Sam lies on his stomach, eyes closed, breathing heavily.

Dean's hands are holding him down, fingers digging into Sam's skin, as he thrusts inside Sam; deep, slow, so slow it's almost unbearable. Sam keens low in his throat as Dean rolls his hips, knowing exactly how to drive his brother wild. The slow rhythm, a gentle bite on Sam's shoulder once in a while, teasing little licks on his sensitive neck…

Sam moans like he's in pain, but Dean knows better. He has learned to read Sam like an open book, and there might be a little pain, but that pain is of the sweetest kind. Dean knows how it feels to be so aroused it actually hurts.

The first time Sam gave Dean a blowjob, Dean was sure he would die of it. Sam did it like he had all time in the world, devouring Dean's taste, sucking him slow and sweet, and even though it was a long ago, the memory of that first time makes Dean sigh out of pleasure. He remembers how he couldn't hold himself back, tension building way too high, and Sam drinking of him until he was weak, empty, and his knees gave in. Sam held him close, kissed him lightly on the lips, and they stayed like that for a while.

Then Sam cupped Dean's face, looked deep into his eyes, and in that look Dean could see everything Sam wasn't saying.

Dean got up from the floor, pulling Sam up as well. He led Sam to the bed and made love to him for the fist time. Slowly, gently; knowing it was Sam's first time, and he didn't want to hurt his brother.

As time went by, Dean figured out that the gentle way wasn't the only way. Sometimes Sam wanted, needed, to be fucked so hard he could feel Dean for days. Sometimes Sam begged for pain, begged for Dean to hurt him, explaining that when he felt pain, he knew he was truly alive. Dean understood, he knew that feeling himself. They were like one soul in two different bodies, and when their bodies collided, they were one. It was perfection, serenity, a heaven on earth.

Sam buries his face to the pillow, muffling words that sound something like 'love' and 'need' and 'never leave'. Dean presses his face against Sam's neck, inhaling the sweet scent of his brother. And at that moment he realizes, that this is love. Not just need, want and desire, but pure, honest love, and for the first time in his life Dean isn't afraid of that feeling, doesn't feel the need to run away. How could he? Sam is a part of him, and without Sam he would be incomplete, lost, and broken. Dean is like a dry desert, and Sam is like rain; the rain that comes down and fills that empty desert with life. Dean's hands wander around Sam's body, wanting to feel every inch of the smooth skin beneath his fingers. He's deep inside Sam, but he still needs to get closer, so close that he doesn't even know where he ends and where Sam begins. This new sensation feels better than anything Dean has ever felt before. He has never made love to someone he loves, really loves; firmly and unconditionally. But he loves Sam, he's in love with Sam. His brother, his lover, his everything.

"I love you." Dean mouths against Sam's neck, and even if Sam doesn't hear that, it doesn't matter. They don't need words. Every move Dean makes is filled with love and tenderness, and Sam can feel it. Sam closes his eyes again as Dean moves inside him, ever so slowly, kissing his neck, biting gently his shoulder, and Sam is close, so close… Dean smiles as he feels his brother's muscles tensing under him. Two more slow thrusts and Sam comes undone, and Dean follows him not far behind as Sam trembles and lets out fast and light breaths. Dean shivers and kisses Sam's neck again. This is itDean thinks as they both enjoy the afterglow of that sweet, slow torture. People say that home is where the heart is, and for the first time in his life Dean feels like he's come home.