the_gene_genie | OOM: Kate's room again.

Entry tags:

kate,
oom

OOM: Kate's room again.

It's been a few weeks since he last saw her. The first one, he spent making up for not being able to drink the week before. The few after that - well. He's well aware that their last conversation didn't go too well. It seemed sensible to steer clear, and he wasn't all that happy with her either, was he?

But the awkwardness of the thing with Guppy has ebbed away a bit now, and he's been wondering what she's up to. Even if their last conversation was a bit crap, that's no reason not to see where they're at. So, in typical Gene Hunt style, he decides to take the bull by the horns. He still wants to go to Texas, and he still wants to see her. If that means another awkward conversation - well, so be it.

After checking she's not in the bar, and not in the stables, he heads up to her room. His knock is as bold as ever, no sign of nerves.

'You in there?'

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'I was in the Army, luv. I know basic wilderness survival.'

And she's one of the few people in the bar for whom his knowledge won't be completely outdated. But the basics hold true in any era.

His hands go back to her waist, and then slide to her hips. He leans a fraction closer.

'Ridin' the other nag - fine. Wha's the picnic about, though?'

By the time he reaches the final question, his lips are murmuring against the corner of her mouth; barely touching, but there all the same.

Her jaw works soundlessly. She's sure she's taken one step back for every step forward he's inched, and yet she can still feel the wet heat of his mouth hovering over her skin.

She swallows.

"Y'wanna prove t'me that we can get along, an' that I ain't jus' your ticket t'Texas ... so, take me somewhere. Jus' you an' me."

'Alright.'

He kisses her then, with more intent than before, one hand running up her body to come to rest at the side of her neck. The other slides around her hip, lying just above the slight swell of her buttock.

'Tomorrow. If it's not pissing down.'

She flushes with heat. Eyes closed, she can still see the way his hands move over her body. Every touch is like electricity that hums in her skin long after he's gone.

"T'morrow."

She's acutely aware that under his hands is her dress, and under her dress is her chemise, and under that ... is nothing at all. It makes the way he's touching her just this side of naughty.

"Fine. Okay. S'a deal, then."

Her hands slowly push under the shoulders of his jacket, encouraging it off of him.

'Mmm. 'K.'

He lets her do most of the work, because then he can keep feeling her up. Only when the thing is stuck on his arms does he let go, and allow the jacket to fall to the floor. When his hands go back on her, one returns to her backside, and the other rests high on her ribs, just to the side of her breast. He kisses her again, harder, pulling her against him.

'Were you in the bath when I knocked?' he murmurs, when he comes up for air. His breathing is a tad heavy.

She may have to wait to reply. He's snogging her again.

Every time he moves in it pulls a little gasp out of her. She's half-suspicious he keeps doing it just to hear her.

"No."

It's all she can get out before he has her flush against him, and she's gasping against his mouth. But her hair is damp from being braided fresh out of a bath, and she smells like lilacs and vanilla.

Her arms go around his neck.

"But I was earlier. Why?"

He has high hopes for the sounds he'll be hearing out of her mouth, it's true.

'Gives me the horn.'

If he's any judge, he's not the only one suffering that particular fate at the moment.

His mouth finds her neck; his fingers bunch her dress where he's holding her arse. And his other hand creeps onto her breast, cupping it gently, like he's convinced she's going to shove him away any second, but is hoping his lips are distracting her attention from it.

Her breath catches. He should be able to feel the way the muscles in her neck tense, and how her heartbeat picks up the pace a little.

Right, now his hands have wandered over the line, full-force into 'naughty' territory.

"You filthy bastard."

It's whispered without the slightest ounce of heat. She curls one hand in his hair, while her other does in fact slide down his arm and carefully removes his hand from her breast. But she doesn't push him far, and once he's at a more respectable position her hand sneaks under his suit jacket, following the waistband of his trousers to the small of his back.

'Oh, you don' know the half of it, luv.'

Rebuffed, his hand tries a different tack, slipping around her until it's also on her backside, pulling her dress up an inch or two. And he moves, pressing one leg between hers, as his lips pull at the fair skin of her throat.

'But you will.'

The way his lips pull at her throat jars her. She tenses again, and this time pulls back a little; her shoulders hunch noticeably, like she's trying to protect herself. But it's been a long enough time since she was touched like this that she reacts to his hands, the press of his leg, and at length she relaxes. She moans quietly, digging her fingers into his dress shirt. Her thigh slides against his on reflex, toes curled.

Exhaling:

"Only half? Well, that ain't nothin' t'be ashamed of."

'We'll see if you're sayin' that when the time comes, sweetheart.'

Which he really, really hopes is now. His leg presses into her, and he brings a hand up so he can brush the pad of his thumb over her cheekbone; her hesitation doesn't go unnoticed, but neither does the way she's relaxing. So he keeps kissing her, soft and hungry, hoping that this time nothing's going to get in the way.

The way he kisses her leaves her breathless. There isn't even time for fear or reservation to pull her back; there's only his mouth, and hers, the way his breath tickles her skin, and the touch of his tongue.

The next time he presses into her she shudders; her hips shift against him, ever so gently.

"Gene."

She reaches up to cup his face, pulling back just far enough to catch her breath.

He's grinning - a touch smugly - when she pulls away. He didn't miss that movement of her hips.

He doesn't pull away. He stays right where he is, and edging in for more.

'Gonna let me stay, then?'

She tips her face just enough to keep him from kissing her again. She feels lightheaded and warm, and that smugness doesn't go unnoticed. He's not out of the doghouse, yet. They still have a lot to figure out. And her mind is too foggy to make a proper decision right now.

But he's ... he's warm, and solid, and surprisingly tender; all she can think about are the bad dreams she's been having. The conversation with her daddy. And she doesn't really want to be alone.

Her hand slides up under his jacket, following the path of his spine before stopping between his shoulder blades.

"Maybe."

She brushes her lips over the hollow in his throat, dragging her thumb along his jaw.

"Not sure it's a good idea."

'You wouldn' be sayin' that later.'

His hand runs up her ribs, coming to rest at the side of her breast, while the other inches her dress a touch higher at her backside.

Hey, she didn't say no.

"You're awful sure of yourself."

She tries to keep her breathing even, so he'll be sure to hear the full measure of disdain in her voice. Those creeping fingers haven't gone unnoticed, however.

She returns her gaze to his face, eyeing him through heavy lashes.

"Did — did y'ever see someone? About — ?"

He grins, at least until she says that. It makes him pull back, frowning a bit.

'...yeah. Guppy gave me the all-clear, that las' night I saw you.'

Her hand falls from his back when he moves.

"... Guppy?"

Suddenly, her lust-heavy eyes are as bright as firecrackers.

"Y'mean you saw someone here? Y'saw Guppy?"

'...yeah?'

She never said he shouldn't.

'It'd be a bit tricky doin' it at home.'

"It would?"

It dawns on her then that he forgets the bar when he leaves. She'd plumb forgot.

"Oh. Oh, god."

She touches her face and takes a step back.

"I didn't ... Didja tell him why? That it was because I — ?"

He wasn't thinking of that. More that his wife has the same GP, and he's always hated the idea of those special clinics.

'...I didn' tell him anythin'. I didn' need to. He might look stupid, but he's really not.'

"What's that mean?"

She's clinging on to one last desperate hope that this isn't as bad as she thinks it is.

But she's already bracing herself for the worst.

Goddamn, nobody else was supposed to know.

He looks at her like, really, she should know better than to ask that question.

'It means that when a bloke an' a bird hang around together like we've been, then the reason why gets obvious. Even t'people like him.'

'I don' get it. What's the matter?'

She groans, turning her back to him for a moment. Perhaps she deserved that.

"I didn't think we were bein' all that obvious. I thought we were bein' discreet."

She's struggling to wrap her head around everything without hurting his feelings.

"I wasn't plannin' on anyone else knowin'."

Hurt feelings are not something he thinks would ever happen.

Dented pride, maybe.

'...why not?'

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