Fic: Worthless (Sam/Gene, Brown cortina)
Look at me, posting two fics in one day! This one's for vicfarmer, who requested something along these lines. Sadly it's not quite as long as you wanted, but then it's not as short as I wanted, so hopefully that balances things out! XD
Title: Worthless
Author: bistokids
Word count: 836
Pairing: Gene/Sam (slash)
Rating: Brown Cortina
Summary: A slice of domestic life. Emo alert.
“Jesus, what a bloody day!” Gene crashed through the door of the flat, which they were unofficially sharing now, with his usual lack of panache. Sam glanced round from the cooker for a brief moment before returning his attention to the casserole he was meticulously preparing. Anger flared briefly in him before he banked it down - his own day had been one of horror and blood, as Gene well knew, and he would have liked nothing more than to settle down and pour his traumas into a sympathetic ear. One look at Gene’s face, though, told him this was not about to happen.
“Why don’t you pour yourself a drink?” he said with studied calm. “This’ll be a while yet.” He could feel Gene’s gaze resting hotly upon him as he bent to put the casserole into the oven, deliberately adding a provocative wiggle to the move. Sure enough, when he straightened and turned, Gene was staring at him with an unmistakeable combination of anger and lust. Sam shivered with fear-laced anticipation. Gene in this mood was unpredictable at best.
“Get over here.” Gene’s tone brooked no argument, and Sam complied wordlessly, moving to stand before the larger man, searching the implacable face for any hint of affection or tenderness. Impulsively, he put out a hand to stroke Gene’s hair, hoping against hope that the soothing gesture would be accepted. A mistake. With one fluid move, the speed as ever surprising for such a big man, Gene was out of the chair, and Sam gasped as he felt his wrist grabbed and twisted high and hard against his shoulder blade, forcing him forward.
The rough hands propelled him towards the bed, throwing him onto the mattress with enough force to knock the breath out of him. Before he could recover, he felt his own hands being yanked above his head, and the bite of metal against the tender skin of his wrists. He lay still, waiting, the thrill of arousal shooting through him.
“You tart,” Gene growled softly against his ear, his bulk pressing down to cover Sam. “You want this, don’t you?” Sam could hear the barely perceptible tremor, the request for permission behind the harsh words, and he turned his head, smiling as easily as he could from his restricted position.
“Yes, Gene. I want this.”
“Told you. Little slut. Begging for it, aren’t you?” Gene’s satisfaction was evident as he reached below, unfastening Sam’s jeans and yanking them down around his knees. Sam whimpered softly as Gene’s hand brushed lightly across overheated bare skin, then drew back to deliver a ringing slap. And another. Faster and faster the blows came, piling on top of one another until Sam’s arse was burning, his cock harder than he could have imagined possible. “Gene, please...”
Gene paused, hand still drawn back for the next strike. “What?”
From nowhere, misery welled up inside Sam, tears prickling at the backs of his eyelids. Always the same - the roughness, the games, when all he really wanted was some - well, romance, he supposed. Affection. Gentle, loving sex that didn’t need excuses. He imagined for a moment trying to explain this to Gene, and a strangled noise, halfway between a laugh and a sob, escaped him. His life expectancy would shorten to seconds.
Arrested by the sound, Gene’s tone changed. “Something the matter, Tyler? You all right?” The anger had vanished, leaving something much gentler in its wake. The transition was too much for Sam, who was unable to prevent the tears escaping. “No, it’s…I’m fine. Really,” he tried, but Gene wasn’t fooled.
“Hang on a sec.” He unlocked the handcuffs, stood back to allow Sam room to straighten himself up, then sat back down next to him on the narrow bed.
“Try again. And none of your ‘I’m fine’ bollocks. Come on, Gladys, spit it out.”
Sam paused, struggling to find the words. “I…it’s just that…sometimes I want…” He grimaced, frustrated. “Oh, this is impossible.”
Gene moved closer, slipping an arm casually round Sam’s shoulder. “It’s OK, Sam.” He pause. “Look, I’m sorry, all right?”
The shadow of a smile appeared on Sam’s face, and he shook his head as if trying to clear it. “Must be hearing things. I could have sworn you just said…”
“Don’t push your luck, Gladys.” Gene’s rough snarl was belied by the widening grin. “You heard me. You only get that once.” He shifted closer, bringing his other arm round and scooting them both down the bed until they were lying pressed together, breath mingling in the stillness of the gathering twilight. “It’s been a bloody rough day. For both of us. And I’m knackered.”
Sam nodded in understanding, lay silent, soaking in the companionship, feeling the tension draining away from them both until the pair of them were on the edge of sleep.
Suddenly, Gene sniffed. “What the bloody hell’s that smell?”
Sam sat bolt upright. “Shit. The casserole!” Leaping from the bed, he raced to retrieve the remains of their burning supper.
Title: Worthless
Author: bistokids
Word count: 836
Pairing: Gene/Sam (slash)
Rating: Brown Cortina
Summary: A slice of domestic life. Emo alert.
“Jesus, what a bloody day!” Gene crashed through the door of the flat, which they were unofficially sharing now, with his usual lack of panache. Sam glanced round from the cooker for a brief moment before returning his attention to the casserole he was meticulously preparing. Anger flared briefly in him before he banked it down - his own day had been one of horror and blood, as Gene well knew, and he would have liked nothing more than to settle down and pour his traumas into a sympathetic ear. One look at Gene’s face, though, told him this was not about to happen.
“Why don’t you pour yourself a drink?” he said with studied calm. “This’ll be a while yet.” He could feel Gene’s gaze resting hotly upon him as he bent to put the casserole into the oven, deliberately adding a provocative wiggle to the move. Sure enough, when he straightened and turned, Gene was staring at him with an unmistakeable combination of anger and lust. Sam shivered with fear-laced anticipation. Gene in this mood was unpredictable at best.
“Get over here.” Gene’s tone brooked no argument, and Sam complied wordlessly, moving to stand before the larger man, searching the implacable face for any hint of affection or tenderness. Impulsively, he put out a hand to stroke Gene’s hair, hoping against hope that the soothing gesture would be accepted. A mistake. With one fluid move, the speed as ever surprising for such a big man, Gene was out of the chair, and Sam gasped as he felt his wrist grabbed and twisted high and hard against his shoulder blade, forcing him forward.
The rough hands propelled him towards the bed, throwing him onto the mattress with enough force to knock the breath out of him. Before he could recover, he felt his own hands being yanked above his head, and the bite of metal against the tender skin of his wrists. He lay still, waiting, the thrill of arousal shooting through him.
“You tart,” Gene growled softly against his ear, his bulk pressing down to cover Sam. “You want this, don’t you?” Sam could hear the barely perceptible tremor, the request for permission behind the harsh words, and he turned his head, smiling as easily as he could from his restricted position.
“Yes, Gene. I want this.”
“Told you. Little slut. Begging for it, aren’t you?” Gene’s satisfaction was evident as he reached below, unfastening Sam’s jeans and yanking them down around his knees. Sam whimpered softly as Gene’s hand brushed lightly across overheated bare skin, then drew back to deliver a ringing slap. And another. Faster and faster the blows came, piling on top of one another until Sam’s arse was burning, his cock harder than he could have imagined possible. “Gene, please...”
Gene paused, hand still drawn back for the next strike. “What?”
From nowhere, misery welled up inside Sam, tears prickling at the backs of his eyelids. Always the same - the roughness, the games, when all he really wanted was some - well, romance, he supposed. Affection. Gentle, loving sex that didn’t need excuses. He imagined for a moment trying to explain this to Gene, and a strangled noise, halfway between a laugh and a sob, escaped him. His life expectancy would shorten to seconds.
Arrested by the sound, Gene’s tone changed. “Something the matter, Tyler? You all right?” The anger had vanished, leaving something much gentler in its wake. The transition was too much for Sam, who was unable to prevent the tears escaping. “No, it’s…I’m fine. Really,” he tried, but Gene wasn’t fooled.
“Hang on a sec.” He unlocked the handcuffs, stood back to allow Sam room to straighten himself up, then sat back down next to him on the narrow bed.
“Try again. And none of your ‘I’m fine’ bollocks. Come on, Gladys, spit it out.”
Sam paused, struggling to find the words. “I…it’s just that…sometimes I want…” He grimaced, frustrated. “Oh, this is impossible.”
Gene moved closer, slipping an arm casually round Sam’s shoulder. “It’s OK, Sam.” He pause. “Look, I’m sorry, all right?”
The shadow of a smile appeared on Sam’s face, and he shook his head as if trying to clear it. “Must be hearing things. I could have sworn you just said…”
“Don’t push your luck, Gladys.” Gene’s rough snarl was belied by the widening grin. “You heard me. You only get that once.” He shifted closer, bringing his other arm round and scooting them both down the bed until they were lying pressed together, breath mingling in the stillness of the gathering twilight. “It’s been a bloody rough day. For both of us. And I’m knackered.”
Sam nodded in understanding, lay silent, soaking in the companionship, feeling the tension draining away from them both until the pair of them were on the edge of sleep.
Suddenly, Gene sniffed. “What the bloody hell’s that smell?”
Sam sat bolt upright. “Shit. The casserole!” Leaping from the bed, he raced to retrieve the remains of their burning supper.