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Taken for Yet Another Ride


This is third in a trilogy, following Morning Thoughts and Evening Reflections

(for EW)


Doyle shivered. "S'cold."

"Yeah, well if you will insist on have the atmospherics right," Bodie's voice complained in the darkness, "I dunno, Ray, a dark, deserted country lane, on a night like this. It's gotta be at least 20 below."

"Gotta have the right settin' sunshine," Doyle informed him. He looked across at Bodie's pale face, saw that he was shivering too, arms hugging his waist to try and keep warm.

"I haven't gone to all this trouble for nothin', have I?" Doyle asked suspiciously, "s'not one of your elaborate jokes? I mean, you were tellin' the truth when you said you'd never done it in a car?"

"Never even got close to it, mate, not even in my misspent youth," Bodie's disembodied voice admitted from the shadows, "A sadly lackin' area of my education it is," with deepfelt regret.

"That's what I thought," Doyle said, "so, cold as it is, it's a situation that's gotta be rectified as soon as possible. While you're still young enough to enjoy it. God, Bodie, you haven't lived if you've never done it in a car."

"So you keep saying," Bodie said on a deep shiver, "and I'm turnin' to ice over here, so you gonna have your wicked way with me in the back like you promised?"

"Not necessarily...maybe in the front...if I could only get these bloody seats to recline," Doyle complained, fumbling irritably by the side of his seat.

"Hopeless," Bodie sighed, "the little lever by the side," fiddling himself, "there..." as both seats suddenly shot back all the way with no warning and they landed flat on their backs in a confused tangle, facing each other.

"Well, I didn't know, did I?" Doyle pointed out, hating to be found wanting in any area, "s'your bloody car."

"And why did we pick it?" Bodie reminded him patiently.

"All right, all right, cos it's bigger..."

"...and there's more room in a Capri than an Escort," Bodie finished smugly.

Doyle gave a very voluble shiver.

"Hang on, blanket on the back seat," Bodie said, reaching for it, "there you go," covering them both with it.

Doyle hitched over to him, put his arms round his waist, snuggled his head on his shoulder. "Ok, now we're here..." he began, voice softening.

"What?" Bodie looked down at the mess of curls on his shoulder.

"Well, the mood's hardly right is it?" Doyle muttered, "this is a very romantic situation, in case you hadn't noticed mate, and I've gone to a lot of trouble to complete your education - comin' out on a freezing night like this, drivin' bloody miles to find the right secluded spot, and here you are, havin' a go as usual, when we should be all soft and lovin'."

"Havin' a go? What's that?" Bodie asked in gentle outrage, "would I do that to you? Come one, Ray, be fair. Never had a go at you in my life."

"Nah, course you haven't," Doyle chuckled, cuddling close.

"So quiet," Bodie said softly after a moment, "not a sound," looking through the window to the pitch blackness outside. "Weird, cuddlin' in the dark in the car. Spend so many workin' hours in here, feels strange to be usin' it for this."

"Just think of the memories we'll have though, after tonight," Doyle whispered confidentially, nuzzling at his ear, "every time we get in the car from now on we'll remember what happened on this night."

Bodie looked down at him again, pulling a face. "Gettin' a bit carried away, aren't we? Why so poetic all at once?"

"I told you, Doyle said impatiently, "it's supposed to be a very romantic situation. Come on, Bodie, go along with it. Make it special." He shivered again. "Only hope it's not too cold."

"Well, we only need to take the essentials off, don't we?" Bodie suggested, "I mean we can keep our shoes and socks and gloves and scarves on," with a very straight face.

"Oh no, not gloves sunshine. Don't wanna spoil all the tactile sensations, do we?" Doyle protested. He gave Bodie's ear another quick nuzzle, then lay down flat on his back. "Go on then, I'm waiting..

"Thought it was you who was gonna seduce me?" Bodie reminded him, "quite fancy being seduced. Hasn't happened since I was 15."

"Oh yeah, so I was," Doyle said, as if he'd only just remembered, rolling back on top of him, "Mmm, you're cuddly with all these layers of clothes on," burrowing under Bodie's jacket, sweater and shirt with great difficulty to find the barest inch of warm skin on his stomach.

"Hands're cold," Bodie shivered, "bloody crazy this you know. But if we're gonna do it, stick to the essentials, eh? We'll freeze otherwise."

"What essentials did you have in mind?" Doyle asked invitingly running his hands up and down Bodie's fully clothed body.

"Well, I'd say my mouth needs a bit of attention for a start," Bodie suggested, "could eat you up when I'm kissin' you, you taste so good," his mouth covering Doyle's possessively, hands running up and down his back, underneath his thick, woolly jacket, kneading twin mounds of jean-clad buttock.

"More," Doyle demanded, nip kissing his way over Bodie's face, then outlining Bodie's parted lips with his tongue, moistening them before his tongue probed between them.

Bodie's arms tightened round him, loving the heat of the heavy, relaxed body lying on top of him and the inviting, protruding hardness there already between Doyle's legs.

"Curl on your side," Bodie whispered after a while, "keep warm that way, too."

Doyle drew his knees up, sliding down till the bulk of his weight was between Bodie's splayed legs, pushing Bodie's sweater and shirt up so he could worm his hand inside to find, warm, smooth skin.

"Lovely skin," he whispered, "just as velvety smooth down here too," as he undid Bodie's cords and slid his hand inside, kneading Bodie's hardening sex through then briefs.

"Hot too," Doyle added appreciatively, "very impressive. All for me, is it?"

"All for you," Bodie huskily agreed, "just straighten your left leg a bit, then I can...yeah, that's it," his hand undoing Doyle's jeans and squeezing inside.

He kissed Doyle's forehead, loving being able to stroke him and feel Doyle caressing him at the same time.

"How'd you like it best?" Bodie asked, "when we do it like this? Which way's the biggest turn on for you?"

"Any way long as it's you," Doyle sighed, "like this, through my pants if you like. The friction makes it good. Can feel it all. You've got it just right."

"Good," Bodie kissed the top of his head, "I like it harder."

"Know you do," Doyle said, "no need to drop hints. Just let me get into my stride," increasing the pressure of his hand, pushing down hard on the thickening shaft, "and you like this too," as a fingertip teased the head, making Bodie draw in his breath.

"And this," Doyle went on, "come on, move on your side so I can do it to you," sliding his other hand down the back of Bodie's cords and finding the cleft between his buttocks, exploring till the tight pucker of flesh closed round his probing finger, making Bodie sigh at the double stimulus.

"Wanna do this every time I see you in these cream pants," Doyle panted, "so tight, can see everythin'."

He paused, listening to Bodie's quickening breathing in his ear. "Wanna make you come first," he added at last.

"No, together," Bodie objected, "or as near as we can make it...oh, don't Ray, too sweet...too much..."

Doyle withdrew his finger, allowing it to rim the outside of the tender circle of flesh instead.

"Better?"

"Better," Bodie sighed, "tickles...

One hand was stroking Doyle's arse through his jeans. "Can't reach you."

"Doesn't matter," Doyle murmured, sighing at the rich, detailed stroking of his cock, "talk to me instead, tell me how you feel," wondering if Bodie would take him up on the offer for Bodie was sometimes still shy about verbalising his feelings. So much so Doyle had often wondered if his own graphic vocabulary when they were making love was too explicit for him. Maybe not though... Bodie seemed to enjoy it, and it always seemed to excite him too, like the comment Doyle had just made about the tightness of his cream pants. He'd felt Bodie throb more urgently in his hand when he'd said that. Still Doyle wasn't sure, for he was used to having to get Bodie wild with desire before he'd say the really intimate things Doyle loved to hear, which was why it was such a surprise when Bodie suddenly said, "Know which trousers I love to see you in?" his voice husky and excited.

"No. These? The jeans?"

"Nah. You don't wear 'em very often, and when you do...Christ Ray, turns me on so much I can hardly bear to look at you. Look so big in them."

"Go on, then tell me," Bodie persevered, "which ones? Don't keep me in suspense," puzzling over it, his mind blank. "The cream ones I've got?"

"Nah," Bodie insisted derogatively again, "nowhere near mate. It's those faded, green ones."

"Oh, those. The moleskin ones. Yeah, bloody murder to wear they are. Too tight mate. That's why you don't see 'em very often. But if they turn you on so much I'll have to see what I can do."

"How's that?" Bodie asked, his hand worming inside Doyle's briefs, "God you're hard."

"So're you, I'd say we were about even," Doyle gasped, "oh, yeah, oh, I'm gonna come. Don't stop, don't...don't..."

"Together," Bodie sighed, "sharin' it, Ray. Ray, now, please..."

Doyle pulled the blanket over them more snugly, trying to cut out all the drafts. "All warm under here," he murmured, "sticky too."

"But nice," Bodie murmured, kissing him.

"Mmmm, s'nice makin' love when it's cold, warmin' each other up. You're like toast, you know that?"

"So are you. Surprisin' considerin' you're such a skinny little runt."

At that moment there was a loud, crackling sound from the front of the car.

"What the..." Bodie sat up abruptly. He edged forward, looking at the dashboard.

There was another loud cackle.

"Oh Christ, the radio..." Bodie said ominously.

"You're kiddin'," Doyle said, sitting bolt upright, "are you tryin' to tell me," through gritted teeth, "you didn't switch the bloody thing off. That you've had the line open all the time...all the time we were..."

"Course I switched it off," Bodie said, disgusted, "always switch it off when we come off duty. Must have knocked the damned thing with my foot or somethin' when we were rollin' around back there."

He clicked the radio off as it made yet another loud cackle.

"Who the hell was on duty tonight anyway?" Doyle hissed.

"Sandra, wasn't it?" Bodie said vaguely.

"Oh God, that's all we need," Doyle said despairingly, "Sandra. Only the biggest gossip in CI5. It'll be all round the building by tomorrow mornin'. We've had it, mate. Out on our ears. Cowley'll skin us alive..."

"Look, just stop over-reactin', will you," Bodie said, grabbing hold of him and giving him a shake, "just because it crackled doesn't mean she heard anythin'. We're a good way out of the city. Could just have been static she heard."

"And if she didn't?" Doyle persisted, his voice filled with doom-laden warning.

"Then we're out on our ear..." Bodie said pessimistically.

"Christ, the things we were sayin' to each other...so bloody explicit..."

"Yeah, well you never know," Bodie said, unable not to see the funny side of things, "it might complete her education too. She might have learned some-thin' to put to good use on her boyfriend. Might be grateful to us," with a leering smile.

His humour was infectious and he succeeded in making Doyle laugh too, but later, on the drive back to London, they both became more serious, sitting in uneasy, worried silence for most of the journey.

"We could be in big trouble, you know," Doyle said at last.

"We could."

"So how do we play it?" Doyle asked, gnawing anxiously at his knuckle, "do we go and have a word with Sandra? Fish around a bit? Find out the lie of the land?"

"Christ no," Bodie said, "listen, even if she heard anythin' there's no way she'd have the nerve to go to Cowley. I mean, can you imagine it? 'Er, Sir, I think you ought to know I heard 3.7 and 4.5 havin' it away in 3.7's car last night...' Come on, how could she go and say that to him?"

"Yeah...but even if she doesn't speak to him directly, she'll pass it round the building like wildfire."

"Maybe not," Bodie the eternal optimist offered, "she's a good girl is Sandra, and she likes us remember. She might decide to keep our guilty secret to herself."

"And blackmail us instead," Doyle the eternal pessimist suggested bleakly.

But she didn't. In fact they never did find out how much or how little Sandra had heard of that fateful night, when Doyle had so determinedly completed Bodie's education. The only clue they ever got was when they passed her in the corridor a few days later, both trying to hide their embarrassment at seeing her, and she gave them a cheeky wink, and told Doyle he looked cute in the green, moleskin trousers he just happened to be wearing...

-- THE END --