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Times were tough. Even the most godly and subservient people were called by devils into a life of crime, debauchery and sin. In times like these you did what you had to so to survive.
At least that is what Castiel told himself as he lay in wait. A tip off which cost him more than just money informed him of the crown prince’s royal party passing this way. Half had taken the kings road to the south, armed to the nines and full of sell swords. Crowley: ambassador and traitor had advised the beautiful young prince to take the forest roads. Unarmed, unprotected and his treasures stored safely under his carriage.
Here Cas waits in the dense trees, his mark slowly approaching him.
Two black horses pull the modest cart and only one driver sits up front. The driver is half asleep, not focused on the surrounding areas only the road home. Cas wonders if he has a sweetheart waiting in his bed.
The prince is rumoured to be beautiful. Stunning to look up on but like the sun look too long and you will go blind. He is a trained swordsman, fighting wars on his indignant fathers behalf. Crowley told Cas of the princes' night time visitors. Lords and ladies of every cast to kitchen hands and stable boys. It seems the prince is no stranger to the fairer sex or indeed to the rougher sex.
Crowley told him how the prince's lips stretches as naturally around a thick cock as they do a mother teat.
Brave and obedient he has been trained from birth to be the next king. His father sent him to war to enforce a bloodthirst the young prince once lacked.
Cas is curious to see this beauty for himself. A familiar thrill runs through him as the cart tumbles nearer. He waits, stalking his prey like a wild cat. His heart slows. Breathing shallow. Everyone knows the dangers of these roads, Cas isn't the only highwayman but tonight the road is strangely lonely.
The moon hangs high in the sky, bright on a cloudless night. The horses trot peacefully, bellies full to ensure a ride through the night. He catches the horses eye, staring her dead on. Before she can think to spook he pounces.
Cas leaps from the trees. Pistol drawn and face covered. His tight trousers flow into hand crafted leather boots. He steps gracefully out Of the way, here one second gone the next as he slits the drivers throat.
The prince is swift to investigate, sword drawn as he steps down from the carriage.
'What is going on?!' He grows. Cas looks at him for the first time, steady hand pointing a pistol to his pretty face. He is freckled, testament to a long year overseas. His eyes are a forest green, just as deep and mysterious as the forest behind them but a ghostly presence rests behind them. He is haunted, loss rests heavily on his shoulders. He wears what every other prince would be disgusted to be seen in. Causal brown and green clothes, the only clue to his real identity is the silver, emerald encrusted ring he wears. He is tall too, taller than Cas by a few inches. His height distracts from the lithe muscled frame. In a few years, Cas thinks the prince will fill out but now he reminds him achingly of the butcher's boy.
'Your Highness, I am robbing you. And by god it is my lucky day.' Cas steps forward, confidence rolling of him in waves. His face is obscured behind a thick black scarf. A feathered hat resting atop of his messy brown hair.
For a second the prince is stunned as their eyes meet. A wolf howls behind them, fresh on the trail of his feast. Cas tilts his head, looking deeper into the prince’s reaction.
He moves.
He is quicker, much quicker than Cas expected and he fights dirty too. The prince wraps his legs around Cas's waist pulling them to the ground. A started laugh slips from Cas’s lips. Fury and amusement rushes through him. They fight, biting, scratching and very few punches landing. Cas likes this prince, he is scrappy though after a while his hits become predictable.
Wrestling in the dust Cas loses his pistol. He hears it clatter distantly against the wooden wheel. The prince pants above him, in a different setting Cas would have him writhing too.
He smirks, sliding a hand under the prince’s thick thighs. Distractedly he wonders if the prince is freckled there too. In this position, plus the thrill of the chase Cas can't hide his reaction.
The prince gasps, torn between scandal and arousal. He rocks back against the bulge pressing tight to his ass. Cas groans, fingers tightening around his dagger. He flips it out, rolling them over hard. The prince hits the floor with a thud, his cock straining his breeches. Cas pins the prince’s hands above his head, watching the delightful stretch of his body. His other hand presses the danger to the prince's throat.
Cas smiles. 'Well well little prince it seems you aren't as stiff as I expected.' Cas giggles, snapping his hips.
'What do you want?!' The prince demands, struggling against Cas's grip. Blood pools under the dagger, the prince's Adam apple grazing the sharp blade.
'Everything.' Cas answers, looking down to the prince underneath him. Their eyes meet again. For a second Cas forgets how to breath as sparks fly behind his eyes.
'Everything?' The prince gasps, his voice raspy. He gulps, tongue licking slowly over his plump lips.
Cas drops the dagger, pulling his scarf down he traces the path of his tongue with his fingers. The dagger glints in the moonlight. The princes eyes hooded and nearly black as he watches Cas.
'Little prince, I want everything.' Cas whispers, leaning down, his lips grazing the prince's.
'Dean.' He whispers back, whine caught in the back of his throat. 'My name is Dean.'
'Dean, I want everything.' Cas repeats.
Dean presses their lips together in a dry kiss. He seems stunned for a moment before his eyes drift shut. His lips part, letting Cas's tongue slide into his mouth. Dean whimpers, rocking his hips unconsciously against Cas's ass. His hand flexes beneath Cas's thigh.
Cas never expected the prince to take the bait so the kiss comes as a surprise but with that first gentle touch Cas falls. He tucks the dagger away, cupping Dean’s face in his hands. Dean’s lips part underneath the pressure of his, an outstanding display of submission. Dean shakes under his, his hands flexing next to his thigh.
The kiss is perfectly dirty; a prince shouldn't know how to kiss like this. He moves his tongue in a perfect rhythm, matching Cas for every flick and twist. They dance together, Dean wiggling one arm free to trace down Cas's leg, cupping his calve. Cas holds his face, thumb rubbing small circles under his chin.
Dean moans hungrily into the kiss, rutting against Cas's ass. He can feel the hard swell of Dean’s cock nudging him, desperate for pressure, for touch.
Detaching their lips, Cas spreads his legs wider, shuffling down deans shapely thighs. It is dangerous to do this out in the open but moving means losing this contact. Cas takes his chances, pulling deans hard, leaking cock from his breeches. He unlaces his own breeches, tugging his cock from their tight confines.
Dean watches him, eyes wide as Cas lines up their hips. He grins, watching Dean just as intently. He squeezes his hand around Dean’s arms. Tugging his wrists so the prince stretches beneath him. Grinning wickedly Cas leans down, nibbling the sharp line of his freckled jaw. Fine, blonde hairs tickle his cheeks.
Young, the prince is young. As Cas looks at him he can see it now. In the next year or so the prince will be shown off like a prize pig. Paraded around others princesses and queens before he is taken. Cas thinks it is a mighty shame no one will see him like this, stretched out and beautiful with his hard cock dribbling over Cas's fist. This prince is made for show and Cas would like to take him and keep him close. His own prince to keep watch over his hard earned castle.
Cas grins, sliding his cock flush against Dean’s. He wraps a fist around them, jerking slowly at first. Dean’s eyes clench shut, bottom lip sucked between his teeth. He has the breath knocked out of him. Cas places a kiss to his chin, rearing up to watch the prince catch his breath. He jerks them slower. His hand dragging lazily over their combined length. Dean’s eyes flutter open on Cas's upstroke, fingers tracing a bulging vein.
Slotting their cocks together, Cas drops Dean’s arms for a moment. The prince’s hand joins Cas's before behind knocked away roughly, the jolt has them both moaning.
Dean touches him everywhere. He is like a man starved. Broken whimpers and half words fall from his lips. Cas wonders how long it has been since Dean had felt the touch of anyone without malice. War is a dark and desolate place. Comfort and passion must be hard to come by. Cas kisses him, sucking Dean’s bottom lip between his. He smiles against his mouth, thrusting hard enough to make Dean slip on the ground. Dean wraps one arm around Cas's neck and the other around his waist, clenching in the small of his back in time to his thrusts. His legs hook over Cas's calves, falling as he fucks into the tight tunnel he created.
He jerks Dean’s prick, flicking the head of his cock and feeling precome coat his fingers. He coats their cocks in Dean’s arousal, cupping them both once again, his palm cold from the short exposure to the night air.
Dean hisses, arching off the floor when Cas grips him tight with his cold fingers. He almost comes then but the short pinch to the base of his cock keeps his orgasm starved off for now.
They grind together. Cas wants to ruin the little prince, make him feel like no one else's touch will be as good as this moment is now. Under the moon and stars, hard gravel bruising his back, the prince will never forget the moment a highwayman robbed him of everything. He grabs Dean’s hand as they come to cup his face, forcing them back over his head. Dean’s tunic slips down, exposing his shoulder.
Freckles blind Cas but what he likes most is the outline of Dean’s perky nipple. Smiling deviously Cas takes the nub between his lips. Soaking the fabric he laps over the bud, the tunic clings to Dean’s chest and the prince cries out. Cock oozing more precome with every wicked trick Cas plays on him.
He bites Dean’s nipple, tugging hand so the prince has no choice to arch off the ground. Dean moans Pain but the hard jerk of his cock proves that he likes the roughness of Cas's mouth. Cas soothes over the bud, kissing and grazing his teeth over the pebbled nipple.
Cas squeezes his thighs together, pressing against deans hips as forcing him to move slightly. The new angle catches the rounded head of his cock with every stroke. Dean moans, crying out as Cas flicks the tip of his cock.
Dean moans unstoppably, head throw back and arms stretched his lips hand open. Cas thrusts his tongue into his mouth tasting Dean's moans. Cas finds different moans taste different.
Swirling the wet tips of his fingers around the red, dripping head of Dean’s cock makes him gasp a broken prayer. He tastes like roses and cinnamon. Short, teasing strokes followed by Cas's cock sliding next to his prick has Dean whimpering for more. The whimpers are sweet, the sound of a prince lost but so close to being found.
Cas's favourite are the deep, guttural moans Dean makes when he thumbs over the head of his cock. He collects pearling beads of precome while he thrusts in short jolts. His cockhead nudging Dean's prick with every twitch of his hips. Dean kisses him back then, his tongue flicking Cas's, lips wet and forgiving under his.
Cas kisses Dean. Biting his plump lips. He wishes he had a spare hand to fuck his fingers between those cock sucking lips. He regrets not talking the chance to have the prince take his cock into his mouth. Cas would have liked to have felt his lips stretched around his length, his thighs either side of Dean's cheeks. Rocking his hips into the tight heat of his fist, Cas vows, if given the chance he will have Dean in every which way. Starting with the young prince on his knees begging for his cock. Judging from the way he mewls underneath him now, Dean is a slut for a good cock.
Cas feels his orgasm creeping up on him, it has been a while since he was with someone who gave him what dean has. The prince clutches his tight, gasping into his ear with every thrust. His unashamed moans arousal Cas more than he ever thought possible. He is rock hard, leaking profusely over Dean's cock and balls. Precome dribbles over them soaking them both. His fingers tighten on Dean's wrist, pulling the prince taught. Cas moans at the intense pleasure written over Dean's face.
Dean comes first, biting Cas's shoulder as he humps him through his orgasm. Dean clings to him, legs shaking, hands clenching over Cas. He fights against the hold, desperate to touch Cas. The young prince moves as if he is trying to touch all of Cas. He mumbles words in what could be bible verse. Cas kisses him, silencing him and greedily taking those words for himself. He does not want anyone or anything listening to his prince.
Cas comes moments after, grunting as he releases messy and sticky over Dean's pudgy middle. He jerks their cocks, making Dean whimper and whine. It's too much for him, the friction from Cas's cock and the slick slide have him coming dry a second time. Dean cries out, sobbing pitifully. Cas kisses him, tender and loving, he strokes a hand through Dean’s hair, finally letting go of this wrists.
The afterglow is short and unsatisfying. Cas has no time to stop and kiss the prince’s lips like he wants to. He thinks, given the chance, given another life Cas would have been able to have the prince. If he were born into royalty, he would claim the prince for his own. Have him writhing under him every night, dressed in the finest silks and lace. He would have the time to kiss Dean after they have come and work him to full hardness as he took Cas into his body.
Cas pulls away after stealing one final kiss.
Dusting themselves off, Cas tucks himself back into his pants. Grinning as Dean flinches, cock oversensitve and the cool night air makes him long for the warmth of a fire. Cas strides towards the carriage, pulling out bags of gold and jewels, stripping the carriage of any valuables.
Dean watches, doing nothing to help but doing nothing to stop the highwayman. He watches the way tight muscle moves under tight breeches. He watches the way the moonlight catches the highwayman’s eyes and how he smiles giddily at the bags.
Dean watches as he turns to leave, scarf pulled over his mouth and hat placed on his head. He pulls the carriage door apart, taking the last bag of gold. 'Take me with you?' Dean ask, looking straight at Cas. He looks sad, sadder than he has any right to be after one quick encounter. 'Please.'
Dean offers up no explanation. He just holds tight to the last bag of gold. Cas studies him, head tilted once again. He is just a beautiful as before, even more so with kiss swollen lips and flushed cheeks. He is clever, quick and desperate, a perfect companion.
Cas nods.