The motel, tucked away on the edge of an endless motorway, breathes the weariness of the setting night. Yet from behind the walls, sounds emerge, shattering the fragile boundaries of decency. The bed beyond the thin partition creaks rhythmically, accompanying the woman's mewls as though she's performing a lascivious serenade. You sit on the bed, clutching a bottle of beer. Sam lies sprawled on his bed opposite, idly, much like a cat basking in the fading evening sun.

“Isn't it kinda loud for a place like this?” His voice is husky⎯a crackle reminiscent of a vinyl record playing a favourite song. “Guess it's their idea of a promotion: Pleasure Motel.”

You snort, taking a swig from the bottle to avoid answering. The fire between the two of you no longer blazes, but it smoulders⎯an irritating smoke that makes you cough up memories. You both know this has all happened before, but now you decide to remain friends, trying not to recall how the outlines of both your bodies blur in the darkness.

“Well, at least they're havin' fun,” Sam continues, taking a sip of beer and swinging the bottle towards the wall. “Though, to be real, I think they're overdo'n it. Looks more like they're tryna win a contest.”

Noticing your smile, he carries on: “Let's turn it up a notch and show 'em how it's really done.” The corner of his lips quirks into a smirk. “I remember⎯you weren't exactly shy.”

The offer is so unexpected that your cheeks burn; you snap your head up, throwing dagger-like glances at the young man. Sam chuckles, placing the bottle on the bedside table.

“C'mon, don't be like that,” the hunter beckons with two fingers. Green eyes settle on you as if peeling back layers of fabric to expose you beneath. His smile still holds that puppyish naivety, but now there are new notes⎯a streak of audacity. You narrow your eyes and toss a pillow at him, but Sam doesn't even flinch, catching you again with a gaze that edges dangerously close to making you forget all your agreements, and surrender to the familiar warmth of his hands.