Jensen drives too fast, cornering too sharp, wheels screaming, mouth grim. I lie sprawled on the backseat, watching his hands run around the leather curves of the steering wheel.

When I'm not stifling the urge to empty the rest of my stomach directly onto the car floor, I'm planning. Planning the perfect time and place and position to thoroughly debauch the asshole who has refused all my advances.

My eyes pop open as a sudden wave of nausea hits me and I sit upright.

"Jensen-" I slap a hand onto my mouth.

Jensen swears under his breath but pulls over, and we lurch to a screeching halt.

Almost before the car lumbers to a stop, I scrabble for the door handle and stagger down into a ditch, feet slipping on the dewy grass, before I bend over and empty the contents of my stomach.

Jensen goes back to the car and returns with a water bottle.

When I finish, I rinse the foul taste from my mouth, and use the remaining water to wash my face.

Puking in a ditch at Jensen Ackles' feet. Oh how the mighty have fallen.

I groan, making a move to straighten up.

"Hey hey, hold on there, cowboy," Jensen warns. And fuck if Mr. Perfect isn't right again. I gasp and feel myself start to sway on the spot as I ignore him and rise to my feet.

I let Jensen drag me away from the ditch and back to the car.

"We need to get you in bed," he mutters.

I wipe my mouth and grin coyly, the alcohol persistent in my bloodstream.

"Thought you'd never ask."

Jensen shakes his head as he holds the passenger door open for me. "There's a filthy mind hiding underneath that nerdy exterior of yours, Mish."

Jensen's voice has dropped an octave and the deep, rumbling tenor batters my raw nerve endings. I scowl and push past him, sliding into the seat before he closes the door behind me.

We arrive at my trailer and I stagger immediately inside, anxious to get out of my smelly, sodden apparel. I throw a gleaming smile over my shoulder at Jensen.

"I'm gonna strip down now. You can change too, if you want."

I'm liking the hell out of the hungry gleam in his eyes. Noting with no little pride that, apparently, expensive tailoring doesn't include room for arousal. Hot damn, lust-crazed Jensen is alluring.

"I should just go back to my trailer..." Jensen blushes, and I wish to fuck that I didn't find that endearing as hell.

"You have to stay and watch me," I insist, shaking my head. "Make sure I'm okay."

He worries his bottom lip between his teeth and I know he's remembering how he owes me in this regard.

I stagger over to the dresser and toss him an old pair of jeans and a t-shirt.

"Go on, you're welcome to use the bathroom." I smile encouragingly.

"And here I thought you'd want me to strip on the spot," Jensen smirks.

"What I want is to watch your gorgeous ass walk away so I can objectify you from every angle."

I know I'm playing with fire but the recklessness is addictive. And the damn alcohol is still raging through my system.

"Voyeur," Jensen grumbles.

My eyes follow the firm contour of his backside as he walks through the open bathroom door and locks it behind him.

Head and stomach aching, I shed my clothes and make quick work of pulling on a pair of sweats and a black tee.

Fuck my life, I think morosely, falling back onto the bed.

"I'm dying, Jensen," I groan, loud enough that he can hear me through the door. "Get your ass back out here and for the love of all that's holy, stick your goddamned tongue in my mouth."

I hear shuffling and then a muffled thump, followed by cursing.

"No, Misha."

Clearly, I've done something terrible in this life, and maybe a past one. Because after a few minutes, Jensen emerges from the bathroom looking like a menswear advertisement in my worn denim.

"You gorgeous bastard," I groan. "This is so unfair."

I swear that man could wear a paper sack and still look like he stepped off the cover of GQ.

He leans on the doorframe, all tight and sinewy, his slim hips caught sharply by a hard ridge of bone jutting out above the waistband of the faded pair of low-slung jeans. And that denim-clad backside. I gulp, almost wishing I hadn't lent him my pants. Almost.

Jensen frowns at me. His tongue darts out, a quick pink flick as he licks his lips that's there and then gone.

"Stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you wanna get laid."

I bark a laugh.

"What, are you gonna tell me that my body is not a conduit to guilty, empty pleasure and get me a warm glass of milk and hold my hand?"

Jensen winces and drops his gaze to the floor, and I shake my head in disbelief. "God save you if you are that gone on me, Ackles."

When he doesn't reply, I decide to keep up the endless, lewd ribbing, in the hopes that it'll finally crack his cool facade. It doesn't.

"You're no fun," I finally pout. "You should be all obliging; I just puked my guts out; I'm sick."

"You're horny," Jensen mutters, tucking the sheets up around my chin. "Don't embellish."

He moves closer, and the air crackles, taut. I preen just a little under his hot gaze, locked in a staring match with no discernible end until, finally, Jensen draws a hand over his face in exasperation.

"You're too fucking pretty for your own good," he complains gruffly, "and you're damn stupid sometimes."

I lift my head with a grin.

"You think I'm pretty?"

Jensen shoves me back down, hard enough to make me wince. So much for Ten Year Planning my way into his pants.

I screw my eyes shut and lie back as he walks away, listening to the sounds of drawers banging and cupboards opening and closing as he shuffles around the trailer.

I burrow under the sheets and my eyes flutter closed as the fingers of sleep threaten to drag me under.

"Hey," Jensen murmurs after a few minutes. His voice is wavery with fatigue but also threaded through with something resembling affection.

I open my eyes and see that he's left an ice pack, a glass of water and some aspirin beside my bed. I reach for the water. It's tepid but wet and soothes my dry, scratchy throat.

But it's not enough to slake the burn in my gut.

"Thank you."

I try not to notice the pretty shadows that fall across his cheekbones from his criminally long eyelashes. Try to block out the grassy hue of his eyes in the moonlight filtering in through the open window. "Um, I'm gonna head back to my trailer now." He surveys the nightside table a final time. "Got everything you need?"

I watch him as he straightens up. Smoking hot, all messy hair and taut little hips that move so gracefully it's almost making me cry. And the sex eyes. And the sex voice.

I swallow thickly.

"No."

He's standing so still and I think for a moment that he isn't breathing, but then his lips part and the tip of a soft, pink tongue appears to wet his lower lip.

He looks conflicted, but I'm experiencing a rare moment of perfect clarity. I finally have Jensen where I want him and I'm almost sober and mostly lucid and fuck if I'm going to miss my chance a second time.

Jensen leans over, excruciatingly slowly, closing the space between us inch by inch.

Heart fluttering erratically in my chest, I let my lids fall to half mast, lashes screening my view of his soft, full lips.

"Drunk you is altogether too damn appealing for your own good," he murmurs, chancing a brush of lips on the sharp curve of my jaw, "and very hard to resist."

His lips explore the planes of my jaw, rub across the feathery rash of lashes shadowing my cheeks, to nuzzle at the wayward curl that persists in flipping forward against my temple. I feel butterfly wings beating against my ribcage, jacking up the tempo of my pulse.

"Jensen..."

When I tilt my head deep to the left, he smiles into the creases of skin.

He nips at the taut patch of exposed throat, dragging up the hem of my tee.

"I really should go." His quickly indrawn breath is hot against my flushed skin.

I swallow, the gravelly timbre of his voice setting my nerve endings on fire as I fight to wrangle enough brain cells together to speak.

"Mmmmno," I gasp softly.

I feel his mouth turn up in a smile against my neck, lips grazing the skin behind my ear. Kissing me everywhere but where I want him. "I have a mouth, you know," I moan.

"Yeah?" The simple slang brushes across my lips in a damp puff.

I whimper, reaching for his face, but Jensen pushes my hand away and chuckles softly.

"God, the others would have a field day if they could see us now."

He leans down to place another soft, lingering kiss on my forehead.

"Hmm," I murmur ruefully. "Not the kiss-and-tell type, I hope?"

His smile is soft and tender.

"No."

I blink rapidly, staring at him and chewing my lip in consternation. His square, masculine jaw is finely stubbled, girlishly long lashes fluttering against lightly freckled cheeks.

"Don't leave." And kiss me properly, goddammit.

"I have to. You'll thank me in the morning," he whispers ruefully. His words, ghosting across the scant inches that separate us, are quiet, layered with the undercurrent of something like pain.

"Please," I mumble. "I want you to stay."

Jensen blinks. I hold his gaze for a long moment before he clears his throat.

He stands up and goes to switch off the lights.

"Okay, but I'm sleeping on the couch."

I smile absently, shutting my eyes and burrowing deeper under the covers.

"Okay."