justinedelarge | Sure Got a Dirty Mouth Chapter 29: It's Time, Baby Boy

Title: Sure Got a Dirty Mouth Chapter 29: It's Time, Baby Boy

Author: justinedelarge
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing(s): Sam/Dean
Rating: R
Warning: Wincest (Sam is a few months shy of legal age)
Word Count: 2275
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: Sam and Dean perform the ritual that binds the knives to them, and themselves to each other.

Here is a YouTube playlist I put together for this scene and the companion chapter, B Side. Take the first video of the rain sounds and have it playing in its own window. Then play the other songs in a new window or tab, so the music plays over the sound of the rain.

http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLbrO9mACDilTqtO7bKkuXN7lWeGIQeDOX

Art by Vongue on deviantart

Please note, this art was NOT drawn for this story, but was done by request by Vongue for someone else. I asked if she would do a custom piece of art for this chapter, but she is far too busy and had to decline. She let me attach it here because I felt it was so close to what I wanted, and really shows the heart of this scene.

Dean turned the object in his hands over and over. Then he set it on the bedside table. And picked it up again, compulsively flipping it again.

Sam appeared in the doorway, done with whatever he needed to do to get ready. He looked around the room, stunned.

On every available surface, shelf and nook was a lit candle. Dean had ransacked the house and found every candle Bobby had that wasn’t special purpose: white votives, ruby tapers melted down to mere nubs, candles in glass cylinders with Mexican saints depicted on the outside, oil candles, he’d taken them all.

The room was transformed, light dancing on the oak paneling, painting the wood with a burnished, caramel glow.

“Dean. You… wow.”

Dean stood by the bed, looking as nervous as a senior on prom night the moment he first sees his date. “I’d have totally done the rose petal thing but, you know. Wrong time of year. And I couldn’t exactly get to a flower store.” Dean was babbling, and he knew it, but he couldn’t stop.

Sam’s face lit up with surprise. “You’re nervous.”

Dean blushed.

“You’re actually nervous. You.” Sam walked a few steps into the room.

“Oh, and what—you’re not?”

“A little.”

Dean breathed out, relieved it wasn’t just him.

Sam placed his hand on Dean’s. “What’s that?”

Dean let Sam take the object. “A mix tape? You made a mix tape?”

“Uh… yeah.”

“For… for this?” Sam waved his hand, indicating the room.

Dean swallowed. “For your first time.”

“When did you… I mean, you didn’t do it today.”

Dean rubbed his lips together. “Been working on it for a while.”

Sam spoke in a near whisper. “How long?”

“About a year.”

A half-second later, Dean had a baby moose all over him, all long arms and legs. Sam kissed him hard, messy and eager.

“Guess you like it.”

Sam nuzzled his baby moose snout into Dean’s neck. “You’re a romantic.”

“Shut up.”

“I totally won’t tell.”

“Better not.” Dean made his bad-ass face, but secretly, he was giddy at Sam’s reaction.

“Let’s hear it then.” Sam nodded to the tape player.

Dean put the tape in the player, and paused. “Hope you don’t think it’s too cheesy.” He’d already checked the volume to make sure it was just right, not too loud but audible over the sound of the rain.

The sounds of an acoustic guitar came from the speakers.

It is the springtime of my loving, the second season I am to know

Sam just smiled, came to Dean, raised his arms around his neck and kissed him, mouth tasting of peppermint, lips so soft.

Dean had kissed Sam hundreds of times. But this felt like the first time. The first time he’d felt Sam yield to him, let his tongue inside his parted lips. The first time he heard Sam make that soft little sigh and press himself closer. The first time he wrapped his hand in Sam’s hair, the lush locks smooth in his fingers.

Dean’s hands shook.

Sam stepped back, leading Dean toward the bed. Dean allowed himself to be led.

Sam crawled up on the bed and settled on his back. He looked up at Dean, standing at the foot of the bed, and extended his hand. “Dean.”

Dean took Sam’s hand and came to him, laying next to him. He stroked Sam’s cheek. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but no words came.

No words at all.

Sam closed his eyes at the feel of Dean’s fingers on his face. When he opened them again, his pupils were huge and dark.

“Dean. Please.”

Fingers curled in Dean’s shirt, tugging. Dean pulled it off over his head, feeling the air on his naked skin, feeling Sam’s eyes on him, feeling so seen.

Feeling so loved.

Sam traced his fingertips over Dean’s bare skin. His hands were shaking too.

But I know that I love you so

Dean removed Sam’s shirt. Smiled at him gently, his hands on the waistband of Sam’s pajamas.

Sam raised his hips, let Dean pull the fabric down.

Dean looked at Sam, naked and stretched out. The candles poured honeyed light over his skin, playing across the sleek muscles.

Dean pressed his mouth to Sam’s bare stomach, murmured words Sam did not have to hear to understand.

This is the wonder of devotion

Lips parted, moist breath exhaled over Sam’s skin. “So soft,” Dean whispered. He kissed him softly, so softly, like dandelion puffs drifting in the breeze.

He moved lower, breathing out over Sam’s cock, already ready for Dean. Always ready for Dean.

Sam moaned as Dean stroked his cock with his fingers.

Dean pressed soft kisses down the length of his shaft, and moved lower.

Sam gasped, and parted his thighs.

The strains of bluesy electric guitar and a simple drum rhythm. A gentle, sensual keyboard line.

Working seven to eleven every night

Dean settled in between Sam’s legs, moved his tongue lower, swiping across his tight rim.

Sam trembled, opening to Dean.

His tongue, so clever and needy, twined over and around, lapped and stroked and teased out moan after moan.

cause I love you, baby

How I love you, darling

How I love you, baby

Sam arched his back, tossed his head, stretched his legs wide open, giving himself over to Dean completely.

Dean pulled back, panting, peeled off his pants and took up the bottle of lube he’d bought a long time ago, just for this very night.

At the sight of him coating his fingers, Sam gave a small sob.

Dean slid up next to Sam, kissed him slow and deep.

He dropped his hand between Sam’s legs, ran the tip of his index finger in a tight circle around Sam’s rim.

Sam clutched at Dean’s shoulders and arched down, taking his finger inside.

Dean moaned. Sam was already yielding, more open than he expected. He slipped a second finger in. And Sam took it beautifully, shaking with pleasure, lips pressed against Dean’s, drawing Dean’s tongue into his mouth.

Dean worked his fingers slowly, thumb pressed to his perineum. Sam sucked on Dean’s tongue like it was his cock, eliciting a gasp from Dean.

“Easy, Sam. Got all day.”

“Can’t wait anymore. Need you.” Sam moved his hand between his legs, took Dean’s hand, guided his two fingers out and pressed three fingers together, urging him. “Please.”

Dean bit Sam’s shoulder, overcome by the intensity of desire.

He pressed gently, and Sam opened to him, took all three fingers in a long, slow slide all the way to the base.

“Fuck. Sammy.” Dean kissed and bit at Sam’s throat. Sam writhed, rocking himself on Dean’s fingers, almost crying with need. He worked Sam open, but Sam hardly needed the preparation. His body just opened to Dean like it was born for this.

“Now. Dean. Please. Now. God, please.”

“Ok, Sammy.” Sam’s eyes flew open. His gaze locked onto Dean’s.

“It’s time, baby boy.”

The sound of the rain was heavier now, fat drops striking the roof harder. Dean straddled Sam, and reached over to the end table where the knives were laid out.

He pressed one into Sam’s hand, guided the tip to the spot at the base of this throat. His green eyes were dark. He wrapped his hand around Sam’s wrist, pressed gently, bared his throat to Sam.

Sam picked up the other knife, gave it to Dean, brought the tip to the same hollow at the base of his throat.

Neither of them moved for a moment, eyes locked onto each other, naked in the flickering candlelight, twin blades at each other’s throats. Then as one, they pressed sharp steel into vulnerable flesh and drew the knives downward.

A thin line of red welled up on their chests.

Without saying a word, without having planned a second of this in advance, both knew what to do next. They turned their blades flat, smoothed them over the trickle of blood on their own chests, mingling the other’s blood with their own.

Perhaps it was their imagination, but the blades seemed to drink in the blood. Perhaps it was a trick of the light that the gemstone handles gleamed, new darker ruby highlights within.

Sam set the knives on the table quickly, and Dean lowered himself to Sam, kissing him like it was the last chance he’d ever have. Their blood mingled, smearing over their bare chests.

The tape kept playing.

If it keeps on raining levee's going to break

When the levee breaks have no place to stay

Dean moved between Sam’s legs, and cupped Sam’s face in his hand.

He slicked up his hand again and smoothed his fingers over his cock, achingly hard and eager.

He positioned himself between Sam’s legs again. They both were shaking so hard that Dean gave a little laugh.

Sam looked up at Dean, his face bright with so much love and desire that Dean couldn’t bear it, had to drop his head to Sam’s shoulder, tears falling hot on Sam’s skin.

“I love you so much.” Sam spread his thighs wider.

“I love you too.” Dean took a deep breath and pressed the head of his cock against Sam. The feel of it barely breaching the outer rim made him shudder.

He held himself there, letting Sam just feel it, relax into it.

Sam moaned. His rim fluttered, yielded, and pulled Dean inside.

Sam made a soft sound of awe, and stared up at Dean. The expression on his face was pure wonder, like a kid the first time he sees fireworks or tastes chocolate cake.

Dean pressed a little further and held himself there. He wasn’t pushing his way in. He waited until Sam’s body was ready, and invited him.

Sam’s breath was rapid, his face flushed. “Oh god. Oh god.” He pressed his hips up, taking Dean a little deeper.

“You ok? This ok?” Dean examined Sam’s face for signs of distress.

All he saw was pleasure so keen it looked like Sam was going to fall apart.

“Dean. Oh god. Dean.” Sam lifted his hips higher and the entire head of Dean’s cock penetrated him, past the second ring of muscle. Sam trembled, back arched, breath coming faster.

Dean bit his lip, trying desperately not to come.

“More. Please.”

Dean pulled his hips back, and moved forward, going deeper. Sam grabbed Dean’s ass, body sheened with sweat, spread his legs wider and pushed.

Dean slid all the way inside. All the way inside Sam. So tight and yet so yielding, surrounding him, so hot jesus like a furnace Sam always did run hot but Christ this was unreal…

Sam burst into tears.

“Am I hurting you?” Dean started to pull out, but Sam held on with a death grip.

“Perfect. It’s perfect.” Sam’s voice was choked with tears. He took Dean’s head in his hands and kissed him, sobbing into his mouth.

They stayed like that for a long moment, just letting themselves feel it, feel how they were joined.

Finally, Dean pulled out slightly and moved back in. Sam’s sobs were interrupted by a gasp of pleasure. He dropped his right hand to Dean’s back, letting his broken arm rest on the bed.

Dean did it again, moving out farther, sliding all the way back in.

Sam made a choked sound.

“Please. Oh god please.”

Dean wrapped his arms around Sam, holding him so tight, like he was trying to fuse them into one single being, and gave Sam what he wanted.

He moved inside him deep and slow, rocking into him, sucking the salt from Sam’s throat, kissing the tears of joy from his face, driving the most astonishing range of sounds out of Sam: sounds of pleasure so keen it was shocking, shivery moans that conveyed achingly sincere love, low bossy sounds demanding more, pure joy when he got it.

“Sammy. Not gonna last.”

Being inside Sam. Being inside Sam. His Sammy. Giving him everything, falling apart beneath him with the pleasure of it. It was too much.

Sam wrapped his arms around Dean, mouth open, cheeks bright red and took everything Dean gave him, wordlessly pleading for more. Their mingled blood smeared across their chests, both faces wet with tears, Dean pulled his hips back and drove into Sam hard, punching fierce cries out of him, twin cries echoed from his own throat.

“Sam Sam oh god Sammy…”

And the very second the pleasure shattered Dean, turning him into sparking nerve endings, sending every drop of fluid in his body out the end of his cock and deep inside Sam, that very second Sam lost it, cries cresting into a scream, spurting hot and wet all over Dean’s belly, muscles fluttering and clenching so tight that Dean’s orgasm amplified and flung itself off the cliff into holy shit what the fuck is this can people die from coming this hard fuck yeah they can oh my fucking GOD

And then words disappeared.

The very concept of spoken language vanished.

There was only Sam and Dean, not knowing where one ended and the other began, the tremors running through them rattling the bed so hard a wooden slat snapped in two, coming so hard, so pure, so inexpressibly beautifully that the angels themselves stared in wonder.

So perfectly that God wept with delight.

Only Sam and Dean and the sound of the rain, two souls willingly bound for eternity.