A/N: This whole thing started when pal stephaniew came to me looking for a title for a fic she was working on. I love playing with titles, especially ones like this that are a play on a song (if it isn't obvious, Usher's Love in this Club). It didn't fit Steph's story, but I was having too much fun with it and began spouting off images it provoked for me. Suddenly, I said "Shit! I want that for Dean and Jo!" Fortunately for me (and you *wink*), she's incredibly understanding...and a jewel for betaing this once it was done considering her busy schedule! Check out her profile for lots of Dean heat and leave her some yummy reviews!

My muse threw me a massive curveball. Apparently she's decided this will tie together two other one-shots - The Bet and The Bet, Part II (coming soon). They can stand alone, but they'll share common facts and reference the other pieces.

I hope this reads as naughtily as the "...movie, yeah, rated R..." that played out in my head.

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural...if I did, Dean would spend a lot more time shirtless or naked.

Love in this...Tub?

The soft scent of lavender and chamomile fills the air around her. Millions of tiny bubbles fizz and burst against her bare skin. This combination soothes and helps relax away the aching tension in the extremities of a sassy, young woman as she sinks beneath the warm water in the old cast iron tub.

It isn't easy being one of only a handful of female hunters, but that hasn't stopped Joanna Beth Harvelle. Even more difficult than being one of a proud few is being in a relationship with a man she's known for years yet doesn't get to see nearly often enough. A man who was supposed to have been here three days ago but got waylaid by a pair of ghouls just outside of Detroit.

Feeling her skin beginning to prune, she uses her toes to pluck the chain on the stopper and sighs as the liquid begins to drain away. She pushes up and steps over the edge before reaching to wrap a towel around her slender body. As the notes of Can't Fight This Feeling come through her headphones, she smiles. Nothing like a little REO and Kevin Cronin's heartfelt voice wrapping around the lyrics in a velvet caress. And so she begins to sing.

Dean climbs the staircase in a hurry to find Jo, smiling as he hears her singing their song. When he cracks the door open and sees her in front of the mirror, belting the words into the back of her hairbrush, his expression changes to a full-on grin.

He glances down the hall before his eyes fall back to the stairs. No one. No Sam or Bobby, no sign of Ellen. Quietly, he slips into the room and snicks the lock gently into place. He moves behind her, slipping his arms around her waist and placing a kiss at the tender point where her neck and shoulder meet.

Jo startles, her eyes flying up to the mirror as the brush clatters into the basin in front of her. She gasps, leaning back against his chest as his fingers dig into the terry-cloth at her hips. His mouth glides up the sensitive skin of her neck and she bites back a moan.

When their eyes meet in the glass before them, his hands snake artfully up the front of the towel to cup her breasts before moving to the twist at her cleavage. "It's been too long," Dean whispers. "I want you."

Jo shivers as the wildfire of his breath dances against her skin. "We..." she begins, her own breath catching as he plucks at the towel. "The door..."

"Locked," he answers, his tongue flickering behind her ear. She smells flirty and feminine. He draws a gulp of air, still surprised at the smoothness of her skin beneath his hands. Everything is still so new. Each time he's with her is a gift.

Jo licks her lips, struggling to remember to breathe as his fingers and mouth continue to wander. "But Mom and Bobby..." her voice is quiet. "And Sam..."

He spins her around, pressing the small of her back into the sink as her towel falls to the floor. His lips plunder hers, his tongue taking hungry possession of her mouth. He groans as her hands fist in his t-shirt and she struggles against his embrace to remove it. He grins at her as the article joins her towel. "I guess we'll just have to be quiet then."

Jo watches, nibbling her lip, as Dean sits on the lid of the toilet and removes his boots. She catches the wicked glint in his eyes as they search the room and wonders what, exactly, is going through his head.

Stripping off the rest of his clothing, he stands before her. His body is all sinewy muscle. The hard lines are dangerous and sharp. It's breathtaking knowing what this man is capable of - both as a hunter and as a lover. She gulps, "This is a bad idea. We really shouldn't..."

His arms are around her, his mouth and hands traveling in fiery pathways over her naked flesh. His touch is full of passion and filled with unspent desire. "What's the matter, Jo?" he goads her, tongue laving at her pulse point. "Scared you'll scream my name?"

That was part of it, sure. But Ellen Harvelle wasn't stupid. She'd taken one look at her daughter the first time she'd come home after being with Dean and known without being told it had happened. It wasn't exactly like Bobby or Sam - especially Sam - were exactly in the dark either.

"Dean..." she whimpers as his teeth scrape gently over her collarbone. But the heat and texture of his skin brushing against hers is intoxicating. He's every bit as irresistible as he thinks he is.

Dean knows he has her where he wants her. Knows that he's coming incredibly close to getting what he wants. His fingers taunt her, the rough pads of their tips brushing in featherlight circles, joining his mouth in assaulting her senses.

Jo takes the advantage, pushing him until he sits on the edge of the tub. She stands between his knees. "Aren't you a cocky asshat?" she teases, her hands brushing over his neck and settling on his shoulders. She raises an eyebrow. "How do you know it's not that I don't want Mom hearing you scream my name?"

He smirks, his mouth fastening around her nipple. He strokes his tongue over the bud before popping it loose to stare up at her as his thumb brushes over it's mate. "I'm pretty sure you'd break first..."

Slinging a foot over the edge of the tub, she seats herself in his lap. Pressed chest to chest with him, she leans to tug the lobe of his ear between her lips. "Mmm," she hums softly, barely scraping her nails up the back of his neck. "You sure about that, Dean-O?" she purrs. "You wanna bet on it?"

"Haven't we already played that game?" he asks, peppering her with kisses.

"What's the matter, Dean?" she teases. "Afraid you won't get lucky twice?"

He's already lucky. He's got her. He licks his lips and she watches as his tongue passes over the tiny freckle on his lower lip. "You're playing with fire, Harvelle," he snorts.

Jo smiles, nuzzling her nose against his. "If you can't stand the heat, you shoulda stayed outta the kitchen, Winchester..."

He looks at her, his green eyes flashing with lust as he remembers the way she drove him crazy in her mother's kitchen. AC/DC and You Shook Me All Night Long would never be the same again. Ever. Getting lucky didn't come close to describing what happened that night...more aptly the night that came several weeks later in a motel room just outside of Tulsa. The night that he'd finally claimed her...and one he's sure he'll never forget.

They're all hands. Teasing and tormenting. Working into a frenzy. Mouths collide. Lusty noises - a low growl from him, a hushed moan from her - are swallowed whole before they can pierce the silence.

Jo's feet slip against the wet surface of the tub floor as she pushes her body closer. She bites her lip, tasting blood as she fights to keep from crying out as she slides onto his body. She takes him in, inch by inch, slowly sinking against him.

Dean leans back, his fingers curling around the edge of the sloped back and the opposite side. He grits his teeth as she engulfs him, surrounding him and dragging him in. He watches as she reaches up to loosen her hair from the knot at the nape of her neck. As the golden tendrils fall over her shoulders, he finds himself unable to resist tasting her.

The shift in his position as he pushes up against her makes Jo's eyes roll back as a wave of pleasure threads through her body. The familiar warmth spreads through her belly and down to her toes as Dean's lips devours hers. A delicious throb builds and she can feel the blood rushing through her veins. Strong arms envelop her, tugging her down harder as his needy tongue laps at her mouth. Her head falls back and he moves to her throat.

Dean grunts, struggling to hold back. He strains to keep them both from toppling to the floor or into the tub, a fine sheen of sweat coating his back and shoulders. Jo is impossibly close, it's almost as if she's trying to pull through him. Her hands glide across his back, nails scratching delicately and adding another layer of friction to the fire raging between them.

"Say it," she blows impatiently against his ear. She squirms against him, grinding in his lap playfully.

He tries to still her hips, but his efforts come in vain as she swivels in his grip. He shakes his head, his mouth skimming over her shoulder as his tongue swirls in time with her movements. "Uh-uh," he murmurs.

Jo angles his face to hers, forcing him to look into the depths of her brown eyes. "Say my name," she urges.

"No," he husks, his hands drifting over her thighs. He strokes her softness, his calloused hands making her writhe above him.

She captures his mouth, sucking and licking at his lower lip. It's becoming a battle of wills...but what a pleasurable war to fight.

Dean groans as Jo flexes, her body tightening around his. "You're not playing fair," he complains.

Her soft laughter vibrates through him. "Hmm," she mutters against his neck, undulating against him. "I seem to remember saying that to you not too long ago."

Her voice is sultry. He feels feverish, his blood boiling beneath his skin. He can't take much more. She consumes him, blistering him with her ardor. Every time she rocks against him, she tugs him closer to the edge. He feels himself falling, giving in to her control.

"I know you're thinking about it," she muses. She pushes the urge to cry out deep down inside herself. She focuses on the feel rather than the sounds. He's firm and scorching. He makes her feel untamed and free. "Say it," she demands, "Say. My. Name."

Unable to hold back any longer, he cries out. It's partially at giving in - an act of sweet submission - and partially that his muscles give out. They knock the bottle of bubble bath and a rubber duck from the rack. The items rattling around in the tub as the couple end up on the floor. "Jo!"

She's over him. Riding him, pushing him until he breaks completely, shattering under her even as he clings to her thighs. "Oh, God...Jo..."

Breathing heavily, they lay on the cool tile and worn bath mat. Their fingers entwine and they turn their heads to face each other. A pale blush creeps over Jo's face.

Dean grins at her. "What's my punishment?" he inquires.

Her lips narrow as she tries to keep from smiling. "I'll have to think about it," she replies, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "All I know is tha..."

A knock on the door interrupts them. Dean's eyes slam shut at the fear Ellen's voice will be what crushes this moment. Jo flinches, unknowingly sharing Dean's concern that her mother will make things awkward.

But it isn't Ellen, it's Sam. "Everything all right in there?" he questions. "We heard something fall."

"Yeah," Dean answers. "Jo's just a little clumsy, that's all. Be out in just a minute."

She punches him in the arm. "I'm clumsy?" she mutters under her breath.

"Well, you did knock the..." he begins.

Jo molests Dean's mouth with her own. "I believe I had help..."

Dean dresses quickly and plucks Jo's lips with his own as he fondles the tie on her bathrobe. It's good to be back. Here. With her.

Slipping out of the bathroom, he rubs the back of his neck and worries his lower lip as he joins his brother in the hallway.

"Say my name, Dean," Sam moans laughingly as the two head toward the kitchen.

"Bitch," he snarls.

"Just be glad it was me and not Ellen," his brother answers, clamping a hand on his shoulder.

Dean chuckles uncomfortably. He remembers the look Jo's mother shot him when they got back from Oklahoma. It was like the woman had sexual radar. The elder Harvelle was definitely a force to be reckoned with. And the fact that he was sleeping with her baby girl? Yeah, that quite possibly made her scarier than anything he'd ever hunted. "Dude! Shut your piehole," he answers, his eyes darting around the house. "She might hear you..."

A/N: I love it when Jo makes Dean squirm...

I had been trying to determine what would land Dean in the hot seat for The Bet, Part II...guess now we know!