A New Season


He'd finally gotten what he wanted -- and suddenly he wasn't sure he could handle it. Being the focus of Bodie's unleashed, overwhelming masculinity was a daunting experience. Ray Doyle had spent much of his life struggling to create a macho image, to overcome the handicap of a head full of curls and big green eyes. No one seemed to think he looked tough; even a broken cheekbone, earned in a brawl to prove just that, wasn't enough to alter the image. Until he'd pushed his way into CI5 and held his own, even against the likes of Bodie. His partner...

Who was even now leaning down over him, mouth burning the length of his jaw, biting, nibbling, suckling, sending rivulets of excitement racing down Doyle's spine. Oh, he wanted this badly. He'd fought tooth and nail for years to get this man to let him through the carefully nurtured walls that kept everyone else at bay. So why was he suddenly balking at the very moment of triumph? It was ridiculous! But he felt so small in Bodie's fierce embrace, the other man's heavy weight bearing him down, his own slender body captured beneath the long-limbed force of steel-muscled strength...

"Ray, what's wrong?" Lost in his own thoughts, Doyle hadn't realised his tension had communicated itself to his partner, but it had. Bodie had drawn back, reared up to support himself on large hands pressed into the mattress beside Doyle's shoulders. It was like laying beneath a pouncing tiger, sleek and powerful, and Doyle couldn't help pushing Bodie away, squirming up to a sitting position. Yet when he turned back to look at Bodie, it was to find those startlingly blue eyes gazing at him with open vulnerability. Immediately, a fiery rush of protective love swooped back down upon him, staggering him beneath the onslaught. He reached out a trembling hand.

"It's not you, Bodie. 'S me." The words were hard to find; he settled painfully for a partial truth. "I've never done this before, not with another man." He shrugged his shoulders, then reached out to stroke the hard line of Bodie's jaw. "But I want to, really; I just don't know what to expect."

The uncertainty in those beautiful dark eyes faded into a gleam of heated mischief. Bodie leaned in closer, pressing a kiss into Doyle's forehead. "Not so much different than with a girl, you know." He pulled back, tilting his head until their noses were nearly touching. "I can't believe a randy sod like you never tried it, not even once."

Doyle chuckled, though retaining a nervous edge. "Just always preferred girls, I guess," he replied, skirting around the truth. Bodie only caught the words, and laughed openly.

"Noticed that. And I do too...'til I met you." He eyed Doyle up and down, pleasure softening his expression. "Beautiful, you are."

Doyle froze, lifted his hands instinctively to shove Bodie away. Bodie went easily, falling backwards to roll onto his side. His attention was captured now, and he gazed back with a wounded pout. "What's really the matter, Ray?" He sat up and leaned in closer, studying his partner who was now refusing to look him in the eyes. Doyle's body was tensed, the fight or flight instinct in full gear, muscles in his shoulders and forearms twitching.

Confused, Bodie took hold of Doyle's arm and pulled him back around.

"Ray!" he demanded again. "I thought this was what you wanted."

"It is!" Doyle responded, finally lifting his green eyes to mesh with Bodie's blue. "I just..."

Understanding struck Bodie hard, and he couldn't help it -- he laughed again. Doyle frowned, his ire rising. The spark of anger in Doyle's expressive face broke through, and Bodie swallowed his mirth.

"You..." he declaimed seriously, tapping at Doyle's chin with a blunt forefinger, "You just want to be on top, doncha?"

"Wha-?" Doyle reared back, stunned by the sudden perceptiveness from his partner. Bodie simply grinned, a full-strength, beaming smile.

"I know you, don't I?" Bodie responded. He wrapped an arm around Doyle's shoulders and pulled him against his chest. His voice, when he spoke again, was slow and deliberate. "Look, Ray, I won't play permanent bottom man for anyone, not even you, but I have no trouble sharing. Tha's what it should be, right? Equal partnership, like when we're working. Sometimes you take charge, sometimes I do. Share and share alike."

Punctuating the last sentence with nuzzling kisses against Doyle's cheek, Bodie waited patiently for the reply. He knew his partner well, had been fully cognisant of all of Doyle's manoeuvres since the cataclysmic holidays. The barriers hadn't broken easily or painlessly, but once they'd tumbled around him, the ever- pragmatic Bodie had settled back to enjoy his best mate's protectiveness. He had surprised himself by how much pleasure he took from watching Doyle hover over him; and all amusement aside, he'd treasured every moment of the attention. Even so, he understood his partner far better than he had ever managed to understand himself, and it really wasn't difficult to figure Doyle's problem -- the contrary bastard simply didn't want to give up the driver's seat.

Similar thoughts were racing through Doyle's mind. The two men were rarely out-of-synch, and what Bodie said made perfect sense to his fiery partner. Doyle, for all his quicksilver nature, could be remarkably practical when it truly mattered.

"Makes sense," he agreed solemnly, then with a glint of mischief in his eyes, he twisted around in Bodie embrace to lean up over the other man. "And it's my turn first!"

Pushing Bodie down onto the pillows, he began a slow, painstaking exploration of the other man's face. Sensitive fingers began, loving lips followed, his tongue a flicker of hot moisture that darted to and fro, leaving an electric trail of sensation behind. Bodie's skin was satin-smooth, the fine bone-structure an artist's dream. Doyle memorised the long-familiar features yet again, this time with hungry hands and starving mouth. He nibbled at the flared end of the nose, licked along the length of the high-arced cheekbone, buried long fingers into the thick, cropped hair, marvelling at the silken feel.

Bodie groaned softly, beginning to respond, twisting his head to seek Doyle's mouth with his own, but the ex-cop was determined to keep control this first time through. Perhaps giving it up in turn would not be so bad, a fair trade he could learn he to accept, but this moment was his. He had dreamed of it a thousand times over, and he set out to demand its fulfilment without compromise.

He let Bodie's mouth catch up with his own, and he took it with fierce thrusts of his tongue, his hips grinding downward in matching motion, rubbing his throbbing groin into the answering heat of his partner's, delighting in the friction, undulating like an eel across the bigger man's frame.

Bodie grasped for him, struggling instinctively to capture the source of those tantalising sensations, but Doyle wriggled free, drawing his mouth away just long enough to gasp for breath -- and then to seize Bodie's wrists and pin them to his sides.

"Don't move," he demanded hoarsely before lowering his mouth again. That heady sweetness was not to be denied, Bodie tasted of scotch and chocolate, mixed with sharpness that was all his own. Doyle suckled on him, teasing Bodie's tongue until it darted upwards into his mouth, and then drew on it, captured and held it, then released it with a downward thrust of his own. Bodie fought back, returning the suction, forcing a wave of fire to burst down Doyle's spine to pool in his aching groin. It was desperately hard to pull away, but Doyle wanted more -- needed more -- and he reared back to tear at their clothing with passion-fumbled fingers.

Bodie wasn't far behind, and Doyle accepted the help with this nuisance of a task, sighing with satisfaction when it was finally done, and he could feast first his eyes, and then his hands, upon the naked length of his partner's flesh. Bodie was beautiful, in the way a man can be, all hardness and sinew, muscle and velvet skin, the ripples of steely strength gloved in softness.

Doyle touched every bit he could reach, from head to toe and back again. He nuzzled at the smoothness of the chest, nibbled at the puckered nipples, buried fingers into the rich ebony curls nestling at the juncture of the hard, massive thighs. And from there, he settled with a moan of satisfaction upon the thrusting, already-weeping genitals.

Bodie arched, twisted, trembled beneath Doyle's touch, every sound, every motion tinder to his partner's desire. Ray wanted to make this unforgettable, he ransacked every experience, every tidbit of knowledge, every secret fantasy for ideas; he let his imagination run riot. He thumbed the tip of the silken-coated cock, drew it into his mouth, tasted it, suckled it, drew away and teased it, closed back down upon it with a firm and certain palm, lowered the heat of his breath, then watched the effect of cooling moisture on the steaming flesh. Bodie's hips thrust, rocked, violently in response, hands tugged helplessly at Doyle's hair and shoulders, the ragged hiss of his breath begging for final release, expressing a need so intense it sheared away any rationality in a firestorm of desperation.

"Raaayyyy! " Bodie finally screamed aloud, and Ray, exultant with the passion of that cry, swooped down to pump the bursting organ into his throat, grazing the vein with the edges of his teeth, swallowing compulsively, then milking the final creamy drops, as Bodie exploded in a bucking frenzy beneath him.

They collapsed together, Doyle sprawling lazily across Bodie's abdomen, sheepishly realising he'd spent himself as well, spilling wet heat across Bodie's calves, the bedspread and his own abdomen. Messy, he thought, unable to fully bring any kind of irritation to bear. A minor cleanup a tiny price to pay for the bone-melting sense of satisfaction that filled his every pore.

Bodie reached down and tugged Doyle up across him, stopping only when he could rest Doyle's head against his shoulder and bury his chin in the tousled mat of auburn curls. Doyle wrapped an arm around Bodie's shoulder, tucked one leg between both of Bodie's and slipped peacefully into an easy doze...

And awoke an unknown while later to find himself laying on his back, Bodie's full-lipped mouth tugging sweetly, sharply, on his right nipple. Sensation arrowed its way to his groin, and he stirred, his voice thick with a mixture of irritation and growing desire.

"Bodie, what're you doing?"

"What do you think I'm doing, mate?" Bodie lifted his head up long enough to reply, then put his highly effective mouth back to more productive use.

Doyle groaned despite himself, his body stirring back to rigid attention. "Bodie..." he gasped.

His partner swiftly rose upward to shut off Doyle's words with a searing kiss, then he rubbed noses and looked happily down into hazy green eyes. His voice was bright with anticipation as he reminded Ray firmly...

" 'S my turn now!"

Lost easily beneath the onslaught of Bodie's passion, Ray could only wonder, for a fleeting instant, why on earth either one of them had ever been foolish enough to resist this moment. Then sensation overwhelmed his mind, shattered the last remaining fears. Ghosts, past and present, were consumed in a passionate storm of desire. Ancient wounds were cauterised by a laser lance of love. And the cold loneliness of a winter holiday ended in a spring of hope and belonging.

-- THE END --

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