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Michael tried not to fidget too noticeably as he leaned against the worktable. Sam sat across from him in Mike's favorite chair, beer sweating merrily in his hand. He took a long drag from it before finally setting it aside and eyeing Michael.

"Jeeze, Mikey, relax. Fi can handle herself. She knows what she's doing." Michael shifted in place before glancing over at the listening equipment. By now, it should have lit up, sparked to life, indicated in some way that Fiona had indeed planted it where it was meant to be. He checked his watch.

"Mikey." Michael sighed and pushed himself away from the table, slowly making his way to the fridge. He reached in for a bottle when Sam piped up again. "Hey, grab me another while you're in there, will ya? This baby's almost on empty." Michael rolled his eyes but grinned as he grabbed Sam a second beer. He placed it next to him on the counter and screwed the top off his own, making his way back to where he was somewhat comfortably leaning.

Michael only took a quick sip from his bottle before he lowered the beer from his mouth. He watched, waited, disinterested, staring through his companion until Sam picked up his bottle and tipped it back, intending to finish off the last of his drink. Mike used that brief moment to whip around and glance across the counter again at the listening equipment and his phone, hoping for that slightest bit of communication that he may have missed.

"Oh come on Mikey, like I wasn't gonna notice that," Sam said as he placed the now empty bottle beside him. Michael swung back around and opened his mouth to say something, but Sam cut him off. "Seriously, what's with you today? You're not usually this worried about Fi doing something as simple as planting a bug." Michael shrugged. "Is it because of what happened this afternoon?"

"Yeah, well, it didn't exactly go as planned, Sam," Michael grumbled, fussing with the label on his bottle. "That, and I just don't like sending her anywhere without backup, especially if it's against someone like-"

"Okay okay, point made, Mike. But you know how she is when she does these sorts of things. That woman's touch is about as delicate as a brick to the teeth. Her finesse takes time." Mike laughed softly through his nose.

"I know Sam, I just- I'd feel better if I was there." Sam shifted forward in his seat and rested his arms on his knees.

"We just gotta get you focused on something else. Want me to show you what works for my lady friends?" Sam wiggled his eyebrows playfully and Mike rolled his eyes again.


"Michael? Can you hear me?" It was whispered and wrapped in static, but Fiona's voice finally floated through the speakers of the surveillance equipment.

"Fiona!" Michael dashed over to their setup and leaned in close to the speakers.

"Why Michael, you sound almost worried about me!" Her voice was still quiet, but Michel could just make out the grin in her voice as she positioned herself in the room.

"What took you so long?" he snapped back.

"It's a party at a VERY exclusive club, Michael. Am I not allowed to enjoy myself?" More movement as she finally placed the bug somewhere out of sight. "Besides, Rosen is chatty. I couldn't just barge into his office the moment I sat down next to him, now could I?"

"Just get out of there and get back, alright?"

"Oh no, Michael. When I say party, I mean I'm getting myself amazing free drinks for the rest of the night. Don't wait up boys!" Sam and Mike listened first to the sound of Fiona switching off her earpiece and then the click of her high heels fading into the buzz of club noise. Michael's posture relaxed noticeably as he slid back along the counter.

"See? What did I tell ya? Nothing to worry about," Sam said as he hoisted himself out of the armchair. Michael raised his hands in mock surrender.

"What can I say, Sam? You were right," he said, smiling and shaking his head. Sam took those few steps towards the counter and stopped in front of Michael. He locked eyes with him and grinned.

"Don't I know it, brother. And that is ALWAYS cause for celebration." Chuckling, smiling that damn charming Sam Axe smile, he reached past Michael to grab the beer he had pulled out for him. Their arms brushed just a bit, and though Michael turned his head to follow Sam's hand as it slid by him, his eyes never broke their gaze with Sam's.

Neither of them were quite sure who was the one who started it, or what exactly set it off. It could have been leftover adrenaline from the job gone wrong earlier that day. Perhaps for Sam, the overwhelming satisfaction of getting to hear Mike say he was right. For Michael, the lifted weight of knowing Fiona was safe and that work the next day was going to be much, much easier. Either way, one minute, Sam's simply reaching for his beer and the next, Michael has both hands fisted in Sam's thick hair as their teeth clacked together messily.

That first brief, awkward moment of spontaneity passed as the two of them readjusted and eased into a comfortable, if not needy rhythm. Michael kissed like he did everything else, with force and with exceptional attention to detail. Sam growled with approval and slid his hands down to grab Mike's ass, nudging his knee between the slender man's legs. Michael made his own low, quiet noise in the back of his throat as he began to rut his growing erection against that strategically placed knee.

Sam chuckled.

"What?" Michael breathed against Sam's stubble.

"Oh nothing," Sam murmured, smiling. "I just feel all warm and fuzzy whenever you get all feisty like this." Michael dragged his hands from Sam's hair and fisted them in the front of his shirt.

"Shut up, Sam," he hissed, and in one quick movement he shoved himself forward off the counter and forced Sam backwards towards the bed. The two of them were a tangle of fingers and buttons and zippers and groping as Sam worked Michael out of his shirt and Michael pawed messily at Sam's fly. Sam tumbled onto the mattress with little grace, but the shock or surprise of falling backwards was soon forgotten as Michael leapt on top of him, straddled his hips and stripped off his undershirt.

Michael draped himself over Sam's body, kicking off his remaining clothes and biting at Sam's jaw. Sam groaned and reached blindly for the bedside table, successfully retrieving the small bottle of lube. He handed it to Michael, still grinning, and proceeded to shuck off his own remaining clothes.

"Hand," Michael demanded through pants and bites. Sam didn't need to be told twice and presented it, leaving his one free hand to grip Michael's hip firmly. Mike squeezed a generous dollop of lube onto Sam's fingers and leaned forward again, resuming their chest-to-chest position and shuddering at the feel of his cock between his and Sam's bodies.

Sam's mouth found Michael's again and the two kissed hungrily as Sam's hand snaked it's way under Mike's leg. Michael shifted his hips up just enough to allow the other man easy access and he gasped when he finally felt the cold wetness of Sam's slicked fingers toying with his entrance.

"Go," Michael grunted into Sam's neck and Sam obliged, thrusting one, then two, then three fingers into the now squirming, gasping Michael. "Shit," he hissed with approval, back arching and hips now moving of their own accord as Sam stretched and twisted and finished up his prep work. He pulled his fingers out slowly, enjoying every tiny movement Michael tried to suppress and listening for every tiny sound he tried to muffle.

Michael panted and grinned and pushed himself back up into a straddling position as he fumbled around for the bottle of lube. Once he found it, he wasted no time in squeezing some more into his hand and reaching around behind him, smearing it liberally along the length of Sam's erection. The older man yelped.

"Jesus Mikey, give a guy a little warning, will ya?" Michael just shot Sam a smirk and raised his hips into place, bracing himself with his hands on Sam's chest. Sam slid both hands to Michael's hips, holding tightly, as Michael lowered himself slowly, torturously, onto Sam's cock. "Dammit Mike…"

Michael let his eyes drift shut as he took Sam all the way to his hilt, breath coming out in low, ragged gasps. He paused a moment to adjust, to breathe, to lock eyes with Sam before he began to move himself up and down, slowly at first, then with genuine enthusiasm.

Sam made no effort to stifle his grunts or moans as just the sight of Michael impaling himself over and over on his dick was enough to drive him nuts. He watched Michael carefully, eyes shut, head lilting forward, muscles tightening and flexing, leaking cock bouncing against his abdomen, lower lip worrying between his teeth as he bit back all but the tiniest gasps that threatened to leak out.

"Oh come on Mike," Sam huffed as he slid one hand to the inside of Michael's leg. "You could at least try and sound like you're having fun." Before Michael's mouth was anything more than open to respond, Sam reached up, expertly wrapped his hand around Michael's dick and pulled, all while thrusting his hips up to meet Mike's downward slam. It was too much all at once and in all the right places. Michael threw his head back and cried out.

"Ah, fuck Sam…" Michael whined, knotting his fists in whatever chest hair he could grab hold of. Sam chuckled.

"Now that's more like it," he grinned as he continued to lovingly stroke Michael's erection. Mike was now caught between slamming himself down onto Sam's dick and thrusting up desperately into his hand. Any words, any effort to contain himself was reduced to a string of undignified whimpers and a steady mantra of "fuck, fuck, fuck." They moved and panted and touched for what felt like forever and not long enough before Sam's strokes became less and less rhythmic and Michael's movement more and more erratic.

"Come on, Mikey," Sam growled, but it was low and warm and encouraging and loving. All rhythm and order was gone as Michael rode him with abandon, gasping and crying out and getting so close. The hand on Michael's erection continued to deftly stroke him, elicit a few last desperate noises before Sam spoke, asking in a low, breathy rasp, "Come for me."

And it was all he needed. Michael's whole body went rigid and he howled as he finally came, bucking and shuddering as he rode through his orgasm. Sam pumped him through the whole thing, drawing rope after rope of come that splashed on his belly and chest. He followed with a short shout soon after, filling Michael completely, letting his companion's tightening and spasming muscles finish him off. Michael finally stopped moving, breathing through the aftershocks, gasping for air and for his bearings before he pulled off of Sam and collapsed beside him.

The two laid there, panting, twitching, Michael leaking Sam and Sam covered with Michael, both enjoying the nearness of one another as the wash of calm slowly flowed over them. Michael sighed contently and cozied up next to Sam, tucking himself under his chin and planting one or two lazy kisses along his jaw. Sam smiled broadly and rolled over just enough to pull Michael into an intimate hug, prompting just a few more kisses here and there before Michael began groping around with his feet for his boxers.

"That," Sam said into the top of Michael's head, "is something we do NOT do often enough." Michael laughed through his nose as he slid off the bed and into his boxers.

"Well when you're right, Sam," he said, still smirking as he padded towards the kitchen area. He tossed Sam a clean rag before turning his attention to the fridge. "You want a fresh beer? This one's probably not that cold anymore." Sam looked over at him as though it was the most romantic thing he'd ever heard.

"… I knew I kept you around for a reason, Mikey," he sighed lovingly, exaggeratedly, as he began to wipe off his chest and stomach. Michael smiled, grabbing two cold beers out of the fridge and heading back over to the bed.

With no warning whatsoever, the door to the loft swung open with all the power that any one person could muster, colliding violently with the table behind it and sending everything on it careening to the floor. Michael and Sam both whipped their heads around to find themselves facing a very unhappy looking Fiona. Her heels clacked loudly as she tromped towards them.

"Fiona!" Michael yelped. Sam scrambled to hide his shame.

"Just because I said not to wait up does NOT mean I wanted to hear you two fucking wildly in my ear all night!" she spat as she crossed her arms.

"We- how did you-?"

"My earpiece!" She gestured broadly towards her ear. "I went to see if you'd heard anything good and all I could hear was YOU TWO AND YOUR EXTRACURRICULAR ACTIVITIES!" She turned quickly on her heel and stomped back towards the door.

"Wait, Fi!"

"We'll talk about this later, Michael!" She slammed the door shut behind her. Michael stood there blankly, beers in hand, staring absently at the door. Sam looked between Michael and the door for a moment before reaching up, grabbing a beer from his hand and twisting off the top.


"What? It's not like she's going to be any less mad at you if I have this beer, Mikey." He brought bottle to his lips and took a long, delicious swallow.