Title: North Carolina or Busted
Series: Criminal Endeavours
Author: Alyse (alyse@CI5Ops.co.uk)
Category: The New Professionals - Curtis/Keel.
Rating: Definitely NC17
Summary: How many laws can two CI5 agents on assignment break at one time?
Keywords: PWP, smut, laws
Feedback: Yes please, to alyse@CI5Ops.co.uk. Constructive criticism welcome, flames will be used to melt chocolate, and we all know what I'll do with that :)
Disclaimers: They belong to Brian Clemens and David Wickes Productions. They don't belong to me - if they did we all know what they'd be doing. I don't make any money from this. I have nothing but my own warped imagination and therefore I'm not worth suing. :) All of my 'legal' information comes from www.dumblaws.com and I hold no responsibilities for any inaccuracies in it because it was, after all, just an excuse to get the boys nekkid.
Notes: You know I said I was sending them to North Carolina next...? <g> Thanks again to Munchie for showing me the Dumb Laws site and for inflicting this rabid bunny or six on me.
Thanks, as always, to Lou for the beta.
A Law Unto Themselves
~Bad Boys, Bad Boys, whatchya gonna do
I really, really want to get Sam naked. I know that sounds shallow, and I can't help it. Hell, what am I saying? I don't care. It ought to be illegal to wear that many layers of clothing in this heat.
And talking of illegal...
Hell, my skin is still tingling from our last encounter. That's probably why I'm so wound up now. I've got nothing against a quick encounter every now and then, but I want more. I want time to explore every inch of Sam, to find out what drives him completely out of his mind and to do it.
I'm just crazy that way.
I'm crazy another way too. I can't help wondering about the laws of this state. What was it Sam was saying? Something about it being illegal to have sex in anything other than the missionary position? Or was that Florida? Fucked if I know.
Mainly because the idea of Sam on his hands and knees in front of me is driving all rational thought out of what once passed for my brain.
He seems oblivious to it, like he's been oblivious to all of my subtle and not-so-subtle hints throughout this case. Water off a duck's back.
The thought of a wet, naked Sam suddenly sets my own mouth watering. How the hell I managed not to get shot when we took out Morales and his friendly neighbourhood gunrunners, I'll never know. Concentration all shot to...
Sam's just bent over.
Forget about the sweater he's wearing - in this heat no less - but how the hell can the man squeeze himself into a pair of jeans that tight without doing himself an injury? I mean, I've had people complain about the tight clothes I wear. Even Sam has passed comment once or twice. But Sam, my nice, well dressed, neat and besuited partner - well, he's been known to wear jeans and on one or two memorable occasions even ones that cling to him like a second skin but it's hardly his normal attire so why has he crow-barred himself into them now?
If I didn't know better I'd say he was doing it deliberately.
Bastard! I've just caught his eye and he's doing it deliberately. He's got that small smirk on his face, the one that would be a full-blown grin on anyone else's. He's deliberately making me suffer, the son of a bitch.
I'm so going to make him pay for this.
He turns to the woman behind the desk, giving her that smile that's been known to melt their panties straight off, and lo, if she isn't already blushing and dimpling. She starts to primp a little self-consciously - like he'd really be interested in a plump, middle-aged, bottle-blonde - and I'm so incensed I almost miss what Sam says next.
"Twin beds will be fine, thank you."
Eh? I obviously missed something important. We're sharing a room?
My day suddenly improves immeasurably. I give him a grin, trying hard not to look like a salivating beast, and he quirks his eyebrow at me, his green eyes sparkling. Thankfully this little exchange is missed by this place's 'doyenne of all things motel-like' as she busies herself with papers behind the desk. By the time she turns her attention back to Sam he has his most charming smile fixed firmly in place, and she primps and preens further under his regard.
Oh yeah. I'm gonna make him pay.
He leans over the desk, encroaching on her personal space, and her eyes widen and her mouth drops open. Speaking as someone who has been on the receiving end of the full force of my partner's sexuality, I have a brief pang of sympathy for her. Very brief.
"Is it true," he purrs and I watch as she swallows heavily, "that by law the beds have to be a certain distance apart?"
He loads the question was as much innuendo as he can, and she flushes, giggling softly.
"Erm, yes," she squeaks and then clears her throat, trying to sound professional as she adds, "By law double beds need to be at least two feet apart."
He smiles at her, and he may not have dimples quite as pronounced as mine but they get the message across anyway. "And yours?" he breathes.
She titters again, and now I'm seized with the urge to bang her head on the desk just to see if I get a hollow sound, find out if it's really as empty as it seems. "Oh," she simpers, "ours are at least three feet apart."
Barely enough to fit her fat ass in then, I think uncharitably, only to be completely astounded as she leans over the desk, gives him a frankly lecherous look and adds, "And it's illegal to have sex on the floor between them."
I think my jaw drops, but Sam seems completely unfazed, smiling back at her and leaning casually on the desk. "Thank you..." His eyes drop to her nametag, and then he smiles back up into her face. "Lois. You've been most helpful."
She's dazed again, completely thrown off balance by that megawatt grin and doesn't say anything as he picks the key up off the counter and saunters off towards the door. I follow silently in his wake, glancing back over my shoulder in time to catch her staring longingly at his ass.
Somebody's vibrator is going to get some use tonight.
Sam keeps up a steady pace towards his - our - room, and I have to trot quickly to catch up with him. He gives me a sideways look out of the corner of his eye, that small smile still playing around his mouth. I don't give him the satisfaction of showing what it does to me. I gave enough away in reception.
"So where are we?" I ask casually.
He spares me another glance. "Second floor, at the back and end," he says succinctly, heading up the outside stairs. Well, that's informative. Once again, I'm left trailing in his wake. Not that I'm complaining. It's a hell of a view.
I'm enjoying the sight of Sam's ass moving in front of me so much I barely register that we've come to a stop outside a door. When it finally dawns on me, I spare a second to glance around. Sam's right - second floor, at the back and end. Or to put it slightly less cryptically, we have the last room on the top floor. No reason, therefore, for anyone to come near our room. Which is just as well because beside the door, facing out onto the external walkway we're standing on, are two very large windows.
Didn't Sam say something about blinds open?
I give him a very evil grin as thoughts which probably are illegal start to percolate through my lust-addled brain. He does that eyebrow thing again, but that smile hovering around his mouth gives him away.
I think he's looking forward to this as much as I am.
I wait impatiently while he opens the door. Once it's open, I am going to jump his bones.
I miss. The son of a bitch moves nimbly out of the way, managing to make it look as though he didn't. He gives me an innocent look and dumps his bag on the bed nearest to him, moving his hands to the bottom of his sweater.
"Hot outside," he says, pulling it off over his head. It takes his t-shirt with it part of the way and I'm treated to a tantalising glimpse of toned abdomen before it drops back into place. "Think I'll take a shower. Don't mind if I have this bed, do you?"
Wait a minute. We're sleeping in separate beds? When did this get decided? Isn't the whole point of sharing a room to share the goddamned bed?
Of course it is. I see the twinkle in his eye as he leans over to unzip his holdall and retrieves his wash-bag and know that he's having way too much fun in teasing me. The son of a bitch. There's admiration mixed in with frustration in the thought.
He starts on his t-shirt, pulling that casually over his head as he saunters towards the small bathroom. Now, Sam doesn't do 'untidy' so the fact that he's left his clothes in a casual trail across the floor would have tipped me off that he was up to something, if I hadn't already guessed that much. As would the fact that he leaves the bathroom door open. Not much - just a crack. Just so I get to hear the water running and catch a tantalising glimpse of flesh every now and then.
Just enough to raise my arousal level to 'almost unbearable'.
Well, hell, two can play this game.
I close one curtain, the one next to the door, but I leave the other open. No reason for anyone to walk along to that one, unless it's Lois trying to sneak a peek. If she does, I fully intend to ensure that she gets an eyeful.
Besides, I have this nagging feeling that Sam did say something about blinds, and I'd hate to disappoint.
That task completed, I strip off my own clothes, down to boxers, and lie down on the bed - my bed - facing the bathroom. I can still hear the shower running, and picturing Sam underneath that water, visualising it flowing down over his dark hair and onto his chest, wetting the curling hair at his groin, gets me nice and hard. I drop my hand down and rest it on the bulge growing at my own groin, pressing lightly as I wait for him.
The shower ceases and I catch a glimpse of a lithe form through the crack before it's gone. I pull my hand back, reclining on the bed and watching the doorway with hungry eyes.
I don't have long to wait. The door swings open, and a plume of steam puffs into the room, heralding his entrance. He emerges, one towel wrapped loosely around his waist - very loosely and, oh God, I'm praying it slips - and another being applied vigorously to his hair. The golden light of the setting sun is streaming through the unveiled window, catching him and turning his skin to fire.
He's fucking incredible.
He catches me watching him, and that small smile starts again, although he doesn't comment. Instead he casually sits himself on the bed opposite me and continues to dry his hair while I continue to drool.
Well, two can do casual.
His smile deepens. "As motel rooms go, it's not bad, I suppose," he says lightly.
"Hmmm," I say, before blowing it and adding snidely, "I wonder how much that had to do with chatting up the receptionist."
It amuses him, although he gives me his best 'innocent' look. "I wasn't chatting her up, Chris."
"Oh?" In for a penny, in for a pound. Isn't that what the Brits say?
He's still aiming for virtuous. "I was merely making polite conversation."
"Interesting conversation," I say, a slight edge in my voice.
He smirks, his eyes dropping to the floor between us. "I thought so."
I decide it's time to up the ante in this little game of his. "So," I start, aiming for casual although I'm not stupid enough to take my eyes off him. Too dangerous. Not to mention he's still only clad in that towel. That small towel. That small towel that's starting to slip.
"Yes?" he prompts as my concentration starts to waver, and my eyes begin to travel up his legs to where his thighs disappear under that towel.
What was I saying? Oh yes. "Still fascinated by legal peculiarities, are you?" I'm quite proud of the way my voice doesn't tremble, but then he shifts slightly on the bed and the towel drops lower.
So does my jaw.
Son of a...
I swallow even more heavily than Lois did, and raise heavy-lidded eyes to his face, catching the tail end of a smirk that he rapidly hides and replaces with his patented butter-wouldn't-melt look. Okay. I am not letting him get away with this. Oh yes. He's definitely gonna pay.
I meet his eyes challengingly, and again his mouth twitches. "It's a fascinating subject, Chris."
What? Oh yeah, I remember now. "It certainly has something going for it." I let my eyes rake over his form, leaving him in no doubt as to what I'm referring to. He smirks again and there's a silent battle of wills as we each wait for the other to speak.
I lose. Well, patience has never been my strong point. "So," I say with an edge to my voice now, "apart from sex on the floor, what else is illegal here?"
I'm expecting a litany of sex acts, much as he told me before in the office, but he's not playing ball. He pursues his lips thoughtfully, although his eyes are still twinkling. "Well..." He draws the word out, watching as I narrow my eyes at him irritably. It doesn't faze him, anymore than Lois did. He's going to get to it in his own good time and not before. So I wait, trying not to fidget despite the fact that my hard-on is screaming for attention, which he's has got to have noticed.
"Would you actually credit that it's illegal to sing off-key here?"
The disbelief must be clear in my voice because his mouth gives a little suspicious twitch before his expression settles into one of complete innocence. His eyes are amused though. That's the thing about Sam - he's pretty unreadable until you figure out that you need to watch his eyes.
And right now his eyes are telling me he's winding me up.
Two can play at this game too.
"Really?" I purr, raising one hand to let it glide down over the planes of my chest. His eyes follow it automatically, widening almost comically when I don't stop at my waist but continue downwards to stroke my erection lightly through the clinging cloth of my boxers. "Any other little titbits you want to share?"
"Um... what?" He drags his eyes up to my face with an obvious effort, and I treat him to a little smirk of my own.
"Laws, Sam. Are there any other little legal snippets you feel the need to share?" My hand is still moving lightly over my crotch, and his eyes automatically return there, like he's mesmerised. Time to reel him in. "Or do you just want to fuck and see how many we can break?"
I don't think it's the setting sun this time that sets off the flare in his eyes. I think it's desire - for me. In fact, if that tent in his towel is any indication I'm pretty fucking sure of it.
He swallows heavily again and answers me, his voice husky but no longer teasing, "Six - at least."
"You reckon?" I'm frankly sceptical, but Sam's the one who's done the research.
"With a little bit of effort, yes." He still has that husky tone in his voice, and his eyes... his eyes are hungry.
"What the fuck are we waiting for then?"
I don't give him time to answer. Instead I lean across the space between us, grabbing the towel where it's wrapped around his waist and using the leverage that gives me to pull him down onto the floor, sliding down to join him. He lets out a soft gasp but says nothing, staring at me from mere inches away. I can feel his breath on my face, feel the heat his skin is generating. That we're generating.
It's a toss up which one of us moves first. One second we're staring at each other, the next we're on each other, mouths locked, fingers digging into flesh. I know I get his towel off first, but that's probably because it was already loose. His fingers are scrabbling desperately at my boxers, his tongue darting in and out of my mouth, when I come to my senses.
What the hell am I doing, rolling frantically around on the floor with my naked partner? Am I out of my mind?
Hell, we've got all night. I can take my time.
He growls at me but I ignore him, still buoyed up on the realisation that this time I can look my fill. I pull back from his questing hands and rather smugly survey his naked, supine form.
Did I say fucking incredible? He is. Slim yet still muscular, broad shoulders tapering to narrow hips and then on to long legs. And somewhere around where those hips become those legs... whoah, momma. Definitely not disappointed.
My smugness increases exponentially.
He growls at me again and I finally relent, reaching out to run my fingers over his length, feeling it burning beneath my fingertips. He sighs, and fights to keep his eyes open, rolling his hips sensuously.
Forget laws - his reaction to my touch is what's really fascinating.
But the thought of laws brings my mind back to the matter to hand, as it were. "Missionary position, right?"
"Hmmm?" He's lost the battle and his eyes are closed, adrift on the sensations my hand is causing. "Oh, yes." He licks at dry lips. "And Chris?"
He cracks his eyes open with an effort. "This time I brought lube."
Oh man. The words shoot straight to my cock and I don't even attempt to keep the desire off my face. Sam, however, doesn't call me on it but sighs again, his pupils dilating. He slides his legs apart in silent invitation, one I fully intend to accept.
First though there's that 'going slow' proviso I've set myself. Quick, frantic fucks are all very well and good, but there's definitely something about a slow comfortable screw. I've had one, and now I want the other and I intend to savour each and every second of it.
With this thought in mind, I lean down again and kiss him, sliding my tongue past parted lips to plunder the silken depths of his mouth. My hands slide up his sides, ghosting over his heated skin, driving a moan out of him with a feather-light touch. I love the feeling of power that gives me. I finally lower myself to rest on him, feeling his heart pounding where our chests meet. His skin is smooth and hot, searing me where we touch. His mouth is both soft and hard under mine, alternating between submissive and demanding, one second yielding to my searching tongue and then his own tongue darting into my mouth the next.
I finally wrest my mouth from his, moving it down over his chin, nipping at the light stubble gracing it. Down to that elegant neck. I love his neck. I haven't managed to figure out why yet, except that it's just begging to be marked with mouth and teeth.
So I do.
He gasps and moans again, but doesn't stop me as I suck hard at the tender flesh.
I think I found a hotspot. I file it away for next time.
When his neck is marked to my satisfaction, I continue my downward trek, sliding my tongue over the planes of his chest, feeling the hairs there tickle my tongue. He smells clean and tangy, the hint of shower-gel still clinging to his skin. He tastes good too, masculine and heady, the aroma and flavour combining to send very clear messages to my cock.
And talking of cocks, I've found another hotspot, if the way that Sam's cock twitches against my belly is any indication. The dip just below his breastbone, before I reach his toned abdomen. I run my tongue over it again. Oh yeah. He likes that.
He likes it when I run my tongue over his nipples too, judging by the way they peak under my hungry lips. To test this theory further, I suck one into mouth, teasing it to a hard point, gently worrying at it with my teeth. He lets out this guttural moan and his hips jerk against mine. I take pity on the other, neglected nub and subject it to the same treatment, only to have him moan harder. His hand moves to my hair, his fingers gently twisting in the strands. Not tugging - yet. I get the impression that it's just a matter of time, however.
I glance up to his face, meeting heavy-lidded green eyes, drowsy, drugged with lust and desire. The hand on my head pushes lightly, guiding me downwards and taking the hint I go. After all, he went down on me in CI5's cramped and musty library. Isn't it time I returned the favour? Not that it's exactly a hardship.
Besides, he said something about breaking six laws if we really tried. I'm all for a little effort.
He's uncut, something I noticed last time but didn't have time to explore. I do now, relishing the difference in look and feel, sliding his foreskin back so that the tip of my tongue can dance over the tip. He lets out an incoherent sound, his fingers returning to my head as I open my mouth and take him in.
Oh he likes that too. Wait until he gets a load of this.
My throat muscles tightening around his length drives a harsh gasp out of him and now his fingers really are pulling on my hair as I continue to slide him in and out of my mouth. The gasping has given way to sighs and moans and I have to pin him down as his hips buck involuntarily in response to my efforts.
It's amazing what skills you can pick up in the Navy if you pay attention. I'm now feeling incredibly smug. However, I did promise myself that I'd savour this rather than rush it so I pull back before I drive him over the edge.
He looks debauched - there's no other word for it. His skin's glistening with tiny droplets of sweat, making it glow in the early evening light still spilling through the window. His hair is tousled and his eyes are languid, a deep, mysterious green under lowered lids. His lips are swollen, red from our kisses and as I watch the tip of his pink tongue darts out and wets them so that they glisten too.
Oh man. I want him.
I move back up his body, covering his mouth with mine again, sliding my tongue past welcoming lips and feeling his hands trace lightly up and down my spine. And then he moves, faster than I'd given him credit for, flipping me over onto my back and rolling on top of me, his mouth only leaving mine for the merest split second before it's back, devouring me.
His hands are as busy as his mouth. They're already moving down my body, snagging at the waistband of my boxers as his mouth starts to travel over my face. I lift my hips encouragingly and he slides them off with a flourish, finally releasing my mouth to sit up and survey what he's getting out of this deal. I think he likes it. He takes a good, long look, his eyes widening slightly, and then he licks his lips again. It's a wanton move, full of hunger and anticipation, and my cock twitches in response.
That gets a grin out of him - one of those full-blooded, sexual grins that does nothing to lower my arousal level. He glances up at my face, his lips curled wolfishly, and then he lowers his head, lapping lightly, teasingly at my chest.
It appears that Sam isn't the only one with erogenous zones located there. Who knew?
He takes his time, moving down at a snail's pace until I'm about ready to scream with frustration. And even when he reaches my aching, heavy cock, he continues to tease, nuzzling in the curling hair around my groin rather than giving me what I really want. Remembering how good his mouth felt on me last time, I'm almost wild with anticipation. He knows that, of course, which is why he's deliberately drawing this out as long as he can.
Just when my self-control is about to snap, and I'm about to grab his head with both hands and more-or-less force my cock past those perfect lips of his, he takes pity on me, finally grasping my hardness in one hand and puffing hot air over the tip.
I let out a moan, unable to keep it in, and he gives me a sideways glance and another glimpse of that wolfish grin. Oh yeah, he's enjoying this a little too much, however given the - oh my god - sensations he's generating in me I'm more than willing to let it slide.
His mouth hovers over the end of my penis for a second, barely a hairsbreadth separating me from ecstasy, and then he leans forward, taking the tip into the inferno of his mouth.
This time I let out a harsh cry, my body jerking as I try to absorb the sensations, the pleasure I feel. He gives me no respite, his mouth moving smoothly on me, while his free hand reaches between my splayed legs and starts to fondle my balls.
Oh shit. He's definitely found my hotspot. He keeps this up I'm gonna...
He stops. I don't know whether to be relieved or disappointed. All I know is that I'm horny as hell. Almost unbearably so.
He lifts his head, meeting my gaze with eyes that are no longer gently mocking but reflect the same hunger as I feel. Again, we both move together, our mouths clashing as I catch hold of him, one hand clasped around the nape of his neck, holding him steady. And then it's my turn to roll him over, settling myself on top of him, between his legs so that our erections brush, sending lightning arcing through my body. I pull back with a gasp, meeting his eyes again, and now there's a look in them that on anyone else might be considered pleading.
"Lube?" I ask, my voice gravelly with arousal.
He closes his eyes briefly, an expression close to pain passing across his face. I know how he feels - to be so turned on it's almost painful. In fact, I'm close to feeling that now. And then he opens them again, meeting mine, the look in them still desperate.
"Bag. Front pocket."
I don't bother sitting up, just reaching out one hand to scrabble around in his bag where he's indicated. Success comes quickly, thankfully, and my hand arrives back not just with a small, white tube but also a small foil packet. His eyes light on them, and he lets out a small, satisfied sound, wriggling beneath me until I lift myself up sufficiently to let him roll over onto his front.
Looks like I'm the one doing the fucking. I have absolutely no problem with that. If ever there was an ass begging for it, it's his.
I take a deep breath, reminding myself of my promise to take this slowly but, oh Christ, it's hard when I'm confronted with the sight of that ass in all of its naked glory. There's a part of me, the primal, hungry part, that just wants to part those smooth cheeks and drive into him. It's the larger part at the moment, to be honest. However, I didn't get to survive either the SEALs or CI5 without learning some control. Consider it an assignment - drive Sammy boy completely out of his mind. Yeah. Assignment. I can do that.
I swallow heavily, my hand shaking slightly as I reach out and run it gently over Sam's back. He arches into my touch, making a noise suspiciously like a purr. I bite back on a laugh. I have a strong suspicion that my reserved and oh-so-English partner is a closet sensualist. And I fully intend to exploit that sensuality to the limit.
I follow my hand with my mouth, caressing the smooth, pale skin with my lips and tongue, my thumbs pressing lightly along the crease of his spine. He lets out a shuddering sigh, sliding his legs apart as my thumbs reach the hollow in the small of his back. I spread my hands, encompassing the globes of his buttocks, my thumbs now resting on the top of the dark crevasse that leads to what I crave.
My mouth reaches the small of his back and, lo, if I don't locate another hotspot. I'm on a very successful voyage of discovery this evening. And I haven't even got to my destination yet.
He shudders again as I slide my thumbs further down, using them to ease apart his flesh so that I can see my goal. The tiny pucker clenches and unclenches as I watch and, giving into temptation, I once again follow my thumbs with my tongue.
He gasps, writhing beneath me as my tongue flicks against the opening of his body, teasing and tormenting him with promises of what's to come. The muscle gives slightly under my questing tongue, a sign, I know, that he's more than ready for something considerably larger.
I can't wait any longer. I start to fumble with the tube, slicking my fingers with the clear gel inside so that I can finally ease into him.
I use my fingers first, sliding them past that tight ring of muscle, feeling it flutter as I stretch it and listening to the full-bodied groan he lets out. He's panting now, rocking back against my fingers as I twist and scissor them apart, loosening him.
It doesn't take long. If anything, he's even more eager for this consummation than I am. And that's damned eager. Before I remove my fingers, I push in a little deeper looking for, and finding, a small bump. I press on it lightly and he yelps, quivering as I withdraw my fingers entirely.
Yeah, that prostate thing's a bitch.
Grinning to myself, I open the tube again, smearing ample amounts of lube over my now condom clad erection. I wipe my hands off on his towel and then grasp his hips firmly before - finally - sliding into his tight heat.
Oh man, this is heaven. There is nothing - nothing - like this. Better even than flying an F16 - just.
He lets out another moan and I hesitate, wondering for a moment if it's pleasure or pain. Judging by the way he's bucking back against me, I'd say pleasure. Reassured, I recommence my slow push into his welcoming body.
He then says the first real thing he's said since this began, breathless and desperate.
My smugness rating goes off the scale.
I'm fully sheathed in him now, and stay still, fighting the urge to just pull out and slam back into him again, instead giving him time to adjust to my girth. Again, it doesn't take long, and he pushes back against me impatiently, a soft sound of protest escaping his lips at my slowness to give him what he needs.
I have to grin again, one born of amusement and joy, and not a little bliss at feeling him surround me. But I give him what he craves, pulling out slowly and sliding back into him smoothly.
He lets out another sound, something suspiciously close to a whimper and another shudder runs through his frame. He shifts position slightly, and it's my turn to gasp as the movement sends shards of pleasure through me, his muscles tightening around me briefly.
I start to move within him, keeping it slow and steady at first but I can't keep up that pace for long. Not when every movement has him making those little sounds, those little half-gasps, half-moans, near whimpers. I never realised that my cool, reserved partner could be quite so vocal, and it's all because of me. I'm the one driving him to this, breaking past those walls, those barriers he keeps up. The thought is intensely arousing, and I have to move faster, picking up the tempo until I'm almost slamming into him.
He takes it. He takes all of it. Everything I have to give him and still he wants more, pushing back frantically against my thrusts, still making those noises, the ones that are driving me out of my fucking mind.
Oh Christ. This is incredible. He's incredible. Being in him is incredible. Oh fuck.
I can feel the pressure building up in my spine, my skin tingling as I strive for the climax that's hovering just out of reach. I don't think Sam's much better. His fingers are clawing at the carpet beneath him and he's almost writhing beneath my touch as I run my hands over his flank, along his sides. I slide one hand underneath him, grasping his neglected erection firmly, and he gasps out my name, jerking against me. I pick up a steady rhythm, echoing the one I'm driving into his body, hopefully creating a counterpoint of pleasure for him. It seems to work; he lets out another of those erotic sounds, the cords in his neck tightening and the muscles in his shoulders and back tightening under his smooth skin as he throws his head back.
He's beautiful, set out before me like a banquet and, unable to resist, I lower my mouth and fasten it on the skin of his shoulder, holding him steady with one arm around his waist even as my other hand continues to stroke his cock. His frame tenses against me and then he lets out a sharp cry, louder than any that's come before, and judders, jerking against me as his cock leaps in my hand, spilling his seed over my fingers and the towel beneath us. His body tightens around mine in powerful waves, almost dragging my orgasm out of me. My balls tighten, and tendrils of fire course up and down my spine, centring on my groin as I explode within him.
I slump against him, my breath teasing the hairs at the back of his neck as he sighs and turns his head slightly. I realise I'm pressing him into the floor, and mutter an apology as I roll off him, easing myself from his body.
He makes a sleepy sound of protest, and I press another kiss against his sweaty skin, wrapping my arms around him as he snuggles - and there's no other word for that either - against me. We lie there for a long moment, just luxuriating in the aftermath I suppose, until I finally rouse myself sufficiently to use the towel to tenderly wipe him clean. He chuckles softly at my ministrations, probably enjoying the sight of this side of me, his tough and touchy partner cleaning him off after an earth-shattering orgasm, but I don't feel the need to be touchy or tough, or anything really. Just satiated and content.
I finally clamber to my feet, grabbing at the towel to hold in front of me as I sneak a peek at the window to check the coast is clear. It is, so I rise to my feet, telling him I'm going to the bathroom to wash up. He makes a soft sound of acknowledgement, seemingly happy to continue lying on the floor, so with a last amused look in his direction I head into the small bathroom.
I'm sweaty and tired - a good tired - but take the time to shower and freshen up. When I return to the bedroom, the curtains are now closed and Sam is under the covers of one of the beds, looking sleepy and tousled and goddamned edible. Our bags have been dumped haphazardly on the other bed, so I'm assuming that we do get to share. On that happy thought, I crawl in next to him, cuddling up against his back.
"Hey," he says. No other words are really needed.
"Hey," I say back, pulling him into my arms. He comes happily enough. I think he's close to drifting off but my curiosity won't be silenced quite yet. "So how many did we break?"
"Hmmm?" He raises his head to peer at me sleepily. "Oh. Six, at least."
"Oral?" I hazard.
I start ticking them off on my fingers. "Blinds open? And not in the missionary position?"
"Yes and yes."
"And on the floor?"
"You're on the ball tonight."
I ignore the gentle humour in his voice, still too busy trying to figure out what we've done. I've got five. What the hell was the sixth then?
I puzzle over it for a while, to no avail, while he watches me, his head propped up on one elbow. I don't want to give in, not wanting to be beaten by something as simple or as irritating as this but eventually something in his eyes tells me that I won't get it, no matter how long I try to figure it out. Like I said - to read Sam you need to know to watch his eyes.
They turn a little sad I think, although that throws me for a moment, wondering if he's having regrets, but no. And his next words both appal me and make me wonder why I didn't think of it before.
"We're both men, Chris."
Oh. There's not a hell of a lot I can say to that. He's watching me seriously, and so I say the only thing I can, really.
"Some laws, Sammy, are just made to be broken."