Lust Unmitigated

Gene felt the crush of flesh beneath his knuckles and the familiar gush of warm blood against the leather on his hand when he slammed it into Brian Duffy's face. It was the perfect angle to lay the little scrote flat on his back.

"Guv, that's enough."

Sam Tyler was standing to the side, cross like his arms. He was a referee at a rowdy match, not willing to get his hands dirty but the first to pull out the fickle yellow card for Gene's unsporting behavior.

"I'll tell you when he's had enough," Gene barked, but he shook the blood from his hands and didn't lay into the man as he had intended.

DI Tyler assumed his guv regarded his strictness with contempt, because if Gene continued to threaten their suspect that meant he wasn't listening. On the contrary, Gene was very carefully obeying. He would follow Sam's orders, in this case no more using Duffy as a punching bag, but he wanted his DI to be even stricter with him. Sam only told him to stop but didn't embellish his commands, never told Gene to keep his hands by his side, to stand step back, or to humbly mutter an apology. In response Gene rebelled, trying to provoke his detective.

The disregard Sam thought he saw in Gene was really a hunger for stricter commands.

"Word is you've been a bad boy, Duffy. But now the Gene Genie's 'ere to punish you." The sheriff grabbed the unfortunate man by his lapels, shaking him because Gene wasn't allowed to hit.

"You've got the wrong person Mr. Hunt! I wasn't even there, skipped out early for a bridge game. I knew it were wrong but a man needs his diversions."

"That's it then." Sam stepped in, blowing his whistle.

The game was up; this sorry bloke was a dead end, a useless tosser in their pursuit. Gene gripped Duffy tighter, clenching his teeth because the impotence of these moments made him crave what he couldn't have. This would end as it always did: some one runs away with nothing more than a nose bleed, Sam curtly makes his disapproval known, and Gene is left with nothing but the flagellation of his conscience for penance. The repression of this need made Gene dangerous, not his bulk or his height.

"Let him go." Sam sighed, when he saw his guv still tensed and ready for a fight. The weariness in his voice deflated any of Gene's excitement and he let go of their suspect as if the 5'7" 15 stone Irish man were really a porcelain doll.

When they were back at CID Sam took the opportunity to verbally chastise him, just like Gene knew he would.

"Some day you'll go too far, guv. You'll be looking at your hand smashed through a skull and wondering how it got there."

Hunt looked up over the newspaper he was pretending to peruse. "Would you stop me, when that day comes?"

Sam furrowed his brows, perplexed by the question and trying to dig through the desk of Gene's mind. "Yes. I might be the only one who can."

The self-assurance with which Sam Tyler swaggered through CID never gained him any friends but the absolute certainty that his DI had at that moment, that he was the only one who could usurp him in either mind or body (Gene was willing to give a little on the body side), made Hunt grip his paper as if he were going to throttle Brian Duffy all over again.

"But I hope that day never comes," Sam insisted. "Because you can't solve everything with a punch. These are innocent people you assault and some day all of this is going to come back to haunt us."

Gene tossed his paper aside. "When I was I born the doctor struck me across the bum."

Sam blinked. "Wot?"

"I was as innocent as I could be then, you think I deserved that?"

"Well I…I don't think that counts."

"And when I finally started sprouting my first hairs I was beaten by my very good father who loved my brother and I so much he made sure we watched each other's woopings. Course neither of us minded that much because if we didn't man up and take it our mum was next on the list."

"I'm sorry Gene…I didn't—"

"My father was a good man who worked hard to make sure his family had something to eat, just liked to drink too much and remember how his old bastard beat him."

"So it's cyclical."

"No Tyler, what's cyclical is thinking fair is fair. No one's innocent, not really. Our job's just to make sure most of 'em don't commit any of the big No-No's."

"No." Sam shook his head, mentally committing this conversation to that list. "You're wrong. That's not an excuse to go hitting everyone who looks at you funny."

Suddenly DCI Hunt was hovering above Sam, pointing a cheek flushed red with frustration, adrenaline and desire. "Prove it then, teach me a lesson, go on."

Sam stepped back. "I'm not gonna hit you."

"C'mon. Free shot. Right here."

"Give over."

"…What if I asked you to?"

"You're not serious?" Sam questioned, unnerved because he really wasn't sure. "Look if it's a punch up you want then pick a pub but don't ask me."

Dejected once again and reprimanding himself for it, Gene shrunk back. "You girl."

"Well why does it—look," Sam gritted his own teeth in vexation, "first of all you're not doing anything wrong, okay? I mean, you're sort of weirding me out but you're not doing anything wrong. So I don't 'ave to stop you, so I'm not gonna hit ya."

"What if I said I deserved it?"

"Well sometimes I think you do," Sam scoffed.

His guv stiffened. "I took backhanders before you came."

"I know. That's in the past now."

"You said it yourself I'm a danger to everyone with a runny nose or a lazy eye."

"….Gene."

"I swear at little old ladies, I don't always wash me hands after a piss, I haven't changed the rubbish bin at home for over two weeks. Pick something."

Sam only stared at him, lost and confused: the idiot. Gene had nothing left to say, could only show his detective what he desired, needed, so fully. He loosened the paisley tie around the pink collar of his neck, getting down on his knees. Even here he felt too tall as Sam stared, opening and closing his mouth like a gaping fish.

"Wot are you doing?"

"I'm asking you," Gene whispered softly, "to prove yourself right. You were so sure of yourself a moment ago…Sam."

But Sam looked more lost than he had the day he stumbled into CID. He couldn't find the door quick enough, leaving his guv on that cold concrete floor.

That night Gene confessed to Phyllis he was infatuated with his DI.