I took a moment, breathing deeply, hoping to catch the faintest whiff of his cologne that might've lingered. Every corner of this room held a memory, and I felt the weight of each one pressing on my chest. I found comfort in the small things — the texture of the sheets he chose, the worn-out leather jacket hung carelessly on the back of his chair.

I wandered over to the bedside table, picking up the unframed photograph. Young Dean, with that mischievous look in his eyes, stood beside his mother, both beaming. My fingers brushed the photo, tracing their outlines, wondering what it might've been like to know him then.

The four pillows on his bed stood out, and I couldn't help but smile at the thought behind it. Dean always joked about the extra pillows, but he knew they made me comfortable, and he wouldn't have it any other way. The idea of him buying those just for me warmed my heart.

I sank onto the edge of the bed, feeling the soft fabric beneath me. It was tempting to curl up there, to be surrounded by what little of him remained in this room. It was his space, and I had always respected that. But tonight, I needed to feel close to him, to remember the strength of his arms around me, the gentle rasp of his voice whispering sweet nothings.

Hugging one of the pillows close, I inhaled deeply. There it was — that familiar scent of his, a mixture of leather, gunpowder, and the woody cologne he liked. My emotions overwhelmed me. I missed him more than words could express, and the silence of the room echoed the void he had left behind.

Hugging the pillow close and with a shaky hand, I tapped on his name, watching the word "calling" flash on the screen. My heartbeat quickened, each thud resonating in the silence of the room. Subconsciously pressing my earphone, the seconds stretching into what felt like minutes.

"Come on, Dean…" I whispered, clutching the phone a bit tighter.

After several rings, I began to lose hope. Just as I was about to hang up, there was a click on the other end.

"Hello?" It was his voice. Gruff, slightly groggy, but unmistakably Dean.

I was momentarily stunned into silence. The relief, joy, and anxiety all blending into one overwhelming emotion. "Dean," was all I managed to say, my voice cracking with the weight of my feelings.

"Hey," he responded, a note of surprise in his tone. "Wasn't expecting your call. Is everything okay?"

I chuckled softly, brushing away a tear. "I just… missed you," I admitted. "Needed to hear your voice."

There was a pause, and I could picture him, on the other end, ruffling his hair, a half-smile on his lips. "I miss you too," he finally said. "Every damn day."

I was caught speechless. Dean typically isn't one to openly express his feelings, but he always manages to surprise me. Hearing him admit he missed me made me giddy like a teenager. Just then, a mischievous idea sparked in my mind. I prompted Dean, "Guess where I am right now?"

There was a brief pause before he responded, "No clue. Fill me in."

Taking a deep breath, I admitted, "In your room. Just... trying to catch any lingering scent of you."

He chuckled, his voice warm, "You know it's only been what, a few days, maybe a week since I left?"

"I know, I know," I sighed, frustration evident in my voice, "but it feels... longer." I trailed off, letting the weight of the silence communicate what I couldn't put into words.

I sighed, struggling to find the right words. "It feels like forever. I know it sounds silly, but the bunker feels... emptier without you. Colder. Everything just seems duller when you're not around."

Dean's chuckle was soft, filled with warmth. "You always did have a flair for the dramatic."

I rolled my eyes, like he could see it. "Shut up, Winchester. Just... come home soon, okay? Until then I'm cuddling your pillow, wrapping my legs around it, pretending it's you." To which I did.

Dean's breathing seemed to become a bit more shallow. "Yeah?" he said, trying to maintain the casualness in his voice, but I could hear the shift, the underlying curiosity and desire.

"Yeah," I whispered, "It's the closest thing to having you here with me. It's silly, I know, but it's comforting."

There was a pause, and I imagined Dean taking a moment, picturing the scene in his mind. "You're not being silly, Rae. Believe me, if I could be there with you right now... I'd be there in a heartbeat."

I smiled, feeling a warmth spread through me. "So, Mr. Winchester, if you were here, what would you do?"

He chuckled softly, "Now you're just trying to torture me."

I smirked, "Maybe a little. You started it."

He sighed, "Well, for starters, I'd kick that damn pillow away and take its place."

I chuckled, giving the pillow a playful squeeze. "Poor thing. But if it were you here instead, holding wouldn't be the only thing on my agenda."

"Oh?" his voice had a teasing lilt. "And what exactly would be on that agenda, sweetheart?"

The memory of our last encounter flashed in my mind, making me bite my lip. "I might be inclined to explore a bit... get reacquainted with every inch of you."

His laughter held a hint of warmth and mischief. "Kinda like what happened in the garage?"

I raised an eyebrow, even though he couldn't see it. "Sounds like someone's been reminiscing. You didn't mind, did you?"

There was a playful growl on the other end. "Mind? Hell, I've been replaying it every chance I get."

I caught my lower lip between my teeth, recalling our time in the garage. The power I had felt, having Dean at my mercy, only to have the tables turned so deliciously. The thought consumed me, and knowing he revisited that moment as often as I did only heightened my excitement.

Lost in the memory and sensation, it was only Dean's voice, deep with concern, that snapped me back. His voice was huskier now, "You okay there, sweetheart?"

Blushing, I managed to mutter, "Yeah... just thinking."

There was a knowing pause on the other end. "About us in the garage?" he teased.

"I... maybe," I admitted sheepishly. The memory was so vivid, but so were the others, the emotions so raw. It wasn't just about the physical, it was our connection with each other, the primal lust we have for one another.

His soft chuckle made my skin shiver. "You know, every time I walk into that garage now, it's hard not to think about... "

Chuckling softly, I replied, "Well, I might be able to do something about it. I've got a little something that I think will get your engine revving." I paused for effect, letting the anticipation build.

There was silence on his end, and I could practically hear his imagination running wild. After a few moments, Dean cleared his throat, a hint of mischief in his voice. "You're really doing a number on me, Rae. But you've piqued my interest. I've gotta say, you just gave me a hell of a reason to wrap this hunt up fast."

Hearing him react that way was turning me on. Just the tone of his voice was enough to make me wet. I found my hands wandering, tracing the path from my neck down to my chest. I wanted to make him crave me, to hear that unmistakable hitch in his breath, to make him lose control, just as he always does to me.

I replied playfully and breathily, "You remember that lacy babydoll you got me for Valentine's? Guess what I'm wearing." From the other end, I could hear Dean's breath hitch, followed by a sound that suggested he remembered all too well.

There was another pause, tension even over the phone. "You really are playing with fire, aren't you?" His voice was lower now, revealing his attempt to maintain control.

"I thought you liked it hot," I teased, a smirk in my voice.

There was a soft chuckle on the other end. "You have no idea how much I wish I was there right now," he admitted, his tone sincere.

"Really?" I teased. "So tell me what you would do when you walk through that door."

He paused, collecting his thoughts. "First, I'd take my time looking at you," he began, his voice deepening. "I'd come up close, press my lips against yours, feeling the warmth of your body. Then, I'd run my hands over the soft fabric of your babydoll, tracing every curve, feeling the contrast between the lace and your skin."

My breath caught, and my heart quickened with every word Dean uttered. "What happens then, Mr. Winchester?" I playfully prodded.

"I'd slowly undo that ribbon again, with my teeth," he whispered. It was enough to set my body on fire.

My fingers danced over the fabric, mimicking the way he'd undone it that night, allowing the ribbon to loosen. The delicate material gave way, and my breasts free, the sensation making me even more aware of my own arousal. The memory of his touch combined with the reality of my vulnerability in this moment was a heady mix. Would he appreciate the view if he were here right now? I thought. The mere notion caused heat to flood my cheeks and between my legs.

A shiver ran down my spine as I traced the curves of my body, fingers brushing over my sensitive skin. The feeling was both intimate and electrifying, my brain clouded in the sensations. My fingertips teasing my nipples, and the intensity of it made me draw in a sharp breath, followed by an involuntary moan.

The line went silent for a moment, interrupted only by our ragged breathing. "Rae," Dean's voice rasped, a hint of warning mixed with desire. "What are you doing?"

Caught in my own moment of vulnerability, I hesitated before murmuring, "Just… remembering the way you touch me."

"Rae," he growled, "Are you playing with yourself?"

"Maybe," I murmured, my lip caught between my teeth. "Can't help it. Just the idea of you taking control, forcing yourself on me, you reacting to me…it's intoxicating." My thighs parted instinctively, fingers slowly brushing my sensitive skin, my satin panties wet.

"Keep going," he urged, his voice huskier than before. "Tell me what you're thinking. What would you like me to do to you?"

With a gentle exhale, I whispered, "I imagine you here, at the edge of the bed, all eyes on me on me while you're tied up. I'd love to see that look of desperation in your eyes, baby. Watching me, wanting me, but unable to do anything about it. Me sitting on you while I rub my wetness all over your rock-hard cock."

There was a sharp intake of breath from the other end of the line. "Damn, Rae," he whispered, clearly affected. "You have one helluva imagination."

Feeling the sensation building as my fingers moved rhythmically on my soft, wet, slippery clit, I was on the brink. It was so thrilling. Every moan, every breath I took felt more intense, knowing that Dean was on the other end, hanging on every sound, feeling every sensation with me just as I felt with his words.

His voice broke through my haze of pleasure. "Stop," Dean commanded with an edge. "Open your legs for me, wider." The assertiveness in his tone both surprised and excited me, making me even more eager to follow his instructions.

"Spread them," Dean's voice was firm, a command rather than a request. "I want to see all of you before I bury my face in between you."

I hesitated for a moment, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. But the thought of him wanting to see, wanting to imagine what I looked like in that moment was difficult to resist.

Slowly, I did as instructed, feeling even more exposed and vulnerable. The air seemed cooler on my heated skin, everything in full attention.

"Now," he murmured, "Rub yourself with two fingers. Let me taste you."

I shook at his command, but the thrill of his words and the sensation sent jolts through my body. Every touch was magnified, knowing that he was imagining it as much as I was feeling it. I let out a quiet moan, unable to help myself. I deliberately ran my tongue over my fingers, tasting myself, ensuring the sound was audible on the other end.

He moaned. "Good girl. I love the way you taste, " he whispered huskily. "I wish I could be there, watching every reaction. Keep going, but slow, I want to enjoy every moment."

His words made my heart race even more. The mental image of Dean watching me, taking control of me was heady, adding to the excitement. My fingers explored more, moving with deliberate slowness, prolonging the build-up.

"Talk to me, sweetheart," he urged. "Tell me how it feels." All I could do was moan in response, but I want to- actually -have to respond.

"I wish it was you..."was all I could muster before another moan.

There was a pause, and then Dean's voice, rough with need, replied, "Believe me, if I were there, you wouldn't be able to keep up with what I'd do to you.

"Arch your back and bend over," his voice commanded, low and sultry.

"Dean," I murmured, my voice thick, almost begging, "Tell me. What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to imagine my hands on you," he instructed, his voice huskier by the minute. "Lean forward, Rae. Imagine it's my hands there with you, making you feel the way only I can."

Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I did as he asked, letting my fingers delicately graze my most sensitive spot, warm, wet, and awake in between my fingers. The sensation sent jolts of pleasure making my toes curl. The thought of Dean watching, even just in my mind, made gratifying myself intense.

"That's it," he coaxed. "Go slow, sweetheart. Savor every sensation, every touch. And don't you dare keep quiet. I wanna hear it all.."

With every word he spoke, I could feel him next to me, telling me, his warm breath against my neck. My heart raced, and my breathing grew heavier.

"You have no idea how much I wish I was there with you right now," Dean murmured. "Hearing you, knowing what you're doing... it's driving me insane."

Rae's body moved in rhythm with her desires, fingers gently tracing patterns over her skin, eyes closed, lost in the fantasy she was making with Dean. She was so engrossed in the phone call and the sensations it brought on that she didn't notice the slight creak of the bedroom door.

As she continued to play with herself face down on his bed, she didn't see Dean's figure leaning against the door frame, taking in the enticing sight before him. His eyes, usually so sharp and observant, now glowed with barely restrained lust. Every moan, every sigh that she had thought was just for him over the phone was now playing out right before his very eyes.

He took a moment to appreciate the view, her bountiful ass in the air, her wetness puckering displayed front and center, her fingers gliding over her shimmering and sensitive pearl, his own breathing matching hers. Every curve, every move she made was driving him wild. It was torture and pleasure all at once.

Finally, unable to bear the distance any longer, Dean took quiet steps forward, his presence still unknown to the engrossed Rae. When he was just behind her, he whispered, mirroring her earlier words, "Thinking of what I'd do to you?" The voice, now so real and close, startled Rae, her eyes flying open in surprise, but it was too late.

What she thought was fantasy was now a startling reality. She felt rough, calloused hands on her thighs, spreading her lips wide open, before his warm, strong tongue took her by surprise, tasting her.

Rae's body reacted instinctively, her back arching to meet him as she sought more contact, it made her head spin. Her fingers clutched at the sheets, while her face burrowed deep into the plush pillows, muffling the sounds of pleasure escaping her lips.

Dean seemed attuned to every reaction, every tremble, and every gasp. His movements were practiced but filled with longing, teasing her, drawing her closer to the edge with every touch.

The unexpected touch of his hands on her sensitive nipples sent a shockwave through Rae. His fingers were rough, contrasting with the softness of her skin, yet the way he caressed and teased her was overwhelming her senses. His fingers circled her nipples, alternating between light grazes and firmer touches, making her body respond with involuntary shudders.

Rae released a deep, throaty moan, her fingers clawing at the sheets beneath her, desperate for something solid to hold onto as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her, Dean continuously lashing her with his tongue, swallowing her. The intensity of it all was too much to bear, she bucking away from his grip, but the man wouldn't let her. It was as if he was hungry for her, yearning for every part of Rae with an urgency she had never seen before and he wasn't done.

Bent over with vulnerability and anticipation, Rae felt Dean slip into her. A loud gasp left her lips, a mix of surprise and deep satisfaction. Her hands instinctively tried to grab something, anything, to anchor herself, but Dean snatched her arms behind her back. The dominance in the gesture was electrifying. It was a power play she willingly participated in, feeling the delicious thrill of being taken this way.

Each deliberate thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure through Rae's body, causing her to arch her back even more. Dean's grip on her arms was firm, yet gentle. The angle at which he took her allowed him to reach deeper, hitting spots that made her eyes roll back and her voice hitch with every exhale.

The sensation of being devoured completely while being restrained was exhilarating. Her arms restrained made the sex even more pleasurable for her. The control he exhibited over her in this moment was as intimate as it was erotic.

"Dean," she managed to gasp out, her voice breathy and full of need.

He leaned over her, his body pressing against hers. His mouth was close to her ear, and she could feel his heated breath. "You're so perfect like this," he whispered, punctuating his words with another deep thrust. "You belong to me."

His movements grew more erratic. He was close. Rae could feel every twitch and pulse of him inside her, and she matched his rhythm with her own movements, seeking that height of pleasure.

With a guttural groan, Dean orgasmed, coming deeply within her. The sensation of him spilling inside her sent Rae over the edge once more, their orgasms crashing over them in synchrony. Both of them trembling. He continued to thrust slowly, riding out the aftershocks until both their bodies began to calm.

After a moment, Dean carefully pulled out, his hands releasing her arms. They both collapsed on the bed, limbs tangled, hearts racing, and sweat glistening on their foreheads.

Rae turned to face him, her fingers tracing the lines of his face, taking in the look of pure contentment in his eyes. They lay there, spent and sated, finding solace in each other's presence.

Dean pulled her closer, wrapping an arm around her waist. "Well, isn't this a warm welcome home?" he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

Rae smiled, her eyes half-closed in exhaustion. "In the best possible way," she replied, snuggling into the crook of his neck. The rhythmic beating of his heart soon lulled her into a peaceful sleep, safe in the arms of the man to whom she belonged and loved.