Daily Deviant
- there is no such thing as 'too kinky'
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9th January 2018 08:57 - FIC: Red as Wine (and Twice as Heady) (Dean/Seamus, NC-17)
Title: Red as Wine (and Twice as Heady)
Author: [info]gracerene
Characters/Pairings: Dean Thomas/Seamus Finnigan
Rating: NC-17
Kinks/Themes Chosen: Bloodplay
Other Warnings/Content: Established relationship, creature!fic, vampires, anal sex, bloodplay, light D/s dynamics, some praise!kink
Word Count: ~1,520
Summary/Description: There are hundreds of synonyms for red, and Dean knows them all.
Author's Notes: This was my first time writing this pairing beyond a super short drabble, so I hope I did them justice! Thanks to [info]capitu and [info]ravenclawsquill for their help in whipping this fic into shape! <3

Blood was smeared across Seamus's throat, red as wine and twice as heady. It dripped from his pale neck, pooling in the divots of his collarbones, sliding inexorably down, down, down with the force of gravity, aided by Seamus's fluid movements. Dean wanted to stretch up and lick it off him, lap the sticky sweetness from Seamus's skin, but it wouldn't do to be greedy. Seamus had already let him have a taste, had tilted his neck so sweetly and offered up what Dean had so desperately desired. Now, though, it was Seamus's show, and Dean knew that if he could be patient, Seamus would reward him.

Seamus moaned above him, his eyes squeezing shut in ecstasy as he managed to get the angle just right. Seamus was always beautiful, but Dean had always thought he looked especially breathtaking when he was riding Dean's cock, taking his pleasure from Dean's body. Dean had been worried, at first, that this desire would fade with the change, replaced by other, deeper, hungers. Thankfully, that didn't appear to be the case. Dean's thirst was undeniably powerful, but his need for Seamus—for Seamus's body, his love, his companionship—hadn't left him. Dean was just as captivated as ever.

"Fuuuck, that's good," Seamus half moaned, half sighed as he swivelled his hips. Dean couldn't disagree. The tight heat around his cock, the sharp, sweet scent of Seamus's blood in the air, the lingering taste of it in Dean's mouth—all of it was more than enough to make Dean purr in satisfaction. Seamus smiled, smug and coy all at once—his cat-that-got-into-the-cream grin—as he ran his fingers across Dean's broad chest and looked down at him with heavily lidded eyes. "Yeah," he moaned. "You're so fucking good for me, baby. Am I good for you?"

Dean nodded, his tongue thick and gums itching. It was harder to control himself when they were like this, when Seamus was open and eager, smelling like sex, and desire, and food. It was difficult to prevent his fangs from dropping, entwined together so intimately as they were, the hot rush of blood pumping through Seamus's veins in a hypnotic beat. He clamped his mouth shut, worried, as he always was, that maybe this would be the time that Seamus caught sight of them and came to his senses.

Of course, Seamus never had been all that sensible.

"None of that now, Dean," Seamus chided softly. "You promised."

It had been hard, or hard</i>er</i>, rather, when he'd first been turned. Dean had been filled with fear and self-loathing, had been terrified of hurting Seamus, of losing him. Everything had come to a head eventually, and Seamus had done his very best to reassure Dean that he wasn't going anywhere. In return, Seamus only asked that Dean start working on forgiving himself for what had been done to him against his will, that he begin accepting himself as he was now. It was more difficult than it sounded.

"I—" Dean couldn't manage the words, didn't know how to give voice to the maelstrom inside.

Seamus's smile was sweetly understanding. "I know, baby. You're trying. I think you deserve a reward."

The nails of Seamus's left hand scratched down Dean's chest, before he raised his fingers to the two puncture marks at his throat. The small wounds were still oozing trails of ruby red, but the flow was slow and sluggish, the blood beginning to gel and coagulate. Seamus dragged the pads of his fingers roughly over the cuts, his breath catching and arse clenching at what was no doubt a painful manoeuvre. Dean felt a frisson of guilt at causing the man he loved even an ounce of discomfort, but then Seamus's fingers parted from his neck, glistening with fresh blood, and every last bit of Dean's attention lasered in on the crimson digits.

Seamus swiped his bloodied fingers across Dean's lips, and Dean's tongue chased the taste like a parched man after a glass of water. He dimly registered Seamus's satisfied hum as Dean opened his mouth and revealed a flash of his elongated fangs, but mostly he was focused on the tantalizing tang of blood. Seamus rubbed the tip of a still-wet finger down the smooth front of Dean's left fang, following it down to the razor sharp point.

God, he was fearless, his Seamus, staring down into the eyes of a monster with nothing but love, carelessly placing his veins so close to Dean's teeth and trusting him not to bite. Sometimes Dean wondered how far that love and bravery would extend—if one day Seamus would use his final breath to pardon Dean for the unforgivable.

Dean blinked and pulled himself back from the edge. He'd promised Seamus he would work on keeping this new maudlin side of his at bay, and now was hardly the time for depressing ruminations, not when he had Seamus's arse around his cock and Seamus's blood in his mouth.

"There you are," Seamus said with a grin as Dean brought his attention back to him. Fuck, he was beautiful, his brown eyes glazed with lust, that sandy hair damp with sweat, his skin flushed rosy pink with blood. Dean's gaze roamed possessively over Seamus's body, before sticking on his neck. Seamus's actions earlier must have reopened the cuts that had been beginning to close, and more blood had trickled out of the marks on his throat. Dean knew the lesions were small, but with scarlet smeared across Seamus's throat and collarbone, and trails of cerise dripping down his chest and shoulder like lines of wax, it looked like he'd been savaged. But Seamus wasn't complaining: he was grinning and panting as he rocked his hips, his cock flushed and leaking as it slapped against Dean's stomach.

"You need to make me come now, babe," Seamus commanded in a low, breathy tone. "Make me come and then you can have another taste."

Dean groaned before bracing his feet against the bed and starting to thrust up into Seamus's eager body. Seamus laughed, then whined, as Dean fucked him with short, quick jabs of his hips, just the way Seamus liked it. He knew Seamus was close when his breath shortened to quick, staccato beats and his fingers curled helplessly against Dean's chest. Dean reached up to wrap a hand around Seamus's cock, wanking him and fucking him until Seamus came with a shouted, "Fuck," and spilled over Dean's chest.

The pearly white of Seamus's spend gleamed bright against Dean's dark skin, and Seamus looked down at him with obvious satisfaction. Dean knew Seamus loved marking him like this, and it had never been any hardship for Dean to give him that. Especially not now, when the bright vermillion of Seamus's blood against his own skin called out to Dean like a siren to a sailor.

Seamus caught Dean’s gaze, his mouth curled in lazy contentment, his eyes heavy with fulfilled pleasure. He glanced away to stare down at his body, bringing up a fingernail to pick absently at a bit of dried blood on his nipple. Seamus shuddered as he scraped it off, before looking back at Dean with joyful challenge on his face, unblinking in the face of the ravenous hunger that was no doubt evident in Dean's own expression.

"Go on, then," Seamus murmured, his voice low and sultry. "Take your fill. You've earned it, lover."

Dean sat up, dislodging his still-hard cock from Seamus's arse with a small pang of regret. He'd come later, with his teeth buried in Seamus's body. Seamus hummed in Dean's lap as Dean began to lick at the sanguine streaks along Seamus's chest, his tongue rasping against Seamus's skin. He tasted sweat and Seamus and life and blood, bright and sharp, singing across his tongue. His entire body buzzed at the tease, anticipation sparkling through him like champagne bubbles as he eagerly made his way to Seamus's neck.

"You're so good to me, sweetheart," Dean mumbled against Seamus's skin as he began to lave at his earlier punctures.

"I know. But you're good to me, too. We're a team, you and me."

"Yeah," Dean breathed, his fangs itching with the need to bite down, to sink into the malleable flesh in front of him and take what was being so sweetly offered. "Love you."

"Of course you do," Seamus replied, and Dean could practically hear the grin in his voice. "I love you, too. Now stop being so sappy and bite me already."

Dean grinned against Seamus's throat, and bit.
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