I don't own Ashes to Ashes...

... And nor do Cheeky-vim or SuperHolz, but they forced this upon me!


"Ah, oui Alistair! Oui! Très bien! Au revoir!"

Alex hung up the phone with a smirk, sashaying over to stand in front of Gene with a smug grin upon her face. "Told you so," she said, smiling sweetly up at him. "I'm going on a date with Alistair Francois tomorrow night... Are you jealous?"

Gene instantly snorted in derision, but then scrunched his face into a thoughtful pout. "Depends..." he murmured. "You gunna let 'im twang yer fancy French knickers?"

"I couldn't possibly say, Guv," Alex smiled, holding her hand out expectantly and fluttering her eyelashes. "I do believe you owe me a fiver?"

"Steady on, Bols," Gene smirked. "He hasn't showed up yet." His eyes danced wickedly, and he was more than a little surprised when Alex ran her tongue seductively over her lips and stepped closer.

"Oh he'll show," she whispered, standing on tiptoe to whisper softly in his ear. "After what I just told him I'd be wearing, he'd be a fool to stay away...Trust me."

Gene's hand was on her waist a moment later as she moved to step away, the blood rushing straight to his groin as he held her firmly in place, speaking quietly but firmly in her ear. "Tenner says you don't want 'im in yer knickers by the end of the night!"

"Twenty says I won't wear knickers at all," her reply was swift and instant, and Gene felt the groan rise up in his throat as his hand clenched on her hip.

"In that case, thirty says I'm under the table sneakin' a peek while Francois feeds you frog's legs!" His eyebrows waggled, and Alex laughed, throwing her head back as she did so.

"Forty says you disappoint," she answered, grinning.

Gene chuckled, leaning in to whisper in her ear again. "Fifty says I'm so good you have to excuse yourself and-"

"Guv!" Ray's voice cut through the easy flirting, and Gene's head snapped up; Alex moved to turn around, but Gene held her firmly in place with both hands – it was only after she'd looked down that Alex understood why, and she had to stifled a laugh by biting on her hand. "Just got a call," Ray went on. "Been a burglary on Bickley's Street."

And with that, Gene let her go.


It really had been a silly bet, Alex reflected later that night as she lazed around in her flat, draped over the sofa with a glass of wine in one hand and a book in the other. It wasn't even provoked; Alistair had represented one of the suspects in a shooting, made harmless flirtations with Alex after the case had been closed, had left his number at the desk, and left the station without any real sense of intent.

Alex hadn't even considered calling him until Gene had teased her relentlessly, offering sarcastic condolences that her French wasn't up to scratch, and offering her an English alternative; so she'd bet him a fiver she could arrange a date in French, and he'd countered with the bet that Alistair wouldn't understand, and wouldn't show up... The whole thing had flown cataclysmically out of control when Alistair had agreed, and Gene's betting had increased; she didn't know why she'd bothered to counter, when it was blindingly obvious to everyone – and in this even Chris had expressed his opinion– that Alex didn't even want to sleep with Alistair, and he would most definitely not be finding his way into her knickers - French or otherwise.

She was broken from her reverie by the shrill ringing of the telephone, and she managed a small sigh of relief; surely, that would be Alistair calling to cancel, and she could simply give Gene his fiver and be done with it. Smiling to herself, she placed her book down and picked up the phone.

"Alistair?" She asked, putting her glass of wine on the coffee table as she awaited the reply; there was none for several seconds, and then a gruff, slurring voice sounded.

"No," Gene answered with difficulty. "'s'me... Stop sulkin' an' come 'ave a drink..."

Alex smiled to herself, stifling a laugh. "Are you downstairs?" She asked, grinning and continuing on as though she hadn't asked a question. "Haven't you ever heard of legs, Gene? You've got two of them – if you want me to come and drink with you, you'll have to ask me in person."

"I've got three of 'em, Bolly," he muttered, voice thick and drunk. "But the one that's workin' ain't gunna get me up the stairs..." He trailed off, and Alex just about managed to stop herself thinking too long on what exactly he was referring to before she answered, keeping her voice level, although a hint of teasing crept out.

"Well that's just too bad," Alex sighed, grinning to herself. "It's so much more private up here..."

"Get yer arse down 'ere," Gene murmured, sniffing slightly. "Drink's on the bar." He hung up.

Alex waited five minutes, then grabbed her jumper and headed down.


It took Alex half an hour, two whiskeys and half a bottle of wine to catch him up; by the time eleven o'clock came, the pair of them were slumped at the bar like rag dolls.

"Is 'e rich?" Gene slurred, his question totally out of the blue, but needing no explanation as he looked at her questioningly.

"Yes... he's a lawyer," Alex murmured, absently trailing her finger around the rim of her glass, frowning to herself. "A law-yer... Loy-er... lob-!"

"Piss'ead," Gene muttered, reaching for his glass; his aim was off, and he knocked both the glass, and the whiskey it contained, to the floor. "Whoops," he said, glancing down at the floor, then up at Alex. "S'your fault," he claimed bluntly, waving his hand at Luigi and ordering another one.

"My fault?" Alex asked indignantly, pushing herself upright and attempting not to sway in her chair. "You hit it!"

"You didn' catch it," he replied, taking the next drink with care and swallowing it quickly. "Yer should've caught it..."

"You shouldn't have knocked it," Alex murmured, swigging her wine and swiping at her mouth with the back of her hand. Gene didn't reply, and she slouched for a few moments more, her eyes fixed on his face for several seconds before she spoke.

"Do you know why it's called a French kiss, Gene?" She asked suddenly; if Gene had been a little more sober, he might have noticed the fact she was suddenly very close to his face. Instead, the only thing he noticed was the fact that her breasts were suddenly pressed very tightly together, and demanding his immediate attention.

"Why'zat then?" he murmured absently, eyebrows raised as she edged closer, her breasts suddenly even more prominent than before.

"The French are good with their tongues," Alex answered, nodding matter-of-factly, if a little exaggeratedly. She didn't actually know if that were true, of course, but the narrowing of his eyes was well worth the improvisation.

"Bollucks are they," Gene muttered, tilting his head slightly to get a better view down her top; he caught a glimpse of red lace, and his trousers suddenly seemed a great deal tighter.

"Good at cunnilingus, too," Alex murmured; this time, he noticed her moving closer, and he tore his eyes from the delectable sight of her breasts so as to meet her gaze.

He blinked, propping his chin on his hand and glancing briefly back down her top, then up again. "Wassat?" He asked, blinking bleary eyes and wondering if she'd notice if his hand happened to wander into her bra... "Don't speak French, Bolly."

"Oral sex, Gene," she explained drunkenly, edging closer again; his nose was a hairs breadth away from her own, and his eyes drifted unconsciously to her mouth... Her tongue peeked out, wetting her red lips, and then a moment later, she'd kissed him; he briefly considered arguing with the notion that the French were better at oral, but his will was lost, and his hand had already found her waist, sliding up to cup her breast through her top, stroking and teasing as he felt her nipple harden beneath his touch.

Alex leaned into him, her hand on his thigh, mouth open to his plundering tongue; she stumbled against him, blindly groping for his hand, and then she tugged him from his chair.

Several long minutes later, with bleary eyes and an aching erection that refused to go away, he pushed her through the flat door and into the bedroom.


"Won't come off..." Gene muttered, tugging at her jeans to no avail as they tangled around her ankle. Alex giggled, sitting up and flailing her leg in a useless attempt to help; he let out a small grunt, tugged a little harder, and fell off the edge of the bed, eyes blurred through the drunken haze as he landed hard on his back.

He groaned, pushing himself upright with difficulty and attempting to ignore the shrieking laughter that Alex was sending his way; he couldn't. A moment later, his arm was around her waist, and she was on the floor in front of him, naked except for the red lacy knickers that would have matched her bra, had he not snapped it off impatiently minutes earlier.

"You're still dressed," Alex said, blinking stupidly up at him. "And I'm naked..."

He grinned, nodding as he pushed her down, settling between her thighs without a moment's hesitation. "Gotta beat the Frenchie-bent bastard," he muttered, pressing a sloppy kiss to her hip and trailing his mouth to the triangle of hair between her thighs. "Cuntilicious... s'wot you called it..."

"Cunnilingus," Alex murmured, wriggling beneath him and pushing her hips impatiently upwards. "S'ok, though, Gene; you're not French..."

"Mmm..." Gene grunted, groping her arse appreciatively before finding her centre with his mouth. "But when in France," he muttered, "do as the French do..." His tongue slid upwards, working her gently, tasting her arousal and making him groan with explicit delight.

"It's 'when in Rome'..." Alex corrected, shivering. "And we're not in Rome... Not in France, either..."

"You taste French," Gene muttered, nipping at her clit, and then lapping lightly at the liquid evidence of her arousal. "Like Champers... s'all bubbly..." he snorted at his own joke, lips brushing her clit and causing her to whimper quietly. He pinned her down with his arms, pressing his face firmly between her legs and pushing his tongue deep into her once, twice, flicking it over the sensitive bundle of nerves, then pushing deep again...

She was giggling and moaning, whatever words she was attempting to say completely lost in the noises of delight. His fingers stroked down the backs of her thighs, up again over the smooth, warm flesh of her arse, whilst his mouth and tongue explored her centre, nipping, licking, tasting, biting... Her hips bucked, her body trembled, and when she finally came over his tongue she was seeing stars.

Without pause, he kissed up her body, leaving red bite marks on her hip, her breasts, her shoulder and her neck, before catching her mouth with his, tongue fierce and controlling, dominating hers with ease; she trembled beneath him, reaching for his trousers and pushing them down his hips, followed closely by his boxers; she barely had time to think before he was inside her, urging into her with a strength and speed so intense that Alex was clinging onto his back, practically sobbing with pleasure- even through his shirt, the nails that scratched down his back still managed to draw blood.

"S'good Gene," she urged him on, her voice slurred, breathless and hoarse as her hips urged into his own. "S'good! Keep going, Gene! S'big!"

If he'd been sober, he might have made a smug, self-impressed comment; as it was, his newfound ability to touch her breasts was occupying most of his attention, and as she implored him to go deeper and faster, his groans were muffled against her gloriously large tits.

When they finally came together, having left teeth marks on her chest and emptied himself completely into her willing body, it was all Gene could do to drag the duvet from the bed before he fell asleep, still inside her, and still blissfully pissed.


Alex's head was pounding, her tongue cotton-dry, and the only thing she was really aware of was the hard floor beneath her back, and a burning, aching pain that stretched from the backs of her calves up to her shoulders. She went to move, head spinning with the effort, and was surprised to find that she couldn't; it was only then that she became aware of the warm, soft weight of something on top of her, and her eyes flew open instantly.

At first, there was nothing but pain; the bright morning sunlight that shone through the curtains practically blinded her, and it took several blinks before she could see anything other than red spots.

Slowly, however, the rest of the room came into focus, and she turned her head slightly to the side, grunting against the heavy, warm, apparently long body that was now stretched above hers. There was a fleeting moment of panic, her memory failing completely, wondering if she'd somehow wound up in bed with another thatcherite, until she turned... and looked directly into the sleeping face of her snoring DCI.

It all came back in a rush; blasé flirtation on her part, something to do with French tongues, a whole lot of something to do with Gene's tongue, a flurry of overwhelmingly delightful sensation, and the memory of calling out his name as he'd driven her to what was, most probably, the single, most exquisite orgasm of her entire life... And he was still inside her.

She pushed him in the shoulder, biting her lip when he shifted above her, his hips pressing firmer into hers and pushing himself deeper; she bit back a gasp, half-hoping he wouldn't move, half-hoping he'd jump up and get away as soon as possible... A few moments passed, and she shoved him again. "Gene!" She hissed, cringing against the pounding of her skull that trebled as the noise sounded. He grunted, lifting his head from her shoulder and blinking blearily at her.

It took him a few moments of staring, and then Alex saw his eyes widen, his hand flying to his blonde hair and mussing it in a nervous manner. "Bloody 'ell..." he muttered, glancing down at her body and raising his eyebrows; his eyes widened in surprise. Alex frowned, following his gaze and looking down.

"Shit!" She gasped, sitting upright and shoving him unceremoniously off her; he grunted loudly, shifting to the sides as she touched each of the numerous small red marks in turn. "Jesus Christ, Gene! Were you trying to eat me?!"

Gene had the decency to look slightly sheepish, although there was an element of smugness to his grin that made Alex's skin crawl with anger. "Was just enjoyin' myself, Bolly... didn't hear any complaints."

"No complaints?" Alex half-shrieked, leaping to her feet and taking the duvet with her; if Gene noticed that he was naked, exposed and fully-erect under her gaze, he didn't seem to care, simply watching her wrap herself in the duvet with a perplexed grin on his face, even as she continued to rant. "I'm covered in love-bites! I look like a randy teenager who's just-"

"If it's any consolation, you were a lot better than a randy teenager..." He trailed off as she glowered at him, rolling his eyes as she scurried over to the drawer, still huddled in her duvet, even as she drew out a matching set of purple underwear; he felt himself twitch, reaching over to the side and grabbing his boxers from where they lay, tugging them on swiftly. Ignoring the painful carpet burns on his knees, he got up, straightening the shirt that they'd failed to take off and ruffling his hair with a schoolboy grin in Alex's direction.

"You know, I'm meant to be going on a date tonight," Alex went on, shuffling around under the duvet as she pulled her underwear on awkwardly. "I'm meant to be going out with someone, and I'm covered from head to toe in bruises, and love bites, and carpet burns and-!"

"So cancel the date," Gene supplied, pulling on his trousers and rolling his eyes in exasperation. "Tell 'im yer pet frog spouted an extra leg an' he'll have to put off the French kissin' till you've figured out 'ow it got there!"

Alex bristled visibly, an impressive feat given the thick layer of duvet that hid her body from view. "I suppose that would suit you no end, wouldn't it Gene?" She snapped, grabbing a top from the drawer and pulling it swiftly over herself. "Win the bet, get a quick shag from the French blokes' drunken date – I bet you're really proud of yourself, aren't you?"

Gene stared at her, spluttering in disbelief. "You came onto me!" He protested eventually, waving his hand around as though for emphasis. "You started talking about tongues, and oral and cunnipingpus or whatever the hell it was!"

"I was drunk, Gene!" She snapped, dragging on a pair of trousers. "I was utterly, totally drunk and you knew it, and-!"

"And I was sober, was I?" Gene retorted, pulling on his tie and doing it up swiftly. "Jesus Christ Bols, I was pissed as a skunk! I had a hard-on the size of Everest and more whiskey in me than blood, an' you expected me to say no?"

"It wouldn't be the first time!" Alex hissed, grabbing a pair of socks from the top drawer and slamming it shut.

"Yeah, an' look at the bolluckin' I got fer not reamin' yer arse last time! Just be thankful you don't 'ave to shag the bloody French wanker anymore an' move on!" Fuming, he grabbed his shoes and socks, pulling them on and grinding his jaw in frustration as Alex slammed her fist down on the desk of drawers.

"Maybe I wanted to!" She shouted.

"Then go rub up on his beret!" Gene snapped. "I doubt he'll mind too much! Just stop gettin' yerself in a flap! It's like watching a lame chicken have a spaz over an evasive sunflower seed!" He snatched his blazer from off the floor, fleetingly considering how drunk she'd have to be to offer a repeat performance, before grimacing at the sound of her angry, lilting and decidedly unlevel voice.

"I'm not in a flap!" She shrieked. "And I'm not rubbing his 'beret'!" She waggled her fingers, stamping her foot angrily as her face turned red with anger.

"Good!" Gene snapped. "Then go buy yerself a vibrator and some eau de toilette! It's French, sloppy, an' about as reliable as yer average scam artist!" He counted each point off on his fingers, and then waved them in her face as if to make a point. "Not all that rewarding, but it's gotta be better than a shag with that wet blanket poofter!"

Alex bristled, poking him sharply in the chest. "You know, Gene, I must have been really, really drunk, if I allowed such a misogynistic pig to shag me!" She spat the words out, and he glowered darkly, pushing his face to within an inch of hers as he growled out his reply.

"Not drunk enough that you couldn't scream!" He hissed, pressing her against the drawers suddenly. "'S'good, Gene!'" he mimicked, in what he considered a reasonable facsimile of her own voice. "'Harder, Gene! There, Gene!'"

"You utter pig!" She hissed through her teeth, raising her hand as if to slap him. He caught her wrist in his hand, chuckling as he shook his head and leaned forwards to whisper gruffly in her ear.

"I might be a pig, Bolly, but I'm a pig with a big knob- and you liked it!" He pressed closer, breath teasing across her ear. "I just hope your French tosser's little 'beret' is up to the task..." he murmured gruffly, hand gripping her waist softly. "Two orgasms in quick succession, Alex... reckon he can top it?"

"Oh please," Alex sniffed, shoving him off and dragging a large cardigan from the wardrobe. "I was so drunk I'd have thought a burrowing ant was orgasmic!"

Gene drew back, eyes narrowing upon her in annoyance as he jerked his head. "Well if you're lucky his little ant-beret might have a big tongue!" His voice was sharp and harsh, and Alex glowered across at him.

"And if you're lucky, you might still have a bloody 'beret' when you leave, although at this point it's becoming ever-more unlikely!"

Gene scowled, jerking his tie slightly as he ground his teeth at her. "Well at least I've got standards an' don't think about openin' me flaps for any old French bastard!"

"No, you just brandish your 'beret' –" she wiggled her fingers angrily, eyes flashing, "- around like a weapon and think everyone should get down and suck it! Well I'm telling you this Gene, your beret can keep the hell away from my flaps from now on!"

"Oh what a bloody great shame that'll be!" Gene snapped, the vein in his temple jumping angrily. "Ruddy horrible! Right up there with solving world hunger an' shaggin' Brit Ekland! D'you know, i think I might die of loss?"

"You might die of losing something, Gene, but it won't be the shag!"

"No, you're right!" Gene retorted sharply. "It'll probably be from losing a tonne of spunk to a loose floozy like you!"

She slapped him then; he wasn't really surprised, but his cheek stung brutally as he blinked against the pain. Her chest was heaving as she glared at him, and Gene grimaced, tasting blood where he had bitten the inside of his mouth...

She said nothing in apology, and he left without another word, slamming the door as he went.


"Goodbye Alistair," she smiled, turning her face slightly away and allowing him only to brush her cheek with his lips. She felt his sigh of resignation, saw the look of disappointment in his eyes, but ignored them both, her hand on the door as he nodded slowly.

"Goodnight Alex," he said, his voice thick with his French accent. "I hope we will see each other – soon..."

Alex simply smiled, nodding her head, and letting herself in without another word.

The moment she heard his feet descend the stairs, she breathed a sigh of relief, removing the scarf from her neck with an absent groan. She sank onto the sofa, closing her eyes and pressing her hand to her still painful skull; the evening had dragged on for what felt like forever- though Alistair was attractive enough, he'd possessed the sense of humour of an undertaker, and the hobbies of a public schoolboy brought up on a rigid diet of fishing, politics, and law.

Occasionally, he'd made a flirtatious comment that had caused her to smile in indulgence, but frankly, once the main meals were over, she hadn't possessed the heart to wait around for dessert; he drove her home, walked her to the door, and she'd sent him away disappointed... She couldn't really bring herself to feel guilty; he wasn't lecherous, but his presence had made her feel decidedly queasy, and she hadn't missed the slightly worrying glint in his eye when her scarf had loosened and two of her purple love bites had shown prominently, despite the thick layer of concealer she had attempted to cover them up with.

There was a knock at the door, and she stiffened, hoping against hope that he would believe she'd gone to bed, and electing to ignore the insistent pounding, even as it continued on for several minutes. Eventually, just as she was about to absent herself and make her way to the shower, he spoke.

"Bolly, open up yer daft cow, I know you're there!"

She jumped at the familiar voice, her hand automatically flying to her hair as she glanced at the small mirror on the wall, privately scolding herself for the bother, even as she unbuttoned her blouse slightly and ruffled up her hair. She made him wait a few moments, then opened the door, trying her best to appear pissed off and nonchalant, despite the sudden pounding between her legs that told her insistently how very clever it would be to drag him to the floor and ravish him right out of that gorgeous black shirt...

"What d'you want?" She asked, keeping the door half-closed - enough that he could see her cleavage, but not enough that he should feel invited. "I'm getting ready for bed."

She saw his eyebrows rise slightly, and could only imagine the smutty comments racing through his mind, before he spoke, his voice oddly soft. "You owe me a tenner," he muttered, eyes trailing up and down.

"Excuse me?" She asked, laughing. "I don't owe you anything."

"Tenner said you didn't wanna shag him," Gene muttered, leaning against the doorway and feeling his mouth twitch slightly. "An' if the look on old Alistair's face was anything to go by, I'd say you gave him a shifty brush off and no offer of dessert, if you catch my unsavoury drift..." his eyes danced, and she rolled her eyes in disgust.

"I'm not giving you a tenner, Gene," she said, shaking her head. "You don't deserve it..."

"Bet's a bet, Bolly," he murmured, "can't back out on me..."

"Well you bet thirty pounds you'd be under the table staring at my lady-bits," Alex pointed out, smirking. "So I believe you owe me twenty pounds."

"That was only if you weren't wearin' any knickers," Gene answered, meeting her eyes and catching the glint of amusement in their depths; his eyes widened, and he felt himself twitch with arousal. "Bloody hell, Bolly, you didn't?"

"Bet's a bet, Gene..." she licked her lips, leaning back slightly.

"Forty said I disappointed," he argued, moving closer, leaning against the doorframe with his eyebrows raised. "You might've been pissed Bols, but you liked it."

"Fifty said I had to leave my table," Alex retorted, looking smug.

"Still means you owe me forty quid," Gene muttered, stepping slightly nearer and glancing down at her mouth. "How about, I apologise for the 'wasted spunk' comment, you can give me a blowjob, and we'll call it even..." He trailed off, lilting suggestively as he licked at his lips.

Alex laughed, shaking her head. "I am not sucking you off to pay for a bet! I'm perfectly capable of paying it if I need to!"

Gene nodded slowly, glancing over his shoulder briefly before leaning forwards. "Sorry," he muttered suddenly, not referring to her previous answer, and staring at the door as he spoke. "'bout the whole... y'know... the biting, an' spunk, an' beret... I erm - I should've buggered off earlier on - been responsible, dumped you in bed an' had a toss off in the shower at 'ome..." he licked his lips, hesitated, then stood up straight. "I'll see you at work," he muttered, moving to leave.

Alex touched his arm lightly, tugging on his shirt sleeve and biting her lip nervously. "I'm sorry too," she whispered. "About yelling... and coming on to you, and behaving like a floozy, and insulting your performance..."

She trailed off, and Gene watched her for several moments before gulping hard, nodding. "Yeah," he murmured, shrugging. "Well... we were both – y'know... pissed. Nobody's perfect..." He waited a few moments, watching as she nodded in slow agreement, before standing straight. "Right," he said, gulping, "well... erm... goodnight..."

Alex blinked in surprise, watching as he reached the top of the stairs and made to move down them. She spoke without thinking, opening the door wider as she did so. "I'm wearing French knickers," she said, wetting her lips nervously. "You could come and see..."

Gene's head snapped round, his eyes wide, gaze falling on her hips for a few seconds before he wet his lips. "I thought you weren't wearing any knickers at all," he said, gulping as he rubbed at his sideburns nervously.

Alex smiled sheepishly, watching as his gaze slid over her body like water; she shivered, and a moment later Gene was in front of her, one hand on her hips, mouth an inch from hers, whilst his spare hand pushed swiftly up her black skirt, pushing aside the wispy fabric as he guided her back into the flat, fingers working her swiftly. "Guess you owe me sixty quid then," he murmured, licking his lips. "Or there's always a blowjob..." he kicked the door shut behind him, eyes glinting wickedly as he stroked her clit firmly.

"Blowjob sounds nice..." Alex murmured, flicking her tongue against his lips. "Sixty's just over my limit, anyway..."

"I could give you a discount," Gene murmured, lips falling to her neck.

"Oh no," Alex replied breathlessly, "I like to pay my dues..."

"Good girl," he grunted appreciatively, easing off her dress. "Are you French?"

"Definitely not," Alex grinned, unfastening his belt and pushing trousers and boxers to the floor. "I'm just good with my tongue..." Her eyes filled with promise, and Gene let out a soft whimper as she fell to her knees, unfastening her own bra and kneeling before him in only her knickers.

"Bonjour," she whispered to the straining length of him, licking her lips. Gene chuckled briefly, before his laughter was lost in a gasp and her hot mouth closed around him.

"Très bien!" He grunted, voice breathless. Alex laughed up at him, and he lost himself in her without another doubt.


Plotless, meaningless, stupid smutty stuff... with not actually a lot of smut.

Ahh well, Vim/Hollie – I got it into the fic for you – Hurrah! Now I'm going to bed, because I'm shattered :P

Mage of the Heart