“Really, that’s what you’re selling your soul for?” Amy asks, her lips curling into a smile. “Well, fine, but one one condition — I get to be the first to sample your new endowment.”
It’s a deal Fergus McLeod can definitely get behind, and with a malicious smirk he pulls the demon into a hot kiss, one that gets him up in a heartbeat — and oh, he just keeps going up! It’s not long before she’s pulling him into the grass by the crossroads, lowering her panties and hiking up her skirt, and he can’t wait to get his trousers off either, just to see the gift she’s given him.
It’s magnificent, thick and pulsing with want, and Amy takes a moment to marvel at her handiwork — “Not bad, if I do say so myself” — before leaning down to lick at it, then wrapping her legs around this hapless dupe’s waist and fucking herself him like she could ride him right down to hell.
“And I’m supposed to believe you’re a real angel,” Jack says, to which Balthazar’s reply is “Think what you want, but you have to admit, it’s an appealing possibility.”
“That I will, friend,” Jack says, and reaches out to caress Balthazar’s hip; the way Balthazar sucks in a breath is decidedly un-angelic, but the way he appeared is certainly not normal human territory.
So Jack’s torn as to just what he’s dealing with, but he does know he’d like to do a lot more than deal with it; they’ve been dancing around the idea for more than a few minutes here, and Jack’s reaching fuck-it-and-just-kiss-me levels of frustration. Balthazar’s there before Jack can reach him, though, kissing him with tremendous, lascivious passion, and from there on it’s all clothes-shedding and skin-caressing and moans.
Jack sees stars when Balthazar enters him, and as they fuck, he forgets that he was only bottoming so he could use the phrase “fucked by an angel” in locker-room talk; this is a good fucking, and he’s had more than a few… hell, he might even call the curve of Balthazar’s cock inside him “divine.”
Bela walked into the elevator and sighed, pulling her skirt—already perilously short—down a mere millimeter, her hands full of all sorts of files and folders regarding…well, Jack couldn’t really tell now that he had caught sight of her breasts.
“Hello, there, Miss…”
“Bela Talbot, Captain.” Bela smirked and put the files down, the elevator rising to the roof of the building where that TARDIS was waiting for him. “I’m your contact.” She smiled and removed her blouse slowly, button by button, Jack’s eyes following the minute movements of her fingers and the rise and fall of her chest, the goosebumps that rose on her flesh as she dropped the shirt to the ground.
“My…contact, huh?” He grinned and pushed her against the back of the elevator, running his hands beneath her skirt and sliding his fingers between the silk of her panties and the softness of her cunt. “Well, I certainly hope we come in contact.” Groaning, Bela wrapped one arm around Jack’s neck, sliding the other into his back pocket to swipe his wallet while he preoccupied himself with her zipper.
“You and me both, Captain. You and me both.”
Under a cut for what could be perceived as dubcon.
The devil’s words were soothing and his body was even kinder, not holding her down but making her want to go there. It was a little bit like selling her soul, Martha thought, but when the devil came in such an appealing package it seemed worth it — especially the way he thrust into her, made her arch, brought her screaming to the peak of her first orgasm before even starting to fuck her in earnest. Everything was so controlled, and in response she could only shake and beg and claw at him, begging him for more, legs spread and trembling as he hissed promises in her ear that she was too smart to believe. And now, fucked out, she lay there, knowing he was watching her hungrily, knowing his come was seeping out of her well-used cunt, but finding no reason to care. His finger caressed the inside of her thighs, drawing a pattern through the mess, and she wondered idly if he was signing a contract she should regret.
“Come on, Mr. Williams. Nobody will know.” Bela whispered, sliding her hands into Rory’s shirt and whispering seductively into his ear; Rory tried his best to remain calm, but his breath hitched in his throat nonetheless. “Not even the Doctor. He won’t even see.”
“Bela, please. He knows more than you give him credit for.” Bela laughed and straddled Rory’s waist, grinding gently into his half-hard cock, still concealed beneath his jeans; Rory groaned and twisted uncomfortably as she unzipped them and pulled it free. “Or I could just play with you until you say yes…”
“Alright, alright!” He yelped and picked her up, laying her out on the console and pushing up her skirt, his hands shaking and his mouth dry, certain that the Doctor would return any moment and see them at their business. “Just let me…” He licked his hand, rubbed it quickly over his cock, and pushed inside of her, sighing in relief at the luscious sensation and surprised to find that the suspense, the ever-present threat of the Doctor’s return, was heightening his pleasure. It wasn’t long before he was thrusting willingly in and out of her, their cries unceremoniously ringing through the TARDIS; to hell with the Doctor.
“Please, please Rory, let me come.” Dean had been particularly smart with Rory today; he could only put up with so much of Dean’s whining and swagger, after all, and he wasn’t about to let him get away with it. That was how Dean had ended up sprawled on the bed, tied by the wrists and ankles with a vibrator shoved up his slick ass, Rory fiddling with the remote control absent-mindedly so that there was no pattern, no rhyme or reason to the sensations filling Dean. “I—I’ll do anything, I s-swear to God.”
“You’ll keep your mouth shut, is what you’ll do. That’s how you got in this mess, remember?” Dean swallowed and tried to remain silent, pursing his lips into a determined sneer. “Much better.” Rory stood over Dean and smiled kindly, touching the head of his leaking cock gingerly and twisting the vibrator inside of him with his other hand. “Now, try to stay that way while I take care of myself.” Dean groaned loudly through his teeth as Rory moved away again, unzipping his own trousers and sighing happily, his fist closed around his own cock and his eyes fixed on the weeping mess of Dean before him.
Amy was a feisty one, not one to take orders or submit to anyone; luckily, neither was Crowley, and he supposed that was why they were drawn to each other in the first place—their sheer lack of respect for each other’s dominance. Tonight he had caught her in her dining room and flung her onto the table, clambering atop her and licking her neck greedily.
“My dear, you just can’t turn your back on me like that, you know.” Amy grinned and caught Crowley by the hair, flipping him onto his back almost as easily as he had done to her only moments before; had she always been so strong?
“Listen up, Mr. Scary Demon. You’ve got nothing on me.” With that, she took a kitchen knife and stabbed it through the arm of his suit, pinning him effectively to the table. “You’re following MY rules from now on.” With that, Amy leaned down and sunk her teeth in to Crowley’s neck, sucking hard until his vessel’s blood rose to the skin; he moaned and grabbed her ass with his free hand, pulling her close and grinding his cock between her legs.
“Ah…alright, girlie. Just this once.” Amy smirked victoriously and divested herself of her panties, crawling over his face so that her cunt loomed temptingly above his waiting mouth.
“Get on with it then.”
“Come on boys, give me your best shot.” Martha beamed, her beer teetering precariously between her fingers; she’d been away from the Doctor for nearly a month now, and with these two boys she had experience just as much adventure, just as much fun…she figured she owed them a little payment. Luckily they were both drunk enough to go for it, and within minutes they had divested her of her clothes and their own, and she was speared neatly on Sam’s cock, deep inside her cunt with Dean behind her, fingering her tight ass. “Well, this is….ungh, certainly different than any…oh, fuck, hurry up!” Dean obeyed, lubing himself up and carefully sliding inside of her; the stretch of them was unbelievable, their two cocks, similar but so different, rubbing against each other with just that thin layer of flesh between. The boys, meanwhile, had set to work sucking her breasts, stroking her quivering stomach, reaching around her to tease her clit. The myriad sensations that they were gifting her became too much, and she came violently over Dean’s hand, thrusting into it as the boys continued to thrust into her—it wasn’t enough to make her forget the Doctor, but right then, she couldn’t have cared less.
The angel approached her, and for a moment Martha was nervous, but only just, for his blue eyes were adoring and his hands open; he fell to his knees and kissed her hands, her wrists, nuzzling into her thigh. “You are a savior, Martha Jones.” He whispered into her jeans, the warmth of his breath seeping through the thin denim and sending shivers down her spine, and Marthan felt at peace then, more then she had for a long time.
“I just…did what I had to do.” She shrugged dismissively, but the angel would hear none of it; he laid her back onto her couch and crawled atop her, ravishing her body with his mouth and hands with the gentle caress of a feather and the purpose of a zealot.
“Hush.” He whispered and pulled away her jeans, stroking her smooth skin and moving between her legs, laving her cunt with his tongue. She cried out, surprised at the skill with which he pleasured her, arching upward and letting him thank her in his own way.