Dean always called himself the handsome brother, but at this point he was fast changing his opinion of that. Sam's high cheekbones and his cute chin, and those fucking dimples were suddenly far less adorable and childlike, and far more handsome and sexy. He loved the shape of Sam's eyebrows and the full-body tan his brother had, and Christ he was actually turned on by the chest hair. His life had taken one really weird turn.
Breathing roughly against Sam's mouth, Dean looped one arm around his brother's shoulders, the other pawing over Sam's chest, fingers scraping at the tattoo and then his muscles, teasing his nipples right after. He rubbed at them lightly, then pinched the left one a little.
"Come on, Sammy," he murmured against his jaw as he kissed up his cheek, deciding he needed to encourage him. Reaching down with that free hand, he squeezed Sam's ass, rocking his hips into his little brother's. "Do it hard, that's my boy," he purred, amazed for a moment that his instinct told him to still refer to Sam that way.