Series:Just a Girl - FR15
Series Title :: Just a Girl
Title :: Desire, Inclination, Wish
Author :: Ava
Status :: Series
Rating :: FR15
Summary :: A young hunter meets a cheerleader and has a very good day.
Disclaimer: Supernatural and all related characters are copyright Eric Kripke, Kripke Enterprises & The CW Network. Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all related characters are copyright Joss Whedon and ME. No infringement intended.
Desire, Inclination, Wish
A callused palm rested against Buffy’s side, the rough skin catching on the spandex underneath her cheerleading uniform as it inched higher and the mouth currently fused with her own opened wider. His tongue was warm, so warm, and filling more of her mouth then she was use too, but it was also doing the most interesting thing against the roof of her mouth and Buffy found herself struggling to play catch-up. Her hands flexed, fingers digging into the worn, brown leather of his coat and she shifted against the grass, searching for a more comfortable spot beneath the bleachers.
Dean eased back, teeth catching her bottom lip for a brief moment and the sharp tug pulled at something low in her stomach. Buffy shifted again, suddenly restless, and her hands slipped from his shoulders to cup the back of his neck as she dragged him up that quarter inch so his mouth settled completely over her own. His tongue glided back in, smooth and fast and filling her up with heat and edgy movements that flushed her cheeks and throat with embarrassment and something else entirely.
The something else was what let Dean’s hand continue it’s slow rise up her side when she’d slapped Tyler’s hand away many a time before. His thumb brushed the underside of her breast and Buffy found herself fervently wishing it wasn’t a home game that night. Which would have allowed her to forgo the bodysuit currently acting as a very large and constrictive barrier between herself and Dean’s warm, so warm, hand as it lifted another little bit and cupped her breast.
A sound eased up the back of her throat before making a slow crawl from her mouth into his and Dean’s lips shifted against hers. He was laughing at her, the skin around her eyes tightening as Buffy winced, certain she’d just made the oddest noise known to man and now Dean-hot, warm tongue and handed-Dean was going to ridicule and mock her. He pulled back and Buffy kept her eyes shut, brow pulling together as a flinch worked its way across her features, wrinkling her nose.
The hand cupping her breast lifted and his thumb caught the tip of her nipple and her eyes opened, wide and startled as she looked up at him. The first thought that registered-right after the thought about a guy, a hot guy, was touching her nipple-that Dean wasn’t laughing. He was smirking, a sexy, Kimberly would be so jealous, smirk that filled her with the urge to make that odd rumble, purr noise again.
His gaze stayed steady on hers as he drew lazy circles with his thumb and that tightened her nipple. Drew it into the most painful, wonderful distended tip before his gaze fell to her parted lips and the sound was back. And this time she did not care because Dean caught it with his open mouth and the hot, edgy feeling was back in full force.
The end.
Title :: Define Surprise
Rating :: FR13
Summary :: Some surprises are actually surprising and kind of nice-Christ, Dean was turning into such a chick.
Define Surprise
The metal behind him sagged, supporting and absorbing his weight as he leaned against the chain-link fence that expanded across the sides of Hemery High. A boot lifted, the heel snagging on an open rung as hazel-flecked eyes swept over the basketball court in front of him and the students cutting through it to head toward the parking lot. His head inclined when he caught sight of Sam, his smaller form slipping easily between the student body. The brown mop of hair was all Dean could see of his head since little brother had his face buried in a book-surprise, freaking surprise.
His eyes narrowed when Sam stumbled without warning, book and book-bag falling to the asphalt and Dean’s boot hit the pavement with a slight thud when he saw Tyler, Buffy’s ex-boyfriend, chuckling and sharing a celebratory high five with a no-neck jock. The worn zipper of the bag, that had once been Dean’s, had separated on impact and strewn Sam’s possessions across a high traffic section of the court. Hands closed into fists, knuckles paling as Dean took a step forward, ready and willing to beat the shit out of the idiot when Buffy stepped forward from the crowd.
She ignored Tyler, walking past him to kneel beside Sam and help him gather the spilled contents of his bag. Her head bowed, long blonde hair blocking her face, but whatever she’d said made Sam smile and laugh, the embarrassed tension leaving his younger brother’s face. They stood in unison, their arms linking and Dean raised a brow when he realized they were nearly the same height now that Sam had hit his first of, soon to be many, growth spurts.
They reached him without another jock related incident and Dean watched Buffy slow, let Sam take the lead as they approached and her glossed mouth dipped as she became unsure of herself, her place. Dean reached out, ruffled Sam hair and ignored his annoyed, “hey,” before he took a few steps forward and snagged Buffy’s small hand. Green eyes widened with his sudden display of PDA, something he avoided-until now-and tugged her forward.
Drew Buffy into his shadow and watched her head tilt back, present him with her confused and wary gaze as his dipped closer. Her lashes fluttered closed when he brushed his top lip against hers, a gentle pressure before he dipped down, tugging her bottom lip down with the quick movement. His mouth settled over hers, tongue slipping in to create an easy friction as he waited for her to pull back, embarrassed and blushing.
A dull thud drew his brows together and he felt the oversized purse Buffy used as a book bag fall to rest against his leg and suddenly her hands were in his hair. Her breasts molded to his chest, her tongue quick and nibble in his mouth-girl learned quick. The blunt edge of her nails scraped his scalp as she scrunched her fingers and tightened her hold. A startled sound escaped his throat and he pulled back, breath panting against her open mouth and his eyes opened, pupils dilating as he looked into hers with surprise.
“Come over tonight.”
A pink tongue eased out, slipping across her bottom lip and smeared lip gloss before easing back in. “Dean, you live in a motel.”
His mouth curved into a dangerous half smile and her gaze dipped to watch-she hadn’t said no. He leaned closer, breathed his next words over her mouth, “Come’on. We’ll get pay-per-view and make popcorn.”
She pulled back, a line appearing between her brows. “I don’t know.”
“I can help you with your geometry.”
Sam’s quiet offer finally brought the blush Dean had been expecting to Buffy’s cheeks and she stepped back, a hand coming up to wipe along the bottom edge of her mouth. With quick, sure movements she fixed her smudged makeup and glanced to Sam, her gaze considering as Dean leveled a glare at his little brother over Buffy’s head.
“Should I bring my notes?”
Her question brought Dean out of his moment of annoyance as Sam grinned and nodded, “That’d be great.”
She turned back to Dean. “You have a little,” her lips quirked and her hand rose, thumb tracing the edge of his bottom heavy mouth.
He caught her wrist and gently eased her hand back, wiping the smooth feel of her gloss off his mouth with the edge of his hand. Her brows quirked and Dean waited a beat before offering, “So we’ll see you around eight?”
She winced, nose wrinkling. “More like ten.”
Dean’s brows rose and Sam shifted from foot to foot beside him as Dean simply stated, “Okay.”
“I’ll have to sneak out.” Her head dipped when she noticed Dean’s knowing look and shrugged, “My parent’s are liberal, not stupid. No matter how I spun it, going to a motel to study is bad.” She turned to Sam, eyes pleading, “That’s okay, right?”
Little brother’s head bobbed, the unkempt shag of his hair shifting every which way. “Yeah, it’s not like we have school tomorrow.”
Buffy grinned. “Gotta love Fridays.”
“So ten?” Buffy turned back to Dean and nodded, another blush working hard to fill her cheeks. “See you then.”
A hand lifted and she offered Sam a quick wave goodbye before turning and heading to the other side of the basketball court where her clique waited. Dean’s head dipped to the side, watched the swaying of her hips beneath a short brown skirt and the way the leather of her knee high boots cupped her calves as she walked away. Sam made an annoyed noise and he straightened, shot little brother an amused look before dropping his arm across his shoulders and tugged him to his side.
They started across the basketball courts toward the bus stop that would take them to their motel and his smile worked it’s way into Dean’s voice as he stated, “Sammy, you’re awesome.”
“Don’t call me Sammy.”
The end.
Title :: Stopping Points
Rating :: FR15
Summary :: Why did she listen to Kimberly, like ever?
Stopping Points
Peach-colored nails played with the white threads surrounded by the frayed edge of Dean’s jeans, absently tracing the bit of skin peaking though them. Buffy worked at the small hole at his knee as she steadily ignored the creep-filled movie playing on the motel’s pay-per-view and what, or more precisely who, she was leaning against. Her back was currently molded to a rather tight, and not entirely comfortable, chest and her backside was definitely in contact with-well, Dean-and Buffy still wasn’t entirely sure she should even still be there. Why did she listen to Kimberly, like ever?
A hand cupped her shoulder and slid down it, causing goosebumps to rise and the tension in her to ease down a notch as she relaxed against Dean. A line appeared between her brows since she hadn’t even been aware that she’d been tense. Great. Her hand left Dean’s knee, coming to rest in her lap as she shifted, drawing her knees up and adjusting her dress and the movement put her in direct contact with-Dean.
The hand on her arm stilled and Buffy’s eyes snapped shut as she struggled to remain still and remember to breathe. A moment passed, the muscles of her back growing taunt as she wondered exactly what she was doing, alone, with Dean, with his little brother asleep in the bed across from them. Welcome to Sluts’R’Us and how could she service you today?
“Hey.”
The relaxed cadence of his voice opened Buffy’s eyes and she turned her head, chin tilting up so that she could meet his gaze. Dean’s other hand lifted from where it was propped on the nightstand between the beds to catch the edge of her jaw and lift her face. His shoulders hunched, cupping hers as he bent and his mouth met hers. A quick side to side sweep that managed to both frighten and relax her. Super. More confusion.
Buffy hesitated when she felt Dean’s tongue trace her bottom lip and he pulled back, his mouth sliding across her cheek and the hand holding her jaw eased off. The callused edge of his fingers scraped against the column of her throat, pushing her hair back and away until she felt his breath ease over the shell of her ear. Pink lips parted, her own breath shuddering, body following suit, when his tongue traced the outside of it and his head dipped so that he could catch one of the small hoops with his teeth and tugged.
Green eyes widened before they fluttered close and Buffy leaned into his chest, her hands slipping from her lap to rest on his thighs, nails catching on his jeans as the hand in her hair tightened and the skin of her scalp tingled in response to the slight pain and controlling movement. The muscles of her stomach pulled tight when she felt Dean’s free hand come to settle there, fingers drawing lazy circles and inching her skirt up a little more with each rotation.
Her eyes opened, stared across the room at Sam’s sleeping form and she swallowed, wanting and not wanting to stop Dean before they crossed into Cassandra-territory. Dean’s hand stilled and his mouth eased off her ear, his breath warm against her damp skin as he offered, voice soft and nearly muffled, “Tell me to stop.”
Her brows dipped as her lips rolled inward, creating a thin line as she eased away from him and Dean’s hand slipped from her hair and stomach to fall to his sides. Buffy’s tensed, fisting against his jeans before she twisted herself up and onto her knees between Dean’s spread thighs. His brows raised as she forced him to meet her gaze head-on and she inclined her head, the long length of her hair falling to one side and Dean’s gaze slipped there to watch the spill of it before tracking back to her face.
Her tongue eased out, pink and wet, to slid over her bottom lip nervously and she watched Dean’s pupils dilate with the movement before she swallowed and offered, “And if I don’t want you to stop?”
Those green eyes dragged themselves back to Buffy’s and bored into her for several silent moments as the tightening in her stomach became nearly painful and she was more than positive he could hear the throbbing of her heart beating against her chest. There was something knowing about Dean’s gaze as he leaned forward, his hands coming to rest in his lap as he kept his gaze locked with hers as he eased his way closer, until their faces were only breathe apart.
Buffy swallowed, lashes dipping as Dean’s gaze flicked to her mouth and then back to her before he tilted his head and pressed his mouth to hers. It was soft and sweet and nothing like the kisses they’d shared under the bleachers or in the janitor’s closet at school. There was nothing urgent about the way his mouth pushed against her own and yet she still felt that same restless urge stirring in her stomach and awakening the butterflies to do battle in her chest.
Her hands lifted hesitantly from her lap, settling on the slope of his shoulders as she instigated the first contact and slid her hands down, fingers playing over the surprising bulge of his biceps to slide around his forearms and cup his wrists. She lifted his hands, settled them on the swell of her hips that was just starting to show and eased her tongue into his mouth. Mimicking the friction he caused and darting in and out, not allowing Dean to capture the kiss, control it and his hands tightened, drew her closer.
Their mouths remained locked as Dean lifted her and settled her down on his lap. Her brow furrowed with the different bulge she felt pressed between the cheeks of her ass and her eyes opened, wide and startled since she was not nearly ready to deal with that particular part of his anatomy. Dean pulled back from the kiss she suddenly wasn’t participating enough in and his gaze searched hers again before he smiled, that slow, sure of himself, smile that never failed to dry her throat and dampen other parts of her before his hand rose from her hip to push a lock of hair behind her ear.
His fingers traced her cheek, thumb running along her bottom lip before he inclined his head and stated, “Wanna finish the movie?”
Buffy swallowed, suddenly unsure of herself again. “Um, sure?”
He kissed her again, quick and nearly bruising, before he eased her off his lap and settled her beside him on the bed. His arm draped around her shoulders, urging her to curl against him as he directed his attention back to the movie and Buffy reached out, settling a hesitant hand on his knee and began to play with the frayed edge of his jeans again as she ignored the movie.
The end.
Title :: Desire, Inclination, Wish
Author :: Ava
Status :: Series
Rating :: FR15
Summary :: A young hunter meets a cheerleader and has a very good day.
Disclaimer: Supernatural and all related characters are copyright Eric Kripke, Kripke Enterprises & The CW Network. Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all related characters are copyright Joss Whedon and ME. No infringement intended.
Desire, Inclination, Wish
A callused palm rested against Buffy’s side, the rough skin catching on the spandex underneath her cheerleading uniform as it inched higher and the mouth currently fused with her own opened wider. His tongue was warm, so warm, and filling more of her mouth then she was use too, but it was also doing the most interesting thing against the roof of her mouth and Buffy found herself struggling to play catch-up. Her hands flexed, fingers digging into the worn, brown leather of his coat and she shifted against the grass, searching for a more comfortable spot beneath the bleachers.
Dean eased back, teeth catching her bottom lip for a brief moment and the sharp tug pulled at something low in her stomach. Buffy shifted again, suddenly restless, and her hands slipped from his shoulders to cup the back of his neck as she dragged him up that quarter inch so his mouth settled completely over her own. His tongue glided back in, smooth and fast and filling her up with heat and edgy movements that flushed her cheeks and throat with embarrassment and something else entirely.
The something else was what let Dean’s hand continue it’s slow rise up her side when she’d slapped Tyler’s hand away many a time before. His thumb brushed the underside of her breast and Buffy found herself fervently wishing it wasn’t a home game that night. Which would have allowed her to forgo the bodysuit currently acting as a very large and constrictive barrier between herself and Dean’s warm, so warm, hand as it lifted another little bit and cupped her breast.
A sound eased up the back of her throat before making a slow crawl from her mouth into his and Dean’s lips shifted against hers. He was laughing at her, the skin around her eyes tightening as Buffy winced, certain she’d just made the oddest noise known to man and now Dean-hot, warm tongue and handed-Dean was going to ridicule and mock her. He pulled back and Buffy kept her eyes shut, brow pulling together as a flinch worked its way across her features, wrinkling her nose.
The hand cupping her breast lifted and his thumb caught the tip of her nipple and her eyes opened, wide and startled as she looked up at him. The first thought that registered-right after the thought about a guy, a hot guy, was touching her nipple-that Dean wasn’t laughing. He was smirking, a sexy, Kimberly would be so jealous, smirk that filled her with the urge to make that odd rumble, purr noise again.
His gaze stayed steady on hers as he drew lazy circles with his thumb and that tightened her nipple. Drew it into the most painful, wonderful distended tip before his gaze fell to her parted lips and the sound was back. And this time she did not care because Dean caught it with his open mouth and the hot, edgy feeling was back in full force.
The end.
Title :: Define Surprise
Rating :: FR13
Summary :: Some surprises are actually surprising and kind of nice-Christ, Dean was turning into such a chick.
Define Surprise
The metal behind him sagged, supporting and absorbing his weight as he leaned against the chain-link fence that expanded across the sides of Hemery High. A boot lifted, the heel snagging on an open rung as hazel-flecked eyes swept over the basketball court in front of him and the students cutting through it to head toward the parking lot. His head inclined when he caught sight of Sam, his smaller form slipping easily between the student body. The brown mop of hair was all Dean could see of his head since little brother had his face buried in a book-surprise, freaking surprise.
His eyes narrowed when Sam stumbled without warning, book and book-bag falling to the asphalt and Dean’s boot hit the pavement with a slight thud when he saw Tyler, Buffy’s ex-boyfriend, chuckling and sharing a celebratory high five with a no-neck jock. The worn zipper of the bag, that had once been Dean’s, had separated on impact and strewn Sam’s possessions across a high traffic section of the court. Hands closed into fists, knuckles paling as Dean took a step forward, ready and willing to beat the shit out of the idiot when Buffy stepped forward from the crowd.
She ignored Tyler, walking past him to kneel beside Sam and help him gather the spilled contents of his bag. Her head bowed, long blonde hair blocking her face, but whatever she’d said made Sam smile and laugh, the embarrassed tension leaving his younger brother’s face. They stood in unison, their arms linking and Dean raised a brow when he realized they were nearly the same height now that Sam had hit his first of, soon to be many, growth spurts.
They reached him without another jock related incident and Dean watched Buffy slow, let Sam take the lead as they approached and her glossed mouth dipped as she became unsure of herself, her place. Dean reached out, ruffled Sam hair and ignored his annoyed, “hey,” before he took a few steps forward and snagged Buffy’s small hand. Green eyes widened with his sudden display of PDA, something he avoided-until now-and tugged her forward.
Drew Buffy into his shadow and watched her head tilt back, present him with her confused and wary gaze as his dipped closer. Her lashes fluttered closed when he brushed his top lip against hers, a gentle pressure before he dipped down, tugging her bottom lip down with the quick movement. His mouth settled over hers, tongue slipping in to create an easy friction as he waited for her to pull back, embarrassed and blushing.
A dull thud drew his brows together and he felt the oversized purse Buffy used as a book bag fall to rest against his leg and suddenly her hands were in his hair. Her breasts molded to his chest, her tongue quick and nibble in his mouth-girl learned quick. The blunt edge of her nails scraped his scalp as she scrunched her fingers and tightened her hold. A startled sound escaped his throat and he pulled back, breath panting against her open mouth and his eyes opened, pupils dilating as he looked into hers with surprise.
“Come over tonight.”
A pink tongue eased out, slipping across her bottom lip and smeared lip gloss before easing back in. “Dean, you live in a motel.”
His mouth curved into a dangerous half smile and her gaze dipped to watch-she hadn’t said no. He leaned closer, breathed his next words over her mouth, “Come’on. We’ll get pay-per-view and make popcorn.”
She pulled back, a line appearing between her brows. “I don’t know.”
“I can help you with your geometry.”
Sam’s quiet offer finally brought the blush Dean had been expecting to Buffy’s cheeks and she stepped back, a hand coming up to wipe along the bottom edge of her mouth. With quick, sure movements she fixed her smudged makeup and glanced to Sam, her gaze considering as Dean leveled a glare at his little brother over Buffy’s head.
“Should I bring my notes?”
Her question brought Dean out of his moment of annoyance as Sam grinned and nodded, “That’d be great.”
She turned back to Dean. “You have a little,” her lips quirked and her hand rose, thumb tracing the edge of his bottom heavy mouth.
He caught her wrist and gently eased her hand back, wiping the smooth feel of her gloss off his mouth with the edge of his hand. Her brows quirked and Dean waited a beat before offering, “So we’ll see you around eight?”
She winced, nose wrinkling. “More like ten.”
Dean’s brows rose and Sam shifted from foot to foot beside him as Dean simply stated, “Okay.”
“I’ll have to sneak out.” Her head dipped when she noticed Dean’s knowing look and shrugged, “My parent’s are liberal, not stupid. No matter how I spun it, going to a motel to study is bad.” She turned to Sam, eyes pleading, “That’s okay, right?”
Little brother’s head bobbed, the unkempt shag of his hair shifting every which way. “Yeah, it’s not like we have school tomorrow.”
Buffy grinned. “Gotta love Fridays.”
“So ten?” Buffy turned back to Dean and nodded, another blush working hard to fill her cheeks. “See you then.”
A hand lifted and she offered Sam a quick wave goodbye before turning and heading to the other side of the basketball court where her clique waited. Dean’s head dipped to the side, watched the swaying of her hips beneath a short brown skirt and the way the leather of her knee high boots cupped her calves as she walked away. Sam made an annoyed noise and he straightened, shot little brother an amused look before dropping his arm across his shoulders and tugged him to his side.
They started across the basketball courts toward the bus stop that would take them to their motel and his smile worked it’s way into Dean’s voice as he stated, “Sammy, you’re awesome.”
“Don’t call me Sammy.”
The end.
Title :: Stopping Points
Rating :: FR15
Summary :: Why did she listen to Kimberly, like ever?
Stopping Points
Peach-colored nails played with the white threads surrounded by the frayed edge of Dean’s jeans, absently tracing the bit of skin peaking though them. Buffy worked at the small hole at his knee as she steadily ignored the creep-filled movie playing on the motel’s pay-per-view and what, or more precisely who, she was leaning against. Her back was currently molded to a rather tight, and not entirely comfortable, chest and her backside was definitely in contact with-well, Dean-and Buffy still wasn’t entirely sure she should even still be there. Why did she listen to Kimberly, like ever?
A hand cupped her shoulder and slid down it, causing goosebumps to rise and the tension in her to ease down a notch as she relaxed against Dean. A line appeared between her brows since she hadn’t even been aware that she’d been tense. Great. Her hand left Dean’s knee, coming to rest in her lap as she shifted, drawing her knees up and adjusting her dress and the movement put her in direct contact with-Dean.
The hand on her arm stilled and Buffy’s eyes snapped shut as she struggled to remain still and remember to breathe. A moment passed, the muscles of her back growing taunt as she wondered exactly what she was doing, alone, with Dean, with his little brother asleep in the bed across from them. Welcome to Sluts’R’Us and how could she service you today?
“Hey.”
The relaxed cadence of his voice opened Buffy’s eyes and she turned her head, chin tilting up so that she could meet his gaze. Dean’s other hand lifted from where it was propped on the nightstand between the beds to catch the edge of her jaw and lift her face. His shoulders hunched, cupping hers as he bent and his mouth met hers. A quick side to side sweep that managed to both frighten and relax her. Super. More confusion.
Buffy hesitated when she felt Dean’s tongue trace her bottom lip and he pulled back, his mouth sliding across her cheek and the hand holding her jaw eased off. The callused edge of his fingers scraped against the column of her throat, pushing her hair back and away until she felt his breath ease over the shell of her ear. Pink lips parted, her own breath shuddering, body following suit, when his tongue traced the outside of it and his head dipped so that he could catch one of the small hoops with his teeth and tugged.
Green eyes widened before they fluttered close and Buffy leaned into his chest, her hands slipping from her lap to rest on his thighs, nails catching on his jeans as the hand in her hair tightened and the skin of her scalp tingled in response to the slight pain and controlling movement. The muscles of her stomach pulled tight when she felt Dean’s free hand come to settle there, fingers drawing lazy circles and inching her skirt up a little more with each rotation.
Her eyes opened, stared across the room at Sam’s sleeping form and she swallowed, wanting and not wanting to stop Dean before they crossed into Cassandra-territory. Dean’s hand stilled and his mouth eased off her ear, his breath warm against her damp skin as he offered, voice soft and nearly muffled, “Tell me to stop.”
Her brows dipped as her lips rolled inward, creating a thin line as she eased away from him and Dean’s hand slipped from her hair and stomach to fall to his sides. Buffy’s tensed, fisting against his jeans before she twisted herself up and onto her knees between Dean’s spread thighs. His brows raised as she forced him to meet her gaze head-on and she inclined her head, the long length of her hair falling to one side and Dean’s gaze slipped there to watch the spill of it before tracking back to her face.
Her tongue eased out, pink and wet, to slid over her bottom lip nervously and she watched Dean’s pupils dilate with the movement before she swallowed and offered, “And if I don’t want you to stop?”
Those green eyes dragged themselves back to Buffy’s and bored into her for several silent moments as the tightening in her stomach became nearly painful and she was more than positive he could hear the throbbing of her heart beating against her chest. There was something knowing about Dean’s gaze as he leaned forward, his hands coming to rest in his lap as he kept his gaze locked with hers as he eased his way closer, until their faces were only breathe apart.
Buffy swallowed, lashes dipping as Dean’s gaze flicked to her mouth and then back to her before he tilted his head and pressed his mouth to hers. It was soft and sweet and nothing like the kisses they’d shared under the bleachers or in the janitor’s closet at school. There was nothing urgent about the way his mouth pushed against her own and yet she still felt that same restless urge stirring in her stomach and awakening the butterflies to do battle in her chest.
Her hands lifted hesitantly from her lap, settling on the slope of his shoulders as she instigated the first contact and slid her hands down, fingers playing over the surprising bulge of his biceps to slide around his forearms and cup his wrists. She lifted his hands, settled them on the swell of her hips that was just starting to show and eased her tongue into his mouth. Mimicking the friction he caused and darting in and out, not allowing Dean to capture the kiss, control it and his hands tightened, drew her closer.
Their mouths remained locked as Dean lifted her and settled her down on his lap. Her brow furrowed with the different bulge she felt pressed between the cheeks of her ass and her eyes opened, wide and startled since she was not nearly ready to deal with that particular part of his anatomy. Dean pulled back from the kiss she suddenly wasn’t participating enough in and his gaze searched hers again before he smiled, that slow, sure of himself, smile that never failed to dry her throat and dampen other parts of her before his hand rose from her hip to push a lock of hair behind her ear.
His fingers traced her cheek, thumb running along her bottom lip before he inclined his head and stated, “Wanna finish the movie?”
Buffy swallowed, suddenly unsure of herself again. “Um, sure?”
He kissed her again, quick and nearly bruising, before he eased her off his lap and settled her beside him on the bed. His arm draped around her shoulders, urging her to curl against him as he directed his attention back to the movie and Buffy reached out, settling a hesitant hand on his knee and began to play with the frayed edge of his jeans again as she ignored the movie.
The end.