The lights were blinding as Dean stumbled into his seedy motel room. He could hear every car horn, every tick of the clock, every single drop of water in the plumbing. Sam was gone, out searching for a cure. He had left Dean to the confines of his room until his situation was sorted.

Dean slumped against the desk, showering the floor with papers and empty beer bottles. He'd kill for a drink. He reached for the bottle of whiskey and took a healthy swig. Almost immediately, it was sprayed across the carpet. Dean dry heaved, trying to get the taste out of his mouth. He was thirsty.

He cupped his hands under the tap in the bathroom, filling with water. He rolled it around in his mouth, seeking relief and finding none. The water painted itself on the mirror. Behind the streaks the drops left behind, Dean looked at himself. He looked like shit. He bared his teeth, seeing them sharpen and extend before his eyes. He whimpered and stumbled back, only to run into something soft, warm, and unrelenting.

"Cas?" he mumbled, blinking up at the angel. Castiel tilted his head quizzically at him. Dean's teeth worked their way from behind his lips and Castiel's eyes widened. It was a mark of their bond that he didn't back away.

"Cas, I need help," Dean whined, falling to his knees, finally.

"I cannot help you with this, Dean," he replied, falling to his knees to be on Dean's level. "But trust Sam." Castiel brought his hand to Dean's chin and pulled his face up. Dean hesitated a moment before nodding. The corner of the angel's mouth raised slightly in an awkward grin.

"But for now," Castiel began, loosening his tie, "I can help with the pain." He unfastened the first few buttons on his shirt, revealing a vast expanse of pale white skin, stretched taut over a well defined clavicle. The tendons in his neck were stretched thin like strings on a violin. Unconsciously, Dean licked his lips. Something Sam had said before clicked into place in his drugged brain.

"I can't," Dean moaned, subtly moving forwards. "If I drink, the cure won't work."

"My blood doesn't count," Castiel simply said. "It's just an illusion."

And that was all Dean needed to hear.

Dean's hands were in the angel's hair, pulling it to the side to get a better angle. He hesitated for just a moment, taking everything in. In the sudden movement, Castiel had grabbed Dean's waist, digging his nails into the man's side. The angel's chest was moving hurriedly, his breath coming in ragged gasps, unsure of what was about to happen to his vessel. And subsequently, to him. Dean inhaled deeply, smelling copper pulsing beneath the millimetres of dermis.

Castiel didn't know what to expect when he gave the pseudo vampire permission to feed on his blood. He knew there would be pain. Maybe some awkwardness between them. What he had not expected at all was a raging erection.

Dean's newly acquired teeth sunk into the soft flesh at Castiel's neck, penetrating it easily. The angel sucked in a breath through his teeth, drawing little lines on Dean's skin that pearled red.

Blood flowed into Dean's mouth and down his throat. His eyes rolled and his fingers clenched harder. He thought he felt a few hairs rip out but the thought was pushed from his mind when he heard his angel barely murmur, " more." Dean groaned and renewed his mouth's grip. A fresh wave of blood cascaded down Castiel's side, Dean being unable to swallow it all. Castiel threw his head back, his eyes screwed shut, mouth open in a silent scream. Dean unlatched himself from the angel's neck and gasped for air, his pupil's blown.

"Cas?" he asked quietly, "you alright?"

Slowly, painfully, Castiel brought himself back to the conversation and fixed Dean with an unreadable gaze. Dean's face was covered in blood, dripping down his chin and neck, staining his shirt. His hands had released their grip on the angel's hair and were now floating, unsure, at his sides.

Castiel grabbed Dean by his neck and stood them both up before throwing him against the wall. "Don't tell me you're already sated," he growled.

Dean let out a guttural moan, launching himself at the angel. Castiel's neck was a ragged wound, torn skin and blood stained. They fell back onto the creaky bed, mouths locked in a frantic kiss. Steadily, their clothing was removed, bit by bit, until the two men were completely naked, wrapped around each other. Dean's hand had found its way back to the angel's hair, pulling on it madly, seeing how far the tendons could be strained. They looked delicious.

Unsure about anything in his life right now, Dean allowed himself to snake one of his hands down between Castiel's thighs and tried to work the, most likely virgin, vessel open. For the first time since they began, Castiel broke his lips away and threw his head back, letting out the most primitive, thunder like moan. Dean applied more pressure, relishing in the noises he was helping create. Castiel bucked against his fingers, grabbing the headboard behind him.

That's probably enough, Dean thought, and if it wasn't, fuck it. He'll get over it.

Dean withdrew, chuckling darkly at the disappointed groan Castiel gave him. He lined himself up and in one motion, buried himself in the angel. A scream tore out of Castiel's throat, rough and broken, but he clawed at Dean's back wildly just the same. Automatically, Dean's fangs drew themselves out at the sight of the man writhing beneath him, skin like alabaster and almost glowing white in the yellowing street lamps that filtered in through the dingy windows.

Dean found himself at Castiel's neck again, sucking and licking away at streams of blood that tried to escape. He began to move, slowly, then picked up his pace. Castiel moved underneath him, matching the steady rhythm with his hips. He dragged his nails furiously against Dean's back, urging him to go faster. Dean almost stopped his purge to cry out, but chose instead to speed up, his motions becoming more and more erratic. He sat up quite suddenly, pulling the angel up with him so Castiel was in his lap. Dean circled his arms around him, thrusting fiercely again while biting at his chest. With a strangled cry, Dean peaked, pulling his angel as close as he could get, his teeth locked over the skin that covered his heart. A few seconds later and Castiel was right there with him, his fingers all but embedded in the shredded mess of Dean's back. Then they just sat there, wrapped up in each other, panting and sweating. Blood covered most of their bodies and the bed underneath.

And that was how Sam found them.