Bending to Break

Chapter 2

The large custom built engine of the black Chevy Impala roared as it skidded precariously through the dimly lit streets of the Sunnydale suburbia. The heavy steel sound of AC/DC blared out from the speakers, but neither Buffy nor Dean heard it. If Buffy had been in her right mind (which she wasn't), she would have protested and argued that they find something a bit less like heavy metal, and more rock.

Wind ripped through the interior of the cab, Buffy's hair whipping against her reddened cheeks as she stared numbly out of the window. Nothing made sense. Buffy tired to remember, tried to force some thought into her head, but she couldn't. Her body trembled as if she was cold, but she wasn't. She was hot, too hot, like there was a fire consuming her. Aftershocks rippled through her, whispering delights of pleasure in her ear as Buffy felt each heavy pulse of her heart between her legs.

Beside her, Dean blinked, feeling the same heavy press of pulsing blood through his veins. Where she throbbed, he ached. Every pore of his body was aroused, sensitive, and thrumming from his climax. His knuckles whitened from his tight grip on the thin black steering wheel, and Dean blew out a deep breath of air. Home, he needed to be home. His heavy boot clad foot pressed harder on the gas pedal, making his car speed faster down the road.

Dean was on autopilot, moving without thinking. How they had gotten from point A to point B was lost in the translation. Everything was hazy, yet so unbelievably clear that he couldn't make sense of it. He could sense Buffy beside him, her hair blowing around her face. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips were still swollen. Dean could feel her heart pounding in her chest as if it was his own. He could smell the sweet nectar of her arousal that still lingered on his fingers. He felt it… felt it in his own blood.

Everything inside of him was chaotic and blurred; the exact opposite of what Dean saw when he looked out the window. It was a clear night, the bright stars shining and shimmering against the black backdrop. There was a faint hint of rain that lingered in the air, and Dean could feel that moisture all throughout his body. It was cool out, no breeze, but it was October and the leaves were starting to transform to a nice rusty orange with the change in weather.

Despite the wind that the moving car generated, Dean felt hot. His skin was crawling, itching, and there was an unbelievable smoldering sensation that he felt tickling against his spine. Dean turned onto Revello Drive and pulled to a stop in the driveway at the Scooby Central and put his car in park before cutting the engine.

Buffy blinked, her hair a mass of tangled curls that made her look wild and untamed. Her breathing was shallow and labored as she slowly turned her mossy eyes on Dean. Everything was so unclear except for him. Him, she could make out in striking clarity. She watched with longing as his tongue, pink and smooth, moved over his lower lip and Buffy remembered how divine his mouth had felt against her neck.

His hair, a nice golden brown, was short and glistened with just a faint hint of gel he'd put in it to make it stand in small spikes. Her hands itched to scratch against his scalp, to hold his head to her breast while he devoured her. His jaw twitched, like he was grinding teeth, and Buffy felt a sudden need to feel him move through her.

"Gods..." Buffy panted, drawing a finger down the middle of her chest that lit a fiery trail of uncontrollable desire within her, "I feel so... so..."

The desire flickered, multiplied and Dean could feel himself harden at the look of pure, unadulterated lust coming off of Buffy. Dean let go of the steering wheel, leaving moist imprints where his hands had been. Dean rubbed his hands against the coarse material of his jeans, soon regretting the action as the sensation of his own hands sparked an added fire along with the image of replacing his own hands with hers. He looked over at Buffy; his normally hazel eyes a rich vibrant green.

"Hot." Dean supplied, licking his lip erotically in a calculated response to how Buffy had lazily, but deliberately, traced of the outline of her breasts for him with one delicate finger.

And she didn't stop there: her fingers moved lower to smooth over her thigh. Her hand curved, moving against the lithe inner muscle on her leg and up towards the crux of her femininity.

"How did we get here?" Dean asked, forcing his eyes away from her roaming hands and straight into her illuminate depths.

If he thought that by shifting his gaze from her devastatingly alluring body that he would be able to control the rapid surge in his hormones – he had been gravely mistaken. Their eyes met and like a flash of lightening, sudden powerful and demanding, something moved through them. Buffy gasped as if all the air in her lungs had been sucked out. Her hands moved to the edge of her seat and gripped the leather material.

Buffy continued to gasp as though she were drowning; her eyes fluttering as waves of pleasure washed over her. Dean stared (his mouth open) and with a force that seemed entirely beyond his own control, he reached out to touch her. His fingers smoothed over her face until he cupped her cheek and it was then that Buffy finally drew in a rich heavily scented breath. The pad of Dean's thumb moved along her cheek until her reached her full pout-y lips. He drew a finger across her lower lip, pulling it down as he traced the soft skin.

Buffy blinked, sucking his finger into her mouth, her tongue slowly passing over the flesh as she brought it between her teeth. Buffy moaned, tasting herself on his skin as she surrendered to a new wave of bliss. Buffy writhed in her seat, gasping out as Dean's other hand reached across the seat to trail down her neck and arm. The infectious heat of his skin moved over hers; licking like a thousand mouths nibbling at her most tender parts.

"Dean..." Buffy keened around his finger, sucking the digit all the way into her mouth as her hips started to buck in the air.

Dean closed his eyes, and the pleasure that was hers moved through her and into him. He could feel it and it was overwhelming. It was like nothing he could explain. Like nothing that should have been possible.

It was a blinding frenzy of movement, one too quick to see. One second Buffy was in her own seat and the next, she was in his lap, their mouths fused together as Buffy panted and writhed against the hard erection that pressed against her center. Dean's hands were everywhere at once as he thrust his hips against her. He felt her small yet powerful body on top of him, this sensation alone throwing him into cataclysms of ecstasy. With her fingers threaded through his short hair, nails scratching at his scalp, she came unglued just from the passionate lust in their kiss. Their tongues dueled: fighting and playing as rolling waves of pure orgasmic bliss passed between them.

Buffy peaked in his lap, her muscles going stiff as Dean devoured her mouth and rubbed her body against his. He knew nothing except her; knew nothing beside the fact that he needed to be inside of her. He could see it; see his body thrusting into hers. He could even taste it.

Home, he needed to be home.

* * *

There was a light click of keyboard keys tapping combined with the wrinkling of paper as the three occupants in the homey living room sat in a comfortable, familiar silence. Dawn, Buffy’ fifteen year old sister, was curled in an oversized tan chair, her large brown eyes riveted to the glossy pictures in her newest Teen Beat magazine. The teenager gave a despondent sigh of half boredom and half longing as she readjusted her long willowy legs so they hung over the arm of the chair and dangled in the air. She ran a slender hand through the dark brunette locks of her hair, moving the shiny strands over her shoulder as she flipped another page with a crinkle and gushed over a picture of Chad Michael Murray.

On the couch adjacent, a light brown oak coffee table between the two, sat Willow Roseburg, the Scooby’s resident non-practicing witch and Sam Winchester, Dean’s younger demon hunting brother. The gentle curve of Willow’s smile was visible through the wafting steam that rose from the large navy blue cup of chamomile tea that she cradled in both of her hands. There was a certain calmness that washed through her, and Willow couldn’t help but think about how right things felt these days.

Her anger at having lost her soul mate had faded some and was often washed away by the guilt that she lived with over killing Warren and nearly destroying the world. Willow knew she’d never move past that guilt or the magic that was just as much a part of her as was her soul. It would never truly be gone, but she had spent months learning how to channel that energy into other things. She wasn’t one hundred percent, and was still relearning to do things the old fashioned way, without magic, but she and Giles were working on it.

Meditation helped, soothed the power she felt trouncing in her veins, and it was times like these that Willow felt like a great weight had been lifted from her slender shoulders.

Sweet hot herbal tea moved down her throat and Willow tucked her legs beneath her a little tighter as she took another sip from her mug. It had been two months since Dean and Sam had come crashing through Sunnydale with a tome of ancient rituals that had somehow managed to avert an impending apocalypse just seconds before the hell mouth had been opened.

From that moment, when Buffy had knocked the oldest Winchester brother on his ass and pressed her healed boot to his throat while demanding to know just who in the hell he thought he was storming onto her turf, their feuding had been non-stop. Willow cast her olive eyes at Sam, the narrow point of his nose prominent from his profile. It was Dean’s nose, the only striking similarity that she’d found between them. While Sam was younger (by nearly four years) than Dean, he was about three inches taller and about ten pounds lighter.

Dean had light golden brown hair, short and pointed in spikes, where Sam’s was dark and shaggy. Sam’s dark brown hair was straight and at that length where the ends had started to flip out. Willow watched as Sam’s warm coffee eyes narrowed in concentration and his lips pursed up in determination. Every few seconds the rapid tap against his key board would pause so he could push the bangs that hung well below his eyes out of his way.

Sam had seemed to fit right in: like he’d found a niche he hadn’t been looking for. While Dean was mostly all brawn, Sam had an extra intelligence and wit about him. This wasn’t to say the younger Winchester wasn’t strong and that he couldn’t give Dean a run for his money sparring wise. Sam’s real strength was in his mind and the potential that they were just starting to discover.

Even now, Willow could see the wheels turning in his head as he hacked into the cities main frame. But under that, she could also see the burdens: the pain and the loss. Dean with his outlandish charms seemed to live what appeared a carefree danger filled life to the fullest degree possible, while Sam was a bit more reserved. More like her.

Looking at Sam who was now just as part of the team as her or Xander, made her think about Dean and the less than stellar impression he’d made, and continued to make, on Buffy. The thought of Dean and Buffy made Willow’s grin turn into a full-blown smile at the constant bickering that was both annoying and amusing between the two. With every shout (every time Buffy stepped into his face, and Dean pushed right back just as hard), the energy around them crackled.

Giles had told her with an annoyed sigh that if they would use just a fraction of the effort they put into infuriating the other and transferred that it into defeating evil, the world be a safe place and he'd no longer be needed. Through Buffy’s whining and ranting over late night mochas, Willow had tried to get Buffy to admit to any lusty thoughts she might have about Dean. And while Buffy vehemently denied having anything but loathsome irritation for the demon hunter, Willow knew her best friend all too well.

There were the looks Willow caught when Buffy thought no one was looking. There was the spark that filled Buffy’s eyes, and for the first time since Willow could remember, Buffy hadn’t mentioned Angel’s name in weeks.

“What are you smiling about over there?” Sam’s deep voice cut through the silence as he lifted his eyes over the rim of his silver laptop.

His fingers paused on the keyboard, his lips curving upwards as he watched the smile on the red head’s pale oval face brighten. They shared a tender look; one a brother would give a sister they were fond of.

“Just thinking about Dean and Buffy.” Willow sighed, “It’s so romantic.”

“It’s pathetic!” Dawn called out from her seat on the chair, and Willow and Sam couldn’t help but chuckle at her tone, “I mean could Buffy drool any more? Hello, like get a life!”

Sam’s chuckle turned into an honest carefree laugh as he moved a floppy brown lock of hair out of his eyes. “I’d say it’s pathetic alright, but only because my brother is a total moron when it comes to women - Buffy in particular. You'd think he was in elementary school, not twenty-seven.”

“It’s because he’s hot.” Dawn replied as she twisted her head over her shoulder to smile at Sam. “That’s why he acts like a moron, or at least that’s what Buffy says.”

Willow shook her head at the glazed look at passed through Dawn’s eyes in mention to Dean. It wasn't a secret that she had a crush on him.

“I think Dean’s a little too old for you Dawnie.”

Dawn rolled her eyes dramatically, huffing around in her chair so that her back faced the couch once more.

“As if I’d want him anyways. Besides Buffy is the one who gets all the hot guys, I’m not allowed to date, remember? Sam do you think I should dye my hair? Janice dyed her hair this really pretty shade of golden blonde with these really faint brown highlights. Should I do that, ‘cause there is this boy in my homeroom and he gave me this note that said he wanted to ask me out?”

Sam sat back on the sofa, stretching out his long legs under the coffee table as he brought his arms behind his head. He smiled affectionately at Dawn before he turned his head to share a smile at Dawn’s randomness with Willow. It was a trait that the Summers sisters shared.

“Brunettes are way hotter than blondes - just ask Dean he’ll tell you. He can give you a list why brunettes are more fun.” Sam replied with a smirk, “Besides kid, you don’t want to change yourself just to impresses some guy. And about those notes, do I need to pay him a visit? Because I’ll kick his ass you know, I’m bigger than him.” Sam said seriously, feeling protectiveness well inside of him.

“Wonderful,” Dawn whined, “if Xander wasn’t enough, now I’ve inherited two more overprotective brothers. I’m never going to get a date now! And don’t call me kid. I’m almost an adult.”

“Alright, Ms. Almost an Adult, it’s time for bed. You’ve got school in the morning, and it’s almost eleven.” Willow said gently as she set her cup of tea on the table.

It wasn’t a role she liked to play, but with Buffy’s late night patrols and Joyce’s, their mom, death over a year ago, Willow had stepped into the maternal position when Buffy couldn't be there. While she lived in an extra bedroom at Giles apartment, and was no longer officially living at ‘Scooby Central,’ Willow still made sure Dawn brushed her teeth and did her homework.

Dawn rolled of her eyes as she ignored Willow and flipped another page in her magazine.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me Dawnie, Buffy said not to let you stay up past ten, you’ve got a test tomorrow. I already let you stay up this late.”

“Come on Wills, just another half an hour.” Dawn’s voice dropped down an octave giving way to genuine concern, “I just want to make sure Buffy and Dean make it back alright.”

Sam and Willow shared a sad smile; it was a casualty of the job, you never knew when or what to expect.

“Dawn you know Dean would never let anything happen…” Sam paused, blinking in a wave of chaos that rolled through him. It lasted just a second and he shook it off, continuing, “… to Buffy. He might act like he doesn’t like her…”

Both Willow and Dawn looked at each other, and then at Sam as he brought a hand up to the side of his head. He rubbed at his temple in a slow smooth circle as his eyes scrunched up. Willow moved closer, placing a very gentle hand on Sam’s arm.

“What is it Sam?”

Sam shook his head, his hair rustling with the motion, “I’m not sure… when I just said that, I got this feeling. I just… I can’t…” He said in confusion as he tried to shake off the sudden emotions that washed through him.

Something wasn’t right.

“Its okay Sam, just breath like Giles showed you. Concentrate on the feeling and see where it takes you, don’t fight it.” Willow said slowly as she gave him a reassuring squeeze.

Dawn was sitting straight up in the chair, her magazine thrown to the ground as she watched Sam relax the muscles in his body. He sat there, completely still, and Dawn couldn’t help the worry she felt bubbling in her chest.

“Earlier tonight, I felt something but I shrugged it off because it didn’t really make sense. I didn’t say anything, I’m still new at all this premonition stuff, but now I’m feeling it stronger.”

“Can you describe it?” Willow soothed as she tried to help him focus.

Sam shook his head, “It’s hot. I don’t know how else to explain it. I just feel all this heat and this consuming pit inside my stomach. The more I focus on it, the stronger it feels. Something isn’t right Willow. I don’t think they are hurt, but something is definitely wrong.” Sam said suddenly serious.

A screech of tires broke the tense silence, and it wasn’t just Willow who breathed a relieved sigh when the familiar sound of Dean’s car came to sputtering silence. Willow smiled, her eyes shining as she removed her hand from Sam’s arm.

“See, its okay. They’re home, must have been a slow night. Maybe you just sensed Dean coming back; you’ve been doing that a lot lately.” Willow smiled, “You have that uncanny knack for knowing just when he’s about to burst through the door.”

"With an angry slayer in tow," Sam chuckled with the release of tension, and with that, the consuming bite in his stomach faded away.

Dawn piped up from chair as she made her way to the blinds to peak out the window, “You only know Dean’s coming because you can hear him arguing with my sister from about a mile away… and ewwww!!!” Dawn shrieked jumping back from the window, “They are like totally making out! Oh my God, gross! I’ve gotta call Janice!”

“I knew she liked him!” Willow cried out, “See Sam, you were right - they were just all with the lust bunnies, that’s what you felt.”

Sam shook his head, “Okay I’m going to go with the kid on this one, ‘ewwww’!”

Dawn moved back to the window, peaking out in morbid curiosity as she pressed her nose to the window. A faint mist of moisture from her heated breath fogged the windows, and Dawn frowned when she couldn’t see anything anymore.

“Alright Dawnie, that’s enough. Give them some privacy.”

“Give them a room is more like it! I swear they are like all over each other. You’d think they were dying in there the way they are kissing.”

Willow was about to laugh until she looked over at Sam who got a perplexed look on the narrow shape of his face.

“It's happening again Willow, that feeling... Something is not right and this time I know it.”

* * *

Blindly Dean threw open his car door and dragged the writhing slayer with him, mindless to anything that wasn't them. They moved as one, feet tripping and scrambling against one another, mouths never unfastening as they maneuvered their way to the house.

As they moved Buffy's hand fought with his jacket, pushing it down and off his arms as he walked her backwards up the drive way and onto the porch. The heavy jacket landed on the covered entrance, discarded and forgotten as Buffy moved her hands over the taut muscles on arms, chest and back all seemingly at once. She needed him; needed his flesh under her fingers.

Dean wrapped his arms around Buffy’s back, hugging her slight frame to him, his hands underneath her shirt so he could feel her skin to skin. Their chests were flush and they could feel their racing pulse in each other's veins, the shared rhythm anchoring them to each other. Dean kept moving forward until Buffy's back collided against the first solid object that he could use as leverage. That object happened to be the front door, and the thud as her head banged against the wood resonated throughout the interior of the house.

Without missing a beat, Dean threaded a hand through her blonde silky locks, pushing his hard aroused erection between her thighs. He drew her head away from the door and to the side as he slid his mouth over the curve of her jaw. His kisses were hot and insistent against her neck while he suckled on a sensitive point right below her ear.

Buffy keened against him, and didn't think twice when he urged her to move her legs around his waist. His hands were there, cupping her ass and smoothing up her back as their lips met once more.

Dean moved his hands up her tight black top, drawing the material up as he went. They only separated (panting, eyes heavy with desire), for a moment so that he could pull the material up and over her head. He threw it; mindless to where they were, and who could see them.

Buffy shook her head free of falling blonde hair, welcoming Dean's hand as he smoothed the stray locks out of her face so he could devour her mouth once more. The stubble on his cheek and chin rasped against her smooth skin, abrasive and arousing as Buffy hugged the blossoming heat of Dean against her.

Nothing mattered; nothing but being joined; nothing but extinguishing the fire that raged through them.

The door they were leaning against gave way, and Dean didn't even flinch as he and Buffy tumbled inside ungracefully. Their mouths were still fused and Dean's hands were now busy fumbling with the stubborn clasp on her bra.

They were ignorant to the gasps of shock as Dean regained his balance and pushed forward with a topless slayer in his arms. Buffy moaned loudly when one of Dean's hands moved between them to cup a breast, drawing another gasp of shock from their audience. Buffy's hand fumbled between them, nimbly working the leather belt from the buckle before she pulled it out of the loops.

Buffy got it free and before she the belt hit the ground, her fingers were already working on the button fly of his jeans.

"Dean?" Sam asked incredulously, his mouth hung open as he watched his brother and the Slayer move towards the stairs with a littering trail of clothes in their wake.

"Oh my god!" Dawn shrieked, "are they like gonna do it right here? ‘Cause, I’m already scarred!"

Willow didn't waste a second before she slapped a hand over Dawn's eyes, pulling the lanky brunette out of harms way as Dean plunged forward, mindless of who or what was in the way.

Sam called out again, concern rich in the deep tones of his voice, "Dean, man, can you hear me? What the hell is going on? Focus Dean."

Neither Buffy nor Dean answered, and by the time Willow snapped out of her shock, they were half way up the stairs and kissing like they really would die if they separated.

"Sam you were right, something's wrong. Their energy it’s..." Willow stammered - her pale cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment.

Sam looked over at the red head, his eyes darting between the witch and Dean who now had Buffy pressed against a wall at the top of the stairs. Sam saw a flash of golden flesh and a hint of rose-colored nipple as Dean threw Buffy's black lace bra to the ground and then bent to cover the areola with his mouth. Sam blinked in astonishment, frozen, as Buffy thrust her hand inside of Dean’s pants.

Sam pivoted on one foot, quickly turning from the sight as he slammed his eyes shut as tight as they would go.

"You don't say!" Sam exclaimed, and was too afraid to open his eyes, even though he knew he couldn't see anything with is back turned to them. After a few seconds and lots of deep breathing Sam reopened them, "What where you saying about their energy?"

Dawn giggled beneath Willow's hand, moving it out of her way as she opened her eyes only to snap them shut. "Is that... I mean is he? Why is her hand down his pants…? Oh my God, she’s not… is she?" Dawn stammered, blushing from the roots of her hair down as she too turned her back and slapped a hand over her eyes. “Okay I’m having nightmares for the rest of my life.”

“Gods yes Dean - please I need to feel you. I’m hot… so damn hot. Bring me Dean… please bring me…” Buffy keened loudly, forcing Dawn to slap her hands over her ears instead of her tightly clenched eyes.

“And now I’m like deaf! Ewwwww. Make 'em stop Sam.”

"Okay we need Giles here now." Willow squeaked, moving as quickly as she could towards the phone.

At the top of the stairs, Dean laved the breast he had in his mouth, his teeth nibbling against the flesh as he rolled the other nipple between his fingers. Buffy ground her hips in a circular rhythm against him. She threw her head back, her swollen clit pressing against the ball of her fist as she wrapped her fingers around his large velvet flesh. She moaned out his name, breathless and needy as her hand encircled the thick crown of his penis.

"Yesss..." Dean hissed.

Desperately he curved his hands into her pants, finding her center while he thrust two fingers inside of her core as Buffy pumped her fist over the hard flesh of his erection.

"You’re on fire babe. Fuck you feel so good… too good. I can’t stop, never stop…." Dean panted loudly. They were completely oblivious to their audience as they worked each other into a frenzied fevered pitch. To him, to Buffy, they were the only ones in existence.

Dean reluctantly pulled his mouth from her breast, his lips moving up her chest in wet hot kisses before he found her wanting mouth. He removed his fingers from her depths, cupping her ass as he drew her from the wall and moved them blindly down the hallway. Bed, he wanted a bed. As they went, a massive fury of smoldering lust, they bumped against the wall to knock down a picture frame that shattered into a million tiny glass pieces. The glass crunched under Dean’s heavy boots, scratching the wood surface of the floor.

Nothing mattered, not the picture, not their family and friends; there was nothing, but the mindless need for each other.

Using blind luck, Dean moved them into the bedroom he shared with Sam. The door slammed shut behind them, rattling the windows in the living room from the force. The door locked shut, invisible hands sealing them inside of their paradise of sin as Buffy and Dean tumbled onto the bed in a mess of limbs. With a sultry grin Buffy pulled her swollen lips from Dean’s. She pushed him onto his back, moving to straddle his hips as she grabbed the cotton of his shirt and ripped it over his head.

The light green tee sailed through the air, sliding across the floor and onto the dresser. Buffy purred, moaning as she pivoted her hips to rub her center over the hard ridge of his cock. She looked down, her eyes a brilliant shade of emerald as she took in the sight of Dean’s well-defined muscles. His chest heaved up and down with his labored breath and the tight-ridged pack of his abs rippled as he flexed his muscles in an effort to sit up. He needed her; needed to feel her mouth on his; needed to feel her breath in his lungs.

Buffy pushed down against his shoulders, tisking him before she bent down to take a flat taut nipple into her mouth. Dean moaned at the contact as he felt the consuming fire explode within him. Buffy racked her nails down his chest, scratching over the trail of hair that led under his unbuttoned pants.

"I need you now. Jesus Buffy, I need to be inside of you." He panted hungrily as he flipped them over and covered Buffy’s mouth with his own. His teeth nipped at her lips: forceful and passionate as their teeth clinked against one another.

His hands fumbled with her pants, pulling them ungracefully from her hips, dragging her black thong down her legs as she helped kick off her shoes and unwanted clothing. She was sweating, her skin flushed and red with the heat that radiated from them. The cool air hit her skin, moving along her body like a ghostly kiss, and Buffy's back bowed off the bed.

Dean's lips moved up her legs as he used his hands to spread her thighs wide, opening her to him. Dean's eyes fluttered shut as he nipped at a spot at the back of her knee. He massaged as he went, his mouth hot as he let the sweet perfume of her center draw him into insanity. This, Dean knew, was complete insanity.

He found her center hot and wet, dripping with arousal as he cupped her weeping sex. Buffy arched off the bed once more, every touch ten times more sensitive then it should have been. She climaxed, just his fingers brushing against her clit made her scream out his name as Dean rammed two thick fingers inside of her.

Dean groaned, her climax exploding inside of his head. He could feel it; could feel her every dance of wicked of pleasure that washed over her as if it were his own. He thrust inside of her, his wrist twisting as their mouths found one another. With a few more pumps he brought her off again, addicted the feel of her tight muscles clenching around his invasion.

Teeth, piercing and sharp, pulled against her lip as Dean broke their kiss. He withdrew his fingers, replacing them with his mouth as he wrapped his arms under her thighs and brought her leaking slit to his mouth. Buffy screamed out once more, her voice already raw as she bucked against the smooth velveteen surface of his tongue flicking at her hard nub.

Dean held her, his fingers bruising her thighs where he held her still as he brought her off again. She poured into his mouth, and Dean drank her, drank her essence, her power, and her energy. Her heady taste filled him, sweet and musky, as he sucked the hard nubbin into his mouth. He alternated, driving her mad, with quick thrusts and nibbling bites.

"Now Dean." Buffy cried out as she threaded her hands through her tangled hair in an attempt to keep her self grounded.

She was floating, her body too light to be real as one climax ran into the next. It was like nothing she'd ever experienced, nothing that should have been possible, and Buffy wasn't able to control it. Power moved over, through her, and she could it feel like it was a solid object. She felt Dean, felt who he was, the pain, the loneliness, the hunter. It was in his blood, just as the huntress was inside of her.

They joined together, flowing in one smooth connected line until Buffy couldn't harness it. It spilled from them, and Dean cried out in what sounded like agony. It was - it was beautiful agony of true joining. It was time, and Dean pulled from between her thighs. It only took a second; one second of painful separation that they both felt in the pits of their stomach for Dean to pull down his pants and boxers enough so that he could free his burgeoning erection.

He needed no guidance, nothing more than instinct as he flipped Buffy onto her stomach. He pulled her hips up, angling her heart shaped ass in the air right before his cock thrust so deeply inside of her center he feared where he would come out.

Dean cried out, raw and husky, the sound moving over Buffy's body like a crashing wave. Her walls, slick and tight, pulsed around him as he split her in half. Dean felt an overwhelming sense of belonging; of being home. He was truly home for the first time since his life had been ripped to shreds by the demon that killed his mother and shattered his innocence.

Through Buffy's scream; through the sound of her nails as they shred over the gray cotton flannel sheets on the bed, Dean could hear the faint echo of the succubus' song. It was overwhelming - too much - and Dean came on that first hard thrust. He filled her; bringing her and him self as he pumped hot milky white pleasure inside of her womb. Dean didn't stop, if he stopped he would die; if he had to pull away from the heat and the passion and the energy that was so tightly wound around him, he'd asphyxiate. His hands on either side of Buffy's narrow hips grasped harder, bruising her with just the right amount of pressure as he started a fast bruising rhythm of his pelvis slapping against her backside.

His climax was euphoria, pure and simple, and the harder he thrust the deeper his shaft went inside of her and the better it felt as he gave way to the darkness that moved through them.

Buffy moved her hips backwards, tears of pure ecstasy leaking from her eyes as she felt Dean spend himself inside her. It moved along her skin; his pleasure arousing her that much further. Buffy arched her back, lifting to rise on her knees with Dean still thrusting against her. Dean took her queue, one hand moving to cup her breast, holding her back against his chest. His lips found her neck while his other hand moved down to where they were joined.

His fingers rubbed against her clit as his teeth left bruising marks against her neck. He laved the tender flesh there, desperate for each whimper and moan that floated around him. His hand moved with fury, their bodies already slick with sweat as Buffy rose and fell with his movements so that she impaled herself on his hardness. He brought her again, his fingers pinching her nipple as another paralyzing orgasm washed over them.

Buffy moved, craning her head back and to the side, their lips finding each other as they kissed blindly. The room was pitch black, and the only thing that either of them could see was the other. The more they touched - the more times they got off - the more they craved. It was an unending vicious cycle; the minutes melting away like seconds.

Using her strength, Buffy pushed Dean back, twisting her body to impale her sopping cum drenched center on his still hard rock hard cock. She rode him, bringing her body up and down against his as they both closed their eyes and let the sensations over take them. Buffy reached up, cupping her breasts as her thighs flexed in beautiful grace.

Her eyes were open, fixated on Dean's hazel depths as they melted into one another. Dean watched as Buffy drew in a berry red lip between her teeth to stifle a moan of carnal bliss. Her hands rose to cup her breasts, her nipples red and swollen from Dean's mouth and teeth as they worked their bodies in tandem. When one rose, the other pushed, over and over again.

Dean came again, groaning her name, telling her how beautiful she was, how good she felt. Buffy lowered herself, pressing her breasts against his hard chest. Their mouths met, and their slick bodies dragged along another in a stunning friction that made both of their minds numb. Dean rolled Buffy's lithe body beneath him, never wanting to leave the haven that he'd never again forget. She was imprinted in him; so ingrained into his soul that even after the night was over - the succubus gone - her taste, her scent and her feel would never leave him.

They moved tirelessly, coming and screaming and moaning as their energies and souls came together again and again. The succubus fed - her arms wide and her head thrown back up into the heavens as she basked in the glory of true love’s passion.

TBC...