"You alright?" Sam took Carol's hands between his, rubbing to warm them up. She lifted her head, gazing into his concerned eyes.
"That wasn't really them, was it?" She'd meant to tell him that she dealt with weird stuff all the time, doombots and skrulls and mad scientists, but instead she's voiced her biggest fear. Too many people had died in her past, by her hands or by others, some who deserved it and some who didn't. The faces haunted her dreams, and now they'd walked into this case. "Some kind of energy?"
"Don't let it get to you. It's magic, playing on our own doubts." Sam assured her. "Come on. We're both soaked and a hot shower will help. There's not much we can do until the sun comes up."
He pulled her up to her feet and she went with him. She was cold in her wet jeans and squelching shoes, but it was the thought of Sam in that big shower with her that really warmed her up.
"You're right," she agreed, lifting up on her toes, curling her hands around his neck and drawing his face down to hers. "You're going to join me, right?" She kissed him, the way she'd been daydreaming about, hands carding through his long hair as she pressed her lips to his; she loved the feel of the silky strands between her fingers, and how he sighed as her thumbs grazed the side of his face.
"It's just that I've had pretty bad luck with the last few women." Sam's hands were on her waist, and he was so serious as he looked at her. "Actually, women in general. You saw two of them tonight, in fact."
He was hesitant. She sensed that. "Okay." She stepped back and held out her hand. "Let's try full disclosure. I'm Carol. A few years ago, I was caught in an explosion and infused with the DNA of an alien race. Before that I used to be in the Air Force and worked for the government. I'm a massive nerd, love Star Wars and the Lord of the Rings, and have a cat named Chewbacca."
Sam laughed, his face lighting with amusement. "Well, then, I'm Sam Winchester. Been psychic, possessed by a demon, and kill monsters for a living. Last woman I slept with turned out to be a goddess. And I like organic food and almost became a lawyer."
"A lawyer? That might be a deal breaker, I'm afraid." Carol caught his hand. "But I'll overlook it. Want to take a hot shower with me?"
"Sound like a plan to me," Sam answered.
Hot and quick, they grabbed each other; Carol unbuttoned Sam's shirt and pulled it off, Sam tugged at the hem of Carol's tee. Their hands touched everywhere, lips meeting and parting in a rapid series of kisses, a flurry of breathy little moans as they gave in to the long build-up of tension. She traced the outlines of his muscular stomach as he ran his mouth down the side of her neck, sucking in circles of skin as he went; he caught her waist and held on as she ducked her head and licked a stripe across his chest ending at his nipple, dragging it inside her mouth. Impatient, she wanted all of it, naked bodies, deep kisses, the feel of him inside of her.
"Wait, wait, just a second," she pushed back and looked around the room. "Where's my bag? Damn it. No, no, no, I think I left it outside in the hallway." She had dropped it when Sam activated the sigil she suddenly remembered. "Fuck."
"It's okay." Sam pulled his wallet out of his jeans pocket. "I stuck some in earlier. After you kissed me. In the car. Just in case." Three familiar packets were in his hand as he tossed the wallet on the far bed.
"Boy scout." Carol linked her arms around his neck. "Thank god. I'd hate to have to draw all those damn symbols again."
Sam laughed at her. "You'd have gone out there for a condom?"
"Damn straight, hunter boy." She nipped at his neck, and he groaned as she let her breasts tease his chest. "I'd kick some magic ass for you."
"Damn, Carol." Sam's eyes glazed as she lifted herself onto her toes and rubbed her hips against the hard line of his cock. They were both lost then; belts unhooked, pants pulled down and off, shoes kicked into the corner as they grappled to kiss as much skin as possible, bodies tangling together. They made it into the bathroom, Sam somehow turning on the water without taking his hand off of Carol's breast; she managed to unroll the condom onto him, fingers provoking retaliatory bites on her shoulder. Then her back was flush with the tiled wall, the steam from the water's heat instantly condensing into droplets all over her skin; she lifted her legs around his waist, tightening them as he slid inside of her. Honest-to-god, she'd been ready since this morning when she'd seen him without his shirt; the whole day had been just one endless frustrating session of foreplay. That damn plaid shirt, his long hair brushing over the collar, the way he'd tasted when she'd kissed him in that sex-on-wheels car. It had all been leading up to this, the way he filled her, so big, so good, rocking his hips into hers at an almost lazy pace. His breath ghosted over her ear and down her neck as he rested his forehead on her shoulder and began to thrust, hands spanning her hips, fingers brusingly firm as he held on. The buzz of intensity that had hummed just below the surface since they'd met moved up from her gut to her chest and her throat, vibrating down to her toes, shaking her core and the place where they were joined in the most intimate of ways. There was nothing to do but let the orgasm take her, bursting up and out quickly; she closed her eyes as the sensation enveloped her. Time lengthened, and the world constricted to Sam's groans, his hands flexing in anticipation, his chest brushing her aching nipples, the completeness as he came with shudders of his own. The water kept falling, but Carol was out of the stream; a shiver settled over her, body cooling down. Taking her as if she weighted nothing, Sam turned until the water covered them both, kissing her, easy and slow. He steadied her as she eased her legs down.
"Your feet aren't on the floor." He glanced down; Carol realized she was floating a few inches up, making kissing him easier. With a start, she settled down on the tile.
"Sorry." She knew that her abilities tended to freak guys out in the most mundane of situations. Sam had taken the whole flying get away earlier in stride, but during sex?
"Hey, no problem. Kind of nice not to have to bend over so much," he grinned as he spoke, running a hand along the line of her wet hair. "Sorry that was so fast. You've been winding me up all day."
"Well, you'll just have to make it up to me on the second round … or the third." 'Cause, hell yes, there was going to be more. They had a whole night to wait out.
"I think I can manage that now that we're warmed up." He smiled and part of her heart melted at the look. Damn. She had it bad.
…
"Clint, talk to me!" Dean couldn't see the other man in the rearview mirror, and he couldn't chance taking his eyes off the road as he took the turn into the entrance too fast, tires squealing. He'd heard the slam when Clint's head hit the window's edge while leaning out to blast salt rounds; Dean had swerved to avoid a car stopped at a light and had heard nothing since then. He had to slow as he approached the open black gates, rolling in behind a mini-van, and one of the men he didn't recognize reached for the open window, pulling himself in, hand outstretched.
"You can keep killing me, Clint, but I'll always come back." A groan followed by a sharp inhale came from the back seat; the hand connected and Clint cursed loudly in pain. They crossed the threshold, passing between the white marble towers onto the road that wound through the manicured green lawns marked with row upon row of white stones. A scream ripped through the car as the figure dematerialized, bursting into a million sparkling motes that faded into the air around them.
"Hang on." Dean drove through the lines of graves, turning away from the tourist areas to find a quiet place to hide the car.
"Maintenance buildings. Northwest corner." Clint pushed himself up, holding his shoulder at an odd angle. Blood rolled down one side of his face. "Parking lot there for workers. Probably our best bet. Just try to avoid any bumps if you can."
Dean made short work of finding a spot along the side of a building that housed lawnmowers, under the shade of a spreading oak tree. Backing in, he cut the engine and grabbed the first aid kit; he was out of the driver's door and in the back seat in a flash. Clint hunched over, but managed to give Dean a lopsided grin. Rolling up the window, Dean caught Clint's chin and turned his face into the light.
"It's not as bad as it looks," Clint argued, but he flinched when Dean's fingers probed the area. "Having a hard skull can be useful. Scalp wounds just bleed like a bitch." Antiseptic wipes were in the kit, so Dean cleaned off the blood, closing the open gash with a small butterfly bandage.
"Okay, let's see that shoulder." Dean ordered.
"Bossy, aren't you?" Clint tried to take off his jacket, but the movement caused him to grimace; Dean ended up helping, waiting until Clint's left arm was free to pull the right arm out and toss the jacket into the front seat. Even with Clint's shirt still on, Dean could see a bright red patch of skin on his forearm, roughly hand shaped, and a darkening bruise already forming at the edge of his sleeve. "At least it's not my firing arm." Clint groaned as Dean made him lift his arm to take off his shirt; the bruising continued all along Clint's shoulder blade, red and scraped raw in places.
"Damn, dude, that's going to hurt like the devil tomorrow." He dug through the kit for a small jar of salve. "This will take some of the sting out. One of Bobby's friends makes it." He angled himself so his back rested in the corner, and he turned Clint to reach his back. Taking a dollop of the smelly stuff – peppermint warred with arnica and the scent of thyme – Dean started rubbing the area as gently as possible; Clint grunted and recoiled slightly.
"I'm going to smell like Christmas," Clint complained, but he shifted back and started to relax.
"Is that a burn?" Dean nodded to Clint's arm. "There's some ointment in the kit." Clint took the offering and slathered some white cream over the red area.
"It's where Barney touched me. The jacket took some of the brunt of the damage." Tension seeped back into Clint's neck and shoulders at the name. "What the hell were those things, anyway? Not ghosts. The Impala's got enough metal to disperse one, but that thing just … flowed … over it."
"Never seen anything like them." Dean's fingers worked the salve in, easy and light. "I don't think they were the people they looked like though; it's more like something was wearing their faces."
"Well the spell was aimed at us specifically, and those were people we knew; we've pissed off someone recently," Clint rolled his neck and dug a couple pain killers out of the kit, swallowing them dry. "So, basically, situation normal."
Dean chuckled; it was true. Every time the two of them were together things seemed to go to hell in a hand basket fast. He wasn't sure he'd know what to do if they weren't fighting weres or gods or strange magical creatures; nah, he did know. They'd be drinking at some diner, eating a juicy burger and having a slice of pie. Might actually be nice to try that just once.
After a few minutes of quiet, his fingers working out the tightness of Clint's shoulders, Dean asked. "Who's Barney?"
Clint sighed and leaned back, resting against Dean, head falling onto his shoulder. The silence stretched long enough for Dean to wonder if there would be any answer. "My brother. I killed him." Dean waited, hands skimming up and down Clint's arms. "He got twisted, manipulated by a mad scientist who brought him back from the dead. It wasn't really him. And you're probably the only person I could say that to who'd believe me."
"Yeah, I know. Can't announce 'that's the demon who tortured me in hell standing in the road' to just anyone." Shifting, he straightened his leg out, bringing Clint back fully flush against him. Settling in, Clint's ass bumped and Dean's cock responded, interested in the arrangement.
"That's seriously fucked-up, dude." Clint shook his head in sympathy. "We're a pair, that's for sure."
Silence fell in the car; it was getting darker now, just one street light on the other side of the maintenance lot casting long shadows. Clint's body was warm, heating up Dean's skin, and his brain began to supply possibilities as his hands came to rest on Clint's thighs. Finally, Clint turned his head to look at Dean. "Never actually been parking before, you know. Fast hand jobs behind the trailers, but no backseat shenanigans."
"No one ever asked you to watch the submarine races? That was one of my best lines, dude. Got my first blow job in this very car." Dean joked, hands rubbing idly back and forth. "Want to hear the story?"
"I'm not going anywhere." Clint drew his knee up on the seat, getting comfortable. "Let me guess. An older, experience woman took mercy on a charming little Dean Winchester."
"Paula Sue Felton. 17. Hotel owner's daughter. One night when Dad went out drinking, we snuck out to the car after Sammy went to sleep. I thought I was in heaven when she let me touch her breasts; small and perfect, and I was in awe of her when she put those rosy red lips on me." As he talked, Dean slid his hands up onto the smooth skin of Clint's waist, fingers drawing feather light circles. "Best 14th birthday present ever. You?"
Clint's hand covered Dean's, tracing his fingers. "I don't know her name, I'm ashamed to say. She came looking for Barney after a show but he'd already left with another girl. I guess I was sloppy seconds; I didn't mind at the time." He moved their hands together, down, a slow drag over the bulge in his jeans. "Now my first time with a guy? Matt Belinni, one of the great flying Belinnis, acrobats. Stole a bottle of gin from Matt's dad, and we got completely drunk. Barney was stuck on some girl who could care less about him, and he kept going on and on about her until he passed out. Matt crawled over to me and, damn, the guy knew what he was doing, that's for sure." Clint pressed up into Dean's hand, and the little intake of breath Clint made was hot as hell, so Dean ground the heel of his hand along the ridge of Clint's inseam and was reward with another sigh.
"You liked it, did you?" Dean asked; the air in the car was charged now with their conversation and the growing tension.
"That was the start of a very interesting summer of experiments. We were so scared someone would find out; Matt's dad was very old world when it came to sexuality." It was Dean's turn to sigh as Clint's hands ran up his thighs, thumbs on the inside, leaving a heated trail as they went. "Your first guy?"
"A dare. Twin cheerleaders, if you can believe it. We'd done some shots of tequila and smoked a few joints – all mellow and high – and I wanted to watch them make out. They promised they would if I'd let one of their boyfriends suck me off." Popping open the button of Clint's jeans, Dean pulled the zipper down, pushing the denim as Clint lifted his hips. "Commando? Really?" Clint's cock was thick and red, and Dean gently stroked the head with the tips of his fingers.
"Not much choice this morning …." Clint broke off when Dean's thumb dragged along the shaft, and his fingers teased, making Clint even harder.
"Anyway, we went first, and the dude was obviously pretty experienced; sad to say the girls reneged and left us alone. I think we got so into it that it freaked them out." Damn but Clint's attempts to keep his moans quiet turned him on and made Dean rub his own cock further into the cleft of Clint's ass.
"Couldn't handle your universal charm, eh?" Clint turned his head and buried into Dean's neck, holding on to Dean's thighs as the stroking continued. Leaning over, Dean picked up the tube of lube from the medical kit on the floor; he spread some on his hand and curled his fingers all the way around Clint's cock, lifting it and pumping up and down. "God, Dean," Clint flat out groaned.
"You want to hear about the best fuck I've ever had?" Dean dropped his voice to a husky whisper now, loathe to disturb the quiet of the graveyard around them; his hand didn't stop even when Clint wrapped his fingers around Dean's and joined him.
"Seriously?" Clint's mouth was on Dean's neck, sucking in little bits of skin, leaving a new set of marks alongside the fading ones from yesterday. "Yes. Hell. Keep talking."
"There was this guy. Kissed me in a damn alleyway, would you believe it? In the middle of a fight, no less. Been a long time since I had a guy, and he just sat me down on his lap and fucked me until I couldn't see straight." Dean let Clint speed up as he strained upwards, breaths growing harsh and ragged. "Don't worry though. I got to sink myself deep inside him the next morning, and a couple times after that. Once right on the hood of this car; held him down and fucked him until he came all over the paint job."
"Dean," Clint moaned; Dean wrapped an arm around Clint's waist and tilted him back, their hands working together.
"And the best part? Turns out he has this thing about fucking in public, lots of windows, where anyone could walk by and see us, could hear him when he comes …"
"Son-of-a-bitch." Clint grimaced as his body tightened, and he climaxed, hips jerking as he covered their hands and spattered on to his stomach. His eyes fluttered closed for a few seconds, and his fingers relaxed their hold on Dean's leg. "Best fuck ever? Really?"
"Okay, maybe top three. I'll give you that. Don't get cocky or anything." Reaching down, Dean grabbed a package of baby wipes, took one and handed it to Clint who shrugged and took it.
"Me? Cocky?" He wiggled his ass against Dean's still hard cock and pushed up, forgetting his shoulder and arm; he hissed before Dean caught him and sat them both up, sliding over to the middle of the seat.
"Here," Dean said. "Lean forward onto the back of the seat and rest your shoulder." Clint laid his head on his left arm, wiggling his jeans down to the floor, earning a light smack on his ass as Dean didn't even bother to resist the urge to grind unabashedly against Clint, enjoying the friction. His mouth found the line of Clint's spine, kissing his way down, knob by knob; opening his jeans, Dean tugged them off, arching up to slide them over his hips. Sensitive cock grazed against Clint's skin, and Dean fumbled for the tube to cover his fingers with the slippery gel. One hand lifted Clint up as the other fingers circled, teasing, before one pushed passed the tightness, easing in slowly. He kissed Clint again, running his tongue into the indentations in the shallow curve of his back as he opened Clint up, taking his time. One finger and Clint was already moaning, pushing back into Dean's hand for more. Two and Dean twirled them as he shifted in and out, Clint bucking his hips when the tips brushed against the right spot. Three, and Dean 's arm wrapped around Clint's hips, holding him still, fingers spreading him out, readying Clint's body.
"Dean, damn," Clint cursed when Dean's fingers pulled out to unroll the condom and slather on more lube. Holding his cock with one hand, Dean guided Clint down onto him, slow and controlled, little bit by little bit. Clint used the front seat for leverage, until he was all the way down on Dean's lap.
"Arm okay?" Dean managed to ask, waiting to see if Clint was comfortable. Reaching his right arm around Clint, Dean braced himself on the front seat as well.
"I'll be fine once you decide to actually fuck me and quit worrying about it." Clint huffed, rising up and sinking back down to get things started. "I hear I'm pretty good at this so…"
"Remind me never to stroke your ego again." Dean laughed; the man was entirely too cheeky, even with Dean's cock inside him. Damn, but he liked that it in a guy. He pulsed out and back in, still slow, and was rewarded when Clint circled his hips and settled further down. Holding onto Clint with his left hand, the seat with his right, Dean let the rhythm build, picking up speed, and he and Clint fell into the dance of up and down, thrust and retreat, bodies meeting at just the right moment only to fall away and do it all again. There were no sounds in the car but stifled moans, panting, Dean's litany of curses, and skin hitting skin as they worked at it, rising to a fever pitch. Dean felt the familiar coil in his gut that signaled his own climax, and he shifted slightly, changed the angle to go as deep as he could in his last few thrusts. When he came, it was a wave released; he fell forward onto Clint's back, sweaty cheek against sweaty skin.
"You missed the late worker." Clint's voice rumbled. "Crossed the parking lot about the time you were coming so noisily."
Dean's head came up and he peered at the lot. Sure enough, an empty spot was under the street light where a sedan had been earlier. "Why didn't you say something?"
"What? Hey Dean, stopping chanting 'fuck, fuck, fuck' and calling my name 'cause some dude's heading home? He was all the way across the lot and wouldn't be able to see us since he was in the light." Clint eased himself upright, sliding off of Dean and dropping to the seat next to him. "Besides, I was too busy getting fucked in the backseat of an Impala … in Arlington National Cemetery to boot … to worry about it."
"Hey, cemeteries are like a second home to me." Dean said. "At least I'm not digging up any graves. This is much more enjoyable."
…
She felt the heat of the flames on her back, reveling in the destruction around her; watching order fall to chaos was orgasmic for her, never more so than when a man, deluded about his own abilities, was kneeling at her feet. He had fought her, literally, with his teeth and talons, shifting forms to find the best hold – but none of it mattered to her. Magic was magic, power was power – all came from the same source, the well of pure discord that fueled her. It was like turning fire upon fire; she merely rewove it and sent it back triple fold.
"Who are you?" The man once known as King Lycaon asked, still defiant to the bitter end. "What do you want?"
"Just taking what once was mine. You petty kings and gods and monsters … so drunk on power, living on borrowed time. Well, I'm back and it's time to get my house in order." She trailed a finger down his cheek; an icy blue streak cracked in its wake. "Do you know what the void is like? They say it's icy, frozen nothingness. But it's also mind-melting heat, fire that burns hot enough to change your very essence." Another finger, this time the smell of burning flesh. "You have long forgotten what was locked away, told yourselves I'm just a dream, a myth. I'm not."
"No," his eyes widened as he looked at her, the sweet face of a young woman contorted with the vengeful drive of pure hatred. "That's just a story."
"You should have worked with me, let me use your wolves." She wrapped her hand around his neck, bending down until their faces were level. "I might have let them survive at least. But you? You've long ago outlived your usefulness."
Lucas Kaniedes felt every painful second as his life drained out, all the way down to the very essence that kept him alive for so long, taking the magic that had changed him until nothing was left. Like a heady wine, it all flowed back into her, her own strength growing. Her hand stayed clenched long after the man was nothing but a husk, falling into ash; flames licked at her skirt, and, suddenly, her body gave out. Stumbling slightly, she kicked his corpse, and it drifted into tiny brown motes of dead skin and powdered bone, scattering into the fire. The half-human part of Tessa Black was fading, unable to handle the demands. Summoning up the right spell, she took herself outside where she could watch the building burn, hear the screams of the last people trapped inside, her plan changing.
She would find these humans who defied gravity, knew the language of the angels, faced their fears so easily, and refused to realize they were already defeated. Find them and deal with them herself. It was time to trade up.