A/N: This is the final part of the story. Thank you all for reading! Please review if you haven't already!

Dean gazed down Hannah's body as she lay curled against him. The bruises and bite marks he'd inflicted were already starting to show on her pale skin. He felt his cock begin to stir at this. Not because he'd hurt her – Dean would do anything to keep pain away from her– but because he'd marked her. Hannah was his, and now she had the marks all over her body to prove it. His gaze fell upon his own body, marked with Hannah's scratches – she'd marked him as well. Dean smiled. As it should be. Whether he would ever admit it out loud or not, a part of him belonged to her.

Softly Dean began grazing his nails up and down Hannah's side, causing her to purr and curl further against him. She giggled when he found a particularly ticklish spot near her waist.

"Dean, stop!"

Instantly he had her pinned underneath him, smiling eyes beaming down at her. "Make me."

Dean may have had pinned, but he made the mistake of leaving one hand free, so Hannah reached between their bodies and began softly stroking his semi-hard cock. Slowly he began fucking her hand, his eyes never leaving hers, his breathing even, the smile on his face never changing. Hannah knew it was a false sense of control, but she relished it anyway, felt herself getting wetter as Dean's smooth skin slid between her fingers. It was amazing to her how even his breathing was sexy.

Suddenly Dean was off of her, pulling her down and off the bed, then bending her over and onto her belly, her feet resting firmly on the ground. Skillful fingers tested her wetness and circled her clit. A strong hand crashed down on her ass, making her cry out.

"Are you the one in control here, Hannah," Dean asked behind her.

Hannah's breath came out in short gasps, surprise, pain, and lust warring inside her body. At first she couldn't speak.

Another crash of his hand, then another. "Answer me, Hannah."

"No," she replied.

"That's right, you're not, Precious." Dean's hands crashed down upon her mercilessly, causing her to moan, to cry out. Was it pain or lust that was winning out? Her mind swirled. She couldn't tell.

As suddenly as the torture started, it stopped. Dean smoothed her ass cheeks rubbed them, kissed them gently, caressed the sting away. Gentle hands slid down her back, comforting her, and Hannah laid her head against the soft mattress.

Bending over Hannah so that he could whisper in her ear, Dean rubbed his now-hard cock at her entrance. "Do you want this," he asked.

"Yes," she whimpered, pressing back against him, trying to impale herself on him.

Dean clicked his tongue at her, pulling away. "Not until you control yourself."

Hannah stilled, forcing her body to stop moving, quieting her breathing. Every cell in her body screamed at her to move, to turn around, to take what belonged to her, but she didn't. She stood quietly, bent over the bed, waiting. The long months without him came flooding back. The seconds that passed felt like days as she remembered the long nights spent alone, wondering what city he was in, which diva he was fucking, whether he even remembered the girl he'd left back home. As she waited for him, she remembered the night she'd finally given up on him, finally convinced herself he wasn't coming home. There were no tears shed, just a hole that she'd patched up and set aside in her heart.

And now here she was, being ripped from her memories as Dean thrust into her, no warning, no preparation. He stayed like that, buried deep inside her, causing a burning ache, but offering no relief. Hannah wiggled her hips to try to ease her need, but she was rewarded with another harsh slap to the ass.

"Dean, please," she cried out in frustration. After going so long without him, so long thinking she'd never have him again, she was at her breaking point.

He leaned down so that his mouth was at her ear. "I'm sorry I've had to punish you, Precious. But you forgot who was in control. So tell me now, Hannah. Who's in control?"

Without hesitation Hannah replied, "You are."

Dean pulled out completely and slammed back into her. "That's right, baby. Tell me again. Who's in control?"

"You are, Dean."

Again, he gripped her hips and thrust harshly in and out, once, then stilled.

Dean chuckled darkly. "You're learning. One more time. Who controls you, Hannah?"

"Fuck, Dean. You do. You control me."

Dean laughed and thrust.

"Again."

"You do."

"Again."

"Fuck."

Dean's pace was brutal, but Hannah met him thrust for thrust. He pushed her completely onto the bed, face down, ass up, and climbed on top of her, spreading her legs further apart with his own. She hadn't been with anyone since Dean had left, and she would be sore tomorrow, be Hannah didn't care. This was too good.

With one hand he reached under her and found her clit, and the other he wrapped around her throat.
"You're mine," he snarled in her ear.

Hannah nodded as his thrusts became quicker. Those words sent a thrill through her, straight to her clit.

"Mine," Dean chanted again, beginning to lose himself in her, his thrusts now rough and sloppy.

Hannah rocked her hips back against him, so close to cumming. Dean leaned down and locked his teeth over her neck and growled, and fuck, she broke apart, crying out his name, her whole body shaking. She pulled his orgasm from him, and as he lay on top of her, she felt him lick her neck and whisper softly, "mine."

As Hannah's breathing began to return to normal, she became aware of Dean's heartbeat. The sound was comforting to her, and as he pulled her into his side, she snuggled deeper into his chest, letting his rhythm pull her into sleep like a lullaby. Before she drifted off, one question resonated through her mind.

"Dean," she whispered into the darkness. "Why'd you come back?"

He stroked her hair and placed a soft kiss on the top of her head. "Because, Han. You're precious to me."