In Touch
Title: In Touch
Author: dakfinv
Recipient: jean_geanie
Rating: dark blue cortina
Word Count: 989
Notes/Warnings: brief sexual references, slightly cracky
Summary: "Come now, Mr. Hunt, don't you think it's time you learned to share?"
“Give him back!”
“Whomever do you mean?”
“You bloody well know who, Litton! Where’s me DI?”
“Your DI? Come now, Mr. Hunt, don’t you think it’s time you learned to share?”
“I’ll share my fist with your face if you don’t tell me where he is.”
“Hold your punches, Gene. I have no idea where your little Inspector’s run off to, but if I see him, I’ll be sure to tell him you called. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have actual work to attend to. Don't worry. I'm sure he'll be in touch. Au revoir.”
There was a long silence, then heavy loafer-clad feet stomped out of the room. Lighter footsteps followed in their wake, followed by the snap of plastic blinds. The soft feet crossed back across the room. Suddenly, the cabinet door was wrenched open and Sam came tumbling out.
His eyes were unadjusted to the bright, electric lights and he blinked rapidly in an effort to achieve clear vision. He wanted to scream for Gene, but the thick, cloth gag prevented him from saying anything at all.
“Well, I thought he’d never leave,” Litton sighed dramatically and grabbed Sam by the elbow, hoisting him to his feet. It was hard for Sam to maintain his balance with both hands and ankles tied. It was only Litton’s firm grip that kept him upright.
“Now, where were we? Ah yes,” his captor grinned wickedly, the man’s tiny mustache only making him appear even more sinister. Litton dragged him across the room and forced him into a chair. Pulling his own next to Sam’s, Litton sat down gracefully, organized the pens on his desk, then turned to Sam.
“If I remove the gag, will you promise not to scream?”
Sam nodded fervently, his eyes wide with compliance.
“Alright, then.” Litton reached up his hands and slowly lowered the gag. Sam immediately began shouting for help. Litton hurriedly replaced the gag then slapped him across the face.
“Good DIs don’t break their promises, Mr. Tyler. Don’t you want to be a good DI?”
Sam narrowed his eyes and glared.
“Fine. We’ll just have to pretend then, won’t we?” Litton turned back to his desk and grabbed a file from the top of his inbox. “Ah yes. This case is very important, isn’t it my ducky DI?”
Sam cocked to his to the side.
“The great Cat Napper! Oh yes, yes, yes. We’ll need all our wits about us for this one,” Litton giggled.
Sam swallowed nervously.
“Now,” Litton opened the file and showed it to Sam. “The Cat Napper was last spotted poaching kittens from Miss Lisa’s Kitty Emporium in Blackley.”
Sam muttered something through the gag.
“Yes. That is precisely what I thought. We make such a good team, don’t we, my precious, little Inspector? But, no. Miss Lisa had not yet applied for cat insurance.”
Sam whimpered through the gag.
Before Litton could pose his next question, the doors to his office were kicked in and there in all his glory stood Gene Hunt - tall, proud, and gun pointed firmly at Litton’s head.
“I knew you had him, you nancy arsed little git. I’d know that girly scream anywhere. Sam - get away from him.”
Sam mumbled as loudly as he could that he could not, indeed, move, and struggled to wave the arms that were tied behind his back. Gene rolled his eyes and, gun poised, lifted Sam from the chair and pulled him up. Keeping one eye on Litton, as well as the barrel of the gun, he knelt down and undid the ties binding Sam’s ankles. Standing up, Gene then lowered the gag, leaving it dangling around Sam’s neck.
“Don’t think I’ve ever been that happy to see you,” Sam sighed, scraping the fuzz of the cloth off his tongue with his teeth, while he rested his head on Gene’s shoulder, relishing the relief.
“I can see that Sammy-boy,” Gene nodded downwards and Sam looked at his crotch, where a healthy erection was forming inside his very tight trousers. Sam blushed and looked away.
“It’s, uhm...” he glanced at Litton, then gently motioned for Gene to follow him to the door. Slightly away from the insane DCI, who was still watching him with greedy eyes, Sam whispered to Gene.
“It’s the ropes. I told you before I didn’t want to try it, but, Christ. Gene,” he glanced at Litton, then dropped his voice again. “I’m horny as all hell here. The bondage. You. The gun. Shit...”
“Lost and Found,” Gene nodded firmly. “I’ll meet you there, soon as I finish with this swine.”
Sam nodded anxiously, then hurried out of the room, hands still tied firmly behind his back, desperately hoping Gene would finished with Litton sooner rather than later.
*
Gene watched Sam scamper away to safety, then returned his attention to Litton.
“So,” he drawled, his eyes narrowing. “How much do I owe you?” he asked, tucking away the gun.
“Well, there’s the two pounds for the supplies - the gag and the length of rope - another five for the actual kidnapping, plus compensation for making me look a total prat--”
“You are a total prat.”
“Twenty pounds.”
“Twenty quid? You said fifteen before! And I said no damage. That slap could’ve bruised him.”
“You’re the one that was desperate to get DI Tyler in touch with his...what did you call it? His kinky side? Now, how long will he wait there, curled up in a corner of Lost and Found, with its nice, thick walls. Arms still bound behind his back. The rope scratching at his skin. Poor Sam, unable to attend to the growing pressure in those skin-tight trousers. The sweat beading on his forehead as he desperately tries to rub himself off on the cold, dirty floor...”
Gene slapped the money on the desk and ran out of the room.
“Pleasure doing business with you!” Litton shouted.
Author: dakfinv
Recipient: jean_geanie
Rating: dark blue cortina
Word Count: 989
Notes/Warnings: brief sexual references, slightly cracky
Summary: "Come now, Mr. Hunt, don't you think it's time you learned to share?"
“Give him back!”
“Whomever do you mean?”
“You bloody well know who, Litton! Where’s me DI?”
“Your DI? Come now, Mr. Hunt, don’t you think it’s time you learned to share?”
“I’ll share my fist with your face if you don’t tell me where he is.”
“Hold your punches, Gene. I have no idea where your little Inspector’s run off to, but if I see him, I’ll be sure to tell him you called. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have actual work to attend to. Don't worry. I'm sure he'll be in touch. Au revoir.”
There was a long silence, then heavy loafer-clad feet stomped out of the room. Lighter footsteps followed in their wake, followed by the snap of plastic blinds. The soft feet crossed back across the room. Suddenly, the cabinet door was wrenched open and Sam came tumbling out.
His eyes were unadjusted to the bright, electric lights and he blinked rapidly in an effort to achieve clear vision. He wanted to scream for Gene, but the thick, cloth gag prevented him from saying anything at all.
“Well, I thought he’d never leave,” Litton sighed dramatically and grabbed Sam by the elbow, hoisting him to his feet. It was hard for Sam to maintain his balance with both hands and ankles tied. It was only Litton’s firm grip that kept him upright.
“Now, where were we? Ah yes,” his captor grinned wickedly, the man’s tiny mustache only making him appear even more sinister. Litton dragged him across the room and forced him into a chair. Pulling his own next to Sam’s, Litton sat down gracefully, organized the pens on his desk, then turned to Sam.
“If I remove the gag, will you promise not to scream?”
Sam nodded fervently, his eyes wide with compliance.
“Alright, then.” Litton reached up his hands and slowly lowered the gag. Sam immediately began shouting for help. Litton hurriedly replaced the gag then slapped him across the face.
“Good DIs don’t break their promises, Mr. Tyler. Don’t you want to be a good DI?”
Sam narrowed his eyes and glared.
“Fine. We’ll just have to pretend then, won’t we?” Litton turned back to his desk and grabbed a file from the top of his inbox. “Ah yes. This case is very important, isn’t it my ducky DI?”
Sam cocked to his to the side.
“The great Cat Napper! Oh yes, yes, yes. We’ll need all our wits about us for this one,” Litton giggled.
Sam swallowed nervously.
“Now,” Litton opened the file and showed it to Sam. “The Cat Napper was last spotted poaching kittens from Miss Lisa’s Kitty Emporium in Blackley.”
Sam muttered something through the gag.
“Yes. That is precisely what I thought. We make such a good team, don’t we, my precious, little Inspector? But, no. Miss Lisa had not yet applied for cat insurance.”
Sam whimpered through the gag.
Before Litton could pose his next question, the doors to his office were kicked in and there in all his glory stood Gene Hunt - tall, proud, and gun pointed firmly at Litton’s head.
“I knew you had him, you nancy arsed little git. I’d know that girly scream anywhere. Sam - get away from him.”
Sam mumbled as loudly as he could that he could not, indeed, move, and struggled to wave the arms that were tied behind his back. Gene rolled his eyes and, gun poised, lifted Sam from the chair and pulled him up. Keeping one eye on Litton, as well as the barrel of the gun, he knelt down and undid the ties binding Sam’s ankles. Standing up, Gene then lowered the gag, leaving it dangling around Sam’s neck.
“Don’t think I’ve ever been that happy to see you,” Sam sighed, scraping the fuzz of the cloth off his tongue with his teeth, while he rested his head on Gene’s shoulder, relishing the relief.
“I can see that Sammy-boy,” Gene nodded downwards and Sam looked at his crotch, where a healthy erection was forming inside his very tight trousers. Sam blushed and looked away.
“It’s, uhm...” he glanced at Litton, then gently motioned for Gene to follow him to the door. Slightly away from the insane DCI, who was still watching him with greedy eyes, Sam whispered to Gene.
“It’s the ropes. I told you before I didn’t want to try it, but, Christ. Gene,” he glanced at Litton, then dropped his voice again. “I’m horny as all hell here. The bondage. You. The gun. Shit...”
“Lost and Found,” Gene nodded firmly. “I’ll meet you there, soon as I finish with this swine.”
Sam nodded anxiously, then hurried out of the room, hands still tied firmly behind his back, desperately hoping Gene would finished with Litton sooner rather than later.
*
Gene watched Sam scamper away to safety, then returned his attention to Litton.
“So,” he drawled, his eyes narrowing. “How much do I owe you?” he asked, tucking away the gun.
“Well, there’s the two pounds for the supplies - the gag and the length of rope - another five for the actual kidnapping, plus compensation for making me look a total prat--”
“You are a total prat.”
“Twenty pounds.”
“Twenty quid? You said fifteen before! And I said no damage. That slap could’ve bruised him.”
“You’re the one that was desperate to get DI Tyler in touch with his...what did you call it? His kinky side? Now, how long will he wait there, curled up in a corner of Lost and Found, with its nice, thick walls. Arms still bound behind his back. The rope scratching at his skin. Poor Sam, unable to attend to the growing pressure in those skin-tight trousers. The sweat beading on his forehead as he desperately tries to rub himself off on the cold, dirty floor...”
Gene slapped the money on the desk and ran out of the room.
“Pleasure doing business with you!” Litton shouted.