Bike Night 2


(A sequel to Three Bells)

All evening Bodie had avoided the balcony door in his flat, but finally he could resist it no longer, and he opened it and stepped outside. The full moon was riding high in the clear sky, shedding unnecessary light over London. The breeze was light and crisp, autumn well along, with winter following quickly. He glanced down at the quiet car park behind his block, and returned to his flat, closing the door.

Twenty days. Twenty days since he and Doyle had been on a stakeout on Brownie's boat, and he had risked everything on the whim of a moment and the intimacy of shared confidences. Bodie closed his eyes, standing still in the centre of his living room. He'd given in to impulse, and to Doyle's enduring allure. And Doyle.... Nothing, no fantasy, no idle and secret contemplation, had prepared him for Doyle's immediate and wholehearted response. He could get himself going just by thinking about it: Doyle under his hands, and in his mouth; Doyle's mouth on him. He had wanted, desperately, to kiss Doyle, to explore him, to claim him.

But the job had taken precedence, and the moment had disappeared under the demands of a chase and a clean-up. On Brownie's boat they had created a world between them, a place where only they existed, and unspoken desires could be set free. How could any of that exist in their real world? What would it cost them, if they tried?

He opened his eyes and moved through his flat to the window overlooking the street below. Twenty days. The full moon was five days old. The last two nights he and Doyle had been off, finally free from the job after a series of ops and cases. They'd spent the nights apart.

"Maybe," Doyle had said, about Bodie joining him for the night rides he took on his bike. The rides were Doyle's way of keeping a part of himself free from CI5, a part of himself wild and his own. Maybe.

They hadn't spoken of the night on Brownie's boat--how could they? What would they say? But he had thought they had understanding--perhaps just the promise of an understanding. He could still feel Doyle's hand on his, echoing his own gesture: they wouldn't forget this. But...two nights, and the moon wouldn't be full for long.

He turned away from the window, took a step towards the kitchen, but then glanced one more time at the street. And he saw Doyle on his bike, parked by the kerb, as if he had been there all along. Bodie caught his breath, and even as he took a step back to the window, he saw Doyle's helmet move and knew his eyes were seeking out Bodie's window.

With a grin he couldn't suppress, Bodie moved to the door, grabbing his leather jacket, and the helmet he'd placed by the door. He hurried to the street, relieved to find Doyle in the same spot when he arrived, as if it might have been his imagination all along. Doyle sat astride the bike, and turned his head to watch as Bodie approached. Bodie hesitated by the bike, then at Doyle's gesture he climbed on behind him. Doyle turned the accelerator and Bodie felt the vibration of the machine. He wrapped his arms around Doyle and leant into him as Doyle took them out onto the street.

While on the city streets Doyle took it easy, weaving through traffic, but doing nothing to cause any concern. Bodie swayed with the bike, keeping in close contact with Doyle, just enjoying the night and being there. Once they reached the A3, however, Doyle gave the bike full throttle, and Bodie held on tighter.

Doyle seemed to have an uncanny knowledge of where any speed traps might be, slowing appropriately, then zooming on to speeds that Bodie didn't want to contemplate. Cars and lorries were moving obstacles for them to avoid, and at times Bodie was tempted to close his eyes, so close did Doyle come to them. But he kept his eyes open, his chin resting on Doyle's shoulder. He stopped thinking about the course he would have taken through traffic, and concentrated on feeling Doyle's every movement, trying to make them one on the bike.

They flew through the traffic, and then off the A3 and on to smaller roads, rushing along dark country lanes, twisting and curving until Bodie was unsure of their exact location. To him, again, came the feeling of the two of them isolated in the world, existing out of time. He felt free, like he did sometimes when he did a night jump, the world rushing towards him yet ever-distant, and always the danger that he'd misjudge the moment to pull the ripcord. This time, though, he placed his trust in another, and let himself stay unburdened by decision, apart from the world.

He didn't know where they were when Doyle finally slowed, but he thought somewhere near Chichester. They were on a small road, with only occasional traffic, then Doyle took an abrupt turn onto a small path leading to a deserted car park. The road was hidden by trees, and there was a dense wood on either side of the car park. They were on a hill, and in front of them meadow and field swept down in a steep decline, opening the view to the lights of villages far below them.

Doyle stopped the bike, one leg extended to the ground to steady them. Bodie slowly climbed off, regretting the loss of contact, but drawn to the view. He took off his helmet and walked forward to the edge of the hill, his eyes sweeping over the terrain, noting all that he was trained to notice. But then his eyes were drawn up, to the stars bright in a clear night. He picked out the Plough, Taurus and Orion. The stars in some parts of Africa had been clearer, more breathtaking, but they had been alien, a part of the southern hemisphere. These stars spoke to him of home, of constancy. He had once said to himself to put his trust in the stars, not people, for they were always there to greet him.

He turned back to find Doyle watching him, still seated on the bike, but with his helmet off. Bodie walked back to him, dropping his helmet, and took Doyle's face in both of his hands. He kissed Doyle, tasting the night on his breath, wanting to share the wild exhilaration he felt. Doyle opened for him, matched him, and showed him, again, that the risk was worth it.

"Ray," he said on a sigh, pulling back only a little, his hands still holding Doyle's head.

The moonlight shone on Doyle's face as he opened his eyes, and Bodie caught a glimpse of white as he smiled. "I said it was a turn-on."

"I want you. Now."

The smile lingered. "You can't have me."

"What?" Bodie couldn't hide his dismay.

"Not here, at any rate." Doyle reached out a hand to Bodie's face, tracing his mouth with his finger. "We're not sixteen, you know. I don't fancy being fucked in the dirt...or gravel." He glanced at the ground. "Of course, I'd be happy to do you...." He grinned.

"Ah, no, you've made your point." He leant in again, and Doyle met him with his mouth. There was nothing he could compare this with, although it should just have been just another mouth, no great difference. But he knew this was Doyle--stand-alone, touch-me-not Doyle--who was kissing him with such fervent need. Bodie groaned and pushed closer, his hand seeking out and finding the proof of Doyle's arousal.

"Bodie!" Doyle broke free from the kiss, panting, but he didn't try to move away from Bodie's hand, and indeed, he pushed forward into Bodie, even as he shook his head. "Home. We should...God!"

All right, no fucking, but that left several options and Bodie saw no reason for him not to explore them, here and now. After all the frustration of not being able to kiss Doyle on Brownie's boat, of not being able to hold him, he wasn't going to give that up now. Not yet. He captured Doyle's mouth again, and he pulled him off the bike, until their arms were around each other and Doyle's body was hard against his own. And then his hands went on their own exploration, down Doyle's leather jacket, to the leather trousers, cupping and stroking him, until Doyle moaned and he nearly moaned himself, so enticing was the feel of Doyle encased in leather. But he undid the trousers, pushed them down just enough to give him Doyle's flesh beneath his fingers. Doyle was hard and weeping already, and Bodie gave him a hand to push into, while his other hand fondled and caressed and sought the place where he would put his own cock later, in bed. Doyle cried out against his mouth, and pulled away, burying his head against Bodie's shoulder, sinking his teeth into Bodie's jacket. Bodie held him as he came, feeling Ray's heat and life passing through his fingers. He surrounded Doyle, held him captive, and yet he knew he was the one who was caught. He was the one in danger.

Doyle pulled back and Bodie held his breath, wondering, waiting as he had twenty days ago. It had to be Doyle's choice, not his. A full half-minute went past, with Doyle staring at him, his eyes unreadable in the moonlight. Then Doyle came close and his lips were gentle on Bodie's as they kissed. Bodie closed his eyes. And again, as on Brownie's boat, Doyle went down on him, and his cock was in Doyle's mouth, caressed by Doyle's tongue. Doyle, too, penetrated him, staked his future claim, and Bodie's insides twisted with the certain knowledge that the danger was shared, and all the greater for that. They'd be in this together, each step, and each would demand the same of each other. There would be no hiding from Doyle, and no half-measures. He came on the thought, a release so sweet and thorough that it left him shaking. He looked at the stars, the constant stars above him, but his hands held tightly to Doyle, and it was his hands that had the better truth.

Doyle was on his feet again, and Bodie tasted himself in Doyle's mouth, as Doyle kissed him. The urgency was gone, yet the kiss still made him catch his breath, still touched him to the core. But the kiss ended, as all kisses do, and he felt the chill in the air as they dressed themselves--separate once more.

"Home?" Doyle's voice was husky, and his eyes gleamed at Bodie. But there seemed to be an odd hesitancy about him, a certain cant to his stance that Bodie only slowly absorbed.

He reached out and his hand found Doyle's, clasping it as he had on Brownie's boat. He waited.

Doyle's fingers tightened on his. "Can this stand the light of day?"

"Yes." One word, but he was certain. They could have their own private world, inside the other. All they had to do was believe it.

Doyle nodded and Bodie got them moving, tugging Doyle back to the bike. Doyle grabbed the helmet he had left on the bike seat, but Bodie pulled him close, feeling the tension that had not eased.

He whispered in Doyle's ear: "They can't ever get us here." He touched Doyle's hand. "This is us."

Doyle tilted his head to look at him, and Bodie felt him relax. "Let's go home."

They climbed back onto the bike, helmets hiding their faces from each other, the wind taking away their voices, and the night hiding all but their shapes. But Bodie's arms were around Doyle, and his mind was full of him, and they were going home.

-- THE END --

Written because P.R. Zed wanted to read about the bike ride!
October 2006

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