The room was very quiet, the only light coming from a dim, forty watt bulb beneath the cracked, brown shade of a reading lamp in one corner. Pulled up close to it was a decrepit armchair in which Bodie half sat, half lay along his spine, a magazine held at an unnatural angle to catch what little light there was. Doyle was curled up on an equally sagging sofa, trying to snatch some sleep.

Waiting for action was always incredibly tedious and he could not blame Bodie for seeking refuge even in the limited reading matter the dingy basement flat provided - he'd been leafing through some of the pornographic magazines himself in desperation but they had not been sufficiently gripping to overcome the effect of gravity upon his eyelids - sleep though was proving oddly elusive and he was more wide awake now than he had been while he was actually reading. He tried slow, silent, deep breathing.

A tiny sound broke the silence, a kind of wheezing grunt instantly stifled.

Doyle quirked an eyebrow in silent amusement but did not open his eyes.

After a moment the sound came again and Doyle slowly became conscious of the fact that Bodie was breathing very, very heavily over there and that he had not heard the rustle of turning pages for some time.

Wondering what his partner had found in his magazine that had been lacking in Doyle's, he opened a sleepy eye and twisted his head to see.

The lamp illuminated very little of the room but it did cast enough light on the lower half of the armchair's occupant for Doyle to catch an eyeballfull of what was going on.

Maybe if Bodie had been wearing dark, concealing trousers it would not be quite so obvious but he wasn't, they were a light, revealing fawn and declared quite openly to the interested observer that their owner was busy acquiring a distinct erection.

As Doyle watched, Bodie stirred, obviously in minor discomfort from the restriction of his burgeoning sex, and his hand left its grip on the magazine to adjust himself more comfortably inside the cloth. The hand also lingered over its task; clearly the pressure on aching flesh was pleasant for the fingers rubbed once, twice, up and down the swelling before they retreated once more.

Doyle's eyebrows disentangled themselves from his hairline and a smile quirked the corner of his mouth. It must be bloody good, what Bodie was reading; he'd have a look at it himself later on, see if it had the same effect on him - but not while Bodie was around of course. He stifled a snigger, wondering what Bodie would say if he knew two, intrigued green eyes were busy studying him.

Probably wouldn't bother him overmuch though: Bodie wasn't the sort to admit to being disconcerted by anything and he'd almost certainly just eye Doyle up and down out of those disdainful eyes and act as though getting a hard on was a privilege reserved for the Bodies of the world, the deserving, macho few.

All the same, that was some hard on and Doyle eyed it with a respect bordering on approval, fascinated despite himself.

Bodie stirred again restlessly, first pressing his thighs together then lifting his hips from their position on the very edge of the ancient upholstery. It was an extraordinarily erotic movement and Doyle found himself unexpectedly swallowing down a sudden pang of... interest? In Bodie?

It was a new idea and Doyle considered it without fear. As a onetime, would-be artist, those nudes he'd painted that so intrigued his colleagues had been male as well as female (something that had never seemed to occur to their one-track minds) and he'd long realised that an attractive male was fully as aesthetically pleasing as a female - he'd noted Bodie as being exceptionally good-looking right from the start, and that he was not affected about it either; in fact it was one of his most attractive traits that he had no personal vanity of any sort and indeed sometimes seemed less sure of physical attraction than Doyle himself.

Now Doyle was suddenly looking at his partner with new and rather astonished eyes - and finding him bloody good to look at too.

Unexpectedly, the strained cloth moved as the hidden sex beneath it pulsed strongly - twice.

Doyle swallowed, harder this time.

Christ, he was getting turned on himself just watching this. Thank god Bodie couldn't see him eyeing his crotch like some sex-starved nympho; just as well he'd got that magazine held well up in front of his face - but he'd like to see Bodie's expression all the same, watch those heavy-lidded eyes droop even further with arousal, the mouth soften from arrogance into hunger.

Jesus, but he was getting horny: and his neck was beginning to ache with the unnatural pose he'd held for so long now - sooner or later he'd have to move and that would spoil everything...

He made himself lie still, a crazy, impossible notion creeping into his head with such stealth that it was there, fully-fledged and demanding action before he'd had time to notice its arrival.

He couldn't do that!

Could he?

To Bodie?

Well, certainly not to anyone else!

But maybe with Bodie, yes.

The trousers moved again and Doyle nearly gave himself away with a squeak of disbelief as Bodie's hand moved down again, covering the swollen area, rubbing it restlessly.

He wasn't going to do it, not here, not now!

Doyle licked dry lips, knowing he wanted Bodie to do it, to open his trousers and free that constricted, heated flesh and bring himself to a climax while Doyle watched from the shadows beyond the pool of light.

But the hand gave a last, lingering caress with the powerful fingers, a caress that looked fully as regretful as Doyle felt, and retreated once again.

More turned on than he'd ever been, Doyle had moved before he'd made a conscious decision, sitting up as silently as he could and swinging his feet to the thread-bare carpet.

Across the room a magazine moved at nearly light-speed, dropping to cover Bodie's lap. Startled blue eyes looked his way.

Doyle got up and crossed the room in two strides, grabbing at Bodie's lower legs to stop him shifting upright. He dropped to his knees on the floor beside the chair.

"Stay there," he instructed hoarsely.

"What?"

Bodie croaked out the word, puzzled, apprehensive, self-conscious and panicked all at once... he also looked delectably flushed and rosy about the ears and the thrusting mouth was softened, the lips parted.

Doyle picked the magazine off its beginning to soften resting place and laid one hand on Bodie while the other went to the waistband of his trousers.

"Ray!" A gasp, sharp and hard, and an ineffectual hand lifting to push him away.

"Let me, Bodie."

He met the blue eyes, his own wide and rather solemn.

"Let me do it for you."

And he slid the zip down, peeled back the material and thrust one finger into the opening of Bodie's pants.

He was hot, hardening again almost instantaneously while Doyle rubbed gently at him through soft, stretch cotton, revelling in the feel of him.

"Ray - don't!" This time it was a pleasured, aching groan and Doyle - quite rightly - ignored the words, concentrating on the prize he had won, his own breathing becoming erratic.

It was no more than a few seconds before his determination to take Bodie by storm brought him the reward of a gentle push against his hand, a pleading nudge for harder, more immediate contact.

His own heart hammering against his ribs he said harshly, "Shift up," and as Bodie cooperatively lifted his hips he slid his trousers and pants down just a little, far enough to let the erect organ push free of its prison.

Doyle's hand reached for and took it, encasing it in his eager palm.

Bodie moaned harshly, thrust against him.

"Ray..."

"It's all right, Bodie. Let me. Want to make you feel good."

Doyle explored the velvet-over-heat feel of his partner, finding Bodie's genitals pleasing both to eye and hand. His belly skin was pale, almost white in contrast to the dark tangle of curls at his groin; his balls were heavy, demanding Doyle's attention and he cupped them gently with his other hand, making Bodie squirm and gasp out a soft obscenity above him.

He worked with his hands for a while, pleasuring his friend, watching the rosy cock darken as Bodie's urgency mounted and the soft tip grew moist; then he bent his head, holding the cock with one hand and guiding it to his mouth.

Hands tangled in his hair, gripping him, holding him there. Bodie was moving faster and faster and Doyle rode with him, holding on to the bobbing cock with mouth and hand while his other hand roamed freely between Bodie's parted thighs, driving him to climax.

As warm, salty liquid filled his mouth he swallowed, curious to experience this, to know all there was to know about Bodie.

Incoherent cries died away, painfully gripping fingers slackened; Doyle let the softening cock slip from his mouth with a last, valedictory lick and laid his head on the bared thigh feeling oddly at peace.

After a while Bodie moved beneath him, touching his head tentatively.

"Ray, you OK?"

"Course. How about you?"

"What d'you think? Bloody hell, mate, you leapt on me like... like..." Bodie faltered into awed silence.

Doyle looked up, finding a soft welcome in the blue eyes. He smiled back, a trace of smugness on his face.

"You looked like you could use some loving," he explained.

"I sure as hell got it too." Bodie looked and sounded shaken but not as though he had any objections to raise for the moment. "I thought you were asleep, mate."

"Couldn't." Doyle turned himself to sit down, one arm across the bunched garments trapping Bodie's knees.

"So what were you reading then that got you all excited?" he demanded softly, looking up at Bodie.

To his surprise, that young man looked away, and the rosy, sexual flush darkened.

"Oh, yes?" Doyle said, definitely intrigued by now.

He gazed around, finding the magazine face down on the floor and picked it up.

Bodie made a grab at it, missed, tried to get up but failed being held too tightly by his lowered pants to be able to move with his usual fluidity.

Doyle held the book behind his back.

"Now, you're not going to get all coy, are you?" he asked in mock admonishment. "Not after what I just did, dumbhead."

"I'd rather you didn't look. Please, Ray."

Genuinely surprised this time, Doyle looked at him properly and saw a look of silent misery beneath the appeal in those unbelievable eyes, a look he had never seen before on his friend.

His impulse to tease died immediately and he knelt up to lean forward, over the arm of the chair, so that he could touch the side of Bodie's face in gentle reassurance.

"Don't look like that, sunshine. What's up?"

After a moment of silence he added unhappily, "I shouldn't have done it, should I? I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It isn't that." Bodie met his gaze a little shyly. "I never had a better blow job before."

Doyle managed a grin. "Not bad for a beginner, was it?"

"Bloody marvellous." Bodie said quietly. "Why did you do it?"

"Told you, you looked like you needed it."

"Is that all?"

Doyle looked away then back again, his mouth quivering into a smile.

"Actually, I was getting turned on looking at you," he confessed. "I didn't stop to think - just jumped you. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Told you - it was nice."

Doyle bent forward further, cupped Bodie's chin with his hands and turned his face and then with great deliberation, kissed him: not a demanding kiss, just a gentle touch of parted lips, but he gave him his tongue, licking at Bodie's mouth in an unspoken plea.

It was answered with a breathless gasp and a wet, warm reply slid against him, stroking him exquisitely.

They kissed for several minutes, mouths working sensuously though not passionately, but by the time they broke apart Doyle was hot and hard and wanting.

"Bodie!"

He spoke the name, lips still touching the long mouth.

"Mmmm?"

Bodie's mouth was relaxed, his tone sleepy.

"Do it for me, Bodie. I want it so bad."

Bodie pulled back, seeing the truth of it in the wide eyes, the quickened breathing. He came slowly out of the chair, ignoring his still half discarded clothing and pushed Doyle gently down onto the dingy carpet where he brought him to a slow, perfect climax.

When Doyle opened his eyes again, Bodie was smiling down, the unhappiness seemingly gone from his expression.

"What were you looking at in that magazine?" Doyle demanded, never one to give up.

Bodie sighed, then reaching for it he opened it up. "Have a look if you must," he said, resigned.

It was a double page spread, two male bodies closely entwined, one skinny, one more solidly built, both heads - one dark, one curly brown - were turned away from the camera. At a quick look it could just have been the two of them.

Doyle's own mouth opened appreciatively, in no doubt as to the cause of Bodie's former embarrassment.

"Having a little fantasy, were you?" he demanded, curiosity warring with amusement and a growing sense of delight.

"Yeah." Bodie was relaxed now, lying back with arms behind his head, careless of his half naked state.

"What about?"

"What d'you think? You, of course."

"Or us?" Doyle suggested slyly.

"Mmmm," Bodie agreed, his smile growing.

"Do I turn you on?"

"Something chronic," Bodie nodded ruefully.

Doyle's smile widened. "Just as well it was me you were thinking about, seeing how you got me going back there."

Bodie was just going to reply when the r/t crackled to life, startling them both, and Cowley's voice issued a barrage of orders, all to be obeyed at double speed.

Frantically hauling up zips and pulling down shirts the two agents hurtled up the stone steps to street level, both uncomfortably aware how close they had come to getting literally caught with their trousers down.

"Next time," Bodie carolled happily as he swing past Doyle on their way through the smashed in door, "we'll have to be a lot more careful."

"Next time?" Doyle froze, watching the back door as Bodie sped past him into the corridor.

"Yeah," Bodie called firmly, eyes on the stairs, gun steady. "Next time!"

"OK." Doyle agreed. It had been too good to be dismissed, aroused too much in both of them to leave it as a one-off frolic, a one-night stand.

There would be a next time.

-- THE END --