As they left Marge's place, Doyle was frowning and trying to squeeze his gloved hand into the pocket of his tight jeans. When they got to the car, his continuing struggle was illuminated by the streetlight under which they had parked it, and he swore softly as the desired item slipped from his leather-clothed fingers again.

Bodie smiled and strode closer. "What have I told you about getting the car keys out before you put your gloves on?"

"You can talk," Doyle said, raising an eyebrow as his partner drew even closer and took hold of the hand he had been trying to get hold of the keys with. "You don't even take your gloves off in-"

Before he could say "bed", Doyle was cut off as Bodie thrust his own gloved hand into his pocket. Their faces were just inches apart as Bodie rooted around, and Doyle could not help closing his eyes and sighing quietly as he felt his cock begin to stiffen at the repeated caresses. When he opened them again, he saw that Bodie was sticking his tongue out and pulling a face as he continued the search -- not exactly his sexiest look, but it was just so him and he loved it.

"Haven't you found them yet?" Doyle asked hoarsely, now thoroughly distracted from their orders for the evening. The sudden intensity between them was overwhelming him.

Just then, Bodie pulled the keys jingling from his partner's pocket and gave a little laugh. "There you go! That'll teach you not to wear such tight jeans..." He smirked and opened the car, leaving Doyle standing behind him with his eyebrows raised.

"Wait a minute!" Doyle said. "We can't just go cat-burgling after that! I need..." He trailed off, knowing that there was not time for them to fulfil their urges now.

Bodie turned round to him. "I'm sorry, darling," he said in a mock-posh accent, "but orders are orders. Now get in the car, and I'll finish you off later when we get home."

Doyle scowled and went round to the other side of the car. "If we get home." As they sped towards the house that was their first target, all he could do was watch Bodie's hands on the steering wheel and hope that he would wear his gloves to bed later.

-- THE END --

June 2008