Fic Last rites
Title: Last rites
Author: Me
Rating: Brown Cortina
Words: 1416
Pairings: Sam/Gene
Spoilers: None
Summary: Sam offers up a suitable funeral plan for the Cortina...
A/N: Crack!Smut is always fun, especially seen as a few people requested Gene shagging Sam over the bent and broken hood of his poor dead Cortina. Sequel to Rust to Rust.
Gene stands in front of the twisted remnants of his beloved car and feels his heart thumpthumping it's way out of his chest. It's just a car, a silly stupid piece of metal.
Oh who's he trying to kid?
It's not just a car, it's the car; gorgeous, fast, fun to drive. His ticket to birds, booze and brilliant times. Ok, not so much the first one anymore, he's been shagging his bony arsed DI for months but before... Before Sammy came flip flopping into their lives, it was his ticket to a guaranteed shag.
It wasn't just a way to get from A to B, it was the vehicular equivalent of Gene himself. A little bit battered, a little bit well loved but it had power and precision, speed and agility.
The perfect car.
Now, it's a mess of wires and bent panels and Gene feels like throwing himself on the ground and pounding his fists into the dirt.
This's the fifth time in as many days that Gene's snuck himself out to the 'evidence lot' to not cry over his beautifully wrecked mean machine. Sam's wisely chosen to ignore the fact that he's disappeared for an hour every day for almost a week.
Despite telling him it was just a car, Sam knows how much losing it's been a wrench and he's not willing to put himself in harms way by taking the proverbial. Clever bloke.
He's also left Gene to it, not venturing out after him, giving him time to mourn the loss on his own terms.
The thing that really aggravates Gene, the most annoying aspect of losing the wheels...he'll never be able to rag Tyler over the bonnet or in the back seat ever again. They've spent many an entertaining night pressed uncomfortably up against the seats, fighting for space and purchase.
Never again will he see Sam's back arching as he slides him across the hood.
Heartbreaking.
Shuffling back, Gene senses someone step up behind him and feels a pair of sinewy arms encircle his waist. The whiff of girly aftershave alerts him to the fact it's Sam and he relaxes into the embrace.
"Don't you think, it's about time you let it go?"
The amusement in his tone makes Gene want to head but him. He doesn't know, doesn't understand.
She was many things but above all, she was freedom. A way to go wherever he'd wanted no matter the distance or obstacle.
Instead of giving the little toerag a slap, Gene spins in Sam's arms and grips his waist. Turning, Gene walks him backwards until his shoulders bump against what used to be the passenger side door.
Sam lowers his lashes and smirks because the reaction's exactly what he'd hoped for. Gene's been mooning over the loss of the Cortina for five whole days and Sam was about to do something drastic. It's not like they've lost a member of the team, although, the amount of time Gene spent in the bloody thing...
Biting his lip, Sam flutters his eyes at Gene and laughs when he growls.
"Fancy giving her a decent send off?"
The heat in Gene's gaze tells Sam he's hit the nail on the head and giggles when Gene starts ripping at his shirt and trousers.
Feeling Gene's half hard cock rubbing against his thigh sends Sam off into his own erotic imaginings.
All right, it is a little upsetting. They've done some wonderfully twisted things on the back seat of this car and he's about to be royally shagged against it for the last time and that does actually sadden him, just not enough to offer to pay for it's funeral.
Allowing Gene to remove every last shred of his clothing while they're stood in the middle of the impound yard probably isn't a great idea but needs must and Sam's cock is already twitching at the idea of getting caught.
He's certainly discovered some new and intriguing kinks since embarking upon this 'relationship' with his DCI. Not that impromptu blow jobs and hasty rucks in inappropriate places constituents a relationship but Sam's at a loss for what to call this thing between them.
Sliding himself down the side of the car, Sam shivers as his bare arse glides effortlessly against the bowed metal. Crouching between Gene's knees, he retrieves his trousers and starts rummaging around in the pockets.
"What ya doin'?" Gene's voice is strained and breathy, telling Sam exactly how much he's looking forward to what they're about to do.
"Lube" The one word comes out as a squeak and Sam wonders when Gene Hunt turned him into such a girl.
Finding what he's after, Sam rises triumphantly and waves the tube in Gene's face.
Leering, Gene plucks it from Sam's fingers and goes to work on his own trousers.
Typical, "How come I always end up naked and you don't so much as lose a sock?"
"'Cos I'm the superior officer, gets me certain privileges. Perks you might say"
Sam shakes his head and rolls his eyes, "Exactly how many 'perks' do you intend on collecting?"
Chuckling, Gene pushes his trousers down far enough to free his straining cock and starts stroking himself, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on Sam's face, "That's for me to know an' you to dream about"
Sam tries to concentrate on Gene's words but he's too busy watching his large hand sliding back and forth along his cock. Sam never tires of watching Gene jerk himself off, it's like poetry, so much power all focused in one place at one time with one intent.
Transfixed by the tiny glistening droplet of cum nestled upon the tip of Gene's cock, Sam lowers himself once again, shunts forward and engulfs him in moist warmth. Ignoring the taste of lube with it's acrid tang, Sam swirls his tongue round Gene and steadies himself against his thighs.
Gene groans, throws his head back and lets his hand drop. Forgetting his fingers are caked in clammy liquid, he runs them through Sam's short cropped hair and grips the back of his neck.
Finally it's too much and Gene has to physically remove himself from Sam's talented mouth before he gives in and disintegrates. Pulling back, he hooks his hands under Sam's arms and yanks him upright.
There's an urgency to his actions and he's all too focused on spinning and twisting his lover to take much notice of where they've landed.
Sam's laying on an extremely sharp piece of the bonnet that's jutting into his stomach but he's too lost to care and happily offers himself up for Gene's enjoyment.
The mixture of lubricant and saliva means Gene slides easily inside Sam's grasping heat and he can't help the guttural groans from tripping off his tongue. Stilling, tensing every muscle, Gene tries to imagine himself in the middle of the 'Arms to stop himself pounding blindly into the man pinioned to the bonnet of his soon to be scrapped car.
After what seems like forever, Gene begins to thrust and Sam finds himself automatically rising to meet him. Matching him movement for movement, Sam lays his palms flat against metal and pushes back hard enough to make Gene grunt and stumble.
It's not a graceful display but Sam can feel his toes lifting off the floor with every jerk of Gene's hips and he can't stop himself from crying out. Tightening his muscles, Sam slides up and slams himself back until Gene's nails are gouging tracks out of his hips and he can feel himself tipping over the edge.
Hips pistonning like a steam train on full tilt, Gene slams himself into Sam over and over again until he feels him tightening around his cock. As Sam cries out and spills himself down the side of the Cortina, Gene growls, leans forward and sinks his teeth into Sam's shoulder to stop himself shouting loud enough to rouse the entire station.
Panting, licking the last traces of Sam's blood from his lips, Gene collapses back, dragging his whimpering DI down with him.
Sam's sat in his lap, heaving for breath and rubbing the mark Gene's made on his shoulder when he feels Gene shift beneath him, "So, feel a bit better about letting the old girl go?"
Gene rests his forehead against Sam's spine and smirks, "M'thinkin' 'bout a Capri for me next car"
Not really wanting to know, Sam asks, "Why?"
"Lower to the ground, no more bruises on me arse"
Author: Me
Rating: Brown Cortina
Words: 1416
Pairings: Sam/Gene
Spoilers: None
Summary: Sam offers up a suitable funeral plan for the Cortina...
A/N: Crack!Smut is always fun, especially seen as a few people requested Gene shagging Sam over the bent and broken hood of his poor dead Cortina. Sequel to Rust to Rust.
Gene stands in front of the twisted remnants of his beloved car and feels his heart thumpthumping it's way out of his chest. It's just a car, a silly stupid piece of metal.
Oh who's he trying to kid?
It's not just a car, it's the car; gorgeous, fast, fun to drive. His ticket to birds, booze and brilliant times. Ok, not so much the first one anymore, he's been shagging his bony arsed DI for months but before... Before Sammy came flip flopping into their lives, it was his ticket to a guaranteed shag.
It wasn't just a way to get from A to B, it was the vehicular equivalent of Gene himself. A little bit battered, a little bit well loved but it had power and precision, speed and agility.
The perfect car.
Now, it's a mess of wires and bent panels and Gene feels like throwing himself on the ground and pounding his fists into the dirt.
This's the fifth time in as many days that Gene's snuck himself out to the 'evidence lot' to not cry over his beautifully wrecked mean machine. Sam's wisely chosen to ignore the fact that he's disappeared for an hour every day for almost a week.
Despite telling him it was just a car, Sam knows how much losing it's been a wrench and he's not willing to put himself in harms way by taking the proverbial. Clever bloke.
He's also left Gene to it, not venturing out after him, giving him time to mourn the loss on his own terms.
The thing that really aggravates Gene, the most annoying aspect of losing the wheels...he'll never be able to rag Tyler over the bonnet or in the back seat ever again. They've spent many an entertaining night pressed uncomfortably up against the seats, fighting for space and purchase.
Never again will he see Sam's back arching as he slides him across the hood.
Heartbreaking.
Shuffling back, Gene senses someone step up behind him and feels a pair of sinewy arms encircle his waist. The whiff of girly aftershave alerts him to the fact it's Sam and he relaxes into the embrace.
"Don't you think, it's about time you let it go?"
The amusement in his tone makes Gene want to head but him. He doesn't know, doesn't understand.
She was many things but above all, she was freedom. A way to go wherever he'd wanted no matter the distance or obstacle.
Instead of giving the little toerag a slap, Gene spins in Sam's arms and grips his waist. Turning, Gene walks him backwards until his shoulders bump against what used to be the passenger side door.
Sam lowers his lashes and smirks because the reaction's exactly what he'd hoped for. Gene's been mooning over the loss of the Cortina for five whole days and Sam was about to do something drastic. It's not like they've lost a member of the team, although, the amount of time Gene spent in the bloody thing...
Biting his lip, Sam flutters his eyes at Gene and laughs when he growls.
"Fancy giving her a decent send off?"
The heat in Gene's gaze tells Sam he's hit the nail on the head and giggles when Gene starts ripping at his shirt and trousers.
Feeling Gene's half hard cock rubbing against his thigh sends Sam off into his own erotic imaginings.
All right, it is a little upsetting. They've done some wonderfully twisted things on the back seat of this car and he's about to be royally shagged against it for the last time and that does actually sadden him, just not enough to offer to pay for it's funeral.
Allowing Gene to remove every last shred of his clothing while they're stood in the middle of the impound yard probably isn't a great idea but needs must and Sam's cock is already twitching at the idea of getting caught.
He's certainly discovered some new and intriguing kinks since embarking upon this 'relationship' with his DCI. Not that impromptu blow jobs and hasty rucks in inappropriate places constituents a relationship but Sam's at a loss for what to call this thing between them.
Sliding himself down the side of the car, Sam shivers as his bare arse glides effortlessly against the bowed metal. Crouching between Gene's knees, he retrieves his trousers and starts rummaging around in the pockets.
"What ya doin'?" Gene's voice is strained and breathy, telling Sam exactly how much he's looking forward to what they're about to do.
"Lube" The one word comes out as a squeak and Sam wonders when Gene Hunt turned him into such a girl.
Finding what he's after, Sam rises triumphantly and waves the tube in Gene's face.
Leering, Gene plucks it from Sam's fingers and goes to work on his own trousers.
Typical, "How come I always end up naked and you don't so much as lose a sock?"
"'Cos I'm the superior officer, gets me certain privileges. Perks you might say"
Sam shakes his head and rolls his eyes, "Exactly how many 'perks' do you intend on collecting?"
Chuckling, Gene pushes his trousers down far enough to free his straining cock and starts stroking himself, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on Sam's face, "That's for me to know an' you to dream about"
Sam tries to concentrate on Gene's words but he's too busy watching his large hand sliding back and forth along his cock. Sam never tires of watching Gene jerk himself off, it's like poetry, so much power all focused in one place at one time with one intent.
Transfixed by the tiny glistening droplet of cum nestled upon the tip of Gene's cock, Sam lowers himself once again, shunts forward and engulfs him in moist warmth. Ignoring the taste of lube with it's acrid tang, Sam swirls his tongue round Gene and steadies himself against his thighs.
Gene groans, throws his head back and lets his hand drop. Forgetting his fingers are caked in clammy liquid, he runs them through Sam's short cropped hair and grips the back of his neck.
Finally it's too much and Gene has to physically remove himself from Sam's talented mouth before he gives in and disintegrates. Pulling back, he hooks his hands under Sam's arms and yanks him upright.
There's an urgency to his actions and he's all too focused on spinning and twisting his lover to take much notice of where they've landed.
Sam's laying on an extremely sharp piece of the bonnet that's jutting into his stomach but he's too lost to care and happily offers himself up for Gene's enjoyment.
The mixture of lubricant and saliva means Gene slides easily inside Sam's grasping heat and he can't help the guttural groans from tripping off his tongue. Stilling, tensing every muscle, Gene tries to imagine himself in the middle of the 'Arms to stop himself pounding blindly into the man pinioned to the bonnet of his soon to be scrapped car.
After what seems like forever, Gene begins to thrust and Sam finds himself automatically rising to meet him. Matching him movement for movement, Sam lays his palms flat against metal and pushes back hard enough to make Gene grunt and stumble.
It's not a graceful display but Sam can feel his toes lifting off the floor with every jerk of Gene's hips and he can't stop himself from crying out. Tightening his muscles, Sam slides up and slams himself back until Gene's nails are gouging tracks out of his hips and he can feel himself tipping over the edge.
Hips pistonning like a steam train on full tilt, Gene slams himself into Sam over and over again until he feels him tightening around his cock. As Sam cries out and spills himself down the side of the Cortina, Gene growls, leans forward and sinks his teeth into Sam's shoulder to stop himself shouting loud enough to rouse the entire station.
Panting, licking the last traces of Sam's blood from his lips, Gene collapses back, dragging his whimpering DI down with him.
Sam's sat in his lap, heaving for breath and rubbing the mark Gene's made on his shoulder when he feels Gene shift beneath him, "So, feel a bit better about letting the old girl go?"
Gene rests his forehead against Sam's spine and smirks, "M'thinkin' 'bout a Capri for me next car"
Not really wanting to know, Sam asks, "Why?"
"Lower to the ground, no more bruises on me arse"