You Shook Me All Night Long

She paced around the living room, nearly burning a hole in the floor. Her usual calm, easy going manner had vanished and was replaced with anxiety and frantic obscene murmurings to herself. She was worried that she had gotten dressed up for nothing. But she also worried about other things; what if he had forgotten, what if he couldn't find the place, or worse, what if he was hurt?

It didn't help that the smart ass never answered his phone when she called, either. But still, she waited, rather impatiently. If she knew him like she thought she did, he would waltz through the door, smirk at her, and say something stupid like "you're wearing that?" or "let's skip dinner and go straight to bed, sweetheart." Either one would have been comforting right now.

What was it about him that drove her so mad? Was it those remarkable eyes? Golden hazel, like a wolf's? Or maybe those plump, warm lips that sent shivers up her spine anytime he leaned in and kissed her. It could have been that rough, gravelly voice as well. Or that body, it was so perfect. The strong, smooth chest, those perfect abs, or those arms that made her want to shove him on the ground and have her way with him.

It wasn't just his physique that drove her so crazy. It was also how he could be so childish, but serious at the same time. He could make her laugh like no one she had never known. He was kind, and loving, and he was really protective. He was the guy you could always go to with your deepest secrets, your darkest fears, and he would never push you away. He would be there the second you called.

They had met when she had turned eighteen, he saved her life. She was always a firm believer in things she could see and touch. Not what she could sense, or feel. But he proved to her that things are not always black and white, and she thanked him for that. It was the reason she was still breathing, and was able to blow out twenty one candles. When she saw the ghost of her ex boyfriend materialize in front of her, and slowly trudge toward her in a menacing fashion, her life was changed forever.

But Dean came along, and he was able to keep her out of harms way. The way he completely took control over the situation, how he risked his own life to keep her alive, it was something she could never erase from her memory. And to this day, three years later, she still thought of him constantly.

She wondered if things could ever be more than a quick hang out and hook up before he hit the road. In her heart of hearts, she knew he was the one for her. There had never been another guy since he entered her life. She couldn't find herself remotely attracted to anyone in her town, and she never one thought of going with another guy. Plus, he ruined sex for her. He was like a machine, he could go for hours and never get tired. And the way he held her afterwards, it made everything seem like a fairy tale.

Last week he called and let her know that he was coming back to Omaha on business. He said as soon as it was over he would have an extra day or two to spend with her. He was tracking some kind of trickster that was killing the elderly and needed to put a stop to it. She worried about him, but, it was Dean, he would be okay.

Dean Winchester could never die.

Three hours after he was suppose to arrive, she decided to call his brother, Sam. Her mind had one too many bad scenarios running rampant right now, and it needed to be stopped. The phone seemed to ring continually, which only added to her annoyance. She twirled a lock of her raven black hair around her fingers and growled at the phone. Finally, he answered.

"Quinn, hey! What's up?" Sam asked.
"Where's Dean? Is he alive? Are you guys okay? Oh, God, please tell me y'all aren't in the hospital!"
"Quinn, what are you talking about? Everything's fine. The job is done and Dean and I just had dinner." Sam said, sounding utterly confused.
"Oh you did, did you? Ask him if he forgot something tonight." she hissed.

Quinn's usual cheery voice has turned to stone. Her crystal blue eyes were probably a dark, scary blue. She was shaking and balled her fist, ready to slug him as soon as he walked through the door. He made her panic, think that something happened with his newest hunt. He knew how much she worried, he knew that she had an over active imagination. And that selfish, stupid, boyish asshole decided to grab a fucking bite before even calling her? Oh, it would not end well.

"He's on his way, Quinn.." Sam said, sounding scared.

She changed out of her body hugging black velvet mini dress and heels, into a pair of black paid pajama bottoms and an over sized Marilyn Manson shirt. Her hair was devoid of the curls she spent an hour doing, and placed in a half assed pony tail, and her face was now makeup free. She sat on the couch in complete darkness, seething with anger. The second he walked through that door he was going to get it.

He walked in fifteen minutes later and tried to feel around for the light switch. When he couldn't find one, he called out to her. Quinn had the nastiest temper he had ever seen on a chick, and he had been with plenty of women to witness unspeakable tempers. He had completely forgotten and felt awful, especially since he remembered she was getting all dressed up. He finally found the switch and saw her in her PJ's, sitting on the couch, looking like she wanted to jump him and rip his eyes out. He nervously chuckled, and moved cautiously. Once he reached the side of the couch, she got up and stormed passed him, slamming the door shut.

"You're lucky that car belonged to your dad, because if it didn't, Dean Winchester, it would be DESTROYED right about now!" she screeched.
"Hey now, the Impala did nothing wrong so just relax, woman." he said, regretting those words nearly immediately.

She punched him hard in his stomach and he groaned. She went into the kitchen and started chugging a wine cooler. He took in a few deep breaths before following close behind. He looked at her, so angry, but so sexy at the same time. Now was the worst time to start imagining the things he'd do her, against the back door, on the kitchen floor, having her bent over the kitchen counter while he pounded her from behind. It was all so tempting, and it would be so easy to get her to cave. He would let her get her rage out, and then at the first opportunity, he would make his move.

She glared at him. Why was he still here? She wanted nothing to do with him, and her hand hurt from clocking him in his rock hard stomach. It was like punching a brick wall. She rolled her eyes at him. That smug bastard just stood there, smirking and looking at her from head to toe. He tried to move close to her, but she pushed him away and went to the living room. She plopped down on the couch and turned on the TV. If he wouldn't leave, she would pretend he wasn't there. But, he didn't seem to get the hint.

"Come on, baby, how long are you gonna be mad at me? I mean, at least I'm okay, right?" he grinned while whispering in her ear.
"Fuck off, Winchester." she snarled.

He was growing irritated now. Usually after a few minutes of her incessant glares and obscenities she would break and do whatever he wanted. Then again, he had never forgotten to call her after a job before. It was like this unspoken rule between them. He sighed and went to put his arm around her shoulders, in which she flipped him over the couch.

She was now lying down, smiling and proud of herself. But Dean wasn't having that. He was now pissed off, hungry, and horny. For Dean Winchester, that was a volital mix. He jumped up, snatched the remote and turned it off. The next thing Quinn knew was she was hoisted over his shoulder, kicking and screaming while he went upstairs. He went inside her room and slammed her down on the bed. He kicked the door shut and they glared at each other. His eyes took on this melted golden lava hue, and in that moment, Quinn realized how fucked she was.

Or, actually, was about to be.

He walked over and with one swift movement, yanked her up with her wrist enclosed in his hand. She looked up at him, trying hard not to give in. But the way he was biting his bottom lip, to the lustful look in his eyes, and how his body stood in front of her, unmoving and completely solid, she was melting and quick. He forced his lips hard on hers, and she moaned into the kiss. His hands moved down to her hips, and he squeezed them hard enough that she would have bruises the next day. She sucked on his bottom lip and let her hands wander through his hair, yanking on it every so often. He fell on top of her on the bed and their tongues became engaged in a win or die war.

His tongue slid over every inch of hers, soaking up her saliva and texture, it was so far down her throat he was nearly gagging her. She pulled away and attacked his neck, kissing and biting like she was some blood hungry animal. He returned rough, dry kisses to her neck, down to her collarbone, where he proceeded to nibble on. His hand slid slowly down every curve, every crevice of her body. He began to grind against her, letting her feel his slowly forming boner. She began to whimper when he yanked her hair away from her neck and bit down, hard enough to leave black marks. She was sliding her hands down his perfect, chizzeled chest, down to those abs that she wanted to lick.

He tore her shirt in half, promising to buy her a new one later. All she could do was pant, and mimic a laugh. He was too much for her to handle. She slowly inched his shirt up, and along the way kissed his body. With every sweet kiss came an animalistic grunt deep in his throat. She knew just the thing to do to get him so crazy, so sex driven, that she would not walk for a week. She finally got his shirt off and worked on his shoulders. She rubbed them while adding butterfly kisses, making him shake and pant profane words into her ear.

His hands went up to her breasts, each one fitting perfectly in the palms of his hands. He would squeeze and smirk as she cried out in frustration. He then would proceed to wet his finger while twirling it around her nipple, making them a little wet before he bent down to suck on them. Then his tongue would slide around, and he would nibble, making her arch and scream. He wouldn't let her take control this easily. Her legs were wrapped around his waist and she grabbed his face with her hands, then pressed her lips to his, inhaling his warmth.

Their hip bones were crushing up against each others, knocking back and forth, ensuring pain but pleasure all at once. He finally ripped her sweats off of her in one smooth motion, and then proceeded to kiss down her body. He got down on his knees, and forced her legs apart, far and wide, wide enough to make it hurt. She knew what was coming, and began to grip the sheets, feeling her knuckles hurt and turn white. He smirked and winked at her.

He began to nibble on her inner thighs, the stubble on his chin was sending every feeling throughout her entire body. She could already feel herself getting wet and sticky. He made his way up to her opening, in which he stuck one solitary finger in. He curled that finger, and another and began to pump them inside of her, making sure she was good and lubed up before he began to taste her. She was already whining and begging him to fuck her, but all he could do was mutter the word "patience". Quinn was not a patient woman. After several minutes of his fingers hitting her g-spot, he released his fingers from inside her and let his large, skilled tongue enter her. He played with her clit while his tongue curled inside of her, making her arch and gasp. He had learned a few tricks since his last visit.

The deeper his tongue entered her cunt, the more her body moved. She was nearly sliding off of the silk sheets when he hit her spot. Air was becoming hard to come by, and she was begging him to let her go now. He began to lap up her juices that flowed freely from her body. Her eyes were beginning to roll back in her head and her muscles were contracting. She was so close to losing complete control.

And that's when he stopped.

He stood above her, jeans still on and the biggest bulge she had ever seen on him exposed. He smirked and leaned down to kiss her lips. His tongue locked with hers, giving her a taste of herself. Her nails raked down his back, giving him some of the pain she was feeling. He pulled away, tugging on her bottom lip as he let go.

"Are you sure you want me, Quinn? I could easily leave." he said in that deep, hungry voice.
"Fuck me now, Dean. God, fuck me now." she begged.
"As you wish, slut." he smirked.

He unbuttoned his jeans and she watched as they fell to his ankles. What a perfect day to go commando, she thought. He hovered above her body, the tip of his cock pressed against her opening. Before she could try anything, he pinned her wrists down at her sides, and shook his head no. She was nearly in tears from the pressure and the pounding in her pussy. He could have fucked her sideways and upside down, she wouldn't have cared. This building up bullshit was killing her.

And he finally entered her. Every single, solid inch all at once. She groaned as she felt his full girth inside of her, and she bucked her hips against his. He was sliding in furiously, hard enough to send her upward on to the bed, the sheets had become so slippery from a mix of her sweat and the fact that they were silk it was hard to keep her in one place. There were loud slapping noises from their skin being slicked with sweat, and everytime he entered her, he banged his hip bones against hers, causing a shock to go through every fiber of her being. She arched in to him, hungrily kissing him. His bottom lip was caught between her lips, enjoying every second of their kiss. He threw her against the headboard, and he gained momentum as he began to pound her aching cunt. It felt so good it hurt, and she was nearly screaming his name.

He grunted in her ear, making her squirm under his delicious form. He finally looked down into her eyes, his lips inches from hers, and he smiled.

"You always have been my number one girl, and my number one fuck." he said hoarsely.

The more he went in, the wetter she got. Anytime he penetrated her now, it made a loud squelching noise from the huge amount of cum dripping from her. He was nearing the end of his rope as she sucked on his neck and wrapped her legs around his waist, giving him more of a chance to deeply pound her. It was all too much and she lost all control of her body. She screamed, louder and louder, with each thrust he sent her flying into the headboard, and he tightened up his muscles, and shut his eyes tight.

He let out a massive load of white hot cum, shocking her body to bits. Her muscles contracted around his cock, and she screamed as she released. He kissed her lips to silence her, and she moaned uncontrollably into the kiss.

Once they finished, he collapsed on top of her. He was shaking and panting, and all the while she slid her fingertips through his damp hair, and kissed the top of his head. This was the best sex of her life, and she knew no one could ever top it. He laid there, cradled in her arms, and they were both silent for the longest time.

He always liked to go out with a bang, and he sure as hell did this time.