"I'll be right back, I promise."

"I know, Dean, I'll be here."

They had barely made it inside the apartment before Dean had realized that they were unprepared for their planned activities. So, he had made the adult decision to run down to the nearest open liquor store and acquire what they needed.

So, he had peeled himself off of her from where they had landed, tangled together on his couch. Now, he stood above her, panting heavily, and staring down at her with lust-blown pupils.

"So, don't move, alright?"

"I'm not going anywhere," she smiled softly.

"And I'll be really quick, so just, y'know, make yourself comfortable, and you can help yourself to any—"

"Dean, go."

"Yes, ma'am!"

With that, he was out the door with one last, searing kiss.

She fell back against the couch, sighing heavily. She bit her lip to contain the high-pitched squeal that wanted to leave her at that moment.

She sat up, absent-mindedly fixing her outfit and making herself a little more presentable. Then she thought about it, and she felt more than a little stupid.

She got to her feet and began walking over to the bedroom. She stood in the doorway, staring at the bed, her heart still pounding.

Before she could think twice about it, she ran back out to the couch and threw her coat over it.

Then she stepped a little closer to the bedroom and kicked off her loafers.

Then a little closer, she shed her stockings.

A little closer, and there went her skirt.

Right in front of the bedroom, she got down and laid out her shirt in what she hoped was an enticing way.

Now in just her underwear, she surveyed her handiwork. Satisfied that it was acceptable, she turned to the bed. Quickly tucking in the sheets, she made it look nice and presentable before climbing on top of it.

She sat awkwardly in the middle of the bed for a moment, trying to decide how best to approach the situation. She laid back against the pillows, crooking one knee and letting the other rest flat against the mattress—Dean's mattress really was a hundred times better than her shitty motel one—and took a deep, steadying breath. She let her arms rest atop the pillows on either side of her and tried to settle in.

No, this was entirely wrong.

She crawled onto her hands and knees before lying down on her stomach. She rested her elbows in front of her and her head in her hands as she kicked her feet up behind her.

No, this was worse.

She rolled over onto her back, sprawling out. She huffed, frowning.

Maybe it was her outfit, she decided. She could dig through her bag of things that they'd brought from her motel room, see if there was anything better.

Who was she kidding? She didn't have anything nice for this kind of thing. She was an idiot—Meg had been teasing her for almost as long as she'd known her, offering to take her to the department store lingerie section, "get a present for Dean," and she'd been too embarrassed to take her up on it.

So there she lay on his bed in her comfortable but wholly unsexy underwear.

She glared at the ceiling, wracking her brain for her next move. Crawling back up the bed, she planned to lie on her side facing the doorway when she heard the front door burst open.

There was a moment of silence, and she took the opportunity to throw herself against the pillows again. She heard Dean's gruff voice mutter something that sounded a lot like "son of a bitch" as she tried to remember how her limbs worked.

The door of the bedroom opened slowly, the hinges creaking quietly.

Y/N was sprawled out awkwardly on the bed in her increasingly unattractive underwear. She stared up at Dean, feeling more than a bit like a deer in headlights.

He looked a little out of breath—had he run to the store and back?—as he leaned just slightly against the doorjamb.

Her brow furrowed and she crawled up to rest on her knees. "Are you okay, Dean?"

"I'm perfect, doll," he pulled out that stupid grin, the one that always made her heart flutter like a damsel in a romance novel.

His eyes roamed over her, the grin turning into a soft smile. His emerald eyes met her Y/E/C ones, and he seemed unsure of himself for a moment. It was so strange to see that concern cross his face and she wanted nothing more than to take it away. "You sure, sweetheart?"

She huffed out a humorless laugh. "I, uh…really?"

The hand that wasn't holding the small brown paper bag went up to rub the back of his neck. "I just…you deserve better."

She crawled off the bed, walking up to stand toe to toe with Dean. "Pretty sure you got it backwards, Dean."

He frowned and said nothing.

She took the bag from his hands and tossed it onto the bed. She then removed his hand from the back of his neck, twining their fingers together. She leaned up into him, standing on her tip-toes, and pressed a kiss to his lips.

He let go of her hands, one immediately going into her hair and the other to the small of her back, resting on the silk of her shorts. Her own hands wrapped around his neck, holding him to her.

When she pulled away, she took his hands once more, pulling him towards the bed.

He laughed as she sat down, still tugging on him. "Doll, I think I'm more nervous than you are."

She smiled. "I'm just hiding it better. Gimme a minute."

Dean crawled atop her, his lips fastening to hers once more. She opened her mouth for him almost immediately, pulling a quiet groan from him.

His hand found a home on her waist, his pinky playing with the elastic of her slip. She arched into him, trying to silently communicate with him. He seemed to understand, though, since he began pushing down. He shoved it all the way down and she kicked it off once it was low enough.

Her own hands went to work, trying to undo his vest with shaky fingers. He shucked off his coat before helping her finish off his vest, which joined his coat on the floor. She immediately began unbuttoning his shirt whilst he went for his pants.

He got his pants undone before she finished with his shirt and he finally moved away from her, sitting up on his haunches. She grinned, following him up. She let her lips fall to his neck, kissing on the tender skin under his jaw as she fumbled with his shirt. He pushed her back a little to get his tie, then leaned down to intercept her lips once more.

Smiles were plastered on their faces, tiny giggles the only thing to be heard in the quiet, dark bedroom. Finally, his shirt was unbuttoned and it nearly came off, before getting caught at his wrists.

She snorted trying to keep her laugh in. He was obviously a little embarrassed, a little flustered, but a lot laughing with her. He undid the buttons on his wrists as Y/N's hand ran up to trace the bit of tattoo under his collar bone that poked out through his undershirt. She leaned forward, kissing it through the fabric.

When she pulled away, he was staring down at her with a warm, loving look in his hunter green eyes. She answered with a giant smile. "I love you, Dean."

He answered her by ripping off his undershirt before introducing their lips again. She wrapped her arms around him, her soft fingers exploring the huge expanse of his back. Her tongue rolled across the seam of his lips, and he was happy to oblige. Their tongues danced for a few moments before she pulled back. "Pants."

He smiled widely, leaning down to peck her on the lips once more before flipping around to sit on the edge of the bed and begin ripping his shoes, socks, and pants off. As he worked, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders from behind, kissing along his hairline and the shell of his ear.

"Sweetheart," he said breathlessly. "I can't concentrate on this when you're doing that."

She hummed in response, but didn't stop.

"You're gonna kill me."

She chuckled, her fingers dancing down his chest.

That seemed to spur him on more. She squeaked as he suddenly flipped around, clad only in his boxers, and pinned her down to the mattress. The kiss pressed against her lips was bruising, but quickly over in favor of trailing down. His plush lips traveled down over her collarbone, marking his territory with little bites. When he reached her bra, he kissed along the edge of each cup, making Y/N whine and writhe beneath him.

His right hand trailed feather-light up her spine, her back arching to give him room. He finally reached the clasp at the back and unsnapped it with ease.

She was shrugging off the straps before he could react. His slack-jawed expression as she threw the undergarment to the side was priceless.

"God, sweetheart," he almost growled, leaning down to attach himself to one of her nipples.

She gasped, suddenly forgetting how to breathe. His hand acquainted itself with her free breast, and her fingers with Dean's short hair. His teeth grazed her nipple and she nearly tore out entire chunks of his hair. He switched, quickly kissing his way over, and she wrapped her legs around his hips in response. "Dean," she begged.

He pulled back, leaning up to kiss her again. Her hands left his head, trailing down his chest to his boxers. Her fingers played with the edge of his boxers. When he thrust his hips against her hands, the hard length hidden underneath the fabric hitting her right in the crux of her thighs, she took the hint.

Her hands reached around, pushing down the boxers enough to grab two handfuls of his ass. She gave a squeeze, which made Dean laugh. "Think I know what you like, baby doll."

"One of many things," she wiggled her eyebrows playfully.

Then she pushed his boxers down enough for him to shimmy the rest of the way out of them. She pulled back, desperate for a look. His cock was standing straight, the head of it red and with a small amount of precum leaking.

She froze up a little at the size of it, which Dean noticed immediately. "You okay, doll?"

She nodded, her Y/E/C eyes not moving.

He sighed and cupped her cheek, forcing her to lock eyes with him. "Hey," he whispered. "We can stop right here, right now."

The tension immediately left her, and she leaned up to press a soft, sweet kiss to his lips. "I don't want to."

He pulled back. "You're sure?"

She nodded. "Yeah, I just…I wasn't expecting it to…" she flushed, her entire face turning bright red.

A big, Grinch-esque smile crossed his face. "Oh? Really? What weren't you expecting?"

"Shut your face, Winchester."

"Well, I'm just curious," he leaned down, his lips ghosting against her ear. "What weren't you expecting?"

"You know damn well, Dean," she grumbled.

"Hmm, can't say I do."

"I'm not saying it. Your ego's big enough."

"My ego, you say?"

Her hands covered her face and she groaned out loud. "Why do I love you again?"

"I'm adorable."

She laughed, her hands falling away. "That must be it."

He nuzzled into her neck, turning her quiet laugh into full-blown giggles. Then his hand trailed down from her ribcage to her panties, and the giggles stopped.

Her hand reached down, experimentally touching his dick. He groaned like he was in pain before pulling back.

She frowned, sitting up on her elbows. "Are you okay?"

"Maybe a little too okay," he laughed without humor. He took a deep, shuddery breath before he spoke again, "I just…it's been a while for me, and I don't wanna end the night early."

She nodded slowly. "O…Okay…"

He pressed a quick kiss to her lips. "Next time, I'm gonna be begging you to do that, though."

She smirked. "I won't make you beg."

He groaned. "Focus, Dean," he mumbled to himself.

Without another word, he tore her panties down her legs, making her yelp. Then he was rubbing his middle finger through her folds, which made her shout in surprise. He grinned, and she lightly slapped his chest in recompense.

He leaned down, kissing her deeply as his finger rubbed her slick over her lower lips. The moment he found her clit, she dug her nails into his bicep, trying to keep quiet. "Fuck me, Dean," she moaned, her head falling back against the pillow.

The smirk he gave her was almost audible. "That's the plan, sweetheart," he spoke quietly, pride lacing his tone.

"You're insufferable," she ground out, trying to form words and not moans.

"I love you too, doll," he answered, almost nonchalantly.

Tears built behind her eyes, but she laughed quietly in disbelief. "Well, how could you not?"

He leaned down, kissing her soft and slow, his left hand resting between her shoulderblades as his right hand went back to work at her clit.

She moaned against his mouth as her hands flew to the warm expanse of his back, feeling the muscles work deliciously under her fingers.

Then, one finger teased her opening. She pulled away from the kiss, resting her forehead against Dean's. His hot breath fanned over her face, somehow making it even harder for her to breathe.

When his finger slipped inside, she completely forgot her own name.

"Doll, you gotta relax," Dean cooed, peppering her face with kisses. "I don't wanna hurt you."

She whined quietly, tilting her hips up so he had better access.

His smile could be felt through the kisses along her jaw. He pumped his middle finger in and out of her slowly, working her open as gently as he could.

What felt like a thousand years later, his pointer finger joined in. Now with a partner, his fingers got a little more daring. They scissored and crooked, trying to find every spot in her that made her squirm and cry out for more.

Finally, he slid a third finger in her and she grabbed his face, pulling him in for a kiss. "Dean," she panted. "Please."

A low string of obscenities left his bruised lips. He got off of her, reaching down to the floor where the bag he had brought home lay. He reached in and pulled out the small box of condoms he'd bought, ripping it open quickly. He used his teeth to remove the next bit of packaging, revealing his prize. With a speed she'd not seen from him before, he rolled the condom down over his length.

Dean then laid down on his back, holding his hand out to Y/N. She took it, eyeing him strangely. He lightly tugged her closer via their connected hands. "Put one leg on either side of me, sweetheart," he whispered. She did as requested, awkwardly settling in. Once she seemed comfortable, he pulled her down to his level, kissing her once again, holding her as close as humanly possible. She clung to him, finding even one centimeter of space between them unfathomable.

She pulled away, sitting up on top of Dean and breathing heavily. Her face flushed at the position and she stuttered out, "Um…shouldn't you—?"

"You can control how fast we go this way," he answered quietly, his hands running from her waist to her rib cage. As they wrapped around to find purchase on her shoulder blades, he sat up, pulling her into a sweet kiss.

Her own hands cupped his cheeks, holding his face to hers. "And you say I deserve better."

He chuckled. "Agree to disagree?"

She kissed him once more, a quick, close-mouthed kiss, as she felt his hand slide down her back to where their hips were resting near each other. She sat up a little more on her knees, giving him room to maneuver his hand in between them. He gripped the base of his cock, rubbing his tip along her folds. Her head fell into the crook of his neck, biting her lip to hold in the moan that threatened to leave her.

She felt her hair being pushed away from her face a little. "You ready, doll?"

She nodded, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. She mumbled a profession of love against his skin as he finished lining himself up with her entrance.

A small kiss was placed to her temple, and his free hand rubbed soothing circles into her back. "Whenever you're ready, sweetheart," he spoke, his voice slightly strained.

Not wanting to make him wait any longer, she began sinking down.

The hand that had been holding him in place flew up to grip her hip tightly. She could already feel the bruises forming.

It burned a little, but not as much as she had worried. She had to stop once to take deep, shuddering breaths. Dean held her close the entire time, whispering how perfect, how beautiful, how amazing she was into her ear.

When she was finally rested against her hips against his, it didn't hurt too much. She pulled herself from the crook of his neck and looked down at Dean.

He smiled up at her. "You're doing so good, baby," he whispered.

She huffed out a laugh, holding him tightly against her. "Sorry, I need a moment."

He brought her head down, "Take your time," he mumbled against her lips. "We got all the time in the world."

Y/N sat up, took a deep breath, and rolled her hips. It stung a little, but the look on Dean's face made her forget all about that. She rocked her hips back and forth, clutching to him tightly as the pain gave way to pleasure.

The hand on her hip guided her gently, whilst the hand he had on her shoulder blades pushed her up against him, smashing their chests together.

She sped up bit by bit, the band in her stomach tightening with every move of her hips. Soon enough, she was moaning out Dean's name and broken expletives into the ether.

That broke him.

Without warning, she was flipped onto her back, Dean holding himself up by his elbows above her, a smirk on his face.

She grinned brightly leaning up to kiss him as he pulled out and pushed into her.

The new angle let Dean hit a spot inside of her that she had never been able to reach herself. She keened, scratching at him like she was blind and searching for purchase.

One arm wrapped around her waist, the other holding himself up as he began pounding into her.

The sounds leaving Y/N's mouth could, in the broadest sense of the word, be counted as sentences. Usually punctuated with a curse word rather than a period, she began praising Dean, telling him how much she loved him.

He responded by whispering how beautiful, how tight and hot and wet she was, and how he wasn't going to last long.

He sat up on his haunches, pulling her onto his lap. Now not needing to hold him up, his hand found her clit and began rubbing at it harshly.

She gripped tightly to the sheets by her head. "Dean, I'm gonna—"

"I know, c'mon, doll," he whispered hoarsely. "Come for me."

The sound that left her mouth was not one either had ever heard leave a human before. A half dozen more thrusts, working in tandem with his calloused fingers working the tiny bundle of nerves where they were connected, and she fell over the precipice.

His name left her lips in a strangled prayer, and she vaguely felt him pump into a few more times before her convulsions sent him spiralling into his own orgasm.

Dean fell forward, catching himself on him hands and hovering above her.

Y/N laughed breathlessly, grinning up at her lover. Her hands grabbed him by the neck and pulled him into a sloppy kiss. He pulled back and began peppering her face with kisses, causing her to giggle even more.

When they began to cool, Dean stopped his kisses and pulled his softening cock out of her (which was probably the strangest feeling of the night for her) and disposed of the condom. He walked out into the bathroom, and she heard the tap running for a moment before he returned, a ratty-looking washcloth in his hand. He rubbed soothing circles into her hips and waist as he cleaned her up. Once he cleaned himself up, he threw the cloth into a pile of laundry. She'd taken the chance to pull back the covers and snuggle up under them whilst he was busy. When he turned back to her, she held the blanket up and patted the mattress with her free hand.

He made himself comfortable under the blankets, laying on his back and letting his girl use his arm as her pillow. She rested her head against his tattoo, her fingers tracing random patterns into the far side of his ribs.

She looked up at him, resting her chin on his chest. "I love you, Dean."

He smiled down at her, pressing his lips to her forehead.

"Thank you. For…this, for letting me stay here, for—"

"Doll, I love you, but you've tired me out. Can we have girl talk in the morning?"

She smacked his chest hard enough for the sensation to be just shy of painful. "Oh, you're so lucky I'm tired too, wise guy."

He laughed, pulling her closer. "I'm lucky for a lot-a reasons, sweetheart."