A moment. A moment and I'm watching him breathe. He's laid out in the dirt, crumbled leaves, broken twigs, rotten acorn lids and this gentle rise and fall of his chest keeping me company.
It ain't been twenty minuets pass since he settled and I'm itching to move again. This sitting, this resting, this ain't me and it ain't him. I got no qualms watching over him but every time he breathes I'm counting his heart beats like hours in the day and we've already been here years. It's just this tree I'm sat under, the bark digging into my back even through my coat and shirt and no matter which way I shift I ain't pulling off comfortable looking anything like Dean is. He's on his back with one arm bent over his eyes, the palm upturned and his fingers curled. His other arm by his side, I watched his fingers tracing lazy pulls through the dirt before he fell asleep, less drawing and more experiencing the feel of the grit under his nails. It's the sun light filtering through the canopy but it falls this ray of perfect light all around him like he could have picked a better place to lay to rest but he'd said the warmth felt good. I suppose it's cold, he's dressed like late November back home but that's two centuries ago and I wouldn't know.
He's a steady twelve beats per breath when I sit prepared to stay a while. I lay my head back onto this tree and close my eyes. I breathe deep. There's this scent in the air that ain't forest or Dean but I can't quite place it. It's a smell like Purgatory. It's a smell that ain't life or death and I'm sure we're never gonna escape that place. Not fully. Purgatory's like this stench clinging to us. It's last weeks cigarette, stolen in the night behind some shitty mini mart, that stale reminder of a seconds calm clarity when everything made sense and I belonged and it ain't an issue of how much creek water I run through my clothes or how much breeze I stand in, that scent is sticking to me. I'm just this cloud of What Happened When following around behind Dean but every time I suggest we split, he stops me, says that ain't an option. I see it when he pulls back and walks beside me. I see it when he's sure I ain't looking and he's got his eyes on me but when I look his way, he's quick to have something else to be doing. It's there again when I said I'd just take a walk around while he took his lay down and his face got pinched, his mouth this line of determination when he said, "No, Benny. You'll stay with me."
So I stay. It's the slightest play of wind through the leaves above us when I open my eyes and see Dean's lifted those fingers from the dirt and let that hand come to rest near the button of his jeans. There are light smears of dirt along the line of his zipper. His breath is calm, his pulse to match, but I've got this hitch in my breath when I watch him brush those finger tips down the curve of his crotch and back up again, leaving the slightest dirt trails behind. The forest around us is suddenly buzzing with life, the crickets and squirrels and birds louder in their calls than I'd noticed before. The air is thick and heavy. I ain't got the courtesy to look away but I check he's still got his eyes covered. Those finger tips trailing down again, the lightest brushing of the material, I can hear the scrape of his nails across each thread and I feel this flush crawling up the nape of my neck.
His heart beat picking up a bit, I watch as his cock hardens under his own touch, constricted by those jeans. It's another gentle grazing of the fingertips over the growing mound beneath his touch before his breathing is less shallow sleeping breaths and more the breaths of a man who is aware of what he's doing and has no intention of stopping. It's when he lays those fingers flat against the cloth and begins pressing slightly as he moves his hand that I'm shifting uncomfortably in my own clothes. It's no surprise my breathing matches his. I steal another glance, his arm still angled over his eyes and he's turned his face into the crook of his elbow a bit, like he's hiding himself and there's that flush rounding my neck and up into my cheeks but when I turn away, when I force myself to look anywhere but at him, I hear Dean say it. Just a breath from his lips, a name hanging on the end of the quietest hum of pleasure and my eyes are on him again.
"Mm. Cas."
With a sharp inhale, his palm is on his jeans, the gentle touch more a pressing plea as he rubs down the length of his cock through the material. He's doing this so slowly. He stops to take a few breaths between each movement. It's the most drawn out tease and I've got a hand on the crotch of my pants, rubbing my own swollen dick while I watch Dean and I pace myself to him like we ain't in the woods just resting in the middle of a hike and Dean ain't thinking about his angel while I'm throbbing for the man laying in the dirt just a few feet from me.
He tilts his face deeper into the crook of his arm and holds his breath while he unbuttons his jeans one handed. I've held my breath, too. Dean and me, we been through a lot but I've never seen him... I've never seen him like this and it's like this is going to happen or it's not and I've got this choice, I could stop myself and get up and walk away or I could do this and, it's there, I know I should go but he hums again, that sound deep in his chest as he grips the zipper and pulls it down. There's this moment frozen in time where he reaches into his jeans and pulls his dick out into the open air. He's using the lightest of touches again, his finger tips grazing the head then traveling down the shaft tauntingly. I'm watching this and neither of us have taken a breath yet. His pulse is this steady quick pace and climbing. He wraps his fingers around the base of his cock, his entire fist, and squeezes. We gasp for air in unison and I'm fumbling with my own pants trying to get my hands on my dick. It's like he's waiting for me, but he's still just drawing it out, and I've got myself up on my knees beside him and my own cock in hand when he begins to stroke. Each stroke full, and long, and deliberately paused at the base long enough for a breath in and out. I pace myself to him exactly, watching his every move. His chest rise and fall in smooth purposeful breaths. His eyes squeezed shut beneath his arm. The fingers on that hand still curled in a relaxed state. I'm trembling, my own movements synced with his but my breathing is nearly a shuddering.
I'm looking down on him, this throbbing in my cock, this heat building inside me, and he hums again, this time a proper moan as he begins to stroke himself without taking pause between each one. It happens before I can stop it, this hum of pleasure pulls through me and Dean doesn't seem surprised. He doesn't throw his arm aside and stare at me with anger and accusation in his eyes. He doesn't hide his cock from my view. He doesn't do any of that. He continues to move his fist fully up then down his own dick and he moans again, maybe as a reply.
"Cas." This time it's full voiced.
I lick my lips. This ain't who I am. This ain't me but I'm here just the same and there ain't much in this world that I want more in this moment than what is happening right this moment. I have another choice. I could walk away, still, but instead I lean over Dean, let go of my dick and place my hands on the ground beside him. My face inches from his cock, I inhale deeply, breathing in a few hours worth of hiking through the woods, and the heat of him. I exhale, slowly, blowing lightly down onto the flushed head that he has gripped tightly. He's frozen, completely still. I let another breath out onto his cock while shooting a glance up to his face. Dean Winchester, face still tucked into the nook of his arm, seems to be encountering a choice of his own. I've breathed on him again, my breath hot and his cock twitches in his hand.
Slowly, ever so slowly, I place my tongue on the head of his dick. He tastes of sweat and confinement and my own cock pulls in ache. I run the tip of my tongue along the ridge of his bell and lick my lips again. I set my lips, gently, around the ridge of his head and he moves his hand quick to the back of my head and I've got a mouth full of Dean Winchesters' cock before he can scape his nails through my hair.
"Oh, fuck." He presses his hand tenderly into the back of my head while his hips arch into me. I slide my lips up his shaft, little ridges and veins pulsing against my tongue. When I pull him back in, He's hitting the back of my throat and I've gagged involuntarily, but he arches and presses my face down. My nose buried in the dark hair spread around the base of his cock. I breathe him in then slide back up. "Fuck." He says and it's nearly a praise and I begin to suck him without reserve. It's his cock and my mouth like the two were made for this action in this moment and every time I move down he raises into me and every time he arches up, my own hips move, trying to find some friction in the empty air where my own dick hangs, hard and pulsing.
"God," he's panting and I pull my lips tighter, suck in, and move with his thrusts. I hardly notice when he's placed both hands on my head, each trying to push me down without actually pushing. I steal a look at his face, eyes still pinched closed but he's curled his shoulders up off the ground and he would be looking right at me if he'd just open his fucking eyes and I see him, I see him say it.
"Cas," he grunts, his dick pressing against the back of my throat. "Oh, fuck, Cas." My spit pooling in his pubic hair.
"Cas!" his hands holding my head. "God damn it. Oh. Oh! CAS!" His hips bucking into my fucking face.
I raise a hand up from the dirt, still sucking his fucking cock, and grab his balls and squeeze much harder than is ever necessary.
He shoots up into a sitting position,pulling himself out of my mouth, eyes wide open and prepared to punch me but I've still got his sac in my hold.
"The name," I say, glaring into his eyes, "is Benny. You'd best keep straight who you're fucking, Dean Winchester." I move like to put my mouth back on him and I see him close his eyes so I squeeze those jewels again, kinder this time, but his eyes pop back open. "And watch me, damn it."
And he does. Eyes wide, he's got both hands on my head again, he's curled his shoulders off the ground and he watches me suck his cock. I press my tongue against the shaft as I move , tightening with each stroke, until he's bucking into me again. I check to make sure he's still watching, and I catch his eye. He's flushed red and sweating. His features pure want but he grins and whispers "Benny," and presses the back of my head. He says "Benny," and shoves his dick deeper in my mouth. He moans, "Benny!" and throws his head back. "Benny. Fuck! Benny! BENNY!" His hands gripping the shoulder of my jacket. "Fuck! Oh. OH! OH!"
His entire body stiffens, and I feel the pulse against my tongue on his shaft first, then the hot, tart, salt of his come in the back of my mouth. He comes, and I pull him in again, and he comes, and I slide my lips back up his cock. My mouth is full and he's gone soft and I've got a choice again but this isn't the warm fluid from a human I'm going to swallow. I catch his eye. Dean's wearing this spent look, like he's exhausted, satisfied, and completely used. I lean toward him and he's wearing this stupid smile and saying, "Benny, man, that was awesome." but I see the dawning as he realizes what I'm coming in for. He turns away from me where my lips fall tenderly on his cheek. My hand still cradling his balls, I give a gentle squeeze. He side eyes me. "No way." I squeeze a little less gentle.
He turns to face me and I lay my lips on his, full and open. He resists but then relaxes, parting his lips and kissing me back. As we kiss, I use my tongue to push his come into his mouth. He opens his eyes wide, surprise every shade on his face, but he doesn't fight it and as I pull away, he holds my gaze. Defiance, determination, whatever it is, Dean Winchester is staring me in the eyes when he swallows and I laugh.
"That's a good boy." I say, patting his leg. "But you've still got some work to do."
I'm still laughing as his gaze falls down to my cock, still throbbing in the air, and his jaw drops.
"Let's go, kid."