Doesn't Really Matter How or Why

He wasn't all that sure at first how it started, at least that was what he'd tell himself later when faced with the question, later when he wasn't so distracted by the pile of raw nerves quivering over his lap. One minute there'd been the usual tussle, the give and take that had essentially become their very essence. Sam poking and pointing and proving some point with his great Hyde brain and Gene pushing and not so much proving as hammering some point with his great Manchester brute force; something Gene might call a game but Sam might have called a dance. Gene would later recall, in fact, that he might indeed understand how it started, how this thing with him and Sam...Well, how Sam ended up there, bent over on his lap, needy and wriggling out of his pants and on the verge of tears. Sam had called it a dance, a great big girly like dance, there with his arm twisted behind his back, all squirmy and breathless with Gene gruff and harsh and Gene would later have to face it, panting behind him.

"This ain't no dance, Gladys." Gene had replied to the barely audible whisper, something that at the time he was sure Sam hadn't meant to say aloud. Later, when casting his eyes down to see raw, exposed skin and when feeling Sam's heat and hardness rut against his thighs, he knew he’d been wrong. Sam knew what he was saying, knew what he’d been doing, and wanted this dance or this game or this heat as much as, if not more than Gene. In fact, he was sure that Sam needed this, well maybe not quite this, but needed something Gene could give him when he had breathed his retort, his quivery "Don't you want to dance with me, Guv..." He had turned to look at Gene with those brown eyes darker than Gene had ever remembered seeing them and with those lips of his poutier than any bird's Gene had ever seen, and that's when it happened. That's when Sam gave all of his control over to Gene, and when Gene ultimately lost that last bit of control for the both of them.

He wrenched Sam away from the wall, still twisting his arm behind him, pulling harder than he had to before planting himself in his chair and blindly pulling Sam down across his lap, Sam who didn't protest or fight back, Sam who easily positioned himself at such an angle. He opened his mouth to say something, call Tyler a Nancy or a mama's boy or a downright spoiled brat, but chose action instead, bringing his open palm down with a swift and resounding slap against Sam's completely clothed back side, once, twice and even more quickly with the third, expecting...Well, he wasn't sure what he was expecting. He wasn't expecting his sometimes holier than thou DI to whimper. He surely wasn't expecting a moan, which is just what he got with the subsequent one, two, three slap mere moments after the first round. He definitely wasn't expecting to reach under Sam to unfasten his belt and pants, only to find Sam willingly there already and half out of them to begin with, resulting in the most unforeseen thing of all; a groan not from Sam, but from Gene himself.

Then there it was, Sam splayed across his lap, pants pulled down to about his thighs. Gene lifted his hand again, ready to inflict another round, thought better of it, or maybe didn't think at all, instead ghosting his hand over Sam's bare, reddened skin, taking it all in; thrilling at the surge of power he felt, not worrying, or not caring about the unlocked door and those that may reside just past it and nearly losing himself in the needy grovel dripping from Sam's lips.

"Gene...Please." Is all it took for him to again raise his hand and bring it down with all the force he could manage, the sound of skin-to-skin hanging in the air and almost swallowed by Sam's cry. The cry was immediately silenced by somehow cruel but kind words whispered into Sam's skin and an even crueler whisper of touch fingering over the raised and red handprint that would surely leave a mark, would surely leave Sam flinching for days, reminding him of the power Gene held over him. Spurred on by that thought and that vivid image, Gene let loose another forceful open hand attack, this time to the other cheek and yet another and another before he felt Sam grind and convulse against him, liquid heat pooling against the cheap, thin polyester of Gene's pants and seeping against his skin as it cooled.

The room went quiet other than the harsh sound of their breath. Gene's hand rested comfortably against Sam's naked flesh before he noticed and as if he had touched a hot stove, yanked it away, afraid of what it might be doing there, unsure of what happens in this moment. "Guv..." Sam said as he sunk off Gene's lap and onto the floor, onto his knees, deciding for the both of them what happens next, the control having been shifted back to him. His hands hot on Gene's thighs fingered their way up over the wet spot he'd left there moments before, trailing further and further up in a whirlwind of activity until the only thing Gene knew was this wet heat around him, stroking, sucking, whimpering and savoring him as if he were a favorite piece of candy. Gene tugged hard on Sam's short hair, a quick warning that resulted in nothing more than Sam looking up at him, moaning around him and taking him into his throat even further, swallowing hard as Gene came, greedily taking it all in and sounding like he was hungry for more. Gene can’t be bothered in that moment to figure exactly how this thing started, wondering more about when it might happen again.