LOM Crossover Fic
Title: The Winner Takes It All
Author: Me
Fandom: Life on Mars/Blackpool/State Of Play (see summary)
Spoilers: None
Rating: 18 for explicity
Pairings: Gene Hunt/Ripley Holden
Word Count: 1803
Summary: This a crossover between "Life On Mars" and the BBC's "Blackpool" (with David Tennant, Sarah Parish, and most importantly, in this case, David Morrissey). It was inspired by a scene in "State of Play" where DCI Bell (Philip Glenister) and Stephen Collins (David Morrissey) are in the interview room. This soon became Gene and Ripley. It was written a while back for my own perverse pleasure, but i thought i'd share it just in case anyone else has ever wondered what would happen if Gene Hunt met Ripley Holden. This fic is outside of time. It is neither 1973, nor 2002.
“Right Holden, my esteemed colleagues tell me we’ve found a body in your club”
Gene slumped heavily opposite Ripley Holden, a powerful and widely sought after local club owner. They both sat relaxed in their seats, their arms folded tightly across their chests and their faces gnarled with disdain.
Gene knew of Ripley and Gene didn’t like him. He had never been prosecuted for a crime, but there was no denying there was something illegal about his behaviour.
Similarly, Ripley knew of Gene Hunt, and didn’t like him. Hunt was a named passed between city wide boys. If you were caught by Hunt, you’d be doing time before the week was out.
The pair sat in a silence laced with hatred. Neither man moved his gaze from the face of the other. The first to turn away showed weakness. And neither of these men were weak.
“You’d better start giving me some answers Holden because there’s something about you that makes me angry and you wouldn’t like me when I’m angry”
“I believe I have the right to remain silent”
“Sorry, did that sound like a question?”
“What are you gonna do Gene? Beat me up? Kick me in the stomach and break my nose? Aye, I know what you do to your suspects. Try me on for size, but I’ll warn you now, I’ll give as good as I get”
Gene resented this man’s arrogance. He resented his confidence. He resented everything he stood for. But most importantly, he resented the fact that he had called him Gene.
Gene leant forward, his face now only milimetres from Ripley’s face. Ripley could feel his breath on his cheek and the smell of whiskey and tobacco overwhelmed him. Gene spat every word;
“It’s D. C. I. Hunt”
“Alright Hunt. I don’t know sod all about this lad in my club. Probably just some kids’ prank gone wrong”
“But it wasn’t though was it, because you saw James Stone an hour before he died”
“Prove it”
“Oh, I can. And I will”
Ripley’s smirk waned. The first sign of weakness. He changed tactics.
“Look, you know how it is, young lads these days, they have a few too many pints, they get into a fight, next thing you know one of ‘em’s lying on the floor in a pool of their own blood”
“Oh yeah, that’ll be it. Sorry for the confusion. Case closed”
Gene stood up suddenly. Unexpectedly. Powerfully. He slammed his palms onto the table and pushed it against Ripley. Ripley pushed back, but Gene’s weight was a force too strong to be reckoned with.
“I’m fed up of playing this game Ripley”
Gene’s face was stern, and his voice menacing, but Ripley didn’t flinch.
“What game do you want to play then?”
Ripley was bent on all fours on the cold, hard, concrete of the Manchester CID’s lost and found. He was breathless and confused. A warm sticky liquid covered his face.
He was bleeding.
“Get up you girl!”
Ripley turned to see his attacker. Stood over him was a tall, overweight man, wearing an ill-fitted suit. How different they were. Ripley wouldn’t be seen dead in the grey suit/green shirt/brown tie Gene sported. Ripley weighed up his options. Gene was broader and probably taller, but he was unfit. They both smoked and drank and that would act against them.
Ripley clambered to his feet, using an overturned chair for stability. He took a swing at Gene which forced him against the opposite wall, a hand cradling his jaw. Ripley advanced on him. He thumped him in his gut and watched him double over in pain. Not wanting to push his luck too far, he picked up the chair and sat back at the table. Gene stood, winded, and joined him.
“Okay, you’ve had your fun, now start talking”
“Piss off”
Gene paused and inhaled deeply.
“Now I know you’ve got a stick crammed way up your backside, and I know your wife is probably shagging some other bloke, and I know you think you’re the dog’s bollocks, but this is my Kingdom and I’m the Guv’nor, and you, my friend, are playing a very dangerous game”.
Ripley rested his forearms across the table and leant in, invading Gene’s personal space. The pair locked eyes.
“Fuck. You”
Gene pinned Ripley’s arms to the table.
“Oh, you think you’re such a big bastard. But if you don’t start co-operating, Ripley Holden, I can make your life so shit you’d rather it were you whose death we were investigating. I always catch the bad guys Ripley. Always”
Gene released Ripley’s arms and Ripley sat back in his chair. A smile crept across his face.
“Look at you. You couldn’t catch a fucking cold!”
With one smooth action, Gene had Ripley by the throat, pushed up against the adjacent wall. Ripley choked,
“What you gonna do to me Gene?”
Gene tightened his grip and forced his entire body weight upon Ripley, leaving him motionless. He was ready to leave him within an inch of his life when he felt a stirring between them. Gene looked to the expression on Ripley’s face and saw him frozen, his eyes closed and his lip bitten. Gene thought for a moment. He’d only ever been with one man before, and that was Sam. Sex with Sam was passionate and fulfilling, and took place in Sam’s flat, on Sam’s bed. This would be meaningless and emotionless. This would be cold and unsatisfying. This would be everything Gene detested. But who would know? If Gene Hunt fucked Ripley Holden, who would know? Gene wouldn’t tell anyone, and Ripley certainly wouldn’t!
Gene slid his hand down and over Ripley’s groin. Yep, the situation was definitely as Gene had assessed it. Taking this as a green light, Ripley pressed his lips against Gene’s. Gene pushed him away.
“No kissing”.
Kissing was something he did with Sam, and it meant something. This wasn’t going to mean anything so kissing had to be taken out of the equation.
Sensing weakness in Gene’s assertion, Ripley pushed him away and he stumbled into the table. Ripley positioned himself between the legs of a half-sat Gene and began fumbling for Gene’s shirt buttons. Gene grappled at Ripley’s belt buckle and undid his fly to hold, in its full glory, Ripley’s erect cock. Gene wanted to compare Ripley to Sam, but knew that if he thought of Sam too much, his own ever-stiffening cock would soon lose interest. Gene was determined not to feel guilty. This was just a shag, that was all. A meaningless fuck.
Ripley forced his hands down the waistband of Gene’s trousers and wrapped a strong grip around Gene’s erection. He stroked his hand up and down but Gene’s tailored trousers were so tight, his hand cramped before he’d even begun.
An awkward moment befell the pair. Ripley looked into Gene’s eyes, trying to gauge what he wanted. Gene’s deep, blue eyes were set with hatred. Gene hated this man and yet he was going to fuck him? Ripley knew what was called for. This had to be the clash of the titans. This had to be a fight. This had to be raw, dirty, painful, unnecessary sex. This had to be Manchester versus Blackpool, right versus wrong, good versus evil, Gene versus Ripley.
Ripley stepped back. Gene stood, confused, his throbbing cock out, in full view of anyone who might walk in. He was a sorry sight. Desperate for violence and pain. Desperate for sex. Desperate for Ripley. Ripley looked equally forlorn, with his trousers slipping down his thighs and his protruding hard on clearly visible.
“Bend over the table”
It took a while for the words to register with Gene.
But this was wrong. Gene wasn’t ever the submissive one. Gene was always the one who stood behind, while Sam bent over. Gene was the one who thrusted and grunted. Sam was the one with his eyes tightly shut, wincing in pain. But if he didn’t comply, he’d be left with the prospect of having to walk down the corridor to the gents, with a raging hard on, to have a quick one of the wrist. He hadn’t done that since Sam walked into his life. Why have a dog and bark yourself?
Gene reluctantly leant over the cold, metal frame, his entire body braced in anticipation, the tip of his erection catching the underside of the wooden top. Ripley pushed his trousers and his (rather off-putting) maroon briefs to his ankles. He pulled down Gene’s trousers and underpants, just enough to expose his firm cheeks. Ripley latched his hands onto Gene’s hips in an advance warning that Gene might take a deep breath. Ripley stepped forward and rested himself inside him.
The pain wasn’t what Gene had imagined. It was a dull and distant, burning pain. It wasn’t agony. It wasn’t enough to make him want to cry out. In fact, maybe he was a tad sadistic, but it was quite pleasurable.
Without any build up, any foreplay, any real lubrication, Ripley began thrusting hard and fast, deep into Gene. He dug his fingernails into Gene’s fleshy waist and rocked him to meet his own intense need.
Gene lay paralysed. He didn’t know what was expected of him. He was sure, once Ripley was finished, he would get a chance to have his own five minutes of pleasure. Because, at the rate Ripley was going, that was all he was going to last!
Ripley moved one of his hands round to grasp Gene’s cock. He began pumping rhythmically, but he was too slow. Gene brushed his hand aside and closed his own hand around himself. He knew he could bring himself off with a few strokes if he really wanted to. Ripley seemed close too. His grunts were deep and agitated. This was hard work for him, Gene was a big man. He rammed deeper, determined to over power Gene, to cum inside him, and win. Because this was war. Wasn’t it?
Gene continued pulling at himself, his moans long and consuming. He was sweating excessively and his breathing was short. His mind was racing and his heart was pounding. Pleasure washed over his face and Gene felt the hot, sticky wetness long before Ripley felt the ripple of orgasm flow through him. Gene’s orgasm provoked Ripley’s and momentarily the pair stood. Breathless and content.
Gene stood up straight and fastened his trousers. Ripley took a black handkerchief from his breast pocket, wiped himself down and adjusted his trousers too. The pair sat at opposite sides of the table. Back to being enemies. Not lovers. No. Never lovers. They stared at each other. Man versus man. Beast versus beast. Power versus power. Gene versus Ripley.
Neither of them had won the battle.
Jen :)
Author: Me
Fandom: Life on Mars/Blackpool/State Of Play (see summary)
Spoilers: None
Rating: 18 for explicity
Pairings: Gene Hunt/Ripley Holden
Word Count: 1803
Summary: This a crossover between "Life On Mars" and the BBC's "Blackpool" (with David Tennant, Sarah Parish, and most importantly, in this case, David Morrissey). It was inspired by a scene in "State of Play" where DCI Bell (Philip Glenister) and Stephen Collins (David Morrissey) are in the interview room. This soon became Gene and Ripley. It was written a while back for my own perverse pleasure, but i thought i'd share it just in case anyone else has ever wondered what would happen if Gene Hunt met Ripley Holden. This fic is outside of time. It is neither 1973, nor 2002.
“Right Holden, my esteemed colleagues tell me we’ve found a body in your club”
Gene slumped heavily opposite Ripley Holden, a powerful and widely sought after local club owner. They both sat relaxed in their seats, their arms folded tightly across their chests and their faces gnarled with disdain.
Gene knew of Ripley and Gene didn’t like him. He had never been prosecuted for a crime, but there was no denying there was something illegal about his behaviour.
Similarly, Ripley knew of Gene Hunt, and didn’t like him. Hunt was a named passed between city wide boys. If you were caught by Hunt, you’d be doing time before the week was out.
The pair sat in a silence laced with hatred. Neither man moved his gaze from the face of the other. The first to turn away showed weakness. And neither of these men were weak.
“You’d better start giving me some answers Holden because there’s something about you that makes me angry and you wouldn’t like me when I’m angry”
“I believe I have the right to remain silent”
“Sorry, did that sound like a question?”
“What are you gonna do Gene? Beat me up? Kick me in the stomach and break my nose? Aye, I know what you do to your suspects. Try me on for size, but I’ll warn you now, I’ll give as good as I get”
Gene resented this man’s arrogance. He resented his confidence. He resented everything he stood for. But most importantly, he resented the fact that he had called him Gene.
Gene leant forward, his face now only milimetres from Ripley’s face. Ripley could feel his breath on his cheek and the smell of whiskey and tobacco overwhelmed him. Gene spat every word;
“It’s D. C. I. Hunt”
“Alright Hunt. I don’t know sod all about this lad in my club. Probably just some kids’ prank gone wrong”
“But it wasn’t though was it, because you saw James Stone an hour before he died”
“Prove it”
“Oh, I can. And I will”
Ripley’s smirk waned. The first sign of weakness. He changed tactics.
“Look, you know how it is, young lads these days, they have a few too many pints, they get into a fight, next thing you know one of ‘em’s lying on the floor in a pool of their own blood”
“Oh yeah, that’ll be it. Sorry for the confusion. Case closed”
Gene stood up suddenly. Unexpectedly. Powerfully. He slammed his palms onto the table and pushed it against Ripley. Ripley pushed back, but Gene’s weight was a force too strong to be reckoned with.
“I’m fed up of playing this game Ripley”
Gene’s face was stern, and his voice menacing, but Ripley didn’t flinch.
“What game do you want to play then?”
Ripley was bent on all fours on the cold, hard, concrete of the Manchester CID’s lost and found. He was breathless and confused. A warm sticky liquid covered his face.
He was bleeding.
“Get up you girl!”
Ripley turned to see his attacker. Stood over him was a tall, overweight man, wearing an ill-fitted suit. How different they were. Ripley wouldn’t be seen dead in the grey suit/green shirt/brown tie Gene sported. Ripley weighed up his options. Gene was broader and probably taller, but he was unfit. They both smoked and drank and that would act against them.
Ripley clambered to his feet, using an overturned chair for stability. He took a swing at Gene which forced him against the opposite wall, a hand cradling his jaw. Ripley advanced on him. He thumped him in his gut and watched him double over in pain. Not wanting to push his luck too far, he picked up the chair and sat back at the table. Gene stood, winded, and joined him.
“Okay, you’ve had your fun, now start talking”
“Piss off”
Gene paused and inhaled deeply.
“Now I know you’ve got a stick crammed way up your backside, and I know your wife is probably shagging some other bloke, and I know you think you’re the dog’s bollocks, but this is my Kingdom and I’m the Guv’nor, and you, my friend, are playing a very dangerous game”.
Ripley rested his forearms across the table and leant in, invading Gene’s personal space. The pair locked eyes.
“Fuck. You”
Gene pinned Ripley’s arms to the table.
“Oh, you think you’re such a big bastard. But if you don’t start co-operating, Ripley Holden, I can make your life so shit you’d rather it were you whose death we were investigating. I always catch the bad guys Ripley. Always”
Gene released Ripley’s arms and Ripley sat back in his chair. A smile crept across his face.
“Look at you. You couldn’t catch a fucking cold!”
With one smooth action, Gene had Ripley by the throat, pushed up against the adjacent wall. Ripley choked,
“What you gonna do to me Gene?”
Gene tightened his grip and forced his entire body weight upon Ripley, leaving him motionless. He was ready to leave him within an inch of his life when he felt a stirring between them. Gene looked to the expression on Ripley’s face and saw him frozen, his eyes closed and his lip bitten. Gene thought for a moment. He’d only ever been with one man before, and that was Sam. Sex with Sam was passionate and fulfilling, and took place in Sam’s flat, on Sam’s bed. This would be meaningless and emotionless. This would be cold and unsatisfying. This would be everything Gene detested. But who would know? If Gene Hunt fucked Ripley Holden, who would know? Gene wouldn’t tell anyone, and Ripley certainly wouldn’t!
Gene slid his hand down and over Ripley’s groin. Yep, the situation was definitely as Gene had assessed it. Taking this as a green light, Ripley pressed his lips against Gene’s. Gene pushed him away.
“No kissing”.
Kissing was something he did with Sam, and it meant something. This wasn’t going to mean anything so kissing had to be taken out of the equation.
Sensing weakness in Gene’s assertion, Ripley pushed him away and he stumbled into the table. Ripley positioned himself between the legs of a half-sat Gene and began fumbling for Gene’s shirt buttons. Gene grappled at Ripley’s belt buckle and undid his fly to hold, in its full glory, Ripley’s erect cock. Gene wanted to compare Ripley to Sam, but knew that if he thought of Sam too much, his own ever-stiffening cock would soon lose interest. Gene was determined not to feel guilty. This was just a shag, that was all. A meaningless fuck.
Ripley forced his hands down the waistband of Gene’s trousers and wrapped a strong grip around Gene’s erection. He stroked his hand up and down but Gene’s tailored trousers were so tight, his hand cramped before he’d even begun.
An awkward moment befell the pair. Ripley looked into Gene’s eyes, trying to gauge what he wanted. Gene’s deep, blue eyes were set with hatred. Gene hated this man and yet he was going to fuck him? Ripley knew what was called for. This had to be the clash of the titans. This had to be a fight. This had to be raw, dirty, painful, unnecessary sex. This had to be Manchester versus Blackpool, right versus wrong, good versus evil, Gene versus Ripley.
Ripley stepped back. Gene stood, confused, his throbbing cock out, in full view of anyone who might walk in. He was a sorry sight. Desperate for violence and pain. Desperate for sex. Desperate for Ripley. Ripley looked equally forlorn, with his trousers slipping down his thighs and his protruding hard on clearly visible.
“Bend over the table”
It took a while for the words to register with Gene.
But this was wrong. Gene wasn’t ever the submissive one. Gene was always the one who stood behind, while Sam bent over. Gene was the one who thrusted and grunted. Sam was the one with his eyes tightly shut, wincing in pain. But if he didn’t comply, he’d be left with the prospect of having to walk down the corridor to the gents, with a raging hard on, to have a quick one of the wrist. He hadn’t done that since Sam walked into his life. Why have a dog and bark yourself?
Gene reluctantly leant over the cold, metal frame, his entire body braced in anticipation, the tip of his erection catching the underside of the wooden top. Ripley pushed his trousers and his (rather off-putting) maroon briefs to his ankles. He pulled down Gene’s trousers and underpants, just enough to expose his firm cheeks. Ripley latched his hands onto Gene’s hips in an advance warning that Gene might take a deep breath. Ripley stepped forward and rested himself inside him.
The pain wasn’t what Gene had imagined. It was a dull and distant, burning pain. It wasn’t agony. It wasn’t enough to make him want to cry out. In fact, maybe he was a tad sadistic, but it was quite pleasurable.
Without any build up, any foreplay, any real lubrication, Ripley began thrusting hard and fast, deep into Gene. He dug his fingernails into Gene’s fleshy waist and rocked him to meet his own intense need.
Gene lay paralysed. He didn’t know what was expected of him. He was sure, once Ripley was finished, he would get a chance to have his own five minutes of pleasure. Because, at the rate Ripley was going, that was all he was going to last!
Ripley moved one of his hands round to grasp Gene’s cock. He began pumping rhythmically, but he was too slow. Gene brushed his hand aside and closed his own hand around himself. He knew he could bring himself off with a few strokes if he really wanted to. Ripley seemed close too. His grunts were deep and agitated. This was hard work for him, Gene was a big man. He rammed deeper, determined to over power Gene, to cum inside him, and win. Because this was war. Wasn’t it?
Gene continued pulling at himself, his moans long and consuming. He was sweating excessively and his breathing was short. His mind was racing and his heart was pounding. Pleasure washed over his face and Gene felt the hot, sticky wetness long before Ripley felt the ripple of orgasm flow through him. Gene’s orgasm provoked Ripley’s and momentarily the pair stood. Breathless and content.
Gene stood up straight and fastened his trousers. Ripley took a black handkerchief from his breast pocket, wiped himself down and adjusted his trousers too. The pair sat at opposite sides of the table. Back to being enemies. Not lovers. No. Never lovers. They stared at each other. Man versus man. Beast versus beast. Power versus power. Gene versus Ripley.
Neither of them had won the battle.
Jen :)