#ruby x you

You were theirs. They had decided that long before you realised you had no choice in the matter.

They met you at your worst—bloody, shaking, stupid with adrenaline. Your first real hunt had gone sideways, and whatever experience you thought you had meant nothing when the claws hit skin. You should've died. You were ready to. But Sam was there, and Ruby moved like smoke, and the thing was gone before you even saw it clearly.

"Poor baby," Ruby had murmured, crouching beside you while Sam checked your wounds. "Too pretty to go out like that."

You'd flinched when she touched you, and she smiled like that was her favourite part.

You never asked why they took you with them. Sam had said something about keeping an eye on you, but his mouth twitched like it wasn't the whole truth. Ruby just grinned and said you were better off not knowing. You nodded. You didn't ask again.

At first, they let you come on hunts. Small ones. Salt-and-burns, poltergeists. Sam showed you how to hold a blade properly. Ruby taught you how to lie. You were good at both.

But over time, they started leaving you behind.

"It's too dangerous," Sam said.

"She's not ready," Ruby added, her hand stroking your back through the thin cotton of your shirt.

You didn't argue. You told yourself it was kindness. That they were protecting you. That it wasn't about keeping you soft.

But then came the looks. The touches. The nights where Sam would come back covered in blood, eyes sharp with something feral, and Ruby would kiss his knuckles while you watched from across the room, trying not to shake.

They never made you watch. But they never really let you look away, either.

They talked about him sometimes.

Dean.

You only ever caught the name in whispers. "He wouldn't understand."  or,"Dean would've stopped this." or, "Dean's gone." Always followed by a pause. Always followed by Ruby looking at Sam like she was daring him to fall apart.

You didn't know who he was. You didn't ask.

Every time you got too close to the door, every time you hovered outside just long enough to hear more, one of them would call out like they felt you there.

Sam's soft: "Baby?"

Or Ruby's syrupy: "Sweet thing, come here."

You always obeyed.

Sometimes, when they thought you were asleep, Sam would sit at the edge of your bed and run his hand down your hair. Just once. Just enough to make your breath catch. Sometimes, Ruby would slip under the covers beside you and whisper nonsense until you drifted off—half-lullaby, half-possession.

You weren't sure when it stopped being strange. You only knew that when they were gone too long, your chest felt empty. And when they came back, you'd breathe again. You weren't stupid. You just didn't know how to leave.

The rain started two hours ago.

It tapped against the window in slow, steady beats, like a clock winding down—like something counting out the seconds until they came back. You sat curled on the end of the bed in your pyjamas, legs pulled up, sleeves hanging past your wrists. The television glowed faintly in the dark, but you weren't watching. You hadn't really watched anything in days.

You just waited. You always waited.

The door creaked open a little after midnight.

Sam came in first, wet to the shoulders, eyes shadowed and far away. Blood soaked one sleeve of his shirt. You didn't ask whose. Ruby followed behind him, skin shining with water, hair stuck to her cheeks like tendrils.

She smiled when she saw you. Not kind. Not cruel. Just... like she already knew.

"Still awake, baby?" Her voice was smoke and candy.

You nodded. Sam didn't say anything. He locked the door behind them, set his knife down on the table like he was placing something sacred. You watched his hands—big, veined, careful. Ruby peeled off her jacket and let it drop to the floor.

"Poor thing," she murmured, walking past him. "All alone in the dark. Bet you were scared."

You opened your mouth to protest, but she was already kneeling in front of you, wet fingers brushing your knee where your pyjama shorts had ridden up. Her touch was cold. You shivered.

"Didn't like being away from us, huh?"

Sam sat down in the chair across from the bed, his legs spread wide, elbows on his knees. His eyes never left you.

"She hates it," he said softly. "I think she's scared we won't come back."

You looked down, cheeks burning.

"I'm not—"

"It's okay," Ruby cooed. "You should be scared. There's bad things out there, sweet girl. Things that want to hurt you. But we'd never let that happen." She leaned closer, nose brushing your jaw. "You know that, right?"

You nodded. Her hand slid higher on your thigh.

"You're a good girl."

There had been... moments.

Once, in another town, Ruby had let you sleep against her in the back of the car, and you'd woken to find her fingers in your hair and Sam's eyes on your legs in the rearview.

Once, when you'd had a nightmare, Sam had pulled you into his lap, shirtless and half-asleep, and you'd felt him hard under you. He didn't move. He didn't stop either.

Once, Ruby had kissed your neck while laughing at something Sam said, and you'd gone stiff all over, heart beating like you were running from something. But she only giggled and said, "So easy to fluster. It's adorable."

You weren't sure when your body had stopped listening to you. Or when the idea of leaving had started to sound like dying.

Ruby climbed up behind you on the bed now, curled against your back, legs bracketing yours.

"You've been so patient with us," she whispered against your neck. "Hasn't she, Sam?"

He hummed low in his throat, eyes raking down your frame.

"She's always good," he murmured. "Even when she doesn't understand."

Your breath caught. Ruby kissed just behind your ear.

"Do you want to understand, baby?"

You nodded before you knew what you were agreeing to.

Ruby smiled against your skin. Sam stood slowly, crossing to the bed, and the air changed—thickened. You watched him the whole way, your lips parting when he reached out and brushed a strand of hair from your cheek.

"We'd never lie to you," he said, low and warm. "But there are things you're not ready for. Things that would scare you."

"We keep you soft because we love you," Ruby added, her hand sliding up your arm. "Don't you like being soft for us?"

You swallowed hard. "I... I think so."

Sam's mouth curled at the corner.

"That's our girl."

He leaned down and pressed his lips to your forehead—so tender it made your eyes sting. His hand cupped your jaw, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth.

"You don't have to think so," he whispered. "You just have to be."

They didn't kiss you that night. They didn't touch you like that. But Ruby held you in bed, and Sam sat in the chair until morning, watching. His hands didn't stop shaking. You didn't ask why.

You dreamt of red eyes and whispered names and Sam's voice saying, "She's ours. No one touches her but us."

You woke up aching and didn't know why.

They thought you were asleep. You were supposed to be. The lights were off, your hoodie was still warm from Ruby's perfume, and you'd curled up like always—safe and small beneath too many blankets in too big a bed.

But something about the way they said "we need to talk" had twisted in your chest.

Ruby's hand had been gentle on your back as she whispered to Sam that they'd take the room next door. Just for a bit. Just to "talk business." You'd nodded sleepily, like a good girl. Like someone who didn't immediately sit up the second the door clicked shut.

Now?

Now you were barefoot on the cheap motel carpet, heart fluttering, palm pressed to the adjoining door like it might burn you.

It was cracked open. Just an inch. Just enough.

Their voices leaked through, low and urgent.

"She's not ready," Sam was saying. His voice was strained—tired, fraying at the edges. "She's barely holding on as it is. If we push too hard—"

"She's perfect, Sam." Ruby's voice was velvet and smoke. "She's soft, scared, completely dependent. She'd do anything you asked."

Silence.

Then Ruby again, slower this time. Sharper.

"You think you're protecting her by waiting. But you're just dragging it out. You're making her confused. She doesn't know what you want. And she's starting to wonder."

Something slammed—maybe his hand against the table, maybe his fist against the wall. You pressed your hand tighter to the doorframe, mouth dry.

"She's pure." Sam again. Quieter. Like it hurt to say. "She trusts us. I don't want to ruin that."

"You already have." Ruby's tone turned sweet. "And she loves you for it."

You swallowed hard. And then—just as your breath caught and you started to step back—

"She's here."

Your blood turned to ice.

"She's listening."

Ruby opened the door before you could run.

She stood framed in soft yellow light, one shoulder bare, hair tumbling over her collarbone. Her lips curved when she saw you—like a cat catching something small and trembling.

"Hi, baby."

Your voice caught. "I—I didn't mean to—"

"Of course you didn't," she purred. "Come here."

You hesitated.

Her fingers extended slowly. Her voice softened into something intimate and honey-warm.

"You don't have to listen at the door, sweet thing. If you want to know what we're talking about, you just have to ask."

You stepped forward before you meant to. Her hand curled around yours and tugged you gently into the room.

Sam was standing beside the table, hands braced on the wood like he'd been holding himself up. His eyes met yours—and he looked wrecked. Pupils blown wide. Jaw clenched. Like you'd caught him mid-sin.

"She shouldn't—" he started, but Ruby cut him off.

"She should."

She brought you closer, her body warm behind yours as she pressed you into Sam's line of sight.

"You want to protect her?" She whispered, lips ghosting your ear. "Then stop pretending she doesn't already belong to us."

Sam exhaled hard. His gaze dropped—your bare legs, the hem of your sleep shirt, the way your breathing had turned shallow.

"We're not trying to hurt you," he said hoarsely. "You know that, right?"

You nodded. You meant it. Your voice trembled anyway.

"I trust you."

Ruby made a pleased sound behind you. Her hands skimmed your waist, resting low on your hips.

"Good girl," she murmured.

You felt her smile against your neck.

"That's all we've ever wanted."

They didn't kiss you. Not yet. But Ruby turned you around in her arms, pressed your forehead to hers and said:

"You're already halfway gone, baby. Just let go."

Sam stood frozen, fists clenched at his sides. You didn't see the moment he stepped forward—but you felt it. The heat. The pull. The weight of him.

"We'll take care of you," he whispered. "You don't have to think anymore. You just have to be ours."

You closed your eyes and nodded. You didn't understand what was wrong with Sam—but something was.

His chest was rising too fast. His jaw clenched and unclenched like it was wired too tight, and his eyes... his eyes looked wrong. Black-ringed, glossy, so blown out you could barely see the colour. He looked at you like he was starving.

Like he'd been starving for a while.

Ruby was calm. Radiant. She moved with syrup-slow precision, curling one hand around your wrist and bringing it to her lips as she smiled at Sam.

"She's so good for us," she murmured. Her breath was warm against your skin. "Aren't you, baby?"

You nodded before you even knew what you were agreeing to.

Sam made a strangled sound in the back of his throat. His fists tightened where they hung at his sides.

"Ruby..." he said low, like a warning.

But she just giggled—light, pretty, dangerous.

"She wants this," she said simply. "You think I haven't seen the way she watches you? The way she trembles when you say her name?"

She turned toward you, brushing a finger along your jaw.

"Don't you want to be touched, sweet thing?"

You couldn't speak. You could only nod again, your lips parted, breath shaky. You felt like your whole body was made of heat and nothing.

Ruby kissed you before you could think.

It wasn't soft—not really. It was slow, but insistent, her mouth warm and firm against yours. Her hands gripped your waist like she owned you. Like she had every right. Her tongue slipped past your lips and you gasped into it, your knees going weak, clinging to her shirt like it might save you.

When she pulled back, you were dizzy.

"See?" She said sweetly. "So easy."

She led you backward, fingers laced in yours, and gently sat you down in the worn motel chair by the window. The fabric was cold under your bare thighs.

Sam hadn't moved. He stood like a statue at the foot of the bed, chest heaving, eyes locked on yours like he couldn't look away.

"Sit," Ruby told him, her tone turning just slightly firmer.

And he did.

She guided him down until he sat at the edge of the bed—his legs spread, boots still planted on the carpet. He looked massive, ruined, caught in the middle of something he couldn't name. His hands gripped the edge of the bed like he was afraid to touch anything.

Ruby turned back to you, lips wet, cheeks flushed.

"Watch closely, baby."

She climbed into Sam's lap in one slow, fluid motion, straddling him. His hands hovered at her sides like he was afraid to hold her. But Ruby leaned in, close to his ear, speaking words too soft for you to hear.

Then she turned her head to look at you—smiling. Like this was all a show, and you were the only audience that mattered.

"He's so worked up, poor thing," she purred. "Do you want a turn?"

Your breath caught.

"You wanna be a good girl and help us feel better?"

You nodded, your thighs clenching together on instinct.

Ruby kissed Sam then—messy and deep, her fingers in his hair. He groaned into it, hands finally finding her hips. She rocked against him once and his whole body jerked.

"Fuck," he muttered, voice shredded. "Ruby—"

She pulled back and looked at you again.

"Come here, sweet thing."

You stood on shaky legs.

"Take my place," she whispered, climbing off him slowly, deliberately, dragging her fingers down his chest. "Be good."

You moved without thinking.

Sam's eyes were wild when you stepped between his knees—dark and blown, lips parted. His hands hovered, not quite touching.

Ruby slid behind you, her arms around your waist as she guided you down—down into his lap, your knees bracketing his thighs, your breath coming short and fast.

"That's it," she whispered, lips against your ear. "Feel how hard he is for you? How much he wants you?"

You whimpered, your thighs tightening as she rocked your hips forward once—slow, grinding you down against him.

Sam's head dropped back with a groan.

"Ruby—fuck, she doesn't—"

"She wants to," Ruby said. "Don't you, baby?"

You nodded helplessly.

"Say it," Ruby coaxed. "Tell him you want to make him feel good."

Your voice was barely a breath.

"I want to make you feel good..."

Sam's hands finally touched you. Gripped your hips hard enough to bruise. His voice cracked when he said your name.

Ruby purred.

"Good girl."

You didn't mean to moan—but it slipped out anyway.

Just a soft, broken sound in the back of your throat as Ruby rocked your hips forward again, grinding you down into the thick, aching heat of Sam's cock through his jeans.

His head dropped forward, mouth brushing your collarbone. He made a noise like he was choking on the feel of you.

"Fuck, she's—Ruby, I can't—"

"You can," she whispered, wrapping her arms around you from behind. "You will. Look at her, Sammy. Look how sweet she is. So wet for you already and you haven't even touched her yet."

Your sleep shirt had ridden up to your waist, bunched just under your ribs. Sam's hands were under it now—hot and wide and shaking, gripping your hips like he was holding back an earthquake. You could feel every twitch of him beneath you, trapped behind the denim, burning through it.

You couldn't stop shaking.

"You wanna help him, don't you?" Ruby's voice was syrup in your ear. "He's been so good. He's been waiting for you. Doesn't he deserve to feel good?"

You nodded, eyes fluttering.

"Yes..."

"Say it, baby. Say I want to make Sam feel good."

Your breath hitched.

"I... I want to make Sam feel good."

Sam groaned like it hurt. His head tipped back, eyes fluttering shut, lips parted and flushed.

"Jesus Christ..."

Ruby's hands slid down your belly, fingertips just brushing the waistband of your panties. You gasped.

"That's our good girl," she whispered. "So responsive. So needy. Tell me, baby—have you ever been touched like this before?"

You whimpered. "No..."

"Mm." She kissed just behind your ear. "Even better."

Her fingers slid lower.

Sam's hands were everywhere now—your thighs, your waist, your lower back. His grip was rough, frantic, like he didn't know where to start. Like he wanted all of you at once.

"Ruby, I need—"

"I know," she said sweetly, pulling your panties to the side and slipping two fingers through the soaked heat between your thighs. "Look at her, Sam. She's dripping."

Your whole body jolted. You tried to twist away from the sensation, but Ruby only giggled and held you still.

"Shh, baby. Let us take care of you. You're doing so well."

She pulled her hand away slowly, teasing, and brought her fingers to Sam's mouth.

"Open."

He obeyed without thinking—lips parting as Ruby slid her fingers past them. He moaned low, guttural, eyes dark with something feral as he tasted you for the first time.

You made a wounded little sound, thighs trembling, head falling forward.

"Fuck—" he breathed. "She's... Ruby, she's perfect."

"I told you," she said, brushing your hair back, tucking it behind your ear like you were porcelain. "Didn't I say she'd be perfect?"

Then she leaned in again, voice like sin wrapped in silk.

"You ready for more, sweet thing?"

You couldn't speak. You just nodded. And it seemed that was all the encouragement Sam needed to shift the two of you further back onto the bed, keeping you pressed to him the entire time.

Ruby moved to sit behind you on the bed, one leg tucked under her, the other bracketing your thigh. Her hands slid up your sides, slow and soothing.

"Ride him just like that, baby," she whispered. "You're making him feel so good."

You whimpered, your hands resting on Sam's shoulders, your hips rocking in slow, helpless circles as heat curled tighter in your belly.

"You wanna keep going?" She asked, her voice dipped in honey. "Wanna make him feel even better?"

You nodded, dizzy and breathless.

"Then be a good girl and let me help you."

Her fingers slipped between your thighs again—this time not teasing. She manoeuvred you up off Sam's lap for a second, hooked her thumbs in your panties and dragged them down slowly, peeling them off and dropping them to the floor like they meant nothing.

Sam groaned beneath you, head tipping forward to rest against your chest.

"Jesus fucking Christ..."

Ruby smiled against your shoulder and whispered like a secret:

"Now ride him for real, sweet thing."

You were shaking.

Not from fear. Not exactly. But from something hot and thick curling in your belly, something too big to name. Your panties were gone, discarded on the floor like they'd never mattered. Sam was still hard beneath you, denim rough against your bare heat, and your hips were moving because Ruby told you to.

You were soaked.

You knew it. You felt it. The fabric of his jeans was sticky between your thighs and Sam was groaning, his head bowed low, sweat dampening the ends of his hair as he clutched at your waist like he might lose control.

It was too much.

"I... I don't know what to do," you whispered, voice trembling. "What do I... do?"

Ruby leaned in behind you again, her hands smoothing over your thighs, her lips brushing your ear.

"Aw, baby," she crooned. "You've really never done this before, have you?"

You swallowed hard, heart pounding.

"No..."

"Anything?" She asked softly, deceptively gentle. "Have you ever touched yourself? Let anyone else touch you?"

You flushed so hard your skin burned.

"N-no. I—I mean, not... not really..."

Ruby made a pleased little sound, like you'd just handed her the key to a locked room she'd been dying to enter.

"God, you really are perfect."

Her hands squeezed your thighs gently, her mouth warm at your jaw.

"Do you want to learn, sweet thing? Want to let us show you what feels good?"

You nodded, dazed.

"Say it."

"I... I want you to show me."

"Good girl."

Ruby kissed your shoulder, then gently—almost reverently—lifted you off of Sam's lap. He let out a breathless, broken sound, like even losing your weight made him ache. Ruby turned to him, tone shifting just enough to make it clear who was in charge here.

"Back," she said. "Now."

Sam didn't argue.

He moved further onto the bed in a slow, stiff blur, eyes glued to you like he couldn't believe this was real. His chest was rising fast, pupils blown to hell, lips parted like he might start begging. He looked like he was in pain.

You stood there, half-naked and trembling, your oversized sleep shirt hitched up high, bare legs shaking.

"Lie down, baby," Ruby said, turning her attention back to you. Her hands cupped your cheeks, her eyes glowing with soft, wicked promise. "Let us take care of you."

You obeyed.

She helped you down onto the bed, gently easing you onto your back, kissing your cheek, your jaw, your lips. You clung to her without meaning to, your fingers curling in her shirt, your legs twitching nervously.

"You're doing so good," she whispered. "You're being so brave. You'll love it, I promise. It's gonna feel so good..."

Her lips trailed lower—down your throat, between your collarbones, soft and slow. Her hands pushed your shirt up higher and higher, until your stomach was bare, your chest rising and falling like you'd run a mile.

She kissed every inch of exposed skin.

"Such soft skin... so untouched..."

Her hands slid down your thighs again—comforting, coaxing. Sam let out another choked sound, and when you looked over at him, his eyes were fixed between your legs, his hand gripping the bed like he might break it.

Ruby kissed the inside of your knee. Then your thigh. Then lower.

"Let me show you what it's supposed to feel like, sweet thing," she murmured, her breath ghosting over your heat. "You'll never want anything else after this."

You gasped when her mouth finally touched you—slow, teasing, masterful. You jolted, your hips bucking up in shock, but her hands held you down, firm but still gentle, like she'd done this before. Like she knew exactly how to unravel a girl like you.

You reached for something—anything—and Sam was there in an instant.

He crawled up beside you, his hand finding yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as you moaned helplessly beneath Ruby's mouth.

"You're okay," he whispered. "You're doing so good. God, you are so good..."

You turned your face into his neck, panting, whining, your thighs trembling as Ruby sucked softly on your clit, her tongue drawing slow, filthy circles that made your whole body clench.

"Let go, baby," she whispered between licks. "Be our good girl and come for us."

Your first orgasm broke over you like something sacred.

One second you were gasping into Sam's neck, Ruby's mouth still moving between your thighs, and the next—your back arched, a sob tore from your throat, and your whole body shuddered like you'd been struck by lightning.

It wasn't sharp—it was overwhelming. Full-body. Wringing you out like wet cloth. Sam held your hand tighter, whispering praise that barely landed, and Ruby moaned against your cunt like she felt it, like your release was something for her.

"God, baby," she breathed, and then—she slipped a finger inside you, slow and deliberate.

You jolted, a strangled cry slipping out as aftershocks tore through you. Sam's grip on your hand went white-knuckled.

Ruby moaned.

"She's so warm, Sam," she said, voice thick, dreamy. "So wet. You have no idea."

You whined, writhing, but Ruby only kissed your thigh like a reward and pulled her finger out—slick, shining.

"You're such a good girl for us," she whispered. "That was so beautiful."

She crawled back up your body, her skin hot against yours, and kissed your lips again. Deep, slow, tasting like you.

"Sam," she purred between kisses, her voice dipped in smoke. "You have to try this."

Sam didn't speak.

He just grabbed her—hard. One hand in her hair, the other on her hip, yanking her off you with a roughness that made your breath catch. He crushed his mouth to hers in a brutal kiss—desperate, consuming—and then shoved her aside like she was nothing more than a gatekeeper to his altar.

His altar being you.

He dropped between your legs without a word, spreading you open with shaking hands, and dove in like a man starved.

You screamed.

It was too much. Still trembling from your first orgasm, your body overloaded, you cried out as his tongue dragged through your folds, moaning against you like he was fucking possessed. And maybe he was. His grip on your thighs was bruising, his mouth unrelenting.

"Oh my god—S-Sam—!"

You tried to close your legs on instinct, but he just growled—growled—and shoved them wider, burying his face deeper.

"That's it," Ruby whispered, curling up beside you again. Her fingers found your hair, stroking it gently, brushing it behind your ears with all the tenderness of a mother tucking in her child. "Let him ruin you, baby. You're being so perfect."

You whimpered, face twisting into something close to pain.

"It's too much..."

"Shhh." Her hand cupped your cheek. "That's what makes it good."

Sam groaned between your thighs, low and wrecked. His tongue moved faster, deeper, insistent, like he couldn't get enough. Like he wanted to crawl inside you and stay.

"You feel that, sweet thing?" Ruby murmured, her mouth close to yours. "That's what happens when you give yourself over."

She kissed you again—languid, possessive, one hand still petting you like you were something to soothe and subdue.

"Open your mouth for me," she whispered. "You're drooling. It's cute."

You blinked, dazed, lips parting as her thumb pressed to your jaw.

"Let me feel it."

You obeyed.

She kissed you again, deeper this time, tongue slick against yours, swallowing your moans and the helpless sounds you made as Sam devoured you like he'd die if he stopped.

"That's it," she said softly. "Drool in my mouth, baby. You're doing so good."

She turned her head slightly, speaking to Sam like you weren't even there.

"She's so sensitive. Barely came once and look at her—already shaking for you."

Sam just groaned in response, too lost to speak. His hands gripped your thighs tighter, his tongue relentless, and you broke again with a sharp cry into Ruby's mouth.

You couldn't stop crying. Your legs wouldn't stop trembling, your voice had gone hoarse from moaning, and Sam was still between your thighs, tongue moving like he didn't hear you—like he didn't care.

"S-Sam—p-please—" Your fingers twisted in the sheets, your hips jerking, but his arms locked you down. "I—I c-can't—!"

Ruby was still beside you, still stroking your hair like nothing was wrong.

"Sam," she said softly. "Baby, she's crying."

He didn't stop.

He growled against you—low and guttural—and sucked harder, dragging his tongue with filthy, practiced strokes that had your spine arching, tears streaking your cheeks.

"Do you need him to stop, sweet thing?" Ruby whispered, brushing her thumb over your wet lashes.

You sobbed. Nodded.

"Y-yes—please—I c-can't take anymore—"

"Aww," she cooed, her voice like poisoned honey. "My poor baby. You're so sensitive. So perfect for him."

You gasped when Sam gripped your thighs tighter—his fingertips digging in, holding you wide open as his mouth moved faster, chasing another orgasm like he was possessed.

Ruby leaned in closer, her voice dipped in false sympathy.

"If he stops now..." she said sweetly, "...he's going to be so unsatisfied. That wouldn't be fair to him, would it?"

You blinked, dazed and wrecked, chest heaving.

"W-what...?"

"He's been waiting for you for so long, baby," she continued, stroking your cheek. "He's so hard it hurts. If you really want him to stop, you're gonna have to give him something."

You whimpered, nodding blindly.

"Anything, please—j-just make him stop—"

Ruby smiled like the devil in silk.

"Then you'll let him fuck you, sweet thing?" She kissed your temple. "You'll let him put his cock in that sweet little pussy and use you the way he needs to?"

Your lips trembled. You were crying so hard now it didn't feel real. But you nodded again. You couldn't think past the overstimulation—just needed him out from between your legs, needed something to change.

"Yes—yes, please—please—just make him stop—"

Ruby sat up, her voice turning firm.

"Sam. Stop."

He didn't move.

"Sam."

He growled—growled, full-bodied, vibrating the bed. His eyes were black, mouth wet, breath ragged.

"Don't—don't fucking tell me to stop—"

Ruby laughed.

"You'll thank me in thirty seconds, big boy."

She shoved him back by the shoulder, and this time—barely—he let her. He knelt between your legs, panting, pupils swallowing the green of his eyes.

Ruby leaned over you again, her hands spreading your legs wider.

"You're gonna take him now," she whispered. "You're gonna let him fuck you like he's been dreaming about for weeks. And you're gonna thank him for it."

You sobbed. Nodded.

Sam's hands fumbled with his jeans, dragging them down far enough to free his cock—thick, flushed, angry red with need. He didn't say a word. He just looked at you, hair in his face, jaw clenched, chest heaving.

"She said yes, Sammy," Ruby whispered. "She wants it. She wants you."

Sam moved fast.

He grabbed your hips, yanked you down the bed, and pressed the blunt head of his cock to your slick entrance. You gasped, eyes wide, every nerve ending screaming.

"You ready, sweet thing?" Ruby murmured, mouth at your ear. "You ready to be his?"

You whispered it, broken.

"Yes..."

Then Sam sank into you in one brutal thrust, and the sound you made wasn't human.

Your back arched, your breath vanished, and your body clenched around him like it didn't know how to take it. He was thick, hot, impossibly deep—and still moving, dragging out slowly, then slamming back in so hard the headboard rattled against the wall.

"Fuck—fuck— you feel unreal," he groaned, eyes squeezed shut, his voice wrecked. "So fucking tight—shit, baby, you were made for me—"

You cried out, hands grasping at the sheets, your body already fried and raw from overstimulation. Every thrust felt like lightning—too much, too deep, too good.

"You okay, baby?" Ruby murmured beside you, her voice sweet and syrupy. "You still with us?"

You nodded through the sob that escaped you, and she smiled like you'd just done something precious.

"That's my girl."

Sam fucked into you harder—hard enough to make the bed creak, his grip bruising on your hips. He looked elated, lost in it, mouth open as he moaned through gritted teeth.

"So fucking pretty when you cry," he panted. "Look at you—look what you're giving me—fuck—"

Ruby slid closer, still fully clothed, lips ghosting your temple.

"She's drooling again," she said with a laugh, her tone sing-song and amused. "You love this too much, sweet thing. Can't even keep your mouth closed."

You whimpered, your thighs shaking, and she kissed your cheek sweetly.

"That's okay," she whispered. "We love how messy you are."

Her hand slipped beneath her waistband, fingers curling—and then she took your trembling wrist and guided it down with her.

"Here," she murmured. "You wanna be good for me? Touch me."

Your fingers slipped beneath the lace, and you gasped when you felt how wet she was—soaked, hot, throbbing against your hand. She moaned low in your ear.

"That's it," she breathed. "Let me show you..."

Her hand wrapped around yours, using you, grinding down onto your fingers as Sam fucked you open in deep, brutal strokes that made your stomach tighten and your vision blur.

"Move in little circles," Ruby whispered, guiding your fingers. "Mmm—just like that, baby. You're such a fast learner."

Sam was losing it.

"She's touching you?" He groaned, looking down at you both, sweat dripping from his hairline. "Fuck, Ruby, fuck— she's so perfect—"

"She's everything," Ruby said with a soft moan, pressing your fingers harder. "She's ours now. Look at her. Look at what she's letting us do."

You choked on a sob, your hand trapped between Ruby's thighs, your body jerking with every thrust of Sam's cock. He was panting now, animalistic, his hands sliding up under your shirt to grope at your breasts, dragging his thumbs over your nipples.

"You hear that, baby?" Ruby crooned. "Hear how wet you are? How wet I am? It's all for you."

"You feel so good—so fucking good—" Sam growled, his thrusts speeding up, sloppy and deep. "I'm never gonna stop—never—never letting you go—"

Ruby grabbed your jaw, turned your face toward her, and kissed you like she owned you—tongue pushing into your mouth, swallowing your sobs and your moans, your drool and desperation.

"Open for me, sweet thing," she whispered against your lips. "Let me taste how wrecked you are."

You obeyed. You always obeyed. And as she kissed you, she didn't hold back, drool leaking into your mouth, sliding down your throat like a living thing. Warm. Sweet.

And Sam? Sam was losing it.

Sweat dripped from his chest, his arms were trembling from how hard he held himself above you, and his thrusts—fuck—they were frantic now, so deep and fast it felt like your body couldn't keep up. You couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. He was babbling between moans, his voice cracked open, wrecked.

"Can't believe this is real—fuck, you feel like heaven—so tight, so fucking warm—squeezing me, baby, you're fucking—you were made for this—"

Your legs were jelly around his hips. Your voice was gone, reduced to broken gasps and whines as his cock hit that deep spot again and again, the bed groaning under every thrust. Your hand was still between Ruby's thighs, her slick soaking your fingers, and she was rolling her hips against them slowly, deliberately.

"That's it, sweet thing," Ruby purred, her voice so gentle it made your eyes sting. "Let me use that precious little hand. You're such a good girl for us, letting us fuck you just right."

She leaned over you again, brushing your sweaty hair behind your ears, thumbing your jaw open.

"You want something in that mouth, baby?" She whispered sweetly. "You want me to spit in it again?"

You nodded—desperate, dazed, ruined.

She smiled.

"Open up."

She let it hang between her lips for just a second before letting it fall—hot, thick, landing on your tongue like sin. You moaned, tongue twitching, and she cooed.

"Swallow it like a good girl."

You did.

Sam groaned like he might fucking die.

"She's letting you spit in her mouth?" He gasped. "Jesus— fuck, I'm not gonna last—she's so—"

"She wants it, baby," Ruby crooned. "Don't you, sweet thing? You love how good you make him feel?"

You nodded, sobbing.

"Mhmm—yes—yes please—feels so good—!"

Ruby's hand slid between your legs again—while Sam was still fucking you—and her thumb found your clit with perfect, devastating pressure. You screamed, body jerking violently as she circled it with soft, expert cruelty.

"That's it," she whispered. "Let me help you break."

Sam was gone. Gone.

"Gonna fill you up, baby," he grunted, thrusts getting rougher, more erratic. "You're gonna take it, right? Let me come inside that pretty little cunt?"

"She wants it," Ruby said, matter-of-fact. "She's mine now. She'll take anything I give her. Won't you, baby?"

You cried out, stars bursting behind your eyes, your fingers slipping deeper into Ruby as her hand guided you.

"Fuck me with them," she murmured, voice like velvet-dipped knives. "Make me come while Sammy fucks you full."

You whimpered, your fingers pumping helplessly into her dripping heat as her thumb rubbed cruel circles into your clit, Sam's cock still slamming deep inside, faster, harder—

"You're mine—ours—fuck, I'm gonna—baby—take it—"

You shattered.

Your body convulsed, the scream caught in your throat, legs kicking uselessly as the orgasm ripped through you like nothing had ever existed before it. Sam groaned so loud it echoed off the walls—and then spilled inside you, hips jerking, cock twitching as he filled you up, panting, gasping, babbling your name and Ruby's in a filthy prayer.

Ruby came on your fingers a moment later, moaning low, hand never stopping on your clit as you sobbed through the comedown—wrecked, full, ruined.

"There you go," she whispered. "That's it, baby. That's my perfect little thing."

She kissed you once, slow and sweet.

"You're never leaving this bed again."

You didn't remember when you stopped crying. Somewhere between Sam's moans and Ruby's mouth, your tears had dried—leaving only heat, and ache, and the tremble in your thighs as you lay between them.

You were sore. Sticky. Wrecked in a way that felt permanent.

But you didn't want to move.

You could still feel Sam's spend leaking out of you, warm and slow. Ruby's breath was soft against your cheek, her fingers still tangled with yours like they had every right to be. Sam's hand rested over your belly—heavy, protective, possessive.

You felt claimed. Worshipped. Ruined.

You stared up at the ceiling, breath ragged, thoughts flickering like static, and it settled in your chest like truth:

You weren't yours anymore.

You didn't know when it had happened—when your body stopped being yours, when your heart shifted, when your innocence dissolved between their hands.

You just knew that it had.

And maybe that should have scared you. Maybe, once, it would have.

But lying there, between them—used, owned, kept—all you felt was peace. Because here, in this bed, you belonged to them. And you weren't sure you ever wanted to leave.

The hearing ends at four thirty-seven. (Not that you're counting or anything…) "Counselors" Judge Martinez says, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I have made my ruling" You don't look at Ruby– you don't. Opting to stare at your notes instead, jaw clenched as the judge grants her motion. Again. Across the aisle, Ruby is infuriatingly calm. No celebration, no smug grin– just that composed expression she always wears when she wins. Which somehow? Makes it all that much worse. "Anything further?" The judge asks.

"No, your Honor" The stupidly smug defense attorney says smoothly. You gather your files before court is even adjourned, ignoring her little proud hum.

By the time you make it back to your office, you're still irritated– not because you lost. You can handle losing. (Mostly…) I mean, it’s part of the job, being a prosecutor wasn’t exactly a highly successful profession.

It's Ruby. It's always Ruby. The way she notices every weakness in an argument before you've even finished making it, the way she seems to know exactly which buttons to push, the way she somehow occupies an embarrassing amount of your thoughts. You dump your briefcase beside your desk and glance automatically toward the window and there she is– across the street, third floor, corner office. Looking right back at you.

Narrow your eyes, you watch as Ruby lifts a sheet of paper, her large black letters pressed right against the window: STOP GLARING AT ME

Your jaw drops. Then, without any hesitation– you raise your middle finger. Across the street, Ruby throws her head back laughing. Laughing. You’re glaring at her, clearly frustrated and she’s actually laughing. Something inside you snaps.

Ten minutes later, you're marching through the lobby of her building. The receptionist barely glances up– apparently your visits have become expected. Wonderful, something less for you to deal with. You take the elevator to the third floor, storm down the hallway and walk directly into Ruby's office without knocking. She doesn't even look surprised– she's sitting behind her desk, suit jacket discarded over the back of her chair, sleeves rolled neatly to her elbows. Unfair.

"Y’know" She says, tapping a pen against her chin and turning around in her chair to face you. "That took longer than I expected, definitely lost bets with a lot of people"

"You're impossible"

"Good evening to you too" Ruby hums simply, clearly unbothered by your evergrowing annoyance.

You point accusingly toward the window. "What is wrong with you?"

The other woman glances over her shoulder, pointing at the window with her pen. "The note?"

"Yes, Ruby the note"

A pause, she shrugs. "I thought it was funny"

"Well you thought wrong"

"Hm" You hate the way she says that, you hate the way she tilts her head, you hate the way she always seems three steps ahead. Ruby studies you for a moment, that quiet intensity you always see in her face when in court. Then says: "You're really angry about a piece of paper?"

"I'm not angry about the paper" You huff defensively, still annoyed but feeling a bit thrown off guard now that she so boldly called you out.

"No?"

"No"

A slow smile appears on her face. "Oh"

Immediate regret about opening that office door. "Oh?" You repeat.

Ruby rises from her chair– not quite crowding you, but still leaving little to no space between the two of you. "Then what are you angry about?"

Nothing. Everything. Months of this. Months of courtroom arguments, sarcastic notes, stolen glances through office windows, months of pretending there isn't something simmering beneath every charged interaction. You cross your arms. "Do you do this with every opposing counselor?" The question leaves your mouth before you can stop it.

"Do what?"

"This" You gesture vaguely between the two of you. "The notes, the comments, the emotional warfare… Whatever the Hell this is"

“Well you’re a bit dramatic today” Ruby hums, that sharp tongued, teasing sarcasm shining through as bright as ever. But still, she takes a brief pause and gives you a slightly more serious answer. "You think I stare into every prosecutor's office at midnight?"

Heat rushes into your face, so you quickly try to brush it off with a scoff. "You're impossible"

"There it is again"

"Because you are being an ass"

She tilts her head in amused interest, still eyeing you up and down like a predator about to pounce. "And yet you came over here" You open your mouth, ready with another argument, another insult, another excuse– nothing comes out. Because she's right, infuriating– but right nonetheless. Ruby's smile softens around the edges. Not much, just enough to be noticeable. "See, that's what I thought"

"Oh, shut up"

"No"

You roll your eyes, half utterly desperate and half somewhat amused. "I am genuinely starting to understand why half the courthouse hates you"

"Only half?"

You groan, dragging a hand down your face. "How do you do that?"

"Do what?" She hums with faux confusion.

"Turn every conversation into an argument" Ruby's laugh is quiet this time– less victorious, more fond. The realization hits you like a truck. Fond. God. That's somehow worse. You stare at her and she stares right back. For once? Neither of you says anything– no sarcastic comments, no objections, no clever comebacks… Just silence, the kind that's been building for months.

Ruby breaks it first, because of course she does. (Silence doesn’t agree with her) "You're staring again"

You shoot her a deadpan glare. "You’ve literally been staring into my office for the past three months"

"Four actually"

"That is not helping your case"

She’s quick to retort– that smart little shit. "I'm a defense attorney, I don't need a case"

The laugh escapes before you can stop it and Ruby's expression changes immediately. Like she's won something. "Oh, don't look so pleased with yourself" You quickly chime in.

"Too late"

You shake your head– unbelievable, absolutely unbelievable. And yet? You take a step closer. Ruby doesn't move, doesn't smirk, doesn't make a joke. For the first time since you've known her, she looks uncertain. Just for a second. It's enough. "You are the most irritating person I've ever met."

"I know" Her admission catches you off guard.

Ruby's gaze flickers briefly to your mouth before returning to your eyes. And suddenly every stolen glance through those stupid windows makes sense. Every note, every late night, every argument, every excuse to keep talking. "Oh"

Ruby huffs out a laugh. "Yeah, no shit"

"Oh" You repeat, the realization still slowly sinking in.

"That's about how I felt too"

Something warm blooms in your chest. You don't give yourself time to think about it– you lean in and Ruby meets you halfway. Mouths finally touching after months of going off at each other. Her lips are soft– somewhat that’s surprising. Sure, they were always pretty (like every other thing about her, infuriating much) but it’s probably the only thing about this woman that could be described as ‘soft’ in any way.

When you pull apart, she's smiling– not smug, not victorious. For once, she’s just smiling. It's almost unsettling. "There she is" She hums, smug as ever..

You narrow your eyes immediately. "Don't ruin this"

"I'm not ruining anything"

"You absolutely are"

Ruby reaches for the legal pad sitting on her desk. Before you can stop her, she scribbles something down and turns it around: STOP GLARING AT ME.

Stare at it– then at her, then back at the note. "Seriously?" This childish, infuriatingly adorable woman. Her grin widens, clearly enjoying getting a rise out of you.

You snatch the pen from her hand. Beneath it, you write: MAKE ME.

You’re leaned against the dresser only a few feet from them, beer bottle wet with perspiration in your hand, and it’s not the only thing. You’re desperately trying to level your breathing, trying to act like none of this is getting to you. You’re failing miserably. 

Meg separates her lips from Ruby’s, looks over her shoulder at you while Ruby presses open-mouthed kisses against her neck, runs her hands over porcelain pale skin. Both their dark locks tangled, like they’re one thing, come from one source.

“Sure you don’t wanna join?” Meg says in that ever vibrating, hissing voice of hers. “Your boyfriends don’t have to know.” You bite at your bottom lip, watch as her hands wander down to Ruby’s jeans-clad ass.

“They’re not my boyfriends,” you press out through clenched teeth, a drop from your bottle landing somewhere on your boot with a small splash. Ruby starts rocking against Meg, trying to find some friction. They’re beautiful together. So beautiful.

“Even better,” Meg hums, leaning back to allow Ruby better access. “No complications.” 

And yeah, the fact that the two women in front of you are demons and you’re a hunter is complicated enough, even without your messy, interwoven relationship to the two brothers coming into play. Not that you’re able to think about that right now. The implications of it. Not when Ruby drags her full lips from Meg’s neck, turns around to look at you. Big eyes dark and wet.

“We really want you to,” she says with her soft, sexy as sin lisp and you swallow. “It can stay between us.” And then she gives you a dirty smile that lets you know she will rub this in Sam and Dean’s face the second she gets the chance. 

You let out a slow breath. Take a long drink from your bottle. Then put it down and walk towards them, already pulling off your jacket.

___

It’s fascinating to watch them like this, who they are. How they act.

Ruby’s all submissive girliness. Talks a tough game but when you spread her out under you, she moans and rolls her hips and throws her head back and forth in a display of such outright sexual femininity it’s hard to believe it’s not all an act. Meg on the other hand likes taking charge, pushes both of you around in a way that has you clenching your thighs, nips, bites, gives orders. You fit in just right.

You’ve got one of Ruby’s soft thighs between your legs, your own pressing hers open, skin soaked with her sweet wetness as you fingerfuck her. Meg is perched next to you two, watching, encouraging, yeah, she loves that, oh look at that blush on her chest, isn’t that so fucking cute? She’s gonna act like she can hold on, but she can’t. You’re such a mess, Ruby. She always comes quickly, but this has to be a new record. Meg leans forward, kisses Ruby roughly while she shakes and moans.

Ruby meanwhile really is a mess. Her head is thrown back, her neck stretched to the point where it looks like it hurts. The soft, pretty act gone as she’s thrown into pleasure that makes her skin red and eyes misty and all of her unravel. She comes quickly. She comes loudly. It’s paradise.

“Turn her around,” Meg says with a broad grin. “Her ass looks so pretty if you slap it a little. Takes on every mark.” Ruby moans something that sounds like yes, please.

So of course you turn her around. 

Meg has you eat her out while you kneel in front of her with her fingers gripping your hair, talking non-stop, just like she always does. Ruby’s mostly out of it, but when she can sit up again, she gets in close behind you, kisses your back, your shoulders. Helps Meg hold back your hair while the other hand wanders between your legs. What she does there is a little half-hearted, and when she starts rubbing herself against you after a while of this, you can’t help but chuckle. 

Meg drags you up, strong despite her small frame. Kisses you, roughly, tongue shoved into your mouth, then pushes you back on the bed.

“Your turn,” she says with a grin and Ruby giggles.

You’re gripping the pillow under your head so hard you’re pretty sure you won’t have any feelings left in your fingers in a minute. But who cares about such things.

Ruby’s straddling you high on your waist, dragging her wet pussy along the skin there. It’s not enough to get her off, but the sight and smell and closeness of her, the way you’re caught under her, drives you nearly insane. She leans forward, kisses you, tongues at you with little licks. Grins her demon grin while she plays with your hair and runs the tip of her nose over your skin.

“Fuck you,” you mutter, and she pinches your nipples, making you moan. Her plush lips are there a second later to soothe the pain.

Meanwhile Meg is between your legs. Pushed Ruby aside when she saw she was just gonna keep teasing. Now two of her fingers are buried in you while her tongue draws perfect circles. 

You press your forehead against your arm, still thrown up over you, mouth ripped open as an earth-shattering orgasm rips through you. Meg, the absolute bitch, keeps fingerfucking you until you try to roll away, which is difficult with Ruby still on top of you. There’s a moment where you think they’ll overpower you, where you think you’re completely exposed, powerless to them. It fires up another deep wave of pleasure within you.

Ruby moves and you grab her around the waist, turn her over. She lands on her back, dark hair flying, looking up at you with wide eyes and an excited expression. Meg crawls up behind you, hands running down your side, licks your shoulder then bites it gently.

She keeps going as Ruby drags you down, kisses your lips, so wet, so perfect, and you feel Meg press her own wetness against your ass, starting to grind against you. Your eyes fall shut as you give yourself over to it.

“More?” one of them says, and you’re not sure which one.

“More,” is all you say.

The door unlocks, and you already hear their deep voices. You shift, rearrange the book in your hands. Force a neutral expression onto your face.

“...completely useless,” Dean is saying to Sam, who’s just behind him. They stop talking and turn to the room.

You’re on one of the chairs, leaned back, one leg slung over the other, frowning at the pages in front of you despite not having read a single word for several minutes. Ruby is on the bed, Sam’s this time, leaned back on her arms while she looks around with a bored expression. And Meg lounges on the couch, cleaning the nails of one hand with the ones of the other.

“How was it?” you ask, lowering the book. You’re not sure what he notices - maybe it’s the smell of sex permeating the room, the AC not strong enough to fully drag it out - but Sam’s brows twitch as his eyes wander between the three of you. Only Dean seems oblivious.

“Total bust,” he says, walking over to the fridge and taking out three beers - for him and Sam and you, of course. Not the others. “The information was useless.” 

“Told you it might be,” Meg sing-songs and you throw her a look. She returns it, eyes wandering to you slowly. It makes you think of the taste of the skin over her collarbone. How her ass cheeks felt in your hands.

“Yeah, thanks for that,” Dean says in his most sarcastic tone as he drops down on his bed after passing around the drinks. Your eyes shoot to Ruby, and she raises her eyebrows. You remember her screams of pleasure, the way she begged so prettily for you to fuck her harder. You shift your legs, rub them against each other. Nearly flinch from how sore you are. The boys sure took their time.

“Anyway,” Sam says and walks deeper into the room with a sigh, “looks like you two are good to go.” Both Meg and Ruby turn to him. It makes Sam shift around.

“Sure thing,” Meg says and you need to bite your lip.

They leave, and you look after them. Eyes trained on their asses, their hips. The long, dark hair. They don’t turn around.

Dean plops back down on the bed, while Sam slowly sits on the couch. You’re back to your chair, too worried they’re gonna be able to smell them on you.

“What a day,” Dean says, taking a sip from his beer. You look at him, and then your eyes widen when you see the wet patch on the bed - but no, it’s just a shadow. You put the spare bedding on his bed when you’d regained control of your senses.

“Yeah, you mumble, “what a day.”

She presses down against your spine as she ruts into you harder, fucking into you with her strap on like she's trying to knock you up. Suddenly she fists her hand into your hair, snatching your head back roughly, not at all gentling herself for you - knowing that you can take it… That you enjoy it even.

“You're good at this… Good at being a fuck doll. I bet you get wetter at the fact this is wrong and bad, don't you?”

To drive her point home she lets go of your head, still slowly thrusting as she reaches over to retrieve her trusty knife. She slowly cuts open her arm, pressing the cut to your mouth encouraging your lips to seal around it, grinning as you drink darkness straight from the tap - getting off on corrupting you as she breaks you open on pink plastic like a proper demonically powered whore.

“Good slut.”

She pulls her arm away and keeps fucking you, blood smeared on your lips and your slick dripping down your thighs, hand making sharp contact with your ass till you yelp… No doubt you'll be having trouble sitting down later, something you really don't want to have to explain to the guys. She goes till you cum from the mix of pleasure and pain, grabbing your face to spit into your mouth, sealing the deal on fucking owning you.

“You're perfect.”

-

So you let the boys sleep. Left a quick note taped to the motel door—Gone for food.

You’d considered taking the Impala, but Dean would probably jolt awake like some kind of creepy cryptkeeper if he heard the engine. You didn't want his indignant bitching, you wanted some damn food. So you walked.

The diner was the kind of place that had probably looked exactly the same since the ‘80s—faded checkered floors, a counter lined with chrome stools, and a coffee pot that had likely seen things no coffee pot should. The morning light slanted through the window beside you. Winter was starting to lose its grip, the cold giving way to something softer, lighter. Even your aching muscles felt a little looser, the quiet hum of the diner settling into your bones. For the first time in what felt like days, you exhaled.

The bell above the door jingled. A pleasant sound, soft and unassuming.

Instinctively, your gaze flicked toward the entrance, half-expecting Sam or Dean to come shuffling in, still looking half-dead and demanding coffee.

They didn't. Instead, she walked in.

Ruby.

She strolled through the door like she owned the damn place, blonde hair catching the morning light in a way that made her look almost angelic—if angels were the kind of creatures that manipulated their way into your nightmares.

She dropped into the seat across from you without ceremony, propping her elbows on the table as she leaned towards you.

Dressed in a rob, you watched Ruby with a wide smile as she laid across the bed and painted your toe nails. “This has got to be the weirdest Christmas present I’ve ever gotten.”

Looking up from where she was painting your nails deep red, she met your gaze with a smile smirk. “How is this weird?”

You didn’t answer with words, but simply gestured to her and your feet.

“This is weird?” she asked, genuinely confused. “I thought human girls like the whole pampering thing.”

“I’m not just a human girl… I’m a human hunter girl. The closest thing I’ve ever gotten to a ‘pampering’ is when I scrub a few layers of skin off after bad hunts,” you noted.

Shrugging, she closed the bottle of nail polish before climbing up the bed and over you. Straddling your hips, sitting in your lap, she twirled her fingers around your hair delicately.

“Being a hunter doesn’t mean you don’t get to enjoy the finer things in life,” she countered, leaning in to brush her lips against yours. “Let me help you enjoy them.”

Eyes fluttering closed at the feel of her lips against yours, you caved. “Okay. Just… no more feet.”

“Fine by me.” Her lips curved into a grin. “How about we work on the thighs?” Reaching between the two of you, she slipped her hand underneath your rope and scraped her nails against your inner thigh lightly. “I bet they’re very tense.”

“Mm-hmm.” You nodded, letting your head fall back against the wall behind you. “Very tense.”

“Well, I can help with that.”