In the merciless wilds of Purgatory it seemed natural enough, even more so with a vampire involved. They never seemed to tire in the forest, at least not to the point of collapse; and it wasn't safe to sleep anyway, with a constant presence looming from all sides, watching...
Dean and Benny made damn sure those sons of bitches got an eyeful.

That first transition from one form of violence to another was nearly seamless. When the last of the attacking vamps lay beheaded on the ground the atmosphere changed – no less urgent, no less dangerous, but somehow they knew the fight was over. They stood still for a moment, staring with eyes of stone at the bloody products of their work.

"What happens when you die here?" Dean murmured when he'd caught his breath. "Where do the souls go? Do you just... I dunno, respawn? Like a video game?"

Benny chuckled coldly, the sound dark and rich as molasses poured on ice. "Who the hell knows?" he said, and glanced sidelong at his human companion. "And who the hell cares? You're not supposed to be here in the first place. You're special. Whatever might happen to me won't happen to you."

"So you've never been beat, then."

"Nope. Not once since I got here."

"Huh."

They stared at each other for a moment, faces unreadable and covered in filth. The air changed again. Dean could hear his blood pounding through his veins just as loudly as he could hear Benny's silent, undead heart. Something stirred in the primal parts of his mind, the instinct that had taken over by necessity in these last three months. The feeling crashed over Dean just as it had when he'd turned, years ago, and suddenly he could see what a miracle it was that Benny hadn't become like his brethren, insane and rabid with bloodlust. It was a memory of a brightly painful existence, laced with power and a constant, overwhelming desire. This was how it had felt to be a vampire, a blood-sucker, and it was how Benny must be feeling right now: famished, starving, so very hungry after who knew how long without a meal.

More than that, Dean felt it, too; he understood.

"Bite me," he growled, using every ounce of self-control to keep from begging. Benny seemed surprised.

"What the hell's wrong with you, Winchester?" he asked, partly teasing but genuinely concerned. If his ticket out of Purgatory had suddenly flown over the cuckoo's nest, he was screwed for eternity. Again.

"Are you deaf, fucker? I said bite me!" Dean nearly threw himself at his ally, weapon falling to the dirt with a dull thud. The vampire only just got his blade out of the way before being tackled to the ground, impossibly strong hands gripping the collar of his shirt with iron force.

"Dean... what're you... arrrgghhh...!"

Benny couldn't help it. His fangs descended, a reflex in response to the scent of fresh meat so close. Not even fifty years of training in the universe's harshest cage match could suppress the instinct.

"That's right, I know you want me," the hunter panted, head spinning. "You need me, so come on." He shoved his head forward, exposing the slope of his neck and the pulsing jugular artery just beneath the surface. "COME ON, DO IT!"

The scent of Dean's blood was too strong, the temptation undeniable; it was all Benny could do to not tear the idiot limb from limb. Slowly, fighting desperately to keep himself in check, the vampire opened his mouth – and delicately, intimately sank his teeth into the hunter's flesh.

They groaned together, pain and pleasure more intense than anything either had felt since becoming trapped here. Benny closed his eyes in ecstasy and nursed gently at the wound he'd made, rationing himself despite his ravening hunger. Dean felt light-headed as the fire pierced his skin, but wanted more – more struggle, more contact, more something, and the urge was too strong to ignore. He forced his fingers to let go of the vampire's shirt and shifted to support himself on one arm, reaching down with the other to tear at the button of his jeans instead.

Through the soft intoxication of blood clouding his eyes, Benny noticed. He reluctantly let go of the hunter's neck, swiping his tongue to catch a last few drops of the ruby fluid leaking from the lacerated skin.

"What..?"

Dean explained by sitting back on his heels and yanking the vampire's jeans halfway down his thighs. Benny couldn't help it – he laughed.

"I oughtta drink you dry for that."

The human didn't look up from unzipping his fly. "You won't. You're into this."

"How do you know?"

"Call it a hunch."

"And you also know vampires mate for life."

Dean finally met Benny's eyes, and the look was one of pure hunger from both of them. "Good thing we're not technically alive."

He lifted the vampire's legs to press his knees back towards his chest. He was running on adrenaline and lust; reason had gone out the window the moment Cas had disappeared. Dean lifted a hand to his neck, where the bite still bled freely, and held it there until his fingers grew slick. Benny grinned invitingly.

"Don't bother," he purred as the human moved to prepare him. "I like it rough."

The tone of his voice drove Dean completely wild. The hunter touched himself instead, shuddering at the slippery heat of his own blood, and leaned forward until the reddened tip of his dick began to breach the tight entrance of the vampire's ass.

Again their exclamations were as one. Dean grimaced as he forced himself inside, grabbing the vampire's asscheek to stretch him open and leaving a gory handprint on his skin. Benny threw back his head and half-moaned, half-yowled; his fangs descended, still pink from his meal, and his fingers clawed the soil as his body protested the wonderfully agonizing intrusion.

Dean didn't think – he just pushed, again and again, each time pressing in a little further, until finally he was hilt-deep, and the heat was tighter than any whore he'd ever picked up at a bar. But he couldn't stop to enjoy it, could not physically stay his body's motion; he snarled and began to move faster, looming over Benny like a wild dog over its prey. With one hand planted in the dirt on either side of the vampire's head he could see every expression, take some sick joy in the agony twisting his scruffy face. Alastair would have been proud.

"That's right, fang, take it... nnghh... fuck, yeah..."

The friction and sweet violence commanding his limbs overwhelmed him, had become him. Everything was so simple, so pure and natural and intense: action-reaction, fight-flight, want-take, pleasure-pain. He closed his eyes, knowing instinctively that he couldn't last much longer like this.

Benny writhed underneath him, reveling in the sensations he hadn't felt since his time on Earth. It was even better than he remembered, a continuous, storming, delicious ache, filling him up with a kind of twisted ecstasy that Purgatory had never known. Dean's fresh blood gave him strength and made everything clearer; his nerves buzzed as though he were alive again. His thirst was not yet slaked, though, and as the climax built within him so too did his awareness of the human's rushing blood; it called to him, and he yearned for the taste of it as much as he longed for release.

Dean's thrusting grew stronger and harder as the tight sensation around his cock built up in his bones. He single-mindedly drove for the end, consumed with need for an orgasm that was growing fast. The point of no return came rushing up to claim him, and just as he passed it sharp teeth suddenly closed around his wrist.

The vampire's fangs easily penetrated the yielding flesh, and the hot blood flooding his mouth threw Benny over the edge. He shuddered violently as he came, muscles tensing around the hunter's dick in a way that tripled every sensation Dean was feeling, both excruciating pain and unholy pleasure. He roared into the mist that surrounded them as he reached his peak, breaking rhythm at last to plunge as far as he could and spill everything he had deep into his partner's body.

It ended as quickly as it had begun. Dean seemed to come to his senses, blinking at their conjoined forms as though he wasn't sure how they'd gotten there. Benny forced himself to let go, sheathing his fangs and letting his head fall back to the ground. His scruffy beard was stained with red, and a tiny, satisfied smile played on his lips.

Dean disengaged suddenly, the set of his shoulders betraying disgust as he cleaned himself off with the hem of his shirt. Blood still ran from the bite wounds on his neck and arm.

"Why the rush?" Benny asked teasingly as he pulled up his pants. He felt better, more present than he had in years.

"There's shit to do. Monsters to gank, portals to find," the human replied shortly. "Let's get out of here."

"Right back to the fight." Benny smirked. "Maybe you belong here after all."

"Shut up."