California Dreamin'

She was right.

But I was also born with something else. I was born with love.

Love for this man.

I was born with love for Dean and now that I have him in my arms, I’ll never let him go.

No matter what we face when we reach New York tomorrow.

I’ve always loved New York.

You know how people say that they love the energy of it? It’s true. There’s something in the air, the smell of it, the feel.

It feels like home.

Which I guess shouldn’t be a surprise because this is where I was born. This is where I grew up, in the suburbs a couple of hours outside of the city.

There are open grounds around my house, all green and lush with trees and shrubbery. When it rains, everything shines and looks fresh. It’s my and my mom’s favorite thing about the house: the open grounds.

My dad built it for her. Well, he bought it and then renovated it.

It’s a part of their love story, see. Living in a castle-like house. My mom, the Snow Princess and my dad, the Ice King.

This is the first time I’ve been home since I left for California a few months ago to start my freshman year.

The day I left I convinced myself that it was only temporary. That my mom’s tears and my dad’s bunched-up face while I walked through airport security were also temporary. That one day I’d come back for good. One day I’d come back with Dean and we’d start our life here.

Where we grew up and eventually fell in love with each other, even though we didn’t acknowledge it.

Today as I sit in his car that I’ve been traveling in for the past five days, I have more than the mere thought.

I have more than the fantasy.

I’m in New York and my dream is sitting right next to me, holding my hand on his thigh. His fingers are wrapped around mine in a tight grip.

A really, really tight grip.

But I think that’s me. I think I’m the one crushing his large, strong hand with my tiny one.

Maybe because even though my dreams have come true and Dean is here with me, I’m not comfortable as I normally would be.

I don’t feel the same liquid warmth spreading through my veins at the sight of my home. In fact, I’m cold and jittery and I know it’s not because I’m in New York where winter actually is winter.

“Hey.”

Dean’s voice echoes in the interior of his car and I look away from my home.

“Hey,” I whisper to him, studying his face.

His beautiful face with royal features. A stunning structure of bones. A magnificent work of lines and peaks and valleys.

“You okay?” he asks in that deep voice of his.

Deep and made of thick honey, I think.

It was powerful before—it has always been powerful, if I really think about it—but its power has become almost cosmic since last night.

Since he used that voice while he was inside of me.

I clench my thighs. “Yes.”

He isn’t convinced. His eyes flick over my features like he’s trying to figure out all my secrets.

That’s the thing though. I don’t have any, not from him.

Not anymore. Especially not after last night.

Dean traces the curve of my cheek with his finger. “Does it hurt still?”

I’m probably going all red right now. He can probably watch it happen, my skin turning pink right under his digit that he’s using to draw circles on my cheek.

The knowledge of it is reflected in his glinting eyes. They’re both intense and sort of smiling at the same time.

I shake my head because my voice is failing me.

“No?”

“No,” I whisper, my fingers tightening their grip even more around his hand. “I just…”

“You just what?”

“I just feel it,” I reply, squirming in my seat and clenching my thighs again, which he notices.

I lower my eyes then because his have become full with images of last night and this morning.

Not that we had sex this morning. Dean wouldn’t. He thought I was too sore, which was correct but that didn’t mean that I wanted him to refrain.

I’ve already fucked up and had you twice last night, Tiny. You need time to recover.

That’s what he told me, that he had me. It made me squirm the same way I’m squirming now, like I’m something to eat up, something to sink his teeth into and devour.

After that comment of his, I declared that I’d recovered. That he could check it if he wanted and he did check it. He went down and his examination turned into something really erotic with tongue and lips and maybe even his teeth on me.

After he fed on me, it was my turn. Not to feed on him though, but to feed on the meds. He ran out and got me pain medication. And since he’s so familiar with my anti-depressants, he knew which brand of pain medication to buy.