pushing daisies

This is the summary and introduction to the Doctor Who story I’m writing.  :)  Feedback is always welcome.

—

I’ve dreamed of the Doctor all my life; ever since I was a little girl.

I know all his faces. I know all his stories. But none of my own. I know that one day he and I will meet and when we do we’ll have many wonderful adventures… In the end though, something terrible will happen, something that I won’t be able to prevent unless I refuse to go with him.

I know my dreams are real, but sometimes I wish they were just dreams.

—

lina anderson, the girl who dreamed.

He was oddly breathtaking. His smile was childish, but she couldn’t look away. If there was one thing she didn’t want though, it was to look away. He paced the library, angrily, a glass of bourbon and something else in his hand. He swirled the liquid before draining the cup, and chucking it into the fire. She winced as the flames protested and the glass sizzled under its heat.

It was as if he had just noticed her. Just realized she was there, sitting on the sofa rigid and unimposing. She couldn’t remember how she had gotten there, nor could she remember why she had no intention to leave, but he seemed shocked to see her.

“Emma?” His voice was as she remembered it. Soothing and beautiful. He walked over to her, kneeling before as he stared in wonder at the woman before her. It was as if he hadn’t seen her in decades, maybe even centuries when in reality it had only been a few years.

“Hello, Klaus.” He laughed then, abruptly, causing her to start in surprise. She had loved him for as long as she had known him but he terrified her. It’s why she ran away, and it was why she had planned to never see him again. Yet, here she was, sitting in his living room unable to escape.

Klaus seemed at a loss for words then, because he left the room suddenly, and then there was shouting. In another moment he returned in the library with another man, one who was poised and wore a neatly pressed suit. His hair was in a slight disarray, and he looked down at Emma without fondness.

“I thought you might like to see her again,” the man spoke. He shrugged before wrenching his arm from Klaus’ grip. “I know she wanted to see you.”

It was a moment before Klaus spoke again, he seemed to be having an internal struggle with what to say. “Thank you, Elijah. That will be all for now.”

Elijah laughed then, taking a threatening step forward. “I am your brother, Niklaus, not your servant. You should address me as such.” Then Elijah was gone, before flashing another glance in Emma’s direction.

Klaus, looking just as unhappy, spared a look in Emma’s direction as well. While his mouth was in a tight crease, his eyes were vulnerable and if she could’ve moved she would’ve gone to him. Embraced him, comforted him even. But she could not, and she was forced to merely stare at him.

“I wish he hadn’t brought you here,” he whispered, unable to keep his voice steady. “I sent you away for a reason.”

Emma was confused then. She remembered being the one to leave him, she remembered being fearful of him and wanting to escape. She tried to think, tried to remember why she had been so afraid but she could not. She could only remember fear, and love. Love that was so strong now that she was in the same room as him that it almost seemed to overshadow her fear.

She ignored his words, and merely spoke to him, begging him. “Klaus, please, come here.” He obeyed, sitting cautiously beside her, his eyes probing her face for any indication of what was on her mind. “I’ve missed you,” she whispered before wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face in his shoulder.

Klaus’ hands hesitantly twisted themselves in the fabric of her shirt. His head rested on her shoulder, and she could almost imagine the expression he wore. One of uncertainty, and pain. She pulled away from him then, placing a hand on the side of his face, the scruff stabbing into her palm.

She opened her mouth as if to speak, but no words would come out. So instead she kissed him, like she had wanted to do for the last year. His lips wrapped around hers familiarly, and she couldn’t help but sigh into the embrace. Her fingers cupping his jaw and the back of his neck while his entwined into her blonde curls.

The embrace was one so natural to them, which it felt as if they had never stopped. Though, the moment their lips touched, memories flashed before her eyes and she remembered what she had been so afraid of. She remembered why she had run from Klaus.

He was a monster.

—

Emma pulled away from Klaus, gasping. Her hands still cradling his head. He merely stared at her quizzically, his expression unreadable and dark. Almost immediately, she pulled her hands away from him, placing them in her lap. Her heart sped and memories stampeded around in her brain as they flooded in with blurred clarity.

“Oh,” she breathed feeling as if she had just been hit several times with a hammer. Her stomach heaved and she had to lean forward to make sure she didn’t faint. Klaus’ hand brushed her hair away from her neck and for a reason she couldn’t explain she cringed away.

“What is it, love?” Klaus spoke as if she hadn’t just flinched away from him, and traced her spine with a grazing fingertip.

She couldn’t bring herself to answer right away, but she knew she had to get up. “I need to get up, Klaus but I can’t move.” Her voice sounded hoarse even to her own ears, and she could hear the pleading tone hidden beneath. Her panic heightened as she finally forced herself to look at him. “Klaus, why I can’t I get up?”

Emma didn’t miss the hesitation there as he debated on whether telling her the truth was the best option. He swallowed, as if something had been caught in his throat and smiled tightly. “You’ve been compelled to stay where you are, by my brother…Elijah.”

“Compelled?” She remembered what his face had looked like when she had left him a year ago. Lined with blood red veins beneath his eyes, and the sharp teeth…it haunted her dreams but she thought it had only been that, a nightmare.

“You left before I could explain everything to you, Emma. I don’t know how…I don’t know why Elijah brought you here, but I thought you would’ve cringed at the sight of me. Did…did someone tell you to forget me?” Even as he spoke it, he knew it was a stupid question.

Of course she wouldn’t remember had someone compelled her. The very definition of compulsion was memory loss. You did what you were told, no questions asked and you didn’t know why, you just knew that in your gut, you had to do it. But Emma was shaking her head, staring into the distance as if things were becoming even more clear to her now.

“I…no, I remember now. I just…I repressed it. I didn’t want to remember you that way so I didn’t.” She turned to look at him, desperation in her eyes as he forced himself to stay where he was. “Klaus, I’m so sorry I left you. I’ve regretted it for so long…I should’ve listened to you before but I didn’t know how to find you.”

Almost as if she had no control of her body she was scooting impossibly close to him, her hands bunching in the fabric of his shirt. She clung to him as if he was her anchor to sanity and Klaus could only look at her.

She was still the girl he loved, deep down she knew he knew that. But she feared he would never forgive her. Somehow, she had found a way to accept the beast that she saw. Klaus…he was before her now, staring down at her with his dark eyes and boyish expression.

He couldn’t find words to say, and he didn’t know what to even begin to say so instead he simply kissed her. He kissed her like he had never stopped and his fingers curled around the base of her throat, wrapping up to tug at her hair.

Everything over the year dissipated as she melted into his embrace. In her mind, she had never parted from him. They were still curled in a ball on his loveseat, a black and white film playing on the television and popcorn strewn over the coffee table. Their legs entwined and her arms wrapped around his neck.

The room they were in now felt very similar to that night. Though, instead of a television there was a fireplace. The heat emanated against her skin, comfortably warming her. Nothing really mattered now except for him and her and that heat.

His fingers crept up the skirt of her dress, his touch cold against her bare thighs. She shivered at the familiar sensation of his touch. Her restraint was miniscule compared to his and he chuckled as she clawed at the hem of his shirt desperate to be rid of it. He allowed her to pull it over his head, and it landed in a heap beside the sofa.

He playfully tugged a button at the top of her dress and it immediately opened up allowing him to catch sight of her bare chest beneath the thin fabric of the dress. He lifted an eyebrow at her, questioning her lack of clothing. “I wasn’t planning on having company or anything,” she said defensively and Klaus merely laughed before pressing his lips to her jaw.

She curled her fingers in his wavy bronze hair and found herself tensing as his teeth grazed her shoulder. Klaus went rigid under her touch and she feared she had ruined everything with that one unprecedented movement. But only a moment later his lips were back on hers and he was fiercely tearing her dress from her body.

She cried out as the fabric tore in two and she was left in nothing but a pair of black lace panties. It was not uncommon for her, she was used to being naked in front of Klaus but something about the situation they were in caused her to feel strangely shy.

Wanting to cover herself, and seeing nothing but Klaus’ bare chest to do so, she grabbed his shoulders and pulled him down on top of her. There was nothing separating the two now, their skin meshing together, and the thick muscles in his chest smashing her breasts down.

Suddenly he blurred, moving at an incredible speed. His pants flew across the room and landed somewhere she couldn’t see. She glanced down, noticing that he too was without undergarments. She gave him the same accusatory glance he had given her, and he merely laughed at her before slipping his fingers under her panties.

She gasped as he traced the smooth skin there and then he let out an animalistic growl as he was suddenly doing things with his fingers that made her cry out in shock and ecstasy. When they had been together he moved at a pace that was normal to her, something that seemed human. But now he moved inhumanly fast and she found herself wishing he had done this all along.

Then he was inside her and the sounds coming from her mouth were almost as inhuman as the speed he could move. Her fingers clawed down his back and she watched in astonishment between cries of pleasure as the red lines faded almost instantly back to his normally pale, freckled skin.

His lips had moved back to the top of her shoulder, his teeth grazing the skin there and she couldn’t even bring herself to flinch. It was as if all the bones in her body had turned to jelly, and his fingers were the only things keeping her steady.

Soon after they both lay on the sofa in a heap, her chest lifting in exertion as he watched her curiously. He had taken a quilt off the back of the sofa and draped it across their naked figures.

“I have really missed you,” he murmured, his lips pressed against her ear. “Don’t leave me again, okay?”

She grinned at him then, her cheeks flushed with blood. “Well, given that I still can’t leave this couch, I don’t think that’ll be happening anytime soon.”

Klaus merely smiled that childish smile of his and kissed her. “Good.”

Liquor made it’s way down his throat, burning on the way down. He winced, but that was really the only expression he was capable of. He felt completely numb, it was one of those days where everything went to shit. It was all those days that a lot of alcohol and a lot of porn could possibly make everything better. The thought of porn made him groan, made him shift uncomfortably in the booth seat he occupied.

He gazed around the room, searching for anyone he could bring himself to fantasize about. He didn’t have any porn, at least not tonight. And he wasn’t going to waste his money on it, so he might as well use his imagination. He found the perfect model almost immediately.

She sat a table away from him a trench coat wrapped around her busty frame. He imagined her ripping it off and wearing nothing underneath, or possibly some lingerie. But she destroyed his fantasy when she removed it slowly, revealing a thin-strapped vintage styled dress. She was still perfect though. His eyes traveled down her crème skin and to the perfect curve her breasts made.

Blonde hair fell down her back, curling at the ends, and as she turned to face the waiter he could see her pouty pink lips. He felt as if any minute he would explode. Just looking at her did things to him. It was then he came to the conclusion that he had to have her. He took the glass in his hand and poured the rest of his drink down the back of his throat. It didn’t burn this time, but it almost…reassured him.

When the waiter left the girl, he got up and made his way over to her. Standing behind her, his hand hovered over her shoulder until she turned and lifted the corner of her mouth at his mildly confused expression. He quickly redeemed himself by placing his hand on the back of her chair, and allowed his face to lilt into façade of confidence. Though the booze was helping that, he still felt just so…strange coming to this girl.

“Can I help you?” she asked, smiling slightly showing her teeth. “Or are you going to stare at me all night?” For a moment he was flabbergasted. He had been thinking, well he wasn’t entirely sure what he had been thinking. The woman sighed, before laughing slightly. “Let me guess, you’ve never seen anyone as beautiful as me before, and you’d love it if you could buy me a drink?”

His eyes widened. Well, then, there went his pick up line. She smiled again. “There’s no creativity in this world is there?” She stood up and for a moment he was afraid she was going to walk off. “Lucky for you, you’re cute.” It was then she grabbed his tie, a red silk, and tugged him along after her.

The sun set, dimming around the suburbia that Edward used to consider home, even if it was for only a short period of time. He stood in the center of the main road, staring at the home he had been living in; with her. He couldn’t go back. Not ever. They didn’t want him anymore, but he craved them. Edward watched through the windows as the family ate dinner, something that still took him hours to accomplish.

He could clearly see the long scar dancing along the daughter’s cheek, even from this distance, and he felt an ache in his makeshift heart. He was the cause of her suffering, and he didn’t know how to fix it without slicing her into ribbons. Glancing down, he stared at the blades replacing fingers, and he frowned. Why couldn’t he be finished?

Why did everything he touch have to fall to pieces? He couldn’t feel. He couldn’t run his knives along someone’s skin without making them bleed.

The streetlights flickered on and he glanced around frantically, afraid that someone was near; afraid that someone would see him. Everyone was afraid of him now. Everyone wanted to be rid of him, to destroy him.

He was already destroyed.

He snuck closer to the house, peering over a bush, his eyes trailing once again to the blonde. She was still beautiful. She was still flawless, even with the scars he’d given her. Edward frowned again, placing his hand against the glass. The deep screeching sound it made hurt Edward’s ears and he instantly went to cover them, only cutting his cheeks in the process.

He whimpered, flinching.

“Edward?” The voice was muffled and his eyes widened looking up to see the entire family turned in his direction. His lips parted in fear and he turned, running as fast as he could without swinging his arms.

Someone, he thought he knew who, called his name again, and he could hear their footsteps chasing after him. He ran until he reached his home; a large mansion, sagging and dark.

“Edward, wait! Stop!” Edward turned then, finding the blonde just feet from him, her hands on her knees as she struggled to keep her breath. She looked up, meeting his dark eyes. She straightened, walking slowly to stand before him.

The smile on her face hurt Edward’s heart. She shouldn’t be happy to see him. She reached out to touch his face, noticing the two long stripes of blood on his cheek but he flinched away.

“Edward…” Her voice was soft as she stepped closer again. “I thought you were gone…I thought you’d left.” Edward could only shake his head. She smiled, almost laughed before wrapping her arms around his torso.

He clenched his jaw as he tried to keep his scissorhands from touching her. She felt the emptiness without his embrace and stepped away, glancing up at his white scarred face. He opened his mouth, empty words making their way through his throat.

“I wish….” He stopped, closing his mouth until she reached over to touch his cheek.

“What do you wish, Edward?”

“I wish I could touch you.” A single tear made its way down Edward’s cheek, Kim’s thumb stroking it away as she smiled sadly at the boy. “I wish I could feel you.”

If there was one thing Elizabeth was not, it was a fool. She knew there had to be wrong with the man choking black smoke out of her sister. She knew there had to be something wrong because he was not physically touching Jenna. He simply had his hand jutted outward, his fingers curling around an invisible throat and black smoke seeped from between her sister’s lips.

She had no idea why it was taking her so damn long to run to her sister’s safety, but not only was she mystified by what this person was doing…she was terrified. Why was this substance inside of her sister? Why did it need to be done? And finally, what the hell was that star on the ground?

Then the smoke disappeared into the now burning ground and her sister was unconscious. It was then that she commanded her feet to move. “Jenna!” she cried, before running forward. She made it only a few steps forward when the man grabbed her around the waist and hauled her away from her sister.

He threw her back and she collapsed into a flimsy wooden table that fell inward on impact. She cried out as the wood scraped at her arms and she heard the man swear as he bent down to help her up. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” he faltered, glancing up at her still unconscious sister. “I don’t know if…Jenna is alright.”

“I wouldn’t think so after what you did to her,” Elizabeth spat. She paused. “What exactly did you do to her?” After that he seemed to look up and search for an answer that wasn’t there. He swore under his breath again before catching sight of the freshly inflicted gash on Elizabeth’s arm.

“You’re hurt,” he mumbled, pulling her to her feet before walking to her sister. He placed two fingers at her throat checking for a pulse before his eyes faltered shut. “Damn, Ruby…she didn’t make it.” Elizabeth jumped as a brunette woman emerged from the shadows, and smirked almost menacingly at Elizabeth.

“Can’t save everybody, Sammy,” Ruby snarled, and Elizabeth knew she was mocking him. “Tell the girl what you have to, but get it over with fast. I’ll bury the body.”

“Wait, what? You’re not going to do anything to Jenna…” the words were lost on Elizabeth’s lips as Ruby glared at her with black eyes.

—

Elizabeth was a stubborn girl. If there was something she wanted, she got it. Or she would do anything in her power to get it. So when Sam explained to her the world he lived in, one with ghosts, and demon blood and hypnotic powers…she wanted proof. Sam tried to explain how dangerous it was, how she wouldn’t feel right there…how she didn’t belong there.

“I belong as much as you do,” she hissed. “It took my sister from me…what did it take from you?”

The look on Sam’s face told her everything she needed to know in that moment. But he answered anyway. “Everything,” he whispered. “My parents…my brother.” His face turned stony then, his fists clenching into fists.

Then his eyes met hers, and the look on them was frightening and she could see the determination beneath them. “What could you possibly be capable of? You were not born into this like I was…you don’t know the first thing about hunting a demon…I bet you can’t even fight.”

He was right. Elizabeth couldn’t fight. She could barely throw a punch…let alone run a mile. How was she supposed to kill monsters? “You can teach me.”

Sam scoffed, turning his back on her. “Even if I could, what makes you think I would?”

Elizabeth stood still for a moment, sitting down on the flimsy wooden chair her sister’s corpse had just briefly occupied. The warmth of Jenna’s body made Elizabeth shiver as she stared at the ground…she forced back welling tears before looking up at Sam and catching his eye. “You wouldn’t leave me in this world, unprotected. I can tell…you’re a good person, even if you have something demonic in you.”

Elizabeth was naïve. She was a stupid little girl who was about to make a very big mistake by putting her trust into Sam Winchester.

—

Her heart was racing. Her chest rising and falling with exertion. She had nearly tripped over her own feet as she followed Sam’s fleeing body. There were many times where she thought he had left her but just as she was nearing hysteria he would pop up and grab her arm to help her move along.

Were they going to die? Was all that training for nothing? Was all of this for nothing? Not that she had a real purpose in this world…it was just a vengeance gig. But then again that was the same for Sam…he just had a little extra help what with the psychic abilities and all.

“In here,” Sam panted as he shouldered open the door to a conveniently abandoned shack. He dropped the duffle bag he had lugged along on the ground, unzipped it and tossed a carton of salt to Elizabeth. She knew what to do, and while she lined salt beneath doors and windows, Sam drew a Devil’s Trap big enough that if anyone were to step foot in the room they would be trapped.

They were temporarily safe…until something bigger or better came along.

Elizabeth sat on one of the limited surfaces in the room, trying desperately to quietly catch her breath. Sam was staring out one of the windows, ignoring Elizabeth. She stared at him with a muted fascination, had ever since he had taught her to properly throw a punch. That was merely weeks ago and yet she was positive she was ready to face something with him.

They chose something a little out of their league. Or rather her league. Sam might’ve been able to take care of the monsters outside the cabin if he hadn’t been worried about her. So it was her fault this mess was created. It only made sense.

It was a long time before either of them moved. Sam shoved away from the window and forced himself to approach Elizabeth. His eyes roamed her body, and whether it was checking for injuries or just…checking, she wasn’t sure. His eyes finally met hers and she felt herself shying away.

“Is it everything you were expecting it to be?” Sam finally said, bitterness evident in his voice. Elizabeth swallowed, her jaw clenching as she lifted her chin to further dignify herself. “I told you, you shouldn’t be in this world.” She was shocked when her chin was suddenly in his grip.

“Sam—“

“I’m not a good person, Elizabeth. I have demon blood inside of me. Why would you put your trust in me? Why would you let yourself be alone with me?”

Suddenly Elizabeth was very confused. What were they talking about exactly? Why was he looking at her this way…he was coming closer….oh.

His lips hovered above hers, just barely brushing her upper lip. His breath was hot on her tongue and her eyes were dipping as she readied herself for whatever was about to come. It was unexpected but not unwanted. She said his name again but it wasn’t a denial this time…it was more like an acceptance. But not without greed.

His palm moved away from her chin and slid down her throat, gripping gently but enough to constrict her airway. Her mouth parted as she gasped in surprise. “Why would you let yourself be alone with me?” he repeated before he smashed his mouth against hers, his free hand running up the back of her neck and grabbing a handful of dark hair.

She cried out as he pulled her back, her throat exposed as his hand slid down her chest, dipping into the curve. His mouth was on hers again and she found her hands gripping the sides of the table, her legs spreading to wrap around his waist.

His lips and tongue travelled down the side of her cheek, her jaw, and her throat, digging into the fleshy part of her shoulder. The sound that erupted from her lips was unnatural. Animalistic almost, and her own hands lifted to grip onto Sam’s shoulders.

His shirt was on the ground and then her flannel, and a belt…whose belt? She wasn’t sure. Clothes were flying around the room and her skin was slick with sweat and Sam’s tongue. Then her pants were gone and he was between her legs and her eyes were widening when her stomach started spasmodically clenching.

She swore, lifting her chin as she cried out even more sweat pouring down her now bare back. When he lifted himself back to her lips, his hands delved beneath her body, grasping onto her buttocks and lifting her so she was propped up on his waist.

His hand was wrapped around tendrils of her hair and as he used them as support he slammed her back into the cabin’s flimsy walls. The two moved around the room, sometimes on the floor or against the wall. Once attempting to use the table but it broke and they ended up on the floor once more.

It continued like this for a while, tongue and saliva and pumping and throbbing. Until the door was kicked open and a very disgusted Ruby remained in the doorway. “You just can’t keep it in your pants can you, Sam?”

The sky was beginning to darken as she made her way behind trees and over branches. The fear in her veins was palpitating and she could hear her own heart in her ears. There was no way to escape the path she had taken, no way not to run. The only option, the only word breathing through her hair—escape. It’s the only way, or else you’re dead.

She didn’t realize hot tears had trailed their way down her neck until she paused, taking cover behind a large oak—the shaky breath wracking her body and leaving her in despair. The tears had meshed with the icy sweat covering her back, forcing her nightgown to cling to her body.

The image suddenly flashed behind her eyes with sudden clarity. Blood, flesh, carnage. A man with yellow eyes grinning maliciously, as he slid a thick hand against the skin of her chest. Then she was running again, her breath coming in even thicker heaves as she struggled to stay upright.

Missing the branch below, she stumbled to her knees; her hands unable to break her fall as they tumbled through a shallow ditch in the ground. She managed to muffle her anguished cry by clamping her teeth over the fleshy part of her arm. Blood overflowed past her lips, hot and metallic.

Something was broken, maybe. The pain shooting up her arm was hard to decipher from her hands and the missing flesh on her upper arm. But there wasn’t time to worry because someone was grabbing her and she swung blindly. She had managed to grapple at a branch the moment she had been turned over, and she watched as the man’s skin ripped away just below his jaw.

He cried out in pain and managed to pin her armed hand to the ground—her free hand swinging out, colliding below his eye. He grabbed that one as well, shouting her name until she met his eyes and recognized that unearthly blue-green.

“Dean,” she breathed. Recognition filtering away the horrified haze in her eyes—coloring her voice. “Oh, god, Dean.”

Her wrists were released and were soon wrapped around his neck. “It’s alright,” he said, voice husky with effort. “You’re safe now.”

—

She couldn’t remember how she had arrived in the dirty motel. All she remembered is the tears and her inability to stop whispering his name. The fact that she found herself in his arms, the fact that he had once again saved her from a probable inevitable death was unbelievable.

The bed wasn’t comfortable as she sat on it, staring numbly at the wall across from her. Dean was in the bathroom, doing what she wasn’t sure—but it didn’t seem to matter. She realized that Sam was missing, but she never really seemed to see the boy while she and Dean were together.

When Dean emerged from the bathroom, bandages spotting the places she had managed to slice open in her blind fury. She stood then, her eyes running over his poor battered face. Dirt smudged across his forehead and cheeks and though his face was grimy it managed to make his eyes glow.

Hesitantly, she found herself lifting her unmarred hand to run gently along the wound of his neck. She smiled apologetically. His face remained stoic as he led her back to the bed and started bandaging her battered wrist.

She grimaced as she found herself staring at the puncture wound. A branch had sliced clear through her hand, somehow missing bone as it did so. The blood wasn’t the worst part, but the fact that she could see clear through her hand had her nearly gagging. Dean noticed this and quickened his pace.

“To be honest, I have no idea how that’s going to heal,” he stated, dry humor in his voice. He sat back then, and looked up at her. The expression on his face; the watering of his eyes nearly broke her to even more fragmented pieces. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice cracking. “I’m sorry that I dragged you into this.”

She didn’t let him finish, because he didn’t need to. She wanted this—or at least, she wanted him.

—-

The ceiling was cracked and brown, the fan wobbled as it swung it self in circles disturbing the peaceful dust. Dirt found her lungs and she coughed, sitting up. She couldn’t remember falling asleep—time seemed to keep losing meaning to her. But there was something familiar about this picture, something almost wrong.

Dean was gone. She found herself standing, slowly; her balance mediocre as she used the peeling walls for support. The bathroom was closed, but she tried the handle anyway and it budged.

She wasn’t expecting for anyone else to be in there. Luckily, she hadn’t walked in on any bodily functions. Dean was sitting on the brim of the bathtub, his hands in his face—his back shaking. Her heart made its way to her throat as a sudden hand grasped it and tugged it around like it was merely a toy; a puppet unattached to her soul.

Words couldn’t push past her lips so she merely took his hand away from his face. Her fingers ran over his battered knuckles and she saw that he was watching her with salt-stained cheeks and red eyes.

She released his hand and slowly, moved forward to press her broken lips against his. It started as just mouth against mouth; lips against lips. But the moment his hand slid up her arm to wrap around the back of her neck, his teeth ground against her lower lip. There was nothing gentle about the kiss; there was no patience, only erratic urgency.

His tongue flitted out to catch the stray trails of blood that escaped the new wound he had created—her lips parted in ecstasy as he sucked on her lower lip. Crying out as he tugged her by the hem of her shirt, the two collided and she had her own fingers twining through his hair.

Tongues danced together, leaving no room for oxygen as the desperation slunk past their lips in low groans and moans. Her hands snuck under his t-shirt, making their way past mountains and hills to his chest. Her nails made crescent shaped empty rivers and his hands caught her wrists halting her.

He shoved her away so that he could remove his shirt and then he stood, pressing her back against the bathroom wall with his chest. She didn’t know what to grab so she settled with lacing her fingers through her hair and tugging hard. His tongue made a full design along her jaw and down her neck before the sound of ripping fabric reached her ears.

Her nightgown fell to the floor in two pieces leaving her almost utterly exposed to him. He fell to his knees and she watched with foggy eyes as his tongue danced above her panties waistband and up her stomach—delving in her belly button. The hot wet trail up her abdomen turned cold as his mouth returned to hers and his hands wrapped around her thighs and lifted them to enclose his waist.

Her teeth dug into his shoulder and neck as he walked the two over to the main room. He dropped her on the bed, not leaving her alone for long before he hovered over her. It was the first time either one actually looked at each other since she had kissed him; his eyes met her and she didn’t miss the genuine smile gracing his full lips.

She propped herself on her elbows and pressed her lips to his bare chest. He shoved her back down, thumbing the waistband of her panties before sliding them down her legs and returning back to their previous location with his tongue. She found herself gasping, trying to hold her breath as wave after wave of pleasure wracked her body.

She swore loudly as he left her and shoved his tongue past her lips. She nearly giggled but quickly felt his erection press against her thigh. Her hands left his hair to fumble uselessly at the belt of his pants. He chuckled, sitting up and reaching behind in his ankle before whipping out a blade. Her eyes widened as the blade came towards her and sliced through the thin material of her bra.

The questioning glare she gave him received a shrug before he removed his belt for her and lowered his pants. His tongue encircled her breast as he leaned forward and soon as she wrapped her thighs around his waist, he was pressed deeper into her than she thought possible.

Thriving, slick skin against skin. Dripping sweat, tongue playing, shaking limbs. Then the door opened and Sam Winchester stood in the doorway looking extremely confused—then disturbed.