Cut Scene
Title: Cut Scene
Fandom: Life on Mars
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 660 words
Notes: Sam/Gene. A PWP scene cut from 'Everything in its Right Place' so that the fic could maintain its PG-13 rating. It slots into Part 3. You don't really have to have read the other story to read this, though.
"I love you, Sam. Never thought I'd have the courage to say it, but by God, I'm stronger than you are."
Gene doesn't want to put Sam's body through any more wars than it's already been in, but he needs to touch him, so he gently presses his hand to Sam's lower back and leans in for a kiss. Sam doesn't resist. He arches into the movement, defiant, kissing Gene back with vigour.
"I love you," Sam says, like it's a test, then quieter, his eyes staring straight into Gene's, warm and accepting, "I love you."
"Good boy," Gene says, a small mocking smile on his lips. "Because I'm not letting you go."
There's an immobility eerily like resignation in Sam's stance and he nods, once.
Gene is rarely selfish. Everything he does is for his team, his city. He works tirelessly to get the right results for other people. Oh, he'd take the backhanders, but that was more habit than anything else - the obligatory perks of the job - that's why it was so easy to give them up.
But this. He wants this. He needs this. He isn't going to relinquish it. And he knows, as he licks and nips at Sam's collarbone, that it's the best thing for him, for them both. It's still not him being entirely selfish. Sam's miserable here, in this place of grey and blue. But when he's with Gene, his eyes light up; with fury, with humour, with lust. And Sam can cry for his mother all he wants, feel as much guilt, but how would he feel if he and Gene were apart? Because they're partners, they're intertwined, and they may never have expected it, but it's undeniable now.
Gene's careful with Sam, for once, soft and tender. He trails his fingers over Sam's back, to his arse, feather-light touches that are designed to entice. The cotton of Sam's t-shirt is smooth against his skin, the denim rough. Sam radiates warmth. Sam kisses, fast and furious, clutching his free hand into Gene's hair, drawing Gene down until he's crushing his other arm against his chest in an action that must be painful, but Sam doesn't let go.
Everything Gene wants to do to Sam would be sure to cause him pain, but he longs for the connection. He burns to see the look in Sam's eyes as he comes, has to hear the breathy moans and guttural grunts. Gene eases away, finds that he can hardly keep his hands steady as he undoes Sam's belt and pulls down his jeans, freeing an impressive erection. Sam licks his lips in anticipation, a flush creeping across his cheekbones and his hair mussed, as Gene takes him in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the tip of Sam's cock. Sam thrusts forward, then winces, as the sudden movement makes him pull at muscles that still aren't fully healed. Gene makes a calming sound in the back of his throat, sending vibrations that intensify the sensation for Sam and cause him to catch his breath.
Gene knows just how Sam loves this, how he gets off on slow and tantalising teasing, before demanding quick and vicious. He licks the underside of Sam's cock, curves his tongue up and around, his fist at the base. Sam stares down at him, eyes clouded over, lips parted. Gene starts to really move, taking Sam in and pulling off again, each time going deeper. Sam starts to rut into it, constant sounds tumbling out of him like prayer. They increase pace, both of them matching speed and force, synchronised and in rhythm.
Sam's legs look like they're going to buckle, so Gene shifts him, forcibly, onto the sofa, his hand never leaving Sam's cock. Sam grunts, low and throaty. Perspiration films over his skin in a light sheen and he bucks once more, glaring at Gene with insistent dominance. Gene grins, wolfish, angling his hand to the left and going back down to gently kiss, but Sam moans and says something incoherent, and Gene knows that he's got to give Sam the release he craves.
Gene hollows out his cheeks and sucks, hard, pumping with his fist, and Sam comes in his mouth, hot and bitter. Gene looks up into his eyes and revels in it, in the expression, in the emotion.
In that moment, Sam is his. And he's Sam's --- of course he's Sam's, he finds it difficult to be anything else these days, no matter how hard he tries. He holds him, and kisses him, and loves him. And he doesn't care, doesn't give a damn, if he is being selfish in any way, because he deserves to be so once in his life.
Fandom: Life on Mars
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 660 words
Notes: Sam/Gene. A PWP scene cut from 'Everything in its Right Place' so that the fic could maintain its PG-13 rating. It slots into Part 3. You don't really have to have read the other story to read this, though.
"I love you, Sam. Never thought I'd have the courage to say it, but by God, I'm stronger than you are."
Gene doesn't want to put Sam's body through any more wars than it's already been in, but he needs to touch him, so he gently presses his hand to Sam's lower back and leans in for a kiss. Sam doesn't resist. He arches into the movement, defiant, kissing Gene back with vigour.
"I love you," Sam says, like it's a test, then quieter, his eyes staring straight into Gene's, warm and accepting, "I love you."
"Good boy," Gene says, a small mocking smile on his lips. "Because I'm not letting you go."
There's an immobility eerily like resignation in Sam's stance and he nods, once.
Gene is rarely selfish. Everything he does is for his team, his city. He works tirelessly to get the right results for other people. Oh, he'd take the backhanders, but that was more habit than anything else - the obligatory perks of the job - that's why it was so easy to give them up.
But this. He wants this. He needs this. He isn't going to relinquish it. And he knows, as he licks and nips at Sam's collarbone, that it's the best thing for him, for them both. It's still not him being entirely selfish. Sam's miserable here, in this place of grey and blue. But when he's with Gene, his eyes light up; with fury, with humour, with lust. And Sam can cry for his mother all he wants, feel as much guilt, but how would he feel if he and Gene were apart? Because they're partners, they're intertwined, and they may never have expected it, but it's undeniable now.
Gene's careful with Sam, for once, soft and tender. He trails his fingers over Sam's back, to his arse, feather-light touches that are designed to entice. The cotton of Sam's t-shirt is smooth against his skin, the denim rough. Sam radiates warmth. Sam kisses, fast and furious, clutching his free hand into Gene's hair, drawing Gene down until he's crushing his other arm against his chest in an action that must be painful, but Sam doesn't let go.
Everything Gene wants to do to Sam would be sure to cause him pain, but he longs for the connection. He burns to see the look in Sam's eyes as he comes, has to hear the breathy moans and guttural grunts. Gene eases away, finds that he can hardly keep his hands steady as he undoes Sam's belt and pulls down his jeans, freeing an impressive erection. Sam licks his lips in anticipation, a flush creeping across his cheekbones and his hair mussed, as Gene takes him in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the tip of Sam's cock. Sam thrusts forward, then winces, as the sudden movement makes him pull at muscles that still aren't fully healed. Gene makes a calming sound in the back of his throat, sending vibrations that intensify the sensation for Sam and cause him to catch his breath.
Gene knows just how Sam loves this, how he gets off on slow and tantalising teasing, before demanding quick and vicious. He licks the underside of Sam's cock, curves his tongue up and around, his fist at the base. Sam stares down at him, eyes clouded over, lips parted. Gene starts to really move, taking Sam in and pulling off again, each time going deeper. Sam starts to rut into it, constant sounds tumbling out of him like prayer. They increase pace, both of them matching speed and force, synchronised and in rhythm.
Sam's legs look like they're going to buckle, so Gene shifts him, forcibly, onto the sofa, his hand never leaving Sam's cock. Sam grunts, low and throaty. Perspiration films over his skin in a light sheen and he bucks once more, glaring at Gene with insistent dominance. Gene grins, wolfish, angling his hand to the left and going back down to gently kiss, but Sam moans and says something incoherent, and Gene knows that he's got to give Sam the release he craves.
Gene hollows out his cheeks and sucks, hard, pumping with his fist, and Sam comes in his mouth, hot and bitter. Gene looks up into his eyes and revels in it, in the expression, in the emotion.
In that moment, Sam is his. And he's Sam's --- of course he's Sam's, he finds it difficult to be anything else these days, no matter how hard he tries. He holds him, and kisses him, and loves him. And he doesn't care, doesn't give a damn, if he is being selfish in any way, because he deserves to be so once in his life.