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Title: Not Gonna Break
Author: Kelios
Crossover: Supernatural, Highlander (in that Dean is an Immortal)and Aliens 4
Pairing: Dean/Ripley
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Explicit sex and language
A/N: Yeah, it's crack. But it got in my head and this was the only way to make it let go.
Dean used to think he was pretty bad-ass. Immortal, strong, tough--after all, he'd managed to survive the Reaping, or whatever it was called--head and other body parts still firmly attached, and he's still surviving quite nicely 300 years later.
But that ended about five minutes ago. He's pretty sure the chick with the basketball could take him apart without breaking a sweat--and God he wants her to try. She's lean and hard and gorgeous, moving with a predatory grace that has him hard and aching in moments, even though she never even looks at him as she circles the court. He presses a hand gently against his cock, small whimper escaping him, and she stops suddenly, nostrils flaring. She tosses the ball one handed over her shoulder and his eyebrows rise as it falls neatly through the hoop at the far end of the court. Then she's walking toward him, stalking him, and his knees go weak with the thought that the door is too far away, even if he wanted to run.
She stops about six inches away and regards him curiously. He's mesmerized by the contrast--her eyes are cold, inhuman, but her body is vibrantly alive. He manages not to flinch when she raises a hand to his face in an oddly gentle caress.
"You're pretty," she says, voice low and husky. "Do you want to play?" The words sound childish, but the heat in her voice is far from innocent.
"Fuck yes." Dean's voice is hoarse, raspy, and God damn, he hasn't been this close to coming in his jeans since he was a kid. He takes a deep breath, shuddering as he tries to get himself under control. Her nostrils flare again and she moans faintly. "You smell good," she whispers, and somehow they've moved so that Dean's shoulders hit the wall when he takes an involuntary step back.
She leans into him, a hand on either side of his head, and buries her face in his neck. He can feel her mouth move on his skin as she drags in his scent and taste and Christ that's hot. He reaches for her blindly, finds her narrow hips and pulls her in tight, head falling back as he rubs her body against his swollen cock. She freezes at his touch, then undulates against him, ragged moan slipping from her as she feels how hard he is.
Dean's in familiar territory, now, and instinct takes over. He slides a hand up her body til he can cup her head, tilt her face so that their lips meet. The kiss is quick and gentle--has to be, lips are too fragile, too easy to break, and he knows what her blood will do to him--but his hands aren't, one fisting in her hair to pull her back so that he can bite and suck and lick his way down her neck, the other sliding under her shirt to pinch and tease her small, tight breasts. She's writhing under his touch, grinding against him and suddenly it's too much. He tries to turn them, wants to pin her against the wall and fuck her til they both see stars, but she's too strong. She holds him in place easily and her effortless hold makes him throb against his zipper so hard it actually hurts. He settles for working his pants open, groaning in relief as his cock springs free.
She steps away from him, tossing her clothes aside casually, and her body is amazing. Dean can see the muscles ripple under her skin, see twisting lines of old scars that he wants to trace with his hands and mouth. Her eyes aren't cold anymore--they're damn near molten, practically burning Dean as they take him in, sprawled against the wall, waiting for her to come back. She doesn't look away as she twists her hands in his shirts and pulls, buttons and material flying apart abruptly. She uses the bunched material to drag him to her and covers his mouth with hers, lips and teeth and tongue eating at him as she forces him back against the wall.
Dean loses himself under her assault, forgets to be careful and gentle. He shoves his mouth against hers--he doesn't care that her blood is acid, he just wants to taste it if he can, but she doesn't let him. Instead she kisses and bites over his chin, his jaw, his neck until she can lick the ancient tattoo still visible on his chest, sucking it so hard he can feel the bruise already forming. He groans, drags blunt nails down her back hard enough to leave welts on her pale skin from her shoulders to her hips, marking her the way she marked him. She shudders and pulls back just enough to look at him.
"You aren't afraid." It's a statement, wondering and satisfied at the same time.
"Well....maybe a little," Dean admits, drawing his nails down her back again to feel her body move against his. "Having a hole burned through me won't feel very good, even if it won't kill me."
"You aren't afraid," she repeats. She nuzzles his neck, then whispers against his ear. "All the others were afraid." Her hands slide down Dean's body, pushing his jeans down his hips. He gets the hint and strips, jeans and boots abandoned thoughtlessly. He keeps his amulet on, her breathy moans when it digs into her skin running straight to his cock.
When he pushes her against the wall this time, she goes willingly, and God she feels so good, tight and hot and wet all around him as he thrusts hard and rough. She screams when she comes, and the sound makes him crazy, makes him slam into her over and over, like he wants to go through her body and out the other side. He bites down hard on her collarbone and she spasms around him again and again until they are both spent and panting.
He slides to his knees, taking her with him. He smiles and draws a deep shuddering breath. "That was amazing," he says finally.
"Mmmm," she agrees. "It was good." She toys with the tattoo on his chest, tracing the lines with her nails, and he shivers. "Fear is for prey," she says softly, and her eyes aren't cold anymore but they still aren't human. "But you I want to keep."
Author: Kelios
Crossover: Supernatural, Highlander (in that Dean is an Immortal)and Aliens 4
Pairing: Dean/Ripley
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Explicit sex and language
A/N: Yeah, it's crack. But it got in my head and this was the only way to make it let go.
Dean used to think he was pretty bad-ass. Immortal, strong, tough--after all, he'd managed to survive the Reaping, or whatever it was called--head and other body parts still firmly attached, and he's still surviving quite nicely 300 years later.
But that ended about five minutes ago. He's pretty sure the chick with the basketball could take him apart without breaking a sweat--and God he wants her to try. She's lean and hard and gorgeous, moving with a predatory grace that has him hard and aching in moments, even though she never even looks at him as she circles the court. He presses a hand gently against his cock, small whimper escaping him, and she stops suddenly, nostrils flaring. She tosses the ball one handed over her shoulder and his eyebrows rise as it falls neatly through the hoop at the far end of the court. Then she's walking toward him, stalking him, and his knees go weak with the thought that the door is too far away, even if he wanted to run.
She stops about six inches away and regards him curiously. He's mesmerized by the contrast--her eyes are cold, inhuman, but her body is vibrantly alive. He manages not to flinch when she raises a hand to his face in an oddly gentle caress.
"You're pretty," she says, voice low and husky. "Do you want to play?" The words sound childish, but the heat in her voice is far from innocent.
"Fuck yes." Dean's voice is hoarse, raspy, and God damn, he hasn't been this close to coming in his jeans since he was a kid. He takes a deep breath, shuddering as he tries to get himself under control. Her nostrils flare again and she moans faintly. "You smell good," she whispers, and somehow they've moved so that Dean's shoulders hit the wall when he takes an involuntary step back.
She leans into him, a hand on either side of his head, and buries her face in his neck. He can feel her mouth move on his skin as she drags in his scent and taste and Christ that's hot. He reaches for her blindly, finds her narrow hips and pulls her in tight, head falling back as he rubs her body against his swollen cock. She freezes at his touch, then undulates against him, ragged moan slipping from her as she feels how hard he is.
Dean's in familiar territory, now, and instinct takes over. He slides a hand up her body til he can cup her head, tilt her face so that their lips meet. The kiss is quick and gentle--has to be, lips are too fragile, too easy to break, and he knows what her blood will do to him--but his hands aren't, one fisting in her hair to pull her back so that he can bite and suck and lick his way down her neck, the other sliding under her shirt to pinch and tease her small, tight breasts. She's writhing under his touch, grinding against him and suddenly it's too much. He tries to turn them, wants to pin her against the wall and fuck her til they both see stars, but she's too strong. She holds him in place easily and her effortless hold makes him throb against his zipper so hard it actually hurts. He settles for working his pants open, groaning in relief as his cock springs free.
She steps away from him, tossing her clothes aside casually, and her body is amazing. Dean can see the muscles ripple under her skin, see twisting lines of old scars that he wants to trace with his hands and mouth. Her eyes aren't cold anymore--they're damn near molten, practically burning Dean as they take him in, sprawled against the wall, waiting for her to come back. She doesn't look away as she twists her hands in his shirts and pulls, buttons and material flying apart abruptly. She uses the bunched material to drag him to her and covers his mouth with hers, lips and teeth and tongue eating at him as she forces him back against the wall.
Dean loses himself under her assault, forgets to be careful and gentle. He shoves his mouth against hers--he doesn't care that her blood is acid, he just wants to taste it if he can, but she doesn't let him. Instead she kisses and bites over his chin, his jaw, his neck until she can lick the ancient tattoo still visible on his chest, sucking it so hard he can feel the bruise already forming. He groans, drags blunt nails down her back hard enough to leave welts on her pale skin from her shoulders to her hips, marking her the way she marked him. She shudders and pulls back just enough to look at him.
"You aren't afraid." It's a statement, wondering and satisfied at the same time.
"Well....maybe a little," Dean admits, drawing his nails down her back again to feel her body move against his. "Having a hole burned through me won't feel very good, even if it won't kill me."
"You aren't afraid," she repeats. She nuzzles his neck, then whispers against his ear. "All the others were afraid." Her hands slide down Dean's body, pushing his jeans down his hips. He gets the hint and strips, jeans and boots abandoned thoughtlessly. He keeps his amulet on, her breathy moans when it digs into her skin running straight to his cock.
When he pushes her against the wall this time, she goes willingly, and God she feels so good, tight and hot and wet all around him as he thrusts hard and rough. She screams when she comes, and the sound makes him crazy, makes him slam into her over and over, like he wants to go through her body and out the other side. He bites down hard on her collarbone and she spasms around him again and again until they are both spent and panting.
He slides to his knees, taking her with him. He smiles and draws a deep shuddering breath. "That was amazing," he says finally.
"Mmmm," she agrees. "It was good." She toys with the tattoo on his chest, tracing the lines with her nails, and he shivers. "Fear is for prey," she says softly, and her eyes aren't cold anymore but they still aren't human. "But you I want to keep."