Fic: I Can't Quit You Baby, Cause You Got the Devil In Your Eyes
Title: I Can’t Quit You Baby, Cause You Got the Devil In Your Eyes
Author: discreetmath
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: Supernatural/The Vampire Diaries
Pairing: Dean Winchester/Damon Salvatore
Spoilers: Vague spoilers for season 4 of SPN and season 2 of TVD
Warnings: Explicit sex, mild dub-con, light bloodplay
Word Count: 7000
Summary: During a lag between hunts, Dean and Sam stop off for a weekend in Mystic Falls, Virginia. Sam’s just looking to enjoy the downtime, but when Dean meets a hot, enigmatic stranger, he might be in over his head.
A/N: Betaed by the awesome haughtymelodic. Title from "Devil" by Ida Maria.
Disclaimer: Characters and anything else recognizable do not belong to me. I'm just borrowing them.
Trees pass quickly outside the windows as the Impala rumbles up a nondescript country road. They’re half a day and five hundred miles outside of Macon, Georgia, where they’d spent nearly a week researching an especially unpleasant poltergeist. They had finally gotten the thing salted and burned in the early hours of the morning and grabbed a few hours of sleep before hitting the road.
Dean is already feeling anxious to move on to the next job. Bobby had said he’d call when he found a new case, but Dean’s phone remains stubbornly silent. He and Sam are working their way up the east coast in the meantime, following the roads of rural Virginia without any real direction.
“Hey, look,” Sam says, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between them. “We could stop off there for the night.”
Dean glances at the sign that Sam’s indicating. “Historic Mystic Falls,” he intones, before rolling his eyes. “Not really our sort of town, Sammy.”
“Come on, Dean,” Sam sighs. “It’s not like we have anywhere pressing to be. I don’t know about you, but I, for one, would like the chance to stay somewhere where ‘truck-stop adjacent’ isn’t the only selling point.”
“Yeah, well, quaint bed-and-breakfast isn’t really in our price range.” Dean huffs while glancing over at Sam. As expected, his jaw is set and is face is showing the early signs of pouting. He wavers for a few minutes, clinging to the delusion that he could really say no to a determined Sam.
“Fine,” he mutters, flipping on his blinker as they approach the next exit. “But if we wind up anywhere with doilies, so help me, I will end you.”
---
The place they end up staying is actually pretty inoffensive. It’s a quiet inn on a quiet street, but there are no lace curtains or little old lady proprietors in sight. They got checked in quickly, didn’t get a single skeptical look when they requested a room with two doubles, and the shower has awesome water pressure. Maybe this place isn’t so bad after all.
Dean’s changed into fresh clothes and is reclining on his bed watching a Dr. Sexy MD rerun by the time Sam gets done with his shower. He sits up and plants his booted feet on the floor as Sam hunts through his bag.
“All right, Sammy. You wanted to stay in classy digs like this, so you gotta help pay the rent. There’s gotta be a decent bar in this town. God knows if I had to live here I’d need somewhere reliable to get a drink.”
Of course, Sam has already been leafing through a booklet of local attractions, the giant dork. “We could try Mystic Grill,” he suggests, pulling on a shirt. “There doesn’t exactly seem to be a wealth of options.”
“Good enough for me. Let’s see if we can’t find some action,” Dean says, walking to the door impatiently as Sam laces up his boots. Sam rolls his eyes and follows, and they head out into the peaceful small-town night.
----
“I gotta hand it to you, Sam. This place... does not suck.” Dean is looking around at what seems to be part bar, part family restaurant, though at this time of night he’s not seeing any families around. What he does see are a truly impressive number of attractive women, and more than a few douchey-looking rich kids playing pool.
“I’m pretty sure half of these girls are jailbait, Dean,” Sam mutters, apparently following and disapproving of Dean’s line of thought.
“Whatever, Sammy, don’t you rain on my parade.” Dean gives him a wide grin and a wink before working his way across to the bar, where he orders a beer and sits back to scope out the pool tables. It doesn’t take long before he spots a tall, dark-haired kid who looks to be made of money and, more importantly, in the early stages of getting good and drunk. He sidles over, plasters on his best innocent smile, and clears his throat.
“You feel like playing a game?” he asks, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. The kid gives him a measured look before nodding and gesturing to the rack of cues. Over the next two hours, he learns that the kid’s name is Tyler, his family has so much money it should be illegal, and he’s pretty easy to con given a little bit of time and a fair amount of Bud Light.
He glances back to check on Sam a few times, and finds him at the bar talking to a smoking hot blonde in a tiny blue dress. And he had the nerve to warn Dean about jailbait. Whatever, if Sammy manages to get laid, he’s sure even the authorities would recognize the extraordinary circumstances and look the other way.
After he’s made a few hundred dollars, Dean starts to recognize the signs of a disgruntled mark. Tyler is starting to look less easygoing and more pissed off, so he decides to make this his last game and misses a few easy shots to let the kid win a couple bucks back. It seems to alleviate his anger a bit, and Dean buys him a beer before patting him on the back and turning to go get Sam and head back to the hotel.
His plans are quickly interrupted when he runs into a guy who was apparently hovering right behind him. Jesus Christ, was Cas teaching Lurking for Beginners now?
“Hey, man, do you mind?” he says roughly, glancing up at the guy. And... damn, he is seriously hot. Not that Dean’s into dudes or anything as a rule, but exceptions can be -- and have been -- made. The stranger, who Dean’s brain has traitorously dubbed “insanely hot guy,” gives Dean an appraising look, his eyes drifting down his body in a way that would make a lesser man blush. Dean is definitely not blushing. Goddamn fair complexion.
“No,” the man says, his voice quietly amused. Had Dean asked a question? It’s suddenly hard to remember, and he’s embarrassed at how obviously flustered he must look.
“No, I don’t mind,” the guy clarifies, dragging his eyes back up to meet Dean’s, and fuck, does this guy have gorgeous eyes. Light blue and piercing, and when did Dean turn into a teenage girl? He takes a slow breath, determined to regain control of this situation. He spends a moment trying to compose himself, but the stranger speaks again before he can come up with a decent line.
“I’ve just been watching you play with Lockwood over there, and I figured I’d better keep an eye on things before you hustled him right out of his lunch money.”
Shit, Dean thinks. “Friend of yours?” he asks, his tone nonchalant.
“Friend of a friend. Well, maybe more like friend of an acquaintance.” He waffles his hand in the air. “But where are my manners?” He places a hand on his own chest and bows slightly. “I’m Damon Salvatore. And you aren’t from around here,” he adds as his eyes rake over Dean again.
“Dean Winchester. And no, I’m just passing through with my brother over there. We travel a lot for work.” He gestures to the bar, where he can see Sam and hot blonde chick still talking, shooting occasional glances back over at Dean.
“Sounds fascinating,” Damon murmurs distractedly, eyes widening a bit as he steps in toward Dean. Man, this guy is kind of a dick. Fortunately, he seems to be into that sort of thing at the moment.
“So, Dean...” Damon begins, leaning in closer. Dean shivers minutely at the way the man manages to make his name sound like something dirty. Whatever Damon was going to say, though, he doesn’t get to hear it as his brother appears at his shoulder.
“Hey, Dean, you ready to get out of here?” Sam asks, tugging on his arm like... well, like an annoying little brother.
“Nah, Sammy, you can go on, I’ll be back a little while later,” Dean replies, his tone strained but affable.
“You have the car though. I need you to drive me back.”
Dean curses silently. They had walked to the bar, so if Sam was making up some bullshit story about the car then he probably had good reason for wanting to get Dean out of here. Either that or his cockblocking skills were nearing Machiavellian levels.
“Shit, okay, yeah.” Dean turns to Damon. “Hey man, it was good to meet you, but I gotta get going.”
“Sure, no problem,” Damon responds, a hint of disappointment passing over his face before he replaces it with a smirk. “You boys have fun,” he leers, before winking at Dean and turning to walk toward the bar.
“Goddamnit, Sammy, this had better be good,” Dean growls, before pulling his brother out the door.
----
“So you’re telling me you dragged me out of there because some blonde high school chick-”
“Caroline,” Sam interrupts, scowling at Dean.
“Sorry, Caroline told you Damon was bad news? What is this, junior prom? I think you need to spend a little more time focused on your own hookups and less time worrying about mine.”
Sam’s brow furrows. “First of all, we were just talking. I think she’s dating someone. You know him actually, you were hustling him all night.” Dean rolls his eyes. “Second of all... I wasn’t exactly sure what was going on. I didn’t know that you were into that sort of thing.”
Dean opens his mouth to argue, but Sam presses on.
“It’s totally cool, man, I support you one hundred percent. Whatever makes you happy is fine with me.”
“Okay, hold it right there,” Dean cuts in, standing up from the bed. “Before you even start, I’m not gay. I’m not,” he repeats, speaking over Sam’s protests. “I’m just... open-minded. Equal opportunity. So even if it were your business, which I should point out it is totally fucking not, you’ve got the completely wrong idea. So don’t send off for your rainbow sticker just yet, you big girl.”
Sam’s mouth opens and closes a few times, before he raises an eyebrow. “Just let me know if you ever feel confused and want to talk,” he says, with a level of sincerity belied by way the corner of his mouth twitches up.
“Oh, fuck you, Sammy,” Dean retorts, but there’s no real heat in it. He heads into the bathroom to wash up for the night before coming back out and flopping onto his bed. He can hear Sam thinking, so he shoots him one last silencing glare before rolling over to go to sleep.
If he’s thinking about blue eyes, a smooth voice, and a smirking mouth, well. That’s nobody else’s business.
----
The next morning, the sounds of his brother moving around the room slowly haul Dean back to consciousness. He stretches, silently thanking Sam for finding what had to be the most comfortable bed he’s ever slept in.
“Oh, good! You’re up,” Sam said excitedly. “I was thinking we could walk around today, check out the town. The brochure says it dates back to the Civil War, so there’s bound to be some cool stuff to see.”
Dean cracks one eye open and fixes a glare at Sam. “Easy there, Sasquatch. You want to go antiquing, you’d better at least buy a girl some pancakes first.”
A few minutes later, Dean has dragged himself into some jeans and a tee shirt that’s only slightly wrinkled, and they’re headed out the door again. They walk down the street toward where they’d seen most of the town’s businesses last night. It’s Saturday morning, so there are plenty of people out, doing whatever it is that people in small towns do. It’s all very picturesque in that way that’s only ever managed to give Dean the creeps.
While they walk, Sam chatters excitedly about some Civil War battle that supposedly took place nearby. It actually sounds sort of cool, and Dean figures an old battlefield can’t be too lame, as historical monuments go. Maybe it’ll be haunted.
They wind up finding a diner that’s a bit fancier than their usual places, but it’s got strong coffee and real maple syrup so Dean counts it as a win. The waitress, Doreen, is probably in her mid-forties, with a wide, friendly smile.
“You two visiting from out of town?” she asks, after she takes down their order.
“Are we that obvious?” Sam replies. “Yeah, we were passing through the area and thought this looked like a nice place to spend the weekend.”
“In a town this size, when you’ve lived here as long as I have, you can spot a newcomer a mile away,” she laughs. “We’re always glad to have visitors, of course,” she adds, glancing between them with an appreciative gleam in her eyes. “What are you getting up to today?”
“Well,” Sam says quickly, “my brother here is a huge Civil War buff. We heard there was a battle near here, is that true?”
Dean shoots a murderous look his way before smiling up at the waitress expectantly.
“Oh, you came to the right spot, then!” she replies, shifting her focus onto Dean. “There was a battle at Willow Creek near the end of the war. Very big deal. This town takes its history very seriously,” she says, before lowering her voice a bit. “Of course, that was around the same time the founding families got rid of the vampires, so sometimes people get more excited over that bit,” she adds with a wink.
Dean and Sam exchange a quick look.
“Vampires?” Dean asks, injecting as much disbelief into his tone as he can.
“Oh, I know, I know. It’s silly, and it’s not exactly in the official histories. But like I said, this is a small town, and we all have our local legends.”
Sam smiles and nods politely, and they’re saved from saying more when a couple enters the diner and the waitress hurries over to help them.
They immediately lean toward each other over the table, lowering their voices.
“Vampires, really?” Dean says, sounding skeptical.
“Even if that story is true, apparently they’re gone. I feel like we would have heard something if people were getting killed in a town this small.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right. Still couldn’t hurt to do a little research.”
“You want to do research? Are you feeling feverish?” Sam asks in mock surprise.
“Hey! I do research! I’m awesome at research. I just like to let you feel useful once in a while.”
Sam rolls his eyes in exasperation, but he’s smiling.
“I guess we’re heading to the library, then.”
-----
After they’ve finished breakfast and left a nice tip for Doreen, Sam and Dean are back on the street. Sam has pulled out his Mystic Falls brochure again and is trying to locate the library on the small map when Dean spots a familiar head of blonde hair.
“Hey, Sammy, isn’t that your girl from the bar last night?”
Sam glances up just as she spots them, and he waves a greeting as she crosses the street to where they’re standing.
“Caroline, hey!” he says, grinning. “This is my brother, Dean. I don’t think you met last night.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Dean,” she says, shaking his hand. “And no, we haven’t met. I think you were a little preoccupied at the time,” she adds with a knowing smile.
“Nice to meet you too,” he says, pointedly ignoring her comment. He’d been trying to forget about that. Well, sort of.
“So, do you guys have any big plans today?” Caroline asks. “Because if you don’t, there’s a town picnic thing going on in a little bit at the park, and I thought you might like to come.”
Dean glances at Sam, who appears to be nodding in agreement.
“Hey, we’d love to, but Sam and I actually have a thing we were going to do today.”
Sam looks at him, disappointment evident in his eyes, before shrugging. “Yeah, we actually have plans already,” he tells her with an apologetic smile.
Dean looks between them for a minute before rolling his eyes dramatically.
“I guess I don’t really need you for that thing, Sammy, if you want to go ahead and go. Just don’t pick him if there’s a three-legged race or anything,” he adds as an aside to Caroline. “His freaky giant legs will just mess you up.”
Caroline laughs as Sam looks at Dean uncertainly.
“You sure, man? And you’re sure you don’t want to just come with?”
“Tell you what, you guys hang out, I’ll go get a couple things taken care of, and then I’ll meet you there later.”
Sam smiles and nods his head. “Sounds good. Call me if you need me for anything, okay?” he adds as Caroline grabs his hand and pulls him down the sidewalk with a last wave at Dean. The last thing he hears before they turn the corner is Caroline asking Sam if he’s ever had a mani-pedi. He chuckles to himself, filing that away for later, before setting himself to the task of finding the library.
-----
The Mystic Falls library is in a decently sized building just off the town’s main street. It was pretty empty when Dean got there, and it hadn’t taken him long to find the section on local history and the old newspapers on microfilm. He searches the papers for the typical stuff: unusual deaths, suspicious-sounding animal attacks, and all that. Nothing really jumps out, so he turns his attention to the small stack of books he’s pulled from the shelves.
It’s mostly boring, dry town histories, but there’s some local lore mixed in. After an hour or two of reading Dean has learned a few interesting things. Apparently the town’s church had burned down around the same time as that Civil War battle. There’s not much factual evidence to support the story, but one book indicates that the fire was set by the town’s founding families in order to destroy the (apparently considerable) vampire population.
The other interesting thing is that a name stands out in the list of families. It only takes Dean a minute to place the name “Salvatore” as belonging to the guy from the night before. So he’s apparently old money or something - that explains the smugness. Since there’s no real record of anything resembling vampire activity in the town after the fire, Dean decides to call his curiosity satisfied. He stuffs the books back onto their shelves and leaves the library quickly. Much more time there and he’s bound to spontaneously transform into Sam or something.
A quick text confirms that Sam is already with Caroline at the park, so Dean heads off in that direction, determined to stop trying to turn this little vacation into a hunt. It’s just for a few days; if Sam can have fun, then so can he.
---
When Dean gets to the park, it’s late afternoon and it looks like the whole town is there. He quickly spots a table piled with food and makes his way over there, smiling and nodding to at least a dozen people on his way. Small towns, man. He grabs a can of Coke from one of the coolers next to the tables and turns to watch the crowd. After a few minutes, he sees Sam talking to Caroline and a few other people, some high school kids and some looking a bit older. Caroline is talking animatedly about something, and Sam is clutching his stomach laughing. Dean figures he’ll wait a few minutes before he heads over and lets everybody meet the good-looking brother.
“Looks like he’s having fun,” says a low voice right in his ear, and Dean very determinedly does not jump at that. He turns to see Damon standing behind him, looking hot again in a snug black v-neck and jeans. Dean looks him up and down slowly, and feels a bit cheated when Damon doesn’t even look embarrassed.
“Yeah, I think he’s trying out the ‘gay best friend’ thing,” Dean replies, chuckling. “If it were me I’d have already sealed that deal.”
Damon looks amused. He steps closer, leans in, and asks “Is that a fact?” before turning and walking away toward the wooded area of the park. No, not walking. Sauntering. The bastard. Dean waits for a minute or two, watching the crowd, before turning and casually walking in the direction that Damon had gone. He knows it’s probably dumb, he does, but it’s like a compulsion to follow the guy and see where things will lead.
He clears the tree line and moves out of sight of the people in the park, and then he looks around for Damon. He doesn’t see him, so he continues to walk, listening for a sign of where the other man might have gone. Suddenly, Damon is right there, pushing Dean back into a tree. As the bark scrapes his back, he only has a moment to wonder where he’d come from before a hot mouth is on his. He gasps in surprise, and Damon takes the opportunity to lick into his mouth, pressing his body flush against Dean’s.
He can’t remember the last time he’d felt a rush like this; there’s definitely something to be said for a partner who can overpower you, and Dean’s jeans are already painfully tight. He feels almost adrift as they kiss, Damon nipping roughly at his lip before plunging his tongue into Dean’s mouth again. Dean’s body feels loose, pliant, and his legs fall apart so that Damon can slot his body between them. He shakes his head once, trying to clear the fog of arousal, but his hips buck forward helplessly as Damon mouths along his jaw before biting lightly at his neck.
A sharp pain registers as Damon’s teeth nick his skin, but it’s quickly pushed down by the fog that’s clouding his mind. On some distant level, Dean knows that something is wrong, but he’s already so far gone in his arousal that he can’t bring himself to care. He closes his eyes and tips his head back, baring his throat to Damon. The other man growls into his neck, parting his lips, and Dean presses forward desperately, wanting, needing--
“Dean! Hey man, where are you?” Sam’s voice cuts through the woods and Dean sobers instantly. He opens his eyes, but Damon is gone. Only his painful erection remains as evidence of what had just happened.
“Shit,” he whispers. “Shit.” Then, louder, “I’m over here, Sammy. Hang on, I’m coming to you.” He adjusts himself in his pants, wipes the blood from the small cut on his neck, and takes a deep breath before heading back out of the woods.
---
“So you just felt like taking a walk in the woods?” Sam asks, disbelief evident in his voice as they make their way back to the hotel. He’d apparently seen Dean just before he’d stepped out of sight and had assumed something was wrong.
“Yeah, why is that so hard to believe? It’s not like I’ve never been hiking before. And besides, I wasn’t in the mood to make small talk with a bunch of locals while I waited for you and your girl to exchange promise rings.”
“First,” Sam begins, not rising to the bait, “hunting a wendigo doesn’t count as hiking. Second, and perhaps more importantly, leisurely walks in the woods don’t usually result in hickeys like that,” he finishes, punctuating the word with a poke to Dean’s neck. He curses silently, considers his options, and then plasters on a smile.
“Looks like you caught me, little brother. At least one of us is getting some action, right?” He winks and elbows Sam in the ribs, getting a quick scowl for his trouble.
“Whatever, Dean. Just remember that he doesn’t really love you. Boys will say anything to get what they want,” Sam replies with his most earnest face.
“Ha, ha,” Dean grumbles. “I’m hungry. Let’s find me some pie, bitch.” And just like that, the subject is dropped. He breathes a quiet sigh of relief.
---
No matter how many times he runs over the facts in his head, he can’t make them line up. Yeah, Mystic Falls has a semi-documented history of vampire problems. And yeah, Damon Salvatore had been acting decidedly... bitey. But the guy didn’t fit the profile of any vampire Dean had ever seen. For one, he didn’t seem too interested in tearing out Dean’s throat. Also, unless Dean was just deep into denial, the guy had definitely put some kind of mind whammy on him. And finally, all of this shit just went down in broad daylight. All of that kind of put paid to the vampire idea.
The guy’s speed and strength, though, definitely pointed to something supernatural. Also his face, because no normal human dude is that hot. Dean should have suspected something was up right off the bat.
He’s lying in bed, running over the situation again and again as he waits for Sam to fall asleep. He’d taken a few minutes to look up where the guy lives (the Salvatore Boarding House, if you can believe that), and he’s nearly twitching with the urge to go and figure out what’s going on. It’s purely an investigative thing. Professional curiosity. He very determinedly does not think about the horrible case of blue balls this guy’s giving him.
After a while, Sam’s breathing evens out to the patterns Dean recognizes as a deep sleep. He waits another fifteen minutes just to be safe before getting up, sliding his gun into his waistband and quietly creeping out of the room. He walks around the corner to where the Impala is parked, rummages around the trunk for a minute, and then climbs behind the wheel, setting off to find Damon.
The drive isn’t a long one, but the Salvatore house is semi-isolated and, Dean realizes as it comes into view, seriously enormous. If this guy is a vampire, he’s got seriously nice digs. Usually the vamps he comes across are squatting in smelly abandoned buildings.
He pulls up close to the house, taking a moment to grab a large knife from the seat next to him and slide it under his jacket. He takes a deep breath, and then another, before getting out of the car and walking toward the front door. Any hope he had of catching Damon off guard is dashed as he looks up at the open door to see the man lounging casually against the frame.
“It’s kind of late, you know. Oh,” he says gleefully, his eyes growing wide, “is this a booty call?”
Dean rolls his eyes as he walks up to the other man.
“Let’s just say I’m tired of getting interrupted before we get to the good stuff,” he says gruffly, sliding a hand onto Damon’s hip.
“Wait, what we were doing earlier wasn’t ‘good stuff’? Looks like I’m going to have to step up my game,” he says, grabbing Dean’s wrist and tugging him into the house before shutting the door behind them.
Dean looks around the huge entryway, and lets out a low whistle. “You live in this place all by yourself?”
“My brother lives here too. He’s off on some romantic weekend with his girlfriend, blah blah blah. The upshot is,” he steps up behind Dean and noses behind his ear, “you can make all the noise you like.”
Dean shivers and takes a step away before turning around.
“Brother?” he asks dumbly, starting to wonder about his whole vampire theory. He feels a little dizzy, and he looks up to see Damon’s eyes boring into him. Oh, shit. This is definitely a mind whammy, but damn. The guy looks hungry, and he can’t bring himself to move away when Damon steps into his space again.
“Why don’t you take off your coat? Get comfortable,” Damon murmurs, pushing Dean’s jacket from his shoulders.
“Wait, hang on,” he says, halfheartedly trying to stop him. It’s too late, though. Damon is eyeing the knife that’s very conspicuously tucked into the waistband of his jeans. His hand snakes quickly around Dean’s back, and before Dean can register what’s happening, Damon is standing in front of him holding his knife and his gun. This is... not good. He chances a look at Damon, and blinks a few times in surprise, because the guy is grinning. He stumbles backward, feeling fuzzy and unsure of himself.
“Dean, Dean. I wish you wouldn’t insult my intelligence. I had you pegged for a hunter the first time I saw you, you know.” He disappears for a moment, moving unbelievably quickly, before reappearing in front of Dean empty-handed. “There we go. Didn’t want to risk somebody getting hurt. It’s not safe to just leave weapons lying around.”
“Fuck you, man. My brother knows where I am, so if you kill me I swear to God he’ll find you and take your goddamn head off.” Dean’s words sounds unconvincing, even to his own ears.
Damon laughs, a deep chuckle that makes Dean’s traitorous dick harden in his jeans.
“Why would I do that? I thought I’d made it clear what I wanted from you. I have no desire to bring more hunters here. If I kill you, I know that will happen. But something tells me that if I let you go? You won’t say a word,” he whispers.
Dean just stares as Damon steps forward and undoes Dean’s belt, pressing the heel of his hand into the bulge there. Dean’s hips twitch forward, and he lets out an embarrassing whimper.
“Just,” he pants, “stop that. Stop fucking with my head.” He groans as Damon unzips his fly and reaches inside to stroke him slowly. “You know you’ve fucking got me, so just drop the freaky mind control shit.”
He pauses in his movements and gives Dean a long, considering look before smiling at him. Just like that, the fog fades away and everything feels suddenly sharper, more real. Damon swipes his thumb over the head of his cock and Dean’s knees buckle. Damon pushes him backward until he’s pinned against the wall, and fuck, that is still as hot as it was the first time. He surges forward to meet Damon’s lips and moans as the other man fucks his tongue into his mouth. The kiss is harsh, rough, violent, and Dean whines as he pushes into Damon’s hand. He strokes Dean teasingly, sliding his mouth down to bare his teeth against Dean’s neck.
“Will you let me?” he asks quietly, nipping at the skin. “No one’s consented to this in quite a while. It’ll hurt,” he growls out as he tightens his grip on Dean’s cock.
“Do it,” Dean grits out, knowing the idea shouldn’t be such a turn on but growing impossibly harder nonetheless.
At that, Damon pulls his hand back before picking him up and walking him over to the couch. Dean wraps his legs around his waist instinctively, and they both moan at the feeling of their erections suddenly pressed together. Damon lowers him quickly, following his body down until he’s between Dean’s legs, pinning him again. He kisses him, swift and brutal, before pulling back and grinding their hips together slowly.
“Tell me what you want, Dean.”
Dean closes his eyes and tries to slow his breathing. His face is flushed with embarrassment at the thought of asking for this. He just wants Damon to take.
Damon tuts, pulling back slightly. “Sorry, Dean, but it doesn’t work like that. You’re going to tell me what you want. Beg, even. Either way, you’re going to be just as responsible for what happens here as I am.”
“Bastard,” Dean gasps, trying to pull Damon’s body back down to his. Before he can react, his hands are pinned to the couch above his head and Damon’s face is a breath away from his own.
“You’re not wrong,” he says with a smirk. “But that doesn’t change anything. Tell. Me. What. You. Want.”
Dean shuts his eyes again tightly. “Fuck me,” he says, almost too quiet to hear.
“Again,” Damon growls.
Dean opens his eyes and looks into Damon’s icy blue ones, and how could he have ever thought this man was human?
“Fuck me,” he repeats, his voice as steady as he can make it.
It’s as if a switch has flipped. Damon drops down to kiss him again, tearing at Dean’s shirt to get it open. He pushes up at the t-shirt underneath, biting lightly across his chest, before pulling both shirts off of him together. After that, it’s quick work to pull off his jeans, boxers, and boots, and Dean suddenly finds himself naked and exposed while Damon stands above him, raking his gaze over every inch of skin. Dean shivers, and his cock twitches under the scrutiny.
“Please,” he whispers, a flush spreading down across his neck and chest. Damon watches his skin color with keen interest before pulling off his own shirt. He undresses with a slowness that belies his nature, and he doesn’t take his eyes away from Dean. When he’s finally naked as well, Dean drinks in the sight. His body is even better than expected, lightly muscled in a way that doesn’t give away his strength. Damon’s cock is thick and flushed red, and his mouth nearly waters just looking at it. As he looks up at Damon’s face again, the other man smirks. He reaches down and picks up Dean’s discarded jeans, digging into the front pocket and raising an eyebrow as he pulls out a small tube of KY.
“Ah, you bring a gun, a knife, and lube. Prepared for every eventuality, I see. I bet you were a Boy Scout.”
Dean scowls to cover his blush, and he slowly pulls one leg back to expose himself to Damon. The man’s eyes darken, and his face takes on an almost inhuman look for a moment before he drops to his knees in front of Dean.
Dean throws his head back and gasps as Damon swallows him down, bucking up so hard anyone else would have choked. He feels Damon’s finger teasing around his entrance before he slips it inside, thrusting shallowly. As he inserts another, he pauses, pulling his mouth away. Dean pushes downward, desperate for stimulation. Damon pushes his fingers in slowly before sinking his teeth into Dean’s inner thigh.
Dean cries out, clenching around Damon’s fingers. It hurts, fuck does it hurt, but then Damon is drinking from him, Jesus Christ, and he can look down and see the man lapping at his blood. He feels dizzy and painfully aroused, and he forces himself to relax so those fingers can move again. Damon looks up at him, and his face has changed. He looks like a predator, and Dean can't do anything but groan.
Quicker than he can comprehend, Damon has pulled him up and turned him over so that he’s bent over the arm of the couch. Dean pushes his ass in the air, wishing he could blame vampire mind-control for the way he’s acting like a bitch in heat. He hears Damon growl behind him before his fingers dig into Dean’s hips and then he’s pushing inside. Dean buries his face in the cushion and cries out, somewhere between pain and pleasure that he can’t identify. Damon stops, only halfway in, and Dean isn’t having that. He pushes up onto his hands and shoves his hips backward, taking him in the rest of the way with a low grunt.
Damon grips him by the back of the neck then and shoves his face back down before pulling out and thrusting back in, and Dean feels helpless as the other man takes him again and again. He’s moaning and panting as he tries to push backward, held in place by Damon’s hand. He can feel his orgasm building and reaches for his cock, but Damon swiftly moves to pin both of his wrists behind his back.
As the man’s thrusts become rougher and more erratic, the hand on his neck slides up into his hair and pulls his head up. His back bows toward Damon as the man drops his open mouth to Dean’s throat. It feels as if the world hangs for a moment, Dean teetering on the edge, and he desperately whimpers, “Please.”
And then sharp teeth are sinking into him, and Dean is whiting out with release and euphoria as he feels his blood flowing into Damon’s mouth.
---
When he wakes up, he’s in a bed that can only be described as ostentatious. Well, it can also be described as “really fucking comfortable,” so he stretches under the heavy comforter. The movement brings a sudden reminder of exactly where he is, as he feels the ache between his legs and the twinge in his neck.
Way to go, Winchester. Fucking a vampire. Excellent decision-making.
Dean stumbles out of the bed and into the attached bathroom, where he splashes water on his face in an attempt to wake up. Looking in the mirror, he assesses the damage, and is relieved to find that the bite on his neck, as well as the huge accompanying bruise, are low enough to be covered by a collared shirt. He walks back into the bedroom, where he finds his clothes laid over a chair in the corner. He pulls them on quickly, and he’s surprised to spot his gun and knife on the side table. Once he’s got his boots laced up and his weapons tucked away, he opens the door and heads out into the hallway.
There’s a moment where he wonders how the hell he’s supposed to find his way out of here, but then Damon’s in front of him, leaning casually against the wall.
“Oh, good,” he says drily as he looks at Dean. “You’re alive.”
“Was there ever any doubt?” Dean asks slowly, impressed by how calm he sounds.
“I don’t know,” Damon replies with a sharp grin. “I made you come so hard I thought you went into a coma.”
Dean glares at him, and Damon laughs.
“So what’s with the...” he gestures vaguely behind himself at the bed where he’d woken up.
“Well, my brother is supposed to come back today, and his girlfriend is kind of uptight. I didn’t think she’d take too well to finding a naked, unconscious stranger on the sofa covered in blood and semen. You know how women can be.”
Dean barks a laugh, shaking his head. “So. Your brother. Is he... I mean, how do you..” he trails off again.
They look at each other for a long moment before Dean laughs again.
“You know what, I’ll be honest. I really don’t even want to know.”
“A wise decision,” Damon responds sagely, walking away down the hall. He pauses, waiting for Dean to follow. “You start pulling at that thread and you’re bound to find out things you'd rather not know about.”
They reach the front door, and Dean opens it. Damon catches it with his hand and drags Dean in for a rough kiss.
“I’ve got to tell you, hunter, you’re more fun than I was expecting.”
“Yeah, well. I’ll be keeping an eye on this place now. So don’t fuck up.”
Damon laughs and dons an innocent, wide-eyed expression. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Dean shoves the door open and walks outside. “Fucking vampires,” he mutters, but he's smiling, just a little bit.
---
Sam is awake when Dean comes back into the hotel room, but he just gives him an irritating, knowing smile before disappearing into the bathroom to brush his teeth. They pack up the Impala after Bobby calls about a haunting just outside Baltimore. Dean figures they can easily make it there by late afternoon. They stop off for a quick breakfast, and Doreen tells them to drive safe as she drops off their check.
“Sorry your summer non-romance didn’t work out, Sammy,” Dean remarks as they pull onto the road out of town. “I can tell you were thinking about giving her your precious flower.”
Sam’s face twists in disapproval before he rolls his eyes and pulls out some Latin text he’d picked up a while back. “Who says it didn’t work out? We exchanged emails, and apparently I’m supposed to friend her on Facebook.”
Dean looks at him for a long moment before laughing and turning his attention back to the road. By the time they work their way back to Interstate 95, Sam is engrossed in his book, so Dean lets his thoughts drift for a minute. He really hopes that his judgment was sound, and he doesn’t end up having a reason to come back to Mystic Falls. Then again, they might stop by anyway, if they’re in the area. It never hurts to be thorough.
Author: discreetmath
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: Supernatural/The Vampire Diaries
Pairing: Dean Winchester/Damon Salvatore
Spoilers: Vague spoilers for season 4 of SPN and season 2 of TVD
Warnings: Explicit sex, mild dub-con, light bloodplay
Word Count: 7000
Summary: During a lag between hunts, Dean and Sam stop off for a weekend in Mystic Falls, Virginia. Sam’s just looking to enjoy the downtime, but when Dean meets a hot, enigmatic stranger, he might be in over his head.
A/N: Betaed by the awesome haughtymelodic. Title from "Devil" by Ida Maria.
Disclaimer: Characters and anything else recognizable do not belong to me. I'm just borrowing them.
Trees pass quickly outside the windows as the Impala rumbles up a nondescript country road. They’re half a day and five hundred miles outside of Macon, Georgia, where they’d spent nearly a week researching an especially unpleasant poltergeist. They had finally gotten the thing salted and burned in the early hours of the morning and grabbed a few hours of sleep before hitting the road.
Dean is already feeling anxious to move on to the next job. Bobby had said he’d call when he found a new case, but Dean’s phone remains stubbornly silent. He and Sam are working their way up the east coast in the meantime, following the roads of rural Virginia without any real direction.
“Hey, look,” Sam says, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between them. “We could stop off there for the night.”
Dean glances at the sign that Sam’s indicating. “Historic Mystic Falls,” he intones, before rolling his eyes. “Not really our sort of town, Sammy.”
“Come on, Dean,” Sam sighs. “It’s not like we have anywhere pressing to be. I don’t know about you, but I, for one, would like the chance to stay somewhere where ‘truck-stop adjacent’ isn’t the only selling point.”
“Yeah, well, quaint bed-and-breakfast isn’t really in our price range.” Dean huffs while glancing over at Sam. As expected, his jaw is set and is face is showing the early signs of pouting. He wavers for a few minutes, clinging to the delusion that he could really say no to a determined Sam.
“Fine,” he mutters, flipping on his blinker as they approach the next exit. “But if we wind up anywhere with doilies, so help me, I will end you.”
---
The place they end up staying is actually pretty inoffensive. It’s a quiet inn on a quiet street, but there are no lace curtains or little old lady proprietors in sight. They got checked in quickly, didn’t get a single skeptical look when they requested a room with two doubles, and the shower has awesome water pressure. Maybe this place isn’t so bad after all.
Dean’s changed into fresh clothes and is reclining on his bed watching a Dr. Sexy MD rerun by the time Sam gets done with his shower. He sits up and plants his booted feet on the floor as Sam hunts through his bag.
“All right, Sammy. You wanted to stay in classy digs like this, so you gotta help pay the rent. There’s gotta be a decent bar in this town. God knows if I had to live here I’d need somewhere reliable to get a drink.”
Of course, Sam has already been leafing through a booklet of local attractions, the giant dork. “We could try Mystic Grill,” he suggests, pulling on a shirt. “There doesn’t exactly seem to be a wealth of options.”
“Good enough for me. Let’s see if we can’t find some action,” Dean says, walking to the door impatiently as Sam laces up his boots. Sam rolls his eyes and follows, and they head out into the peaceful small-town night.
----
“I gotta hand it to you, Sam. This place... does not suck.” Dean is looking around at what seems to be part bar, part family restaurant, though at this time of night he’s not seeing any families around. What he does see are a truly impressive number of attractive women, and more than a few douchey-looking rich kids playing pool.
“I’m pretty sure half of these girls are jailbait, Dean,” Sam mutters, apparently following and disapproving of Dean’s line of thought.
“Whatever, Sammy, don’t you rain on my parade.” Dean gives him a wide grin and a wink before working his way across to the bar, where he orders a beer and sits back to scope out the pool tables. It doesn’t take long before he spots a tall, dark-haired kid who looks to be made of money and, more importantly, in the early stages of getting good and drunk. He sidles over, plasters on his best innocent smile, and clears his throat.
“You feel like playing a game?” he asks, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. The kid gives him a measured look before nodding and gesturing to the rack of cues. Over the next two hours, he learns that the kid’s name is Tyler, his family has so much money it should be illegal, and he’s pretty easy to con given a little bit of time and a fair amount of Bud Light.
He glances back to check on Sam a few times, and finds him at the bar talking to a smoking hot blonde in a tiny blue dress. And he had the nerve to warn Dean about jailbait. Whatever, if Sammy manages to get laid, he’s sure even the authorities would recognize the extraordinary circumstances and look the other way.
After he’s made a few hundred dollars, Dean starts to recognize the signs of a disgruntled mark. Tyler is starting to look less easygoing and more pissed off, so he decides to make this his last game and misses a few easy shots to let the kid win a couple bucks back. It seems to alleviate his anger a bit, and Dean buys him a beer before patting him on the back and turning to go get Sam and head back to the hotel.
His plans are quickly interrupted when he runs into a guy who was apparently hovering right behind him. Jesus Christ, was Cas teaching Lurking for Beginners now?
“Hey, man, do you mind?” he says roughly, glancing up at the guy. And... damn, he is seriously hot. Not that Dean’s into dudes or anything as a rule, but exceptions can be -- and have been -- made. The stranger, who Dean’s brain has traitorously dubbed “insanely hot guy,” gives Dean an appraising look, his eyes drifting down his body in a way that would make a lesser man blush. Dean is definitely not blushing. Goddamn fair complexion.
“No,” the man says, his voice quietly amused. Had Dean asked a question? It’s suddenly hard to remember, and he’s embarrassed at how obviously flustered he must look.
“No, I don’t mind,” the guy clarifies, dragging his eyes back up to meet Dean’s, and fuck, does this guy have gorgeous eyes. Light blue and piercing, and when did Dean turn into a teenage girl? He takes a slow breath, determined to regain control of this situation. He spends a moment trying to compose himself, but the stranger speaks again before he can come up with a decent line.
“I’ve just been watching you play with Lockwood over there, and I figured I’d better keep an eye on things before you hustled him right out of his lunch money.”
Shit, Dean thinks. “Friend of yours?” he asks, his tone nonchalant.
“Friend of a friend. Well, maybe more like friend of an acquaintance.” He waffles his hand in the air. “But where are my manners?” He places a hand on his own chest and bows slightly. “I’m Damon Salvatore. And you aren’t from around here,” he adds as his eyes rake over Dean again.
“Dean Winchester. And no, I’m just passing through with my brother over there. We travel a lot for work.” He gestures to the bar, where he can see Sam and hot blonde chick still talking, shooting occasional glances back over at Dean.
“Sounds fascinating,” Damon murmurs distractedly, eyes widening a bit as he steps in toward Dean. Man, this guy is kind of a dick. Fortunately, he seems to be into that sort of thing at the moment.
“So, Dean...” Damon begins, leaning in closer. Dean shivers minutely at the way the man manages to make his name sound like something dirty. Whatever Damon was going to say, though, he doesn’t get to hear it as his brother appears at his shoulder.
“Hey, Dean, you ready to get out of here?” Sam asks, tugging on his arm like... well, like an annoying little brother.
“Nah, Sammy, you can go on, I’ll be back a little while later,” Dean replies, his tone strained but affable.
“You have the car though. I need you to drive me back.”
Dean curses silently. They had walked to the bar, so if Sam was making up some bullshit story about the car then he probably had good reason for wanting to get Dean out of here. Either that or his cockblocking skills were nearing Machiavellian levels.
“Shit, okay, yeah.” Dean turns to Damon. “Hey man, it was good to meet you, but I gotta get going.”
“Sure, no problem,” Damon responds, a hint of disappointment passing over his face before he replaces it with a smirk. “You boys have fun,” he leers, before winking at Dean and turning to walk toward the bar.
“Goddamnit, Sammy, this had better be good,” Dean growls, before pulling his brother out the door.
----
“So you’re telling me you dragged me out of there because some blonde high school chick-”
“Caroline,” Sam interrupts, scowling at Dean.
“Sorry, Caroline told you Damon was bad news? What is this, junior prom? I think you need to spend a little more time focused on your own hookups and less time worrying about mine.”
Sam’s brow furrows. “First of all, we were just talking. I think she’s dating someone. You know him actually, you were hustling him all night.” Dean rolls his eyes. “Second of all... I wasn’t exactly sure what was going on. I didn’t know that you were into that sort of thing.”
Dean opens his mouth to argue, but Sam presses on.
“It’s totally cool, man, I support you one hundred percent. Whatever makes you happy is fine with me.”
“Okay, hold it right there,” Dean cuts in, standing up from the bed. “Before you even start, I’m not gay. I’m not,” he repeats, speaking over Sam’s protests. “I’m just... open-minded. Equal opportunity. So even if it were your business, which I should point out it is totally fucking not, you’ve got the completely wrong idea. So don’t send off for your rainbow sticker just yet, you big girl.”
Sam’s mouth opens and closes a few times, before he raises an eyebrow. “Just let me know if you ever feel confused and want to talk,” he says, with a level of sincerity belied by way the corner of his mouth twitches up.
“Oh, fuck you, Sammy,” Dean retorts, but there’s no real heat in it. He heads into the bathroom to wash up for the night before coming back out and flopping onto his bed. He can hear Sam thinking, so he shoots him one last silencing glare before rolling over to go to sleep.
If he’s thinking about blue eyes, a smooth voice, and a smirking mouth, well. That’s nobody else’s business.
----
The next morning, the sounds of his brother moving around the room slowly haul Dean back to consciousness. He stretches, silently thanking Sam for finding what had to be the most comfortable bed he’s ever slept in.
“Oh, good! You’re up,” Sam said excitedly. “I was thinking we could walk around today, check out the town. The brochure says it dates back to the Civil War, so there’s bound to be some cool stuff to see.”
Dean cracks one eye open and fixes a glare at Sam. “Easy there, Sasquatch. You want to go antiquing, you’d better at least buy a girl some pancakes first.”
A few minutes later, Dean has dragged himself into some jeans and a tee shirt that’s only slightly wrinkled, and they’re headed out the door again. They walk down the street toward where they’d seen most of the town’s businesses last night. It’s Saturday morning, so there are plenty of people out, doing whatever it is that people in small towns do. It’s all very picturesque in that way that’s only ever managed to give Dean the creeps.
While they walk, Sam chatters excitedly about some Civil War battle that supposedly took place nearby. It actually sounds sort of cool, and Dean figures an old battlefield can’t be too lame, as historical monuments go. Maybe it’ll be haunted.
They wind up finding a diner that’s a bit fancier than their usual places, but it’s got strong coffee and real maple syrup so Dean counts it as a win. The waitress, Doreen, is probably in her mid-forties, with a wide, friendly smile.
“You two visiting from out of town?” she asks, after she takes down their order.
“Are we that obvious?” Sam replies. “Yeah, we were passing through the area and thought this looked like a nice place to spend the weekend.”
“In a town this size, when you’ve lived here as long as I have, you can spot a newcomer a mile away,” she laughs. “We’re always glad to have visitors, of course,” she adds, glancing between them with an appreciative gleam in her eyes. “What are you getting up to today?”
“Well,” Sam says quickly, “my brother here is a huge Civil War buff. We heard there was a battle near here, is that true?”
Dean shoots a murderous look his way before smiling up at the waitress expectantly.
“Oh, you came to the right spot, then!” she replies, shifting her focus onto Dean. “There was a battle at Willow Creek near the end of the war. Very big deal. This town takes its history very seriously,” she says, before lowering her voice a bit. “Of course, that was around the same time the founding families got rid of the vampires, so sometimes people get more excited over that bit,” she adds with a wink.
Dean and Sam exchange a quick look.
“Vampires?” Dean asks, injecting as much disbelief into his tone as he can.
“Oh, I know, I know. It’s silly, and it’s not exactly in the official histories. But like I said, this is a small town, and we all have our local legends.”
Sam smiles and nods politely, and they’re saved from saying more when a couple enters the diner and the waitress hurries over to help them.
They immediately lean toward each other over the table, lowering their voices.
“Vampires, really?” Dean says, sounding skeptical.
“Even if that story is true, apparently they’re gone. I feel like we would have heard something if people were getting killed in a town this small.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right. Still couldn’t hurt to do a little research.”
“You want to do research? Are you feeling feverish?” Sam asks in mock surprise.
“Hey! I do research! I’m awesome at research. I just like to let you feel useful once in a while.”
Sam rolls his eyes in exasperation, but he’s smiling.
“I guess we’re heading to the library, then.”
-----
After they’ve finished breakfast and left a nice tip for Doreen, Sam and Dean are back on the street. Sam has pulled out his Mystic Falls brochure again and is trying to locate the library on the small map when Dean spots a familiar head of blonde hair.
“Hey, Sammy, isn’t that your girl from the bar last night?”
Sam glances up just as she spots them, and he waves a greeting as she crosses the street to where they’re standing.
“Caroline, hey!” he says, grinning. “This is my brother, Dean. I don’t think you met last night.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Dean,” she says, shaking his hand. “And no, we haven’t met. I think you were a little preoccupied at the time,” she adds with a knowing smile.
“Nice to meet you too,” he says, pointedly ignoring her comment. He’d been trying to forget about that. Well, sort of.
“So, do you guys have any big plans today?” Caroline asks. “Because if you don’t, there’s a town picnic thing going on in a little bit at the park, and I thought you might like to come.”
Dean glances at Sam, who appears to be nodding in agreement.
“Hey, we’d love to, but Sam and I actually have a thing we were going to do today.”
Sam looks at him, disappointment evident in his eyes, before shrugging. “Yeah, we actually have plans already,” he tells her with an apologetic smile.
Dean looks between them for a minute before rolling his eyes dramatically.
“I guess I don’t really need you for that thing, Sammy, if you want to go ahead and go. Just don’t pick him if there’s a three-legged race or anything,” he adds as an aside to Caroline. “His freaky giant legs will just mess you up.”
Caroline laughs as Sam looks at Dean uncertainly.
“You sure, man? And you’re sure you don’t want to just come with?”
“Tell you what, you guys hang out, I’ll go get a couple things taken care of, and then I’ll meet you there later.”
Sam smiles and nods his head. “Sounds good. Call me if you need me for anything, okay?” he adds as Caroline grabs his hand and pulls him down the sidewalk with a last wave at Dean. The last thing he hears before they turn the corner is Caroline asking Sam if he’s ever had a mani-pedi. He chuckles to himself, filing that away for later, before setting himself to the task of finding the library.
-----
The Mystic Falls library is in a decently sized building just off the town’s main street. It was pretty empty when Dean got there, and it hadn’t taken him long to find the section on local history and the old newspapers on microfilm. He searches the papers for the typical stuff: unusual deaths, suspicious-sounding animal attacks, and all that. Nothing really jumps out, so he turns his attention to the small stack of books he’s pulled from the shelves.
It’s mostly boring, dry town histories, but there’s some local lore mixed in. After an hour or two of reading Dean has learned a few interesting things. Apparently the town’s church had burned down around the same time as that Civil War battle. There’s not much factual evidence to support the story, but one book indicates that the fire was set by the town’s founding families in order to destroy the (apparently considerable) vampire population.
The other interesting thing is that a name stands out in the list of families. It only takes Dean a minute to place the name “Salvatore” as belonging to the guy from the night before. So he’s apparently old money or something - that explains the smugness. Since there’s no real record of anything resembling vampire activity in the town after the fire, Dean decides to call his curiosity satisfied. He stuffs the books back onto their shelves and leaves the library quickly. Much more time there and he’s bound to spontaneously transform into Sam or something.
A quick text confirms that Sam is already with Caroline at the park, so Dean heads off in that direction, determined to stop trying to turn this little vacation into a hunt. It’s just for a few days; if Sam can have fun, then so can he.
---
When Dean gets to the park, it’s late afternoon and it looks like the whole town is there. He quickly spots a table piled with food and makes his way over there, smiling and nodding to at least a dozen people on his way. Small towns, man. He grabs a can of Coke from one of the coolers next to the tables and turns to watch the crowd. After a few minutes, he sees Sam talking to Caroline and a few other people, some high school kids and some looking a bit older. Caroline is talking animatedly about something, and Sam is clutching his stomach laughing. Dean figures he’ll wait a few minutes before he heads over and lets everybody meet the good-looking brother.
“Looks like he’s having fun,” says a low voice right in his ear, and Dean very determinedly does not jump at that. He turns to see Damon standing behind him, looking hot again in a snug black v-neck and jeans. Dean looks him up and down slowly, and feels a bit cheated when Damon doesn’t even look embarrassed.
“Yeah, I think he’s trying out the ‘gay best friend’ thing,” Dean replies, chuckling. “If it were me I’d have already sealed that deal.”
Damon looks amused. He steps closer, leans in, and asks “Is that a fact?” before turning and walking away toward the wooded area of the park. No, not walking. Sauntering. The bastard. Dean waits for a minute or two, watching the crowd, before turning and casually walking in the direction that Damon had gone. He knows it’s probably dumb, he does, but it’s like a compulsion to follow the guy and see where things will lead.
He clears the tree line and moves out of sight of the people in the park, and then he looks around for Damon. He doesn’t see him, so he continues to walk, listening for a sign of where the other man might have gone. Suddenly, Damon is right there, pushing Dean back into a tree. As the bark scrapes his back, he only has a moment to wonder where he’d come from before a hot mouth is on his. He gasps in surprise, and Damon takes the opportunity to lick into his mouth, pressing his body flush against Dean’s.
He can’t remember the last time he’d felt a rush like this; there’s definitely something to be said for a partner who can overpower you, and Dean’s jeans are already painfully tight. He feels almost adrift as they kiss, Damon nipping roughly at his lip before plunging his tongue into Dean’s mouth again. Dean’s body feels loose, pliant, and his legs fall apart so that Damon can slot his body between them. He shakes his head once, trying to clear the fog of arousal, but his hips buck forward helplessly as Damon mouths along his jaw before biting lightly at his neck.
A sharp pain registers as Damon’s teeth nick his skin, but it’s quickly pushed down by the fog that’s clouding his mind. On some distant level, Dean knows that something is wrong, but he’s already so far gone in his arousal that he can’t bring himself to care. He closes his eyes and tips his head back, baring his throat to Damon. The other man growls into his neck, parting his lips, and Dean presses forward desperately, wanting, needing--
“Dean! Hey man, where are you?” Sam’s voice cuts through the woods and Dean sobers instantly. He opens his eyes, but Damon is gone. Only his painful erection remains as evidence of what had just happened.
“Shit,” he whispers. “Shit.” Then, louder, “I’m over here, Sammy. Hang on, I’m coming to you.” He adjusts himself in his pants, wipes the blood from the small cut on his neck, and takes a deep breath before heading back out of the woods.
---
“So you just felt like taking a walk in the woods?” Sam asks, disbelief evident in his voice as they make their way back to the hotel. He’d apparently seen Dean just before he’d stepped out of sight and had assumed something was wrong.
“Yeah, why is that so hard to believe? It’s not like I’ve never been hiking before. And besides, I wasn’t in the mood to make small talk with a bunch of locals while I waited for you and your girl to exchange promise rings.”
“First,” Sam begins, not rising to the bait, “hunting a wendigo doesn’t count as hiking. Second, and perhaps more importantly, leisurely walks in the woods don’t usually result in hickeys like that,” he finishes, punctuating the word with a poke to Dean’s neck. He curses silently, considers his options, and then plasters on a smile.
“Looks like you caught me, little brother. At least one of us is getting some action, right?” He winks and elbows Sam in the ribs, getting a quick scowl for his trouble.
“Whatever, Dean. Just remember that he doesn’t really love you. Boys will say anything to get what they want,” Sam replies with his most earnest face.
“Ha, ha,” Dean grumbles. “I’m hungry. Let’s find me some pie, bitch.” And just like that, the subject is dropped. He breathes a quiet sigh of relief.
---
No matter how many times he runs over the facts in his head, he can’t make them line up. Yeah, Mystic Falls has a semi-documented history of vampire problems. And yeah, Damon Salvatore had been acting decidedly... bitey. But the guy didn’t fit the profile of any vampire Dean had ever seen. For one, he didn’t seem too interested in tearing out Dean’s throat. Also, unless Dean was just deep into denial, the guy had definitely put some kind of mind whammy on him. And finally, all of this shit just went down in broad daylight. All of that kind of put paid to the vampire idea.
The guy’s speed and strength, though, definitely pointed to something supernatural. Also his face, because no normal human dude is that hot. Dean should have suspected something was up right off the bat.
He’s lying in bed, running over the situation again and again as he waits for Sam to fall asleep. He’d taken a few minutes to look up where the guy lives (the Salvatore Boarding House, if you can believe that), and he’s nearly twitching with the urge to go and figure out what’s going on. It’s purely an investigative thing. Professional curiosity. He very determinedly does not think about the horrible case of blue balls this guy’s giving him.
After a while, Sam’s breathing evens out to the patterns Dean recognizes as a deep sleep. He waits another fifteen minutes just to be safe before getting up, sliding his gun into his waistband and quietly creeping out of the room. He walks around the corner to where the Impala is parked, rummages around the trunk for a minute, and then climbs behind the wheel, setting off to find Damon.
The drive isn’t a long one, but the Salvatore house is semi-isolated and, Dean realizes as it comes into view, seriously enormous. If this guy is a vampire, he’s got seriously nice digs. Usually the vamps he comes across are squatting in smelly abandoned buildings.
He pulls up close to the house, taking a moment to grab a large knife from the seat next to him and slide it under his jacket. He takes a deep breath, and then another, before getting out of the car and walking toward the front door. Any hope he had of catching Damon off guard is dashed as he looks up at the open door to see the man lounging casually against the frame.
“It’s kind of late, you know. Oh,” he says gleefully, his eyes growing wide, “is this a booty call?”
Dean rolls his eyes as he walks up to the other man.
“Let’s just say I’m tired of getting interrupted before we get to the good stuff,” he says gruffly, sliding a hand onto Damon’s hip.
“Wait, what we were doing earlier wasn’t ‘good stuff’? Looks like I’m going to have to step up my game,” he says, grabbing Dean’s wrist and tugging him into the house before shutting the door behind them.
Dean looks around the huge entryway, and lets out a low whistle. “You live in this place all by yourself?”
“My brother lives here too. He’s off on some romantic weekend with his girlfriend, blah blah blah. The upshot is,” he steps up behind Dean and noses behind his ear, “you can make all the noise you like.”
Dean shivers and takes a step away before turning around.
“Brother?” he asks dumbly, starting to wonder about his whole vampire theory. He feels a little dizzy, and he looks up to see Damon’s eyes boring into him. Oh, shit. This is definitely a mind whammy, but damn. The guy looks hungry, and he can’t bring himself to move away when Damon steps into his space again.
“Why don’t you take off your coat? Get comfortable,” Damon murmurs, pushing Dean’s jacket from his shoulders.
“Wait, hang on,” he says, halfheartedly trying to stop him. It’s too late, though. Damon is eyeing the knife that’s very conspicuously tucked into the waistband of his jeans. His hand snakes quickly around Dean’s back, and before Dean can register what’s happening, Damon is standing in front of him holding his knife and his gun. This is... not good. He chances a look at Damon, and blinks a few times in surprise, because the guy is grinning. He stumbles backward, feeling fuzzy and unsure of himself.
“Dean, Dean. I wish you wouldn’t insult my intelligence. I had you pegged for a hunter the first time I saw you, you know.” He disappears for a moment, moving unbelievably quickly, before reappearing in front of Dean empty-handed. “There we go. Didn’t want to risk somebody getting hurt. It’s not safe to just leave weapons lying around.”
“Fuck you, man. My brother knows where I am, so if you kill me I swear to God he’ll find you and take your goddamn head off.” Dean’s words sounds unconvincing, even to his own ears.
Damon laughs, a deep chuckle that makes Dean’s traitorous dick harden in his jeans.
“Why would I do that? I thought I’d made it clear what I wanted from you. I have no desire to bring more hunters here. If I kill you, I know that will happen. But something tells me that if I let you go? You won’t say a word,” he whispers.
Dean just stares as Damon steps forward and undoes Dean’s belt, pressing the heel of his hand into the bulge there. Dean’s hips twitch forward, and he lets out an embarrassing whimper.
“Just,” he pants, “stop that. Stop fucking with my head.” He groans as Damon unzips his fly and reaches inside to stroke him slowly. “You know you’ve fucking got me, so just drop the freaky mind control shit.”
He pauses in his movements and gives Dean a long, considering look before smiling at him. Just like that, the fog fades away and everything feels suddenly sharper, more real. Damon swipes his thumb over the head of his cock and Dean’s knees buckle. Damon pushes him backward until he’s pinned against the wall, and fuck, that is still as hot as it was the first time. He surges forward to meet Damon’s lips and moans as the other man fucks his tongue into his mouth. The kiss is harsh, rough, violent, and Dean whines as he pushes into Damon’s hand. He strokes Dean teasingly, sliding his mouth down to bare his teeth against Dean’s neck.
“Will you let me?” he asks quietly, nipping at the skin. “No one’s consented to this in quite a while. It’ll hurt,” he growls out as he tightens his grip on Dean’s cock.
“Do it,” Dean grits out, knowing the idea shouldn’t be such a turn on but growing impossibly harder nonetheless.
At that, Damon pulls his hand back before picking him up and walking him over to the couch. Dean wraps his legs around his waist instinctively, and they both moan at the feeling of their erections suddenly pressed together. Damon lowers him quickly, following his body down until he’s between Dean’s legs, pinning him again. He kisses him, swift and brutal, before pulling back and grinding their hips together slowly.
“Tell me what you want, Dean.”
Dean closes his eyes and tries to slow his breathing. His face is flushed with embarrassment at the thought of asking for this. He just wants Damon to take.
Damon tuts, pulling back slightly. “Sorry, Dean, but it doesn’t work like that. You’re going to tell me what you want. Beg, even. Either way, you’re going to be just as responsible for what happens here as I am.”
“Bastard,” Dean gasps, trying to pull Damon’s body back down to his. Before he can react, his hands are pinned to the couch above his head and Damon’s face is a breath away from his own.
“You’re not wrong,” he says with a smirk. “But that doesn’t change anything. Tell. Me. What. You. Want.”
Dean shuts his eyes again tightly. “Fuck me,” he says, almost too quiet to hear.
“Again,” Damon growls.
Dean opens his eyes and looks into Damon’s icy blue ones, and how could he have ever thought this man was human?
“Fuck me,” he repeats, his voice as steady as he can make it.
It’s as if a switch has flipped. Damon drops down to kiss him again, tearing at Dean’s shirt to get it open. He pushes up at the t-shirt underneath, biting lightly across his chest, before pulling both shirts off of him together. After that, it’s quick work to pull off his jeans, boxers, and boots, and Dean suddenly finds himself naked and exposed while Damon stands above him, raking his gaze over every inch of skin. Dean shivers, and his cock twitches under the scrutiny.
“Please,” he whispers, a flush spreading down across his neck and chest. Damon watches his skin color with keen interest before pulling off his own shirt. He undresses with a slowness that belies his nature, and he doesn’t take his eyes away from Dean. When he’s finally naked as well, Dean drinks in the sight. His body is even better than expected, lightly muscled in a way that doesn’t give away his strength. Damon’s cock is thick and flushed red, and his mouth nearly waters just looking at it. As he looks up at Damon’s face again, the other man smirks. He reaches down and picks up Dean’s discarded jeans, digging into the front pocket and raising an eyebrow as he pulls out a small tube of KY.
“Ah, you bring a gun, a knife, and lube. Prepared for every eventuality, I see. I bet you were a Boy Scout.”
Dean scowls to cover his blush, and he slowly pulls one leg back to expose himself to Damon. The man’s eyes darken, and his face takes on an almost inhuman look for a moment before he drops to his knees in front of Dean.
Dean throws his head back and gasps as Damon swallows him down, bucking up so hard anyone else would have choked. He feels Damon’s finger teasing around his entrance before he slips it inside, thrusting shallowly. As he inserts another, he pauses, pulling his mouth away. Dean pushes downward, desperate for stimulation. Damon pushes his fingers in slowly before sinking his teeth into Dean’s inner thigh.
Dean cries out, clenching around Damon’s fingers. It hurts, fuck does it hurt, but then Damon is drinking from him, Jesus Christ, and he can look down and see the man lapping at his blood. He feels dizzy and painfully aroused, and he forces himself to relax so those fingers can move again. Damon looks up at him, and his face has changed. He looks like a predator, and Dean can't do anything but groan.
Quicker than he can comprehend, Damon has pulled him up and turned him over so that he’s bent over the arm of the couch. Dean pushes his ass in the air, wishing he could blame vampire mind-control for the way he’s acting like a bitch in heat. He hears Damon growl behind him before his fingers dig into Dean’s hips and then he’s pushing inside. Dean buries his face in the cushion and cries out, somewhere between pain and pleasure that he can’t identify. Damon stops, only halfway in, and Dean isn’t having that. He pushes up onto his hands and shoves his hips backward, taking him in the rest of the way with a low grunt.
Damon grips him by the back of the neck then and shoves his face back down before pulling out and thrusting back in, and Dean feels helpless as the other man takes him again and again. He’s moaning and panting as he tries to push backward, held in place by Damon’s hand. He can feel his orgasm building and reaches for his cock, but Damon swiftly moves to pin both of his wrists behind his back.
As the man’s thrusts become rougher and more erratic, the hand on his neck slides up into his hair and pulls his head up. His back bows toward Damon as the man drops his open mouth to Dean’s throat. It feels as if the world hangs for a moment, Dean teetering on the edge, and he desperately whimpers, “Please.”
And then sharp teeth are sinking into him, and Dean is whiting out with release and euphoria as he feels his blood flowing into Damon’s mouth.
---
When he wakes up, he’s in a bed that can only be described as ostentatious. Well, it can also be described as “really fucking comfortable,” so he stretches under the heavy comforter. The movement brings a sudden reminder of exactly where he is, as he feels the ache between his legs and the twinge in his neck.
Way to go, Winchester. Fucking a vampire. Excellent decision-making.
Dean stumbles out of the bed and into the attached bathroom, where he splashes water on his face in an attempt to wake up. Looking in the mirror, he assesses the damage, and is relieved to find that the bite on his neck, as well as the huge accompanying bruise, are low enough to be covered by a collared shirt. He walks back into the bedroom, where he finds his clothes laid over a chair in the corner. He pulls them on quickly, and he’s surprised to spot his gun and knife on the side table. Once he’s got his boots laced up and his weapons tucked away, he opens the door and heads out into the hallway.
There’s a moment where he wonders how the hell he’s supposed to find his way out of here, but then Damon’s in front of him, leaning casually against the wall.
“Oh, good,” he says drily as he looks at Dean. “You’re alive.”
“Was there ever any doubt?” Dean asks slowly, impressed by how calm he sounds.
“I don’t know,” Damon replies with a sharp grin. “I made you come so hard I thought you went into a coma.”
Dean glares at him, and Damon laughs.
“So what’s with the...” he gestures vaguely behind himself at the bed where he’d woken up.
“Well, my brother is supposed to come back today, and his girlfriend is kind of uptight. I didn’t think she’d take too well to finding a naked, unconscious stranger on the sofa covered in blood and semen. You know how women can be.”
Dean barks a laugh, shaking his head. “So. Your brother. Is he... I mean, how do you..” he trails off again.
They look at each other for a long moment before Dean laughs again.
“You know what, I’ll be honest. I really don’t even want to know.”
“A wise decision,” Damon responds sagely, walking away down the hall. He pauses, waiting for Dean to follow. “You start pulling at that thread and you’re bound to find out things you'd rather not know about.”
They reach the front door, and Dean opens it. Damon catches it with his hand and drags Dean in for a rough kiss.
“I’ve got to tell you, hunter, you’re more fun than I was expecting.”
“Yeah, well. I’ll be keeping an eye on this place now. So don’t fuck up.”
Damon laughs and dons an innocent, wide-eyed expression. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Dean shoves the door open and walks outside. “Fucking vampires,” he mutters, but he's smiling, just a little bit.
---
Sam is awake when Dean comes back into the hotel room, but he just gives him an irritating, knowing smile before disappearing into the bathroom to brush his teeth. They pack up the Impala after Bobby calls about a haunting just outside Baltimore. Dean figures they can easily make it there by late afternoon. They stop off for a quick breakfast, and Doreen tells them to drive safe as she drops off their check.
“Sorry your summer non-romance didn’t work out, Sammy,” Dean remarks as they pull onto the road out of town. “I can tell you were thinking about giving her your precious flower.”
Sam’s face twists in disapproval before he rolls his eyes and pulls out some Latin text he’d picked up a while back. “Who says it didn’t work out? We exchanged emails, and apparently I’m supposed to friend her on Facebook.”
Dean looks at him for a long moment before laughing and turning his attention back to the road. By the time they work their way back to Interstate 95, Sam is engrossed in his book, so Dean lets his thoughts drift for a minute. He really hopes that his judgment was sound, and he doesn’t end up having a reason to come back to Mystic Falls. Then again, they might stop by anyway, if they’re in the area. It never hurts to be thorough.