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Dean’s evasive skills had been honed from years of hunting the ugliest that go bump in the night and even more years of avoiding attention from the police. It wasn’t even the faint sound of footsteps that triggered the feeling of threat, it was that sixth sense all hunters seem to be born with. Dean rushed down a nearby alley, removing his pistol from the back of his waistband, removing the safety. If Sam was with him, he’d signal him to go round and distract, and the Dean would surprise them from behind but tonight he was on his own. He moved quickly and quietly, cutting down another alley and sure enough those soft footsteps continued to follow.
Dean headed back towards where he came from, circling around, sprinting, and coming up behind the lone person who had been following him for the last twenty minutes from his hotel. A woman, blond hair tied back, 5’4, she couldn’t be more than 120 pounds.
He snagged her wrist and twisted it high behind her back at the same time as he pushed her face hard against the brick wall. She grunted loudly, and went straight into the offence with a strong back kick, which thankfully Dean avoided otherwise it would have caused damage. In his haste to twist away from her boot, his grip loosened, which she took to her advantage and managed to push hard enough with all the force she could muster. It didn’t seem to work though, Dean held tightly to her wrist and pinning it against the wall. She threw her other hand against his chest, pushing hard.
“Jo?” Dean’s grip on her loosening.
“Dean? God, you scared the crap out of me.” She swallowed.
Dean slipped his gun into the back of his jeans, coming forward to hold her her against the wall with one wrist pinned above her head. He took her other hand and added it to her first, cuffing both with his much larger hand. He was aware as a trained hunter, she could do him damage. Working at the roadhouse as a pretty twenty something would have been akin to defensive training at Quantico, but she didn’t push back.
“What are you doing here?” Dean asked.
“Sweetheart if this is the way you get girls into your bed, you’ve got a lot to work on.” She tried to mock but Dean wasn’t buying it especially with the pulse at the base of her throat beating erratically and the strain in her voice.
“Jo, how long have you been following me? Why are you in town?”
Dean watched as her jaw clenched, defiant eyes meeting his. “Why are you out so late without backup?” she deflected, “Where’s Sam?”
He frowned down at her, “Without backup? Sweetheart I’m a big boy, I can hunt on my own.” He wasn’t about to reveal any details about the demon he was hunting or the lair it could be at. He wouldn’t be the reason she gets hurt. “Why are you alone?” Dean asked, tightening his grip on her wrists, and ignoring the feeling of her body brushing against his. “Do you know how dangerous that is?”
“I’m a big girl Dean, I can hunt on my own.” Jo bit out.
“Yeah, and you have no business doing that. I could have killed you.” Dean huffed.
“Let go of me.” She jerked against his hold, sending a shimmer of lust down his body. He ignored it.
“What are you hunting?” he asked.
She tried to shrug, which just succeeded in pushing her breasts against his chest and short-circuiting his brain. The fact she was here, in Arizona on her own gave Dean pause. Was she here with someone? Her allusiveness drove him crazy.
“What are you hunting?” she counteracted.
“None of your business.”
“Where’s Sam?” she asked.
“None of your business.”
Uncertainty flashed in her eyes as if whipped and then the stubbornness Dean had grown accustomed to, returned. “Well, Dean, it’s been thrilling. But I’m going to go now.” she growled, pulling her hands from his hold.
“You mean let you go so you can hunt on your own? Get yourself killed?”
Her expression faltered and she shivered beneath him. Dean questioned if she was cold, she didn’t look cold. “You know, you didn’t need to scare me,” she huffed.
He slapped a hand between them, caging her in. He wasn’t letting her go without making sure she knew she had no place on a hunt. “Call it intuition, I felt someone following me. But time for you to go home Jo.”
“Hm, I need to work on my tracking skills,” Jo pondered, looking back up at him with a smile that told him she absolutely wouldn’t be going home.
The push pull of the past few months levelled them.
That spark of awareness flashed between them, the one that never really goes away no matter the distance between them. “Part of me hoped you’d get yourself into trouble so I could kick your ass.”
Dean looked into her eyes becoming aware he still had Jo’s body between his and the wall. His body pressed firmly against hers, his hands against either side of her waist palms against the wall. Her breath was choppy. Anger and annoyance had morphed into physical awareness and a desire that seemed to simmer under the surface.
Call it crazy but Dean dipped his head, capturing her lips and she opened her mouth with a whimper. It was like diving into a temptation he wasn’t ready for. Heat and pleasure flared between them and made the iciness of the night, the dirtiness of the alley and the bleak reality of the hunt all disappear.
Jo’s body rose to meet his and he dove deeper, tangling his tongue with hers feeling the fever of her response. His hands move back to her wrists, placing them above her head again and clamping them both with one. He moved his other down her body, unbuttoning her flannelette and smoothing his hands against her taut stomach. He moved his hand up her body reaching to cup those perfect breasts.
Lace scaped his palm, lace he was not expecting and God he was rock hard. He found her nipple through the material, rolling the little nub between his fingers. He felt her gasp against his lips and her knees give out. He slipped his thigh between hers, then released her mouth and moved his fingers against her stomach, holding her gaze and still not letting go of her wrists. There was something forbidden about this, as if at any moment Ellen Harvelle was going to come around that corner and kick his ass.
He pulled her flannelette open, and his mouth went dry. White lingerie offered her breasts up to his gaze. He dragged down the lacy edge to expose one cherry tip. “If I knew this was going to happen, I would have worn red.” Her voice held an edge of apology. “You’re kidding right?” Dean asked, bending down, and taking a nipple into his mouth and felt her knees buckle again. He let go of her wrists and hitched her up.
She wrapped her legs around his waist.
“So pretty.”
He feasted on her breasts, showing exactly what she did to him. Her fingers sank into his hair holding him to her breast and then tugging him back so her lips could find his. He pinned her harder against the wall, rubbing against her centre. She whimpered, the sound passing between them like a caress.
This was nuts. The timing was off, the place was off but after the hell of the last few days he wanted to experience something that had nothing to do with death or deals or demons. He lowered her back down to her feet and undid the button on her jeans. Eased down her zipper. He held her gaze the entire time but saw no objection. It wasn’t clever and there wasn’t really any finesse in terms of warm up. He slid one finger inside her and she squeezed him, gasping with pleasure. He added another, sliding them in and out, finding the spot that had her eyes closing and her arms shaking as she held onto him.
“God you’re wet.”
She made a sound that was a cross between a plea and a moan.
He curled his two fingers inside of her and leaned forward to kiss the side of her lips, wanting to see her face when she reached the peak. He cupped his palm over her mound, used his thigh to press his hand deeper inside her.
“Oh god,” her breath was choppy and her voice shook.
“I’ll go by Dean,” he scraped his teeth over her ear lobe.
“Shut-“
He swallowed her moan, dragging out her orgasm until she collapsed limply against him. Dean had to hold himself still, controlling his own breathing while his heartbeat slowed, and blood moved to other parts of his body. Then he gently put her back together, pulling her zipper up and buttoning her pants and doing her flannel up. He kept his eyes locked on hers the entire time before backing away a step.
She frowned, “That was intense.”
“It always is with us.” He laughed.
She watched him for a long moment, trying to read his thoughts. “Dean, don’t make this a big deal.”
Except it was a big deal because he only has 8 months to live.