I don't own Ashes to Ashes. The BBC, Kudos and Monastic do.
This is for all the fabulous ladies over in the smut pit on TRA, who wanted shower smut and especially Laura, whose amazing thread gave birth to this fic. As you've probably guessed, there's no plot. Tiny spoiler for S3 Ep1.
Sheriff in the Shower
It was a quiet Sunday morning. There had been no calls worthy of CID presence and as such no-one else was in. Gene Hunt sat alone in his office, reviewing evidence and signing off arrest diaries. As he completed the last one and closed the file, he knocked back the last of his scotch in quiet triumph at having completed his task and having the rest of the day to sit in the pub and watch City knock seven types of shit out of Chelsea.
Standing up and stretching out his limbs, he pulled on his jacket and picked up the completed files. Striding out his office and closing the door behind him, Gene strode over to Shaz's desk and placed the pile on her desk for filing in the morning. Straightening up and making his way towards the door, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the countdown timer that Chris had brought up from the gym during the Dorothy Blond case. Gene hadn't even known they had a gym and was loathe to be seen in one, dismissing them as being for poofs and tossers. That said, it might have a punchbag, which would come in useful on the days when the site of his DI wiggling her arse in his direction became all too much and it was all he could do not to rush off to the gents and relieve himself with a flick of his wrist. Going down to the gym and thumping a punchbag for half an hour could be just what he needed, so he decided to go and investigate.
Walking out of the squad room and down the corridor, he reached reception and realised he had no idea where the gym was located. The cogs of his mind whirring, Gene figured that it must be in the basement as there was no way the super and other big nobs at the station would share their floors with some sweaty PCs. Hurrying down the stairwell and reaching the basement, he took the first door on his left and found the stationary cupboard. Trying the next one, it opened up into a small room containing three exercise bikes, two treadmills and a set of weights in the corner. Hardly what you'd call a gym, he thought, closing the door behind him.
Figuring he'd try one more, Gene moved to the next door and opened it. Inside the room was a set of mats and three punchbags. Bingo, thought Gene, as he walked towards the middle one and prodded it cautiously. It felt just like the ones he had used in the boxing club in Manchester he'd gone to as a teenager and the memories came flooding back as he hit it gently at first, building up into rhythm. Working up a sweat, he took off his jacket and shirt, shoes and socks. Darting and weaving around it, landing punches at varying heights, Gene felt a sense of release of months of anger and frustration. He thought of nothing except the contact between his fist and the leather. Eventually, he stopped, panting and sweaty, wiping his brow with his shirt and gathering up his shoes, socks and jacket. There must be a bloody shower in this place, he thought, as he closed the door and padded barefoot down the corridor to the next door. Opening it, he noticed it was empty, except for some mats and realising it wasn't the locker room, he closed it again and moved to the next one.
He heard the water running as soon as he opened the door, but figuring it was one of the plods in the shower at the far end, thought nothing of it and began to undress. Naked, he walked towards the nearest cubicle but stopped dead when he heard the unmistakable voice of his DI singing softly to herself. Shit, he thought, raising his eye to the heavens and feeling a twitch in his groin, as the thought of Alex Drake naked and soapy only a few feet away began to take effect. There was only one thing for it, get in the shower and hope she didn't realise he was there. Women take ages in the bathroom, he reasoned, I could be in and out before she finished.
Stepping into a cubicle and turning on the water, Gene tried desperately to ignore the images of his naked DI currently running through his mind and think of Ray's hairy backside and Chris eating a kebab. Just as he was starting to breathe a sigh of relief, he realised the water in the other cubicle had stopped.
"Hello? Who's there?" Alex's voice echoed around the tiled locker room. Gene contemplated his options; ignore her and pretend he hadn't heard, or suffer the embarrassment of identifying himself and risking a punch in the gob if she thought he had been spying on her. Deciding the former was the best option, Gene remained silent, leaning back under the shower and letting the water cascade over his head and down his back.
Cautiously Alex poked her head around the shower curtain, checking no-one was there. Reaching for her towel, she wrapped it around her and stepped out of the shower. She tiptoed across the room and stopped by the bench where she had left her clothes. Alex towelled herself dry quickly and put on her underwear. After wrapping her hair in the towel, she started to put on her jeans. Just as she finished buttoning them, she heard the water in the other cubicle stop. About to call out again, a familiar pain of crocodile boots caught her attention. Grinning to herself, she contemplated her next move. Knowing he wouldn't come out until he thought she had gone, she pulled on her t-shirt and made her way over to the door, pulled it open and then shut it again. Alex counted to five in her head and right on cue, Gene's head poked out from the cubicle.
It was a split second before his gaze reached her, but as it did she locked onto it, her face full of mischief.
"Bolls, what the bloody hell are you playing at?" Gene spluttered.
"Me? You were the one pretending you weren't there first!"
"I was trying to be a gentleman! I didn't realise you were in 'ere until you started singing! Didn't want you thinking I'm a dirty perv!"
"So rather than just admitting that, you thought it would be better to ignore me! Gene, that makes you seem like you were perving!" Alex was barely able to suppress her laughter.
"Will you just shut up with your psychiatry bollocks and pass me my clothes? I'm freezing my knackers off in 'ere!"
"Psychology, Gene! And for that, I'm not going to pass you your clothes, you'll have to come out here and get them!" Alex folded her arms, making it clear she wasn't moving.
"Bolly, I'm starkers in 'ere!"
"What's the matter, Gene? You're always banging on about the impressive size of your manhood, scared it won't measure up?"
"Don't talk crap, Bolly. Even in the bloody Arctic, the Little Sheriff would intimidate the dormouse-sized knobs of those Thatcherites you're so fond of shagging!"
"It was ONE Thatcherite, Gene, and you'll pay for that!" Alex rushed towards the pile of Gene's clothes just a couple of feet away from his cubicle and gathered them up in her arms. As she turned around and started to make towards the door, she felt a strong vice-like grip on her arm and a bolt of electricity run up her spine.
"Give me my clothes, Alex."
Gene's voice was a low rumble as she slowly turned and started to raise her head. Her gaze moved slowly up from the floor, her face flushing as she noted that in his haste to stop her running off with his clothes, Gene had neglected to cover his modesty.
"It's rude to stare, Bolly. Not that I blame you, it's a well-known fact posh todgers are smaller than Manc ones."
Meeting his gaze, Alex licked her lips, leaned forward and whispered in his ear.
"It's not all about size, Gene, it's what you can do with it that counts."
Her hot breath on the shell of his ear was enough to send all the blood in Gene's body southwards. He pulled her towards him and brought his lips crashing down on hers. Alex dropped his clothes and wrapped her arms around his neck and twirled her fingers in his hair. Gene ran his hands down her back, clawing at her t-shirt, while their tongues duelled frantically, wanting to explore and taste each other.
Feeling his hardness against her thigh, coupled with the sound of his moans in her ear, Alex felt her knees weaken and the heat pooling between her thighs. Leaning her head back, allowing Gene to kiss and nip his way down her neck, the towel she had turbaned on her head fell to the floor. Pushing him back into the cubicle, she peeled off her t-shirt and wriggled out of her jeans.
Gene pulled her towards him and kissed her hungrily, manoeuvring her so that she was pinned against the wall. Massaging her breasts, he felt her writhing against him, the friction of her cotton underwear moving against his length almost too much. He could feel she was ready and this spurred him on to indulge in one of the many fantasies he had had about his DI.
"You're filthy, Bolls. Think it's time you let the Gene Genie clean you up," he growled, reaching over and turning on the water. As the warm water cascaded down over them, Gene reached behind her and unhooked her bra, flinging it over the shower curtain rail. Taking her right nipple between his teeth he moved his hands down her body, lower and lower sliding her knickers down her legs. Alex kicked them off of her feet and brought one leg up and wrapped it around him, as Gene's fingers parted her folds and began pumping gently into her molten core.
"Gosh, Gene... so good..." Alex babbled incoherently as she bucked against his fingers, trying to find the angle to give her maximum pleasure. As he felt her reach the edge, Gene pulled away, wanting to make her wait but giving into his own desire and thrusting into her roughly.
Alex looked at him through heavily lidded eyes, droplets of water on her eyelashes, her wet hair in tendrils around her face. They moved in rhythm, Alex pulling him closer, causing him to thrust deeper and deeper into her, the pair of them moaning as they surged towards their peak. Feeling her walls clamping down around him, Gene bit down hard on Alex's shoulder as her orgasm brought him to his and he came hard.
Panting and exhausted, they stayed perfectly still until their breathing started to return to normal. Alex stood on both feet, as Gene slipped out of her and turned to lean against the wall next to her.
"Well, I have to admit, Gene, the 'Little Sheriff' certainly measured up." She motioned quotation marks with her fingers.
"Told you, Bolls. But for goodness sake, give it a rest with the finger-waggling!"
Alex raised her eyebrows. "Seriously though, Gene, the Little Sheriff?"
"Better than Helter-Skelton," he scoffed, waggling his eyebrows and pulling her towards him. "Now then Bolls, how about we take this over to yours and christen your bathroom?"