Written for thenyxie. Babe, you have no idea how flattered I was that out of all the offers thrown your way in that post, you accepted mine.

Title: Bless Me Father, For I Have Sinned...
Characters: Dean/Castiel/Sam
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2015
Disclaimer: Insert standard admission here, that I am only torturing and abusing these boys for the public good.
Author's Notes: Set approximately six weeks after "Lucifer Rising". Sam hasn't been able to shake what happened, and is slipping into a deep and profound depression. Dean does what he can to help, but eventually Sam starts looking to a higher authority for absolution.
Tags: Bondage, D/s, minor blood play, m/m, voyeurism, overtones of priest!kink. The only thing we don't have yet is the Wincest, and that's happening in some later stuff I'm going to post. Yes, I've already written my first actual Wincest...aren't you proud, Nyx? *g*
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He wields the lash with a practiced hand. Even though this body was never intended to be his, Castiel knows that some skills transcend simple muscle memory. He moves with confidence around his target, striking with an inhuman precision at irregular intervals. The goal here is to cut, to hurt, to bleed – not to destroy.

Sam… kneeling naked on the carpet in front of him. His own hand fisted in Sam’s hair, forcing him to look up – to see and accept the truth of what he’s been praying for. “Forgiveness does not come without confession of your sins, Sam Winchester. True absolution comes at an even higher price to the soul.”

He had known immediately he would need a blindfold. Those dark hazel eyes – so vulnerable, so trusting in the face of Heaven’s wrath – would otherwise be his undoing.

Memory of how close he’d come to taking full advantage of Sam’s submission in that first insane moment makes him falter his next stroke. He lowers the whip, using the pretense of checking his handiwork in order to not panic Dean.

He glances across the room, where Sam’s brother sits watching them. True to his word, Dean has not left his chair once – not given any hint to Sam that he is even in the room.

His presence here is a calculated risk. The truths Castiel has beaten out of Sam so far have been ugly and painful – raw, festering wounds much deeper than the slashes he has carved in Sam’s back over the last hour and a half.

Before they can begin to truly heal, however, Sam will need forgiveness. And for all his talk of Divine Absolution, Castiel knows that in the end the only forgiveness that will matter comes from Dean.

As always, Dean’s attention is laser focused on his brother. Castiel has already seen a full range of emotions cross his face – worry, fear, anger and love. More than once Dean has wiped away silent tears, as he bears witness to the profound self-hatred that has been allowed to grow unchecked in his brother’s soul.

He is not the only one who weeps tonight. Castiel knows if he touches the dark cloth covering Sam’s eyes, it will be damp.

He decides he doesn’t trust himself that far. Instead he coils the whip, slowly and deliberately, watching Sam’s reactions and using the time and activity to try and master his own.

Sam is clearly exhausted – not quite limp against the cuffs binding his arms overhead, but close. His skin is flushed, shining with sweat, and fine tremors are starting to shiver their way across his shoulders. Castiel looks him over, top to bottom, pausing only briefly at his cock – which, contrary to all reason and sense, is hard.

“This is not some game you and your brother play for your mutual gratification. You are bending your knee to Heaven now, begging me to punish you in His name.”

He knows what they do when they’re alone – knows how they share their feelings and their need. He closes his eyes, swaying slightly on his feet as the mingled scents of Sam’s fear and arousal crawl inside him...take root low in his body. Castiel knows this isn’t supposed to be about his weakness, and how Sam Winchester tempts him so deeply. This is about Sam and Dean – seeing them whole – and what is being asked of him in the here and now.

He knows all of this, and in a tiny hidden corner of his heart, he is still afraid.

“If I agree to this, you will be confessed in the old way. You will place yourself entirely at my mercy. You will be stripped bare, inside and out, and I will have all your secrets before we finish.”

Sam has done everything required of him, and Castiel knows in the depth of his soul that will be the end of him.

He is jolted suddenly out of his musings by the realization that there is a drop of blood hanging unbroken at the corner of Sam’s mouth – shining dark red against the swell of his lip. Running everything back in his mind, Castiel realizes the injury must have happened early on, when Sam was struggling not to cry out under the strokes of the whip. He feels a rush of self-recrimination. It shouldn’t have happened.

He reaches up with a finger, intending only to brush the offending droplet away. What happens next is beyond anything he could have expected. Sam’s entire body comes alive, mouth open and gasping at the feather-light brush against his lips. Entranced, Castiel watches him for a second, then traces two fingertips lightly across Sam’s tongue.

Sam reacts immediately, closing his lips on Castiel’s fingers and sucking them deep into his mouth. The sensation is amazing, sending an explosion of pleasurable nervous shocks racing through his body. Without fully realizing what he’s doing, Castiel begins sliding his fingers in and out of Sam’s mouth.
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Okay, that was…unexpected.

Unexpected, but not unwelcome if Sam’s reaction is any indication. His brother is leaning forward, straining against his bonds, eagerly deep-throating Cas’s fingers. After the better part of an hour and a half listening to Sam’s self-hatred being literally beaten out of him, the shift is jarring.

And, if Dean is being perfectly honest with himself…really hot.

Cas continues fucking Sam’s mouth with his fingers, and Sam is obviously more than happy to let him do it. Dean’s breath quickens, and he shifts in his chair to a more comfortable position. His dick is already painfully hard, and these weren’t his best fitting jeans to begin with.

After what seems like an eternity, Cas pulls out. Sam leans forward, chasing after his fingers for a moment, before relaxing, and accepting that the game has changed. Dean swallows, not daring to believe Cas will go there, and knowing that if the angel won’t do it – he will. He’s right there, practically begging for it!

Castiel shifts position, reaching behind Sam. One look at his brother’s face is all Dean needs to confirm that yes, Cas is going there. Even with the blindfold in place, Dean knows that look – knows the moment when Cas has buried those same two fingers in Sam’s ass.

Mentally throwing up his hands, Dean decides ‘screw the plan’ – there’s no way he’s going to just sit here and do nothing while Castiel does that.

As quietly as he can, Dean undoes his fly and pulls out his cock – already hard and aching as a result of the scene playing out in front of him. Sam is moaning loudly now, moving in time with each thrust of Cas’s fingers. Dean can almost picture it – he doesn’t dare move to a better vantage point for confirmation, but if he could he knows Castiel is working Sam achingly slow. Stretching him, probing him – finding just the right spots and stroking them over and over.

Dean palms the head of his cock, working himself until his hand is slick with precum. By the time Cas picks up his pace, Dean is running his fist up and down the length of his shaft, fighting the urge to go over to the two of them and finish Sam off himself. He licks his lips and jacks himself faster, the sight of Sam burning into his brain – blindfolded…helpless…desperately fucking air as his body searches for a release.

Lost in his own building orgasm, it takes Dean a moment to realize Castiel is busy undoing his own pants, as he continues pegging Sam’s ass with his fingers. As the pieces come together, Dean nearly loses his mind.

They’ve shared women, plenty of times. He’s seen Sam in every stage of sexual arousal, fucked him more times and in more ways than either of them wants to remember, and he’s never, even in his darkest fantasies, envisioned the truth of this. Fingers curl around Sam’s hips, dig in so hard Dean’s sure there are going to be bruises, and that first thrust is literally the hottest thing he’s ever seen in his life. Castiel takes Sam in one long, deep, impossibly graceful motion – Dean’s dick twitches in sympathy as Sam screams his gratitude and relief.

Dean forces himself to slow down. A little finger play is one thing – he would have happily gotten off on that and gone on about his day. This? This is an order of magnitude more fucked up, and he's determined to enjoy every last minute of it.
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Castiel has to pause a moment after his first thrust to catch his breath. His fingers clench around Sam’s hip bones, pressing dimples into the smooth skin, finding his purchase. His own hips are locked in against Sam’s ass, and his dick feels like it’s about to explode. In two thousand years, he has never dreamed anything could feel as good as this.

Bracing himself, Castiel rocks his hips down and back, pulling away in a smooth, steady motion. The reaction from Sam is immediate – moans of pleasure that tighten areas low in his body.

As he fucks him, Castiel’s attention is drawn to the latticework of slashes he’s made on Sam’s back – some of them still weeping blood. Leaning in, he blows across one, and is rewarded when Sam whimpers aloud at the sensation. He smiles, realizing that he likes it when Sam whimpers - more than any of the other sounds he’s heard him make tonight. Giving in to an impulse, Castiel runs the tip of his tongue along the length of one of the other stripes, tasting the metallic tang of blood. Sam jerks, pushing his hips back more forcefully than before.

Castiel spends some time then, exploring his handiwork - remembering each of Sam’s responses to the different stimuli, filing them away…for what? he wonders.

Finding no easy answers to the question, he banishes it from his thoughts - quickening his pace and settling firmly back into the here and now. Sam is tight around his cock…so hot…oh God…setting up his own counter-rhythm now, and Castiel is overwhelmed by how good it feels.

Inexperienced as he is, some instinct left over from his human host starts whispering to him that he can’t keep this up much longer. Glancing past Sam’s shoulder, he sees Dean stroking his own cock. His face is a mirror, reflecting back to Castiel the effect he is having on Sam.

What he sees decides him. He releases one of Sam’s hips, threads fingers through sweat-soaked, tangled locks of hair…jerks up hard. Sam whimpers once, and goes still under the angel’s grip. Castiel has been an efficient teacher tonight, and Sam a willing and attentive student.

“Ask me.”

He doesn’t have to explain – the litany bursts out of Sam without hesitation. “Please Cas. Oh God, please. I need to come so bad – please let me come, oh God, Cas…please.” Castiel can’t be sure, but he thinks Sam might be crying again.

He glances quickly at Dean for confirmation. Dean’s mouth is slack, and his green eyes have gone glassy with lust. His fist is a blur across the skin of his cock. “Do it,” he mouths, still retaining enough presence of mind to not betray himself to Sam.

Tightening his grip, Castiel reaches around, grabs Sam’s cock and strokes outward. The response is immediate and electric – a long, ragged scream of pleasure, as Sam locks up against his restraints. Castiel is slamming his hips into Sam now – Sam’s cock heavy and warm in his fist. He squeezes his eyes shut, grabbing desperately for that bright shining point of release.

They come together, he and Sam, and it is a moment of ecstasy like nothing Castiel can reliably remember. The world bleeds away in a wash of white, and the force of his orgasm staggers him. Sam’s dick twitches and spasms in his grip, spilling hot, thick liquid over his fist. It is a moment Castiel knows on some level lasts only half a dozen heartbeats, but to his physical body it seems to stretch on for a lifetime.

Across the room, Dean has gone rigid – thick ropes of come shooting out from the end of his cock.

Sam isn’t the only one screaming anymore.