Chapter 4

We eventually cleaned ourselves up and made our way to the Lodge for lunch. The food at the Dining Room was excellent, easily one of the best meals we'd ever had. My Cobb salad was hearty and flavorful, and Dean sounded like he wanted to make love to his burger. Accompanying our meal was a fruit punch of orange, mango, and passionfruit juices.

After lunch, we meandered around the resort for a while. The island was serene and, with the exception of the area around the Lodge and main beach, blissfully quiet. The buildings, with their island-style design and lush landscaping, seemed a natural extension of the tropical setting. We saw a few people on the paths, but most of the guests congregated at the Lodge, marina, or one of the beaches.

Upon returning to our bungalow, we set about unpacking our clothes and toiletries. The few weapons we brought—just our two handguns, a silver bowie knife, and the demon-killing knife—were locked up in the safe, where hopefully they'd stay for the duration of our honeymoon. We then perused the literature the resort had provided on their various amenities and activities to plan the next few days. Dinner was back at the Dining Room, where we tried the chef's seven-course tasting menu. Afterwards, we lit the fire pit on our private beach and relaxed on the lounge chairs, drinking beers and watching the stars together.

The next morning, after a brisk jog on a path that circumnavigated most of the island and then a breakfast of eggs, toast, and smoked fish on our deck—we'd elected to have the morning meals served in our bungalow for a more leisurely start to the day—we went to the main beach near the Lodge. Beaches weren't something we got to visit often. Few hunts took us to coastal resort areas and gave us the time to enjoy our surroundings. The beaches we did get to see tended to be noisy and crowded.

This beach, however, was as peaceful as the rest of Chavah Island. There were no more than a dozen people here, playing in the water or on the sand or reclining on lounge chairs under shady umbrellas. We dropped our towels, shoes, and drinks onto a pair of chairs and immediately pelted for the ocean. We horsed around in the warm water until our fingers and toes turned pruney, swimming back and forth, body surfing in the gentle waves, and of course splashing, dunking, and chasing each other around.

Once we tired of the water, I traipsed back to the umbrella we'd claimed, where I cursorily dried myself off and collapsed onto one of the loungers. I laid back and began reading The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest. Dean meanwhile got waylaid by an attractive young woman building an ambitiously large and detailed sand castle. Judging by her tawny slit-pupiled eyes and short black claws, I took his new companion to be a kitsune.

I'd been engrossed in my book for a while when I heard someone drawl, "My, my, don't you look simply delicious!"

I glanced up and saw Edith standing under the neighboring umbrella, holding a bloody Mary and eyeing me in my swim trunks approvingly. I smiled back at her. "Good morning! That's not tomato juice in your cocktail, is it?"

She laughed as she sat down. "No, it's the finest A-positive the resort has to offer. How do you like your bungalow so far?"

"It's amazing! Dean and I aren't really used to staying in luxurious places like this, so we're grateful to be here for our honeymoon." I paused and looked up at the brightly sunny sky, then back at her. "I hope you don't mind my asking, but isn't a tropical resort kind of . . . awkward for you?"

"I don't mind at all—as you said before, you've never stayed in a place designed to cater people like us. The resort has a warding on it to block out ultraviolet radiation, so no chance of anyone getting sunburnt here. Including your pretty spouse, who I imagine would freckle terribly otherwise!" she explained with a smile.

Don spoke up from the chair on the other side of his mate. "Speaking of which, you gonna let your boy play you like that, mate? Already having trouble keeping him satisfied?"

I looked over at Dean, who was happily flirting with the kitsune while helping with her sand castle. I paused to admire my brother before responding, enjoying how the sunlight gleamed off his wet blond hair and the brass amulet around his neck, how the water droplets glistened on his broad chest and taut abdomen, how his trunks clung to his lean hips and curved ass.

I raised an eyebrow at the male vampire. "First off, I don't let him do anything—he's my husband, not my pet. And I'm glad to see he's having a good time. I'm not so insecure that I can't handle him paying a little harmless attention to someone else."

"Yeah, whatever." Don rolled his eyes, then noticed Edith glaring at him. "What? I'm supposed to pretend it's okay that you're making friends with a pair of sodding poofters and watching 'em run around on each other?"

While she lit into Don, I reached out. Dean? Dean!

What's up, Sam? He must've felt my irritation and became concerned. Hey man, you know I'm only—

No, no, I'm not pissed at you. I'm happy you're enjoying yourself, really! But I need you to come over here and start hitting on Edith in front of this narrow-minded asshat.

He snickered. Is that right? You sure she won't mind?

I'm pretty sure she'll be cool with it. She thinks you're cute, I assured him.

'Course she does—she's a classy lady with good taste! Hmm, I got a better idea to get this Spike-wannabe's fucking goat.

Dean leaned over and said something to his new friend, then stood and brushed the sand off his long bowed legs. He sauntered over to me with a smile and threaded a hand through my hair. Before I could say anything, he bent down, fitted his mouth to mine, and proceeded to try to extract my tonsils with his tongue. I moaned and attempted to reciprocate as my brain shut down. I vaguely heard Don swear in disgust and stomp off.

My husband pulled back, his smile curling into a smirk. "Need a minute there, Sam?"

"Wh—what? Umm . . . yeah." I shakily wiped at my mouth before looking over at Edith.

"You two don't need to stop on my account!" she said, fanning herself and grinning. Her face grew serious. "I want to apologize for Don's behavior. Normally he's a decent guy, but sometimes he forgets he's not in Victorian London anymore."

"Don't worry, we ain't gonna hold him against you. We've had to deal with way bigger douchebags before," Dean replied. "I'm gonna head over to the Lodge to grab lunch for the two of us. You want anything?"

She held up her glass. "Another one of these would be lovely. Thank you!"

He nodded, gave me a quick kiss, and ambled off.

We both watched his rear end as he walked away, and then Edith glanced at me. "Wherever did you find him? And are there any more like him at home, preferably unattached?"

I laughed at her cheerful lasciviousness. "Sorry, I'm afraid Dean's one of a kind. We grew up together. My dad took Dean in after he was orphaned, when he was five and I was still a baby. He practically raised me, since Dad was always busy with work. I fell in love with him when I was thirteen years old, because he's everything I could ever want—strong, smart, gorgeous, brave, kind, funny, you name it. We haven't been a couple for very long—he didn't fall for me until years later, and then we wasted a lot of time not realizing that the other felt the same—but I can't imagine wanting anyone else."

"You both are quite lucky. Don and I have been together since the height of the Roaring Twenties, and I couldn't do without him," she said with a fond expression.

"I don't know if I'll live that long, but I do know that I plan to spend all of it with him. So, how did you two meet?"

She entertained me with reminiscences about their courtship until Dean returned. He gave her the fresh bloody Mary and handed me a plate with an ahi tuna burger and fruit salad before tucking into his pulled pork sandwich and fries. I looked at his blissful face and wondered how difficult it would be for him to learn to prepare meals like this. He was already a fairly talented cook, and good food always gave him such unadulterated pleasure.

As we finished eating, I heard frenzied barking, and an excited yellow puppy pelted up to me and planted his butt on my foot. I rubbed at his ears as Susan and Joe walked over and set their stuff up nearby. Tyler grabbed a Frisbee from his parents, and I threw it for him while Dean continued to converse with Edith.

After the pup finally tired himself out, Dean and I joined Miko the kitsune and a handful of others in a game of beach volleyball. Then the two of us walked over to the marina, where we raced around on jet skis for a couple hours. Riding around on those made me see the appeal motorcycles had to some, though I imagined wiping out would be a lot less fun.

It was nearly evening by the time we returned to our bungalow. We left our sandals on the deck and went directly to the bathroom.

"Had fun today, kiddo?" my brother asked as he dropped his swimsuit onto the tiled floor.

"God, yes! We need to go to the beach more often after this." I draped my trunks on the counter and walked into the enormous shower.

He followed me in and fiddled with the controls. This thing reminded me of the steam showers at the cursed development in Oasis Springs, with multiple jets on each wall and two rainfall shower heads hanging from the ceiling. After a few moments, sinfully hot water began to spray on us at an amazing pressure.

Dean turned to me with a pleased grin. "Dude, do ya remember us talking 'bout what we wanted to do after stopping the damn Apocalypse? We were on our way to see Bobby and tell him 'bout me. I think your psychic powers musta been working already, 'cause we've got the ginormous shower with endless hot water and big fluffy towels!"

"You were the one who came up with the idea of a warm, secluded getaway, so I'd say I wasn't the only one channeling some precog that day." I leaned down to kiss him.

We quickly soaped up and scrubbed each other off to sluice the salt and sand from our skin and hair. Once we were clean, our movements became more leisurely. We used our hands and mouths to caress each other's body, to map out all the points that made the other gasp or sigh in pleasure. I ended up pressing the smaller man against the wall, hungrily devouring his mouth and watching the water drip from the ends of his dark gold hair and long lashes and stream down his fair skin and sleek muscles.

As his green eyes fluttered halfway shut, I slid down onto my knees and took the head of his hard cock in my mouth. I laved his glans with my tongue and ran the tip along his slit and down his frenulum. He groaned and grasped at my head as I first licked up his shaft from base to head and then swallowed down as much as I could. I bobbed up and down on his length repeatedly, sucking and lapping around his member. At the same time, I clasped his scrotum in one hand and gently rolled his testicles between my fingers. It wasn't much longer until his breathing stuttered and his hands stiffened in my hair, and I had just enough time to pull back a little before his sticky load shot into my mouth.

I swallowed and licked away a few stray salty drops as I stood, while my brother slumped back and tried to catch his breath. Before he could move, I grabbed him by the hips and hoisted him up. He swiftly wrapped his arms around my neck and legs around my waist as I brought him down on my cock, sheathing it in his snug channel. I shoved him against the wall and started to thrust into him relentlessly.

"Fuck, Dee! You feel amazing on my cock!" I panted.

He keened and squeezed his inner walls around me whenever my member brushed his prostate. I buried my face in the crook of his neck, sucking and worrying my mark onto his skin, and continued to plunge into his slick depths. His hands slid down to dig into my shoulders as he began lifting his pelvis up and bringing it down on my shaft in time with my strokes into his silky passage. His passion heightened with each push against his sweet spot, and his love enveloped me as tightly as his limbs enfolding my body.

I lifted my head from my lover's neck to meet his lust-blown eyes, then crushed my mouth against his. After coming up again for air, I gripped his hips firmly and started to pound into him vigorously. He gasped my name each time I drove into his hot channel, his breathy voice barely audible over the sound of our flesh slamming together. With a loud cry, he clamped down around my cock while ejaculating between us. Only seconds later, I climaxed deep inside him.

Dean dropped his legs down, and we leaned against each other and breathed heavily for a minute, the still hot water falling around us. We eventually turned the shower off and dried ourselves off with the oversized towels hanging nearby. He then took my hand and led me outside onto the deck, wearing nothing but his amulet and wedding ring.

He sank down on the daybed and smiled lazily up at me, his eyes briefly flashing silver in the fading sunlight. "Dude, we gotta get a shower like that of our own someday!"

I pulled the curtains on this side of the deck closed before stretching out beside him. "Yeah, it sure would be nice."

The thought made me momentarily sad. Getting our own fancy shower would of course first entail having our own house. As much as I longed to have a home of our own though, I couldn't see that happening anytime soon. My brother loved hunting and helping people too much, and I couldn't ask him to give that up. Our settling down would have to wait until we were too old or too injured to hunt anymore.

The other man must've sensed my emotions and gave me a concerned look. What's the matter, Sammy? You sure you ain't upset 'bout me flirting with Miko earlier?

No, I really was happy to see you having a good time with her, I hastened to assure him. I know it used to bug me, but it . . . it just didn't feel right when you stopped after . . . well, you know. So I'm glad that you're feeling relaxed enough to pay attention to a pretty girl! And I do trust you.

He was pleased. Well, that's good. So what is bothering you then?

I didn't want to make him feel guilty, so I came up with something equally true. It's nothing major. I'm just going to miss this place when our two weeks here are up.

Yeah, this place is totally awesome. Maybe we can start a tradition of going somewhere nice for our anniversary? It won't be anywhere as expensive as this, but we can still find someplace memorable.

I leaned over to kiss him, surprised and delighted as always whenever he came up with something romantic. That would be great! You're incredible, you know that?

Yeah, yeah, I'm freaking Romeo or some shit. His satisfaction was now tinged with embarrassment. "We don't hafta get ready for dinner for a while, right?"

"Our reservation isn't until eight, so we should have over an hour. Why?"

In response, Dean rolled over until he was straddling my waist, his hands resting on my chest and his ass brushing against my groin. He bent down and pressed his lips to mine. We exchanged long, languid kisses for a while and let our hands wander over each other's body. Feeling my ardor rising, he eventually shimmied back and sank down on my erect cock, encasing me in his taut heat.

He initially just sat there, gently rocking his hips and looking down at me with large bright eyes. He began to slowly rise up and lower himself down, the velvety walls of his passage constricting around me. I placed one hand on his freckled hip and stroked his dusky member with the other. He hummed and half-closed his eyes in pleasure, and the movement of his pelvis quickened.

"Yeah, baby boy . . . wish we could stay like this all the time," he sighed. I could feel my husband's gratification at being filled and stretched, accompanied by sharp bursts of bliss whenever his prostate was rubbed.

He continued to ride me at a brisk pace, and I started to thrust up into him while maintaining my grip on his shaft. Before long, the moist warmth and silky pressure of his channel overwhelmed me, and I came inside him with a shout. The moment my seed spurted against his inner membranes, he gasped and clenched around me and ejaculated onto my belly. He collapsed onto my chest, and I turned so that we were resting on our sides.

We lay there for several minutes, curled around each other, and watched the spectacular colors of the tropical sunset. I ran a hand through my lover's rumpled hair and listened to his happy purr, content not to move. After a while, he carefully pulled himself off my cock and sat up.

"We gotta get dressed soon. And it looks like we hafta clean up again," Dean commented, rubbing at the drying semen on his stomach.

"It's breezy enough out here that neither of us got sweaty, so a wet washcloth should do the trick. Don't forget to shave though." At his raised eyebrow, I explained, "I like you better clean-shaven, Dee."

"You know I don't do this to look like some douchebag sex symbol-wannabe. The stubble helps folks take me more seriously—makes me look older and less fucking pretty." The last word was spat in disgust as he swung his legs around and put his feet on the deck.

I stood abruptly and caught his face between my hands. You don't need to hide behind a mask of any kind—not stubble or macho attitude or any of that bullshit. Anyone who discounts you as just a pretty face is a fucking dumbass, man. Me, Bobby, our friends, other hunters, we know the truth. You're a hero, long lashes and kissable lips and all.

Speaking as someone who knows exactly how badass you are, I love how you've been lately—young and beautiful and carefree. That's the big brother I want to see, not one who's pretending to be someone he's not to impress a bunch of strangers. Hell, I'd love it even more if you let yourself stop aging and got rid of your scars, which I know you can do. Then you'd be like how I see you—perfect and gorgeous and all mine. I tugged him up onto his feet and kissed him deeply.

He put his arms around my waist and rested his head on my shoulder. Don't ya think people might notice if my scars suddenly disappeared and I never got older? Particularly once you get older than I look now?

The scars themselves are more likely to draw the wrong kind of attention, dude, I pointed out. I'm a bit worried someone here might figure out we're hunters because of them, and I doubt that will go over well in a place like this. But we're never around normal people long enough, so the only people who might wonder about the lack of scars or aging would be other hunters. We can always use Cas to explain those away, or my psychic powers or something.

And don't worry about me. If you do this, so will I. I can see if your healing factor will work on me for more than just injuries. Or I can find out if my own abilities can do as much as Bobby theorized they can.

"I'll hafta think 'bout this first. Most of my scars are kinda a part of me now—I don't need to think 'bout 'em to make sure they still show up after a shift. So it'd be fucking weird to not have 'em anymore, like how I looked right after I got outta Hell." He pushed away and walked back inside.

I followed him inside. "Your scars aren't what defines you. They're just a reminder of all the bad shit we've gone through. So think of this as a new beginning—we saved the goddamn world, and we deserve a clean slate. You'll still be you without them, maybe even a better, happier you."

Dean shrugged. "Maybe you're right, Sammy. I guess I'm so used to hiding what I am, even after all these months. The scars were part of the camouflage, 'cause they're what a normal human would have after the crap we've survived. Even being here, not having to use the damn eye drops, being able to shift if I want, feels fucking surreal. But like you said, maybe it's time to stop hiding, especially around you."

I put a hand on his shoulder. "It's your call, big brother. Either way, you know I love you, with or without the masks."