Advent Calendar Day 23
Title: A Fantasy in Three Parts (3/3)
Author: Edzel2
Word Count: 2,130-ish overall
Rating: Brown Cortina (warnings for some explicitness of the naughty kind)
Summary: Sam, Gene and Annie each have their own fantasy...
Author’s Note: As well as being my Advent Calendar contribution, this is also a little something I promised to write for one of my friends in a chatroom very recently... XD
Edit: And THIS is why I sometimes HATE LJ - I am doing EXACTLY the same actions as I've done the last two occasions to post behind an LJ Cut and it isn't working!! This is like my sixth attempt tonight (this morning?!) and I am simply too tired to keep messing with it - so I am really very sorry for cluttering up everyone's pages but it's either this or part three doesn't get posted.... I will try it again when I get home from work tonight but TBH this is exactly the reason I stopped posting on LJ about a year ago and just put links to my stuff on my website... I thought it was me being dim but now I'm convinced it really it isn't, I managed it fine the last couple of days and now suddenly it doesn't want to know me anymore.... *heaves angry sigh* sorry about the rant, everyone, but I just.... arrrrggghhh!!!! You know...?!?
Edit of the edit: and hurrah! It worked at last... *whoops*
Part Three, 23 December, Sam/Gene/Annie:
‘Christ Almighty Tyler... what the hell have you been drinking?’ Gene stares accusingly at Annie as Sam stumbles against her, giggling. His DI does not giggle, no way; except apparently he does... ‘Thought you were supposed to be keeping an eye on him, Cartwright?’
‘I think it’s the painkillers, Guv - people kept plying him with drinks and I think there was a Mickey in there somewhere...he didn’t meant to get drunk.’
‘M’ not drunk...’ Sam warbles happily, throwing a arm over Annie’s shoulder and another over Gene’s as the DCI steps forward to stop his deputy falling arse over tit.
‘You bloody well are...’ Gene snaps, grabbing Tyler’s hand and putting the other around his waist. He tries hard not to think about it; his hand around Tyler’s waist, fingers just inches from the waistband of his jeans and what’s underneath... he feels his cock twitch and grits his teeth. Now is not the time to be getting the horn...
‘Let’s get him home and you can tip black coffee down his neck ‘till he sobers up,’ Gene growls.
Annie nods and if Gene weren’t so distracted by the feel of Sam’s warm body through the thin shirt he would have sworn that she’d given him the ‘come on’ smile.
The journey back to Sam’s and Annie’s gaff is mercifully short because Gene really needs to go and sort out his errant cock before it gets any more noticeable - as they manhandle Sam out of the Cortina and up the path he notices that Annie’s face is flushed too.
‘You been drinking and all, Cartwright?’ he queries, rather more aggressively than might be naturally warranted.
‘Just a couple of glasses, Gene,’ she says, and the sound of his name on her lips sends a shudder through his belly and down to his groin.
‘Hmmpf.’
Gene is all for marching Sam into the lounge and leaving them to it, but Annie stops halfway down the hallway.
‘Actually, Guv... Gene... would you mind if we took him upstairs? Only I can’t manage him by myself...’
No. No way. No bloody way. But she is, isn’t she? She’s giving him the come-on, Gene is certain. He swallows, clears his throat.
‘Well...’ He feels her hand on his, next to the warmth of Sam’s skinny waist, and sighs. ‘If I must.’
The stairs prove quite tricky, mainly because Sam is trying to grope them both. Gene grits his teeth as Sam’s hand shimmies down inside his shirt -where the button has popped, leaving a gap more than enough for his DI’s girly-proportioned hand to slip inside; he tries not to replay one of his fantasies, the one where Sam’s much smaller hand wraps around Gene’s swollen cock; the image of that small hand on his dick has proved a powerful aphrodisiac for a couple of weeks now, and Gene knows as they gain the top of the stairs at the same time as Sam’s hand pushes down inside the waistband of his trousers that he’s a doomed man.
‘Tyler....’ he growls as they stumble through into the bedroom; his eyes widen as they settle on the unmade bed, the nightwear scattered about the floor and he knows that his assumption of earlier has been correct; Sam and Annie had had sex that morning before leaving for work; only the threat of being late into the office would have prevented Mister Tidy-Pants Tyler from picking up the soiled clothing and putting it neatly into the laundry basket...
‘... Get your flippin’ hand of my cock!’ He finishes, wanting anything but that but unable to articulate it.
‘s’ hard...!’ Sam exclaims in wonder, slightly unfocused eyes sliding to Gene’s face and then his groin. ‘Annie... Gene’s got n’rection...’ And he licks his lips.
Gene is frozen to the spot. Sam’s hand is still down his pants and so help him those nimble fingers have slid underneath and somehow Gene’s fly is undone and Sam’s finger is sliding over the damp head of Gene’s cock and it’s all he can do not to groan.
‘Guv...’ Sam moans, and Gene does groan then; he’s hardly aware of doing it but somehow his hand is on Sam’s fly as he stands swaying against Annie... who pulls Sam away and aims him at the bed, where he flops bonelessly, his arousal tenting the tight corduroy.
‘Gene...’
Gene turns to her, and somehow he isn’t surprised to see that she’s halfway out of her blouse and that her brassiere is undone, erect nipples poking above the fabric.
‘I must be bloody dreamin’...’ he says flatly as Annie grabs his hand and tugs him towards the bed, where Sam is struggling drunkenly with his clothes; buttons, it seems, are quite beyond him at the moment.
‘I promise you Guv, you aren’t...’ Annie grins at him as she deftly bats Sam’s hands out of the way and undoes his trousers; she seems as excited about this as a box of puppies and Gene can’t say that he blames her, because his heart is racing like a piston engine. He wonders if his epitaph will be ‘Died shagging his DI and DS in bizarre love triangle’...
‘Did you plan this?’ he asks her as she shucks the last of her cloths and sets to work on his.
‘Actually no... But it’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while... and when you offered to help and then I saw this....’ she slips cool fingers around his erection (Sam being somewhat preoccupied with his own at the moment), ‘Well... I thought it was too good an opportunity to pass up, Sir.’
‘I knew I should never have let you out of uniform...’ Gene growls. ‘The thought of you in that, your hand on my todger calling me ‘Sir’... gives me the right horn, it does.’
‘Good.’ She smiles again, and twists away from him, throwing her leg over Sam and lowering herself over his face. ‘Sam... pussy,’ she croons, and Gene almost comes there and then.
‘I have died and gone to heaven...’ he murmurs, and joins them on the bed, flopping backwards so that his cock sticks up like a flagpole. He grabs it and squeezes, hard, because otherwise he’ll come too soon and this is possibly his best Christmas in a long time...