Old Zen Paradox by Halotolerant (NC-17)
Fandom: LIFE ON MARS
Pairing: Sam Tyler/Gene Hunt
Author on LJ: halotolerant
Author Website: n/a
Why this must be read:
Or: If two policeman shag and no one hears them, does that mean it didn't happen?
This is probably my favourite Sam/Gene fic out there. It is an absolutely beautiful character piece on the pairing, warts and all, and how they overcome the difficulties of being two 70's coppers who just happen to be shagging.
Music had never exactly played a large role in Gene Hunt’s sex life. Not, that is, beyond the loud stuff in a club that would prevent the bird of the moment hearing him change her drinks order to a double. He had always felt that he was above using heavy songs for seduction - not for him long steamy ballads from a record player or - heaven help us - going to one of those poncey restaurants where flipping violin players lurked over your shoulder.
For these reasons, sex for Gene had always sounded like, well, like sex. Like fucking - movement, moaning, wet noises and the slap of skin against skin. The noises you got through a wall, the noises they shoved onto porno flicks to help you get your jollies. Gloriously impersonal and wonderfully gratifying.
Not any more though.
Now the soundtrack of sex - the thuds and cries, whimpers and yells that had always been a victory parade - had to be removed and replaced.
Now that he was having sex with Sam Tyler.
That Old Zen Paradox
Pairing: Sam Tyler/Gene Hunt
Author on LJ: halotolerant
Author Website: n/a
Why this must be read:
Or: If two policeman shag and no one hears them, does that mean it didn't happen?
This is probably my favourite Sam/Gene fic out there. It is an absolutely beautiful character piece on the pairing, warts and all, and how they overcome the difficulties of being two 70's coppers who just happen to be shagging.
Music had never exactly played a large role in Gene Hunt’s sex life. Not, that is, beyond the loud stuff in a club that would prevent the bird of the moment hearing him change her drinks order to a double. He had always felt that he was above using heavy songs for seduction - not for him long steamy ballads from a record player or - heaven help us - going to one of those poncey restaurants where flipping violin players lurked over your shoulder.
For these reasons, sex for Gene had always sounded like, well, like sex. Like fucking - movement, moaning, wet noises and the slap of skin against skin. The noises you got through a wall, the noises they shoved onto porno flicks to help you get your jollies. Gloriously impersonal and wonderfully gratifying.
Not any more though.
Now the soundtrack of sex - the thuds and cries, whimpers and yells that had always been a victory parade - had to be removed and replaced.
Now that he was having sex with Sam Tyler.
That Old Zen Paradox