the_gene_genie | OOM: Texas, 1888. Just outside Oakville

Again.

She can't take her eyes off of him, focused intently on every expression that crosses his face. She changes up her speed and movements now and then, wanting to see what gets the biggest reaction, learning what he seems to like best.

She does notice something from the corner of her eye, however. A slow crawling mass in her peripheral. It takes her a moment in the growing darkness to recognize the shape of the scorpion that's crawled out from the cluster of rocks, but not quite as long to shift her weight to her knee and use her free hand to brush it away. It snaps at the air as the flick of her wrist sends it airborne, hopefully before Gene notices.

His head has dropped forward, chin on his chest, panting in each breath through an open mouth. His hat rests precariously on the back of his head, everything forgotten but the wicked touch of her hand. He groans when she strokes up the length, but positively keens when she plays around the crown, starting to clench as she speeds up.

He vaguely follows her free hand when she moves, noticing the slight falter in rhythm. But he didn't see anything, is only aware of the rest of the world in the most tentative of ways.

'...wha'?'

He doesn't get any further, because oh God, she is good at this.

"Shh."

She returns to his side, snug, cupping his cheek with her hand. No need to bother him until after. And, honestly, the sooner the better — before any other wildlife comes snooping.

She kisses him, careful not to cut off his air supply. She runs her fingertips along the ridge that spans the underside of his shaft, massaging gently, then strokes him again. Never sticking too long with one technique, one speed.

"Come for me."

Her mouth is pressed against his skin, eyes open to him.

"C'mon..."

She's teasing him perfectly, drawing him up to the edge, but she's so gentle. He's not used to it this way, and it's exciting, but it's not going to push him over.

So, he pushes his hand down to cover hers, encouraging her to circle him, moaning loud at the feel of it.

'Tight...tighter, luv. Jus' a bit...'

No denying he's nearly there. Just the pressure from their hands has his eyes closed tight; when he pushes into the grip, the cursing gives him away.

'G'on, sweet'eart...fast. Nearly...'

She nods gently, following his cues, giving him exactly what he wants. She's moaning too, just so softly, breathing quick as she dares him closer, closer, hoping to have him unraveling.

It doesn't take long. Hearing her drawn into it turns him on even more, lets him go, feeling it's something she's doing with him. His free arm curls around her waist, keeping her close as he thrusts up quick, messy and...

...and he's silent at the end. He can't get any sound out. But the way he's gone rigid tells the whole story, and the tightness with which he's gripping her wrist. He doesn't mean to hurt her, but he's not aware of much beyond the pleasure burning him up inside, and her hand, that he can't let go of.

She winces, letting out a quiet grunt. She's only glad that he doesn't have her by the other wrist, where the marks those three goons left on her have fully set.

The look on his face is mesmerizing. She lets out a soft gasp, watching him, waiting for him to ride the rest of the pleasure out.

He relaxes his grip eventually, when he realises what he's doing. A look of consternation crosses his face, but he's breathing too hard to say anything. He just falls back to lean on his hands again, letting the world right itself. His ears sound like someone's pouring sand through them, and his heart is taking its time to return to normal.

A minute later, and he's leaning back in to kiss her, deep and slow. Best way he knows how to say 'thanks'.

He doesn't really need words, anyway.

She communicates her responses in the same fashion: a gentle furrowing of her brow when he looks dismayed; a small smile; a soft shake of the head. She touches his lips, followed by his neck, and when he moves in to kiss her she's prepared to meet him.

She sighs into it, holding him close.

Message received.

He's content to relax for a minute or two, letting the pleasure steep through him, and then fade. His eyes are soft for once; a rare thing.

But it is getting dark out here, and he's sated now. Could definitely do with some food, and a drink.

'Shall we go?' he murmurs, stroking a hand down her back.

Her eyes, on the other hand, are constantly moving. She's checking the vicinity for critters while he catches his breath, sweeping the horizon quickly to be sure he's safe to relax.

She smiles in response to the hand down her back and the look in his eyes, reining in a bemused little chuckle.

"Good idea."

She tidies him up a bit, tucking his shirt back into his trousers and helping with buttons. She nods to his left arm, the smile still cradled softly on her face as she adds:

"Before he bites you."

There's a (small) scorpion hanging off his sleeve.

'Shit!'

Cue, flail.

The scorpion lands about six feet away; it looks like Gene's thinking of pulling his gun on it, but he refrains at the last minute.

'Bastard. Where'd that come from?'

She snickers.

"It's the desert, Gene. There's probably a whole mess of 'em underneath your backside."

She sucks in a breath as she pushes herself off of him. Her joints are sore, for one; and, for another, she's gently aching where she had herself pressed up to his thigh. She straightens her clothes, and moves away carefully.

"Lots of things start comin' out after it cools off at night. He's all right, so long as y'don't harry 'im."

'Could say the same abou' me,' he mutters darkly, edging firmly away from the rock.

The idea of a mass of scorpions under there...yeeeeah, he's had nicer visions.

'How about we bugger off then, before any more of 'em turn up to try an' take lumps out of me when I'm enjoyin' meself.'

He catches her around the waist, never mind that she's moving away. He wants another kiss.

"Think I might have, actually, a time or two."

It's a good rule to live by, as far as Gene Hunt is concerned. She's snickering when his arms loop around her, tipping her head back against his chest so she can see his face.

"Think that's a fine idea, though y'should know better than t'assume I'd let anythin' take a chunk outta you that wasn't me," she murmurs, hands sliding over his wrists.

'Oh, well, you're allowed to.'

He smirks, and kisses her soundly, running a hand down the side of her breast as he does.

She snickers softly, tipping up into the kiss. Soon, the only sound she's making is a quiet moan. She laces her fingers with his, her other hand climbing halfway to curl around the back of his head and falling short just at his shoulder.

"Y'liked that, then?"

She matches the smirk on his face, breathing deep.

"I'll remember that later. Now, c'mon b'fore it gets too dark t'see the noses on our faces."

Edited 2011-08-17 23:08 (UTC)

'Would'a thought that were obvious,' he murmurs, pressing another kiss to her lips.

But then he does straighten, though his hands are clearly reluctant to leave her body.

'You can remember it as long as you like. I'll return the favour, no bother.'

Be glad to, in fact.

He meanders off in the direction of the horses, catching her fingers and tugging them lightly, before sparking a fag and drawing in a deep lungful. Marvellous. What an excellent evening this has been.

"Good."

She smiles, looking a deal more relaxed than she has all day. She lingers a moment where she is after his hand breaks from hers, pulling in a deep breath.

"Try an' keep Concession behind Beaut as we ride. Moon's nice an' big, but at least that way there's less chance of him steppin' in a hole an' breakin' a leg. It'll be slower goin' ridin' back at this hour."

She wanders up to Beaut, and unties her reins. Gently, she runs her free hand down Gene's spine.

"When we get back, you still have a lotta practicin' t'do."

'Why, is he a bit thick?'

He has long harboured this thought. Because surely, any horse...well, they're all a bit thick, actually, but any horse who can't see well enough to stay out of holes has to earn a special prize for dimness. He'd comment on it further, but then she says that, and there's no way he can leave it alone.

'Cheeky bint. I though' we established las' night that I'm quite practiced enough.'

She cocks a look at him, on her way to answering him with the obvious tease and jab. And then he finishes with that remark, making her eyes widen a touch and any comment she might have made dissolve into laughter.

"I meant," she says, leaning in and tugging at his coil of rope, "with this."

She grins sharply, getting to her tiptoes to plant one last kiss on him.

"Get in the saddle, lawman."

He pulls a face after he's returned the kiss, and turns to the horse.

'Tha's not nearly as much fun,' he grumps, good-naturedly, and shrugs with his hands at her.

'Waitin' on you, petal.'

"How gentlemanly."

She sighs, rolling her eyes and steeling herself for the ride back. There's no reason for Gene to know that she's been putting off getting back into the saddle, and so with all excuses exhausted she swings her leg up — and pauses — and gingerly settles herself down.

"When you see fit," she says on an exhale, taking Beaut out a few steps.

...annnnd, that'll be him doing a very bad job of hiding a snicker. One might be forgiven for thinking he wasn't trying to hide it at all.

He nudges Concession alongside, grinning through the fading light.

'Bit sore, are we?'

She turns her head slowly.

"Mind your tongue or you'll be joinin' me."

She holds her reins high and gives a little click, encouraging Beaut into a canter. She pulls in front of him, and allows herself a small smirk.

"An' remember t'stay in her path."

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