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The cold air had already started to numb Dean's fingers when his gaze became drawn to the house ahead of him. It in itself is not remarkable, in fact he can barely grasp what it looks like, fails to note anything about it other than the window facing towards the street. It glows with a warmth that is absent from the rest of the street.
He peers through it, wiping away fog with the sleeve of his shirt. It's a bedroom, one cluttered with life. Clothes pile into mountains in front of the mirrored closet. He can see the shifting, vague figure of himself reflected in it. Soft light from a nearby lamp warms the body in the bed. Under the blankets a leg sticks out, stretched carelessly over the edge of the frame. On the other end waves of brunette hair roll off of shoulders and obscure her face. Messy, like she hadn't gotten up for the day yet. He glides his eyes over the form, overcome with desire to touch. To press hands into the soft skin of her calf and follow it to the dip of her knee, up her thigh, her ass, her back. Up, and up, and up, until she finally turns to look at him. He recognizes the face peering up at him as his own. She watches him in mild bemusement, like she knows, had been in his place before.
Her skin warms the palms of his hands from where they glide over her figure. He feels like he should apologize for being so cold. It's a wonder she didn't flinch when he first pressed his hand down. Fingers trace out gentle curves, in and out like waves lapping on a shore. It causes his stomach to clench, he wants to curl his lips up, to trade in envy for disgust. Disgust can be emptied, drained leaving only the taste of bile in his mouth. He pushes her hips down, he questions how far she'd let him go, how close she'd let him get.
He's overcome with a suffocating sense of loss; that no matter how hard he presses his hands against her, it'll only sink her further into the mattress. He crumples under it, heaves against her bare chest. Hands, her hands, rest on his head with an assuredness that is unknown to him. Wordlessly he understands she has nothing to offer, that all she wanted was for him to look at her.