Porntoberfest : Rest and recuperation by fawsley, brown Cortina with Sam and Gene
Title: Rest and recuperation
Author: fawsley
Rating: brown Cortina
Characters: Sam/Gene
Word Count: 2340
Disclaimer: All the property of the BBC and Kudos
Summary: Sam has needs, but he doesn't want to talk about them.
Notes: Not happy about the title - it's been called 'Cock' all the time I've been working on it - and it sort of peters out at the end, but hey - it's Porntober!
Rest and recuperation
Sam had given up long ago on the hope of anything actually happening during this particular stake-out. They’d been sat in the Cortina for hours, long enough for him to get slightly horny in the way that sunshine beating down on the roof plus vaguely bored drowsiness always made him. Nick and Geoff would be there to take over from them soon enough, and then he could go home, strip off, and wank away happily to himself.
Well, not exactly happily. What he could really do with was some seriously hot action, but the likelihood of that seemed pretty remote. Especially considering who it was he wanted to be doing the hot action with.
He shifted slightly in his seat, felt the sweat seeping into his jeans from sitting on a vinyl seat for far too long, and stared out of the windscreen into the distance, trying to find something to take his mind off where it seemed so very determined to go.
Some bloke was striding down the pavement towards them, some bloke whom Sam’s brain immediately christened Fucking-Unbelievably-Tight-Trousers Man, with the additional middle name of Which-Leave-Absolutely-Nothing-Whatsoever-To-The-Imagination. He didn’t realise he’d made the sharp intake of breath and exhaled sigh of appreciation until -
‘You not getting enough cock or what, Tyler?’
Sam closed his eyes and swore under his breath before making the politest reply he could at that moment manage.
‘None of your damned business.’
‘Is when it interferes with your work.’
‘Isn’t. I mean, it doesn’t. Isn’t. Oh fuck it! My sex life, or lack of, I mean, my sex life, whatever it is, is absolutely nothing to do with you, so just leave it out. Okay?’
Gene raised his eyebrows, pouted, and huffed as only he could do.
‘My point proved, I believe.’
Sam threw his head back against the seat, growled and wanted to kill his superior officer.
‘Just shut the fuck up, will you?’
He turned to stare out of the side window instead, only to find that
Fucking-Unbelievably-Tight-Trousers Man was stood right there, just inches away, in all his glory, sorting himself out a cigarette.
‘Jesus fucking Christ!’
‘Nope. Don’t think so. Don’t think Jesus smokes, Tyler.’
Sam clenched his fists, desperate to lash out.
‘Don’t fuckin’ think I can take much more of you!’
‘Don’t grit your teeth so hard, Sammy-boy! Here come Geoff and Nick and I’m sure that one if not both of ’em would be more than happy to floss your molars for you. Good things always come in twos, after all. Dunno if either of ’em’s actually any good, but there’s two of ’em and I’m sure that it wouldn’t take you long to…’
Gene was out of his seat and on the other side of the car door by the time Tyler’s punch came anywhere near where he’d been sitting. Why Sam didn’t leave then and there, set off down the road and simply walk home now that his shift was finished, he couldn’t rightly say. He was angry enough to do so, fed up to the back teeth with the Guv, though that thought only brought back Gene’s crack about Nick and Geoff and molars, thus setting off yet another session of fuming frustration.
When he finally did decide to get out and go, Gene was back in the driving seat and revving up the Cortina. Slumping back in the passenger seat with arms crossed and in a sulk that would do any six-year-old proud, Sam felt as if he was always one big step behind.
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‘What are we doing here? Thought you were going to give me a lift home at least.’
‘We are home.’
‘Yeah, but it’s your home and I want to go home to my home.’
‘Tyler, it’s already common knowledge that you’re a great big soppy girl so you can cut out the regular updates. I’ll take you home later. For the moment you’re coming in here with me and having a bit of an unwind at the end of a hard working day.’
‘Only you, Guv, could think of that as a hard working day - we’ve done nothing but sit in the car for six hours, staring at bugger all!’
‘And I reckon you’d’ve liked to bugger all the blokes what shimmied their tight arses past us during that time, specially that last one!’
‘Don’t you bloody dare think you can get away with speaking to me like that!’
‘And don’t you dare deny it! Now shut up being all Miss Prissy and get yourself inside! I’m offering you decent single malt whisky for a change instead of that cat’s piddle you insist on wasting your wages on. Make the most of it. Might not get another invitation if you keep on behaving like this.’
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Sam told himself it was the prospect of the sort of whisky he couldn’t himself afford that made him follow Gene in through the front door, though he did as much lagging behind as possible to ensure his point was made, whatever that might be. Gene gestured for his guest to sit down whilst he fixed their drinks, and Sam found himself happy enough to be bathed in the warm late afternoon sunshine that poured into the living room. The armchair was more than comfortable, the whisky pure liquid peat smoke, and before he knew it Sam’s eyelids were drooping.
‘That’s it, Tyler. You have a little snooze. I’m just going upstairs to have a bit of a wash and a change. You relax there for a while. Help yourself to a top up. But not too much, mind you. No gulping it down. Not yet, at any rate…’
Sam was tired, even if it hadn’t exactly been an action-packed day of thrills and spills. Doing nothing always made him feel lazy, and the sunshine was a sure-fire way of knocking him out, so combined with Gene’s excellent whisky it wasn’t long before he was snoring gently, crashed out in the big armchair.
He never heard the pipes clanking softly to themselves as Gene took a long, hot bath. Was oblivious to the creaking floorboards above him as Gene pottered about in his bedroom. The tread of footsteps coming back down was lost on him, as was what might have been interpreted as a tentative pause between their reaching the foot of the stairs and arriving in the living room.
Sam was in the middle of a very strange dream involving a dentist wearing a camel coat who made him lie back in a chair which seemed to sink down forever before asking him to gargle with an especially fine malt and then…
‘Sam?’
Gene’s voice was soft, but not as soft as the hand on Sam’s shoulder gently shaking him awake.
‘Sam? Sammy? You in there?’
But when he opened his eyes it must still be a dream, because the Guv never wore black jeans like those, almost as tight as Sam’s own, tight black jeans that showed off everything. Nor did the Guv have a habit of looming over Sam with one knee on an arm of the chair, stroking tenderly at his face and staring with those glorious great green eyes that were now dark with, well, if Sam had to put a name to it, it would be lust with a capital L.
‘Guv? Gene? What? What’s going on?’
‘We are, I reckon, Sammy-boy.’
Sam struggled to sit upright but was somewhat constrained by the body above him.
‘Gene, don’t let me get this wrong whatever I do, but, well…’
‘But I’m coming on to you, Sammy. And I know I’m not wrong in thinking that it’s just what you need.’
‘Coming on…? Shit, Gene! I mean, what the hell…’
‘Come off it Tyler! You admitted you’re sadly in need of some decent cock right now, and if I’ve got anything down my pants it’s some bloody decent cock. And it’s yours for the taking.’
Gene ran a slow hand over his crotch, pushing his hips forward. In the cold light of day, if Sam had seen how his eyes had widened and his jaw dropped he might have hung his head in shame, but right now he leaned hungrily forwards, pink tongue making an impromptu appearance between teeth that would make any dentist proud.
‘Come on, Sammy. You know you want it.’
A second knee joined the first on the other arm of the chair and Sam was effectively trapped.
‘Gene, I… I’m…’
‘You are a pain in the proverbial Tyler, and if you don’t get on and do what you have to do which is what we both want you to do then I’m gonna have to do it and… Oh! For crying out loud! Just get on and release the beast, Sam!’
There wasn’t much point in arguing any more, even Sam had to concede that point. He grinned and extracted his arms from wherever it was they’d got to, running them up Gene’s tensed thighs.
‘Shit, Guv… I dunno… I mean, you’re my superior officer and…’
‘When we’re down the station and when we’re on duty, yes, I am. But right now neither of those is the case. So just get on with it before I have to…’
Gene was silenced by the most lascivious upward glance he had ever received. Sam leaned in closer and nuzzled at the bulging demin, gracing it with long, slow licks of that very pink tongue, before popping one, two, three, all the buttons of Gene’s fly. He grinned and nodded in surprised appreciation that the Guv was going commando tonight, but all smugness was wiped off his face when he peeled back what he could of the straining jeans to reveal -
‘Bloody hell, Gene!’
‘Told you it was a decent bit of cock.’
Fucking-Unbelievably-Tight-Trousers Man was immediately subject to total and utter relegation, straight past fourth division and out into non-league wasteland.
Gene took himself in hand, slowly dragging the head of his cock around Sam’s mouth like some sort of obscene lipstick.
‘You going to suck it like the good boy that you are, Sammy?’
Sam pursed his lips.
‘Do you want a good boy, Guv, or a totally depraved filthy dirty boy?’
Gene knelt back for a moment, frowning over the difficult choice.
‘Think I’ll go with the latter for now’ he grinned, and leant forwards once more.
Which Sam took as his cue to begin licking.
He didn’t just lick. He sniffed, inhaling Gene’s scent and moaning gently over it. He nuzzled, rubbing his entire face over and around Gene’s crotch, burying himself in the goodness he found there. Sam’s mouth was wickedly skilful, leaving wet trails and soft kisses, tiny nips and sinful scrapes of his teeth, and by the time he finally hollowed his cheeks and swallowed what he had to swallow, Gene was hard and throbbing and ready to rut.
Sam found himself forced back in the chair as Gene grabbed hold of his head and fucked his throat hard, grunting out a highly obscene, vividly detailed description as to quite what, where and how he envisaged any future encounter between his dick and his deputy to take place.
Arching his long neck to tip his head back as far as he could, Sam took it all and relished it. He loved cock, hard cock deep down his throat, and this was cock of the very highest calibre. No wonder Gene seemed to live in those godawful grey trousers - last thing he needed to do was draw attention to the monster hiding down there. Sam opened his throat wide and hummed, revelling in every gag-threatening thrust.
‘Take it! Take it!’ Gene growled and Sam swallowed hard, feeling the tell-tale spasms of impending orgasm, but Gene pulled out and away, coming instead over Sam’s face and neck, even over his jacket.
Sam gasped and coughed, taking a moment to catch his breath, especially when Gene collapsed onto him.
‘Didn’t have to do that… Would’ve swallowed, you know…’
Gene pushed himself upright with one hand, the other clinging on to Sam’s shoulder for support.
‘Course you would, know that, little cock-whore. Wanted to come on your jacket.’
He leaned back to admire his achievement. Long white trails smeared over black leather, dribbling down the seams and creases.
‘Been wanting to do that for bloody ages.’
‘It’d better come off at the cleaners.’
‘Nah - damp cloth’ll see you right as rain. Talking of which…’
Gene heaved himself backwards and up to a somewhat wobbly standing position.
‘Better go get myself cleaned up. And you need a wash yourself, Tyler. Right mess you look. Got it all over you.’
Sam scowled but without a trace of malice.
‘And where do I go to do that?’
‘Upstairs. Bathroom. Where’d you think?’
‘Anything else happen upstairs?’
‘Might. If you’re lucky. And I’ve had a rest. And another drink.’
‘Bring the bottle then, should I?’
‘You do that, Sammy my lad!’
Gene fastened up enough buttons to keep his jeans from falling around his ankles during the long trek and followed his still somewhat shaky DI upstairs. As Sam turned into the bathroom he felt a groping arm come snaking around to the front of his body.
‘Ha! Excellent!’
‘What?’
‘Well, one good cock deserves another, and as I expected I’m not the only one round here with a rocket in his pocket!’
He batted the inquisitive hand away.
‘So - I take it you’ve not been getting enough cock either, Guv. Is that it?’
‘Never said I was, Tyler, never said I wasn’t. Don’t go in for denial. Unlike some people I could name.’
He disappeared off towards the bedroom, bottle and glasses safely retrieved from Sam’s grasp.
Sam closed the door behind him and grinned. He made a private whooping noise, punched the air, and did an odd little dance as he waited for the water to run hot. Who gave a toss how hard or not he had to work if this was the Guv’s idea of unwinding afterwards?
Now. Would Gene object to him borrowing his toothbrush?
Author: fawsley
Rating: brown Cortina
Characters: Sam/Gene
Word Count: 2340
Disclaimer: All the property of the BBC and Kudos
Summary: Sam has needs, but he doesn't want to talk about them.
Notes: Not happy about the title - it's been called 'Cock' all the time I've been working on it - and it sort of peters out at the end, but hey - it's Porntober!
Rest and recuperation
Sam had given up long ago on the hope of anything actually happening during this particular stake-out. They’d been sat in the Cortina for hours, long enough for him to get slightly horny in the way that sunshine beating down on the roof plus vaguely bored drowsiness always made him. Nick and Geoff would be there to take over from them soon enough, and then he could go home, strip off, and wank away happily to himself.
Well, not exactly happily. What he could really do with was some seriously hot action, but the likelihood of that seemed pretty remote. Especially considering who it was he wanted to be doing the hot action with.
He shifted slightly in his seat, felt the sweat seeping into his jeans from sitting on a vinyl seat for far too long, and stared out of the windscreen into the distance, trying to find something to take his mind off where it seemed so very determined to go.
Some bloke was striding down the pavement towards them, some bloke whom Sam’s brain immediately christened Fucking-Unbelievably-Tight-Trousers Man, with the additional middle name of Which-Leave-Absolutely-Nothing-Whatsoever-To-The-Imagination. He didn’t realise he’d made the sharp intake of breath and exhaled sigh of appreciation until -
‘You not getting enough cock or what, Tyler?’
Sam closed his eyes and swore under his breath before making the politest reply he could at that moment manage.
‘None of your damned business.’
‘Is when it interferes with your work.’
‘Isn’t. I mean, it doesn’t. Isn’t. Oh fuck it! My sex life, or lack of, I mean, my sex life, whatever it is, is absolutely nothing to do with you, so just leave it out. Okay?’
Gene raised his eyebrows, pouted, and huffed as only he could do.
‘My point proved, I believe.’
Sam threw his head back against the seat, growled and wanted to kill his superior officer.
‘Just shut the fuck up, will you?’
He turned to stare out of the side window instead, only to find that
Fucking-Unbelievably-Tight-Trousers Man was stood right there, just inches away, in all his glory, sorting himself out a cigarette.
‘Jesus fucking Christ!’
‘Nope. Don’t think so. Don’t think Jesus smokes, Tyler.’
Sam clenched his fists, desperate to lash out.
‘Don’t fuckin’ think I can take much more of you!’
‘Don’t grit your teeth so hard, Sammy-boy! Here come Geoff and Nick and I’m sure that one if not both of ’em would be more than happy to floss your molars for you. Good things always come in twos, after all. Dunno if either of ’em’s actually any good, but there’s two of ’em and I’m sure that it wouldn’t take you long to…’
Gene was out of his seat and on the other side of the car door by the time Tyler’s punch came anywhere near where he’d been sitting. Why Sam didn’t leave then and there, set off down the road and simply walk home now that his shift was finished, he couldn’t rightly say. He was angry enough to do so, fed up to the back teeth with the Guv, though that thought only brought back Gene’s crack about Nick and Geoff and molars, thus setting off yet another session of fuming frustration.
When he finally did decide to get out and go, Gene was back in the driving seat and revving up the Cortina. Slumping back in the passenger seat with arms crossed and in a sulk that would do any six-year-old proud, Sam felt as if he was always one big step behind.
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‘What are we doing here? Thought you were going to give me a lift home at least.’
‘We are home.’
‘Yeah, but it’s your home and I want to go home to my home.’
‘Tyler, it’s already common knowledge that you’re a great big soppy girl so you can cut out the regular updates. I’ll take you home later. For the moment you’re coming in here with me and having a bit of an unwind at the end of a hard working day.’
‘Only you, Guv, could think of that as a hard working day - we’ve done nothing but sit in the car for six hours, staring at bugger all!’
‘And I reckon you’d’ve liked to bugger all the blokes what shimmied their tight arses past us during that time, specially that last one!’
‘Don’t you bloody dare think you can get away with speaking to me like that!’
‘And don’t you dare deny it! Now shut up being all Miss Prissy and get yourself inside! I’m offering you decent single malt whisky for a change instead of that cat’s piddle you insist on wasting your wages on. Make the most of it. Might not get another invitation if you keep on behaving like this.’
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¸.•´¸.•*´¨) ¸.•*¨)
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Sam told himself it was the prospect of the sort of whisky he couldn’t himself afford that made him follow Gene in through the front door, though he did as much lagging behind as possible to ensure his point was made, whatever that might be. Gene gestured for his guest to sit down whilst he fixed their drinks, and Sam found himself happy enough to be bathed in the warm late afternoon sunshine that poured into the living room. The armchair was more than comfortable, the whisky pure liquid peat smoke, and before he knew it Sam’s eyelids were drooping.
‘That’s it, Tyler. You have a little snooze. I’m just going upstairs to have a bit of a wash and a change. You relax there for a while. Help yourself to a top up. But not too much, mind you. No gulping it down. Not yet, at any rate…’
Sam was tired, even if it hadn’t exactly been an action-packed day of thrills and spills. Doing nothing always made him feel lazy, and the sunshine was a sure-fire way of knocking him out, so combined with Gene’s excellent whisky it wasn’t long before he was snoring gently, crashed out in the big armchair.
He never heard the pipes clanking softly to themselves as Gene took a long, hot bath. Was oblivious to the creaking floorboards above him as Gene pottered about in his bedroom. The tread of footsteps coming back down was lost on him, as was what might have been interpreted as a tentative pause between their reaching the foot of the stairs and arriving in the living room.
Sam was in the middle of a very strange dream involving a dentist wearing a camel coat who made him lie back in a chair which seemed to sink down forever before asking him to gargle with an especially fine malt and then…
‘Sam?’
Gene’s voice was soft, but not as soft as the hand on Sam’s shoulder gently shaking him awake.
‘Sam? Sammy? You in there?’
But when he opened his eyes it must still be a dream, because the Guv never wore black jeans like those, almost as tight as Sam’s own, tight black jeans that showed off everything. Nor did the Guv have a habit of looming over Sam with one knee on an arm of the chair, stroking tenderly at his face and staring with those glorious great green eyes that were now dark with, well, if Sam had to put a name to it, it would be lust with a capital L.
‘Guv? Gene? What? What’s going on?’
‘We are, I reckon, Sammy-boy.’
Sam struggled to sit upright but was somewhat constrained by the body above him.
‘Gene, don’t let me get this wrong whatever I do, but, well…’
‘But I’m coming on to you, Sammy. And I know I’m not wrong in thinking that it’s just what you need.’
‘Coming on…? Shit, Gene! I mean, what the hell…’
‘Come off it Tyler! You admitted you’re sadly in need of some decent cock right now, and if I’ve got anything down my pants it’s some bloody decent cock. And it’s yours for the taking.’
Gene ran a slow hand over his crotch, pushing his hips forward. In the cold light of day, if Sam had seen how his eyes had widened and his jaw dropped he might have hung his head in shame, but right now he leaned hungrily forwards, pink tongue making an impromptu appearance between teeth that would make any dentist proud.
‘Come on, Sammy. You know you want it.’
A second knee joined the first on the other arm of the chair and Sam was effectively trapped.
‘Gene, I… I’m…’
‘You are a pain in the proverbial Tyler, and if you don’t get on and do what you have to do which is what we both want you to do then I’m gonna have to do it and… Oh! For crying out loud! Just get on and release the beast, Sam!’
There wasn’t much point in arguing any more, even Sam had to concede that point. He grinned and extracted his arms from wherever it was they’d got to, running them up Gene’s tensed thighs.
‘Shit, Guv… I dunno… I mean, you’re my superior officer and…’
‘When we’re down the station and when we’re on duty, yes, I am. But right now neither of those is the case. So just get on with it before I have to…’
Gene was silenced by the most lascivious upward glance he had ever received. Sam leaned in closer and nuzzled at the bulging demin, gracing it with long, slow licks of that very pink tongue, before popping one, two, three, all the buttons of Gene’s fly. He grinned and nodded in surprised appreciation that the Guv was going commando tonight, but all smugness was wiped off his face when he peeled back what he could of the straining jeans to reveal -
‘Bloody hell, Gene!’
‘Told you it was a decent bit of cock.’
Fucking-Unbelievably-Tight-Trousers Man was immediately subject to total and utter relegation, straight past fourth division and out into non-league wasteland.
Gene took himself in hand, slowly dragging the head of his cock around Sam’s mouth like some sort of obscene lipstick.
‘You going to suck it like the good boy that you are, Sammy?’
Sam pursed his lips.
‘Do you want a good boy, Guv, or a totally depraved filthy dirty boy?’
Gene knelt back for a moment, frowning over the difficult choice.
‘Think I’ll go with the latter for now’ he grinned, and leant forwards once more.
Which Sam took as his cue to begin licking.
He didn’t just lick. He sniffed, inhaling Gene’s scent and moaning gently over it. He nuzzled, rubbing his entire face over and around Gene’s crotch, burying himself in the goodness he found there. Sam’s mouth was wickedly skilful, leaving wet trails and soft kisses, tiny nips and sinful scrapes of his teeth, and by the time he finally hollowed his cheeks and swallowed what he had to swallow, Gene was hard and throbbing and ready to rut.
Sam found himself forced back in the chair as Gene grabbed hold of his head and fucked his throat hard, grunting out a highly obscene, vividly detailed description as to quite what, where and how he envisaged any future encounter between his dick and his deputy to take place.
Arching his long neck to tip his head back as far as he could, Sam took it all and relished it. He loved cock, hard cock deep down his throat, and this was cock of the very highest calibre. No wonder Gene seemed to live in those godawful grey trousers - last thing he needed to do was draw attention to the monster hiding down there. Sam opened his throat wide and hummed, revelling in every gag-threatening thrust.
‘Take it! Take it!’ Gene growled and Sam swallowed hard, feeling the tell-tale spasms of impending orgasm, but Gene pulled out and away, coming instead over Sam’s face and neck, even over his jacket.
Sam gasped and coughed, taking a moment to catch his breath, especially when Gene collapsed onto him.
‘Didn’t have to do that… Would’ve swallowed, you know…’
Gene pushed himself upright with one hand, the other clinging on to Sam’s shoulder for support.
‘Course you would, know that, little cock-whore. Wanted to come on your jacket.’
He leaned back to admire his achievement. Long white trails smeared over black leather, dribbling down the seams and creases.
‘Been wanting to do that for bloody ages.’
‘It’d better come off at the cleaners.’
‘Nah - damp cloth’ll see you right as rain. Talking of which…’
Gene heaved himself backwards and up to a somewhat wobbly standing position.
‘Better go get myself cleaned up. And you need a wash yourself, Tyler. Right mess you look. Got it all over you.’
Sam scowled but without a trace of malice.
‘And where do I go to do that?’
‘Upstairs. Bathroom. Where’d you think?’
‘Anything else happen upstairs?’
‘Might. If you’re lucky. And I’ve had a rest. And another drink.’
‘Bring the bottle then, should I?’
‘You do that, Sammy my lad!’
Gene fastened up enough buttons to keep his jeans from falling around his ankles during the long trek and followed his still somewhat shaky DI upstairs. As Sam turned into the bathroom he felt a groping arm come snaking around to the front of his body.
‘Ha! Excellent!’
‘What?’
‘Well, one good cock deserves another, and as I expected I’m not the only one round here with a rocket in his pocket!’
He batted the inquisitive hand away.
‘So - I take it you’ve not been getting enough cock either, Guv. Is that it?’
‘Never said I was, Tyler, never said I wasn’t. Don’t go in for denial. Unlike some people I could name.’
He disappeared off towards the bedroom, bottle and glasses safely retrieved from Sam’s grasp.
Sam closed the door behind him and grinned. He made a private whooping noise, punched the air, and did an odd little dance as he waited for the water to run hot. Who gave a toss how hard or not he had to work if this was the Guv’s idea of unwinding afterwards?
Now. Would Gene object to him borrowing his toothbrush?