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His little brother's hands were the hottest thing he'd feel this side of the grave, and God, he had his voice down perfect.
"C'mon, Dean, I'll make it so good for you..."
Taunting voices whispered to him--brought back wrong, not your Sammy--as Sam's palm slid up his thigh.
The voices didn't know shit.
He caught Sam's wrist. "No."
Sam's shoulders slumped. "But you want it," he protested, his face too young and vulnerable.
He nodded at Sam's soft cock, and rolled to the other side of the bed.
"Not because you want to come with me," he said.