Fandom: Life On Mars
Character: Sam Tyler
Notes: Icon prompt from travels_in_time. Thanks to daasgrrl and hllangel for beta. Takes place early in the first series. Comments and concrit welcome.
Warnings: Test Card Girl
Summary: How Sam copes.
He hears the childish lilt, even when he can’t see her.
Sam does bad things in the dark.
He hadn’t at first. If he was truly insane, he didn’t want to be the lunatic playing with himself in the corner of his cell while the doctors nodded and took notes.
On the other hand, lost in the labyrinth of his own mind, he needed some kind of comfort and there was no one else to offer it. In the early days, he’d just hug himself, finding reassurance in the knowledge that there was a real body there, something he could feel, a reality he could hold on to. Eventually though, he needed more.
His hands started creeping lower, grabbing at his cock in a nearly primal gesture of defiance.
Yes, he thought, triumphantly, as he felt himself harden. If the doctors were watching, or his monitors were leaping somewhere, all the better.
Sam’s cock stiffened as he pulled and squeezed and stroked, stray images playing in his mind, none of which he chose to focus on too long, be they Maya, Annie or someone less palatable.
He came, letting out a sound somewhere between a giggle and a sob, asserting his humanity against a world that seemed determined to crush him, where he was haunted by the spectre of an imaginary girl and a brute of a man; where the telly flickered to life to taunt him and the lock on the door appeared to be as flimsy as his own sanity and he never knew when he’d be caught out.
Which would it be? A masculine growl saying, “What’s going on here, Tyler? We’ve got scum to catch; ain’t no time for you to be laying about varnishing the banister,” or the child who lived in his mind, observing all his sins.
Sam’s a naughty boy
Sam didn’t know which one was worse , but if neither was real, he supposed it didn’t much matter. He should probably stop, but he couldn’t.
For now, this was all he had.