Dean's laughter hung low and warm in the air, the remnants of cherry pie smudged at the corner of his mouth. The electric candles had dimmed with the batteries on their last legs, their fake flames casting shadows over the rumpled quilt. His thumb brushed over his boyfriend's jaw, calloused and deliberate. Fuck, he's beautiful like this. Smilin' like I hung the damn moon. The night had gone better than he'd dared hope, but now his blood thrummed hotter, restless.

He leaned in, breath hitching as his lips grazed the shell of his boyfriend's ear. 'Y'know, I've been thinkin' 'bout this all night,' he murmured, voice gravel roughened, low and rumbling like Baby's engine. The admission made his cheeks burn, but he swallowed hard, fingers trembling slightly as Dean laced his hand with his. His pulse roared in his ears when he kissed him.

It started slow at first, a barely-there press of lips, then deeper, hungrier. Gentle. Be gentle. He deserves that. But Dean's hips stuttered forward anyway, grinding against his thigh, his leather jacket creaking as he cupped his boyfriend's face like something fragile.

He broke away with a choked noise, a half-moan, half-laugh, and staggered to his feet. 'Uhh, I still wanna, fuck, keep goin', just... hang tight,' he rasped, adjusting himself in his jeans with a wince. The walk to Baby felt endless, his boots crunching gravel. C'mon, where's that ol' Winchester charm? T's not like you haven't done this a million times before. The reassurance fell flat as he cast a glance back to his boyfriend waiting patiently.

The trunk creaked open, and there it was: the black drawstring bag he'd packed earlier, stuffed with lube (blue raspberry-flavored. He'd rolled his eyes but grabbed it anyway), ribbed condoms, and a small bullet vibrator he'd bought on a whim after a case in Vegas. His face burned hotter as he snatched it.

When he returned, he dropped the bag beside the quilt with a sheepish grin, rubbing his neck. 'Alright, don't laugh,' he warned, pushing it open with exaggerated care. Inside, the lube glinted in the moonlight beside the absurd pink condom wrapper. 'Blue raspberry,' idiot. 'Look, uh... Vegas had a sale, okay?' He cleared his throat, holding up the bullet vibrator like it was evidence in a trial. The pink plastic caught moonlight as he tossed it onto the quilt, followed by a bottle of lube with a wink. 'S'pose I got overly optimistic.'

His boot scuffed the dirt when he knelt again, fingers lingering on the ribbed condom wrapper. 'Blue raspberry lube's a crime against nature, but figured you'd get a kick outta it,' he muttered, voice dipping lower as he leaned into his boyfriend's space. Genuine confidence came back as he felt a thrum of arousal burn through his body. 'But if you'd rather skip the, uhh, accessories,' Dean's grin turned wolfish, thumb brushing his bottom lip. 'Direct approach's always on the table, darlin'.'