"What's the problem.shit Tyler, I'm a DCI, your superior officer and a man. "Sorry Sammy, s'just, maybe this ain't such a grand plan, I mean." Sam seems to sense Gene's misgivings and raises himself up on his elbows, clicks his fingers in front of Gene's face, bringing him back to the task in hand "Guv? You in there?" That'd explain the way his head and stomach keep swapping positions, but not why he's got the most violent erection known to man and can't form any kind of cohesive inner dialogue. Madness doesn't quite seem to cover it, possibly alcohol poisoning. He's sobered up quite considerably and is just now contemplating the level of insanity you have to be suffering to proposition your male DI, in a room full of homophobic Neanderthals. Sam'd had absolutely no trouble shedding his clothes and showing his wares but Gene's still got a hand on his tie and can't seem to force his body to do as it's told. Once the initial shock of finding out Sam did actually fancy him had worn off and that it wasn't just his fevered imaginings, Gene'd wasted no time in pouring himself into the car and running every red light they came up against in order to get back to Sam's flat. Finally, after months of excessive male bonding and pussy footing around, they'd been inebriated enough to say 'nice arse, fancy a shag?'. This one'd lead to them actually having the bollocks to take the step. Since when did this become a relationship anyway? All they'd done was get drunk and end up in yet another compromising position. What if he's so useless that Sam decides to transfer out of the department? Okay, that's a stretch but he's seen relationships at work go bad and the fall out, horrendous. He's never really had cause to feel this nervous, but this is Sam, his best friend, worst enemy, everything he's fighting for and against all wrapped up in one aggravatingly appealing package. He's already feeling more than a little self conscious, not an emotion he puts much stock in. He's resolutely refusing to look at Sam's cock. He drags his gaze downward, taking in impossibly pronounced stomach muscles and taught, tempting thighs. Gene's eyes linger on the sparse smatterings of hair across Sam's chest. Gene's trust in Sam, belief in his strength of character that'll stop him from destroying his DCI. Sam's trust in Gene, faith in his ability to stay afloat in whatever situation arises. What with him having a penis and all, but there's something captivating about the way Sam's laid himself out, prostrating himself in front of a man he knows is quite capable of snapping his neck. He was, to be honest, not Gene's usual choice in partner.
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