New boots and panties by fawsley, Sam/Gene, brown cortina
Title: New boots and panties
Author: fawsley
Characters: Sam/Gene
Rating: brown cortina
Warnings mild kink
Word Count: 608
Disclaimer: All the property of BBC and Kudos
Note: This started out life as being written for totallywow's gift for the Armed Bastards Exchange on martianholiday but didn't work out at the time. But I promised I'd knock it into some sort of shape so here it is. It also goes out to hambelandjemima who has been most patient, though this isn't quite what I inteded for her either. *sigh* Written at work so sing out when you spot any typos etc. It's not exactly the paper on thesaurus reconstruction they think I'm working on...
New boots and panties
‘Ok? Happy?’
‘You bloody well know that I'm not, Tyler.’
Gene is thoroughly uncomfortable and totally out of place, almost but not quite hoping that Sam will call a stop to it all right then and there.
‘But I’m a man of me word, and me word was that I’d do this for yer and I always keep me promises.’
‘Sure?’
‘As I’ll ever be. So just get on with it and cough up Tyler, ok?.’
‘Black leather… Looks great on you, you know that?’
‘Just shut up and do what yer have to do. All right?’
*´¨)
¸.•´¸.•*´¨) ¸.•*¨)
(¸.•´ (¸.•´
Gene sinks even further down into his car seat, turns his coat collar up as high as it'll go. Tyler's been gone twenty minutes already and that's far too bloody long.
Typical that his nancy-boy poofter of a DI would lead him to this place. There was Gene thinking he knew his city inside out, but this particular alley off a dead-end side street somewhere near Canal Street is a new one. There's a bit of him that's dead annoyed about that, but then again if he had known then, well, that would give rise to questions about how and when and why that he'd really rather not have to answer, even to himself.
No way was he going in there himself, even if he is paying. Despite the shades that make him anonymous to the world it's a risk he's not prepared to take. It's more Tyler's sort of ground, though Christ he doesn't really want to go with that particular line of reasoning. Sam'll fit in, blend in, do what he has to do and go, never recognised, instantly forgotten.
He'd just bloody well better hurry up about it.
*´¨)
¸.•´¸.•*´¨) ¸.•*¨)
(¸.•´ (¸.•´
Gene taps his knee and glares meaningfully. He knew it was going to be worth it in the end but, God, didn't realise it would be this good.
Sam smiles, folds himself gracefully to the floor then with a small groan of contentment arranges himself in a suitable position across Gene's lap. It's surely no accident that one hand comes to rest upon the black leather of a brand new and very smart example of Dr. Marten's air-cushioned best.
If this is the sort of bargain Gene can strike then he'll go in for it on a regular basis. The sight of Tyler clad in nothing but chaps, cock and arse fully exposed, should surely be considered a contender for one of the wonders of the world.
It's such a beautiful arse, round and pert, just asking for Gene to stroke those oh-so-tempting cheeks, one then the other, massaging tight muscles until Sam moans and shifts in an attempt to find friction for the hardness pressing into Gene's thigh.
Gene pauses, hand teasingly light and still.
'Please...'
'Please what, Tyler?'
'Please...'
'Beg for it.'
'Please Gene, please... Need it... Need you... Need you to...'
'What d'yer need me to do, Tyler? Spell it out.'
'Please Guv, need you to, to... govern me...'
*´¨)
¸.•´¸.•*´¨) ¸.•*¨)
(¸.•´ (¸.•´
Nothing quite so hypnotic as the sound of a firm leather-gloved palm falling hard upon willing naked flesh, perfectly punctuated by gasps and moans and sweet, sweet pleading. Handprints flush pink, merge, lose form until Sam's buttocks are one gorgeous scarlet abstract work of art.
Gene feels the body beneath him tense, go rigid, then arch into orgasm. Not something either of them had expected from this but certainly not unwelcome. Gene's panting like he's run a marathon, Sam's making an odd burbling noise which might have something to do with his being pretty much upsidedown right now.
Gene soothes hot flesh with gentle touches, feels seeping wetness upon his leg, leans down to growl meanace into Sam's ear.
'Get any of yer goo on me nice new shoes and I'll bloody murder yer, Tyler.'
Author: fawsley
Characters: Sam/Gene
Rating: brown cortina
Warnings mild kink
Word Count: 608
Disclaimer: All the property of BBC and Kudos
Note: This started out life as being written for totallywow's gift for the Armed Bastards Exchange on martianholiday but didn't work out at the time. But I promised I'd knock it into some sort of shape so here it is. It also goes out to hambelandjemima who has been most patient, though this isn't quite what I inteded for her either. *sigh* Written at work so sing out when you spot any typos etc. It's not exactly the paper on thesaurus reconstruction they think I'm working on...
New boots and panties
‘Ok? Happy?’
‘You bloody well know that I'm not, Tyler.’
Gene is thoroughly uncomfortable and totally out of place, almost but not quite hoping that Sam will call a stop to it all right then and there.
‘But I’m a man of me word, and me word was that I’d do this for yer and I always keep me promises.’
‘Sure?’
‘As I’ll ever be. So just get on with it and cough up Tyler, ok?.’
‘Black leather… Looks great on you, you know that?’
‘Just shut up and do what yer have to do. All right?’
*´¨)
¸.•´¸.•*´¨) ¸.•*¨)
(¸.•´ (¸.•´
Gene sinks even further down into his car seat, turns his coat collar up as high as it'll go. Tyler's been gone twenty minutes already and that's far too bloody long.
Typical that his nancy-boy poofter of a DI would lead him to this place. There was Gene thinking he knew his city inside out, but this particular alley off a dead-end side street somewhere near Canal Street is a new one. There's a bit of him that's dead annoyed about that, but then again if he had known then, well, that would give rise to questions about how and when and why that he'd really rather not have to answer, even to himself.
No way was he going in there himself, even if he is paying. Despite the shades that make him anonymous to the world it's a risk he's not prepared to take. It's more Tyler's sort of ground, though Christ he doesn't really want to go with that particular line of reasoning. Sam'll fit in, blend in, do what he has to do and go, never recognised, instantly forgotten.
He'd just bloody well better hurry up about it.
*´¨)
¸.•´¸.•*´¨) ¸.•*¨)
(¸.•´ (¸.•´
Gene taps his knee and glares meaningfully. He knew it was going to be worth it in the end but, God, didn't realise it would be this good.
Sam smiles, folds himself gracefully to the floor then with a small groan of contentment arranges himself in a suitable position across Gene's lap. It's surely no accident that one hand comes to rest upon the black leather of a brand new and very smart example of Dr. Marten's air-cushioned best.
If this is the sort of bargain Gene can strike then he'll go in for it on a regular basis. The sight of Tyler clad in nothing but chaps, cock and arse fully exposed, should surely be considered a contender for one of the wonders of the world.
It's such a beautiful arse, round and pert, just asking for Gene to stroke those oh-so-tempting cheeks, one then the other, massaging tight muscles until Sam moans and shifts in an attempt to find friction for the hardness pressing into Gene's thigh.
Gene pauses, hand teasingly light and still.
'Please...'
'Please what, Tyler?'
'Please...'
'Beg for it.'
'Please Gene, please... Need it... Need you... Need you to...'
'What d'yer need me to do, Tyler? Spell it out.'
'Please Guv, need you to, to... govern me...'
*´¨)
¸.•´¸.•*´¨) ¸.•*¨)
(¸.•´ (¸.•´
Nothing quite so hypnotic as the sound of a firm leather-gloved palm falling hard upon willing naked flesh, perfectly punctuated by gasps and moans and sweet, sweet pleading. Handprints flush pink, merge, lose form until Sam's buttocks are one gorgeous scarlet abstract work of art.
Gene feels the body beneath him tense, go rigid, then arch into orgasm. Not something either of them had expected from this but certainly not unwelcome. Gene's panting like he's run a marathon, Sam's making an odd burbling noise which might have something to do with his being pretty much upsidedown right now.
Gene soothes hot flesh with gentle touches, feels seeping wetness upon his leg, leans down to growl meanace into Sam's ear.
'Get any of yer goo on me nice new shoes and I'll bloody murder yer, Tyler.'