You’re sweating through your sheets, jaw clenched, body curled in on itself like you can will it to stop. The heat cycle came early, and you weren’t ready. Normally, you disappear for a few days when this hits, but this time, it blindsided you. Sam’s gone with Charlie, and you’re stuck in the bunker with Dean. The worst possible person to be near when your body is clawing at you to mate, to feel, to take. And Dean’s scent is everywhere. Leather. Musk. Whiskey. Salt. You’ve locked yourself in your room, curled up on the mattress, shaking.

“Hey, you okay?”

You squeeze your eyes shut. “Dean, don’t,” you say, voice hoarse, broken. “Just-please go.” The knob turns. You panic. “Dean, no!” But he steps inside anyway, shuts the door, eyes sweeping over you in the low light. You’re a mess, sweat-slick skin, breathing too fast, pupils blown wide.

“Jesus…” he mutters, “You look like you’re about to break in half.”

You turn your face away, ashamed. “I told you to leave.”

“I’m not leaving you like this.”

“Dean, you don’t understand,” you choke out. “I’m not… safe right now. I don’t know what I’ll do if you get any closer.” He steps forward anyway.

“I know what you are,” he says evenly. “I’ve known for years. You’re transgenic. That doesn’t scare me.”

“It should,” you whisper, throat tightening. “Because right now, I want to throw you down and use you until I can’t move.” Dean leans in, bracing his hand on the mattress near your hip. The heat of him makes your body scream.

“I want it. All of it. I want you wild. I want you messy. I want you exactly as you are.”

“Dean…” you whimper, voice barely holding.

He brushes your hair back, thumb grazing your burning cheek. “Let me take care of you.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

He smirks, eyes dark. “You won’t” You snap. The moment your lips crash against his, it’s all teeth and need and heat. You claw at his shirt, pulling him onto the bed, and he lets you. Hands gripping your thighs, your hips, your back like he’s anchoring himself to this moment.