AN: I was just about to drift off to sleep when this popped into my head. I had to write it. It's pretty safe to read. Just a little bit of language and some brief imagery. Not smut.


She moaned against his mouth. His hand made its way south to cup her smooth, round ass in a firm grip.

He trailed a line of kisses down his lover's throat to her breasts.

She arched back in ecstasy as she called his name—


Dean's head snapped up as he attempted to hide what he'd had in his hands under his pillow.

"Hey." He cleared his throat and tried again. "Hey, Sammy."

Sam's face was more amused than anything as he stepped in further into the room. "What was that?"

Dean straightened as far as his bruised body would let him. His face was a picture of innocence. "What was what?"

"The thing you had in your hand and hid under your pillow just now," Sam answered.

Damn. Busted. "Umm. Skin mag." Dean shrugged. He cleared his throat again and averted his eyes.

Sam looked at him. Damn that annoying "I know something's up" face.

Sam smirked. Yeah, Dean hated that look. "Oh, I dunno, Dean. Looked more like a romance novel than a skin mag to me. I could have sworn it had Fabio on the cover. Something you're not telling me, Dean?"

Dean's eye twitched as he met his little brother's triumphant expression. Dammit. Fine. "Okay, jeesh. Reception on the TV sucks and there's nothing else to do in this stupid room. You've practically chained me to the bed and it was either this or the Bible." His scowl morphed into a leer. "Besides, it's kind of like porn. You have any idea how many 'heaving breasts' there are in this? I totally dig how lonely housewives like these so much. There's gotta be like five orgasms every chapter."

Sam shook his head and sighed. He didn't know whether to be disgusted or laugh. Only Dean.