"Hey... are you okay?"
You jump a little at the proximity of his voice, then quickly wish yourself anywhere but here. Of course, it doesn't work. You try to inconspicuously wipe the tears from your face, but you know that he knows you were crying.
"I'm okay," you say softly, then turn to look over your shoulder, dragging your gaze from the darkness outside the window that you were staring out of blindly before he approached you. The air freezes in your lungs as you look up into a pair of moss-green eyes, clouded with genuine concern. "I - I'm fine. I'm sure you've got better things to do than..."
He shrugs his broad shoulders as a crooked smile curves his lips, and he interrupts. "Sad to say, I've got absolutely nothing going on. So why don't you come have a drink? What's your name?"
You say your name softly, and fight unsuccessfully to control your nervous stammer. "I'm - I really am okay, I promise. I just got some bad news, and I..."
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to butt in, but..." His voice trails off a little, and he starts again. "Seriously, why don't you come sit with me, have a drink. Just until you're - you know - feeling a little better. My table's at the back, you don't have to worry about anyone knowing you were crying or anything..."
You feel the tears filling your eyes again, and his face softens as he puts an arm around you, pulling you into a hug. A soft sob escapes your lips, and you relax against his warm shoulder, the kindness and human contact destroying what was left of your self-control. He holds you gently, silently, one large hand stroking up and down your back, warm and soothing. After a minute or two, you manage to pull yourself together and straighten, pulling back slowly from his arms. "Thanks. I - I'm sorry, you don't even know me, and I'm crying all over you..."
"It's okay." He reaches to brush a strand of hair from your eyes. "Really. Why don't you go wash your face or whatever - I'll wait for you. Okay?" You look at him gratefully, then nod and turn towards the restroom. "I'll be right here," he says, and you nod again as you pull open the door and walk in.
"Oh, shut up," you mutter to your reflection as you look into the mirror. What the hell are you thinking, this guy is a complete stranger, and you're letting him comfort you like you've known him all your life. You berate yourself the entire time you are washing your face in cold water, soothing your aching eyes and cleaning the tear tracks from your skin. Then you take a deep breath and walk out the door, almost expecting to find him gone. But he's still standing there, and he smiles at you as you walk closer.
"I'm this way," he says, putting a hand on your back to direct you. You sit at the table where a beer and a glass of whiskey sit waiting for him. "You want a beer? Or are you a whiskey girl?"
You smile up at him a little shyly. "Tonight... I think I might be both."
"Both it is," he says with a grin, heading for the bar.
He's back shortly with the drinks, setting them down in front of you as you murmur your thanks. You sip at the whiskey, feeling its warmth as it flows down your throat and into your belly. Dean leans back in his chair, taking a drink from his beer and looking at you with friendly interest. "So - do you live here, or are you just passing through?"
"I have a room at the little motel down the street. Just on my way - home." You say the word reluctantly, and he nods, not asking any questions.
"Same place I'm staying. Not much else to choose from around here."
"So you don't live here either," you say, and he smiles.
"No. I'm just passing through, too. Had a job north of here, just heading to pick up my brother in Sioux Falls now."
"So you live in Sioux Falls?"
"Well - closest thing we have to home, I guess." You talk about unimportant things, surface only, and he never asks you what was causing your little breakdown earlier. He is so good at making you feel at ease. You surprise yourself by laughing at an off-hand joke he makes, and he grins at your response as if it were a personal victory. "You've got a great smile. I'm glad I got to see it." He reaches a hand to cover yours, and it seems as though a jolt of electricity runs up your arm as he touches you. You very slowly pull your hand back, ducking your head a little as you speak softly.
"I should go."
Dean looks at you for a moment before he answers. "I'll walk you out. I should head back, too." You both stand, and he ushers you towards the door with a barely there touch on your back. You take a deep breath of the cool night air as you step outside, the warmth of Dean's hand now gone. "Where's your ride?"
"Oh, I walked. I needed to... walk."
He walks to the driver's side of a beautiful vintage Chevy Impala, black glossy finish gleaming in the glow of the street light. "I can give you a lift."
You look up at him, hesitant. "I - I shouldn't. I don't..."
His head is tilted to the side, a little pout on his lips. "Don't tell me you still don't trust me. After I let you cry on my shoulder?"
"I'm sorry, I just..."
"Look. I'm driving to the motel anyway. I promise you're safe with me. Relatively." You can't suppress a smile as he winks at you, then grins, and your resolve melts.
"Okay. Thanks." You climb into the car, impressed with the obvious care given to keeping it clean. "Wow. She's beautiful."
"She's my Baby." Dean pats the dash affectionately. "Used to belong to my dad." You smile as he starts the engine, and his eyes widen with approval. "You like?"
You nod, and he puts the car in gear, backing out and heading down the street. It's only a few blocks, and he pulls into the parking lot in only a couple of minutes, leaving you wishing that the trip had lasted a little longer.
"Dean, thank you," you say as you get out, turning to smile at him. "For everything. Really." By this time, he's standing in front of you, smiling down at you, and your heart rate jumps a little.
"My pleasure, sweetheart," he says softly, then bends to brush his lips whisper-soft over yours. "I hope everything works out." You hope the poor lighting hides the blush on your cheeks as you smile. You head for your room and he heads for his, and you realize that you're next door to each other. Dean chuckles softly. "I hope you don't snore."
"I'll try not to," you answer, laughing. "Thanks again, Dean."
You go into your room and close the door, and you hear him do the same. You lean back against the wood, feeling as if you just stepped off a carousel, and you mentally shake yourself. That was close. Really close. Because if he had kissed you once more... well, there would have been a completely different end to this night.
The walls are thin, and you hear Dean's TV come on, and then a few minutes later, his shower. You grab some shorts and an old shirt and head to your bathroom, hoping the shower isn't completely pressure-free like the last one. It's not bad, and you let yourself stand under the hot spray as long as you can before it begins to turn tepid, then climb out and dry off, lotion up and get dressed for the night. You grab one of the beers you had stashed in the mini fridge, sitting on the bed and flipping through channels on the television. Nothing on, no surprise. Basic cable only in these cheap places, which means either news or talk shows. Well, there's an old western, better than nothing. You lean back against the wall, taking a swallow from your beer, when a tickling sensation causes you to look down, and a scream shatters the quiet of your room as you leap off the bed, the beer forgotten and spilling out onto the floor.
A loud crash makes you jump, and you look up to see Dean standing shirtless and barefoot in the entrance to your room, the door hanging ruined from one hinge. "Are you all right?" he asks, his wide eyes taking in the whole room at once, and he stops there. "What happened?"
You point with a shaking finger at the huge centipede now sitting in the middle of the bed, and you back away as Dean approaches. "Shoe?" he asks, and you point to where your Nikes sit next to the door. He turns, grabs one of them, and brings it down with all his force on top of the creepy thing, twice for good measure. Then he grabs a notepad from the table and scoops it up, throwing it out through the now-useless door. "Did it bite you?"
You shake your head. "No. They just... they just creep me out. Spiders I can handle, but those things..." You shudder, then look at him. "Thanks again."
"You're shaking." He comes closer, and you shudder again.
"I'm terrified of them. And it was on me." You close your eyes for a second, and when you open them, he's right in front of you.
He runs his fingers down the side of your arm until he reaches your hand, taking yours in his warm grasp. "You can't stay here now. I'll go get you another room, explain what happened."
"No, it's not your fault. You were trying to help," you protest, acutely aware of his touch. Your eyes meet his, and you can't pull your gaze from him. It feels like neither of you is breathing, and he draws slowly closer to you, finally touching his lips to yours, gently caressing, and with a soft sigh, you surrender to your feelings, ignoring the voice trying to tell you to stop.
He raises his head, and your knees grow weak as the tip of his tongue darts out across his bottom lip. He puts a hand gently on your face, his fingers sliding back to tangle in your hair as he bends to whisper your name in your ear. "Come stay with me tonight."
He waits, his eyes glowing as he watches you, his gaze flicking between your eyes and your lips. You give in completely, putting a hand on his chest as you nod, then sliding it up over his warm skin and behind his neck as he kisses you again, this time with hunger. He helps you gather your stuff, then pulls the door back in place, good enough until tomorrow.
You stand in the middle of his room, hands nervously clasped together as he walks in and closes the door. You feel as if you can't take in enough air as he approaches you slowly, a gentle smile curving his tempting mouth. "We don't have to do anything you don't want to, sweetheart," he murmurs, reaching to brush his fingers along your cheek, his hands cradling your face as he leans in to kiss you softly. You're trembling, and he pulls you close as his tongue teases at your lips. You take a breath, surprised that you remember how, and the kiss deepens, his whiskey-beer-spearmint-Dean flavor overwhelming your senses as your tongue dances with his, and your arms slide around his waist.
He hums softly as he pulls you closer, one hand buried in your hair, the other on your lower back, pressing you against his body. You feel his arousal as he holds you tight, and suddenly you feel as if you're falling, not even afraid of the ground rushing up to meet you, embracing the illusion of flight that sends your heart racing and your blood to a low simmer. His hips push in closer, seeking more friction, and your body answers, a quiet moan vibrating in your throat.
As he raises his head, his long lashes shield you for just a moment from the intensity in his green eyes, now dark with need. He bends to quickly nip at your bottom lip, dropping small, ravenous kisses on your parted lips, across your cheek, nibbling at your ear. His tongue feels as if it's scorching you as it touches the sensitive skin of your neck, your throat, and his teeth bite softly at your shoulder as he pushes the neck of your shirt aside. Your head tilts to give him more access, your breath coming fast and shallow now, your knees growing weak. He holds you tighter still as you sag against him; he sucks softly on the tender spot right above your collar bone, his hand slipping down to grip your soft curves, pulling you hard against him.
His hands move to your waist, and he lifts his head again, turning you slowly until your back is to him. He takes the hem of your shirt and lifts it, slipping it over your head, baring your breasts, which he then covers with his hands, squeezing gently as he presses his erection against your lower back. "Beautiful," he whispers, running work-roughened fingers over a nipple, his other hand sliding down the smooth skin of your belly and gliding down into your shorts, his fingers seeking your wet warmth, and he lets out a rough sigh as he reaches his goal. Your head falls back against his shoulder as he strokes over you, then slowly penetrates you with two long fingers, almost lifting you off the floor.
You cry out softly, and he squeezes your breast again, moaning softly into your ear as he feels your arousal. "Let's take this to the bed, shall we?" he asks, and you nod, giving a little squeak as he removes his hand and turns you back around, crushing you to him as he kisses you roughly, grinding his hard length against you.
He pulls your shorts and panties down, letting you step out of them as he rakes his eyes over you, never looking away as he quickly steps out of his jeans and boxers, kicking them carelessly away. He approaches you, the look on his face making you feel almost dizzy, and he's breathing hard. He stops, reaching for your hands, swallowing hard before speaking softly. "Are you sure? Because if you're not..."
"I'm sure, Dean," you whisper, staring back at him unflinchingly, and the barely restrained passion takes him over again as he reaches for you, his hands on the back of your thighs as he lifts you into his arms, your legs clinging to his waist as he moans loudly, the sound muffled by your kiss. He moves forward, placing one knee on the bed and lowering you slowly, his lips never leaving yours, laying you back and lowering himself over you, your skin against his, the hard muscle of his thigh between your legs.
Your hips buck against him, and you gasp at the feeling as a low chuckle vibrates in his chest. He reaches down to rub his thumb hard over you, moving his knee even closer as you thrust against him, unable to stop yourself. He bends to lavish attention to your breasts, and as he sucks and tongues your nipple, you come completely undone beneath him, your back arching as he whispers against your skin. "So sweet..."
Every nerve ending is firing as you come down, shaking with the intensity of your orgasm, and his touch sends shudders through you as he runs his hands lightly down your sides, to the inside of your thighs, parting them as he covers you with his body. You feel him brush against you before he slowly pushes inside, until your bodies are flush against each other, and he kisses you feverishly as you both moan. He raises up to look into your eyes, the effort of his restraint on his face, and you nod before you let your eyes drift shut again at the feelings overwhelming you. He pulls back slowly, slides back in to fill you again, then lets himself go.
Your breathing is harsh and shallow as he begins to move, and your hips rise to meet his with each thrust, the tension almost unbearable as it builds in your body. He plunges into you harder, and faster, his hands gripping your thighs as you clutch at the sheets beneath you. His rhythm begins to stutter, the sounds he makes driving you to the edge, and when a hard, sharp thrust connects with just the right spot inside you, you cry out his name. You feel yourself shatter a few seconds before he does, and the sound of your name falling from his breathless lips makes it even more intense.
Your body embraces his as he throbs inside you, driving himself to his end, and leaving you shaking and helpless beneath him when he lowers himself gently down, his energy spent. After a moment, he rolls to your side, leaving you whimpering slightly at the loss, but he pulls you into his arms, pulling the sheet over you both as your sweat-slick bodies begin to cool and your hearts begin to slow. He leans in to kiss you softly, so gently that you feel the tears come, your emotions getting the best of you at the sweetness of his touch. He keeps kissing you, his thumbs brushing your tears from your cheeks, and then cradles you in his arms, one hand holding your head against his shoulder.
"Whatever it is," he whispers, kissing your forehead, "it'll be all right." He keeps holding you, whispering your name with calming words, holding you like he'll never let you go, even though you know that's not true. For now, you let yourself believe it. For now, it's enough.