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Lust for Revenge	By : FireSage Category: Supernatural > Slash - Male/Male Views: 13182 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
A/N: I am so very, very sorry that it took me so long to update. I meant to have this up a week ago but came down with a serious sickness and have had to play catch up in school and recover. I am sorry that it took so long! Anyway, I hope this chapter makes up for it and you all enjoy!

It took five days for Bobby call with a lead. Word through the grape vine said, that in a town a couple miles away, several people had lost their fucking minds. Well, their fucking minds were perfectly intact. It was the rest of their minds that they had lost that was the problem.

According to Bobby, dozens of people in the town were experiencing hyper sexuality to the point of banging trees. People were being arrested left and right for indecent exposure, sexual assaults, and any other sex based crime you could think of. Six people had already died. And we aren’t just talking about someone getting a ‘gift’ that they couldn’t return, we’re talking someone’s heart physically burst from being over worked by having sex for hours. Dean was a fan of sex, a big fan really, but the thought of having sex for hours and hours on end made his balls hurt and his face scrunch up like one of those uppity church ladies that looked down their nose at anything fun because it was ‘dirty’.

“From what Bobby said we can be in town before noon. We can start canvasing as soon as we get there. Hopefully we can luck out this time and she’ll still be there. Bitch’s disappearing act if fuckin’ pissin’ me off.” Dean said, stuffing the last of his clothes into his duffle. Sam had done the same, finished before him in fact, but had made no indication that he planned on moving from the edge of the bed that took up the majority of the room.

There was only one bed because it seemed pointless to spend the extra cash to get one with doubles. They would end up in one or the other anyway. The last one had been a complete waste.

Dean had meant to keep driving until he found Lust and sent her back to hell. But when the road was starting to become a hazy blur in front of the Impala’s wheels and he was swerving his baby very close to the ditch in exhaustion, he pulled into an off the beaten path motel for the night.

Sam had startled awake in the back when Dean woke him and swayed sleepily into the lobby with his brother. Dean felt bad for having to wake him but knew that it wouldn’t do them any good if he crumpled into a heap in front of the door. The aging manager had looked at them with a slight quirk of a brow over coke bottle glasses like he didn’t believe him when he told him that he and his brother needed a room. He gave a gruff humph and handed Dean the keys, knowing from his many years in the dive motel business that it was best not to ask or saying thing.

The brothers didn’t speak as they trudged into the room, Sam still half asleep on autopilot and Dean focused on getting in a few hours to stay off collapsing before getting on the road again. The brother’s didn’t even bother unpacking. They just dropped their bags and went to their respective beds, falling into a fitful, false sleep.

It was in the dead of night that Sam apparently couldn’t take it anymore and crawled into Dean’s bed with an apology; whether it was for possibly waking or not staying in his own bed he wasn’t sure. Not that Dean was asleep or anything. His body practically hummed with being so close to Sam. It seemed that anytime he wasn’t touching Sam now his skin became hyperaware of this fact and felt the need to remind him where Sam was so he could fix it.

It was out of pride that he would refuse to give in. A sense of ‘ha-ha, take that bitch!’ when he would fight that burning desire that could cook his insides black. But when Sam slithered under the covers and wrapped his arms around Dean, like he was a living breathing security blanket, he couldn’t fight. He instantly felt at ease, the dull ache that seemed to pool in him whenever Sam wasn’t touching him finally stopping, and fell into a peaceful sleep that he hadn’t had in months.

If Dean ignored the heavy petting, the intimate touching, and the stolen deep kisses during sleep, he could almost remember a time when this happened more frequently. Times when John would be running low on funds and two beds were too much of a luxury. When the heating broke and the tiny space heater in the room did little to stay off the December cold that leaked through old window frames. When Sam would have a nightmare about thing, at the time, he thought weren’t real and wanted Dean to protect him.

The Sammy grew up. He learned that those things he feared were real and was trained to defeat them. Separate beds where always found with warm sleeping bags to cling to instead to warm bodies. Words like ‘inappropriate’ were used now instead of ‘cute’ when boys became young men. If Dean were being honest with himself, he missed that about their relationship. That closeness they shared when they were all the other needed and wanted. But when Sammy grew into Sam, he wanted other things. Like a normal life and college and a family that could be cut out of a Norman Rockwell painting. Things that Dean could never give him. So Dean let Sam leave to get those things he wanted at the cost of his own. Dean thinks he read a book to Sammy about that once, the ‘Giving Tree’ or something.

“If we luck out the bitch will be back in hell by lunch tomorrow.” Dean said, reloading his gun for another (hopefully) productive day. “Dude, are you listening to me?”

“What if we don’t get this fixed Dean?” Sam asked, completely ignoring Dean’s question and continuing to sit like a bump on a log. Dean stops his movements and looks seriously at Sam.

“You can’t think about that Sam.”

“I’m not. I’ve actually been thinking about what’s gonna happen when we get this fixed.” Sam finally looked up from staring at the faded carpet to Dean with blank hazel eyes. “What’s gonna happen Dean?”

Dean sighs and pulls his bag off the bed. Sam did always have a gift for pointing out the elephant in the room. “I don’t know Sam.” Dean replies sullenly, rubbing the back of his neck. He doesn’t know what to say and he doesn’t want to address the truth. The truth is that they can never be the same or normal again.

This isn’t like the other times that demons and the supernatural have made them hurt each other. The asylum incident in Illinois, Meg’s possession, the siren that almost made them kill each other, Ruby. All those things had eaten away at them, torn them apart. But after a while they came back together, like the jagged edges of paper, never like it was but still good. They did because they knew in the end they were brothers and they didn’t really hate each other, that they loved each other, and that they needed the other. But this time, the thing that was tearing them apart was the thing that healed them so many times in the past. They could get over the hate and the anger, but how did you get over love?

“We’ll just have to cross that bridge when we come to it. Right now, let’s focus on getting this fixed so we can get back to the way things should be.” Dean adds in an attempt to be optimistic.

Sam seems to want to say something, something important, but what comes out is, “Yeah, like they should be.” In a cross between sad and bitter, before he picks up his bag off the floor and is out the door.

Dean stares at the empty space in the door his brother used to fill. He thinks he should ask Sam what his problem is, but isn’t in the mood to deal with ‘bitch-Sam’ today. Instead he pulls his bag on to his shoulder too and heads out into the light of day.

*************

Dean isn’t happy. Sam isn’t happy. And by Dean’s estimate that if he isn’t happy and Sam isn’t happy, then nobody should be fucking happy. He just wants to drown this damn day in a large bottle of whiskey and forget all about it. Hopefully, that large bottle of whiskey he’s craving can help with that.

Canvassing had not gone as planned to say the least. The people in jail, or in the psych ward, were too busy to try and hump any solid object to give any credible leads. The police seemed to have their thumbs up their asses. And the ME had not explanation for the corpses in his morgue. Dead end after dead end had been the theme of the day for the Winchesters.

By the end of the day, the Winchester brothers had only found one tiny lead that could help them. A bar called Rosa’s near the edge of downtown. The place was a bit of a dive, but historic in that sense that almost everyone’s great-whatever got piss drunk and fell off one of the bar stools once upon a time. Aside from historic, it seemed that all the E-junkie crack heads seemed to have all visited one place.

The police had canvassed the area, but had found no credible leads. Of course that’s what happens when you don’t know what you’re looking for. So Sam and Dean headed there that night to check it out.

When they had walked into the bar, Sam instantly stalked off to the other side of the bar like Dean wasn’t even there. He was ignoring him. And it always hurt when Sam ignored him. Given the current circumstances through, it was killing him.

Dean couldn’t blame him though. He had no one to blame but himself. He was the one that blew up at Sam.

“Damnit Sam, stop it!” The man in question’s hand snapped back from Dean like he’d been burned. A startled look crossed his face as he looked at his brother in confusion.

“What?” Sam asked innocently.

“You know what Sam! We already talked about this. Rule number 4: no touching in public!” Dean snapped at him. He almost blew their cover in the morgue. The M.E had looked at them strangely as he tried to explain the cause of death in the six victims that graced his slabs. And who wouldn’t really. Two grown adult men, masquerading as FBI partners, fidgeting around like school children as Dean tried to remain professional and flinch away from Sam’s touchy-feely hands. And it hadn’t stopped there. It seemed that today Sam’s need to touch Dean had escalated to new heights. Everywhere they went, it didn’t matter the place, and people were staring. Who wouldn’t really? Sam was practically groping Dean’s ass constantly in public for Christ sakes!

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I…honestly didn’t notice” Sam answered bashfully.

“Bull shit Sam! How could you not notice your hand cupping my ass?!” Dean accused harshly. He knew he wasn’t being fair, but he was on a roll and couldn’t stop.

“I don’t know! Maybe it has something to do with Lust being here?!” Sam shot back, embarrassed and hurt by his brother’s harsh tone.

“You don’t see me trying to get in your pants every five seconds do ya!?” Dean retaliated.

“Look I said I’m sorry! It’s not like I’m in total control here! What do you want me to do Dean?!”

“Just stay away from me Sam!”

He hadn’t meant to say that.

Dean was just pissed….at everything right now. He had lost his temper, lashed out, and Sam was an easy, near target. All he wanted was to give that bitch a hot ticket to hell and get things back to the way they were. Was that so much to ask?

But what Sam had said earlier that day, and the thoughts that it brought up in Dean’s head, had struck a nerve. What if things didn’t or couldn’t go back to the way they were? What if that bond they had was ruined forever? What if Sam wanted to leave again after this? Dean wouldn’t want to stay with after all the things he had done. No matter how good it felt….

Dean tossed the shot from the bartender back and welcomed the whiskey burn. He scanned the room for Sammy, but couldn’t find his mop of hair. Figures, the onetime Sam’s height doesn’t make him stick out like a sore thumb is the time Dean is looking for him.

He wasn’t too worried about Sam. He could take care of himself. And it wasn’t like Sam could get that far. He still had to be within the bar, lest the side effect of Lust’s spell start to kick in. Still, not having Sam immediately by his side was awful. He always hated when Sam wasn’t near him, always wondered where he was and if he was ok and when he would come back; missed him even if that was the proper ‘girl’ word to use. Dean had always wanted Sam to be near him. To be the one person that would stay by his side. Nothing would ever change that. I should go apologize, Dean thought begrudgingly. He hated to have to apologize, but was comforted by the fact that Sam would always forgive him with that big heart of his.

“Hey there,” Dean turned to his left to see a perky, voluptuous brunette suddenly perched on the bar stool next to him.

“Oh...hey,” He replied, not sure, for the first time since he was about thirteen, what to say to the woman. She didn’t seem to notice. Her dark brown eyes still looking at him like he was a piece of meat and she was starving and about to rip into him with those shiny white teeth that made up her smile.

“I’m Sarah. I was wondering if you maybe wanted to have a drink together.” She offered, seeming to try for coy but coming off aggressive. Needy or slightly desperate might be a better description.

“That’s ok. I’m not really in the drinking with company mood.” Dean said dismissively. She wasn’t fazed.

“Well, maybe I could offer you something else. Maybe something a bit more private?” She said, seeming to throw caution and discretion out the window. Dean just looked at her blankly.

“I’m really not interested.” Surprisingly enough, Dean really wasn’t.

For the first time in a very, very long time Dean wasn’t interested in the random bar fly that landed on his arm. He didn’t want her and he didn’t understand why. She was pretty, bordering on gorgeous even, with her wavy black hair, big brown eyes, and smooth honey colored skin from her long legs to her manicured finger tips. She was willing, very willing judging by her body language and obvious hints. For all intents and purposes he should be interested, ecstatic even, that this woman was here. But he wasn’t.

All he kept thinking about when he looked at her was that her hair wasn’t right. It should be a bit shorter and not so dark. Her eyes weren’t right. They should be hazel. He shouldn’t be looking down at her. She should be taller. She shouldn’t be a girl. She should be Sam.

With that thought, Dean got up from his bar stool, no longer interested in his whiskey or his ‘company’. He halted abruptly when one of those well-manicured hands caught his arm as he walked past. “Come on! I…I really just…I can’t explain it, I just….! God, I need someone! I need you!” Dean’s personal space was suddenly filled with a busty brunette. Her speed nowhere near hindered by her bulky, red platform heels and seeming hell bent on kissing the day lights out of him.

Dean, too startled to react, just let himself be kissed. He didn’t reciprocate, couldn’t. All he could think about while this strange woman kissed and tongued the inside of his mouth desperately was ‘I don’t feel anything. This isn’t good. This is awful. I feel sick. She doesn’t kiss like Sam. Sam kisses way better than her. I want to be kissing Sam.’

He came to the conclusion that he should probably get her off but the decision was made for him. A firm, large hand grabbed his shoulder and Dean stumbled back from the sudden yank that dislodged him from the needy girl. Dean half expected to meet the face of some angry boyfriend when he was roughly turned around. What he found though surprised him.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Sam yelled. His face stricken in anger as his narrowed eyes darted from Dean’s shocked face to the daze woman not two feet away. “This is what you call finding a lead?!”

“Hey, he’s mine! I saw him first!” The female brunette shrieked, but clamed up when those intense hazel eyes focused on her. She lets out a gasp and her legs began to tremble, from fear or something else neither was sure. Sam, however, didn’t care. He grabbed Dean by the bicep and hulled his older brother haphazardly out of the bar while Dean tripped over his feet to keep up.

************

The air outside the bar was cold. The back of the bar reeked of trash, stale beer, and gasoline. The sound of cars echoed off the high brick walls of the alley the back exit led to. The location had been selected specifically because it was easy to bring new supplies in and kick belligerent drunks and brawlers out. So when the flimsy metal door smacked against the brick no one paid attention.

“What the hell man?!” Dean yelled, stumbling to keep his balance when Sam practically threw him into the alley. “What’s your problem?!”

“My problem?! What’s your problem?! What the fuck were you thinking swappin’ spit with some bar slut?!” Sam yelled back, eyes narrowed and sneering angrily at the other man. Dean glared back.

“Hey, she came on to me! I didn’t do anything!” Dean defended. Sam scoffed.

“Oh yeah, I saw that. You just let yourself be orally molested by that skank! You sure as hell ‘didn’t do anything’ to stop her!”

“Why the fuck should I?!” Dean bellowed back, but had the air knocked out of him right after as he was pinned to the brick behind him by a large, menacing man.

“Because you belong to me damnit! And I’m not sharing, not anymore!” Sam hissed dangerously, his breath washing over Dean’s face, before he kissed him brutally on the mouth.

Dean was frozen for a moment. He just stood there, wide eyed, and let his mouth be aggressively assaulted by the agile tongue that had invaded. Then his brain kicked started again and he tried to push Sam off, fight back, but for only a moment. Then he gave in to those bruising lips with a heated moan at their mercy.

Dean remembers once that he had told Sam that he got all tingly when Sam took control. Back then it had been a joke. Now, he was dead serious. He was almost glad that Sam was still holding him pinned against the wall. He was pretty sure his legs would have buckled completely without the support. His body was incredibly hot. Everywhere Sam touched seemed to burn. Bolts of lightning struck him where ever Sam’s hands lay and he seemed to be touching everywhere. Dean couldn’t be sure. He was certain his brain had short circuited.

He’d never felt this way. Not with anyone, well anyone but Sam. This was intense. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t breathe. Maybe that had something to do with the fact that Sam wouldn’t stop kissing him long enough to breathe.

Then suddenly, Sam was gone. Dean was damn near ready to cry, though he would deny it adamantly, but never got the chance to process the momentary absence fully.

“Hey what the-” Dean’s sentence was cut short when the air was knocked out of him and his face was planted against the brick wall once at his back.

“You know, I’ve been thinking Dean, maybe you wouldn’t be such an ass sometimes if yours got a good pounding every once in a while.” Sam said in a husky, dark tone. The smirk on his lips was obvious in his voice.

Dean’s eyes grew wide at the realization of what Sam had planned. He started to squirm and fight again, but Sam held fast. “Shhh….calm down, it’ll be ok.” Sam said, the cockiness seeming to fade.

“No Sam! Let me go!” Dean yelled back over his shoulder at his younger brother. Sam seemed to ignore him and began pressing warm, wet kisses on Dean’s neck. Dean stopped squirming for a moment, distracted by the hot kisses. It probably didn’t help that one of those large hands had somehow snaked to his front and cupped his crotch.

Dean bit his lip to the point of blood to not moan out loud. He could….he couldn’t want this. No! Dean wasn’t gay! Yeah, he had maybe…thought about it. But he wasn’t gay! This had to be the curse messing with his head. It was the only reason he could think that he was even entertaining the idea!

“I want you Dean. I need you. I want you the way you have me. I….I just need you so much. I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you. Please.” For someone who seemed to be in control here, Sam’s voice was horribly close to begging. It was like it hurt him how much he needed Dean.

Dean was scared to admitted, but he needed Sam too.

He thinks he gives a shaky nodded, unable to speak under the assault of kissing and touching, to give Sam the ok.

For a moment, Sam seemed ecstatic. Like this big weight had been lifted off of him and this need his stifled, if only a little, with Dean’s consent. His free hand cups Dean’s chin to tilt his head back and devours his mouth.

The hand cupping his crotch snakes into his pants and starts to pistoning around his hard on. Dean thinks that he shouldn’t be enjoying this so much. He’s never even thought about doing this with another man. But God, it feels so good!

He knows that he’s moaning like a prostitute from the street corner right about now, but he can’t help it. He just decides to stop fighting. He can’t fight against these feelings inside him. He can’t fight against the want and the need. He can’t fight against Sam. He could never fight Sam.

Dean feels two fingertips pressed gently to his lips and he wonders for a second if Sam is trying to tell him to stay quiet. Sam must have seen the confusion on his face because he leans in close and whispers, “Suck,” low by his ears. Dean moans wantonly before he does what he’s asked. He sucks Sam's fingers deep into his mouth, swirls his tongue around them, to slick them up as best he can. He goes off of instinct and what his former bed mates have done in the past. He must have done well, because Sam shivers a little and moans at the image he must be presenting. He’s a little ashamed to admit it, but it turns him on too.

Dean moans in protest around the fingers when the hand down his pants stops stroking him but corrects it when it undoes his jeans. The denim sags and Sam pushes it down to his knees. The fingers in Dean’s mouth are pulled out with a wet pop and Dean’s a little ashamed to admit that he whines when they are.

Dean opened his mouth to speak, ask what was wrong, but the words died in his throat when a spit wet finger pressed inside him.

It doesn’t hurt. Then again, he doesn’t expect it to. He’s done this part before, when he was alone and curious about some gossip a drunk friend had let slip out when they were trading sex stories. It had been ok. He didn’t get the hype. He’s almost about to tell Sam to give it up. This isn’t for him, even if it feels good. Then Sam hits something. Something inside him just cuts everything out, like the button on a remote, and Dean moans were so loud that he’s actually embarrassed. He suddenly gets what all the hype’s about and he wants it so bad!

His skin flushes bright red and he’s panting in between loud moans. Dean’s body thrashes and he’s rocking back against Sam as his body rocks back and another finger goes inside. Dean’s body is burning up with the need to have Sam fuck him. He knows that he should quiet down, stop wanting this, stop practically fucking himself on the two or three fingers that are in him now, but he doesn’t care. He just wants more. He wants this more than he’s ever wanted anything in his life and can’t seem to stop himself from thinking This is Sam, this is Sam, oh God this is Sam! And he doesn’t feel bad about it.

The fingers are removed and Dean whimpers a little, something else he’ll later deny. He doesn’t have to wait long before something else is replacing the fingers, something wider and harder and hot. Dean’s eyes widen to the size of saucers and the natural reaction to pull away and fight kicks it. Sam’s free arm wrapped around Dean’s waist and pulled him back away from the wall while holding him still. “Dean, Dean Stop! I’m trying to make this good for you, okay? I can’t do this if your thrashing.” Sam says and it’s something in his voice that calms Dean down. “Do…Do you want me to stop?” Even though Sam asks, it’s obvious that he wants Dean to say no. Almost like when you ask someone if they want the last cookie. You do it to be polite, but silently pray they say no. Dean almost lets out a ‘yes’ without thinking, but something catches his attention. Sam is shaking. He’s trembling really with the sheer force of will it takes to not pound Dean into the wall like an animal. He doesn’t want to hurt Dean, he really doesn’t. It’s a small comfort to Dean that he’s trying so hard to make him feel good at the cost of his own.

And it’s only fair really. Dean’s been taking advantage of Sam’s ass from the get go, and only recently started trading blow jobs with Sam instead of just getting him (he’s still a little weirded out that he’s not weirded out about that and actually turned on). He figures it’s his turn after all the times Sam’s bent over and taken it over the past couple days.

“No, it…it’s ok Sam.” Dean’s voice cracks a little when he speaks but knows Sam needs to hear him say it. There’s a small sigh from Sam, in relief possibly, followed by a nod. He pulls Dean’s hips towards him a little more, something he’s not happy about. He’s not really comfortable with his hands pressed against the brick while his hips stick out at a 45 degree angle like he’s about to be stripped searched. But….he wants this and it scares him. He still thinks that he shouldn’t want this and that it’s wrong, but he can’t…stop. Stop wanting this, stop wanting Sam. But these doubts pale in comparison to the lust that burns inside him and he forces himself to hold still while Sammy lines up and pushes in.

It doesn’t hurt like Dean expects. Which is good, he’s glad for that, ecstatic really. The physics of it had him worried. It still burns thought and feels really awkward. But….it’s good though. Maybe good wasn’t the right word, but Dean could handle this. He realizes that it’s been a while before anything happens and it dawns on him that Sam must be waiting for him. Dean looks over his shoulder, catches those intense hazel eyes drugged out with lust, and he nods for Sam to continue.

Sam’s thrusts are slow and deliberate, obviously giving Sam time to adjust to this new act that their sharing. It takes all of Sam’s will power not to go faster. He wants this to be good for Dean, but he’s so damn tight and feels so damn good that Sam is scared that he will actually die for the intense pleasure of finally being inside Dean gives him.

After some slow stead thrust, Dean starts to relax and react. He pushes back some and moans as the intrusion become pleasurable. He finally gets what the hype about this is about. The brothers begin to pant as the pace picks of. Their clothes almost suffocating with the heat that’s coursing through them, but what can you do? It’s one of the draw backs of having sex in a public place.

Sam shifts just a little. The angle change allows his cock to hit Dean’s prostate every thrust, and it’s more than Dean can stand. “Oh God Sam, more! Give it to me! I need…oh god so fucking good! Jesus, fuck me! Harder! Please, please, Sam!” Later, when this is all over, Dean will deny that he said any of these things even when anyone in a three block radius could hear. He’ll say it was the curse that made him do it. That it wasn’t him that begs his little brother to fuck him harder against the rough brick while he rocked against his fist. But right now, he doesn’t care. Nothing else matters, and Dean is shameless in his need.

“Oh God Dean! Dean! I can’t believe….God I can’t believe this! Wanted to do this so much! I need you so much. Want you. Love you.” Sam’s mouth is spilling out words that he barely realizes are leaving or understands. Dean does though. A shock goes through him as his whole body stiffens and the wall in front of him is painted white with his cum. Behind him, Sam groans and climaxes. Dean moans some, a little grossed out and turned on by the warm, sticky substance flowing into him.

For a moment, they stand still, trying to adjust to the real world and catch their breath again. “You ok?” Sam asks after a while, a slight pant still in his voice.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Get off me ok.” Dean says gruffly and groans when Sam’s weight leaves his back and his cock dislodges from his ass. Sam tucks himself back into his jeans and rearranges his shirt and hair. Dean moves to pull up his pants, but winces slightly in the process. His ass hurts now that he’s not blinded by lust and endorphins. “Are you sure you’re ok?”

“Geez, Sam, I’m not a girl! I’ll be fine, it won’t kill me!” Dean retorts, trying to make a show that he’s fine.

“It’s just that…I know it hurts the first time and I didn’t want to…..” Sam’s voice his sheepish and there is a blush on his cheeks.

“Course you did Sammy, and don’t worry you didn’t hurt me.” Dean says with a cocky smirk almost like he was the one doing the fucking. “Let’s get out of here. This place sticks. Plus, I’m hungry, need a shower, and need to put a cap in some bitch’s ass.” He continues with typical Dean bravado. Sam smiles slightly and nods, following Dean out of the alley a few steps behind.

No longer under scrutiny, Dean’s face walks. His legs and ass do hurt, a lot really, and there is a suspicion substance trying to escape down his legs. But that doesn’t bother Dean. He can handle all that. What he can’t handle is the words playing in his head. “Need you. Want you. Love you.” Sammy, you can’t say things like that now man…..

I would like to thank everyone again for their patients in the very slow updating. I apologize again. Any feedback would be loved and appreciated (constructive critics only please)

Also, if you have some free time, go vote for me on DeviantArt in the ObscureandForbidden fangroup Halloween Contest. I’m number 3! (It’s the Hallo-Wincest story for those of you that have read it). Here is the link to the voting page where the rules can be found (just remove all of the spaces. Had to put them in for the link to show up) Thanks for reading!!

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Lust for Revenge