You enjoyed kissing him. That's . . . an interesting statement. He can't help the smile that slowly spreads over his face, oddly touched and affectionate. "I never, uh, thought you didn't enjoy sex, Dean." Definitely not when you look at him like that. Though—his brow crinkles again. A thought occurs to him now that the issues has been raised.

He shifts against the door, leaning his shoulder more comfortably into the back of the seat, and slouching down so his leg presses against yours. "Do you enjoy sex? If you didn't, that would explain . . . a lot." In retrospect. "You used to talk often about sex; I never thought to ask you if that was, uh . . ." Something you said rather than felt. If it was a confidence trick, in a sense. "—an act. You're talented at conning people."

Is that part of it? Do you feel obligated to have sex? He didn't want you to feel obligated with him. He's glad that, at least this time, you didn't. That you enjoyed it. That you still want to continue the night.

His boot rubs against yours, helpless to express interest even though he knows they shouldn't have sex. He wasn't going to have sex with you. But now they're talking about it and you're looking at him like that and—you're attractive, Dean. He loves you. He wants to make you smile for him.