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The afterglow lasted for a while. Sam was dazed 24-7, unsure of the territory he was in, now, as Gene’s lover. No, he corrected himself: he was Gene’s boyfriend. Just like it was a normal thing, as if it was always meant to be this way, as if Gene was exactly the person Sam always dreamed of sharing his life with, and soon they would appear on the cover of “OUT Magazine” as couple of the year.
None of which was true, of course. Sam still did not consider himself gay – or, as he tried to explain to Gene, he did not ‘self-identify’ as homosexual, to which Gene said what the fuck does it matter what you call yourself if you are screwing a man? Sam was careful not to point out that they were not screwing. Not yet. Gene was fully expecting them too at some point, and sometimes gave Sam very lurid descriptions of exactly how he imagined it was going to happen which unnerved Sam, who had never in his life tried anal sex and did not think there was anything particularly sexy about it, particularly on the receiving end which Gene assumed was Sam’s future role. The only sexy part was Gene’s very prosaic turn of phrase in describing the act, which he often did while wanking Sam off in bed.
In fact, the first time Sam even touched Gene’s cock was in the shower, not in bed, and over a week after their first erstwhile ‘night’ together. They stumbled back from the Railway Arms as they so often did and when they got to the flat, Gene sprawled in the chair and Sam stood in the middle of the room, realizing he spent half the day in the Cortina and the other half running at full speed through the streets chasing their quarry, finally wasting the evening drinking in the smoke-filled and overly-heated pub. He felt dirty, he knew he was rank, and he simply could not take it anymore.
“Shower.”
“Not movin’.”
“No, no: me. I’m takin’ a shower.”
“Go.” Gene waved him off and tipped his head back and looked immediately asleep.
Sam stood under the water with his eyes closed. He heard the bathroom door open and Gene relieving himself, after which he stood there, messing around. Sam did not open his eyes, not really caring about what Gene was doing because the hot water felt marvelous. His eyes snapped open when the shower door slid to the side and Gene stepped in. Sam moved back in shock as Gene rinsed off, because he was still not very used to sharing his personal space with a naked Gene. Gene looked at him and smiled, a sly, mischievous grin with heated, blazing eyes, and moved towards Sam, who pressed into the tiles in confusion. Gene stopped and brought his arms up, and rested his hands against the wall just above Sam’s shoulders, keeping his body at arm’s length from Sam, and splaying his legs as if he were using his strength to hold the wall up. They looked at each other and Sam suspected he was supposed to do something, but he had no idea what. Finally Gene sighed.
“Get me off, Sam.”
“Oh! Right.” Sam reached out and grabbed for Gene’s penis, and Gene hissed.
“Yer not milkin’ a damn cow…”
“Sorry…I’m sorry…I’m still new at this, okay?”
“Not like you never wanked off before. I think you’ll manage.” Gene looked at him, his expression tight and severe. Sam could not stand that, he wanted Gene to be comfortable and even pleased, so he leaned forward and kissed him as he started moving his hand up and down Gene’s shaft. That seemed to do the trick as Gene visibly relaxed around him and his cock became ram rod stiff in Sam’s hand. Still, Sam was self conscious and clumsy and he just did not know what the rules were. He figured he could play with the ball sack but he did not know and really did not want to find out how protective Gene was of his ass, or any other sensitive body parts. He could not treat Gene the way he did the women he had seduced; Gene would not appreciate it or even, probably, get it. Gene was too much of a man to take well to romantic seduction, which after all was Sam’s signature style, and without that script Sam was lost, emotionally as well as physically, and he spent most of his time just trying not to think about it. Like now.
Gene did not change position as Sam worked him up. He was far enough back to take in all of Sam’s body and to look down and see Sam’s hand on his cock, massaging it, and he enjoyed both views. His breathing sped up and Sam saw the muscles in his arms clinching and releasing and clinching again as Gene pressed into the wall. Gene was not a fashion model but his physicality was overwhelming and as he huffed, his skin flushed and Sam thought, of all bizarre ideas, that he was beautiful. Sam wanted to melt him with kisses but he could not bring himself to even try, for fear of one of Gene’s stinging, barbed rebukes, so instead leaned forward and began pumping Gene’s cock and put one hand on Gene’s shoulder, carefully avoiding petting or touching his chest. He did not want to do something wrong, and it seemed the better part of valor was to just not do anything at all. He focused on Gene’s cock, but that was weird enough, because aside from his own cock, he never held that part of another man’s anatomy in his grown life. It did not feel natural but Sam kept at it, focusing on Gene’s reactions and noises until Gene bunched up, his abdominal wall quivering, and Sam felt his cock swell and change shape in his hand. Gene was staring at him, saying nothing and not even blinking as Sam finally stroked him hard enough to bring him over the edge and Gene roared, stepping forward and slamming into Sam. He brought his arms around Sam as he shuddered, rolling into a groan, holding Sam so tightly that Sam could not remove his hand from Gene’s throbbing penis or even breathe deeply. After a moment Gene relaxed his grip and tilted his head down to kiss Sam, who was comfortable with that territory and kissed back as hard as he could.
Gene considered this foreplay. Sam figured that out as they kissed and Gene’s hands roamed over him. He hunched up and pushed his hands down the front of Sam’s body, chest to knees, and Sam gasped at the sensation of being intimately manhandled in a way no woman ever would. Gene wrapped his hands around Sam’s ass cheeks and pulled him in, rolling his hips, trapping Sam’s erection between them, skin on skin, and Sam’s arms flew up to wrap around Gene. Sam briefly considered what Gene expected, if Gene wanted him to come now or if he was working Sam up for something more later, which bothered him, and his mind drifted in the possibilities and consequences.
“Jesus, Sam, this ain’t gonna work.” Gene pushed off, breathing hard, moving to let the water run over him. Sam stalled. “I can hear yer damn brain runnin’ like a jet engine in here.” Gene frowned, looking down at him. Sam realized that this was stupid, two grown men standing naked in the shower and arguing about sex.
“I’m sorry. I just…”
“The only time you let yerself relax is when yer wankin’ yourself off. So go on.” Gene waved a hand at him dismissively and went to get out of the shower. Sam knew he should grab him, pull him back, but he did not do it when he should have and by the time he understood that, Gene was wrapped in a towel and leaving the bathroom. Sam ignored his hard-on and beat his head against the tile, angry with himself.
He got out and chased Gene, who was holding his trousers, preparing to get dressed. His motions were slow and studied, and Sam realized when he touched Gene that the man was holding something in.
“Gene, come on; come to bed. I’ll…make it up to you. Okay?”
Gene looked at him, his expression blank. “How?”
“Oh. Uh…well…I could…” Sam squinted, trying to think creatively, and missed his cue. Gene stepped forward and hit him in the gut and Sam dropped to his knees, as much from shock as pain. Gene pulled one arm behind him and locked it there, getting down on one knee behind Sam, who was waiting for the kidney punch or the rape. Neither idea was appealing and he sucked in air, steeling himself.
Gene reached around with his free arm and grabbed Sam’s cock in a crushing, hot hold, squeezing blood into it. Sam cried out in pain and arousal, his body bucking back against Gene in rebellion. Sam instinctively leaned forward, stretching his other arm out to try and brace himself on the ground, and pushing his knees apart, wider, for balance. Gene twisted his trapped arm as he began pumping Sam’s cock and Sam’s vision blurred. Gene shuffled in closer, his legs in between Sam’s, and nearly sitting on his heels to keep his position wrapped low on top of Sam. Their hips were aligned and Sam felt Gene’s erection, which was pressed down and actually poking into Sam’s ball sack and the sensation was so intense that Sam groaned again. Gene picked up the pace of his hand in response.
“God damnit go off, Sam, just fuckin’ feel my dick on you and me jackin’ you off. I’ve got my hot filthy hand on your cock and I’m going to keep pumping you until you blow cum all over yourself, see it dripping down your chin…yeah, boy, you dirty minded tight-arse slut, you’re coming for me and god damnit you’re going to cry like a girl when you come, going to lick yourself clean with your dirty tongue…oh jesus, yes, like that, like that, Sam, cry for me…” Gene kept twisting his arm as he fisted Sam’s cock and Sam was delirious, beyond anything he had ever felt before, flying on a sensation that was surreal and magnificent, words failing him completely as he whined and cried just the way Gene wanted him to. He felt his orgasm pounce on him from nowhere and he was not ready for it, and he yelled out, unabashed over who might hear or what he was saying.
“FUCK! Gene! Oh god yes yes yes…for you…for you…” Sam sobbed, curling down, feeling his cum shooting out of him to land he did not care where. His body shuddered and suddenly he was on the floor, on his side, Gene holding him in a bear hug and shaking.
“Thank you, love…” Gene gasped, gently rubbing the arm he had twisted mercilessly. “…you damn annoying twat…” Gene buried his face into Sam’s neck and sucked on his skin with abandon, and Sam let him, uncaring, physically demolished, and scared out of his mind. He hated losing control and he did not want to believe that Gene was turned on by watching him collapse like that, abandoned to passion and lust. He did not want to be Gene’s wind up toy, but as he lay there he understood that he did not really know what he wanted to be at all.
Gene’s hard on was back and pressing into Sam, the shaft running along his butt crack with heat and intensity. Sam knew Gene wanted him, and he had seen Gene fucking before and he knew what it would be like and he simply did not want that. But then Gene rolled away, onto his back, and lay still, one arm wrapped around Sam. “Not going to take what you won’t give, Sam.”
Sam rolled over into Gene’s hold, wondering when the man became psychic. “I’m sorry.”
“You always are.”
From that point, hand jobs were their preferred sexual intercourse, and Sam got used to Gene’s cock in his hands and adored his own cock in Gene’s hands, and it felt safe and equal and controllable. Gene particularly loved doing it in the Cortina, which Sam wished he could have bet money on because he knew the man had a fetish for that wretched car anyway. But the Cortina was not ‘safe’ in any sense and after a particularly heated front-seat session on a stake out under a lamp post Sam decided that Gene was a secret adrenaline junkie. Sam encouraged it; he did not know Gene’s turn-ons and the more he could keep Gene focused on the rush and not the mechanics, the more Sam could avoid facing up to the fact that he was, at some point, going to have to put out. He was fatalistic about the eventuality of it, but he was determined to be a good lover to Gene to make up for current limitations. He read Gene like a book and followed every lead closely and never stepped beyond the boundaries of what they had done before, letting Gene take the risks of pushing the borders of their physical relationship.
After the first month, their love making became comfortable, and Gene stopped pushing Sam into anything. Relieved, Sam worked hard to hit Gene’s buttons, kissing him in the ways that always garnered a reaction and focusing on the areas of his skin that seemed to arouse him the most. Gene loved watching Sam a lot and once Sam figured that out, he did his best to present, but he felt silly sometimes, and he balked at masturbating like a peep show performer. Sam preferred comfortable to exciting, and he figured as long as they were both still getting off, then he was doing his job.
The worst part, for Sam, was being in the closet. He hated it. He did not understand the necessity of it, and he did not value the social order of 1974 enough to bend to its will. He could accept his ‘lifestyle choice’ (which earned him another heavy snort from Gene), as far as that went, but he did not accept the limitations that came with it.
“Sam, if you don’t tone it down, we’ll just have to spray paint ‘FAG’ on the side of the car.” Gene growled as they rode the elevator down from CID to the lobby. A body was found in an alley and plods were guarding it, waiting for Gene to get there. Ray and Chris were already out, following up leads on another case, and would meet them at the scene.
“What?” Sam stared at him.
“Do not, I repeat, DO NOT touch my face in this building again.” Gene snarled.
“You had sherbet on you.” Sam shrugged, confused and nonplussed, and Gene glared at him.
“You keep acting like my wife, and people might get the crazy idea that we are balls deep shagging like the bloody nancy queers we are. Don’t know why I might think that, but I do. So keep your roaming hands to yourself!” Gene stomped out as the doors opened and Sam trailed after him, his hands held out in his usual posture of amazed annoyance.
They arrived at the scene in Gene’s typical record time and everything went to hell. Sam stood over the body in shock, horrified, although the crime itself was not that messy. One gunshot to the skull, probably a .22, nothing massive, just simply and efficiently lethal. The victim was killed and died where he fell, and Sam could think of at least five reasons why this upstanding lawyer would be in a dirty alley on the wrong side of town, although none of those reasons ended with him getting shot dead.
Gene directed the scene as always and did not even twitch when they first saw the body. Nothing, not any sign of recognition, and Sam hated him for it.
“Sam.” Gene stood next to him and Sam looked up, and he knew he did not look happy. “We got to let the photog get in.” Gene moved him back. They were standing separated from others, then, and Sam turned on him.
“Can’t even pretend you care?”
“Sam, not here.”
“He was your friend!” Sam hissed. Gene frowned at him and leaned in, whispering back.
“No. We’re going to find out Terry was just a bloke who threw notorious parties and scared his neighbors. In fact I’m sure we are going to discover that he was one of those disgusting fudge packers who brought young boys over to his house to grope in the dark, and the world will be a better place for someone offing the perverted likes of him.” Gene stared at him malevolently. “Even worse, Sammy Boy, we’re going to discover he was a solicitor.” Gene walked off, leaving Sam to seethe alone.
Of course all of Gene’s less-than-prescient predictions came true, through no active work on Gene’s part. Gene treated the body like a complete stranger and let Ray track down the particulars from Terry’s ID, still in his wallet along with a hefty amount of cash. When it came time to go to Terry’s house and interview neighbors, Gene led the charge, and Sam thought he was mad. As they drove over, Sam tapped his foot loudly until Gene grunted.
“The neighbors will recognize you,” Sam said defensively.
“Us.”
“No, I only went once.”
“Think I went every bloody Sunday? S’not church, Sam. And if they think they recognize me, I will calmly explain that they are starkers and threaten to kick the cat. If that don’t work, you can play the tart an’ make all them lonely housewives cream. They’ll agree to anything we tell them with you batting your pretty eyelashes at them.”
Sam stared. “I don’t suppose it ever occurred to you that this is a murder investigation?”
“Why you think we’re going?” Gene asked seriously.
The parties definitely were notorious, but for some reason no one ever remembered recognizing anyone who went. Sam believed them; they probably shuttered the windows and hid the children in the basement whenever Terry held a party, because apparently most people knew in an oblique and improvable way the ‘nature’ of his ‘proclivities.’ The last party was the weekend prior, and nothing special happened, which was neighborhood code for ‘we did not call the police.’ Nothing was out of order in the house either, and from what they could piece together, Terry simply never got home from work the day before.
As they rode back to the station, Sam chewed on his thumb.
“Out with it, Dorothy.”
“Nice. I thought you might say something affectionate like, ‘what’s wrong, sweet heart?’ and then I’d have to jump out the car and kill myself.”
Gene glared at him out of the corner of his eyes and Sam snorted and returned to chewing on his thumb.
“What’s wrong, sweet heart?” The tone dripped malice, and Gene’s grip on the steering wheel was crushing.
Sam decided the best tactic was to keep to the topic on his mind. “There was a party last Saturday. You know ‘bout that?”
“Yep.” Gene kept his eyes straight ahead.
“Didn’t want to go?” Sam’s narrowed his eyes.
“Nope.”
“Didn’t think I might want to?”
“As you so carefully point out, you ain’t queer, and I would not want to ruffle your delicate sensibilities by exposing you to a house full of arse fucking perverts.”
“…I’m willing to try, Gene.” Sam sighed heavily.
“Are you? Can’t tell, you never let me get past your balls.”
“No! Not that! I mean I’m willing to try to be a part of your life! The parties…whatever it is closeted homophobic queer men do in fucking 1974.” Sam growled and folded his arms.
“They fuck.”
Sam kicked the floorboard. “Why are we talking about sex? Isn’t this about a murder investigation?”
“No, this is about your being an uptight, Hyde-y pants prick tease!” Gene finally yelled.
“I’m trying, Gene! I’m not gay and you know that! I don’t…” Sam stalled, not sure what he was trying to say.
“You don’t want to be. Welcome to the club, boy. NO ONE volunteers for this mission!” Gene hit the steering wheel so hard the car swerved and Sam nearly jumped out of his seat. Gene never said anything about his life like this, and Sam just assumed that his acceptance of his sexuality was a given, that Gene did not question it or second guess it. He forced himself to remain quiet while Gene collected himself, pulling over to park on the side of the street. He turned to Sam and pointed at him, a picture of coiled rage, and Sam pressed himself backwards into his seat. “Too much of a man, Sam?”
“WHAT has that got to do with anything?” Sam pointed back, a futile mimicry, but somehow all that felt appropriate.
“Tonight. I’m making a fag out of you tonight.” Gene turned quickly back around and threw the car into gear.
“Don’t threaten me.”
“That’s no threat, Sam, that’s a promise.”
“So you’re going to rape me? That it, then? Don’t matter how much I care about you or how many times I get you off; I just don’t let you ream me up the arse so I’m not really gay? Or just not gay enough for Gene Hunt, Flaming Queer of Manchester!”
The car stopped so hard Sam was flung against the dash, even with his seatbelt on.
“Get out.”
Sam tore the restraint off and spilled out of the car, slamming the door behind him as Gene drove off. He walked to the station, which took nearly an hour. When he got there Ray briefed him the status of the case, along with a few cracks about poofs and bum-bandits that Chris thought were hysterical. Sam ignored Gene, who was in his office, doing something other than drinking.
“What happened, Sam?” Annie came over and sat on the edge of the desk.
Sam rolled his head and rubbed his eyes. “Guv and I got in a disagreement. He threw me out the car and I had to walk back.”
Annie smiled sadly. “He came in here furious, throwing things around. We knew it was about you.”
“What you mean?” Sam squinted.
“Jus’…you have a way of getting to him. Sam, sometimes…sometimes you just got to let him have his way, yeah? Because he needs that.”
Sam leaned back and folded his arms, his mouth twitching as he tried not to smile. “This your advice, woman to woman style?”
Annie laughed and it was warm and alluring, and Sam gazed at her, spellbound. She was beautiful and she was kind and by god, she was female, and he wanted that.
“What are you doing for dinner, Annie?”
She stopped and looked uncomfortable. “Sam…I don’t think…well, maybe it just wasn’t meant to work out for us. I…don’t mind dinner, you know, I’d like to, I just don’t want you to think it’s a date or anything.” She said quietly.
“I’ll try to keep my hands to myself and behave in a professional and disinterested way.” He smiled, knowing that he would win her if he tried. Maybe not tonight, but he almost had her once, and he could get that back if he really wanted to. She smiled at him and the deal was sealed.
Sam went through the rest of the day pleased with himself and ignoring Gene. He had to ignore him, because he simply could not handle him at this point, and he certainly did not want to be handled by him.
“Time.” Gene loomed over his desk.
“For what, Guv?” Sam did not look up.
“Pub. Let’s go.” His voice was neutral and Sam knew this was his way of being conciliatory. Sam kept his head down but looked up with his eyes.
“Got plans.”
Gene tilted his head. They were not alone, and there was no way the matter could be pursued, and Gene knew it. He nodded and walked off.
The date went well, Sam thought as he bounced back to his flat. No kissing, other than a short peck on the cheek, but by the end of dinner the flirting was out of control and Annie was giggling non stop. She was smart and sweet and honest and had a beautiful ass – Sam was not oblivious – and he reveled in the feeling of a woman wanting him like that. He was seducing and he was in control, and the ideas of what he could do to those magnificent hips intoxicated him. It was not a perfect night, but it was good one, and he got to his flat on a high of romance and testosterone.
He almost expected Gene to be at his flat, waiting for him, wanting to fight, but he was not. Sam tried not to be disappointed, and reminded himself that this was the same man who threatened to rape him earlier that day. He sat around bored for a bit then went to bed, wondering where in the hell Gene was.
The next day the autopsy came back on Terry, and nothing surprising was in it. Thirty-eight year old white male, 5’11”, in the prime of health, shot in the head and killed instantly. No bruising anywhere, or any indication of a fight. Sam and Chris started on another list of people to interview, workmates and friends, and finally Sam realized Gene was not there.
“You seen the Guv?”
“Uh? No. Probably won’t be in ‘til late.” Chris shrugged.
“What? Why?”
“Well he always shows up late after a night of practicing darts with his mates, yeah?” Chris shrugged again and Sam’s stomach dropped. “Always. Drinks a lot at darts practice, he does. Oh you know that…’ey, aren’t you practicing with him, now?”
“No.” Sam tried to remain coherent but he could not.
“Oh.”
“He didn’t mention it yesterday, ‘bout having a practice lined up.” Sam pursed his lips.
“’E forgot!” Chris laughed in delight at Gene’s expense. “We were at the pub and laying bets on you and Annie and he remembered…”
“What, wait? Laying bets? What are you talking about?”
“Oh Phyllis told Sally who told Mark who told Geoff that you an’ Annie were on a date. So, er, you know, we was…” His voice trialed off as he realized exactly how inappropriate he was being. Sam knew he looked furious, and he took advantage of it.
“Do not ever, and I mean EVER, bring that up again, with me or anyone in this office.”
“Yeah yeah, Boss, sure.” Chris leaned back away from him. Sam got up and walked out of CID, going to the men’s room to collect himself. As he stood there, water dripping down his face, he looked in the mirror and realized that he played with fire and got burned. Gene upped the game, because he could: he went out and shagged someone while Sam was laughing over cheap wine with Annie. Gene put him in his place. Sam lost this round, and his entire body boiled, angrier over losing than Gene shagging someone else.
“Boss?” Chris peeked into the bathroom. Sam did not answer, just looked at him, and he knew he looked murderous. Chris blanched. “Er, well, just after you, er, walked out, Phyllis brought up somethin’ for you. Has to do with the case, I think…” Chris trailed off. Sam nodded and walked back out. Chris pointed to a brown envelope on his desk, addressed to Sam. Along the bottom was Terry’s full name, Terrance Andrew Franklin, but nothing else. It was delivered by hand, so Sam sent Chris down with his notebook to find out who accepted the package and if they could remember anything about it.
Sam knew he should not touch it without gloves on, but something about the whole thing worried him. It was strange, and odd, and for once he followed his instincts and just opened it up. On a blank piece of paper were the typewritten words “Back Off”, and paper clipped to that was a grainy photograph. Sam slammed into his chair, staring at it, because it was grainy and black and white and clear as fucking day.
It was Gene and him in the Cortina, a zoom shot of them in the heat of a clutch, and Sam even remembered that particular session because it was one of the few times Gene unbuttoned his shirt all the way. There was no mistaking what was going on as Sam was kissing Gene’s neck and his hands were down in Gene’s trousers, while Gene shoved one hand down the back of Sam’s pants to fondle his ass. It was a terrific memory that was shattered now in pure horror as Sam stared at the photo.
He put the photo back into the envelope with shaking hands and sat there, breaking out into a cold sweat. This was blackmail of the highest order, the type of thing that would destroy both Gene and himself, but Gene most of all. Gene would lose everything, if not get charged under the Sexual Offences Act of ‘67 which was vague enough to consider hand jobs between grown men in a car as a criminal offense, even if the men were well over twenty one years old. Gene would go to jail.
Sam put the envelope into his jacket pocket, damning forensics. No way could he let anyone see this, and it was bad enough Chris even saw the envelope. Sam put his jacket on and looked around, wondering where in the hell Gene was. He needed him, now, and he did not know where to look.
Phyllis could not get him on the radio, but since it was just past nine in the morning after a ‘darts practice,’ she did not expect to. Sam told Chris to review their notes then went out and grabbed a police vehicle with no apologies. He went to Gene’s flat, channeling Gene’s driving skills, heedless of nearly everything, and praying that Gene just went home after doing whomever he did. He let himself in with his key, knocking loudly, and walked in.
Gene was sitting in his kitchen, drinking his morning tea, looking annoyed, and that was all exactly as normal. The second tea cup sitting next to the sink was not. Sam’s eyes locked on it. He stepped around Gene and went to the cup, picking it up and inspecting it. There was still some warmth to it, and the dregs were clear. This was not a cup that sat out overnight. He put it down, braced himself for a moment against the counter, and turned around.
“I’ll ask you once, Gene: did he sleep in your bed?”
Gene did not want to answer, and that was confirmation enough, but Sam held himself together and waited. Finally Gene nodded once and looked away, angry and tense.
Sam breathed deeply and pulled in all his reserves. “Okay. Thank you for being honest. Now. Business.” He clinched his jaw as he pulled the envelope out and handed it to Gene, who took it, confused. “Just…fuckin’ open it, Gene.” Sam turned and walked out of the kitchen, out of the flat, and got in the car. He peeled off, furious, scared, and bitter. He almost accepted the idea of Gene tearing off for a quick shag when he heard about Sam’s date with Annie; hell, tit for tat on that one, and Sam could not blame anyone but himself for it. Gene scared him, and Sam scared himself, and so he ran off with the first available woman to walk by his desk. It was immature and irresponsible and he knew it, and while he did not like the idea of Gene with anyone else, he could not exactly call him out on it.
But bringing someone home and letting him stay in his bed, that ripped Sam apart. Gene confessed once that he only allowed one other man into his bed before Sam, someone he had loved, and Sam cherished the idea that he was somehow precious to Gene because of that admission. Sam felt special because of it, but now he wondered if it was just sweet talk, if Gene had taken a lot of his tricks home and fucked them in the bed that Sam almost considered his.
“870, come in?” The radio crackled before he was halfway back to the station.
“870 here, Alpha One. Go ahead.”
“Guv called in, said to meet you at the chippie at Hastings and Norwell.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “Thanks, Phyll…er, Alpha One, copy that, received.”
Gene was already there, deep into a pack of cigarettes and looking drawn. Sam sat down across from him.
“No forensics.”
“Agreed. No way we can hand them that envelope without revealing what was in it.” Sam shook his head.
“We’re being blackmailed, Sam.” Gene said quietly, stubbing out his smoke.
“And very effectively, I might add, no thanks to your car fetish.”
“Sam…” Gene pulled in a breath.
“I don’t want to hear it.”
Gene nodded, and Sam wanted more of a fight than that, be he was not going to get it.
“You think Terry was being blackmailed?” Sam wondered out loud, forcing himself to move on, to get back to business.
“Stupid way to do it, shoot your mark. And leave his money in his wallet.”
“Maybe he wouldn’t pay up. Called the bluff.”
“And I say, stupid way to do it.”
“Maybe he was blackmailing someone else?”
Gene looked at him. “Good. That’s good. Maybe.”
“But then his mark turns and blackmails us? What, every queer in this city walking around with a zoom lens?”
“Lower your voice, Sam.” Gene looked around, his eyes darting, and for the first time since they met, Sam saw fear there. Fear of words; the man could face down rioting hordes of criminals waving shotguns, but he was terrified of errant, cast off words.
“We went through Terry’s house, there was nothing there. No dark room, no cameras, no incriminating…” Sam’s head snapped up, and Gene was already heading for the exit. Sam tore after him and they dived into the Cortina, Gene flooring it before Sam closed the door. Sam mentally reviewed what was discovered at Terry’s house, which was a lot of nothing. His personal diary was taken back to the station but it was mostly an appointment calendar, and Annie was going through that. If photographs turned up, particularly photos of him and Gene, no doubt someone would have screamed in horror (especially Chris, Sam thought with chagrin). But the fact was, they were not looking for anything incriminating at Terry’s, because he was the victim, not the suspect, and if something was hidden, it was probably missed.
They walked into the house and began ripping it apart. Sam took on his den, which Terry used as a personal office. He worked through the desk and started on the bookshelves and was nearly done tossing every book on the floor when Gene yelled out.
“Sam!”
Gene was upstairs, half into the attic crawlway. He looked down as Sam walked up.
“Photos.” He threw down a large envelope, then another, then another. Each was labeled, and each one had been thoroughly sealed and then ripped open. Sam’s hands shook, holding the one labeled ‘Hunt.’
“Shit.” Sam looked at the envelope, realizing that someone had torn it open, grabbed photos out of it, and thrown it back. “Why not just take the whole envelope? Not like it isn’t easy to carry.” He turned it over, and looked at the other ones on the floor as Gene turned on the ladder to look at him.
“Buried up here under some newspapers. Didn’t even think I’d find anything. Damn.”
“Just a hunch, yeah?” Sam gave him a half smile.
“Yeah, Sammy Boy. Just a hunch.” Gene did not sound pleased about it.
“Don’t get it.” Sam tapped the envelope.
“They wanted them found, could’ve set them on the damn desk.” Gene frowned.
“In a hurry?”
“Grab and run. Don’t stand around ripping open envelopes and then hiding them back where you found them.”
“Unless you didn’t.”
“Smart. Hide them from Terry in his own house, he thinks they’ve been stolen. They aren’t on you, he can rip your place apart trying to find them. You come back when he’s not home and dip into the stash as needed. Good. So he was shot trying to work a deal to get them back?” Gene sucked on his teeth, still standing on the ladder.
“Partner. Had to be. No dark room here, and these are not photos you can just send down to the shop to get developed.” Sam said, pulling out a few from the one in his hands. Gene and him, again, a different time in the Cortina, and Sam flipped through them, looking for something like a clue. He swore under his breath and dropped the envelope. “Fuck!”
Gene stepped down to look at the photo in Sam’s hands. “Shit.” He looked at Sam, who looked at him and then threw his fist into Gene’s face.
Gene did not really fight back, he mostly kept Sam at bay as Sam raged on him, until finally he just picked Sam up and threw him down the hall. Sam glared up at him from the floor.
“How long, Gene? How long you been fucking that kid?”
Gene picked up the photo and furiously tore it apart, heedless of the fact that it was evidence.
“HOW LONG?”
“Long enough. Get up.”
Sam stared at him. “Since before?”
Gene stood with his hands on his hips, still holding the destroyed photo, breathing deeply. “No.”
Sam sat up, shocked. “You started on him after me?”
“You won’t put out, Sam, you brought this on yourself.”
“You lying hypocritical bastard! You cheat! You fucking miserable…”
“I get your point!” Gene roared, throwing the remains of the photo to the ground. “Can we stick to the subject?”
Sam could not bring himself to answer.
“Sam, now is not the time.” Gene bent over to pick up the envelopes, shoving the remains of the photo back in with the others.
Sam crawled up and looked at Gene. “Fuck you. Go down in flames, Gene. I don’t care.” He went to leave, but Gene grabbed his arm.
“This is you too, Sam, this slick bastard got us nailed together in this.”
“We. Are. Not. Together.” Sam pulled his arm out of Gene’s grasp and walked off.
Sam ended up walking back to the chippie where he parked the car he had taken out, which took over half an hour. He walked into CID limping on a blister and furious. Annie spotted him and walked over. “Sam?”
Sam stared at his desk. The walk took some of his fury out, but he was still destroyed. Betrayed and destroyed by the man he thought loved him, not that either would admit that. Not that Gene would ever say anything like that, to him, for any reason. Not that Gene gave a damn.
“Something’s come up, Annie.”
“Sam? You look terrible. You and Gene fight again?” She reached out and held the same arm Gene had grabbed earlier, and Sam flinched. “Sam?”
“Something like that. Annie…things might get…bad.”
“Like we ain’t been through bad?” She smiled reassuringly.
“Worse. I can’t tell you how worse. Look, where’s Ray?”
Annie stepped back, surprised. “In the canteen.”
“Thanks.” He left her confused, but that could not be helped. He found Ray and Chris eating lunch and stood next to them.
“What?” Ray asked after a few seconds.
“You’re taking over the Franklin case from me.”
Ray’s eyes narrowed. “You’re workin’ with the Guv on that.”
“He’s workin’ it, but I’m not. Time for you to step up.”
Ray glared and then glanced at Chris before sneering at Sam. “What up with you? Can’t take the Guv anymore? Beat on your poncey ass too hard, did he?”
“Yeah, he did. In fact he made me cry like a girl, and I’m going to go home and write nasty things about him in my diary. Now do your fucking job.” Sam turned on his heel and walked off.
Sam knew his limits. He hit that point exactly twice in his life. The first time he was young and in love and nearly threw away his entire career for a girl who did not love him. He came home and cried on his mother’s lap and slept for a week, then he pulled himself together. He went to Mexico for a month to work out the kinks, came home, ratcheted up his ambitions to stratospheric proportions, and made good on that the day he made DCI. The second time, he thought he jumped off a roof. He did not remember it all so much, and those memories were fading with time. He remembered the feeling, though, the sense of being broken that ran through both of those events and threatened to sink him now. He was not ready to resign, but he could not function right now, and he knew it.
He challenged everything he believed about his sexuality and his concepts of love with Gene. He threw himself into that bizarre relationship and while he was bad at relationships in general, he did not expect this one to crash quite so spectacularly and take down so much of him with it. He was honest with himself in thinking that he did not exactly know what he wanted from Gene, but he was deadly clear in knowing what he did not want. Maybe Gene just wanted a regular piece of ass, and if Sam was not going to be that, then he was going to find someone who was. Sam was replaceable, or he felt that way now, and it shattered more than just his relationship with Gene: it shattered his own self perceptions.
Not to mention the small matter of his career, which, Gene was right, would sink just as fast and as hard as Gene’s would if things went sour on the case.
Drinking was a bad idea. He knew it, and purposely steered clear of the Railway Arms, but he could not bring himself to go back to his flat so he wandered out of the station and down the road until he hit a park. He was being irresponsible but he felt numb. Entirely numb. He thought maybe he did not remember himself anymore. Maybe that was not a bad thing.
“Sit here all day, Dorothy?”
Sam looked over his shoulder, and realized that the sun was low in the sky. He looked up at Gene.
“Driving by, find this div sitting on a bench with a bad hair cut, looking like he just escaped the looney bin. Thought I might stop to see if he needs his meds.” Gene walked around and pulled out a flask, handing it out to Sam. After a second, Sam took it and opened it, taking as large a mouthful as he could of the harsh, pungent liquor. Gene sat down next to him. “So. You like talking. Talk.”
Sam shook his head.
“Okay, then I’ll talk. Get a call on the radio, Ray telling me you’ve dropped the case in his lap, and what does he want me to do? So ‘course I say, ‘Ray, I’m a flaming queer and I’m being blackmailed with pictures of me and my DI wanking each other off in the Cortina. Think you can help?’”
Sam laughed in spite of himself, and Gene patted him on the shoulder like a brother.
“Sam, you can’t drop this case. Ray can’t find out any of this, and you know it. It’s us, no matter what’s going on otherwise. We solve this, or we go to jail.”
“Good place for me to be your bitch.” Sam said without emotion, not feeling angry, just alone.
“I don’ think of you like that, Sam. Never have. Never will.”
“No, you just…” Sam stopped, and shook his head, not wanting to make this into a petty tirade. “I thought…I thought it was something different.”
“It is.”
“No. How long was it before you cheated on me? A month? A week? Did you even last that long?”
“Damnit, Sam. Don’t do this.”
“You did it, not me. I did not ‘put out’ and so you used that as an excuse to fuck around.” Sam shrugged.
“I did.”
Sam looked at him then, and saw Gene staring out into the distance, his eyes bright and angry.
“Once, Sam…it was a different world. After the War. Yer too young to remember. Everything was topsy turvy. This city was dangerous and no one was safe, and the Americans were gone, and so was their money. Everyone was hungry and nothing was easy. Stu…got lost on the speed. Just went out and kept going.” Gene drank from the flask and Sam looked at him, perplexed, unsure of what this had to do with anything. “There was this cop. Watched over me. I was about, what, thirteen? Didn’t know any better, just a kid fighting it out on the streets. He kept me out of trouble, steered me clear of the deep waters. He showed me the future, what I could do as a cop, how I could make my city safe.”
“Was he…your first?”
“What? No, Sam, bloody hell, not talking about that. I’m talking about you.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You remind me of him. Pure. Strong, smart, all about the future.”
“Oh.” Sam squinted, certain that he was not taking this compliment properly. “So what happened?”
“…I snogged him, thinking…well, thinking wrong, as it turned out. He beat the hell out of me, broke my arm and nearly ripped my ear off.”
“Shit.”
Gene shrugged as if it was simply to be expected when you kiss the wrong man. “I screwed up then, and I screwed up with Mark, and I screwed up with you. I got my reasons, but don’t change facts.” Gene stood up. “So that’s it.”
“You thought about apologizing?” Sam asked, standing up next to him.
“I did. He called me a faggot and spit on me.” Gene shoved his hands in his coat pockets.
Sam stared at him in horror, trying to process how it would feel to be a teenager and have your hero do that to you, after beating you close to death. He could not even conceive of the emotion, and gave up, finally finding his voice again. “No, I meant to me.”
Gene turned to look at him. “I thought about it. Figured you’d call me a faggot and spit on me, and I’m in no hurry to go there again.” Gene looked off again. “I’m not going to apologize to a man who hates me, Sam.” He said it quietly with a rare resignation that chilled Sam. Gene walked away, back towards where his car was parked. Sam followed and as they got in and closed the doors, Sam grabbed Gene’s wrist. “I don’t hate you. But you hurt me.”
“Fine sentiment for a girl like you. But I see it, Sam.” Gene pulled his wrist free and pointed at Sam’s face. “I see it in your eyes. You got nothing there for me anymore, if you ever did, because you ain’t queer and damn you for trying.” Gene said and turned to start the car, as if he had just given to weather forecast for the day. “I won’t defend meself, no point, you saw the photo. I knew what I was doing, and what would happen if you found out. And it did. Now we move on.”
“No, no…” Sam shook his head, feeling himself loose control of the situation.
“Sam, let it go.”
“I can’t.”
Gene drove out. “Right now, we’ve got bigger problems.”
Sam looked out the window, knowing a compromise when it was handed to him.
Gene updated him on his day, which was spent going to the other blackmail victims and confronting them with what he knew. Since they were all part of the same circle that Terry and Gene moved in, they knew him and were willing to tell him everything, off the record. They each received photos in the mail with typewritten letters demanding money. Not huge sums of money, but added up together, significant, and the intention of the blackmailer was to keep milking the deal as long as possible. The letters made clear that these were the first demands of many, that more photos were going to be sent, and that the negatives were not going to be destroyed for any amount offered.
“Payment plan. Smart.” Sam nodded.
“One helluva pension.”
“But not you.”
“No, and that bothers me too. Saving us as insurance?”
“According to you, the other victims are well off. You’re a cop; how much spare change you got to give up in blackmail?”
“Insurance, then, in case everything went sour, or the marks went crying to the cops.”
“…I just get the feeling that Terry’s murder was not in the plans.” Sam frowned.
“Quick, you are. Obviously not. Kill him, and lose access to the photos stash.”
“Still doesn’t make sense. If his partner was the camera man, he has the negatives, he doesn’t need to stash the photos anywhere.”
Gene nodded. “That piles it up, though. Partner in crime, plus another person who decides to branch out? Two partners?...no. Terry was smart, damn smart. He would not put himself into that kind of clumsy plan with so many loose ends.”
“Maybe we’re coming at it all wrong.”
“And how you figure that?”
“I don’t know. But we’re running in circles here and nothing is making sense.”
“You never do, anyway.” Gene grumbled and Sam shot him an annoyed look.
“Lets go sit and look at the photos. See if we can find a common denominator, a place or a perspective or a person.”
Gene nodded and they ended up at Gene’s flat. Gene fixed them drinks, which in his lexicon meant setting out a full bottle with two glasses next to it, and they sat down to review the photographs. There were five targets, four of whom actually got letters demanding money. The fifth, of course, was Gene. Sam set out the photos all over the floor and for a porn shoot, it was great stuff. Gene refused to add the photos of himself for general perusal, keeping them in the envelope and the envelope underneath a couch cushion, but from the few Sam saw, they were the tamest of the bunch. Most of the photos were of men fucking in the raw, half naked or close to it, in alley ways or back yards or, in one case, on the hood of a car in a garage. Gene spent a lot of time on that one.
“Bloody hell, we study these much more and my dick’s gonna start dancing the cha cha without me.” Gene sighed, leaning back on the couch, the bulge in his trousers not prominent but obvious.
Sam rolled his eyes, sitting on the floor surrounded by lurid photographs. “You know all the blackmail victims.”
Gene nodded.
“But these others, they ones they’re shagging?...other than me.”
Gene shook his head and shrugged, unimpressed with the conversation. “Don’t matter. Boys are boys. And you don’t shag.”
Sam snorted in displeasure and ignored the jab. “We need to add yours to the mix.”
“No.” Gene finished his glass and poured a double.
“Yes, and you know it. This is a case, a murder case, and we can’t let our…personal situation affect our judgment.”
Gene slammed the drink and brought out the envelope, throwing it at Sam. There were twelve photographs, not counting the one Gene ripped up. Nine of them were Gene and Sam in the Cortina, hands all over each other and tongues down throats; three were not, and those were down right pornographic shots of Gene fucking the kid into the floor, somewhere that was not Gene’s house and someplace that Gene felt comfortable leaving the blinds open. Sam did not ask for specifics and Gene did not offer as Sam laid them out with the others. In total, they had over fifty spread out around them. Sam started grouping photos by time of day but no pattern emerged. He tried ‘situational’ such as the ‘car’ group and the ‘in the grass’ group and nothing. Each couple was different, and while a few changed out partners there was no overlap. Sam stood up and looked around.
“I don’t see anything here that helps us. At all.” Sam put his hands on his hips.
“And it is past dinner time.” Gene looked expectantly at Sam.
“I am not, repeat, not making you dinner.” Sam picked up one of the shots of Gene and the kid, and flung it at him. “In case you forgot.”
Gene picked up the photo thoughtfully and stared at it. “No. Didn’t forget,” he said quietly and bent over, picking up photos and sorting them back into the respective envelopes. Sam went out to use the restroom and calm down. When he got back out, the floor was cleared of photographs and Gene had turned on the telly. He looked at Sam.
“Stay.” He said it as if requesting Sam to work late.
“I want to.”
“Good.”
“But not with you, not in that bed. I’m on the couch.”
Gene shrugged and gazed at the telly, and Sam could not tell if he cared or not. “Not until after Dr. Who.”
“You do not watch Dr. Who.”
“My telly, my rules.”
“Already seen it.” Sam fell into the lounger chair, far away from Gene, who poured himself another double.
“No, new episode.”
“Already seen it.”
“No, you ain’t seen it: new episode.”
“Betcha I’ve seen it.” Sam grinned, enjoying the crazy banter.
“You have not seen it, Sam, I told you….” The argument went on and finally Gene was plastered drunk and Sam nearly so, and happy, because it almost felt the way it used to: comfortable, warm, and affectionate, just the two of them sitting around drunkenly arguing about nothing. Dr. Who finally took over and Sam stared in horror, realizing that yes, he had seen it before, and yes, it was really, really terrible. The special effects made him cringe and he decided to invest what life savings he had into George Lucas in about two more years. Anything for the cause.
“That’s you.” Gene waved his glass at the television. Sam started.
“I’m Dr. Who?”
“No!” Gene shook his head but did not elaborate.
“He’s the only Time Lord.”
“No he ain’t. You fergot the Master.” Gene slurred.
“Right, well, I’m not the Master, either, okay? I am not a Time Lord, Gene.” Sam smiled, thinking that it might make more sense if he was.
“NO! Damnit, them…” Gene pointed again.
“Daleks?” Sam stared in confusion, because by no stretch of the imagination was he a phallic shaped robot with plungers for limbs. Even Gene’s worst pornographic imaginings could not go that far.
“Yep.” Gene nodded in satisfaction as he tilted on the sofa.
“You think I’m a Dalek?” Sam shook his head, smiling at Gene’s obvious confusion.
“That…is…EXACTLY how you fuck.” Gene snarled, starting at the TV, and Sam’s mouth fell open.
“What?”
“Pre…pre…precise. By the book. Like a damn machine, cold.” Gene sneered and Sam sat back, appalled.
“I don’t…I don’t…”
“Do. You fuckin’ follow procedure, you do, to the line.” Gene finished his drink while Sam reeled.
“Gene…”
Gene waved a hand at him dismissively. “No no, Sam, I’m damn lucky. You go by the numbers and never miss a beat. You can get a dead man off with those prissy, efficient hands of yours.”
Sam stalled as Gene watched the Daleks roll across the screen in front of them. Finally Gene got up, uncertain and unsteady, and when he was balanced on his feet, he threw his glass at the screen. It shattered as it went through and broke the TV to hell, and Sam curled up in defense against the flying shards. By the time he looked, Gene was out of the room, and Sam heard him stumbling upstairs into bed.
Sam unfolded from his defensive posture and watched the electrical innards of the television sputter, speechless and mortified. After a few moments he got up and carefully unplugged the television, then stood in the middle of the room. He was floored by the accusation of being a frigid lover; Gene did not use that term but it was obviously what he meant. Sam went and pulled out one of the three remaining photos of Gene with his lover, and looked carefully at them. Two people absolutely abandoned to the sex, their passion and hunger caught on film like a porno. Sam had watched Gene come dozens of times by now, but this look, this expression, was unknown to him. Gene was tamping down everything because of Sam, holding himself in and keeping the sex comfortable…for Sam. What he said at the park made more sense, now, put together with this. Gene was waiting for passion, for something more than mutual hand jobs. The only time Sam could recall that kind of heat between them was from the first week together, their first morning when Gene rutted at him like a mad man possessed, and then the time when he brought Sam to his knees and got him off with his arm twisted behind him. Perhaps that was why Gene loved to do it in the car, because it added the extra thrill that was missing with Sam, and with that thought Sam dropped to the couch, the photo held loosely in his hand. Sam just never really gave him sex, the emotionally raw, hungry, dirty sex of two people in need of each other, because he never allowed himself to need Gene that much; he was not sure he ever could.
“What the hell did you do now?” Gene yelled at him, waking him up as morning drifted in though the curtains.
“Wha’?”
“My telly!” Gene yelled again.
“You broke it!” Sam fought with his blanket as Gene roared at him.
“No! This is some kind of insane Sam Tyler vendetta against electrical equipment! I know what you did to your phone!” Gene was yelling and whirling his arms about the room.
“You don’t remember last night?” Sam sat up, and Gene froze. The picture Sam pulled out the night before was still stilling on the coffee table.
“You bloody fuck. You killed my television in revenge!” Gene walked over and grabbed Sam by the shirt, shaking him mercilessly. Sam was helpless to stop him, still half asleep and always the weaker party, but he finally got a kick in and drove Gene back.
“You will PAY for a new telly!”
“Fine! Fine! I’ll pay for a damn television that YOU broke!”
Gene snorted and stomped into the kitchen. Sam eventually found his bearings and walked in, to find Gene setting out tea for them, as if it was any other morning that Sam spent the night. They sat down and Gene pursed his lips.
“We don’ figure this out, we’ll be lucky to get out of town with our dicks in our hands,” Gene said, sipping his tea, back to the case as if there was no break for interpersonal emotional trauma and television vendettas.
“I know.”
“I got no ideas. We’ll go around today and talk to a few of the boys I know…”
“Oh, like the one in the photograph?” Sam asked bitterly, then closed his eyes. “Never mind, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said.”
“No, you shouldn’ave.” Gene continued with his tea. “…I broke the telly?”
“Yes.” Sam snarled into his cup.
“Why?” Gene looked at him, his chin jutting out.
“…You were mad at the Daleks.”
“Mmmm.” Gene nodded as if this made perfect sense. “Nasty fucks.”
“…You were mad at me.”
Gene studied him, and nodded again. “One and the same.”
“You think I’m frigid.” Sam looked hard at his tea.
“No, I think you are bleedin’ insane and out to destroy humanity in order to advance the cause of the Prissy Hyde Race of Tight Arsed Policemen.” Gene stood up and dumped their tea cups in the sink while Sam puzzled that, to no good end. “Now stop being a div and let’s get to work.” Gene walked out and Sam hustled to follow, with no intention of giving up his interpersonal dialogue.
They were in the car and Sam’s leg was tapping, because he knew it annoyed Gene.
“What?”
“So I’m a frigid lover, and you’re a cheating bastard.”
“Seemed to work out pretty well, I thought…don’t suppose we could keep to business today?” Gene grimaced.
“I feel like calling this whole thing off.”
“Us?” Gene glanced at him.
“Yeah. If there ever was an ‘us.’” Sam tapped the door with his fingers. “What the hell was I thinking?”
“You weren’t.” Gene said quietly as he spun the car through a turn.
“Don’t get soft on me now, you lying son of a bitch. Not like you would’ve owned up if I did not see those photos.”
“Nope. Never.”
“Have your cake and eat it too? Shit…no, this is stupid. It’s off. We’re off. You’re right, time to move on.”
“That what you want?” Gene pulled into an alley and parked. “Is it?” He turned to face Sam. “You got Annie waiting in the wings, so you’ll land soft on her ass. But you better be clear, here, Sam: that what you want?” Gene ground his teeth.
“No! It’s not!” Sam shook his head and closed his eyes, confused. He felt Gene’s hands lock around his neck and drag him into a fierce kiss.
“I’d never tell you about him because I knew ‘ow you’d take it.” Gene pulled back far enough to talk, their faces centimeters apart. “I’m only a man Sam. Some boy offers what you won’t and I can only say ‘no’ so many times.”
“Don’t blame me for your libido.”
Gene shoved him away. “You put me through hell. You won’t go there with me, because to you this is some bloody ‘lifestyle choice,’ it isn’t who you are. But this is what I am, and by god I want my damn cock up your arse and I want you to beg me for it.”
“You only want a ‘boy’ you can shag on demand, and that’s not me,” Sam said and Gene looked genuinely, furiously shocked.
“That what you think?”
“That’s what I know. I’ll never be enough.” Sam threw it like a grenade, and felt only mild satisfaction at the look on Gene’s face. He got out and stood by the car. Eventually Gene got out, but refused to look at him.
“Here.” Gene walked off, removing his gloves. They visited several boys in the area, but still, nothing like a lead, and as they finally broke for lunch, Sam sat down, lost in thought.
“You know all these boys.”
Gene threw down his food. “Not here, Sam.”
“No…no, not here. That’s not what I’m talking about. You know all the blackmail victims, right? From Terry’s parties?”
Gene leaned forward and rested his chin on his hands. “Yeah? What of?”
“And you know pretty much…everyone? In the ‘scene,’ right? All these guys we’re talking to…you’ve known them for a while.”
Gene nodded once. “Small number to know. This isn’t London.”
“But you don’t know many of the men in the photos…the ‘lovers’ the victims were with.”
Gene sat up, comprehension dawning. “No.”
“Even…yours. You know him? For long?”
“Henry? No…new kid. One reason…I knew you didn’ know him. No one knew him.” Gene sat back in his chair. “Damn.”
“So we got some kind of Fagan’s gang? Boys on a hook? Bait the mark, bring him in, get pictures. Some bite, some don’t, but either way you’ve got a stock of photos in the bank.”
“That would be at least five boys. A bloody harem.”
“Any one of them could be the regular photographer for the gang. All we need is the Fagan.”
“Not Terry.”
“No, you’d know, I’d think. He was just the set up; he knew everyone from his parties and could arrange introductions, probably for a cut. How’d you meet…Henry?”
“Ray brought him in.”
Sam stalled in shock. “He’s a prostitute?”
“No. Well, maybe he is…just figured he was a student at the Polytechnic out lookin’ for a good time, got careless and got caught. Ray nicked him good, caught him giving a blow job behind the Warren…”
“You worked out a deal.” Sam sat back and glared at Gene furiously. Gene at least had the grace to look away.
“Som’thin’ like that. Yeah.”
“Brilliant set up, and you took the bait like a starving fish.”
Gene did not answer, and Sam leaned in to whisper. “You know, if you at least cared about him somehow, I could understand, but he was just a convenient piece of ass. I wasn’t even that much, was I?” Sam snarled, sick to his stomach, and shoved the food away and waited for Gene, who stood up without commenting and paid for the meal. Sam stomped out of the place and stood by the Cortina, beyond furious, and trying to focus. On the case. That was the only important thing in his life right now, he convinced himself as Gene got in the car. More important than he would ever be to Gene.
“You’re going to call him and set up a meeting. We’ll nick him and take him in for questioning…”
“Bloody out of your goddamn mind, Sam, the last place we’re bringin’ that kid is the office….he knows my flat. I’ll tell him to meet me there. Simple.”
Sam bit his tongue, nodding in agreement. No one knew they discovered the photos, so at this point it was a safe wager to believe that the kid, and by inference the Fagan, would not be suspicious of Gene’s motives.
Gene called from a phone box and set it up for the late afternoon, apparently a regular time for them, and Sam flashed back on all those times Gene ran vague ‘errands’ before meeting up at the pub. Sam refused to speak to him unless spoken to, and the ride back to the office was cold and despairing. They put in a perfunctory appearance of working on the case and Gene handled a few more issues that came up in the meantime. Sam got with Annie to go over Terry’s appointment book, figuring he might see something she could not, given his more in depth knowledge of the case. Not that he could say anything to her.
“Sam…everything alright?”
“Sure…sure…” Sam answered distractedly, flipping through pages, hating lawyers and their handwriting, and making note of all the times ‘lecture/Polytechnic’ came up. Not often, but enough, and Sam scribbled a note to himself. Annie coughed and he looked at her.
“I mean, after our dinner…just wanted to make sure everything’s still…you know…” She blushed and looked away.
“Annie, it was a great time.” He smiled and laid his hand on hers, but she pulled it away, and he sat staring at his empty hand on the desk.
“Sam…you seeing anyone else?”
Sam stared at her, trying to force himself to say, ‘no, of course not’ but nothing came out. Annie nodded.
“I don’ need to know who she is. I figure between work and Gene you got a lot on your plate, and the way you disappear sometimes…I mean, I don’ got to know, it’s none of my business. But you shouldn’ really be making eyes at me if…you aren’t really interested.” She said it proudly and Sam realized that she had been steeling herself for a while to say it at all.
“I’m sorry, Annie.” He pulled his hand back.
“No, I guess it’s okay. I kind of knew. I hope she loves you…you’re a good guy, Sam.” Annie got up, clearly reaching her limit. She bent down and kissed him on the cheek and walked off, and Sam prayed that she was not going to go cry or anything – he hoped he had not led her on too far, not when he was really in love with someone else.
He put down the file, appalled at the thought. He was going to be damned before he admitted to being in love with that lying, cheating, greedy bastard who was never in love with him. He looked over to Gene’s office and saw Gene reading something, squinting at it angrily, and before Sam could look away Gene glanced up and saw him. Sam jerked his head back down to the appointment diary, and tried to ignore the image of Gene unfolding out of his chair and gracefully, slowly, striding over to his desk like a predator.
“Need to talk?” Gene crossed his arms and stood at attention next to the desk.
“No. Nothing that can’t wait.”
Gene hauled him up and dragged him out and Sam tried to fight him off, but it was useless as always. They landed in Lost and Found, and Gene locked the door while Sam straightened his shirt and corralled his anger for a fight.
“You getting’ on my case while shaggin’ that little tart?” Gene asked, walking into Sam and pushing him up against the shelves.
“Oh crap, no. And don’ talk about Annie like that, you bastard, she’s a good cop.”
“So she just goes around kissin’ you in a professional copper-like way?” Gene kept pushing into him, mostly with his chest, keeping his arms down at his sides.
“No, it was a goodbye kiss. She knows I’m seeing someone else.”
Gene backed off, a worried look on his face. “She know who?”
“No, I’m not that much of an idiot. She thinks it’s another woman, but she knows I’m in love with someone who isn’t her. So we were just…saying goodbye.” Sam crossed his arms and looked away, furious about having to explain this to Gene, who really did not have the right to care.
“What?” Gene was still standing into him, pressing against the arms folded over Sam’s chest.
“You heard me!”
“Are you?”
“Am I what?” Sam angrily pushed Gene back.
“In love with someone else?”
Sam flushed in fury and embarrassment but could not answer. Instead he slammed forward into Gene and threw himself into kissing him. They went at it in Lost and Found a couple of times, but they both knew it was a bad idea. Sam actively discouraged it and Gene never pushed the issue the way he did in the Cortina, but Sam did not care now. He was in love with Gene and he was desperate for him to know it, even if the man never loved him back, and the worst thing in the world to Sam right then was the idea of losing Gene, of Gene needing anyone more then he needed Sam. It broke him apart and he did not know anything to do other than let Gene have him, any part of him, that would convince Gene to stay.
“Sam, not now.” Gene shoved him off as Sam tried to kiss him again.
“Yes, now.” Sam shoved back.
“You’re just jealous. This isn’t about us.” Gene pushed again, harder, and Sam nearly fell over. He got his feet under him and glared at Gene.
“But you want him? More than me?”
“Don’t be daft, he’s a fine piece of ass. Of course I want him…but not more than you. You should bloody well know that by now.”
“But I’m not enough for you?” Sam glared at him, leaning in, but not moving forward.
“Can I win this one?”
“No.”
“Then we’re done.” Gene pushed past him and walked to the door. Sam panicked.
“Wait! What do you mean, ‘done’? Gene!” Sam marched after him, catching him. Gene stopped, looked at him, and then picked him up and slammed him against the shelves, which rattled uncertainly, and Sam coughed in pain.
“I mean done here, you selfish cunt. You want it all for you and you got me but you won’t put out, not in any way a man might appreciate, but I can’t let go of you for all the gold in Her Majesty’s purse. You got me between two walls and I got nowhere to go. So you got me. I’m not going to sit here and ‘dialogue’ about what ain’t gonna change.” Gene was whispering, breathing heavily into his face. “So we’re done here, Sam, in this room, and we’re not goin’ to talk about this again. You win. Take me or leave me, but you win.” Gene spat out the last words and pushed Sam to the floor. Sam scrambled up onto his knees and caught him by the belt and pulled him back.
Gene stumbled a bit at the off-balance attack, reaching out for a shelf to correct himself. Sam used that slight moment to push his face into Gene’s crotch. The smell was nearly overpowering, musky sweat pouring off of Gene at levels Sam never experienced before. Gene backed into the shelves but Sam refused to look at him, instead closing his eyes as he brushed his cheek over Gene’s cock inside his trousers, feeling it plumping up with blood in reaction to Sam’s touch. He rolled his face back and forth over the forming erection, steeling himself, wondering if he could do this, and finally deciding that this was the last place or time he needed to be thinking too much. He focused on Gene and nearly ripped open his trousers, running the zipper down quickly, causing Gene to groan softly as he felt the vibration. He brought out Gene’s cock with shaking hands and looked at it, realizing never in his life did he ever face a penis, to see it up close and hot and the skin drawn so tight. Mapplethorpe may have tried but he never did justice to this. Sam licked it on the underside because he, himself, loved that, and it was almost moving into familiar territory to do things to Gene that he wanted done to him.
The smell was sex: saliva and sweat and pre-cum, all salty and mixed in with Gene’s own musk and Sam drank it in, turned on, but refusing himself. He finally mouthed Gene’s cock and Gene groaned, putting a hand gently behind Sam’s head, startling him so he pulled back.
“No no no…take it!” Gene begged and tugged and Sam’s mouth naturally sank down further, taking in a good two-thirds of Gene’s shaft, balking at going any further. He reached up and wrapped his fingers around the base, pressing down as his mouth slid up and down. Gene’s hips twitched and his grip became fierce but he did not buck, going gently, holding back as always and it pissed Sam off because if Sam were just a goddamn nameless slut Gene would be fucking him into tomorrow by now. He bit.
“Fuck!” Gene tried forcing him off but could not take hold of Sam’s short hair and Sam rode him with his mouth, sucking hard. Gene bent over and grabbed Sam’s head with both hands and started pulling and pushing him, forcing himself deeper into Sam until he almost gagged and could barely breathe. Gene was cursing and thrusting and Sam could not see or hear or feel anything but Gene in his mouth, Gene using him like a whore which was exactly how Sam felt, but it was the most he would ever get from Gene and he took it.
“…You’re goin’ to swallow, you’re goin’ to take it down that bitchy gullet annnnnnn….” Gene lost his breath as it hit him, and Sam felt the now-familiar clinching and shudder that was Gene’s orgasm, and he tried not to gag as his cock hit the back of his throat and exploded, throbbing in his mouth. Tears of exertion rolled down his face as he felt Gene go flaccid, and Sam sat back on the floor, staring up at Gene, who looked more shocked than anything. He did not move, not even to put himself back together, he just gazed at Sam.
“That’s it! Right? Wasn’t that our deal, Gene? That I’d know I’m your bitch when your cock is shoved down my throat?” Sam gasped, leaning forward, finally crying, the tears rolling hard and hot down his face, ashamed of what he had done and terrified that Gene would leave.
He saw Gene put his spent cock back in his pants and zip up, straightening his shirt and tie. Gene kneeled down in front of him. “You’re stupid, Sam. The most stupid, selfish, self-centered ass I’ve ever known. Now pull yourself together.” Gene pulled up on him but Sam did not respond.
“Christ, you’re a sight.” Gene pulled out his handkerchief and began cleaning Sam’s face. Gene stopped and sighed heavily and Sam locked onto his eyes. Gene leaned in, as if to kiss him. “Did you want that, Sam? Did you want my dick your mouth?” Sam did not answer, and Gene pulled back. “Thought not.” Gene threw the handkerchief at him and stood up. “You’re still doin’ it – doin’ ME – because you think you have to. I’m not your bloody job to fill out in triplicate. You don’ want me, then that’s the way it is. An’ I’ll live with it, because I’ll want you until the day I goddamn die.” Gene walked out, leaving his rage and disappointment hanging in the air behind him.
Sam sat in wonderment and shame, knowing he did something wrong for the wrong reasons, but discovering for the first time that he wanted Gene and wanted Gene to want him. As he regained control of his breathing, he knew he did not care, that he was pushing himself to a point where he could not even respect himself or know who or what he was, and nothing seemed to make sense without Gene in the room. He rolled up onto his knees, tearing open his own trousers and pulling out his cock. He braced himself with one hand against the shelves and started fisting himself, breathing hard, punishing himself, wanting it done because the only thing he could think of was the taste of Gene in his mouth. It was hard core sexual arousal and he wanted Gene back there, to see him, to hold him, to do anything to him, but he had done everything wrong and while Gene might never leave – he said as much – he expected nothing from Sam and would keep cheating on him forever, seeking a heat he did not believe Sam held for him because Sam never knew it was there and now did know what to do with it. He had tried for something and did it wrong, out of jealousy and not desire, and only proved Gene’s worst assumptions. Now Gene would never be his, for all that he was Gene’s, or even for all that Gene wanted him. Sam cried as he came hard in an empty room, begging Gene to fuck him.
By the time Sam managed to pull himself together and get out of Lost and Found with a shred of decency, Gene was waiting on him, and Sam refused to look him in the eye. It was nearly time for their rendezvous with Henry at Gene’s flat, and Sam had not looked forward to anything less in his life. Gene let him out of the Cortina few blocks out, just in case his place was being monitored, and drove on. Sam snuck around and lurked behind fences and broke into the back garden. He heard voices in the kitchen and let himself in to find the kid sitting in a chair, angry, with Gene holding him down by the shoulders.
“Henry, meet Sam. Sam, meet the piece of shit prozzie who set me up.” Gene let go and as the kid went to stand up, Gene smashed him with a gut punch that sent him crashing back into the chair.
“Nice to meet you.” Sam leaned against the counter, playing the game, pretending not to care that this young, pretty man with beautiful, long chestnut hair and hazel eyes was Gene’s lover.
“What the fuck, man? Come on!” Henry gasped, clutching his stomach, and Sam felt for him.
“Set me up? Ring a bell?” Gene slapped him. “Photos? Blackmail? Ring a bell?” Gene slapped him again and Sam tried not to flinch. The kid denied everything, and by the time the blood was pouring out his nose Sam was physically pulling Gene off of him.
“YOU will bloody tell us who is running this racket or I WILL pull your bullocks off with my bare ‘ands!” Gene raged as Sam threw himself against him, doing nothing more than slowing his advance.
“Gene! Damnit!” Sam finally got traction on the floor and shoved hard, sending Gene back about a foot. Gene looked down at him, nostrils flaring, then pushed at Sam’s shoulder and stomped out into the garden. Sam turned to Henry.
“Game’s up, Henry. We know you are part of a blackmail ring.” It was a bluff, but it was a safe one, and the kid was dazed enough from Gene’s assault that he might buy it.
“You got nothin’.”
Sam nodded and folded his arms. “Innocent men usually say ‘I’m innocent,’ not ‘you got nuthin’.”
Henry’s head dropped.
“Look, help us, and we can help you.” Sam said, going over to the sink and wetting down a tea towel with hot water. He handed it to the kid, and began wondering when he started sounding so much like the Guv.
“Look…look…I don’ got much, you know, just a student, right? So…so this guy, yeah, he offers me this deal, all I got to do is let the old man do me…”
Sam listened impassively and it took a moment for him to realized that ‘the old man’ in question was Gene. He was very glad Gene was not in the room to prove his virility.
“Stop.”
Henry looked up at him. “I don’ need your sob story. I need the name of the man who shot Terry Franklin.”
“Oh man I swear I don’t know shit about that!”
“You’re in it up to your neck, you might as well help us.”
The boy narrowed his eyes. “Piss off.”
“You think you’re ‘oldin’ any cards here?”
“I’m holdin’ all of them, copper. You’re queer and so’s that fucker out there.” He motioned to the back. “You bring me in and I sing like a bird. That’s why you tricked me here, yeah? I ain’t stupid. You can’t bring me in because I’ll bring you down.” He threw the towel at Sam, who let it drop to the floor. The kid was right, and that meant nothing good. They stared at each other, at an impasse. Suddenly the kid quirked.
“Sam, that your name?”
“DI Tyler to you…”
Gene walked in. “He talk yet?” He crossed his arms and glared at everything equally.
“I think…”
“So he’s your boy, yeah? The one you’re always moaning about when you come.” Henry leaned back in the chair, throwing one arm over the backrest and smiling at Gene in misplaced triumph. Sam barely made it to the kid before Gene was on him in a blinding fury. The chair was broken and Sam had a bloody nose and the kid was thoroughly unconscious by the time Gene was done, kneeling on the floor, hammering at the ground with his fist because Sam was physically curled on top of Henry to protect him. Gene had nothing left to hit and just kept smashing the floor, and Sam was torn between saving the kid’s life and saving Gene’s hand from being fractured. Finally Gene stopped and calmly stood up, massaging his fist as if he just stepped out of the boxing ring. Sam rolled over, keeping one protective arm over Henry, and looked up in awe. Gene, inspired, was a tremendous power and possibly the most frightening person Sam ever met…and deadly.
“You can’t kill the kid, Gene.”
“But I can goddamn try.” He kicked at Henry’s legs as he walked past him.
“He needs medical attention!” Sam yelled as Gene disappeared into the other rooms. Furious, he got on his knees to roll Henry over and did a quick check. Heart beat was strong and regular, and his breathing seemed unimpaired, and nothing looked broken. That could hide a lot of internal damage, and Sam felt his own ribs because standing between Gene and his target was a good way to get smashed for your troubles.
Gene stomped back in and Sam moved to cover Henry.
“Not goin’ to touch him. He need a doctor?”
Sam looked up and realized that Gene had run his head under a sink tap, letting the water run down him without drying off, his hair slicked back and dripping. His right hand was wrapped in what might once have been a scarf and his shirt was wet from the ministrations and plastered to his skin. He was majestic and Sam just stared, willing away a hard-on.
“What?” Gene glared back. “Don’t get preachy on me now. Just tell me if he needs a doctor.”
Sam shook himself. “He might.”
Gene walked over and picked up his phone. “Harris 256…David? Gene…Yeah. Need a favor…no, my place. Bring yer kit…don’t park out front…yeah, like that…fuckin’ fairy, I’ll ream you up…yeah, good. Fifteen.” He hung up. “Doctor’ll be here in fifteen minutes.” Gene walked out again.
Fifteen minutes later, the most fabulously gay man Sam ever met in his life floated through the back door. He was skinny and tall and angular, not particularly handsome but he wore an impeccable, tailored pin striped suit with a lime green handkerchief poking out the pocket.
“Ohhhh Genie! I’m home darling!” He yelled out and then looked down. “Blimey.” He dropped his doctor’s bag on the floor and bent over to inspect Henry. “Christ, love, what’d you two do?” He looked at Sam critically and Sam went rigid in indignation.
“It was Gene!”
“’Course it was, Princess. You’re not butch enough to do this.” He waved his hand over the kid on the floor. Then he promptly ignored Sam and focused on Henry and Sam realized, watching him, that he was really a doctor.
“Is he alright?” Sam asked, pulling himself up, gasping from the pain in his chest, and reaching to the counter for a rag to wipe off his own bloody face.
“Mmmm…hard to say. Vitals seem good. Eye’s dilated…mmm…” He reached in the bag and pulled out a small vial, and waved it under the kid’s nose. “Wakey wakey, sweet heart! Honeymoon’s over!”
Sam winced.
Henry was dazed and bruised, but nothing was fractured and nothing was seriously wrong. The doctor worried about a concussion, and decided to take Henry with him back to the hospital.
“No, David, can’t do it.” Gene appeared from nowhere in the doorway and Henry made to get away from him.
“Love you too, Genie, but you beat him ‘alf to death. Hospital.” David pushed Henry back down with an authority belied by his feminine manners.
“David, he’s a suspect in a crime. No can do.”
“Then take him down to the station and have one of your adorably fit young men in uniform watch him.” David waved his hand as he packed up his medical kit.
“David.” Gene lowered his voice and the doctor turned to him.
“You are such a flirt when you try to act butch.” David said dismissively, and Sam tried not to snort in laughter. “Unless you want to beat the crap out of me too, and without handcuffs you know I put up a fight, I have to insist this boy is monitored for the next 24 hours. By someone.”
“David, you heard of any blackmail going on out there? Of us?”
David stopped packing up and turned to him, worried. “Mmmmhmmm. Rumors.”
“Kid’s in on it.” Gene motioned towards Henry, who was dizzy and terrified and still trying to scoot away from Gene.
David frowned as he pushed the kid back to horizontal with a strong arm.
“How long you goin’ to last at the hospital, David, if this boy starts talkin’? He’s part of a ring; they got dirt on everyone, seems like, and Sam and I have only touched the surface of it.”
“You know how to sweet talk a girl…fine, you can keep him here and I’ll come ‘round in the morning to check on him.” David looked over at Sam. “An’ you; time to check you out.”
“Not yours, David…”
“Oh for Christ sake Gene I’m a doctor, I can keep my dick in my pants long enough to see how badly you tore this one up.” David said angrily, and Gene snorted.
“I’m fine, a bit…aiiii!” Sam stepped back as David put his cold hands on his neck for the pulse. He stood still while David inspected him clinically, gasping when he prodded his ribs.
“Cracked a rib, maybe, but that’s the worst of it. You’re fine. No strenuous exercise…” He turned his gaze to Gene in the doorway. “…Gene.”
“What?” Gene tried to look innocent.
“I mean it. No gymnastics. You can give him a blow job for a change.”
“We aren’t together,” Sam said, too loudly, and Gene froze.
David turned back and raked him over. “Sounds lovely, then, Princess. My place, seven o’clock, bring the wine. Red.”
“We’re right in the middle of a case…” He motioned weakly towards Henry on the floor, wondering if that was the best excuse he could come up with. Gene glared at him in fury, which for once did not encourage his creativity under pressure.
“I’m sure Gene can handle him, if he hasn’t already,” David said carelessly, closing up his medical kit. “And I give fantastic blow jobs; will make you feel like a new man, and I could certainly use a new man.” He handed Sam a personal card, not a professional one, smiled, and then left before Gene could rip him apart.
“You call that number, Sam, and you won’t have a dick left to be a man with.”
“If I call this number, it will be to tell him to pick up your body for the morgue.” Sam shoved the card into his jacket pocket.
“You fucks are insane,” Henry said, looking up at them.
They ended up sitting on him for two days. They switched out ‘shifts’ and made lame excuses about why they were calling out or ‘following up leads’. Henry was not up to fighting his way out, and he was in livid terror of Gene, so played along but was otherwise completely uncooperative. They handcuffed him to the horrible, rickety guest bed most of the time, in any case. Sam did what he could of a background check, but nothing local came up, and while the school administrators cooperated as best they could lacking a warrant in their faces, there simply was not much to go on. Henry was from Blackburn and lived in Manchester for nearly two years, going to school and working part time at a furniture store. He lived in a dorm room so there was no getting into that, short of breaking in, which Gene was more than willing to do and had to be talked out of several times every hour.
David visited once the first day when Gene was babysitting but late on the second day, it was Sam’s turn.
“Wondered when I’d get you alone.” David smiled suggestively.
Sam put down the book he was reading. “Unless you missed the suspect handcuffed to the bed, we are not alone.”
“You two can fuck, don’t mind me,” Henry said grumpily as David checked his eyes.
“We might, so open your mouth for daddy.” David inspected his mouth. “Well no loose teeth, so after this I’m signing off on you, you dirty little whore. You can go back to the streets and get rogered in peace.”
“I’m not a whore.”
“Mmm. Neither am I, just get paid to stick my fingers up grown men’s arses. Study hard and someday you to can be a proctologist.”
Sam stared. “You are not a proctologist.”
“Noooo, just a hobby.” David sighed dramatically and walked over to Sam. “Want to play doctor?”
“Thanks for the offer. No.” Sam put the book back up. David tapped it.
“Need to talk.” He actually looked serious. Sam cast a quick glance at Henry, making sure the handcuffs were still locked, then got up and led David down the hall.
“I know this boy.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “You and Gene share him?” He folded his arms and gave his most critical stare. David looked confused.
“No, silly, I wouldn’t touch that trash with gloves on. And Gene’s picky, only takes on the prima donnas…” David’s eyes carefully rolled up and down Sam. “But get your filthy mind out of the gutter, we can talk dirty later. I’m telling you, I know that boy.”
“From Terry’s parties?”
“No. I remember him at the hospital.”
“Doesn’t the school have a medical clinic?”
“Mmmm, yes, and it’s perfect if you get a hangnail. Serious cases get transferred to the hospital.”
“You remember him as a patient?”
“That’s the thing, dear, no; he was there as a visitor.”
“You remember all the visitors who show up?” Sam asked critically, and David patted his chest affectionately. Sam looked down at his hand with displeasure, but David simply did not care.
“Of course not! No, but this was memorable; had to do with another student who committed suicide. Massive scene, the family hauling your boy out, security was called in, just a huge fuss.”
“And you remember this because…?”
“The dead boy was queer.”
“And you found this out in the post mortem?” Sam crossed his arms and rolled his eyes, and David slapped him across the face. Sam stared at him in shock.
“You can insult me ten ways to hell, boy, but don’t take my job in vain. I’m a professional, I went to college for ten years to get my degree. I may be light on my feet but I’m a goddamn doctor.” David pointed at his face, not furious, but fierce. “The dead boy was my patient, died on the table, and I don’t forget that, ever. I remember every patient who has died on me and I’ll wear that list on my chest when they lower me into the ground. That boy committed suicide just to spite me and everyone he left behind. His parents would not even view his body, would not walk into that room with a gun at their backs.” David retreated and crossed his arms. “Your mum may love you but I know what it looks like for a mother to disown her flesh and blood, and that’s what it was. Your boy in there was the only one who really seemed give a damn and they had security throw him out of the building. That boy was queer, and I’ll lay odds that our sweet little Henry there was his boyfriend. Now I don’t know if that got anything to do with this, but I felt you should know.” David uncrossed his arms and set his hands on his hips dramatically. “Should’ve waited to tell Gene.”
“No, no, it’s good that you told me. Look, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”
“I don’t care what you meant.” David inspected him, but Sam did not know what he was looking for.
“This might prove useful,” Sam said, meaning it. David nodded in a professional way, and Sam turned to walk back to the spare room. David reached out and grabbed his arm, pulling him back. Sam pushed him off.
“Not interested.”
“Understood, Princess, and your loss I might add. But I want to know. You with Gene or not?”
“Oh Christ, what’s that to do with anything?”
“I’ve known him for a long time.”
“Oh? What? School chums?”
“Yes, sweet heart, school chums. Same year. I know I look fabulous but then I don’t drink my weight in whiskey every month.” David crossed his arms again and Sam stared at him in shock, realizing that David did have some wrinkles around his eyes. He was speechless. “I’ll take that open mouth gape as surprise and not an invitation.”
Sam nodded and closed his mouth.
“I was the doctor he called when Mark went down the stairs. Those stairs.” David pointed to the stairwell next to them. “I’m also the one he called when his wife suffered her first miscarriage. God damn blessing if you ask me, bitch was hell on him. But the fact is I’ve known him a damn sight longer than you. So I’m asking, you with Gene or not?”
Sam felt that he had no choice but to answer, given the history this man had with Gene, but he was not happy about it. “No. I don’t think so.”
David waved a hand at him. “Fine. But the man loves you, and you better consider that.”
Sam leaned forward and did his best not to snarl. “He’s a lying, cheating bastard.”
“Not Gene.” David shook his head with complete conviction.
“The hell he didn’t…with that!” Sam pointed to the spare room where Henry was trapped.
David looked surprised, then stepped back further. “Gene’s talked about you since the day you walked into his world. The sun sets on your pretty face, as far as he’s concerned, and I don’t believe for a second that man would do anything to lose you…”
“Lose me? Lose ME?” Sam finally had enough. “What about what I’ve lost? Or maybe what I never had to begin with! Think on that, if you’re so damn concerned with our relationship!”
“From the way he tells it, Princess, you aren’t even there to lose anything….ooooooh, so that’s it, then? You play? Get around, do you? Gene not good enough? Too rough for your sensitive, blue-blood arse?” David was furious, and suddenly he looked like a beautiful man from the wrong side of town who grew up the hard way, who like Gene took his knocks and made a better life but could never live down his past. Sam had stepped into a boys club that went far, far deeper than sexual orientation, and he wanted to step back out, quickly. He opened his mouth to protest the accusations, but David slashed the air between them with his hands.
“No! I don’t want to hear it! Gene’s always been a fool, following the damn rainbow and landing tarts like you…” He pulled himself together and shook his head, as if to clear it. “Lovely, no wonder he’s had me checking for VD…and oh, Christ, you dump that man and half the city will be bloody and bruised…what I go through on his behalf…” David raised his hands in supplication to the ceiling.
Sam was seething and wanted to strangle him, but managed to keep to yelling. “Know what? This isn’t your business. You’re done here, so leave.” Sam turned and walked away. David left without saying another word and Sam sat down in the chair, grunting in aggravation. He tried reading his book again but all he could think about was who else Gene had talked to about him, and what he was saying, and why one of Gene’s oldest and obviously closest friends – who he somehow never actually bothered to introduce to Sam – was so protective of the adulterous bastard. He decided that if nothing else, he should be grateful that Gene was getting regular check ups, but that did not shake the nervous specter of AIDS, which was due to hit hard in a few years, even if no one was going to recognize it at the time. Sam would, and he chilled to the idea of it taking down Gene. Or, by proxy, himself. He put the book aside completely, mad about David’s completely ass-backwards assumptions and furious at Gene for putting their damn lives on the line just for sex. Sam looked over at Henry and could not purge the image of the kid being fucked by Gene here in this house. It did not matter what Gene told anyone about him or what precautions he took or even if Gene really did love him, because Gene was only about taking all he could grab. Sam had no hold on him, no power to claim him, and no authority in their relationship to demand anything.
Henry spoke up and broke his reverie. “How fuckin’ long I’m going to be here?”
“I don’t know.”
“What?” Henry recoiled.
“You’re part of an ongoing investigation. You’re not cooperating, and we have no other leads. You’re here for a while.”
“What happens to me?”
Sam looked at him questioningly, somewhat disinterested in Gene’s lover’s angst.
“You guys can’t let this get out. Even if you find the murderer, even if you do, you can’t bring him in, not if he knows about our operation.” Henry scooted nervously on the bed. He obviously had been considering these matters for a while. Sam let him stew, thinking that they were on the verge of getting something useful out of him. “Look I was doing it for the money, right? That’s it. Just some extra cash, you know, get laid and get paid without bein’ a whore. I mean I got to chose my target, you know, so…”
“What do you mean, you got to chose?”
“Well they gave me photos of the marks. I picked…him.” Henry jutted his chin out to the hallway, as if Gene were out there listening in.
“Interesting choice.”
“Hey, the others were worse. At least Hunt fucks like a man.”
Sam glared at him, and forced himself back to the subject. “Who showed you the photos? Who was your contact?”
“Another student at the Polytechnic. Named Jimmy. We met at Brothers…you know, the bar…”
“I know the place…can you arrange a meeting with him?”
“I don’ know. After that dude got shot, everything kind of scattered.”
“You know Terry Franklin?”
“Sure, course.”
“From?”
“He gives guest lectures on legal ethics in business. Everyone knows him. And he likes the boys, so, you know…”
“Feeding ground.”
“Sure. Not like you don’t eye the new recruits on the force, yeah?” Henry grinned as if they were sharing a joke, and Sam frowned. “Look I don’ know him other than that, I swear. I jus’ assumed he was in on it, because of what happened after he kicked it. The whole operation folded up. I haven’t talked to anyone since then.”
“I want you to set up a meet with Jimmy.”
“Never thought I’d live to say this, man, but anything to get my arse out bed.” He shook the handcuffs.
Henry used the phone and set up the meeting for later that night at a diner. Sam called the office to talk to Gene, and gave him a short version of events, leaving out what David told him. He wanted to make sure Henry was not privy to that conversation; Sam did not know what significance David’s information had, but it rang bells that Gene would tell him to listen too, and Sam wanted to share that confidence in person.
When Gene got home Sam briefed him professionally in the kitchen while Gene heated up a tin of some kind of mashed meat, and Sam tried not to notice the smell.
“Don’t think it matters much, who the kid used to fuck.”
“Fine, just thought you should know. David thought it was important and wanted me to tell you.”
Gene looked Sam over as if inspecting for damage. “David wants a lot.”
Sam glared at him from his perch in the far corner. “According to you I don’ put out anyway, so not much he could want from me.”
“There’s a way to solve that problem.”
“And you found it, he’s upstairs handcuffed to the bed. Want me to give you two some alone time?”
Gene slammed his silverware down on the counter and leaned against it, closing his eyes, angry and tense. “…will you ever let that go?”
Sam wanted to be spiteful, and say ‘no’ and yell at Gene, and he knew he had the right. He wanted to hurt Gene, but something in the way the man was standing -- as if holding himself up, readying himself for an attack but not to fight back -- stopped him.
“Sorry. You aren’t mine and I don’t have the right.” Sam tapped his head against the wall, closing his eyes. He did not hear Gene moving or breathing at all. “Look, the kid…Henry has set up a meet with his contact, Jimmy. Tonight, nine o’clock. He’s been acting weird about it since he made the call, I’d say he’s worried or nervous.”
Gene pulled out a chair and sat down. Sam looked at him. He was the picture of thoughtful relaxation, leaning back, lighting a cigarette, his legs set out in front of him and crossed at the ankles. “It’s a plan. More than anything else we’ve come up with. Ray and Chris are spinning circles and we aren’t doin’ much better. We’ll take Henry there, and see what happens. Worse come’s to worse, we’ll grab his contact too.”
“This keeps up we’ll run out of beds to handcuff them too.” Sam laughed. “You’ll have your own harem.” Sam laughed again, walking away from the wall towards the table, towards Gene, feeling relaxed for a moment and enjoying the joke. Then Gene looked at him.
“Got what I want.”
It was a fixed stare, and Sam met it, flushing, remembering his desperate need in the Lost and Found, but he stalled on what to do. Gene threw his cigarette down and pushed the table out of his way as he marched into Sam, grabbing his shoulders. He pulled and Sam fell into the kiss, desperate for Gene’s warmth and desire, wanting to draw everything out of Gene and take it for himself. He ran his hands over Gene’s chest, hard, feeling for muscle and bone, and Gene let out a choking groan that Sam had never heard before, Gene’s tongue reaching for something new. Sam pushed his hands around to Gene’s back and began dragging Gene into him, leaning backwards to force Gene into chasing their kiss. Gene was off balance but Sam kept tugging on the larger man, trying to bring him down and they crashed to the floor.
“Damn!” Gene pulled up an arm in pain.
“Sorry…sorry…”
“You’re always sorry, damnit…”
Sam rolled up to a sitting position. He had wanted something, desperately, but he did not know what and he did not know why he dragged Gene down or what to do with him. He was aroused but it was not particularly about sex, and it was obviously not a desire for a deep introspective discussion, and between those poles was not much of anything to do on the floor. He looked at Gene, who was nursing his elbow, then shook his head and got up. Gene did not stop him or even try, only stared mutely at him as Sam walked out to go back up to baby sit Henry.
They did not talk again until it was time to let Henry lose and drive to the diner. Henry was definitely nervous, and surprisingly cowered near Gene most of the time. Gene let him, and Sam thought that it was probably second nature for that alpha male to just play daddy all the time. It annoyed him, but he understood it. He remembered feeling that way once, when ‘alpha’ was a commodity he enjoyed among his peers, when the name DCI Sam Tyler meant leadership and authority and power. Now he was what, a boy toy? No, not even: boy toys put out. Sam was more of a kept pet, something Gene played with and said he loved but did not respect any more than the boy glued to his side now. As he thought of it that way, the more riled he got at Henry for shuffling close to Gene, and the madder he got at himself for caring.
They parked blocks away, just in case, and Gene and Sam separated to cover the front and back entrances to the place while Henry grabbed a table. Sam showed his warrant badge to the waitress and she let him go through the back storage area and set himself up next to the door. There was no way for Gene to be inconspicuous so he lurked in an alleyway across the street.
Right at nine a young college student walked up the sidewalk carrying a box. He was stocky and fair, with very pink cheeks and a lost expression, and Sam had a hard time envisioning this almost-child as a blackmailing ring mastermind. A courier, maybe, and certainly a good piece of bait for the right man. He sat down with Henry and they talked, then got up to leave. Henry cast a furtive glance at Sam, who waited just a moment before following them. They took a right out of the door, and Sam was not ten paces behind them when the gun went off. Sam stalled in confusion, wondering who was shooting and where, and in that moment both kids broke and ran. Sam went for Henry, but the boy was younger and faster and had some idea of where he was going. Sam lost him two blocks over and limped back, still not fully recovered from his blisters of earlier in the week. He found Gene red faced and furious, standing outside the diner, alone.
“They both got away?” Sam yelled as he walked up.
“Don’t see you got yours either!” Gene yelled back.
“You got the fat one!”
“He had a motorcycle! Less you want me to grow wheels!”
“You are not HALF the truck Optimus Prime was!” Sam yelled louder, then realized what he said as Gene stared at him in massive confusion.
“What bloody hell car is that? Italian?”
“Oh fuck off!” Sam threw his arms up and limped to the Cortina, wishing it was BumbleBee and could beat the crap out of Gene for him.
They stewed in their failure back to Gene’s house and continued to stew in Gene’s living room as Gene poured them both doubles. Sam swirled his drink.
“Tomorrow we’ll go sack Henry’s dorm room, and see if we can get a last name for Jimmy.”
Gene nodded in displeasure and agreement, staring at the spot where his television used to sit.
“Jimmy brought the gun; did you see what happened? Was he trying to shoot Henry?” Sam wrinkled his nose as he looked up at Gene.
“They were talking and Jimmy opened the box and the next thing, the gun was going off.”
“Crap.” Sam slugged his drink and stood up. Gene eyed him. “I’m goin’ home. The car I’m using is parked out back, I’ll drop it at headquarters and walk to my flat.”
Gene looked back at his drink. “That what you want.”
Sam shook his head, indicating that he simply did not want to talk about it. “We’ll meet in the office in the morning, and start over. We’ve got something to go on; we’ll find Henry, if nothing else. He’s middle class and young, won’t know how or where to hide.”
This earned him a brief nod from Gene, who would not look at him, and with that Sam left. There was some logic to his staying, but it was a point of pride for him now. He wanted to walk back in and strip Gene down and make love to him, whatever that might entail, but he could not allow himself to give in to anyone who did not respect him. He left the flat horny and desperate, and angry.
In the morning he walked into CID and caught up a bit on how little headway was being made on the case by everyone else, and went to review Terry’s appointment book again, and waited for Gene to show up so they could go search Henry’s dorm room. By nine am, Sam was furious, and stomped out, nearly shoving Chris into a desk as he threw on his jacket. He took the car back out, and drove to Gene’s, figuring Gene drank himself into oblivion and probably was not even awake yet.
Sam tried to open the front door but it was chained shut, which was highly unusual. He rattled the door and suddenly Henry was there, looking at him through the crack. Sam stalled, in shock.
“What…?”
“He’s asleep.”
“What are…you ran!” Sam began leaning into the door.
“Jimmy tried to shoot me, man! Sure I ran! Came back here!” Henry leaned against the other side so it became a shoving match with the door between them.
“Open the door, I need to talk to Gene…”
“I told you, man, he’s asleep.” Henry glared at him and that was when Sam realized the kid was in his boxers and a tee shirt, his hair mussed and looking for all the world like he just crawled out of bed himself. Sam stepped back in shock.
“I still need to speak with him.” Sam dropped into professionalism, sinking every emotion into being a cop.
“I’ll tell him when he wakes up.”
“He just decided to take a mid morning nap?” Sam frowned, trying desperately to keep from slamming the door down.
Henry did not try to hide his grin. “Summat like that. Wore himself out…look, you can go wake him if you want…” Henry reached up to unchain the door, and Sam grabbed the chain.
“No. Just tell him to call Sam at work.”
“Sure.” Henry nodded noncommittally as Sam turned to walk away. “An’ hey…I’m on your side on this, you know. I was just…playing along for a few quid. I don’ need this to get out any more than you do.” Henry called after him, but Sam refused to turn around.
He was bothered by everything, though, and not just Gene’s libido. Henry might be cooperating, for what that was worth, but something was wrong with the whole situation. Sam did not have the ‘gut instinct’ that Gene possessed, though, and he really did want to talk to Gene about the case, but Gene was too busy fucking their only lead. Sam sat in the car and counted to fifty-five before his blood pressure was low enough for him to drive the car without shaking.
Sam went to do exactly what he should have let Gene do four days ago, and sacked Henry’s dorm room. He did not have a warrant and he decided he did not need one, not while Henry was busy being shagged by Gene, and he bluffed his way past the young and probably stoned dorm matron with frightening ease. He got into the tiny room and was pulling apart the chest of drawers when Jimmy walked in, carrying the same small box he had the night before.
It was not much of a chase, because Jimmy was late off the mark, too surprised and confused to know what was going on. Sam hauled him back into the dorm room and tossed him onto the bed, pulling out his badge.
“Hey! It was Henry’s idea, okay?”
Sam stopped, surprised, because he had not even asked any questions yet.
“What was?”
“The whole gun thing. He had me bring it cause he said you guys were goin’ to nick us both, and it was just a distraction so we could hoof it, yeah? An’ I was supposed to meet him here, he said you guys didn’ know where he lived…” Jimmy held out the package that he brought with him. “Look I don’ want any trouble. Now that Terry’s dead, it’s just over and if my parents see any of these photos I’ll end up like Phil.”
Sam shook his head, far behind the ball. “Phil?”
Jimmy kept holding out the box, but scrunched his eyebrows together. “Look, I know you. From the photos. You’re…safe, right?”
Sam nodded. “Sure. If you’ve seen the photos, I can’t really deny it.” While ‘I can’t deny it’ was hardly the ‘I’m here and I’m queer’ battle cry, it still felt odd to own up that completely.
Jimmy only nodded, though, relieved to be talking to one of his own kind, and Sam felt sorry for him and angry at himself. “Phil was Henry’s boyfriend. They were tight, you know? Then Phil met Terry through his parents – rich, yeah? All hang out at the tennis club – and they cooked up this whole blackmail thing. It was just for fun, really, at least…well, it wasn’t meant to get this serious. Terry saw the money coming in and wanted to push it, and Phil argued, so Terry threatened to send photos of Phil and one of the marks to Phil’s folks, and they fought, and Phil called his bluff and…”
“…Phil committed suicide.” Sam finished, leaning against the door frame.
Jimmy nodded. “I thought Henry was going to kill Terry, but he didn’t…”
Sam flinched, but kept listening.
“Henry got this idea to go after one of the cops. We tried to talk him out of it, but he wanted some kind of leverage with, er, you. That was just too much for me so I backed out. That’s why I’m here. To give Henry the rest of the photos and the negs…I did all the development, I’m in the photography program here.” He held out the box again. “I was trying to turn them over at the diner but he told me to hold them, and…well…look, please, just let me walk away from this. I’ve got one term left ‘til I graduate, then I’m heading south, leaving this damn city. Okay?”
“Terry was murdered, Jimmy. No one can walk away from that.”
Jimmy put the box down and paled, closing his eyes in fear and frustration. “That was Henry, man, I know it was. That gun is his, and he wanted him dead. I don’t know for sure, but I swear, I bet it was.”
“I’m taking you down to the station. You’re not going to talk to anyone about this, and we’re going to put the photos in a safe place. But until I know exactly what ‘appened, I can’t let you walk.”
Defeated, Jimmy just nodded. Sam snapped up. “Wait, the gun is Henry’s?”
“Yeah.”
“You don’t have it?”
“No! No way, man, no way. Hate that shit, I’m a pacifist. Gave him the gun back as we dashed out.” Jimmy shook his head so hard, his hair flew around him.
Sam never moved so fast in his life. He dragged Jimmy to the car and stashed the box of photos in the boot. He drove like a bat out of hell to the station, which was in between the school and Gene’s place anyway, and dropped Jimmy off with Phyllis, giving her some vague reason to hold the kid, who was more than willing to be held safely in the bowels of the station once he realized what exactly was going on. Sam basically stole a gun from the armory and when he came back up front, he called Gene’s place from the lobby phone as Jimmy was processed, but no answer. He took off as Phyllis yelled at him and made record time to Gene’s flat.
The Cortina was gone, and the place was empty.
Sam stomped through it, looking for anything, and finally found something: blood. Not a lot, just a bit smeared on the floor of the kitchen, so he was relieved at least to know that Gene was not shot. Yet. However it meant that Sam had no idea where they were. He cursed himself for being stupid, knowing that Henry had played him perfectly earlier. Gene could have already been in the boot of the car by then, or at the very least somehow restrained inside the house, while Sam played girly jealous bitch at the front door. He kicked the cabinets, then kicked them again, and then the phone rang. He knew who it was before he picked up the receiver.
“Yes.” Sam spat.
“Thought you’d come back. Ready to negotiate?”
“No. You’re turning yourself in and giving me DCI Hunt, unharmed.”
“Bullshit, man, ain’t ‘appening. I’m getting out, an’ this old fuck is my free pass.”
“Nothin’ free here, Henry. I know you killed Terry. Even without the blackmailing, you’re goin’ to jail; I’ve got Jimmy and he’s happy to point the finger at you.”
“Don’t matter what he points where, I ain’t goin’ to be here.”
“You got nothin’, Henry.”
“I got the old man, and you’ll do anything to get him back.”
“I’m willing to talk, but don’t try to play me.”
“Playing you is too easy…” Henry hissed into the phone. “Not like we didn’t get it on when you weren’t around, anyway. Handcuff me to the bed? You couldn’t have set that up better without an invitation and some lube.”
Sam was on the verge of denying it, but he could not. He believed Gene might, and in that hesitation, everything fell apart.
“Right. So this is how it’s going. I’ll give you the old man, you get me a car and 500 pounds.”
“Not greedy, are you?”
“Look I know when a plan’s gone sour. All I need is enough to move on with. I’m a reasonable guy, yeah?” Henry laughed, but Sam knew it was hollow. The boy’s request was the last ditch demand of a man with nothing to lose or gain, desperate to flee. It was not about the money, and with Henry, it probably never was.
“Won’t bring Phil back.”
There was a long pause. “Shut up.”
“Won’t bring him back, Henry. Give this up. Work with me, and I can try to ‘elp you…”
“Shut up! You think a jury’s goin’ to go soft on a fag who shot the man who outed my lover? I know where I stand here. No, you’re listenin’ to ME.”
Sam did not answer, and Henry gave him the address of an old factory building where they would meet. He gave Sam two hours to come up with the car and cash, but Sam did not bother. There was no neat way out of this, but giving in to the kid’s demands was not even an option. He knew Gene would agree, even if part of his own mind did not. He drove to the meeting place, knowing the kid was probably already there, just waiting for him. He parked down the road and snuck in as best he could, and found the Cortina in the loading dock area. As he crept in, he saw Henry sitting on the floor, gun in his hand, facing Gene. Gene’s hands were handcuffed in front of him, and it looked like his legs were tied up so he was hobbled. They were staring at each other viciously, but not talking.
“Henry, give it up.” Sam walked out, the gun level, but the kid was stupid and inexperienced and did not know when someone got the drop on him. He started then raised his gun to Gene. Sam cursed under his breath.
“No! Did you bring the money?”
Sam thought for a second, then shrugged at Gene in apology. “No.”
“Fuck!” Henry got up, keeping the gun on Gene, and went to walk behind him. At that point Gene hurled himself at the kid, sending him sprawling, and the gun skittered out of his grasp across the floor. Sam ran forward and went for the other gun, just to get it out of Henry’s reach, but he registered that the kid was not bothering to chase it. Sam turned to raise his weapon, but not in time. Henry already had a knife at Gene’s throat.
“Henry, there is absolutely no way out of this. Put down the knife!” Sam yelled, frustrated at the insanity of the boy. Gene was quiet, staring at Sam.
“Just drop it!” Henry held the knife closer against Gene’s throat and Sam wavered.
“Henry, don’t do this…we can work something out…”
“Yeah! And what we’re goin’ to work out is a way for me dip out of this fuckin’ city!”
“Got nowhere to go, Henry. Jimmy’s talking and we’ve got all the pictures.”
“Shoot!” Gene finally yelled at him, rattling his hands in the handcuffs.
Henry started at that, a look of panic dropping into his eyes. “That was it all along, yeah? Shoot me, because you fuckin’ queers can’t let me get out alive, I know too much! You knew you’d ‘ave to kill me! Well do it! Shoot! Maybe I won’t slit his neck on the way down!”
Gene held still, breathing in anger and frustration as Henry pressed the knife again, this time drawing blood, a small bead no more than a paper cut would give. Gene’s face winced but otherwise he did not move. Sam saw Henry whispering into his ear and Gene flushed, his eyes sparkling fury.
“You got it in for him, Henry, or are you trying to get out of here? Make up your mind!” Sam yelled, trying to distract him from whatever revenge fantasy he had going on with Gene. Henry was startled and looked at Sam. “Walk away from him, and I’ll put down the gun…”
“Sam!” Gene yelled angrily.
“…just walk, Henry, walk out.” Sam crouched down, letting the gun spin on his finger, setting it out away from his body.
“Bloody fuck, Sam!” Gene roared as the gun met the ground and Sam backed away from it, losing his only advantage.
“Now you can go. No one is going to kill you…”
“Until I get my bloody ‘ands on your neck!” Gene turned to yelling at Henry, as yelling at Sam was not having the desired effect. Henry stalled. “Go on! Run! See how far you get! GO ON!” Gene ranted and Sam stood by as Henry fumbled for what to do. He really was a kid, maybe legal but not experienced in any way with the life he was in the middle of, and certainly no match for the unbridled horrific fury of Gene Hunt. Sam could not pray for a better distraction and started walking straight for Henry.
He spun as he realized Sam was coming up on him, and lunged. Sam heard Gene yelling behind them. Henry was younger and bit heavier, and far more desperate than Sam, but Sam had training on his side – rusty, out of practice training but it was there and it kicked in as he struggled with Henry, keeping the knife at bay as he worked to subdue him. Henry got in a lucky shot, his knee to Sam’s kidneys, and as Sam rolled up in pain Henry struck out with the knife. Sam saw it coming down on him, a slashing stroke aimed for his neck, and he threw out a protective arm but too late, and Henry fell backwards, dropping the knife as the gunshot echoed off the walls.
Sam looked over and saw Gene, still hobbled on his knees and in handcuffs, holding the gun, a look of terror on his face. He moved his gaze to Sam and fell back to sit on his feet, relief washing over him, and he dropped the gun.
“Thought you copped it.”
“I did. He dropped me.” Sam pulled himself up, rubbing his back. “You now get to…ugh…glory in your heroism, and ride off into the sunset while violins play and all the women’s breasts heave.” Sam crept over to Gene, limping and grimacing.
“You really know how to destroy a man’s pride, Sam.” Gene rolled to land on his hip and then sprawled backwards. Sam sat down next to him, grunting in pain. Gene looked up at him. “You got the keys for these, yeah?” He held his captive hands up.
Sam smiled in petty triumph. “No.”
Gene was still handcuffed when the plods and the rest of CID and the reporters showed up, and a legend was made of a handcuffed and hobbled Gene taking down the psychopathic pervert killer single handedly. Gene willingly agreed with this version of events, and Sam was past caring.
When he got back to the station he released Jimmy, and escorted him out of the building.
“Henry’s dead, Jimmy. He was threatening DCI Hunt’s life, and he tried to kill me.” Sam explained as they sat on the steps, plods and civilians walking by them, oblivious.
Jimmy nodded, in shock.
“I got to fill out paperwork on this, but I think we can keep your name out of it. You won’t be called in for questioning.” Sam rubbed his hands together.
“Thanks, Inspector.” Jimmy looked down. “Better deal than I deserve, I guess.”
“Yeah, it is.” Sam pursed his lips, unhappy, but the boy’s role was not worth ruining his life over. “But you can help me a bit, here.”
“How?”
“Terry choose the marks?”
“Yeah. He and Phil, together, they knew everyone. So Terry chose the marks and Phil brought us in as bait…I was the photog most of the time. I did all the development. Most of the other guys just enjoyed some shagging and cash on the side.”
“Why Hunt?”
“You know, that was all Henry. After Phil died, like I said, he got squirrelly. He hooked up with Hunt before we knew you were in the mix, and then…Henry just kind of considered it icing on the cake, you know, Hunt with two boys, best dirt ever on a cop.” Jimmy shrugged, but looked embarrassed.
“How did the transfer go down? Of the photos?”
“…I’d develop them in batches, seal them up in an envelope and deliver them to his office like some kind of regular delivery, so no one ever saw me at his house. He stashed them from there.”
Sam nodded, a bit ashamed of their over-wrought deductions of how the photos ended up at Terry’s. “Jimmy, you think Henry was angling to take out Terry? Cops don’t get much of a paycheck. So why Hunt?”
“Yeah, you know, that makes sense. He was always acting like he had some plan up his sleeve, and Terry was dead set against setting up Hunt. Maybe he planned to take out Terry and use those photos to keep you guys in line, you know?”
Sam nodded, because yes, that was exactly what happened. He was not sure how he was going to ‘de-queerify’ his and Gene’s role in this, but at least he had the framework to hang on Henry’s cold back. Now, he could move on.
“Jimmy, I’m not letting you off the hook completely, here.”
Jimmy paled.
“You aren’t goin’ south. You’re stayin’ here, in Manchester. You’re going to meet with me every month, and I’ll be keepin’ an eye on you. Try this kind of sting again, or get involved with anything shady, and all bets are off, I’m bringin’ you in. An’ you try to run, I’ll put out the word. We’ll find you, we’ll bring you back, and you’ll go to jail.” It was a half-empty threat, lacking anything to actually charge the boy with, but Jimmy was as young and as inexperienced as Henry had been, and believed him. He nodded, frightened, and gave Sam his phone number and address and they set a date for their next meeting. Sam mentally tagged ‘parole officer’ onto his resume.
Henry was dead, and Sam knew Gene would destroy all the photos and negatives they found at his flat and that Jimmy gave them. In a way, the wrap up was too neat: Terry the mastermind was killed by his own, who was killed by the cops, while all the evidence went mysteriously ‘missing’ and everyone else involved in the blackmail ring on their way to London or Belgium or ‘anywhere but Manchester.’ Too neat, except for the one photo Sam kept.
He did not know what to do with it. If he gave it to Gene, it would be destroyed. That was the best solution and he knew it, but he could not let it go. He did not let Gene know he had it, and wondered at what he was doing.
There was the requisite paperwork all afternoon and the pub that night, but Sam kept his distance from Gene. He made sure it was subtle, not obvious, but he was consistent, and Gene knew it. Finally Sam decided it was time to leave, and even Ray raised a glass in salute for a job well done. Ray always liked Sam best when he made Gene look good, anyway.
“Sam.”
He knew Gene followed him, it was hard to miss. Gene did not have his jacket on and was not smoking; he was not done with the pub yet. He stared at Sam and jerked his head back towards the entrance. Sam shook his head.
“We did good. We covered our asses and nailed the bad guy in the bargain. We still got our jobs.”
Sam walked up closer to him, lowering his voice. “But nothing else.”
“I don’ see it that way.” Gene put his hands on his hips and looked down at Sam as they whispered.
“Here’s how I see it.” Sam pulled out the photo and flashed it at him, then shoved it quickly back inside his jacket. Gene’s face turned dark.
“There were other shots. You’d rather see me with that piece of shit?”
“I’d rather see you for what you really are.” Sam turned and walked off, alone, feeling anything but free.
Later there was a polite knock at the door and Sam ignored it. The knock came back, more forceful, and Sam willed it away. Finally Gene just shouldered the door open and walked in.
“I’m beginning to feel unwelcome.” Gene slammed the door closed and sat down in his chair.
Sam stared at him. “You don’t belong here. You’re not mine. You’ve made that clear.” He was sitting on the cot with the photo in front of him, and he tapped it.
Gene took a deep breath, then pulled out a cigarette, lit it and began smoking, studying Sam carefully.
“I don’t give up often, Sam. I don’t lose. But I told you, and I meant it: you win.”
“I never wanted to ‘win’, this wasn’t supposed to be a fight.”
“But it is. Always is, with you.”
“I love you, and I’m yours. That’s the way it works. So that means I lose, if it is a fight, because you get what you want, and I get nothing.”
“I don’ see it that way.”
“I sure as hell don’t know why not.”
“You let me fuck you?”
Sam glared. “Yes.”
“You want me to fuck you?” Gene squinted, exhaling through his nose and smoke trailing around him, making him appear nearly evil.
Sam did not reply, and he knew Gene assumed the answer was ‘no’ even though it was not, but the truth was that he would not be Gene’s pet. He wanted Gene, but he could not tell him that without sounding like he was giving in, as if he was willing to accept the lack of respect and the cheating and Gene’s complete dominance of him. He looked down, knowing that Gene was right again: this was a fight.
“No? Then I don’t win a bloody thing. Are you ever goin’ to figure this out?”
“I figured it out. I was sloppy and maybe I was stupid, and I’m sure it was a terrible blow job, but I was right. I belong to you. But you don’t belong to me, and that means there is nothing in this for me.”
Gene looked off, out the window. “I’m right here, Sam.”
“No. I told you I wouldn’t fight for you. But you fucked around and then took that damn kid to bed. Our bed. What I want doesn’t matter.”
“Our bed?”
“That’s what I thought. Now go ahead and call me Dorothy, insult me, and get the hell out.” Sam rubbed his face and suddenly felt Gene against him. Gene was on his knees on the floor, but he was not looking Sam in the face, he was clawing at his pants. Sam jerked backwards but Gene reached out and grabbed for him.
Sam shoved his hands away, and Gene sat back on his heels, studying him, waiting.
“Did you lie? Just to make me feel important? So you could get what you wanted?” Sam felt his face flush and he shook the photo at Gene.
Gene took the photo and flung it off the bed, then leaned forward and pressed his head into Sam’s thigh, like a train pushing logs off the track.
“No lie, Sam.”
“But you took Henry to bed.” Sam sat with his arms crossed and Gene pushed his head into Sam’s thigh harder.
“Didn’ plan it that way.”
Sam just snorted.
“Annie. One argument and you ran to the pussy.”
“You threatened to rape me. She seemed like a safer bet.”
Gene sat back again and looked at Sam. “Sam, you enjoy playin’ with fire then get mad if anything burns. You jack me off but you ain’t ‘queer.’ You’re almost asking Annie to marry you and then get mad at me for shagging some poof whose name I won’t remember the next week.” Gene shook his head. “What do I have to do?”
Sam just looked at him. “Don’t push me.” It was not a demand, but a request.
“I ‘ave to, or you won’t move.”
They stared at each other, then Gene pulled himself up on his knees and reached in to kiss Sam’s neck. Sam closed his eyes in near delirium, feeling the heat of Gene on his skin, but he pushed him off.
“Not your toy. Not going to be just another stink on your clothes. Not when I’m nothing in this.” Sam said, his voice shaking. Furious, Gene slapped the bed with his hand and got up, stripping as he walked to the bathroom. It was not what Sam expected, but there was something gratifying about it, and Sam just sat in silence while the shower ran and then was turned off. Gene walked out naked, still wet, and went to Sam’s chest of drawers and pulled out the spare blanket, throwing it out on the floor.
“No, Gene, I’m not doing it. Not just to prove anything to you, I tried that and you threw it in my face. Not doin’ it.”
“No, you ain’t.” Gene walked over and pulled him off the bed with a harsh tug, and Sam was confused enough to let him. Gene kissed him as they stood in the middle of the room, running his hands up and down Sam’s back. Sam did not respond but let him kiss, not wanting to feel anything but entirely aroused by Gene’s naked body against him. Then Gene collapsed, pulling Sam down with him, settling Sam on top of him. He cupped Sam’s face in his hands as Sam adjusted and tried to balance himself.
“You push me in all the wrong ways, Sam. I shouldn’ave let that tart into by bed, an’ I knew it, but you were out trying to pretend we don’t exist. I think you just throw us off because it ain’t real to you, like not something you do.”
Sam squirmed. “Fucking me won’t make it real, Gene.”
Gene grinned and moved his hands down to start undoing Sam’s trousers. “You daft bugger, I ain’t fuckin’ you. You’re gonna fuck me.” He rolled up and kissed Sam as his hands made it inside of Sam’s trousers, pushing down against his hard on, and Sam realized that Gene’s legs were splayed around him, that Gene was naked under him and coaxing out his erection. Gene pulled off his lips and whispered. “You want to feel like a man, to fuck what belongs to you, to own it…then fuck me, Sam.”
Sam nervously put his hands down to the floor, and looked down to where Gene was releasing him from his pants. Gene settled them together, stroking Sam’s hard-on, as Sam stayed motionless and fully dressed above him. He caught his breath.
“Gene, I’ve never had anal sex with anyone.” Sam said clinically, trying for a tone of honesty and calm, ignoring his racing heart and his mile-a-minute brain.
“An’ I can see why, with that romantic duff coming off your tongue.” Gene smiled, pressing Sam’s hard on against his and rubbing them together. Sam hissed and sucked in air. “I don’ got lube, Sam, and I know you ain’t been keeping it around. You’ll have to use spit.”
Sam grimaced. “That is sub optimal.”
“Oh wait, lemme get the dictionary…”
“…hold on…butter?”
“Yer a lovely perv. Get us a few pats, then.” Gene slapped his ass and Sam realized that he was expected to walk. He shook his head and crawled off Gene, throwing off his shirt as he crawled to his mini ice box and pulled out the tub of butter and crawled back, feeling like an idiot with his pants open and his erection hanging out and Gene’s long, tense body lying naked on the floor for him. He got back to where he was, Gene expertly shoving him around, and opened the tub. He looked down and then looked back up at Gene, who was watching him with a blank expression, unwilling to help. Sam was not actually sure what he wanted, and he could not move in the middle of his conflict. Finally Gene pulled himself up to a sitting position and kissed him.
“Gene…”
Gene grabbed Sam’s shirt and shook him, frustrated. “Be a man, Sam. Take what’s yours.” When Sam did not react Gene shook him again, harder, and Sam began to comprehend that Gene did not know any other way to prove his love for him than to lay his own dominance down under Sam, but it was Sam’s choice, and Sam’s decision. The offer alone was enough for Sam, but Gene would never believe that, and Sam saw the fear of rejection in Gene’s eyes. He realized it was a worry that was always there, he just never knew what it was before, and now he looked down on Gene knowing the real power he held over him. Gene pushed his fists into Sam, demanding an answer. “Fight for it. Own it. Me.”
“You?” Sam narrowed his eyes, the heat in his mind finally catching up to the blindingly hot feel of his skin against Gene. Gene nodded. Sam kept their eyes locked together as he dug his fingers into the butter and rubbed his hands together to melt it, finally running his hands over his cock, trying to stay focused through the slick sensation of his hand running over himself. “You’re mine?” Gene nodded again, almost as a dare. “Mine, but you fuck around…” Sam snarled and Gene’s eyebrows shot up. Sam shoved him backwards to the floor and shuffled forward to cant Gene’s hips up. Gene’s legs were long and the angle did not take his feet off the floor, but it was still awkward and he scooted around for purchase. “You push me around and you yell at me, you throw me out of your car, you treat me like an idiot and humiliate me in front of my peers but you are MINE? No, no you aren’t, Gene, you aren’t mine. If you were…” Sam looked down and angled his cock for Gene’s asshole, pressing the tip of his cock into the puckered skin, “…if you were MINE, this might not hurt.” He pushed ruthlessly and sunk into Gene, who curled up in pain but refused to cry out, his green eyes piercing into Sam. It was just the head of his cock, but it was incredibly hot and tight and Sam was not able to stop. He grabbed Gene’s torso and pulled, sinking in further. He felt Gene squirming under him, spasaming, snorting, and gasping. His contractions were throttling Sam’s cock and Sam moaned in pleasure, smiling at the pain and the intensity. Yes, this was fucking, this was ownership, this was what a man did to what was his, and Sam’s eyes snapped fully open as he knew that he was taking Gene. The thought passed through his mind – unimportant, trivial – that Gene could stop this and reverse them within a heart beat. Gene was heavier and stronger and bigger and Sam knew that this was happening because Gene was letting it happen, but the idea was lost in the pure adrenaline rush of penetration, of feeling his cock inside of Gene, wrapped up in Gene’s heat and pressure as Gene squirmed beneath him. Sam felt like a man fucking his own.
Gene was shaking some, and sweating, but he was not breaking and he was waiting on what Sam was going to do next. Sam let go of his waist and leaned forward, putting his hands on the floor, and threw all of his energy into one massive thrust, sinking up to his balls inside of Gene who finally groaned in pain.
“Not even close, Gene. If you are mine, then you’ll take this…” Sam snorted as he pulled out halfway and slammed back into him, feeling Gene’s muscles contracting all around him. “You fucker, playing me…not anymore, Gene, not ever again, you hear me?” Sam repeated the motion and Gene bit his lower lip, his hands moving to grab Sam’s arms for stability.
“Yeah, Sam…now come on, boy, fuck the hell out of me…” Gene coached as if it were a football match, and Sam wanted to break him, cut him down, make him understand that he was not controlling this.
“Mine.” Sam gasped, slamming into him again.
“Yeah. Yours.” Gene was curled up off the ground, his feet plowing into the floor, withstanding it all.
“Mine!”
“Damnit, yes! Fuck, Sam, what do you want me to say?” Gene asked through clinched teeth.
“Don’t…push…me…” Sam snarled as he pumped his cock into Gene with every word. “Don’t…leave…me…you are MINE! Mine! Fuck you, Gene, fuck fuck…say it!” Sam arched his back, staring at Gene with livid eyes.
“Yours, you fucking know it, now finish it!” Gene snarled back, digging his fingers into Sam’s arms.
Sam pulled one arm up and grabbed Gene’s cock, which was hard and red, and squeezed it. Gene slammed down to the floor cursing. “Is this mine?” Sam snarled, jamming himself into Gene as he asked. Gene’s head snapped up and he tried to prop himself up on his elbows. “Is it, Gene?”
“Sam…” Gene glared, panting, trying to force himself to talk, and Sam finally heard the tinge in Gene’s voice that he craved. Not defeat or fear, but uncertainty, the knowledge that Sam was pushing matters far beyond was Gene expected, and now Gene was not manipulating this anymore. “Sam…don’t…”
Sam fisted his cock in time with his thrusts and Gene groaned. “I love the way you taste…I love the way you came in my mouth…I want you to fuck me, I need you and I love you and I WILL NOT SHARE.” Sam felt like he was raping him, demanding all of him, and it was a perfect place to be. He was over Gene, taking everything he could out of the man he loved, making him his and he still wanted more.
He let go of Gene’s cock, ignoring the annoyed groans that accompanied that move, and wrapped his arms around Gene’s torso and pulled until he clasped his hands behind Gene’s back. He felt like a suspension bridge, holding Gene up, and while it was not easy Sam was strong and he gained leverage from the angle of his legs and hips, and he kept thrusting as he pulled against Gene.
“Get yourself off.” He spat out the order, expecting it to be followed with no question, and Gene nodded. He put one arm up and clasped his hand to the back of Sam’s neck – more leverage for both of them, as they pulled against each other to hold together – and started on himself with his other hand. He watched himself and Sam’s penetration of him, and Sam blinked as sweat poured down his face into his eyes and down onto Gene’s abdomen and dick.
“Show me, you bastard, show me what every boy tart in this city has seen…” Sam gasped, angry and pumping into Gene, and Gene glanced up with his eyes. Sam’s hair-trigger mind snapped in place, and he understood. “This is your punishment, isn’t it? For cheating on me, you bloody fuck, this is the price you are making yourself pay…”
Gene groaned and worked his own dick with a throttling grip.
“You…you goddamn whore, taking your cock to every ass you see…treating me like your bitch and I am NOT your bitch…” Sam slammed into him and Gene closed his eyes, still held up by Sam’s locked arms and working himself hard, his cock slick with pre-cum and Sam’s sweat. “You selfish prick, leaving me behind, lying to me…oh god, Gene, you are mine and you’re goin’ to come for ME…you are a two-timing bastard…” With each insult Gene worked himself harder into a fevered pitch, his body twitching, and Sam was never one for talking dirty or even talking much during sex but he could not hold back, his anger and betrayal spilling out of him with the same force that Gene always used on him physically, words instead of fists. “Show me! Show me what a filthy fucking SLUT…” Gene roared at the word, coming, surprised and undone, and Sam let go, letting him hit the floor with a thud, nearly unbalancing them both.
Sam watched him recover, saw the eyes dilated and glazed and then refocus as Gene gasped for air, his hands on Sam’s arms, his cum pooling on his stomach. Sam leaned further forward and stared down at him.
“Say you love me.”
“…what?”
“SAY IT!” Sam hurled himself into Gene and it hurt both of them, but he did not care about mashing pelvis bones or torn skin. Gene cursed and scooted backwards.
“Damnit, back off…” He started pushing Sam away, but Sam did it again and Gene fell backwards, his whole body clinching, drenched in sweat and still raw from his orgasm.
“No! MINE! Say it!” Sam began hammering at him, and Gene lost his breath. He tried rolling to the side for air but Sam forced him back even as his hips kept pounding against Gene. “Fuck if you don’t say it I’ll never touch you again, you arrogant bastard…SAY IT!” Sam closed his eyes, focusing on the sensations ripping through his body.
“I love you, Sam…damnit you know good and well I do… fuck….I said it, you bloody minded perv…now come, just come…beautiful boy…come…” Gene was gasping, his eyes dazed, overcome by the system overload of both exhaustion and Sam’s attack. He reached out and ran a hand over Sam’s face, petting him, urging him on. Sam sucked on his fingers as his hips moved of their own accord, gaining speed and power, and finally Sam moved his head aside, needing air as the pressure in his chest rose to a crushing level and he could barely breathe. Gene dropped his hand and ran it under Sam’s vest, over Sam’s belly, pressing in, knowing it was an exquisite and hard turn on for Sam, who pulled in a huge breath, groaning in.
“Yes yes…yes…mine mine mine mine mine…” Sam started chanting as his orgasm raced up his spine and hit his brain like a Technicolor explosive. “Gene? Gene?” He called out blindly, knowing what was next, knowing he was coming and desperately wanting Gene.
“Jesus Christ, Sam, come…” Gene demanded, fierce and growling, telling Sam what to do, ordering him, but Sam accepted it, because Gene came for him earlier and he would come for Gene now.
“Gene…mine…yes! MINE!” Sam yelled as he came, plowing into Gene and collapsing on top of him, speechless and obliterated.
He came to on his back, still dressed and still on the floor. Gene was over him, caressing his face but looking fierce and upset. Sam smiled.
“I love you,” Sam said, and pulled Gene into his embrace.
“Jesus, Sam, you know how to worry a man.” Gene sighed, still unhappy, but returning the embrace.
“Mine?”
“Oh crap as long as I live, so much as I don’t have to go through that again.”
Sam snuggled his face against Gene’s shoulder. “Yours.”
“Bloody hell I should think so.” Gene sighed again, as if he was still learning how to breath. “I think we killed the blanket.”
“I think I don’t care.”
“Miracles never cease.”
They made it to the cot and collapsed together, Sam finally working out of his clothes, delirious and dirty. As they spooned together, Sam realized that Gene’s hands were shaking, and he wrapped them into his own hands.
“Ever done that with anyone before?” Sam asked, certain that Gene had, but wondering if he would admit it.
“You think poncey pretty boys from Hyde got it cornered on arse fucking?” Gene said grimly, and Sam wondered at the implication of the statement. “Yeah, ‘course.” He breathed out and his voice drifted. “Long time ago, Sam…long time ago.” He pulled Sam closer and laid his head down, and Sam smiled, desperate for sleep.
“Sam.”
“Mmm?”
“One thing…”
“What?” Sam tried to pull his brain back from oblivion.
“That photo gets destroyed.”
“Oh…yeah, I don’ need it…” Sam sighed and squirmed backwards into Gene as he closed his eyes. “Mine…”
He felt Gene’s muscles flex as Gene leaned over and whispered into his ear. “I’m goin’ to fuck you. Soon.”
“…tonight?”
“No, love, tonight’s yours…all yours.”
Sam nodded, pleased, and his mind went dark.
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