Porntober!Fic: One Year, by severinne (Sam/Gene, Brown Cortina)
Title: One Year
Author: severinne
Rating: Brown Cortina for rampant manly wall-sex, with a dash of roleplay and exhibitionism
Pairing: Sam/Gene
Word Count: Just shy of 3000
Summary: I think I recall seeing something at the Anonymous Pornfest II about Sam wearing Gene's coat and nothing else? That's a plot point, right? This isn't helping me finish Ficathon at all, but can't let Porntober go by without porn...
Gene woke up alone, though a familiar scent and warmth still wafted like early-morning fog over the empty patch of carpet at his side. His sleep-clumsy hand groped over the abandoned space in his night-darkened sitting room, catching a settee cushion and a discarded shoe before he reached the low coffee table. There was a spill of whisky left in one of the paired glasses, which he instinctively swigged down but it brought little relief to his parched mouth. It was the twilight moment between pleasant drunkenness and an oncoming hangover, and now he was awake he was damn thirsty.
Eyes adjusting to the faint orange light pressing the net curtains, Gene found his trousers and squirmed awkwardly into them before lumbering to his feet, half-heartedly swiping his shirt from the end of the settee and shrugging into its sleeves on his way to the kitchen. He moved unthinkingly towards the kettle but his eyes, blearily trained on the floor, were caught by a narrow zip of light thrown across the tiles, glowing in the dark of the kitchen and pointing towards the slightly-open back door like an arrow on a map.
Something tight in his chest he hadn’t yet acknowledged loosened and relaxed with the awareness of Sam’s whereabouts. The kettle forgotten, he swung the door open and stepped onto the narrow landing overlooking the barren back garden. There was just room enough to stand with Sam leaning back against the house, room enough to slouch next to him with the door pulled firmly shut again. He didn’t speak, didn’t even comment on the fact that Sam had taken his camelhair coat for warmth, but simply breathed the crisp night air until the scent of something acrid and silken wisped towards him, filling him with longing.
‘Nicked my fags and all, did you?’ he grumbled, glancing sideways.
‘Just the one.’ Sam raised his right hand from where it had been tucked close to his hip, gave Gene a lazy wave with the lit cigarette and took a slow drag. Ash ignited red in the dark, illuminating the shadows of Sam’s face before a thin plume of smoke unfolded from his pursed lips. Gene licked his own dry lips as he watched, entranced.
‘I’ve heard these things can kill you.’ He plucked the cigarette from Sam’s fingers.
‘Not anymore.’
Gene fixed him with an incredulous stare as he huffed out his own lungful of smoke. ‘Well, that’s a bloody relief. One less thing for you to nag me about like a sodding fishwife.’
‘Didn’t say that.’ Sam snatched the fag back with a teasing smirk. ‘D’you know what day it is?’
Inwardly, Gene rolled his eyes, repressing a groan. ‘Nope,’ he admitted, deciding the truth was better than wild guesswork. ‘But whatever it is, I’ll buy you flowers later, you soft girl.’
Sam shook his head, exhaled another blue-grey breath. ‘Later today,’ he explained solemnly, ‘will be exactly one year from the moment I arrived here. The day I joined your department.’
‘Oh.’ Unlike the many forgotten anniversaries of his defunct marriage, Gene felt a pang of regret at his piss-poor attention to these details Sam so loved. That was a day worth commemorating, even if saying it now would sound insincere and stupid. Instead, he pressed his lips tight together and stared into the incomprehensible dark of the back garden, at a loss for words.
‘It’s been a year,’ Sam repeated, with something like the wonder Gene was beginning to feel at the edges of his guilt. ‘Don’t think I’m ever going back now. So it doesn’t matter anymore.’
Gene glanced sideways, brow furrowed as he watched Sam deplete the cigarette with a long, steady drag and hold the last inhale for a breathless pause. The smile that slowly crept over his face when he had finally released his mouthful of smoke into the night made Gene’s stomach clench uneasily with worry that he was missing something significant in Sam’s actions and words, something he should understand by now but that evaded him like a ghost every time.
‘Sam,’ he began, but then he stalled, not quite sure what he meant to say anyway. Instead, he watched the dead end of the cigarette drop from Sam’s fingers to the concrete landing, where Sam carefully ground out the last embers with the heel of his boot. Gene blinked. Those were his workboots, old things with frayed laces that always went untied but Gene kept them by the back door for the odd trip to the garden shed. Although him and Sam were fairly close in shoe size, they seemed ridiculously large on him, with long skinny calves sticking out from the tops, and…
Gene sucked in a sharp breath, heat burning away any lingering worries. ‘Um, Sam,’ he tried again.
‘Yeah?’
‘What’ve you got on under my coat?’
Sam glanced sideways at him from beneath lowered lashes, soft lips parted a moment before he spoke. ‘What do you think, Chief Inspector Hunt?’
Everything about that look and that tone of voice beckoned like an engraved invitation, and Gene didn’t need telling twice. Pushing away from the door, he pivoted sideways to face Sam, crowding him up against the side of the house with a hand braced to the brick wall next to his head. ‘I think,’ he rumbled softly, ‘I had best investigate before drawing any conclusions. See, I’ve got this picky pain in the arse for a DI, very big on procedure.’
As he spoke, Gene folded down the upturned lapels of his coat, exposing Sam’s neck to his fingers and the cool night air. Humming softly, Sam tipped his chin back, allowing a better view. ‘I think I know the type,’ he agreed lazily. ‘Sounds like a smart bloke.’
‘Smart-arse, more like.’ Gene kept his gaze lowered, watching his fingers loosen each large plastic button from its hole, one slow deliberate flick at a time. He could feel Sam’s heart fluttering quick through his bare chest as he slid his hand down, and almost wished that the coat had more than three buttons with which to draw this moment out. The last button slipped open too soon, not soon enough, and his hand parted the heavy drape of camelhair to find Sam fully hard - and yes, quite naked - underneath.
‘Just as I thought,’ he purred, wrapping his fingers around the velvet-skinned heat of Sam’s erection. ‘Y’know, I normally arrest blokes like you for lewd behaviour.’
Sam laughed softly, one of his rare proper-laughs that always managed to warm Gene through like a good scotch. ‘Well,’ he said, relaxing back against the brick wall, all loose limbs and insouciant pout, ‘maybe I can convince you to let me off easy, just this once? I’ll make it worth your while.’
The smile crinkling at the corners of Sam’s eyes reinforced the lame joke, but the light-hearted ease in Sam’s body and words only served to heighten Gene’s arousal, drawn to all the possible pleasures he could take in this pliant parody of his lover. Lunging without thinking, he captured that flirting mouth with his own, sucking hard on Sam’s eager tongue and tasting the smoke and sleep in his mouth before hastily moving along his jaw, down his neck, and further, claiming with kisses what his hands were already exploring underneath the loose coat. Sam gasped and rolled into each grope, lick and bite, his own hands anchored to Gene’s shoulders and encouraging him downward until his knees hit the concrete step with a sharp knock that echoed through his bum leg, not nearly uncomfortable enough to distract him from the heady musk luring him to Sam’s flushed and desperate cock.
Hands still feverishly wandering from knobbly knees to sharp hipbones, Gene scented Sam’s length down to the root before licking a wet stripe back upward, making Sam shiver enticingly against his lips before he swallowed him down. He sucked gently with a minimum of movement, listening to Sam’s breathy gasps even themselves out, then slid his tongue firmly along the underside of his cock and pulled back swiftly to the tip before pushing forward again.
‘Oh, fuck.’ Sam groaned, and he choked back the sound as it echoed loud around them. Glancing up, Gene saw him bite hard into the heel of his hand, burying his face in the too-large cuff of the coat’s overlong sleeve to muffle what sounded like a needy whimper. Defiantly, Gene tongued rapidly over the head of his cock and slid a hand up the back of Sam’s trembling thigh beneath the coat to the curve of his arse, watching Sam’s lust-bright eyes watching him over the protective shield of his sleeve with mounting trepidation and desire.
‘Gene…’ He dropped his hand from his mouth, tentatively threading fingers through Gene’s sleep-mussed hair. ‘Please… ah…’ His eyes squeezed shut on another loud cry, his head knocking back into the wall as Gene’s middle finger found the tight rim of his hole and pushed ruthlessly into him. His finger slid smoothly up to the knuckle, and Gene’s cock throbbed in his trousers to find Sam was still wet inside from when Gene had taken him earlier that evening, in his favourite armchair and on the floor and over the arm of the settee.
He hummed appreciatively around Sam’s hardness in his mouth, and began to work him open with two fingers, then three, accompanied by Sam’s throaty moans and sharp gasps. The hand buried in Gene’s hair tugged painfully hard at the long strands but the leg Sam flung over his shoulder egged him on, the heel of the heavy boot digging demandingly into Gene’s ribs. The hitch of Sam’s thigh opened him to Gene’s hand, and he drew back from Sam’s cock to focus on the task of fingering that tight arse to readiness.
‘God damn, just look at you.’ Gene shrugged off the hand tangling his hair, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the inside of Sam’s thigh where it clenched hard at his shoulder. ‘Already naked and hard and soaking wet for me like some dirty rent-boy prowling for his next trick…’ He stabbed his fingers hard at Sam’s prostate, watching him arch and moan above him, eyelashes fluttering shut. ‘That what you were after, out in the night like this?’
Sam licked his lips, gasping for breath. ‘Yeah…’ he agreed, a dry rasp breaking his voice. ‘Yeah, that’s…’
‘Touch yourself,’ Gene commanded harshly, sitting back on his haunches, fingers still fucking Sam whilst he watched one of his hands drift down his flat stomach and wrap firmly around his cock. ‘Good boy,’ Gene murmured, his own free hand dropping into his lap to rub through his trousers at his own straining erection. ‘Go on… play with your pretty cock and tell me how badly you need to be fucked.’
The long, almost elegant stroke of Sam’s hand stuttered at Gene’s words, fingers clenching with shocked arousal. ‘Fuck’ he gasped, staring down at Gene with wide eyes and flushed cheeks. ‘Yeah, I…’ He resumed stroking again, taut muscles relaxing again around Gene’s fingers. ‘Yeah, I need it so bad, need to feel your hard, thick cock filling me up, fucking me so hard… oh god…’ Sam’s eyes squeezed shut, his hand moving faster. ‘Please, yes… fuck me, need to feel you…’
Gene could see Sam’s control crumbling, and hastily seized his wrist in an iron grip before he could finish himself off. ‘You want me to fuck you?’ he asked breathlessly, his own arousal growing unbearable. ‘Right here, outside, where any of the neighbours might see what a cheap tart you are?’
‘Yes, right fucking here, damn it.’ Sam gritted out the command, seething and wild, desperately riding his fingers. ‘Let them watch, want them all to see how you can’t help yourself, throwing me up against the wall and driving into me, fucking me like some - oh, fuck.’ He broke off with a sharply drawn breath, unprepared for the speed at which Gene had yanked his fingers out of Sam’s arse, pushed to his feet and taken Sam’s leg with him, hoisting his thigh at what was likely an uncomfortable angle while his other hand fumbled to unfasten his trousers.
‘They’ll see, alright,’ he growled as he manhandled Sam’s body, pushing and groping beneath his coat to ease the thrust of his cock up between Sam’s splayed legs. ‘See you getting fucked like some back-alley prossie, you dirty little… oh, yeah, just like that…’ Gene groaned as he rapidly sank into tight heat, by some miracle of luck and Sam’s flexibility - he had no idea Sam could wrap his leg around his waist like that - and the wall supporting Sam’s weight as Gene pushed up and into him.
‘Yes…’ Sam hissed, clinging hard to Gene’s shoulders as he pushed back into the wall and Gene was suddenly scrabbling to catch Sam’s weight as he kicked his other foot off the ground and tightly hooked both legs around Gene’s hips. Work boots gouged heavy into the small of his back, a vicious counterpoint to the thick pressure of Sam’s cock throbbing against his belly, trapped between their tightly entwined bodies.
Panting, shaking with exertion, Gene tightened his newfound grip on Sam’s thighs and slammed them both hard into the wall, letting loose a satisfied growl as Sam shouted and came hotly between them as though orgasm had been forced out of him by the impact of the wall reverberating through his body. Sam tightened his grip on Gene as he rode out the aftershocks, holding fierce enough to withstand Gene’s increasingly savage pace, holding too closely for Gene to manage the deep thrusts he so desperately needed but then Sam buried his face into Gene’s shoulder and bit down hard into his neck and he was coming apart in waves, shuddering deep into Sam’s body.
Orgasm left him depleted, his arms and legs trembling such that he wasn’t sure if he had managed to help Sam back down to earth or just dropped him. Sam’s weary grunt of discomfort was hard to read, his reproving glare far less so.
‘None of that, Sammy,’ Gene said wearily, sagging into Sam where he slouched against the wall and nuzzling lazily at his now-sweaty throat. ‘It’s your fault I won’t be able to wear my coat again without getting a right hard-on.’ He added his own bite for good measure, licking soothingly at Sam’s faint moan of discomfort.
‘Bloody coat’s the only thing that saved my back from being ripped to shreds.’ Sam squirmed against him, groaning softly at the back of his throat. ‘Think I’ve got your house’s bloody brickwork bruised into my spine.’
Gene swallowed tightly, his mind fogging over with the fleeting image of Sam naked and spread out beneath him in the master bedroom, squirming deliciously over the sheets whilst Gene kissed and licked every purpling mark on his long, smooth back… He shook his head. ‘Could be our bloody brickwork, y’know.’
The offer slipped from his mouth before he could stop it, or even delay it long enough to word it properly. He could tell, from Sam’s squinty-eyed frown, that it had come out stupid and wrong.
‘I mean… s’like you said,’ he continued awkwardly, pushing back and fumbling to tug his trousers back up. ‘It’s been a year you’ve been living in that flea-bitten shithole of yours, and you already spend most your nights here, and okay, we might have to make up some bollocks about you being my lodger or summat, but really, it-’
‘Are you asking me to move in with you?’
In Sam’s disbelieving tone, it did sound like a crazy idea, but damned if Gene was going to concede the sane ground to the one of them who was clearly a nutter. ‘Sure, why not?’ he huffed. ‘But if you’re taking it, I ain’t buying you any sodding flowers as well for the occasion. One gift maximum, you greedy beggar.’
The flickering incredulity on Sam’s face melted, then dazzled into a wide grin. ‘Really?’ he asked, like it was some sort of joke and the hammering stampede of anxious hope in Gene’s chest didn’t exist.
‘Sam,’ he sighed, almost nauseous with impatience, ‘you’ve got my coat and my fags and my love and devotion and I’m pretty sure you drank the last of my single malt so yes, you may as well have the house while you’re at it. If you want it.’ Mortified by his own bluntness, he stared down his bare feet growing cold on the concrete step. ‘You’ve got my boots, too,’ he grumbled.
Staring resolutely down, all he saw was the shuffle of those boots before he was taken off guard by the arms flung around him, squeezing warmth back into his aching body. ‘I do want it,’ Sam said fervently, lips against his ear. ‘I… I want to call this our home, I mean. I don’t want your manky old boots, and you can have your coat back just as soon as I’ve taken it to the cleaners-’
‘Never mind the bloody cleaners.’ Nose buried in the shoulder of his own coat, Gene was growing dizzy on Sam’s scent clinging to the camelhair like it belonged there. Or maybe the light-headedness was relief, or that hangover coming on. ‘And you’re not taking this off until we’ve got you back inside, you’ll freeze your todger off and ruin all my fun otherwise.’
‘Best head inside then,’ Sam agreed smoothly, wriggling closer to Gene and drawing the coat tighter around them both, inviting his hands to slip inside for warmth and an appreciative grope over Sam’s arse. ‘Don’t need you losing any vital limbs either.’
Gene grunted his agreement as he hoisted Sam clumsily into his arms and lumbered them both inside, already plotting how long he could convince Sam to keep the coat on.
Author: severinne
Rating: Brown Cortina for rampant manly wall-sex, with a dash of roleplay and exhibitionism
Pairing: Sam/Gene
Word Count: Just shy of 3000
Summary: I think I recall seeing something at the Anonymous Pornfest II about Sam wearing Gene's coat and nothing else? That's a plot point, right? This isn't helping me finish Ficathon at all, but can't let Porntober go by without porn...
Gene woke up alone, though a familiar scent and warmth still wafted like early-morning fog over the empty patch of carpet at his side. His sleep-clumsy hand groped over the abandoned space in his night-darkened sitting room, catching a settee cushion and a discarded shoe before he reached the low coffee table. There was a spill of whisky left in one of the paired glasses, which he instinctively swigged down but it brought little relief to his parched mouth. It was the twilight moment between pleasant drunkenness and an oncoming hangover, and now he was awake he was damn thirsty.
Eyes adjusting to the faint orange light pressing the net curtains, Gene found his trousers and squirmed awkwardly into them before lumbering to his feet, half-heartedly swiping his shirt from the end of the settee and shrugging into its sleeves on his way to the kitchen. He moved unthinkingly towards the kettle but his eyes, blearily trained on the floor, were caught by a narrow zip of light thrown across the tiles, glowing in the dark of the kitchen and pointing towards the slightly-open back door like an arrow on a map.
Something tight in his chest he hadn’t yet acknowledged loosened and relaxed with the awareness of Sam’s whereabouts. The kettle forgotten, he swung the door open and stepped onto the narrow landing overlooking the barren back garden. There was just room enough to stand with Sam leaning back against the house, room enough to slouch next to him with the door pulled firmly shut again. He didn’t speak, didn’t even comment on the fact that Sam had taken his camelhair coat for warmth, but simply breathed the crisp night air until the scent of something acrid and silken wisped towards him, filling him with longing.
‘Nicked my fags and all, did you?’ he grumbled, glancing sideways.
‘Just the one.’ Sam raised his right hand from where it had been tucked close to his hip, gave Gene a lazy wave with the lit cigarette and took a slow drag. Ash ignited red in the dark, illuminating the shadows of Sam’s face before a thin plume of smoke unfolded from his pursed lips. Gene licked his own dry lips as he watched, entranced.
‘I’ve heard these things can kill you.’ He plucked the cigarette from Sam’s fingers.
‘Not anymore.’
Gene fixed him with an incredulous stare as he huffed out his own lungful of smoke. ‘Well, that’s a bloody relief. One less thing for you to nag me about like a sodding fishwife.’
‘Didn’t say that.’ Sam snatched the fag back with a teasing smirk. ‘D’you know what day it is?’
Inwardly, Gene rolled his eyes, repressing a groan. ‘Nope,’ he admitted, deciding the truth was better than wild guesswork. ‘But whatever it is, I’ll buy you flowers later, you soft girl.’
Sam shook his head, exhaled another blue-grey breath. ‘Later today,’ he explained solemnly, ‘will be exactly one year from the moment I arrived here. The day I joined your department.’
‘Oh.’ Unlike the many forgotten anniversaries of his defunct marriage, Gene felt a pang of regret at his piss-poor attention to these details Sam so loved. That was a day worth commemorating, even if saying it now would sound insincere and stupid. Instead, he pressed his lips tight together and stared into the incomprehensible dark of the back garden, at a loss for words.
‘It’s been a year,’ Sam repeated, with something like the wonder Gene was beginning to feel at the edges of his guilt. ‘Don’t think I’m ever going back now. So it doesn’t matter anymore.’
Gene glanced sideways, brow furrowed as he watched Sam deplete the cigarette with a long, steady drag and hold the last inhale for a breathless pause. The smile that slowly crept over his face when he had finally released his mouthful of smoke into the night made Gene’s stomach clench uneasily with worry that he was missing something significant in Sam’s actions and words, something he should understand by now but that evaded him like a ghost every time.
‘Sam,’ he began, but then he stalled, not quite sure what he meant to say anyway. Instead, he watched the dead end of the cigarette drop from Sam’s fingers to the concrete landing, where Sam carefully ground out the last embers with the heel of his boot. Gene blinked. Those were his workboots, old things with frayed laces that always went untied but Gene kept them by the back door for the odd trip to the garden shed. Although him and Sam were fairly close in shoe size, they seemed ridiculously large on him, with long skinny calves sticking out from the tops, and…
Gene sucked in a sharp breath, heat burning away any lingering worries. ‘Um, Sam,’ he tried again.
‘Yeah?’
‘What’ve you got on under my coat?’
Sam glanced sideways at him from beneath lowered lashes, soft lips parted a moment before he spoke. ‘What do you think, Chief Inspector Hunt?’
Everything about that look and that tone of voice beckoned like an engraved invitation, and Gene didn’t need telling twice. Pushing away from the door, he pivoted sideways to face Sam, crowding him up against the side of the house with a hand braced to the brick wall next to his head. ‘I think,’ he rumbled softly, ‘I had best investigate before drawing any conclusions. See, I’ve got this picky pain in the arse for a DI, very big on procedure.’
As he spoke, Gene folded down the upturned lapels of his coat, exposing Sam’s neck to his fingers and the cool night air. Humming softly, Sam tipped his chin back, allowing a better view. ‘I think I know the type,’ he agreed lazily. ‘Sounds like a smart bloke.’
‘Smart-arse, more like.’ Gene kept his gaze lowered, watching his fingers loosen each large plastic button from its hole, one slow deliberate flick at a time. He could feel Sam’s heart fluttering quick through his bare chest as he slid his hand down, and almost wished that the coat had more than three buttons with which to draw this moment out. The last button slipped open too soon, not soon enough, and his hand parted the heavy drape of camelhair to find Sam fully hard - and yes, quite naked - underneath.
‘Just as I thought,’ he purred, wrapping his fingers around the velvet-skinned heat of Sam’s erection. ‘Y’know, I normally arrest blokes like you for lewd behaviour.’
Sam laughed softly, one of his rare proper-laughs that always managed to warm Gene through like a good scotch. ‘Well,’ he said, relaxing back against the brick wall, all loose limbs and insouciant pout, ‘maybe I can convince you to let me off easy, just this once? I’ll make it worth your while.’
The smile crinkling at the corners of Sam’s eyes reinforced the lame joke, but the light-hearted ease in Sam’s body and words only served to heighten Gene’s arousal, drawn to all the possible pleasures he could take in this pliant parody of his lover. Lunging without thinking, he captured that flirting mouth with his own, sucking hard on Sam’s eager tongue and tasting the smoke and sleep in his mouth before hastily moving along his jaw, down his neck, and further, claiming with kisses what his hands were already exploring underneath the loose coat. Sam gasped and rolled into each grope, lick and bite, his own hands anchored to Gene’s shoulders and encouraging him downward until his knees hit the concrete step with a sharp knock that echoed through his bum leg, not nearly uncomfortable enough to distract him from the heady musk luring him to Sam’s flushed and desperate cock.
Hands still feverishly wandering from knobbly knees to sharp hipbones, Gene scented Sam’s length down to the root before licking a wet stripe back upward, making Sam shiver enticingly against his lips before he swallowed him down. He sucked gently with a minimum of movement, listening to Sam’s breathy gasps even themselves out, then slid his tongue firmly along the underside of his cock and pulled back swiftly to the tip before pushing forward again.
‘Oh, fuck.’ Sam groaned, and he choked back the sound as it echoed loud around them. Glancing up, Gene saw him bite hard into the heel of his hand, burying his face in the too-large cuff of the coat’s overlong sleeve to muffle what sounded like a needy whimper. Defiantly, Gene tongued rapidly over the head of his cock and slid a hand up the back of Sam’s trembling thigh beneath the coat to the curve of his arse, watching Sam’s lust-bright eyes watching him over the protective shield of his sleeve with mounting trepidation and desire.
‘Gene…’ He dropped his hand from his mouth, tentatively threading fingers through Gene’s sleep-mussed hair. ‘Please… ah…’ His eyes squeezed shut on another loud cry, his head knocking back into the wall as Gene’s middle finger found the tight rim of his hole and pushed ruthlessly into him. His finger slid smoothly up to the knuckle, and Gene’s cock throbbed in his trousers to find Sam was still wet inside from when Gene had taken him earlier that evening, in his favourite armchair and on the floor and over the arm of the settee.
He hummed appreciatively around Sam’s hardness in his mouth, and began to work him open with two fingers, then three, accompanied by Sam’s throaty moans and sharp gasps. The hand buried in Gene’s hair tugged painfully hard at the long strands but the leg Sam flung over his shoulder egged him on, the heel of the heavy boot digging demandingly into Gene’s ribs. The hitch of Sam’s thigh opened him to Gene’s hand, and he drew back from Sam’s cock to focus on the task of fingering that tight arse to readiness.
‘God damn, just look at you.’ Gene shrugged off the hand tangling his hair, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the inside of Sam’s thigh where it clenched hard at his shoulder. ‘Already naked and hard and soaking wet for me like some dirty rent-boy prowling for his next trick…’ He stabbed his fingers hard at Sam’s prostate, watching him arch and moan above him, eyelashes fluttering shut. ‘That what you were after, out in the night like this?’
Sam licked his lips, gasping for breath. ‘Yeah…’ he agreed, a dry rasp breaking his voice. ‘Yeah, that’s…’
‘Touch yourself,’ Gene commanded harshly, sitting back on his haunches, fingers still fucking Sam whilst he watched one of his hands drift down his flat stomach and wrap firmly around his cock. ‘Good boy,’ Gene murmured, his own free hand dropping into his lap to rub through his trousers at his own straining erection. ‘Go on… play with your pretty cock and tell me how badly you need to be fucked.’
The long, almost elegant stroke of Sam’s hand stuttered at Gene’s words, fingers clenching with shocked arousal. ‘Fuck’ he gasped, staring down at Gene with wide eyes and flushed cheeks. ‘Yeah, I…’ He resumed stroking again, taut muscles relaxing again around Gene’s fingers. ‘Yeah, I need it so bad, need to feel your hard, thick cock filling me up, fucking me so hard… oh god…’ Sam’s eyes squeezed shut, his hand moving faster. ‘Please, yes… fuck me, need to feel you…’
Gene could see Sam’s control crumbling, and hastily seized his wrist in an iron grip before he could finish himself off. ‘You want me to fuck you?’ he asked breathlessly, his own arousal growing unbearable. ‘Right here, outside, where any of the neighbours might see what a cheap tart you are?’
‘Yes, right fucking here, damn it.’ Sam gritted out the command, seething and wild, desperately riding his fingers. ‘Let them watch, want them all to see how you can’t help yourself, throwing me up against the wall and driving into me, fucking me like some - oh, fuck.’ He broke off with a sharply drawn breath, unprepared for the speed at which Gene had yanked his fingers out of Sam’s arse, pushed to his feet and taken Sam’s leg with him, hoisting his thigh at what was likely an uncomfortable angle while his other hand fumbled to unfasten his trousers.
‘They’ll see, alright,’ he growled as he manhandled Sam’s body, pushing and groping beneath his coat to ease the thrust of his cock up between Sam’s splayed legs. ‘See you getting fucked like some back-alley prossie, you dirty little… oh, yeah, just like that…’ Gene groaned as he rapidly sank into tight heat, by some miracle of luck and Sam’s flexibility - he had no idea Sam could wrap his leg around his waist like that - and the wall supporting Sam’s weight as Gene pushed up and into him.
‘Yes…’ Sam hissed, clinging hard to Gene’s shoulders as he pushed back into the wall and Gene was suddenly scrabbling to catch Sam’s weight as he kicked his other foot off the ground and tightly hooked both legs around Gene’s hips. Work boots gouged heavy into the small of his back, a vicious counterpoint to the thick pressure of Sam’s cock throbbing against his belly, trapped between their tightly entwined bodies.
Panting, shaking with exertion, Gene tightened his newfound grip on Sam’s thighs and slammed them both hard into the wall, letting loose a satisfied growl as Sam shouted and came hotly between them as though orgasm had been forced out of him by the impact of the wall reverberating through his body. Sam tightened his grip on Gene as he rode out the aftershocks, holding fierce enough to withstand Gene’s increasingly savage pace, holding too closely for Gene to manage the deep thrusts he so desperately needed but then Sam buried his face into Gene’s shoulder and bit down hard into his neck and he was coming apart in waves, shuddering deep into Sam’s body.
Orgasm left him depleted, his arms and legs trembling such that he wasn’t sure if he had managed to help Sam back down to earth or just dropped him. Sam’s weary grunt of discomfort was hard to read, his reproving glare far less so.
‘None of that, Sammy,’ Gene said wearily, sagging into Sam where he slouched against the wall and nuzzling lazily at his now-sweaty throat. ‘It’s your fault I won’t be able to wear my coat again without getting a right hard-on.’ He added his own bite for good measure, licking soothingly at Sam’s faint moan of discomfort.
‘Bloody coat’s the only thing that saved my back from being ripped to shreds.’ Sam squirmed against him, groaning softly at the back of his throat. ‘Think I’ve got your house’s bloody brickwork bruised into my spine.’
Gene swallowed tightly, his mind fogging over with the fleeting image of Sam naked and spread out beneath him in the master bedroom, squirming deliciously over the sheets whilst Gene kissed and licked every purpling mark on his long, smooth back… He shook his head. ‘Could be our bloody brickwork, y’know.’
The offer slipped from his mouth before he could stop it, or even delay it long enough to word it properly. He could tell, from Sam’s squinty-eyed frown, that it had come out stupid and wrong.
‘I mean… s’like you said,’ he continued awkwardly, pushing back and fumbling to tug his trousers back up. ‘It’s been a year you’ve been living in that flea-bitten shithole of yours, and you already spend most your nights here, and okay, we might have to make up some bollocks about you being my lodger or summat, but really, it-’
‘Are you asking me to move in with you?’
In Sam’s disbelieving tone, it did sound like a crazy idea, but damned if Gene was going to concede the sane ground to the one of them who was clearly a nutter. ‘Sure, why not?’ he huffed. ‘But if you’re taking it, I ain’t buying you any sodding flowers as well for the occasion. One gift maximum, you greedy beggar.’
The flickering incredulity on Sam’s face melted, then dazzled into a wide grin. ‘Really?’ he asked, like it was some sort of joke and the hammering stampede of anxious hope in Gene’s chest didn’t exist.
‘Sam,’ he sighed, almost nauseous with impatience, ‘you’ve got my coat and my fags and my love and devotion and I’m pretty sure you drank the last of my single malt so yes, you may as well have the house while you’re at it. If you want it.’ Mortified by his own bluntness, he stared down his bare feet growing cold on the concrete step. ‘You’ve got my boots, too,’ he grumbled.
Staring resolutely down, all he saw was the shuffle of those boots before he was taken off guard by the arms flung around him, squeezing warmth back into his aching body. ‘I do want it,’ Sam said fervently, lips against his ear. ‘I… I want to call this our home, I mean. I don’t want your manky old boots, and you can have your coat back just as soon as I’ve taken it to the cleaners-’
‘Never mind the bloody cleaners.’ Nose buried in the shoulder of his own coat, Gene was growing dizzy on Sam’s scent clinging to the camelhair like it belonged there. Or maybe the light-headedness was relief, or that hangover coming on. ‘And you’re not taking this off until we’ve got you back inside, you’ll freeze your todger off and ruin all my fun otherwise.’
‘Best head inside then,’ Sam agreed smoothly, wriggling closer to Gene and drawing the coat tighter around them both, inviting his hands to slip inside for warmth and an appreciative grope over Sam’s arse. ‘Don’t need you losing any vital limbs either.’
Gene grunted his agreement as he hoisted Sam clumsily into his arms and lumbered them both inside, already plotting how long he could convince Sam to keep the coat on.