Title: I Can't Say if We're Ever Gonna be Free
Author/Artist: Hanyo
Characters/Pairing: Sam/Ava. There are mentions of Dean, but he's all.
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Sam holds Ava's face in his hands, and she wraps her arms around his neck and they lovingly kiss for what seems like hours, but is only minutes.
Warnings: Pre-fic character death; AU, so no spoilers. I suppose though, if you haven't seen Hunted, then Ava herself is a spoiler. …Oops?
Notes: Title taken from BOC's "Veteran of a Thousand Psychic Wars".
The water is freezing, has been for a while now, but they don't care. It beats down on their bare skin, and it's enough to raise goosebumps, but it isn't important.
Every night, they kiss gently and fuck slowly and hope for an absolution that may just forgive them for being the twisted and perverse things they've become.
Sam holds Ava's face in his hands, and she wraps her arms around his neck and they lovingly kiss for what seems like hours, but is only minutes. He opens his eyes and stares at her; she's always been beautiful, but that's an understatement for her looks now. Her hair is black, and her naturally yellow eyes are hidden behind bright blue contacts. He thinks back to several months ago, and remembers the all too professional voice of the all too identical newscasters; "Police have reported two possible suspects to the connected murders as a tall, brown haired man accompanied by a shorter, tawny-haired woman…"
The memory makes his stomach lurch. Not the memory of the news reports, no, the memory of killing all those innocent people is what does it, is what has fucking vampire bats flying around in his stomach. And the kicker is that, the killings are nothing but a huge, bloody blur. Not just for Sam, but for Ava too; she described the faint memory the same way.
She threads her fingers through his now blond hair, "I'm afraid, Sam. I'm scared."
Sam looks down at her with his fake-brown eyes, "I know." He hates himself for not telling her the whole truth. He's scared too, fucking terrified, but he doesn't tell her. He pulls her into his arms, holds on to her tight, and growls deep inside his throat. He's angry. At so many things and people that he can't think straight.
He feels it; his true form is coming out. Now Ava's will too.
Fucking damn it.
He tries to hold back, but he can't. It all makes him want to cry, but he can't. He won't, not when he has to be strong.
'Dean cried.' says that weird voice in the back of his head, 'He cried when Daddy died, when your bitchy selfishness wouldn't stop eating at his heart,' Sam tightens his grip on Ava, 'when he thought you were dead,' he bows his head and sniffles, 'and he cried when you beat him to death. Right after he did his damndest to look past 'the demon possessing you' and told 'the real you' to stay alive and be strong, he cried.' The voice chuckles mockingly, 'You, or I, actually, took that to heart, didn't I?'
Ava whispers, timid and broken, and the voice in Sam's head is silenced, "Sam, I can't hold it back. The blur's going to come back."
Sam starts shaking, "I know. I can feel it too. S'my fault."
She means to say something then, but the words won't come out. Instead, she digs her fingernails into his back and together, they drop to their knees on the wet tile of the bathtub. Their heads are thrown back and they're screaming in pain as the suppressed demons come out.
When Sam opens his eyes, all he sees is lust.
He stands and brings Ava up with him. He pulls her in and they kiss roughly. Their hands roam everywhere, scraping and squeezing and pulling and caressing and the foreplay doesn't last for long; gentle fucking isn't near enough.
Sam pushes Ava up against the tile wall, so that her back is facing him, and begins attacking her neck. She tilts her head to the side, turning her face away from the water. Sam doesn't care about the water, he just concentrates on licking and nipping and sucking and biting. He acts on the latter when he spreads her Ava's legs and thrusts into her.
She cries out and arches her into her lover; they fit together perfectly.
Sam moves in and out of her wet pussy and groans. He smirks when she screams and decides then to circle an arm around to her front, and slide the hand attached down between her legs to caress her swollen clit. He can feel her inner muscles clench, "C'mon," he whispers, "come for me, cover me in your come."
Simple as that, Ava comes. Her entire body goes stiff for a moment and she tightens around Sam's cock.
"Sam, oh god, Sam..." she trails off, mumbling incoherently. Sam's still hard, but a few more thrusts easily take care of that.
Neither of them is sure how they end up in the bed, but they get there, and are kissing fervently until Sam jerks away. He lifts up her face and smiles devilishly,
"It's the witching hour now." he says, motioning to the small alarm clock set on the nearby dresser, right next to an old copy of the Holy Bible.
She mirrors his smile, "It is isn't it? We should leave then. Plenty of mindless idiots and amateur hunters out at this hour, finding, hell, killing them would be a fucking synch."
Sam snickers, "S'right." He bends down and nuzzles her breasts, "Shall we get going then?"
She moans contently, "Hmm, not just yet." She kisses him and his toes curl, "I want you to fuck me again."
He pauses, even now surprised at her bluntness, then laughs and pins her to the comforter.
Nobody dies that night.