What the DI saw (Part 2)
Chapter 2
Rating : Brown Cortina (for the secksi bits)
Pairing : Gene/Alex
Word Count : 2,000 approx
Disclaimer : The characters are not mine, they belong to the nice people at Kudos. The fevered imaginings are, I'm ashamed to say, mine. Please don't tell my Mum
A/N : For those of you who might be wondering, there is no plot whatsoever in this fic. You won't find out anything about Sir David Fitzwatson or the case in which he is chief witness. There will be no blags, shootings, getaways, car chases, character development, interesting investigative techniques, deaths or, indeed, anything at all that has any literary merit whatsoever. I just needed an excuse to get them into a hotel room together.
Big sloppy kisses to funkygibbon for the lightening fast beta and words of encouragement.
It was an hour later that Gene walked through the doors of the dining room.
Alex's breath caught in her throat as he made his way towards her table. She'd never seen him dressed in anything other than his trademark grey suits but this morning he'd encased his impossibly long legs in faded denim, his torso in a dark blue Watson's Heavy tee shirt. Alex could feel herself drooling as she allowed her eyes to wander up his body, lingering for a moment on the junction of his thighs before moving up to his face. His hair was still spikey-damp from the shower, one lock falling across his face giving him an incongruously innocent, little boy look.
Although she was intent on watching him walk towards her, Alex could see from the corners of her eyes that nearly every female head in the room turned to watch him stalk towards her table and she couldn't help the smug feeling she got from knowing that they were, all of them, jealous as cats in heat that she was the one who would get to eat breakfast with him.
Gene was, of course, blissfully unaware of the effect he was having on the women in general and Alex in particular. He was feeling more relaxed than he had done in days, well, weeks really. A wank, a shit, a shower and a shave and he was feeling on top of the world. Plus, it was Saturday and there was football on the telly this afternoon so he'd pulled rank on Ray and Chris giving himself a few hours off the babysitting duty to watch the game. All in all, Gene Hunt was a very happy man.
"Morning Bolly" he greeted her cheerfully.
"Ah hum" she managed to reply, desperately trying to stop the red tinge that she knew was creeping up her neck towards her face.
Gene raised a quizzical eyebrow at her and picked up the breakfast menu. A waitress skidded to his side to take his order.
"Morning love. I'll have the full English - beans not tomatoes - extra black pudding and toast."
"Certainly Sir. Would you like tea or coffee with that?"
"Tea please love. I've 'ad enough coffee this morning already ta."
The waitress simpered at him and scampered off towards the kitchen.
"'S a good hotel this Bolly," Gene commented. "They deliver coffee to your room without you even having to ask. That's what I call service."
Alex just nodded and tried to tear her eyes away from his hand which was currently resting innocently enough on the pristine white tablecloth but which, in her head, was wrapped tightly around his cock moving quickly and knowingly, driving himself towards release as his eyes closed and his lips parted in helpless abandon.
She swallowed and shook her head slightly to rid herself of the image.
".......... tonight?"
"Sorry? What did you say?"
Alex was dimly aware that he had been speaking to her but hadn't heard a single word that he'd said. All she'd heard was "Fuck - Alex - Yes - Alex. YESSSSSSSS!".
Gene sighed irritably. What the hell was wrong with her this morning? "For God's sake woman. I asked whether you'd spoken to His Twatship yet. Does he want to go to this friggin' dance tonight?"
She shook her head slightly in apology. "No, not yet. I'll speak to him later. That reminds me, have you got anything decent to wear in case he does want to go? It'll be black tie and we'll need to dress appropriately if we have to go."
"Well, I hope to hell he doesn't want to. I 'ate getting dressed up like a dog's dinner and poncing about making small talk." His eyes twinkled at her as he added, "Although - you all dressed up in something swanky . . . ." his voice trailed off and he waggled a suggestive eyebrow at her. Alex felt the pink tinge start to spread across her nose and cheeks, heading for her ears.
Just then Gene's breakfast arrived and he began to wrap himself around it enthusiastically while the waitress openly stared at him with an approving glint in her eye. Alex sat back and watched him eat, desperately trying to alter her train of thought. "What are you doing?" she asked herself and repeated what had become her daily mantra "This is Gene Hunt. You do not fancy Gene Hunt. You do not want to shag Gene Hunt."
The unfortunate truth, however, was that as much as she tried to tell herself she didn't want him, the warm tide that had spread through her body as she'd watched him in the en suite wasn't dissipating, it was merely banking down, burning more quietly but just as hot. An insistent pulse beat between her legs, demanding attention and she wanted nothing more than to get her hands on him; drag him out of the dining room, up to the bedroom, throw him down on the bed and ravish him, make him writhe and beg before taking him inside her and shagging him into oblivion.
The throbbing between her legs thought that this was a brilliant idea and proceeded to give instructions as to how this could be achieved. In no time at all, Alex found herself rehearsing her lines :
Look,Gene - sorry to bring this up while you're eating, but the thing is I was watching you wanking earlier and it turned me on something rotten. I was just wondering if you would mind sorting me out as well since, by the way you screamed my name as you were coming, it was obviously me you were thinking of when you had your hand on your cock and it's been ages since I had a good seeing to.
Yeah, brilliant Alex. Very subtle.
The throbbing didn't particularly care about subtle, or embarrassment, it only cared about getting seen to. As quickly as possible.
"I'll - er- just pop up and see Sir David then shall I?" she muttered, throwing her napkin onto the table and rising from her chair.
""Yeah. Mmmm" he replied, waving his fork at her in dismissal as he settled into the serious business of polishing off his black pudding.
Alex all but ran from the dining room, desperate to put some distance between herself and the almost overwhelming temptation that was currently licking some stray tomato sauce off his fingers. A soft whimper escaped her as she watched him slowly and thoroughly clean his fingers, his tongue wrapping around each digit, lapping gently at the sauce and then slowly sucking each finger into his mouth, his cheeks hollowing slightly with the suction.
The throbbing thought that this was excellent entertainment and she was forced to give her libido a good talking to before she managed to tear her eyes away from him. This is getting ridiculous she told herself sternly as she moved quickly across the foyer to the sanctuary of the lift.
By the time she'd reached the 7th floor she'd managed to compose herself enough so that she was able to chat to Sir David with barely a tremor in her voice or a flush on her skin.
Sir David said that he certainly did want to go to the Horse Trials Ball that evening and she spent a few minutes with him making small talk about who would be there and reminding him not to leave his suite without a suitable police escort before excusing herself and headed back to her room, now desperate for some time alone to think.
Going back to the room was a mistake and Alex realised it as soon as she walked through the door.
Housekeeping hadn't yet been up to make up the bed and clean the bathroom, so she was met by the sight of rumpled bedlinen and the subtle scent of soap and Old Spice still drifting through the air.
Her stomach turned over and the throbbing leapt up another gear, now turning into an actual ache. She sank onto the sofa with a despairing groan, rolling over onto her side and covering her face with her hands only to find that she'd made yet another mistake.
The blankets Gene had slept in the night before were still draped over the sofa cushions and, Oh God! she could still smell him on them. Pressing her face into the sheets she inhaled deeply.
Why did he have to smell so damn good? she wondered miserably. He was everything she didn't want in a man - moody, overbearing, shouty and arrogant. So why did she turn into a puddle of goo every time she was near him? Why did just the scent of him make her want to run her bra up a flagpole, drop to her knees in front of him and beg?
And why was he the reason she had to keep changing her knickers on such a regular basis? She'd even taken to carrying a clean pair around with her - just in case one of his growls, or a twinkly blue eye set her off again.
She stretched her legs out and lay prone on the sofa, eyes closed and surrounded by the scent of Gene. Almost without realising it, she began absently stroking her face and neck with the sheet, imprinting him on her skin. If she couldn't have the real thing then at least she could spend the day with his scent all over her.
Behind her closed eyes, she pictured him again as she'd seen him that morning, lingering over every tiny detail of his body; his incredible legs, so long and well shaped; his arse, round, tight and flexing as he helplessly thrust into his hand; his back and broad shoulders, rigid with tension, rolling with the rapid strokes of his hips. And then he'd turned around . . .
She felt a fresh surge of wetness between her legs as she recalled feasting her eyes on him, one of his hands stretching and fondling his heavy, full balls, kneading and caressing them, the other stroking his straining cock, gliding over the silky skin, smearing his natural lubricant over his length, the little twist of his wrist on the upstroke which made him writhe and moan.
Oh well, there was nothing else for it, she was too far gone to stop now.
Alex's hand made quick work of the button and zip on her jeans, sliding down to her wet, overheated folds, fingers flickering deftly across her clit, instinctively finding the right rhythm. Her other hand reached into her blouse, pinching and pulling her her nipple. Her arousal was shockingly intense, driven upwards by her fevered recollections, bringing her almost painfully quickly to the point of no return.
Her mind's eye roved over his body, remembering his shallow, panted breaths; his head falling back, soft hair brushing against his shoulders; his mouth falling open into a helpless "O" of pleasure; his entire body stilling, rigid and tense before he came, violently, her name drawn breathlessly from his lips, hips bucking and twisting uncontrollably . . . .
"Oh . . bloody . . .fuckin' hell . . . GENE!"
Alex crashed into orgasm, freefalling with red stars flashing behind her eyes - finally released.
For a while she could do nothing but lie there, one hand shoved awkwardly down the front of her jeans, her wrist starting to ache with the unnatural angle, the other tangled in her bra, her breath rasping in and out of her as her heartbeat finally slowed back to normal.
She didn't hear the soft closing of the door or the unsteady footsteps making their way back down the corridor . . . .
TBC