fic: covetous
Title: covetous
Author: puchuupoet
Pairing: Zachariah/Impala
Word Count: ~645
Rating: hard R
Heads-up: implied car humping
Disclaimer: Not mine, never happened, completely fictional.
Notes: I don't even know anymore. Thanks to cho_malfoy for all the encouragement ♥
It's a cold night, the temperature dipping down into the single digits. Ice is starting to form on the motel sign as the wind picks up.
Zachariah stands underneath the eve of the office, staring out over the parking lot. It's mostly empty, out of season for tourists and out of the way for truckers. There's a lifted pickup truck about halfway down the line of rooms, a lone man struggling to get his bags out of the backseat, but Zachariah's not here for him.
His goal is sitting at the very end of the parking lot, and Zachariah walks slowly in that direction. There's no one of importance around to see him, so he lets himself relax for a moment. For as useless as this world is, there are some things to be enjoyed here, and the ice cold air is one of them.
Zachariah stops in front of the door of the last room, the metal 43 spotted with rust. The Winchesters are inside, sleeping restlessly despite the amount of alcohol involved. He's not sure what they're bothering to celebrate, with the way things are going, but tonight it's just an additional perk. He turns his back to the building, his breath inadvertently catching in his throat. His hands tighten into fists in his pockets, and he has to remind himself to keep himself cloaked from his brethren.
She stands before him sleek and cool, all smooth curves against the rough asphalt under her. Zachariah can see that it's starting to snow, the flakes sticking to the hood. They only last for a moment though, melting away to trail down her body. Zachariah's eyes follow the droplet until it lands on the ground in a slow drip.
There's a solid thunk that echoes across the parking lot as the pickup driver shuts his motel door against the cold. Zachariah looks over to make sure he's alone before taking a step towards her. He could easily put the area on hold, freeze everything and one with a snap of his fingers. He won't though, as the dirty thrill of getting caught by a human makes his vessel's heart race in a delicious way.
She's cold against his fingertips, damp and dirty from condensation and from being on the road for so long. But underneath that she's smooth, her topcoat shiny and exposed when Zachariah lifts his fingers. The pads of them are dirty and Zachariah wipes them on his coat. He doesn't bother trying to hide his smile, pleased at the marks left on the hood. It's just a bonus that Dean will wake up in the morning to find Zachariah's handiwork on her.
Zachariah closes his eyes, recalling the day he had trailed after the Winchesters, pissed off and ready to strike; his orders be damned. They had been speeding down the highway, the far-off horizon rippling from the heat. Zachariah had taken wing, masked and following tightly against the car. He had been tempted to reach down and hold on to the roof, to make the moment more tangibly real, but Dean's laughter had drifted out the window, snapping Zachariah back to reality.
He had stayed back after that, annoyed at himself for getting too caught up in it all. But he kept with them, pushing hard against daylight. It had been warm, the heat amplifying the smell of rubber and oil. Dean revved the engine, the air rippling from the action and Zachariah had let the reverberation wash over him.
There's a freezing gust of wind that drags him back to the present, and when he collects himself he realizes that his vessel is hard. Another glance around at his surroundings confirms that he's still alone, and Zachariah leans in closer, his hips tilting towards the side panel.
The parking lot is silent, and the snow begins to fall faster.
Author: puchuupoet
Pairing: Zachariah/Impala
Word Count: ~645
Rating: hard R
Heads-up: implied car humping
Disclaimer: Not mine, never happened, completely fictional.
Notes: I don't even know anymore. Thanks to cho_malfoy for all the encouragement ♥
It's a cold night, the temperature dipping down into the single digits. Ice is starting to form on the motel sign as the wind picks up.
Zachariah stands underneath the eve of the office, staring out over the parking lot. It's mostly empty, out of season for tourists and out of the way for truckers. There's a lifted pickup truck about halfway down the line of rooms, a lone man struggling to get his bags out of the backseat, but Zachariah's not here for him.
His goal is sitting at the very end of the parking lot, and Zachariah walks slowly in that direction. There's no one of importance around to see him, so he lets himself relax for a moment. For as useless as this world is, there are some things to be enjoyed here, and the ice cold air is one of them.
Zachariah stops in front of the door of the last room, the metal 43 spotted with rust. The Winchesters are inside, sleeping restlessly despite the amount of alcohol involved. He's not sure what they're bothering to celebrate, with the way things are going, but tonight it's just an additional perk. He turns his back to the building, his breath inadvertently catching in his throat. His hands tighten into fists in his pockets, and he has to remind himself to keep himself cloaked from his brethren.
She stands before him sleek and cool, all smooth curves against the rough asphalt under her. Zachariah can see that it's starting to snow, the flakes sticking to the hood. They only last for a moment though, melting away to trail down her body. Zachariah's eyes follow the droplet until it lands on the ground in a slow drip.
There's a solid thunk that echoes across the parking lot as the pickup driver shuts his motel door against the cold. Zachariah looks over to make sure he's alone before taking a step towards her. He could easily put the area on hold, freeze everything and one with a snap of his fingers. He won't though, as the dirty thrill of getting caught by a human makes his vessel's heart race in a delicious way.
She's cold against his fingertips, damp and dirty from condensation and from being on the road for so long. But underneath that she's smooth, her topcoat shiny and exposed when Zachariah lifts his fingers. The pads of them are dirty and Zachariah wipes them on his coat. He doesn't bother trying to hide his smile, pleased at the marks left on the hood. It's just a bonus that Dean will wake up in the morning to find Zachariah's handiwork on her.
Zachariah closes his eyes, recalling the day he had trailed after the Winchesters, pissed off and ready to strike; his orders be damned. They had been speeding down the highway, the far-off horizon rippling from the heat. Zachariah had taken wing, masked and following tightly against the car. He had been tempted to reach down and hold on to the roof, to make the moment more tangibly real, but Dean's laughter had drifted out the window, snapping Zachariah back to reality.
He had stayed back after that, annoyed at himself for getting too caught up in it all. But he kept with them, pushing hard against daylight. It had been warm, the heat amplifying the smell of rubber and oil. Dean revved the engine, the air rippling from the action and Zachariah had let the reverberation wash over him.
There's a freezing gust of wind that drags him back to the present, and when he collects himself he realizes that his vessel is hard. Another glance around at his surroundings confirms that he's still alone, and Zachariah leans in closer, his hips tilting towards the side panel.
The parking lot is silent, and the snow begins to fall faster.