WE COMM ALL DAY EVERYDAY

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Sam’s going to break his chair at some point. It’s already been through the ringer as it is, and is barely being held together by duct tape and prayers whenever he leans back in it. Every blowjob he gets in it is really just asking for trouble at this point.

“Hh, ah bloody hell Simon--” He fists a hand in Simon’s hair and grips it, but that only makes Simon moan around his cock.

Trouble or not, Simon’s good enough with his mouth for Sam to risk it every single time.

Strong fingers dig into his bare thighs, holding him steady as Simon bobs his head over Sam’s lap. The sight of it is already enough to have Sam’s breath hitching in his chest, but the sound echoing around the metal box of the comms shack is so dirty that he doubts he’ll stop hearing it in his head for days to come.

“I’m--” Sam lets his head fall back, moaning aloud as Simon sinks all the way down, taking every inch of Sam down his throat. A sharp swear rises in Sam’s throat, but he’s too tight to let it out, every muscle in his body tensing in pleasure and preparation .

Simon swallows around him, devastating Sam to the core. He curls forward, so drawn up that it almost hurts, but it only highlights how good Simon’s tongue feels as it works against his shaft.

All at once the tension releases, sparks of electricity thundering through his body, riding along his skeleton as he comes. There’s a soft grunt, and Simon pulls off too soon, white stripes splashing against his chin and cheek.

“Sh-- Sorry,” Sam pants, forcing his hand to loosen from Simon’s head. He flops back, the chair protesting the sudden movement. Simon sits up, a grin firmly in place as he runs his tongue over his lower lip.

“That was actually quite impressive, wasn’t it?” he says, which has Sam rolling his eyes.

“Yes, yes you’re cock sucking skills are unparallel--”

“Not that-- Well, yeah that, but also your range Sammy boy.”

Sam kicks at him as much as he’s able with his trousers tangled around his knees, but Simon just catches his ankle, laughing at him. It would be insufferable if Sam didn’t like him so much.

“It helps that I’ve never had someone do that.”

“What, deep throating?”

“Yeah you swallowed me man, what the hell?”

Simon cackles. “You should talk to Jack, he’s not got a gag reflex.”

Heat rushes to Sam face and he tries to wiggle his foot away from Simon. “Don’t bring Jack into this.”

“Why not? He’s a fit lad.” Simon studies him carefully, his teeth glinting in the low light of the monitors. “Oho, that’s the thing isn’t it? You think he’s fit.”

“Shit eating grins are more effective when you’re not all covered in goo,” Sam says, this time firmly pressing away off Simon’s chest, sending the office chair swerving back. It finally gives him enough room to stand and shimmy his clothes back into place.

Simon makes a face. “Did you just call it goo?”

“Well it is!”

“God.” Simon flips the hem of his shirt so he can wipe himself clean with the inside, which he does while giving Sam a deeply disappointed look. Well, bugger him.

Once they’re both situated and nearly decent, Sam awkwardly sits back in the chair.

“We should really stop making this a habit,” Sam says. He gestures towards the monitors, where Runner Twelve is patiently warming up at the gates, ready for their mission. Simon snorts.

“Nah, I just need to get you off faster. Ooh, we can make a game of it.” Simon chuckles and asks, “How do you feel about a bit of fingering?”

Alright, that’s enough. Sam, face burning, gets up and starts shoving him towards the door. “Goodbye Simon!”

“That’s not a no!” Simon says, laughing even as he’s deposited outside, the door firmly shut behind him.