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teffyStakeout
NC-17
Michael Rosenbaum/Tom Welling
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kashmir1 wrote this and all of us squeed. Then I wrote this. And then bugchicklv wrote this. Thus...kashmir1 had hooked us all on her awesome AU.
Stakeouts were supposed to be boring, lots of sitting in a car and waiting for the right words to be heard over the audio surveillance feed. Stakeouts were most definitely not supposed to make him this horny, but Michael suspected that had something to do with the way his over-caffeinated partner was practically trying to crawl into his lap, not the stakeout itself.
"Jesus, Welling. I'm not getting you a venti ever again." He gasped as Tom's hand moved across the waistband of his pants. "You're such a coffee slut." He murmured teasingly.
Tom grinned, happy and boyish and sexy and...no one had the right ot have a mouth that pretty . He slid across the seat, pressing Michael against the door and brushed long fingers over his hip. Tom nuzzled along his jaw. "Tell me what you want." He whispered.
"You know what I want." Michael challenged with a moan, fingers threading through his partner's hair. A vicious tug was all it took to have that mouth pressed against his own.
The hand on his hip shifted lower, plunging under the waistband of his pants. Michael tried not to, but he couldn't help it when his hips arched up into that touch.
That smug smirk was back again and Tom nipped at his bottom lip. "You want to come like this. With my hands on you, all over you." He breathed hotly. "Then tomorrow, during the morning briefing, you'll lean over, whispering to me how good it felt and how you can't wait to be inside me."
Tom's hand moved faster and faster, slapping up and down on his cock and the noise was absolutely obscene in the small interior of the car. It sounded fucking beautiful.
Michael clenched his jaw, already feeling the heat pooling in his belly.
"God, Mike...d'you know how hard that makes me?" Tom continued desperately. "Feeling your eyes on me all day. The things you tell me when no one else is around. The way you find any excuse to touch me, brushing past me in the hallway, leaning over me when I'm at my desk..."
Michael wrapped an arm around Tom's back, scrambling for something to hold onto and settled for his belt. The motion crushed their hips together and he winced when his belt buckle dug into the exposed skin of his belly. But then Tom did something with his hand that had him shuddering, and a sharp cry tearing from his throat as he came.
Bringing his fingers back up to tangle in Tom's hair, he kissed him hungrily. His partner whimpered, pulling his hand out of Michael's pants to press his palm along the front of his own fly.
Michael glanced up at him with wide eyes. "Did you just-"
"Yeah, I think I did." He answered sheepishly.
"Oh, fuck me, that's adorable." Michael said with a wide grin, nudging his nose along his cheek. "And fucking sexy as hell." He added with a needy whisper.
Tom buried his face in the crook of his neck, slumping against him with a contented sigh lifting his hand to trace over the small scar on Michael's upper lip.
Michael cleaned his fingers with a few lazy swipes of his tongue. "Gonna be an interesting briefing tomorrow morning, Tommy."
A needy groan was the only reply.
NC-17
Michael Rosenbaum/Tom Welling
kashmir1 wrote this and all of us squeed. Then I wrote this. And then bugchicklv wrote this. Thus...kashmir1 had hooked us all on her awesome AU. Stakeouts were supposed to be boring, lots of sitting in a car and waiting for the right words to be heard over the audio surveillance feed. Stakeouts were most definitely not supposed to make him this horny, but Michael suspected that had something to do with the way his over-caffeinated partner was practically trying to crawl into his lap, not the stakeout itself.
"Jesus, Welling. I'm not getting you a venti ever again." He gasped as Tom's hand moved across the waistband of his pants. "You're such a coffee slut." He murmured teasingly.
Tom grinned, happy and boyish and sexy and...no one had the right ot have a mouth that pretty . He slid across the seat, pressing Michael against the door and brushed long fingers over his hip. Tom nuzzled along his jaw. "Tell me what you want." He whispered.
"You know what I want." Michael challenged with a moan, fingers threading through his partner's hair. A vicious tug was all it took to have that mouth pressed against his own.
The hand on his hip shifted lower, plunging under the waistband of his pants. Michael tried not to, but he couldn't help it when his hips arched up into that touch.
That smug smirk was back again and Tom nipped at his bottom lip. "You want to come like this. With my hands on you, all over you." He breathed hotly. "Then tomorrow, during the morning briefing, you'll lean over, whispering to me how good it felt and how you can't wait to be inside me."
Tom's hand moved faster and faster, slapping up and down on his cock and the noise was absolutely obscene in the small interior of the car. It sounded fucking beautiful.
Michael clenched his jaw, already feeling the heat pooling in his belly.
"God, Mike...d'you know how hard that makes me?" Tom continued desperately. "Feeling your eyes on me all day. The things you tell me when no one else is around. The way you find any excuse to touch me, brushing past me in the hallway, leaning over me when I'm at my desk..."
Michael wrapped an arm around Tom's back, scrambling for something to hold onto and settled for his belt. The motion crushed their hips together and he winced when his belt buckle dug into the exposed skin of his belly. But then Tom did something with his hand that had him shuddering, and a sharp cry tearing from his throat as he came.
Bringing his fingers back up to tangle in Tom's hair, he kissed him hungrily. His partner whimpered, pulling his hand out of Michael's pants to press his palm along the front of his own fly.
Michael glanced up at him with wide eyes. "Did you just-"
"Yeah, I think I did." He answered sheepishly.
"Oh, fuck me, that's adorable." Michael said with a wide grin, nudging his nose along his cheek. "And fucking sexy as hell." He added with a needy whisper.
Tom buried his face in the crook of his neck, slumping against him with a contented sigh lifting his hand to trace over the small scar on Michael's upper lip.
Michael cleaned his fingers with a few lazy swipes of his tongue. "Gonna be an interesting briefing tomorrow morning, Tommy."
A needy groan was the only reply.
