“Yeah,” he panted, continuing to thrust upward, his hardness bouncing against Dean's over and over in rhythm. He hadn't felt this good since Jessica, at least. Maybe he had never felt this good.
Sam's giant hands wrapped around Dean's shoulders, dragging him down so that their faces were so close, Sam's lips traced against Dean's as he spoke. “I want you like this,” he said. “Always.” He was about to take a real risk. “And I want it when I wake up, too.”