Dreams Out of the Ivory Gate
The Professionals is the property of Brian Clemens and Mark 1 Productions. This is done for love, not money.
Bodie looked down at the blonde head snuggled up against his chest. Damp, panting breaths stirred across his skin with the same pattern as the scarlet nails that caressed his stomach.
"Tell me your fantasies," he whispered.
There was a snort of laughter from underneath the blonde curls, tickling his chest. "You don't want to hear them," she told him definitely.
He grinned, tangled his fingers gently in her hair. "I wouldn't have asked."
"Okay, I don't want to tell you." Theresa rolled back, looked up at him, eyes narrowed in mischief. "You'd be all shocked and you'd never want to see me again."
"I don't think you could shock me," he assured her. The daughter of a respected politician, Roedean educated, followed by an MA in philosophy at Oxford, all leading to a perfectly appropriate job at Weatherby's. The epitome of Bodie's preferred type.
"But this is my fantasy come true," she simpered, fluttering her eyelashes. "You, me, together forever..."
And somewhere along the way, this one had learned to use her brains. Bodie laughed.
"You tell me yours and I'll tell you mine." She managed to infuse the childish phrase with all the exciting promise it had held when Bodie was seven.
"Uh-uh. I asked first."
"You're a brute, Bodie."
"I know. Now, are you going to tell me or will I have to force it out of you?"
She propped herself on one elbow, looking down at him, eyes filled with challenge. "A threesome."
Bodie started to smile.
"You, me. And Ray."
The smile turned into a choked cough. "Ray Doyle?" Bodie managed.
She grinned. "I told you you'd be shocked."
"Appalled at your lack of taste," Bodie defended himself.
"Well, not so much Ray," she admitted. "Just... Well, I love the idea of two men and me. And seeing as I'm sleeping with you at the moment and seeing as he's your mate, it just seemed, well, logical."
"You have a strange grasp of logic."
"I know. I was the despair of my professors." She settled herself back down into the curve of Bodie's arm. "So, do you want to hear more?"
Intrigued despite himself, Bodie murmured agreement.
"Okay, so we've been out for a drink or something and we come back to yours for some more once the pub shuts. And you're in the kitchen and I start kissing Ray."
"Why would you do that when I'm in the next room?"
"Because I'm drunk and my taste's gone out the window. Happy?"
"Good enough reason."
"Anyway, you walk back in and see us and you get angry."
"Murderous," Bodie agreed.
"And you go to hit Ray but I stop you and persuade you that it would be more fun if you just joined in. Anyway, you agree."
"I must have been very drunk as well."
"We'd had quite a few drinks," she reassured him. "And then we all come through to here and we're naked and, well..." Her voice trailed off and she cleared her throat. "Well, you're both keeping me occupied. Then I whisper to you that I want to see you get a blowjob."
Bodie was silent for a moment as he processed the words. "You want to see me get a blowjob?" Suddenly, his expression twisted into disgust. "Eurgh! You want to watch Doyle go down on me?"
She nodded, grinning at Bodie's discomfort. "Don't worry, Bodie. It's just a fantasy."
"Yeah, but..." He shifted uncomfortably. "It's Doyle."
"Well, he doesn't know, does he?" she pointed out practically. "And, seeing as this is a fantasy, you agree."
Bodie just about managed to cope with that. "What does Doyle say?"
"He doesn't say anything. He doesn't know what we're whispering about. Now, we roll over so that I'm sitting against the headboard and you're sitting between my legs, leaning back against me. And I'm running my hands over your chest and thighs and you're all aroused and looking drop dead gorgeous."
"So what's new?" Bodie responded.
"Prat." She kissed his neck. "And Ray's looking at us, like he doesn't know what 's going on. And I say, 'Ray, Bodie wants you to give him a blowjob.' And Ray looks at you, because he doesn't know what to do. And you nod."
Bodie swallowed "I must be very, very drunk," he managed.
She ignored him. "And Ray goes down on you. And he's very, very good. I can feel you getting more and more turned on by it. Your head falls back on to my shoulder and you're gasping. And I'm still running my hands over you and you're starting to sweat and it feels so good. And then I feel all your muscles tensing and your back arches and you come. Ray swallows most of it but when he looks up, there's a dribble at the corner of his mouth. So I lean forward and I lick and kiss it off."
"Can we swap Doyle for one of your female friends?" Bodie asked. "I could really get turned on by this if it wasn't for that golly."
"This is my fantasy, not yours. Behave yourself." She ran her hand down his body, before taking a gentle grip on his swelling erection. "Besides, you seem to getting rather turned on as it is."
"It's knowing I'm lying next to such an imaginative pervert," he defended himself. "And imagining a woman instead of Doyle."
"Well, the next bit you won't be in any doubt that it's Ray."
Bodie swallowed. "I don't like the sound of that."
She ignored him. "So, you've just had one of the best orgasms of your life and you're lying against me, all limp and floppy and boneless like you do."
"I do not!"
"Of course you do. Orgasm releases all sorts of endorphins into the bloodstream. And you whisper, very quietly, 'Fuck me'. And I say, 'I can't. You're all fucked out.' And Ray looks up and he says, 'I can fuck him.'"
"No fucking chance!" Bodie shot upright. "Okay, a mouth's a mouth - but no fucking chance!"
"I warned you you'd be shocked," she pointed out. "But you were so sure-"
"I'm not shocked, as such," Bodie said, pointedly lying back down. "I'm disgusted."
"Same thing. Do you want me to finish this or not?"
"Not. Definitely not."
"Boring sod. Anyway, time for your fantasy now."
But all Bodie's fantasies of being tied down by a tribe of Amazons and pleasured to oblivion seemed pale and uninteresting.
"Hmm?" Bodie blinked a couple of times as he was startled out of his reverie.
"I said, how you getting on with the Brandt report?"
Bodie looked down at the blank paper in front of him. "Not good," he admitted. He glanced at the clock. "Sod, I'm meant to be meeting Theresa in an hour. Could you...?"
Doyle sighed. "Okay. But you owe me."
"I know, I know." Bodie was pulling his jacket on. "Tell you what, me and Theresa are heading down to the family lodge next weekend. Do you and what's-her-name want to come?"
"Family lodge?" Doyle raised an eyebrow.
"Well, it's just a cottage, really. But plenty of fishing and they have some hunters down there for during the season."
"I'll have a word with Melissa, see what she says. But yeah, don't see why not."
"Bloody hell, Theresa, thought you said it was just a cottage." Bodie pulled the Capri in through the gates and began the journey up to the house. A large, grey stone building with all the charm of a lunatic asylum, it squatted on an overgrown lawn like a jellyfish on a rock.
"The usable bits just about make up a cottage," Theresa commented acidly. "Daddy doesn't see the point in maintaining it. He figures that if it gets into a bad enough state of repair, he'll be allowed to pull it down and build houses." She shrugged. "Jamie and I use it as much as we can, while we can. Daddy prefers the house in Hampshire."
"Oh, Bodie." Theresa kissed his cheek. "Don't go all disapproving and socialist on me."
"Who said anything about disapproving? This is envy."
Theresa laughed. "When are Ray and Melissa coming?"
"He had to work this afternoon. They should be here about seven, though."
"Oh good." Theresa was silent for a moment. "Bodie, why did you invite Ray?"
"Cause I owed him one. He cleared up some paperwork for me, so I could meet a date with you." He glanced over at her. "Why?"
"Well..." Theresa grinned. "I was just wondering if it had anything to do with the other night..."
Bodie shook his head. "Are we allowed to use the front door?" he asked, changing the subject.
"We're allowed to but we can't." She shrugged apologetically. "The hinges rusted in place about two years ago. We're best off going in through the stables. Round the back."
"Must be hard being an aristocrat nowadays," he commented.
"Oh, we aren't aristocrats," Theresa objected. "Daddy's only a baronet."
Bodie slammed on the brakes and the car screeched to a halt. "Get out now. I only want aristocrats telling me their perverted fantasies."
"You can pretend you're tumbling the upper housemaid," Theresa whispered. "I won't tell anybody."
Bodie considered it. "Do you have the uniform?"
"First thing I packed."
"You're on." Bodie grinned. That's what he loved about these upper class birds. The chance to prove to himself - and to them - that underneath the pearls and twinsets, they were exactly the same as every other woman.
He pulled up in the stableyard which, to his surprise, was in a much better state of repair than the house itself.
Theresa took in his expression. "Oh, Daddy doesn't mind if Jamie and I catch cold. But he refuses to let us risk the horses in the process."
"Should we sleep in the stables?"
She laughed. "Probably be drier. But you wouldn't catch many housemaids hanging around out here."
"Then where would I find them?" He grabbed her round the waist, pulled her close against him and kissed her.
Eventually, she pulled away. "The drawing room. Come on. Better get things set up for when Ray and Melissa get here. I've brought sandwiches for lunch." She pulled a face. "The kitchen'll need cleaning before I can do any cooking."
Bodie's plans for a leisurely enjoyment of the drawing room and associated amenities vanished in a flurry of dusting, scrubbing and, to his astonishment, removing dead pigeons from the chimney.
"Honestly," Theresa commented as she emerged from the fireplace, clutching a pathetic bundle of feathers. "How much would it cost for Daddy to have a grille put at the top of the chimney? But he simply won't do it." She passed the remains of the pigeon to Bodie. "Throw that in the outside bin, will you? And make sure you put the lid on or we'll be over-run with foxes."
Feeling slightly overwhelmed by Theresa's cabability, Bodie obeyed.
When he came back into the kitchen, Theresa had the sink filled with steaming hot water and was washing dishes.
"Hot water?" Bodie asked.
"The horses need it sometimes," she replied with a grin. "Jamie and I take shameless advantage."
"Hot baths?" Bodie asked hopefully.
"Steaming hot baths," she promised. "Complete with somebody to scrub your back."
"I think you need somebody to scrub your face." Bodie wet his finger in the sink, then wiped it over a streak of soot on Theresa's cheek. She stuck her tongue out and, when Bodie rested his finger on it, sucked the finger into her mouth. She gave Bodie a look that promised much, then spat the finger out.
"Did you wash that after swinging the pigeon round?"
Bodie had to admit that he hadn't.
"Go and wash and then we'll have lunch. In the drawing room."
Bodie had never washed so quickly in his life.
The drawing room wasn't quite what he'd expected. It was bare of furniture, other than a cheap sofa and coffee table, but the walls were covered with paintings in heavy gilt frames, with a subtle overtone of mould green, while the fire was flanked by a vast marble fireplace decorated with an orgy of grapes, satyrs, grapes, nymphs and a few more grapes.
"Monstrous, isn't it?" Theresa pushed the door open with her hip, holding a chipped plate piled with sandwiches and with an opened bottle of wine dangling from between her fingers. She carefully set these down on the coffee table before Bodie could relieve her of them. "I'll just go and get the glasses."
"I'll do it."
"You don't know where they are. Tuck in."
Bodie was on his second sandwich when she returned. As well as the glasses, she had a bag of crisps, a swiss roll and a large bowl of salad. "I know your appetite, Bodie," she commented with a grin.
Before she could sit down, Bodie grabbed her hips and pulled her on to his lap. "And what appetite might that be?" he asked.
She giggled. "La, sir, is that any question to ask an innocent housemaid?"
For an answer, Theresa kissed him. Slowly, she slid off his lap until she was kneeling between his legs. Bodie groaned as she began to undo his zip and his head fell back.
This groan had an entirely different sound and Bodie didn't open his eyes. "Piss off, Doyle." But it was no good. Theresa had swiftly made him decent and pulled herself to her feet. Now she was greeting Doyle as though she hadn't just been interrupted in the process of giving his mate a blowjob.
"Ray! We weren't expecting you until later."
"I noticed." Bodie opened his eyes in time to catch the dirty grin in his direction. He glowered. "I would've phoned but..."
"But we're not on the phone. Of course. Help yourself to a sandwich, by the way." Doyle did. "Where's Melissa?"
"Ah." Doyle frowned. "She won't be coming."
"She's not sick, is she?" Theresa looked concerned.
"Sick of me." Doyle shrugged. "I'm afraid you're lumbered with a threesome."
Bodie choked on his sandwich.
It was late by the time they all staggered to bed. Initial plans to go riding had been stopped by a sudden downpour that seemed set to go on all day and, possibly, all night. Bodie, suddenly feeling gloomy, predicted that it would no doubt last all weekend.
Robbed of any other occupation, Doyle had suggested poker.
Bodie had suggested alcohol.
Theresa had suggested combining the two and getting pissed while playing strip poker.
Eying Theresa appreciatively, Doyle had agreed and the party had promptly moved to the kitchen where the range would - hopefully - stop them turning blue. Entirely coincidentally, it also meant food and alcohol were closer to hand.
After several hours during which everybody seemed to lose equally, Theresa finally suggested bed.
They helped each other up the stairs and Bodie gazed around at the choice of bedrooms, dimly lit by the candle Theresa was carrying.
"There are only two that are dry," Theresa told them regretfully. She pointed to a doorway that looked the same as all the others. "That one's yours, Ray. Bodie and I are over here."
Doyle lurched into the doorframe. "G'night."
"Goodnight, sweet prince, goodnight, goodnight!" Theresa giggled as she and Bodie staggered through their doorway. "See you in the morning." She promptly cannoned into Bodie, who had stopped dead and was staring at the bed in astonishment.
"That's for us?" he asked.
Theresa smiled. "All ours."
The first thing Bodie had noticed was that it was four-poster. Although the hangings were long gone, the pillars still rose several feet above his head. The second was that it was easily big enough for a cricket team.
"Woohoo!" And, taking a running leap, Bodie catapulted himself into the centre of the bed.
Laughing, Theresa followed, landing just to one side of him.
Their giggles were interrupted by a muffled thud from over the landing. "Shit!"
"Shut up, Doyle!" Bodie yelled.
"No." Doyle appeared in the doorway. "My bed just fell apart."
"Oh, bugger." Bodie clambered off the bed. "Can you sleep on the mattress?"
"Don't be silly," Theresa interrupted. "He can sleep here."
Bodie suddenly felt cold - and it had nothing to do with the breeze creeping through the cracked landing window.
Doyle looked equally uncomfortable. "Nah, s'okay."
"Nonsense. There's plenty of room. And I'll go in the middle, so you don't have to worry about Bodie getting randy and confused in the middle of the night." She grinned. "We can sort out something proper in the morning."
And, despite Bodie's silent negative yells, Doyle finally nodded. "Ta, Theresa."
And somehow, Bodie wasn't surprised when Theresa reached out, took hold of Doyle's briefs and began to tug them down. "You won't need those."
Doyle didn't say anything but he glanced at Bodie, eyebrows raised in a vivid question mark. Bodie shrugged. "She's pissed," he mouthed.
"D'you mind?" Doyle mouthed back.
Bodie shrugged again. "Just a bird."
And Doyle let Theresa strip him, let her pull him on to the bed. Bodie leaned against the wall, shivering in the draught, and watched the bizarre, dreamlike sight of Doyle, skin pale in the flickering candlelight, exploring Theresa's body.
"Bodie." His gaze jerked upwards. Theresa was looking at him. "Come on. You can't stand there and freeze."
Reluctantly, Bodie peeled himself off the wall and began to approach the bed.
"Come on, Bodie. It's okay. You aren't in the kitchen."
"Huh?" Doyle looked up, confusion plain on his face.
Bodie smiled, suddenly reassured. "You're right, I'm not in the kitchen." He carefully settled on the bed, as far as possible from them, and tried to make himself comfortable under clammy blankets. "Wake me when it's my turn. Knowing him, it'll be about five minutes." He was expecting the thump to the ribs but Theresa's soft breath in his ear was a surprise.
"I think it's your turn now."
"I'm not doing anything," he whispered firmly.
"Not with him. But I could always use two pairs of hands."
Bodie swallowed against the sudden surge of arousal at the prospect of sharing Theresa with Doyle. "Promise it'll be male/female?"
And Bodie rolled over and kissed her. "Get under the covers. I don't want to screw a block of ice."
She laughed and wriggled in next to him. "Come on, Ray. You too."
Bodie was vaguely aware that Doyle was kissing around Theresa's neck, caressing her thighs and buttocks. But with her mouth teasing his throat, shoulders and back, with her hands fluttering over his chest, down to his stomach, caressing his cock, dipping between his thighs to cup his balls, he wasn't paying too much attention. It wasn't until he found himself obeying unspoken suggestions and rolling over to settle between her legs, leaning back against her breasts, head resting on her shoulder, that he froze. And she slid her hands over his shoulders, brushed his nipples, slipped her hands behind his back, and suddenly he was in a subtle armlock.
"Ray," she said. "Bodie wants you to give him a blowjob."
It wasn't a tough hold. He could easily have broken it. It wasn't really a hold at all - more a suggestion he stay still. But it was easier to lie there and obey.
God, the fantasy had been arousing enough, much as he longed to deny it. But lying there while Doyle kneeled next to him, rumpled and confused and drunk...
"Bodie?" Doyle asked.
No! he tried to scream. But instead he shrugged, nodded and looked away.
"A mouth's a mouth," he mumbled.
"Go on, Ray," Theresa whispered.
Doyle's eyes were bleary with drink as he settled himself between Bodie's legs. His hands trembled slightly as he caressed Bodie's stomach, down over his hips. He gave a hiss of laughter. "What the fuck am I doing?" he asked nobody.
He slowly licked along the underside of Bodie's erection. Swirled his tongue around the head. Opened his mouth and sucked it in.
Bodie hated himself as he lay there, gasping with pleasure. Theresa's hands over his chest and thighs were distraction. All he wanted was for Doyle to stay there for ever. He didn't know whether it was the alcohol, the situation or Doyle himself. He didn't care.
When he finally came, he hated himself and Theresa and Doyle and he didn't care in the slightest.
He mumbled a protest when Theresa pushed him over to lie on his stomach but it was ignored as Theresa pulled Doyle up and kissed him. Bodie propped himself up on his elbows and watched, feeling slightly sick, as Doyle settled himself between Theresa's legs.
"No, wait." Theresa pulled away from Doyle's mouth. "Don't fuck me."
"What?" Doyle seemed confused. "After all that, you say 'Don't fuck me'?" Confusion was turning into anger. "You litt-"
"Don't fuck me," Theresa repeated. "Fuck him."
Bodie experienced a wave of pure nausea. "No," he whispered. But nobody heard him.
"He wants it. Don't you, Bodie?"
Bodie collapsed on to the pillow. He wanted to deny it. Oh dear God, how he wanted to deny it. But he couldn't even open his mouth.
"No way." Doyle was kneeling at the end of the bed.
And to his shame, Bodie finally managed to speak. "Please," he whispered.
"Bodie?" His name was filled with surprise, confusion and, he was sure, disgust.
The only thing Bodie was sure of was that he wanted to be back home. He wanted to be able to wake up and find the whole thing had never happened. "I'm sure."
Doyle stretched out next to him, erection prodding Bodie's thigh. And somehow, Bodie was kissing him, clinging on as if Doyle were a lifebelt to reality. Though what sort of reality it was when he was kissing his partner, Bodie really didn't want to know.
Doyle seemed to take it as some sort of confirmation as he finally pulled away and turned to look at Theresa. "I take it you've got some lube?" he asked. His voice was hard.
"No need," Bodie muttered.
"I'm not ripping you to shreds." Doyle's voice had some softness to it now but he still sounded implacable. Bodie saw no point in arguing. Not when Theresa was fumbling in her bag.
"I didn't bring it for this," she said. "I didn't know this was going to happen."
Doyle was silent. "I believe you," he finally said. Then his hands were running down Bodie's back, callouses causing ripples of sensation. "You sure, Bodie?" he whispered, breath tickling Bodie's ear.
And even though he wasn't, Bodie nodded.
Doyle lightly kissed the back of his neck, kissed down his spine and paused at the cleft of his buttocks. Bodie whimpered and Doyle continued downwards, tongue probing. Bodie hissed and clenched his fists into the covers as Doyle licked around his anus.
"Relax, sunshine. You've got to relax." Bodie barely even registered the experience behind the words, concentrated on obeying. "Good lad."
Bodie's eyes shot open as Doyle's thumb, slick and cold, slipped between his buttocks.
"Relax. Come on, Bodie."
And he tried. God, he tried.
"S'okay, lad." Doyle must have wiped his thumb on something because when his hands settled on Bodie's back they were warm and comforting.
"Stop talking to me like I'm a sodding horse, Ray," Bodie managed. Doyle gave a snort of laughter in response.
"Sorry, Dobbin." His hands began a thorough, soothing massage of Bodie's back and, despite himself, Bodie found he was melting into the mattress.
"Let's try again." This time, Doyle's thumb slipped through the ring of muscle and Bodie gasped.
"Just fuck me, will you?"
Doyle's thumb stilled and Bodie heard his breath rasping. "Shut up, Bodie, or I will."
"Don't hurt him." Bodie had forgotten Theresa was there.
Doyle ignored her. "Give me a couple of minutes, Bodie."
"Get a move on."
It seemed an eternity before Doyle leaned over him, pressed his chest to Bodie's back, and kissed the back of his neck. "One last time. You sure you want this?"
"What do I have to do, tie you on your back and sit on you?"
Doyle didn't laugh. "I'm sorry, Bodie." And then was something blunt and hard and wet pushing into Bodie's arse. He tensed but Doyle's whispered incantations for him to relax slowly worked and Doyle pushed further into him.
Jesus Christ, it hurt.
And yet... There was a tingling in his nerves that was far from being unpleasant. And, as Doyle angled himself and pushed in still further, something ripped through him in a searing agony of pleasure.
Doyle's breath panted in his ear. "You like?" And he did it again. And again.
Bodie was floating in a place of pure physical, erotic, mind-blowing pleasure. The weight and warmth of Doyle against him; damp breath stirring his hair; lips and tongue and teeth on his shoulder; hands gripping his wrists; and, overwhelming it all, Doyle's cock moving inside him. His breath sobbed as he pounded his hips back against Doyle, rhythmless, formless.
"Steady, steady..." Doyle's whisper against his neck and he tried, God, he tried.
And then Doyle's grip tightened on his wrists. "Oh, shit," Doyle hissed and with one, two, three, rapid, sharp thrusts, he tensed and came.
Bodie lay silently, listening to the muffled, mumbled noises of Doyle and Theresa falling asleep. A hand reached out and rubbed his back but it was gone too quickly for him to tell who it was. Eventually, he closed his eyes and tried to sleep.
Bodie tensed, paused for a moment, then resumed packing his bag. "What?" He was nauseatingly aware of Theresa walking up to him but still flinched when she rested her hand on his back.
"I'm sorry, Bodie."
"What for?" He straightened, walked away, picked up a shirt from the floor.
"I. It was stupid of me. I should have known you didn't want to..." Her voice trailed off.
"Didn't want to what?" Finally, Bodie managed to face her. She shouldn't have looked exactly the same as before. She shouldn't have looked so bloody clean and normal and fresh. He turned away and shoved the shirt into his bag.
"Bodie." She glared at him. "You know what I'm talking about."
"Do I?" Face deliberately expressionless, he zipped the bag closed. "I'll give you a lift to the train station if you want."
"Bodie, don't run off like this. Please."
"Who said anything about running?" Bodie picked up the suitcase. "Me and Doyle are needed back on duty. Ask him yourself."
"Then why didn't he say anything yesterday? Why did he only remember this morning?" Bodie swallowed as Theresa grabbed his arm. "Why did he only remember after last night?"
He pulled loose, glared at the wall. "You'll have to ask him."
"Please don't do this to me."
Bodie shut his eyes, tried to breathe, tried not to shout and knock her through the wall. And managed to walk out the room.
-- THE END --