[Dean's eyes rolled back in his head when he felt Sam's mouth descend on him again. Then a finger was pushing into him and it was all he could do to remain still, in spite of the desperate want to buck his hips up into the hot, wet suction and down onto the finger working him open.]

[It wasn't long before he was begging for the second finger. His hand was still resting against the top of Sam's head, while the other held onto the sheets so tightly the fabric threads protested.]

[He gasped for air between strangled cries of more, Sammy, and fuck, fuck, fuck.]