A/N: wrote this on a whim after having the inclination to bite a certain dwarf's bottom while I was watching The Hobbit during a lightning storm. As I wrote I thought of it more as a 'Whose Fandom is it Anyway?' than a Supernatural Fanfiction, but after I finished I realize it had to be Dean/Cas... or possibly Sam/Dean, you know, which ever tickles your wicked little pickle. It's miles shorter than what I'm used to writing, bite sized, you could say...

Darkness laid upon the room heavily as a figure skirted around the walls, almost as if it was stalking its prey. Its footfalls echoing in the quiet between crescendos of thunder. The Hunter could see the darkened shape of his prize trapped flat against the small mattress and bound to the iron frame of the bed that laid in the middle of the room. He made a noise deep in his throat sounding of unbridled need and honey on toast as visions of pearly, nearly luminescent, skin marred by the bite marks and scratches that stand out brightly with each flash of lightning. Moving toward his mark, The Hunter smiles to himself in the darkness. A wry sort of grin that was for no one but himself.

'MINE' he thinks possessively. The dingy mattress dips low under the extra weight as he bends down to run his calloused hands over his lovely pet, starting at the shoulders and sliding his hands down, slow and firm, to the newly forming scars across the other mans backside. Leaning in and sinking his teeth into an unmarked patch of skin and humming slightly, breaking through the weighty quiet and was followed shortly by the sound of thunder-drowned screams.

"In the darkness lies the truth that can only be sung while the light has left to play." The Hunter repeats the line, he knew what it meant. It was something the other man had spoken, make some sort of sweet prophecy that neither of them were willing to question. They both quietly feared that any sign of light would make what they were doing feel to real: to intmate.

He places his hand over the freshly roughed skin and his forehead soothingly between his trophys shoulderblades. Neither of the men were willing to risk the sweet release they found together for the uncertainty that comes from being honest about what they do together. The rule is unspoken, but it is a rule none the less.