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justinedelargeAuthor: ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif){kind=small}
justinedelarge
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing(s): Sam/Dean
Rating: R
Warning: Wincest (Sam is a few months shy of legal age)
Word Count: 2505
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Just for fun.
Summary: Ever wonder how Dean started talking dirty? The genesis is in the way Sam and Dean make their feelings for each other physical. This story has dirty talk, all the feels you can handle, infinite love and even a plot that develops into a nail-biting narrative, with the best kind of hurt/comfort.
Chapter Summary: A stranger comes to call.
This speedy update was commissioned by a very kind and generous fan of my writing!
A tap at the bedroom door. “You boys might wanna come down. Someone’s here to see you.”
Sam raised his head from Dean’s chest, the two twined together naked under the flannel sheets and thick comforter. They exchanged a confused look. They hadn’t been there long enough to get to know anyone.
Dean helped Sam dress. Although he was breathing much better, he was still very sore and stiff, his bruises doing the ghastly progression of color from Battered Red to Three-Weeks’-Dead Green. His skin looked worse, not better.
Sam let Dean button up his flannel overshirt with a tiny smile on his face.
“Getting to like this, aren’t you.” Dean buttoned the third button from the top and stopped there.
Sam extended his arms for Dean to button the sleeves, grinning.
Dean buttoned them up. “When you’re better, dude. Gonna be you waiting on me hand and foot.”
Sam’s face pinked up. His expression sent a shiver through Dean.
“You like that?”
Sam made a little sound.
Suddenly, Dean felt very warm, despite the late November chill. He stepped closer to Sam, not actually touching him, feeling the pull between them like a physical force. “Yeah, you do. That how you’re gonna thank me for taking such good care of you, Sammy?” Dean could have touched Sam with his hands. But he’d gotten addicted to doing it with his voice, watching the desire flicker across Sam’s face. “Strip down, get on your hands and knees for me? Do whatever I want?”
Sam’s eyes were huge. Dean could see his pulse racing, twitching that vein in his neck.
“Can’t even talk. Shit, you DO like that.”
Sam swallowed hard. “I like everything with you.”
“Yeah, but you really, really like that idea.” Dean palmed Sam’s cock. “Knew it. It just kills me, how quick you get hard for me.”
Sam closed his eyes, fighting to keep himself under control. “Dean. They’re waiting.”
As if on cue, John’s voice rose from downstairs. “Boys! Hurry up.”
Dean stroked Sam’s cock again, finding it hard to pull his hand away. “I just… fuck. Goddamn it.”
The frustration in his voice made Sam smile. “This probably won’t take long.”
Dean practically stalked downstairs, hackles raised like a peevish dog.
A man he’d never seen before stood in the living room, talking with John and Bobby. Sam came up behind him.
John introduced them. “This is Reggie Beaumont.”
Dean extended his hand. “I’m Dean. And I’ve heard of you.” Dean couldn’t hide a note of hero worship in his voice. Reggie Beaumont was perhaps the most legendary living hunter in America. A lethal shot with an eagle eye, skilled knife-maker, dogged and determined, smart as hell and if the tales were true, possessed of uncommon bravery.
“Everyone’s heard of you.” Sam stuck his hand out. “Sam.”
Reggie was in his sixties, with a full head of messy, grey-white hair shot through with a few strands of black, dark bushy eyebrows, a thick white moustache that covered his upper lip, and vivid blue eyes. He chewed on a toothpick. “Well, everyone’s heard of you now, and that’s a fact.”
“What?”
“C’mon, what say we sit down? Look like you’re still tender, Sam.”
Sam gratefully accepted the offer, sitting on the couch so Dean could sit next to him, instead of in what had temporarily become Sam’s recliner.
Bobby brought out a bottle. “Too early for whiskey?”
Reggie just laughed.
“Yeah. Didn’t think so.”
Bobby set out five tumblers.
Sam and Dean exchanged a glance.
Bobby splashed whiskey into each glass, and distributed them. He didn’t even try to meet Dean’s gaze. He did look at Sam briefly, but his face fell and he averted his eyes.
“Reggie came here just to see you two boys.” John took a swallow of whiskey. He too found it difficult to look Dean in the face.
Dean did his level best to keep his feelings secured, and not let them burn through the veneer of polite sociability. Just the sight of Sam’s swollen eye and jaw, and bruised face, reminded him of what John and Bobby had done, and how that had spilled over onto his innocent baby brother.
He stretched his arm over the back of the sofa, not touching Sam, but shielding him.
“Why did you want to see us?” Sam held his tumbler, but did not drink.
“When I heard about what happened, what you two boys did… well, I had to come.”
Dean cocked his head questioningly.
“Word’s gotten round, see. About how you two handled your business. You, Sam. How you kept your head and figured out where they took you. How you signaled your family while they were torturing you. How you kept your cool and took what happened to you like a man. About how you didn’t beg.”
Sam straightened up, as though the words were being pumped through him.
“Most men couldn’t have done that. Not even most hunters. What you did, Sam…” Reggie paused, worrying the toothpick in his mouth. “It was extraordinary.”
Dean let his arm settle onto Sam’s shoulders.
“I just… I just did what I had to do. What Dean would have done.”
Dean squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head away, unable to hide the emotion on his face, not wanting the men to see. He blew a breath out. “Sam. I couldn’t have done that.”
“And what you did, Dean. That was… unheard of for a hunter your age. Hell, unheard of for most hunters, period.”
Dean held his head up and met Reggie’s gaze like a man, but his face broke into the smile of a little boy unwrapping his first BB gun under the Christmas tree.
“Your father and Bobby, there aren’t many finer hunters on the planet than these two. And those things got the jump on them. But you took them all out. You were smart, and brave, and damn lethal with a blade. But it was more than that. You showed your character. Both of you.”
Dean held his whiskey, trying not to let his hand shake.
Reggie took a deep swallow of whiskey, rolling it in his mouth and swallowing with a sigh. Then he set the glass down. “I never had kids. Starting hunting early on, and I couldn’t have that kind of life. But if I had…” Reggie blinked a few times and rubbed his nose. “If I had, I’d have been the proudest father in the world if my sons were half the men you two are.”
Sam’s eyes welled with tears. Dean’s, too.
“You raised two fine sons, John. And Bobby, I know how much you helped with that. “ Bobby raised his head, surprised, an expression of gratitude on his face for that unexpected recognition.
“Anyway, I came here to meet you two in person, and have the pleasure of shaking your hand. And to give you something.”
Reggie rummaged in the army knapsack at his feet, and brought out two bundles wrapped in soft leather.
He handed one to each of them.
They unwrapped them. Inside the leather wrapping was a knife tucked inside a beautiful leather sheath, with long teardrops of blood-red material that looked like dragon scales, inlaid in a peacock-tail pattern in hand-carved leather.
They pulled their knives out. Each was a spear point steel blade flowing past a pointed quillon, meant to protect the hand from sliding down the blade, becoming the handle ornamented with a dark red gemstone grip, inscribed on either side with elaborate symbols, curving down and ending in a rear finger ring.
Etched into the flat of the blade was a phrase in Latin. “Fidus et audax.” Dean read it out loud.
“Faithful and brave.” Reggie and Sam spoke in unison. Reggie smiled at Sam.
Dean stared at the knife and sheath in his hands, holding the blade, turning it this way and that way in the light.
Sam stroked the sheath, barely touching it. “This is… I don’t even know what to say.”
Dean spoke without thinking. “It’s the second most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my whole life.”
The older men laughed.
“What’s the first?” Reggie grinned, his moustache twitching.
Sam looked at Dean curiously.
Dean blushed… and then blushed harder when he realized he was blushing in front of everyone. “Um… Ronda Hurley.”
“Figures.” Bobby snorted.
“Hey, he’s got his priorities perfectly straight. A beautiful knife ain’t as pretty as a beautiful girl.” Reggie finished his whiskey.
Sam looked up at Reggie, eyes bright. “You made these.”
“Yes I did. Made them for a pair of hunters a long time ago but they were killed before I finished. Kept them around. Figured someday I’d figure out who they were meant for. When I heard about you two, I knew.” Reggie drew his finger down the Latin inscription of Sam’s knife. “I put that on there special for you and Dean.”
Dean looked up. “Two matching knives. Were they brothers?”
Reggie’s smile reached all the way to their eyes. “No. They were together.”
“Together-together?” Sam’s leg moved almost imperceptibly until it touched Dean’s.
“Oh yes.” Reggie removed the toothpick from his mouth. “All my time on this earth, I’ve never seen two people love each other more than those two guys. They were each other’s soulmates, and that’s just a fact.”
“When two people really love each other, there’s not a damn thing wrong with it. No matter what some folks might think.” Bobby’s voice was quiet but firm. “You can’t help who you love.”
“No, you can’t.” John stared off into nothing, clearly caught in the memory of Mary that perpetually hung around him like fog.
“With your permission, John, I’d like to take your boys out for burgers. Spend a little time with them.”
John shook his head, rousing himself from his reverie. “Sure. But hey, while you’re here, could I pick your brain on something?” John opened a large vellum-bound book on the desk in the living room, and he and Bobby pointed out a series of symbols.
Dean leaned close to Sam, who was holding his knife, an expression of what could only be described as awe on his face.
“Awesome, huh.”
“Dean. This is… these are the nicest… Dean.” Sam couldn’t form coherent sentences.
“I know.”
Sam watched the men huddled around the table. “So, was Ronda Hurley really the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?” The corners of his eyes were tight, as was his mouth.
Dean leaned closer, whispered, “Don’t be jealous. I just said that for them. It’s you.”
Sam peered at Dean.
“The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen? It’s you. When you’re with me.”
Sam surreptitiously squeezed Dean’s hand, looked at him and blinked slowly in that way he had of saying “I love you” without speaking.
Suddenly, he closed his eyes tight, exhaling through his teeth.
“You hurting, Sammy? Shit. Past time for your pain pill.” Dean got up and brought back a glass of water and Sam’s meds. He’d waited too long, and now Sam was in pain.
He couldn’t stand Sam in pain. He had to do something until the pain pill kicked in.
Sam swallowed his pill.
John glanced over, saw Sam wincing. “Sam? You ok?”
“Just took it, Dad. I’ll be ok in a few.”
John turned back to the conversation.
Dean stood behind Sam, leaning over him on the couch, his mouth brushing Sam’s ear. “Can’t wait to get you alone, Sammy.”
Sam gasped, and craned his neck to stare up at Dean.
“They can’t hear me. Only you can hear me.” Dean’s voice came soft and low in Sam’s ear. “Hold up your knife. Pretend I’m talking to you about it.”
Sam turned back around, and held the knife up.
“So yeah. When I get you alone? Gonna get your clothes off, get you in that big recliner, get on my knees…”
Sam shivered, and coughed to camouflage it.
“…gonna lick all the way up the inside of your leg, real slow…” Dean’s eyes remained fixed on the men at the table, watching alertly. “…all the way up, almost there, then back down. Start again on the other leg. Watch your cock just twitch.”
Sam shifted in his seat.
“Getting hard again, huh? Doesn’t take much, does it, Sammy? Just the thought of me, huh?”
Sam nodded.
“Love how you go crazy for me, baby boy. Better than anyone. You know that?” Dean leaned a little closer. “You’re better than anyone I’ve ever been with.”
Sam shot Dean a look that defied description.
“And I’m gonna make you go crazy. But you’ll have to stay quiet. Because there are people in the house. Don’t want them to hear us, do you?” Dean watched John, Bobby and Reggie, alert for any shift in their focus. “Don’t want them to hear you begging me to put your dick in my mouth. Hear those pretty little sounds you make when I do. Hear how you sound when I lick you open, get my tongue all up inside you…”
Sam squirmed. “Dean. I can’t…”
“No. You can’t. Can’t do anything but listen to what I’m gonna do to you.” Dean’s voice was warm, sweet tea on a freezing cold day. It was butter melting over pancakes fresh off the griddle. It was like how whiskey was supposed to taste but didn’t. “And Sammy… I’m gonna do so many things to you.”
Sam’s knuckles were white on the grip of the knife.
“Lick you open, nice and slow. Get my fingers up inside you. Fuck, love doing that to you. Fingers inside you, mouth on your cock, the way you go crazy for it. So hungry for it. Need to hear you say please, Dean. Fuck. Love it when you say that. Please. Asking for it so sweet. Hear how much you need me. How much you love it.”
Sam started to tremble.
“Can’t wait to get that cock in my mouth and make you feel good, baby boy. I know you’re hurting. And I’m gonna make you feel so fucking good. I promise.” Dean bit his lip, working himself up to a heightened state just like he was doing to Sam. “Christ, Sam, ‘s all I want to do. Make you feel good. Make you come for me. Hold you. Do it all over again.”
“Dean…” Sam’s voice was soft, needy.
“Can’t wait ‘till you’re better, baby boy. Give you everything.”
Sam made a hoarse sound, and jumped to his feet, tugging the hem of his flannel down to hide the evidence of his physical reaction. “Hey, mind if we go eat now, and y’all can talk about that stuff after?”
“Absolutely. Pretty peckish myself.” Reggie stood up straight.
Dean stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Gotta take care of Sam. He’s really hungry.”
Sam looked over his shoulder at Dean. Only he could see Sam’s face, the soft, wet mouth and eyes wide with desire and love. “Yeah, better hurry up. I’m starving.”
