Fields of Gold
Dedication: To my Angels. I love you with every beat of my heart.
Title: Fields of Gold
Authors: DDD, Z, L, and A
Pairings: Dean/Sam, Dean/Cas/Adam, Dean/Sky
Rating: NC17
Warnings: Based on a RL love story. slash, threesome, rimming, hummers, romance, angst.
Disclaimer: We don't own Dean, Sam, Cas or Adam.
Summary: Dean Winchester is the manager of the Castlewood Equine Estate. He has many men willing to warm his bed but he longs for the one who will warm his heart. Sam Stivaletti works at his family's Italian restaurant and dreams of the man who will will give him the love he has always craved. Dean and Sam have already discovered a great mutual passion between them. Could it become true love?
A/N: Zach and I began work on this story before his death. After 18 months, I can finally work on it again. A few friends are helping me finish and I want to say I love you all. Saddle up my friends, it is going to be a wild ride! Love DDD
Fields of Gold
Part One
The day was full of unpleasant surprises. Ernesto finding moldy hay in the latest delivery, requiring all 141 remaining bales to be unstacked and inspected before being piled back up again, made evening feeding late. I had to spend an extra 45 minutes scooping grain and measuring out vitamin and joint supplements before hopping on Xia bareback and loping out the gate for home.
As we trotted up the little hill to my barn I could see that the kitchen lights were on. That meant Sam was in my kitchen which meant home made Italian food and hot sex. My cock gave a happy twitch as I fed and blanketed Xia. I had a hard on when I walked in the house so I greeted Sam with a full body hug from behind letting him feel it.
“Dean,” he growled when I bit the side of his neck. He tipped his head back to my shoulder and kissed me, rubbing his firm ass into my crotch in bump and grind fashion. “You’re late. Tough day?”
“Moldy hay.”
He wrinkled his nose in disgust, “Yuck.”
I giggled at him. “Exactly.”
We’d met eight years ago when I was still riding professionally, before the accident. I'd made reservations at one of his parents’ restaurants Stiva's and showed up to find that I wasn't on the list. Sam had come out from the kitchen to see what the problem was. One thing led to another, and we ended up dining nude in the middle of his king sized bed between rounds two and three of the hot sex I mentioned earlier.
Samuel Stivaletti is gorgeous, hazel eyes, tan skin and long sable hair, which I realized early on was his emotional barometer. Tonight his hair was freshly washed and hanging free past his collar so I knew we would make love for hours before and after dinner. He's 28 to my 30, taut, toned and tall. His back is amazing, wide at the shoulders, tapering down to narrow hips and a tight ass.
Sam had a security code for my place, and usually surprised me three or four nights a week, joining in whatever/whomever I had going that night. He was a favorite with my friends, not only for his amazing tongue, but also for the Italian pastries he frequently brought with him from Stiva's. I have no idea what he did on the evenings he wasn’t with me, but early in our relationship he'd sometimes stay away for several days. When he'd return, I'd notice what appeared to be ligature marks on his wrists and bruises on his body. He never tried to take me there, so I never asked him about it and quit looking for them.
He turned to me and kissed me deeply, gazed lustfully into my eyes, then took me by the hand and pulled me into the library. As we entered the room, he stepped behind me and began to pull my shirt over my head while he steered me to the piano, shedding clothes along the way. Pushing me forward till my chest rested on the lid, he licked, nibbled and kissed his way from the back of my neck, along the center of my spine, down the valley of my ass, and ended up kneeling below me with my balls in his mouth.
Now, that’s a welcome home.
While Sam’s tongue worked its magic on me I hung there with quivering knees, sighing and moaning, squirming back into his face when he did something mind blowing. By the time he stood up and pressed the dripping head of his rock hard cock to me, I was dizzy with arousal, and sank back onto him with a deep groan of pleasure. He lay over me, kissed my neck and ran his hands down my thighs.
In this mood, Sam is a tough act to follow, and it’s how I like him best. He is gentle, perceptive, patient, and strong, able to go for as long as I want him to. The perfect top. Other hair styles bring with them other moods. Hair gelled and wild, he can be a little rough, more concerned with his own needs than mine, and requiring my active participation. Hair tied back, he is quiet and remote, and sex with him is almost spiritual; no words, few sounds, just sensation after amazing sensation. In any mood, he is someone I enjoy being with, and I love him. It is only his unknown darker side that prevents me from giving myself to him completely. That, and the knowledge that he doesn’t feel those emotions for me, no matter how much he cares for me.
Sam fucked me slowly, long strokes alternating with short ones during which he tilted his hips to graze my prostate, bringing me to my toes as I fogged the glossy piano lid with my moans. Eventually he built up a rhythm, stroking me in time with his thrusts. We came together, him in me, and me in the kitchen towel he’d thoughtfully brought along. We lingered for a while, kissing and hugging, but hunger drove us back to the kitchen, and soon we were eating spaghetti with meatballs and garlic bread, naked at the counter, washing it down with a bottle of wine.
We tidied the kitchen and headed up the wide staircase to the master bedroom. It overlooked my acreage, the stream that meanders through the estates, and a few miles distant, the steeple atop the big barn at Castlewood. Tonight it was clear and the sky was filled with stars. Our shower was leisurely, more foreplay than necessity. I love playing in the shower, and Sam was in the mood to indulge me. We slicked each other up with the shower gel, and explored each other, lingering when a certain spot drew a particularly enthusiastic moan.
While preferring to top, Sam occasionally likes to be fucked; it happens only in the hair loose and flowing mood. When we reached the bed, he crawled forward, dropping onto his stomach in the middle of the big mattress, arms and legs spread, cock pointing toward his toes. This was my cue, so I knelt between his feet and began to run my hands lightly over his skin, licking the spot behind his knees that I found the first time he asked me do this. He moaned softly as I worked my way up, ruffling the hair on his thighs, pressing my thumbs lightly between his legs while I squeezed his ass, running my tongue here and there, teasing him.
I’m pretty versatile, enjoying either side of a good fuck, but when I top, I feel like a different person entirely. It is much more an act of control combined with desire than being taken. When I’m being fucked by a familiar partner, I lose myself in it, trusting them to take care of me. But when I top, I must do the taking care, paying attention to the feel, the mood, of my partner, and his comfort and pleasure become my universe.
My cock was leaking precum to spare, so I wet two fingers and worked one slowly into him, feeling the warmth of his body envelop me. He’s always very tight, but soon loosened enough to take my other finger easily. I know that he allows only me this privilege, and I honor that trust, concentrating fully on him, wanting him to enjoy every move I make. I enjoy fingering him almost as much as I enjoy fucking him. My sensitive fingertips probed him gently, inside and out, and the smooth heat of him was very arousing. When Sam was clutching the sheet in his fists and moving restlessly, I removed my fingers and slid forward. He lifted his hips slightly for my entry, and I eased into him, awed as always at this joining of one man to another in the most intimate way possible.
He was very relaxed and accepted me with only slight resistance, grunting softly as I sunk deeper into him. When I could go no further I leaned over him, bracing myself on my arms, and let him adjust to my friendly invasion. After a minute he shifted his body under me, reached back for my hands, laced our fingers and pulled them out to our sides so that I slowly slid down onto him, my chest to his back, rising slightly as he breathed. I began to thrust slowly with just my hips, rocking in and out of him. It’s almost hypnotic, and we can do this for quite a long time, neither of us building to climax, just enjoying the quiet of the night and the feel of each other.
Laying there on him, buried in his body, I couldn’t think of any place I’d rather be. The house was quiet, the room dark; it seemed as though we were the only two people on the planet. I nuzzled my face into his neck, breathed in the smell of him, kissed that soft spot just below his ear, nibbled on the muscles of his shoulder, loved him. His eyes were closed, and his mouth was curved in a soft smile. He made little mmm sounds now and then, tightening his fingers in mine, arching his back to bring me deeper into him. Heaven should be this good.
After a while I pushed one of his knees up the bed, and rolled him onto his side, straddling his lower leg. This is his favorite position because the penetration is very deep and I can touch both sides of his body. I stroked his cock, and circled my other hand low on his back, all the while fucking him deeply. My perineum rode his thigh with perfect pressure. We didn’t speed up as the end drew near, it took me months to develop the control to be able to do this for him, just kept a steady pace, so that our orgasms built very slowly. When we finally came, it was within a stroke or two of each other. I always pull out of him, and wrap both our cocks in one fist, his hand closing over mine, and we cum on his belly. We’ve done this hundreds of times; it is special for both of us, and I wouldn’t change a thing.
We settled down to sleep, Sam on his back with me draped over him. When I stirred a couple hours later, Sam ran his hand reassuringly down my arm. I was surprised that he was awake, so I watched him as I drifted off. He lay still, staring at the ceiling, his face sad, and I felt a flutter of unease in my stomach, though I couldn't have said why.
*^*
“Dean, that new mare’s got thrush.”
“What?” I scowled at James. “That wasn’t in the vet check.”
“Well, she’s got it. Right rear.” As he headed out the door, I walked down a few stalls, and went in with the new horse. She had her right rear hoof cocked, and picked it up quickly when I ran my hand down her leg. As I pressed a thumb into her frog, the black ooze combined with the tell-tale odor made the diagnosis simple.
“Damn,” I muttered as I headed for Faith's office, but stopped as a thought occurred to me. Taylor (hunky, but, unfortunately, straight as the proverbial arrow), our farrier, was coming tomorrow. He could trim her and see how bad it was. I went back, and picked the mare’s foot as deeply as I could, made sure her shavings were dry, then blanketed her for the night.
I’m Dean Winchester, general manager of a stable for a variety of horsey sports hunter/jumper, dressage, eventing, the odd pleasure horse, with a couple reining cowhorse types thrown in to keep it interesting. At any given time we have 25-35 horses, each with its owner, rider, groom, etc. I train many of the horses, and keep track of the big picture.
During the off season it’s pretty mellow, but once the shows start up, it can be a madhouse. Horses shipping out and arriving, riders throwing hissy fits, grooms braiding manes and tails for the jumping arena when the horse is headed for the dressage ring. The fringe benefits are great. If you want to see some hot male bodies, go to a horse show. Damn near the entire body is used in riding a horse, and a rider at the level we consort with has had a lifetime of training, hours a day in the saddle, more hours at the gym, and it shows in lean, hard, beautifully muscled bodies. There aren’t a lot of men that into horses, but the ones who are, hot damn.
Over the years, we’ve earned a reputation as a top notch, alternative lifestyle friendly barn. James and Ernesto met here seven years ago when I took over, bringing my groom, James, with me. They’d been partners since. The minute we set foot on the place, Ernesto stalked James up one barn aisle and down the other, finally cornering him in the hay shed, and staking his claim, so to speak, over a bale of alfalfa. James runs the fleet of stable boys required to keep a place the size of Castlewood going every day. He also monitors our inventory of alfalfa, grass hay, grain, supplements, stall shavings, etc, and tells Bella when we're getting low. Ernesto is the head groundskeeper, responsible for maintaining the buildings, fences, equipment, etc, that keeps Castlewood functioning. They live in the roomy apartment directly above my head, and are responsible for the daily welfare of the ridiculously expensive, overly pampered equine athletes lounging, eating, and voiding in the rows of stalls in our barns.
Bella, our CPA, keeps the books, invoicing and pays the bills. Tall and willowy, she is devoted to her other half, Faith. Faith is our vet. She worked for a large animal clinic outside Chicago after she graduated, which is where she met Bella. Faith got tired of treating torn cow udders and impacted pig rectums, so they looked for someplace as different from Chicago as it could be and wound up here, in East Texas. I’d been at Castlewood for about a year at that point, and had been toying with the idea of hiring our own vet. With so many horses, one of them was always needing shots, getting kicked, or developing colic. I was tired of begging the local vets to fit us into their schedule When I saw Faith’s ad in Equine News, I called her. She wanted more than we could afford, but the offer of living rent-free in the cute little stone cottage by the creek at the back of the property clinched the deal, and they moved in the following week.
They also handle all the transport stuff, health certificates, truck and trailer booking, etc.. required to get a horse from point A to point B, all on time, and in good health. Faith looks like a cheerleader all tits, teeth and blond hair but she takes care of Bella and our horses with a fierce competence that made her invaluable and has me just slightly afraid of her.
JD Morgan, a very successful architect with a penchant for Gran Prix riders, owns Castlewood, but rarely makes an appearance. He prefers to travel with his rider du jour, at least until they tire of each other, at which time he’ll hang out at the stable for a week or two, issuing half-assed orders no one follows, until another comely face sweeps him off to Devon or Wellington or Aachen. He keeps a home out at the west edge of the property, a large modern ranch, complete with pool, hot tub, tennis court, etc. It’s a lovely place, but empty for the most part as he jets across the country ferrying his current boyfriend to the next stop on the circuit.
I’d had an outstanding junior career, winning rider of the year when I was 19, and at 22, was headed for an equally illustrious domination of the pro circuit until an over-trained, under-talented 11 year old gelding refused a jump, a wide oxer, pile-driving my left shoulder into the upright. One year and three operations later, it worked okay, but couldn’t handle the stress of competition, riding 8 hours a day, 7 days a week. So, at 23, I was unemployed.
I was JD's flavor of the month at the time of the accident. He came home with me, and stayed close by until I was safely through the first surgery. Then eased his way out the door to romance my successor, a twit named Monty. But he was good to me when we were together, and I appreciated his friendship, and the freedom he gave me in running Castlewood. I'd met Sam only a few months before the accident. He and my cousin Adam kept me alive through the depression, worked out with me through the physical therapy, and gave me the emotional support I needed to get back to living after my life changed so abruptly.
I’d been riding a Castlewood horse when I was hurt. One of several owned by Chloe Teters and when I was fit to work, she presented me to JD who was ecstatic to find someone he knew and trusted to help him out of a distasteful situation. His barn manager had just been caught in flagrante delicto in the tack room with the barely 18 year old daughter of one of his major owners, and he’d been instructed to 'do something' about it immediately. He fired the guy at 7am, hired me at 8, and I’ve been here since, finding the job challenging, satisfying, and, thanks to JD's lingering affection for me, well paying.
So here I am at 30, blond hair, green eyes, in good shape from a fast metabolism and all those hours in the saddle. I have frequent, satisfying sex with a small, close circle of friends, men I’ve known for years, and an occasional trick, like the hunky Swedish vet student from a couple years ago. I’m fairly content with my life, though lately I’m feeling the urge for something more. A man of my own maybe?
My parents live in a rambling old house at the edge of a neighboring town, and we see each other frequently. I came out to them when I was 16 and heading off for my first full season of competition. They took the news with aplomb, finding it no odder than the fact that I could make a living dressing up in tight white breeches, and riding horses that cost more than their house. My mother welcomed my friends into her home with the same warmth and affection that she showed her pets. She fed and loved them, one and all.
Castlewood started life out in the boonies, but civilization crept out to meet us. Now the 400 acres we occupy is surrounded on three sides by country estates, 5 acres minimum, and by a huge open air mall across the road. The folks who live in the nearest estates have to put up with the scent of horses and their byproducts when the wind is right. Castlewood is a beautiful stable with its stately rows of pines, imposing stone buildings, and sleek, pricey horses dotting the pastures, and lends an air of country gentrification to the neighborhood.
I own one of the larger estates, purchased when they were practically giving them away cause no one wanted to live a whole thirty minutes from the nearest Starbucks. Now there’s one across the road in the mall, and my place is worth fifty times what I paid for it. It’s about four miles from my little barn to Castlewood, and I usually ride a horse back and forth. I own a Quarter horse mare named Xia, and the ride through the gathering dusk along the bridle paths that wander around the estates is my favorite time of day. I have a modest house by neighborhood standards and I cavort about in it with various friends almost every night. It really is a lovely place to live.
“Dean.” I heard the Oklahoma drawl of my favorite cowboy and turned to smile into his brown eyes, shadowed by the brim of his Stetson. “How they hangin?” he inquired, giving my butt a friendly squeeze on his way past. At twenty-six, Zane is a good looking guy with a rangy build suitable to lounging in the saddle all day. And he’s the real deal, son of a three time all around world champion cowboy, and a champion reiner in his own right. We ride together frequently, and my cow work is coming along nicely. Xia’s got the build and breeding for it, and Zane is a patient teacher. He grew up on his daddy’s huge ranch, riding and roping his way through the daily life of a working cattle ranch as soon as he could stay on a horse. He’s an excellent trainer, having that extra bit of horse savvy that separates the good from the great. He rodeoed when he was young, taking the Youth title 2 years in a row, but quit to concentrate on reining and cow work.
He lives with Chris, my money guy, in one of the estates on the far side of the development from me. Chris bought it the same time his dad advised me to buy my place. After I was injured, I realized I needed to get smarter about money since I'd be earning less of it. Chris's father took my winnings, rider contract fees, product endorsements, and insurance settlement, and turned them into a mid seven figure portfolio by the time I was 28. He passed me along to Chris after He joined the firm.
I introduced Chris to Zane after luring him away from a stable on the other side of the county four years ago. When Zane got out of his truck that first day and realized we were a jumper and dressage barn, he almost drove away. I convinced him to take a look around, introduced him to James and Ernesto, and showed him the south barn, which already housed Xia and Bella's two Quarter horse geldings. When I told him we’d be happy to keep a few steers around the place, Faith sent our van for his horses the next day. He met Chris a week later when he stopped by the barn to have me sign some papers. They dated for a month, Zane moved in, and, as different as they are, they are one of the strongest couples I know.
“Hey. Shoer's coming tomorrow morning. I'll have him do Cher first.” Who but a gay cowboy would name his horse Cher? The fact that she is a world caliber cutting horse, and had won the national finals in February only makes it funnier.
“Yeah? Well, Ah may show up jista git a gander at Taylor’s ass,” he said with a wink and sauntered off across the yard to the south barn. A minute later I heard Cher’s nicker as she greeted him. Horses know who love ‘em. I watched Zane work Cher for a while, appreciating the endless training it took to achieve those sliding stops and perfect roll backs. I stopped by the office to check in with Bella, and make sure money matters were under control. She was running her fingers through her hair in frustration, and crossed her eyes at me while she argued with the hay guy about the moldy bales.
“I don’t give a rat’s ass what it looked like when it got delivered to you. It’s moldy now and I won’t feed it. Get a truck out here by noon Wednesday or I’m going to take out an ad in Equine News and you’ll be paying me to replace it!” She banged the phone down. “That guy is such a jerk. Is there no where else we can buy alfalfa?”
“Probably. Call around and see what you can find. We'll change suppliers if you can get the same deal.”
“Thanks, Dean.” She looked up at me. “Taylor called and said he’s sending a new guy tomorrow, Skyler something.”
I looked at her in horror. “Jesus, he can’t do that. This is the last shoeing for Chloe’s horses shipping to Westview. It needs to be right.”
“I told him that. He swears this guy is good. He was insulted that I thought he’d send someone who didn’t know what they were doing.”
“I don’t give a shit if he’s insulted or not.” I thought for a moment. “I’ll let him do Cher first. If he’s ok with her, he can do the others.”
I walked back out to the barn shaking my head. It was always something. And what the hell kind of name was Skyler for a horse shoer?
The rest of the day passed uneventfully, and I was unsaddling Xia in my barn at 6:15. It was warm, so I stopped at the pool and stripped, diving in the deep end, and swimming a few laps to wash off the grunge of the day. I eventually surfaced at the shallow end right into a big droopy dick and balls dangling over the edge of the pool. Adam was laughing down at me as I put my hands on his knees, and pulled myself up when he leaned forward to kiss me, ruffling my wet hair.
Adam Anders is a gym rat and looks it, well-muscled and fit. He’s a 3rd cousin twice removed or something, a couple months younger than me, and we’ve been best pals since we were kids. We explored each other’s bodies thoroughly one long, hot August when we were fifteen and our families had taken adjoining cabins on a lake. That was the summer we both realized we liked boys, and that soft pink cock in front of my face represented a lot of firsts for me. The feelings that surged through me when I first slid it into my mouth one night in the bottom of a beached rowboat were overwhelming. Physically it was unbelievably arousing. The smell and taste and feel of him blotted everything else from my mind and I came in my shorts while I was still sucking him. Emotionally it was a watershed moment for me. It was the first time in my life that I’d felt completely right with myself. All the confusing, murky signals my mind and body had been sending me for the past few years made sense, and I finally understood. Adam will always hold a special place in my heart. You never forget your first.
“I brought stuff for burgers,” he said, slipping into the water next to me. He wrapped an arm around my chest from behind, and pushed off across the pool on his back, towing me along between his legs, his dick bobbing against my back. We swam and groped and dunked each other for an hour, playing like we were still kids. We know one another inside out, and I’m more comfortable with him than anyone I know.
After a while I hopped out to turn on the grill and came back to sit on the pool steps. He dog paddled over between my knees and wrapped his arms around my waist, taking my soft cock into his mouth. I leaned back on my hands while he worked me to orgasm, following his mouth up and down my shaft with his hand. Since we’ve been trading blow jobs for fifteen years, he knows what I like, and it didn’t take long. As he raised his wet mouth from my softening dick, I kissed him, running my tongue around his lips. “Mmmmm,” I purred, hugging him. “I’ll return the favor for dessert.”
We grilled burgers and ate naked by the pool. I seem to eat an awful lot of meals with no clothes on. We enjoyed the sunset over the tree line beyond my pasture. Did I mention I love living here? When it was almost dark we gathered up the leftovers and went inside. Adam had brought chocolate covered strawberries from the bakery, so we ate them snuggled up on the sofa in the den, watching Casa Blanca. I was propped on my side up against one arm of the couch, and Adam was lying in front of me, nestled into my crotch, my soft cock wedged into the crack of his ass. He comes over one or two nights a week, and we usually end up just like this, fooling around on the couch while we watch TV. I was just licking the last of the chocolate from his fingers, and thinking about licking dessert number two when I heard the soft ding of the security system. I clicked the mike for the gate. “Yeah?”
“Dean?” I heard Cas's cultured voice. “Got room for one more?”
“Sure,” I chuckled, clicking the gate and front door locks for him.
“Back here in the den,” I called when I heard him come in the front door. Castiel James Novak is the second son of a Pennsylvania coal baron, and the nicest rich person I know. He positively drips money, from the top of his well-styled ebony hair to the toes of his Pradas, but you could dress him from the Salvation Army and it wouldn’t matter. He’s a good guy, and he can ride a horse like no one else. He's the leading money winner on the circuit right now and there’s an Olympic gold medal tacked to his horse’s stall door. He rides out of Castlewood, lucky us. He's one of the best-looking men I know. Thick jet black hair, sapphire blue eyes and a wide mouth that smiles easily. He captures your attention the minute he enters the room.
He peeked into the den, grinned when he saw Adam and me, and dropped his clothes at the door. He knelt in front of Adam, grabbed his dick and kissed him, reaching up to squeeze my shoulder with his other hand. He’s very fond of Adam. I’ve often thought they’d be good for each other in a permanent sort of way, but nothing has come of it in the five years since I introduced them. When he finished greeting Adam, he pulled me down for a kiss, and we sort of slid to the floor in a pile. When we got sorted out, Cas was leaning against the couch, Adam was straddling his thighs facing him, and I was on my side with my head in their laps. It turned out to be a good set up and we pursued it for quite a while.
I couldn’t fit both their dicks in my mouth at the same time, so I held them together and ran my tongue up one side and down the other, lingering at the top to lick and suck. The sound of them kissing above me was hard to ignore, and occasionally I went up to join them. I was curled around Adam, who had a hand in my crotch, stroking me, rolling my nuts in his palm, and slipping a finger back now and then to give my pucker a little poke, just enough to get my attention.
Eventually Cas dragged Adam back onto the sofa, and knelt between his legs. I lubed them both, running my fist up and down Cas's cock while my other hand found Adam’s soft pucker, pressing a finger home quickly since he was already pretty excited. I watched as Cas entered him with one long gliding thrust. Adam began to moan, the sound changing from mild discomfort to pleasure as Cas slow fucked him using his whole length. I leaned against Adam’s side, one hand on his cock, the other on my own, his arm draped over my shoulder as he rubbed my chest, pinching a nipple now and then.
Observing sex is interesting. When you’re caught up in fucking, you miss so many of the finer details. How Adam closed his eyes each time Cas plunged deep into him, then opened them on the out stroke. The tightening of Adam’s nipples as he neared orgasm. The ripples flowing across Cas's abdominals as his hips worked. As Cas began to thrust faster, I stood and stroked myself, watching Adam carefully so we could all shoot within a few seconds of each other. I don’t know why I get such a kick out of that, but I do, so I work at it.
Suddenly Cas pulled out and jerked himself quickly, leaning over Adam on one arm. As soon as he began to shoot, he barely hung on to his cock, letting it twitch and jerk in his loose fist, pulsing out semen in hot little bursts. I was only a moment behind, and when my first load hit his belly, Adam groaned deeply and joined in. The three of us grunted and moaned for a couple minutes, and amused ourselves rubbing three different consistencies of cum around Adam’s belly until he started to giggle. Eventually we staggered arm in arm up the stairs, down the hall, and into the shower.
It’s an orgy room all by itself, six feet square with a tile bench around three sides, and detachable shower massage heads all over the place. Adam’s talented mouth pulled another orgasm out of Cas leaving him sprawled on the bench too spent to move, so we hosed him off with a shower head. Once we were clean and mostly dry, we piled onto the bed and dragged the quilt up to our chins, arranging arms and legs for maximum contact and comfort. Since it’s my house I usually get the middle, but tonight I climbed in last, and let Cas pull Adam into the curve of his body. I cozied up to Cas’s warm backside, and we were off to dreamland.
The alarm woke us at 6 am, and I buzzed Maria in the kitchen that there would be three for breakfast. Yes, I have a housekeeper. She arrives at 5:30 every weekday to get my ass out of bed on time, and send me off with a healthy breakfast in my tummy. Then she cleans a little, starts dinner, and is home by the time her kids get out of school. I hired her shortly after I bought the house. She was young, scared, and illegal, so I got her legal, helped her learn English, and introduced her to her future husband Fernando, Ernesto’s cousin. I pay her well and in return, she’s nice to my friends, and takes good care of me. We’ve become close over the years, and I know it would make her happy if I found someone to come home to at night.
We grabbed a quick wake-up shower and trooped downstairs to pancakes, sausage, and orange juice. Adam is a lawyer with a large law firm in the city. He had an eight o’clock meeting, so he headed out when I did at 7. Cas had nothing going till afternoon, so he followed me to the barn to help re-set the jumping arena. We change it up regularly to keep the horses from getting stale.
I was supervising the delivery of two new jumpers when I heard a truck I didn’t recognize come up the drive. It pulled in past the horse van, and stopped about ten feet away, to where I couldn't see the cab. I figured it had to be the new farrier. When I looked at the truck again, a long denim-covered leg was stretched from the seat out onto the ground, and a lean golden arm extended to the edge of the door. This was definitely not Taylor.
When I first took over Castlewood, I’d tried every farrier in the five-county area, finally settling on Taylor as our primary shoer. He's good with the horses, firm, but quiet, and has a knack for the subtleties of trimming a hoof . Our horses move better and hold up longer under hard work when Tay does their feet. He has a few guys working for him, but always does our horses himself, and I was not going to welcome this new guy with open arms until he proved to be as good as Tay. As I stared, the golden arm became a smoothly curved shoulder that merged into a beautiful wide back and narrow hips.
Everyone’s forever starts somewhere and, although I didn’t know it at the time, mine began when Skyler Edwards unfolded his 6’1” self from the cab of the truck. He wore bib overalls over a white tank, and a baseball cap on backwards to keep his golden blond hair out of his face. Some guys just have a presence, a ‘something’ about them that draws you, like a lemming to a cliff. Skyler had it. My gaze traveled slowly down his body and back up again. By the time I reached his face my respiration had increased and my palms were sweaty.
James and Ernesto had come up behind me and were watching with raised eyebrows and open mouths.
“Madre de Dios,” breathed Ernesto.
James was more succinct. “Holy fuck.”
I couldn’t speak at all. He was spectacular. His eyes were the clear blue of the sea, crinkled at the corners; set in that strong, tan face, they were heart stopping. He was lean and hard, all sinewy muscle from wrestling uncooperative horses around all day. From his neck to his wrists, one curve melted into another, accentuated by a light sprinkle of soft golden hair. I couldn’t see his legs, but doubted they would be any less awesome than the rest of him.
He was looking down at his clipboard as he began to walk toward us. Little puffs of dust kicked up from his long strides and hung in the air. When he got near, he glanced up with the beginnings of a smile, but when he met my gaze, he stopped in his tracks, and the smile died from his mouth. The pit of my stomach knotted up so quickly that I put a hand on my gut. He stood there with his clipboard clutched in one hand, knuckles white, arm muscles tensed. It was one of those moments that you read about, but think can’t possibly happen in real life.
“I…uh…I’m…” He stopped and swallowed. “I’m Sky, the shoer,” he murmured, staring at me.
I stood there mute, rooted to the ground, until James goosed me. “Ooh. Dean Winchester, manager. Hi.” I managed to shuffle forward, and held out my hand. He stared at it for a second, and then closed his fingers over mine in a gradually tightening grip that had me wincing in a few seconds. Farriers have strong hands.
He dropped my hand with a chagrined look. “Sorry.” He glanced around the yard. “Where should I park?”
“Back up to the middle door. We'll use those cross ties.” I waved a hand toward the barn door, and he nodded and got back in his truck. The sight of those bibs tightening over his round ass as he lifted his leg into the truck had all three of us gulping for air. I went to get Cher. When I arrived with the mare, Sky had his truck opened up, his nail box out, and was buckling his heavy leather shoeing apron around his hips where it settled low in front, accentuating his package. I closed my eyes and counted to five, and then turned the mare around in the cross tie stall where she switched her tail, and eyed Sky almost as much as I had.
“She’s pretty quiet, but I’ll hold her for you,” I said as he walked around Cher, talking softly to her and scratching her neck. You face the back of the horse a lot when you’re shoeing so I had time to study Sky, and I liked everything I saw. He was good with the horse, quiet, but firm, and he had an incredible ass.
Zane came whistling around the corner, and stopped dead when he caught sight of Sky leaning casually on Cher. “Good Gawd Almighty, who are you?”
I jumped in before Sky could get his mouth open. “Zane, Sky, one of Taylor's guys.” Sky held out his hand. Zane stared at it for a long moment just like I had, and I wondered how Sky got through a day. I suppose not every man he shook hands with was gay, but still. They shook, lingering a little. Zane was happily partnered with Chris, but even he wasn’t immune to Sky’s charm or pheromones or whatever the hell it was.
Sky said. "Pleasure to meet you." Zane gave him another once over before he headed off to the south barn to get his reining horse.
Before he started on her front feet, Sky asked me to trot her out and back, and on the return, I glanced up to see if he wanted us to go again, but he was staring at my crotch and apparently hadn’t seen a single step the horse had taken. I silently thanked whatever gods had made me put on my snuggest training tights this morning; it's always nice to know you're looking hot when you need to be. When he realized we were just standing there, he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment before asking me to trot her again. Finally I left him with James on the lead, and went off to ride a three year old filly that Chloe had purchased sight unseen few months ago. She was a joy to ride. We worked on gait transitions for a while, and then I handed the reins to one of the stable boys and went to take a leak.
I pushed the door open, and there stood Sky with his dick in one hand pissing a hard stream into the urinal. Christ, what a sight. He’d undone the straps of his bibs which were hanging halfway down his thighs and had his other hand under his tank, running it over his chest and belly, obviously enjoying himself. He was wearing a jock under the bibs and had pulled his cock out one side of the pouch. A trimmed golden triangle curled around the base of his penis, the tan cheeks of his ass were framed by the white straps of the jock and, once again, I was struck dumb.
I stood there staring at his cock long past what could have been shrugged off as natural male curiosity. He finished peeing, stroked himself a couple times, either for my benefit or just because it felt good, and was tucking back into the jock before I managed to drag my eyes up to his amused gaze. He cocked an eyebrow at me as he hitched up the bib straps and slid by me out the door, brushing his crotch lightly along my arm on the way past. I closed my eyes and hung my head. Damn, Dean, get a grip. The guy was turning me into a moron. I pissed, gave it a couple strokes to make myself feel better, and headed back to the barn where Sky was finishing up.
I hazarded a glance at Sky but he was absorbed in the final rasping of a front foot. He set it down, narrowed his eyes at each hoof in turn, and pronounced the gelding done. He glanced at me and blinked, expecting James, I guess, and I gave him a bright smile, hoping to get by the men’s room incident as quickly as possible. He held my gaze a moment, expressionless, and then turned to watch the skinny grey mare come down the barn aisle. I swapped leads with James, and led the mare into the cross ties.
“She’s thrushy in her off hind,” I said. “I need you to trim her close so we can see how bad it is.”
He nodded as he watched the mare cock that toe. “Sore.”
“A little," I agreed.
He nodded again, and went to work on her. When he had her trimmed, he waved me down so he could show me. Our knees bumped when I squatted next to him, but I didn’t move away. We decided that the mare wasn’t too bad, and he finished shoeing her. I gave her a tetanus shot, and James took her off to soak her foot in an antiseptic bath. I got called away to help load an uncooperative Arab, and when I got back, Sky had packed up and all I could see of him was the dust trail his truck made as it went down the lane. I stared after him until the air cleared.
The following Saturday morning we had a dressage test at Show Park, the local horse show venue, and I stopped for a mocha on the way. Someone held the door as I reached it, and I glanced up with a smile and a ‘thanks,’ but it stuck in my throat when I saw Skys grinning face. His pale blue polo and khakis were a far cry from the bibs. He looked absolutely edible.
He followed me in, and we joined the line. After taking a long look at my tall black boots, white breeches, and formal shirt under the short black jacket, he met my eyes again. “Dressage? Thought you rode jumpers.”
“I do, mostly. Today is just a test before the regionals, and everybody rides. It’s good experience. How’d you know I jumped?”
“Tay said.” He stared into the pastry case for a moment, then turned back to me and bit his lower lip. From the expression on his face, I thought he might be about to declare his undying love, but instead he said, “I’ll be back out early Monday to check the grey mare.” I nodded, we got our coffees, and left.
I got to the barn around 7am on Monday, just in time to watch Sky back into place by the middle doors. I was determined to act like a normal person this time and wandered casually over to his truck. As I opened the door for him, he handed me a to-go cup. “Grande mocha, one sugar, lots of whipped cream” he announced, grinning at me when my face registered my surprise. Not just good looking, and hung like the proverbial horse, but kind and thoughtful, too? Could he get any better? I had to find out. I looked into those mesmerizing blue eyes, putting a little heat in it, and the humor drained out of his face to be replaced with something that made my heart pound.
“Come over tonight,” I purred softly. “I want to spend some time with you without an audience.” I cut my eyes at James and Faith, smiling at us from the office door. He looked at me carefully, running his eyes over my face before nodding, got out of the truck, and went to work. I enjoyed my mocha while he approved the grey mare’s progress, and just before he left, I tucked a note with my cell # and address into his front bib pocket. He patted it and gave me a smile.
I called Maria with a few requests, then called Sam and Adam, who each had permanent security codes to my place, and told them I needed the house to myself tonight. With that accomplished, I zombied through the rest of the day. When I got home, I showered quickly, jogged down the stairs, and puttered in the kitchen waiting for Sky who arrived around 7, freshly showered and looking like pure sin.
“Hello, Cowboy.” I greeted him and pulled him through the door. He followed me to the kitchen, and I poured wine for both of us, then led the winding way to the jungle pool with its hot tub tucked in one corner. Maria had laid out towels, and placed candles here and there.
Then things kind of ground to a halt. I’m not a bashful guy, but I just couldn’t relax with him. My palms were sweaty, and I couldn’t think of a damn thing to say that didn’t sound idiotic. I turned away from him slightly, cursing this as a bad idea when I felt his big warm hand slide down my chest. He spread his feet slightly, pulled me back against him, and put his mouth to my ear.
“Thanks for having me over,” he said softly. “I was gonna ask if you didn’t.” He hooked his hand up over my opposite shoulder and squeezed softly, holding me against him.
I draped a hand over his arm, and we stood there quite a while, sipping our wine and watching the sun go down. His chest rose and fell in deep, even breaths behind me, and I could feel the steady thud of his heart against my back. When it was almost dark, he turned to me, and I felt his warm breath wash across my cheek. “Gonna feed me?”
“Yeah. Sorry.” I reluctantly pulled free of his arm, and stepped away from him to get some platters of cheese, crackers, fruit and cold chicken out of the fridge by the barbecue. I arranged them on the edge of the fire pit, and he sat down close to me on a chaise lounge while we ate. At one point he plucked a grape and offered it to me, his hand a couple inches from my mouth so that I had to reach for it. I took the first knuckle of his finger as well, and heard him suck in a quick breath as I tickled the tip of it with my tongue while it slid from my lips. Such a hokey old move, but sooo effective.
I guess that broke the ice cause the next thing I knew, I was on my back on the chaise, and Sky was above me, braced on those beautiful golden arms, lowering his face to mine. Dear lord, could he kiss. I’ve been kissed by a lot of men, a few women, and a couple horses but he was in a class by himself. Slow, deep, sincere. He kissed like he meant it. I’ve met people who hug that way. You come away from one of their hugs all warm inside with a silly smile on your face. After several minutes of learning every inch of my mouth, he pulled back slightly and looked at me. I lay there, slack jawed, eyes shut, totally undone.
I took a page from James’s book with a heartfelt, breathless, “Holy Fuck.”
He sort of choked, and jumped to his feet. I opened my eyes and looked at him, but he avoided my gaze and stripped off his clothes quickly, then pulled me to my feet and tugged my shirt off. If he looked good dressed, it was nothing compared to how he looked naked. He was golden all over except for his small dark nipples, pinkish brown cock, and darker scrotum which hung full and inviting between his thighs. The only hair on his body was a light haze on his forearms and lower legs, and a little ribbon trailing down from his belly button to the blond triangle I’d seen in the men’s room at the barn. The rest of him was smooth and tan, a silken veneer over the hard planes of his chest, and the tight muscles of his belly. Wow.
I finally roused myself enough to help, and we eased into the hot bubbling water, settling thigh to thigh on a deep bench. He draped his arms out along the rim of the tub, his fingertips resting lightly on my shoulder. I gathered my wits about me, determined to stop acting like a love struck teenager.
We talked more easily after that. I learned that he was twenty-seven and had grown up in Kentucky with an older brother and sister, leaving the one horse town of his birth the day after high school graduation. He’d ridden all his life and loved horses, but needed to make a living, so becoming a farrier seemed like the best option. After two years of school in Missouri, he’d been practicing for six years and had moved here a couple months ago. His brother had gone to college with Taylor’s sister, and Tay had offered him a job when one of his other guys moved to California. As I told him about my career-ending accident, he pulled me a little closer, hearing the regret in my voice, and I leaned into him, enjoying the solid comfort of his body.
When we were both pruney and sweating, I pulled him up out of the tub and shoved him into the pool, leaping in after him with a big splash. I came up sputtering with no Sky in sight, and thought ‘fuck, he can’t swim and I’ve killed him.’ I was about to dive and look for him when he grabbed me around the waist from behind, and shot us both up out of the water like dolphins. We crashed back into the pool and he rolled me around until we were face to face, my arms around his neck, his hands on my ass, both of us treading water just enough to stay afloat. He licked a drop of water off my nose, then closed his mouth over mine and almost drowned us both as we stopped kicking to concentrate on the kiss.
He paddled us to the steps where he rolled onto his back, and pulled me on top of him, belly to belly, holding my head with both hands so he could look me in the face. I flattened my hands against his chest, feeling his nipples harden into my palms, and stared back into those beautiful blue eyes. Finally he spoke in a low voice. “I wanna be with you, Dean.”
I smiled at him gently. “Sky, I asked you over here to get to know you better, not to jump you on the first date.”
“I know. I want to.” When I didn’t reply immediately, a shadow crossed his face, and he began to shift out from under me. “Forget it. Sorry.”
I gripped his shoulders, holding him to me. “No, I want to. Jesus, you have no idea how much. I just don’t want you to think I expect it.”
“I don’t think that.” He nuzzled his face into my neck. “Please.”
Fields of Gold Part Two
A/N: If you are enjoying the story and would like me to continue, please leave a comment. Thanks!
Thank You VicFM for sending me this Dean Pic! DDD
