Bodie's Christmas Wish


The light coming through the bedroom window slowly woke Bodie. This time of year, he wasn't accustomed to seeing the sun before he set off for work, but for once, he had Christmas off. Christmas?

With a start, he cast off the last dredges of sleep along with the warmth of the duvet. It was Christmas morning. His heart began to pound as he got out of bed, then pulled on his robe. Christmas morning -- the morning all good boys found Santa's gifts beneath the tree. As far as he was concerned, Bodie had been a very good boy, and he had only asked for one thing.

He started toward his bedroom door, but stopped just short of opening it. On the other side of that door was an enormous Christmas tree. His partner had teased him for weeks about how the tree dwarfed the front room, but Bodie had pain stakingly decorated it, repeating his Christmas wish with every ornament and light he'd placed. Could he bear it, if nothing waited for him beneath the tree?

He'd never had much use for religion, but Bodie believed in Santa Claus. Believed in him with all his heart and soul. And each year, no matter where he was, there had always been one Christmas gift to him that he could never account for in any other way than a gift from one jolly old elf. But this year he had not asked for a 'thing.' And he didn't know if Santa could deliver anything else.

He rested his hand against the door, and though it was too late, he wished one last time. Then, taking a deep breath, he opened the door, went up a short hallway and stepped into his front room. A soft cry, almost a sob of relief, escaped his lips, and he sank down onto the floor because his knees were suddenly too weak to hold him up.

"Ray," he whispered, grinning from ear to ear as he stared at the bundle beneath his tree. All wrapped up in a duvet, sleeping away like some hibernating mouse and just about as furry, was Raymond Doyle.

For a long time Bodie stared at his partner -- the man he loved with all his heart and soul. That heart so full of love for Doyle was pounding away as if it would burst, and he marveled that Doyle could sleep through the noise of it. To his chagrin, he realized it wasn't lust that had sent his pulse racing, but fear. Fear that this was all a dream, fear that if it wasn't, he'd do or say the wrong thing and lose what he already had -- the best mate and partner any man could ask for. He'd thought he'd come to terms with all of that before he'd made his Christmas wish, but now, when he was so close to having it all, he felt almost paralyzed with fear.

A lot of good it does you to have second thoughts now, my son. As far as Bodie knew, Santa Claus did not accept returns. He took a deep breath to steady himself, then slowly crawled over to where Doyle slept.

He stretched out on the floor so his body was just a few inches from Doyle's, then considered the problem of exactly how to wake his pressie up. Doyle might be the love of Bodie's life, but he was still a rat-tempered little golli whose disposition was never at it's best first thing in the morning.

Somehow just shaking him awake didn't seem appropriate, but kissing him was liable to get Bodie punched before Doyle figured out who was kissing him. Of course, he still might get punched when Doyle did figure it out. In the end, he reached out and gently stroked a finger across Doyle's broken cheekbone as he softly whispered, "Ray, it's time to wake up, sunshine."

For a moment, nothing happened, then Doyle stirred, uncurling his body and rolling over onto his back. Bodie scooted closer and shifted up onto his elbow so he could look down at the ugly/gorgeous face he never tired of. "Ray, it's Christmas. Wake up," he said with a second caress.

To his delight, Doyle's head tilted into the touch, then sleep heavy green eyes opened with a murmured, "Bodie." For a second he could see dreams still floating in those cat-like eyes, then they focused on him. "Bodie?" Doyle asked. "How'd you get into my flat?"

Bodie smiled at him. "Not in your flat, angelfish. In mine."

"Yours?" Doyle frowned and glanced around. "I don't remember getting squiffy last night."

"Didn't as far as I know."

"Then how did I get here without knowin' about it?"

Oh, Ray was gonna love this. "Santa brought you."

Doyle gave him a look that said it was far too early for such nonsense. "Very funny."

"'s true. After all the villains I caught this year, Santa thought I deserved the pressie I wanted."

Now Doyle just looked confused. "What pressie?"

Bodie swallowed hard, then plunged into it, "Man I love, warm and willing under my Christmas tree."

Doyle's expression gave nothing away as he took in that bit of information. "'s that what I am? The man you love?" he asked in the same matter-of-fact tone he used to ask about the football scores.

Not finding that too encouraging, Bodie couldn't quite find his voice, so he just nodded.

"Hmm, nice coincidence that," Doyle said, then smiled. "I mean, seein' as you're the bloke I love."

Bodie all but collapsed against Doyle, burying his face against the other man's neck. "Christ, Ray, I was so scared," he all but whimpered, his body trembling hard enough to shake both of them.

"Shhh, Bodie love, it's all right," Doyle soothed him, his arms going around Bodie to hold him.

If there was a heaven, Bodie decided it would be hard pressed to match the paradise of Doyle's embrace. So warm and strong -- it made Bodie feel all safe and loved. Then Doyle's lips began to nuzzle him, and he felt certain he must have died and made that trip to the other side of the pearly gates after all. One of Doyle's hands chose that moment to shift lower, giving Bodie's arse a squeeze.

He gasped, arching against the other man, his attentions focusing on delights of a more earthly nature. He fought for words, but before he could find any, Doyle's other hand cupped the back of his head and pulled him into a deep kiss. Helpless against the onslaught of a whirlwind known as Ray Doyle, he moaned around the tongue ravishing his mouth and allowed hands to push him over onto his back, then all but rip his robe open.

The heat and weight of Doyle's body pressed down on him, their groins meeting in a press of sweat and precum, then his lover began to thrust. Having spent the last few years in a state of near arousal whenever he was with Doyle, it didn't surprise Bodie when he came after only a few strokes, crying out his release with an abandoned joy that wouldn't endear him to his neighbors. Abrupt release might have given way to embarrassment, but before he could recover, he felt Doyle's seed spill over his belly. Pleased that his lover had an equal lack of control, Bodie shamelessly cuddled the body that slumped against him. "I love you, Ray," he whispered into the ear nearest his lips.

"Love you, too," came the muffled reply from somewhere around his left shoulder.

Certain now that he knew the answer, but needing to hear it, he asked, "Is it just the two of us from now on, Ray?"

Doyle gave him a hard hug, then rose up on his elbows. "Prat," he said, his eyes sparkling with obvious affection, "you even think of cheating on me and I shall have your balls for breakfast."

Bodie thought perhaps that the threat of being gelded shouldn't please him so much, but he felt so happy he was light-headed. Then Doyle frowned. "What is it, Ray?"

"Bodie, just how DID I get under your tree?"

-- THE END --

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