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Cursing heartily and brushing frantically at her stinging arm, Faith darts behind a headstone. She'd almost located the nest before these fucking amateurs arrived, shouting about zombies and waking every dead thing in the graveyard. Another shot booms out over her head, hitting the vamp closing on her from behind.
The vampire who now looks pissed off, but otherwise just fine.
She rolls backwards, popping up just enough to stake it as it's brushing white crystals off its chest. Salt? These idiots are shooting salt at vampires? And fuck! No wonder her shoulder stings where that idiot grazed her!
A shouted, "Dean!" echoes through the cemetery, loud, low and growly. Nice. Very nice. Shaking her head to clear it, Faith rocks back on her heels a little and peeks out over the top of her headstone to see what's going on.
One of the morons is on the ground with a vamp attached to his neck and a second vamp helping to hold him down. The remaining four vamps are all closing in on the taller guy as he frantically reloads his shotgun.
Pitching her voice loud so it will carry across the snarling of the vamps, she calls out, "Don't shoot the Calvary!" and emerges from her hiding place. His head swivels toward the sound of her voice, and one of the vamps takes the opportunity and charges him. Brilliant, Faith. Distract the moron and watch him die. Before she's even completed the thought though, the guy knocks the vamp back with a brutal uppercut and starts bringing his shotgun up into firing position.
"Hey idiot! Lose the boomstick! Can't you tell you're just pissing 'em off?" She throws a spare stake at the guy kinda hard, curious about his reflexes. "Use this!" He catches it effortlessly in his off hand, and stares at it stupidly for a heartbeat before raising his eyebrow at her.
She grabs the nearest vamp by the back of his jacket and spins him around. "Like this, you moron!" The vamp crumbles into dust as she pierces its heart. He drops his shotgun and brings her stake up and into the vamp closing on him, grinning fiercely as it dissolves around the weapon.
Faith's breath catches low in her gut. Damn that boy has a nice smile and a nice… Shaking it off again, she jumps the nearest vamp, instead of the guy. Later, she promises herself, after all the vamps are ready for the Dustbuster.
Her attention wavers a bit when he shouts, "Dean!" again, distracted by thoughts of the things she's gonna make that voice shout later tonight. The vamp sneaks in a brutal kick to her left kidney, and it takes her a moment to get the upper hand again, to flip the vamp onto its back and land with its neck between her thighs. Faith spares a glance for her idiot's progress, but can't find him immediately. She drives her stake in deeply as she scans the rest of the cemetery.
The last vamp from her group is off and running, already halfway across the cemetery before she finally locates her guy, leaning over his friend and coughing because he was too impatient to wait for the dust to clear before he moved in to stop the blood. She debates chasing the fleeing vamp and trying to salvage something from the night's stake-out, but it had quite a head start and the boy's jeans are all thin and worn, and there's a hole right below his left ass-cheek where she can see skin peaking out…
Faith sucks in a breath and tries to stomp down her usual post-slaying reaction long enough to figure out if the other guy's going to make it. "You boys on some kind of suicide tour?" she asks as she rounds the pair of them and crouches down to look at the guy's neck. Sexy-Voice doesn't even really look up at her, too busy trying to stop the blood flowing from his friend. She pulls a vial of Willow's fancy clotting dust out of her pocket and has it fizzing in the wound before the guy can stop her. His wounded friend stiffens and practically levitates off the ground, shouting, "What the FUCK?!?" at the top of his lungs.
Guess the Watchers haven't managed to get the sting out of that crap yet. At least it woke him up.
All the air rushes out of her lungs with a whoomph as the idiot lands on her, pushing her away from his friend. She lets him pin her to the ground, relaxing into the delicious bulk of him above her and resisting, for the moment anyway, the urge to squirm. She turns her head and looks back toward the injured man. He's sitting up now, glaring at her.
"Let her up, Sammy." Hmmm… not a bad voice on that one either, kinda gravelly and ill-used, though the neck wound's likely a contributing factor there. "Whatever the fuck that was, it seems to have helped." She twitches her hips experimentally, coming up against hard evidence that she's not the only one whose blood gets up during a fight. "Sammy" jumps up and off her, his rising blush just visible in the cemetery lights.
Totally edible.
She shudders and jumps to her feet in a move worthy of any wildcat, unable to resist the urge to show off a little. Both boys are watching her by the time she's dusted herself off. Neither's moved an inch; they're both just staring, slightly slack-jawed and radiating heat from every pore.
Nice.
The rush of power confirmed brings her back to herself enough to remember she's also pissed off. "So does someone want to tell me why you boys made it your personal mission to fuck up my night?"
The guys do a classic comic double take, glancing at each other as they stand, then back at her. The injured one breaks the silence first. "We didn't…"
"One:" she holds up her first finger, "you shot me." She points at her abraded shoulder, "You don't shoot the Calvary."
Both at once, they interrupt. "I wasn't aiming at you!"
"It wasn't his fault!" the blood donor says over Sammy's excuse. "You came out of nowhere!"
"Shut up!" Pointing at Sammy, she adds, "Either your aim or your judgment sucks, and I don't care which."
"Two:" she sticks two fingers into the donor's face and continues without pause, "you don't throw condiments at vampires."
The taller idiot exclaims, "I told you those weren't zombies, Dean!" He's crowing a bit, happy to be right.
Just as excited, the wounded man, Dean, focuses on her, "No way were those vampires!"
"Enough!" She growls, glaring at the idiots, hands held up in front of their faces. "You don't hunt vampires with shotguns. Let alone with shells filled with salt." They both quiet and stare at her narrowly as she continues.
"Four: You. Shot. Me." They both have the sense to stay quiet at that, so she moves on.
"Five: you completely destroyed a whole day's work. Now I have to go back out tomorrow and set up on them again before they move their lair, and I really…"
"We know…" Sammy's hand almost goes up as he interrupts – it's adorable, but she cuts him off anyway.
"You barely know which end of a stake to hold!"
Dean chimes in "Doesn't mean he isn't way ahead of you, sweetheart. We found the "lair" a couple of days ago." She spins on him, ready to rip the smug off his face, but his grin rips that thought right out of her head, replacing it with an entirely different urge. She's actually moving toward him when police sirens begin to sing through the air from close by.
The boys look at each other, panic spreading across their faces before they tamp it down in an obviously familiar effort. Making the kind of quick decision that usually gets her into the best kind of trouble, Faith asks sweetly, "You boys got a car?"
Her first thought on seeing the sleek black Impala is that this isn't a car, it's a goddamned penis extension. She chokes the thought down before it can become verbal, knowing better than to mention the glut of testosterone she's about to take shameless advantage of. But… how in the hell do they hide from cops in this thing?
After a brief, wordless struggle, Sammy slides into the driver's seat and she settles in between them on the front seat. She lets them pick the destination, only offering advice on avoiding the couple of cop cars they encounter. They end up at a seedy cabin-motel five miles outside of town. It's hours before sunrise and any sensible time to go after the nest, which suits Faith just fine.
Sammy, all solicitous, drops her and Dean at their cabin and goes off to hide the car in the bushes on the far side of the lot. Faith takes her cue from his concern and slings her arm around Dean, sliding into his personal space. He leans into her side, long and muscled and lean, even though he clearly doesn't need her help.
She lets him get the room door shut before she jumps him, wrapping her legs around his waist and letting him stumble them toward the nearest of the two unmade beds. They collapse in a laughing heap with him on top. She lets him stay there while she attacks the fly of his jeans, sliding her hand inside and cupping him so she doesn't maim his cock with the zipper.
Dean pushes her halter off while her hands are occupied, leaving it bunched at her neck while he offers her breasts an enthusiastic hello. She rips the top off over her head as soon as she's finished getting him free, leaving his jeans at his thighs, cock jutting sharply into the air.
Lifting her hips on cue, she shimmies enough to help him peel her leather pants off and he slides right down with them. Belatedly, she grabs at his head, finding just enough purchase in his short hair to pull him back up into a messy, open-mouthed kiss. One kiss turns into two, and two turns into a sloppy, heated exploration, a too-slow tumble of tongues and that's not what she had in mind, not what she needs…
Breaking away, Faith offers, "It's not that I don't appreciate the enthusiasm, Sugar, but tonight I'm looking for a long, hard ride." She flips him easily onto his back and sheathes herself on his cock in a single fluid motion, ripping his t-shirt open as she starts to ride him in earnest, eager to get at all that skin, to run her hands over all that muscle bunched so near the surface.
She hears the door open behind her and looks back over her shoulder. Sammy's frozen in the entryway, stuck halfway between inside and out. He takes the two of them in with a hungry look, gaze quickly settling on Dean straining obliviously under her, uncertainty and longing radiating off his still frame in equal measure.
"Come on in, cowboy," she calls out softly, suddenly fearful she'll spook him. "The water's fine."
Startled back into reality by her words, Dean looks up fuzzily at the other man. "Dude – you gonna join us or what?" As he speaks, she watches irritation rise in Sammy, replacing the naked need of a moment before. "It's not nice to keep a lady waiting, Sammy… though I wouldn't say she's exac…" she shifts her hips forward, taking Dean in deeper and shutting down his dangerous ability to form words. He writhes shamelessly under her, once again oblivious to his surroundings.
Good. There's that delicious, tangible hunger again, rising off Sammy as his walls crumble back down. He stares, eyes raw and unguarded for a few heartbeats before all the hesitation finally drains out of him and he starts to move. Kicking the door shut behind him, Sammy strips off his shirt as he approaches the bed, eyes fixed on Dean, his attention unwavering as he undoes shirt buttons, revealing the long line of his chest.
She's so distracted watching him watch Dean that it's almost a physical blow when Sammy wrenches his gaze to hers, away from Dean's sudden, too-curious stare. She senses entirely too much awareness in that stare; clearly she's not holding up her end of this strange dance. Pushing Dean back down with a hand on his chest, she clenches muscles around his cock that most girls aren't even aware they have. The distraction works a bit too well: Dean's face twists, staring up at her as he gasps out, "Succubus?" certain he's about to die a very happy man.
"Slayer," she corrects with a laugh, convulsing her slayerness around him again.
He manages an almost coherent, "Wha…?" but he's losing the battle again and Sammy's attention has swung right back to him, as sure as any compass. His eyes are burning so brightly she's amazed Dean doesn't just burst right into flame.
She may be having a hard time believing Dean can't feel it, but it's clear that's exactly what Sammy wants. His voice is carefully controlled when he answers Dean's half-asked question, "Dad met a Slayer in New York, remember?" Standing at the end of the bed now, he unconsciously wets his lips as he toes off his shoes and pops the buttons on his jeans, freeing his heavy, weeping cock. She wets her own lips as he continues, "Super-strong girl who fought zomb…"
"Vampires." She interrupts firmly. Sammy tilts his head at her in confusion, his attention actually on her for the first time since he entered the room. "Slayers fight vampires. Trust me." He kicks away his jeans, blessedly naked now. She soaks him in with her eyes, wishing he'd close that last bit of distance so she could touch that broad, strong chest. So she could lick him all over.
He's dismissed her again though, focus snapped backed to the man under her. Dean pulls a pillow down over his head and whines "Vampires…. Zombies.. No wonder I was confused." Sammy lunges up over her, ripping the offending cushion off Dean's face and flinging it across the room.
His cock trails wetly along her side as he moves back up behind her. Her mouth waters, imagining wrapping her lips around the considerable width of him, already able to taste him. She reaches for him, but he slides back, out of range again. Frustrated and more than a little impatient, Faith clenches and shimmies on Dean, determination renewed to not be ignored by both of them. Dean lets out a gratifying gasp, but it's the flash of fire in Sammy's eyes that really catches her attention.
He splays one hand very deliberately in the center of her back. She catches and holds his eyes with hers as she lets him push her down, bending her until her chest is flush with Dean's. He turns away then, but his hand is large and warm on her back as he holds her there, keeping them all connected as he rummages through something off the side of the bed.
The slick is cold when it comes, and she shudders on Dean, but she's lost most of his attention now too: his eyes are fixed above her, though he's trying hard not to let it show. There's the familiar rustle-slick-snap of a condom, and then all her focus is on relaxing enough to take Sammy in, because he's pushing in all at once, and he feels huge and she's already feeling pretty full of Dean and damn, it's been a long time since she did this.
He's balls deep in her ass now, hands completely covering her hips as he holds her needlessly in place. Dean's clutching at her head, fingers wound tight in her hair, trying not to move. She takes a deep, deliberate breath in, and is glad when it reminds Dean to breathe too. When they exhale together, all the air leaves their lungs in a rush because Sammy picks that moment to move, drawing most of the way out of her and slamming back in, running hard along the bulk of Dean's cock, buried deep inside her.
Dean shudders again under her, but then he's moving too and she's lost. It doesn't take the boys long to set up a fluid rhythm, moving together beautifully, for all that they're barely touching. Just like they've been doing this all their lives. Their push-and-pull slips through her, subsuming her completely, sometimes sliding in and out in effortless synchronicity, sometimes slamming into her together in a deliberate, explosive collision. It's brutal and deep and perfect and Faith stops caring if they know she's there, lost in one orgasm after another, just trying to hold on.
An unfathomable time later, Sammy goes still above her. Dean grabs his hand and shoves himself upward, slick and solid through that thin veil of her in the middle. It tears Sammy apart and puts him together again in that same instant, drawing a low, almost anguished, "Dean" from his throat as they both spill inside her.
He collapses hard onto her back, still clutching Dean's hand. Faith kind of grays out for a bit, staring at their joined fingers, feeling oddly protective of them both. She's fiercely glad she's not fully human, that she doesn't need to make them move just so she can breathe. A few moments later, she realizes that Dean is, and tries to shift, but he brings his other hand up and holds her in place, shaking his head almost imperceptibly.
Sammy shifts against her back, warm and heavy, better than any blanket. Dean's eyes flutter closed and Faith's not gonna argue with either of them.
~Finis~
Limerance: A powerful and constantly distracting and obsessive infatuation.