1. Locked Up

"Bloody hell!"

"Big baby. Stop squirming...uhf..."

"I ain't the one lap dancing!"

"Gene, if you don't stop I'm never going to pick this lock..."

"You're couldn't pick that lock if Brit Ecklund was dressed in whip cream for it!"

Sam pulled back a little, the pressure from his bony hip mashing up against...parts. "That did not even make sense."

"I don't have to make sense! You're the lunatic! Work on the damn lock!" Sweat was pouring off of him, he had been trapped in this crawlspace next to the plumbing lines of this decrepit old house for ten hours now, and his luck, the place used radiators for heat. The hot water pipes were steaming. Gene was steaming. Sam was sweating. It was like those dreams he took cold showers for. Cold. Shower. Gene shivered.

"You okay?" Sam asked, stretching out over him again, angling up to reach the lock. When he was unconscious it had been a simple thing for little Louie Jackson to wrap the chains around his wrists and the pipes and lock him there, not even worrying about Gene's legs or mouth because he simply did not have too, what with all the pipes and ducts and beams and what all in the way. But what was simple for Little Louie Jackson was, of course, complicated and squirmy for Sam Tyler, Wonder Boy, who was pressing down all along the length of Gene's body in the strange, tilted angle of the crawl space which was more 'crawl' and less 'space' due to the crazy plumbing of a nice house turned into a series of flats. Sam's back was pressed against Gene's chest, Gene's arms nearly embracing him as they arched over both their heads to his hands' prison. The back of Sam's head was resting on Gene's jaw, and the clean, soapy, sweaty smell of Sam was damn near everywhere. Gene shifted, trying to keep things from getting...incriminating.

The team found him here about an hour ago, and a few plods were still milling about outside, but everyone else had scattered to the winds, following Gene's advice to get the hell out and do their bloody jobs and bring Little Louie in BEFORE the bank job went down. Sam was almost out the the building with them before Gene yelled at him to come back and free him, which Sam seemed almost reluctant to do. He argued that they should wait for a blow torch or hack saw but Gene reasoned with him to get his girly arse in gear and pick the lock like the dissolute criminal he knew Sam dreamed he was. This was a half second before Gene realized that for Sam to pick the lock, he would have to sit on Gene's lap but by then Sam had something to prove and wriggled his way into...position.

Gene coughed.

"WHAT?" Sam snapped irritably, twisting the lock for a better sight. It was dark and the lantern Sam brought in cast odd shadows unhelpfully around the small space, throwing light everywhere but where needed, namely, outlining Sam's lithe and muscular body and the long arch of his neck as he peered up into the darkness.

"Just get on with it."

"I'm on, I'm on. Stop shifting." Sam grumbled and reseated himself as Gene shifted to sit on one hip but he was too late. Sam froze, every muscle like ice. "Oh."

"Sam..." Gene growled, trying to sound annoyed.

"Oh."

There was evil in that voice, pure malicious glee, and Gene shook his chains. "The lock, Sam."

"Mmmhmm." Sam still had not moved, which given the circumstances and...pressures involved was probably a good thing. Gene tipped his head back to rest against a pipe.

"Hot, sweaty, and close quarters. Don't take it personal, like. Just get a move on." Gene said, and inwardly cringed at the rasp in his voice.

"A move on, then? Right-o, Guv." Sam wrapped his hands around Gene's chained wrists and ground his hips down. Gene bit back a groan. "So. Nothing personal, Gene?" Sam rolled his hips again. "Or is it just hot, sweaty, and...chained?"

Gene gasped and bucked his hips fractionally, fighting himself with every twinge. "Jesus, Sam..."

"Seen you looking...yeah...seen that..." Sam whispered as he rolled his hips again, lightly this time. "Thought I was going crazy."

"You ARE crazy, you brainless git, pick the fucking lock!" Gene gasped and shook the chains again.

Sam leaned back further, dropping his hands to run them along the outside of Gene's thighs. Gene twitched under the touch as Sam slowly rubbed his legs, knee to hip and back down. Gene's cock would have been fully tenting his trousers if it wasn't trying to drill out and bury itself in Sam's arse, which was rubbing in counterpoint to the hands that were, Jesus, were now slowly creeping down and under and...

"Fuck."

"Nice arse, Gene." Sam said slyly, and squeezed, pulling Gene's hips up, up and up until he thought their trousers would melt together from the heat between them, until his dick felt like it was caught in a vice. Gene almost snarled when he was dropped and the hands disappeared. He needed to say something to stop this, but his brain was not operating well enough to form complete sentences, and his dick was lobbying its own interests. Sam rested his head on Gene's shoulder and peered over at him, smiling, and Gene looked down to see Sam's hands tugging at the front of his own trousers. Gene felt himself put out a groan, which was not quite what he planned but was the best he could do with the sweat, and the heat, and the arse in his lap...

Sam settle backwards again to lift his hips and push down his pants. Gene blinked and looked over Sam's shoulder, down the length of his body, to where Sam's dick stuck out from pale, narrow hips. Sam was not fucking around, or rather, he was fucking quite hard, fisting his cock with a punishing grip and a speed-boxer's pace. Gene felt the small tremors of Sam's hips jerking and his own cock twitched in reaction to the pressure rhythmically bumping against him.

"Ahhh, damn, damn..." Gene chanted then bent his head and bit Sam's shoulder through his shirt, giving it up and giving over, grabbing the pipe he was chained to for leverage and thrusting his hips up into Sam's backside. Sam dug his free hand into Gene's thigh for balance, but it also had the effect of pinning Gene down while he was trying to get a leg up, or at least his dick up. Gene mouthed and nibbled and snapped up the skin of Sam's neck as Sam vibrated, gasping, on top of him. Gene instinctively tugged at his wrists, trying to get free so he could wrap himself Sam's out of control body, but it was a useless gesture and his jangling attempts only set Sam off more.

"Oh oh oh fuuuuuck yeah, yeah. God, Gene..." He said the name in trembling, raw whisper and bit off a groan, his forearm nearly a blur of motion as he brought himself off. Gene was suddenly under attack, Sam's hips pumping hard and Sam's body slamminged down on him over and over until Sam broke with a surprised, squeaking gasp and fell down.

"Oh fuck, Sam, come on..." Gene felt the words grinding out of him as his hips kept smacking up against Sam's boneless weight on his lap. Sam twitched, and stirred, and rolled onto his side to look behind himself.

"Mmm."

"Oi, talky one you are NOW." Gene bounced him again, more forcefully. "Pick the damn lock so I can get me hands on you."

"Oh. No." Sam twisted and squirmed and Gene was looking down himself, at Sam, who was curled up around his legs and snuffling his crotch. Gene let out a burst of air that should have been a curse but he could feel the heat from Sam's breath through his trousers and Gene had enough. He lurched up, trying to get traction with his feet, and grabbed the chain with his fingers to yank it down. Nothing happened, though -- the lock held, the pipe held, and Sam held, and Gene groaned in frustration.

"Shhh shhh shhh. You'll bring the plods in."

Gene cursed some more and then shut up when he felt Sam's mouth on him, hot hot hot and he was gnawing on Gene's dick through his trousers while Gene hung half off a damn pipe and could barely fucking move and...

"Yeah, come on, come on..." Sam was undoing his trousers and pulling everything out to hang in the wind like a div, and Gene struggled but it only made his cock bob ludicrously in the air while Sam smiled at it like a wolf getting ready to eat...eat. Him. The first touch of Sam's tongue brought Gene crashing down, and he let go of the chains and stopped trying to kick his way out and just laid back like a whore to take one for Enland while Sam's mouth sucked at the crown of his cock. No deeper, and no hands -- Gene looked, and Sam was at an awkward angle, propping himself up with one hand on the beam that supported Gene and the other holding onto a side pipe for balance. Gene thrust his hips, just a little, just as a test, and Sam took it, glancing up at him with dark beady eyes that gave nothing away while he sucked him. Grunting, Gene did it again, and got deeper -- hotter, God so much hotter -- and Sam was drooling, spit dribbling out of his mouth over Gene's cock. On the third try he felt Sam gag and Sam shifted then, freeing a hand to bear down on his hips and hold him. Sam looked up.

"Fuckin' stop that, you neanderthal. I'm in charge here."

"Right, got a promotion, did you? DCI Tyler, then?"

Sam twitched, and Gene flashed on the idea that maybe it was somehow the wrong thing to say, and then forgot about it as Sam surged forward and took him, sucked him, held him down and settled in. He was good and he enjoyed his work, and Sam kept at it like a bloody vacuum; Gene was pinnned down, a bug on a board while Sam took his very soul. Gene was breathing like a racehorse, close to coming, his spine tingling with it and his balls drawing up and...

"FUCK YOU BLOODY WHO-mmmfff!!!" Gene gasped in pain with both of Sam's hands over his mouth to silence him. When Gene's breathing calmed down, Sam shook Gene's head without moving his hands.

"You'll come when I decide, not before, and not a damn thing you can do about it."

Gene glared but he was half-dressed and so hard it hurt and he was still chained to a damn pipe. Nodding at his unspoken acquiesence, Sam shifted back down and started on him again. Then stopped, right before, and then started again. By the fourth time, Gene was over it, his wrists raw and his brain ready to explode and he did not know shame anymore.

"Jesus, Sam, okay, okay, finish me, for God's sake have mercy, please...fuck...yeah, please, Sam..." He hissed as Sam took him in again, his mouth tugging at Gene's cock and then, finally, he knew it was over, he was over, over the damn rainbow and flying. He knew he was fucking Sam's face and when he looked down right as his climax hit he lost his breath at the sight of Sam's mouth raw and red and wet, wrapped around his cock and sucking, and Gene came so hard he expected that his brains had been sucked dry by Sam Tyler. He sobbed out his orgasm, breathless with the exertion and feeling used up, old and young and shiny new. His arms hurt but he could not imagine using them, or for what purpose, and he lay there as Sam cleaned him and packed them both back up, and then leaned over.

That was when Gene realised they had not even kissed yet, which kind of seemed appropiate for two men fucking in a crawlspace, and him chained up like a criminal on the dock. But now Sam was kissing him, and unlike everything before it was soft and gentle. Sam pulled back and craddled Gene's face with his hands.

"Next time, my turn," Sam said with that sly grin of his, glancing up at the chains wrapped around Gene's wrists.

Oh yeah, thought Gene, smiling back at him. Next time.

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