Chapter Thirteen

There were moments when Sam Winchester wondered if his whole life was a punch line to a joke no one had told him.

He stared through the window of the Impala at the home belonging to one William Scheckly, owner of the Antiquities Store and wondered what game Fate choosing was playing on him now. William Scheckly’s house, with the large tree in the front yard and the fire damage concealed by years of renovation was the same house that where Mary Winchester had burned alive thirty years ago. It was the same house that four year old Dean had run out of carrying him, the same one where the Yellow Eyed Demon, later known as Azazel, had given Sam his first taste of demon blood.

“Dean’s just gonna love this,” Sam muttered his breath, his eyes fixed on the house in front of him. Lights were glowing through the windows, an indicator to all comers that Scheckly was at home. The question to be answered now was whether or not Buffy and Dean were in there too.

Once he’d discovered the cube was gone, Sam and Faith had found the office located at the rear or the store and then proceeded to go through it in search of clues to its origins before they went after the thing again. While there was no record of where the cube had come from, Sam was able to conduct some research on the net later and learn something about its owner and where he now lived. It didn’t take Sam to recognise that the cube’s owner might be as much of a mystery as the object itself.

Until nine years ago, William Scheckly had no history.

There was no record of where he’d been born, of his parents or how he’d manage to live. The first official record of his existence was an employment record at Wal-Mart in Southern California. Following that, he’d worked at a number of jobs, usually at antique stores or more exotically in occult and Wiccan supply stores. He never stayed long in town and moved from San Diego, San Bernardino and then Los Angeles. After Los Angeles, Scheckly had moved further inland.

He’s settled in Lawrence only recently, opening the Antiquities Store in the newly vacated space at the mall and bought himself a house. Even though it could be purely coincidence that he had chosen that particular house to occupy, Sam was not that optimistic. Eight years ago, Missouri Moseley had claimed that the home's dark past attracted supernatural elements to it. Even though they'd cleansed it of the spirits that resided there, including that of Mary Winchester, there was no guarantee that evil wouldn’t gravitate to the place anyway.

If Scheckly’s cube was responsible for the deaths of Warren Benson and Bob Sherman, then it would appear the house still possessed enough malevolent energy to draw similar entities to it.

Sam wondered what had happed to the family who resided at the house when he and Dean had last visited. Jenny and her two children had been trying to make a new start only to find their home haunted. Had it been too strange living in a house that had almost killed her and her family? Sam couldn’t blame the woman if she’d opted to sell up and move elsewhere and made a mental note to put a call to Missouri and find out for sure when this was over.

“We just going to sit in here Sammy?” Faith finally spoke, disrupting the flow of his reflective thoughts.

Faith stared at the younger Winchester, watching him think his broody thoughts about his home and what had gone down there. When he’d first revealed the history of Scheckly’s new home, Faith had been more than ready to volunteer that let her do the heavy lifting on this one. After all, there was no reason for Sam to reopen old wounds by coming with her. However, the hunter was stubborn and insistent and while Faith considered convincing him with a right hook, she realised she had no right to dissuade him when it was so personal.

Besides, she admired the stones on him for daring to revisit his family home after his mom had gotten toasted there by a demon.

“No we’re going in,” Sam stated firmly, glancing at her briefly before he reached for the car door to get out. “It’s just that Dean and I haven’t been year in eight years. If this is where Scheckly had brought him and Buffy, he’s going to be really pissed when he gets free. We thought we'd cleansed the house the last time we were here, there was a poltergeist haunting," he explained. "We hoped that people could live it in again but it just looks like some evil bastard is always going to be drawn to it.”

Faith merely nodded in understanding as she climbed out of the car and looked at him from across the roof of the car. She wanted to offer some words of sympathy but she just never did sympathy well. Still, Faith had her fair share of tragedy and she understood his bitterness. It was never going back to the places in one's past and learning that time didn't heal all wounds and some would never be redeemed no matter how much one tried to make it otherwise.

Finally she opted for something that wasn't quite sympathy but showed she got what he was saying. "So let's go get this asshole and rattle him hard until he shakes off B and your bro."

Her words might appear blasé but her eyes spoke volumes. Sam was rather touched by the layer she'd just shown him that was contrary to the flirty, casual vibe she gave out. "Thanks," he replied genuinely grateful and then decided to dispel any awkwardness by moving onto business and laying down some ground rules. Faith's interrogation methods screamed 'break first, questions later' and Sam knew enough to know that never worked...well not all the time.

"I say we try and talk to him first," Sam suggested as they crossed the road to the side walk running past the house. "He still thinks I’m FBI so I can get through the door. You sneak in through the back while I keep him busy and see if you can’t look around. I know this house, there’s not a lot of places he could he hide them. If he really doesn’t know anything about the cube, then he might have sold it to someone who does."

Faith was shaking her head even before he got the words out. "My Spidey sense is telling me he’s our guy but we’ll play it your way just to be sure. I’ll do recon and you can decide if he's giving us the run around or not." Faith replied, agreeing namely because she'd had this argument so many times before with Buffy after going in smart, instead of head first without real information.

As much as he might want to give the man the benefit of the doubt, Sam suspected that Faith was right; this guy knew exactly where Buffy and Dean had gone. However, before they resorted to torturing a human, Sam wanted to ensure they'd tried to reason with him first. "Thanks," he said appreciating her restraint on his behalf.

Faith gestured at Sam that he should try the front door first, while she covered the back. He nodded in agreement to her plan and Faith cut across the lawn, making for the fence while ensuring there was no movement at the curtains that would give her stealth approach away. Leaving Sam behind she had to admit, he was nothing like she'd imagined.

When Giles had asked her to back up B, Faith had been reluctant. While they're relationship was never as close as the kind Buffy shared with Willow, she and Faith had reached a kind of friendship based on mutual respect and understanding of each other's 'slayerness'. It felt like questioning B's ability to handle herself by checking up on her and Faith didn't want to provoke any enmity that might damage their carefully constructed friendship.

Still, Giles had made some good points. Buffy had been retired for three years, she was teaming up with 'hunters', a previously unknown element in their battle against supernatural creatures and even more alarming, there was every indicating that Buffy was romantically involved in at least one of them. After Angel, Buffy's ability to pick the wrong guy was infamous and Faith had decided it couldn’t hurt to just drop by and check the guy out.

What she hadn't expected to find that Buffy's guy had a baby brother who reminded Faith a hell of a lot of Angel.

Faith had loved Angel, not in the way Buffy loved him obviously, but she loved him nonetheless. He was her friend and mentor, the only person who dared to look past her crap to see how lonely and frightened she was. In the midst of her despair, when she had hit the very rock bottom of her entire existence, the vampire with a soul had shown Faith how to restore her own. Everything she'd become since then, she owed to him. When Faith had learned he died in Los Angeles, she had wept openly for not being there for him and not telling him what he meant to her even though Angel would be the first to tell her he already knew.

Sam Winchester, with his brooding, unassuming and somewhat straight-laced manner, reminded her of Angel. He bore the same moral core, the same empathy for people and she suspected by the way he clammed up at times, that there was something in his past he was trying to overcome, something that needed redemption. Faith who had made all the wrong choices until it had led her to the very brink of disaster could relate.

*****

While Sam was willing to try the reasoned approach, he wasn’t above beating it out of the man necessary. Nor was he complacent with the fact that Scheckly may not be a man at all. There had been too many times when a monster had worn a human face and this one was no exception. The lack of history for the man prior to nine years ago, certainly meant that Scheckly had gone to great lengths to hide his past or didn’t have one at all.

Life as a Winchester had taught Sam to never take anyone at face value. Ruby had taught him that to lasting effect.

Coming up to the front door, he heard voices and guessed it was a television screen by the flickering of light through the windows. Sam reached for the fake badge in his jacket, buttoning it up to hide the sawn off shot gun and the blades strapped to his arm and his leg.

William Scheckly opened the door and took Sam’s presence at his doorstep with little surprise. If anything, Sam almost felt he was expected.

“Agent Sambora isn’t it?” The man asked politely.

“Yes that’s right,” Sam replied promptly, playing the part of the G-man with appropriate authority, “I’m sorry to bother you at your home but we’ve had a break in the case and I think you may be able help us. May we talk inside?”

“Of course,” Scheckly answered amiably and retreated into the house. Whether or not he bought the excuse, Sam could not say however Scheckly did not hesitate to open his home to Sam as he waited for the supposed FBI agent to step through the doorway.

Sam followed Scheckly in the parlour, trying not to appear obvious as he scanned the rooms on route. The house remained very much the same as when he and Dean were last there eight year ago. There was notable differences in decor since the place was previously occupied by a woman with children and was now home to a middle-aged bachelor. Bright, pastel colours had been replaced with comfortable, earthy tones kept the place as homely as before.

Once inside the parlour, Scheckly immediately muted the volume on the television set now that he had a guest.

"Please sit down,"' he gestured to a comfortable brown leather arm chair in the corner of the room, a companion piece to the lounge that he lowered himself into as he waited for Sam to settle himself.

"You had a break, you say?" Scheckly asked.

"Yes," Sam answered with a nod, conscious that Faith was at this moment, sneaking into the place through some alternate means. "It appears that all the victims might have handled an object in your store. I wonder if it’s still in stock or has it been sold?"

"Really?" Scheckly showed no signs of anxiety. "Which object would this be? As you can imagine, I have quite the collection.” There was no bragging in his tone, just a statement of fact.

"It’s a puzzle cube," Sam replied automatically, watching Scheckly closely for any reaction. "I saw it there myself yesterday. It opens up to show a dancing figure but the mechanism that makes the music is damaged."

"Yes it’s curious isn't it?" Scheckly smiled baring impossibly white teeth and a grin wide enough to split his face in half and made Sam think of a Batman villain just looking at him. "The music is only heard when a sacrifice is required and then the doorway to the other world appears." Then he added quickly before Sam asked more questions, "So I was told by the merchant I bought it from."

Sam didn't think that there was another merchant and the mention of sacrifices and the other world sent a chill down his spine as to what fate might be intended for Buffy and Deana and what was this talk about another world? Exactly where had Dean and Buffy gone? "Other world?" He asked calmly, betraying nothing.

“The Razor Realm," Scheckly explained, understanding now that this boy was no FBI agent but played along with the charade for the moment. "There is no greater conjurer of fear and degradation than the human animal. In the waking world our base desires, the most succulent of our primate needs and violent pleasures are trapped by convention of propriety and supposed civilised behaviours. Only when we sleep are we truly free to be the animal, freed of all inhibition, freed of our fears. Every terrible thing we imagine is given life in our dreams and once life is given, it cannot be taken away. The Lord of the Razor Realm knows this and so he bring them to him, he gives them a home. All fears lead to him and that that is the power of the Razor Realm.”

"He takes nightmares?" Sam swallowed, not liking what this meant one damn bit. “Which ones?"

Scheckly flashed Sam that same malevolent grin and then answered, “Why all of them of course."

******

Author’s Note – this section is VERY NC-17, proceed at your peril :)

Buffy didn’t know how Dean managed it.

It felt like they’d been doing this for days even though they had been trapped in this strange place for only a few hours. Their bodies seemed to be in a state of limbo as they felt neither hungry nor thirsty, despite the fact that it had been hours since either of them had been given nourishment. The only constant in this place had been the monsters that emerged at regular intervals for them to fight. Freakish little girls, ghouls, vampires, creatures so bizarre that no name could be put to them, had appeared out of the wall since their arrival, attempting to kill them.

Buffy’s own slayer endurance was starting to feel the strain and she was frankly quite astonished at how Dean was still on his feet. Earlier she had accused him of enjoying this nightmare however, she had time to change her mind on that belief. It wasn’t that he enjoyed it; it was more that he was born to it. Dean seemed in his element in a way Buffy had never felt, even as the Slayer. Hunting as he called it was what he did best and as she saw him fight, without any special abilities, taking blows and then delivering them, she had to admit he was as capable of any slayer or vampire she had fought alongside of.

Their latest enemy had been horrifying creatures that looked like something out of HR Geiger’s mind. Tentacles, sharp teeth and phallic looking appendages that made her skin crawl even as she hacked them to bits and pieces. She and Dean had developed a kind of rapport fighting and they watched each other’s back. He’d used their makeshift blades to fight even though he had a gun but he’d said he wanted to save those for something they truly couldn’t handle and while Buffy didn’t want to know what that was, she understood the reasoning.

Dean brought down the blade across the elongated head of the creature. He’d only managed to get the drop on it after hacking off part of its leg, beneath the joint of what appeared to be its knee cap. The creature screeched, its eyeless head swivelling in Dean’s direction, splattering green, slime across his shirt as the blade tore through its grey flesh. The head slid to the ground like a piece of sliced fruit, hitting the dark floor with a loud sickly splat. Dean’s eyes lifted to Buffy’s once the monster was dead, reassuring himself that she was alright.

Buffy’s arm was bleeding, one of the creature’s deadly claws having ripped through her blouse and across her bicep. The blood had soaked through her white shirt but the pain was already starting to fade. Even though he knew she healed fast, he didn’t like the idea of seeing her hurt. Dean had become accustomed to her resiliency, relying on it because that meant she could take care of herself.

“Hey you okay…” he started to say when Buffy rushed at him.

“Catch me!” Buffy shouted and jumped at him. Dean caught her under the arms but Buffy had twisted her body so that her feet had landed on the wall. Holding on to him, Buffy used the support he provided to run along the wall so that she could swing herself at the creature that had suddenly appeared out of nowhere to ambush Dean from behind. Her booted feet slammed into the side of the monster's head, dislodging it from the wall and propelled it to the ground in tangle of limbs and tail.

Dean realised what she was doing and kept a firm grip of her beneath the arms, flipping her across his back when she'd delivered her blow and then swung her around him like they were doing an old fashioned jitterbug from the 40's. Fred and Ginger, eat your fucking heart out, Dean thought with a grin as she landed smoothly in his arms again while hers were coiled around his neck. It was hot as hell and as Dean saw the darkened blue of her eyes, he guessed she thought so too.

The creature, shaking its head to dispel its disorientation, scrambled to its feet and lunged at them. Acting on pure instinct and unaware that they were acting as one, Dean and Buffy flashed their blades at the same time. He flung his weapon at the thing, the sword/blade striking the creature in the middle of its misshapen skull, while Buffy slashed it open in mid-thorax. It approached no further than that, collapsing in a dead heap less than two feet away from them, green blood and viscera spurting out from multiple wounds.

Neither Buffy nor Dean spoke for a few moments as they clung to each other, breathing hard and staring at the grisly aftermath of this latest melee. Both were still panting, the adrenaline rush of the battle had yet to subside in either one of them. As they looked at each other, Buffy could feel the familiar surge of primitive lust that overtook her once she had finished the kill. Unlike Faith, she'd always had a handle on her ability to maintain control but in this place, when they were two warriors fighting for survival with nothing but each other to rely on, it was impossible to dispel.

Whether or not, Dean knew what was in her mind, Buffy could not say but without warning, though not unwelcomed, he pulled her forward suddenly to capture her mouth in a brutal but passionate kiss. It was nothing like the tender, feathered exchange in her backyard. This was raw, hungry and so consuming that she had no defence against it. Swept away by the ferocious tide of his desire, Buffy felt her head swim, the neurons in her brain misfiring as she tried to regain control but Dean was having none of it. He was a force of nature and she was firmly in his grip.

He didn't know what he had been thinking when he kissed her, knowing only that he had to. This place unleashed him in a way he hadn't felt since returning from Purgatory. Dean knew he was riding the high that came from being able to kill every evil son of a bitch they threw at him. He was in his element here, revelling in the knowledge that he was finally doing what he was best at, what the last thirty years had moulded him into; the best goddamn hunter there was.

Riding that euphoria, Dean plundered Buffy's mouth, ignoring her surprise and her momentary hesitation because he knew she wanted him as much as he wanted her. They were kindred spirits the both of them, warriors on the battlefield who could find solace with each other in the eye of the storm. He wanted her to know that, wanted her to understand that he had her back, that all she had to do was call and he'd be there. Whether or not she realised it yet, Dean was her creature. After this, how could he be anything else?

Dean always thought his place was looking after Sam but Sam had made it clear in the last year that the feeling wasn't mutual, that someday he wanted a life that was far removed from the one they shared now. Dean hadn't understood why at first but eventually he remembered that he'd once wanted a normal life for Sam too. The years of crap they'd endured since made him forget. Maybe now that he'd found Buffy, it was okay to let Sammy go. The realisation was a watershed moment and Dean let the emotion of it pour into his demanding exploration of her mouth.

His tongue duelled wetly with hers as they conducted a sensuous struggle for dominance he intended to win. Dean hadn't realised he'd backed her into the wall, giving her no place to escape as his lips continued its plunder, his body pressing so hard against hers, he could feel her heart pounding against his. When she groaned into his mouth, it was a sound of such complete surrender, he shuddered at how quickly it travelled from his ears to his cock.

"Oh God," Buffy whimpered when she felt the growing hardness pressing into her belly. The sensation generated a corresponding surge of desire that liquefied her insides, making her want him even more. The vivid imagery of what he planned on doing with that erection made her wet just imagining it. Somewhere in the midst of her scrambled thoughts, she questioned what they were doing. This was insane, she told herself. Monsters could jump out at them at any time. And yet even as the thought crossed her mind, Buffy was pulling at his shirt, wanting to feel his skin under her palms.

Dean became vaguely aware of his shirt buttons popping free and glanced down to see them skittering away from his feet when they hit the floor. He raised his eyes to hers and saw the smouldering need in them. Curling his lips into a teasing smirk, Dean did the same to her shirt. He thought she might protest when he parted the soiled fabric of her shirt, leaving only the scrap of a lacy bra between him and her bare flesh however, Buffy did nothing of the kind.

Instead, she lowered her head to his neck and began plying it with soft, uncertain bites and kisses, introducing him to the sweet ecstasy of pleasure and pain. Dean let his head drop back, enjoying the sensation of her lips against his flesh. Still the way she touched him made Dean wonder how long it had been for her.

"Christ Counsellor," Dean uttered a grunt that was part impatience, part frustration. Unhooking her bra in the front, the soft lace fell away to reveal perfectly, round, tanned breasts with nipples so taut with arousal, they jutted impatiently for his touch. His mouth near watered at the sight of them, sending him into a lust so black, he was barely aware of that he was injured. Sliding his hand hands beneath her gloriously firm ass, Dean lifted her up, bracing her back against the wall. Buffy reacted instinctively, her legs coiling around his waist while her arms encircled his neck.

“This is crazy…” she launched a meek protest as she looked down at him, her lips swollen from his kisses, her hair mussed up and her shirt splayed open for all to see. “We shouldn’t be doing this….”

However, Dean didn’t give her a chance to finish the sentence because his mouth enclosed a pert nipple began suckling insistently. Her reaction was sharp immediate. He felt her back bending like a bow, pushing more of herself past his lips. He swirled his tongue, teasing the tip while she whimpered and squirmed, crying out his name in abandon.

God, she was so fucking hot, he didn’t think he’d ever tasted anything sweeter.

“Oh Dean….” She mewled, her mind overloading from sensation. There was nothing else she could do as she felt his tongue suck and tease her. Buffy’s fingers ran through his hair mindlessly, wondering if this felt so good because of the danger. She could feel slick damp between her legs as he nursed on her, the heat he had to be feeling against him.

Dean didn’t respond to her voice so hungry with need, continuing instead to ravish her breasts until he left red marks against her skin. He was so hard he could barely think and the warmth he could feel between her legs provoked a hunger in him so fierce he could barely control it. Each time she whimpered, each time she said his name like that, it was all he could do to keep from bending her over and taking her there and then.

Lowering her to the ground, Dean pulled away reluctantly from her chest and reclaimed her lips, plying her mouth with the hard, demanding kisses. He pulled away for a moment, caressing her chin as he lowered his gaze to her anxious eyes and saw that as much as she wanted him, he also saw hesitation and fear. Wanting to erase that look from her face more than his next breath, Dean lowered, his lips trailing damp kisses down her belly.

Raising his eyes to hers, his expression was soft and tender as he spoke to her in a tone one would use to an frightened colt, “You don’t have to be afraid Counsellor,” he promised sincerely, “I’ll never hurt you like he did.”

Buffy’s breath hitched as she heard those words, her eyes moistening because at that instant, she realised this wasn’t just about lust for him. She watched tantalized while he unbuttoned her pants, rolled the fabric down her thighs, all the while licking her mound through the lacy fabric of her thong. Buffy closed her eyes, allowing herself to be swept away by the pleasure engendered by his expert touch, barely thinking as she shimmied out of her pants and kicking off her boots.

This is crazy, she told herself again as she stood before him, shirt opened, breasts exposed, wearing only a thong while the rest of her clothes were pooled at her feet. This was how people got killed. And yet when looked down at him and was greeted by a predatory smile of cocky assurance, she knew she was never going to be able to resist him.

“I’m going make you feel so good Counsellor…” Dean breathed just before he lifted her leg over his shoulder and pulled aside her thong to lean in for a long, deep lick from crack to clit.

She was crying out his name before he’d even gotten halfway there. The burst of pleasure was so sharp that Buffy almost screamed. It had been so long since she’d been treated to such oral ministrations that her mind overloaded from exquisite sensations. Not that he was about to let her catch her breath because his tongue was soon swirling around her clit, washing the tiny pearl with the broad side of his tongue as his lips massaged her outer folds.

“Dean…oh God…Dean…” she whimpered completely undone, hating that she sounded so needy because she was sure he was loving every breathy plea but unable to bear him stopping either. The stubble on his chin was creating a delicious friction against her flesh and Buffy was begging him not to stop as she pulled him closer.

Dean paused long enough to produce a satisfied grin before he returned to the work at hand or rather mouth. Spreading her apart with his fingers he began fucking her with his tongue, thrusting up the same taut, slick passageway his cock would soon take. After seeing her fight, seeing the power she exuded when she took on monsters that defied reason, knowing that he could reduce her to this was a fucking high that had no comparison.

Dean wanted her to make Buffy come, wanted to hear his name as she did it, wanted to satisfy some misogynistic fantasy of dominance but most of all, he wanted to make her feel that sex didn’t always lead to heartache. It surprised him how much Dean wanted that more than anything.

“Yeah baby,” Dean answered her as he pulled away and inserted two fingers into slick, wet passage, pumping furiously while massaging her clit with his thumb. “You like that don’t you? Like me tasting you.”

And just to drive home his raunchy words, Buffy saw through half lidded eyes, him removing his thumb to tease her clit between his teeth once again. He continued his oral assault until her body was quaking with the coming of an orgasm so splendid, it might shatter her into a thousand pieces.

“Yes Dean,” she begged, “yes, please, don’t stop…” he words were becoming gibberish and all she cared was what that beautiful mouth was doing to her. She hadn’t felt this good in so long, hadn’t remembered how it felt to be so unfettered and attune to another human being. It seemed like he knew just the right thing to make her come.

And she did, wonderfully, sinfully and without any ability to control it. Buffy threw her head back and came with a scream of pleasure so sharp, she rode his mouth as he drank her like he was draining her of her soul. The orgasm was so blinding, so intense that she almost saw stars. He was so good , she thought disjointedly, he was so fucking good.

Then before she had time to come down, Dean was on his feet, taking her by the hips and spinning her around, flattening her chest against the wall. She felt her cheek scrape against the hard brick and there was a moment of clarity when she heard a zipper being pulled. It was the last sane thought she had before her spine stiffened and he drove himself all the way into her. For the second time that night, she cried out his name as she felt every exquisite inch of his cock driving into her body.

"Oh…fuck….” Dean groaned into her ear as he held onto her hips and drove his cock into her warm, wet, still clenching cunt. He buried himself to the balls, needing a moment to adjust as his brain temporarily lost all ability to think clearly because of how incredibly tight she was. Somewhere in the part of his mind that still had coherence, Dean hoped he hadn’t hurt her. However, she’d been so wet he’d been able to ride the slick of her orgasm straight to her core, until he could go no further.

“Oh Counsellor,” he breathed in that slow drawl into her ear as his thrusts started to pick up momentum. “You are so goddamn tight I could cry.” With that, he pushed in hard again, drawing out another whimper of surrender from her as he reached the end. Dean wrapped his arm around her waist as she braced herself against the wall with both hands. Buffy arched her back and stood on tip toes to accommodate him. His free hand latched onto a breast, teasing a nipple as he whispered in her ear, “Tell me what you want baby.”

Buffy knew what she wanted. She wanted him to move . He filled so completely, stretched her so beautifully she could almost cry and she did not want it to end, ever. This whole situation was still beyond her ability to process but him doing this to her was not, how he made her feel was also not . “Fuck me,” her voice breaking like the surf against the rocks. “I want you to fuck me.”

“Always give the lady what she wants,” Dean teased wearing a smug smile, her fevered demand a trophy he would savour for some time to come.

He started moving again, his strokes long and slow at first, making her feel every inch of him. Dean had to maintain his own control as her insides shuddered with post orgasmic flutters against his thick shaft. Each time he reached the end, he pushed up hard, ensuring his cockhead made contact with the delicious barrier that made her squeal his name like a fucking porn star. Hearing her gorgeous voice while he was fucking her was perhaps the biggest rush of all.

Buffy was rocking her hips to the rhythm he’d set, her head tossed back, her blond hair swaying across her as he continued to piston in and out of her moist depths. The grunts he made in her ear with each stroke told her that he was getting close and was as out of his mind as she was. This wasn’t love making, far from it. It was shameless animal fucking and Buffy was slave to it, slave to him who could make her feel this way. She could feel her insides clenching again, could feel the prelude to orgasm coming for her once more.

“Oh God Dean…I’m…I’m…” she couldn’t finish it because she couldn’t think any more, her body was too lost in the pleasure he was forcing her to endure. Instead, she turned her head towards him and Dean immediately covered Buffy’s lips in a sloppy open mouthed kiss that had no purpose but to drive this coupling to its glorious end.

Dean didn’t answer or rather couldn’t when he felt Buffy scream his name one last time before she came hard. Those delicious flutters along his shaft had become thousands of fingertips massaging his cock with exquisite pressure. Uttering a wordless cry, his control was gone and they reached completion together with Dean gripping Buffy’s hips tight as he emptied his seed into her warm depths. He felt no arrogance or triumph at taking her, just reverence at being able to worship at the altar of her flesh.

When they began to settle in post-orgasmic bliss, Dean leaned against her body and kissed the back of her neck tenderly before saying breathlessly, “I don’t care if we die here or not but that was so fucking worth it.”

TO BE CONTINUED