Author Note:

I did not actually write this chapter. It was a gift scrib from Silvarbelle, but it fits in perfectly, so I has permission to post it!

You’re made of awesome, Silv!

Clay really wasn't terribly surprised when the Heylin forces split the Xiaolin Dragons apart. Everyone knew a team was weaker the farther apart its members were.

He also wasn't surprised when Johnny Betty approached him with a crazy-dog grin and her hands flexing into fists. The damned woman seemed to have it out for him. He'd like to know what in tarnation he'd done t' piss her off so badly, but then again... he didn't much care. All he needed to know was that she was mad, bad, and dangerous to know.

"Well, howdy," JB purred, taking a loose stance that did nothing to fool the cowboy. "Fancy meetin' you here."

Clay snorted. "That th' best you can do, woman? Corny ol' catchphrases? M' pet pig can do better'n that!"

Her grin hardened a bit, but she seemed truly amused when she replied, "That weren't what ya were sayin' a week ago."

Almost immediately, his brain surged forth a torrent of mental flotsam and jetsam of their last encounter. The heat and the wet and the sounds... Dear God, the sounds she'd made as she'd sunk down onto his straining erection and rode him like a prize pony at rodeo.

His mouth and throat were parched and he could feel his nether regions getting interested. Clay wasn't sure if'n he should skedaddle and let somebody else fight the hellion or make use of the tidy pile of rocks that looked solid but actually formed a pocket.

A pocket the two o' them would fit into right nicely.

"Speakin' of," he drawled, "I'm surprised ya're out here, doggin' me down."

"How so?"

"Well, considerin' I made you scream like a coyote bitch in heat..." he offered with a smirk.

Johnny Betty laughed; a low, wicked, throaty sound that did interesting things to his groin.

"Just 'cause you made me come don't make you Jesus, Bailey," she said snidely.

Behind him, he could hear the sounds of a ferocious battle -- the kind that sounded like it was going to go on for a while, with neither side winning or losing.

"Beats the hell outta me why I diddled ya," Clay growled. "Ya clearly ain't got no regards for it. Try not t' waste my time anymore, a'right?"

"Or you'll do what?" she purred back. "Beat me up?"

"If'n I have to, snake-woman."

She laughed at him again. Rather than say anything, she twisted her arms languidly above her head and undulated -- her entire body moving in a sensuous ripple that made his heart slam in his chest and his groin.

Still... he saw no reason to not make use of the position she'd put herself in.

Faster than she could move, he stomp-clapped a chunk of rock free and sent it hurtling forward. In mid-flight, his mind warped the shape of the rock so that when it slammed into her, it did so around her wrists... effectively creating a pair of handcuffs.

His control over the earth being what it was, he'd also increased the density of the material so that her super-strength couldn't shatter the rock apart. The momentum and the weight sent her jolting backwards; bouncing and rolling across the ground -- right into the rock pocket.

Ignoring his own sense of shame, Clay followed her.

He wasn't quick enough to dodge the boot that slammed into his jaw. He cried out when his lips split and he tasted blood.

Johnny Betty snarled and lashed out again, this time aiming for his crotch.

Thankfully, he knocked her leg aside, and then again and again, before finally pouncing forward and flattening her to the ground with his weight.

They glared into each other's eyes in the dim light of their little hidey-hole.

"Looks like the shackles're on the other body," she growled through tightly clenched teeth.

"Yeah," he agreed gruffly. "They sure 'nuff are, li'l lady."

Clay caught hold of the rock shackles around her wrists and forced her arms up and over her head. He slammed the shackles down to the stone floor and merged the materials together, keeping the density stronger than her, still.

Then, reaching down, he caught hold of her belt and broke it. Working quickly, he popped open the button of her jeans and ripped down the zipper.

"What? Here? Have ya gone nuts, Bailey?!" she howled, trying to wriggle free.

"Maybe I have," he snapped. "An' maybe it's just 'cause I know I ain't never gonna come callin' on ya like yer a lady t' be asked out proper-like!"

The words stung like a slap of wet leather, as he'd known they would. For some reason, the fury in her agate gaze only aroused him more.

"That don't mean I deserve this!" she screamed at him. "Don't! Stop!"

"Like you stopped when I said to?" he countered, and wrenched her jeans down from her hips; down her strong thighs and long legs. When he got to her boots, he pulled off one so he could pull a denim leg free.

When there was room to maneuver, he did so -- pushing her legs wide apart and looking down at the dark, tiny warmth of her.

His blue eyes lifted to meet her brown ones and he smirked.

"You're shiny down there, Johnny Betty," he said roughly. "I think ya like this."

"Bastard!" she growled. "If you do this, Clay Bailey, I will make your life hell from now on!"

"Too late for that, darlin'," he shot back, and then bent quickly.

Johnny Betty arched, shuddering, at the touch of his mouth on her moist flesh. Her teeth were clenched so tightly they hurt and she glared, narrow-eyed, up at the rocks curving above her. The heat of his lips on hers made her want to cry out in raw pleasure... but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

She couldn't stop the gasp, though, when she felt his tongue slide into her folds. God, it was hot, and wet, and so feisty as he flicked it wildly against her clit. Unbidden, her hips responded; riding up into him in a needful manner as his fingers spread her apart so he could get deeper into her.

Clay made low, growling noises as he licked, lick-lick-lick-lapped between Johnny Betty's legs. He didn't think too closely about what he was doing -- what he was going to do. He hated her like he'd never hated before. She was a horrible person and she was always trying to hurt him because she liked to, but jesusfuck, he needed to do this to her!

He dipped his tongue into her, gathered her taste... laved it over her flesh as he withdrew to tease her lightly before delving in again. He paused to suck on her clit, listening to her heavy breathing and muffled whines, and slipped two fingers into her; thrusting them in and out in a smooth, gliding motion even as he sucked and licked, and was rewarded with a vocal cry of pleasure and a wild surge of her hips.

Clay pulled himself further up her body and kissed her, sharing the taste of her sex with her. It wasn't a sweet kiss; rather, an expression of sexual frustration and enemy anger.

By the time he pulled back, both their mouths were bloody, each with their own cut lips.

"I hate you," he said, low and helpless. "I can't stand you an' your evil soul."

"Don't stop ya from wantin' t' fuck me," she shot back, and rocked up against him.

"No," he agreed, "it surely don't."

Clay lifted himself away from her and took hold of her hips. Lifting her while controlling the rock with his mind, he flipped her onto her stomach. Her arms rotated smoothly, the rock rolling around her so that she wasn't twisted painfully. Her jeans were shoved beneath her knees as he pulled her hips up and back; protecting her skin from as much bruising as possible.

Johnny Betty lay propped on her knees and elbows, waiting for his next move. Her hair hung in a hot tangle of black strands about her face and her pulse pounded in her throat and ears. He hadn't even touched her breasts, hadn't let her suck him. Which was probably a good thing, she realized, as she was so angry at him and feeling so violent that she might very well have tried to bite it off.

It galled her to feel herself tremble with excitement at the clink of his belt being undone; the rustle of cloth and the quiet purr of his zipper being lowered. Denim scraped over skin as he lowered his pants.

Then... heat. God, the heat of him. It rolled against her skin from his, heating her buttocks and thighs. More heat scorched her hips as his hands -- so big, so thick and strong -- took hold of her hips and used them as an anchor to pull himself closer to her.

She made a soft, strangled sound as the head of his cock touched lightly against her moist, eager flesh. Oh, God, she was so helpless before him. A big, strong man wanted her, and there was nothing she could do to stop him from using her.

That such a notion only turned her on more sickened her to her soul, but she said nothing; leery of frightening him away.

Ah... there. He was pressed more firmly against her, now, and... oh... oh, she was spreading around him, her lips spreading to welcome him into her.

Tiny, rocking thrusts teasingly pressed him forward until he could feel the swollen lips begin to spread around the hot-hot flesh of his cock-head. It excited him unbearably, sometimes, to know that with each spreading of those lips, they parted to open a passage that would encase him in heat and wetness.

Johnny Betty gave a low, moaning sigh and pushed her hips back even as Clay thrust up and forward; delighting in the thick, hard heat that speared up into her, filling her snugly.

In, out, and the long, thick hardness moved slickly inside her, stroking her beautifully -- defining her center and filling her up. Johnny Betty whimpered and clenched her fists helplessly in their rock prison. She began moving a bit faster, pushing back against him to take as much of his monster-cock inside her as she could as she murmured, “Please… oh, please…”

Clay laughed breathlessly; almost lost in the euphoria of his cock gliding in and out on a slick slide of greedy female flesh. He was inside her; inside a woman, and giving that woman pleasure. She was helpless beneath him, unable to say no as he used her like a whore.

"That's right, li'l darlin'," he crooned. "Beg me nice, now..."

Fury ripped through her, shattering the initial sex-calm, and she thrashed underneath him. "Get offa me, y' fat bastard!" she howled, and then grunted in displeasure when he pressed his weight down on her uncomfortably.

Clay's grip on her hips tightened, and he began to thrust and fuck in hard, animalistic strokes - shoving himself in and out of Johnny Betty, hard and fast; his cock hungry for the feel of her tight wetness.

"What was that?" he growled. "Ya don't like my size?"

She gave a low, despairing cry as her body turned traitor again and opened to receive him eagerly. Her hips rutted backward desperately, wanting his thick cock to plow her wide open.

"No," she moaned. Her eyes were closed as she focused on his cock splitting her open again and again, and reaching so deeply into her. "No, no... s' perfect... Damn it, Bailey! Fuck me!"

Clay shuddered hard as the woman beneath him flexed; holding her snug passage open so his long, hard cock could hammer deep into her without resistance.

He obeyed her request, no longer in the mood for bantering with her. There was only one thing he wanted from her, and by God, he was going to have it.

They fucked in the dirt and the rock, grunting and straining and thrashing against each other in wild heat - hating each other and needing each other as Clay thrust his cock deeply into Johnny Betty, and she flexed and undulated, trying to get him even deeper inside.

Desperately, Johnny Betty recalled the sense of his tongue fucking her only a few minutes ago. The memory was powerful enough that it was almost as if she could feel it on her at the same time his cock shoved violently in and out of her. It was enough to put her over the edge, and she turned her head to muffle her scream against her arm as she bucked helplessly against him, her body snapping and clenching greedily in the throes of a mind-melting orgasm.

Clay threw his head back so hard his hat flew off and splatted into the dirt behind him. His fingers tightened on her hips and he grimaced as his cock suddenly suffered the pain of being squeezed a little too tightly by Johnny Betty's vaginal muscles. He held on, stayed still; let her have her pleasure as she ground her hips against him, gyrating in little circles.

The instant she slumped bonelessly, her muscles loosening around him, he began moving again. He fucked into her in a frenzy, desperate for his own climax. His balls were hot and heavy as they swung between his legs, slapping against her sweat-slicked skin with each powerful thrust of his cock into her wet, heated depths.

When he glanced down, the sight of his cock plunging in and out of her wet sex was what tossed him off the cliff. His mind shorted out and he slammed wildly, uncontrollably, in and out of her as he came - spurting his hot, liquid lust deep inside her as her slick passage stroked him off.

Clay's lungs burned as he fought to draw ragged gasps of air into his lungs. His arms trembled as he struggled to hold himself upright rather than sprawl on her comfortably, which was something a lover would do. She wasn't his lover; she was just the easy bitch that let him mount and ride her. She was just a warm sheath his cock rested in, pulsing lazily in the aftermath of the greatest orgasm of his life.

When he finally pulled himself out of her, he watched his come slip from her well-used sheath and begin smearing down the inside of her left thigh. The sight of it made him hot and an interested twitch rose from his prick, but he forced himself away from her rather than take her again.

"That's what it's like," he muttered stupidly, his face heating. "That's what it feels like t' not have th' other person listen t' 'no'."

Johnny Betty gave a bitter, exhausted laugh. "We both gotta not listen t' 'no' more often."

His lip curled. "No. I don't wanna make this a regular habit. I jus' wanna kick yer ass into jail and let it rot there so I can have me a decent woman; one that's worth my time and attention."

She went cold at those words.

"Yer a mean bitch yerself," she whispered. "Yer way too good at hurtin' people, Bailey. Sure ya don't wanna come over t' th' Dark Side? We got the cool sex toys."

Again, that interested twitch from his cock.

Again, he ignored it and began tugging his pants up.

"Th' difference between me an' you," he said gruffly, "is that the only people I feel the need t' hurt are the bad guys. You like hurtin' everybody. An' it's that I can't stomach."

"Sanctimonious li'l shit," she growled. "Y' ain't got no right t' judge anybody's choices--!"

"I'm a champion o' Good, woman," he snapped back as he buckled himself up and scooped up his hat, slamming it onto his head. "That's all the right I need."

He got up and peeked over the edge of the boulders. The fight had moved away from them, but was still going strong. With any luck, he'd be able to rejoin his buddies and help whoop some Heylin ass.

He started to clamber out, but was stopped by her yelp.

"Where ya goin'?" Johnny Betty shouted. "Y' can't just leave me like this!"

His mind was already changing the density of the rocks even as he said, "Sure about that? Seems you liked the way I rode you, li'l filly. Maybe I'll keep ya like that; come back an' do it again so you'll forget all about tryin' t' kill me an' mine."

"Oh, hell, no," Johnny Betty growled, utterly furious. "Ya've only just made me wanna kill you more."

"An' it's sweet nothin's like those that make ya wonder why I don't want no more from you'n a quick roll in the hay."

With that, he scrambled out from the hidey-hole and loped towards the fight. He knew she'd bust her way free soon enough, and he didn't want to be there when she did.

His legs were a little trembly as he ran to join the fight, but even as he felt it, Clay smiled.

It had been worth it.