One Night in Bangcock
by Anonymous 1
(With Apologies to Murray Head)
One night in Bangkok makes a hard man humble
Not much between despair and ecstasy
One night in Bangkok and the tough guys tumble
Can't be too careful with your company
I can feel the devil walking next to me
Ray Doyle stopped in the hallway of his flat to check his appearance in the large mirror hanging there. Bodie had often accused him of having it for vanity's sake. He was right, Doyle admitted with a self-assured smile as he surveyed himself critically. The jeans were just right -- not old, not new -- tight-fitting. Reaching down, he adjusted his genitals, the gentle swell clearly outlined by the faded blue fabric. His hands moved to the snaps of his contoured cowboy shirt, unfastening still another one, exposing the upper half of his chest. Experimentally, his fingers snaked inside the soft blue cotton to pinch hard his left nipple. Thrusting his chest forward, he noted with pleasure that the puckering was discernable even through the double folds of the cloth pocket. Running his fingers through fine chest hair, he hefted the heavy silver chain he sometimes wore, playing with its warm weight as he scanned his reflection. Displeased by the puffiness beneath his eyes, Doyle put on the discarded sunglasses lying on the table below the mirror. A man of mystery now, Doyle smiled as he combed through his newly washed curls, enjoying the feel of their coarser, yet still silky texture. Licking his lips, he decided he'd pick him up. Turning then, he removed his brown leather bombardier jacket from a nearby hook. Before slipping into its pliant folds, he removed his ID from his inside pocket. Where he was going tonight, no one should know him.
Across town, a similar scene was being enacted at Bodie's flat. Dressed in black leather motorcycle boots and tight - equally black - leather pants, he debated the wisdom of wearing a polo sweater. Since it was to be a night for casting aside everyday inhibitions, he finished by adding only a smooth, black leather jacket. Scrutinizing himself, he preened for the mirror, pleased with the image he projected. Black leather gloves completed the outfit. Blowing himself a kiss, he turned to leave. A flash of red caught his eye. Scowling at his reflection, he decided no one would begrudge him the touch of whimsy. Breaking the stem of a carnation, he sniffed appreciatively before affixing it to his jacket's fold-over flap. Quite satisfied then, he collected keys and money from his wallet, tucking his CI5 ID into a nearby drawer for safety's sake.
His recent move put the Club Bangcock quite a distance from Ray Doyle's flat. Unaccountably tense, he glanced at his watch while waiting for a traffic signal to change. "Ten o'clock," he murmured. Looking into the rearview mirror before accelerating, he noticed the flashing neon of a pub sign. Since he was new to the neighbourhood, he decided to go in for a quick beer before proceeding to his real destination. Besides, he told himself, it'd be a chance to check out the new territory, see if it was a place he could take Bodie to some evening after work. Smiling into the darkness of the warm spring night, he thought about the book they were ostensibly composing for the benefit of spies everywhere. "The CI5 Guide to London Pubs: All the Best Places to Get Laid and Drunk," Doyle said outloud, laughing at the thought of what they had already done in the name of research.
Shaking his head in amusement as he whipped the small car into a parking spot, Doyle's attention turned to his absent partner...long, lethal Bodie. The thought of that taut body and those sapphire eyes brought a tightness to his groin.
They'd been teamed only a few months, but already Doyle knew: he was in love with his partner. The attraction had been there from the first moment he had seen Bodie, although then, he'd attributed it simply to magnetism. He'd walked into the stuffy room where the new recruits and older agents sat waiting for Cowley to open the month long training session. Bodie, already with CI5, had been sitting in the very center of the room. Though he'd never seen him, Doyle had known instantly who Bodie was. No one, Doyle noted, dared sit near the large man, rebuffed, apparently, by the aura of menace he radiated if someone approached. Never one to ignore a challenge, he'd taken the seat on Bodie's immediate right. Bodie had given him, the obvious new recruit, the once-over and smiled slightly, a response to the way Doyle had preened when twenty-four pairs of eyes focused on him.
Cowley'd come into the room then, breaking the strange spell Bodie had cast. That had provided Doyle with his first opportunity to study the man beside him. Impeccably dressed in a pair of dark brown trousers, matching polo sweater and a camel coloured cashmere jacket that accentuated, rather than obscured, the lean lines of his hard body, Bodie looked as if he'd escaped from the pages of a fashion magazine. The casual posture belied the active eyes which missed nothing. It was, however, the man's hands -- squarish, solid, graceful -- that first captivated Doyle.
Years of detective training had taught Doyle about hands. Bodie's hands were well manicured, slightly tanned, reflecting an attention to appearance. The small, almost invisible scars near the right wrist and down the left thumb made Doyle wonder about Bodie's past, what action he'd seen to earn them. The way he held the hands revealed both strength and the capacity for gentleness. It was that contrast that made Doyle want to know Bodie. From the first, he'd wondered what it would be like to have those hands touch him. And even then, Bodie seemed able to read his thoughts, for the fingers of the right hand were resting comfortably on his left forearm when Doyle'd roused from his musings. He'd known then that Bodie was a toucher; those hands would be on him frequently.
There'd never been any question, Doyle realised, that Bodie would be his partner. He'd seen the flicker of avid interest in Cowley's eyes as he watched them discreetly, had seen confirmation of the fact in Bodie's own blue eyes the moment he'd dared to enter Bodie's personal space. His own instincts as he'd quickly surveyed the room's other occupants had told him that only Bodie might be capable of working with him; no one else had the necessary arrogance.
In retrospect, Doyle decided that first meeting had told him much about Bodie. He'd seen evidence of Bodie's self-confidence, as strong as his own, experienced the way Bodie could control a crowd through sheer force of projected personality, heard the famed black humour in an obscenely whispered aside, been amazed at the ability to charm Cowley when the none-too-quiet comment elicited only a mildly amused glare. Most important, though, he'd seen the unfocused potential that must have made Cowley pull Bodie in in the first place.
The subsequent training exercises had strengthened, rather than destroyed, those tenuous first impressions. Their first assignments together had revealed Bodie's less obvious traits of courage and loyalty; Doyle had felt the power Bodie could have over him if the man but asked. Already, they moved as one when working. Even Cowley had been impressed by the quality of their young partnership.
Only a few days ago, Doyle'd overheard -- eavesdropped on -- a conversation between his boss and Jack who'd expressed his own disbelief that they'd finally found a partner for Bodie.
"Why'd you team them, George?"
"A hunch. When I saw Doyle take that seat next to our resident bad boy, I knew..."
"Coincidence, George."
"No, Jack. I don't believe in coincidence. Chemistry -- aye, it was that from the first time they spotted one another. They've sensed it too, already used it, begun to develop it."
Bodie had joined him the hall at this point, leaning against him, peering over his shoulder as they both shamelessly listened in.
"Bet they're into the scotch," Bodie'd whispered, the words tickling Doyle's ear, sending an unexpectedly erotic shiver through him.
They'd have successfully evaded notice if Bodie hadn't leaned over even further, intent upon peeping around the corner. The unexpected weight shift sent them both tumbling to the floor, earning them Cowley's wrath. Watching Bodie extract them from the awkward situation had been a lesson in tactful manipulation and an affirmation of the widely held notion that Bodie was indeed the Old Man's blue-eyed boy.
"Want him to be mine," Doyle told himself as his thoughts returned to the present. Two months, twenty-eight days and fifteen hours, all the time he'd known Bodie, and yet he was positive that he wanted, needed Bodie for more than just their partnership, more than just friendship.
Thinking back, Doyle recalled the precise moment he'd discovered he was in love with Bodie. He'd been out with the stunning redheaded dancer who lived next door to him. She'd been asking him for a date for several weeks. They'd made it to bed, but her wiry frame had rekindled an old urge for the hard lines of a male body, and Bodie's very male body in particular. Lying awake in her arms afterwards, he'd realised that only thoughts of Bodie had carried him through the performance.
With a sigh, Doyle acknowledged that tonight's nervous tension was due to his decision to return to an old haunt -- the Club Bangcock. Fully aware of the fact that he was sublimating his desire for Bodie, Doyle opened the door and left the isolation of his car.
As he entered the smoky local, Doyle noted the inquisitive glances from both men and women, sizing him up. Striding purposefully to the bar, he ordered a beer. Using the next few moments to conduct his own survey of the pub, he observed the abundance of pretty barmaids and the ubiquitous dart board, sensed the quiet camaraderie of the patrons. What pleased him most, however, was the open stare from a gay couple he spotted in a corner.
Drinking his beer slowly, he let his thoughts drift into contemplation of tonight's potential. Sustained by well-placed bribe money, the Club Bangcock was the most uninhibited in London. Divided into pleasure wings, the old house could provide anything to fulfill a man's desire from leather and chain bondage to romantic cuddling.
Doyle reflected on the last time he'd been there, two years ago. High from a line of coke he occasionally did in those days, he'd moved naked from one room to the next, finally settling into an orgy of sweaty legs and probing fingers. Released from the high strung sexual tension then, he'd gradually proceeded deeper into the depths of the pleasure palace, seeking a man to master his tensile strength and hot temper. Inhibition left him as he opened the door to his darkest fantasy -- bondage to men who could torture him into submission and then ecstasy. He'd never understood where the desire for that adventure had come from. The night had left him bruised, battered and frightened by the sex that had drained him of desire and bequeathed to him the broken cheekbone that fascinated women...and Bodie, he added, smiling to himself.
Ultimately, Doyle noted, finishing the last of his beer, the wild night had satisfied the need for abject subjugation once and for all. He was stronger for it, having explored the limits of his own black imaginings. Tonight, he mused upon leaving the pub, he was bent on seduction.
Almost automatically, his thoughts focused on the enticement of Bodie, a plan he'd been working on more frequently as the days passed. Recognising the feral strength of the predator in Bodie, Doyle knew from his own experience that Bodie would be susceptible to a well plotted inveiglement. Several women had succeeded with Bodie in that way where their more passive sisters had failed.
Climbing into his car, Doyle finally headed for the Club Bangcock, his mind enveloped in the elaborate blueprint of seduction. The one unknown element, he acknowledged, was Bodie's own preference. Surely, Doyle thought, a man of Bodie's sensuality would be receptive. But the rumours of past rape, and the cold smile of a lie on Bodie's lips had made him hesitate.
This morning, however, he had caught the blue eyes openly appraising his body in the locker room. When the eyes met, Bodie's gaze had silently dared him to try, suggesting as he broke contact that he was worth the effort. "Arrogant bastard," Doyle muttered with a sigh that bespoke his entrapment in the web Bodie had spun. Desiring more than just the taut body, with its corded muscles, Doyle returned to his strategy, designed to capture the elusive essence of a man he knew would not be afraid to love him, should he choose. That he did choose was Doyle's goal. Tonight, he thought as he parked the car near the club entrance, was a prelude, a preparation, a trial run. What he did not count on was testing those techniques on Bodie himself.
Despite close proximity to the Club Bangcock, Bodie found himself reluctant to drive directly there. Instead, he drove aimlessly, his thoughts turning inevitably to Ray Doyle. A surge of desire shot through him, eliciting a string of curses. "Damn you, Doyle, for doing this to me," he said to the empty seat next to him. It wasn't Doyle's fault, he knew, although his partner was guilty of being a flagrant flirt. Pounding his fist against the steering wheel, he focused again on the road ahead of him, the concentration freeing his mind to think. Emotions swirled through him, a maelstrom of wanting, unfulfilled needs, lustful desires and love threatening to obliterate logical thought processes. Where Doyle was concerned, there was no such entity as a logical thought, Bodie conceded. Forcing himself, he began the litany of review he'd been lost in for days now. Again, he cursed Doyle for making him think about this; he hated self-analysis.
They'd been partners a mere few months. "No," Bodie whispered, aware of precisely how long it had been. "Two months, twenty-eight days..." glancing at his watch's luminescent dial, "fifteen hours." From their introduction in Cowley's office, under the full glare of the Old Man's appraisal, he'd lusted after the lithe body of Ray Doyle.
Love had come later. "Only a week later," Bodie said aloud, recalling the training course that had been designed to whip them into shape and teach two loners to share. It'd been remarkably easy, learning to work with Doyle whose methods were simple and logical. Respect had come from the gymnasium floor where Doyle had refused to admit sure defeat, from the cafeteria where time spent talking had revealed the sharp, acerbic wit, from the night-long walk and talk session they'd had when attempts to sneak out for a beer at the local had left them locked out of their respective bedrooms, from the fact each had clandestinely stolen a thorough read-through of the other's classified file, from the shared hatred of Macklin, from myriad small moments, Bodie concluded.
Their first assignment had converted lust into love as he'd watched Doyle help the scared children, threatened by an indiscriminate bomber. His tender touches, soft smiles and gentle manner had reached a deeply buried chord, a rarely acknowledged need for affection. "For love," he corrected himself.
"Damn you to five hells, Doyle," Bodie shouted. "Then damn yourself to the same set of hells, Bodie, for falling for him," he added quietly. A familiar feeling welled within him. He was caught between the always denied, virtually ignored, desperation for a companion -- someone to love him, no matter what -- and the trapped feeling he had whenever love threatened. Having spent a lifetime proving himself self-sufficient, he momentarily hated Doyle for having destroyed that carefully fabricated facade that was his independent front. "And it only took him two months, twenty-eight days and fifteen hours," he acknowledged with a deep sigh. The truth was he needed Doyle, wanted him. "Face it, Bodie. You love him."
Stopping for a red light, Bodie glanced over at the car beside him. A couple, obviously returning from a night on the town, were kissing. As he had for the millionth time that day, Bodie wondered what it would be like to possess Doyle, to touch whenever he wanted, to run his tongue over the picture perfect lips, to caress that damaged cheekbone which tantalized him with its mysterious past, to fondle the well-shaped buttocks, to comb his fingers through the mop of silken curls, to be able to claim Doyle...and even, be taken by him, held in what would be an embrace as strong as his own, loved by a man whose emotions were as fierce as his own. "Love, Bodie. You're in love, you stupid, silly sod," he told himself as the light changed.
With another sigh, Bodie accepted that, pondering next what he intended to do about it. A night of anonymous action at the club would help sublimate the desire for Doyle's wiry body --- at least he hoped so as he now headed down streets he knew would lead him to his destination. Something had to weaken the lust that welled within him while lying alone in a cold bed, holding his cock, working it as he imagined the knowing hands to be Doyle's long-fingered ones rather than his own.
"Not ready for this," he muttered, acknowledging the deep- seated source of his fear. He loved Doyle, desperately wanted Doyle to love him in return. But love was costly. It always meant compromises, and more important, the loss of independence. That, above all else, frightened him. His sense of independence, both physically and emotionally, was one he valued highly. The few times he'd sacrificed it on the altar of love, he'd suffered tremendously. And in this job, with death always nearby, to become involved could be emotional suicide, especially for him.
The intensity with which he loved, once committed, would lead him to invest all; he'd survived the other loves of his life, but each time, he'd been left colder, emptier. Experience had not prepared him for a love as profound as this with Doyle might be. Already, the man had become so important to him that Bodie couldn't imagine not having Doyle. What would happen, what would he feel after five years of a loving relationship if Doyle was shot down by a sniper's bullet and died in his arms? The thought sent a cold shiver through him.
"No. Better to stay uninvolved," he said aloud, already sensing the futility of the admonition. He would eventually have to decide if his independence, his most essential tool of self- survival, would be worth the joy of having Doyle, no matter how short the time they might have together. Ruefully, he noted that the question was already when, not if. His heart, it seemed, had made its decision.
With a sigh, he pushed thoughts of Doyle from his mind, trying to prepare himself for the night he had planned. One, he thought, that would temporarily dispell the aching need for Doyle, or at least reduce the passionate lust to a manageable level. Hoping sex alone would buy him time, Bodie arrived at the club filled with an anticipation that lasted until he spotted Doyle's car. Trepidation replaced the anticipation, even though he was not particularly surprised to find his partner here; Doyle, he knew from reading his file, swung both ways. Feeling he should leave, but aware of the implications of Doyle's presence -- and the possibilities -- Bodie squared his shoulder and left the safety of his car, not ready for the upcoming confrontation, but wanting it nonetheless.
Loving Doyle, living with him... "Hell, even working with him is a bleedin' pain," Bodie muttered into the dark. "Why should I want more?" he asked himself, his mind already racing over the reasons why: the smile that warmed him with its radiance, the competitiveness that forced him to be his best, the soft expression in the green eyes when they shared a moment of madness, the fact that Doyle was too strong to be steamrollered like a one night conquest, the way Doyle flirted outrageously with him, making him feel as if he were the most important person in Doyle's world, and the silent promise he'd seen only this morning in those eyes that said Doyle wasn't afraid to take him on, to love him... Bodie's pace quickened.
When his eyes grew accustomed to the darkened environment of the club's interior, Ray Doyle decided the first order of business was to check out what was euphemistically called the meat parade. Men seeking men for a brief encounter or the whole evening collected in the long corridor that fed the many wings and stairwells. In the tastefully decorated hall, they could ogle others obviously present for the same purpose. Doyle stood back in a shadow, leaning against a wall, enjoying the show, the smell of men hot for sex. Sizing up several interesting candidates, he unaccountably hesitated, concerned at the last moment that his prime target might have a disease he didn't want -- if the small, almost hidden sore at the corner of the man's lips was any indication. In the meantime, his other choice had been acquired by a tall, burly man searching for a pet. With a shrug, Doyle focused on the new arrivals.
About to abandon the almost campy performances in favour of anonymous action in one of the nearby rooms, Doyle paused when he heard a familiar voice, speaking seductively to a short, but handsome, redheaded man. Peering cautiously out of the shadows, Doyle recognised the unmistakable form of his partner. Surveying the leather-clad body, Doyle felt his cock stir, begin to stiffen. Watching Bodie proposition another man, Doyle thought, was like watching a panther stalk its prey. The gentle crinkling sound of the leather as Bodie moved to touch the well-chiseled facial features of the other man made Doyle want the hard-on-hard sensation of Bodie's body in black leather all for himself.
Fear, not of the menace in Bodie's body language, but of what he wanted to do with - and to - the man who was his partner made him hesitate. A deep breath cleared his mind. "I'm not ready for this," Doyle told himself. And yet, impersonal sex with a stranger while Bodie himself was nearby seemed like such a waste...to consider Bodie as a lover...the thought sent a shiver of desire through him. Doyle risked another glance at Bodie. Catching sight of the red carnation, Doyle stifled his laughter. "Only Bodie..." he whispered, amused and in love with the man who could - would - add a flower to black leather.
Vacillating, Doyle elected to have a drink first, before making any hasty decisions. Pursuing one's partner could have very serious ramifications. It could ruin a friendship that promised to be the best he'd ever had; it could get him killed, or worse, it could get Bodie killed. Stepping out of the shadows, he carefully kept his back to Bodie, bending his back to Bodie, bending his head so that the obvious, giveaway curls wouldn't be too visible.
The movement, however, caught Bodie's trained eye. He'd seen Doyle right away. Though the shadows had obliterated the irregular facial features, the head of wild hair was unmistakable, even in the dim light. Finding Doyle here had destroyed his need for a night of impersonal fucking; no one would arouse him when he could have Doyle himself. Knowing his partner had been watching him, Bodie wondered if Doyle were feeling the same way. Following Doyle's retreat, Bodie pondered the sixth sense he already had for finding Doyle in a crowded room or a pile of rubble from a bombed building...just about anywhere. Cursing Cowley for providing him with such temptation, Bodie brushed off the questing hand of the attractive redhead. The predator's instinct on edge, Bodie set off in pursuit of the only prey that held allure.
From a far corner of the bar, he watched Doyle gulp down a beer. "Too damn beautiful for your own good," he said to himself, reveling in the freedom to actually stare at his partner's sexy body. Such opportunities were too rare. The lean grace intoxicated Bodie as no alcohol could. When Doyle left the crowded room, Bodie again followed him, curious as to which of the many pleasures Doyle would select.
Doyle, for his part, was lost in thought. He'd hoped Bodie hadn't spotted him, but that strange feeling he had whenever Bodie was nearby -- watching -- had stayed with him in the bar. Realising that if Bodie was indeed observing him, he didn't yet want to be caught, Doyle refrained from glancing back as he moved down the now packed parade corridor, his pace quickening the further he went. The small hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as he sensed Bodie's continued presence. Swiftly, he made up his mind, suddenly seeking the anonymous shelter of the glory holes. Ducking into an empty cubicle, he stood for a moment trying to catch his breath, excited by the fear of pursuit.
Content for the moment to play the safe game, ignoring the fact both knew he'd been seen by the other, Bodie went around to the room adjoining the one Doyle had entered. A naked man knelt there, ogling Doyle's lithe, clothes-covered body, waiting with eager anticipation for Doyle's cock to be thrust through the hole. The pale blond glanced up when Bodie entered, about to protest. The hard look on Bodie's face strangled any coherent thought the man might have had. Without a word, Bodie suggested that the cocksucker might find his pleasure elsewhere. Openly awed by the black leather vision, the man did as he'd been silently ordered, his last sight that of a feral smile on Bodie's handsome face.
Alone now, Bodie turned his attention to Doyle who was at last ready. Bodie bit down on his own leather-covered finger as he watched with wide eyes.
Doyle, aware of his role as the teaser, caressed the obvious bulge in his jeans even as he reached under his shirt to rub his nipples. After a few protracted moments of self-eroticism, Doyle, who could not see through the room's opaque walls, nonetheless stared pointedly at the man he knew was watching -- hoping, trusting that it was Bodie. Without removing his jacket or sunglasses, he pulled his shirt free of his waistband. Pushing aside the clothing, he bared his chest with its now firm nipples. As he pressed against the cool glass of the one-way mirror, Doyle ground his crotch into the hard surface.
On the other side, Bodie drew in a ragged breath, already too aroused by the wanton abandon he read in his partner's body language. He shifted his own stiffening cock, willing his cockring to slow the flow of blood.
Excited almost beyond control by the stimulation and the thought of Bodie's pouting lips waiting for him, Doyle finally reached down to unfasten his belt. Slowly then, he unzipped his pants.
Bodie's eyes grew wider when he saw that Doyle wore no underwear.
After shoving and wiggling his jeans down to his ankles, Doyle reached for his throbbing, fully erect cock. Very deliberately, he licked one hand, applying it to his hot flesh. Gently he pulled at his distended phallus, willing himself to wait. When he'd tortured himself -- and Bodie -- enough, he thrust his pulsing cock through the hole designed to join him with the other room's occupant.
Instantly, Bodie knelt to his task, intent upon making Doyle pay for the long moments of masturbation that were testing the limits of his endurance. He began by tracing a leather-gloved finger over the engorged vein that ran the length of Doyle's shaft. Slowly, he rimmed the underside of the pink cockhead before drawing his finger over the slit. The quivering response made him lick his lips, and then his moisture covered fingertip eagerly. Finally, he leaned over to kiss the cock as Doyle tried, in vain, to push himself further through the small aperture. Using every technique he'd ever learned, Bodie brought his partner to the brink twice, each time preventing the climax Doyle was fighting for, teaching the cockteaser on the other side of the mirror that the line between despair and ecstasy was indeed a fine one.
Torso pressed against the glass, Doyle cursed Bodie even as he desired the effect of those lips, the loving skill with which he was being touched confirming that it was indeed Bodie. Wrenching himself away after Bodie denied him a second time, Doyle knelt to stick his lips through the hole. Hungrily, Bodie devoured him, biting his lips as he invaded the waiting, open mouth. "Bodie, you sadistic bastard," Doyle whispered urgently when he broke away from the demanding lips.
Bodie's response was another rough kiss.
When he withdrew this time, Doyle replaced his mouth with his aching cock. A gloved hand held him as Bodie's lips sucked him hard, bringing him to the flashpoint almost at once. Grateful for the solid support of the cool, mirrored wall, Doyle slumped as Bodie's tongue lapped up every drop of fluid it could find, the delicate swabbing a marked contrast to the forcefulness of an instant ago. The now gentle touch cut through Doyle's languor confirming his initial thoughts about the capabilities of Bodie's hands, their ability to be both tender as well as brutal. A shiver shook him as he acknowledged that Bodie had stolen his heart. Idly, he wondered if there was a place for love at the Club Bangcock.
Bodie, almost beyond the limits of his control, kissed the limp cock still presented for his attention. The fact that Doyle had remained in position despite orgasmic lethargy told him his partner wanted whatever he had to give, but Bodie still wondered if that included love. After kissing the depleted cocktip again, Bodie whispered loudly through the opening, "Doyle."
Rousing himself, Doyle slid down to kiss Bodie, this time taking command, returning the electrifying kiss Bodie had given him only moments ago.
"Outside," Bodie managed between the kisses that left him on the edge of his own climax. Running his tongue over Doyle's jagged front tooth one last time, Bodie tore himself away from the hole. His eyes, however, were glued to the indolent figure still leaning heavily against the glass.
With fluid grace, Doyle finally stood, hauling his pants up to fasten them once more. He knew intuitively that Bodie was still watching. Playing to the audience of one, he rubbed a hand over his sated cock nestled again in the denim folds. Then his hands caressed his own ass, moving over it with a tantalizing slowness, hoping he'd repaid Bodie in small measure for his teasing. Indicating the door with his thumb, Doyle spun then to leave.
Swiftly, Bodie gathered himself together, denying the burning in his groin. He met his partner outside in the corridor. Ignoring the ogling, the curious stares, he stood looking at Doyle, unsure suddenly if the man was still his to touch. Carefully, he removed his gloves, tucking them into the waistband of his pants. With steady fingers that belied the nervous tension coursing through him, he reached over to remove Doyle's sunglasses, certain as he did so that the answers to his questions would lie in the green eyes. Filled with trepidation, Bodie's eyes met Doyle's. The heavy-lidded, sated expression sent chills through him. He'd seen that look only twice before in other eyes, other lovers.
Doyle stood mutely watching Bodie's face as fear, understanding and a shy look of awareness vied for dominance. Amazed, he caressed Bodie's smooth cheek. Bodie grasped Doyle's wrist, moving the palm of the extended hand to his lips, kissing it tenderly. Completely oblivious to the romantic scene he was creating, Bodie then pulled Doyle into his arms for a first tentative kiss born of love rather than lust.
Melting into the larger body, Doyle learned the lean lines anew. His hands slid down the leather-clad back to cup Bodie's ass, bringing his partner's groin into even closer contact.
Groaning, Bodie broke the kiss to grind his hips into Doyle. "Come on, sunshine," he said into a nearby ear, kissing it for emphasis.
Drawing back, Doyle eyed Bodie speculatively, wondering what his partner had in mind.
Bodie's arm slipped around Doyle's waist as he turned them both in the direction of the bar. Finding a small opening in the sea of bodies, Bodie led them into the room. Leaving Doyle in firm possession of two chairs, he crossed the short distance to the bar to order them both a much needed drink.
While he waited, a man three inches taller and thirty pounds heavier brushed up against him, pinching his ass in the process. Before Bodie could respond, the man was spun away, reeling from the onslaught of Doyle's aggressive shove. Against a nearby wall almost before he knew what was happening, the man looked down at the curly top of Doyle's head, intent now on repaying the scrawny moppet for wounding his pride. Doyle's fingers tightened around the cock and balls framed so well by leather chaps. "Hands off, sunshine. He's mine," Doyle said sweetly, smiling up into the bemused grey-blue eyes. The interloper lifted his eyebrows to indicate that he comprehended Doyle's message. With a gentle squeeze that belied his grin, Doyle released his captive.
Bodie, astounded by the demonstration of possessiveness, regarded his companion with an open-mouthed stare. The insistent throbbing in his groin grew stronger.
Pleased with the effect his display had had not only on the other patrons but Bodie as well, Doyle moved to his partner's side, flinging a possessive arm around the broad shoulders.
Gasping slightly at the physical touch and its implications, Bodie turned toward Doyle.
From the peculiar look on Bodie's face, Doyle realised that the leather-clad man was about to come in his pants. Not wanting to waste it, yet unsure of Bodie's desires, Doyle smiled encouragingly.
Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, to quench the fire racing through him, Bodie leaned over to taste the damaged cheekbone that had captivated him for nearly three months now. "Come on. Time you finished what you started," he said more as an order. Forgetting their drinks, he led the way to a vacant chair. Sinking down, he pulled Doyle with him, urging him downward until the curly-haired man was kneeling in front of him. With a slightly tremulous hand, Bodie began fumbling with his zipper. Closing his eyes when Doyle's sure hands shoved his aside, Bodie pressed back into the chair while Doyle worked to free his aching erection.
"Lift up," Doyle commanded, enjoying both the audience of interested onlookers and Bodie's half-gone expression.
Bodie obeyed and soon his hard, hot flesh was enveloped by the warm wetness of Doyle's mouth.
"Such a big boy," Doyle muttered appreciatively, glancing up at Bodie's face.
His eyelids parted slightly as Bodie smiled, thrusting his hips forward, moving his cock deeper into Doyle's mouth. It took only a moment then for him to come.
Sucking his partner dry, Doyle finally looked up to see glazed blue eyes watching him. "Better?" he inquired, aware only of Bodie's expression, oblivious to the hungry stares and murmurings as others reached for their own or a neighbour's cock.
Bodie said nothing, instead leaning down to kiss Doyle with lips he wished could be rough but which, wisely ignoring him, were nothing but tender as they claimed Doyle's slightly swollen ones.
Several enraptured onlookers applauded. To Bodie's amusement, Doyle stood and took a bow, collapsing completely onto Bodie's lap in an exaggerated swoon.
"What's next?" he whispered, wantonly nibbling on Bodie's ear. Bodie's lack of response made Doyle pause to look at his partner.
Finally, Bodie tore his gaze away from Doyle's face as he said, "Need to talk."
"Do we really?" Doyle asked, using the quiet moment to indulge a long-denied desire to run his fingers through Bodie's fine hair, pleased to find it was as soft as he had suspected.
"I'm not ready to be in love, Doyle," Bodie replied seriously.
"Who ever is?" Doyle said, hiding his delight that Bodie was already talking about love, not just a night of sexual abandon.
"Are you really ready for this? For me?"
The earnest quality in the silken voice made Doyle hesitate, stifle the ready answer. He looked down at Bodie. "Dunno, mate. But I'm willing to find out." His voice was seductive, enticing.
"No." Bodie's gaze dropped to the floor.
Doyle lifted the suddenly closed face so that he could see Bodie's expression. The demons of past loves lost were clearly visible in the blue eyes, even in the dim light of the cabaret. "Why not?" His tone demanded an honest reply.
"Just not," Bodie responded firmly, slamming the door, he hoped, on further discussion.
His detective's instincts aroused, Doyle regarded Bodie's reticence as a challenge, a dare to probe the mysteries of his past and present. Even though he felt as if he'd known Bodie all his life, Doyle understood that there was still a great deal he did not know about his partner. What he did know, feel, was the undeniable chemistry between them.
As if reading his mind, Bodie sighed before saying softly, "I know. I feel it too. But Doyle...Ray..."
"It's okay, Bodie. I won't press you if you're not sure."
"Trouble is," Bodie replied, adding a rueful smile, "I am sure. Just not ready...for a relationship, that is. This..." His hand covered Doyle's crotch, "I can handle."
Doyle smiled.
They sat for a moment suspended in their own musings, alone together in their own world of two. Finally, Doyle broke the comfortable silence. "So where do we go from here?" His phrasing was deliberately ambiguous.
Ignoring the question, Bodie asked, "Why'd you come here?"
Noting the wary look on Bodie's face, Doyle accepted the lead as he responded, letting his fingers again move through Bodie's hair, "Sublimation."
"Sex," Bodie stated, his eyes dancing now.
"Bodie, that's crude," Doyle said with false coyness.
"I'm crude."
Smiling, Doyle's raised eyebrows conceded the point. "So prove it."
Bodie smiled wickedly, shifting slightly, redistributing Doyle's weight, his hands encircling the slim waist to prevent him from moving.
Doyle laughed. Already he knew that Bodie had some madcap plan in mind, a seemingly reasonable suggestion with dangerous undertones. "Let's have it, mate."
"Came here to play, didn't we?"
"Yeah," Doyle agreed after examining the statement for pitfalls.
"Then let's." There was a maniacal gleam in the blue eyes.
"You mean go where we would have if we hadn't found each other?" Doyle asked.
Bodie smiled sweetly. "Always said you were the brains of the outfit..." He left unspoken the part about his being the beauty.
Doyle sighed as much from amusement as from acceptance of the crazy logic of Bodie's statement. In a flash of insight, he realised that Bodie was showing him the way to win the game. "Okay, sleeping beauty, what've you got in that filthy mind?"
"Show me a fantasy, Doyle."
"And you'll show me one of yours?"
Bodie nodded, his lips edging closer to Doyle's.
Doyle leaned into the desired kiss, sealing their bargain. When they came up for air, however, Doyle shifted so that he was straddling his partner's lap, his legs wrapped around the rear chair legs as he faced Bodie. "Want you to understand something first."
Bodie looked into the green eyes, gauging their sincerity. Silently, he waited until Doyle found the right words and the voice to utter them.
"I love you, Bodie."
"Ah, but will you respect me in the morning?" Bodie said in deft imitation of many a one night stand, trying to evade the obvious sentiment.
"Cretin," Doyle said, disgusted with the flippancy.
"Doyle...Ray..."
The use of his given name was an apology of sorts which Doyle accepted. He placed a finger across Bodie's lips to forestall more. "Listen to me, Bodie. For once listen to me."
The openness of Bodie's expression as he waited seared through Doyle, intensifying the need to make Bodie understand. "Opening round tonight, Bodie. I want you, not just for this," he said, bending to claim Bodie's lips in a gentle kiss. "Don't understand why, though."
"Love at first sight," Bodie quipped, unable to meet Doyle's gaze.
"Something like that," Doyle replied casually after pulling Bodie's slightly bowed head up so that he could see those eyes that sought to hide from him.
"You sound like Barbara Cartland, Doyle."
"No. This won't be a storybook romance, sunshine. That much I do know. It'll be a hard fight."
Bodie eyed his partner, comprehending the validity of the statement, especially in terms of his own struggle to choose between what Doyle was offering and his highly prized independence.
"We'll hurt each other," Doyle added with a deep sigh.
"But we'll love each other, too," Bodie replied, his voice laden with hopefulness.
"Now who's soundin' like a friggin' romance novel?"
They shared a smile of understanding.
"Why do I love you, Doyle?" Bodie asked then, his expression earnest, almost as if he thought his partner might have an answer.
"Must be me sweet temperament," Doyle camped.
Suddenly sober, Bodie said, "This is a bloody dangerous game we're going to play."
"Bodie, you're a moron. Living on the edge, isn't that what we're both about? If it isn't, mate, you'd better pack it in right now."
Bodie had no reply for the truth in those words. Taking a deep breath, he looked around the room, marveling at the way Doyle's presence could block out even a noisy crowd such as this. "I'm not ready," he murmured, mostly to himself as his lips began to explore the chest in front of him. Pushing aside Doyle's shirt and jacket, he found a nipple and sucked it hard. His hands on Doyle's back caressed the lean curves as Doyle arched, playing against his strength.
His head tossed back in abandon as Bodie bit first one and then the other of his sensitive nipples, Doyle drew in a deep breath, opening his eyes to the upside-down world. Already his own hands had slipped inside Bodie's coat, exploring the smooth, hairless flesh, searching for nipples that were already hard with desire when he did find them. Pinching them, he gasped as Bodie's lips locked on his throat, nipping at the jugular, licking his Adam's apple. Beneath him, he felt Bodie's cock stiffen. Wanting Bodie, he reached down to touch the semi-erect organ. But Bodie stopped him.
"Not our deal, sunshine."
"Fuck the deal. I want you," Doyle said urgently, not about to be denied, already ignoring the fact that he was supposed to reveal a fantasy. He looked Bodie in the eye.
"No." Bodie was equally adamant.
It had begun then, the contest for Bodie's heart, Doyle realised with a deep sigh as he tried to calm his own racing blood and pounding heart. Looking into the blue eyes, Doyle felt a surge of confidence; he was confident he'd win in the end, though not until Bodie was ready. The game, he understood clearly, was to catch Bodie - a man carefully balanced between his own passions and the detachment which protected him from those passions. The challenge, he also knew, was to make Bodie want him so much that he would make the choice. The result would be a love as intense as the life they led. Instinct alone drove him, because he still wasn't sure why he so desperately needed Bodie that he'd accept this ludicrous game; he'd never courted anyone in his life. And yet, the very elusiveness of Bodie made him desire his partner even more; it was love, Doyle decided.
Eyeing his companion as Doyle mulled over his terms, Bodie felt the familiar fire of love flow through him, almost uncontrollable in its intensity. He knew himself too well, sensing again the conflicting needs of commitment and independence, understood the almost suffocating possessiveness that was a condition of his love, once given. As much as he wanted Doyle, having discerned the deep bonds that would be strengthened as they worked and played together, Bodie resisted, refusing to let Doyle in. And yet, a part of him was alive with the frantic hope that Doyle would be that one person who could take the love he had to give, return it in equal measure, and still be there in the morning. But until he was as certain as Doyle seemed to be... "Come on, sunshine," he said, using his favourite nickname for his partner, one he tried not to use often lest it become trite. "We've a night of lust ahead of us."
Doyle rose from Bodie's lap then, pulling his companion up to him. With an odd sense of detachment, he watched as Bodie fastened his trousers.
"Like these, do you?" Bodie asked with a laugh, feeling Doyle's scrutiny.
"Yeah. Like you in black. Makes you look sexy." To his utter astonishment, Bodie blushed. "You don't know how beautiful you are, do you?" he whispered, catching Bodie's face in his hands. The downcast blue eyes, suddenly shy, were his answer.
Finally, Bodie looked up, meeting Doyle's incredulous stare. "Course I do. Dressed like this, aren't I." He tried to give his voice an element of disgust; Doyle's foolish notion was not only not foolish, but true.
"Difference between knowing what looks good on you and whether or not you're beautiful," Doyle pointed out, almost euphoric over what he'd just discovered; the man he wanted, knew was in Bodie, was incredibly near the surface just now.
For the second time that night, Bodie had no answer for Doyle's statement of truth. Shrugging, he said, "Your fantasy night awaits, Raymond, old son."
Taking the hint, Doyle led them from the noisy bar that had seemed so quiet when he talked to Bodie. He paused in the corridor, suddenly unsure if he could show Bodie the fantasy he'd had in mind when he'd first walked in the door.
"S'okay," Bodie whispered in his ear as he clasped a shoulder. "Nothin' a hedonist like you could want would surprise me."
"Liar. You're surprised I want your love," Doyle shot back, shaking off Bodie's hand as he strode purposefully down the long hall.
"Not surprised, Ray. Just afraid."
The comment stopped Doyle cold. He looked at Bodie, scanning the shuttered face. Bodie's eyes, however, spoke silently of what he was feeling. Outraged by the obstacles Bodie was already throwing in his path, Doyle slammed his unsuspecting partner into a nearby wall. Pinning the larger body there much as he'd done with another earlier, he said in a low voice full of conviction, "I get what I want, Bodie."
Not one to be passive, even in a ticklish situation, Bodie deftly eluded Doyle's fingers as he reversed their positions, using his weight to prevent Doyle's escape. "So do I, Doyle. So do I." He released his partner quickly then, turning to walk off down the corridor.
Stunned, Doyle tried to decipher the cryptic intent of Bodie's words. "You're a fuckin', bleedin' soddin', son of a bitch bastard," he called out angrily, certain that Bodie had been toying with him, much as a cat plays with a mouse she knows will soon be hers. "And running scared," he whispered to himself, finally recognising the bluster for what it hid.
Bodie ignored the provocation, berating himself for the loss of control. Grimly, he opened the first door he came to, determined to participate in whatever was going on in the room. "Holy shit," he muttered, turning pale when he saw the gang rape in progress, the abject capitulation of the victim who cried out for more. Turning, he ran smack into Doyle who'd followed him into the room.
His eyes wide with a brief glimpse, Doyle let himself be ushered from the room. Even in the dim light, he could see Bodie shaking. "You okay?" he asked, puzzled by Bodie's reaction.
"No," was the succinct, spat-out reply.
Bodie was leaning against a wall now, breathing deeply. Unsure of what to say, Doyle eyed his partner with obvious concern.
Needing to explain more to himself than to Doyle, Bodie elaborated. "Never understood the psychology of victimization."
"You mean why they seem to like it, can't break out of it?"
"Yeah." Bodie looked at Doyle, wondering what the other man's reaction to the scene had been.
"Wish I had an answer, but I don't, even though I've tried it," Doyle finished softly, watching for the response.
"What?" Bodie's eyes were guarded.
"Tried that very scene once. Had to know what it was like being so helpless that I wanted any gesture -- even one of pain."
Bodie's eyes were now wide with disbelief. "And?" he finally asked, intensely curious.
"And I still don't know. Never was into being victimized, not after my first beating as a kid. Made sure from then on that no one took me." He paused, still uncertain of what his motivation had been two years ago when he'd willingly entered the very room Bodie had run from.
Guided by the intuition which made him know Doyle already, Bodie touched the misshapen cheekbone.
"...In there," Doyle said, tipping his head to indicate the room behind Bodie.
Bodie, moved by the empathy of shared experience, embraced Doyle, holding the slighter man completely within his arms.
Doyle luxuriated in the safety he felt in the strong arms, enjoying the unusual sensation of willingly yielding - temporarily - to someone more powerful. To be protected by someone who cared was a rare experience.
His curiousity unsated, Bodie whispered, "Did you enjoy it?"
"Nope. Decided I'd tried it once and that was enough. Still don't understand it." With a deep sigh, he pulled out of the circle of arms to embrace Bodie in the same way. Pleased when Bodie relaxed, Doyle asked, "Did you enjoy it?"
"No," but unlike Doyle, Bodie wasn't about to elaborate.
Reluctantly accepting this, Doyle hugged his partner.
Shifting his hold, Bodie said to Doyle, "Let's go find a fantasy."
"Already have one of those," Doyle muttered as he and Bodie turned to walk down the corridor, arm in arm. Any observer would have been amazed at the way they managed to insulate themselves from a crowd of men milling in the hall, some intently watching the obviously in-love pair.
"Where to?" Doyle asked as Bodie passed room after room.
"Whirlpool."
"Getting old, are we? Or into kink?" Doyle queried mischievously.
"'Fraid it's old tonight," Bodie admitted with a sigh. "Today..."
He didn't need to finish; Doyle too, was beginning to feel the minor aches from the day's shootout. A few years in a whirlpool sounded incredibly good to him.
"Perfect," Bodie announced as they sauntered into a deserted locker room.
"Never been down here," said Doyle as he looked around, wandering off to check out the gym facilities, the swimming pool, the sauna and the whirlpool. When he returned, Bodie was sitting on a bench, obviously waiting for him.
"The place is empty."
"Usually is. Only a few 'select' patrons even know it's here."
"And how come you're so privileged?" Doyle leaned casually against a few lockers, arms folded across his chest, indulging his passion for Bodie-watching.
Not flinching from the obvious scrutiny, Bodie replied, "Know the owners quite well actually. Used to come to private parties down here when I first came back to London."
"Used to?" Doyle asked, curious.
"Quit when I was seconded to the SAS. Too many 'illegal' substances."
"Oh."
"You sound disappointed."
"Was hopin' you'd say you found your true love and didn't need to come anymore."
"You're pushing, Doyle," Bodie warned. His voice, however, lacked sufficient menace. Doyle's pouting, full lips and twinkling eyes were responsible. Acknowledging that anonymous encounters, even if enactments of his own fantasies, held little promise tonight, not with a deliberately wanton Ray Doyle available, Bodie sighed and rose. He went to the locker room door and locked it.
"Can you do that?" Doyle inquired, speculating on Bodie's intentions.
"Just did, didn't I?" Bodie told his companion as he walked over to Doyle.
"Thought we were doing a fantasy."
"We are, Doyle. Mine." Bodie's words were forceful, tinged with lust. He pulled Doyle away from the lockers and stripped off the brown leather jacket, carefully hanging it up. The already unsnapped shirt followed.
As Bodie continued the oddly impersonal undressing, Doyle began to wonder what Bodie had planned.
"Nice touch, that," Bodie commented casually, indicating Doyle's lack of underwear.
"Didn't notice you had any on."
"Can't wear any with leather. Destroys the sensuality," was Bodie's matter-of-fact reply.
Doyle found himself smiling, illogically delighted by Bodie's open admission.
When Doyle was naked, Bodie moved away to admire his handiwork. "Gorgeous body, Doyle. Turn around and give us a look at the other side."
Pleased with Bodie's compliment and open ogling, Doyle preened.
Sighing appreciatively, Bodie leaned against the lockers. "Could watch you forever. So graceful, powerful. You're bleedin' beautiful, Doyle."
Acknowledging the words with a brilliant smile that danced in his eyes, Doyle walked over to Bodie. "Think it's time we had a look." Unzipping Bodie's black jacket, he shoved its clinging folds back to reveal the hairless, powerfully muscled chest. Doyle's eyes grew wide as he stared at Bodie's torso. His gaze was drawn to the left nipple. Unlike Bodie, he couldn't resist the urge to touch. Gingerly, his fingers traced the golden shaft of an arrow that pierced the left nipple. "Never noticed this," he managed, finding the ornament intensely erotic.
"Didn't wear it much during the day," Bodie explained to his curious partner who was still fondling the gleaming metal.
"Does it hurt?"
"No."
Doyle placed his lips on the nipple, his tongue now gliding over the flesh and its decoration. Bodie's soft moan, obviously one of pleasure, thrilled him. Glancing up, he noted the amused pleasure in the blue eyes.
"Bleedin' beautiful, it is," Doyle allowed when he finally tore his mouth away to kiss the neglected, though firm, right nipple.
Returning to the strip, he first kissed each nipple gently before removing the supple leather jacket; he was careful not to dislodge the wilting red carnation. He then had Bodie take off the motorcycle boots. "Nice, these."
"Military issue. Nicked them from SAS supplies," Bodie admitted.
Doyle bit back the smile that threatened. "They must have loved you."
"Did...that's why I'm here," Bodie replied in a tone that warned Doyle to ask no further questions.
Turning his attention to Bodie's trousers, Doyle soon had the ex-SAS man naked. Standing back as Bodie had, he scrutinised the lean body, the artist in him reveling in the perfect proportions. His eyes, however, focused on Bodie's heavy genitals, the size of the quiescent cock a surprise.
Noting his partner's fixation, Bodie destroyed the moment. "Cockring, Doyle."
Now that Bodie had mentioned it, Doyle could see the fine golden band. "Gift?"
"Nah. Bought it for myself in Casablanca when gold prices were down."
"Wear it much?"
"Only when I need the help," Bodie conceded ruefully, smiling at Doyle.
"Didn't notice you having trouble getting it up a while ago."
"For the third and fourth times, mate."
Doyle laughed as his eyes locked with Bodie's.
"Greedy little bugger," Bodie said softly, breaking the strange spell.
"Very," Doyle relied, swirling his index finger by way of ordering Bodie to pivot.
Bodie twirled quickly, not one to preen even though he considered his body acceptable.
"Back around mate. Not finished staring at your arse."
For a moment, Bodie, impatient to move on, almost didn't comply. He knew, however, that Doyle would wait until he did so. Slowly, he turned.
Doyle, again exploring his prize with his sense of touch, ran a fingertip down the straight spine and into the cleft that separated the well-shaped buttocks. A shiver quivered through Bodie, delighting Doyle. "You're the one who's bleedin' beautiful." His finger traced the scar on the left shoulder blade. Certain Bodie wouldn't tell him how he'd come by it, Doyle said lightly, "Stabbed in the back, were you?"
Whirling, Bodie looked his partner in the eye as he said emphatically, "Yes. By a former partner -- who's dead now."
Most people would have shrunk from the intimidating stare, but Doyle had already learned he could ignore it. "If I stabbed you in the back, mate, you'd not be alive to show the scars."
Again, their eyes locked as they measured one another. Understanding passed between them.
Changing the subject, Bodie told Doyle, "Come on. I'll give you one of me super massages." He led the way into another room.
Agreeably, Doyle hopped onto a nearby towel-covered table. "Which side first?" He'd heard Anna in the secretarial pool rave about Bodie's talents in this...and other fields of endeavour. Good massages were hard to come by, and, he admitted to himself, tonight he could use one.
"Back." Beginning with the toes, Bodie worked on Doyle's body, his touch impersonal, almost professional.
Expecting a prelude to sex rather than a real massage, Doyle was both disappointed and relieved since Bodie's talent far exceeded his reputation.
Thoroughly relaxed by the time Bodie reached his eyelids, Doyle finally found his voice. "Bloody fantastic. Where'd you learn?"
"Used to date a Swedish masseur."
"Loved him for his body?"
"Nah. Just his hands. Friggin' gifted he was. Only saw him when I felt lousy."
"Shameless."
"Yeah. All done."
"So soon?" Doyle's voice held a genuine note of regret.
"Whirlpool time."
Doyle reached out to grab Bodie's forearm. "I'm not nearly as good, but I can give you a decent rubdown...if you'd like."
"I would, actually; strained a few muscles today."
Moving off the table, Doyle patted the warm towels still retaining his imprint.
"Feel like I could do today all over again, now," Doyle commented as he began kneading the tense shoulder and neck muscles of his partner. "Teach me?"
"Sure," Bodie mumbled, already half-asleep.
Annoyed, Doyle slapped the protruding rump. "Stay awake," he demanded, glancing at his watch, amazed that it was already 4 a.m. No wonder Bodie was almost asleep, he thought, as he started the rubdown over again. As he worked, he found his thoughts straying to Bodie's ass, to what it would be like to have that ass -- if it was ever offered to him.
"Having lewd and lascivious thoughts about me, are you?" Bodie inquired into the silence when Doyle's hands stopped.
Startled, Doyle couldn't hide the desire plainly written on his face.
Bodie sat up, moving Doyle between his spread-wide thighs.
Like the proverbial child caught with his hand in the cookie jar, Doyle just smiled.
Their kiss was gentle at first, Bodie having expended his desire for roughness earlier. As it deepened, Bodie edged forward, bringing his semi-erect cock into contact with Doyle's stomach.
Slightly off balance, Doyle placed one hand on Bodie's upper left arm to steady himself while the other sought out and found Bodie's cock. Doyle eventually broke the long, indulgent kiss to begin his own exploration of Bodie's chest and neck. When the pink nipples were firm round mounds of flesh, Doyle's attention focused on the now fully erect cock. He stepped back slightly, his own cock out of easy reach, so that he could see Bodie's face as he masturbated his partner.
Bodie watched Doyle play with his cock, enthralled by the sight of someone who cared working him over with loving fingers. The expression on Doyle's face was one of love and lust combined. Deciding it was time to become more active, Bodie pulled Doyle closer, running his hands over his chest and back and through Doyle's luxuriant curls. Again, Bodie kissed his partner.
When Doyle moaned softly, Bodie left the table, bringing their bodies into full contact. Doyle locked his arms around Bodie, pinning the larger man to his smaller body.
Bodie, blessed with an oral fixation -- or so a psychologist he'd dated had told him -- was surprised by Doyle's skill at kissing. The competitiveness he felt toward his partner evoked his own best efforts. Pressed together, they stood, kissing and fondling for some time.
Doyle was amazed at how long he wanted to kiss Bodie. Usually a few obligatory moments were all he indulged in -- needed -- before he was ready to move on. But the mixture of gentleness, knowledge and roughness Bodie used made him want to continue holding, being held, kissing forever. There was a very unusual sense of contentment in being kissed by Bodie, even though it was also intensely arousing. Deciding, finally, that it was time to screw the analysis and fuck Bodie, Doyle directed his lips to Bodie's torso. He was teasing the alluring left nipple and its golden shaft when a hard hand jerked him up by the curls.
"Hurts, Bodie," he complained, surprised by the cold look on his partner's face.
"Could hurt you a lot more if this continues." The voice held Bodie's famous interrogation tone -- smooth silk over stretched-taut steel.
Doyle knew that Bodie was referring to more than just this moment of lustful sex; he'd seen the violence Bodie was capable of and he understood the warning in Bodie's words. The fingers entwined in his hair tugged harder.
A streetfighter, Doyle latched onto Bodie's balls, squeezing gently.
The pressure made Bodie shift slightly, yet he said nothing; he knew the pain Doyle's fingers could elicit, but he also knew he'd recover from it. A love such as he and Doyle felt for one another...he was unsure of what frightened him more, the potential for pain or the prospect of true happiness.
Sensing the question Bodie was asking himself, was projecting to him, Doyle said, "I'm not afraid of loving you, Bodie."
It required every ounce of carefully crafted control for Bodie not to yield to the desire he saw in the eyes holding his own. A slight tightening of Doyle's fingers about his testicles retrieved Bodie from the green depths, restored the strength to fortify his barriers. "You should be, Doyle."
A malicious smile grew on Doyle's lips. "Got it wrong as usual, mate. It's you who should be afraid of loving me." He meant that he was every bit as difficult as Bodie could be, but he knew the words hadn't conveyed his intent; Bodie's blue eyes were responsible for the lapse.
"I am," Bodie said softly, shifting tactics.
"For yourself, Bodie -- you're afraid of what'll happen to you." Doyle used his free hand to poke an accusing index finger at his companion. "Do you think, you conceited moron, that loving me will be a lark? Don't come easy or without risks, do I. And if you think, you arrogant bastard, that I'm going to be a celibate monk until you decide..."
Bodie used the hand in Doyle's hair to force his partner back into an embrace as his lips silenced the tirade. Doyle's fingers moved from testicles to cock. Deciding that Doyle just might know what he was getting into, Bodie backed away from the now tender kisses to ask another question. But Doyle's finger on his lips hushed him.
"I'll be here, Bodie, when you're ready."
"Know that, sunshine."
"Just don't take too long, Bodie. In this job..."
"Don't worry." The back of Bodie's hand was gently stroking Doyle's misshapen cheekbone. "I have no intention of letting you die."
The smugness of Bodie's tone sent a shiver through Doyle. He fought back his implicit belief in that statement. From their first assignment together, he'd developed the unrealistic notion that Bodie was immortal, that he always delivered on his promises; already he trusted his confidence in Bodie too much. The cold smile on Bodie's face frightened him. He thought of the line on the club's plaque, "I can feel the devil walking next to me," and shivered again as he wondered if Bodie's power over him extended even to the edge of the grave.
"Still sure you know what you're getting into?" Bodie asked, noting that his expression had had the desired effect on Doyle.
Taking a deep breath, Doyle's gaze met the blue one. "Yes. Want only the best to protect me most valuable ass-set." He shifted Bodie's hands to his buttocks.
Bodie accepted the attempt to defuse the emotional intensity by squeezing them, enjoying the feel of those firm mounds of flesh that never failed to stir him, especially when he watched them move.
"I do know why you always let me go first," Doyle said, reading his partner's thoughts with an accuracy confirmed by the flicker of surprise in Bodie's eyes.
"Prick teaser."
Doyle's expression was sultry, sensual, as he added, "Cocksucker, too."
"And a damned good one. Care to demonstrate again?" Bodie inquired hopefully, his fingers moving up and down the crease between Doyle's lower cheeks.
"Rather make love to you, Bodie," Doyle replied, instantly wishing he could have the words back. Bodie's withdrawal was tangible even if the arms still held him. Thinking quickly, Doyle added, "When you're ready. Tonight, I'll be your prick- teasing cocksucker, if that's what you want." The trapped look in Bodie's eyes was replaced by an expression of wariness as Doyle stroked the skin on Bodie's back and arms, trying to ease the sudden tension.
When Bodie finally relaxed into his embrace, Doyle said, "Get used to it, Bodie. Don't intend to stop telling you, do I?" He held Bodie's face, making sure his partner understood, even as he vowed not to slip again, not till he thought Bodie was better able to handle the situation.
"Don't want you to stop," Bodie murmured, looking at the floor.
His voice was so soft Doyle wasn't sure he'd heard correctly. The hooded expression on Bodie's face when he tilted it up told him he had understood. Round one goes to Ray Doyle he told himself as he kissed his lover hard, biting the red lips that had just spoken of Bodie's true desires.
When they came up for air, Bodie said in a husky voice, deepened by arousal, "Let's whirlpool."
He guided them into a small room decorated with blue-green tiles, a mosaic of sea colours that complemented the lush growth of tropical flowering plants that filled the room. In the center, surrounded by the foliage, directly beneath a glassed skylight, was a small sunken circle of frothing water. The pool itself was lined with matching green and blue tiles that highlighted its exotic appearance.
At the pool's edge, in a gesture of uncharacteristic tenderness, Bodie automatically took Doyle's hand as he stepped into the steamy water. Doyle allowed Bodie to lead him, content tonight to play out whatever scenario his partner had in mind, sure that the more passive role would, at this stage, tell him a great deal about Bodie.
Bodie sat down on one of the steps, his body submerged almost to nipple level. Stretching, he braced his feet against the bottom of a stair across from him, providing a lap for Doyle to sit on. He then pulled his partner down, positioning him so that Doyle could reach his cock and he Doyle's. "Wrap your legs behind me," he instructed.
Settling himself, Doyle decided he liked the position. He could see Bodie's face, touch his nipples with either fingers or lips, and easily reach the now hard cock jutting arrogantly from between Bodie's held-together thighs. The warm water swirled about them, relaxing tired muscles, reducing the sudden hesitancy that made Doyle wonder what he should do, what Bodie wanted.
Bodie supplied the answer. "Make love to me with your hands and lips, Doyle."
Taking up the challenge, excited by the prospect of watching Bodie slip into an orgasm he created, Doyle first explored Bodie's face with his lips, his tongue discovering the intensely erogenous zone that was Bodie's left ear. By the time he was ready to move on to the torso, Bodie's hands had taken a firm hold of his own cock. Doyle brushed the hands away as he said determinedly, looking his partner in the eye, "My job."
"Do it then," Bodie commanded through gritted teeth, his hands now locked on Doyle's ass.
Relying on his knowledge of what drove him up and over, Doyle manipulated Bodie's cock. When the large body shivered beneath him, Doyle leaned over to kiss his companion. Bodie, intent on the sensations coming from his groin, refused Doyle entry at first. Biting the lips, Doyle invaded the warm mouth, conquering Bodie's tongue in the process.
A gasp died in Bodie's throat as one hand touched his cock, another his left nipple while the lips worked their magic on his mouth. Sensing that the point of overload was near, Bodie grabbed Doyle's cock, rubbing its hard length with skillful fingers. Thoroughly aroused by the steady quivering of Bodie's body, the throbbing cock and now Bodie's fingers on his own cock, Doyle felt himself running quickly toward his own finishing line.
"Bodie..." his protest wilted as Bodie's fingers massaged the clenched opening between his buttocks, "...supposed to be my show."
"Shut up, Doyle," Bodie ordered, taking a hand from Doyle's cock, using it to thrust two of the fingers from Doyle's left hand into his own mouth.
Understanding instantly, Doyle moved his fingers in and out of Bodie's mouth, making them a surrogate phallus. Losing himself in the sensations Bodie was causing, Doyle almost forgot about the stiff organ in his right hand. It, too, seemed to move by Bodie's will, not his own. Fighting, Doyle resisted the effects, determined to see Bodie swimming, out of control, for once. Reasserting his command of Bodie's cock, Doyle slowed the pace, forcing Bodie to follow his lead. Very deliberately then, he began touching the cock in the way only another man could know would bring its capitulation. His fingers performing their own erotic in and out dance with Bodie's lips and tongue, Doyle drove his partner to the edge, pausing only an instant to kiss Bodie's left ear, using his tongue-tip to dart into the auricular opening, pushing Bodie into orgasmic oblivion. Clamping down, he fought back his own rising tide to watch Bodie's face as ejaculation occurred.
Bodie's fingers stopped their torturous manipulation as he cried out -- softly -- as if needing -- trying to control his lips, but failing. With closed eyes and parted lips, Bodie's face reflected the languor that claimed his body. Relaxed by the release of tension, the openness orgasm demanded, Bodie's face was less harsh than usual, its lines softened to the melting, classic beauty his will denied those features.
Marveling at the sheer sensuality in that face, Doyle again leaned over to kiss Bodie, wanting to be part of that beauty, to taste it with his lips. Bodie's responding kiss was gentle, full of affection. When Doyle sat back to admire his handiwork, Bodie sighed deeply, his eyes opening to reveal a lassitude Doyle delighted in, knowing he'd brought it about.
Quickly, however, the look of contented aftermath was crowded to the edges of the blue irises as Bodie renewed his stimulation of Doyle's body. Using one hand to pull Doyle down until he could kiss him, Bodie's other hand began its knowing manipulation of a pulsing cock. Using his lips and tongue, Bodie explored Doyle's mouth, rubbing against the tongue as if it, too, were a hard cock.
Already euphoric from what he'd done to Bodie, it didn't take long for Doyle to yield to Bodie's skill. When deft fingers again invaded his anus, Doyle could resist no longer. With the deep, mumbled cry of his lover's name, he came in Bodie's hand which milked him until every drop of fluid had spilled forth.
Resting against Bodie's chest, Doyle moved his legs so that he matched Bodie's stretched-out length. Curious as to what Bodie was leaning on, but too languorous to find out, Doyle let the warm internal tingling wash over him as the swirling, steamy water cascaded gently against his skin. Lulled by the swishing noise of lapping water and Bodie's strong heartbeat beneath his ear, Doyle drifted. He must have fallen asleep, he realised, when he heard Bodie calling his name, gently stroking his back.
"Come on, Ray. Wake up."
"What?" Doyle mumbled intelligently.
"Wakie, wakie, sunshine." Bodie's voice was soft, almost musical.
"Why?" Having no desire to lose the moment, Doyle was determined to remain where he was.
"Be prunes in another minute," Bodie told him, gently brushing aside the damp curls on Doyle's forehead. He planted a tender kiss on the exposed skin.
Silently, Doyle decided he much preferred this method of waking up to that of a blaring alarm clock. He was just about to ask Bodie if he'd mind doing this every morning when he felt the larger body cradling him shift.
Using the buoyancy, Bodie lifted Doyle into his arms. He stood up, holding his still dazed partner.
Realising that Bodie would probably carry him up the stairs next, Doyle reluctantly began to move.
"S'okay. Hold on," came the calm voice near his ear.
With strength he was amazed to find he had at this particular moment, Bodie carried his contented partner up the steps and through a small archway to the edge of the swimming pool. Ordinarily, he'd have dropped Doyle in, but tonight... Tightening his grip, he stepped off into the coolness of the scented water.
Stunned by the cold water, Doyle erupted into a mass of writhing arms and legs as he strove to break Bodie's grasp.
Equally shocked by the effect of the water and yet, laughing too hard, Bodie let go, quickly evading the wild flailing of Doyle's limbs.
"Bodie, you sadistic son of a bitch," Doyle sputtered when he finally regained a modicum of control by planting his feet on the pool's slippery floor. Breathing hard, he wiped the moisture from his eyes, glowering at Bodie when he could see.
"Thought it was heated," Bodie said sweetly, flashing Doyle a wide-eyed look of innocence.
Doyle hated that expression because Bodie's beauty in that moment always dissolved his anger. "Don't bat those baby-blues, Bodie. I'm not buying," he replied sternly, hoping Bodie would never realise the effect that look had on his blood pressure. "I'll remember this next time I have to wake you, sunshine," Doyle added, vowing to make Bodie pay in kind forever.
"S'good for you, this," Bodie responded, ignoring the threat in Doyle's words. His tone was still silky as his hand gently swished the water.
Doyle ducked just as the splash reached the spot where he'd been. Swimming underwater, he grabbed Bodie's feet, pulling his smug partner beneath the water's surface. Locked together, they wrestled around for a moment, till Doyle ended the feeble struggle with a wet kiss that sent them both to the surface for oxygen.
"Not fair," Bodie grumbled good-naturedly as he gulped in air.
Doyle smiled maliciously.
Bodie's expression softened as he reached for Doyle, whom he pulled into a close embrace. "Need to dress, sunshine."
Having totally forgotten the time, Doyle glared at Bodie's watch. "Shit..." he muttered, dismayed that it was already 6.
After a long, thorough kiss, Bodie led the way to the showers. The typical morning routine took them some time as they openly studied one another's bodies. It was nearly 7 when they had finished dressing.
As Bodie moved to unlatch the lock, Doyle stopped him.
"Bodie, I..."
"Don't, Doyle. Nothing more to say...now." Bodie placed his index finger on Doyle's lips.
"We need to talk, Bodie," Doyle said firmly, kissing Bodie's finger.
"No. You've told me what you want. I've told you I'm not ready."
"And tonight..."
"Doesn't count."
"Don't believe that, not for a minute." Doyle frowned, not having expected denial from Bodie, but then not sure of what, exactly, he had expected.
"You should."
"Why?" Doyle turned Bodie's head toward him, looking deeply into the guarded blue eyes.
"Don't listen, do you, Doyle? I'm..."
"Not ready," Doyle finished for his partner. "Bullshit."
Bodie smiled cryptically, releasing the lock to pull Doyle to him. Leather caressed leather as he kissed Doyle, biting the lips harshly, then softening as he deepened their kiss.
"Love you," Bodie mumbled as Doyle leaned back in his embrace.
"What's the problem then, Bodie? Don't understand..."
"World's full of things you don't understand."
"Including you."
"Including me."
Doyle sighed. "Just supposed to forget about tonight, are we?"
"No, I can't," Bodie admitted, kissing Doyle's creased forehead.
"Then..."
"I'm not ready for more, Doyle."
There was a firmness to Bodie's voice that warned Doyle to back down. He had quickly learned that his partner required a great deal of emotional space. If the man felt trapped, dynamite couldn't budge him; given sufficient latitude, he'd freely confess or do anything, if he was of a mind to.
It was Bodie's turn to sigh. "Ray...I don't know how to explain further."
For a moment, Doyle regarded his partner with a speculative look. He sensed Bodie's desire for a commitment, a regular relationship, if such were possible given who they were and the life they led. But he was wise enough to realise that much as Bodie might want such a commitment, he'd still feel threatened by it. It was a pattern Doyle'd clearly seen in what he knew of Bodie's past --- intense loyalty, commitment even, to people, organizations coupled with a fierce need to be independent. The need for autonomy eventually drove Bodie from whatever he was involved with. Doyle decided that Cowley had obviously discerned the same pattern, had seemed confident he could hold Bodie or he wouldn't have invested the effort and money in recruiting and training the man. By the same token, Doyle thought, because he'd discovered an essential element in his partner's motivational makeup, he could not only have Bodie, but keep him as well. The key was to prevent Bodie from feeling trapped and to move him to make a choice of his own free will. Finally, Doyle broke the lengthy silence by saying, "I understand, Bodie."
"Do you?" Bodie asked, curious as to how Doyle comprehended the nature of his problem when he wasn't sure he did.
"What I'm going to demand from you, sunshine," Doyle began, using his favourite nickname for his partner, one he'd stolen from him, "will require quite a commitment. You may not know it yet, Bodie, but your big decision is not whether you will commit -- you want to. It's when."
Bodie tipped his head, acknowledging the correctness of Doyle's observation.
Doyle smiled his confidence.
"What makes you say that?" Bodie inquired, working his hands up underneath Doyle's shirt as he started to caress warm, soft flesh.
"Know you, I do. No one else can keep up with you, make you mind, or do this..." Doyle's voice trailed off as he returned Bodie's harsh kiss of a moment ago, biting Bodie's lower lip till he tasted blood. His tongue played with the small break in the skin before sliding more gently into Bodie's mouth, teasing rather than torturing. Grinding his hips into Bodie's, he felt the stirring of a leatherbound cock. When he once more leaned back in Bodie's arms, Doyle was pleased with the knowing smile he saw in the blue eyes. "Trapped animals and small little kids all need space and time before they trust. You, of course," Doyle added, "belong to the trapped animal category."
Instead of a snappy retort, Bodie replied with a sad smile that made Doyle regret the quip. "Bodie, look at me," Doyle commanded.
Bodie glanced up, hoping Doyle wouldn't apologise. Tired, he was dangerously on the edge of revealing the pain that comment had evoked.
"I love you, Bodie. I'm prepared to give you the time and space you need. I want you in my bed, but willingly."
"Why?" Bodie asked softly, giving Doyle the latitude to apply the question to any of his own statements.
"Takes a hard man like you to love a tough guy like me...really love."
"What about women?"
"Fancy you, don't I?"
"Doyle...it will take real time..."
"Know that. And you," he added, tapping Bodie's chest with his tight index finger, "should realise that if you take too long, you cretin, someone else might just be sleeping in me bed."
Bodie's eyes narrowed fractionally as he looked at Doyle, silently accepting the fact that Doyle was prepared to wait, but not forever.
Biting his own tongue, Doyle managed not to tell him that it was a lie. Even if someone else was there, even if he loved someone else, he'd always love Bodie more; at the moment, it was a fact he understood more with his heart than his mind. Bodie, he noted then, had slid into self-absorption, another state which softened the lines of his face, giving him a truly innocent appearance. Unabashedly staring at his unseeing partner, Doyle wondered just how long he could wait before he brought up the issue again. He was an impatient man, even though he seemed to have convinced Bodie, who knew full well how impatient he was, that he'd wait. Smiling at the thought of his small victory, Doyle decided Bodie was no doubt quite prepared to make him wait. Reaching out, he touched his partner's slightly parted lips with an inquisitive finger, tracing their outline.
Responding to the caress, Bodie roused himself from his introspection. "Shouldn't lie to your partner, sunshine," Bodie murmured, smiling at Doyle's wide-eyed amazement. "You'll never love anyone else the way you do me. Never want anyone else the way you do me." As he spoke, his grip on Doyle tightened, preventing him from pulling away.
"You arrogant..."
Slamming Doyle against the door, Bodie forcefully kissed his partner.
Doyle fought him at first, giving in to the anger Bodie always aroused with this sort of behaviour. But as the sure hands stroked him, turning the ire to passion, Doyle clung to reason long enough to turn Bodie's game back on him. "You're right, Bodie," he said as he stopped struggling.
Realising that he'd been neatly hoist on his own petard, Bodie glanced at Doyle, not sure of what to do next.
"Definitely a trapped animal, you moron," Doyle chided, no longer angry with his partner. "Bodie," he continued, lifting the downcast face, "you're not going to love anyone else the way you do me either, you know."
"I know," Bodie replied after a long pause.
"What are you so afraid of?" Doyle asked, holding the blue gaze.
"Me."
"Why? You're wonderful," Doyle responded, smiling, adding his best wide-eyed innocent stare of adoration for emphasis, practically swooning in Bodie's arms.
"Must be, since you love me, eh?" Bodie said, ignoring the melodrama Doyle was perpetrating.
"Damned right." Doyle's tone was emphatic.
Bodie smiled weakly, unable to quell the nervous tension he felt in response to Doyle's assertion. "You know that I hate you for doing this to me."
"Hate yourself, mate. You're doin' it to yourself."
"What makes you such a friggin' expert about all this, Doyle?" Bodie asked angrily, tightening his grip on Doyle once more.
"Better liar," Doyle allowed with a warm smile. "Bodie, you're stupider than I give you credit for if you think I'm not afraid."
"Then we both need time to think about this." Bodie sounded hopeful.
"Usually don't think about love with me head."
"This isn't your typical love affair, Doyle."
Doyle sighed deeply. "No, it isn't, is it?"
They looked at one another for a moment, sharing an awareness of the vulnerability that had been developing as the night lengthened. Each now had more of a hold, more of an understanding of the other. They both sensed that an agreement in principle had been forged. The terms, they understood, had yet to be worked out. That would be the hard part. In unison, they moved together for a last kiss, each content to take the night's victories.
Then Doyle turned reluctantly to open the door. Arms around one another's waists, they climbed the stairs and strode through the nearly deserted corridor where only a few couples lingered. Each lost in his own thoughts, oblivious to the stares and whispers their appearance elicited, they headed for the main entrance.
Just inside the heavy oak door that held reality at bay, Bodie pushed his partner against the wall, ignoring the fact that it was now 7:10 and they were both expected in the Records department at 8:00. "It might just work, Doyle," he whispered, his lips caressing an earlobe.
Doyle smiled stupidly, melting into the body possessing him. "I know it will, Bodie," he announced, almost giddy over Bodie's admission, totally confident he could make it come true, that Bodie wanted him as much as he wanted Bodie.
"I'm not ready," Bodie repeated, his blue eyes sober, hard and shielded.
"Told you already I accept that, didn't I? I can...will...wait." Doyle met the level blue stare.
"Can you?" as Bodie's soft comment, half question - half statement.
Doyle merely smiled,licking his swollen lips much as a wolf, sure of his prey.
Bodie's appraising gaze met his.
Their eyes locked as each clung to the memory of the night's pleasures, and more important, to its revelations.
Bodie removed the wilted, crushed carnation from his lapel. He tucked it into the nest of curls above Doyle's right ear. "One day, sunshine," he murmured, forestalling a reply as he once more tasted the sated lips of Ray Doyle --- his partner and a man he knew would one day be his lover.
Doyle reached around the solid form to cup Bodie's ass, to pull the heavier man closer. "Count on it, Bodie," he said with a cocky, crooked smile when his mouth was released.
Winking, Bodie turned and was out the door before Doyle could move.
With a sigh of profound satisfaction, Doyle removed the flower. He sniffed at the fading fragrance, turning the stem idly between his thumb and index finger. Laughter filled the empty entryway as he palmed the blossom and opened the massive oak door. By the time he found his car, he knew what he'd do with the flower. No matter how long it took, he'd save it between the pages of a love poem, keep it safe till he could return it to Bodie on the night his partner came willingly to his bed.
One night in Bangcock
And the hard man's humbled
Not much between despair and ecstasy
One night in Bangcock
And the touch guy tumbles
Can't be too careful with your company
I can feel the devil walking next to me
-- THE END --
Originally published in The Hatstand Express 9
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