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"Life's Not So Terrible" - Dean/Janis - Supernatural
Title: Life’s Not So Terrible
Author: Jade Blood
Rating: NC-17 (Adult Content)
Disclaimer: Supernatural doesn't belong to me, and I don't pretend it does. But Janis is my character, and Nina belongs to Aratocriel, so they can't be used without permission. No profits were made from this story.
Characters/Pairings: Dean, Sam, Dean/OFC
Spoilers: For 4.17 "It's A Terrible Life"
Summary: Dean Smith needs a secretary, and he believes he's found the perfect woman for the job in Janis.
Author's Note: Yep! It's Dean/Janis AU, sort of. You don't have to have read any of the previous stories to get what's going on here, but I think it makes it more fun. Also, there's a couple of Easter eggs (in keeping with the season? Heh.) for those paying close attention. Enjoy!

Day One

Janis walked the short distance to Mr. Smith’s office in her sensible heels with her pleated skirt moving against her thighs in a soft, swishing to and fro. She checked the buttons of her white blouse, a compulsive move that spoke of her nervousness. She hugged the folder that held her resume against her bosom as she tapped on the open doorjamb.

Mr. Smith raised his head and smiled disarmingly at her, then stood from his desk. “Hi, come on in. Have a seat.”

“Good morning,” Janis greeted, hoping she didn’t appear as anxious as she felt. He was gesturing to a pair of chairs before his desk, and she managed to tear her eyes away from the view outside long enough to take one gracefully and cross her legs at the knee. “Did you receive the fax I sent of my resume?”

“I did,” he nodded approvingly as he seated himself and retrieved his copy. “Worked at the Gallagher and Weems law firm for four years. I know those guys. They aren’t easy to keep up with, so I bet that was a feat.”

“Slightly disorganized, yes,” Janis replied with a soft smile. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

His eyes cut up to her with an odd flash of a smirk, then back down to his paper. “Arizona,” he intoned gently. “What made you move out here?”

Strangely, she wasn’t sure how to answer that question and nearly floundered before settling on something generic. “I wanted a change of scenery, I suppose. To try something different.”

He was nodding at her answer as he looked over the attached application. “So you don’t have any issue working with computers?”

“Not at all,” Janis answered.

“Well, we have a rather full tech support team downstairs, so you really don’t have anything to fear.” He smiled at her again.

“That’s good to know, sir,” Janis laughed, a bit breathless from the force of that handsome smile.

“Call me ‘Dean’,” he chuckled modestly. “We don’t need ‘sirs’ and ‘misters’ here.”

“All right, Dean,” she laughed again. She would have to stop that, as the sound was becoming practically giddy.

The interview continued until they were no longer discussing her work history or education or anything on her resume. Instead, the conversation had taken a turn toward current events, winding its way through several topics before lighting upon some cleaver thing Dean had read in a Dilbert comic. Janis wasn’t sure if she found the joke funny so much as the way he told it, and the two of them cackled over it until they realized they’d lost their composure.

“I’m sorry,” Janis snorted, wiping a stray, amused tear from her eye. “Just… that face you made.” And she let loose a sharp giggle once more.

Dean shrugged as if it were nothing, then let a slightly awkward silence fall over them. “Listen…” he began after a moment. “Could you start tomorrow?”

Janis blinked at him, a slow smile dawning across her lips. “Does that mean I’m hired?”

“I think it does,” Dean laughed. “You just really know how to make a first impression.”

“Thank you, sir!” Janis barked as she rose, then waved her hands at herself. “I mean, Dean.” She took his hand once more, his grip tempered about her slender fingers. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

Day Two

It was only her first day, and already her head was spinning. Dean wasn’t as picky as past employers had been, but he still liked things a certain way. There was a protocol to follow regarding what calls he would take and from who, what paperwork was to be delivered at once and what could wait, and where he would be regarding his own schedule, though most of his time was spent attached to his desk. Janis took liberal notes, terrified of missing anything, and kept them between the flat screen computer monitor and telephone at her humble desk.

Despite being physically imposing, Dean never came across as outright intimidating. There were times that he seemed like a typical businessman, with his head so firmly planted in his work that it was almost painful, but he didn’t speak down to Janis anymore so than she’d been spoken to before by his kind. Her only complaint was his wardrobe. He appeared to be the type that obsessed over his clothes exuding a sense of power, when really they only made him seem color-and-pattern-blind. She consistently conjured images of Christian Bale in American Psycho, and while this worried her on some level, she said nothing.

Once they’d spent a couple of hours on the general rundown, he dismissed her from his office and set back to work. Things moved slowly enough that she wasn’t sure why he needed a secretary at all, and it began to occur to her that she was more or less a status symbol. The sales manager had to have a secretary. Not because he couldn’t handle his own workload, but because it made him seem that much more powerful compared to his rivals. But at thirteen dollars an hour, she wasn’t being paid to question such things.

Just before lunch, she peeked her head into his office with a questioning look. “Sir?” She touched her forehead as if wanting to slap it but just staying herself. “Dean. Sorry, that’s going to take some getting used to. Um, what do we do for lunch?”

“Huh?” Dean turned minutely, just enough that both she and his monitor were within his field of vision. “Lunch! I bring mine. And there’s a cafeteria on the second floor if you want to take a break.”

“Really?” Janis asked, then let herself into the room more fully, pulling the door to behind her. “You don’t go out with a bunch of guys from management?”

Dean stared at her for a long moment, following this with a slow shake of his head. “Should I?” He seemed amused by her preconceived notions.

When she realized she may have thrust her foot firmly in her mouth, Janis laughed and began to backpedal. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by that.”

“No offense taken,” Dean shrugged easily. “But I’m still considered a rookie here. I work through lunch.”

“Seriously?” Janis asked and realized she was practically repeating herself. “It’s just that… Should I be working through lunch?”

“Not if you don’t want to,” Dean replied, rolling his shoulders as he typed in a quick command on his computer.

“Okay,” Janis replied softly, then backed out of the room as if this ended the conversation.

She didn’t give him much more thought until five o’clock rolled around. She peeked into his office again after a full afternoon of speaking to him only through an intercom. “Dean? I’m heading out for the day. Are you staying?”

“Another hour maybe,” he agreed, his tie loosened and his suspenders lax against his arms. “Just gotta finish up. See you in the morning.”

“Have a good night,” she murmured, and shut him in with the soft glow of his desk lamp. She wondered momentarily if the money was worth being overworked and lonely, then dismissed herself for the evening.

Day Three

The Styrofoam to-go plate was in her hands. She was poised outside the door. She just needed to knock and make herself known. Either that, or eat at her desk like a quitter. She just needed to get on with it. Then again, hesitation was to be expected at a moment like this. What if he laughed and sent her away? What if she was stepping over some invisible line that wasn’t meant to be crossed?

“Get a grip Janis,” she scolded herself, then raised her fist to tap lightly at the door.

“Come in!” She did as she was told and smiled warmly at the piece of lettuce protruding against Dean’s full bottom lip. “Need something?”

“No,” she said, and her tone was much more affectionate than she’d meant for it to be. She shut the door behind her and said with some authority, “I am joining you for lunch.”

Dean pulled the bit of lettuce into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed before finding a voice to reply with, and by then she was already making herself comfortable across from him. “Why? You don’t have to--”

“No, I don’t,” she said with a smile. Her container was open and her fork poised to dig in. “But I want to.”

Dean tilted his head at her and made a face that seemed to indicate he didn’t quite understand, but he would allow it. After eating in silence for a few minutes, he peeked at her food, then gestured at it with his fork. “That stuff’s terrible for you.”

“This?” Janis asked, now pointing with her own utensil at the spaghetti and meat sauce.

“Yeah, that,” he snorted. “It’s all just empty carbs.”

“Deliciously empty carbs,” Janis teased as she twirled a bunch of noodles on her fork and popped them into her mouth. “Mmm, carbs,” she groaned theatrically. “Not to mention protein in the hamburger. And tomatoes are a vegetable.”

“Fruit,” Dean corrected, spearing another mouthful of lettuce.

“Which is also good for you!” she challenged.

“Natural sugar is still sugar,” he replied, striking the air with one finger as if he’d just made a point for himself against her.

“Yeah, and I bet those vegetables in your blessed salad are covered in pesticides and full of genetically engineered additives,” she replied with a laugh. “Nothing in this country is sacred and clean anymore, the least of all being our food.”

“That sounds awfully cynical,” Dean laughed. “I know the economy is in the crapper--”

“Putting it lightly.”

“--But it’s not all bad.”

“No,” Janis chirped. She placed the end of a noodle into her mouth and sucked it up between her lips, its journey ending with a soft pop. “There’s still cafeteria spaghetti.”

Dean blurted a laugh at this, then leaned forward with a sweep of his thumb across her lower lip. Apparently, she’d smeared a generous amount of sauce there, and he was merely brushing it away, but he did a curious thing. Once he’d sat back from her again, already having jarred her with the physical contact, he stuck his thumb between his lips and licked it clean. Janis drew her bottom lip between her teeth, her own tongue darting out to not only taste the sauce that remained but the flavor his skin had left.

The moment stretched and lingered until Janis tossed her plastic fork into her half-eaten meal and closed the lid. “Well, I’m done,” she announced. “I’ll get back to work now, sir.”

Dean didn’t bother to correct the formal way she excused herself and merely nodded while his cheeks colored. As she exited, she watched him disregard the rest of his salad the way she had her spaghetti, cradling his head in one hand as he began his work again.

Day Four

“Yeah, I’m doing good here… Him? He’s all right, I guess. Obsessed with work. Typical business junkie… Since when do you care? …Living vicariously through me again. Maybe if you weren’t such a goodie-goodie… When my love life seems exciting, that’s when you know you need some help, girl… Listen, I’m actually calling from work. I just wanted to check in, but I don’t want to get into trouble… Love you, too… Bye.”

Janis looked up and saw Dean standing a few feet away, his stance indicating that he’d been waiting for her to get off the phone. She managed a weak syllable, more a grunt than part of a word, when Dean closed the short distance and laid down a stapled packet in front of her.

“I don’t know what the policy is on personal calls,” Janis managed, her cheeks turning pink.

“There isn’t one,” he told her. “It was short and sweet, so I don’t think we have a problem.”

Janis nodded and hung her head in favor of seeing to the papers he’d laid out before her. Her attention snapped back up at his next question.

“So who was it? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Oh,” Janis breathed, then folded her hands awkwardly in front of her. “My sister, Nina. I’ve been so busy lately I hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to her, and we’re usually pretty inseparable.”

“And apparently she’s a… what did you call her?” He grinned. “A goodie-goodie?”

“She’s reserved,” Janis replied and began busying her hands with the neatly stapled packet. “Sir, may I ask what this is?”

“Just something I need revised and typed up by this afternoon,” he grunted. “And I told you. It’s ‘De--’”

“Dean,” she breathed, then shot him a slightly annoyed look, like a kitten who’d been poked one too many times. “I understand. I’ll get this to you shortly.”

“Thank you, Janis.” He smirked, shook his head, and retreated to his office again.

When he was out of sight, the door shut between them, Janis dropped her face into her hands. She didn’t doubt that this was going to result in a lot of teasing and wasn’t certain she could bear it. But why should it be so hard to bear? The only thing that could make it difficult on her was if she was harboring an attraction. Certainly, he was attractive, and she’d been downplaying it to Nina so that her sister wouldn’t prod her over it. But just how honest was she being with herself when she called him “all right”? Despite his fashion sense, he was much better than just all right.

Her work on the document went quickly and was a welcome distraction, but when she attempted to print the finished product, there appeared to be some snag that disallowed the action. She tried restarting the computer and hitting the “print” icon a second time, but nothing happened. There was paper. There was ink. There shouldn’t be a problem.

“Why?” she asked the ceiling as she picked up her receiver and hit the extension for tech support. “Can you send someone up here? Dean Smith’s office. It’s the printer.”

When the man arrived, she wasn’t sure they’d sent “someone” so much as “something”. He was enormously tall, squeezed into a polo shirt and khakis that only made him look even more absurdly huge, yet he had the face of a kid and a gentle, quiet manner that seemed to contradict the rest of him.

“Printer not working?” he asked with a quirky smile that seemed to say “this is what I do all day, and I bet I already know what’s wrong.”

“Yeah,” Janis huffed, then stood from her chair and backed away from the device as though he were about to dismantle a bomb. “It just… won’t print.”

“Let me see what I can do,” he mumbled, then hit the printer’s power button. He waited five seconds or so, then hit it once more. After the printer prepped itself and chugged to life, a piece of paper slid into the machine’s workings. The familiar noises of ink being applied to a page filled the small space. “All fixed.”

“Thank you,” Janis laughed. “Wow, couldn’t you have told me that over the phone?”

“Actually, it’s nice to take a walk away from that cubicle every once in a while,” he admitted. Something in his face changed, his eyes narrowing and his mouth working without words. “I’m sorry. I’m Sam. Sam Wesson.”

Janis took his hand just as he extended it and shook with a smile. “Janis Bozic. I just started here.”

She had assumed that the look he’d been giving her was because she was an unfamiliar face, until he went on to say, “I feel like I recognize you.”

Janis tilted her head with a short laugh. “I think I’d remember you. Big guy, yellow shirt.”

Sam snorted then and shook his head. “No, I mean.” He sighed, searching for the words. “I have these dreams sometimes…”

“Oh?” Janis asked and could feel her face distorting as she tried to keep it straight. From the sound of it, this guy was about to tell her they’d met in a dream. Like she’d never heard that line before. “I hate to be rude, but I have to get this to my boss right away.”

“Sure,” Sam murmured softly, then waved as he rushed himself out of the room.

Day Five

“Morning coffee,” Janis announced as entered Dean’s office. She pressed her fingers against her mouth and winced apologetically when he waved to her and indicated the Bluetooth at his ear. She mouthed a quick “sorry” and crossed the room to set the cup in front of him.

Just as she was reaching the door to let herself out, she heard Dean draw a hasty end to his conversation, followed by, “Janis! Hold on a sec.”

“Sure,” she replied amiably as she whirled to face him again. It made her nervous to think that he’d ended a phone call prematurely just to speak with her. It must be important. Or bad. “Something wrong?”

“No, nothing’s wrong,” Dean grinned from across the room. “I just… didn’t want to be rude.”

“Oh please,” Janis huffed, cutting her eyes to her shoes with a hint of embarrassment. “You were talking to someone. I understand that. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“I wanted to say ‘good morning’,” he added as if she’d not just put on a bashful show. “So… good morning.”

“Good morning,” she repeated, feeling stiff, out of place. “Did I get the coffee right?” It felt good to change the subject, even slightly. “It has that vanilla cream you like so much.”

“It’s great,” he replied, though he had yet to take the first sip. “Thank you.”

The smile that flitted across his face was tight, a bit anxious, so Janis backed toward the open door again. “I should leave you to your work,” she announced.

“You don’t have to do that,” Dean grunted back with a shake of his head.

Janis’s fingers were hovering over the door handle, curling around it lightly, experimentally. Then she shut the door, leaning against it and eyeing him with the slightest squint, as though examining a specimen under a microscope’s lens. There was something undeniable that had been building between them, and this renewed sense of uneasiness, despite having worked together for days now, only seemed to intensify it. Dean was adamant about shedding any formalities in their work relationship, and she unnecessarily fought it. Even in being the one who insisted they not act overly professional with one another, he was holding something back. She was starting to think she understood why now, particularly when their eyes locked and each seemed to see well beyond what they were meant to see.

“What do you want from me?” she found herself asking, softly but not without force.

“To talk,” Dean answered at once, a tad defensive though he worked to hide this.

“What about?” she asked. It seemed the safest place she could be was in secretarial mode, and she went there again, striding toward his desk and trying to ignore how he watched her calves scissor with each step. “Is this about my job performance?”

“No,” Dean grunted and cleared his throat, gazing up at her with something akin to innocence, though she thought it was more or less a performance. “Your sister. Does she not live here with you?”

“She’s thinking of moving, yes,” Janis answered carefully, not sure why they were choosing this topic of conversation. She circled the desk and balanced her backside against the edge of it, not entirely understanding what made her choose this stance. Why hadn’t she taken a chair across the desk? This seemed a little intimate, too close. “The idea of leaving home scares her, though. She’s kind of timid.”

“Goodie-goodie,” Dean snorted, the laughter genuine and breaking the awkward spell they seemed to be under. “Makes me wonder what that makes you.”

Janis opened her mouth to speak, then stalled by dragging her tongue across her lips thoughtfully. “Dean…”

“That was out of line,” Dean grumbled at once, turning to the neatly arranged office supplies on his desk and shifting them about nervously. “I don’t know what made me say that. I really never act like this. I mean, that was bordering dangerously on sexual harassment, wasn’t it? Jesus, I’m sorry.”

“Hey, don’t sweat it.” Janis reached out, meaning to go for his fidgeting hands but finding her fingers sliding under his chin instead. She urged him to turn his face to her, pushing her hand further across his jaw and up into his close-cropped hair. She skirted the product that held it in place and teased the sides, where his hair remained soft and touchable.

They’d known each other five days, counting this morning, but the look that crossed his face (he wants me; his eyes; he’s ready to drag me down to the floor) seemed so familiar. It was like an unscratchable itch. Janis hadn’t allowed herself the fantasies that had threatened, but she felt now as if that was unnecessary. Somehow, somewhere, she’d already entertained a hundred fantasy with this man. It wasn’t quite a memory. More an instinct, proving she was more of an animal than she was willing to admit.

They both chanced the barest glance at the door, as if willing someone to burst in and stop them before this went too far. As fate would have it, they were left alone. That’s when Janis fell onto him, the two of them joining lips furiously in a kiss so long and wet that Janis sincerely believed she’d never been so thoroughly kissed in her life. Not thinking herself capable of such speed and nimbleness (then again, she’d not thought herself capable of anything happening recently), she was straddling his lap, forcing her knees between his hips and the arms of the office chair. Broad, greedy hands forced her skirt up to her hips then rummaged between their bodies to loosen his belt and dress pants.

“Wait,” Janis ordered as she broke away from him, marveling at the mess he already looked just from their fierce kisses. She saw something akin to panic cross his face and smirked down at him, hoping this might alleviate whatever fear she’d instilled. “We have to do this right. I’m the secretary. You’re my boss.”

Dean looked as if he didn’t understand her meaning whatsoever, then she began sliding from his lap and under the desk. She was careful to watch her head as she crouched into the alcove there, reaching out with slender fingers to finish the work he’d begun with his belt. There was a jangle of metal on metal, then a soft zip. The suspenders he wore (bright red… that clashes so bad) proved a hindrance for a moment until she managed to pull them free just enough so that his pants could ride a bit lower on his waist.

Just as her hands began digging their way into his briefs, Dean asked, “you sure about this?”

“No,” she breathed, blinking up at him. “But I can’t stop. I want you.”

“This doesn’t come off as sexist and misogynist and--?”

Before he could go on, Janis slid forward over his lap and pressed a finger to his full lips. “Maybe a little, but I’m not worrying about it, so you shouldn’t either. ‘Kay?”

He nodded wordlessly and allowed her to get back to work. She urged him to tuck his chair beneath the desk, as far as he could while still allowing her some freedom of movement. She then freed him from the confines of his white briefs, marveling at what he had to offer. The cliché of the businessman with a small package who tried to compensate by taking a seat of power was well-known, but she found it didn’t fit Dean whatsoever. It made her want to ask what he was even doing here with his muscles and good-looks and now this, but she wasn’t about to waste anymore time than they already had with small talk.

Janis began with licks, kisses, soft nips with her lips and tongue. There was a taste she had to acquaint herself with, one of a man who ate a lot of health food and probably needed more natural protein in his diet just as she’d suggested. When she took the swollen head between her lips, she saw both his hands move to grip his armrests. The thrill that surged up her spine and back down again resulted in a dark laugh that felt so out of character and yet so right.

Her nails teased his thighs through the fabric of his dress pants, then up under his shirt, finding tight abs to rake across. His composure was well lost, tossed out the window as if it decided it would rather be with the view outside than its master. She’d never imagined seeing him like this, growling and grabbing for her hair. He contained all the strength and ferocity of a predator dressed in sheep’s clothing, and with a flash of certainty, she knew he didn’t belong here. Neither of them did.

The heated whimpers that left her mouth as she saw to him genuinely couldn’t be helped. This entire situation felt so much larger than her, out of control. So much so that his orgasm was the perfect punctuation. Perhaps he’d been trying to warn her, but she’d not heard either way, and she came up sputtering and gasping, swallowing frantically so none would dribble down her chin.

“Dean!”

“Sir!”

Janis froze anxiously beneath the desk, eyes wide and her fingers curled about her mouth as if she were witnessing a horrific murder as it happened. That sounded like Dean’s supervisor, she was sure of it, and her skin drained of color at once, leaving her even more pale than usual.

“Are you all right?” she heard the newcomer, who could stand learning to knock, ask with a thread of concern in his tone. “You’re sweating… Are you sick?”

“Yeah, actually,” Dean chuckled. He sounded weary and breathless, perfect for faking an illness. “Breakfast didn’t agree with me, I guess.”

“I was going to ask your secretary if you were available to chat for few, but she wasn’t at her desk,” he went on.

“Must’ve stepped away,” Dean said, and she could barely see his shoulders roll in a shrug from where she was hidden. It occurred to her then that it couldn’t be easy trying to carry on a conversation with his privates hanging out beneath the dubious security of his desk. She reached to tuck them back in place but realized too late that this might only complicate things for him. He barked an odd noise, then began hacking as if doubling his chances at appearing ill.

“You sound really awful,” she heard the supervisor intone gently. “Maybe you should take the day off.”

“I’m okay, really,” Dean replied.

“No, I insist.” The man’s tone was gracious, forgiving, and Janis was beginning to understand that she would not be forced to shimmy out of her safe spot, wiping demurely at the corner’s of her mouth. She was going to get away with this, and unbelievably it made her want to pop out into the open and thank him.

“If you think that’s best,” Dean was saying as he allowed a hand to stray under his desk and find her cheek. This was partly a reassurance for what she was already celebrating, but there was something else there, a kind of affection she’d not expected.

“I do,” was the playfully stubborn reply. “Get some rest. Can’t have my sales manager wandering around sick. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you, sir,” Dean replied with a smile in his voice.

As soon as the door clicked shut, she heard him whoosh as though all the air had been let out of him. It was safe to bet that they were alone again, and Janis quickly began scrambling to shove him out of the way and emerge into the open air again. She stumbled at first, smacking his hands away when he tried to assist her, and was not satisfied until she was standing upright with her skirt smoothed out.

“We almost got caught,” she heard herself shudder, then turned on him. There was a mad gleam in his eye, one she was sure she possessed, as well. “That was exciting, wasn’t it?”

“Come home with me,” Dean said at once, so quick and demanding that it actually caused her to blink.

“What?” Janis asked. “I… have to stay here.” Why, she wasn’t sure. If he wasn’t going to be in his office, she’d have no tasks to see to besides sitting at her desk and telling everyone asking that he’d gone home for the day.

“You said yourself, I’m your boss,” Dean challenged with a smirk. “And I just gave you the day off with me. You gonna turn that down?”

He was ruffled, rumpled, relaxed, and more gorgeous to her than she had observed thus far. Just how affected she was, the slit between her legs offering up enough moisture to soak through her panties, dared her to turn him down. It wouldn’t be fair, she reasoned, to give him this incredible fantasy without receiving anything in return. That smile, the way he reached to smooth a hand over her hip, promised it would be well worth her trouble.

Janis laid her palm over his knuckles as his fingers traveled up her side, then she reached out to touch his hair experimentally, finding it as stiff with product as she’d feared. “On one condition: we wash this shit out of your hair.”

“Done,” Dean responded without hesitation.

First things first, they split up and took different routes to the parking lot, as if this made them less conspicuous. They left notes about food poisoning on their desks, tidied up in the bathrooms designated for their separate genders, then met at his parking spot in the expansive, concrete garage. Of all the things to do when two people were having a fling, he opened the passenger door for her. Janis awkwardly accepted this invitation, then sat beside him as they pulled out, questioning her decision for the first time. Once they had cleared the office building and away from those who might pry, these misgivings started slowly vanishing. His radio was blatting some AM station where the major concern appeared to be politics, and as they drove, he reached out and dialed the volume down until it was nearly silent.

“I never do stuff like this,” he chuckled nervously.

“Me neither,” Janis blurted, hoping the laugh that followed tempered how offended she’d sounded. “I never… I don’t just blow guys, you know. Particularly not ones I work for.”

“I didn’t think you did!” Dean replied at once, wide-eyed, snapping this look between her and the road. “I’m just saying…”

“It’s odd, isn’t it?” Janis ventured. “The way that happened.”

“Like it was supposed to,” Dean said.

And this stuck between them. “Meant to be” was the sort of phrase people bandied around in romance novels where character’s motivations couldn’t be explained because the author was too lazy. Yet Janis was unable to put her finger on it in any other way. This was not quite love at first sight. She wanted to say that she felt she’d known him much longer than just under a week, but that didn’t quite fit either. They weren’t even necessarily comfortable with one another, because something was different. That seemed to be the ungraspable crux of their situation. Something was different.

His house boasted of success, populated with items that he might have bothered to justify if he weren’t past attempting to impress her. Still, she was silently intimidated by how much money he obviously made, how out of her league he was based solely on what he owned. Before she could ask why she was here, he was tossing his keys and briefcase aside in favor of pulling her in for a kiss, and she was reminded. She was here for this.

They didn’t quite grapple, and once more Janis found herself wondering how many times they’d done this before that finding the right pace was so easy. Dean said something about sharing a shower but that it needed to wait until after this. Before she could ask what “this” was, he was peeling her panties off and burying his face between her legs. The leather couch he was treating her upon was expensive, and for a moment she actually worried about making a mess of it. Until his tongue dragged the longest, most heated stroke across her parted slit and her hips were forced to angle her further into his mouth. Suddenly, letting him make a meal of her seemed to be most important.

And a meal, she was. He lapped and drank like a man starved, suckling on the small, stiff bud that sent bolts of sensation up her back and down her legs. The sloppy noises he made were gradually drowned out by their shared moans, his low and hungry, hers loud and desperate. Then it all seemed like too much. His bent shoulders appeared too worshipful, his mouth felt too soft and slick with her juices, his tongue was too quick, and the large hands gripping her backside were too strong. One final kiss, deep with the brush of his teeth and nuzzle of his nose, transformed her into a weeping, arching, trembling bundle of nerves. When that surge met his tongue, his licks became slow and deliberate, as if he were licking a wound.

“Ready for that shower?” he asked.

She raised her head on a neck that creaked, let out a breathless laugh at his glistening lips, and thumped her head back on the cushion. Apparently, he took that as a “yes”, because he clambered over her and gathered her into his arms. She allowed herself to be wrapped around him, stripped and fondled, and pulled under a torrent of warm water. She hung off of broad shoulders, whimpering when the touch was sweet, laughing when it tickled.

“This is why I have to keep my hair tamed,” he told her when he’d shampooed and rinsed. Even when wet, sprigs of dark-blond hair stuck out in every direction as if it was trying to escape his scalp.

Janis giggled merrily, running her fingers over and through the damp spikes. “But I prefer this! It suits you!” Then she kissed his modest smile.

After a few minutes toying with shower gel that smelled of cologne, they moved to the bedroom. Janis wanted to ask if she should be getting into his big, lush bed when she was still mostly wet, but he was tugging her down with him and answering her unasked question rather loudly as his hands cupped her breasts. His sheets were soft, but the mattress was a bit too unyielding for her. This was all barely noticeable outside of how his body felt as he reclined beneath her. His renewed erection brushed her backside, and she was marveling all over again at how well-worked his body appeared. He gazed up with a similarly stunned expression, watching her hips rock gently above his midsection.

Janis reached to angle his cock against her opening, then backed over him with a soft cry that almost sounded hurt. She could see the question in his eyes: did I hurt you? No, but the pangs she felt were being tortured into an ache so needy that she couldn’t help but begin with a furious pace. He urged her hands to steady against his chest as she rode him, and she found he was more than sturdy enough to withstand her weight. His jaw clenched, his eyes shut, and his hands assisted her with every roll and grind of her hips.

When her walls seized about him, her pleased sobs filling the room, Dean rolled with her. Janis thought her nerves were too shot and over-stimulated to even feel him hammering way between her legs, but this fresh sensation soon had her crying out a second time. Her fingernails dug into the flesh of his sides as she begged him to finish, and he emptied into her with a long, tense growl.

Their afterglow should have been awkward. Lying in his bed, in his arms, shouldn’t have felt natural. This was a stranger and his unfamiliar house, and while the house still gave her pause, the stranger didn’t. They both wanted to talk, but the only things to be said would mystify further. “I love yous” were not appropriate here, as much as it felt like the thing to say. They attempted to say so without words, hoping touch sufficed, but that feeling of being incomplete lingered.

“I don’t know what this is,” Janis breathed against his shoulder.

“Neither do I,” Dean answered as he stared at the ceiling.

“Should I go?” She could’ve been standing in his office, asking if she were dismissed.

“Do you want to?” he murmured.

“No,” she answered, trying to huddle closer even though she was draped across his side.

Dean nodded at this, his hand making lazy patterns over the length of her back. “I’ve never felt this weirdly close to someone before.”

Janis didn’t know what to say beyond agreeing, and she did, her hand moving to grip his and weave their fingers together. “Close your eyes,” she told him. “Sleep.”

Sleep wouldn’t allow this to make any more sense, and Janis knew that. They would wake just as confused and in love, blind and groping for each other through the veil that seemed laid across their eyes, but it would quiet them. She welcomed being quiet with him, so long as she was with him.

The End