His hands softly, carefully, slid down her smooth arm. His lips found her temple, as her hands found his now bare chest. He could see the blush on her face, as he whispered in her ear and she smiled softly, whispering back to him, as her hands wrapped around him and her fingers pressed into his skin.

A growl escaped his burnt, chapped, lips as his right hand smashed across the pipes and he dug his dirty, cracking, fingernails into his palm. His mixed eyes were narrowed, as he stared at the flickering image of the real world; of her bedroom.

Her mouth was a gap, as he kissed her neck, her fingers pressing harder into his skin. He looked up at her with a passionate smile, as he captured her lips, before whispering to her again. She smiled back at him and nodded softly, as he claimed her, burying himself inside her.

No! His claws slammed into the image of them, contorting it more. It wavered and twitched, before it came in clear once again, flickering ever so often. That little fuck! How dare he touch what's his, and has always been his. He narrowed his eyes to slits.

They rocked in time with each other, her legs wrapped tightly around and above her, pressing herself against his waist with his hands on either side of her head. Her face was flushed, as they stared into each others eyes, whispering and smiling at each other.

He grit his dirty, decaying, teeth. His fingernails have dug crescent moons into his dead skin, drawing greenish, yellowish brown, blood. He would kill him! He'd run him through with his blades. He'd make that piece of shit suffer til he begged for mercy.

His face buried in her neck, as their pace began to speed up and her nails bug into his bag, as her head rolled back, her chin in the air as she gasped and whispered for him. He kissed and nipped at her throat, his fingers curling into the sheets and breathing back whispered love of his own.

"Nancy..." He whispered in his deep, graveled, voice. He watched her face, her body, as she continued to allow that shit, Quentin, move inside her. His little Nancy was beautiful as she stared up with a sheet of sweat and mouth parted. Not at all like she was when he'd claimed her as a child.

She mouthed his name, as his pace increased and she buried her face against his chest as their position changed and she straddled him, their bodies in a Lotus position. She cupped his face and smiled as they stared into each others eyes with love and passion.

Yes. No matter how many times they were together and danced in the sheets, Nancy would be his. Nancy would always belong to him. Snarling, he wiped his claws through the image as she screamed Quentin's name. His time would come again. He'd have his Nancy back.

And this time, no one would get in his way.