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À Bon Coeur

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It’s the third time Dean's sneaking out of the motel room to meet Benny, leaving Sam snoring in bed, doped up on pain meds. They’ve been in this tiny town in Louisiana for almost two weeks while their dad is out hunting; he’d given Dean a wad of cash and the keys to the Impala and taken off in his truck, telling Dean it was going to be a long hunt and he’d call and check in. So Dean’s paid for the room and kept them fed, acting more like a responsible adult at seventeen than his father does most of the time.

Dean parks the Impala outside of the diner where Benny cooks and tries to get his hands to stop shaking. The adrenaline is more than just the thought of seeing Benny again. He’d smoke if he had any cigarettes, but he just strides inside and sits at the counter, still trying and failing to calm himself.

“Hey there, sugar.” Benny comes over, wiping his hands on the apron tied around his waist. His sleeves are rolled back, baring thick, downy arms, and a thin sheen of sweat covers the exposed skin of his collarbone where his shirt stretches unbuttoned across his broad chest.

“Need a drink, whatever you got.” He pulls cash from his pocket, sets it on the counter, and tries to focus on the bills.

“Nice try, but you and I both know you’re years from bein’ old enough to drink in here,” Benny says with a grin that fades as he looks closer at Dean. He studies the boy’s smooth face, eyes lingering on the lush lips that he’s only seen curved upward in pleasure but are now held tight in a sober line.

“You know what, never mind, it’s on me.” His large hands take Dean’s wrist and turn his hand, setting the crumpled bills back in Dean’s palm and wrapping his fingers around Dean’s as he closes the boy’s hand around the money. “Be right back.”

Benny disappears into the back, then reappears with two bottles in his hand, apron exchanged for his black cap. “Let’s sit ourselves down somewhere more private and you can tell me what’s put that look on your face.”

Dean doesn’t say a word, just nods and follows Benny outside and around the back to sit in dented folding chairs situated among a litter of cigarette butts outside the back door. Benny twists open the bottles and hands one to Dean, taking a deep pull from his own.

“Now tell me what’s got you so worked up, kid.”

Dean glares up at him, his eyes shifting from despair to irritation in a blink. “I’m not a kid, I’m seventeen fucking years old.”

Benny just smirks and takes another drink. “Sure, peach fuzz, whatever you say.”

Dean opens his mouth to complain, but Benny cuts him off with a lazy wave of his hand. “All right, all right, you’re seventeen and a grown man. You come all this way to complain about that?”

“I came here for a drink. But if you’re just gonna make fun of me-” Dean tries to keep him voice steady, but the panic and anxiety crest in a waver in his tone, one Benny can’t fail to notice.

“Hey now…” Benny leans forward, cupping Dean’s smooth, warm cheek in his palm. Dean freezes and falls silent, eyes wide and startled, lips falling open as he inhales a sharp breath. But Benny doesn’t pull away, simply lets his thumb caress Dean’s cheekbone and watches those wide eyes. The curve of Dean’s face fits small and perfect into Benny’s large hand.

They’ve talked and flirted the other times Dean’s come in late at night, but that’s all, even if Dean’s gone home and jerked himself off to the thought of digging his fingers into those thick, muscled shoulders as Benny slides into him, imagining how different it must be from the stretch of his own fingers. This touch is meant to be comforting, but there’s more behind the gesture. It’s an intimate, soothing caress and an unspoken question neither feels he can ask.

“It’s, uh, my brother,” Dean manages to say, the words coaxed out of him by the hypnotizing blue of Benny’s eyes and the slow brush of his thumb. “He got hurt.”

Dean’s told Benny a little about his family, and he know what Sam getting hurt means. “I’m guessin’ you told your daddy and he didn’t take the news well?”

That hard, angry look comes back to Dean’s eyes and he pulls away, fists clenched as he takes another swig of beer. “It’s not my friggin’ fault that that Sammy trips over his own damn feet. I took him to the doctor and got him his pain meds, even though I don’t want to be his babysitter. I don’t wanna be stuck in the middle of fucking nowhere while my dad’s off working, leaving me here like I’m some kid that needs to be protected. I know what I’m doing, and I’m good at it, and he treats me like I’m five years old!”

The disappointment in John’s voice had cut Dean the most, making him feel like he was five and had just spilled something, made some mess like a child who didn’t know any better. Like his dad thinks he needs just as much looking after. But Dean’s an adult; he looks after Sammy and takes care of them.

He buries his face in his free hand, trying to hide the tears in his eyes from Benny, who probably thinks the same thing. What could he see in some skinny, awkward teenager with a crush? Dean sighs behind his fingers, waiting for the patronizing tone and the pity.

“That ain’t fair to you Dean, that’s certain. But it sounds like your brother couldn’t ask for someone better than you to keep an eye on him. You’re a special one, I can tell.”

Dean slides his hand away. “Special, huh?” He snorts, unconvinced.

He wants to think that there’s more to the words that Benny’s saying, when it sounds like he’s trying to both comfort him and give the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech, to warn him away. The torrent of emotions inside him is tangling with hormones that are screaming out for the man sitting so close nearby, and his teenage body is convinced that sex is the way to work out the anger and confusion and frustration. It’s not his brain he’s thinking with when he suddenly leans over and presses his mouth to Benny’s, lips parting just slightly in a silent gasp at the feel of rough stubble and the throbbing ache that’s materialized in his groin.

After a few moments, Benny grips Dean’s shoulders and manhandles him away, holding him at arm’s length. Dean licks his lips, chasing the faint taste of Benny clinging there, as his heart pounds in terror and excitement and shock at his own daring.

“This ain’t a good idea, Dean. I’m too old for you, we can’t-”

“-why not?” Dean strains against the strong grip keeping him from kissing Benny again like he wants to. “I’m seventeen, it’s legal, and I want to.”

Benny watches him, eyes flickering over Dean’s face and lingering just a touch too long on the soft, plump curve of his mouth. His next words aren’t what Dean was expecting.

“Have you ever even done this before? With someone else? I know you’re all wound up right now and looking for a way to work that out, kid-”

Dean finally yanks himself free of Benny’s grip, anger blazing in his eyes as he stands up, a young, wild, gorgeous creature. Benny doesn’t move, only lets him free and watches with the slightest hint of bemusement hiding at the corners of his mouth. But then Dean growls, “I know what I want,” and leans over Benny, yanking him up by the front of his shirt to deliver a far filthier, hotter kiss. Benny doesn’t resist this time - it’s impossible, with Dean lapping at the seam of his mouth until their tongues meet in a wet, warm slide.

Dean’s the one who finally pulls away, cherry-mouthed and panting. He straightens up and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes still hard and angry.

“You change your mind and decide to stop pretending you don’t want me just as bad, you know where to find me.” He doesn’t know where the guts to do any of this came from, but he knows if he stops to think about it, he’ll lose his nerve, so Dean simply turns and walks away while he can still pretend he’s in control.

Benny just chuckles quietly as Dean stomps back to the Impala. He finishes his beer slowly, savoring the bitter taste while he thinks.



Two nights later, there’s a quiet tap on the motel room’s door. Dean glances over to Sam, who’s fast asleep, and slips his gun out from under his pillow. But he tucks it away again in the waistband of his jeans when he glances through the peephole and sees Benny.

“What are you doing here?” he hisses when he’s stepped outside and pulled the door closed behind them.

“Came to see you.” Benny replies nonchalantly, hands buried in his pockets while he looks down at Dean with mirth in his eyes.

“Are you crazy? Sammy could see you, my dad could have been back,” Dean gripes, trying to pretend he isn’t happy to see Benny in person after two more nights of fantasizing.

“Still riled up from the other night, looks like.” Dean just glares at him and waits. There’s a beat or two of tense silence, then Benny surprises Dean yet again. “You change your mind?”

Dean opens his mouth to ask About what? but then it hits him. Oh. Oh.

He sidles closer, encroaching on Benny’s space until he’s standing close enough to feel the warm puff of breath against his upturned face. “Did you?” he rasps out, his dick already hardening in his jeans at the thought.

Benny holds up a key with the same motel key chain as the one Dean has in his own pocket. He smirks at the look on Dean’s face and dangles the key in front of him. “I thought I’d make it easy for you…if you’re sure about this.”

Dean swallows thickly, lightheaded from the rush of blood downward. “Yeah,” he says, voice ragged. “Yeah, I am.”

He follows Benny to a room across the motel from the one he’s sharing with Sammy, heart pounding as he contemplates the fact that he’s actually about to do this. But it isn’t only nerves that have his body trembling, it’s anticipation - a flutter of desire that he sees mirrored in Benny’s eyes as the man leans down to cup Dean’s face in one hand and pull him closer by the waist with the other, kissing him with gentle intent.

Then Benny’s mouth leaves his to press just under Dean’s ear, the scrape of his beard making Dean groan. He grips Benny’s forearms and tilts his head, leaving more skin exposed for wet kisses. But then the warm, damp pressure is gone as Benny pulls away.

“You never answered my question, the other night. You ever done this before, with someone else?”

Dean bites his lip, can feel his cheeks heating in embarrassment at his own inexperience. “Uh, no. But I-”

He doesn’t get a chance to finish before Benny’s plundering his mouth again with that thick, forceful tongue, sending sparks of heat straight to his dick. The next time Benny pulls away, long minutes later, it’s to nip at the boy’s smooth jawline and maneuver him backwards. The back of Dean’s legs hit the bed and he sprawls across the comforter as Benny kneels between Dean's splayed thighs and reaches callused hands to strip off Dean's t-shirt. He runs his palm down Dean’s bare chest, collarbone to ribs to the sparse trail of hair peeking out from pants that aren't loose enough to hide the thickened curve of Dean's dick.

Benny’s eyes spark with lustful approval that has Dean feeling oddly proud. He leans in and steals more kisses, grabbing Benny's suspenders tightly to stay upright. He tugs them off Benny's shoulders and pulls at the hem of his henley but can't bring himself to stop the deep, filthy exploration of Benny's mouth. Benny chuckles and leans away to do it himself.

"There are other things my mouth could be doing, sugar."

Dean's distracted from staring at the newly revealed expanse of skin covered in red-brown hair by Benny's hands sliding his pants down, letting his cock spring free. The first touch of Benny's mouth to the inside of his thigh has him trembling already, the prickle of whiskers a contrast that increases his shivers as Benny mouths at the base of Dean’s dick, brushing his lips along the shaft in teasing contact that has Dean bucking his hips.

"Easy now," Benny murmurs, petting at the inside of Dean’s other thigh. "And you want me to stop, you tell me."

"Please don't, don't stop," Dean whines, and Benny chuckles again before wrapping Dean's thighs over his shoulders and swallowing him down quick, wet, and tight.

The sensation punches a cry out of him. Benny’s mouth slides and sucks and teases, the suction and the warmth just this side of too much. When he manages to peek down, Benny’s watching him with lust-blown eyes, swirling his tongue around the head in a rapid glide that sends Dean quickly careening towards the edge. Dean bites his lip and whimpers in disappointment at how he already feels that so close, but Benny just soothes a hand over his stomach and moves faster until Dean chokes out a hoarse groan and comes.

When Benny finally pulls his mouth away and clambers up over Dean, who’s still shaking in the aftershocks, he grins at the pout on Dean’s face. “No need to look so disappointed.”

“No, I’m not, it wasn’t-” Dean blushes, mortified. “I just-” But Benny kisses him quiet, resting his weight on his forearms so he doesn’t crush Dean entirely.

“Don’t worry, ‘s flattering.” The gravelly, lust-lowered tone in his ear has Dean squirming to get his hands anywhere he can reach, exploring Benny’s muscled, taut chest and the smooth plane of his back. The rub of coarse fabric against his softening dick causes an interesting friction, but Dean’s feeling bold enough to work at the buttons of Benny’s pants, slipping a hand inside to grasp a massive, hard cock. His grip has Benny growling against Dean’s neck and thrusting into the pressure of his fingers.

Benny’s eyes close and he arches towards Dean, mumbling what might be mingled French and Cajun into Dean’s mouth in between sharp inhalations. When Dean’s hand is sliding through precome and twists in fast, firm drags, Benny places a hand on his wrist to stop him, pulling away to rummage in the pocket of his coat where it fell next to the bed. He takes out a small bottle of lube and straightens, pants still bunched around his thighs, cock wet and swollen.

Dean just watches, unconsciously letting his thighs fall farther apart as Benny drizzles a generous amount of lube on his fingers. He leans back over Dean, presses his cock into the crease of Dean’s thigh and kisses him slowly, taking the time to explore Dean’s mouth with his tongue until some of the tension radiating from the younger man has dissolved.

“This is going to hurt a bit, but I’ll take care of you, hm?”

Dean hums affirmatively, not wanting to break the kiss. It turns into a gasp at the cool sensation of lube as Benny traces over his tightly puckered hole. When the first of Benny’s thick fingers breaches him, it sends a bolt of pain up his spine that kills his developing erection and makes him whimper, not that he would ever admit making the noise. But Benny just strokes him open, whispering filthy words in that syrup-smooth accent about how tight Dean is, how eager he is to be inside of Dean, and Dean drinks them in as he takes a second, then a third of Benny’s fingers that open him like his own fingers never had.

Benny preps him until he’s as open as he’s going to be, then shifts until he’s dragging the tip of his dick over Dean’s hole.

“Ready?” he murmurs, leaning in to worry Dean’s smooth jaw with his own stubbled cheek.

“Sure, y-yes- ah!” Dean cries out at the slow breach, gripping Benny’s biceps hard enough to bruise and crushing their lips together as he rides out the pain while Benny eases himself all the way inside, until their hips are bumping together and Benny pauses to let him adjust.

“Oh, f-fuck, that’s-”

“That, mmh, it is,” Benny pants back at him, trying to stay still despite how incredibly tight Dean is pressing around him and the urge to fuck him through the mattress. He waits, then slides back until only the head of his cock is still inside Dean, who squirms and bites his lip at the sensation of being pried wide open.

After more long minutes of slow thrusts and retreats, the pain has dulled and they begin to move in a gradually steadying rhythm that has Dean wrapping his legs around Benny’s thick, muscular torso and pressing up into the contact. He tilts his hips up just a fraction, and the new angle allows perfect contact with a spot inside him that has him arching up off the bed with a choked off groan of pleasure. Benny grins at him and thrusts harder, tagging the spot again, and this time Dean’s moan is loud and unrestrained.

“No need to be quiet, tell me how much you love it,” he growls at the younger man writhing in pleasure under him, and Dean obliges, especially when Benny reaches between them to fist Dean’s dick and pump in time with the movement of their hips. Then Dean moans like a whore, savoring how his cries spur Benny on.

“G-gonna, ah, gonna come soon,” Dean manages to say, and then Benny’s fucking him hard enough that they slide up the bed on the sweat-damp sheets. Dean shakes and shouts and spurts hot, milky streaks across Benny’s hand and his own chest, and only moments later, Benny goes taut and lets loose his own shout that reverberates through Dean’s chest as he pulses and fills Dean.

It’s a long time before either of them moves, still trembling in the aftershocks of orgasm. Benny finally manages to pull out of Dean and roll next to him. Dean’s eyes stare unseeing at the ceiling as he tries to calm his pounding heart, basking in the complete, satiating exhaustion and dull, aching pain that he knows will probably get worse. But for now, he’s too content to move.

“Jesus fuck,” he rasps out. Benny chuckles next to him, wipes his forearm across his face to clean away some of the sweat, and then grins over at Dean.

“All right?” he asks, and Dean can’t reply any other way than to press a possessive hand to the other man’s taut stomach and give him a deep, slow kiss. He’s not sure what happens now, but Benny doesn’t seem the type to fuck and run, not the way he’d looked at Dean those days ago, with care and concern. Then Benny’s rough hands stroke carefully down Dean’s side, tracing over every rib as though Dean’s something precious. He stops worrying.



The first hints of sun are showing when they climb out of bed and back into clothes. Sometime in the night, Benny had finally lost his pants, and Dean’s own had ended up kicked under the bed.

“Sammy’s probably still asleep, and I doubt my dad’s back. Hope not, anyway,” Dean says, really hoping his dad is still out hunting and not back to see Dean sneak into their motel room where an injured Sam was left alone all night.

Benny watches him, hands buried deep in his coat pockets and hat replaced. “You’ll be leaving soon, when he gets back.”

Dean sighs and rubs at the back of his neck. “Yeah, that’s how it goes. But I-” He can’t bring himself to finish his thought, that he wishes he had more time to stay here with this man, who’s strong and thoughtful in a way his father isn’t, who listens to him, who treated his body like something precious. Dean’s not used to being taken care of.

Benny seems to read some of this in his eyes. “You ever get tired of that life, ever need someone to look out for you, you know where to find me, sugar.”

He scribbles down a full name, an address, a phone number, kisses Dean hard once, then again, a third time, then finally pulls away and leaves, closing the door quietly.