SPN, Vampire Dean for mkitty3
Yesterday, mkitty3 requested Vampire Dean (SPN) porn. My contribution isn't really porny, but if you're interested, I've reposted it.
"C'mon, Sam," Dean said. His voice, gone low and seductive, was doing strange things to Sam's insides.
Sam gripped his stake tighter as he fought the urge to obey Dean, to offer him his throat, his blood, to offer whatever Dean wanted. "I-I-" Sam started, before swallowing hard and starting again. "I'm not listening to you."
Dean moved out of the shadows of the trees and prowled closer to where Sam stood in the small circle of light provided by the campfire. "Think of all the good we could do if we were immortal. Think of all the people we could save."
"And what about the people we'd have to kill to feed on? What about them?"
"We'd save a hell of a lot more than we killed."
Sam found himself staring into Dean's eyes and, with what felt like a tremendous effort, wrenched his gaze away. "That's... that's not right."
Taking his eyes off Dean turned out to be a mistake. Sam felt Dean behind him, pressed up against him. Dean's arms were wrapped around him. His mouth was at Sam's throat.
"It's pragmatic," Dean murmured. "A few die so that more can live."
A tongue licked up the side of Sam's neck. Sam's breath was coming in short, ragged gasps. The tongue licked up his neck again and he shuddered in reaction. His legs felt weak and he wondered if he would've fallen if not for his brother's embrace.
There was a scrape of teeth against his flesh and a moan escaped from Sam's lips before he could bite it back. Dean's hands, which had been on Sam's chest, began to travel downward.
"The two of us, we belong together," Dean said, in that smooth, tempting, arousing new voice of his. A hand skimmed over the crotch of Sam's jeans. "I miss you, Sammy. I miss my brother."
In a flash, Sam elbowed Dean, sending him stumbling back. He raised his stake as he whirled to face the vampire.
"Don't call me Sammy! You're not my brother. You're just the thing he became. My brother would never want that."
Dean stepped further away and grinned. "Maybe he would, maybe he wouldn't." His gaze went pointedly to where Sam was still half-hard. "You sure as hell do."
Unable to deny it, Sam could only watch as Dean backed into the gloom of the woods around them and melted into the darkness.
That night, Sam's sleeping mind was filled with images of blood and fucking and screams of pain and ecstasy. Upon awakening he wasn't sure if they'd been dreams, nightmares, or visions of things to come.
"C'mon, Sam," Dean said. His voice, gone low and seductive, was doing strange things to Sam's insides.
Sam gripped his stake tighter as he fought the urge to obey Dean, to offer him his throat, his blood, to offer whatever Dean wanted. "I-I-" Sam started, before swallowing hard and starting again. "I'm not listening to you."
Dean moved out of the shadows of the trees and prowled closer to where Sam stood in the small circle of light provided by the campfire. "Think of all the good we could do if we were immortal. Think of all the people we could save."
"And what about the people we'd have to kill to feed on? What about them?"
"We'd save a hell of a lot more than we killed."
Sam found himself staring into Dean's eyes and, with what felt like a tremendous effort, wrenched his gaze away. "That's... that's not right."
Taking his eyes off Dean turned out to be a mistake. Sam felt Dean behind him, pressed up against him. Dean's arms were wrapped around him. His mouth was at Sam's throat.
"It's pragmatic," Dean murmured. "A few die so that more can live."
A tongue licked up the side of Sam's neck. Sam's breath was coming in short, ragged gasps. The tongue licked up his neck again and he shuddered in reaction. His legs felt weak and he wondered if he would've fallen if not for his brother's embrace.
There was a scrape of teeth against his flesh and a moan escaped from Sam's lips before he could bite it back. Dean's hands, which had been on Sam's chest, began to travel downward.
"The two of us, we belong together," Dean said, in that smooth, tempting, arousing new voice of his. A hand skimmed over the crotch of Sam's jeans. "I miss you, Sammy. I miss my brother."
In a flash, Sam elbowed Dean, sending him stumbling back. He raised his stake as he whirled to face the vampire.
"Don't call me Sammy! You're not my brother. You're just the thing he became. My brother would never want that."
Dean stepped further away and grinned. "Maybe he would, maybe he wouldn't." His gaze went pointedly to where Sam was still half-hard. "You sure as hell do."
Unable to deny it, Sam could only watch as Dean backed into the gloom of the woods around them and melted into the darkness.
That night, Sam's sleeping mind was filled with images of blood and fucking and screams of pain and ecstasy. Upon awakening he wasn't sure if they'd been dreams, nightmares, or visions of things to come.