Fic: Ease Up (NC-17)
Title: Ease Up
Author: Ava
Prompt: #4 Lust
Rating: NC-17 (Say it with me people, NC-17)Disclaimer: I own nada. Zilch. Zip.
Synopsis: Answer to Jenn’s challenge found here
Spoilers: None, that I know of.
Ease Up…
The windshield wipers made an awful whine against the glass as they tried and failed to keep the steadily falling snow from blocking what little could be seen. Buffy sighed and eased up on the accelerator, glancing down to see the speedometer drop to thirty-five. Her fingers tensed around the steering wheel as the tires crunched over the forming ice and the cobalt Audi jolted against the wind.
This would be the first and last time she followed one of Xander’s short cuts through Ohio’s more rural back roads to get back to Cleveland. With a frustrated sigh she blew at the bangs that had escaped her headband and ponytail. Her eyes narrowed as the wind shifted directions again, filling her windshield with a mixture of rain and snow. One hand freed itself from her death grip on the wheel and she twisted her wrist, shooting the wipers into over time.
After the second swipe Buffy’s eyes widened and she slammed the on the break, forcing it to the floor as a black car sped across her path. Her body snapped forward, seatbelt catching as she jerked the wheel to the right and winced as her Audi shuddered, striking bumpers with the other vehicle and her tail end became air born as her front tires lost traction and she spun out.
For far too long the view beyond the windshield became a blur until a horrible groaning filled the car and her head impacted the window as the driver’s side struck an immovable object. The window behind her popped as something shoved its way through and Buffy clutched the wheel, absently watching the steady swish of the wipers.
Her heart stayed at a steady pace in her throat as the car slowly stopped rocking and came to stand still. Buffy blinked and inhaled through her nose, counting to ten and watched as the check engine light flickered to life. She stared at the orange image with mild confusion, her lips tilting at the corners until the engine coughed and stalled.
The lights across her dash dimmed, the wipers locking in mid-motion as the heater died. Allowing winter cold to seep in, quickly tracing icy fingers down her spine and pulling a shudder from her slim frame. Buffy winced and pulled white knuckled hands from the wheel as she swallowed her heart.
Her eyes raised to the rearview mirror and they widened at the sight of large tree branch laying in her back seat. Her head turned and she looked out the shattered window to see a rather impressive oak locking her into the car on the driver’s side. She frowned at the spider web crack directly above her eye line, traced with blood.
A hand rose unconsciously to probe the side of her head and she winced as the pain finally registered. Her fingers came away crimson and she sighed, breath easing out as a small cloud. A hand rose to absently turn the keys to the off position and by force of habit she pulled them out and slid them into the pocket of her slacks.
“Dammit.”
Twisting her upper body she released the seatbelt and winced as her shoulder gave a tug in protest as Buffy tried to slide across the center console. Ignoring the sudden pains that were bringing her endorphin high down with pinpricks she made her way into the passenger seat and grabbed her coat from its place on the floorboards, where it had fallen. The door opened for the night air to engulf Buffy as she stepped out and sent a silent thanks skyward that she had worn knee high boots under her slacks as the black fabric easily absorbed the snow’s moisture. Shivering, she clenched her jaw to avoid chattering teeth as she pulled the calf length coat on over a cowl-necked sweater.
Her boots made an oddly comforting crunch across the freezing snow as she made her way over the several yards between her Audi and the sleek vehicle that had just twisted her night to shit. Concern stamped its way across her features as she watched the driver’s door groan its way open and worn boots crushed the snow as pair of rather splendidly filled jeans followed them out of the car.
Buffy’s brows rose with the sight of the man that stood a few feet in front of her and she ignore the slight pain as the movement pulled at her injury. A faded leather jacket was pulled tight across impressive shoulders and a jaw covered in what looked like a few days of growth tensed. She traced the straight line of his nose and the smooth brow that lead into his casually spiked hair and she had a moment to think-pretty-before he opened his mouth and ruined it.
“Son-of-a-bitch!” His voice was a low growl and he spun to shooting her a glare. “Did you miss the part about right of way in Drivers ED?”
Buffy’s mouth dropped open, “Excuse me?”
Her eyes narrowed as she caught him muttered, “women,” under his breath as he began to inspect his car for damage. Never realizing he was seconds away from a thorough ass kicking as Buffy moved to follow him.
“Did you miss the part were you learned that a red octagon shaped sign with the word stop means to-I don’t know-stop?”
He stiffened from checking out his bumper and spun toward her, “Stop sign? What stop sign?”
Buffy matched his glare, “The one you ran.”
His breath exploded outward from his nose as he moved to tower over her petite frame. “Listen sweetheart, there…”
“Buffy.”
He frowned at her interruption, “What?”
“My name is Buffy, not sweetheart.”
He snorted, “You prefer Buffy to sweetheart?”
Her jaw tensed, teeth chattering. “Go to hell.” Spinning on her heel she made her way back toward her own car and her cell phone.
Mentally cursing it, herself for leaving it behind, and the jackass that cared more about an inanimate object than the girl who was bleeding from the head. She frowned as her temple seemed to flare with her agitation and she ignored the darkening of her vision as she was forced to slowed her stride or risk toppling.
Dean watched the little hellcat stroll away and shook his head before turning back to his baby and wincing at the crumpled bumper. His brows lowered as he continued making his way around and said the phrase; “fuck me,” with great feeling as he saw both back tires were flat. Still muttering under his breath he pulled out his cell, flipping it open and then glared at the lack of bars telling him he had a signal.
His shoulders tightened, fingers clenching around the bit of plastic as he turned in the direction the little blonde had come from. Wincing as the wind picked up and the snow became a wall of cold. His steps faltered as he neared her vehicle and saw the damage. Lips pursing at the sight of low lying limb having punched through the safety glass and now sat comfortably in the back seat, only a few feet away from crashing through the driver’s window.
Her back was to him and he watched; brows drawing low as she tried unsuccessfully to unlock the passenger door. Clearing his throat he finished the remaining feet in a few hurried steps, “Hey.”
Thin shoulders pulled back and she turned an ashen face in his direction and Dean finally noticed the blood streaked through the hair at her temple as he grabbed the keys from her. Reaching up he grasped her shoulders and turned her to the side, frowning at the faint smell of gasoline.
“What side is your tank on?”
She blinked wide eyes at him, before shaking off her confusion, “Driver’s side.”
His lips thinned as he opened the door and grabbed the purse sitting on the floor. “Got anything important in here?”
Again she watched him, confused by his sudden 180. “My bags.”
He nodded moving back toward the trunk after giving the back seat a passing glance. “You’re leaking gas, we’ll move you stuff to my car until we can get a tow truck here.”
“Gas?”
Dean unlocked and lifted the trunk as Buffy moved beside him. “You know, the stuff that’s highly combustible, fuels your car.” Off her blank look he sighed, “Come on.”
Her hand darted around his and grabbed the smaller of the two bags lining her trunk and Dean’s brows lowered as the car rose up a notch as she lifted it out. “O-kay.”
Grabbing the other, he hefted it to his shoulder and slammed the lid before moving back toward his car. The crunch of snow behind him assured Dean she was following, docile for the moment but he had seen the flash in her eyes as she’d traded insults with him a only moments before.
Stopping at his driver’s side door he opened it and reached back to unlock the back door. Straightening he flashed a quick smile and opened the door, motioning her to place her bag down first. Buffy nodded and again Dean frowned as the weight of the duffle made the Impala dip. Tossing her other bag on the seat he motioned her toward the other side of the car and watched as she complied.
“Must’ve hit a branch, radiators busted. So no heat but at least we’ll be out of the wind and snow.”
Again she stared at him blankly and he sent a worried glance to her blood-covered temple until she asked, “Radiator? How can you tell?”
He arched a brow, “You didn’t notice my car was bleedin’ green?”
Buffy tried to pull her head out of the self-induced fog as she shrugged. “I just thought you hit an Abominable Snowman.”
“Not this far south. They’re native to Canada.”
Buffy tilted her head at his straight faced answer and watched more than a little amused as he grinned and slid behind the wheel. Opening her door she joined him in the only slightly warmer confines of his car. Blinking in welcome at the fact that he’d left his dome light on.
“Gotta cell in here?”
He absently shook her purse and she grabbed it from him, opening the side compartment and frowning at the screen and sight of the little tower with an x over it.
“No signal.”
Dean frowned, “Damn.”
Buffy glanced at him, “Yours too?” He nodded, she sighed. “So what do we do now?”
“Conserve body heat?”
She turned to him, “How do you…” Her brow wrinkled at the leer being sent in her direction and she glared. “Weren’t you being an ass just a few minutes ago?”
Dean nodded, speaking the next words as if they explained everything. “You broke my car.”
“I broke…” She trailed off stunned. “You broke my car!”
He snorted, “You clipped my rear, crashing me.” Ignoring her annoyed, ‘pfft’ he reached across her and opened the glove compartment, pulling out the first aid kit. “Come’re.”
“So you can yell at me some more?”
Dean frowned, “So I can look at your head, smartass.”
“Whatever, Mr. Kettle.”
His lips quirked, “Shut it and come’re.”
Buffy’s jaw tightened, the muscles of her neck cording as she resisted the urge to slap his head into the steering wheel. Giving herself oodles of brownie points for effort she slide across the bench seat an inch or two.
“Did ya strain yourself moving that far?”
Buffy’s head pivoted, “Were you raised in a barn? Or by wolves? ‘Cause human beings usually show each other a some courtesy.”
Dean’s eyes narrowed, “That’s what I’m try’in to do sweetheart, but you’re being a more than a little difficult.”
Buffy’s temper spiked as she jerked the handle of the door and shoved it open with her shoulder. The windowpane rattled as she slammed it and Dean’s jaw pushed forward before he exhaled and followed her into the cold.
“Listen-” his words halted as ball of packed snow struck his face. He sputtered and shook his head, dislodging most of it and blinked suddenly blurred vision as the tiny blonde started another one from the snow at her feet.
“Alright stop that-” The next struck his chest and he winced as the melted snow in his lashes was caught by the wind and began to freeze.
“Its too freakin’ cold for this shit. No get back in the damn car.”
The blonde’s eyes narrowed, “What’s your name?”
He frowned, watching the third snowball she held, “Dean.”
“Well, Dean. You’re an asshole.” She mentally added that he was pretty asshole but an asshole nonetheless.
Stepping forward he raised both hands in false helplessness. “Once you get to know me its an entirely different story.”
Buffy watched him move toward her and casually tossed the snowball in the air, smirking at his wince. Her fingers tingled from the cold as she tossed the ball to her other hand and shook off the excess water from the free one.
Dean cleared his throat and shook his head. “Look, my nipples could cut glass and I’d like to get back in the Impala before frostbite kicks in and takes something important.”
Buffy’s eyes widened with his description and she laughed-she couldn’t help it. “Fine, but if you keep acting like a jackass I can’t be held accountable for my actions.”
Dean contemplated asking, what he was allowed to do if she kept acting like a bitch but wisely kept his mouth shut. His shoulders lowered after she let the snowball drop harmlessly to the ground and made her way back toward his car.
Offering her a tightlipped smile he slid back behind the wheel as she slid into the passenger’s side. Twisting around he reached for his bag in the back seat, pulled it between them and began shrugging out of his jacket.
Buffy watched him confused. “What are you doing?”
Dean spared her a frown before pulling off the button up shirt and reaching over his shoulders to drag his undershirt over his head. Buffy watched his stomach muscles bunch with the movement and averted her eyes as he reached up to use said shirt as towel to dry his face. His arm stretched across the space between them, offering her his clothing. She blinked and turned to him with a raised brow.
He rolled his eyes, “For your hands, they have to be freezing.”
She took the soft cotton hesitantly and wiped her hands off before looking to him for guidance as to where to put it. Her mouth joined her hands in dryness as she watched him rummage through his bag and finally saw the width of his shoulders up close.
The muscles of his biceps coiled and released as he pushed things around and his chest rose and fell hypnotically with each breath and it was a very real possibility that his nipples could cut glass. Clearing her throat she watch his eyes flick up to meet hers and he offered a half smile.
“Just toss it in the back.”
Distracted, she blinked and asked, “What?”
Dean stilled and turned his full attention on her and caught the distraction this time, forcing his half smile wider. “My shirt, just toss it in the back seat.”
“Sure.” Complying, she missed his snicker.
“So what you brings you to rural Ohio?”
Buffy blinked, “I’m on my way home from visiting some friends.”
He nodded and donned a long sleeved black shirt that pulled tight across his chest and seemed to emphasize the muscles beneath it, more than cover them. Trying to distract herself she asked, “And you?”
“I was on a hunting trip with my dad.”
He shrugged on hoodie and Buffy blinked, tearing her attention away from his body. “What do you hunt?”
He glanced up, offering another half smile, “Big game mostly.” Watching her nod, he glanced down her body. Frowning at the large coat she had on, Dean asked. “You want to borrow smoothing more comfortable?”
Perfectly arched brows rose as she turned toward him and again Dean winced at the bruise forming from temple to jaw along the left side of her face. He motioned to her coat and she glanced down, considering.
With a hesitant nod, she shrugged out of the large wool coat and tossed it to follow his shirt into the back seat. He raised a brow at the slim frame revealed as he handed her another hoodie and she pulled it on quickly, shivering in the cold air.
“Now can I see your head?”
Buffy turned to see him arch a brow at her and she noticed even in the dome’s dim light his eyes were green with a ring of hazel at the center. His lips spread in a lazy smile as he caught her stare and she sighed scooting closer as he put his bag behind him and grabbed the first aid kit from the floor.
Placing it on his lap he opened it and grabbed an antiseptic wipe, tearing it open with his teeth and unfolded the wet towelette. Turning toward Buffy he tilted her head so that her injury face the light and gently began to wipe at the excess blood from her hair and cheek. He watched the corners of her eyes flinched each time he hit the nerve endings exposed along the edge of the spilt skin.
Working over the wound gently until it was clean, he then slid the sullied wipe into a spare plastic bag and pulled out a few butterfly bandages. He tapped the edges together the best he could and finished. Grasping her chin and twisting her head left and right under the light Dean searched for anything he’d missed.
Her eyes remained closed, dark half moons against pale cheeks. A pink tongue darted out wetting her lower lip before she rolled them together and Dean’s grip tightened. Her eyes opened and she turned toward him while pulling away.
“Thanks.”
“Not a problem.”
Closing the kit he tossed it to the floor and shifted back even as Buffy pulled his jacket tighter around her. His brows lowered, “Cold?”
She glanced over at him with a self-deprecating smile. “Is that supposed to be rhetorical?”
Wincing at his own stupidity, he shrugged, “Come’re.” Buffy arched a brow and he rolled his eyes. “I’m not gonna molest you.” He offered her a quick grin, “Not unless you ask nicely.”
She shook her head and shivered, forcing Dean to take the decision away as he slid over and tucked her under his arm, into his side. Buffy sagged against his warmth and turned her face into his chest, mindful of her injury. Glancing down he noticed her hesitancy and stated quiet simply, “It’ll clean.”
She rolled her eyes upward, “What?”
“The blood. It’ll clean don’t worry over it.”
She nodded and let her head fell against his chest as he dropped his arm to encircle her shoulders. Another shiver racked her frame and Dean reached for his leather jacket. Draping it over Buffy and glanced out the windshield to watch and wait for the snow to ease up. They began a hushed conversation that filled the Impala with whispered memories and muffled laughter.
~~~@~~~@~~~@
Three hours later Dean found himself in the emergency room of one of Cleveland’s many hospitals and sitting across from a petite blonde that he shared more than a few things in common with. An officer of the law had happened upon them, checking the back roads for stranded motorist and finding two. One named Buffy Summers and the other Dean Walters.
Whose father would be bringing his proof of insurance along with a tow truck the following morning. After he sucked up to Bobby enough to borrow it and gave Dean long enough to get over the reaming he took for fucking up the Impala. Shaking his head he watched Buffy roll her eyes as the nurse finished rebinding her wound and smirked at her wince as the nurse palpated her shoulder. The blonde stuck out her tongue and the nurse admonished her, forcing a laugh from Dean and middle fingered salute from Buffy.
A few minutes later Buffy was granted her prescription and several signed release papers later the pair were standing beside her cab as the cabby placed her bags in the back, struggling with the smaller one.
Buffy reached up and tucked her newly freed hair behind her ears and looked up at Dean almost shyly. “So you’re gonna get a hotel room nearby?”
“Probably.”
She swallowed, kept eye contact. “And if I asked you to come home with me?”
His lips curved up, “I wouldn’t say no.”
Buffy sent him a quick grin and opened the cab door. “Good to know.”
As she began to dart inside, Dean caught her arm and she allowed herself to be pulled back. Allowed her chin to be grabbed and her head tilted back. Allowed Dean to cover her still giggling mouth with his own and press her into the side of the cab. Meddling them from chest to knee and her lips parted with a sigh, his tongue easing in to trace each contour. Her hands rose, fingers digging into his shoulders as she arched upward and swallowed his moan of approval.
The driver’s door slammed shut and Buffy jerked against Dean with the sound and the cabby’s annoyed voice spoke, “Meters running.”
Dean dropped the hand from her chin to open the door further and pulled back with a nip to her lower lip and gently pushed her into the cab. She watched him dazed, tongue tracing her bruised lips and before he could close the door her hand snaked out grabbing his wrist and pulling him inside with surprising force.
As the door closed, Buffy rattled off her address and slid into Dean’s lap, claiming his mouth much the same way he did hers. Lips parted, tongue slipping in past his as her fingers tugged down the zipper of his jacket and she eased her hands inside to grip the slop of his shoulders. Nails biting in appreciation as his slid up the back of her sweater, tracing slow circles over warm skin.
His biceps coiled, pulling her body closer and Dean leaned back, watched the dark heat easing into her gaze and gave her another lazy smile. “This isn’t the best place.”
A hand rose to cup his check, ease into his hair. “Clothes stay on.” She leaned forward, breath against his ear. “At least until we have a bed.”
He turned his head nipping her jaw with blunt teeth and working his way down her neck to trail a wet tongue over raised skin. His brows drew down with he feel of a scar in that particular spot. His lips hesitated there, just above her pulse point, hot breath raising goosebumps and her hips rocked downward, brushing the quickly forming bulge and Dean’s suspicious melted away with the movement.
His fingers slid from her back to grip her hips and he traced his lips over the scar, butterfly sweeps that filled the cab with heated whimpers and gave the cabby something to work over later. His jaw locked as his lips surrounded the mark and sucked, suddenly harsh and her hips rolled harder, almost bruising.
His fingers flexed holding her rocking hips over his growing erection as he released her neck and she twisted, claiming his mouth with teeth and tongue. Sucking in the small groans falling from his mouth as her hips increased their tempo and the cab suddenly ground to a halt and they pulled away from each other gasping.
Mossy green eyes meet his as she swallowed and licked her lips, tasting him and Dean groaned opening the door and allowing Buffy to crawl from his lap and into the brisk night. She silently paid the cabby and grabbed both her bags with ease as Dean followed her up the flight of stairs and to the left. She glanced back at him once, eyes still hazy and offered him a wicked smile of promise.
Keys scrapped loudly into the lock of her front door as Dean opened one of the pockets of his bag and slipped out a foil package. Following her inside he watched as she tossed her bags to the floor and turned motioning him in. His bag fell in the same general direction as hers and Buffy gave a small cry of surprise as Dean slammed the door for her and shoved her back against it.
His hands hooked the edge of her sweater and pulled it off, spilling her hair around her shoulders and leaving her in nothing more than a black lace bra from the waist up. He knelt, gaze flowing over the soft mounds of her breast, down the slim curve where her waist and hips met. Sitting back on his heels, Dean reached up under her slacks and unzipped her right boot, slid a hand inside to massage her calf before tugging it and her sock off and then repeated the same actions with her left.
He rose back up to a kneeling position and placed a wet kiss just beneath her bellybutton, tongue tasting her skin as his fingers unhooked her slacks. Slid them down her legs and smiled into the black thong at just the right level to be caught with his teeth and snapped back against her body.
The muscles under his fingers flexed and her breath hitched. He glanced up as he hooked thumbs under the thin strip of elastic on either hip and dragged the scrap of material down toned thighs to fall at her feet and be kicked away. He bent and spread her thighs, easing his warm breath across the triangle of hair.
“Dean.” He glanced up, eyes hooded. “Niceties later, fuck me now.”
His lips twitched, head darting forward to give on long stroke of his tongue that pulled a strangled sound from deep in her throat. He leaned back, rose, pulling off his shirt and toeing off his boots as his hand snaked into his pocket and slipped out the foiled package. Buffy reached forward, deftly unhooking his belt and pulling it through all the hoops with a quick jerk of her arm.
It was tossed somewhere behind him as her other hand twisted the button of his jeans and tugged down his zipper. His hips jerked with the slight vibration as she pushed them down, his boxers lost somewhere in the pile as he stepped forward and shoved her back against the door.
Her mouth sought out his and she claimed it with a clashing of teeth as his hands tore the package and rolled the condom over his straining cock and Buffy’s hand followed him down and wrapped snugly around the base, giving a light twist. He hissed against her mouth and hands sliding over the globes of her ass and caught the back of her thighs, lifting and breaking her hold on him.
She pulled back, caught his gaze as he positioned himself at her entrance. Buffy’s hands lowered to help guide him, the dark heat coiled in her eyes trapping him as he thrust forward and her mouth opened, neck arching. Her hands rose to grip his shoulders as he shoved back slamming her into the door and shuddering the frame.
The pace was set, quick and bruising as he pushed his way into her tightly muscled body. Gazes still locked as he rolled his hips forward, mimicked the sound of someone knocking instantly with their bodies. Buffy gasped as he pulled out, rubbing her insides in such a delicious way and then piston back in to brush her cervix. Until both were panting and Dean’s thrusts became more frantic and he broke eye contact to catch the one sweet spot he found in the their quick foreplay.
His mouth latched onto the scar and her core fluttered around him and he pressed her harder into the wood. Sucked at the raised skin until her gasps became cries that rose in volume and she wrapped around him like a velvet fist. His jaw flexed, teeth sinking into her flesh and Buffy’s head slammed back against the wood. Body so tight, Dean gave two more thrusts before following her over that pristine edge.
Her chest heaved against his, pushing her lace-covered breasts agaisnt him and he felt his cock twitch inside her pulsing depths. She gave a soft laugh, “I think I’m dead.”
He kissed the newly forming hicky and pulled back enough to ask, “Bedroom?”
She blinked, her inner walls tightening with the suggestion and his lazy smile was back in full force. “Second door on the right.”
He pulled out of her slowly, savoring the pulsing for as long as possible and caught her lips in a soft kiss. She heard the elastic of the condom being eased down and the snap as he tied it off. He pulled back just long enough to locate the nearest trashcan before he was back in front of her. His hands cupped her neck, pulling her into a searching kiss and eased their way down, over her shoulders and behind her back to unhook her bra, dropped it to the floor. He stepped back and winked before he made his way unashamedly nude down her hallway and paused at her bedroom door.
“Coming?”
She grinned and was finally thankful Dawnie had moved away to Stanford as she followed him.
~~~@~~~@~~~@
Dean frowned as he snapped his phone shut and glanced back at the closed door of Buffy’s apartment. John would be there in twenty, surprisingly already knowing where the complex was located, having worked a job here the year before. He sighed and shoved his cell into his pocket and glanced up as the door opened and Buffy came out into the hall offering him a cup of coffee as she sipped at hers.
He took it without a word and took a small pull. “Thanks.”
“Welcome.”
His lips quirked and he tugged at her knot in her robe, pulling her forward and against him. She smiled and placed a kiss into the center of his chest before resuming her coffee. Glancing down at the top of her head he watched her slowly finish and lowered his mug to the railing overlooking her apartment complex’s parking lot.
Snagging hers he placed it beside his and lifted her chin, catching her lips with his own and enjoyed the sweet and long morning after kiss that he so rarely shared. She tasted coffee bitter and toothpaste sweet. An odd combination but her tongue quickly flicked up to trace the roof of his mouth and he lost all coherent thought for a while.
Long enough that the next thing he heard was his father clearing his throat and he pulled back. Looked down into Buffy’s flushed face and mussed hair that he pushed back behind her ears.
“Hello, Buffy.”
Dean’s eyes flashed upward as Buffy stiffened against his front. She turned, twisting her head. “Hey, John.”
“The hell.”
~~~@~~~@~~~@
The End.