[His hand moved back up to tangle in Sam's hair, sliding through, gently tugging, petting. He couldn't keep it still. Had to touch his brother.]

[His other arm gave out and he fell back onto the mattress, eyes drifting shut for a moment. All he could do was feel. Sam's head under his hand, Sam's mouth on his cock, Sam's hand stroking him. Once again, his world narrowed to just Sam, Sam, Sam.]

[He gave a low, ragged moan as he reached down for Sam's free hand still resting on his stomach. Dean pulled it up to him, curled the pinkie and ring finger under, then took Sam's index and middle fingers into his own mouth. He stroked them with his tongue, sucking rhythmically. If he could hold out a little longer, those fingers could get in on the act.]