Favours (1/1)
Pairing: Sam/Gene
Rating: M
Warnings: Slash, explicit, PWP, AU
Disclaimer: LoM owned entirely by BBC/Kudos
Note: Originally published January 2008 on LiveJournal in response to a fantasy challenge

I. Sam

Hunt's favourite game was taunting him. About his honesty, integrity, his badge. He acted like Sam was a kid who didn't know have the first idea how the grown ups played. However, dangerous as he may be, Hunt had a moral code and there were certain things he wouldn't allow in 'his' city. When the man had first approached DI Tyler and offered information to help with the capture of a serial killer, Sam had thought he would graciously accept and in exchange the conversation would stay between them. Hunt had thought he was owed a favour.

It was tastefully but sparsely furnished. Not a room someone lived in. Sam had been blindfolded for the journey and though he knew his city well, Hunt had retraced and woven around so much he was lost by the time they had arrived.

He'd had no time to get his bearings when he found himself backed up against the wall by the murderous bastard. Sam tried to breathe more normally, relax and enjoy the heat coming from Hunt, his expensive aftershave, his sweat and excitement.

A hand suddenly plunged into his jacket. Hunt withdrew his badge and, although he flipped the leather open, his eyes never left Sam's. "Well, Inspector Tyler," he dropped the badge and with the same hand and unbuckled his own belt and them Sam's. "It's time to collect."

Sam found himself quickly and roughly stripped, responding with enthusiasm to his mauling although Hunt stopped him from getting his clothes off. He obviously enjoyed the control of standing fully dressed with Sam naked, arousal obvious. Sam enjoyed it, too, Hunt's open belt rubbed agonisingly against him and he began to want that heat and weight on top of him, rubbing against him harder. He didn't have to wait, suddenly he was looking at the ceiling and then he was being kissed hard and his senses were getting everything they wanted. He was moaning helplessly by the time Hunt pulled back and, putting his weight on his elbow, reached between them to rub and pull at Sam's cock. Sam opened his mouth to try and say he was too close but he could only cry out bringing a flush to Hunt's face and an appreciative murmur. "Jesus...that's the sweetest sound in the world. Like that, Sammy?" There seemed to be little oxygen in the room as Hunt leaned down, licking him, taking him completely in his mouth and then withdrawing. Over and over, his spit allowing the merciless hand to work him to climax with ease.

"On yer knees and elbows," When Sam didn't immediately respond, his lover, stronger for not having just had his orgasm, forcibly turned him. "I mean now, copper." Sam wasn't sure he was happy; the position was submissive in a way he hadn't agreed to.

If he thought he felt humiliation, he found out what the word meant when Hunt whipped off his still dangling belt and deftly tied Sam's wrists to the bars of the bed. Trapped and unable to do anything but wait for his own penetration, he thought the only way it could sting worse would be if he started to get hard again.

Hunt didn't last long after having held himself so rigidly in check in order to get Sam off first, but he left Sam thoroughly fucked nonetheless. Sam hadn't needed to see to know how much Hunt had enjoyed the excellent view Sam's position had given him. He had slowly pushed in and out, watching, feeling himself being milked before finally bracing himself against the bars that held Sam tethered and pounding furiously, roaring his release. He had pulled out as he came, his breathing laboured as he took in the sight of his semen running down the back of Sam's thighs.

Sam pulled off the blindfold, back in the centre of the city. He got out and watched the car pull away, gleaming and silent. His entire salary wouldn't buy that car. Worry settled over him, Hunt had 'associates' who might not like that he was in communication with the police. Sam hoped they wouldn't be finding him somewhere deep and watery one day.

II. Gene

Tyler's favourite game was taunting him. Despite this, Gene worried. If Sam's boss knew he worked with DCI Hunt occasionally, they'd be looking for someone to do a formal ID. Gene didn't understand Tyler, the man didn't seem to be driven by any kind of moral code, rather he just seemed to be in it for the rush. When he first approached Gene it was to offer information that ultimately helped CID catch a serial killer. Gene had thought he would repay the favour by making sure Stephen Warren never got wind of their conversation. Sam had wanted a different kind of favour.

And he had wanted it in Gene's car. That was the deal if Gene wanted it, for sex he got himself a good informant. Gene knew that was true - Warren was dangerously oblivious to Sam's manipulations; Sam could bring him pure gold. Warren's obsession with the boy could lead to trouble further down the line but Gene wasn't going to think about that right now, not with Sam looking at him like that, his already dark eyes dilated with longing. Good actor, Gene told himself sternly.

They had driven far out of the city on Sam's instructions and then Gene climbed into the back with him, making it clear how sorry Sam was going to be if his information turned out to be less than twenty four karat. That brought a slow smile that caused Gene's gut to clench. "I'm doing you a real turn 'ere, mate, more than info. You might sit in the Warren with your Lucy or your Jane on your lap, pretty 'ands rubbing your dick through your trousers but it don't happen for you until you look over at me." Sam's gaze dropped to his mouth and then further to his crotch, feeling like a caress and Gene couldn't deny it was happening now.

Gene had decided, as they were driving, that there would be no kissing. Keep it impersonal. He remembered making that decision as he slid a hand round the back of Sam's neck and pulled him in, licking and biting at his mouth, pushing Sam back into the upholstery. Sam held him off a moment, just long enough to fish the lube out of his back pocket. Gene's breathing faltered at the sight of the tube. He constantly watched Sam at The Warren; he spied on him with clients. Thoughts of Sam getting on his back for criminal scum usually made him want to put a fist through his filing cabinet. Now the images that came to him were firing his blood. He gasped as Sam's experienced hands gently eased his zipper down and freed him. The ache got worse, not better as Sam stroked, stroked and whispered encouragement and kissed softly along his jaw. When he was happy Gene was hard and slick enough, he shimmied out of his jeans and turned, offering Gene everything he thought he'd never have. There was little room but Gene didn't notice his muscles were cramping when he was pressed full length against Sam, inside Sam. Sam was shaking and sweating, groaning with every movement and Gene sped up even though he wanted it to last. He ran his hands over the beautiful, lithe body he was hammering into, finding the hard proof that Sam was actually enjoying Gene's attentions as much as he seemed to be. He fisted and pulled, not teasing, forcing a climax, forcing Sam to shudder as he shot over one of Gene's hands and, turning his head, bit down none too gently on the other. Sam's cries and convulsions ended it for Gene seconds later and it seemed an eternity before the pleasure stopped coursing through him.

He dropped Sam off close to the city centre, enabling him to get back to the Warren quietly. He had laughed and joked, seemed genuinely happy and Gene had to remind himself Sam was sharper and colder than the image he was currently projecting. He had to remind himself again when Sam had said goodbye and casually enquired if Gene knew how good it felt to bottom and had offered to show him. Gene took a long road back to the office to compose himself, and convince himself he could handle Sam Tyler.

END