Pessimist

26 - Last 𖤓

We headed back to the cabin, walking hand in hand when as soon as we opened the door, everyone stood up to look at us. I hid behind Dean, hand still clutched in his making his arm move back to accommodate my new position.

"Well..." Alex said, breaking the silence. "That was fast."

Dean only sighed, shaking his head as he led me up the stairs. My blush deepened, looking back at Alex as she sent me a look making me send her one back. They seemed to be watching a movie, all gathering up on the couches again while snacks littered around them.

"Dean," I called out, walking up the stairs behind him. My other hand pressed to my stomach, trying to contain this warm feeling inside. "Are we going to sleep?"

He looked back at me, tilting his head. "Do you want to sleep?"

We made it to the top, standing in front of our room when I made the first move to walk in, him following behind and locking the bedroom door.

"I was actually hoping we could talk some more. Maybe makeout on the side?"

I expected him to look serious when I glanced back at him and instead, was met with need. I froze, my body tingling as I stepped towards him and placed my hands on his shoulders to lift myself up. My mouth brushed his as his hands came to sit on my hips, wide and spread, fingers so close to where I wanted him most.

"Or we can just makeout." I whispered, connecting our lips. He gasped slightly, pulling me closer as we rerouted ourselves to the bed. I pushed him down, climbing on top of him as his back rested against the headboard.

"I missed you." He says making me press into him more.

"Show me."

He moans into the air, the sound low and appreciative as I nip at his neck. My hands are busy roaming his chest, digging under his shirt to touch skin. He's hard against my core, my hips involuntarily rolling to gain friction and pleasure.

"Dean," I gasp out, once one of his hands threads in my hair, yanking me so I was kissing him again. "Will you let me make you feel good? Please?"

"I feel good right now." He replies. "Having you so pretty on top of me."

"Then let me make you feel great."

He looks into my eyes, lips lifting the corners of his mouth in a small smirk. "Our first fight was only hours ago."

"Let's call this a makeup session."

One eyebrow raises in question, the hand that isn't in my hair now cupping my throat as his fingers strum the sides so softly it makes me shudder. "You're so responsive," he says low, eyes trained on my body. I feel hot and cold all over, gripping onto his shoulders for mercy. "I bet I could make you come without even touching you."

God, I think, breathing growing heavy. My hips move on its own accord and he shakes his head, almost like he's disappointed in my lack of patience.

"Can't wait a single moment without needing something, huh baby? You need to get a hold of yourself or I may end this sooner than you want."

"Dean," I'm breathless, on the edge of combusting. "I need it."

"And those manners..." he continues, ignoring me. "Never a please or thank you. It's like you want me to edge you." He pauses, a new glint in his eyes. "Maybe that's what I'll do, edge you until you desperately need it."

I shake my head, not wanting to wait any longer but it looks like he's made his mind, smoothing down my hair in a soft way. "You remember your safe word, sweetheart?"

I nod, making him let out a low laugh. "You can talk, baby. Tell me you understand."

"I understand." I squirm in his lap, and he finally has enough of me and sits up, easily switching our positions.