[smut!fic for deep-red-bells] defend us in battle...
NOTE: Being that Cain's Corpus Christi-verse is basically dead, this takes place in the distant future...kind of a wrap up for the 'verse as a whole. ;p
Whenever he wonders if angels can be violent, he thinks of Saint Michael...and of her.
Tonight, the angel visits him again with all her wrath and passion. In a rare moment, he’s asleep in bed without her, wiped out from his own night spent crouching in an alley where a demon’s been killing prostitutes. Exhaustion keeps him from dreaming, but pain makes him easy to wake.
He knows Baileigh’s hands by their calluses, knows her by the smell of fresh air that always clings to her, even when she’s been working an eight hour shift at the diner or spending her nights in a crypt still rich with the stink of death. The brush of her fingers sets off light, teasing twinges of pain over his bruises and electrifies what little of his bare torso that’s free of injury.
“Bee?...”
She kisses him instead of answering, and when her teeth sink into his lip hard enough to draw blood, he knows why she’s there instead of in the shower, letting the hot water ease the aches and pains of a night on the killing fields.
“Stupid Carter...hate him hate him hate him hate him!...”
Her voice is hoarse, but bright in the darkness as she draws Cain up to a seated position, crawling into that perfect place astride his lap, body pressed against him and knees on either side of his hips to squeeze as she rocked and squirmed like she was in a race to see how quickly she could get herself off before he could do more than run his hands up her legs and kiss her back just as hard, just as hot JesusfuckingChrist...
It’s rough and it’s swift, but it’s just right for them. He’s already hard for her as he flips her on her back and curses between kisses while trying to get her jeans unzipped, but her legs are locked around his waist and she’s making those desperate little mewling noises that turn his blood molten and make rational thought impossible.
“Look, I know…Carter stole…yer kill…but I can’t fuck you if you ain’t naked.”
“Undressing…takes…too long!...”
She’s stronger than him, but he knows her buttons now and uses them to full advantage. He pulls out the ponytail she’s wearing and runs his fingers through her hair, kissing the tense cords of muscle in her neck as he meets the roll of her hips against his without much trouble…the friction’s only making him crazier than he already is, but that high whimper comes and she’s lax in his arms just for a second…
“Bastard.”
“S’ why you married me.” He growls with a grin as he unlatches her legs from around his waist and gets her jeans unzipped, drawing back just long enough to pull them off her legs. He watches her sit up and help him, shucking off clothing and lingerie like it’s going out of style before tugging impatiently at his boxers with a muted snarl that drives him forward again. Pinning her to the bed, she fights him…but not as hard as she could.
He’s tired, he’s sore, and she knows it. Her eyes are dark and bright in the low light from underneath the door, fevered with unsatisfied bloodlust to rival any vampire. Still, through the fog she’s gentle as she can be with his too human body.
“Cain…c’mon, please…mmmmm…”
Cain loves the way her eyes shut and her lower lip catches between her teeth as he trails his hand over her belly and slips a finger inside of her, thumb circling teasingly over her clit. The noises that come from her throat, high and hungry, make his mouth go dry, and the hard, slow rock of her hips against his touch only serves to make him harder.
He doesn’t let her suffer for long before removing his hand and shucking off his boxers quickly, settling between her legs. He waits until he’s inside her before he makes her suffer, taking her hard and slow as his mouth and hands lazily wander over her body. He leaves bruises when he catches her hips so she can’t move too fast, bites hard enough to leave marks when she starts cursing at him in Spanish, but the telltale scratches that she gouges in his back are worse than all of it…and mean more to him than the wedding ring he wears even in sleep.
She cries out when she comes, his name trailed by more of those sweet alien words that blend into the flood of heat and ecstasy that sweeps him away as her orgasm triggers his own. Pain and pleasure blend into a wave of pure sensation that steals his breath for too long, leaving him dizzy and exhausted as the last tremors leave his body after an impossible time.
He rolls off of her and pulls her atop him. She follows knowingly, familiar and practiced…perfectly fitted to him as a wife should be.
“Love you…holy crap..”
“Better?”
“Hell yes…which reminds me, you can’t leave town at the end of the week to hunt that…wendigo thing.”
“Why?!”
“Because people are dying…Carter thinks he saw a demon tonight. Your kind…vampire gets black eyed, then belches matching smoke?”
Groaning, he shut his eyes and scowled. “Fuck me running.”
“Mmmm, maybe later. That was good, though, I needed that.”
Snorting, he pulled her close and drew the blankets more securely over both of them as she settled her head against his chest with a massive yawn.
“Whatever, yo…maybe Max and Kiki can go. Me, you, Hank, and Jules can handle the demon.”
“Shhhh…sleep now. Love you…said that, right?”
“Yeah, love you, too. G’won t’ sleep.”
With an incoherent murmur, she nuzzled him briefly before her breathing began to deepen and even out, every puff of air warm and soothing against his skin. The hand that curled against her cheek where it lay on his chest was just as warm, save for the cool, smooth surface of the platinum wedding band on her finger. Reaching up, he linked his fingers through hers, savoring the soft chink that sounded as their rings clicked against each other.
He was gone a lot, but she was always there when he came home…helping Hank with her homework, hunting with Carter, plugging away at the diner…living her life with a ring on her finger and a promise in her heart to love a man that couldn’t give her much more than his heart and soul.
The perfect wife he didn’t deserve…and all he had to find her was steal her kill.
The notion brought a smile to his lips as he finally let himself drift off to sleep, safe in his own personal Heaven as he lay in the arms of his bloodthirsty angel.
Whenever he wonders if angels can be violent, he thinks of Saint Michael...and of her.
Tonight, the angel visits him again with all her wrath and passion. In a rare moment, he’s asleep in bed without her, wiped out from his own night spent crouching in an alley where a demon’s been killing prostitutes. Exhaustion keeps him from dreaming, but pain makes him easy to wake.
He knows Baileigh’s hands by their calluses, knows her by the smell of fresh air that always clings to her, even when she’s been working an eight hour shift at the diner or spending her nights in a crypt still rich with the stink of death. The brush of her fingers sets off light, teasing twinges of pain over his bruises and electrifies what little of his bare torso that’s free of injury.
“Bee?...”
She kisses him instead of answering, and when her teeth sink into his lip hard enough to draw blood, he knows why she’s there instead of in the shower, letting the hot water ease the aches and pains of a night on the killing fields.
“Stupid Carter...hate him hate him hate him hate him!...”
Her voice is hoarse, but bright in the darkness as she draws Cain up to a seated position, crawling into that perfect place astride his lap, body pressed against him and knees on either side of his hips to squeeze as she rocked and squirmed like she was in a race to see how quickly she could get herself off before he could do more than run his hands up her legs and kiss her back just as hard, just as hot JesusfuckingChrist...
It’s rough and it’s swift, but it’s just right for them. He’s already hard for her as he flips her on her back and curses between kisses while trying to get her jeans unzipped, but her legs are locked around his waist and she’s making those desperate little mewling noises that turn his blood molten and make rational thought impossible.
“Look, I know…Carter stole…yer kill…but I can’t fuck you if you ain’t naked.”
“Undressing…takes…too long!...”
She’s stronger than him, but he knows her buttons now and uses them to full advantage. He pulls out the ponytail she’s wearing and runs his fingers through her hair, kissing the tense cords of muscle in her neck as he meets the roll of her hips against his without much trouble…the friction’s only making him crazier than he already is, but that high whimper comes and she’s lax in his arms just for a second…
“Bastard.”
“S’ why you married me.” He growls with a grin as he unlatches her legs from around his waist and gets her jeans unzipped, drawing back just long enough to pull them off her legs. He watches her sit up and help him, shucking off clothing and lingerie like it’s going out of style before tugging impatiently at his boxers with a muted snarl that drives him forward again. Pinning her to the bed, she fights him…but not as hard as she could.
He’s tired, he’s sore, and she knows it. Her eyes are dark and bright in the low light from underneath the door, fevered with unsatisfied bloodlust to rival any vampire. Still, through the fog she’s gentle as she can be with his too human body.
“Cain…c’mon, please…mmmmm…”
Cain loves the way her eyes shut and her lower lip catches between her teeth as he trails his hand over her belly and slips a finger inside of her, thumb circling teasingly over her clit. The noises that come from her throat, high and hungry, make his mouth go dry, and the hard, slow rock of her hips against his touch only serves to make him harder.
He doesn’t let her suffer for long before removing his hand and shucking off his boxers quickly, settling between her legs. He waits until he’s inside her before he makes her suffer, taking her hard and slow as his mouth and hands lazily wander over her body. He leaves bruises when he catches her hips so she can’t move too fast, bites hard enough to leave marks when she starts cursing at him in Spanish, but the telltale scratches that she gouges in his back are worse than all of it…and mean more to him than the wedding ring he wears even in sleep.
She cries out when she comes, his name trailed by more of those sweet alien words that blend into the flood of heat and ecstasy that sweeps him away as her orgasm triggers his own. Pain and pleasure blend into a wave of pure sensation that steals his breath for too long, leaving him dizzy and exhausted as the last tremors leave his body after an impossible time.
He rolls off of her and pulls her atop him. She follows knowingly, familiar and practiced…perfectly fitted to him as a wife should be.
“Love you…holy crap..”
“Better?”
“Hell yes…which reminds me, you can’t leave town at the end of the week to hunt that…wendigo thing.”
“Why?!”
“Because people are dying…Carter thinks he saw a demon tonight. Your kind…vampire gets black eyed, then belches matching smoke?”
Groaning, he shut his eyes and scowled. “Fuck me running.”
“Mmmm, maybe later. That was good, though, I needed that.”
Snorting, he pulled her close and drew the blankets more securely over both of them as she settled her head against his chest with a massive yawn.
“Whatever, yo…maybe Max and Kiki can go. Me, you, Hank, and Jules can handle the demon.”
“Shhhh…sleep now. Love you…said that, right?”
“Yeah, love you, too. G’won t’ sleep.”
With an incoherent murmur, she nuzzled him briefly before her breathing began to deepen and even out, every puff of air warm and soothing against his skin. The hand that curled against her cheek where it lay on his chest was just as warm, save for the cool, smooth surface of the platinum wedding band on her finger. Reaching up, he linked his fingers through hers, savoring the soft chink that sounded as their rings clicked against each other.
He was gone a lot, but she was always there when he came home…helping Hank with her homework, hunting with Carter, plugging away at the diner…living her life with a ring on her finger and a promise in her heart to love a man that couldn’t give her much more than his heart and soul.
The perfect wife he didn’t deserve…and all he had to find her was steal her kill.
The notion brought a smile to his lips as he finally let himself drift off to sleep, safe in his own personal Heaven as he lay in the arms of his bloodthirsty angel.