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There were days when Phyllis asked herself where she’d gone wrong. Not many mind, her mother had brought her up to have more sense than that, but this was looking like one of them.

“All right then love, let’s try this again.”

Her feet were playing her up. She flexed her toes as much as she could against the stiff leather of her lace-ups and resisted the urge to scratch at the back of her bun with her pencil. She was supposed to have gone home two hours ago. If dinner got cold Sally wouldn’t like it, said she’d spent too much of her life waiting up for him with his dinner kept warm over a saucepan of hot water. Said she wasn’t going to start doing it again for anyone else.

“...You’ve lost a box.”

She didn’t know why she hadn’t already told him to sling his hook. There was something odd about him. He looked normal enough mind, tall, attractive despite his face, although a bit too thin for her tastes. Back before Sally she’d liked a bit of meat on her men. Mr. Dobbs had been built like a brick shithouse which, looking back on it should have been her first warning.

Christ, her mind was wandering. From her perch behind the desk she looked up at him again. No, not much to look at, shaved head, jug ears, but his eyes were a beautiful shade of blue just like the dresses of the china milkmaids that had cluttered up her gran’s mantelpiece. Funny, she hadn’t thought of her gran in quite a while. He had a lovely smile too, broad and open, nothing to hide it said. Either that or he was a bit doolally.

“Yes... and a couple of people too, but first I need to find the box.”

That’s what was so odd about him, the thing she hadn’t been able to name. He wasn’t just looking at her, but he was actually seeing her too. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone but Sally had done that.

“So when did you last have your box?”

“Down by the canal, yesterday.”

“You left a box down by the canal and you thought it’d be there when you got back?” The poor lamb. “Only an idiot would—”

“It’s a big box mind, a police box, that’s why I thought—”

“Right! I’ve heard enough about that bloody box today.” Phyllis slammed her book shut. “Follow me.”

When she opened the door to Lost and Found he looked first surprised and then delighted to see that the room was full of men with wild white hair wearing velvet suits with ruffled shirts and Inverness capes.

“Couldn’t afford a costume, love?” She grabbed his arm and pushed him inside before closing the door and nodding at PC Harris who was sitting by the door. “Give them another couple of hours and then let them go. Perhaps they can find their way home quietly then.”

If she hurried she might still make it home in time for dinner.

 

***

Sam’s day, like every bloody other day, hadn’t gone very well. Frustration and a raging hard-on had become his constant companions. First, Annie had stopped him outside the pub, dragging him by the arm into the alley. He’d thought for a moment that his luck was finally changing but she’d just wanted to warn him that Gene, “the right bastard,” was looking for him.

He’d made reassuring noises and after she’d left he’d made his way inside the pub only to be slammed into the wall by the bastard in question. It never failed. Frustration had turned to aching hardness and he’d had to hobble to the bar, faking a more serious injury, in order to cover his pitiful condition. His plan had been simple, several pints leading to sweet oblivion.

Nelson quietly pulled him a pint before leaning in closer. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet, Sam, an old friend of mine.”

Sam was distracted, still feeling the lingering impression of Gene’s hands where they’d grabbed his shoulders, never anywhere lower unless shaped into a fist, although a fist would be fine if it was wrapped around…

“Sam? Are you listening to me?”

“Old friend of yours. Yeah. I can’t really say I’m in the right frame of mind to be meeting old friends right now, Nelson.”

“Oh you’ll be interested in this one. He’s not from here either.”

“Not from Manchester?”

“Not from 1973.”

Sam’s head snapped up as he stared at Nelson in shock.

“Not like you Sam, to be speechless. You should know I haven’t always run a pub… Well not on this planet anyway.”

Nelson put down his bar towel and gestured for Sam to follow him into the back of the pub. Sam glanced over to see Gene, Ray and Chris all heavily into the evening’s drinking and not looking at him at all. Sam got up and followed Nelson.

Standing by the sink, eating a sandwich, was one of the prettiest men Sam had ever seen. He looked vaguely familiar.

“You must be Sam Tyler.” The man smiled broadly at Sam before dropping the sandwich and striding forward to vigorously shake his hand.

Make that the most devastatingly handsome man he’d ever seen. American. Well at least he sounded American. “Yes, I’m Sam Tyler.” Smooth Sam. Really smooth.

“Captain Jack Harkness, at your service.”

Well, of course you are. Sam’s drugged subconscious apparently didn’t have much of an imagination, feeding him an image from one of his favourite fantasies. Sam enjoyed the way Jack’s hand lingered too long in his. Up close that smile was lethal. Then again perhaps he should be grateful for that lack of imagination. I should be asking questions about all of this. Really, I… Look at those… dimples.

Nelson coughed to gain their attention. “I wanted the two of you to meet, Sam. Jack here needs to keep a low profile. I was hoping he might be able to stay with you for a couple of days while I try to arrange a pick up for him—”

“I usually arrange my own pick ups” Jack interrupted.

“—but I’m having some trouble reaching Jack’s friends.”

“I’m sure you could find somewhere to put me Sam.” Jack still hadn’t let go of Sam’s hand.

“Well, I’ve only got a small place—”

“I find that very hard to believe Sam…”

“—but if you’re willing to squeeze in…”

“You can put me anywhere you want. You’ll find I’m very flexible.”

Jack’s thumb started drawing small circles on Sam’s wrist.

I’m supposed to say something… “All right, Nelson. If it’s only for a few days I’ll put him up.”

“If I only had a penny for every time I’ve heard that,” Jack murmured.

“C’mon we best leave while they’re still drinking Jack, they're less likely to notice you.” Although Sam couldn’t honestly think of anyone who wouldn’t notice this man.

At a signal from Nelson, Sam and Jack moved past the bar and headed for the door. Jack immediately threw a companionable arm across Sam’s shoulders, “accidentally” running his hand up over Sam’s arse in the process.

“Who’s your friend, Gladys?”

Bugger, of course Gene would be standing right behind them. Sam hoped Gene had missed Jack’s hand on his arse but didn’t think it likely. Sam turned around, willing Jack’s persistent arm off his shoulders without any success. Gene was holding three empty pint glasses.

You’re buying a round?”

Gene put the glasses down on the bar. “I believe I asked you a question, Tyler.”

Jack finally dropped his arm from around Sam’s shoulders and stepped forward, turning the full force of his smile on Gene. “I do believe introductions are in order, Sam.”

“Captain Jack Harkness, this is DCI Gene Hunt, my boss.”

Sam was amazed to see Jack step forward and seize Gene’s hand between both of his own.

“Charmed, I’m sure. Sam has such lovely friends.”

Sam correctly read the lines rapidly appearing between Gene’s eyes and stepped forward.

“Jack’s an old friend from…”

Gene was staring down at where Jack still held his hand.

Think Sam, think! “From Hyde. He’s an old friend from Hyde.”

Gene took his hand back from Jack and gave him the once over, taking in Jack’s clothing.

“Period military costume? Interesting choice, Harkness. No one in Hyde’s heard of fashion then?”

Jack stared down at Gene’s feet. “Nice loafers. You do have big… feet, don’t you?”

Sam actually winced, waiting for the inevitable blows but nothing happened. Gene just looked from Jack to Sam and back again. Gene must have already had enough drinks to slow him down.

“We’ll be leaving now, Guv. See you tomorrow.”

Sam grabbed Jack by the arm, steering him out through the door, looking back over his shoulder to see Gene still standing there, looking after them.

 

The walk home had proved interesting what with Jack accidentally bumping in to him, walking too close and occasionally throwing an arm across his shoulders again. It was a cold night and the extra warmth from Jack in his heavy wool coat was welcome although Sam knew better than to think it was just the coat. It turned out that Jack smelled almost as good as he looked.

 

Back at Sam’s place the flirting had continued. Sam had asked if Jack would like a drink. Jack had asked for something long and smooth. On turning, Sam had found himself accidentally trapped between Jack’s arms as he’d moved in closer to see if there was anything he could do to help. Jack had then managed to accidentally drag his fingers slowly across Sam’s flies while reaching to take the glass from him. That was enough for Sam.

“What the hell are you doing, Sam?”

“Undoing my trousers.”

“I can see that.”

“Then why did you ask?”

“I meant why are you undoing your trousers?”

“You’ve been flirting with me all night and—”

“That’s my thing I—”

“And you just propositioned me, right?”

“Yeah, but no one ever takes me up on it and—”

“Look I’m horny and I’m not getting any. Any. At. All. The girl who thinks she’s interested in me is all flirt and no action and Ge— the bloke I’m interested in doesn’t do blokes. I’m frustrated. I’m hard enough to cut glass. You’re available, apparently interested and prettier than any man has a right to be. You are interested right, Jack?”

“Yeah.”

“All right then. Are you going to take your clothes off or am I?”

“I am.”

Sam noticed that Jack’s self-assurance seemed to waiver as he shed his clothes, although for the life of him he couldn’t understand why. The more of Jack’s body that was revealed the happier Sam was. It just kept getting better and better, beautiful smooth chest, tight abs and a heavy, semi-erect and beautifully formed cock. Sam finished shedding the last of his clothes and stepped forward, pulling Jack into a tight embrace. Turned out Jack was one hell of a kisser and things were looking up in more ways than one. Jack increased the distance between their bodies just enough to slip one hand across Sam’s chest.

“Fuck! What are you doing Jack?”

“I thought people liked to have their nipples played with?”

“Played with, yes. Twisted like radio knobs? No!”

Jack’s hand flattened out to just pinch at Sam’s right nipple. “Better Sam?”

“Much. Now com’ere.”

Sam wound his hand into Jack’s hair as Jack’s tongue delved further into his mouth in an expert fashion. Sam couldn’t wait to have it wrapped around his cock. Sam backed up to his bed, taking Jack with him. They both laughed as the few springs left in the bed squeaked in protest as they landed. Jack started slowly kissing his way down Sam’s chest toward where his body was signalling its keen interest. Sam’s cock was suddenly engulfed in hot wetness, that clever tongue sweeping around to…

Oh fuck yes that’s… “Fuck! What the fuck are you doing Jack?”

“Biting you.”

“Another thing you’ve read?”

“Well yeah…”

“Make a note, Jack. The foreskin is not a chew toy. Have you ever actually done this before?”

“Of course I have, lots of times.” Jack was pouting. “Although mainly with alien species. The Nebulous people of Meerkat like it stuck in their ear and there were these clones on Polyander that liked—”

“Enough Jack. I’m only human. D’you think you can bear that in mind?”

“I’ll bear anything you want me to Sam. Lie back.”

Jack slipped his mouth back over Sam’s cock and sped up.

Bliss! This might just work out and… “Stop! For Christssake, stop!”

“I thought you’d appreciate my flexibility Sammy. The way I can keep my mouth on your cock and yet put my cock—”

“The arsehole is not self-lubricating Jack. And don’t call me Sammy. Ever! Look I really wasn’t in the mood to top tonight, but I suppose I’ll have to.”

“Why?” Even as Jack was asking the question he was rolling to his back in a relaxed boneless fashion.

“Let’s call it survival instinct. Pass me the lube from the top draw and I’ll try to explain a few things.”

 

***

 

With his usual flair for timing and Sam’s usual lack of luck, Gene managed to burst through the door just as Sam was about to come, buried balls deep inside Jack’s kneeling form. Sam couldn’t have stopped if his life depended on it and it probably did.

“What in the buggering hell is going on here Tyler?”

Sam grunted as he came, staring at Gene over Jack’s shoulder.

“Christ, come to think of it, “buggering hell” pretty much sums it up, Guv.”

Gene’s eyes dropped to where Sam’s come splattered hand was still wrapped around Jack’s softening cock. “I can see that Tyler.”

Sam shifted his hand to Jack’s hip. Had Gene Hunt really just say that? Perhaps this was all just another psychotic episode.

“Get your kit on. We’ve got work to do.”

As Sam pulled back from Jack he was grateful that Jack’s kneeling form blocked his lower body from Gene’s view although he was surprised that Jack wasn’t making any effort to cover himself.

“Gene, so nice to see you again.”

“Shut it!” Gene and Sam spoke in unison. Gene glared at Sam over Jack’s shoulder.

“Listen to the pair of you all butch and—”

“Tyler best tell your” Gene’s eyes dipped again, slowly and deliberately “little friend here that I mean it.”

Sam put one hand on Jack’s shoulder. “That’ll do Jack.”

Sam tried to think about what to do next. Obviously putting on as many clothes as possible as soon as possible was a necessity. And a bath first… a lovely long bath somewhere far away and…

“Gladys I said move it.”

“Well if you’d just turn your back Guv I’ll—”

“If you think for one sodding moment that I’m turning me back on you two shirt lifters you’ve got another thing coming.”

Jack rose from the bed in one smooth gesture and stretched lazily, arms over his head, as Sam scrambled to cover himself with the sheet. Gene backed up hastily to the wall then crossed his arms and tried to look nonchalant. Sam rose awkwardly off the bed, clutching the sheet around his waist.

Jack smiled broadly at Sam. “Why bother with the sheet Sam? I’m sure you don’t have anything Gene hasn’t seen before.”

As Gene came off the wall fast, Sam stepped hastily forward in front of Jack only to trip over the trailing bed sheet and land stark bollock naked, arse over head on the carpet in front of Gene. Sam stared up at Gene who was now hovering over him, obviously undecided as to who exactly to punch first. Sam thought he must be losing his mind as from his angle it looked like Gene was getting an erection. He wondered if he’d hit his head when he tripped.

Gene looked over at Jack, back at Sam and then shoved his hands in his coat pockets, pulling it closer around him, like he was trying to avoid punching someone. “I’ll be in the Cortina. You’ve got fifteen minutes.”

Before Sam could even answer Gene, the door to his flat was slamming closed.

Jack helped Sam to his feet. “What a magnificent bitch!”

“The Guv’s not anyone’s bitch.”

“Oh you mean... I’m sorry. I’d naturally assumed the two of you were going at it like crazed weasels. How do you keep your hands off him?”

“I like my hands in one piece, like my neck.”

“So the two of you aren’t involved? That’s interesting.”

Sam didn’t like the look on Jack’s face but thought if that was the way Jack wanted to die then it wasn’t any of his business.

“Get cleaned up Jack. When he says fifteen minutes he means ten.”

 

***

 

“What’s he doing here?” Gene was leaning against the side of the Cortina, arms crossed.

“Sorry Guv. Can we take Jack to the station he’d like to see—”

“Hasn’t he seen enough already?”

“Now Guv, I can explain…” Sam faltered.

Gene cocked one eyebrow and waited, but for once Sam remained silent.

“That’s what I thought. Get in the car.”

“Shotgun!” Jack moved in close to Gene and reached for the passenger door handle. Gene slammed his right hand down hard on the door.

“I don’t think so.” He poked one gloved finger hard into Jack’s chest. “You, in the back.”

“Thought you didn’t want me behind you, Gene?” Jack leaned in closer to Gene, smiling broadly.

“Gladys!”

“On it Guv! Jack shut up and get in the back. We don’t have time to be scraping your teeth off the pavement.”

“See, like I said, butch, the pair of you.”

 

The ride to the station had been hell. Jack had kept leaning forward to ask about local landmarks, far too close to Gene’s ear and Gene kept accelerating, throwing Jack back in his seat. When they finally pulled up at the station Sam was even more grateful than usual to still be alive. Gene got out of the car fast and headed into the building without a backward glance, Sam and Jack following at a slower pace.

 

In CID, things took the usual downward spiral. Jack had taken one look at Chris and then wasted no time at all introducing himself, moving to sit on Chris’ desk, leaning in as close to a flustered Chris as was humanly possible. As Sam had passed by Chris’ desk he’d caught Jack murmuring “you know what they say about men with eyes like yours...” and noted the murderous look on Ray’s face, hoping it wouldn’t lead to a punch up in the middle of CID.

Annie had walked in with an extra spring to her step – “I’m going to be showing a really nice friendly girl interested in being a police woman around the station later, her name’s Tyler too, Sam” – making Gene laugh by telling him Phyllis was being inundated with reports of missing garden sheds. After Sam had introduced them she’d left with Jack hot on her heels like he had a ring through his nose. “I’d love to meet this new friend of yours, Annie...”

The missing garden sheds had ceased to be a laughing matter when Superintendent Rathbone had stormed in to CID roaring about the bloody nerve of some common thief thinking he could take the Superintendent’s shed and get away with it.

As the Cortina had roared away from the station kerb Sam could have sworn he saw Jack, a blonde girl and eight men dressed as John Pertwee stood in the middle of an alley pointing upward but put it down to some new medication his doctors must be trying him on.

The owners of every missing shed told a variation of the same story. They’d either seen nothing, seen their sheds carried away by garden gnomes or in most cases they’d phrased it as “by midgets who were dressed like garden gnomes.” Just to be thorough Sam asked but there were no garden gnomes actually missing from the now shedless gardens. Gene had rolled his eyes and half dragged him to the next house every time he’d asked. Sam apparently losing what was left of his marbles automatically meant “new interview.”

Sam and Gene had been sat in a caff eating bacon baps when Jack had walked in, coat swirling.

“I just need to borrow Sam for a minute.” Jack leaned heavily on Gene’s shoulders. “You don’t mind, do you Gene?”

Sam was pretty bloody sure from the look on Gene’s face that he did mind but he muttered “I won’t be a minute Guv” and followed Jack back outside. Jack walked a few yards down the street and opened the back door of a white transit van to reveal the blonde girl and the eight men dressed like John Pertwee. Sam’s day was just getting better and better.

“To cut straight to the chase Sam—”

Sam was sure this was one time the whole story would be worth hearing but Jack hadn’t stopped talking.

“—my friends here are also from... out of town and for some reason they thought this would be a good disguise. Not that it’s unattractive mind, far from it, in fact—”

“Jack!” The blonde woman’s voice had an edge to it and now Sam was looking at her more closely she looked vaguely familiar too.

“You’re... Rose.” She’d nodded at him.

“Right. They’re here because of the Zetlu— the shed stealing gnomes. They’re in a warehouse down by the canal. In an hour we’ll call and give you a tip off. You can come and claim the sheds back. The bit that would be impossible to explain should all be over by then.”

 

***

 

Sam still wasn’t sure how they’d all ended up at Gene’s house. He knew it had something to do with Nelson closing the pub and really meaning it for once and then the flock of Pertwees offering to buy the whisky if someone else had somewhere comfortable for them to drink it and here they were.

The day had turned out better than expected. The tip off had been radioed through and the Pertwees had flagged down Gene’s car to say they’d been the ones to see the suspicious activity and call. When Gene had asked one of them had said they were part of a Science Fiction club and Gene hadn’t felt the need to ask anything more, turning them over to Sam.

Still, with Rathbone off his back Gene had been only too happy to accept drinks from the Pertwees when they’d turned up at the Railway Arms with Jack and Rose. In fact, by the time they’d left the Arms, Gene had been plastered and it had been the Pertwees that had carried Gene out to their Transit, up the stairs at his house and deposited him on his bed.

Downstairs in the living room, the sight of Jack in the middle of said Pertwees flirting his brains out (he’d told Sam it was probably the closest to having octuplets he was ever going to get) and Annie cuddled up in a chair in the corner with Rose, looking in his direction and then giggling in an evil fashion, was enough to drive Sam out in to the garden for some fresh air. In the driveway he found a man having a one sided conversation with Gene’s car. He couldn’t see him very clearly, away from the streetlights, just a tall, thin outline with a shaved head.

“Fancy seeing you here. How long’s it been? ... That long?” The man put his hand on top of the car. “It’s Tina now?” The man stepped back and tilted his head, looking the car over more closely. “It suits you... Oh, the new face? Yeah, it’s not bad, but I still would have liked to have been ginger this time.”

This was the last thing Sam needed. “Can I help you?” Sam’s gran had said that god looked after fools and idiots but it looked like he must have taken the day off. “Gene wouldn’t like you touching his car.”

“His car?” The man again appeared to be listening to the Cortina. “Oh right, that’s how it is... So you’re Sam? Tina tells— something tells me that you might know where Jack and Rose are.”

“So you’re their missing mate, about time you showed up.”

“Sorry, I know Jack can be a bit much.”

“You’ve no idea,” Sam muttered.

“I probably do. I still don’t know what happened with him and Rose but she started asking me about intergalactic nunneries afterwards.”

The man stepped around the car, his face finally visible in the light from the kitchen window.

“Christ, you’re...” As if the Pertwees hadn’t been enough. Sam was going to leave this one alone, completely alone and hope his medication got sorted out soon. “They’re both inside.”

Sam turned but the man didn’t follow him back inside, instead stepping back around to Gene’s car.

Back in the living room, everyone was accounted for except Jack. Wanting to tell him his friend had arrived he checked the kitchen and ended up back in the hall. Still no Jack. Either he’d walked out of the front door, which wasn’t likely, or he’d gone upstairs. Sam had got as far as the landing when he saw flashing lights through the net curtain. He pulled it back only to be met by the extraordinary sight of the Cortina flashing its lights at a police box now visible through the open doors of Gene’s garage. The man was stood between them both, grinning in a maniacal fashion. Sam had turned to run back down the stairs when he heard the unmistakable sound of Gene’s cursing followed by the sound of something heavy hitting the floor. Sam had turned around again, crossed the landing and thrown open the door of Gene’s bedroom before he’d even really thought about moving.

Jack was sprawled on the bedroom carpet wiping blood from a split lip. Gene was looming over him dressed only in his trousers. His unzipped trousers, Sam noted, along with the fact that Gene was still pulling them up around his waist.

“Back up, Guv.”

Gene looked at Sam like he was seeing him for the first time and then sat down heavily on the edge of his bed. Sam put a hand out to Jack and pulled him up off the floor.

“How stupid can you be, you’re lucky he didn’t bloody kill you. You can’t just be trying it on with everyone—”

“Why not?”

It was like talking to a child. A big one, with a brilliant smile and really great— “Because contrary to what you might think not everyone fancies you and most men are actually straight.”

“Not in this room.”

Sam tensed and looked at Gene, expecting a swift reaction. Gene just looked at the floor. He turned back to Jack.

“It was Gene’s idea?”

“No shit, Sherlock.” Jack leaned back against the bedroom wall, hips thrust forward. “If my knee hadn’t slipped by now we’d probably be—”

“Right. No need to draw me a picture.” Sam rubbed at the back of his neck looking from Jack to Gene. “Then I’ll leave you to it and—”

“No!” Jack and Gene chorused together, Jack stepping forward and Gene standing up from the bed.

“I was thinking threesome,” Jack purred.

“No!” This time it was Sam and Gene who spoke at the same time.

“Your friend is outside Jack, why don’t we go and talk to him?” Sam opened the bedroom door, obviously waiting for Jack to precede him.

Gene grabbed Sam’s arm. “I want a word with you, Tyler.”

“Bye, guys, it’s been real.” Jack walked out, closing the bedroom door behind him.

Sam looked at Gene, down at Gene’s hand on his arm and then back up. Gene snatched his hand back and went to sit slumped over on the edge of the bed.

“Suppose I should explain...”

“You don’t have to explain to me, I slept with him too.”

Gene glared up at Sam and then went back to staring down at the orange floral Axminster.

“I was frustrated. First the missus left—”

“Didn’t know she’d left, Guv. Sorry.”

“Don’t be, haven’t been close in years. She moved in with Phyllis as it happens, saves on the rent for a woman on her own. Still, it were a bit of a wrench. Things were going good there for a bit though but then Annie stopped sleeping with me—”

Annie?”

“You heard, she says I shouted someone else’s name when we were—”

“Don’t need to hear this.”

“And the bloke I like doesn’t do blokes or so I thought…”

“Why Jack? If you were going to get drunk and experiment then why—” Sam abruptly stopped pacing to stare at Gene. “Hang on. The bloke you like?”

Like might be too mild a word for it. Turns out he likes blokes too, at least some of the time.”

“Is that right?” Sam moved closer, standing over Gene.

“Thing is, turns out he likes the pretty boys.”

Sam moved swiftly to straddle Gene’s lap, seizing his face between his hands. “I’d rather have gorgeous.”

The kiss was awkward at first, Sam quickly realizing that the problem was he kept expecting Gene to take control of it and he wasn’t, just responding to Sam’s lead instead for once. Sam was so caught up in sliding his hands to the warmth of Gene’s bare shoulders, trying to push him back down on to the bed that it took a moment to register that Gene was actually trying to push him off.

Sam staggered to his feet immediately, backing off slurring “sorry” he thought or at least tried to think as most of his blood relocated south of his waist. He slammed to a halt as Gene’s fingers dug in to his hips, pulling him back in.

“Get your kit off.”

Dazed as he was, Sam still didn’t need to be told twice. As he slipped out of his coat and started working on his shirt buttons with shaky fingers, Gene went to work on his trousers. It crossed Sam’s mind as Gene unzipped his boots and he toed them off before moving his hands back to Gene’s shoulders as Gene stripped off Sam’s trousers and underpants, that it was a brilliant example of coordinated teamwork to meet a common goal. His semi-hysterical giggle at the thought cut off as Gene glared up at him. Sam dropped to his knees to pull Gene’s trousers off as Gene obligingly lifted his hips. No underpants. Just how far had Jack got? It just really didn’t seem like the right time to ask. He slid his hands down the inside of Gene’s thighs, spreading his legs wider and moving between them to close his mouth over Gene’s jutting cock.

“Christ, Tyler!”

Sam knew he was good at this, fucking good at this in fact, and he set out to show Gene that a Manchester lad could give the Kama Sutra a run for its money. Leaning back on his elbows, head thrown back, neck muscles tense and straining Gene was indeed a gorgeous sight. As Sam deep throated him, swallowing around the head of his cock, Gene’s head snapped forward again, staring down his body at Sam before he scrambled up on the bed reaching for Sam’s shoulders. Sam expected to feel Gene’s hands digging in to his scalp as he tried to find a grip on Sam’s too short hair but what he didn’t expect was Gene to be pushing him off rather than pulling him in. Sam sat back on his heels, licking his lips.

“You could have made a fortune on Canal street,” Gene panted, grinning at him, before sitting up further, urging Sam back to his feet.

Sam wondered what Gene had in mind, perhaps bending him over the dressing table if he were lucky, before Gene’s mouth closed over Sam’s cock and Sam stopped thinking.

Fuck that was good... too good... “Not going to last, Gene.”

Gene pulled his mouth off Sam’s cock, making an utterly filthy sucking sound in the process that any pizza delivering porn star would have been proud of, almost pushing Sam over the edge. Only the hard squeeze of Gene’s fingers to the base of his cock stopped him from coming. Apparently Gene had a few tricks up his sleeve too. Gene leaned sideways and picked up a bottle of hand lotion off the bedside table before handing it to Sam and lying back on the bed, spreading his legs and pulling up his knees.

“So why don’t you show me some of this procedure you’re always banging on about?”

“Well first” Sam poured some of the lotion out on to his fingers “you need to examine the scene of the crime very, very carefully.”

 

***

“Wake up, Sam.”

Sam turned in his bed, hearing all too familiar worn bedsprings squeak and groan beneath him as he opened his eyes. The Test Card Girl was standing over him.

He should have known it couldn’t be real.

“Of course you should have known, Sam. What was your first clue, a flock of Pertwees, a visit from the Doctor or the shed stealing gnomes from another world?”

He knew he should have been upset but on the scale of the nightmares he’d been having for weeks this dream had been a good one, a really good one. He could still feel the pleasant ache of muscles put to a very good use.

“Sod off will you, I’m going back to sleep.”

“Me too Sam, just had to get up and take a piss.”

Sam’s eyes snapped open as a heavy arm coiled around his chest followed by the rest of Gene wrapping around him.

“Bloody cold out there, like it better in here with you.”

Sam blinked at the large patterned wallpaper and floral curtains of Gene’s bedroom, glad that the colour wasn’t visible in the light from the streetlamp outside. He raised his hand to grip at Gene’s arm.

“You’re still here then?”

“Course I am. It’s my house. I’m not going anywhere.” Gene’s breath stirred the short hairs at the back of Sam’s neck. “Sides, think I need to take a closer look at your procedures, try a few of them out for myself.” Gene’s lips dragged against Sam’s skin. “Might take a few years of devoted practice mind, for it to get to be second nature. You might need to move in here, got a spare room...” Gene’s hand shifted up Sam’s chest, coming to rest over his heart. “That’s if you don’t mind.”

“Right.” Sam pulled Gene’s arm tighter around him, grinning at the hideous wallpaper, delighting in the thought that its days were numbered... and why. “Don’t mind if I do.”

 

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