Fic: "Every Game You Play", Lost, Miles/Sawyer, NC17
Title: Every Game You Play
Fandom/Pairing: Lost, Miles/Sawyer
Rating: ~ 4 500 words, NC17
Warnings: *SPOILERS* for Lost 6-08: Recon; slight D/s dynamic
Notes: Y'all knew I'd go there. Don't act surprised ;) Many thank yous to zelda_zee who went above and beyond in her beta. This fic is way better because of it.
Summary: Miles glares. A lot.
I'll warn again, just to be sure: this fic has *SPOILERS* for Lost 6-08: Recon
Every Game You Play
The problem with an undercover operation that didn't work as planned is that it generates as much paperwork as if they'd caught the big fish, and not just his cheating wife for illegal possession of a firearm. In fact, it might even be more trouble, as Jim has to write his report in circles to explain where it went wrong and how unfortunate it is that all of those tax dollars were spent for nothing. Jim's pretty frustrated. Miles is throwing him dark looks from the desk across from his while filling out his own million and one forms too.
The glares, by the way, are just not fair: Jim's good under cover, but he can't have a perfect batting average.
Slowly, the office empties, and only the guys and gals from the night shift remain. Oh, and Miles, who should be done by now but no, he's still glaring. Jim can't help but imagine a couple of dirty ways he'd mellow Miles out, but those are his fantasies running wild again. He really should stop having inappropriate thoughts about his best friend.
"Gimme a break, Sunshine," Jim mutters. "I couldn't know she'd catch on."
"Yeah, yeah, make me cry," Miles says, and he's pushing so hard on his pencil that the tip snaps. He throws it toward the other end of the office with a frustrated growl.
"What the fuck is your problem?" Jim says, scowling at him.
"You're not careful enough, that's my problem," Miles says, finally meeting Jim's eyes. "You were this close," he says, pinching his thumb and index finger together.
Oh, so that's what crawled up Miles' ass and died. He got scared at the close call and now he takes it out the only way he knows how. Jim relaxes a bit and tries to sound casual.
"We know the risks in signing up for this job, partner. Besides, I knew you guys would save my ass. You always do."
"Until we don't," Miles says with a big sigh. He then seems to remember he's mad and frowns again. "I don't think I can do it anymore."
"What?" Jim needs to know there're people who have his back, and the only one he totally trusts is Miles. "I need you there, Miles. Come on."
"No, no, you don't get it. I'll still be outside, but not in the van," Miles says.
This makes no sense at all.
"Why?"
Miles doesn't answer, just gets up and shakes his head.
"I just can't. I'll finish this shit tomorrow," he says and then he's gone.
***
When Jim finally arrives home, he's about to unlock the door when he changes his mind, turns around and climbs back into his car. He's at Mile's apartment ten minutes later, rapping lightly on the door. Miles must not be asleep yet; there are still some lights on.
Jim hears footfalls, a pause and the door opens to a shirtless Miles in sweatpants, his hair still damp, apparently from the shower as he’s got a towel draped around his neck. Nice. Jim has to make an effort not to ogle too blatantly.
"What?"
"Can I come in?" Jim asks.
Miles pauses, as if he's going to refuse, then sighs and steps aside.
"What are you doing here? It couldn't wait 'til morning?"
"As a matter of fact, no," Jim says.
Miles stares, and when Jim stays silent he makes a circular motion with his hand, urging him in.
"I'd like to be able to go to bed soon, so if you'd just hurry?" Miles says. He does look tired as hell.
"Tell me why," Jim says.
"Why what?"
"Don't play stupid. Why can't you stay in the van, where I need you?" Jim asks.
Miles scoffs and fiddles with his towel before throwing it in the living room. When he's finished stalling, he finally answers.
"TMI overload. I don't need to hear again and again and again how much of a sex god you are."
One thing Jim's good at is spotting a lie, but as far as he can tell, Miles is telling the truth. For Jim, this explanation makes a whole lot more sense than Miles being stressed out and tired of close calls. If he was that worried about Jim's safety, he'd want to be right there next to the speakers to hear the first hitch in the plan, and then to charge in to the rescue. That he's uncomfortable overhearing the sex, though, is a surprise.
"Come on. You know most of what goes on is for show, especially the stuff I say." Jim says, and if he's honest, he maybe overplays it sometimes just because he knows people - especially Miles - are listening. He has an exhibitionism kink, or he'd never have agreed to do this.
"Sounds pretty convincing to me," Miles grumbles.
"And it bothers you?" Jim can't help but be bewildered by that.
"Yes, it does." Miles sighs again, as if he's just reached his limit. "Can you go now? Please?"
As Jim goes for the door he brushes against Miles deliberately, an arm against his bare chest, taking his thrills where he can. The surprise is that Miles makes a jerky move to step back, in order to put space between them. Miles isn’t meeting his eyes anymore either, which is a very un-Miles thing to do. To test this weird reaction, Jim puts a hand on Miles' shoulder, like he's done a million times.
"Thanks again for earlier," Jim says, sweeping his thumb back and forth on Miles collarbone and can definitely feel Miles shiver. "Maybe you could play the con man one of these days, and I'd get the free audio porn in the van," Jim adds, trying to defuse the tension.
Miles eyes snap to his at last. He doesn't look mollified at all; in fact he's furious again.
"What? You think it's fun to hear you roll around in bed fucking those bimbos? That it's not awkward as hell to have the S.W.A.T. guys sniggering and ask me if the precinct's resident sex god gives tips?" Miles all but yells.
"Whoa, calm down..." Jim says, taking his hand off and trying to sound soothing.
"Calm down? Are you shitting me?” Miles says, as mad as Jim has ever seen him. “Do you want to know what the most fucked up part of it is? It’s that you don't even see the problem in whoring yourself out!"
“What? Miles, what the fuck?”
"You have sex on the job, as part of that job, and are paid while doing it, therefore you are acting as a whore," Miles says viciously.
That's mighty insulting, even if partially true, and it's definitely out of character for Miles to try to hurt someone deliberately. He's often sarcastic and incisive as fuck, but never mean. To put Miles in his place, Jim pushes him away, hard. When Miles’ back hits the wall, only two steps away, Jim uses his bigger physique to crowd him against it and looks down, scowling.
"I get it. You hate what I do. But don't start judging me," Jim says, looking down at Miles who's out of breath, eyes wild.
Jim's sure he's going to get punched in the face when Miles instead surges upwards and kisses him, their mouth colliding painfully. Miles brings his hands up almost immediately, grabbing each side of Jim's head and just goes for broke, biting and kissing harshly. Jim goes from annoyed to aroused in the blink of an eye, and responds in kind, crushing Miles against the wall and sliding a thigh between his legs, finding him hard already. Miles keens and pushes back, wanton.
Miles let go of his head to work on his shirt buttons, fingers made clumsy with either lust or rage - or maybe even both. He bites down hard on Jim's lower lip, which makes him grunt in pain, and if he’s honest, arousal. This is going fast and furious and even if Jim wants nothing more than to get to the main event, a powerful wave of want coursing through him, there's a nagging little voice that tells him that this is a very bad idea. You don't fuck your partner, no matter how much you want to, not if you get along and want to keep him. Otherwise, Jim would have made a play for Miles a long time ago. Jim tries to get a hold of Miles' wrists.
"Wait, wait..."
The little fucker is wiry and way stronger than he seems, though, and rapidly slips out of Jim’s grasp to go return to undressing him.
"Oh no no no. We're not going to stop and I'm not going to wait one more second."
It's not that Jim doesn't appreciate enthusiasm; he does and very much so, but the situation hasn't changed in the last five seconds and this is still is an epically bad idea.
"Miles... we work to-..."
Miles slams a hand on Jim's mouth, and his eyes are wide when he looks up at Jim.
"What? Are you seriously telling me this is when your find your previously nonexistent scruples?"
Jim scoffs under Miles hand, and to make him take it off he employs the best defense ever invented against a move like that: he licks, wet and sloppy. It works as Miles makes a face, takes off his hand and wipes it on Jim's shirt.
"God, you can be so disgusting."
At least, it seems to have stopped Miles’ momentum, as he's not trying to actively get into Jim's clothes anymore. Jim puts his own hand on the back Miles neck and he bends forward to rest their foreheads together and prays for a little cooperation.
"I like you," Jim says, soft and serious.
When Miles replies, there's less scorn than usual. He shakes his head and looks up at Jim with searching eyes.
"You don't have sex with people you like?" Miles asks.
Jim winces.
"Not if I wanna keep 'em. For the long run, that is."
Miles lets his head fall back and thunk against the wall. Then he sighs and his hands finally settle on Jim's hips; he tugs Jim forward a little.
"Sex and keeping someone in the long run are mutually exclusive since when, exactly?"
That's a bit surprising, as Jim had assumed what was happening was Miles letting off steam from pent up frustration, nothing more serious than that. His words and the way he's looking at Jim now shows there's a lot more going on.
"What about..."
Not even letting Jim complete his thought, Miles answers, as if he's read his mind.
"I'd break up with her. For you."
Miles looks painfully honest. When Jim doesn't immediately react to this bombshell, Miles catches him unguarded, pushes Jim away and slips out from between him and the wall. He turns his back to Jim, raking both hands over his head, fingers trying to pull at his short hair.
"And I should never have told you that. Shit," Miles says, sounding upset. "Go. I'll... I'll get over this. Maybe we can split up for a couple of weeks."
There it is, the perfect out. It would be awkward for a while, but maybe they could get past it. But more realistically, this kiss and what has been said would always hang there, between them, and they would never be the same as partners, as friends. And if he's going to lose the dynamic they had not even thirty minutes ago anyway, Jim decides that he wants it to be at least because he had a shot at this, whatever it might be. He does like Miles a whole lot. Always has, too.
So between heading out the door - the maybe not so easy way out - and pushing this on, Jim decides to step closer to Miles, snakes an arm around his waist and rests his forehead on Miles shoulder.
"I didn't know," Jim says. It's an apology, too.
Miles heaves a deep sigh.
"You weren't supposed to know," Miles says. Then, after a beat he adds: "I'm not sure what's happening here."
"I don't want us to split," Jim says.
"You do realize it's going to be awkward as hell," Miles says, matter of factly. Jim can tell that he’s tense, but he’s not moving to get out of Jim's embrace. "And if anyone found out…".
"One thing at a time," Jim replies, and he tugs Miles even closer, and then kisses his neck. "You really think we could have a shot?"
"Yes?" Miles says, but he sounds so unsure that Jim smiles.
"Thought so," he says, turns him around and then frames Miles' face with his hands. "C'mere." Jim pulls him in for another kiss and that's it, Miles is on overdrive again, kissing deep and purposeful, with just a bit too much intent, as if he's been starving for it.
Miles grabs Jim's shirt and steers him out the entryway, walking backwards and pulling him into the apartment and in a straight line towards the bedroom. Miles’ kisses are less punishing than before, but still forceful and it's hot, devastatingly so, to be the center of such passion. The women Jim faux-cons are usually grateful for a little attention outside of marital bonds and ready to be wilder than their usual routine, but it's nothing compared to the focus that Miles puts into this. Jim lets himself be led, then pushed down on the bed as Miles straddles his thighs and starts to undo his shirt, properly this time.
"Seriously, Jim, I wish I could, but I can't be in the van."
Jim smirks at the conversation rewinding to the start. He debates a bit with himself, but can't resist asking, kneading at Miles' thighs.
"Jealous?" Jim says.
Now that he's got Jim's shirt finally opened, Miles rakes his hands up and down Jim's torso with a little half smile, then bends over and bites, hard, right over Jim's collarbone, making him cry out.
"You have no idea," Miles says, before kissing over the bite mark. "Just to know they’re putting their hands, and sometimes even their mouths, all over you makes me sick." Miles punctuates the statement with another bite, this time where Jim's shoulder meets his neck, and Jim groans, tilting his head to give him more access and trying to lift his hips. "And when I hear you fuck them, it takes me everything not to barge in and pull them off you."
It should not be as hot as it is, but Jim's really turned on by the whole thing. He can't believe he missed the signs but then he remembers Miles is one of the best poker players he knows. Of course he kept everything hidden.
"Well you got me now," Jim says and the look Miles gives him is smoldering. A shiver goes down Jim’s spine: he's going to harvest the result of a lot of pent up frustration here. Miles starts licking and biting at Jim's neck, then makes his way down to his chest.
"You still reek of sex, you bastard," Miles growls, before closing his teeth around a nipple, tugging harshly. Jim arches and moans, then tries to get his hands between the two of them to get at his belt and buttons. On the way there, his hand brushes against Miles' erection, which makes him push down into the touch immediately. Re-thinking his course of action, Jim starts to pull down the sweatpants, which earns him an appreciative groan and a kiss to soothe his abused nipple. When he gets his hand on Miles' cock, he gives him a couple of hard pulls and Miles keens again, which is possibly be the hottest thing Jim's heard in forever.
"Yeah, yeah, shit," Miles pants against Jim's neck.
Jim lets Miles' dick go and grabs his hips instead, which doesn't get him as enthusiast a reaction this time.
"Ah, come on!" Mile whines, almost pitiful.
Jim laughs, which surely earns him a glare, even if Miles' face is still pressed against his neck. Jim pulls on Miles hips, urging him up.
"I could keep doing that, or I could blow you," Jim says casually.
Miles doesn't need to be told twice and he scrambles onto all fours before crawling up Jim's body. A couple of pillows end up behind Jim's head and the next moment has Miles holding his cock before Jim's mouth, sweatpants barely down enough to let it out. After a curious lick, just to taste, Jim sucks him in slow and sweet, keeping his eyes on Miles' face, and he's satisfied to see Miles roll his eyes back in his head. He'd grin if he could and Miles must know it because he looks back down and shakes his head in dismay.
"Jesus, you manage to look smug even with a mouth full of cock."
Jim pulls on Miles’ hips a bit, giving him the permission to fuck his mouth, which Miles takes, although only slightly. After accusing Jim of being a whore and getting pretty vicious with the bites, Miles now traces the edge of his jaw very carefully with his fingers, barely sliding his dick in and out of Jim's mouth.
"So fucking beautiful," Miles whispers.
Jim sucks harder, tries to pull him deeper but Miles is setting the pace until Jim finally stops trying to control it and just relaxes into the pillows and takes whatever Miles wants to give. It's as if Miles can sense the capitulation because he brushes the hair from Jim's forehead and almost croons.
"Yeah, yeah, that's it. God you're hot," he says. Experimentally he pushes a bit more and the angle makes it easy for Jim to just open up and take it, as far as Miles wants to go. He stops just before getting to his throat, sliding out again slow and easy.
"I'm not gonna... oh fuck, Jesus..." Mile says after a minute or two, voice strained and stuttering a bit more in his movements.
Jim tries to pull him closer, thinks he can manage to deep throat even if he hasn't done it in a while, but Miles resists and pulls off instead, taking himself in hand and jacking hard for a couple of strokes before he's coming all over his hand, a couple of pearly drops falling on Jim. It's hot as hell to see Miles lose it, face going slack and breathing ragged. He's got a hand on the wall behind Jim's head for support, looking almost ready to collapse. After a couple of seconds, he opens his eyes and sits back on Jim's chest, gazing down at him with a complicated expression. It's fond and annoyed and maybe a bit happy, too, around the edges. Jim grins at him and deliberately bends his neck to lick a bit of come off his shoulder, keeping his eyes on Miles.
"FYI, I have nothing against swallowing."
Miles laughs.
"Of course not, you manwhore." The insult is affectionate this time, and it makes Jim wiggle his eyebrows. Miles' smile turns wicked. "But I like it better this way. Mark you up, make me smell like me," he says, wiping his hand on Jim's chest.
Jim's pretty sure it's meant as a joke, but again, the possessiveness makes something flare in him and he stifles a moan; his dick would really, really love some attention right now. Miles notices this with interest and bends down to kiss Jim, slow but hot, taking control and damn if it doesn't turn Jim's crank to eleven. He's barely conscious of making little abortive thrusts with his hips against nothing but air, when Miles breaks the kiss.
"You like it," he says, pleased. "You want me to make you mine."
Jim's panting by now, wondering if he's not going to come in his pants. Would, probably, if he had anything to rub against.
"Yeah, yeah, come on, please..."
He doesn't quite know what he's begging for, but god, Jim needs, needs something to happen soon because he's going out of his mind. Miles scoots a bit down but he's being mean, avoiding any direct contact with Jim's crotch. He bends down to Jim's ear.
"As soon as I can get it up again, I'm going to fuck you so hard, I'll make you feel me for days," he purrs. Jim arches up, but he can barely touch Miles who's still staying out of reach.
"God, yes, yes, but please, c'mon, make me come!"
"I don't know if you've been nice enough," Miles says, and god, Jim's going to lose it.
He could probably flip Miles over and grind on him, wouldn't take much to get off, but that's not what he wants.
"I've been plenty nice..." Jim slurs. "I'll be better. C'mon, son of a bitch, make me come. Please."
Miles kisses him again, short and deep, then sits down on Jim's thighs and finally, finally works on his damn pants. The sudden release of the pressure takes a bit of the edge off, but Jim's right back there when Miles frees his dick from his boxers and starts to stroke.
"Okay, okay. You did suck me off real good. There you go, c'mon." Miles says, increasing pressure and speed.
Jim doesn't know if it's the praise or just that he finally has some direct contact on his aching cock but he comes right then. The spike of sensation slams into him like a freight train as he lets go. He cries out, gripping at Miles sweats and fucking his fist, riding the wave. When he finally comes down, melting into the bed and relaxing at last, Jim slits his eyes open and sees that Miles looks thoughtful, still holding Jim's dick loosely, but caressing his ribs and abs with the tip of the fingers of the other hand, drawing patterns.
"Sounded genuine enough," Miles muses.
It makes Jim afterglow fade a bit.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Jim says, frowning.
Miles doesn't answer but gets up and grabs the shirt he was wearing earlier from a chair and throws it at Jim, before leaving the bedroom.
Well shit, this is not going so great. Miles probably thinks Jim's just going to get up and leave, dismiss this as a one night stand and get on as usual with his life. With anyone else? Jim admits he'd be right. But Miles might be the best thing that has ever happened to him, his first real friend, and Jim doesn't want to lose him. Pretending the sex never happened would kill their friendship and earlier Miles definitely said that he'd want more, even if now he was acting as if what they did meant nothing more than getting off.
Jim wipes his chest and belly off with the shirt, but instead of getting dressed he gets rid of his clothes, save the boxers, and slips under the sheets. He scoots to the other side of the bed and turns his back to the door. A minute later he hears the shower start and the sound of the water in the pipes combined with the endorphins from of a pretty spectacular orgasm soon lulls Jim into limbo.
"You're still there."
Miles' statement startles Jim conscious. He doesn't turn, even as the bed dips.
"If ya wan't me t'go, kick m'out," Jim slurs.
There's an amused snort and Miles gets in the bed too.
"Yeah, as if anyone ever kicked you out of bed."
With a deep sigh - he's fucking tired of this already - Jim turns around. Miles is on his side, observing him.
"Jesus Christ, Miles. This won't work if you don't trust me. This," Jim says, wiggling his hands between the two of them, "is more than a fantastic one time deal."
Miles eyebrows climb up his forehead.
"It is?"
The urge to shake Miles is strong, but Jim remembers all of the sometimes true rumors about him, and admits that the skepticism might not be entirely unwarranted.
"Yes," Jim says, serious. Then he turns around again, getting comfortable. "And I'm not looking for a fuckbuddy either," he grumbles. Getting through Miles' thick skull will take some time, but Jim's pretty sure he can out-stubborn him.
After a minute Miles turns off the bedside lamp and settles down himself. Jim thinks that he's not going to come near when he feels tentative fingers on his hip.
"For god's sake," Jim sighs, then grips Miles wrist and tugs until he's against Jim’s back, capturing Miles' forearm against his chest. For a second Miles is tense but he soon relaxes against Jim and even nuzzles the hair at his neck. That's better.
"Are you sure?" Miles whispers, thumb now stroking Jim's chest, and he sounds so hopeful it makes Jim's heart ache.
"Yeah. I want this," Jim says, bringing Miles' hand up to kiss the tip of his fingers before putting it back over his heart.
"If we're, you know, together, I'm pretty sure I won't be able to handle you having sex on the job," Miles says.
"Then it won't happen again. We'll find another way." Jim agrees.
Miles makes a pleased humming sound and burrows closer, tangling their legs together. It's going to get too hot real soon, but for now it's really nice.
Jim's about to drift off when he thinks of something.
"By the way, the girlfriend’s gotta go. I'm not good with sharing, either," Jim says.
He feels Miles' smile in the way he breathes.
"Yeah, yeah. Right after the threesome," he says.
Jim laughs.
"What? You kinky son of a bitch."
Miles sniggers.
"Well, she won't even blame me for wanting to be with you, afterward. It's the perfect break up plan."
Devious, really, but that's Miles for you.
"I'm not so sure about that," Jim says, because it's a recipe for disaster.
"Oh, but I am," Miles says, closing his teeth on one of his earlier bite marks, where neck meets shoulder, and Jim grunts at the sharp pain and at the pleasure that zings down his spine. When he lets go, Miles adds, "Anyway, from now on you're going to do as I say and you're gonna love it."
Honestly? Jim doesn't have a problem with that. He trusts Miles with basically everything else, including his life, so why not with this too?
"Okay, fine. Whatever. You're the boss," he concedes.
"Damn right," Miles says, and then yawns. "Shush now. I'm tired. Need my strength to fuck you later."
Grinning, Jim closes his eyes. He thinks they've got a shot to make this work. One thing's for sure: it should be interesting, to say the least.
The End.
I hope you liked!
Fandom/Pairing: Lost, Miles/Sawyer
Rating: ~ 4 500 words, NC17
Warnings: *SPOILERS* for Lost 6-08: Recon; slight D/s dynamic
Notes: Y'all knew I'd go there. Don't act surprised ;) Many thank yous to zelda_zee who went above and beyond in her beta. This fic is way better because of it.
Summary: Miles glares. A lot.
I'll warn again, just to be sure: this fic has *SPOILERS* for Lost 6-08: Recon
Every Game You Play
The problem with an undercover operation that didn't work as planned is that it generates as much paperwork as if they'd caught the big fish, and not just his cheating wife for illegal possession of a firearm. In fact, it might even be more trouble, as Jim has to write his report in circles to explain where it went wrong and how unfortunate it is that all of those tax dollars were spent for nothing. Jim's pretty frustrated. Miles is throwing him dark looks from the desk across from his while filling out his own million and one forms too.
The glares, by the way, are just not fair: Jim's good under cover, but he can't have a perfect batting average.
Slowly, the office empties, and only the guys and gals from the night shift remain. Oh, and Miles, who should be done by now but no, he's still glaring. Jim can't help but imagine a couple of dirty ways he'd mellow Miles out, but those are his fantasies running wild again. He really should stop having inappropriate thoughts about his best friend.
"Gimme a break, Sunshine," Jim mutters. "I couldn't know she'd catch on."
"Yeah, yeah, make me cry," Miles says, and he's pushing so hard on his pencil that the tip snaps. He throws it toward the other end of the office with a frustrated growl.
"What the fuck is your problem?" Jim says, scowling at him.
"You're not careful enough, that's my problem," Miles says, finally meeting Jim's eyes. "You were this close," he says, pinching his thumb and index finger together.
Oh, so that's what crawled up Miles' ass and died. He got scared at the close call and now he takes it out the only way he knows how. Jim relaxes a bit and tries to sound casual.
"We know the risks in signing up for this job, partner. Besides, I knew you guys would save my ass. You always do."
"Until we don't," Miles says with a big sigh. He then seems to remember he's mad and frowns again. "I don't think I can do it anymore."
"What?" Jim needs to know there're people who have his back, and the only one he totally trusts is Miles. "I need you there, Miles. Come on."
"No, no, you don't get it. I'll still be outside, but not in the van," Miles says.
This makes no sense at all.
"Why?"
Miles doesn't answer, just gets up and shakes his head.
"I just can't. I'll finish this shit tomorrow," he says and then he's gone.
***
When Jim finally arrives home, he's about to unlock the door when he changes his mind, turns around and climbs back into his car. He's at Mile's apartment ten minutes later, rapping lightly on the door. Miles must not be asleep yet; there are still some lights on.
Jim hears footfalls, a pause and the door opens to a shirtless Miles in sweatpants, his hair still damp, apparently from the shower as he’s got a towel draped around his neck. Nice. Jim has to make an effort not to ogle too blatantly.
"What?"
"Can I come in?" Jim asks.
Miles pauses, as if he's going to refuse, then sighs and steps aside.
"What are you doing here? It couldn't wait 'til morning?"
"As a matter of fact, no," Jim says.
Miles stares, and when Jim stays silent he makes a circular motion with his hand, urging him in.
"I'd like to be able to go to bed soon, so if you'd just hurry?" Miles says. He does look tired as hell.
"Tell me why," Jim says.
"Why what?"
"Don't play stupid. Why can't you stay in the van, where I need you?" Jim asks.
Miles scoffs and fiddles with his towel before throwing it in the living room. When he's finished stalling, he finally answers.
"TMI overload. I don't need to hear again and again and again how much of a sex god you are."
One thing Jim's good at is spotting a lie, but as far as he can tell, Miles is telling the truth. For Jim, this explanation makes a whole lot more sense than Miles being stressed out and tired of close calls. If he was that worried about Jim's safety, he'd want to be right there next to the speakers to hear the first hitch in the plan, and then to charge in to the rescue. That he's uncomfortable overhearing the sex, though, is a surprise.
"Come on. You know most of what goes on is for show, especially the stuff I say." Jim says, and if he's honest, he maybe overplays it sometimes just because he knows people - especially Miles - are listening. He has an exhibitionism kink, or he'd never have agreed to do this.
"Sounds pretty convincing to me," Miles grumbles.
"And it bothers you?" Jim can't help but be bewildered by that.
"Yes, it does." Miles sighs again, as if he's just reached his limit. "Can you go now? Please?"
As Jim goes for the door he brushes against Miles deliberately, an arm against his bare chest, taking his thrills where he can. The surprise is that Miles makes a jerky move to step back, in order to put space between them. Miles isn’t meeting his eyes anymore either, which is a very un-Miles thing to do. To test this weird reaction, Jim puts a hand on Miles' shoulder, like he's done a million times.
"Thanks again for earlier," Jim says, sweeping his thumb back and forth on Miles collarbone and can definitely feel Miles shiver. "Maybe you could play the con man one of these days, and I'd get the free audio porn in the van," Jim adds, trying to defuse the tension.
Miles eyes snap to his at last. He doesn't look mollified at all; in fact he's furious again.
"What? You think it's fun to hear you roll around in bed fucking those bimbos? That it's not awkward as hell to have the S.W.A.T. guys sniggering and ask me if the precinct's resident sex god gives tips?" Miles all but yells.
"Whoa, calm down..." Jim says, taking his hand off and trying to sound soothing.
"Calm down? Are you shitting me?” Miles says, as mad as Jim has ever seen him. “Do you want to know what the most fucked up part of it is? It’s that you don't even see the problem in whoring yourself out!"
“What? Miles, what the fuck?”
"You have sex on the job, as part of that job, and are paid while doing it, therefore you are acting as a whore," Miles says viciously.
That's mighty insulting, even if partially true, and it's definitely out of character for Miles to try to hurt someone deliberately. He's often sarcastic and incisive as fuck, but never mean. To put Miles in his place, Jim pushes him away, hard. When Miles’ back hits the wall, only two steps away, Jim uses his bigger physique to crowd him against it and looks down, scowling.
"I get it. You hate what I do. But don't start judging me," Jim says, looking down at Miles who's out of breath, eyes wild.
Jim's sure he's going to get punched in the face when Miles instead surges upwards and kisses him, their mouth colliding painfully. Miles brings his hands up almost immediately, grabbing each side of Jim's head and just goes for broke, biting and kissing harshly. Jim goes from annoyed to aroused in the blink of an eye, and responds in kind, crushing Miles against the wall and sliding a thigh between his legs, finding him hard already. Miles keens and pushes back, wanton.
Miles let go of his head to work on his shirt buttons, fingers made clumsy with either lust or rage - or maybe even both. He bites down hard on Jim's lower lip, which makes him grunt in pain, and if he’s honest, arousal. This is going fast and furious and even if Jim wants nothing more than to get to the main event, a powerful wave of want coursing through him, there's a nagging little voice that tells him that this is a very bad idea. You don't fuck your partner, no matter how much you want to, not if you get along and want to keep him. Otherwise, Jim would have made a play for Miles a long time ago. Jim tries to get a hold of Miles' wrists.
"Wait, wait..."
The little fucker is wiry and way stronger than he seems, though, and rapidly slips out of Jim’s grasp to go return to undressing him.
"Oh no no no. We're not going to stop and I'm not going to wait one more second."
It's not that Jim doesn't appreciate enthusiasm; he does and very much so, but the situation hasn't changed in the last five seconds and this is still is an epically bad idea.
"Miles... we work to-..."
Miles slams a hand on Jim's mouth, and his eyes are wide when he looks up at Jim.
"What? Are you seriously telling me this is when your find your previously nonexistent scruples?"
Jim scoffs under Miles hand, and to make him take it off he employs the best defense ever invented against a move like that: he licks, wet and sloppy. It works as Miles makes a face, takes off his hand and wipes it on Jim's shirt.
"God, you can be so disgusting."
At least, it seems to have stopped Miles’ momentum, as he's not trying to actively get into Jim's clothes anymore. Jim puts his own hand on the back Miles neck and he bends forward to rest their foreheads together and prays for a little cooperation.
"I like you," Jim says, soft and serious.
When Miles replies, there's less scorn than usual. He shakes his head and looks up at Jim with searching eyes.
"You don't have sex with people you like?" Miles asks.
Jim winces.
"Not if I wanna keep 'em. For the long run, that is."
Miles lets his head fall back and thunk against the wall. Then he sighs and his hands finally settle on Jim's hips; he tugs Jim forward a little.
"Sex and keeping someone in the long run are mutually exclusive since when, exactly?"
That's a bit surprising, as Jim had assumed what was happening was Miles letting off steam from pent up frustration, nothing more serious than that. His words and the way he's looking at Jim now shows there's a lot more going on.
"What about..."
Not even letting Jim complete his thought, Miles answers, as if he's read his mind.
"I'd break up with her. For you."
Miles looks painfully honest. When Jim doesn't immediately react to this bombshell, Miles catches him unguarded, pushes Jim away and slips out from between him and the wall. He turns his back to Jim, raking both hands over his head, fingers trying to pull at his short hair.
"And I should never have told you that. Shit," Miles says, sounding upset. "Go. I'll... I'll get over this. Maybe we can split up for a couple of weeks."
There it is, the perfect out. It would be awkward for a while, but maybe they could get past it. But more realistically, this kiss and what has been said would always hang there, between them, and they would never be the same as partners, as friends. And if he's going to lose the dynamic they had not even thirty minutes ago anyway, Jim decides that he wants it to be at least because he had a shot at this, whatever it might be. He does like Miles a whole lot. Always has, too.
So between heading out the door - the maybe not so easy way out - and pushing this on, Jim decides to step closer to Miles, snakes an arm around his waist and rests his forehead on Miles shoulder.
"I didn't know," Jim says. It's an apology, too.
Miles heaves a deep sigh.
"You weren't supposed to know," Miles says. Then, after a beat he adds: "I'm not sure what's happening here."
"I don't want us to split," Jim says.
"You do realize it's going to be awkward as hell," Miles says, matter of factly. Jim can tell that he’s tense, but he’s not moving to get out of Jim's embrace. "And if anyone found out…".
"One thing at a time," Jim replies, and he tugs Miles even closer, and then kisses his neck. "You really think we could have a shot?"
"Yes?" Miles says, but he sounds so unsure that Jim smiles.
"Thought so," he says, turns him around and then frames Miles' face with his hands. "C'mere." Jim pulls him in for another kiss and that's it, Miles is on overdrive again, kissing deep and purposeful, with just a bit too much intent, as if he's been starving for it.
Miles grabs Jim's shirt and steers him out the entryway, walking backwards and pulling him into the apartment and in a straight line towards the bedroom. Miles’ kisses are less punishing than before, but still forceful and it's hot, devastatingly so, to be the center of such passion. The women Jim faux-cons are usually grateful for a little attention outside of marital bonds and ready to be wilder than their usual routine, but it's nothing compared to the focus that Miles puts into this. Jim lets himself be led, then pushed down on the bed as Miles straddles his thighs and starts to undo his shirt, properly this time.
"Seriously, Jim, I wish I could, but I can't be in the van."
Jim smirks at the conversation rewinding to the start. He debates a bit with himself, but can't resist asking, kneading at Miles' thighs.
"Jealous?" Jim says.
Now that he's got Jim's shirt finally opened, Miles rakes his hands up and down Jim's torso with a little half smile, then bends over and bites, hard, right over Jim's collarbone, making him cry out.
"You have no idea," Miles says, before kissing over the bite mark. "Just to know they’re putting their hands, and sometimes even their mouths, all over you makes me sick." Miles punctuates the statement with another bite, this time where Jim's shoulder meets his neck, and Jim groans, tilting his head to give him more access and trying to lift his hips. "And when I hear you fuck them, it takes me everything not to barge in and pull them off you."
It should not be as hot as it is, but Jim's really turned on by the whole thing. He can't believe he missed the signs but then he remembers Miles is one of the best poker players he knows. Of course he kept everything hidden.
"Well you got me now," Jim says and the look Miles gives him is smoldering. A shiver goes down Jim’s spine: he's going to harvest the result of a lot of pent up frustration here. Miles starts licking and biting at Jim's neck, then makes his way down to his chest.
"You still reek of sex, you bastard," Miles growls, before closing his teeth around a nipple, tugging harshly. Jim arches and moans, then tries to get his hands between the two of them to get at his belt and buttons. On the way there, his hand brushes against Miles' erection, which makes him push down into the touch immediately. Re-thinking his course of action, Jim starts to pull down the sweatpants, which earns him an appreciative groan and a kiss to soothe his abused nipple. When he gets his hand on Miles' cock, he gives him a couple of hard pulls and Miles keens again, which is possibly be the hottest thing Jim's heard in forever.
"Yeah, yeah, shit," Miles pants against Jim's neck.
Jim lets Miles' dick go and grabs his hips instead, which doesn't get him as enthusiast a reaction this time.
"Ah, come on!" Mile whines, almost pitiful.
Jim laughs, which surely earns him a glare, even if Miles' face is still pressed against his neck. Jim pulls on Miles hips, urging him up.
"I could keep doing that, or I could blow you," Jim says casually.
Miles doesn't need to be told twice and he scrambles onto all fours before crawling up Jim's body. A couple of pillows end up behind Jim's head and the next moment has Miles holding his cock before Jim's mouth, sweatpants barely down enough to let it out. After a curious lick, just to taste, Jim sucks him in slow and sweet, keeping his eyes on Miles' face, and he's satisfied to see Miles roll his eyes back in his head. He'd grin if he could and Miles must know it because he looks back down and shakes his head in dismay.
"Jesus, you manage to look smug even with a mouth full of cock."
Jim pulls on Miles’ hips a bit, giving him the permission to fuck his mouth, which Miles takes, although only slightly. After accusing Jim of being a whore and getting pretty vicious with the bites, Miles now traces the edge of his jaw very carefully with his fingers, barely sliding his dick in and out of Jim's mouth.
"So fucking beautiful," Miles whispers.
Jim sucks harder, tries to pull him deeper but Miles is setting the pace until Jim finally stops trying to control it and just relaxes into the pillows and takes whatever Miles wants to give. It's as if Miles can sense the capitulation because he brushes the hair from Jim's forehead and almost croons.
"Yeah, yeah, that's it. God you're hot," he says. Experimentally he pushes a bit more and the angle makes it easy for Jim to just open up and take it, as far as Miles wants to go. He stops just before getting to his throat, sliding out again slow and easy.
"I'm not gonna... oh fuck, Jesus..." Mile says after a minute or two, voice strained and stuttering a bit more in his movements.
Jim tries to pull him closer, thinks he can manage to deep throat even if he hasn't done it in a while, but Miles resists and pulls off instead, taking himself in hand and jacking hard for a couple of strokes before he's coming all over his hand, a couple of pearly drops falling on Jim. It's hot as hell to see Miles lose it, face going slack and breathing ragged. He's got a hand on the wall behind Jim's head for support, looking almost ready to collapse. After a couple of seconds, he opens his eyes and sits back on Jim's chest, gazing down at him with a complicated expression. It's fond and annoyed and maybe a bit happy, too, around the edges. Jim grins at him and deliberately bends his neck to lick a bit of come off his shoulder, keeping his eyes on Miles.
"FYI, I have nothing against swallowing."
Miles laughs.
"Of course not, you manwhore." The insult is affectionate this time, and it makes Jim wiggle his eyebrows. Miles' smile turns wicked. "But I like it better this way. Mark you up, make me smell like me," he says, wiping his hand on Jim's chest.
Jim's pretty sure it's meant as a joke, but again, the possessiveness makes something flare in him and he stifles a moan; his dick would really, really love some attention right now. Miles notices this with interest and bends down to kiss Jim, slow but hot, taking control and damn if it doesn't turn Jim's crank to eleven. He's barely conscious of making little abortive thrusts with his hips against nothing but air, when Miles breaks the kiss.
"You like it," he says, pleased. "You want me to make you mine."
Jim's panting by now, wondering if he's not going to come in his pants. Would, probably, if he had anything to rub against.
"Yeah, yeah, come on, please..."
He doesn't quite know what he's begging for, but god, Jim needs, needs something to happen soon because he's going out of his mind. Miles scoots a bit down but he's being mean, avoiding any direct contact with Jim's crotch. He bends down to Jim's ear.
"As soon as I can get it up again, I'm going to fuck you so hard, I'll make you feel me for days," he purrs. Jim arches up, but he can barely touch Miles who's still staying out of reach.
"God, yes, yes, but please, c'mon, make me come!"
"I don't know if you've been nice enough," Miles says, and god, Jim's going to lose it.
He could probably flip Miles over and grind on him, wouldn't take much to get off, but that's not what he wants.
"I've been plenty nice..." Jim slurs. "I'll be better. C'mon, son of a bitch, make me come. Please."
Miles kisses him again, short and deep, then sits down on Jim's thighs and finally, finally works on his damn pants. The sudden release of the pressure takes a bit of the edge off, but Jim's right back there when Miles frees his dick from his boxers and starts to stroke.
"Okay, okay. You did suck me off real good. There you go, c'mon." Miles says, increasing pressure and speed.
Jim doesn't know if it's the praise or just that he finally has some direct contact on his aching cock but he comes right then. The spike of sensation slams into him like a freight train as he lets go. He cries out, gripping at Miles sweats and fucking his fist, riding the wave. When he finally comes down, melting into the bed and relaxing at last, Jim slits his eyes open and sees that Miles looks thoughtful, still holding Jim's dick loosely, but caressing his ribs and abs with the tip of the fingers of the other hand, drawing patterns.
"Sounded genuine enough," Miles muses.
It makes Jim afterglow fade a bit.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Jim says, frowning.
Miles doesn't answer but gets up and grabs the shirt he was wearing earlier from a chair and throws it at Jim, before leaving the bedroom.
Well shit, this is not going so great. Miles probably thinks Jim's just going to get up and leave, dismiss this as a one night stand and get on as usual with his life. With anyone else? Jim admits he'd be right. But Miles might be the best thing that has ever happened to him, his first real friend, and Jim doesn't want to lose him. Pretending the sex never happened would kill their friendship and earlier Miles definitely said that he'd want more, even if now he was acting as if what they did meant nothing more than getting off.
Jim wipes his chest and belly off with the shirt, but instead of getting dressed he gets rid of his clothes, save the boxers, and slips under the sheets. He scoots to the other side of the bed and turns his back to the door. A minute later he hears the shower start and the sound of the water in the pipes combined with the endorphins from of a pretty spectacular orgasm soon lulls Jim into limbo.
"You're still there."
Miles' statement startles Jim conscious. He doesn't turn, even as the bed dips.
"If ya wan't me t'go, kick m'out," Jim slurs.
There's an amused snort and Miles gets in the bed too.
"Yeah, as if anyone ever kicked you out of bed."
With a deep sigh - he's fucking tired of this already - Jim turns around. Miles is on his side, observing him.
"Jesus Christ, Miles. This won't work if you don't trust me. This," Jim says, wiggling his hands between the two of them, "is more than a fantastic one time deal."
Miles eyebrows climb up his forehead.
"It is?"
The urge to shake Miles is strong, but Jim remembers all of the sometimes true rumors about him, and admits that the skepticism might not be entirely unwarranted.
"Yes," Jim says, serious. Then he turns around again, getting comfortable. "And I'm not looking for a fuckbuddy either," he grumbles. Getting through Miles' thick skull will take some time, but Jim's pretty sure he can out-stubborn him.
After a minute Miles turns off the bedside lamp and settles down himself. Jim thinks that he's not going to come near when he feels tentative fingers on his hip.
"For god's sake," Jim sighs, then grips Miles wrist and tugs until he's against Jim’s back, capturing Miles' forearm against his chest. For a second Miles is tense but he soon relaxes against Jim and even nuzzles the hair at his neck. That's better.
"Are you sure?" Miles whispers, thumb now stroking Jim's chest, and he sounds so hopeful it makes Jim's heart ache.
"Yeah. I want this," Jim says, bringing Miles' hand up to kiss the tip of his fingers before putting it back over his heart.
"If we're, you know, together, I'm pretty sure I won't be able to handle you having sex on the job," Miles says.
"Then it won't happen again. We'll find another way." Jim agrees.
Miles makes a pleased humming sound and burrows closer, tangling their legs together. It's going to get too hot real soon, but for now it's really nice.
Jim's about to drift off when he thinks of something.
"By the way, the girlfriend’s gotta go. I'm not good with sharing, either," Jim says.
He feels Miles' smile in the way he breathes.
"Yeah, yeah. Right after the threesome," he says.
Jim laughs.
"What? You kinky son of a bitch."
Miles sniggers.
"Well, she won't even blame me for wanting to be with you, afterward. It's the perfect break up plan."
Devious, really, but that's Miles for you.
"I'm not so sure about that," Jim says, because it's a recipe for disaster.
"Oh, but I am," Miles says, closing his teeth on one of his earlier bite marks, where neck meets shoulder, and Jim grunts at the sharp pain and at the pleasure that zings down his spine. When he lets go, Miles adds, "Anyway, from now on you're going to do as I say and you're gonna love it."
Honestly? Jim doesn't have a problem with that. He trusts Miles with basically everything else, including his life, so why not with this too?
"Okay, fine. Whatever. You're the boss," he concedes.
"Damn right," Miles says, and then yawns. "Shush now. I'm tired. Need my strength to fuck you later."
Grinning, Jim closes his eyes. He thinks they've got a shot to make this work. One thing's for sure: it should be interesting, to say the least.
The End.
I hope you liked!