I don't own Ashes to Ashes
Bit angsty this one, but I hope its ok!
---
Gene felt the temperature of the room fall the moment Alex left, the cold clutches of grief and worry tearing at his innards as she left him alone, his hand holding tight onto his mothers. He'd half wanted Alex to stay with him, to curl up in his lap and fall asleep so he didn't need to be alone with his fears, but he knew she was as tired as he was, knew she needed her rest, and he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he needed to say goodbye alone.
So he sat, staring at his mother's face, memorising every small detail, his heart twisting at a thousand memories; he remembered the laugh in her eyes when he and Stuart had traipsed in, wearing their swimming trunks but covered in mud from the small stream in the local park. He thought about the day they had discovered Stuart's death, remembering the tears that trickled down her face and splashed to the floor as he held her hand. He remembered the beaming pride on her face when he had joined the force, remembered her standing on tiptoe to put her warm arms around his neck and press soft lips to his cheek. Childhood memories he thought had long been lost to the darkness suddenly emerged, breaking out from the thick fog of despair he always associated with his younger years, reminding him each time of those days when everything was right, normal, even happy... He leant forwards, bringing her fingers to his lips and kissing them softly, staring at her sleeping face, feeling his heart splintering in his chest.
----
The door to the living room, which had been shut that afternoon, was now slightly ajar, and on entering, Alex saw a rumpled duvet, which was draped over the long sofa in the middle of the room. She walked over gratefully, sinking into the warm blanket and inhaling Gene's scent, her whole body flooding with relief. She doubted she could sleep, but she knew Gene really wanted to have a few hours alone with his mother, to say goodbye in whatever manner he needed to. She longed to be able to help him, to comfort him and tell him it would all be ok, but she knew better; she'd lost her parents, and she knew that nothing she said could possibly lighten the heavy grief that weighed on his back.
Her eyes were closed as she lay there, inhaling the scent of Gene's aftershave, his cigarette-smelling clothes and a small amount of sweat, as though he had wiped his clammy palms on the duvet as he lay there. She longed for his arms around her as she tried to sleep, couldn't remember the last time she had closed her eyes without him holding her against his chest... She felt cold and alone, even as she wrapped herself up in his scent, nose buried in the duvet, eyes scrunched up as she imagined his protective arms surrounding her, his soft voice in her ear...
Her heart physically ached as her mind drifted to thoughts of his pain, to the desperate manner with which he had pulled her from the station, and the way he had so flagrantly demanded her to be safe, uncharacteristically safety conscious as his grief consumed him; she hadn't realized before what he had been doing, couldn't have guessed that his worry had led him to a pinnacle of loneliness, that he needed her to stay just so that he felt that little bit more connected, more human...
Something cold and wet touched her forehead and she leapt up, eyes flying open. A small squeak of fear left her throat as her eyes fell on the large brown and black canine now sat before her, looking up at her with large, sorrowful eyes, large ears pricked back as though listening for something.
"Jesus," Alex gasped, leaping back against the sofa and tucking her legs firmly beneath her. "Where the hell did you come from?" Her eyes darted around the room, the dogs' gentle whine unnerving her, until her eyes fell on the large basket in the corner, draped in shadow. She swore softly, jumping as the dogs' nose gently nudged at her knee, before its chin came to rest heavily in her lap. Hands trembling, Alex reluctantly petted the soft fur, before pulling her hand away quickly. Large brown eyes looked up at her expectantly, and she dropped her hand again, running her fingers hesitantly over the long snout. The eyes closed briefly, before the dog yanked its head away, darting across the room and nudging at a tennis ball, before catching it in its mouth and running back to drop it in Alex's lap.
Her momentary fear of the animal was replaced by pity as she felt herself cave, noting the lonely look on the animals face and tossing the ball across the room lightly. A moment later, the dog returned, leaping up on the sofa and draping itself across Alex's legs, tail wagging slowly, as though that small display of playfulness had formed a lifelong bond. Still tentative, wary of the dogs' size and considerable weight, she ran her hands down the silky back, scratching lightly behind the ears as a soft growl of delight left the dogs' throat. Her fingers sought the collar which hung at the dogs' large neck, twisting it until the round tag was visible. In the half light it took several moments to read the single engraving of 'Fitz'. Alex smiled, the Latin lessons Evan had bestowed on her from a young age rising to the surface as she stroked the dogs head again.
"I suppose you're a boy then," Alex mused, "if your name means 'son'." Fitz butted his head against her hand as it stilled, settling more firmly across her, his whole body moving as his tail thumped in contentment. Shifting slightly to rest her head back on the sofa cushion, Alex closed her eyes, nervous fingers combing through Fitz's fur as she listened to the quiet of the house.
---
Gene had never in his life had to wait for the death of someone he cared about; Stu was dead when they found him, and the whole situation had been so surreal that it took him two weeks to really understand any of it. Sam's loss, too, was violent and sudden, and it had uprooted his life, ending his marriage and tearing him from the few remaining friends he had.
He, Chris and Ray had left, never really considering the next time they would come back, yet here he was, waiting by his mothers bedside for some black spectre to appear; it didn't.
The night drew on, cold, lonely and quiet, and all he wanted was to break it, to whisper in the dark and tell his mother exactly what she meant to him, what she had always meant, even if he had never bothered to tell her... He wanted to tell her, but he didn't know how. Words seemed to fail, even when he knew she was asleep, so deep in slumber that she probably wouldn't notice if a battalion of soldiers stormed through the front door.
The words he craved to voice caught in his throat, and the well of hopelessness deepened. He brought the chair closer, holding Maddie's hand that little bit tighter, trying to show through the touch of his hand what seemed to escape him verbally, knowing it would never be enough...
He wished there was a way to explain all that she was to him, to thank her for everything she'd ever done, but even though he knew the words, the three words that just might surmise his feelings enough for her to understand, he couldn't bring himself to say them. They echoed through his mind, resonating down the halls of the house through forty years of inner torment, burning his ears as he grasped her hand tighter.
Would saying he loved her really help, in the greater scheme of things? Whether or not he said it aloud, he couldn't possibly change the way he felt, or quell the innate respect, thanks and admiration that had coursed through him since day one... but why, when he could so easily think it, could he not voice such sentiment? He squeezed Maddie's hand slightly harder in his, eyes fixed on her frail face, deep in thought, praying that she knew...
"You do know, don't you?" he murmured quietly, bringing her hand to his chest and looking at her sleeping face. "'cause I don't know how to say it... but I mean it..." His lips brushed her hand before he lowered it back to the bed, placing it on the duvet, still held tenderly in his own. Her fingers squeezed at his gently, a soft smile drawing across her lips, and Gene looked up as she released her final breath, a soft whisper in the dark of the room.
"Yes..."
---
Alex was dozing, her hand resting on Fitz's back, lightly brushing across the warm fur, feeling the large dogs breath on her other arm as it rested at her side on the sofa. She didn't know how long she sat there, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat against her leg, his snuffling breath bringing a small smile to her face as she felt him twitch in his sleep. She was barely taking note of anything at all, drifting between sleep and consciousness, when suddenly Fitz had leapt from her lap, paws pushing off her stomach as he scrabbled towards the door, pawing at the wood and whining pitifully. Alex took a few moments to recover, and then joined him at the door, feeling Fitz bristling at her feet, his back quivering against her leg as she turned the handle and let him out.
She knew where he was running before he'd left her side.
---
Gene didn't know how long he sat there, but sit he did, staring at his mother's face and hoping in vain that somehow he was wrong, that she was still breathing and her heart was still beating, and that he was just frozen in a moment of time, one he'd be jerked out of at any moment and see her eyes open once again. When he felt the solid warmth against his leg and heard the soft, mournful whine of his mother's dog, he knew his wishing was pointless. He was frozen to the spot, staring at Maddie's face, feeling his eyes sting at the realization that the smile which remained on her lips was the last of its kind.
Fitz rested his head in Gene's lap, his whines soft, almost musical, calming the torrent of emotion that ripped through Gene's head and heart; anger, grief, despair and uselessness, all tearing at his chest and searching for any type of outlet it could get, but finding none.
Even as Alex approached, wrapping her arms around him and holding his head to her chest as her tears splashed into his hair, Gene couldn't find it in himself to do anything, rooted to the spot by the force of his emotion. Her heart pounded away beneath his ear as he continued to stare, bewildered and lost, at the familiar face which now lay silent at the heart of his desolation.
His body was incapable of movement, his mouth slack with shock, eyes stinging with foreign and unshed tears as the weight of his loss pressed down upon him like a tonne of bricks. Nothing seemed to make sense, his brain felt disconnected from his body, and though he knew he should let go of his mother's hand, that there was no use holding onto it anymore, and that she couldn't feel his touch in the slightest, he held on desperately, as though scared to break this final connection, as though if he were to let go he would be accepting her death, accepting that he hadn't been able to help...
And so he held on, both hands tight around hers, refusing to let it go cold, to accept that she had left him...
He sat there for hours, with Alex's arms around his neck and her head rested on his as she sat on the arm of his chair, and Fitz's head on his lap. He sat there until the sun peaked through the crack in the curtains, and until the beam of light fell on his mothers pale face. At that moment, as the white pallor of death became prominent, Gene's whole body sagged, the resolve that he had somehow maintained as the darkness remained, the hope that he was mistaken, that she was sleeping, slipping away into nothingness. He felt Alex's hand slide into his hair, felt her lips on his forehead, and he closed his eyes against the pain that threatened to swallow him whole, using her body as a pillow as she soothed his anguish with tender fingers.
Later – he had no idea how much later – Alex drew away, tilting his chin up tenderly, her eyes puffy with tears as she whispered to him. "Have you said goodbye?"
Gene glanced once more at the bed, gulping, and shaking his head. "No..." he gently covered her hand with his, closing his eyes to her touch before murmuring, "stay with me?"
Alex nodded. "Ok..." She stood up, slipping from the chair and gently rubbing his shoulder, waiting for him to move.
When he did, he was slow and fearful, one hand remaining around Maddie's as the other, trembling and clammy, traced the line of her face, before he leant forwards, pressing his lips lightly to her forehead.
"Bye Mam," he murmured, "yer daft cow..." His voice was soft, full of emotion, and even as the final phrase left his lips, Alex knew full well it was a teasing endearment which had followed them through the years, and she covered her mouth, feeling tears well once more at the sight of him so vulnerable and grief-stricken.
Gene pressed another kiss to Maddie's forehead, longer this time, his eyes closed as he took one last moment of solitude from the soft flowery scent that had been the one constant in his life. As he pulled away, a single tear slid from his eyes and splashed onto her cheek, before he released her hand with a heart-wrenching pang.
He tore his eyes away and reached blindly for Alex's hand; without a word, she led him away, fingers wrapped around his as they entered the hall. Fitz followed and she pulled the door shut behind them quickly, and as soon as it clicked into place, Gene was clinging to her, drawing her desperately against his chest and tangling his fingers into her hair. He stumbled backwards blindly, his back coming to contact with the wall as he held her, his breath ragged and choked. Alex did nothing but return the gesture, her arms around his waist, fingers trailing soft lines down his back, head on his chest, waiting until he had calmed slightly before drawing him into the living room and towards the sofa, where he collapsed into the cushions without grace or care.
His long legs stretched out in front of him, his arm draped over the sofa, eyes closed and head thrown back, chest rising and falling heavily as he tried to reign in the knee-buckling sorrow that bore down on him. Fitz leapt up to join him, treading a careful circle in the neighbouring cushion before curling up, his ears flat against his head and his eyes doleful and lonely, even as Gene's hand buried itself in the fur that covered his back. Alex moved towards the door, intending to fetch him a drink and some food, but Gene's hand shot out, tugging on her wrist, pulling her back towards him.
"Sit with me..." he said pleadingly, and though his eyes were still closed and gave nothing away, his fingers were tight around her flesh, his desperation painstakingly evident. Slowly, Alex moved back towards him, settling onto the arm of the sofa with her fingers caressing Gene's cheek. He let out a soft, breathy sigh before pulling her lightly into his lap, holding her close and sliding one hand to the pulse point at the side of her neck.
"It's beating," he murmured, fingers lingering at her throat, his eyes still closed, and Alex was certain she heard relief in his tone.
She nodded slowly, "yes."
Gene said nothing for several moments, opening his eyes to look at her, his expression distant and pained. Without a word, he pulled her against him, resting his chin on the top of her head and wrapping his fingers around hers, trying with all his might to dissolve into her and forget everything other than the feel of her against him, held safely in his arms.
"Alex?" He said eventually, his voice cracking.
"Yes, Gene?" She said, one hand in his, the other absently stroking Fitz's head.
He hesitated, and then murmured, "Can you call 'em? The funeral whatsits or whatever they're called... I- I can't... I don't think I can..."
Alex lifted her hand from the dogs head, cupping Gene's cheek and meeting his eyes, "you don't need to," she whispered. "I'll do it... Straight after you eat something and have a shower."
Gene didn't bother to protest.
---
He picked his way through a sausage sandwich, appetite completely absent despite not having eaten for almost twelve hours. He managed half a round, and then tossed the rest to Fitz, watching as the hungry dog devoured it in one mouthful. Running large hands over the dogs' body, Gene sighed, ruffling the ears and lightly tickling beneath the chin. He'd forgotten Fitz even existed until he'd entered the living room the night before, and then he'd managed to distract himself from his worry by feeding the starving Alsatian copious amounts of food and tossing the ball half-heartedly, until the big lump had become bored, slinking over to rest his head in Gene's lap. He'd lain down after that, with Fitz stretching out alongside him, gently butting his face whenever he became overly agitated.
Now, as he looked at the dog, watching him chew his tennis ball to pieces, and wondered what would happen to him. He was huge – that was half the reason his mother had brought him – but as far as Alsatians went, he was a softie. Maddie had wanted someone nearby to depend on for safety once Gene moved to London, and a dog had seemed the sensible choice; Fitz had joined her a month before Gene had left, and it had never occurred to him that his mother would outlive the loopy hound- because that simply wasn't how it went... Now the dog was two years old, not yet in his prime, and homeless, and that thought chilled him to the bone; his mother had loved the dog, often doting on him as she spoke down the phone to Gene himself, and that, in his opinion, made the scruffy bugger family.
He glanced across at Alex as she entered the room, feeling mellow and sentimental, watching her as she approached, pausing only briefly to scratch Fitz's head before she took the seat next to him, curling into his chest and tracing her fingers over his rumpled shirt. He closed his eyes, feeling tiredness tugging at his eyes, but knowing sleep would evade him until he could literally move no more. The feel of her with him was a comfort, and he felt slightly braver, arms wrapping around her back as he touched his mouth to her forehead, feeling incapable of anything else.
"Have a shower Gene," Alex whispered quietly, "have a shower, and put some fresh clothes on – I'll leave them in the bathroom." She kissed the corner of his mouth, and then stood up again.
Gene looked at her sadly, voice soft, "why are you here, Alex?"
She blinked, frowning slightly, and then touched the back of her hand to his cheek, "because I'm going to look after you," she whispered, hesitating only slightly before adding, "and because I love you." With a brush of lips to his head, Alex left him alone, Fitz close on her heels as she picked up his food bowl.
----
Alone in the room, Gene's skin prickled, his tired brain dredging up mental images of the last time he had sat here with his mother, drinking tea and eating garibaldi's just before he'd left for London. She'd been happy and smiley, laughing at his turns of phrase, reminiscing about stupid things he had done in childhood, telling him she'd miss him... He'd always meant to come back, but they'd spoken every Sunday for two years, and somehow that had seemed enough; he'd never considered that it would take her phoning from her death bed to bring him home- he'd just assumed that when he was ready, he'd make the long drive up to Manchester and spend a few days with her.
As he pulled himself to his feet and walked shakily upstairs to the bathroom, he tried in vain to block out a rush of emotion, trying to ignore the mirror in the hall where his mother had dolled herself up for a date a year after his father left, passing by the photos on the wall that he and Stu had once turned upside down in their frames and waited for his mother to notice, walking past the washing basket on the landing where once he'd hidden, just for the sake of jumping up out of it as his mother climbed the stairs for the toilet.
He stripped off in the bathroom, stepped into the shower and stood under the cold water, blasting himself until he was completely numb and barely able to feel his fingers. He stepped out, wrapping himself in the fluffy towel Alex had laid out for him and shivering against the chill. As he towelled himself dry and pulled on the clothes Alex had left for him, he wondered what he had done to deserve her, what he could ever offer in return; he'd shown himself that morning that he would never be able to say those three little words, that he couldn't voice anything he felt for her, despite how deep it might run within his body.
With a sigh, he trudged heavily back down the stairs, avoiding the living room in favour of the kitchen, where Alex sat with her hands curled around a cup of coffee, Fitz curled up at her feet. She'd changed into a fresh pair of black jeans, along with a red v-necked blouse- his normal reaction would have been to trace her curves with his fingers, show her how much he liked her new outfit and then proceed by ripping it off – he couldn't even bring himself to admire it, and he sat down beside her at the kitchen table, letting her twine her fingers with his and squeeze at him in silent reassurance. He reached out for her coffee, taking a large gulp for himself, before gently kneading his forehead with his fingers, a soft groan leaving his mouth as grief mingled with exhaustion.
"Come on," Alex murmured, getting to her feet and tugging at his hand. "You need a lie down."
---
It wasn't lost on him, as they lay chest-to-chest on the sofa, her hand rubbing gently at the skin beneath his shirt and her back pressed into the cushions, that it was this same situation of comfort and grief that had brought them together all those months ago. But the tables had turned since then, he realized. Then, he had reached out to Alex, gathering her against his chest as a friend and a companion; now, she reached for him, providing solace and comfort that he could never hope to thank her for, holding him as a lover, a partner...
He wanted to be scared, to panic at her open admission of love and run for the bloody hills, as he would have done a few months ago; but he couldn't bring himself to be sorry for Alex's love, or even to wish things were less serious- he liked being serious, he realized. He liked having someone to wake up to every morning and fall asleep with at night, and he liked knowing that whatever happened, however much shit he was dragged through and whatever hurt he had to endure, she was there to hold his hand, to stroke his hair and to ease away the lines of worry on his face.
His mother had been right; Alex made him happy- happier than he'd ever been with his wife, happier than he'd been on his own- and she was worth holding onto. He didn't like to think what the last day would have entailed without her, what he might have reduced himself to in his grief; drink, fags and strippers, probably. Somehow Alex's presence drove all of those desires away, and all he wanted, all he needed, was to sink into her embrace and forget everything else. He could forget the heavy weight in the pit of his stomach, and the cold fear of what may or may not lie beyond death, as long as Alex's scent inhabited his nostrils and her body rested softly alongside his own.
Eventually, he felt exhaustion weighing him down, and even though it was fitful, he dozed off, passing away several hours in a frenzied sleep, remaining oblivious as Alex allowed the funeral director in and watched them carry the heavy oak coffin from the house.
As the door closed behind them, Gene stirred, rising wearily to his feet at seeing Alex in the hall, silent tears trickling down her cheeks. He gulped, approaching her slowly, pulling her close and pressing his face into her neck, breathing deeply.
"She's gone," he said softly, voice trembling, "hasn't she?" And for a moment, Alex saw the child he once was, laid bare before her as he shook with grief.
"Yes..." Alex whispered, "I didn't want to wake you, but they said you can see her before the-"
"No," Gene cut her off, pulling her back into the living room. "I don't want to see her like that."
---
Alex knew he didn't sleep that night; he refused to return to his childhood bed, and seemed to consider it sacrilege to even consider using his mothers, and so the two of them lay down on the sofa, with Fitz curled up in his basket on the other side of the room. He spent the night tossing and turning, breaking into cold sweats whenever he began to doze off, and by five in the morning, he'd given up, dragging himself to his feet and sloping towards the kitchen. Alex watched him go, seeing the mournful way in which he trailed his fingers over the door handle before leaving, biting her lip to quell tears. She knew he wouldn't sleep here, knew he was exhausted and angry and bitter, and she knew she had to help him, but somehow suggesting that they leave the house, if only for a few hours, seemed insensitive and cruel.
----
After five hours of watching him slumping in the furniture, drinking copious amounts of coffee and tracing his fingers around the rim of china cups as though praying for a mystical creature to burst out and grant him three wishes, Alex had had enough, and led him out of the house by the hand, leaving Fitz in the living room with a large bowl of food.
Gene didn't even protest it, vaguely registering that the temperature outside was chilly before he allowed her to steer him to the passenger seat of the Quattro, barely even glancing at her as she turned the key in the ignition, resting his head on the windowpane and simply allowing her to drive.
---
She'd noted the Motel at the other end of town as she drove towards the shops the other evening, and though she doubted it was of any great quality or reputation, it seemed to her like the perfect place for her to help Gene clear his head. She booked them into a room, and as the landlady led them upstairs she could feel Gene relax slightly, heard the breath of relief as he sank into the small wicker chair in the corner of the dingy room.
His muscles were less tense, his posture more relaxed, but even with the change of scenery he was agitated and twitchy, shifting uncomfortably. Alex sat at the bottom of the double bed, her knees tucked into her chest as she watched him, wondering how to help him, if there was any way to aid him through his bitter grief; she knew talking wouldn't help, that he'd close himself off from her immediately, and she knew that simply sitting there in his lap would only prolong the inevitable grief when she left him alone again. He needed an outlet, something physical to distract him, mellow him down, possibly exhaust him enough to lure him into sleep, and somehow, after some consideration, only one thing seemed plausible.
Drink, she had thought originally, before common sense got the better of her and she realized it was only as effective as her sitting with him, if not less so, and somehow the idea of a depressed, drunk Gene was more than she felt able to handle, and unless he reached the point of unconsciousness, it might not even make him sleep.
Cigarettes were her second thought, but he'd smoked enough of them in the past few days without her encouraging it, and it was only a distraction, it wouldn't exhaust him enough to lull him into sleep.
So as far as Gene's interests stretched, that just left sex. She could feel her stomach flip slightly, watching him shift in his chair uncomfortably. Gene Hunt was a man who expressed himself physically, and sex was the one thing she knew to have always calmed him down; if he was angry, the sex was fast and dirty, but when he finished, he still gathered her close and kissed her temple. If he was feeling particularly sentimental towards Alex, he expressed it through gentle caresses, soft kisses and whispers of his lips against her skin.
She wasn't sure which he would demonstrate now, in the wake of grief and mourning, but as she looked at his tense, agitated body as he fidgeted in his seat, she realized it didn't matter.
---
When she emerged from the bathroom fifteen minutes later, she couldn't be sure what to expect; he looked distant and lost, and even as his eyes trailed up over her scantily clad form she wondered if he was really taking any of it in.
She had originally debated leaving her clothes on- he always seemed to enjoy peeling them away from her body- but she knew he wouldn't initiate contact, knew that if she wanted to provoke his primal urges then she needed to be as openly forward as possible. She saw the bulge in his jeans grow larger as she swayed her hips suggestively, saw him gulp as she approached him and felt his breath on her skin as she slid into his lap, her mouth next to his ear and fingers slipping buttons from their holes.
"Alex, I can't-"
"Shush," she murmured softly, lips covering his neck, trailing down to the v of skin at his chest, tongue flicking out and drawing soft breaths from his lips. "Let me look after you."
Gene's breath was heavy as he answered, "don't need looking after..."
"Yes, you do," Alex murmured, unfastening the last few buttons of his shirt before pushing the fabric away from his chest. Her lips traced a soft line up his chest and neck, her lower body moving slowly against his. Gene's hands were on her waist, pushing her softly away, until her hands brushed over his crotch, sparking a groan from him that was involuntary and ragged. Her lips slid lower, down to his stomach as she slipped from his lap, pushing his legs apart and kneeling between them. Just as her lips brushed his waistband, he let out a soft whimper, giving in as her fingers deftly undid his trousers and pushed both them and his boxers low on his hips. "Let me look after you," she murmured, her breath teasing across the tip of his erection. Gene gasped, his hands moving to the back of her head, before pulling her down onto him.
----
He hadn't wanted to do anything; she'd walked out of the bathroom, and even though his eyes had trailed up over her body and his groin stirred at the sight of her in her skimpy lace underwear, he hadn't intended to respond. In fact, even as she swayed towards him, he'd felt no inclination whatsoever to reach out and touch her, even as she slid into his lap and brushed his already half-erect length with her centre through the fabric of his clothes.
He could have resisted easily enough if she hadn't brushed his skin with her lips, and if she hadn't kept grinding her hips slowly against him. The moment her mouth fell to his neck he knew he was lost, even as he attempted to push her away. Her hands brushed across him, and something gave way; he stopped trying to fight, watched as she slid to the floor, kissing down across his soft stomach and pushing the trousers and boxers aside, and the second she was there, between his legs, wearing nothing but skimpy lace and offering to look after him, he knew there was no point denying it. His fingers were in her hair and he was pulling her mouth slowly over him in moments, closing his eyes to the touch of her lips.
---
She took him deep in her mouth, negating to lick and tease at his tip as she usually did, angling him instead towards the back of her mouth, sucking him gently before sliding her mouth up and down, her hand slipping up between his legs to caress the heavy weight of his balls, hearing his soft groan of pleasure before releasing his length from her hot mouth, instead swiping her tongue along the underside of his erection, fixing her eyes briefly on his, watching his eyes darken with familiar lust. She gently kissed her way up, small whispers of the lips against the hot, straining flesh before returning to his tip, tongue flicking across the sensitive bud of nerves before she covered him yet again, taking him as deep as possible and then trailing up, her teeth grazing the hard length of him while one hand wrapped around his base, moving gently up and down in time with her mouth. He was wrought with pleasure, his fingers digging into her scalp as small gasps and groans left his lips, and she smiled against him as she continued on.
She could feel him tense, feel his whole body stiffen, every muscle clenching as she sucked harder, hearing the desperate, lustful noise that always succeeded in turning her to goo, a moan leaving her mouth, vibrating down his shaft and through his whole body...
And then he snapped.
----
He didn't know what happened; one second he was enjoying it, the soft lips and tongue wrapped around him, teasing him into bliss. The next, something hit him, something that made his pent up grief and angst surface, and he couldn't help the sudden burst of desire that shot through him. His melancholy, his grief and his hurt all transformed into desperation, and as he dragged her mouth over him, fingers hard in her hair, he was blinded to everything else. His control splintered, and as he thrust his hips up to meet her mouth, he didn't hear her whimper of protest, was oblivious to the tears streaming down her face, and the way she stopped trying to pleasure him.
It was only after stars burst before his eyes and he had gruffly ordered her to swallow, holding her over him until he had completely emptied himself into her waiting mouth that he noticed.
It was only when Alex let out a large, shuddering sob, pushing against his legs as though to pull away, that Gene remembered she was even there, and in that moment the bliss of his relief, though still causing his body to tremble and quiver with its intensity, was replaced by all-consuming guilt. His hands fell away from her, and as she pulled her head away he felt his body sag in the chair, trembling at the sight of her tear-stained cheeks, flinching at the sight of the swollen flesh around her mouth that was certain to bruise from the violence of his assault.
He stared at her, aching to comfort her and yet simultaneously too terrified to touch her. She remained between his legs, incapable of movement as she trembled with shock and shook with tears.
In the end, Gene slumped onto the floor in front of her, fingers shaking as he traced the line of her face, thumb brushing hesitantly across her lips before he whispered, voice cracked and broken, "I'm sorry... I'm so, so fucking sorry, Alex..."
She was still crying, the make-up she had applied just for him running down her cheeks with the endless flow of tears, and it was all he could do to resist pressing his lips to her face, to stop himself attempting to kiss away the pain he had so thoughtlessly inflicted.
She met his eyes, still crying, though her sobs were silent and the tears splashed unchecked to the floor as she slipped her arms around his neck, hands seeking the warm reassurance that she always found in the touch of his bare skin, in the fuzz of hair at the back of his neck. Gene stayed still, terrified to touch her in case he hurt her again, his hands hanging loosely at his side as she cried silently into his neck, her chest pressed into his.
He was still shaking as he twisted his head, feeling his eyes sting slightly as he whispered again, "I'm sorry... I'm sorry... Jesus, Alex, I'm sorry..."
"Hold me?" She whispered timidly, clinging to him tighter than ever. She could feel him clam up, felt his muscles tensing at her request, and she drew back, her eyes puffy and desperate. "Gene, please... please..."
"I can't!" He said desperately. "I can't hurt you again!" He didn't move away, but nor did his hands move to comfort her, and a sob left Alex's lips as she raised a hand to his cheek.
"You won't," she whispered softly. "I don't blame you, Gene... I wanted you to-"
"Wanted me to what, Alex?" He asked bitterly, pushing her away forcefully. "To hurt you? To make you cry? To make us both feel like shit?"
"No," Alex whispered. "I wanted- I thought it might help..."
Gene stared at her, seeing the blatant honesty, the need for him to understand... and then he was raising a hand to her cheek again, tracing it with quivering fingertips as he murmured, "And did it, Alex? Did it help?"
"Yes," she said softly, covering his hand with hers. "You're grieving, Gene; you're allowed to be angry... I know you won't do it again..."
"Do you?" He asked, voice soft and gruff.
Alex nodded slowly. "Yes... I trust you..." She moved closer again, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw line and whispering into his skin. "Just hold me, Gene."
Hesitantly, he slid his hands to her waist, gulping as she pressed closer to him both of them trembling as he wrapped her into his chest, breath shaken as he said softly, "I don't deserve you, Alex."
---
Big thank you to Feline yet again for all her lovely feedback on beta-duty :-)
Unfortunately unless I crack out another chapter by friday (unlikely) there wont be any updates for a few weeks guys, sorry! Got a hectic few weeks coming up lol.
Mage of the Heart