Chapter six: Welcome to the jungle
***
2007
***
At two in the morning, Dean rolled over in bed and opened his eyes groggily. Faith’s body no longer lay spooned against his, how he remembered them falling asleep together after they made love a second time. He heard the front door close.
Bitch.
Snatching his jeans off the floor, Dean thrust one foot in the garment and then the other. His heart pounding with hurt outrage, he ran out the bedroom, into the main room and flung the front door open.
Faith was kneeling in the back seat of her car, clearly planning to desert him once more without a backwards glance.
“Don’t you do this, Faith!” Dean stumbled down the cabin’s front steps, running over to the car, pulling the car door open and yelling in at her. “Don’t you leave me again without saying good bye!”
Faith backed out off the back seat and stood up with a plastic store bag. Clad solely in Dean’s sweater, she regarded him in disbelief as she stood barefoot on the wet grass. “Take a chill pill.” She held up her full plastic bag. “I told you my sweaters were wet, I remembered they were still sitting in the back seat and didn’t want them to get mildew, Captain Panic Attack.”
“Huh.” Dean guessed he might have over reacted.
Faith clicked the door lock button on her car keys. “You coming back to bed? Or you got any more abandonment issues you wanna hash out?”
“Why don’t we rap about your issues, Faith?” Dean suggested as they walked back into the cabin together. He slapped his forehead. “Oh, hold on I forgot, we’re only here another two days.”
“Hey, we’d need a week to cover yours, pal.” Faith grabbed a bucket from underneath the kitchen sink and filled it with warm water. “And a whole month to cover mine.”
“You know I was completely outta my depth with how screwed up you were as a kid?” Dean handed her the plastic bag off the floor.
Faith plonked her three sweaters in the water. “Who wouldn’t be?”
***
1998
Texas
***
“Do you want me to buy you a packet of razors?” Dean came into their bedroom with pieces of toilet paper stuck to his bleeding jaw. “So you stop using mine to shave your legs and blunt the freaking blades?” God, it was like they were married. Faith had been with them for exactly five weeks today.
Her period started four days ago. Much to John’s profound ‘not ready to be a grandfather’ relief, combined with mortification at accidentally discovering the fact by glancing at the motel bathroom waste basket and noticing a discarded Tampax box in the trash. Female cycles, he didn’t want to go there. He never wanted to know about Mary’s.
“Yeah, seein’ how otherwise I’ll have to shop-lift ‘em, that’d be great.” Faith approved, sitting on the bed, putting down the music magazine she’d stolen from a library. She threw a pillow at Dean’s frowning face. “It’s okay to shoplift from big chains, Saint Dean. They mark up their prices to cover the loss. It’s not like I get off on it.”
“You’re gonna get busted one day, frisked down by some mouth breathing security guard.” Dean picked up the pillow from the floor and joined her on the bed. “Planning on five finger discounting in California? What do you want to do there anyway?”
To stay alive, Faith desired primarily. Hopefully once she made contact with this other slayer in Sunnydale, she’d get her own watcher, live with them for free like she did in Boston and slay vampires again which she missed doing. She itched to stake vampires, like a junkie jonesed for a hit. “I dunno. What would you wanna be, if you didn’t spend your life huntin’?”
“Be the owner of my own auto repair garage.” Dean put his head on her lap. He would be leaving the motel with his father in ten minutes. No real time remained available to do anything in bed. He just liked … being like this with her. “Or a Formula One driver, or a fire fighter, or an astronaut.”
“Sounds outta this world.” Faith ran her fingers through his short hair. “Guess you can play pretend.”
“Faith, just because I don’t wanna whack you on the butt and call you all the mean names under the sun, doesn’t mean I’m …. It doesn’t turn me on in the freaking slightest, hurting chicks, sorry.” Dean sighed, pressing his cheek against her mended skirt.
He screwed up first and he wished he hadn’t. “I was an asshole going out with that girl to the bar last night without you.” The freckled cute waitress he’d rescued from a demon, came across as all grateful and impressed by him, like Faith should be.
“You can do what you want, pal. It’s not like I was jealous for god’s sake. And like I told you, that spanking shit’s ‘cathartic’.” Ronnie taught her that word and how intense it could feel being treated that way and then being made love to gently afterwards.
Faith knew she narrowly escaped being left behind in Austin, after her retarded attempt to keep Dean interested in her. Faith panicked when she found out about Dean getting all friendly with the waitress, and she’d managed that night before Dean came home, to sneak off to a cemetery across the road from the motel, to stake a vampire clawing it’s way out of a grave, so she’d been all buzzed.
Dean stroked her shin. He wasn’t a prude, or hung up, or anything, he just couldn’t be bothered with any of that bondage and discipline crap. He’d tied up an ex-girlfriend once at her request. It was like boning a hostage. “Ya freaking perverted, hate to break it to you, baby.”
Faith pulled his hair playfully. Dean Vanilla Winchester, didn’t even try and stick it in her ass. Thank Christ; because that was one of Faith’s boundaries, being banged up the ass hurt her like hell afterwards and not in a good way. “I’m not into that shit anymore, relax. I was trying to jazz things up in bed, that’s all.”
“I’m not sick of you, okay?” Dean kept stroking her leg. He didn’t want to ask her if she was bored with him.
“Okay.” Faith didn’t know how much longer she could keep existing like this. Keeping herself in constant check, trying not to be too mean to Sam, being at Dean’s sexual beck and call, like a bitch in heat, even though she enjoyed screwing him, it tore her up inside with the stress of being something she wasn’t. Unless, being some kind of scummy on and off hooker like her mom was Faith’s true calling, and she couldn’t deal with that either.
***
2007
***
“This is not life as I know it.” Dean walked through the furniture warehouse in the nearest local big town to the cabin, shuddering at the store’s suburban customers becoming ecstatic over discounted armchairs.
“No? Wow, that oriental lampshade is only five dollars, what would that be in Euros?” Faith grabbed the packaged lampshade on display immediately and tucked it under her arm. It would squeeze into her bag to take back with her on the plane. “This baby will completely match the rug I have in my living room.”
“So you don’t go stir crazy living the nine to five grind, working in a florist store and living in the one place?” Dean checked, his arm wrapped round her waist securely again.
“Are you serious?” Faith rolled her eyes yet again. “Dublin kicks ass, man. My apartment’s great, the old couple I rent it off, give me vegetables from their garden. I’ve got real good friends there, people who don’t steal from you or leave their gear in the can after they’ve shot up, people who have actual lives. My boss at the flower shop’s got the best sense of humor. This sixteen year old slayer, Siobhan, lives there too and we team up together for patrolling with her watcher. My life’s never been this ‘functional’ before and it rocks, Dean.”
“Why Ireland of all places?” Dean narrowly avoided two kids running past them with sticky ice-cream cones.
“The magic worked best to give me a new identity from there.” Faith spotted the cushion aisle. You virtually needed a map in this joint. “Don’t ask me, I’m not Hermione Granger or this witch called Willow who pulled the paper trail for me. I’m not erased from the American Judicial System suckfully, they still have my fingerprints. But they don’t screen Irish citizens at the airports here, thank god.”
“Why did you need a new identity? Why aren’t you based out of Cleveland? Isn’t that where all the American slayers have their giant soriety dorm, head office?” Dean took out the folded piece of newspaper they’d traced the outline of the burnt cushion around, placing it over couch cushions, finding a match.
Faith saw herself telling the truth ‘yeah, but I’m a wanted murderer Dean, so I needed to go to the U.K. in a fucking hurry in 2003, before I ended up killing cops or they killed me.’ Faith smiled inspired. “The guy put in charge of Cleveland eventually, was an ex I never wanna see again.” Ex-one night stand anyhow, and she could never look at the guy without wondering what the fuck had she been thinking at the time, she hadn’t even been drinking.
“This cushion works.” Dean carried it with him while they discovered the checkout's location.
Faith paid for the cushion. Dean flirted with the checkout operator. “My girlfriend drives me crazy with her interior decoration schemes. I could be home watching football but I live to make her happy.”
The temporary couple found Faith’s car once more in the crowded parking lot.
“If I was your girlfriend, you’d be watching football right now, leaving beer rings on the coffee table, while I came back from grocery shopping.” Faith possessed no illusions. She unlocked the car doors.
“And you’d be nagging me to mow the lawns.” Dean got inside the hire car. “Except I’d cement them so you wouldn’t need to.”
“Why not put astro turf down? Then you could have your buds over, get all wasted at our Saturday night barbeques, play dodge ball in the back yard and someone would hafta be driven to the hospital with suspected concussion.” Faith suggested alternately, checking the oncoming traffic before she pulled out onto the busy main road.
“But that couldn’t be you on the mercy dash, because you’d have gotten too buzzed already with your gossiping girlfriends from your Tuesday night dance class.” Dean pointed to the road sign. “Left.”
“Is it making your dick shrink I’m driving?” Faith guessed it was left after all. She did a sharp U-turn that made Dean’s eyes water.
“Fuck you too, bud!” Faith yelled back at a shellshocked fellow road user who slammed his fist down on his horn at her.
“So go on, what else do we do?” Faith turned on the car stereo. Hard rock blared forth.
“Never fight about music.” Dean indicated the music playing over the stereo. “We fight about… the fact you want to go to Hawaii on our next vacation and I wanna go to Alaska.”
“Alaska, who the hell would choose Alaska over Hawaii?” Faith sped up for an orange light.
“See? We’ve been arguing about it for months now.”
***
1998
Arizona
***
They’d spent twenty minutes arguing about the incident. Faith thought enough time had been wasted already. This was meant to be a fun outing. Dean was only grumpy because she proved better at a knife throwing competition at the county fair than him. Faith proved to be way better than anyone else at the fair. She shouldn’t have entered. The preacher was right. The one hundred bucks prize money had been just too tempting.
Dean parked the car by the woods. The woods should be a romantic place to make love in, and safe, seeing how Dean and his father had taken out the evil spirit that had been haunting it.
“Forget about the preacher.” Faith undid Dean’s belt, unzipped his jeans and pushed his boxer shorts down.
“Don’t change the subject. What were you talking to that white dog-collared creep about, outside the fortune teller’s tent?” Dean considered it cheating on both his body’s and her part, that her hands stroking his hardening shaft and her moist breath on his balls were making him no longer care.
“My soul.” Faith swirled her tongue around the head of his cock, pumping the shaft with her hand. She put the head of his cock in her mouth and sucked gently. Her right hand kept a steady rhythm, while she cupped and caressed his balls with her left. She moved her head around in a figure eight position (a sharing ex-boyfriend had guided her in this technique) up and down. She began to gently suck his cock, sliding her mouth down, further and further, as far as she could take it.
Dean finally shut up.
Giving head could get real boring when you weren’t in the mood. Faith hoped Dean wouldn’t take too long to come tonight.
After pumping her head up and down for a while, Faith moved on to his balls. Licking, sucking, never biting, she’d done that trick aged fifteen while stoned, to a guy accidentally once, and got instantly punched in the head by her screaming victim for her dangerous mistake.
She kept stroking Dean's cock. Dean was groaning, great. In one sweeping motion she licked up from his balls, tonguing his shaft and deep throated him as far as she comfortably could.
Faith moved her head up and down rapidly in time with her hand, licking hard with her tongue. Dean pressed her head down with his hand. Faith jammed her tongue to stop his cock entering her mouth any further, otherwise she would throw up and she’d freaking told him that before.
Dean came in her mouth with the familiar grunt she knew so well. Faith held his cum in her mouth, opened the car door, and spat the cum outside on the grass. Christ she hated herself right now. Especially after what the preacher had told her.
“Are you okay, Faith?” Dean touched her shoulder hesitantly, as she sat back in the front seat of the car.
“Five by five.” Faith turned to him and smiled brightly. She was up a hundred bucks tonight, she was still on top.
“You don’t seem okay.” Dean put his arms around her. She was stiff and cold in his embrace. He didn’t get her and he didn’t get this whole set up he’d wound up in with her and thank god, they were in California next week.
She suddenly relaxed against him, hugging him fiercely and Dean didn’t ever want her to leave.
Faith buried her head against his chest and heard him inhale the scent of her hair. Mr. Vanilla had a hair fetish, typical. God, she was gonna die in the most hideous way imaginable and no one could help her except that preacher. And what he wanted in return…
That blow job she just gave Dean was gonna be great practice for it.
***
2007
***
Faith lay back, her ass on edge of the kitchen table, without a stitch of clothing on her, Dean stroked in and out of her slowly, his jeans around his ankles.
“We do this every Saturday afternoon, huh?” Faith wondered why he got to keep his clothes on. To save on her doing the laundry? Dean stopped thrusting in order to bend down and suck her left nipple until she gasped. She guessed that must be why.
“Yeah, before you start making dinner.” Dean switched to her right nipple.
“Me? No way, weekends you cook. Anyway, we’re having friends round tonight, remember?” Faith whimpered as his fingers began to toy with her clit.
“I’ll be firing the barbeque shortly.” Dean resumed stroking in and out of her, his fingers gently rubbing at her.
Faith swore harshly and came shuddering and squeezing around him. “I could make a lot of cracks about meat here, bud.”
“So could I.” Dean grunted, thrusting into her hard one last time. He ejaculated inside her and almost passed out with the force of the sensation.
Faith widened her eyes as he fell on top of her, pressing her back on the kitchen table. “Dean?”
Faith chuckled and stroked the back of his neck, waiting for him to recover.
“Whew,” he shook his head against her chest, coming back down to Earth. “So what do ya want for dinner tonight anyway?”
2007
***
At two in the morning, Dean rolled over in bed and opened his eyes groggily. Faith’s body no longer lay spooned against his, how he remembered them falling asleep together after they made love a second time. He heard the front door close.
Bitch.
Snatching his jeans off the floor, Dean thrust one foot in the garment and then the other. His heart pounding with hurt outrage, he ran out the bedroom, into the main room and flung the front door open.
Faith was kneeling in the back seat of her car, clearly planning to desert him once more without a backwards glance.
“Don’t you do this, Faith!” Dean stumbled down the cabin’s front steps, running over to the car, pulling the car door open and yelling in at her. “Don’t you leave me again without saying good bye!”
Faith backed out off the back seat and stood up with a plastic store bag. Clad solely in Dean’s sweater, she regarded him in disbelief as she stood barefoot on the wet grass. “Take a chill pill.” She held up her full plastic bag. “I told you my sweaters were wet, I remembered they were still sitting in the back seat and didn’t want them to get mildew, Captain Panic Attack.”
“Huh.” Dean guessed he might have over reacted.
Faith clicked the door lock button on her car keys. “You coming back to bed? Or you got any more abandonment issues you wanna hash out?”
“Why don’t we rap about your issues, Faith?” Dean suggested as they walked back into the cabin together. He slapped his forehead. “Oh, hold on I forgot, we’re only here another two days.”
“Hey, we’d need a week to cover yours, pal.” Faith grabbed a bucket from underneath the kitchen sink and filled it with warm water. “And a whole month to cover mine.”
“You know I was completely outta my depth with how screwed up you were as a kid?” Dean handed her the plastic bag off the floor.
Faith plonked her three sweaters in the water. “Who wouldn’t be?”
***
1998
Texas
***
“Do you want me to buy you a packet of razors?” Dean came into their bedroom with pieces of toilet paper stuck to his bleeding jaw. “So you stop using mine to shave your legs and blunt the freaking blades?” God, it was like they were married. Faith had been with them for exactly five weeks today.
Her period started four days ago. Much to John’s profound ‘not ready to be a grandfather’ relief, combined with mortification at accidentally discovering the fact by glancing at the motel bathroom waste basket and noticing a discarded Tampax box in the trash. Female cycles, he didn’t want to go there. He never wanted to know about Mary’s.
“Yeah, seein’ how otherwise I’ll have to shop-lift ‘em, that’d be great.” Faith approved, sitting on the bed, putting down the music magazine she’d stolen from a library. She threw a pillow at Dean’s frowning face. “It’s okay to shoplift from big chains, Saint Dean. They mark up their prices to cover the loss. It’s not like I get off on it.”
“You’re gonna get busted one day, frisked down by some mouth breathing security guard.” Dean picked up the pillow from the floor and joined her on the bed. “Planning on five finger discounting in California? What do you want to do there anyway?”
To stay alive, Faith desired primarily. Hopefully once she made contact with this other slayer in Sunnydale, she’d get her own watcher, live with them for free like she did in Boston and slay vampires again which she missed doing. She itched to stake vampires, like a junkie jonesed for a hit. “I dunno. What would you wanna be, if you didn’t spend your life huntin’?”
“Be the owner of my own auto repair garage.” Dean put his head on her lap. He would be leaving the motel with his father in ten minutes. No real time remained available to do anything in bed. He just liked … being like this with her. “Or a Formula One driver, or a fire fighter, or an astronaut.”
“Sounds outta this world.” Faith ran her fingers through his short hair. “Guess you can play pretend.”
“Faith, just because I don’t wanna whack you on the butt and call you all the mean names under the sun, doesn’t mean I’m …. It doesn’t turn me on in the freaking slightest, hurting chicks, sorry.” Dean sighed, pressing his cheek against her mended skirt.
He screwed up first and he wished he hadn’t. “I was an asshole going out with that girl to the bar last night without you.” The freckled cute waitress he’d rescued from a demon, came across as all grateful and impressed by him, like Faith should be.
“You can do what you want, pal. It’s not like I was jealous for god’s sake. And like I told you, that spanking shit’s ‘cathartic’.” Ronnie taught her that word and how intense it could feel being treated that way and then being made love to gently afterwards.
Faith knew she narrowly escaped being left behind in Austin, after her retarded attempt to keep Dean interested in her. Faith panicked when she found out about Dean getting all friendly with the waitress, and she’d managed that night before Dean came home, to sneak off to a cemetery across the road from the motel, to stake a vampire clawing it’s way out of a grave, so she’d been all buzzed.
Dean stroked her shin. He wasn’t a prude, or hung up, or anything, he just couldn’t be bothered with any of that bondage and discipline crap. He’d tied up an ex-girlfriend once at her request. It was like boning a hostage. “Ya freaking perverted, hate to break it to you, baby.”
Faith pulled his hair playfully. Dean Vanilla Winchester, didn’t even try and stick it in her ass. Thank Christ; because that was one of Faith’s boundaries, being banged up the ass hurt her like hell afterwards and not in a good way. “I’m not into that shit anymore, relax. I was trying to jazz things up in bed, that’s all.”
“I’m not sick of you, okay?” Dean kept stroking her leg. He didn’t want to ask her if she was bored with him.
“Okay.” Faith didn’t know how much longer she could keep existing like this. Keeping herself in constant check, trying not to be too mean to Sam, being at Dean’s sexual beck and call, like a bitch in heat, even though she enjoyed screwing him, it tore her up inside with the stress of being something she wasn’t. Unless, being some kind of scummy on and off hooker like her mom was Faith’s true calling, and she couldn’t deal with that either.
***
2007
***
“This is not life as I know it.” Dean walked through the furniture warehouse in the nearest local big town to the cabin, shuddering at the store’s suburban customers becoming ecstatic over discounted armchairs.
“No? Wow, that oriental lampshade is only five dollars, what would that be in Euros?” Faith grabbed the packaged lampshade on display immediately and tucked it under her arm. It would squeeze into her bag to take back with her on the plane. “This baby will completely match the rug I have in my living room.”
“So you don’t go stir crazy living the nine to five grind, working in a florist store and living in the one place?” Dean checked, his arm wrapped round her waist securely again.
“Are you serious?” Faith rolled her eyes yet again. “Dublin kicks ass, man. My apartment’s great, the old couple I rent it off, give me vegetables from their garden. I’ve got real good friends there, people who don’t steal from you or leave their gear in the can after they’ve shot up, people who have actual lives. My boss at the flower shop’s got the best sense of humor. This sixteen year old slayer, Siobhan, lives there too and we team up together for patrolling with her watcher. My life’s never been this ‘functional’ before and it rocks, Dean.”
“Why Ireland of all places?” Dean narrowly avoided two kids running past them with sticky ice-cream cones.
“The magic worked best to give me a new identity from there.” Faith spotted the cushion aisle. You virtually needed a map in this joint. “Don’t ask me, I’m not Hermione Granger or this witch called Willow who pulled the paper trail for me. I’m not erased from the American Judicial System suckfully, they still have my fingerprints. But they don’t screen Irish citizens at the airports here, thank god.”
“Why did you need a new identity? Why aren’t you based out of Cleveland? Isn’t that where all the American slayers have their giant soriety dorm, head office?” Dean took out the folded piece of newspaper they’d traced the outline of the burnt cushion around, placing it over couch cushions, finding a match.
Faith saw herself telling the truth ‘yeah, but I’m a wanted murderer Dean, so I needed to go to the U.K. in a fucking hurry in 2003, before I ended up killing cops or they killed me.’ Faith smiled inspired. “The guy put in charge of Cleveland eventually, was an ex I never wanna see again.” Ex-one night stand anyhow, and she could never look at the guy without wondering what the fuck had she been thinking at the time, she hadn’t even been drinking.
“This cushion works.” Dean carried it with him while they discovered the checkout's location.
Faith paid for the cushion. Dean flirted with the checkout operator. “My girlfriend drives me crazy with her interior decoration schemes. I could be home watching football but I live to make her happy.”
The temporary couple found Faith’s car once more in the crowded parking lot.
“If I was your girlfriend, you’d be watching football right now, leaving beer rings on the coffee table, while I came back from grocery shopping.” Faith possessed no illusions. She unlocked the car doors.
“And you’d be nagging me to mow the lawns.” Dean got inside the hire car. “Except I’d cement them so you wouldn’t need to.”
“Why not put astro turf down? Then you could have your buds over, get all wasted at our Saturday night barbeques, play dodge ball in the back yard and someone would hafta be driven to the hospital with suspected concussion.” Faith suggested alternately, checking the oncoming traffic before she pulled out onto the busy main road.
“But that couldn’t be you on the mercy dash, because you’d have gotten too buzzed already with your gossiping girlfriends from your Tuesday night dance class.” Dean pointed to the road sign. “Left.”
“Is it making your dick shrink I’m driving?” Faith guessed it was left after all. She did a sharp U-turn that made Dean’s eyes water.
“Fuck you too, bud!” Faith yelled back at a shellshocked fellow road user who slammed his fist down on his horn at her.
“So go on, what else do we do?” Faith turned on the car stereo. Hard rock blared forth.
“Never fight about music.” Dean indicated the music playing over the stereo. “We fight about… the fact you want to go to Hawaii on our next vacation and I wanna go to Alaska.”
“Alaska, who the hell would choose Alaska over Hawaii?” Faith sped up for an orange light.
“See? We’ve been arguing about it for months now.”
***
1998
Arizona
***
They’d spent twenty minutes arguing about the incident. Faith thought enough time had been wasted already. This was meant to be a fun outing. Dean was only grumpy because she proved better at a knife throwing competition at the county fair than him. Faith proved to be way better than anyone else at the fair. She shouldn’t have entered. The preacher was right. The one hundred bucks prize money had been just too tempting.
Dean parked the car by the woods. The woods should be a romantic place to make love in, and safe, seeing how Dean and his father had taken out the evil spirit that had been haunting it.
“Forget about the preacher.” Faith undid Dean’s belt, unzipped his jeans and pushed his boxer shorts down.
“Don’t change the subject. What were you talking to that white dog-collared creep about, outside the fortune teller’s tent?” Dean considered it cheating on both his body’s and her part, that her hands stroking his hardening shaft and her moist breath on his balls were making him no longer care.
“My soul.” Faith swirled her tongue around the head of his cock, pumping the shaft with her hand. She put the head of his cock in her mouth and sucked gently. Her right hand kept a steady rhythm, while she cupped and caressed his balls with her left. She moved her head around in a figure eight position (a sharing ex-boyfriend had guided her in this technique) up and down. She began to gently suck his cock, sliding her mouth down, further and further, as far as she could take it.
Dean finally shut up.
Giving head could get real boring when you weren’t in the mood. Faith hoped Dean wouldn’t take too long to come tonight.
After pumping her head up and down for a while, Faith moved on to his balls. Licking, sucking, never biting, she’d done that trick aged fifteen while stoned, to a guy accidentally once, and got instantly punched in the head by her screaming victim for her dangerous mistake.
She kept stroking Dean's cock. Dean was groaning, great. In one sweeping motion she licked up from his balls, tonguing his shaft and deep throated him as far as she comfortably could.
Faith moved her head up and down rapidly in time with her hand, licking hard with her tongue. Dean pressed her head down with his hand. Faith jammed her tongue to stop his cock entering her mouth any further, otherwise she would throw up and she’d freaking told him that before.
Dean came in her mouth with the familiar grunt she knew so well. Faith held his cum in her mouth, opened the car door, and spat the cum outside on the grass. Christ she hated herself right now. Especially after what the preacher had told her.
“Are you okay, Faith?” Dean touched her shoulder hesitantly, as she sat back in the front seat of the car.
“Five by five.” Faith turned to him and smiled brightly. She was up a hundred bucks tonight, she was still on top.
“You don’t seem okay.” Dean put his arms around her. She was stiff and cold in his embrace. He didn’t get her and he didn’t get this whole set up he’d wound up in with her and thank god, they were in California next week.
She suddenly relaxed against him, hugging him fiercely and Dean didn’t ever want her to leave.
Faith buried her head against his chest and heard him inhale the scent of her hair. Mr. Vanilla had a hair fetish, typical. God, she was gonna die in the most hideous way imaginable and no one could help her except that preacher. And what he wanted in return…
That blow job she just gave Dean was gonna be great practice for it.
***
2007
***
Faith lay back, her ass on edge of the kitchen table, without a stitch of clothing on her, Dean stroked in and out of her slowly, his jeans around his ankles.
“We do this every Saturday afternoon, huh?” Faith wondered why he got to keep his clothes on. To save on her doing the laundry? Dean stopped thrusting in order to bend down and suck her left nipple until she gasped. She guessed that must be why.
“Yeah, before you start making dinner.” Dean switched to her right nipple.
“Me? No way, weekends you cook. Anyway, we’re having friends round tonight, remember?” Faith whimpered as his fingers began to toy with her clit.
“I’ll be firing the barbeque shortly.” Dean resumed stroking in and out of her, his fingers gently rubbing at her.
Faith swore harshly and came shuddering and squeezing around him. “I could make a lot of cracks about meat here, bud.”
“So could I.” Dean grunted, thrusting into her hard one last time. He ejaculated inside her and almost passed out with the force of the sensation.
Faith widened her eyes as he fell on top of her, pressing her back on the kitchen table. “Dean?”
Faith chuckled and stroked the back of his neck, waiting for him to recover.
“Whew,” he shook his head against her chest, coming back down to Earth. “So what do ya want for dinner tonight anyway?”