Author's note: I do not own these characters and no copyright infringement is intended. Please, read, enjoy and review! This is the beta read, updated version so all editing errors should have been corrected. If you see something, please, let me know! :)


Chapter 2

Dean trotted across the street, barely noticing the speed he was picking up as the distance between them closed. He had caught her eye before he'd reached the end of the motel's drive and she hadn't taken her eyes off him since. Once again, they were swept up into the allure of each other. Briefly, Dean acknowledged to himself the unspoken exchange that was taking place, but the thought was so fleeting that it barely had time to form any cohesion. Instead, he found himself thinking only of how he was going to get through this without sounding like a mindless idiot.

Her head was lowered and she was looking up at him, smiling and gently biting her lower lip. As he reached her, she readjusted herself on the trunk, not quite standing, but no longer leaning as much.

Without speaking, Dean stepped closer...close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating from her. He could smell the scents of the diner on her and absently wondered if she would taste of them too.

"Hi..." he said softly, smiling at her.

She smiled back, put her hand on his chest and gently laughed, her breath caressing his face. "Hi...," she whispered through her own smile.

Never breaking eye contact, Dean brought one hand up and covered hers with it. The other hand rose slowly to her shoulder and glided under her hair to the back of her head. He pulled her gently toward him. When their lips met, they both sighed with satisfaction.

Her lips were full. Her mouth was soft...warm and wet...sweet.

Under the smells of the diner, he caught the deliciously clean aroma of her shampoo and soap.

The kiss deepened and as the fire between them grew, Meranda gradually pressed her body into Dean's with apparent longing. Slowing the kiss, Dean gently pulled away, his breath catching in his throat when he tried to speak.

"What...what is this?" he breathed in amazement.

Panting she answered, "I don't know, but it feels…right...and I like it."

Her soft, warm hands had moved to his neck. She pulled him forward, pressing his hungry mouth against her own again. As she kissed him tenderly, Dean responded in kind. When their mouths parted again, the sounds of their ragged breathing seemed loud to their ears.

Dean could hear the muted sounds of the Scorpions belting out "No One Like You" from inside the bar.

Laughing under his breath, Dean asked, "Do you wanna go inside?"

"Not here...," Meranda replied with a smile.

Under any other circumstances, the first question he'd have asked would have been whether or not the seats in her car recline. If the answer to that question was "no", he would've followed up by asking her how opposed she was to getting at least half-naked in the woods. If the answer to that question was on the scale anywhere near "very", he'd then inquire about her living arrangements and if it would be possible to go there. It was what Sam lovingly referred to as the Dean Winchester Flow Chart of Sex.

But something about that approach seemed wrong with her. He'd only taken a few girls back to their room when Sam was there and his brother was always kind enough to pretend to be a sound sleeper. Later, Sam would later tease him about the sounds and banter he'd endured during his make-believe slumber. This was one time that he knew he'd welcome the hardship because it would mean that whatever was happening between him and Meranda had been taken to the next level.

"Where? You wanna go back to our room? Sammy's pretty much a light-weight when it comes to staying awake. I mean, if he lays down for more than five minutes he's out...like a freakin' light! And he's a sound sleeper too. Even if one of us was a screamer, we'd be safe..." He paused before adding, "I kinda know that because I'm usually the screamer." He hoped against hope that he didn't sound as desperate as he felt.

Still holding her against him, he felt her chest begin to vibrate and rumble. The laugh that emerged from her was throaty, sexy…and infectious.

"Is that a yes?" he chuckled.

She looked into his eyes and bit her bottom lip. She drew in a deep breath then slowly released it. Smiling, she nodded her head in agreement.

Dean released the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. Doing his best to contain his exhilaration, he took her hands in his and kissed each of them. He started to turn and head back toward the motel when Meranda pulled away.

"Wait, my car!"

"Oh yeah...it's probably not a good idea to leave it here," Dean said, remembering the railroad ties. Realizing that it also meant they'd be at the room in a fraction of the time it would take them to walk, he added, "Here, let me get your door for you."

Even though they were parked at the motel and walking toward the door in just under a two minutes, to Dean's racing mind it had felt like much longer. He suddenly realized that since Sam had gotten the room alone, he didn't have a key. He tried the knob and sighed with relief when it turned under his grip.

To make sure that Sam was "decent", Dean stuck his head in first. The bedspreads were a hideous combination of blues and greens in an offensively large paisley pattern he'd seen in dozens upon dozens of other rooms much like this one. The curtains were made of the same grotesque material and pattern. Dean wondered momentarily if there'd been a sale or if maybe there was a store somewhere that specialized in this kind of cheap, ludicrous crap.

Sam was already showered and lying propped up in the double bed furthest from the door watching television. The fragrance of his shampoo and deodorant masked the musty smell that all barely used rooms carry.

"Dude…," Dean whispered harshly, using his eyes to signal to Sam that he wasn't alone. Sam wondered if he knew that every time he did that, his head tilted a little in the direction he was trying to point with his eyes, surely giving him away to whomever was behind him. Dean was anything but subtle.

With a smirk, Sam shook his head a little and assumed the position. He knew that it might be too late to feign sleeping. If he wasn't quick enough he might have to make a show of being drowsy for awhile first. Either way, sleep would more than likely follow quickly because honestly, he was tired.

Once Sam was in the prone position, his head facing away from the door, Dean entered with Meranda in tow. She glanced around at the room's furnishings – two double beds and a lone nightstand holding a phone shared a wall, a tiny refrigerator and a long low dresser that held the television were on the wall opposite. Beside the dresser, a small round table with two threadbare chairs, all three pieces scarred with cigarette burns sits across from the door that is obviously to the bathroom. Despite the meager accommodations, the boys' belongings being sprinkled throughout the room have somehow given it a safe, homey feel...a laptop on the table with a pen and notebooks stacked neatly beside it, clothes folded on the dresser, a cup and clock radio on the bedside table...even the towel Sam used draped across the doorknob to the bathroom. Again she found herself smiling.

While Meranda was taking in the ambiance of the room, or lack thereof as it were, Dean had been busy securing the door's locks, turning down the television and putting his jacket over one of the chairs. Passing Sam's bed, he glanced at Sam who gave him a quick wink and closed his eyes. Without breaking stride, Dean continued to his side of the room. His eyes met hers and again they were locked on each other. The pull they had on each other was so primitive in nature that it felt instinctual.

She slid her purse from her shoulder as he reached the foot of the empty double bed. As she let it fall to the floor and began sliding off her shoes, Dean stopped and glanced at the clock. Without second thought, he made his way to the radio and moved one of the switches. One great thing about Sammy setting up, he always knew that finding a good station on the radio was in the top five on the priority list. After the muted click of the switch, the radio announcer's voice flowed into the room giving the call letters of the station.

Dean, his eyes locked onto hers, slid his own shoes off and climbed up onto his knees on the bed. He let his eyes wander down her body, back to her face and solidified their gaze again. He reached out his hand to her and she took it, mirroring his stance on the bed. Again, he could feel her breath stroking his skin.

As Whitesnake's "Slow and Easy" exuded from the radio, he slowly brushed his nose against hers, their lips touching ever so slightly. His hands moved to her face and took in the softness of her skin, while at the same time her hands began exploring his body. He slid his mouth from hers and followed the line of her jaw to her throat and neck. As he let his mouth wander over these areas, he could hear her ragged breath and feel her shutter under his touch. One of her hands had left his back and was eagerly rubbing the back of his head, pressing his mouth firmly to her skin. The hand still on his back had clenched his shirt and was pulling him to her in earnest appetence.

The rest of the night was a blur of sheer bliss. They took their time exploring each other's bodies, torturing each other with slow, calculated moves. Pleasuring each other to completion until sleep overtook them both. They lay tangled in what was left of the sheets. Just before drifting off, Dean's mind as much spent as his body, he realized that his face almost ached with the smile he wore. The last coherent thought that ran through his mind before sliding under slumber's pull was, "Maybe we should stay a little longer..."