Hugs and kisses go to Night Angel 97, Snowin' You, Dark Gypsy 87 and Keefer. Thanks so much for reviewing chapter six! :)
Lady Haley Summerton waited for her fiancé, the Marquis of Winchester to bring her punch for her parched throat. The petite blonde had not stopped dancing the entire evening at the Prince Regent's annual Crystal Ball. Haley was astounded two months ago, when her father Lord Summerton informed the young girl, her long lost fiancé had returned from overseas. She was not a foolish eighteen year old debutante and knew the truth about her future husband's extra-curricular activities.
Haley had been affianced with Dean Winchester at birth since both of their fathers were close friends and business partners. The last time Haley had seen the Marquis, she was a tiny and skinny gapped tooth seven year old with freckles splattered all over her face. Her dear late mother started placing lemon extract over her face when Haley began her adolescence. Now she had a smooth and creamy complexion with barely any freckles in sight. Many of this season's debutantes envied Haley's looks and mostly for her being engaged to such a dangerous and attractive man.
Haley found Dean very handsome but there was no chemistry between the two of them. She read a plethora of Minerva romance novels and longed to be swept away by a tall, dark and mysterious stranger. Her fiancé interrupted her day dreaming by appearing beside her. Dean handed her a punch filled cup.
"Do you wish to sit down for a while and rest your pretty little feet?" Dean smiled and looked down at the girl. Crow's feet formed at the edges of his eyes.
"Kip Winters incessantly stepped on my toes during the quadrille."
Dean escorted her to a crimson settee located in an isolated corner. Haley's companion, Miss Tabitha Babcock glared at the Marquis. She entirely disapproved of the former pirate and did not desire for her charge to be married to the savage man. He did not even resemble the men of the Ton with his sun bronzed skin and rakish demeanor.
"You are a vision this evening, Lady Summerton. Gold is definitely your color since it brings out the honey flecks in your beautiful eyes." Dean felt like an actor on stage saying lines from a script. He loathed the frivolous London society he was born into. He entered a depressed state after turning Castiel and his crew to the French authorities. The bottle became his closest friend. One afternoon Lisa, his mistress and Sam confronted him on his problem with alcohol. It wasn't until they brought him in front of a mirror did Dean see the state he was in. A stranger gazed back at him. His skin was blotchy and a full beard covered his lower visage. His face was bloated and his eyes were puffy and irritated. Dean had gasped in shock.
Since that day he threw himself back in his former life. At first John was not thrilled to be reunited with his only son. The Duke had no other alternative but to reintroduce Dean to London society. The scoundrel was his sole heir and would be the next Duke of Winchester upon his death. Dean chose not to live under the same roof with the man he despised. He rented a modest bachelor flat close to Hyde Park. He barely visited Lisa due to the continuing visits from Castiel's ghost.
Haley smiled at Dean for giving her a compliment. Dean observed his fiancée discreetly. He felt nothing towards her but friendship. The girl was almost ten years his junior and the two of them barely shared anything in common. He did admire her for her beauty, sharp wit and intelligence, but Dean did not feel an inkling of desire towards his future wife. A pair of cerulean eyes came to his mind and Dean felt remorse. He did the cowardly thing in turning Castiel and his crew in to Napoleon. The rakish mercenary was dead now and it was his entire fault.
Most nights Dean would wake up bathed in sweat due to a recurring nightmare in which he witnessed Castiel be decapitated in the guillotine. Dean had been tempted to return to France and find the prison the Frenchman had been held captive in. He wished he could've been able to help him and his posse escape before their execution. Castiel would probably kill Dean after he saved him. He wouldn't blame him one bit.
"My lord, are you well? You have gone pale and seem to be elsewhere," Lady Summerton said as she stood up.
"I apologize, my dear girl. Will you please excuse me? I will go to the cards room and partake in a game of whist. I promise not to take long." Dean kissed her gloved hand.
Haley informed Miss Babcock she needed to take some fresh air in the veranda and wanted to go by herself. The companion reluctantly agreed. Once Haley was outside, she breathed in the sweet smell of gardenias and closed her eyes.
"Someone please alert God one of his angels has fallen from Heaven," a husky low voice said.
Haley jumped as soon as she heard the mysterious male voice. When she turned around towards the man, she saw he was standing smoking a cheroot behind a marble column. He slowly made his presence known in front of her. Haley took in a sharp breath. Here was a gorgeous man, who exuded an aura of sensuality and mystery. He seemed familiar and she wracked her brain trying to remember where she knew him from.
"I hope you are not accustomed to using such sappy lines with all the young ladies you meet," Haley said in between chuckles.
"Actually, no… this is the first time I meet an angel."
The man threw the cheroot on the grass and stomped on it with the boot of a gleaming black boot. His eyes which were a kaleidoscope of blue, green and amber gazed intensely at her entire form from head to toe. He laughed and moved closer. He stood at four inches over six feet and towered over her diminutive height.
"I am Samuel Wesson, unfortunately known as the Earl of Wesson. I have recently returned from a long exile abroad." He grinned at her revealing delicious dimples. "And you are the incomparable beauty of the season, Lady Summerton. Aren't you engaged to the Marquis of Winchester?"
"Do not play stupid with me, Lord Wesson. I know very well who you are and have seen you in several occasions leaving the Marquis' residence. You know damn well, who I am."
Sam admired the beauty's temper. He always had a weakness for women with strong backbones. He grabbed her hand. Haley became more enraged. "What do you think you are doing? Release me this instant!"
The earl smiled wantonly and crashed his mouth to hers. Haley tried to ward him off at first, but when those searing lips covered hers, she reveled in the intoxicating kiss. She placed her arms around his lean hips and granted his wicked tongue access inside her mouth. Their tongues clashed for what felt an eternity. All of a sudden, Haley heard Miss Babcock's nagging voice calling for her. The earl released Haley. He winked at her as he disappeared into the dark garden. Haley touched her swollen lips and for the first time in her young life discovered what desire truly felt like.
An hour after midnight the Marquis of Winchester returned to his modest bachelor abode in Regency Street. He had been in London for two entire months and he was weary of the social affairs he was required to attend due to his station. His reunion with his father at White's had been dreadful. His sire remained being an ass and told him it was about time he returned to resume his responsibilities. Dean avoided the old vulture as much as he could.
Why in bloody hell did he decide to give up his life at sea for good and return to England? The answer was pure and simple; the sea reminded him of Castiel. Dean headed to his bedchamber. Jonathan, who was his personal valet, dozed off in a chair by the toasty fireplace. Dean shook the lad and once he awoke, told him to go to sleep.
Dean untied a grey cravat from his neck and strolled leisurely towards him chamber. He heard noise coming from within. His eyes acclimated quickly to the dark. Dean moved slowly trying not to make a sound. He grabbed the pistol he always kept under a goose feather pillow. Dean entered the adjacent sitting room. He dropped the weapon on the oriental carpet. Castiel sat in the middle of his expansive copper tub smoking a cheroot.
Dean gulped hard. He was going to end up in Bedlam if he continued hallucinating this way. Castiel puffed hard on the cheroot while his eyes locked on Dean's astonished orbs. He withdrew it from his mouth and exhaled several smoke rings. The mercenary stood in the middle of the tub. Droplets of water cascaded down his body. "Be a darling and pass me a towel. It's the least you could do, you ver invertébré."
"Why can't you leave me the bloody hell alone?!" Dean flung the cravat on the canopied bed.
Castiel arched his raven brows. "You continue being the same ass, I see." He leapt out of the copper tub. He found a white monogrammed towel beside the tub. Castiel smirked. "Puits ne sommes-nous pas une princesse choyee?"
Dean closed his eyes and counted to twenty. He re-opened his eyes and Castiel finished wrapping the towel around his tapered waist. Why hadn't he disappeared this time? "Are you drunk?"
"No!"
"Then why are you acting more stupid than usual?" Castiel walked in a predatory manner closer to him. The smell of the honeysuckle soap Dean used to bathe hung heavily in the air. Ghost Castiel never emitted any form of smell in his previous apparitions. Dean blinked.
Castiel stood nose to nose with him. He cupped Dean's jaw with his callused right hand. "You are as beautiful as the last time I saw you rat quatre a jambes." Castiel caressed Dean's light stubble. Dean leaned in to the touch. The mercenary was casting a spell on him. Dean closed his eyes. He would wait and see how long the apparition would last.
Suddenly, two hands pressed into his neck. Dean opened his eyes. Castiel's enraged eyes stared at his own hands. Shit this was no ghostly visit. Castiel was alive! His eyes widened in realization. He instantly fought the deranged Frenchman. The two of them landed on the large bed. Castiel released his frantic hold on Dean's neck.
He received the shock of a lifetime, when Dean straddled him and stretched his arms upwards. Dean's hands interlaced with his as his mouth attacked Castiel's. He kissed the startled mercenary as if his life depended on it. His hands yanked the towel away from Castiel's lower body. "Is this really you, Castiel? You should be dead." He continued ravaging Castiel's mouth.
Cas rolled over. Now he was the one, who straddled the Phoenix. His eyes carefully took in Dean's genuine demeanor. "Am I wrong to assume you felt some remorse?"
Dean shook his head and turned his head to the side. He couldn't gaze at the flesh and blood Castiel that straddled him. "Regardez-moi!" The blue eyed man grabbed Dean's chin and forcefully pulled his head forward. "I am glad you felt remorse, you coward! You signed our death sentence. We were lucky to escape Mont Saint Michel."
"I wanted to return and search for you and help you escape." Dean's treacherous hands held on to Castiel's hipbones. His fingers leisurely trailed up his back. Dean frowned as soon as his fingers felt welts across Castiel's back.
He swallowed hard and blanched. "Those weren't there before." He gently placed Castiel in the middle of the bed. "Turn around" Dean gasped, when his eyes landed on Cas' back. He counted twelve welts. Dean bit his lower lip hard. This was his fault.
"Upon our arrival on the prison, the guards whipped me twelve times since I was the crew's captain. I was at the top of Napoleon's most wanted list. What did you expect a parade thrown in my honor?"
Dean touched one of the red welts. Castiel moved away. "I'm so sorry, Castiel. I hate myself for putting you through hell. I'll never be able to forgive myself." His voice broke. Dean inched closer. He kissed the longest welt. Castiel stiffened. He went on to kiss the other eleven. Before each welt he whispered to Castiel he was sorry.
"I thought you were only attracted to the female sex? Why this change all of a sudden?" Castiel inquired. Dean noticed his French accent was thicker than usual. This caused all of his blood to travel down south.
Dean did not respond verbally. He kissed the back of Castiel's neck. The Frenchman closed his eyes. This was not the reason why he came to pay Dean a midnight visit. Unfortunately, things always ended this way between the two of them. It was like a raging inferno that could never be completely extinguished.
"I am so sorry for my bastard of a father and everything he took away from you." Dean's muscular arms enveloped Castiel's torso. "And I am sorry for what I did to you and your crew. I know I don't deserve your forgiveness."
Castiel remained silent as Dean's mouth and hands tried to erase bitter memories. He turned around and kissed Dean longingly. Castiel had never experienced such confusing emotions. He loathed the Phoenix but at the same time he felt something tender towards his sworn enemy's son. He shook his head.
"Lie down, Dean." His voice came out huskier than usual.
Dean obeyed with no hesitation. Castiel pulled him up to sit down. He removed Dean's bottle green jacket and threw it against the wallpapered wall. Castiel slowly undid the silver cufflinks. He was taking too long so Dean yanked off the white long sleeved shirt. Most of the buttons flew in the air. Castiel kissed him hard and chuckled. "Someone is tres impatient."
Dean pulled him to cover his body. They kissed hungrily as Castiel yanked Dean's Hessian boots and stockings. The Phoenix hastily removed his trousers. Finally, his body felt the smooth ridges of Castiel's torso slide deliciously with his. Dean had never felt so much want for another person in his entire life and it scared him.
Castiel jumped out of the bed. "Where are you going?" Dean asked as he sat up again.
"I should have come close to death, when we first met," Castiel said before laughing. He retrieved something from his discarded jacket's inner pocket. The mercenary returned to the bed. He squirted something into his large hand.
"What is that?" Dean asked.
"During my last trip to India, a rich man assigned me to retrieve a fortune one of his former friends stole from him. When I returned, he gifted Michael and me with six of his concubines. It was a night the two of us would never forget. We were given certain items that enhance sexual pleasure."
Dean scowled upon hearing Michael's name. For a moment he had forgotten about the existence of Castiel's lover. He kissed Castiel to keep him from speaking. The dark haired man planted his right hand over Dean's member. It was already semi hard. Castiel grinned wickedly. This was going to be so much fun.
He rubbed the aloe and olive oil lubricant leisurely over Dean's cock and balls. Dean started breathing heavily. He was afraid he was going to cum before the good part started. Castiel stroked his staff with one hand while the other one fondled his balls. Dean's feet dug deeply into the mattress. "God Cas, you're fucking amazing."
Castiel was feeling bold. So he gingerly slid one of his lubricated fingers into Dean's entrance. Dean flinched but told him to continue what he was doing. Cas knew the Phoenix was close to climaxing. He grabbed a small black rubber circular item. Dean's eyes were closed. He did not see what the other man was up to. When he felt Castiel wrap something around his swollen and throbbing phallus, it was too late. "What the hell are you doing?" He was so close to the precipice.
Castiel's long index finger covered his lips. "This is a cock ring. Its purpose is to make the experience last longer. You won't climax until I remove it."
Castiel shoved Dean away from him. He had brought along with him Dean's abandoned cravat. Castiel stretched out the Phoenix's arms over his head. He swiftly tied the wrists tightly with the piece of cloth. His eyes landed on Dean's Adam's apple. "Are you scared?"
"I am not scared of anything." Dean told him defiantly. Although he thought to himself, "I am terrified that I am falling in love with you."
"C'est mon capitaine courageux." Castiel brushed his long and wide tongue down Dean's torso. The green eyed man writhed under his ministrations.
"You have no idea what you do to me, when you speak in French," he murmured huskily.
"Why do you think I do it?" Castiel's mouth performed wicked things on his crimson cock. Dean thought it would swell even more and cause the bloody cock ring to pop off.
Castiel spread Dean's legs open. His tongue licked a trail below Dean's engorged phallus until it found its intended destination. It slid inside Dean's hole causing the man to jump in midair. Castiel's hands held on tightly to Dean's hips as his tongue licked Dean languidly. "Castiel, you fucker, remove the damn ring now!" His hands clung to Castiel's dark unruly hair.
Dean felt as if he was going to pass out. He needed to be brought to release now. Castiel finally took pity on him. He wiped his mouth before standing up. He smirked at Dean. "What are you waiting for?" Dean asked.
Castiel headed to his discarded clothes and got dressed. Dean narrowed his eyes at him. The fucker was going to leave him like this! The Frenchman finished pulling up his worn boots. He strolled towards the bed while adjusting the collar of his dark coat. Dean struggled to remove the cravat from his wrists. Castiel had tied it too damn tight. "Castiel, untie me right now!"
The mercenary sat next to him on the bed. He leaned close to Dean and kissed him softly on the lips. One of his hands tugged his swollen and red phallus one last time. "I hate you, Castiel!" Dean screamed at the top of his lungs.
"We both know you don't." Castiel opened the French doors. He glanced at Dean one last time and winked at him; before escaping through the double doors.
"Castiel, you are going to pay for this!" Dean yelled.
Translations:
ver invertebre spineless worm
"Puis ne sommes-nous pas une princesse choyee?" "Well aren't we a pampered princess?"
rat quatre a jambes four legged rat
"Regardez-moi!" "Look at me!"
tres impatient very impatient
"C'est mon capitaine courageux." "That's my courageous captain."
