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The first time Gene Hunt kissed Sam Tyler, he knew he had a problem.
Not the kissing, which was the best thing that had happened to him in ages - the fact that he didn't do it very good and had absolutely no fucking idea what to do next.
With a woman, he woulda had a fairly good idea: get some booze into her, take her for dinner, take her home when she was feelin' good and relaxed, play some music, give her a bit more drink and, if all worked out, into bed and happily doin' the horizontal tango.
At least, that was the theory, according to squad room gossip. Since he hadn't slept with any woman but his wife for twenty years, and very few before that, Gene's depth of experience in the whole sex thing was a bit limited. And the sex thing with men was a total zero, experience wise.
Other than the fact that it apparently involved poking your willy into another fella's arse - which excited him not at all - Gene just didn't know what was expected of one with the whole man/man thing.
It was a bit daunting, and the equal lack of expertise shown by Tyler in the kissing had him thinking Sammy was just as new to it. While it was nice to know his potential lover wasn't promiscuous, it wasn't helping to sort out what to do if it ever came time to consider intimacy. The idea of being intimate with Sam was exciting, he couldn't deny that. What worried him was the steps between kissing (A) and sex of some sort (Z).
With the determination of a desperate man, Gene went in search of the necessary expertise.
"You! Yes you, yer pansy! Cmere!"
The male prossie glared at him from the footpath. "I haven't done nothin' wrong, yer bloody copper mongrel. Nothin' illegal 'bout standin' waitin' for the bus!"
"Yeah, right, and the nearest bus stop is half a mile away. Pull the other one, it does the tango! Get over here before I get outta me car and disable your digit!"
The prossie scowled and walked across the street towards Gene's Ford. "Fine, arrest me then. Haven't you got some bank robbers t'catch or somethin'?"
"I'm not arrestin' ya, ya idiot. Get in the car."
The scowl changed to surprise, then a knowing grin. "Ooooh. I get it. Why didn't ya say so, officer?" He sauntered around to the passenger side, climbed in and smiled. "Now, let's check out yer equipment," and before Gene could do more than gawk, the prossie had undid Gene's fly and shoved his hand into the DCI's trousers.
"Fuck! Stop that, yer pervert!" He reefed the prossie's hand away and slapped him. "I wanna talk to yer, not get manhandled. Now sit there and behave or I'll knock you into next Tuesday. I said I wanted t'talk."
The prossie shrugged and looked disinterested. "Talk then, but I charge by the minute whether we're talkin' or screwin'."
"Disgusting! Fine. Thing is, I need some information. And if you so much as breathe what I'm about to say, you'll experience a whole new world of pain as I rip ya an extra orifice - get it?"
"Sure, got it. So, wotcha want then?"
Gene thought I must be crazy, but what the hell… Say some fella met another fella - hypothetical, mind - and neither fella had any experience of the whole male and male thing - what are the options?"
"Options?" The prostitute looked confused. "What options?"
"I mean, what can they do?"
"What can they do?"
"Will you stop repeating what I say and just answer the bloody question!?"
The fella looked puzzled and scratched his chin. "So you're askin' me what you can do with a fella?"
"I didn't say me!"
"Yeah, right. This hypothetical fella then. What you can do with each other depends on what you want to do with each other. But kissing is a good place to start. Oh, by the way," the prossie said, half turning towards Gene, "if we're having a conversation, we should have names. I'm Max. What's your name?"
"Fred. Smith."
Max snorted. "Fifth Fred Smith I've met this week, you people are everywhere. Okay Fred. As I say, in my line o'work we don't kiss much, but lovers generally do. So has your Mister Hypothetical kissed his light o'love yet?"
"Yeah. It didn't go to well. I..he bit the other bloke's lip and there was a bit o'teeth clashing."
"Sounds about right. Well, you need to learn about the difference between kissing and consuming. Let me show you…"
Gene held up a hand as Max loomed nearer. "No you don't! Let's keep it to theory."
Max sighed heavily. "Hard to do. Alright then. When you kiss - I mean, when he kisses, he should do it slowly. Just a touch of the lips first, a touch of tongue, gentle like. Pretend his mouth is fragile, he can break if you press too hard. And put your hand - that is, get him to put his hand at the back of his lover's head. Has this other guy got long hair?"
"No. Cut short, looks like a bloody marine or something'."
"Hmm, sexy. Well, it is! He should put his hand behind the fella's head, swirl his fingers like in a massage. Remember, touch is the big thing. It's all about touch."
Gene made mental notes. Gentle. Touch. Fragile. "Okay, but what about the…you know…other stuff."
"Right. Has Mister Hypothetical ever had a blow job, or given one?"
"Not bloody likely!"
"Dunno what he's missed then. Having a fella suck on your cock is one of the choicest things on the planet. If this mystery man wants to give his man pleasure, then suck it in, but watch the teeth. Lick and suck and just pull back when he's about to come." Max watched Gene thoughtfully. "You really need to experience it to understand how good it is. "
"I know winnin' the lottery would be grand without actually getting' the money, so let's leave it at that. What else can he do then?"
"Just about anything, like I said. Nipple play with fingers and teeth, hand manipulation of the cock and balls, rimming…"
"Rimming?"
"Yeah. You suck and lick the fella's arsehole, put your tongue in…"
"Okay, that's it. You're pullin' my leg! No-one would do that!"
"Oh yes they would. It's fuckin' brilliant, done right. Think about it…someone suckin' the opening back there, licking you, pushing a tongue inside all warm and wet…"
Gene made a gargling sound and Max stopped. "Well, you get the idea. And you can use a finger or a dildo as well as the obvious. And if you get really good and stretched, even a whole hand…"
Gene shot upright and grabbed a five quid note out of his pocket. "Right, that's all! I think we've talked long enough. Take this, get out, and ferget you ever saw me."
Max took the money and grinned. "Thanks, Mr Smith. And I hope your hypothetical friend has a lovely time. Need anymore information, feel free to contact me at my office. Oh, " he said, as he opened the door, "and have him buy some Vaseline. Think slick, that's my motto!"
Gene drove off, with images of Vaseline-slick fingers doing improbable things to his nether regions, or possibly a tongue, though he couldn't stretch his imagination to a hand. Yet. But he suspected he'd need to do more research, because they hadn't even got to the whole dick-and-arse scenario…