An Arranged Marriage

Chapter 23

After a long day of research, you couldn't stop yawning. Rubbing your eyes, you tried reading the next page, your eyes blurring, the words making no sense. "Come on, let's get you to bed," Dean insisted, rubbing your shoulders as he stood behind you.

"But I need to find a spell," you whined, needing to find something so Dean would feel better about you facing Lucifer on your own. "I need...."

"You need sleep," he argued, pulling your chair away from the table, closing the book. "You need to rest, and so do I. Especially if you're facing Lucifer."

Too tired to argue, you peered up at him, your eyes blinking furiously.

"Come on," he told you, leaning forward and scooping you up in his arms. Sam had already gone bed, his door closed, no light seeping through. Bypassing your room, Dean went straight for his, pushing the door open with his hip, stopping just inside the door. "I hope this is okay. But I figured we're married now, and I'd rather have you with me, then in your own room," he stammered, until you reached up, cupping his cheek.

"This is more than okay," you assured him. "But all of my clothes are in my room."

"You can just borrow a shirt," he offered, placing you on his bed before turning to his dresser. Taking out one of his black shirts, he handed it to you.

Holding it against your chest, you fiddled with the soft fabric, wondering exactly how this was going to go. Dean was so much more experienced than you, and while you wanted this, you were still nervous. "Y/N, just because I want you to sleep in here with me doesn't mean I'm expecting more. I know your life has been sheltered, and you need time, and I..."

"No, I want this!" You exclaimed, peering up at him. "I want to be your wife, in every way. I just don't want to disappoint you."

Kneeling in front of you, Dean took your hands in between his. "Y/N, you'll never be a disappointment to me. Just being with you, it's enough. Sure, I want to show you the pleasures that can happen between a man and a woman. But I also want you to be comfortable. I don't want to ruin this bond that is growing stronger between us each and every day."

"Dean, why are you so nice to me?" You whispered, reaching up and cupping his cheek, amazed at how gentle this tough hunter could be. "You were saddled with me, and I've caused you nothing but trouble. Yet, you're always trying to make me feel comfortable, and comforted."

"Because I really want this to work between us," he admitted. "I never thought I'd have a wife, let alone one that I actually cared for. Sure, hunter's in communities marry, have kids. I just never thought that would be me. So I want to take this opportunity I've been given, make sure that you have the good marriage you deserve."

Overwhelmed by his words, you did the only thing you could think of. Closing the distance between you and Dean, you hesitantly pressed your lips to his, soft and unsure.

Dean's hand moved from yours, moving to cup the back of your neck, taking control of the kiss. "Are you sure?" He asked you, pulling away for a minute. Nodding your assurance, you waited for his next move. Standing up, he pulled his shirt over his head, leaving his chest bare to your view. His gaze never leaving yours, he reached for his belt buckle, slowing undoing his jeans and sliding them down his slim hips.

Your mouth suddenly dried, you stared at Dean, waiting for his next move. Leaving his boxers on, he came forward, kneeling once again in front of you. Taking your face between his palms, he began peppering light kisses across your nose, cheek, everywhere but your lips. Giggling, you took his shoulders in your hands, reveling in the smooth skin underneath your touch. "Dean!"

"What?" He teased, his lips moving south, towards your neck. His hands left your cheeks, reaching down to play with the hem of your shirt before lifting it up, over your head, leaving you in your plain white cotton bra. "Beautiful," he whispered against your skin, his mouth skimming down your skin to run against the swell of your breast. The calluses of his fingertips were rough against your skin as he brought them up your sides, bringing them around your back, settling on the clasp of your bra. "Still okay?" he asked, as he pressed little open mouthed kisses to the top of your breast.

"More than okay," you assured him as he undid your bra, pulling it from your body and tossing it to the floor behind him.

Moving his head down, he captured your nipple between his lips, running his tongue around it, sending bolts of electricity rushing through your body, every nerve on point. A moan, nothing like you'd ever let out before slipped past your lips as you clasped onto the sheets beside you, needing something to hold on to.

"You like that?" He asked, his green eyes peering up at you before moving his attention to your other nipple, his other hand coming up to massage your breast. Leaning back on your elbows, you enjoyed the talented touch of his fingers and his tongue, tensing up when his other hand began playing with the waistband of your leggings, skimming the skin underneath. "Shh, it's okay," he whispered against your skin before leaning back, smiling up at you. "Lift your hips up."

Knowing you would do whatever he said, you lifted your hips up, only for him to pull your leggings and underwear down at the same, tossing them behind him before glancing over your naked body, licking his lip. "You are beautiful," he stated, his hand coming up to brush against the scar on your side. "What happened here?" He asked you.

Glancing down at the jagged scar, you couldn't control the frown that settled on your face. "It happened during one of the school activities," you started to explain. "It was guys against girls, and this one guy, Taylor was his name. He decided to corner me out on the training field, try to take advantage."

You could literally feel how tense Dean was above you as you started to tell your story, and you hated to ruin the playful, passionate moment the two of you had been sharing. "I, well... you know how I am. I was nervous, and scared, and he was so much bigger than me."

"Y/N, he didn't...," Dean didn't finish his sentence, and you shook your head, relieving him.

"No, I grabbed a knife that was behind me, slashing it down, laying open the skin of his arm. It pissed him off, and he attacked me, giving me this, and laying me up in bed for almost a month."

"And let me guess, your Dad believed it to be your fault," Dean grumbled low in his throat, his hand softly rubbing against the scar.

"Yes, he did. I was punished, but not like like before. I was made a lesson, to each and every student at our small school. To remind them, and myself that liaisons weren't allowed. That they would be punished." Just the thought of it had a shiver running up and down your spine.

"How the hell did they punish you?" He spoke soft, his jaw clenched.

"Do you remember the scarlet letter?" You asked him, and he shook his head. "Well, it's a book, about an outcast who has to wear a letter A because she was considered an adulteress. It was the same for me, a bright red letter S, to let everyone know I was considered the slut of school."

"That's bullshit!" Dean yelled. "And what happened to the man?"

"He became the sheriff of our town. But I guess he's dead now," you muttered, before turning your pain filled gaze to Dean. "That's all in the past. I don't want to worry about it anymore. I just want to have this moment, tonight with you. Before we have to deal with Lucifer and the possible end of the world."