Fields of Gold Part Five

[deansdarkdream]

Dedication: To my Angels. I love you with every beat of my heart.
Title: Fields of Gold
Authors: DDD, L, and A
Rating: NC17
Pairings: Dean/Sam, Sam/Cas/Dean
Warnings: Based on a RL love story. Ecstasy, angst, tragedy and triumph.
Disclaimer: We don't own Dean, Sam, Cas or Adam.
A/N: Everything starts to unravel for Dean and Sam in the aftermath of the attack.


Fields of Gold
Part Five

I felt the blood drain from my face and I got light headed for a second. "Raped you? Jesus Christ!" No wonder Sam had never talked to me about him.

"I was pretty wild back then, still in high school but just barely. Good thing my old man didn't require a college degree to bus tables." He sighed heavily. "I was cruising one night and he tried to pick me up. He was older than I liked and looked pretty tough. I was a skinny kid then, and he made me uncomfortable so I blew him off. He grabbed me into his car later that night when I was walking home. He had a place on the east side of town and when we got there, he dragged me inside and yanked my pants down. I was fighting him by then, but I think that just made it worse." He stopped for a bit and when he started talking again, his voice was flat, as though he was speaking about someone else.

"I don't think he even used spit, just rammed into me and came. I fought him but he was a lot bigger than me and . . . " His voice trailed off and he turned sideways to bury his face against my chest. I hugged him tightly to me, sick about what that man had done to him, once to the boy he'd been, and again to the man I loved.

"He dropped me off where he'd found me and I made it home. I bled for a week, but I was too damn scared to go to the doctor. A few months later, he tried to pick me up again and this time I let him. I guess I thought if I went voluntarily, I'd have more control over what happened and that was true to some degree; he was a little gentler with me. As time went on, I just fell into it. He gave me money sometimes or took me to Dallas for the weekend. He wasn't around all the time and he didn't bother me about what I did when I wasn't with him, so it worked okay until I met you." He turned to me then with an imploring look on his face.

"Baby, I need to tell you this. I’ve wanted to for years, but I just couldn't find the right time. Whenever we were together, I just wanted to be with you. I’m sorry, Dean." He looked away and his hands clenched mine tightly. "And I was afraid you'd think that maybe I was like him somehow. Please tell me you're not sitting there wondering what the fuck you're doing with me."

I shook him a little. "You know better. I love you. Nothing you could tell me is gonna change that." I kissed the top of his head as he lay back down.

"You're the second man who's ever fucked me and you'll probably be the last."

"Yeah, I sort of figured. That has always meant a lot to me, even when I didn't know the reason."

We sat for a while longer, then he turned and crawled up me until his nose was three inches from mine. "I could really use a blow job, and I bet you could, too, huh?" He was rubbing my crotch as he spoke and my cock confirmed his guess, hardening quickly in his hand. He smiled and began to kiss me, putting some heat into it, and in seconds, my pants were off and he was running his tongue up the underside of my cock and sucking gently on the head. His lip was too sore for much more than that, but he used his hand too, circling his thumb and middle finger snugly, and it was more than enough to get me off quickly. Sam sat there smiling at me as I tried to get my breath back and stop my legs from trembling.

"Jesus, it's only been four days," I said, shivering as he licked a drop of cum from my belly. He was still dressed, something I remedied quickly, flinging his shirt across the room in my haste to get down to skin. I pushed him back on the couch and knelt on the floor next to him so I could use both hands. His shorts made it to mid-thigh, just enough for me to get my hands on him, cupping his balls in one, and guiding his cock into my mouth with the other. He gasped when I sucked him in and grabbed my head for a moment. I thought he was going to stop me but he was just slowing me down.

I took the hint and reined in my enthusiasm, moving up and down on him in long, deep strokes. Since I'd been the “equipment”, I hadn't gotten to enter the deep throat contest, but I would have come in second so I soon had Sam moaning with every plunge. When he got close, I held his cock firmly at the base with one hand and quickly bobbed my head on just the top of his dick, letting my lips catch on the rim. His moans rose in pitch until he was almost wailing, there was a moment of silence, then he grunted deeply and filled my throat, pulsing into my mouth until he was drained.

I gave him a couple minutes, then pulled him to his feet and up to our shower. We stayed under the warm spray, soaping each other and kissing. I got carried away and unthinkingly ran my hand down his back into the crack of his ass like I'd done a thousand times. He stiffened, clenching his butt and flinching away from me. I stopped immediately but he grabbed my arm and kept me close to him as he relaxed.

"It's okay, just caught me by surprise."

"God, I'm sorry. It's just so good to be with you again. I'll leave you alone 'til . . "

"It's okay, babe," he assured me. "Just go easy." He moved into my arms so that my hands were on his back and leaned into me. I soaped him again and slowly rubbed my way down to his butt, cupping his firm cheeks in both hands. I squeezed his ass, sliding one finger gently down the center, pausing to circle his hole very gently, barely touching him. He was relaxed against me, kissing my neck, then I moved on to his arms and shoulders, and soon we were in bed, curled up together.

I worked Saturday morning, catching up on a week's worth of neglect. All the horses were fresh and I rode my ass off trying to stay on them as they gallivanted around the arena. At one point, Sam called and suggested some sort of get together on Sunday. He had spoken with Adam and Cas since the attack, but hadn't seen anyone yet. We settled on a wine and cheese thing and I left him pondering the relative merits of Californian vs. Australian wines, and making a shopping list. Sam had chicken spudini ready for lunch when I got home and life began to feel more normal, something I was thrilled about. I like things comfortable. Not in a rut, but I like being able to count on certain things, and Sam in our kitchen when I got home was one of them.

Saturday afternoon we ran around, buying all sorts of silly stuff for our party. We found cock-and-ball ice cube trays at a novelty shop, and penis pasta at the adult store where we stopped for condoms and lube. I made penis pasta salad when we got home, giggling the entire time, popping little penis pastas into my mouth, then sticking them out at Sam who shook his head at me but came over and sucked one seductively from my lips. That led to sex in the kitchen, a noisy blow job apiece, then we spent an hour moving furniture around so we could have a table each for white wine, red wine, food, and desserts.

Sam had been somewhat quiet all day and I wondered if he was uncomfortable about facing our friends after what had happened to him. Before dinner, we took a long walk around the estates, holding hands, not talking much. As we wandered through the community gardens in the center of the development, Vincent pulled me down onto a bench and took my hand in both of his, running his fingers over the veins on the back of my hand. He was silent for so long that I finally put a finger under his chin, raising his eyes to mine. “You okay?”

He had an odd expression on his face and my heart lurched a little when he said, “I need to ask you something. I’m not sure what you’ll think.”

I stared at him for a moment, wondering what could have him acting so strangely. “Go ahead.”

He swallowed and licked his lips, then turned on the bench so he was facing me. “I want us to make it legal.”

I blinked at him. “Texas doesn’t allow same-sex marriage,” I said stupidly, totaling missing the point.

“I know that, Dean,” he said patiently. “I mean I want a commitment ceremony of some kind. I want something between us, something that tells the rest of the world how important you are to me, how much I love you.” He looked away for a minute, his eyes wandering unseeingly over the gardens. When he looked back at me, his voice was soft. “I thought he was gonna kill me this time. I couldn’t stand the thought that I might die and you’d be alone, without even a piece of paper that validated what I felt for you. I want my ring on your finger, Dean, and I want to wear yours. I’ve thought a lot about this the last few days and it’s important to me.”

My voice quavered unsteadily but I was smiling as I said, “Are you asking me to marry you?”

He smiled and gently ran a knuckle up a tear track on my cheek. “Yes, sweetheart, I am. If you’ll have me.” He gave me back the words I had said to him the night I told him that I loved him and wanted us to be together.

“Oh, God,” I sputtered and burst into tears.

He held me until I calmed down a little, sniffling and wiping my nose on the sleeve of my shirt like a kid. “Is that a ‘yes’?” he asked.

That set me off again but I bit my tongue hard and managed to get out, “Yes! Yes! God, I’m so happy!” I grabbed him and buried my soggy face in his neck, so incredibly glad that I had followed my heart like Chris had advised me to. Because I’d had the faith to do that, I had this wonderful man who wanted me to be his, forever and ever, amen.

We wandered home in a daze, at least I did, talking about what we wanted to do, who to invite, what kind of rings to buy, who we could get to officiate. We finally decided to have something in the back yard in late spring, when the garden would be coming to life. We each wanted to buy a ring for the other so that it would be a surprise. By the time we got home, we had the guest list up to about 80 people and that was just off the tops of our heads. We had no idea what to do about an official, but I said I’d ask Jesse because I thought Chris had mentioned they'd done something a couple years ago, and he and Ben both wore rings.

The detective called right after dinner and told us that they had no leads on Rand and that it appeared he had left the area. That wasn't surprising but I had no intention of dismissing Jesse's guys from their surveillance of the property until that sick bastard was dead or under lock and key, so we forgot about the call and went to bed early with popcorn and a movie but Sam got bored and I missed a major plot development when my eyes were shut tight as I climaxed into his hand. I gave up on the movie, clicking it off and turning my attention to Sam, sucking a hot load out of him before rolling to my back and pulling him on top of me. He propped himself on his elbows and we looked at each other for a moment.

I smiled at him. “Do you have any idea what you mean to me?” I ran my fingers lightly down his cheek, stopping to caress the corner of his mouth with the pad of my thumb.

He looked deep into my eyes and his face clouded over a little. “Yeah, I think I do, but don’t ever stop telling me, or showing me. I love you, Dean. Some days, I still can’t believe that we ended up together, like I dreamed about for so long.” He fell silent for a moment, then spoke hesitantly. “Are you angry with me now that you know about Rand? Because I didn’t tell you sooner?”

I pulled his head down to my chest. “No, baby. The only thing I’m angry about is that he got his hands on you a second time.” He nuzzled into my neck and I fell asleep like that, with the warm, comforting weight of Sam's body pinning me to the bed, our soft cocks nestled together. When I woke up several hours later, we had rolled onto our sides but we were still close, my arm over his rib cage and his head bowed down to my chest.

Sunday dawned clear and sunny so we moved the party to the jungle pool. Jesse and Ben came early so Jesse could check on his guys. Adam and Cas arrived and were hugging Sam when Sky got there. Zane and Chris finally showed up, fashionably late. Chris had just gotten back from a week long trip and it was obvious they’d spent some time in bed before coming over; Zane had that just fucked look about him. Still, Chris could barely keep his hands off him and I intercepted several lingering smiles between them as I moved around the party.

I stopped being the host for a moment and found Sam talking to Sky and James near the hot tub. I wrapped my arms around him from behind, kissed the back of his neck and whispered, “It’s been two whole hours since I told you that I love you. I don’t want you to forget.”

He smiled and leaned back into me, reaching around to grip my thighs with his strong hands, flexing his fingers into me as he turned his head to kiss my mouth. “I'll never forget.”

When it cooled off, we ended up sprawled around the living room. Zane was on the floor, leaning back between Chris’s legs, his arms wrapped up around Chris’s knees. Cas lay on his back on the floor with his head in Sky’s lap. Adam sat in a chair at Cas’s feet and played footsie with him. Sam and I took the couch, my legs across his lap as I leaned back against the arm. We talked a little about the lack of progress in Sam’s case, then moved on to Zane’s chances in the cutting horse nationals next February. We decided to make a long weekend of it, all of us driving to Amarillo on Friday morning and staying at Zane's dad’s place.

Several days later, we went out to dinner. Sam was quiet on the way home, but reached for my hand and held it as I drove through the dark neighborhood. As we got near the community garden, he squeezed my fingers.

"Stop for a minute."

When I pulled over and killed the engine, he opened his door and hitched his chin at me. "Come on." I followed him into the garden and dropped down onto 'our' bench next to him. "I've got something for you."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small jewelry box. He turned it toward me and flipped up the lid. Even in the dim glow of the garden lights, I could see the dull gleam of gold. I looked at him in surprise.

"I thought we were gonna wait 'til the ceremony."

"We are. I guess engagement rings are more a 'straight' thing, but I needed to do something now. This is part of the set I'm having made." He took it from the box and slipped it on the third finger of my left hand. It was narrow and engraved with a design that I couldn't make out in the low light of the garden.

"It's a Celtic vine. Endless, like us." His intense eyes looked at me solemnly and I lost it.

"Damn it, all I ever do in this garden is cry," I whimpered through clenched teeth as tears trickled down my face. "It's beautiful, Sam. Thank you."

He held my hand, his fingers running over the ring and we sat there 'til we got chilly, then drove home to hot chocolate in the den. Sam lay on his side in front of the fire, staring into the flames. I was sitting on the floor leaning against the couch, my feet in the small of his back. He spoke softly. "This has been a big year for us. Getting together, living together, getting engaged . . ." he turned and smiled at me as I admired my ring.

We went up to bed and when I came out of the bathroom, Sam was face down on the bed. My heart stopped for an instant as my mind flashed back to that awful day, but then I recognized his signature invitation and began to breathe again. I stepped closer and looked down at him. His ass was round and perfect, rising up from the base of his back. Between his spread legs, his balls squashed out on either side of his semi-hard cock, which was pointing toward his toes. I could just see the darker promise of his hole in the shadowed cleft of his ass, and the sight of him offering himself to me sent every drop of blood in my body directly to my cock. I crawled up between his legs and lay my weight down on him, rubbing my face along his, running my hands down his arms until our fingers laced.

"You sure?" I whispered and he nodded, eyes closed. "I'll be real gentle, sweetheart, but tell me if you want me to stop." I worked my way slowly down, trailing my tongue along his shoulders, stopping to kiss the burn scars. He had decided not to have corrective surgery and the dark little indentations marred the otherwise smooth skin of his back. I kissed and nibbled on his butt for a while, wanting him to be as comfortable as possible before I got really intimate with him. When I parted his ass and slid my tongue down his crack, he moaned softly and arched up to me.

I played a long time with my mouth, licking from his pucker up to his balls, sucking my way back down. Each time I pushed my tongue into him, he groaned and twisted his body, trying to get closer to me, until he was on his knees with his face in the sheets. The smell and taste of him had me so hard it hurt and I squeezed my cock in one hand as I rimmed him, knowing that soon I'd be sinking it deep inside him. Finally I couldn't take it any longer and pulled back, pushing him down onto the bed again.

I lubed us both really well and very slowly pushed one finger a little way into him. Sam held his breath for a moment, and I stopped until he exhaled and began breathing evenly again. As my finger slid the rest of the way in, he lifted his hips to take it deeper. After a few minutes and two fingers, he pulled away from me and rolled onto his back. I thought he had changed his mind and began to crawl up onto him, but he pushed me back down and raised his knees. I looked at him in surprise; he had never let me take him this way. He smiled at me a little. "I want to see you," he said softly. I leaned down and kissed him passionately, my rigid cock smacking wetly up against my belly with each thrust of his tongue.

I scooted up close to him and angled my hips to bring us together. As I pressed the head of my penis to him, I watched his face for signs of discomfort. He swallowed once, then tugged on my knees, coaxing me forward. I pushed gently into him, stopping once, until the head of my cock passed through. Vincent closed his eyes for a moment and took a couple deep breaths. I didn't move until he looked up at me again. As I slid into him, we watched each other. His eyes narrowed slightly as I sank deeper and my jaw tightened at the incredible feel of him, hot and smooth and tight.

"Oh, baby, you feel so good. I like being able to kiss you." I leaned forward and did just that. We fucked slowly for a long time, neither of us wanting to bring things to an end too soon. When we finally did get going, I braced my arms on either side of his chest and used the full swing of my hips to stroke him with my entire cock. He took it for about two minutes, then his face contorted and he shot all over his chest and stomach. I only made it through his first two blasts, then slipped out of him and added my load to the hot cum spattered all over him.

"Jesus Christ!" Sam chuckled when he had enough breath. "Don't tell me - let me guess. Engagement sex, right?" I snorted and we staggered into the shower.

That was the end of August. He had the first nightmare three days later.

The first few were just bad dreams. I'd wake up to the sound of Sam muttering to himself or whimpering a little. The touch of my hand running down his arm would quiet him and he'd fall back into a sound sleep.

One night I awoke to an empty bed and went quietly down to find him curled into a chair in the library. He was staring out the window with one arm crossed up over his chest holding onto his shoulder. After watching him for a few moments, I left him alone, going back to bed to lie there sleepless until he came up a couple hours later, backing into me and pulling my arms around him, then pressing the knuckles of my hand to his mouth. He was breathing a little fast like you do when you're frightened. I held him close and tried to will away the awful feeling that we had a lot more to go through before we were over the attack.

He wasn't eating well either, and looked gaunt and tired. Chris called me one day after a business lunch at Stiva's and asked me what the hell was wrong with Sam. I just said he was having trouble sleeping but nothing serious. I guess I thought if I didn't acknowledge that something more was wrong, it might go away.

The next GP was September 9th in Ohio and we had a pretty good time. The change of scenery seemed to be good for Sam; he didn't have any bad dreams while we were there.

I did well, taking Minx to a 3rd, and managed to get Kahn around cleanly for 2nd, but people were on to me now, and were watching Kahn's rise in the points standings with a wary eye. They could see I was in good form; hungry for another win, and it sharpened everyone up a little.

The following two events were back to back in California. It was with an anxious and heavy heart that I said goodbye to Sam the second Thursday in September and flew off to sunny So Cal without him. Chloe had all sorts of parties planned and wanted me to stay between events. Sam couldn't take that much time away from the restaurants, so he planned to come out for the 2nd weekend, and then we'd fly home together.

Despite Sam's absence, I was looking forward to riding since I'd done so well at the first one. Well, pride goeth before a fall, and this GP was a disaster. Minx took down three fences in a row and I excused myself from the ring, afraid there was something more wrong with her than just feeling lazy. Carlos looked her over thoroughly, and other than a slightly elevated temperature, she seemed fine.

Kahn had a terrible day too, skittering sideways between every jump, bucking a couple times, and finally charging through a wispy vertical like he didn't even see it. One of the rails whipped around sideways when he plowed through it, whacking me in the side. The impact knocked me forward, half out of the saddle, while we were still in the air and the jolt of landing finished the job; I somersaulted forward to land flat on my back beneath Kahn's iron-shod feet. Luckily, he missed stepping directly on me, but one of his rear hooves clipped my hip as he passed over me.

I ended up with badly bruised ribs from the rail, the breath knocked out of me by the fall, and a huge, painful purple knot on my hip. I walked off the course to standing applause, but we couldn't continue, so we got a big fat DNF for our efforts. Two DNFs after winning the week before really sucked and I was in a vile mood as the medics poked and prodded me.

They finally let me go and I limped back to our barn area, grumpily assuring everyone that I would live.

I called Sam to let him know what happened before someone else gave him the news, but after a few tries, I couldn't reach him, which pissed me off even more. Finally, I left a curt message saying I’d fallen, but wasn't badly hurt. I thought that would get his attention. I spent most of the next day in bed.

Sam didn't call me until late afternoon. By then I was angry, and so sore I could hardly get out of bed, but I was up and dressing for a cocktail party that Chloe had arranged. I was bitchy to him until the concern in his voice registered and I backed off a little. He made me put my right hand on the hotel bible and swear that I was all right, which I did, knowing that if the situation were reversed, I’d be frantic with worry. He didn't offer any explanation for where he'd been or what had taken him so damn long to call me back, so I wasn't much happier after the call than I'd been before.

I hung out with Cas that week, very tempted to console myself with one of his satisfying blow jobs, but managed to keep it to the occasional make out session, one of which had us both leaking through our trousers before yet another party. We changed and headed off arm in arm, got shit faced, and ended the night in my bed where we slept curled up together like puppies, both of us too drunk and depressed to get in trouble. He was missing Adam and I ached for Sam, although I could have cheerfully strangled him by now. His daily calls were very unsatisfying, which meant I was pretty fucking miserable to be around that week.

After a couple days, the worst of the pain was gone; just my ribs hurt when I laughed or coughed, so I tried hard not to do either.

Saturday morning Sam called me and was very subdued. After a little small talk, he told me that he couldn't get free to come out after all. I got a shiver of goose bumps up my arms at the sound of his voice. I knew that it wasn't work that was preventing him from joining me. When he was finished talking, I was silent, unable to hide my disappointment. He apologized, told me he'd call me tomorrow night, and said goodbye as quickly as possible without actually hanging up on me. I just sat on the bed and stared at the wall. Every instinct I had told me to jump on a plane and get home to him, but I couldn't possibly walk out on Chloe with the GP less than 24 hours away.

I got through the cocktail party that night, although I'm sure everyone thought I was having a delayed reaction to the fall. I couldn't string three words together coherently. Cas came back to the room with me again, getting me out of my party clothes and into bed. He crawled in with me and pulled me close, nuzzling my neck and rubbing my chest softly, but I didn't sleep much. Breakfast was three cups of coffee and by the time I got out to the show grounds, I was shaky and sick. Chloe took one look at me and sat me down in the tack room, force-feeding me a sandwich from the catered luncheon in the clubhouse. I choked it down and felt better, but nothing was going to cure me except Sam's hard body in my arms.

Carlos taped the shit out of my ribs and I took a couple Naproxen, which took care of the stabbing pains and left only the minor aches for me to contend with.

The actual jumping went better than I expected, given that I was only marginally with the program. Minx was back to her usual reliable self and came home 3rd. Kahn must have felt bad about last week because he was totally tuned into me and took me around the course fast and clean in both the GP and the jump-off. There was only one place in the jump-off course that I could cut a corner. It was really tight and I almost didn’t bother, but Kahn felt so good that I took the chance, giving him only two strides with a sharp angle to get over a wide oxer. He leapt like a rabbit, twisting in the air to make up for the weird approach, and pounded between the finish cones in record time. We wound up winning. Cas came in second.

Chloe was overjoyed at another win and I was pretty happy, too, when I wasn't thinking about whatever was the matter at home. I took it easy on the champagne this time, having one glass with Chloe, Cas, and Carlos. Then I switched to water. Sam called that night, full of congratulations, sweet talking me a little, and he almost seemed like the man I loved again.

The flight home Monday was smooth, and soon I was pulling into our driveway. Sam's car was there and as I opened the trunk to get my bag, he stepped out onto the porch.

I did a double take; his face was lined and gray like he'd been sick for a month. I just stood there by the back of the car staring at him as he came to me.

"Jesus, Sam, what's wrong?"

He gave a shrug. "I can't sleep for shit when you're not here. I miss you too much."

He stepped close and I wrapped my arms around him. He seemed thinner to me now as I hugged him tight, wishing with everything I had, that we could roll back time to the day he was attacked.

I’d have left work earlier that day, or called him to come take me to dinner; anything to keep him out of the house that evening, but I couldn't do that, so I concentrated on comforting him because it made me feel better too, and we both desperately needed some comforting right now.

He had one bad dream that week, but rolled over on his own and went back to sleep.

He cheered up a little with me home and we flew off to Pennsylvania on October 12th in hopes of having a nice long weekend away from our troubles. We hooked up with Cas Friday night after yet another party, and the three of us ended up going to Cas’s room. Sam wanted to be fucked; I could tell by the way he rubbed his ass against me as we were getting undressed, but that was something we'd done only in private, so I wasn't sure how he wanted to play this.

Once we were naked, I dropped to my knees in front of them, taking one cock in my mouth and the other in my hand. Once I'd gotten them both slippery with my mouth, I could stroke one while blowing the other. Going back and forth was interesting. I must have gotten it right because soon Sam was pumping into me and moaning. Cas finally dragged me up by the ears and pulled me back onto the bed with him, rolling so that I landed on the bottom. He turned around and planted his ass over my face while Sam straddled my legs, sucking my dick up in one big slurp. I licked Cas's balls and worked my tongue into his hole while he helpfully held my dick upright for Sam to suck.

Before long, Sam had me rigidly hard and I felt him move into position over my cock. I had my hands full of Cas, moaning into his ass while I slid slowly into Sam. He was on his feet, knees bent in a deep squat, holding onto Cas's shoulders as he lowered himself. In all our years together, we’d never done it this way and I was amazed at how different it felt. Cas moved back on me a little, bending over to take Sam's cock in his mouth and aiming his at me.

All our dicks were happy with this arrangement and we gradually built up to three first class orgasms. Cas lifted out of my mouth and came on my chest, then Sam shot onto my belly, and finally I pushed Sam off and blasted my load into the middle of it all. Satiated, we hopped in the shower, and climbed back into bed. I made sure I was in the middle so that if Sam had a bad dream, I could sooth him out of it before Cas woke up.

I hadn't talked to anyone about our problems yet and I was sure Sam hadn't. I was still foolishly hoping things would smooth out on their own.

Sunday was clear and sunny with a huge noisy crowd in the stands. I packed Kahn's ears so full of cotton that he probably wouldn't be able to hear me either, but I didn't want him distracted by all those people. Kahn went before Minx this time and he gave me a good ride, making it into the jump-off. Minx got four faults when she took down the top brick on a solid vertical. Aside from Kahn, only Cas's horse went clean, so Kahn was assured of at least 2nd. The jump-off course had two places to shave off time, but they were pretty obvious and Cas took advantage of both of them, coming in with a really quick time. Kahn and I gave it hell, but Cas was a couple ticks of the clock quicker and we ended up taking 2nd with Minx 4th.

With two events left, the points race was heating up. Cas was leading with me in 2nd on Kahn and, on Minx, a respectable 4th. I still had a mathematical chance of winning the whole thing, but Cas had a good horse this year and he was a strong rider, so I’d have to be lucky as well as good to beat him. The three of us flew home together, snuggling up on Chloe's little jet to nap off the late night we spent celebrating with her, Cas's owner, and all their rich, crazy pals.

Life was fairly normal after we got back, but Sam continued to sleep restlessly.

One moonlit night he was more agitated than usual and I lay there listening to him moan and mutter before propping myself up on an elbow to reach for him. He came up swinging, the knuckles of his right hand catching me in the mouth, splitting my bottom lip open and spraying blood across the sheets. A second later, his left fist crashed into the side of my face and I saw stars. I rolled away from him and off the bed, scooting backward on my butt, holding one hand to my gushing lip. He awoke with a start and looked down at me. He knelt there for a moment, breathing harshly, then crawled off the bed and came toward me with an outstretched hand.

God forgive me, I flinched away from him. I knew he hadn't hit me on purpose, but I was shaking with reaction and I just did it without thinking. He moaned then, the low awful sound of a wounded animal, and ran from the room.

I grabbed the box of tissues off the bedside table and mopped up my face a little, waiting 'til I quit shaking so badly and could think. Finally, I walked carefully downstairs to the kitchen, not looking for him, not seeing him anywhere. I put some ice in a baggie, wrapped a towel around it and slumped into a chair, holding it to my throbbing face. I don't know how long I sat there, but the sky was beginning to lighten when I turned to see him watching me from the doorway to the hall. The misery on his face hurt me worse than his fists had; I laid the ice on the table and crossed the room into his open arms. He folded me gently to him, one hand on the back of my neck, and rocked me silently as the kitchen brightened into a new day.

He walked us to the patio doors and took a careful look at my face in the light, something I hadn't done yet. His jaw muscles clenched tightly, but that was his only reaction. He led me to the den and we lay on the couch for a long time, curled together but not talking. I was scared to death by what was happening to us. The psychiatrist we'd spoken to a few times had felt that Sam would not have any lasting emotional issues, but it seemed as though he was wrong.

I got through the day, but barely. I went to work and spent most of the time in my office staring at the wall, wondering what the hell to do. My only real hope was the shrink, but I didn't have a whole lot of faith in him at this point. When I walked in the back door that evening, Sam was sitting at the kitchen table waiting for me.

"Dean, I need to talk to you."

Is there a sentence spoken between lovers more laden with foreboding than that one? One that makes your stomach flip over backward and brings a clammy sweat to your palms? It's never good, and tonight was no exception. He stood up and came to me, holding me by the shoulders, looking into my face with haunted eyes.

"I need to leave for a while. I have to get this behind me and I think maybe I can find him." He hugged me tight.

I started to shake and the knot that had been in my stomach for weeks clenched its fist tightly.

"Nooo," I moaned. "Don't go. Not now." I pulled back and looked at him, begging him with my eyes not to do this to us. "Don't leave me. Please."

He dropped his head, staring at my chest for a long moment, and then slowly raised his face to mine.

"I have to. I'm not gonna take the chance of hurting you again."

"You're hurting me now." He looked away. It was a cruel thing to say, but I was falling apart inside, willing to try anything to keep him with me.

"I'll call you every night." He paused, steadying his voice. "I love you and I'll be back. I promise you, I'll be back, Dean."

He pushed me gently away and I followed him to the front hall where he had a bag packed and waiting. He kissed me gently and walked out the door, pulling it quietly shut behind him. I pressed my forehead to the hard wood, leaning on my spread hands and listened to the sound of Sam's car fade away.

Then I walked carefully upstairs, buried my face in his shirt from yesterday, and curled up on his side of the bed, too numb to cry.

After an hour I got up long enough to call Jesse, then went back to bed and lay there wide awake all night, staring into the dark, empty corners of the room, which matched the feelings in my heart.

So began the most desolate time of my life. With Sam gone, the house was empty and so was I. He was everywhere I looked. His jewelry was on the dresser, a constant reminder that he wasn’t there to wear it. Maria cooked in the pans he'd brought with him when he moved in. I ate whatever she put in front of me and five minutes later couldn't have told you what it was. I lay alone on the couch where we'd spent so much time loving each other. I wore his clothes, and thought of him day and night.

It was better at work because there was enough to do that I could go for an entire hour without thinking about him, wondering where he was, if he was okay. I knew he hadn't gone back to his apartment above the restaurant because I drove by there the first few days and never saw the BMW.

As much as I wanted to, I avoided calling Jesse for updates. As much as I wanted Rand obliterated from Sam's mind, I knew it was something that only Sam could do for himself. As much as I wanted to rip Rand’s ass from stem to stern for what he’d done to Sam and me, I knew I couldn’t be the hero in this mess. As much as I wanted anything, I wanted Sam to come home happy, loving, and healthy.

I took to staying at work late into the evening, checking on the horses, polishing saddles, straightening up the tack rooms; mindless stuff that I could do while letting every memory I had of the two of us run through my head. The one I kept coming back to was the night we met eight years ago.

+-+-+

It had started innocently enough in late August as an evening with Adam and a couple of his buddies from law school. I had just won another Gran Prix and felt like celebrating so I'd made reservations at a nice Italian place called Stiva's. We'd eaten there when I was a kid, but I didn't remember it. I'd heard it was good, owned by the same family for 50 years or something.

We arrived and I gave my name to the maitre d'. He ran his finger down the long list, then looked up at me with faint disapproval on his face. "I'm afraid you must be mistaken, sir. We have no reservation for Winchester."

"I called three days ago and spoke to a woman. Check again, please." He zipped down the list in record time, raised cool eyes to me, and shook his head. I looked at him for a moment.

"Get the manager, please." I gave him as steely a stare as a 22-year-old can manage, and after a moment, he turned on his heel, threaded his way through the tables and disappeared into the kitchen. A moment later, a man in chef's whites came striding through the restaurant and stopped in front of me. He was tall, dark and handsome.

"Good evening. I'm Samuel Stivaletti. I'm very sorry your reservation was misplaced but we're completely booked for this evening. May we reserve a table you for another night?"

I eyed him for a moment. "But we're here now, aren't we?"

"And I can't materialize a free table out of thin air." He stopped for a moment, reining in his impatience. "Please choose another evening and it will be on the house. Once again, I apologize for the error."

He held out his hand to me and I shook it, feeling the hard warmth of his palm against mine. I glanced up to see him looking at me intently. Adam and the other guys had turned away and were heading for the door. I pulled my hand free and followed them, and as I stepped outside, I looked back for a second; he was staring at me as the door closed between us.

We got into the car and were almost out of the parking lot when I shoved my door open and hopped out. I looked at Adam.

"I've gotta go back. I have to talk to him again. Go on, I'll see you later."

I slammed the door and walked away before they could object. I reached the restaurant door just as they drove away, so I sat down on a bench outside and thought for a bit. This wasn't me. Usually, when I saw a guy who interested me, by the time I glanced at him a second time, he was already approaching me. I simply had no experience in picking someone up, but I knew I needed to see him again.

I went inside and took a deep breath before walking up to the maitre d'.

"Please get Samuel for me. I need to speak with him for a moment." He treated me to a grim look. "Please." I gave him as non-threatening an expression as I could before he stalked off. I wandered nervously over to the wall and began looking at the various framed newspaper reviews all proclaiming Stiva's as the place to eat.

He came around the corner quickly and stopped a few feet away, raising an expressive eyebrow inquiringly. I immediately forgot everything I had planned to say as I looked into those green, blue, gold eyes. He gazed steadily back at me, no help whatsoever.

"Can I . . . can I buy you a drink?" I stammered. God, could I get any more lame?

His other eyebrow rose to join the first. "In my own restaurant?"

He owned the place? Jesus, he didn't look older than me. I blew out a breath and gave up; I was obviously no good at this. I raised a hand in a gesture of surrender and turned away from him, but I didn't get far. He grabbed my hand out of the air and pulled it to his chest, bringing me with it. I came to a stop about a foot from his face.

"Save your money. I'll buy you one." He spoke softly, his voice deep, and then towed me back through the kitchen door. Just inside he turned to me, put a spread hand on my chest and pushed me gently back onto a tall wooden stool. "Don't move." I settled back against the cool white tile wall and hooked my heels over the rungs, the imprint of his hand warm on my chest.

As he walked away, he snapped out some Italian to one of the guys making salads at the long stainless table to my right and in a moment I had a glass of red wine, a basket of bread, and a little plate of olives, meats and cheeses they used on the antipasto salads. The guy who brought me the food was as good looking as Samuel. He stuck out a hand and gave me a big white smile.

"Vincent, Sam's cousin." I thanked him, then settled down to nibble and watch Sam. I had never been in the kitchen of a large busy restaurant and it was impressive. There were at least twenty people cooking, stirring, serving, and swearing. Sam stood at a huge stove, three or four pans going at once, flames leaping up, handing out orders left and right to the scurrying help.

Things slowed a little at one point and he walked over to me, stepping just into the V of my spread knees. He swiped an olive from my plate and slid it into his mouth, chewing slowly as he looked me over. I was holding a piece of bread in one hand; he gripped my wrist, bringing the bread to his mouth and took a big bite, washing it down with a sip of my wine, never taking his eyes off mine. I had the glass sitting on the seat of the stool between my legs and when he reached for the stem, the back of his hand brushed the fabric of my crotch. I flinched a little and he gave me a steamy look before carefully replacing the glass without touching me.

He walked away and I closed my eyes for a second, willing my cock to settle down, but it wasn't listening and continued to thicken despite my best efforts at thinking of everything but the feel of Sam's knuckles on my balls. I wiggled around for a minute, but finally had to stand up and make an adjustment as casually as I could.

Sam chose that moment to glance at me and his gaze dropped to my hand as I straightened out my stiff cock. The muscles of his jaw tightened and he lifted his eyes to mine, his expression unreadable. After another half hour, during which my dick leaked through my pants, requiring me to keep a napkin draped across my lap, he handed off the stove to another guy, and came over to me.

He stood between my knees again, a little closer than last time, and spoke quietly. "I live upstairs."

I looked up at him and nodded, not trusting myself to speak. We walked back through the kitchen, out a door, then turned and went up a flight of stairs. He stood aside after he opened the door and let me pass through ahead of him. It was a charming apartment, full of old family furniture, homey and comfortable. I turned slowly in a circle, a smile spreading over my face.

"This is great," I said, turning toward him. While I'd been circling, he had come up behind me and I turned right into his arms. He held me loosely, his hands clasped in the small of my back. I gripped his upper arms and leaned back slightly to look at him, a little nervous now that I was actually alone with him. He was an inch or two taller than me, which I liked. He studied my face for several moments, stopped at my mouth briefly, then came back to my eyes.

"Kiss me, Dean." he said softly.

I licked my lips and swallowed, then tilted my face up to his and kissed him with my mouth closed. He opened his eyes when I pulled back, touching his tongue to the middle of his lower lip, then leaned forward and kissed my jaw, then the little hollow behind my ear, then my neck. My eyes dropped shut and I moaned softly. He wrapped one arm around my shoulders and tightened the other at my hips, pulling me close against him. Taking advantage of my open-mouthed moan, he kissed me, exploring my mouth thoroughly while I hung in his arms. He kissed better than any man I'd ever been with, slow and thoughtful, gentle but insistent, and I could feel the promise of his teeth behind the soft pressure of his lips.

When he broke the kiss and pulled back to look at me, I was totally out of it and he chuckled softly, pushing me onto the couch. He dropped to his knees between my legs and began to unbutton my shirt, taking his time and kissing every new bit of exposed skin.

By the time he got to my belt, I was breathing hard and reaching for him, but he pushed me back and proceeded to slowly strip me naked. When he had me laying there with my iron hard dick throbbing in the breeze, he stood and raked his eyes up and down me very slowly, smiling slightly, then undressed and lowered himself onto me.

As his erect penis touched mine for the first time, I began to climax in big gasping spasms that jerked my body underneath him. He groaned deeply and held me tight, thrusting several times into the warm slickness between us before grunting his way through a hard orgasm, adding his load to mine.

He lowered his forehead to my shoulder and nuzzled into my neck, getting his breath back. It had felt wonderful but I was mortified. God, I had cum like a horny teenager, shooting before we even got started. When I tried to roll away from him, he realized something was wrong and grabbed my jaw in firm fingers, forcing my face to him.

I clamped my eyes shut, too embarrassed to look at him. Sam was silent for a moment, and then chuckled again, making me feel stupider than ever.

"Open your eyes." I shook my head and he laughed aloud. "Dean. Look at me, please." I just lay there. "That's the biggest compliment anyone has ever given me." I cracked one eye open; he was smiling warmly at me from about four inches away.

"Was I that good?" he asked with a grin. I opened the other eye and nodded, starting to smile a little. He cracked up and kissed me, sobering as he did, until we were locked together again.

He bit my bottom lip gently before backing off. "Do you have any idea how fuckin' hot that was? No one's ever responded to me like that. And I couldn't wait either, not once you shot." He slid off and took me by the hand, not letting go until we were in the shower together, hot water cascading over us as we soaped each other. He dried me off, making a production out of it, and we lay down on his big bed on our sides, facing each other, knees bumping.

"You okay?" he asked me, running a hand over my short damp hair.

I nodded. "I don't usually do that," I muttered. "But watching you in the kitchen, the way you kissed me, then when you undressed me on the couch; it all just built up, I guess. I almost came in the kitchen when you picked up my wine glass."

"Yeah, sorry about that. I really didn't mean to touch you; just one of those happy accidents." He chuckled again. "The look on your face . . . "

"Yes, I'm sure it was priceless," I muttered, my dignity still smarting from my lack of control on the couch.

Fields of Gold Part Five Continued