Places

“Should go back to your place,” Sam says. His lips are pressed against the ridge of G’s throat, right where he’s the most sensitive, the most vulnerable.

“Don’t have a place right, now,” G says automatically, but Sam knows this already, and G shouldn’t have to remind him. He runs a hand over the smooth dome of Sam’s shaved head and thinks about how much he really wants to blow Sam right now, right here in one of the dim stalls of the bar’s bathroom. Started out as just a drink, but G knew it was just an excuse, just the same as Sam did. And now they’re here, with G’s back up against the wall and Sam’s hands on his hips.

Sam says, “Well, I guess we’ll just have to do this here.” His voice is light and teasing, the way it gets on long stakeouts. Sam licks the curve of G’s jaw, presses the heel of a hand against G’s crotch. G swallows down a moan, a flush of embarrassment chasing its way up his neck. This isn’t the first time he’s had public sex before, isn’t the first time he’s done it wearing his own skin, isn’t even the first time he’s done it with Sam, but the fear of being caught twists itself up with his arousal. Jethro always did say that he liked danger a little too much.

G’s breathing sounds too loud to his own ears, even louder than the guy in the next stall over who seems to be auditioning for a porn film or something. Sam opens the fly of G’s jeans, a slow, sly smile on his face. That smile never fails to make G’s insides feel like they’re being rearranged, and this time is no different. “Hey, Sam,” G says as Sam’s fingers make contact with the soft skin of G’s stomach, “You think Hetty would kill us if she ever finds out we come here?”

Sam laughs, and G just needs him to hurry up before he starts crawling out of his own skin. Sam says, “You’re assuming that Hetty doesn’t already know.” His hands dip lower, close to where G wants them, and then they stop. Something in G snaps, and he shoves Sam’s broad shoulders against the wall and kisses him, hard, deep, and thorough. G’s hands want to go everywhere; Sam’s face, Sam’s chest, Sam’s waist, Sam’s neck. The guy in the stall over groans, and Sam bites at G’s lower lip, drawing it out so that it’s hot and more than a little filthy. G wants to make Sam make those sort of sounds, because he can’t not, but Sam’s the the quiet one in bed; G’s the one left gasping when Sam licks his nipples, left babbling when Sam’s got his lips wrapped around G’s cock, left moaning when Sam fucks him slow and easy.

G works Sam’s jeans down to his knees, dropping to the floor for better leverage. Sam’s not wearing boxers. Of course he isn’t. “What would you do if someone walked in right now?” G asks. He’d probably go ahead and blow Sam anyway before he could chicken out, make a show of it, take his time to get Sam good and worked up even if he was desperate himself by the end of it.

“I’d probably says something like, ‘Sorry, but this is a private party,’” Sam replies, almost sounding normal. His cock is hard and curving upwards, purple and swollen and leaking. G’s mouth waters just from looking at it.

G has a witty rejoinder to that, but he’s much more interested in flicking his tongue over the tip of Sam’s cock, so he does that instead. Sam’s breathing hitches a tiny bit, his body stiffening. G does it again, light and teasing, and one of Sam’s hands drops down to rest on the back of G’s head. Sam could hold G’s head in place, could keep it steady as he fucks G’s mouth, but Sam knows G’s really not into that, and his hands make no move to control or guide him. G slides his mouth over the head of Sam’s cock, and it feel thick and velvety and familiar against G’s tongue. Sam sucks in a hard breath as G scrapes lightly with teeth, a small victory in and of itself. G gets in a few sucks, stretching his mouth open wider so that he can take more in.

Then Sam’s saying, “Get up here, man,” and G stands up, his knees cracking as he does so. Sam kisses him again, and G’s suddenly desperate in a way he hasn’t been until now, on the edge of his control. He manages to get his boxers out of the way, just enough to free his cock, and then their bodies are pressed together, lining up.

It’s skin on skin, then, and G’s dick rubs up against Sam’s, and it’s just all heat and hardness and the arousal underneath G’s skin, and G grinds his hips against Sam’s, and a groan escapes from his lips. “Jesus,” G gasps against Sam’s mouth as his hips jerk. He feels torn up from the inside.

Sam just wraps a hand around bother their dicks -- Jesus, more friction and heat -- and says, “Come on, G.” His other arm is wrapped around G’s waist, holing him up, holding them together.

G comes with a muffled groan, and Sam comes right after him. G lets himself slump against Sam’s solid chest, because he just needs a little time to get his breath back. He closes his eyes for a full ten seconds, and he can feel Sam’s deep, steady breaths against his chin. He could fall asleep like this if he wanted to.

“How about yours?” G finally says, and they may have jumped back a few conversation topics, but Sam knows what he means.

Sam grins like the sun coming over the horizon. “I thought you’d never ask.”