Many thanks to Naisica for the lovely banner
(The characters do not belong to us, they belong to Kripke, etc...
Rating/Warnings: NC 17; Slash. The boys are NOT brothers, but per mods, incest warning is given
Summary: Lord Dean Winchester belongs to the secret arm of the Knights Templer, fighting supernatural horrors and demons that plague the land. Knights like Dean must be paired with an innocent who can neutralize the dark taint that builds up inside them due to their close contact with evil. Dean has selected the boy, Sam, as his innocent, and goes to claim him from the monks who have groomed and sheltered him for that purpose.
Author's Note: We have not tried to make the language sound overly medieval. Think of the Herculese t.v. show, you have the ancient Greece setting but more modern lingo is used. However, we did not go for slapstick or anything.)
It was an hour before the bells would ring to announce it was time for prayers at dawn. The stone monastery was cold and dark, although servants had started to re-light the fires in fire places, dying torches were being replaced, and oil lamps being lit. Brother John walked down the long hallway, tightening the rope around his waist and brown robes. Although he'd known the boy Samuel would be collected soon after he turned eighteen, even he was surprised that the messenger had arrived on the very day of the youth's birth. Lord Winchester must be anxious indeed.
Passing the numerous chamber doors, he stopped and opened Sam's. Raising his torch, he inserted it into the metal brace on the wall, crossed the small room in two steps and got down on his knees. Samuel was so tall, he had to double himself in order not to fall off the thin pallet on the ground. John noticed that the boy's rosary was clenched between his hands... no doubt this one was praying for more time. Many of the innocents were hesitant to leave the lives they'd known here for new ones outside the walls and at the mercy of a person they'd never met.
He grasped the boy's shoulder and shook him. "Wake up Samuel. Come on boy, wake up."
Having been up later than usual the night before, worrying about the day his knight would come to claim him, Sam had difficulty waking now. He'd witnessed knights come to claim others like himself, innocents who'd been raised to help rid these special knights of the evils that plagued them, though Sam was unsure just how the innocents were supposed to accomplish that task. All of his inquiries were answered with a short, "Your knight will show you the way," and nothing more.
Some of the knightsthat came to collect his friends were horrible men, large and ugly, with bad breath and rotten teeth, that smelled like horse dung and groped his friends as though they were cattle. It was a disgusting display to witness and Sam had always tried to not be around for such events, even though it was supposed to be a grand affair, your knight coming to get you, to make you his. What ever that meant.
Samuel could only imagine what this Dean Winchester would be like. Probably he'd be as big around as he was tall, with a balding head and boils he would force him to tend. Sam would always shudder at the thought of this 'Dean' coming to fetch him. Now that the day of his eighteenth birthday was upon him, he knew his days were numbered and Lord Winchester would be allowed to take what what was his. Sam had stayed up praying half the night away that Lord Winchester would not remember him, would tarry and not show up for years to come. Perhaps he'd be delayed by a crusade against evil that would take him years.
At the insistent shaking, Sam's lashes fluttered open and he looked up into Brother John's face and that small light of hope was snuffed quickly out. A coldness blossomed in Sam's belly, butterflies danced in his chest as he swallowed hard, not even fully awake, the fear claiming him. "H - he's here, isn't he?" Sam asked, voice rough and soft with sleep.
"Aye, he'll be here at the half hour mark. You are to pack your belongings and go to the chapel." He squeezed the boy's shoulder once again. "If I do not see you again, Samuel, God go with you in your travels."
Sam's eyes widened, his mouth worked like a fish though no sound came out. He felt like he could cry, like he wanted to run away and hide from this knight who was, it seemed, so anxious to have him. Forcing himself to act as he should, as he was taught to for all these years, Sam gave Brother John a small stiff nod, and rose from his pallet, watching as Brother John left his room.
Looking around his room, it wasn't as though he had much to pack. A few items of clothing, his rosary beads and bible, nothing else belonged to him. Quickly stuffing them into a sack, Sam dressed for the day and headed to chapel for his morning prayers. Reaching the tall stone structure, Sam slipped in as quietly as the tall wooden doors would allow, going to his place before the alter to kneel.
Glancing over at his friend, Sam whispered, his head bowed as if in prayer, "I leave today."
Christiana slipped her hand down from where they had been folded in prayer and reached over, her fingertips dancing across his side, before she pulled it away, folding them once more before her.
Sam sighed, eyes closed. In the chapel, under watchful eyes, this was the only way they could ever tell one another of their fears and wish one another well... a simple tiny touch that was so forbidden it could have gotten her in more trouble than it was worth.
Sam started his morning prayers, adding one to them for Lord Winchester to be kind and gentle, for him to be, well, one was not suppose to be shallow, but, if he was not an ogre, Sam would be relieved.
* * *
[8 years ago]
Dean Winchester had reached his majority six months ago. Since then, in between quests to vanquish demons and dragons that scarred the land, made the people's blood run, and burned villages, he had been on his own personal search. The dark taint that built up and choked those like himself, those who hunted and eradicated the dark creatures that roamed the world, had started to make itself known to him. He could feel it inside him, knew it by the way his temper rose too quickly, and by the way he had to sometimes fight the urge to kill. It wasn't so strong yet, but it would get strong over the years until he would have need to collect and use his innocent to temper the darkness within himself.
He had been to numerous orphanages, the homes of people who would give up their children, and he'd picked over battlefields where children cried over their dead fathers' bodies. Thus far, he hadn't found the right one.
Dean and six of his handpicked men arrived at the modest cottage and dismounted. The townspeople who'd heard the thundering of the horses stood outside, watching them, but no one came out of the cottage.
"Stay out here. Make sure the tavern is ready to serve us," Dean snapped at his second in command and friend. "I want no delays."
Charles nodded. "Perhaps you will find the right one here."
His jaw clenched, Dean said nothing but walked to the door and gave a heavy knock.
A few moments later, he was inside, dwarfing the old woman who had taken in four orphaned children. "I don't want them to see me," he said, following her to the doorway of another room. Through a crack in the door, he spotted the children. His gaze slipped over each one. Two girls, two boys. Somehow he kept going back to the thin boy with a mop of brown hair covering his eyes. "How old are they?" he asked. The younger they were, the longer he'd have to wait until they reached their majority.
The woman pointed. "Mary is fourteen, Michael is eight, Rose is twelve and Samuel is ten."
"Samuel." Dean's hand went to the hilt of his sword, his hand clenching around it. "I wish to see his eyes."
Nodding, she walked inside and pulled the child close to her then brushed his hair back off his eyes.
A boy. He'd never thought a boy. Turning on his heels, Dean walked out of the cottage. "Take the boy, Samuel, to the monastery. He is mine." Without another word, he walked to the tavern down the street. This time it was to celebrate and not to drown out sorrow at another failure.
* * *
[7 years ago]
Sam walked along side Brother Robert as he tended to the animals. It was the chore job assigned to Sam now that he lived here at the monastery with the monks and no longer at the orphanage with Mistress Sophia. He knew he had been chosen by one of the mysterious knights that were suppose to slay dragons and fight evil things, but he wasn't exactly sure just what that meant. Chosen.
Did this Knight want a child? Was his woman barren and were they going to adopt him? Sam didn't think that was quite it because if it were, then why had they not just taken him home? Why send him here to live with the monks and other children? All this and more continued to swirl in Sam's head as he helped the monk feed the animals. Whenever he asked the questions, he was always told that God would tell him when the time was right. That hadn't made any sense to Sam either, he had never heard God talk to... well, anybody! Frowning at the thoughts in his head, Sam wasn't watching where he was stepping and his foot slid off the narrow plank between the animal stalls, sending him falling, crashing over the side and into the nearby pig stall.
He'd managed to land on his knees and not his back, but it still didn't make the fall any less jarring and he washurt, his knees burning like liquid fire had been poured onto them.
Sitting back on his butt, Sam examined his knees through his tears to find them bloody and scraped open, small patches of jagged skin hanging off. Wrapping his arms around his legs as he drew them up, knees bent, feet flat against the dirty ground, Sam cried, wishing that Mistress Sophia was there to hug him, tend his wounds and make him feel better like she always had. The little old woman had only been an over-seer of orphans, but she had been kind and loving to Sam while he had been in her care.
"Samuel!" Brother Robert crossed the short distance between them, grasped the boy's white robe at the shoulder and pulled him up. "Come, let us take care of that," he said not unkindly, but very aware that the boys master was visiting, watching from within the monastery. He started to walk the boy toward the building since he was not so hurt that he could not walk.
Sam wiped as his eyes with the back of his hands as he was pulled to his feet, sniffling, he walked with the monk toward the building, worrying his bottom lip, head hanging. "I didn't mean to fall," he mumbled out, unsure if he was in trouble or not. Mistress Sophia always tended to his wounds wherever he fell. She had told him many times that his legs were too long for him and he was as graceful as a bull at market. She'd smiled at him and told him that one day he'd grow into his legs and not fall so often, but sometimes Sam wondered if that would ever happen.
Glancing over at Brother Robert as they walked Sam grew more nervous, but fought to remain quiet.
They walked through an archway and reached the courtyard. Robert pointed at a bench. "Sit there." Already, another monk was at his side with supplies. Kneeling, Robert washed the wounds, then poured some wine over them.
Sam bit into his bottom lip as the wine was poured over his open wounds, his eyes squeezed tightly closed, hands clenched into tight fists. Slowly he opened his eyes, blinking as he looked down at his knees, fresh tears shining in his eyes. "Burns," he whined.
"It will pass. Be brave." Putting a poultice over it, Rober wrapped some strips of cloth around the boy's knees. Taking a spare strip of cloth, he dried Sam's tears. "Why don't you go to the kitchens and tell them you are there for a biscuit and tea. It will make you feel better."
Sam smiled at the monk and nodded, sniffling as he wiped again at his eyes. Starting to slide forward off the bench, Sam opened his arms, holding them out to hug the monk who had been so kind to him in tending his wounds, just as he always had to Mistress Sophia at the orphanage.
Robert rose suddenly, putting his hand out to prevent the child from leaping into his arms. "Remember Samuel, no unnecessary touching. Go get your tea." Patting him very lightly on the head, he stepped away.
Dean wanted to push the old monk away. He wanted to be there for his innocent. To take him into his own arms to comfort him. This from a man who did not even like children. He took a step toward the door leading to the courtyard.
Dean closed his eyes. "I know. But I do not like to see him like that." He would no longer want to see a steed of his in pain, than his innocent.
"Aye. He will be fine. If my memory serves, you suffered far greater injuries than that in your youth and your father never..."
Giving a curt nod, Dean went to the window one last time until Sam disappeared from view. It was true, he'd had a hard father who'd trained him to hunt the things in the dark and not to cry or show his feelings, but he'd had his mother's comfort. This boy had no one, not until he turned 18.
Another man ran into the room. "There are reports of demons at Greenwich."
All else forgotten, Dean walked out of the room, his men following him outside the monastery and mounting. They had a long ride ahead of them.
* * *
[ 4 years ago]
Sam stood in the middle of the vineyard beside Christiana as she finished filling the basket on the ground before them with grapes for him to carry back to the monastery.
"You can fill it more than that," Sam told her, frowning at the half full basket.
Christiana glanced up at him, her soft pink lips curving into a smile, "I wouldn't want you to break anything."
Sam scoffed, "I'm stronger than that, did you not see me plowing yesterday?"
Christina giggled, "Yes and you looked ready to swoon when you had completed the task!"
Sam's eyes widened, "I did not!"
Christiana, laid a hand on Sam's shoulder as she laughed only to have Brother Andrew rush over to them and tug her hand away from Sam.
"Alright, that is enough from the both of you! Samuel, back to work! Christiana, you come with me!" Andrew told her, gripping the sleeve of her robe, pulling her away toward the prayer rooms where they were sent to be punished by being forced into confession and prayer for the entire day, all day and all eve spent on their knees praying, no food or water as they begged forgiveness for the sin of touching.
Sam frowned at the monk, "She did nothing wrong!"
"Samuel! Do you wish to be sent to a prayer room too!?" Andrew spat.
Sam hung his head, shaking it slowly, "No, Brother Andrew." he answered softly.
"Back to work, all of you!" Andrew ordered firmly, as the other chosen ones had stopped to listen to what was going on.
* * *
[1 Year Ago]
"I don't care. I want to see him, now," Dean ground out, peeling his doublets off and staring down the ancient monk. "I am... on edge, I need to see, I won't explain it again."
The monk bowed, and lead the way out of the library and through labrynth-like hallways. He pushed a door open into an empty room. "He will be there soon." Bowing, he left the warrior alone.
Dean walked to the wall. It had some decorative designs, and some of the carvings went all the way through the solid stone wall. Hands flat on the cool surface, he looked through a narrow gap, seeing his innocent get ushered inside to the circular room that had a pool in the center filled with warm water. At first, all he could see was the lad's back as he was informed he was to take a bath. Turn around.
Sam stood in the center of the room, watching as the monk left, pulling the heavy door closed behind him. Tearing his gaze away from the door, Sam looked over at the pool that had been filled for him.
Wasn't this suppose to be for the chosen when their knights came for them?
Sam usually washed in his room in the small tub that they had given him, one that he barely fit in anymore, this pool, was... well, it was huge compared to what he was use to. Sam licked his lips nervously as he moved forward to peer into the water from the edge of the pool. Looking around as he worried his bottom lip, figuring he had best do as he was told, even though he felt very uncomfortable doing so here.
He removed his modest shoes, before pulling back up to his full height and untying the rope belt around his waist, so much like the monks wore except his robes, like that of all of the chosen, was all white. Pulling the robe up and over his head, Sam sighed, wrapping his arms around his bare chest as he looked around , his bottom lip caught between straight white teeth.
Dean's gaze was trained on the slender boy, his breath hitching as his clothing came off to reveal a muscular form worthy of any warrior. His face was like that of angels in tapestries, and his teeth were remarkably straight. As his eyes slid lower again, lingering on the boy's well defined chest, and the line dividing his chest funneled went lower, Dean's stomach clenched. Then the boy turned his back to him as he looked at the water.
Three times, the innocent's hand went to the drawstring of the white brais that still covered him from his waist to his mid thighs, but he hesitated. Each time, Dean caught his breath, anxious to see what was under, but he was denied. "Sonova..." he cursed, wishing he could snap out an order, but knowing it would be best if he kept his tongue in his head. Do it.
As the boy finally started to pull at the strings, Dean's hand curled against the stone, his breaths growing deeper. He licked his lips as the white material was slowly pushed down and he could slide his gaze down form the line of Sam's back to his firm, milky white, ass. When he bent to pick something up, Dean banged his forehead against the rough stone, hardly feeling any pain as he concentrated on the way the boy's leg parted and the shadow he could just make out between his legs. For Gods sakes, turn.
Frowning down at the yellow ribbon that lay on the cold stone floor, Sam picked it up as if it were the most fragile thing on the planet, holding it carefully between thumb and index finger as he looked at it. There was one girl among them who had always worn a yellow ribbon holding her flaming red hair back, "Stephanie," he mumbled softly, sadly, remembering the arse of a knight who had come to claim her just a few days ago. Sam remembered the way the knight had touched her in front of every one and the way she had looked as he had kissed her, so ill, as though she were going to vomit up her mid day meal.
Jaw clenched, Sam rose to his full height and turned, walking over to a small table sitting next to the wall and carefully placing her ribbon down upon the rough wooden surface. "May he die swiftly for you, Steph." Sam mumbled softly, before turning and walking back toward the pool, slowly climbing in.
Holy... When Samuel approached, Dean had a full frontal view of his innocent and he was not disappointed. Barely processing the innocent's wish for the death of another, he felt his body stir... make demands. These last years had been difficult. He'd met and bested many evil things, and it weighed down on him. Now, the sight of the one who could make his internal demons go away, put him at ease, drove him to near madness. He had to fight the urge to claim Sam now, before his majority. One touch of those lips to his, and he knew... knew beyond a doubt that he would be saved.
As Sam walked down the steps, one at a time, Dean's cock surged, straining against his breeches until it was painful. A sound welled up in the back of his throat. Licking his lips, he moved his hand over his cock, squeezing himself, trying to find an outlet for this terrible need building low in his belly.
Sam couldn't believe the size of this pool, it was nearly large enough to swim in, and the water was nicely warm instead of tepid as the water in his room's tub normally was by the time water from the kitchen could be carried there. Smiling as he sank down into the water, Sam wasn't quite sure what he had done to deserve this, but he was going to enjoy it while it was his. He laid back in the water, letting his head dip down, wetting his hair. The pool was so deep with water that he nearly floated on the surface. Hr was enjoying himself so, as he splashed and moved around, not even thinking about the soap that was sitting on the side of the pool, simply enjoying the water instead of bathing.
Watching as Sam arched his back in the water floated upwards, a groan broke from Dean. Thoughts of joining him in the water, straddling that tight, lithe body, fucking against him as he joined their mouths in a heated kiss, tortured him. Losing all sense of shame, he undid his breeches and pushed his hand under, closing his fist around his painfully hard cock and immediately stroking. Lift up again... again he practically chanted, eyes burning with need. Please... just once more.
Sam laid back in the water with a sigh, closing his eyes, a smile lighting his features, making his dimples show. If the monks wanted him to bathe here again, he would have no problem with it. A chuckle worked out of him before he arched backward, nearly doing a handstand on the pools bottom before coming back up in another area of the pool, shaking water from his hair as he lifted his hands to his face, pushing his long wet bangs back.
The soap laying unused to the side finally caught Sam's eye and he figured he had better at least wash up a little before they came to get him. Walking through the water that covered him to his middle, Sam reached up and grabbed the cake of soap.
He started washing his arms, then his chest and neck, before he accidentally dropped it. Hands running across soapy skin, Sam rolled his eyes at himself and leaned over to retrieve the soap, effectively making him disappear under the water. Raising back up, soap in hand, Sam walked to the waters edge and deposited the soap, before placing his hands, palms flat on the side of the pool and lifting himself up out of the water to sit on the side, muscles in his arms bulging from the effort.
Sitting on the pool side, Sam washed his feet and legs before he slid off back into the water once more, soap once again forgotten as he arched back and floated on the waters now soapy surface, a content smile pulling at his lips, his eyes closed.
Dean was stroking himself hard, breaths labored and echoing around the small room as his need became more intense and he started to thrust into his hand. He wanted that mouth around him. Those hands, with those long elegant fingers... soapy, sliding over him. He wanted to be deep inside his innocent, fucking him hard, letting him know who his lord and master was, making him need as much as the youth made him need, making him cry out his name. "Angh... fuck... Sam..." he rasped, biting his lip as his balls drew up. "Yes... yes...."
The sight of Sam standing and soaping between his legs did it. Dean banged his forehead against the wall and groaned out loud, spunk coating his hand as he came in a gush of heat, imagining pumping his cock into Sam's tight ass. Oh God... there was relief... some relief... but he knew he would be rock hard every time he thought about Sam bathing, that one year would not pass soon enough. Fuck...
* * *
As Brother John made sure Sam was prepared to go, he asked over and over what it was he was suppose to always remember.
Sam sighed and rolled his eyes, a groan escaping. "I know, Brother John, I know. I have to give Lord Winchester whatever he wants, I am to obey him as I would God, I know," Sam sighed as he made a face, "though I doubt God is fat and smelly OR that he has warts and puss filled boils AND I doubt very much that God would paw at me with his big fat sweaty hands or gag me with his horrid breath and rotten teeth!" Sam spat, his jaw clenched, held in a stubborn angle as he frowned darkly, nearly pouting.
Standing in the larger room outside the small ready room, Dean's back got stiffer and stiffer as he heard his innocent speak about him like that. What had given him the idea that he was any of those things? A glance at his companions showed they were amused, though they made no comment.
A low chuckle escaped Dean, he nodded.
Looking at the darkly clad hunter warrior, Charles shook his head. Lord Winchester was none of those things. Samuel would be pleased, unless he angered Dean. Then it might not go well.
Turning to the older of his companions, Peter, who was also twice his girth, Dean nodded at him. "Go in and get him. Let him think you are me."
This time Charles chuckled.
Giving a long suffering look, Peter walked into the antechamber and looked Samuel over from head to foot. "He will do. Come with me, Samuel," he said, smiling widely and showing the gaps in his teeth.
Sam looked up as the knight walked into the room, his heart seemed to stop in his chest as he saw him, his blood running cold. Sam stood with his mouth hanging open, eyes wide, before he forced himself to snap his mouth closed and lower his eyes. It was just as he feared, fat, old, missing teeth, and soon, he would be touching him, something Sam didn't even want to think about, and definitely did not want to learn about from this man who now apparently was his lord and master.
Swallowing hard, Sam looked over at Brother John, pleading silently with his eyes for him not to allow this to happen, a small whimper sounding in Sam's throat before he hung his headr.
"Come." This time Peter reached out and grasped Sam's forearm.
Sam's head snapped up to look at the knight as he grabbed his arm, a soft gasp escaping him, eyes wide, before he forced himself to relax, to accept his fate.
"I am taking you home." Nodding at the bewildered monk, he pulled Sam out of the room, where they were flanked by the other two men.
At the first sight of his innocent, Dean felt a thrill go through his entire body, clear to his toes. Ordinarily, he would have taken Sam from Peter by now, but he quietly walked along, stealing only side long glances at the one he had come to claim.
Sam walked obediently with the warriors, leaving behind everything he knew to start a life with a man, a warrior, a knight that he did not know and that he did not want to know. Squaring his shoulders as he walked past the other chosen, Sam tried to not show them that he was afraid, he didn't want them to worry when it was their time. As they passed by the last of the three he had been closest to, Christiana, Sam acknowledged her with a flutter of his eyelashes, before he obediently looked away as he had been taught.
This might be a new life that he was being led to, but Sam now understood those who had said that it felt like they were being led to their deaths. He never liked to wish harm on others, not for his own sake especially, but some part of Sam hoped that mayhap his master would ride out one night and never return.
Dean did not miss the exchange of looks, but was secure in the thought that Sam had been kept innocent. They walked to the large doors, which were drawn open, and then they were outside. Their horses were lined up, and behind them, another seven knights. Everyone's eyes were on Samuel.
"You, take Sam on your steed," Peter said, moving to mount his own horse, as did Charles.
Hiding both a smile and his excitement, Dean motioned to his horse. "Do you need me to lift you up?" he asked, voice low, but full of authority.
Sam glanced over at his master when the knight before him spoke and quickly Sam shook his head. "No - no, sir," Sam told him, as he waited for the knight to mount, then moved forward to climb up on the animal's back in front of him. Jaw set, Sam moved to do as he was suppose to, though his gaze quickly ran over the knight he was to sit in front of.
Why couldn't this one be his master? He had a handsome face and his body looked strong, solid, not over weight and likely covered in warts. This knight had brilliant green eyes that Sam had to tear his gaze away from as he settled in front of him. Sam was careful not to touch him in any way for fear his master would become angered with him. He didn't even want to think what his punishment from such a creature would be. The very idea of it had Sam swallowing hard and scooting farther forward away from the knight behind him.
Dean waited for Sam to get settled, then closed one arm tightly around him, drawing him up against his body. Glancing at the company of men, he nodded and dug his knees into the horse's sides. They headed out, his steed front and center, with Charles and Peter flanking them, and the rest riding hard behind them. It was cold, the sun was only now rising and fog lingered on the road making it difficult to see ahead. Alert and on the look out for brigands, Dean suddenly felt his innocent start to squirm.
"Stop it you fool, you might fall," he snapped, holding him tighter and controlling the steed with one hand.
Sam looked over his shoulder at the knight and shook his head as he raised a hand and tried to pry the man's hand away from him. "Please," Sam begged him, "if my master sees you holding me, I - I'm not suppose to be touched, you can't..." Sam bit his lip and wiggled more, "Please let me go..."
Smirking, Dean held him just a little tighter. "You are also not supposed to fall and break your neck. Stop this." Pleased with Sam's intent to obey the wishes of his lord and master, it took a few moments before Dean realized Sam's backside was rubbing against his cock and making him hot with arousal. He struggled to exert control over his body. "I said enough." This time his tone brooked no rebellion.
Sam stilled immediately, his heart thundering in his chest. He was shaking with fear that he was going to get into trouble, he had heard stories, horror stories of the things that these knights did, the things they faced, and the way the were looked upon. Why would they treat him, a nobody, any better? Sam clenched his hands into fists and squeezed his eyes closed, head hanging as he worried his bottom lip. There was nothing more he could do, he had tried to make this warrior see that this was forbidden, that he was not to be touched. If his master were going to punish him, Sam would just have to take it.
His innocent might be obedient, but it was too late for Dean to have a comfortable ride. He was already too aware of the man sitting in front of him on the horse, his back pressing against Dean's chest, his ass teasing his cock each time he rocked due to the motions of the horse. Leaning in, chin practically on Sam's shoulder, Dean took in the boy's fresh clean scent with every breath. His gaze sometimes lingered on his face, or his lip... he had a maddening tendency to chew on it, or worse yet, let his tongue dart out to lick it. Fuck... Dean could not have been more affected if the boy had been a trained courtesan.
Sam's gaze kept darting over to his master to see if he was watching this knight who was touching what he wasn't suppose to. Would his master say that he had caused it, that he had invited this warrior's touch? Sam took a deep breath, tongue darting out to run over his bottom lip once again as he fidgeted on the horse's back trying to squirm away without drawing the knight's attention to his movements. Please stop touching me, please! God make him stop! I know this is not right, I know that my master is to be the only one, it's not my fault Lord, I swear! Tis not my fault!
Dean's hand slipped down lower on Sam's belly, the last two fingers of his hand pressing over his groin. Though they were riding fast and hard, he nuzzled Sam's neck, lips and nose brushing occasionally against soft warm skin, desire coursing through him. It would be hours before he could be alone with his innocent, and this would have to do. The others would understand. Hell, many of his kind could not wait at all? It surprised no one when they took their innocents even within the walls of the monastery.
Sam's breaths came in gasps when he felt the knight touch him low on his belly, his fingertips brushing across his groin, an area that even Sam himself was never allowed to touch any more than he had to when relieving himself or washing. The muscles of Sam's stomach clenched as he sat slightly straighter, back stiff, trying to make himself taller so that those fingers would not be where they had no right. The face turned against his neck had Sam squeezing his eyes closed as his heart thundered in his chest as hard and loud as the horses hooves against the earth. He swallowed hard as he sat there with the handsome knight's face buried against his neck, his breaths warm against Sam's skin.
He felt Sam stiffen, could feel his heart beating and somehow knew that the boy hardly dared to breathe. So afraid, so innocent, and all his. The knowledge sent lust coursing through the knight's veins. His fingers slipped just a little lower, pulsing with the beat of the horse's galloping steps. When Peter turned to look at them, Dean deliberately went so far as to kiss Sam's throat, leaning forward to suck on his adam's apple, before pulling back again, but only because they were riding too hard for him not to have a clear view of the road.
Sam's lips parted as his breaths panted out, fearful breaths as the knight continued to touch him, his hand somehow only managing to sink owner on his stomach, his fingertips firmly against his groin. Sam's body jerked, startled, his eyes wide. No, no, no... Again, he glanced over at his master, afraid, so afraid that the knight behind him was going to get him into trouble. Sam sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, his hands clenching onto the horses mane, fistfuls of the animals hair as he tried to lean forward, move away.
He glanced at his master once more, only to see him look back, making Sam's eyes widen. Then, even more so, if it were possible as the warrior behind him dared to kiss his throat. Sam's lips parted as he gasped out a breath before gritting his teeth. "Please, if you have a heart, do not touch that which does not belong to you," Sam told the knight. "My master is going to be angered with us both, now please for the love of God," Sam begged him, hoping the man could hear as he shouted his words to be heard above the pounding of horses hooves.
"You think I'm afraid of anyone?" Dean chuckled, still holding the boy despite his attempts to lean away from him. He found Sam's voice melodic, and could not wait to make him shout other things... intimate things. He wondered how thick his voice would get, how his eyes might darken, and how he would look flushed and laying against his white sheets in bed. Thinking about him on all fours, he groaned softly. He had to turn his mind to other things, or else he might change his mind and consummate their relationship on the side of the road.
Shouts from behind had him turning to see the dust from other riders intent on catching up to them. "Milo," he shouted, and when the young knight brought his horse up, Dean ordered Sam to release the horse's main. Gripping his waist, he pushed him over toward the other rider who reached out as if Sam were a parcel, pulling him across his own steed. "Steven, go with them," Dean shouted, slowing and turning his horse around, even as the two riders took Sam ahead.