Author's Note: Just a little one shot Deansmut since I haven't done it in awhile.

The Game

"What do you want?" he asked.

She shivered at the sound of his deep voice; at the suggestion in his provocative words; at the hidden meaning behind them.

What did she want?

"You already know." It was a whisper softly spoken against his lips. Full, firm lips that were capable of giving a woman hour upon hour of erotic, orgasmic pleasure.

Perfect, sensual lips.

They touched hers, moved over them with a decadent leisure that was nothing but pure torture. He was going to tease her. Torment her. Make her moan and writhe and ache until she begged him. And she would beg because he was worth it.

This was the game. Their game. One they both knew well. One she had to play.

Of course, she wasn't without a few tricks of her own. Turning her head just enough to sever the kiss, she released a sigh. Her fingers caressed the warm skin at the back of his neck. She loved to touch him there. So smooth and soft. There weren't many soft places on him. Not on this titan. He was solid muscle. Hard strength. All man.

"Tell me." he urged. His sweet, hot breath fanned her cheek. It was no longer steady, but irratic. Like his heartbeat against her breasts. It's quick, uneven rhythm told her of his need. His passion. His desire. For her.

No longer able to resist, she faced him. Brown eyes locking with green. She knew it would be her downfall. Those eyes. Large emerald orbs framed by long dark lashes. The eyes were said to be the door to one's soul. His eyes were the entrance to both heaven and hell. The gate that opened to untold delights and iniquitous transgressions. The promise of both pleasure and pain.

Her hands slipped down, gliding over his broad shoulders. Onto the wide expanse of his sleek back.

"I want..."

She paused, enjoying the feel of his body's immediate reaction. Two words, two simple words and the muscles beneath her palms tensed. It would be so easy to say it. She knew what he wanted to hear. What he needed to hear. But not yet. He'd been gone too long, leaving her with an emptiness that had to be filled. And there was still the game to play.

"you to taste me." she finished.

He smiled. She knew he would. It was a wicked smile. A beautiful smile. Her answer had not been the one he'd wanted, but he wouldn't complain. He'd wait. Because he had no other choice. The game was the only way.

And then the heat dissipated as his weight shifted. He began a lazy slide along her body, leaving in his wake nothing but the cool breeze of the fan as it stirred the humid air. Fingertips brushed the high mounds of her breasts, grazing the stiff peaks, but didn't linger. They stroked over her long limbs, teasing the bare flesh. His breath swept over her, momentarily heating her skin, but his lips never touched her.

Sweet merciless anguish.

She felt the light caresses of his calloused hand along her belly; the slightly raised skin producing a coarse friction. It's roughness was a rousing contrast against her softness. Firm strokes dipped down along the outside of her thighs, then across the top. The tips of his fingers inched inward, grazing the insides briefly. So briefly. But so rapturously. Her legs drifted apart without delay, an open invitation, and his touch vanished.

He laughed softly. Dangerously. Then once again asked, "What do you want?"

And once again she replied, "You already know."

Long lean fingers gently plied her open. Wet heat flicked over her. Light, rapid movements. Long, feathery strokes. Then deep, penetrating thrusts. His tongue was a sacred tool and he wielded it like the magnificent warrior that he was.

She bit down on her lower lip, wanting to stay in control. She liked to imagine that she was the one who held it, maintained it, but that was an illusion. She was simply too weak, too willing when it came to this man. He held all the power.

No longer able to deny the potent, pulsing sensations imprisoning her, she let out a low, throaty moan. Her fingers tangled in his hair. Beneath his sinful mouth, her body began its wonderfully hypnotic dance over the sheets.

His hands began their own dance. Over her breasts, gripping her waist, slipping beneath to cup and lift her.

"Please!" she begged. Just as he knew she would. Just as she wanted to.

His grip on her tightened as he pulled her closer to the fire. So close she could do nothing but burst into flames. And as desire consumed her, she clutched at him, holding him to her as if her world, her very life, depended on it.

Deep down she knew it did.

Before the blaze was completely extinguished, his big hard body shifted, sliding up hers until they were perfectly aligned. Narrow hips lifted and she felt the smooth, silken tip of his cock brush the quivering flesh his mouth had just ravished.

"What do you want?" His green eyes were hooded, but she didn't have to see within their depths to know the unspoken need they held.

It was time. The game was over. This was real. And so was the yearning within him to hear the words. The words that could soothe his pain. The words that could save his soul.

Her hands cupped his handsome face. "You already know." she told him. "I want you, Dean. Only you. Always you."

Her lips captured his in a ravenous kiss that would leave no question in his mind as to the depth of her love. And like the starving man that he was, he fed greedily off her. Nipping and sucking on her sweet lips, devouring her, drawing her into him.

And then he needed to be in her.

His tongue plunged deeply inside her mouth as his body thrust into hers. She wound herself around him. Her legs wrapping about his waist, her arms encircling his neck. He stayed there, deeply seated, hip ground into hip. Wanting to be deeper inside of her. Needing to get closer to her. Knowing he could never truly be close enough.

Impatient, his mouth claimed hers with an intensity that drove them both on. Their bodies began to move, desperate to keep up with the fervent passion raging within them. Faster and deeper in one perfect sensualistic rhythm. He took her with a raw savageness that tore her breath away. Every urgent withdrawal, every pounding thrust took them higher and higher and higher.

The explosion started from deep within her, bursting outward, the indescribable pleasure that only he could give shattering her into a million pieces and she cried out. His low growl of satisfaction joined in as his solid body seized up tightly. As always, he was right there, falling apart with her.

He collapsed onto her, not wanting to seperate their bodies too quickly. She held him to her, not minding the extra weight, eager to give him those few extra moments he always seemed to want. The moments she always seemed to need. When he finally rolled to his side, drawing her with him into his embrace, she shoved aside the empty feeling, wondering why she continued to experience it each time his body left hers.

She felt him draw in a deep breath. He was content. Something he rarely was. And she had given him that, brief though it was. That made her happy because he deserved it. That and so much more.