, she knew what he really meant by it all. The tenderness, the over-protective routine, remembering milestones in her life when he could barely remember his own, taking her out on a date and making sure she looked good in front of a guy he'd labeled unworthy in the first place, letting her drive the Impala! It was all so obvious! Sure she'd doubted it. A guy like him going for a girl like her... But he did and she wasn't sure when it started, but she knew that even if he never said it, he felt it.
He was stroking her firmly, his calloused fingers running up and down her folds, purposely avoiding entering her no matter how many times she jerked her hips in need. His mouth was all over her breasts, painting them with his lips, his tongue, his teeth, marking her. Her hands were running all around his torso, gripping him in tandem with the flick of his forefinger along her clit, reaching for his jeans, popping the button, lowering the zipper, sneaking her hand inside to cup him. The deep groan he gave reverberated through her chest, made her stomach squirm, her heat quiver. He was hard and ready and he felt so good even through the barrier of his boxer-briefs.
God, why did they wait this long? She wondered.
"Wait, wait, wait," he muttered, his mouth detaching from her and his head shaking again. His fingers stopped and his hips slid away from her hand slightly. "No, we gotta stop... We gotta..." He panted, swallowing tightly, making a mix between a growl and a curse. His hand slid out of her jeans and she whimpered at the movement, both in pleasure and irritation. He let her down slowly, carefully and then backed up, his expression pained. His shirt fell from his wrist to the floor and he backed up further, brow furrowed and mouth set in a grimace.
Some part of her couldn't help but think he looked utterly sexy in that moment. His hair in disarray, his jeans hanging loosely from his hips, undone, his boots still on and his chest littered with marks her mouth left behind, even his shoulders were scored from her fingernails.
He ran a hand down his face in frustration. "Ugh," he groaned. "My stupid upstairs brain isn't working!"
She couldn't help it; she snorted. "Good thing I don't want your upstairs brain right now."
"Hey!" He lifted a hand as if to chastise her. "Don't say stuff ike that - it's not helping!"
With a slight smirk, she walked closer, pulling her shirt and bra the rest of the way off and tossing them away, now she was just as bare as he was.
His eyes fell from hers, stared wantingly at her body. He licked his lips before blinking rapidly and shaking his head. "Nonononono! You stay over there!" He pointed toward the wall. "At least until the fog clears, all right? Good."
She rolled her eyes but stopped approaching him. "Care to tell me what's got you suddenly pushing the off button?"
"We can't do this," he exclaimed, his eyes widening with emphasis.
"You weren't complaining five minutes ago," she reminded.
"There's nothing to complain about," he replied, frowning. "But we just... can't."
She lifted a brow, gaze falling to the bulge still sitting obviously beneath his jeans.
"Hey! That's not the problem!" He crossed his arms over his chest, looking peeved that she'd even suggest he had troubles in that area.
She rolled her eyes. "I have first hand knowledge that it's not," she reminded easily. "But I'm still completely confused about why it isn't happening."
He cleared his throat, glancing away. "Always so goddamn curious," he muttered under his breath. "Just trust me, we shouldn't."
She put her hands on her hips, although she was pretty sure she didn't look quite as imposing given that she was topless. "Not good enough." She sighed. "You have thirty seconds to explain or this is the one and only time this ever gets close to happening. There's no second chances here." She wondered if he knew she was bluffing. She had a good poker face though and instead turned her gaze toward the cheap clock on the wall.
He made a huffing noise, his teeth clenching and his eyes moving from the clock back to her.
She almost felt bad, because he looked rather pained with the ultimatum.
"Fifteen seconds," she told him, bending forward to grab up her shirt. Dear god, she thought, answer the question and take your pants off!
He was muttering under his breath, licking his lips, shuffling his feet, and she knew that it had to be hard for him, because he just didn't do sappy confessions.
"Five seconds," she said with a sigh.
"Okay, okay, okay." He looked around the room, anywhere but at her, his hands falling to his hips. "Ilikeyou," he rushed out.
"What?" Her brow crinkled.
"I like you," he nearly shouted, glaring at her.
She managed to keep her laugh back. "I think I proved just how much I liked you when we were up against the wall," she half-teased.
"No, I mean, I don't just... like you like you." He shrugged with a half-chuckle. "I mean I do like you..." He smirked, eyes raking over her half-naked figure. "But I also like you."
She rolled her eyes. She was going to get him a thesaurus for his birthday, she decided. "A little clearer?"
He let out a heavy sigh, lowered his head with irritation and frowned. "Women are so friggin' difficult," he mumbled. When he looked back up at her, he was almost frowning. "I like you enough to want try this a little... differently."
Her brows rose and her mouth fell open. "You... You want to wait?"
"I dunno... How long is the wait?" He rubbed the back of his neck. "It's like three dates or something like that, right?"
She bit her lip so she wouldn't laugh. He really did look out of his element here. "More of just a... when the time is right thing... Generally, that's for people who are dating and don't really, uh, know each other..." Why did she feel like she was giving the birds and the bees explanation? "And since we already know each other, I'm not really... sure about how long..." She lifted a shoulder, smiling slightly as it brought his eyes right back down to her bare chest.
"Right so... It could be awhile or... not so long..." He scratched the back of his head, trying to force his eyes upward.
"Dean," she said, rather amused. "I know what you're trying to do and it's sweet, really. The whole wanting to try a real relationship first before jumping into bed, it's..." Another way for him to show just how much he really cared, but she wasn't going to say that because then he'd get even more awkward. "But honestly, we know each other. Really, really well and... Do you really want to wait?"
"No," he admitted. "But... Damn it!" He cleared his throat. "I don't want it to just... happen and then..." He closed his eyes, rubbing at his forehead for a moment. "I kinda love you."
Okay, so she wasn't actually expecting him to say it just yet. Her eyes widened as she stared at him in shock.
He opened his eyes slowly, staring at her both worried and expectantly.
"I, uh, I, um..." She swallowed tightly.
"Yeah." He laughed uncomfortably. "Look uh, I think I'm gonna go... to the bar... or something." He reached down and grabbed his shirt before clearing his throat and moving to walk past her.
Sense kicked in just as he was about to pass and her arm reached out, hand gripping his bicep and stopping him in his place. She wasn't stupid, she knew he was strong enough to shrug her off and keep going, but he stilled at her touch. He wouldn't look at her, eyes set darkly on the door, probably waiting for some pitiful pick me up.
"I'm sorry, I just... You caught me by surprise." She licked her lips, tugging on his arm to get him to turn toward her. He did so, purposely looking put out by the movement. He was still looking over her head though and she knew that declarations like the one he just made didn't come so easy to him so her reaction must've really hurt. He had his arms crossed over his chest so she rested her hands on his forearms, her fingers stroking back and forth. "I know how you feel; I have for a long time, I just..."
"Hey, you don't have to make excuses, right? Nobody said you had to feel the same."
She sighed. "I do."
His brow furrowed and his eyes fell down to her. "You do what?"
She smiled slightly. "I do feel the same."
"You...?" He shook his head back and forth questioningly.
She grinned them, chuckling under her breath. "I love you."
"Oh... Uh... I..." He nodded, apparently at a loss for words.
"Just kiss me," she told him, hand reaching up to wrap around his neck before drawing him down until their lips meet together without the stress of secret love or fear that it was just a one-night thing between friends. He kissed her more gently now, his hands sliding around her waist, fingers stroking along the line of her spine. He left her breathless, her body thrumming, her heart overpowering sound. His mouth parted from hers and travelled down her neck, his teeth grazing her flesh and making her head fall back, her body arch until most of her is pressed flat against him. He felt warm against the bareness of her flesh, his chest rubbing against hers, arousing her nipples once more.
His hands fell lower, hooked around her jeans and pushed them down, fingers skittering over the exposed skin of her butt. She shuffled until her pants were her ankles and then kicked them away. While he's occupied with her shoulders, her hands explore his back, the contours and muscles that flex with each touch until they've fallen low enough to push his jeans down. And then he's scooping her up into his arms, hands on the back of her thighs, so close to her damp center she nearly came on spot. His mouth was around her breast again, this time with no possibility of drawing away and calling it quits. He stumbled back toward the bed, hooked an arm around her waist to keep her steady and then laid her back across the blanket. He covered her, his body looking so large now, swamping her own. She inhaled his scent as his head ducked once more, mouth running down the center of her torso from collar to abdomen.
But she didn't want him to have all the fun; she's always been a take charge type and this was no different. So when he came back up to kiss her, she easily turned them over until she was on top. And she knew he could flip them back over without exerting himself; he was stronger and more agile than she was, even after years of being Watchtower and the sidekick to Superman himself. But he didn't, instead he smirked up at her, his eyes darker than usual. She took his hands, pinned them above his head and ducked low so her mouth was close enough to kiss him but she didn't. Her hair brushed against his cheeks and she bit his chin briefly before she buried her face in his neck, attached her mouth to his Adam's apple and sucked and nipped all around it. She continued down his chest, the farther she went her hands slid away from his and down his arms, along his biceps, across his shoulders until they were sitting on his chest, holding him down and then her tongue was running along the top of his boxer-briefs teasingly. She used her teeth to drag them down and she can tell he was already anticipating her as his stomach flexed and his breathing deepened.
He lifted his hips and a guttural moan escaped him as her tongue ran over his length, slow and firm. Her nails dug into his chest as she kissed up and down and all around, purposely drawing it all out. His hand reached for her, buried in her hair and she finally wrapped him with her lips, enveloping him as deep as he'd go. She didn't move at first, just let him sit there, surrounded by the heat of her cheeks and her tongue.
"Oh god," he moaned.
And then she was moving, up and down and swirling every which way, hollowing out her cheeks and letting her tongue zig-zag, making patterns and writing unseen words. Her hands slid down his chest and over his tense stomach until they were at his hips, running up and down the V that made up the sensitive flesh leading to his hard length. She could feel him twitching, could feel everything tightening and reacting. She pulled away before it got to be too much, so it didn't end before they've even started.
He gasped, his hand tightening in her hair, dragging her upward until their mouths slanted together again, fitting together just right. And then he was turning her over until the warmth of his body covered every inch of hers. His hands ran up and down her sides before sliding between her thighs and parting them, drawing them up around his hips. His knuckles grazed her inner-thighs, teasing her until he was drawing her wet panties aside and thrusting his fingers into her until she was crying out against his mouth; her gasps muffled by their tongues twining. Three fingers fill her, in and out until she's shaking and begging him with the noises from the back of her throat.
Her arms wrapped around him, hands digging into his back until he slid into her deeply, so full and thick and all-encompassing. Her body arched, neck straining as her head fell back and a guttural moan nearly choked the breath right out of her. He kissed her neck, her chin, all around her ear, and finally back to her mouth as she collapsed back, body finding the swing of things. Lifting and twisting, thrusting and meeting, impaling herself on him with pent up desire and need that's been sitting in wait for far too long. And he felt good - better than anybody before him. His hands were everywhere, touching everything; her breasts, her thighs, her stomach, her heat, the back of her knees, the nape of her neck. She swore she could feel him in each of these places at the exact same time, which is impossible of course, but then she was sure that his touch never really faded.
She clutched him against her and for one blinding second, she was scared that nothing would ever top this. That one day down the road, she was going to have to move on and whoever she was with was going to feel nothing like him. That whoever he was, he wouldn't laugh like Dean or touch her like Dean or even comfort her quite like Dean. Which is saying something because Dean had his own way of comforting and it wasn't quite as reassuring as most others. But she liked the gruff way he handled things, without tears or yelling, just a quick pat on the back, some ice cream and an old movie. She admitted to herself that it was better than a Clark Kent hug and then she knew she was in way over her head.
She reminded herself that he loved her. That Dean Winchester was in love with her. And not in the way Clark Kent might've felt once upon a time or that Jimmy Olsen swore he felt during their crash and burn relationship. This was different; this was a guy who took love so seriously, he'd rather pretend he never felt in than have to suffer through the aftermath. This was a guy who would much rather waste himself on one night stands with women who don't deserve him than find someone who could complete him, because he was scared he'd lose them. Just like his dad and his brother. And for him to say it, for him to even feel it, meant more than she could probably imagine.
So when he was filling her wholly, when his hands were clutching her body to his and his mouth was whispering things she couldn't even make out against her neck and her shoulder as he kissed her skin, she knew that this moment really couldn't be beaten. But that in the future, because she knew there was going to be many, many more instances when they'd be making love or declaring things that neither really wanted said, or even going on pretending that they were just two people, passing by in each others lives, making their mark here or there... Nobody was ever going to love her quite like he does and she knew, deep down, she was never going to love anybody else like she did him.
Because he was exhausting; he was sarcastic and mouthy and far too handsome for his own good. He put his life on the line, daily, and he didn't have anything to keep him from dying except expertise and a devil-may-care attitude. He was screwed up and dark and the most important person in his life was his little brother. He valued family, loved kicking demon ass, and would rather spend a night on the couch, drinking beer and watching TV than he would going to some big gala. But he'd do it - for her. He'd do just about anything. Except maybe watch a chick flick or let her pick the music in his car - but she'd work her way to those things. They had some time to figure those things out.
Their bodies were slick, sliding together with purpose and ease, fitting so perfectly that even if he won't admit it, because he hates those chick-flick moments, she was sure they were made for each other. Her thighs clamped around him and she felt the buzz start in her toes and work its way up until all of her was shaking, all of her was exploding, all of her was broken up into fragments of light and those pieces only came back together when he was gone with her, when he was shouting her name in a muffled growl and filling her, hands gripping hers against the bed and mouth searing her neck. She whimpered his name and she was sure that the air was filled with nothing but them, so when she inhaled, that's all she had. The rest of the world was non-existent. It was just DeanandChloe - one being.
Dean fell boneless on top of her, their bodies still twitching against the aftershocks. Their fingers were immobile, hands pressed tight together up above their heads. She could feel his panting, his breath skittering over her chest. His hair was damp against her shoulder and her arm lethargically lifted up, fingers falling to slide through the dark strands, messing them up further. Her thighs fell apart from him, wide and open against the bed, still shaking on the inside. She stared at the off-white ceiling, her heart racing emphatically and her eyes a little watery. She licked her dry lips and found herself smiling with satisfaction. And he wanted to wait! She nearly snorted. She had a feeling he'd never propose that again.
"I'm thinkin'..." He was so out of breath sentences come out broken. "Gimme ten minutes..."
She smirked. Round two was already looking promising. "Easy tiger," she teased anyway. "You sure you want to move things so quickly?"
He snorted. "Way I see it... now, is we've been dating this whole time!"
Interesting logic. "The whole time?"
"Yeah. Apparently you were cheating on that fiancé of yours." He lifted his head to smirk at her. "Naughty Chloe."
She lifted a brow. "You gonna teach me a lesson, Winchester?"
He laughed lowly before kissing her. "Many, many lessons," he promised.
She shivered with anticipation. She really liked where this was going.
In Proper Order: [ Next.]