A/n - Let the smut begin! If you don't like smut, you could probably skip this chapter and still follow the story, just having knowledge that the smut occurred.

I was not gentle with my things as I dug clothes out of my duffle. I'd found it in the main hall. I'd stomped back to Dean's room, slamming every door I walked through. If I didn't keep fanning the flames of my anger, I was going to break down. I tore off Dean's clothes and dressed in a hurry. I was tying my hair up in a messy bun when the door opened. I stiffened, turning to face Dean in the doorway. It was hard, letting myself have a last look at him, but I had been doing what I had to do for long enough to suck it up.

We stared at each other. I couldn't speak, because I knew if I did my voice would tremble, and I would melt into a puddle of tears and snot. I wrapped my arms around myself. I didn't know what to do, and I sure as hell didn't know what to say.

Dean moved towards me. His stride was purposeful, his eyes stormy. I was frozen in place. His hand came up, caressing my cheek. He tilted my head back. Before I could pull away, before I could even decide if I wanted to, he had me enveloped in his arms. His lips met mine, and I lost myself for a moment. I was so shocked at first, I didn't respond. As he held me, and I felt his lips on mine, some of my tension drained away. I realized that after everything, it was stupid to deny myself. Maybe Dean and I were only here because he felt bad for me. Maybe he was kind of a man whore. So what? I wanted him, and in that moment I decided that, for once in my life, I was going to get exactly what I wanted.

When Dean tried to pull away, I made a noise in protest, akin to a growl.

I was still mad for the invasion of privacy. I was about to ensure that he made it up to me.

I pulled him to me, deepening our kiss. His hands began to explore my body, over my clothes. I regretted getting dressed.

I have never been one to take the lead, physically. I imagine I was clumsy, but I didn't care. I was desperate to feel him. ALL of him. I couldn't stand the fact that there were so many things between us, especially clothes. I pawed at his shirt, breaking our kiss long enough for him to pull it over his head. I couldn't help but moan softly as I took in the sight of his perfectly formed upper body.

"Are you sure-" He must have taken it as a sign of hesitation.

"You talk too much." I nearly ripped my shirt to get it off. It was Dean's turn to growl, and as he looked at me, standing in my black bra and jeans, I felt a thrill. Even my ex had never looked at me with so much hunger.

We collided. Maybe it was only sex, but in that moment, we were desperate for one another. Dean took over. He pillaged my mouth, lifting me off the ground like I was made of air. I wrapped my legs around him, and he clawed at my bra, his chest rumbling in frustration as he finally ripped it off. He kissed down my neck, nibbling and biting along my collar bone. We fell on to the bed, scrambling to remove the rest of our clothes.

It felt like forever, but finally, there was nothing between us. God, he was breathtaking.

Dean pushed me down into the bed, his body commanding me until I was laying flush with his covers. He bent down, and when his mouth closed around my nipple, I quivered in pleasure. He teased me, kissing and caressing the rosy nubs until they were hard peaks.

I writhed beneath his ministrations. My body begged him for more when I couldn't speak any more. Slowly his kisses moved down my body, leaving tingly echoes in their wake. He kissed the scar just below my stomach and I closed my eyes as he drew my legs apart.

When I felt his lips close around my button, I felt the sensation move through my body. I moaned his name. It seemed to enflame him, his tongue moving with more intensity, exploring me further. I ran my fingers through his hair. I didn't want him to stop, but I wanted so much more.

He placed a finger inside me, moving it in time with his mouth. I could feel a familiar pressure building inside of me. Dean seemed to know just how to make me feel like a woman. He brought me to my peak, and drew me back again. He controlled every feeling. It was obvious I was not going to come until HE decided it was time. I would have sold my soul for an orgasm.

"Dean…" I couldn't manage more than that, but I used his name like it was a plea. Finally, he allowed me to follow the waves of pleasure over the edge… It was like an explosion in my core, washing over every inch of my body. He stayed there with me, kissing and softly running his tongue along the most intimate part of me, milking every drop of pleasure out of me, stopping just before it became too much.

We were both panting as moved up the bed, an unspoken question in his eyes. I had yet to regain control of the part of my brain that allowed for verbal communication, so I just nodded emphatically, grasping his arms as he hovered over me. I could feel him, even before he entered me. Whatever magic he had worked down there, I could feel the air move, tingling as he poised himself at my entrance.

Dean wasn't subtle in much of anything, and he wasn't about to start now. He entered me in one long, swift thrust. I damned near came again. I cried out, unprepared for the size of him as he filled me. I arched my back. No matter how deep he went, it didn't feel like enough. He pulled out of me, and I nearly cried from the sense of loss I felt. I clung to him, but his eyes had a mischievous gleam as I tried to pull him to me. He shook his head, holding my hands above my head, pressed down on the bed under one of his own.

I whimpered. I begged. He teased. He remained just outside of me as he kissed my breasts and neck, nipping me hard enough to leave a mark on my collar bone. As him mouth claimed mine hungrily, he finally thrust back in to me with so much force that the bed shook. He moved within me, and I lost control. There was nothing for me but the feel of his body on mine. I felt him in every inch of me as our bodies pressed together, slick with sex and sweat.

It was hard, fast, and perfect. I felt carnal. It had taken over me, and it didn't matter anymore what it meant. I only cared that it felt damned good.

I wanted more. I wanted to grab Dean and hold him deep inside me. I wrapped my legs around him. He groaned as I drew him in as deep as he would go, my movements becoming fevered as I rocketed towards another climax. His fingers tangled in my hair, and he released my hands to explore my body. We didn't make love. We fucked. There was no other word for it.

Dean must have felt how close I was. He cupped my chin with his hand, holding my head in place. "Look at me." He growled his voice husky. His gaze held mine, and all I was aware of were his eyes, and the feeling of him moving in me. He was pushing me forcefully towards orgasm. It wasn't like the first one. This wasn't meant to be savored, it was meant to be taken.

It hit me like an atomic bomb. I cried out. I didn't care if I was loud. I didn't care who heard me. I cried out to Dean, I cried out to God, I may have spoken in tongues, as my orgasm destroyed me, rebuilding me piece by pleasurable piece.

Dean didn't slow down. He didn't break eye contact, and he didn't let me go as I flew, seeing spots as he filled me. We may as well have been on the moon, for all I cared as I begged Dean for more. He was telling me how sexy I was, how strong I was, how beautiful. I felt the words vibrate through me, and I came again, clenching around him, my body clinging to him with a mind of its own. At the peak of my release, his fingers clenched in my hair. His body tensed, and he thrust in to me. With the force of our anger, frustration, and desperation, he came.

We didn't move. We didn't disengage. He was still inside me as he bent down, kissing my lips and the mark on my collar bone. Every time he touched me, it felt like a localized, mini orgasm.

My hair had fallen free, and he ran his fingers trough it as he held me to him. I allowed myself the luxury of pretending for a moment that we could stay this way forever, that it had been more than just pity sex or an angry fuck.

I expected him to get up. I thought he would get up and get dressed, and leave me to my packing. Instead, he wrapped both arms around me, holding me tight against his chest as he rolled to his back. I breathed in the smell of him. Sex smelled good on him. I kissed his chest.

"Thank you." I whispered. Maybe it was just pity sex, but I felt as if all the tension had left my body.

He pulled back a bit and looked me in the eyes. His face was confused. "For what?"

"For fucking me like I could handle it." No point mincing words, now.

He laughed quietly, pulling me closed. "You can definitely take it. Potty Mouth."

I closed my eyes. Dean was being so sweet. It made it easy to pretend that I could take it, that I didn't still feel the need to run.