Meg looked at the grey water swirling around her feet. At least it's not black anymore. That's progress. Getting cleaner… She lathered her hands again and soaped her body yet another time. "That's my job." Dean growled in a gravelly-tired voice as he climbed into the shower. Meg shrugged a shoulder as she pushed the bar of soap into his chest and reached for the shampoo. She raised an eyebrow in perturbed shock when the bottle was snatched from her hand. "I said, 'that's my job.'" Four times as much shampoo as Meg would usually use was poured into his much larger palm before the bottle was dropped onto the floor and his hands were plunged into her hair. Wordlessly he rubbed along her scalp, not knowing the 'right' way to wash someone else's hair. Then he moved her so the spray would hit more directly and rinse the soap from her hair. This pressed certain body parts more closely together. "We need to do this when we aren't so damn exhausted." He thought the sound she made was one of agreement. Pulling Meg from the direct shower stream, Dean kissed her forehead and ordered, "You head to bed. I'll finish and be there soon."

Meg shook her head. "I need to wash one more time. The water hasn't run clear yet." Dean snagged the washcloth and looked for the soap that he'd dropped when he'd grabbed for the shampoo. Meg found it first by the drain and crouched down to get it. Dear me… I'm level with his cock. He said we were exhausted but someone is happy to see me. She handed him the bar of soap but didn't move. Dean put the soap in the washcloth and started to work up a lather, blocking his view of her crouched position, until he froze like a statue when Meg's hand touched his thigh. Seconds later, she licked the very end of him like she was tasting the tip of a soft-serve ice cream cone. Light, easy, barely there. Dean knew she was there. Her fingers slowly wrapped around, one…by…one… and then slid up and down… stroking him. Her tongue came back for another taste but this time stayed longer, preceding a tantalizing dip between her lips. Dean had to look, to watch. He grasped hold of the shower bar with one hand and clutched the soap in the other. Meg looked up and met Dean's eyes. She opened her mouth and took him in. The soap hit the shower floor. Dean dropped the washcloth as he moaned, thrust, and reached for her all at the same time. Meg didn't break eye contact as she sucked on him harder. He moaned again, pulling on the shower bar hard enough to make it groan. The intensity of looking into each other's eyes as she knelt at his feet and pushed him closer to the brink was hotter than anything either one had experienced. Dean let go of the shower bar and grabbed Meg's arm to pull her up. "D…" Before she could finish saying anything, Dean had pulled Meg to her feet, spun her around, bent her over at the waist, and muttered a quick, "Hang on." He kept one hand solidly on her hip and the other played with her clit as his face lay against her spine. He was inside of her, pounding against her as if he'd lost the ability to fight the baser instincts. This was primal. This was rutting. This was f#cking. After a day like today, Meg needed it just like this. She threw back her head and screamed as she came.