A/N: Pick your 'verse. Jo didn't die in Abandon All Hope, Jo died but came back...all that matters is that Dean and Jo get naked (or close to it). Together.

Like what you see? Drop me a note.

Many thanks to stephaniew for friendship, support and betaing. Be sure to check out all the wonderful ways she's helped Dean turn up the heat!

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural...though it's a heck of a lot of fun to get Dean all revved up.

I Think We're Alone Now

"Turn off here on the right," Jo tells him, pointing to a dirt road.

Dean looks at her as if she's lost her mind. "Babe, we're in the middle of nowhere..." he growls, his brow furrowing. It's not her fault he's in a bad mood. It's that every hotel and motel room in town was booked for a stupid comic book convention. Well, every one except the one they were lucky enough to be sharing with Sam.

She grins softly and runs her hand along his thigh. "Don't you trust me, Dean-O?" she asks, her voice honey sweet as she bats her eyelashes innocently.

His pants tighten. Her touch and her tone light the short fuse on his waning self control. He stills her hand, stopping it as it inches in a lazy northbound trail. "You're playing with fire," he warns.

"Mmm..." she purrs, licking her lips. "I'm sure you have plenty of hose to put it out..."

The car jerks, skidding to a dusty stop. Before she has time to say anything, he's at her door and dragging her into his arms. A tiny gasp escapes as he pushes her roughly against the car. His mouth is hot and heavy, his tongue stroking desperately as his fingers tangle in her hair. "God, how long has it been since I kissed you?" he groans, hungrily sucking and nipping at her lips.

"Too long," she pants, her fingers fisting in his shirt.

"Damn conventions," he mutters. His voice is dark and lustful, his fingers flirting with the buttons on her shirt.

"Dean," she whimpers as he nuzzles her neck, placing a sucking kiss over her pulse point. She feels warm, almost feverish. When the tip of his tongue teases against her earlobe, her knees buckle beneath her.

The little noises she makes are like a siren's call. He's powerless - weak and unable - to do anything but worship her. He grunts, grinding against Jo as her hands find their way under his shirt and press against the skin of his lower back. He leans against her, his mouth seeking hers in a needy kiss. "Is that old blanket still in the trunk?" he husks, his rough palm skimming over the sheer fabric that separates him from the bare skin of her breasts.

"Mmm hmm," she mumbles, her tongue teasing at his mouth as her hands slip into the back pockets of his jeans. She pulls him closer, savoring the way the hard contours of his body align with the softness of her own. She aches for him. Aches to feel his skin all over hers. To feel him pulsing inside her. She shivers, her skin overheated with arousal.

He flips their positions teasingly and they dance in silly spirals as he fumbles for the key to the trunk. He groans as they part and grabs her hand, pulling her down onto the blanket the second he has it laid out. He's over her, his mouth blazing a trail over her skin as he whispers things he wants to do to her in words that are barely coherent. Tugging the cup of her bra down, his mouth closes around a rosy nipple in a scorching kiss.

She moans, her fingers tangling in his hair as she squirms beneath him. "I'm so hot..." she cries.

He continues to devour her. Licking and teasing. Touching and tasting. Doing everything he's wanted to do for days. All the things he can't do with Sam around. He goes slow, unsure of how long it will be before the next time. Eager to gobble up all the pleasure he can from this night.

She surprises him, pushing him onto his back and straddling him. "You're taking too long," she whispers against his lips. Her touch is intoxicating and she tastes like salvation. Her hands are everywhere as she pulls him to a seated position before yanking off his shirt. Her lips burn like a shot of good whiskey as they caress his shoulder. "Need to feel you," she tells him breathlessly. "Need to feel all of you..."

He pushes her shirt from her shoulders, echoing her trail of kisses. He isn't fooled by the ethereal glow of her fair skin in the moonlight. He knows what the woman above him is capable of. She's far from a delicate, little flower. Outside of Sam, there's no one else he'd trust more to have his back. The fingers of one hand curl around a strap of her bra as those of the other angle her mouth. His tongue slips between her lips on a sigh and he eases it from her shoulder. With greedy hands and a wicked mouth, he moans as he nips at her skin.

She squirms in his lap, adjusting to grind against him. He makes her crazy and drives her wild with every flicker of his tongue and every swirl of his fingertips. "You're teasing me," she fusses.

He pushes his hand beneath the denim skirt she has on, his fingers seeking her core. He tickles her through her panties before brushing under the elastic edging. He sucks in a sharp breath when he finds her soaked. "Jesus," he says, gritting his teeth and feeling himself grow impossibly hard. "So wet," he murmurs against her lips, slipping two fingers inside her.

"Oh, God...yes..." she moans loudly, her body tightening. "You...OH!"

He strokes her, feels her clamp around his assaulting hand. He grins. "I what?" he torments.

Her breathing is ragged. Her eyes blaze when they find his. "Please..." she begs. "More. I want more."

He kisses her, his tongue mimicking the movement of his fingers below. "I what?" he repeats.

"Don't stop," she whimpers. "I... You..."

"Tell me, Jo." His lips ghost over hers. "Tell me what I do to you. Tell me what you want me to do."

Her hand slides over her breast and up to her neck. She worries her lower lip with her teeth, struggling against his fingers. "You make me hot," she answers.

He rewards her with a flicker of his thumb over the bundle of nerves that make up her sweet spot as he flexes his fingers. "What else?"

"You make me wet," she purrs. "So wet. All the time."

He pets her, stroking in and out with the tempo he plans to use later. "Do I now?" he asks.

"Mmm hmm," she says in a voice filled with desire. "Dripping. Just by looking at me..." Her hands grope awkwardly for the button on his jeans, eager to free him to her touch. Eager to do to him what he's doing to her - to level the playing field.

"Are you trying to make this end quick?" he hisses as her hand closes around his swollen length.

"Enough with the foreplay," she whispers, tracing the shell of his ear with her tongue. "Take what's yours, Winchester. Take me. Now."

"But I haven't gotten to taste you yet," he complains, pumping her again. He withdraws his fingers, sucking the digits into his mouth. "And you taste so..."

She watches him and strokes her fingers in response. As she expects, it makes him pounce and she's beneath him. "You're so easy," she teases. "All I have to do is rub you the right way..."

His lips are firm on hers. His tongue tickles her mouth and she feels him tugging at her panties. He chuckles as she arches beneath him. His body aches to be buried in hers. He longs to feel her wrapped around him. To hear her moaning his name. But he waits. Steadies his breathing. Steadies himself. Because what matters more than anything is pleasing her. Leaving her satisfied.

She moves against him. "For the love of..." she moans as he slides into her. "Yes. Yes, Dean... Oh, yes..."

He rocks against her - into her - caught in the current of her pleasure and feeling everything she feels as her body reacts to his. "I love how you feel," he hums, kissing her throat. He pulls a leg around his hip, thrusting deeply as his hand skims over her outer thigh.

She moans, tracing the muscles of his back and squeezing his bottom. His voice is an addiction. Before him, she'd always been afraid to talk in bed. With other lovers - not that there'd been many - she'd been quiet. With Dean she was free. Free to touch. Free to explore. Free to share all the dirty thoughts that filled her head.

His mouth singes her neck as his hands wander her curves, pulling her closer - tighter - to him. He lavishes her in fervent kisses. "God, baby..." he breathes. "So good. Feels so good."

When she moves against him, her fingers digging into his shoulders, he bites his lip. "Do you know what you do to me?" he rasps. He kisses across her cheek to capture her mouth. "You mark me and make me yours," he says softly. "You make me forget that you weren't my first," he thrusts shallowly. "That you aren't my only..." Deeper this time.

He feels her body clench around his. Feels the quake of her orgasm rocketing through him. He shifts again, ratcheting her higher and sending her tumbling into the abyss. In a voice not his own, he whispers tenderly, "God help me... I want you to be my last..." his tongue tangles with hers and he swallows her cries. Unable to hold back any longer, he joins her in one last climax.

He pulls her against his chest and brushes his lips over her forehead. They try to catch their breath in silence, the sound of crickets echoing in the night. He's beginning to worry, starting to think he's said something wrong, when she speaks.

"Dean?" she whispers. It's small and quiet, nearly lost in the cacophony of the evening sounds.

He takes a deep breath, knowing that it's time to face the music. "Yeah, Jo?" he answers.

"Did you..." she pauses. She knows that sometimes men blurt out things in bed. Things they don't really mean. But she needs to know. She needs to know and he's given her an opening. "Did you mean it?" she asks in the same tiny tone. "I mean we haven't talked about it, so..." she trails off. "I mean, I..."

"Hey," he says, tightening his arm around her when she tries to move away. "Don't do that..."

She pulls up, pulls back just enough to look into his eyes. "Did you mean it, Dean?" Having steeled herself for his answer, she's stronger. "The part about wanting me to be your last? Because we..."

He pulls her mouth down to his. He would never get enough of her kisses. "If I did," he says carefully, "How would that make you feel?"

"That's not an answer," she huffs. Her face falls and she bites her lip. "It's okay if you..."

"We haven't talked about forever or what comes next," he interrupts, twining his fingers with hers. He looks at their joined hands. Looks at the way the moonlight shines in her hair and her eyes. It's not what he planned. But it somehow feels right. He gulps. "But, yes," he sighs. "Yes, I meant it. And as far as I'm concerned, you already are."