"So, um, you've never … I mean … you haven't … seriously? Come on. At least a hand job? Blow job? No one but you touched your …"

"Do you have to talk about this here? And so loudly? We have work to do." Hansel cut Dean off and ducked his head, his cheeks red from embarrassment; why the hell wouldn't Dean shut up? It's not like he'd had lots of opportunities; yes, there had been willing girls along the way, grateful for their rescue. If he'd been into that sort of thing, he'd been pretty damn experienced by now. But finding a guy who'd even admit to being interested, much less was willing to do anything about it? That wasn't going to happen with the way they traveled from place to place, always on the trail of another witch. So he'd just handled it himself; what was wrong with that?

Dean grinned at him, completely aware of his change of topic, letting the man off the hook for the moment. "Fine. But we're definitely taking this up later."

It had all started after the kiss … the very hot, very distracting kiss. Dean immediately turned all business, trailing after the two women. When Dean returned, he knew their names and where they worked. The whole time he was gone, Hansel waited, angry at that bitch Cassandra … and flustered from that be-damned kiss. He had been kissed before, but nothing like this that made him want to abandon the hunt and find a dark corner. He was musing about the whole situation when Dean jokingly said "Don't worry; I'll add you to my to-do list." Hansel had stammered and blushed and, damn, the man knew. For the umpteenth time he wished Gretel was here; she'd laugh at him and tell him to deal with it.

"Okay, Sammy and I are going to recon Cassandra and the other woman, maybe i.d. some coven members. But first I'm going to take you to the hotel." He tossed Hansel a hooded cloak he'd brought back with him. "Last thing we need is her making you and running before we can get the kids."

"Fine." Dean had a point. Cassandra probably already knew he was here – his arrival was pretty loud as spells went - and he didn't want to tip their hand and spook her. What he wanted was to kill the bitch, but only after he found out how to get back to Gretel. Donning the cloak, he followed Dean out of the faire and into a field with row after row of metal contraptions, wagons without horses. Dean stopped at a black one and opened the door; what the hell, Hansel thought as he slid into the seat, in for a penny. "Does this run on electricity?"

"You know about that?" Dean seemed surprised.

"We used machines. Saw a blacksmith who ran an engine with waterpower. Whatever we could use to fight the witches." He didn't jump when the machine roared to life, and he watched Dean maneuver it onto the road. "Look, while you're following her, I can do some research or put together hex bags if you have the components. Do you have books?"

Dean laughed. "You are so going to love the internet, dude. Brand new virgin territory for you."

Hansel gave him a scorching look, but Dean only laughed.

….

Hot water from the ceiling. A toilet that flushed waste away. Water that ran from pipes and down a drain. A miraculous little silver box that could give him any information he wanted by just writing a few words. A box in the wall that blasted cold air. And a thing called a TV that told stories in pictures. He was completely impressed by the advances that made life better. Standing in the shower that Dean had shown him how to work, he remembered Dean's rather pointed suggestion about sharing. As the hot water washed away the grime and soot from earlier, he let himself think about having Dean behind him, his hands slipping over Hansel's body, down his hips, sliding around to touch his hard erection. He imagined his hand was Dean's and he stroked his length, root to tip, moaning at the thought of green eyes and soft lips and …

A creak, then a quiet scuff – Hansel left the shower running to cover his movements as he dragged on his pants and grabbed his leather coat. Another slight bump, near the door; he waited, hand on the knob, until he thought he heard a sigh. Pushing out quickly, he rammed the door into the person on the other side, knocking him backwards. With a jab, he punched into the soft middle, knocking breath out, then grabbing a wrist and twisting; body slammed into the wall face first, as he bent the man's arm across his back, leaning in to hold him in place.

"Dude! Chill. It's me." Dean complained. "Hair trigger much? This is my room, remember?"

Hansel held him. "Why sneak in on me?"

"I was going for the fridge to get beers. I brought dinner." White bags with colorful logos sat on the small table; his stomach rumbled at the smell. "Of course, if you'd rather play rough, I'm sure the food will heat up."

Dropping his hold, he let Dean go. "I could eat. Been a long time since breakfast. What's happening with Cassandra?" He walked over to the table and began rummaging in the bags. Everything was wrapped in paper for some reason, but he managed to find a sort of sandwich, and what looked like small sliced potatoes. "What is this?" he asked after a tentative bite; he'd never tasted anything like it but he recognized beef and lettuce and tomatoes. He sank down on the edge of the bed with his food.

He had to look when Dean remained still and silent; he'd only know the man a little while, but that was long enough to understand that if Dean Winchester's mouth was quiet, something was wrong. Green eyes were staring at him, darkening with intensity as he looked Hansel over from wet hair down to bare feet.

"Good god, Hansel. The pants I understand; I'd stop to put mine on too. But the coat?" He shook his head as if to clear it. "Damn. You look like something right out of a porno pirate movie."

"The coat has warding layered over it. It can stop any number of spells." He decided the sandwich was good. Or he was starving. Either way, he tucked into eating it.

"Porno, dude. You need a porno name if you're going to sit there in that outfit." Dean crossed the room and grabbed two beers from the small cooler, passing one to Hansel. "I know! Hans Stroker!"

"What is porno?" Hansel didn't understand half of what Dean was talking about. Come to think of it, he shouldn't be able to understand Dean at all; why was someone in the 21st Century speaking perfect 18th century German? Why was everyone speaking German and all the information on the … interweb?... in German?

"Pornography? Did people perform sex for entertainment in your time?" Dean's look was positively wicked as he dropped that little bomb.

"Cassandra?" Hansel opted to ignore Dean, blushing again. Yes, he knew what Dean was talking about, and he didn't want to spend any more time thinking about it with Dean sitting in a chair too close for comfort.

"Accounted for at the moment. She's in the royal box right next to the queen. Sam's got eyes on her for the whole show, at least three hours. He'll call if she moves. She met with too many people to narrow down a list of possible suspects." Dean unwrapped and bit into his sandwich. "You find anything?"

"I found an old story about a witch who killed a baker's dozen all to gain the, and I quote, "power of the ages, the fount of all magic." No clue what that is. Damn spells, everything is riddles. It doesn't make sense, though; the spell clearly calls for four groups of three and then a single final sacrifice. If they've taken 7, that should only be 1 from here. Could you have missed any?" Hansel asked. "She drew from different towns in my time, far apart, so it was difficult to track her. People don't always notice what's going on in other places."

"Could be. Easy enough to cross the border into Mexico or state lines." Dean toed off his boots and propped his feet on the bed as he ate. "You think she's further along than we originally suspected?"

"The final three plus one is supposed to happen on the ninth dark of the moon of the ninth year of the century. That's tomorrow night."

"Damn. That gives them less than a day to find, what, 6 more vics? Are you sure about this?" Dean didn't seem convinced.

"Never said it made any sense." Hansel watched as Dean wadded up the paper wrappers and casually toss them into a basket by the wall. He folded his neatly and sat them on the table to reuse later. "Just that it's the closest I've seen to the markings on the children."

"She has to be holding them somewhere, probably not far. We need to find out where those kids are and where this spell is going down tomorrow night." Dean sighed at the amount of unanswered questions. Hansel was impressed with the level of intensity Dean could bring to bear on the problem, how quickly he shifted out of playful mood to serious. Gretel was like that; more able to let things go and enjoy life; he tended to hang back, be more cautious. Yet another reason he rarely dated anyone; Gretel charmed men easily … when she wanted too and wasn't head-bashing them for their stupidity … but he was usually more reserved.

"I called Bobby," Dean said. "He's tracking down information on her. Soon as we know more about her aliases, we can start narrowing down the field."

"And maybe find a way to get me back where I belong. Gretel's probably going crazy looking for me." Hansel felt the severed connection between them keenly. "It's been pretty much just us since our parents died."

"Yeah, I understand that. Got to keep the little brother out of trouble. He disappeared awhile back and I had to hunt him down to save him. Of course, he'd done a pretty good job of saving himself by the time I got there." Pride was evident in Dean's voice when he talked about his brother; he tilted his beer bottle towards Hansel. "We'll get you back; we've got the contacts and resources to find a way."

"I appreciate it. Actually, I'm grateful for your help. Lucky you were the first person to find me. Could have been much worse if one of the coven got there." The question of why she'd sent him here hung in the air, unanswered.

"Well, lucky in a couple of ways." Dean dropped his feet and sat his bottle on the table; rising, he braced his hands on the bed, leaning down towards Hansel. "It pissed the witches off … and I'm all for making their lives as hellish as possible. Also, your information will help stop them. But even better, I got to hear you jacking off in the shower."

"You just enjoy giving people a hard time, don't you?" The words were out of his mouth before he realized the double meaning, but it was too late. Green eyes glittered with amusement as Hansel leaned his head back to see Dean better.

"Not everyone. Just certain pirate porn stars who wear leather coats and lace up pants and nothing else." Dean's lips quirked up in a smile. Damn, but Dean's eyelashes were thick and full, so easy to see from this distance. "And since I seem to have interrupted your earlier activities before successful completion, I thought I'd offer to help you out."

"So you were listening at the door?" One hand curled around Hansel's neck, Dean's thumb resting along Hansel's cheek; his mouth was so close now that Hansel could feel the little puffs of breath. "You like to watch?

"Oh, you have no idea. But right now, I want to participate." Dean's teeth nipped at his bottom lip to keep from laughing. Expecting it, Hansel was surprised when Dean's lips barely grazed his, the lightest of touches; his eyes had drifted shut in anticipation, and he opened them to see Dean studying his face. "What color are your eyes? Blue? Green? Gray? Damn."

The next kiss was smooth, a caress that molded the contours of their mouths together then slid them apart to make a return pass. Dean's hand tightened, tilting Hansel's head further. The tip of Dean's tongue eased across Hansel's closed lips, into the depths of his mouth. Tentative brushes inside gave way to a languid exploration; Dean's other hand curved around Hansel's waist, beneath his coat. The kiss continued, lips parted now, their tongues tangling together as Dean lay Hansel back onto the bed, straddling his body, knees on either side of Hansel's hips.

"Going to teach you so much." Dean pulled back to look; Hansel felt laid out before the man, his chest bare to his gaze. "Lesson one. The importance of friction."

He brought their hips together, grinding his cock against Hansel's aching one. Gods, but that felt amazing, not just the rubbing, but specifically the Dean's obvious bulge, the knowledge in each pass of leather against leather of how much Dean wanted him. Tugging off the mail first, Dean stripped down to just his pants, keeping a steady rhythm riding their cocks back and forth, then he came back down on his hands, tilting his body forward, but keeping their hips in constant contact.

"Like that? Not the same as touching yourself, is it?"

"No. It's … it's… ah, hell," was all Hansel could answer, too busy touching Dean's skin with his hands, running his fingers up and down, clasping them at the base of Dean's spine to hold on.

"Now, lesson two. Let's see where your buttons are." He lowered his head and nipped at the line of muscle on the side of Hansel's throat. "Time to make you jump."

And he did, many times; when he bit down on Hansel's earlobe, licked the line of his collarbone, and sucked a bruise into his shoulder. He made Hansel swear when he barely grazed his nipple with a passing finger, so he set about seeing how many colorful phrases he could coax out of him, biting and licking and sucking until Hansel thought he was going to come right then from nothing but that. It took both of his hands to push Dean's head up from his skin, and Dean only chuckled at the ragged breathing and wild look in Hansel's eyes.

"This," Dean told him, running a finger down from Hansel's bellybutton to the top of his pants, following the thin line of dark hair, "is a love line … or as I like to call it, a fuck-me arrow." When Dean's hips pulled away, Hansel protested, but then Dean's tongue dropped into the indentation, swirling before he followed the trail downward. Hansel bit out Dean's name and arched his back up to meet Dean's mouth; Dean ran the heel of his hand along Hansel's cock before he worked the laces free and tugged the pants off, sliding off the edge of the bed to toss them onto a chair. "Damn, dude, I can't wait to get my mouth on that."

Hansel watched as Dean sat back down and leisurely ran one finger up the length of Hansel's cock, circling the head and tracing the cleft. Just that light touch nearly drove Hansel insane; he groaned and begged, "Dean, please."

Dean laughed as his hand cupped Hansel's balls. "Not going to take much, is it?"

Hansel bucked as Dean's tongue swirled around the edge of his head and ran down and up the aching shaft. Dean's lips parted, and Hansel felt the moist heat of Dean's mouth, the pull as he sucked in, the slide up, a constant rhythm of ecstasy; tight and hot and so damn good that Hansel's hips jolted up, his hands burrowing into Dean's hair. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he moaned the words, not wanting Dean to stop. He floated, tension rising; god, he was going to come soon and spectacularly from the feel of his muscles clenching and the way his chest was heaving. Just as he felt he was about to fall over the edge, the sensation stopped, and he looked down to see Dean's eyes, dark with lust, staring back at him.

"Oh, no, not yet. I've got more planned for you, Candy Boy." He left the bed and Hansel watched him dig into his duffle bag, bending over, his ass was encased in the tight leather, tossing some things on the coverlet of the double bed. "I'm going to be so deep inside you that you're going to dream about me for a long time."

As Dean started to work the laces, Hansel sat up on his elbows. "Let me. I have lots of experience taking off pants."

"Go for it," Dean put his hands on his hips. "Lesson three: ask for what you want."

Hansel got up off the bed and shed his coat, tossing it over the back of a chair; at Dean's look, he shrugged. "Don't know if it will … um … affect the spells."

"Well, witches do seem to be hung up on bodily fluids," Dean agreed, but he was clearly amused by the whole line of thought. But Hansel's fingers wiped that away as soon as they brushed over Dean's cock, making quick work of opening the leather; tugging down the sides, Hansel dropped down to one knee as he took the pants down to the floor where Dean could step out of them. The move also brought his mouth to the level of Dean's hips; hands skimmed back up Dean's legs, curving over his ass, ending with a firm hold on hips. Their eyes met just before Hansel's tongue tentatively circled the velvety head, licking off a drop of pearly liquid as he traced the cleft; at Dean's soft "damn," Hansel smiled and got bolder, tongue running along the top and then back up the underside of Dean's cock a few times as he got used to the sensation. Dean tasted like salt and sweat, and each pass made him groan; his eyes closed, and Hansel took a quick breath before he opened his mouth to swallow Dean down, as far as he could. Gods, but the little mewling sounds Dean made as he sucked were so arousing that Hansel's own cock jumped, reminding him of his needs.

"Fuck. Fuck. You sure you've never done this before?" Dean's hands held Hansel's head still. "We have to stop or I'll be of no use for a while." Giving him one last lazy pull with his mouth, Hansel let Dean's cock go and stood up. "Bed. Now." Dean gave him a playful push back; his knees hit the edge of the soft mattress, so he caught Dean and took him down with him in a tangle of naked limbs and bumping hips, eliciting a low growl from Dean as his cock rubbed along Hansel's thigh.

"Like this?" he asked innocently. Sliding up the bed, Hansel propped his head up on a pillow.

"Oh, you want to play it that way?" Dean said as he came up between Hansel's legs, pushing them apart; he had a small tube in his hand. A puddle of gooey gel landed on Hansel's stomach; Dean ran one hand through it, coating his fingers. "I was going to be all 'this is your first time' nice and easy, but keep pushing and see what you get."

"Gretel says I always do things the hard way." He offered, the promise of pleasure burning off his shyness. "Why change now?"

"You really are a fairytale character, damn it. I may be the one dreaming." Dean's hand ran down Hansel's aching cock, over his balls, and back to the clenched muscle, circling and massaging it. "Let's find out just how hard you like it."

Dean's finger didn't hurt, not really, when it pressed inside of him very slowly, but his body reacted by tightening up. "Relax," Dean instructed. "Gonna open you up for me. Get you nice and slick." As he talked, he began to move his finger, in and out, around, and Hansel slowly got used to the feeling, releasing some tension as Dean's words made him catch his breath. "You're so ready to come, aren't you? Feel that in your gut, the need to explode? Gonna have to wait until I let you come." Just as he was used to one finger, Dean pushed in another, scissoring them inside of him, spreading him wider; Hansel gasped at the sensation, and his hips moved on their own, his body knowing what he needed. "That's it, baby. Gonna fuck you so hard, fill you up. Ah, shit, you feel good. You ready for another?"

All Hansel could do was nod; the third finger hurt a little more, demanding his muscles respond to the invasion in ways they weren't used to, but then Dean wiggled them and shifted, a spike of pure bliss jolted through Hansel's body. "Damn," he arched up, cock straining, hands fisting the coverlet of the bed.

"Found it." Dean voice was heavy with his own lust; he thrust again and again until Hansel was practically babbling pleas for more. "Tell me what you want. You've got to say it."

"God, Dean. Fuck me." He'd never imagined blurting that out to anyone, but right now, if he didn't have Dean inside of him, he just might have to kill something.

"With pleasure."

Fingers left him and Hansel suddenly felt empty, blood pounding in time to his heart, cock so hard he reached for it to relieve himself, but Dean caught him.

"Not yet. Not until I tell you." He opened a small package and rolled something over his cock; Hansel watched his fingers at work. "Protection. Just in case, dude."

"We have that too, you know." Hansel smirked. Cocking an eyebrow at him, Dean was there, taking Hansel's knees and hooking them over his shoulders, lifting Hansel's hips off the bed. Dean's cock was bigger than the three fingers, and he entered slowly, letting Hansel get used to each inch before pushing further. After what seemed like forever of the delicious torment, Dean was finally all the way, seated deep.

"See what you get for being sassy?" Dean asked with a laugh, and then turned serious. "You okay?"

"Fuck. Fuck, yes." He had no words to describe it, this fullness, the welcome soreness that was somehow erotic and completely mind-blowingly good. "I need … god … move will you?"

"Porno pirate. I was so fucking right about you." Dean pulled out and thrust back in, not too hard yet, but enough to surprise Hansel with his body's response.

"I'm not going to fucking break." Hansel groaned. "Fuck. Me."

"Sassy Hansel gets what he wants." Dean shifted, changing his angle and thrust in again, brushing right over Hansel's prostate. "Want to take bets on how long before you scream?"

Hansel couldn't answer at all; Dean plunged in again and started a rhythm that picked up speed, and all Hansel could do was groan and moan and bite his lip so hard to keep in the scream that was building that he drew blood. He jerked his hips to meet Dean, their bodies crashing together as they grew increasingly faster, lost together in the thrill, more desperate for release.

The whole time, words poured out of Dean's mouth. "God, so good, so tight, so hot, fuck, fuck, damn it, so damn good …" Dean's hand found Hansel's cock, and it took only two strokes before he climaxed, spilling over on Dean's fingers, a spattering mess of white on his stomach. He did scream, Dean's name bursting out of his lips as his brain went blank at the intensity of the sensation. As the aftereffects rocked through his body, Dean bent Hansel's legs forward, bringing his own body down to rest on his hands. Hansel watched Dean let go, let his own orgasm overtake him on the last strokes, saw his eyes close, the strain in the muscles of his neck, and then the release as Dean came inside of him. The chuckle was inappropriate – he didn't have to have had sex to know you'd didn't laugh during it – but he couldn't help it. Dean had cussed as he came, calling Hansel 'fucking sweet candy boy' even as he collapsed their chest together, Dean's weight a heavy warmth.

"You find that funny?" Dean lifted his head to look at Hansel.

"I don't eat candy, but in your case I'll make an exception." Hansel ran a hand down Dean's face, catching beads of sweat that were rolling down; the little cold air machine was having trouble keeping up with the heat they were making. "Candy boy?" he prompted when Dean seemed confused.

"Shit." Dean pulled out and rolled off of him, flopping on his back. The bed was a small double, so there was no room to spread out, leaving them in a tangle of legs and skin sticky with drying sweat. "That was damn fine sex, Candy Boy. Loud, messy, and damn fine."

"I need another shower." Hansel looked at himself. Rolling up onto his side, Dean leaned over and kissed him, slow and … well … sweet.

"Sounds like a plan. Give me a few minutes of recovery time though. Can't go in swimming right after you've eaten."

The phone rang. Ever since Dean had explained what the little black boxes were, Hansel had wondered why anyone wanted to be in constant contact. This just proved his point. Dean got up and crossed to the table where he'd left it, tucking the phone between his shoulder and his ear as he pulled off the protection and tossed it in the garbage on his way into the bathroom.

"Bobby, you got something?" He tossed Hansel a towel from the doorway. "When you start like that I know I'm not going to like it, but hit me with it anyway."

Back to business, they both cleaned up as Dean listened to the man on the other end of the phone. "Wait a minute. Backup. Circe? Who the hell is that?"

"Powerful witch from Greek times. Liked to turn men into pigs. Real bitch. Odysseus 'tamed' her, if I remember the story right." Hansel offered as he pulled on his pants.

"Pigs? Okay." Dean stopped. "Yeah, Bobby. Another hunter we ran into. Knows a lot about witches." He winked at Hansel. "Hansel, and yes, the same as. It's a long story." He made a motion with his hand as he listened, circling his first finger while he rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I know all that. Now about Circe and this spell …"

Hansel tuned out Dean's portion of the conversation, mind jumping ahead, making connections. The fount of all magical, the power of the ages. There were usually some grains of truth in the old stories; if so, was Cassandra trying to capture the power of the long dead Circe? Or something even worse?

"Hey, Bobby's got an address for Cassandra. She's going by the name Helen Telmon, lives nearby in Greensburg. Feel like a little trip out?" Dean dressed quickly, offering Hansel a short sleeve soft grey shirt. "You can keep the leather pants, but the rest will look out of place in town."

"Even the jacket?" He picked it up anyway; no way in hell was he going anywhere near a witch without it. "But I thought you liked it."

"Okay. Bring the coat. In case I want to introduce you to the joy of car sex."