Summary: Take one Spike, one Dean, add liberal amounts of tequila and stir.
A/N: Vague spoilers for SPN early S2, but nothing serious. Spike dunno John’s not around, though. My boy is never too much on the details in the heat of *cough* battle.
Disclaimer: I don’t own them, please don’t sue
Beta: Denied Heaven
The bet had found them at the second bottle of tequila. Was simple enough as bets went - if Dean won best of three, Spike was buying all the alcohol. If Spike won, he got Dean.
Had made sense at the time when Spike had explained it. Tequila is a great mediator.
“You ready to get thrashed, pal?” Dean circled the table, taking in the game. He was down to the 8-ball and it couldn’t have been a nicer shot if he was sober. He lined it up, calling it in a slurred whisper as Spike downed his drink.
Spike licked his lips, chasing the last drops of alcohol from the rim of the glass before setting it down. He almost missed the table though, his current view of Dean’s ass taking up more of his attention than should have been legal. The brunette scratched and cursed, striding over to the bottle to pour himself another shot as Spike smirked at him.
“I doubt that will help your aim there, pet.”
“Might be right, but at least this way I won’t give a shit.” He knocked back another shot of the top shelf liquor, turning around to meet Spike’s eyes. “I’m what you call a sore loser.”
Plucking the cue from Dean’s hand, Spike strode over to the table, eyes never wandering from the bright green ones following his. “That makes two of us. Looks like one of us is gonna be disappointed.”
He crouched down, eyeing the angle he wanted before setting up the pool cue with a low, deep lunge that caused a few stares in his direction. “8-ball, left corner pocket.” He inclined his head down, lips almost touching the felt as he murmured his secret weapon, taking the shot with an accuracy that only the incantation could have concocted.
The ball rolled smoothly into the target as Dean watched, jaw going slack. His look of awe quickly turned to one of anger, though, as his swimming mind slowly put two and two together.
Dean was on Spike in a second, shoving at the blonde’s chest so hard that Spike collided with the wall beyond. “That wasn’t in the rules, buddy.”
Spike chuckled, surprised at the sudden outburst. Didn’t think the guy would be that much against spending the night with him. But after all, he’d been wrong before. “Rules are meant to be broken. But please, tell me what’s gotten your skivvies bunched.”
Dean gave one more shove before taking a step back, shoulders down and chin out. “Spells. No fucking magic helping you. Christ, shoulda known you weren’t an average punk.” He stepped up into Spike’s personal space, facing off with those laughing blue eyes. “What are you? Hunter? Demon? Cuz if we have to throw down, I don’t mind taking it outside.”
This one had spirit. Knew this one was going to be a spitfire the second he laid eyes on him. Spike took a step in himself, now chest to chest with the cocky man in front of him. Could feel the thud of his heart pounding in his chest and it made him have to shift, rubbing his half-hard cock up against Dean’s hip. “I’m something else entirely, sweetheart. You’ve never met something like me.”
“I doubt that.” The fist came from out of his line of vision, bringing them both to the ground due to their proximity. But Dean was still able to take advantage of it, pinning Spike’s lower body down as the inevitable crowd formed around them, his arm rearing back for another punch.
Rolling his eyes, Spike wrapped an arm around Dean’s waist, sitting up and flipping him off easily a he stood and took a fighting stance. He rocked on the balls of his feet, gesturing towards Dean as he blew a kiss.
“C’mon, gorgeous. Show me what the big bad boy can do.”
Dean palmed one of his knives from his boot as he swayed up to standing, holding it tight to his sleeve. His first punch connected with Spike’s jaw, sending him sprawling over the railing and onto an empty table below.
That’s what did it. Seemed the owner didn’t care if you fought, just if you put the bar in danger. He jumped over the swinging door to his office at the sound of Spike’s body hitting the wood and metal, hauling him to his feet by the back of his duster as he chucked a thumb at Dean. “Get out of my bar right now, before I knock your teeth in.”
As soon as the alley doors swung shut behind them, Dean hurled himself at Spike again. But this time, Spike didn’t give him the benefit of taking the hit.
He caught the man’s fist with his hand, squeezing until Dean grunted in pain. The knife came up from Dean’s other hand, but Spike simply caught that strike at the wrist, hauling Dean into his chest to spin them and flatten the man against the cool, grimy brick.
“Seem to remember the stakes of our bet…Dean, was it?” He pinned both of the boy’s hands to the wall, squeezing steadily until the bones creaked and Dean could do nothing but let go of the knife with a ground out sigh. “If I recall correctly, I got you if I won best out of three. Ready to pay up?”
Dean went to kick out his legs, but Spike only wedged his knee between his thighs, pressing in and making the brunette freeze. He’d already been turned on during the game, watching Spike stalk him and the table as he told himself over and over not to just say fuck it and throw the game. But the arousal had held on through the fight, all the blood pumping making him even harder than he already was. Spike pushed his thigh in tighter, making Dean’s eyes roll back, head tilting to the side as the blonde nuzzled into his throat, tongue dragging against his throbbing pulse.
The slight chill that came with Spike’s face, his tongue laving his skin, brought everything together in Dean’s mind. “Vampire. You’re a fucking Vampire
? Shit!” He redoubled his efforts to get away, but it only achieved more friction to the front of his pants. His struggles quickly changed into movements that had nothing to do with freedom and all about his aching dick, despite the screaming commands from his brain. “You picked the wrong guy to fuck with.”
Spike looked up from his work, blinking slowly. “Oh, really? Terrified in my bleedin’ boots here. Besides,” he rolled his hips, smiling sinfully as Dean moaned and arched back. “I think you’re just the guy to fuck tonight.”
He spun the brunette against the wall, pressing his hips to the brick as he rocked his hips against Dean’s hips. The guy’s ass was close to fucking perfect, round and firm and Spike had been digging his nails into his palms the whole night not to just shove the man down onto the table and just plow into him. But this was just as good, if not better. Feeling those muscles bunch and flex under his hands as kneaded those hips, he plastered himself to Dean’s back to nip and tease at his nape, purring loudly as he went to undo his pants.
The world spun a minute after Spike whirled him around, Dean’s cheek resting against the cool stone. Felt amazingly comfortable, but he knew he had other things to do. Then he could go sleep this Cuervo 1800 off and go pass out for a day. But then there were insistent teeth scraping along the skin just at the back of his hairline and he shuddered, head falling forward to rest against the rough brick again.
He swallowed, sucking in a deep breath as he tried to get hold of himself again. “If you want any chance at all, you need to step away, now.”
Spike stilled his hand on his fly, leaving the button undone as he pulled Dean up against his chest. “Dean…you’re one of those Winchesters I heard about back in LA, right?” He ran his hand down the center of the man’s chest, rocking his hips back and forth in a motion that had the Dean forget all about what he’d been saying a moment before. “Well pet, I’ve heard loads about your little brood. Quite a little slaying operation you and yours have.” He leaned into Dean’s ear, not missing the shiver of arousal that ran through the man’s body. “But I’ve got news for you…”
“I’ve never met a predator I didn’t like.”
Dean’s eyes shot wide with that. He had never had a demon call him a predator. But it was the truth, he hunted things like Spike down, his job was besting the things that went bump in the night. And now this one had not only gotten the drop on him, but he found himself pressing back and practically offering up his neck for the fucker.
He was never touching a drop of alcohol again if he survived this. It was what he was blaming all this on. Because instead of fighting for his life, his current logic was that if Spike still had blunt teeth, he was still ok. Could hang out another minute or two. Knew it was the worst logic in the world, but he just couldn’t push past it.
Even when Spike sank his flat, white teeth into the column of his neck, making him jump and cry out as he heard the hiss of a zipper being undone.
“That’s a boy,” Spike hummed into the shell of his ear, his fingers dancing to the front of his jeans. He made quick work of Dean’s fly, hooking his thumb into the loose denim to work it over those slim hips. “Know just what to do when you’re caught, yeah?”
“Fuck you,” Dean spat, but he still gasped and bucked as Spike wrapped a hand around him through his boxer briefs. Felt the elastic band getting stretched down over his skin, squirming to get it to stop even as Spike’s hand slid into his underwear, pumping him at a maddeningly slow pace.
Spike’s mouth watered at the sight of this man, not an ounce of fat on his body, strong, quick, writhing in his hands. It was heady to see a demon hunter like this one try not to react to the hand on his throbbing dick, the hard pressing rhythm of his hips on his. “No shame in being the one getting buggered, pet. If I give you my word you’ll live, would you stop fighting?”
Dean found his breath going shallow, jerking as Spike’s thumb played with the head of his cock and his teeth nibbled along the sensitive skin on his throat. “Sorry, not my nature. Figure you understand that.”
Those teeth nipped sharp, Dean’s dick jumping in Spike’s hand as his hips instinctively ground back against the blonde’s. “Exactly what I want to hear.”
The hand on his dick disappeared and Dean had to swallow the groan in his throat. It was only gone for a second, though, returning once his briefs were pulled over the round swell of his ass. He shivered, not entirely from the cold, and Spike returned with a growl that sent shivers up his spine.
A rough hand pushed his shirt up to his shoulder blades, nails slicing down his back as he felt those hips return, naked, hard cock bumping and sliding against the curves of his ass. He flattened his palms against the wall, looking over his shoulder as he gathered up the last bit of resistance he had. If they were going to do this, it had better be good. “Don’t even think about just ramming that in.”
“Relax, pretty boy, I’m not gonna hurt ya.” He jacked his dick a couple times, palm getting slick. Once he decided he had enough to get him through, he placed two fingers right where he wanted most, pushing in slow enough to get Dean practically shaking with the urge to move, but not enough to do more than just set off a intense, steady burn that seemed to radiate through the young man’s body.
God, it was the most exquisite pain Dean had gone through. Made him suck in harsh breath after harsh breath, push himself back onto that hand for more. Once it found that small bundle of nerves inside, though, it was over. No more pain, only a violent need to get more, feel more, do whatever it took. Needed a good, hard fuck. Right the hell now.
Spike bit down on his lip as he pulled his hand free, pressing his dick up to that twitching entrance. “Oh fuck pet, you’re gonna feel so damn good on my dick.”
“Wouldn’t know, you haven’t done a damn thing yet.” He fisted his hands on the brick, jaw twitching. “Just get the fuck on with it.”
“Demanding little brat, aren’t ya?” Spike snickered as Dean’s hips started to restlessly twitch and flex under his hands, wanting to push down on the blunt pressure right at his entrance. Done with the teasing Spike finally pushed in, mouth falling open in a silent curse as he felt that tight, clenching heat envelop him, sucking him in hungrily.
Dean couldn’t help but moan, head falling back as Spike’s face buried itself in his neck. Felt too damn good, that pleasant burn back as Spike pushed farther and farther inside. He tried to relax, let the pace work for him, but he was already too hard for words and slammed his fist against the wall in frustration.
Spike could feel the tension radiating off the tan body in front of him, knew what it needed. Was just what he needed. Set his hands on both hips, mumbling rushed words in Dean’s ear as he pulled back, only the tip of him still seated inside that amazing sheath. “Gonna put it to ya, Winchester. Think you’re up for it?”
“You’d be surprised what I can survive,” he growled, head falling to brace himself. “Fuck me already.”
That was all Spike needed to drive into the hilt, holding Dean against his hips as the other man dug his nails into the wall. “Stay right there, pet, like you just where you are.” He wrapped a hand around one of Dean’s shoulders, holding him in place as he set a steady, brutal pace.
Dean gritted his teeth, feeling Spike bury himself to the hilt. It stole his breath, made his muscles shake with the sensation. He was already so close to coming, but he was wanting to hold out if only for a little longer. After all, could quite possibly be his last few moments on earth, better make the best of them. Figured he’d be dying young anyway. This was a much more agreeable way of going than what he’d pictured in his head.
Spike was already a hair’s breadth away from coming but he wasn’t about to have it be over this quickly. Wanted to see the man in front of him shudder and come for him, cry out as Spike buried his fangs in that long, corded neck. He drove home, rubbing across that swollen spot deep inside and grinned darkly at the hard tremble he got as he ran over and over it. “Want to see you fall apart for me, little demon hunter. Want to see you come just from my dick.”
Dean sneered and pushed his body back, knocking Spike’s rhythm off with a choked laugh. “You want me to come, you better give me some help here.” His dick felt like it was going to explode if something didn’t happen soon, the hard length swaying painfully between his legs. “Sorry to bruise your ego.”
Snarling, Spike shifted, fangs dropping as he pulled Dean up against his chest again. He curled his hips under on every stroke now, going that much deeper, that much harder, into Dean’s willing body. Dean choked back a cry of surprise and a moan of relief as Spike wrapped his cool hand around his blazing hot flesh, jacking hard as he slammed into the other man with vicious force.
“Come on then, been overly generous with you. Let it go and really give it to me, want to feel you.” Felt the first ripples of muscle around his dick, making his mouth drop open, eyes locked on the throbbing pulse just under the skin.
Those fangs slid into his neck and all Dean saw white, the orgasm hitting him so hard he lost track of everything. No idea who he was, what was going on, only the painful pleasure as Spike tore the climax from him in wave upon endless wave.
Each draught of blood that coated his throat made Spike pulse and thrust in, wanting to come as deep as he could in the fluttering clench of Dean’s body. Held the man tight to his chest as he drank, each pull bring fresh, jerking spasms from the hard, firm body pressed to his.
White turned to grey in Dean’s vision and then the pressure he hadn’t even realized was at his neck vanished, head lolling bonelessly forward as Spike withdrew from his neck and lapped at the wound. He felt wrung out, weak.
And like he’d had the best fuck of his life.
Spike slid from that hot body in his arms with a mournful sound, hating that it was over. But it had been mind-fuckingly brilliant regardless. And a hunter of all things, what were the odds.
It was always the things that were bad for you that tasted the best.
He propped Dean against the wall, leaving him disheveled with his pants around his knees as Spike fastened up his own. Straightened his shirt and fished in his pocket for his smokes, not offering one to the limp figure against the alley wall.
“Be seein’ you around mate, was a good time.” He flicked his lighter shut as he turned to leave, pausing a moment to lean forward and press his cheek to Dean’s flushed jaw.
“Must do this again sometime.”
With a final flat lick to the trickling bite mark on Dean’s throat, Spike headed off with more than a little spring in his step. Had been just what he needed, that one. Would definitely have to pay more attention to the Winchesters and their whereabouts from now on. And if Dean had been this fucking incredible, who knew what the rest of the crew was like with the proper persuasion.
Dean finally came back to reality a moment later, yanking his shorts and pants up so he wasn’t half-naked in the alley. He made his way slowly to the Impala, feeling as if he’d just been in a pretty nasty fight.
Didn’t usually feel so buzzed and lightheaded after a fight, though.
He slid in the driver’s seat, taking a look at the bite in the rearview. It was clean, amazingly precise given the situation they’d been in. Guess when you live a couple hundred years, your aim gets to be pretty damn good.
Slumping against the seat, he sat in the silence, listening to his breath and the rustle of fabric as his chest rose and fell. His head still too fuzzy to really think on what he’d just done. Figured that was probably for the best.
The engine roared to life and he pulled out onto the street towards the motel. Sammy was probably fast asleep by now. Thank God for small favors. Could slide into the room, dress the wound and say he got in a fight, got some broken glass to the shoulder.
Soon the familiar rumble of the Impala’s engine soothed his disquiet mind and he gave himself over to the road, eyes heavy. He was alive, got to fight another day. Maybe one day he’d even get the chance to stake the son of a bitch.
And just maybe that one day, it would be the last thing on his mind.