A little bit of smutty Galex just to cheer up a miserable January day. Hope you enjoy.

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The Eve of St Agnes

Chapter 1

It was that time of the evening. Both of them merry without being too pissed, flirtatious without being too crude and wondering if tonight might be the night they finally made a move on each other. She was looking at his mouth again, and it sent a shiver of desire down his spine. He really didn't want to go home.

"Any chance of kippin' on yer sofa, Bols? It's brass monkeys out there and me house is freezin'."

Her eyes moved back up to meet his gaze and she grinned.

"Don't know why you bother asking, Gene. You haven't been home for days, no wonder the house is cold."

He pouted.

"Don' think my house likes me very much."

She giggled, and he leant in to whisper in her ear.

"Tell anyone I said that and I'll stamp on yer pretty little head, mind."

Her perfume was intoxicating this close up, and it was all he could do to resist pressing his lips to her neck, but she stood before he had the chance.

"Right, time for bed?"

He smirked at her.

"Thought yer'd never ask, Lady Bols. Lead on."

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It was a freezing cold January night, and Alex wrapped her arms round herself for warmth as they left Luigi's. She really must get herself a warm coat, that leather jacket was really no substitute in this weather. Her high-heeled boots clicked on the frosty ground, and she could see her breath in the pale glow from the streetlight. It really was fortunate that Gene was right behind when her feet went from under her, she thought, as her arms wound round his neck and her nose was filled with the delicious masculine scent of him. After all, she might have fallen and hurt herself otherwise.

She couldn't get a grip on the icy surface, slipping and sliding, legs flailing and she heard him chuckle as he hoisted her up into his arms.

"Bloody hell, it's like watching Bambi. Yer not safe out on yer own, woman."

She got a sudden fit of the giggles, burying her face in his neck while he carried her up the stairs and deposited her outside her door, breathing heavily.

"Jesus, I'm gettin' too old for this. What 'appened ter the Christmas diet, Bols?"

"Cheeky …"

Slapping his arm, she turned and slipped her key into the lock, welcoming the warmth as they stepped through the door and Gene locked it behind them.

"Thank God Luigi managed to get the central heating working, it's lovely to have a warm flat again. Nightcap?"

She poured them both a generous glass of wine, and sat next to him on the sofa tucking her feet underneath her. He picked up the book she'd been reading earlier, and opened it at the bookmark.

"What's this then? 'The Eve of St Agnes'. Didn't know yer were into poetry, Bols?"

She smiled at him and took a sip of wine. He thought she'd never looked lovelier, her eyes glowing in the soft light from the lamp.

"It's John Keats, I found it on the shelf the other day. We did that one at school a long time ago. 'St Agnes Eve, ah bitter chill it was.' It's tonight, Gene. Twentieth of January."

"Got that one right then, didn't he? Bitter chill about sums it up."

"You should read it, Gene. It's all about illicit passion and seduction."

His eyebrows shot up.

"Might just do that, Bols."

"Really? Didn't see you as the poetry reading type."

He pouted, but there was a wicked glint in his eye.

"I'm not, normally. I am, 'owever, the illicit passion and seduction type. 'Ow about it, luv?"

She snorted, downing the last of her wine and heading for the bedroom.

"In your dreams, Guv."

He smirked, eyes glued to her swaying behind.

"Most of the time actually, Bols."

She grinned broadly to herself.

"Night, Gene."

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He found he wasn't quite ready to sleep, so he poured himself another glass of wine and picked up the book again, wondering if she'd been winding him up.

'They told her how, upon St Agnes Eve

Young virgins might have visions of delight

And soft adorings from their loves receive

Upon the honey'd middle of the night.'

He loosened his tie and made himself comfortable, feet up on the table, long legs crossed at the ankle. Alex sneaked a peek round the doorway and stifled a giggle. Gene Hunt was reading poetry. Now she really had seen it all. She tiptoed quietly back to the bedroom.

Gene read on. It wasn't half bad, surprisingly.

'Into her dream he melted, as the rose

Blendeth it's odour with the violet

Solution sweet …'

Blimey. Dream shagging, that was a new one on him. He yawned and stretched. Time to get some shut-eye, hopefully. He was just on his way back from the bathroom when he heard a low moan, and the sound went straight to his groin. The bedroom door was slightly ajar, and he couldn't resist peeping in.

She was lying flat on her back, hair spread like a dark cloud over the pillow, her eyes tightly closed. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the vision, and then suddenly she spoke in her sleep.

"Mmmm, Gene … don't stop …"

Bloody hell, she was dreaming about him! And judging by her little sighs and gasps, and the way she was writhing under the covers, he was finally getting to have his wicked way with her. As he watched, the covers slipped down exposing her bare breasts, and his breath caught in his throat, his trousers feeling suddenly too tight.

"Ohhh, Gene … harder … "

It was more than any red-blooded male could stand, and suddenly he had an idea …

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Hope you enjoyed - all reviews very welcome, as ever. I suspect there may be a second chapter over the weekend. :)