A/N: So, this one took a little longer than I anticipated, at least in part because I wasn't sure which POV to use. I'm going to abandon first person at least for now because the part I had sketched out wasn't written that way. If y'all want me to go back to first person, tell me in reviews? Otherwise, on with the story!

For stephaniew, who I know has been missing Kait...and Natali, an anonymous reviewer who Steph and I both wish we could thank properly.

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural.

Insatiable

Kait half dances across the parking lot. Her body tingles with the anticipation of Dean's touch. She crooks her finger, beckoning him closer as she leans against the door to her motel room. This is exactly what she wants, isn't it? Dean to follow her to bed?

She pulls the key from her pocket, dangling it temptingly in front of him as her lashes fall to her cheeks. She can feel him closing in. Feel the warmth of his breath fanning against the skin of her face and neck.

Dean leans a hand against the door, the other snaking just under the cotton of her collar to brush against her throat. He angles her mouth, swaying into her without allowing their bodies to touch. His lips feather oh-so-close to touching hers, still he waits.

"Kait," he breathes in the barest of whispers. He wants to see it in her features. More than willing to tease and play, he wants to know for sure.

Her eyes rocket open. Wide and hazel, they connect with his. She bites her lip.

"You gonna invite me in?" he asks, his mouth trailing wildfire down the column of her neck to meet a chain hidden by her clothing. He still doesn't kiss her, his lips hover a breath away from her skin. His free hand slips inside her jacket and slides down her torso to the curve of her waist, his thumb brushing the underside of her breast over the fabric of her shirt. "Or is this good night?"

Kait shivers as desire courses through her veins. For a moment, she questions herself. Once she lets him in, there would be no going back. They're consenting adults, why shouldn't they use each other?

Turning, she slips the key into the lock. She arches against him, her head falling onto his shoulder as she works the door knob. Feels his hand pressing against her abdomen, pulling tight her against him. Moans at the way his teeth scrape against her earlobe.

Facing him again, she brushes her auburn hair out of her face. She steps into him, their bodies flush from knee to chest. Like two pieces of a puzzle, they fit.

She wraps one of his arms around her back and guides his hand to the door knob. "You coming in, Dean? Or am I sleeping alone tonight?"

His mouth descends on hers. She's hot. He feels the sting of whiskey on her lips, tastes it as her tongue melds against his. They fumble into the darkened room, bumping into furniture and stumbling as they tear at each other's clothing. He hears something crunching beneath their boots. Something familiar. Rock salt?

Her shirt is the first victim of their lust, several of the buttons popping loose and becoming lost in the awful shag carpeting. He slides it and her jacket off in a single motion.

Oddly, it's not the rise and fall of her breasts that get his attention. It's the silver amulet resting against her chest. It glows in the moonlight and makes his breath catch. She's a hunter.

Undistracted, Kait's hands push at the leather of Dean's car coat. It slaps to the floor as her fingers glide along his neck and shoulders before curling into the cotton of his t-shirt. A groan paired with a whimper escape when they're forced apart to remove it.

She suckles at his lower lip and he drags her close. The heat of his skin is different than the burn of the whiskey she's tried to drown in. Bourbon may have dulled the pain, but it left her cold and empty. His calloused hands brand her. Warm her. Remind her she's still alive.

The lace of her bra tickles his chest, but it's her fingers and their barely-there caress of his shoulders that cause him to shudder. She rains kisses over his chest, laughing softly as they fall against the bed.

Her laughter is musical. The woman laying over is different. She's not like his other conquests. It makes him pull her tighter and claim her mouth again. Skilled hands quickly unhook her bra and he rolls her beneath him.

His eyes devour her, his mouth watering at the sight of her breasts as he tugs the lacy scrap that covers them away. His fingers trace over a tiny mole on her rib cage and a few silvery scars. She gorgeous. The battle-worn body of a hunter - a fellow warrior - is sexier than the perfect skin of college coeds or bar bunnies. It's a new experience.

Kait tries to calm her breathing and her racing heart. He's stunning...and not at all what she expected. She knew he'd be attentive - he couldn't have the reputation he had and not be.

But the tenderness? The way he looks at her like she's the only one? Like she's some kind of present or treasure?

It's too much. She wants hot, wild, monkey sex. Not a slow, passionate fuck. She has to keep the feelings out of it. Has to challenge him and push his buttons. She doesn't do messy. Doesn't want to fall in love.

She has to take control. To show him what she wants. To let him know he can take her. That they can take each other. She isn't some cocktail waitress or wallflower. She's an equal.

So, she puts Dean on his back. Pressing his wrists into the mattress above him and straddling his waist, she squirms against him. Her lips trailing up his neck to his ear, she murmurs tormentingly, "If I'd wanted slow, Dean, I'd have waited for Mitch to get off his shift."

He growls and overpowers her. An arm around her waist, he drags her up until her hair fans across the pillows. It's his turn to pin her arms to the bed and he tortures her with his mouth. He sucks the taut peak of her right nipple into his mouth, nipping at it lightly before blowing cool air against it. He repeats the process with her left.

She squirms, thrashing in his grip. He'll take all the damn time he wants. Savor every detail and make her wild with lust. Covering her body with his - using his weight to still her - he finds her ear. Whispering, he asks her, "Mitch who?"

Kait shakes her head. "What?"

A slow smile spreads across his face. "Mitch who," he mutters, his lips skimming over hers as his hands glide over her torso. Leaving her breathless and panting, he pushes up and moves to her feet. "That's what you'll be asking when I'm done with you."

He toes out of his boots before reaching for hers. The slow snick of the zipper is mesmerizing. It builds the anticipation to a fevered pitch. He dumps one and then the other over his shoulder onto the floor.

Next to follow are her jeans. He works the clingy denim down her hips and thighs, pausing at her knees to marvel at the way her lower lip is caught between her teeth. She's figured him out. The more she demands, the more he'll make her wait. The more he'll tease her with his hands and his mouth.

Dean's fingers glide up her calves. He peppers a slow string of kisses over the muscles between her ankles and knees, pressing her thighs apart. His mouth drifts close to her core only to skip over it and the scrap of material covering her. His tongue dips into her belly button and he travels back up to her lips.

Kait whimpers beneath his kiss and guides his hands to her hips. She swallows, feeling herself melt and grow even warmer under his gaze.

"Take me," she urges, arching into him. Tongues tangle hotly and she feels his fingers tracing over her. She purrs when he strokes them into her.

The sound she makes rivals his favorite noise on earth - the hum of the Impala's engine. Like the car, she embodies sex. Everything about her is hot. It turns him on. Makes him want. And, the next thing she says makes him know that settling between her thighs is going to be like taking a long drive.

"Enough foreplay," she growls, her hands releasing the fastenings on his jeans and hurrying to wrap around him. "Take me."

This time he wants her too badly to fight. Too much to prolong the tension. But he's not ready for her to know it just yet. Not ready for her to know she's won.

He strips off his remaining clothes and reaches for her panties, smiling when she eagerly lifts her hips off of the bed to help him. Moving up the bed, he stops to taste her. He feels her fight it, feels the war of her body as she tries to determine her next move.

"Dean," she whimpers.

He reaches for the condom he pulled from his pocket and slide up to cover her mouth with his own as he smoothes on the protection. He pumps her with his fingers to be sure she's ready for him, tickling her and teasing her just a little more.

Kait gasps when he slides into her. Planting her hand against the headboard desperate for leverage, she pushes against him. Her eyes slam shut and she buries her face in his shoulder, clinging to him.

Moaning as he fills her, her tight heat enveloping him, he pulls her leg around his waist. His fingers dig into the muscles of her thigh as he thrusts into her.

Like eagles colliding in flight and careening toward the earth as they fight for dominance, it's an elegant battle. Both equally hunter and prey, they fight for control, soaring toward ecstasy together.

Panting for air, Dean rolls Kait over him. His hands map the curves of her body as he drives her toward another peak, pushing her further and higher with every stroke. Her fair skin is bathed in the glow of the moonlight and street lamps streaming through the filmy curtains at the window.

Feeling his body tense, Kait takes control. She undulates in his lap, her breasts swaying into his hands as he reaches for her. She urges him up, the new sensation and added stimulation causing new ripples of pleasure to flood through her body. She feels it in her limbs. Her fingers. Her toes. Everywhere.

Dean pulls her down tight. He encourages her to ride him harder and faster. He moans as her teeth scrape gently at his collarbone. Cries out as her lips find his pulse point.

They fall apart, each sprawling on their backs on top of the covers. They breathe heavily, trying to find their way back to center.

One falls into the peaceful slumber of a well spent lover. Gentle snores fill the air as everything fades to a complete and harmonious black.

The other's mind races, burning with questions. Hungry for answers. Feelings, unwanted but not unpleasant, surface. They bring wonder and hope. A desire for something never considered emerges. Watching the other hunter sleeping, an idea forms.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Supernatural ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Dean blinks, his eyes trying to adjust to the dim light of the room. He watches Kait shimmy into her panties and blue jeans before tossing his clothes at him. Was she throwing him out? He feels so...used. Not that he hasn't done the same thing countless times.

"Get dressed," she says quickly. Reaching into her duffel, she pulls out a long sleeved t-shirt and hurries into it. Grinning, she adds, "I got a line on a ghoul three towns east of here. You up for it, Winchester?"