Extrapolation by fawsley, brown Cortina with Sam and Gene
Title:Extrapolation
Author: fawsley
Rating: mucky brown Cortina
Characters: Sam/Gene
Word Count: 535
Disclaimer: All the property of BBC and Kudos
Warnings: Another dialogue fic so steer clear if you're allergic to them.
Notes: For norfolkdumpling because I promised her smut.
Summary: Sam has a great idea for improving efficiency or some such bollocks. Gene has other things on his mind.
Extrapolation
'...then if we enter all the data we’ve garnered onto the spreadsheet - by which I mean the chart... Christ! What I wouldn’t give for Excel right now! But anyhow, Chris is pretty hot with figures once he’s got his confidence up and a couple of Bourbons inside him, so as I say, when we’ve entered all the information onto the... Gene? Guv? Shit... You haven’t heard a word I’ve said, have you?’
‘Not any more than I have to. Got me mind on more important things, Tyler.’
‘More important things? Like what? Making a mental assessment of ale and pie consumption and its mysterious relationship to your ever-expanding girth?’
‘No need to get personal! Was thinkin' about you as a matter of fact.’
‘Me?’
‘Yeah, you.’
‘I’m 99% certain that I really don’t want to know and 100% sure you’re going to tell me anyway.’
‘Got to the point where I’m just wonderin’, you know…’
‘Okay, go on. Get it over and done with.’
‘Just wonderin' whether you’d be as much of a fantastic little fuck in reality as you are in me dreams.’
‘What?’
‘Would you beg, Tyler? I mean really beg? Down on your knees, them big eyes gazing up at me, pleading for a taste of Gene Genie goodness? It’s a bloody fine thought that you might. One that lulls me to sleep at night with a smile on me face an' me hand all sticky.’
‘It’s a seriously kinky one! Specially when it's coming from your superior officer.’
‘Which indeed it would be. Me coming, that is. All over you. Course it’s a sure-fire thing that your mouth’d be stretched wide as it'd go. Painful, that. Dunno if you’d be able to take it all. Like to think you’d be keen to give it a damned good try though. Like to imagine the look on your face when me helmet hits the back of your throat.’
‘Fucking hell, Guv!’
‘Fuckin' heaven you mean! Especially if your arse is as tight as it looks in them painted-on jeans, unless appearances are deceiving me which I jolly well hope they're not. Does it need a lovely lot of licking an' a healthy dose of fancy fingerwork to be nice an’ ready for me?’
‘Shit! I can’t believe I’m hearing this!’
'Can't, Tyler? Or won't? Rather go back to the thrills an' spills of your wallchart wotsit?'
'Not necessarily...'
'What then?'
'Well, I was just wondering myself, like...'
'Wonderin' what?'
'Oh, you know... Whether your cock really is as big and thick and as punishing in real life as I’ve always imagined it to be...'
'Not the sort of information Chris will ever be gettin' his hands on, however many biscuits he scoffs!'
'...all throbbing veins, red hot and glistening, oozing precum...'
'Don't have to plot a graph to discover the answer to that one, Sammy-boy!'
'...you telling me to take it hard like the depraved filthy whoring slut of a picky pain-in-the-arse DI that I am...'
'Which sort of takes me back to the question I was ponderin' in the first place.'
'And that was what, exactly?'
'Whether once I've got me great huge purple cock rammed right down your sweet little throat, you might for once just shut up?'
Author: fawsley
Rating: mucky brown Cortina
Characters: Sam/Gene
Word Count: 535
Disclaimer: All the property of BBC and Kudos
Warnings: Another dialogue fic so steer clear if you're allergic to them.
Notes: For norfolkdumpling because I promised her smut.
Summary: Sam has a great idea for improving efficiency or some such bollocks. Gene has other things on his mind.
Extrapolation
'...then if we enter all the data we’ve garnered onto the spreadsheet - by which I mean the chart... Christ! What I wouldn’t give for Excel right now! But anyhow, Chris is pretty hot with figures once he’s got his confidence up and a couple of Bourbons inside him, so as I say, when we’ve entered all the information onto the... Gene? Guv? Shit... You haven’t heard a word I’ve said, have you?’
‘Not any more than I have to. Got me mind on more important things, Tyler.’
‘More important things? Like what? Making a mental assessment of ale and pie consumption and its mysterious relationship to your ever-expanding girth?’
‘No need to get personal! Was thinkin' about you as a matter of fact.’
‘Me?’
‘Yeah, you.’
‘I’m 99% certain that I really don’t want to know and 100% sure you’re going to tell me anyway.’
‘Got to the point where I’m just wonderin’, you know…’
‘Okay, go on. Get it over and done with.’
‘Just wonderin' whether you’d be as much of a fantastic little fuck in reality as you are in me dreams.’
‘What?’
‘Would you beg, Tyler? I mean really beg? Down on your knees, them big eyes gazing up at me, pleading for a taste of Gene Genie goodness? It’s a bloody fine thought that you might. One that lulls me to sleep at night with a smile on me face an' me hand all sticky.’
‘It’s a seriously kinky one! Specially when it's coming from your superior officer.’
‘Which indeed it would be. Me coming, that is. All over you. Course it’s a sure-fire thing that your mouth’d be stretched wide as it'd go. Painful, that. Dunno if you’d be able to take it all. Like to think you’d be keen to give it a damned good try though. Like to imagine the look on your face when me helmet hits the back of your throat.’
‘Fucking hell, Guv!’
‘Fuckin' heaven you mean! Especially if your arse is as tight as it looks in them painted-on jeans, unless appearances are deceiving me which I jolly well hope they're not. Does it need a lovely lot of licking an' a healthy dose of fancy fingerwork to be nice an’ ready for me?’
‘Shit! I can’t believe I’m hearing this!’
'Can't, Tyler? Or won't? Rather go back to the thrills an' spills of your wallchart wotsit?'
'Not necessarily...'
'What then?'
'Well, I was just wondering myself, like...'
'Wonderin' what?'
'Oh, you know... Whether your cock really is as big and thick and as punishing in real life as I’ve always imagined it to be...'
'Not the sort of information Chris will ever be gettin' his hands on, however many biscuits he scoffs!'
'...all throbbing veins, red hot and glistening, oozing precum...'
'Don't have to plot a graph to discover the answer to that one, Sammy-boy!'
'...you telling me to take it hard like the depraved filthy whoring slut of a picky pain-in-the-arse DI that I am...'
'Which sort of takes me back to the question I was ponderin' in the first place.'
'And that was what, exactly?'
'Whether once I've got me great huge purple cock rammed right down your sweet little throat, you might for once just shut up?'