They have more than desecrated the room they share at Bobby’s house.
A long night spent waiting up for Dad, promised that he would come pick them up, leaves Sam and Dean restless. Their pent-up energy builds and within twenty minutes Dean is holding Sam from behind, grinding his hard, clothed cock against his ass.
Sam whimpers, grips the sheets, moves back against Dean in some halting, quick rhythm that he can’t match. His hair tickles Dean’s lips, brushes against his face gently, makes him forget about how much he misses Dad.
Of course, he doesn’t come back by morning.