During the 1990s, the Winchester brothers rarely stayed in one place for longer than a week. More in the lives of our Wincestuous vampires, introduced in Sight and Circle.

Disclaimer: Supernatural is the property of Eric Kripke; Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel: the Series are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy Studies, et. al.



During the ‘90s, they rarely stayed in one place for longer than a week - a month at most.

Dean went through another one of those stages where he craved city lights, so they moved from city to city to city. Sometimes Sam missed the little towns they’d frequented before - the villa they’d lived in for almost a decade, back in Italy almost a century ago. But sometimes he didn’t mind so much. He liked the night life in the modern metropolis about as much as Dean did. The nightclubs - all those hot, human bodies packed into one place at one time. Sam liked the sight of them. The scent. Alcohol and anxiety and sex... A part of Sam - the almost somewhat human part - was disgusted by all of it. The other parts of Sam…

Well. They agreed with Dean’s perception of things.

“Fuck. That’s good,” Dean mumbled. Then he broke away, gasping a little bit - which was always funny. He’d never remember that they didn’t need to breathe. He licked his lips and his hips jutted forward.

Sam tightened the fist buried down the front of Dean’s Levis. He frowned as he felt the blood that began a slow trickle down his neck. Dean’s lips were wet and red with it. “We can’t start a-”

“I’m not starting anything,” Dean told him, nuzzling the other side of Sam’s throat. “I’m just getting a taste.” He pulled back and wagged his eyebrows, giving Sam a smirk. “For now.”

Sam snorted, then hissed when Dean’s fangs broke the skin on the opposite side of his neck.

“Shit.” Sam thrust his own hips, begging for friction from the hard thigh wedged tightly between both of his. Dean chuckled against his skin.

“Screw you,” Sam managed, though the slide of Dean’s tongue against his skin made speaking difficult.

Dean suckled at the swiftly closing wound on Sam’s throat, then wrapped one hand around the nape of Sam’s neck.

“You first, baby brother.”

He slammed his mouth and Sam’s together, and Sam - who was still wearing his human face - cried out as the impact split his lip and blood filled his mouth. Dean chased the taste of copper with his tongue, and the taste of him caused Sam to change at last. His fangs and Dean’s bumped against one another, nipped and tore at one another’s lips, as the kiss continued.

Dean flattened Sam against the alley wall at Sam’s back, making Sam work to keep his hand moving between their bodies, drawing more pants and hisses and the occasional moan from Dean’s lips. Sam thrust against Dean’s thigh almost in rhythm with the beat of the music coming from inside the club they’d just left.

When Dean’s fingers went to the button of Sam’s jeans, Sam softly growled.

“Oh, yeah.”

“Still think we shoulda spent the night at home, Sammy?”

Dean dropped to his knees unceremoniously before Sam - fangs and ridges disappearing, though his ever-present smirk remained.

“We could have…done this - ah - at home,” Sam responded, even as Dean lowered his head and Sam wound his fingers in his brother’s hair.

‘Yeah, but nobody could just walk in on us at home‘ Sam could almost hear Dean thinking it. In anyone else, perhaps that exhibitionism would have worn off after a century - but with Dean, sexual kinks never got old.

Thinking about it aroused Sam even more. Too soon he was struggling against Dean’s inhuman grip on his hips, pulsing down Dean’s throat, cursing and coming and breathing Dean’s name.

“That’s my boy,” Dean said quietly, placing a soft kiss just below Sam’s belly button.

Sam’s fingers were still tangled in Dean’s hair. He curled them and drew Dean to his feet, planting a much less gentle kiss on Dean’s lips, which now had Dean growling. Sam’s back hit brick again, this time hard enough to send up a little cloud of dust when Dean shoved him back. Dean snarled, sniffing at Sam’s skin as he tugged at the buttons of Sam’s shirt.

It wasn’t as funny to Sam when he forgot, himself, that gasping was sorta ridiculous. He writhed as Dean’s palms slid across the flat of his stomach, then his chest - pausing to pinch at his nipples before gripping his shoulders and urging him to kneel.

Dean was bare beneath his levis. Just a zipper and a button and a moment separated Sam from nipping at Dean’s flesh, directly above the waist of Dean’s jeans, and licking a line up the length of Dean’s shaft.

Dean’s fingers flexed where they bit into Sam’s shoulders.

“Fuck. Just do it, Sam. Don’t tease.”

Sam didn’t hear that often, which meant that Dean was really close. Sam fought the temptation to tease him anyway, and stretched his lips around Dean’s straining erection, swallowing it down in one fast, fierce motion. Dean made noises in the back of his throat that veered from primal, to pleading, and back again.

Sam heard another sound. Distant, but growing closer. Sam ignored it, focusing his attention on using his tongue and teeth.

“Uhn, yes, Sam…”

Dean came seconds before the sharp cry at the other end of the alley, palms and forehead pressed against the brick wall, still slowly thrusting into Sam’s mouth. When he was still, Sam pulled away, tracing one hipbone in front of him with his lips.

“Hear that?” he asked.

Dean let out another unnecessary breath, then straightened, offering Sam a hand to help him to his feet. Sam took it, eyes narrowing and changing until he could peer into the darkness of the alley and see the young women scuffling with the trio of thugs who’d chased them to that location.

Dean finished fixing his clothing as Sam re-buttoned his shirt. “Uh uh. See why I love getting out in this city? Just try getting room service that fast.” Sam rolled his eyes. Dean took a look at the humans who’d joined them in the near-darkness himself. “I call dibs on the big guy,” he added.

Sam shook his head and sighed - but, when Dean wasn’t looking, he let the corners of his lips curl into a smile.

[ end. ]