Fic: 5 Times Gene Was Sam's Slut, brown cortina, dakfinv
Title: Five Times Gene Was Sam's Slut
Author: dak
Word Count: 2282
Rating: brown cortina
Warnings: a little BDSM and angry!sex, but nothing red cortina worthy
Pairing: Sam/Gene
A/N: Instead of sleeping, I wrote of smut for
fawsley. I think there's something wrong with my brain.
1.
Gene kicked in the door before Sam even knew he was there.
“Rise and shine, Gladys,” he shouted cheerily, slamming the door shut.
“Guv, what’re...” Sam mumbled as he rolled over in bed. “What time is it?”
“It’s time for your birthday present, Sammy-boy.”
Sam wearily sat up in bed and grabbed his alarm clock from the headboard shelf.
“Gene, it’s barely five in the morning,” he yawned. Gene took the clock from his hand and tossed it across the room. “Yes, that will certainly make the time disappear,” Sam griped as he ran a hand through his disheveled hair.
“What’s wrong? Thought you’d be all shits and giggles today.”
“Because turning thirty-seven is such a momentous occasion,” Sam rolled his eyes and laid down.
“Hm. Guess you don’t want your present then,” Gene sighed. At this, Sam quirked an eyebrow and sat back up.
“Well, since you took the trouble to break down my door...”
Gene grinned and unbuttoned his coat. Sam stared at him, slackjawed, for several moments before rediscovering the power of speech.
“Er, Guv? Since it’s my birthday and all, aren’t I supposed to be the one...in the birthday suit?”
“If you don’t like it, you can always return it,” Gene started to close the coat.
“No no no!” Sam shouted, suddenly awake. “I’ll keep it. I’ll keep it.”
Gene grinned and shucked off the camel hair completely.
“So,” Sam continued, “since it is my birthday...”
“That it is.”
“And this is my present...”
“That it is.”
“That means, I can do whatever I want with it, yeah?”
“That you can,” Gene nodded.
Sam straightened up and grinned wickedly.
“I’d like it on its knees, then,” he decided. With a grin, Gene slowly dropped to the floor.
2.
Sam lay in bed, moaning and groaning as if it were the end of his life.
“I-I can’t take it anymore. Shit. Gene. Gene!”
“What is it?” Gene griped, stomping into the room.
“I need to get out of bed,” Sam told him.
“Docs said no.”
“But I’ve been stuck here for three days! And they only said not without supervision. Aren’t you my supervision?” he pleaded.
“I’ll be your super-squint if you don’t stop whinging,” Gene warned.
“C’mon, Guv. I nearly died. Don’t I get some sort of reward for that? Some sort of special treatment?” he asked, chewing on his lower lip in the way he knew always got Gene excited.
“Those pills make you randy?” Gene asked, examining the bottles on the nightstand.
“Side effects may include blurred vision, headaches, and raging hard-ons,” Sam sighed. “Seems about right.”
“And what am I supposed to do about that?” Gene asked, crossing his arms.
“I can think of a few things,” Sam began slowly rubbing his chest, pushing the sheets down in the process.
“Which one most suits your fancy, Mr. Tyler?”
“Well, you calling me Mr. Tyler for one,” Sam smirked as he lifted his nightshirt. “Your mouth right about here, for another,” he placed his hand on his cloth-covered crotch, and began fingering at the material beneath it.
“What would you like me to do with this mouth, Mr. Tyler?” Gene stepped closer.
“Well, Genie, it would be wonderful of you to kneel down right there...”
“Here?” Gene pointed to the empty bed space between Sam’s now-parted legs.
“Oh, yes. Right there would be excellent, young man,” he grinned. Gene carefully placed himself on the bed.
“Now what should I do, sir?” he asked.
“Well, it’s awfully hard for you to suck my cock with my trousers on, isn’t it?”
“I would have to agree, sir.”
“Why don’t you pull them down with those soft hands of yours, Gene.”
“Yes, sir,” Gene carefully pulled down both pajama bottoms and pants to reveal Sam’s bobbing erection. “My, Mr. Tyler. I don’t know if I’ll be handle all of that,” he licked his lips.
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll do your best, boy. You have an awfully lovely mouth,” Sam smiled.
“Thank you, sir.”
“Alright then. Enough chat. Down you go,” Sam reached forward and gently helped Gene’s head downward, hooking his fingers in his soft, blond hair as a warm wetness suddenly surrounded him. “That’s it, that’s it,” he encouraged, bobbing his hand along with Gene’s head, keeping just the right amount of pressure. “You’re doing so well, Gene. Mmmm....fuck...” Sam gasped, as Gene suddenly took him deeper. “Yes, yes...almost...shit...Gene...yes!” he screamed as he came in Gene’s mouth. After a few moments, Gene rose from the bed, wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve.
“Will that be all, Mr. Tyler?” he breathlessly asked.
“That will do quite fine, Gene. Thank you,” he sighed, utterly sated. “Christ, I should get shot more often,” Sam smiled.
“Don’t you fucking dare.”
3.
“You are bloody filthy,” Gene laughed.
“Well, if you would’ve listened to me and moved when I said, I wouldn’t’ve had to jump in front of you to block it,” Sam grumbled, picking a piece of god-knew-what out of his hair.
“I weren’t in any mortal danger from a bin bag, Marjorie. Didn’t need you to protect me.”
“I didn’t know what is was at the time, did I? Could’ve been a brick he was tossing at your head,” Sam moped.
“You would’ve leapt in front of a brick for me?” Gene asked.
“Course,” Sam mumbled.
“What d’you say?”
“I said of course!” Sam blushed and turned away. Gene smiled.
“That’s mighty noble of you DI Tyler. As your guv’nor, I feel it’s my duty to repay such loyalty.”
“And how do you plan on doing that?” Sam questioned, still annoyed.
“Well, you say I never listen to you...”
“Oh now you realize it.”
“What would you say, if I told you, that tonight, I’d listen to everything you had to say,” Gene proposed.
“And what? Moan the whole time that I’m whining like a girl?”
“Now you’re the one who’s not listening,” Gene sighed. He stepped closer. “Perhaps you’ll allow me to clarify. When I said everything,” he suddenly took hold of Sam’s crotch, caressing it gently. “I meant everything. And anything.”
“Anything?”
“Any and all.”
“Well,” Sam’s mouth went dry, “well, I could use a warm bath, and someone to run it for me.”
“Done,” Gene managed to press closer, placing his lips against Sam’s ear.
“And after that, someone to rub me down.”
“Done,” he whispered, his tongue just barely flicking against the soft flesh.
“And a massage would be brilliant.”
“Done,” Gene agreed, and this time his tongue found it’s way inside the sensitive ear. Sam shuddered.
“And after that, a nice, warm body, all laid out for me.”
“Done,” Gene nodded, and began sucking gently on Sam’s exposed neck.
“Gene?”
“Hm?” he mumbled, still nibbling away.
“Gene, if you don’t get me home now, I won’t have anything left to stick in that nice, warm body,” Sam warned. Gene immediately pulled back and grabbed Sam by the arm, pulling him towards the door.
“Done.”
4.
“This fucking case!”
Sam threw the file across the room. It was just past one in the morning, yet still, here he was - bashing his brain against unsolvable puzzle. Maybe it was solvable, but not when he had to do all the bloody work on his own. If only they still had that Meyers to talk to. But, no. No, the Guv had to see to it that “the little scrote” ended up with a broken jaw. Now, not only could their only possible link not speak, but he became so terrified of the police, he skipped town as soon as he was released from hospital.
Why must Gene always use his fists instead of that bloody brain Sam knew he had? Tyler swore the damn organ was going to wither and die of misuse if Gene didn’t exercise it every once in awhile. And, oh, where was their fearless leader now? Probably down at the pub participating in a useless lock-in, drinking copious amounts of alcohol while he attempted to lodge a dart somewhere other than DC Skelton’s arse.
“Bloody useless,” Sam sneered as he kicked at the tossed file.
“Giving up already?” sighed a voice from the doorway.
Sam turned to see the object of his rage leaning in its office doorway. Gene must have snuck in through the back, unnoticed till now.
“Where the fucking hell have you been?” Sam shouted, even though he knew the answer.
“Quite a mouth on you this evening, ain’t there?” Gene remarked calmly, taking a sip from his flask. Sam stormed forward and smacked the container right from his hands.
“It isn’t ‘evening,’ you useless tosser,” he snapped, “It is the middle of the fucking night!”
“Not my fault you can switch off, Doro--”
In some part of Sam’s brain, a switch did flick. Unfortunately for the Guv, it was the switch that kept Tyler’s anger in check. Sam punched Gene in the stomach twice in quick succession, emptying the man of nearly all air. Sam landed another one to his jaw, then grabbed Gene by his tie and dragged him out of CID.
He said nothing until he had locked them both in Lost and Found. Forcing Gene to the center of the room, Sam shoved the table out of the way, and pushed Gene to his knees.
“I dare you to say it. Go on, Guv, say it. Call me Dorothy. Call me Gladys. Call me Mabel. I dare you. Go on. Say it. Say it!” he screamed.
Gene remained silent.
“So, I can’t switch off, hm? Poor DI Tyler can never get away from the station. Poor DI Tyler’s always thinking about a case. Poor DI Tyler never gets a break or a holiday or sleep,” he paced around the Guv, examining him like the useless lump of flesh he was. “And why is that, Guv? Why do I never get to ‘switch off?’ Why?”
Gene remained silent.
“Because I’m the only one that fucking cares!” he screamed, his voice nearly breaking. “I am the only one who ever gives a shit about any of the cases that come through here. I am the only one who ever uses his brain instead of his fists to lock the scum away!”
“Sam...”
Sam struck him across the face.
“Did I say you could speak?” he snarled. Sam circled Gene once more, before coming to a stop in front of him. “Stand up,” he ordered. “I said stand up!”
Gene did so.
“Trousers!”
Gene didn’t make him say it twice.
“Pants. Pants down. Do it!”
Gene did so without hesitation, despite Sam’s repeated command. Sam paced nervously, uncertain what to do next. Finally reaching a decision, he rushed forward and grabbed Gene’s cock in his hand, pressing his fingers tight. Gene remained silent.
“We can be such a good time, you and I,” Sam spoke quietly as he began stroking Gene, making him hard. “Starsky and bloody Hutch, sometimes. But others...others...” Sam shook his head and pumped harder. “You revert to that ignorant, Neanderthal persona that they might love so much, but I - I fucking hate. You know why? You know why, Guv?”
Gene was panting now, stifling back his groans, as Sam continued to squeeze and pull just a little harder than Gene typically liked.
“Because when you resort to that fucking caricature of a man, you are useless. You are useless to me, you are useless to this station, and you are useless to every helpless victim that comes through our door.”
Gene was close now. He could feel it. Sam had done this too many times not to know when Gene was about to orgasm. He pulled his hand away. Gene hissed at the loss, but did nothing to correct it.
“No. No you don’t get to come tonight, Guv. Why? Because I want you to know what it feels like. I want you to know what it’s like for me, to be so full of rage and fear and pain. And, I want you to know what it feels like to have no release from those horrible, impotent emotions you never seem to have.”
Sam stepped back, unable to look at him.
“Put your trousers on,” he ordered, but with nowhere near the amount of force he had before. “Take me home, Gene. I’m too tired to deal with this right now,” his voice was nearly gone before he finished the sentence. Gene did as he was told.
5.
It had to the kitchen. He didn’t know why, but that’s where he wanted it to be. Other than the station, the kitchen was where he felt the most comfortable in the world. He knew where everything was. He knew how to use all the appliances. He knew how to manipulate the ingredients, and bring everything together in a perfect, glorious concoction that would wow the senses and excite every cell of the body.
Now, in his kitchen, Sam laid out all the tools he would need: the oil, the pad of butter, the candles, the butt plug, and the vibrator. He arranged it all neatly on the table, in perfect straight lines. All, that was, except the meat. That? That remained on the floor, already clean and prepared, and waiting for the inevitable. Sam ran his hands over the chuck, across the ribs, over the round, and down the shanks - making sure he was plenty tender. Before he began, he leaned over and gently whispered in his ear.
“That’ll be the last time you place a bet with me,” Sam grinned and grabbed the oil from his work table. Gene would have answered but for the gag in his mouth.