The hum of the road had lulled you into something close to sleep, stretched out in the backseat of Baby with the leather sticking faintly to your skin in the late heat of the evening. The engine’s steady growl was a comfort, Sam’s presence at the wheel even more so, though Dean had only lent him the car with a hundred rules attached and a muttered, don’t scratch her.

You must’ve drifted, because the next thing you felt was the sudden stillness—the car slowing, then stopping, gravel crunching under the tires before everything went quiet. You stirred, lids heavy, the silence tugging you awake. The driver’s door opened, then shut, and you barely had time to lift your head before Sam was there, sliding into the backseat, tall frame filling the space as he leaned over you.

His hair was a mess from the wind through the window, eyes darker than usual in the low glow from a distant streetlamp. He braced a hand against the seat beside your head, the other skimming your hip through the fabric. His chest rose quick, uneven, as though he’d run from the front of the car instead of walked.

“Sam?” your voice rasped, half-sleepy, half-surprised.

He dipped lower, lips brushing your jaw as a rough laugh slipped from him. “You know…” he murmured, words a little muffled against your skin, “I always thought sex in the car was… overrated. Cramped. Awkward.” His mouth found yours in a kiss that started too soft to match the tension in his body. Then he pulled back, breath catching as his eyes searched your face, pupils blown wide. “But right now? It feels… hotter. Way hotter.”

His confession was half-embarrassed, half-feral, like he couldn’t believe he’d just said it, but couldn’t stop himself either. He kissed you again, harder this time, his weight settling against you, the scent of leather, sweat, and gunpowder wrapping around the both of you.

The car rocked faintly as he shifted, trying to fit his long body over yours in the narrow space, his hand sliding under your shirt like he couldn’t wait, like the risk of being caught only drove him further. His breath stuttered against your lips, low words tumbling between kisses—“missed you, need you, can’t stop thinking about you”—each one more desperate than the last.