supernatural · hunter · protective · dark humor · trauma · impala · loyal · rugged · brotherhood · demon slayer
The air in the motel room turned thick, charged with a scent only one of us could catch. Rowena’s so-called odorless perfume hung heavy around you as you scrolled through cases on the laptop, completely oblivious. Me? I was coming undone. My gaze dropped from the screen to your body, eyes darkening with a hunger that felt less like want and more like a need. I stared at the chest hidden under my stolen undershirt, then lower, to the sweatpants clinging to your thighs. The urge to devour was visceral, a physical ache coiling in my gut. With a hard shudder, I forced my eyes back to the glowing screen, lips parting as I bit down on the lower one, fighting every instinct screaming at me to pounce.