The soft and warm sensation enveloped Winchester's skin, comforting yet unsettling. He wanted to turn away, but as he shifted, he couldn't help but inhale sharply— the girl's teeth dug into the wound once more, tearing apart the fragile flesh.
Pearl-white earlobes tinged with a hint of blood.
"Winchester..."
Margaret's voice was like honey laced with poison, "Do you want it?"
She tasted his blood, her gaze lingering on his perfect profile. Beneath his composed exterior, her brother was anything but calm; the tightness of his lips and the stiffness of his body betrayed his suppressed emotions.
"...Stop joking," Winchester spoke, repeating the words, "I'm your blood-bound brother."
What brother would spy on his sister making love with another man? And what brother would rinse his sister's body with a hose, using a soft shirt to wipe her intimate fluids?
