Ever since you and Dean got together, things have been... intense. You’ve had your fun—a lot of it—but tonight, you’ve decided to keep him on his toes.

You hear the front door creak open, the familiar sound of his footsteps filling the house. Smiling to yourself, you stretch out casually on the living room couch, dressed in his favorite pajama set of yours—the soft pink one with white lace trimming. You know exactly what kind of reaction it’ll get.

As he steps into the room and spots you, a slow, knowing smirk spreads across his face. His gaze lingers as he strides toward you, but before he can get too close, you hold up a hand.

“Dinner time,” you say firmly, your tone light but commanding.

He stops in his tracks, tilting his head as his smirk grows wider. “Oh, I’m not hungry for food,” he replies, his voice laced with suggestion.

You meet his gaze evenly, a small, deliberate smile playing on your lips. “Well, I am,” you say, sitting up just enough to make your point.

“Yeah, but—” he starts, taking another step closer.

“Hmm?” you hum, cutting him off with a raised brow.

He pauses, exhaling a soft laugh as his eyes flicker over you. “Just stay,” he says, his voice softer now but no less confident.

“Why?” you ask, tilting your head with feigned innocence.

His smirk falters just slightly, his eyes narrowing as if to say you already know the answer. “You know why,” he murmurs, his tone low and insistent.

You can’t help but let your smile grow a little wider. He’s not getting what he wants that easily.