Fic: The Battle of Britain, by severinne (Brown Cortina)
Title: The Battle of Britain
Author: severinne
Pairing: Sam/Gene
Rating: Brown Cortina for the smut
Word Count: 1642
Summary: Sam isn't sure why murders keep happening in places of personal significance. But damned if he isn't going to take advantage of this one.
Author's Note: Written as utterly unplanned birthday!fic for amproof, who shares my philosophical outlook on birthdays in general but really wanted to see some library smut on her special day. Hope it does the job, and that you have (had?) a fabulous day!
ETA: Despite my diminishing sense of time, I've just realized that this also qualifies as Porntober fic. *g*
Gene did not consider himself the sort of man who let himself be dragged about by anyone; it was only surprise that had given Sam the opportunity to grab him by the arm and steer him forcefully from away from the crime scene, around the high library shelving and into the next aisle of books. ‘Where the hell are we going, you daft nonce?’ he barked.
‘Shh,’ Sam admonished, distracted by his squinting study of the shelves. ‘It know it’s here somewhere... Battle of Britain... yes.’
Gene opened his mouth to demand an explanation for Sam’s complete lack of one, and nearly choked when he found his question blocked by Sam’s overeager mouth, his agile tongue slipping quick past his lips. Momentarily stunned, he allowed himself to be shoved into the shelves by demanding hands and rolling hips that revealed exactly how hard and ready Sam was before sense and shock took over. Hands that had instinctively grabbed Sam’s arse clawed up to his shoulders to push his squirming DI back to a safe distance.
‘Are you insane?’ he hissed breathlessly, eyes frantically scanning the long aisle even though he knew plod had cordoned off half the stacks on this floor and forensics had already gone home to their gay-boy laboratories. ‘Who am I kidding, of course you’re insane, and believe you me, I’m willing to put up with all sorts of your gibbering nonsense but so help me, if you’re getting all hot and bothered over that dead bloke, we might have a bit of a problem on our-’
‘Gene.’ The slippery bastard cut him off with fingers pressed to his mouth, with his body pressing close again while he had been distracted by his own rising panic. ‘Gene, no, it’s not...’ Sam shook his head, huffed the sort of privately amused laugh that did nothing to soothe Gene’s nerves. ‘It’s just... right here, I remember all the books on this shelf while we were...’ He shifted his hand from Gene’s mouth, past his head to stroke the spines of densely packed history books. ‘Battle of Britain,’ he repeated enigmatically. Inexplicably, Sam was gently thrusting against his thigh again, causing Gene to shudder with both arousal and disgust.
‘We’re not having it off over the bloody Luftwaffe either, you filthy pervert.’
‘No, we’re not,’ Sam agreed, drawing back to fix Gene with an intent stare that made his heart stop. ‘But we are standing on the exact spot where I lost my virginity.’
Gene swallowed hard with a hollow click. Even with his mind stalled by sudden and lurid images, he felt pieces of understanding fall into place around the puzzle of Sam’s reaction on first scanning the crime scene, the way that delicious but inexplicable blush had bloomed in his face, the soft curse that had slipped from his lips. For a moment there, Gene had worried that Sam was having another of his odd turns, the sort that had set him rambling on about kitchens and flats during that trouble at the textile mill, but maybe this reaction was more natural and sane. And more than a bit of a turn-on.
‘Is that so, Gladys?’ Gene glanced sideways down the long aisle of books, assessing the scene and checking one last time for on-lookers. ‘Figures you’d be just the sort of ponce to have his first tumble in the sodding central library. Who was the lucky bird in this aisle then, Amelia bloody Earhart?’
A wry smirk pulled at Sam’s lips. ‘Paul Gibson.’
Heat crashed through Gene, slammed straight into his dick. ‘Fuck.’
‘Mm-hmn.’ Sam’s clever hands danced familiarly over his belt and flies, taking advantage of Gene’s temporary paralysis to wrap a steady hand around Gene’s flushed erection. ‘I’d fooled around with a few girls, sure, but they were all decent and good and not the sort to let me go further than downstairs outside. Paul, on the other hand...’ He stroked once, slowly, drawing a deep groan from Gene’s throat. Propriety forgotten, Gene fumbled his own less steady hands into Sam’s tight trousers, purring with satisfaction as his palm slid over the hard press of Sam’s cock through the thin cotton of his y-fronts.
‘Tell me,’ Gene demanded hoarsely, rubbing slowly over heated hardness. ‘Want to know every dirty little thing you did here, what it was like...’
‘Just like this...’ Sam pushed into his hand, eyes drifting closed. ‘He touched me first, just like this... I was so nervous, even though we’d come all the way down here because it was so quiet...’
‘Didn’t stop you though, did it?’ Hand moving faster over Sam’s bulging cock, Gene dipped his head into his long throat, licking and biting up to his ear. ‘You dirty little thing.’
‘Wanted to impress him.’ Sam tipped his head back, allowing Gene to mouth his way down to the open collar of his shirt. ‘Paul was a bit older than me, already in uniform... he was helping me get through Academy coursework, that’s why we were here...’
A dark suspicion cut sharply through Gene’s arousal, made his lips pause over Sam’s collarbone. Though he hated to ask, with Sam hot and writhing against him, he couldn’t continue without knowing. ‘He didn’t... Sammy, this bloke, he wasn’t making you...’
‘What?’ Sam’s head dropped down, then shook rigorously side to side. ‘Oh, no, not... no, Gene, it wasn’t like that,’ he answered firmly. ‘I wanted it... wanted it so much, Paul was gorgeous, incredibly fit... and the things he could do with his - ah...’ Sam shivered and arched harder into Gene’s body, his reminiscences cut off by Gene’s thumb rolling slow and smooth over the damp crown of his dick. Eyes narrowed, Gene repeated the motion, his worries now doused by a jealousy that made him long to see Sam come undone under his hands, though his hunger for Sam’s words remained.
‘Did he fuck you, Sam?’ he asked darkly, drawing him closer with a hand clenched hard on his arse. ‘Right here, up against the shelves?’
‘Yeah...’ Welcoming Gene’s direction, Sam melted impossibly closer, almost too close to make their mutual hand jobs manageable in the narrow space between them. ‘I held onto the shelves... face pushed so close I could read every title...’ One of his hands reached around Gene, gripped one of the shelves digging into his shoulder. ‘Couldn’t see what he was doing, but I could feel everything... his breath on the back of my neck, his fingers inside me...’
Gene growled, felt Sam’s cock slide tantalizingly close to his own, and snatched his hand out of the way in favour of grabbing Sam’s arse with both hands, using the added leverage to grind their erections together. ‘You filthy boy...’ he rasped, mouth covering Sam’s ear. ‘Did he take you gentle, or did he give that sweet virgin arse of yours the reaming it deserved for being such an easy little tart?’
A faint whimper escaped Sam’s panting lips, his limbs scrambling around Gene’s body to grip the shelves with both hands. He widened his stance, propped one booted foot on a lower shelf in a move that pushed his cock harder against Gene’s and sent books shifting and sliding to the floor. ‘He... he tried to be gentle, pushed in so slow... too slow... felt every fucking inch pushing into me...’
‘Such a tight arse you’ve got...’ Gene adjusted his grip, fingers digging into the cleft between Sam’s buttocks through loosened denim. ‘Still so bloody tight...’
‘Couldn’t stop making noise... it was too much...’ Sam’s lips mapped Gene’s face, neck, ear, licking and biting distractedly as though seeking the control he hadn’t had back then. ‘Was getting too loud... he slapped his hand over my mouth to keep me quiet... just like you do in Lost and Found when we... oh, fuck, Gene...’
Sam sucked in a sharp breath, hips slamming forward with enough force that the steel edges of the shelves bit into Gene’s back, a faint echo of sensation compared to the sight and sound and smell of Sam coming messy and wet all over his groin. The slick flood between them eased Gene into his own orgasm, his cock throbbing hard against Sam’s barely-bare hipbone, his harsh groan muffled by a bite to Sam’s shoulder. He felt Sam shudder beneath his teeth, clinging soothingly before he exhaled like a breath held for years and slowly climbed his way down from the shelves and Gene’s body.
‘Thanks,’ he murmured shyly. His evasive amber eyes had a shadow of awkward uncertainty that made Gene frown in post-orgasmic confusion.
‘Since when do you thank me for shooting my load all over your shirt?’
Sam glanced down at the tail of his striped shirt, his reddened mouth twisting unpleasantly at the stains there. ‘Never mind,’ he said, hastily fastening his trousers with downcast eyes. Gene watched him swipe distastefully at his shirt, grimace, and otherwise pick over his clothing until Sam finally flicked his gaze back upward again. Eyes narrowed, Gene held his stare. Finally, Sam softened with a sigh.
‘I needed that,’ he admitted, still saying nothing. ‘And I know it’s weird and kinda risky and we’ve got a dead body a few stacks over, but...’
‘I enjoyed it, too, y’know.’ Gene shrugged off Sam’s feeble explanation, settled for tugging up his own trousers. Whatever Sam’s mad reasons were, he didn’t need to know. ‘Only wish I’d had you here first,’ he half-smirked.
Sam’s answering smile was both brilliant and secretive. ‘You did.’
Author: severinne
Pairing: Sam/Gene
Rating: Brown Cortina for the smut
Word Count: 1642
Summary: Sam isn't sure why murders keep happening in places of personal significance. But damned if he isn't going to take advantage of this one.
Author's Note: Written as utterly unplanned birthday!fic for amproof, who shares my philosophical outlook on birthdays in general but really wanted to see some library smut on her special day. Hope it does the job, and that you have (had?) a fabulous day!
ETA: Despite my diminishing sense of time, I've just realized that this also qualifies as Porntober fic. *g*
Gene did not consider himself the sort of man who let himself be dragged about by anyone; it was only surprise that had given Sam the opportunity to grab him by the arm and steer him forcefully from away from the crime scene, around the high library shelving and into the next aisle of books. ‘Where the hell are we going, you daft nonce?’ he barked.
‘Shh,’ Sam admonished, distracted by his squinting study of the shelves. ‘It know it’s here somewhere... Battle of Britain... yes.’
Gene opened his mouth to demand an explanation for Sam’s complete lack of one, and nearly choked when he found his question blocked by Sam’s overeager mouth, his agile tongue slipping quick past his lips. Momentarily stunned, he allowed himself to be shoved into the shelves by demanding hands and rolling hips that revealed exactly how hard and ready Sam was before sense and shock took over. Hands that had instinctively grabbed Sam’s arse clawed up to his shoulders to push his squirming DI back to a safe distance.
‘Are you insane?’ he hissed breathlessly, eyes frantically scanning the long aisle even though he knew plod had cordoned off half the stacks on this floor and forensics had already gone home to their gay-boy laboratories. ‘Who am I kidding, of course you’re insane, and believe you me, I’m willing to put up with all sorts of your gibbering nonsense but so help me, if you’re getting all hot and bothered over that dead bloke, we might have a bit of a problem on our-’
‘Gene.’ The slippery bastard cut him off with fingers pressed to his mouth, with his body pressing close again while he had been distracted by his own rising panic. ‘Gene, no, it’s not...’ Sam shook his head, huffed the sort of privately amused laugh that did nothing to soothe Gene’s nerves. ‘It’s just... right here, I remember all the books on this shelf while we were...’ He shifted his hand from Gene’s mouth, past his head to stroke the spines of densely packed history books. ‘Battle of Britain,’ he repeated enigmatically. Inexplicably, Sam was gently thrusting against his thigh again, causing Gene to shudder with both arousal and disgust.
‘We’re not having it off over the bloody Luftwaffe either, you filthy pervert.’
‘No, we’re not,’ Sam agreed, drawing back to fix Gene with an intent stare that made his heart stop. ‘But we are standing on the exact spot where I lost my virginity.’
Gene swallowed hard with a hollow click. Even with his mind stalled by sudden and lurid images, he felt pieces of understanding fall into place around the puzzle of Sam’s reaction on first scanning the crime scene, the way that delicious but inexplicable blush had bloomed in his face, the soft curse that had slipped from his lips. For a moment there, Gene had worried that Sam was having another of his odd turns, the sort that had set him rambling on about kitchens and flats during that trouble at the textile mill, but maybe this reaction was more natural and sane. And more than a bit of a turn-on.
‘Is that so, Gladys?’ Gene glanced sideways down the long aisle of books, assessing the scene and checking one last time for on-lookers. ‘Figures you’d be just the sort of ponce to have his first tumble in the sodding central library. Who was the lucky bird in this aisle then, Amelia bloody Earhart?’
A wry smirk pulled at Sam’s lips. ‘Paul Gibson.’
Heat crashed through Gene, slammed straight into his dick. ‘Fuck.’
‘Mm-hmn.’ Sam’s clever hands danced familiarly over his belt and flies, taking advantage of Gene’s temporary paralysis to wrap a steady hand around Gene’s flushed erection. ‘I’d fooled around with a few girls, sure, but they were all decent and good and not the sort to let me go further than downstairs outside. Paul, on the other hand...’ He stroked once, slowly, drawing a deep groan from Gene’s throat. Propriety forgotten, Gene fumbled his own less steady hands into Sam’s tight trousers, purring with satisfaction as his palm slid over the hard press of Sam’s cock through the thin cotton of his y-fronts.
‘Tell me,’ Gene demanded hoarsely, rubbing slowly over heated hardness. ‘Want to know every dirty little thing you did here, what it was like...’
‘Just like this...’ Sam pushed into his hand, eyes drifting closed. ‘He touched me first, just like this... I was so nervous, even though we’d come all the way down here because it was so quiet...’
‘Didn’t stop you though, did it?’ Hand moving faster over Sam’s bulging cock, Gene dipped his head into his long throat, licking and biting up to his ear. ‘You dirty little thing.’
‘Wanted to impress him.’ Sam tipped his head back, allowing Gene to mouth his way down to the open collar of his shirt. ‘Paul was a bit older than me, already in uniform... he was helping me get through Academy coursework, that’s why we were here...’
A dark suspicion cut sharply through Gene’s arousal, made his lips pause over Sam’s collarbone. Though he hated to ask, with Sam hot and writhing against him, he couldn’t continue without knowing. ‘He didn’t... Sammy, this bloke, he wasn’t making you...’
‘What?’ Sam’s head dropped down, then shook rigorously side to side. ‘Oh, no, not... no, Gene, it wasn’t like that,’ he answered firmly. ‘I wanted it... wanted it so much, Paul was gorgeous, incredibly fit... and the things he could do with his - ah...’ Sam shivered and arched harder into Gene’s body, his reminiscences cut off by Gene’s thumb rolling slow and smooth over the damp crown of his dick. Eyes narrowed, Gene repeated the motion, his worries now doused by a jealousy that made him long to see Sam come undone under his hands, though his hunger for Sam’s words remained.
‘Did he fuck you, Sam?’ he asked darkly, drawing him closer with a hand clenched hard on his arse. ‘Right here, up against the shelves?’
‘Yeah...’ Welcoming Gene’s direction, Sam melted impossibly closer, almost too close to make their mutual hand jobs manageable in the narrow space between them. ‘I held onto the shelves... face pushed so close I could read every title...’ One of his hands reached around Gene, gripped one of the shelves digging into his shoulder. ‘Couldn’t see what he was doing, but I could feel everything... his breath on the back of my neck, his fingers inside me...’
Gene growled, felt Sam’s cock slide tantalizingly close to his own, and snatched his hand out of the way in favour of grabbing Sam’s arse with both hands, using the added leverage to grind their erections together. ‘You filthy boy...’ he rasped, mouth covering Sam’s ear. ‘Did he take you gentle, or did he give that sweet virgin arse of yours the reaming it deserved for being such an easy little tart?’
A faint whimper escaped Sam’s panting lips, his limbs scrambling around Gene’s body to grip the shelves with both hands. He widened his stance, propped one booted foot on a lower shelf in a move that pushed his cock harder against Gene’s and sent books shifting and sliding to the floor. ‘He... he tried to be gentle, pushed in so slow... too slow... felt every fucking inch pushing into me...’
‘Such a tight arse you’ve got...’ Gene adjusted his grip, fingers digging into the cleft between Sam’s buttocks through loosened denim. ‘Still so bloody tight...’
‘Couldn’t stop making noise... it was too much...’ Sam’s lips mapped Gene’s face, neck, ear, licking and biting distractedly as though seeking the control he hadn’t had back then. ‘Was getting too loud... he slapped his hand over my mouth to keep me quiet... just like you do in Lost and Found when we... oh, fuck, Gene...’
Sam sucked in a sharp breath, hips slamming forward with enough force that the steel edges of the shelves bit into Gene’s back, a faint echo of sensation compared to the sight and sound and smell of Sam coming messy and wet all over his groin. The slick flood between them eased Gene into his own orgasm, his cock throbbing hard against Sam’s barely-bare hipbone, his harsh groan muffled by a bite to Sam’s shoulder. He felt Sam shudder beneath his teeth, clinging soothingly before he exhaled like a breath held for years and slowly climbed his way down from the shelves and Gene’s body.
‘Thanks,’ he murmured shyly. His evasive amber eyes had a shadow of awkward uncertainty that made Gene frown in post-orgasmic confusion.
‘Since when do you thank me for shooting my load all over your shirt?’
Sam glanced down at the tail of his striped shirt, his reddened mouth twisting unpleasantly at the stains there. ‘Never mind,’ he said, hastily fastening his trousers with downcast eyes. Gene watched him swipe distastefully at his shirt, grimace, and otherwise pick over his clothing until Sam finally flicked his gaze back upward again. Eyes narrowed, Gene held his stare. Finally, Sam softened with a sigh.
‘I needed that,’ he admitted, still saying nothing. ‘And I know it’s weird and kinda risky and we’ve got a dead body a few stacks over, but...’
‘I enjoyed it, too, y’know.’ Gene shrugged off Sam’s feeble explanation, settled for tugging up his own trousers. Whatever Sam’s mad reasons were, he didn’t need to know. ‘Only wish I’d had you here first,’ he half-smirked.
Sam’s answering smile was both brilliant and secretive. ‘You did.’