Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Dean was sitting outside a gas station mini-mart in the parked Impala, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel and listening to the tinny ring coming through his phone. The cell service here wasn’t great, but it was the first place he’d spotted off the highway, and since he didn’t actually know where he was heading next, bad service would have to be enough.

The third or fourth ring cut off with a click and Dean sat up straighter, fingers freezing mid-drum to grip the steering wheel.

“Dean.”

God. Just his name in that voice, slow and so damn sweet, like warm honey. Dean melted back into the seat again, couldn’t even bring himself to be embarrassed about it. He rested his head on the top of the seatback and tried to ignore the disproportionate tightening in his belly instantly elicited by that one damn word.

“Hey, Benny. How ya doin’?” There, that was normal.

“I’ve been better brother, but can’t really complain.” He sounded a little weary, strained just slightly at the edges. It might have been buried under all that charm, offset by the casual words, if Dean wasn’t practiced at listening for it.

“Yeah… I feel you.” And he really did, but it wasn’t a conversation he planned to have over the phone. “You still in the same place?”

“Sure am.“

Oh thank Christ. “Awesome. Me and Sam caught a case nearby and I’m actually in town now. Wanna grab a beer?”

‘Nearby’ meant an hour and a half away and that Dean had driven here blindly on the off-chance that Benny hadn’t already moved on, but he was keeping those details to himself.

“That brother of yours actually let you off the leash?”

Dean scoffed, sat up again, like he couldn’t recline and defend himself at the same time. “He’s not my fucking keeper.” Never mind that he’d purposely not told Sam shit about where he was going or who he planned to meet. More details.

“Course he ain’t.”

Dean could hear Benny smirking and it got his blood pumping like nothing else. “Just text me the address to a bar that doesn’t suck, okay?”

“Sure thing, chief. See you soon.”

The line clicked again and Dean tossed his phone on the bench beside him, starting the engine before remembering he still didn’t know where he was going. Jesus, he was all over the place. He swiped the phone up again and began tapping it idly on the steering wheel, chewing his lip for good measure while he was at it.

It was less than a minute before the address came through, and Dean thanked the Almighty Whoever for Benny’s technological adaptability. He’d only known about the existence of cell phones for how long now? Two months? But dude could look up an address and text no problem. His ability to acclimate was actually pretty hot, in an apex predator kind of way, and Dean’s brain had officially gone off track.

He plugged the address into his map app, checking for an ETA. Usually he’d just find his own way there and enjoy the ride, but now was truly not the time for that.

Fourteen minutes. Both too long to keep him from continuing his journey out of his own skin and not nearly long enough to even attempt to get himself under some kind of control.

Fuck it. Here we go.

He backed out of his parking spot with a lot more flare than necessary, engine revving high, and took off for the bar.

┫      ╋      ┣

Benny was too hungry for this, he realized it as soon as he walked in. There were only three or four other patrons on a weeknight, but they lit up his senses like the place was packed wall to wall. He grabbed a couple of beers and settled in a booth as far away from them as he could, purposely stretching his senses out and past them.

He’d been tracking Dean since they’d talked on the phone, his focus automatically redirecting to find Dean’s familiar scent among the masses the second he knew he was nearby. It was all wrapped up in the leather-gasoline-gunpowder smell of his car, but then that smell was more or less essence of Dean anyway.

It’d taken Benny a few minutes to get to the bar himself, so Dean was only blocks away by the time he sat down, and the hunger he’d felt when he’d walked in was becoming impossible to ignore. The less distance between them, the more Benny could pick out the individual pieces of Dean’s profile, and it was making him a little crazy. He took a sip of his beer and tried to concentrate on the more nondescript smells of shampoo and toothpaste and cotton and denim, but they were so tangled up with Dean’s hair and skin and sweat and blood that Benny could hardly separate them. By the time Dean made it to the parking lot behind the bar, Benny was on high alert and coming quickly to the conclusion that this had been a very bad idea. He took another drink, nudging the other bottle into place across the table.

It shouldn’t have made a difference, but somehow the intensity ratcheted up even higher the second Dean crossed the threshold, long and lean and so goddamn handsome, light eyes alert and scanning. His scent crept forward ahead of him, finding Benny in the booth and wrapping itself around him before Dean had even turned his way. And then it somehow got even worse when Dean actually caught sight of him.

Having the full force of someone like Dean’s attention never stopped feeling like a gut punch. As soon as his eyes met Benny’s, his face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning… if any kid could have pulled off his particular brand of slow, sexy grin. Benny found himself smiling back, a weight lifting from his mind even as his body tensed in minute increments the closer Dean got to his booth.

“Benny!” He made it to the table and clapped Benny on the shoulder, hand lingering. His thumb brushed once down Benny’s neck and Benny had the very human urge to shiver at the intimacy of it. Christ if Dean didn’t make him feel all manner of things a creature like him had no business feeling. “Good to see you, man.”

He was exuberant, overly so, and Benny could tell right away that he was seriously keyed up. His heart rate was disproportionately quick, pumping away with abandon, blatant in the wrist right next to Benny’s ear. He tried to push the sound from his mind and just focus on Dean’s face, but that barely helped. He was fucking gorgeous, and it felt like a shock every time Benny saw him now. He couldn’t exactly say he’d gotten used to it in Purgatory, but without the constant threat of death as a distraction, the sheer physical attraction he felt for Dean in this more mundane world gave him even worse tunnel vision than the sound of his blood.

“Good to see you too, Dean.” And he meant it, regardless of everything else he was feeling. He’d spent a year fighting for survival with the man, and the closeness of that kind of companionship wasn’t something you could just shake off in a couple months. Lord knew he’d been trying. He gave Dean’s upper arm a squeeze and Dean finally released him, moving with unusual jitteriness to sit across from him in the booth. Dean was usually one of the most graceful humans Benny ever had the pleasure to watch—especially while fighting, when he was pure, glorious fluidity—but now he was all energy, limbs moving vaguely off time, like they weren’t exactly obeying him.

The table was small, and Benny started to shuffle further into his seat to give Dean some room, but Dean just slid in, stretched out his long legs and slotted them in with Benny’s, knees and calves resting alongside his. It was comfortable in a familiar way even as it was so deeply charged at the same time, the purposeful invasion of space and refusal to let Benny get out of his way. Dean acted like it was nothing, casually popping the cap off his beer with a bottle opener on his keychain, but Benny felt the tension in him, saw the slight tilt of his chin holding his face in Benny’s direction, receptive and waiting. Maybe Benny wouldn’t have been so attuned to it if he wasn’t drawn to Dean in precisely the same way, but he’d always been pulled to him with the same nameless expectation.

He made himself relax back into his own seat, letting his knees knock lightly into Dean’s, brush a little further up his thighs. Jesus, the heat of him, all that blood under his skin, like a perfectly outlined network of slow-burning fires. Dean blinked a little too hard, lips parting on a near-silent exhale, and Benny watched him curiously as he tipped his bottle to his open lips after a moment, like that’s what he’d been planning all along.

“Comment ça va, Dean? How‘ve you been?”

Dean shrugged, fiddled with the neck of his bottle, thumb smearing through the condensation. He seemed to be trying not to look at Benny for too long, and the avoidance was even more conspicuous from someone normally so forcedly direct.

Benny reached across, touched his fingers lightly to Dean’s where they held his bottle. Dean’s eyes flicked up to his, pupils dilating slightly and fingers twitching under Benny’s, like he had trouble keeping them still. Benny was fascinated. He thought he’d learned Dean’s reactions pretty well in that year together, but this was… something different. He rubbed his thumb over one of Dean’s knuckles, watching his eyelids flutter a little before he turned his face away, swallowing.

Benny leaned toward him, studying his profile, the tension in his jaw. “What’s goin’ on with you, cher?”

Dean looked back at him, and Benny could hear just the slightest increase in his breathing. He hadn’t moved his hand away and his skin was hot under Benny’s. His pulse also hadn’t slowed at all and it was damn distracting, especially with a direct line of touch, but Benny didn’t move his hand either. Dean finally breathed out, shook his head a little. “Nothing. It’s just… hard being back.”

Benny tilted his head slightly, examining him. Not exactly a lie, but certainly not the whole truth. He took mercy on him, moved his hand away to bring his own bottle to his mouth. Dean visibly relaxed a fraction at the broken contact and took his own long pull, beer shining on the center of his lips until he swiped the back of his hand across them. The movement flashed the tender underside of his wrist and Benny had his own moment of renewed tension, eyes locked on the pale purple-green beneath the thin skin until it was out of sight again.

Dean didn’t seem to notice, setting his bottle down with a clink. “What’ve you been up to?” he asked, idly tilting the glass back and forth in a half moon over the ring of condensation left behind on the table. He shifted his legs, like he was trying to get more comfortable on the booth’s thinly padded vinyl, and Benny was brought forcefully back to the proximity of him he’d been trying so hard to forget.

“Mais, y’know, just try’na keep busy.” When Dean merely took another drink, eyes expectant, Benny began telling him about the various odd jobs he’d picked up in the month or so since they’d last spent time together, such as it was, on that damn island. He wasn’t particularly listening to himself speak, thinking instead about the nearness of the fire under Dean’s skin and every other time he’d had those long legs this close. He could mentally trace the path of every vein if he let himself, the thick vitalness of each femoral on either side of his knee, leading up in beautiful crimson rivers to Dean’s—

Sweet Christ. Benny heard his voice falter, cleared his throat to cover it.

Dean was hard.

Not all the way, maybe not even halfway, but the amount of blood in his dick was definitely more than it should have been when they were just sitting there, barely touching. The entire situation reframed in Benny’s head, all of Dean’s physical attraction signs suddenly blindingly obvious. Dean was just stroking his fingers slowly down the side of his beer bottle, watching Benny talk, but Benny was so focused on it now that he might as well have been able to see it happening, Dean’s cock filling steadily right there in front of him.

Dean licked his lips, slow and unconscious and so incredibly sexy, eyes on Benny’s mouth as it moved. Benny finished his sentence a little haltingly, something about the elderly neighbor who had vastly overpaid him to clean out her gutters, and only realized he’d stopped talking when Dean naturally picked up the slack. “For a vamp, you are so goddamn moral. I’m telling you man, credit card scams are a victimless crime.”

He was smiling, charmingly sarcastic, but his legs moved again in what Benny now realized was likely a response to his growing erection. Fuck.

“I make do just fine. It’s not as if I need cash for three square a day. But I’d just as soon not sleep in my truck if I can help it.”

Dean had gone back to staring, this time at Benny’s hands where they lay on the table loosely framing his bottle, and he was amazed he was getting words out at all. Dean had his bottom lip anchored under his teeth, and Benny watched raptly as he let it slide slowly back out, plump and perfect.

He’d been stretching himself too thin, trying to save his supply, and looking at Dean now… goddamn did he regret it. He wanted that mouth on him, anywhere, everywhere, wanted his own mouth on Dean more than anything, but there was no way he could get that close to his bare skin.

There was so much blood between Dean’s legs now and the knowledge of it was becoming all-consuming. Benny wished he could shut off his awareness, but even if he hadn’t already realized what was happening, Dean was absolutely radiating pheromones, and it was maddening. It was a marvel everyone else in the place wasn’t drawn to him like horny moths to a flame.

They’d both stopped speaking, just looking at each other, one of Dean’s thumbs drawing absentminded circles around the opening of his bottle, and Benny couldn’t help himself. He slipped a hand off the table, found one of Dean’s knees underneath it. He’d barely even touched his fingertips to denim before Dean tensed, knee almost twitching away completely. But Benny was watching his face, watching his eyes darken and mouth fall open slightly, breath quickening. Benny pushed forward, fingertips sliding up until he could press his palm down and squeeze just above the knee. Dean’s head tipped back against the wood of the divider, eyes half-lidded and ridiculously sultry, but Benny wasn’t looking at them anymore. His other hand clenched into a fist on the table as he took in the bare expanse of Dean’s throat, jugulars pulsing like a beacon.

Dean hissed and Benny dragged his gaze back to his face, realized the hand on Dean’s leg had tightened its grip too. He started to force his fingers to loosen, but then Dean’s hand was over his, his leg pushing into the pain, and Jesus, this had been such a terrible fucking idea.

Benny extricated his hand anyway, opened his mouth to explain why this just couldn’t happen, but then Dean’s knees were bumping his aside as he slid abruptly out of the booth. He stood, shoved his hands in his pockets, probably trying to detract from his hard-on, but all it did was draw Benny’s eyes right to it. As if most of his attention hadn’t been there already.

“I could use some air,” Dean said, voice low and rougher than usual. When Benny didn’t move, he jerked his head in the direction of the door, green eyes dark and intense until Benny stood too, completely unable to resist. Without another word, Dean turned and headed out the way he’d come in, and after only a second’s hesitation, Benny followed.

They walked in silence around the side of the building toward the parking lot, Dean several steps ahead. Benny was trying to decide how he was going to calmly shut this whole thing down even as he couldn’t take his eyes off Dean’s body, tracking down his broad back to his unfortunately mostly concealed ass and perfect thighs. He wanted Dean’s too-long flannel out of the way, wanted his jeans off and—

Dean stopped suddenly, spun to face him. Benny’s eyes shot up to Dean’s face faster than he would have been able to perceive, but still, Benny felt a little guilty. How was he supposed to talk the other man down if all he could think about was getting him naked?

They had stopped at the back of the building, Dean’s car nowhere in sight, which is where Benny had assumed they’d been heading. There was a single dirty bulb on the brick wall a few feet above them, and Benny’s advanced retinas easily absorbed the low lighting. Dean’s vision must have been much less proficient, but it didn’t seem to matter. He was looking at Benny with the most unrestrained hunger he’d ever seen on someone human, and everything in Benny was completely twisted up over it, aching to respond.

Dean took a step toward him and Benny moved back automatically, lifting a placating hand, like Dean was a wild animal. “Dean, hey, wait. Let’s just talk a second.”

“Yeah? About what?” His voice was even, edges contained, but his movements were still jerkier than usual as he took a few steps to the side, away from the building. Benny turned to match him, not realizing Dean was maneuvering him until his back was already parallel with the wall. Fuck. Wasn’t he supposed to be the predator here?

Dean moved forward again now that he’d positioned them how he wanted, and Benny stepped back, despite knowing he was putting himself only a few feet away from the wall.

“We can’t do this, Dean.” He was as gentle as he could be, but still there was an immediate shattering in Dean’s face. Benny tried to keep going, to speak past the hitching in Dean’s chest, his escalated breathing. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am cher, but I’m too—“

“Benny, I need it so fucking bad.”

He’d taken another step forward, pushing Benny even closer to the wall, and there was a desperation in his eyes Benny hadn’t seen before. It was even worse than before the first time they’d done anything in Purgatory, and that had been weeks without—

“Bon Dieu, you haven’t…?” Benny’s mind was spiraling out, filling in the blanks of the time since they’d been back with an entirely different view of how Dean had been living. It’s not like they’d promised each other some kind of exclusivity; Benny would have never even thought to ask something like that from someone like Dean. Part of him was just amazed by how obviously attracted to him Dean still was now that they were back in the real world where he had a practically infinite number of other options. But to think he hadn’t even been with someone else all this time…

“Not since we’ve been back. I just— I feel like such a fucking girl saying this but I haven’t been able to… without you.”

Benny felt his eyes widen. “You haven’t been able to come? Oh Christ.” What an unbelievable rush, knowing Dean was that torturously pent up. It was going straight to Benny’s cock, just thinking about touching him properly when he was this on edge, the sounds he’d make, that beautiful mouth gasping and— “Fuck Dean, you can’t tell me somethin’ like that, not now. Not when I’m—“

“I don’t fucking care, it’s the truth.” Dean stepped into him again and Benny stepped back one more time, feeling the press of the brick just behind him. “I can’t get myself off, it’s like there’s this fucking wall, and I’ve been so afraid of losing control and hurting someone that I haven’t gotten anywhere near anyone and—“

“So you just want me to hurt you instead? That ain’t particularly fair Dean.”

He moved forward again, but Benny had nowhere left to retreat. Dean was barely a foot away, and Benny couldn’t look away from him, couldn’t stop hearing the rushing of his blood, so close, just under the surface.

“Do I look like I care about fucking fair?”

God he looked like a five-course fucking meal is what he looked like, and it was worse than ever because Benny hadn’t been with anyone else since they’d been back either, of course he hadn’t, and all he wanted was to fuck Dean so hard he wouldn’t walk straight for a week, but he just couldn’t.

“Cher, listen to me, I can’t, you don’t know what you smell like right n— Dean, goddamnit, I mean it.”

Dean had lifted his hand to Benny’s chest, bending his fingers to curl around between the buttons on his shirt. It would have been fairly innocuous on its own except for how much closer he’d stepped in to do it, narrowing down the space between them to inches. He smelled like clean sweat and sex and Dean but he also smelled like food, and he was too fucking close.

“So do I, Benny. I need you. Please.”

But he didn’t give Benny another chance to argue. His fingers tightened on Benny’s shirt, twisting as he dragged him forward. Benny could have resisted, should have resisted, but his chin lifted instead, his body so damn ready to meet the press of Dean’s lips.

And oh fuck. Two months would normally be nothing to someone who’d lived as long as he had, but as soon as Dean’s mouth was on his, soft and warm and desperate, Benny realized he had missed this fucking terribly. Dean’s lips were already open, parted around the most incredible little whimpering, and Benny’s lips unsealed of their own accord, Dean’s breath instantly fast and hard and chaotic inside his mouth.

Dean’s tongue slipped in with an amazing amount of finesse considering the disaster of the rest of him, and a low humming started in Benny’s chest at the feeling and the taste of it. It was mostly beer, but under that was coffee and sugar and blueberries and the inherent, indescribable taste of Dean, and Benny was lost in it immediately. His hands came up to grip Dean’s jacket, the rapid thumping under his palms mirroring the sound he couldn’t stop hearing.

He didn’t notice when his fangs started to emerge, so entirely lost in Dean’s heat and perfect fucking taste. But Dean clearly did. His tongue pulled away slightly, repositioned, but Benny still didn’t realize what was happening until it was already probing the tip of a fang. A drop of blood hit Benny’s tongue, and he instinctively sucked the source of it farther into his mouth, Dean’s tongue placed precariously in the center of all his fangs at once, just barely touching. Benny lapped over the pinprick as he sucked, seeking, needing more. Somewhere very distantly, he heard Dean gasp softly, and then hands came up to frame his face, fingertips pressed to his cheekbones, holding him in place, and finally that was enough.

Benny’s eyes snapped open and he shoved Dean off with a colossal effort. “Fils de putain! I said no, Dean!”

Dean stumbled backwards a few steps but caught himself quickly. He just stared at Benny for several hard seconds, chest rising and falling with a kind of violent beauty. Benny was shocked, horrified, almost completely overtaken by a few fucking drops. The taste of Dean’s blood was still blooming in his mouth, so much more real than he ever could have imagined.

And then Dean was licking his lips, slow and sloppy, purposely spreading blood in a thin layer over his mouth. Benny felt his nostrils flare, pupils dilating too far too fast, watching as Dean stuck his tongue out between his teeth and bit it lightly, squeezing more blood out of the tip to run down his chin.

Benny tried to will his fangs back in, to calm himself down even slightly, but they wouldn’t budge, and he couldn’t. A drop of Dean’s blood rolled down his chin and fell to the asphalt, and it was the loudest sound Benny had ever heard. Dean was the hottest goddamn thing he’d ever seen, mouth covered in blood, looking at Benny with the most brazen fuck-me expression anyone had ever worn.

Then the echo of that blood drop was replaced by the quick swish of Dean’s jacket as he reached inside it and the snick of his knife as he flipped it open, drew it low along the left side of his throat without hesitation. A line of red marred his perfect skin and then Benny was inches away again with no recollection of having moved. Dean blinked at his much closer face, obviously startled despite himself at Benny’s speed, but he recovered almost instantly, dropping the knife with a soft clatter Benny barely noticed. He grabbed for Benny’s belt, jerking him in even further, head tilting back and away, inviting. His hand slid down to cup Benny’s length through his pants, grip tight and sure. He hissed, “Do it.”

Benny couldn’t take it anymore. Every bit of restraint he had left vanished like it had never existed, and he sank his fangs into the cut on Dean’s neck, tearing it wider. The taste of him burst hot and fast and ambrosial in Benny’s mouth and he moaned, stricken and overcome and so fucking turned on.

Dean gasped, “Yes, fuck yes,” and then he was struggling to get Benny’s belt undone, fumbling with his own at the same time. Benny was gone, tried so hard to hold himself to the moment, but Dean’s blood was gushing strong against his tongue and it was the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted. It was every alluring aspect of Dean he’d ever been attracted to distilled into a liquid, life-sustaining format, and it was so incredibly fucking good.

Dean was panting out fuck with every one of his breaths, his rapid heartbeat pumping blood fast and hard into Benny’s mouth. He’d gotten Benny’s pants open, rough palm slipping into his boxers and curling around his cock, and Benny tried to drag himself back enough to really feel it, to do something with his own hands other than clutch Dean’s shoulders tight enough that there were probably already bruises beneath his fingertips.

He couldn’t take his mouth from Dean’s throat yet, wasn’t ready to part with the free-flowing taste, but he made himself release his shoulders as he sucked, reach for the belt Dean was still struggling with between them. As soon as he knocked Dean’s hand out of the way, he was moaning and moving to grip the hair at the back of Benny’s head, somehow yanking him away and pulling him in at the same time.

“Oh fuck, yeah, please, please.” The words were nearly sobbed out, outrageously desperate, hips pushing into Benny’s hand like he couldn’t control it. Benny licked over Dean’s wound, trying to calm himself even a little as he got Dean’s belt and jeans open. Dean was already rutting gracelessly into his hand before he could even get the zipper down, and suddenly Benny’s need to see the face that went with that kind of desperation won out. He lifted his head, looked into green eyes so much darker than usual, forest instead of moss. They were completely unfocused, like Dean was having an even harder time holding on to himself than Benny was.

The initial fury of hunger was ebbing into a persistent kind of dull roar, and Benny lowered his head again, licked more slowly over the wound, probing the raw edges of it lightly, almost teasingly. Dean, already shaking, fully shuddered against him, his hand tightening involuntarily around Benny’s cock, and Benny wrapped his other arm around him, started walking them backward toward the wall.

He pressed his palm down fully, still over the jeans, and at Dean’s sucked in breath and slight misstep, Benny was suddenly impatient with the inefficiency of it. He pulled Dean’s hand from his pants, tightened both arms around him until they were flush, then spun them around and closed the distance to the wall in one fluid series of accelerated movements, moving his hands to grip Dean’s waist at the last possible moment. Dean grunted, a little oof of air as his shoulders contacted the brick maybe a bit too hard, but he went with it immediately, both hands in Benny’s hair now as he pushed his back into the wall for leverage, thrust his hips into Benny’s.

“Fuck, it’s so hot when you do that.” He pulled Benny’s face up, clearly conscious of his fangs as he kissed the corner of his mouth just beside them, over to his jaw, open-mouthed and wet.

“Mais, now I know you ain’t in your right mind. I seem to recall nothin’ but complaints ‘bout my ‘vamp-fueled manhandling,’ I think it was.”

Benny could still smell his blood, knew it was still streaming out freely just inches away, but he was trying to concentrate on the more human feelings Dean was giving him instead. The hard length of his cock was right up alongside Benny’s, jeans to boxers, and if that wasn’t something to motivate him to focus, Benny didn’t know what would be. Dean’s breath was hot against his throat as he huffed, “Shut up,” but he immediately followed it with a broad swipe of his tongue over the same spot. He pulled Benny’s head back farther by his hair, started sucking right where the line of his beard stopped under his jaw, his heat suffusing through Benny everywhere they touched, so vibrantly human. Being with him made Benny forget the ways they were different a little more each time, the potentness of his humanity forever a welcome incursion.

Flipping Dean’s jacket and flannel back out of the way, he slipped both hands up under his shirt, bare skin almost burning to the touch. Dean’s stomach rippled with a ragged breath and his head immediately thunked back hard into brick. Benny kept his eyes on his face and not on his re-exposed throat, making a concentrated effort to retract his fangs as his hands smoothed up over soft skin, every familiar bump and scar helping to ground him.

He managed to get rid of the fangs, but he couldn’t stop being aware that Dean was still bleeding. He suddenly had the presence of mind to get a hand out of Dean’s shirt and hold his palm down firmly over the wound, trying to jumpstart the clotting. Dean hissed at the pressure but it was very obviously in pleasure rather than pain, and then he was pulling Benny back in, mouth on his again seemingly as soon as he saw he was able.

His tongue slipped back into Benny’s mouth, eager and dirty, and this time Benny purposely focused on keeping his fangs in check, did his best to ignore the hard beat of Dean’s pulse under his palm. Dean’s hands were all over his face, running up and down his neck, burning fingertips and scrape of calluses, thumbs pressed hard into his jaw.

Benny’s hand crept further up Dean’s chest, brushing barely there pressure over a nipple, and Dean jolted, pulled back with a jagged little moan. There was even more blood smeared over his mouth now, and the fucking sight of him, strung out and gorgeous, pupils endless. Benny stared at him, feeling hunger in a much more human way now, thumbnail scraping lightly over the little hardened nub of Dean’s nipple just to watch the way his brows came together as he gasped, fumbling down to grip Benny’s shoulders.

“Benny, please.”

Before that night, Dean hadn’t ever been one for begging, and any other time, Benny might have liked to draw it out, but the man had been a desperate mess for so long now that the urgency was infecting Benny even more than he’d already be feeling on his own. His hands moved quickly to Dean’s pants, the right one not nearly careful enough to preserve the clotting it had helped start, and Benny made himself not be distracted by the fresh trickle of blood that immediately began oozing from the uncovered wound.

He tugged down Dean’s zipper, jerked his jeans down his hips, and found himself growling low in his throat as he realized Dean hadn’t been wearing anything under them the entire time. Dean groaned, finally freed, but Benny’s brain was flashing through images of the rough drag of denim on Dean’s bare cock the whole time they‘d been in the bar, during the walk out here; every one of his movements, each step rubbing sensitive skin.

He kneeled at Dean’s feet in another burst of too-fast movement he knew Dean wouldn’t be able to follow, dragging his jeans the rest of the way down his thighs as he went. Dean hadn’t yet redirected his gaze downward when Benny began nosing up under his balls, inhaling the dark musky scent of him.

“Jesus fucking—“ His hands scrabbled for Benny’s hair, words barely coherent as he tangled his fingers, gripped tight. “Benny, God, fuck.”

Dean lacked all the filth that had coated him every time they’d been together before, and until this moment Benny had thought he might miss the animalness of it, but he couldn’t have been more wrong. This right now was pure Dean, unimpeded by the grime and gore of Purgatory, and it was fucking glorious, ridiculously sexy, to smell nothing but his sweat and that perfectly secret scent that was indescribably him.

“Christ Dean, you smell fuckin’ exceptional.”

He nuzzled into him, breathing deep, beard softly scritching against his inner thigh. As he dragged his lips up over his balls, he could feel the heavy fullness of them and thought again of how long it had been since Dean had come, how incredible it was that he hadn’t been able to without Benny. Dean’s hips stuttered forward into his face seemingly against his will, his breathing loud, and Benny pulled back a little to look up at him—but didn’t make it past his cock.

It was so damn hard, beautiful and straining, head red from rubbing on his jeans and shiny with pre-come. Benny watched as a new drop eased out of the slit and flicked his tongue out to catch it, humming as it spread across his tastebuds. He pressed his tongue more fully to the head, and then Dean was curling over him, yanking him back by the hair.

“Oh fuck, you can’t,” he gasped. “I’ll come so fucking fast.”

Benny sat back on his heels as Dean let go of his hair with obvious effort. He grinned up at him. “Tell me where the problem is, cher.”

Dean groaned, looking genuinely conflicted as he watched Benny lick his lips and then part them slightly, ready and waiting. But then he was shaking his head, fervent, and putting his left boot up on Benny’s shoulder. Benny raised an eyebrow at him but Dean began dedicatedly tugging at the ties, and Benny immediately understood. Dean loosened the laces just enough to tear the boot off and toss it to the side, then he was pulling that leg of his jeans the rest of the way down.

Benny kneeled patiently through the process, thinking he could have done the whole thing quite a bit faster—especially with Dean’s current uncharacteristic clumsiness slowing him down—but he enjoyed the view from where he was nonetheless, Dean’s cock bobbing and beautiful bare expanse of his thigh flexing. Dean finally got his leg free, not bothering to remove his sock, and pulled Benny to standing again, Benny going easily, following his lead.

He was a little surprised when Dean yanked his boxers down and hooked his now fully bare leg around Benny’s hip without any kind of discussion, but Benny grabbed his other leg unhesitatingly, hitched him up the rest of the way. He held Dean’s waist beneath his jacket and Dean wrapped his arms around Benny’s neck, calves tight on his ass, back braced against the wall as he let his hips dip, rubbed the length of his cock along Benny’s.

“Fuck, Dean,” Benny groaned. The heat of him was unbelievable, so much blood centered in one space, rigidly pressed against him. Dean’s head was thrown back against the wall again, a look of near-pain creasing his brow, mouth open around harsh breaths. He lifted his hips a little higher, muscles of his thighs tensing on Benny’s sides and arms pushing down on his shoulders as he rocked the crease of his ass against him, skin of Benny’s cock pulling, sliding, so good and nowhere near enough at the same time.

Dean’s intention was pretty damn obvious, but considering he was clearly aiming for immediacy, Benny thought it would have been easier if he’d just been facing the wall. He seemed to need the face-to-face as much as anything though, his eyes half-lidded and intense on Benny’s as one hand found its way back into his hair, fingers tightening sporadically as he ground his ass all over Benny’s cock, matching Benny’s grunts of pleasure with his own little huffs of breath.

But it wasn’t even a minute of this before he was reaching down beneath his own ass, back pushed even harder into the brick as he found Benny’s cock, lined it up with his entrance. Benny could feel himself nudging at the pure heat of the puckered skin and wanted so badly to let it consume him. But then he felt the pull of Dean’s waist under his hands as he started lowering himself, not even slicking Benny with the barest amount of spit or preparing himself at all, and Benny’s concern managed to cut through the haze.

“Whoa, hold on now.” He caught Dean’s thighs and held him still, eyes searching his. “Don’t you want me to—“

Dean made a little noise halfway between a whine and a groan, tried to rock his hips down again despite Benny’s firm grasp.

“No, fuck, can’t.” He grabbed at Benny’s face, pulling him in, dragged his mouth over Benny’s, messy little nips in between words. “Need you in me now, just wanna feel you.”

If this man wasn’t the actual fucking manifestation of temptation, Christ.

Benny tried to focus, Dean’s fingers pushing up through his beard, mouth all over him, Benny’s cock still held to his entrance like he hoped Benny would just give in. “Darlin’ I can’t hurt you like that, it’s too much. Lemme just—“

“Fuck Benny.” This whine was definitely more of a growl, forehead pressing hard with frustration into Benny’s, but then he pulled back suddenly, face lighting up. “Wait, shit, I have—“

The hand left Benny’s cock and he could hear it fumbling around in jacket material for a second before it returned, fingers clutching a little bottle of lube. Benny could feel his mouth pulling up into an overly keen version of his usual smirk. “Goddamn Boy Scout.”

He held his hand out between them and Dean flicked the cap open, dribbled some of the substance into his palm, tucked the bottle away again. Benny reached under Dean to slick himself up, Dean’s hips rotating against him again, messily smearing lube like he couldn’t help himself now that Benny was only holding one of his thighs. Dean wanted now, so Benny pressed his slick middle finger inside him without warning, digit instantly swallowed by tight, burning heat.

Dean arched into him, a sharp breath sucked in through his teeth, but his hand was clasped around Benny’s wrist before Benny could do anything else with it. He tugged, pulling Benny’s finger out of himself with another hissed breath, found Benny’s cock again instead, pressed it to his hole. He leaned in, mouth on Benny’s, voice rough and dangerous: “Just fuck me Benny.”

His mouth was savage on Benny’s as soon as he got the words out, all tongue and teeth, and Benny knew there was no holding himself back from a demand like that. He held both of Dean’s thighs again, let Dean guide as he pushed slowly into him, gasping into his mouth at the tight squeeze of fire around the head of his cock. It was so intense it consumed all of his awareness for a moment, nothing but that astonishing heat.

And then he felt hands clutching at his sides and looked down to see Dean’s arms reaching between his own thighs, hands inside Benny’s coat, gripping his shirt and pulling. He pushed down hard with his hips at the same time and all at once Benny was buried inside him, Dean impaling himself in one harsh movement.

“Putain de sa mère la pute,” he choked out, utterly swamped by feeling. Dean made a sound like he’d been punched, a gasping absence of breath, and Benny tried to make his eyes focus back on Dean’s face, sure the pain had to be too much for him even as Benny felt himself being completely devoured by pleasure.

Dean’s eyes were squeezed shut, long eyelashes stark and even more noticeable than usual, teeth lodged in his blood-stained bottom lip, but Benny knew him well enough to see more than just pain in his expression. His hands were like claws on Benny’s shoulders and Benny forced himself to be still, to wait it out. Dean’s pulse was surging around his cock, fast and throbbing, and Benny got completely lost in the feeling of it, watching Dean’s face gradually even out until he started clenching his muscles around Benny too, slow and experimental. Benny groaned, his hyperawareness multiplying the sensation almost unbearably.

“Jesus fuck Dean, you’re so tight.”

Dean’s eyelids fluttered open at his words and that flawless flash of green would have stolen the breath from Benny’s lungs if he’d had any there to begin with. He leaned his forehead against Benny’s again but didn’t kiss him, just breathed hard against his mouth, whimpering as he ground his ass down a little.

Not even their first time had been like this, even with the desperate, spit-lubed fuck that it’d been. He’d at least fingered Dean open then, had him cussing and scratching at any part of Benny he could reach before he’d finally sunk inside him, surrounded himself in the searing heat he would never get tired of.

Dean circled his hips, slow and deep, and they both moaned, Benny barely able to stand the slow rippling of fire. “Oh fuck, so fucking good,” Dean panted. “Benny.”

Benny could live a thousand more years and knew nothing would ever come close to the sound of Dean moaning his name in that exquisitely fractured voice, like Benny was shattering him and putting him back together all at once.

Benny surged into him, couldn’t stop himself, spreading Dean’s legs wider as he pushed into him impossibly deeper, his back bumping up the wall a couple more inches. Dean inhaled sharply but then he was gasping out, “Yes, God, fuck me, come on,” and clutching at the back of Benny’s coat, grinding down into him.

He pulled out, Dean’s body clinging to his cock so incredibly, and then slammed back into him, noise like a snarl in his chest at Dean’s gasping moan. He shoved his tongue into Dean’s open mouth, knocking his head back into the wall as Benny’s hips immediately picked up a hard rhythm. Dean’s tongue met his in an aimless coiling, little sobs of breath puffed into his mouth.

Dean’s hands were running up and down his back, his own hips moving with Benny as much as he could despite the tight grip on his thighs. Benny knew he was squeezing too hard, knew he was going to leave bruises behind, but he couldn’t seem to let up. He held Dean wide open against the wall, fucking into him deeper on every thrust, Dean just taking it so fucking beautifully.

His hands were all over Benny, pushing inside his coat, twisting in his shirt, knuckles in his ribs. He’d given up on even attempting to kiss Benny back and now just panted hard into his mouth, back arching like he couldn’t get close enough.

Benny had never seen him so utterly purposeless, so lost in it, unaware of anything else except them. It was fucking mesmerizing, more even than the feeling of being inside him, to know this was Dean after just two months without sex—without Benny. It was something he never would have even fantasized about, to have any claim on someone like Dean. But here Dean was, offering it up, offering himself, frantic and guileless. It was a goddamn gift, and Benny was going to treasure it while he had it.

Dean’s jeans were dangling off his right calf, belt buckle whipping Benny in the leg every time he pushed into him, and Benny couldn’t help feeling like there was something so perfect about all of it. It was dirty and dim and very questionably located, circumstances they were more than used to, but this was Dean out of control and uninhibited in a way he’d never been before, moaning loud into Benny’s mouth and writhing all over his cock, and it was fucking beautiful.

Intentional or not, Dean was putting so much trust in him, leaving Benny to be constantly aware of their surroundings in a way that, for once, Dean didn’t seem able to be. Even as he pushed Dean’s knees in toward his body, angling his hips higher so the head of Benny’s cock could more directly catch on his prostate and make him cry out so exceptionally on each thrust, part of Benny couldn’t stop thinking about where they were. His own belt snagging on the waistband of his boxers was just barely keeping his pants from falling the rest of the way down his legs and his coat was hanging down over his bare ass, but still, the absolute picture the two of them would make if someone were to walk out and see them. It was a different kind of danger than they’d had in Purgatory, a different kind of risk, and it was burning Benny up in a way he’d never really felt before, just imagining a stranger seeing him lay claim to this ordinarily unclaimable human being.

And Christ, Dean just felt so fucking good, hot and tight and radiantly alive. He was sweating everywhere now, a light coating over his skin, and Benny had to dip his head, drag his lips down the side of his neck, inhale the salty-sweet scent of him. He purposely avoided the wound farther down Dean’s throat even as it nagged at his awareness, closed now but still so available.

Dean was clearly still aware of it too, because as soon as Benny’s lips touched his neck, he tilted his head away like he had before, said, “God yeah, put your mouth on me again, wanna feel it,” and fuck, that kind of enthusiastic submission was completely impossible to resist.

Benny pressed his tongue to the edge of the cut, hips slowing to a deep, lazy grind as he let his saliva melt through the dried blood crusted over the wound. Dean breathed out shakily, slid a hand into Benny’s hair, rocking his own hips in time under Benny’s looser grip on his thighs, so damn kinetic. Benny traced the line Dean’s knife had made with the tip of his tongue, feeling over the cleaner area for the rougher holes he’d made. He moaned a little when he found them, his fangs slowly emerging again at the teasing possibility of more fresh blood.

Then Dean was tugging at his hair, saying, “Wait, no, fuck—“ and Benny’s head shot up immediately, eyes wide. Of course Dean hadn’t meant for him to feed again; of course it had been a one-time thing. He probably already regretted—

But Dean was tilting his head in the opposite direction, pulling Benny’s face to the unblemished side of his throat and begging, “Rip me open Benny, please.”

Fuck. Fuck. Benny’s fangs were fully out now, in fact he was probably fucking drooling, and it was a sign of how far gone he was himself that he didn’t argue this time, didn’t hesitate at all before biting down. His fangs tore smoothly through the taut flesh at the bend of Dean’s shoulder, blood flooding his mouth, and it was an instant, delicious rush. It was even worse than the first time, because now his cock was buried inside the creature he was feeding on, every primal vampiric instinct crying out for thisthisthis above all else.

Dean moaned, noise like a sob more than anything, sounding so fucking relieved. It was as if Benny drinking from him was fulfilling some deeply rooted need, and Benny didn’t know what to do with that, couldn’t even wrap his head around it right then. He started fucking Dean properly again, hips moving with no real conscious input, his body seeking pleasure on its own as he sucked at the punctures he’d made.

Dean made a sound like he was drowning, a desperate, choked-off breath, then both of his hands were clutched hard in Benny’s hair, holding him to his neck. He gasped, “God, God, I’m gonna come, I can’t—“ and that was more primal than anything, Dean ready to come untouched the second he was being fucked and fed on at the same time.

Benny growled into his skin, sucked hard and snapped his hips forward, rapid and deep, again and again, blurring the line between human and vampire motion without really meaning to. Dean actually shouted, a wordless cry of surprise and pleasure and maybe just enough pain, and then his fingernails were digging into Benny’s scalp, body clenching around Benny’s cock with intolerable, limitless heat.

It was so good, so amazingly fucking good, and it triggered Benny’s own orgasm so easily, he realized he must have been unconsciously waiting for Dean all along. He fucked him hard a few more times then just sunk into him, blood still pumping into his mouth, cock starting to pulse. Dean had gone almost completely silent like he couldn’t catch his breath, but his hands were nearly ripping Benny’s hair out, body jerking, squeezing Benny’s cock over and over again.

Benny had to see him, tried to keep his eyes open against the overwhelming pleasure long enough to extract his fangs, lift his face. He wrapped Dean’s legs around his waist, pulled him in by his ass, holding them together as close as he could, the heat of Dean’s come quickly seeping through his shirt, Benny filling him up.

Dean’s face was balanced somewhere between agony and bliss, so genuinely stunning Benny could do nothing but watch him as the last waves of his own orgasm wracked him. The heat of Dean’s come was spreading wider and wider across his shirt, still shooting out fresh but in slower, choppier bursts, and Benny couldn’t keep himself from reaching between them, wrapping his fingers tight around Dean’s cock.

Dean’s eyes flew open, filled with a blurry kind of panic, and Benny started stroking him slow, velvet skin slick with come. Dean’s entire body tensed, thigh muscles tight on Benny’s lower back, pushing Benny into him even harder. He clawed at Benny’s wrist, gasping, “Ben— Fuck—“ but Benny didn’t stop, kept his grip tight and steady, and Dean gave up, just held on instead.

His face pressed hard into Benny’s neck, his body trying to curl in on itself with nowhere to go except into Benny or back into the wall. Benny stroked him a little faster, completely disregarding Dean’s hand gripping his wrist like he’d rip it off Benny’s body if he could. Dean was whimpering breathlessly, entire body twitching and jerking, legs locked hard around Benny’s waist. He sped up even faster, Dean’s cock slippery beneath his hand, and Dean’s breathing cut out again, air sucked in and in but lungs unable to release it.

“That’s it darlin’,” Benny murmured into his hair. “Go on, come for me again, lemme feel you.”

He twisted his palm over the slick head exactly how he knew Dean liked it best, three, four times, and Dean fell apart, body bending back and away into the wall so suddenly Benny might have dropped him if he wasn’t still deep inside him. “Yeah, fuck, there it is,” he gasped, amazed he even could with the oppressive renewal of squeezing around his oversensitive cock.

His free hand had slid under Dean’s lower back reflexively, Dean’s shoulderblades pushing so hard against the wall that the entire rest of his back was suspended, his hands twisting white-knuckled in Benny’s coat. It stretched him out enough that Benny could look down between them, watch new jets of come striping up Dean’s shirt. There was still so much of it, and Benny groaned, desperately overstimulated but riding it out if only for the sound Dean was making, a helpless sort of keening more exquisitely vulnerable than Benny had ever heard him before.

It seemed endless, pulse after pulse coating Benny’s fingers, Dean shaking apart around him. Benny stroked him through it, feeling the hot, hard throb in his dick loosening, slowing, until he had nothing left, body quivering, cock twitching in Benny’s hand.

He looked back up to Dean’s face, lovely and anguished, finally releasing his cock to cup his jaw, smearing come over his stubble. He slid a thumb past his slack lips. “That was fuckin’ beautiful, Christ.”

Green eyes found his, trying to focus as Dean sucked on Benny’s thumb like it was automatic, tongue running aimlessly over the nail, licking it clean. Benny had still barely softened, but it was enough for him to slip out of Dean when his legs sagged a little around Benny’s waist, and Dean sighed, breath hot on Benny’s knuckle. He let his legs fall the rest of the way and Benny quickly moved both hands to his waist, his knees having buckled as soon as he’d tried to put weight on them.

“Holy fuck,” he laughed breathlessly, both hands on Benny’s chest to steady himself. He let them slip under Benny’s coat, around his back, leaning into him, head resting on his shoulder. Benny smiled, thinking about Dean’s jeans down around his ankle and his own pants around his thighs, both of them covered in come, and Dean, big and tall and tough, standing there hugging him, arms inside his coat, innocent.

Benny wrapped his arms around his broad back, feeling Dean’s still-racing heartbeat against his chest, his escalated breathing on his neck. Dean had always been a cuddler, and it was one of Benny’s favorite things about him. It had surprised him at first, when Dean would rather sit up next to him, shoulders touching and head lolling back into the trunk of the tree they leaned against, when he could have laid down, got some actual sleep instead. He was always close, hand on Benny’s shoulder while they walked, knee against his when they sat, and it hadn’t fully made sense to Benny until they’d kissed the first time and Dean had been all over him, hands everywhere like he’d been holding back every other second they’d been together. He’d understood then that Dean needed touch more than anything; he couldn’t survive without it. And it was something Benny was more than willing to provide.

But it was only a minute before Dean was taking a deep breath, stepping back from him. He was fantastically wobbly, and Benny was both concerned (did I take too much blood?) and shamefully proud (no, he’s just been thoroughly fucked rougher than I should have been), watching him stagger as he bent to get his foot back into his jeans, tug them up his legs. He hissed as he tucked his cock away but then immediately began scanning the asphalt around them, and Benny thought it was safe to take his attention away long enough to pull up his own pants and zip himself back into them.

When he started on his belt, Dean’s gaze flicked back to him from where he stood a few steps away, shoving his foot back into his discarded boot. He left the laces loose, eyes bright and intense on Benny’s. “Don’t bother. We’re not done.”

Benny raised an eyebrow but dropped his hands. “Is that right?”

Dean just grinned at him in answer, giving him a deliberate, appraising onceover, less on edge now but still obviously revved up. After a long moment he looked away to search the ground a second time, and then started walking, just a little unsteady as he swiped his knife up on the way past.

“Come on.”