Mr. Congeniality

Raccoon City – Summer – 1998

On the shimmery, steaming pavement, Alyssa Ashcroft was bringing attention to the police tape that flapped, gently, in the summer breeze. She was a beautiful woman; blonde, busty, and possessed of a lovely fashion sense. Her red suit was catchy, her eyeliner brought out the blue of her eyes, and her perfect bone structure made her face unforgettable.

Humidity lingered like a foul stench over the roasting little metropolis. The heat was rabid, hinting at an ugly summer. It was early June and already sporting temps in the high eighties at 9 a.m. It didn't bode well for the rest of the season.

People were found lounging anywhere there was water or relief. Sweaty, tired, angry drivers were caught in rush hour drives baking beneath the burning rays of mother nature's brutal shift from a rainy spring to a burning summer. Air conditioners were fired up and dying by the dozens. Shorts and swimsuits were as far as the eye could see.

Alyssa Ashcroft was trying to get the Captain of the S.T.A.R.S. to give her a damn comment.

"Captain Wesker! Captain Wesker!" She gestured wildly and drew those reflective glasses to her face, "This is the third murder in as many weeks. People are starting to panic. Is there any movement on the case? Or is the city going to continue to fear being eaten by cannibals?"

Looking cucumber cool in the blistering heat, save for a fine sheen of sweat on his smooth forehead, Albert Wesker, wearing his uniform without flinching at the scratchy heat of it on his skin, replied, "We've leads, Ms. Ashcroft. The city can rest easy. The STARS were formed specifically for cases like this. I have the best minds in the business hunting them down as we speak."

Those best minds were gathered, BRAVO and ALPHA alike, around the conference table.

Joseph was sitting against the far wall, going through files. Rebecca was at the table digging through witness reports. Enrico Marini, BRAVO's team leader, was staring at the cork board with Barry trying to find a connection between the murders.

Brad and Edward Dewey were at the foot of the table flipping through similar crime data statewide. Chris and Kenneth Sullivan were tossing the hacky sack and spitballing theories while Jill and Forest Speyer were pouring over crime scene photos.

Chris said, "What about a cult?"

Kenneth caught the hacky sack and chucked it back. Chris caught it bounced it off his wrist, elbow, and then made it disappear. Rebecca found it in her hand.

Impressed, she glanced up, "How!?"

Chris winked at her as she tossed it to Jill.

Jill bounced it off her head and it flipped to Forest. Forest, tall, skinny, and hilarious, used his butt to send it flying across the room. It hit Enrico in the back of the head, was caught by Barry, and thrown at Brad.

Brad smacked it like a volleyball and it went up, up, and came down to be bounced off Chris' foot. Kenneth headbutted it toward Edward…and the game went on.

"No cult," Barry added, "There's no symmetry to the killings. None. It's random. And it's not even the same really."

Jill piped in, "The first attack was brutal. The second was worse. The coroner said it was at least TWO sets of human jaws that did the damage there."

Kenneth answered, "So we have multiple assailants and no idea where they are coming from."

Chris said, "The pattern of killing indicates the forest near the park. But that's a broad fucking area. We could comb it for days and never find anything."

Rebecca lifted her head and flipped the hacky sack to Jill. "What's out there? The train yard for the Ecliptic Express."

Forest added, "Does anybody actually live out there in the woods?"

Curious, Enrico turned his head, "Unlikely. There's some hunting cabins out there, of course. But the coal mine in the mountains was abandoned years ago. With the bears and the wolves, I don't think it's popular to just go out there and hunt. Maybe during deer season. But the timing is all wrong."

Richard Aiken came in carrying a tray of coffees. Everyone gathered around to get one. Richard took up a chair next to Rebecca.

Joseph said, "We should do airborne passes over the forest."

Chris was already nodding, "Agreed. We have four good pilots between us. We can split shifts. One to fly, a few of us to look for anything that might tell us where they are. Focus on the mine and the train tracks as a first order of business. If they are living out there, they're gonna need a place safe from the elements."

The plan in place, they started tossing the hacky sack with a vengeance. Enrico and Barry were good at spiking it. Rebecca was really good at volleying it up in the air. Jill was good at diving across the table and keeping it alive.

Chris had a tendency to bounce it and it would, randomly, appear across the room. Brad was good at knocking it to Richard who lobbied it over the table toward Forest. Forest would bounce it playfully on his wrists, his head, his knee and send it up and out toward Edward who'd send it spinning to Joseph.

For two different teams, they played hacky sack like a single organism.

Jill dove for it, missed, and slid right off the table. She smashed into Chris, he pinwheeled his arms, and down they went in a heap. Luckily, Rebecca dove and saved the day. The hacky sack stayed in play, everyone laughed, and Jill chuckled.

She looked down at him on the floor. "Sorry, big guy. You ok?"

"I'll live. You have, however, harmed my huge ego."

She shifted and her eyebrows went into her hair. "I can feel your huge ego. It seems just fine."

Chris laughed and hugged her. He'd missed her. He'd missed the flirting. Maybe hacky sack was the key to best friends forever.

He said, "Let me help you up, kid."

And Jill shifted. She shifted, just a little, but it brushed over his huge ego. And he narrowed his eyes at her.

She gave him a lifted brow. "What?"

"That felt deliberate."

"….really?" She had to whisper a little now, "That thing is twelve feet long. It encompasses your entire lower half like a third leg. No matter how I shift, I'm touching it, Red. Not trying to grope you, just stand up."

Congenially, Chris chuckled, "You want to grope me?"

Rolling her eyes, Jill rose. She put a hand down for him. He took it, brushing off his butt as he rose.

Brad said, "You can dive on me if you want, Jill. I won't make you get off afterward."

Joseph quipped, "Sounds about right. You can't make any girl on earth get off, Vickers."

And everyone laughed.

Jill let out a little laugh, turned back to the group…and her hand brushed over his groin. Just a little…swipe.

Chris jumped a little and narrowed his eyes. She walked off to join Rebecca. But that had definitely felt deliberate.

Chris said, "I'll go gear up the chopper. Who wants in on the first pass?"

It was a Friday night. NO ONE wanted in on it. Everyone had plans.

Everyone but Rebecca Chambers.

She was happy to tag along. Sweet kid, she was eager and friendly. She was nervous and talked a lot. She put him at ease during the flight.

He circled the tree tops and circled the perimeter and Rebecca used NODS (nighttime ocular device) to scan the low lying areas. In his headset, she was saying, "I don't see anything suspicious. The trainyard has a few areas that could be vandals or potential living arrangements though. You want to touch down and take a look?"

"Sure. Let me find a clearing. Settle in."

They circled close to the trainyard and sat down in a wide open clearing. The chopper blades turned up dust and dirt as it settled, easily, and the rotating tornado became a whomp of air and tapered off to silence. Chris removed his headset and helped Rebecca out of the chopper.

It was easing toward twilight. He pulled his sidearm and gestured. She did the same. And she looked NERVOUS AS HELL about it. Trying to put her at ease, he touched her arm.

"Rebecca, relax. The odds are that there is nothing in that trainyard but, possibly, some homeless people sleeping. If there are hostiles, we will radio for back up and stand down until they arrive. We're not here to play hero. Ok?"

Rebecca looked pale but nodded. She took a deep breath to steady herself.

He always forgot she was barely eighteen. A baby. A genius but a baby. She'd come to Raccoon City trying to make a name for herself. She'd graduated medical school as a minor. She had the brains of Frankenstein, the looks of Tinkerbell, and the indomitable will of Ghandi. She was something pretty great for being the size of a ten year old boy.

She barely reached the middle of his chest. She was…possibly…five foot tall. She also, maybe, weighed ninety pounds. Because he was a guy, his brain pictured her naked. She was slim and small and skinny. But she was cute. He tried to imagine thrusting into her tiny body with his big dick and couldn't picture it. She wasn't even as big as his dick.

And so he made himself laugh.

Rebecca glanced up at his face. "What is it?"

"Nothin. I'm good. Just stay at my six ok? Don't engage unless necessary."

"Roger!" And she gave him a thumbs up.

Jesus. She was the cutest thing ever. She looked about ten years old.

The inspected the first empty train car of the box train they came upon in the train yard. The yard itself was empty and filled with unused trains. The tracks diverged into two lines and offered the viewer the sight of graffiti ranging from hilarious (a cat farting on a bird) to the dirty (a detailed description of someone named Stella's wet pussy) to curse words and invented anti-government propaganda.

They cleared car after car with a series of sweeps and movements. There was no sign of torture or cannibalism or anything worth raising an alarm.

The area was pretty easily explored. And they came across two homeless guys eating soup from a can during their exploration. Chris gave them the cash he had on them and his jacket.

Quietly, Rebecca watched him as they made their way back to the chopper.

He felt her watching and said, "What?"

"You gave them your coat."

"I did."

"Why?"

"They needed it. I didn't."

Rebecca watched him for a moment as they stepped into the clearing. He met her eyes and tilted his head. "Chambers, you stare a lot."

She laughed a little and started walking again. "Sorry. I always thought you were kinda arrogant and rude."

And she was also painfully honest.

Curious, he sat down in the open doorway of the chopper and she hopped up next to him. They shared a soda while they sat. "Interesting. Why?"

"Honestly?" Rebecca sipped the soda, "You have a stick up your ass at work. I saw how you were with everyone there. I mean, you've got that face and that body, so I figured you were just turning girls off so they'd stop chasing you."

Amused, Chris laughed. "Most people have a face and body, Chambers. Without them, what would be? ….besides scary as hell."

"….does it matter?" And then she did air quotes. She did air quotes around the word matter. Because she was a science nerd. And had just made nerdy joke.

Chris laughed. He just laughed. And he patted her leg.

He didn't see her face when he did it. But she grabbed his vest and pulled him down…and he got it. His brain said: SHIT and she kissed him.

She straight up closed those little eyes, puckered her mouth, and just laid one on him.

Sweet thing that she was, she poured herself into it like she'd die if she didn't.

And he didn't have the heart to stop her. Because she looked so sweet. And then she pulled back and rolled her little bottom lip under her teeth and gnawed at it.

And she giggled.

She said, "Sorry. I wanted to see what it felt like."

"What?"

"Kissing a freight train."

Chris blinked. He blinked again. And then he laughed. He liked laughing. He liked her face. She looked like a curious pixie. She was small and sweet and young. And made him feel old.

Rebecca said, "Is Jill your girlfriend?"

Curious, he considered his answer. And went with truth. "No. Why?"

Rebecca shifted where she sat, "She's my friend. So, I wanted to be sure. I don't want to be making trouble."

Chris laughed and looped an arm around her. She sighed and snuggled against him.

"Chambers, what a girl you are. No. Jill Valentine isn't my girlfriend." Anymore, he added, anymore. And it still felt like fire and pain in his fucking guts.

"So…then I don't feel bad telling that that was my first kiss."

Chris froze and blinked. He looked at pixie face in the setting sun. Yep. She was serious. So he replied, "Seriously?"

"Yep."

"…why?"

"I was always ten years younger than all the boys I went to school with. Who was going to kiss me? I'm no Jill. Boys don't look at me."

Chris considered that. And he could see the conundrum. Little thing, young, and smarter than all the other boys that were older and dumber. She likely intimidated the shit out of everyone. It was a hard road for a young girl.

"Boys over look girls like me, most of the time."

"Hmm. Hang on."

He caught her chin and turned her face up. She made a little sound and he kissed her. It was a good kiss. He kissed her smooth and soft. It was sweet. It was gentle. It was, for a girl that hadn't ever been kissed before, a wonderful first time.

She sighed as he leaned back.

And he said, "There. That's what you want to compare to. Find someone who kisses you and makes your skin throb, Rebecca. Otherwise? Don't bother kissing them."

Rebecca said, softly, dreamily, "You have someone that makes you feel that way?"

"I do. Otherwise? I'd keep on kissing you."

She shivered at the image. And didn't feel quite like an invisible little girl anymore. And she wondered how Jill Valentine could ever, ever, say no to the freight train. As the girl leaning against one muscled arm, she couldn't imagine ever wanting anything more than another ride.

Maybe he didn't make her skin throb.

The damn air conditioner went out at his place. It was three thousand degrees and the air conditioner blew. Of course, it did. He tinkered with it some, cursed it some, and kicked it some. He called the super and let him know but there wasn't much hope of having it fixed any time soon.

Defeated, Chris sat in the living room drinking beer, playing the zombie game, and hanging with Dog while he sweltered. Where was Jill when he needed her? He could just see her face when he rang her up on a Friday night to ask her to come fix his air conditioner.

The idea was comic.

One – he knew she was on a date. He'd seen date all over her at work today. She'd worn make up and fixed her hair.

Two – he didn't have a date. So, he was home on a Friday night doing nothing. And he did NOT want her to know that.

Rebecca kissing him on the chopper was the closest thing to a date he'd had in a long time. Which, in hindsight, was kinda sad. He pictured himself grabbing Rebecca and throwing her down and drilling her through that little Medic outfit she was always wearing.

Amused, he patted Dog and blew up zombies instead.

Sweating, slick from it, he took himself out into the garage to beat the shit out of his heavy bag. After about forty minutes of that, he did some push ups and lifted weights. When he was smoked and dripping, he went back into the moist house to find Jill's left over tools.

Enough was enough, he was going to defeat the air conditioner. It was time.

After about an hour of digging around in the dark, he finally found two wires that had come loose. Chris flicked them and heard the machine chug and shiver. He lifted his arms above his head and fist bumped himself.

Who needed Jill Valentine!? He could do this shit all by himself.

Proud like a man who'd just climbed a mountain, he went into the kitchen to reward himself with another beer. He was judging his Friday night as pretty awesome now. Cool air had started to pump from the vents again. And he was rocking a pretty strong buzz.

It was dark in the house now save for the light from the television in the living room.

The front door jiggled.

He set the mostly drank beer down on the counter and waited. He wondered if he'd really heard it. The knob jiggled again.

He was half hoping a cannibal was going to be on the other side.

Chris opened the drawer next to the steak knives and pulled out his Glock. He clicked off the safety, jerked a round into the chamber, and moved to the door. The knob jiggled again and he put his back beside the door and waited.

The silence was loud. The air from the vent was cool on his face as it blasted down from the ceiling. Dog was sleeping on the bed in his room.

The door squeaked a little as it finally opened.

The hand of the intruder came into view and Chris grabbed their wrist and jerked. There was a gasp and he slung them against the wall, threw a hand against their chest, and aimed the pistol at their forehead with the other. About ten seconds after that, he could see their face in the flickering light from the television.

"…Jill?"

"Are you going to shoot me?" Her eyes were wide but her voice was irritated.

"Shit. Sorry." He lowered the gun and turned back to shut the door that was hanging wide open. He locked it and the deadbolt. "There's cannibals running around. I'm sure you've heard. What the fuck were you doing?"

"Picking the lock." She moved away from the wall slowly.

"Why? I gave you a key."

"Yeah. I didn't have it on me."

He turned back from looking out the window and stopped. She was dressed in…something. It was something. It was denim and snug. It was paired cowboy boots tooled with some kind of design. The dress was barely below her groin. There was a fat belt with a turquoise buckle around her narrow waist. The dress looked like a big men's work shirt with wide cuffs and buttons down the front. Four of the buttons were left open enough that he could see all kinds of cleavage in it.

He said, "So you broke into my house?"

"I did. I didn't think you'd be awake. I wanted to see Dog. It's 2 a.m. Chris. Why are you awake?"

He lifted a brow at her. He moved into the kitchen to get another beer. "Why are YOU awake, Jill? Shouldn't you be at your boyfriend's house fucking?"

Curious, she studied him. He was a little tipsy. She could always tell with him. And he was soaked in sweat. The white t-shirt he wore was stuck to him like glue. The camouflage sleeping pants he wore were sweaty. His bare feet, however, looked adorable.

"No boyfriend. So, that's a negatory." Jill followed him into the kitchen. He handed her a beer and she cracked the top to sip it. "What about you? Shouldn't you be out giving some girl a ride on the freight train?"

Chris chuckled and turned to lean on the counter. Jill leaped up beside him and sat down. They clinked beers companionably.

"Not tonight. Rebecca Chambers came on to me in the forest today though. So, that happened."

Jill choked on her beer. She literally choked. And Chris had to slap her back to help her.

"What?!"

"Oh yeah," He laughed again, "She asked if we were together. I said no. She laid one on me. Sweet kid."

Jill considered as she sipped. "You like it?"

Chris shrugged now and peeled off the sweaty shirt he wore to toss it over a chair. "It was sweet. She's a virgin. Clearly. And, more than that, she'd never kissed a boy before. So, I kissed her. It was very innocent."

Jill was quiet, watching him.

He lifted his head to look at her. "What?"

"You like her?"

Again, that shrug. "She's a nice kid. A little young for me, don't you think? And I think I learned my lesson about shitting where I eat at work."

And Jill said again, "You do. You like her."

That laconic shrug. It could mean anything or nothing. "She's sweet. Unassuming. Friendly. She's got a good head on her shoulders. She made me laugh. I could do a helluva lot worse."

"Without a doubt."

Chris unhooked his watch and set it on the counter. Jill watched him for a long moment. "I've been hanging out with Felicity and Rebecca a lot lately."

"I noticed."

"We also chill out with Samantha from impound."

Chris glanced at her face, trying to figure out where she was going with this. "Ok."

Jill shifted on the counter in the semi-darkness. "She told me she's into you."

"Yeah?" He considered that and took a pull on his beer, "She's good lookin. I could probably get into that. You weird with it?"

Yes.

"No. We're friends. If you want to date her or Rebecca, it's ok with me."

Chris nodded. He turned to the fridge to root around for stuff to make a sandwich. "Who are you seeing these days anyway?"

Jill considered him. "Nobody really. I've been kinda flirting with that rookie that you met that day. We talk on the phone a lot. He's up in New York finishing up at the Academy so it's tricky."

Ugh.

Chris sighed and gave up searching for food. He closed the fridge door. "How's that going?"

"Ok. He's funny. Hot. Pretty."

"Yep. Totally your type."

"That's the rumor."

Chris set his beer down on the counter. It was dark in the house but getting cooler by the minute. In the war of Chris Redfield versus the air conditioner the score was: Chris -1 Air Conditioner – 0.

He was a little drunk, a little tired, and a little sick of the weird vibes between them. So, he stopped being polite. He said, "What are you here for, Jill? Dogs in the bedroom if that's what you came for."

Jill set down her beer on the counter beside her. "I came to see Dog."

"Ok." Chris rolled his tight neck and started passed her, "Claire turned your old room into a guest room. So, feel free to stay the night. Dog sleeps in there on the bed anyway."

She watched him head down the hallway toward his room and sat there on the counter, swinging her little cowboy boots.

And then she moved down the hallway after him.

Chris was grabbing a change of clothes from his closet to take to the shower with him. She came up behind him and slid her hand into those soft pants he loved so much. She slid her hand around him and made a little sound of surprise. He made a small gasp.

Because he was already hard.

Her voice was so hoarse when she said, "Are you hard for me?"

She put her cheek against his sweaty back to hear the rumble of his chest when his low voice answered her, utterly quiet, "I'm always hard for you."

Jesus. She ached for him.

She started to move her hand. She started to milk his eager body. Chris spread his hands on the wall in front of him. He stayed there while she curled against his back and touched him. "I came to see Dog…"

She was whispering while she tugged at his need. She felt his body shiver while her free hand slid around his hip and tugged. And those soft pants spilled into a puddle on the floor. "And take a ride on the freight train."

She put her teeth against his slick back and he was salty. Salty. The scent of him made her damp in her panties. He'd never be a man that glistened. He was too big, too hairy, too much. He was just sweaty, just slick, and just right.

She could feel his resist her and hated it. His voice was shaky when he rasped, "It's a bad idea, Jill. Cheese and rice, you gotta stop."

"…I can't." She almost moaned it. And killed them both. Her hand slid up his sweaty chest, tugged a little at the hair on his pecs, and settled over his racing heart. She nipped along his spine while he leaned on the wall, breathing sharp and fast. On her tip toes, she put her mouth against his ear and curled against his back like a kitten. "Say yes."

Her milking hand dragged a grunt from him and a shaky breath.

He shuddered in her arms and thrilled her.

And then he turned.

He might have said stop. He might have said stop again. But she was in that little denim dress and those boots. And the dress was open like a dress shirt around her very naked body.

She'd come over in boots, a little dress, and utterly bare beneath it.

She'd come over for a booty call.

Cheese and rice.

He grabbed her so fast it stole her breath. She gasped, shocked, and he threw her against the dresser. It hurt. Her knees hit the old wood and rattled.

She barely grabbed the dresser to hold on and he jerked up her dress, fisted his hand in it, kicked her legs apart like he'd frisk her, and drove his fingers into her body. She shouted, she bucked, and she fucked back against his invading digits.

Jill couldn't do anything but watch his face in the mirror. His face. He looked so…angry? No. Not angry. Feral. He looked feral. Like a beast. Or a hungry wolf. Or something.

He jerked her dress down her arms and threw it away. One hand fisted in her hair and the other kept on thrusting into her body. In, out, in, out and he smeared that slick, creamy, wetness up her crevice and all over her quivering little butt. His hand came down and smacked. He smacked her perfect little bubble butt while she let out a silent shout.

He started to grab a condom from the dresser drawer. She slapped her hand over the drawer to keep it closed. "Don't be stupid. Fuck me. I didn't come here for a fucking gentlemen. Do it."

"Jesus." He gritted it out between his teeth as he watched her skin pinken from his spanking. "This what you want? You want me to treat you like a whore?"

"Yes. Freight train. Yes." She held his eyes now in the mirror. "Yes."

"Yeah." She'd come for a booty call. So, he'd fuck her like some nameless slut. So, he'd stuff her full of his cock and watch her buck and scream. That's what he was to her now. Her booty call. It tried to hurt him, which surprised him.

And then she moaned, mewled, and said, "Please. Chris. Now."

In that moment, watching her beg for it…he didn't care. He didn't care about anything but splitting her open and watching her scream.

He slapped her thighs open further and grabbed her perfect ass in both hands. He opened her enough to watch the slide of him as she angled at her tight, slick, needy little hole and pushed his way in. She gasped, she jerked, she bucked…and her body sucked him in like a mouth.

The mirror reflected back the wide open O of her mouth, her flushed face, her hooded eyes. She watched him. She grabbed the dresser to support herself as he kicked her legs open wider to take him. He rolled her taut little cheeks in his fists, kneading her, spreading her to see her slick crevice and her tight little hole. And the sight of him invading her throbbing cunt.

God.

He was torn between obsessed need for her and hate for all of it.

Because there was no love here. There was just fucking. And she was so much more than that.

But she was mewling. Mewling. Mewling.

So, he hooked a thumb into her tight little hole, watched her bow and shout, and he shoved his enormous cock into her sucking little pussy at the same time. He stuffed both her little holes while she bucked and fought against it and came around him. She came. She came wet and riding and raw. She came shouting his name.

And he started fucking her. Fucking her like all the girls in his life he'd drilled and never loved. He stopped thinking about her like Jill Valentine, his best friend, his other piece, and started thinking about her as a hole that needed filled. Fucking her like he didn't love her.

She was open for him now. She was slick and wet from her orgasm. He spilled a hand over her body and smeared it all over her ass while he worked his thumb into her ass and his dick eased in and out of her hot sheath. She was ready.

Freight train, she'd said.

So be it.

He hooked an arm under her hips, popped his thumb out of her little hole, and pulled her off his thrusting cock. She made a gasp of relief to be empty so sharply and he tossed her on the bed on her back. She bounced, shuddering, and he shoved her onto her belly again.

His hands jerked her hips up and it made her body like a teepee for him. It put her ass up in the air obscenely, like an offering. One hand gripped roughly into her hair and the other grabbed her hip to jerk her back on him. He impaled her, sharp, sharp, hard. She screamed. She screamed and met the slap of his body with her own. His balls made a meaty wet sound as they struck her slippery slit. He went hilt deep, ground there, and jerked out to ride in again.

And then he gave her what she'd come for…he freight trained into her body while they both gasped. He grunted, he groaned and she moaned, crying out, as he found that spot in her body and hammered it like mad. It would have been just dirty, just fucking and sucking and nothing…but she leaned up.

Jill leaned up, curled her body back against his hammering, and turned her head. He made a sound and slid out of her body. He grabbed her chin and rolled her to face him. She crushed their torsos together and filled his mouth with her tongue.

Gasping, he ground out, "Shit…"

And threw her to her back on the bed.

She opened her legs, he collapsed atop her, and plowed into her. Jill screamed, high and loud. No painful scream this time. No. This was all pleasure. It was all need.

They slapped together, wet, fast, hard. She grabbed his hips to urge him on. He spread her legs by grabbing her knees to hold her open for him. He pushed those knees back and angled her body up to take more of him.

She cried out, "Kiss me!"

And he did that too. He dropped his mouth and kissed her. And he couldn't stop. Couldn't stop any of it. Because he had to give her all of it. And he gasped into her mouth, "Jill..Jill…fuck…"

And she laughed breathily. "We are. We are. Oh god. Hurry. Now. GOD."

She cried out as he dropped one hand and flicked her throbbing, throbbing, throbbing clit with his thumb. Twice. Just twice. And she started coming. She tightened around him like a vice. He grunted, shuddered, and jerked out of her sucking body.

She made a sound, bowing, and he flipped her over. She mewled and he spread her little bottom again, hooked his thumb into her eager little ass again, and came, he came, spurting and jerking all over that heart shaped ass of hers. He painted her perfect pink ass white with stripes of him.

And then he smeared it around with his pumping dick.

Without another sound, he collapsed beside her.

She lay on her face, panting, panting, panting.

She turned her head to him. He was watching her and breathing hard and fast.

She said, "You want me to go?"

The silence was long and loud. She felt it echo and hurt her. He felt it echo and hurt him. But he shook his head. He shook his head no.

So she stayed.

And they fell asleep watching each other.