#brian original sin

[maisieisdeadd]

pairing: os!brian moser x little sister

cw: incest, weed intox, slightly rough sex

Little sister is minding her business in her room. Her brother Brian is deep in his killing urges, leaving bodies for Dexter to find. But his needs are… evolving. He comes into her room without knocking, something she is used to by now. Ever since they got adopted, the Woods siblings were suddenly privileged enough to have locks.

Brian silently clicks the lock into place, his little sister oblivious to him as she works on her calculus homework. She’s got the textbook open, her notes pulled apart, her ipad open to her uni’s dashboard. Her calculator is pink, and so is her highlighter, and all of her notebooks. Her pencil is black, as are her pajamas.

Her black frilly shorts ride up her ass and show off the curve that drives her big brother insane. The black sweater lays loose around her curvy waist. She kicks her feet while she works through an equation, her frilly socks bunched around her ankles.

Brian sits down across from her, leaning against the headboard like he owned the place. She just rolls her eyes and continues her work until he zeros in on the pretty pink vape sitting next to her phone. He snatches it up before she can react and gives her a predatory look. “What the fuck is this, baby sister?”

Her reflex is to lunge forward to try and wrestle the vape back from him, but he knows her. His arm is already sky high and out of her reach. ”Give it back!” She whisper-yells, not wanting Mom to hear them.

“Don’t tell me my sister’s a stoner?” Brian’s eyes seem to light up at the idea. She blushes deep but doubles down.

“Oh, don’t tell me my brother’s a serial killer.” She snarks back to him, shutting her books and practically shoving them into her bag so she can cross the bed to his lap and reach up to snatch her favorite toy from his hands.

“It’s not the same.” Brian only smirks, his hands coming down to settle on her hips. “Take a hit.” He murmurs. His voice is so low, breathy as his sister sits in his lap.

The girl’s thumb runs across the cherries she painted on it, the pink rhinestones soothing her nerves. Her glossy lips nestle against the tip of the vape. She takes a deep breath in, a long burst of cherry gelato vapor filling her lungs. Her big brother slides a hand up to rest on her shoulder, a shit eating grin on his face. “You like smoking that thing, huh? C’mon sis, show me.”

Already a few deep hits deep, she can already feel the bliss from the cannabis and tries to maintain her composure. He squeezes her shoulder as she takes a big hit. A cloud blows out and swirls up into the ceiling fan. She feels a bit dizzy as she looks at how much she has left; nearly a gram.

“Again.” Her brother orders her. Another big hit, this one making her eyes roll as she holds it in. Her hips twitch against the bed. She’s practiced, but this many in a row makes her start to cough. She holds back two but the noise escapes her anyway. And then her head whips to the side, knocking the breath from her sore lungs. She feels the contact of his hand against her face before she hears the slap, cruel enough to shock her out of the coughing fit. It made her cunt clench more than she expected. “Be quiet. Keep coughing and Mom’s gonna come to check on you, stupid.”

Between swallowed coughs, “I’ll tell her you hit me if you tell on me, Biney.” His cock has never been harder. He grips her face by the chin a little rougher than necessary. His brown eyes are wide with desire, an intense focus on her that she’s not used to.

“I would never tell on you, angel.”

She takes another hit, sucking on the vape over and over in short puffs. The girl squeezes her thighs together, trying to remember how to breathe. Brian brushes the hair from his baby sister’s face, his touch gentle compared to the rough slap earlier. “Again. Keep going, baby.” The girl’s eyelids flutter as she sucks down as much as she can. She doesn’t notice when Brian unbuckles his belt and pulls out his dick. His hand drifts down to cradle her throat.

Before he can squeeze, his innocent little sister is mewling in his grip, her cheek flush from his love tap. He can’t help but to test her limits, to try and take as much as he can get from her. “You gonna be good for your big brother?” He strokes his cock to the sight of her. “You gonna let me play with you?”

”Uhm… maybe,” she giggles, nuzzling against Brian’s shoulder. She takes another few long hits from her pink vape, tipping her head up and blowing a thick cloud into Brian’s face. He grunts and squeezes the hand around her throat, slapping her a little harder this time. It makes her head spin, her cunt clench. “Feels good, Biney…”

“Yeah, kiddo?” Brian is breathless at how far she’s letting him take this. Her eyes close and she whimpers a nod. Her hips move without shame now against the air, and brian immediately tugs her to lay beside him so he can get his fingers down her panties. “Fuck, I can feel how wet you are for me. Bet you’d slip right down my cock like you were made for it.”

His hand around her throat guides her up and onto his lap properly, using both hands to viciously yank off her black panties. “You’re so pretty, angel. Think you can take all of me, kiddo?” Brian knows his cock is impressive, but his baby sister will take it, he’ll force her to. He lines up with her wet little cunt and lowers her by the throat. Her eyes roll as his cock sinks further and further inside her. She can’t help the long moan that leaves her. Brian lifts the vape to her lips and she takes a deep pull. Not a single thought of resistance on the pretty girl’s mind.

She lifts up her shirt to show off her little tits and blows the smoke over them with a giggle. Her hips are rocking on their own as soon as he bottoms out inside her. ”F-fuck, Biney” she whines, pulling off her shirt entirely. His hands rove across her bare skin. Seeing her like this, bare for him, taking all of him, it feeds some dark part of himself. “So d-deep,”

”Yeah, angel, you’re taking it so well.” Brian grunts into her hair, inhaling deep. “This little cunt was made for your brother’s cock. Fuck, take another hit baby, sink deeper. Don’t think too much about it.” His cock is hitting the deepest parts of her, the thick head rubbing deliciously against her cervix. She moans as her lips curls around the vape and she inhales deeply.

She’s surprised when Brian takes the vape and pulls a long hit for himself. He holds it down and blows it into her face, a cruel smile on his pretty lips. He lifts it back to her mouth and thrusts his hips up into her sharply, drawing sharp ‘aah’s from his sweet girl.

His hand clamps down over her mouth and he yanks her closer to growl in her face. “Be quiet. Wouldn’t want Mom to hear how much of a slut you are for me.” Her eyes roll back and she’s cumming. Brian’s not far behind her, his thrusts deep and hard as he buries his seed where it’s always belonged. “I plan to fuck this cunny over and over again, baby. Fuck, your big brother can’t get enough of you.”

[maisieisdeadd]

pairing: brian moser x little sister

cw: incest, dubcon, weed intox,

Brian sneaks into his baby sister’s room as soon as their adoptive parents leave the house. He’s got at least a few hours to have his girl any way he wants.

What he finds is a stoned kiddo scrolling on her phone in her dim room. He wastes no time kneeling behind her and pulling the blanket off. She groans in protest, but makes no move to stop him. She barely even glances away from her phone.

His hands are rubbing circles into her ass cheeks while he peels off another black thong, this one lacy and just as soaked as yesterdays. When Brian snaps in front of her face and raises an eyebrow for an explanation, she only shrugs. “Was thinking ‘bout you…”

”This is all for me kiddo?” Brian swears he’s in love with her. He rubs the head of his cock against her cunny and she squirms away from him. This makes him frown and tighten his grip on her hips so she can’t go anywhere.

“Brian, stop, it’s gross when i’m not high enough” she whines, taking a deep hit of her cherry pink vape. She holds it and pushes at his legs to put some space between them. “You’re my brother.”

”And you’re my girl.” Brian growls in response, reaching forward to grip her chin and forces her to look at him. “You’re my girl.”

”No, Brian—“ He’s not listening, just climbing on top of her and trying to push his cock inside. She struggles and tries to push him away which only makes Brian want it even more. A thrill rushes through his blood that he normally only gets when he’s killing. He likes the struggle.

And she likes putting up a fight. She’s flipped to face him, her nails digging into his chest. Brian has to hold her down and slap her until she freezes, and he’s finally able to stretch that sweet pussy with his cock again. “Shhh, just take another hit, Angel. Keep smoking until it feels right again.”

Her cunny is so tight around him as she is fucked against her will, but it feels way too good for her big brother to care about her pain. He can see her struggling to take the full length of him and it makes him feel powerful. Like he was the hunter, and she was his prey.

It was a turn on, watching her flinch every time he bottomed out against her, hearing her whimper between puffs, feeling her body reacting to him. He loved every second, and he adored his girl.

She never told their parents. He didn’t know why. Maybe it was embarrassment, maybe mutual blackmail material, or maybe his little sister liked the attention from her big brother.

Brian started coming to her room every night. Every night, he folded her into a new position whether she wanted to or not. In fact, he hoped she’d fight him, at least in the beginning. Until he takes it from her. Until she gives it to him.

He made her try all sorts of weird positions he learned from porn, and learned which ones he liked. Which ones she liked. He liked finishing inside her; he liked the way she looked when he did it. He liked that she didn’t have any other choice but to let him use her in any way he wanted.

He especially liked when she would shudder and give in, reaching for her brother to comfort her, to hold her, to murmur sweet words to her as she takes him so perfectly, takes his cum so willingly.

After all, if she didn’t want it she could have locked her door to keep him out. The girl liked her big brother’s nighttime visits maybe more than he does. She keeps her vape in bed with her, and just pulling on it sends jolts to her cunny, her mind replaying all the ways Brian’s used her, claimed her.

When their parents went out for brunch Saturday morning, Brian came into his sister’s room and did something new. He nestled himself between her legs, going down on her. She had come countless times on his fat cock, but holy shit. The way Biney bites into the skin of her thigh, his long tongue filling her, his pretty mouth suckling on her clit. She came harder on his tongue. And harder still on his fingers next. Brian was hungry for his own special brunch. It was a long morning…

[maisieisdeadd]

hiii

its my blog

ur favorite vampire little sister

heres my writing

original sin dexter:

- dexter making his twin sister watch him jerk off

- dexter found weed brownies

original sin brian:

- brian finds his sister’s weed

- brian can’t get enough of his sister

- college party gone wrong

dexter morgan:

-

brian moser:

-

[maisieisdeadd]

pairing: OS!Brian Moser x Little Sister

cw: drunk SA, brian kills people, dexter pov at the end, not smut this is “plot”

After Brian reluctantly took his little sister to a college party, he loses her within the hour.

She was stuck to his hip like twenty minutes ago. As he led her through the crowded frat house, he chuckled to himself at how close she made herself. “Relax, little sister. Let me get you a drink. You’ve earned it, after acing your anatomy exam.” Brian pressed a kiss to her hand before dragging her towards the kitchen. Thankfully, he found his college friends lingering around the island. The only four people he speaks to, they’re all premed like him, like both of them.

The girl nods and smiles, allowing herself to get excited when he places a cup of punch in her hands, then gives her a heavy pour of cheap rum. She laughs and lifts her cup to toast against Brian’s beer. They both take a deep sip, his little sister coughing a little at how strong the drink is. She slams the empty cup on the counter and smirks proudly. All gone. Brian is impressed.

Her big brother pours her another. Two girls approach her, squealing and pulling her into a hug—her best friends, one a cannabis student and the other her lab partner in Mortuary. They encourage her to go dance with them, and when she looks at him for permission, doe eyes wide and hopeful, of course he nodded with a smile and told her to go.

While he talked with his friends about their prosthetics final project, he could hear his sister’s laughter every once in a while. It soothed his nerves, which begin to prickle the longer he goes without seeing her.

He’s onto his fourth beer as he finally looks around for his sister in the crowded frat house. His friends are all laughing around him, but there’s no sign of her on the dance floor anymore. He murmured a quick bathroom excuse and set out to find her.

He checks both of the downstairs bathrooms. He opened the door on a couple fucking in one, and a group of three girls in the other. None of them being his little sister. He takes a deep swig from his drink and takes the stairs up two at a time.

At the top of the stairs, the air feels different.

Thicker, stale beer and marijuana smoke filling the hazy hallway. Laughter drifts down the hallway in uneven bursts, doors half shut, music leaking through the walls in dull thumps. Brian slows, scanning as he moves, trained eyes looking for details most people miss.

A pair of heels abandoned near a bench, a purse underneath like someone kicked it there. His jaw tightens.

He tries the first door on the left, locked. He knocks and a grouchy frat boy opens the door with a glare. “I’m trying to study, my room is not for fucking!” And he slams the door in Brian’s face. The killer can only chuckle; he got a good enough look at the dorm that he knows his sister isn’t in there.

The second door opens to a crowded room, bodies pressed together, red cups everywhere. This is where that deep thumping music was coming from—a party within a party. Someone offers him a cup but he raises his beer instead, closing the door behind him. He doesn’t bother looking closely: she’s not here. She would’ve seen him by now.

The third door opens quietly, no music, no laughter. His eyes immediately zero in on his sister on the bed. For half a second, his mind refuses to process it. She’s sprawled wrong, limbs heavy and loose, head turned to the side. Her dress is riding up her thighs, straps slipping off her shoulders like they’ve been yanked too many times. She’s clearly out, and he holds his breath as he watches her chest for movement.

”Dude, relax,” one of the three men in the room says, back half turned. “She’s passed out, not dead.” He chuckles while rebuckling his pants. “Probably drank too much.” Something inside Brian goes cold and sharp.

“You want a turn next? We just finished,” The second standing too close to the bed chuckles. The third, leaning against the desk, laughs and dabs his friend up. Brian closes the door behind him.

He doesn’t wind up. He takes two steps and drives his fist into the man’s jaw, feeling bone shift under his knuckles. The sound is dull and sharp. The man collapses sideways, crashing into the desk on his way down.

The one on the bed scrambles to his feet while the third catches his friend. Brian turns and slams an elbow into his throat before he can get. Cartilage gives way under the force, and the man drops, gagging. The third one bolts for the door. But Brian is faster.

He grabs a fistful of his shirt and hurls him backward into the dresser. Wood splinters and the guy yells, high and panicked. Brian takes a deep breath. He feels it then: The calm. The clarity. This is simple.

“No one touches my sister and lives.” Brian says quietly. He moves through them with practiced efficiency. Fingers on pressure points, knees to ribs, forearms crushing windpipes. He keeps them down, keeps them quiet. Brian only smiles as blood sprays across his face. He has never regretted leaving home without a knife more.

His fists are numb after the first few hits, blood coating his knuckles after the first five. The first man dies first, his face pulverized under Brian’s seething rage. The second guy tries to use the desk to stand, until Brian steps over his mangled friend and grips his head by the hair. The cold calculation in his dark brown eyes makes the man sob. His tears bring a smile to Brian’s face. He slams the man’s face down into the corner of the desk, grinning as he hears the bones crunch and the blood pour onto the carpeted floor. He rears the head back and grunts while he smashes it over and over again.

The third man finally manages to rise to his feet, blood dripping from a head wound after being thrown into the dresser. Brian straightens, breath steady, hands slick. He turns with a serial calm and easily kicks the man back to the ground. He wraps his arms around the man’s throat and strangles him with a precise squeeze, holding until the fight drains out of the body.

He drops it with a thump, and the room settles into silence. The music still too loud next door and downstairs, the college students still partying hard. He turns back to the bed.

Everything sharp inside him softens all at once. He sits beside his sister, careful now, checking her breathing, brushing her hair back from her face. He wipes the blood onto the blanket so he doesn’t taint her with his darkness. She murmurs something unintelligible, brow furrowing in her nightmare.

He wastes no time lifting her up, cradling her like she’s a little girl again. Her fingers curl tightly into his shirt, and some of the blood spray there leaves red on her skin. It angers him, that the men who hurt her could still touch her, that the evidence of Brian’s Dark Passenger is left on her flesh.

He closes his eyes when he closes the door behind him, remembering when they were newly adopted kids. When she would fall asleep on the couch and Brian would carry her to bed. The memory keeps him calm enough to walk down the stairs and out the back door without killing anyone else in that fucking frat house. Brian hopes that she doesn’t remember anything.

——

Dexter’s POV

The frat house smells like regret and cheap alcohol.

Dexter steps carefully through the crime scene, making eye contact with his father Harry who nods while canvasing a witness. He continues up the stairs and into the far bedroom, gloved hands holding his camera and clipboard. He’s surprised to see three bodies. Upon a quick scan of the room, no obvious weapon, besides the bloodied edge of the desk and the slumped body beside it. Yet, the struggle wasn’t loud enough to alert the party across the hall or downstairs. They weren’t discovered until hours later, after the party had died down.

That's the part that bothers him the most. People fight loudly when they’re scared. These men didn’t stand a chance.

Dexter crouches beside the nearest body, his camera already up. Compression marks on the neck—deliberate, precise. He tilts his head, studying the angles, the timing. Whoever did this knew exactly how long to apply pressure. His eyes following the blood with the mind of a killer.

He moves to the second body; barely a face left to him. Dexter shakes his head. “This was passionate for our killer.” He says to himself. But despite the clearly rage-motivated attack, the methods are controlled, almost compulsively so. Dexter exhales slowly.

Interesting.

The third body is positioned differently—closer to the door. An attempt to escape. Dexter notes the bruising pattern, the way the man was subdued before being silenced. Dexter straightens.

Across the room, the bed is quite rumpled. He leans in and notices a drying bloodstain; the killer wiped his hands here. He grabs his black light and sweeps the bed: Blood spatter around the edges, the large smear, and something else. Semen. Dexter straightens and his face turns grim. His eyes sweep over the three men once more, noticing their varied states of undress. Someone was taken advantage of here, and either she killed them, or someone else came in and saw them, and they killed them.

Harry Morgan comes in with a sigh, replacing the rookie in the room. It’s just him and Dexter now. “What did you find for us, Dexter?”

”Dad, this wasn’t a frat fight.” Dexter retraces his path through the room, walking Harry through his retelling of events. He ends with the bed, showing him the stains himself. “Someone was taken advantage of here, Dad, and someone else killed them for it.” It reminds Dexter of the one and only frat party he took Debra to, where he almost lost control. Clearly, whoever killed these guys didn’t have someone there to stop them.

Harry sighs and shakes his head in disgust. “Then they got what they deserved. But we still gotta do our jobs. I’ll leave you to collect your evidence, son.” Harry pats Dex’s shoulder and leaves him to it.

Dexter hopes he won’t find anything.

[maisieisdeadd]

pairing: brian moser x little sister

cw: dead dove, lil sis is taken advantage of, brian gets homicidal about it, blood, gore, some dexter at the end

After Brian reluctantly took his little sister to a college party, he loses her within the hour.

She was stuck to his hip like twenty minutes ago. As he led her through the crowded frat house, he chuckled to himself at how close she stayed. “Relax, little sister. Let me get you a drink. You’ve earned it, after acing your anatomy exam.” Brian pressed a kiss to her hand before dragging her towards the kitchen. Thankfully, he found his college friends lingering around the island. The only four people he speaks to; they’re all premed like him, like both of them.

The girl nods and smiles, allowing herself to get excited when he places a cup of punch in her hands, then gives her a heavy pour of cheap rum. She laughs and lifts her cup to toast against Brian’s beer. They both take a deep sip, his little sister coughing a little at how strong the drink is. She slams the empty cup on the counter and smirks proudly. All gone. Brian is impressed.

Her big brother pours her another. Two girls approach her, squealing and pulling her into a hug—her best friends, one a cannabis student and the other her lab partner in Mortuary. They encourage her to go dance with them, and when she looks at him for permission, doe eyes wide and hopeful, of course he nodded with a smile and told her to go.

While he talked with his friends about their prosthetics final project, he could hear his sister’s laughter every once in a while. It soothed his nerves, which began to prickle the longer he goes without seeing her. But that laugh became scarce, a nagging lack that his subconscious picked up on.

He’s onto his fourth beer as he looks around for his sister in the crowded frat house. His friends are all laughing around him, but there’s no sign of her. He murmured a quick bathroom excuse and set out to find her.

He checks both of the downstairs bathrooms. He opened the door on a couple fucking in one, and a group of three girls in the other. None of them being his little sister. He takes a deep swig from his drink and takes the stairs up two at a time.

At the top of the stairs, the air feels different.

Thicker, stale beer and marijuana smoke filling the hazy hallway. Laughter drifts down the hallway in uneven bursts, doors half shut, music leaking through the walls in dull thumps. Brian slows, scanning as he moves, trained eyes looking for details most people miss.

A pair of heels abandoned near a bench, a purse underneath like someone kicked it there. His jaw tightens.

He tries the first door on the left, locked. He knocks and a grouchy frat boy opens the door with a glare. “I’m trying to study, my room is not for fucking!” And he slams the door in Brian’s face. The killer can only chuckle; he got a good enough look to the dorm that he knows his sister isn’t in there. The second he opens to a crowded room, bodies pressed together, red cups everywhere. This is where that deep thumping music was coming from—a party within a party. Someone offers him a cup but he raises his beer instead, closing the door behind him. He doesn’t bother looking closely: she’s not here. She would’ve seen him by now.

The third door opens quietly, no music, no laughter. His eyes zero in on his sister on the bed. For half a second, his mind refuses to process it. She’s sprawled wrong, limbs heavy and loose, head turned to the side. Her dress is riding up her thighs, straps slipping off her shoulders like they’ve been yanked too many times. She’s clearly out, and he holds his breath as he watches her chest for movement.

”Dude, relax,” one of the three men in the room says, back half turned. “She’s passed out, not dead.” He chuckles while rebuckling his pants. Something inside Brian goes cold and sharp.

“You want a turn next? We just finished,” The one standing too close to the bed chuckles. The third, leaning against the desk, laughs and dabs his friend up. Brian closes the door behind him.

He doesn’t wind up. He takes two steps and drives his fist into the man’s jaw, feeling bone shift under his knuckles. The sound is dull and sharp. The man collapses sideways, crashing into the desk on his way down.

The one on the bed scrambles to his feet while the third catches his friend. Brian turns and slams an elbow into his throat. Cartilage gives way under the force, and the man drops, gagging. The third one bolts for the door. But Brian is faster.

He grabs a fistful of his shirt and hurls him backward into the dresser. Wood splinters and the guy screams, high and panicked. Brian takes a deep breath. He feels it then: The calm. The clarity. This is simple.

“No one touches my sister and lives.” Brian says quietly. He moves through them with practiced efficiency. Fingers on pressure points, knees to ribs, forearms crushing windpipes. He keeps them down, keeps them quiet. Brian only smiles as blood sprays across his face. He has never regretted leaving without a knife more.

His fists are numb after the first few hits, blood coating his knuckles after the first five. The first man dies first, his face pulverized under Brian’s seething rage. The second guy tries to use the desk to stand, until Brian steps over his mangled friend and grips his head by the hair. The cold calculation in his dark brown eyes makes the man sob. His tears bring a smile to Brian’s face. He slams the man’s face down into the corner of the desk, grinning as he hears the bones crunch and the blood pour onto the carpeted floor. He rears his head back and grunts while he smashes it over and over again.

The third man finally manages to rise to his feet, blood dripping from a head wound after being thrown into the dresser. Brian straightens, breath steady, hands slick. He turns with a serial calm and easily kicks the man back to the ground. He wraps his arms around the man’s throat and strangles him with a precise squeeze, holding until the fight drains out of the body.

He drops it with a thump, and the room settles into silence. The music still too loud downstairs, the college students still partying hard. He turns back to the bed.

Everything sharp inside him softens all at once. He sits beside his sister, careful now, checking her breathing, brushing her hair back from her face. He wipes the blood onto the blanket so he doesn’t taint her with his darkness. She murmurs something unintelligible, brow furrowing in her nightmare.

He wastes no time lifting her up, cradling her like she’s a little girl again, Her fingers curl tightly into his shirt, and some of the blood spray leaves red on her skin. It angers him, that the men who hurt her could still touch her, that the evidence of Brian’s Dark Passenger is left on her flesh.

He closes his eyes when he closes the door behind him, remembering when they were newly adopted kids. When she would fall asleep on the couch and Brian would carry her to bed. The memory keeps him calm enough to walk down the stairs and out the back door without killing anyone else in that fucking frat house. By the time anyone realizes something is wrong upstairs, Brian is long gone.

Dexter’s POV

The frat house smells like regret and cheap alcohol.

Dexter steps carefully through the crime scene, making eye contact with his father Harry who nods while canvasing a witness. He continues up the stairs and into the far bedroom, gloved hands holding his camera and clipboard. He’s surprised to see three bodies. Upon a quick scan of the room, no obvious weapon, besides the bloodied edge of the desk and the slumped body beside it. Yet, the struggle wasn’t loud enough to alert the party across the hall or downstairs. They weren’t discovered until hours later, after the party had died down.

That's the part that bothers him the most. People fight loudly when they’re scared. These men didn’t stand a chance.

Dexter crouches beside the nearest body, his camera already up. Compression marks on the neck—deliberate, precise. He tilts his head, studying the angles, the timing. Whoever did this knew exactly how long to apply pressure. His eyes following the blood with the mind of a killer.

He moves to the second body; barely a face left to him. Dexter shakes his head. “This was passionate for our killer.” He says to himself. But despite the clearly rage-motivated attack, the methods are controlled, almost compulsively so. Dexter exhales slowly.

Interesting.

The third body is positioned differently—closer to the door. An attempt to escape. Dexter notes the bruising pattern, the way the man was subdued before being silenced. Dexter straightens.

Across the room, the bed is quite rumpled. He leans in and notices a drying bloodstain; the killer wiped his hands here. He grabs his black light and sweeps the bed: Blood spatter around the edges, the large smear, and something else. Semen. Dexter straightens and his face turns grim. His eyes sweep over the three men once more, noticing their varied states of undress. Someone was taken advantage of here, and either she killed them, or someone else came in and saw them, and they killed them.

Harry Morgan comes in with a sigh, replacing the rookie in the room. It’s just him and Dexter now. “What did you find for us?”

”Dad, this wasn’t a frat fight.” Dexter retraces his path through the room, walking him through his retelling of events. He ends with the bed, showing him the stains himself. “Someone was taken advantage of here, Dad, and someone else killed them for it.” It reminds Dexter of the one and only frat party he took Debra to, where he almost lost control. Clearly, whoever killed these guys didn’t have someone there to stop them.

Harry sighs and shakes his head in disgust. “Then they got what they deserved. But we still gotta do our jobs. I’ll leave you to collect your evidence, son.” Harry pats Dex’s shoulder and leaves him to it.

Dexter hopes he won’t find anything.