Dean’s had Sam on the edge all day and into the night, teasing him, bringing him to the point of orgasm, then choking it off. Then off to interview a witness, pulling over in the Impala behind a warehouse, and doing it all over again, until Sam is practically incoherent and on the verge of becoming legitimately pissed off.
Back in the hotel room, Sam sits down on the bed heavily and grabs for Dean, a pleading expression on his face. “Dean. Let me come. I’m gonna fucking die.”
Dean gives the smallest of nods, licks his sin-pink lips, strokes Sam’s hair, puts his hands on Sam’s shoulders, and simply whispers, “Sammy.”
Sam comes in his pants.
Dean does the walk of triumph down the hall to go get burgers and a six-pack.