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perpetual_motionTitle: 4 Places Jack and Mike Had Sex (Kininess Varies)
Author: Perpetual Motion
Fandom: Law & Order
Pairing: Jack McCoy/Mike Cutter
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Exactly what it says on the tin.
Dis: Lies and bullshit.
Author's Notes: Foramazonqueenkate, who requested it. I tried to make it as smutty as possible. Enjoy! Also, it's self-betaed, so you may find typos. Enjoy!
4 Places Jack and Mike Had Sex (Kinkiness Varies)
By Perpetual Motion
1. Here Comes the Best Man
“Shhh,” Jack hisses as he presses his hand over Mike’s mouth. “Don’t think the groom will be too happy if anyone hears you moaning.”
“Yeah,” Mike gasps out, gripping Jack’s shirt at the back, where the wrinkles won’t show because of Jack’s suit coat. “Because the bride will let you live if she catches you.”
“You think Connie doesn’t know we’re back here?” Jack presses full-frontal against Mike, jacking him a little faster, breathing against his ear. “You think she’s not covering for us right now?”
Mike can’t form a reply to that. The image of Connie in the reception hall, the train of her dress trailing behind her as she looks innocent to anyone asking where Mike and Jack have gotten to, it shorts out his higher functions and all he can do is grunt as Jack pumps him, as Jack kisses him, as Jack presses him harder against the shelf piled high with linens and squeezes just so until Mike bites Jack’s bottom lip and comes into Jack’s hand.
“Does she—” Mike starts to ask as he drops to his knees, and Jack wipes his hand on a towel.
“I didn’t tell her in so many words, but I know she spotted me pulling you away.”
“You are a filthy man, McCoy,” Mike says as he undoes Jack’s pants and maneuvers Jack’s dick through his boxers.
“ Says the man on his knees.”
Mike doesn’t respond. He wraps his lips around the head of Jack’s cock and sucks hard, lifting his chin so he can see the way Jack’s eyes flutter. He slides his mouth down Jack’s shaft and sucks harder, grinning when Jack curls a hand around his head.
“Little more,” Jack whispers, and Mike obliges, upping the suction and bobbing his head up and down as he curls his fingers into Jack’s pant leg.
“…for the toasts,” someone says as two sets of feet sound outside the linen closet. “Connie’s gonna kill him.”
“He’s probably practicing on the deck,” says a second voice. Green. They’d shown up together for the ceremony, and Jack and Mike had exchanged a knowing look.
“He’s probably getting laid,” Lupo said as their voices faded.
Jack snorts a laugh, and Mike sucks a little harder to make him hiccup in surprise. “Easy,” Jack mutters, petting Mike’s hair.
Mike cups Jack’s balls, rolls them carefully in his hand, rubs the head of Jack’s dick against his soft palate, and hums in triumph when Jack bucks his hips and swears under his breath. Gets him every time.
“Jesus,” Jack whispers, and he starts thrusting into Mike’s mouth with an off-tempo rhythm that makes Mike groan and shift as heat roils through him. Jack comes with a grunt, pulling most of the way out of Mike’s mouth as he does.
Mike swallows and grins when Jack hands him a clean towel. “I’m starting to think you picked this closet for its convenience rather than its cliché.”
“It was the first door that opened,” Jack said as he helped Mike from his knees. He pulled him close, kissing him slow and warm before stepping away and walking towards the door, pressing his ear to it.
“How often do you do this?” Mike asks as he dusts floor grit from the knees of his pants.
“Every wedding I can get away with it,” Jack admits and grins. He cracks the door and glances out. “Clear hallway,” he announces and walks out.
Mike’s right behind him, closing the door as quietly as possible. He hears footsteps down the hall and gives himself a perfunctory glance. His tie is slightly askew, and he can only imagine what his hair looks like now that Jack’s had his hands in it. He’s combing his fingers through it as Lupo and Green come around the corner.
“There you are!” Lupo says, throwing up his hands. “Connie’s been looking for you for the last ten minutes. What kind of a maid of honor wanders off before the toasts?”
“Best man,” Jack corrects, falling into step beside Lupo. “I am the bride’s best man, and I was practicing.”
“Practicing,” Green scoffs under his breath, throwing a glance at Mike. “And you?”
“I was helping,” Mike replies.
“Helping,” Ed snorts. “All right.”
“Good to see you, Green,” Mike says. “I always figured you and Lupo would…stay friends.”
Ed raises his eyebrows. Mike raises his in return. Ed grins and holds out his fist. “Nice job,” he says. “Might pull Lupo away a little later.”
“Door locks from the inside,” Mike replies, and bumps his fist.
2. Holding up the Walls of a Cheap Motel
“Well,” Jack says, looking at the queen beds with matching avacado green spreads, the dark brown shag carpet, and the beige lamp between the beds, “never let it be said we don’t sleep in style.”
“1970s style, but style,” Mike agrees, tossing his duffel on the bed farther from the door. He flops back on the bed and grimaces when the springs squeal in protest. “And never let it be said you don’t watch the office budget. Comfort to your subordinates be damned.”
Jack presses a hand against his own bed and pulls a face. “We may be sleeping separately.”
Mike lifts his head from the mattress, puzzlement on his face. “Why wouldn’t we?”
“Hmm?” Jack hums as he starts digging into his duffel.
“I was always planning to sleep on my own,” Mike says slowly. He nearly pulls back when Jack’s head snaps up in surprise. “We’re here on business,” Mike continues, trying to keep his tone reasonable.
“When we agreed to no sex on the clock I didn’t think you meant when we were two hundred miles away in a cheap hotel built—if the drapes are any indication—for exactly the type of illicit sex we could be having.”
Mike glances at the drapes. They were heavy and black. If they pull them closed, there is no way anyone could see in. “You ask me, this looks like the kind of cheap, thin-walled motel where people get busted during their illicit activities.”
Jack reaches into his duffel and pulls out a spare tie. “Guess you’ll need this, then. Unless you want to jam one of their pillows in your mouth.”
“I can’t imagine the dose of antibiotics I’d need afterward,” Mike replies. He looks Jack over. He’d changed into jeans before they’d gotten into the car for the drive. His button down—a shade of blue Mike has secretly started thinking of as “Jack-blue”—is still tucked in, his belt cinched at his waist. He’d promised himself, when they’d started seeing each other, not to have sex on work time. They have jobs to do, jobs they love, and it doesn’t anyone any good if they weren’t paying attention to that.
“Two hundred miles away,” Jack says. There is no cajoling in his tone, just flat fact. It makes heat run up Mike’s spine. “And only tonight,” Jack adds.
Mike raised his eyebrows, pushing himself fully upright on the bed. “Are you compromising?”
“Negotiating,” Jack replies. “I’m open to a counter-offer.”
“Tonight,” Mike agrees, because Jack trying to find middle ground is making weird things happen to his insides. “And the night before we leave.”
“Deal.” Jack holds out his hand and pulls Mike to his feet when Mike reaches out to shake. He glances towards the window—the drapes are still open—and kisses Mike full on the mouth for a handful of seconds.
3. Everyone’s Doing it There
Mike wakes up slowly. It’s Sunday, sunny, and Jack is biting carefully at his shoulder, enough pressure to wake him, but not enough to hurt him. “Morning,” Mike says and clears his throat.
“Morning,” Jack replies, and his hand slides down Mike’s front, wraps around his morning erection. “If you’ve not objections.”
Mike pushes against Jack’s hand in a lazy thrust, hums in approval when Jack spoons him fully and slides an arm under his head. “None at all.”
“Hmm,” Jack says, the smile clear in his tone. He grips Mike at the base of his cock and strokes up in a slow, measured tug. Mike tries to rock into it, but Jack nips at his ear. “Hold still,” he says.
“No,” Mike grunts and rocks again.
Jack moves the arm he’d placed underneath Mike’s head and slides it around the side of Mike’s neck until his forearm is resting against Mike’s collarbone. “Hold still,” he says again, gripping Mike’s bicep with his hand and pressing his forearm against Mike’s chest.
“You gonna hold me down to make me?”
“No,” Jack admits, squeezing Mike’s bicep again. “Like I could. You’re just going to do as you’re told.”
“And if I don’t,” but Mike’s hips don’t rock up when Jack strokes him again. He presses back hard against Jack instead, one hand gripping at Jack’s thigh as Jack strokes again.
“That’s nice,” Jack says into Mike’s ear, and Mike’s grip tightens as Jack adjusts his stroke. “You’re warm.”
“Can’t imagine why,” Mike says, then groans hard when Jack sucks at his neck. “Careful,” he hisses, and Jack sucks harder. “Bastard.”
“Yeah,” Jack agrees, and his strokes speed up, causing Mike to hiccup a breath and dig into Jack’s thigh hard enough to leave bruises. “Come on,” Jack breathes into Mike’s ear. “Come on.”
Mike presses hard against Jack and bites his lip as he whines a long, high note before coming over Jack’s hand and sagging against Jack’s body.
“Hmm,” Jack murmurs and wipes his hand on the sheet.
Mike gives an inarticulate moan and turns to sling an arm around Jack. “You need—”
“Go back to sleep,” Jack says, a smile in his voice. “You can pay me back later.”
Mike huffs a laugh and slides his hand down until he feels Jack’s dick. It’s soft and sticky in Mike’s palm. “Did you—”
“Stop laughing,” Jack orders, digging his fingers against Mike’s hips when Mike laughs harder.
“How did I—” Mike reaches back and touches his back, grimacing when he comes in contact with a stickiness he swears hadn’t been there a second ago. “How—”
“You’re welcome,” Jack says, smug like he’s won something.
“You are not as good as you think you are,” Mike says, but Jack’s laughter drowns him out.
4. They Laugh, They Make Money
Jack sits on one end of his office couch, scotch in his left hand, his right stretched across the back, resting a few inches from Mike’s lolling head. “You’re drunk,” Jack says quietly. It’s very late, and Jack knows everyone else has gone home. He slides over a few inches until he can wrap the fingers of his right hand around Mike’s hair.
“Lost,” Mike mutters. His eyes are glassy but intense. He’s drunk, but he’s still aware. “I could see it, Jack. Timmermon got up and started his closing arguments, and I saw the jury decide everything I’d put in front of them was wrong.”
“I know.”
“I watched it,” Mike says, and he rolls his head the other way. Jack massages his scalp with his fingers. “If I’d lost on evidence—”
“I know,” Jack repeats.
“Fucking charisma,” Mike mutters, and he looks at Jack again. His eyes aren’t glassy anymore. They’re sharp and dangerous.
“No,” Jack says and shifts away, but Mike follows his movement and crowds him against the far corner of the couch. “You’re drunk,” Jack tells him.
“Yeah,” Mike agrees, and the kiss lands off-center on Jack’s mouth. “So?” He palms Jack through his slacks. “No one here.”
“It’s still—” Jack grits his teeth and grasps Mike’s wrist, meaning to pull him off, but he presses down and holds Mike still as he bucks up into the pressure.
“There you go,” Mike says against his cheek, and he uses his other hand to undo Jack’s belt.
“Just want—wanted to fuck me on the couch,” Jack accuses as he leans back and rests his head on one of the armrests.
“Hell, yes.”
Jack laughs, and it’s lost when Mike kisses him, tongue hot in his mouth. Mike gets his hand around Jack’s cock and strokes up. Jack yanks on the front of Mike’s shirt and pulls it out of his slacks, running his hands up Mike’s back.
“The first time…” Mike pants as Jack gets to work on his buttons. “The first time I came in here knowing I could fuck you, knowing we’d end up having sex that night, all I could think about was this fucking couch.”
“My bed would like a word with you,” Jack manages to get out right before Mike slides down, shirt fluttering as he settles between Jack’s thighs.
“So much better here,” Mike mutters and sucks the head of Jack’s cock into his mouth.
Jack closes his eyes and groans, dropping into the unthinking haze that comes with impromptu sex. “Jesus,” he hisses, and he pulls at Mike’s hair when Mike pulls off his cock.
“The next time you sit here, the next time you have a meeting here—”
“I’ve figured that out,” Jack says and pushes on Mike’s head. “Believe me, you don’t have to tell me what I’m going to remember.”
Mike grins and takes Jack’s cock back into his mouth, humming quietly as Jack moans and presses his shoulders up. He wonders, as he sucks harder and Jack swears under his breath, how he’s ever going to sit here again without getting an erection, he doesn’t know.
Jack comes, whispering obscenities as Mike swallows and pulls away. “Come here,” he says and tugs at Mike, who slides up his body in stages before dropping heavily onto Jack’s shoulder. “You—”
“I need new pants,” Mike mumbles, just loud enough for Jack to hear and suppress a laugh. “And shut up,” he adds when a little of the laugh gets away from him.
“It’s disappointing I can’t tell anyone about this,” Jack tells him and winces when Mike punches him in the ribs.
“I will leave you,” Mike threatens, but it carries no heat. He presses his face against Jack’s shoulder until Jack pokes him in the ribs.
“Stained pants or not, you’re not sleeping here.”
“Why not?”
“You can explain the upcoming hangover, but not even you can argue your way out of semen-stained pants in a DAs office.”
Mike yawns and pulls away, grinning sleepily when Jack presses a hand to his chest. “Be fun to try,” he says.
“That should be your motto,” Jack replies, and Mike laughs softly as he untangles himself and searches for his jacket.
Author: Perpetual Motion
Fandom: Law & Order
Pairing: Jack McCoy/Mike Cutter
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Exactly what it says on the tin.
Dis: Lies and bullshit.
Author's Notes: For
amazonqueenkate, who requested it. I tried to make it as smutty as possible. Enjoy! Also, it's self-betaed, so you may find typos. Enjoy!4 Places Jack and Mike Had Sex (Kinkiness Varies)
By Perpetual Motion
1. Here Comes the Best Man
“Shhh,” Jack hisses as he presses his hand over Mike’s mouth. “Don’t think the groom will be too happy if anyone hears you moaning.”
“Yeah,” Mike gasps out, gripping Jack’s shirt at the back, where the wrinkles won’t show because of Jack’s suit coat. “Because the bride will let you live if she catches you.”
“You think Connie doesn’t know we’re back here?” Jack presses full-frontal against Mike, jacking him a little faster, breathing against his ear. “You think she’s not covering for us right now?”
Mike can’t form a reply to that. The image of Connie in the reception hall, the train of her dress trailing behind her as she looks innocent to anyone asking where Mike and Jack have gotten to, it shorts out his higher functions and all he can do is grunt as Jack pumps him, as Jack kisses him, as Jack presses him harder against the shelf piled high with linens and squeezes just so until Mike bites Jack’s bottom lip and comes into Jack’s hand.
“Does she—” Mike starts to ask as he drops to his knees, and Jack wipes his hand on a towel.
“I didn’t tell her in so many words, but I know she spotted me pulling you away.”
“You are a filthy man, McCoy,” Mike says as he undoes Jack’s pants and maneuvers Jack’s dick through his boxers.
“ Says the man on his knees.”
Mike doesn’t respond. He wraps his lips around the head of Jack’s cock and sucks hard, lifting his chin so he can see the way Jack’s eyes flutter. He slides his mouth down Jack’s shaft and sucks harder, grinning when Jack curls a hand around his head.
“Little more,” Jack whispers, and Mike obliges, upping the suction and bobbing his head up and down as he curls his fingers into Jack’s pant leg.
“…for the toasts,” someone says as two sets of feet sound outside the linen closet. “Connie’s gonna kill him.”
“He’s probably practicing on the deck,” says a second voice. Green. They’d shown up together for the ceremony, and Jack and Mike had exchanged a knowing look.
“He’s probably getting laid,” Lupo said as their voices faded.
Jack snorts a laugh, and Mike sucks a little harder to make him hiccup in surprise. “Easy,” Jack mutters, petting Mike’s hair.
Mike cups Jack’s balls, rolls them carefully in his hand, rubs the head of Jack’s dick against his soft palate, and hums in triumph when Jack bucks his hips and swears under his breath. Gets him every time.
“Jesus,” Jack whispers, and he starts thrusting into Mike’s mouth with an off-tempo rhythm that makes Mike groan and shift as heat roils through him. Jack comes with a grunt, pulling most of the way out of Mike’s mouth as he does.
Mike swallows and grins when Jack hands him a clean towel. “I’m starting to think you picked this closet for its convenience rather than its cliché.”
“It was the first door that opened,” Jack said as he helped Mike from his knees. He pulled him close, kissing him slow and warm before stepping away and walking towards the door, pressing his ear to it.
“How often do you do this?” Mike asks as he dusts floor grit from the knees of his pants.
“Every wedding I can get away with it,” Jack admits and grins. He cracks the door and glances out. “Clear hallway,” he announces and walks out.
Mike’s right behind him, closing the door as quietly as possible. He hears footsteps down the hall and gives himself a perfunctory glance. His tie is slightly askew, and he can only imagine what his hair looks like now that Jack’s had his hands in it. He’s combing his fingers through it as Lupo and Green come around the corner.
“There you are!” Lupo says, throwing up his hands. “Connie’s been looking for you for the last ten minutes. What kind of a maid of honor wanders off before the toasts?”
“Best man,” Jack corrects, falling into step beside Lupo. “I am the bride’s best man, and I was practicing.”
“Practicing,” Green scoffs under his breath, throwing a glance at Mike. “And you?”
“I was helping,” Mike replies.
“Helping,” Ed snorts. “All right.”
“Good to see you, Green,” Mike says. “I always figured you and Lupo would…stay friends.”
Ed raises his eyebrows. Mike raises his in return. Ed grins and holds out his fist. “Nice job,” he says. “Might pull Lupo away a little later.”
“Door locks from the inside,” Mike replies, and bumps his fist.
2. Holding up the Walls of a Cheap Motel
“Well,” Jack says, looking at the queen beds with matching avacado green spreads, the dark brown shag carpet, and the beige lamp between the beds, “never let it be said we don’t sleep in style.”
“1970s style, but style,” Mike agrees, tossing his duffel on the bed farther from the door. He flops back on the bed and grimaces when the springs squeal in protest. “And never let it be said you don’t watch the office budget. Comfort to your subordinates be damned.”
Jack presses a hand against his own bed and pulls a face. “We may be sleeping separately.”
Mike lifts his head from the mattress, puzzlement on his face. “Why wouldn’t we?”
“Hmm?” Jack hums as he starts digging into his duffel.
“I was always planning to sleep on my own,” Mike says slowly. He nearly pulls back when Jack’s head snaps up in surprise. “We’re here on business,” Mike continues, trying to keep his tone reasonable.
“When we agreed to no sex on the clock I didn’t think you meant when we were two hundred miles away in a cheap hotel built—if the drapes are any indication—for exactly the type of illicit sex we could be having.”
Mike glances at the drapes. They were heavy and black. If they pull them closed, there is no way anyone could see in. “You ask me, this looks like the kind of cheap, thin-walled motel where people get busted during their illicit activities.”
Jack reaches into his duffel and pulls out a spare tie. “Guess you’ll need this, then. Unless you want to jam one of their pillows in your mouth.”
“I can’t imagine the dose of antibiotics I’d need afterward,” Mike replies. He looks Jack over. He’d changed into jeans before they’d gotten into the car for the drive. His button down—a shade of blue Mike has secretly started thinking of as “Jack-blue”—is still tucked in, his belt cinched at his waist. He’d promised himself, when they’d started seeing each other, not to have sex on work time. They have jobs to do, jobs they love, and it doesn’t anyone any good if they weren’t paying attention to that.
“Two hundred miles away,” Jack says. There is no cajoling in his tone, just flat fact. It makes heat run up Mike’s spine. “And only tonight,” Jack adds.
Mike raised his eyebrows, pushing himself fully upright on the bed. “Are you compromising?”
“Negotiating,” Jack replies. “I’m open to a counter-offer.”
“Tonight,” Mike agrees, because Jack trying to find middle ground is making weird things happen to his insides. “And the night before we leave.”
“Deal.” Jack holds out his hand and pulls Mike to his feet when Mike reaches out to shake. He glances towards the window—the drapes are still open—and kisses Mike full on the mouth for a handful of seconds.
3. Everyone’s Doing it There
Mike wakes up slowly. It’s Sunday, sunny, and Jack is biting carefully at his shoulder, enough pressure to wake him, but not enough to hurt him. “Morning,” Mike says and clears his throat.
“Morning,” Jack replies, and his hand slides down Mike’s front, wraps around his morning erection. “If you’ve not objections.”
Mike pushes against Jack’s hand in a lazy thrust, hums in approval when Jack spoons him fully and slides an arm under his head. “None at all.”
“Hmm,” Jack says, the smile clear in his tone. He grips Mike at the base of his cock and strokes up in a slow, measured tug. Mike tries to rock into it, but Jack nips at his ear. “Hold still,” he says.
“No,” Mike grunts and rocks again.
Jack moves the arm he’d placed underneath Mike’s head and slides it around the side of Mike’s neck until his forearm is resting against Mike’s collarbone. “Hold still,” he says again, gripping Mike’s bicep with his hand and pressing his forearm against Mike’s chest.
“You gonna hold me down to make me?”
“No,” Jack admits, squeezing Mike’s bicep again. “Like I could. You’re just going to do as you’re told.”
“And if I don’t,” but Mike’s hips don’t rock up when Jack strokes him again. He presses back hard against Jack instead, one hand gripping at Jack’s thigh as Jack strokes again.
“That’s nice,” Jack says into Mike’s ear, and Mike’s grip tightens as Jack adjusts his stroke. “You’re warm.”
“Can’t imagine why,” Mike says, then groans hard when Jack sucks at his neck. “Careful,” he hisses, and Jack sucks harder. “Bastard.”
“Yeah,” Jack agrees, and his strokes speed up, causing Mike to hiccup a breath and dig into Jack’s thigh hard enough to leave bruises. “Come on,” Jack breathes into Mike’s ear. “Come on.”
Mike presses hard against Jack and bites his lip as he whines a long, high note before coming over Jack’s hand and sagging against Jack’s body.
“Hmm,” Jack murmurs and wipes his hand on the sheet.
Mike gives an inarticulate moan and turns to sling an arm around Jack. “You need—”
“Go back to sleep,” Jack says, a smile in his voice. “You can pay me back later.”
Mike huffs a laugh and slides his hand down until he feels Jack’s dick. It’s soft and sticky in Mike’s palm. “Did you—”
“Stop laughing,” Jack orders, digging his fingers against Mike’s hips when Mike laughs harder.
“How did I—” Mike reaches back and touches his back, grimacing when he comes in contact with a stickiness he swears hadn’t been there a second ago. “How—”
“You’re welcome,” Jack says, smug like he’s won something.
“You are not as good as you think you are,” Mike says, but Jack’s laughter drowns him out.
4. They Laugh, They Make Money
Jack sits on one end of his office couch, scotch in his left hand, his right stretched across the back, resting a few inches from Mike’s lolling head. “You’re drunk,” Jack says quietly. It’s very late, and Jack knows everyone else has gone home. He slides over a few inches until he can wrap the fingers of his right hand around Mike’s hair.
“Lost,” Mike mutters. His eyes are glassy but intense. He’s drunk, but he’s still aware. “I could see it, Jack. Timmermon got up and started his closing arguments, and I saw the jury decide everything I’d put in front of them was wrong.”
“I know.”
“I watched it,” Mike says, and he rolls his head the other way. Jack massages his scalp with his fingers. “If I’d lost on evidence—”
“I know,” Jack repeats.
“Fucking charisma,” Mike mutters, and he looks at Jack again. His eyes aren’t glassy anymore. They’re sharp and dangerous.
“No,” Jack says and shifts away, but Mike follows his movement and crowds him against the far corner of the couch. “You’re drunk,” Jack tells him.
“Yeah,” Mike agrees, and the kiss lands off-center on Jack’s mouth. “So?” He palms Jack through his slacks. “No one here.”
“It’s still—” Jack grits his teeth and grasps Mike’s wrist, meaning to pull him off, but he presses down and holds Mike still as he bucks up into the pressure.
“There you go,” Mike says against his cheek, and he uses his other hand to undo Jack’s belt.
“Just want—wanted to fuck me on the couch,” Jack accuses as he leans back and rests his head on one of the armrests.
“Hell, yes.”
Jack laughs, and it’s lost when Mike kisses him, tongue hot in his mouth. Mike gets his hand around Jack’s cock and strokes up. Jack yanks on the front of Mike’s shirt and pulls it out of his slacks, running his hands up Mike’s back.
“The first time…” Mike pants as Jack gets to work on his buttons. “The first time I came in here knowing I could fuck you, knowing we’d end up having sex that night, all I could think about was this fucking couch.”
“My bed would like a word with you,” Jack manages to get out right before Mike slides down, shirt fluttering as he settles between Jack’s thighs.
“So much better here,” Mike mutters and sucks the head of Jack’s cock into his mouth.
Jack closes his eyes and groans, dropping into the unthinking haze that comes with impromptu sex. “Jesus,” he hisses, and he pulls at Mike’s hair when Mike pulls off his cock.
“The next time you sit here, the next time you have a meeting here—”
“I’ve figured that out,” Jack says and pushes on Mike’s head. “Believe me, you don’t have to tell me what I’m going to remember.”
Mike grins and takes Jack’s cock back into his mouth, humming quietly as Jack moans and presses his shoulders up. He wonders, as he sucks harder and Jack swears under his breath, how he’s ever going to sit here again without getting an erection, he doesn’t know.
Jack comes, whispering obscenities as Mike swallows and pulls away. “Come here,” he says and tugs at Mike, who slides up his body in stages before dropping heavily onto Jack’s shoulder. “You—”
“I need new pants,” Mike mumbles, just loud enough for Jack to hear and suppress a laugh. “And shut up,” he adds when a little of the laugh gets away from him.
“It’s disappointing I can’t tell anyone about this,” Jack tells him and winces when Mike punches him in the ribs.
“I will leave you,” Mike threatens, but it carries no heat. He presses his face against Jack’s shoulder until Jack pokes him in the ribs.
“Stained pants or not, you’re not sleeping here.”
“Why not?”
“You can explain the upcoming hangover, but not even you can argue your way out of semen-stained pants in a DAs office.”
Mike yawns and pulls away, grinning sleepily when Jack presses a hand to his chest. “Be fun to try,” he says.
“That should be your motto,” Jack replies, and Mike laughs softly as he untangles himself and searches for his jacket.
