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Sam and Malcolm are no strangers to tough, utterly exhausting days. It was rare though when they actually got to go home instead of sleeping at the office and today was no different. Malcom checked his phone, 2 am fuck they must be the last poor fucks left in the building.
Malcom throws his phone across the room in disgust like it had personally done something to keep them here "fuck it, Sam! We're done here I'm gonnae get some sleep if it fucking kills me" he growls, running his hands through his already thoroughly dishevelled hair. His fucking brain hurt and he's sure his glasses have made a dent on his nose and fuck everything was annoying right now.
"Would you quit fucking whining?" Sam snarls from behind her desk. Dark bags under her eyes, hair a complete mess, she's just as exhausted as him. It's 2:00 a.m., according to her phone, no wonder. Hours upon hours of dealing with useless ministers, everyone's temper at an all-time high...she's done with this stress and wants Malcolm to honestly shut up for once. "I swear to fuck, if everyone in this building put as much effort into their jobs as they do at complaining, we'd be smooth fucking sailing."
"Oh fuck you, ye little fucking Oxford bitch" he snaps "Ye know damn well I'm the only one in this fucking building that does my fucking job" he leans back in his chair, ripping his tie off since it was suddenly far too suffocating.
He mumbles something under his breath at his tie, content to take his anger out on every inanimate object in the office. He glances over at same again and scoffs "You need a rest more than anyone, ye look like you've been dragged through a fucking woodchipper" he grumbles, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms like a sulking child.
Sam has absolutely had it with Malcolm's ranting today, standing from her chair and storming over to him. "At least I don't look like a miserable racoon," she snarls, a somewhat childish insult perhaps but it's all her mind truly has energy for. "And I'd rather be an uptight Oxford bitch than a cursing Glasgow washed-up old rockstar, who found himself utterly miserable in politics."
Too far? Possibly, in fact, she regrets it the second it leaves her lips, seeing Malcolm's eyes truly darken at her for the first time...ever.
Malcolm doesn't have time to process the raccoon comment before Sam's in front of him and his next comment snaps something inside him. He rises from his chair, now looking down at her "Take that back" he snarls, voice dangerously low "Before I say something I really fucking regret" he threatens.
They're locked in a stare-down now, both of them almost shaking with rage and while it's not directed at each other specifically, they both just happen to be the only people to take it out on.
Too far...that had been way too far.
Sam forgets sometimes how tall Malcolm actually is, and right now he's towering over her, eyes glaring into hers, almost glowing with anger. But she's too angry to be intimidated, in fact continuing to curse at the man, her rage from the day blinding her. "You know what? Fine! Say it! I said something I fucking regret just two seconds ago so why not?"
His fists clench at his sides and he's sure he could dislocate his jaw with how hard he's holding it shut. He steps closer, trapping her between his body and his desk and placing his fingers on her chest "You are quite possibly one of the most impossible people I've ever had the fucking pleasure of working with" he snarls, still backing her against his desk.
"And the worst part is you know I need you..." he trails off, ice-blue eyes still staring into hers intensely from behind his glasses.
Malcolm tends to be right...and this is one such time. Pinned between him and his desk, their bodies pressed together, both bodies warm and breathing rapidly...those fiery eyes staring down at her...fuck it, he's right again.
There are...better ways to let their anger out than cursing at each other.
So, Sam grabs Malcolm by his shirt, yanking him down for a bruising kiss.
Whatever Malcolm had been about to say was completely forgotten the second Sam's lips covered his. He loses himself in the kiss briefly before growling and pulling her off, panting heavily "fuck you" he grumbles before pulling her into another kiss.
He stumbles backwards into his chair, pulling her down with him so that she's straddling his lap. He can feel the heat radiating off her and his cock is already half-hard from their argument.
Sam is just as forceful from her pent-up rage, pushing him down into his chair as he pulls her, her hands already gripping his shirt. This could be good, a nice, rough way to let off steam, as she can already feel the hardness pressing against her thigh. "Fuck you too," she snarls, pressing another kiss to his lips and actually biting his lower lip when she pulls back. "Though...that's the idea."
Malcolm growls when she bites his lip, his hands sliding up her thighs and pulling her down roughly against him, his hips bucking up against her subconsciously.
One hand reaches up to tangle in her hair, pulling her head back roughly to give himself access to her neck "I've had fucking enough of all these brain-dead fucks yappin at me all day so do me a favour and shut the fuck up darlin" he murmurs in between nips at her neck.
His rough pull forces her damp heat against his crotch, Sam letting out a groan at the buck of his hips. His strong hand in her hair stings delightfully, as she gladly gives him access to her neck, already panting slightly as his teeth nip at her soft skin.
His harsh words, as usual, travel straight down her spine, Sam shuddering at his harsh tone. Her hands travel down his chest to undo his belt, shamelessly desperate.
He chuckles breathlessly at her fumbling to get into his trousers "fuck gagging for it is a good look on ye lass" he's about to make another snarky comment but the words die in his throat when she wraps her hand roughly around his cock.
If he wasn't hard before he's practically throbbing in her hand and he has to bite back a whimper. Even if he's never said it out loud he knows Sam must know how much her arguing with him turns him on.
She knows how much her fearlessness turns him on, grinning at his silence when she starts pumping his cock. Her verbal assaults from earlier only continue, growling in his face as she shamelessly grinds herself on his thigh. "Oh, is the great Malcolm Tucker speechless? It's a fucking miracle. All high and mighty 'til you take your voice away...now you're just a desperate, begging boy...f-far cry from the monster I saw today."
Malcolm throws his head back, letting it hit the back of his chair roughly. She's talking but he's hardly taking any notice, all he can think about right now is her hand moving on his cock, his hips bucking into her touch.
"Oh fuck you, m-maybe I've just had enough of fucking speaking after today" he manages to grunt out. His hands start making their way under her skirt to find her panties soaked. He makes a noise between a moan and a whimper as he pushes them to the side, sliding his fingers in.
Sam is wickedly delighted at his lack of power in that moment...before the grin fades from her lips and turns into a blissful moan. His fingers bury themselves into her dripping cunt, Sam's head tipping forward as she desperately grinds down onto his palm, her hands practically tearing Malcolm's pants down his legs. They both need this, both need to let off steam. "A-Again...fucking m-me is the idea here," she whimpers, next almost tearing off her own skirt.
Malcolm grunts when she accidentally knees him in the stomach while she attempts to rip his trousers off him "fucking christ lass I'm gettin' there" he grumbles
He doesn't waste any time, as soon as her skirt is out of the way enough he's pulling her down onto his now almost painfully hard cock. Calling out what might have been her name mixed with a general swear. He slides into her so easily and fuck he's so deep at this angle, he can feel every bit of her tight cunt and the way his balls are pressed flush against the outside of her is fucking exquisite.
"Malcolm!" his name is a cry of pleasure from her lips. His cock is so deep like this, filling her so beautifully. He feels wonderful inside her, her head filled with bliss as she desperately whimpers, praying he goes faster, fucks her like a toy. Any words are stammered whispers, eyes fixed on his. "P-Please...f-fucking use me..."
Malcom smirks "Your fuckin tough guy act dropped fast" he chuckles, hands gripping her hips and starting to move her along his length. He wasn't being as gentle as he'd usually be with her but fuck it he'd make it up to her later.
His hips thrust up wildly to meet hers, pulling her right back down as soon as she pulls away, the only sound in the room their skin slapping and their heavy breathing.
Sam doesn't even have the energy to reply to his remark. This rough, brutal pace is exactly what she needs, as she clings to him as if for dear life, nails digging into his shoulders. "D-Don't mock me..." she growls between gasps, "Y-You're the one...nng...d-desperate enough to f-fuck a little English bitch." Not that she's complaining, hardly, her quieter noises turning to shameless moans. He feels so good inside her, deep and relentless, Sam is hardly able to keep her eyes open from the pleasure.
Malcolm can only snarl in response, angling his hips in a way that hits that one spot inside her that he knows makes her weak. They're both an absolute mess and Malcolm's sure his glasses should've fallen off by now but he doesn't care, all that matters right now is her.
"Well you're the one who's fucking desperate tae ride a washed-up rock star from Glasgow" he quips breathlessly while his hands run up her sides to grab her breasts roughly.
Sam squeals at the rough squeeze of her breasts, his harsher treatment only increasing her pleasure. His pace is merciless, and she's sure she'll be sore in the morning, her moans filling the room as he doesn't slow down. "Mmm...c-careful now...I'm a frail little English girl...wouldn't want to have me too sore to move tomorrow...ah...ha...m-might have to actually get your own coffee for once." Is she riling him up? Yes. But they both need this absolute stress relief, this release of anger. And even if she can barely move tomorrow...it's worth it, even as his fingers roughly pinch her nipples and she hisses at the sting.
The thought of her being obviously sore tomorrow shouldn't send such a rush of arousal down his spine but fuck him it does. Every time he flicks one of her nipples he can feel her muscles flutter around him and he knows if she keeps that up he won't last much longer.
"Good fuck it, I want it tae be obvious tomorrow, I want everyone tae know what we did, cause ye know damn well no poor fucks gonnae say anything tae me" he manages, his thrusts punctuating every word.
Between his thrusts, his continued attention to her breasts, and his harsh, possessive words having her arousal reach its peak. Close...she's so close, feeling the familiar shivers down her spine and twist in her stomach. "M-Malcolm..." her voice is a whimper, eyes squeezing shut as she lets out a squeal, the angle of his cock hitting a particular sweet spot. "F-Fuck..." her command is breathless, toes curled. "Right there...please...please please please..."
Malcolm's grip tightens and he squeezes his eyes shut in an attempt to concentrate and try to finish her first before he embarrasses himself. He keeps his brutal pace of bucking up into her and pulling her right back down.
He can feel himself reaching his own climax, the tightening in his balls coming on faster than he would have liked. He fumbles a hand between them to rub against her clit sloppily.
His movements are faster, wilder, his fingers on her clit almost desperately frantic. He's close, trying to get her off before he cums...and dammit it works. She's helpless from all the attention and pleasure, cumming around him with a scream of his name as her body shudders atop him. No need to keep quiet for once...and she wouldn't have cared right now if anyone did hear. A part of her almost wants someone to.
As soon as she screams he lets go himself, pinning her to him as he cums inside her, holding her tight to him as he fills her. His head is tucked into the side of her neck as he comes down from his high panting roughly. He feels absolutely boneless and her weight on top of him only adds to his urge to just fall asleep where they are “fuck that was fucking lovely” he pants, running his hands through her already messed-up hair.
She feels just as heavy, just as unable to move, only giving a soft hum in response at first. Then her voice returns, quiet as she catches her breath, holding him as tightly as she can manage. "Mm...we both needed that," she agrees, still having enough strength to gently nip at his ear teasingly. "I do enjoy it when you're angry, grumpy old man."