"What, is cold water gonna kill ya?" Ellen was audible saying as Nim slipped into the bedroom, giggling at the back and forth between husband and wife. She closed the door behind herself firmly, wondering if she should wedge a chair under the handle as well, dark eyes lifting to Dean in all his glory. "God, I hope we end up like them."
"Old and crotchety?" Dean asked, eyes searching the room for a towel and not finding one. Okay, Ellen wasn't crotchety, but Bobby was definitely a grumpy old man. "You should have seen him back home. He..." Dean broke off, realizing back home, Bobby was dead. As was Jo and Ellen and Rufus and Bill and however many others he hadn't taken count of yet. "She's good for him," he continued. "They're good for each other." He turned around, feeling a mix of embarrassment at his predicament and affection for those who had taken him in and accepted him like he was the same old Dean they'd always known and loved.
"They're good for you, too," Nim pointed out fondly, finally choosing to go with the evidence of the household thus far and wedge that chair securely under the door handle. It wasn't a lock, but it would do. "You did look awesome running away, though," she added with a laugh, loosing the small towel from about herself to squeeze the water from her hair with it, beautifully immodest when his were the only eyes that would see her.
"Yeah, well, I hope you got a good look because I'm usually running toward danger, not away from it," he remarked, half serious, half joking. He wondered if he should start toweling off with the wash cloth, but figured it wouldn't get him very far. Instead, his eyes wandered over the lovely sight that had just been uncovered in front of him, and suddenly that washcloth was inadequate in size to cover his obvious interest. "Oh, hell..." He threw the pink heart-covered cloth aside and scooped her up in his arm to toss her back onto the bed with a low growl.
His sudden lunge toward her was punctuated by a loud shriek of a laugh as the towel went flying, her body sprawling over the freshly changed covers in a lewd display for his eyes only as she grinned up at him. "Coming over all caveman on me now, Deano?" she asked him playfully, though the husk in her voice matched the rippling tingle of flushing arousal that bled through her body under his gaze, sweeping delicate pink over her skin as she arched up onto her elbow, reaching a hand toward him.
No doubt Bobby and company heard the shriek all the way downstairs, but thankfully, no one came running to find out if anything was wrong, assuming the young couple was just feeling frisky. "Not coming yet, but I foresee it in my near future," he teased with a naughty smirk. He covered her body with his, his mouth greedily plundering hers.
Pinned back beneath him, hair and skin dampening the sheets that were already beginning to crumple under them, Nim laughed into the kiss, the sound swift to fade away into a tender moan as her arms rose to loop about him for a moment. But for all her seeming submission, she was still in a playful mood, enjoying the back and forth teasing and wrestling they had shared in the yard too much to let it go entirely just yet. She arched up beneath him, gasping softly at the sure, snug fit of her body to his even as she pushed, seeking to roll him onto his back. Her lips curved in a teasing smirk even as he ravished her mouth with kisses, as much caressing him with those roaming hands as attempting to turn him beneath her.
As much as he wanted her - had wanted her ever since they'd been teasing each other in the yard - he gave way to her nudging, rolling to his back, his arms going around her to pull her along with him. Once he was on his back, his hands moved over her, caressing her, stroking her, teasing her to arousal, memorizing every gentle hill and valley that made up the lush curves that could only belong to his Nimue.
Drawn over to straddle him in a laughing, loving tangle of limbs, she shivered under the possessive caress of his hands, distracted almost entirely from her own intentions by the sheer purpose in his touch, each passing caress rousing her to higher breathless desire. Her hands caught his, drawing them from her skin to pin him down in token gesture, his hands against the sheets above his head, leaning down to share her shuddering, longing breath with him in a kiss that teased her as much as him. Her body rocked over his, inciting them both to passion no matter how playful.
Not one known for submissiveness, he surrendered himself to her, putting complete trust in her, allowing her to take the lead and do with him what she would. He groaned against her lips, his fingers tangling with hers, devouring her kisses. Each rock of her body against his only made him want her more, shuddering with desire as she teased him with agonized pleasure. This was a different kind of torment, a torment he equally could barely stand but wanted to go on forever.
The kind of torment she wanted him to embrace without fear of himself or her. Slowly but surely, she was teaching him the difference between the torture of passion that would always find its reward, and the torture he had suffered in other ways, the torture she hoped he never experienced again. This was something he needed to know, and something she was glad to be able to teach, despite her own lack of experience when compared with him. Though every nerve in her body screamed at her to make an end of this torment passing between them, she steeled her will, still trading kisses, still shuddering as her skin brushed his, as they traded the intimate heat of one another, always pushing until one or the other of them broke through to demand what would never be denied to them.
There was a strange sort of freedom, of abandon, in being allowed, encouraged, forced even, to relinquish control, to allow her to do whatever she wished without worry or hesitation. It was strangely seductive to know that she loved him so much that she wanted to help him overcome the fears that had been plaguing him for so long, that she wanted him so much that she was willing to make this effort and take this chance, knowing he might not be ready. But he was ready, more than ready to make this leap of faith. Perhaps he'd never be able to go farther than this, but in that moment he put complete faith and trust in her, knowing she would never willingly hurt him, only love and care for him.
Breathless and eager, it was Nim who found she couldn't endure much more of her own teasing, something inside weakening as she felt him soften beneath her, handing her his weakness in a way that she could only see as a strength. Her lips broke from his with a staggered gasp, hands slowly untangling from his grasp, one to fall against the sheets above his head, bracing herself against the shuddering promise of more as the other hand trailed her fingers down over his skin to align their flesh, never once ceasing in that intoxicating rock and slide of her body over his own. "Oh god, baby ..." Her forehead fell to his shoulder as she took him slowly into her, prolonging the torture just that little bit further with her utter lack of urgency.
Countless times he'd heard those very words from some woman he was bedding, whether he had feelings for her or not, but this time, it was as if he was hearing them for the very first time, all the other women forgotten, paling in comparison to her. In the past, he might have used those words to tease and make an awkward joke, but not here, not now, not with her. For once in his life, he understood what those words meant, how they weren't just words spoken in the mindless heat of passion, but they were a lover's entreaty, pleading for more, even as they both craved release. But it was his turn now, and his arms found their way around her and rolled her easily onto her back, their bodies still locked together in a lover's embrace.