Fic: After the Eye of the Storm
~~~
Felix slunk in the open door. His keen eyes darted to something glittering in the moonlight. Sharp pieces were twinkling. These could wound through soft unprotected skin and he knew to avoid them. He sniffed and observed that some of the pieces weren’t quite so sparkly.
These pieces were covered in a dark substance which smelled like prey, only not like prey. He mewed softly, his long dark tail twitching.
Another faint scent caught his attention. He skirted around a large fallen object and made his way through the dark room heading for another door which he padded through.
This room felt better. Nothing seemed out of place here. He wandered over to a bowl that was sitting near the annoying tiny door that was his usual means of entrance. There was no new food here and so he started to eat the dried up remains at the bottom of his dish.
~~~
Sam ducked swiftly to one side. “You’re not going to punch the shit out of me this time.”
With nothing to stop his forward momentum Gene toppled over onto the ground. Severely winded, he rolled into a sitting position, gasping for breath, knees bent.
“Don’t want to do that, not really.” He pushed his knees down and looked up at Sam. They were not trapped in a basement this time unable to escape from one another. It was Sam’s move.
His inspector crouched down nearby, watching him steadily. When Gene made no attempt to grab at him Sam seemed to decide that his next move would be closer. He kicked one leg out over Gene and sank down on his lap kneeling. Sam put his hands on Gene’s shoulders and spoke slowly.
“I need you to tell me what happened with Paul.”
“Who?”
“At the club.”
“Turn you on, does it? That I might have punched someone’s lights out, or worse, over you.”
Sam gazed intently waiting for an answer. Gene’s immediate answer was the one Sam wanted more than anything. He reached a hand out, grasped the front of Sam’s shirt and pulled him slowly forward. Sam let out a cry and pitched into the kiss. It was everything he remembered and more. His soft lips caressed Gene’s, mapping out every contour of his mouth. Gene put a hand on the back of Sam’s head making sure they stayed clamped together. He pushed his tongue deep into Sam’s mouth and tasted the hint of beer there. Sam huffed a breath into the kiss and pulled Gene’s hand away with his own.
“I can’t think. Do I need to call for help? Please tell me.”
“Thinking is overrated, especially by highly strung individuals like you.”
Once again Gene grabbed Sam’s shirt. He yanked it open looking at his chest, seeing the fine hair there and catching his breath as he looked down at his flat muscular stomach. He leaned forward and kissed and sucked Sam’s left nipple.
“Oh God, Gene. Please stop.” Sam’s tone told the truth.
He pushed upward unintentionally forcing Gene’s mouth to move down towards his abdomen and his hands to rest on his backside which he proceeded to squeeze and knead. Gene continued to kiss and then lick above Sam’s waistband. Sam put one of his own hands flat on his abdomen. He rubbed and soothed himself in intense arousal. Exquisite indecision played across his face.
“Go on Sam. This is what you want. Show me.” Gene looked up into Sam’s brown eyes. His own green eyes were pleading.
Sam grasped the top button of his jeans and pulled them open. This caused Gene to emit a small strangled whisper. “Yes.”
Sam pulled down his zip “Gene.”
Gene tugged down Sam’s jeans and underpants. He scrabbled upwards. Withdrawing his legs from under Sam, he knelt, hurriedly sitting back on his heels and hunching forward over Sam’s crotch. His arms embraced the waist of his trembling DI as he closed his eyes, took him into his mouth and began to suck gently. He relished the sensations, smells and sounds - boiling hot engorged flesh, musk and Sam gasping, almost sobbing, above him.
“Did, did you hurt him? Tell me.” Sam grasped Gene’s head pulling him forward sharply. He didn’t need an answer.
“Yes, yes. It does turn me on, makes me hard for you. After all I’ve tried. Thought you despised me. Laughed at me. Your face back there...” he tailed off into high pitched desperate sounds.
Gene increased the ferocity of his movements, licking, sucking and bringing a hand down to grasp the base of Sam’s cock. No sooner had he done that then Sam yelled and pitched forward heavily his orgasm ripping through him. Gene had to grab his waist firmly to keep him upright. The salty taste of Sam in his mouth so soon was a surprise, although he did his best to swallow everything. Every drop from the man he coveted and cherished above all else.
Sam wobbled as he sank down slowly. Gene unbent his cramped legs and stood up.
“I’m not finished.” He pulled Sam to his feet, drawing his jeans back up around his waist. Sam slumped into him like a rag doll. Gene turned him around and pushed him into a dirty wooden door. He jerked him back, before opening the door and pushing him through. It appeared to be a deserted warehouse. The dark shapes of a few long forgotten barrels could be seen and the atmosphere inside smelt faintly like a brewery. Sam, ever the worrier, then tried to ruin the bloody good sex with his ingrained doubt.
“I didn’t mean it. I don’t want anyone hurt over me. Not for this, it’s too important.”
“Trust me. I’m a policeman.”
“As am I, Guv.”
“Nope. As of this evening you are a complete tart.”
Sam smiled. “We could take this somewhere else. Somewhere...softer.”
“Not until I’ve left a few marks on your skinny hips. You don’t get hearts and flowers this time Jezebel. Only a good hard...”
“Yeah, OK Gene. I get the message. Lay on, Macduff, And damn'd be him that first cries, 'Hold, enough!’”
“That my dear Sammy is about a fight to the death. I did it at school.”
“Not far from the truth then, Guv. Depends what sort of death you mean.” Sam smirked at his own cleverness.
“Just a little one. ” Gene let out a bellowing laugh at the expression of utter astonishment on Sam’s face. “I know a bit of French too. “
~~~~
Craig Baker sauntered up to the club. It was early morning and his stomach was rumbling. If he was lucky Paul would be there to tidy up the place and get it ready for the Saturday evening rush. He smiled to himself, not that the club ever got that busy. Mind you, it could get better with the customers he’d drummed up over the last few days. Maybe police officers weren’t ideal clientele but he’d got a feeling that the two he’d spoken to weren’t your average coppers. The outer door was open. Baker poked his head through and shouted.
“Paul. I’m in need of a bacon butty mate. I’ve worked up a right appetite.”
There was no response. Baker cautiously ventured further in. He could see that the bar was far from orderly. A bar stool lay on its side and he stopped as he felt the crunch of glass under his foot.
He lifted his foot in annoyance and started to tread more carefully. “Shit!” Baker stooped down. There was blood on the jagged edges of a smashed glass. He started to make a hasty exit, in a quandary about who to call and what to do next. As he passed a store cupboard door it began to rattle. The door was held closed by a hasp slung across it with a padlock through the staple. The shackle was not shut into the body of the padlock. He jumped and was about to run when he heard a voice.
“Open this door. Let me out.” Craig was amazed to recognize the voice on the other side of the door.
“What are you doing in there, Paul?”
The response was equally familiar and also terse. “Just shut up Craig and let me out.”
Baker pulled the padlock away and opened the hasp. Paul burst out of the cleaning cupboard like an overlarge dishevelled cuckoo.
“Christ. I wish I hadn’t tried to follow them.”
“Who?”
“The best looking bloke I’ve seen in ages, present company included, and his fucking deranged boyfriend.”
Craig affected a melodramatic air of wounded pride. This seemed to snap Paul out of his flustered state and he swiped him across the top of his head, ruffling his hair. He winced as he caught his cloth wrapped hand. “Ouch! I cut my hand on some sodding glass when that bloody great Neanderthal pushed me over. He didn’t even check to see how bad it was! Christ only knows how they found this place. Only a complete moron would be idiotic enough to pass on invites to that pair.”
Baker shrugged, managing to look clueless regarding Paul’s speculation. His friend did not look to be on the verge of bleeding to death and so he helped him to sit down before nipping behind the bar to pour them both a large drink.
fin
Felix slunk in the open door. His keen eyes darted to something glittering in the moonlight. Sharp pieces were twinkling. These could wound through soft unprotected skin and he knew to avoid them. He sniffed and observed that some of the pieces weren’t quite so sparkly.
These pieces were covered in a dark substance which smelled like prey, only not like prey. He mewed softly, his long dark tail twitching.
Another faint scent caught his attention. He skirted around a large fallen object and made his way through the dark room heading for another door which he padded through.
This room felt better. Nothing seemed out of place here. He wandered over to a bowl that was sitting near the annoying tiny door that was his usual means of entrance. There was no new food here and so he started to eat the dried up remains at the bottom of his dish.
~~~
Sam ducked swiftly to one side. “You’re not going to punch the shit out of me this time.”
With nothing to stop his forward momentum Gene toppled over onto the ground. Severely winded, he rolled into a sitting position, gasping for breath, knees bent.
“Don’t want to do that, not really.” He pushed his knees down and looked up at Sam. They were not trapped in a basement this time unable to escape from one another. It was Sam’s move.
His inspector crouched down nearby, watching him steadily. When Gene made no attempt to grab at him Sam seemed to decide that his next move would be closer. He kicked one leg out over Gene and sank down on his lap kneeling. Sam put his hands on Gene’s shoulders and spoke slowly.
“I need you to tell me what happened with Paul.”
“Who?”
“At the club.”
“Turn you on, does it? That I might have punched someone’s lights out, or worse, over you.”
Sam gazed intently waiting for an answer. Gene’s immediate answer was the one Sam wanted more than anything. He reached a hand out, grasped the front of Sam’s shirt and pulled him slowly forward. Sam let out a cry and pitched into the kiss. It was everything he remembered and more. His soft lips caressed Gene’s, mapping out every contour of his mouth. Gene put a hand on the back of Sam’s head making sure they stayed clamped together. He pushed his tongue deep into Sam’s mouth and tasted the hint of beer there. Sam huffed a breath into the kiss and pulled Gene’s hand away with his own.
“I can’t think. Do I need to call for help? Please tell me.”
“Thinking is overrated, especially by highly strung individuals like you.”
Once again Gene grabbed Sam’s shirt. He yanked it open looking at his chest, seeing the fine hair there and catching his breath as he looked down at his flat muscular stomach. He leaned forward and kissed and sucked Sam’s left nipple.
“Oh God, Gene. Please stop.” Sam’s tone told the truth.
He pushed upward unintentionally forcing Gene’s mouth to move down towards his abdomen and his hands to rest on his backside which he proceeded to squeeze and knead. Gene continued to kiss and then lick above Sam’s waistband. Sam put one of his own hands flat on his abdomen. He rubbed and soothed himself in intense arousal. Exquisite indecision played across his face.
“Go on Sam. This is what you want. Show me.” Gene looked up into Sam’s brown eyes. His own green eyes were pleading.
Sam grasped the top button of his jeans and pulled them open. This caused Gene to emit a small strangled whisper. “Yes.”
Sam pulled down his zip “Gene.”
Gene tugged down Sam’s jeans and underpants. He scrabbled upwards. Withdrawing his legs from under Sam, he knelt, hurriedly sitting back on his heels and hunching forward over Sam’s crotch. His arms embraced the waist of his trembling DI as he closed his eyes, took him into his mouth and began to suck gently. He relished the sensations, smells and sounds - boiling hot engorged flesh, musk and Sam gasping, almost sobbing, above him.
“Did, did you hurt him? Tell me.” Sam grasped Gene’s head pulling him forward sharply. He didn’t need an answer.
“Yes, yes. It does turn me on, makes me hard for you. After all I’ve tried. Thought you despised me. Laughed at me. Your face back there...” he tailed off into high pitched desperate sounds.
Gene increased the ferocity of his movements, licking, sucking and bringing a hand down to grasp the base of Sam’s cock. No sooner had he done that then Sam yelled and pitched forward heavily his orgasm ripping through him. Gene had to grab his waist firmly to keep him upright. The salty taste of Sam in his mouth so soon was a surprise, although he did his best to swallow everything. Every drop from the man he coveted and cherished above all else.
Sam wobbled as he sank down slowly. Gene unbent his cramped legs and stood up.
“I’m not finished.” He pulled Sam to his feet, drawing his jeans back up around his waist. Sam slumped into him like a rag doll. Gene turned him around and pushed him into a dirty wooden door. He jerked him back, before opening the door and pushing him through. It appeared to be a deserted warehouse. The dark shapes of a few long forgotten barrels could be seen and the atmosphere inside smelt faintly like a brewery. Sam, ever the worrier, then tried to ruin the bloody good sex with his ingrained doubt.
“I didn’t mean it. I don’t want anyone hurt over me. Not for this, it’s too important.”
“Trust me. I’m a policeman.”
“As am I, Guv.”
“Nope. As of this evening you are a complete tart.”
Sam smiled. “We could take this somewhere else. Somewhere...softer.”
“Not until I’ve left a few marks on your skinny hips. You don’t get hearts and flowers this time Jezebel. Only a good hard...”
“Yeah, OK Gene. I get the message. Lay on, Macduff, And damn'd be him that first cries, 'Hold, enough!’”
“That my dear Sammy is about a fight to the death. I did it at school.”
“Not far from the truth then, Guv. Depends what sort of death you mean.” Sam smirked at his own cleverness.
“Just a little one. ” Gene let out a bellowing laugh at the expression of utter astonishment on Sam’s face. “I know a bit of French too. “
~~~~
Craig Baker sauntered up to the club. It was early morning and his stomach was rumbling. If he was lucky Paul would be there to tidy up the place and get it ready for the Saturday evening rush. He smiled to himself, not that the club ever got that busy. Mind you, it could get better with the customers he’d drummed up over the last few days. Maybe police officers weren’t ideal clientele but he’d got a feeling that the two he’d spoken to weren’t your average coppers. The outer door was open. Baker poked his head through and shouted.
“Paul. I’m in need of a bacon butty mate. I’ve worked up a right appetite.”
There was no response. Baker cautiously ventured further in. He could see that the bar was far from orderly. A bar stool lay on its side and he stopped as he felt the crunch of glass under his foot.
He lifted his foot in annoyance and started to tread more carefully. “Shit!” Baker stooped down. There was blood on the jagged edges of a smashed glass. He started to make a hasty exit, in a quandary about who to call and what to do next. As he passed a store cupboard door it began to rattle. The door was held closed by a hasp slung across it with a padlock through the staple. The shackle was not shut into the body of the padlock. He jumped and was about to run when he heard a voice.
“Open this door. Let me out.” Craig was amazed to recognize the voice on the other side of the door.
“What are you doing in there, Paul?”
The response was equally familiar and also terse. “Just shut up Craig and let me out.”
Baker pulled the padlock away and opened the hasp. Paul burst out of the cleaning cupboard like an overlarge dishevelled cuckoo.
“Christ. I wish I hadn’t tried to follow them.”
“Who?”
“The best looking bloke I’ve seen in ages, present company included, and his fucking deranged boyfriend.”
Craig affected a melodramatic air of wounded pride. This seemed to snap Paul out of his flustered state and he swiped him across the top of his head, ruffling his hair. He winced as he caught his cloth wrapped hand. “Ouch! I cut my hand on some sodding glass when that bloody great Neanderthal pushed me over. He didn’t even check to see how bad it was! Christ only knows how they found this place. Only a complete moron would be idiotic enough to pass on invites to that pair.”
Baker shrugged, managing to look clueless regarding Paul’s speculation. His friend did not look to be on the verge of bleeding to death and so he helped him to sit down before nipping behind the bar to pour them both a large drink.
fin