Almost a week the town had to wait before the Bunty brothers showed up. They were hell bent on revenge from last time and it came to a shoot out where they barricaded themselves inside the bank keeping the banker, Shawn Goodman, hostage. Some of the streets in town had been barricaded, keeping the brothers from escaping, and only the towns folk knew what route to take to make it out. After riding around in the streets, with as much money as they could carry, trying to find a way out, the brothers had to surrender. One had been shot dead, another injured, and a third knocked unconscious when he fell from his horse. They were hauled to the prison and locked up. Dean needed to get the judge to town for a trial. Sending a letter would take too long, so he decided to get him himself. He left Thomas in charge along with the temporary deputies, all men he knew would be able to control the situation. He packed the most necessary; the trip would take five days and even longer to get back, because the judge favoured a buggy instead of riding. Probably worried about his fancy clothes, Dean thought, as he mounted his horse. With a 'good luck' ringing after him, he left Thomas behind and headed for Harrow.
He had been riding about twenty minutes when he became certain he was being followed. He rode his horse in among some trees and found a vantage point where he could hide. As the other person rode by, Dean jumped on him, knocking him from the horse. He was about to punch him when he saw it was Castiel.
"What!" he exclaimed with surprise. "Castiel! What the hell are you doing here?"
A bit out of breath from the hard landing on the ground, Castiel said: "I wanted to go with you. Just in case you would need help."
Dean huffed out a laugh and stared at him. "If I'll need help I'm sure you're not the person who can give it to me."
He regretted his harsh words immediately, as he saw the hurt in Castiel's eyes. Nobody ever took him to be a 'real' man. Someone who could defend himself and shoot a gun. Dean sighed and helped him up. "Look, I just mean that this is a bit out of your comfort zone," he said, trying to smooth things out.
Castiel dusted himself off and Dean saw the gun at his right side.
"Where did you get that?" he asked, pointing to the gun.
"I bought it," Castiel said simply.
"You bought it?"
Castiel looked at him. "I told you, I know how to shoot."
Dean wasn't sure of that. "Yeah, well, thanks for the concern but I think you should go back to town."
"No."
Dean looked at him with surprise. "No?"
"No. I'm coming with you. If you leave without me I'll follow you." He looked at Dean calmly, placing his black hat on his head. As he stood there, defiant, with a gun at his hip and dust on his face he looked quite...well, attractive, Dean thought. Almost a man. He sighed. "Alright," he said. "But don't fall behind and don't wander off. And don't shoot that thing." He gestured to the gun.
Castiel smiled at him. A real smile; the first time Dean had seen that. He should really do that more often. They mounted their horses and rode off. They made good progress that day and could get a well-deserved rest that night. They lit a fire and made coffee. Dean had brought some food and they ate in silence, tired from the ride. Dean took a moment to examine Castiel's face. They had never spent this much time together and Dean really didn't know him that well. But he seemed to know when to keep quiet and he didn't complain; just followed Dean where he led them. They lay down by the fire to sleep and were awoken by a bird singing loudly the next morning. Dean stretched his aching limbs. He was getting older, he could feel it. He was 35 now and in his younger days he had been used to spending a day in the saddle. But now he had a job, he slept in the same bed every night. After a quick cup of coffee and a slice of bread they rode off and stopped around seven in the evening to make camp for the night. They sat by the fire and talked as it had gotten dark. Castiel asked a lot of questions about Dean and his life before he had moved to Drywood.
Then he said: "I don't really care for her, you know."
Dean didn't know. He had no clue what Castiel was talking about. "About who?"
"Beatrice. I only kissed her because I wanted to practice."
Dean thought for a moment. He could understand that. "Does she know that?"
"No. But I haven't promised her anything. I never promise them anything."
Dean's eyebrows went up. "What?" He couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"The girls. I never promise them anything."
Dean opened his mouth but it took a while for words to come out. "Are you telling me you're kissing all the girls just because you want to 'practice'?"
"Not all the girls," Castiel said, sounding indignant.
"But a lot of them?"
"Yes?" Castiel suddenly sounded unsure.
Dean let out a huff of air. "Well, I hope for your sake they don't find out about each other."
Castiel gave him a quick look.
"So, are you practicing for anyone in particular?" Dean asked. He though it quite funny. He hadn't expected Castiel, the quiet son of the barber, to be such a ladies' man.
Castiel cleared his throat and began fidgeting with his sleeve. "There is someone."
"Huh," Dean said. He had kind of figured.
Castiel cleared his throat again. "Do you remember the time you were unconscious and we all kept watch by your bedside?"
Dean smiled. "No, as I told you, I don't remember because I was unconscious."
"Do you remember Amber?"
Dean snapped his head around looking at him. Amber was the prostitute from Fulton. How could Castiel know about her?
"What about Amber?" he asked, his mouth going dry.
"You were saying her name the night I kept watch."
"Yes?" Maybe it wasn't so bad after all.
"Who is she? A girlfriend?"
Now it was Dean's turn to clear his throat. "Uh, no, just a girl I knew. Why are you asking about her?"
"Because you were saying her name." Dean sensed there was more to it. He had had a dream about her. A very vivid dream. If Castiel had been there that night and Dean had had a sex dream while saying her name, God knows what Castiel was thinking.
"Cas, did I do anything that night? Anything that you might have found...offensive?"
"My Mom used to call me Cas," he said.
"Oh, sorry."
After a while, Castiel continued: "I did something that night. Something I've regretted many times since."
Dean waited for him to continue.
"You didn't know what was going on and I was there alone the whole night." The words seemed difficult for him to find.
"You were naked under the sheet and as you moved it exposed your skin and...I wanted to touch you." His voice went weaker as he spoke.
Dean went cold all over. "And?" he asked, dredding what would come next.
"You have always been kind to me. Ever since I was a boy. And I liked you instantly. I admired you. You were our sheriff, the one who looked after us." He was speaking fast, almost urgently.
"Castiel, tell me what happened." His head was beginning to pound and he sounded angry.
"I...I touched you. Your..." he made a small gesture to his own crotch. "You seemed to like it. And then I just...I touched you." He was staring intently on the ground.
Dean felt the heat in his cheeks and the cold running down his back as he realized what Castiel was saying. He clenched his fists. Then he got up and grabbed Castiel by the shirt, slapping his cheek with the back of his hand. Castiel whimpered and cowered on the ground. Dean was breathing heavily. He felt violated. He had been unconscious, mortally wounded while protecting the town and this ...boy had taken advantage of him. He turned around and walked off. He had to get out of there before he beat Castiel to a pulp. In his dazed anger he vaguely heard Castiel shout after him: "I only did it because I like you."
Dean walked around for a while until his breath had steadied and his head was clear again. He was still shaking a little and he was mad as hell. He steadied himself against a tree. He didn't know how he could go back and face Castiel. They still had three days together before they got to Harrow. He sat down, leaning against the tree trunk and rubbing his hands against his face. Castiel had justified his actions with the fact that he liked Dean. Dean realized that he was the person Castiel was kissing all those girls for. He wanted to learn to kiss because he wanted to kiss Dean. Even after what he had done and admittet to regretting, he still thought he and Dean would kiss. He sighed. He had to go back to camp. When he got there, Castiel looked at him nervously, flinching a little. Dean went and rolled out his blanket and lay down. With his back to Castiel he said: "We'll never talk about this again and you won't tell a single soul. If you do you'll regret it."
Castiel didn't say anything but Dean could hear him shuffle as he lay down to go to sleep.
The next morning, Castiel had a red mark on his cheek and he never made eye contact with Dean. They packed up and rode off and Dean had the whole day to think about what had happened. He now knew the reason Castiel had wanted to come with him. He had hoped to get closer to him, maybe even closer than was healthy. Dean couldn't understand him. He had never seen Castiel show an interest in the other boys and he had never heard any rumours about him. He had practically told Dean he was in love with him. Wanted to practice kissing to make it good for Dean. He softened a little. Maybe he was just a curious boy. And Dean had been there, naked and not able to say no. And it had been nice; Dean had to admit. He cursed at himself. These thoughts were wrong. Castiel hadn't said anything to him since the night before. They made camp by a lake and lit a fire. They ate in silence and Dean was still a little angry. Castiel went to the lake to wash the dishes and when he got back he went to put everything away for the night. It just so happened that Dean was taking his blanket out and as Castiel was putting the cups and plates down, he couldn't help touching Dean's hand, a finger rubbing against it. It could have been completely innocent but it was deliberate. This was just like Castiel. The way he always stared at Dean, refusing to turn his gaze away. Now, after his admissions the night before, he was back to see how far he could go.
Dean was going to show him. He reacted on instinct; if his brain had been in it he wouldn't have done it. He grabbed Castiel and showed him on the ground, a hand reaching around to undo his jeans, yanking them down over his hips. He could hear the surprised and slightly frighetened gasp Castiel made, but he didn't do anything else, and Dean saw that as acceptance. He unbuttoned his own jeans and stroked himself hard in a few seconds, then he spat on his hand and rubbed it over his cock. He pressed into Castiel, ignoring the gasps of apparent pain. He started thrusting, feeling how tight the youth was around him. Castiel was completely still, letting Dean do what he wanted. When Dean was getting close, he reached around and under Castiel and started to stroke him. Castiel began to make gasping noises and Dean gave a few last hard thrusts and finished. He took a few seconds to catch his breath, then he took hold of Castiel's cock again and rasped into his ear: "Go."
Castiel started fucking himself in Dean's hand and it only took a few thrusts before he was beginnning to shake. Even so, Dean couldn't take it anymore and let go of him, standing up and turning his back. As he was buttoning up his jeans he heard the strangled sound of Castiel's orgasm, as he finished himself.
They went to sleep without talking and the next morning, Dean took a bath in the lake. He tried to forget what had happened the night before. He felt guilty. He had been furious at Castiel because of what he had done, but he wasn't any better himself. He knew Castiel could have said no, but Dean felt he wouldn't have, no matter what. As he emerged from the water, all wet and cooled down, he spottet Castiel sitting under a tree near the bank. He was staring at Dean as he usually was, his eyes travelling over his body, resting for a moment on his cock. Dean took no notice of him and got dressed. Then they rode on and only stopped for lunch a few hours later.
After they had eaten, Dean found a place in the shade under a big pine tree. There was some dry grass and it was the perfect place for a midday snooze. Dean sat down, leaned back and quickly fell asleep. He was awoken by something touching his shirt where it went into his jeans. He jerked awake and saw Castiel sitting to the left of him, his hands fidgeting with the waistband of his jeans. He grabbed Castiel's wrists in a vice like grip and gave him a hard look, but just got Castiel's blank stare back. They stayed like that for several seconds, then Castiel started to move his hands again and Dean let him go. Castiel quickly undid Dean's jeans and found his cock half hard already.
Dean whimpered at the touch of Castiel's wet and soft tongue and his head went back, his eyes squeezing shut with pleasure. Castiel sucked him off, not in any apparent hurry. He wasn't quick, but not slow either. It was the perfect speed for Dean to have time to really enjoy it, feeling the way the tip of his tongue narrowed as he licked at the slit, and the way it was warm and soft as he pressed it flat against Dean's cock. Dean had been worried if Castiel would tell people about the night before. Castiel could claim that he hadn't dared to refuse Dean because he was a sheriff. But this was so obviously voluntary and Dean relaxed and enjoyed it. It was clear that Castiel hadn't done this before but it was still good and Dean jerked up into his mouth as he came, a cry held back in his throat. For some reason he felt it inappropriate to exhibit how good it was.
They kept moving, making stiff, awkward conversation only when needed, and it wasn't until the next night that Castiel crept up behind Dean as they lay, trying to get some sleep. He ran a hand down Dean's back, then across his side and on to his stomach. There it rested until he knew he wouldn't get rejected and he slowly moved it down on Dean's crotch, rubbing gently. Dean sighed deeply and moved his legs a little more apart so Castiel had better access. Castiel squeezed a little and Dean moaned, in turn making Castiel moan and try to reach around so he could kiss Dean. Dean willingly rolled onto his back and they kissed for the first time. It was soft and careful at first, then deep and wanting and Castiel pressed himself hard against Dean. He started to unbutton Dean's jeans and soon had his hard cock in his hand, pumping up and down. After a while he sat up and undid his own jeans, pulling them down to his knees. Dean sat behind him and used as musch spit as he could in an attempt to make it a little easier on Castiel. When he was fully inside him, he started to thrust carefully and soon their cries of pleasure rang out through the cold, clear night. Afterwards, Dean held Castiel close to him as he slept comfortably. Dean still couldn't shake the feeling he was in the wrong, even though Castiel was offering himself willingly.
The next day, they reached Harrow and Dean went to find the judge. Luckily he could come with them immediately. He was happy the Bunty brothers had been captured and the fact that two of them were now dead made him happier still. He got his men together and they all made their way back to Drywood. Dean and Castiel couldn't touch each other the whole time and Dean was secretly happy. It had been fantastic but he felt he was taking advantage of Castiel. He was a boy who looked up to the town sheriff because he had been nice to him when he was a kid and who fought bandits to keep the town safe. It was only natural that Castiel would look up to him. Dean himself had become sheriff because he had admired the sheriff in his home town. But still, every time their fingers brushed against each other when they packed up their gear Dean felt a tingle in his stomach and he had a feeling he wouldn't be able to let go of Castiel that easily.
They had been back for almost a week, the judge had been installed at the hotel while during the trial and Dean had been busy and hadn't seen Castiel at all. This evening, he had just finished a simple supper and was clearing the table when there was a knock on the door. He opened it to find Castiel outside. He felt his stomach flip with happiness and stepped aside to let him in, knowing he was doing something wrong. Now that they were back, they couldn't see each other. What would the town think about Castiel knocking on the sheriff's door every other night?
As soon as Dean had closed the door he was pressed against it, Castiel's whole body pressing him into the wood. Dean was ready in that instance. He could go along with one last time, but that was it. Castiel had already undone Dean's jeans and was now starting on his own. Dean sighed to himself. He would miss his initiative. He got Castiel over to the table and bent him over. Then he saw the lard he had used on his bread was still on the table. He scraped a bit off with his fingers and spread it over his cock. Then he pressed into Castiel, who was flat against the table, waiting. Instead of the pained strangled sounds Castiel had made at the burn as Dean opened him up, he now moaned with surprised pleasure as Dean slid easily inside him. He kept on moaning and it made Dean feel less of a bastard.
He started thrusting, holding on to Castiel's hips, as Castiel began stroking himself. The lard made it easy for him to get a good rhythm going and he turned his head up and closed his eyes, feeling every clench around him while he listened to Castiel. Then there was a wet sound against the floor boards as Castiel came, his body shaking under Dean, and Dean smiled to himself. He wasn't anywhere near finished but he remembered what it was like at that age, not being able to hold it for very long. He kept going and soon Castiel was whimpering at the touch of his sensitive insides. Dean thrust harder, revelling in the sounds Castiel made. He came with a deep groan and gasped, as his body contracted and he pulled Castiel hard against him, making the youth whimper.
Dean pulled out of him and leaned over to steady himself against the table as he calmed down. Then he stood them both up and turned Castiel around to face him. He buttoned up his jeans for him saying: "Maybe you shouldn't touch yourself so soon next time." He had meant the next time Castiel had sex with someone else, not the next time they had sex. But Castiel misunderstood and he clung to Dean's shoulders and kissed him, desperately. Dean put his arms around his waist and decided he would move to another town. Sheriffs were needed everywhere, as were barbers. Maybe he could pass Castiel off as his brother, that way they could live together. He deepened the kiss and sighed. Castiel moaned against him and dragged him off towards the bedroom. Dean just had time to grab the lard from the table.
-END-
Yeehaw! That was fun to write. :P
