Fic: Tis the Season (7/8)
Fic: Tis the Season (7/8)
Series: Special Projects
Summary: The holidays brings cultists to Metropolis. Fortunately, it also brings Dean, Sam and Chloe. While there, Sam runs into an old friend.
Author: pen37
Beta: Clarksmuse
Fandoms: Smallville/Supernatural
Characters: Chloe, Sam, Dean, Sarah Blake
Pairing:Chloe/Dean Sam/Sarah
Rating: Nc-17
This is a part of the Special Projects series. You can find the rest of the series here.
Written for the Crossovers100 challenge. Prompt #92 Christmas. The table is here.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8
A/N: This would be another one of those parts that earned this fic the NC-17 rating. Click at your own risk.
When Dean returned to the apartment, he saw that Chloe had cleaned up the mess, finished decorating the tree, and gone to bed. Judging by the restless way the futon shifted, she was awake and listening to him stumble around the apartment.
He’d had a few shots of whisky, but he wasn’t drunk. He was never that sloppy when working a case. The most he would allow himself was to get comfortably buzzed. Once he’d achieved that, he’d walked around Metropolis, watching the Christmas lights and thinking about things.
Now, he brushed his teeth to get rid of the alcohol smell on his breath and then slipped into the bed behind Chloe. He felt her posture stiffen, and she tried to hold herself away from him. But he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back against him. Then he buried his face in her too-short hair, and just breathed in the clean feminine scent of her vanilla shampoo and soap.
Within a few minutes, her posture relaxed, and she allowed him to pull her closer.
“You awake?” he asked gruffly.
“Yeah.” Her voice sounded thick - like she’d been crying. He cursed inwardly that he’d done that. “Where’d you go?”
“Over to the Apricot Tree,” he said quietly. “I paid the doorman off. The second the cultists show up to move their victim, he’ll contact Sam.”
“Can you trust him?”
“My fake Metro PD badge says that I can,” Dean said. “After that, I went somewhere to just . . . think.”
“I’ve been thinking too,” she whispered.
“About what?” he asked gently.
“You right about . . . my need to feel in control, I guess. . . I . . . it doesn’t have anything to do with you. I just . . . that thing made me feel helpless, Dean. And I’m so tired of feeling that way.”
He dropped a kiss to her temple. “You are so far from helpless, Chloe. The way you handled what it did to you. I don’t know of anyone who is that strong. I wish I could be strong that way,” he confessed quietly.
She turned in the bed so that she was facing him and pulled him into a comforting embrace. “You are strong, you know,” she whispered into his ear. “You take care of all of us, and you hold everything together when it wants to rip itself apart at the seams. You took care of me when that was the last thing you wanted to do. I know that you didn’t want to be near me after what happened.”
That was the opening that Dean needed. He bit his lip, and then plunged ahead. “About that. . . Chloe, something happened to you before you woke up.”
“I know,” she said softly. “It wasn’t your fault. You don’t need to worry about it.”
Dean wanted to rest easy at her words, but they were just too vague to take comfort in.
“What does that mean, exactly Chloe? What don’t I have to worry about?”
“I just meant that I don’t blame you. And. . . I’m not pregnant. I’ve already checked into that. I just . . . wasn’t going to worry you about it if you hadn’t given it a thought yet.”
“I was more concerned about you,” Dean whispered. “I didn’t want that for you, Chloe.”
“Then stop worrying.” She ran a comforting hand down the side of his face. “I don’t remember it, and I’m more concerned about the way that the walls won’t stay back where they belong, at any rate. So . . . clean slate, okay?”
“Yeah, okay.” Dean breathed out.
“Dean?”
“Yeah?”
“I didn’t want that for you, either.”
Dean buried his face in the crook of her shoulder, and let the tears come. In the darkness, it was easier. Almost as if he wasn't the one breaking down. There was no one to see him sob out his grief that way, other than her. She held him close, let him pour his anguish into her, and stroked his shoulders comfortingly as she rocked him.
** *
Dean awoke gradually to the smell of coffee and the unwelcome lack of Chloe next to him in the bed. Usually, she got up in the middle of the night when her own sleep requirements had been fulfilled. But he could count on her to return to bed before he woke.
He blinked sleep from his eyes and sat up to look for her. She sitting curled into a chair, wearing only her underwear and one of his old t-shirts. Her hands were wrapped around a steaming mug of coffee. She wore a look of blank thoughtfulness on her face as she contemplated the falling snow outside her window.
“Hey,” he called out to her.
She blinked, and then turned to give him a radiant smile. “Hey, yourself.”
He patted the space next to him, and motioned with his head that he wanted her to come back to bed.
“Gotta warn you,” she said with a tiny smile. “My feet are cold.”
“I think I can take it,” he said.
She drained her mug, then left it sitting on her chair and padded back to bed. He winced as her chilled feet slid down his calves. “You weren’t kidding.”
“Told ya’.” Her voice held a tinge of smugness.
“Why aren’t you wearing socks, woman?”
“And miss the chance to let you warm me up?” she asked with a smile.
“Oh, I’ll warm you up,” he said with a slow, lazy smile. He meant it jokingly, but his words seemed to ignite some fire in her eyes. Chloe leaned over him and covered his lips with her own. He felt her tongue brush his lips in a silent plea for entry. He parted his lips and pulled her into his mouth. She tasted like coffee and cream and vanilla and cinnamon.
Then, she straddled his hips. He was half-shocked at her bold actions. She’d always been tentative when it came to the physical side of their relationship. But their conversation last night seemed to have stripped away the last of her inhibitions.
She was soft in all the right places, and for the first time in months, he felt desire coil low in his belly. He wrapped his arms around her desperately and pressed his hardness against her so that she could feel the effect he was having on her.
When they came up for air, she smiled down at him and tilted her head. “Hi.”
“Hi.” He smiled back up at her. “I think I’d like to continue this discussion.”
“We were talking?” she asked. Then she leaned forward and kissed the end of his nose.
“Oh, there are all kinds of ways to talk,” he said as his hands roamed her back.
“Mmmm,” she whispered over his skin as she kissed her way across his cheeks.
“What are you doing?”
“Memorizing your freckles.”
“I’d like to return the favor,” he whispered as he zeroed in on the triangle of moles at her cheek.
“Not so fast, mister. I think the bargain was that you tell me what you’re good at.”
“I know what I’m good at,” he grinned up at her.
“What?”
“Loving you.”
Chloe’s green eyes turned misty dark emerald with mixed love and desire. “That’s . . . a good answer,” she said quietly. Then there were no more words to be said as their lips met in a haze of frantic mating. He shifted, flexed muscles, and then rolled so that she was underneath him. He felt her resist the motion and pulled back to look questioningly into her eyes.
He could see the desire for control there, as with everything else. In response, he cradled her face in his hands. “Let it go, Chloe. Just . . . let me love you.”
She breathed deeply, and then nodded. “Okay,” she whispered.
He dove back into her mouth, then nipped at her jawline before finding his way down her neck. Then he sat up, pulling her with him and stripping the shirt off over her head. He paused in his ministrations to admire her pale creamy breasts.
“You’re perfect.” his breath raised goosebumps over her skin as he stared in open admiration. He looked up, to see her give him a watery smile. “I mean it, Chloe. You’re perfect.” He touched the side of her face. “Everywhere.”
“Dean, I . . .” she shook her head, and then leaned back again, pulling him with her. She pulled his lips down to her own, even as she arched against him. His own shirt quickly followed the one she’d been wearing. He paused to savor the way her naked flesh felt against his own, before once more diving in after her soft breast. He took it into his mouth, alternately biting and suckling.
In response, she began to moan. Vocally. He looked up with a feral grin at that.
“Always thought you’d be a screamer,” he growled.
“Is that bad?” she whispered to him.
“Hell no,” he chuckled as he switched his attention to her other breast. Again he laved her soft curves, prompting another moan. “You have no idea how much it turns me on to hear that. I like knowing that my woman likes what I’m doing to her.”
He left a wet, messy trail down to her navel and paused to skim it before moving lower. When he reached the lacy edge of her underwear, he paused to grin up at her. She had a wide-eyed, intrigued expression on her face. “No one’s ever done this before, have they?”
She shook her head slowly. Dean grinned at that. Chloe was no virgin, but judging by her expression, she was still innocent in a lot of ways. He was definitely going to enjoy giving her one hell of an education. In the space between breaths, he stripped off her underwear. Then, he paused to admire her again.
If he’d been a poet, he could have written pages and pages about her curves: the curve of her hip. The curve of her spine. The way the side of her breast curved against her arm. Instead, he showed with the touch of his lips what he couldn’t convey in words.
He was an acolyte and Chloe was his temple. She smelled like an angel and tasted like heaven. Each kiss was a hymn of praise. Soon he had her writhing at his touch, and crying out her own refrain. Then he covered her mouth with his own to muffle the loudest of her cries. When they came up for air again, she looked at him through desire-hooded eyes.
“That was . . .” she gasped.
“Only the beginning,” Dean said. He leaned forward, and bit her earlobe. “What do you want, Chloe?”
She groaned in response. “M . . . make love to me, Dean.”
“Your wish,” he whispered back.
“W . . . Wait!” she put a hand on his broad shoulder. “Condom.”
Dean’s brain chased backward on the path of his memory frantically. It had been a really long time since he’d been in this position. The morning he’d met Chloe, actually. But he’d been constantly hoping to talk her out of her pants since the day he’d met her.
“Hold that thought,” he quickly retreated to the bathroom and returned just as quickly.
“Do I even want to know?” Chloe quirked an eyebrow at her.
“Last time we were home,” he shrugged disarmingly. “Hey, we had a date, and you’re hot. I was hoping . . .”
She grinned, rolled her eyes, and shook her head. “Ever the optimist?”
“Hope springs eternal.” He grinned at her. He started to open the foil packet when her tiny hands stopped him.
“Let me,” she whispered. Dean nodded slowly. His eyes widened as Chloe opened the packet, and then placed the condom in her mouth. She then rolled it onto him slowly, taking his length into her mouth as she did so. He shut his eyes and leaned his head back at the sensation. So much for being innocent. If she kept that up, he wouldn’t last much longer. Which would completely defeat the purpose of what he was planning.
“Wait,” he whispered. Then he picked her up, and laid her back on the bed. He quickly covered her body with his own. In response, she wrapped her legs around his waist, and pulled his length into her tight, slick channel. Dean shut his eyes and buried his face in her shoulder. This was how it should be. Making love to her was like coming home. His hands spanned her hips, and he gripped desperately as he began to thrust.
Her legs tightened around him as he pounded into her. She arched against him, meeting him thrust for thrust. He realized that she wasn’t just moaning incoherently, she was screaming his name. The sound pushed him over the edge. He groaned her name in response as she joined him. Then he collapsed against her.
He lifted his head, and stared into her hooded eyes. She looked incredibly satiated. He carefully discarded the used condom, and then returned to wrap her into his arms and pillow her head on his chest again. For the first time in a long time, he felt content.
** *
They lay together, limbs entwined for hours. Dean would occasionally stroke the side of her face, or press a kiss to her forehead as if trying to assure himself that she was real.
At last, he cleared his throat.
She looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. As if to ask him what was up.
“With your healing abilities, how does birth control work?”
She giggled. “Now? You wait until now to ask?”
He grinned at her good-naturedly. “I have been accused of thinking with the wrong brain from time to time.”
“The hormone-based stuff doesn’t work,” Chloe said. “Hence - Condom.”
Dean nodded. “We are so going to go through those little buggers.”
“You sound very sure of yourself,” Chloe chuckled.
“Oh, hell yeah,” he pulled her under him and captured her lips with his. “We’ve got a hell of a lot of lost time to make up for.”
Before Chloe could reply, his phone chimed out. He ignored it in favor of kissing her neck again. “You’re never going to get hickies,” he said regretfully.
“You going to get that?” Chloe laughed.
“No. I’m not here.” He shook his head.
She laughed. “It could be important.”
“This is important,” Dean said as he ran his hands down her back to cup her rear and arch her into him again.
“It could be case related,” Chloe said as she hooked her leg around him and placed her own open-mouthed kisses along his collarbone.
Dean groaned in frustration and snatched up his phone. The caller id showed that Sammy was trying to call in. He rolled onto his back and clicked the phone on. “What?”
“Hello to you, too.” Sam sounded surprised at his surly greeting. “Any idea why the doorman at the Apricot Tree is calling me?” Next to him, Chloe suddenly got a mischievous glint in her eye. She dove beneath the covers.
Dean tried to focus on what Sam was saying. But it was tough, when Chloe started kissing her way down his chest. “I gave him your number. The cultists must be about to move their sacrificial victim.”
“And what was wrong with your number” Sam asked suspiciously.
“Listen, College Boy. I spent all day yesterday working this case while you and Sarah were doin' research. So now it's your turn to contribute.”
Under the covers, Chloe reached his waist and then went lower.
“What are you doing that you want me to take up the slack?” Sam asked in an annoyed tone.
“Um . . . we're busy?” His voice climbed several octaves as she took his length into her mouth.
“Busy?” Sam asked suspiciously. “What are you . . .You guys are doing it, aren’t you?” The way Sam said that made him think that he didn’t really want to know the answer.
“Hmmmm,” Dean hummed contentedly. He could feel Chloe shake with silent laughter, even as she went down on him. “Sorry? Whassat? Chloe and I we're . . .um . . . talking? Or something.”
“Oh God! Now? While you're on the phone?” Sam sounded disgusted by the idea. “I can hear you breathing heavy.”
“Dude. If you don’t want to know. Don’t ask - Oh God!” he shut his eyes, and leaned his head back into the pillow as he came again.
“I’m hanging up now,” Sam said. “We’re going to go shadow the cultists. You guys just - try and catch up to us as soon as possible.”
“Be right there, dude,” Dean said.
“Whatever,” Sam sounded disgruntled as he clicked the phone off.
“You!” Dean looked down as Chloe’s head peeked out from the blanket. Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “You are evil, woman.”
“So you didn’t like that?” she said innocently.
“Oh, hell yeah!” Dean grinned at her. He pulled her into a quick kiss. “In fact, I’m hoping for a repeat performance later. But for now -- get dressed and call your cousin. We’ve got work to do.”