The moment Max's lips touched his, all of her misgivings melted away. For her, the whole world melted away except them—and her desire for him.
She deftly moved to straddling his lap, while taking minimum time away from his kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her elbows on his shoulders. She opened her mouth to take in his breath, which she found as inebriating as his kiss. And when his tongue darted into her mouth, she let out a small moan of ecstasy.
Dean, for his part, had mostly been playing along. Sure, Max was beautiful and there was something about her that piqued his interest, but she had been nervous all night, wavering back and forth about what she actually wanted from him. He had been pleasantly surprised when she sat so close to him. He was blown away when she actually made the first move and so soon! Not that he was complaining.
Her lips were soft and still held a slight hint of whiskey. And he found them almost as intoxicating. When she moved to his lap, well, let's just say the drink wasn't the only thing stiff that night.
As she wrapped her arms around his neck, he slid his hands around her waist. And he took the liberty of sliding his hands under her shirt when she let out her pleased moan. Her skin was soft and warm as he lightly ran his fingers over it, causing her to shiver again in delight.
With his hands on her bare skin, she felt like she was burning up. She tore her lips from his just long enough to remove her hoodie and t-shirt, revealing a plain black bra and a necklace with a gold pendant.
"Sexy," he teased, but quite enjoyed the view. He was letting her set the pace and so was delighted with the progress.
She playfully hit him. "Hey! I didn't expect to bring anyone home tonight, let alone be sitting in the lap of a gorgeous guy." Dean couldn't help it at this point, he liked her.
He started kissing down her neck, using his tongue to retrace his lips' path. He lingered at the base of her neck, feeling her squirm as he teased the sensitive skin. Her reactions felt genuine and rare, like there weren't many who had seen her like this. And that only fueled his desire more.
She loved the feel of his lips and hands on her skin, but she wanted to feel more of his skin against hers. For the moment she concluded that removing his shirt would be a good start. Not to mention it would even things up a bit.
She slowly pulled the front of his shirt out of his waistband and then hesitantly moved her hands under his shirt. His skin was hot to her touch. She glided her hands up his abdomen and down, her lust growing with every millimeter she covered.
With a feather-light touch, she ran her hands over his sides and up his back to his shoulder blades. Then she scratched down his back with her nails, so she could grab the hem of his shirt and pull it off. She froze when her fingers brushed the cold steel at the small of his back.
Dean has been lost in her touch and the taste of her skin when he noticed her stiffen. "Let me explain," he quickly got out as he realized she'd found his weapon. He mentally kicked himself for not leaving it in the car.
She leapt up from her position and was standing on the other side of the couch before the words had fully left his mouth.
"Fuck you!" she seethed. "You're a hunter."
Dean couldn't keep the shock from registering on his face. He opened his mouth to say something, but wisely closed it when he noticed the rage and confusion on her face.
She turned from him and he noticed a small tattoo near her spine, just below her bra. It looked like some sort of writing, but he couldn't figure it out.
She started mumbling to herself. "A hunter!" She paused, then added "Oh god. And not just any hunter," she wheeled back around towards him. "Dean Winchester," she hissed.
Even though she was facing him, she still seemed lost in her own thoughts. "How could I not know?" She looked down at the pendant resting between her breasts and pulled it off. The she flung it across the room. Dean was confident he saw it glow briefly as the chained snapped.
"Dean. Winchester," she repeated his name as if he was the devil himself. And that guy was a prick!
Dean had had enough. "What's your problem with me? You don't even know me!"
She looked at him like she had forgotten he was still in the room. "I know your kind. Hunters. You think you have the right to decide who lives and who dies based on your random moral standards." She jabbed her finger in his direction, "You have killed and murdered more than almost all the rest. Not caring that you are killing people, not just monsters."
Dean was indignant. "I've helped save the world…multiple times! The monsters that I dispose of are the murderers!"
"Those monsters," she started, "Were people once. They didn't ask to be how they are. And instead of trying to help them, trying to find a way to co-exist, you and your kind's only answer is a death sentence!"
Dean's head was reeling from the sudden change in events. He took a deep breath and stood up. "What is going on here?"
Max walked to the door, putting her hand on the knob. Then she replied in an eerily sweet voice, "I'm just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to get THE HELL OUT!"