Lamb to the Slaughter
by Lily
"I want this one," Cowley said fiercely, "very much." He stared down at the open folder on his desk when he finished speaking.
Bodie and Doyle looked at each other. The Cow had been acting strangely ever since they'd entered the office. It wasn't like him not to say what was on his mind right away.
"This is the man we're after," he said finally, handing them a picture. "Peter Simpson."
Taking the picture, Bodie held it so they could both see it. The picture, one of those taken by a roving photographer on the beach, was surprisingly clear. It showed an attractive man who seemed to be in his mid-twenties, slim but athletic-looking. The sun glinted off the gold highlights in his brown hair and his brown eyes were crinkled in a laugh that also showed off his even teeth. He was a typical clean-cut Englishman and could have been the prototype of the perfect older brother.
"What's he done, then?" Doyle asked.
"Something particularly nasty," Cowley answered. "He's interested in boys in their early teens."
"Chicken hawk," Bodie muttered angrily under his breath.
Cowley heard, of course, but only glared at him as he continued. "He seduces them, then uses them in every perverted way possible. He and his friends. He films everything they do, carefully hiding the faces of the adults, then sells the films on the kiddie-porn market. When they're done with the lads, the boys 'star' in a different kind of film."
"Snuff film," Bodie growled the interruption.
"Aye. Exactly," agreed Cowley. "The police have run across and confiscated some of the films and have managed to match up some 'John Does' to them." Cowley handed them photos of several boys who looked to be between the ages of thirteen and sixteen. "The boys range from guttersnipes to upper middle class families. Every line of enquiry has led back to Simpson, but there's no proof. So the CID has turned the investigation over to us."
"An' I suppose we're just going to put him under observation," Bodie said furiously. "Twenty-four hour eyeballs and catch him in the act of seducing another innocent. If we can get there in time."
"Yes and no," replied Cowley. "You two will alternate with Lucas and McCabe around the clock but, with any luck, the 'innocent' will be a plant of ours."
"Who?" Doyle demanded, almost as angry as Bodie. "There's no one on the squad who's anywhere near young enough looking."
"Well, there isn't, and yet there is," Cowley equivocated again.
"What do you mean?" Doyle asked. He couldn't think of anyone who might fit the necessary description.
"This man," Cowley said, handing them another picture.
The two agents stared at the picture in a state of mild shock.
"Man, hell! He's just a kid!" Bodie exclaimed. He slammed the picture back on Cowley's desk and glared at the wide-eyed young face that stared up at him from the glossy surface. Light brown hair combed into a fringe on his forehead, a short, straight nose and a wide mouth in a shy smile reinforced the impression of youth.
"The man," Cowley emphasized the second word, "is twenty-five years old and working for us in the computer lab. He's an expert with them and can make them do just about anything you might want. Programming, to him, is as natural as breathing."
"A programmer is going undercover in an op like this?" Doyle asked, horrified.
"He's not just a programmer," Cowley said. "He's got a gymnastics background, with all the muscle control that implies, and has studied many of the martial arts. He can also shoot almost as well as you, Doyle. He works out in the gym daily and practices on the range at least once a week. I've had Macklin and Jack Crane both assess him, and they agree he's as fit as any agent I've got and fitter than some, for his size."
"Just what size is he?" asked Bodie. Then continued, curiously, "Is he from the police or the military?"
"Neither," replied Cowley. "He's 5'6" and weighs 8 1/2 stone, so he wasn't called up by the military and has no interest in police work. However, Macklin says he can take down a person twice his size without breathing hard. I've offered him a temporary upgrade to agent for the duration of this assignment with the upgrade to be made permanent if he completes it successfully. He's asked for some time to think it over. I want you two to convince him this is what he wants." Cowley wasn't above using any means necessary to accomplish what he wanted.
"Does he know what the assignment is?" Doyle asked. "And can he do it?"
"He knows as much as you do about the assignment," Cowley said. "And he's gay. So he shouldn't have any trouble responding to Simpson. He admires you, Doyle," Cowley added. "I want you to do whatever's necessary to get him to agree to do this."
Doyle glared at Cowley, then picked up the picture once more and looked at the boy--no, man--in it. "What's his name?" he asked, scowling.
"Kevin," Cowley said. "Kevin Lamb. Now, get on your bikes, lads. I want the three of you back here at 9:00 tomorrow morning ready to get to work on this. Understand?"
"Yes, sir. Running all the way, sir," Bodie made his customary answer. He held the door open for Doyle, who ambled after him, still scowling.
When they got down to the lab, Kevin was just shutting down his computer. He looked even younger in person. Bodie walked over to him while Doyle lounged in the doorway.
"Hey, Lamb," he said heartily, slapping him on the back as he came up to him--very hail-fellow-well-met. "How 'bout coming to the pub with us for a pint?"
Kevin staggered slightly, then spun around and glared up at Bodie, hands on hips, very much like a Bantam cock confronting a leghorn rooster. "You do that again and I'll tear your arm off at the wrist," he snarled. "Now fuck off." And he turned back to his computer, tidying things up so he could leave.
Bodie held up his hands peaceably. "Sorry, sorry," he said, shooting a glance at Ray that begged for assistance.
Ray sauntered over to Kevin's other side. "He didn't mean to upset you," he said. "But we do need to talk with you--Cowley's orders," he added when Lamb seemed about to bristle again. "We could do it here, but why not relax at the pub?"
"How can I tell from Cowley?" Kevin asked. "I've never even met you. You could be KGB agents, for all I know."
"Sorry," Ray apologized. "You're right, of course. I'm Ray Doyle and this is Bodie. Do you want to see our I.D.s?"
"No, that's not necessary," Kevin relented. "I knew who you were because I've seen you about and heard people talk to you. I just don't like to be pushed around."
Ray grinned. "I don't blame you. I don't like it much, myself. Now, how about that drink?"
Kevin finished what he was doing before answering. "All right," he agreed, finally. "If it doesn't take too long. I've got better things to do with my time than waste it boozing." He stalked off towards the door, then turned and looked back at the other two. "Well? Are you coming or not?" he demanded.
Bodie and Doyle quickly followed him out of the building and across the street to the pub. When they got there, Ray steered Kevin to a table in a relatively quiet comer while Bodie went for the first round of drinks.
"Cider for me," Kevin said. "I don't care for beer," he added when Bodie stopped and looked at him.
Bodie just shook his head and continued on to the bar. He took the drinks back to the table and found Ray and Kevin were discussing C15.
"I've been in about three months," Kevin was saying. He looked up and nodded his thanks as Bodie put the cider down in front of him. "But I've been interested in computers from the first time I saw one. I used to sneak into the computer lab after school and work with them until someone came along and threw me out."
Sitting down in the empty chair, Bodie slid a lager over to Doyle and took a drink of his own. "What have you decided about Cowley's offer?" he interrupted.
Kevin bristled at Bodie's tone of voice. "I'm not interested," he said. "I don't see why I should put myself in jeopardy. I was hired to work with computers, and I'm very good at my job. Why should I try to be something I'm not?"
"You wouldn't be," Bodie argued. "You know how to shoot, and you've studied martial arts. The instructors say you're as good as any agent."
"I'm only interested in target shooting," Kevin replied angrily, chin up in the air and glaring, again, at his antagonist. "Accuracy is the challenge. I certainly don't want to even shoot animals, let alone human beings. And the martial arts are only for self-defense. There was a lot of fag-bashing where I used to live, and I wanted to be able to defend myself. I certainly would never have wanted to become a policeman, even if I were tall enough, let alone join a bunch of glorified thugs like your group."
Glaring back, Bodie sat with his fist clenched, looking as if he were about ready to slug Kevin and having to work hard to restrain himself
Doyle, meanwhile, was ready to thump the two of them. He didn't blame Kevin for reacting the way he was but, at this rate, he'd never agree to do as Cowley wanted. Ray couldn't imagine why Bodie was acting the way he was. It was one thing for him to antagonize and intimidate the villains, but Kevin was on their side and, what's more, they were asking him to do them a favor. Reaching for his lager, he deliberately knocked it over and, by the time the mess had been cleared up, the other two had calmed down somewhat.
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a fiver and handed it to Kevin. "Here, Kev," he said. "Go buy me another lager, will you, please?"
"Sure, Ray." Kevin took the bill. "I'll be right back."
"'Kev'?" Bodie asked, as soon as the man was out of earshot. "What's with this 'Kev '?"
"That's what he likes to be called," Doyle answered. "It was in his file. And will you please lay off him? What in hell do you think you're doing, anyway? If he doesn't agree, Cowley's going to have our guts for garters and, the way you're going, he's going to refuse just to spite you."
"'M not doin' anything any different than usual," Bodie sulked.
"The hell you're not," Doyle said. "Look, just shut up and let me do the talking. Please. Better yet, remember something you have to do or somewhere you have to go and leave it all to me." He knew he was taking a chance, as Bodie could be just contrary enough to do exactly the opposite of what he'd asked, but the situation couldn't get much worse in any case.
"All right," Bodie snapped out angrily. "If that's what you want, fine." He drained his lager and set the glass down with a thump. "I'll see you at 9:00 tomorrow morning in Cowley's office. And bring the whiz kid with you." He shoved his chair back and was up and out the door before Doyle could answer.
Ray just sat and stared after him. 'I'm gonna have to sort him out sometime soon, but I can't do it now,' he thought as Kevin sat back down beside him.
"Where's Bodie gone?" Kevin asked, handing Ray his glass.
"Oh, he had a hot date," Ray replied, making hour-glass motions in the air with his hands. He sat back in his chair and consciously relaxed. "D'you have any plans for tonight?"
"Nah, not really," Kevin said. "There was a program I was going to watch on the goggle box, is all."
"I don't have anything on, either," Ray said with a smile. "How'd you like to have dinner with me? I know a nice place just a block or two from here. It's inexpensive, but has great food."
"Sure," said Kevin, basking in the warmth of Ray's smile. "I'd love to." He'd been attracted to Doyle from the time he first saw him, and had heard that he'd been known to swing both ways but, since he and Bodie seemed to be a matched set, Kevin hadn't thought he'd ever have a chance to spend any time with Ray. He certainly wasn't about to pass up what might be his only chance to get to know him.
They walked to the restaurant as it was a nice evening. Doyle kept the conversation general and didn't refer at all to the reason he was there. Movies, the telly, music, books, art and other light topics were discussed while they were walking, between the times of their being seated and ordering, and while they were eating. He found that Kevin was easy to talk to and they had many tastes in common. They'd read many of the same books and liked much of the same music. They shared opinions on many topics and, even when they differed, it was amicable. It wasn't until they were drinking a cup of after-dinner coffee that Ray brought up the subject again.
"All right, Kev," he said. "What's the real reason you don't want to do this--and don't give me any of that nonsense you were giving Bodie. I know better."
Kevin stared into his coffee cup as though all the answers to all the questions in the universe were located therein, trying to decide what to say.
Watching him, Doyle could follow his thought processes and knew, almost to the minute, when Kevin decided to trust him.
"I had a lover," Kevin said, so quietly Ray could barely hear him. "His name was Owen. He was Welsh, and he could sing like an angel. We were walking home from a concert one night, and I'd stopped by a tree to tie my shoe. He went on a little farther then stopped to wait for me. Suddenly, a gang of yobbos came up out of nowhere--fag-bashers. They set on him with clubs. I broke a branch from a nearby bush and ran up to them, screaming. They ran away when they saw me coming like a madman, making as much noise as I was, but it was too late." Kevin stopped, gulped and blinked back tears. "Owen died in my arms." One tear spilled over and ran down his cheek. He dashed it away.
"That was when I decided to study martial arts. No one was ever going to have the opportunity to do to me what they'd done to Owen," he said fiercely, staring at Ray, daring him to make something of it.
"Isn't that all the more reason to help us stop Simpson?" Doyle asked softly. "So no more young boys will die like the ones he's already killed--like Owen?"
"Yes, it is," Kevin's voice was just a whisper. Doyle had to lean very close to hear it. "But I'm afraid. Afraid of dying, brutally, just because of what I am."
Ray's heart went out to the younger man. He wished he could hold him and comfort him. But, since he couldn't, he offered what solace he could. "We're all afraid," Doyle said. "Me, Bodie, all of us. Every moment of the day. Any of us could die any minute because of what we are. We just feel that the job we're doing is worth the risk we take. 'That's the price...we have to pay to keep this island clean and smelling--even if ever so faintly of roses--and lavender,'" he finished, quoting Cowley. "We need you, Kevin," Ray said earnestly. "We, quite literally, can't do it without you. At least, not with anywhere near the same degree of success. Please, Kevin," he begged, playing on the younger man's emotions and hating himself for it even though he knew it had to be done if he were to accomplish his task, "help us. Do it for Owen." He stopped then and sat quietly, waiting for Kevin's answer.
Kevin had bowed his head while Doyle was talking. It was several long minutes before he answered. He lifted his head and looked Ray in the eyes while he spoke. "All right, I'll do it. For Owen...," he hesitated, "and for you."
Ray found he had to swallow a lump in his throat before he could speak. He hadn't expected this at all. "Thank you," he said. Suddenly, Kevin didn't seem nearly as young as he had before. "Look," Doyle continued, "why don't we get out of here. We need to talk, and I don't think this is the best place."
"Fine," agreed Kevin, finishing his coffee in one gulp and standing up.
Doyle threw some bills on the table to cover the check and followed him out of the restaurant. They didn't talk very much as they walked back to HQ. When they got there, Ray turned to Kevin. "Shall we go to your flat or mine?"
Kevin thought for a moment. "Mine," he said.
"All right. I'll follow you."
When they got there, Ray trailed Kevin into the flat, automatically looking for the safety locks, then realizing they weren't there because Kevin wasn't an agent. He went into the lounge where Kevin was standing at a window, the picture of despondency. Doyle walked over and put his arms around him, offering comfort.
Kevin turned in his arms and held onto him tightly, resting his head against Ray's chest. Finally, he raised his head and looked at him. "I can't cry for him," he said. "I've never been able to cry for him." He let go of Ray and led the way to the sofa where they both sat down. "There's another problem," he said.
"What's that?" asked Doyle.
Kevin looked up with his shy grin. "I'm a virgin."
Doyle blinked at him. "A what?"
"A virgin," he repeated. "You know--I've never been fucked."
"But you had a lover." Ray stared at him in disbelief
"Yes, well...we'd grown up together and knew very young that we wanted to stay together forever. We figured we had all the time in the world and didn't have to hurry things, and we were getting plenty of enjoyment out of what we were doing." Kevin hesitated. "I don't really want Simpson to be my first experience."
Ray shook his head in despair. Now what was he going to do? He could guess how Kevin felt, having heard Bodie go on about his experiences in Africa. That was one reason why Ray'd never tried anything on with Bodie. Ray didn't see how Bodie could possibly be interested in a same sex relationship after what he'd gone through. Doyle didn't want to knowingly send anyone else into a similar situation, and Kevin was not unattractive. Obviously, there was only one solution. "Would you like to have your first experience with me?" When Kevin didn't answer right away, he went on, "I know it's not the same as doing it with someone you love, but I can make it good for you."
Kevin had to lick his suddenly dry lips before he could answer. "I'd like that," he said. It was an understatement. Since Owen had died, nearly eight years earlier, he hadn't had another lover, not even the odd one-night stand, and he was starved for affection. It wasn't that he'd never found anyone else attractive, but Owen had been his other half and no one else had seemed worth the emotional payment. Doyle, however, exuded sexuality like pheromones. All evening Kevin had become more and more aware of him sexually. It wasn't the love he'd had with Owen, of course, but once in a lifetime was all you could expect something like that, and Doyle was here...and near...and.... His train of thought broke off suddenly as he felt Ray's lips touch his.
Doyle had only meant it to be a light kiss but, suddenly, Kevin was in his arms, clinging to him, mouth open under his, and Ray was lost in the sweetness of the kiss. When they were finally in danger of asphyxiation, Ray pulled back and looked down at Kevin. His face was flushed and his eyes heavy-lidded. "I think we've got entirely too many clothes on," Doyle said.
Kevin immediately began to unbutton his shirt. Ray reached over and trapped his hands. "A more comfortable location would probably be better, too."
Flushing, Kevin grasped Ray's hand and stood up, pulling Ray up with him. "C'mon," he said, clearing his throat twice before his voice would work. "Let's go to bed."
Ray detoured by way of the bathroom and looked through the medicine cabinet. He found a tube of Nivea lotion and took it with him, putting it on the headboard of the bed. Kevin was waiting in the bedroom, looking puzzled. He'd thought Ray was following him. When he saw what Doyle had in his hand, he flushed and turned away to finish unbuttoning his shirt.
Doyle finished undressing first and turned to look at Kevin. He had been feeling rather like a cradle robber, but now he could see that, while the face might be boyish, the body was that of a well-developed young man. Ray was suddenly hungry for him and, as Kevin removed the last of his clothes, reached for him and pulled him onto the bed, kissing him deeply, feeling the heat of him all along the length of his body.
'Mmmm,' Doyle thought. 'Birds are nice, but this...'s like champagne bubbles fizzing in my blood. 'M going to enjoy this...make it last a long time.'
Kevin, however, was almost at flashpoint already. Doyle decided to bring him off quickly, then they could take it slowly the next time. He gave a lick to each nipple in passing and went down on him, engulfing his hard cock with his mouth. At the feel of Doyle's tongue licking his shaft, Kevin's whole body stiffened; he gave a sharp cry and came, in a seemingly unending stream. Ray swallowed it all, then moved back up the bed and kissed Kevin, so he could taste himself on Doyle's tongue.
Astounded by his reaction to Doyle's lovemaking, Kevin felt like he'd never be able to move again. He passively accepted Ray's kiss, moaning when Ray lifted his mouth.
Doyle pulled him into his arms and hugged him. "You're a real firecracker, aren't you?" he said softly, stroking down Kevin's lean flank. Kevin's cock gave a small twitch of interest, even though Kevin himself didn't move. 'Bet it won't take much to get you going again.' Ray lay Kevin on his back and leant over him, covering his face with light kisses. He licked around Kevin's ears, then moved down and kissed his neck at the juncture where it met his shoulder.
Kevin squirmed at the touch, then stretched his neck to give Ray easier access, murmuring in delight as Ray laved his neck with his tongue. He had always liked this when Owen had done it to him.
By the time Ray moved down to suckle Kevin's nipples, the younger man's cock had fully engorged. He held Ray's head to him, running his fingers through the springy curls, bucking uncontrollably as the sensations arrowed toward his groin.
Ray's cock was hot and hard, leaking pre-cum. He knew he would have to take Kevin soon if he were to have enough control to make it good for him. He lifted his mouth from Kevin's nipple and moved up to kiss him long and hard. When he broke the kiss, Kevin's eyes were glazed and he was moaning.
"Take me, Ray," he begged, then pulled Ray down into another long kiss.
Doyle slowly drew back from Kevin. He reached for the Nivea, opened it, and stroked the cream onto his cock. He took more cream on one finger and knelt between Kevin's legs. Spreading them apart, Ray fondled Kevin's balls with one hand while, with the other, he probed for the opening to Kevin's body. Finding it, he slowly inserted his finger through the tight sphincter.
Kevin stiffened at the feel of the intruder, then gasped as Ray's finger brushed across his prostate. He thrust upward, impaling himself in his search for the delightful feelings Doyle had aroused in him. It was, in a way, a bittersweet feeling, as memory transported him back to times that he had spent with Owen, this being as far as they had gotten in their lovemaking. The pleasure of the moment, however, soon swept him beyond thought, and he abandoned himself to the waves of feeling that swept over him.
There was a minor setback when Ray inserted a second finger and, again, when he inserted a third. Each time, however, the pleasure intensified and, at the last, Kevin was mewling mindlessly and thrusting hard into Doyle's hand which had transferred from his balls to his cock.
Ray removed his fingers and let go of Kevin's cock long enough to position himself properly. He slowly thrust his cock inside Kevin, delighting in the hot tightness surrounding him.
Kevin had cried out at the abandonment, and he welcomed the feeling of Ray's cock entering him. Just at first, he felt only pressure but, as soon as his prostate was touched, the pleasure swept over him again.
Doyle pushed slowly forward until he had entered Kevin completely. He stopped then, for a moment, allowing the ecstasy to engulf himself, before starting a long, slow withdrawal and re-entry designed to spin out the proceedings as long as possible. He took hold of Kevin's cock again and stroked it in the same rhythm he was using.
Kevin was inundated by the combination of sensations. He tried to pick up the pace, force Ray to move faster, but Ray frustrated his intentions, insisting on continuing the tempo he had already established. Kevin had never realized anything could possibly feel so fantastic. He moaned incoherently, mouthing words that he couldn't quite articulate.
At last, Doyle had almost reached his limit. He stepped up the pace with both his hand and his cock, moving faster and harder with each stroke.
Kevin eagerly thrust into Doyle's hand, finally able to strive for completion. The sensations peaked, and he came in Ray's hand, crying out with delight.
The contractions of Kevin's orgasm were all Doyle needed to make him come. He pumped hard into Kevin as the cataclysmic feelings overwhelmed him, seemingly lasting forever.
He was just able to withdraw before he collapsed onto the bed beside Kevin. He managed to pull the covers up over them and take the already sleeping Kevin into his arms before falling asleep himself. One fleeting wisp of thought did cross his mind that he should do something about cleaning them both up but, somehow, it didn't seem that important at the time.
Kevin woke early the next morning. He felt cramped and sticky; and, when he moved, his arse was not exactly sore, but tender. It took his brain an extra half second to connect up these feelings and trigger the memories of what he had done the previous night. When the memory did surface, it was both pleasant and painful. Now that he knew what it was like to be fucked, he wished that he and Owen had gotten that far before he'd been killed. Being fucked by Ray had been great. Being fucked by Owen would have been wonderful.
He opened his eyes. It was just barely dawn, and light was beginning to trickle through the window. He studied the man curled around him. Ray was lying with his head on Kevin's chest--one arm tucked down between them and the other resting on Kevin's cock. Doyle looked a lot younger in his sleep, with all the harsh lines in his face smoothed away. Kevin thought he looked even more attractive like this but was pleased to find that he hadn't fallen in love with Ray. Indeed, his feelings basically hadn't changed at all. He still thought that Doyle was an interesting, attractive man but he had no desire whatsoever to get involved with him even for a short period of time--and as for dealing with him on a day-to-day basis, Ray was much too volatile a person for Kevin to have any desire for that. Also, having already lost a lover to violence, he certainly didn't want to lose another one the same way and, just by the nature of Doyle's job, the chances were that he'd die violently.
Kevin was, however, grateful that he'd been able to find out from Doyle just how fantastic the final act could be. If this Peter Simpson did mistreat him, and the odds seemed to be that he would, at least he would have something to hold on to--to remind him that being fucked could be a pleasurable, not to say actively enjoyable, experience. Kevin ran his fingers through Ray's curls and bent forward so he could kiss the top of his head in gratitude.
Kevin looked over at the bedstand table to see if he'd thought to set the alarm last night. No, he hadn't. He reached over and pushed the button to set it. With one hand still in Doyle's hair, he wrapped his other arm around Ray's shoulders and went back to sleep.
The alarm went off at seven. Doyle woke suddenly--instantly knowing where he was and who he was with. 'I was right--definitely champagne. Be nice to do that more often--though not, necessarily, with Kevin.' He stretched, rolled onto his side and opened his eyes. Kevin was lying there, looking all of fifteen. Ray felt, for a moment, like a child molester, then Kevin opened his eyes and grinned at him. Ray didn't know quite what to say to him. He'd never fucked anyone as a learning experience before.
"Good morning," Kevin said cheerfully.
"Morning," Ray replied. He looked at his bed partner carefully. "Are you all right?" he asked.
"I'm fine," Kevin answered. "Thanks, Ray." He suddenly felt shy. He'd never gone in for one-offs and wasn't too sure what proper etiquette was after a friendly fuck.
Ray sensed his confusion. He pulled Kevin close and hugged him, then took his face between his hands and looked him in the eyes. "Are you sure everything's okay?" He hoped Kevin hadn't made more of the night's activities than he'd intended.
"I'm sure," Kevin said, touched by Ray's obvious concern. "Really. And don't worry, " he continued. "I haven't suddenly decided you're the love of my life," he said, half laughing.
"Good," said Ray. "I'm glad. I would have hated for you to have gotten hurt."
"I know," Kevin said. He leaned forward and kissed the older man. "Now we'd better get a move on if we're going to get to Cowley's office on time."
By moving quickly and restricting breakfast to a cup of coffee and a slice of toast, they made it to the office just on nine. Bodie was there already. He glowered at them as they came in.
Cowley looked at Ray and Kevin, then glared at Bodie, daring him to say anything. "Well, Lamb, have you made up your mind?"
"Yes, sir," Kevin said. "I'll do it."
"Good," said Cowley. "Sit down and let's get busy."
Ray pulled up chairs for Kevin and himself, glancing curiously over at Bodie as he did so, wondering what he'd done to get up his partner's nose this time. "What about Lucas and McCabe?" he asked, curious as to why the other team wasn't present.
"They're just finishing up their last op," Cowley said. "I'll brief them later.
"Now, here's what we have done. We've listed every fact we can find out about each of the boys that have been identified and had the computers match them up to see what they have in common. There was no single factor that applied to all of them, but a few attended the same grammar school and many of them went to the same sports club--both in Kensington."
"Very up-market," Bodie interjected.
Cowley glared at him again and continued, "An estimate, based on the ones we have identified, seems to indicate that the disappearances occur every few days--not more than two weeks apart.
"So, what we're going to do is enroll you, Lamb, in the school and the sports club. Doyle will work as an instructor at the sports club, and Bodie will be a groundsman."
"I'll what--," Bodie protested.
"Bodie will be a groundsman," Cowley repeated firmly, not raising his voice. "And, at the school, Lucas will be a supply teacher and McCabe will be a groundsman."
Bodie calmed down at that.
"You'll know who to look for," Cowley told Kevin, "so, if he appears, you can put yourself in his path--as unobtrusively as possible." He handed Kevin a picture of Simpson. "Memorize this face," he said. "The headmaster expects you. He knows who you are and why you're there. He will falsify records for you so everyone else will think you're an ordinary student. Go see him today. Sally will go with you to 'enroll' you. Then you can go out and buy a school uniform. You'll start school tomorrow. Chat up the boys. Emphasize your interest in martial arts. Find someone who goes to this sports club and get them to take you along. I want you joined up as soon as possible," he emphasized.
"Yes, sir," Kevin replied.
"All right, then. You all know what to do, so get busy," Cowley ordered.
"Yes, sir," they answered in a ragged chorus, getting up and heading towards the door.
"Oh, by the way, Lamb," Cowley said as they were leaving, "your number is 8.1."
Sally was waiting outside the office, so Kevin went off with her to the school.
Ray turned to Bodie. "Want to stop for a pint before we have to start doing an honest day's work?"
"No," Bodie said. "Let's just get to it." And he headed towards the car.
Doyle looked after him, puzzled, then followed.
The next day Kevin presented himself at the school as a new member of the fifth form. His school days were still recent enough that he could remember how boys of that age behaved and, frankly, it wasn't a period in his life that he'd had any great desire to relive. It didn't help that he was wearing glasses to make him look even younger.
It started during morning break--the class bully pushing him around. "Look at the four-eyes. Skinny little thing, isn't he? Where's Mary, Lamb? Aren't you supposed to follow her around? No, I know why he's not following Mary. I bet he's a faggot, aren't you? Hey, Lamby-Pie, like to suck cock, do you? How about sucking mine?" Mitchell grabbed Kevin's arm and started to pull him down to his knees.
That was more than enough for Kevin. He'd had no choice but to put up with that kind of thing the first time 'round. He didn't have to put up with it this time. Anyway, Cowley had told him to emphasize his interest in martial arts.
The next thing Mitchell knew, he was flat on his back, staring up at the sky. "What happened?" he asked.
"The Lamb threw you."
"Good show, Lamb."
"Yeah, jolly good show."
"Big, tough Mitchell, thrown by a little Lamb."
"Maybe you're not so big, after all, Mitchell."
"Oh, yeah?" Mitchell waded in with his fists. "I'll show you, you little pansy."
Kevin was no good at fist fighting, but he dodged what blows he could. First chance he got, he grabbed Mitchell's arm. Seconds later, Mitchell was flat on his back again.
Before he could get up, the teacher on duty was standing over him. "What's going on here?" he asked. "Fighting again, Mitchell? Let's go see the headmaster." He pulled Mitchell up and started to march him off.
"Please, sir," Kevin spoke up. "He wasn't fighting. I was just showing him some martial arts tricks I've learned."
"Yeah." Mitchell pulled his arm away and put it around Kevin's shoulders. "Me and him are friends. He's gonna show me how he does that."
The teacher looked at the two boys standing in front of him--one grinning cockily; the other, half a head shorter, peering up at him earnestly through his glasses. "All right, I'll let it go this time," he said. "But let's keep that sort of thing for games period." He walked away from the group of boys.
"You are going to teach me that, aren't you?" Mitchell asked.
"No," said Kevin, pulling away from Mitchell. "You'll just use it to beat up on someone else. And as long as you don't know how to do it, you'll leave me alone so I won't use it against you."
The bell rang just then, and they all headed back to class.
Three days later, Kevin was no further along even though he had gone on about his interest in martial arts ad nauseam, it seemed to him. He was sure everyone in his form was bored to tears hearing him talk about it. In fact, if it weren't that Mitchell had turned into his shadow in hopes that Kevin would teach him what he knew, he was sure some of the larger boys would have thumped him by now just to shut him up.
He called in each night to report his lack of progress. He was as unhappy with the situation as Cowley was, if not more so. Not only did he have to sit through classes that he'd found dull the first time, but he was staying with Sally to lend verisimilitude to his story of being fifteen, and he missed his computer that he used to relax in the evenings.
Finally, on the fourth day, just as he was going into class, a sixth former called out, "I say. You." He came up to Kevin. "You the kid who put that bully, Mitchell, in his place?"
"Yeah," Kevin replied, not too sure where this was leading.
"I hear you're really interested in martial arts. Wanna learn some more about it? I go to this fab sports club," he said, naming the club Kevin was looking for. "You c'n go with me sometime if you like," he continued.
"That would be super," Kevin answered. "Could we go tomorrow?"
"Sure, why not? I'll meet you here after school. Okay?"
"Okay."
The older boy started to turn away. "By the way, my name's Fox. What's yours?"
"Lamb," Kevin answered.
"Lamb," Fox echoed. "I like that. Fox and Lamb. Maybe I'll eat you up, huh? See you here tomorrow, then," he said, and he punched Kevin on the shoulder and loped off to class.
"Nice to have you join us, Mr. Lamb," said the teacher as Kevin entered the classroom. "You may report to detention after school." He turned back to the rest of the class and went on with the lesson as Kevin sat down.
Kevin didn't even care. Finally, he was one step closer to being done with all this.
"Betty," Cowley said through the intercom, putting the phone down after talking with Kevin that evening. "Get Bodie and Doyle for me, if they're still in the building."
"Yes, sir," she replied and set to work tracking down the Bisto Kids. It didn't take her long.
"Here's where it stands," Cowley began, bringing them up to date. "Lamb will be at the club tomorrow. Have you seen any sign of Simpson yet?"
"No," said Doyle. "Nothing."
"I think I might have, from a distance," said Bodie. "But I couldn't see well enough to be sure."
"Lucas and McCabe haven't seen him either." He eyed his best team. The two men sat side by side, two miles apart; their 'doubles act' nowhere in sight. They might have met yesterday. Ray kept looking at Bodie, who ignored him. Cowley decided to give them a few days to sort themselves out, and then he'd intervene.
"Keep a close watch from now on," was all he said to them. "We don't want anything to happen to Lamb."
"Yes, sir," they replied and left the office.
Bodie headed towards the car, and Ray followed him, wondering what to do.
Bodie'd been acting strange for days now. Ray'd left him alone, figuring he'd work it out himself, whatever it was, but that didn't seem to be happening. Bodie was such a private person that trying to find out the why of his actions always seemed like an intrusion. Doyle didn't really think Bodie'd want to talk about whatever it was that was bothering him, but finally decided to make the effort to find out, anyway.
They got into the car, and Ray turned to his partner. "What is it, Bodie? What's the matter? Is it something I've done? I'd like to help if I can."
"Nothing's the matter," Bodie said shortly. "Just leave me alone, Doyle. I'm doing my job, aren't I? Anything else is none of your damn business." He turned the key and started the car. 'How can I tell him I'm jealous? I didn't even know I could still be interested in a man after Africa. Haven't had any interest in them at all for ten years, and now I find I've fallen in love with my partner and I didn't even know it.'
Ray turned around and settled back in his seat. 'All right. If that's the way he's gonna be, then fuck it. We'll do the job and that's all. I've got plenty of other friends. I don't need him.'
The next day Kevin met Fox after school as arranged and went to the club with him. Fox introduced him to his martial arts teacher, and he spent the rest of the afternoon practicing basic moves with Fox. This was only marginally less boring than studying fifth form lessons over again. The problem was that he was highly unlikely to run into Simpson if he was confined to the room where the martial arts training was held. He'd have to become a member and make use of the other facilities as well.
"That was a lot of fun," he said to Fox as they were getting ready to leave. "Can I join up? I'd like to be able to come here all the time and swim and play tennis and everything."
"Sure," said Fox. "All you have to do is fill in the form and pay the fee. C'mon. I'll show you where to get it."
Kevin filled out the form and promised to bring it back the next day signed by his 'mother,' along with the fee.
"Thanks, Fox," Kevin said as they left the club. "That was super. It'll be just great to be able to come here any time. I'm not really very good at the team sports we play at school."
Fox looked down at him. "Yeah, I can see that you might have trouble playing against some of the others in your form, though you didn't have much trouble handling Mitchell."
"I was just lucky that he didn't know martial arts."
"That's true, but I'm jolly glad you were able to take him. He picked on my little brother, Derek, last year. I thumped Mitchell a couple of times and he left Derek alone but it didn't stop him picking on other little kids. Maybe now he'll realize that anyone smaller than himself isn't necessarily fair game. Or, at least, maybe it'll make him think twice."
"Yeah, maybe so," Kevin said, though he didn't think Mitchell had learned his lesson.
"Well, I'll see you here tomorrow afternoon, will I?" Fox said.
"Definitely," Kevin agreed.
"That's all right, then. Ta, ta."
"Ta, ta," Kevin replied as they both left for their respective homes.
It was fully a week later before Kevin made anymore progress on the case. He was playing doubles tennis with Fox against two other boys when he felt someone's eyes on him. He looked around after the next point and saw Simpson watching them. Kevin was slightly startled, even though he had, of course, been expecting to see him at any time, and he almost missed his serve.
When they changed sides after the set, Simpson was still there. "Who's that guy?" Kevin asked Fox.
Fox looked around. "Who? Him?" he said. "I don't really know. I've seen him around from time to time. I think he might be a friend of one of the instructors. He buys some of the lads ice lollies occasionally. Maybe he'll buy us one."
"Yeah, maybe he will."
They won the match in two straight sets and, after they'd all shaken hands and started towards the locker rooms, Simpson came up to them. Kevin looked around, but he didn't see Bodie anywhere.
"Jolly good match," the man said to them. "My name's Peter Simpson. I'm a friend of the tennis coach," he continued, walking with them. "Look, after you've changed, why don't you let me buy you lemonades and ice lollies? Okay?"
"Sure. That'd be super. Yeah. Great."
A few minutes later, they were all seated around a small table with their ices and drinks. The boys were greedily stuffing their mouths. "You know, I'm a photographer," Simpson said. "And I sometimes make short films. I'm always looking for boys for sports films. Are any of you interested, by any chance?"
Kevin had seated himself next to Simpson. "Ooh, yeah, I am," Kevin said, looking at Peter wide-eyed. "I'd love to be in a film," he went on in his best 'I'm-a-starstruck-fifteen-year-old' voice.
Ray walked by, behind Simpson, looking at Kevin. It made him feel better to know that Bodie and Doyle knew Simpson was here.
Peter smiled at him warmly. 'Just the type I like. Young enough to be innocent and adoring.' He put his arm around Kevin. "Well, now, Kevin is it? I think something just might be arranged. Why don't you call me Peter?"
When Kevin called in that evening to report, Cowley was very pleased by the conversation. "Good. We now have a definite connection with Simpson. Unfortunately, we need a lot more than that. I'll have Sally bring you a tracer and a mike--both miniaturized. Try your best to keep them both, if not on you, then at least near you. We'll record everything we get from the mike, but we'll have to wait as long as possible to come in. Ideally, we'd like him to commit himself to the snuff films--not at the risk of your life, of course, but I'm afraid you're not going to have an easy time of it towards the end. Do you still want to go through with it?"
"Yes," Kevin said, firmly. "I don't want any other boys to get mixed up in this, and he's such a plausible person it's all too easy to believe he's just what he says he is."
"All right, then. We'll follow you everywhere, and you report at least once a day--oftener if you think there's anything we should know."
It started the next day. Simpson picked him up after school. There was another boy in the car. He had red hair and green eyes and was taller than Kevin. He looked to be about thirteen.
"Kevin, this is Sandy. Sandy, Kevin."
"Hullo," Sandy said. "Isn't this great? I think Peter's fantastic. Imagine paying us a lot of money just to make a tennis film. I'm going to buy myself my own telly. What're you going to do with the money?"
"Hi," Kevin said. "Yes, it's super. I haven't thought much yet about what I'm going to do. I'd really like to have my own computer but I know that's impossible. Maybe I'll get a really great stereo systern--one with quadraphonic speakers." He continued to visit with Sandy until they arrived at the tennis courts.
Kevin and Sandy changed into tennis clothes in the back seat of the car, while Simpson got busy taking photographic equipment out of the boot. He put on a wide-angle lens and had them play a game while he filmed it. Then he changed to a standard lens and had each of them take turns hitting the ball to the other to demonstrate basic strokes. Finally, he put in a telephoto lens and took close-up shots of their faces, the rackets, etc.
"I'll put this together and let you know if we need any retakes," Simpson said. "You'll get your money as soon as I have a finished product."
Sandy grinned happily as he wiped the sweat off his forehead. "That's great," he said.
Kevin echoed him wondering if perhaps they'd been mistaken and Simpson was a legitimate photographer after all.
"Do either of you play any other sports?" Simpson asked. "If this one turns out well, maybe I could use you again."
"I'm pretty good at football and rugby," Sandy said.
"I don't have any call for those right now," Simpson said, "but I'll keep it in mind for the future. How about you, Kevin?"
"I know some martial arts," he replied. "And I used to do gymnastics a lot."
"Now that's one I do need," Simpson said. "Let me see how this turns out, and then maybe we can set something up for that."
"Okay. That'd be super."
Simpson drove the two to their homes. Kevin noticed as he got out that it was a hire car. He called Cowley and told him as soon as he got in.
"Good work," Cowley said. "We'll get onto it right away. See if he hired it under his own name. Let us know as soon as he contacts you."
"I will," Kevin assured him.
Since Lucas and McCabe were following Kevin, Bodie and Doyle had the night off.
Ray decided to give Murphy a call. "Hey, Murph," he said, when the phone was answered. "You busy tonight?"
"Not particularly," Murphy replied. "What did you have in mind?"
"How 'bout a game of darts?"
"Sounds good to me," Murphy said. "Same time, same place?"
"Yeah. I'll see you there."
"Okay. 'Bye."
"'Bye."
Murphy was waiting when Ray got there. "Where's your other half?" he asked as Doyle sat down.
"I don't know and I don't care," Ray snarled. "We're not joined at the hip, you know. I am capable of being out on my own."
"All right, all right," Murphy said peaceably. "I just asked."
"Sorry, Murph," Doyle apologized. "It's just that Bodie's been a real twit lately. I don't know why, and he won't tell me. I just want to forget about him for one evening."
"That's fine with me," Murphy said. "Look. The dartboard's free. You go over and grab it, and I'll get us a couple of lagers."
The pub wasn't crowded and no one else was interested in playing darts--at least, they weren't interested in asking a couple of hard cases like Doyle and Murphy to let them take over--so the two agents made a long night of it.
"Thanks, Murph," Doyle said as they left. "That was a lot of fun. The best thing was just getting a chance to relax. You could cut the tension with a knife, lately."
"Any time," Murphy said. "I'm between birds anyway. Playing darts is a better way to spend an evening than watching the goggle box."
Bodie was at loose ends. He stopped at the local chippie for takeaway and sat, flipping channels, while he ate. There wasn't anything on that he particularly wanted to see. He browsed through his little black book, but he didn't really want to go out with a girl. He wanted Ray. Bodie looked at the phone. Maybe he should call him, get together, get everything out in the open. After all, if Ray was straight, then he'd done nothing with Kevin but talk to him and convince him to do what Cowley wanted; and, if he were bi, and had gone to bed with Kevin, then there was every possibility he'd want to go to bed with Bodie as well. He wouldn't have to pour his heart out right away, just take it a step at a time. Yeah, that's what he'd do.
He reached for the phone and dialed Ray's number. No answer. "Damn!" Bodie slammed the receiver down and went to get himself a drink--on second thought, he brought the bottle back with him. He spent the rest of evening trying Ray's number at intervals and drinking pure malt scotch in between. When he finally killed the bottle, Bodie decided he'd better go to bed if he were going to be any good at all the next day. He wasn't looking forward to the morning at all.
A few days later, Simpson was waiting when Kevin left school. He honked, and Kevin ran over to the car.
"Here's your money for the tennis film," he said. "Everything was fine, no re-shooting necessary. I'd like to do the gymnastics one next," he said. "Could you come tomorrow and just do some basic routines?"
"I could try," Kevin said. "It might take a few days of practice before I can do the routines smoothly, but I use the same warm-up exercises for martial arts that I did for the gymnastics, so that should help."
"That's okay. I'll film you each day and show how much you can improve with practice. I'll pick you up here, tomorrow."
"All right. I'll tell my mum," Kevin said.
The next day Simpson picked him up at the school and took him to an empty gym. "This belongs to a friend of mine," he explained. "It's closed temporarily while it's being refurbished, so he said I could use it for filming. Here," he said, handing Kevin a black unitard. "Put this on and we'll get started."
The unitard was almost too small to wear. Kevin had to struggle into it, and then it looked like it had been painted on. He went out into the gym and ran through his warm-up exercises, then waited for Simpson to tell him what to do.
Simpson was setting up his camera in front of the parallel bars. "Come over here and just do a few basic movements, then we'll do the same thing on the other pieces of apparatus. Tomorrow, we'll come back and do the same thing again; the next day, as well; and so on, until you can do them all smoothly. That will give encouragement to the beginners."
While he was talking, another man came into the gym. He was about Simpson's age, but as dark complected as Simpson was fair and much taller and broader. He looked like a boxer.
"This is my friend, Malcolm," Simpson said. "He's going to be your spotter."
"Okay," said Kevin. "Shall I get started?" He did as Simpson had said, putting together a simple routine at each location.
Simpson felt himself getting hard as he looked through the viewfinder of the camera. The black unitard defined every curve and plane of Kevin's body and, shot against the white wall of the gym, it was truly delectable. He could blow up the individual frames of the film and make a fortune from them.
When Kevin had finished and gone to change, Simpson left Malcolm to watch the photographic equipment and followed Kevin into the locker room. Kevin sat on the bench peeling his unitard off. Simpson sat down beside him.
"You were saying the other day about wanting a computer," he said. "I could get you a lot of money fast if you were willing to do more in this film."
"You mean a longer routine?" asked Kevin. "I could do that once I'd had a chance to practice a bit longer."
"No, that's not what I mean," replied Simpson. "What I mean is, that if you'd let me start filming when you're changing from your clothes into your unitard, and then film you taking it off, showering, and putting your street clothes back on, I could double what you're making."
"But how would that help anyone learn about gymnastics?" Kevin asked as innocently as he could.
"It won't," Simpson answered. "But these films aren't sold just to young boys wanting to learn a sport. Sometimes they're sold to men who just like to look at boys, and they'd like even more to see the entire sequence. "
"Well, I don't know," Kevin said, hesitantly. 'Think fifteen,' he told himself. "I don't know if I should let you film me naked."
"You have a lovely body," said Simpson. "You should be proud to show it off. I'd only film you from the back and the side. And think how much money you could make. That computer's practically yours."
"Well...I guess I could do it," Kevin agreed reluctantly.
"Great!" said Simpson. "Put your unitard back on and go back into the gym. I'll follow you with the camera as you come in, undress, and shower. Next time I'll get you undressing and dressing."
Kevin did as he was told and, even though he was twenty-five and not fifteen, he still felt very uncomfortable. Simpson was devouring him through the lens of the camera.
"Very nice," Simpson said when he was done. "We'll get the other shots next time. Get dressed and I'll take you home."
When Kevin had finished filling Cowley in on the film session that night, he said, "You know, it'll even be worth having to sit through those boring school lessons a second time if we can only get that man behind bars where he belongs. I hope he never has a chance to get to another young boy."
"That's just how I feel, Lamb," Cowley said. "I'm glad you agree."
"I do," Kevin said. "Whatever might happen to me isn't important as long as we get Simpson off the streets."
"By the way," Cowley asked, "where have you put the bugs?"
"In my jacket pocket," Kevin replied. "I always have it with me. I wear it when he's not filming in the gym and have it on the floor nearby when he is. In the locker room, it's on the bench beside me. About the only place I don't have it with me is in the shower. I've made it a point to either wear it or carry it at all times, right from the beginning."
"Very good," Cowley said.
The next day, as promised, Simpson filmed him undressing and putting on the unitard and then dressing again after his shower. Everything else was the same as the previous day, except that Kevin's routines were a bit smoother.
The following day, Simpson followed Kevin into the locker room and sat down beside him again.
"I showed the film I've taken to my directors, and they were very impressed. They're prepared to offer you half again as much as you're making now--three times what you were making originally--if you'll let me film you from the front while you're nude. What do you say?"
"Gee, Peter, I...I don't know...I--," Kevin stammered. 'I think you're a slime ball and shooting's too good for you.'
"Just think of that computer," Simpson said, sounding like Lucifer holding out the apple. "Won't it be nice when you can have one all your own?"
"Well...okay," he finally agreed. "What do you want me to do?"
"Just change clothes and everything like you usually do. Only this time, do it facing the camera." Simpson practically licked his lips at the thought of filming Kevin's genitals. Even the back and side views had been delicious. He'd watched them so many times he almost had them memorized. This would be lovely.
Kevin followed Simpson's directions. He had to work hard to keep himself from tearing the camera out of Simpson's hands and breaking it over his head. Finally, it was all over for the day, and Simpson took Kevin home.
When Kevin talked to Cowley that night, the controller was very pleased.
"Yes. I heard it on the tape. This is the first indication we've had that he's working for anyone else. Maybe he'll mention something more about them. Keep up the good work. Oh, by the way, that hire car. He gave a false address on the hire form. Just thought you'd like to know. Anything else that you notice like that, be sure to let us know. It's the small details that often break a case."
"Yes, sir. I will."
Two days later, Simpson decided it was time for the next step. 'Hope I'm not rushing him' he thought. 'I don't want to scare him off, but he seemed a lot more comfortable in front of the camera yesterday and the directors want this film finished. It's his own fault for being so gorgeous.'
When they'd finished in the gym that day and were in the locker room, Simpson waited until Kevin was undressed then put the camera down and sat down beside him. Kevin covered himself with his hands while he waited to hear what Simpson had to say.
"Well, this should be our last day of filming, Kevin."
"Oh? That's good. Then I get paid, do I?"
"Yes, like last time--when I finish the final print. However, that brings up something I need to discuss with you."
"What's that?" Kevin asked suspiciously.
"I seems the directors want one more scene. They want you to masturbate in the shower."
"What?! No! I won't do it. I've done enough."
"I'm afraid it's all or nothing," Simpson said. "Lord N...uh, the directors really want to see that, so this is what they're offering: either you do the scene and they'll give you your original salary again, which means four times what you were making to begin with, or you don't and they scrap the film and you get nothing. What's it to be?"
Kevin sat and stared at his fists clenched in his lap. 'You bastard. Treating a boy like that. Right. I'll give you enough rope to hang yourself. They don't take kindly to child molesters in prison.'
"Well?" Simpson asked. "Do we shoot the scene or pack up and go home?"
"I don't want to," Kevin said sullenly. "But I'll do it." He stood up. "What do I have to do?"
"Just get in the shower as usual and do what I tell you."
"All right." Kevin turned towards the showers.
"Oh, by the way," Simpson said. "Malcolm will be filming you, also."
"What? Why?" Kevin protested.
"They want shots of your reactions as well as what you're doing. So we need two cameras," Simpson replied. "C'mon, let's go." This was one scene he was really going to enjoy filming. He would film Kevin's actions. Malcolm could film his reactions.
"Okay." Kevin walked towards the shower as Simpson filmed him, vying not to be too self-conscious, knowing what was coming up. He knew this was just the beginning, and he had been waiting for something like this, but he was glad the microphone wasn't near the showers. He didn't really want Lucas and McCabe and, for that matter, everyone who eventually ended up listening to the tape, to hear what was coming next.
He got to the showers, turned one on, and started to wash quickly as he usually did.
"No. Slow down," Simpson instructed. "Rub the soap over your body sensuously. Linger over your nipples. Rub it in circles. That's right. Now turn around and run it down your crack--back and forth. Good. Turn back around and rub it over your genitals thoroughly, then put the soap down and use your hands. Stroke your cock. One hand and then the other. Yes, like that. Now your balls. Roll them in your hand and caress them. That's right. Now run your hands down your torso--slowly, caressingly, then back to your nipples. Roll them between your fingers, then pinch them--hard. Okay. Turn around again. Bend over and spread yourself. Rim yourself with a finger. Now get a lot of soap on your finger and finger fuck yourself Yes. Use your other hand on your cock. Turn a bit, so I can see both. That's it. Just keep doing that. When you get close, turn to face me." Simpson was almost drooling while he was filming. He was so hard, he was afraid he might come in his pants if he weren't careful. This was the best part of being a photographer.
Kevin followed Simpson's directions, trying to disassociate himself from the whole procedure. He'd been afraid he wouldn't be able to even become aroused with two people filming him, but his body responded to his actions at once. When he felt himself start to come, he turned to the camera as Simpson had instructed.
"Great. That's right. Faster now. Lots of action. Faster. Faster. Fantastic!" Simpson cried out as Kevin's semen spurted up onto his belly before being washed away by the shower. Simpson was so hard he hurt, but he could take care of that little problem as soon as he got home.
Kevin was slumped against the shower wall. 'Thank God, this is almost over.'
Simpson was still filming. "All right. As soon as you can, finish showering, then dry off and dress as usual."
Kevin did as he was told, thoroughly relieved when Simpson finally put the camera down. He was very silent in the car on the way home. He had never felt so used in his entire life. And this was only the beginning.
Cowley, that night, was very pleased. He had already heard the tape. "Lord N. That narrows it down somewhat. Good work."
"Thank you," Kevin replied. He hesitated--he had told Cowley what Simpson had forced him to do--then asked, "Simpson's instructions...did the mike pick them up?"
"No," said Cowley. "A few garbled noises from time to time, that's all. You can listen to the tape yourself, if you like."
"No, thanks," said Kevin. "I'd just as soon forget about it all. At least, for as long as I can."
"I understand," said Cowley. "Report in again tomorrow. And keep your jacket with you at all times."
"Don't worry," said Kevin. "I will."
It'd been over a week since Bodie and Doyle'd had any real work to do. They'd been on duty at the club just in case Simpson changed his methods and picked Kevin up there instead of at the school, but once Lucas and McCabe were following him, they were off duty until the next day.
The day after his drinking bout, Bodie had a splitting headache. Since they weren't on duty until noon, he'd managed to conceal the worst of it from Ray, so he didn't have to go into any long explanations. He'd also lost his nerve as far as confronting Doyle with his desires, let alone his deeper feelings. Bodie had, however, decided he'd better get back to normal as far as his behavior around Ray was concerned or else he not only wouldn't have him as a lover, he wouldn't have him as a friend, either.
When they were leaving work that day, Bodie waited until they were in the car and then turned to his partner. "I'm sorry about the way I've been behaving," he apologized. "It wasn't anything you'd done, just something personal I had to work out. Forgive me?" Bodie grinned his best little-boy-sorry grin, the one that made him look about nine years old.
Ray was certain there was more to it than that. In fact, if he hadn't known better, he'd have bet that Bodie was jealous. But he was willing to let bygones be bygones--at least for the time being. He could always pry into Bodie's behavior more at a later date. "Sure, why not," he said. "What else are friends for?"
"Great," said Bodie. "There's a match on the box tonight. You want to come over and watch it?"
"You got any food in?" Ray checked.
"No, but we can pick up some takeaway. I've got to stop at the off-license, anyway."
"All right," Ray agreed. "Sounds good."
On the surface, the evening was the same as any one of a hundred others, but there was a fine thread of tension that hadn't been there before. Ray found he was much more aware of Bodie than he'd ever been before, and it seemed that every time he glanced over at Bodie, Bodie was watching him instead of the match. It wasn't an unpleasant sensation. In fact, it was causing a mild feeling of champagne bubbles in his blood. Pity he couldn't act on it.
"Good match," Bodie said, switching off the set.
"You just say that 'cause your team won," replied Doyle. He stood up, then sat down again rather abruptly. "Think I've had just a touch too much to drink," he said, holding on to his head.
"Stay here, then," said Bodie casually. "You've done it before."
"I'll take you up on that," Ray said.
When they were in bed, Doyle had the strongest urge to lean over and kiss his partner but, considering that he wanted to stay in one piece, he decided that he'd better not. Reluctantly, he turned on his side, back to his partner, and willed himself to go to sleep.
The rest of the week went much the same way--casual evenings re-cementing their friendship--but with that slight degree of awareness that hadn't been there before. Doyle didn't know, yet, how this was going to affect their partnership.
A few days later, Simpson showed up at the club. He sat out front in his car until Kevin appeared, then honked at him and waved him over.
"You're driving a different car," Kevin said.
"Yes," said Simpson. "I got tired of the other one."
"Do you have my money?" asked Kevin.
"I'm afraid not," Simpson said. He smiled at Kevin in a way that suddenly made him no longer look like the perfect older brother. "The directors want another film. One with a little more action in it. Maybe a series of films. They'll pay you when you finish the series."
"No," said Kevin. "One was enough. I'm not doing anymore. Keep the money. I can do without it." He opened the door and started to get out but Simpson pulled him back in, slammed him against the seat, then held him there.
Alex Fox was just coming up to the club with two of his friends. "Isn't that Lamb over there?" he asked. "He's pretty good at tennis. I'll just go ask him if he'd like to make a fourth at doubles." He started towards the car just in time to see Simpson pull Kevin back into the car.
"I'm afraid you don't have any choice," Simpson said. "It you don't do it, we'll send a copy of the other film to your headmaster, and you'll be expelled from school. We'll send a copy to your family, too, and maybe even some interesting stills to your friends. Wouldn't it be better just to come along?"
Kevin bowed his head and bit his lip as if he were trying to keep from crying.
He hadn't yet answered when Alex came running up and grabbed at Kevin's arm, pulling him out of the car, and sending his glasses flying. Before they could run away, Malcolm came up and threw them both in the car, slamming the door after them. Simpson pulled away and Malcolm ran for his car and followed.
Doyle had seen the whole thing. As soon as Kevin started towards the car, he'd called Bodie on his R/T. Bodie arrived just after Simpson left, Doyle jumped in the car, and they took off after the other cars. The tracking device was working perfectly, so they kept back and followed at a distance. Bodie already had the recorder on. Simpson was incriminating himself beautifully, but they had to have a lot more than that to make a case against him.
"Well, I'd say we have the answer to a prayer here. Either you do what we want, or your friend gets damaged--severely."
"Don't hurt him," pleaded Kevin. "I'll do whatever you want, just leave him alone."
"As long as you cooperate, he'll be fine," Simpson assured him.
"Lamb? Peter? What's going on?" Alex was very confused.
"Just sit back and shut up and nothing will happen to you," Simpson said menacingly.
Alex wisely decided to do as he was told.
Their destination was a block of flats. Simpson pulled into the attached car park, and Malcolm pulled in along side. He came over and took hold of Alex, holding his arms up behind his back. Simpson held Kevin the same way, and they walked quickly to the lifts and went up to the flat Simpson was using. As soon as they got in, Malcolm took Alex to a back room and locked him in. Simpson and Kevin went into the lounge. The camera was already set up.
"What do you want me to do?" Kevin asked.
"As soon as Malcolm gets back, you go outside the door, come back in again, and do what you're told from then on," Simpson said. "Oh, and if you decide to leave, your pal will leave too--through the window."
"Don't worry," Kevin said. "I get the message."
Malcolm came back just then, so Kevin went out into the hall, shutting the door behind him. He re-entered the room and stood there looking at Simpson who was sitting in an arm chair.
"Strip," Simpson said to him.
Kevin immediately began to undress. He dropped his clothes in a pile on the floor, then stood there, naked, while Simpson looked him over thoroughly.
"Come here," Simpson told him.
Kevin walked forward until he was standing, hands at his sides, right in front of Simpson.
Simpson ran his hands over Kevin's body. He'd wanted to do this since the first time he'd seen Kevin. It was just as nice as he'd thought it'd be. He twisted Kevin's nipples roughly, then pinched them with his fingernails. Kevin cried out at the pain, and Simpson smiled slowly. "I like that," he said. "Do that whenever it hurts. Who knows, I might even take it easier on you if you do." He took Kevin's cock in his hand and stroked it 'til it filled out, then reached for his balls. He took them in one hand and squeezed hard. Kevin cried out again and tears came to his eyes. Simpson laughed.
"Turn around," he said, "legs apart, bend over and spread your cheeks."
Kevin did as he was told. Simpson put his hand between Kevin's legs, far enough forward to reach his mouth. "Suck it," he said, holding out one finger. He let Kevin get it thoroughly wet, then pulled it back and pushed it up Kevin's anus, moving it in and out a few times. Kevin squirmed whenever Simpson pushed on his prostate, but didn't say anything. Finally, Simpson removed his finger.
"Okay, straighten up," he said, "and sit on my lap." After Kevin did so, Simpson said, "Put your legs over the arms of the chair, and your hands on your legs, and scoot forward so your anus is exposed." When he finally had Kevin positioned the way he wanted, he began playing with him, bringing him to the brink of orgasm and then backing off. He'd finger fuck him for a while and play with his cock or balls, then he'd play with Kevin's nipples, pinching and twisting them, or squeeze his balls until he cried. Simpson's own balls ached as he did so.
Finally, he had Kevin so strung out he was begging for release. "Please," he cried, "please, please, please."
"What do you want?" Simpson asked, letting go of him. "Do you want to come?"
"Oh, yes. Please let me come," Kevin begged, squirming to try to get more sensation.
"All right. This time I will. Remember how good I was to you." He gave Kevin's cock a few hard strokes, which was all he needed to come, then pinched his nipples again while he was coming. Kevin cried out as he came, then collapsed back against Simpson. Simpson felt his cock throb against Kevin's bare arse. 'Next time,' he promised himself. 'Just be a little patient.'
"Okay," he said to Kevin. "Go in and shower, second door on the left, then come back here and get dressed, and we can start again."
Kevin slowly stood up and headed off down the hallway, Simpson following him with a camera.
Back in the lounge, Kevin got dressed while Simpson sat in his chair and watched. Malcolm stood by the camera and watched him, too.
"Why doesn't he ever say anything?" Kevin asked, not sure if Simpson would answer or not.
"He can't. He's mute. He can hear, he just can't speak." Kevin had finished dressing while Simpson was talking. "All right, go outside and come in again." His cock throbbed as he said it. This time he'd finally get his way with Kevin.
Kevin went out the door, fists clenched. He had to do it, but he hated every minute of it--especially when he'd begged Simpson for release. And Bodie and Doyle--and everybody else who heard the tape--would know exactly what Simpson was doing to him and making him do. He took a deep breath, released it and walked back into the room.
"Strip," Simpson said to him.
Again Kevin undressed, then stood while Simpson stared at him. He imagined he could feel the hot eyes burning into his skin.
"Come here," Simpson ordered, his voice rough.
Kevin walked over and stood in front of him.
Simpson stretched out his hand to the table that stood beside his chair. It had a number of items on it. He sorted through them and picked up a pair of tit clamps. He tossed them from hand to hand a few times, anticipating their use, then reached up and fastened them to Kevin's nipples.
Kevin cried out at the pain and started to reach up and take them off. Simpson slapped his hands down. "Don't try that again," he growled. "I think you need some discipline." He took Kevin's cock in hand and stroked it roughly. When it didn't fill out right away, he told Kevin, "Get it up."
Kevin took hold of his cock and ran his thumb over the head. He took his balls in his other hand and caressed them, rubbing them together gently. He finally managed to achieve an erection, not helped by the fact that Simpson, from time to time, would reach up and play with the tit clamps, sending new waves of pain through him.
"Well, I guess we're going to have to help you a bit this time," Simpson said when Kevin finally dropped his hands back to his sides. He took a wide, leather cock ring from the table and, pulling Kevin's balls forward, Simpson fastened the leather band tightly around his cock and scrotum. "That should help you keep it up," Simpson said. "Now, let's see about that discipline." He pulled Kevin over his lap, picked up a leather strap from the table and proceeded to spank him very systematically, reddening his whole arse. The first few strokes Kevin took silently but, by the end of the spanking, Kevin was crying freely, tears running down his face. He tried, once, to protect his arse with his hands, but Simpson lashed them fiercely and promised him worse if he tried it again. Finally, when his arse felt like it was on fire, Simpson put the strap down and set him on his feet again.
"Suck me," he said.
Kevin fell to his knees in front of Simpson. He opened Simpson's trousers and took out his cock. Kevin took it in his hand and guided it to his mouth.
As soon as he felt Kevin's mouth on him, Simpson thrust forward, nearly gagging him. He had waited so long for this, and the feeling was exquisite. He held Kevin's head down and fucked his mouth hard. All too soon, Simpson felt that he was nearly ready to come. He let go of Kevin's head and pulled out of his mouth. "Sit on me," he said.
Kevin stood up and turned around, then lowered himself gently onto Simpson's cock.
Simpson groaned with pleasure as he felt himself sink into the tight channel. He especially liked the heat of Kevin's arse against his cool belly. "Put your legs over the arms of the chair," he said as he had before, "and your hands on your legs." In this position, neither of them could move very much, and he could last a long time. He reached out and played with Kevin's tit clamps, making him squirm deliciously, then handled his cock and balls. Kevin squirmed again.
Simpson took his time and moved slowly towards climax, taking Kevin with him. Finally, he got right to the edge. He held Kevin by the hips and gave the couple of hard shoves it took to push him to climax. He stiffened as he came, then sank back into the chair.
Kevin again was pleading for release--his cock hot and hard. "Please let me come. Please." He ached to touch himself but knew he didn't dare.
"I don't think I will, this time," Simpson drawled. "Get up and face me."
Kevin slowly got out of the chair and turned so he stood facing Simpson, fists clenched at his sides.
Simpson looked at him appreciatively--tear tracks on his face, nipples reddening under the clamps, cock sticking out from its binding--he looked lovely.
Just then the doorbell sounded in a pattern Simpson recognized. "Go answer the door," he said.
Kevin shuddered, then turned to do as he was told. Simpson admired the red arse, then noticed his semen starting to trickle down the backs of Kevin's legs and grinned.
Kevin finally got to the door, having forced himself to take each step. He unlocked it and reluctantly pulled it open.
The man who stood there was taller than Simpson and heavier. His reddish hair was styled, and his clothes were obviously expensive. He looked at Kevin and smiled slowly. "You're much better than you were on film," he said and walked into the flat
Kevin flushed as he shut and locked the door and followed the new man back into the lounge.
"I see you've got him nicely broken in," he was saying as Kevin entered the room.
"Yes, you timed it perfectly, Nigel," Simpson said. He had arranged himself while Kevin was out of the room so he looked like nothing had ever happened. "I was just about to have him shower, then we can start your scenario."
"Good," Nigel said. "I'll come along and watch."
Simpson cleaned himself up while Kevin showered.
The feel of the water on Kevin's cock pushed him towards the edge again, but wasn't quite enough stimulation to let him climax. He got out and dried himself, then led the way back to the lounge and stood there waiting to be told what to do next.
Nigel sat in the chair Simpson had been in, and Simpson was in another one nearby.
"Come here," Nigel said. Kevin walked over and stood in front of him. "Nice," Nigel complimented Simpson after inspecting Kevin closely. "But I think we can do a bit more." He picked up a pair of small weights and fastened them to the tit clamps, then flicked them and set them swinging.
Kevin cried out at the extra weight on his abused nipples, then moaned as they swung back and forth. He cried out again moments later, as Nigel picked up some more clamps and applied them to Kevin's scrotum and foreskin.
"We can add weights to those later," Nigel said. "This'll do for now." He picked up a leather collar with sharply pointed studs on the inside and handed it to Kevin. "Here," he said. "Put this on. I like my slaves to look like slaves."
Kevin took the collar and put it on. It was tight enough to make the studs press into his neck uncomfortably. Any pull on it would make them cut into the skin.
"Good. That looks a lot better," Nigel said. He pulled Kevin across his lap as Simpson had and picked up the strap. "His arse isn't nearly red enough," he said to Simpson. "Are you getting lax?"
"No. I thought I'd give you the pleasure of finishing it."
"Well, then, that was thoughtful of you." The first stroke had Kevin crying, as his arse was still sore from before. The man kept it up until Kevin was having difficulty breathing from the tears, then he stopped and said, "Lift your feet." Kevin did so, wondering what was going to happen next. Nigel proceeded to use the strap on his feet until they were as red as his arse. "Get off," he said then.
Kevin tried to stand up but couldn't. His feet were too sore. He stood on first one, then the other while the two men laughed at him. "On your knees, boy," Nigel finally said, and Kevin dropped to them gratefully. "Now we can get down to the real pleasure," the man said.
Kevin tried hard to breathe. There was a moaning sound nearby and he realized it came from him. His neck was sore and his nipples, genitals, arse and feet were excruciatingly painful.
"Suck me," Nigel said.
As he had done with Simpson, Kevin open Nigel's trousers, took out his cock and guided it to his mouth. It was larger than Simpson's, and he had to stretch his mouth wide to take it in. Nigel used him even harder than Simpson had done--holding him by the collar so he couldn't pull away without hurting himself, and thrusting hard enough to gag him with each stroke. Kevin was still having trouble breathing, so he had to gasp for air whenever Nigel pulled back a fraction. Finally, Nigel withdrew completely, and Kevin was able to get a few gasps of air while he was talking.
"Here," Nigel said to Simpson. "You can use his mouth. I want his arse."
Simpson had been watching avidly as Nigel had prepared Kevin and used him and was as hard as he had been before he'd fucked Kevin. "Come here and suck me," he ordered Kevin.
Kevin crawled over to Simpson, opened his trousers and took out his cock. Kevin took it into his mouth with relief at its smaller size and started sucking. He knew what to expect now when Simpson thrust, but it was easier than it had been with Nigel. No sooner had Simpson started fucking his mouth, than he felt Nigel's hands on his arse. Kevin squirmed, as it was still sore, but Nigel only gripped him harder. He entered him with one stroke and started to fuck him hard, balls slapping against Kevin's arse with every stroke. Kevin felt stretched wide open with the size of him.
As much pain as he was in, Kevin's cock, which had softened earlier while Nigel was doing things to him, hardened more each time Nigel's cock encountered his prostate. Soon he was moaning in need as the two men fucked him.
Simpson came first, shooting down Kevin's throat Nigel came shortly thereafter. Kevin sighed with relief when Nigel finally withdrew. He knelt on the floor while the two men tidied themselves up and Nigel went back to his chair.
"I think that's all for this evening, Malcolm," Simpson said to the man who had been filming the whole thing. "Isn't it?" he asked Nigel.
"Yes," he said. "We can film some more tomorrow. Now we'll just relax. Come here," he said to Kevin. "Kneel by my chair." Kevin did as Nigel commanded, squirming slightly at the tickle of the semen trickling down his thighs.
Malcolm put the camera down and left the room, while Simpson got drinks for the two of them. They sipped their drinks and chatted about sports and current events.
Nigel idly ran his thumb over the head of Kevin's cock. Kevin involuntarily thrust forward. "Come over here facing away from me and kneel down with your arse in the air," Nigel ordered. Kevin obeyed, and Nigel gave him five swats with the strap. He screamed at each one. "Go back the way you were," Nigel said. Kevin followed his orders, tears streaming down his face. "That's a warning," Nigel said. "Any time you react in anyway except verbally to anything I do, you'll get an additional five swats. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir," Kevin said.
"Good. Then don't make me do anything more to you." Nigel went back to his drink and conversation. From time to time he again ran his thumb across the head of Kevin's cock or played with the weights dangling from the tit clamps. Kevin held himself rigidly still and managed not to react to either. 'You bastard. We'll get you, too. Anyone that would treat a boy like this is lower than something that crawled out from under a rock and deserves to be stepped on.'
Later, Simpson sent Malcolm out for a meal. Kevin wasn't offered any food, and he was afraid to ask for any even though he was hungry.
After they'd eaten and had a couple more drinks, Nigel yawned. "I think I'll be off to bed now."
"Yes, I could use the sleep, too," Simpson agreed.
"Come around and kneel down as you did before," Nigel ordered Kevin.
Kevin did so, cringing at the thought of more swats. He couldn't figure out what he'd done wrong this time. He cried out in surprise as he felt something large and hard pressing against his anus. It had a slippery feel to it. Nigel pushed on it and it went inside him, stretching and filling him. "Not had a butt plug inside you before?" Nigel laughed. "Kneel up." Kevin complied, and the man fastened the straps that held it in place to Kevin's cock ring. The butt plug put a constant pressure on Kevin's prostate and his cock started throbbing again.
Simpson came over and handed Kevin a large glass of water. "Drink," he said.
Kevin drank thirstily. When he had finished the glass, Simpson took it from him, refilled it and handed it back. He continued doing this until Kevin couldn't drink anymore, then took the pitcher and glass back to the kitchen.
When he came back, Nigel stood up and snapped a leash to Kevin's collar, then walked down the hall, Kevin at his side. Simpson followed him into one of the rooms.
"I think you've got everything you need. If not, just call Malcolm on the intercom, and he'll get it for you."
"Thank you," Nigel said. "Everything seems fine."
Simpson left, and Nigel led Kevin to a pallet on the floor by the head of the bed and fastened the leash to a clip in the wall. "You sleep here," he told him. "Don't disturb me for anything. Understand?"
"Yes, sir," Kevin said.
"Good. Also, under no circumstances are you to touch yourself and make yourself come. If I find that you have, when you're aroused again I'll whip your cock until it's as red as your arse."
"I won't," Kevin assured him. The very thought of having his cock whipped like his arse had been was enough to keep him from ever touching it, no matter how desperate he was to come.
There was a basin in the room. Nigel cleaned himself up, undressed and went to bed. He was asleep almost immediately as Kevin could tell by his snores. Kevin stayed awake for a long time.
Bodie and Doyle sat in the buggie-boo outside the block of flats recording all that was going on. They'd radioed in when they got in position, and Cowley had sent the van with its more sophisticated equipment out to them so they didn't have to rely on the small recorder in the car. It wasn't the first time they'd recorded an S/M scene, but it was the first time they'd done so when they knew the person who was involuntarily the bottom. There was nothing they could do except sit and listen.
It was particularly hard on Ray since he'd gotten to know Kevin more than Bodie had, and his face showed it.
"Do you care for him that much, then?" Bodie asked, trying not to show his hurt that Ray could feel that way about another man.
"Care? Of course I care. I think he's very brave to go in knowing what they were going to do to him, and I hate having to hear it, but I'd feel that way about anyone in a position like that. Don't you?" Ray answered. 'What's Bodie really asking me,' he wondered. 'Could he possibly think that I love Kevin? Is that what he wants to know?'
"Sure, I care about anyone in that position. I just thought..." he began, then stopped. "No. Never mind. I don't know what I thought. I'll just be glad when this op is over," he said. 'Then maybe...if I've got the bottle to bring it up....'
"So will I," said Ray. "And I bet Kevin will, too."
They didn't talk much for the rest of the shift--just sat and listened and wished it was all over.
At eight o'clock, Lucas and McCabe relieved them. They were more than happy to go. When they got to the car, Doyle turned to Bodie. "How 'bout coming back to my flat? I'll cook."
"I don't know...," Bodie started to say. He wasn't sure if he could stand to be with Ray, knowing his thoughts would be concentrated on Kevin.
"Please," Ray interrupted. "I need you around tonight, Bodie. I'm no fit company for anyone else, and I certainly don't want to be on my own. All I'd do is brood."
"All right, then," Bodie agreed, pleased. This was the first time Ray'd ever indicated he needed Bodie for anything. Anyway, he felt much the same way himself
When they got in, Ray made them drinks and they found a comedy program with Penelope Keith on the telly that they could sit and giggle at. After it was over, Doyle threw together some spaghetti, salad and garlic bread and brought out a bottle of plonk. They flipped channels and were lucky enough to run across an old Gene Kelly movie, miles removed from modem day villains.
After it was over, Bodie got up to go. "Stay," Ray said to him. "It's been good, having you here. And I still don't want to be on my own."
"Sure, why not?" Bodie said, and he followed Ray into the bedroom. 'As soon as this is all over,' he resolved, 'I'm going to tell him how I feel. I actually think we might be able to make it work.'
The next morning, Bodie borrowed a shirt and pants from Ray. He was still wearing the jeans he'd worn as a groundskeeper. He'd never understand why Doyle liked them so much. He'd take slacks any day and yet, there was Doyle, who'd had to wear slacks as an instructor, climbing eagerly into his blue jeans and t-shirt. 'Oh, well, to each his own, and on Doyle, they definitely look good.'
"You finished with the bathroom, Ray?"
"Yeah," Doyle said. "For now. You go ahead and I'll fix brekkie. I can always use my battery-powered shaver in the car."
Bodie showered and shaved, then dressed and went out to the kitchen. He usually only had toast and coffee on work mornings but Doyle had done a bit of a fry-up besides--bacon and eggs, mushrooms and fried tomatoes, even some fried bread.
"What's the occasion, then?" Bodie asked.
"Nothing special," Doyle answered. "Just using up stuff before it goes off. Eat up."
Bodie tucked in and polished off his bit in no time. Ray was still eating. "I'll just pop down and get the car, shall I?" Bodie said, having remembered that they'd had to leave it almost a block away.
"All right," Ray said. "I'll meet you downstairs."
Bodie grabbed his leather jacket off the peg as he left the flat. He preferred a cloth one unless he was on his bike; but, like the jeans, he'd worn it at the club, none of his other jackets being appropriate for a groundsman.
When Doyle went to get a jacket, he saw that Bodie had grabbed his, instead of his own. 'Damn,' he thought. 'Didn't really want to wear the leather one today. Don't really have any choice now, unless I want to carry an extra jacket around.' He shrugged Bodie's jacket on as he left the flat.
When he got downstairs, Bodie was parked at the curb. He took off the jacket, then got into the car and tossed it to Bodie. "Berk, took the wrong jacket, didn't you?"
Bodie laughed. "I thought this one was a little tight. Figured I'd just been putting on weight and was hoping Cowley wouldn't notice. Here." He took off Doyle's jacket and handed it to him, then put on his own. "Thanks."
They were back on duty at eight o'clock. "There hasn't been much activity yet this morning," said Lucas. "A few sounds of people moving around the flat is all." They were using a directional microphone to supplement the one in Kevin's pocket, but neither of them were picking much up just then.
"Oh, by the way, they're in the second floor flat, but Cowley says it's not Simpson's. We know whose it is, but not how he's connected with Simpson.
"Also, Cowley had a talk with the Foxes. He told them that Alex is helping CI5, but not what's actually happened to him, and has assured them that he'll be okay. I hope he's right about that," McCabe said. With that, he and Lucas left, and Bodie and Doyle settled down to listen.
"I certainly hope this breaks today," said Doyle.
"So do I," agreed Bodie.
Kevin hadn't slept much that night. Besides his other pains, his bladder desperately needed to be emptied, and he was virtually positive that he wasn't going to be allowed to do anything about it. He was aware the instant Nigel woke up.
Nigel sat on the edge of the bed and admired Kevin. He saw, with some disappointment, that Kevin's cock was still hard. He'd've loved to have started the day with a little punishment. 'Well, maybe that can still be arranged.' He got dressed, then unhooked Kevin's leash from the wall. "Come along, boy," he said, and led the way to the kitchen.
Simpson was there already, fixing breakfast. "What would you like to eat?" he asked Nigel.
"Toast and coffee's fine, thanks," Nigel replied, sitting at the table. He tugged at Kevin's leash and he knelt up beside him. "The boy will have some more water."
"No," Kevin said. "I'm not thirsty."
Nigel picked up his knife and hit Kevin's cock with the flat of it. "Hold your cock out," he said.
Kevin wanted to refuse, but he looked at Nigel's face and decided he'd better do as he was told. He took his cock in one hand and held it out in front of him.
Nigel hit it with the knife four more times, as hard as he could. "You can let it go now," he said. "Let that be a lesson to you. Five swats on the cock every time you say 'no' to me. Now drink your water."
Kevin had cried out at every stroke. Tears were running down his face by the fifth. He let go of his cock and took the glass of water from Simpson. He tried to drink it slowly, but Nigel raised the knife again, so he swallowed as quickly as he could. He handed the empty glass to Simpson who refilled it and handed it back. He drank water until he was gagging. When he started to spew it back up, Nigel let him stop.
"Good boy," Nigel said. He reached down and pulled on the weights attached to Kevin nipples. "I think you've got the message now."
Kevin managed, just, not to cry out at Nigel's actions. He knelt beside Nigel and hoped he'd just leave him alone for a while.
Nigel nibbled at his toast while Simpson ate his breakfast. When they finished, they went back into the lounge, taking the coffee with them. Kevin noticed his jacket was still by the wall where he'd dropped it when he'd stripped last night.
"When are the others coming?" Nigel asked.
"I told them any time after noon."
"Well, then, that gives us a couple of hours for playing around, doesn't it?"
"Do you want Malcolm to film this?" Simpson asked.
Nigel considered for a moment. "No, that's all right. Anything I do now, I can always repeat this afternoon. He's going to be filming then, anyway." Nigel looked at Kevin kneeling beside him, reach down and felt his arse. "Hmmm. Feels a bit cool. I think it needs warming up. Beg for it, boy."
Kevin started to refuse, then remembered the incident in the kitchen. "Please...," he started to say.
"Down in front of me with your arse in the air," Nigel instructed, giving the leash a yank.
The points of the brads poked into the soft flesh of his throat as Kevin scurried around in front of Nigel and assumed the position he'd demanded. "Please, sir, spank me," he begged.
"I don't think you really want to be spanked," Nigel said. "It sure doesn't sound like it."
"Yes, sir, I do. Really. Please." Kevin sounded as impassioned as he could manage.
"All right. If that's what you really want," Nigel said. "Bring me the strap."
Kevin crawled over to the table and reached for the strap.
"With your mouth, boy," Nigel ordered.
Kevin took the strap in his mouth and crawled back to Nigel. The man reached down and took it from him with a smile.
"Up on my lap, boy," Nigel said.
Kevin lay face down across Nigel's lap and held his breath, waiting for the first blow. It wasn't long in coming. Nigel spanked him until his arse was almost purple from the blows and he was gasping for air between his sobs and then started on his feet. When they were as dark as his arse, Nigel stopped and let Kevin get down.
Simpson had gotten so turned on watching this, he'd taken his cock out and started masturbating.
"Get over there and suck him," Nigel ordered.
Kevin did as he was told. Anything to get away from Nigel. But no sooner had he taken Simpson's cock in his mouth than he felt Nigel behind him. Nigel unfastened the butt plug, pulled it out and took him in one swift stroke, eager to feel Kevin's hot arse against his cool skin. The two men fucked him as they had the night before. Simpson again came first, almost choking Kevin with his semen. Nigel came moments later. He sat back, sighing in satisfaction, then tucked himself back in and returned to his chair.
"He's one of the best we've ever had," he said to Simpson. "You'll get a bonus for him." He pulled Kevin over in front of him again. "I think you need a bit more attention," he said, looking through the items on the table. He took the weights off the tit clamps. Kevin hardly had a chance to breathe a sigh of relief when Nigel put heavier ones on. The tug on his already tender nipples was extremely painful but he could bear it, just. Nigel then put weights on the clamps on his scrotum and fore-skin. Tears sprang to his eyes at the pain. Nigel grinned at his reaction.
"You know, Peter," Nigel said, playing with the weights, "he's being such a good boy, I think we should give him some reward, don't you?"
"If you say so. What do you suggest?"
"Well, he must need to pee quite badly by this time. We could let him do that."
Kevin brightened at that. "Oh, yes, please."
"That's a good idea," Simpson said.
"All right," said Nigel. ''That's what we'll do. All you have to do is walk to the WC and stand there and use it. There's one right across the hall."
"Oh, thank you," Kevin said gratefully. He stood up, took two excruciatingly painful steps and fell back onto his knees.
"Oh, my, Peter," Nigel said in a patently false tone of voice. "He's not doing as he was told. I guess he needs another lesson." He turned to Kevin. "Come here and hold out your cock."
Faced with the choice of walking on his nearly blistered feet or having his cock beaten again, Kevin decided to try to make it to the WC. "I'm doing it," he cried, struggling to his feet again. "I really am." He managed three steps this time, then fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face. If only he could crawl. He heard steps behind him and struggled up again, but this time he managed only one step before he fell.
"Well, I guess I'll have to help him," Nigel said in the same voice he'd used earlier. He turned to Simpson. "You get out the other 'toy.'
He took Kevin by the collar and pulled him up. The points of the studs broke through the skin of his throat and trickles of blood ran down his chest. "You can choose," Nigel said to Kevin. "I'll 'help' you to the WC this way, or crawl back to me and have your cock spanked thoroughly for misbehavior." Standing hurt so much, Kevin could hardly think. Both alternatives would be exceedingly painful, but he decided to try to make it to the WC, because he could at least empty his bladder if he could get there.
"WC," Kevin managed to gasp out, and took a step forward. Nigel moved along beside him, holding him up by the collar and 'encouraging' him from time to time with swats on his arse. He flinched each time Nigel did so and tried to walk faster. The journey seemed endless, though he only had to walk to the door of the lounge and across the hall.
When they got there, Nigel let go of his collar. Kevin fell forward and steadied himself on the back of the toilet. Nigel unfastened the cock ring, though he left on the clamps and weights, then leaned against the wall to watch.
Kevin had been afraid he might not be able to go once he got there, because he sometimes had trouble peeing if someone was waiting for him or a stranger was watching, and he was also afraid that if he didn't go at once, Nigel wouldn't let him go at all. However, he needn't have worried. His bladder was so overfull that he barely had time to grab his cock and point when a steady stream of urine started pouring out. He tried to force it out as fast as he could, for fear Nigel would make him stop, midway.
Nigel, however, let him go 'til he was finished, then put the cock ring back on even tighter than before. It hurt his balls even more after they'd been released for a time. Nigel played with the weights on his cock and scrotum for a moment, then grabbed his collar and 'helped' him back to the lounge, swatting his arse at almost every step.
While Nigel and Kevin were gone, Malcolm came in to reload the camera.
"How's that other kid?" Simpson asked. "Have you checked on him?"
Malcolm nodded and held up two fingers.
"Twice?" Simpson interpreted. "Last night and this morning?" he guessed.
Malcolm nodded again.
"Maybe you'd better check him again just to be on the safe side."
Malcolm turned and left the room. Moments later he hurried back in, making shoeing motions with his hands.
"What? He's gone?"
Malcolm nodded.
"Damn! I bet he's on his way to the nearest cop-shop, too. That means we'll have to get out of here as soon as the others arrive. Probably have to off the kid sooner, too. Pity, since Nigel's rather fond of this one. How did it happen, anyway?"
Malcolm shrugged and gestured toward the door, inviting Simpson to go see for himself.
Simpson did so, hurrying down the hall to the room where they'd put Alex, Malcolm following closely on his heels. He checked the window and found that the wood around the lock had been gouged out with what looked like a pocket knife. "Didn't you search him before you left him here?" Simpson demanded.
Malcolm shook his head.
"Damn!" Simpson said again. "Three stories up, too. You'd think that'd've been enough to discourage anyone." He looked out the window. "He must have shinned down the water pipe. I hope he fell and broke his neck!" he raged, as he and Malcolm returned to the lounge.
"We've got him!" Bodie exulted. "But with more people arriving any time, we'll need back-up before we can go in. Also, the local police will have to be filled in and warned to stay away in case Alex does get to them."
"Yeah," Ray agreed. "I'll call Cowley and let him know."
Cowley listened as Ray told him everything they'd heard. "I'll notify the police," he said, "and send you some back-up. Do not go in before they arrive. If Simpson moves 8.1, follow and report. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir," Doyle replied.
"Good," Cowley said. "I don't want any of your heroics this time. They might get 8.1 killed."
Bodie and Doyle sat back to wait.
When they got back to the lounge, Nigel let go of Kevin's collar, letting him fall back down on his hands and knees. He stayed where he fell, whimpering and gasping for air--his nose having long since been clogged up--as the blood from the puncture wounds at his throat dripped slowly onto the floor.
"Oh, good, Peter has the new 'toy' out!" Nigel exclaimed.
Kevin looked up. The largest dildo he could ever have imagined stood on its stand in the middle of the floor, glistening with some kind of lubricant.
"Film this, Malcolm," Nigel said.
Malcolm went over and started the camera.
"Come and kneel over it," Nigel said to Kevin.
Kevin did as he was told. Nigel took a strap from the table and bound Kevin's hands behind his back, then fastened them to his collar; so, if he relaxed his hands it would pull the brads into his neck again.
"Now sit on it," Nigel commanded. "I have a few things to do," Nigel went on, "but when I get back, for every inch that isn't inside you, you get ten lashes on the cock. Understand?" He tapped the weights on Kevin's tit clamps and set them swinging.
"Yes, sir," Kevin replied, lowering himself onto the tip and forcing himself down on it. It felt like it was tearing him open, and he had to stop for a moment to try to accustom himself to the new pain. He started again in a minute, though, because he knew the pain to his cock would be much worse, and forced himself onto it, inch by inch.
Meanwhile, Simpson took Nigel aside and told him what had happened.
"You stupid ass!" Nigel shouted. "You've probably ruined everything. And this was the best one we've had in a long time. I'd like to put you in one of these films--preferably a snuff one!"
"Now, now," Simpson said. "We can work everything out. Colin's been wanting us to go to his place for some time, and he's got the perfect set-up. The others will be here any minute, and then we can go."
"All right," agreed Nigel, not really mollified. "But you can forget what I said about a bonus for this job. You'll be lucky if I pay you at all. Watch him," he threw over his shoulder as he left the room.
Kevin couldn't help overhearing. He didn't know if this new development was good or bad, but he was glad Alex had escaped. He forced himself further down and had to spread his legs wider apart so he could continue to do so. He heard Nigel returning, took a deep breath and forced himself down the last few inches so his arse was touching the floor and his legs were splayed out beside him.
"Pity," Nigel said to Simpson when he entered the room. "He got all the way down. Well, he makes a pretty picture like that, and there'll be other times for punishment, I'm sure." He poured himself a drink, pulled his chair over closer to Kevin and sat down to await the arrival of the others.
A few moments later, Kevin realized that the lubricant on the dildo contained an irritant that caused him to itch. He squirmed to try to rub it, and that set the weights swinging at his nipples, cock and scrotum. His bladder was beginning to fill up again, from the water he'd drunk that morning; he was very hungry, as it'd been nearly twenty-four hours since he'd eaten; his feet and arse were hot and sore; his arms were aching and pulling the collar against his throat; and the dildo was putting constant pressure on his prostate, so his erection was again hard and aching.
Nigel sat and enjoyed the spectacle, rubbing his thumb from time to time on the head of Kevin's cock. "Water," he said to Simpson.
'Oh, no,' thought Kevin, but he opened his mouth and drank down the water Simpson held for him. Even though he knew he would regret it later, it did fill his stomach and curb the hunger a bit.
Malcolm continued filming.
Bodie and Doyle were waiting impatiently for their back-up to arrive. Finally, a car pulled up with Murphy, Anson, Jax and Pennington in it. Doyle radioed for an ambulance, then said, "Let's go. Pennington, you take the fire escape." They gave him time to get around to the back of the building, then started up. When they got up to the second floor, Doyle turned to Jax and Anson. "No one else is here yet. You two stay out here and arrest anyone who gets off on this floor." The other three went to the door and knocked.
There was a knock at the door.
"That must be some of the others," Simpson said. "I'll go let them in." He went out into the hall and opened the door. "What do you want?" he asked, then recognized Doyle. "You're that new instructor at the club. What're you doing here?"
Doyle smiled ferally. "Arresting you." He grabbed Simpson in a necklock and put his gun to Simpson's head. "I wouldn't make any noise, if I were you," Ray said, handing Simpson to Murphy. Simpson, who had turned white as a sheet, made no effort to get away as Murphy pulled him outside the flat.
"Who is it?" Nigel called out from the lounge.
"Us," Doyle said as they entered the lounge, guns drawn.
Nigel and Malcolm, caught off guard, offered no resistance. Bodie held his gun on them while Ray holstered his and went over to Kevin, staring down at him in horror.
Kevin looked up at him and grinned. "Fancy meeting you here," he said. "You couldn't give me a hand, could you?"
Ray knelt down beside him. The question was, where to start first? He took out his pocket knife and cut the cord fastening Kevin's hands to his collar, and then cut his hands loose.
"Thanks, mate," Kevin said, rubbing his wrists. His hands hadn't been tied long enough to cut off the circulation; they just tingled a bit. "How's Alex?" he asked as he reached up and took off the collar, then removed the clamps from his nipples. There was a moment of relief, and then the blood flowing back in was almost as painful as the clamps themselves had been.
"He's fine," Doyle told him. "He showed up at the police station just before our back-up arrived. Cowley's gone to get him and take him home."
Kevin rubbed his nipples for a few moments, then removed the clamps on his scrotum and foreskin, along with the cock ring. Again, the blood flowing in was exceedingly painful. "I'm glad he's all right. He's a good kid. I liked him a lot. I'll have to thank him for what he did." He rubbed himself for a while, then lifted himself off the dildo.
"Need anymore help, mate?" Doyle asked, checking the dildo for any signs of blood. Luckily, there weren't any.
"Not for this," Kevin replied. "But I will need some help getting into my clothes. I could also use a meal and a pee--not necessarily in that order. Mainly, I wish I could stop the itching inside."
"We'll be sending you to the hospital soon," Doyle said. "I'm sure they'll have something for it. For now, I'll get your clothes and help you into them as soon as I report to Cowley." Doyle took out his R/T and told Cowley what had gone on, including Kevin's concern for Alex, then went over to get Kevin's clothes.
As Ray picked them up, the microphone fell out of the jacket pocket. It rolled across the floor and under Bodie's foot just as he was changing position. He lost his balance and diverted his attention from Nigel and Malcolm for just a second. It was enough for Malcolm. He dashed through the door and down the hall. Bodie regained his balance and hared after him. Cowley had sent a gun along for Kevin, if he was in a fit state to use it. Doyle handed it to him now. "Can you guard Nigel while I go see if Bodie needs any assistance?"
"I'd be delighted to," Kevin said as he knelt facing the man who'd tortured him. "Maybe he'll even try and make a run for it."
Nigel sat further down in his chair, not wanting to give Kevin the slightest excuse to shoot him.
Bodie, meanwhile, had caught up with Malcolm. Bodie grabbed him and spun him around. Then threw a punch that hit him on the chin and knocked him out. Malcolm, however, had been swinging as he turned and, as Bodie hit him, he hit Bodie under the eye. It didn't hit with anything like his normal force but, since he was a trained boxer, it was enough to knock Bodie back against the wall. Bodie hit the wall sharply with the back of his head and slid down the wall to sit at the base of it, dazed.
Ray came running up and took in the scene at a glance. He went to check Malcolm first. He was still out. Doyle took out his handcuffs and put them on Malcolm, then turned to Bodie. He was sitting with a silly half-smile on his face, trying to focus his eyes. Doyle knelt down, grabbed him by the front of his jacket and leaned over him. Looking at his face, he could tell Bodie was going to have a real shiner the next day. "Are you all right, Bodie?" he asked urgently.
"'M just fine, love, now that you're here," he said in a slurred voice, still too confused to know exactly what he was saying.
'So, I was right,' thought Doyle. "Come on, then, love," he said, deliberately using the same word Bodie had used. "Let's get back to Kevin." And he put an arm around him to help him up, then half-carried him back to the lounge.
When they got there, nothing had changed. Doyle lowered Bodie into a chair and went to the door to see what was happening outside the flat. Jax and Anson had half-a-dozen men between them by the lift, and Murphy was still guarding Simpson. "C'mon in, Murph," Doyle said. "You can guard Simpson and Nigel at the same time, while I help Kevin dress--after I call the police to send a paddy wagon to take this lot in."
While Murphy held a gun on Nigel and Simpson, Doyle studied Kevin's injuries, then asked him, "Do you want to kneel by the pot or sit on it?"
"Sit on it, please, even though it'll hurt," Kevin said. So Doyle carried Kevin into the WC and sat him on the pot. While he was occupied, Ray went into the kitchen and rummaged in the fridge. He managed to put together two rounds of cheese salad sandwich and put water on to boil. "Coffee or tea?" he called out to Kevin.
"Coffee, please," Kevin answered.
Doyle put coffee crystals in a cup and, as soon as the water boiled, poured the water on them. He took the coffee and sandwich into the lounge then went and got Kevin. He laid him on the sofa and pulled on his pants and trousers, then put on his socks while Kevin put on his shirt. Kevin then sat curled up against the arm of the sofa to eat.
Doyle looked at him again, puzzled. "Did they let you shave in the middle of all that? And why didn't a day's growth of beard tell them you were a lot older than fifteen?"
Kevin laughed. "I never even thought of that," he said between bites. "No, they didn't let me shave. The question never even came up. I have such a light beard I only need to shave once or twice a week."
The ambulance arrived while he was still eating, but he insisted on finishing his food before he left, so he had the pleasure of seeing Nigel and Simpson led away in handcuffs. "All right," he said, "I'll go now."
Bodie was put in the same ambulance and taken to hospital to be checked over. After calling Cowley with an update, Ray followed the ambulance, while the others returned to headquarters.
Cowley picked up Alex at the police station as soon as they let him know the boy had arrived and drove him home.
"Is Lamb all right?" Alex asked, as soon as they were in the car.
"He will be," Cowley replied. "And soon. Mostly because of you. Your escaping rushed their program."
"Well, I had to do something, " Alex said. "I could hear his screaming, so I knew they were doing horrible things to him. I had to try to help, somehow."
"You did," Cowley said. "Very possibly, you saved his life."
"I'm glad," said Alex. "I think he's terrific. He can do so many things for as young as he is."
"He's not really as young as he seems," Cowley said. "Actually, he's twenty-five but he looks a lot younger. And, of course, he acted even younger to try to trap Simpson."
"Oh," said Alex despondently. "I had hoped we could still be pals. I...I like him a lot, but I don't suppose he'd want to have a kid hanging around him if he's that old."
"Well, when he was rescued, his first thoughts were for you," Cowley said. "I'm sure he'll be 'round to thank you as soon as he gets out of hospital. Maybe you could still be friends, if not pals."
"That would be great," Alex said, smiling.
Cowley came up to Doyle where he was sitting in the waiting room. "Good work, 4.5. That was a job well done."
"Thank you, sir," Doyle said. "But it was mostly due to Kevin."
"I know," said Cowley. "I've just talked to his doctor. He's going to be all right--inside and out--it'll just take a little time. He can have visitors now. I'm on my way up to congratulate him."
Ray went along with him. He wanted to talk to Kevin, too.
"I've also talked to Bodie's doctor," Cowley said. "He's letting Bodie go home because he doesn't think he has a concussion, but he wanted Bodie to take it easy for fortyeight hours. You take him home and keep an eye on him. I'll see both of you in two days."
"Yes, sir," Doyle said happily.
They came to Kevin's room and went inside. Kevin was lying on his side, reading.
"You're looking a lot better," Doyle said.
"Yes," Kevin agreed. "The doctor gave me something for the itching and a topical analgesic for all the places they hurt me, so I feel a lot better."
"Congratulations on a successful first assignment, 8.1," Cowley said.
"Thank you, sir," said Kevin, "but I'd just as soon it was a successful last assignment. I realize that wasn't a typical operation, and I'm very glad I was able to help put Nigel and Simpson away, but I'm sure I'll be happier back with my computers."
"I'm sorry to hear that," said Cowley. "But, of course, it has to be your decision. However," he continued, "I'm going to leave your file open so, if you ever change your mind, you have but to say the word to be active again."
"I appreciate that, sir," said Kevin, "but I'm sure it will never happen."
"Well," Cowley said, "you'll be getting a bonus from this assignment, and you've got two weeks off with pay--more if the doctor says you need it. You're not to come back until you're completely healed." He frowned at Kevin. "You're no good to me if you can't sit at your computer," he added gruffly and started to leave.
"Oh, yes," he remembered. "Young Alex was quite taken with you. He said he had hoped you could be pals. I told him you were coming to see him and said maybe you could still be friends. Possibly you could see your way clear to visiting him occasionally."
"I think I could manage that easily enough," Kevin said.
"Good," said Cowley as he left the room.
"Will you mind visiting with Alex?" Ray asked.
"No, not at all," said Kevin. "I'd planned to do it, anyway," he went on. "I thought he was very nice, and I'm virtually positive he's gay and, while I'd never take advantage of a boy," he grinned at Ray, "it won't hurt to be there in the background. After all, the age difference between thirty-four and twenty-five is proportionately a lot less than that between twenty-five and sixteen. And, if it doesn't work out, well, that's life."
"It sounds like you're going to be all right," Ray said. "But, if you ever need anything, you know where I am. Don't hesitate to give me a call."
"Ta," said Kevin. "But I hope it won't be necessary."
"Actually," Doyle said, "I'd like to remain friends. We could meet occasionally for a drink or dinner."
"I don't know if that would be wise," Kevin said. "Somehow I don't think Bodie would approve."
"Don't worry about Bodie," Ray said. "I'm going to sort him out tomorrow. Now, though, I think I'd better go. You're looking a little peaky. Take care."
"I will, Ray," Kevin said. He held out his hand and Doyle took it. "Thanks--for everything."
"Even this?" Ray asked, indicating Kevin's body with a wave of his hand.
"Even this," Kevin agreed.
"You're more than welcome," Ray said. He leaned down and gave Kevin a quick kiss. "That's for luck," he said. "I'll be back to see you before you're released from here."
When Ray went around to casualty to pick up Bodie, his partner was still a little wobbly. Doyle helped him from the wheelchair into the car, then drove off towards Bodie's flat. He filled him in on the way.
"And, finally, the other members of Simpson's 'board of directors' are squealing their heads off. There's more than enough evidence to put Simpson and Nigel away for several years, even though Nigel is a Viscount. The rest will get minor sentences.
"As for you, I'm taking you home right now and putting you to bed but, in the morning, I think we have some unfinished business to discuss."
Bodie had no idea what Ray was talking about. He remembered chasing after Malcolm and knocking him out, then Ray helping him back to the lounge and some conversation. What he couldn't, for the life of him, remember was what he'd said to Ray or Ray to him. He had the feeling he might have been terribly indiscreet, and he certainly wasn't up to coping with the results of that now--maybe never. Bed seemed to him to be a blessed invention. Whatever it was Ray wanted to talk to him about in the morning, he wouldn't worry about it until then.
The next morning, Bodie woke up to the feel of a warm body pressed up against him. It took him a little while to work out where he was and who it must be. When he had, he lay there, puzzled. Not that it wasn't nice to actually know how it felt--but even though he and Ray had often shared a bed, they'd never cuddled when they did so. They'd always carefully stayed on their own sides. 'Maybe Ray's dreaming he's with one of his birds and thinks I'm her. He's going to be very embarrassed when he finds out it's me.' He would have moved away from his partner in order to save him that embarrassment, but he was at the very edge of the bed and couldn't move any further without falling out. Since he couldn't do anything else, he decided to just lie there and enjoy it and memorize all the feelings so he could call them up at any time.
It wasn't long before Ray woke up. Always one to go for the direct approach, he leaned over and kissed Bodie. "Good morning, love. How's the head this morning?" When Bodie didn't answer right away, Doyle propped himself up on one elbow and studied his face. "That's sure a colorful eye you've got," he said. "Shall I kiss it and make it better?" And he very gently kissed around Bodie's eye.
Bodie, meanwhile, lay in a state of shock, totally unable to understand why his heretofore standoffish partner had suddenly decided to come on to him--not that he objected to anything Doyle was doing.
Ray drew back, looked at the expression on his partner's face and laughed. "You great twit," he said. "I knew you were out of it yesterday, but I didn't think you were completely gone. You don't remember what you said after you got knocked down, do you?"
Bodie shook his head numbly. He was still completely in the dark.
"You said, and I quote, 'I'm just fine, love, now that you're here.' You did mean it, didn't you?" Ray asked anxiously.
Bodie smiled. After all his soul-searching about the right time to tell Ray, and the right words to use, his subconscious had done it for him. "Yes, I meant it," he said. "I've meant it for a long time, now." He looped an arm around Ray's neck and pulled him down for a long kiss.
"That's good, 'cause so have I," Ray confessed when they finally had to break for air. "I've wanted you since we were first partnered," he went on. "I can't say just when it turned to love, but it was quite some time ago."
"Why didn't you say anything?" asked Bodie.
"I didn't think you could ever be interested in a man after your experiences in Africa," Doyle answered. "Why didn't you?"
"You had such a macho image," Bodie said, "that, until the episode with Kevin, I thought you were terminally straight, and I figured you'd deck me if I even hinted at how I felt. And, as for Africa, well, it wasn't all bad. I know it can be good with a man--with you, I bet it'd be great."
"Well, then," Doyle said, "why don't we give it a try and make up for lost time?" And he leaned down and gave Bodie another kiss.
"Why don't we?" Bodie agreed, a long time later. "It sounds like a great idea to me."
"Good," Ray said, throwing the covers back so he could look at Bodie and have free access to his body, "then lie back and enjoy this. I know I'm going to."
With that, Ray started planting small kisses on Bodie's face, being exceptionally gentle around his eye., When he got to Bodie's ear, he nibbled at the lobe and then plunged his tongue deep into the canal. Bodie shivered and moaned as he did it. His cock, which had been slowly growing as Ray kissed him, suddenly sprang fully erect.
Ray kissed down Bodie's neck to the hollow at the base of his throat. He sucked for a moment there, and teased him with his tongue, then moved down and suckled at the small bud of Bodie's nipple. Bodie cried out as his cock gave a jerk, and pressed Ray's head to his chest. As he continued to suckle, Ray reached out and gently pinched Bodie's other nipple. Bodie bucked as the sensations arrowed to his groin. He desperately needed pressure on his cock.
"Ray, please, touch me," he begged.
Doyle had planned to make this last, but he was almost as desperate as Bodie, now that he finally was able to touch him after wanting him so long. He rolled over on top of Bodie and started a rhythm that would bring them both to climax, plundering his mouth deeply at the same time. A few strokes was all it took, and they were both orgasming, almost simultaneously.
Ray collapsed on Bodie when it was over, breathing hard. It had been so marvelous--and so fast. He had thought his control was better than that--but, then, he'd never made love with Bodie before. Bodie was breathing just as hard as he was, Ray noticed. He looked at Bodie's face. It had a beatific expression on it. 'Guess he didn't mind it being so fast,' he thought. He didn't have enough energy to roll off Bodie, though he knew he should. 'Just a few more minutes. Anyway, he's not complaining.'
"That was wonderful," Bodie said, shortly, breaking the contented silence. He stroked his hand down Ray's back and palmed his arse.
Incredibly, Ray felt himself twitch. It'd been years since he'd been ready for another tumble that quickly. Maybe it was all in having the right partner. "I agree," he said. "Do that again."
"What, this?" asked Bodie, running his hand down Ray's back once more. This time he also ran a finger down Ray's crack and toyed with his anus.
"Yes," gasped Doyle as his cock firmed.
Bodie slid Ray off him, onto his back, and kissed him. His own cock was surprisingly hard also. He'd guessed it would be great with Ray--he just hadn't guessed how great it would be, or that he would respond as quickly. 'You'd think I was sixteen again,' he thought in passing. "How about this?" Bodie asked, as he leaned down and kissed the tip of Doyle's cock.
Doyle whimpered at the touch. "Oh, please," he said, thrusting upward.
Bodie took him in his mouth and sucked him, swirling his tongue around the hard shaft, fondling his balls at the same time. Doyle moved 'til he could reach Bodie's cock and reciprocate. Bodie's pubic hair was still damp with their last emissions, and the scent of it excited Doyle even more. He was afraid he wasn't going to last much longer this time than he had the time before. He couldn't help giving little moans as Bodie sucked him.
Bodie, also, found the scent of their previous loving to be exceptionally arousing. He wanted to come immediately, and yet he wanted it to last forever. Before he could decide which he wanted most, his body decided for him. He stiffened, then came in Ray's mouth, thrusting frantically for completion--nearly wiped out when it came.
Doyle gulped down everything Bodie gave him. He could never have enough of it--essence of Bodie. He managed to hold off his climax until Bodie was done. He wanted to savor every minute of this and not be distracted by his own orgasm. However, the minute Bodie was finished, he let go--thrusting into the warm mouth sucking him perfectly. He came with a cry, then fell back on the bed, not even able to move.
Bodie had had enough energy to continue to suck at Doyle, but only just. He remembered the texture from his previous experiences, but the taste was pure Doyle--ambrosia.
Somehow, after that, Bodie managed to change position so he could take Doyle in his arms. It was so sweet just to hold him. He lay, not quite asleep, for some time. Doyle was just as quiet. Finally, Bodie's muscles started to cramp and he stretched. He let go of Doyle long enough for him to stretch, too, then took him back into his arms. "I wanted to do so many things to you," he said softly. "And it was all over so quickly."
"So did I," Doyle replied. "But we have two whole days. I'm sure that in that amount of time we can get a lot of things done to one another."
"Only two days?" Bodie queried mournfully.
"No." Doyle grinned, realizing immediately what Bodie meant. "Two days just for starters. After that, for as long as you like," he said.
"I'd like forever," Bodie replied.
"Done," said Doyle.
-- THE END --
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