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Sam refused to go to the pub because he was covered in someone else's bodily fluids, which Gene thought was quite sensible. It was not as if he would let his deputy waltz into Nelson's place covered in the blood of some useless shite crim, anyway, but it was fun to rile Sam up by threatening to do just that. Sam pouted, and his pouts were lethal, so Gene swallowed his intense amusement, growled some pointless threat, and drove to Sam's place. Sam stomped up the stairs and Gene tried not to laugh as he followed him up.
Gene knew Sam kept a bottle on hand for him, so he dumped his jacket on 'his' chair and poured a reasonable amount of cheap whiskey to make up for Sam's pout. He only followed Sam up on the chance to watch him change out, hoping that Sam would be entirely unreasonable and take time for a shower. Naturally, when he wanted the kid to be prissy and picky and fastidious, Sam was a damn whirlwind, stripping off his shirt and vest faster than Gene could get settled to enjoy the view. He knew Sam was a bit annoyed because Gene was not coddling him for that stupid act of misplaced heroism that Sam pulled off earlier – a success due in no small part to Gene's foresight and planning, as Gene was generous enough not to mention.
Gene stood there as he saw the dirty shirts being tossed aside and he looked directly at Sam's naked, smooth, and fairly well muscled chest. The feeling came from nowhere, flooding him, stopping him in his tracks and he did exactly as he was taught to do: stand still, watch, and wait. Sam was younger, much younger, than what he remembered, but the body type was the same. The muscles…the same.
He stared blatantly at Sam as he put on a clean vest and shirt, and watched his fingers carefully as they buttoned up his ugly shirt. Gene watched, helpless, knowing that Sam saw him watching but unable to look him in the face because that was never – never – permitted. It was as if the last ten years did not pass at all, as if he was 32 again and living for the man he could not touch without permission. Ten years of hell, of waiting, of wanting, of knowing what he needed and yet also knowing he would never have it again. As he watched strong, sure fingers at work, Gene remembered, and nearly choked on desperation.
"See something you like?" Sam asked sarcastically, breaking the spell, because He never used that tone with Gene; He always took Gene seriously. Sam, of course, was not that man and only found Gene's attentions annoying. Always had. Always would.
Gene shrugged and finished his drink, still somehow unable to look him in the eye. "You make a production out of everything." He knew he was off kilter and hoped Sam did not notice.
"I could…" He framed it as an almost-question. So, Sam noticed, but did not understand. Gene did not expect him to, and the offer those words contained held minimal attraction to Gene. He could fuck every hard bodied PC in the damn force if he wanted, but that was not what he needed. Finally, Gene looked at him and slammed his drink, angry with himself for letting it get this far.
Sam understood 'no', at least, and turned and tucked in his shirt. Gene was not particularly relieved because he never wanted those feelings to come back at all, they were too hard to tamp down, and if they were slipping out because of Sam, then Gene knew he was in real trouble. He would do something stupid, not here with Sam but somewhere, soon, he would do something stupid and his life would spiral out of control. Just like before, when he was 25, when he nearly destroyed himself as everyone in his family seemed determined to do, until He found Gene. Gene knew he would not be so lucky the second time around.
"I could."
The tone. Gene's blood stopped even as his heart began pounding out of control. Gene focused on the chair, his jacket, anything but Sam but that only made it worse as the feeling poured into him like a drug. Two words and Gene was amped up like a junkie on the tone of Sam's voice. He was in trouble, he had to get out, and he thought to say as much but stopped and instead picked up his coat from the chair and went to put it on.
"Put the coat down."
Gene felt the air sparkling around him, heightened to a level of awareness that was nearly painful to experience. It was the edge of a very thin blade and it all rested on what Gene was willing to do, less than on what either man wanted, and for the life of his soul, Gene honestly did not know how far he was willing to go with Sam.
He stood with one arm into his coat but he did not put it on, and he did not put it down. He did not know what to do and that, in and of itself, was familiar because the not knowing was the precursor to being told. If Sam saw it, if Sam could do it, he would tell him what to do; and if Sam did not or could not, then Gene would put on his coat and leave and God help him, this time it would not end well.
"Put it down."
Gene let the jacket fall.
Gene was staring at the carpet, thinking too much. He could tell Sam did not know what he was doing and he knew he could not tell Sam what to do. He was caught in the middle and Gene shifted on his feet and rolled one shoulder as he stood there, wondering what in the hell he let them in for, feeling guilty and ashamed for everything because for every right choice he made in his life, there was always hell to pay. Sam was taking too long and Gene's humiliation began welling up in him and it was welcome and terrifying, because he deserved it and could not control it, and if Sam did not do something Gene thought he was just going to run flat out the door.
"Turn around."
Slowly, Gene turned his back to Sam, and relief flooded him. This, he could do. He followed Sam's words as they pushed as strong as any hand, forcing him to turn around and make himself vulnerable and yes, God yes, it was right.
"Keep your head down, look at the floor," Sam instructed softly, and placed his hand on Gene's upper neck, right at the base of his skull, and pressed gently. Gene tried to turn his head to the side, just to test Sam, to see if he meant this as much as Gene needed him too. Sam kept the pressure, forcing Gene to put his head where Sam wanted it. When Sam let go and ran his hands over his back, trusting that Gene would stay where he was put, Gene sighed in release, knowing that Sam genuinely understood.
Sam reached around and unbuckled his belt, and pulled it off. Gene stood still but a slight worry went through him, wondering if Sam thought this was about sex. He was verging on panic when he realized that Sam was being careful not to touch him, and when the belt landed the front of them, Gene breathed easy again. He was not quite sure what Sam was saying by that, but it was a message of some kind, and more importantly, it let Gene know that Sam was in control. Inside of that feeling, knowing that someone he trusted was taking care of him completely, Gene felt safe. Oddly, as he thought about it while Sam unbuttoned his shirt and dragged it off of him, Gene realized that he trusted Sam that much. He had to, or he simply would never have let the jacket fall from his hands. Surprised at himself, Gene tipped his head to peer over at the man he unexpectedly gave this power to, but welcomed the touch of Sam gently re-directing his gaze back to the front, to the floor, where it belonged.
"Stay," Sam whispered, nearly cooing as he stepped closer and undid Gene's trousers, again careful not to touch Gene directly. He slipped the pants down and pushed on Gene's left knee to get him to pull his foot up and Gene felt like a damn horse but Sam was steady and sure and Gene knew he could only follow as Sam stripped him. When he was standing in his underwear, barefoot, Sam stepped back and Gene felt his vulnerability like a cold storm through the room. It was a charge and he was teetering on the brink of euphoria, his brain slowly tripping off all the connections as Gene finally, oh thank god finally after ten cold, miserable years, shut down once more.
After a few seconds Sam stepped back up to Gene and wrapped his arms around him, and Gene twitched in surprise at the intimacy.
"No, stay still. Don't move," Sam said, rubbing his face against Gene's shoulder and up to his neck as he hugged him. "You're staying here tonight. You'll be safe here tonight. Don't talk. Just nod."
Gene nodded, once, returning his gaze to the floor, his heart rate taking off under Sam hands. Nodding, no talking – it was so close to what he had before, so very close, and Gene knew those rules. Gene lived those rules for nearly seven years, they were burned into him, and if Sam were not behind him, holding him, Gene might have gone to his knees in release.
"Go take a shower, use hot water and lots of my soap. I want you to smell like me. Clean your hair and your whole body and your dick an' every part of you."
Sam was so sure, so confidant, and so perfect that Gene sucked in air, then tried to collect himself.
"You're safe, here, Gene, I tol' you that."
Another nod. Sam did not know him well enough yet, perhaps thought he scared him. Gene almost smiled.
"And don' wank off in the shower. No getting' off unless I say so. Come back out here naked. And never, ever, look up. Your eyes are on the floor, every step. Yeah?" Sam breathed, holding Gene close for a fierce hug -- something new and different, something uniquely Sam that Gene felt particularly thrilled to discover -- and then released him. "Okay. Go on." Sam touched him as if it was a shove, and Gene walked to the bathroom, his head down, stripping off the last of his clothes and cleaning himself. This part was ritual and he knew how to scrub himself raw and rinse his arse – best that could be done, without an enema, but perhaps Sam did not approve of those. Gene would have to ask, because he was not allowed to assume. Not here. Not now. He turned off the water and stalled, trying to remember what Sam said, because he did not know if he was allowed to dry off. No, Sam did not say he was, and the default was always the negative, so he stepped out dripping and then heard Sam from the other room.
"You can dry off first. Then come out here."
Gene was pleased that Sam figured it out, and for a brief moment he allowed his consciousness to turn back on and hope, of all the damn curses in the world: hope. He walked out, looking at the floor, and stopped in front of Sam, his heart hammering, his breath short. He noticed Sam's erection straining in his pants and wondered if he wanted to be serviced, but Sam seemed to be ignoring it and studying Gene closely instead.
"Set the mattress on the floor and fold up the damn cot. Make the bed for us, Gene." Sam again kept his voice soft and firm and the charge went directly through Gene's brain to his dick.
Gene nodded and turned and did it, because making the bed was something he knew all too well. Making it, fixing it, cleaning it, worshipping it, yes, he knew how to do all of that. He was surprised by the plural, by Sam's implicit acknowledgement that they would sleep together. Was that how it was going to be? Or was Sam going to test him tonight, and that was the reward? Maybe Sam had simply not made up his mind yet. Gene's brain worked in fevered anticipation as he made quick work of a very sad bed, wondering how he could make it better for Sam to lay there. Something, there had to be something, but a quick look around proved nothing. Gene decided that later, he was going to ask permission to buy Sam a better bed. He nodded at himself in pleasure with the thought of making such a gift to his…to Sam. Then he stopped, surprised at himself for thinking there might be a 'later,' that Sam might allow…
"Gene. Over here. Stand between my legs." Sam spread his knees and Gene stepped in. Looking down, his gaze was forced to Sam's groin where obvious signs of Sam's arousal continued to press against his pants. Sam watched the flush creep over Gene's skin and Gene began to feel ashamed but Sam snapped at him forcefully and Gene forgot everything but what he was told to do. "Get on your knees. You won't be on them long, no need for a cushion." Gene lowered himself, hands at his side. "Touch what you want, until I tell you to stop," Sam whispered.
It was a gift. A blessing, a gift of choice, a chance to really show how he felt. Gene did not deserve this, not at all, he had done nothing for this prize and he doubted himself, but thought perhaps this was a small test in and of itself. Then he stopped, realizing Sam ordered him to act, not think, and Gene moved forward quickly before his delay in responding was noticeable.
He moved his hands in hard, heavy motions, running up and down Sam's legs as he stared helplessly at Sam's hard-on. He felt Sam sigh at the touch, feeling the weight of Gene on him, and Gene smiled with the pleasure he was giving. Doing something right, with no price to pay for it, just doing it right and doing it well and Sam was pleased. He moved his hands up to Sam's torso, slipping over his chest, on top of his vest and Gene stole a glance, a naughty glance, up at Sam and saw the bliss on his face, his eyes closed in satisfaction, and Gene finally accepted this. It was exactly everything he dreamed of and while Sam was a surprise, a fantasy come true, it was happening and it was real and Gene felt protected again for the first time ten years. Sam said touch anything until told to stop, he gave no parameters or rules to that, so Gene leaned forward and curled over and laid his head against Sam's chest. He wrapped his arms around him in a hug, feeling almost childlike under Sam's shelter and care, and Sam responded in kind, rubbing his back with one hand and playing with his hair with his other hand. Sam was taking on a role he obviously was not used to having with anyone, and Gene was scared that he might not be able to take it as far as Gene needed it to go, but for now, it was perfect. Gene could not bring himself to move or think for a long time, and when he did, he knew what he wanted. He moved his hands to Sam's front and tugged on the waistband and belt, a silent plea: do not hold yourself away from me. Sam pushed his hands off of him and kept pushing until Gene was sitting back on his heels. Gene was not even worried, because Sam's moves were sure and certain, and he understood that Sam knew what he was doing.
"Close your eyes."
Gene shut his eyes and breathed deeply. He knew this too, but it had been so long, and he felt his own hard on raging as he tried to keep from groaning in pleasure. This was his reward, he passed the test, and now he was sinking in the bliss of giving everything he had to Him. He felt Sam moving and heard the pants being undone and then he felt Sam grasping the back of his head with one hand, his shoulder with the other, and dragging him down carefully. Gene did not even twitch, he let himself be led to Sam's cock, and when he felt the soft, velvet touch of the head against his lips, opened his mouth and took Sam into him, grateful to be allowed this much.
Gene pulled on him, drawing his cock in and out of his mouth, sucking and licking as Sam rode him, and Gene was delirious with joy. He was deemed good enough to deserve this right, and he was going to prove that He was not wrong in permitting Gene to do this to Him. Sam's hands were on his head and his shoulder, they had not moved, but there was no pressure as Gene lifted and sank back down, his own hands on his thighs, holding himself up as he serviced Sam. He took it as Sam lost control, shoving Gene's head down to choking on him, filling Gene with his cock and his cum, his hips snapping mercilessly as he moaned in release.
Sam paused a moment then held Gene's head up by grabbing his long blond hair, holding him back so Sam could watch the drool and cum dripping down his chin, and Gene felt like a prize, something special that Sam wanted to see. Gene did not move his hands, did not open his eyes, feeling dirty and used and cherished, and praying that it was not over yet. Surely Sam knew that, surely Sam would not just let this end and put them to bed now. Not now, Gene silently begged, craving the taste of Sam's authority.
Sam stood up and let go of Gene, walking away, stripping. "You can open your eyes. Sit in the chair. Stay there." Sam spoke harshly, almost punishingly.
Gene heard the tone in Sam's voice and died inside, died in satisfaction and expectation. All this so far was just dipping toes into the water, small pushes and gives, but Sam was not going soft, and Gene was ready for whatever Sam threw at him. He could take it, he would do anything just to prove to Sam that he chose well, that Gene deserved him, that Gene was nothing without him. Gene pulled himself into the chair and looked at Sam, his face blank and wet, unwilling to clean himself off without permission, and deeply impressed that Sam did not give it. Maybe Sam was being petty, even childish, to do this now, but it took strength to carry out a threat. It took power to hold someone down, and if Sam was going to ride that energy than Gene was going to bow down before it. Forever, if he got the chance.
Sam smiled at Gene as he undressed, pleased, and Gene basked in approval. When he was naked, Sam laid down in the bed Gene made for them and went quickly to sleep.
Gene sat, cold and uncomfortable and content. Sam was strong and Gene longed to be absorbed by that strength, to lose himself in Sam's power, but he would wait until he was wanted, until he was needed, until it was time for Sam to take him to that place that Gene needed to go. It was not a choice he had to make for himself for once -- or for others, or at all -- and he waited in the vacuum of that responsibility feeling whole and adored.
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