Taste Like Fine Wine
Dean doesn’t think too much about the state of the place as he lies back against Benny on the tattered couch. There are no lights in this place — a cabin somewhere in the middle of nowhere, somewhere that’s not even written on the map — and Dean can definitely hear something crawling under the floorboards.
“Hey,” Benny grumbles in his ear, tilting his head back and stretching his neck out.
The skin is a little tender still and there’s a raw puncture wound still trying to heal, but he lets Benny do what he needs to anyway. He takes a long shuddering breath and closes his eyes. Benny’s other arm wraps around his torso, holding him solid and secure.
“I’m okay,” Dean murmurs and feels Benny nod slowly before he noses against his throat.
Dean tries to keep his breathing slow and even, tries not to get worked up. He knows that how he reacts now changes the taste that Benny chases.
Lips kiss and nip and, finally, sharp teeth bite into his skin. Dean hisses but Benny holds him tight, keeping him where he needs him as he takes Dean’s blood.
Benny pulls off briefly, gasping for air. “You taste like fine wine, Cher.”
Dean can’t talk back, his body feeling weak and lethargic suddenly. He knows that after Benny has taken his fill and Dean gets his energy back, arousal will pool in his stomach.
His cheeks flush with embarrassment as he begs Benny to get him off. Benny obliges, of course, taking Dean’s cock in hand and stroking him deftly until he orgasms over his own pants.
Dean sleeps then, curled in Benny’s arms as the vampire sips from a wine glass. He’s safe here — a thought he didn’t think he’d have for a vampire, but Benny is one of the good ones. He smiles at him when he wakes. His face is clean from Dean’s own blood.
When Dean gets to the door of the cabin, he’s confident it won’t be the last time. Benny kissing him, tenderly, beautifully, on his lips right before he leaves solidifies that. “I’ll be back soon.”
Suptober day 7; fine wine
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