[Fic] Angel of Death - chapter two
All chapters found here.
Angel of Death - part two
Author: lunadeath02
Pairings: Gene/Sam, Ray/Chris, Sam/Annie
Rating: Brown Cortina (NC-17)
Warnings: slash, spanking, slight het, death (those in purgatory or otherwise), slight angst, some dark themes, and a play on the afterlife
Notes: Sequel to Love on Mars. This won’t make sense unless you read that first. This is written for entertainment only; the subject shouldn’t be taken seriously.
Summary: In death, there are plenty of beginnings for Sam Tyler, and not just in relationships but also with his newfound part-time job as a Guardian Angel.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters; the BBC and Kudos do.
~**~
Sam and Gene went to the pub after work, and Sam was only too glad to be there this time. Gene got the drinks for them and they sat in their usual spot in the corner. Sam noticed that Annie was the only one from their team that wasn’t there. He wanted to inquire of her whereabouts with Phyllis, but the need to talk to Gene about what just happened in the Super’s office couldn’t be put off.
“So, wanna talk about it here or wait until later when we’re packin’ yer stuff?”
Sam set his drink down and blinked. “I’m packing my stuff tonight?”
“Why not?” said Gene, shrugging one shoulder. He took a long draught of his whisky chaser and then sighed. “Ahh, that hits the spot.”
“Are you so sure I should be moving in now? I mean what would the others that don’t know about us say?”
“It’s really none of their business why we’re living together, Sam. Plenty of people have flat-mates, yeah?”
Sam thought on it. Honestly, it wouldn’t be too bad living with Gene. He might as well get used to doing so anyway, since they were getting ‘married’. Sam smiled a little as the image of them being a married couple surfaced, sipping his drink. “I suppose you’re right.”
“Of course I’m right. I thought you knew that by now.”
Sam smirked. “Yes, all right. I’ll tell you what Rathbone told me in his office, but you must keep it to yourself. He doesn’t want me telling anyone.”
“Of course ‘e doesn’t. The Super’s a crafty one, ‘e is. Well, come on, spill. What did he tell ya?” Gene lifted his glass to his mouth and drank.
Without missing a beat, Sam said, “He wants to help me make DCI.”
Gene did a spit take.
“Oi!” Sam gasped, standing from the spray of whisky. “Watch the leather!”
“He told you he would ‘elp you make DCI?” Gene repeated, shocked, but then laughed. “Why the bloody ‘ell would he go and do a thing like that? Demons are supposed to discourage that kind of thing. Especially against Guardian Angels.”
“I dunno,” Sam said soberly, sitting back down and wishing for a towel or something to wipe the whisky and Gene spit from his jacket. “It did seem rather out of the ordinary that he’d suddenly change his mind about me, said he’d give me some odd little jobs here and there. …He also told me that he knew he couldn’t make me grow horns easily because of how high level a Guardian I am.”
“No, it wouldn’t be easy for him, but he’s got enough freakin’ patience to pull it off, the slimy git.” Gene finished off what was left of his drink and set the glass down hard. “He’s after you, Sammy, so be careful. I don’t want to become married to a Demon.”
“I know, Guv. I’ll be careful.” Sam smiled, despite the impending dooming feeling. Lately, just the mention of the imminent marriage to Gene Hunt had been a bright light in his heart. He felt so good with the thought, he wanted to take out his wings and fly. But because he was around lost souls in the pub, he couldn’t.
Gene stared at him for a while and then nodded, both pleased with Sam’s answer and the look on his fiancé’s face. “Good. Just keep yer eyes and ears open, Sam.” He scooted his empty tumbler toward him. “Yer round?”
Sam smirked. He finished the rest of his own drink in two more swallows and then stood to get them more.
~**~
Gene drove them to Sam’s flat, and once there he went to the car’s boot, opened it, and produced a few cardboard boxes. He grinned at Sam, and Sam smiled softly. It never ceased to amaze him how Gene could anticipate his thoughts like this, even if he himself continued to deny them.
“Time fer my new Missus to be where ‘e belongs,” Gene winked. Sam blushed from being called his Missus.
“Are you sure we should be moving in together now? What if Rathbone finds out about us? We might lose our jobs.”
“Don’t you worry about that, Sam. As far as everyone’s concerned, we’re just mates sharing a ‘ouse. He’d have no evidence to suggest otherwise.”
“Unless he finds our marriage contract once we’re finally married.”
“Quit worrying, Sam. He’d have to have a bloody good reason to search our ‘ouse anyway, and there’s no way he’d be able to get a warrant to do such a thing since we’re coppers and not criminals. ‘Ere, ‘old this.” Gene put one of the larger boxes into Sam’s arms.
“Our house,” grinned Sam, clutching the box to his chest. “That sounds so good.”
“It does, doesn’t it?”
Once inside Sam’s flat, they set the empty boxes down on Sam’s bed, which wasn’t going with them. It was way too small and creeky, and they both feared that one more hard bounce on it will send them straight through the mattress and on the floor.
“This’ll be fun to get out of yer flat,” said Gene sarcastically as he patted the top of the television set. “It’ll probably do me back in.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll help you with that. ‘Ere, help me wrap my dishes up in these newspapers in the meantime.”
Gene had wandered into Sam’s bathroom. “In a minute, Sam. Let’s get yer girly toiletries packed first. We might not finish packing everything tonight, but at least you’ll have the important things with ya.”
“I don’t have that much stuff, Gene. I’m sure we can get it all packed in no time tonight.” Sam carefully wrapped one of his plates in a newspaper ream and set it into one box.
Gene came out of the bathroom a minute later with his arms full of Sam’s soaps, shaving cream, deodorants, and other items. “Blimey, Gladys, no wonder you always smell so girly.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “It’s called keeping clean and nice smelling, not girly. Come on, ‘elp me with these now. We’ll pack those things later.”
“We’re not even married yet and yer already givin’ me orders.”
Sam chuckled. “Get used to it.”
They packed things up in silence for the next half hour, except for the couple times Gene had to ask him questions. Sam ended up packing his kitchen things by himself, but now that he thought about it, it was probably best if he did it on his own; Gene might drop and break one.
Gene just finished with packing all of Sam’s bathroom supplies and then started on Sam’s wardrobe. There wasn’t too much to pack in that either, but it looked like most of Sam’s clothing consisted of different colored button up shirts. Gene held out one of them, and Sam looked at him.
“I remember this shirt,” said Gene. He brought the red, pink, and blue striped shirt to his face and sniffed it.
Sam laughed. “Oi, I’m right here to sniff if you wanna sniff me.”
Gene grinned. “Oh?” In a couple strides Gene had Sam in a bear hug and buried his face into Sam’s neck, inhaling deeply. Then Gene snuffled noisily along his neck, and Sam found himself giggling. Gene’s hands moved from his back to his waist, and then he was running his hands up and down Sam’s sides. Sam gripped Gene’s shoulders, tilted his head back, and let Gene touch and smell him all he wanted.
“Yes,” said Gene softly. “Definitely a girly scent on ya, Gladys.”
“Oh shut up,” moaned Sam. He knew that Gene was joking, and that what Gene was mostly smelling on him was ‘cleanliness’, other than the way Gene smelt most of the time: like scotch and smoke.
Gene stopped sniffing him and gently began to place soft kisses along Sam’s neck and the bit of shoulder muscle showing. Gene moved Sam’s shirt and jacket out of the away so he could get at more skin. Sam brought his hands up from Gene’s shoulders to tangle into his hair. “Oh, Gene.”
“I want to taste you, Sam… may I?”
“Do we…” Sam gasped when Gene nibbled a bit too hard on his collarbone. “…have time?”
“We’ll make time,” growled Gene. He quickly got Sam out of his leather jacket, unbuttoned his shirt and then pushed up his vest, running his fingers over Sam’s chest and stomach. Sam instinctively sucked in his gut, leaning back against the kitchen counter. When Gene undid his belt and unzipped his fly, Sam widened his stance better. Gene cupped Sam’s balls through the jeans as he mouthed Sam’s swelling cock through his underpants. Sam let out a small gasp, breath coming in faster. He looked down and the sight of Gene kneeling before him, gently lipping the head of his cock through his pants made him even harder.
Gene moved his hand from Sam’s balls to the area he knew was Sam’s arsehole. He palmed it harshly, and Sam was whimpering and wishing his jeans were off. Gene seemed to have read his mind, because then he tugged his jeans and pants down until they were around his ankles, and his cock sprung out and smacked Gene in the cheek.
Grinning, Gene grabbed the base of Sam’s cock in one hand and gently pressed his finger on his other hand into Sam’s arse. Sam would have bucked his hips but he was afraid he would trip because of his trousers around his ankles. Gene helped one of his feet out, widened his legs more, and then moved his mouth from the head of Sam’s cock to the underside of his balls. Sam moaned his appreciation, combing his fingers through Gene’s hair.
“This would be easier if you were on yer back like a good wifey, Sammy.”
“And what if I wasn’t a ‘good wifey’?”
Gene looked up at him, and Sam kept his defiant face even though his heart was thudding madly in his chest. He had no idea why he said that; normally he thought things through before letting his mouth run, but around Gene sometimes he forgot.
“Then I guess you get a good ol’ fashioned whollaping.”
Sam met Gene’s gleaming eyes with his own. “I’d like to see you try.”
And then before Sam knew it, he was being dragged over to his armchair and flung over Gene’s lap, his trousers and underpants left on the floor. He struggled, not sure if doing this sort of thing now was a good idea, but at the first sting of Gene’s hand on his buttock he found himself surrendering and going limp. Gene knew that his arse was one of his weaknesses, and not only did groping it produce good results, so was the feel of a hard, calloused hand hitting the round, soft flesh and making it red.
Gene laid one arm around Sam’s back as if he were afraid Sam might try wiggling away, as he swatted Sam with his right hand. After a few gentle hits, he put more force into it. Sam gasped, growing rock hard against Gene’s lap and unable to stop himself from spreading his legs. The next swat landed near Sam’s ball sac and it made Sam’s cock jump.
Gene paused for a moment to admire his handiwork. Gently, he stroked the red handprint developing on Sam’s left butt cheek. “Gonna be a good wifey now?” His voice was lower now, raspier.
Sam panted, unsure how to answer at first. He gripped the fabric of Gene’s trousers as he thought on how to react, but then Gene’s hand came down again, stinging, and Sam gasped sharply, and then moaned when Gene pushed a finger inside of him. Gene moved the digit around, finding Sam’s prostate, making Sam wiggle and whine on his lap, before slipping it out and moving Sam so that he was now sitting in his lap with his back against his chest.
“Sam,” Gene whispered into Sam’s ear, breath hot, “You WILL be a good Missus now and sit on my cock.” Gene nipped at the skin below his ear. “Am I making myself clear?”
“Perfectly,” Sam sighed. Without being told twice, Sam placed his feet on the arms of the chair, raised his arse a little, located Gene’s cock under him, and gently penetrated himself on it. Sam held his breath as he felt it stretch him, a little painfully at first, but then it was sliding in perfectly. Sam let out the breath he was holding, and moaned, feeling just how full he was. He sat there, adjusting to the feel of Gene inside him, before trying to move. Gene grasped the underside of Sam’s thighs and helped him bounce up and down, slowly. Gene kissed along Sam’s neck, tasting salt, and Sam kept his eyes closed and his mouth gaping as the feel of Gene filling him again and again washed over him. Sam raised his arms up to clasp behind Gene’s head, turned it toward him, and captured his lips.
It almost done Gene in. He stopped, not wanting to finish this way (no matter how flexible Sam was), and pulled Sam completely off his cock and stood. In a flurry, Sam understood, and he turned so that he was facedown on the armchair, holding himself steady with his elbows, legs spread, and arse in the air. Gene pushed him forward until his knees were smashed into the sides of the cushion and arse lowered slightly. One thrust and he was fully seated within Sam again. Sam couldn’t keep quiet as Gene fucked him hard and fast, rocking the armchair back and forth off the floor. Sam hung onto the arms of the chair when Gene’s thrusts become wilder, and then he was shaking and coming inside him, groaning Sam’s name between his shoulder blades.
When Gene pulled out finally, Sam turned and sat back down in the armchair. Gene fell to his knees and sucked Sam’s cock into his mouth. The bloody bastard was so damn beautiful it nearly made his wings pop out. Sam wrapped his legs around Gene’s shoulders, heels digging into his back, as he softly murmured Gene’s name and ran his fingers through his hair. Gene looked at him while he sucked, and Sam’s eyes blazed with undisguised bliss and emotion.
“More, deeper…” Sam moaned, thrusting his hips up into Gene’s mouth, and Gene found he couldn’t disobey. He sucked deeper, faster, and soon Sam was coming in his mouth, breath shuddering and legs shaking. Gene swallowed without being told.
Sam sighed, completely sated. “Love you, Gene.”
Gene smiled softly. “Me too, Sammy.”
~**~
The next day, there was a manila folder on Sam’s desk with his name on it, marked ‘urgent’. Sam looked around the room to see if anyone was watching, then sat down and opened the folder.
Inside was a person’s file and mug shot. It looked like an old case, almost like it was unsolvable, but as Sam read through the report it didn’t seem very hard to decipher after all. The man, Louie Black, was charged with theft, attempted murder, and resisting arrest.
He looked up when he felt eyes on him, and his gaze met Gene’s through the office blinds. Gene gestured his head to indicate he wanted to see him inside. Sam left the file on his desk, knowing it’ll go untouched. No one in CID wanted to voluntarily do work, so they left everything on Sam’s desk alone.
Once he walked into his DCI’s office, Gene handed him a glass of scotch. Sam sipped it to help calm his nerves. His fiancé really was getting to know him well.
“So, you’ve been given a special assignment already then?” he nodded in the direction of Sam’s desk through the office window.
“Yeah,” said Sam. “Apparently.”
“Is it a solo project, then?”
Sam shrugged. “Dunno. He didn’t say specifically that the cases he gives me were strictly solo. Unless he figured I would do them alone since he said that they’re my odd jobs.”
Gene walked around to the other side of his desk and sat. “I don’t like it, Sammy. It just doesn’t feel right. It stinks of old Demon piss.”
Sam wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Yeah, I know, but he’s my-our-superior officer, innit ‘e? I gotta do as he says.”
Gene grunted in agreement. “Still, doesn’t mean we gotta let him win, eh? He may be sly and cunning and devious, but us Guardian Angels recognize that and can stop it before anything worse ‘appens.”
Sam grinned. “Right.” Then he sobered immediately. “So, any thoughts?” He sipped his scotch.
Gene hummed thoughtfully. “Go along with it for now,” he finally said. “Get a grasp of what’s going on, and report to me and only me, Sam. That way we can ‘ead Rathbone off at the past.”
Sam chuckled at his Guv’s western slang use. “Yes, Guv.” He felt marginally better than before. “Solo, then?”
“Yeah, solo. But take a police radio and an unmarked car. At the slightest sign of danger radio the station and have Phyllis get me. I’ll be waiting.”
“Won’t be at a darts tournament, then?” Sam said cheekily.
“Not if I don’t want a dead boyfriend.” Gene’s eyes softened. “Good luck, Sam.”
~**~
Sam stepped out of the unmarked police car, radio in hand. The suspect was located on the sixth floor of the apartment building, room 606. Once he was standing in front of Black’s apartment door, Sam pounded on it, mindful not to shout out ‘police’ this time.
The door opened and there stood Louie Black. He looked to be in his fifties, hair graying as well as his mustache. It was him all right, but a much older version than the one in the file.
“Yes, may I help you?” he asked Sam.
Sam produced his police badge. “Detective Inspector Tyler. I’m afraid you’ll have to come down to the station with me.”
“What for?” Black said, looking outraged. “What’d I do?”
“You know what you’ve done, Mr. Black.” Sam took out his handcuffs. “So, please cooperate this time and put your hands behind your back…” Sam was about to read him his rights, but Black interrupted him.
“But I’m innocent! I swear!” he protested. “You people figured that out and released me!”
“Not according to the files I have. So, are you coming along quietly or do I need to use force?” Sam raised his police radio in warning.
“You can’t do this to me!” Black persisted. “I’m innocent!”
“Evidence suggests otherwise, sir. Now then, you do not have to say anything, but it may harm… Oi!”
Louie Black turned and ran toward the sitting room window. He opened it and screamed for help, announcing to those listening to him in the street below that he’s being arrested on false charges. Sam ran to stop him from shouting and to close the window, but when the man turned around he was suddenly frightened-eyes wide in horror, mouth gaping open, looking as though he was seeing a ghost or a monster-“Oh my God, no, get away!”-And then started to fall backwards out the window.
“Watch it!” Sam tried to grab him before he fell out completely, but the shirt in his hand ripped and the suspect fell out the window and down to the street below. “No!” Sam screamed, unable to do anything but watch in horror. The people in the street saw this and screamed.
Louie Black died when he hit the tarmac, and Sam heard the sickening crunch of something breaking. Some bystanders were pointing up at him and some ran, unable to handle seeing a crumpled up and bloody body.
Sam felt his heart plummet into his stomach as he stared down at Black’s dead body. “Shit…”
TBC
Angel of Death - part two
Author: lunadeath02
Pairings: Gene/Sam, Ray/Chris, Sam/Annie
Rating: Brown Cortina (NC-17)
Warnings: slash, spanking, slight het, death (those in purgatory or otherwise), slight angst, some dark themes, and a play on the afterlife
Notes: Sequel to Love on Mars. This won’t make sense unless you read that first. This is written for entertainment only; the subject shouldn’t be taken seriously.
Summary: In death, there are plenty of beginnings for Sam Tyler, and not just in relationships but also with his newfound part-time job as a Guardian Angel.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters; the BBC and Kudos do.
~**~
Sam and Gene went to the pub after work, and Sam was only too glad to be there this time. Gene got the drinks for them and they sat in their usual spot in the corner. Sam noticed that Annie was the only one from their team that wasn’t there. He wanted to inquire of her whereabouts with Phyllis, but the need to talk to Gene about what just happened in the Super’s office couldn’t be put off.
“So, wanna talk about it here or wait until later when we’re packin’ yer stuff?”
Sam set his drink down and blinked. “I’m packing my stuff tonight?”
“Why not?” said Gene, shrugging one shoulder. He took a long draught of his whisky chaser and then sighed. “Ahh, that hits the spot.”
“Are you so sure I should be moving in now? I mean what would the others that don’t know about us say?”
“It’s really none of their business why we’re living together, Sam. Plenty of people have flat-mates, yeah?”
Sam thought on it. Honestly, it wouldn’t be too bad living with Gene. He might as well get used to doing so anyway, since they were getting ‘married’. Sam smiled a little as the image of them being a married couple surfaced, sipping his drink. “I suppose you’re right.”
“Of course I’m right. I thought you knew that by now.”
Sam smirked. “Yes, all right. I’ll tell you what Rathbone told me in his office, but you must keep it to yourself. He doesn’t want me telling anyone.”
“Of course ‘e doesn’t. The Super’s a crafty one, ‘e is. Well, come on, spill. What did he tell ya?” Gene lifted his glass to his mouth and drank.
Without missing a beat, Sam said, “He wants to help me make DCI.”
Gene did a spit take.
“Oi!” Sam gasped, standing from the spray of whisky. “Watch the leather!”
“He told you he would ‘elp you make DCI?” Gene repeated, shocked, but then laughed. “Why the bloody ‘ell would he go and do a thing like that? Demons are supposed to discourage that kind of thing. Especially against Guardian Angels.”
“I dunno,” Sam said soberly, sitting back down and wishing for a towel or something to wipe the whisky and Gene spit from his jacket. “It did seem rather out of the ordinary that he’d suddenly change his mind about me, said he’d give me some odd little jobs here and there. …He also told me that he knew he couldn’t make me grow horns easily because of how high level a Guardian I am.”
“No, it wouldn’t be easy for him, but he’s got enough freakin’ patience to pull it off, the slimy git.” Gene finished off what was left of his drink and set the glass down hard. “He’s after you, Sammy, so be careful. I don’t want to become married to a Demon.”
“I know, Guv. I’ll be careful.” Sam smiled, despite the impending dooming feeling. Lately, just the mention of the imminent marriage to Gene Hunt had been a bright light in his heart. He felt so good with the thought, he wanted to take out his wings and fly. But because he was around lost souls in the pub, he couldn’t.
Gene stared at him for a while and then nodded, both pleased with Sam’s answer and the look on his fiancé’s face. “Good. Just keep yer eyes and ears open, Sam.” He scooted his empty tumbler toward him. “Yer round?”
Sam smirked. He finished the rest of his own drink in two more swallows and then stood to get them more.
~**~
Gene drove them to Sam’s flat, and once there he went to the car’s boot, opened it, and produced a few cardboard boxes. He grinned at Sam, and Sam smiled softly. It never ceased to amaze him how Gene could anticipate his thoughts like this, even if he himself continued to deny them.
“Time fer my new Missus to be where ‘e belongs,” Gene winked. Sam blushed from being called his Missus.
“Are you sure we should be moving in together now? What if Rathbone finds out about us? We might lose our jobs.”
“Don’t you worry about that, Sam. As far as everyone’s concerned, we’re just mates sharing a ‘ouse. He’d have no evidence to suggest otherwise.”
“Unless he finds our marriage contract once we’re finally married.”
“Quit worrying, Sam. He’d have to have a bloody good reason to search our ‘ouse anyway, and there’s no way he’d be able to get a warrant to do such a thing since we’re coppers and not criminals. ‘Ere, ‘old this.” Gene put one of the larger boxes into Sam’s arms.
“Our house,” grinned Sam, clutching the box to his chest. “That sounds so good.”
“It does, doesn’t it?”
Once inside Sam’s flat, they set the empty boxes down on Sam’s bed, which wasn’t going with them. It was way too small and creeky, and they both feared that one more hard bounce on it will send them straight through the mattress and on the floor.
“This’ll be fun to get out of yer flat,” said Gene sarcastically as he patted the top of the television set. “It’ll probably do me back in.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll help you with that. ‘Ere, help me wrap my dishes up in these newspapers in the meantime.”
Gene had wandered into Sam’s bathroom. “In a minute, Sam. Let’s get yer girly toiletries packed first. We might not finish packing everything tonight, but at least you’ll have the important things with ya.”
“I don’t have that much stuff, Gene. I’m sure we can get it all packed in no time tonight.” Sam carefully wrapped one of his plates in a newspaper ream and set it into one box.
Gene came out of the bathroom a minute later with his arms full of Sam’s soaps, shaving cream, deodorants, and other items. “Blimey, Gladys, no wonder you always smell so girly.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “It’s called keeping clean and nice smelling, not girly. Come on, ‘elp me with these now. We’ll pack those things later.”
“We’re not even married yet and yer already givin’ me orders.”
Sam chuckled. “Get used to it.”
They packed things up in silence for the next half hour, except for the couple times Gene had to ask him questions. Sam ended up packing his kitchen things by himself, but now that he thought about it, it was probably best if he did it on his own; Gene might drop and break one.
Gene just finished with packing all of Sam’s bathroom supplies and then started on Sam’s wardrobe. There wasn’t too much to pack in that either, but it looked like most of Sam’s clothing consisted of different colored button up shirts. Gene held out one of them, and Sam looked at him.
“I remember this shirt,” said Gene. He brought the red, pink, and blue striped shirt to his face and sniffed it.
Sam laughed. “Oi, I’m right here to sniff if you wanna sniff me.”
Gene grinned. “Oh?” In a couple strides Gene had Sam in a bear hug and buried his face into Sam’s neck, inhaling deeply. Then Gene snuffled noisily along his neck, and Sam found himself giggling. Gene’s hands moved from his back to his waist, and then he was running his hands up and down Sam’s sides. Sam gripped Gene’s shoulders, tilted his head back, and let Gene touch and smell him all he wanted.
“Yes,” said Gene softly. “Definitely a girly scent on ya, Gladys.”
“Oh shut up,” moaned Sam. He knew that Gene was joking, and that what Gene was mostly smelling on him was ‘cleanliness’, other than the way Gene smelt most of the time: like scotch and smoke.
Gene stopped sniffing him and gently began to place soft kisses along Sam’s neck and the bit of shoulder muscle showing. Gene moved Sam’s shirt and jacket out of the away so he could get at more skin. Sam brought his hands up from Gene’s shoulders to tangle into his hair. “Oh, Gene.”
“I want to taste you, Sam… may I?”
“Do we…” Sam gasped when Gene nibbled a bit too hard on his collarbone. “…have time?”
“We’ll make time,” growled Gene. He quickly got Sam out of his leather jacket, unbuttoned his shirt and then pushed up his vest, running his fingers over Sam’s chest and stomach. Sam instinctively sucked in his gut, leaning back against the kitchen counter. When Gene undid his belt and unzipped his fly, Sam widened his stance better. Gene cupped Sam’s balls through the jeans as he mouthed Sam’s swelling cock through his underpants. Sam let out a small gasp, breath coming in faster. He looked down and the sight of Gene kneeling before him, gently lipping the head of his cock through his pants made him even harder.
Gene moved his hand from Sam’s balls to the area he knew was Sam’s arsehole. He palmed it harshly, and Sam was whimpering and wishing his jeans were off. Gene seemed to have read his mind, because then he tugged his jeans and pants down until they were around his ankles, and his cock sprung out and smacked Gene in the cheek.
Grinning, Gene grabbed the base of Sam’s cock in one hand and gently pressed his finger on his other hand into Sam’s arse. Sam would have bucked his hips but he was afraid he would trip because of his trousers around his ankles. Gene helped one of his feet out, widened his legs more, and then moved his mouth from the head of Sam’s cock to the underside of his balls. Sam moaned his appreciation, combing his fingers through Gene’s hair.
“This would be easier if you were on yer back like a good wifey, Sammy.”
“And what if I wasn’t a ‘good wifey’?”
Gene looked up at him, and Sam kept his defiant face even though his heart was thudding madly in his chest. He had no idea why he said that; normally he thought things through before letting his mouth run, but around Gene sometimes he forgot.
“Then I guess you get a good ol’ fashioned whollaping.”
Sam met Gene’s gleaming eyes with his own. “I’d like to see you try.”
And then before Sam knew it, he was being dragged over to his armchair and flung over Gene’s lap, his trousers and underpants left on the floor. He struggled, not sure if doing this sort of thing now was a good idea, but at the first sting of Gene’s hand on his buttock he found himself surrendering and going limp. Gene knew that his arse was one of his weaknesses, and not only did groping it produce good results, so was the feel of a hard, calloused hand hitting the round, soft flesh and making it red.
Gene laid one arm around Sam’s back as if he were afraid Sam might try wiggling away, as he swatted Sam with his right hand. After a few gentle hits, he put more force into it. Sam gasped, growing rock hard against Gene’s lap and unable to stop himself from spreading his legs. The next swat landed near Sam’s ball sac and it made Sam’s cock jump.
Gene paused for a moment to admire his handiwork. Gently, he stroked the red handprint developing on Sam’s left butt cheek. “Gonna be a good wifey now?” His voice was lower now, raspier.
Sam panted, unsure how to answer at first. He gripped the fabric of Gene’s trousers as he thought on how to react, but then Gene’s hand came down again, stinging, and Sam gasped sharply, and then moaned when Gene pushed a finger inside of him. Gene moved the digit around, finding Sam’s prostate, making Sam wiggle and whine on his lap, before slipping it out and moving Sam so that he was now sitting in his lap with his back against his chest.
“Sam,” Gene whispered into Sam’s ear, breath hot, “You WILL be a good Missus now and sit on my cock.” Gene nipped at the skin below his ear. “Am I making myself clear?”
“Perfectly,” Sam sighed. Without being told twice, Sam placed his feet on the arms of the chair, raised his arse a little, located Gene’s cock under him, and gently penetrated himself on it. Sam held his breath as he felt it stretch him, a little painfully at first, but then it was sliding in perfectly. Sam let out the breath he was holding, and moaned, feeling just how full he was. He sat there, adjusting to the feel of Gene inside him, before trying to move. Gene grasped the underside of Sam’s thighs and helped him bounce up and down, slowly. Gene kissed along Sam’s neck, tasting salt, and Sam kept his eyes closed and his mouth gaping as the feel of Gene filling him again and again washed over him. Sam raised his arms up to clasp behind Gene’s head, turned it toward him, and captured his lips.
It almost done Gene in. He stopped, not wanting to finish this way (no matter how flexible Sam was), and pulled Sam completely off his cock and stood. In a flurry, Sam understood, and he turned so that he was facedown on the armchair, holding himself steady with his elbows, legs spread, and arse in the air. Gene pushed him forward until his knees were smashed into the sides of the cushion and arse lowered slightly. One thrust and he was fully seated within Sam again. Sam couldn’t keep quiet as Gene fucked him hard and fast, rocking the armchair back and forth off the floor. Sam hung onto the arms of the chair when Gene’s thrusts become wilder, and then he was shaking and coming inside him, groaning Sam’s name between his shoulder blades.
When Gene pulled out finally, Sam turned and sat back down in the armchair. Gene fell to his knees and sucked Sam’s cock into his mouth. The bloody bastard was so damn beautiful it nearly made his wings pop out. Sam wrapped his legs around Gene’s shoulders, heels digging into his back, as he softly murmured Gene’s name and ran his fingers through his hair. Gene looked at him while he sucked, and Sam’s eyes blazed with undisguised bliss and emotion.
“More, deeper…” Sam moaned, thrusting his hips up into Gene’s mouth, and Gene found he couldn’t disobey. He sucked deeper, faster, and soon Sam was coming in his mouth, breath shuddering and legs shaking. Gene swallowed without being told.
Sam sighed, completely sated. “Love you, Gene.”
Gene smiled softly. “Me too, Sammy.”
~**~
The next day, there was a manila folder on Sam’s desk with his name on it, marked ‘urgent’. Sam looked around the room to see if anyone was watching, then sat down and opened the folder.
Inside was a person’s file and mug shot. It looked like an old case, almost like it was unsolvable, but as Sam read through the report it didn’t seem very hard to decipher after all. The man, Louie Black, was charged with theft, attempted murder, and resisting arrest.
He looked up when he felt eyes on him, and his gaze met Gene’s through the office blinds. Gene gestured his head to indicate he wanted to see him inside. Sam left the file on his desk, knowing it’ll go untouched. No one in CID wanted to voluntarily do work, so they left everything on Sam’s desk alone.
Once he walked into his DCI’s office, Gene handed him a glass of scotch. Sam sipped it to help calm his nerves. His fiancé really was getting to know him well.
“So, you’ve been given a special assignment already then?” he nodded in the direction of Sam’s desk through the office window.
“Yeah,” said Sam. “Apparently.”
“Is it a solo project, then?”
Sam shrugged. “Dunno. He didn’t say specifically that the cases he gives me were strictly solo. Unless he figured I would do them alone since he said that they’re my odd jobs.”
Gene walked around to the other side of his desk and sat. “I don’t like it, Sammy. It just doesn’t feel right. It stinks of old Demon piss.”
Sam wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Yeah, I know, but he’s my-our-superior officer, innit ‘e? I gotta do as he says.”
Gene grunted in agreement. “Still, doesn’t mean we gotta let him win, eh? He may be sly and cunning and devious, but us Guardian Angels recognize that and can stop it before anything worse ‘appens.”
Sam grinned. “Right.” Then he sobered immediately. “So, any thoughts?” He sipped his scotch.
Gene hummed thoughtfully. “Go along with it for now,” he finally said. “Get a grasp of what’s going on, and report to me and only me, Sam. That way we can ‘ead Rathbone off at the past.”
Sam chuckled at his Guv’s western slang use. “Yes, Guv.” He felt marginally better than before. “Solo, then?”
“Yeah, solo. But take a police radio and an unmarked car. At the slightest sign of danger radio the station and have Phyllis get me. I’ll be waiting.”
“Won’t be at a darts tournament, then?” Sam said cheekily.
“Not if I don’t want a dead boyfriend.” Gene’s eyes softened. “Good luck, Sam.”
~**~
Sam stepped out of the unmarked police car, radio in hand. The suspect was located on the sixth floor of the apartment building, room 606. Once he was standing in front of Black’s apartment door, Sam pounded on it, mindful not to shout out ‘police’ this time.
The door opened and there stood Louie Black. He looked to be in his fifties, hair graying as well as his mustache. It was him all right, but a much older version than the one in the file.
“Yes, may I help you?” he asked Sam.
Sam produced his police badge. “Detective Inspector Tyler. I’m afraid you’ll have to come down to the station with me.”
“What for?” Black said, looking outraged. “What’d I do?”
“You know what you’ve done, Mr. Black.” Sam took out his handcuffs. “So, please cooperate this time and put your hands behind your back…” Sam was about to read him his rights, but Black interrupted him.
“But I’m innocent! I swear!” he protested. “You people figured that out and released me!”
“Not according to the files I have. So, are you coming along quietly or do I need to use force?” Sam raised his police radio in warning.
“You can’t do this to me!” Black persisted. “I’m innocent!”
“Evidence suggests otherwise, sir. Now then, you do not have to say anything, but it may harm… Oi!”
Louie Black turned and ran toward the sitting room window. He opened it and screamed for help, announcing to those listening to him in the street below that he’s being arrested on false charges. Sam ran to stop him from shouting and to close the window, but when the man turned around he was suddenly frightened-eyes wide in horror, mouth gaping open, looking as though he was seeing a ghost or a monster-“Oh my God, no, get away!”-And then started to fall backwards out the window.
“Watch it!” Sam tried to grab him before he fell out completely, but the shirt in his hand ripped and the suspect fell out the window and down to the street below. “No!” Sam screamed, unable to do anything but watch in horror. The people in the street saw this and screamed.
Louie Black died when he hit the tarmac, and Sam heard the sickening crunch of something breaking. Some bystanders were pointing up at him and some ran, unable to handle seeing a crumpled up and bloody body.
Sam felt his heart plummet into his stomach as he stared down at Black’s dead body. “Shit…”
TBC