Doyle was sulking. Here they were with their first free weekend in ages. His date had gotten sick, and now Bodie wasn't available. It wasn't as if he'd waited 'til the last minute, either. He'd called him Friday night, after all. Late Friday night, admittedly, but it wasn't as if he'd left it 'til Saturday morning as he'd sometimes done.

It wasn't fair. Bodie'd always been available before. Now what was he going to do? He didn't want to spend the weekend on his own. What he wanted was to be with someone who could help him relax, after all the tension-filled weeks he'd put in, and it was much too late to call another girl. He had trouble enough keeping girl-friends when he was forever having to leave them in the middle of a date without antagonizing them at the beginning by not calling until the day he wanted to take them out, or even the night before.

"Damn!" A pillow went flying across the room. "Damn! Damn!! DAMN!!!" He reached for the bottle of whiskey on the table by the sofa he was sprawled upon, then stopped. After all, he didn't want to get drunk, just unwind. He wanted to be with Bodie. "Oh, the hell with it." Turning off the light, he stomped into the bedroom, kicking the pillow in passing. He undressed and threw himself onto the bed with total disregard for the springs, then flicked off the light and lay there staring at the bedside clock as it showed the passing of the minutes, one by one.

---

He was dreaming. He knew he was dreaming. Laying there, he watched the dream unfold on the back of his eyelids, like a videotape on the telly, occasionally making comments to himself about it.

He was in a lift. And, like the one on the Enterprise, it moved sideways as well as up and down. The lift was in a hotel. A large hotel. Unlike the lift on the Enterprise, this one stopped at every room and the door opened, allowing him to see into the room.

Each room had a bed, and each bed had two people in it, making love. One of the two people was always a tall, well-built, black-haired man. He could never see the second person, it was always only a vague shape. As each door opened, the people were farther along in their activities. Doyle felt like a voyeur as the lift door continued to open. The people in the rooms gave no indication that they knew he was there. He was getting more and more turned on as he gazed into room after room. His hands were somehow restricted so he couldn't touch himself. All he could do was watch, and the longing built in him to be one of those partners.

Finally, the lift came to the penthouse and stopped. He knew, somehow, that this was the final stop. He stepped forward into the room. This room was different from the others. Instead of a bed, there was a table, and on the table was a sheet cake larger than any he had ever seen. It was topped with mounds of white fluffy frosting piped into swirls and fancy designs. In front of the cake, his back to the door, stood the black-haired man. In his hand was a knife, and he was cutting the cake. As Doyle walked through the door the man turned, knife in one hand, piece of cake in the other. It was Bodie.

Neither of them spoke. Bodie stood by the table, knife held like a sword, and voluptuously licked the icing from the cake. Doyle advanced, all his attention focused on the knife. It was over a foot long, but very narrow, no more than 3/4" wide.

As he stopped in front of Bodie, the watching Doyle realized that his alter ego was completely nude, while Bodie was dressed in a black polo and close-fitting black spandex trousers. Doyle's cock was fully engorged and standing out at the same angle at which Bodie was holding the knife.

Bodie motioned to Doyle and he turned and bent over the table. Bodie stepped behind him and carefully inserted the icing-covered knife into Doyle's anus. The watching Doyle was interested to see that it must be a telescoping knife, as Bodie was able to inset it to its hilt. Somehow, he could feel what his alter ego felt and he was amazed to find that as the knife was inserted into him it didn't feel like a flat piece of steel, at all. Instead it felt round and thick and it filled him completely. He strained back against it, wanting more, even when he had taken it all. He was almost overwhelmed by the sensations sky-rocketing throughout his nerve endings.

---

BRRRING-BRRING. Doyle woke with a start. His first thought was that it was a good thing it wasn't a real knife, so no one could see what he'd been up to, even though there was no one there to see anything. BRRRING-BRRRING. His second thought was 'Christ, it's Cowley. There goes the week-end.' His cock was aching and he reached for it involuntarily. BRRRING-BRRRING. He picked up the phone and growled his number into it.

"Wakey, wakey, sunshine."

Doyle's body went rigid and his hand clenched on his cock, which spasmed immediately at the sound of Bodie's voice. He lay flat on the bed, head spinning, gasping for breath, totally unable to answer. A flush spread over his face for having done such a thing while on the phone with his partner.

"Doyle. Are you there? Ray? Answer me!"

The anxiety in Bodie's voice finally getting through to him, Ray finally managed to answer. "Yes. Sorry. I'm here."

"What's wrong? You sound funny."

"Nothing. Just...." How could he possibly explain. "Nothing's wrong. I'm fine. What's up?"

"Huh? Oh." Bodie forced his mind back to the reason for his call. "Just wanted to tell you we could spend the day together, after all. If you still want to. Pick you up in fifteen minutes, shall I?"

"Yeah. That'd be fine. See you then." He lay there for a few minutes after he hung up, thinking about the weird dream he'd just had and its aftermath. Giving up on making any sense out of it he got up and went to have a cool shower and get dressed before Bodie arrived.

---

Bodie hung up the phone and swore at himself. There he went, giving in to the little sod like he always did. He'd been determined not to do it again, so what happened? He couldn't even hold out for twenty-four hours. He didn't see why he should always be at Doyle's beck and call when his other plans fell through. He hadn't had any plans for today, but had said he did when Doyle called last night, and been proud of himself for doing so. Now he felt nothing but contempt for his behaviour.

It wasn't that he didn't like to spend time with Doyle. On the contrary, he preferred to be with him more than with anyone else. It was only that he'd like to come first with Doyle for a change, rather than be a last resort.

He knew he was being unfair. He and Doyle often made plans in advance to spend time together. It was just that Doyle always assumed that he never had any plans of his own and would be ready at a moment's notice to fall in with whatever Doyle wanted to do. The fact that that was often true, and that even if he had a date he'd break it to spend time with Doyle, was beside the point. He didn't like being taken for granted.

Oh, well, now that he'd committed himself, he'd better get a move on. Doyle would be expecting him.

---

It'd been a relaxing day. They'd driven out to Richmond Park and Jogged to the top where they relaxed as they stared out over the countryside, pleased that it was clear enough to see St. Paul's. They they'd jogged back down and drove back to Doyle's flat, stopping on the way for an early pub lunch. They consulted a cinema guide, then took the tube to Leicester Square station. They arrived at the Odeon just in time for the show. Bodie crunched his way through the sweet popcorn he loved and had a great time.

Doyle had trouble concentrating on the film. He had been overly conscious of Bodie all day. He attributed this to his dream, which he refused to think about , though he couldn't entirely banish it from his mind. Now that they were sitting in the dark, in such close proximity, he found himself becoming mildly aroused. The feeling grew the longer they sat there.

Finally, he was forced to consider what was happening. Obviously, for some unknown reason, he was physically attracted to his partner. He didn't know why, since he'd never been interested in men before, but it was an incontrovertible fact, so he was just going to have to deal with it. Whatever happened, he couldn't let Bodie know. Bodie had never shown any signs of being interested in his own sex, and Doyle didn't want to lose him as a friend, which would surely happen if he knew how Doyle felt about him. Maybe he should spend less time with his partner off-duty. Maybe then these feelings would go away as suddenly as they'd come. It was all he could think of to do. Having come to as much of a decision as he could, he forced himself to concentrate on the rest of the film.

"What d'you want to do for dinner?" Bodie asked as they left the theatre.

"Dinner? Aren't you full after eating all that popcorn?"

"Nah. That was just a snack. I'm a growing boy, I am. Need my three square meals a day."

"Yeah, and that's the shape you'll be, too, if you don't watch it," Doyle teased. "How about Mexican? We're right here." He indicated the nearby restaurant.

"Not tonight. Why don't we pick up some Indian takeaway at that place near your flat, then watch the cricket match on the telly? I quite fancy a nice curry."

This suggestion didn't appeal to Doyle at all. he had never really understood the fascination cricket held for his partner, but over the years he'd resigned himself to spending several hours of his time -- at fairly regular intervals -- watching a game he had no interest in whatsoever, so that wasn't the problem. The thing was, he really didn't want to spend that much more time in such close proximity to his partner. However, since he couldn't explain why, and since Bodie'd gone along with his suggestions all day long, he couldn't really refuse.

"All right," he agreed, after only a slight hesitation. "Why not?"

"Great," Bodie said. "Beat you to the train." And he took off at a run.

Doyle shook his head over what a kid Bodie could be when he wanted and then hared off after him, beating him only because Bodie had to wait for a little old lady to totter through the turnstile.

When they got to the take-away, Bodie went wild, ordering curry, vindaloo, rutee, and a dozen other different things that he claimed were all his favorites.

"You realize we're never going to be able to eat all this, don't you?" Ray protested.

"That's okay. What we don't polish off tonight, we can heat up tomorrow night. 'S always better the second night, anyway."

"All right. Whatever you want." Doyle gave in without arguing. Anyway, since Bodie was paying for the food, he was entitled to order whatever he wanted.

Back at Doyle's block of flats, he headed instinctively for the stairs.

"C'mon, mate," Bodie protested, trying to balance several hot containers of food without dropping them; Doyle, of course, having picked up the smallest and easiest to handle. "Let's take the lift for a change. I know you don't like it, but if we take the stairs, we're liable to end up eating dinner off the floor about half-way up."

Doyle reluctantly came back down and pushed the lift button. When it arrived they fitted themselves into it. This was Doyle's main objection to it. It was so small that two adults could only just fit into it. He'd seen broom closets that were larger. His other objection was that it moved so slowly he was always afraid it was one day going to come to a stop between floors.

Today, however, his reluctance was for a different reason. The instant the door closed it was as if he were right back in his dream. His arousal returned full force. It felt like every millimetre of his skin was sensitive to his partner, and the sound of his voice was almost enough to make him come right there in the lift.

As soon as the door opened, he was out and headed towards his flat. He got the door open in record time and headed for the kitchen to put down the food so he could escape to the loo for long enough to get himself under control. Unfortunately, Bodie was closer behind him than he'd thought and when he turned from the counter he found himself all but in his partner's arms.

He couldn't move without knocking Bodie over and/or knocking the food containers out of his hands. That meant he was trapped between his partner and the counter while Bodie hurriedly set everything down. The closeness was too much for him. His senses were overwhelmed by the stimulus they were receiving.

Not realizing what was happening to Doyle, Bodie opened one box containing a cake which he had picked up on the way and, on the theory that if you ate dessert first you'd be sure to have room for it, reached over and picked up a knife off the drain board to cut it with. He started to step around Doyle and then stopped, knife in hand, and stared at him, as it suddenly dawned on him that Doyle was doing a very good imitation of a statue.

"Are you all right, mate?" Bodie asked.

Suddenly seeing his fantasy coming true, even to Bodie dressed in black, Doyle made a small sound in his throat and thrust forward once. The movement pressed his aching cock against Bodie's thigh. He drew back in horror and froze again, eyes squinched shut, almost cowering in front of his partner, as he waited for all hell to break loose.

Bodie stared at Doyle unbelievingly. He couldn't have seen -- heard -- felt -- what had just happened. Could he? Surely it must have been his overheated imagination. But, if Doyle hadn't done what he though he had, why was he standing there cringing?

"Ray?" he queried. His voice almost breaking on the word.

Galvanized by the sound of Bodie's voice, Doyle suddenly moved to duck around Bodie and get out of the room. Bodie was too fast for him, though; and, dropping the knife so he could grab Ray by the shoulders, he looked him up and down. It was all too obvious what kind of state he was in. Not understanding the 'why', though the 'what' was obvious, Bodie decided to chance his all.

Still holding him by the shoulders, Bodie leaned over and brushed his lips across Doyle's. That touch was all it took. Doyle attached himself to Bodie's mouth like a lamprey and pressed himself tightly against the other man as if he were trying to get inside his skin. He wrapped his arms around Bodie and held him as tightly as he could. Bodie reciprocated eagerly and the kiss seemed to go on forever. When they finally had to breathe or faint from asphyxiation, they reluctantly moved a minimal distance apart.

"What...?" Bodie started to ask.

Doyle, however, was in no mood for conversation. His cock hard and aching, his veins on fire, his skin aching for contact with the other man, his only interest was in getting both of them undressed and satisfying his need. Here. Now. IMMEDIATELY. He was trying to undress himself with one hand and Bodie with the other, and, therefore, not accomplishing either.

Now almost as hot as Ray, Bodie pushed him aside and stripped quickly, then finished undressing Doyle and pulled him into another tight embrace. Doyle thrust against him several times then stiffened and pushed himself away.

"No," he gasped. "Not like that." He moved over to the table and, shoving what few items there were on it aside, leaned across it. "Take me, Bodie. Please." he added desperately.

Bodie was almost beyond rational thought by this time. He did manage to reach into the cupboard for a bottle of salad oil to lubricate himself, then he was pushing into the tight -- so very tight -- channel. He almost stopped then, but Doyle gave a cry and pushed back, impaling himself on Bodie's cock.

They both froze for a long moment, then Bodie pulled out and thrust in again with long, almost fierce, strokes. Once, twice, and the pressure of Bodie's cock against his prostate caused Doyle to climax with another wild cry. A third stroke, a fourth, and Bodie was there, also, coming with a force he hadn't known for a long time.

Long moments later, when his heart had slowed down to a mild stampede, Bodie pushed himself up off Doyle and carefully withdrew from him. He checked him and found a small trace of blood. He wiped him clean with a dish cloth and pulled him up and into his arms. Ray was so sated he could barely stand. Bodie didn't know which he wanted to do first, question him about what had just happened and why, or cover him from head to toe with kisses, learning every inch of him. Whichever, this was not the right place for either activity.

He maneuvered Doyle into the bedroom then went into the bathroom. After cleaning himself up, he rummaged around through the medicine chest in the bathroom until he found a tube of antiseptic cream. He soaped a face flannel and took both into the bedroom where, rolling Doyle onto his face he carefully washed him and applied a generous amount of cream. Then, dropping both flannel and cream on the floor, he crawled into bed and pulled Ray into his arms. He lay there, dozing a bit, until Doyle finally showed signs of returning to life. Ray slowly opened his eyes and favored Bodie with a beatific smile.

"Now, what was all that about, lover?" Bodie asked, savoring the word.

Doyle kissed him slowly, thoroughly, making it last as long as he could. "Would you believe I had a dream?" he asked.

-- THE END --

(To be continued. Next time.)