Despite the fact that I was driving at least five miles over the speed limit, the drive was taking much too long. Every red light that stopped me cold in the empty Chicago streets was one that I was becoming personally affronted by.

The night at the bar had been fun, but I was ready for it to get much, much more fun.

I hadn’t planned on calling Dean. The bar was getting louder and louder, and my coworkers drunker and drunker. As fond of them as I was becoming, I had no urge to overindulge again so soon after my last weekend. And the longer I texted Dean, the more I couldn’t help wishing he was there, too—or at least, we were together.

The drive to his apartment was going to kill me.

My stomach flipped with joyous anticipation.

I made it to his apartment after nearly a half hour. The buzz I’d had at the bar was nearly gone, but I felt dizzy anyway. The week of work, of being close but not close enough, of conversations that had to be stilted and stifled—

I didn’t bother putting my jacket or coat back on, just cut the ignition and locked the door behind me before racing towards the building. I punched in the code Dean had given me and took off up the steps, two at a time. Double checking that I was at the right apartment door, I raised my hand to knock.

Dean flung the door open before I had a chance.

His face was flushed, amber eyes wide as they flickered across my face and down my body. I feel his gaze like a scorching flame, flickering against me. His dirty blond hair was wild and unkempt—though much shorter and thinner than mine, it still stood nearly straight up in little spikes. He wore a threadbare t-shirt and low sweatpants that clung to his hips. I might have sighed a little. I felt better just by being near him.

“Dean.” Saying his name felt good. His lips spread in a smile.

He tilted his head and I copied the motion. “Jimmy.”

I wanted to know what he was thinking. I wanted to see his apartment, fully, again, to see if it looked the way I remembered it through the hungover haze from last week. I wanted to ask him about his evening, even though we had been texting about it for most of the night.

I wanted—

Dean surged forward and kissed me. Yes, I thought blissfully, I want this.

I threw my arms around his neck, pushing forward until he was stumbling into the apartment. His arms around my waist tugged me and my tripping feet with him. His lips were harsh, giving and pulling with a speed and fierceness that had my heart slamming against my ribcage. I licked my way into his mouth, groaning against him. He tasted like mint and chocolate.

The door slammed behind me. I didn’t pay it any mind.

He pulled away and a small whining sound fell from my throat when I chased his lips. Dean’s lips were still parted and his eyes still closed. I sucked his bottom lip, sliding my tongue across the swell of it, biting lightly, before pulling away to attack his neck. I mouthed at the sensitive skin under his jaw, lips and tongue sliding across it as I tasted him. He let out a soft, breathless litany of moans as I took the skin between my teeth gently.

One hand slide up into his hair and the other slid up underneath his t-shirt. The cut of his abs was firmer than I remembered, the pads of my fingertips tingling as I ran them up and down his sides and chest. Scraping his skin lightly produced a loud groan. The sound had me biting at his neck a bit harder than I meant to.

I pulled back, my whole body thrumming with lust. Dean swayed a little closer. I flattened my hands against his stomach to hold him up.

His eyes fluttered open. They were swimmingly dark and his lips were parted. “Jimmy.” His voice was so rough it seemed to catch on his throat.

My hands moved of their own accord. They were sliding down his stomach until I reached his sweatpants. I rested my thumbs against him.

He jolted forward; the long, hard length of him pressed up against my thigh. Experimentally, I watched his face as I pushed forward, just a little. His eyelashes fluttered and he let out a sound so soft, I had to concentrate to hear it at all.

“Dean,” I said, mouthing at the other side of his neck. When I spoke against his skin, he shivered underneath my hands. “Can we take this somewhere a little more—horizontal?”

Dean let out a growl and said, harshly, “Hell yeah.”

He jumped away from me, sliding our hands together as he tugged me after him toward his bedroom. I barely remembered the layout. I wanted to look at every knickknack, know everything on his bookshelf. Then he turned back and shot me a grin and I wanted something else much, much sooner.

The second we walked past the threshold of his room, my body remembered being in here.

My spine stiffened and my breath caught in my throat. I felt beautifully, blissfully trapped in the doorway of Dean’s room. Then, all at once, my heart was in overdrive and I strode forward, pushing hard on Dean’s chest until he fell backward onto the bed, bouncing a little with the motion. He leaned up on his elbows, grinning a wide, lopsided smirk, and his eyes raking me up and down.

I tore my tie off from over my head and then started to slowly unbutton my shirt. Dean tore his t-shirt off over his head before lounging again, scooting up a little on the bed. He made to turn and sit up against the headboard but my hands shot out, slapping down onto his thighs, stopping him.

“Wait,” I said, my voice felt harsh. A twinge of worry shot through me, but Dean only raised his eyebrows and complied instantly.

Once my shirt was on the floor, I took a moment to just look at Dean.

He was, in short, completely marvelous.

His blond hair looked thoroughly messy. When he let his eyes fall, before opening again his long, pale lashes brushed against his cheeks. The black, lust-blown pupils were huge compared to the sliver of amber that remained. His lips were still kiss-bruised and his neck had the makings of a beautiful mark. I loved the bruises he’d sucked into my skin the other night and hoped that Dean would enjoy the reminder as much as I had.

His chest was bare now, the smooth, tanned skin a broad expanse that my fingers ached to run over. I had been enthralled by his shoulders since we’d first woken up in bed together and now, staring down at him half-naked and waiting for me, my stomach coiled and my cock twitched in my slacks from the look of him.

His sweatpants were slung low on his hips, the taut V of his hips visible, and the material spreading in a tall tent as Dean’s cock pushed against the material.

Dropping to my knees I grabbed his sweatpants with both hands and tugged them down. He lifted his hips and I slid them off, untangling them from his ankles. He hadn’t been wearing underwear and now that he was free, his cock resting against his stomach. The dark red tip already glistened. His hands twitched as they lay on the blankets and I imagined how badly he wanted to grab himself. It was probably close to how badly I wanted to touch him.

Dean, completely naked, legs spread outward against the side of the bed, while he looked down at me from his propped up elbows, eyes hooded and mouth open. He bit down into his bottom lip, letting it go with a pop, and let out a small, whiny, “Jim.”

I tore my eyes away from his, letting them resettle on his red, twitching cock.

I let my hands rest on Dean’s thighs and then leaned forward, licking a stripe up the underside of his cock. Dean let out a loud, guttural groan as I did it again and again, alternating my speed as I licked him all the way around, the flat top of my tongue sliding across his slit gently. His hips jolted forward and his fingers tightened in the blankets.

I let my lips join my tongue, still not taking him fully in my mouth, just teasing him until he was letting out a string of curses and a steady stream of pre-cum. My lips were slippery with it and I left sloppy kisses all over the head and shaft of his dick.

When his hands finally gave up on the sheets and tangled in my hair, I swallowed him down halfway and groaned loudly as his nails scraped harsh against my scalp. I relaxed my throat, letting Dean thrust shallowly into my mouth as I swiped across his length with my tongue. I could feel the brush of his skin and hair against my cheek and nose, could taste the heady, dark punch of his skin, feel him in and around me and I was nearly as desperate for it as he was. My cock pushed painfully against my zipper and as badly as I wanted to reach down and help myself, I knew that if this evening was going to be half what I was planning on, I needed to slow down.

Reluctantly, I pulled away.

Dean groaned a little but when I turned my attention to his thighs, placing light kisses and little bites against his sensitive flesh, he relaxed back into my ministrations and moaned again. It was a delicious soundtrack I wanted to keep playing forever. I could listen to the breathless, punched out sounds Dean made until I died.

I moved my attention, focusing on soft, sucking kisses on Dean’s more sensitive inner thighs, fingertips running up and down his outer sides, only sometimes sliding in closer to tease around his leaking cock. I didn’t touch him and from the slow way he was rotating, and the pleading way he was saying my name, I thought it was working.

When Dean was all but writhing for me, I yanked his hips toward me a little, pushed his legs up and licked against his hole.

“Jimmy!” He moaned my name, throwing his head back hard against the sheets. I licked at him a few more times, my tongue sweeping around the sensitive area before pulling away. I wiped the back of my hand against my mouth.

Dean leaned up on his elbows, looking down at me.

“Is this okay?” My throat felt a little sore and Dean’s eyes widened. His whole body trembled just a little.

“Is it—” he cut himself off, laughing. It sounded nearly hysterical. “Yeah, Jim. It’s okay.”

I grinned. “Then lay back down,” I suggested.

Dean fell back quickly, and I chuckled at his eagerness. He laughed with me until I dipped my head back between his legs and pushed my tongue against the tight muscles there, licking my way into his body. His laughter broke off into a long, guttural moan.

I hadn’t done this very often—maybe once or twice before, with an old boyfriend. He hadn’t liked it much, had only liked me on my back or knees for him. But when it was done to me, I had always loved it. I wanted to give that to Dean—I wanted him to feel as good as I could make him.

I listened carefully, making sure to slow and adjust when he wasn’t making the soft, happy noises I was coming to expect from him. When he was moaning loud, legs trembling around my head, and my lips and tongue were going numb from the pressure, I pulled away, replacing my mouth with one finger and then, when his body let me slide in, two.

“Oh, fuck! Goddamn, yeah, oh, right there,” Dean babbled, hips grinding down a little. I pulled out, though, ignoring the low, whining sound Dean made in his throat.

“Lube,” I demanded. Dean started to scramble up but I held him still with one hand on his hip. He pointed to the nightstand and I found the lube and condoms easily. My knees ached a little from the floor and my head swam. I was so hard that it hurt to breathe, let alone move. Dean grabbed at me when I came closer to the bed and when he undid my button and zipper, I groaned. My eyes prickled from the relief.

He tried to push down my pants and I dropped the condoms to the bed to help him. I toed out of my shoes and pushed my slacks and boxers down, stepping out of them. Dean scurried up the bed, laying with his head against the pillow and reaching toward me.

Straddling his hips, I couldn't help dropping down to press a hard kiss at his throat. Dean twisted until he had a hand in my hair and he yanked. I gasped and he took the moment to kiss me passionately.

When his long fingers wrapped around me, pumping twice, I hissed into his mouth.

“Dean,” I cried out, head falling to his shoulder. I could feel his hand grow more slippery as my pre-cum leaked onto him and he used it to slide against me. His hips rotated and we were fucking against each other, cocks catching every few thrusts deliciously enough to have stars in my eyes.

Desperate, I tried to push his hand away. “Fuck, fuck, Dean, I—I’m not going to—”

Dean let me go instantly. I threw my head back and ran my hands down my face, groaning as I tried to get control. I was seconds away and, Good Lord, but that would be embarrassing.

A minute passed. After a half other, I managed to look down at him. He was smiling, lopsided, and his thumbs were running soothing circles against my hip bones. “You’re...”

Dean’s smile softened anyway. “You, too.”

My mouth was dry, my whole body drawn tight, a string ready to snap. “Is—do you want—I don’t mind if you—” I couldn’t get the question out, stumbling through the words. Despite having felt so confident a few minutes ago, my nerves were back in full and I just wanted him to feel good. The quiet smile, the bright look on his face, disarmed me.

Dean’s thumbs never stopped stroking and his smile never let up. “Jim,” he said, tilting his head just a little. “Please fuck me.”

And, okay. Hot fire washed through me, burning away the nervousness. My cock jumped, pressing tighter against Dean’s leg. When he felt it, I felt his throb a little underneath me.

We were both already so close—he looked so good, all flushed and pleasant.

I slid down a little and grabbed the abandoned lube. Dean grabbed a condom and tore it with his teeth, and rolled it onto my cock as I poured a liberal amount of lube on my fingers. Carefully lifting one of Dean’s legs to the side, I slowly slid one, then two fingers inside of Dean. When he groaned, eyes closing, and hips starting to move, I slid in a third, stretching him. His hands stilled over my covered cock and then he gripped me a bit harder, letting out a low keening sound as I pressed into him.

“There, there, Jimmy, please, fuck,” he gasped out a string of words and then curses, and I pumped my fingers into him, curling to hit the spot he was begging for. When he was thrusting up and back against my hand, sliding his hands up and down on me, I pulled away and swallowed his groan with a long, scorching kiss.

He grabbed the lube and poured a hefty amount of lube on my cock, smearing it around. Then he looked up at me, eyes wide and dark and smile a bit more blissed-open than spread, the look of complete perfection.

Lining myself up with Dean, I had one hand against the mattress by his head and the other closer to his shoulder. Dean had one hand wrapped around my bicep and the other on my shoulder.

I slid into him, groaning loud. The low, gravel sound mixed with the soft, breathless moaning that Dean punched out of his own lungs. When I made it halfway in, I stilled waiting and trying to catch my breath. He felt so good. Hot and tight and perfect around me, one of his legs raised to wrap around my waist.

“Fuck, move,” he said, and that was all I needed.

I pushed all the way into him and let my head fall to his chest, before his hips were rising and slapping against me as I fucked hard into him. We met each other’s thrusts, his teeth going to my throat as he worked bruising kisses and bites against my neck. I rocked my hips into his, rolling and twisting and trying to find that—

Dean let go of my neck with a gasp and let out a long, desperate noise.

—That spot. I fucked into him slower, more pointed, again and again, feeling my orgasm rushing up on me.

Heat licked at my veins and Dean made constant, beautiful noises in my ears. I had never felt quite this good—this full, this whole, this hot and warm and sparkling before.

My hips snapped with a punishing rate and Dean took it all, both of his legs wrapped around me, his fingernails biting into my skin and then he let out a long “Jimmy!” before he was gasping, falling quiet.

His cock was trapped between our bodies. It spluttered before he came, long and hard, thick white ropes painting across his stomach and my chest while his body locked up and his back arched.

He looked beautiful. Every inch of him was intoxicating. When his eyebrows furrowed, lips curling in a silent o while his untouched cock gave one last twitch, I grabbed at Dean’s hips, holding onto him as I thrusted a few last times.

“Please,” Dean voice barely broke through the fever dizziness coating me now, “please, please, come, Jimmy, come.” That was all I needed. I thrust one last time into Dean before throwing my head back and my own body locking as I spilled into him. My vision went black and my heart was frozen for a half moment.

When I finally came back down, my heart was slamming in my chest, and I slowly slid out of Dean. When I pulled away from him, I saw our bodies both coated with his cum.

Dean was blushing a little, although that could have been the flush from before. We were both sweating. He reached to his nightstand and grabbed a few tissues, carefully cleaning us both up before tossing them away. I tied the condom and put it in the trash can that Dean offered.

I collapsed against the pillows. Dean shifted and pulled until my head was on his chest, his arm wrapped around me. I felt like purring, I was so comfortable. Dean was warm and—safe. Being this close to him settled me in a way I didn’t know I needed.

The feeling in my chest was more than just the sweet exhaustion of a good orgasm. It was something more lasting, something just more. I didn’t want to stay because I was tired, but because I didn’t want to leave Dean.

This wasn’t just a crush. I was falling for him. I was too tired to deal with the ramifications of this and when Dean curled me closer, I pushed it out of my mind.

“Stay,” Dean murmured, pressing a light kiss to my forehead.

I snuggled deeper into his chest, answering in a half-slur, “Always.”

I fell fast asleep before he could reply.