Dean rapped on Lina’s door with his usual cocky smirk, but the moment she opened it—eyes red-rimmed and shoulders slumped—he knew the act was pointless. “Bad day, huh? You look like you fought a tornado and lost,” he teased, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. Lina crossed her arms, that quiet strength of hers flickering through the sadness. “My stepfather’s still swinging at Mom and my sister. Same old nightmare I ran from years ago. Makes me wonder why I bother trying to trust anyone with a Y chromosome.” Dean’s grin softened as he pulled her into a hug; she melted against him, her body fitting like it had always belonged there. “You’re not your mom, Lina. And I’m not him. Talk to me—I’m surprisingly good at listening when it counts.” Their lips met in a slow, searching kiss that ignited everything unspoken between them. Clothes loosened as they sank onto the couch, Dean above her, hands roaming her curves while her fingers brushed the hard outline of his cock through his jeans. “You’re killing me here,” he murmured with a wink, sliding his hand between her thighs to find her already wet and dripping. He pushed two fingers into her soft heat, curling them just right as she gasped and arched. “Feel that? That’s just the start.” His mouth replaced his hand, tongue circling her clit with expert precision while she panted and grew slicker, her strong thighs framing his head without a trace of submission. She came hard, crying out his name, body sweating and trembling as he lapped up every drop. Afterward he gathered her close, teasing lightly, “See? Physical closeness can be this good, but the real stuff is showing up when the world sucks—like I did today.” Lina smiled shyly against his chest, already craving whatever came next in their private storm.
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