[FIC] Stick You in Here.
Title: Stick You in Here.
Fandom: Supernatural/Digital Devil Saga.
Warnings: Bloodplay, gore.
Characters/couples: Dean/Heat.
Summary: It had been down right freaky at first, of course. Y'know, being a Demon Hunter that hunts with a demon.
Rating: R/NC17.
Notes: They so would be BFF.
Stick You in Here.
"Dude, that's just nasty."
Dean'd like a coffee. It's crack of dawn, they didn't get any sleep because, dammit, those suckers had been damn hard to kill, and now instead of taking a bath or eating something or fucking or even just sleeping, he has to wait for his hunting partner to finish dinner. Or breakfast.
One of the heads swallows.
"Shut the fuck up."
Dean smiles charmingly, playing it cool, but then he lights a cigarette. If he's gonna wait, at least he's going to have a smoke, even if the smell bothers Heat. Agni. Whatever.
As he takes a drag, Dean thinks it's almost amusing, now. It had been down right freaky at first, of course. Y'know, being a Demon Hunter that hunts with a demon. Weird and it had made him think he had finally crossed the limit between sanity and batshit insane but
(then he remembers sammy's eyes going black and empty and smiling that fucking smile that was so out of place in sammy's face and the promise he made to himself that he'd do anything in his power to get his brother back)
it's not so bad. Heat's even weirder than him, but a good hunter (for a demon) and, surprisingly enough, between curses and fists - when Heat's human, of course; Dean's somewhat of an idiot but not THAT much of an idiot - they had ended up getting along, or as along as either of them can which means that they don't kill each other and, one thing lead to another and. Well.
Happens that they both get off when fighting, and if your partner's near bloody and sweaty and swearing, what the fuck does one care if his mouth tastes of blood and you know tha the blood doesn't belong to either of you?
Dean waits a little away from Agni, far enough that the demon won't get any ideas while it's blood-lusty; he'd rather deal with Heat when he's horny, thanks. He smokes a little more, knowing that Heat will complain of the smell in his clothes, of the taste in his mouth and skin. Dean complains about the blood, but he doesn't really mean it. He has gotten a taste for it.
"Oi, big guy," he calls finally, throwing the smoke to the floor and stepping on it. One of Agni's heads turn towards him, teeth bared, but that stopped being scary a while ago. "We gotta go, and you better clean up. You're not fucking getting entrails in my car again."
The demons snears but then shifts and goes back to being Heat, who's also looking for someone. Who? Dean doesn't know and doesn't particularly care.
"Yeah, yeah," Heat says, rolling his eyes and walking towards him. Dean stops him before he brushes by his side, leaning forward to lick harshly at the blood smeared over a side of his face before smirking, tasting the iron-rich blood over his tongue.
"You had something there," He says, giving Heat back his gun while he starts walking.
He wins a bet with himself when, after just taking five steps, Heat presses him hard against the bark of a tree, bloody lips on the side of hix neck, but then he's busy trying to get his hand inside Heat's pants to gloat too much about it.
Fandom: Supernatural/Digital Devil Saga.
Warnings: Bloodplay, gore.
Characters/couples: Dean/Heat.
Summary: It had been down right freaky at first, of course. Y'know, being a Demon Hunter that hunts with a demon.
Rating: R/NC17.
Notes: They so would be BFF.
Stick You in Here.
"Dude, that's just nasty."
Dean'd like a coffee. It's crack of dawn, they didn't get any sleep because, dammit, those suckers had been damn hard to kill, and now instead of taking a bath or eating something or fucking or even just sleeping, he has to wait for his hunting partner to finish dinner. Or breakfast.
One of the heads swallows.
"Shut the fuck up."
Dean smiles charmingly, playing it cool, but then he lights a cigarette. If he's gonna wait, at least he's going to have a smoke, even if the smell bothers Heat. Agni. Whatever.
As he takes a drag, Dean thinks it's almost amusing, now. It had been down right freaky at first, of course. Y'know, being a Demon Hunter that hunts with a demon. Weird and it had made him think he had finally crossed the limit between sanity and batshit insane but
(then he remembers sammy's eyes going black and empty and smiling that fucking smile that was so out of place in sammy's face and the promise he made to himself that he'd do anything in his power to get his brother back)
it's not so bad. Heat's even weirder than him, but a good hunter (for a demon) and, surprisingly enough, between curses and fists - when Heat's human, of course; Dean's somewhat of an idiot but not THAT much of an idiot - they had ended up getting along, or as along as either of them can which means that they don't kill each other and, one thing lead to another and. Well.
Happens that they both get off when fighting, and if your partner's near bloody and sweaty and swearing, what the fuck does one care if his mouth tastes of blood and you know tha the blood doesn't belong to either of you?
Dean waits a little away from Agni, far enough that the demon won't get any ideas while it's blood-lusty; he'd rather deal with Heat when he's horny, thanks. He smokes a little more, knowing that Heat will complain of the smell in his clothes, of the taste in his mouth and skin. Dean complains about the blood, but he doesn't really mean it. He has gotten a taste for it.
"Oi, big guy," he calls finally, throwing the smoke to the floor and stepping on it. One of Agni's heads turn towards him, teeth bared, but that stopped being scary a while ago. "We gotta go, and you better clean up. You're not fucking getting entrails in my car again."
The demons snears but then shifts and goes back to being Heat, who's also looking for someone. Who? Dean doesn't know and doesn't particularly care.
"Yeah, yeah," Heat says, rolling his eyes and walking towards him. Dean stops him before he brushes by his side, leaning forward to lick harshly at the blood smeared over a side of his face before smirking, tasting the iron-rich blood over his tongue.
"You had something there," He says, giving Heat back his gun while he starts walking.
He wins a bet with himself when, after just taking five steps, Heat presses him hard against the bark of a tree, bloody lips on the side of hix neck, but then he's busy trying to get his hand inside Heat's pants to gloat too much about it.