Fic: Smush (Sam/Gene, Brown Cortina)
Geam? Honestly? I had no idea this term existed! I must fic.
Pretty sure it's whatever Cortina comes before brown, but I've forgotten the rating system. I'll edit it at some point.
Hello, by the way. :))))))))
"D'you ever wonder?"
Gene, used to the vagaries of Sam's post-orgasmic brain, let this seemingly random question pass unremarked, more interested in getting his heart rate down to a manageable level, hopefully in time for Round Two. When several minutes passed without further enlightenment, however, he resigned himself to the inevitable and took a deep breath.
“What?”
“Sorry, what what?”
Bestowing an irritable nudge with his elbow, Gene smirked covertly as Sam threw his arms out, scrabbling for purchase to avoid tipping over the edge of the bed. Serve him right for not replacing the shoddy piece of tat with a decent-sized bed that two self-respecting blokes could get their end away in without risk to life and limb.
“Do I ever wonder...what?”
Securely ensconced on the lumpy mattress once more, Sam took a moment, apparently reconnecting with his train of thought.
“You know,” he finally managed, with an uncharacteristic note of hesitation that definitely got Gene’s attention. “What it would be like. If...” Words seemingly failing him again, he lapsed back into silence.
“Bloody hell, Tyler, I’ve had piles that were less uncomfortable than this. Just spit it out, before we all die of old age.”
Sam pushed himself upright, swinging himself round so he was perched on the edge of the bed, presenting Gene with a ringside view of tensely set shoulders. And a smooth sweep of back, muscles clearly defined under skin so unexpectedly soft that touching it, stroking down it, never failed to send a jolt of...
“All right!” Sam’s defensive tone shook Gene reluctantly back to attention. “What it would be like if we could do this for real. All the time. No secrets, no hiding. Just...like a ...like a couple.”
Gene snorted. “Oh right. Whyever not? Me and you, strolling romantically into the Arms, blowing kisses at each other across a crowded office, holding hands in the canteen over a bowl of pink custard with two spoons. D’you fancy a church wedding or should we just nip down the Registry Office?”
Sam twisted round to glare at him, face brick red, a retort clearly on the tip of his tongue, but Gene was in full flow now, warming to his theme.
“Ooh Samantha, what’s this I hear? I do believe it’s the patter of tiny feet. Our own little treasure, how marvellous. We can call it Geam.”
“OK, now you’re just being ridiculous,” Sam muttered. “Nobody calls a baby Jam.”
“Not Jam, you twerp. Ge-am. Ge- for me, -am for you. Geam Tunt, our own little pride and joy.”
Reluctantly, Sam smiled. Then sighed, shifting back to prop himself up against the headboard, eyes fixed on the smoke-stained ceiling. “I know, I’m sorry. Just, sometimes I wish...”
Reaching up to the shelf, Gene grabbed his fags and lit up. Blew a smoke ring, then blew another one through the middle of it, just because he could. He glanced over at Sam, still resolutely not looking at him.
“Yeah, me too. Maybe, sometimes,” he conceded. “But I don’t do domestic, Sammy. I just don’t. I’m a bloody liability, ask the Missus. If you can find her,” he added with an edge of bitterness he wasn’t quite able to eradicate. Silence lay between them for a few moments, not uncomfortable.
“If it’s any consolation,” he added, “I do...well, you know.”
Sam finally looked back, expression softening into something approaching tenderness. “Yeah,” he answered, “I do know. And...it’s enough.”
“Right then,” Gene said decisively, stubbing out the last of his cigarette into the saucer making do as an ash tray. “Bloody glad we’ve got that out of the way before we both started growing tits. Now, if it’s not too much trouble, get your arse back over here. Geam’s not going to make himself, you know.”
“Ignoramus,” Sam yelped, breathless as he suddenly found himself buried under the full weight of a determined Gene. “Geam’s a girl’s name.”
(will xpost to lifein1973)
Pretty sure it's whatever Cortina comes before brown, but I've forgotten the rating system. I'll edit it at some point.
Hello, by the way. :))))))))
"D'you ever wonder?"
Gene, used to the vagaries of Sam's post-orgasmic brain, let this seemingly random question pass unremarked, more interested in getting his heart rate down to a manageable level, hopefully in time for Round Two. When several minutes passed without further enlightenment, however, he resigned himself to the inevitable and took a deep breath.
“What?”
“Sorry, what what?”
Bestowing an irritable nudge with his elbow, Gene smirked covertly as Sam threw his arms out, scrabbling for purchase to avoid tipping over the edge of the bed. Serve him right for not replacing the shoddy piece of tat with a decent-sized bed that two self-respecting blokes could get their end away in without risk to life and limb.
“Do I ever wonder...what?”
Securely ensconced on the lumpy mattress once more, Sam took a moment, apparently reconnecting with his train of thought.
“You know,” he finally managed, with an uncharacteristic note of hesitation that definitely got Gene’s attention. “What it would be like. If...” Words seemingly failing him again, he lapsed back into silence.
“Bloody hell, Tyler, I’ve had piles that were less uncomfortable than this. Just spit it out, before we all die of old age.”
Sam pushed himself upright, swinging himself round so he was perched on the edge of the bed, presenting Gene with a ringside view of tensely set shoulders. And a smooth sweep of back, muscles clearly defined under skin so unexpectedly soft that touching it, stroking down it, never failed to send a jolt of...
“All right!” Sam’s defensive tone shook Gene reluctantly back to attention. “What it would be like if we could do this for real. All the time. No secrets, no hiding. Just...like a ...like a couple.”
Gene snorted. “Oh right. Whyever not? Me and you, strolling romantically into the Arms, blowing kisses at each other across a crowded office, holding hands in the canteen over a bowl of pink custard with two spoons. D’you fancy a church wedding or should we just nip down the Registry Office?”
Sam twisted round to glare at him, face brick red, a retort clearly on the tip of his tongue, but Gene was in full flow now, warming to his theme.
“Ooh Samantha, what’s this I hear? I do believe it’s the patter of tiny feet. Our own little treasure, how marvellous. We can call it Geam.”
“OK, now you’re just being ridiculous,” Sam muttered. “Nobody calls a baby Jam.”
“Not Jam, you twerp. Ge-am. Ge- for me, -am for you. Geam Tunt, our own little pride and joy.”
Reluctantly, Sam smiled. Then sighed, shifting back to prop himself up against the headboard, eyes fixed on the smoke-stained ceiling. “I know, I’m sorry. Just, sometimes I wish...”
Reaching up to the shelf, Gene grabbed his fags and lit up. Blew a smoke ring, then blew another one through the middle of it, just because he could. He glanced over at Sam, still resolutely not looking at him.
“Yeah, me too. Maybe, sometimes,” he conceded. “But I don’t do domestic, Sammy. I just don’t. I’m a bloody liability, ask the Missus. If you can find her,” he added with an edge of bitterness he wasn’t quite able to eradicate. Silence lay between them for a few moments, not uncomfortable.
“If it’s any consolation,” he added, “I do...well, you know.”
Sam finally looked back, expression softening into something approaching tenderness. “Yeah,” he answered, “I do know. And...it’s enough.”
“Right then,” Gene said decisively, stubbing out the last of his cigarette into the saucer making do as an ash tray. “Bloody glad we’ve got that out of the way before we both started growing tits. Now, if it’s not too much trouble, get your arse back over here. Geam’s not going to make himself, you know.”
“Ignoramus,” Sam yelped, breathless as he suddenly found himself buried under the full weight of a determined Gene. “Geam’s a girl’s name.”
(will xpost to lifein1973)