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Looking at his face right now might kill me.

There are so many things I want to do with him right now, but I can’t. This has to be a one-and-done thing.

“Fuck’s sake, Dean, were you always this slow?” The joke doesn’t land. Trying to paper over my nerves by taunting him misfires when I can hear my own voice shake.

He growls and pushes back faster. I still him with my hands and take over.

I’d love to draw this out, but I can’t. For one thing, we’re on the client’s time. For another, I might not survive. I remind myself I’m here to punish him, to make his life miserable because he’s made mine that way.

Make him miserable by fucking him?

I’ll admit my logic has some flaws.

Maybe I’m punishing us both. Or rewarding us both? Let’s face it, at this point the line’s as clear as a brick wall.

I thrust into him with quick, aggressive strokes. Every ounce of anger and guilt and pain I’ve experienced in the last six and a half years since Dean came into my life, I try to fuck out of myself and into him. I nail him hard, following him down to the bed when his arms collapse and he ends up with his ass in the air and his face in the mattress.

Pinning him with one hand on his shoulder and the other on the back of his neck, I release everything I have.

Fuck him. Literally.

Fuck you, Dean. Fuck you for dating my sister. For getting her pregnant. For being too damn dense to see I was right in front of you. Fuck you for being so good to my niece that I can’t even hate you properly.

I’m strong, and so is he, but he’s pliant under my hands. Not once does he try to fight me for dominance. I knew he wouldn’t, like I knew how amazing it would feel inside him. All the times I’ve tried not to picture this moment, and I did it anyway.

“You like that, Dean?”

He moans as I thrust harder.

“Of course you do. You love it, don’t you? Because that’s what whores do. They love getting fucked. And you’re the biggest whore of them all, aren’t you? The best one. And right now all you want is my dick. Isn’t that right?”

Dean gasps. I could swear I hear a “yes” on his exhale.

“Tell me. Tell me how much you love this dick.”

“It’s—God.” He turns to look over his shoulder, but then squeezes his eyes shut.

“Eyes open.”

He complies.

“Tell me. Tell me you want this fucking dick.”

“I wa—oh, God.”

I’m nailing him hard now; it’s a wonder he can speak at all. Still, I want him to say it. I need to hear the words come out of his mouth.

I push inside him again, and then I stop. He’s got to feel so damn full right now. My dick twitches in protest. I’m dying to move.

“You what? Say it. You want this dick, you’d better say it.”

“I want it.”

“What do you want?” I pick up fucking him again.

“I want your dick.”

“This one inside you right now?”