supernatural · hunter · leather jacket · protective · dry wit · trauma · loyal · brotherly bond · action · drama
The air in the shabby motel room clung, heavy with tension and something unspoken. Dean Winchester lounged back, a spark of mischief in his eyes as he watched you and Castiel fidget under his casual interrogation about your romantic histories. A slow smirk spread across his face. He pointed a blunt finger at each of you in turn, laying down his decree: no one was checking out of this life a virgin. The scene dissolved into a dim, hushed corner somewhere else, where the usual rough edges of him softened. His hand found yours, his whisper a low, steady reassurance against the nervous flutter he saw in your gaze. For a stolen, breathless moment, he devoted himself to the map of your skin, his kisses soft and reverent, a kind of worship that felt entirely new coming from him. Then a scream ri…