The day's alternating anticipation and trepidation had compressed Ray Doyle's nerves into a band of tightness around his chest and an ache in his legs not unlike arousal. Although he knew movement would help his condition, he remained in his car, fingers tapping the steering wheel in a ragged rhythm. His eyes focused on the door he blamed for his ambivalence. He wanted to go through the door, be absorbed into the gathering of men he knew was there. If he were successful, would he become someone new? Would a new lifestyle destroy the parts of his life most important to him?

Doyle had to know one way or the other and he knew he couldn't go back. The warmth and clarity of the spring evening unfelt and unseen, he left the car, tentatively walked to the entrance of the private club, and opened the door. He barely noticed the doorman, showing his membership card without thinking.

He slowed upon entering the bar and allowed the smoke and the murmur of low voices to envelop him. The club looked like any other in the city, scarred wooden bar counter behind which bottles of liquor winked in reflected mirror light, padded seats on wooden stools worn with years of shuffling bodies. The bartender, however, did not conform. The leather harness strapped across his naked chest, the black leather chaps, the thick genitals framed by the black jockstrap, were not the kit of the average London barkeep. His self assurance reflected the attitude of the patrons. There was hardly a man there not decked out in some sort of leather or denim. Their flirting was a wholly masculine game.

Doyle walked slowly along the wall paralleling the bar until he reached the club's main room. He turned to the bar, ordered a pint, and found a stool to lean on. Disco music filtered from the dance area at the opposite end of the room. The music was not blaring as in the dance clubs. Another hint that men came here for more than dancing. As he watched the few couples on the dance floor through the low lighting, he recalled his struggle to achieve comfort in this environment.

Initially public admittance of his homosexuality was too new and sudden for him. The first few times he'd gone to a gay bar he'd managed only a quick half pint before scurrying back home. He'd watched the men dancing in pairs as he had sat at the bar, never venturing into the ranks of those being asked to dance. One day he had strolled into the crowd and impulsively accepted an offer to dance. At first gawky and self-conscious, each time he went to a bar he had danced more, until the night when he hadn't stopped until closing.

He smiled as he remembered the morning after that night when he had ventured into a shop selling gay jewelry and books. There he had found a gold piece consisting of two "male" symbols, the arrow rising off-center from the circle. He'd seen jewelry with the two emblems intertwined side by side before, but he'd never seen them joined this way. The arrow of one symbol was embedded in the circle of the other. Both arrows were slightly rounded, increasing the phallic resemblance. He was drawn to the image instinctively, and upon closer examination was delighted to find fine craftsmanship and design when he'd expected crudity.

Of its own volition, his hand circled the charm on his neck chain, long fingers gently caressing it. He smiled inwardly when he noticed what he was doing. He often wore the chain alone but this was the first time it bore the weight of the charm. This piece of jewelry represented a year's journey he'd taken inside himself, where he found and accepted basic personal truths and realized he had to act on them. He'd repressed his innate sexual interest in men since childhood, yielding to society's disapproval as the only way to endure a hostile world. The Met was the ultimate reflection of this constraint, so Doyle's behavior was impeccable during his years there. However, when he moved to CI5, where initiative was praised and rules regularly broken, he slowly shed the built-up layers of inhibition.

This lowering of barriers was what led to those initial visits to the gay bars and to the dancing, and then beyond the dancing to a few secret, but fondly remembered, one-night stands. CI5's effect on him, however, had not been as strong as that of his partner, Bodie. The immediate attraction he'd felt towards the man had waned during their first year partnered; their personalities clashed and they had contrary opinions about everything. It took a long time for the antipathy to abate, but after getting to know each other and recognizing each other's strengths, they began functioning as a team.

Doyle's recent acceptance of his true sexual nature and the resurfacing of his attraction to Bodie pushed him beyond a barrier he'd never before crossed. He fell in love with his partner.

It was not the momentous event he'd always hoped it would be. At no time did he ever think Bodie would return his affection. So instead, he allowed it to serve as a catalyst for change--if he couldn't have the one he loved, he would explore his true sexual nature. His past stood empty; his present lay unfulfilled--he would form a future which, if not perfect, would still be as pleasing as possible.

And his pleasures, it seemed, leaned towards the unusual. Most of his one-night stands had been standard fare, but recently there had been one bed mate who had unexpectedly taken Ray to the edge of submission, unearthing a tantalizing, hidden desire. Now, with his growing determination to explore and be honest with himself, Doyle knew he had to pursue this strange need fully. Thus, his visit to this private leather club. He considered it research--an opportunity to observe the intriguing new sexual activity which that knowledgeable bed mate had revealed to him. It was another step in his journey of self-discovery, a bold and thrilling one. Accordingly, he had basked in the preparation for this evening. He had started the night early, taking his time dressing, choosing clothes that felt comfortable and complemented his style. The result was skin-tight black leather trousers, black leather boots, and a low-necked sleeveless tee shirt made from sheer white silk. And, of course, the chain and its emblem.

There was satisfaction and longing in his sigh as he returned to the present. Lager in hand, he turned to face the dance room and swayed slightly to the beat of the music. It would help relax him to dance a little. It didn't take long--a large handsome man was steadily heading toward him. The stranger stepped close, brushing against Ray's hip, and flashed an inviting smile. "I'm Jack. Want to spend time bein' chatted up, or d'you want to dance?"

The approach was novel enough to elicit an answering smile. There was something a little familiar about this Jack.

"I'll take the dance."

Jack guided him to the small dance floor where they merged with the other leisurely swaying bodies. Large warm hands fit around Doyle's hips, gathering him into a loose embrace. Jack softly commented on the music, sparking the connection to what had seemed familiar. His accent was Liverpool, the same one Bodie tried to hide. He swallowed hard at the thought of his partner and friend. He shouldn't be surprised that Bodie would creep into his mind while he was here, even though he had sternly told himself he wouldn't allow it. Any time he was reminded of sex and Bodie in the same thought, he drifted into exquisite reveries of his partner and himself, naked and aroused, holding each other tightly, kissing deeply. He paid for these daydreams with a round of depression. No, that wasn't going to happen tonight. He forced himself to concentrate on who he was with and draped his arms over Jack's shoulders. Gradually the unwelcome thoughts of Bodie faded as they moved languidly together, Ray focusing on the still-new thrill of being held in another bloke's arms in public.

After a second dance Ray excused himself. "I've really enjoyed myself. Thanks."

"Where are you going?"

"Let's just say I have a short attention span."

"Now that's a shame. Maybe later?" he asked hopefully.

Doyle laughed. "We'll see."

They parted amicably at the bar, another man approaching Ray as soon as Jack turned away. Doyle danced and drank with a steady stream of men. He enjoyed each encounter, but soon he was anxious to take the next step in the night's agenda.

He approached the other door leading from the room, the door he'd seen numerous horny-looking men pass through all evening. Ignoring the sweat gathering on his palms, he opened the door and entered the darkened hallway. He waited for his eyes to adjust to the dimness. Eventually the dark moving shapes grew details--mouths kissing and sucking, leather straps confining broad chests, genitals exposed and thrusting. The essence of raw sex, male musk, and spilled semen captured him. Primal moans ensnared him, luring him toward the room at the end of the wide hallway. Some of the couples lining the walls of the hallway were kissing and grinding their groins together. A few men leant back against the wall, their partners kneeling before them, mouths slurping at cocks or testicles. Other men stood alone, masturbating in time to the pulse of other men's sex. He continued toward the room. His skin prickled as though grazed by a hundred fingertips and a bead of sweat tricked down the cleft between his buttocks. As he entered the main room, the man to his left captured his attention. His bearing showed him as military, as did his shorn hair. He stood at strict parade rest, unmoving despite his labored breath, ecstasy and discomfort flitting over his face. Behind the soldier stood his commander, thrusting ruthless fingers in and out of the straining man's anus. Suddenly the soldier's breath caught in his throat and semen poured out of his untouched prick. The commander stroked his soldier's chest, his fingers still rooted up the boy's arse. Upon hearing his commander tell him what a good soldier he'd been, the boy's eyes closed and his face showed his happiness.

Doyle had never seen anything like this before. He had no idea someone could come without moving a muscle. He'd always luxuriated in his body's sensations and enjoyed vocalizing his pleasure. The soldier must be utterly devoted to his commander. He hoped he could serve someone as well someday, even if differently.

He continued around the periphery of the room, glancing at the odd blow job being given, staring at some of the more exotically tied up men. Several harnesses in a row hung from sturdy fastenings in the ceiling. A man was constrained in each, their wrists and ankles strapped with broad leather bands. He couldn't have told from only their groans and whimpers whether they were being whipped or fucked. His cock hardened a little more as he speculated what it would feel like being publicly manacled. This was a little too much for him at this stage.

Emerging from around a confusing tangle of bodies on a large, rubber-sheeted mattress, Doyle confronted a scene that he'd waited all his life to witness. He absorbed it instantly; it was direct from his fantasies. His cock responded, hardening fully.

A slim, young blond man leaned forward, both arms stiff, both hands clutching the wall. His legs were spread painfully wide. He wore only heavy boots and a leather vest tied tightly around his torso. A slightly older, muscular man stood to his side. He wore leather gloves and chaps, the accompanying codpiece strewn on the floor, allowing his balls and thick cock to hang free from constraint. A bushy growth of pubic hair surrounded the thick genitals.

Doyle had always dreamed Bodie, his perfect master, would wear chaps like this man, flaunting his genitals, daring him with the possibility that he might be allowed to taste them, if Doyle pleased him enough. This master was skilled with the paddle he held in his hand, something Ray, too, wished for. There were so many possible ways of preparing the slave to receive the gift of his master's seed, but this was one of the best. He unconsciously licked his lips as his eyes grazed over the slave's scarlet arse cheeks as they quivered with each blow. Ray's fingers longed to feel the smooth skin and absorb the heat pouring from those exquisite mounds. His own cock was hard and throbbing; he exulted in the pull of his nipples as they peaked. The blond's grunts and whimpers punctuated the rhythm of the beating. Ray was inside the beat, puffs of sound whispering from his mouth. The beating was suspended as the master examined the result of his work, his hands caressing the slender thighs and roving upwards to squeeze and pinch the bright cheeks. His hand delved between the outspread legs and grabbed the ball sac, relentlessly pulling it down. The whimpers became cries of excruciating pleasure. He again stood back and delivered six more exactly placed strokes, then jerked the blond around to face him. Ray flinched as though he'd been pulled. The muscular man pushed the boy to his knees and drove his cock down his already open and waiting throat. Ray's balls contracted at the look of adoration and reverence washing over the young man's face as he was rewarded with his lover's cock.

Ray was drawn deeper into the scene the longer he watched. At the time of this supreme moment of surrender, he was absorbed to the point where no thoughts restrained his instincts. His bare knees ground into the hard floor, his naked bum burned from the lashings, his penis was stiff and aching with desire and love. And it was Bodie who stood above him, lovingly watching Doyle receive his huge prick.

His balls gave a warning throb. Without thought he pulled down his flies and freed his cock. His right hand rubbed the foreskin off the head of his cock, and his left rhythmically pushed his balls against his body. He was transfixed by the love and pride in the blond's face as he took his master's seed into himself. As Ray inhaled deeply, smelling the tangy aroma of Bodie's groin and feeling the pulse of his ejaculation on the back of his throat, his cock spurted ecstasy in a wide arc. His lush groan joined the master's.

While the master held the slave's head to his groin as he recovered from his climax, Ray wished it was his mouth servicing Bodie, his tongue cushioning Bodie's softening cock. Ray's eyes focused on the couple in front of him as the master released the boy's head and pulled him to his feet. He grabbed the boy's weeping cock and stroked it only enough to allow him to ejaculate.

The end of the scene, signaled by the slave's climax, released Doyle from the spell. Still weak from the power of his release, he tucked himself into his trousers. He hadn't come that strongly in ages. If fantasy was this good, the real thing might kill him. He should die so happy.

As cold as ice water, the thought washed over him. You just wanked off in a public place to a fantasy starring your partner and closest friend. He doesn't even know you're queer, not to mention that you fancy him. You're just using him to get your jollies. This is the bloke you need to be the most honest with and here you are abusing his friendship and trust. How could he lose control like this? He stumbled to a nearby wall, leaned against it gratefully, shivering as though from the cold, thoughts flying through his head. Public wanking--Christ--being caught, even in a private club, would cost him his career and the respect of everyone he cared about.

Although his thoughts were arctic, his body was dripping with sweat. His shirt clung to him and his legs were clammy under the tight leather. The room had been warm upon his arrival, but its increased heat now threatened to suffocate him. The heavy, cloying air pressed his clothes against his body. Although he wanted to run to the door, his pace was slow as he wound his way through the press of bodies. In the hallway again he paused to gather his wits, his brain working double time.

In all his contemplation, he'd avoided the idea of coming out to Bodie; it was just too big a move to deal with. After this, however, he'd have to figure when and how to do it. For their relationship to work and to mean anything, it had to include the honesty of his sexual orientation. He knew from this past year that keeping it a secret would erode his self-respect. He wasn't at all sure that he could meet or win the challenge looming before him--come out to his partner but not reveal his true feelings toward him. He pushed this bulky topic to the back of his mind; he'd climb that mountain after he worked through what he'd done tonight. As always, he was paying for using his partner in his head; it had felt so good, now he felt so low. Bloody hell.

His temples began to ache. He left the back room and hallway behind him. Carefully controlling his emotions, he strolled to the bar. An intense thirst nagged at him, so he ordered a pint and drank almost all of it in one swallow. Jack approached from further down the bar and gave him the once over. "You're a great dancer, boy--want a go again?" His leer suggested it could be more than dancing.

"Ta, but no, I gotta be getting home." He started to push himself away from the bar.

Jack put a hand around Ray's wrist. "I saw you back there." He nodded toward the back room. "You want to do more than watch?"

Doyle's pulse leapt, a faint echo of his recent orgasm. Yeah, he wanted to do more than watch, but Jack was not who he wanted to do it with. He raised an eyebrow and waited.

"Just wanted you to know I can do as good as they can." He brushed the back of his hand over Ray's crotch.

"I'll bet you can, mate, but no, I go home alone."

"I thought you were too good to be true. You change your mind and come back, I might just still be here."

"Yeh, maybe. G'night." He walked purposefully to the front door and was gone.

---

Funny how his pace to the car was so much faster than his hesitant stride in the reverse direction just hours earlier. He'd been so anxious for this night. Now all he wanted was to get home, get undressed and cool down, and put the night behind him until he could look at it more objectively.

The routine of driving calmed him, and he opened the car window, the clear, warm air fanning over his sweaty skin. To restrain his thoughts, he revisited the precepts taught in the martial arts. You never won all your fights. Sometimes you had to lose. Similarly, tonight's experience would work out one way or the other. You accepted the bad alongside the good. He was reminded of this too many times through his work. Thus musing he parked his car, walked to his flat, and let himself in.

---

"Bodie, what are you doing here?" Doyle's voice rose in panic. He had been heading toward the bedroom when he found his partner reclining on his sofa, reading a book.

"Eh? What do you mean? My water's off, remember? I asked you if I could stay here, and you said okay."

"Oh. Yeah. Well, that's all right. Uh, I'll be right back." Why did Bodie have to be here now? Oh, he looked adorable reading so intently. And for once his always-covered partner was wearing a button-down shirt--with two buttons undone. Just a peek at that muscular chest was close to his undoing. The lust he'd apparently carried back from the club was in full force, but so was the guilt. He had to get to the bedroom and compose himself.

"Oi, what are you wearing then? What have you been up to?"

Doyle froze. He didn't turn around, but answered through a tight throat,

"Nothing. I've been up to nothing at all." The bitterness slid out by itself. Denying the impulse to run, he walked deliberately into the bedroom and shut the door.

He sank onto the side of the bed, arms heavy on his thighs. Here he was in his leather, still sweating from the orgasm he'd had from thinking about Bodie, and there was Bodie sitting in his living room, just twenty feet away. This was closer than the two parts of his life had ever come before. Both he and Bodie deserved more respect. He was holding their partnership and friendship in his hands; tonight's rash action threatened his normally secure grip on both.

And the only correction for dishonesty was truth, which frequently was painful for both, the one giving and the one receiving. Although this might hurt Bodie, it was better than how Bodie would feel if his homosexuality came out without hearing it directly from the source. If Bodie was upset, Doyle would have to rely on their friendship and that Bodie was a man of the world; they would work it out. At least he fervently hoped they would. So he would do it. He would accomplish two things by divulging the truth, or part of it; his coming out and atonement. He didn't have to tell Bodie everything. He could tell him about liking men and even about going to a club to celebrate his coming out. But he'd avoid the name of the club in the remote chance Bodie'd heard of it. He didn't have to go any further than that.

His decision made, he pulled off his boots and pushed himself off the bed. The jacket was next, then his trousers. He was hauling up his old track suit bottoms when the door to the bedroom opened. Bodie stood there, looking unsure.

"Uh, I didn't know if you were going to sleep."

Doyle glanced at his watch. Almost an hour had passed while he was lost in thought. "Oh, sorry. I was miles away."

Bodie's gaze was riveted on his shirt, which he had chosen to wear tonight because it was almost transparent and he felt sexy with it brushing against his chest and nipples. Now he felt naked under Bodie's stare. Before he could pull the shirt off in trade for his sweatshirt, Bodie's eyes focused at his neck. His hand shot out and grabbed the gold symbol.

"What the hell?! What is this?"

Pure hostility lashed him. The hell with good intentions, there was no way he was going to make himself more vulnerable in the face of this icy gaze. "It's nothing. Nothing that concerns you." He tried to pull away, but Bodie held him fast by the chain.

"Don't give me that. I'm not stupid, mate." Bodie's eyes were dark with anger. "I know what this is. What I want to know is what it means to you." He jerked the chain in emphasis. "Tell me."

Doyle felt the chain pull tighter around his neck, biting his flesh. "Sod off. Let go of me." His hand grasped the chain closer to his throat and he jerked himself out of Bodie's grasp. "It's my life. I'll do whatever I want and I don't need anyone else's approval, not even yours." He turned away and tried to slow his hammering heart. He felt Bodie's stare pierce his back like needles but he didn't move. He felt each of Bodie's harsh breaths thud within his own chest.

"Dammit, Ray!" Bodie rasped, and he pounded out of the room.

Doyle looked up to find his own face staring back at him from his dresser mirror. Before he had left for the club, his sexy reflection had added to his anticipation. Now, defeat and exhaustion replaced all traces of allure. Somehow he needed to talk to Bodie yet control his anger and fear. His instincts, based on years of success, demanded he continue to shut Bodie out. He had never let himself hope he'd have a lover in Bodie, but he didn't dare let himself fear losing his friendship. He crushed his instinct and resolved to salvage what he could from this mess without losing his self respect. He pulled off his silk shirt and replaced it with the sweatshirt. The chain and its weighty symbol stayed on, although he tucked it inside his collar. He headed into the sitting room.

Bodie was facing the window, standing perfectly still, hands clasped tightly behind his back. He turned as Doyle entered the room. Bodie's face was cold but his eyes spoke of concern, desperation, and loss. This didn't match the hostility Doyle thought he had seen five minutes ago. "Bodie, what's wrong?"

"Do you think of me as your friend, Ray? I hope so, because it's how I think of you. You know, you can be an unmitigated bastard. I suppose I ask for the abuse because I actually try to do something for you." Lowered eyelids did not hide the trace of self-reproach, yet his face still carried anger. "What the hell has been bothering you? Every time I try to get you to talk you're either suspicious or you get nasty." He leaned against the wall, but his determined stare was more powerful than his fatigue. "I'm not here to tease or embarrass you. Because I'm your friend, I'm going to find out what's wrong."

Doyle's stomach dropped to his feet. He'd got it all backward; Bodie wasn't angry as much as he was worried. He was lowering his own defenses and asking Doyle to do the same. All these months that he'd been thinking about himself, Bodie must have been watching him, wondering what was wrong. That he hadn't walked out, especially after tonight's conflict, demonstrated profound commitment.

"Yes, I do think of you as my friend. I care for you. I didn't think you'd want to know about it." He paused, acknowledging Bodie's grimace. "I'm sorry for misjudging you. What do you want to know?"

Bodie breathed a sigh of relief, walked to the sofa, and settled in. He gave a friendly smile with his lips but his eyes were serious and curious, ready to begin the inquisition. "Let's start with the necklace. Are you gay?"

Deep breath, then, "Yes."

"Gay, not bi."

"Bi by necessity, gay by preference."

Bodie released a puff of breath. "Is this what you've been so distracted about? Telling me?"

Doyle pulled his necklace from under the sweatshirt and rubbed it gently while he met his partner's eyes. "I saw this in a shop right at the time I came to a few understandings. After years of disguising who I really was, I wanted to stop pretending. I had been existing in a made-up life for years. Tonight I was celebrating my coming out. Like a birthday."

"What happened tonight then?"

Doyle shifted in his seat. He'd prefer not to think of what happened in the club. Not now, not while getting the third degree by Bodie. "You mean apart from running into you unexpectedly?"

"You were wearing... well, I've never seen you dress like that. Where did you go?"

"A gay bar."

"You go there before?"

"Not this place, no."

"Other gay bars?"

"Yeah, sometimes, not very often, mostly just to relax."

"You ever pick someone up?"

"I have in the past, just a couple of times."

"Why didn't you pick someone up tonight?"

"I didn't want to."

"Why not?"

Doyle fought for calm, trying not to think of this as an interrogation. "I went to play, not to get serious. I danced a lot."

"This coming out--you can be honest with a bar full of strangers, but not me?"

"Bodie, many things are easier with strangers than with a friend."

"That's not much of a friendship, is it?"

"Some things can be too big for the friendship to bear."

"No. Not with us."

Doyle realized he wanted to be convinced. For Bodie to be willing to admit how committed he was to their friendship was almost more than he'd ever expected from his stoic partner. Would the rest of his revelations prove Bodie wrong? "All right, but I warned you."

Bodie gave a snort and rolled his eyes.

Doyle continued, "I went into the back room."

"What's that when it's at home?"

"This bar--it's a leather bar. The back room--it's a place where you can get what you want, if you're, uh, a little kinky." He reluctantly raised his eyes to watch Bodie's face. He didn't want to see the revulsion.

"Like what?"

Doyle stood and with a grimace of discomfort started pacing the room. He couldn't sit still any longer, waiting for Bodie's censure. "SM. Sadomasochism to you. Bondage, domination, that sort of thing." This was exquisite torture.

"Get laid there, did you?"

"No! No. I, ah, watched a bit. Then left."

"You, the original hedonist, left without getting your leg over? I don't believe it."

"I just went to check it out. It was my first time there and I wasn't sure what to expect."

"Did you like it? Are you going back?"

"Yeah, I liked it, but I don't know if I'll go back. Maybe."

Bodie looked down at his hands. "Why not?" He looked at Doyle again, strain at the edges of his eyes. "What is it you're afraid of? What do you want?"

Doyle sat on the arm of an easy chair. He hadn't expected to go this far with his confession. Stranger still, it felt less odd than he'd ever dreamt, to reveal all this to Bodie. It even felt freeing--but could he trust this feeling? Or would it backfire on him later? He crossed his arms in front of him, gathering warmth, then one hand crept to the charm on the chain. "Remember I said I discovered several things when I got the necklace? Well, I had to admit not only that I had a kink too, but that I was going to actively explore it." His eyes focused on the floor, the rest was stuck in the back of his throat.

"Out with it." He looked at Bodie, who then continued softly, "Ray, I'll be here after you tell me."

He produced a nervous smile of thanks. "I like to be submissive, to submit to my partn-- someone's control. To please him."

"Oh." Doyle could read nothing in Bodie's face. "Do you want it that way all the time?"

"No. Not all the time."

"But?"

"But I need it more than occasionally." His face was hot.

"Got any more to tell me, sunshine?"

"That's not enough?"

"Maybe. Have you been submissive with a man before?"

"Uh, not really. I've had enough of a taste, though, to know I want more."

"So why not do it tonight?"

"I don't want a quick fuck with a stranger."

"So watching and dancing with strangers is easy, but fucking them is not?"

"Some strangers would be easy to fuck."

"Then why didn't you?"

He began pacing again, this was going on forever. "I want more."

"Ah. And that would be...?"

"A lover." He felt light-headed for a moment. He'd told Bodie everything he needed to and he hadn't left--hadn't laughed at him or even been repelled. He almost felt like he was back in control of himself and his life. He was dizzy with relief.

"I see. That's it then."

"Eh?" He stopped and turned to Bodie in surprise.

Bodie eyed his partner sternly. "It's been months that I've been wondering what's been wrong with you. I'd imagined... well, let's just say there were a lot of possibilities." The doubt crept back. "So is this the problem you've been working on?"

"Well, yeah."

"And this doesn't have anything else to do with me?"

Doyle grasped the nearest surface with one hand, fingers tight around the back of the armchair. A shiver shimmered through his body. No words could slide past the knot in his throat. Bodie stood quietly and walked to him. Stopping mere inches from his partner, he cautiously wrapped his arms around him.

If Doyle had thought Jack's embrace on the dance floor was special, he hadn't understood the meaning of the word. Bodie's friendship encompassed him, his warmth poured into Doyle. He couldn't have stopped himself from returning the embrace, his arms wound around Bodie's waist, pulling himself closer. They stood together silently until the shivers coursing through Doyle's body faded. Bodie shifted, and Doyle prepared himself for the cold which would descend when Bodie withdrew. Instead soft lips nuzzled at his neck. He started and pulled slightly away. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like? I'm kissing you." A faint flush brightened his cheeks. "Would do more if you'll let me."

Doyle's jaw dropped. "What do you mean? You're straight."

"Yeah, well, I thought I was. I've never made it with a man, though I've had offers. I thought what I felt for you was friendship--I knew it went beyond partnership. After tonight I know it goes way beyond friendship. No, Ray. I can't think of anyone else I'd be so worried about, or patient with." He raised an eyebrow. "It drives me bonkers to see you in pain. I would have found out about it eventually. Then tonight, you came in looking so startled and scared and oh, god, you looked so gorgeous and sexy. I couldn't let it go on, I had to get through to you. If I hurt you tonight I'm sorry. I didn't know what else to do. "

He looked at Doyle cautiously as though expecting anger or retribution. Doyle held his ground, and watched as Bodie's lips moved toward his, the kiss soft and warm. He posed no resistance, and Bodie's tongue crept out to lick gently at his lips. Suddenly Doyle couldn't get enough air in his lungs. Bodie had the wherewithal to lead them to the sofa where he again pulled Doyle into his protection. Although Doyle could easily envision how exciting sex would be under Bodie's dominance, with this first chaste kiss he understood this new relationship would be created with love and tenderness. Bodie's face, finally unguarded, showed him that his mate felt the same love and caring that he felt pulsing through his heart. The time for exotic games would come later. Now was the time to cement the loving, gentle part of their relationship. "Ray?"

"Mmm?"

"Will I be enough for you? Can you teach me to give you what you need?"

"Oh, love, you're more than enough. We'll work it all out."

"We always do, don't we?" And he kissed Doyle until neither wanted to talk anymore.

---

PART TWO

It had hit him hard, falling in love with Ray Doyle. It occurred in the snap of a minute and within the span of an hour his love was irrevocably entwined with Ray's love for him.

From the moment Doyle had returned to his flat, surprised by Bodie's presence, the night had become a chain of surprises. The one consistency was Doyle's distress, and when Doyle suffered, Bodie consoled. While Doyle had needed his confessions to release himself from the strain of his silence, Bodie had needed to confront Doyle's hurt and vulnerability to recognize he'd just opened his heart to his friend.

Their closeness and passion had not diminished in the seven weeks since their first night together. Bodie was always aware of Doyle's gravitational pull; when they were not together, he craved to be intimately within his orbit.

Like now, as he sat on his settee, drifting on thoughts of Doyle again. Well, why not, considering he was just passing time until Doyle returned to their flat. Perhaps a small whisky would help. It didn't stop his thoughts from sliding back to his reaction when Doyle told him of his unconventional sexual interests and unfulfilled needs. Bodie had never slept with someone serious about taking either the dominant or submissive role, although one girlfriend had hinted about trying one or the other right before she broke off with him. Doyle appeared so self-contained; Bodie would never have guessed he'd want to be submissive. He'd been about to show his surprise, when he absorbed signs of anxiety in Doyle that would have passed unnoticed by anyone else. As Doyle spoke, his voice deepened to balance the tension in his words, and his body strained, revealing it as the battleground in a war between composure and edginess. Despite his misery at exposing his raw emotional wounds, Doyle had maintained his dignity and self-respect. Bodie's initial hesitation to soothe collapsed under the weight of Doyle's courage and his confessed love for his partner.

Bodie took a swallow of his drink. Since they consummated their new relationship, his only regret was not seeing earlier that he was ignoring his lover's more unusual needs. Several weeks ago, he noticed Doyle would frequently shift from distraction to desperate passion. This strange behavior puzzled Bodie, and he applied himself to it until he felt sure he'd guessed the problem. Although Doyle had told him he needed sexual domination, Bodie had not given this its proper attention due to the adjustments he was making to his own world view.

After the night he'd told Bodie of this need, Doyle never alluded to it again. Typical of Doyle, he was reticent to discuss himself at the best of times, but having pushed Bodie from heterosexual to homosexual in one momentous leap, it seemed likely that Doyle feared Bodie had reached the limit of his tolerance. Bodie felt the best way to counter this was action, so he arranged tonight's experience when he would do his best to fulfill his lover's desires.

He smiled, remembering the day he'd begun his research. The excitement he'd felt about his plan had strengthened his resolve and bore him through what might normally have been discomfort and embarrassment. He buoyantly entered the dingy Soho sex shop, projecting a confidence he didn't completely feel. The front of the store contained books and well thumbed through magazines, female flesh pictured everywhere. Following handwritten signs indicating more goods, he walked down a dark hallway to the rear of the shop, and arrived in a room crowded with sex toys and boy magazines. Still maintaining the appearance of ease, he began asking the jaded clerk questions about the nature and use of the implements on display. In the midst of his first question, the lone other customer in the room dropped the copy of Zipper he was pretending he wasn't reading as though it had caught fire, and head down, shoulders hunched, he scurried out of the room and down the hallway, his shoes making clawlike scraping noises over the dirt-encrusted linoleum. Bodie flashed the clerk a comedic expression of exaggerated surprise and though he didn't get a smile out of the man, the clerk warmed enough to answer Bodie's questions as well as to offer some succinct words of advice. Bodie took these warnings seriously; he had given many of these topics thought already.

Ready to make a decision, Bodie cast his gaze around the shop's wares, feeling strong attraction to several objects. He easily imagined how they could be used to heighten Doyle's uninhibited sexuality. But keeping in mind that both he and Doyle were new to this world, he chose items that were safe and simple as well as unthreatening; they would not cause pain, but would intensify the body's sensitivity. As he paid for his choices, he was gruffly reminded that as a novice he must try everything out on himself; he must understand each device to guarantee a safe encounter. He nodded his understanding and thanks, bundled his package under his arm, and headed home, his game plan already coalescing.

His only remaining anxiety was how aroused he'd be when his plan went into practice. His fantasies were stimulating, but reality might fall short of them, or something could go awry. For this experience to succeed, they needed to be in sync with each other--Bodie to reach beyond his nervousness and devote himself to Doyle's pleasure, Doyle to trust his partner in this as well.

The time to dwell on his worries was gone; he heard the snick of Doyle's key in the lock. He downed the remaining drops of whisky, returned the glass to the kitchen, and with banked-down anticipation, went to greet his partner.

Bodie embraced Doyle from behind as he faced the door to reset the locks. As his arms surrounded Doyle, Bodie savoured the way the day's tensions drained from his lover's body. Doyle rested his head back against Bodie's shoulder and sighed as Bodie kissed what he could reach, his temple, his ear. Doyle turned restlessly within the solid arms, seeking more. Bodie indulged him in a deep kiss, but he eased back before it gathered too much momentum.

Bodie licked Doyle's neck and murmured, "You hungry, love, or will lunch keep you for a while?"

"Mmm--no, I'm fine. What do you have in mind?"

"Actually, I have something a little different in mind. You in the mood?"

"I'm always in the mood," Doyle rubbed his body against Bodie's, his eyes slitted in pleasure. "What do you want to do?"

"Not going to tell you, have to show you. You'll understand in a few minutes."

"Now that sounds ominous." The smile in his eyes was tinged with wariness. "What are you up to?"

"Don't worry. I'm sure you'll like it. And even though you won't need it, in case you want to stop anything, just say 'goodnight', okay?"

Doyle's stare told Bodie he wasn't sure if this safeword was a tease or if Bodie was serious. After a minute of thought the caution remained but he consented, "Yeah, all right."

"Great. It'll be okay, love, honest." His smile added assurance. He clasped Doyle's hand in his and led him to the center of the sitting room. Releasing his hand, he kissed him first on the forehead, then on the lips, and seated himself facing Doyle several feet away in a straight-backed chair.

"Strip."

If the sudden order surprised Doyle he didn't show it. He deliberately yet casually removed each piece of clothing and folded them into a neat pile. He stood then, hands clasped loosely behind him. Bodie, always aroused at Doyle's nudity, stared at the beauty and grace that was his for the night. Finally he spoke, "Take your clothes into the bedroom and put them on the chair. Bring me the boxes on the bed. Go."

Doyle bent to collect his clothes, then sauntered from the room. He returned in moments to stand in the same place, arms full with three different sized boxes. "Put them on the table. Now stand here, and give me the top one." Bodie pointed to the floor in front of him and took the package.

Bodie ran his hand up between Doyle's long, slim thighs. "I want you to stand with your legs apart." Doyle complied and Bodie jiggled Doyle's testicles in explanation. "Good."

Discarding the top of the small box, Bodie picked up the set of leather straps and spread them on his open hand. The three connected straps were shaped like a short, seven-inch-wide capital letter I, and several snaps adorned the bands which were all a uniform one-half inch in width. Bodie's deliberate fingers took one of the parallel straps, encircled the base of Doyle's cock with it, and fastened the ends together on top. The rest of the straps hung down between his cock and testicles. Bodie watched Doyle's genitals react. Doyle's unassisted erection would be his assent to Bodie's control. His heavy cock pulsed and began to fill. In moments it was engorged and jutting straight out from his groin, reaching for the source of its stimulation. Ignoring his own penis which was rising in response, Bodie obliged Doyle's; he pulled the connecting piece of leather backward and upward, dividing Doyle's ball sack, and sending a quiver through his legs. He coiled the remaining straps from behind Doyle's balls, around the outside of each testicle, and snapped them in front to the band constraining his cock. Doyle's testicles were now bound, separated, and distended by the strips of leather.

Bodie watched Doyle look down at himself, then clench his buttocks and shiver when his genitals did not bounce as usual, but instead remained stretched and rigid.

Bodie tickled the underside of each testicle with one finger, then moved to the cock, pulling the foreskin down, exposing most of the silken head, stopping only when the hood tightened over the sensitive skin.

"Mmm, I like this quite a bit. Do you?"

"Oh yes." Doyle's voice was a low croak.

"Don't you want to thank me?"

"Yes. I'm sorry. Thank you, Bodie."

"Good. As the night goes on we'll have to make sure you don't forget how good this feels, won't we?" He glanced up in time to see Doyle's tongue swipe at his lips.

"Yes, please." Seemingly back in control, the strain in Doyle's voice was almost unnoticeable.

"Now, I want to look at you. Go over there and turn around slowly. Very nice. Now walk to the hallway and back." Doyle's casual stance and gait had tilted toward the awkward as he adjusted to the restriction of his genitals.

Doyle had never looked so appealing. Off balance and aroused, he was both virgin and satyr. Bodie's cock hardened further as he remembered the perpetual tug of the separating straps, the grip of the cock ring. The day he'd tried on the device Doyle now wore, he became erect immediately and masturbated to a powerful climax. The urgency of his arousal had astonished him; he hadn't needed to wank since he started sleeping with Doyle. If Doyle liked it as much as Bodie had, he doubted Doyle would be inclined to share; they'd just have to buy Bodie his own.

Doyle was watching him, eyes wide as he noticed the prominent bulge in Bodie's trousers.

"All right. Let's have the big box."

Bodie placed it on his lap and told him, "Kneel in front of me, knees apart." He waited for Doyle to settle, then pulled off the cover.

Doyle gazed into the box in awe, then looked up at Bodie hopefully. Bodie nodded and Doyle reverently lifted the heavy jacket from its box and pressed his face into the silky leather, inhaling deeply. "It's beautiful," he sighed.

Bodie watched him fondly. "Stand up and put it on. Keep your legs apart."

Doyle stood, twisted into the jacket, and wrapped it tightly around his naked torso.

"Turn around." The view from behind was almost enough to make him come; those perfectly formed, creamy buttocks were emphasized by the tight black leather. His erection was becoming painful. He turned Doyle to face him, hands still fondling his bum as he continued to talk. "It's perfect on you. You were born to wear black leather and be naked under it. I could watch you like this for hours. Maybe I should keep you locked up here all day, wearing nothing but that jacket and the binding around your cock and balls. You'd like that, wouldn't you, your cock would be hard all day, knowing I kept you dressed for my pleasure?"

Bodie squeezed Doyle's testicles together and watched him react; hips jerked forward and legs spread wider. He massaged his own trouser-encased genitals with his other hand.

"You'd be aching all day, waiting for me to touch you. Have you ever been kept hard for hours, I wonder?" Releasing Doyle, he pointed for him to kneel. He pulled down his own flies and released his cock, pushing his balls out as well. "Oh, that's better. Now, you in this kit all day, you'll be available to me whenever I want you." His thumb moved up and down his erection, while his other hand fondled and pulled his balls. Doyle was watching Bodie's hands caress himself, mouth slightly open, panting lightly.

"What will I do with you all day? You'll suck me, of course." Bodie stood up, inches from Doyle. He rubbed his cock over Doyle's face. Eventually he slid the cock head against his lover's lips. "Open."

Doyle stretched his mouth wide, allowing Bodie to enter him fully. Strong hands held Doyle's head while the rigid cock thrust slowly in and out, buried to the hilt with each stroke. "And I don't want to ignore your bum. It'll be open to me, too. I'll work it, squeezing and biting it. Licking it. 'Course I could fuck you--your bum was made for my cock to sink into. But this time I'll have you suck me all day. I'll watch a match, or read, and the whole time your mouth'll be on me. Sometimes I'll play with your cock and balls, your arsehole and bum."

Bodie pushed in and out faster, shortening his strokes to better feel the suction in Doyle's mouth. His balls were aching and tightening, the heat was gathering, almost there, almost heaving upward for release. "When I come, I'll touch your cock, just the slit, you'll feel it, the heat, the pressure, aching, waiting for me, wanting me, and I'm coming, coming down your throat, ahhh." Fantasy and heat slammed together. His balls pulsed the heat upward, his cock opened and he was pouring his heat down Doyle's throat, wave after wave flowing out of him.

His breathing slowed, his pulse calmed, and he returned to awareness. He was about to rub at the tickle on the head of his penis, when he looked down to see Doyle flicking his tongue gently over his quiescent cock. Bodie ran his hands lovingly through Doyle's curls, and caught the gleam of humor and satisfaction in his eyes as he looked up. Relieved to see no hint of discomfort, Bodie pulled back and tucked himself into his trousers. He sat, leaned forward, and kissed Doyle, tickling his tongue as his cock had been tickled. Bodie closed the kiss slowly, withdrawing until he was barely licking Doyle's lips.

"Time for your third present." Bodie motioned that it be handed to him. "First take off the jacket and put it on the sofa."

Doyle returned and knelt in front of Bodie, who pulled the top off the box and watched Doyle intently. Desire, yearning, and trepidation vied for control.

"Do you like it?"

"Yes." A puff of breath.

"Would you like me to use it on you? Would you like to feel it slap your bum, feel it make you hot and ready for me?"

"Oh yes. Yes, please."

Bodie curled his hand around the glossy wooden handle. Removing the paddle from the box, he ran his fingers over the butter smooth leather strap. The thin leather was designed to sting without bruising or cutting. The nerves in Doyle's bum would be aroused and they would invigorate his entire genital area, but he would not be even temporarily damaged.

Laying the paddle on the table next to him, Bodie guided Doyle to stand facing him at the side of his chair. "Open your legs wider. More. Now bend over and hold onto the table. That's right." Doyle was leaning across Bodie's lap, chest resting on his thighs. Bodie regarded the fruits of his labor. With his head lower than his buttocks, balls tied and dangling, and anus exposed, Doyle was perfectly submissive.

Bodie's hands roved, caressing as much flesh as he could reach until his touch narrowed to Doyle's bum, which he fondled and pinched lightly. When he felt the shivers of anticipation flow through Doyle, he took up the paddle and quickly smacked each cheek with one blow. The pleasure of the impact jolted Doyle's body and he groaned, "Oh, please."

Bodie smacked him in a measured rhythm until he'd covered all of Doyle's bum and the back of his thighs with stinging slaps. Doyle's moaning was as continuous as the motion of his hips; he did not appear to be conscious of his movements--first driving forward, his cock seeking satisfaction, then lunging back, begging for more heat for his buttocks.

Bodie applied the strap once more over Doyle's cheeks. When the skin turned a rosy shade of pink he stopped, despite Doyle's continuing thrusting and incoherent but enthusiastic mumbling. Replacing the paddle with the soft skin of his hands, he soothed the soreness and stroked the crack of Doyle's arse, gentling him back to reality.

"Can you stand?" he asked quietly.

"Unh, think so."

Doyle supported himself on Bodie as he levered himself upright, his legs still wide apart and shaking, his cock dripping pre-come. Bodie's hands again wandered, kneading his hot buttocks, tugging his testicles, twisting his nipples.

"Go to the bedroom, get on the bed, on your shoulders and knees." He lightly slapped Doyle's buttocks. "Now."

Doyle brought his legs together stiffly, turned, and walked slowly from the room, his gait now affected by his sore backside as well as his restricted cock and balls.

Giving both of them time to calm down, Bodie straightened up the room for a few minutes. He took a tube of lubricating gel from a desk drawer, wiped the sweat off the paddle with a handkerchief and returned it to its box. The jacket, too, went back into its container, the top located and replaced. He'd give it to Doyle again tomorrow when they'd resumed their normal roles. He wanted it to be a private way of reminding them of their love and passion while they were in public.

Finally he stripped off his own clothes, sighing at the liberation of his sex. He was aching again with need for Doyle. He took the tube and followed his cock into the bedroom.

Doyle's widespread, upthrust pink bottom seized his attention as he entered. Bodie walked to the bed, noting that Doyle's hands were curled into fists, but his breath had returned to normal. He knelt on the bed between Doyle's legs and squirted lube onto his fingers.

He had just slid the tips of two cool fingers past Doyle's sphincter when he felt a jolt charge through his lover. Doyle flung himself backwards, impaling himself on Bodie's slick fingers. Pushing himself forward, then plunging back, he fucked himself on Bodie's hand. Bodie let him continue until he thought Doyle was sufficiently open and lubricated, then he steadied his hips and pulled his hand away. Preparing himself with more gel, he placed his cock at the entrance to his lover's body and sank in. Doyle immediately relaxed around him, and he began with long, unhurried strokes. Eventually Doyle gasped and groaned in the way that told Bodie he was ready for an increased tempo. Bodie needed no further encouragement, his hips driving his cock into the tight, wet tunnel. The fire curled through his balls, his cock was expanding, craving the imminent explosion. As he teetered on the edge of orgasm, he felt Doyle tighten around him. "C'mon Ray--now, come now!" A keening cry burst from Doyle as he came in torrents, his internal walls squeezing Bodie with each pulse of release. Bodie took what he needed, pumping with short, fierce strokes, his own release building, then suddenly it exploded from him, his cry of triumph mingling with Doyle's.

Barely conscious, yet taking care not to hurt Doyle, Bodie toppled them both to their sides while holding his lover tightly to him. He unfastened the leather from Doyle's spent genitals, then joined Doyle in sleep. Waking soon after, Bodie muzzily prepared to care for Doyle. He let Doyle roll onto his back and reached to release him from the cock ring when he noticed he was still holding it in his hand. He heard a low chuckle and turned to see Doyle watching him with love and contentment in his eyes. He wrapped his hands around Bodie's and kissed first his lover's hand, then the leather straps. The action answered most of Bodie's questions and he could resist those lips no longer. He put all the love he felt into the kiss and felt Doyle respond the same. Although he never wanted the kiss to end, he finally drew back.

Doyle was the first to speak, "Thank you, love. It was better than I could have imagined."

"It did turn out well." He sighed happily, but concern caught up with him.

"Are you all right?"

"Surprised you have to ask."

"No, are you hurt? I was rougher than usual."

"You were, and it was lovely." He smiled. "I'm fine. What about you, is everything okay with you?"

"Mmm. Was a little nervous at first, though."

"Oh, well then, we'll just have to practice until you get some more confidence in yourself, won't we? Practice makes perfect, you know." Doyle looked at his lover with seductive eyes and a tiny pout.

Bodie sighed sadly, "Yes, I s'ppose we will." His eyes lit up. "At least all that practice won't be painful--for me!"

Doyle's look of outrage lost its power as his lips curled. "I'll get you for that one, you toad." His yawn was cavernous. "Later." He curled up against Bodie, his back pressing into his lover's chest. Doyle drew his lover's arm across his waist, pulling Bodie further around him as though he were a duvet, never relinquishing his grasp on Bodie's hand. Bodie, amused and touched by Doyle's assumption of ownership, wrapped more of himself around Doyle. He remained awake until Ray's breathing deepened, then allowed himself to slide into slumber as well.

-- THE END --