Driving the Boss Crazy, by Hambel. (Brown Cortina)
Author: Hambel
Title: Driving the Boss Crazy
Rating: Brown Cortina, for swearing and shagging.
Words: nearly 3098
Pairings: Sam/Gene
Spoilers: None really.
Summary: Basically, just a load of smut.
Disclaimer: No one belongs to me. I have borrowed them from the BBC and Kudos and will give them back when I’ve finished. I am making no money from this whatsoever, just enjoying the freedom of t’internet.
A/N: This is carried on from It’s A Fair Cop Guv (I'm using Rich Text and can't do the fancy links, but it's here- http://community.livejournal.com/lifein1973/506844.html), but it can be read as a stand alone. It’s just an excuse to be smutty, really. It’s taken me ages, because every time I imagined what I was writing, I’d go off to a happy place. Hope you do too :D
Driving the Boss Crazy
“You are not discharging yourself, guv. You’re not fit enough to go home.”
“I am not stayin’ ’ere any longer than I ’ave to. Gene Hunt leads Manchester’s Finest into putting away the bad guys, he does not lie in an ’ospital bed waiting for some arse-faced pansy doctor to prod him about and tell him to be a good boy.... Will you help me with this bastard jacket?” The last part was hissed through clenched teeth as he threw the offending item across the bed.
Sam put his hands up, palms forward, making no attempt to retrieve the jacket. “Gene, calm down. You’ve only been here one night. You need time to...”
“I need to go ’ome, Tyler. I’m not sittin’ in this ’ospital bed a minute longer, watching you eye up the nurses in their tight little uniforms and not being able to -”
“Not being able to take advantage of me?” It was Sam’s turn to interrupt. “That didn’t seem to stop you trying to grope me last night when I straightened your pillows.”
Gene snorted. “If you will drape your crotch so close to me ’and, what d’you expect?” he replied, unrepentantly. He grabbed Sam’s hand and pulled it under the bedclothes. “Go on, Sam, you know you want to.”
Sam’s fingers caressed the bulge in Gene’s pyjamas and his breathing quickened, before remembering where they were. He pulled his hand away as though he’d been scorched. Gene smirked at his expression.
“Behave! How’s it gonna look if two of Manchester’s CID are found wanking each other off in a hospital bed?”
“I wasn’t gonna do it to you.”
“Oh, charming!”
“Well, you got ter go home last night, didn’t yer? I bet yer little right hand was working overtime with you thinkin’ ’bout what I’m goin’ to do to yer when I get home.”
Noticing the slight flush creeping up on his DI’s face, Gene knew he had hit the nail on the head. “I was havin’ a wank last night -” Sam spluttered and looked around to make sure no-one was listening in. The nurses were standing by the Work Station, completing a shift changeover. He was admiring the fit of Staff Nurse Brown’s uniform and the way it moulded itself round her pert little bottom when he realised Gene was still talking, “- after you wouldn’t let me play with your ding-a-ling, but the old fart in the bed next door was hollerin’ and shouting so much for a nurse, it put me off me stroke.”
Sam bit his lip in an effort not to laugh at Gene’s petulant expression. “It’s only been one night,” he reminded his DCI.
“One night away from you after I’ve stared death in the face, Sammy-boy. It’s amazing how randy a near-death experience can make you.”
Sam’s eyebrows almost disappeared. “I thought I was the kinky one in this relationship,” he observed, a grin playing around his lips.
“You are. I am merely trying to point out that I was hurt and I wanted a little...”
“...Loving?”
Gene sniffed, but didn’t rise to the bait. “I’m discharging meself.”
“You’re.... what? No, get.... Gene!” He grabbed Gene by the shoulders as he sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “Gene! You have a shoulder wound. There is no way you’re going home!”
“Yes, I am. You can look after me, Gladys. Suit you down to the ground, that will. Poncing about, attending to me every whim, all the pork sword you can handle.”
Sam ignored the offer of sex on tap in an effort to get his DCI to see sense. “I can’t do that, guv. In your absence I have a police department to run. You really want to leave it in the hands of DS Carling?”
“It’s only for a couple of days. You can pop in for the morning and come home at lunchtime...”
“Which part of ‘no’ don’t you understand, you stubborn old sod?”
“The part that’s tellin’ me you don’t want me at home.” Gene’s eyes narrowed. “You got other plans while I’m incapacitated? Skelton helpin’ you with night duty, is he?” Gene knew he was being unreasonable, but he really did want to be at home where he could relax, without worrying that he might be calling Sam’s name out in his sleep.
Sam relented, seeing the desperation in his partner’s eyes. He wanted Gene home too. It wasn’t that much fun lying in bed by himself with no-one to snuggle up to and no-one to ---
“C’mon then, Gladys. Chop, chop. Jacket!”
**********
“You bin driving my car?” Gene had one arm draped around Sam’s shoulders, more as an excuse to feel the warmth of the younger man’s body than any real need for support.
“It was just sitting there,” Sam shrugged.
“If you’ve scratched the paintwork, I’ll chop off your bollocks and use them as earmuffs.”
“I sometimes think you love that car more than me,” Sam said without thinking, moving Gene’s hand off his shoulder and stowing his things in the boot.
Gene went quiet. “I wouldn’t say that, Sammy-boy.”
A warm, fuzzy feeling spread through Sam’s body which lasted as long as it took for Gene to assert that he was driving.
“Piss off, Gene. You’ve been doped up with pain-killers. You’d be a danger to yourself and other road-users.”
“I can drive, Tyler. Now hand over the soddin’ keys.”
Sam darted out of the way of Gene’s outstretched hand and moved round to the driver’s door, unlocking it and sliding into the seat before Gene’s morphine-filled senses could react. He leaned over and unlocked the passenger door with a smirk.
“Get in,” he ordered.
Gene stood motionless, but when Sam started the car and put it into reverse, he wrenched open the door and got in, muttering about people who take advantage of his easy-going nature.
“I don’t know why you soddin’ well lock the car anyway. No-one would dare to nick my car,” he grumbled.
“Force of habit,” Sam said, cheerfully.
“Are they all thievin’ bastards in Hyde then?”
Sam ignored the guv’s petulance, putting it down to Post Traumatic Stress, although he would never suggest it to him. He concentrated on getting them home. He enjoyed driving. It was one of those things he did well and he settled into it easily, his muscles relaxing, but his senses staying on full alert for dangers and hazards, the way he’d been taught on his Police Advanced Driving course. Feed the steering wheel through your hands, drive safely up to the speed limit, use the gears to slow down, don’t brake at the last minute, and watch out for pedestrians, especially small children who might dart out into the road unexpectedly. He didn’t like not having door mirrors, so was constantly checking over his shoulder when changing direction.
“I need to stop by the Station first,” he said, checking his rear-view mirror and signalling right. “Ray has some paperwork that has to be signed off by one of us. I expect the lads will want to see you’re still in one piece too.”
Getting no answer from his DCI, he glanced across at him. “Gene?”
Gene gave no indication that he had heard. He was watching Sam’s hands; on the gearstick, threading the wheel, using the indicators. Sam had to stretch his leg when he depressed the clutch, as he hadn’t adjusted the seat when he got in, and he could feel Gene’s eyes on his thigh, burning through the corduroy material.
He gave a little grin. Oh ho. Was this the real reason that Gene never let him drive? Too distracting? Right, he’d have to test this little theory out. He had a feeling he was going to enjoy this.
Stopping off at the Station, it was clear that Gene didn’t want to linger. He revelled in the adulation from his junior officers, due to his performance in the failed bank robbery the previous day, but uncharacteristically didn’t want to hang about. Gene was certain that Tyler was taking even longer than his picky pain usual to check through and sign off paperwork. He was anxious to get home and rut Sam into the nearest available surface. Eventually, they left amid choruses of “See you in the Arms later, Guv” and “Bet Tyler looks gorgeous in a nurse’s uniform, Guv.”
Walking back to the car, Sam tossed the Cortina’s key at Gene who caught them in his good hand. “Wanna drive, guv?”
Gene threw them back straightaway. “Don’t be a twat, Tyler. I’ve been doped up with painkillers. I’d be a danger to meself and other road-users.”
Ducking his head to hide a grin, Sam unlocked the car and they got in. Ok, so not only was Gene not driving, he was also quoting Sam’s argument back at him. Lookin’ good, Sammy-boy.
Glancing across at Sam as they pulled out of the parking space, Gene’s tongue ran along suddenly dry lips, and his breathing quickened. He lit up a cigarette for his hands to have something to do, but they shook a little. Sam was checking over his shoulder, and with the top buttons of his shirt undone, his slender neck was a little more exposed than usual. Gene had an image of a naked Sam beneath him, writhing and begging for more.
Bloody tablets, he thought. They’re supposed to calm me down, not hype me up. He swallowed hard and jumped, hitting his head on the door, when Sam’s hand grabbed his knee.
“Sorry, Gene ... missed the gearstick.”
“Uhuh.”
“You alright?”
“Yeah. Jus’... keep your fuckin’ eyes on the road, Gladys, will ya?”
“Yes, Guv.”
Gene tried to avert his eyes in a bid to fend off his growing erection, but found it quite impossible, given Sam’s proximity and the fact that the bastard seemed to delight in provoking a sick man. Did he have to run his hand up and down the gearstick idly, when he was waiting at a junction? Was it really necessary to stretch his leg that far when he pressed down on the clutch? And if he was only biting on his lower lip in concentration while threading the steering-wheel sensuously through his slender fingers, then Gene was going to have to get his medication changed, because it was causing the blood to flow towards his cock instead of his brain, and making his trousers extremely uncomfortable.
He was aware of Sam watching him at the next junction. “Ok, guv? You gettin’ a bit stressed? P’raps you should have a bit of a lie down when we get you home.”
More images, this time of a spread-eagled Sam, his hands pulling Gene towards him, caressing his body and inflaming his senses the way that only Sam knew how. Jesus, how could he get this way over a bloke? No woman had ever made him feel so out of control, the way that Sam did. It excited him. Although he would never tell him so, Sam was his equal in every way, and he knew that whatever thoughts he had concerning what he’d like to do to the smug little git would be reciprocated and fully acted upon at any opportunity.
He stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray, resisting the urge to light up again. Sam took in the flush on Gene’s neck, the shallow breathing and the way his hands kept pulling at his trousers in an effort to smooth them out and smirked to himself. He was feeling a little uncomfortable in the trouser department himself, and couldn’t wait to get home to exploit the situation.
Reaching their destination, Sam parked the car and leapt out, pretending he heard the phone ringing, as an excuse to get indoors before Gene had a chance to rut him against the front door.
In the kitchen, filling up the kettle, Sam heard Gene stride in and slam the front door to their flat. “Wanna cuppa?” he called out, knowing full well what the answer would be. A shiver ran down his spine and he wet his lips in anticipation. “Pink wafer?” he asked innocently, turning to see six feet of green-eyed, horny grizzly bear bearing down on him.
Gene wrenched the kettle out of his hands, slopping water out of the spout as it was put down roughly. “I don’t wanna bloody cuppa,” he growled, as his good arm snaked round the back of Sam to cradle his head, his fingers entwining in impossibly short hair, pulling him close to kiss him. “I wanna fuck you. Now.”
Sam’s eyes closed and his lips parted, letting out a moan that was swallowed hungrily by Gene as his mouth devoured Sam’s, his tongue sliding over lips and teeth, blocking out all coherent thought for Sam for a while.
Coming up for air, Gene noticed the faraway look on his DI’s face. “You still with me, Tyler?” he asked, narrowing his eyes, wondering if Sam was ‘away with the fairies’ again.
Sam opened his eyes and grinned, focussing on his DCI. “Very much so, guv. I’m not going anywhere just yet.”
“Good. Now get this bloody sling off me,” he snapped, flapping his injured arm at Sam and wincing. “It’s getting in the soddin’ way.”
“Now, now, you’re supposed to be resting,” Sam chided, his actions belying his words as he quickly undone the knot and threw the sling on the floor, closely followed by both of their shirts. Sam heard a sharp intake of breath from the older man as his shirt was carefully pushed over his shoulders and dropped to the floor.
Hands skimmed over Gene’s chest and stomach, eyes taking in the battle scars and dressings, then Sam lowered his head to gently kiss the bandage covering the newest injury. Gene hissed at the touch, the wound still feeling tender, but his hands crept around Sam’s waist, holding on to him.
“Not hurting, am I, Gene?” Sam murmured against the bandage, his lips moving along to find patches of bare skin that he licked at.
“Noooo...” Gene moaned, sucking in a breath and arching his neck, eager for Sam’s touch. “Make it better, Sammy. Please.”
Sam’s knees almost buckled at his words, and his hands slipped between their bodies to undo both pairs of trousers. His searching fingers found Gene’s hardened cock and he slid them up and down his shaft.
“Fuckin’ ’ell, Sam....”
Gene pushed Sam’s hand away and grabbed him by the hips and shoulders, twisting him round. Sam’s hands landed on the worktop with a slap and he felt Gene’s hands pushing his trousers and boxers down over his hips.
“Wha’ th....?” he moaned, relinquishing control. “Wouldn’t this be more ..... comfortable in the ........ ahhhhhhh .... bed....room?” Gene had put his hand on Sam’s back and was pushing him down to bend him over making it easier to apply a cold slippery substance between his buttocks.
Sam wasn’t really sure he could make it to the bedroom anyway. His erection was so hard it was aching, but he hadn’t touched it yet. He rested his forehead on his arms, enjoying the sensations that Gene was inducing, and wanting more.
“Can’t put weight on me arm. I’m better off here,” Gene explained, leaning over him, his fingers pushing into Sam. Sam moaned and thrust back against his hand, matching his rhythm, his own breathing ragged.
He staggered back a little when Gene withdrew his fingers and turned round to see what was going on. Gene was pumping his cock, coating it in Vaseline. Sam’s own cock twitched. “Want some help?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.
“I can manage,” Gene retorted, although Sam could see him wincing. His shoulder was hurting more than he would let on, but they were both too far gone to want to stop proceedings now. “Brace yourself, Sammy. I’m goin’ in.”
Sam turned round and put his hands on the worktop, bending at the waist. He felt Gene’s cock nudging at him and he relaxed, then he arched his back in carnal pleasure as Gene thrust inside him.
“Shit, that’s .... uhhhhhh....”
“Good, is it, Sammy-boy? The Gene Genie working his magic?” Gene’s breath was warm in Sam’s ear and he snuck his arm around Sam to grasp his cock and slide his hand up and down it, while maintaining the rhythm needed to bring them both to orgasm.
Grunting, both men began to lose themselves in the sheer pleasure of fucking. Sam was feeling himself get close when Gene slowed down the pace and took his hand away.
“Wha’s up?”
“Give us a minute, Sammy-boy.” Sam could hear the pain in his voice and pulled forward gently so that he was free of Gene’s cock, and turned round. He cupped Gene’s face with both his hands and kissed him, tenderly. Drawing back, he could see some of the tension leaving Gene’s face. They wove their arms around each other and stood hugging for a while.
“This hard-on’s not going down, guv,” Sam observed. “If your shoulder’s giving you jip, we can swap places, y’know.”
Gene’s hands moved down to Sam’s buttocks. “You mean...?”
Sam nodded. “Yeah. You against the worktop. Me...”
“Fuck off, Tyler.” He swung Sam around again and held onto his hips. “I’m the man. So I get to stand behind.”
Sam grinned. Whatever. As long as he got his end away, he didn’t care which way round they were. Taking hold of his cock, he slid his hand up and down the shaft with just the right amount of friction needed, while Gene thrust in again from behind.
“Fuck, Sammy, that’s.... ahhhhh.....shit ...”
“Oh God... oh, oh.... pass me that tea towel, Gene.... quick .... ahhh...”
Feeling that Sam was so close tipped Gene over the edge and after throwing Sam the tea towel he came with a yell that was half-laced with the pain in his shoulder. Sam followed seconds later, and they collapsed to the floor in a sweaty sated heap, both with huge grins on their faces.
“You big girl. What was that all about?”
“I had one hand on the worktop and it was holding us both up, so I couldn’t grab the towel. I didn’t particularly want to go crashing to the floor. You might have broken your knob off.”
“But, for God’s sake, why didn’t you just.....?”
“Ewww, guv. Didn’t want to splash it on the worktop. I have to prepare food on there.”
“But you swallow mine all the time.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“Just is.”
“...??...”
******************************************