No additional warnings for this scene.
It was not a date. It was Sam getting a call from the Railway Arms at around eight pm from Gene asking if he had any food in the house. Which he did not, but said he did, and ran down the road and back to fetch some take out and have it set on the table by the time he heard the Cortina roaring up outside. No, not a date; mostly it was Sam hating his life and bored senseless and desperate for company, even it if cost him a meal for two and a bottle of whiskey.
They sat quietly at the very small dinette table while Sam fiddled with the with teriyaki chicken and Gene shoveled down the broccoli beef. Sam looked up and saw a smear of sauce on the side of Gene’s chin, and pointed at it. Gene rubbed a hand over the wrong side of his face. Sam pointed again while he chewed, and Gene rubbed the same spot again. Sam rolled his eyes, reached out and ran a finger over the smear, collecting it off of Gene’s face. Instinctively, Gene turned to lick Sam’s finger and as his tongue ran over Sam’s skin, they both stopped, surprised. Sam’s finger hovered in front of Gene’s open mouth, neither man moving, while their eyes locked for the merest fraction of a second.
Gene’s eyes narrowed and Sam knew that was his cue to pull back but he did not take it. Instead he moved his finger forward to rest it against Gene’s parted lips. He waited for the flippant hand to strike him away but he discovered he was still waiting, and waiting. He glanced down and saw Gene’s hands resting, relaxed and palms up, on the table. Frowning, Sam looked back at Gene’s face.
He was tense and locked down, Gene as he stood on the edge of a precipice. Sam was not shocked, because he had felt the nascent hard-ons between them when they fought and seen Gene watching him too closely when he peed – yes, men did that, which was why they spent so much time trying not to. Sam just assumed that it was an unacknowledged homoerotic urge on Gene’s part, something the man would not even admit much less accept. Repression, pure and simple and dangerous, and Sam’s motto was ‘hand’s off.’
Now, with his finger pressed against warm lips and Gene stilled to his touch, Sam was not shocked, but he was surprised.
He kept waiting, and after another very long moment Sam decided that if Gene was not pushing him off, he was going to push in. He tipped his finger and gently pressed it in between Gene’s lips. Gene did not give at all; this was not permission, this was as always a test. Gene laying down the dare, asking Sam how far he would go, not giving a clue as to the price of losing.
Sam forced his finger into Gene’s mouth, teeth scraping his skin, not putting it past Gene to bite down like a fox once he was trapped. Two joints down, he stopped. He did not want to face off with Gene, fearing a backlash, so instead he just stared at Gene’s mouth with is finger lodged inside. He felt Gene’s tongue throbbing and Sam did not wait, he began gently rubbing his finger, undulating it slowly and feeling his own breath growing deep and labored. He did not know or even much care, at this point, what Gene’s status was but Sam was sporting an erection of legend, hard and uncomfortable.
Sam tipped his head to the side and finally looked at Gene, but nothing greeted him. Gene’s eyes were closed, his nostrils flaring, the muscles along his jaw clinching and Sam finally felt a sense of calm descend over his actions. He pulled his finger out halfway, then pushed it back in at a carefully measured pace, seeking out Gene’s tongue. This time there was a reaction as Gene’s tongue pushed back, stroking Sam’s skin. Gene’s jaw relaxed and his lips closed lightly over the encased finger, not a tight seal but focused. Sam pulled out his finger and this time thrust it back in just a fraction more quickly, seeking heat and promise inside of Gene’s mouth.
Sam slowly stood up and put his other hand on the table as he leaned over, finger fucking Gene’s mouth with patient and steady strokes. Nearly gasping, Sam finally twisted his hand and pulled a second finger up to follow the first, and as both fingers plunged into Gene, something changed in the heat of the man. His shoulders dropped and suddenly he was sucking hard, almost painfully, his lips closed tight around Sam’s fingers. Sam could feel the difference in Gene’s body, his breath coming on harder and faster, his body heat rising, and Sam pushed him again as he began thrusting his fingers. Sam pursed his lips and kept control of his actions through sheer determination, as the moist heat of Gene’s mouth telegraphed somehow to Sam’s cock. He was still holding himself up over the table and his hard-on was critical, but he could not stop. Gene was flushed and starting to sweat as he offered up a sincere and obviously experienced blow job to Sam’s fingers, his tongue teasing over the fingertips as if swirling over the head of a cock, and finally Sam groaned loudly at the sensation. He started to pull back, overwhelmed, but Gene’s mouth followed his fingers, sucking and teasing with light touches of teeth.
Sam drew his fingers out and stood up, staring down at Gene. After a long second, Gene opened his eyes and looked at him.
Sam took his fingers and put them in his own mouth, tasting Gene on him, and the look of raw lust that passed over Gene’s face drowned Sam’s reasoning. He took his damp fingers and pointed at Gene’s mouth, an open invitation, and Gene accepted by moving forward incrementally to draw Sam’s fingers back into his mouth.
This time Sam held his hand still as Gene’s tongue explored him but it was not easy. Gene’s eyes were closed again and his whole body was so focused on what he doing that Sam thought the join between them was locked.
“Gene…” Sam breathed the name out, amazed and pleased and turned on harder than had been in years.
Gene stopped and quickly sat back all the way, closing his mouth and putting his hands on his thighs. He stared at Sam, a blank slate, neither tempting nor rejecting. Sam put his hand behind Gene’s neck and pulled him over the table into a kiss, and for a brief moment it was as intense and wet as Sam imagined it would be.
Gene pushed him off, slamming his hands into Sam’s chest. He found himself suddenly sitting down again, winded, and Sam stared as Gene stood up and threw his napkin on table. Gene grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair, followed by his coat off the cot, and he purposefully did not look at Sam as he gathered his things and walked out of the flat. His heavy steps down the stairwell outside echoed throughout the building.
Sam crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, waiting, and was not surprised when he heard the familiar footsteps returning again a few minutes later. Sam kept his back to the door when Gene walked in, dropping his coat on the floor and moving up behind him.
Sam smiled. “Hungry?”