You fire the revolver, your jaw set, your arms locked, in textbook position. The grouping is almost perfect, every bullet had penetrated within the circle marking the heart. And now you shift your focus to the head, squeezing off another six shots, precisely aiming them where you are willing them to go.
You're still furious. The shooting exercise isn't helping, at least not yet. So you flip the switch, retrieving the target and putting another on the hook, then sending it back in place. Ear protection on, new clip loaded, you aim again.
You feel his presence behind you, but you ignore him, as much as you are ever able to ignore him. Fine. Let him see just how pissed you really are. So you aim low, decimating the entire groin area of the target, then pull off the ear protection as Dean steps up beside you.
"Holy shit. I guess that's me up there, huh?" he says softly. You don't smile or laugh, you don't acknowledge him in any way. You just reload and move to put the ear protectors on again, but his hand stays you. "Come on, Y/N. Talk to me."
"I don't want to talk to you. I just want to shoot things until I feel better, okay?" you retort, your voice tight with anger. You put the muffs on, ignoring him, and take aim. But his proximity just winds you up tighter, and you shoot wild and outside the circle every shot. You rip the muffs off, throwing them down, letting your temper get the best of you. "Why can't you just leave me alone? I'm so fucking pissed at you, Dean! Just go away!" You turn away from him, but he doesn't move.
"Just talk to me, Y/N."
"Damn it, Dean, what is there to talk about? You don't trust me. You don't think I can do the job. Why do you even take me along? You might as well lock me in my room, or in the trunk of the Impala, as much help as I am now! I've trained until I'm blue in the face, I can outrun you, I can swing a machete as well as anyone, and I can shoot. What the hell do I have to do to prove myself to you, huh? If you think I'm that incompetent, maybe I should just leave."
You feel him move behind you, and you turn around to see that he's leaning against the counter, arms folded, looking at the floor. His jaw works a little, and then he speaks quietly. "I don't think you're incompetent."
"Oh, really? You could have fooled me! I had that thing in my sights, and you tackle me? Yell at me and make me go to the car?"
Now he's gnawing on his lip, still not looking at you. "That's not why…"
"Then why, Dean? Please enlighten me! Because it feels like you don't trust me to do the job!"
"I didn't want you getting hurt."
You stare at him in disbelief. "Sometimes hunters get hurt, Dean. It's no different than the possibility of you or Sam getting hurt!"
"Yes, it is!" He shouts, looking at you briefly, then staring towards the concrete floor again. "It's different."
"Oh, so because I'm a woman…"
"That's not it."
"Fucking hell! Then what is it? I swear, Dean, this has to stop, or I'm leaving! I can't live like this. I'm not your goddamn mascot! You're such a controlling asshole!" You move forward, intending to storm out of the room. But in a flash you find yourself landing against the wall, almost hard enough to knock the breath from your lungs, Dean's hands gripping your arms so hard it hurts. And then his lips crash down on yours, harsh, angry, and after the initial shock, you respond, your lips parting as he pins you there with his body.
Suddenly it all stops, and you're disoriented for a moment, left panting against the wall, watching him step back, his hands held out to his sides, his chest heaving. "I'm sorry," he says, barely audible, his face working to control his emotion as he turns away and moves for the door.
"Fuck you," you whisper, angry that he's leaving, angry that you responded, angry at yourself for the intense want that he's awakened in you. He hears you, and he stops for just a moment, then continues on. "Yeah, walk away. Remember, you're the one who came in here in the first place." Angry tears are stinging your eyes as you move to the the counter and begin putting away the equipment. Then your breath catches in your chest as you feel him right behind you, his hands braced on either side of you on the counter, boxing you in as he bends to whisper in your ear.
"Do you know why I was leaving?" You shiver at the tone of his voice, the air vibrating with his intensity. "I was leaving to protect you, because I hit my limit today when that shifter charged you - when I saw something trying to hurt you, to kill you. I didn't think about the fact that you could take care of yourself. All I could think of is 'Don't fucking touch her, or I'll kill you.' All I could think about was keeping you safe, getting you back here, and fucking owning you." He almost growled the last words, and a soft little whimper escapes you as you begin to tremble. "All I can think of now is throwing you over my shoulder and taking you to my room, tearing those clothes off you, touching you, tasting every inch of you." His breath is hot against your neck, the air electric, the smell of gunpowder and Dean overwhelming you as his lips ghost over the shell of your ear, his nose brushing against your hair. "You make me feel like a fucking animal, Y/N. So don't push it unless you're up for it."
"Is that a threat?" You try to sound indifferent, but your voice sounds a little shaky, and you feel Dean's body lean into you just a little, his arousal obvious as he speaks again, his voice low and rumbling.
"I don't make threats, sweetheart. I keep promises."
You turn slowly, feeling him inhale sharply as you brush against him, and you look up into his eyes defiantly. "Prove it."
His upper lip twitches, just the barest hint of a snarl, and he reaches out to pull the band from your hair, letting it fall around your shoulders. Then he grabs a handful at the back of your neck, pulling to tilt your head back, and he's kissing you, demanding, aggressive, his other hand pulling you hard against him as he grinds into you, moaning.
He pulls back, his jaw clenched, and the look on his face sends a chill up your spine as he narrows his eyes. "Clothes off. Or I can take them off for you. But if you want to keep them, do it yourself."
Your shaking fingers begin undoing the buttons of your shirt, and you take it off, then reach behind you to unclasp your bra, sliding the straps down your arms and dropping it to the floor. Dean's eyes narrow a little more, and his tongue plays across his lips as he watches you toe off your shoes, then undo your jeans. You push them down, stepping out of them and self-consciously hugging your arms to your waist. His chest is heaving as he reaches down between your legs, and your eyes close as he runs his fingers through your folds, then lowers himself to one knee in front of you.
He runs his hand up the back of your calf until he reaches your knee, and he lifts your leg, kneeling down farther and placing it over his shoulder. You brace your hands at the edge of the counter, hanging on for dear life as he licks over you, his arm helping support your trembling body. And then he just buries his face between your thighs, moving his head back and forth and letting out a growl as he fucks his tongue into you. He sucks hard on your clit, and you shout his name as your orgasm slams through you. He catches you as your legs completely give out and you collapse, and before you've had time to recover, he's scooped you up in his arms and is carrying you down the hall.
Dean opens the door to his room, and he enters, carrying you through and kicking it shut behind him without missing a step. He lays you down on the bed, staring down at you as he strips quickly, savage purpose in his eyes. He crawls up between your legs, the head of his cock brushing over you for only an instant before he plunges in to the limit, and you arch up off the bed, fighting for air, your mouth open as you drop back. You can feel yourself slowly, every so slowly stretching and adjusting to his size, and Dean closes his eyes, guilt washing over his features as he lowers himself down, resting his forehead on the pillow beside you.
"I'm sorry, Y/N. I'm sorry," he whispers, then lifts his head again to look down into your eyes. He props himself on one elbow, his other hand caressing your face before he touches his lips to yours softly. "I'm sorry."
You lean into his hand a little, managing a wan smile. "I'm okay, Dean. Just a little… surprised. I promise, I'm okay." He kisses you gently again, and he grunts a little as you squeeze around his length. "See? I'm fine." Your smile grows as he looks down at you again, and you watch his face as you do it again, loving how he hisses softly as his eyes close for a moment.
He shifts his hips a little, a hint of a grin curving his lips as you moan, obviously not from pain, moving against him. "I can tell," he whispers, then kisses you again, letting the intensity build again, and soon you are moving together like a well-oiled machine. He's smooth, pistoning his hips so that he pulls almost completely out and and then a slight rotation as he drives in causing him to brush over the place inside you that sends a thrill through every nerve ending. You feel the tension building, climbing until you feel as if you'll explode if it's not relieved. And he senses it, bends to take your nipple into his mouth, sucking and nipping at it while he moves one hand between you, his thumb putting pressure on your clit.
You scream hoarsely as you come, your head thrashing on your pillow, your fingers pulling his hair as he continues to suck on your nipple, and your legs grip his waist as he gives himself over to his own need. He grips your hip hard as he pounds into you, your center still spasming around him as he throbs inside you until he's spent, and he lets himself collapse off to the side a little so he doesn't crush you. You're both trembling, skin slick with sweat, hearts pounding.
Finally he raises himself up, pulling from you gently as you both moan softly. He lays on his back for only a moment before reaching for you, pulling you close and surrounding you with his arms. You feel his lips on your forehead, and the top of your head, and you smile weakly. "So… now what?" you ask quietly.
He hugs you tight for a moment, then backs away enough to look into your eyes. "I don't know. But I know when I saw that shifter go after you, all I could think of was that I couldn't lose you. I just couldn't risk it, and I know I was an asshole. I just didn't realize, not until then. I love you."
Your eyes fill with tears as you reach to touch his face. "I love you, Dean. I've loved you ever since you saved my ass from that vamp in Missouri. I just didn't think anything could ever come of it."
He pulls you close again, his arms wrapped around you like home. "We'll figure it out, baby. We'll figure it out." Then he chuckles softly. "Just as long as you don't aim that gun at me. I'm kinda fond of my family jewels."
You laugh softly with him. "No worries. I'm kind of attached to them myself."