because it's cold outside
Title: Preludes, Nocturnes, and other Arrangements
Author: thimpressionist
Fandom: Life On Mars
Rating: Brown Cortina, just to be safe
Pairings: Sam/Annie, Sam/Annie/Gene, Sam/Gene
Warnings: bit of voyeurism.
Kickass beta provided by lozenger8. Feedback and constructive criticism is greatly appreciated
Notes: I read blancafic’s request for a Sam/Annie/Gene fic from Lozenger8 and this was born. Total PWP. There was a plot for this, but it got lost somewhere in Filing. Ask Chris to help you find it.
A due
It starts, as with so many things, with drink. Pints of thick bitter or golden ales to wash away the day. Or perhaps it is the heat;
unseasonably warm weather, and Manchester feels muggy, a constant damp that clings to your skin. Either way it leads to Annie
and Sam snogging in the alley behind the pub; just a bit of fun, away from the prying eyes of every horny bloke from work. Sam is
cupping and stroking her breasts in a manner that makes Annie smile a bit; he does it in an oddly gentlemanly way, even while
drunk. This may be a rather seedy place to be felt up: empty boxes and a faint rotting fruit scent wafting from a nearby tip, but
Annie is enjoying herself. Movement catches her eye, something white. A shoe, she realises; a white loafer. Annie is the sort of
girl who notices shoes, and she’s long admired Gene Hunt’s shoes, he’s quite good at accessorising, for a man. She can faintly
see his outline, his large frame unmistakable. Probably wants a peek at her breasts. But when Gene edges closer, close enough
to suss out his face in the reflected streetlight, Annie realises that Gene’s eyes are fixed on Sam. So much so that Gene doesn’t
even notice Annie looking straight at him. It’s both a shock and a confirmation. She has noticed something between the two, a
friction that didn’t exist with the other coppers at the station. She had dismissed it out of hand; Chris and Ray were close, but
mates-like, partners. And now it’s in plain sight; this thing they refuse to recognize, aggression masking something with the
potential to be far more destructive. How easily Ray has been replaced as Gene’s right hand man. Annie likes Gene, as brash as
he is; he’s a decent man trying to do his job. Gene respects her, in his fashion, and he is a far better man than his supposed
betters.
She kisses Sam again, a seed, a plot, a drunken mad dare forming in her mind. Maybe it is the drink or the heat, or maybe it’s the
thrill of proving herself something more than the innocent they seem to view her as. She teases Sam, flicking her tongue over his
lips and pulling back, flicking again as he follows her, a gentle nip, and she lets him pull her closer. She kisses his neck and finds
a spot that makes him moan softly, arching his neck to give her access. She likes the way he smells: the acrid smells of the pub,
but also soap and the warm scent of man. Annie runs a slim hand down his chest, trailing down to cup the growing erection in his
trousers. He sucks in a breath and arches, pouts at her when she pulls away. How he can look like any horny bloke and sweet,
uptight Sam at the same time is anyone’s guess. Annie slowly eases the two of them towards the boxes, until she can nudge
Sam into setting down on nearby box. He grins up at her, a flash of teeth in the light. Annie gets down on her knees, grateful for
the dry cardboard that’s been piled on the ground. She unbuckles Sam’s belt and unzips his trousers. As she peels down his
trousers to run a finger down his cloth-clad erection, she smiles at the moan it earns her. She relents, enjoying the heat of him in
her hand. Annie licks the tip of Sam’s cock, slowly taking him in. She stokes the base of his cock with one hand, the other
soothing a taut thigh. Annie is surprised how much she enjoys this: how much it turns her on. The sighs and low moans above her,
the taste and heat of him, the thought of Gene watching. Suddenly Sam is bucking, filling her mouth with salty bitterness. Annie
looks up and Sam smiles at her, sweet and easy. Annie rises and takes his hand, suggests Sam come over for a cuppa. Which is
when Gene steps out of the shadows, innocent; he is surprisingly quiet for such a big man. It feel natural to play along, ever so
easy to invite Gene along.
"Folk medicine says it’s hot tea you should drink on a day like this, to cool you off," Annie says sweetly. "The opposite of what
you’d expect, isn’t it?" Sam looks surprised but not unhappy.
ripieno
They never get to brewing up tea. Instead Annie takes out the iced tea that’s been cooling all day from the icebox. Sam takes a
long drink, clearly enjoying the honeyed-tannic tang of homemade iced tea. He teases Annie, and they laugh, brushing up against
each other because they can. There’s an electrical storm brewing, they can smell it: that particular stillness and scent. The clink
of ice seems to set Sam’s mind to work. He takes another drink and kisses Annie, transferring the cool liquid to her mouth. He
kisses cool lines down her throat, unbuttoning her blouse. She helps him slip her out of her bra, and she’s dimly aware of the noise
Gene makes at the sight of her bare breasts. Sam kisses down her chest, taking a nipple in his warming mouth. She gasps at the
contrast of his hot tongue on her nipple and the cube of ice he is circling around the other hard peak. Sam pulls back to pour a bit
of the sugary liquid on her breasts and bends his head to lap it up, following the drops down her stomach, strokes her thighs. Cool
kisses on her stomach. She gasps a little at his cool fingers under her skirt, spreading her thighs. He is kneeling before her, and
surely he’s isn’t going to, oh, but he is, and oh, ohh. The contrast of his warm mouth and that melting bit of ice; he’s lapping and
sucking, slicking his tongue inside of her. Annie is sighing and trying not to clutch at his head, arching into his mouth. She must
be making noises, because Gene is suddenly standing over her, no longer content to merely watch. He kisses her, gentler than
she would have expected, if she had ever expected to kiss Gene Hunt. Annie is deliciously lost; a warming tongue on that hot little
nub between her legs, and Gene’s tongue slipping into her mouth, his big hands stroking her breasts. She bucks at the feel of
Sam’s long fingers sliding into to her: and then she is shuddering, her throat taut, small noises escaping her, as her body
convulses and clutches at his fingers. Annie pants and leans back into Gene, who kisses the back of her neck and strokes a hand
up her bare spine. Sam looks like a cat that’s just finished a bowl of cream, and he smiles lazily up at Gene. Gene pulls Annie to
him, kissing her again. He pulls her towards her bedroom, her flat is tiny and there’s only one other room besides. Gene moves
carefully, his hard cock defined through his trousers. He traces his big hands over her breasts. Sam presses up against her back,
kissing her neck, stroking her spine. Gene looks at him, but remains quiet.
mobile
Gene is remarkably fast at getting out of his kit; he’s naked and kissing Annie while Sam is still working on getting out of his
trousers. Sam joins them on Annie’s bed, relishing the feel of skin damp with sweat and lingering sugar-tea. Annie is astride Gene,
so Sam moulds himself against her back, kissing her shoulders, licking and nipping up the shell of an ear, mapping out her
smooth skin. She turns and kisses him deeply, lightly sucking on his tongue, and then turns and does the same to Gene. Letting
them taste each other. Through her they find permission, the chance to look and touch. Gene’s blue eyes are shifting back and
forth between them, his expression somewhere between shocked and titillated. Gene shifts to lie on top of Annie, resting most of
his weight on his arms, his frame encompasses her. Sam memorises the sight of them together, the sound Annie makes as Gene
enters her. He isn’t content to watch; he stokes his hands over hot skin and follows with his tongue, his teeth. They are both
making noise; soft moans from Annie and low grunts from Gene. Sam slips a hand between the couple; letting his knuckles brush
at Gene’s hip and strokes Annie’s tender bud with steady circles. Gene looks up and locks eyes with Sam; his mercurial eyes are
a vivid green-blue. He holds Sam’s gaze, his thrusts growing erratic until he comes, growling out his pleasure. Sam slides into
Annie easily, thrusting slowly. He moans at the sweet slickness of her, relishing her scent, the smoothness of her skin. Sam
glances at Gene, expects to find him passed out. But Gene is watching them; sleepy but with pleasure, he looks like a big cat.
They rock together, kissing and stoking every inch of available skin. Gene joins in, stroking one big hand over a breast, pinching a
nipple and sliding the other down Annie’s belly to stroke between her thighs. Annie’s moans turn into cries, she tenses suddenly,
shaking and shuddering beneath Sam. The feel of her contracting around him is too much for him; he comes, spine arching, throat
exposed. Sam pulls gingerly out of Annie and slumps to the bed, panting. When he recovers enough to look up, Annie is smiling
sleepily up at him, resting her head on Gene’s shoulder. Sam trails his eyes over Gene’s body, is gratified to see his spent cock
twitch under Sam’s gaze. Sam can’t help the grin, but pulls it into something of genuine affection, and he’s about to say something
when he falls asleep.
Wolf tones
Gene is dressing, searching for his pants. He locates them and is pulling on his trousers when he looks up to see Sam’s eyes on
him. Gene looks away, but Sam’s not willing to let this go. The smaller man gets up, glances idly about for his pants and settles
on a sheet. He moves towards Gene, who eyes him warily. It’s different now, that the night has come and gone. It had been a
strange delight to feel Annie’s smooth skin on his. She had kissed him eagerly, sugary tea, lager and something slightly tangy
that he suspected might be Sam. He had kissed back slowly, wanting to draw it out and desperately wanting to be inside of her.
He had sobered watching those two in the alley, the sight of them awakening his drunken body. He had been aware of Sam’s
body, even as he thrust inside of Annie. Gene had known that the mouth licking and nipping at his ear hadn’t been Annie’s, that
the hands on his spine, the back of his neck didn’t always belong to Annie. And watching the two of them shag had got him hard
again; even just after coming minutes before. But that was then and this is too bright morning light and the bitter taste of beer and
regret in his mouth. Suddenly Gene feels much too big for this room, for the company. Gene remembers all too well how easily,
how perfectly their willowy frames had fit together. The silence is getting to both of them; Gene is used to hiding behind noise and
bluster, with a saying for every day of the week. But all Gene can do is stare, wary, because it’s easier than being helpless,
clutching his wrinkled shirt. But Sam surprises him, and allows himself to be vulnerable. He places a hand on Gene’s chest. Gene
can’t think of a thing to say, to bridge this awkwardness. Sam sighs, and starts to pull his hand away, when Gene’s big paw
comes to rest on his cheek. Gene slowly brings their foreheads together. Permission, acceptance.
There isn’t any alcohol to blame, the storm has come and gone. They kiss slowly, hunger curling in. Gene isn’t really certain what
he’s doing, but Sam’s tongue flicking over his lower lip makes him shudder, makes it harder to think than the alcohol had. Sam
opens his mouth, allowing Gene to deepen the kiss. Sam maps out Gene’s broad shoulders, runs a hand through his hair. A
hesitant hand strokes down the small of Gene’s back, the shock of a Sam’s palm cupping his arse does something wild to Gene.
He grabs Sam’s shoulders and shoves him against the wall, kisses him desperately, dragging the sheet from his shoulders. He
has to touch: traces a big hand down Sam’s spine, strokes a palm over a sharp hipbone, licks and nips at Sam’s lips. Sam kisses
him just as fiercely, and Gene moans at the feel of Sam’s long fingers working on his trousers. Sam stutters and arches when
Gene wraps his hand around Sam’s cock. Gene simply grasps his cock for a moment, drawing a whine from Sam. Gene takes a
moment to adjust to strangeness of it, but Sam distracts him by wrapping his fingers around Gene’s hardening cock and slowly
stroking. Sam’s mouth is on his, swallowing his moans. Gene struggles to match Sam’s rhythm, but it feels so good it’s hard to
concentrate. He picks up the pace; strokes Sam’s cock with one hand, the other grips Sam’s shoulder as if he might bolt. Gene’s
world has narrowed down to sensation and white heat and the slick feel of Sam’s cock in his palm. Gene cries out, bellowing out
his pleasure as he comes, pulsing into Sam’s palm. His fist tightens and it brings Sam over; he bucks into Gene’s hand, crying
out.
They slump against the wall, panting. Sam’s hot skin feels good and the scent of sex and sweat prickles Gene’s nose pleasantly.
Even the sticky mess dripping down Gene’s palm and stomach feels good. Gene glances at the bed to see Annie smiling at them.
He supposes he’s never been good at being quiet. They stay that way for a moment, adjusting to the feel of it. It should feel
awkward; instead, the power struggles that inhibit their day to day life seem strangely muted. They have created a strange sort of
harmony, one that should be discordant yet somehow works, all minor keys that somehow fit together.
da capo
Glossary
I couldn’t resist using musical terms because they’re inherently dirty. It is the only profession where you are expected to stroke, blow, or finger your instrument in public.
A Due- a duet that belongs to a larger piece of music
ripieno- Used in a specific type of music that usually has several movements. It is used to signal an orchestra coming in at the same time, usually after a series of solos
mobile- flexible or changeable. Appropriate for Sam, no?
Wolf tones- Wolf tones are notes which sound discordant because of a contradiction between mathematical theory and the physical divisions of the strings. At one time, it was forbidden to play the tones because it was perceived as a form of sin.
da capo- (go back to) from the beginning. I write this with tongue firmly in cheek, I swear.