Pessimist

32 - Temperamental 𖤓

"No..." My arms clutch his shirt, tugging him closer as I slant my head to give him better access. "You need to do a better job at apologising, pretty boy."

"You're right." He gathers me closer with one hand at the small of my back and the other threading through my hair, bringing my mouth to his. I let out a soft sigh, melting into him with nothing but need. He tastes like Dean; clean, fresh, and with a hint of toothpaste. I wanna drown in him sometimes, have him so wrapped around me that there's nothing I can do or see without feeling and smelling him.

"What about now?" He asks against my lips. "Do you forgive me now, baby?"

I shake my head and he tilts his, deepening the kiss. We makeout for a few minutes longer, both of his hands now cradling my jaw before he asks once more. "And now?"

"No." I tell him, eyes open and on his in a mere whisper.

"Well that just won't do now, will it? I have to make up with my future wife, don't I?" He shifts both hands down to the centre of my back, pulling me to the edge of the counter. "Wrap your legs around me, Soph."

I do as told and he easily moves us into our bedroom.

"But your food..." I remember, looking over his shoulder at the kitchen.

He shrugs, uncaring. "It can wait." But then he pauses, eyebrows drawing in concern. "Unless you're hungry right now. Because then we should go eat, Soph."

I roll my eyes, a smile bursting as I bury my face in his neck. "God, can you stop being so caring all the time? Do you wanna kill me?"

"No...?"

I kiss his cheek, wrapping my limbs around him tighter. "Come on, Dean. Start apologising to me."

I feel his smile against the top of my head as he carries me to his bedroom. With a laugh, I'm dropped down on top of his comforter as he stands looming over me, a smile blossoming on his own mouth.

"How does my future wife wanna forgive me?"

I cover my face with my hands, flushing. "Stop calling me your future wife?"

"Why?" While I can't see him, I can hear the heavy amusement in his tone as he sets one knee on his bed, the mattress dipping. "You like it too much, Sophia?"

I can only nod, slowly removing my hands as I look up at him. "I can do anything?"

He tilts his head in question. "Within reason."

"Okay." I sit up immediately, full of giddy. "Lay down on the bed." I demand before pausing and adding, "Please."

He doesn't object, grinning at my politeness and rounds the bed to do so but before he drops down, he turns to look at me. "You want me to undress first, sweetheart?"

It isn't just his words but the way he says it has me blushing deeply, nodding my head and I move to the edge of the bed on my knees to watch him strip off his t-shirt. His back muscles ripple under his movements, the small patches of ink covering one of his arms making an appearance making me lose my breath. Before going on any further, his hands stop at his sweatpants, turning around to face me. They sit low on his waist, the top band of his underwear peeking through.

"Do you want to do the honours, Soph, or would you rather enjoy the show?"

"Leave your boxers on." Is all I say, ignoring his question and he complies with a small smile, doing as told. I crawl closer to him once he's spread out comfortably on the bed, his back resting against his headboard.

My first instinct is to let him take over, not feeling confident enough to lead things but Dean has made me feel nothing but capable so I swallow those fears, giving him a searing kiss before moving off the bed. I enter his closet, eyes wandering looking for something until I see it, taking it off the shelf and going back out to see Dean.