Life on Mars fic
Title: You're my Villain
Author:
acidpenguin46
Pairing: Sam/Gene
Word Count: 2,111
Rating: Red Cortina
Warning: Graphic violence, slash, and while there is porn, you won't notice it because of all of the angst. Also un-betaed.
Summary: Sam has a slightly different view of the situation between him and Gene.
Spoilers: References to big events in 2.8
Disclaimer: Unfortunately it's not mine, it all belongs to Kudos and the BBC.
NOTES: Anyone who wanted a somewhat happy resolution to "I'm Your Villain" is going to be somewhat disappointed, because this is angst with a side serve of angst, followed by an angst-ridden dessert. Not so much a sequel as the events retold from Sam's perspective, this particular take on events was inspired by a comment by
dorsetgirl , and encouraged by
m31andy . Don't say I didn't warn you there would be angst.
Gene's perspective here (I'd read this bit first).
You're my Villain
“Sam? Sam? You’re not even listening, are you?” Sam’s gaze drifted up from his half-empty beer glass and settled upon Annie’s annoyed face.
“Sorry, I was miles away.” Annie glanced at him before continuing with her story, and as much as Sam tried to pay attention to her tales of modern woman policing his mind couldn’t help but drift back to the green-eyed man who was avoiding his gaze from the other side of the pub. He let his eyes briefly linger on his DCI, taking in the way he seemed to be on edge. He felt a small shiver run down his spine, as fear started to pool at the base of his stomach. His DCI being that tense could only mean one thing. His musings were interrupted by a loud cough, and he turned to see Annie pick up her glass and rise from her seat. He debated with himself. He could reach for her hand and tell her to stay with him until closing time, but that would be selfish and it was better to get it over and done with. That way the injuries had more time to heal. He let her go, and rose to leave, noticing his DCI watching him out of the corner of his eye.
He pulled his jacket close to him against the bitter wind and stood on the footpath outside of his flat. He ignored the sensation of his fingers going numb. Before he had jumped it was the Test Card Girl that would keep him from going upstairs and contemplating if it was worth it to just keep walking, to just let his feet guide him wherever they wanted, protect himself from the nightmare that awaited him inside. She was gone now, and in her place was an aspect of his subconscious that was more terrifying. One which left him on the floor curled in upon himself, shaking in fear and self-disgust. He hated these nights; he hated what Gene did to him. He hated himself the most. The way he let rough hands bruise his body, clenched fists batter him until blood dripped on the floor and the other man’s penis rip him open from the inside out, it made him sick. He hated that, in comparison to his desire for the other man, a man too scared by his feelings for another man, the need to keep himself safe paled in comparison. He pulled the jacket closer and went inside.
Soon enough Sam saw Gene strut up the footpath, hunched in his camel coat against the cold. He shuddered as mental images of when Gene had fucked him so hard on top of that coat that the skin on his chest burnt flashed through his mind as he removed his clothes. He always did this. He couldn’t afford to keep replacing them after these nights. He stayed in the same spot by the window, watching the shadows play in the dim moonlight, as his door was once broken down. The Gene Genie had arrived.
Turning around only when he has to, he delayed seeing Gene’s eyes hungrily devour every contour of his naked body. He felt the bile start to rise in his throat as his body reacted to the sight of this lion, preparing to attack its prey. With speed belying his size he was in Sam’s personal space, smirking as Sam’s dick rose to salute him. He punched Sam’s upper lip tonight. Sam could never help but be momentarily shocked as Gene’s fist made its first connection with his body, despite how much he wanted to show that nothing Gene did would get to him. The other man leant in closer and a warm tongue played at the wound, temporarily ceasing the blood flow as it teased the split in Sam’s upper lip. Words of how this was Sam’s fault escaped Gene’s mouth, and Sam felt like vomiting because of how true those words were.
He fought against the nausea and was rewarded by Gene taking his body and hurling it against the wall, the thunk his head made as it connected having barely passed before Gene was at him. Gene used his bulk to push Sam’s body so close to the wall that he had to struggle against the body against him or risk suffocation. He felt Gene tightly encircle his wrists roughly with one of his hands and pin them above his head, crushing his wrists. He tried to detachedly observe Gene’s victorious smirk but his body betrayed him, his hips thrusting at the older man’s clothed groin as teeth pierced the skin of his neck.
He knew he had done the wrong thing when Gene stepped back. He didn’t close his eyes as Gene’s free hand hurtled towards his face, or at the stinging sensation that it left behind. He couldn’t show weakness. The same hand then roughly rubbed against the burn before moving to play with his split lip, pain screaming through his body as calloused fingers pressed down hard enough to restart the dribble of blood than had begun to heal. He heard Gene mutter in the dark, “Now pet, there’s no need for that just yet, is there?” Sam looked up, with what he so desperately wanted to be a defiant expression on his face. “No, Guv.”
Sam saw the smirk on Gene’s face deepen as he said, “That’s better,” patting him on his abused cheek for being such a good little boy. Gene’s other hand left his wrists and moved to his throat, grasping as hard as could without completely restricting air flow. As the air in his lungs struggled to escape. Gene whispered in his ear, the cool air escaping from his mouth providing all too brief relief for his burning cheek. “Undo my tie Tyler.”
He did as he was told and when he was finished he let the tie slip from his fingers, and when Gene instructed him lay down on his bed, he complied. He knew that Gene would want to start with a blow job so he laid on his back, the cold air in his flat making his facial wounds sting even more. He ignored Gene rustling around in the kitchen, concentrating instead on his pounding head. He hoped he had some headache tablets.
When Gene returned the smirk on his face was marred by the chipmunk effect that whatever was in mouth was had on his cheeks. He felt his hands get lifted from where they were lying on either side of his body and get pinned together again. This time they were bound together by what he assumed was Gene’s tie and then tied to the end of his shitty cot. Gene began to walk towards the door, stopping by the opposite bed end. Despite the bed being barely big enough for one, Gene managed to squeeze on. He sat on his knees, which were on both sides of Sam’s calves, and the rest of his body lay on top of Sam’s legs, so that his head hovered just above Sam’s dick, which was quite clearly showing the effect Gene had on Sam’s body despite what was going on in his head. The erect penis was subjected to ice cold air before the moist warmth of Gene’s tongue made it’s agonisingly slow way from base to tip, and Sam knew immediately what Gene held in his mouth.
He sought more warmth by thrusting upwards, only to have his efforts thwarted by fingernails digging into his hipbones. Gene left his shaft alone for now, choosing instead to roll his tongue and the melting ice cubes around the head, teasing the slit with the tip as it slowly sought out Sam’s precum. Only when the ice cubes melted did Gene take the whole of Sam in his mouth. Sam felt Gene’s hands leave his hips, and as the fingers of one were brutally thrust into Sam’s hole, beginning to scissor before Sam had the chance to adjust, the other circled around the base of his dick, clamping down whenever Gene felt it necessary. He tried to thrust again, but when Gene bit down so hard that he was surprised that it hadn’t started to bleed, he learnt his lesson.
It continued in much the same vein until Sam finally felt his balls tighten. He knew by the way Gene stilled that he had noticed as well. Sam’s cock slipped from his mouth with a loud plop, and he couldn’t hold back the moan from escaping his mouth as Gene left it waiting, reaching up to Sam’s bound hands while ensuring the only body parts touching Sam were his hands as he removed the tie. Sam bit his lip as Gene’s fingers dug into the raw skin on his wrists before lifting himself completely off of the bed. He walked around the bed, eyeing the bruised, battered body like it was a steak and he was a man who hadn’t eaten in a week, which was a metaphor too close to the truth for Sam’s liking.
Gene paused in his circling when he reached the end of the bed, and roughly pulled Sam’s head up, taking his tie and gagging Sam with it. He followed Gene’s instructions to turn around; making sure that the side of his cheek that had been slapped remained off the bed, and Gene continued his [walking around the bed]. Sam didn’t hear him stop, so when leather whipped hard across his arse cheeks he was grateful that the tie muffled his surprised yell. He heard Gene say, “Now, you know that’s not allowed, don’t you Sammy boy?” and Sam, guessing that the other man was referring to him nearly coming, nodded.
Sam felt the bed dip on the right side of his thighs and felt Gene straddle his legs, the head of his dick being nudged against Sam’s already sore entrance. Sam tried to prepare himself for the brutal impaling, but it never quite was enough to deal with Gene’s thick long cock forcing its way into Sam’s hole with all the force of a freight train, ripping everything apart at the seams. The pain heightened as Gene began to thrust in wild abandon and again Sam was thankful the tie was there to muffle the screams. After what seemed like an age, his abused hole had loosened to a point beyond pain, and while he struggled to keep from crying in frustration his muscles clenched in time to Gene’s thrusts. At least this time Gene was using something akin to rhythm. He knew him moaning brought Gene off quicker, so he gave his best performance, moaning like cheap street corner whore. He felt Gene bite hard on his shoulder and the tie couldn’t fully muffle his scream. That shoulder had been where Gene had started last time.
Sam was always overwhelmed by the silence that followed. He longed to yell, to hit, to bruise the body of the man who silently withdrew from his aching body, but he never did. He always kept his emotions in check as Gene tidied himself, his blank face a mask covering the howling storm swirling behind it. Sam always hoped that he would turn back, just once, and say sorry and that the only reason he hurt Sam like this was because it hurt him too much for it to be different. He never did. Sam closed his eyes and barely heard the words Gene said as he closed the door behind him.
As soon as the door shut, put his hand on his neglected cock and gently ran his palm up and down the shaft until it was once again fully erect. He then closed his fingers around and began in earnest, nearly thrusting into his hand as he came, green eyes blinking in the haze of his mind. He wiped his hand on his chest rose from the bed, hobbling into the bathroom, his whole body in pain. He looked at his bruised and bloody face staring back at him from the mirror, briefly entertaining the idea that it wasn’t he who let this happen to him. He turned on the shower and lay on his side under the water, his arse still too painful to sit down on. Knees were pulled close to his chest with shaking arms as the falling water mingled with the salty taste of tears. He could stop this, he thought. Tell Gene to fuck off back to whatever dark chasm of Sam’s demented mind he had emerged from. A wave of nausea threatened to overpower him. He knew he could never do that. He preferred to be miserable instead.
Author:
acidpenguin46
Pairing: Sam/Gene
Word Count: 2,111
Rating: Red Cortina
Warning: Graphic violence, slash, and while there is porn, you won't notice it because of all of the angst. Also un-betaed.
Summary: Sam has a slightly different view of the situation between him and Gene.
Spoilers: References to big events in 2.8
Disclaimer: Unfortunately it's not mine, it all belongs to Kudos and the BBC.
NOTES: Anyone who wanted a somewhat happy resolution to "I'm Your Villain" is going to be somewhat disappointed, because this is angst with a side serve of angst, followed by an angst-ridden dessert. Not so much a sequel as the events retold from Sam's perspective, this particular take on events was inspired by a comment by
dorsetgirl , and encouraged by
m31andy . Don't say I didn't warn you there would be angst.
Gene's perspective here (I'd read this bit first).
You're my Villain
“Sam? Sam? You’re not even listening, are you?” Sam’s gaze drifted up from his half-empty beer glass and settled upon Annie’s annoyed face.
“Sorry, I was miles away.” Annie glanced at him before continuing with her story, and as much as Sam tried to pay attention to her tales of modern woman policing his mind couldn’t help but drift back to the green-eyed man who was avoiding his gaze from the other side of the pub. He let his eyes briefly linger on his DCI, taking in the way he seemed to be on edge. He felt a small shiver run down his spine, as fear started to pool at the base of his stomach. His DCI being that tense could only mean one thing. His musings were interrupted by a loud cough, and he turned to see Annie pick up her glass and rise from her seat. He debated with himself. He could reach for her hand and tell her to stay with him until closing time, but that would be selfish and it was better to get it over and done with. That way the injuries had more time to heal. He let her go, and rose to leave, noticing his DCI watching him out of the corner of his eye.
He pulled his jacket close to him against the bitter wind and stood on the footpath outside of his flat. He ignored the sensation of his fingers going numb. Before he had jumped it was the Test Card Girl that would keep him from going upstairs and contemplating if it was worth it to just keep walking, to just let his feet guide him wherever they wanted, protect himself from the nightmare that awaited him inside. She was gone now, and in her place was an aspect of his subconscious that was more terrifying. One which left him on the floor curled in upon himself, shaking in fear and self-disgust. He hated these nights; he hated what Gene did to him. He hated himself the most. The way he let rough hands bruise his body, clenched fists batter him until blood dripped on the floor and the other man’s penis rip him open from the inside out, it made him sick. He hated that, in comparison to his desire for the other man, a man too scared by his feelings for another man, the need to keep himself safe paled in comparison. He pulled the jacket closer and went inside.
Soon enough Sam saw Gene strut up the footpath, hunched in his camel coat against the cold. He shuddered as mental images of when Gene had fucked him so hard on top of that coat that the skin on his chest burnt flashed through his mind as he removed his clothes. He always did this. He couldn’t afford to keep replacing them after these nights. He stayed in the same spot by the window, watching the shadows play in the dim moonlight, as his door was once broken down. The Gene Genie had arrived.
Turning around only when he has to, he delayed seeing Gene’s eyes hungrily devour every contour of his naked body. He felt the bile start to rise in his throat as his body reacted to the sight of this lion, preparing to attack its prey. With speed belying his size he was in Sam’s personal space, smirking as Sam’s dick rose to salute him. He punched Sam’s upper lip tonight. Sam could never help but be momentarily shocked as Gene’s fist made its first connection with his body, despite how much he wanted to show that nothing Gene did would get to him. The other man leant in closer and a warm tongue played at the wound, temporarily ceasing the blood flow as it teased the split in Sam’s upper lip. Words of how this was Sam’s fault escaped Gene’s mouth, and Sam felt like vomiting because of how true those words were.
He fought against the nausea and was rewarded by Gene taking his body and hurling it against the wall, the thunk his head made as it connected having barely passed before Gene was at him. Gene used his bulk to push Sam’s body so close to the wall that he had to struggle against the body against him or risk suffocation. He felt Gene tightly encircle his wrists roughly with one of his hands and pin them above his head, crushing his wrists. He tried to detachedly observe Gene’s victorious smirk but his body betrayed him, his hips thrusting at the older man’s clothed groin as teeth pierced the skin of his neck.
He knew he had done the wrong thing when Gene stepped back. He didn’t close his eyes as Gene’s free hand hurtled towards his face, or at the stinging sensation that it left behind. He couldn’t show weakness. The same hand then roughly rubbed against the burn before moving to play with his split lip, pain screaming through his body as calloused fingers pressed down hard enough to restart the dribble of blood than had begun to heal. He heard Gene mutter in the dark, “Now pet, there’s no need for that just yet, is there?” Sam looked up, with what he so desperately wanted to be a defiant expression on his face. “No, Guv.”
Sam saw the smirk on Gene’s face deepen as he said, “That’s better,” patting him on his abused cheek for being such a good little boy. Gene’s other hand left his wrists and moved to his throat, grasping as hard as could without completely restricting air flow. As the air in his lungs struggled to escape. Gene whispered in his ear, the cool air escaping from his mouth providing all too brief relief for his burning cheek. “Undo my tie Tyler.”
He did as he was told and when he was finished he let the tie slip from his fingers, and when Gene instructed him lay down on his bed, he complied. He knew that Gene would want to start with a blow job so he laid on his back, the cold air in his flat making his facial wounds sting even more. He ignored Gene rustling around in the kitchen, concentrating instead on his pounding head. He hoped he had some headache tablets.
When Gene returned the smirk on his face was marred by the chipmunk effect that whatever was in mouth was had on his cheeks. He felt his hands get lifted from where they were lying on either side of his body and get pinned together again. This time they were bound together by what he assumed was Gene’s tie and then tied to the end of his shitty cot. Gene began to walk towards the door, stopping by the opposite bed end. Despite the bed being barely big enough for one, Gene managed to squeeze on. He sat on his knees, which were on both sides of Sam’s calves, and the rest of his body lay on top of Sam’s legs, so that his head hovered just above Sam’s dick, which was quite clearly showing the effect Gene had on Sam’s body despite what was going on in his head. The erect penis was subjected to ice cold air before the moist warmth of Gene’s tongue made it’s agonisingly slow way from base to tip, and Sam knew immediately what Gene held in his mouth.
He sought more warmth by thrusting upwards, only to have his efforts thwarted by fingernails digging into his hipbones. Gene left his shaft alone for now, choosing instead to roll his tongue and the melting ice cubes around the head, teasing the slit with the tip as it slowly sought out Sam’s precum. Only when the ice cubes melted did Gene take the whole of Sam in his mouth. Sam felt Gene’s hands leave his hips, and as the fingers of one were brutally thrust into Sam’s hole, beginning to scissor before Sam had the chance to adjust, the other circled around the base of his dick, clamping down whenever Gene felt it necessary. He tried to thrust again, but when Gene bit down so hard that he was surprised that it hadn’t started to bleed, he learnt his lesson.
It continued in much the same vein until Sam finally felt his balls tighten. He knew by the way Gene stilled that he had noticed as well. Sam’s cock slipped from his mouth with a loud plop, and he couldn’t hold back the moan from escaping his mouth as Gene left it waiting, reaching up to Sam’s bound hands while ensuring the only body parts touching Sam were his hands as he removed the tie. Sam bit his lip as Gene’s fingers dug into the raw skin on his wrists before lifting himself completely off of the bed. He walked around the bed, eyeing the bruised, battered body like it was a steak and he was a man who hadn’t eaten in a week, which was a metaphor too close to the truth for Sam’s liking.
Gene paused in his circling when he reached the end of the bed, and roughly pulled Sam’s head up, taking his tie and gagging Sam with it. He followed Gene’s instructions to turn around; making sure that the side of his cheek that had been slapped remained off the bed, and Gene continued his [walking around the bed]. Sam didn’t hear him stop, so when leather whipped hard across his arse cheeks he was grateful that the tie muffled his surprised yell. He heard Gene say, “Now, you know that’s not allowed, don’t you Sammy boy?” and Sam, guessing that the other man was referring to him nearly coming, nodded.
Sam felt the bed dip on the right side of his thighs and felt Gene straddle his legs, the head of his dick being nudged against Sam’s already sore entrance. Sam tried to prepare himself for the brutal impaling, but it never quite was enough to deal with Gene’s thick long cock forcing its way into Sam’s hole with all the force of a freight train, ripping everything apart at the seams. The pain heightened as Gene began to thrust in wild abandon and again Sam was thankful the tie was there to muffle the screams. After what seemed like an age, his abused hole had loosened to a point beyond pain, and while he struggled to keep from crying in frustration his muscles clenched in time to Gene’s thrusts. At least this time Gene was using something akin to rhythm. He knew him moaning brought Gene off quicker, so he gave his best performance, moaning like cheap street corner whore. He felt Gene bite hard on his shoulder and the tie couldn’t fully muffle his scream. That shoulder had been where Gene had started last time.
Sam was always overwhelmed by the silence that followed. He longed to yell, to hit, to bruise the body of the man who silently withdrew from his aching body, but he never did. He always kept his emotions in check as Gene tidied himself, his blank face a mask covering the howling storm swirling behind it. Sam always hoped that he would turn back, just once, and say sorry and that the only reason he hurt Sam like this was because it hurt him too much for it to be different. He never did. Sam closed his eyes and barely heard the words Gene said as he closed the door behind him.
As soon as the door shut, put his hand on his neglected cock and gently ran his palm up and down the shaft until it was once again fully erect. He then closed his fingers around and began in earnest, nearly thrusting into his hand as he came, green eyes blinking in the haze of his mind. He wiped his hand on his chest rose from the bed, hobbling into the bathroom, his whole body in pain. He looked at his bruised and bloody face staring back at him from the mirror, briefly entertaining the idea that it wasn’t he who let this happen to him. He turned on the shower and lay on his side under the water, his arse still too painful to sit down on. Knees were pulled close to his chest with shaking arms as the falling water mingled with the salty taste of tears. He could stop this, he thought. Tell Gene to fuck off back to whatever dark chasm of Sam’s demented mind he had emerged from. A wave of nausea threatened to overpower him. He knew he could never do that. He preferred to be miserable instead.