thedropoutandthejunkie:

Sam’s hands are always so damn warm, gentle as they cradle his cock. Dean’s erection waxes and wanes, cause Sam never moves much when he does this; he doesn’t intend to stimulate, only to hold. It’s strangely pleasant now, unlike the first time when Dean wasn’t sure if he wanted to plead for more or ask Sam to pull his hand out of Dean’s pants. 

They’d been back to chest then, watching a movie when Sam’s hand had slid down and fiddled with the button on Dean’s jeans. 

Wanna try somethin’, he’d whispered in Dean’s ear. Of course, Dean was always up for new things, and had said yes readily. What he hadn’t expected was for Sam to just cup his cock in that big, strong palm and not move. The contact had been maddening, enough to keep his dick interested but not much more than that. 

Eventually, Sam had stroked him off, but only once the movie was over. And Sam kept doing it. When Dean finally asked why, Sam struggled to answer. 

“I … I just like it. It’s, I don’t know. Comfortable? Comforting?” Sam shrugs, face turning red and Dean refrains from asking more questions. It’s not like he minded, really.

The next time they were cuddled up, Dean guided Sam’s hand gently down to his boxers, shifting his legs apart just enough for those long fingers to fit easily between them.