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Lonely Too Long

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Benny couldn’t say he was particularly surprised to find Dean knocking on his door one night, even though he was confused as to how exactly Dean found him. There must have been two dozen equally nondescript boats gently bobbing in the marina, not to mention he hadn’t even told Dean what town he’d been in last. He opened the door to find Dean leaning against the doorframe, overly casual and trying hard to hide the exhaustion in his body though the tension around his eyes and mouth gave him away.

Benny wiped his hands on the dishtowel he was holding before lightly grasping Dean’s wrist and tugging him inside. “Been a while, brother,” he murmured, hauling Dean close for a hug. He wasn’t expecting Dean to return it so forcefully or hold on for so long.

He soothed his hands up and down Dean’s back, the friction from the rough canvas of his jacket causing his hands to itch. Dean let out a shuddering breath and pulled back, scratching at the corner of his eye with a finger. He smirked a little but was evidently too tired to make it convincing.

“Yeah, I was just in the area, you know. Wanted to see how you were doing.” Dean moved stiffly and slowly through the cabin, reaching out to touch things – a mug, a pair of suspenders slung over a chair back—but pulled his fingers away before letting himself make contact. Benny just stood quietly, letting Dean settle himself down.

“Mmhmm, yeah. Me and Sam, uh, we just finished a case and I thought I’d come see you. Phone calls are so impersonal and it’s been a while, you’re right...” Dean continued talking a mile a minute about inane bullshit that Benny doesn’t buy for a second. He is starting to see something else though. Desperation in those green eyes.

Dean came to him because he had nowhere else to go. Benny isn’t even sure which disaster in Dean’s life prompted this visit but he isn’t going to complain.

“Well, you must be hungry. Come on and sit. Caught some catfish earlier that I was gonna cook up just now. You like it fried?”

In truth, Benny had been planning on selling the fish he caught and had been cleaning up the kitchen and getting ready for bed, but if Dean sensed Benny going out of his way for Dean, he was pretty sure Dean would protest and put up a fuss. He could fry up a catfish in his just cleaned pan, no problem.




It took two days for Dean to finally confess that he and Sam had been fighting for a good long while. It took two more days for Dean to actually agree to stay with Benny for a bit.

“Until things cool off, Dean,” he’d said, but already hoping it’d be a longer stay than that. Benny didn’t dare let himself hope for permanent. But it was there in the back of his mind anyway.




Dean at first insisted on sleeping on the floor, claiming he wouldn’t force Benny to give up his narrow bed and rolled his eyes amusedly when Benny suggested they share it.

A week on the floor and Dean was crawling into bed with Benny fully clothed, apologies on his lips and rigid lines of tension keeping him still on the very edge of the mattress.

As the nights went by, Dean got closer and closer to Benny, shifting his body and losing layers until Benny could see his breath disturbing the fine hairs at the back of Dean’s neck and see the goosebumps erupt on his arms. Frankly, it was ridiculous to wear so many layers this far south on the Mississippi. The heat was oppressive, to say the least. Mosquitoes swarmed the deck after dusk and despite Dean getting bit twice on the soft inside of his upper arm, he continued to shed layers every night.

Benny took it as the sign of comfort it was meant to be.




Dean left early one morning and Benny half feared he wouldn’t return until Dean’s shadow darkened the cabin doorway, grinning like a little boy as he held a cooler of AB negative aloft like a victory prize.

“What’s all this then?”

“I think we should head upriver or something. We’re on a boat after all and we’re just sitting in the marina for weeks now.”

Benny spoke slowly, “Yeah, we could now. What about...”

“I just put the Impala in storage this morning so we’re good to go,” Dean interrupted, still grinning hugely.

Benny had been about to ask after Sam but if Dean didn’t want to talk about it, he wasn’t going to force him. If the brothers were on the outs, well, Benny couldn’t do much to help. Sam was still uneasy (hostile, his mind corrected) around Benny and Dean was about as open to the subject as he was about Castiel, which is to say not at all.




They made their way slowly up the river, stopping occasionally in small towns along the riverbank but never staying for long. Benny would make a discreet run to a blood bank when he could find one and Dean would pick up a few things. Odds and ends mostly that started taking up space in the little cabin, not that Benny complained. He liked that Dean was adding to his (their) home. He liked the new ruffled apron, bought as a joke and tossed at him with a laugh, and he wore it every time he cooked now, not missing the pleased flush on Dean’s cheeks.

He liked the cartoonish alligator salt and pepper shakers that never did get filled up, and the afghan that was nearly unbearable to lay beneath during the warm nights, and even the welcome mat laying outside the cabin door that inexplicably read “Beat It!”. Benny scratched his head at that one considering he and Dean were the only ones on the boat and he assumed it was a joke of some kind but didn’t want to ask and draw attention to the knick knacks taking over the boat.

They crawled up towards Memphis, passing the edge of the city at dusk. It had taken nearly a week at the snail’s pace they were going and Dean seemed to have no interest in stopping in the city, getting ansty and agitated the longer the bright lights illuminated the deck of the boat.

Benny wrapped his hand around Dean’s shoulder as they watched the city disappear behind them, feeling the tension leave Dean the further away they got. “Everything okay?”

Dean shrugged but not hard enough to dislodge Benny’s hand. He even leaned into it a little before answering. “Guess I never was an Elvis fan,” he joked weakly.

Benny couldn’t quite read between the lines on that one but he kept his hand where it was until it was too dark to see much of anything anymore.

When they passed St. Louis a day later, Benny watched Dean of signs of discomfort and sure enough, Dean started drumming his fingers along the edge of the railing and walking the length of the tiny deck in circles humming something Benny didn’t recognize. Not that he recognized any of Dean’s musical tastes.

He asked Dean later that night as they lay in bed, both stripped down to an undershirt and boxers but still preserving precious few inches of mattress between them. Maybe it was the safety of the cover of darkness or Dean was tired enough to be honest, but Benny wasn’t expecting the answer.

“I like forgetting the world still exists sometimes,” Dean murmured sleepily. “Small towns are okay because they’re easy to forget after you leave ‘em. Big cities...” he trailed off with a jaw-cracking yawn.

“Make it real again,” Benny supplied. He could understand that. If anyone was entitled to a break from the world it was Dean Winchester.

“Mmhmm. Like this. Like you,” Dean stretched his fingertips out to touch Benny, catching the fabric of his undershirt just above his heart. Benny’s breath stuttered out, not prepared for contact after Dean had so studiously avoided it. He kept still though, not daring to startle Dean awake and into awareness.

Dean clutched at Benny’s shirt, fingers plucking at it restlessly and once catching a couple of chest hairs that made Benny hiss in a breath in shock. Dean kept at it unconsciously until he stretched his hand wide, spreading his fingers across Benny’s chest and let them drift down to the arm he was laying on. He curled his fingers around it and his breaths evened out deep and slow.

Benny didn’t sleep at all that night.




Neither of them mentioned it the next morning, Benny unwilling to push Dean into anymore confessions he might not want to make and Dean avoiding emotions like the pro he so obviously was. It doesn’t stop Benny from feeling the ghost of Dean’s warmth on his cool skin or hearing echoes of “like you” in his mind.




They kept traveling north up the river until they reached the end of Illinois. A few hours into Wisconsin, when Dean abruptly announced they should head back south. Benny felt his heart clench, felt his already cool skin go cold. He nodded mutely, fearing the worst. This was it. Dean would leave him when they got back downriver. He’d hug Benny with a slap on the back, get into that gleaming black car, and drive away for months, years, who knew how long until Benny would see him again, taking a piece of Benny’s heart with him.

Benny could see the entire scene unfolding before him, trudging back to the boat alone, seeing traces of Dean everywhere in the cabin, hearing him laugh when he was awake and sigh softly in his sleep, feeling his warm breath puff across Benny’s cheek every night.

No. He couldn’t lose that.


Dean turned around with a raised brow. Benny hadn’t even realized he’d spoken out loud. When he paused for too long, Dean frowned and moved closer on the tiny deck. “You okay, man?”

Benny cleared his throat, looking down for a moment before meeting Dean’s eyes. “You don’t have to go yet.”

Dean looked even more perplexed. “Go? Go where?”

“When we get back south. You don’t have to...” Benny took his cap off and rubbed a hand over his head, trying to get himself together. He kept it clutched in his hand, feeling exposed, as he tried again. “You don’t have to leave. You can stay here.” With me. Stay with me.

“I wasn’t planning on going anywhere.” Dean still sounded confused, brows scrunched and one eye squinting at Benny as if trying to make him out.

Benny wasn’t aware of moving towards Dean until he was so close he could count the freckles dotting Dean’s nose, more numerous after the weeks in the sun, and see the single gray hair at Dean’s temple. Dean’s eyes were wider but he stayed still. Benny heard himself say, “Good, ‘cause I don’t want you goin’ anywhere.” His accent got thicker and slower, and Dean shivered under the words spoken right against his lips.

When Benny leaned across the last inch to kiss Dean, he didn’t expect to open to him so willingly or so quickly. He could feel Dean’s tongue teasing the line of lips and whoa.

He broke the kiss but brought his hands to clasp around Dean’s arms so he didn’t think he was rejecting him. “We can take it easy, brother. No rush here.”

Dean growled out in that rough voice of his, “Goddamn it, Benny. We’ve been taking it slow for weeks now.”

And... oh. Yeah, he guesses they have been. He holds back Dean lunging at him again, this time chuckling lightly and rubbing his hands up and down Dean’s arms.

“Stay still already,” he laughed. He laughed harder when Dean completely stopped fighting him and stood stock still, mouth parted in anticipation and eyes bright on Benny’s face. “We’re gonna do this proper.”

“Sounds good to me. Let’s get to it.”

Benny shot Dean a warning glance before closing the distance between them again, pressing his lips against Dean’s, feeling the slightly chapped skin and the smell of something so especially Dean filling his senses and taking all his self control to keep the kiss light. He wanted to delve into that plush mouth, taste and take and leave both of them breathless. But there would be plenty of time for that later.

He let himself pull the soft bottom lip between his, giving it a swipe of his tongue before releasing it, feeling Dean’s exhale through his parted lips, sweet and dark at the same time. He stepped back to find Dean’s eyes still closed and lips still separated. Smiling, he kissed both of Dean’s eyelids, loving the feel of his eyelashes fluttering against his chin.

Dean’s eyes opened and Benny hoped he hadn’t gone too far for Dean. But all he could see was fond exasperation. “What?”

“So ‘proper’ means ‘slow’?” Dean huffed out a laugh.

Benny smiled, and caught the sight of his cap at his feet. He bent down and dusted it off, giving it a shake before sitting it atop his head. He tipped the brim towards Dean and said, “You got it.”




Despite Dean’s enthusiasm to move things along, Benny was determined to keep things at a slow pace. Not that he wouldn’t mind tumbling into bed next Dean, worship that body with touches and kisses and feel the blood rushing beneath that thin exterior, but he was a gentleman, damn it.




They turned back down river, heading south but Benny was no longer worried about this (whatever it was) ending.

He watched Dean sun himself on the deck in the mornings, complaining about the sun by midday. He listened amusedly as Dean would tell stories of mishaps and accidents while hunting, though he noticed Dean never told stories about hunting vampires. Stories about Sam were less frequent but all told with the same fond affection. Stories about Castiel were affectionate but always with a twinge of bitterness. He didn’t ask for elaborations, just taking whatever Dean offered.

They stopped for an afternoon somewhere in Missouri since Benny was running low on bags and Dean insisted he could keep himself out of trouble for a while. When Benny made it back to the boat Dean was lazing on the deck in a chair he had dragged from the cabin. Benny noticed a pile of books beside him.

“Good books?”

Dean grinned sharply. “The best.”

And so it became a routine. Dean read his favorite books aloud to Benny, first something by a Vonnegut that had Benny raising his eyebrows several times. When Dean pulled out a Mark Twain, Benny laughed and remarked how appropriate it was.

They drifted south down the Mississippi with Dean’s voice bringing life to Huck Finn and Jim and their own travels down the very same river.

Every evening they’d cook together, friendly nudges and bumps as they worked in the tiny space. Every evening they would eat, Dean digging into the fish they’d made and Benny quietly sipping on a blood bag.

Every night they would strip down to their underwear and get in bed, facing each other and slowly falling asleep not touching, but waking up every morning wrapped in each other’s arms.




The night Dean produced a radio from somewhere was a good night. Reception was terrible and they swayed close together to bits and snatches of Bobby Darin singing Somewhere Beyond the Sea and the two of them filling in the gaps. Benny had a passable singing voice but he was floored to hear Dean sing low and sweet and so damn good that he stopped dancing altogether in shock.

“You never told me you sing!”

Dean shrugged, clearly uncomfortable and the tips of his ears turned red. “Well. You never asked.”

Benny shook his head and grabbed Dean closer again, pressed cheek to cheek as the song finished on the radio. But Dean kept singing. “Somewhere beyond the sea, somewhere waitin’ for me, my lover stands on golden sands...

Bobby Darin faded into a big band orchestra that neither of them recognized but it was upbeat and they danced in tight circles, Benny’s whiskers rubbing Dean’s cheek red and Dean pressing fingers into Benny’s waist, even as the radio lost reception again.

They both jumped slightly when the white noise of the radio turned into Etta James’ raspy voice singing, “At last, my love has come along. My lonely days are over...

Benny chuckled and dropped his forehead to Dean’s shoulder. He felt Dean’s arms come around his back, and heard him singing softly into Benny’s ear as they slow-stepped together. “I found a dream, that I could speak to. A dream that I can call my own. I found a thrill to press my cheek to, a thrill that I have never known...

In that moment, Benny felt it keenly enough for both of them. The loneliness of their lives, the constant fighting for survival, and how it all seemed to vanish here when they were wrapped up in each other. The outside world was less of a reality than what was happening between them now.

Benny distantly remembered dinner cooking on the stove behind them and he swayed them closer to reach behind him and turn it off without letting go of Dean.

Neither of them ate that night, but it didn’t matter.




They spent a full week in Louisiana. Benny pointed out the Spanish moss drooping down to skim the water and once even an alligator sunning himself on the bank. Dean nosed at his cheek every time Benny got excited about something, his accent deepening here as if every part of him could sense the feeling of home.

Benny’s hometown was too far inland to be able to show Dean but they spent a dusky evening shooing mosquitoes away from Dean while Benny talked about his youth, the pranks he pulled and his mama. Her quiet, warm honey voice that countered his daddy’s disciplinarian ways and how much he missed her.

“I think our moms would have gotten along,” Dean said thoughtfully, thumb skimming Benny’s hipbone and eyelashes brushing against his ear. “Our dads too, now that I think about it.”

“Hmm, I bet you’re right,” Benny murmured, turning to catch Dean’s mouth in a sweet, lazy kiss. They traded stories between more kisses until the stories ran out but the kisses never did.

Dean ended up sitting in Benny’s lap, arms tight around his neck and lips eagerly searching out Benny’s. Benny didn’t stop Dean when his hips rolled down against his experimentally and his answering groan caused Dean to do it again and again until they were both panting into open mouths and Benny could feel Dean’s hardened length against his own. The layers were thick between them, but it didn’t stop Dean from going tense within minutes and shaking apart above him, coming with the sweetest sounds Benny ever did hear.

Dean collapsed against him and Benny’s aching cock was pressed tightly between them with just enough room for Benny to unzip and slide a hand in. There wasn’t enough space for him to get a grip around himself but he ground against his hand and Dean’s thigh together until he spilled with a groan. Dean pressed clumsy open-mouthed kisses to Benny’s throat as he shook with aftershocks. After a few minutes, Dean’s breathing returned to normal, though his limbs were still loose and lax. He shifted on Benny’s lap trying to straighten himself up, but Benny shushed him and stroked Dean’s back soothingly.

“It’s alright now, sugar. It’s alright.” He kept up the long sweeping strokes until he was pretty sure Dean had fallen asleep on him. They sat on the deck, Dean trying to curl his long body against Benny’s and Benny holding him firmly. He finally stood and hoisted Dean into his arms when the mosquitoes became vicious, Benny wincing in sympathy at the fresh bites that Dean would scratch relentlessly all day tomorrow, hopefully stopping before breaking the skin. Dean batted at his arms sleepily.

“Not a baby. ‘M awake, can walk.”

“You bet, honey,” he replied, still holding Dean close as he brought him inside the cabin and laid him on the bed. The mattress wasn’t springy enough to bounce Dean so he landed harder than Benny anticipated. They peeled sticky clothes off, Dean getting in the way more than helping, and Benny winced at the pull of dried come on their bellies. He fetched a small wet towel and rubbed them clean as best he could.

Dean was now fully naked and smiling sleep-sweet at Benny, trying to pull him down on the bed. Benny sighed and stepped out of his own underwear and sliding cautiously on to the bed, leaving a couple of inches between them.

Dean huffed and pulled Benny’s arms around him until they were spooned flush together and Benny jumped a little when his soft cock brushed Dean’s ass. “’S okay, man. Just sleep now.”

Benny listened to Dean’s breathing even out and go slow and deep, but he stayed awake for hours after, marveling at Dean’s soft skin. The freckles were numerous across his shoulders and arms and Benny wanted to tongue at each and every one. He slid a hand around Dean’s hip and up around his chest, holding against his ribs while his breath pushed them in and out.

Close to dawn, Dean shifted and Benny opened his eyes, wondering when he drifted off. Dean wriggled around until he was facing Benny and Benny opened his arm out as he rolled onto his back, Dean immediately snuggling against his chest. Benny wrapped his arm around Dean wishing he’d thought to grab the afghan when they’d gone to bed and regretting for the first time in a long time that he had no human warmth to give Dean.

“You cold?” he whispered.

“Mmph. I’m good,” Dean yawned into Benny’s chest, exhaled breath stirring the dark hair dusting the expanse. “You’re better than the cool side of the pillow.”

That startled Benny into a genuine smile. He snuck a kiss down onto Dean’s forehead and let them sink back into sleep until the sun was high and warm.




On a whim, they headed for the mouth of the river and into the Gulf. The waters were rougher and it took more concentration as Benny steered them around the coastline. Dean looked a little worse for wear by the time they reached Pensacola.

Benny was afraid Dean wouldn’t agree to go ashore. Unexpectedly, Dean suggested it before Benny had a chance to broach the subject and they found a marina. Benny hopped out first to tie the boat off and reached a hand out to help Dean up to the dock, unable to keep his surprise off his face when Dean didn’t let go.

They walked around for a bit, finding a fish market selling fresh caught fish and an older woman outside in a food truck making hot beignets. Dean dragged them over and bought half a dozen from her, shooting her a wink and a smile that had her perking up. Benny just laughed and told Dean as he was popping the puffed dough into his mouth, and getting powdered sugar all over both of them in the process, that he would make them for Dean sometime. Dean responded with an enthusiastic (and sugary) kiss.

After the beignets were long gone, they found themselves in what Benny assumed was the historic district of downtown. The Spanish architecture was beautiful and he kept pointing out red tiled roofs to Dean. Dean really only looked interested when he heard a couple of girls passing by talking about taking a ghost tour.

He stopped them with a grin and polite “Excuse me? Did you say ghosts?”

The girls giggled and smiled them and explained that there were several tours available of local places rumored to be haunted.

It wasn’t until the taller of the two girls asked, “Did you and your boyfriend want to check it out?” that Benny realized they were still holding hands. He reluctantly started to let go of Dean’s hand but stopped when Dean glanced over and meaningfully squeezed Benny’s fingers. Benny smiled softly and slipped his fingers to rest between Dean’s and listened politely while Dean asked questions about the ghost that supposedly haunted the local lighthouse.

When the girls turned to leave, Benny could sense Dean’s excitement and sure enough, when they were out of earshot Dean whirled around and gripped Benny’s hand tightly, “Did you hear that? A ghost, man! Haven’t hunted a ghost in a long time.”

Privately, Benny thought that Dean had never looked more beautiful than he did with the obnoxiously hot Florida sun beating down on them and making Dean’s eyes glow brighter as he explained the ins and outs of hunting a ghost.

He could feel Dean nearly vibrating when he suggested they take the tour of the lighthouse just to check it out. After asking around, they were directed to a low roofed building where they bought two tickets and met their tour guide, a perky twenty-something named Steve, and gaggle of schoolchildren with their harried looking teacher trying to call roll with mixed success.

Benny watched the children for signs of disgust at his and Dean’s still clasped hands, but all he got was mild curiosity. He smiled at them and the ones looking at him brightened considerably. A couple of them even said hello. Dean wasn’t paying attention, listening to the guide attentively and asking questions. As they walked to the lighthouse, Dean kept his fingers between Benny’s but clearly on the hunt now as he and the guide talked about possible sightings and the identity of the ghost. Benny shrugged good-naturedly at the teacher as they made small talk, smiling at Dean (his boyfriend) as they all trooped along the too warm sidewalks. The breeze from the ocean was the only saving grace of this particular outdoor excursion.

By the end of the tour, Benny hadn’t really paid attention to what happened but enjoyed talking with Mrs. Baker (“call me Libby”) and watching her boisterous class run around. He was pretty sure Dean was really the only one on this tour. He let Dean stand around talking to Steve for a bit as he helped herd Libby’s class into a semi circle so she could give them instructions. He waved goodbye to her and the class as Dean walked back towards him, his shoulders drooping a little.

“What happened?”

“I don’t think there’s really a ghost here. Could just be a rumor. But, uh, I wouldn’t mind maybe still checking it out?” He looked at Benny hopefully.

Benny nodded, “Sure, that sounds like a good idea. How about I find us a room for the night?” His chest felt light at the beaming smile Dean gave him and he thought he might float away altogether when Dean leaned over and smooched him right on the mouth in the middle of the street.

They parted ways, Benny to find a room and Dean to keep investigating.




“I didn’t mean a nice room!”

Benny figured Dean would get caught on that fact. Truthfully, the bed and breakfast was the first place he walked past and it looked charming enough with its seaside views that he really couldn’t resist. The bed alone looked wonderful enough for the cost of the room. A soft blue quilt covered the satiny cotton-white sheets on the iron frame bed and the entire room was decorated in similar calm colors. There were also probably a thousand seashells used in various ways, covering all the picture frames and the edges of the mirror in the bathroom and placed decoratively on most of the flat surfaces in the room.

While Dean looked torn between picking a fight and sinking into the bed, Benny kicked off his shoes and stretched out across the blue quilt. “The bathroom has a huge tub,” he commented lazily.

Dean didn’t pick a fight.




By late afternoon, Dean was absolutely sure that the ghost was just a rumor and he looked a little disappointed. It didn’t stop him from finding the poor bastard’s grave that night and taking Benny along for backup as they dug him up and salted and burned the bones. They were filthy by the time they returned and the dismayed look the old man at the front desk gave them had Benny whispering to Dean, “Maybe we should have jumped in the ocean first. Soaking wet probably would have been less suspicious than covered in dirt.”

Dean shrugged him off and reminded him about the tub. They rinsed off the worst of the dirt and sand before filling up the tub. The hour they spent soaking in the hot soapy water back to chest was worth it.

The bed was as soft as it looked and they both groaned contentedly as they slipped between the sheets, naked skin pruned and smelling of soap. Benny stretched out beneath the covers and closed his eyes, sighing deeply. It wasn’t often he found himself in such a nice bed. His eyes popped open, however, when he felt Dean maneuvering himself over Benny to rest on his hips. Benny brought his hands to rest on Dean’s thighs as he blinked up at him. What he saw surprised him.

Dean looked unsure of himself. He looked down, avoiding Benny’s eyes as he sifted his fingers through the hair on his chest. “I know we’ve been taking this slow, Benny, but please? I want it. You.”

He looked like he thought Benny would reject him. As if Benny could deny him anything.

Benny reached up to pull Dean down to kiss him, rubbing his thumbs across Dean’s day old stubble. Dean rolled them over so that Benny blanketed his body completely and Benny curled his hands protectively around Dean’s head as they kissed.

He was so wonderfully responsive to everything Benny did. Every teasing nip was met with a shallow gasp. Every deep kiss that brought their tongues together, wet slide of muscle tasting each other, drew a moan from Dean.

Dean let his legs fall open to bracket Benny’s hips as they started a slow grind against hardening, lengthening cocks. Benny was getting close, feeling his hips stuttering erratically, when Dean tore his mouth away from Benny’s to gasp out, “Wait, not like this.”

Benny levered himself on one hand to get a look at Dean and hell, he was already flushed and panting, his lips swollen pink from the kisses and his cheeks and chin reddened by Benny’s beard. Those bottle green eyes were dark and getting darker as they watched Benny hungrily.

“What d’ya want, darlin’? Want my mouth on ya?” That elicited a bone deep shudder from both of them. Benny mouthed kisses across Dean’s jaw until he reached his ear and he murmured, “Could suck you off, hmm?” A nip to the edge of his ear. “Make it so good for you.”

He got distracted then by the flutter of Dean’s eyelashes against his cheek. Soft little whispery butterfly kisses trying to get his attention.

“You just tell me, sugar.”

“I want— fuck – I- I want you in me,” Dean huffed. “But I wouldn’t mind the other thing either.”

Benny chuckled and kissed that pert mouth, nodding and sliding his way down Dean’s body. He trailed kisses and nips down his torso, stopping to bite a bruise into Dean’s hipbone. The blood came rushing to the surface and Benny could smell it so sweet and perfect, he got a little lightheaded. He felt the press of his fangs behind his gums and he firmly told that part of his mind to shut up.

He wasn’t as subtle as he thought. Dean caught his eye and smiled at him so trusting and said, “I don’t mind. It’s not like you haven’t before.”

True as that may be, this wasn’t Purgatory. This wasn’t desperation and unquenchable thirst. This wasn’t Dean offering himself as a last resort.

This was special. This was trust and Benny told Dean so just before he wrapped his lips around the head of Dean’s flushed and weeping cock. Benny could hear the vibrations in Dean’s throat, trying to keep the groans and moans from surfacing, and he pulled off long enough to say, “Don’t hold back here. Need t’hear you sing for me.”

And Dean did.

Benny was just establishing a rhythm, unable to get the entirety of his cock in his mouth but sucking hard on the head with a twist of his tongue to make up for it, when Dean started to push against him with floppy hands. He glanced up to see Dean looking as delicious and decadent as he’d ever seen.

“Wanna swing around up here?” he asked, making a twirling motion with his fingers.

He didn’t think twice before pulling himself up and over Dean’s body and settling over Dean’s face. Since he couldn’t see what Dean was doing, he jumped a little when he felt the first swipe of Dean’s tongue but relaxed into a long, deep groan as he felt the warm, wet heat surrounding all of him. And damn if Dean didn’t actually get all of him down. He could feel the contracting press of Dean’s throat around the head of his cock and he couldn’t stop his moan.

Benny went back to Dean, sucking and laving his tongue around the silky smooth head. He bent his arm to rest on his elbow as he sucked two of his fingers in his mouth and jacked Dean off with his other hand. Switching off, he brought his mouth back down and reached his now wet fingers behind Dean’s balls, searching for that little crinkled hole. He brushed against it and felt Dean’s answering moan reverberate through him.

He started circling it, light pressure at first then growing steadily until the very tip of his index finger breached the outer ring of muscle. He lost his balance as Dean released his cock to suckle on his balls and his finger slipped in to the first knuckle. Benny swore and tried to backtrack, but Dean pulled back to croak out, “No, more. More. I can take it, man.”

They had to do this right though. As much as Benny didn’t want to lose that delightful mouth on him, he shifted away and back over, kneeling above a confused looking Dean. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’ wrong, sugar. Just don’t wanna hurt ya, is all.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Fine. My bag.”

“Come again?”

“Was trying to,” Dean grumped. “I’ve got uh, some stuff in my bag.”

Oh. That stuff.

Benny slid off the bed and found Dean’s bag lying near the foot. He poked around in it as Dean started shifting impatiently, legs restlessly scrunching up the sheets. Dean opened his mouth just as Benny felt his fingers brush against a plastic bottle. He pulled it out and threw it on the bed, bouncing off Dean’s knee and landing between the V of his legs.

He climbed back up and sat back on his heels between Dean’s legs. He started rubbing the calves stretched out beside him, digging his thumbs into muscle and flesh as he bent one knee up and then the other, exposing Dean to him. He planted a kiss on each kneecap before opening the bottle and coating his fingers in the slick lube. He didn’t notice how quiet Dean had gone until he looked up.

Dean was propped up on his elbows, chewing at his already plump lower lip and watching Benny with wide eyes.

He grasped Dean’s hip and rubbed circles under the winged bone as he made shushing noises. “What’s wrong, darlin’? What do you need? Hmm?”

Dean flopped backwards and stared at the ceiling. Benny reached up and smoothed circles over Dean’s belly, palm rubbing over the trail of hair there. “I just. I haven’t. I—“

Benny surged up and kissed Dean, suddenly understanding the hesitation. “You wanna stop, sugar?” God, it wouldn’t be easy, but he would do it for Dean. “Talk to me, honey. Don’t clam up on me. You never...?”

Dean huffed out a noisy sigh and clamped a hand over his eyes. “I’ve done stuff. Just not, you know.” He popped his head forward abruptly, eyes wide. “But I want to with you! Don’t stop. I just. Haven’t...” he trailed off and Benny curled a hand around his neck, cupping his head and stroking the short, bristly hairs there.

“You want me? You have me. I’ll do whatever you want, okay? I’ll make it good for you.”

Dean nosed at Benny’s jaw before kissing him deeply. “Yeah, okay. I want you to fuck me.”

Benny frowned and replied, “This ain’t fuckin’. This is—“

“Do not say ‘making love’. It’s so cheesy,” Dean interrupted quickly.

It was Benny’s turn to roll his eyes, but he nodded anyway, silently finishing the sentence to himself.

Cheesy or not. It is what it is.

He shifted around until he was laying between Dean’s thighs on his stomach, his legs getting trapped by the iron frame on the foot of the bed until he curled his knees under his body. If Dean had never done this before, he probably hadn’t ever had someone rim him either, and if there was one thing Benny could not wait to do to Dean...

The first yelp that came out of Dean, high pitched and shocked, made him smile and press his tongue even more firmly against Dean’s hole. He laved and licked and sucked on the skin until Dean was writhing and clinging to the bars on the headboard. Dean was dark and addictive and Benny could have spent hours doing this. Hearing Dean make those lovely groans and breathy ah-ahs, well, that was just the cherry on top.

He grabbed Dean’s thighs and hoisted him up until his upper back was the only part still in contact with the bed. Benny buried his face between those lightly dusted, freckled cheeks and got Dean so open and loose and slick with spit that he could poke the tip of his tongue inside. Dean wailed and bucked against him hard enough that he figured it was a good thing he wasn’t human or he wouldn’t be able to hold him steady.

By the time he pulled back, Dean’s hole was puffy and invitingly open, the skin around it blushing red from the scratch of Benny’s beard. Dean himself was panting and wriggling weakly with shiny eyes. Benny lowered his legs back down to the bed, brushing a stray tear off Dean’s cheek. “You good, mon cher?”

Dean nodded vigorously, pulling Benny into a wet kiss that surprised him. Considering where his tongue had just been. But if Dean didn’t mind, neither did he. Dean wouldn’t let go of Benny’s mouth, keeping his hands on either side of his jaw, so Benny had to blindly search for the lube again, lost between the sheets. When he felt it, he squirted some out into his hands and tossed it aside. He slicked himself up and used the rest on Dean’s hole, not daring to make this any more painful for him than it had to be.

When Dean relinquished his mouth again, Benny kept his forehead pressed to Dean’s and mumbled, “Can I, baby? You ready?” as he lined himself up and pushed forward.

The head popped through and all he could think was heat. Dean was furnace-hot and it felt magnificent on his cool skin, silky walls clutching at him trying to force him out. “Easy, sugar. Let me in. I know, I know,” he soothed as Dean’s face eased from a shocked frown to mild discomfort. “You tell me when.”

He waited a few minutes, keeping a watchful eye on Dean’s face, until he felt him experimentally squeeze around Benny’s cock and Benny choked on the breath he was taking in.

“Think I’m good.” Another squeeze. “Yeah, it’s good.”

They still took it slow, Benny rocking forward and backward over and over. When he was pressed flush against Dean’s hips, he looked down at where they were connected. He pulled back a little and sank forward again, marveling over how Dean could take him all. Reaching out, he pressed his thumb against Dean’s rim, feeling himself inside and relishing Dean’s choked moan.

Dean was getting slick with sweat between them, the heat of his body grasping and pulling Benny closer and closer. Benny curled a hand around the top of Dean’s forehead as he kissed him, suckling on those pillowy soft lips and lowering his body down until they were pressed together head to hips. He could feel Dean’s cock rubbing against his belly, fever hot and leaking precome with every thrust.

He reached down with his free hand and hitched Dean’s leg around his hip, driving into him with a hard grind. The angle must have changed just right because Dean bucked up, eyes wide and let out a shocked “oh”. Benny aimed for that spot over and over again until Dean was squirming and panting heavy into Benny’s mouth. “Almost there, almost there. Fuck, fuck Benny.” He felt Dean’s thighs tense against his hips and he slid a hand between them, barely getting his fingers wrapped around Dean before he was coming sticky and wet between them.

He followed Dean a few thrusts later and collapsed on top of him, sated and breathless. Benny rolled off and pulled a still shaky Dean with him before settling down against the pillows. He’d get them cleaned up in a moment, but for now, he was too comfortable and enjoying the feel of Dean wrapped so close.

“So that was pretty much awesome,” Dean mumbled into Benny’s neck.

“I think you’re right, mon cœur.”




Hours later, Benny awoke, thanks to some particularly loud squawking seagulls outside their window. He didn’t remember falling asleep and was already grimacing at the pull of dried come on his belly. He just hoped he and Dean weren’t stuck together.

He managed to pry himself away from Dean’s sleep-warm body and find a washcloth in the bathroom. As he waited for the water to run hot, he studied his face in the mirror. A vampire may be immortal but that didn’t stop him from feeling old. He’d been doing this for too long.

Alone for too long. In Purgatory for too long. Even when he was with his nest, he never felt right. It wasn’t a family.
Dean though. He was family. Two lonely souls, one vibrantly alive and one damned, finding solace in each other.

He ran a hand over his face and let the cloth soak under the water for a moment. Ringing it out, he started scrubbing at his belly and didn’t hear Dean stumble in. He watched two freckled arms come around him in a hug, fingers stroking his damp hair.

“Didn’t know where you went.”

“I’m right here, sugar. Not goin’ anywhere.”




They spent the next day walking the beach until Dean started complaining about the sun. And the sand and the seashells he kept stepping on and the algae that wrapped around his ankles until Benny had half a mind to toss him in the ocean.

“For someone who just got laid, you are one hell of a grump.”

That just made him grumpier and Benny figured the only way to shut him up was to kiss him. So he did and what do you know, Dean shut right up and Benny got to enjoy the beach with his sweetheart. And all it took was a few kisses.




By the time they were back on the boat, Dean was too quiet.

“What’s wrong, cher?”

“We probably have to head back to the river, right?”

Benny shrugged, curious as to where this was going. “Eventually, sure. Why d’ya ask?”

Dean mumbled something too fast for Benny to hear. “Didn’t catch that, sugar.”

“I said I don’t want to leave.”

Benny felt his heart stop. “L- leave? You mean for good?” No. Please, no.

Dean hung his head low so Benny couldn’t see his eyes. “I’ve been gone for weeks and I should find Sam again. There’s never a shortage of things to be hunted either.”

He couldn’t say anything to that. Dean had been with him for over a month now and he was a hunter. He couldn’t just stop being who he was just because Benny wanted to keep him longer. Benny swallowed hard and nodded. “I get it, brother. You gotta do what you gotta.”

Dean gave him a pained look at that and Benny missed him already.

The trip back up the river was not nearly as pleasant as the way down, both men quiet in their own thoughts.




They reached the marina where Dean first found Benny and by the time Benny tied the boat off, Dean was stepping out of the cabin with his bag in hand. They both had shades on, hiding. Benny wished he could see those bright green eyes once more before Dean left him for good. He held a hand out.

Dean stared at his outstretched hand for a beat too long and Benny started to drop it, feeling his heart slowly shredding to pieces, but Dean grabbed it suddenly and held on tight. He was pulled into a hug so forcefully that all his breath whooshed out.

“You come back and see me anytime, brother. You hear?” He patted Dean’s back a couple of times before stepping back.

Dean nodded and leaned down to pick up his bag where he dropped it, though Benny saw his hand brush under his eye before straightening up again.

Benny tried to keep his eyes on Dean’s retreating figure as he walked up the dock and through the far end gate, but his sight was blurred with tears before Dean made it past the next boat.




He stayed another month in the marina, not really interested in traveling. Up river reminded him of Dean. Down river, too. The Gulf was out of the question entirely. So he stayed docked, trying to remember how he lived his life before he met a certain green-eyed boy.




Halfway into month two without Dean, he heard a knock on his cabin door. He wiped his hands on the dishtowel he was holding before opening the door to find a smiling Dean on the other side.

“Benny. I decided to come home.”