dorsetgirl

Title: Samarkand

Author: DorsetGirl

Fandom: Life on Mars

Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters or their universe. BBC/Kudos do. I’m not making any money out of this.

Rating: White Cortina

Pairing: Sam/Gene

Word Count:

Summary: The morning after

A/N: I haven’t had much time for anything except RL for the past few weeks, and that is going to be the case for a while yet, but this suddenly wrote itself for me last night. So I’m just taking ten minutes for myself to get it typed up and posted; I hope you like it. I will be back soon, I hope, as I have lots more stories waiting to be finished and tidied up, including several for Survival. Oh - as ever, Gene was in charge and he came out with something very strange, which I offer freely to anyone who wants to raise the bunny. I blame draycevixen - you’ll see why.

Samarkand

Sam sat up with a start and looked over at the big man with the infuriating grin. He shuddered.

“So it wasn’t all a dream, then?” he ventured.

“Got it in one, Sammy,” Gene agreed easily. He smiled again, baring his teeth as Sam rolled out of bed with his hands over his genitals.

“Bit late for that, Gladys, don’t you think?”

Sam straightened up, feeling foolish.

“Not that you’ve got much to hide anyway,” Gene continued.

Sam snorted. “Is this the kind of line you were giving me last night? Just how pissed was I, for God’s sake?”

“More like desperate, I’d say. Seemed grateful enough for the suggestion, anyway.”

Sam closed his eyes. “And that would be...?”

“That seeing as you were drunk, and I was horny, it was a match made in Heaven. Or would be, if you’d only put your pride back where it belonged and admit you wanted me.”

“And did I?” Sam asked, intrigued despite himself.

“Not as such,” Gene admitted. “It was more of a mumble as you moulded your skinny shanks against me and started chewing my lower lip like you hadn’t eaten for a week.”

Sam blushed fiery red. All his fantasies about Gene started with nibbling that delectable pout. And if they’d gone on to enact the rest of the repertoire it was no wonder his knees felt like he’d walked to Samarkand on them.

As if catching his thoughts, Gene moved towards him and touched his hair. “No need to be embarrassed, Sam. I’ve had better, granted, but not since my Uncle Leo took me to the circus when I was fifteen.”

“I am not asking,” Sam said, smiling. “So I let you make free of my body and you took full advantage, is that it?”

“Not quite how I’d have put it, Sam. For someone who’s never been on the receiving end before you certainly know how to drain a man dry.”

Sam turned away, suddenly shy. Then, annoyed with himself for playing the blushing virgin - a bit late for that, he reminded himself - he faced Gene with calm certitude.

“You enjoyed it then. That’s good to know. So what happens now? You are still my senior officer.”

Gene stretched lazily and ran a hand down Sam’s front.

“What happens now, my little Deputy Dawg, is that you hop back in that bed and show me your paces. Last night you kept saying if you weren’t so drunk you’d give me such a shagging I wouldn’t walk straight for a week. So now’s your chance to prove it.”

He strolled past Sam and lowered himself onto the bed, watching Sam closely.

Hoping he wasn’t hallucinating the tiny glint of insecurity in Gene’s eyes, Sam moved to the bed and stroked both hands down Gene’s softly cushioned ribs towards his trousers.

“You’ll be needing these off, then,” he murmured, reaching for Gene’s belt.

~ ~ ~