Dean let his mouth travel over soft skin and elicit the sounds of pleasure that now filled his shack by the beach. The girl on his bed arched up into his touch whenever he used his skilled hands to tease and stroke.
“Hmm,” she moaned when his tongue invaded her mouth at the same time his fingers found her wet entrance. “Oh, God.”
“That good, baby?” Dean’s voice was hoarse when he spoke into her ear, and his fingers moved in and out until her hips followed his touch desperately.
They moved in bed within a sweaty confusion of tangled limbs and urgent breathing, and Dean was about to take her when the door burst open and someone stood right in the middle of the shack.
“Natalie! What the hell?!”
The girl gasped and pulled the sheets up to cover her nakedness, and Dean simply stared at the handsome, shirtless young man standing in the middle of his place.
“Gabriel!” the girl exclaimed.
“My friend saw you come here with this guy, what the hell were you thinking?”
“Who’s that?” Dean asked her.
“Ummm…” The girl seemed embarrassed but hardly sorry. “That’s my, um, boyfriend.”
“Oh.” Dean looked at the guy again and let his eyes study the hard muscles on the guy’s chest and lower belly.
Living by the shore meant Dean had a parade of beautiful bodies walking right before his eyes every day, something the twenty year old boy appreciated very much.
“I can’t believe you’d do this to me!” the guy was saying.
“Hey, listen…” Dean stood up, not bothering to cover his own nakedness and the erection that sprung proudly from between his legs. “Give the girl a break, eh? I saw her, she saw me, we got horny…it’s no big deal. Chill out.”
The guy frowned and took a step back when Dean went close and looked leeringly at him.
“You can stand there and feel pissed all you want, or you can join us and have a good time…” Dean licked his lips almost unconsciously when his fingers grazed the guy’s naked abdomen.
“What…?” The guy looked perplexed, but Dean heard the hitch in his breath and knew he would get his way.
“You and Natalie…” Dean nodded at the girl. “Are both so fucking hot…damn, I think I’m gonna do both of you…” Dean let his hand cup the erection that was growing firm against his palm and smiled appreciatively at the response.
“You…I…I’m straight….” Gabriel started.
“Shhh…” Dean put a finger to the guy’s lips to silence him and stroked faster until the young man before him was way too aroused to think straight. Dean dropped to his knees and he heard the girl gasp with delighted surprise when he took her boyfriend’s cock in his mouth and sucked.
Gabriel’s fingers flew to Dean’s short hair and he lost all reason and any remaining coherence. That was a mouth that knew what to do.
Dean would have smiled if he wasn’t too busy sucking the guy off. Sex was not only his favorite past time, it was like an art, and if practice made perfection, then Dean had definitely mastered this art through the many partners he had had. He didn’t really mind if they were boys or girls; he enjoyed having his dick sheathed into warm tightness. Dean was drawn to beauty more than he was to gender. And he was drawn to a good challenge more than he was to an easy fuck.
“Bed,” he groaned and pushed Gabriel onto the bed where his girlfriend was now touching herself.
Gabriel fell onto the bed, his head still clouded with pleasure, the need to come buzzing in his ears.
“Change of plans, baby. Your boyfriend will fuck you as I fuck him, how’s that?” Dean’s eyes narrowed with lust and he didn’t give anyone time to reply. The moaning that was once again echoing in the shack was enough answer from everyone involved.
As promised, Dean took a surprised Gabriel and relished the wanton moaning he could elicit from the straight guy as he opened him up on his cock.
For an entire afternoon, Dean enjoyed the company of the couple. They alternated between sex and food and showering, and by the end of the day Dean had taken both the girl and the guy and come until all the muscles in his body were sore and happy.
By the time the two lovebirds left his shack, Dean was exhausted and pleased. He closed his eyes to drift into an easy, dreamless sleep.
~ * ~
Sam opened his eyes when the clarity of the morning was allowed inside his room. He blinked a few times before shutting his eyes again and tried to ignore the light.
“Morning, prince. Rise and shine. Your father wants you up for the day is long and even longer will be the night.”
Sam took a deep breath, his eyes still shut, and realized he couldn’t just ignore the person opening the drapes further to let the sun spill over the balcony and up to his bed.
“It’s too bright, Crowley. Shut the drapes,” Sam ordered.
“It’s time to wake up, prince. Your father will be here at any moment and you need to be ready.”
Sam waited another moment before he gave in and pulled the sheets off himself. The moment he sat up in bed with his sleeping shorts, Sam could feel Crowley’s eyes studying him. The same thing happened every morning, so Sam wasn’t surprised at his interest. He knew exactly what Crowley was looking for. The same thing he looked for every morning, and the same thing he prevented by sleeping in Sam’s room every night since Sam had turned 12 and was caught touching himself for the first time.
Crowley was there to assure Sam had no privacy. Not in his room, and hardly a few minutes in the shower before someone would walk in on him and make sure he wasn’t doing anything he wasn’t supposed to.
All Sam knew was that his daddy didn’t want him to do that kind of thing. He had made it pretty clear when he had walked in on Sam pleasuring himself three years ago. Sam shuddered at the memory and started to look for his clothes so he could take a shower.
Of course some things were beyond his dad’s control. Sam had never done that shameful thing again, but it didn’t stop him from dreaming. And sometimes, when the dream was too vivid, Sam woke with his shorts sticking to his skin with the evidence of his pleasure. That was what Crowley had been looking for, but there had been no dreams the previous night.
At first, Sam didn’t know exactly why he wasn’t allowed to do what his body sometimes begged him to do, but he knew it had something to do with his blood and the way it tasted.
There had been a time, a little over a year ago, when Sam had woken up with his come drying on his skin and had gone to the shower quickly before anyone could notice. That night, as his daddy walked into his room, he had known it easily. Sam had tried to hide it but failed, and that was the first time Sam understood that whatever happened to that part of him became part of his blood.
Now, Azazel was a good dad to him, Sam knew that. Sam knew his dad loved him very much and did everything he could to give Sam whatever he wanted. Yet, that night when he had tasted something wrong, Sam had feared him. He was able to see, in his dad’s yellow eyes, how irritated he felt at what had happened, and he had made Sam promise that he hadn’t done anything wrong, that it was just a dream his dad’s servants had failed to notice.
So now, whenever Sam had one of those dreams, which happened quite often as he got older, Azazel was informed by Crowley, and that was a night he wouldn’t visit Sam’s room at night.
As he walked into the bathroom holding his clothes and a towel, Sam tried to shrug off these thoughts. It was his sixteenth birthday today, and his dad had planned a huge party for that night. Sam knew it would be an eventful day, but honestly, all he wanted for his birthday was time to himself without his dad’s spies all over him. A little more freedom to leave their posh house would be nice too.
Sam had spent pretty much all his life inside the walls of his father’s beautiful home. While it was truth that he had always had everything he needed, including a bunch of people ready to cater to his every need, Sam was also tired of living his life in books and talking to the few, mysterious people that would sometimes visit his dad.
He left home once a week to study history, math, chemistry and Latin with his teacher, Bobby Singer. When Sam was young, Bobby used to come to the mansion for his lessons, but since last year Sam had been given permission to go to Bobby’s place to have his classes. Sam enjoyed that very much.
Bobby was more than a teacher; he was a good friend in whom Sam confided. It was Bobby who had explained to him part of what was going on in his life.
Sam hadn’t told his teacher the details of what happened at home, because Sam knew better than that. He was well aware that some things had to remain secret, so when he grew curious and stared asking questions, he tried really hard to make it sound casual. Sam didn’t know whether or not Bobby had read more between the lines of Sam’s curious probing, but he tried not to think too much of it. If Bobby knew what happened he had never shown it. He had, though, answered Sam’s question about the connection of blood to masturbation.
Testosterone, Bobby had said. Then he had spent about an hour teaching Sam about hormones and how they acted in the blood and other parts of the body. They were not supposed to have a taste, or a smell, at least nothing a human could identify, but Sam knew his daddy wasn’t human, and now he also knew why he didn’t like it when Sam had a wet dream and why he forbid him to pleasure himself. It was testosterone he tasted, and he didn’t like that.
Sam opened the tap and felt the hot water against his skin. He closed his eyes and relished the feeling for a few minutes.
Sometimes he wondered what would happen to him in the future. Would his dad keep things that way forever? Sam didn’t know if or when things would change, but he knew that it was really hard to be the boy his dad wanted him to be at all time.
The older he grew, the more it hurt having to repress any feelings of sexual desire. Sometimes he felt so aroused and so hard that it hurt. During most of his days Sam had managed to ignore that part of his biology, but sometimes it was nearly impossible. Without the possibility of finding relief, Sam would sometimes find himself having to spend two, three days hard pretty much all the time, his balls aching, his thoughts a mess. Then there would be a wet dream to help him relieve the tension. If he was lucky.
If he wasn’t…well, there had been that time when he had woken up with a hard on, pretended to be still asleep, and rubbed ever so slightly against the sheets to try and obtain some friction. Of course he had been caught, and the shame of being busted at least helped the feeling of heat go away.
“Sam? Hurry up, your dad wants to talk to you about tonight.” Crowley stuck his head inside the bathroom and took a look at Sam as he washed his hair.
“Ten minutes,” Sam replied. “I’ll be right there.”
“Good,” Crowley nodded appreciatively. “And prince?”
~ * ~
Dean woke up around midday and yawned noisily. He got up, naked, and went to the fridge where he grabbed something to eat. He could still smell yesterday’s sex inside the shack, so he walked towards the windows and opened them.
Then, he went into the bathroom, showered quickly and left. He had promised his dad he would work on the cars today, and he was already running late.
John Winchester was the town mechanic, and Dean helped out at his dad’s garage during the day sometimes. At night, Dean worked at a bar by the beach preparing all sorts of colorful and tasty drinks. Dean made a lot more money with the tips he got from bartending than he did helping his dad out at the garage, but he knew his father appreciated the help, and Dean enjoyed working with cars, too. Not as much as he liked his night job, but then, he supposed there was a simple explanation.
Working at the bar Dean saw different, beautiful people every night, and on very rare occasions did he end up going home alone. He enjoyed flirting. It was like a sport, and Dean was good at it. He took time to run by the beach and exercise his muscles to make sure he always looked good. Dean enjoyed the attention, the chase, the reward. For sure he enjoyed getting off, but it was much more than that. It started with a smile, a few words, a lingering look, and then the animal in him would be tempted to smell a partner and he wouldn’t rest until he got what he wanted.
Dean had never been turned down by someone he really wanted to shag. Whether it was a committed girl or a straight guy that caught his attention, if Dean really put his mind to it, eventually he ended up getting what, or who, he wanted.
He had started early, some could say. When he was thirteen years old he slept with his first girl. By the age of sixteen he had an impressive collection of sex stories to brag about.
Some people had tried to point out that his busy sex life was probably trying to make up for some kind of hollowness he had inside, but this usually just caused Dean to laugh. He had sex because he enjoyed it, because he was good at it, and because it was his favorite thing to do in the summer or winter. Whenever someone questioned him about whether or not he fell in love with the people he bedded, Dean just smiled and looked away. It wasn’t like he didn’t believe in love, but he had been with enough people to see the more clinical side of love, the part where you got what you wanted, sated your hunger and went each your separate ways.
He had never felt jealous of anyone he had sex with. Considering he saw the act pretty much as a sport, a hobby, Dean didn’t care much if his partners had other partners, and he hardly wanted to repeat the experience with the same person once he had gotten intimate with them.
Dean didn’t see a problem with that. Life was too short to dwell on such matters. People had different talents, he thought. Some people were born artists, some people were born rich, some people were born to be lovers, and Dean believed he was one of the last kind and thus had accepted his fate.
He left the shack where he lived by himself and walked a few minutes until he was at his father’s garage.
“Dad? Are you there?” Dean opened the gate and walked into the salvage yard.
“Dean?” John showed up at the door after a few minutes. “You’re late. Go get to work.”
John was aware that Dean was completely independent and didn’t need that job with the cars at all. Yet, he had always been firm with his commands, and Dean let John have things that way. He didn’t mind his dad giving him orders, even though Dean could just turn around and leave. Dean loved his dad. He knew his old man hadn’t had an easy life—Dean’s mom had died when he was just a child—and Dean admired his father’s strength to have gotten through that. Even though he didn’t quite understand the depth of a feeling like what his dad had felt for his mom, Dean respected that, almost worshipped that, and he made sure to visit his father often to spend time with him.
“What are you doing inside?” Dean asked.
“Research…you know, stuff.”
Dean nodded slowly. He knew his father was more than just a mechanic. The people in town might see John Winchester as nothing but an eccentric garage owner who fixed cars and had some very weird ideas about the world. Dean knew that some people thought his dad was crazy because of the things he read about and believed in.
John Winchester believed in Supernatural things. He was convinced that creatures walked among humans, and Dean knew that he had spent most of his life trying to prove it. Some people said that when Mary, John’s wife died, he had lost his mind completely, but Dean didn’t agree with them. He knew better than that. His dad was a smart, strong man, and Dean was very much inclined to believe his crazy ideas about people that were more than just human, people who walked among other people, but with the potential to be deadly in some sort of occult way.
Not that Dean had time to dedicate to that kind of belief, but he took his father’s work seriously, and hoped he would some day find something interesting, something that helped him let go of his past and the pain it still caused him.
Dean started working on the cars and had been working on them for a couple of hours when Benny found him.
“Hey,” he said.
Dean rolled out from beneath the vehicle and looked at his friend. “Hi.”
Dean got up, wiped his dirty hands on his pants and accepted the beer.
“Where were you yesterday?” Benny asked. “You disappeared after you started talking to that girl. Cas and I looked for you, but then I told him you were probably in the shack banging her already.”
“That’s only partially true. Her boyfriend walked in on us.”
“No shit? What did you do?”
Benny’s lips parted and for a few seconds no sound came, but then there was laughter as he shook his head. “You’re the devil. I don’t know why I’m surprised after all these years.”
Dean chuckled. Benny, Cas and him had been friends since childhood, and they were used to each other’s habits.
“Where’s Cas, by the way?” Dean asked after washing down his throat with the cold beer.
“That’s what I’m here to tell you. Remember that party that Azazel will be throwing tonight?”
“Azazel? The richest and most arrogant bastard prick this town has ever known is throwing a party to show off how damn wealthy he is? No, didn’t hear anything,” Dean said with sarcasm. Everyone in town had heard about tonight’s party. It was the birthday of Azazel’s precious son, that was what everybody knew. Yet, few people knew anything about said son, and even fewer people were actually invited into the mansion.
“It’ll be an awesome party, you know? I’m sure Azazel won’t spare any money to make sure everyone who goes is talking about tonight for a long time. Cas even told me there will be live music and fireworks.”
“And how does Cas know anything about it?”
“He was invited.”
“Yes! He was hired to sing at the party.”
“That bastard!” Dean exclaimed. Castiel had the voice of an angel. He was trying to make a career in singing, and a lot of people in town were aware of his talent. Azazel seemed to be one of these people. “Is he going, then?”
“Yep. And so are we.”
“Come again?” Dean frowned.
“Cas got us on the list under fake names.”
“Uh, Benny? I don’t know if you got dumb or what, but pretty much everyone in town knows my face, and you know I’m not welcome at that place.”
Azazel and John Winchester had had some run-ins in the past. There was no love lost between the two of them, and with his power and influence, Azazel had made sure John Winchester was restricted to his cars and his research without having much attention from anyone else in town. The two of them pretty much hated each other, and Dean was sure that Azazel knew who he was.
“Well, that’s where the good part comes. It’s a costume party.”
“A costume party?” Dean’s lips twitched with a smile.
“Exactly. We can both go disguised as something else, crash Azazel’s fancy party, eat and drink ourselves stupid with the finest food and most expensive drinks, see Cas perform and be out of there without them having a clue we were ever in.”
Dean listened carefully to the idea.
“So, what do you say? Let’s go?”
“I don’t know…you know I want nothing to do with Azazel and his nasty bunch.”
“So take this chance to eat and drink on him. He would be so pissed if he ever found out he was opening his home to Dean Winchester!” Benny smiled and provoked.
Dean thought about it and felt himself warming up to the idea.
“It’s his son’s birthday you said?” Dean’s eyes lit up with mischief. “Let’s go wish the kid happy birthday then,” he chuckled lightly. The opportunity to do something he wasn’t supposed to and make a fool of his father’s enemy was too irresistible. “Tell Cas we’re going.”
tbc..... I guess *feeling anxious*