Fic: From the Shadows
Title: From the Shadows
Rating: Brown Cortina
Pairing: Sam/Gene
Word Count: 604
Notes: This is a prompt from a book called 3 A.M. Epiphany that I got for
dragonlit for her birthday. We decided to do some of the prompts and the first one called for a first person narrative only using the word I twice, but without surprising the reader that it is first person. I had to use Sam/Gene for it of course, and it was written during the worlds longest layover ever (9 hours in D.C. during mad thunderstorms and tornado warnings.) It kept me sane. Prompt also called for it to be 600 words, and I came in at 604. Also, betad by the wonderful
dragonlit *loves*
Summary: Someone watches Sam and Gene from the shadows in that dim alleyway. PWP.
They’re in the dim, cold alley behind the pub, where I sometimes find them. It should feel dirty, hiding in the shadows, watching as their want unfolds into desperate need, but it’s raw and harsh and real. Maybe a better man could resist, give them their moment of privacy, but here in the dark of the night they play like a dangerous, dark symphony and maybe even the better man wouldn’t be able to drag his eyes away.
The alley is small, though wide enough to be the Cortina’s private parking space, and there she is waiting for the boys, almost a third partner in their encounter. Gene is caught in some sort of fantasy sandwich; Sam up against the rough brick of the building in front of him and Gene up against the smooth steel of the Cortina behind him, nothing but shared breathe between them. Gene looks at Sam, always looks at him, questioning him with unspoken words, looking for the right page in the book. This night, Sam answers with wild intensity, staring Gene down as he draws his own hand over the fastenings of his pants, pops the button and tugs the zip.
One boot is quickly kicked off and lands with a thud before Gene grabs hold of Sam’s hips and helps to rid him partly of his clothing. Sam somehow manages his way out of one leg before hoisting himself up, using the hood of the Cortina for leverage as he wraps his legs around Gene. Gene eyes Sam with a slight hint of wonder in his eyes, mixed there with sheer lust and wild abandonment. His hands are travelling up Sam’s legs as he moves in closer still, biting at Sam’s lower lip and waiting for the inevitable cry before plunging his tongue into Sam’s mouth, swallowing the cry, allowing it to spur him further on.
Sam is reaching for Gene, hands desperately groping through thin polyester at the heat that lie beneath. Gene groans as the cool air and the heat of Sam’s hands make their way into his pants. Sam is in a rush tonight, needier and more focussed than other nights, wanting only this one thing, needing only to feel Gene inside of him. The angle is all wrong; Sam will have bruises and cuts from pushing his back against the wall and Gene might dent the Cortina with his vicious thrusts into Sam, but there in that alley with Sam wrapped around him he doesn’t look like he cares. Sam is whimpering, pleading, groaning...Gene, please...Guv, fuck...God, yes....And Gene is pumping, thrusting, taking...Sam, please...fuck...dirty boy...God, yes...And one is coming and then the other, pushing each other over the edge with harsh words and whispered names.
There is stillness then, as they come down from their crescendo, a tender moment so different in flavour from mere moments before. Gene’s head rests against Sam’s, thumbs coming up to wipe at the silent tears that fall after such intensity, lips whispering words not meant for anyone but the two of them. They stay like that for awhile, until the awkwardness of the position or maybe the click of the back door to the pub being locked finally drags them back out of each other and into the reality of the night. Gene lifts Sam up by the waist, high enough to allow his legs to fall back to the ground. Sam pulls the rest of his pants back on as Gene fetches the boot from its discarded position, right at my feet. I tip my hat to him with a wink and fall back into the shadows.
Rating: Brown Cortina
Pairing: Sam/Gene
Word Count: 604
Notes: This is a prompt from a book called 3 A.M. Epiphany that I got for
dragonlit for her birthday. We decided to do some of the prompts and the first one called for a first person narrative only using the word I twice, but without surprising the reader that it is first person. I had to use Sam/Gene for it of course, and it was written during the worlds longest layover ever (9 hours in D.C. during mad thunderstorms and tornado warnings.) It kept me sane. Prompt also called for it to be 600 words, and I came in at 604. Also, betad by the wonderful
dragonlit *loves*
Summary: Someone watches Sam and Gene from the shadows in that dim alleyway. PWP.
They’re in the dim, cold alley behind the pub, where I sometimes find them. It should feel dirty, hiding in the shadows, watching as their want unfolds into desperate need, but it’s raw and harsh and real. Maybe a better man could resist, give them their moment of privacy, but here in the dark of the night they play like a dangerous, dark symphony and maybe even the better man wouldn’t be able to drag his eyes away.
The alley is small, though wide enough to be the Cortina’s private parking space, and there she is waiting for the boys, almost a third partner in their encounter. Gene is caught in some sort of fantasy sandwich; Sam up against the rough brick of the building in front of him and Gene up against the smooth steel of the Cortina behind him, nothing but shared breathe between them. Gene looks at Sam, always looks at him, questioning him with unspoken words, looking for the right page in the book. This night, Sam answers with wild intensity, staring Gene down as he draws his own hand over the fastenings of his pants, pops the button and tugs the zip.
One boot is quickly kicked off and lands with a thud before Gene grabs hold of Sam’s hips and helps to rid him partly of his clothing. Sam somehow manages his way out of one leg before hoisting himself up, using the hood of the Cortina for leverage as he wraps his legs around Gene. Gene eyes Sam with a slight hint of wonder in his eyes, mixed there with sheer lust and wild abandonment. His hands are travelling up Sam’s legs as he moves in closer still, biting at Sam’s lower lip and waiting for the inevitable cry before plunging his tongue into Sam’s mouth, swallowing the cry, allowing it to spur him further on.
Sam is reaching for Gene, hands desperately groping through thin polyester at the heat that lie beneath. Gene groans as the cool air and the heat of Sam’s hands make their way into his pants. Sam is in a rush tonight, needier and more focussed than other nights, wanting only this one thing, needing only to feel Gene inside of him. The angle is all wrong; Sam will have bruises and cuts from pushing his back against the wall and Gene might dent the Cortina with his vicious thrusts into Sam, but there in that alley with Sam wrapped around him he doesn’t look like he cares. Sam is whimpering, pleading, groaning...Gene, please...Guv, fuck...God, yes....And Gene is pumping, thrusting, taking...Sam, please...fuck...dirty boy...God, yes...And one is coming and then the other, pushing each other over the edge with harsh words and whispered names.
There is stillness then, as they come down from their crescendo, a tender moment so different in flavour from mere moments before. Gene’s head rests against Sam’s, thumbs coming up to wipe at the silent tears that fall after such intensity, lips whispering words not meant for anyone but the two of them. They stay like that for awhile, until the awkwardness of the position or maybe the click of the back door to the pub being locked finally drags them back out of each other and into the reality of the night. Gene lifts Sam up by the waist, high enough to allow his legs to fall back to the ground. Sam pulls the rest of his pants back on as Gene fetches the boot from its discarded position, right at my feet. I tip my hat to him with a wink and fall back into the shadows.