FANDOM: Life on Mars
RATING: Brown Cortina, slash: Sam/Gene
WORD COUNT: 550 words
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Written for the 1973flashfic Senses challenge. It seems I can't quite get off the porn ride. Hurrah for Pervember indeed. Despite the title, this is slightly fluffy and not at all angsty. I promise. For lozenger8 because she wanted more fic like this. Many thanks to darthfi and hambelandjemima for the beta.
DISCLAIMER: Life on Mars is copyright Kudos and the BBC. All Rights Reserved. No copyright infringement is intended and no money is being made.
Love is Blind
It's not the sight of him that makes his pulse race. To his eyes, he is just an ordinary man. An ordinary copper, doing what coppers do. And considering what the pair do, it would be incredibly inconvenient to have the memory of the night before sneaking up at a moment that requires absolute control. Absolute silence. Absolute concentration.
So all Sam ever sees in front of him is a man. A boss. A friend and colleague.
He instead uses his other senses to map their relationship, to document those twists and turns and highs and lows. Taking the memory of each one and wrapping and storing it carefully so it doesn't fade in the light of day.
It's all in the smell as Gene brushes past him at the door to his flat. Whisky and cigarette smoke with overtones of cheap aftershave, all bound up in a scent that is uniquely him. The lingering scent of shampoo, fading as the week grows old, can be just be discerned as they bring their faces together, Sam's eyes fluttering shut as Gene claims a hasty kiss. Hidden in the shadows, in the dark and away from prying eyes.
Sam knows what the Guv tastes like. Licking that spot just under the lobe of Gene's ear as they clutch at each other, tearing at each other's clothes in their haste to claim more skin to lick and tease. The taste is almost aromatic at first, the fizzle and sting of cheap alcohol-based deodorants, dancing across his tongue and making Sam grimace at the bitter taste. Then clean, musky, inviting, as arousal unwinds between them, heavy and lingering in the close air. Finally, the skin, salty with sweat and almost sweet as Sam bites down to stop from crying out.
It's also the sounds he makes. Little mewls in the back of his throat as Sam takes Gene's hard cock in his mouth and sucks, his slickened fingers brushing nerve endings and earning a deep hiss. Sub-vocal chanting sounds above him as his speech patterns break down in Gene's need, his desperation pressing down on both of them to feel more, to take more. The almost silent gasp as Gene comes, pulsing in Sam's mouth. Oh so quiet, but oh so powerful, the whispered name as Gene begs to belong, to be possessed, to be owned.
Finally, it's the feel of the man. The strong, broad back, smooth under his hands, neck bent before him in the expression of ultimate trust. His soft hair, tangled in Sam's hands as he promises all with a brush of the lips. His entrance, ready and inviting, tight around Sam's cock as he slowly thrusts forward. Fingers entwined in the pause between together and movement. Soft skin under his lips as Sam presses a gentle kiss at Gene's neck and pulling back, begins to move. The slick velvet heat, enveloping Sam from root to tip. Sliding in and out, as natural as breathing and twice as necessary. The urging, the thrusting back, the body begging in the night to be taken, to be shattered and reformed, to feel. To feel.
For these acts, between dusk and daybreak, when the harsh light of day cannot expose and tarnish; for these acts need nothing else.