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arazialotis · 5 months

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This is just... spectacular. Wow!

The Bet (Soldier Boy x Reader)

Word count: 4.4K

Summary: butcher leaves you to keep an eye on soldier boy and things become interesting when a deck of cards gets involved

Tags: (18+), enemies to lovers (not exactly but kinda), canon-typical behavior, soldier boy being soldier boy (yes that’s a warning), humor/comedy, strip poker, bets, kissing, fingering, unprotected p in v sex, table sex, surprise ending

A/N: been wanting to write for a jensen character for a while and got inspired rewatching the boys. the character is such an ass but I can’t help but be into him lol

Cross-posted to ao3 • the boys masterlist • writing masterlist

“We’ll be back in a bit,” Butcher announced, stepping in the direction of the door. He looked between you and Hughie, as if still trying to decide which ‘we’ he wanted. “Come on, lad,” he addressed the latter. Hughie seemed relieved, eyeing Soldier Boy wearily before standing and joining Butcher.

Hughie gave you an apologetic look, while Butcher pointed at you and said, “you—keep an eye on him.” He pointed at the supe, as if it wasn’t obvious.

You scoffed, narrowing your eyes at Butcher. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“No,” Butcher replied casually, ushering Hughie out the door before he himself attempted to step out. You got to your feet and caught the door before he could shut it. Butcher let out a dramatic sound and cocked his head as he looked down at you.

You didn’t find him intimidating, not anymore. You had squared up against the man more than once. Hell, you thought Butcher respected you more for it.

“You have a problem?” he asked, baiting you.

“He’s gonna try and fuck me,” you said bluntly—albeit under your breath.

Butcher scoffed out a laugh, seeming actually amused. He also knew it was true. Ever since Soldier Boy had laid his eyes on you, he’d been gunning for you. Whether it was lewd comments or hungry gazes, it was obvious to everyone. It wasn’t like he was trying to hide it one bit.

“Well, don’t let him then,” Butcher offered in a mocking tone.

Butcher wouldn’t have left you with the man if he thought you’d actually get hurt, you knew that. And it’s not like the supe scared you—at least not for that reason. The only one who seemed outwardly uncomfortable with his behavior was Hughie. You could handle him, but being alone in his company wasn’t an ideal way to spend your afternoon.

“Gee, thanks,” you replied sarcastically.

“Hey lady, I’m a gentleman,” Soldier Boy piped up in a gruff, annoyed voice. He seemed genuinely offended.

“See?” Butcher said in that stupid, I told you so tone. “Like I said, we’ll be back.”

With an annoyed huff, you pulled your hand from the door and allowed the man to pull it shut in your face. You caught his victorious smirk right before. Everything was a showdown with Butcher it seemed, and boy did he love to win.

“So,” Soldier Boy started as you turned back to him. “Are you gonna be a bitch to me this whole time? Just ‘cause I paid you a few compliments?”

You scoffed and shook your head, wondering how he thought saying shit like, “your tits look great in that shirt,” counted as a compliment. Whatever, he wasn’t going to change and you weren’t going to bother yourself with lecturing the stubborn asshole. You and the boys needed him as a weapon, not as a politically correct member of society. You’d burden yourself with whipping him into shape after he took care of Homelander.

“We’re gonna end up with a few hours to kill,” you noted as a change of topic, looking around the room.

You could hear the smirk in his voice when Soldier Boy said, “if you’re looking for suggestions, I have a few ideas.”

You rolled your eyes, but glossed over it. He was attractive and even charismatic—you couldn’t deny that—but he seemed to counter that with the crudeness of his personality. You spotted a deck of cards and grabbed it. “How’s your poker face?” you asked, holding up the cards for him to see.

“Texas hold ‘em?” He actually seemed into the idea.

“Sure, why not,” you decided.

You sat down across from him at the table where he’d been sitting. He pushed aside wrappers and pill bottles to make room. You began to deal and laid out the cards.

“What, you don’t have any chips?” Soldier Boy asked, looking at you expectantly.

“Where would I have chips at?”

“I don’t know, poker was your idea. You can’t play poker without betting.”

“I mean, you can,” you argued half-heartedly. Being alone with him was exhausting already.

“If you’re fucking boring you can,” he shot back. Suddenly, a look you could only describe as devious crossed his face. “We could play strip poker.”

At first, your instinct was to tell him hell no. You should’ve, honestly. Another part of you wondered if it would be fun— it was that impulsive, indelicate side of you that made you work so well with the boys. You must’ve been curious, crazy, or both to agree. But, you did.

“Fine.”

He practically beamed, grinning in victory. You were already starting to regret it. “Now it’s a real game. Gotta have something on the line.”

Even as he said that, you had an inkling that the stakes would be a bit higher for you. And as the two of you played and clothing began to disappear from the both of you, you suspected he wanted to be naked in front of you almost as much as he wanted you to be naked in front of him. That became obvious when he took off his shirt and pants after his first two losses. You’d opted to remove a sock after yours.

Still, the two of you carried on a conversation during the game. It was a shock to you when you began to relax around him. It was even more surprising when you laughed at some stupid joke he made at Hughie and Butcher’s expense.

“You seem like most of the brains behind the operation,” Soldier Boy continued, laying the charm on thick. You could spot it clear as day, but even you weren’t totally immune to it as you grew to actually enjoy the game.

“More like their wrangler,” you replied with a small laugh.

“Maybe they’re too busy grabbing at each other's dicks,” Soldier Boy suggested. It pulled another laugh from you despite the offensiveness of it. Being around the boys for so long you’d developed a darker sense of humor.

A smile crossed his face, seeming proud of himself as he watched you react.

“You startin’ to hate me less?” he asked suddenly, like he just had to know right then.

“What?” you replied with a small chuckle, hardly registering the question for a minute. “Does it matter?”

It seemed to pain him when he replied unconvincingly, “no,” with a scoff. “Well, maybe.”

“Wow, that must’ve been hard,” you commented sarcastically. “Does my opinion actually matter to you?”

“What, a guy can’t make conversation?” Soldier Boy was getting defensive.

Over the past however long, his ego had been deeply bruised. You saw it back when he realized the truth about his team. He’d been betrayed and forgotten. You suspected there was a part of him, a still human part, that was desperately seeking approval. Even if he covered it up.

Still, you dropped it. You could’ve told him that you were beginning to think he wasn’t so bad, but you didn’t want to risk boosting his ego. He was still a dick, you tried not to forget that.

After a few more hands, you were missing socks and pants—still keeping your bra, underwear, and shirt—and he was missing everything except a sock and boxers. You were sort of in the lead, but things were pretty tied up.

You gathered the cards up again and began to shuffle. “Why don’t we play gin rummy?” you suggested. You were getting a tad tired of the same game over and over.

“What? Why? We’ll keep playing this. Deal.”

You let out a huff, but gave in. You decided to just go ahead and deal.

“One last round,” you told him.

“Whatever,” he replied in a mutter, collecting his cards.

You two played and carried on a light conversation about random things. You weren’t really focused on playing truthfully, but you should’ve been. You lost the hand, meaning you had to lose something else. Soldier Boy seemed eagerly awaiting your decision, most likely assuming you’d take off your shirt. You’d already lost your socks and pants, so it seemed like a natural progression.

So, of course, you had to screw with him.

You reached under your shirt and unhooked your bra. You removed the straps through your sleeves and pulled it out from the bottom of your shirt.

“Oh, you’re killing me, sweetheart,” Soldier Boy said huskily under his breath.

You let out a small chuckle to yourself at his reaction. You let him suffer for another few seconds before announcing, “Alright, I’m bored.”

“What?” Soldier Boy furrowed his brows. “No, c’mon, keep playing,” he tried to convince you yet again.

“We’ve been playing for an hour and you refuse to learn any other game,” you argued back.

“I know how to play other games. I just prefer poker.” Soldier Boy frowned as you scraped together the card to put them back in the box. “What about a bet? One last game, winner takes all.”

You eyed him curiously, wondering where he was going with this. You’d let him convince you to play strip poker and that was already pushing it. “What kind of bet?”

Soldier Boy couldn’t bite back his grin and you had a feeling where he was going with this. “How about I win, you let me fuck you,” he stated casually. You scoffed. Of course he couldn’t help himself. He fully registered the bored I’m over it expression on your face, yet continued anyway. “And if you win, you let me fuck you and I’ll thank you for the privilege.”

At that, you couldn’t help but laugh in his face. “What kind of deal is that?” Your voice was dripping with amusement. It was actually kinda funny, the level of audacity and shamelessness he had. “No thanks, buddy.”

You moved to stand and heard Soldier Boy curse under his breath. “Fine, fine,” he said loudly, regaining your attention. If you could read people the way you thought, he seemed kinda desperate. It was almost comical. Then, his tone shifted. “I heard you earlier,” he said seriously. It threw you off. “That supe you want dead. Not Homelander, the other one. Personal to you.”

Tek Knight… Why was he bringing up that bastard?

“Heard you trying to slip him onto the list for me to take out,” Soldier Boy continued knowingly. “But your boss won’t let you.”

“Butcher isn’t my boss,” you corrected. It was the wrong thing to focus on, so you did something that was probably going to be very unadvised in hindsight. You heard Soldier Boy out.

“Whatever. Because I like you,”—you raised your brows at that and muttered an uh huh to yourself, because you didn’t really believe him—“you win and I’ll take him out.”

He was groveling, but damn him for figuring out something you wanted. You hated Homelander and pretty much all supes just like the rest of the boys, but also, like they all did, you had a grudge against a certain supe. Tek Knight was the reason Butcher found you. Before he even brought in Hughie, he had found you. Because Tek Knight had killed someone you loved.

Que the tragic backstory, right? You all had one. At one point you had believed the superheroes were heroes. That is, until you saw Tek Knight recklessly kill a bus with civilians in it—one of which was your best friend. Vought covered it up, blamed the criminals he��d been chasing, and praised the supe for his heroism. Needless to say, that changed your preconceptions of superheroes. Not long later, Butcher found you and took you under his wing. You bonded over your desire to kill the so-called heroes that had taken someone from each of you.

Except, Butcher was so determined to kill Homelander after what happened to Becca with Ryan that your need for revenge had been set on that back burner. And now here Soldier Boy was, offering you the only thing you really, really wanted. All you had to do was bet your dignity.

Could be worse, right?

“You in?” Soldier Boy asked, bringing you out of your thoughts and back to the moment. He was already grinning, like he knew your answer.

You returned to where you had been sitting across from him previously and smothered any last doubts you had. “Yeah,” you replied curtly.

That cocky smile of his only grew—it was probably the happiest you’d seen the man. He had a nice smile, but you knew his joy was because of your weakness.

You had to win, even if it was only to watch him lose and wipe that stupidly dazzling smile off his stupidly good looking face.

You didn’t trust him to shuffle, so you did. The stakes were high and you could already see the bulge in his boxers when he stood and scooted his chair closer. He was eager and ready to play—and more. You didn’t want to give him the chance to rig the game. You made an effort to avert your eyes as you dealt the cards out.

The cards in your hand weren’t the best, but they were good enough. Hopefully.

Maybe he wouldn’t be thinking with his upstairs brain, he already seemed incredibly impatient, which could work in your favor. Although, that didn’t seem likely since there was no chance either of you would fold. You pushed all the inner back-and-forth thoughts out of your head and tried to focus on the game. You put on your poker face and just hoped he had a worse hand.

You didn’t say much as you played. Neither did he. You avoided eye contact while he threw you a few looks here and there. There was an intensity to the game that hadn’t been there before. Probably because both of you had a good reason to win. At least, a self perceived good reason on Soldier Boy’s part. You thought yours was much more valid.

The game neared the end and it was time to show.

The moment of truth.

“Two pair,” you said, showing the cards that you had.

Soldier Boy let out a breath, which made you wonder if he had been holding one in. That wasn’t a good sign. He laid down his cards. “Full house,” he revealed.

Well fuck. You lost.

“Damn,” you muttered, but it overlapped with his voice.

“Oh fuck yes.” He sounded a little bit too enthused for your liking. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “Take it as a compliment, sweetheart,” he commented smugly. “And don’t be a sore loser.”

“You sure got over Countess quick,” you mentioned in an off-handed tone just to mess with his head a little. “I thought you were still into her.”

He scoffed. “She was a bitch.”

“You called me a bitch earlier,” you pointed out.

“I call everyone a bitch.”

“You’re fucking confusing.”

“And you’re hot. I bet you’re a good fuck,” he countered with lascivious tone.

“You’re gross.” You were somehow still taken aback by his crassness even though you should’ve been used to it by now.

“What, you want me to tell you I’m into you?” He said it like it was offensive. “Like actually? Fine, I am. Big fucking deal,” he dismissed. “Now I won, get your ass over here. I’m not gonna fall for whatever mind games you’re playing.”

You could’ve told him no. You should’ve told him no right away. But damn, you couldn’t help but wonder. You couldn’t deny that Soldier Boy was attractive and from the view you got when he stood, you knew he was… large. Yeah, you should be saying no. What were you thinking?

Well, you were thinking you perhaps you did want to fuck him.

That was the truth even though it shouldn’t have been. You admitted that to yourself.

So, keeping with your end of the deal (because you planned to use the bet to justify all future actions to yourself), you stood from your chair. Soldier Boy was running his hands over his thighs when you moved towards him. He just couldn’t wait to touch you. He could hardly contain his excitement.

He pushed back from the table to make room. When you were within reach, his large, firm hands grabbed at you. Soldier Boy pulled you into his lap with a chuckle.

“Hi there,” you greeted in a sarcastic tone when you came face to face with him.

“Hey, darling,” he replied smoothly. Soldier Boy leaned in to kiss you, but you turned your head slightly. You weren’t sure why, you just did it. He scoffed a little, seemingly disappointed. “What—you’re not gonna let me kiss you?”

You eyed him curiously. “Why is that something you want?”

He shrugged a little. “I’m old fashioned.” He leaned in again and you didn’t turn away. “And it wasn’t a lie when I said I liked you,” he admitted under his breath before capturing your lips.

For a guy that hadn’t been in action for a few decades, Soldier Boy was a surprisingly good kisser. His lips were soft and plump, and moved expertly against yours.

When he pulled away, you were left slightly breathless. That seemed to fuel his ego because when he looked at you, a smirk appeared on his lips.

“Maybe we can both be winners,” Soldier Boy decided smugly. You became aware of his hand creeping along your hip. His fingers grazed your skin and then his hand made its way into the front of your underwear.

A spark of pleasure and even excitement shot through you when his thick fingers found what they were looking for.

Soldier Boy let out a deep, content hum when he brushed against your folds. You were already getting wet for him due to anticipation. He pressed one finger into your entrance and you bit back a gasp. Your body welcomed him, which made him chuckle.

You were waiting for some snarky comment, but at the moment he didn’t have one. Soldier Boy was far too focused on getting you ready for him to think of something. He rocked his hips, grinding his hard cock against your thigh as he pushed another finger into you. He moved them expertly, it should’ve been surprising how much care he was taking to elicit pleasure from you. However, you were far too distracted by the feeling of his thick fingers thrusting and curling inside of you to analyze him.

His thumb found your clit and you moaned, writing in his lap. Soldier Boy watched you, lips slightly parted, breaths heavy. His cock was achingly hard—you could feel it against you.

You felt a familiar knot in your belly form due to his motions.

“That’s it,” he said heatedly, feeling your walls begin to tighten around him. “You feel so fucking good. Can’t wait to be inside of you. Want you to come on my fingers first, though.”

His voice did something to you. You shouldn’t have liked it so much, but it was deep and rich and fuck, it was hot. As your eyes scanned his lust blown face, you saw something else. You couldn’t quite place it.

Your body tensed and as he perfectly moved his thumb and fingers in sync, you knew he was going to get what you wanted.

You fell against him when you started to quiver, the pleasure becoming all-consuming. Soldier Boy welcomed you against his firm body.

“For a girl that hates me you’re squeezing my fingers real fucking tight,” he grunted out against your ear.

Barely another second passed before your orgasm crashed over you in a wave. You pressed your lips together to conceal a dizzy moan, but it broke free.

You rode through the aftershocks on his fingers, catching your breath with your head on his shoulder.

When you finally came to your senses, his words rang in your head. “I don’t hate you,” you clarified in a murmur.

You sat up in his lap, head hazy with pleasure and trying to catch your breath, as he withdrew his hand from your underwear. Soldier Boy stared at you, scanning your face with an odd desperation you finally recognized. You meant it and he realized that.

You were yanked from your pleasured daze when his large hands gripped under your thighs.. In a swift motion, Soldier Boy lifted you. He stood as well and suddenly, you were lying with your back on the table, staring up at his lust blown emerald eyes.

His hands flew across your body, ridding you of your last pieces of clothing. Once you were exposed beneath him, Soldier Boy rid himself of his own clothes.

The two of you were completely naked, eyes scanning over each other's bodies. He pulled you to the end of the table and positioned himself between your legs.

Everything moved in an adrenaline filled blur.

There was very little time to prepare yourself as he planted a hand near your head and used the other to grab his cock. You briefly felt him line himself up to your entrance. Then, he was pushing into you. A gasping moan that surprised you both slipped from your lips as he filled you.

You had gotten a glimpse and knew he was big, but that had done nothing to prepare you for the stretch of his thick cock inside of you. There was a twinge of pain laced with the pleasure and it made you quiver around him.

A deep groan came from above. His eyes had fluttered shut. His hand slapped to grab your waist. His fingers flexed and dug into your skin.

“Fuck,” Soldier Boy cursed under his breath.

His cock throbbed inside of you and you could tell he needed a moment. You had to give him credit for maintaining some level of self control given how long it had been for him.

Except, you were getting impatient. In a bold move, you wrapped your legs around his waist encouragingly. Then, you raised your arms to grasp his face in your hands. You pulled him down into a passionate kiss, which he gladly responded to. He pulled back his hips a little, then thrust forward. You gasped against him and he smiled.

He straightened then, moving both hands to your hips. You braced yourself as he withdrew again, fully this time, then shoved forward.

It took a few experimental thrusts before he set a pace, but when he did you could do nothing but lay there and take everything he gave you.

You weren’t sure what you previously thought fucking him would be like, but damn it was good.

Soldier Boy knew what he was doing. He pounded into you hard and fast, forcing pleasure through your body. He was panting above you, then leaning down to press sloppy kisses to your body. His beard scratched against your skin, but you didn’t care. All you could focus on was his cock filling you.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Soldier Boy cursed and muttered the praise. His husky voice cascaded over you. You didn’t reply, but he seemed pleased with the fact that you couldn’t. You were doing everything in your power to not let out embarrassingly loud noises.

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, along with panting breaths from you both.

He brought his hand down and pressed his thumb against your clit. Soldier Boy flicked his eyes up to you, watching your face contort in further ecstasy.

He was fervorous, putting everything he had into fucking you. It was going to be quick, he couldn’t hold back much longer,, but he wanted you to come with him.

He kept up his motions, pounding into you, filling you over and over again.

You grasped at his back suddenly, digging your nails in as your body tensed and the knot in your belly exploded. Soldier Boy groaned loudly as your body tensed and shivered around him. You couldn't hold back your moan that time.

That sent him spiraling into his own release.

One, two, three—Soldier Boy slammed into you a final time. You felt his cock twitch. He shuttered above you. Then, he was spilling inside of you. You should’ve stopped him, but you wanted to feel him fill you up.

Soldier Boy let out a heavy exhale and practically collapsed on top of you. He nestled his head into your neck, nose brushing against your ear. The feel of his cock stuffing you full, his come dripping down your thigh, and the weight of his body was all consuming. You couldn’t deny that you loved the feeling.

You ran your hands across his muscular back, listening to his heavy breathing in your ear and his heart pounding from the exertion.

There were no words spoken between you two for several moments as you each caught your breath.

“I’ll take him out,” Soldier Boy muttered into your neck, catching you off guard. It took you a second to register his words, but when you did, you turned your head to look at him. Just in tandem with him to lift himself to hover over you. He planted his hands steady to hold himself up. Your noses were only a few inches apart and you could feel light puffs of breath coming from him against your face.

“What?” you couldn’t help but ask, stunned and wanting to be sure you heard him right.

“That supe you hate,” he clarified. “I’ll kill him for you.” Soldier Boy raised his hand and brushed a few strands of hair back from your face. “If that’s what you want.”

You swallowed. “Yeah,” you told him, nodding slightly. “I want you to.”

“Alright then,” he confirmed with uncharacteristically tranquil demeanor. Seeing a gentle, oddly caring smile instead of a sleazy smirk on his face threw you off.

You thought Soldier Boy was going to lean down to kiss you—he looked like he wanted to—but something caught his attention. He lifted his head towards the door.

That’s when you heard it. The door knob rattled..

A devious grin crossed Soldier Boy’s face. It suited him better than the previous expression.

“Oh shit,” you cursed, knowing what was about to happen and that you couldn’t prevent it.

You turned your head towards the door, just in time to see Butcher and Hughie walking back in.

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arazialotis · 5 months

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Get Him to the Con - Part 9

Pairing: Jensen × Reader

Word Count: About 6250

Summary: The reader stumbles into Jensen at her favorite bar, a very drunk Jensen. She soon realizes Jensen was booked for a con this weekend and has to be eight hours from town in only two.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Warnings: It's here, the smut, you made it. NSFW. 18+ Only!

Although this is an RPF, these are fabricated characters and should not reflect back IRL. I intend no hate or ill wishes to him or his family. This is purely just for writing and wasting my time as a coping skill. Maybe some of you will enjoy it too. I apologize in advance for any mistakes or grammatical/spelling errors. I appreciate any feedback or suggestions!

----

The pen tapped repeatedly on the desk. The words jumped off the page and taunted you in a menacing dance. Interpreting legalese to common speech was not your forte.

“What’s wrong?” Jensen asked, analyzing you from across the room.

You snapped your attention to him, “Nothing,” and quickly returned to the document.

“Somethings up.” He continued to press.

You didn’t look at him this time and continued to read. The desk groaned under his weight as he sat next to you. His thigh was inches away from your trembling hand. His knuckles turned white as he grasped the desk's edge. There was black ink of a rune on his index finger, but you didn't know the meaning. Two fingers began tapping it in rhythm with the pen while he waited. It was as if he was tempting you, rushing the process along. “Y/N,” Jensen took the pen from you, demanding your attention. “If you need to think things over, have your attorney review it; I understand.”

You couldn’t help but scoff and roll your eyes (like you had an attorney on standby). As distracting as he was, you wouldn’t let him stop you. You turned a page and kept reading.

“It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?” He nudged you with his knee and sighed when you didn’t continue. “Talk to me, Y/N.”

Finally, you gave up and leaned back in the chair, looking up at him into that forest of green. There was concern, like he thought you might be second-guessing everything.

"It's feeling all…" You gestured with your hands. "I don't know. Fifty shades?"

Your cheeks flushed, embarrassed the admission had come out so easily. You weren't trying to be difficult, really. It was just all unfamiliar. And this next page was just as confusing as the first. This wasn't the moment to skip over the terms and conditions despite the implied reward at the end. Though great enthusiasm was shared yesterday, sleep won over on the return journey. Jensen could only stir you to get you back up to the room. But that time had allowed for the preparations of more formal matters—ones you had to address before moving forward.

His thumb rubbed against his bottom lip. "If that's what you're into, I can have my legal team draft another contract within the hour."

Your eyes snapped back to him in shock, only to find his face painted with a shit-eating grin.

You weren't as amused. "Shut up," you said, swatting him with the piece of paper in your hand.

Jensen chuckled and pushed off the desk, pacing the room. About to sit on the bed, still a whirlwind of sheets and blankets, he questioned himself and went for the armchair in the corner.

“In all seriousness, there is nothing more to it than ensuring my privacy. As much as it sucks,” He muffled a laugh conveying his conflict, “I have an image to maintain, a narrative to portray. I know it’s not fair, but those closest to me have to help me carry that burden. In no way is this me not trusting you. It's just your promise to help keep my reputation steady. And you are equally protected, in case I’m secretly a complete asshole. If you need time, I couldn’t encourage it more.”

With a deep inhale, you mulled things over. You trusted him. Of that, you were certain. If what he said is true, there should be no concerns. Not reading further, you flipped to the last page. The pen scratched against the paper. As the ink cemented your agreement, you still couldn’t shake the feeling that you were signing over your freedom. And in some ways, you were. You were subjecting yourself to hold this weight with him. The world wouldn’t know him as you did. And you would only be able to share what he allowed. Or better said, what his PR team allowed.

“It’s done.” You brought it to him and dropped it in his lap.

He grabbed your wrist; his finger grazed over your forearm as if testing for a pulse.

“Thank you.” He whispered sincerely.

You pulled away. “I am going to freshen up and then find some decent coffee. This hotel stuff is shit.”

Jensen’s eyes followed you until you locked yourself in the bathroom. The spark remained, but he’d have to rekindle it for a flame. Although spending all day in bed sounded more than ideal, he wanted to repay you, truly show you his gratitude, but mostly work you back into the frenzy he saw you in last night. He went to arrange the file to send back to his team when he saw the date next to your name. It was for the night you first met.

---

“Not even two full days, but I missed ya baby!” You exclaimed as you rubbed the hood of Jensen’s rental.

“Don't you ever disgrace that name again,” He sternly scolded in response.

You only smirked and joined him in the car.

“So, seeing where the road takes us?” You asked.

Jensen plugged an address into the phone. It was a little unsettling after seeing him live the last few days with no plan at all.

“I have a couple of things up my sleeve.”

Step one: Obtain copious amounts of caffeine. You agreed on Starbucks. After days of diner and hotel coffee, you needed something consistent and predictable. Step two: Stroll the botanical gardens, test out holding hands, and stop frequently to admire the beauty and smell the flowers, but really use it as an excuse to lean in close together. Jensen’s touch often grazed over your shoulder, brushed your upper arm with the back of his knuckles, trailed down your lower back, and held onto the fabric of your shirt (pinching lightly enough you didn’t notice him tethered to you). Step three: Smile politely as you encounter fans, snap photos for them, and let him take the lead in answering their questions, keeping your responses as vague as possible. Word must have gotten out of his location. Step four: Escape the growing crowd.

Jensen turned the key and started the car. “Well, shit.” He said, defeated. “That was supposed to be all romantic and cute.” He started driving without a plan. “It was.” You assured. “Until it turned into a clusterfuck.”

You laughed, but Jensen was not amused.

“It’s okay.” You rubbed his hand on the gear stick. “We’ll find something…” You gasped and slapped your hand against his chest, sending Jensen into a near heart attack. “Oh my god, was that Voodoo’s?”

“Jesus!” Jensen swore, swerving to regain control of the car.

But you were oblivious to his panic, having turned a full one-eighty in your seat.

“Oh my god,” you repeated. “It totally is! Turn back around!” You instructed him, and when he didn’t immediately pull a U-turn, you came back to the front, practically shouting, “Turn around!”

It wasn’t the paperwork that morning or the stolen kisses or even yesterday’s panel that officially deemed you a couple. It was this: the first time he showed actual (not feigned) annoyance with you.

“What the hell is going on?” He demanded.

How had he not caught up yet? “Voodoo doughnuts!” you exclaimed. “It's been like forever since I had one. They’re not out by me!” “All this for overrated doughnuts?” Jensen huffed. “You scared the shit out of me.”

You scoffed in offense. “They are not overrated.”

“They most definitely are.” He argued.

“Jensen, please.” You whined in desperation.

His ear perked up, and the annoyance melted into fascination. That was a phrase he could get used to. Granted, this was not the context in which he first wanted to hear it. He made the mistake of looking at you, finding those same puppy-dog eyes Jared was so good at.

He sighed and gave in. “Fine, fine.”

Ten minutes later, Jensen was eating his words. Although he verbally stood by his previous statement, the tenacity with which he consumed not one but two doughnuts was all the confirmation that you needed to know you had won.

Strolling down Colfax, you found a few cute shops. Initially, you were only going to window shop until you passed a bookstore. You pulled Jensen in with the same urgency you expressed upon seeing Voodoo’s. Jensen simply watched as you pointed out all the books on your TBR and those with cute covers. He was wise in not suggesting procuring them as he knew you’d have to purchase a second suitcase for the return journey home. Instead, he asked questions, attempting to understand what appealed to your taste. He’d lick his lips, nod, rub his jaw, enthralled by how your eyes lit up, talking with vigor and passion. And truly, he was paying attention, but the logic of your preferences was not computing.

He checked his watch and eventually corraled you out with only one book in hand. But progress was lost once he spotted the record shop across the walkway. Now, it was his turn to drag you in. Initially, you started browsing together but wandered apart in search of your respective genres. For a moment, you became lost in time, searching through the miscellaneous “T’s” in the hunt for a favorite artist. An unsettling feeling that someone was watching you brought you back. The store wasn’t busy; two employees were sorting through new arrivals behind the counter, a younger guy sporting chunky headphones sampling a record on a turntable, and a few browsers. From across the store, you found the onlooker. Jensen was methodically observing your process. But his intense gaze melted into a warm smile that heated your heart, and he gave a bashful wave before looking through his stack of collections.

It was clear that your hunt would fail. You ambled closer to him and, from behind, wrapped your arms around his waist, peeking at the current selection he was sorting through. His free hand joined yours, wrapping you against him tighter.

“Oh, that’s a good one.” You pointed. “You should get it.”

Jensen flipped it over to see the list of tracks on the back and caught sight of his watch.

“Shoot,” He said, gathering all the records in his arms. “We gotta go.”

“What?” You asked, chasing after him.

Jensen plopped his records on the counter. “Hi, how are ya?” he said half-heartedly before addressing you, “We got stuff to do.” That didn’t clarify anything. You checked your phone for the time, wondering if it somehow hadn’t adjusted timezones. “We have dinner at 6?” But that was still several hours away.

He paid for his items and raised a brow at you. “It’s not dinner.” You squinted at him, trying to read behind his nonchalant expression and motives. “What exactly do you have in mind?”

He inhaled sharply, grabbed his bagged records, and headed out the door with you trailing behind. “It’s a surprise, " he finally disclosed.

You bit your lip, hoping for a steamy rendezvous back at the hotel, but despite your pestering, he would not divulge any further information. And if your sense of direction was correct, once you were back in the car, you were headed further away from the hotel, not toward it. In fact, it seemed like you were heading back to Golden. The possibilities ran through your head.

“You’re not taking me to the Coors Tour, are you?” You asked and then regretted the disdain in your voice in case that was what he had planned.

He huffed a laugh. “A pretentious snob such as yourself? Never.” And relief flooded you. “Though you are due for a private tour of Family Business.”

“I don’t know. I hear their ratings are inflated ‘cause they have a cute owner,” you teased.

“Smart-ass. And it’s co-owner.” He scoffed. “I’ll have to tell Liam to cool it with the charm. Need the beer to speak for itself.”

“Liam?” “My brother.” “Right, right.” You remembered. On the first leg of the journey, you both talked about family.

“It is the Family Business, after all.”

“True.” You agreed. “So, is the whole family involved?” “Liam the most; he’s the one brewing and creating new flavor profiles. Harper was more involved in the beginning with graphic design and marketing. Mom and Pop just hang around for free samples. Ingrid’s not really involved. She has always marched to her own beat.” He smiled fondly at the end as he turned off the highway. “We’ll have you meet Liam first. He’ll be the least overbearing and easiest to talk to.”

You gulped. You had come to peace in rushing the physical things. God, you wished that was what you were doing right now, but meeting the family? Even just talking about it sent a wave of uneasiness through you. There was a certain level of commitment necessary for that kind of step. It wasn’t that you were afraid of commitment, but you feared Jensen might be taking this too lightly, like a candle burning too hot. Or maybe it was because of your own family. Sure, he had talked some shit about his on the way here, but they seemed like the Rockwell Thanksgiving painting in comparison to yours. You weren’t sure you ever wanted your family to meet him. You’d always been more comfortable with your friends. They were more a family to you than blood. Your NDA was one thing; how did actual family or even friends play into that?

“Close your eyes,” Jensen instructed, thankfully pulling you out of your spiraling thoughts. You would take this one step at a time.

You did as he asked but did not hesitate to voice your opinion. “This feels weird.”

“Almost there."

You felt the car slow, felt the crunch of gravel underneath, and eventually halted to a stop.

“Can I open my eyes?” “Not yet.”

You heard him unbuckle his seatbelt and leave the car. A moment later, your car door creaked open. He undid your seatbelt, clasped your hands over your eyes, reinforced the no-peeking rule, and guided you blindly into position. He stood behind you, securing his hands over yours for extra security.

“Dr. Grant, welcome to Jurassic Park.” He gave his best John Hammond impersonation and uncovered your eyes.

You blinked away the bright sun and adjusted to the light, taking in your surroundings. Confused at first, you waited for your brain to catch up. Horribly painted dinosaur statues were scattered throughout the grassy patches of the dusty parking lot. Was that a stegasaurus painted as the American Flag? And the derpiest T-Rex in existence. Aside from the paper-mache dinosaur renditions, a small shed and outhouse were the only buildings in sight.

“Oh no," you laughed. “What in the roadside attraction hell is this place? Is this payback for the mystery spot?” He silently chuckled. “As much as I wish that it was, I did my research, and although this,” He waved at the general set up, “up there is a trail with actual fossils in the hills. We have a tour with a geologist in about five minutes.” His excitement dropped as he tried to read yours. “You hate it? It’s stupid, I…” “No! No.” You cut him off. “It’s. Well. When I pictured how our day would be spent,” You didn’t know how to put it lightly, and you were committed to being more forward with him anyway. “I thought we’d be fucking each other’s brains out, not… healing my inner child.”

Jensen inhaled, about to speak, but stopped. He started again, then mentally pictured the two of you entwined and blinked rapidly. He grabbed your hand and began dragging you back to the car. Your heels dug into the ground, and there was a mischievous smile on your face. “Oh, hell no. You brought me to see dinosaurs. The opportunity to shoot your shot has sadly faded, my friend. It’ll be a miracle if I ever leave these hills.”

His hand wound behind your neck, gripping it gently as his lips drew closer to yours. Your eyes fluttered shut, waiting for a kiss that never came. Jensen was so close that the tip of his nose was only a thread away from yours, yet you could still see the smug grin plastered on his face.

His voice was a low growl. “Are you as much of a brat in bed as you are in real life?” You nearly melted into a puddle, but his grip held you steady. It took a breath to regain your composure, but eventually, you matched his domineering presence. You inched your lips closer to his, hovering, and as you spoke, they brushed against each other.

Your whisper was as smooth as velvet. “I guess you’ll have to wait for our Vegas trip to find out.” You grazed your hand up his inner thigh, and as you tenderly squeezed your prize, you nipped at his bottom lip. As soon as it happened, you pulled away and patted his stunned cheek.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some extremely important matters to discuss with our new geologist friend.” You didn’t wait for him to respond and sauntered to the wooden outpost labeled museum. Jensen watched the sway of your hips as you grew further away. He shuddered as if casting off a chill and chased after you, knowing fully well he was leashed to you despite your distaste for the analogy.

---

You rushed back to the hotel, fearing you’d be late for dinner, but you insisted on freshening up from the sweat and dust of the hike. Maybe you could have axed some of the questions to save time, but you loved watching Jensen roll his eyes and meander onward as you debated nonsensical topics with the geologist. You burst into the hotel room, hoping you had enough time to scramble in at least a new coat of deodorant and fix your hair. Jensen trailed behind you, carrying the shopping bags and your crossbody.

“Why is your bag so heavy?” he called after you, setting it down with a thunk. Curiosity got the better of him, and he rifled through it, pulling out several rocks. He sighed. “What am I going to do with you?”

“What?” You feigned innocence as you rushed frantically around the room. “There were signs everywhere explicitly saying not to take any rocks.” He rubbed his forehead.

“I don’t know what you are talking about. I had those rocks with me before we went hiking.” You said as you applied a thin layer of lip gloss.

He fished through them. “Then tell me why this one so closely resembles the layer of volcanic ash.” You looked at the rock he held, and your smile resembled a grimace. “I plead the fifth? I only took three. None of them were actually fossils. I’m only a klepto when it comes to rocks. And not gift shop rocks, only rocks in their natural state.” He wasn’t buying any of your excuses. “They needed me. I rescued them. If they stayed on the trail, they would only be ground into gravel.” He sighed and set the rock down. “How many more crimes do you plan on committing this trip?”

Your grimace turned up, and your tongue peaked out between your teeth. “I think I have room for a few more.”

“I keep forgetting to run your background check. And now I am going to need three character references as well.” He said so sternly you couldn’t tell if it was his dry humor or seriousness.

You pursed your lips together and crept to him. He eyed your path, unmoving as you grabbed the collar of his shirt. “Will this suffice?”

You drew his lips to yours, meeting with a harsh need. He mirrored your hunger, the lip gloss gliding his lips against yours, its faint taste of sweet berries dancing on his tongue. You pressed further into him as you arched your body against his.

He broke the kiss with a warning whisper: “Don’t think you can bribe your way out of this.”

But his lips eagerly sought out the pulse of your neck. His hands wandered under your shirt, fiddling with the clasp of your bra as yours untucked his shirt and went for the button of his jeans. His eyes shot to the red lights of the alarm clock, and he pulled away.

“After dinner, " he promised, settling his grip on your shoulders, keeping you at arm's length.

You looked back at the clock and returned with a new glint in your eyes. You began pulling your hair back.

“Give me two minutes.” You instructed.

Jensen’s eyes followed you as you sank to the ground, rolling them back as you went for his zipper.

----

The restaurant was bustling with chatter and laughter. You sat next to Jensen at a long table hosting cast and crew still around from the weekend. You were trapped in the booth side but unpanicked as Jensen leaned against the back, his arm wrapped around your shoulder. Jared, along with a few others, had caught a flight back earlier this afternoon, and you couldn’t help but wonder if that had also relieved some of the anxiety. Regardless, you played with the straw wrapper underneath the table.

Rob, to his left, squinted, observing a change he couldn’t quite place. “I think this is the most at ease I’ve seen you in six months.”

You exhaled through puffed cheeks and returned to the menu, trying to conceal your blush, knowing exactly what had caused Jensen’s newfound relaxed state.

Jensen cleared his throat and adjusted the seam of his pants while attempting to channel his default rigid demeanor. “Oh, you know what they say about the mountain air.” “Higher elevation,” Misha commented from across the table. “Hearts beat faster to increase blood flow due to the lack of oxygen. Don’t overdo the physical activity, you two; it could lead to altitude sickness.”

You buried your head further into the menu.

Jensen stared at Misha, unblinking. “Why are you the way you are?”

“What?” Misha defended himself. “You said you went hiking earlier. Oh,” he finally got it and giggled. “That’s why you’ve been so late to everything this whole weekend.”

You muttered a curse into the menu.

Carla, a crew member sitting to your right, continued the teasing with a chirp. “And why you’re so relaxed.” She then turned her attention to you, forcing you back into the conversation. “You are coming back to Vancouver with us, right? He’s been an absolute bear on set.” “I have not!” He whined. “No, he has,” Misha agreed. “He’s always been a bear! You need to come with us.” “I’m the bear?” He grumbled. “What about the time…” You cut him off. “I do have a job, unfortunately, and responsibilities. Jensen, honey, you need to play nice with your friends at work. No more pranks on poor Misha.” “Thank you!” Misha exclaimed. But your teasing earned you a pinch to the side.

“Okay, but seriously.” Rob stuttered sheepishly. “Maybe you could arrange to come up once a month for like a long weekend or something?”

“I’m not that bad.” Jensen strained. “Kim, back me up.”

She chewed on an appetizer and tilted her head back and forth, weighing a response. “They’re just teasing you. You’re a sensitive kind of guy. As with all of us, sometimes those emotions bleed onto the set.” “I can’t believe what I’m hearing.” He muttered. But you gasped. “It’s ‘cause he’s a Pisces! He can’t help it. If he’s grumpy, give him space to process all those emotions swimming up around there, and he’ll come back on his own time to talk things over.”

“That is enough out of you.” He warned.

But it was too late. The table had dived fully into the realm of zodiac signs, guessing each other’s and looking up horoscopes.

Bri, next to Kim, read Pisces’ out loud, “After a season of trials, matters of the heart this week become effortless. Spend time on your current connection, enhancing and empowering the relationship, as your partner is truly worth the effort. As Venus moves into your 8th house, intimacy has the potential to be more blissful than ever before.”

“If there was ever a signal to get off third base and slide into home.” You commented, feeling a little more comfortable with the group and earned a round of chuckles.

“Excuse me!” Jensen's voice cracked as he called over the laughter and giggles. He raised his hand, getting the server’s attention. “Can we place our orders? Thank you!”

---

You entered the hotel room one last time, and finally, this time, nothing in front of you but the promise of tomorrow—no more group outings, no more road trip side shows, and definitely no more hiking.

It wasn’t how you pictured it, how either of you pictured it. It was neither frenzied nor rushed. There wasn’t an all-consuming hunger that overtook you or a restless panic that would cease only if you became entwined. It was slow. Perhaps because you had the whole night ahead or more likely because of the favor you had pulled early. But more than that. It was because you wanted to fully savor every moment, lock it to memory, knowing this first embrace of passion could never be replicated.

Jensen held your hand as he led you through the room. At the edge of the bed, he repeatedly brushed your knuckles against his lips, searching your eyes, forming an unspoken agreement, ensuring your desires had not changed. The bed springs groaned as he sat down, pulling you down to straddle his lap. You held his jaw in your hands, tracing small circles through his stubble with your thumbs. Each of you studied the other, memorizing the small details of freckles and wrinkles and colors as an artist would their subject.

You softly pressed your lips against his, noses grazing as you did, and waited, watching. At first, he matched your stillness but was the first to break. His lips guided tenderly against yours before pressing further into you. The ambient sounds of the hotel surrounded you as you wove fingers through hair: the siren of an ambulance, the padding of feet in the hallway, the muffled voices from adjoining rooms.

Jensen’s hands danced along the hem of your shirt. A shiver ran through your body as the cool metal of a ring claimed the warmth of your skin. His hands kneaded against soft flesh and muscle as they mapped the shape of you. With one hand braced between your shoulder blades and the other gripping your hip, he flipped you onto your back. His hips dug into yours as his lips nursed that sensitive spot on your neck. You arched your chest into his and moaned.

“Fuck, this is actually happening, isn’t it?” You gasped.

Jensen gave a sultry chuckle and trailed his lips down your collarbone. You couldn’t deny you had dreamed of this moment for so long- since before you even knew him. And now it was here, actually here. A dull ache formed at your core. Your brave, sarcastic, bratty facade shed as you let him glimpse everything you truly were.

“Jensen,” You called for him, abandoning the avoidance of haste. “Please.”

It took every ounce of his willpower to maintain the tranquil pace as you begged for him. But eventually, he gave in, overcome by his own need. Jensen sat up, pulling you up with him, and in the same motion, fully removed your shirt and bra, already loose from a move moments earlier Dean Winchester himself would have been proud of.

“Fuck, Y/N.” He looked down at you as you displayed yourself proudly.

Propped up on your elbows, you swayed teasingly side to side and loved how words and thoughts melted from his mind. But your arrogance shattered as he met your assessing gaze with a darkness, a greed you had never seen on him before. You sank back to the mattress, and he followed as if there was a magnetic pull. A hand snaked from your waist, along your ribs, and stopped just underneath, his thumb nearly grazing the prize he sought so desperately. Silently, he searched for permission before continuing his pursuit.

“Gods, Jensen.” You grew impatient and grabbed his face, pulling him down to meet your breasts.

With one hand kneading, the other held you steady as his head nuzzled against the soft flesh. He rubbed against your nipple, and you bowed further into him, encouraging, manifesting more. His lips grazed against your hard peak before taking it fully into his mouth, whining as he did from the taste of you. As the ache in your core grew, your incoherent praises began to drown out the world around you. The sensation of his tongue, and teeth, and calloused thumb was overwhelming, and pressure began to build.

“Jensen, please.” You begged again, somehow forming words, already chasing release. “I need you.”

He paused, coming up for air, his hand sliding down to your hip as he did. It was too far apart. You needed him; you needed him to be glued to every inch of you, to know you fully. You grabbed his hand and brought it back up, but he remained unfazed, calculating his next move.

“Come here,” He instructed and rolled to his side.

You whimpered in protest as the heat and closeness of him retreated. But he quickly amended as he drew you closer, one arm sliding beneath your back. Both hands went for your jeans, and you eagerly helped undo their constraint, shimmying out of them. And just like that, you presented yourself fully. There were no barriers, nothing in between, nothing that separated you. You could feel his gaze rake your body as if it were his fingers caressing every inch. He inhaled sharply before meeting your eyes and kissed you deeply.

“Beautiful.” He whispered between breaths. “So fucking beautiful.”

Even though his arm was pinned behind your back, he adjusted his hold of you so his hand could become reacquainted with your breast. With his free hand, he took yours and parted from your lips.

“Show me.” He instructed.

Your eyes never left each other’s as you guided him down to your center until the brashness of his strong fingers clashed against your soft core. Your eyes rolled back upon the impact. But the relief was short-lived as his hand remained limp.

“Show me.” He reminded you, his lips whispering against your ear.

Your hand hovered delicately over his as you governed his movements to heighten the sensation. He carefully studied every movement, every circle, every reaction, every sound that escaped with your breath. His movements became his own as he practiced the patterns until he found the same reactions as before. Then he took control and dipped two fingers into your core. Lightly at first, testing the entrance and then altogether plunging into your very center. You helped instruct the pace, but he placed yours back over your clit, taking the lead. Together, you worked yourself inside and out. Your whimpers grew into a slew of fractured curses.

“You’re close?” He asked, taking your nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“Fuck,” You whined.

His pace built, and his lips danced along your hair, breathing in your scent.

“Let go.” He kissed your temple.

“Jensen.” You cried, barely able to withstand the heated intensity.

“Come on, Y/N.” He refused to cease. “Show me.”

You shattered, shuttering into his cradle as you rode through the release of surging waves. Both of you panted, attempting to settle your racing hearts.

“So fucking beautiful.” He repeated, kissing you once again.

The rough denim of his jeans scraped against your thigh as he popped the button free, and a new fever overtook you. It was not enough. You needed more. You needed all of him. You hooked your leg under his and flipped him to his back. His eyes were wide, and his hands held up in surrender from the surprise as you quickly removed what separated you from him. Once free, your lips hovered over his hard length, your nails grazed against the tufts of hair but denied him touch.

Already cognizant of what your mouth could do, he wanted to familiarize himself with other parts of you. He pulled you up so your hips were flush with his. You took the tip of his shaft in your hand and rolled, wettening him with his own precum. His head sank deeper into the pillows as he groaned for more. You took him between your folds, grinding his length against your clit, stoking the embers back to flame. Jensen lifted his head and watched, utterly at your mercy. Gods, he had already gotten off early today, but just by the sight of you, he feared he wouldn’t last long.

As you continued your pace, he reached for the nightstand, digging through the bag you prudently acquired last night. He fumbled with the box, trying to get a grasp on the edge, but was having difficulty concentrating as you drew closer and closer to climax. If he didn’t hurry, he was going to spill before he was even inside you.

The box slipped from his hands. “Dammit,” He chuckled, defeated.

You slowed, chuckling with him, and stopped altogether, assisting him with the box. It gave him a chance to regain his composure, although he knew he’d lose it entirely in seconds. You rolled the condom over him, lined him to your entrance, and paused. His eyes snapped to yours, a grin brightened his face, and he nodded.

You lowered down onto him, weaving yourselves together. You tested the waters slowly at first, but after you adjusted, drove into a claiming rhythm. He gasped and gripped your hips, controlling your movements and slowing your relentless pace. He wanted this moment to last. He never wanted it to end. You fought against him, desperate for another high.

“Y/N,” He cried. “For fuck’s sake.”

It was both too much and not enough. He needed more, to be closer, to feel your chest against his, to remove the space that separated you. There was no gentleness this time as he braced you and sharply flipped you. His weight deliciously trapping you. The sculpted edges of muscle confined your soft and delicate features as if you could be molded together. You squirmed for movement, for friction, for anything to provide you relief. But he just watched.

“Please,” you moaned. “Fuck me. I need you to fuck me.”

“Shh.” He hushed you, but it only drove you more feral.

His thumb rolled against your lower lip. Needing pressure, you sought your own help, trying to wedge your hand between your bodies. But he grabbed both your wrists, pinning them above your head. He waited until you settled, until the hysteria dissipated, and he held your full attention. Then and only then, when you looked him calmly in the eye, did he thrust as if he wanted you to be aware every moment who was fucking you. His speed increased, and you cried in ecstasy as he bore into you again and again.

“Jensen, oh god,” You gasped.

You ripped your wrists from his hold and griped his shoulders, nails digging in as he tested the new angle. He grabbed the back of your neck, pressing your mouth to his, his tongue sliding in to meet yours, consuming the sounds of carnal worship. Your bodies locked together, the coils of springs knotting tighter and tighter.

“Y/N,” Jensen called again, his voice an octave higher.

He couldn’t hold on much longer. He freed a hand to meet your apex once more and, with an expert’s touch, mirrored the movements he had learned only moments before.

“Come for me, sweetheart.” He encouraged through strained teeth, fighting his own release.

Quickly, he pried his hand from you, positioning your leg so your knee was held up by his forearm. It was too much to handle; deeper, harsher than before, electricity being sparked again and again at an unyielding pace. And when his hand returned, circling, you unraveled beneath his touch.

“Fuck,” he grunted not far behind and collapsed on top of you.

---

“This is stupid,” You said, refusing to meet his gaze.

It was already well into the morning as you stood by your second rental car, prolonging the inevitable by every minute possible. The hotel loomed overhead. A few fans, cast members, and crew remained, but the excitement of the weekend had dwindled. And both of you had places to be. Jensen to a flight in three hours back to Vancouver, and you back to your job who was all too willing to agree to some last-minute PTO but most likely would not be as grateful if you extended it any further.

“What’s stupid?” Jensen asked.

He took your chin in his grasp and tilted your head to meet his gaze. Concern grew across his face as a stray tear trickled down. He wiped it away with his thumb.

“I’m three for three on leaving you at a hotel and crying as I do.” You shamefully admitted.

He embraced you, tucking your head protectively under his chin. “It’ll get easier. I promise.”

Dating your celebrity crush was new to you, but what terrified you the most was being new to a long-distance relationship. You nodded but still were not fully convinced.

---

TAGS:

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#supernatural #spn #spn fandom #spn fanfic #jensen ackles #jensen x reader #jensen x you #jensen x y/n #nsfw

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