Dean took the chance to get a few more kisses in before he was pushed back. He was fast becoming addicted to the feeling. It was different; Sam had stubble, a strong jaw, thin lips, and he tasted like beer, but there was something distinctly 'Sam' behind it all and he made a frustrated noise when he was pressed back to the bed.
"Alright, alright. There's no need to threaten torture," he teased him, and a moment later his boxers were gone and he swallowed a knot in his throat. He was well aware he wasn't a wall of muscle like Sam. He was lean, toned, and maybe there was a small pudge to his belly, but he didn't mind it. It was still weird being seen by Sam in this context, though.
Sliding his hand through Sam's hair, already long since addicted to the feel of it and hating himself a bit for letting everything get even this far, he reminded himself Sam was an adult who could consent to things he wanted to do, and he didn't need to act the big brother at the moment.