Happy New Year! Hope you all had a lovely festive season wherever you are.
So after the updates from both Lex and Siobhan, I thought it was time to check in with Becca as well. And I thought I'd also set myself a challenge to write a more fluffy than smutty one-shot with her and Dean. So this is pure and utter fluff - nothing too serious, just a bit of fun as they escape to spend some time together. It was a bit of a challenge (not helped by a certain LetItReign doing her best to persuade me to write some proper smut!) but somehow, I did it. Although there are quite a number of hints and tales of their bedroom antics within this (it's Dean, I can't write anything without picturing him naked at least once!)
So enjoy. I'll also try to get back on track with weekly updates, but I make no promises - but please be rest assured that I am far from done with any of my couples. I love them too much to give any of them up at the moment!
WARNING: A few bits of language, hints of smut, but mostly fluff, fluff, fluff
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing except Becca and her mind.
x
I push open the sliding door slowly, wincing as it squeaks on its rails. Cool air hits my face and I breathe in the freshness as I step out onto the balcony and survey my surroundings. The leaves on the trees whisper in the morning breeze, parting to offer me a breathtaking view of the lake beyond, bathed in a soft yellow glow from the rising sun. I glance back inside at the stairs that lead up to the loft-space where Dean is still fast asleep – I'm half-tempted to wake him, to drag him downstairs, to out here where we can both watch the sun rise. But I remember the tired look in his eye when I picked him up from the airport, the way he only managed a half hour before he fell asleep in the car, snoring for the rest of the journey whilst I quietly sang along to the radio.
He only stirred awake when I pulled off the Interstate three hours later, a dazed expression on his face as he took in our surroundings. His voice was rough from sleep as he shook his head and shifted in his seat, his hand reaching out to squeeze my thigh. And when we pulled up outside the cabin, the first thing he did was lean across the centre console, his fingers pushing a strand of hair behind my ear as he kissed me. It was only late afternoon, plenty of time to explore, walk down to the lake and take in the sunset, but any vague notion of setting foot outside again disappeared the second the front door clicked shut and Dean's hand crept under my shirt.
I snicker to myself as I pull the sliding door shut behind me and settle onto the sun lounger, curling my feet underneath me. Despite the summer month, the morning air still has a faint chill to it and as the breeze picks up again, I'm grateful for the blanket I snagged from the couch on my way outside which I now wrap loosely around me. I snuggle down deeper, my nose brushing against the neck of Dean's shirt that I just so happened to swipe from the bedroom floor. My heart pounds as his scent surrounds me and I wonder if that feeling will ever go away. I hope it doesn't. Eighteen months is just around the corner and I still get a rush every time I see him, every time he touches me, innocently or otherwise, every time he says my name or smiles at me.
Or when I open our apartment door on Wednesday evenings and find him in the kitchen preparing dinner or lying on the couch, beer in hand with take-out already ordered and on its way. I love being able to walk over and wrap my arms around him, press my cheek to his back or lean over him and kiss him in greeting, grinning as his hand sneaks around the back of my head and holds me to him. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous about moving in with him. I haven't lived with anyone since college and despite the fact that we seem to be spending more time together when he was back in town than apart, we still had the option to have our own space if we needed it.
We'd planned to move into the new apartment when he was back in town. But then my schedule changed and the previously well-devised plans of moving his stuff on one day and mine on the next were shattered. Instead, it became a clunky process of Dean moving his own stuff in and half un-packing before he went back on the road. I arrived back on the Saturday morning and spent the entire weekend surrounded by boxes, completely unsure of where to put anything. It felt strange to go through boxes of his stuff without him there. I felt like I was invading his privacy, despite all the items that I unwrapped being completely familiar from his old apartment. I tentatively arranged our belongings, fretting whether things were in the right place or not, attempting to keep each living space neutral rather than over-load it one way or another.
Yet when I arrived home and found him in the apartment for the first time, I realised I was worrying over nothing. Although I always find it a struggle to concentrate or worry about anything else when Dean's arms are wrapped around me, his mouth on mine, his fingers deftly undoing buttons, zips and bra clasps. The way I had arranged books or put his clothes in the closet seemed irrelevant when he was bending me over the couch, my moans muffled by the cushions as he pressed a chaste kiss to my back before slamming into me hard, causing my legs to shake uncontrollably. And my anxiety had completely disappeared by the time he rolled me onto my side so he could kiss me as he sunk back inside me, slow and steady as he groped at my hip, my breasts, his fingers inevitably slipping between my legs whilst I cupped his sweaty face and held his gaze for as long as possible until my vision went blurry and his eyes squeezed shut and we both came with a shout and a gasp.
The one thing I dreaded was saying goodbye to him every week. Both Lex and Siobhan had warned me about how that was the hardest part for both of them. I thought I was prepared but I was so wrong. The apartment felt empty when I came home that first Friday night, but there were reminders everywhere of Dean. From his dirty laundry in the bathroom, to a pair of sneakers by the closet door. From a handful of mail in his name to his last read book on the couch. He was everywhere, yet I couldn't reach for him. I went to bed and felt cold, missing the extra body warmth that he would usually provide. I missed rolling over in the middle of the night and colliding with his solid frame. I missed waking up beside him, listening to him snore softly, watching him slowly wake and give me that sly, early morning smile he always gives me before he pulls me into his arms and presses his lips to whatever skin of mine that he can find.
And sure, I missed all of that when he wasn't in my apartment. But that felt different, like I knew I couldn't depend on that forever. Yet in a fully shared space? It felt like it should have been the norm and the reality was that it would never be like that. At first, it was frustrating – I was angry with myself for ever imagining that it would be that way, that it would be perfect. But after the first few weeks, it started to feel... Well, normal. It didn't make it any easier, but it felt routine, like this was our sense of normal, of perfection. And let's be honest, it's not like any part of our relationship has been exactly normal in the conventional sense.
Take the night we all found out about Lex and Roman's impending new arrival. One year into a relationship and two people who have never gotten further than a couple of months with anyone else are suddenly discussing the possibility of a future beyond just having dinner plans and how they'd like to fuck the other person senseless. Or more precisely, having a conversation about the former after just completing the latter in spectacular style. It still makes me giggle how Dean somehow managed to compare a blowjob to a conversation about having a family together. A giggle that slowly turns into disbelief about how he didn't even bat an eyelid at my confession that sometimes, perhaps, maybe, I thought about what we could have together further down the line.
I had never really thought about what I wanted before Dean casually dropped into my life out of nowhere. I was always there for the moment, living in the now, never looking ahead. My career had always been a sticking point in the past. I grew to accept that I was forever meant to spend my life flitting from one guy to another, keeping it casual because I knew that they'd be turned off by the idea of only seeing their girlfriend for a few days a week, even if we were way past just dating. Before I met Dean, I was having some well-deserved me-time. I was bored of the dating scene, exhausted even. I was tired of guys giving it the big talk and then whining a few weeks later when they couldn't see me when they wanted.
Dean was a breath of fresh air. He was relaxed and easy-going, but still exuded confidence in a way that I can only put down to his line of work. Sure, he was cocky and cheeky but it wasn't an act or a charm-offensive – it was just him. He asked me questions and was genuinely interested in my answers; there were no glazed expressions I had come to expect from previous dates. And whilst we took it slowly, inching along an untrodden path, my mind occasionally started to wander to what our destination might be. At first it was wondering if this was love and after that mind-blowing realisation on both our parts, I started to think what was next. What milestone was next on the horizon?
Trust Lex's surprise pregnancy announcement to make us both confess what we wanted. I can remember Lex and Siobhan's faces when I shyly announced that Dean and I were moving in together – there was no surprise, no "are you sure?" It was like everyone else had realised that Dean and I were both headed in that direction before we'd even realised it ourselves. But I decided to keep the rest to myself. The rest being the very abstract possibility of creating a family with Dean. I wasn't ready to publicly admit that we'd discussed that particular gem.
My words to Dean had started out so innocently. An absent-minded comment that turned into so much more the minute the words slipped from my lips. I realised in a fraction of a second how they would sound to him. I wanted to back-track, rewind to moments before when all we were doing was discussing our friends' happy news and leave it at that. I scrambled to correct myself, to make out I meant something else when it was so damn clear that I meant exactly what I said. I stood in that bathroom and I knew I had fucked up. I had destroyed everything we had with one stupid comment.
What I didn't expect was him to be wrapping his arms around me a few minutes later and telling me that it was okay to think about our future together because he did too. I almost had to pinch myself. I never thought that he'd say those words to me. I have never doubted since the moment he told me that he truly does love me. But I had convinced myself that was it. That's all I needed and deserved. Asking for more was selfish and I was stupid to think that anyone could want anything more than that with me. A small voice in the back of my head was constantly telling me that one day, he'd get fed up like all the others and leave, no matter how much of a good thing we had going on.
How wrong could that little voice be. And I can't even begin to express how grateful I am about that fact.
The sliding door creaks open and I glance over to see a disheveled Dean blinking in the sunlight. There is something completely adorable about how he looks in the morning – the ruffled hair, the scruffy stubble, the way his muscles ripple as he stretches and yawns before his long fingers chase away an itch on his stomach or shoulder.
He catches my eye as his arms lower. "I thought," he starts, closing the gap between us, "that we were on vacation."
"You thought correctly," I grin as he nears me, raising my hand to shield against the sun so I can still see his face amongst the glare.
"So why are you down here and not back upstairs in bed with me?"
"You were asleep."
"And?"
"I didn't want to wake you." I smile softly at the image of him splayed out on the bed, the covers pushed down to his waist. It took all the strength I had to let him sleep and not to push them any further south.
He leans down, fingers brushing across my cheek as his face hovers inches above mine. "You're too good to me."
"That I am," I mumble against his lips as he kisses me once, twice, my hand slipping to the back of his neck, making him linger for a moment longer before he pulls back.
"Room for one more?" he gestures at the sun lounger and I nod, moving so that he can sit behind me, his legs stretching out either side of me. His arms wrap around my waist and he pulls me back to him, our fingers tangling as we both attempt to arrange the blanket over us.
I smile contently as I feel his head drop forward, his face in my hair for a brief second before he sighs and leans back again. His hand reaches for mine, tugging it up until his lips brush across my knuckles and a warm shiver runs through me.
"You okay?" he murmurs as he settles his arm around me again, my hand still firmly clasped in his.
"Yeah."
"You watch the sun rise?"
"Sort of."
He chuckles. "Distracted?"
I smile to myself. "Maybe."
"By what?"
I chew my lip for a second. "You."
"You do wonders for my ego, darlin'."
"I think your ego does enough for itself," I shoot back with a giggle as his head rocks forward again and his teeth nip at my earlobe in retaliation.
"She gives with one hand, takes away with the other," he sighs forlornly, but when I glance up at him, an all too familiar grin is gracing his face. "So, what were these thoughts you were having about me?"
"Don't get any ideas."
"Me? Ideas? Never."
I laugh. "I know how that mind of yours works, Mr Ambrose."
"Mr Ambrose?" he pauses and then I jump slightly as his warm breath hits my ear. "Almost sounds as good as Officer Ambrose."
I swallow hard, my mind immediately clouding with the memories of that particular evening. Throughout all the late night chats we'd had about my fantasy, we'd never actually discussed when or where. When I opened the door to see Dean standing there decked head to toe in uniform, I almost lost it. Not that I wanted to back out at any point, I was just overwhelmed by his commitment to fulfill my desires. Some guys may have taken advantage of the situation, pushed things further than agreed. Not Dean. He stayed well and truly within the boundaries we had clearly discussed beforehand, as well as being quick to notice any signs of hesitation from me. And not once has he ever tried to introduce what we did that night into our normal antics without a direct request from me.
Dean's fingers slip from mine, reaching to push the hair away from my neck instead. "Another fantasy you got playing on your mind?" he whispers.
I cock my head to the side so I can look up at him. "You're the one who liked the sound of Mr Ambrose. I think it's you that's harbouring a secret fantasy."
"Such as?"
"You tell me."
He shakes his head with a smile. "I'm not the one with the over-active imagination. Plus," he drops his head low, his mouth close to mine. "I enjoy listening to you describe exactly what you want me to do to you."
"Enjoy is a bit of an understatement."
His finger trails down my throat, making me shiver as he holds my gaze. "Perhaps." He inhales slowly as his finger reaches the collar of my shirt. "This mine?"
I nod. "Want it back?"
"Is that an invitation?"
I don't respond. Instead, I sit up and slowly ease myself around until I'm straddling Dean's lap. He holds my gaze steadily, his eyes only flickering south once as I reach for the hem of the shirt and start to drag it upwards.
"Not here," he mumbles. "Inside."
"Here."
"Becca..."
But all words and thoughts of moving are long forgotten as I drop the shirt behind me. He groans softly, his arms winding around me as he pulls me back to him, his mouth desperately seeking out mine as I slowly rotate my hips and feel him arch beneath me.
His hand cups the back of my head, fingers in my hair as he tries to pull me down into a kiss, but I hold still, taking the time to watch the lust wash over his face, his eyes now unashamedly darting to take in my bare breasts that brush teasingly against his chest. Steadying myself, I reach out to brush my fingers over his forehead, pushing back the messy curls.
"Happy vacation," I murmur before I let him take over, his responding growl rumbling through my body as he kisses me hard.
I pull two beers from the fridge and place them on the counter before starting the hunt for where Dean might have placed the bottle opener. It's the first time I've ventured into the kitchen without him, having previously been banned from the area whilst he cooked dinner. Although that was possibly down to the fact that when we had tried to cook breakfast together, food ended up being the last thing on our minds.
Instead, I was maneuvered to the other side of the breakfast bar, out of reach whilst he concentrated on cooking and I pretended to read my book whilst really taking in the sight of his bare back and trying to hold it together every time he turned to offer me a taste of the spaghetti sauce. All the reasons why we came here have been quickly forgotten, replaced by activities that we could quite happily carry out in our own apartment – eating and sex. Because that's what the entire day has been lost to. Not that I'm complaining. As we laid on the sun lounger this morning, our naked bodies shielded from the rest of the world by the blanket, my stomach started to rumble. We giggled our way back inside, only stopping to re-dress in the essentials before we attacked the kitchen for a breakfast that turned into something far sweeter. Back upstairs, a tug of war with the sheets escalated quickly beginning with Dean pulling me up to straddle his face, taking his time to explore me with his tongue until I collapsed forward over his head to clutch at the sheets. I was in a daze as he pulled me back down his body, one hand gripping my ass as I rode him, the other clutching my wrists behind my back.
We exchanged thoughts on heading outside, but I onl got as far as pulling out fresh panties from my case before Dean's hands were on my hips again and I found myself being bent over the large desk in the bedroom. Despite the position, it was slow, Dean's hand guiding me back on his dick at a measured pace, his lips on my shoulders as I wound my hips in a teasing circle until we were both panting and clamouring for our release. When we finally made it back downstairs, we promised each other that we would definitely explore our surroundings tomorrow, beyond just fucking on the balcony again.
But the teasing continued throughout dinner, Dean next to me at the breakfast bar, feigning interest in his food whilst his hand crept onto my thigh and threatened to unravel me once more. No matter how many times I shifted in my seat, trying and failing to move away from his long fingers, he was determined to stoke the fire within me. As he pushed his empty plate away, I was expecting him to pull me back upstairs or at least towards the nearest large-enough surface, but instead, he just pressed a chaste kiss to my temple and started to clear away the dishes.
As I started to help, he suddenly smirked, a devious glint in his eye.
"You okay to finish these?"
"Why, where are you going?"
"Upstairs." His hands brush over my hips as he pulls me to him.
"Again?"
"You'll see." His fingers slip in the waistband of my panties, snapping the material sharply against my skin. "Bring beer."
With the bottle opener finally in hand, I make my way up the stairs, peering around the bedroom door first and finding it empty.
"In here."
As I push open the bathroom door, I can't help the snort of laughter that erupts from me. Dean scowls up at me from the bathtub, which is threatening to over-flow with bubbles. His upper body is completely covered, his hair slick at the tips and starting to curl, his face shiny with sweat. The air is hot and humid, the mirrored walls and high windows starting to mist.
"It's not funny," he gripes as I close the door behind me, still giggling. "I swear I only put a drop or two of bubble bath in here."
"Whirlpool bath," I point out as I offer him one of the beers, watching in amusement as he shakes excess bubbles from his hand to take it. "You're not supposed to use normal bubble bath with them."
"Well, I know that now," he frowns.
"It's okay, you look cute in bubbles."
His frown deepens and I laugh, reaching down to tug my shirt up and over my head. The bath is big enough for two, shaped for one person on either side, but as soon as I step in, he's reaching for me and moving me to sit between his legs, my back against his chest.
"Good job you look cute in them too," he growls in my ear, his hands coming to rest on my shoulders, his thumbs working slow circles across the base of my neck. My head slowly rocks back against him, my eyes fluttering closed as his hands slide down my arms and tug my hands up out of the water.
He's quiet as he works his fingers through mine, slowly twisting our hands together before drawing them up to kiss my finger tips.
"Thank you for dinner," I murmur as he laces my hands around the back of his neck and presses soft kisses to my exposed forearms. "I've missed your cooking."
He scoffs. "You go out to dinner multiple times a week for work, at some of the best restaurants in the country and you miss my cooking?" He presses his mouth to my ear, his voice low and tempting. "You gotta stop it with the compliments, darlin'. My head is getting mighty big."
"You love it really," I shoot back. "And anyway, the best restaurants in the world won't let you eat in them in just your shirt and panties. Or let you watch the chef cook topless."
He chuckles, reaching for his beer and taking a swig before handing it to me. But the second I pass the bottle back and he's set it down, my hand is guided back to behind his neck and he resumes his barely-there kisses along my arms.
"I thought you might drag me back to bed," I comment after a moment of silence.
"Drag you? I hardly think you need persuading."
Touche.
"But I figured you might want to take a bath or shower at some point today," he continues.
"Are you saying that I stink?" I twist my head to look up at him.
He chuckles, his face dipping down to mine. "You smelt of sweat, sex and me, darlin'. And you know damn well that's my favourite combination."
"So you want me clean so you can start over again?"
"Maybe," he winks. "Nothing like a fresh canvas..." His fingers trail across my cheek, his thumb pulling my bottom lip down gently before releasing it.
"So does this mean that you'll be keeping your hands to yourself until we're done in here?"
"Now you know I can't make promises like that." His voice drops an octave, causing a shiver to whisper up my spine. "And you know damn well that if I did make a promise of that nature, you'd make sure I broke it as soon as possible."
"I would do nothing of the sort." I mock-scowl, slowly arching my back so that my breasts start to break through the bubbles. I watch with a smirk as he blinks, struggling to keep his gaze up and on my face. "What kind of girl do you take me for?"
"My kind of girl," he groans, his fingers working their way down my throat, scurrying across my chest to pluck at my exposed nipples before I can sink back into the water again.
"Flattery will get you everywhere," I sigh happily as he curls his arms around me and pulls me back to him.
The bubbles softly pop around us as he shifts again to pick up his beer and once again, we share the bottle.
"Roman text me earlier," he murmurs. "He asked if we could go to Tampa in a few weeks, help out with setting up the nursery. Or rather, I think he wants you and Shiv to get Lex out the house so that she doesn't try to help."
"I though the last time you three put together furniture, it ended in disaster?"
"Hey, that wardrobe of theirs is still standing thanks to mine and Seth's careful construction."
I peer up at him. "That's not how Lex tells that story."
"It's not how Roman tells it either, but it's the truth." He chuckles. "Anyway, he couldn't give a shit – all he wanted was for us to get out the house as soon as possible."
"I wonder why," I grin. "I'm sure if we had moved into the apartment at the same time, nothing would have been unpacked in your presence."
"I don't know what you mean." But his lips are twitching as he raises the beer bottle. He swallows and wipes his mouth.
"Innocent doesn't suit you."
"Funny," he breathes. "It doesn't suit you either."
"Isn't that why you love me?" I look up at him.
"One of the reasons."
His eyes are soft at the edges as he stares down at me, all joking pushed aside. His hands caress my stomach under the water, his fingers splaying out across the soft flesh and I feel dizzy as I remember what we once talked about in another bathroom months ago. My tongue darts out to wet my lips, but I don't know what to say, unformed words catching in my throat as Dean ducks his head down and his nose brushes against mine.
"Hey," he whispers against my cheek. "You okay?"
I nod slowly, still trying to think of how to respond to his words, his actions. "It is easier."
He gives me a puzzled look. "What is?"
"Thinking about us. Now that we live together, I mean."
His eyebrows slowly rise in realisation. "Okay."
"I... I just thought I should tell you that."
He nods. "Is that what you were thinking about this morning?"
"How–"
"I told you before, I can tell when you're thinking about whether or not to tell me something." He kisses my cheek. "It's okay to tell me things like this, Becca."
"I know. I just..." I try to find the right words. "I just feel a bit lost sometimes. And you seem so sure of what we have."
"Aren't you sure of it?"
"That's not what I mean," I struggle to correct myself. "What I mean is that you never seem worried or anxious about where we're going or what we're doing."
He shrugs. "Sometimes you just gotta sit back and enjoy the ride and not worry about those things."
"But don't you worry about those things?"
"Sure," he concedes. "Sometimes. But not at this moment." He takes in my frown. "Darlin', I think it's great that moving in together makes it easier for you think about what's in store for us later down the line. But right now, I reckon we should just enjoy it. Moving in together was in no way supposed to pressure you into thinking that I wanted to move any faster than we already were. I am more than happy to continue at this speed and all I want is just to spend more time with you where possible."
"I'm sorry."
"What for?"
"Over-thinking."
"No need to apologise for that," he tells me with a shake of his head. "Hell, there are times were I do exactly the same. But I'm just saying that maybe we should enjoy tonight and tomorrow before we have to re-join the real world."
"Okay," I agree. "I'm still sorry though."
He rolls his eyes. "Yeah and why's that?"
"Ruining the mood."
"That's easily rectified."
"How so?"
He doesn't reply, not out loud anyway. His lips crash against mine, bubbles floating through the air as he twists me in his arms and then backs me back against the edge of the bath, raising me up until I'm pressed against the wall instead. Gazing down at him, I watch as his eyes travel south, wet hands following as he parts my legs and slowly starts to kiss away the bubbles.
Dean's arm wraps around my shoulders, his lips brushing against the side of my head as we make our way down the dark path towards the lake. It's late but neither of us care about that or the early start we have tomorrow to get back to the airport so that Dean can fly out to the next house show and I can go back home for the rest of the weekend.
Despite the decision to leave the condo at some point, our plans were only midly threatened with long, never-ending kisses followed by Dean pulling me back into bed every time I attempted to leave. It was almost mid-morning by the time we stepped outside, but it was worth it to climb high above the complex and take in the lake and surrounding area. Determined not to let our over-active sex drives get in the way, we headed out for lunch, followed by a walk around the small harbour before we finally headed back to the condo.
And then I had the wise idea of going back out for dinner rather than cooking. A decision which I regretted the second we sat down in the restaurant and Dean's fingers trailed up my thigh under the table. Situated in a corner booth and away from prying eyes, his hand steadily pulled my maxi skirt higher until his fingers could brush over my bare skin, his face neutral as he watched me stammer out my order to the waiter.
"You're going to pay for what happened back there," I tell Dean, not for the first time this evening.
He snickers. "It was worth it."
"You're a bad man, Mr Ambrose."
"There you go with the Mr Ambrose again. Are you sure you're not the one with the fantasy?" he ducks away with a laugh as I take a failed swipe at this head. He turns to face me, walking backwards, the shingle of the lake beach crunching under foot. "And anyway, isn't me being bad why you love me?"
"One of the reasons," I mimic his response yesterday and he offers me a small smile in the darkness.
"Anyway, I would say you're the bad one right now. Luring me down to the lake late at night. I mean," he pauses, waiting for me to close the gap between us. "What kind of man do you take me for?" His arms wrap around my waist, his fingers plucking at the hem of my shirt. He leans down, his face inches from mine. "Late night trips to a lake only mean one thing in my book," he murmurs.
"Yeah and what's that?" I lace my hands behind his neck, holding him to me as his hands finally find their way under my shirt and spread across my lower back.
"Skinny dipping."
"Dean!"
"What?" he grins. "Fine, what was your reason for dragging me down here?"
"There wasn't one."
"Liar."
"And 'dragging you down here?' Like the way you 'drag me to bed?'"
"Oh, so you do admit that you don't much persuading after all?" he chuckles. "I knew it."
I pout stubbornly. "Can't a girl go on a romantic late night walk by a lake with her boyfriend?"
"Sure. But since when did we do romance of the conventional sense?"
"I would say this trip was straight out of the romantic's playbook."
"Perhaps. But don't tell anyone," he stage-whispers with a furtive look around. "It'll ruin my image."
I pinch the back of his neck and he hisses. "That bad boy act has never had me fooled. You're a sap through and through."
"Only for you."
The water laps at the shore as I pull him to me, my lips meeting his in a slow, yet passionate kiss. His hands run up my back and he growls into my mouth when he realises I'm not wearing a bra.
"Let's go back," he murmurs against my lips as we draw back for breath, but I shake my head. "Becca... C'mon..." His hand reaches for mine, turning back towards the path, but I pull him back.
"No."
"Darlin'," he groans, his arms circling me once agin. "All I wanna do is take you back to the condo and fuck you till you scream." He lowers his voice. "That bad boy enough for you?"
"You could do better."
"Oh, really?"
I nod behind me at the lake with a sly smile and watch as his eyes widen.
"Becca, I was kidding."
"I'm not." I pull back from him, turning away and heading towards the lake. Pausing at a bench near the shoreline, I kick off my shoes and start to unzip my skirt. Turning back to face Dean, who is still frozen in place, I let the skirt fall to the ground before crossing my arms and pulling my shirt up over my head as well. It's too dark to see his face, but as I turn back to face the water, I grin as I hear a muttered 'fuck' followed by the crunch of pebbles.
"If we get caught–"
"What happened to living in the moment?" I remind him as I take a step back towards the water.
"Becca–"
"Whose over-thinking now?"
He groans as he unbuckles his jeans and then: "Hey, that's cheating."
"What is?"
He steps towards me, his fingers reaching out to pluck at my panties. "These aren't allowed."
"Then neither are these," I do the same to him, but I freeze when all I feel is bare skin.
"One step ahead of you," he chuckles. He snaps the waistband of my panties against my hip. "Get rid of these. Now."
"For someone who was just worrying about getting caught, you sure are a stickler for the rules," I grumble as I remove my panties and throw them towards the bench with the rest of our clothes.
"If you're gonna do it, might as well do it right," he murmurs, closing the gap between us and slowly maneuvering me back into the water.
But I dart out of his grip, splashing water back at him as I make my own way further into the water. I glance over my shoulder, laughing as I see him wading furiously towards me, jumping into the dark depths as he catches up with me. His hands grope at my waist, my legs, my arms, but I squirm out of reach, my laughter echoing around in the darkness as I watch the water ripple violently as he dives under water.
And then I'm being pulled down, drawing in a deep breath of air before the water covers me and Dean's mouth latches onto mine. My hands lock around his neck as he cocoons me in his arms, our legs kicking lazily as we fight our way back to the surface, gasping for air before our mouths crash together again.
"You okay?" he mumbles against my lips, his hands moving to push wet hair back from my face.
I nod.
"Cold?"
I shake my head. Sure, I can feel goosebumps rising on my skin, but it's not from the water.
No, it's the way he's looking at me that makes me shiver. The way lust and love covers his face in equal measure, the way his concern for my happiness, my well-being is just as important as the way he makes me scream and beg for more in the most sinful ways possible. It's the way his hand cups the back of my head as we continue to float in the water and his mouth meets mine with renewed fever. It's the way he growls my name as I nip at his bottom lip and then dip down to bite and suck at his neck as he fists my hair with one hand and grabs my bare ass with the other.
"I love you." His voice is a rough whisper that tears through the air loud and clear as he hooks my legs around his waist. His forehead presses against mine as he steadies himself, his feet finding purchase on the lake floor.
I clutch the back of his head, my fingers working their way through the wet curls of hair as I feel my heart pound and my response threatens to stick in my throat. "I love you too," I eventually gasp as he slowly eases me up and down.
"Don't think," he murmurs against my throat before he pulls back, a familiar glint in his eye that makes my stomach flip. "Just enjoy the ride."
Fin x