chosenfreedom | Bruce Wayne didn't build his lair overnight either.

Dean was still in the luxurious room. It was neater this time. Relatively. Less food particles and drink scattered around, and more blueprints and dimensions on scrawled paper. His shirt was tucked in, and he was wearing a belt around his jeans as he walked around pacing.

He was currently on the phone, speaking with someone on the other line, "Yeah? Listen I got some plans here that I need some guys to get started on pronto. Yeah. I'll have the plans faxed over to you, but this has got to be made top priority. Also what've you got lying around the armory? Uh-huh. What about ammo? All right. Listen, bring some of that up here, plus 50 pounds of rock salt. Yeah you heard me. Rock salt. Like the crap you put down in the winter."

More pacing as he ran a hand through his hair. "Look, I told you what I need, what's the problem? Or should I tell your boss about what a hard time you're giving me? Yeah I didn't think so either. All right, thanks." He cut the connection, and set the phone down with a sigh.

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Dean obeyed of course, now subject to her whims and wants. Lust coursing throughout him, though tempered with other emotions as he sank into her. Contentment, trust, caring. Not love but he was approaching it in his feelings, his actions as he moved against her with a groan. He leaned his head down to pepper her skin with more kisses, and his hand came down between them to draw more gasps of pleasure from her.

Lust was her kind's bread and butter and the demonic Hunger sipped at it like fine wine. Devotion and care it accepted as means of control, but love, love was dangerous. Love was anathema, and the perfectly circular scar on the palm of Lara's left hand was a constant reminder of that fact. But for all its patience and kindness, true love had to be reciprocated to burn.

And Lara Raith was nothing if not self-seeking and one who delighted in lies.

So she toyed with Dean even as her breath quickened at his touch, accepting the care and trust he offered and reciprocating with little more than calculating amusement and the empty lies of the succubus Hunger. She moved with him, all warm skin and eager receptive flesh, and her hands clutched at Dean's shoulder and back as pleasure washed over her like a wave.

Just for effect, she even cried out his name.

Her hands came up near the burned handprint, and a jolt ran through him like he was shocked. But he forgot it a moment later, too much hers now in mind and body. A warning, a remembrance from the angel who saved him, it mattered little now. Nothing else matters, just like the Metallica song.

Only her. Only her.

He came a moment later, shouting her name in reciprocation, and shuddering. He slowly pulled out, and stayed close, panting. Damn, that wore him out more than he would have thought. He had to get back in a routine again if he was going to hunt. Keep in good shape, since he had let himself go over the past six months or so.

Lara's own breathing was languid, relaxed, and her hand slid along Dean's neck and into his short cropped hair, an idle affectionate gesture. Her voice was pleased and gilded with laughter. "I'd offer you another drink, love, but I think it might go to your head."

Dean's head gently lolled toward her hand as he grinned back.

"Eh maybe, usually can hold my liquor." He should probably go sit down, but he didn't want to move away from her. His body slightly listed a little, but he stubbornly remained upright.

"Takes more than that to wipe me out."

That self-assured bravado only served to reinforce the idea of Dean as some overeager pup, even as he insisted on remaining on his feet as he swayed. A mote of silver glittered in her eyes at his words, as if the demonic Hunger would like nothing more than to take up that challenge.

But there would be time for that. For now there were more useful things to set the pup on. "As tempting as that is, I think you'd rather be awake tomorrow to tour the set."

Dean blinked briefly as he listed again, and finally sighed.

"Yeah I could use a few hours of shut eye. And hell yeah, can't wait," he smiled at her again.

He then stepped back to go straighten up the paperwork. At least he hadn't been getting nightmares when he sleeps, or really much of dreams. Just a few here and there, mostly about Lara. A few about...before. With Sam and the Impala, and open road. But the ache he'd been feeling about missing it was almost non-existent. He was just content as he slowly walked to his bed.

Lara smiled back indulgently, arsenic grey eyes watching, and didn't slide off the counter until Dean had made it to the bed. "Then I won't stay and keep you up," she purred, picking up her coat and heading for the door.

"Sweet dreams, pet."

"Night, Lara," He mumbled and yawned as he flopped into bed. He didn't bother with the blankets, just sleeping on top of the covers. He settled with a hand by his pillow where he still slept with a knife hidden underneath. Force of habit for the hunter that not even being here could break him of.

Bruce Wayne didn't build his lair overnight either.

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