"I used to," years ago. It was the only reason he knew what sort of relief it would give him. Dean dropped his hands and slid one down Don Juan's arm to tug him gently toward the bedroom. He was sloppier back then, typically drunk and the only thing he had cared about was numbing the the pain with a different kind.

"I'm better at it now, believe it or not." It probably didn't look like it, because he was still up against people who could best him with one hand tied behind their backs, but he held his own most of the time. Dean sat down on the edge of the bed and bent slowly to untie his shoes, toeing them off in relief.