Supernatural - Chapter 45: IF | What If We Hadn't Stopped That Night in Chapter 40 (Patreon)

The second kiss ended with Dean pulling away sooner than Murphy expected.

He was a little breathless, his hands still resting firmly against her lower back. He only moved far enough to leave them both room to breathe again.

Murphy's head swam. That kiss had been considerably more intense than the first.

Her arms remained around his neck. She hadn't realized how ragged her breathing had become until he stopped kissing her.

Dean wasn't exactly composed himself.

It was dark inside the car, but from this distance she could see how wide his pupils had grown. The lips that usually curved in a half-smile were reddened and faintly glossy, making him even more appealing than usual.

Murphy studied his mouth for a couple of seconds and decided she wasn't finished kissing it.

Dean eased his hold on her waist. Rather than moving back, Murphy rested one hand on his thigh.

“Why'd you stop?”

The muscle beneath her palm went taut. That was answer enough.

Murphy wasn't entirely innocent. She understood his reaction at once, and heat rushed all the way to her ears.

Watching her, Dean felt he'd never shown so much restraint in his life.

God. If this kept up, he was going to lose his mind.

For a few seconds, the only sound in the car was their uneven breathing.

Murphy watched the way he fought to keep himself in check, and a wicked little impulse seized her. Without lifting her hand from his thigh, she brushed it lightly across the fabric.

Dean's hand tightened around her waist.

His response was immediate, and her own heartbeat picked up in sympathy.

She knew perfectly well what she'd done.

That was precisely why her cheeks stayed hot. She could still feel the muscle that had tightened under her fingertips, and now an unexpected sense of accomplishment crept in.

So he really was struggling that much.

Knowing that only encouraged her mischievous streak.

Dean looked down at her, his pupils particularly dark and wide in the poor light.

He clearly hadn't expected her to respond to the realization by staying put. He swallowed before he managed to say her name. “Murphy.”

His voice had lost its usual deliberately deep edge. Now it sounded surprisingly gentle.

Her ears burned hotter, but she pretended nothing was happening. “Hmm?”

Of course Dean knew she was pretending.

Only moments earlier, she'd been too embarrassed to meet his eyes. Now she had a hand on his thigh and apparently no intention of removing it.

She was being outrageously provocative, though her scarlet cheeks rather spoiled the image of cool confidence she was trying to project.

Dean couldn't help finding it funny.

“Where'd all this courage come from?”

Murphy was too restless to argue. She leaned in and kissed him again.

Their breathing tangled almost immediately.

In the quiet car, every little sound of their kiss seemed much louder. Murphy was self-conscious at first, but before long she stopped worrying about it.

Sitting sideways in those cramped seats soon became more trouble than it was worth. She broke the kiss and took a moment to catch her breath.

Dean watched her, then let his gaze drift back to her mouth.

Her lips were slightly darker now, still damp from their kisses.

And, of all moments, she chose this one to lick them.

Dean couldn't look away. After kissing her himself, he knew exactly how those lips felt.

Then the mouth he'd been staring at opened. “I told you not to treat me like Joan of Arc.”

Before he could answer, Murphy braced her hands on his shoulders and settled astride his thighs.

They both went very still.

Murphy: “...”

She hadn't given the movement much thought. Only once she'd settled did she appreciate just how precarious her new position was.

The response she'd barely noticed before was suddenly impossible to ignore, even through their clothes.

Her face went scarlet. She tensed and couldn't decide whether she ought to take her hands off his shoulders.

Dean was hardly faring better.

He'd been exercising the last of his self-control, and she'd just made that task infinitely harder.

To make matters worse, she now looked as though she was wondering whether she'd gone too far.

“Are you sure?” Dean asked, looking up at her, his throat painfully dry.

That question made Murphy quiet down, despite the heat still in her cheeks.

He kept his hands on her waist, making no attempt to hurry her answer.

She was sitting on his lap with scarcely any space between them, yet he was leaving the decision entirely to her.

The fluttering in Murphy's chest intensified.

She looked down at him.

They were close enough for her to see the shadows of his lashes and the pupils that still hadn't returned to normal. His hand felt unusually warm against her back, but he kept it steady.

He really was waiting for her.

Somehow, she found his patience even more attractive than the loss of control she'd glimpsed earlier.

“I'm already sitting here,” she whispered.

The corner of his mouth twitched. “That's not an answer.”

Seriously? He chose now to be so particular?

Her cheeks were still on fire, but she wasn't about to retreat.

She slipped back into the passenger seat. “Drive.”

“...What?” Her sudden departure left him momentarily bewildered. The warmth still lingering on his thighs only made the disappointment sharper.

Murphy was still blushing fiercely, and she wasn't going to explain herself.

She tucked her disheveled hair behind one ear and made another attempt at an even voice. “Drive.”

Dean stared at her for a beat before the meaning finally dawned on him.

His smile had barely begun when she warned him, “Laugh and I'm going home.”

“I'm just happy,” he said, starting Baby. The laughter in his voice was unmistakable.

Murphy refused to dignify that with a response and turned toward the window.

They hadn't gone far before Dean remembered the people waiting at Bobby's. He sent Sam a brief message saying that he and Murphy were fine, not to wait up, and that they'd return the following morning.

...

The moment the motel-room door shut behind her, some of Murphy's hard-won nerve deserted her.

It was an ordinary room with the usual motel furniture and lighting that could hardly be called romantic. The most conspicuous thing was the double bed in the middle.

She glanced at it, and her mind helpfully replayed the moment she'd been sitting on Dean's lap barely a quarter of an hour earlier.

Now she understood what delayed embarrassment felt like. Where had she found that kind of courage?

Dean dropped the key on the dresser and turned to find her still rooted by the door.

Her blush had never completely faded, and the quiet only made it more obvious. She hardly looked like the same woman who'd deliberately teased him in the car.

“Only now are you...”

“You'd better not finish that sentence.”

Murphy glared at him, but the bright pink in her cheeks robbed the warning of its effect.

Dean swallowed the rest of his remark, though he still couldn't suppress his smile.

That only irritated her more.

She'd been nervous a moment ago, but his grin rekindled the competitive streak she'd discovered in the car.

She crossed the room, seized the front of his jacket, and tugged him toward her.

Dean obligingly bent his head. “What is it?”

She answered by rising onto her toes and kissing him.

After the interruption between the car and the room, kissing him again somehow made every sensation more vivid.

Her lips had still been faintly numb. They clearly hadn't recovered, because they started tingling again the instant they touched his.

Dean's hand went to her waist almost automatically.

After another moment of kissing him, Murphy remembered her plan. Keeping hold of his jacket, she took two steps forward.

Dean retreated under her insistence until the backs of his legs met the mattress.

Understanding flashed in his eyes, followed by open amusement. He didn't interfere, merely allowing her to push him down onto the bed.

Murphy was a little surprised by how obedient he was being.

Dean looked up at her, his hand still at her waist, apparently waiting to see what she would do next.

After a few seconds under that gaze, Murphy decided there was no way she could lose now.

She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Lie down.”

Dean lifted an eyebrow.

“Really?”

She pressed a little harder.

He let himself fall backward onto the bed, ruffling his hair against the covers.

Murphy looked down at him for a couple of seconds and felt absurdly pleased.

Dean Winchester always acted as though he knew exactly what he was doing and could handle anything. Yet here he was, letting her pin him to a bed.

Admittedly, he was cooperating of his own free will. That was beside the point. The result was what mattered.

The instant she began to smile, he noticed.

“Feeling pretty pleased with yourself?”

“Nope.”

“Your face says otherwise.”

She couldn't be bothered to argue. Instead, she climbed onto the mattress, braced a knee on either side of him, and kissed him again.

The position was far more comfortable than the one in the car, and far more dangerous.

Dean had nowhere to retreat now. He lay back and let her kiss him. With one hand planted beside his shoulder for balance, Murphy traced her other hand down his jacket to his chest, feeling his solid build through the material.

For some reason, she almost laughed.

Even fully dressed, he obviously had a great physique. But actually resting a hand against him like this was an entirely different experience.

Dean soon realized what she was doing.

“Had enough yet?”

Her lips were still close to his when she answered with complete honesty. “Not even close.”

He chuckled softly, and she felt the movement of his chest beneath her hand.

That only made her more curious.

Her hand drifted a little lower, toward his waist.

Dean had been content to indulge her until then. As her confidence grew, he finally caught her wrist.

Murphy raised her head. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Then let go.”

Dean held her gaze.

She stared right back.

A few seconds passed before she noticed that his expression had changed.

Much of his indulgent smile had disappeared. His eyes remained dark, and his breathing was still far from calm.

Murphy belatedly realized that she'd been playing with fire again.

But tonight she had no intention of behaving herself.

“You told me to make sure,” she reminded him quietly. “Well, I'm sure.”

His hold loosened a fraction, and she immediately slipped her wrist free.

Then, quite deliberately, she patted his chest.

“So lie still.”

Dean blinked, then burst out laughing.

“Murphy...”

“No laughing.”

“I just thought...”

She leaned down and stopped his protest with another kiss.

At last, blessed silence.

This time, she took the initiative more boldly than before. Dean certainly knew his way around romance, but being pinned to a mattress and forbidden to speak was probably a rare experience for him.

The more Murphy kissed him, the more she enjoyed it. By degrees, even the nerves she'd felt when they entered the room faded away.

Eventually, she lifted herself a little to breathe. Dean remained beneath her, his eyes following her every movement.

His lips were red again from her kisses, and the intensity of his gaze was almost unfair.

A peculiar sense of triumph warmed Murphy's chest.

“So who's the brave one now?” she asked.

Dean was quiet for two seconds. Then he smiled.

Murphy suddenly had a very bad feeling.

“I think,” he said slowly, “I've let you have your fun long enough.”

Murphy: “...”

She instinctively tried to move back, but the man who'd been lying so obediently finally stirred.

Dean settled his hand at her waist again and gently drew her closer, closing the distance she'd just created. Murphy immediately felt the consequences of all her teasing, and heat climbed into her face once more.

Dean looked at her.

“My turn.”