AU: Mistakes (here, there be Sarah and Derek. Lawd help us all)
[in this AU, Kyle isn't in the village and John isn't with Derek; mentions events in game canon. Co-written with Derek-mun]
Derek shrugged his jacket off with a groan, his shoulder throbbing, draping it over the back of the sofa. He hadn't used his gun like that in a while and although the shooting range was a controlled environment, this was different. It would never be like shooting at the two machines wreaking havoc in town with all that adrenalin rushing in his veins.
Fuck. Two tin cans going after each other was a fucking sight to see. But even if Derek would much rather watch them actually destroy each other, he had to stop it because they were out there destroying everything else. Damned machines.
John fucked up. Knowing the boy, he'd own up to it but god, Derek dreaded when Sarah found out. She'd bitch about it and rightfully so. Derek just wasn't sure he wanted to hear any of that shit right now.
He sighed, kicking off his shoes then he rolled his shoulders slowly, groaning again when a knock sounded at the door.
It was Sarah, head down. She needed to talk to John, find out about Cameron, find out if there were other glitches. She knocked again. "It's me."
"Fuck." Derek heaved a breath and then headed to the door, opening it wide, gesturing for Sarah to come in. Might as well get it over with. He was in a dark mood already.
That much was obvious, but what was new? Sarah upnodded at him. "Where's John?"
"With the metal." Derek answered, watching her walk in, waiting for her to say something about what had happened--because she would.
She walked over to the window first, looking out at the street. "Did they cause that?"
Derek walked over and stood behind Sarah, looking over her shoulder, out the window, out into the street. He frowned. "What do you think?"
She sighed out a breath, arms crossed over her chest. "How'd it happen?"
"Uncle Bob," Derek started, saying it with sarcasm, "saw the other tin can and went after it." He waved a hand at the picture from the window. "That's what happened."
Sighing, Sarah turned away from the window. "And it can be traced to us." No way around it in a village this size.
"John's got a cover. The big one will confess." He said, suddenly faced with Sarah in front of him when she turned around that his heartbeat thumped a little louder.
Derek wasn't Kyle. Sarah knew this. But he had Kyle's blood, some of the same small mannerisms. They were enough to throw her off her game, make her crazy. It was bad enough they were trapped here, no escaping, no clicking the heels. She looked up at him. And she didn't move away.
She should move away, or Derek should, but he only looked at her and all he could see was that picture of her that Kyle carried with him all the time. The same picture that had haunted his own dreams and yeah, a few fantasies, too. "It won't be traced." Derek kept staring until his skin was hot.
"Reese," Sarah said and it came out a whisper between her teeth.
She was so lonely. She would never admit it aloud, but she was.
Perhaps that's why her hands fisted in his shirt and she pulled him down, crushing her mouth hard enough to split his lips. She licked into his mouth, hot, already moaning, feeling the heat pool between her legs.
Fuck! It wasn't expected, but Derek kissed back with almost the same amount of desperation. He was lonely, too, but he would never, ever admit that. Not even to himself.
There was a groan and Derek was surprised it came from deep down his throat. He grabbed on to the back of Sarah's head, fingers sinking into her hair while his arm wrapped tight around her tiny waist. He lifted her then, almost effortlessly, pressing her to his chest while he growled and plunged his tongue between her lips.
It was easy, then, too easy, to wrap her legs around his waist and squeeze, keeping her there, hands fisted into his shirt. This wasn't love, don't mistake that. This was ... not that. She bit down on his lower lip, stopping short of breaking the skin, and she arched her back, feeling her nipples harden and the tingle of rubbing them against his chest.
He had her pinned to the wall. How that happened? Fuck if he knew. Derek had a strong large hand sliding under her shirt, over her breasts, cupping and then squeezing while he groaned even louder before finally releasing the brutal kiss. His mouth didn't stop moving though, kissing and nipping the side of her neck, down her throat.
It was as if the air was heavier here. Sarah had to work harder to breathe. Derek's hand felt like sandpaper, felt like something too hard, more used to handling guns than people. Weren't they all like that, though? Even John.
Don't think about John. Over his shoulder, Sarah pulled at Derek's shirt. It needed to come off.
He pressed his hips down harder, holding Sarah up by sheer force of will. Derek was quick to release his mouth on her skin and then he pulled his shirt off and fast before grabbing the hem of hers and tugging that off.
She had a bra on, thin and flimsy and that he fumbled to take off, giving up and just pulling the straps down her arms, uncovering one breast before he took the nipple in his mouth, groaning as he flicked his tongue over a very firm nipple. Fuck. He should stop. But goddamn it, he didn't want to.
She was so wet. It was almost embarrassing how wet she was. She could feel him through two sets of jeans and she shuddered, hard. His mouth was like fire and she groaned, head back against the wall. This was no time for thinking at all.
With a shove, she dropped to her feet again to reach for his fly, rough, utilitarian, pulling the button free and the zipper down, shoving the denim away to palm over him almost roughly. Now, before she realized what she was doing.
It was nothing but harsh breaths and impatient growls with hands deft at removing clothes, tugging, yanking, push-pulling. Derek had kicked off his jeans, groaning at the small but hot hand on his cock, his hips rocking into it. He had his hand back on her breast, pushing her back up against the wall, teeth biting down on her shoulder before Derek's lips made their way back down to her breast. "Fuck!" Now his other hand slipped inside her panties, fingers getting wet because she was god damned soaking that it was only too easy to push a finger inside her, pumping it slow.
"Ah." It was a refusal of the invasion and a plea for more. She was bent back and rucked a leg up his hip. It was almost too much, too rough and already she was close to coming, scratching a trail up his back, taking his skin with her as she threw her head back.
Derek hissed. That fucking hurt. "Goddamn it!" Pumping his hand up and down even faster, each upthrust pushed the heel of his palm on her clit and Derek pulled back, looking at Sarah's face. She was going to fucking come and he could feel it. "Come on!" He growled, griding his hips against her thigh, pushing his cock in her hand.
She wanted to call him every name she'd ever learned in the jungles, in Mexico, in the asylum. She wanted to hiss and spit at him.
Instead, she felt her body give, felt that vicious pleasure she hadn't known since Charley eat her up and spit her out, leaving her whimpering like someone who was weak and wanting.
They were both fucking weak and wanting. Derek was not faring any better. Growling at the way she clenched around his fingers. Wanting. Needing. This was all this was. A need. Fuck! Sarah looked amazing when she came and that only made Derek want her even more.
...Fuck it.
He pulled his fingers out, grabbed the crotch of her panties and yanked, hard, the rip of material heard and then Derek tossed it to the floor. With one arm around her waist he heaved her up, a hand around his dick and then Derek pushed inside her, then shoved her up against the wall. Her back slammed against it from the force of that first thrust, growling as his cock was engulfed in hot and wet and need.
Sarah cried out again, finger with short, blunt nails digging into Derek's neck, the cords there, hard enough to leave crescent moon shaped-bruises that would linger for two days after, hidden by a jacket collar. It felt like she was rent open; it had been a long time.
Derek's hips pistoned, hands on her waist, hard enough to leave bruises, as he pushed her down each time he thrust up. It was skin slapping on skin, slick, because fuck! Sarah was too fucking wet, too tight that Derek had to grunt to push through the clench. He wasn't thinking of what this meant, of how fucking awkward it was going to be after. All he knew was that he needed this. Her. They both needed it.
All of it sent Sarah's mind spinning, and she couldn't catch her breath. She was lost. She was a mass of nerve endings, she was everything and nothing. "Derek," she gasped out, clinging to him. "Derek."
Derek...
Damn fucking straight! He growled even louder, moved even faster, pushing deep and trembling. "Fuck!" Derek hooked his hand on her shoulders, arm across her back, pulling her off from the wall and pushing aside all the fucking crap on the table near them.
Things fell with a THUD and a CRASH just as Derek laid her down, laid her out for him. With a hand behind her knee he parted her thighs, large hand splayed on her belly while his thumb grated rough and fast against her clit. He slammed into her over and over and over until he was panting so hard that he could hardly breathe.
Each thrust jarred her. She could feel the wood biting into her back and the the nearly-too-much pain of the way he was fucking her. That's what it was. Fucking. Nothing more and nothing less. She was close to coming again already, balling in her stomach, making her roll up some, but not close her eyes. She wanted to see.
Goddamnedmotherfucker, he was close. Fucking close. He rubbed and pressed against her clit, eyes demanding her to fucking, "Come! Do it! For me!" For him. Him. Derek.
He pounded into her. Hard, deep, fast. Derek's jaw clenched and then he shuddered, grunting climax looming close, hips pumping.
Derek was a bastard. Sarah knew this. She was a bitch. Maybe that was what they had in common. She wanted to not come just to spite him, but her body betrayed her and Sarah bit back her cry as she bucked up, then back down against the table, muscles clenching around his cock. "You now," she hissed out. "Now you."
He rode her through the tight clench, his cock wrapped in a vice that Derek's head fell back and he growled toward the ceiling. The fucking table was rattling, legs squeaking, pushed forward at the force of his thrusts with Derek not stopping until his dick stopped pulsing inside her. He was blowing hot air out, taking shaky ones in, chest heaving and still with his length inside her. Derek stared. He didn't care about what they just did. Only that it was a need met and then Derek combed his fingers through her hair, fisting, pulling her up by it and then dipping down; the kiss he gave her just as brutal as their fucking.
The sting to her scalp was sharp and kept her focused and her nails scraped from his neck to his shoulders as she sucked on her tongue before falling back to the table and pushing him off of her, out of her and she rolled to her side before pushing herself to stand. Almost immediately, his come started dripping out of her and she hated it. She hated herself for being weak, for her body for responding so strongly. She hated Derek for being Kyle's brother, but not Kyle. She hated the village.
She reached for her clothes. She needed to go before John got back from work. As she started to dress, she could hardly look over at him.
Derek watched her for a moment, waiting for some smart ass, bitchy comment that didn't come. Huh. Not yet. He grabbed his shirt from the floor, wiping his cock down still slick with his come and her juices. He tossed that back to the floor. Derek then tugged his jeans back on, zipped it up and leaving the button undone. He faced Sarah then. What would he say? Nothing, really. It happened. That was it. Couldn't change that. Derek licked his lips; he could still taste her.
Sarah, however, was looking at the floor, the wall, anywhere but Derek. "John can't know."
That was all she said, then she headed toward the door.
Derek hissed softly as he moved, feeling the stretch of skin from the raised welts of her scratches on his back and his neck, sharp stinging from those that broke skin. With his lips pressed together, Derek gave Sarah a curt nod even if she couldn't see it. He wouldn't offer the information to John but if the boy found out, he found out. They were adults, there was a need. Do the math.
Outside the door, Sarah stopped, just for a moment, her hand on the knob. She could say something, could do... something. But what? Nothing. Shaking her head just a little, she headed for her room and the shower, trying not to think of what just happened. Except that she could remember everything.
Derek shrugged his jacket off with a groan, his shoulder throbbing, draping it over the back of the sofa. He hadn't used his gun like that in a while and although the shooting range was a controlled environment, this was different. It would never be like shooting at the two machines wreaking havoc in town with all that adrenalin rushing in his veins.
Fuck. Two tin cans going after each other was a fucking sight to see. But even if Derek would much rather watch them actually destroy each other, he had to stop it because they were out there destroying everything else. Damned machines.
John fucked up. Knowing the boy, he'd own up to it but god, Derek dreaded when Sarah found out. She'd bitch about it and rightfully so. Derek just wasn't sure he wanted to hear any of that shit right now.
He sighed, kicking off his shoes then he rolled his shoulders slowly, groaning again when a knock sounded at the door.
It was Sarah, head down. She needed to talk to John, find out about Cameron, find out if there were other glitches. She knocked again. "It's me."
"Fuck." Derek heaved a breath and then headed to the door, opening it wide, gesturing for Sarah to come in. Might as well get it over with. He was in a dark mood already.
That much was obvious, but what was new? Sarah upnodded at him. "Where's John?"
"With the metal." Derek answered, watching her walk in, waiting for her to say something about what had happened--because she would.
She walked over to the window first, looking out at the street. "Did they cause that?"
Derek walked over and stood behind Sarah, looking over her shoulder, out the window, out into the street. He frowned. "What do you think?"
She sighed out a breath, arms crossed over her chest. "How'd it happen?"
"Uncle Bob," Derek started, saying it with sarcasm, "saw the other tin can and went after it." He waved a hand at the picture from the window. "That's what happened."
Sighing, Sarah turned away from the window. "And it can be traced to us." No way around it in a village this size.
"John's got a cover. The big one will confess." He said, suddenly faced with Sarah in front of him when she turned around that his heartbeat thumped a little louder.
Derek wasn't Kyle. Sarah knew this. But he had Kyle's blood, some of the same small mannerisms. They were enough to throw her off her game, make her crazy. It was bad enough they were trapped here, no escaping, no clicking the heels. She looked up at him. And she didn't move away.
She should move away, or Derek should, but he only looked at her and all he could see was that picture of her that Kyle carried with him all the time. The same picture that had haunted his own dreams and yeah, a few fantasies, too. "It won't be traced." Derek kept staring until his skin was hot.
"Reese," Sarah said and it came out a whisper between her teeth.
She was so lonely. She would never admit it aloud, but she was.
Perhaps that's why her hands fisted in his shirt and she pulled him down, crushing her mouth hard enough to split his lips. She licked into his mouth, hot, already moaning, feeling the heat pool between her legs.
Fuck! It wasn't expected, but Derek kissed back with almost the same amount of desperation. He was lonely, too, but he would never, ever admit that. Not even to himself.
There was a groan and Derek was surprised it came from deep down his throat. He grabbed on to the back of Sarah's head, fingers sinking into her hair while his arm wrapped tight around her tiny waist. He lifted her then, almost effortlessly, pressing her to his chest while he growled and plunged his tongue between her lips.
It was easy, then, too easy, to wrap her legs around his waist and squeeze, keeping her there, hands fisted into his shirt. This wasn't love, don't mistake that. This was ... not that. She bit down on his lower lip, stopping short of breaking the skin, and she arched her back, feeling her nipples harden and the tingle of rubbing them against his chest.
He had her pinned to the wall. How that happened? Fuck if he knew. Derek had a strong large hand sliding under her shirt, over her breasts, cupping and then squeezing while he groaned even louder before finally releasing the brutal kiss. His mouth didn't stop moving though, kissing and nipping the side of her neck, down her throat.
It was as if the air was heavier here. Sarah had to work harder to breathe. Derek's hand felt like sandpaper, felt like something too hard, more used to handling guns than people. Weren't they all like that, though? Even John.
Don't think about John. Over his shoulder, Sarah pulled at Derek's shirt. It needed to come off.
He pressed his hips down harder, holding Sarah up by sheer force of will. Derek was quick to release his mouth on her skin and then he pulled his shirt off and fast before grabbing the hem of hers and tugging that off.
She had a bra on, thin and flimsy and that he fumbled to take off, giving up and just pulling the straps down her arms, uncovering one breast before he took the nipple in his mouth, groaning as he flicked his tongue over a very firm nipple. Fuck. He should stop. But goddamn it, he didn't want to.
She was so wet. It was almost embarrassing how wet she was. She could feel him through two sets of jeans and she shuddered, hard. His mouth was like fire and she groaned, head back against the wall. This was no time for thinking at all.
With a shove, she dropped to her feet again to reach for his fly, rough, utilitarian, pulling the button free and the zipper down, shoving the denim away to palm over him almost roughly. Now, before she realized what she was doing.
It was nothing but harsh breaths and impatient growls with hands deft at removing clothes, tugging, yanking, push-pulling. Derek had kicked off his jeans, groaning at the small but hot hand on his cock, his hips rocking into it. He had his hand back on her breast, pushing her back up against the wall, teeth biting down on her shoulder before Derek's lips made their way back down to her breast. "Fuck!" Now his other hand slipped inside her panties, fingers getting wet because she was god damned soaking that it was only too easy to push a finger inside her, pumping it slow.
"Ah." It was a refusal of the invasion and a plea for more. She was bent back and rucked a leg up his hip. It was almost too much, too rough and already she was close to coming, scratching a trail up his back, taking his skin with her as she threw her head back.
Derek hissed. That fucking hurt. "Goddamn it!" Pumping his hand up and down even faster, each upthrust pushed the heel of his palm on her clit and Derek pulled back, looking at Sarah's face. She was going to fucking come and he could feel it. "Come on!" He growled, griding his hips against her thigh, pushing his cock in her hand.
She wanted to call him every name she'd ever learned in the jungles, in Mexico, in the asylum. She wanted to hiss and spit at him.
Instead, she felt her body give, felt that vicious pleasure she hadn't known since Charley eat her up and spit her out, leaving her whimpering like someone who was weak and wanting.
They were both fucking weak and wanting. Derek was not faring any better. Growling at the way she clenched around his fingers. Wanting. Needing. This was all this was. A need. Fuck! Sarah looked amazing when she came and that only made Derek want her even more.
...Fuck it.
He pulled his fingers out, grabbed the crotch of her panties and yanked, hard, the rip of material heard and then Derek tossed it to the floor. With one arm around her waist he heaved her up, a hand around his dick and then Derek pushed inside her, then shoved her up against the wall. Her back slammed against it from the force of that first thrust, growling as his cock was engulfed in hot and wet and need.
Sarah cried out again, finger with short, blunt nails digging into Derek's neck, the cords there, hard enough to leave crescent moon shaped-bruises that would linger for two days after, hidden by a jacket collar. It felt like she was rent open; it had been a long time.
Derek's hips pistoned, hands on her waist, hard enough to leave bruises, as he pushed her down each time he thrust up. It was skin slapping on skin, slick, because fuck! Sarah was too fucking wet, too tight that Derek had to grunt to push through the clench. He wasn't thinking of what this meant, of how fucking awkward it was going to be after. All he knew was that he needed this. Her. They both needed it.
All of it sent Sarah's mind spinning, and she couldn't catch her breath. She was lost. She was a mass of nerve endings, she was everything and nothing. "Derek," she gasped out, clinging to him. "Derek."
Derek...
Damn fucking straight! He growled even louder, moved even faster, pushing deep and trembling. "Fuck!" Derek hooked his hand on her shoulders, arm across her back, pulling her off from the wall and pushing aside all the fucking crap on the table near them.
Things fell with a THUD and a CRASH just as Derek laid her down, laid her out for him. With a hand behind her knee he parted her thighs, large hand splayed on her belly while his thumb grated rough and fast against her clit. He slammed into her over and over and over until he was panting so hard that he could hardly breathe.
Each thrust jarred her. She could feel the wood biting into her back and the the nearly-too-much pain of the way he was fucking her. That's what it was. Fucking. Nothing more and nothing less. She was close to coming again already, balling in her stomach, making her roll up some, but not close her eyes. She wanted to see.
Goddamnedmotherfucker, he was close. Fucking close. He rubbed and pressed against her clit, eyes demanding her to fucking, "Come! Do it! For me!" For him. Him. Derek.
He pounded into her. Hard, deep, fast. Derek's jaw clenched and then he shuddered, grunting climax looming close, hips pumping.
Derek was a bastard. Sarah knew this. She was a bitch. Maybe that was what they had in common. She wanted to not come just to spite him, but her body betrayed her and Sarah bit back her cry as she bucked up, then back down against the table, muscles clenching around his cock. "You now," she hissed out. "Now you."
He rode her through the tight clench, his cock wrapped in a vice that Derek's head fell back and he growled toward the ceiling. The fucking table was rattling, legs squeaking, pushed forward at the force of his thrusts with Derek not stopping until his dick stopped pulsing inside her. He was blowing hot air out, taking shaky ones in, chest heaving and still with his length inside her. Derek stared. He didn't care about what they just did. Only that it was a need met and then Derek combed his fingers through her hair, fisting, pulling her up by it and then dipping down; the kiss he gave her just as brutal as their fucking.
The sting to her scalp was sharp and kept her focused and her nails scraped from his neck to his shoulders as she sucked on her tongue before falling back to the table and pushing him off of her, out of her and she rolled to her side before pushing herself to stand. Almost immediately, his come started dripping out of her and she hated it. She hated herself for being weak, for her body for responding so strongly. She hated Derek for being Kyle's brother, but not Kyle. She hated the village.
She reached for her clothes. She needed to go before John got back from work. As she started to dress, she could hardly look over at him.
Derek watched her for a moment, waiting for some smart ass, bitchy comment that didn't come. Huh. Not yet. He grabbed his shirt from the floor, wiping his cock down still slick with his come and her juices. He tossed that back to the floor. Derek then tugged his jeans back on, zipped it up and leaving the button undone. He faced Sarah then. What would he say? Nothing, really. It happened. That was it. Couldn't change that. Derek licked his lips; he could still taste her.
Sarah, however, was looking at the floor, the wall, anywhere but Derek. "John can't know."
That was all she said, then she headed toward the door.
Derek hissed softly as he moved, feeling the stretch of skin from the raised welts of her scratches on his back and his neck, sharp stinging from those that broke skin. With his lips pressed together, Derek gave Sarah a curt nod even if she couldn't see it. He wouldn't offer the information to John but if the boy found out, he found out. They were adults, there was a need. Do the math.
Outside the door, Sarah stopped, just for a moment, her hand on the knob. She could say something, could do... something. But what? Nothing. Shaking her head just a little, she headed for her room and the shower, trying not to think of what just happened. Except that she could remember everything.