Author:
constance-bRating: Blue Cortina
Word Count: 1000+
Pairings: Gene/Sam
Summary: Porntober. Because there's just not enough intercrural sex on this comm.
Warnings: Horribly clichéd sentences. This is why I avoid the pwps - I'm not very good at them. Anyone commenting that there's still not enough porn will be beaten with a shovel - this is the best I can manage.
"But it's my birthday."
"Stood you a pint, didn't I? I'm here, naked, ready and willing to pound you into the mattress - what more do you want?"
"I want you on your hands and knees."
"And I've told you before, Tyler, you can whine on about equality all you like, but you're the buggeree in this affair."
"That's not... I want to show you something new. Not that. C'mon Gene, live on the wild side."
"'M doing it with a bloke. On a bed likely to catapult me through the wall if I lean on the wrong spring. Any wilder and you'll have David bloody Attenborough in here.*"
Sam narrowed his eyes, preparation for saying something goading, but Gene was moving onto his hands and knees even as he said he wouldn't, swaying slightly as the springs resettled. He shifted slightly, finding a less creaky spot, and twisted his head round to look at Sam.
"You moving here or what?"
"Just admiring the view."
"And that's why you don't get to be in charge, Dorothy. Be here all night."
Sam dragged his eyes away from Gene's muscular thighs long enough to shuck off the rest of his clothes and reach for the tube of lubricant on the window sill. He squeezed a generous amount onto his fingers and smoothed it over his cock as Gene watched suspiciously.
"Oi! You said-"
"Shut up. Please," Sam added, horny enough to be diplomatic. "We're doing this my way, and I like lube. I like the feel of it, all smooth and cold and tingly."
He gave a demonstration, eyes fluttering closed as he slowly wanked himself. Gene swallowed.
"I'm not getting any younger over here."
"But you are getting harder," Sam observed. From his rear view Gene's dick was hard enough to have lifted out of sight against his stomach, balls tightening. He tensed as Sam took a step towards him, thighs and buttocks flexing. It was Sam's turn to swallow. He squeezed another glob from the tube and knelt on the end of the bed. Gene flinched as Sam's cream coated hand cupped his sac.
"Jesus! Do you keep that stuff in the fridge?"
Sam shrugged, gave his drafty window a rueful glare. "It's not my fault no-one's invented decent PVC triple-glazing yet."
"Well warm it up."
"Okay."
Sam moved his fingers, working the cream into every crease of Gene's scrotum. Feeling the skin tighten under his fingers as the cold spread and faded. He added another dollop, this time first warming it between his fingers first.
"What's this, anyway?"
"Don't you like it?"
Gene made an uncommitted kind of noise. Sam's hand insinuated itself between Gene's legs and wrapped around the base of his shaft, leaving a trail of lubricant.
"'M not objecting. But I know you, Tyler, never hurts to know what you're up to before you jump straight in. So I can get out of the way if necessary."
Sam chuckled. "You don't like not being in charge, do you?"
"I feel frigging ridiculous."
"Well you look hot," Sam purred. His slick-free hand played over Gene's back, tracing muscles and sparse hair, the other massaged his shaft. "Intercrural sex," he explained. "That's what we're doing here. Because I really want to fuck you, and you won't let me the other way. Any complaints?"
The subtle tightening of Sam's hand insured there would be none. A couple last long strokes and Sam released him. Nudged Gene's knee with his own, urging his legs closer together. His own cock twitched in anticipation as he moved closer to Gene, kneeling behind him. But he refused to hurry, carefully laying his chest against Gene's broad back, stretching forward to nibble at the back of his neck.
"Taking your own sweet time," Gene grumbled, summoning up a complaint now Sam's distracting hand was gone. Sam bit harder in response and distracted him again, reaching around this time. Gene was rock hard now, cock curving up towards his gut, dribbles of pre-cum adding to the generous lubrication. Sam took an extra moment to enjoy the sensation of Gene shifting impatiently under him, full body contact, his cock nestling comfortably in the cleft of Gene's arse before he shifted and thrust between Gene's closed thighs.
Gene hissed as Sam's cock rubbed against his tight bollocks, lubed up skin sliding pleasurably together. Sam worked Gene in time to his own tentative thrusts, other hand on Gene's hip, pulling his back as Sam pushed forward, thrusting further until the head of his cock was rubbing up and down the underside of Gene's shaft.
"Shit, Tyler! That's... Inter-what?"
"Intercrural," Sam repeated. He shifted his grip to accommodate them both and worked a little faster. "Means 'between the legs.'" The pressure of Gene's thighs was distracting to say the least and Sam struggled to continue. "From the Latin. Or maybe it's Greek- Oh fuck, Gene..."
Gene shoved back against him. "Never did get that dirty talk right," he commented breathlessly. "More 'yes, my well hung stallion' less etymology."
"Stallion," Sam repeated, stupid with sex. Too far gone to engage in the banter he scratched his finger nails over Gene's nipples and sucked on the sweaty skin between his shoulder blades, trying to reduce Gene to the same state. For several minutes there was nothing but inarticulate groans and the slap of skin against skin. Sam came first, overcome as much by the thrill of being on top, setting the pace, being the man as much as by any particular sensation. His spurts coated Gene's cock and the fist working it and the other man followed him over the edge.
Gene collapsed onto his stomach and Sam sprawled bonelessly on top of him. "Well?" he demanded, when he found his voice again.
"You want marks out of ten?" Gene asked, sleepily sarcastic and muffled by the pillow.
"A simple 'You were entirely right, Sam, I should listen to you more often' would do."
"I could say that, but the world might end and then where would we be? You shifting or what?"
"What," Sam answered, head comfortably pillowed between Gene's shoulder blades. "Just a little nap first."
Gene made a token effort at moving, but Sam's weight and general lethargy proved too much. "Lazy sod," he grumbled instead. "Happy birthday, Sam."