"Fun and Conversation VS Good Ol' Fashion Lubrication" (1/1)
by Marie-Claude Danis
FEEDBACK: Snort. Sure.
DISTRIB: Snort. Sure. Just ask.
SUMMARY: "'There's nothing to do' is the most naive thing I've ever heard."
I almost apologise for this. Just getting this scene outta my head. Title from the ever-clever Martina Sorbara.
* * *
Josh braced his arm on Sam's knee and grinned up at him, licking the corner of his mouth clean with a shit-eating grin. "Morning, Samuel."
Sam lifted his head from the back of his desk chair and stared down at him, eyes bugging dumbly from behind his skewed glasses. "Hello, Joshua," he managed to croak out.
Josh snickered and kissed the small triangle of flesh that peeked from between the parted flaps of Sam's shirt before zipping him back up efficiently. "I didn't have time to stop at the bagel place, so I thought I'd..."
"Well that's fine, but *I'm* still hungry," Sam smirked, impressed at his own ability to joke, let alone speak coherently with his genitals still wet from someone else's saliva. Sam tucked his shirt back in while Josh just sat back on the floor next to his chair, knees up in an awkward - but somehow cute, he thought - position.
Sam's brow creased suddenly, and he took on an air like he was about to argue the fine points of an address instead of an impromptu good-morning blow-job. "Say, didn't we agree to not do this anymore?"
"I'm not very reasonable."
Sam nodded, with a small Sam-smile. "Then officially I object to this, but - just officially."
Josh got to his feet ungracefully, and ran a hand through his disheveled hair, looking around Sam's office distractedly. He smacked his lips, making a face. "I need a mint."
"Coat. Left pocket."
He found the Altoids and popped a few in his mouth. He leaned against the locked door, flipping the metal box between his fingers, gaze still roaming around Sam's office like he'd never seen it from this angle before.
"Did you move things around?"
"Because it looks--"
"It's exactly the same."
Josh nodded, not convinced. "Huh."
Suddenly a loud banging on the door propelled Josh off of it. He clutched at his pounding heart, looking at the offensive surface. "Jesus CHR--"
"How does she know you're in here?"
"She knows everything."
"Does she know we..."
"She knows everything."
"JOSHUA! I know you're in there."
Josh pursed his lips. "What do you want!"
Josh looked at his watch, puzzled. "For what?"
"I'm late for the thing?"
"And don't even start with the watch."
Josh had the distinct impression there was a word there between 'the' and 'watch'. Then he remembered the thing. "Oh right, the thing! I'll be right out!"
He waited, but no further comment came, and he turned to Sam, who was still sitting primly at his desk. "I gotta go."
"So I hear."
"How's your day?"
"Well it started out with a bang."
"You free for lunch?"
"'Kay." Josh unlocked the door and stepped out.
"Wanna do lunch?" Sam called out after him.
"Oh, we'll do lunch alright," he answered from further down the hall.
Sam sat there for a moment, grinning nervously at the people looking at him questioningly from the communications bullpen. Then he went back to work on whatever the hell it was he'd been working on before Josh had barged in.
(With no bagels).