Work Text:
“Fuck you.”
“You fucking wish!”
Luke stared at Sam, never so close to seeing red as in that moment, with Sam gazing right back at him with that stupid fucking grin still plastered across his stupid fucking face.
Fuck.
Why was it always like this? How was it that after a decade of working with, playing with, creating with, spending as much free fucking time as he could possibly spare with the man, how was it that Sam still made him this fucking angry?
Post show they’d made their way back to Sam’s, some traditions etched in their bones like ancient rites. Settled into their usual spots, propped up at either end of the wrecked sofa in Sam’s living room, his stage for so much of lockdown, facing each other but only leaning forward to grab new beer cans. Empties scattered around the floor, toppled from the coffee table unnoticed.
That orbit never changed.
But Sam would not shut up. They had been arguing all fucking night, every fact Luke brought up Sam doubted, every story he interrupted, spewing witticisms and bullshit and refusing to listen to Luke over and over, even when Luke knew that he knew better. Sam grinning the whole time but Luke could feel it, white hot under his skin, behind his eyes, his jaw aching with how fucking angry Sam made him.
So he’d finally snapped. And Sam true to form had goaded.
Fuck him. Luke’d had enough.
He leant in, closed the space and pushed his whole self against Sam. With nothing but the urge to wipe that smile off his face, he bit into the other man’s lip as he ran his hands up into his hair, gripping tight before pulling Sam’s head back.
He hadn’t been betting on the moan it tore from Sam, his dark eyes all wild innocence and shock.
Shock and then silence.
Luke’s heart, already hammering from the stupid fucking argument, slammed against his rib cage as he pressed deeper, tongue pushing between those bite-swollen lips. He brought his thigh up, pressing into the space between Sam’s legs, a rushing roaring need to bury himself in the man, to hold him down and fucking claim the silence between his words.
He tightened his grip in Sam’s hair, pulling him hard as he moved back, drawing Sam to the edge of the sofa, biting Sam’s lips as he moved back. Luke let his teeth drag across Sam’s bottom lip as he stood, only releasing it when he felt the skin break, tasted blood. Sanding back, panting heavily, he looked down on Sam staring up at him, his hand still tight in his hair, holding him taught at the edge of the sofa.
He was still fucking smiling.
“What do you want Luke?” Sam goaded, voice tight and breathless, his tongue slipping out across the blood gathering at the swell of his lip. Luke eyes chased that sharp pink point, the bright smear of red. “You think shit like this proves you right?”
“I want you to shut the fuck up!” Luke growled out, the depth of it surprising him even more than Sam’s moan as it escaped his chest.
Tightening his hold, grabbing Sam’s shoulder with his free hand he yanked him roughly forward. He knew his fingers were going to leave bruises as he dug them in deep, pushing down hard until Sam slid from the sofa, his knees hit the floor.
“You think you’re so fucking cocksure!” Luke heard himself spitting out the words, voice vicious even behind the thrumming in his ears, as he fought with his belt buckle and fly buttons. Sam panted on the floor before him, eyes honed on Luke’s bulge, that fucking smile still lurking at the side of his mouth. “Open your fucking mouth and prove it.”
Luke had just about wrestled his cock out, still stiffening, but Sam was already there, mouth open, tongue flat and wide and wet, oh so fucking wet and soft against the underside of his cock. That tongue swirled up and round to trace the edge of his cock head, hands pulling at the rumpled trousers to free his hips, bringing those great big hands up to squeeze and pull him forward even as his own hands gripped the soft brown curls and push forward.
“Fucking deeper,” Luke choked out, “Can’t- ah can’t fucking stand to hear you anymore.”
Sam nodded.
He fucking nodded, Luke’s cock buried deep in his mouth, mouth bobbing as he agreed with Luke, and Luke couldn’t help the gut deep groan the sensation pulled from him, couldn’t handle the way Sam’s wide innocent eyes never left his face as he swallowed him down deeper.
Luke’s pace sped up, fucking between lips that drooled as his hips pistoned, fuelled with that burning anger he couldn’t put down. If he put it down maybe he’d run from this. Luke quashed the fleeting feeling down. Staring into those eyes, the white hot burn in him fed by the tears leaking from the corners.
God he needed more and god he wanted Sam to stop. Wanted him to push back and question this, but it was so fucking hot to see him pliant and on his knees and hear nothing from him but the whining around his cock and the sputtering gags and coughs with each thrust.
“Can’t fucking take it can you, gobby on fucking stage but can’t take my cock without fucking choking!” Luke pulled hard at Sam’s hair, pulling him off his cock with a wet pop that nearly had him finished there and then.
He glared down at Sam, wondering if he dared to go further.
And then Sam choked out something, raw and throaty.
“If you could keep a rhythm maybe I wouldn’t choke so hard.”
That shit eating grin was back.
Luke grabbed Sam, fury and desire licking along his limbs as he turned him, pushing against his shoulders until he was bent over across the sofa, arse in the air, face pushed into the frayed shitty cushions. Luke pulled roughly at Sam’s trousers and underwear, leaning down to bite one of his broad shoulders through the flannel as he got the waistband pulled down to Sam’s thighs.
“Rhythm? You want fucking rhythm.” He spread Sam’s cheeks, felt dizzy at the sight of the tight pink ring, dizzier with what he intended to do.
Muffled from the sofa cushions he could just about hear. “There’s lube in the bedroom.”
Somewhere in the back of his thundering mind he knew it shouldn’t be like this, was thankful that somewhere deep down Sam must want this too, but all that did was make him angrier. Why was it never fucking easy with Sam? Why couldn’t they just-
“No” Luke snapped out, lining himself up with Sam’s hole, spitting on his hand to add to the pre-cum dripping down his own length, and then directly onto Sam’s asshole, watching as it clenched at the sudden sensation. “You don’t fucking deserve for this to be easy.”
He grabbed Sam’s hips and pulled him toward him with one hand, pushed with his cock. The tightness and stretch was incredible. Any other time he would have wanted to go slow, enjoy every second of the deep, keening cry, that rumbled out from Sam into the cushions his face was buried in.
But now, there could be no waiting, he pushed forward hard, slipping between Sam’s cheeks. The rage still thundered. How could this feel so fucking right? He shifted a hand onto Sam’s shoulder, squeezing and pulling back on it as he thrust forward. Curling over as his hips finally settled flush against Sam’s arse Luke bit down hard against flushed red neck before him.
Sam cried out and Luke released his teeth, loving the teeth marks he left behind, straightening up to look down at the place were he disappeared into Sam, spitting once more, fascinated as the muscle clench around his cock. Finally, he began to roll his hips, hard, letting all the anger and need take over.
The pace was brutal.
Just the sound of skin, slapping into skin, the weight of his balls smacking against Sam’s arse as his pace quickened.
All Luke could make out from Sam was the “ah, ah, ah” of breath being forced from his lungs, of the desperate scrabbling for purchase and the way Sam bounced off his cock, despite the lack of lube and the brutal pace.
The tight searing feel of Sam’s asshole was incredible, clenching around Luke’s cock, it made him feel almost dizzy. He wanted more desperately, wanted to be able to fuck into Sam forever. God it was fucking perfect but Luke could not escape the tensing of everything, hips bucking wildly into Sam, his cum slipping from between Sam’s cheeks and down onto the floor.
And then he was still, and Sam was so quite, his rough forced out cries ending abruptly, his whole body shaking in an open mouthed silent howl into the cushions as he too came.
Luke pulled out, let his hands rest with shaking fingers on Sam’s back.
“Sam?” Luke managed to pant out, cringing at the quiver in his own fucked out voice.
Why was it never simple with Sam? Why was it always like this?
Sam reached back to tap at Luke’s thigh, those big soft hands trembling just as much as his own. Whatever else Sam might be right now it seemed he wasn’t able to speak.
God Sam was so fucking beautiful when he shut the fuck up.