Title: 3 Times Gordon Walker Didn't Take Dean Winchester, The 2 Times Gordon Did & He Wished He Hadn't

Rating: R for language

Pairings: Dean/Gordon; Dean/Sam

Spoilers: If you don't know about Bloodlust, Hunted, Fresh Blood or Dean's deal, then yeah, this will spoil you.

Warning: adult situations, cursing, and there is one main character's apparent (and I stress, apparent) death in this one, so please, no whining about how I didn't warn you.

A/N: I'll be posting a lot this weekend. It's a fire sale. Everything MUST go. (Well, nearly everything.) I have porned. Hangs head in shame.

Gordon spotted the two boys as they walked in the door of the joint. He took one look at that gunslinger's strut, those long lashes and that full mouth, and he wanted to wreck the older brother. Ride him face first into the nearest wall, moaning and pleading.

Or get ridden.

Either way would be good.

Later on in the alley, when they doubled back on him and turned the tables Gordon was glad it was dark, so they couldn't see how happy his cock was that Ol' Green Eyes was that close.

Dean Winchester. Now Gordon had a name to go with the face.

He still wanted that face and that ass, of course. He'd never been attracted to men, not ever, but this time was different. It was dark blue electricity sparking up his spine, filling his belly with red heat, and it didn't stop, he knew it wouldn't. It made him so hard he had to pull off to the side of the road and take matters into his own hands, so to speak.

Gordon came with a jolt, panting and shivering, and he still wanted Dean's mouth.

Dean stood there leaning against the wash bowl, staring at himself in the mirror. He'd washed the vamp blood off his face and hands and now he just stared at himself.

Gordon stood by the door, taking it all in.

Dean had shown little brother exactly what he was capable of when he took that vamp's head off. It was a beautiful sight, seeing Dean standing there blood splattered, his eyes all at once hard and dangerous, but it didn't last long. Dean deflated, went all vulnerable and withdrawn when he saw Sam standing there with that ridiculous bitchface of his, radiating disapproval.

That was Dean. That was his true self. A killer, wild and glorious and fierce. All the things that Sam Winchester wasn't.

Sam was the problem, and Gordon knew it.

Dean closed his eyes and bowed his head as Gordon walked up, moved in close right behind him. Gordon very gently ran his hands over Dean's broad shoulders, down that well muscled back. Dean shuddered as Gordon's hands moved underneath that black tee shirt of his, and he didn't resist as Gordon pulled him upright, kissed the short hair at the back of his neck.

"I can't…I can't do this…" Dean stammered. Gordon knew right then and there not to press it, so he stepped back, and they both pretended that nothing had happened.

Sam wasn't around.

"He looks like the type to take a walk," Gordon said, and yeah, he hoped Sam would take a long long walk, off a pier, into the woods, right off the edge of the known world, just keep walking and never come back.

Not likely.

Gordon wanted to fuck that mouth with his tongue, deep and slow, wanted to hear Dean moan out loud. Gordon wanted to suck Dean's breath into his mouth and lick at those full lips with his tongue, run his tongue over that smooth freckled skin, dig his fingernails into Dean's hipbones as he claimed him again and again.

Dean got up and Gordon moved right with him. Dean's eyes glazed over as soon as Gordon touched his arm. Gordon turned him around, pushed him up against the wall. Gordon hiked Dean's t–shirt up and wrapped his tongue around Dean's hardening nipple.

Dean closed his eyes, tilted his head back against the wall and moaned, rough and desperate.

Someone out in the parking lot nearby slammed a car door closed, and Dean's eyes flew wide open.

"Sammy," the kid murmured out loud, and that wasn't the sound that Gordon wanted to hear coming out of that mouth.

His own name (Gordon) moaning, begging, pleading (pleasetakeme, pleasesogoodplease).

Anything but Sammy.

Dean pushed at Gordon's chest with his hands, but it was half-hearted, not much strength behind it. Dean didn't want to stop, not really, and they both knew it. Gordon bent his head and tongued the long sleek line of Dean's neck. Dean shuddered, and Gordon smiled.

Gordon had no intention of stopping, even if Sam Winchester were to walk into the room right this very moment. He wanted Sam to see Gordon and Dean all tangled up in each other, Dean wide eyed and gasping, open, not hiding.

It would be worth it just to see the bitchface on that bastard's face again, as Gordon slowly fucked his brother.

"There's no shame in wanting this, Dean," Gordon said softly. "No shame at all." He kissed and licked at the corner of Dean's mouth and Dean made a keening sound, low and desperate in his throat. Dean tasted of soap and whiskey, salt and gunpowder and all the wildness and fierceness in the world. That leather jacket of his was all hunched up around his shoulders, and Gordon dropped one hand and cupped Dean's cock through his jeans. Stroked him there, and Dean arched his back, bucked his hips, pushed into the palm of Gordon's hand.

"Dad," Dean moaned softly, and Gordon felt a little surprise at that, even as he covered Dean's mouth with his own and painted the boy's lips with his tongue.

The lock on the door clicked open just then, and Gordon damn near engulfed Dean's mouth and body with his own. Through the rustle of clothing, the sound of Dean's frantic breathing and wet mouth sounds Gordon heard a sharp intake of breath at the door.

A second or so later the door clicked shut.

Gordon smiled to himself. Dean hadn't even noticed, but Sam had.

There's a thin line between love and hate. It's blood and fear and white hot desire that twists and turns on itself.

Dean lashed out with his legs, and it was a solid hit. Gordon landed on his back, hard, and Dean was right on top of him.

Gordon expected to get his ass kicked. He didn't expect Dean's hands all over his body, unzipping his jeans, his mouth pushing insistently against Gordon's, Dean's tongue filling his mouth.


Gordon generally didn't like surprises, but this one was all right in his book. Dean took the lead, and Gordon let him. He wasn't about to stop or say no, or anything crazy or stupid like that. One minute they were fighting each other while Sam got that damn fang Lenore to safety, and now they were writhing on the floor in each other's arms. Dean licked a long hot stripe down the side of Gordon's neck, and he smirked when Gordon moaned.

Dean cracked Gordon's head back onto the floor, and everything went straight to black.

Sometime later Gordon felt the ropes tight around his chest, arms and legs. He came out of the fog slowly. He could hear Dean walking around the room, and he hated him and he wanted him all at the same time.

Gordon sat there staring at Dean, and it was his best death glare but the kid wasn't fooled one bit. He wasn't intimidated, either. Dean came over, pulled Gordon's head back and kissed him long and deep.

Gordon gasped when he came up for air. "You bastard. You're a killer just like me, Dean."

Dean smirked. He leaned down and nipped at Gordon's ear. "I may be just like you. I may not be. But you're the one tied up in the chair. Punk."

The third time was the charm. Literally.

Dean still looked dangerous tied to that chair. He wasn't afraid, not for himself, only Sam. That slight smirk on his face told Gordon that he'd catch hell if he tried to untie Dean now. That would be begging for trouble to well and truly kick his ass, but Gordon had something up his sleeve.

Or in his pocket.

He took the charm out of his pocket, palmed it in his left hand. "We still have some time, Dean. Sam's about four hours out from here, even if he hauls ass."

Dean snorted, and that was when Gordon unfurled the chain and looped the medallion over Dean's head.

Dean froze as soon as the warm bronze metal touched his skin.

He stared upwards at Gordon, his face pale, beautiful, his eyes already blown wide and disbelieving. Dean panted as Gordon very carefully dropped the triangle shaped medallion down his shirt front, pushed the metal flush against Dean's skin.

Dean moaned, deep and low, in his throat.

"What do you want, Dean? Tell me. What do you want?"


Gordon quirked an eyebrow at him.

"..pl-please…w-want y-you…"

"You want me to what?"

"..w-want you to…to f-fuck…me…t-take m-me…n-need it…"

"That's right, baby," Gordon roughly ran his fingers down the side of Dean's face. Dean leaned into the touch, whimpering, his body trembling as he leaned against the ropes. Gordon managed to grasp a handful of Dean's short spiky hair. He pulled Dean's head back and kissed him gently at first, then more roughly, enjoying the tremors and shakes in Dean's body.

Gordon untied Dean then, and guided him onto the floor.

Dean tasted as good as he looked.

Gordon ground his cock against Dean's as he sank his teeth in Dean's neck even further. Dean's eyes were closed, one of Gordon's hands cupped the back of his head, pulling him in closer, as the other hand pushed at the small of Dean's back.

God, he tasted so sweet.

God...Gordon laughed at that.

He had to stop himself from draining Dean dry. He took just enough blood to weaken the boy, just enough.

Sam Winchester lay dead on the floor behind them. There was so much blood, but Gordon didn't have any desire to feed on him. Sam's blood was tainted. Gordon could smell it, and it made his lips curl into a sneer.

Gordon wanted to go to ground somewhere else. He wanted a soft bed for the night.

And he already had Dean.

Dean was cold, and he shivered as Gordon drew the blankets around them. He knew Dean was seeing the world in a whole new light.

Dean drank greedily from Gordon's right wrist. Gordon almost smiled as he pulled his hand away, and when he kissed Dean and tasted himself in the boy's mouth, it was almost like coming home.

The sights, sounds and colors in the world overwhelmed Dean's senses, throbbed through his veins, underneath his skin, overloading his ability to think.

"What...what is all this?" Dean muttered dazedly. He sounded lost, broken, exactly the way Gordon wanted him to be. Without Sam around Dean would reach his true potential, and Gordon was only too happy to help Dean find himself.

The end of Dean's deal was months off now, and that was something Gordon would worry about when it came due. The thought of Dean sacrificing himself for his freak brother was something that made Gordon angry. He didn't want to think that about too much.

"Sssh, baby. It's all right..." Gordon whispered. Dean's eyes fluttered closed as Gordon settled in on top of him. Dean angled his throat so that Gordon could kiss and bite and lick at his skin.


"It's all right, baby. I got you," Gordon murmured softly. He bit down as Dean pushed backwards into him, and this taste was just as sweet as the first time.

The farmhouse out in the country was perfect for what Gordon had in mind. It didn't take long, and it didn't take much to get rid of Farmer John. Gordon kept Missus Farmer John alive a little longer though.

He and Dean hadn't eaten yet.

Sleeping during the day wasn't that big a change. Gordon had done it so many times during his life. No big deal. He threw his arm out, expecting to find Dean lying right beside him.

Gordon's arm hit empty air, and that was his first indication that things had gone south. Gordon's eyes jerked open, and he stared up at Dean's face.

Dean swung the ax down. It was a clean stroke, made all the more devastating by the fact that Dean was a full vamp now, at full strength.

There was a brief spike of pain, white hot and searing, as his head separated from his body. It was true what they said, that the eyes continue to see moments after the head's cut off.

Gordon watched Dean drop the bloody ax and turn away from the bed. He watched his green eyed prize walk right into the arms of Sam Winchester.


They hugged each other tightly, and when Sam angled his head down to kiss Dean on the mouth Gordon saw a flash of dark yellow in the taller boy's eyes, half hidden by those shaggy bangs of his.

There was another in the room with them, a little blonde girl dressed in a blue pinafore. She came over to the bed and looked at all the blood. She stuck out a finger and poked Gordon in the cheek. She smiled at him, and the smile even reached her eyes.

Her blank white eyes.

"Hi!" she said cheerily. "My name's Lillith. And you're screwed, Gordon."

Gordon tumbled slowly into the deep black. There was one thing he knew, always had, and he was certain of it now.

Sam was the problem. Gordon had known that all along.