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[Oct. 15th, 2007|04:25 pm] |
First Burn Notice fanfic!
Title: One for the Money
Pairing: Sam/Michael
Rating: R
Wordcount: Around 1,310
Warnings: None
An open container of yogurt stood on the window sill, telling Michael someone had been in his fridge again. Sure enough, there was a suspicious space between the pile of raspberry yogurt, and the peach. A teasing layer of smoke lingered in the air, a mate to the cigarette butt on the coffee table.
There was something familiar about the situation. The apartment had a staged feel to it, the yogurt on the sill the prop, the smoke an incentive. The couch was left alone, where Michael had expected it to be in lazy disarray. The intruder was smart, coaxing suspicion carefully.
Letting his towel fall to the ground, Michael stretched out on the couch imploringly. Without Fi he didn’t have to abide by any social standing. The most he had to worry about was an agent knocking on his door.
A flash of green caught his eye. There on the coffee table, neatly folded between a glass coaster and a celebrity magazine, lay a pristine dollar bill. It felt as new between his fingers as it looked. If it meant what he thought it did, he was in deep shit.
Michael did remember the previous night, getting smashed with Fiona and Sam. He didn’t drink for a reason. Alcohol not only lowered one’s inhibitions, it made you forget that with actions there were consequences. And with consequences came guilt and a loose wallet. Last night was fun, he’d admit that much. Michael missed having friends, or at least friendly colleagues he could relate to.
“I didn’t know you smoked.” When the last word whisked its way out of Michael’s mouth the elongated shadow in the corner took on shape.
“Yeah; it’s not a good habit.” Sam looked nervous, guilty.
Michael smiled, knowing it would either give Sam a false sense of security, or further fluster him. Either one would work.
“I’m not very good at this,” Sam said with a sigh. Normally it would have induced pity, but Michael wasn’t up for that kind of vulnerable feeling. There was already enough hesitation in the room for the both of them. He didn’t bother covering his bare lap, crossing his legs so his feet pointed to the coffee table and the evidence.
“Is this yours?” Sam didn’t even bother to look at the dollar bill. Michael put it down, realizing the situation had escalated too far for theatrics.
“I don’t take back what I said last night,” Michael spoke in a muted tone, hoping to invoke something out of the other man besides fear. How had he put it in the bar? ‘I’d suck your dick for a buck.’ Yes, that was it.
Sam looked positively terrified. It was charming in an annoying sort of way.
Michael got to his feet without modesty, taking pains to show it. He had no reservations, and he wanted Sam to know that. Feeling a bit like a peace offering, he walked to Sam naked, barefoot and unashamed. If this was going to work he’d have to let Sam think he was the one in control.
“Is this okay?” Michael felt like he was asking himself the same question. Was this okay? Taking a deep breath he allowed his tactical side to take over. The objective: to strengthen their ties, not break them.
Sam nodded and Michael got to his knees. The floor bit at them, promising later pain and refusing to yield. He wished he’d thought to give Sam a quick kiss first, but he couldn’t get back up now without giving the other man time for second thoughts.
Sam fumbled with his belt and Michael enjoyed the show for several seconds. He stopped Sam with a hand, and undid the belt and the fastenings on the khakis. Inside, Sam's cock waited for him with an urgent patience. Michael laid a hand on it, feeling the kind of power only cocksuckers got to experience. He kneaded with his fingers, the flesh was firm and warm in his hand. It felt good.
The little groan Sam gave told him he was doing pretty good so far. Michael dove headfirst into the open khakis, leaving any hesitation he had had, far behind. Coarse hair tickled his nose and his nostrils flared at the onslaught of a heady scent. He’d missed that musky, masculine smell.
Michael licked around the cock, employing the ever-useful ‘lollipop’ technique, dragging the flat base of his tongue all the way up the shaft. He met the purpling head, where heat collected and made the tight skin hot to the touch. Sam was coming along nicely; the awkward silence had long since disappeared, leaving only the occasional grunt or sigh. Hands cradled his head and Michael relaxed into the grip.
All at once the hands tightened and what had been a comfortable hold became a painful brace. Michael’s face was smashed into the cock he’d been working on so carefully. He growled in irritation, but Sam answered with a growl of his own and his hands were relentless as he was being facefucked without mercy
He was about to call it quits when he felt something hot and intrusive burst on his tongue. Sam was still coming when he let go of Michael’s head, the skin of his thighs pressed against Michael’s cheeks. Michael held the cock in his mouth long after it went flaccid, storing as much of the memory as he still could. He wanted to remember this in the morning.
Sam pulled out and Michael remained with his face raised the air, mouth puckered. He held the come in his mouth for a long time, feeling its sticky texture with his tongue, swishing the liquid around until it became a frothy mess. Finally, he swallowed with a loud gulp. Sam winced.
“Um, thanks.” Michael craned his neck up to see Sam’s face. He looked sated and content, but guilty. That was fine; it was only the kind of guilt that came with taking advantage of someone and not feeling bad about it. Sam made the motions of walking away and Michael grabbed the nearest leg.
“Don’t be a stranger,” he whispered, voice hoarse. Sam shook his head. He gazed down at Michael as if seeing him for the first time. Michael wondered about himself, as well. It took a certain kind of person to get to his knees without shame or regret, and suck his friend’s cock as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Up until now, Michael hadn’t considered himself that kind of person.
Sam left quickly and quietly. A whiff of smoke lingered in the air, but the taste of come overpowered it.
The End |
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