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G-Man by Ophium

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I had never killed anything in my life.


I mean, there was the occasional ant, and a few spiders, one or two creepy crawlers, but anything bigger than that? I just can’t.


I literally can’t harm a fly, not because I pity them in particular, just because they gross me out when you crush them and they turn in to mush.


And yet, I just put two bullets through a man’s chest. Well, a shapeshifter’s chest. And silver bullets at that.


And here I was, thinking that working at a bar in Oktoberfest week was bad. Crazy creatures that can turn themselves in to movie monsters and kidnap me to make me his bride trump crazy drunks’ any-freaking-time.


I will probably be freaking out about all of this in the morning, but right now? I’m feeling kind of numb. And cold. The dress sure is pretty but in this cold weather, after what I’ve just been trough… ain’t helping.


Dean’s eyes meet mine as he gets himself off the floor, dusting his… are those lederhosen?


Mister Dracula sure had some kinks in him.


I feel one feather-light touch on my bare shoulder and before I can bash in the warmth that Dean’s hand just spreads all over my body, he’s off to help his partner from the floor.


The way they interact is… awkward. Well, not between them, no. That’s anything but awkward. But me? I’m starting to feel like a third leg in here, a spare tyre in a car that won’t have a flat tyre anytime soon, a… actually, I’m just jealous.


The gentle way Dean holds his partner’s head, turning it one side and then the other, searching for blood and brakes. The fingers of one hand that automatically lose themselves in Sam’s hair, while the other hand holds his chin so that Dean can look in to his eyes. The chin-hold that climbs up Sam’s face, resting his open palm over Sam’s cheek. The clinical fingers in his hair that take a life of their own and ruffle Sam’s hair.


Dean’s head dips down, the angle planned to hide from Sam’s view the relief flooding through his face.


I see it though, and the jealousy I feel is not for the care and gentleness that I witness, or the love between them that is plain and evident for all to see. My jealousy is because, no matter how many boyfriends I’ve had, no one has ever touched me like that.




We drop his partner back at their motel room (theirs, as in both sleeping in the same room. How did I not get the clue sooner?), some silent communication going on between the two of them that could either be Dean making sure that Sam was actually ok after his crash through the wall, or Sam asking Dean to dump me and just stay there with him.


When Dean walks me to my apartment, we don’t talk much. The charged air between us is still there, but now, now I’m not sure if what I’m feeling is his sexual tension, or just tension.


I have to confess, I was kind of confused about the G-man. First words out of his mouth had been a flirt. He hadn’t said anything particularly inspiring, no words to sweep me off my feet, but the guy was good looking enough to still pull it off.  And then there was the kiss… humm, the man knew how to kiss!


But after seeing his interactions with his partner, I wasn’t really waiting for anything to happen. I mean, it wasn’t the first time that my gay-meter had been grossly ignored because the man in question was too good to be true and I wanted him to myself. It was just that… well it did look too much like we were in a movie, where the hero takes the damsel in distress home after saving her from the evil monster and they live happily after ever… or at least have wild, crazy sex. Depends on how old the movie is. And it’s rating.


Either way, I was starting to believe that hero was kind of in love with the other hero, and the damsel, who had actually ended up killing the monster, who wasn’t that evil after all, was going to stay home alone with a bowl of microwave popcorns and a lemon tequila.


I was wrong. I was deliciously wrong.


And the wisest words coming out of my mouth the whole day? ‘Do you want to come in?’


As soon as I closed the door behind me, my body was being turned around and pressed back. It took me a good couple of seconds to realize that he hadn’t lost his balance and had actually meant to grab me and push me against my own closed door with a hungry thump. When his tongue slip in to my mouth and his hands caressed my breasts over the silk of my new dress, there was no misunderstanding his intentions.


“Can I come in?” He asked in a voice so deep and raspy that it gave me goosebumps all over. The good kind of goosebumps.


I don’t usually put out on the first date, but it had been one crazy night, and all of my defenses were down because I though he played for the other team… and the things that his mouth was doing to my neck…

“Right this way, good sir,” I whispered back in to his ear, satisfied to see the effect that my breath had on his skin and on… everything else.


His hand was warm in mine as I grabbed it and led the way in to my bedroom. The distance wasn’t that far, but, even with the fingers of our hands locked together like they were, Dean managed to slip the dress off of me, his mouth warming the places that the silk had left cold.


When I tried to return the favor he stopped my hands when I started unbuttoning his shirt, covering it with a heated kiss. My hands forgot the shirt and moved south, loosening those ridiculous shorts. The shorts, surprising us both, revealed nothing else beneath.

Apparently the shapeshifter’s budget wouldn’t go as far as buying prop underwear.


Dean eventually shared his embarrassment at being stripped by the crazy creature; I shared my own tale of how I came to be inside the white dress. The one that had been left on the floor somewhere between here and my front door.


We made each other forget the night’s embarrassments and the creature that had caused them. Dean bared his soul to me through out that night and showed me a side of himself so gentle that you would think that this was his first time. He made me feel special and cared for; he gave himself whole to me. But through it all, he wouldn’t let me take off his shirt.




They left the next morning. Dean and his brother.


The prick had actually laughed in my face when I asked him about Sam. Because I couldn’t bear to actually take Dean in to my bed and be left to wander if it was my name or Sam’s that he would be screaming when he came.


With the straightest of faces he had said that Sam was much more than just his partner and that, no matter what, he would always love him. Then he waited for me to take all the wrong conclusions, watched my face turn God knows how many different colors and, just before I could actually kick him out of bed, he actually giggled and confessed that Sam was his kid brother. I wanted to kill him after that.


What ended up happening after that wasn’t that illegal, but it would still get a raised eyebrow or two.


The shirt did eventually come off, but only because he thought I was asleep when he got up to take a shower in the morning.


If he hadn’t made such a big deal out of it, I would’ve probably chalk it up to shyness (which he had very little of in bed), or maybe bad skin (which I highly doubted because the rest was… the word creamy comes to mind) or even some sort of deformation, all of which I could have handled just fine. I mean, I’d dated a guy with three nipples and that hadn’t been bad at all.


So I spied on him.


I silently watched as he got out of bed bare assed and walked to the small bathroom inside my bedroom, pulling his shirt out as he went. In the morning’s twilight, his back looked as smooth and perfect just as the rest of him.


I saw it when he turned on the light.


It looked like burned skin, like a brand. A hand-shaped brand.


I couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped my mouth, even though I knew that he would hear me and know. Know that the one thing that he’d ask me to keep to himself, I had taken against his will.


When I managed to drag my eyes off the redden skin I forced myself to seek his eyes, afraid to see the disappointment in those green depths.


There were a lot of things showing in his eyes, but disappointment was far from being one of them. I could see embarrassment, shame, a certain fear of being judged, but mostly, I could see curiosity.


It crossed my mind that I might be the first woman to ever see his bran… his burn.


At the time, I thought that it was just a part of his flirting method, that whole story about his work and his near death experience. Men have come up with weirder stuff to get in to my panties, so, at this point, there wasn’t much that I would take at face value. But now, now I could see his story in a whole new light and I knew that it was true.


More than that, I knew that it had changed him so deeply that not even he knew yet how much.

There was no trace now of the courageous man who had stood between me and a Dracula-cross-dresser just a few hours ago; there was no trace now of the passionate and generous lover who had taken me through last night; all I could see was a lost man, looking for some certainties.


I gave in to my own instincts and rushed out of bed to hug him, not wasting time with my own doubts of being welcomed.


There was a certain amount of relief that I could feel cursing through Dean’s body as my arms wrapped themselves around his shoulders, my cold skin covering the red, hot mark on his arm.


Relief that I had accepted him as he is.


Relief that I hadn’t asked how he got it.


Relief that with or without mark, he was still the same man that I had invited to my bed last night.


I invited him to my shower this time, and showed him just how much his marked arm didn’t matter to me.


The end

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