a/n: Reviews are love! Concrit welcome!
(and the darkness calls)
the darkness calls to me
and I follow,
for I have no-where else
to go.
The very first time Ruby kisses Sam, her hands soft on his neck, he panics. "Please," he gasps, pleading, although he doesn't know what it is he's asking please stop or please don't, ever, because I-
Because I what? He thinks. Love you?
He doesn't; he can't—love is good and pure, love is Dean, and Jessica, and not Ruby, never Ruby.
It's just that he's so far into the darkness and Ruby, Ruby is so damn bright. Her brightness is such that he has to follow her, the way that if you were in a tunnel, you'd run towards the light at the end no matter what.
He tries to make himself stop, to tell himself that the light's nothing but an oncoming train, but not a single cell n his body believes it. So he breaks promises, lies to Dean—well, to everyone, but Dean's the only one who matters—and he licks the blood, thick and sickly sweet, off his fingers.
He could tell himself, you know, that he doesn't want her, but when he runs his hands over her back, feeling each vertebra of her spine under his fingers, he knows that to be a lie. He could say it's a trick, a trap, she's caught him in her snare and now he's addicted, and hell, it might be half-true. But there's more to it, rather more than Sam likes to admit, because a lot of it's on him.
So he doesn't tell himself anything at all—lets his fingers, sliding across Ruby's chest, speak for him.
Ruby is beautiful.
Sam notices it then, as she stands there, hair long and down, that even the contours of her face are perfect.
It's not important, of course, isn't the reason Sam has this weird connection with her, but it certainly doesn't help matters.
She smiles at him, then, wild and dangerous. Desire stirs deep within him, and he can't—well, he doesn't exactly want to—resist her.
So he doesn't. He closes the distance between them with easy strides and slips his hands over Ruby's waist like the indents of her hips were made especially for him.
Sam reduces the distance to nothing by leaning down and kissing her, hard. He feels Ruby's mouth curve up as she flicks her tongue over his lips.
He tilts her head back and she gasps, her eyes flicking black. Sam turns his face away—not because he's repulsed, but because he isn't. Ruby's a demon, which makes this wrong, but honestly he really does not give a fuck anymore. He regrets the lies, and the fact that Dean feels he's been betrayed, but he can't regret her.
Especially when her fingers are slick with demon blood and she slides them over his mouth and then leans in, kissing it from his lips. She's too close but he stopped protesting a long time ago (please don't stop, because I-); he lets his hands slide over her, touching her breast, her hips, her body.
So Sam doesn't stop because he doesn't want to, and they fuck right then and there, against the wall. Ruby's legs are spread wide and she pants against his neck and whispers, "Sam." He says no words at all but lets out a deep moan and thrusts himself against her as hard as he can. Her hands are on his chest, his on her hips, and they rock, slamming hard against the wall. Sam wants, needs, to be in her, to be part of her. This close he can bask in her light—the more of her his hands reach, the less the darkness can reach him, claim him for its own.
They fuck for what feels like both eternity and nothing at all, Ruby whispering dark words in a language Sam does not speak, and his own breath just a hiss between his teeth.
Finally he withdraws, pulse slowing. Ruby "shhhs" him, leading him to a bed and lying him down. He closes his eyes and notes with disinterest that he still feels no guilt. Sex with Ruby is very different because she is very different from any woman Sam has loved before. He wishes he could tell this to Dean—explain it all to Dean.
There's darkness all around me, he thinks. It's everywhere, even inside me, and Ruby isn't darkness, she holds it back. She's helping me, Dean, helping me save people, and I need that.
Sam isn't stupid. He knows it's wrong (because it's wrong and bad and we shouldn't, he remembers). It's inhuman, but sometimes, sometimes Ruby is the only thing that makes him feel alive.
Very slowly, and very carefully, Ruby teaches Sam how to love her. She teaches him how not to worry about Dean, how to let go.
When he wakes from blood-drenched, sticky, nightmares, she teaches him how to collapse into her arms, and shows him that if he just lets her hold him, he will be alright.
She is skilled in many ways; during sex she guides his hands to the perfect place to make her gasp, and it's long before she has him panting against her in return.
She teaches him how to use the powers she grants him, talks him through exorcisms. When killing demons leaves him exhausted, she seems content to merely sit beside him and stroke his hair, always whispering those dark-tongued words.
She feels like a miracle, and is probably a curse. But it's damn hard for Sam to differentiate when she slices open her own arm and offers it to him like it's a blood sacrifice to the gods.
Sam glances up to her eyes and they're completely unreadable as always, so he stares instead at the gently oozing blood.
He leans down and presses his mouth to the cut and drinks. The liquid is sweet as it slides down his throat so he parts Ruby's flesh with his tongue, trying to swallow her down. His teeth scrape against the wound, but the gasp she makes is more of pleasure than pain, so he sucks deep one last time before pulling off to breath. His mind is a hazy mess of red.
Ruby smiles her dangerous smile at him and he's not sure what he's done to deserve her, or even whether it was good or bad deeds that brought her to him.
His mouth is still full of a sticky-sweet taste, though, so he falls against her chest and lets her pull him close.
And God, Dean thinks Sam's falling in love with Ruby.
The thought's laughable- he's not; that much he knows. It's just—if you're falling into the sun, eventually you're going to start to burn.
a/n: Thank you ever so much for reading.