Fic: Drive Like a Car, by severinne (Brown Cortina)
First off, big thanks to everyone indulgent enough to read and comment on my last fic post, even if it was het-flavoured pre-slash. Now that the Sam/Maya is out of my system though, I come bearing good old-fashioned Sam/Gene smut.
Title: Drive Like a Car
Author: severinne
Rating: Brown Cortina
Warning: Explicit slash of the semi-established Sam/Gene variety; dirty talk, and alcohol abuse at the expense of a fine single malt.
Word Count: 3700 (arggh… that’s it, next time there’s a 1500 word cap)
Disclaimer: I only wish I owned Life on Mars.
Summary: If anyone recalls Sting Like I Feel from over a bleedin’ month ago, this is the sequel. Can probably be read as a stand-alone though, given that men fondling each other in a Cortina is a universal language. Or should be.
For consistency’s sake, title is, again, nicked from ‘20th Century Boy’ by T. Rex.
The inside of the Cortina had never felt so close as this.
Sam shifted uncomfortably against the gritty vinyl, stealing far too many glances at Gene’s gloved hands manipulating the gear shift and steering wheel. They were driving in silence, Gene inscrutable ever since he had joined Sam in the Cortina, tossing him his leather jacket and climbing behind the wheel with no comment on just how he had explained their early departure to the rest of the team.
Gene had put on his camelhair coat on his way out of the club, but Sam left his jacket draped across his lap for the journey - in large part because he was still sweat-soaked from dancing, among other things. In larger part because, in the three minutes he had spent waiting for Gene to fetch their coats, Sam had developed a raging hard-on. Just from waiting. Waiting to be taken home, taken to bed, where Gene was going to simply take him.
Biting hard at the inside of his lower lip, Sam held tight onto the handlebar above his window. Just because he had magically regained the recovery time of a teenager didn’t mean he had to indulge in furtive touching beneath his jacket. Gene would likely rumble him in two seconds anyway, would scold him or call him a slut, maybe punish him for it…
Sam’s fingers tightened around the handlebar, knuckles turning white.
He risked looking at Gene again, the occasional passing light revealing sharpened green eyes fixed on the road ahead and little else. Gene probably wasn’t hard, not so soon after their exchanged hand-jobs in the club’s back alley. Sam felt a whisper of shame colour his cheeks. He needed Gene to be with him in this strange new compact of theirs, needed to know they were going home together and that this wasn’t just a free lift back to another sleepless night in his shitty, desolate flat. He needed to know he wasn’t alone anymore.
‘I need a drink,’ Sam blurted out.
Gene threw him a quick glance, the corner of his mouth twisting slightly. ‘What, now?’
‘C’mon, you must have something on you…’
‘Sure, but I’m kinda busy at the mo’ tryin’ to get us home so I can - oh, shit…’ Gene broke off with a weak groan as Sam leaned in close, his hand frisking through layers of coat and suit with thorough intent, allowing his search to drift to places where he was certain Gene didn’t keep a flask, though he made some delightful discoveries in a careful investigation between Gene’s legs.
Clearly, he had underestimated the Gene Genie again. And being proven wrong had never felt so good.
Eventually growing wary of Gene’s ability to drive under these conditions, Sam gave his straining erection one more tracing finger’s worth of attention before withdrawing both his hand and a silver flask. Sam carefully craned his head back as he took a bracing swallow of scotch, sensing the familar heat of Gene’s eyes watching him as he drank.
‘Hope you were planning on sharing that,’ Gene grumbled, his voice tight.
Sam fixed him with a heated, measuring stare. ‘Afraid I draw the line at you literally drinking and driving at the same time,’ he drawled, letting his voice drop to a low purr. ‘You’d best pull over.’
The Cortina screeched to a violent halt. Sam’s body lurched in its precarious position leaning towards Gene, and he ricocheted back in even closer proximity, pressed tight to Gene’s side. Accidentally, of course.
‘Right. Give ‘er ‘ere.’ Gene reached for the flask, irritation scoring his brow as Sam playfully pulled his hand out of reach. ‘Sam…’
Enjoying himself far too much to be entirely safe, Sam smirked before taking another sip from the flask and, tilting his head, sealed his lips hard to Gene’s mouth and let the scotch flow into the kiss. A deep sound of surprise echoed into Sam’s mouth as Gene’s tongue lapped hungrily into him, greedily drinking in every trace of the single malt and drawing out a low, muffled moan from Sam’s desperate lips.
By the time their kiss breathlessly broke, Sam dazedly found himself insinuated between Gene and the steering wheel, legs awkwardly tangled across Gene’s lap. How he had worked his way into such a tight space Sam had no idea, but a careful shifting of limbs balanced out his precarious position over Gene’s body and brought their straining erections into flush contact through their collective layers of clothing. ‘Mm, you like that?’ Sam asked, and immediately flushed - God, he sounded cheap.
Gene stared hard at him, panting heavily. ‘Still thirsty,’ he growled.
Breath catching in his suddenly dry throat, Sam hastily lifted the flask and drained it sloppily, whisky spilling over his lips and down his neck even as Gene surged forward and claimed his mouth again. Sam was barely aware of the empty flask dropping from his fingers, not with the push of lips and tongue against his own, Gene’s hands on either side of his face, tilting his head to deepen the kiss, and oh, his leather-clad thumbs pressing and stroking possessively over his cheekbones, shaping him to the broad strokes of Gene’s desires.
Moaning helplessly, Sam let his mouth fall slack once Gene had drunk the last drops from his mouth, gasping through the sensation of Gene’s tongue dragging around the contours of his lips in search of the oak-rich burn of whisky, sweeping down his chin to chase the amber rivulets clinging to his heated skin. Gene’s hands pushed his head back hard, exposing his throat so he could lap at the droplets pooled in the hollow between his collarbones. The sensation of being tasted so intently made Sam want to luxuriate in every touch, made him press his face into the smoky scent of Gene’s gloved hands cradling his head, his mouth seeking and suckling at the first finger he could catch between his teeth. A harsh groan of approval and the second leather-clad digit forcing its way into his mouth alongside the first made Sam ache with need, writhing between the hard insistence of Gene’s cock beneath him and the manipulations of Gene’s gloved hands and fingers above him, moving over and into him.
‘Fuck…’ Gene breathed the obscenity against his sternum, his hands drifting away from Sam’s face and sweeping down over his torso, mapping the rolling movement of his body. ‘This that lap-dancing thing you mentioned back there?’
Sam gasped sharply as the heel of Gene’s hand brushed over the front of his uncomfortably tight trousers. ‘Could be,’ he replied breathlessly. And that had been a flippant joke, earlier in the alley with Gene’s disheveled appearance sparking off his smug inner tease, but now the very idea of performing all manner of debauched acts for his Guv was making his heart jackhammer in his chest and his cock twitch in anticipation.
With no small measure of regret, Sam dragged Gene’s roving hands away from his body, pushing them down to either side of the driver’s seat. ‘One rule with a lap dance,’ he said steadily, staring directly into Gene’s piercing eyes. ‘You keep your ‘ands to yourself. No touching.’
‘Rules?’ Gene was incredulous. ‘Figures you of all people would ruin a good bit o’ fun with yer soddin’ rules,’ he huffed under his breath.
Frowning, Sam replied by bracing his hands on the back of Gene’s seat and grinding himself hard against Gene’s erection, rolling his hips slowly to draw out the long, inarticulate sound that had taken over Gene’s grumbling over the rules. Satisfied that he had Gene thoroughly distracted now, he began to thrust with more exaggerated movements, allowing his hips to circle away as far as the steering wheel at his back would allow before rolling forward again. Sam couldn’t resist slowing whenever his own rock-hard cock met Gene’s body, rubbing feverishly against his reassuring weight before pulling back again. The solidity of Gene’s body was addictive and wonderful beneath his hands as Sam stroked over his broad shoulders and chest, pushing at the layers of his coat and suit and shirt in a desperate search for skin.
‘Wait, wait, ‘old up there.’ Sam glanced up sharply, fingers digging possessively into Gene’s waist beneath his suit, bristling at the interruption. ‘What ‘appened to that no-touching rule o’ yours?’
Sam was pleased to hear the breathless note behind Gene’s protest, and simply smirked as he tugged Gene’s shirt from his belted trousers and slipped his hands beneath layers of thin fabric to stroke heated flesh. ‘That rule only applies to you,’ he murmured. ‘Customer keeps ‘is ‘ands off, and I get to do,’ he slipped his fingers beneath the waistband of Gene’s trousers, tugging gently, ‘whatever I want.’
‘Customer, eh?’ Gene’s eyes narrowed and darkened. ‘So that makes you, what, my whore, is it?’
A scandalized shiver rushed across every inch of Sam’s skin. He closed his eyes and bit his lip to hold back the needy, pathetic whimper crawling up the back of his throat. ‘Gene…’ He meant it to sound like a warning, but even he could hear the pleading note in that single syllable, even over the blood pounding in his ears.
‘Thought so.’ Gene’s satisfied growl vibrated between them like a touch. ‘Back to work then, tart.’
‘Oh, God.’ Sam could feel his cheeks burning even as his cock throbbed hard against his flies. Ruthlessly, he forced his attention into his hands and their shaky efforts to unfasten every buckle, button and zip keeping him from touching Gene. He wanted Gene looking every bit as debauched as Sam felt, wanted his body exposed to every brush of hips, thighs and hands that Sam could no longer stop. Breathing heavily into the crook of his neck, Sam rocked restlessly in Gene’s lap, bracing his hands against the roof of the Cortina for leverage as he tilted his hips and teased down, up, then down again, relishing the press of Gene’s cock against his arse, the enticing brush of his exposed belly against the straining bulge in his trousers, the firm squeeze of a hand around his thigh…
Sam felt a low, warning growl rumbling in his chest, and stifled it around a sharp bite to Gene’s neck, teeth clenching in satisfaction at the sound of the other man’s shocked gasp. ‘I said, no touching,’ he cautioned in a low rasp, mouth pressed to Gene’s ear, tongue darting out to gently reward the hard tremor that shook the body beneath him.
‘Can’t ‘elp it,’ Gene panted harshly, though his hand did lift from Sam’s thigh. ‘What with you movin’ like that, jus’ beggin’ to be touched…’ He twisted his shoulders, shifting his head back and fixing Sam with a hard, calculating glare. ‘Guess you’ll ‘ave to do it instead.’
‘What?’ Sam gazed blankly into Gene’s flashing green eyes, more than a little distracted by the lush length of his lashes.
‘Want to see you touch yourself.’ A darkly determined look passed over Gene’s face even as he stretched his arms up and folded his hands behind his head in a gesture of affected casualness. ‘Body like yours needs a proper seein’-to, so best get to it, cos if you won’t, to hell with yer damn rules.’
Sam shuddered at the threat behind Gene’s heated words. He was sorely tempted to push Gene to that very point, quite literally force his hand and happily reap the consequences, especially if it averted the embarrassment he was already feeling at the idea of pleasuring himself for an audience. He could let Gene win this round, surrender to the man in the driver’s seat.
Except that Sam was still on top of the man in the driver’s seat. He was still in control, he told himself with a rush of fierce pride. An ironic smile quirked his lips as he considered the situation - doing what Gene wanted to keep to his own rule, to maintain the upper hand.
Guess that’s why we’re both in the driver’s seat, Sam thought with detached amusement as he leaned back and felt the steering wheel digging into his lower back. Taking a slow, steadying breath, he let his clenched fists relax downward from their bracing position against the roof and settle uncertainly at his belt. His fingers brushed over the tented front of his trousers, making him gasp involuntarily at the welcome stimulation of his own, hesitant touch.
‘That’s right…’ Gene was watching his hands with undisguised lust, his mouth gaping around soft yet shallow breaths. ‘Go on, Sammy, show me how much you want it…’
Sam’s fingers stuttered, shame making him hesitate. ‘Tell me what to do,’ he pleaded, low and clear.
Gene sucked in a sharp breath, eyes widening. ‘Sam…’ His Adam’s apple bobbed, slowly, once.
‘Tell me what you want to see me do to myself.’ Sam let his hips roll a single, slow rotation in Gene’s lap, stroking down his own thigh and letting his hand fall to rest over the heavy heat of Gene’s cock, rubbing a fingertip into the drop of pre-come beading at the slit. ‘Tell me exactly what you want me to do. Tell me how and where I should touch myself.’ With a heart-hammering, delicious thrill of arousal at his own daring, he added, in his lowest tone, ‘Anything to please the client.’
Gene’s hips bucked beneath him, a heavy moan slipping past his slack lips. The dangerous fire in his eyes was the same as earlier, back at the club when Gene had watched him dance, making him feel both deeply worshipped and downright sleazy. ‘Unbutton your shirt,’ he gasped finally, eyes flicking downward. ‘Slowly, like. Don’ want to shoot me load all over you jus’ yet.’
‘Plenty of time for that later,’ Sam said, reaching up and skimming his fingers over the line of shirt buttons, noting the two already open at his collar, the one he had lost in the alley earlier, ‘sir,’ he added in a whisper, pushing the small plastic buttons through their holes.
Gene growled. Sam grinned, feeling Gene’s cock twitch where it pressed against Sam’s inner thigh. ‘Decided you like playin’ the cheap prozzie after all, did you?’
Sam fingered the unbuttoned edges of his shirt, breathing hard through the renewed flash of arousal blurring the edges of his control. ‘Only for you,’ he said, drawing his shirt open and down his shoulders to his elbows, letting the thin polyester gather there while he awaited further instructions, holding his breath.
‘Too damn right,’ Gene grumbled, eyes roaming his torso. ‘Now be a good little whore and push that vest up, I want to see you properly.’
Blushing hard, Sam obeyed, dragging at the hem of his vest and exposing himself to Gene’s gaze, somehow feeling more vulnerable than if he were completely bare with the taut stretch of gathered cotton a constricting band tight beneath his arms. He settled the flutter of discomfort he felt with a brush of his hand down his chest and stomach, returning to the familiar terrain of his trapped erection.
‘Did I say you could feel up yer dick yet?’ Gene’s growl was convincingly angry, making Sam snatch his hand away from himself. ‘Quite the greedy slut, aren’t you?’
Closing his eyes and clenching his jaw, Sam bowed his head and clawed his suddenly overactive fingers into his inner thighs, straying treacherously close to his groin. If Gene kept calling him filthy names like that, he was gonna come just from the friction of his cock throbbing against the seams of his flies.
Gene must have taken his withdrawn silence as something else though, his tone turning gentle and encouraging. ‘Not just yet, Sammy, not until we’ve got you well worked up with yer ‘ands all over that gorgeous body of yours.’
Swallowing hard, Sam coaxed his right hand up his thigh, regretfully past his desperate erection, pressing his palm hard into his bared abdomen to stop his fingers from trembling. The weight of touch was a relief to his hyper-aware skin, and he cautiously allowed his hand to wander, stroking over twitching muscle and unyielding ribs.
‘Good boy,’ Gene murmured approvingly. ‘Keep going… play with your nipples, make them hard for me…’
Figuring he must be beet-red in the face by now, Sam coaxed his hand across his chest, gasping softly to find his nipple already pebbling beneath his touch, sending darting sensations through his body and tugging a faint whimper from his lips.
‘Yeah, jus’ like that… use both hands, the other one’s getting lonely…’
Sam obeyed on instinct, and suddenly there were fingers thrumming across the sensitive flesh of both nipples.
‘Pinch them for me…’
A pleasant spike of arousal twitched through his body.
‘Again. As hard as you can stand it.’
Sam’s head rolled back, breathing quick and shallow through the pain.
‘An’ even harder than that.’
Impossibly, Sam’s fingers tightened further and he cried out brokenly, dowsed in a confusion of sensations. He writhed helplessly against the steering wheel, keenly aware of the constriction of clothing still straining across his arms and chest, his hips arching forward in search of friction.
‘Shh, okay, okay…’ Soft words, stripped of breath, pulled him carefully from the precipice. ‘Easy there, Sammy, jus’ make it all better now, make it feel good…’
The coiled tension of his body gratefully subsiding, Sam released a long, shaky breath, vaguely aware of his hands wandering with a seeming will of their own. His right hand was easing downwards, stroking and soothing each startled nerve in its path, while the left continued to tease at both nipples, slipping each to each and drawing out the lingering memory of pain playing at the edges of his arousal, soft moans pouring freely from his throat.
‘Ohh, yeah…’ Gene’s low, rumbling voice drifted to his ears. ‘You fuckin’ love that, don’t you? Can just imagine you in yer cheap, nasty flat, spread out all sweaty an’ naked on the sheets, touchin’ yourself up… bet you like to finger yourself in the arse an’ all, filthy thing like you.’
‘Oh, God… fuck.’ Sam was dangerously close, his fingers straining just behind his waistband. ‘Gene…’
‘Show me.’ Gene spoke in a desperate rush now, as though anticipating the pleading in Sam’s voice. ‘Go on, let’s see you stroking that hard, gorgeous cock, can tell yer jus’ gaggin’ for it…’
Shame long since abandoned, Sam tore at his belt and trousers with both hands, nearly sobbing with relief when the leaking head of his cock slapped across his palm the moment he had pushed the confines of clothing away. What little self-preservation Sam had left took care to spread the pre-come down his engorged length before gripping firmly and fisting himself, lost in the tight clench of fingers around his cock. He tried to control his pace, wanted to make this last, but Gene’s hands were kneading his arse and Sam was thrusting his hips again, fucking his own hand and he must be pushing forward more than back because that had to be Gene’s cock rubbing the back of his hand, leaving trails of pre-come on his skin and no wonder Gene was making those sounds at the back of his throat, so bestial and deep.
‘Pretty fuckin' greedy for it yourself, aren’t you?’ Sam growled. Snapping his hips forward, Sam gripped Gene’s cock tight against his own, pumping with both hands and gasping at the delicious friction of another man’s impossibly hard dick against his own, sweating and pulsing desperately hot. ‘Gonna make you come,’ he hissed. ‘Go on, come all over me, mark me like the dirty whore you know I am…’
Gene’s hands delved frantically beneath his trousers, gloved fingers digging possessively into his arse and holding Sam hard and still against him as he quaked into orgasm, head dropping back against the driver’s seat with a harsh growl. The flood of Gene spilling over his hands and cock dragged an answering groan from Sam’s lips and obliterated everything but the fact of Gene beneath him, shuddering and panting from a gaping mouth that begged for touch, Sam’s fingers smearing wet over his face and prising his jaw open, probing and tonguing the roof of his mouth and he could still taste scotch beneath the come and he was coming himself, shamelessly humping Gene’s lap, stifling his cries against the slick slide of Gene’s mouth against his own.
‘You filthy boy,’ Gene mumbled weakly, his lips slipping over Sam’s slowing kisses.
Sam grinned, fingers stroking Gene’s jaw, chasing the trails of semen he left with his tongue. ‘You love it,’ he purred, breathing shallow and unsteady against Gene’s ear. Hips still twitching through the faint tremors of orgasm, Sam could feel the cooling, copious mess coating his skin, making his softening cock slip sloppily over Gene’s come-smeared belly. He nudged himself backward in Gene’s lap, looking down. ‘Eurgh, what a mess.’
‘Easy with the sweet nothings there, Tyler, ‘fore you make me swoon.’ Gene cracked an eye open, tilting his head down. ‘Christ, that better not ‘ave gotten on the upholstery,’ he grumbled, reaching down to fumble at his disheveled clothes.
Rolling his eyes, Sam reached for the back of the passenger seat and dragged himself gracelessly out of Gene’s lap, wincing as his cramped leg muscles protested the sudden movement. ‘Always about the bloody car, innit?’ he grumbled. He bent his left knee to pull away completely, only to find his calf caught by a heavy grip.
‘No.’ Gene turned sideways in his seat to look down at him, strangely solemn. ‘No, it’s not.’ His hand stroked up Sam’s leg to rest on his thigh, squeezing slow as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to the side of Sam’s neck. ‘Got that?’
Wordlessly, Sam swallowed hard and nodded.
‘Good.’ Gene patted his leg and pulled back, grimacing as his eye caught his reflection in the rearview mirror. ‘What the ‘ell…’ He swiped his fingers across his chin and frowned distastefully at the traces of come smearing his gloves. ‘Oh, that’s jus’ - ah…‘
‘Mmn.’ Sam gave his wrist a reassuring squeeze, humming around the leather-clad finger in his mouth.
‘Ah.’ Instead of confusion, Gene’s gaze was now filled with secret comprehension, a knowing smirk pulling at his lips. Sam released his finger with a parting kiss to its tip, answered with a smirk of his own.
‘Time to take me home.’
Title: Drive Like a Car
Author: severinne
Rating: Brown Cortina
Warning: Explicit slash of the semi-established Sam/Gene variety; dirty talk, and alcohol abuse at the expense of a fine single malt.
Word Count: 3700 (arggh… that’s it, next time there’s a 1500 word cap)
Disclaimer: I only wish I owned Life on Mars.
Summary: If anyone recalls Sting Like I Feel from over a bleedin’ month ago, this is the sequel. Can probably be read as a stand-alone though, given that men fondling each other in a Cortina is a universal language. Or should be.
For consistency’s sake, title is, again, nicked from ‘20th Century Boy’ by T. Rex.
The inside of the Cortina had never felt so close as this.
Sam shifted uncomfortably against the gritty vinyl, stealing far too many glances at Gene’s gloved hands manipulating the gear shift and steering wheel. They were driving in silence, Gene inscrutable ever since he had joined Sam in the Cortina, tossing him his leather jacket and climbing behind the wheel with no comment on just how he had explained their early departure to the rest of the team.
Gene had put on his camelhair coat on his way out of the club, but Sam left his jacket draped across his lap for the journey - in large part because he was still sweat-soaked from dancing, among other things. In larger part because, in the three minutes he had spent waiting for Gene to fetch their coats, Sam had developed a raging hard-on. Just from waiting. Waiting to be taken home, taken to bed, where Gene was going to simply take him.
Biting hard at the inside of his lower lip, Sam held tight onto the handlebar above his window. Just because he had magically regained the recovery time of a teenager didn’t mean he had to indulge in furtive touching beneath his jacket. Gene would likely rumble him in two seconds anyway, would scold him or call him a slut, maybe punish him for it…
Sam’s fingers tightened around the handlebar, knuckles turning white.
He risked looking at Gene again, the occasional passing light revealing sharpened green eyes fixed on the road ahead and little else. Gene probably wasn’t hard, not so soon after their exchanged hand-jobs in the club’s back alley. Sam felt a whisper of shame colour his cheeks. He needed Gene to be with him in this strange new compact of theirs, needed to know they were going home together and that this wasn’t just a free lift back to another sleepless night in his shitty, desolate flat. He needed to know he wasn’t alone anymore.
‘I need a drink,’ Sam blurted out.
Gene threw him a quick glance, the corner of his mouth twisting slightly. ‘What, now?’
‘C’mon, you must have something on you…’
‘Sure, but I’m kinda busy at the mo’ tryin’ to get us home so I can - oh, shit…’ Gene broke off with a weak groan as Sam leaned in close, his hand frisking through layers of coat and suit with thorough intent, allowing his search to drift to places where he was certain Gene didn’t keep a flask, though he made some delightful discoveries in a careful investigation between Gene’s legs.
Clearly, he had underestimated the Gene Genie again. And being proven wrong had never felt so good.
Eventually growing wary of Gene’s ability to drive under these conditions, Sam gave his straining erection one more tracing finger’s worth of attention before withdrawing both his hand and a silver flask. Sam carefully craned his head back as he took a bracing swallow of scotch, sensing the familar heat of Gene’s eyes watching him as he drank.
‘Hope you were planning on sharing that,’ Gene grumbled, his voice tight.
Sam fixed him with a heated, measuring stare. ‘Afraid I draw the line at you literally drinking and driving at the same time,’ he drawled, letting his voice drop to a low purr. ‘You’d best pull over.’
The Cortina screeched to a violent halt. Sam’s body lurched in its precarious position leaning towards Gene, and he ricocheted back in even closer proximity, pressed tight to Gene’s side. Accidentally, of course.
‘Right. Give ‘er ‘ere.’ Gene reached for the flask, irritation scoring his brow as Sam playfully pulled his hand out of reach. ‘Sam…’
Enjoying himself far too much to be entirely safe, Sam smirked before taking another sip from the flask and, tilting his head, sealed his lips hard to Gene’s mouth and let the scotch flow into the kiss. A deep sound of surprise echoed into Sam’s mouth as Gene’s tongue lapped hungrily into him, greedily drinking in every trace of the single malt and drawing out a low, muffled moan from Sam’s desperate lips.
By the time their kiss breathlessly broke, Sam dazedly found himself insinuated between Gene and the steering wheel, legs awkwardly tangled across Gene’s lap. How he had worked his way into such a tight space Sam had no idea, but a careful shifting of limbs balanced out his precarious position over Gene’s body and brought their straining erections into flush contact through their collective layers of clothing. ‘Mm, you like that?’ Sam asked, and immediately flushed - God, he sounded cheap.
Gene stared hard at him, panting heavily. ‘Still thirsty,’ he growled.
Breath catching in his suddenly dry throat, Sam hastily lifted the flask and drained it sloppily, whisky spilling over his lips and down his neck even as Gene surged forward and claimed his mouth again. Sam was barely aware of the empty flask dropping from his fingers, not with the push of lips and tongue against his own, Gene’s hands on either side of his face, tilting his head to deepen the kiss, and oh, his leather-clad thumbs pressing and stroking possessively over his cheekbones, shaping him to the broad strokes of Gene’s desires.
Moaning helplessly, Sam let his mouth fall slack once Gene had drunk the last drops from his mouth, gasping through the sensation of Gene’s tongue dragging around the contours of his lips in search of the oak-rich burn of whisky, sweeping down his chin to chase the amber rivulets clinging to his heated skin. Gene’s hands pushed his head back hard, exposing his throat so he could lap at the droplets pooled in the hollow between his collarbones. The sensation of being tasted so intently made Sam want to luxuriate in every touch, made him press his face into the smoky scent of Gene’s gloved hands cradling his head, his mouth seeking and suckling at the first finger he could catch between his teeth. A harsh groan of approval and the second leather-clad digit forcing its way into his mouth alongside the first made Sam ache with need, writhing between the hard insistence of Gene’s cock beneath him and the manipulations of Gene’s gloved hands and fingers above him, moving over and into him.
‘Fuck…’ Gene breathed the obscenity against his sternum, his hands drifting away from Sam’s face and sweeping down over his torso, mapping the rolling movement of his body. ‘This that lap-dancing thing you mentioned back there?’
Sam gasped sharply as the heel of Gene’s hand brushed over the front of his uncomfortably tight trousers. ‘Could be,’ he replied breathlessly. And that had been a flippant joke, earlier in the alley with Gene’s disheveled appearance sparking off his smug inner tease, but now the very idea of performing all manner of debauched acts for his Guv was making his heart jackhammer in his chest and his cock twitch in anticipation.
With no small measure of regret, Sam dragged Gene’s roving hands away from his body, pushing them down to either side of the driver’s seat. ‘One rule with a lap dance,’ he said steadily, staring directly into Gene’s piercing eyes. ‘You keep your ‘ands to yourself. No touching.’
‘Rules?’ Gene was incredulous. ‘Figures you of all people would ruin a good bit o’ fun with yer soddin’ rules,’ he huffed under his breath.
Frowning, Sam replied by bracing his hands on the back of Gene’s seat and grinding himself hard against Gene’s erection, rolling his hips slowly to draw out the long, inarticulate sound that had taken over Gene’s grumbling over the rules. Satisfied that he had Gene thoroughly distracted now, he began to thrust with more exaggerated movements, allowing his hips to circle away as far as the steering wheel at his back would allow before rolling forward again. Sam couldn’t resist slowing whenever his own rock-hard cock met Gene’s body, rubbing feverishly against his reassuring weight before pulling back again. The solidity of Gene’s body was addictive and wonderful beneath his hands as Sam stroked over his broad shoulders and chest, pushing at the layers of his coat and suit and shirt in a desperate search for skin.
‘Wait, wait, ‘old up there.’ Sam glanced up sharply, fingers digging possessively into Gene’s waist beneath his suit, bristling at the interruption. ‘What ‘appened to that no-touching rule o’ yours?’
Sam was pleased to hear the breathless note behind Gene’s protest, and simply smirked as he tugged Gene’s shirt from his belted trousers and slipped his hands beneath layers of thin fabric to stroke heated flesh. ‘That rule only applies to you,’ he murmured. ‘Customer keeps ‘is ‘ands off, and I get to do,’ he slipped his fingers beneath the waistband of Gene’s trousers, tugging gently, ‘whatever I want.’
‘Customer, eh?’ Gene’s eyes narrowed and darkened. ‘So that makes you, what, my whore, is it?’
A scandalized shiver rushed across every inch of Sam’s skin. He closed his eyes and bit his lip to hold back the needy, pathetic whimper crawling up the back of his throat. ‘Gene…’ He meant it to sound like a warning, but even he could hear the pleading note in that single syllable, even over the blood pounding in his ears.
‘Thought so.’ Gene’s satisfied growl vibrated between them like a touch. ‘Back to work then, tart.’
‘Oh, God.’ Sam could feel his cheeks burning even as his cock throbbed hard against his flies. Ruthlessly, he forced his attention into his hands and their shaky efforts to unfasten every buckle, button and zip keeping him from touching Gene. He wanted Gene looking every bit as debauched as Sam felt, wanted his body exposed to every brush of hips, thighs and hands that Sam could no longer stop. Breathing heavily into the crook of his neck, Sam rocked restlessly in Gene’s lap, bracing his hands against the roof of the Cortina for leverage as he tilted his hips and teased down, up, then down again, relishing the press of Gene’s cock against his arse, the enticing brush of his exposed belly against the straining bulge in his trousers, the firm squeeze of a hand around his thigh…
Sam felt a low, warning growl rumbling in his chest, and stifled it around a sharp bite to Gene’s neck, teeth clenching in satisfaction at the sound of the other man’s shocked gasp. ‘I said, no touching,’ he cautioned in a low rasp, mouth pressed to Gene’s ear, tongue darting out to gently reward the hard tremor that shook the body beneath him.
‘Can’t ‘elp it,’ Gene panted harshly, though his hand did lift from Sam’s thigh. ‘What with you movin’ like that, jus’ beggin’ to be touched…’ He twisted his shoulders, shifting his head back and fixing Sam with a hard, calculating glare. ‘Guess you’ll ‘ave to do it instead.’
‘What?’ Sam gazed blankly into Gene’s flashing green eyes, more than a little distracted by the lush length of his lashes.
‘Want to see you touch yourself.’ A darkly determined look passed over Gene’s face even as he stretched his arms up and folded his hands behind his head in a gesture of affected casualness. ‘Body like yours needs a proper seein’-to, so best get to it, cos if you won’t, to hell with yer damn rules.’
Sam shuddered at the threat behind Gene’s heated words. He was sorely tempted to push Gene to that very point, quite literally force his hand and happily reap the consequences, especially if it averted the embarrassment he was already feeling at the idea of pleasuring himself for an audience. He could let Gene win this round, surrender to the man in the driver’s seat.
Except that Sam was still on top of the man in the driver’s seat. He was still in control, he told himself with a rush of fierce pride. An ironic smile quirked his lips as he considered the situation - doing what Gene wanted to keep to his own rule, to maintain the upper hand.
Guess that’s why we’re both in the driver’s seat, Sam thought with detached amusement as he leaned back and felt the steering wheel digging into his lower back. Taking a slow, steadying breath, he let his clenched fists relax downward from their bracing position against the roof and settle uncertainly at his belt. His fingers brushed over the tented front of his trousers, making him gasp involuntarily at the welcome stimulation of his own, hesitant touch.
‘That’s right…’ Gene was watching his hands with undisguised lust, his mouth gaping around soft yet shallow breaths. ‘Go on, Sammy, show me how much you want it…’
Sam’s fingers stuttered, shame making him hesitate. ‘Tell me what to do,’ he pleaded, low and clear.
Gene sucked in a sharp breath, eyes widening. ‘Sam…’ His Adam’s apple bobbed, slowly, once.
‘Tell me what you want to see me do to myself.’ Sam let his hips roll a single, slow rotation in Gene’s lap, stroking down his own thigh and letting his hand fall to rest over the heavy heat of Gene’s cock, rubbing a fingertip into the drop of pre-come beading at the slit. ‘Tell me exactly what you want me to do. Tell me how and where I should touch myself.’ With a heart-hammering, delicious thrill of arousal at his own daring, he added, in his lowest tone, ‘Anything to please the client.’
Gene’s hips bucked beneath him, a heavy moan slipping past his slack lips. The dangerous fire in his eyes was the same as earlier, back at the club when Gene had watched him dance, making him feel both deeply worshipped and downright sleazy. ‘Unbutton your shirt,’ he gasped finally, eyes flicking downward. ‘Slowly, like. Don’ want to shoot me load all over you jus’ yet.’
‘Plenty of time for that later,’ Sam said, reaching up and skimming his fingers over the line of shirt buttons, noting the two already open at his collar, the one he had lost in the alley earlier, ‘sir,’ he added in a whisper, pushing the small plastic buttons through their holes.
Gene growled. Sam grinned, feeling Gene’s cock twitch where it pressed against Sam’s inner thigh. ‘Decided you like playin’ the cheap prozzie after all, did you?’
Sam fingered the unbuttoned edges of his shirt, breathing hard through the renewed flash of arousal blurring the edges of his control. ‘Only for you,’ he said, drawing his shirt open and down his shoulders to his elbows, letting the thin polyester gather there while he awaited further instructions, holding his breath.
‘Too damn right,’ Gene grumbled, eyes roaming his torso. ‘Now be a good little whore and push that vest up, I want to see you properly.’
Blushing hard, Sam obeyed, dragging at the hem of his vest and exposing himself to Gene’s gaze, somehow feeling more vulnerable than if he were completely bare with the taut stretch of gathered cotton a constricting band tight beneath his arms. He settled the flutter of discomfort he felt with a brush of his hand down his chest and stomach, returning to the familiar terrain of his trapped erection.
‘Did I say you could feel up yer dick yet?’ Gene’s growl was convincingly angry, making Sam snatch his hand away from himself. ‘Quite the greedy slut, aren’t you?’
Closing his eyes and clenching his jaw, Sam bowed his head and clawed his suddenly overactive fingers into his inner thighs, straying treacherously close to his groin. If Gene kept calling him filthy names like that, he was gonna come just from the friction of his cock throbbing against the seams of his flies.
Gene must have taken his withdrawn silence as something else though, his tone turning gentle and encouraging. ‘Not just yet, Sammy, not until we’ve got you well worked up with yer ‘ands all over that gorgeous body of yours.’
Swallowing hard, Sam coaxed his right hand up his thigh, regretfully past his desperate erection, pressing his palm hard into his bared abdomen to stop his fingers from trembling. The weight of touch was a relief to his hyper-aware skin, and he cautiously allowed his hand to wander, stroking over twitching muscle and unyielding ribs.
‘Good boy,’ Gene murmured approvingly. ‘Keep going… play with your nipples, make them hard for me…’
Figuring he must be beet-red in the face by now, Sam coaxed his hand across his chest, gasping softly to find his nipple already pebbling beneath his touch, sending darting sensations through his body and tugging a faint whimper from his lips.
‘Yeah, jus’ like that… use both hands, the other one’s getting lonely…’
Sam obeyed on instinct, and suddenly there were fingers thrumming across the sensitive flesh of both nipples.
‘Pinch them for me…’
A pleasant spike of arousal twitched through his body.
‘Again. As hard as you can stand it.’
Sam’s head rolled back, breathing quick and shallow through the pain.
‘An’ even harder than that.’
Impossibly, Sam’s fingers tightened further and he cried out brokenly, dowsed in a confusion of sensations. He writhed helplessly against the steering wheel, keenly aware of the constriction of clothing still straining across his arms and chest, his hips arching forward in search of friction.
‘Shh, okay, okay…’ Soft words, stripped of breath, pulled him carefully from the precipice. ‘Easy there, Sammy, jus’ make it all better now, make it feel good…’
The coiled tension of his body gratefully subsiding, Sam released a long, shaky breath, vaguely aware of his hands wandering with a seeming will of their own. His right hand was easing downwards, stroking and soothing each startled nerve in its path, while the left continued to tease at both nipples, slipping each to each and drawing out the lingering memory of pain playing at the edges of his arousal, soft moans pouring freely from his throat.
‘Ohh, yeah…’ Gene’s low, rumbling voice drifted to his ears. ‘You fuckin’ love that, don’t you? Can just imagine you in yer cheap, nasty flat, spread out all sweaty an’ naked on the sheets, touchin’ yourself up… bet you like to finger yourself in the arse an’ all, filthy thing like you.’
‘Oh, God… fuck.’ Sam was dangerously close, his fingers straining just behind his waistband. ‘Gene…’
‘Show me.’ Gene spoke in a desperate rush now, as though anticipating the pleading in Sam’s voice. ‘Go on, let’s see you stroking that hard, gorgeous cock, can tell yer jus’ gaggin’ for it…’
Shame long since abandoned, Sam tore at his belt and trousers with both hands, nearly sobbing with relief when the leaking head of his cock slapped across his palm the moment he had pushed the confines of clothing away. What little self-preservation Sam had left took care to spread the pre-come down his engorged length before gripping firmly and fisting himself, lost in the tight clench of fingers around his cock. He tried to control his pace, wanted to make this last, but Gene’s hands were kneading his arse and Sam was thrusting his hips again, fucking his own hand and he must be pushing forward more than back because that had to be Gene’s cock rubbing the back of his hand, leaving trails of pre-come on his skin and no wonder Gene was making those sounds at the back of his throat, so bestial and deep.
‘Pretty fuckin' greedy for it yourself, aren’t you?’ Sam growled. Snapping his hips forward, Sam gripped Gene’s cock tight against his own, pumping with both hands and gasping at the delicious friction of another man’s impossibly hard dick against his own, sweating and pulsing desperately hot. ‘Gonna make you come,’ he hissed. ‘Go on, come all over me, mark me like the dirty whore you know I am…’
Gene’s hands delved frantically beneath his trousers, gloved fingers digging possessively into his arse and holding Sam hard and still against him as he quaked into orgasm, head dropping back against the driver’s seat with a harsh growl. The flood of Gene spilling over his hands and cock dragged an answering groan from Sam’s lips and obliterated everything but the fact of Gene beneath him, shuddering and panting from a gaping mouth that begged for touch, Sam’s fingers smearing wet over his face and prising his jaw open, probing and tonguing the roof of his mouth and he could still taste scotch beneath the come and he was coming himself, shamelessly humping Gene’s lap, stifling his cries against the slick slide of Gene’s mouth against his own.
‘You filthy boy,’ Gene mumbled weakly, his lips slipping over Sam’s slowing kisses.
Sam grinned, fingers stroking Gene’s jaw, chasing the trails of semen he left with his tongue. ‘You love it,’ he purred, breathing shallow and unsteady against Gene’s ear. Hips still twitching through the faint tremors of orgasm, Sam could feel the cooling, copious mess coating his skin, making his softening cock slip sloppily over Gene’s come-smeared belly. He nudged himself backward in Gene’s lap, looking down. ‘Eurgh, what a mess.’
‘Easy with the sweet nothings there, Tyler, ‘fore you make me swoon.’ Gene cracked an eye open, tilting his head down. ‘Christ, that better not ‘ave gotten on the upholstery,’ he grumbled, reaching down to fumble at his disheveled clothes.
Rolling his eyes, Sam reached for the back of the passenger seat and dragged himself gracelessly out of Gene’s lap, wincing as his cramped leg muscles protested the sudden movement. ‘Always about the bloody car, innit?’ he grumbled. He bent his left knee to pull away completely, only to find his calf caught by a heavy grip.
‘No.’ Gene turned sideways in his seat to look down at him, strangely solemn. ‘No, it’s not.’ His hand stroked up Sam’s leg to rest on his thigh, squeezing slow as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to the side of Sam’s neck. ‘Got that?’
Wordlessly, Sam swallowed hard and nodded.
‘Good.’ Gene patted his leg and pulled back, grimacing as his eye caught his reflection in the rearview mirror. ‘What the ‘ell…’ He swiped his fingers across his chin and frowned distastefully at the traces of come smearing his gloves. ‘Oh, that’s jus’ - ah…‘
‘Mmn.’ Sam gave his wrist a reassuring squeeze, humming around the leather-clad finger in his mouth.
‘Ah.’ Instead of confusion, Gene’s gaze was now filled with secret comprehension, a knowing smirk pulling at his lips. Sam released his finger with a parting kiss to its tip, answered with a smirk of his own.
‘Time to take me home.’