"A Bit of Manly Therapy" Part 3
Title: “A Bit of Manly Therapy.”
Author: madmonkeyshow
Parings: Sam/Gene/Ray
Warnings: Mild Bondage, Sex, Bad Language, adult concepts
Word count: 795
Disclaimer: These boys are only mine in my imagination. Here on Earth, they are copyright BBC/Kudos
Rating: Brownish/Red Cortina, for scary emotional content
What if Gene Hunt had been deeply closeted when Sam met him in 1973?
Tags: gene/sam, sam/gene, ray, fic Part three
“A Bit of Manly Therapy” by madmonkeyshow
Gene stumped over to the bathroom door, arms akimbo.
“Carling!” he shouted, shoving the door open wide. “I expected you gone by this time!”
Sam snagged a robe, and peeked around Gene’s ample shoulder to look at the bound man.
Ray made a muffled howl of clear frustration, struggling in his bindings in the claw foot tub.
Gene folded his arms, leaning against the upper portion of the doorframe. “Ray’s a bit of a Houdini,” he confided to Sam. “Well, ‘e is, usually. Ray’s known for bein’ able to work ‘is way out of police cuffs. Before now, anyway. Alright, Raymundo, pipe down!” Gene sauntered over and removed Ray’s gag.
Ray Carling coughed, his rough face reddening. He glared at Gene, squinting up at him with one aqua eye.
“’Ow am I supposed t’ get loose when you truss me up in this pissin’ body bag?! I could ‘ardly bloody breathe!”
“Well, you’re the best lookin’ dead man I ever saw,” Gene said, perching on the edge of the tub
Ray and Sam locked eyes at that moment. Sam was angry that Ray was there at all-he had felt that he and Gene were finally breaking through to their genuine feelings, really making a connection. To see that Gene had brought Ray here for some sort of bondage liaison was nearly disappointing. But of course, it was hardly the Savoy…
“Gene,” Sam barked, and he was shocked at the level of petulance in his tone, “I asked you what he was doing here?!”
“Yeah, I could ask you the same thing, Guv,” Ray grumbled.
Gene, who had set about undoing Ray’s bonds, glared at his DS. “We been getting’ together for years now,” he informed Sam. “I take ‘im, sort ‘im out now and then. Ray needs a firm hand.”
“Ray needs a muzzle and a choke chain,” Sam said sulkily
Ray got to his feet, and Sam was both amused and embarrassed to see that Ray was wearing an ivory leather corset, along with shiny patent leather and lace trimmed shorts, in the same ivory shade. But the topper was the boots: thigh high, laced up the back and with Chantilly lace stockings, plus a matching garter belt sewn with seed pearls.
Sam did not know whether to laugh or feel badly for Ray, who looked markedly uncomfortable. Sam found he could imagine Ray and Gene getting together, but never the circumstances that could lead to Ray’s present attire.
Gene suddenly shot out a beefy mitt and seized Ray’s throat, just above the d-ringed ivory leather collar he wore.
“What ‘ave I told you about your fucking attitude?!” Gene bellowed, his voice ringing off the tile and porcelain in the small bathroom. He slammed Ray’s face against the back wall, holding it pinned there, his fingers gripping Ray’s choppy blond headed scalp with bruising force.
Sam winced. “Now, Gene, wait a minute-“
Gene raised his free left hand for silence. “Zip it, Tyler,” he said warningly.
Tyler zipped it.
Gene leaned in close to Ray’s ear. “Did you have a question regardin’ DI Tyler’s presence here, Carling?”
“N-no, Guv-“ Ray all but sobbed.
“ARE YOU CERTAIN OF THAT, DS CARLING?!” Gene pressed the side of Ray’s head harder against the wall. “Because it sounded from your tone as if you were questioning me. Were you questioning me, Raymond?!!”
“NO! No, sir, I swear I was not questioning you!” Now Ray was crying, a sight Sam thought he would never witness. It was awful.
Gene hauled Ray out of the tub. He dragged him a short distance to the large purple dog dish by the door. As Sam watched, Gene shoved Ray to his knees, unbuttoned his fly, unpacked his substantial dick, and took a long piss into the bowl.
Sam swallowed with an audible click. “Gene, this isn’t necessary,” he said, placing a staying hand on Gene’s arm. “It’s too much. Please, stop.”
Gene looked hard into Sam’s light brown eyes. He glanced down at Ray, kneeling on the floor, his palms planted wide, still weeping.
Gene nodded once. He cuffed Ray across the top of his head. “Clean it up, shitbag!” he snapped.
Ray scrambled to do as he was bidden, taking the bowl into the bathroom and dumping it down the loo.
End part three.