Dean didn't really expect to see an old, dilapidated and creaky hut on the water. He forced himself not to expect it, since that was in every sense of the word, a stereotype. But that is very much what he found, and the end of his long walk across town, following on Benny's coattails.

The hut was no more than a few hundred square feet, made of old, nearly rotting wood, and it was right on the shore of Lake Ponchartrain. Dean wondered what this guy would do during a time of high water. Did he have to evacuate? Would his entire hut be submerged?

"Nice place you got here…" Dean gave an obligatory compliment to fill the silence.

"Thank you. I have a camper I stay in during high water times, but it's been a while since I needed it. Pret' sure there's a whole village of weasels livin' in it bah now."

Dean smiled a little smile, amused by Benny's carefree attitude and lifestyle. He couldn't help but feel a little jealous.

Benny opened the old creaky wooden front door with glass-paned windows and immediately felt around on the kitchen table for his lantern. Within a few seconds the oil lantern sprung to life with a steady, warm glow that lit up the whole kitchen.

Dean didn't want to seem snoopy, but the entire hut was really something to behold. From the raw wood cupboards to the rock-and-mortar countertop, every inch of the place looked both old and homemade. It was quaint, and Dean instantly found it to be homey. It wasn't creepy, or voodoo-looking. A couple of glances around revealed that there were no 'botchios' in sight. No sigils, warding totems or gruesome animal parts; just a cute, old-fashioned hut with minimal resources.

They both removed their shoes and socks, putting them in a small spot next to the door. Dean followed Benny's lead in the sock-removal part. He thought it was odd, but then again he didn't care to get his socks all sandy either. The floor was not filthy, but not exactly sterile.

Benny took a small white metal box from a cupboard and opened it quickly. He rifled through it and finally pulled out a small metal foil packet, about the size of a condom wrapper. But it wasn't a condom wrapper. It was a suture kit. Benny took a few other items from the metal box, including iodine and gauze.

Dean took a seat in one of the kitchen chairs and was surprised at how sturdy it felt despite the rickety look.

"Now are you gon' let me help? Or are ya doin' this solo?"

Dean looked a little sheepish. He knew he was capable of doing it himself. But his past experience told him that stitches done by someone else always turned out better; less scarring in the long run and the knots held better. They seemed to hurt worse, however, because the pain would come at unexpected times. But it was usually worth it.

"Do you mind doing it? I can walk you through it, if you need."

"No, nonsense. This is hardly ma first time doin' this either. In fact, you're usin' up ma last kit. I used t' have thirty-five."

Dean raised his eyebrows. He watched as Benny got the things lined up and ready.

"Jesus. Why so many times?" Dean winced as the first wad of iodine-soaked gauze touched his seeping wound.

"Well, let's just say in addition t' being a bit of a voodoo man, I also help my friends who get themselves in t' certain types of trouble; stabbings, drugs, gunshot wounds."

Dean braced himself for the first prick when he saw the curved needle coming in towards his face. Benny's hands were steady, and he was very grateful for that. There was almost nothing worse than the needle jostling back and forth through your flesh. John Winchester taught him that much. The fucker had the nerve to try to stitch Dean up while shaking from alcohol withdrawal.

But Benny was both gentle and firm at the same time. He didn't hesitate to make the first prick, and Dean hardly winced when it happened. The first stitch was in after seemingly three seconds, and the remaining two went in without a hitch as well.

Dean picked up the conversation where it last left off.

"Seeing as you know so many outstanding citizens around here... Were those people friends of yours? The ones that attacked me?"

"No, not 't'all mon cher. They know of me, however, and my voodoo capabilities. In fact they may fear a romanticized, imagin'tive version of me, but I hardly care to correct their misconception of ma abil'ties, 'course. It helps me get by."

"Yeah. And… thanks for saving me, by the way." Dean couldn't get himself to be wary of Benny, no matter how many mentions he made to his voodoo usage. Any witchdoctors Dean had ever crossed paths with were either fakes, or so very real that they were too far gone to stay on the good side of magic, if there was such a place.

But with Benny, Dean couldn't make any sense of it. Benny seemed so good willed, and kind. Was he actually a voodoo man or was this all just like playing house? Maybe it was "real" to Benny. Be it akin to children mixing mud in a bucket and calling it pie; it was not really real; just play and pretend, but not necessarily a lie. Because Benny came across as many things, but a con was not one of them.

"You are lucky I followed you. I knew you were headed the wrong way."

"What? Was that another one of your premonitions?"

"No. I saw you head right into the dangerous part of town. I know it all too well."

"Oh."

"It was just a matter of time before you were gon' get int' trouble. I figured I should follow an' make sure you got to where you were goin' without ending up with a knife in your neck."

"Yeah well… I don't suppose there's any way you can get my wallet back, is there?"

Benny chuckled; it was a deep, sexy chuckle that admittedly made Dean feel a surge of lust on the inside.

"'M sorry mon cher. That wallet is gone for good. I might be able t' help you with funds, if that's what you're worried 'bout."

"No, it's okay I have that part covered alright. I just can't believe I let my ass get handed to me. Those fuckers really got the jump on me."

"Don't go beatin' yourself up, darlin'. I just got done stitchin' you up once."

The hunter smiled at Benny's sense of humor.

Despite the light topic of conversation, there was a tension between the two of them; and it was so thick it almost made it hard to breathe.

Benny cracked another joke, and this time Dean let one of his whole-face smiles break loose.

"Aw, now that's somethin' beautiful." Benny said unexpectedly.

"What?" Dean went straight-faced for a moment.

"That smile you did jus' now. It was gorgeous. You have an enchantin' smile, Dean. You smile with your eyes; it's sweet. I like it."

Dean braced his jaw in hopes of somehow staving off the blush rising to his cheeks. No one had ever called any aspect of him beautiful. It was... odd. And pleasant.

In a brief train of thought, Dean's eyes closed for just a second, and in that instant he felt the scratch of Benny's beard against his cheek; against his lip. His eyes remained closed, despite his heart rate picking up pace and his mind racing with nerves.

Benny sealed their mouths together like he did everything: gentle and firm; unafraid and sure.

Dean didn't know what the fuck he was doing but he kissed back. He had never kissed a dude before, and had no idea how to maneuver the whole facial hair thing, but he did his best. It felt good; he liked being desired by this mysterious, gentle giant. He wasn't going to let the guy fuck him or anything, but that didn't mean they couldn't have some fun…

Right?

Benny helped Dean up from his chair and outright lifted both of his legs to wrap around his waist. Now this was a first for Dean. He'd done this to women, but he'd never before had the pleasure of being carried without once breaking the kiss.

The fisherman brought them to an even smaller room, which contained a full sized mattress that almost reached from one wall to the other. Dean was gently plopped down onto the bed and instantly enveloped by Benny's much taller, stockier body. The kissing lasted for ages. Dean felt beard burn developing on his chin but he didn't care. They were French kissing now, and what that Cajun man knew what to do with his tongue… Dean could never, and would never try to put it into words. His cock was pulsing with desire and it too was getting sore from friction.

Benny read his mind and deftly unzipped the Winchester's jeans and pulled them and the boxers down and off Dean's legs. The t-shirt came off next. Dean was now completely naked, but not ashamed at all of his young, scarred body. Benny unbuttoned his own jeans and unzipped his fly, but he was momentarily distracted by the impressive erection poking into his firm stomach. He bent over to take's Dean's big cock into his mouth.

The sensation was entirely unexpected, but all too welcome. Benny was proving to be an extremely talented and attentive lover. The warm, smooth glide consuming his cock was the best feeling he'd felt in far too long. Strong, rough-textured fingers played with his balls while his lover took his time laving the hard cock with his wet tongue.

"God, I want to fuck you." Dean confessed with a gasp.

"Mmm…" Benny moaned as he slid his mouth off slowly. "I would love that, mon cher. But 'm wearing too many clothes..."

"I can fix that." Dean eagerly sat up and began pulling Benny's cotton tee off his body, over his head. Next came the pants and underwear. Dean couldn't help but stare when he got a full, unobstructed view of Benny's cock. And fuck, that man was built like a Greek God. And not just under his shirt but below the belt, as well.

Benny groaned when Dean grabbed his cock. The younger man was completely inexperienced when it came to sleeping with men. He'd literally never touched another man's dick before. It was an odd sensation for him but not unpleasant. He moved his hand experimentally up and down the huge member. It was longer than his own, which by itself was impressive, and also thicker.

"Feels good, darlin'." Benny whispered encouragement in his sweet, husky Cajun accent. He reached for something sitting on a small bedside table within arm's reach: a little treasure box. He flipped it open with one hand, keeping the other on Dean's shoulder. In a second Dean saw what Benny was after: a bottle of lube. The Cajun man flicked the bottle open and poured a generous amount of the liquid on his hand and also gave some to Dean.

Taking Benny's lead, Dean stroked Benny's cock while the other did the same for him. It felt fucking amazing, and before even a few seconds had passed Dean was groaning and panting with pleasure.

But this was hardly as far as he wanted to take this. He wanted to fuck Benny good and hard; show him who was really a top, and that Benny could screw his 'premonitions.'

Dean abruptly let go of Benny's cock and he got up from his sitting position on the bed, consequently forcing his own cock out of the other man's grip.

"Get on the bed." Dean ordered with a smirk.

The Cajun man acquiesced readily, getting onto his hands and knees in the middle of the bed.

Dean put one hand on Benny's hip and with the other he felt between the man's firm buttocks to see what he had to work with. He knew anal sex would be a little bit different, but it couldn't be too different, right?

Slick fingers found a tight, nearly impenetrable ring of muscles and Dean could barely breach it with just one finger. It slid in all the way, and the action earned what sounded like a keen from Benny.

Dean took the likely-embarassing noise as a good sign and he added more lube to his hand in order to wriggle another finger into the impossibly tight ass.

Benny tensed, and he muffled a hiss with the soft cushion of the mattress.

"Relax, Benny. You're friggin' gonna break my fingers if you don't." Dean only half-joked.

"Sorry, Darlin'. It's… Been a while."

"It's okay. Just take a deep breath." Dean was not about to reveal the fact that he basically had no idea what he was doing. Once he felt Benny relax he withdrew his fingers and just for good measure he applied more lube. Without a single word or cue to his partner he pushed gently into the tight heat.

"Ohhhhh… fuck." Dean gasped. The warm, slick passage was nearly strangling his dick, it was so tight.

Benny didn't utter a word, merely a few pleasured grunts that fluctuated with each slight push and pull in and out. Dean was in heaven. The pleasure boiling up in his gut threatened to build up to a climax much sooner than he anticipated.

Trying not be a neglectful lover, the younger man reached his hand around to massage Benny's huge cock. He was slightly surprised to find that the erection had waned to a mere half-staff, and Dean took it as a clue to step up his game. He was being a real lousy top so far, but fuck… all of his knowledge, talents, and strategies went out the window the moment he put his dick in that tight hole. All he knew was the near crippling pleasure that hurled him to the edge of sanity and perhaps an inch further.

"God, Benny I don't think I'll last long. You're just too fucking tight." Dean picked up the pace of his hips, hoping that an increase of frequency in the painful tightness around his cock would eventually just turn into pain, and therefore it would help him stave off his orgasm.

Benny did not respond with words, merely a whine of a pitch Dean didn't think the gruff sailor capable of.

Dean's plan was not working. Despite his valiant efforts his orgasm was only seconds away. With the help of his slick hand he managed to get Benny to harden a little more while he fucked in and out of him at a brutally fast pace. It wasn't rough, by any means, just fast. And deep; gods, he was deep. Dean's balls slapped vulgarly against Benny's perineum with every thrust inside.

He knew he was going to come before Benny; something he prided himself in never doing when with a woman. But this… this was just so much better. Too much better, as a matter of fact.

"Oh fuck… Ben-" Dean was cut off by the sheer force of the climax that took over his body. He felt his hips buck of their own accord while he shot what must have been copious amounts of cum into Benny's ass.

Benny gave another keen when he felt Dean all but collapse against his back, seeking support.

"Oh God…" Dean sighed in absolute reverie. He refused to come up with any way to apologize for finishing early. Apologizing was the least sexy thing to do in bed, especially if you meant it. And he would mean it, so that meant he had to really keep a lid on it.

Dean sat up, albeit groggily, to take care of the slight bit of mess he felt developing around his junk. His softening dick slowly slipped out of its warm, slick sheath and Dean used a towel that was conveniently placed on the small side table to briefly clean up.

Benny noticeably shuddered and in the dim light Dean could see the ring of muscle attempting to tighten up to normal size. The hunter felt no disgust or squeamishness about what they had just done. He would do it again in a heartbeat if his refractory period wasn't a factor.

"I guess your 'premonition' was a little off, this time. But hey that's okay. I kind of have a way of tempting fate. I think it runs in my family." The young hunter said smugly.

All of the euphoric hormones still swimming around in Dean's brain made him lax. He hardly expected what happened next.

Before Dean had a second to register what was happening, Benny shot up from his place on the bed and after a confusing blur of motion Dean found himself getting tackled to the bed, face pressed into a pillow almost too far to allow air into his lungs.

"Mmmmmph!" Dean more exclaimed than objected. Benny lay his entire body weight on Dean's much lighter, smaller body while he made quick work to tie Dean's hands to the bed posts using lengths of rope that were already tied there. The poor lighting lended well to this sneaky move, as Dean was sure he would have noticed something like that earlier, if not for the dim room.

"That's where you're wrong, mon cher. 'Cuz my, my; look at the time." Benny forced Dean's chin right so his eyes were level with Benny's wrist, where the glow-in-the-dark analog watch clearly read: 11:45.

Dean grunted, trying not to reveal how much he regretted his cocky remark not twenty seconds earlier. Foot-in-mouth syndrome: another thing that ran in his family.