Emma
By the time the world stopped in odd, disjointed little chunks, Emma was in the shower. It was nice in the shower. There weren’t any dead bodies there. The shower was vastly superior to everywhere else she’d ever been in her life, as long as there were no bodies.
The floor of the shower was under her butt. It took a minute to connect that thought with the one that was asking why her butt was cold. Her butt was cold because she was sitting on the tile floor of a shower. She looked around, blinking water out of her eyes. Not her shower. Someone else’s shower. This shower was substantially nicer than hers. But the water was cold. That was horrible.
She reached out behind her until she found the wall, and then felt around until she found the shower knobs. She fiddled with them for a few moments, and the cold stream of water coming down from the rainfall shower head changed to be much warmer. That was good. Being warm was better than being cold.
Being warm made her thoughts liquefy and she started remembering things. Like what it looked like when a head was disconnected from a body. Nothing but gore where the neck should be.
She felt the loose, hot urp crawling up from her belly, and bent forward, spattering stomach acid on the tile. There was nothing solid left to throw up. She’d tossed all of that on the gravel after she’d seen it for the first time.
She’d never known that person when they were alive. That ought to have made it easier. Somehow, it got harder. She didn’t like that, things being harder. She stuck her face back under the spray and tried to let it wash away the thoughts that were accumulating in her brain.
A quiet, polite tap on the bathroom door made her heart skip up into double time. Logically she knew the only person knocking on that door was Dean, but on this fucking day, she wasn’t sure she’d have been surprised if Elvis turned up. The door cracked open just enough to let his voice in, not his eyes or his body, and bless him for that — and she heard Dean’s voice. “Emma? It’s me. Do you need help with anything?”
“No,” she replied, then heard the quaver in her voice. “Wait, yes.”
He stepped into the room quickly, closing the door behind him. “What do you need?” His gaze was focused tightly on her face, even though she could feel the water dripping down her nipples and making trails down her belly.
“I don’t want to be alone.”
He nodded as if this were a perfectly logical request. “Do you want to be not alone with me out here, or not alone with me in there?”
She barely had to think about it. She needed him to fuck her senseless, fuck her until she could sleep without seeing that poor person’s bloated face. She chased the image away before she made herself sick. She let her fingers wander until she was tweaking her nipple, her gaze focused on him. He licked his lips, but he didn’t look down. “I want you to come in here with me.”
He had to clear his throat twice before he could speak. “And what do you want me to do, once I’m in there with you?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“I think so. But I want to hear you say it.”
She smiled, the water finally spreading some warmth past the surface layer of her skin. “I want you to fuck me. As hard as you want to.”
“Okay,” he said. He was out of his clothes and into the shower before she had time to reconsider. Which was, all things told, a beautiful choice on his part. He pressed her against the wall, catching her between the heat of his skin and the cold tiles behind her, and it felt amazing.
“How are you holding up?” he asked as he leaned over and ghosted his lips over her neck.
She curled her arms around his neck and let him take some of her weight. “Distracted,” she said. “Unfocused. It’s hard to think straight. I keep zigzagging.”
“I see,” he said. He leaned back just a little, his hand slipping between them. He didn’t hesitate, just pressed his fingers down through her curls and found her clit, trapping it almost delicately between his forefinger and middle finger. She sighed against him, spreading her thighs to give him better access. “Does this help you focus?”
“Yes,” she murmured, and he tugged at her clit with a gentleness that made her gasp again, rocking against him. Letting her hang on his neck, his other hand found her breast, teasing at her nipple and flicking it with his thumb. The rhythm was different, nothing she could focus on in either spot. It was perfect. No pressure, no urgency, just quiet, delicate teasing. His lips traced feather-light patterns on her neck, down her shoulders.
She could feel him hardening against her, but he didn’t seem to be concerned or worried at all. Merely taking his time, enjoying her soft, shifting movements.
It was a good feeling, light, freeing. No demands, no declarations. Calm, reassuring need.
Until it wasn’t anymore. Until it flipped over some odd boundary in her mind, and she was desperate, keening and shifting against his hand as she tried to get more contact, more pressure, something to intensify the delicate arousal that was twisting her belly up in knots. He groaned into her mouth, his fingers turning harsh and brutal on her nipple before he left her breast behind, taking his fingers down between her thighs and slipping first one, and then two fingers inside of her. She knew how slick and wet she was, how desperately she wanted him to drive her up into that tiled wall, her body aching and stretching around him at this angle. Her fingers, or his, finding her clit and taking her over the edge.
But there was absolutely no way he had a condom with him. Shit.
“You don’t—” He curled his fingers forward, hitting a sweet spot that made her body sing, and she cried out, her nails digging into the back of his neck. He let out a little hiss of air, but he didn’t stop. “Condom—” she managed to sputter out, before cursing as he found the rhythm he seemed to enjoy, pressing down on her clit and up on that spot in a firm but unhurried pattern that left her surging.
“Hush,” he said, kissing her neck again. “Let me take care of you.”
She let him take care of her as he filled her, his hands refusing to go fast, refusing to take her as far as she wanted to go. He surged and retreated, and she hooked a leg up and over his waist to give him better access.
“Good girl,” he murmured into her mouth again, and he shifted so that the length of his shaft was pressed up against her slit. She gasped, her eyes closing, her mouth wide open, as she felt the orgasm boiling up inside of her, rippling through her as she ground down onto the length of his cock, wishing he was inside of her, and grateful that he was “taking care of her” however he could. As her body pulsed, she sagged, her arms around his neck the only thing holding her up. He caught her around the waist and braced her weight, letting her sway in his arms.
After a moment, he turned off the water, wrapped her in a towel, and then lifted her into his arms. She was distantly surprised at how easily he picked her up. They were of similar heights, but she didn’t seem to weigh anything noticeable to him. That was delicious. He carried her into the bedroom and placed her down gently on sheets that felt fresh and clean. He started to step back, but his erection was still deliciously hard, and Emma reached out to him, grabbing his hip.
“Don’t go,” she said.
“You need some rest.”
“I need this,” she replied and propped herself up on her elbow so that she could guide his cock into her mouth.
He groaned with something that sounded perilously close to relief and shifted so that she could move more easily. His cock was big enough that she had to relax her jaw and bring her hand into play to come close to stroking his entire shaft. He sighed into the motion, resting one hand on the headboard of the bed, and one knee on the bed, giving himself a way to balance. He was salty and wet, delicious in her mouth, but she only managed to stroke him half a dozen times before he pulled away.
“Move over then,” he said, with a good-humored push. She slid sideways on the bed as he reached into a drawer, pulling out a condom and rolling it into place. She expected him to press down into her, driving her back into the bed and fuck her like he had before, but there was something different in his eyes this time. Instead, he relaxed on his back, his erection jutting up like an exclamation point, and raised an eyebrow.
She shivered just a little. There was something about the way he looked at her as if he already knew her inside and out. It was delicious, delectable, perfect. Straddling him was easy, comfortable. But it would be far too simple to just take him inside of her. No, the boy deserved some fun in return for all the torturing he’d been doing on her.
She slid up and down his length, teasing his shaft, like he had done to her. The condom would mute the sensation somewhat, she imagined, but he still bit his lip and shifted under her, striving to flip himself deep inside of her. On the third or fourth stroke, she let him, sinking him deep inside of her in one smooth movement. She gasped at the sensation. Earlier, when they’d fucked, she’d been so wet, and he’d still had to work himself inside of her slowly. This time, she opened easily and readily. He was seated deep inside of her, and she felt her body tense around him, stroking him even before she began to move.
She balanced with her hands on his thighs and rode him, gently at first, enjoying the feeling of her clit dragging along his shaft, the little flip as she reached the tip of him and almost let him slide out before she took him all the way inside again. His hands were resting on her upper thighs, massaging and murmuring little curses and declarations that she couldn’t quite hear. And then his thumbs found her clit. One high up, where her pussy lips joined together into her mons, and one down low, just above the place where she opened for him. His stroking of her was feverish, almost desperate. She started moving faster, watching his breathing and his eyes for how close he was. His lips were tight on his teeth, and his eyes kept closing as he fought to control himself.
“Fuck,” he muttered. “Fuck, fuck, fucking… yes… fucking yes…”
“Let me take care of you,” she said, catching his hands in hers. His eyes widened as she knotted their fingers together and gently pressed his hands down below his shoulders. She felt the flex in his arms and knew he could easily overpower her. It made his acceptance of her power that much more delightful. She leaned forward, getting a better angle, and she rode him. It took her out of the position she wanted most, but the low growl he gave told her that it was exactly what he wanted, and that was all right for now. His hips thrust up, hard and fast until the easiest thing was to move with him, letting him fuck her, even from here.
The moment when he came was nothing but exquisite. His eyes closed first, and his hips surged as his back arched. She rocked with him, holding him deep inside of her, feeling his pulsing cock wrapped up inside of her. For the first time in her life, she wondered what it would feel like to have this moment without latex between herself and her lover. To feel that pulse of arousal and completion deep inside of her, swirling like a transfer of energy between the two of them.
She didn’t realize he had been silent throughout his climax until he dropped back down to the bed, gasping and cursing like a sailor.
“Jesus,” he murmured.
She thought they’d be done, but he pressed up against her in one swift motion, rolling her onto her back. She gave way with a little squeak, laughing. He dropped himself down to her belly, kissing his way down to her curls.
“This okay?” he asked. Ten minutes before, she would have said no, but she nodded her yes as his teeth closed over her clit and she surged against him. His fingers filled her quickly, curling up and stroking that sweet spot as he licked her clit, pressing it delicately with the flat of his tongue before flicking at it and making her gasp. She pressed her hands up over her head, pushing against the headboard to keep from burying her fingers in her hair and fucking his face until she screamed. He kept moving in slow, steady turns. She was gasping, cursing, and desperate for completion, but it wasn’t quite enough.
He pulled back just a little bit from her, his fingers still moving deep inside of her.
“Show me how you like it,” he said, his voice low and rough.
“Oh God,” she murmured, and she was too tired to argue or to feel embarrassed. She took two fingers and pressed them down onto her clit, firm and hard, a little higher than where he’d been. She moved faster than he had been, feeling a bright red blush flood her cheeks, and feeling the roiling pleasure begin to curl into a tight little ball in the pit of her stomach.
“Yeah, baby,” he whispered, pressing one quick, hard kiss to her fingers. She felt the beginning of the peak, and trusting her instincts, turned her fingers so that they were presented to him, glistening and soaking. He groaned with something that sounded like pure pleasure, and sucked them into his mouth, hard and fierce, as he curled his fingers hard inside of her and pulled.
Emma felt like she’d burst into flames. Somewhere else, she could hear a low, gasping moan escaping her throat. She could feel her hips bucking, riding his hand like she’d ridden his cock earlier, and she knew without question that she wanted to stay this moment forever. His fingers curled up in her, his tongue licking every drop of her wetness off her fingers while he moaned and suckled and a second peak came, hard on the heels of the first, and that time she screamed. She clawed at his back, pulling at him, and he climbed her body, pressing soft kisses into her as he kept up that slow, steady pull with his fingers, dragging every last drop of pleasure out of her until she finally collapsed into stardust, her body pulsing around his fingers in fitful convulsions that sent shivers through her entire self.
When her eyes opened, he was there, stroking small circles over the softness of her belly and smiling.
“You went away for a little bit, there,” he said, his voice gentle and teasing. His eyes were so kind. How could a man with such vicious tattoos be so incredibly kind?
“I did,” she murmured back, rolling over on her side, towards him. He obliged by wrapping his arms around her, cuddling her gently into his chest. It felt delicious, sweet, incredibly warm and precious.
“Rest for a little bit,” he said. “I’ll keep an eye on you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Plus, there’s guards outside. Connell has us covered. Rest. Tomorrow will probably be just as long.”
“Okay.” She let her eyes close as she dropped slowly into the relaxation, and let it pull her down into sleep.
###
Dean
Dean held himself perfectly still until he was sure Emma’s breathing had evened out, and she was falling gently into sleep. He’d gone off like a rocket when she’d leaned forward, dropping her breasts into his hands, and then pinned him down to the bed. He’d been tempted to flip her over, press her into the mattress with his weight, and fuck her until she saw stars, but he’d been doing this for her, not for him. She’d given him exactly what he needed earlier. This time was for her. To take her mind off what they’d seen.
Now that it was over, now that she was asleep, and he was alone with his thoughts, he was having trouble shaking the image of Fred’s head separated from his body. He couldn’t decide what the hell was going on. An attack against the Titans, or an attack against him in particular? From the Scorpions or from a third party? There were too many options, and until he could narrow them down, at least a little, he didn’t know how to move forward.
His baby girl, along with the woman he trusted to look after that child, were out there somewhere. God, he hoped they were still out there. He couldn’t let the thought drift all the way through his mind of what would happen if he saw them the same way Fred had been. He needed them both back, safe and healthy.
He looked at Emma as she lay on the bed, her face relaxed and calm. He’d never seen a woman come as hard, as completely, as she had when she was riding him. He’d thought she might come apart entirely, the way she was heaving and surging on top of him. He’d felt so honored, holding her as she sagged throughout.
It was selfish to wish she’d stayed away. He still felt himself wanting it.
He slipped carefully out of bed, making sure not to disturb her. He pulled the covers gently up over her shoulders, watching her roll over gently and snuggle into them with a smile on her sleeping face, and then he pulled on his boxers and left the bedroom.
After he’d put her back on the bike, he’d followed Connell’s directions to the letter. He’d driven through the back roads of town, navigating through the absolute edges of Scorpion territory until he got to one of the safe houses that Connell had set up, years ago. It’d been a long time since the Titans had been involved in any direct, serious conflicts, but in Connell’s mind, that wasn’t the same as it being impossible. Besides, many of the full-timers were in the club because there weren’t too many other members of society that wanted anything to do with them. At least the Titans didn’t sell drugs or weapons. For a lot of the patched members, they’d done their time for offenses that should have been minor but were treated differently because of the color of their skin or the shallowness of their pockets. Getting a job once, you had to check the box marked YES for felon, which wasn’t an easy task. Dean and Connell hired anyone who knew their way around a garage and promised to stay clean of hard drugs. They created a society for the people who’d been pushed out to the edges.
But sometimes shit went down, and for better or worse, they were the kind of people that the law tended to look to first. They were the ones who were more likely to be dragged in for a crime when the police needed to make it look like they were taking action, even though there were no leads, and nothing was happening. It looked good, and how could they even fight back? From a cold-hearted point of view, he could understand the choice.
He didn’t like it.
He didn’t like that he was dragging Emma into this world. At the time, the only thing he’d been able to think of was to take her away from the school — keep her close to him so that she couldn’t make things worse. Now, things were a thousand times worse than he’d even anticipated, even considered, and this innocent woman was stuck in this with him. If something happened to her or Mia or Abbey —
No. He couldn’t think that way. Nothing was going to happen to any of them. Somehow, he would get all four of them out of this — together and alive. No, he didn’t know how yet, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that he was a determined son of a bitch, and he would figure it out. He had to.
His phone rang. He glanced at it in surprise. It was the spare, the one no one had the number to except for Connell and Abbey. Connell would be calling him on the landline, not the cell. The number on it was one he didn’t know. There was absolutely nothing good that was going to come from answering this call.
He picked up the phone anyway. “Hello?”
He heard harsh breathing that sounded, somehow, feminine. “Dean? Dean? Is that you?”
His heart started slamming in his chest, so hard that he thought it was going to tear through his skin and rip a hole in his shirt. “Abbey? Are you okay? Are you hurt.”
“Dean.” She sounded completely panicked, her voice high and thread-like, sounding on the verge of panic. “Dean, it’s me. It’s Abbey.”
His entire body twisted with the need to hold her and protect her from whatever was happening. She sounded so much like Sam, and he didn’t want to be thinking about Sam right now. “I know, sweetheart. I hear you. Where are you? Are you okay?”
There was the sound of flesh on flesh, and then a sharp cry from his sister-in-law. A harsh, masculine voice was on the phone. Dean felt his hands tighten, the knuckles of his free hand creaking, the one holding the phone sounding like it might begin to stress the metal frame. He forced himself to take one breath. Just one. He would kill the stupid shit who had decided to hurt his family.
“You know who this is,” the voice said.
“Funny thing,” Dean said, struggling to keep back the snarl. “I don’t have a fucking clue since this is the first time I’ve heard from you all day.”
“Come to the Scorpions club. Pay the toll. You get in, you get the woman back. You do anything else, and I’ll kill her. You fucking hear me, you piece of shit?”
Dean managed to keep his hand on the phone relatively relaxed, but the one down by his side was clenched so tight it was shaking. “You ever see that Taken movie, the one with Liam Neeson?”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
He was shocked by how quiet and calm he sounded. Maybe to someone else he would sound like a man about to do a deep dive with an AK-57, but compared to the chaos in his heart, his voice and his mind were calm and placid. “The thing about that movie is that he gave you warnings. He told scum like you that he was coming. What he was going to do. Bro, I’m going to tell you this. There isn’t going to be a warning for you. You hear me?”
There was a moment of almost eerie silence, and then a spat curse. “Come to the Scorpions clubhouse. Pay the toll, and she’s yours. And it doesn’t have to get messy.”
“It’s already messy,” Dean said and disconnected the call. He looked through the doorway, and Emma sleeping placidly in the bed, and then he shook his head, tired. He wanted to curl up and sleep. He wanted to keep his promise to Emma that he would personally watch over her and keep her safe. But he wanted Abbey and Mia safe and home. And he didn’t know her well enough to wake her and trust that she could handle whatever came next.
The guards outside would have to be enough. He took himself out to the bike and started it again.