False Alarm
I don't own anybody, they are the property of the writers, Kudos, the BBC etc.
Thanks again for all the lovely reviews and alerts etc, and a massive thank you to the wonderful 3speckledeggs for giving me more than inspiration for the previous chapter ; )
The bath.
'Was Drake okay?'
Shaz jumped. Coming down the stairs from Alex's flat, her mind running over what she'd found there, she hadn't expected to find Chris waiting at the bottom.
'Chris, what are you doing there?'
'Waiting for you.' Shaz looked down on Chris. She'd been the one to give him the elbow, but she had to admit he looked cute standing there in his tight white jeans, his puppy-dog eyes staring back up at her. Steady now Shaz - no back-tracking.
'Yeah. That's lovely Chris,' Shaz reached the bottom step, 'but I'm a big girl, remember.' She looked up at him, determined to show how capable she was. 'I Can look after myself.'
'Yes, I know. Sorry.' Chris stuffed his hands in his pockets - a safety measure. He felt drunk and stupid. Last thing he needed in this state was let himself get carried away and make an unwelcome grab at her. Hands in the pockets was definitely best. 'So how was she then?'
Shaz thought about what she'd seen. Alex, fresh out of the bath in her long elegant bathrobe, make-up smudged, putting a brave face on things… but in the bathroom…'
'Tell you over a drink. I think I've got some catching up to do judging by the looks of you.' Chris giggled. She's right, he thought. He and Ray had been putting the drink back faster than a couple of dogs on a hot day so he was surprised Shaz intended spending time with them. The idea she wanted to spend time with him gave him a warm glow. He started taking his hands out of his pockets but Shaz was quick to re-buff him. 'Don't go getting the wrong idea, it's just a drink.'
'I wasn't.' He stumbled, caught in the glare of Shaz's beautiful brown eyes, desperately trying not to disappoint her. Desperately trying to say and do the right thing. 'I won't.'
Shaz marched off in front of him. He tried not to let his gaze linger on her pert behind, her skirt stretched tight across her buttocks - and failed.
Ray watched them approach. He'd gained a new respect for Shaz since the incident with the rapist, but he still couldn't work out why she and Chris had split up. Even a grade A lummox like him could see they were made for each other.
'Shaz has just been up to Drake's flat.' Chris explained, unnecessarily, before signalling he was going to get drinks. Shaz sat down. She had a better feeling about Ray these days, but if he'd been drinking she couldn't be sure of getting homo sapiens or homo barely erectus.
'Well how was she? Did you see the Guv?'
'No. '
Ray ground his cigarette into the ashtray. This was bad news. They'd left the Guv with Drake while they searched the street for likely suspects. They hadn't found any - hence the drinking, but if the Guv wasn't there it was likely he was out looking, and if he was still looking, it meant they should be looking too, after they finished this drink.
She was kissing him. Her mouth opening and moving against his, her tender lips trapping and releasing his - and it felt wonderful. And he knew she'd forgiven him - but that was the only thing he knew. Fact was he'd told her he loved her, twice even, and all she'd done was kiss him.
He let her deepen the kiss, responding to her, all the while hiding a little disappointment. He knew he shouldn't need her to say the words, but he did. He hadn't consciously planned to say he loved her. He couldn't be more embarrassed. He didn't even have the excuse of being a prepubescent schoolboy desperate to get his leg over. But had he, Gene Hunt the man, meant it? Sure the desire to shag her brains out twice nightly and again every morning for luck had consumed his days, and nights, for as long as he'd known her. Sure his stomach contracted every time he thought he could loose her, but was that love? His runaway tongue certainly thought so but if it weren't for her kiss now he'd have been thinking his declarations were as welcome as a fart in a lift.
Arrested by her beautiful vulnerable eyes he'd reassured her of her desirability - 'I love me in the bathroom.' That time it had been him to hide himself in a kiss. Then just now he'd allowed himself to be overcome with just how much being able to kneel before her beautiful body meant to him and how happy he was to hold her and he'd breathed it into the centre of her sex…'love this, love you.'
Her hand strayed into the water, spinning circles along his inner thigh, thoughts of romantic love aside, it was time to send the pustular schoolboy to bed - this woman wanted a man.
'Up.' He ordered. Alex felt rather than heard the vibrations of his voice rumbling up through his chest like a mini volcano. Christ he had such a sexy voice. A sexy voice she remembered telling her he loved her. Practically whispering it as he kissed, of all things, her pubic hair. She sighed. Much as she wanted to believe him she knew she should probably put his declaration down to lust but God how she wanted to say it back to him - if she weren't so scared.
Wasn't it obvious he was just talking lust, animal attraction, sex appeal? He lusted after her, she lusted after him… Christ just how she lusted after him…
That's how it had always been between them but was it love? The look in his eyes had said it was, but could she trust the look in his eyes? Could she answer him truthfully when the truth would bring down a shutter between one life and another. Lust? Now lust she could deal with... couldn't she?
'Up.' He growled again.
The smouldering light in her eyes told him how much she fancied a piece of the Gene Genie. And as there was one piece of his anatomy with no qualms about her not reciprocating his declaration of love. He needed to get her out of this bath soon or they'd be in danger of displacing so much water Luigi would think someone had set his restaurant on fire.
'Ouch.' She yelped as her bum collided with the tap - actually that hurt, quite a lot. 'My bum, the tap.' She said, by way of explanation.
'Turn around - let me see.' Alex shuffled in the bath, kneeling over so he could see. He sucked in a breath as she turned her arse to face him. Saints alive, Alex Drake presenting her peachy behind to him for his scrutiny. For a moment he held his hands in the air, doing a great impression of a black and white minstrel waving. He breathed down the desire to take her from behind then and there and slowly collected himself. The opportunity to stroke her delicious rump shouldn't ever be rushed. He examined her slowly. She'd scraped herself just above her coccyx, crumpled the skin into a little tissue-like lump. He bent and pressed his lips to the painful site. 'There, the Gene Genie's kissed it better for you.'
She turned her head to give thanks, but he didn't see, lost in admiration. He kissed her again. She lowered her top half into the bath - her nipples breaking the surface of the warm water. She closed her eyes, letting the water swallow her breasts, exposing herself to him. She heard his gasp of appreciation. She trembled as his kisses worked lower. She jerked forward as she realised his flicking tongue has touched her somewhere where no-one had ever kissed her before. He chuckled and pulled her back towards him.
'What's the matter Bols? Thought you of all people would enjoy someone kissing your arse.'
'It was just unexpected, that's all.'
'Unexpected… because?'
'Just thought you were the more traditional type that's all.' Hell, she thought he was traditional. Wasn't that girly mumbo-jumbo for old ?
'In my book waggling your arse in front of someone's face is a pretty traditional way of asking for it.' He teased his long fingers down between her cheeks. She groaned. 'One day Alex, I'll do something unexpected to you over my desk.' She trembled at the hint of menace in his voice. God, what was he doing to her? 'Posh girl, bit of rough like me, thought you'd love this.' There it was again, classic Gene speak. What had Shaz called it - Foreplay?
'That's a classic class stereotype Gene.' She said between pants as his fingers moved to the apex between her legs. 'You've got a lot more work to do to find out what I love.' She was trying to maintain the illusion of being in control, but it was a feeble facade. He didn't have to do much work after all - seconds later she was moaning involuntarily as he curled one, then two fingers, into her.
'Oh, I think I'm getting a good idea Alex.' She held back as long as she could before leaning back onto the hand pleasuring her, encouraging his touch on her sensitive nub, begging him to work through her want. And how she wanted. She pushed her rear closer and closer to him, wanton and needy. He leant forward whispering into her ear 'He knows what she wants of him - his cock in her, his mouth on her breast, his tongue and fingers bringing her to ecstasy.'
She comes hard in his hand. Her muscle walls contracting over his fingers as her orgasm courses through her. She feels her ecstasy expand, rushing through her like a lightening strike, filtering through her extremities - a stream of warmth flowing into the water, surrounding them both. She wonders if he felt it too?
He pulls her up out of the bath. Desperate to be in her, hustling her across the room, wrapping his arms round her, pushing her roughly against the door, hands gripping her arse, aligning her to him before she's got time to breathe. He lifts her legs round his waist. Her arms flop around his neck. Then he's in her, no niceties, no warning, just him and his cock ramming her into the door.
The speed of his assault sends an adrenalin rush to her brain. She's trembling like a junkie as she holds him tight to her. He stoops to gorge himself on her breasts, biting down harder than he should, shaking from one to the other, laving her nipples as she claws his back. She might not have told him she loves him but he knows she loves this. The feel of his mouth on her breast, his hard throbbing cock buried in her sending her higher and higher. The feel of a man.
She holds on to him, gripping the back of his neck pushing him to her like he's her saviour, and he is. The door bangs noisily behind her, slamming and opening with each thrust. A building crescendo. Each time he powers into her the slams get louder. It's orchestral. Her ears ring. Where are the cymbals? He's bringing her closer but she can't believe she'll ever come. Her muscles have lost all tension under his onslaught. All she knows of herself is where he touches her, the rest of her - her limp rag doll limbs splayed against the door, completely immaterial in their mutual quest for pleasure.
He's the cowboy, the sheriff, riding her across the plains into oblivion. She's crying now, begging. His ego swells, his muscles tense, close to popping. He's flailing in her, drunk on her essence; the smell of sex on her skin; the traces of berries and cream leftover from their escapades earlier. His name spills from her lips in a stream. He leans in to catch it, lapping it up. Sweat runs between their bodies. They slap together. He keeps her suspended against the door as he powers into her - grunting as he looses himself in her sweet cunt.
Her gasps are desperate sobs for release not because the door is hard against her back. Her groans come unbidden - not because he's being rough and her pubic bone is aching from where he's slamming into her, though it does. She screams his name not because his hands are bruising her thighs and his breath is hot on her neck but because being fucked by Gene Hunt feels fucking wonderful.
When blessed release comes and she finally spills shuddering and crying over him she doesn't realise it's with a scream. She knows only that her throat is sore as he explodes into her, his shivers following her shudders with more shivers.
Afterwards they keep their embrace. Leaning into each other for support. He lowers her legs. He stares her straight in the eye. She's melting before him. He sees she's crying, but she's smiling too.
'Bloody hell Bols, anyone would think you'd never had the life shagged out of you.' His breathing is ragged. He gasps, a marathon runner. Her hands smooth his hair. She's mesmerised by the intensity of the eyes boring into hers. He pushes a strand of hair behind her ear, lingering to stroke her neck.
'I haven't. Not until now.' She strokes his cheek as she tells him. 'God, I love you.'
He raises his eyebrows, as she says it again. 'I love you too. Gene, I love you too.' He moves in to kiss her. Definitely lust, he tells himself, not letting her look him in the eye and see how pleased he is she's said it.
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