Hand Porn
He holds them. They are the hands of an artist. Hands that hold him, arouse him, bring him to mind-blowing orgasms and then caress him in the afterglow. Flat smooth palms that he teases gently with the tips of his fingers; round and round the garden like a teddy bear. Long tapering fingers that touch his lips, slide between them and tantalise his tongue.
That somehow always tastes of sherbet lemons and gun powder.
Warm dry hands, real and lived in. Lines and whorls on the fingertips; leaving prints on his skin.
"Dean, can I get my hands back now?"
Impotence
"Dean?"
Silence
"Come on man, it's no big deal."
Dean turns his face away "It's never happened to me before Sammy." he says in monotone.
"Dude, it happens all the time."
"Not to me Sam, not to me."
Sam touches his shoulder and pulls him in close, a sympathetic embrace. Dean pulls away from the contact, he doesn't want sympathy. Not here, not now. Not while he feels so much less of a man.
He can feel his embarrassment soaking into everything; infecting it; staining it. His clothes, the Impala, even Sam.
"Dean, you split your coffee. Get over it."
Titanic
They lie entwined in each other arms. Satisfied and spent, with a sheen of perspiration drying on their cooling skin. Dean has his head resting on Sam's chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat and catching the rise and fall of his breath. He fiddles lazily with his brother's fingers, comparing the size of their hands and marvelling at the things those digits can do to him.
"Sammy?"
"Yes, Dean?"
"What's the difference between me and the Titanic?"
"Dude I have no idea, what is the difference between you and the Titanic?"
"You never went down on the Titanic."
Jaws
His brother Dean has no concept of boundaries or personal space. Here Sam is, trying to relax in a bath with his tubby toys. Not playing, never playing, but the wind-up turtle is company, as is the little penguin on the boat which squirts water.
Dean walks in through the door, without knocking and begins examining his reflection in the mirror above the sink.
"Dude, do you mind?"
"Nothing I haven't seen before man. Not ashamed are you?"
Sam carefully positions his plastic submarine to try and cover his exposed manhood.
"Sammy?"
"What Dean?"
"You're gonna need a bigger boat."