Title: Post-Slayage Relief
Summary: Sometimes slaying is just foreplay.
Rating: FR21 / NC17
Warning: Graphic m/f sex
All remaining mistakes are my own.
Notes: Set during Mystery Spot – Episode: 3:11
and post Season Seven BtVS
Written for: Ava
as a Christmas present. Apparently I forgot to post it…
Disclaimer: "A vague disclaimer is nobody's friend." - I do not own any of the characters in Buffy the Vampire Slayer and/or Angel the Series, they belong to Fox, the WB/UPN, Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, etc. The characters of Supernatural belong to Eric Kripke, The WB, The CW, etc. Please do not copy or take this story without my permission.
The wall shuddered as they crashed into it. Buffy’s back absorbed the impact even as the crappy picture frame threatened to fall down.
Sam’s fingers dug into the cotton panties covering Buffy’s ass and held her up as he thrust against her.
“Stop teasing and just do it,” Buffy growled as she pulled at the collar of the white undershirt Sam wore. The fabric ripped under her fingers, neckline stretching obscenely.
Sam’s fingers shifted to grab the waistband of Buffy’s panties, gripping the slim elastic band and tugging. It snapped and tore free, her panties falling aside as her nimble fingers moved to his jeans.
The button popped free and the zipper opened with a metallic whine. Cool air danced over his heated flesh as Buffy dug into his pocket for a condom. She wasted no time rolling it down his length, stroking him quickly a few times as he shuddered into her hand.
He reached out, teeth sinking into the soft junction of her neck. Buffy gasped, jerked, her flesh tearing around his teeth. Her hand slid to the base of his cock, squeezing almost painfully and he let go with a lick against the bruised flesh.
Her free hand cupped his shoulder and she leveraged herself further up. Carefully she guided Sam into her hot center and she lowered herself down onto him.
His head tilted back, eyes staring up at the popcorn ceiling. Once she was fully seated on him she paused for a moment to let herself adjust. And Sam recited the list of laws they’d broken that evening as he fought the immediate, overwhelming urge to come that accompanied each time he first slid into her.
Her inner walls clenched tightly around him, drawing him out of his thoughts as he thrust up into her.
“Twelve,” she gasped as he slid out of her and pushed hard back in.
The exterior motel wall was shaking with his thrusts and it was only a matter of time before they knocked the bad art off the wall.
“Huh?” he asked as he worked his hips, trying hard to find a rhythm that would get her off hopefully before he did.
“The number of laws we broke tonight,” she answered.
“Fourteen, actually, or at least that’s all I got to before someone got demanding.”
He silenced her retort with his mouth and tongue, kissing her until his lungs burned and he had to pull back to breathe.
“I’d be less demanding if you remembered I’m the Slayer and I need
to kill things. It relieves tension.”
“If I was hard pressed,” he started and thrust hard against her dragging a ragged moan from her lips, “to tell the truth, I’d say I killed that demon on purpose.”
His right hand slid around her hip, dipped down her inner thigh to the hot, wet mess where they were joined. His thumb easily found her clit, pressing down as he started circling it.
She fluttered around him, tightening almost painfully as he worked her to orgasm.
“You’re a conniving bastard Sam Winchester,” she breathed out, voice hitching as she thrust her pelvis into his hand.
Her fingers tightened around his hip, fingernails digging in half-moon welts before she drug them down scarring his hip.
“And you’re one hell of a wildcat, Slayer, when you’re all riled up.”
His thumb sped up, pressed a little harder, and she came. Her head snapped back, rattling the wall enough to dislodge the framed picture. It crashed to the floor, shattering loudly as Buffy clenched tightly around his dick.
It was almost too tight, almost painful, but it was what always sent him over the edge. His hips snapped forward three times before he emptied himself into the condom deep inside her.
His knees wobbled as the orgasm ripped through him. He half-collapsed against her, his sweaty hair sticking to the wall as he fought for breath against her neck.
He stayed like that for a few moments more, lazily rocking his hips, working himself through the last of his climax as Buffy twitched and squirmed around him.
“Maybe I let you kill that demon,” Buffy whispered in the silent room.
Sam’s snort of disbelief was all the response he could muster.