New Fics: Life on Mars: Just Sex; Affair; Miscellaneous
Author’s Notes
These are some short stories that I wrote about three years ago but which never got posted anywhere. In fact, until now no one has ever even read them, but I was going through some of my old files, found them and thought ‘hey, why not’, so here they are. So they’re not beta-ed, my first real NC17 stories, and if there is anything in them that you recognise it’s probably because I recycled parts of them for other stories.
These stories are all in the same universe, from Gene’s pov.
Warnings: all contain strong language, fruity metaphors and non-politically correct terms. The higher the rating, the more graphic the sex. And I have mentioned that it’s not beta-ed, so any mistakes are mine, all mine.
Just in case anyone wonders or asks, I’m not going to be writing any more for various reasons, one of which is that I’m not interested in writing any more. ;)
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Previous Stories in Series: Kiss; Rules; Confrontation
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Title: Just Sex
Author: Jupiter_Ash
Rating: R
Pairing: Gene/Sam
Summary: It was just sex, because a man can’t have an affair with another man.
It was just sex, nothing more.
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It was just sex, nothing more.
Bending his head, he lit the cigarette between his lips and settled back in the damned uncomfortable chair.
Just sex.
Sam was asleep on that rickety bed, naked apart from the covers he had curled himself into which were now protecting his modesty. He smirked round his cigarette, raking his eyes up and down the naked form of his DI. Well, almost protected his modesty he amended, what modesty he had left to protect.
This angle affording him a prefect view of the round, pale arse and slim but deceptively strong legs that were bent at the knees. That in itself was a practically pornographic sight and didn’t even include the smooth curve of his back or the arch of his neck where he pressed his head into the pillow.
Had he been a younger man the sight alone would have been enough to warrant another bout of enthusiastic pillow biting, but the little Gene Genie was content to stay in the lamp which gave him the luxury of enjoying this rare sight without giving into physical demands.
Not that that meant anything anyway, because whatever it was between him and Tyler here, it was just about sex.
In a few minutes he would go into the poky little bathroom and wash himself off before figuring out where his tie had been thrown to this time. Grabbing his coat he would leave Tyler to his slumber, drive home to his missus and pretend he hadn’t just spent part of the evening with his tongue in his DI’s mouth and his cock up his DI’s jacksie.
Not that it was that big of a deal. It was just sex between two consenting men whose tastes tended to run a little contrary to what society and everyday folk considered the norm. Some kissing, some stroking and an awful lot of thrusting later and it was all over, two men, physically spent, panting with their exertion.
It wasn’t as if he was having an affair or anything. It was just sex, nothing more. Something him and his missus hadn’t been doing for some time now, so it wasn’t as if he was neglecting her or anything. He was just getting his jollies elsewhere, and shagging Tyler was a lot more wholesome than going with some two-bit prossie who might be carrying who knows what.
Didn’t make him a fairy either, because everyone knew that there were some guys you just couldn’t call a fairy regardless of where they liked putting their cocks. Ronnie Kray for one. Even that no good bum bandit Warren. ‘Cause fairy was synonymous with effeminate, weakling, ponce, and those weren’t words that could ever be thrown in his direction, even if he did toss them at Tyler every once in a while, the noncey-arsed fairy boy.
Although, he smiled as he lit a second cigarette, Tyler was his noncey-arsed fairy boy, and a lovely noncey-arse it was too, especially from this angle.
It wasn’t an affair, because an affair involved another woman. A man couldn’t have an affair with another man, you just had sex. With men there are no flowers or presents, no sentimental compliments, no sweet talking or emotional connections. It was all physical. Wham bam, thank you, Sam. They didn’t do dates, or cuddling, or post-shagging heart to hearts. Tyler didn’t expect to be wined and dined, didn’t fish for compliments and foreplay consisted of Tyler’s back hitting the nearest wall.
It was just sex, because anything more would be a betrayal of his wedding vows and he wouldn’t do that to his missus.
“You staring at me arse again?”
He stubbed out his cigarette as Sam stirred sleepily on the bed, burying his head further into the pillow. It had been a long week, with a double murder that had almost eluded them until a breakthrough during the early hours of that morning had led to a chain of events which meant a low life murdering scum was now banged up behind bars with a Hunt/Tyler airtight case built upon gut instinct and meticulous attention to detail against him. There was no way that scumbag would be seeing freedom this millennium, which made the long hours, lack of sleep and pounds spent on alcohol and coffee all worthwhile.
His picky DI had borne the brunt of much of the work, pouring over the reports and transcripts until the breakthrough could be found. He didn’t think Sam had gotten more than a couple of hours of kip each night since the case had broken, and while he had been wired on alcohol, coffee and nicotine, Tyler had seemed to have done it on sheer stubbornness alone.
Now it had all caught up with him, and one good meal and one bloody great shag had him out like a light. And bloody well it should have too.
“It’s a good arse but it ain’t all that, Tyler.”
Even with his back to him, half asleep and with his head in the pillow, he could hear the smile in his DI’s voice as the reply drifted back. “I’ll remember that, next time you wanna get all up close and personal with it.”
His mouth twitched as he retrieved his tie from the top of the nearby lamp.
“Go back to sleep, Tyler.”
“You’re leaving.”
It wasn’t a question or a statement.
He grunted. “Gotta remind the missus what I look like. I’ll see you tomorrow, but not before midday or I’ll throw you out the station myself. Understand?”
“Yes, Guv.”
Shoes on, shirt buttoned, coat in hand he paused by the door and looked back only to find his DI was already back in the land of nod, front curled around the sheets, his pale back and arse still waving bare in the wind. He was going freeze like that, the stupid ponce.
Walking back, he carefully pulled the spare sheet up and over Tyler’s skinny frame giving him at least some protection from the elements. Job done, he let his fingers rest briefly on his DI’s shoulders before turning and walking out, shutting the door softly behind him.
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Title: Affair
Author: Jupiter_Ash
Rating: PG13
Pairing: Gene/Sam
Summary: Sam finally confronts Gene.
“I think your missus is having an affair.”
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“I think your missus is having an affair.”
It had taken Tyler almost two days to get to the point, which was two days longer than he would have liked. Conversations like this had a habit of going all Dorothy on him, and this was not a conversation he had ever wanted to have, with anyone, let alone the bloke he was definitely not having an affair with. But if he did have to have the conversation - and once Sam caught onto something he was like a terrier on the postman’s trouser cuffs - he would have wanted to get it over and done with as soon as, rather than pussyfooting round the subject like a virgin on their first date.
There was no way that he would broach the subject though. If Sam wanted to talk about it, then Sam would have to do the talking.
Grunting, he rustled the paper and return to scowling at the sports results.
“Gene, did you hear what I said? I think your missus is having an affair.”
It was the bacon butty that had given it away in the end. It wasn’t every day he was passed a plate of soft bread, crispy bacon and real butter. In fact, other than for special occasions - his birthday perhaps - he couldn’t remember another time he had been handed such gorgeous food without even one word on how it would kill him. If he was going to have to endure this conversation he would at least enjoy his bacon butty and the newspaper for as long as possible.
“Gene! For god’s sake, get your bloody nose out of that paper for a moment, I’m trying to tell you something important.”
City had only managed a draw at the weekend which wasn’t great, but United had lost, so every cloud and all that.
“Gene!”
He scowled again as the paper was knocked downwards, almost landing in the remains of his bacon sandwich.
“What is it?” he said, consenting enough to raise his eyes to where Tyler was sat opposite him at the small table. All told, it wasn’t a bad sight, and one he was indulging in more and more these days. Tyler looked relaxed - well, as relaxed as any man can be before telling his boss and bed partner that his missus was bonking another man. He was clean and freshly scrubbed, his short hair still slightly damp from the shower, and his brown and blue shirt was open far enough to see his St Christopher glinting by his throat.
If it wasn’t for the fact Tyler would object on something silly like they’d be late for work, or someone would hear, or the bed would break from too much action, he might have suggested a thorough snogging and some even more thorough shagging. Hey, the way he was feeling he might have even suggested trying out that whole being on the bottom thing again, anything to get the little terrier to forget this current topic. But that, he had a distinct impression, was not something that was about to happen.
“Did you hear anything I just said, Gene?”
Relinquishing the newspaper he returned his attention to the remains of his bacon butty, pushing it around the plate to pick up as much of the butter and fat drippings as he could.
“It sounded like you were about to sully the name of my good wife, and while I gave you good opportunity not to do so you still persisted. But since you’ve been tip toeing around this for the past few days and have very kindly provided me with my favourite breakfast, I suppose I should hear you out, whether I want to or not. So, spill it, Einstein.”
He popped the last bit of butty in his mouth and chewed slowly, savouring both the taste of the morsel and the look on Tyler’s face.
“I saw her, last week,” Sam said slowly, “while we were doing that Jackson case. Remember, you sent me to Hyde. I saw her while I was there, having lunch with another man. She didn’t see me. But they were… closer than just friends.”
He nodded slowly. “What did he look like?”
“Ordinary. Dark hair going grey, mid-forties, clean shaven, nice suit.”
“That’ll be George, her… gardener.”
“Gardener?” Tyler frowned. “He didn’t look like a gardener.”
Gene rolled his eyes. “Don’t be a div, Tyler, that was a whatsit, a euphemism.”
Sam looked confused for a moment as if trying to place the reference, then his eyes narrowed. “I didn’t take you as someone who would have read Lady Chatterly’s Lover.”
“Read it?” he snorted. “Course I haven’t read it, well, not the boring bits anyhow.”
Patting down his pockets, he fished out a cigarette and for once Sam didn’t object.
“He owns the butchers my missus likes to get the sausages from.”
“He didn’t look much like a butcher either.”
Trust Tyler to have noticed. But then again, attention to detail was one of the things that made him such a good copper. He took a drag of his cigarette, ignoring the way Tyler eyed it.
“I said he owns it, not that he works in the butchers, you div. My missus is a lot of things, but she knows class when she sees it.”
“I know that, it’s just… wait, you knew?”
“What? About George.” He grunted. “Wouldn’t be much of a detective now if I didn’t know what my missus was getting up to.”
Sam was looking at him that that almost hurt expression.
“You never said anything.”
As if he would have done. There are some things that don’t need talking about and some things you don’t talk about anyway, whether you need to talk about it or not. Anyway, talking was for birds not blokes, although sometimes he wasn’t too sure as to which Tyler was.
“Nothing to say,” he said dismissively.
Their marriage had been nothing but a sham for years now. Some might say it had been a sham from that start but that wasn’t true. He had loved her once, still did in his own way. There weren’t many a woman who would put up with his drinking, smoking and long hours, who may suspect that her husband had someone on the side but never said a word about it in anger or otherwise. That was the one little thing that killed him about the whole situation.
“How long have you known?”
If Sam was a woman he would thought that question to be more like, how long haven’t you told me, or how long have you been hiding it, or something else pointlessly self-involved for the asker. But Sam wasn’t a woman, was very much not a woman to the point that had he been a woman they wouldn’t be sat here polishing off breakfast because married men don’t shag other women.
Mind you, they weren’t supposed to shag their DI either.
“Bout her? Found out for certain just before I shoved my tongue down your throat the first time.”
Shock, anger, resignation, betrayal, and sick relief had all culminated in a mindless act of passion which had seen Tyler’s back hit the nearest wall. Maybe it had been the drink as he’d always claimed, or maybe it was more likely to be the knowledge he wasn’t the only one breaking his marriage vows.
“That why you did it then, that first time. That why you came back?”
“Not the type of man to play away from home, Sam. You and me….” He stubbed out the remains of his cigarette and let the sentence hang. “I haven’t made her happy for years. She strayed first, that’s me only consolation. Not that I blame her. She’s happy.”
“And what about you? Are you happy?”
What was happiness? Friends, a pint, slap on the back for a job well done, home cooking, warm arms, someone to share it with, someone who understands.
“Blimey,” he said instead glancing at his watch. “Is that the time? Better grab your jacket, Sammy-boy, got crims to go catch.”
Conversation closed, he rose to his feet and grabbed his coat from the back of the armchair. Arms in, it felt heavy but comfortable on his shoulders, something he could rely on.
“Gene?”
Tyler was standing also, his jacket in his hands looking for all the world as if he had a thousand questions he wanted to ask and unable to settle on just one. His head tipped slightly to one side and then he sighed.
“Here,” he said instead, handing over a familiar looking decanter. “Refilled it for you from my own secret stash.”
He accepted it wordlessly, swallowing down an odd lump as he nodded.
“And no, I’m not going to tell you where it’s hidden,” Tyler continued, slipping on his own jacket before grabbing his keys. “And don’t go looking for it neither. And don’t expect it every time. I’m not your wife you know.”
No, he wasn’t his wife. He was better than that.
“You nag like one though,” he replied gruffly but without any sting, “but you ain’t got her bosom.”
“Well,” said Sam as he locked his front door, a wry smile on his face, “at least that’s one thing we can agree on.”
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Miscellaneous
These are scenes, snippets and snatches of conversations that either got cut from stories or the stories themselves never got finished. I thought they might be interesting. I’m rather fond of some of them. I will try and provide background to each so they make more sense.
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Misc 1
From a story that was titled Queer, set between Confrontation and Just Sex. Never finished but was an attempt to flesh out some of Gene’s background. It was also supposed to be Gene and Sam’s first time of attempting penetrative sex together. So rated NC17.
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If there was one thing that he was not, it was queer. There was no way on earth anyone would dare call Gene Hunt, the Manc Lion, a shirt lifting, pillow biting, queer. Brutish, thuggish, a bloody pain in the arse of the underworld, he would accept any of those, but queer was not a word anyone would ever call him. At least they would never be able to call him that twice.
Sam Tyler was not the first man he had ever kissed.
Sam Tyler, however, was the first men he had kissed in over two decades, and the first since he had stomped those confusing and sordid years firmly into their place like criminal scum feeling the brute force of the law crashing down on their heads.
He loved his wife, ask anyone. Hell, even ask her, although his love now was different from the love he had first felt for her all those years before. It had been more intense back then. She had been enamoured with him - back when he had been young and fit and in need of fattening up as his first mentor had said. That had been before the long hours, the far too many cigarettes and the too many to mention glasses of alcohol had taken their told. She had been enamoured and he had been flattered. Well, more than flattered, after all, who wouldn’t be when you had a nice bird like his misses making eyes at him across a room?
Flattery had been enough for him, certainly enough to see them up the aisle, enough to carry her over the threshold, and enough to make up for too many missed dinners and broken promises because scum don’t break the law during office hours.
Love though changes, but there are some things it seems that don’t change.
He still likes kissing men.
Bollocks to that, just the memory of Tyler’s lips against his is enough to get him somewhat horny, hornier than his wife had gotten him in years.
The first time he had kissed a bloke it had been during the war. He’d been young, foolish and sure he was on the verge of dying. He hadn’t known what he was doing by any stretch of the imagination.
John had kissed him.
Alone in that shelter, sirens blarring around them, hearts pumping, bombs ripping apart the only city he had ever known, they had clung to each other, physically and metaphorically. It was then that Jack had leant over and kissed him. It was brief and very innocent, but a kiss none the less.
“I don’t want to die,” John had said straight after and that was all it was, a quick kiss…………
*
“You mind telling me what this is about, Guv?”
“I ain’t queer.”
“Yeah, I gathered that, though the part where you stuck your tongue down me throat did confuse me for a moment, but it’s okay because the great Gene Hunt isn’t queer.”
“You’re such a bloody Dorothy at times, Tyler.”
“Yeah, I think we established that during a bout of heavy snogging and mutual wanking, let alone a blow job or two. Question is, what are you?”
“I told you, I ain’t queer.”
“Never said you were…………”
*
“Tyler!”
“You bellowed?”
“What is this?”
“It’s lube. Surely a man of the world like yourself has seen lubricant before?”
“I know what I is, you little fairy, what I want to know is, what you’re doing with it.”
“Well, you know, I kind of figured it would come in useful, what with you and me and so on.”
“You kind of figured? You’re not going anywhere near my arse with this thing, Gladys.”
“Never even crossed my mind.”
“So why?”
“Because I figured you might eventually, get adventurous enough to get near mine and I am not going to let you try and pound me into that or any or mattress without proper preparation.”
“Done that before, have you?”
“Yes, and it’s not an experience I want to repeat. Shampoo is great but not up the arse. I have no desire to be farting bubbles. What?”
“How long has it been for you, since you last, you know?”
“Oh, a while, years in fact. Not since before Maya. Well before Maya actually. Don’t worry, I think I remember the gist of it. Not something you’re likely to forget in a hurry, is it?”
“And you’d actually let me… you know?”
“Let you? I figured by the end of it I’d be begging you for more.”
“We are still talking about the same thing here, Gladys?”
“Anal sex, Gene. Shagging. Fucking. Sodomy. Cherry picking. Uphill gardening. Fudge packing. Pillow biting. Shirt lifting. A bit of the old up the back stairs.”
“You don’t need to get so crude about it.”
“That’s rich coming from the man who can ring off more euphemisms at the drop of a hat than most people can do in an hour with a thesaurus.”
“And you actually like it.”
“Yes. Believe it or not, it can actually be rather enjoyable.”
“Okay.”
“Okay, what?”
“Okay, kit off, on the bed, arse in the air.”
“What now?”
“No time like the present.”
“I’ve had more romantic propositions.”
“Not from me you ain’t.”……….
………………….
………………….
He already knew what Sam looked like naked, was more than just well acquainted with it in fact, but there was something different about it this time.
“Fuck me, Gene.”
“That’s the idea, Sammy-boy.”
“For god sakes, I’m clean alright and you’ll be sticking more than just your finger up there in a few moments.”
“Don’t remind me.”
“Anyone would think you’ve never done this before.”
“Well I ain’t.”
“What, not even with your missus.”
“Bloody hell, what do you take me for? Only pervs do this sort of thing. My missus is a fine, respectable woman. Now you stop talking about her while I’ve got a finger up your arse.”
………………….
………………….
“I want to see you.”
………………….
………………….
“Bloody hell you’re tight.”
“And you feel… fantastic. Do that again.”
“What this?”
“Oh, god yeah.”
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Misc 2
Just a silly snippet of conversation as Gene and Sam watch a certain TV programme that first started in 1963 and returned to the screens in 2005, a year before Sam was hit by a car.
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“You know, one day they’re gonna cast a Manc in this.”
“What as? Some kind of evil, plastic alien?”
“No, as the Doctor. One day he’s gonna come back as a forty year old, short haired, leather wearing Manc, with a pretty young blond former pop star as a companion.”
“Short hair, leather, pretty blond, you sure you’re not projecting your fantasy onto a good wholesome programme?”
“I’m serious. Of course he then regenerates into some skinny pretty boy, but for a short time he was a good to honest Manc.”
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Misc 3
A conversation between Gene and Sam set in about 1979/1980, foreshadowing the start of Ashes to Ashes. Was supposed to be one of the last conversations they had before Sam disappeared.
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“You’ve changed, you know that?”
“I bloody well hope not.”
“No, seriously, Gene, you’ve changed. You’re eating better, smoking less, and your new haircut….”
“What about me hair?”
“No, I love it. Not that I didn’t like the last one, but the centre parting, the shorter length, brings out your eyes you know.”
“Bloody hell, you turning all Dorothy on me all of a sudden? You’ll be goin’ on about me bleeding coat next.”
“Nah, you know I loved the last one. ‘Tho the darker colours really do suit you. But that’s not the only way you’ve changed through. Your policing style has changed too………”
………………….
………………….
“I’m thinking ‘bout getting a new motor.”
“Oh yeah? I thought you loved the Cortina.”
“I do, I bloody love it, but it’s not running like it used to and it’s costing too much to keep repairing it. So I’m thinking of a trade in.”
“What you thinking of getting?”
“Dunno yet. Gotta be something flashy, something fast, something that will have the blaggers running for cover.”
“You’ll want a Quattro then.”
“A what-tro?”
“A Quattro. An Audi Quattro. Although I don’t think they’re out yet. Might wanna wait a year or so. Ah man, I always wanted to drive one of them
“You sprouting your future crap again?”
………………….
………………….
“New haircut, new car, if it were anyone else, I’d think it was some kind of midlife crisis.”
“A midlife what-sis? What you blathering on about now, Tyler?”
“A midlife… oh never mind. Just as long as you’re not planning on trading me in as well.”
“What, for a younger, prettier less mouthy model? You know, that ain’t half a bad idea.”
“Ha, ha, very funny.”
“Could do with a change, some new eye candy for the office. Someone to shake up the work force. Though knowing my luck I’ll end up with another mouthy nonce, all talk no balls, totally off their rocket, obsessed with modern procedure and all that gay-boy science that’s taking over. Naw, I’ve broken you in now, might as well reap the benefits. So, what you waiting for, Gladys, kit off, on the bed, or bend over the table, choice is yours.”
“Gee, you’re so generous. So what, no sweet talk, no foreplay, no ‘oh Sam I love the way you make me feel
“How about this then: either shut your mouth or put it to good use round my cock.”
“Promises, promises. I don’t know why I put up with you.”
“You put up with me because of my colourful metaphors, acerbic wit, and the ability to make you come so hard your bollocks threaten to fall off.”
“Ah, yes, well there is that I suppose. So what you waiting for?
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Misc 4
Conversation between Gene and Alex set during the Third Season of Ashes to Ashes, but not exactly compliant. Keats has been working against Gene and Alex has been investigating into Sam’s disappearance.
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“I don’t know what that little worm has been whispering in your posh little ear, but I assure you it is all lies.”
“Guv, I….”
“I did not kill Sam Tyler.”
“I’m not saying that….”
“And how I know I did not kill Sam Tyler it is quite simple. It is incredibly bad form to bump off one of your team.”
“Yes, I’m sure that….”
“Sam Tyler was my DI. Sam Tyler was my friend. And Sam Tyler was my lover.”
“I know he wa… sorry, what did you say?”
“Have you gone deaf as well as dumb?”
“I thought I heard you just say that Sam Tyler was your lover.”
“Then perhaps there is hope for you yet, Bolls.”
“Your lover, as in sex?”
“I believe that is what is usually implied by the word ‘lover’.”
“But you’re not gay. Sam’s not gay. I would know. He would have told me.”
“Really? That just goes to show how little you can know someone. Let’s just say he was a man who how to handle a truncheon.”
“You kissed Sam Tyler?”
“Kissed? Did far more than that, Bolly. Stuck my todger up his….”
“Yes, I get the picture.”
“Do you, Bolls, because from where I am sitting you appear to be several pieces short of a jigsaw puzzle.”
“Sorry, this is just a little bit more than I was expecting.”
“And here I was thinking you were the one who had embraced modern thinking.”
“Well not as well as you have obviously. Sorry, that was uncalled for. So you and Sam, you were a couple.”
“Not sure I would want to call it that.”
“Then what would you call it?”
“A bloody good team, that’s what I’d call it.
“So that’s why you came down to London then. You couldn’t face staying in Manchester without him. All those memories.”
“Thought I’d try a fresh start. No memories, no dodgy rumours.”
“Rumours?”
“He was hiding something from me at the end. I found some letters at his flat, blackmail it were.”
“Blackmail? Someone found out and was trying to put pressure on him?”
“That’s what it looked like. Pictures of the two of us.”
“What happened to them?”
“Burnt them of course.”
“Guv!”
“Was nothing I could do, Bolly.”
“But they could have been linked to his death. That’s why he might have died.”
“Don’t you think I know that? Those pictures could have led me to whoever did this, but then what? There was a good chance the truth would come out and my career would be down the toilet.”
“Yes, but Sam…”
“Sam was a copper. A bloody good one at that. He had a good reputation, people liked him, last thing I wanted was for his name to be dragged through the dirt as well. The only thing left of him was his name, it was my job to protect it.”
“So you destroyed the evidence and killed the investigation.”
“I did what I thought was necessary.”
“And now Keats is trying to bring you down for it.”
“The queer bastard.”
“Guv, you can talk.”
*-*-*
And that’s it for this series. Hope you enjoyed.