Fantasies of a Fictional Man by DD Agent
Disclaimer: I do not own Ashes to Ashes or any of its characters, or its settings.
Spoilers: All of Life on Mars, and 1.01 of Ashes
Notes: I was thinking about Alex pre-series, and came up with this fic, with Alex going over her notes that Sam gave her and thinking about the Guv. Hope you enjoy!
She shouldn't be doing this. Molly was asleep a few rooms away, she should be getting to sleep too. Not listening to Sam Tyler's tapes and closing her eyes. Not looking at the files he had sent over and going through them, feeling herself blush as she looked at the drawings a sketch artist had done to accompany them. She shouldn't be feeling a growing pulse between her legs, desperate to be satisfied.
Sam Tyler was attractive, he had a nice voice but he was a patient and not Alex's type at all. No, she was fantasising about something much worse, an imaginary construct. She felt ashamed and embarrassed; she had dealt with colleagues with trauma before and had never had a reaction like this. But then again she had never met a patient quite like Sam Tyler and the world that he had created in his head.
Gene bloody Hunt.
He had talked about the brutish DCI. The un-PC, sexist, racist, rude and generally bastard of a man that had been part of Sam's fantasies. Initially she had hated him, thought him to be another boorish product of a world she and the force had outgrown. But as Sam started to talk favourably about him, her opinion changed a little. She didn't exactly like the fictional DCI, but he was less of a bastard in her mind.
Then Sam had started to describe him, and she was lost. He'd even sent some sketch artist portraits up with his tapes, something she had suggested over the phone when he had called. Looking at the pictures, Gene Hunt was handsome, older than her but still very handsome. She could see why Sam chuckled over his 'sexual prowess', a man wouldn't see it but a woman definitely would. A man like Gene Hunt would be on the surface another brute, a man most women would reject and yet a great amount of them would do anything to have his attention.
He described the world he had inhabited in such detail, including the people around him. He described Gene's build, hair and eyes, the line of his jaw that could break out into a smile or a fierce roar, as loud as any lions. He did the same for Skelton and Carling, but not in as much detail. The only one he had gone into more depth about, describing the light in her hair, the little smiles she had, was Annie Cartwright. You could tell a lot from someone's tone and how they describe a person: Alex hadn't needed Sam's words to tell her how much he had cared about her.
It was getting late. She was supposed to go in and do a profile on a case her DCI was working on, and then come back home to work on the book some more. She needed sleep otherwise she would be useless tomorrow. With the book, Alex had decided to do a preface explaining Sam Tyler's situation and what happened to him in the real world. Then she would cover each player in turn, and what his mind created for him to help bring him back to the world of the living. It would be a fascinating look at what happens to someone's head when they undergo trauma, and how the brain copes and repairs itself.
Alex mused that the reason why she was thinking way too much, staying up way too late was because she was working on the Gene Hunt chapter. Describing him, describing the background he had that Sam knew about…she felt like she knew each of these people as if they could be friends. Gene Hunt was an intoxicating man, and trying to put down on paper what Sam had told him was a hard task. She could see Gene Hunt in her mind's eye, she could see him at the pub with Sam, and it gave her a smile, however briefly.
"You need to concentrate on the real, Alex," she whispered to the air and moved away from her laptop, deciding to get ready for bed.
Everything got put on her desk, and Alex changed into pyjamas and crawled in between the sheets. She had been working on the Gene Hunt chapter for three days now, and every day she was working on the book less and less, returning to the tapes once again to hear Sam's words. She knew that through his actions Hunt would come off as a dinosaur copper, thankfully buried in time and lost to the need for change. She owed it to Sam's memory to keep his thoughts intact, and no one could miss the warmth in his voice as he talked about Gene Hunt, the Guv. How throughout all, he came through. How despite their problems he was more right than wrong.
Sighing to herself, Alex thought more about Gene and the ache between her legs grew. Her hand moved over her chest to cup a breast, stroking the nipple slowly before pinching it, gasping at the sensation. She was attracted to good boys, lawyers and police officers and bankers who knew which wine went with what meal and liked a good play rather than a match on the television. And yet here was this man, this figment so real to Sam that he could almost be considered a real person. The complete opposite of everything she stood for as a woman, everything she stood for as a police officer and everything she wanted in a lover. But, her body and most certainly her mind didn't seem to understand that, and continued to lust after him.
One thing Sam had mentioned about Gene was his hands, how sometimes he wore black, leather gloves. Alex thought about those gloves crawling up her thighs and onto her breasts, massaging them with a hint of roughness. Alex arched her back as she thought about those hands over her, touching her, pulling at her clothes. It wasn't long before Alex could feel the warmth between her legs become almost white hot, and she slid a hand under the waistband of her pyjama bottoms and parted her folds, touching herself.
He would take her hard, Alex believed. He wasn't one for wasting time; he probably wasn't one for going down on a woman. But he would push his fingers inside her, and as Alex moved her own fingers inside, she imagined them to be his. She writhed under her sheets, circling her clit with her fingers and pretending them to be his. She imagined him ripping her clothes off of her, touching her and pressing against her. Alex thought he would be rough, pinch her nipples and bite on her neck and her touch grew in intensity.
Sam had never described how Gene spoke, apart from it being a Manchester accent. So she imagined that, tinged with a rich roughness that made her shiver. She imagined him whispering in her ear all the dirty things he would do to her, all the things a seventies man would want to do to her. She was building to a crescendo, and as she stuck another finger inside her, curling at the tip she imagined his hard cock pushing inside her, filling her up. It wasn't long before, with her fantasy overwhelming her senses, that she came hard against the sheets, muffling her need to scream so she didn't disturb Molly.
Tired and sated, Alex collapsed against her bed and found that she was finally sleepy. Maybe when the chapter was over, when the book was over, she would stop thinking and fantasising about Gene Hunt. It was a futile hope, but something she clung onto. That she would move onto something just as interesting and concentrate on that. She hoped that after the book was done, and Sam's legacy was completed that she would stop raising her head every time she saw a dark blonde man walk past, or heard a Manchester accent call out in the street.
Alex fell asleep, dreaming of Manchester streets and gloved men with camel coats.