FANDOM: Life on Mars
SUMMARY: Sam is hired by a businessman to help in tough negotiations.
RATING: Brown Cortina for sex. Sam/OMC.
WORD COUNT: 2,189 words
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Part of the Hookerverse, one of the "deleted scenes". We weren't quite sure if "Sam on top" was a direction we wanted to go in! It can also be seen as one of the "Sam's jobs" fics, of which Game of Two Halves and Family Value are part. As 1973flashfic is still in Amnesty (just), this was written for the Cliché Challenge.
DISCLAIMER: Life on Mars is copyright Kudos and the BBC. All Rights Reserved. No copyright infringement is intended and no money is being made.
This job was turning out to be decidedly different from Sam's normal work, he decided. Not that he wasn't grateful, mind, but it did seem a little odd.
For a start it was rather last minute. The assignment had been handed to him just that morning with apologies from Jack – something that had been in the pipeline for a few months, but not fixed until now.
Another was the attire. Nothing like the clubbing gear he wore on dates with Sean, or the casual jeans with Ben. Nor the penguin suit he had to escort Mrs Phelps to the theatre or musical evenings, not even the semi-uniform he wore for the football matches with Charlie. No, this was a sharp business suit. Not quite what he had worn back in the old days before, but definitely more stylish than the usual 70s business fashion. Sure, the shirt was a little tight and the trousers were as well, but it had been delivered along with the instructions about time and place.
That was a little different as well. No seedy out-of-town hotels, or even an expensive but out-of-the-way private members' club. No, he had presented himself at half-past eleven at the door of one of the more luxurious rooms at the Midland Hotel, right in the city centre. It was proving to be a bit of an eye-opener. Even as a policeman, Sam had kept somewhat to the fringes of society. Now he was seeing how the other half lived.
His client was a businessman. That much was obvious. High-end as well, for the era. Philip Simons had spent the first twenty minutes of the meeting on the telephone to someone called "Kenneth" or "Bloody Stupid Idiot" depending on Philip's tone of voice at the time. Sam had sat quietly in a rather uncomfortable chair, waiting politely.
Finally the call ended – with one last "bloody idiot" – and Philip put down the phone.
He turned to Sam with an apologetic smile. "Sorry about that. You know what it's like – get away from the office for a single day and it all goes to pot. Um...?" he held out his hand and Sam stood, shaking it.
"Nice to meet you, Sam. Call me Phil." Philip looked him up and down for a moment. "Well, it looks like Sheila did a good enough job of your suit. Not bad at all. I, er, I assume you would like to know your duties for today?"
Sam nodded, "That would be nice, yes."
Philip nodded back. "Well. Erm, that is..."
He was interrupted by a loud knock at the door and he glanced at his watch. "Oh hell, he's early. Look, just serve coffee and take notes. You're going to have to wing it."
An hour later, Sam was bored. The meeting seemed to be negotiations for some kind of financing, but the terminology quickly escaped him. Sam had served coffee to Philip and his guest, quite obviously an American, and retired to one side, taking notes automatically, his copper training from so long ago kicking in.
A brief lull in the conversation made him look up at both men who were staring at each other and Sam mentally rewound the conversation he had only half-listened to in order to work out what was going on.
Bill, the other man, seemed reluctant to sign. The money wasn't right or something. Philip murmured something that Sam, sitting slightly further back, did not catch and Bill's gaze snapped to him, assessing.
Sam immediately sat up in his chair and plastered a winning smile on his face. He'd seen gazes like that before and he finally realised why he had been hired today. Showtime.
Bill smiled back, almost unwillingly, as he was taken in by Sam's carefully cultivated force of personality.
Philip clapped his hands together. "Well, gentlemen, I believe that I require a break. I'll, um, let you two discuss amongst yourselves. I won't be long."
He got up, but as he passed Sam, he hissed, "call down to reception when you're, er, done, won't you?"
Sam nodded, opening the door for Philip and the other man patted his arm. "Good luck!" he whispered, and left the room.
Sam closed and locked the door, suddenly feeling very nervous, but Bill looked even more nervous than Sam felt, already pale and sweating. Sam tried for a confidence he didn't feel.
"Well, Bill, what would you like to discuss?"
Bill gulped audibly. "Should we wait until Mr. Simons gets back?"
Sam unbuttoned his jacket, slipping it down his arms. "Well, we could, but I am fully authorised to negotiate on his behalf. And I feel that you might like my technique better."
Bill's eyes widened as Sam unknotted his tie and pulled it slowly from around his neck. He licked his lips and nodded.
"Good. Now, I believe, you were rather worried about the financial projections? Shall we take a closer look at them?"
Bill nodded again. "It's the long-term viability of the project that I'm most interested in."
Sam gestured to the table and Bill sat down as Sam leaned over him, hand on his shoulder and pressing in close. Bill stiffened in shock for a moment and then all but melted against Sam, his body warm and flushed.
Sam pointed to one page of the dossier that Philip had left. "Well, as you can see from these projections, the growth rate is predicted to be substantial."
"But only in the long term. What about short-term yields?"
Sam reduced his voice to a low purr and whispered in Bill's ear, "Well, you know what they say – you have to speculate to accumulate."
Bill turned his head, his eyes wide and pupils dilated. "I've heard that," he whispered back. "And then there's clause eleven. I'm not sure I'm happy where it is."
Sam trailed a finger down from the nape of Bill's neck round and down under his shirt collar. "Well, I'm sure I'm happy for you to insert it where ever you like."
"I was hoping that it would be you doing the inserting," Bill blushed.
Sam stilled. He wasn't expecting that. Then he smiled. It was yet another job, that was all. "Why, certainly we can manage that." He put a hand on Bill's shoulder. "Stay there a moment, I'll be right back."
Sam crossed to the chair where he had left his jacket, feeling for the small tube of lubricant and condom packet that he always carried with him. Finding them, he quickly slipped them in to the pocket of his trousers and walked back to the table. "Now, where were we?" he said, leaning in close.
Bill turned his head, his lips brushing Sam's, and both men froze. Sam rarely kissed his clients, the act seeming far too girly for the majority of them to consider trying. Which Sam tended to think was a shame. It was such a simple act, but one that tended to carry so many connotations.
Then Bill parted his lips with a sigh and Sam pressed home his advantage flicking his tongue against Bill's lips and teeth, licking the soft flesh and nibbling gently with his teeth.
Bill pulled away first. "I don't usually," he said, still whispering.
Sam smiled, sympathetically. "To tell you the truth, I don't usually either." He ran a hand down Bill's chest, resting for a moment at his belt before drifting lower. Bill was already hard and Sam caressed the cloth-clad crotch before unbuckling Bill's belt and slipping his hand inside to pull out his cock.
Bill hissed as skin met skin and automatically spread his legs wider. Sam dropped to his knees and took Bill's cock in his mouth.
Sam prided himself on his multi-tasking skills, though he wasn't so sure about the idea that he was so used to performing fellatio that he could do it automatically. Yet he was still able to pull Bill's trousers and underpants down as Bill thrust up to meet Sam's downstrokes, Sam taking it all in as he pulled on Bill's hips to move him closer to the edge of the chair. Sam slicked up his fingers and started to prepare Bill as he teased his cock and balls with his tongue.
Bill's breathing was shallow and fast as Sam breached his opening with a slick finger, his hands flexing as he tried not to hang on to Sam's head, resisting the temptation to take over.
As Sam inserted a second finger, Bill lost the battle and wrapped his fingers in to the soft hair. He pulled slightly and Sam glanced up with a frown.
"Not yet," Bill panted. "I don't want to… not like this."
Sam withdrew both mouth and fingers, standing up in one fluid move. Bill followed him, shakily, shrugging his trousers down his legs to pool at his ankles and bracing himself on the small conference table.
Sam resumed his preparations, running his lips and tongue over Bill's sweat-slick skin and tugging at his own cock, attempting to get it hard enough to do what was necessary.
Finally deciding that both of them were ready, Sam withdrew his fingers and positioned himself behind Bill, wrapping his hands over Bill's hips, steadying him as he slowly pushed inside. Bill gasped and Sam stilled, overcoming the urge to push in deep and waited for Bill to adjust to his intrusion.
Finally, Bill, breathing deep, relaxed and pushed his hips back in invitation and Sam thrust all the way in. Again he stilled as a bead of sweat dripped from Bill's flushed forehead to smudge the typing on the dossier, still spread open on the table below him.
"You drive a hard bargain, Sam," he said as Sam began to thrust in and out, gently at first, but speeding up as movement became easier.
Sam changed angle and began to thrust deeper. "Oh, I can be as hard as you like."
Bill gasped loudly as Sam finally hit the right angle and Sam wrapped his hand around Bill's cock, pulling and tugging in time to his thrusts.
Bill pushed back, using the table for leverage, his moans sounding loud in the small room. He was close, Sam could feel it and he stilled for a moment, bending over Bill and whispering in his ear. "So, Bill, are you ready to sign?"
Bill groaned at the cessation of movement. "I'm sorry, Sam. I'm still not sure if this technology is worth investing in."
Sam nodded and ran his tongue over Bill's ear. "Trust me on this, Bill. I know quite a bit about the microchip business. The returns look conservative at the moment, but give it five years and the leaps in technology will most definitely give you a very healthy return."
"Are you sure?"
"Absolutely positive. It'll be beyond your wildest dreams. Just trust me on this."
"Well, some of my dreams are pretty wild, Sam. But, all right. Let's see what happens."
Sam resumed, pounding into the man beneath him until Bill came with a cry, spilling into Sam's hand. Sam continued a few more seconds, finally, silently pulsing into the sagging body underneath. He pulled out almost immediately, leaving Bill to tidy himself up as Sam tucked himself away with one hand.
"I'll just go and freshen up," he said and left the room, quickly locating a free telephone and calling down to reception for Philip.
Sam then found a small bathroom and cleaned himself up as much as he could before returning to the meeting room. Bill was no longer there, but Philip was.
"Oh, Sam. There you are," he said as Sam re-entered the room and reached for his jacket. "Thank you so much."
"Bill signed then?"
"Oh yes," Philip grinned. "You worked a minor miracle there. I didn't think he was ever going to agree. Just out of interest, what did you have to promise him?"
"Just that his trust in your company would not be misplaced."
"Ah," Philip winked. "It's just as well that it won't be, then, eh? Well. That's almost it for today. Just one more piece of business to take care of."
Sam quirked an eyebrow. "Really?"
"Oh, nothing like that, Sam. I'm actually a happily married man, if you can believe that. But, thanks for the offer. No, here." He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a brown envelope. "I know I've already paid your boss, but that's a bit extra for you. A bit of a bonus for doing such sterling work today."
Sam took the envelope, resisting the temptation to look inside. "Thanks."
"No problem. And, of course, I'll see if I can put a bit more business your way in the future."
Sukey's door opened as Sam climbed the stairs and a wolf-whistle emerged from her flat, to be followed by the tenant herself.
"Nice suit, Sam," she grinned. "Been to see your bank manager? Direct deposit or a withdrawal?"
For once Sam smiled back. "Business meeting, actually."
"And what were you doing at a business meeting?"
Sam couldn't help it and started laughing. "Corporate entertainment."