[fic post] Counter Space
Title: Counter Space
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Humor/PWP
Pairings or Characters: Sam/Ed Jr.
Warnings: lol hatesex
Word Count: 431
Summary: "Stop running that mouth of yours and fuck me already."
Author Notes: So these two have taken over my brain. Mostly with thoughts of them having sex roughly all over things. I have no complaints, though.
Counter Space
Whatever's been sitting on the kitchen counter hits the floor, loud and messy, as Sam shoves Dillinger onto it, pants barely tugged down enough for Sam to press his cock into him. Dillinger moans and wiggles his ass desperately against Sam's hips, urging him to move, and Sam complies with a laugh.
"Hell, Eddie, if you're as eager about the company as you are about this, maybe I should just give you my shares and let you run it," Sam smirks against his ear, thrusting into him hard enough to rattle the cabinet doors above and below them. Dillinger's hands scramble to find purchase on Sam's bare back, dragging nails along the skin hard enough to leave it red and broken.
"If you could run the company as well as you run your mouth, maybe Mackey would let you," Dillinger pants as Sam pushes into him hard enough to make him hiss and knock the glasses off his face. "And don't call me Eddie."
Sam rolls his hips forward hard, dragging a harsh gasp out of Dillinger before his face settles into a grimace. He trails his fingers along Sam's back, being sure to press his nails down hard. Sam grunts in pain and slows down, looking down at Dillinger's stubborn expression.
"Cool it with the nails, Eddie."
"Call me that again, and I'll--"
"You'll what?" Sam goads, thrusting into Dillinger sudden and forceful, making his hand slip and scramble on the counter while the other digs into Sam's arm, desperate to get a hold on something and steady himself. Sam holds himself still, finally giving Dillinger a break, smirking down at him while he catches his breath.
"Maybe I'll start by murdering that stupid dog of yours."
"Hey, now, don't go all wicked witch on me already. Marv didn't do anything to you."
"He pissed in my shoes last time I was at your pathetic excuse for an apartment."
Sam laughs and starts moving his hips again slow, watching Dillinger's eyes close and hands reach up to hold onto his shoulders.
"I can't help it if he's jealous of you," Sam smiles, kissing at his neck, "I've started giving you all of my attention. He's not used to sharing." Sam feels Dillinger freeze for a second before he starts to wiggle impatiently.
"Stop running that mouth of yours and fuck me already."
"Whatever you say," Sam whispers into his skin, resisting the temptation to call him Eddie again, and speeds up his pace until the cabinet doors are shaking and he can hear Dillinger's silverware rattling in the drawers.
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Humor/PWP
Pairings or Characters: Sam/Ed Jr.
Warnings: lol hatesex
Word Count: 431
Summary: "Stop running that mouth of yours and fuck me already."
Author Notes: So these two have taken over my brain. Mostly with thoughts of them having sex roughly all over things. I have no complaints, though.
Counter Space
Whatever's been sitting on the kitchen counter hits the floor, loud and messy, as Sam shoves Dillinger onto it, pants barely tugged down enough for Sam to press his cock into him. Dillinger moans and wiggles his ass desperately against Sam's hips, urging him to move, and Sam complies with a laugh.
"Hell, Eddie, if you're as eager about the company as you are about this, maybe I should just give you my shares and let you run it," Sam smirks against his ear, thrusting into him hard enough to rattle the cabinet doors above and below them. Dillinger's hands scramble to find purchase on Sam's bare back, dragging nails along the skin hard enough to leave it red and broken.
"If you could run the company as well as you run your mouth, maybe Mackey would let you," Dillinger pants as Sam pushes into him hard enough to make him hiss and knock the glasses off his face. "And don't call me Eddie."
Sam rolls his hips forward hard, dragging a harsh gasp out of Dillinger before his face settles into a grimace. He trails his fingers along Sam's back, being sure to press his nails down hard. Sam grunts in pain and slows down, looking down at Dillinger's stubborn expression.
"Cool it with the nails, Eddie."
"Call me that again, and I'll--"
"You'll what?" Sam goads, thrusting into Dillinger sudden and forceful, making his hand slip and scramble on the counter while the other digs into Sam's arm, desperate to get a hold on something and steady himself. Sam holds himself still, finally giving Dillinger a break, smirking down at him while he catches his breath.
"Maybe I'll start by murdering that stupid dog of yours."
"Hey, now, don't go all wicked witch on me already. Marv didn't do anything to you."
"He pissed in my shoes last time I was at your pathetic excuse for an apartment."
Sam laughs and starts moving his hips again slow, watching Dillinger's eyes close and hands reach up to hold onto his shoulders.
"I can't help it if he's jealous of you," Sam smiles, kissing at his neck, "I've started giving you all of my attention. He's not used to sharing." Sam feels Dillinger freeze for a second before he starts to wiggle impatiently.
"Stop running that mouth of yours and fuck me already."
"Whatever you say," Sam whispers into his skin, resisting the temptation to call him Eddie again, and speeds up his pace until the cabinet doors are shaking and he can hear Dillinger's silverware rattling in the drawers.