Ray Doyle snuggled sleepily up to the back of his lover, the hard muscles rippling, letting him know that the other man wasn't asleep either. Sliding his hand up the strong flank and over the pale, hairless chest to the powerful neck, he stroked the short dark hair, noticing the amount of grey there was there now.

"Getting grey, love," he murmured softly, continuing to smooth the grey strands.

"'m getting older."

"Not so much older as better."

The low voice chuckled, "I'm very glad you think so." The buttocks pressed against him thrust back a bit in invitation.

"You want more."

"Always want more of you, love."

Doyle kissed the back of his neck, sliding down the bed to lick his spinal column. Ray's fingers trailed down to the dark crevice, touching the puckered muscle; a moan of approval came from his lover along with a tiny thrust that tried to take the finger in.

"Wait for it, love."

"Gonna need some more of this, hmm?" A tube of KY was shoved into his hand. He used it generously, slicking the tight channel with two and then three fingers. His lover moaned and mewled, driving back against the invading fingers.

"Ray, please now. Please."

"All right, sunshine, over you go, blue eyes." Ray helped him over onto his stomach, and then to his knees. Positioning himself on the lax opening, he pushed into the centre of his lover's body and it opened for him. They had been together so long, been doing this for too many years for there to be any pain. A long groan of pleasure followed the piercing.

"Oh, Ray it's good. So bloody good."

Ray moved in and out of his beloved, the pleasure intense, swirling and washing over him in vast waves, building and climbing until he could not hold back any more. Orgasm crashed over him with such force he thought he would die from the joy of it. He heard a deep wail of ecstasy as his lover came too, then there was nothing.

---

Waking with a start as he came hard into his sheets, Ray whimpered in disappointment -- another wet dream. Leaving him feeling empty and bereft as it always did, he knew it was because there was something or someone missing from his life. For years now he'd had the same dream of a mystery lover, someone he'd been with for years, someone who loved him to the exclusion of all others. Something he'd never had and at this point in his life, didn't even hope for any more. Except for the dream.

He'd never seen this lover's face, although he did know he had dark, blue eyes and a wide pouting mouth, dark hair, and that his body was pale, rock hard and as close to perfect as you could get while still being human. The man was trained and in fine shape, but Ray had no idea what he was trained for.

When the dreams began, 15 years ago or more, the hair had been jet black, but as time had gone on, it became threaded with grey. His dream lover had aged with him. Sitting up in his large, lonely bed, Ray ran a hand through his own greying curls.

Fifteen years was a long time to have any dream. He thought about talking to someone about it, but he knew it was just his subconscious telling him he needed a mate. He'd never been able to establish a relationship with anyone, male or female. After last year, when he'd made a fool of himself with Ann Holly, he'd pretty much decided that it was a lost cause.

He didn't really remember when the dreams began, sometime before he finished art school, he thought, after he decided not to go to the Met. He'd been on the verge of giving up his art career and becoming a cop, having decided there was no future in art for him. Laughing softly at the thought of himself as a uniformed PC, he recalled that success had come quickly after he'd sold his first painting, which happened immediately after he'd been accepted by the Police. Now he was considered one of the best contemporary artists in England. One of his paintings sold for more than most coppers made in a year, but now and then he wondered if he'd missed something by staying with art, rather than going on to help people.

Sighing softly, he pushed himself out of his cold, sticky bed, wondering what his housekeeper would think about yet another set of messy sheets.

There was a knock on the door. Reaching for his robe, he said, "Come," as he tied the sash around him.

His housekeeper, Maggie, stuck her head in the door. "Sir, there's a CI5 agent downstairs."

"What's he want?"

"To talk to you about Derek Jones."

"Any idea why?"

"Seems he's involved with something illegal."

Shaking his head, Ray smiled. "I can't stand Derek. I wonder why they want to talk to me?"

"I have no idea."

"Tell him I'll be down presently," Ray told her, heading for his bathroom. He needed to clean up before he could possibly see anyone.

"Very good, Mr Doyle." She shut the door quietly.

---

Ray could not explain the excitement that simmered through him as he headed down the stairs. He entered the library, and the CI5 agent turned away from the window as he came through the door.

"Mr Doyle, I'm William Bodie from CI5," the agent said, holding out his hand -- his smile freezing on his face as recognition lit the dark blue eyes.

Ice water washed over Ray, numbing him into speechlessness as he recognised his dream lover.

-- THE END --

Originally published in Variations on the them of B and D, Keynote Press, 1997