(no subject)
Author: hambel
Title: It’s A Fair Cop, Guv
Rating: Brown Cortina, for swearing and shagging.
Words: nearly 3200
Pairings: Sam/Gene
Spoilers: None really.
Summary: A bit of fluff, a bit of porn, a lot of Sam and Gene.
Disclaimer: No one belongs to me. I have stolen them from the BBC and Kudos and won’t give them back until Series 3 is commissioned. I am making no money from this whatsoever, just enjoying the freedom of t’internet.
A/N: This is a carry on from 'Of Firefighters and Men', but it can be read as a stand alone. I didn’t plan on doing a sequel when I wrote the first one, but a comment from vadergem21 gave me a new plot bunny to play with. So be warned, I need very little encouragement to write more! Lol. Not beta’d.
It’s A Fair Cop, Guv
Sam pushed past Chris, barely seeing him lounging by the desk, one thing only on his mind. He marched purposefully into Hunt’s office, banging the door shut behind him. Gene was standing by the filing cabinet, drawer open, a manilla folder in his hand. He raised an eyebrow at Sam’s determined expression.
“What’s up, Sammy-boy?”
Sam didn’t break stride as his hands grabbed the DCI’s shirt, pulling him round and slamming him against the filing cabinet. He took a pace forward, one hand reaching behind Gene’s head, fingers gently stroking the back of his neck and the other coming to settle on his waist. Not giving Gene any time to react, he leant his whole body against him and kissed him, tongue sliding through parted lips, sending a wave of desire through both their bodies.
Long, slender fingers expertly undid his tie and pulled it off. Shirt buttons were next to be undone, then Gene suddenly realised that Sam’s hands were all over his naked chest and stomach, lightly scratching and tweaking, while his lips were sucking on Gene’s neck.
He couldn’t stop a small moan escaping. “Sa-am...”
Sam either didn’t hear, or took this as an affirmation to continue. Licking Gene’s ear and burying his nose in his hair, he breathed in a scent of apple shampoo and stale cigarette smoke, peeling Gene’s shirt from his shoulders. His hips were gently moving against the older man’s and he could feel his hardness against his own.
“Sam...” A bit more urgent this time, but still Gene was unable to do anything but let Sam have his way. It felt good, Sam’s hands on his body, tugging at his belt...
“Tyler!”
Sam was surprised when strong hands clamped his wrists and pushed him away from the wall.
“Sam.... we’re at work. At bloody work!” Showing remarkable self-control, the DCI managed to hiss the words out through clenched teeth. “There are people in the next room and you didn’t even lock the friggin’ door!”
His treacherous cock twitched at the sight of his DI, wild-eyed and panting, his own erection clearly visible in the tight jeans he wore.
“If you carry on with that -” he gestured to the wall, “I’ll end up shaggin’ you on the desk at the mercy of any bastard who sees fit to walk in!”
Shrugging his shirt back onto his shoulders, he swallowed and closed his eyes, desperately willing the image of a naked Sam spread-eagled on his desk to go away.
Sam stood, his mouth opening and closing in time with his fists hanging loosely by his sides. He seemed unable to form complete words.
“I ... it’s ... um ...”
Gene’s breathing was ragged and it was only the thought of someone bursting in on them that stopped him from reaching out to grab those hands and pull Sam against him to return some of the passion he’d just been shown.
“It’s just ... oh, shit ... Gene...” he ran his hand over his face distractedly. “Do you have any idea how bloody gorgeous you looked this morning?”
Gene tilted his head, completely thrown. Whatever he was expecting, it wasn’t this. “What?”
“Shit,” Sam repeated, breathing becoming steadier and realising his faux pas in trying to jump his DCI with Manchester’s finest in the next room. He took a step back.
“I’ll just be ... paperwork ... at my desk ... procedures ... has to be ... sorry, Guv ...” he gestured, making no sense at all and swallowing hard, moving towards the door.
Gene had to turn round when the door opened. His shirt was still unbuttoned and he didn’t want anyone to cop an eyeful of his naked, manly chest. Especially that poof, Matthews. More than once, he’d caught him ogling Tyler’s arse just too long for it to have been innocent. Mind you, if ever there was an arse worth ogling, it was Sammy’s...
Shit. His trousers were starting to feel uncomfortable again. Certain that paperwork would banish any lewd thoughts, he wandered over to retrieve the file he’d dropped, doing up his buttons with shaky hands and tucking his shirt back in.
What was it that Sam had said? Gene sat down, pursing his lips, thinking.
“Do you have any idea how bloody gorgeous you looked this morning,” he muttered.
There was a noise like a yelp. “G-guv?”
Chris had appeared out of nowhere and was standing still in the middle of the room, holding yet another file in his hands - Jeez, what was it with his team and paperwork all of a sudden? - not sure whether he’d heard correctly and not really wanting to get nearer to the Guv to find out.
“For Chri’sake, Skelton, don’t go creepin’ about like that!” he barked. “What do yer want?”
“Erm ... witness statement from the bartender... you asked for it ... Guv.”
“Well, seeing as I don’t have x-ray bloody vision like Clark soddin’ Kent, I can’t see it from here, can I?”
“S-sorry, guv.” He moved closer. “Here y’are.”
Gene nodded his acceptance, which indicated Skelton could bloody well sod off. Chris hesitated.
“Erm... Guv”
He looked up. “What?” he barked.
“Er ... did you know? Your buttons are done up the wrong way ... on your shirt, Guv.”
Shit. Bugger. “Of course I did. It’s ...”
Bollocks. What crap would Tyler spout? “It’s a team-building exercise, Skelton, to see how observant the team are, individually and together...” He winced. Did he really just say that? Tyler must be rubbing off on him. Speaking of rubbing off ....no! Job in hand, Hunt, not todger, he remonstrated with himself before continuing, “...and I’m pleased to say you’ve passed. That means you get the pleasure of buying the first round in the pub tonight.”
“Oh, right. Cheers, Guv.” Chris brightened up, pleased he had the guv’s approval, and made to go out of the office.
“Just one thing, Skelton.”
He paused. “Guv?”
“Don’t say anythin’ to that bunch of tossers out there. I may be carryin’ out more team-building exercises at any time and I don’t want them tipped the wink.” He tapped the side of his nose, conspiratorially. “Goddit?”
“Yes, Guv.”
“Un-bloody-believable,” Gene muttered, as Chris went out. He knew that within the hour Chris would be telling Ray about the “team-building exercises” and Ray would be telling the rest of CID about the poncey shite that Tyler was filling the Guv’s head with. But that was ok. It would cover his arse if anyone stumbled in on them and caught Tyler with his lips round his..... no, it probably wouldn’t cover that! He grinned. If cocksucking was part of a team-building exercise (and he was pretty sure that it would never be, no matter what Sam said they got up to in Hyde), then Sam would be Team Leader - no contest!
Oh God, the trousers were feeling tight again. But what had got into Sam? Not that it was unwelcome - Gene loved it when Sam came onto him; it was usually Gene who made all the first moves and Sammy would willingly follow - but he was usually the reserved one at work, telling Gene to keep his hands off and his lewd suggestions to himself so that he could concentrate on catching the bad guys. Now that they shared a flat together, Sam argued there was no need for a shag in Lost and Found or a quick grope behind the desk when they had all evening and all night to do it in.
Reluctantly, Gene had agreed to that, knowing that Sam was all his after work. So what happened this morning to make Sam break his own rule? They’d been working undercover, finishing off a fraud case. Sam was working as a maintenance man in an office block. Gene had brushed past him, two or three times. His cover was a chauffeur working for one of the big-wigs and he had recording equipment in the car to tape any indiscretions between the executives he ferried to meetings.
He banged his forehead with the palm of his hand. Of course! Chauffeur equals uniform, peaked cap and shiny buttons.
He chuckled and looked through the window at his DI working at his desk. He was hunched over, scribbling away, reading from his notebook, his lips in that adorable pout that he wasn’t aware of doing when he was sulking. Gene knew he was the cause of that sulk. Sam wanted him and he’d rejected him. Well, that’s what Sam’s cock was telling his brain anyway.
Hmmm, if Sam was going to get all horny over a Chauffeur’s uniform, he would surely wet his pants over a uniform of someone in authority. And if Gene was wearing said uniform, then wouldn’t Sam ... bollocks! Trousers again. Come on, Gene, stay in control.
Paperwork forgotten, he put on his jacket, wandered out into the CID room and stood at Sam’s desk. Sam’s eyes copped an eyeful of Gene’s crotch and he looked up, expecting to see his DCI leaning over his desk with a smart-arsed remark about coppers with no self-control, but Gene was standing tall and addressing the room.
“Alright, you bunch of tossers, listen up! Tomorrer’s a brand new day and we can finish the bastard paperwork then. It’s beer o’clock gentlemen and mine’s a pint, whoever’s buyin’ cos it won’t be me.”
He looked down at Sam. “Comin’ Inspector?” he asked.
“Quite possibly, if you keep thrusting your crotch in my face like that,” Sam muttered, grabbing his jacket.
Gene chuckled. Oh, Tyler was so up for it. Gene was going to enjoy this. He followed Sam out of the room, pinching his arse when he got too close.
******************
It was gone nine o’clock and Sam let himself into the flat. “Oi! You bastard!” he called out, struggling to get his key out of the lock. It came out unexpectedly, knocking him against the wall. Irritated, he kicked the door shut and, unsteady on his feet, he forged forward to find the object of his fury.
“Couldn’t you wait fer me, you fuckin’ wanker?” he yelled, looking in each room as he went past. “I only went fer a slash, an’ ...” His arms were flailing as he attempted to take off his jacket and he knocked a picture off the wall. Bending down to pick it up, he lost his balance and landed on his back, wondering when Gene had decided to put ceiling lights on the floor.
“Yer alright, Sam?”
“What do you fuckin’ care?” Sam twisted himself round, freeing himself of his jacket, which was quite a feat considering the amount of alcohol he’d consumed, and looking for the source of the voice. “I had to walk ... all the way home.... cos you went off without me.” Gene could hear the pout in Sam’s voice.
“Where are you?” Sam asked, standing up gingerly, putting one hand on the wall to steady himself and the other on his forehead. “Can’t you make the flat stop spinnin’? I’m gettin’ an ’eadache.”
“I’m in the livin’ room, yer tosser. Get yer scrawny arse in ’ere!”
Sam raised his eyebrows in surprise. Ooh, Gene sounded all masterful. He giggled. Maybe he was going to show Sam who was in charge. Yes, that was it ... he’d left Sam to walk home so that Sam would be all meek and contrite, and tell Gene he was sorry, so that Gene could lord it over him. He snorted. Bugger that. He’d only got to get his hand in Gene’s pants and Gene would be ripping his clothes off to get at bare flesh and give him a good seeing-to. Feeling his cock getting interested at the prospect, Sam plastered what he thought was an alluring smile on his face, but actually came across as a soppy grin, and staggered into the living room for the aforementioned seeing-to.
He stopped when he saw Gene, his arms crossed, standing a little self-consciously in the middle of the room.
“Wha’...?” He blinked, trying to focus.
Gene was wearing a Police Constable’s uniform. It was different to the one that Sam had worn as a bobby - uniforms are bound to change in twenty or so years. It was a bit crumpled, a little tight around the midriff, but it was dark blue and had shiny buttons and was definitely a Police Constable’s uniform.
Fuck.
His lips had gone dry and his legs didn’t seem to want to support his body any more. He leant against the sofa.
“Shit. You ... you been demoted, Genie?” All rational thought had gone out of his head, but even as he said it, his cock was twitching and his hands were itching to undo those shiny buttons and slide his hands -
Gene snorted. “Don’t be a twat, Tyler.”
Sam giggled. “Twat Tyler. Tyler twat,” he repeated in a sing-song voice, falling into the sofa, as his legs finally gave way. “So ... you’re still a DCI, then.”
“Course I am, tosser. Your DCI.”
Noting the emphasis on Your, Sam leant forward and whispered loudly, “But ... you’re in uniform, G-guv.” He hiccoughed and tried to stand, but fell down again, missing the sofa and landing arse-first on the floor.
He looked surprised. “Who moved ... bloody couch?”
Gene rolled his eyes. For Christ’s sake. You try something different to spice up your love life - not that it needed anything different, mind you, but it didn’t hurt once in a while - and what happens? He gets plastered and his limbs go all floppy. Floppy limbs are no sodding good when you want a good shag.
“C’mon Sammy.” He uncrossed his arms and offered his hand. “Let’s get you ter bed.”
Sam dissolved into giggles at this. “Are you ’resting me, off’cer?” He ignored Gene’s proffered hand and ran his hand up the inside of Gene’s leg, reaching his thigh. Grabbing hold of the belt on Gene’s jacket with his other hand, he hauled himself to his feet, leaving his hand resting near Gene’s crotch.
Gene looked at him with twinkling eyes. “I could ’ave you for assault on a police officer, runnin’ your ’and up me thigh like that,” he said, kissing Sam’s forehead and slipping an arm around his waist.
“You can ’ave me any time you like, copper,” Sam murmured, lifting his head to kiss Gene full on the lips and moving his hand to stroke the bulge in Gene’s trousers.
Gene’s answering moan sent vibrations through Sam’s yearning body. Taking his hand away but replacing it with his hips before Gene could protest, he then got to work on Gene’s jacket. First the belt, then the buttons. Round, shiny buttons that Sam lovingly undone while his tongue entwined itself with Gene’s. He pushed the jacket off Gene’s shoulders and it fell to the floor.
“I thought,” said Gene when they both came up for air, “that you liked to see men in uniform.”
“Oh yeah,” grinned Sam, his fingers working on Gene’s shirt buttons. “But that’s second best to seeing you naked.” He pulled his shirt open and kissed all the way from stomach to neck. “And on top of me,” he whispered breathily into Gene’s ear.
A thought struck Sam as Gene was undoing his shirt buttons with the same speed that Sam had.
“Gene.”
“Mmmm, busy right now.”
“Yeah, don’t stop, but... don’t think I don’t appreciate it, cos I do, really, but...”
Gene was listening, but there were too many don’ts in the sentence for him to make sense of it. He was kissing Sam’s neck and chest.
“Gene. Why did you put yer old uniform on?”
Gene stopped. “For you, yer pratt because yer like uniforms. You told me.”
Sam’s beaming smile made Gene catch his breath and he carried on giving pleasure by kissing and licking his flat stomach and -
Sam drew in a sharp breath. Gene was holding on to Sam’s buttocks and was kissing the front of his denim-clad crotch and it felt good, oh so good.
“Ohhhhh .... s’good, Gene,” he moaned. “Hang on, me legs are goin’.”
“Goin’ where?” Gene wondered, but found out when Sam collapsed onto the sofa. He giggled. “I can’t stand up when you do that to me when I’m sober, let alone half-cut,” he admonished Gene.
Looking appreciatively at the erection in Sam’s trousers so clearly visible, Gene licked his lips. “Yer can’t be that pissed, Sammy.”
Sam looked into Gene’s hypnotising green eyes. “I could be paralytic and still get a raging hard-on if I’m near you,” he said, simply.
Gene felt that familiar feeling at the pit of his stomach. Lust, desire, yearning, call it what you will, it spread through his body down to his toes and up to the backs of his eyes firing every part of his body in between.
He held Sam’s gaze, seeing the same longing in his warm, hazel eyes. Wordlessly, he climbed onto the couch atop Sam, pushing him backwards. Six feet of partly uniformed police officer descended on Sam and he let out a wanton moan of desire.
The two men thrust their hips together, hands all over each other, kissing, sucking, biting, fingers teasing through hair, naked chests rubbing together. God that felt good, even through four layers of clothing, each could feel the other’s hard cock, sliding against his own and they were both beginning to lose control.
Sam went first. “Oh shit, Gene ... I’m gonna come ...” he moaned, arching his back, his thrusts becoming more urgent. He clawed at Gene’s back, at his arse, trying to get as close to his man as he possibly could.
Hearing Sam’s moans, feeling the wetness of his trousers over his own stiff cock as he came in his pants pushed Gene over the edge. “Bloody ’ell, Sam .... me too.” He felt the tightness in his balls as his cock exploded and the world stopped turning for a while.
Coming back down to earth, Gene complained, “I’m gonna have to take these trousers to the dry cleaners, you know.”
“So?”
“What if they ask what I spilt on them? I can’t say me own cum, can I? Not on a copper’s uniform.”
Sam laughed. This was his favourite time, lying with Gene after making love and nothing could spoil it. “Stop being such a girl, Hunt,” he said, kissing him to take away any sting his words might have.
“Piss off, Tyler,” he replied, without animosity.
The coppers lay together, no sense of urgency, each just enjoying being with the other. Gene was smoking his usual post-coital ciggie. Sam was pondering whether he should go and rustle up some food, or whether they should go straight to bed.
“Gene. You didn’t show me your helmet.”
He said nothing, just blew out smoke, and raised his eyebrows.
“Is it a big one?” He looked at Gene with innocent eyes.
“You’ve got yer ’and on me arse again, Tyler!”
*****************