Current mood:	hot
Entry tags:	dean/ofc, fic, spn fic

Fic: the butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker (SPN, NC-17, Het/Threesome) (1/3)
the butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker
a sex trilogy
Author: Regala Electra
Rating: NC-17 (Very Adult)
Warnings: Extremely Graphic Sex (so not kidding), Language
Spoilers: S2, All Hell Breaks Loose (for part 3)
Pairings: Dean/OFC, Sam/OFC, Dean/Sam/OFC
Word Count: 3,330
Summary: The butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker, watch how they notice, how they’ve been waiting, wanting, needing a touch of something edged in recklessness, promise of ephemeral and nothing more.
Author’s Notes: This is vinylroad’s fault. Oh, and this part is explicit Dean/OFC porn of an oral nature, um, which mainly entails oral sex and dirty talking.


Feedback is adored.


*


It’s not the nursery rhyme, no, nothing like that.

Instead it’s –

A freakin’ honest-to-god butcher (when she’s not busy in the back, she’ll relax outside the store, bloody apron on, Snapple in hand, salt packets in the pocket, knows a bit more about the world than most people);

An amateur baker (she’ll go to culinary school, prove herself, become a real pastry chef, serve little trios of tiny, tiny desserts on artistically abstract plates, swirls of delicate sauces around her fragile work);

And not a candlestick maker, but a candle maker (not just candlesticks, makes more than that, not like it makes a crap job working for tourists any better, but it’s an easy life, hell of a lot better than the Bronx. Here, there’s no worry about crackheads in claustrophobic apartment buildings, they shoot up in their own mobile homes in these parts and leave her alone, let her keep her life sectioned off, the way she likes it: her own little cabin secluded from all the bullshit of the world).

The butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker, watch how they notice, how they’ve been waiting, wanting, needing a touch of something edged in recklessness, promise of ephemeral and nothing more.

That’s a damn lie, pretty words to cover up the hollow points, to fuse together joints, say this is the beginning and here is the end and thus, the conjunction is the safe middle, round and sloping, petering off at the end, because such things must simply end.


*


They're the ones adrift, these transient boys, cast off from the mundane, marked as something else, dangerous and now, an imperative, no questions asked. No negotiations need.

Beginning here, this one starts, stops, picks up at different points in time (no middle to a story, there’s just story): always the same thing. The Winchesters on their journey, seeking safe harbors. See how they reach out but for a moment, time enough to touch, to impact something unlike a bruise, it fades before the shadow-dark settles over (under) skin.


Part One: The Butcher


*


Under the bright lights of the overheads, makes everything white and clean, she doesn’t look up at his question, only says, dismissively, heavy New York accent by way of Brooklyn even though they’re not in Brooklyn, “There’s no such thing as a free meal. And no, we don’t give people castoffs, what kinda place you think my family’s runnin’?”

Runnin, no g to be bothered with, hard and heavy, like she’s anxious to take off. Dean waits, waits until she catches Sam giving her the best hangdog look, ‘cause what they’re after, they need to be quick about it. Nasty piece of work, a goddamn forager, needs to gorge on all the meat it can find, been killing around the perimeter of this butcher shop, good thing they’re on the goddamn case and picked up on the pattern.

Sigh, pretty noise that does a catch and release in her mouth, tongue flicking out for a moment, darting quick and pink. She mumbles about how there’s a lot of stray dogs and maybe someone could’ve done that, but, “...No way I’m tossing out meat, shit that’s turning, to animals. Now, there anything else I can do for you?”

Dean wishes he had a grill, he’d take one of those rib-eyes and toss it on the heat for a few minutes, but they don’t even have a damn hot plate in their motel room. Fucking starving and he knows that Sam’s gonna walk into that goddamn health food store, Trader Joe’s or whatever, and pick out some froofy crap promising no trans-fats/low-fat/nonfat nasty sawdust tasting shit.

Stomach rumbles, loudly, Sam and the butcher-girl, name tag of Regina take notice. Sam’s wearing exasperation on his face, second nature to him, and Regina’s holding back a laugh.

“You could do me a favor and buy somethin’ from me,” she says, sweep of gloved hand over the spread, painstakingly handwritten signs stuck up carefully noting the specific names for each cut of meat.

But that’s not what Dean’s in the mood for, needs something else and then, he sees it. A hint of a blush that’s gonna bloom across her face when he leans over the glass top, shoots off a come-on, cocks an eyebrow and when she answers, saying yes without saying yes, he knows he’s in.


*


In the dark, seeking that nestled pink, he gets her hair sticky when he runs fingers, one then two, gotta start off with barely a touch. He sucks the pulse point on her neck hard, she's noisy, best thing to be, like this, panties shucked just past the knees, smearing wet all over, little sucking sweet noises, bring his fingers to her mouth, watches her hesitate, brief taste and he doesn't get that, he knows she's gonna taste so fucking good. He seals his mouth over hers, gets his fingers in between their tongues.

Like, that, there, he wants to say, can't you taste how fucking good you are? He wants more, he's always been greedy, needs to make it messy and slow, get more and now what he says is, "You gonna scream for it?"

"No. I don't," she's still working around, around that edge of nervousness, exposed in the middle of a local forgotten little park, community green or whatever the hell. Nervous because of exposure which yeah, she is, stripped down, all the interesting parts available for him to look, touch (better: taste), but she's fucking gorgeous splayed out on dark-dark green, she's gotta know that. "I don't scream. We have to be quiet. Please."

Fingers go back in, not to get her off, to get more, smears sticky-warm on her thighs and he trails down, lets her know where he's going, where he's been dying to go since she bit her bottom lip and said I'd love to take a spin in that car. then blushed at the lameness of her come-on.

Breathes in deep, doesn't let her tug his head away, pushes her fingers to clutch at the hair on the back of his head, fuck, do whatever she fucking wants to him, just let him, let him do this.

Tongues the folds, taps around, not gonna touch the clit till she screams for it.

"Please," Regina whispers like this is a goddamn library (and Dean's screwed around in plenty of them, never bothered being quiet).

"Gotta tell me what you want, how you want me to lick you all up until you come all over my face."

Hot burn across her face. "Girls don't do that."

"You're gonna do that, I swear, you taste fucking good," he almost sings out, knows he’s drawling, almost sounds drunk on her. One finger slicked up, just edges down, down, past her pussy, working his way towards another hole, liking that she squeaks with surprise.

"I don't think, I, uh," she's babbling but even better, she's spreading her legs wider, he licks her all up, flattens his tongue, then works round her clit with the tip of his tongue.

He wants to jack her off with fingers, but doesn't want her coming yet, needs to build it up to get her to scream, she's biting her lip and just, fuck that, breaks away and says, "You're gonna soak my face with it, you're fucking driving me crazy, you know how hard I'm gonna fuck you? Make you so wet till I don't fucking know how, gonna have to keep your legs clamped around me like a fucking vice. You know how to squeeze, baby?"

Presses his index finger against her, not pushing it, hoping she gets the point and shit, she does, tight flutter-quick contraction, but she's only moaning, he needs better than that.

"Maybe you wanna fuck me, 'stead, wanna rock up on me, love to see your tits bouncing, you working 'em and I'll touch your clit then, so long as you let go, you'll be hoarse at the end of it, yeah, you wanna try that?"

Goes back down, tongue in the pink, pushing her open, hands on her thighs, noisy as all hell.

"Goddamn tasty," he says, muffled, nip to her thigh, place where thigh-meets-pussy. "You scared of gettin' caught? Maybe that's why you're so wet."

"You're...a fuckin' perv," she hisses, accent so goddamn harsh, unlike the rest of her, all curvy and soft and fucking hell, he yanks open his zipper, touches his wet hand to his dick, watches her looking at him stroking, steady and slow.

"Fuck yeah."

Sloppy, sloppy, he usually bring his A game to this, finesse and staying power, that’s how it should be, but he’s doomed ‘cause he looks up at her, mouth a big O, all full and rich and he can’t help himself, lips, tongue, little nip of teeth on the outer edge of her pussy, not gonna bruise the merchandise, gotta get her revved up, wants her to let loose, fucking let go already.

Moves away to lick his lips, slow, needs to keep from going completely buck wild, has to leave her hanging for a moment. Her fingers start going towards her pussy, one hand working at her nipples, back and forth. Awesome, she likes ‘em pulled, fucking gorgeous little peaks dusky-dark, slant-pointing north, bless her, they’re real titties, squashy-thick and he’d put his hands on them, but instead he grabs her hand with his right, stops her from getting past curls into the warm wet that still needs to be eaten out, covers her up with his left hand.

Soft noise of protest, little whisper-breath, Regina saying, “C’mon, you’re killing me, please...”

“No way. You’re not gonna come unless it’s on account of me.”

Watches how she circles around an areola with her index finger, nail running over the neat little grooves, doesn’t go to the tip of the cute little peaks until she needs to squirm up against his hand, warm, wet, almost-leaking.

Mouth still open in that goddamn circle and he says, “Fuck, you want my cock in you, don’t ‘cha? Wanna suck me off.”

“Fuck off,” she almost-whines, pressing hard against his hand but he isn’t slipping a goddamn finger inside unless she hollers and makes the fucking trees shiver ‘n quake, he wants her scream muffled to his ears with her legs around his head as he licks her, fucks her off with his tongue. “That’s not, please, let me come, I need-”

“What do you want?” Soft because Dean wants, wants to give her a night to remember, fucking cliché that is, wants to see how she falls apart. Women are so fucking gorgeous when they come, different, needs to know what she looks like, fucked out, sweat cooling on her skin.

“Can I?” Squirms again, against his hand, knees rising, bumping alongside his body as he crouches over her, and she takes a deep breath, says, “I can hold out, I’ll, I’ll, do it-”

“Scream?”

“Yeah, fuck, yes, I’ll, please, I can hold out, a little longer, and I’ll-”

Tongue-fucks her mouth this time, good teeth bumping, ‘cause it should be bad but she’s a fucking moaner in the best way. Hell, she loves it when he makes tasting trails across her jaw, down her neck, probably wants a few love bites, stupid hickeys to remind her, like the after-throb down below ain’t enough of a remembrance.

Manages to get the condom on, shuck jeans and underwear down, enough to press against her, nothing going in, she hasn’t held up her part of the bargain. “Now we gonna do this when you fuckin’ scream. Want to eat you fucking out. Tasting how good you are? Nothing better in the goddamn world.”

He needs to make her believe that, looks in her eyes, pretty dark eyes that’re blue in good light, dark here, dash of moonlight catches the blue and he wants her fucking begging.

“I need to, shit, um, sit on your face.” Again that quick look, like she’s mortified or some shit, meanwhile Dean’s been eating her out and fucking playing with her asshole, but no, that request, which Dean is fucking happy to agree to, that’s something that needs to be forced out.

“Fuck, you sit hard enough so I don’t breathe, you hear me?”

Shudders against him, promises, “Yeah, yeah I will.”

Bolder as they break apart, Dean watches how she kicks off her panties, they’ll have to go searching for them later if one of them remembers, she says, kneeling back down, “When I first saw you, I really thought you’d have a pretty dick.”

Dean laughs at that, slow-deep chuckle as she climbs over him, reverse-cowgirls for a second, he almost warns her that’s not the plan, but she keeps moving back, slow sway to her hip and he gets her knees over his shoulders, legs spreading open and dark settling down, deep breath of her and opens his mouth and tongue almost-touches clit, needs to hear her, but doesn’t.

No, instead it’s a moan around his cock, way-too-fucking-good vibrations, gonna shoot a load, way too fucking quick, but she must know that, and better, she knows her body’s been kept dangling too long ‘cause she sits up, rocking on his face. Must not be too familiar with it this way, rocking her hips a little too much, too hard, looking for the spiral-down touch of orgasm.

Fuck, just, fuck it. Pushes her up a little, grunts under her, “Turn around and sit down, you can suck me off after I get you screaming.”

“Really wanted to try a sixty-nine,” she says, breathy, happy to comply. Much better like this, shit, she’s soaking his face, doesn’t matter, tastes so good, he encourages her, listens to moans and whines getting higher, louder, hears her saying Yes, fuckin' eat me out, so, so good, wanna come, let me come, please please please.

He’s got fingers in her now, just two, slick as anything, as she bends over, one hand on the ground, other working her tits, and he keeps crooking his fingers, looking for that part of her, wants her so wet, she can’t stand it, ‘till it’s reflexive, automatic, just squeezing, letting go.

Screaming.

Motherfucking son of a bitch fuck me Dean, that’s her battle cry, her scream, loud as a goddamn bell, cracking in the middle, how her pussy contracts, tight around his fingers, then, fucking yes, there it is, welling up behind, pulls fingers out, shoots into his mouth, runs down his chin, on his neck.

He steadies her hips, keeps her from tumbling off to the side, lets her settle back to the ground easy.

Dick so hard, not gonna last, but it’s worth it, nuzzles wet down her breast, stomach, laps at her curls, just on the outside. Waits until she thumps him on the back of his head before he stops.

Dean would jack off, needs to, she’s fucked out in the best way, goosebumps all over, hair matted and it’ll be a nightmare getting those grasses and whatever out. Doesn’t want to look like some fucking amateur, impatient for his turn, like, eating out a chick ain’t nothing but a goddamn appetizer or something. Guys can be so stupid about that shit, hell, that’s half the reason why half the chicks he’s given head to, they’ve all got their men waiting for them somewhere, but they saw Dean flicking his tongue over his bottom lip and wanted and he gives it with goddamn relish.

“Dean,” she says, suddenly, “You’re Dean Whatever and you drive a ’67 Chevy Impala, rebuilt from scratch all on your own, and she rides like a long orgasm to wherever you need to go.”

“Uh, yeah,” he responds, not knowing what the hell’s going on.

Stares at him, hooded, secret look, and she says, “I lied. First thing I thought when I saw you? Was that you have a pretty mouth. And that I’d really like to suck you off.”

“No need to ask.” His dick’s almost leaking for it, shit, this ain’t gonna be an impressive show of stamina.

“No,” she agrees, clambering back over, but not as quick, slow, slow, best way, hand on his dick, questioning, fluttering touch. “You have any STD’s?”

“Shit, most people’ll lie about that, baby,” Dean says, doesn’t think of the handful of STD scares he’s had in his lifetime, bad, bad memory lane he avoids at all costs.

She makes a slight noise, doesn’t sound like disappointment, mutters low, Dean barely catches it, something that sounds like, “Doesn’t seem fair,” and reckless, reckless as the woman who lets a stranger eat her out in a public park, she pulls off the condom, sucks off just the head of his cock, her mouth warm, tongue quick, darting, plays close attention to the slit in his head.

Regina’s messy-hot-warm-enthusiastic and Dean’s got her ass swinging in front of him, returns to fingering her as she takes him in her mouth deeper, his cock hitting the back of her mouth.

“Yeah,” Dean manages, rough-shod, first strike coming, coming, balls getting tight, and he’s antsy, wants to come in her mouth, wonders if she’d swallow, shit, even if she doesn’t, maybe see a trail of come down her lips, he’s gonna need to suck that right off, fucking anything he can get his mouth on, he will. “You wanna swallow it all down, so good, so goddamn good.”

Releases him, loud kinda pop noise, flicks hair over her shoulder, stares at him, wiggles her ass, cants hips back so his fingers, three this time, slip deeper. “Fuck my mouth. Fuck me, Dean.”

Stares at her, like, what the hell have they been doing to each other since he yanked her panties down?

“What?”

“You have a dirty, hot-as-hell mouth, but you’re a goddamn gentleman, you won’t...” she looks for words and then repeats, “Fuck. My. Mouth.”

It settles and Dean gets back in the groove. “You wanna choke.”

“Mmm, baby,” dangerous flicker on kiss-bruised lips, she says, “Wanna choke you down.”

“Fuuuck.” Dean has to picture something horrifying, something bad to keep from coming right away, but nothing comes to him and when Regina’s mouth opens, starts sucking him back down, and he can’t help it, pushes up, up, up, hard, hears her almost gag, doesn’t care, needs to come, wants to see what she does. “This what you want? Fucking your mouth. Such a fucking dirty mouth, almost as good as your pussy, but your pussy’s wetter, gonna try to make you squirt all over me again, know you want it, pretty little pussy and fun little clit. It hides, I’m gotta seek it out.”

Babbling, talking too much, he knows it, goes guttural at the end, he might find her clit but he doesn’t get her off again, she keeps on sucking him and he goes, nearly fucking pistons up into her mouth, fuck, he’s never been a goddamn gentleman, he’d feel, what, embarrassed, no, just, shouldn’t do that, too fucking much.

Later, later, worry about it then, she rolls off of him, he’s stopped fingering her, sees the faint sticky sight of his come, just a little trail down her mouth, once his body agrees to let him move, he’s gonna lean over, kiss out the pussy-come-his-come-their-spit, nasty-good in every which way.

“You taste better,” Regina says, voice slightly hoarse, too fucked out to care that she’s lying on the ground, legs spread open, two fingers touching herself, wondering, all curious, and yeah, she’s a glorious mess of wet.

Dean ignores that his body isn’t fucking ready yet, ignores everything, gets up and then leans over, kisses her like out of a goddamn fairytale, only with a lot more fucking tongue, says once he’s had fair time to judge, “No freakin’ way. We taste better.”

end

To Be Continued: Part 2: The Baker