Title: Acceptable Risk
By: Caroline Crane
Pairing: Sam/Joe
Rating: NC-17
A/N: This is another one of those pairings that maybe two people are even going to recognize, and probably only one other person has ever thought about. In fact, this whole idea belongs to oh_mumble, but since she doesn't write pr0n I am writing it for her. Because I like to make people happy. It's a sickness.

So. It's Miami fic, but there's no Speed or Tyler or even Calleigh in sight. There is a mention of Delko, but other than that it's all about my new Sekrit OTP, Sam/Joe. Sam is the gorgeous Chilean lab tech who flirts with...well, everyone and Joe is the sadly neglected lab tech who discovered Tripp's print on the dead girl's room key in "Bait" and got yelled at for it by Delko even though Delko should know better than to kill the messenger.

Joe's a bit of a masochist, apparently, as he a) has a crush on the very obviously straight Delko, and b) continues to crush on him even after Delko snipes at him about the fingerprint thing. And Sam...well, I'm not entirely sure he's got a crush on anybody, but he probably wouldn't kick Speed or Calleigh out of bed.
Summary: Joe just can't seem to say no.

***

If this was a movie it would be pouring when he opened the door, and Sam would be standing there, water dripping off his hair and down onto golden skin. His shirt would be stuck to him, and everybody in the audience would want to peel it off.

But it's not a movie, and it's not raining. It's still hot, but the sun's been down for awhile and the weather's settling into a typical Miami evening. Sam's standing in his doorway, one hand braced against the frame and Joe wants to close the door – knows he should close the door – but instead he just stands there and stares.

"Aren't you going to invite me in?"

That's the thing he hates most about all this, that little smirk and the fact that Sam thinks it's all some big joke. Nothing about this situation was ever funny – pathetic, yes, and definitely hot, but it's never been funny. Sam's still smirking, though, and Joe scowls and moves to block Sam from pushing his way into the apartment.

"What are you doing here?"

"Let me in and I'll tell you."

And he's desperate, but he's not stupid, so he knows if he lets Sam in there won't be any talking. They've done this before, after all, and every time he tells himself it's the last time. The last time he's going to let Sam use him, and the last time he's going to use Sam right back. It's not like he was so lonely before they started this thing, at least not any more than he is now. Because they're not dating – they've never even spent the night in the same bed.

It's just sex, only lately he's been wondering if it's starting to be more than that. And that's a dangerous question, so the safest thing to do would be to shut the door and pretend Sam didn't show up on his doorstep tonight. Only Sam's standing right there, warm and solid and God, he smells good, and before he can stop himself Joe's moving backwards, letting Sam brush past him into his living room.

This is the part where he asks again what Sam's doing at his place at ten o'clock on a work night, but before he gets the words out Sam's hands are on him, pulling him forward and then he's breathing in that scent from way too close up. And he can't even remember what he was going to say, not when those hands are pushing up under his shirt and that mouth is hovering just above his, just breathing like he's waiting for Joe to make the next move.

Joe's hands flatten against Sam's chest to push him backwards, to a safe distance just so he can think for a second. Only his hands have other ideas, and before he can stop himself his fingers are curling around Sam's shirt, tugging him forward those last few centimeters and breathing in soap and cologne and Sam.

He thinks vaguely that he shouldn't know how Sam smells, that he shouldn't be so used to the way Sam's mouth feels against his. They've only done this a few times, but he remembers every single one as vividly as if it just happened a few minutes ago. There was the first time – in Sam's car, of all places – when they stumbled out of that club together, and even though he was a little drunk he still remembers every kiss, every touch and every sound.

After that it was up against the wall in Sam's place, and he was stupid to go over there but Sam seemed pretty glad to see him. And this was getting way out of hand, because they worked together and they were taking stupid risks, like that time in the bathroom when Horatio and the others were out on a case. This wasn't worth risking his job, but at the time it had felt like it was worth the risk. Worth any risk at all, as long as Sam keeps touching him the way he is right now.

Only those kinds of thoughts are dangerous, because this isn't a relationship. This isn't…anything, because they don't talk about it and that means it might as well not even be happening. But it feels like something – it feels like Sam's hands on him and Sam's mouth working its way down his neck as they stumble backwards toward the couch, Sam's voice murmuring something in Spanish and Joe really wishes he'd paid more attention to his Spanish teacher in high school.

He wants to ask what they're doing, if this is going somewhere or if they're still just killing time. But that's too much like asking for some kind of commitment, so he swallows the words and lets Sam push him back onto the couch. His legs are splayed, cock pressing hard against the seam of his jeans and when expert fingers slide his zipper down he groans and pulls Sam up for another kiss.

And he knows he'll remember this – picture it later when he's alone – Sam on his knees in front of Joe, one hand on his thigh and the other pushing his jeans open, thumb tracing his cock through his underwear and his tongue thrusting in and out of Joe's mouth. He lifts his hips when Sam tugs at his jeans, struggling out of too-tight denim until his pants are down around his ankles, spreading his legs as wide as they'll go. Sam's hands push his shirt up his stomach, mouth leaving Joe's to grin before he leans down to mouth Joe's cock through his underwear.

When he finally pulls back again the cotton's soaked and clinging to his skin, and he tugs his shirt over his head as Sam's hand slides inside to close around his cock. He slides his hand into Sam's hair, wishing just for a second that it was still long enough to wrap around his fingers. Then Sam's mouth closes around his cock again and he forgets about Sam's hair, about everything except hot and wet and right…there, and he moans when Sam's fingers push between his legs to press hard against the taut skin behind his balls.

His legs are splayed as wide as he can get them, hips thrusting up into Sam's mouth and he knows he's going to come too soon. Any second now he's going to lose control and then it will be over, for good this time because every touch makes him want Sam a little more. More and more, and he knows he can't keep wanting this or the next time he might say something he can't take back.

Only he couldn't even tell Sam no when he showed up at Joe's door, so he's not sure how he's going to say no the next time Sam shows up. Or maybe he won't show up at all – maybe he'll let Joe come to him, and when that doesn't happen he'll find somebody else to occupy his time. Because Sam could have anybody he wants, all he has to do is ask in that voice of his and no one would be able to turn him down, not even a guy as straight as Delko.

The thought makes Joe tense, and he swallows against an irrational surge of jealousy and tightens his grip on Sam's hair, tugging hard enough to get his attention. Sam takes the hint immediately, mouth finding Joe's again and his fingers wrapping around Joe's cock, stroking once, then again and swallowing Joe's moan as he comes in Sam's hand.

He can't catch his breath, but he doesn't care if he never breathes again because Sam's still kissing him, mouth moving slowly now and Joe can almost believe this does mean something when Sam kisses him like that. Only he knows better, and when Sam pulls away Joe realizes that he's still wearing all his clothes. He watches Sam stand up, smirk firmly in place as he tugs his shirt over his head and drops it on the couch next to Joe. Like his own private striptease, and Joe forgets to be self-conscious as Sam unbuttons his pants and pushes them down over his hips.

"Why don't you show me your bedroom," Sam says, smiling as he kicks his shoes off and Joe wants to wipe that grin off his face. Or maybe just kiss it away – he can't decide, but a few seconds later Sam's reaching for his hand and pulling him to his feet and it doesn't matter anymore.

Somehow he manages to steer them in the right direction, hands everywhere to tug the rest of their clothes off and by the time they reach his bed Sam's naked and hard and…beautiful. He doesn't think he says it out loud, but he flushes anyway and he's glad for dark skin that hides his reaction to seeing Sam stretched out on his sheets for the first time. The first and last time, he reminds himself fiercely, pushing and pushing until Sam rolls onto his stomach, arms tucked under his head and Joe's kneeling between his legs, running his hands over muscular thighs.

This is the part he'll miss the most – warm skin under his fingers, contented murmurs muffled by the pillow, and when he slides his hands up further Sam just…opens for him. And Joe's never been self-conscious, but he's never met anybody as confident as Sam. He's perfect, from his fuck-me smile to the graceful way he moves to the way he manages to get what he wants without ever asking for anything.

Sometimes Joe wishes he would ask, just so he'd know that Sam wants…something, that he wants something from Joe. He wants to hear Sam moan his name, but when he does talk it's always in Spanish and one of these days Joe might even work up the courage to ask him what he's saying. Only this is the last time, the last time he'll hear Sam murmuring in a language Joe barely understands as fingers press inside him, pushing back into the pressure until they're both panting with the effort.

Joe's cock twitches at the sight, and he pulls away long enough to fumble for a condom. By the time he climbs back onto the mattress Sam's knees are pulled up under him, one hand working his cock almost lazily and Joe bites back a moan as he rolls the condom down and kneels between Sam's legs. A second later he's pushing inside, taking his time because this is definitely the last time and he's going to remember every second.

When he's all the way in he pauses, focusing on the sound of Sam's harsh breathing and the pulsing of tight heat around him. Sam's hand is still moving on his own cock, and Joe closes his eyes and pulls out, pausing just for a second before he thrusts back in. That earns him a broken moan and Sam tightening even more around him, trying to pull him even deeper. He angles his hips just a little, seeking that spot that makes Sam babble something about God and mercy that Joe can never quite catch.

He laughs anyway, breathless and amused and just for a second he forgets that this is the last time, that it doesn't mean anything and they're not going to fall asleep together in a sweaty, boneless heap. He's not even sure when he started wanting that, but the image makes him move a little faster, gripping Sam's hips not to pull him back into each thrust. They're both fighting for breath and he can tell how close Sam is, can feel it in the way he presses back against Joe. He twists his head to look over his shoulder, hissing something between his teeth that Joe's positive isn't English.

"What?"

"Harder," Sam says again, in English this time and Joe nods once and does what he's told. He's breathing hard, sweat running down his neck and stinging his eyes and he's going to need a shower, but he's positive he's not even going to be able to stand up ever again. It will be worth it, though, because Sam's pushing back hard against him and stroking his own cock roughly, eyes shut tight and muscles straining with the effort and when he comes he tightens hard around Joe, dragging a moan out of him as he thrusts as deep as he can and comes for the second time.

They collapse onto the mattress together, Sam's back slick under his chest and it takes every ounce of energy left in him to pull out and take the condom off. He pushes himself up on one elbow to drop it in the trash, and when he turns back to Sam he can't resist leaning in to press a soft kiss against his shoulder. And that's another thing he's going to miss, because this is definitely the last time he's going to see those perfect shoulders and that smooth smooth back, and it's the last time he's going to run his hand down Sam's spine, past his hips and over a perfect ass.

He can't resist pushing a finger inside, earning him a low moan and Sam shifts on the mattress to pull Joe toward him. This is the part where Sam gets up, mumbles something about a shower and then pretends to believe Joe's asleep while he pulls his clothes back on and goes home. Joe's done it often enough, after all, but so far Sam's not getting up, and when he fuses their lips together again Joe gets the feeling he's not planning to.

By the time Sam lets him up for air Joe's flat on his back, and he's not sure when that happened but he's not going to complain while Sam's got him pinned to the mattress. And he's still smirking, but for once it doesn't make Joe want to hit him. Mostly he just wants to kiss Sam again, to keep kissing him until they both forget that they're not supposed to like each other.

"Nice place," Sam says, his grin weirdly distorted from this close up and it takes Joe a few seconds to realize this is the first time Sam's been in his apartment.

"How'd you know where I live?"

Sam laughs at that, low and musical and God, Joe's in way over his head. "It's amazing what the girls at work will tell you if you ask nicely."

He knows his confusion is showing when Sam laughs again and leans in, pressing a placating kiss to the corner of Joe's mouth. "The one with the ridiculous hair looked up your address for me in her computer."

Joe's not sure whether he should be laughing at Sam's description of the girl in the HR office or worrying that Sam mentioned him to somebody at work. He's not really worried about what anybody at work thinks about his personal life, but if people start talking it could complicate things. And he's not positive, but he's starting to think maybe there is something to complicate after all. He thinks he should probably ask, but Sam's kissing him again and he decides that's a conversation that can wait until later.