Sweat (Acoustics 'verse)

[tifaching]

Beads of liquid run from Dean’s hairline to his clenched jaw, one drop following another in a slick stream.  Sam’s mesmerized, eyes avidly tracing the moisture’s path.  He grabs Dean’s head and licks the sweat from his face; pain and fear a delicious tang on the stubble rasping against his tongue.  Sam grimaces and runs his hand over Dean’s cheeks until they are smooth and soft under his mouth.

You taste good, baby, Sam whispers, but you seem a little warm.   He tugs gently at the waistband of his brother’s jeans.  Let’s see if we can’t make you more comfortable.

Next: A Good Start