DCI Gene Hunt (
the_gene_genie) wrote2011-08-01 05:28 pm
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Entry tags:
- 1888,
- kate barlow,
- oom,
- texas
OOM: Texas, 1888. Just outside Oakville
He's glad when she rides them out of town, away from where anyone might see this. It makes sense, of course. It'd be a bit stupid for her to be teaching him how to do this stuff in full view of the people who think he already knows how.
It feels weird to be back in the saddle after a few days out of it, though. Hurts, too. He'd thought these aches were going away but nope, they were only asleep. So it's a bit of an uncomfortable ride, especially coupled with the heat. He doesn't moan though. He'll be in trouble if she changes her mind about helping him here.
It feels weird to be back in the saddle after a few days out of it, though. Hurts, too. He'd thought these aches were going away but nope, they were only asleep. So it's a bit of an uncomfortable ride, especially coupled with the heat. He doesn't moan though. He'll be in trouble if she changes her mind about helping him here.
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She smirks.
Guilty. But she refuses to tell him he's doing a good job.
"Less fun for me, but y'still gotta learn t'catch a movin' target. You're not done by a long shot."
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'This is the bit where I get t'catch you, an' you end up doin' exactly what I want for the night?'
Bring it on.
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Not. Gonna. Happen.
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He coils the rope in, more smirk than man, and then saunters over to Concession.
'C'mon then. Sooner we do this, sooner I get me reward.'
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"You are not practicin' on me, Gene."
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'Why not? You jus' saw I can do it.'
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His hurt expression is met without sympathy.
"I'm made of slightly different stuff."
Beat.
"Keep your mouth shut."
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'I know exactly what you're made of,' he murmurs, right before kissing her. 'I've tasted it.'
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She nibbles on his bottom lip for a little while, taking her time with him. She's slow and thorough, searching for what combination of teeth and tongue and lips will get a reaction out of him.
"Y'think so?"
His words make her a little warm.
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Oh, it's not hard to get a reaction out of him. Not when she's kissing him like that.
'Could be persuaded t'do it again. Do a proper job. Did too good a job las' time. Didn't, ahh...get time t'enjoy it properly.'
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"Mmmph. S'that right?"
By what miracle her voice stays steady and sultry she couldn't say. She's only too glad to keep him occupied with kissing her so he doesn't notice the way her cheeks have flushed with color.
One hand follows the rocky trail down his spine to his backside.
"Terrible, terrible shame. How've y'managed this long so deprived?"
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His hand mirrors hers, cupping the swell of her cheek and using it to press her against him properly. His lips don't stop playing at hers, touching lightly, nipping gently. He is so hard done by.
'Gives me the right 'orn.'
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She doesn't think it is. And, so long as he's trying to get some proper contact between them, she slips her leg between his and presses herself up snug, bending her knee just enough to put some pressure between his legs.
"Maybe I'll make you spend all night hollerin' for me. Hm?"
Her teeth descend his jawline, nip the curve, and keep on falling until she's sucking gently on his neck.
"Y'know what I wanna hear y'say?"
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'Make me yell, I'll return the favour.'
God, her mouth feels good.
'What d'you wan' me t'say?'
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"Honda."
Her lips twitch.
"Bridle catch. Half-hitch. Dally. Green-broke."
She feeds him every term she's spent the better part of today teaching him, in a voice just as lusty and wicked as you please.
Did he really think he was going to get off that easy?
(No pun intended.)
"Clove hitch. Earmark. Remuda. Riding drag..."
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'You really know how t'kill the mood, you know that?'
Except she hasn't, because it doesnt matter what she says, as long as it's in a tone like that.
His hands go back to her bum, and he pushes himself against her leg.
'You can test me halfway through if y'like.'
Fine with him. It'll mean they've made it that far.
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Her eyes drop to his hips, and she smirks.
"I'll be sure I pull you up before you're through, then. See how your mind works all addled-like. Though — "
She replaces her leg with her hand.
"You're not gonna want t'get on the back'a that horse too excited."
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His eyes close briefly.
'I reckon you could think of somethin' t'relieve the problem.'
He'd lay money on it, in fact.
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Smirk.
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'You can do better than that.'
Because the alternative is that she's wound him twice today without following through, and he doesn't want to have to start calling her names. In his head, if nowhere else.
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"Are you so certain?"
He can call her all the names he likes. He started it by getting her going, in both instances. Should he feel a little frustration for all the vexation he's caused in her would be no skin off her nose.
But her lips do find their way under his chin, nibbling and kissing, and her free hand seeks out the little round fastenings on his britches.
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Were they to get into it, he's pretty sure that the near miss this morning was at her instigation. He'd been innocently eating breakfat, thankyouverymuch.
He's hyper-aware of what that spare hand is doing - well, both of them, if we're honest. Pretty hard to ignore the other one. So he feels safe enough in finding her breast, squeezing lightly, remembering the feel of it in his mouth.
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Her lips brush his pulse point, followed by the tip of her tongue. She sucks gently on the flesh while her hand parts fabric. She's trying to work a little slack into his britches so she can slip her hand inside.
"Though, it ain't gonna be so easy out here."
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Hell yes. He couldn't give a toss where they are. And the prospect of not having to keep the volume down is a welcome one as well.
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She snorts softly. She reckons Gene could make the best of any situation, as far as satisfying Little Gene is concerned. She doesn't know any other man as determined to come as he is.
There is something kind of exciting about being out in the middle of nowhere, just twilight and sand and their two bodies, the brightest thing left around them the glowing tip of his forgotten cigarette. It's been a while since someone caught her under the moonlight, touching her just so. But the mechanics of getting him undone robs the moment of any romance.
"D'you wanna find someplace where y'can recline a bit?"
She has no idea if any such place exists, but there could be a sturdy enough tree nearby. She wouldn't want his knees to give out on her, after all. If they even get that far — these elastic-banded underpants of his don't make life easy on her.
"...An' when are y'gonna wear some decent drawers?"
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