I wrote this when I hadn't seen any eps in a long time -- my apologies if the voices are off.

written August 13, 1999


Reach Out And...

by Arduinna


"Sam?" Al walked into the house after a perfunctory knock, repeating his call as he did. He wandered through the first floor, puzzled at the silence that answered him. He could've sworn that Sam had said he'd be home this morning, relaxing after putting in grueling hours at the Project for the past week. Budget meetings, paperwork, soothing ruffled feathers all over the place... oh yeah, and doing the work he was supposed to be doing, as well. Things like research, and development, and science so advanced it really did look like magic.

Okay, it was a bit early -- but Sam had never lost his farmboy training, and was usually up well before 8 am, even if he was sleeping in.

He finally reached the kitchen and stopped, bemused. There was a pot of coffee keeping warm, and a few dishes in the sink, but there was still no sign of Sam. Curiouser and curiouser, he mused silently. But no sense letting good coffee sit there until it went stale. He poured himself a mug, tasting it and finding it still fresh. Sam had to be around somewhere.

A noise from outside caught his attention, and he walked out the back door. Found, one Sam Beckett, he thought, amused. Then his breath caught as he realized what exactly he was looking at.

Sam was bent over the engine of a car, t-shirt-clad torso indistinct but denim-clad lower half all too visible. Al swallowed hard, absently grateful he didn't have a mouthful of coffee to choke on, as his gaze travelled along the well-worn jeans, from clearly defined ass -- god, so very clearly defined -- to the taut length of the legs at full stretch, muscles firm under the cloth.

Sam shifted, apparently looking for better leverage for whatever it was he was doing, and Al clenched his fingers tight around the mug's handle. If the other man had had any idea what he looked like with his legs spreading out like that, bent over like that....

Taking a deep breath, Al forced himself to shut his eyes and find some measure of calm. Sam didn't know what he looked like -- hell, didn't even know there was anyone standing there watching -- and he sure didn't need Al standing here drooling over something he could never have.

"Well, don't just stand there drinking my coffee, Al -- hand me a wrench."

Al's eyes flew open and he stared at Sam, who hadn't moved from his position under the hood. How...? He shook his head. Didn't matter how. Putting the mug down on the closest available surface, he moved closer. As soon as he reached the car he grabbed a wrench from the toolbox balanced on the edge of it and leaned in a little bit to hand it to Sam.

"This what you were looking for?"

"Yeah, great, thanks." Sam took it, his fingers brushing against Al's as he did, and kept working in easy silence. Al watched his hands manipulating tools and machinery for a minute, then took another deep breath. He bit back a groan; the heat rising off Sam's body and the scent of him mixing with the engine oil was almost too much. With an effort he straightened up, moving away to recover his coffee.

After a few fortifying sips and some stern mental admonitions to himself, he was in control enough to tease.

"So, Sam, this is what you do on your day off, huh? You spend all week messing around in a computer's innards, then come home and relax by messing around in a car's innards?"

Sam turned his head to look over his shoulder and grinned at Al, that bright boyish grin that melted Al every time. "Yeah, but at least the car doesn't talk back!"

Al managed to grin back. "Good point. But don't let Ziggy catch you saying you'd rather work on a mindless car." Sam shuddered, grin widening, and turned back to the problem at hand. "But seriously, Sam -- I wouldn't have figured you'd decide that manual labor -- greasy manual labor -- was a good way to relax."

"It's my farmboy upbringing," Sam said from the depths of the engine with a chuckle. "Can't seem to keep from doing what needs to be done. Besides, what about you, Al?" he asked, then grunted as whatever he was tugging on came free. He reached blindly back and felt around in the toolbox for a minute, finally pulling out what he needed and bringing his hand back to the broken part. "Verbeena said we were both working too hard, that we both had to take the entire weekend off. What are you doing here? I figured you'd either be sleeping in at home or having breakfast in bed at some hotel with some young lovely. Or maybe off in Vegas, catching a couple of shows, not to mention a couple of showgirls...."

Al blinked. That hadn't even occurred to him. It was his day off, and he should have been sleeping, or off having fun, not looking for Sam. But... he hadn't seen Sam enough this week. Okay, so they'd been working side by side almost the whole week, had had almost every meal together -- but it still hadn't been enough. It never was. "Ahh... just wanted to be sure you were following orders," he finally managed to say lamely.

Sam just chuckled again and kept working. The silence that grew was easy, and Al, relieved at being let off the hook, cautiously let himself enjoy the view again. Hell, he'd had enough practice at not letting Sam know what he was doing all these years. If only it were still as simple as it had been while Sam was leaping.... I didn't mean, it, God! he thought frantically. It's better with him home, always, always. I don't want him to leap again, ever. Please, don't ever let him leap again.

All those years of never being able to touch, of always having to put a good face on it no matter what was happening, of being Sam's only link to reality -- he never wanted to go through that again. All those years of looking, and wanting, and falling in love, and never being able to say or do anything about it. Never being able to touch.

His gaze unseeing now, Al absently rubbed his fingers together where Sam had touched him a few minutes ago. He could almost still feel the warm skin against his. Touch. What a precious gift. The day that Sam had finally leapt home, finally stepped back out of that damned Accelerator and fallen straight into Al's arms, both of them crying like babies, was very possibly the best day of his entire life, all because he'd been able to touch. They hadn't stopped touching for days, it seemed like. Every time he turned around, Sam was hugging him and blinking back tears through his smile. Okay, so Sam was hugging everyone, and blinking back tears at things as simple as lights that came on when he told them to -- but he hugged Al more. He touched Al more -- on the arm, on the back, on the face, on the back of the neck. Any chance he got, any chance he could make. And Al had touched back, trying like hell to keep Sam within constant reach, reassuring himself every other minute that Sam was there, was real.

It had all calmed down after a while, of course. Sam stopped smiling every time technology did what it was supposed to do, and started just expecting it to work right. He stopped hugging everyone else, and a day or so after that stopped hugging Al. He still touched, but it wasn't constant; it was more often than before he'd leapt, but it was casual and unthinking again. Al perforce had had to ease off as well, mourning the loss.

And it wasn't just the touch he'd lost. Every time Sam had hugged him, or he'd hugged Sam, he'd been able to fill himself up on the scent of him, breathing in all those smells that said "Sam". That first day he'd even tasted that warm skin, unable to resist kissing Sam on the cheek over and over again, getting a kiss back most times. And once, just once, that very first moment after Sam had come home and they'd pulled out of each other's arms enough to breathe, he'd brushed a kiss across Sam's lips between kissing him on both cheeks. Sam had just sorta sobbed and hugged him tighter, burying his head in Al's neck and giving Al the chance to bury his face in Sam's.

It had never been that good since. He'd had to learn how to deal with wanting to touch and being able to touch, just not in the way he wanted to. Had to learn how to look without being caught at it, and how long he could look without driving himself crazy, knowing that Sam was just an arm's reach away. Had to learn how to share Sam again, like he hadn't had to do since the first day he leapt, stomping on the jealousy that swamped him every time Sam spent more than a minute with anyone else, and especially when he touched them. All those years he'd waited to touch Sam, for Sam to touch him, and here Sam was handing out those precious touches to all and sundry. Had to learn not to cling when Sam touched him, making it all real again. And he'd had to learn it all in a heartbeat.

But he'd learned. Al Calavicci was nothing if not a quick study. Sam never had a clue, and his touches and glances and words stayed casual and innocent and precious and brotherly. So near and yet so far, Al thought ruefully, blinking himself back to awareness as the scene in front of him shifted. But any kind of "near" was worth having, and he was fiercely grateful for it. Thank you, God, for bringing him home safe and sane. It was his new mantra, having taken over from "Please, God, bring him home safe and sane and soon", and he recited it every day without fail and with complete sincerity.

He blinked again when he realized Sam was moving, straightening up and putting tools back in the toolbox and stretching. God, the line of that back, those legs, as Sam indulged himself in a full stretch. Al swallowed hard and managed a smile as Sam turned and propped himself up on the edge of the car, wiping his hands off with a rag.

Sam was smiling, sweet and gentle. But he wasn't saying a word -- he was just looking at Al, and smiling. For an insane moment, Al wanted to glance down and check his zipper. For an even more insane moment, he let his glance flick down to Sam's zipper, then yanked it back up to Sam's face. Sam's smile had widened a bit. Al swallowed again, his palms going sweaty.

"You get it fixed, there, Sam?" he managed to ask, trying desperately for a normal tone while he tried to figure out just what the hell was going on. Sam's smile was... different.

Sam nodded. "Yeah, it's fine now." He was still smiling.

"Good, good. What was wrong with it?"

"Nothing important." Sam dropped his head briefly to watch his hands wiping each other clean with the rag, then glanced up again straight at Al. He tossed the rag aside and pushed off with his ass to stand up straight, making Al's stomach clench at the grace of the movement. Still smiling, Sam walked slowly toward Al. "I think it's time we talked, Al," he said softly.

The clenching in Al's stomach got much less pleasant. "What do you mean, talk? We talk all the time, Sam -- every day, remember?"

Sam kept walking and smiling, hard-muscled body shown off to perfection in the tight white t-shirt and snug faded jeans, until finally he was right up inside Al's personal space. Al was almost panting with the effort to hold still, to keep himself from fleeing whatever it was Sam wanted to say.

"I know," Sam said, still quiet. "But I think it's time to talk." He took Al's forgotten coffee cup, letting his fingers linger a little too long against Al's as he did, and put it on the railing where Al had left it earlier.

"Oh, jeez," Al breathed, helpless to say anything else as he stared into the warmest eyes in the universe. "Jeez, Sam..."

Sam reached up and cupped Al's face in his hands. "Shhh," he said, "it's okay. Honest, Al, it's okay. Everything's gonna be fine."

Al just nodded. Whatever Sam said was fine by him. Just as long as Sam never stopped touching him. His cheeks and jaw were blazing with heat at the touch of Sam's hands, heat that travelled all the way through him and warmed parts he hadn't even realized were chilled. He was breathing in sunwarmed-Sam and grease and Tide -- Sam must have just done laundry, for his shirt to smell so clean -- and he never wanted to move again.

"We haven't spent much time alone together since I got back, have we?" Sam asked, still quiet, still smiling faintly.

"We've been together," Al protested.

"Yeah -- we've been together in the control room, and at staff meetings, and at budget meetings, and in the cafeteria at lunchtime or dinnertime, and a few times at a restaurant in town. But almost never alone, just the two of us."

"I didn't think you'd noticed," Al admitted. "Things have been kinda busy lately."

"I noticed," Sam said. "Is that why you came by today? So we could be together, just us?"

Al was starting to feel like an idiot, standing there with his hands at his side while Sam's hands were still plastered to his face. What the hell. He carefully put his arms around Sam's waist, grateful to his soul when Sam instantly moved an inch or two forward to make it easier. "Yeah, I guess so," he said, finally realizing that Sam was still waiting for an answer to his question. "I know it sounds kinda stupid, but... I've missed you."

Sam's smile brightened, and he leaned his head forward to touch his forehead briefly to Al's. "I've missed you, too. It's not the same, is it? It's great being able to reach out and touch you any time I want -- dear God, I sound like that old commercial!"

Al laughed, startled, and warmed by the matching laughter from Sam. They both relaxed, Al realizing for the first time that Sam had been a bit tense earlier as well. The man was a hell of an actor -- but then, he'd had to be to survive all those years of pretending to be other people.

Sam patted both of Al's cheeks, then slid his hands around and back to link behind Al's neck. Al's face suddenly felt naked, but it was worth it to realize that they were now in a real embrace, if a loose one. He wasn't sure where this was going, but so far the journey itself had been worth the trip.

"Commercial or not, it is great to be able to just touch you whenever I want," Sam went on. "You have no idea how much I missed that, Al. I don't remember a lot of details about the leaps, but I remember that. No one ever touched me. But... while I was leaping, I was the only one who had you. Whenever you were around, only I could see you, only I could hear you -- when we were together, it was just us. I miss that part of it. A lot."

Al sniffed, hard. "I miss it too, Sam," he said, his voice a bit more gravelly than usual. "And I missed being able to touch you while you were leaping."

Sam took a deep breath. "I'm not leaping now, Al."

"No, you're not."

"And we're alone."

"Yes, we are."

"So there's nothing stopping you from touching me."

Al froze. Sam couldn't mean what he thought he meant. No way. Go careful here, Calavicci, he warned himself. "No, Sam, there's not. This is really great." He let his arms tighten slightly around Sam's back, hands splaying out across hard muscles.


"Yeah, Sam?"

"Are you always this thick, and I just never noticed before?"

"Huh?" Al drew back a bit, staring at Sam in shock. "Whaddya mean, 'thick'?!"

Sam sighed, and removed one hand from Al's neck -- the other instantly clamping firmly to hold Al in place -- to reach behind himself. He grabbed one of Al's hands and moved it down to his ass, patting it as it settled into place and then raising his hand back up to link with his other hand again. He leaned forward and brushed a kiss across Al's lips, then drew back slightly. "That's what I mean, Al," he said softly.

Al was barely breathing, trying to absorb the fact that his hand was planted on Sam's ass -- by Sam's very clear direction -- and that Sam had just kissed him. Had to be a dream. "Sam?"

"Yes, Al?"

"Did you just kiss me?"

"Yes, Al."


"Because I wanted to."


"Is it a problem?"

"No!" Al said hurriedly.

Sam grinned. "Didn't think so."

Al was debating whether to be offended by the assumption, purely for appearance's sake, when Sam clenched his ass, making it perfectly clear why he'd assumed it wasn't a problem. Al realized he was wasting a golden opportunity, and cautiously let his hand start exploring, learning the shape and feel that he'd long since memorized visually. Sam murmured wordlessly in pleasure and eased even closer to Al, pulling them into a tight embrace. Sighing at the rightness of it all, Al started sucking gently on the nearest earlobe, rewarded when Sam turned slightly to give him better access.

Al slid his other hand under Sam's t-shirt, needing to feel bare skin under his fingers. Sam was returning the favor, busily untucking Al's shirt and reaching underneath, all the while kissing and licking along Al's neck, driving Al crazy. Finally frustrated with his limited access, Al started to draw back, meaning to pull Sam's shirt clean off, when a sudden glint of sunlight off the nearby car sparked a memory. Shit. While "prude" might not exactly be the word to describe Sam, if the way he was sticking his tongue into Al's ear was any way to judge, "exhibitionist" probably wasn't the right word, either.

"Ahhh... Sammy?"


"Sam. C'mon, Sam, ease up for a min-- oh, God! Please, Sam, wait a minute." Al was shuddering with the effort not to just grab Sam and strip him naked then and there, and Sam's clever and busy tongue was not helping matters at all. Thankfully, Sam did as he was asked, and pulled away.

"What's the matter, Al?" he asked, a frown creasing his brow. "If this isn't what you want --"

"God, no, kid, I want this. You have to know I want this. But --"

"But what? You want it, I want it, we're both adults -- what's the problem?"

"Satellite security systems with cameras that can read license plates," Al said hastily.

Sam gaped.

"And a Nobel-prize-winning scientist who's considered a national treasure by anyone with a high enough clearance to know what he's done. Whose house is probably under automatic surveillance as a precaution."

Sam gaped some more, then finally closed his mouth and looked upward. "You think...?"

Al nodded. "I don't know for sure, but I wouldn't be surprised."



"That's it, then," Sam said.

Al managed to keep his cringe from being visible. Hell, at least he'd gotten kissed and touched, and had been able to kiss and touch back. He braced himself for what was coming next.

"Bed," Sam announced.

"Excuse me?" That wasn't what Sam was supposed to say.

"Bed. It's indoors. Out of direct line-of-sight. If they've got heat cameras they've already seen me jacking off in the shower, so what the hell. At least they can't get clear pictures this way."

It was Al's turn to gape now. This was his Sam? His innocent Sam? "You jack off in the shower?" he blurted out.

Sam's eyes widened. "Since I was about twelve, yeah," he managed to get out. "I'd do it in the bed but I hate having to wash the sheets all the time, and it's always messier than I think it's going to be. Good lord, Al, what do you think I am, a saint?"

Al shook his head hastily. "No, not a saint, just... I dunno what I was thinking, Sammy. Don't know why I was surprised. I know you're a man, I know you've got needs." Memories of walking in on Sam a few times when he was in the middle of meeting those needs on a leap surfaced, and Al's groin throbbed in answer. "I was just... I was expecting you to call this off, that's all. I wasn't expecting you to... well... you know... ah, c'mon, Sam, gimme a break here," he pleaded.

Sam puffed out a breathy laugh. "Poor Al," he said, hugging him again, then letting go. "I suppose it explains why you never made a move, though. Listen to me, okay? I have no intention of calling this off, and if you want to you'd better say something now." Al shook his head at the questioning look Sam sent him. "Good. Now, can we take this inside, please?"

"Inside is good," Al agreed.

Sam smiled at him, that damned sweet, shy smile that convinced everyone he was an innocent, and tucked a hand into the front of Al's pants to tug him along behind, fingers curving comfortably around the welcome they found there.

Al gasped, and followed. One or two braincells were still functioning somehow, and eventually something Sam had said floated back to the surface of his mind. "What did you mean, 'why I never made a move'?" he asked. "Sammy, how long have you known --"

"Since the day I stepped out of the Accelerator," Sam said absently. "Are you sure you want to discuss this now?" He drew Al the last few steps into the bedroom and turned, smiling, fingers tightening briefly on their prize before he let go and reached for Al's fly.

"Just one more question," Al promised. "What made you pick today?"

Sam's hands stilled and he looked up to meet Al's gaze squarely. "It was obvious that you weren't going to make a move for whatever reason, so I figured it'd be up to me. I've been waiting for my chance, actually. I, ah, overheard you telling Verbeena you were going to stay home this weekend." He flushed a bit at that, looking embarrassed. "Sorry, I wasn't eavesdropping, honest. I just heard. I was glad I did, though. I was going to head over to your place this afternoon and cook you a great dinner. Had a whole seduction scene planned. But you came over here instead," he finished with a smile, "and it seemed like too perfect an opportunity to waste."

Al spent a few seconds readjusting his worldview to include a Sam that had been planning to seduce him -- you didn't get to be Al's age, in Al's various lines of work, without being damned adaptable -- and smiled. "I'm glad you did," he murmured, reaching out to take Sam's t-shirt off at last. "I don't think I'd ever have had the nerve."

They stripped each other as fast as they could, grinning as they got in each other's way, and finally stood there, staring.

"Oh, boy," they breathed in unison. Startled, their gazes lifted until they were looking at each other. Sam broke first, laughing helplessly, with Al only a second behind.

Still chuckling, Al managed to say, "Well, I guess that answers any 'are you really sure you want this' questions."

"It certainly seems to," Sam agreed, reaching out to brush a finger along Al's very willing cock.

Al caught his breath at the touch, his eyes closing involuntarily. "Sa-am," he groaned. He opened his eyes again to find Sam watching him, fascination in his eyes.

"I can do that to you with a touch?"

"You have no idea," Al said fervently. "But I don't want this to go too fast, 'kay? Let me just..." Shaking his head, he stepped forward to wrap Sam up in his arms. Catching the hint, Sam completed the embrace, and they just stood for a few minutes. Al couldn't believe how good it felt just to have his skin touching Sam's skin all the way down, to feel Sam's chest moving against his own as he breathed, and his arms tightened until he heard Sam grunt. Smiling, he eased off, and turned his head to murmur into Sam's ear. "I've wanted to do that for the longest time." His hands were sweeping over the hard-muscled back, occasionally drifting lower to stroke Sam's ass.

"God, this feels so good," Sam whispered back. "How can this feel so good? We're not even doing anything."

Al wasn't so sure about that. Sam's hands were all over him, trailing heat and raising goosebumps at the same time, and the feel of his cock pressed against Al's was one of the most erotic things Al had ever experienced. But maybe it was time to take this a step further.

He started kissing along Sam's jaw, smiling at the faint roughness. Sam hadn't bothered shaving yet. He took his time over each kiss, learning the shape of the bone beneath the skin, but finally reached Sam's chin. He bit it lightly, then licked the wound and kissed it better, smiling as Sam whimpered. The temptation to work his way down the line of Sam's neck was almost irresistible, but first.... He reached for Sam's lips and caught him in a chaste kiss, then started licking delicately. Sam's lips parted instantly for him, and he slipped his tongue inside, moaning at finally being able to taste that mouth. The kiss was deep and thorough, each of them exploring every possible centimeter of the other. Al reached frantically for Sam's head to hold him as close as possible, vaguely noticing that Sam's hands were clutched in his hair as well. Gradually it eased into a more lazy exploration as they doublechecked territory they'd just discovered. Al sucked one more time on Sam's tongue and lightened the kiss even more, until he was nibbling on Sam's lower lip, then just placing tiny kiss after tiny kiss all over his lips.

He finally abandoned Sam's lips altogether to drop another kiss on his chin, smiling as Sam panted and threw his head back.

"God, Al."

"Yeah," Al agreed. One of his hands was still twined in Sam's hair, but the other was now stroking any bit of Sam he could reach. Sam was rubbing absently at Al's shoulders, kneading him like a cat. Al took a moment just to enjoy the sight of Sam's wanton pose, then decided to take advantage. He leaned back in and started to kiss his way down Sam's throat, stopping for a moment to suck gently on his Adam's apple before moving to the hollow at the base of his throat.

Straightening up, he gently pushed Sam back onto the bed, smiling in approval as he wriggled up the bed to make room. He followed, kneeling on the end of the bed and surveying the feast spread before him. Which end to start from...?



"You gonna let me do any of the work, here?"

Al raised his eyes to meet Sam's, and smiled. "Later, Sam," he promised. "But this time, it's all about you knowing that someone's touching you, and no one else."

Sam swallowed, his eyes going wide. "How did you --" he began, brokenly.

"How could I not know, Sam? And don't start thinking that I'm being all altruistic here, either. I'm going to enjoy this." Al licked his lips in anticipation.

"Oh, boy," Sam whispered.

Al grinned happily, and made his decision. "Roll over," he said.

Sam's eyes went huge. "Now?"

"No, no, not that. Jeez, Sam. Even I don't move that fast. Trust me, just roll over, okay?"

Sam rolled without another word, not a trace of doubt in his eyes. Al moved forward just enough, and started massaging Sam starting with his feet. He worked his way slowly upward, making sure to knead every muscle and stroke every inch of skin, right up to the top of Sam's skull. Then he worked his way back down, kissing and licking and biting gently, lavishing attention everywhere. He lingered briefly in a few spots -- behind each ear, at the nape of the neck, in the small of Sam's back, over each buttock -- but didn't stay anywhere for long, and he avoided the crease between Sam's cheeks, not wanting to arouse him too far. He kept up a running commentary on how Sam looked, and felt, and responded, on what it was doing for Al to be able to touch him and taste him. By the time he dropped a kiss on the sole of each foot, nipping the left instep for good measure, Sam was quivering from the combination of utterly relaxed muscles and sparking nerve endings.

Al leaned forward to pat Sam on the butt, making sure it wasn't hard enough to sting. "Time to roll over again, Sam," he said.

"I don't think I can," Sam replied, breathlessly. "I'm not sure I could move if my life depended on it. Jesus, Al."

Al chuckled. "I thought you'd like that," he said smugly. "And we're not done yet. I've only done half of you, remember?"

Sam moaned happily, and struggled over onto his back. Al's grin widened at the sight of the erection bobbing over Sam's stomach.

Sam, noticing his gaze, grinned back, ruefully. "Well, what did you expect?" he asked. "I was turned on before you even started."

"We aim to please," Al said cheerfully. His own erection had subsided a bit while he focused on Sam, which was just how he wanted it. "Now lay back and enjoy this."

"Your command is my wish," Sam said.

Al blinked. "Isn't that supposed to be -- never mind." He shook his head in amusement, and went back to work, massaging Sam from toe to head on this side. He avoided the cock, ignoring Sam's groan of disappointment as he bypassed it. He watched, fascinated, as his fingers caused ripples across Sam's taut stomach. "You're ticklish!"

"A little," Sam admitted easily.

"I'll be careful," Al promised, increasing the pressure of his hands until Sam could bear it. He could wait for another day to take advantage of such very useful information. He couldn't quite resist teasing Sam's nipples into hardness when he got up there, but forced himself to move on to his pecs and shoulders, then down his arms and back up to his neck. He finished off on Sam's face, delicately working the muscles there until even his forehead looked limp. Leaving one hand rubbing gentle circles on Sam's forehead, he leaned back to look at his handiwork, warmth flooding him at the sight. Sam lay boneless on the bed, only his nose, nipples, and cock breaking the plane of him. Beautiful.

Smiling, Al leaned down to kiss the tip of that proud nose, then started on the second half of this journey, kissing and licking and nibbling his way down Sam's front, running commentary back in full swing. He took longer about it this time, lingering in more places for longer periods. He was tempted to just take up residence in Sam's mouth, but finally dragged himself away to rediscover the joys of his throat, and the differences in the taste of his skin on his biceps and on the inside of his elbow. He laved each hand from wrist to the tip of each finger, then slowly sucked each finger into his mouth, swirling his tongue around so as not to miss any spots. After he'd given each finger on each hand his attention, he slid first two, then three fingers into his mouth at once, eyes closing in pure pleasure. He could hear Sam moaning his name, but was too focused on the sensation of those long, strong fingers in his mouth to pay much attention.

Finally, regretfully, he placed Sam's hand back down on the bed, kissed his wrist, and moved back to his chest, which was heaving from the force of Sam's breathing. Al glanced up and smiled into Sam's wide, wild eyes, then dropped his head and nipped sharply at the nearest nipple. Sam bucked, crying out. Al gentled him with hands and lips and tongue, until finally Sam's breathing calmed.

"Al, you're killing me," Sam croaked. "For God's sake, don't stop."

Al chuckled against the warm skin. "I won't, I promise." He sucked on the other nipple for a minute, then moved on, tasting Sam's whole torso. He delved briefly into the bellybutton, loving the way Sam shivered when he did. He dropped one kiss on the tip of Sam's cock in promise, using willpower he hadn't known he had to turn his attention to the rest of him. His litany of praise for Sam's beauty, his taste, his smell, his feel, never stopped as he worked his way down over hips and legs and knees and ankles, and he made sure that Sam never forgot what this was doing for Al, to be able to do this for Sam. He lavished almost as much attention on Sam's feet as he had on his hands, then, with one last kiss, he knelt up and just looked.

"God, but you're beautiful," he breathed. Sam was flushed and quivering all over, and his cock arched up hard over his belly, begging for attention. Al's mouth watered. He gently nudged Sam's legs apart, moving up between them to settle himself comfortably, then leaned and opened his mouth. A hand touching his face stopped him, and he glanced up, surprised.

"Al? Are you sure? You don't have to..."

"Believe me, I want to do this. I've been wanting to do this forever." Al turned back to Sam's cock, inhaling deeply as he did, loving the smell of him. Then he took the head in his mouth, and moaned. Sam was perfect -- big and hot and hard and leaking pre-come that tasted better than anything Al had ever come across before. Taking a deep breath, Al changed his angle slightly and lowered his head as far as he could, getting almost all of Sam in. He set up a steady rhythm, pulling almost all the way off and flicking his tongue against the glans before swallowing him up again. Sam's hips started pumping, and Al hastily shifted again, using one arm to hold Sam still so he wouldn't choke. He started fondling Sam's balls with his other hand, rolling and tugging them gently, then reaching back to rub his perineum briefly before returning to the balls.

Sam was chanting his name and swearing, and had one hand clenched so tight in Al's hair it hurt. Al could tell he was close, and let go of Sam's balls to grasp the base of his cock firmly. He sped up his mouth and hand's rhythm, silently urging Sam on.

"Al... Al, I'm gonna...."

Al slid his mouth to cover just the head of Sam's cock, using quick, short strokes of his hand to push Sam all the way over the edge. His mouth flooded with come as Sam arched and cried out, and Al swallowed hungrily, wanting every last drop. Finally Sam relaxed back down onto the bed, panting harshly. Al sucked gently for another minute, hand milking the final drops, then with one last lick he let the cock slip completely out of his mouth. He rested his head on Sam's thigh and looked up, smiling at the debauched look on Sam's face. "Welcome home, Sam," he said softly.

Sam glanced down and smiled back, a bit shakily. "Come here," he murmured huskily, reaching for Al. "Come up here so I can say thank you properly."

Al shifted up to lie alongside him, leaning over to kiss the waiting mouth.

"That's me, huh?" Sam asked, licking his lips thoughtfully after they broke apart.

"Mm-hmm. You taste great. I could get addicted."

Sam smiled again. "Glad to hear it. But what about you?" He reached a hand between them to stroke Al's cock, rock-hard and desperate for attention. His eyebrows flew up when he felt how hard it was, and he looked questioningly at Al, who shrugged.

"You're a hell of a turn-on, Sam. Thought I was gonna come myself for a minute there."


Al kissed him again, loving the look in his eyes.

"You wore me out, Al -- I don't know how much I can do... wait, I know. C'mere." Sam wriggled a bit until he was comfortably flat again, legs spread, and tugged at Al until he shifted on top.

Al, propped up on his hands, looked down at the smiling face and then down between their bodies. His cock was resting on Sam's groin, next to Sam's softening, damp cock. He shivered as he felt Sam's legs hook over his own, holding him steady, and then Sam's hands land on his ass, pulling him in tight. "Sam..."

"C'mon, Al. Come for me," Sam said softly, eyes glowing.

Groaning, Al started to thrust, lowering himself down to his elbows for better leverage. Sam pulled him in tight on every thrust, fingers gripping Al's ass tightly. Al groaned again when those fingers slid to his crack, pulling his cheeks apart slightly. Cool air on his anus sent a shock straight through his cock. "Oh, God, Sam, Sam."

"More?" Sam asked tightly.

"Yes, please, more!"

One finger trailed down his crack, teasing over his anus and then down further to press firmly against his perineum. It disappeared suddenly, and Al opened his eyes to see Sam wetting it. He lunged his head forward to catch the finger between his own lips, sucking it in and mixing his saliva with Sam's, holding Sam's eyes the whole time. "Please," he whispered when he let the finger go.

Sam nodded, and a moment later Al could feel the wet finger at his anus, brushing lightly over the surface and then easing in up to the first knuckle. Al gasped and thrust back onto the finger, then helplessly down again into Sam's warm, damp groin. He tried desperately to hold on, but it was too much. It only took a few short, hard thrusts to push him over, and he came yelling Sam's name. He collapsed onto the strong body beneath him, revelling in the feel of Sam's arms cradling him close.

He rolled off a few minutes later, as soon as he'd gotten his breath back, but left an arm and one leg across Sam. "That was...." he trailed off, completely incapable of describing how he felt.

"Yeah," Sam agreed.

Al raised his head far enough to see Sam smiling happily at the ceiling, and flopped back to the mattress, content.

They drowsed for a little while, cuddling close, then gradually drifted fully awake again.

"So," Sam said finally. "Whaddya wanna do today?"

Al cracked up and hugged him, hard. Sam grinned.

"I suppose we did sort of eat dessert first," Al said.

"So to speak," Sam agreed, with a cheerful leer.

Al tried for a dirty look, but had the feeling he'd missed by miles. Sam just laughed.

"We could go catch a movie," Sam suggested casually. "Or sneak in to the Project to catch up on paperwork. Or get some work done around the house. Or -- you need new shelves at your place, right? We could put shelves up. Or go to the gym and get in a good workout."

Al was proud of himself for not tensing up. Sam wasn't the only good actor here, by damn.

"Or we could hang around here and cuddle and neck all day, and I could make you that seduction dinner tonight and see if it works," Sam went on, and Al realized he hadn't stayed as non-tense as he'd thought as he collapsed against Sam's side.

"Jeez, Sam, you --"

"--Or," Sam continued, one hand stroking up and down Al's arm. "Or, we could go to your place, pack up your stuff, and move you in here."

Al sat up and stared down at him. "Are you serious?"

"If you want me to be."

"Oh, God, I want you to be."

"Then I'm serious."

Al kissed him, hard, then sat back up again. "Tell you what. Have you got a spare toothbrush around here?" He waited for Sam to nod. "Okay, so I'm moved in. Why don't we hang around and cuddle and neck today, and you can seduce me tonight, and we'll cuddle and neck tomorrow, and I'll seduce you tomorrow night, and we'll move the rest of my stuff in next weekend. How's that sound?"

"That," Sam said with a slow smile, "sounds absolutely perfect."


And other than a few minor mishaps like Sam's seduction dinner burning to a crisp because he was too busy seducing a willing Al to remember to turn the oven off, it had been perfect, Al mused on Monday. Who'd'a thunk it three days ago, that he'd be sitting in the cafeteria today wishing for a softer chair and smiling at the ache anyway, because the memories it raised were so sweet. He glanced across the table to find the same smile on Sam's face, and dug in contentedly to his meal.

"Hi, you two."

He looked up, startled. "Verbeena! Hi, how ya doing?"

"Fine, thanks, Al. Mind if I join you?"

"Please," Sam said, gesturing at an empty chair.

"Thanks. Well, you two both look better than you did last week," she said frankly, glancing from one to the other.

Al looked at Sam and grinned. "Feel better, too. You were right, Beena. This weekend was just what the doctor ordered."

Sam, his mouth full, just nodded.

"Good, I'm glad to hear it. So what'd you do?"

Al choked on his mashed potatoes.

Sam instantly charged to his rescue. "Just what you said to."

Damn, Sam, you're not helping, Al thought ruefully as another mouthful went down the wrong way. Sam grinned at him, obviously knowing what Al was thinking.

"You know, hung out around the house, just puttered around -- spent a lot of time in bed," Sam said easily, that damned innocent smile of his on his face.

"Good!" Verbeena said. "You have to do that more often, Sam -- you work too hard, you're going to run yourself completely ragged one of these days."

"Yes, ma'am," Sam said meekly. "I'll get in as many weekends like that as possible."

Al was sure he was puce at this point. He'd given up completely on trying to eat or drink anything.

"How about you, Al? What did you do? And are you all right? Do you want a glass of water?"

"No, thanks, Beena, I'm fine," Al managed to say. "I had the same sort of weekend as Sam, really -- just kicked around the house, slept in, stuff like that."

"Hmm. Somehow I doubt your weekend was *just* like Sam's," Verbeena said dryly. "But whatever you did worked. You have to take it a bit easier too, you know."

"I will, honest," Al said, hoping like hell she'd drop it. He didn't think he could take any more of this without disgracing himself by falling out of his chair laughing. How the hell was Sam keeping such a straight face?

Thankfully, Verbeena turned the conversation to more general subjects, and the rest of their lunch break passed without incident. She got up to leave when she finished, waving a cheerful goodbye. As soon as she'd left the room, Al threw a roll he'd been saving for the purpose at Sam, who fielded it deftly.

"Bastard," Al said feelingly, finally letting a chuckle escape. "You coulda killed me there, you know!"

"Nah, it's okay. I know the Heimlich maneuver," Sam said, grinning. "You'd've been fine."

Al was tempted to stick his tongue out at him, but decided that it wouldn't do for the two of them to be seen behaving like children in front of any other staff. He sobered after a minute, running a finger around the rim of his glass. "We're gonna have to tell her, you know, Sam," he said quietly, glancing up to gauge Sam's reaction.

"I know," Sam agreed calmly. "We're gonna have to tell a bunch of people, although I'd like to keep it to as few as possible for right now. What do you say to telling Verbeena on Wednesday, and Williams on Friday, before you move in? He'll have to know."

Al nodded, although he wasn't looking forward to telling the security chief.

"What about Ziggy?"

"She already knows," Sam said, surprised.

"Of course, what was I thinking," Al sighed. Sometimes he forgot that he didn't have a shred of privacy any more.

"Hey, it's okay -- she's happy for us." Sam reached across to squeeze Al's wrist comfortingly.

"Yeah? What makes you so sure?"

"You weren't locked out of the Project this morning," Sam said with a grin.

Al stared, then laughed. "Good point. Thanks, Zig," he added softly.

"My pleasure, Admiral," Ziggy said from his wrist unit, just loud enough for the two of them to hear.

"So who do we tell besides Beeks and Williams?" Al asked.

"My family," Sam said instantly.

"Tonight," Al agreed, and basked in the brilliant smile turned his way.

"I figure we can let other people figure it out -- answer if they ask, but don't make a big deal out of it."

"Works for me," Al said. "You gonna finish those fries?"

Sam pushed them over, and Al let his fingers linger over Sam's briefly. "I love you, Sam Beckett," he said quietly. "I won't always remember to say it, but I love you forever."

"Love you too, Al. Always." Sam withdrew his hand, sneaking one last fry away as he did. "Share and share alike," he added, clearly trying to lighten the mood before they didn't have to worry about telling anyone anything because the whole Project would already know.

Al went along, brightening as he thought of something. "Does that include your stereo?" He'd been lusting after Sam's stereo for weeks, since the moment Sam had brought it home in one of his few post-leap splurges.

"C'mon, Al, I already gave you my fries!" Sam said, his outraged tone not helped any by the laughter he couldn't quite control.

"Share and share alike, you said," Al replied, a wounded look on his face.

They spent the next five minutes squabbling over just what exactly that meant, each knowing all the while he'd give the other the whole damn world if that's what he wanted. Still arguing amiably, they cleared the table and headed out to face the afternoon's round of meetings and paperwork.

"Hold that thought a second, Al," Sam said as they entered the hallway. "Ziggy?"

"Two doors down on the right, Dr. Beckett," Ziggy said.

"Thanks, Ziggy."

Sam walked to the right door and tugged Al inside the room with him, and Al suddenly found himself with his back against the wall and his front being smothered by Sam. Not a bad situation to be in, when you got right down to it. His arms looped around Sam as he waited to see what this was about.

"Just wanted one last moment of privacy before we got stuck in meetings all day," Sam said, leaning in to nuzzle Al's neck.

"Privacy is good," Al agreed. He caught Sam's face between his hands and kissed him delicately, trying hard to remember that they couldn't go in to the budget meeting looking like they'd just been making out. "Love you."

"Love you too." Sam took a deep breath. "Okay, you ready?"

"As I'll ever be."


"The coast is clear, Dr. Beckett."

"'The coast is clear'??" Al asked, incredulous.

Sam grinned. "Don't knock it. C'mon."

They slipped back out into the corridor and headed for the conference room, heads held high and each with his hands firmly clasped behind his back to avoid temptation.

As soon as they were far enough down the corridor not to arouse suspicion, Ziggy unlatched the cafeteria doors, letting the three people who'd been trying to get out leave. They never did figure out what the giggling coming out of the speakers was about.

~ fin ~

(with apologies for the vague car-fixing details at the beginning; I don't know a bloody thing about cars other than that my mechanics are dolls whom I treasure deeply <g>)

Feedback of any sort, from one line to detailed crit, is always welcome, at arduinna at trickster dot org.


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