Need. Have you ever needed person so bad you could taste it ? Has the burning of whiskey or the warmth of just any body ever not quite been enough ?

pauperism has been building in James Byron Dean Winchester for a piece. And the closer he gets to checking out, the harder it 's becoming for him to resist. What was a little over a hundred mil when it meant seeing an old friend ?

It 's been almost a year since the finale time. Since the clip he told her he 'd call and had n't. What do you say to the woman your brother attacked while possessed ? Not that she would n't or did n't understand, because she was a hunter. A very Green River one, but a hunter nonetheless. And there are things you know when you 're a hunter. Things you just get.

It 's been months since he made the deal. His life history for Sam 's. He does n't rue it. He could n't. The ice in his chest being without his comrade even for a little time stung so bad he knew he 'd never make it alone.

But Sam could. Sam could make it without him. He could go on. Go back to school. Have a life history. The kind of life James Byron Dean knows his brother desperately wants. A life that does n't involve hunting. He does n't know how to do anything else. How to be anything else. But Sam does.

The thing about it is, as the hebdomad drag into months, he knows he ca n't leave this earthly planer without talking to her. Without seeing her and telling her the the true. Because she 'd observe out anyway ... and should n't she take heed it from him ?

Needing her - needing to see her, needing to evidence her - Dean wildness Sam asleep in a motel room without so very much as a note. It 's dazed. Sneaking up on a Harvelle fair sex - breaking into her quad - is n't ever a good idea.

But that does n't give up him. The foolishness of something rarely stops him in his caterpillar tread. He looks around her apartment for what will probably be the first and final clip. There is n't a good deal. It 's sparsely decorated. It looks more like a position to landed estate than actual living space.

He hates it. Resents any reminder that things are n't normal for them. That things 'll never be rule for them. Not as long as there are demons to go after and monster to get rid of.

That 's when he feels it. The poke of the rifle against his spine.

'' Dammit, Jo, '' he huffs, shaking his caput. `` What 'd I enjoin you about putting a rifle directly on a man 's back ? ``

Reaching out she flicks on the twinkle, flooding the kitchen in a indulgent gleaming. `` Dean ? '' she asks, seeing the familiar hang of his leather crown. `` Is it really you ? ``

He turns around. Slowly and with his manpower in the air unthreateningly. He grins at her.

'' in force overlord, you 're a muss, '' she says taking in the laceration that rips across his forehead. It reminds her of when they met. Only this one is shallow. Keeping the gun trained on him, she flicks her nous in the guidance of the cabinet to his right. `` Vodka nursing bottle, second shelf. ``

'' Uh, Jo, '' he says, lowering his manpower and shaking his heading. `` I did n't come here for a swallow. ``

She chambers a round. `` And I did n't offer you one. ``

actualisation morning. holy place piss. just missy. He pulls the nursing bottle out and unscrews the cap. He sighs and takes a big sip knowing the next footmark in the process. ash grey. `` Where 's the knife ? ``

Jo reaches into the drawer at her hip. She pulls out the weapon and slips it across the counter. She watches as he removes his jacket and rolls up his sleeve. Watches as he slices across his forearm. Clicking on the safe, she gasps in surprised backup man and throws herself into his arms. `` It 's really you ... ''

At the sudden recognition of what she 's done, she withdraws almost shyly and chief toward the refrigerator. `` Where 's Sam ? ``

dean 's eyes dip to the floor and he rubs his nose. `` I left him passed out in a motel elbow room ... '' he pauses, wincing because he knows his brother will flip out. `` ... in Wisconsin. ``

That 's when it hits her. She 's in her jammies. A thinly tank top and gabardine pants, her tomentum in a escaped ponytail from when she washed her face. She sits at the kitchen table and draws her knees up to blank out her chest. She snorts. `` I thought the two of you were inseparable. ``

James Dean ignores the barb. Picking up the beer she set out for him, he takes a farseeing drunkenness. Nothing like a little fluid courage and he 'd need all the help he could get.

Jo watches him stiffen. Her heart begins to pound sterling faster in her dresser. `` He 's all right, right ? ``

He gulps and takes another sip of his beer before dropping into the chair next to her. `` Yeah, he 's fine, '' he answers with a undulation of his hand. His eye fall to the floor. He leans forward, resting his elbow on his articulatio genus. There was no easy way to do this. `` But I 'm not. ``

She blinks and picks up her own beer. `` What do you mean you 're not ? ``

'' I got five calendar month left, Jo. '' He rips the Band-Aid right hand off. Does n't render her prison term to ask, just launches right into the story. He tells her about Sam 's death. Tells her about the deal with the crossroads ogre. Tells her instead of ten years, he only got one. Tells her everything.

Except why he 's there. Except that he had to see her again, even if it was only one last time. `` And I just ... ''

'' I wish you 'd said something Oklahoman. That we had Thomas More time, '' she mutters.

She does n't wait for him to say anything. She needs to be busy. want to do something with her men to stem the flow of emotion flooding through her, so she gets up and starts shuffling around. She opens cabinets and slam them shut. She pulls out antiseptic and rinses a textile with warm water. weeping burn the backs of her eyelid as she comes back to the table.

Silently, she begins to scavenge him up. She wipes the fabric over his forehead, cleaning the scrape. She does the Lapplander with the spot on his arm. `` We 'll determine a way, '' she tells him. `` We have to. ``

Dean stills her manpower and pulls her down into his lap. `` It 's too tardy, '' he says softly. `` It 's done. There 's no way out. ``

Her Bourbon dynasty colored gaze becomes glassy. She hits him, pushing hard against his chest. `` You selfish bastard. How could you ? ``

'' Jo, he 's my crony. It 's my job to protect him, '' he tells her, his voice a low growling as he grabs at her wrists.

'' What about the respite of us ? '' she demands, her phonation slicing him more painfully than the ash gray. `` What about the multitude who love you ? ``

Dean shakes his headspring. `` That 's a short leaning, sweetheart, '' he answers, still holding her. `` Besides that, Sam can be somethin'. Somethin'early than a hunter. ``

Wrenching away from him, she grabs the movement of his shirt, tears already streaming down her face. `` What about me ? '' she asks softly.

'' Jo ... '' He starts to contradict her. To recount her she could n't possibly. That she 's too young - too inexperienced - to have a go at it. But her eyes sparkle and it 's not from moisture.

Without hesitating, she captures his mouth. The osculation is searching. It 's inexperienced person and it 's athirst. It 's dull and it 's testing. When he does n't immediately press her away, she advances. Her tongue tangle with his and she moans when his implements of war wind around her.

He feels his body tighten in response. He knows he should blockade. Knows that it 's wrong. Knows he ca n't do this. Not to her.

He forces her to be still. His manus run down her weapon where they loop around his cervix. Closing his eyes, he pulls back. `` Jo, '' he pleads. `` Wait ... I ... ''

She wears a determined looking. `` dean, '' she says, her voice tight. `` Suck it up. We can make this is n't what you came for or you can just ... ''

'' It is n't, '' he starts. `` Well, it was but ... '' He ca n't reckon at her. Ca n't tell her that he 's not certain he can go through with it now. Not when he knows how she feels.

Jo shifts to straddling him. She flicks her tongue over his pulsing full stop and clout lazy circles up the communication channel of his cervix. Her teeth scrape lightly as she nips teasingly up to his ear. `` I want you, '' she tells him. `` Whatever that means. Even just for tonight. ``

His heart pounds in his spike. Every move she makes pours kerosine on the flame of his arousal. It sparks him on. Makes him want. Her. All of her.

The lowest thing he needs is to give Ellen Harvelle a reason to put his nuts in a mason jar. But Ellen is n't here tonight. And, in the wrestle great deal that has become his life, he 's sure of one thing : even if she was, it 'd be Thomas More than Charles Frederick Worth it for the way Jo is kissing him. The way her tongue ghosts its way over his lips and into his mouth.

'' Are you sure ? '' he asks breathlessly.

Jo bites her lip and nods. `` I want you, '' she tells him. `` I have since we met. ``

His paw span her tiny waist as his mouth finds hers. He tries to keep on it slowly. To feel everything. Soft and steady. Like putting kindling on a budding flame to help oneself it build.

But her nimble piddling fingers slip under his shirt to tease against his abdomen. Her lingua flickers out to caress his. She works him up fast than anyone he 's been with.

His hands roam up her back, pulling her finish as their lips engross in a dire tango. He wants her cloaked around him. Wants to feel all the position they can coordinate. deprivation to connect.

Shakily, he stands. He sits her on the edge of the table just long enough to drag her branch around him. Just long enough to slip his script from the humble of her binding to the bender of her bottom. He moans at the way she fits against him.

He stumbles blindly out of the kitchen and across the living elbow room. When Jo sucks on his lower lip, pulling ever so lightly at it with her teeth, he falters and they slam into the rampart with a shared grunt.

Using the leverage, Dean pins her there. He cups her nerve and assaults her mouth, sucking and nibbling at her sass until she whimpers. He rocks into her, lets her feel how turned on she makes him. How often he wants her - needs her.

He hitches her a little high-pitched, his tongue laving along her collarbone as he tugs the strap of her top off her shoulder. A rough hand palms her breast, teasing at the nipple before his mouth closes over the bud. She moans, arching into him - arching into his mouth - her finger's breadth twining in his hair. It 's almost his undoing.

'' Bedroom ? '' he growls at her, his lip and handwriting continuing on their quest. He wants to know what drives her mad. Wants to feel all the petty trigger points to score her wiggle. Under him. Over him. All around him.

Jo gasp, unable to reply. She ca n't focus. Ca n't consider. All she wants to do is experience. Everything. `` End of the hall, '' she finally manages, tugging eagerly at his t-shirt. `` hastiness. ``

The breathy way she says it makes the hair on his neck stand on end. He shudders under the increasing system of weights of their need. He feels awkward in a way he has n't felt in years. Clumsy as if it 's the low metre. It shakes him up. Startles him. Makes him wonder.

But not enough to stop. God, he could n't arrest now if his life depended on it. Could n't hold back now ... unless she asked him to. He would. He 'd do it. In a heartbeat. And he 's sure it 'd be worse than the flame of Dante 's Inferno to try and take the air away from her. hellhole, just leaving her to go back to Sam was gon na be ...

James Dean knows he ca n't see her again. Doing so will beshrew them both. He knows he has to make this reckoning. Knows he has to impart her something she 'll remember. Knows he has to give something he can dribble with him when he walks away.

Jo 's mouth sears along Dean 's neck opening as he pushes away from the wall. The bump into the early side of the hall and she laughs as a impression falls and the shabu shatters. He freezes and she kisses him. Slow and trench. Hot and wet. `` pull up stakes it ... ''

Pushing through the door, he locates the bed. He eases her down, loth to part with her lips. He needs the igniter. Needs to see her. Needs to see all of her.

Their oculus meet in the glow of the lamplight and he wonders why it 's taken him so long to really discover her. Wonders if she could have been his whiskey, his comfort, his lifeline.

He still does n't rue the spate. Does n't regret saving Sam. What he regrets is not having more sentence. Here. With her. ruefulness that he 's standing there looking at her flushed skin and snog well up lip, her haphazard clothing and bared knocker, rather than taking action.

reaching for her he tugs off her tank top, kissing her shoulder joint as she arcs her spine. He pulls the rubber band from her fuzz, freeing her satiny gold tresses into his fingerbreadth. Angling her sass, he eases her bolt down onto the pillow with a blazing candy kiss. His spit swirls around hers, pulling it into his mouth. He suckles at it teasingly before turning his attention to her body.

He kisses his way down her chest, mapping the delicate bend of her dead body in his mind. Her breasts are lowly, but not so small that they disappear when she lays on her back. Her skin is soft and her stomach is tight. He skims his lingua into her umbilicus and smiles when she giggles girlishly.

He lifts her hip, hooking his fingers in the shapeless white of her pants and the cotton panties they cover. He eyes the lean muscles of the legs that gripped him earlier. He sees a piffling freckle on her inner thigh. One he wants to suit intimately introduce with.

shifting away, he toes out of his shoe and wind cone. Smirking, he leaves his knickers on and moves back in clip to keep Jo from shifting her posture. She 's redress where he wants her. Naked. In the middle of her unmake bed. The look he shoots her is predatory and he watches her swallow and figure out her lips.

Dean rubs one ankle and up her calf before repeating the action at law. His fingertips glide in featherlight circles over her tegument, making her frisson. His rima oris skims her knees and inner thighs as he moves to finalise between her legs.

Smooth skin of her legs sliding over his shoulders, he flattens his knife over the lentigo. He sucks at that spot, wanting to leave her a mark somewhere that was only for the two of them. Somewhere only they knew about.

'' Dean ... '' she moans, clawing at him

The rough way she handles him makes him feel thoroughly. animated. It reminds him that he 's not abruptly yet. That he has so practically to endure for - so lots to do - tonight. He gives her what she wants because, frankly, it 's what he wants, too.

That first taste of her - that firstly spark of his tongue against her sweet spot and the way she clings to him - would forever be lodged in his brain. The savour of her arousal excites him and makes his organic structure tense. Her finger in his fuzz as he devours her - the way she tugs him closer - is exquisite.

Jo pants for air, her substructure slipping against James Byron Dean 's rachis as she tries to win adhesive friction. Tries to get closer to his sassing as he drives her to the detail of no return. She 'd known he 'd be sound. She 's heard the lecture. Heard the whispers. Experiencing it was something else entirely.

Everything goes white. smart as a whip and acute as heat paste through her. She 's vaguely aware of the way he continues his ministrations, bringing her belt down slowly before pushing her toward another magnificent meridian with his fingers and his tongue.

She ca n't necessitate it. It 's almost too a great deal. It feels too sound. Needing to be in ascendancy, she wrestles him up to her mouth. She kisses him, nuzzling her nose against his as she forces him onto his back.

Jo takes her metre as she whispers candy kiss over his pectus. She explores level masculine tit. She traces reverently over cicatrix with the wind of her knife and fingertips. Several of them she recognizes as wounds that could have ended his life. Wounds that could have kept her from even meeting him, let alone parcel this moment.

Not wanting to brood, she tugs at his fly, opening his jeans and taking them down with the Lapp care he 'd used to remove her clothes. Commando. Well, that 's a naughty development.

Tossing the Saint Matthew the Apostle 's divagation she creeps slowly up his dead body, allowing the gentle sway of her tit to brush against his legs. She teases him with her mouth until he growls and pulls her over him. feverish and naked, they melt against each other. Mouths plundering, hired hand searching, legs twisting together.

'' Condom, '' he husks, his mouth moving to her pharynx as he pushes her into the mattress. His mitt grope at her, unable to get enough of the flavor of her body.

She arches into his touch, avidly seeking the heat of his skin. Her eyes flicker briefly to the side. `` Drawer, '' she murmurs.

Mouth scalding and desperate as it attaches to hers, he thrashes for the knob without looking. His capitulum perk when he hears it creak open and he pulls away just long enough to get his hand inside.

His fingers close around something charge card and cylindrical. Something he 's surely vibrates. Something he almost wishes he had more clip to play with. He laughs, his knucks brushing against the prize he seeks.

His teeth scrape lightly along her jaw as he nips at her before following with the stubbled graze of his own as his mouth teddy to her ear. `` Tell me, '' he utters as he dons the protection. `` Have you ever thought about me when you 've used it ? ``

Jo 's eyes darken and whirlpool with confusion as she looks up at him. `` I ... ''

dean stares at her mouthpiece, flicking his knife over the bud at its center. `` The vibrator, Jo, '' he says as he spatial relation himself. `` The one we both know is in there. ``

Her eyebrow lifts playfully as a blush creeps across her cheeks. `` Maybe, '' she answers softly

'' You will now, '' he demands, sliding against her. He pushes forward gently. One teasing inch at a time.

She purrs as his paw strokes her hip and encourages her leg around him. `` Quite possibly ... ''

Dean thrusts shallowly, grinding into her slowly. `` You will, '' he growls against her pharynx, his mouth vesiculation against her pulsation point. `` Every ... '' -thrust- `` ... time ... '' -stroke- `` ... you ... '' -stroke. Deeper and harder. Steady and dour. He takes. Or, rather, he gives.

'' Oh ... '' she whimpers, her toes curling. `` Oh, God, Dean ... ''

Pulling her tighter, he immerses himself in her. Gets lost in the way her soundbox moves and clenches around his. `` That 's right, '' he instructs, varying the volume again. `` Every. time. You. Come. ``

The rhythmic way he takes her makes her shatter. She clings to him, her eyes shut tightly as he continues to move. She ca n't get close enough. Ca n't feel enough of his consistence. Enough of the durability he uses to hold back. The military posture he uses to give her everything.

Jo scratches her nails lightly along Dean 's thorn. She wraps her legs around him. Her heart squeezes painfully in her chest. This is the for the first time, finale and but time she 'll be with him. The lone fourth dimension she 'll ever experience the way she does in this moment.

She ca n't charge him with opinion. Ca n't smash everything they 've had tonight. It 's hers to give birth. Hers to own and overwhelm in. He 's got 5 calendar month left, but she can already feel him slipping away.

Continuing to rock against her - into her - he ask breathlessly, `` Did you intend it ? ``

Her eyes widen as she looks up at him. It 's almost as though he 's reading her mind - reading her tenderness - and knows. Cupping his face, she nods and kisses him slowly. She holds his gaze and is surprised by his request.

'' Say it, '' he begs. `` Tell me. I need to pick up it ... ''

'' I love you, '' she whispers, meeting his poking. He 's gone mysterious, his face damp - whether from tears or sweat she 's timid - against her berm when she says it again, louder this fourth dimension. `` I love you. ``

Never one to cuddle, he stays with her. Holding her tightly, he breathes her in and pressing soft buss to her hairline. He 's on borrowed time. He needs to get back. rachis to Sam and the railroad train wreck that has become his lifetime. He should n't throw dragged Jo into it. Should n't make brought her down with him.

Her eyes are closed as she lounges against his thorax. Her fingers rub soothing lot on his cutis. It 's her bit to play mindreader as she feels him tense in her weaponry. `` Do n't even think about it, Dean-O, '' she tells him.

'' It 's not bazaar to you, '' he answers, his sleeve tightening further.

'' Maybe not, '' she agrees. `` I would n't change having you here. ``

Seemingly satisfied, he quiets and Jo settee against him. She savors the sentence she has left. The heavy pillow of his chest beneath her headland. The beating of his heart beneath her ear and his breather as it stirs her whisker. The time be there, warming her bed, grows shorter with each passing second.

She knows he 'll be gone when she wakes up. Knows this was it. That she wo n't see him again. Knows that the next time she hears of him will be finding out he really is gone.

She swallows the lump rising in her pharynx. Then there 's the thing she wished she did n't get it on. The thing that 's the hardest to admit. That he 'll be taking her centre with him ... and that there 's no way in hell on earth she 'll ever get it back.

Coming Soon : Hell 's Aftermath - Back from netherworld, James Dean is tortured by nightmare. Jo comforts him. Featuring Vulnerable ! Dean..