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substitution is the spice of life

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He didn't know who they were.

Every night a different town, a different bar, a different guy, and every night the same empty fuck. Anger, pain, guilt, and grief all blended into one as he took out his frustrations on whatever nameless body he could find.

Drawn to them by their lips, their smile, their eyes, their clothes, their hair, or any other characteristic that provided a pale imitation of what he'd lost, Sam took what he needed, seeking solace in the dirt of the human world rather than the dirt of the demon one.

The only time he ever got close was in a dive in East Texas. To this day, he honestly didn't know whether the guy was real or whether he'd just drunk too much to distinguish, but everything about him screamed 'Dean'.

From the half-smile when Sam had bought him a drink, to the familiar shape of the guy's lips against his own, to the needy little moans he made as Sam straddled him on a motel bed, being with Jensen could trick Sam's mind into thinking Dean was the one beneath him.

True, he was quieter than Dean, shyer and less sarcastic, but when gift-horses were few and far between, Sam stopped looking them in the mouth.

Instead he rode it hard, taking advantage of the natural submissiveness that he never found in Dean to slip his belt around the man's wrists and tie him to the bed with pacifying praises of "Good boy" and "You look so good like this."

Easing Jensen's legs out of his jeans and boxers, he knelt between them, nipping teasingly at his sides just to have an excuse to pin his hips down as Jensen pulled on his bonds.

"God, Sam, please..."

The words were said in Dean's voice and Sam raised his head, seeing only his brother's lust-filled eyes staring back at him as a flush embraced the smattering of freckles he'd kissed so many times before.

Lubed fingers nudging at Jensen's hole, Sam bit down carefully on a nipple, pushing a finger in at the same time as Jensen arched up with a groan.

"Fucking hell..."

His sweat-soaked skin felt cold at the word and he pushed two and three fingers in without warning, watching passively as Jensen struggled against the restraints at the intrusion.

"Shit- Slow down, slow down..."

Sam's cock swelled at his muffled moan of pain and he pushed Jensen's legs further apart, positioning himself as Jensen murmured, drunk on arousal, "Wait, wait, I'm not-"

Any other protests were cut short as he pushed inside, and Jensen bucked up at the sensation, belt pulling harshly around his wrists. "Jeez, Sam, slow down!"

Sam thrust harder, hating himself for being turned on by the panic in Jensen's eyes.

"Sam, wait- Sam!" An unwanted groan of pleasure escaped his lips as Sam's hand began to work his cock. "Sam, stop! Let me go-"

"No," he growled, leaning forward to grip Jensen's (Dean's) hair as he picked up speed. "No. I can't let you go."

Full lips parted in a broken gasp and Sam pressed a hungry kiss to them when he felt the Jensen's hips start to grind against his own, meeting his strokes in a rhythm he hadn't found in more than a month.

Lost in the movement, he found himself moaning, words coming out between breaths as he stared down into Dean's eyes, "I can't let you go-" A moan. "I won't, not again... I need this." His eyes clenched shut, Dean's face still visible behind his lids. "I need you."

Jensen cried out beneath him, his come splattering over their stomachs as Sam thrust once more into his ass, tipped over the edge by whimpers identical to Dean's.