FIC: Dirty Thoughts, G/R, A2A, Brown Quattro
Title: Dirty Thoughts
Word Count: 1750
Spoilers: none
Pairings: Gene/Ray
Rating: Brown Cortina
Disclaimer: The slash is mine, the boys aren’t. They’d have more fun if they were though.
Summary: PWP - The boys have no self control.
A/N: Sytaxia gave me a quick beta, all remaining mistakes are mine.
Gene couldn’t tear his gaze away from the sight of the tongue sliding over the spoon, removing all the traces of cream. Then the spoon dipped once more, scooping up more dessert and lifting it to slide between pink lips. Gene shifted slightly in his seat, adjusting his tightening trousers. He sipped his wine, his own food forgotten.
The head was now thrown back in laughter - a rich sound - and the movement accentuated the muscular neck, the soft curls which shook as the joke was expanded on and more laughter rang out from the table.
Gene felt very alone, and he knew he only had himself to blame. It was his choice to sit alone. His choice not to mix in, like he used to.
He drank down more wine, nodding when Luigi offered to refill the carafe.
People started drifting away, and Luigi made encouraging noises about the rest of them going home too. Gene ignored him though, as he always did, knowing that he just had to wait now - to bide his time.
Chris stood, picking up Shaz’s coat and holding it up for her. Ray tipped the last of his wine down his throat, standing up to leave. And Gene made his move.
“Ray. A word,” he called.
Ray turned, then smiled and said his farewells to Chris and Shaz before making his way to Gene’s table.
“Sit down,” Gene gestured, and poured wine into the other glass on the table, the one which had remained untouched until now.
Luigi rolled his eyes, and continued to clear things away. By the time he had finished Gene and Ray still sat at their table, the only remaining customers.
“Mr Hunt, I go to bed. You make sure the door is locked, when you go, yes?” Luigi asked wearily. It wasn’t the first time he had left his restaurant before his last customers. He tried to console himself with the thought that they were policemen, although that did little to assuage his worries.
“’Course, Luigi. Good man,” Gene answered, smiling slightly drunkenly and raising his glass to their host.
Luigi shook his head, then made his way up to his own flat, after assuring himself that the door would lock when it was pulled closed.
There was a long silence in the room after Luigi’s departure, then Ray moved, leaving his chair and settling on the bench next to Gene, shoulder to shoulder with his Guv’nor.
Gene turned to his sergeant, letting his gaze roam over the handsome face, the piercing blue eyes. Ray smiled and leant into Gene, claiming his mouth in a soft kiss, sliding his hand over Gene’s shirtfront, pulling the other man closer. They didn’t need to speak for each to know their role - they’d done it often enough now. Except this time Gene was hungrier. He’d been watching as everyone else seemed to be getting their rocks off - Chris and Shaz, Alex and whichever poncey yuppy she’d found, or worse - tonight she was out with that insufferable, slimy, lawyer who seemed to appear every time Gene turned his back.
Gene pulled Ray’s polo neck out of his waistband and shoved his hand up under it, finding Ray’s left nipple and pinching it, making Ray gasp and moan into his mouth slightly as they kissed.
Sometimes Gene was content to lie back and let Ray take control. It was nice, after being in charge, to give it all up to someone else and let them take over. But not tonight.
He stood, dragging Ray to his feet, Ray’s leather jacket wrapped around his fists as he pulled him close, kissing him hard. He forced Ray to move, pushing him until his back was up against the wall, his hand sliding between Ray’s legs, feeling the bulge beneath the black corduroy and knowing exactly what effect he was having on his sergeant.
Ray pulled at Gene’s tie, fumbling with the shirt buttons, needing to run his hands over Gene’s smooth skin, to get rid of the clothing and feel the warm flesh.
Gene reached for Ray’s belt, then stopped, looking around. They couldn’t do this here, in the restaurant. Never mind the fact that he ate here, Luigi could return. But he didn’t fancy a fumble in the Quattro, or a passion-killing journey back to one of their flats. He glanced upwards.
“Upstairs,” he said.
“What?” Ray felt his eyes widen.
“Bolly’s out with that prick of a lawyer, she won’t be back.”
Ray didn’t really care, and he certainly didn’t need convincing. He watched as Gene grabbed what was left of the wine and his coat, then led the way upstairs.
They’d used the flat many times before, when Luigi had let them have it as a crash pad. Ray didn’t suppose it had ever crossed the man’s mind that they didn’t need it because they were too pissed to get home - but because they were too horny.
Gene opened the door, using the key he’d never returned. The flat had changed, now it was lived in. It smelled different - more feminine - and there were homely touches. These went largely unnoticed as Gene shoved Ray toward the stripy sofa, pushing the man’s jacket off his shoulders and stepping over it as it hit the floor. He pushed Ray back on the sofa and settled on top of him.
Ray didn’t resist, enjoying the feeling of being pinned down. If he’d wanted, he could easily have thrown Gene off. But instead he wrapped his arms around Gene, fingers digging into his DCI’s back, holding them tightly together, kissing Gene, sucking and gently biting his lower lip as Gene began to wriggle out of his shirt.
Gene finally moved, kneeling next to the sofa and pushing Ray’s polo neck off him, over his head, then fighting with his own belt. A thought struck him and as he stood to remove his trousers he headed for the bathroom, knocking aside various girly bottles and tubes until he found a bottle of moisturiser. He made a mental note to straighten everything up before they left.
He headed back to Ray, who was now naked, reclined on the sofa, one hand gently stroking his hard cock as he watched Gene.
Gene stripped unselfconsciously, his gaze running from Ray’s muscular thighs to his strong shoulders. The thought of taking someone who was as strong as he was, if not stronger, turned him on so much.
Once he was naked he stepped up to the sofa.
“Suck me,” he ordered, and slid his hand into Ray’s curls as the man obeyed. He watched his cock disappear between warm soft lips, Ray’s bright blue eyes looking up at him. He tightened his grip on Ray’s head and thrust, his eyes drifting closed with pleasure, thighs quivering as he tried to stay in control.
Ray kept one fist wrapped around his own erection as he sucked hungrily on Gene’s, sliding his tongue over the tip, gently grazing his teeth down the shaft, as he knew Gene liked it. He would never tell anyone, of course, but nothing turned him on more than being taken and used. Especially by his Guv’nor - the man he would lay down his life for.
“Stop,” Gene finally commanded, knowing he couldn’t last much longer and needing to claim Ray completely.
Ray obeyed without question, looking up at Gene, waiting for further instruction.
Gene knelt between Ray’s legs, squeezing a generous dollop of moisturiser onto his palm and stroking it over his cock, his eyes feasting on Ray, spread before him, so vulnerable and totally in his control. He slicked up his fingers and leant over Ray, reaching for Ray’s nipple with his teeth and gently tugging on it, eliciting a small noise of pleasure. He slid one finger inside Ray, using the motion of his hips to push against his hand, sliding the digit in and out.
Ray wrapped his legs around Gene’s hips, looking into his eyes. Gene took the hint, taking hold of his own cock and positioning it against Ray, pushing gently but steadily, feeling Ray’s body open for him; the tight heat surrounding him, bringing pleasure that took him to the limits of his self control.
Gene knew how much Ray could take, he knew the signs, and he also knew Ray liked it hard and rough. His sergeant wouldn’t break.
He slid in and out, panting, watching, upping the tempo, sliding one arm around Ray’s torso and holding him tightly. Ray’s knuckles were white on the edge of the sofa, his muscles standing out as he braced against every thrust, needing Gene inside him as far as possible.
Gene wrapped his fist around Ray’s cock and pumped in time with his own movements.
Ray groaned, his body fighting itself, torn between trying to get as much of Gene’s erection inside himself and thrusting into the tight pressure of Gene’s fingers.
Neither of them heard the key slide into the front door lock, not over the squeak of the sofa and the slap of flesh on flesh.
But they both heard the newcomer’s reaction.
“Oh my God!”
Gene’s head whipped around, his green eyes wide.
Alex stood inside her front door, one hand still on the woodwork - now possibly the only thing holding her up. She stared, wide-eyed and open mouthed.
“You!...You think you can just…bring whatever tart you pick up back here?” she squeaked, so outraged she had no control over her voice. She coughed once, desperately trying to rip her gaze from Gene’s tight buttocks, his sweat-sheened skin. Then she noticed the legs which were still wrapped around his waist. Either Gene had very bad taste in tarts, or…
Ray sat up, grabbing one of the nearby cushions and covering his groin, his chest still heaving as he panted for breath.
Alex made some inarticulate noises, then turned around, resting her forehead on the doorframe.
“Please…I didn’t…oh my God, I truly must be sick. My mind must be…what am I thinking? How can this be my dream? How?” she said quietly. Then she turned to where Gene and Ray were both hastily grabbing articles of clothing, each wearing an equally guilty expression.
“I…” she started, then waved a hand, walking back outside the door and pulling it to. She leant back on the wall and stared at the ceiling. “And I don’t even get to see the money shot?” she closed her eyes. “I’m sick. I’m am most definitely not thinking straight.” She giggled slightly at the unfortunate turn of phrase.