Fuck, he did not think this through. His hand went up and down faster as his head lolled against the motel pillow, your panties that he'd stolen from your suitcase feeling so damn good on his aching length. You'd gone out with Dean to get some dinner, leaving just enough time for him to release his pent up energy from your teasing all day. The two of you had yet to really have sex, and it was driving him nuts. His best friend for years since he met you at Stanford, and now the woman of his deepest desires. Not just sex. But for everything. But you were a fucking tease. More so than he had anticipated. Bending over at every opportunity, staring innocently into his eyes as you lick your fingers after you eat, leaving the bathroom door cracked and standing just where he could see you showering. Only you could make him so achingly hard even in the most innocent situations. He groans, feeling himself tense up and drench your lacy gray panties in his arousal, slowly coming to a stop and wiping the sweat from his brow.

"Fuck sweetheart…"

He murmurs, wishing it was your hand that had been on him instead of his own. He jumps, hearing the door unlock as he hastily yanks up his jeans and tries to act normal. Dean whines angrily as he walks in the room, clearly in another bickering session with you.

"I'm telling you, the next time we go to Louisiana, we're stopping at that damn diner. You have to like the bacon there-"

He stops his sentence, snickering as he sees Sam.

"Jesus, Sam. Good look."

You glance over, seeing a disheveled Sam sitting stiffly in his bed.

"Took a nap…"

He murmurs, rubbing his eyes. Dean eyes the panties, grinning a bit.

"Uh huh. Maybe hide the evidence before lying next time, Sammy. Buy the girl some new g-strings while you're at it."

Sam blushes, hastily shoving the panties under the sheets and looking mortified.

"I'm really sorry."

He whispers, looking up at you like he'd be okay if you sentenced him to death.