Blatantly stolen.

[the_impala_kid]

Request kisses from Dean! If you'd like a kiss from Dean, just comment here and let us know. He'll reply to your comment with a drabble of sorts that involves the kiss, or put up a thread to get that kiss on its way. Or if you'd like a bit more control over the situation just start your own post and mark the entry locked to Dean and leave me a

Comments

[the_impala_kid]

"Oh, fuck," he moans, head falling back, eyes closed. He bites his lip as she moves, matching his rhythm to hers, fingernails biting into her hips, and he opens his eyes and there she is, her breath hot on his cheek, and he turns his head and kisses her -- her lips, her chin, her neck, his free hand moving up to clutch at her back, murmuring into her hair, her skin, her mouth, God, of fuck -- oh God, oh fuck, until it becomes a mantra -- he's licking a stripe up her collar bone and oh God, oh fuck, he's moving his fingers on her faster now, rougher to match the rhythm and oh God, oh fuck, and he's kissing her again, and he's holding back, not ready yet for it to be over, because over means gone and this is it, the last sex of his life he's pretty sure, and god if the universe didn't save him a good one for the end of all things, almost makes a man believe in angels, and he's not ready, to let go of her and to let go of life, and he almost whimpers as he feels the life of her, the strength of her pulse like electricity and it's almost more than he can take and keep breathing.

"Faith," he moans, "I'm close, Baby, are you -- you --"

[faiththatfuelsu]

It's not possible, but she swears he fucks like he knows the world is going to end and this is the last time she's ever going to feel this. She's riding him with all she's got, pulling up and clenching before sinking back down on him.

She's close when he speaks, his words the final push she needs before she's cumming again. "God, Dean. Fucking-- God."

[the_impala_kid]

He comes then, he body locked on his, and he bites clean through his lips as it rocks him, and he's clinging to her like he's drowning as he's falling through his orgasm, and it's the best one of his life -- fucking like the world was ending, and how she knew that was what he needed he had no idea, but he kissed her, gently, his lips swollen and cut just a bit, kissed her like it wasn't ending, kissed her for a moment like there was all the time in the world and it hurt, even as his body was still trembling, bits of him still shaking, and he held her for a moment and just kissed her as though it wasn't all gonna end.

But it was just a moment, and he knew it -- let go a little, not enough to make her think it was time to leave, but enough so that he knew it was going to be soon, and he pulled back, rested his forehead against her shoulder, and laughed (albeit weakly)

"Damn, girl."

[faiththatfuelsu]

She's shaking and she can't explain it, body wracked with fine tremors, and something nagging at the back of her mind. She tries to push it all down, get control, and she's failing miserably.

He's holding her, bodies still joined, and she wants to run. The thought is invading her mind and the shaking intensifies. It isn't fair, because this? This could be something. Doesn't know how she knows, but she does. While every one of her instincts is screaming at her to get dressed and get out, she fights them all back. She kisses him instead, the faint coppery taste of blood and him working to calm her down.

"You weren't too bad yourself, killer."

[the_impala_kid]

He gives her his best, most winning smile, even though it feels a little bit off to him, like he wants to touch his face to make sure that he put it on right. "Bottle of whiskey's under the jacket to your left, babe, on the floor. I'm -- kind of pinned down at the moment." He's still got a hand between them, and he gives her one last, teasing stroke before sliding it free.

[faiththatfuelsu]

She was expecting a brush off, a 'Had a great time, I'll call you' or 'Thanks for the ride.' Whiskey wasn't anywhere in any of those. "Yeah, sure thing."

She grabs both the jacket and bottle before settling herself in the seat next to him, taking a swig, and wrapping herself in the material. She doesn't remember him wearing it inside, but she'd been a little pre-occupied at the time, and is just thankful she doesn't have to fight with her own clothes just yet.

[the_impala_kid]

The sight of her in his jacket is nearly enough to get him going again, but even if his spirit was willing the body needed more than a two minute turn around time -- especially after a fuck like that one. She's smaller than she seems, then she acts, and there's a confidence in her body language that he recognizes as his own. It's one that says she knows ever inch of her body and what it can do, has put that to the test before.

He takes the bottle from her and takes a long pull, his sore lip burning viciously. He swallows and hands it back to her, resting one hand almost absently on her thigh, laughing as he looks down at his pants.

"Hell, Faith," he says, shaking his head. "If they had to finally go this was a fuck of a way to do it, but damn. I think I'm down now to one pair of jeans left that aren't so holed-up as to be illegal. I look like Britney Spear's former stylist." He gives her a grin as he tugs at what used to be the front of his jeans and a bit of denim comes free. He holds it out to her, still laughing.

"Want a piece of 'em as a souvenir?"

[faiththatfuelsu]

"Can't I just have the car?" She laughs as she runs a hand along the seat, admiring the pristine condition. "Sorry about the pants, patience has never been a virtue."

She's ready to sleep for a week after this, but she can't stop staring at him. He's completely comfortable in his own skin, and... scars. They are varied and numerous, even if most of them are only a few months old. What the hell? Her eyes narrow and she sits up straighter. "Interesting scars you got goin' there."

[the_impala_kid]

He tenses a bit, shifting almost unconsciously into a position where he's got an angle for leverage. There's something in her tone that's thrown his wind up -- it's not a statement so much as an assessment, cold and detatched --professional.

"Yeah," he says, voice carefully neutral, "I've, you know -- been around."

[faiththatfuelsu]

She's cursing herself for her stupidity. There's no way anything that just happened was natural, not with the things she was feeling. His posture's changed from relaxed to ready and she knows. This was a fucking trap, and she walked right into it.

Subtly trying to locate her clothes and search for a possible weapon wassn't easy, her best option would be the whiskey bottle he was currently holding. She doesn't even know what he might be capable of. Magic maybe? It would explain her reaction to the taste of blood. Blood magic was one of the stronger magicks in existence. Running was starting to seem like a good idea again, and she shifted towards the door handle.

[the_impala_kid]

He sees the shift -- when she goes from relaxed and happy to ready, and he knows for sure then that something's up. When she reaches out he doesn't know what she's reaching for, but if she's here on their behalf, then she's done for.

"Fuck," he spat, and fast on it's heels, even as he's weighting the whiskey bottle, "Cristo."

[faiththatfuelsu]

She freezes immediately as two things become painfully obvious- 1. She's fucked up, big time and 2. He thinks she's evil. Laughing serves to deflate the tension that's risen in her body and she re-asses him. "You think I'm a demon?"

[the_impala_kid]

He has to admit that he's surprised by her reaction. Still not quite ready to put the bottle down, but at least past getting ready to use it as a bludgeon, he shrugs, trying to get his sauve back into place, although he's viciously confused as to what's going on.

"Well, not anymore."

[faiththatfuelsu]

She's relaxing slightly, even if he still looks like he's ready for her to pull something. Putting her hands out in a placating manner she attempts to clear everything up. "Far from a demon, handsome. I'm a Slayer, even though I'm not 100% on where you fit in. You don't look like any Watcher I've ever met, and you probably would've known who the hell I was if you were."

[the_impala_kid]

"Bullshit," he says simply. "Ain't no such thing. Slayers're a myth Hunters tell their kiddies." His eyes narrow again. "What's your angle, here, sweetheart?"

[faiththatfuelsu]

"Sure they are. Girls that look like me can just rip a pair of jeans no problem, all the time, right? And say Christo, and oh yeah, thinking the sex took out the shapeshifter guess if that's what you were going for next." She's rolling her eyes and it's a shame. He's pretty, but a little slow on the uptake.