This isn't true smut. It's way more hurt comfort. It's pain and self hatred and letting someone else in to share the burden. The idea just kinda came to me and I couldn't get it off my mind until I wrote it.
She knew he was close to giving in. Kneeling in front of him, she was trying to pull his hand onto her body. "It's just me in here, and it's wonderful."
His eyes were screwed shut, and his voice sounded like he was in pain. "Ruby, I can't."
"Yes you can." Her hands were surprisingly gentle on his face. "Feel me Sam. Don't I feel so good?"
His hands were gripping the cool skin of her waist. "Ruby..." It was almost pleading, begging her to stop and continue all at once.
"Sam." She exhaled his name, and that was all it took he grabbed her head and crushed his lips to hers. It wasn't gentle and it wasn't loving. She could taste the self loathing on him, the bitter taste of despair in need. She wondered if he could taste it on her too.
He pulled her into his lap, she jumped up as soon as she realized what he was doing. His hands were all over her. She could feel how hard he was, and the way he leaned his hips away from her, even as he pulled her shirt off and ran his hands over the smooth skin of her back, still kissing her as if his life depended on this moment. She yanked his shirt off and pressed their chests together, skin rapidly heating up. She was speaking without really noticing. "Sam, please. I need this. You need this."
His hands tightened on her, nearly to the point of pain. "Ruby, stop. Please, before I lose my mind."
She kissed him again, raking her nails down his back as more clothes were shed. His erection was hot against her stomach, but she could feel his grimace. This was impossibly hard for him, almost to the point of physical pain. They both knew he would hate himself in the morning, but right now nothing mattered except this. The contact that they had both missed for so long.
"Sam." She kept saying his name. Every time, she felt him shudder with a mixture of distress and pleasure. This wasn't about love. This wasn't about being horny. This was about need. They were taking from each other the closeness and desire they were desperate for. Self hatred oozed from both of them, but there was no turning back as she lowered herself onto him with a groan. She gripped his shoulders, digging in her nails and raising bruises. His hands were in her hair, gripping and pulling to the point of pain, but it was okay.
It wasn't over quickly. They spent nearly 45 minutes lost in each other, in the little bubble they had created where nothing could touch them. She reached her release first, shuddering as his nails raked down her stomach has she fell apart. Pleasure and a feeling of total release overwhelmed her, and tears streamed down her face. He followed soon after, shaking and burying his face in her shoulder.
She held herself together until he finished, breathing hard and hot against and flushed skin, and then she was sobbing. For a demon, she was very humane. She had gone to great lengths to preserve that part of herself, and right now she felt something breaking apart inside her. He held her tight, still inside her but completely soft now. She had no idea how long they stayed like that as she cried out all her pain and regret and self disgust. He just kept a tight grip on her and rested his head on her shoulder. He didn't speak. It always surprised her how caring he was, even after all he'd seen and done.
It wasn't something they would ever talk about, but from then on, the bond between them was different, a little bit stronger.