Only Dean is allowed to do that to him. To take him apart, strip him of all he is and put him back together as he sees fit. Only Dean is allowed to see him like that. Desperate and vulnerable, aching and needy, consumed by the need for comfort and reassurance, relief from the stress of the life they lead, confirmation of his brother's love. Only Dean could do that to him. Could read him like an open book, know all his tells and his weak points, know just what he needed and when. Only Dean could give this to him. And after losing his brother to the depths of hell, then getting him back months later, Sam needed this more than ever.

And Dean, always observant Dean, had recognized that and set out to give him what he thirsted for so strongly. He'd ambushed Sam, grabbing him as soon as he had entered the room. Slamming him against the wall, he had pulled his younger brother's arms behind his back handcuffing him, then tying a blindfold around his eyes. Spinning him around, Dean stripped him efficiently before pushing him down onto the bed.

Lying on his back, Sam held himself stiffly, barely breathing, straining for some hint of noise to tell him what his brother was up to. Eyes blocked, his other senses tried to compensate, to detect the man he knew was there. He jerked away startled as hot breath ghosted over his face. Sam heard a warm chuckle, before his lips were covered with Dean's. The older Winchester explored his mouth thoroughly, seemingly trying to memorize its shape and texture. With a gasp, he gave himself over, let himself give in to whatever his brother intended.

Leaning back bonelessly, Sam could only feel. Feel the warmth and affection behind Dean's kisses. Feel the hands that caressed him, possessed him. He didn't need his eye sight, he knew this, knew this feeling. He would always be able to detect his brother's presence, soak up his loving regard. Tears slipped slowly but increasingly down his face at the thought that he could have lost this, had lost this. Sam couldn't live without this, couldn't imagine how he could have ever convinced himself that he could.

Weeping now inconsolably, he was pulled into Dean's lap, held against him tightly as they leaned against the headboard. Kisses were repeatedly pressed against his face and neck, his tears and fears soothed away. His brother was here now, that was enough, and there was no way Sam was ever letting him go again. Pushing back insistently, he tried to tell the other man that he needed more, more proof of his presence, of his love.

Pushed suddenly onto his stomach, Sam moaned with pleasure as a hot tongue slid along his skin. He pressed back into the teasing then harsh bites that made their way down his back, bypassing his bound arms. He froze, eyes rolling back, at the feel of a wet mouth sucking along the sensitive flesh of his lower back and across the globes of his ass. Strong yet gentle hands pulled the muscles apart, a tongue flickering out to taste along his crack. Groaning, Sam raised himself shakily to his knees, spreading his legs open further.

A lubed finger glided across his thigh, rimming his entrance gently. Whining in his throat, Sam tried to communicate with his body the need he couldn't seem to find the words to express. He was rewarded as the finger pushed in slowly, caressing his inner walls, then pressing hard against his prostate. Coming with a cry, Sam's last thought was that he really couldn't wait to return the favor.