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Dean's hands are heavy and so warm on Sam's soft inner thighs, holding him open while Dean's tongue pushes into him, excruciatingly slow.
He doesn't know how they got here - Dean kneeling between Sam's legs, Zeke at his side, half leaning over Sam and biting at his collarbone, his throat, his jaw. There was something about Dean being able to take care of Sam, Dean telling Ezekiel he was free to get the fuck out of the bunker. Zeke had replied something along the lines of "I can take care of him like he needs," and now Sam's on his back with his brother's hands on him for the first time in too long.
Dean pulls away from Sam to mumble against his skin, hot breath and filthy words, "Like that, Sammy?" and "Know just how you want it", and he's not wrong because Dean does have a way of taking Sam apart with his tongue and his hands and his hot, grinding voice.
"Gonna take care of you" is muttered into the crease of Sam's thigh before Dean's mouth slides back down to his hole, one slick finger pushing roughly in while Dean's tongue skates around the rim.
"That's what you want, isn't it?" Zeke murmurs, mouth coming up to breathe words hot against Sam's ear. "You want your brother, want him inside you? You want his hands on you all the time, want him to spread you open and take you whenever he feels like it?"
Sam shudders at the words, cock leaping where it lies, fat and flushed against his belly.
"You want him to fuck you every morning before you even wake up, want to open your eyes to find him already inside you. You wish he'd bend you over that kitchen table, wish he'd put you on your knees and make you suck him on the spot."
Dean groans against him, fingers curling and searching until they pass over Sam's prostate and he jerks, cock spilling precome against his belly, too far gone to do anything but spread his knees wider, arch his back and ignore the blush burning from his hairline to his chest.
"I know how much you've wanted to be good for your big brother, Sam. How hard you come when you picture him fucking you."
"That true Sammy?" Dean asks, pressing the pads of his fingers up to Sam's prostate in a way that makes it impossible for Sam to answer. "You wanna show me how good you are?"
He sounds curious, underneath the thick layer of arousal roughening his voice.
"Tell him," Zeke says, fingertips grazing down Sam's chest. Sam arches up into the touch, trying to find his voice.
"Yeah - yeah, Dean, want it. Wanna do everything you say, wanna be so good for you." It's as much as he can get out with the way Dean's fingers are rubbing insistently now. Sam's hips are rocking down onto Dean's fingers, and he's so close, just needs Dean's hand on his cock for a second and he's going to -
"You're so fucking hot like this, Sammy, such a good boy for us. So fucking perfect for me, letting me do this, fucking taking it."
With that, Dean's other hand closes on Sam's cock and he arches up into it. All it takes is a couple of strokes, a hard rub against his prostate, and Zeke's teeth grazing down his throat and Sam's coming so hard he whites out, can feel it all the way down to his toes.
He opens his eyes to find two equally awed stares on him and blushes all over again. He wants to hide his face, wants to curl up, warm and satisfied and so grateful, but Dean's cock is still very obviously hard.
Dean sits back on his heels and Sam curls forward, gets his mouth on his brother's cock and sinks down, already lost in the taste, the weight of it in his mouth. Dean's thighs are shaking under Sam's hands, fingers carding through Sam's hair, soft curses and Sam's name falling from his lips.
"Next time you should fuck him," Zeke says, and Sam feels a hot rush of something squirmy and good at the way Zeke's talking about him like he's not even there. "He deserves it, don't you think?"
Dean groans and rocks his hips, the head of his cock slipping a fraction of an inch deeper before sliding back again.
"Yeah, such a good boy, gonna fuck you just like you want," Dean says, voice cracking, and Sam moans around his cock, lifts his hand to pump the parts he can't reach. Dean lets out a quiet cry and comes, pulsing thick and hot into Sam's mouth, fingers tightening and releasing in Sam's hair.
Zeke doesn't stay, but Dean tells him to come back sometime and Sam smiles against his chest where he's curled up, head tucked under Dean's chin, arms and legs wrapped around Dean.