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With the light off, Dean lets him hold his hand.
His lips travel down Dean's body, positioning bruises over haphazard marks left by chairs and tables. The fingertips on his back ground him in the moment as he pleads for forever with words murmured against Dean's ear.
“I need to show you that I care.”
Dean can't see sincerity in his eyes- not with the lights off. So Seth leaves reassurance on his hips; pink imprints that will stay longer than he can. He chases down moans and deciphers whimpers, pursuing words Dean never said in the daylight.
"Tell me you love me. Tell me you’re mine.”
With the lights off, it’s easy to suspend their disbelief. Their bodies tip in precarious balance as they weave a myth that words cannot contain.
Hands reach up to Seth's chest and he pulls in closer, whispering promises to make up for the sound of steel against flesh.
Dean gasps now, words lost in a torrent of pleasure, but Seth's name a steady chant on his lips. With the lights off, it is not shrouded in venom.
Together, they fall out of balance.
Seth searches for his shoes as Dean reaches for the cigarettes.
“Turn on the lights on your way out.”