Archive of Our Own

Sam had been sitting at the bar for nearly thirty minutes by the time the guy sat in the corner - broad shoulders, solid thighs, not-quite-stubble covering his lower jaw -  finally worked up the courage to come over and slide into the seat next to him.

Sam smiled. "Took you long enough."

"What can I say?" the guy shrugged. "View was pretty good from back there." He smirked, like he knew that Sam had been flexing on purpose, which, okay: guilty as charged.

"And what about up close?" Sam asked, leaning in to speak over the noise around them, close enough to bump their knees together. Beneath the thick warmth of the bar and the people packed in around them, there was a different note in the air: damn, the guy smelled good.

The guy pulled back enough to give Sam a long surveying look, the kind that had heat pooling in his belly, before getting in close again, the tip of his boot brushing against Sam's ankle.

"I'd say it's pretty damn fine," he murmured, voice low, and then his face cracked and he laughed, a little ruefully, sitting back and scrubbing a hand over his face and settling forward again, tucking a few stray strands of hair behind his ear. "Sorry, I -- it's been a while; I'm not very good at this."

"I'd say you're doing pretty well so far," Sam encouraged. "No complaints from me," he added, at the disbelieving look on the guy's face.

"So I should keep going?"

Sam nodded, unable to help the teasing grin from spreading across his face. He made a short motion with his hand: "Please."

"Buy you a drink?" asked the guy.

"Sure," Sam replied, watching the flex of muscle in the guy's shoulders, visible beneath his shirt, as he leaned forward and gestured to the barman. A few moments later, their drinks slid across the bar.

"I'm James," the guy said, reaching out and nudging the drink towards Sam, the warm brush of their fingers in sharp contrast to the coolness of the glass.

"Nice to meet you, James," said Sam. He slowly ran a finger up the side of his glass, catching a drip of condensation. "I'm Sam."

+++

Things were going well. Sure, Sam was in a new city, but the rhythm of this was, at least, familiar: the casual eye-contact across the room, the introduction, the drink (now drinks), the easy flirtation. It was comforting, almost, to find that this hadn't changed, that it still came easy -- or at least, that's what he’d thought, up until the final beat, when he’d asked:

"So -- you want to get out of here?"

James looked down at his drink, curling his fingers around the half-empty glass, and gave Sam a tight smile, and Sam felt it like a punch to the chest, because damn. He’d been so sure . But you didn’t have a job like Sam’s without learning to roll with the punches, so he put his game face on, preparing to brush it off, except that James’s hand came up and rested lightly on his wrist: wait.  

"I don't -- do this much," James started, brow furrowed as he stared into his glass. After a few moments he looked up and caught the look on Sam's face, and continued quickly on, "but: I'd like to. Do this," he clarified, reaching out and tentatively putting a hand on Sam's knee, slow enough to give Sam time to pull away. He didn't.

“Okay,” Sam said, beginning to smile. “I can work with that.”

+++

Whatever hesitance James had had before seemed to have faded during their walk over, because before they’d even made it inside Sam’s building he leaned in and kissed Sam, chaste at first, but quickly becoming wet and dirty once Sam pulled them both inside and pinned James up against the wall.  

It took them a while, but they managed to make it up to Sam’s apartment eventually, both flushed, their clothes a mess, James’s mouth looking swollen and kiss-bruised. As Sam fumbled for his key he had the sudden thought of what Mrs. Weinstein across the hall might say if she saw them like this, and he let out a burst of blurry laughter that quickly quietened into a low moan when James got up close behind him and slid a hand down Sam’s front, running a teasing finger down the front of the zipper on his jeans.

It took Sam a few tries to actually get the key into the door, impeded partly by the warm haze of alcohol, partly by the delicious scrape of teeth as James got in close and nibbled at his ear but mostly just because he hadn't lived here long enough to get the muscle memory of it yet, a fact which quickly became apparent when they got inside and picked up where they left off, kissing fiercely and stripping the other's clothes off in the dark  -- or trying to, anyway, since they kept bumping into what felt like every single piece of furniture Sam owned.

"Fuck it," Sam gasped a little breathlessly, reaching over behind James and fumbling for the lightswitch, after the fourth muffled "ow" James laughed into his shoulder.

Now that the light was on Sam took a few seconds to get his bearings before turning back to James -- and stopping short, because the guy had a huge, dark bruise on his left shoulder - vibrant against his pale skin, like he’d taken a bad hit from something heavy.  

“Damn, you should get some ice on that,” Sam said, concerned. He brushed his hand over it, palpating where the bruising was darkest. James yelped.

“Shit -- sorry,” Sam said, stepping back and remembering that there was a time and a place for patient assessment, and this wasn’t it.

James rubbed at his shoulder. “You a doctor or something?”

“Something like that,” Sam replied, flicking the light off again - he’d oriented himself now. He leaned in and brushed his mouth over the edge of the bruise in apology for poking it. An apology that was accepted, judging by the way James ducked his head and captured his mouth in a kiss that started gentle but didn’t stay that way for very long.    

“How’d it happen?” Sam said a few minutes later, when they came up for air.

"Perks of the job." James mouthed at Sam's jaw, hands going to Sam's waist and unfastening his belt.

The rasp of the zipper - moving what felt like a millimetre at a time; James was a goddamn tease - combined with the pressure of James's hand made Sam's breath hitch.  "What are you -- some kind of -- ultimate fighter?"

James dropped to his knees before easing Sam's jeans down his thighs, just enough for him to lean in and press his mouth to Sam's cloth-covered dick, feeling it twitch beneath his tongue.

"Something like that," he said, smirking, before pulling away a little and looking up through his eyelashes. "This okay?"

"No complaints from me," Sam repeated, the same way he had before, though this time the teasing tone was somewhat undercut by the shakiness of his voice as he looked down at James, at his broad solid shoulders and his red wet mouth as he licked his lips. Sam felt his dick twitch again; Christ, he could come just from the view.

"So I should keep going?" James murmured as he leaned in again, flicking his tongue against the puckered scar on Sam's belly - thankfully, without asking what it was from - before nosing at the line of hair leading down into Sam' boxers.

Sam slid his hand down on to James' uninjured shoulder, relishing in the feel of smooth muscle rippling beneath his fingers.  

"Please," he said, groaning aloud when James finally relented; he pulled Sam's boxers out of the way and wrapped warm fingers around his dick, pinning it to his belly. James leaned in and licked a slow stripe up the length, starting at Sam's balls and ending with a gentle suck at the very tip, drawing it into his mouth a little at a time before pulling back and dragging the flat of his tongue over the head, lapping up the beads of precome as he started to pump his hand.  

James seemed hesitant to get the whole thing in his mouth, and his coordination was a little off; not that it mattered, because what he lacked in finesse he made up for in enthusiasm, and there was something about the feeling of his tongue flicking between his fingers that was so deliciously filthy that it felt like no time at all before Sam's balls were drawing tight. With a slight pressure of his hand on James’s shoulder, Sam pulled back with a panted, "Fuck -- fuck, hold on," the respite allowing him to ease back from the edge he'd been teetering on.  

"Okay?" James said, wiping his slick mouth. Sam glanced down at him and realised he wasn't as far from the edge as he'd thought as another surge of heat zinged up his spine; if James had looked good before, that was nothing compared to now.   

Sam reached down and pulled James to his feet. He sighed at the feeling of all that warm skin pressed up against his own and the rough scratch of James’s chest hair against his nipples as he got a hand around James's shoulders and pulled him in for an enthusiastic kiss. "'Okay?' he asks,” Sam mimicked. “Yeah, that was pretty damn okay." He thrust his hips a little, groaning at the friction of James' clothed erection dragging against his own. "Bed?"

"Sure," James said, and then "Can I?", his hands sliding down to Sam's ass, his thighs.

"If you can--" Sam started, teasing; but this night had been full of surprises, so it was with only a small amount of shock that he felt himself being picked up, instinctively wrapping his legs around James' waist as James lifted him bodily, adjusted to the weight and then started walking towards the bedroom, mouthing at Sam's jaw the entire time.  

The pause as James's knees hit the edge of the mattress was the only warning Sam had before James leaned down and lowered him carefully down on to the bed. The display of strength sent another surge of heat through Sam, all the way to the tip of his dick, where another blurt of pre-come spilled out, drooling over his knuckles when he reached down and closed his fingers around the head, pumping slowly.

James groaned a little at the sight, getting on to the bed and knee-walking until he was straddling Sam. His breath hitched when Sam's knuckles brushed against his fabric-covered balls.

"Fuck, you're so," James started, voice cut off by a breathy moan when Sam sat up and flicked a thumb over his nipple, the noise turning more high-pitched when Sam pressed at it with the flat of his thumb before leaning in and dragging his tongue over the other one. James's hips jerked, rubbing the very tip of his clothed erection against the flat of Sam's belly; so Sam got mean about it, scraping his teeth over James's nipple and sucking it into his mouth before licking across James's chest and laving at the other one, revelling in the wrecked noises James was beginning to make.

"I'm going to -- come if you keep doing that," James panted, groaning again when Sam bit gently at the underside of his pec. "You got condoms?"

"Yeah, yeah," Sam mouthed against flushed skin, then flicked his tongue soothingly over where he'd just bitten and pulled back. He nodded towards the nightstand, out of his reach with James pinning him like this.

James reached over into the drawer, making a breathless noise of pleasure that turned into a laugh as he fumbled for the lube, because Sam was currently taking the opportunity to pull James's boxers down enough to brush his thumb over the head, smearing the wetness there.

By the time he had lube and condom in hand, James was wild-eyed, trying not to buck into Sam’s hand. He pulled back enough to get his boxers all the way off before settling back in Sam’s lap, knees on either side of Sam’s waist.

“Want me to,” Sam glanced at the lube.

James shook his head, “I got it.”

“Okay,” Sam said easily, sitting back against the headboard to watch.

With one hand James flicked the cap of the lube, squirting it onto the fingers of his other hand and smearing it around wetly. He reached back behind him, and pressed his fingers inside; too fast, judging by the way James's mouth went tight and he winced, but didn't slow.

"Easy, easy," Sam soothed, smoothing a hand up James's thigh, the other running down James's back, curving over his ass and squeezing a little, encouraging. He dragged a finger across to where two of James's were thrusting inside in a way that seemed just the wrong side of painful. Sam brushed a hand over James's wrist, and James's fingers stopped moving. "Can I?"

"Fuck, I," James said, voice oddly tight, stopping short when Sam pressed a warm kiss against his collarbone. "Yeah, okay," he continued breathily, sliding his fingers free. Then, smirking: "S'all yours."

Sam picked up the lube, squeezing it out onto his fingers. He eased back around and pressed the pad of one finger against where James was already slick. There was some give, there; but not enough for Sam to be comfortable with just sticking his fingers in, so: Plan B. With the fingers of one hand he slowly traced at James's rim, feeling it twitch beneath his fingertips, while his other hand closed firmly around James's dick, which had wilted slightly. He kept his movements slow, teasing, waiting until James's hips were beginning to twitch, his hole loosening beneath Sam's finger, which Sam rubbed around a little more, making sure it was fully slick, before easing it inside.

"Fffffffuck," James exhaled, breath shaking, eyes clenched shut. His dick twitched in Sam's hand, hips moving more erratically.

"Good?" Sam asked. He flicked his tongue against James's nipple, feeling the hot silky warmth of him clench around his finger as he thrust it slowly in and out.

"It's -- ah -- okay, I guess," James panted in reply, opening his eyes to give Sam a look that made it pretty damn clear that Sam was taking him apart piece by piece.

After a few minutes James rolled his hips, insistent. "Gimme another," he said, and Sam obliged, adding a third after a few minutes more. He crooked his fingers, held them still, and sat back for a while, drinking in the sight of James twitching back and forth between the hand on his dick and the fingers inside him, mouth open and wet and curved into a smile. The sight had Sam shifting until his dick pressed up against the tight swell of James's balls; they both gasped at the sensation, and then James ducked down and got a hand around the back of Sam's neck, pulling him in for a fierce kiss. When they pulled apart, James's eyes were dark, and hungry. "Come on," he murmured, getting a hand between them and giving Sam's cock a long, slow stroke. "Fuck me."

The words were like a suckerpunch of the best kind, all of the air leaving Sam's lungs at once.

“Okay,” he said, the rhythm of it coming so easy: getting the condom on, slicking himself up, easing James up and spreading him apart, their hands laced together over Sam’s dick as James sank down slowly and eased it inside; the both of them groaning, trying not to go too fast, until Sam’s balls were pressed up against James’s ass and they both stilled, panting, for a moment. James’s face was frozen in pleasure -- and something else, too, something unreadable that in the moment Sam didn’t have the mental energy to decipher, but made him pause to check.

“This okay?” he asked, and James’s face thawed, fixing Sam with a look that made him hot all over, like they both weren’t already slick with sweat.

“Thought I asked you to fuck me,” he said, rolling his hips, heaving himself nearly off Sam’s cock before sliding back down again, the thick muscle of his thighs flexing and shuddering beneath Sam’s hands -- they were both close, already; this wouldn’t last long.

“I can do that,” Sam said, leaning in and biting at James’s lip, drawing a low moan out of him. He pulled back, settled his hands on James’s solid hips, and then they were off: James keeping still and letting Sam really give it to him, dragging his cock in and out of James and feeling James’s heavy dick spurt and drool pre-come against both their bellies, adding to the slickness of sweat as they slipped and slid against each other.

Just when he felt James’s balls beginning to draw up tight, Sam stopped, easing James back down and sliding his hands from James’s waist to ass, his thighs, one finger tracing the edge of his rim, where Sam’s dick was stretching him tight. James let out a shocked, hot sound, putting his hands on the headboard on either side of Sam’s head and arching his back. He started off slow, rolling his hips in a smooth, dirty grind, building it up slow, teasing. In pay-back Sam pressed in close and bit at his nipple, pressing the nail of his thumb against the other one.

The action was like a spark on gasoline; James groaned, his movements getting frantic, flexing his thighs to angle Sam’s dick exactly where he wanted it and then shoving back against it, greedy now, his breath shuddering in his chest as his dick swelled. Sam reached down and got a hand around it, jerking it quickly, drawing him to the edge and then over it, James’s groans getting more breathy and then silent as he gave it up, come spurting between them. The rhythmic clench of his ass tightening reminded Sam with a choked gasp exactly how close he was to his own orgasm, and seemed to remind James, too; after a few more seconds he stopped shuddering, loose all over now that’d he come but determined to work through the oversensitivity. He cocked his head invitingly, almost like it was a challenge: come on.

Sam got a hard grip on his hips and thrust up hard, feeling James shudder and shake beneath his hands, biting his red lips and looking absolutely destroyed, with this look on his face - pleasure and happiness and longing and so many other threads that Sam wanted to pick apart, but then he was coming hard, gasping with it. After a few seconds he slumped exhausted against James, who eased himself off slowly with a wet noise, peeled off the condom and then guided Sam to lie down. His eyes closed, and when he opened them again James was sitting up beside him, tissues in hand, gently wiping the come off Sam’s belly. After a few moments he seemed to sense Sam watching him, and finished cleaning himself up before trashing the tissues and turning to face Sam. He was smiling - a faint echo of the look Sam had seen on his face after he’d come - but there was something closed off about it, too: he was going to leave. Sam knew it.

But James had said his apartment wasn’t exactly close, and it was late, and he’d just given Sam the best orgasm he’d had in -- maybe ever, and most of all Sam was getting cold, so it was easy to slide beneath the covers and hold them open, inviting. “Keep me warm?”

James looked surprised, and then his face cracked into a smile - a real one, this time. “Okay,” he said, and then he moved in close and lay down on his back. When Sam slung an arm over his waist he felt a warm weight on his hand as James covered it with his own; and Sam was struck with the sudden realisation that maybe James hadn’t been preparing to leave; maybe he’d been preparing himself for Sam to tell him to leave.

They lay in comfortable silence for a while, Sam slowly drifting off into the deep sleep of the thoroughly-fucked, but when James spoke he blinked his eyes open again.

"Thank you, for -- you know. That was, uh. That was fuckin’ incredible.”

Sam huffed a sleepy laugh into the pillow.

“You say that like it was your first time.”

When James stilled, Sam looked up, jolting back into wakefulness when he saw the expression on James’s face.

"Wait -- that was--?" Sam tried to keep the surprise out of his face, but he wasn’t sure he managed it.

James took a few seconds to answer. "Well, there was one time in college, but. Yeah. Kind of, I guess."

Which answered some things - his moments of hesitation throughout the night, the way he pushed himself too hard, at first - though Sam had so many questions too: but -- you were so confident? why now? why me? But James had trailed off into silence, and Sam sensed that there was more he was still figuring out how to put into words. He waited.

"My parents were kind of -- conservative," James said after a while, voice quiet in the darkness. "But I guess it was mostly just me: took me a long time to. Accept it, or whatever." His voice cracked, and then he laughed, a harsh scrape of a noise. He scrubbed his hand over his face. "Sorry, this is -- stupid, I don't know why the fuck I'm telling you this," he said, shifting like he was about to get out of bed.

Sam reached out and put a gentle hand on his wrist, rubbing his thumb over James's racing pulse. "Hey, man," he said. "I'm glad you told me. I'm sorry it wasn't easy for you, but. You're here now, right? You got there eventually. Also," Sam added, letting his smile bleed into his voice as he felt James's pulse even out, "I'm real glad you picked me."

James rolled over, turning onto his side to face Sam. The thin bars of light filtering between the gaps in the blinds cut across his face, illuminating the sharp line of his jaw, his furrowed brow, his dark eyes as he gave Sam a long, searching gaze, before leaning in and brushing their mouths together, in a way that somehow felt more intimate than any of the kisses that came before. 

"Yeah," James murmured. "I'm real glad I picked you too."