What would he like best? Slutty, elegant? A mix?
Alex hummed 'Take The Long Way Home' under her breath as she perused her wardrobe, standing only in her bra and knickers- matching, cherry-red, lots of lace, bought with her DCI subconsciously in mind- and standing on a pile of discarded fabric. I'll have to tidy up before he comes. Plenty of time, it's only five. I want everything to be perfect.
Trevor Wren's arrest had meant that CID had very little to do for the rest of the afternoon; Gene had dismissed them for an early night, his ulterior motive, she suspected, to go home and ready himself for seven. On their way out, just after reminding him that he should be there for seven (not that he really needed reminding) she'd told him to get a bandage on his arm: whether he'd taken her advice or not, she was curious to find out. Alex had rushed home, showered and started planning her outfit, food, music, the table... pretty much everything she could plan for their night. She smiled inwardly at herself, flicking through hangers and picking out a top, a simple soft peach peasant blouse she'd found at one of the designer shops lining the quieter streets of Fenchurch. Pair that with a charcoal pencil skirt, and black heels... are stockings too obvious? If I hide them away... yes, like that. And what about make-up? Softer eyeshadow... what compliments the shirt? Just a little bit of black, maybe? Yes, and a little flick at the edge- perfect. Mascara. Little more. Lipstick- keep with paler colours, compliment the peach. Yes, that's nice. That'll have him drooling. Hopefully.
Clothing and face sorted, she headed into the kitchen, frowning. The smell of cooking hardly made for a perfect, romantic date, but she had to find that steak and chips somewhere. I'm sure Luigi will sort it out for me.
The table now. She moved over to the cutlery drawer, examining the dented forks and scraped knives she found there. Hardly attractive. Fine for muesli and salad, but is that going to cut a steak? she thought, picking up a battered knife that had, even in the dim light from the candle on the table, seen better days. It'd be like trying to decapitate someone with a stick. Luigi, I need you to come to the rescue again... at least the tablecloth looks nice.
Sighing over the inadequacies of her flat, and half-wishing they were eating somewhere else, Alex retired to her bedroom to touch up her hair for the fifth time since she'd got home, glancing at the clock. Ten past five! Oh God...
Gene's day wasn't going well.
This morning, he'd stepped out of bed only to find that next door's cat had decided to nap on his rug; a lot of stroking and a can of tuna chunks later and the cat had forgiven him, but the shock of hearing his floor yowl like a banshee had nearly stopped Gene's heart. The old biddy next door would probably give him an earful when he got home for disturbing her, too. Then he'd had a phone call from the Super about his team's discipline, and a mountain of paperwork to fill in on what had happened to the blagger Ray had interviewed the previous week. Finding long words to put in there instead of short ones had taken it out of him; by the time Trevor Wren had been sighted, he'd been contemplating hari-kari with his tie. His arm was aching after its encounter with a piece of metal sticking out of a brick wall. Bastard builders. The only light at the end of the tunnel was his date with Alex... and that wasn't just a light, it was more like a supernova, blinding him if he so much as glanced at it.
So Gene pushed it to the back of his mind and concentrated on driving like a maniac home.
His day didn't improve when he parked outside his house, either; Mrs Robinson, leaning out of her window, had spotted the Quattro and had been waiting to give him a bollocking for waking her that morning. Gene managed, with a Herculean effort, to endure her shrieking long enough to run into his house, wherupon he promptly stepped into a puddle of cat vomit and hairball.
"Oh, bloody hell..."
The cat, looking rather smug, was perched on his armchair; Gene took a deep breath to prevent himself kicking it, slipping his boot off and propping it upside-down on the stairs while he found some newspaper and the cleaning stuff that had been festering, unused, under the stairs for as long as he could remember.
A can of Ajax and an entire Daily Herald later and his hallway finally smelled halfway decent again. Gene washed the sick off his boot, ignoring the twinges of pain from his cut arm. His sleeve was sticking unpleasantly to the ripped skin, jerking at it every time he moved, and when he stripped off to shower it had turned a nasty yellow colour in places, oozing when he gingerly pressed a fingertip to it. Shit. Maybe Bolly was right. Bloody know-it-all. The hot water stung, but washed some of the yellow away; assuming that was a good thing, Gene proceeded to ferret out an old bandage from the corner of a cupboard, cautiously wrapping it round the cut. The cat watched contentedly, bright green eyes studying him almost sceptically from underneath a white patch on its head.
"What? Don't fancy it goin' septic," Gene muttered as he passed it, feeling its lamp-like eyes on him as he headed through into the kitchen to get some whisky. The cat mewed.
"No, I don't 'ave that antiseppic stuff. I'll make do."
"Maow?"
"No, I am not wastin' good scotch on my bloody arm."
"Miew."
"No, I don't know why I'm talkin' ter a bloody cat either. Piss off, I 'ave ter get ready. Got a date. Human equivalent o' you shovin' some moggie against a wall an' wakin' everyone up wi' yer shaggin'."
Gene stalked upstairs, resolving to board up the cat flap the previous owner of the house had put in, and started looking over his wardrobe, trying to guess what Alex would like. Not that he'd admit he was getting dressed up solely for his DI. Blame it on the scotch.
Ten minutes later and he cut his cheek shaving, startled by the sound of the cat yowling downstairs. For the second time that day, he wondered about strangling himself.
"Get out, yer bastard!" he yelled towards the lounge, one hand clasped over the dribble of blood on his face, the other clutching his razor so hard it left an imprint on his hand. The cat mewled in answer, but at least it quietened to allow Gene some peace to get ready.
Eventually he was in the kitchen sinking another whisky, dressed in a dark purple shirt with two buttons undone at the throat, allowing his gold chain to peek through, untucked from grey trousers and ending with his snakeskin boots, recently cleaned. A spritz of Brut and aftershave finished the piece; Gene wondered if London had made him go soft, examining his reflection in the tall hall mirror and wondering whether Alex would laugh or melt. The cat slithered over, rubbing its head against his ankles, leaving orange hairs stuck to his trousers.
"Bugger off!"
The cat fixed him with soulful eyes, rolling onto its back and miaowing up at him, wriggling gently; Gene sighed, bending down to give its belly a tickle, a smile tweaking at his face despite himself as the cat purred, pawing at his hand when he paused to look up at the clock.
"Bloody 'ell, 'ate cats."
We both know that's not true, the cat's knowing look seemed to say. Gene groaned.
Just get out the door before yer start singin' Duran Duran an' wearin' pink socks. Poofter.
He just made it to the Quattro before Mrs Robinson, complaining about more noise, started throwing pot plants at him.
Ten past seven. Alex chewed her lip, looking in the mirror, then down at herself, and once again out of the window, her whole existence feeling like it was in limbo until Gene arrived. It was utterly unlike him to be late; she couldn't remember the last time he'd rolled into CID past nine, the last time he'd delayed in meeting with her. Her heart thudded as her imagination, ever-vivid, started creating less than pleasant possibilities: had he had an accident? He drives like an idiot at the best of times. What if the dark caught him out? What if nobody's spotted or heard the Quattro going off the road? What if he'd fallen ill? Would anyone be there to find out? Christ, anything could have happened to him at home alone. He could've fallen, could've collapsed, hit his head, broken his neck, broken his leg, arm, fractured his skull...
"Bolly?"
Alex almost jumped out of her skin, lost in a waking nightmare of herself rushing to the hospital to find Gene on life support. I have got to stop reading case files before I go to bed, it's turning me into some kind of reverse hypochondriac.
"Why are you late?" she demanded, opening the door... and almost forgot how to breathe.
Gene was standing there, cradling a bunch of roses that blended perfectly with the deep purple shirt he was sporting, looking decidedly awkward and nervous. She barely noticed him fidgeting as she looked him over, unaware that she was too obscured by the darkness of her hallway for him to do the same with her; the shirt open at the throat, giving her a tantalising glimpse of firm, pale chest, untucked from the grey trousers loose enough to let him move and just tight enough to show off the long, long legs and firmly tapered buttocks... ooh God. Ooh God. I could have an accident in my knickers with him just standing there.
"Sorry I'm late... went ter pick these up... now can I come in?"
His voice, the plastered-on grumpiness nearly managing to cover some of the hesitation in his tone, shook her out of her trance, and she hurriedly stepped aside, letting the light from the kitchen hit her body.
Gene gulped.
She looks this good fer me?
His eyes drank in her beauty, the slim body emphasised and complimented by the peasant blouse, her skin set aglow and her hair afire by the soft, feminine colours, the slim charcoal skirt, perfect legs in sheer stockings (at least he hoped- no, prayed they were) and topped off by simple, classic black heels. Utterly beautiful. Utterly stunning... and all for him. Gene wondered somewhere in the back of his mind if people could die from an overdose of gorgeousness.
"Well, are you coming in?" Alex asked gently, her cheeks glowing with a mixture of pleasure and blusher. He notices... and he likes!
Gene stepped over the threshold, swallowing hard as he pressed the roses into her hands. White roses, glamorous and a little different to the norm. Not cheap either, from the looks of them.
"Thank you, Gene. They're beautiful," she murmured, lifting them to her face to smell them, finding a mixture of sublime rose fragrance and something else, something more masculine, passionate, that she assumed must be from Gene carrying them. A combination of a deep, strangely firm scent that she assumed was just Gene himself, and something a little more tangy. Brut. She remembered buying it for a male friend sometime in the 2000s, when older scents were more in fashion; it hadn't fitted him, a meek young man working in IT, but it blended into an aroma she couldn't imagine Gene without.
"So're you," Gene muttered, wondering if his cheeks were bright red. Long time since I complimented a woman... got ter get back inter practice. Alex's head snapped up, a beam appearing on her face.
"Thank you, Gene. You're looking very good yourself."
She motioned to the dark purple shirt, already certain that it would be starring in several fantasies if this evening didn't end the way her subconscious had planned. God, could he look much more edible? Sod the steak, I'd prefer to be getting my lips round something just as juicy with him in that...
"Cheers," Gene grunted. Got ter get back inter practice at receivin' them too.
"So," Alex said confidently, placing the roses in a vase filled with water (put there in anticipation) and reverting to her hostess-with-the-mostest attitude. "Shall we adjourn to the kitchen? Steak and chips awaits."
Gene's eyes gleamed.
"Sounds good." His eyes raked her body once again, savouring her like a connoisseur. Although somethin' looks better...
Alex moved slightly closer to him on their way to the kitchen, brushing his hand gently as she moved over to the table; Gene smiled, hurrying over to draw out her chair for her, admiring the view as she sat down. Christ... won't be able ter restrain myself if we're eatin' fer too long.
Alex got a good look at his own sculpted rear as he moved over to sit down, licking her lips while his back was turned. Dear Jesus... won't be able to restrain myself if we take too long over dinner.
Gene perched almost nervously on Alex's opposite chair, butterflies not so much swarming in his stomach as attacking it. For a moment he wondered if he was going to be sick. Oh please God, let me 'old me bloody breakfast in. He wondered if the lack of food would send him over the edge... but when Alex started cutting up her steak, pouring wine for both of them, he managed to resurrect his appetite, his eyes fixed on her lips as she chewed, oblivious to the fact that hers were also hungrily devouring the sight of him along with her mouthful of beef.
"Cheers," he said in a voice that sounded a little unlike his own, holding up the wineglass. Alex reciprocated his actions, clinking the glasses together as they drank in synchronisation, eyes never leaving each others'.
Gradually, a mixture of the wine, food and gentle atmosphere relaxed both of them; Gene realised with relief that, after his third mouthful of steak, the butterflies seemed to have stopped knifing his insides, and Alex, having seen his shoulders gradually lose their tense stance, was beginning to slip into being Alex rather than Alex Drake, making little jokes and sarcastic comebacks, delighting in each time Gene's eyes lit up with laughter or glee or passion. Talk flowed easily after the third glass of wine, but when Alex offered more Gene declined it, wanting a clear head for the rest of the evening, and so she did the same, not wanting him to be too drunk to keep up with her- plans- for the rest of the evening.
Eventually the plates were stacked in the sink, cutlery sluiced off and returned to Luigi; both had tried to ignore his warbling of "ah, belle amore..." for the subsequent half an hour, stifling laughter each time his strong Italian voice drifted up through the floor. Luigi's was quiet, with most of the team less rowdy for the absence of their DCI; Gene and Alex were in near silence in the flat, Gene slouched on the sofa with Alex sitting at his feet, idly playing with his socks.
"You full? I didn't think of pudding," she murmured, poking a finger in between his toes. Gene grinned.
"Really? I found somethin' just as good."
"What?" Alex asked, expecting him to produce a cake or something from some invisible pocket for a mad second. He rolled his eyes, reaching out to pull her into a one-armed hug.
"You, yer daft bint."
Alex blushed profusely, intoxicated by the sound of his chuckling, the gentle lull of his heart on her cheek as he held her, the lazy rhythm slow and assured against her.
"Thank you."
Gene squeezed her gently, frowning as he heard something rustling from her pocket; Alex, already red, blushed scarlet. Oh no... oh no... please don't, Gene... not yet...
"Bolly?"
Seeing only one option- hide it under the sofa- Alex gave him a slightly shaky coy look, slipped out from under his arm and dived to the floor.
Eh?
Gene, slightly confused now, laughed at her, sliding off the sofa himself, tickling her to distract her; Alex doubled up laughing, trying to fend him off with shrieks of "GENE! STOP IT, PLEASE- AH, GENE!", just about registering his laughter, a big kid again, as he scrabbled for whatever it was she was trying to hide. Ah shit!
Gene stopped abruptly as his fingers found the familiar smooth packet, his eyes widening as he lifted it to eye level, Alex lapsing into a shocked silence.
Sitting innocently between his fingers was a condom, still in its packaging.
After a few more seconds of speechlessness, Gene's tongue untied itself, just about capable of speech again.
"Well, well, Bolly. Decided ter come prepared, did we?"
Alex bit her lip, a smile threatening her cheeks at the same time as wetness pooled between her thighs at the sight of him, holding the condom packet, a sly smirk on his face. You didn't have to put quite so much effort on the word "come", you smug bastard.
"It's what I was taught at posh girl school, Gene... plan ahead..."
It was reckless to pretty much tell Gene that this was a planned seduction, but Alex, beginning to think with her groin rather than her brain, threw caution to the winds, staring him straight in the eyes, her cheeks red but her gaze straight. The grin dropped from Gene's lips as though it had turned to lead.
"You- you serious?"
Alex simply nodded.
Gene held her gaze for a second longer, and then, unable to bear another second of this exquisite torture, dipped his head and met her lips with his.
Oh God.
She'd guessed he'd be a good kisser, but this was off the Richter Scale. His lips worked hers sensuously, rhythmically, finding what she liked and repeating, caressing her tongue with his as he lapped at the seam of her mouth, gently requesting permission. She allowed him in with a sigh, tasting his masculine, musky, oh so human tongue, gentle and insistent at the same time, giving her a silent choice for who would take dominance.
Right, Alex, you're a modern girl. Time to take control.
Gene murmured against her lips as she forced his tongue away, thrusting her own into his mouth; the taste of him grew stronger, all but overwhelming her, his moistness and softness so nearly her undoing. Her lips curved upwards as she felt him backing down, physically shrinking away as she assaulted his tongue with hers, opening her eyes briefly to see his closed, the elegant eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks.
Taking pity on him, she relented, softening her bruising kiss; he pulled away carefully, giving her lips one last caress before drawing too far away for her to reach him. Alex moaned with loss, opening her eyes to see his swollen lips and brightened eyes, the quirky smile she was growing to adore.
"I think we should take this ter the bedroom, Bolly."
Alex cocked her head on one side, a devilish grin playing about her thoroughly-kissed lips; Gene wondered if there was any blood left in the rest of his body to rush southwards.
"Mm, yes, sounds a good idea to me..."
Gene's eyebrows rose.
"Good?"
Alex giggled huskily, her grin widening as he groaned lightly, the roguishly-innocent sound too much for him to bear.
"Alright then, incredibly temping, amazing, utterly desirable, and completely fucking fandabbydosy!"
She laughed out loud as Gene pulled away from her, sweeping her up into his arms and planting his lips on hers again, his eyes bright and yet dark with lust as he bore her into her bedroom, laying her gently on the bed and sitting back on his haunches, perched on the edge, his eyes seeking her permission to continue.
"Gene," Alex panted, suddenly breathless with the change of atmosphere: here he was, the Manc Lion, hers and only hers, utterly magnificent, at her command. He smiled gently, such a contrast to the DCI she knew she wondered briefly whether this was the same man.
"Gene. Undress me," she whispered, her eyes boring into his- or was it the other way around? She couldn't tell- as they held each other's gaze, electricity arcing through the air between them, spitting and crackling in time with Alex's ragged breathing, the unsteady, nervous thump of Gene's heart. He ducked his head, the smile still playing round his lips; he seemed unable to remove it.
As though he was touching some precious, irreparable and irreplacable jewel, the most valuable item in the universe, Gene reached out to draw her shoes off, his first choice surprising Alex somewhat. I would've thought he liked that kind of thing... Catching her gaze, Gene chuckled, lifting his shirt- but only to show her a crescent-shaped scar on his side, letting her reach out and caress it, his skin shuddering deliciously at her touch.
"That's the last time I was in bed wi' a woman wearin' 'igh 'eels. Dug 'em right in, the bitch. Not keen ter 'ave a repeat performance."
Alex giggled, lying back down again, her chest jumping as she saw his groin twitch at the sound of her mirth. The throbbing between her legs went up a notch.
"I'm waiting, Gene. Didn't you know you should never keep a lady waiting?"
Gene growled, deep in his throat; Alex wondered if she would be able to set the bed on fire with her now very obvious arousal.
His skilled fingers reached out, finding the zip on the skirt and carefully pulling it out from underneath her bottom, the friction hyping her up until she was nearly at fever pitch; his eyes widened at the sight of the stockings and suspenders, the tent in his trousers lengthening. Alex's body wriggled of its own accord, desperate for him to touch her, free her: he continued with his mission, slipping her blouse away, running his fingers tenderly over the underwear as he looked up at her, head cocked. Alex smiled, brushing his hands away despite her body's obvious wants.
"No, no. My turn."
She stood up, beckoning to the bed she had just been laid on; Gene slid up to take her place, silently wondering if it was possible to pass out with a mixture of nervousness and anticipation as Alex ran her fingers up his legs, easing his socks off and depositing them on the floor, taking one big toe into her hot wet mouth and sucking eagerly as he let his head fall back, his erection straining at his zip.
"Ah Christ... Bolls, if yer want me ter last, yer goin' ter 'ave ter stop that!"
Alex released his toe with a playful grin plastered over her face, her fingers sliding up to undo his belt and slip it out of his trousers, making sure to brush his groin on the way. He hissed through his teeth at the sensations, unable to remember how long it had been since he had been this turned on... maybe, he surmised, never...
Oh God!
His thoughts were rapidly dispatched elsewhere when she undid his fly, slipping his trousers down to find black boxers struggling to hold on to a very impressive manhood. Gene swore fluently as she ran her fingers over it, grinning devilishly at him, a seductress of pure pleasure, and released the buttons of his shirt one by one, exposing the pale, scarred skin of his chest.
"Gene..." she breathed, pressing her fingers to his nipples; her eyes roved his skin, the rapid rise and fall, each detail and imperfection and plain of skin logged as she gently touched a ragged scar running down from his throat to his breast bone, curious. That can wait for another day, Alex. She looked down at his arm, seeing the bandage over the cut, grinning at him as he followed her line of sight and huffed, unable to keep a grin off his face.
Running her fingers over the bandage, Alex sat up, simply drinking him in, the gold chain slick with sweat lying like a collar over his neck, his eyes fixed on hers as she finally locked gazes with him, reaching down to slip the suspender belt and stockings off herself, revealing her half-naked body to his hungry gaze.
"Oh, Bolls... oh God, you're... more gorgeous than I ever thought yer'd be," Gene whispered as she spread herself to him, soaked and desirous, her lips parted and her chest in delicious anguish as she invited him in, beaming at his form crouching in front of her.
"Please," she whispered, tilting her hips up to his mouth in invitation, her eyes beseeching as she touched his arm. Gene bit his lip.
"I..."
"What is it?"
"I've never done that before," Gene whispered in a rush, ashamed, dropping his head along with his reputation as an unparallelled lover. His wife had been very much of the 'lie back and think of England' persuasion, enthusiastic but not exotic, and he'd had precious few women since then, choosing not to employ hookers, only one woman topmost in his mind. Alex's lips opened in surprise, but almost as quickly curved into a smile.
"Don't worry. Just swipe your tongue over me and- and penetrate if you want. With your fingers and tongue. It should come naturally."
She reached out with a shaking hand, touching Gene's cheek tenderly, stroking over his jaw as his eyes, dark with want, fixed on her womanhood.
Slowly, oh so slowly drawing out the anticipation, Gene ducked his head and carefully, almost reverently, swiped his tongue over Alex's swollen clit.
His eyes widened in shock at her response, as she arced her hips up, gasping hard at the sensations.
Right... so just... do that... yes, she likes that. Naughty Bolls. What else?
Gene reached up with one determinedly steady hand, slipping a finger in through her wet folds, feeling rather than seeing her pleasure as he slipped it into her, curling, rubbing her sweet spot, holding her hips down gently as she bucked against him. Alex was almost weeping with desire, panting, more aroused than she'd ever been in her life- or even in this strange sort of afterlife.
"Not... going- to last..." she cried out as he drove her to the brink, teetering on the precipice, only just seeing Gene's devilish grin and his lips, shining with her ecstasy, as he eased her over with an almost careless flick of his tongue.
He watched with astonishment, and a little smug pride, as Alex Drake shattered under his fingers and mouth.
Slowly returning to earth, Alex reached out to Gene, needing him in her arms; seeing what she wanted, Gene clambered up next to her, snuggling her into his arms as her breathing steadied, smiling as she bent her head to suck gently at his nipple.
"Nice," he whispered, dropping a kiss on her cheek and then, as she resurfaced, one on her lips. Alex beamed, still slightly dazed, feeling unbelievably brazen lying on her bed half-naked with Gene Hunt.
"Well, that was fantastic- but I couldn't help seeing that someone missed out," she murmured, reaching down to brush her fingertips over his raging erection. He eased over onto his back, pulling her with him, damp fingers reaching behind her back to undo her bra, dropping it on the floor next to the bed as Alex flashed her sexiest smile, moaning softly at the feel of his mouth on her breast.
"Time fer my puddin'," Gene whispered, and Alex's breath caught in her throat as she realised what he was about to do.
"Let me serve you," she murmured, flipping them over so that she was on top of Gene, straddling his groin as he moaned, the feel of her dampness on his boxers too much.
The next thing he knew, his boxers had joined Alex's underwear on the floor as his DI wriggled sensuously down his body, eyes fixed on his as she opened her mouth wide and slipped it down onto his penis.
"Ohh... Christ!"
His obscene groan was enough to tell her that he was more than happy; Alex grinned around his manhood, sucking and licking as he hissed through his teeth, mingled curses and endearments tumbling from his panting mouth as every inch of him (and there were definitely more than average, Alex thought) seemed to scream with joy.
"Bolly... stop- stop!"
Alex looked up, confused: it had been going so well, what...?
And then he eased down, matching her body with his, and scrabbled around on the mattress, picking up a small crackling something.
Alex grinned as he ripped the condom out of its packet, reaching down shakily to slip it on, brushing her clit as he eased into position, letting her take the lead.
"Yer a modern girl," he whispered. She bent her head, smothering his lips in hers as she eased down, taking all of him in, both of them gasping into each other's mouths as though exchanging souls.
She slowly began to move up and down, Gene matching her thrust for thrust, the pleasure ricocheting throughout both their bodies as their coupling grew more energetic; the bed creaked like a tree in a hurricane, and for some reason they both laughed breathlessly, lips descending onto each others' and tongues tangling feverishly as Gene eased himself up, twisting them over until he was on top, an alpha male once again.
Alex opened eyes heavily lidded with desire, watching Gene pounding into her, face contorted in beautiful concentration, such an erotic and magnificent sight she felt herself dampening just watching him. The tingle around her legs started, enveloping her lower body in delicious heat; she moaned, thrusting harder at Gene, just registering him clutching her hips harder as the friction built, threatening to cast them both over the edge...
"GENE!"
Was that really me... ooh God... yes!
With a scream of pure delight, Alex hurtled into white light, feeling the spurt as Gene joined her, crying out as he tumbled onto the bed beside her, his body wracked with exquisite shakes in the aftermath of what felt like a taste of something even better than heaven.
Gradually, heart rates returned to normal, consciousnesses returned to earth.
Gene tilted his head to look at her, so relaxed and sated, completely different to his moody, shouty DI Drake. As though she was made of china, he reached out to brush his lips over hers once again, murmuring happily at the taste of her, marking her as his. Yer've already done that, yer idiot.
Alex smiled, opening her eyes in the state of pure bliss she was currently enjoying: Gene was hovering above her, like a sweaty, tousled angel, brilliant eyes fixed on hers, a shy smile curving his mouth. I have never seen anything this handsome. Oh, Gene.
"You really are a legendary lover, then?" she whispered, shuffling over to rest her head on his chest. Gene chuckled softly.
"You never doubted it, Bolly."
"Fair enough," she mumbled, closing her eyes and drawing the covers up over herself and Gene. He stroked her hair, coccooning her in himself as she snuggled up against him, kissing his neck.
"Sweet dreams, Bolly," he murmured, reaching out carefully to turn the light off, looking back to find that Alex was already asleep, snuffling gently into his chest.
With her sweet warmth and gentle weight, Gene was out like a light.
In the street outside, a cat with a white-patched head regarded the dark window curiously, mewing gently as it leapt up onto the bright red bonnet of the Quattro, curling up to sleep.
The next morning went marginally better than the previous one for Gene.
Stepping out of bed, his feet found Alex's discarded bra rather than an old moggy; Luigi only gave him a beam and a wink, rather than a bollocking, as he slipped out to get the overnight bag he'd stowed in the Quattro just in case, making sure to leave a note pinned to the tablecloth for if he'd woken Alex up getting out of bed. He felt like a man on top of the world, yanking the boot up and picking his holdall up, sliding it onto his shoulder as he closed the car again, belatedly spotting a familiar cat standing on the roof, green eyes boring into him.
"You again? Yer like a bloody stalker."
The cat whined piteously, padding over to rub its cheek against his trouser leg. Gene relented.
"Come on then. Bolly likes cats. Let's see if we can get yer some breakfast."
Ignoring the inner voice screaming poofter!, Gene picked the cat up and held it against his chest, cradling it with a newfound appreciation for animals as he headed back into Alex's flat, only pausing to lock the Quattro.
Had he looked up at the window, he would have seen Alex's beam as he held the cat, and the happy tears that spilled from her eyes.
As the cat glanced up at her, her movement attracting its attention, its somewhat intelligent gaze reminded her of Molly.
She would be so proud.
If she couldn't be with her daughter, at least Alex could live her life by Molly's main principle: happiness.
A/N: Gosh, that turned out a bit longer than it was originally intended to! Hehe, ah well. Hope you enjoyed it, and please remember to review- a choice of chocolate muffins, pizza slices and fruit pastilles for all reviewers. Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed, and review! Jazzola
