Thanks to all those who've made positive comments about this - it's great to get encouraging feedback. Hope you like the latest update.

Gene woke to the smell of coffee and the sound of tuneless whistling from the kitchen. He pulled on shorts and shirt and followed his nose, hoping she'd made a mug for him. Alex bustled around the small kitchen, robe belted at her waist, opening and closing cupboards and drawers, distracted by the unfamiliarity of sharing her breakfast with a man.

"There's coffee in the cafetiere," she told him, handing him a mug. "Milk in the fridge. You want toast? Or – erm – I think I have some Alpen somewhere."

"Alpen? Christ almighty, Alex, I'm not a bloody donkey." She raised an eyebrow. "Sorry. Toast's fine. You want some help?"

"I think I'll be able to make toast unaided. Why don't you, oh I don't know, freshen up or something." She was finding it increasingly hard to concentrate while Gene stood over her, looking moody and rumpled and warm. Oh, and not fully dressed.

After helping himself to the coffee, Gene beat a retreat, planning on a quick shower and then – what, exactly? This was all such unfamiliar territory for him. He'd been married for the best part of a quarter of a century and, loathe though he was to admit it, he hadn't seen a whole lot of action since the missus had left. He was beginning to wish he'd made a bit of an effort with the ladies before meeting Bolly. Got a bit of practice in. At least then he might have had a bit of clue about what women wanted these days. About how to behave once he met one that – well – mattered.

Staring at himself in the bathroom mirror, he shook his head in disbelief that he'd managed to get this far. He had the beginnings of stubble around his chin, lines around his eyes, shadows beneath them. He looked shabby and worn out and every single one of his 45 years. He looked away, turning on the shower, so didn't see how the years fell away as he thought back to the previous night, a small smile creeping across his lips and a bright spark lighting up his eyes.

In the kitchen, Alex willed herself to settle down and stop acting like a virgin on her wedding night. Unlike Gene, she'd had her fair share of morning afters, but for some reason this one was proving more awkward than most. Perhaps it was because his intentions were so unclear. After all, although he'd never made any secret that he found her physically attractive, he'd also been fairly open in his criticism of her as a – what was it again – bitter, twisted, messed-up, clenched-arsed, toffee-nosed bitch. Yes, that was it.

She heard Gene pad into the bedroom and begin dressing. A couple of slices of bread went into the toaster for him and she poured a glass of orange juice. When he joined her in the kitchen, smelling faintly of soap and hair still damp from the shower, her awkwardness returned. She handed him the glass without meeting his eye, busying herself with buttering toast and opening the marmalade.

The silence lengthened between them as they moved around each other in the small kitchen, avoiding each other's gaze. He leaned against the worktop, eating his toast, watching as she tidied bits of crockery and cutlery away. He hated this tension between them but didn't know how to ease it. Was she expecting him to clear off straight away? Was that why she was acting as twitchy as a bucket of frogs? He let out a deep breath. "So," he began, striving for casual. "Got any plans for today?"

She thought quickly. Manicure, massage, facial and a haircut. "Nope. Nothing special. You?"

Buy Mam's birthday present. City away at White Hart Lane. "No, not really. Just pottering around."

"Oh. Right."

"Yeah."

"So, erm. You don't have to rush off, then?"

"I suppose not, no."

"Well, I was thinking," she lied, "about going to the market at Columbia Road. Want to, er, get something for the flat. Yes. If you felt like it, you could come? Help me carry stuff home." He didn't reply straight away and Alex felt suddenly insecure, convinced that he was about to make his excuses and run. "Or not," she babbled on, "if you don't want to. S'fine."

Shopping? No bloody way. "Okay," he said, drumming his fingers on the worktop. "Columbia Road – that's flowers, isn't it?"

"And plants."

"Could do with getting some clean clothes on first though. I could head home now, meet you there. Or you could come back with me and we could drive over together."

She realised she didn't want to let him out of her sight. Opted for the latter and after showering and dressing she found herself at Gene's house once again. He left her downstairs while he went up to change. She passed the time looking around the sitting room, searching for clues about Gene's character and history but coming up blank; he seemed to have eliminated any personal touches from this space. There was an overflowing ashtray on the coffee table and a pair of decanters and glasses on the sideboard, but otherwise it could have been a show home. Even the bookcase was empty, barring a couple of Robert Ludlum paperbacks and some files he'd obviously brought home from the office. She was about to look around further when she heard Gene coming back down stairs, a small bag in his hand and his overcoat over his arm.

"Finished nosing around, then?"

"Not much to nose at, really, Gene. The place is bare. Where is all your stuff?"

"Lock-up in Manchester, mostly. Couldn't be bothered to bring most of it when I moved down. Now, shall we go or is there something else you'd like to criticise?"

Rolling her eyes, she led him back to the car then held her breath as he drove in his usual fashion to the market.

"What is it exactly you're looking for?" he asked as they made their way through the rows of stalls.

"Just a couple of pot plants, I think. A fern for the bathroom. Maybe something flowery for the kitchen. Dunno. Hopefully I'll know it when I see it."

"Don't know what I'm doing here," grumbled Gene good-naturedly.

"Just relaxed and enjoy it," Alex laughed. A large fern caught her eye and she pointed it out to Gene, catching his arm. "Look at that one. Do you think it's too big? I like it though. What do you think?"

"I think," he replied, "that you're asking the wrong person. I have no idea what size of plant you should have in your bathroom."

"Oooh, look at the other one there, next to it. Better? I think so. But we should probably keep looking, in case there's something else that's just right."

She babbled on happily, spotting things she liked, asking his opinion. He played along, acting miserable but actually enjoying the sight of her so relaxed and animated. A couple of plants and some herbs for the kitchen later, Alex was ready to quit. They were heading back in the direction of the car when Gene spotted a stall selling saplings. He pulled her towards it, muttering about needing something for his garden. "I've neglected it, I suppose. Now would probably be a good time to sort it out."

"I didn't even know you had a garden, Gene."

He glanced across at her. "You've never bothered to ask.". It was said lightly enough but the look was pointed.

In the event, none of the saplings really suited Gene, although there was a useful leaflet about turf laying. He picked up the carrier bags containing her purchases, transferring them all to one hand, then took her arm with the other. It felt good, re-establishing this physical connection between them. Emphasising the shift in their relationship. The jealous looks he was getting from the other men at having her on his arm were a bonus.

They continued their walk back to the car until Alex pulled Gene to a pause. "It's pretty much lunchtime. We could get something to eat here. It says they do food."

Gene looked at the dingy pub, frowning. It looked awful and he wondered whether he knew any classier places nearby that he could recommend. Misjudging his silence, Alex found herself wondering yet again whether Gene was actually looking for excuses to head off. These sudden stabs of insecurity were really starting to irritate her; she was usually so confident and hated this new, wimpy Alex. Telling herself to get a grip, and about to offer Gene a graceful exit, she was both pleased a relieved when he said, "Nah, this place is a dive. There's a nicer one just along the way. Does a good pie and a pint. If you don't mind a bit of a walk."

They strolled north for half a mile, Alex gently teasing Gene about Manchester, Gene responding in kind about the softness of southerners. Arriving at the pub, Gene held the door open for Alex and led her to a table in the corner. He hoped she liked his choice of location. Sitting next to her at the table, a bottle of red between them, it felt to Gene like a date. He tried to force the thought from his mind. Things seemed to go much better between them when there was less pressure of expectation.

Over lunch, Alex conceded to herself that she hadn't always made enough of an effort to get to know the real Gene Hunt. She'd only seen him as the avenging copper, not as human flesh and blood. It wasn't too late to make amends. Finishing her meal, she decided to ask questions, trying to get a handle on this man who'd become her lover. She began by asking for his earliest memory.

Gene paused briefly, pushing aside the truthful answer involving a rumbling stomach and a beating in favour of a different early recollection, a happy one, of his mother and the smell of home made bread.

"Favourite colour?"

"Black. Or red. Black and red. Together, preferably. In lace."

A bubble of laughter escaped Alex's lips. "Favourite food?"

"Roast beef. Make a mean Yorkshire pudding."

"You cook?"

"I cook Yorkshire pudding. Counts."

"Best holiday?"

"Not had many. Went to Blackpool on honeymoon with the missus but we didn't see much beyond the room and the bar. Had a couple of weeks away Spain. One time, Marbella I think it was, the missus got Spanish belly and I got so burned I couldn't lie down without painkillers. Beginning of the end, really."

"Do you miss her?"

"The missus?" He didn't, he realised. He missed what she represented – status, security, the sense of having made a success at something. He didn't like admitting he'd failed at keeping his marriage together. But as for the wife herself? He'd stopped missing her even before they'd separated. "Nope. You?"

"Me what?"

"Miss your husband?"

"Ex husband. And no. Except in relation to my daughter. She misses him far more than I do, and I hate to see her being disappointed all the time."

"Your daughter…"

"I miss her. I want to get back to her. But I don't know how."

"Is she far away?"

With a slightly sad smile, Alex replied, "You could say that."

Gene gave a small nod. She'd be leaving eventually, once she could get back to her daughter again. Best make the most of having her here, then. He drained his glass and leaned closer to her. Ran a finger along her jaw, from earlobe to chin, turning her face towards his, planting a gentle kiss on her lips. "Let's get out of here. Get these plants of yours to their new home."

On the drive back to Alex's flat, Gene reflected on their conversation. It should have felt uncomfortable, revealing himself to her. He'd never been one for talking about emotions and feelings; he was barely able to articulate them to himself, let alone discuss them with others. But with Alex it had been easy, natural even. For the first time, he allowed himself to feel positive about the future.

Arriving back at Alex's flat, Gene set her bags on the coffee table and eased off his boots while she poured a glass of white for herself and a scotch for him. Taking the glass gratefully, he relaxed back on the sofa, waiting for her to join him.

"Nice morning," she told him, flopping alongside him. "Thanks for coming."

"Welcome. Next time you can come with me to the footie." The words were out of his mouth before he realised their implications.

"Next time?" she queried, one perfect eyebrow raised. "Well. As long as it's not Chelsea." Setting her glass on the table, she took his from his fingers and took a swig. Grimaced slightly. "Not sure what you see in this, Gene. Think I'll stick to the wine."

"All the more for me, then." He took the glass back from her and put it next to hers on the table. Pulling her closer, he gently cupped her chin and pressed a soft kiss on her lips. He was tentative, as if still unsure of his reception, but Alex's response, clear and enthusiastic, drove the doubt from his mind.

He pulled her closer, turning her towards him, pulling her leg across his lap so she sat facing him, straddling him, holding him. She looked down into his eyes and saw them darken with passion, knowing he could see her own arousal mirrored on her face. "Gene," she murmured, holding his face in her hands. She traced a finger across his lips, loving their softness and the thought of what they could do to her. He caught the tip of her finger between his teeth, licking the pad, then took it in his mouth and sucked hard, smiling at her sharp intake of breath.

"Want you, Alex," Gene growled, pulling her top over her head and unclipping her bra, slipping it from her shoulders and dropping it to the floor. He palmed her breasts, one in each hand, taking their weight, swiping his thumbs across her taut nipples.

"Love that, Gene," Alex sighed, "do it again." He leaned in, slipping one hand round her waist to keep her close, lifting a breast to his mouth with the other. He licked a path around the outer circle of her nipple, nibbling at the flesh of her breast, leaving her begging for more.

"You want this?" he asked, taking the nipple into his mouth and sucking, rolling the tip against his teeth with his tongue, making her cry out with desire.

"Yes, Gene, want it, want more," Alex moaned, tangling her hands in his hair, holding his head against her tits, squirming in his lap. Heat was building between her legs, the seam of her jeans rubbing against her clit as she ground herself against him.

She reached down to unbutton her waistband, pushing down the zip and wriggling as she tried to ease the jeans down. "Jesus, Alex," Gene groaned, shifting his hands to her arse and lifting her slightly so she could push the trousers from her body, one leg at a time. She sat back across him, wearing nothing but a tiny pair of black silk knickers, trimmed with red lace. Staring at her, sat on his lap, arousal flushing her skin, her breathing heavy and her nipples erect, Gene swallowed and growled into her shoulder, "So fucking sexy."

Desperate to feel him against her, Alex's fingers busily freed his shirt buttons, playing across his chest and flicking at his nipples as she went. He shrugged out of the shirt, pulling her next to him, feeling her tits press against him, her soft curves in sharp contrast to the hardness of his body. She could feel him growing beneath her and moaned as his fingers slipped beneath her knickers, curling around her body, his thumb circling her clit while his fingers thrust inside. "S'good, Gene, please, more," Alex breathed, moving her hips slowly against his hands, feeling the heat building between her legs.

Leaning down to him, she claimed his mouth with hers, slipping her tongue inside, tasting whiskey and cigarettes and pure Gene Hunt. She scraped her fingers down his back, drawing a groan from him as he continued to work her, sending her ever closer to her peak.

"Mmm, you make me feel so good," she panted, pulling away slightly and fumbling at his belt. Together they unbuttoned his trousers, and as he lifted himself slightly from the seat she pulled down his trousers and shorts. "God, Gene," she breathed as she looked down at his naked body, his cock hard and throbbing, the tip glistening. She took his length and stroked slowly, squeezing, teasing, running a finger around the rim and across the head, feeling it grow even bigger in her hand.

Gene dropped his head to the back of the sofa, groaning his approval. "Please, Alex, don't stop."

"Not stopping, Gene. Love how you feel."

Alex left a trail of hot, wet kisses along Gene's shoulder, nipping at his neck, sucking on his earlobe. The feel of him in her hand was driving her crazy, so strong and hard, and she knew she had to taste him. Before he knew what she was doing she slid to her knees in front of him and took his length in her mouth. "Alex, no," he muttered weakly, but he made no move to pull her away.

Kneeling closer, Alex took the base of his cock in one hand, gripping firmly, then cupped his balls with the other, her mouth sucking at his head. "Fuck it, yes, Alex, yes," he grunted as she ran her tongue around the rim, pumping with her hand, then retaking his length deep in her throat. Her clit throbbed between her legs as she tasted him, heard his groans of pleasure, glorying in the power she had over him. "More, please, take more," he mumbled, tipping his hips towards her, and she swallowed him further, loving how he filled her mouth.

Fuck, he was close, too close. Tugging her back up his body, he was desperate to be inside her. He pulled at the bows on her hips and tossed her knickers to the side, giving him complete access to her. Pulling her back across him, her thighs straddling his hips, his cock pushed against her slick folds, she trembled in his arms.

"Want you, Gene, please, fuck me, now," Alex panted, planting fevered kisses on his face and his lips, hanging on to his shoulders, writhing on his lap in a frenzy of need. He pulled her onto him, pushing into her, heard her cry "Ooh, Gene, yes," as his breath hitched at the feel of her tight around him.

She pulled herself closer, her body pressed against his, his cock buried deep inside her. Sliding his hands from her waist up her spine, curling them through her hair, he kissed her with all the passion he'd suppressed for so long. She rocked against him, small movements that rubbed her clit against his body, making her gasp into his kisses. "God, Gene," she whispered, "help me, please." She was so close, so tense, shaking to her fingertips, and as he bucked hard into her he sent her flying over the edge, shattering around him as she came. Feeling her tighten, hearing her cries, her taste on his lips, he thrust one last time before following her, pulling her onto him, crying, "Fuck, yes, now," coming hard inside her. He collapsed back to the sofa with her still in his arms, gasping for breath, waiting for his heart to return to normal, wondering what normal now was.

Catching her breath, Alex planted a final kiss on his shoulder before twisting off his lap and settling herself at his side. "Jesus, Alex.," he murmured into her hair. "What are you trying to do? Kill me?"

"Might be simpler," she replied with a smile. He reached to the table and retrieved their glasses, taking a sip of his whiskey while handing her the glass of white wine. She downed hers, grimacing. "Bit warm."

"Not the only thing," muttered Gene, drawing a laugh from Alex.

"What time is it?"

"Still early, I think. 'Bout four?"

"Right." Oh, God, here they were again. Should she ask him to stay? She wanted to, but knew he'd need a break. Wouldn't want to feel under pressure from her. Offer him a way out. "You've probably got plans for the evening, I suppose. You shouldn't feel like you need to change them for me."

Plans? The only plan he could formulate right now, with her naked and curled into his side, involved a take away menu and a Do Not Disturb sign on the door. But she seemed to be hinting that he should clear off. Perhaps she had plans of her own? Best not to think about that. "Got a few things I need to deal with back at my place," he lied. "Alright if I have a quick shower before I go?"

"Course." Pushing up from the sofa, Alex gathered her clothes and headed into the bedroom to fetch her robe. By the time she returned to the living room, she could hear the sound of his shower running. She smiled ruefully, wondering how she'd got herself in the position where she was longing for a few more minutes with Gene before he left.

He dressed in the bathroom before returning to Alex to say goodbye. He took hold of her waist and pulled her to him, circling his thumbs in the small of her back. Perhaps she'd change her mind and ask him to stay? He leaned over and brushed a soft kiss across her cheek. She didn't say anything.

"Bye, then, Bolly," he said quietly. "I'll, er, call you." God, he was rubbish at this. Everything that came out of his mouth was a bloody cliché.

"Do. Please," she replied, telling herself to let go of his shoulders and let him leave her flat.

Reluctantly, he pulled away and let himself out. On the drive home, Gene found he could no longer block out the thoughts that had been nagging at him since he'd slipped out of Alex on the sofa. He grimaced at the irony. He spent his professional life looking for clues, gathering evidence, making deductions based on the facts. But when it came to Alex, he'd been denying the evidence so long it had become second nature. Seemed he couldn't deny it any longer.

The feel of her mouth on him had been amazing. He'd had his fair share of blow jobs over the years but no one had ever pulled such sensations from his body. It had sent him reeling. He'd tried to keep control but each time they fucked – he absolutely wouldn't call it making love – he lost himself a little bit more.

Pulling up outside his house, he got out of the car and walked round to the boot, flipping it open. He picked up the overnight bag he'd packed that morning in a burst of optimism. Wouldn't be needing it after all.

AN: I know Columbia Road is only on Sundays but I couldn't resist taking them there. Hope the authenticity police don't mind.