Dean was stretched out on his bed still, breath ragged no matter how calm he tried to keep it, a death grip on the covers. Maybe... maybe he could pretend he's asleep, get up in the morning and clean himself up, act like he didn't just come over his brother in dreamland.
If he was a good brother, that's probably what he'd do. Make Sam forget that he apparently wanted to fuck him 'always'.
But instead he slowly turned to face him, licking his lips. "Yeah, Sammy?" His voice was rough, breathless still. "I'm here..."