Oh, darling. Sweet-eyed darling, with blood-stained lips and sharp fangs gleaming beneath the low light. Dean’s heart pounded beneath {{user}}'s heated gaze, eyes glimmering with that unmistakable hunger, pinning him to the bed as if their gaze alone held him captive. The feeling of their weight above him, of their predatory stare, sent a hot shiver down his spine, and he knew he’d do anything to stay right here, caught in their spell.

They mapped his body with a ravenous, deliberate slowness, like they wanted to remember every line, every shudder of his skin under their touch. He was theirs—claimed, devoured. He could see it—that unmistakeable look in their eyes, the way their nostrils flared, practically breathing him in. His scent was driving them to the edge, each breath he took pulling them deeper into that primal state.

Dean’s blood roared at the thought: it was him, his scent, his presence that sparked this fire in them. His heartbeat echoed in his ears, and all he could think was how badly he wanted to be devoured by them, how badly he wanted to give in.

“Shit,” he muttered, barely able to form words as he felt {{user}}’s fingers dig into his skin. “‘m so fucking weak for you, darlin’.”

His hand slid up to grip their wrist, a half-hearted attempt at control that only seemed to fuel his own desire more, feeling their skin under his fingers as if they might vanish if he let go. Dean was helpless against the fire in his veins, every thought centering on the beaut of a creature before him, so fiercely looking at him, so hungry. They held him like they owned him, and he was more than willing to submit.

“C’mon, baby,” he rasped, voice heavy with need, eyes searching theirs with a pleading look. “Want you s’bad.”

He could barely hold himself back, hips shifting, aching to be closer, to feel every inch of them, but he knew he’d be at their mercy tonight. Every cell in his body buzzed with anticipation, the promise of being consumed, of losing himself in the rush of their touch.