Both brows arched upwards as she stepped out of the bathroom, all dressed in burgundy and looking feminine and sexy and classy all at the same time. "Now, that's a dress," he said with an appreciative smile, as he looked her up and down.
"This is the kind of thing a grown-ass woman wears," she pointed out, gesturing a little helplessly to her own chest, displayed tastefully with low cut lace. "I, uh ... I kinda like it, though. With, you know, heels." She rose onto her toes to give some impression of the height she was going to gain from shoes.
"I like it, too," he remarked, setting the cup on a nightstand and moving to his feet. It wasn't often he got to see Jo in a dress, and he wanted to enjoy every minute of it. "You look ..." He was temporarily at a loss for words, and that was a rarity for Dean Winchester. Awesome wasn't quite the word he was looking for. "Gorgeous," he continued, though other words came to mind, such as amazing and sexy.
Her expression softened. That wasn't a word that came naturally to her Dean's lips; she was more used to being called "awesome" and occasionally "hot", than "gorgeous". She bit her lip, raising her hands to twist her hair up off her neck. "Up or down?" she asked, trusting his opinion better than her own, even in this.
"Mmm, up, I think," he said after a moment's deliberation. It would be that much more fun to undress her and take her hair down later. He settled his hands against her hips, gaze traveling downwards to admire the view once again, especially that of her cleavage. "You should get dressed up more often."
Jo watched his eyes wander, letting her hair fall against her back once again to lay her hands on his arms. "You know, I could be wrong," she said in a wondering tone. "I could be hearing things, but I could have sworn you came about this close to asking me out, princess."
He lifted his gaze, a slow smile spreading across his face. "I didn't think I had to, but I'm willing if you are. Hell, I'll even wear a tie," he told her, which was a big concession for him to make. About the only time he put a tie on was when he was impersonating an FBI agent.
"Mmm, you temptress," she teased fondly, rising onto her toes to brush a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I guess I'm keeping both red dresses, then. And this one needs to be put away so we don't defile it in a moment of debauchery."
"Um, you can keep the green one, too, if you want," Dean suggested, though he wasn't expecting her to go out in that dress so much as wear it to fulfill a fantasy or two of his. "Can we defile the other one instead?" he asked, with a playful grin.
"The green one, huh?" Her smile widened to a grin, knowing exactly where his mind was wandering on that count. It really was just as well Bertie was with his honorary grandparents for the day. "You want the killer heels, too, or just the dress?"
"The killer heels, definitely," he told her. Those were like icing on the cake. It was all about painting a picture, after all, and setting the scene, and the scene he had in mind was definitely not for children.
She laughed, pulling him down into a slow kiss. "Then I guess I'm squeezing my butt into that red dress again," she conceded with a grin, nipping his lower lip. It had been a long time since they'd been able to play like this. She'd never realized how much having a child would put a cramp in their sex life.
"Don't worry," he murmured against her lips. "It won't be on for long," he promised, returning that kiss with one of his own, soft, and slow, and lingering. He reached around her to look for a zipper, though this wasn't the dress he was fantasizing getting her out of.
Jo giggled into his kiss, reaching back to slap his hand gently. "Patience, grasshopper," she told him. "If you take this one off, you'll forget you wanted the other one on."
"Why can't I take them both off?" he asked, though he already knew the answer to that. If he took this one off, it wasn't very likely she'd end up putting the other one on.
"Because this one is for when you're all dressed up, too," she informed him impishly, rippling her fingers down his chest to gently pull away from the wrap of his arms. "It's for teasing you all day with the knowledge that you get to take it off at the end of that day. The other one? Let's see how far we get, shall we?" She winked at him, catching the skirt in one hand as she slipped away into the bathroom.
"Yes, dear," he replied obediently, as he let her slip away from him. If that was the dress she wanted to wear to Sam's wedding, then the least he could do was hold himself back until she changed into something they could play in. He had no doubt they'd get pretty far, but how quickly they got there was the real question.
Her laughter floated out to him from the bathroom at his obedient response, knowing perfectly well that if she took too long in there, he would likely come in to get her. Thankfully, it was less effort to get the tight red number on second time around, though it rolled up to her hips as she contorted to get the heels on with it. Rolling it down, she ran her hands through her hair, twisting the blonde length up and securing it with a stick, before gathering the armful of dresses to slip back into the bedroom and begin hanging up the ones she was keeping. "Enjoying the view again, princess?"
By the time she got out of the bathroom, he had already stripped out of his shoes, socks, belt, and flannel shirt, but was still clad in t-shirt and jeans, eagerly awaiting her arrival. He whistled appreciatively again, but this time allowed his gaze to travel up and down and didn't try to fight what that view was doing to his body. "Since I first laid eyes on you, even if you were poking me with a rifle."
"Technically you didn't lay eyes on me until you hit me to get the rifle out of my hands," she pointed out in amusement, closing the door of the closet to turn and laugh at his preparation for their afternoon delight. "So vindicated that I'm one of just a handful of people who've punched Dean Winchester and lived to tell the tale."
"Hit you? I didn't hit you. You hit me!" Dean reminded her, rubbing the spot on his face where she'd hit him, as if it had only just happened. And he'd been punched plenty of times, but he wasn't about to remind her of that fact. In fact, he'd been punched so many times that he thought he knew what a punching bag felt like, but none of that was going to keep him from making out with her.
She laid her hands on her hips, tilting her head as she grinned at him. "Oh, really? So what was the whack on my arm with the rifle for, huh?" Ever since she'd had her memories returned to her, Jo had discovered a treasure store of incidents from their shared past she could tease him with, and this was just one of them.
"Honey, if I hit you, you'd know it," he insisted with a stupid grin. Somehow, she just didn't look very stern standing there with her hands on her hips in that little red dress. Who cared about the color, anyway? It was the way the dress accentuated Jo's curves that made it so trashy ... er, sexy. "What do you say we find out if it's any easier getting you out of that thing as it was to get you into it?" he said, closing the distance between them, that patented Dean smirk on his face as he wet his lips.
"Baby, you got me right in the heart when I made your nose bleed," she assured him with a low laugh, walking her fingertips up over his chest as he closed the distance, the tip of her nose circling his with her smiling mouth teasing his lips just shy of a real kiss. "Is this the point where I say I'm spending the afternoon with a little friend called self-respect, or did I grow out of that?"