"Truth or truth?" Dean asks, grinning a little sideways in that way that lets you know he's just the right amount of drunk.
Truth or truth is the game you play when you're both feeling a little wound up, needing to blow off some steam. You're too old for stupid dares and too nervous for dares that might actually make you touch each other, so you settle for sticking to truths. It never amounts to anything, but you both enjoy the sexy words said in the dark as you lie together on one bed, a bottle being passed between you, like you have a life and a personality outside of monsters.
"Truth," you grin, turning off the lamp and starting the ritual with a swallow of whiskey.
"When was the last time you had sex?"
"That's kind of a boring one, isn't it?"
Dean shrugs and waits for your answer.
"Umm...about a month ago? That haunting in Albuquerque."
Dean snorts a laugh. "You had sex with that guy?"
"No. I had sex with the police officer. The one with dark hair? Sweet smile?"
Dean takes a drink and doesn't say anything, indicating that it's your turn to ask a question.
"What about you?"
"I, uh. I guess almost two months? A woman from a bar. She was fun."
You push at his arm. "Two whole months? No wonder you're taking extra long showers these days."
"Hey, a man has needs. Don't judge me."
There's a comfortable silence as Dean takes another drink and you settle deeper into the bed, your sides not actually touching, but close enough to feel his heat.
"It's your turn," you eventually remind him.
"I know. I'm just trying to think of a good one I've never asked you before."
This time, the silence is so long you wonder if he's fallen asleep.
But then he murmurs into the darkness. "What's your record?"
"My what?"
"Your record. How many times have you come in one night?"
Oh.
This is not a question you want to answer.
You could lie. But you're a terrible liar and Dean would probably know. And you've hesitated long enough that Dean knows something's up anyway. He turns to face you, props his head in his hand, and you can smell the alcohol on his breath. "What?" He sounds concerned.
"Nothing. I just. Uh. Twice."
"That's it? No one has ever been able to make you come more than that?"
You're too honest right now, and your mouth just keeps moving despite your brain screaming at it to stop. "No, I've only come twice. Like, ever."
"Fuck. You're sleeping with the wrong people, then. At least you can do it yourself, right?"
You sigh, a little frustrated now, though you aren't sure if that's because of Dean or because of the truth of this situation. "No, you don't get it. I've only had two orgasms in my entire life. Sex is always really fun, but most of the time that part...just doesn't happen. And it isn't because of the guys."
"I doubt it's because of you," Dean argues.
"Except that I've never been able to make myself come."
It's too dark to really see his expression, but you can feel it. He's staring, probably gaping, and you blush under the scrutiny.
"Do you want to?" he asks.
