Fandom: Life on Mars
Word Count: 968 words.
Notes: The Sam/Gene slash companion to "Five Times Gene Footed the Bill". I usually don't do sequels, but I got bitten by the bug. The, "I want to write Sam and Gene shagging" bug. (The amount of PWP I write suggests this bug lives in my bed.) This didn't quite get to the same explicit levels. Title from the Rolling Stones.
Sam sat on the edge of the sofa, doing his level best not to stare at the curve of Gene's arse as he topped up two whisky glasses. Sam had been staying at Gene's house for five days, with another six days looming ahead as repairs were being made to his ceiling.
He had been expecting to want to complain about it constantly. To screw up his nose at the constant Eau de Gene; tobacco, sweat, Old Spice and something he could never exactly pinpoint. To get into frequent fisticuffs and be forever purple, black and blue.
But he wasn't.
What he was was afraid Gene would catch him staring. It was all too easy to stare. He didn't particularly want to analyse why, although a treacherous voice at the back of his mind that sounded uncannily like the object of his observation muttered, "he's a bastardly beautiful specimen of mankind." And Sam knew he was just loopy enough for that to be it.
Not being all that attracted to men before did little to dissuade Sam's hormones that he was attracted now.
The worst part was that Sam was fairly sure he wasn't the only one registering the desire, and the only reason he didn't want it to be too obvious was that he could easily imagine Gene following through on the suggestion it inherently held. Gene had been staring at Sam.
On the one hand, Sam would get lucky. On the other, life as he knew it would get ten times more complicated. And that was with talking televisions and nasty little girls with friendship complexes.
"I was thinking..." Gene said suddenly.
"Most unlike you," Sam interjected, knowing he was being a jerk, but figuring this wasn't much different from normal, and he really needed the distraction.
Gene turned around, ignoring him. "We may as well get it over and done with."
Sam could feel his panic rising. He asked the obvious question and steeled himself for the answer. "Uh? Get what over and done with?"
Gene's expression transformed from faint mockery to full-blown ridicule. "What d'you think I'm gonna say? The Morris dancing? The synchronised show-jumping? You know what I'm talking about."
Sam stopped himself just in time from saying, 'well yes, but I really wish I didn't.' He feigned ignorance instead. Gene stepped forward with a slow, predatory grace that had Sam's heart thumping two times the acceptable speed. Gene's fingers brushed enticingly against Sam's as he offered the whisky and Sam accepted it.
"Look, there's no need to be a wanker, Sam."
Sam downed his whisky and realised there was no escaping the inevitable. "See, when you say that, it just sounds like an invitation."
Sam couldn't help but smirk. "Eloquent as always."
Gene raised an eyebrow. "D'you wanna diddle my dick, or not?"
"No, really, are you always this lyrical, or is it only me who inspires in you such poetry?"
"You're lucky I'm saying anything at all. Most of the time I'd just be right there, fondling your tits."
"Might be a bit hard, that."
Gene nodded, his glass drained. He looked at Sam with startling precision, his focus fixed. "Yeah, so tell me, Sammy-boy. Do you want what I'm so magnanimously offering you, or not? If the answer's no, don't think I'll shove you out the door and throw your clothes in a ditch. Even if I am tempted."
"I..." Sam paused, aware that there could only really be one answer, "of course I do."
"Then stop being a pansy and hop to it."
"Maybe I want you to woo me?"
"Oh, for shit's sake. Okay, alright, I can woo. I can recite that poetry you're so fond of." Gene pulled his shoulders back and cleared his throat.
"There once was a young bloke called Sam,
Who made every day an exam.
When asked to relax he shoved a pole up his jacksie
And no longer gave half a damn."
Sam laughed. "I'm officially persuaded."
Gene leaned down. "I also know one about a plumber, if you want it."
Sam reached up and grabbed hold of the back of Gene's collar. "No, I think that's enough rhyming for now." He kissed Gene, not knowing if that was in the agreement, but going for it anyway. Gene kissed him back with vigour, pushing Sam deeper into the sofa.
It took a surprisingly short time to go from fully clothed to half-naked, limbs entangled and breath coming out in short, sharp bursts. Sam mouthed Gene's neck, one hand threading into his hair. He pushed up into Gene's touch and couldn't at all remember why he had been hesitating and evading this.
"You know, I did it for you," Gene said, mouth by Sam's ear.
Sam stopped moving, frowning. "Did what?"
"Stopped it. The wads of cash. The favours."
Sam adjusted position until he could look into Gene's eyes. He was momentarily blindsided by the raw honesty he saw there. "Thank you."
Gene clouded over again, losing any vestige of being serious. "I'm telling you this so that you feel like you really have to go to town. The whole works, Tyler. I know you've a dozen or two tricks up your sleeve and that tongue of yours could be the eighth wonder of the world."
Sam grinned. "You were gonna get the special anyway."
"Just as well. I've waited all week for this. I thought, what with your flirting, I'd've had you on your front the first night, but you got all coy."
"It's called suspense."
"It's called 'being a great big wuss'."
Sam pressed his fingers along Gene's jaw, tilting his head up. "You know what? Either you shut up and let me buck up, or we spend the whole night chatting. It's your choice."
Gene took the hot and heavy approach and grasped Sam's cock. "Buck up, then."