Fic: Taken (Life on Mars) Adult, Dark. Sam, Gene
Fic: Taken
Author: amproof
Rating: Red Cortina (Rape, language, violence)
Disclaimer: Not mine. If they were, I sure wouldn't do this to them.
Characters: Gene, Sam
Notes: This can stand alone, but there is a possibility I'll do a proper story with it. Words: 629
He took him from behind. That was the reason he got the best of Gene, sneaking up in the dark behind him, ramming him into the wall so hard that the Genie saw stars sparkling when his eyes rolled back. He let out a grunt, tried to turn around and get his fists up. He got one in the neck for his efforts. A hand on his hair, and then…head, meet dresser. He dropped to his knees and stayed there, hovering, forehead sticky with sweat and blood.
"I know why you're here," Sam said, and punched him in the mouth.
The expectoration of spit and blood. "I'll take a wager you don't." Gene didn't know how understood he could make himself, what with the broken teeth knocking around in his mouth.
"You're meant to keep me here. Well, you won't do it." He stuck his face in Gene's ear, sneering with his perfect, straight, white, unBritish teeth. "I won't let you." A foot in Gene's side. He caught himself on his arm before he toppled over. Sam hop-kicked and Gene did fall. He rolled up on his knees, legs twitching to hurl himself at Sam. He launched, something guttural ripped from his throat. He landed on the puke-colored carpet. Fucker must have moved. Couldn't be that the Genie's aim was wrong. He stayed on his stomach and pressed his hands to his head to keep it from wandering off.
"I just came to check on you. They said you inhaled something on the job today. Ray said you were acting more of a wanker than usual." He looked up. "I'd say that was something of an understatement." Christ, the carpet stank. Made his eyes water.
The man looking down at him had dead eyes. Fear spread through Gene's gut and hitched a ride on his blood cells to every nook and cranny of his body.
"Well. I see you're fine. I'll just let you sleep it off." He started crawling towards the door.
Foot. Spine. Stomach to the floor. Hands on his waist. Trousers yanked down. Cursing the Mrs. Genie for making him cut back on the butter. Five pounds lost that would have made his slacks that much harder to pull off. Then. Sound of a zip. Knees between his thighs. Fingers poking where they shouldn't.
"Sammy boy, you don't want to do this now. You'll regret it in the morning." Voice shaking so much he didn't know it was his.
The question. More pain to move? Or to stay? His tongue hit a broken tooth and the scream of nerves fogged his sight with tears.
"You will let me go. I will make you." His voice was as cold as his eyes. No, not cold. Determined. Like he'd figured something out and was… proud of himself.
Gene can't even think of the man behind him as Sam. Hyde, he thought. That's what this is. I've stumbled into a damned Victorian fable. Inhale something. Turn into a bleeping monster.
He swallowed his scream when not-Sam shoved inside him. He swallowed it again when not-Sam started pounding him like some kind of nancy boy caveman.
But he would not swallow his revenge. He would have his own back. Oh, yeah.
'Sammy boy, you are in for a very tough week.'
"Let me go. Let me go. Let me go." Pounding. Chanting. He was crying, not-Sam was, tears falling onto Gene's back.
Like Hell, Sam. Like fucking Hell. He twisted around, grabbed not-Sam's wrist.
"You. Are. Mine. For good. You got that?"
The look on the prat's face was worth the fist against his temple and the explosion of pain that followed. Oh, yes, it certainly was, the Genie thought, as his head hit the floor, unconscious, a millisecond later.
Author: amproof
Rating: Red Cortina (Rape, language, violence)
Disclaimer: Not mine. If they were, I sure wouldn't do this to them.
Characters: Gene, Sam
Notes: This can stand alone, but there is a possibility I'll do a proper story with it. Words: 629
He took him from behind. That was the reason he got the best of Gene, sneaking up in the dark behind him, ramming him into the wall so hard that the Genie saw stars sparkling when his eyes rolled back. He let out a grunt, tried to turn around and get his fists up. He got one in the neck for his efforts. A hand on his hair, and then…head, meet dresser. He dropped to his knees and stayed there, hovering, forehead sticky with sweat and blood.
"I know why you're here," Sam said, and punched him in the mouth.
The expectoration of spit and blood. "I'll take a wager you don't." Gene didn't know how understood he could make himself, what with the broken teeth knocking around in his mouth.
"You're meant to keep me here. Well, you won't do it." He stuck his face in Gene's ear, sneering with his perfect, straight, white, unBritish teeth. "I won't let you." A foot in Gene's side. He caught himself on his arm before he toppled over. Sam hop-kicked and Gene did fall. He rolled up on his knees, legs twitching to hurl himself at Sam. He launched, something guttural ripped from his throat. He landed on the puke-colored carpet. Fucker must have moved. Couldn't be that the Genie's aim was wrong. He stayed on his stomach and pressed his hands to his head to keep it from wandering off.
"I just came to check on you. They said you inhaled something on the job today. Ray said you were acting more of a wanker than usual." He looked up. "I'd say that was something of an understatement." Christ, the carpet stank. Made his eyes water.
The man looking down at him had dead eyes. Fear spread through Gene's gut and hitched a ride on his blood cells to every nook and cranny of his body.
"Well. I see you're fine. I'll just let you sleep it off." He started crawling towards the door.
Foot. Spine. Stomach to the floor. Hands on his waist. Trousers yanked down. Cursing the Mrs. Genie for making him cut back on the butter. Five pounds lost that would have made his slacks that much harder to pull off. Then. Sound of a zip. Knees between his thighs. Fingers poking where they shouldn't.
"Sammy boy, you don't want to do this now. You'll regret it in the morning." Voice shaking so much he didn't know it was his.
The question. More pain to move? Or to stay? His tongue hit a broken tooth and the scream of nerves fogged his sight with tears.
"You will let me go. I will make you." His voice was as cold as his eyes. No, not cold. Determined. Like he'd figured something out and was… proud of himself.
Gene can't even think of the man behind him as Sam. Hyde, he thought. That's what this is. I've stumbled into a damned Victorian fable. Inhale something. Turn into a bleeping monster.
He swallowed his scream when not-Sam shoved inside him. He swallowed it again when not-Sam started pounding him like some kind of nancy boy caveman.
But he would not swallow his revenge. He would have his own back. Oh, yeah.
'Sammy boy, you are in for a very tough week.'
"Let me go. Let me go. Let me go." Pounding. Chanting. He was crying, not-Sam was, tears falling onto Gene's back.
Like Hell, Sam. Like fucking Hell. He twisted around, grabbed not-Sam's wrist.
"You. Are. Mine. For good. You got that?"
The look on the prat's face was worth the fist against his temple and the explosion of pain that followed. Oh, yes, it certainly was, the Genie thought, as his head hit the floor, unconscious, a millisecond later.