𝗪𝗜𝗧𝗖𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗛𝗢𝗨𝗥 , supernatural

[28] truth be told

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT ; TRUTH BE TOLD
sexual content warning
———

DEAN RUMMAGED THROUGH HIS POCKETS, searching for the motel key as he stood outside the locked door. Dean knew he had it, but because the universe had something against him—he was stuck in his god damn pants. Of course it happened when he was in rush to get inside, not because something was after him or because he was tired. It was because behind him was a beautiful, incredible woman who was waiting ever so patiently.

That woman's soft laugh could be heard, followed by her wild hands creeping around his torso and wrapping around him. It was late in the night, so when Dean looked over his shoulder at her—her face was lit up only by the light hanging above the door. Somehow making her green eyes brighter, and making her hair appear as blood red. Dean paused his actions as he looked at her, almost in a trance of the sight of her.

Selene was now standing on her tiptoes as she leans up and presses her lips against Dean, what was only meant to be a simple peck—quickly turned into a heated kiss. Dean takes his hand from his pocket and brings it up to her cheek, he didn't care that his head was turned. The taste of her lips, the sweet taste of strawberry chapstick filled his taste buds as he savoured it.

It was so enticing, that it distracted Dean from the present issues—that they were standing in the cold night air that brushed against their skin. It was distracted Dean from the sneaky hands of his girlfriend, who stuck her hand into his pocket unnoticed and gracefully pulled out the key.

As she pulled her lips away from Deans, he opened his eyes to come face to face with the key. Making his eyes go wide for a minute, while he looked at her proud grin. Dean snatched the key away from her, and quickly focused back on the task at hand. Unlocking the door and basically taking it off its hinges at how fast he stepped inside, reaching behind him and grabbed Selene's wrist and pulling her inside after him.

The second they were both enclosed in the private room, because they are finally starting to get their own room separate from Sam, Dean wasted no time. Practically throwing Selene against the door, making her body be the one that closed it. Selene smirked as Dean grabbed her wrist and pinned her hands above her head, his grip with one hand was tight around her wrists—but in the best way.

Dean dived back into the kiss, this time letting his hungry and need for her taste to take over him. This kiss was sloppy and desperate, as if Dean was dying man in desperate need for air and that air was Selene.

With his free hand, Dean moved it up and under her shirt and grabbed her breast tenderly. His hand fitting around it as if it was made for his hand, but he knows that she wasn't made for him—he was made for her.

In these moments, when their lips connected and their touch was electric, Dean felt like this was his way of live. She was his religion, his beliefs, desire and passion. This was the only place on earth that Dean felt he was vulnerable and was the proudest man alive, that was all because of Selene. All because of their love.

Dean trailed his hand from Selene's wrists down her arms, gripping at her skin in need to feel it all. Then he brought his hands down to her bottom of her shirt, and pulled his lips away in order to lift up her shirt, taking it off entirely. Selene quickly did the same thing, grabbed Dean's shirt and forcing it off of him as if the article of clothing was offending her.

When they were both topless, Dean attached his lips to her collarbone. Planting a trail of tender kisses along it, trialing up her neck to her jaw. While he did this, Selene tilted her head back, pressing it into to wooden door to give him all the access to her and her sensitive skin.