#just your thoughts and opinionson this hella dark piece

[speckledspout]

Abandon your Saints, Accept your Sins

ship: wincest ↳characters: soulless!sam and demon!dean rating: explicit ao3 link tags:  semi-public sex, blow jobs, dirty talk, church sex, underage sex, pedophilia, non-graphic rape/non-con elements, mentioned rape, wall sex, mirror sex, switching, nipple play, violence, graphic death summary: “They don't do it out of the goodness of their heart. They're not even sure if they have anything left inside of them that's good. They do it because they need to do it. Sam needs blood and Dean needs his brother. So if they have to travel around the country, slicing a few throats, they would be more than happy to. I mean, it's not any different than what they used to do. The blood spill is the same. The only thing that might have changed is the fact that there is a lot more sex.” word count: 6,669 a/n: so this is the first thing that i’ve written in a while and it is dark as fuck. seriously, heed the warnings. thoughts, comments, and opinions are always welcomed. tagging: @wetsammywinchester, @clearlylostmymind, @kittenofdoomage, @ilostmyshoe-79, @im-a-winchester-in-hell-1967, @brosinlove, @oh-jesus-sammy, @masterlynovak, @loveitsallineed (so these are pretty much the only wincest shippers I know. If you don’t or do want to be tagged, let me know.)

They decided to meet up at a bar somewhere just outside of Montana. It was a little over a week ago that they agreed to split up, take care of some business that they both had to attend to. Dean wasn’t really sure what Sam needed to clear up and Sam wasn’t sure what Dean needed to clear up and they both knew that neither one of them would find out and they were perfectly okay with that. They were grown ass adults and they could take care of things that they needed to take care of without the other following them like a lost little puppy dog.

Dean was sitting at the bar, that red shirt hanging off his body almost sinfully as he chatted up a pretty little blonde. Her name was Susie and she was going to school to be a school teacher and Dean would have totally fucked her in the bathroom if it weren’t for Sam that walked up behind him, his hands sliding down Dean’s chest, completely laying claim to him.

Susie stumbled over her feet as she rose from her bar seat, looking between the two men. “Oh… I am so sorry. I… I didn’t realize that he was… that you were…”

But Sam cut her off with one of his award winning smiles. “You’re fine, sweetheart.” His mouth was right next to Dean’s ear. “Dean likes to get me jealous by flirting with pretty girls like you. He likes how possessive I get when we get back to the motel room.”

Susie blushed even harder if that was even possible and excused herself from the boys. Dean threw Sam’s hands off his body. “Get off of me, bitch.” He grumbled and Sam laughed as he say down in the same seat that Susie was just in. It was still warm from her. “You couldn’t have just waited three minutes. She would have totally let me take her back to the bathroom.”

“It’s good to see you too, Dean.” Sam replied, signaling to the barkeep to give him the same thing that his brother was having. “I suppose you took care of what you needed to take care of?”

Dean nodded into the glass of whiskey that he rose to his lips. He wasn’t sure how long it would take the police to find the bodies and then he wasn’t sure how long it was going to take them to reconstruct their face, but at some point in the near future, in the local newspaper, a picture of Roy and Walt would appear along side with a paragraph of sympathy and the fact that they were beat beyond death.

But quite, frankly, they deserved it. It had been long enough since they shot him and his brother. Dean didn’t often hold grudges but they killed his brother and that was something that he just couldn’t allow.

“Yeah, I did what I had to do. And you? You took care of your business?”

Yeah, Sam’s business was completely different than Dean’s. He could still practically smell the perfume on his skin. Sam’s smile was the only answer that Dean needed.

Somehow they made it back to the motel room that Dean had rented for the next couple of days, Dean pressed up against the red door, Sam pressing in on him, kissing, licking, sucking on every piece of exposed skin that he could find. Dean threw his head back, moaning like some back alley whore because he was some back alley whore when it came to his brother.

Dean slipped his hand past the waistband of Sam’s jeans and groaned at the realization that Sam wasn’t wearing anything underneath those jeans that hung dangerously low on his hips.

“Shit, Dean…” Sam mumbled, dropping his head to rest against Dean’s collarbone. “Can’t wait to get inside?”

“No, I was thinking that you could just fuck me out here.” Dean replied and Sam raised his head to look at Dean but Dean was looking off the the side, that smirk set in permanent on his lips.

Sam turned his head and saw what had captured his brother’s attention. Two girls who looked like they would be a ton of fun to get alone, were standing next to their car, seemingly completely frozen as they looked at Sam and Dean pressed up against each other against that red motel door. Sam laughed. A good hearty sound that Dean would never tire of.

“You kinky son of a bitch.” Sam said, going back to attacking Dean’s neck. Those bruises that he had left last week were already starting to fade.

“Don’t act like you don’t get off on it. It feeds your superiority complex.”

“I think it’s you that gets off on it more than I do. You would love to preform in front of an entire audience if you could.” Sam pulled the keys to the room out of Dean’s pocket and fumbled, trying to get them into the door to unlock it.

Sam never stayed in one spot for long and they finally had to break away when the door opened behind Dean, making him stumble backwards. Dean was grabbing at Sam again, hands in his hair, pushing back his jacket.

The door clicked shut and Dean was suddenly spun around, his hands pinned above his head as Sam crowded up against him again.

“Someone’s a little handsy, isn’t he?” Sam taunted, his hot breath fanning across Dean’s face. He pulled back just far enough that he could see the entirety of Dean, his hands still pinned above his head. “Never gonna get tired of the shape of my mouth on your neck.”

“Shut up and just fuck me.” Dean demanded and Sam was more than happy to oblige.

He yanked Dean from the door, pushing Dean backwards until his knees hit the edge of the bed and with another small push, Dean sat down. He was all the more willing to let Sam shove him around. At least right now. His turn would come later.

The room smelled strongly of bleach and Sam and that was a smell that was nearly like home to Dean.

Sam dropped to his knees, never breaking eye contact with Dean, couldn’t even if he tried. Chills ran up Dean’s spine as Sam roughly shoved his legs open so Sam could position himself in between them. Just where he was supposed to be. His hands landed on Dean’s thighs, running up the expanse of his legs, hovering so close to where Dean wanted him.

“I should have you doing this to me.” Sam said as he palmed Dean through his jeans. Dean had been hard ever since Sam had run his hands down him in that bar. Except Sam made no move to change positions, to have Dean on his knees for him.

Sam stood back up, hovering over Dean, the pads of his fingers spread wide on Dean’s chest and pushed him down on the bed, laying on his back. Sam climbed up on the bed, trapping Dean with his body, laying claim to his mouth once more as he pushed the red shirt off his shoulders. Dean shimmied out of it, dropping it to the ground beside them.

Then Sam was pushing Dean’s shirt up his stomach, his lips following the hem of it, sucking and biting the soft flesh there. Dean wiggled underneath Sam, wanting so much more than Sam was willing to give at the moment. Annoyed with the slow progress, Dean grabbed the bottom of the shirt and pulled it off. That earned him a strong bite to the meatiest part of his stomach. Yeah, the motherfucker was going to leave some permanent marks, not that Dean really minded to begin with.

Sam’s pauses briefly, just hovering over Dean’s exposed flesh. He was going to make Dean beg, not that Dean begging was below Dean. “Please.” Dean moaned. “Go ahead. It’s yours.”

“All mine.” Sam mimicked as a feral grunt, animalistic and hungry ripped through Sam’s chest as he wrapped his arms around Dean’s body, pulling him up towards his mouth as opposed to ducking down.

There was a gasp of surprise that escaped from Dean that turned into a low moan as his entire body turned rigid. Dean arched up off the bed even more, wrapping his leg around Sam’s waist to bring Sam down on top of him.

Dean whined. The man that had turned into a demon and didn’t take shit from anyone fucking whined as Sam continued to suck on him, his fingers playing with the other one.

“Too pretty to be beggin’.” Sam muttered as he ran his tongue in a firm circle over and over the raised bud before biting into his raw, wet, spit slippery nipple, tugging it hard, pulling it away from Dean’s body before letting it go only to do it all over again until Dean was nearing crying out.

“Fuck… Sam… Sam… oh, shit…” Dean moaned.

Sam bites on it until he’s sure that it’s got to hurt from the abuse, half bitten through and Sam can taste blood. Dean’s blood and he’ll lick it up, wanting more, wanting more of that sweet, coppery taste. Dean’s literally shaking underneath him, hands fisted in Sam’s hair as he tries to keep Sam as close to him as possible. His heart was jack-rabbiting underneath Sam’s mouth.

“Sam, please… The other one… Please…”

“You gonna come like this, Dean? Just like this? Only by me biting your nipples raw?” Sam taunted as he sucked hard on the one that he was just working on to start the whole process over on the other one.

Dean’s staring down at him, eyes wide, pupils blown with pleasure. He’s trembling, half broken sentences falling past Dean’s lips and he really could come like with. He’s done it before and it was probably one of the most beautiful things that Sam had ever laid witness too.

But he doesn’t want that now. Instead he pulls off with a wet pop, his nipples red, and swollen and raw and Dean is still a writhing mess.

When Sam looked back up Dean’s body, looking at his face, his breathing hitched, just like it always did when he saw Dean like this. He hated to admit it but Dean looked fucking irresistible when his eyes changed from candle apple green to black.

“Fuck, Dean…” Sam groaned, his voice choked off as he grabbed Dean by his shoulder and pulled him up to his feet, kissing him hard.

“Well, Sammy, I tried to keep it under control.” Dean said smirking, knowing that his black eyes were such a turn on for sweet, little, innocent Sammy. “But Sam, a man’s only got so much self control when he’s got a mouth like yours latched onto their chest. You make a man go crazy, sweetheart.”

While Dean was talking, Sam had started to kiss up Dean’s throat, the underside of his jaw and Dean worked Sam’s jacket off those shoulders of his, pulling up his shirt. Sam pulled Dean by the shoulders again, moving to position him in front of the full length mirror that was placed on the wall. Dean looked at the reflection of his brother, smiling.

“And you call me kinky.”

“Shut up.” He muttered, stepping out of his boots and jeans and then got rid of Dean’s, being sure to sure about as much nail as he could so that he would leave his wake on Dean’s strong thighs. He would mark him up as much as he could.

Sam stood back up behind Dean, resting his head on Dean’s shoulder, nipping at his ear as he wrapped his hands around Dean’s body, for the first time grabbing a hold of his hard cock. Dean’s eyes, which had gone back to their original color, flashed black again as Sam stroked him. They never broke eye contact.

Dean pushed back against Sam, feeling his erection pressing against his ass and with every stroke of Sam’s wrist, Dean pushed himself backwards, nudging at Sam’s cock.

“I need your cock, Sammy.” Dean mumbled, eye contact never faltering and Sam bit down hard into Dean’s shoulder, drawing a little bit of blood before licking at the wound that he made. There were plenty of times that Sam had tongued Dean’s wounds.

“Yeah?” Sam questioned. “You want me? You want me bare?”

“Make it hurt.” Dean answered and in response Sam slammed Dean up against that mirror, Dean’s breath fogging up the glass.

Sam spit into the palm of his hand, running his hand up and down the shaft of his cock, slicking it up just the barest bit. He held Dean open, exposing his pretty little hole as Sam pushed inside, hard and a single thrust all the way up to the base of his cock. Dean let out a small cry, half from pain and half from pleasure.

It was all too quick and so little preparation and Dean loved every second of it.

“Fuck, Dean. You’re so fucking tight around my cock.” Sam groaned into Dean’s ear, fingers digging into Dean’s hips so tight that they were going to leave bruises. His teeth settled into the flesh of his shoulder once again. “Always so fucking tight.”

Little white puffs of breaths appeared on the mirror before briefly disappearing only to reappear with every thrust of Sam’s hips.

“You know that I don’t like it when you flirt with other people. Big brother needs to be punished for that.”

Dean groaned weakly against Sam, fingers bracing against the walls, nails scraping at nothing in particular.

Sam pulled just about all the way out, going as slow as he could possibly manage before slamming back into him hard, their hips snapping together.

“Gonna wreck this pretty little hole,” Sam muttered, hands grabbing at the flesh of Dean’s ass, grabbing handfuls of it, holding him open wider. Dean was so warm and so tight and there was that delicious dragging of flesh against flesh. “Gonna make sure that you feel it tomorrow. Gonna mark you up, make you mine.”

“I’m already yours, Sammy.” Dean reminded.

“Shut up.” He punctuated with another hard thrust of his hips.

Yeah, Sam was going to make him feel it tomorrow. He was going to make him feel it the next day too and probably the next day and those marks that he was biting into his skin would be there for days which would be a bitch when he tried to pick someone up at a bar. So yeah, he wasn’t worried about not being able to feel it in the morning.

However right now all he wanted was to be touched. His cock hung in between his legs, hard and aching and all he wanted was to be touched. He needed some kind of friction on it. He needed something.

He dropped his hand from the wall and tried to slide it between his body and the mirror but Sam wrapped his fingers around Dean’s wrist, locking it in an iron grip and then pinned both of Dean’s hands above his head.

Now Dean was pressed flesh up against the mirror, trapped between glass and muscle.

“Sam…” Dean groaned and bucked back against Sam. “Please.”

“You’re not gonna touch yourself, Dean.” Sam growled in his ear, still holding his hands above his head, hips still relentless against Dean’s. “I’ve already touched you, Dean. Don’t you think that is enough?”

It was never enough and Sam knew it. He chuckled against Dean’s neck when Dean still fought against him, desperately trying to break free of his hold. He could do it. Break free. If he really wanted to except he kept up the act and never really followed through with it. There were times when Dean just wanted to be controlled by his little brother.

“Please Sammy.” Dean was reduced to begging now, his voice completely wrecked. Sweat coated both of their bodies. “Please.”

God, he just wanted to be touched.

And Sam couldn’t deny Dean when he got to this point, when he was doing nothing more than just begging for it. Pleas were coming out of his mouth about just as fast as he could say them, just as fast as Sam was pounding into him. He bucked wildly against Sam, pushing up against him and yet Sam never faltered in his pace.

“Why don’t cha beg a little more, Dean?” Sam whispered. “Beg for your little baby brother to touch you.”

“Please, Sammy. Please touch me, little brother.” He was starved for it. Starved for the feeling of Sam’s hand wrapped around him. “I want you to touch me. I need you to touch me. I fucking need it. Please.”

This time Sam didn’t deny the simple pleasure of touching his older brother. Sam wrapped his long fingers around Dean’s cock and Dean fell silent, his mouth hung open in a silent moan.

“Yeah, you like that, Dean, don’t cha? Gonna come in my hand for me, Dean? Are you gonna do that?”

God yes and so many more things.

It didn’t take long. One, two, three more passes of his fist and Dean shouted out Sam’s name as he came.

There was a pause before Sam stepped away from Dean and Dean followed him backwards, still starved for touch but Sam clicked his tongue, looking down at his hand that he had wrapped around Dean. “Now, big brother, look at the mess you made…” Faux pity laced his voice. “You know that I don’t appreciate it when you make messes.”

Dean turned around, his chest still heaving. Sam didn’t even have to say anything to Dean, being that he already wrapped his fingers around Sam’s wrist, pulling his hand towards his mouth, tongue snaking past his lips to clean Sam’s hand clean. Sam didn’t take his eyes off of Dean as he licked his own come from the palm of his hand.

“You’re such a good boy, Dean.” Sam purred. “Always willing to do as I say.” Then Sam placed his hands on Dean’s shoulders and pushed him down to his knees to where he was now kneeling in front of him, Sam’s cock right in front of his mouth, hard and leaking. “Go ahead, suck. I wanna come in your mouth.”

Dean didn’t have to be told twice. He closed the short distance between his mouth and his brother, wrapping his lips around him. Sam groaned at the feeling of having Dean’s lips on him. The wet heat of his mouth was one thing that he would never grow tired of.

“Such a pretty little cock slut, aren’t you, Dean?” Sam ran a loving hand through Dean’s hair and that little motherfucker purred against Sam, making him shudder at the vibrations that were sent through his body. “Always so eager to suck your brother off, aren’t you?

A Knight of Hell was kneeling for the man without a soul. It didn’t get more poetic as that.

Dean did everything that he knew that Sam liked, running his tongue along the bottom of him, hallowing his cheeks and taking him as deep as he could. Sam had stopped running his hand through Dean’s hair, opting to grab the short strands, keeping him as close as he could.

Sam came down Dean’s throat with a loud shout, his whole body shuddering as Dean swallowed everything that Sam gave him.

Dean pulled off of Sam only when he had softened a little in his mouth and his breathing had returned to a somewhat normal pace. Dean kissed up Sam’s body, occasionally biting into the muscles until he was standing up straight again.

“You had your fun, baby brother, and now it’s mine.” Dean smirked as he pulled Sam down to his lips by his hair.

~~~

Demons and people without souls don’t sleep however it was something that their humans bodies had grown so accustomed to (and they would never admit to anyone that they liked to get tangled up in each others limbs, happy and content with each other) that they did it anyway. Got a few unneeded hours of sleep.

Sam woke Dean up, kissing him hard and needy, naked against Dean’s body. When Sam noticed that Dean was awake, he started kissing down his body, this time soft, not trying to mark him up again (that would come later) but just wanted to map out Dean’s body.

His tongue darted out past his lips and traced the dark lines of Dean’s tattoo that couldn’t prevent his blood from changing into the one thing that it was supposed to keep out before moving further down Dean’s body.

Sam brushed his lips across Dean’s thigh, his tongue snaking out to light lick a line up his inner thigh, ghosting his lips over his wet skin before finally tracing a line up his now throbbing erection.

There was no urgency between the two boys, neither of them really in a hurry to speed things up. Even though they were here on business didn’t mean that they needed to hurry up in the bedroom.

Sam closed his eyes, letting the sensations that were racing through his body take over and he sucked, one hand gripped tight on Dean’s thigh, the other on those fingerprint shaped bruises that he left behind the day before. Dean started to move in and out of Sam’s mouth, hitting the back of Sam’s throat until his eyes watered and pulled back out. Sam hummed around Dean, the vibrations thrumming through Dean, causing Dean to jerk forward, his hand tangled in his hair.

Sam moved one hand away from Dean’s body and started to jerk himself off in rhythm of Dean’s movements and it honestly didn’t take long for either boy to completely fall apart.

Dean stared up at the ceiling, feeling Sam crawl back up the bed to lay beside him, a sated smile on his face.

“Well, good morning to you.” Dean said, too blissed out to even care that he sounded like he did when he was human and Sam was so young and horny and nearly woke Dean up like this every morning.

The morning ritual wasn’t anything to make note of. They both took a shower (together. Why waste water?), Dean fucked Sam into the yellow tiles in the bathroom for good measure, then they went for breakfast, Dean got something greasy and fattening while Sam had a smoothie. Dean read off the address of where they were going and then they got into the Impala, mind set on work now and not each other.

The church loomed above them, white and pure and promising salvation to those who entered through those doors however both brothers knew otherwise. They knew where the preachers loyalty laid and it wasn’t with God.

Sam picked out one of the machetes that were laying on top of all the weapons in the trunk while Dean decided to go simple and stick with the gun that he had tucked into his waistband. Besides, it was Sam that liked to get bloody. He liked to get messy.

Their footsteps echoed off the polished floor as they stepped into the church and as they predicted, the man that they were looking for was at the front of the church, standing in front of that alter, flipping through some book. He looked up when he heard the heavy oak doors close behind the two brothers.

“I’m sorry, gentlemen, but I’m afraid that you just missed the sermon. They’ll be another one later this afternoon if you would like to come back.” He said, his voice booming through the room, sounding more powerful than he should sound and then he looked back down at what he was flipping through.

“Actually, Father, we were looking for you.” Dean said and the Father jumped when he looked up because Dean was standing right in front of him, right in front of the alter. He had just been at the back of the church.

“For me?” The Father’s voice was a pitch higher now than it was just a moment ago. “Now, what could two gentlemen like yourselves need me for?”

“Well, you see, Sammy and I will be your personal escort to hell.” Dean replied with such nonchalance, sounding almost bored. Sam continued to walk towards them, still human just without a soul and he didn’t move as fast as Dean now could.

The Father furrowed his brow, he fumbled for something behind him. “I’m afraid I don’t understand you, son. Escort me to hell? I have a ticket upstairs to walk through those pearly gates and to sit on the right hand of God.”

Dean turned back to face Sam who was now standing next to his brother. “Do we have the wrong guy?” He asked, trying to sound like there was an honest mistake. Like they were looking for a different preacher.

Sam looked the guy up and down before answering, shaking his head. “No, this is the guy. Grade A sleaze ball who likes to take little boys behind the church pews and touch them.”

The man gasped before biting down on his jaw. “I am going to give you two once chance to leave my church.” He pointed towards the doors and yet neither brother moved. “Get out!”

“What are you going to do, Father?” Dean questioned, taking a step closer to the man who was shrinking underneath Dean’s gaze. “You gonna call the police? Go ahead. You’ll be dead before they get here.” Then Dean laughed. “Oh! I know. You’re going to condemn me and my brother to hell, aren’t you?” A beat of silence. “Well, sorry to inform you, old man, but we’ve already been.” And with that Dean smirked and his eyes turned black.

The Father gasped, whatever he was going to say suddenly caught in in throat as he realized just what was standing in his church.

Finally, he found what he was looking for. He tightened his fingers around the bottle of holy water and flung it towards Dean, the water hitting both him and Sam. And while it didn’t affect Sam, Dean hissed, his skin steaming just ever so slightly as the bless water settled on his exposed skin.

Dean snarled.

“That wasn’t very nice, old man. I thought that everyone was welcomed in the House of God. At least… that’s what you preach when your hand is shoved down the pants of someone who is a fraction of your age.”

“Your… your kind isn’t welcomed here.” He spewed.

“My kind?” Dean asked, faux concussion lacing his voice as he purposely talked in a higher pitch tone. This was always the fun part. The part when the guy realized that there was no way out, no matter what he said. Dean was just playing with his food, seeing how far they would run until their heart gave out.

“Demons.” The preacher spit. “Demons aren’t welcomed in the House of God.”

“Old man, I’m just as welcome here as you are. Hell, I’m more than welcomed. Even Lucifer downstairs doesn’t take too kindly to men who lead their ‘flock’ astray and he certainly isn’t tolerant to men to touch little boys. You’re even more evil than I am.” Dean lunged after the man, puling him into a headlock, cutting off his air supply, rendering him unable to speak. “Sammy, sweetheart, you mind getting me a chair for our next client?”

Sam, always the pliant and willing brother, grabbed the nearest chair that he could find and set it down in front of Dean who then pushed the Father to sit down in it. True and honest to god fear settled on the man’s face and he tried to get up, tried to make a run for it but Dean easily caught him, pushing him back down.

“I don’t think that I said that you could stand up. Sammy… you wanna come over here?” There was no question in his voice.

No matter how many places they went to and rid the world of true evil, the game was always the same. Sam would have his fun, he would get his craving for blood and Dean would get his craving for his brother.

With the machete hanging loose by Sam’s side, he walked towards Dean, the tip of the blade lightly scraping over the tile and he stood up tall next to Dean. Dean reached out and grabbed the back of Sam’s head, pulling him for a short kiss and the preachers eyes widen.

Brothers. He had said they were brothers, right?

“Go ahead, Sammy. Go have your fun.” Dean muttered.

Sam dropped the machete by his feet. The sound of metal on tile echoed all throughout the church as Sam walked closer to the man. Why bind someone to a chair with rope when they were literally paralyzed with fear?

He watched as Sam moved until Sam was towering over him. He braced his hands on his shoulders as Sam lowered himself into the lap of the man, straddling him in the chair. The Father kept glancing between him and Dean who was now sitting in the nearest church pew, watching just how beautiful this whole image was.

“I want to know why you did it.” Sam whispered sweetly into the preachers ear, all boy innocent. “I want to know why you wanted to take their innocence at such a young age.”

The man didn’t answer, choosing to look else where now.

Sam sighed as he grabbed his chin in between his forefinger and thumb, forcing him to look at Sam in the eyes.

“Did you do it to feel powerful?” There was a fire behind Sam’s eyes. “Did you do it because you knew that no one would ever catch you? I mean, no one would suspect that a preacher would do this to children.”

Still the preacher didn’t say anything.

“I’m going to kill you, you know.” Sam said so matter of factly and the man’s eyes widen. “So, it doesn’t really matter if you tell me now because the truth will be told and those boys will finally have some peace.”

“You… you wouldn’t kill me…” But he didn’t sound too sure. Not anymore. “You wouldn’t kill a preacher.”

“No, you’re right.” And the man sagged just a little underneath Sam in false relief. “I only kill monsters.”

He shifted under Sam, breathing suddenly labored.

“I think I know why you did it.” Sam turned to face Dean, a childish smile on his face. “I think I know why he did it, Dean.” Sam looked back at the preacher. “It’s because you liked they way they felt, huh? Because they were soft and…”

“They weren’t underaged!” The preacher suddenly blurted out. “They weren’t little boys. They were not children. They were of age. And I did it to protect them! To protect them from the sins that happen out there.” He nearly cried out, pointing to outside of the church. “These children are willing to give it up to anyone, not caring of what happens afterwards, I’m just doing it to keep them pure.”

“Oh, and that makes it so much better?” Sam asked, unable to keep himself from laughing. He wasn’t sure where Dean found these fucked up people but he was so glad to see that there were people crazier than him and his brother.

The preacher swallowed.

“But you know what, I can almost guarantee you that they didn’t beg for it. Not like I would.” Sam grabbed the preachers hand and let it rest of his mid-thigh.

The preacher licked his lips, looking down at his hand before looking back up at Sam. He seemed torn. So fucking torn and it was sad honestly. He wanted to enjoy this but he knew that it was wrong, so fucking wrong but what did he care?

“It’s okay, Father. You can touch me. You did just say that you did it to protect them. Protect me from the evils of the outside world.” Sam sounded so pretty when he begged.

But the preacher shook his head. “You can’t be… I won’t…”

Sam hadn’t realized that Dean had moved from his spot on the church pew until Sam felt the heavy weight of his hands on his shoulders.

“You’re acting like you don’t know what to do, old man. Like you’re scared to touch someone who is offering themselves to you. And let me tell you one thing, you don’t deny my brother when he offering his body.” Dean slid his hands down Sam’s body, teasing at the skin above his jeans briefly before unbuttoning his jeans to slip his hand into his underwear.

“Please…” The preacher begged. “Please don’t do this.”

Dean cupped Sam in his hand and Sam moaned, resting his head against Dean’s chest, letting Dean do what he wanted.

“You might say that you did what you did out of love but, old man, listen to him. This is what love sounds like.” Dean whispered, his voice hardly louder than Sam’s moans. The preacher tried to look everywhere but at the two boys in front of him but he couldn’t resist looking at Sam, at how beautiful he is.

Dean left him hard and wanting, pulling away when Sam leaned into him just a little bit too much and moved to stand up, buttoning himself up. He bent down and picked up the machete that laid on the ground.

“Please… I’m sorry.” The preacher begged. “Please. I won’t do it again.”

“I’m afraid that you missed the off ramp to apologize a long time ago, old man.” Dean said.

“I’m gonna cut everything that sticks out.” Sam warned and Dean smiled where he had taken seat on the church pew away, arm thrown over the back of it, looking completely happy with wait he was doing. Just watching.

“Torture.” Dean hummed, his breathtaking features turning into a highly amused smile. “I do love some good, old fashioned torture. Have at it, Sammy. Just… put on a good show, sweetheart.”

Sam ran his tongue slowly over his lips, nearly swaying as he approached the shaking man. He was now muttering prayers, begging for forgiveness, begging for Sam not to do this. Please, just don’t do this. It was wrong. It was bad. I know that but please. Let me live.

The Winchesters did not give second chances.

But he didn’t do what he said that he was going to do either. He didn’t cut off everything that stuck out. He didn’t start with the toes and then moved to the fingers. He didn’t start below the belt. Instead, Sam raised the blade over his head, bringing it down into the man’s leg. Hard. He howled at the machete became lodged into his thigh.

Sam yanked the blade from his leg, hearing another howl escape him.

The Father continued to scream as he bled and Sam panted, twisting the machete in his hand and feeling all of that pent up rage just festering beneath his skin that he kept hidden for this moment. Sam looked over at Dean, who was still just watching with his arms hanging lazily on the back of the pew. He flashed Sam a grin and Sam smiled softly back before turning back to the preacher, who was beginning to shake and whimper.

"Pathetic," Dean murmured as he cocked his head to the side. "Already going into shock," he paused. "This wasn't as exciting as I wanted it to be."

Sam didn't stop though, he waited too long for this; he raised the blade again and swung it down, this time landing in his shoulder. He wailed and shook his head violently. When Sam jerked the machete out and more blood poured to the floor around the two of them, the momentum pulled his chair forward. He landed on the floor face first, shaking and coughing, blood pouring out of him.

Sam licked his lips and wiped his forearm across his face, feeling a wetness trailing behind on his skin. Sam ground his teeth as he raised the blade above his head again, letting it tremble in the air for a long moment. It went down heavy, slicing clear through his skull and embedding itself into the floor.

The preachers cries ceased and his body went slack, leaving only Sam’s heavy pants to fill the air. Sam’s hands slipped from the handle, eyes watching it dip slightly in the air but it didn't fall.

Sam jumped when thick arms draped around his waist, pulling him back against a hard chest and hot breath wafted over his throat. "Now that's what I'm talkin' about, baby boy.” He murmured and pressed a sloppy kiss against Sam’s jaw. "Real justice…"

Sam let out a thick breath and relaxed against him, his eyes watched the blood slowly stretching out over the smooth marble.

“Now…” Dean brushed his nose up Sam’s temple, making Sam’s breath hitch as he cupped a hand between his legs. "Where should we start? On the pew? How about the floor? See how long we can rut it out before the blood reaches us?"

“Dean…” Sam breathed and hunched his hips forward, aching for…everything. For him. He was so high on everything that was coursing through his body.

“Church pew it is.” Dean said, holding onto Sam as he walked backwards, settling down on the pew. Sam was clawing at him, desperate to get Dean’s clothes off. Murder always did make Sam horny.

Dean’s eyes turned black.

Then nothing else was said. It was all hands and lips and teeth as the two of them grabbed and pulled at each other, trying to rid one another of clothes, almost making it a race to see who could get the other naked the fastest.

“Take what you want, Sammy.” Dean muttered when they were both finally naked.

Sam was still stretched from that morning when Dean had fucked him yet again into the mattress for good measure (because the shower wasn’t enough. It never was) and they both groaned when Sam lowered himself on to Dean’s cock, taking it slowly until Dean was all the way seated inside Sam.

This was going to kill Dean one day. Just how dirty, filthy, wrong it was. It was surely going to kill him but he was going to relish in it every day that he could.

Sam tightened his thighs around Dean’s hips, clenching him tighter and Dean groaned.

Sam fucked himself on Dean’s cock, straddling him on that church pew as that man bleed out just a few feet away. There was still blood on Sam’s skin and it mixed with the sweat that coated Dean’s body.

“Come on, Sammy. Come for me.” Dean urged, now rocking up into Sam.

And Sam did just because Dean had asked him to do it, bucking and whimpering, signing his name like a gospel that is sung every Sunday morning. Sam was only vaguely aware of the fact that Dean had grabbed his hips tighter, digging his fingers into his hips as he came himself.

They stayed like that for a while. They stayed like that until Dean got soft and they were forced to move for fear that someone would walk in and find them (not that it would be a problem but it would just be another body that they would have to drop and goddamnit, Dean just had to get out of that church before God himself literally cast him back to hell).

They left the preacher like that, bleeding and all cut up for the choir group to find and it wouldn’t be until the boys were halfway across the country that the truth would come out about the preacher and everyone would be singing a silent hallelujah to whatever angel was watching over their children.