WARNING: Smut ahead!
After escaping quickly and quietly from the office, where Hetty had offered (with kind intentions, no doubt) to douse Sam’s itching posterior in calamine lotion, the Los Angeles office’s dynamic duo went to Sam’s apartment. Although G had moved into his new house, he rarely had any food in the refrigerator, and Sam was just as happy to cook for two. Tonight he was forced to make frequent pauses in his culinary efforts to scratch his rear against a corner of the counter, and grumbled about it every time, but his partner knew that despite all that, Sam was really in a good mood.
“You want me to scratch that for you?” G offered, deadpan.
“No, thank you,” Sam replied with formal civility. “I would rather you’d warned me before I sat in that patch of poison oak! I mean, what sort of partner doesn’t warn a guy that he’s sittin’ his bare ass in poison oak?”
“The kind of partner that would rather let a guy get his ass all itchy just so he could make it all better for him,” G answered with perfect aplomb, coming up behind Sam to slip his arms around the bigger man’s waist, currently covered in an apron. “Besides, it was too late by the time I noticed — you had to go so bad that when I turned around, you were already behind that tree. By the way, you didn’t use the leaves around there to wipe, did you?”
“No, I had some tissues in my pocket. And I couldn’t help it! I hadn’t gone to the bathroom all day.”
“I know. You were pretty intense about finding that girl… like a bloodhound on a scent!”
“I’m just glad we found her in time…”
“Yeah… me, too.”
“So, how exactly are you planning on ‘making it all better’?” Sam demanded, a wry smile curling the corners of his mouth.
“You’ll find out soon enough, my itchy-tushy friend,” G intoned, backing up and giving Sam’s butt a hard slap — which left it stinging, but distracted him from the itching for a moment.
“All right, but you have to earn your dinner tonight,” Sam said, and shoved a mixing bowl at G with boiled potatoes and milk. “Mash!”
“Don’t you mean ‘mush’? Like you’re a slave driver or something?”
“Just do it, all right? I’ve gotta get the sauce ready…”
Sam pulled out a saucepan and melted butter in it along with some crushed garlic cloves and rosemary leaves. He put half of that into the potatoes G was mashing, then poured the rest (sans herbs) over the chicken he was frying in a skillet.
“You do realize that garlic gives me gas, right? Like, seriously stinky gas?” G checked.
“Yeah. But I figure it’ll give me enough ammunition to retaliate. Besides, the recipe calls for it,” Sam replied, moving on to make another sauce, this time with whiskey, honey, and fresh-squeezed lemon juice. He scraped some lemon zest off of the rinds to throw over the chicken, pulled out the green beans he had steamed in the microwave, and set the table.
“Delicious, as always. My compliments to the chef!” G smiled after his first bite, raising his glass of chablis.
“Thanks. I hope Amanda’s enjoying dinner with her dad just as much.”
“I’m sure she is.”
They ate in companionable silence for the rest of the meal, both of them ravenously hungry after a hard day’s work.
“So, about that plan…” Sam began as soon as he’d finished washing the pots and pans. G had loaded the dishwasher and washed off the dining table, and was just coming back from drying it with a towel – which, of course, he used to swat at Sam’s rear.
“What plan?” he teased, pretending to have forgotten.
“The plan where you make my itchy butt all better!”
“Oh, that plan!” He nodded, as though remembering. “Well, it involves a very complicated chemical reaction… Do you have baking soda and vinegar?”
Sam rolled his eyes. “You know I do. You know even better than I do where the vinegar is, since you re-organized my cupboard last time you were here!”
“It is more efficient, isn’t it?” he said blandly while he grabbed the bottle. Sam met him with the box of baking soda, which G quickly mixed into a paste in a small cereal bowl. “All right, time to get dirty, big guy! Let’s get your ass in the bedroom.”
“I thought you’d never ask!” Sam grinned, ambling down the hall expectantly.
“Drop your drawers!” G ordered, to which he happily complied, shedding the rest of his clothing as well. “Assume the position! Hands on the bed, now, and spread your feet! I don’t want any trouble from you, buddy!”
Sam chuckled at his partner’s gruff “bad cop” act and bent over to let G slather the soothing paste onto his red, irritated skin. His muscular buttocks noticeably relaxed as the salve was applied.
“Ahhh! That’s better,” he sighed in gratitude.
“Stay put for a moment while it dries, all right? I gotta wash my hands clean, then we’ll work on the ‘all better’ part of the plan.”
“I can’t wait,” Sam murmured contentedly.
G took some time in the bathroom, and left the exhaust fan on when he came out.
“I wouldn’t go in there for a while if I were you,” he warned, spreading a towel on the bed and draping it over the edge.
“The garlic couldn’t’ve affected you that fast,” Sam countered, still leaning on the bed with his rear in the air, eyeing G’s preparations.
“What can I say? I have a delicate system,” G told him while placing something else on top of the towel.
“Hey, is that my back scrubber?” Sam asked, startled to see his long, handled shower tool.
“Yeah. This is the part that’s gonna make it all better,” G grinned. “All right, saddle up! Get your ass situated on it.”
“But G, how’re you gonna…”
Sam’s question died on his lips as his partner disappeared down the hall. When he came back, he was holding up a box of plastic wrap in answer.
“We’re gonna put a condom on your ass,” he explained, ripping off a large sheet. “Legs up! Let’s see those abs working!”
When Sam obediently raised and spread his legs, catching them by the knees in both arms, G put the plastic wrap over the bottom of his bottom. Then he poked a hole in the plastic, right over Sam’s rear entrance, and pushed his finger inside. Sam grunted, but not in pain.
“We’ll do one more sheet just to be safe,” G said. “As much as I love you, I’d rather not get Essence of Poison Oak all over my balls.”
“And here I thought you’d do anything for me,” Sam shot back, although he couldn’t manage to keep his tone as dry as usual. The next moment he felt two of G’s fingers inside of him, covered in lotion.
“Hey, I’ve doctored your itchy bottom and figured out a way to fuck you even when you’re contaminated! What more do you want?”
“How ’bout ‘service with a smile’?”
“Oh, I’ll service you, all right!” G threatened, removing his fingers to add more lotion. “But you’ll be the one smiling!”
“Less talk, more fuck!” Sam begged, his thick manhood already stiffening in anticipation.
G couldn’t help snorting in amusement, and soon pulled out his own saluting manhood and greased it with the lotion.
He pushed it in, both of them focused on the point of their union. Once the bulbous tip had squeezed through the bottleneck, the rest of it slid in easily, fitting like a hand in a well-oiled glove. G began moving back and forth, stroking that sensitive area inside of Sam — appropriately named the “G-spot” — over and over.
“Mmm…” Sam moaned every time his partner pressed his button.
“Yeah, that’s good…” G breathed, now leaning over Sam with his hands on either side of him on the bed. The plastic wrap was quickly pressed against Sam’s skin, with only a thin layer of the vinegar-and-baking-soda paste in between.
“Oh… G…” Sam gasped, “this is… just right! Every time you move… the scrubber… scratches my ass!”
“So is it… all better now?” G panted.
“Well… that part is,” Sam replied with a sultry smile. His hands were playing with the large male organ trapped between their two bodies.
“It’s never enough for you, is it?” G accused mildly, pulling back only to slam hard and deep into his partner’s welcoming body. He repeated it several times, making Sam arch his back in wanton desire, then ground his hips against Sam’s plastic-covered butt in a circular motion, driving the bigger man wild.
“Ah! Ah! Ah!” Sam cried, his voice nearly an octave higher than normal.
“You like that? Hm?” G grinned, enjoying the sight of his partner in ecstasy.
Suddenly his movements became frantic, and as Sam continued to mewl and writhe, G’s compact body seemed to take on a mind of its own, jiggling his manhood inside of Sam’s tight tunnel as if it were having a seizure. Then he thrust it in as far as it would go, shoving again and again as though somehow it could go in even further, and G’s usually calm and cool expression was replaced by that of sheer lust and passion.
“Mmm! Ngh! Nghhh!” he groaned at last, releasing all his pent-up desire inside of Sam.
“Oh, yeah…” Sam murmured, feeling the lava-hot fluid filling him up. His hands were working feverishly to release his own juices, and a minute later the milky white substance was shooting out of his manhood, covering his stomach and chest with ropy strands. “Yeah…!” he sighed, completely satisfied.
“All better now?” G asked, with a twinkle in his tired eyes.
“All better,” Sam smiled, lowering his legs to wrap them around his partner’s waist.
Sam slept soundly that night, and although G woke up several times, he restrained himself from getting out of bed, knowing that it would wake his partner up. Instead, he pondered over what Sam had finally told him during the day — about his horrifying experience in Bosnia — and hugged the larger man tighter. The plastic wrap was the only thing between them, now that they had no secrets from each other.