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A deathwish is usually made long before it's realized. Before she was ever made Valentine, Faye was the type of girl who chased after dreams and would leap off the edge of a cliff without looking down. Reckless abandon was encouraged by a pair of parents so caring and attentive that she never wanted for anything, parents who cleared the path of brambles and branches for their daughter, never letting her feel so much as a scratch. To the girl who lived a life of safety, danger and risk were intoxicating and quickened the heart in a way that not even love could, forming thoughts that persisted even when memories had long since faded and broken away.
From early on, Faye was made to be a hunter.
It shows now, in the bright red that runs down from her knee and the harsh breathing that barely manages to fill her lungs. Her gun is held still and the aim true, save for the slight rattle of the weapon that comes from hands being raised through sheer willpower alone. All around Faye, their blood painting books dusty from disuse, are the bodies of Splicers. Figures, she's murmured to herself, that they'd all be hiding out behind stacks of books. Figures, that even men who lose their minds are nothing other than cowards.
Her breath is ragged with a slight protest, an unwillingness on Faye's part to let go. She just has one more. One more Splicer, who lopes around with predatory intent, that Faye needs to put down. She can do it. She could do it. But her vision is starting to swim and adrenaline is learning to fade, replaced by fatigue as her heel grinds against tile and startles the creature, inspires a flying rage.
"Shit," she bites out, raising her voice as she stumbles back, firing a couple of shots that barely clip its shoulder. "Dammit, hold still!"
From early on, Faye was made to be a hunter.
It shows now, in the bright red that runs down from her knee and the harsh breathing that barely manages to fill her lungs. Her gun is held still and the aim true, save for the slight rattle of the weapon that comes from hands being raised through sheer willpower alone. All around Faye, their blood painting books dusty from disuse, are the bodies of Splicers. Figures, she's murmured to herself, that they'd all be hiding out behind stacks of books. Figures, that even men who lose their minds are nothing other than cowards.
Her breath is ragged with a slight protest, an unwillingness on Faye's part to let go. She just has one more. One more Splicer, who lopes around with predatory intent, that Faye needs to put down. She can do it. She could do it. But her vision is starting to swim and adrenaline is learning to fade, replaced by fatigue as her heel grinds against tile and startles the creature, inspires a flying rage.
"Shit," she bites out, raising her voice as she stumbles back, firing a couple of shots that barely clip its shoulder. "Dammit, hold still!"
(no subject)
Date: 2011-10-14 05:42 am (UTC)But it isn't, and his fingers curl, knuckles striking hard against the wall even as his hips never miss a beat.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-10-14 05:58 am (UTC)She asks for an apology with eyes bright, though what it's for, she still isn't sure she entirely knows. Intimacy hangs around them like a shroud, one that the fire can't quite touch, and this time when Faye leans in, it's to kiss the corner of his mouth, her thumb running down his cheek, even as the kiss is punctuated by a gasp as a thrill passes through her, to her toes, sending a small shudder through her. Forcing her free hand to drag down his side, holding him close.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-10-14 06:15 am (UTC)"Just come," he says, reaching to press his thumb to her clit, and god, if he only gets one thing right this month, let it be this. "Please, just come for me."
(no subject)
Date: 2011-10-14 06:27 am (UTC)But the gasp comes too soon, and frustration burns within her until it passes through her with a cry, ragged and rough, tearing through her with a muffled scream. Even as everything crashes around her, she holds on, holds on and refuses to let go until he falls as well, refuses to let his name drop from her lips again just yet. It has already, and too many times at that.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-10-18 03:53 am (UTC)Dean shouts, feels orgasm grab him and shake him violently out, as helpless in its grasp as any ragdoll. He sobs out the worst of his pleasure into the curve of her throat, eyes screwed up tight and mouth wide and gasping.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-10-18 09:15 am (UTC)With slow breaths, in and out, Faye shifts until her nose presses against his temple, lips parted. Though it takes a few seconds for sensation to set in fully again, the first thought she has is of how warm she feels. How safe, even like this, strength sapped to the bone. All an illusion, of course. They're still leagues under the ocean, in a place rife with death and corruption, but for now they've the time, and for now she simple breathes against him, arms still looped around his shoulders, somehow unwilling to be the first person to move or let go.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-10-19 04:01 am (UTC)He knows he'll have to pull away eventually, but he waits until his breath has slowed, then waits some more, face tucked in against her skin where she won't see anything to scare either of them.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-10-19 04:27 am (UTC)"I know I can be good," she remarks, light, a joke, too insubstantial after the weight of the evening. "But I'm not that good."
(no subject)
Date: 2011-10-23 08:02 pm (UTC)He winces, still sensitive skin tingling as he pulls out of her, his muscles tired but enjoying their reprieve. Faye's a mess when he looks up at her, and gloriously so, eyes bright over her flushed cheeks, mussed violet hair falling everywhere. Dean almost wants to start all over again, but her body must be sore, propped up against the wall like that. Dean curls his hands over her hips and starts to ease her down. "Elevator sex," he chuckles, "haven't done that in a while."
(no subject)
Date: 2011-10-23 08:21 pm (UTC)Save for the look on his face, Dean looks like the past half an hour haven't affected him at all, and she wrinkles her nose with momentary jealousy, imagining that she can't have escaped half as unscathed. "I wouldn't call it my venue of choice, but," she shrugs, glancing up again while she tugs her shorts up, slipping the button back into place, and works on getting her hair into any semblance of order before she even tries fighting with her shirt and the boots tossed around on the floor.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-10-24 03:47 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-10-24 03:58 am (UTC)She could listen to such flattery for years and years, if only she could believe that it'd last so long.
"What, you want to announce to the whole world that we just did it in an elevator?" she asks, tone teasing as she raises a hand to brush away some of the smudged dirt on his cheek, careful to avoid the cuts.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-10-24 05:04 am (UTC)He lifts a hand, smooths down the tumble of her hair himself just to feel it, and smiles again. "Good as new. And if not, you can tell anybody who asks we had a tussle. Wouldn't be a lie."
(no subject)
Date: 2011-10-24 05:13 am (UTC)A grin spreads across her face, pleased, and lazily so. "I don't mind. Just as long as I don't get hounded with questions on the way to the shower."
(no subject)
Date: 2011-10-24 05:20 am (UTC)Any illusion Dean might ever had of being smooth with a woman he cares for is just that. "What'd you tell them if you did get asked?"
(no subject)
Date: 2011-10-24 05:27 am (UTC)But it only takes a few seconds before she figures, what would it hurt for people to know that she had a bit of fun?
"That I was stuck in an elevator with Dean Winchester, and we decided on a fun way to pass the time," she decided, raising a brow in challenge. "And I liked it. Unless you don't want news getting out to all the women who'd suddenly start lining up for a turn."
(no subject)
Date: 2011-10-24 05:36 am (UTC)"That's, uh," he says, dropping his gaze, "yeah. S'afraid I was getting rusty."
(no subject)
Date: 2011-10-24 05:42 am (UTC)"Rusty? This isn't exactly a skill you forget after a few months, is it?" she asks, hair falling forward again, framing her face. "It changes with every person. Though..." Her gaze falls to the bathysphere floor, heavy, even as her features continue to try for levity. "That's something I don't need to tell you, I'm sure."