A/N: Let me start by saying I'm new to Supernatural, but not fan-fiction. This story started out as a something else and quickly grew out of control. It's different from other pieces I've posted because, in large part, this story is almost completely written. If you keep track of that kind of thing, it's looking like it will have a total of 17 chapters counting the prologue and epilogue.
I have started Kaitlyn's origin story, but I decided to go ahead with this one since it's mostly done. I know that's a little backwards. I hope you'll join me when I get around to posting that one. At present, the working title is Fairest of Them All.
For stephaniew... My good friend and partner in crime. I find it rather fitting that my birthday gift to you was born of your birthday gift to me. Thank you for bringing me into the fandom and helping me dig my muse out of the hole she was buried in...I'm currently undecided if it's a shame she crawled into the gutter soon thereafter. ;)
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. I've just discovered that the characters are too hot not to play with...
Prologue: She's My...Apple Pie?
Kaitlyn stands at the kitchen counter, the promise of a flaky homemade piecrust at her fingertips. She stirs lemon juice, starch, brown sugar, cinnamon and nutmeg into the freshly cut apples with a smile. The timer pings to let her know the oven is pre-heated just as she begins spooning the apples into the waiting shell. She hums softly to herself, happy that she's finally found the time to pull out Gramma Sue's battered old cookbook. Happy that she's finally found the time to make something special just for him. Happy that they finally have some time to just be.
He sneaks up behind her, sliding his arms around her waist. She jumps slightly and feels the smile on his lips as he kisses her neck. "How many times do I have to tell you sneaking up on me when I'm surrounded by sharp objects isn't a good idea?" she teases.
But he doesn't answer, he's far too distracted. "Are you making me pie?" he asks hopefully.
She turns in his arms, offering up a piece of coated fruit to his lips. She smiles wickedly and, just as he's about to close his mouth around it, pops it into her own. "I dunno, Dean," she says saucily. "You did sneak up on me and..."
He crushes his lips over hers. His tongue slips easily into her mouth, savoring the spicy hints left by the treat. He pushes her back against the counter with a playful growl. "Don't tease me, woman," he tells her, his hands sliding under the edge of her camisole.
She raises an eyebrow. "And just what are you gonna do about it, Winchester?"
He grabs the spoon from her hand and trails it down her bared chest, watching the rise and fall of her breasts. He can tell this is turning her on. Good. He sure as hell hopes so, because God knows she turns him on every goddamn second of every goddamn day. In ways she probably didn't even realize.
He licks the spoon, flicking his tongue against the wood the way he has against her skin. He watches her shudder, hears her breath catch. Dipping his head low, he laps at the sticky sweetness he's marked her with. His eyes find hers. "Get the pie in the oven, Kaitlyn," he husks, reaching for her hand, he moulds her fingers around the handle of the spoon. Her eyes are wide as he leans in to kiss her again. His hands smooth over her messy ponytail and come to cup the back of her neck. The kiss is lazy and drugging. It's thorough and tender. And he backs off just as her knees begin to buckle.
He turns her toward the counter, placing her hands against the worn laminate. He kisses her neck and teases her with a gentle swat to her backside. "I'll be upstairs," he breathes against her ear. "You know I can do an awful lot with 55 minutes." She feels the loss of his presence when he steps away. "Oh, and, babe?" he says, stopping at the door.
She turns, biting her lip as she takes in the sight of him leaning against the frame. A lump forms in her throat and she's unable to answer as he begins to unbutton his shirt. "Don't make me wait too long..."
~ ~ ~ ~ Supernatural ~ ~ ~ ~
He's standing at the window staring out at the pond when she enters the bedroom. He's wearing blue jeans, the well worn denim riding low as his hands rest in his front pockets. The broad expanse of his bare shoulders and back is stunning. She caresses him with her eyes. "Close the door," he commands. His voice is dark and rough. As soon as he hears the latch catch in the frame, he turns to her. A devilish grin stretches across his face. "Now lock it."
She's not entirely sure why she's doing as he says. She's independent in nature and while she likes being held, she doesn't enjoy feeling oppressed. Still, there is just something about the sinful tone he's using. Something that makes her weak and wet. Something that draws her in over and over again.
He crosses the room to her in a few strides. He tugs the elastic from her hair, eager to feel the strands slipping through his fingers. His lips fall heavily over hers. It's like he's devouring her. Eating her alive. Like no matter how hard he tries, he can't get his fill of her. She whimpers when he stops, her eyes fluttering open and searching for his. He entwines their fingers, dragging her hand up to his waiting mouth. "Thank you," he says. The sound makes her quiver, but it has little effect compared to the way he brushes her knuckles against his prickly cheek. He kisses her palm, his tongue scraping across her lifeline.
She wants to ask why, but the words don't come. It's almost like she's in a trance. She knows he's under her skin. That he's long since worked his magic, taking her heart as his own. "Dean," she sighs, sucking in a breath as his hand glides down her arm.
His mouth finds the bend in her elbow. "Shhh," he tells her. "It's my turn." His hands slide beneath her top, pushing hers away as she reaches for the hem. "I want to undress you," he tells her, his eyes dropping from hers. "You're all the birthday and Christmas presents I didn't get as a kid..." he adds quietly. His fingers rub circles on her skin as he shoves the shirt higher and higher until he pulls it off. He casts it quickly to the floor; his hands greedy to explore, his fingers hungry to touch.
He presses her back against the closed door, his breath hot as he kisses her throat. "Mmm," he whispers, his lips and tongue tormenting her. "I think I'd rather eat you than pie any day..."
"Please," she pants breathlessly, her hands pulling him closer. They tangle in his hair, dance across his shoulders, stroke his back.
"Oh, there'll be plenty of pleasing..." he teases, licking at the corner of her mouth. "You taste like cinnamon," he whispers.
She wraps a slender ankle around his calf, needing to be closer. Needing to feel everything she can feel. "Quit torturing me already," she complains.
He smirks. He likes this kind of torture. It's the only kind he likes. The only kind he'll take part in anymore. The kind with payoff. The kind that doesn't hurt. Reaching, his hand slips around her thigh and he raises her leg almost to his waist. "There're so many things that I love about you," he whispers, his nose nuzzling against hers. His fingertips stroke up her leg, brushing just under the edge of the ridiculous little shorts she's always wearing the ones that make... "Your legs are a mile long. I love the way they feel wrapped around me." He lifts her off the floor, feeling her shudder as he guides her other leg around him. He starts for the bed.
"The noise you make when I do this..." His mouth closes around the taut bud of her nipple eliciting a throaty purr. He chuckles. "Especially when you sound more lioness than sex kitten," his voice continues to scrape her raw and make her powerless.
She shifts her legs to help him as he draws her remaining clothing away. "That purr is gonna turn into a growl in a hot second," she warns.
"Is it now?" he taunts, lifting her leg and rubbing the ball of her foot. He kisses her ankle followed by her calf as he slides it over his shoulder.
She decides to throw him off balance. To take everything he has to give her. To make him hers. So she reaches for his hand and, using the ankle hooked around his neck, pulls him to her. She captures his mouth as she slides her leg down over his back. She feels him smirk. Damn him. This is exactly what he wants. "I don't like it when you tease me," she growls.
"Yes, you do," he responds, his fingers slipping down as he plucks at her lips. He's got the look. The one he uses when he knows he's got her. The one that's cocky and obnoxious and...completely adorable. His touch is effortless and it makes her squirm. His mouth moves to her ear. "Otherwise it wouldn't make you this wet..."
She reaches for the fastenings on his jeans, her hands brushing against his arousal. "Mmm," she says. "Appears I'm not the only one enjoying this..."
He rolls on his back, bringing her to straddle him. "I'm always ready to go when it comes to you," he says honestly. The mood seems to shift when he slips his hand into her hair and guides her lips to his. "God, all the little ways you turn me on," he mumbles, sitting up. "The ways you make me want you..." Big rough hands massage her thighs with incredible tenderness.
"Show me," she says hotly, quick hands unbuttoning his jeans. The look on his face as she moves on to the zipper causes a noise between a purr and a moan to escape. She licks her lips and watches his eyes darken even more. "I wanna know all of it..."
He gets up, feeling her body move against his. He's not sure he'd ever tire of this - of her. The weight and heat of her breasts pressing against his chest. The softness of her skin. The noises she makes. He strips off his pants and boxers before stealing back to her mouth for another kiss. His tongue teases with hers as his hand cups the back of her neck. The stand pressed together - naked - fighting for control. He pulls back slightly, he breathes, "Not enough time."
Her eyes twinkle. "You're not usually one for false advertising," she chides. "Whatever happened too being able to do a lot in 55 minutes?"
He wraps his arm around her, pulling her closer. "A lifetime wouldn't be long enough to show you everything."
"Mmm," she hums against his lips, her hands gliding over the smooth, hard muscles of his back. "I guess you had better get started then..."
He licks at her lips playfully. "I thought I already was," he says.
She shoves him softly, a smile curling onto her face and dancing in her eyes. "You know what I want," she husks. "Make love with me, Dean."
He backs her to the bed and lowers her. His thumb strums over her nipple as he kisses her, the combined sensations pulling her hips off of the bed. He shudders, his hand wrapping around the cool tubing of the headboard when her fingers stroke over his shoulders and she wraps a leg around him. He slides into her waiting heat causing them both to cry out. "So good," he breathes against her throat. "Just like..."
She moans as he thrusts more deeply. "If...you...say..." she pants breathlessly, "Apple...pie..."
"What?" he laughs, kissing her shoulder. "What'll happen?"
"I..." He cuts her off with another thrust making her moan. "Will..." He does it again, this time it's shallow and teasing. "Kill..." Back to deep, pushing her closer. "Oh...God...Dean..." she screams.
He buries himself within her. Feels her body fluttering around his, feels her breath catch and her heart hammering against his own. And he waits, giving her just enough time to catch up before he's moving. Shifting, he sends her over the edge again. The old brass bed gives him leverage. It allows him to pull deeper, taking them both to a devastating new height. They crash over the edge together breathing heavily, clinging to each other.
"Just like what?" she pants. "What were you going to say?"
He rolls off of her, a hand resting on his chest as the fingers of the other tangle with hers. "I don't know," he answers, equally out of breath.
"You weren't really going to suggest pie," she teases.
He shifts to his side and looks down into her eyes. "Nah," he says, biting his lip to keep back the smile. His eyes are serious, "It's cheesy chick flick stuff."
"You know, I am a chick..." she informs him. "I think I can handle it."
He kisses her, getting a little embarrassed. "Home," he confesses. "Being with you feels like coming home. Whether it's here or in some crappy motel room."
She sees a slight blush staining his neck. He's still not good with baring his heart. With laying everything out there. And for some reason, that just makes her love him that much more. She opens her mouth to say something just as the timer goes off. "Saved by the bell," she says with a soft kiss. She scrambles out of bed and into her robe.
He watches her on raised elbows, a smile on his face. "Keep looking at me like that, Winchester," she teases. "And this house is liable to burn down with us in it." Shaking her head, she turns to go.
"Hey, Kait?" he calls out to her.
"Yeah, babe?" she answers, stopping to lean against the doorframe.
"I love you," he replies.
She grins at him and tucks her hair behind her ear. "And you'll love me even more after you taste my pie." She darts down the hallway before he has a chance to respond, but she doesn't miss his laughter. It warms her and brings another smile to her lips.
~ ~ ~ ~ Supernatural ~ ~ ~ ~
She pulls the pie from the oven and turns off the stove. She breathes in the spicy sweetness, remembering how much she loves to bake. Humming to herself, she straightens up the mess. The action gives the pie a chance to cool enough to be cut and it gives Dean a few minutes of solitude to process things. In many ways, they're better off together; but in others, she knows he still needs time and, occasionally, space.
Opening the old freezer, she pulls out the vanilla ice cream and works the scoop around in the container before serving it onto a plate. She cuts a large slice of pie - big enough to share - and sets it next to the scoop, watching the steam rise. She sighs grabbing a glass and pouring some milk. She's a woman who knows her man.
She takes the stairs slowly, deliberately. Walking through the door, she pushes it shut with her foot. He licks his lips when he sees her and she stifles a giggle, unsure if the action is controlled by his stomach or his libido. Or, she hopes, both. She crosses the room to him, placing the glass on the nightstand and holding the plate just out of his reach. She straddles him, dipping her fingers into the mixture of pie filling and melted ice cream.
He grabs her wrist and sucks her fingers into his hot mouth. He pops them out and kisses her palm. "Pie and Kaitlyn," he husks. "Two great tastes..."
She cuts him off with a forkful of the pastry. He moans and licks his lips. The movement of his tongue is fascinating. It fills her head with dirty thoughts. Thoughts of things that don't involve pie. She tries to cover, putting a forkful into her own mouth, but that makes the situation worse. The pad of his thumb swipes over her lower lip and her tongue darts out to lick the digit just before he hauls her against his chest. His mouth is firm and she sighs into his kiss. She feels the emotion bubbling to the surface. Feels everything he usually struggles to hold back. And she takes action.
"Dean," she purrs, sitting back up in his lap. She guides his hands to her thighs before plucking a piece of fruit out of the shell. She worries her lower lip with her teeth as she trails the sticky slice down the middle of his chest. "When I'm around you I am like pie," she tells him, eyes on her hands rather than meeting his. "You make me sticky and flaky and tender." She laps up the sweet, spicy line, stopping to look into his eyes. "But you're like pie, too," she whispers. "Salty on the surface and sweet and gooey on the inside."
He pulls at the tie on her robe, longing to have her bare. Longing to feel her skin pressed against his. Wanting to make her feel every ounce of what she makes him feel. As he parts the garment, pushing it down over her shoulders, he sighs. "You're torturing me," he tells her.
She squirms against him slightly, feeling the hard length of him beneath the sheet. Her own body responds rapidly and she purrs as his thumbs massage her inner thighs. "I seem to remember someone torturing me earlier," she reminds him.
He chuckles and something in him relaxes in a way she's never seen before. He rubs the back of his neck. "Yep," he answers, "I suppose I was asking for it." He holds the plate in one hand and manages to roll her beneath him in a tangle of sheets and limbs. "Only I didn't make you choose between two of your favorite things."
She watches as he pushes the sheet out of his way. Sucks in air as his skin slips over hers, his lips following in a downward trail. She swallows, her hands fisting in the covers as he rests the plate on her stomach. He kisses her hipbone before moving lower. His tongue and his fingers roam over the creamy expanse of her thighs. "The question," he breathes hotly against her aroused flesh, "Is whether I eat you or the pie first."
He lays over her legs and grabs the fork from the plate. He shovels a few quick bites into his mouth. The moans he makes are slightly exaggerated for her benefit, the vibrations of them rocketing through her body and driving her mad. "This is good," he says, setting the plate aside. He dips his head low, his mouth and tongue cooled by the ice cream moving to taste her. The first pass he makes causes her eyes to slam shut. She can see him licking his lips in her mind and gasps as he strokes over her sweet spot again. She feels him hum against her skin, his lips turning up in a smile. "But it's really no contest," he utters, his fingers replacing his mouth as he moves up to kiss her. "You're definitely sweeter."
She whimpers; her body struggling to get more, to get closer to release. Her breathing is heavy as he nuzzles against her throat. He tugs on her ear lobe, sucking it into his mouth as he feels her getting close. Pulling back, he looks down into her hazel eyes - nearly black with desire - and that's when he gives it to her. Not the kiss she's expecting. Not an I love you. His tongue flickers across his lips, lapping at the remnants of her arousal. His teeth scrape over his lower lip. "If it's between you and pie?" he growls, his brows lifting suggestively, "I choose you. Every. Time."
She moans, dragging his mouth to hers and kissing him as if he were air. She breathes him in, her hands roaming over his body seeking to do to him what he'd done to her. To make him weak and needy. To give him what he had given her. That intense feeling - the high, the euphoria. Her hand closes around him as she lays on her side. Her mouth burns kisses over his chest and down to his thighs. She licks and nibbles at his hip before beginning the journey back upward.
"Kait," he squeaks, his voice rising an octave as he struggles to maintain control. "Babe, I...I'm not complaining...but if you ..."
She strokes him again, her elegant fingers supplying the perfect amount of pressure. Her tongue flickers over the taut skin of his abdomen.
He gulps. "Keep that up...I'm gonna...go...off like a roman candle..." he manages while fighting to breathe.
A naughty grin touches her face as she gives him a quick pump. Her hair brushes against his chest, her mouth dangerously close to his nipple. "But, Dean," she protests. "You're just so..." her tongue flickers over his sinfully smooth skin. "Damn." Again. "Lick-able."
He's had enough. He can't take it anymore. He knows he started it. Knows he had it coming. But he doesn't want it to end with her hands. He wants to feel her. Wants - needs - to continue giving her all the pleasure she gives him and more. So he moves over her, pushing her wrists into the pillow above her head, causing her breasts to press into his chest as he takes her saucy, little mouth in a deep kiss.
They moan together as he slides into her. He stays still; kissing her face, her neck. He wants to prolong it. To keep it from being over too soon. He smirks at the way her body responds. At the way she whimpers, longing for more.
She wants - needs - more. Needs everything he's got to give her. So she slides her calf around his as she shifts beneath him in silent offering. In surrender to the man who knows just how to hit the right spots.
And he folds like a deck of cards, because - while he's not always good with emotions - he's good at this. This is the one area he knows he'll never disappoint her. He moves slowly, gritting his teeth and holding his breath as he sets the rhythm. She feels perfect. Tight and hot. Soft and wet. He'll never get enough of this. A tear stings his eye as the thought adjusts - it's not just this. He'll never get enough of everything, of all of her. Of the simple things like holding her hand or waking up next to her. Of feeling like he doesn't have to be alone anymore.
She feels the change in his body. Sees the seriousness in his eyes. There's an honesty to his kiss. A weight and depth that are new. She shivers in anticipation of whatever's next. She matches him stroke for stroke, giving back as much as she takes. Waiting. Waiting for what's to come. Trusting. Trusting that this is the beginning of their greatest adventure. Knowing. Knowing they've got each other. And believing. Believing - because she does - that that they always will.
~ ~ ~ ~ Supernatural ~ ~ ~ ~
Morning light washes over his tanned skin in streams as the curtains dance in the early summer breeze. The sheets slide low over his hips exposing his washboard stomach, his right calf curls over top of the covers in a relaxed pose. She watches the way his lips part, the rise and fall of his chest, with a smile.
She thinks about how little sleep he got when they first met. How little sleep he often still gets. He smiles and says it's a job hazard, but she knows better. She knows sleep is haunted with memories of things he'd rather forget. Things that he'll never be able to completely let go of no matter how much love she gives him.
So she revels in these moments because it's not often that she awakens first. And when she does, she likes to watch him sleep. To see him completely at peace. Without the weight of the world straining his broad shoulders.
His eyes flutter open. The corner of his mouth curves up as he shifts to his side. His hand slips into her hair. "Hey," he whispers, his voice coarse with sleep. His lips brush hers in a tender caress. "Why didn't you wake me up?"
She snuggles closer, her hands gliding over his warm skin. Rather than answer, she kisses him back. She feels her heart start to beat a little faster as his arms wrap around her, pulling her over him as he lays flat. She laughs softly.
His fingers stroke up her back and he feels her shudder against him. "I love waking up next to you," he murmurs against her mouth.
She smiles at him. "You must think I'm insatiable..." she breathes, her hands roaming his chest. "Mmm, I just can't seem to get enough of you..."
He smiles into her kiss. "I like it," he murmurs. He takes his time. His touch is soft and gentle. He feathers kisses innocently over the line of her jaw. No reason to rush. No demons to chase. No brother to contend with. He can treat her body like the wonderland it truly is. His to explore. His to cherish.
He takes her mouth again, his tongue tickling hers as his hands slide down to her hips. "Kait?" his breath fans over her neck, tongue laps at her pulse point as he rolls her beneath him.
"Hmm?" she answers, arching beneath his skilled touch as his mouth closes hotly over an erect nipple. His thumb flicks over it's mate as her hand creeps into his hair. She feels his mouth moving lower. "You really..." her voice trails into a gasp as she feels the smooth skin of his chest sliding against her body in a downward trail. "Think I can..." she moans when he comes in contact with her navel. "Dean...oh God..."
He teases her with his mouth. Nuzzling his stubbled cheek against her thigh. It's quickly becoming a question of how far to push her before they both ache with physical need. "You know I love you, right?"
She sucks in air, her body struggling to get closer to the pleasure promised by his mouth as her brain fights to sustain the conversation. "Quite well and often," she purrs. "Dean..."
He smiles against her heated flesh. He's almost got her right where he wants her. And then he hears the knock on the door and his eyes slam shut. "Dammit!" he barks. "Go. Away. Sam."
"Look, I know we said we'd leave later in the week, but it's struck again. We should go," Sam fires back.
Dean growls in frustration. "We'll be down soon," he answers. He feels Kaitlyn wriggle beneath him. Feels her pulling him back up. He swallows a moan as her tongue snakes between parted lips to scrape over his nipple.
"How soon?" his brother questions from the other side of the door.
"Sam," he grinds from between clenched teeth. His tone carries warning, the words back off don't need to follow his brother's name.
She sighs against his chest. "We should get up and pack," she teases knowing nothing could drag her out of bed. Nothing could tear her away from sharing this moment with him.
"Mmm," he hums, his thumb sliding over her cheek. "We should do a lot of things, babe. And we will. After..." He winds her up. His touch spinning her tighter and tighter. He works her over in tiny, barely-there motions designed to make her quiver. He does it with his eyes. With his fingers, his mouth.
The laugh she feels bubbling within her chest dissolves into a moan as he eases into her. "Dean..." She grabs the brass tubing of the headboard with one hand and uses the leverage to arc her body into his. She pulls him closer. Savors the feel of his skin on her own.
He clings tightly to control, moving slowly. Enjoying the feel of her body. Taking in every throb and moan that comes. Cataloguing everything she makes him feel. "So...mmm..."
She clutches him, pulling him in. Savoring every thrust. Memorizing every little detail. "Oh, yes," she cries out, her fingers tightening around the cool metal. "Oh, God, yes...Dean..."