Fic:When Resolve Fails
Title :: When Resolve Fails
Author :: Ava
Status :: One-Shot
Rating :: FR21
Summary :: Someone heaven touched, touching someone so damn broken didn’t fit in his skewed view of the world.
Disclaimer :: Supernatural and all related characters are copyright Eric Kripke, Kripke Enterprises & The CW Network. No infringement intended. Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all related characters are copyright Joss Whedon and ME. No infringement intended.
Prompt :: Nina’s ‘sometimes the high road sucks and the lyrics to Puscifer’s ‘Momma Sed.’
When Resolve Fails
He hesitated; hand on the doorknob and spine stiffening before his head turned, hazel-flecked eyes drawn back to the bed he’d just vacated and the still form beneath rumbled sheets. Sheets that had pooled around a narrow waist exposing far too much of the occupant’s sleep-warmed skin as Dean made a pained sound and dropped his boots to the carpeted floor as he closed the distance between him and the bed.
A hand reached over his shoulder, catching the back of his shirt and dragging it over his head before he pressed one jean-clad knee into the mattress. Lashes fluttered and Buffy rolled onto her back, one hand sliding from the bed to rest against her stomach as she turned her head away from him and towards the early morning light spilling through cheap drapes.
He hesitated; one knee on the bed and one foot on the floor as he stared at her face and the softness that sleep brought to it. His gaze traveled over the curve of her cheek and the sharpness of her chin, down the graceful line of her throat and past the angle of her collarbone to linger on the pertness of her breasts. They were small, smaller then he usually liked, but still more then adequate and the air condition chill of the room had tightened her nipples-not as well as he had, but still well enough to make him his hands itch with the urge to cup them, smooth the goosebumps prickling her skin.
His jaw tightened, mouth falling into a thin line as he braced his hand against the mattress before finishing his climb up and reached out, fingers absently brushing a curl of her honey colored hair away from her throat. Watched it fall to settle against the flattened pillow beneath her head and she sighed, lips parting as she rolled her shoulders and shifted her body towards the subtle warmth of his own. Dean leaned forward, arms steadying his weight as he studied her slack features and wondered what in the hell someone like her had seen in someone like him.
He hesitated; someone heaven touched, touching someone so damn broken didn’t fit in his skewed view of the world and the muscles in his arms tightened and Dean began to ease back. Dark lashes fluttered, her head turning towards him as green eyes opened and Dean stiffened, body going taunt as she stared up at him. Her throat tightened as she swallowed and her arm slipped away from her stomach to push her elbow into the mattress and raise her upper body.
Dean watched her rise, watched her come and couldn’t bring himself to meet her halfway. He watched her and felt a burning in his throat that had nothing to do with the Jim Bean he’d consumed the night before, a night in which he’d left the purplish hued bruises on her throat and she’d left teeth marks on his shoulder. Her gaze flitted across his face and down his bare chest to the jean-covered bulge at his crotch and a blush worked its way into her cheeks and down her throat before she pressed herself higher and closer to him.
She hesitated; the barest breath away from his face and her tongue eased out, wetting chapped lips as she studied his face before her gaze dipped to his mouth. She thrust her jaw forward and caught that mouth with her own, kept her hands fisted in the sheets of the bed and Dean’s eyes closed as he kissed her back. Pushing his mouth more forcefully against hers and she returned the bruising embrace, her teeth sinking into his bottom lip and tugging, leading him back down to the bed with that sharp movement.
A strangled sound eased its way out of the back of his throat and she swallowed it, kicking the sheets away from her body as her hands left the bed to unsnap his jeans and push them down his hips to free his cock. Dean pulled back, easing off the bed only long enough to step out of the pool of denim and then crawled back up. The sheets were gone, leaving Buffy covered only in the light of the sun and looking every bit the creature that had fallen from grace. He caught an ankle and tugged her forward, dragged her across the bed and the corners of her mouth turned upwards.
He hesitated; staring down at her smiling face as she spread her thighs and quirked a brow in silent invitation. His jaw tightened even as Dean lowered himself towards her and told himself that Zachariah’s future was wrong. He scraped a stubble-covered chin across her stomach, watched it quiver before his mouth found her skin and he whispered against it that he wouldn’t be the death of her.
She gasped, her legs spreading wider and Dean drew back from his promise and her skin and grasped the back of her knees, pulling to her the edge of the bed and knelt. Pressing his mouth against her damp sex and made her quiver and shake with just the barest brush of teeth and tongue. Fingers joined the dance of his mouth and her thighs trembled on either side of him as he found comfort in her skin before dropping his hand away and flattening his tongue against her sex. One sure, slow lick that brought his name past her lips in a breathy whine.
He didn’t hesitate; he rose and pushed her legs further apart and stepped between them. Green eyes blinked at him a moment, the confusion melting slowly until he began to work his way inside of her. His cock guided by his hand and her hands reached down, spread her sex wider and Dean grunted when his pelvis met with hers and she lifted her hips, rolling them forward and back and the movement withered her body, the trembling of her thighs spreading to her stomach as her breathing hitched. He met her tempo and increased it, his thighs meeting hers with the satisfying crack of skin meeting skin as he dragged more sounds from her, pulled her closer to that edge that blurred most lines of pleasure and pain, wrong and right, the line they shared so perfectly together.
A warmth spread from the base of his spine into his stomach and his balls tightened and Dean swore, muttering under his breath as he tried to slow the tempo and her inner walls clench. A grunt escaped him and he caught her hips, thrusts deepening as he lost control and spilled himself inside of her. He leaned over her, elbows buried in the mattress as his hips continued their shallow thrusts and Buffy caught his shoulders, dragged him down so that his chest was pressed tight to hers.
She traced idle patterns on his sweat-slicked back as he inhaled the bitter scent of her skin and bit gently at her shoulder. He concentrated on her and the warmth of her touch, ignoring the nagging voice snarling in his head that he’d just signed her death warrant. A content ‘hmmm’ vibrated up from Buffy and into Dean, curving his mouth against her skin as she shifted slightly and whispered, voice nearly hesitant, “You know I hate to break up the rare chick-flick moments you share with me, but I hafta pee.”
Dean snorted and eased his cock from between her wet folds before rolling off of Buffy and onto his back. His mouth curved into a slow smile as he watched her scramble off the bed and towards the bathroom still nude, still graceful and still bathed in sunlight.
The end.
Author :: Ava
Status :: One-Shot
Rating :: FR21
Summary :: Someone heaven touched, touching someone so damn broken didn’t fit in his skewed view of the world.
Disclaimer :: Supernatural and all related characters are copyright Eric Kripke, Kripke Enterprises & The CW Network. No infringement intended. Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all related characters are copyright Joss Whedon and ME. No infringement intended.
Prompt :: Nina’s ‘sometimes the high road sucks and the lyrics to Puscifer’s ‘Momma Sed.’
When Resolve Fails
He hesitated; hand on the doorknob and spine stiffening before his head turned, hazel-flecked eyes drawn back to the bed he’d just vacated and the still form beneath rumbled sheets. Sheets that had pooled around a narrow waist exposing far too much of the occupant’s sleep-warmed skin as Dean made a pained sound and dropped his boots to the carpeted floor as he closed the distance between him and the bed.
A hand reached over his shoulder, catching the back of his shirt and dragging it over his head before he pressed one jean-clad knee into the mattress. Lashes fluttered and Buffy rolled onto her back, one hand sliding from the bed to rest against her stomach as she turned her head away from him and towards the early morning light spilling through cheap drapes.
He hesitated; one knee on the bed and one foot on the floor as he stared at her face and the softness that sleep brought to it. His gaze traveled over the curve of her cheek and the sharpness of her chin, down the graceful line of her throat and past the angle of her collarbone to linger on the pertness of her breasts. They were small, smaller then he usually liked, but still more then adequate and the air condition chill of the room had tightened her nipples-not as well as he had, but still well enough to make him his hands itch with the urge to cup them, smooth the goosebumps prickling her skin.
His jaw tightened, mouth falling into a thin line as he braced his hand against the mattress before finishing his climb up and reached out, fingers absently brushing a curl of her honey colored hair away from her throat. Watched it fall to settle against the flattened pillow beneath her head and she sighed, lips parting as she rolled her shoulders and shifted her body towards the subtle warmth of his own. Dean leaned forward, arms steadying his weight as he studied her slack features and wondered what in the hell someone like her had seen in someone like him.
He hesitated; someone heaven touched, touching someone so damn broken didn’t fit in his skewed view of the world and the muscles in his arms tightened and Dean began to ease back. Dark lashes fluttered, her head turning towards him as green eyes opened and Dean stiffened, body going taunt as she stared up at him. Her throat tightened as she swallowed and her arm slipped away from her stomach to push her elbow into the mattress and raise her upper body.
Dean watched her rise, watched her come and couldn’t bring himself to meet her halfway. He watched her and felt a burning in his throat that had nothing to do with the Jim Bean he’d consumed the night before, a night in which he’d left the purplish hued bruises on her throat and she’d left teeth marks on his shoulder. Her gaze flitted across his face and down his bare chest to the jean-covered bulge at his crotch and a blush worked its way into her cheeks and down her throat before she pressed herself higher and closer to him.
She hesitated; the barest breath away from his face and her tongue eased out, wetting chapped lips as she studied his face before her gaze dipped to his mouth. She thrust her jaw forward and caught that mouth with her own, kept her hands fisted in the sheets of the bed and Dean’s eyes closed as he kissed her back. Pushing his mouth more forcefully against hers and she returned the bruising embrace, her teeth sinking into his bottom lip and tugging, leading him back down to the bed with that sharp movement.
A strangled sound eased its way out of the back of his throat and she swallowed it, kicking the sheets away from her body as her hands left the bed to unsnap his jeans and push them down his hips to free his cock. Dean pulled back, easing off the bed only long enough to step out of the pool of denim and then crawled back up. The sheets were gone, leaving Buffy covered only in the light of the sun and looking every bit the creature that had fallen from grace. He caught an ankle and tugged her forward, dragged her across the bed and the corners of her mouth turned upwards.
He hesitated; staring down at her smiling face as she spread her thighs and quirked a brow in silent invitation. His jaw tightened even as Dean lowered himself towards her and told himself that Zachariah’s future was wrong. He scraped a stubble-covered chin across her stomach, watched it quiver before his mouth found her skin and he whispered against it that he wouldn’t be the death of her.
She gasped, her legs spreading wider and Dean drew back from his promise and her skin and grasped the back of her knees, pulling to her the edge of the bed and knelt. Pressing his mouth against her damp sex and made her quiver and shake with just the barest brush of teeth and tongue. Fingers joined the dance of his mouth and her thighs trembled on either side of him as he found comfort in her skin before dropping his hand away and flattening his tongue against her sex. One sure, slow lick that brought his name past her lips in a breathy whine.
He didn’t hesitate; he rose and pushed her legs further apart and stepped between them. Green eyes blinked at him a moment, the confusion melting slowly until he began to work his way inside of her. His cock guided by his hand and her hands reached down, spread her sex wider and Dean grunted when his pelvis met with hers and she lifted her hips, rolling them forward and back and the movement withered her body, the trembling of her thighs spreading to her stomach as her breathing hitched. He met her tempo and increased it, his thighs meeting hers with the satisfying crack of skin meeting skin as he dragged more sounds from her, pulled her closer to that edge that blurred most lines of pleasure and pain, wrong and right, the line they shared so perfectly together.
A warmth spread from the base of his spine into his stomach and his balls tightened and Dean swore, muttering under his breath as he tried to slow the tempo and her inner walls clench. A grunt escaped him and he caught her hips, thrusts deepening as he lost control and spilled himself inside of her. He leaned over her, elbows buried in the mattress as his hips continued their shallow thrusts and Buffy caught his shoulders, dragged him down so that his chest was pressed tight to hers.
She traced idle patterns on his sweat-slicked back as he inhaled the bitter scent of her skin and bit gently at her shoulder. He concentrated on her and the warmth of her touch, ignoring the nagging voice snarling in his head that he’d just signed her death warrant. A content ‘hmmm’ vibrated up from Buffy and into Dean, curving his mouth against her skin as she shifted slightly and whispered, voice nearly hesitant, “You know I hate to break up the rare chick-flick moments you share with me, but I hafta pee.”
Dean snorted and eased his cock from between her wet folds before rolling off of Buffy and onto his back. His mouth curved into a slow smile as he watched her scramble off the bed and towards the bathroom still nude, still graceful and still bathed in sunlight.
The end.