A/N: Those of you who follow my Dean/Jo stuff know that I'm currently knee-deep in Drag Her From Heaven, Drag Him From Hell. This piece is something I've been saving knowing that as Heaven/Hell gets progressively darker, I'd need something of a peace offering. If you've read Chapter 9, you knew this was coming...if you're finding this without knowing about it *shameless self plug* I'm very proud of it and I'd love for you to check it out!
For Silverspoon and Welshwitch1011, the biggest Dean and Jo 'shippers I know, and for my friend and beta stephaniew - where would I be without you? These three ladies should be on your must read lists if they aren't already. I love them...and I think you will, too.
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural.
Need You Now
They haven't been in the house for a full minute before Dean has Jo's back against the door. His breath hot as sin as he trails open mouthed kisses over her throat and down the neckline of the shirt she's wearing. His hands greedily map her curves, gliding over her and checking for scratches and bruises. "Are you hurt?" he breathes, holding her close.
Jo's hands are everywhere. They thread into his hair, press against his shoulders, curl into the back pockets of his blue jeans. She pulls him closer, unable to get enough. "Dean, I'm fine," she murmurs breathlessly.
They devour each other. Each winding the other tighter and tighter. Each burning with need for the other. Neither thinking that now is coming soon enough.
"How are we still wearing all these clothes?" he mumbles, his mouth burning against hers as he begins plucking the buttons from their fastenings. "So soft," he husks, his fingers trailing over the exposed swell of her breasts.
She derails him, stopping his progress long enough to tear his flannel shirt from his shoulders, before they're touching each other again. He's many things, but soft isn't one of them. His big hands are rough. His muscles are firm. And, as he presses against her, he grows harder by the second. "I thought you were mad..." she gasps as he tugs down the cup of her bra, his mouth attaching to her taut nipple.
"I am," he growls, tugging at her shirt. "I was..."
Shrugging out of her blouse, she purrs as he lifts her off the floor. Her legs wrap around him. She teases his mouth with her tongue. Urging him on. Silently begging him to give her release, to once again make her his.
"Jo, baby..." Dean barely recognizes his own voice. He physically aches for her. Aches to feel her under him, over him, any damn way she'll let him. He trails his finger tips over her thigh, her supple skin making him more needy. "I thought I'd lost you..."
"I'm okay," she coos against his ear, her teeth scraping at his lobe. "I'm here..." When he grinds against her she whimpers. "Oh, God. Need you now..." she pants against his mouth.
He stumbles toward the stairs, unwilling to lose the feel of her lips. Unwilling to part from the gentle way she suckles at his, nipping softly and soothing with her tongue. They slam against the wall and he curses his clumsiness.
He cups her face and looks deeply into her eyes. The little mewl that escapes her as his hand caresses beneath her skirt is his undoing. "I don't think I can wait," he says, his tongue tracing her lower lip and demanding access. The tips of his fingers brush against the fabric of her tiny panties as his tongue dances against hers.
Jo pulls his t-shirt over his head and, for a torturous moment, their lips part. He pulls her legs tighter around his waist. She purrs as she nuzzles her cheek against his, her mouth moving to tug his earlobe softly. His knees weaken at her touch and he presses her into the wall. He devours her mouth, greedily swallowing the tiny moans that escape her.
"Dean..." she pants against his lips. His mouth is everywhere his lips can touch. "Oh..." she shifts against him.
The friction of the denim of his jeans against her thighs makes her feel wild and wanton. They've had amazing sex before, but this...this is something else entirely. It's the first time she almost hadn't made it home. It's the first time he didn't know he could protect her. She hadn't listened and it had almost cost him everything.
She moans. "Here? Now?" she asks, feeling his hand slip between them to ease down his zipper.
His hand tangles in her hair and he trails open mouthed kisses over her throat. "I told you I couldn't wait," he growls. And he won't wait. There would be plenty of time for slow and naked later. Right now, what they both needed was a nice, hot...
"Fuck..." she hisses, her teeth scraping his shoulder. "I..." Jo struggles to catch her breath as Dean pins her to the wall. "Need. Now..." She clings to his upper body, her hands mapping the muscular contours of the smooth skin of her shoulders and back.
He mutters a curse of his own as he struggles to support her, his knees threatening to crumble beneath his need. He captures her mouth, his hands pushing her skirt further up. His thumb traces over her and she sucks the tip of his tongue into her mouth. She whimpers when he pushes her panties to the side and aligns himself with her. He rocks toward the wall in a sure stroke. "Oh, God," he moans as he fills her. "So good..."
She can feel her blood racing through her veins. Hear her heart pounding in her ears. The rasp of desire in his voice echos through her body. She feels the ripple of his muscles flexing, feels him holding onto control as he sets a strong rhythm while supporting them both.
"What you do to me," he breaths against her skin. Thrusting deeply, burying the fears he has of his feelings as he takes everything she offers him. Feeling her strength surrounding him, pulling him into her heart. He knows he needs to tell her. He also knows if he says it now it'll sound like complete bull-shit. He kisses her deeply, his hand snaking between them wickedly. He strokes his thumb over her sweet spot and feels her shake, her body clamping around his. "That's my girl," he croons. "Right there," he urges. "Come for me."
She cries out incoherently as he pushes her over the edge, dragging out her pleasure as he struggles to hold back his own climax. He feels her nails digging into his back. Feels his knees buckle all over again. He calls out as he falls against her.
Panting, Dean pushes a lock of hair behind Jo's ear. Suddenly, taking her against the wall feels crass. It's something the old Dean would've done. It feels less than she deserves and he hates himself for it - for not telling her how he feels and taking the time to show her. His fingers stroke over her cheek. "I love you," he whispers.
Jo bites her lip and gazes into his eyes. She swallows at the intensity she sees in the shimmering green pools. "Dean, I..."
He shakes his head and shifts her to the floor, righting her skirt before reaching down to grab his shirt from the floor. He slips the worn flannel around her and zips up his pants before gathering the rest of their clothes and slipping his hand around hers. "Come on," he says, "Let's go to bed."
"I'm sorry," she tells him. Her voice is small and childlike. It tells him that they're on the same page and he wants nothing more than to take her in his arms and shut the world out, putting all this behind them.
Stopping, he turns to face her. His mouth slides tenderly against hers. The kiss is gentle and exploratory. When they part, he brushes his thumb across her lower lip. "Why don't we go upstairs," he husks with a saucy grin, "and you can make it up to me."