"Ray, why don't we stop for a while? You know, get out, stretch our legs..." Bodie glanced across at his companion hopefully.

Doyle's head was lolling against the rest and the window, aimless with fatigue.

"Eh, wha-? Oh, yeah, take a break, mate," he yawned. "Want me to drive?"

Bodie snorted. "Wanna get home alive!"

Doyle's grin was stifled by yet another jaw-breaking yawn.

"God, what a sight? Looks like the Mersey tunnel!"

Doyle rolled heavy-lidded eyes Bodie-ward, and contented himself with a reproachful sniff. "No tunnels round here," he mumbled, settling into the less- than-cosy corner of the Capri's front seat.

Bodie merely shrugged and pushed his foot a little harder on the accelerator, anxious to put as many miles between the Army camp and themselves as possible...

---

"Umn, Ray?" Bodie stopped the car.

"Sod off, Bodie."

Well, he hadn't really expected anything else from his drowsing partner. He shook the bony shoulder again.

"We've got a problem."

"You're keeping me awake..." Doyle inched away from him.

"We're lost," Bodie announced, with an air of exasperation.

"Nice." Doyle snuggled into the seat, not registering the news.

"REALLY lost," Bodie repeated. Never been lost before; well, he qualified, not in this country. He shook Doyle again. "Come on, Ray, wake up!"

Doyle opened his eyes.

"We there yet?" he blinked sleepily.

"No, we aren't. We're LOST. You know, no landmarks, no sign-posts, nothing

"Don't exaggerate," Doyle grumbled. "We can't be lost -- just a bit off-course. What did the last sign-post say?"

"Dunno," Bodie replied glumly. "Think we're still in Somerset..."

"Do you know how BIG Somerset is?"

"I'll bet you're going to tell me," Bodie guessed unenthusiastically.

Doyle cursed vehemently. "No wonder you need a keeper -- " then at the look on his partner's face, he relented a little. "Drive on up the road, and we'll get our bearings when we get to the next junction."

Bodie started the car, and smothered a yawn. Doyle reached over and grabbed his hand as it descended on the gearshift.

"Swap over," he sighed.

---

Bodie woke abruptly, as the engine died. Doyle was slumped over the wheel.

"Where are we?"

Doyle raised his tired head. "Glastonbury."

"WHAT?"

That meant they were miles off course -- Bodie had been driving in the opposite direction from London. Doyle would never let him live THIS down.

"There's a chippy round the corner," Doyle continued. "As you were the one who got us lost, you can pay for the meal."

Bodie was too tired to argue. Wearily, he followed his partner out of the car, and down the street. The lights inside the chip-shop were uncomfortably bright, and the seated area was packed to overspill. Bodie blinked unhappily and gave the girl the order. Doyle stood looking ever-so-slightly dazed. Bodie took their chips and nudged him out of the shop.

"Lets find somewhere quiet to eat these," he suggested.

A slow smile spread over Doyle's face.

"I know just the place."

"Oh, yeah," Bodie crooked a disbelieving eyebrow at him but got into the passenger seat.

Doyle drove them back through the town, following the winding road, and steadily ascending...Bodie jerked awake when the Capri jarred over the cattle grid at the bottom of a steep narrow lane, and crunched to a halt. Doyle was reaching into the back of the car, grabbing a rug. Bodie watched, a little uneasy.

"It'll be exposed where uere going," Doyle explained innocently.

"And just where's that?"

"Short walk from here. Bring the food, and we'll have a moonlight picnic..." Doyle eased out of the cat, blanket in hand, and Bodie was alone.

"Hold on a minute!" Bodie struggled from his seat. Ahead in the lane, Doyle stopped and waited.

"Zip the grub inside your jacket, keep it warm."

"And have me stink of chips for a month, protested Bodie. "No, thanks!"

"All right, I'LL do it, and you can carry the blanket."

They swapped loads and Bodie heard the rasp as the zipper closed round his supper, as he folded the rug and tossed it over one shoulder.

"That'll be easy enough to climb with," he approved.

"CLIMB?"

"Only a little one," Doyle encouraged, hoping his partner wouldn't see his crossed fingers in the moonlight.

"Why do I get the feeling I'm not going to enjoy this?" muttered Bodie. Doyle led on up the pathway and through a gate, following a roughly gravelled track that was grey against the black ground. Bodie stepped after him, marvelling at how quietly his colleague covered the uneven territory, as if he were familiar with every stone and blade of grass. He was content to hold back, striding easily until he reached the style [stile?].

"Mind yourself here, sunshine," Doyle warned. "It's a step up." He reached out to take Bodie by the elbow.

"I can see," Bodie assured him. "It's not that -- " He missed his footing and stumbled. Doyle caught him.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," he grinned, pushing his mate upright.

Bodie glowered in the darkness.

"Come on, misery guts," Doyle continued. "It's not far now...'

Bodie raised his head and gazed up the hill, which was outlined against the star-spangled sky.

"Not up there?"

"All the way to the top." Doyle moved off a pace. "Come on, or your chips'll get cold."

"I'm going back to the car."

"I'VE got the keys," Doyle reminded him. "Come on, Bodie." He came back and grabbed Bodie's wrist, pulling him away from the style [stile?], tugging like an excited school kid. Reluctantly, Bodie let himself be hauled up the path.

Doyle let go at the first corner and slowed a little. Behind him, Bodie was muttering dire threats and shifted the blanket to the other shoulder. They reached the wind-swept ridge and the going got easier. Doyle picked up the pace and they hurried towards the ruined tower.

Pausing by the edge of the track, Bodie gazed up at it, where it rose, black against the midnight sky. Doyle had scampered off to have a look around and came bouncing back.

"We've got the Tor to ourselves," he informed Bodie gleefully.

"I'm not bloody surprised," snorted Bodie. "Who in their right mind would come up here?"

Doyle was entering the open doorway and a moment later, there was the hiss of a lighter, and Bodie saw the tiny flare of the flame. Doyle was searching for a place to sit.

"Bring the blanket in here." His voice echoed strangely from within the hollow stone. Bodie approached cautiously, wary of treading on unknown land. The tower engulfed him, and he knew a moment's panic before he noticed there was no ceiling.

"Ray?" he whispered. "What is this place -- some kind of watch- tower?"

Doyle took the rug from him and spread it on the floor.

"It's part of an old church. We're on holy ground here. Sit down, Bodie -- here, against the wall..."

Doyle folded himself down onto the blanket, and the sudden scent of chips assailed Bodie's nostrils. Carefully, Bodie lowered himself to sit beside his partner, and found a warm paper package dumped in his lap. Doyle had already unwrapped his and was busy with the greasy contents. Never one to refuse food -- a carry-over from his mercenary days -- Bodie buried his nose in the parcel and got stuck in. He finished first, licking his lips, and wiping his hands on the edge of the wrapping. Wishing he'd had the foresight to buy a couple of drinks while he was in town, he settled back against the wall, sighing...Not long after, Doyle handed him the remnants of his meal; on the principle that he'd paid for it, Bodie finished it.

Doyle smiled in the semi-darkness.

"You'll have a heart attack if you keep eating this stuff," he teased.

Bodie kept chewing.

"Still," Doyle stretched out his legs, "you're in the right place for it."

"What - " Bodie scrunched up the chip-paper. "Half-way up this bloody mountain? 'Nearer my Lord to thee'?"

"Hallowed ground," Doyle reminded. "Sanctified time out of mind since the dawn of man." He leaned against his partner, feeling the warmth of Bodie radiating through his shoulder and arm. "Fancy a drink?" He could make out the eager expression on his mate's face and smirked. "Nip down the chippy and get us a couple of cans, there's a good lad!" Bodie gave him an admonishing shove and Doyle scraped along the wall, giggling. "If you think I'm traipsing up this hill just for you -- " Bodie grouched. From the shadows of his pocket, Doyle produced the can and pulled the ring, "Where'd you get that?" Bodie eyed it with envy. Doyle took a sip and handed it across.

"Only lemonade," he excused. "Had it left over from when we drove down." Then as Bodie made a slurping noise, "Don't drink it all, you greedy bugger"!" He lunged for his companion, only to be held off by an iron-hard arm. Bodie put the drink safely to one side, as he and Doyle began to squabble physically. Hands reached in the dark, illegal holds, enough to infuriate, not enough to injure. It felt strangely comfortable to be tumbling about on the blanket with Doyle, isolated in the privacy of the tower...

Doyle put him on his back -- Bodie allowed him that much -- and sat down on his middle heavily enough to wind his partner.

"Truce!" gasped Bodie. "I didn't have it all. Can's over by the wall...'

Unwilling to release his captive, Doyle bent forward so that he was almost lying on top of his colleague. He steadied himself with one hand on the black-clad chest. Bodie started (when) he was touched. Above him, Doyle had the lemonade can raised to his lips and drank deep.

Honour satisfied, he wiped his mouth and sat back. There was a distinct swelling of flesh hard beneath him -- Bodie was struggling to sit up, managing to prop himself on his elbows. He made to take the can from his partner's hand and almost dropped it; as their fingers brushed, Bodie's groin throbbed -- there was no way Doyle could not have felt it. Doyle carefully prised the can away from him, setting it on one side. He leaned forward and pressed his lips lightly to Bodie's, undemanding, yet...

"Ray?" Bodie's voice was fearful. This was a dream, and he would wake up soon, either in his flat, or behind the wheel of the Capri -- WOULDN'T HE?

Doyle sat back, pinning Bodie to the blanket, enjoying the feeling of the hard-muscled body and its barely concealed arousal beneath him.

"Do you want to?" he asked huskily, wriggling just a little. Bodie's body told him he did.

"We -- can't," gulped Bodie, panicking. Why not, his subconscious demanded.

"Why not?" purred Doyle. "You want to..."

Why not? Why not? Because -- Doyle was his partner, and they still had to work together afterwards. Because if Bodie once did it, he would want to keep doing it, and in CI5, you couldn't afford to run that risk, because if Cowley found out, they'd both lose their jobs, and Bodie liked his job because he was working with D --

"Why not, Bodie?" repeated Doyle. "Your body wants to..."

"But -- this is holy ground," squawked Bodie. He cursed himself instantly; since when did he and his kind believe in God and His sanctified places...

Doyle's voice seemed to come from a long way off -- a thousand years ago in the darkness.

"Any place where blood is shed, or where people make love is holy ground..." Doyle hand was caressing his stubbled cheek, luring him into damnation. "You want me, don't you? You want to."

Bodie seized his wrists. He vaguely remembered that Doyle had the car-keys, and put one hand on his partner's hip, searching for them in the skin-tight jeans' pocket.

Doyle took his hand and put it on his own groin -- Bodie wasn't surprised to feel the erection there under his fingers. He could get away -- move his hand, throw Doyle off, make a run for it...his sleep sodden brain was working sluggishly.

He moved his hand -- in a slow soft caress. He could hear a voice, dark, unsteady -- not Doyle's, which was velvet brown and enticing...

"I want you...Let me have you..."

Doyle twisted free, stretching his arms above his head, and then peeled off his jacket. The shirt went next -- Bodie was already busy with his flies, wanting -- needing -- to feel warm Doyle flesh against him. Hands were pushing his own jumper and shirt aside, skimming over his belly, teasing fingers at his nipples. He bucked, reminding Doyle what he was about, and his partner got to his feet to finish undressing.

In the semi-dark, Bodie sat up and removed the rest of his clothing. When he was bare, Doyle went to him, plastering himself against the muscular body, molding himself to Bodie.

They sank to their knees on the rug, and Bodie covered his mouth with frantic kisses. Doyle tasted of chips and lemonade, darkness and desire, and something indefinably unique. They rutted together, tumbling on the blanket, thrusting urgently. Bodie needed to have him, wanted him, and Doyle was determined that he should have what he wanted.

He clung on as Bodie heaved beneath him, then froze as his lover started to come. Semen soaked them both. A second later, it was Doyle's turn...Afterwards, they lay panting, their legs tangled.

Oh, God, thought Bodie, I did it...

"What happened?" he begged hoarsely.

"We made love." Doyle's voice was dreamy, his breath gusting in Bodie's ear. A soft brush of lips at his temple and a finger flicking back damp hair from his brow.

"We -- shouldn't've done that..." Bodie tried to pull away. Doyle arrested him, sliding one strong arm about him and jerked him back hard.

"BODIE! NO!"

---

It was still dark and he was cold. Bodie struggled to open his eyes. It felt as if he was floating... He was vaguely concerned, but he couldn't remember why -- There had been Doyle's voice, and his partner trying to hold him -- the gut-twisting feeling that some greater force was tearing them apart...One eyelid rose sluggishly, and he was assaulted by broken images -- torchlight, and many, many people wandering -- weird instruments wailed mournfully...He was drifting, like the smoke from their fires, through the crowd...warriors? Strangely dressed, helmets, dark, brooding faces...Bodie knew a moment of panic -- where was Ray? What had these people done with his lover? Ray! But his voice had no power, above the noise of the strangers. It was as if he did not exist -- they could not see him...He couldn't rationalise his thoughts, and that frightened him even more. The terror lent him strength and he gathered himself.

"RAY!"

A blackened face peered down at him. The mouth opened, closed -- Bodie attempted to follow the words, but he couldn't hear properly...A mewling cry reached his ears, and he felt his body rising - -- the whole experience was totally unnerving -- he was going -- THEY were taking him, separating him from his beloved Ray...He closed his eyes and sobbed, desperate to know his mate's whereabouts...

"Bodie..." The sound came from far away.

The effort was almost too much, but he managed to look. Doyle was there, above him, his face decorated in unattractive abstract -- streaks of kohl on his cheeks, badly smudged beneath the eyes. As he bent forward, Bodie could see traces of red in the curls...

"Ray -- "

"Don't talk. Take it easy, sunshine..."

"You're crying," Bodie croaked incredulously. "Did I hurt you?"

Doyle shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Bodie...so sorry..." Doyle was fading away, blending with the night.

Ray! "Lover..."

There was a light now, oddly familiar, keeping time with his heart. Thump, thump -- flash, flash...

He was unconscious again by the time they loaded him into the ambulance.

---

Doyle tossed down the pen, wincing as he did so. His ribs were sore, the bruising spectacular -- he had been lucky enough to stagger away from the wrecked Capri with lacerations, minor burns and a couple of cracked ribs. The hospital didn't even keep him in overnight, but packed him off home with usual advice not to overdo things. He was back at work the following day -- desk-bound for a fortnight on Cowley's express orders. The first report he had to turn in was the one on the accident...

Cowley had been furious with both his agents: Bodie, for getting them lost; Doyle, for crashing the car. The Old Man had spent hours at Bodie's bedside whilst the operative was unconscious -- Doyle had been given a royal bollocking before being handed a pile of files. Bodie, he mused, was well out of it. He wondered if Bodie knew how he'd come to lose control of the car...

He's got a right to be mad at me, Doyle admitted. I shouldn't've even attempted it, but I couldn't help it, he's so beautiful. We were lucky not to've been killed, my reaction time was dead lousy, and Bodie's got a busted arm because of --

Doyle got to his feet and carefully put on his jacket. Phoning was useless -- Bodie was ignoring all his calls -- and he would have to face him sooner or later, so he might as well get it over with. He grinned ruefully, at least Bodie would be in no condition to punch him out at the moment...

Bodie toyed with the glass on the coffee table, watching the afternoon sun catch the amber liquid, turning it golden-brown like honey...the colour of Ray's hair...STOP IT! You don't want Doyle -- it was all a crazy dream: HE would never consider bedding with another man -- Africa was thousands of miles away, and Bodie's subconscious had played him for a fool. Okay, he could handle that -- HAD handled it for the last few years. He was sure that only he had known...and then Doyle goes and crashes my car...

Bodie sneered down at his arm, encased in a pristine white cast. He had been signed off for a month. Grounded -- virtually under house- arrest, unless he wanted to walk or use public transport. Or ask Doyle...He wouldn't ask Doyle; at the moment, he wanted to put as much distance as possible between him and the subject of his dreams. He had been miserable and moody, had sought solace in drink, and poetry and solitude. After almost a week, though, he finally faced up to the truth: he had fallen in love with Doyle. He wasn't quite sure what he should do about it -- but he knew he should get away from London -- out of contact range of his partner -- so that he could think, plan ahead, without Doyle's distracting influence.

He raised the glass -- definitely Ray's hair -- and took a sip.

He wasn't stupid; he knew it was Doyle who kept phoning. Bodie dared not pick up the receiver. To hear that Doyle had spoken to the controller about dissolving their partnership would be -- it would end a very important part of his life. The best part -- when he'd done something CONstructive. He knew he would not work as well with anyone else. He knew he would leave -- probably go back to Africa -- and he would try to forget Doyle...Except, he never would. Nobody else could fulfill the role that Doyle had -- friend, sparring partner, rival, brother, confidant, soul-mate...EVERYTHING. He already ached for his loss. Oh, Ray, why couldn't you be...

Someone was leaning on his bell. Logic - and instinct -- told him who. To refuse to see him would only delay the inevitable. Wearily, Bodie rose and let him in.

"You've got a right to be angry with me," Doyle announced without preamble. "I could've got you killed. If -- " he stopped. If Bodie wanted to break up the team, he couldn't refuse. There was adequate grounds after all, but the sudden vision of a future without this annoying, arrogant, beautiful...He swallowed. "If you don't want to work with me any more, I'll understand." He finished lamely. Bodie, please, don't tell me to go...

Ray doesn't want to be the one to say the party's over, thought Bodie. It's down to me. I can't let this go on.

"I haven't made up my mind yet -- I'm going away for a few days, I'll think about it then."

"Where'll you go?"

"Dunno -- I just need -- " I need you, but I can't have you.

"You can't drive," Doyle stated.

"I'll use the bus or train -- doesn't matter."

Doyle studied his partner: Bodie wasn't meeting his eyes and there was an unhappy droop about his mouth...

"I could take you," he offered, his voice softened infinitesimally. "Just tell me where..."

Bodie opened his mouth to refuse, to repeat that he didn't have a special place in mind. He heard a voice saying, "Glastonbury," and realised with a jolt he'd named the place in his dream,

"I'll pick you up in half an hour," promised Doyle.

Bodie never got the chance to protest; his partner had turned on his heel and fled, leaving Bodie standing alone and miserable in the middle of the floor,

It was almost sunset when the gold Capri pulled into the car park beside the pub. Doyle got out, stretching cautiously and wincing as he breathed a little too deeply. Bodie sat for a minute longer in the passenger seat, silent and brooding as he had been since their departure from London.

Doyle poked his head back inside the car.

"Come on, sunshine, you need a rest as much as I do."

Cradling his injured arm, even though it was in a sling, Bodie got out, slamming the door shut behind him. Doyle sighed inwardly; he had known this wouldn't be easy -- he hadn't reckoned on it being impossible.

"I'll buy you a drink," he offered tentatively, watching his partner's face for some sign that he had been forgiven.

Bodie shrugged awkwardly.

"Whatever," he grumbled as he trawled off towards the bar...

An hour later, Bodie still hadn't finished his pint and Doyle was losing patience with him. Their entire conversation had been limited to what Bodie wanted to drink and establishing that he wasn't hungry.

"Bodie -- " Doyle had stopped counting the attempts at a discussion.

"All I want," Bodie announced wearily, "is some peace and quiet."

The pub was starting to fill up.

"Let's find somewhere then." Doyle rose and led the way out.

It was a foregone conclusion that they would head for the Tor. Bodie swallowed as they grated over the cattle grid at the bottom of the lane.

"Stop the car, Ray."

Doyle obediently pulled the car to a halt.

"I need some air," Bodie excused himself and got out. Doyle automatically copied him and Bodie finally lost his temper.

"Bloody hell, Doyle, I don't need you to hold my hand! Go home! Bugger off back to London!"

"That's fine by me!" He ducked back into the car and slammed the door. Gunning the engine, he spun the wheels as he took off and Bodie was left standing. When Doyle came past after turning at the top of the road, his partner had disappeared. With a sigh that started a chain reaction in his ribs, Doyle headed back to the town...

---

Bodie climbed slowly, pausing frequently to catch his breath, and to look about him for something -- he wasn't quite sure what. Of course, in his dream, it had been night and there had been moonlight to guide him...His arm throbbed in its casing, and he supported it with his good hand. It helped to keep his mind off -- other things...like Ray holding his hand as they trudged up the path together. Like the odd little thrill of fear and excitement that had coursed through his veins as they ascended...like the memory of Doyle's touch, brushing away his fringe and strong arms round him...

The track eased and he picked up the pace. In the gathering dusk, there was something sinister about the squat stone tower, as if it were waiting to draw him in -- grey on grey and cream -- Ray would've loved the surrealist effect.

There were four others on the Tor, standing at the cardinal points, looking into the twilight. Bodie wondered if he'd walked in on some weird ritual, hut two of them were already preparing to go down. One of the others went into the tower, so Bodie settled against the outside wall, and closed his eyes for a minute...

---

Somebody was shaking him. He didn't want to wake up. He was comfortable, if a little chilled. Reluctantly, he responded and found Doyle gazing down at him.

"What're you doing here?" he yawned.

Doyle ignored the question.

"You planning to stay up here all night?"

"What if I am?"

Doyle dropped the traveling rug into his lap.

"You'll catch pneumonia if you do." He let Bodie struggle with the blanket one-handed for a while, then knelt beside his mate and tugged it into place round the brawny shoulders.

Bodie squirmed and scowled, but he said nothing. He had almost rationalised his feelings for his partner when he'd fallen asleep, and now Doyle was bringing him back to face the problem before he had a chance to remember how he'd planned to play it. Doyle sat beside him -- uninvited -- and heaved a sigh.

"Nice view," he remarked inanely. "Bet it's even better from the top of the tower."

"You can climb it if you like." Go on, break your stupid neck -- I'll never forgive you If you do.

The Doyle nose wrinkled.

"Too much of an effort at the moment -- " He unzipped his jacket and the scent of chips smacked Bodie right in the face. Doyle dumped a paper-swathed parcel in his lap. The smell and the warmth were tantalising. Bodie pouted even more.

"Not hungry," he snapped.

Doyle fought his smile, shrugged nonchalantly.

"Suit yourself." He proceeded to unwrap his own meal, making a minor production of it. Five minutes, he reckoned, before Bodie gave in and started on the second lot. He eyed the chips with trepidation -- not his usual idea of a healthy supper.

Bodie drew up his knees and jammed his sling between chest and thighs. He reached for a straying piece of batter. Doyle moved the paper so that it was easier for him to get at, surreptitiously glancing at the luminous dial on his watch. Three minutes...

The wind was beginning to rise, so they shifted into the tower, where they ate their way through the second portion. Bodie had trouble dividing his burger, so Doyle did it for him. The atmosphere between them was thawing.

"Don't suppose you brought anything to drink," Bodie grouched, half- hopeful, as his partner scrunched up the debris. Two cans appeared, from the depths of Doyle's coat pockets. Bodie might have known.

"This was all they had left," Doyle apologised.

Bodie grunted non-comittally, and anchored the can between his knees, ready to pull the ring. Doyle deftly removed it, averting a possible disaster. Bodie took a mouthful and nearly choked.

"What the HELL -- "

"Ginger beer," said Doyle, a shade too innocently, as he sipped his. He could feel Bodie's glower in the darkness.

Bodie parked his can against the wall and huddled under the blanket, closing his eyes again, Doyle drank slowly, his warmth pressed along Bodie's good side... It felt comfortable...

Doyle knew the exact moment when his partner fell asleep. Bodie's weight slewed sideways towards him. He removed the sling and gently worked his arm round his mate's waist, drawing him closer. The dark head settled easily on his shoulder and caused a smile. Not for the first time did Doyle envy his colleague's ability to sleep anywhere, although judging from his haggard appearance, Bodie hadn't had much rest recently. Doy1e rubbed his cheek against Bodie's hair. It was soft, silky -- unexpectedly so. He sniffed it; it smelt vaguely of shampoo -lovely, almost delicate, but with a distinct Bodieness about it...He brought up his free hand and brushed it away from the pale face.

Bodie snuffled and snuggled up. Doyle's smile became a grin; anymore, and Bodie would be in his lap!

He trickled his fingers down one stubbled cheek, tracing the beard line gently to his partner's mouth. Bodie's lips were soft, too, and Doyle's inquisitive digits were kissed lightly. Wherever Bodie was in his dream, he was obviously enjoying himself. Doyle felt the stirring of jealousy. He tugged the blanket tighter, attempting to anchor it under Bodie's uninjured hand...

Bodie's erection was swelling, and when Doyle rubbed against him, he whimpered softly. In his dream, Ray was about to take him in hand and do wonderful, wicked things to him...

Bloody HELL, cursed Doyle, and he drew his hand back. His own cock was throbbing urgently in the confines of his jeans. What would Bodie make of this? Ray Doyle, acknowledged stud, turned on by his macho male partner -- Bodie would probably pee himself laughing. To know that his partner, a man he trusted daily with his life was thinking about taking him to bed and -- Impossible dream: Bodie was a ladies man, and moreover, he was Doyle's PARTNER. Even if Bodie wanted to have it away -- Doyle's cock jerked involuntarily -- they couldn't, because they would still have to work together afterwards. If Cowley ever found out, they would both be off the squad...

Doyle's lips grazed the pale forehead.

"You're beautiful, you know," he murmured. He kissed the bridge of the pert nose. "Everything about you -- your face, your body...d'you know how much I want you..." He punctuated the litany with tiny tongue-tip touches to Bodie's brow. "Never thought I'd end up out here holding you this way, while you dream about putting it up some bird...Do you ever think of doing it with another man...?"

Bodie moved, raising his head from its improvised pillow.

"Lover?" He blinked and yawned.

Before he had the chance to think about the consequences, Doyle had cupped the rough chin and taken his partner's mouth. Bodie relaxed and closed his eyes once more, enjoying the sensation. He fumbled for Doyle's hand and put it down on his hot, hard genitals. Doyle drew back a little, studying his mate's face in semi-dark. He's serious - -- he wants me to --

"Ray, c'mon, mate. 'll be okay," coaxed Bodie, who was still caught up in his dream. "You said so -- wanna love you...

Doyle was nothing if not an opportunist. He gave Bodie another long hard kiss, and began to stroke the cotton-clad bulge. His fingers sought out the zip, easing it down. His hand crept gingerly over his prize. Bodie was almost purring with contentment as his balls were cradled. Doyle freed his other arm and shuffled backwards. His head went down, (but) to his annoyance he found he was hampered by too much clothing.

Bodie squirmed out of his slacks, his thoughts already matching Doyle's. He kicked off his trousers with an impatient grunt, and Doyle took the chance to rid himself of his jeans before returning to his task.

Bodie moaned in ecstasy as the wicked mouth covered him, drawing out all he had to give...Doyle dabbed him clean with a soft tongue-tip. He put out his hand, touched naked thigh...Ray wanted...

"You don't have to suck me off," breathed Doyle. "Lie down -- on the blanket."

Bodie did as he was told, fascinated, excited. It brought back memories of another night with this man...forbidden love...

Doyle straddled him, pushing up his shirt to his chin, hand playing over his chest, teasing his nipples. The curly head went down again and Bodie found himself being suckled. His cock showed an immediate interest.

Doyle wasn't unaware of the effect of his actions, but he meant to relieve himself before he tended to Bodie a second time. He sat down on his partner's hips, and began to milk his own penis. A moment later, he was coming over Bodie's belly and chest. Bodie dipped his fingers and tasted it: essence of Doyle was delicious.

Doyle was massaging it into his skin, using seductive circular strokes... Bodie felt drowsy. He put out his good arm. "Sweetheart?"

Doyle grabbed their discarded clothing and folded it for use as a pillow. He eased his way into Bodie's embrace.

'Don't hug too hard," he warned, "my ribs are killing me..."

In response, Bodie flicked the blanket over the naked behind and cuddled him delicately before drifting off. Grinning, Doyle made himself comfortable and followed suit.

---

The chill leeched into his bones and even the warmth of his bed mate wasn't compensation enough for the cold in his back and shoulders. Doyle raised his head and regarded his companion. Bodie was still asleep.

He struggled on all-fours, wincing as the effort caused him to put a strain on his abused rib-cage. Bodie's eyes opened as he stood easing the kinks from his body.

"Ray?"

"I'm going down to the car. 's too cold up here..."

Bodie sat up carefully.

"Chuck us over my jeans."

Bodie blinked, uncomprehending. Doyle wanted his jeans -- what was Ray doing half-naked anyway...

"Come on, love, my backside's getting cold!"

Bodie passed over their pillow, and a second later his own trousers came whizzing back at him, hitting him in the face. How the HELL had he -- unless --

Doyle wriggled frantically into his clothing. Bodie put a hand to his belly, where Doyle had been pressed but minutes ago. It felt like -- like someone had come all over him...

Doyle knelt by his side and helped him into his slacks.

"Ray," Bodie began uncertainly, "did I -- "

A hand rested on his belly, and Doyle leaned forward to brush his lips lightly against the furrowed brow.

"Yeah, WE did. Any objections?"

Somewhat bewildered, Bodie shook his head.

"Would've preferred it in bed though."

"Yours or mine?" Not that it would matter, in the end.

"Wherever -- " Bodie got to his feet slowly.

Doyle was looking round the tower. Outside the twilight was brightening, with the promise of a beautiful day ahead. Bodie was supporting the heavy cast, stirring the rug with his foot, in search of the sling. Doyle recovered it and fastened it for him, with a kiss as extra padding against the knot. Bodie still looked dazed. Doyle slid an arm round his waist.

"If you don't want to carry on, I won't force you -- "

"I want to," Bodie assured him. "For as long as we can... A shiver raced down his spine as the words came to his mind unbidden -- as long as we both shall live...

Doyle saw and understood. Solemnly, he kissed his lover, making a silent vow in the privacy of the church tower, on the ground that had been holy since the dawn of man. Then he carefully draped the blanket round Bodie's shoulders, and taking him by the hand, he led his lover out into the still of the morning.

-- THE END --

For Drake, 'on a night like this'.