Written by: gooberlanes13

Edited by: KariGorsuch

"Eve!" Bri's voice cut throught the trees, sharp and desperate, but it barely registered through the chaos in my mind. Everything was a blur- my own body felt foreign, like it was moving on its own, mirroring the pulsing in my skull. The world around me twisted, the sounds and images morphing together in a way that made my stomach churn. "Goddammit Eve!"

I tripped over a root, my foot catching hard enough to send me stumbling forward. My hands shot out just in time to brace against the rough bark of a tree before I faceplanted. My palms burned against the surface, shaking, fever hot. I looked down at them, frowinging as they trembled uncontrollably.

A twig snapped behind me. My head jerked up, and through the dense trees, I saw her- Bri, moving fast, her expression town between frustration and worry.

"Fuck..." I muttered under my breath, but it came out in a whimper.

My entire body screamed at me to run- to fight- to do something that would make the feeling stop. But the moment my brain third to latch onto a solution, the only answer that surfaced was violence.

Violence on Bri.

I squeezed my eyes shut, shaking my head against the instinct, focing myself to move. I shoved through a thick briar bush, not caring when the thorns scraped against my arms. The moment I broke through to the other side, my foot caught on nothing but air, and I went down hard, my face slamming into the mud.

The cold, damp earth pressed against my cheek, grounding me for only a second before the pounding in my head surged again. I pushed up onto my hands, gasping, before my arms buckled. My knees hit the ground, my body curling inwards as if it were trying to crush itself.

A heartbeat.

Loud. Steady. Pounding in my ears like war drum.

I curled forward, my hands flying to my head as I let out a deep, strangled grunt, rocking back and forth on my knees. The movement sent painful jolts up my legs, but I barely registered it over the sound- the never-ending, suffocating sound of blood.

Flashes of red.

Dean's hand, split open.

The thick coppery tang of it thick in the air.

The heartbeat pounded louder.

I clamped my hands over my hears, pressing down with everything I had, but it didn't do a damn thing. It only got stronger, each pulse sending another surge of pain through my skull. My breath came in short, sharp bursts.

I couldn't escape it.

I opened my mouth and screamed- raw, guttural, a sound that tore through my throat like it was trying ti rip itself free. My vocal cords strained, the pain stretching from my chest to my face as pure agony twisted through me.

"FUCK!"

The word ripped out of me, echoing through the trees.

"Eve," Bri's voice cut throught the ringing in my ears, steady but laced with caution. She had made her way around the briar bush instead of forcing herself through it, her approach slow and deliberate. "There you are. Are you alright?"

I heaved, my breath ragged as I tried—and failed—to steady myself.

"Was that you that screamed?" she asked, stepping forward. A twig snapped under her boot, and I flinched.

"Don't." The word came out harsher than I intended, my body tensing. "Bri, for the love of fuck—don't come any closer."

"Eve—"

"Bri." My voice was sharp, final.

A heavy silence stretched between us, a standoff in the middle of the clearing. My nerves were still shot, the heartbeat still there—pounding, relentless—but I shoved it back as much as I could. With effort, I pushed myself up from the cold ground, my limbs trembling as I forced them to cooperate.

When I finally turned to face Bri, she took a step back, eyes locked on me with something close to fear. Sunlight broke through the canopy above, streaking past the damp branches and cutting through the eerie glow that had settled over the forest. The clearing, once suffocating in its darkness, now stood exposed.

"What—" Bri started, squinting as she took another step forward. "What's going on, Eve?"

"I said not another step." I growled, pointing at her boot as she deliberately ignored the warning.

"Bri, I'm warning you."

That was when I finally caught sight of her face.

Terror.

Pure, unmistakable terror.

My stomach twisted. "What?" I asked, glancing down at my ruined outfit. "I know it's a little dirty, but—"

"No." Bri shook her head, pointing at me with one hand while the other hovered near her holster.

The movement was subtle—instinctual, even—but it sent a sharp spike of adrenaline through me.

I raised my eyebrows. "Bri... what the hell?"

She smirked, but there was no humor in it. Just tension. "What the hell, yourself?"

"What?" I frowned, the pulse of aggression inside me flickering out, replaced by something colder—confusion. Bri wasn't just scared; she looked shaken. "Do I have something in my teeth?"

"It is your teeth!" Bri almost shouted, suddenly closing the gap between us. She grabbed my hands, yanking them away from my mouth before I could investigate further. "You have fangs, Eve!"

"What?!" I squeaked, ripping my hands free and immediately shoving my fingers back into my mouth. Sure enough, my canines were sharper—longer.

Panic surged through me. "What the hell—Bri, what do I do?"

Bri looked just as lost as I felt, eyes darting wildly between my face and the woods. Then we both froze as a voice echoed in the distance.

"Bri, did you find her?!"

Sam's voice bounced between the trees, followed closely by another—louder, rougher.

"Bri! Eve—!" Dean. His voice sent a jolt of fear straight through my chest.

"Shit." Bri spun on her heel, facing the direction of Bobby's house. The crunch of boots against dead leaves and snapping twigs grew louder, closer.

She turned back to me, eyes wide. "I have no fucking clue what they're gonna do if they see this." She gestured to all of me, as if my entire existence had become a problem that needed solving.

I didn't argue. Because she was right.

A heavy beat of silence passed, nothing but our frantic breathing and the approaching footsteps filling the clearing.

Then—

"Yeah!" Bri suddenly called back, her voice forcibly casual.

I whipped my head toward her, eyes bugging out. Then I smacked her arm.

"Yeah?!" I hissed. "That's your plan?"

She winced, rubbing her arm but glaring right back at me. "I panicked!"

I shot a look over her shoulder, spotting the bobbing beams of their flashlights slicing through the trees.

"What did you find, Bri?" I muttered sarcastically, my voice dripping with disbelief.

She didn't answer—because now she was panicking for real. Her hands twitched at her sides, feet shifting as if she wanted to run but had no clue where to go.

Then, in a split second, she made a decision.

"Fuck, we've gotta do something." Bri spun on her heel, taking off toward Sam and Dean, maybe to stall them, maybe just to do something.

She turned back once, eyes locking onto mine. "Eve, you—"

But I was already ahead of her.

I fainted.

Or at least, I made it look like I fainted. My legs went limp, my body dropping hard into the mud with a dramatic thud.

"Uh, that'll work..." Bri muttered, barely masking her amusement as she turned to meet Sam and Dean's approaching figures. She forced a breathless tone into her voice. "She's over here!"

The effort was almost enough to make me crack, my lips twitching at the corners. But I held firm, focusing all my energy on looking as convincingly unconscious as possible.

As their footsteps closed in, something strange happened—I felt the fangs retract, sliding back into my gums like they'd never been there at all. A second later, boots crunched against the dirt beside me.

Dean sighed. "Jesus. If it's not a werewolf, an ex, or some vamp cult, she's running off and fainting in the damn woods."

Before I could internally curse him out, I felt his arms scoop me up.

My fingers twitched with an idea.

As he adjusted his grip, I let my nails drag just enough across his neck to leave a faint scratch.

"Ow—son of a bitch!" Dean hissed, nearly dropping me.

"Careful," Bri warned, shooting him a look.

Dean scowled but kept his hold steady. "I've got her."

As he started walking, Bri leaned in when she was sure the boys weren't paying attention.

"You're fucking crazy," she whispered, barely containing a giggle.

I cracked one eye open just long enough to wink at her before snapping it shut again.

Bri cleared her throat. "You know, just because some shit's gone down—" she turned her voice toward Dean now, "—the werewolf? That was on you guys—"

"On us?" Sam cut in, incredulous.

"I'm not done," Bri smirked.

I had to fight back a grin.

"The ex?" she continued. "That's something she thought she was rid of. And the cult?" She glanced at Dean with a smirk. "Yeah, that one's on you."

Dean's jaw clenched. "Bri." His tone was sharp, but I could hear the I don't have time for this shit undercurrent.

They reached the porch, and he nodded at the door for Sam to push it open.

"Where am I—?"

"Upstairs." Bri took the lead, guiding them up the creaky steps. Sam peeled off to go debrief a very confused Bobby, leaving Dean to follow her into our shared room.

He slid me onto the twin bed with surprising gentleness. I stayed limp, resisting the urge to shiver as he hesitated, brushing a strand of hair from my face before exhaling sharply.

"I've got it from here, Romeo," Bri quipped, tugging at his sleeve.

Dean rolled his eyes but stopped at the doorway.

Bri tilted her head, arms crossing. "You know, part of your problem? Zero communication."

Dean's expression flickered—annoyance, guilt, something unspoken behind his eyes. He ran a hand through his hair, glancing at me before muttering, "I'm not good with words, Bri."

His voice was quiet. Honest.

"You, of all people—other than Sammy—would know that."

Bri smirked. "I didn't say it had to be verbal."

She let that thought hang in the air as she stepped back, shutting the door behind her. The soft click barely registered before my eyes snapped open.

"Now, what the fuck was that?" Bri demanded, striding toward the bed and blocking the path between me and the door.

I exhaled sharply, glancing down at my mud-caked hands, the torn remains of my outfit clinging to my body. "...Whatever it was, it was—"

"Cut the bullshit, Eve." Bri's voice was sharp enough to slice through the haze in my head. "You're a fucking vampire."

I blinked.

"...No..." I frowned as flashes of pain surged through me—convulsing on the cold floor of that cell, the gnawing starvation, the sheer agony that wracked my body. The unnatural strength it had taken to kick a locked steel door off its hinges. The speed I'd used to rip through an entire nest of vamps just to get Bri, Dean, and Sam out alive.

"...What?" My voice was barely a whisper as I stared at the chipped paint on the wall, my mind racing.

Bri sighed, shifting on the bed. "Let me get this straight..."

"Please do," I muttered, pulling my legs up to my chest, bracing myself.

Bri mirrored the motion, sitting cross-legged as she started counting on her fingers. "The leader fucked with your head, made you choose between yourself and Dean. You chose you."

I flinched.

"They knocked Dean out and took you. Locked you...?"

I swallowed hard. Bri never saw where I was kept. She hadn't seen the damage I'd done to that door—or the blood I left behind when I finally escaped.

"A cell. Down a level from where you guys were."

She nodded, though her expression only grew more clouded with questions.

"They beat you, stabbed you...bit you." Her voice was quieter now. "Turned you. When you changed... were you alone?"

Her question hit me like a gut punch.

I could hear her heartbeat pick up, the way her breath hitched slightly. She was genuinely upset.

"Yes." I exhaled, dropping my gaze. "It was horrible. It was like every injury I'd ever had was healing itself—but in reverse." My voice shook as I forced myself to explain. "No magic, no numbing, just... bones snapping back into place, wounds sealing like they were being ripped open first."

I hesitated, then pulled my shirt up slightly, revealing deep, angry bruises across my ribs—ones I hadn't even realized were still there. "Like when Nick broke my rib? It just... reset itself."

Bri flinched, clapping a hand over her mouth. "Jesus fuck."

"And I was starving." I licked my lips instinctively, my throat dry. "They didn't feed me. No food, no water. And after the transition—no blood."

Bri's hands slowly dropped to her lap, her expression twisting in disbelief. "They left you for dead?"

"The next thing I knew, I heard you." I placed a hand on Bri's knee, my voice softer now. "You pulled me out of there, Bri."

A faint blush crept up her neck as she met my gaze, then—before I could process it—she pulled me into a tight hug. Her warmth was overwhelming against my skin, her heartbeat steady and slow, a stark contrast to my own.

I inhaled sharply.

And immediately regretted it.

Without meaning to, I sniffed my best friend.

Bri froze. "Did you just—?"

"I'm sorry!" I blurted, wide-eyed.

We stared at each other, dead serious—before both of us burst into uncontrollable laughter.

"I have no idea what I'm doing," I admitted between gasps, wiping at my eyes as Bri clutched her ribs, still shaking from laughing too hard.

She exhaled dramatically and gestured with both hands. "Okay, you don't know what you're doing. Lucky for you, there's a whole office—library—downstairs full of books with nothing but directions." She smirked, nodding over her shoulder. "I'll sneak down there, grab a few, maybe talk to Sam—"

"No."

I shot up from the bed, grabbing her shoulders before she could even take a step.

Bri startled, eyes widening. "Jesus, Eve—"

"You can't tell Sam." My grip tightened instinctively.

Her expression softened. "Okay, I won't." She took my hands gently, pulling them from her shoulders and holding them between us. "But you need to understand something—Sam and Dean are gonna figure it out soon. And when they do, I'm pretty sure they'd rather hear it from us."

I swallowed hard, my throat thick with emotion. "...What if they—"

"I won't let that happen." Bri cupped my face, her grip firm, grounding me. "You hear me?"

I lowered my gaze, my throat tightening further.

"What?" Bri tilted her head as she let go.

I hesitated, then exhaled, my voice barely above a whisper. "I'm just... so sick of everyone feeling like they have to protect me." I clenched my fists in my lap. "From werewolves, from exes, from vampires..." I trailed off. "I've never felt so weak in my life."

I dropped back onto the bed, my legs dangling over the edge.

Bri scoffed. "Weak?" She sat down next to me. "Are you serious?"

"Bri, I'm not strong enough to do anything on my own." My voice cracked as I gestured toward the door. "You heard Dean out there in the woods. Maybe this life... just isn't for me."

Silence.

Bri swallowed hard, her jaw tightening.

"We'll revisit this conversation." She gestured between us before standing up. "Right now, I'm getting those books. I'll be back in a bit—take a shower in the meantime."

She stepped into the hallway, nodding toward the bathroom before heading in the opposite direction, disappearing from sight.

I glanced down at myself—mud-caked, torn clothes clinging to my skin.

She was right. I needed a shower.

I heaved myself off the bed and stumbled across the room, grabbing a pair of shorts, a blue tank top, and fresh underwear before heading toward the door. Adjusting my bra on top of the small pile, I stepped out—

And collided with a solid chest.

"Eve." Dean's voice rumbled against my ear just as my clothes tumbled to the floor.

I groaned. "Shit."

"My bad." He scoffed, bending down to gather my clothes. He handed them back—until he hesitated, holding up my black lacy bra between two fingers. "...Kinky."

Heat crawled up my neck. I fought the urge to smile but failed miserably.

"Dean." I shot him a warning look, reaching for it.

He yanked it just out of reach. "Are you feeling better?" He asked casually, still holding my bra hostage.

"I was." I huffed, making another grab for it, only for him to sidestep me effortlessly. "Can I help you?"

He exhaled sharply, the teasing edge in his voice softening. "Actually, I wanted to apologize."

That stopped me cold. I lowered my arms, suspicion creeping in. "For?"

He hesitated before gesturing vaguely. "Everything." His fingers fidgeted with the lace now. "The hotel thing, the girl... the cult..." He trailed off, glancing up at me through the sheer fabric just as I finally snatched it from his grasp.

"...But mostly for leading you on."

I froze.

Dean Winchester, Mr. Bury It Deep and Never Talk About It, just laid that out like it was nothing.

Sliding his hands into his pockets, he leaned against the wall, exhaling sharply. His gaze dropped to the floor. "It was my fault you ended up in that chamber to begin with. And I'm not sure how I'll ever make that up to you-"

"Wait, your fault?" My arms crossed tightly over my chest as my eyebrows shot up. "How the fuck is it your fault?"

Dean blinked at my sharp tone, caught off guard. "Well, I'm the one that picked up the hunt. I'm the one that has initiated most of this thing between us."

I let out a dry laugh, shaking my head. "That's bullshit."

Dean opened his mouth, but I took a step closer, cutting him off.

"I chose to go with you Dean. I chose not to fight you on having a single bed hotel room. I chose you."

His jaw tensed as his eyes flickered with something unreadable.

"You wouldn't have had to make that kind of decision if it weren't for me," He shot back, peeling himself off the wall.

"That's not how that works," I argued, throwing my hands up. "I make my own damn choices, Dean. You don't get to rewrite this like you forced me into anything."

His lips pressed into a tight line. "I just-" He exhaled harshly, shaking his head. "I don't get how you still chose me after what I did."

"You think you have that much power over my decisions?" I countered, my voice firm. "That's cute."

I took a sharp breath, steadying myself. "Yeah, you hurt me, Dean."

"I know and I don't know how to make it right -"

"You can't,"The words left my mouth like a blade, sharp and final. My grip tightened around the pile of clothes in my hands. "You showed me where I stood and -"

"- and you still choose me over yourself." His voice was quiet, almost disbelieving. His eyes finally lifted to mine, searching. "That was..." He trailed off, the weight of the unspoken words settling between us like a thick fog.

I swallowed hard. "Dean." His name left my lips like a plea as I stepped a little closer. "You chose to sleep with that random whore."

His eyebrows shot up at my bluntness, but he didn't argue.

"You chose to keep playing this game between us, to let it be... whatever the hell this is." I gestured between us, frustration lacing my words. "You made bad decisions. Hell, maybe we both did. But even through all of that, I still see you."

Dean's expression hardened, but his eyes- God, his eyes- were filled with something raw and aching.

I pressed my palm against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my fingertips. "I see your soul, your heart..." My frown deepened, "...You're still worth saving."

His breath hitched, just slightly.

I exhaled, my voice barely above a whisper. "Please...don't ever think you're not."

"Eve..." Dean's voice was just as soft, barely audible, but the moment I stepped back, his expression shifted- something unreadable flickering across his face.

"But..." I smirked, breaking the tension. "you're still an Ass."

A flash of something like relief crossed his face before I continued. "I'm not going to stand here and argue with you over whose fault it was that I got snatched...it happened, I survived, can we leave it at that?"

"No."

Dean sidestepped in front of me, blocking my path to the bathroom.

"Move," I scowled.

"You got snatched on my watch, and that ain't right." His jaw was tight, his voice laced with something between frustration and guilt.

I threw my hands up. "Who cares! I got out of there- thanks to Bri, Sam and you."

"I couldn't leave you down there Eve," Dean's voice dropped, his hand gesturing downward as if the memory was still burned into his mind. "I told you, you're different -"

"- Says the manwhore that not only proved me right, but made it crystal clear that I was just another girl to him." My words were sharp, venomous, but my chest ached. "Maybe I got what I deserved, thinking that this could be anything more than just a hot flirt."

Dean's expression shifted, something unreadable behind his eyes, but I didn't wait for whatever bullshit was about to spill out of his mouth. I adjusted the clothes in my arms and stepped to the side to get past him.

He moved with me.

I clenched my jaw. "Dean."

"Eve." His voice was quieter now, but there was an edge to it.

I exhaled sharply through my nose and tried again, stepping the other way. He blocked me again.

My patience snapped. "Damn it, Dean, move."

"Just—" He dragged a hand down his face, looking frustrated. "I can't let you walk away thinking that's all you were to me."

I scoffed. "You showed me exactly what I was to you."

Dean's nostrils flared, but instead of firing back, he took a breath, his gaze locked on mine like he was searching for something. "You ever think maybe I pushed you away because I knew what was gonna happen?"

I blinked. "...What?"

"I knew, Eve." His voice was rough, full of something that almost made my chest tighten. "I knew if I let myself have you, really have you, it'd be different. It'd be... real."

I frowned. "That's the dumbest shit I've ever heard."

Dean huffed a humorless laugh, shaking his head. "Yeah? Well, I've been running from shit like this my whole life."

My breath caught. For a moment, neither of us said anything. The air between us was thick, the weight of everything unspoken pressing in.

But then I shook my head, clearing the static. "That's great, Dean. Real touching. But I still smell like shit, and this conversation isn't gonna change that." I gestured at myself with the bundle of clothes in my arms. "So if you'll excuse me—"

I stepped forward again, and this time, he let me pass.

But just as I reached the bathroom door, his voice stopped me.

"I do choose you, Eve."

I gripped the doorknob, my knuckles white. I didn't turn around.

I didn't know if I could.

Instead, I swallowed, forcing my voice to stay steady. "Then prove it."

And with that, I stepped inside and shut the door behind me.

The door barely clicked shut before I felt it—Dean pushing in after me, his presence overwhelming in the small bathroom. My pulse jumped, and I spun to glare at him.

"Dean, what the—"

"You said to prove it." His voice was low, rough, his eyes burning into mine. "So let me."

I tightened my grip on my clothes, feeling the steam of my own frustration rise. "Prove it by giving me some goddamn space."

He shook his head, stepping closer. "No. I'm done running, Eve."

My back hit the counter. "Who said I wanted you to stop?"

Dean's breath hitched, and for a second, I thought I had him. That he'd finally back off. But instead, he exhaled sharply through his nose, placing both hands on the counter beside me, caging me in.

"You can push me away all you want," he murmured, his voice softer now, but no less intense. "But we both know what this is."

My throat felt tight. "And what is this, Dean?"

He searched my face like he was trying to memorize it, his jaw clenching before he finally whispered, "Something I don't wanna lose."

I barely had time to react before Dean reached out, his fingers ghosting over my jawline with a gentleness that made my breath hitch. It was the softest touch, barely there, but it sent a tremor of heat through me, unraveling my defenses threat by threat.

His hand slipped to cup my cheek, his palm warm against my skin, rough from years of fighting battles neither of us ever asked for. My pulse raced in my ears as his thumb traced just below my cheekbone, his touch hesitant, almost reverent.

"Eve..." His voice was low, uncertain, like he was waiting for me to push him away.

But I didn't.

I should have. I should have shoved him back, told him this wasn't how we fixed things, that it was too late. But I didn't.

Because the second his lips brushed mine, every ounce of resistance I had, shattered.

Dean kissed me like he was afraid I'd disappear, like he needed to remind himself that I was still here, still breathing.

His lips were soft but demanding, pressing into mine with a desperation I felt mirrored in my own bones. My hands dropped the pile of clothes I had brought with me, letting them scatter to the floor as I reached for him without thinking. My fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, clutching him like he was the only thing anchoring me to reality.

A low groan rumbled in his chest as his hands skimmed down my sides, strong and sure. In one swift motion, he grabbed my waist and lifted me, setting me onto the bathroom counter. The cool surface beneath me was a stark contrast to the heat radiating between us, but I barely noticed.

My legs instinctively parted, his body slotting between them as if he was made to fit between them. His touch burned through the thin fabric of my shirt, sending a shiver up my spine, and warmth tingling in my stomach as he deepened the kiss, his lips moving against mine with a mix of urgency and something dangerously close to reverence.

Every brush of his lips against mine felt like it was unraveling something deep inside me- something I didn't know how to control. I felt his heartbeat pounding beneath my fingers as I slid my hands up to his neck, pulling him closer. The warmth of his body pressed against me, and it felt like we were sinking into each other, a collision of past regrets and unspoken desires.

His hands roamed over my skin, fingers tracing the curve of my waist and the line of my back. It was a tender touch, like he was trying to memorize every inch of me, trying to hold onto something before it slipped through his fingers.

I needed to stop this. I should stop this.

But the way his mouth moved against mine, the way his body fit so perfectly against me... everything else faded into the background. There was just him. Just the weight of his kiss and the heat of his touch, drowning out all the noise in my head.

His breath hitched as he slid his hands lower, gripping my hips, tugging me closer. I could feel the hard line of his body against mine, the pulse of desire between us that I didn't want to ignore. My own hands found their way to his chest, pushing the fabric of his shirt up, craving the feeling of his skin beneath my fingertips.

Dean took a half step back, peeling his shirt off and letting it fall to the floor before taking his place between my thighs once more.

My heart skipped a beat, a mix of anticipation and panic flooding through me as his hands slipped up my sides, gently but firmly, pulling my shirt over my head. The air in the bathroom suddenly felt too hot- too thick- and I was aware of every inch of skin that was being exposed to him. My breath caught in my throat as his fingers brushed over the bare skin of my back, sending a shiver through me.

He paused for a second, his eyes locked onto mine, dark and heavy with desire. "You sure?" His voice was rough, hesitant, like he was giving me an out, even though everything about his body screamed that he wanted this, wanted me.

But the weight of everything that had happened between us- the history, the pain- the mistakes- settled like a rock in my stomach. I opened my mouth to speak, to say something, but the words caught in my throat. He was right there, so close, and for all of my doubt, I couldn't seem to pull away.

I nodded, barely a whisper of affirmation, before his lips were on mine again, harder this time, as if we both knew there was no going back. His hands moved down to my thighs, lifting me just enough to press his body against mine, and I let out a soft gasp at the heat of him, the pressure of him between my legs.

His fingers made quick work of the button of my jeans, his lips trailing down my neck as he worked his way down my body, pulling my jeans off. The sensation of his hands slipping lower, tugging my jeans off with a practiced urgency, mixed with my own pulse racing beneath his touch. I felt exposed in every sense- vulnerable, unsure, yet undeniably alive under his touch.

Pressing a kiss to the sensitive skin on the inside of my knee, Dean held my gaze.
"These are pretty," he murmured, his fingers ghosting over the lace of my underwear—a slow, teasing touch. "They'll look even better on the floor."

A shiver ran through me at his words, at the heat in his stare as he traced the delicate fabric. My breath hitched when he hooked a finger beneath the waistband, tugging just enough to tease, to make me ache for more.

His lips followed the path of his hands, slow and deliberate, his breath warm against my skin. He pressed kisses to the dip of my hip, lower, his mouth skimming over me like a whisper, leaving heat in its wake. My fingers curled around the edge of the counter, anticipation coiling tighter inside me with every lingering touch.

Dean's eyes stayed locked on mine—dark, intent—watching every reaction, every sharp inhale, every unspoken plea. His hands framed my thighs, thumbs smoothing over my skin in slow, measured circles, as if memorizing me beneath his fingertips.

He kissed along the inside of my thigh, each press of his lips sending a fresh wave of heat spiraling through me. My breath came faster, chest rising and falling with every teasing inch he claimed. When his nose brushed against me, his breath hot and heavy, I let out a trembling gasp, my fingers tightening in his hair.

His grip on me firmed, anchoring me beneath him as his mouth found exactly where I needed him most. The first touch sent a jolt of pleasure through me, my hips instinctively shifting toward him. He made a low, satisfied sound against me, the vibration only intensifying the sensation.

Every slow, deliberate movement unraveled me further, each flick of his tongue, each graze of his lips, drawing me deeper into the fire he was stoking. My head fell back against the mirror, my body arching, chasing the feeling he so expertly coaxed from me. His hands held me steady, keeping me right where he wanted me, as he took his time—exploring, tasting, savoring.

The room felt smaller, the air thick with heat and the sound of my own helpless gasps. He was relentless, an intoxicating mix of patience and skill, working me toward the edge with exquisite precision. My world narrowed to this—him, the pleasure winding tight in my core, the slow, deliberate build pushing me higher.

My back arched as the sensation peaked, a sharp gasp spilling from my lips. His hands tightened on my hips, holding me steady as he pushed me further, learning every shiver, every quiet plea. Heat curled low in my stomach, coiling tighter, pulling me toward the inevitable.

Dean hummed in satisfaction, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure through me. He didn't stop, didn't falter, until I was lost in him, my body tightening, unraveling, shattering beneath his touch. The world blurred, nothing existing beyond this moment, beyond him, until pleasure crashed over me, stealing the breath from my lungs, leaving me weightless, undone.

A final kiss to the inside of my thigh, his grip firm and grounding as he guided me back down. When I finally opened my eyes, his gaze was on me—dark, knowing, filled with something that made my pulse stutter all over again.

"Beautiful," he murmured, voice thick with satisfaction.

The cool marble of the counter pressed against my skin, a stark contrast to the warmth still pulsing between us. My breath was uneven, slow to steady itself after what Dean had just done. He stood before me, his hands gripping my thighs, his eyes dark and heavy with satisfaction—but beneath that, a hunger still simmered. The air between us crackled with unspoken tension, the kind that lingered after every touch, every heated kiss.

I let my fingers slide through his hair, tugging him closer for one more kiss, tasting the lingering sweetness of me on his lips. His hands were everywhere—along my sides, on my hips, leaving traces of warmth in their wake. I could feel the strength in his touch, the restraint he was barely holding onto.

I pulled back slightly, watching him with a slow smile. I was in control now.

With a firm push against his chest, I stepped down from the counter, my bare feet meeting the cool bathroom tiles. I let my fingers trail down his torso, feeling the muscles tense under my touch, before I placed my hands at the waistband of his jeans. His breath caught, his hands hovering at his sides, but not stopping me.

"Let me take care of you," I whispered, my voice low, deliberate, with just a hint of teasing.

His chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, and though he didn't say anything, the tension in his body spoke volumes. His hands clenched at his sides, like he was fighting the urge to pull me closer. But I wanted to take my time—wanted to feel every inch of him, unravel him the way he had done to me.

With a practiced movement, I undid his jeans, sliding them down, taking my time to appreciate the way his body responded—muscles tightening, his skin so warm, his pulse racing beneath the surface. When I freed him, his breath hitched, the sound of it scraping the air between us, thick with need.

I didn't rush. Instead, I leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his hip, feeling the shiver that ran through him at the contact. The air around us was thick—heated with the tension that had built, the anticipation that hummed beneath my fingertips.

Dean's hands found their way into my hair, but he didn't guide me—he just held, his fingers threading through the strands as if bracing for what was to come.

I didn't break my gaze from him, the intensity in his eyes matching the fire that had already begun to burn low in my belly. Slowly, deliberately, I leaned in, my lips brushing against his skin, my breath hot against him as I took my time.

The groan he released when I first touched him, the way his hips jerked ever so slightly, sent a surge of power through me. My fingers curled around him and I took my time, savoring the way his body responded to every slow, teasing moment, every flick of my tongue.

His hand tightened in my hair, urging me on, but I kept my pace steady, wanting to draw out every moment, every sound. His breath turned ragged, the muscles in his thighs twitching beneath my touch, and I knew he was losing his grip on his control.

Dean's hand slammed down on the counter above me, knuckles turning white. His body was taut with the strain of holding back, but it didn't last long. His hips bucked against me, a low groan escaping him as he lost the battle. "Fuck, Eve—" The words barely left his lips before he was undone, his whole body shuddering, his grip on my hair tightening, pulling me deeper as his control slipped entirely.

I didn't stop, drawing out every last tremor, every aftershock, until he was left breathless, his head tipped back, the muscles of his chest heaving with exertion. For a moment, he stood there, hair still tangled around his fingers as his hand rested against the back of my neck as if to steady himself. After a moment, his hand slid from my neck to take my chin, making our eyes to lock again.

With nothing but satisfaction flashing across my face, I rose to meet his gaze, head on, once he managed to catch his breath. Dean seemed speechless, as he attempted to speak but all that came out was his struggle to breathe right again.

Without a word, I moved to the shower, twisting the knobs to the perfect hot temperature. I turned back to find his eyes. He was still standing there in awe. I noticed he wasn't taking his eyes off me, as if he was terrified of missing something.

His eyes managed to meet mine, again. With a different glisten behind them now, but I could tell he was still aching for more. The way his eyes traced me so much more closely than before.

I shot him a small smile and a nod towards the shower.