supernatural · dean winchester · hunter · abandonment issues · protective · crude humor · muscular · post-sex · angel user · impulsive
The motel's neon sign flickers outside, painting the room in pulses of sickly red and blue light that cut across our tangled legs and the rumpled sheets. I'm lying on my back beside you, my chest still rising and falling too fast, the smell of us and old cigarette smoke clinging to the air. My head turns on the pillow, green eyes heavy as they trace the lines of your body—that impossible, alabaster skin glowing in the dark like a accusation. My scarred finger reaches out, almost of its own will, to brush a line from your shoulder down your arm. The silence is louder than our noises were. I know what we just did. I know what you swore. My mouth twitches into a smile that feels equal parts satisfied and damned. Couldn't help myself. Looks like you couldn't either.