WARNING: This chapter is purely a LEMON and not in any way necessary to the plot. If you don't want to read it, move on to Chapter 4. I repeat, this chapter is a LEMON and was written because I bloody felt like it.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Dean or the Supernatural concept. I own Anna and this plotline is mine. Read on.

Anna closed her laptop and made her way to bed. Too tired to even brush her teeth she rinsed vigorously with Listerine as she washed her face lazily. She spit, toweled off and threw her jeans and bra into a corner before turning off the light and slipping between her sheets, 330-thread count, and dropping immediately into slumber. She vaguely noticed her clock read 2:34. Some time later, her eyes flew open, her brain instantly alert and her mouth dry.

Anna inhaled and rolled over to look at her clock, but it was gone. Confused she stood and stretched without pain and made her way to the kitchen to get a drink of water. Without turning on the lights, Anna crossed the linoleum floor and filled a glass at the sink, marveling at the full moon that shone through the windows to bathe the room in blue light. She froze at a shuffling sound behind her and jumped when warm hands encircled her waist. Soft lips and hot breath grazed her neck and the scent of Dean melted her tension.

Dean wrapped one arm around Anna's small waist, pulling her back into his body, and ran his other hand up her torso, between her breasts and up her throat to push her head aside, giving him better access to her throat. He had awakened with a need to go to the kitchen and was greeted by the sight of Anna glowing like a faerie in moonlight, her chocolate curls shining. Her long legs and arms looked dark against the shocking white of her panties and tank top, and Dean had been seized by a preternatural and irresistible desire. The salty sweet taste of her skin made him hunger for more, and her throaty groan pushed his mind beyond reason.

Anna reached over her head to steady herself against Dean, the other arm wrapped back around his hip, but it wasn't enough. She wanted to touch him, to feel his skin beneath her hands, to taste him. She wrenched his hand from her throat and spun in his arms, arching up to him even as she pulled his head to her, claiming his mouth, for the first time initiating the kiss. Dean sighed and slowed the kiss, lazily teasing her mouth, pulling back a little when Anna tried to deepen the kiss, taunting her lips with the tip of his tongue but never accepting her invitation.

Dean wound his fingers in her hair at the nape of her neck to further control their pace. He controlled every moment of the kiss and when Anna growled in frustration, dragging her nails across his back, pressing her hips into his groin, Dean grinned against her mouth and gave in. He plunged his tongue into her mouth, reveling in Anna's gasp, moaning in unison with her as she sucked hungrily on him, caressing him with her own tongue. His hands gripped her by the waist and he pushed her back against the counter, his tongue moving in time with the throbbing between his legs. He felt her fingers curling in his hair, seeking for something to hold on to and he reached around to the back of her thighs, pulling her legs up around his waist and settling her butt on the counter. He settled his erection between her legs and had to pull away to clench his jaw, nearly coming at the heat emanating from her.

"Dean," Anna whispered, her voice desperate, pleading. Without a word, Dean lifted her again and carried her to the table, pushing papers and a basket of flowers to the floor. Setting her down, he quickly removed her shirt and panties and then paused to take in her body.

She was lovelier than he could have imagined, and the moonlight seemed to radiate from beneath her skin. Her body was lean and toned, but still soft with all the right curves. She even had that small bump below her navel that hinted at future children. Her breasts were full and high, the nipples hard and waiting, and her legs were long and trim, joined by a patch of dark curls that called to him. She blushed beneath his gaze but waited patiently, letting him get his fill of her, but Dean knew that would never happen. Slowly he lowered his head to her breast and slowly licked one puckered nipple, then the other.

Anna sucked in a breath and gripped the sides of the table, her back arching up off the table. She was astonished at her reaction to Dean's touch. Even Lawrence, the few times their kisses had progressed into heavy petting, had never elicited this response in her. Her legs opened to him without her being fully aware and the rustling of fabric played at the edge of her hearing. Then he was there, hard and hot, waiting. He lifted his head to capture her mouth in a gentle kiss, giving her a chance to back out, but Anna knew she could no more say no to Dean than she could stop breathing.

"Now," she whispered. "Please Dean."

Dean looked into Anna's eyes and saw his hunger mirrored in her gaze. He reached to guide himself into her and thrust home. Anna cried out as he filled her…

… and hit the floor with a hard thud, her sheets and pillows falling on top of her. Gasping she sat up and reached out with a cry, her arms finding only air. Panting now, she took stock of her surroundings. Darkness. Rug. Bed. End table. Clock. 3:38. Shit. Bedroom.

Anna buried her face in her hands and sobbed in frustration, ignoring the pain in her right arm, then inhaled deeply and laid back on the floor, pushing a pillow under her head. She'd never get to sleep this tense. With a smile, her fingers moved beneath the elastic waistband of her panties.

Across the hall, Dean stepped into a cold shower, breathing hard against the heat rolling off him and letting the freezing water soothe his tension. God, what a dream. He seriously doubted he'd be able to sit at that table for a while, let alone look Anna in the eye in the morning. He leaned his forehead against the tiled wall and sighed in frustration.

Why couldn't that have been real?

The image of her beneath him, the feel of her contracting around his cock, her entire body trembling and wet, hot for him, and her taste… the entire dream replayed unceasingly in his head until even the cold water did nothing for Dean. He was surprised to discover his hand had betrayed him, helping his rock-hard penis to push the dream toward its natural conclusion.

Anna's fingertips flicked expertly and her knees spread wide to accommodate the fingers she used to simulate the feel of Dean in her dream. Still angry at her subconscious for not allowing them to finish, she worked herself toward completion, rubbing the walls of her sticky, moist center, teasing her textures in time to Dean's rhythm as she let every aspect of the dream replay in her head. When she recalled the end of the dream, the feel of Dean when he entered her, Anna responded, climaxing with a groan through clenched teeth.

Dean moaned, grunting her name quietly into the darkness, holding the image of Anna's eyes as he entered her in his mind until his spasms had finished. Breathing hard he fought to stay standing until his breathing returned to normal, then he turned and bathed in earnest, trying to wash the dream away before he had to give a repeat performance.

Anna lay on the floor, heart pounding in her ears, and forced herself to breathe slowly. She sat up a little unsteadily and made her way into the bathroom to bathe. She turned on the shower and let the almost scalding hot water flow through her hair and down her body. Too late, she remembered her stitches and with a curse, she turned off the water to bandage her bleeding arm again.

"Damn it, Dean," she muttered. Her arm would never heal with him in the house. Anna grinned at the thought and pulled out her first aid kit.