(a bit of fluff for Gervaise)

It was dark in the broom cupboard, and Doyle wasn't quite sure what was poking him from behind. Investigation was difficult, but twisting, with several muffled grunts, he found it to be merely an old-fashioned carpet cleaner. Opening his R/T, he said without ceremony "Next time you get to wait under the stairs, Bodie."

"I wouldn't fit," Bodie answered; Doyle could hear him grinning. That really annoyed him.

"Especially if you wouldn't fit," he snapped.

"You going to make me, sunshine?" Bodie's voice was wickedly suggestive.

"Shut up. Where is everybody, anyway?"

"Stupid bastards are all off following the false trail we set."

Doyle sighed.

"Yeah," Bodie said mournfully, "we were either too subtle or not subtle enough. All those little dewy-eyed recruits are very seriously investigating the other flat."

"I hope Murphy's having a terrible afternoon," Doyle said disgruntledly. "'Cos I am. Anyway, if they're busy, I don't have to stay bent up in this cupboard, do I? You just warn me when they're coming back -- "

"You can't do that," Bodie protested. "This is supposed to be a training exercise. Suppose I was shot before I could warn you?"

"Knowing you, Bodie, you'd expend your last breath croaking a warning to me -- which would go totally to waste because you'd have forgotten to switch your R/T on."

There was a pause. Wondering if he'd really hurt Bodie's feelings with the last comment, Doyle drew breath to apologise, when Bodie disarmed him by saying wistfully, "Wish I was in the cupboard with you, sunshine."

"It's cramped."

"Good."

"It's dark."

"Great."

"There are things poking at me."

"If I was there with you, there'd be one more."

"You sure no one's listening in?" Doyle asked, seized with sudden panic.

"Not even Alpha-1," Bodie said sourly. "Nothing's happening this end." His voice changed. "Stay put and I'll tell you a story, goldilocks."

Doyle chuckled. He found Bodie very nearly irresistible when he was wistful, and equally so when he was avuncular. "OK, Uncle Bodie, I'll be good. Tell me a story."

"Are you sitting comfortably?"

"No," said Doyle, with a grunt, "but don't let that stop you."

There was a pause. "I'm touching you," Bodie said, and Doyle, who had meant to snicker and tell Bodie that a story was supposed to start Once upon a time, stopped himself, oddly touched.

"I'm holding you next to me with my arm round your shoulders, and I'm touching you. I'm running my fingers over your nipples, I can feel them tightening under your shirt, like little hard buttons, and you're wriggling a bit. I'm kissing you, tasting you, and you're staring up at me with those wide green eyes.

"I'm unbuttoning your shirt. You're not trying to stop me. I can feel your ribs through your skin - you're ticklish there, so I stroke you slowly, firmly, not letting you wriggle away. Your skin's like silk, like velvet. Feels good.

"I'm kissing you, sucking at your mouth, licking you; I'm kissing the side of your neck, making you squirm. I'm blowing into your ear, soft and wet, chewing -- gently -- on your earlobe. You're going all pink, and making noises, but you like it.

"I'm stroking your cock through your jeans. The denim's worn thin just there, and your cock's bulging at it. I'm unbuttoning your jeans. You've got a beautiful cock, sunshine, good enough to eat. Undo your jeans."

Doyle was fumbling at the zip before he thought about it -- realising that he wasn't wearing his old Levi's, as he was in the story.

"Put your hand on your cock and stroke it. Feels good, doesn't it? I'm touching you. I'm stroking you. Very lightly, and you want more, but I'm holding you still so you can't try and bring yourself off. Just one finger, stroking you, and you're moaning."

Doyle was moaning, by this time; Bodie's voice in his ear was soft, sensual.

"You're lovely when you want to come, all pink an' rosy. I'm stroking your balls, I don't want to bring you off too soon, I'm enjoying the look of you too much, all tense and straining, your cock big and hard and swaying as you moan. I'm kissing your mouth. I can feel you trembling. I'm holding your cock in my hand. Very lightly."

"Please -- " Doyle said out loud.

"Yeah, soon. I'm holding you. I'm moving my hand on you, up and down your cock, and I'm nuzzling the side of your neck, biting at you. You're all strung out, all of you rigid, every inch of you beggin' for it -- " there was a pause, and then Bodie said "Come on. Come. Now."

Doyle came. After a minute's deep breathing, he said shakily "Thanks, Bodie."

"Any time, sunshine."

"Love you."

"Me too."

---

Cowley switched off the R/T. They were good lads. Damn good.

-- THE END --

---

AUTHOR'S NOTE:First line and title suggested by Gervaise. Storyline -- ahem -- thrashed out while phoning my faithful collabrador Ann Johnson, whom I am missing horribly. See what being bored in Basingstoke will drive a woman to?