Purgatory is filthy, dank, exhausting perfection. Dean’s never felt so right. Eat, sleep, shit, fuck – except the fucking part; he hasn’t had an opportunity for that since he’s been here.
Still – there’s a sense of harmony, of being true, knowing you’re on the correct path. The soldier in Dean likes doing good, checking things off his list, sticking to the plan.
Benny wasn’t part of the plan – until he was. Dean’s grateful to have someone who has his back, even if it is a vamp.
Who is Dean, really, anyway? Isn’t he – he and Sam both, and even Cas – aren’t they all just animals at the end of the day? Who’s Dean to judge his comrade in arms for his less than human proclivities?
They still can’t find Cas. They keep hearing about him, missing him, just on his tail. Benny thinks the angel’s dodging them, but Dean won’t stop looking.
“’S’been a day,” Benny says as they settle for the night. They never find impenetrable shelter, and Benny doesn’t sleep, but they guard in shifts wherever they decide to rest. “Y’seem tense, brother.”
Benny notices everything – heightened senses, Dean supposes – and he doesn’t hesitate to call Dean out. Dean doesn’t know if it’s the place, the shift in his own priorities and sense of self, or just Benny, but he never hesitates to answer.
“Gotta find Cas, man,” Dean speaks quietly as he tucks himself into a darkened corner, wraps his leather jacket tight around his torso, the arsenal inside cloaking him in security and peace.
“I know, I know,” Benny replies, just as quietly. “Why don’t you catch a few winks and we take a closer look at that map we been makin’?”
Dean nods, and before he knows it, he’s lulling into sleep.
When he wakes, the light is just as saturated, just as indistinct as any other time of day or night; it never changes. Benny stares into the distance, tense and ready – stalwart, radiating strength. Dean’s always admired that strength.
Dean lets his just-out-of-dream thoughts slip and slide around his consciousness. Benny’s there, almost electric with power, deadly, graceful, stunning. These are words that Dean keeps to himself. He doesn’t say them out loud to anybody because those are words that no one else needs to know he thinks.
Benny turns his head and arches a brow. He knows he’s being watched. “How’s the nap?” he asks, slowly looking back out at the horizon.
“Same old,” Dean rasps then clears his throat, shifting in place.
“Yeah?” Benny asks, keeping his eyes out on the field. “Sure ‘bout that?”
Dean wonders… “Talkin’ in my sleep again?” he asks.
“Little bit,” Benny chuckles as he looks back to his partner. “You know…” He pauses, looking Dean’s unusually relaxed and prone form down and up. “Ain’t nothing wrong with the love of a woman.” He holds up his hands in surrender. “But I promise you, no woman can fuck you like you want right now.”
Dean exhales low and heavy, lets his long legs stretch out and fall open at the knees. “That so?”
They hold each other’s gaze for several beats before Benny looks back out and around them, scanning their surroundings. Then he nods. “Yeah,” he says, his blue eyes bleeding to almost black.
Dean rolls his neck and loosens his arms with an accompanying grin. “How do I know you ain’t gonna bite me in the throes of passion?”
Benny turns and stands. “Brother, ‘f I’s gonna bite ya, I’da done it by now.” He saunters over to where Dean remains propped in a corner, watching his every move.
“And you’re gonna fuck me how?” Dean sits up straight, pulls his knees up and open, elbows propped there. “No lube in purgatory.”
Benny smirks and kneels beside him, gripping the back of one knee and yanking until Dean’s flat on the ground. “Oh, cher, I have my ways.”
Then Benny settles over Dean’s longer, leaner body. Dean cocks his jaw and brings his knees up around Benny sides, watches Benny settle in the cradle of his hips. “So romantic,” Dean says, whipping Benny’s cap off and tossing it aside.
Benny huffs a laugh and takes Dean’s mouth slow and languid with his own as Dean pushes his fingers into his Benny’s hair, twists and pulls at the cropped sides. Then Dean drags one hand down the front, between them to hook on the collar of Benny’s t-shirt.
“Just like this, huh?” Dean asks, twisting the fabric in his fist.
Benny nods and dips in to kiss him again. From there, they’re all action and flow. Benny slides until he’s pulling Dean’s jeans open and down to his ankles, and his rigid cock into his mouth. He works Dean rough and hard, sloppy. He spits and rubs two fingers between Dean’s ass cheeks before he can crook a tip inside. He wants to make him come.
Turns out he doesn’t have to work too hard, and Dean isn’t too proud to beg, because mere minutes pass before Dean’s groaning and thrusting up into Benny’s mouth. Just before Dean comes, Benny pulls off, gathers as much of Dean’s cum as he can, uses it to mix with his own spit, pushes another finger inside his ass.
“Fuck, man,” Dean breathes, letting himself get loose, reaching for Benny.
“Nah, on your hands and knees,” Benny says. “We gon’ do this right, son.”
Dean smirks and scrambles to obey, twisting his jeans around his ankles, cursing. Then he spreads his knees as wide as the situation will allow. Benny spits again and pushes three fingers inside.
“Ahh, yeah,” Dean hisses. “Right there – fuck.”
Benny grins, retrieves his fingers, spits one last time to mix with what’s left of Dean’s cum in his palm to coat himself. Then he pushes inside, slow and slick, and Dean hangs his head on a heavy sigh.