'S What Mates Are For


"You can't be serious!"

"I've never been more so. C'mon, Ray, please? It's the way I really want it."

Raymond Doyle looked at his bedmate and wondered if Bodie had lost his mind. The partner/lovers sprawled in bed, both men exhausted from a night of sex. Bodie's request, made out of nowhere, had caught his slimmer, curly-haired partner completely off-guard.

"You mean you...you want it really rough?"

"Really rough. As rough as you can make it. I'd like to try it, just once. To see if I'd like it."

Doyle studied his friend's face. He had the strongest feeling Bodie had a different, darker reason for making his request.

"Out with it, sunshine. What's really behind all this? You've always avoided the rough stuff before. Why change your mind now?"

Bodie's eyes tipped down just the slightest bit, and his face lost all expression. Doyle recognized the combination; Bodie was hiding something, something uncom- fortable, painful, or dangerous, or perhaps a combination of all three.

"Until you tell me everything, and I do mean everything," Doyle warned, "there's no bloody way I'm goin' through with it."

Bodie sighed. Doyle saw the tiny signs of mental struggle on the long, smooth face, saw the subtle loosening that betrayed the larger man's surrender.

"Merchant Marine." Bodie said it as though that were explana- tion enough.

"What about the Merchant Marine?"

"That's where I...I was a ruddy kid, Ray. A sixteen year old kid. What the hell did I know about men'? The birds, those I knew, those I understood, and I knew that men had at one another. And I'd heard of rape, but it was always a man abusin' a woman. I never dreamed it could happen between two men."

Doyle watched the subtle tightening about Bodie's eyes, the elusive shift in expression. He already had a good idea where the story was leading.

"You were raped."


Doyle exploded. "Dammit, Bodie, is that what you want me to do to you? Rape you?"

"Let me finish." Doyle fell silent; Bodie took a moment to gather his thoughts again, and continued. "It was my second voyage, but a new ship an' crew. We'd been at sea a week and didn't plan on hitting land again for another two months. The third mate was a fella named Paul. Paul Withers. He seemed nice enough to begin with, an' he was willin' to teach me everything I needed to know, so we palled around together. Workin', card games, star-gazin', swappin' stories about birds, that sort of thing. But on the eight night, when I tried to get back to my bunk after a night off-shift, drinkin'...he wouldn't let me go. Tricked me, drugged me beer, took me to a special cabin amidship. I was too spaced out to put up much of a fight, but I remember everything he did. He kept me there nearly a month, said the Cap'n wanted me broke in real good before he took a swive at me. Paul was gentle enough not to do any per- manent damage, but...to have my hands tied day and night, a gag in my mouth except when eating food...or him..., and a fella's pole up my arse from any and all directions...and to find my- self likin' it...The Cap'n took me, eventually, but he was a dumb clod, didn't have enough in him to keep it up...he beat me bad cause he thought I'd done it to him...wasn't sexy enough, I s'pose. Paul kept me the second month, just for himself...I got away just as soon as we sighted land....Killed him and jumped ship...and I made damn sure nothing of that sort ever hap- pened again, but...I've always wondered if I liked the restraint, the violence or the sex, or the man controlling me. I've always wondered why I liked it."

"And you trust me enough to give me that much power over you. Kee-rist, mate, that scares the hell out of me."

"Will you, Ray? Please."

Doyle was silent for so long, Bodie feared he wouldn't an- swer. Doyle finally sighed and rubbed down his wild auburn curls.

"Can I pick the time and place? The way we do it? All of it?"

"When you like, where you like."

"I'll do it my way," Doyle warned. "You won't see it comin', and you might not like some of what I do. You still want it that way?"

"Yes. I do."

Doyle sighed again. "Okay, mate. Sometime, someday, when you're not lookin'."


"You agreed. My way."

Bodie sighed, frustrated but content with an agreement.

Bodie plopped down on the edge of Doyle's bed and grunted at the headache that beat at the back of his forehead, a remembrance of the day's action. He watched Ray, on the other side of the bedroom, digging a clean shirt out of the oak bureau.

"You really want to go pub-crawlin' tonight, mate? I'm knack- ered."

"We promised Nancy and Claire we'd take em out for comin' up with that intel on Morris and Pickleton's fake stocks. Sides, we've got three whole days before we have to be at work again. You can rest then."

Bodie sighed. "I know. It's just...I'd hoped to have you all to myself tonight. I damn near lost you today."

"Get off! I damn near lost you! What sort of stupid stunt was that to pull? Throwin' yourself on top of me when a yell would've done just as well."

"Pickleton had you dead in his sights, angelfish. Besides," Bodie grinned, "with all those curls ahead of your ears, I was afraid you might not hear me."

Doyle waggled a warning finger at his mate. "You'll pay for that, sunshine. Just you wait."

"I've been waiting for two bloody months. Ray..."

"My time, my way, and the more you harp on it, the longer it'll be. Those're the rules, mate."

"I know...but it's hard."

"Look, Bodie. Let's just get out, enjoy some female compan- ionship, and relax. That day'll come someday. You just have to be patient."

Bodie didn't feel so good. It didn't help that Doyle took no notice of him, more interested in chatting up Claire than in tending his sick partner.

"So there he was, hung over and dressed in nothin' but the clothes he was born in, aimin' his gun at this wimpy old lady who walked in the door. Turns out Bodie wasn't in his flat at all. He was in the one next door!"

"Oh, Bodie, you didn't," Nancy giggled.

Bodie grunted, then wished he hadn't. It only accented the queasiness in his stomach.

Doyle really looked at him for the first time that evening. "Hey, mate, the story wasn't that bad."

"Don't feel good. Dizzy."

Doyle shook his head and pointed to the number of beer bot- tles that littered the table ahead of his partner. "I'm not surprised, considering how many lagers you've had tonight. Claire, think you and Nancy can make it home on your own?" He handed some money to the disgruntled blonde. Here's coach fare. I think I'd better get him home to sleep it off."

"Didn't have that many beers. Not drunk," Bodie insisted and sternly refused to move his head again. "Just dizzy"

"The size of the tab speaks for itself, mate."

"Not drunk, Ray."

He paid the tab, levered Bodie up, and helped the staggering man out into the warm night air. Unlocking and opening the Escort's passenger door proved a bit of a challenge, what with over half of Bodie's weight pressed down on one shoulder. Doyle at last succeeded in getting his partner firmly entrenched in the car and belted in.

"Not drunk," Bodie said as Doyle slipped behind the wheel and started the motor. "Wanna sleep."

"Sweet dreams, sunshine."

Bodie couldn't move.

He couldn't see, either.

And he couldn't yell.

What the hell is happening? Bodie struggled against the re- straints that bound his hands and feet, and sought to throw a call past the gag that covered his mouth. He strained his ears for any clues to how he'd come to be where he was.

He lay on a long padded cloth mat on the floor. By touch alone, he found his hands were bound with padded handcuffs to a short chain which in turn was locked to a ring in the floor. A similar chain ran from the ring to a leather collar around his neck. His ankles were bound with leather restraints, each to the other with less than a foot's worth of freedom between his heels.

He was, he noticed, still dressed.

He kicked his heels against the pad. The echo proved he was in an large room. The absence of street noise--or any noise at all, for that matter--proved he was either in a very deep basement or somewhere way out in the country.

What had happened? Had some old enemy come back to take a very nasty revenge? How had they got him? He couldn't remember anything beyond leaving the pub. Ray had put him into his car and -- .

Relief flooded over the ex-mercenary. This was Ray's promised surprise.

He lay back, content. His heart beat faster with a blend of excitement and fear. What could Doyle have in mind? Bodie had no clues at all.

A door slammed overhead. The pound of footsteps on a stair- way. More than one person. Some of the pleasure faded. Ray wouldn't drag anyone else into it, would he? If the story got out or someone later blackmailed the partners for their homosexual relationship, Cooley would have a calf and a half.

He heard a lot of disconnected shuffling, the slam of some- thing solid and heavy on a wooden table. The slither of chain. The swish of leather. The slosh of ice and water in a cooler. The whisper of clothing.

"You first or me?"

Bodie tensed; he didn't recognize the voice.

"I saw him first. He's mine."

Both voices, American-accented, spoke in low tones from the direction of the table. The first was deep, gruff, ghetto-accented. The other's accent was more western than eastern, the voice more cultured. He didn't recognize either one.

"Dammit, he gave me the order."

"You'll get your turn. The boss wants him to hang around a few days, know what's happening. You know how rough you get. You might kill him before the boss wants."

"Just so's you leave some for me."

Bodie heard sounds of movement, clicks and clanks as a chain was moved. Footsteps came towards him.

Though bound, gagged, and blind, Bodie was not totally help- less. Just as the man came within what Bodie prayed was his reach, the bound agent lashed out with both feet, hoping to take the man in the thighs or, better still, the crotch.

The man easily avoided the blind kick. He stepped inside Bodie's reach, caught the lacings between the bound man's ankles and yanked his legs straight. Bodie kicked and struggled but could not stop the man from securing his feet to another ring in the floor.

Bodie lay there, legs drawn straight, arms pulled above his head. Bound, gagged, and blind. And it wasn't Roy's voice.

A heavy chain clanked overhead as it was pulled through a pulley and secured with a snick of a padlock bolt.

Air hissed from the foam mattress. The man stood over Bodie, a foot on either side. Bodie struggled, resisting to the end, but he knew it was hopeless. He wanted to scream his fury and fear. He was sixteen all over again, helpless in a special cabin set amidships.

Hands caught the cuffs around his wrists. Cold chain slith- ered across his cheek between the blindfold and the gag; Bodie cringed away. Another snick of a lock closing, and the man moved off the mat. Bodie could only follow as the man hauled the chain up, lifting Bodie into place, hands bound over his head, feet still locked to a ring in the floor.

Hands grasped his shirt and yanked it open. The same hands pulled his undershirt out of his waist band; something chilling--and metal--brushed his bare stom- ach. Bodie froze, unmoving, as the sharp knife hissed through the cotton material from hem to throat. His assailant cut away his shirt and undershirt, unzipped his fly, and cut off his slacks. The hands moved to the last bit of clothing.

Bodie roared through the gag, fighting like a madman, but couldn't stop the man from cutting away his jocks.

Cold hands, rough and ridgy, grabbed his cock and pulled it straight. Bodie squirmed and screamed into the gag, but every attempt to pull himself free of the uncaring grip earned him a stab of pain in his groin. His assailant rubbed and yanked Bodie into a hard-on despite all he could do.

A mouth clamped onto his left tit, sucking hard. The hand on his cock never stopped stroking. Bodie could feel the tickle of fuzzy whiskers on his chest. A harsh, musky aftershave filled his nose. He was being raped, and it wasn't Ray's aftershave.

Ray, oh god, Ray, where are you?

Despairing of his own condition, Bodie worried for his friend; was Ray in some other part of the building, suffering the same treatment? Had they already--? Ray was slender, tight...if they took him hard...

The mouth left his tit, moving down until it closed around the tip of his cock.

Bodie thrashed in panic. His assailant knelt between his legs, mouth sucking, fingers guiding, exploring. Two fingers wiggled between his ass cheeks, pierced his asshole, and drilled deep; Bodie arched away and sobbed in impotent rage. His movements thrust his cock that much deeper into his rapist's mouth. The mouth sucked, the fingers fucked, and he could do nothing to stop it.

He heard footsteps on the stairs. Oh, god, what next?

"You first or me?"

"I saw him first. He's mine."

"Bloody ell!"

Bodie's assailant leaped away in the direction of the table. His voice--!

"Dammit he gave me the order."

"You'll get your turn. The boss--."

A sharp click, and the voice cut off in mid-sentence. Someone chuckled, a wry, embarrassed snicker.

The man came back and stood beside Bodie. Frozen in shock, unable to move, Bodie could only stand there, disbelieving, as the gag and blindfold were re- moved. Ray Doyle's face swam into his light-adjusted vision.


"Bloody recorder rewound and started up again."


Bodie stopped to really look at his partner. A silly chin- full of fake halloween whiskers hung half-on, half-off his face. A pan of ice water and a towel on the floor just beyond thrashing range explained the chilly-handed touch.

"But...your hands, they were rough--."

Doyle held his hands out, palms up. "Elmer's glue. Makes for real nice ridges."

"Damn you, Doyle! You sonofabitch! You uncaring, unfeeling, fuckin' bastard!"

Flint-hard emerald eyes met sparking midnight blue. "You asked for it, Bodie. You wanted to know if you liked the violence, the bondage, the sex, or the person. This was the only way to test the first two. Have your answer yet?"

"Damn you! Let me go! Let me fuckin' go!"


Bodie stopped thrashing against the padded cuffs and ankle restraints and stared at Doyle. His partner pulled off the fake beard and wiped the ridgy glue from his hands. The smaller man radiated stubborn refusal.

Satisfied that he had Bodie's full attention, Doyle repeated, "No. I will not let you go. You got the answer to your first two questions. That leaves two to go."

"Ray, uncuff me. Now."

"No. We've got three days of leave coming You're spending two of them down here. You can spend the third reporting to Cooley, drawin' me up on charges and demandin' another partner, but I'm givin' you what you asked for."

You'd rape me, then."

"You asked for it."

"You'd do it even if I asked you not to."

"Are you? Asking me not to?"

Bodie fell silent. He studied his partner through new eyes; Doyle's cruel, violent display was only that, a display. A front. An almost impossible front. He did- n't want to hurt Bodie. He wouldn't hurt him.


"Then what the hell are we arguin' about!"

Bodie chuckled. "Damned if I know."

"Then shut up and let's get on with it."

Bodie took a moment to study the room around him. It was, as suspected, a basement. A well-equipped, functional basement. Chains, whips, racks, hooks and metal ring, and an honest-to-goodness stocks in one corner. A four-poster bed stood at one side, restraint rings drilled into each post. A stone alter sat in the center of the room, iron rings drilled into one end down near floor level. Three tall, closed cabinets, a 36-inch console television, and a stand of some 100 video tapes stood along the far wall.

A set of stairs ran up to a thick wooden door, while a more modern entrance underneath lead to a small bathroom.

"Where the bloody hell are we?"

"South Sussex. An old mate of mine from the Met owns the place. I'm one of the few people who know he likes this sort of thing. I asked him if I could bor- row the cottage for a long weekend. Said I had a bird who liked country living and privacy. I don't think he even knows I know about this part of the house." He pointed towards the top of the stairs. "Secret door behind the larder. Stumbled on it one night when he held a birthday party for the commander. Was looking for a lager."

"A bird, ey?"

Doyle grinned. "Yeah. A turkey. And I'm starvin'."

Doyle knelt down in front of Bodie, took his cock back into his mouth, and squeezed both ass cheeks. Bodie moaned and met his friend with a steady thrust, losing himself in the pleasure. Doyle's mouth was hot, his tongue teasing as he worked his way around the ridged tip and along the veined sides of the shuddering shaft. Bodie wanted so badly to take Doyle's curls in his hands, to pull his lover's mouth down full on his throbbing shaft, but the cuffs held him rigid.

Doyle pulled back and moved away from his panting partner. "That was gratis. Free pleasure. >From now on, you pay for what you get. Two days, mate. I meant it."

Doyle stepped in close, crushing his mouth against Bodie's. Rough and deep, he forced the kiss--and Bodie's head--back until the larger man wheezed for breath. Doyle caught a tight handful of Bodie's short-trimmed hair, pulled his head back, and left a trail of kisses and love-bites down Bodie's neck and throat. Bodie cringed away when Doyle's teeth latched onto his left tit and bit down on the sensitive flesh.

Doyle wrapped his arms around his helpless mate's body and manhandled him around, keeping Bodie continually off-balance. Their cocks brushed together but never did more than frustrate the bound man. Doyle slapped Bodie's ass cheeks with an open palm, smacking the pale flesh.

Doyle backed away and started a slow circle, passing com- pletely around his bound and helpless partner. He caught up the discarded blindfold and forced it back around Bodie's eyes. Satisfied, he moved over to the chain hook and fed slack into the line.

"On your knees, you cock-sucking bastard," he commanded, his hands on Bodie's shoulders forced the larger man down with added violence. "I said get down there. You're goin' to earn anything you get out the next two days, and you're goin' to start right now."

Doyle moved to stand before Bodie, his cock positioned before Bodie's panting mouth.

"You're going to suck my cock, you understand that, you mis- erable berg? You're goin' to eat me alive. Make it good or I'll take a strap to your arse so fast it'll make your head spin." Before Bodie could respond, Doyle pushed his cock into the ex-merc's mouth. Bodie gagged a bit until he grew accustomed to the sensations of his lover's rod jab- bing into his mouth. His arms and legs still bound, his eyes blind, he could not anticipate, only react. Doyle thrust hard and steady, demanding a good, solid sucking. Bodie did what he could, scrolling his tongue around Doyle's hard flesh, tasting the musky, ripe flavor of his arousal.

Doyle's head drifted back, eyes closed in pleasure. "Yeah. Eat it, you bastard. Suck it. Yeah, that's it. You're learning."

Bodie's mouth was good, and his skilled tongue even better, but Doyle wanted something more substantial around him. He pulled himself free, regagged Bodie, removed the restraints around the larger man's ankles, and stepped back to the chain hook. He fed enough slack into the links to force Bodie's head and hands down near the ring in the floor.

With less than four inches of freedom between the hook in his collar, the bindings around his wrists and the steel ring, Bodie was effectively helpless. He knelt on the padded foam mat, braced on knees and elbows, his ass jutting up into the air, ready for inspection.

"Yeah, you've got a nice arse. Real nice." Doyle gave it a hard slap that made Bodie jerk and suck air around the gag. "Real nice arse."

Doyle went to one of the cabinets and removed a thin, lamb's wool-padded strap. He returned to the mat, gently swishing the lash through the air.

"A real nice arse. Too nice for the likes of you. We'll just have to do something about that, won't we?"

Bodie tensed, drawing himself together. Blinded and gagged, his head effectively bound to the floor, he arched away from the sound of the swishing belt.

Doyle slapped the lash down on Bodie's back. "Who the hell said you could move? Stay still, you bloody bastard, until I tell you to move."

Doyle brought the lash around again, striking Bodie's naked rear. Though the padded strip would leave no bloody, permanent mark, the angry red welt was tem- porary evidence of his serious intentions. Bodie cringed but tried to obey Doyle's command, yet every time he twitched, Doyle would berate him for moving, and bring the lash hissing around again, until Bodie's body from shoulder-blades to knees were ridged and red from the blows.

Deciding he'd carried that scenario far enough, Doyle lowered but held on the lash, moved onto the mate behind Bodie and spread his ass cheeks wide.

"Real nice arse. Real nice. The kind of arse I love to fuck. Come on, you cock-lovin' berk, stick your arse up. I said get it the fuck up!"

Doyle pressed the tip of his cock against the pucker of skin and firmly thrust in. He and Bodie had been lovers long enough that neither man's body resented that kind of intrusion. Bodie arched back, a willing sheath for Doyle's hot, swollen sword. Doyle gasped at the blazing heat of his mate's body, shuddering at the lightning bolts that shot through every nerve of his body. Every twitch and thrust blotted out the desire to breath, made it hard to sustain the moment.

He thrust in and out, a slow, steady, controlled pumping mo- tion. Every time Bodie tried to increase the pace, to speed things up, Doyle would pop his broad, muscled back with the lash. Sight of his partner, sightless, voiceless, and helpless, with no control whatsoever, did strange things to Doyle's own senses. The simple--simple?--pleasure of slowly fucking Bodie took on a new and wondrous sensualism. It took all of Doyle's self- control to keep himself from pushing them both over the edge. He didn't want to come, not yet. He had other plans for Bodie, plans that involved a mutual release.

Bodie screamed something into the leather gag and threw him- self around. Body language screamed desperation and desire, mixed with mindless frustra- tion and delight. Doyle pulled back, unlocking their bodies. He knelt there on his knees, not touching his lover, until both of them had wind and wit back in place.

Doyle took a leash and several other pieces of equipment from the first cabinet, and went to the bed. Once all was ready, he moved back to Bodie and pulled off the blindfold and gag. While the larger man blinked against the return of light, Doyle un- locked the collar and handcuffs from the ring, and clipped on the leash.

"Heel, you randy little spaniel. s time for your obedience lessons." He pointed to the bed. "Over there."

Bodie started to rise. Doyle kicked his feet from under him.

"I said, you're a randy little cocker spaniel. Act like one. On all fours."

Doyle forced Bodie to crawl over to the bed on his hands and knees. Once there, however, he yanked the larger man up onto the bed and laid him on his back, spread-eagle. He tied Bodie's arms to the corner of the headboard, then bound his ankles to the footposts. He secured the leash to the ornamental woodwork of the headboard.

Doyle spent the next ten minutes tormenting his partner with wet kisses that trailed from his sweaty forehead to the tips of his curling toes. He licked, sucked, and felt up every portion of Bodie's body but the part that demanded it most. The closest he ever came was a brief puff of breath that set Bodie's cock to quivering with frustrated de- sire.

Licks, kisses, and exploring fingers along his ribs made Bodie's entire body spasm. He screamed and fought the helpless pleasure; Doyle refused to ease off, though he did eventually transfer his attention to Bodie's flat, muscular stomach and hips.

"Ray, please. Please. Suck it, mate. Get me off. Don't leave me like this. It hurts."

"I'll suck it--or do whatever I want to do with it--when I'm good and damn ready."

Bodie sobbed against the torture of his swollen cock and thrashed about on the bed. Doyle realized he'd carried the game almost as far as he could without driving his partner over the edge. The demands of his own twitching, feverish cock had something to do with his decision.

Being smaller and tighter than his partner, Doyle took the precaution of retrieving a small tube of lubricating cream from the top drawer of the bedside table. Bodie roared against the cold gel against his bobbing shaft. Doyle treated his partner's cock, put the tube away, and straddled his mate's body.

Bodie watched, trembling, as Doyle carefully lowered himself onto the rigid, angry shaft. Doyle sighed, eyes closed in ultimate pleasure, as he willingly ac- cepted Bodie's cock. The sensation of coating himself in a furnace heat drove sight from Bodie's eyes and murdered his wits.

Fully impaled, Doyle waited until he'd recovered his senses before he slowly started to rock back and forth, teasing Bodie's shaft with unexpected twists and shifts. He tightened himself around the hard shaft, causing Bodie to scream and thrust upwards.

Their motions took on a practiced smoothness, a symphony of movement and pleasure. His entire body covered with a thin sheen of sweat, Doyle leaned forward and cupped Bodie's chest in his hands, teasing his tits and squeezing the rock-hard muscle. The change in angle sent a burst of new sensation through both men.

The strain of sustaining the action made Doyle's muscle feel rubbery with exhaustion, but the drive to push both of them over the edge kept him going long after he wanted to bring it to a speedy but less than suitable conclusion. He drew every bit of pleasure he could from the union, until Bodie spasmed and voiced a long, joyous cry.

Doyle felt his mate's cock shudder and stiffen, then pulse with the contractions of a massive orgasm. Bodie screamed and thrashed about, caught in a mind- imploding release made even more powerful by Doyle's continued movement. Doyle rode out the wave, feeling hot streams pulse into his body.

The sensation, aided by a hand around his own aching shaft, freed his own overheated desires. Scalding cream dotted Bodie's heaving stomach and chest. Both men bucked and pitched, carried over the edge by love and desire, until sanity itself threat- ened to fall away.

Doyle collapsed on top his helpless partner, panting. Caught on the far fringes of utter exhaustion, the smaller man found himself utterly unable to move. He lay there, the tip of Bodie's limp cock caught in his ass, until Bodie's slight movements freed him.

They lay together, gasping, until a small trickle of strength gave Doyle the ability to move again. He raised himself up enough to twist around and free Bodie's legs and arms, then pulled the foot-folded blanket up over both their bodies.

"Hey, what about me neck?" Bodie pointed at the collar and leash.

"Sorry, love," Doyle said as he cuddle up against Bodie's right side, wrapped inside Bodie's strong arms. "Two days. I meant it. I'm not through with you yet."

Doyle sighed and drifted off to sleep, his breath feathering Bodie's chest.

The ex-merc stroked his lover's back, smiled, and relaxed. Had he really wanted to, nothing could have prevented Bodie from unbuckling the collar and slipping free. The bondage was for appearances only, an appearance he willingly maintained.

Completely drained and weak as a day-old kitten, he laid back and made himself as comfortable as the collar would allow. Whatever else the next two days brought, he knew only that it would be two of the most memorable days of his life. With Ray controlling things, how could it be anything else?

-- THE END --

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