"What the 'ell d'you want?"

Bodie eyed the metal grill with disfavour. He really hated talking into the damn things.

"I want to come in, stupid."

The door buzzed in response and Bodie pushed it open. Heading straight for the stairs, he found Doyle's front door open and let himself in. The kitchen and living room were both deserted, although the stereo was blaring away.

"I'm in the bathroom," yelled Doyle. "You can come in, I'm decent."

"Ah, shame. What the hell are you doing in there?"

"What? Can't hear you, come here."

Bodie did as he was told and entering the bathroom began to repeat his question. "I said, what are you...." His eyes nearly popped out of his head as he took in the spectacle before him. "What the hell are you doing?" he squeaked.

"What does it look like? Bloody 'ell, I thought you were supposed to have highly developed powers of observation."

Bodie walked right into the small bathroom and peered over the edge of the bath. "Shouldn't you have taken them off before you washed 'em?" He flipped the toilet lid down and sat on it, then dipped his hand into the water. "It's cold," he announced with surprise.

"'Course it's cold, I'd end up with a blue bum and legs otherwise."

"You're gonna get pneumonia sitting in a cold bath. What on earth are you up to?" It was obvious to Ray that his partner really didn't know.

"I'm shrinking them."

"Pardon?"

"Me new jeans, they're too big so I'm shrinking them," he explained patiently.

"Why don t you take them back and get a pair that fit then?" Bodie thought it was a perfectly sensible question and failed to see why it should have caused his potty partner to dissolve into a fit of giggles.

"Oh, Bodie," he managed to gasp out between fits. "Oh my God, you're priceless." The bubbly laughter was infectious and even though he didn't know exactly what had set his partner off, Bodie found himself chuckling too.

"Y'know, now I think about it, I don't think I've ever seen you wearing a pair of denim jeans."

"Cords yeah, denim no," Bodie agreed.

"How come?"

Bodie just shrugged, he was beginning to feel slightly uncomfortable. The sight of his bare chested partner sitting in a bath wearing a pair of jeans that already looked tight enough to cause circulatory problems was doing strange things to him.

"I dunno, just never fancied wearing 'em I suppose. How long are you going to sit there then?"

In response Doyle arched up out of the water and grabbed a handful of material on his upper thigh. "Hmm, feels about right now. This water is bloody cold anyway and I've just about had enough." He leant forward and pulled the plug out, then stood up, running his hands across the taut, wet material covering his groin and buttocks. "Don't want them too tight, might damage the goods."

Bodie watched, amazed, as Doyle reached over, grabbed a towel and proceeded to pat his trousers dry. He knew that he must be missing the point of the exercise, and didn't really want to admit to his ignorance, but he was saved when Doyle correctly interpreted his somewhat bemused expression.

"The water makes them shrink to fit me, my body."

"That's how you get them so tight. Christ, I thought you just never got the right size. Ouch!" he yelled, as Doyle belted him with the rolled up towel.

"What are you doing here anyway? You made me drip all the way down the hall to that bloody intercom. Thought you had a date with wassername, Yvonne?"

"Karen," Bodie corrected. "And no I don't. Wondered if you wanted to come out for a drink, that's all."

"What happened to Yvonne?"

"Haven't seen her for ages, not since I had to dump her at Marble Arch when Cowley called an A7 alert." Bodie really was not interested in what happened in the past, he was too busy watching his partner with increasing amazement when, having patted the worst of the water from his jeans Doyle padded through to the bedroom where he pulled out one of those hot air circulator fans and turned it on. Standing over it Doyle began turning and twisting to get the full benefit of the hot air. "Yeah, okay, but it'll take me about half an hour before I'll be ready."

"Pardon?" Busy watching his partner's antics, Bodie had forgotten his own question.

"I've got to get the fabric nearly dry before I can take them off, otherwise they won't fit properly."

Lifting the heater off the floor, Doyle placed it on the bedside cabinet and tilted it at an angle so the hot air was directed upwards. Bodie watched, entranced, as Doyle turned his back to the heater and ran his hands over his buttocks, stroking the wet material. As his hands moved over his body, totally unaware of the effect he was having on his partner, Doyle closed his eyes and threw his head back.

"Oh, that feels good. I feel as if I've gone blue with cold anyway - without any help from the dye in these damn things." He turned and presented his groin to the stream of hot air.

Bodie looked away. He went to sit down on the edge of the bed, but, as his own trousers were getting uncomfortably tight, changed his mind, and decided to get out before his predicament became too obvious.

"I'll go and put the kettle on; see you in the other room when you've finished toasting your balls." He escaped quickly before Doyle could come back with one of his famous cutting remarks.

In the kitchen, Bodie was relieved to feel himself subside to normal proportions. As he fussed around with the cups and hunted in the larder and fridge for something to eat, he thought about his unprecedented arousal. Never, before today, had his partner caused him to respond sexually and he had seen Doyle in just about every mood going; happy, mad, pissed, bored, depressed and once, on a double date some months back, he had even seen him in action with some girl. Thinking about that evening caused a tingling sensation which centred in his groin. Ray and his girl were supposed to have made use of the bedroom, leaving himself and Yvonne the living room, but things had escalated quicker than expected. Before they knew what was happening, they were all at it like it was going out of fashion on the living room floor. Bodie sighed as he recalled the memories of that evening, it had certainly been 'different.'

Hearing a voice swearing and muttering obscenities in the bedroom, Bodie left the cups in the living room and went to see what was happening. As he entered the bedroom Doyle was tugging at his fly. He looked up and saw Bodie.

"Poxy zip's got stuck, can't shift it at all." Bodie watched the slender fingers pulling ineffectively at the heavy duty zip. Doyle swore again, louder this time, his patience obviously wearing thin. "I can't see what's wrong. Is the zip broken or is there a thread caught in it?" he asked, turning to Bodie.

Hoping desperately that the arousal of a few minutes ago was not going to be repeated, Bodie crouched down and pushed the covering flap of fabric back from the zip and looked closely.

"Can't see anything caught up in it and the teeth look even, maybe there's something caught from inside," Bodie said hoarsely, removing his face and fingers from Doyle's groin. The jeans were so tight that Bodie could see the clear definition of Doyle's sex as it rested on his left thigh.

Doyle thrust his hand down the front of his jeans, feeling the zip from the inside. As Bodie saw the movement of the fingers inside the tight jeans he almost choked.

"Christ, Bodie. I can't shift the sodding thing. Here - you have a go." He pushed his groin towards his partner.

Taking a deep breath, Bodie gripped the waistband with one hand and held tightly to the zipper tab with the other. He pulled and jerked, trying to force the zip down. "It's no good. They're so bloody tight I can't get a proper grip on the material."

"Maybe if I lie down on the bed."

Oh, terrific, thought Bodie. That's all I need.

"Now try," offered the prone Doyle. Bodie rose to the challenge and grabbed again at the tab and waistband. Now that Doyle was flat on his back there did seem to be a bit more room to move, and Bodie slid his fingers inside trying to feel the underside of the zip.

"You haven't got any pants on!" he accused. Doyle just closed his eyes in resignation.

"How often do you get in the bath with your pants on?"

"About as often as I do with my trousers - which I don't."

"Just concentrate on the fucking zip, Bodie."

"It's no good, Ray. Got any scissors?" Bodie was not prepared for the reaction his seemingly good idea caused.

"Scissors! You're not cutting me out. I paid bloody good money for these things, twenty-five quid, and you're not cutting them up just so you can get down the pub a bit quicker."

"Twenty-five quid! For that money I would have thought you could have got a pair that fitted properly."

"Just forget the scissors, Bodie, and pull, wiggle it about - do something," he ordered. Bodie set about tugging and jiggling the zipper. His efforts were met with a slight success as the tab slipped down about half an inch.

"Damn thing's jammed again," Bodie muttered. Two pairs of hands scrabbled around the zip, as they got in each other's way. Bodie slapped his partner's hands away.

"Look, mate, do you want me to get this down or not? Get your fingers out of the way."

"They are my trousers," Doyle protested.

Bodie wriggled and tugged at the zip and was rewarded by another small half inch slip before it jammed up again. Getting down on his knees beside the bed he examined the zip close up, trying desperately to ignore the fact that his chin was almost resting on Doyle's sex as it lay, recumbent, on his leg.

"Can't see anything wrong with it, maybe it's a faulty catch or something. I think that's as far down as it's going to go. Can you slip them off over your hips?"

Doyle clambered up from the bed and tried to peel the damp jeans off. After five minutes of tugging and pulling all he achieved was a series of red marks across his hips.

"It's no good, the zip's got to move down at least another couple of inches before this'll work."

"That zip is not going to budge, Ray. You're going to have to cut yourself out of em."

"As much as I hate to agree with you, you're right." After staring thoughtfully at the firmly lodged, much cursed zip, Doyle looked around his bedroom, then began to rummage around in his wardrobe, delving into the boxes and bags that always seemed to collect there. "I'm sure it's here somewhere, had it for years - sure I haven't chucked it out." A small pile of rejected boxes soon built up behind him, then, "Eureka, knew I still had it." He proudly held up his trophy to show Bodie, who looked at it with a puzzled expression.

"What the hell is it?"

"A housewife." Doyle was amazed at Bodie's ignorance.

"A what?"

Bodie looked at it closely; as Doyle was waving it under his nose he really didn't have much choice. It looked for all the world like a rag doll, a golliwog rag doll. The head had little brass earrings, from which hung several safety pins. Its body was made up of several layers of gaudy, bright material in the shape of tiered skirts, and the long strings of black felt which made up the legs each had a cotton reel knotted onto the end. Doyle was tugging at a bright red plastic thing that seemed to be some kind of nose decoration.

"A housewife?"

"Yeah, my mum gave it to me years ago when I first left home. Look," he lifted up the doll's skirts and revealed a row of shiny sewing needles. "Everything a self-reliant bachelor needs, needles, thread and - " he finally managed to get the red stick out of the doll's nose, "a stitchpicker!"

Bodie took the stitchpicker and removed the cap, looking warily at the vicious hook that was revealed. "What are you going to do with this then?"

"I'm not going to be doing anything, mate. You're going to undo the stitches holding the zip in place for me." A note of warning crept into Doyle's voice as he continued with his instructions. "Go careful, then I can get someone to put another zip in for me later. Don't rip the material for God's sake, and watch that point, it's bloody sharp." Having issued his orders, Doyle lay back down on the bed and with a nod of his head indicated that Bodie could proceed.

A few minutes of carefully cutting the tight stitches without actually touching Doyle caused Bodie's wrists and arms to ache, so, trying to ignore the warm damp body he gave in and leant his forearms on Doyle's lower body and forced himself to concentrate on the job in hand.

Head propped up on a pillow, with his hands behind his head, Doyle looked down at Bodie's busily working fingers.

"Keep still you fool or I'll stick it in you," Bodie snapped.

Doyle tried to keep still, but it was getting more difficult by the second or the stitch. Each time Bodie cut a stitch he exerted a small amount of pressure with the heel of his hand - which was resting in what was about to become a very embarrassing position. It felt quite nice really; the warmth of Bodie's hands and arms was pleasant in comparison to the chilly damp denim. Another couple of stitches were cut away. Doyle looked up at the ceiling. Over in the corner he saw a cobweb - a few more stitches were gone forever - he really must do some spring cleaning. Another stitch - I wonder how long that cobweb's been there, can't see the spider, he thought, as another stitch went.

"Haven't you finished yet?" he asked fearfully, half-afraid that Bodie might say yes.

Bodie's concentration on the stitches was so intense that he had not noticed how far down he had got. He parted the material, exposing a few curls of body hair. "Dunno, try and get them off now," he croaked, averting his eyes. He heard rather than saw Doyle struggling to get out of his trousers, then the heaving body sagged back onto the bed with a sigh of defeat.

"Bloody things have shrunk too much. You're going to have to cut the stitches all the way down."

Oh God.

"Okay."

Bodie rested his arms and took up position again, moving his hand around to get it comfortable. Somehow his hand just couldn't find its comfortable resting place. He felt the pulse under his hand, heard the hiss of indrawn breath and looked up. Doyle had his eyes shut. There was another pulse beat, stronger this time, and he looked back down at the growing mound under his hand. Serves the little bugger right, he thought, and cheerfully cut another couple of stitches, snatching at the threads with more force than was strictly necessary. Bodie was beginning to enjoy himself, things were definitely happening beneath the wet fabric. There was only about another inch and a half to go, and he took his time, savouring each flick of his wrist and answering pulse from Doyle's rapidly swelling sex.

"Bodie, you're doing that on purpose aren't you?" came a softly accusing voice.

"Just getting me own back, sunshine."

"Your own back?" puzzled Doyle.

"Yeah, standing in front of that damn heater stroking your bum and balls like some flipping pricktease," said Bodie ruefully.

A throaty chuckle followed Bodie's embarrassed admission. "Got you going did I?"

"Your arse ought to carry a government health warning."

"I suppose that's why you're always so close behind me, keeping it safe."

To his absolute horror, Bodie felt a flush start to creep up over his face. God, had he been that obvious!

"Yeah, well, someone's got to haven't they. Cummon, shift yourself and get those jeans off before the pub runs out of beer." Bodie sat on the floor beside the bed and replaced the cap on the stitchpicker. He saw the flush creep over Doyle's face.

"What's up?" he enquired, causing Doyle to wince at the unintentional pun.

"Bodie, for heaven's sake. You could at least have the decency to turn your back."

At last Bodie realised the source of Doyle's embarrassment. "We could always forget the pub and play a game of cards," he suggested.

"Cards?"

"Yeah, how about Snap!" Bodie lowered his eyes to his own groin and Doyle finally caught up with the sudden turn of conversation.

"Snap." He chuckled. "Blimey, a right pair we make. You get turned on watching me touch myself and I get all hot and bothered every time you touch me."

Bodie's ears pricked up at that. "Every time?"

Doyle didn't answer, he just fixed Bodie with a clear, wide-eyed stare and smiled. Returning the smile, Bodie ran a single finger along the length of Doyle's trapped sex, causing the green eyes to close and the smiling mouth to open in a gasp.

"Every time, huh?" Bodie repeated again softly. "What do you want to do now? Pub's still open if you fancy a beer."

Doyle shook his head.

"Do you want to get those wet jeans off?"

Doyle nodded.

"Say please." Bodie ran his open hand along the length of the hard, trapped shaft. Doyle arched up, pushing himself into the teasing hand that promised so much. "Say please," Bodie repeated.

"Pleeasee," came a hissing whisper through clenched teeth.

Bodie slid one hand beneath the damp fabric and touched the root of Doyle's cock, circling it with strong fingers, still touching the hot length through the material with his other hand, pressing over the tip with his fingertips. "Say please, nicely."

"Bodie!"

"Cummon, you're not usually so tongue-tied. Say please, nicely."

"Please nicely," Doyle croaked, "Please very nicely Bodie PLEASE!" His voice rose to a whispered scream as Bodie's hands finally released him from the damp confines of his jeans. Doyle lifted his hips and pushed his jeans down, trying desperately to rid himself of the clinging, restricting cloth. He moaned in disappointment as Bodie released him to help peel off the trousers, but the pleasure-giving hands soon returned.

Kneeling beside the bed, fully clothed, his own aching hardness trapped inside his clothes, Bodie leant over his partner's prone body and touched a brown nipple with the tip of his tongue. Doyle jumped as if he had been electrocuted and even though the touch was not returned, Bodie felt his own nipples stiffen in unison with the one under his busily working tongue. He pressed his erection against the edge of the mattress, wishing, wanting Doyle to touch him, wanting to free himself from his own clothes, but not wanting to stop touching the vibrant body that was shuddering so deliciously beneath his hands and tongue. At last Doyle found the presence of mind to move; one hand held Bodie's head in place as it hovered over his nipple, the other tightened around the hand that was moving so beautifully over his about to explode cock. He guided Bodie's hand in a hard stroking motion, once, twice and his body arched up off the bed, muscles taut, face frozen in a grimace of wonder, fear, delight, and lust as he came, jetting out over their entwined hands. As his body relaxed back onto the bed, Doyle turned his head towards Bodie, his lips seeking that final caress.

Bodie lifted his head and placed soft butterfly kisses on the closed eyes,over the flushed cheeks and finally on the slightly parted lips, the quality and tenderness of the kisses telling Doyle what he wanted to know.

"I knew it would be worth waiting for," he whispered, as Bodie finally released his mouth.

"Some people are still waiting," Bodie said pointedly.

Doyle opened his eyes and saw the banked down need that was blazing in the cloudy eyes above him. He sat upright and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, pushing the kneeling figure away a little. Not trusting his legs to hold him up just yet, he slid to his own knees, beside Bodie.

"Can't have that, can we?" he whispered, his mouth brushing against Bodie's as he spoke. Their lips provided the only point of physical contact between them, the light pressure and rush of soft breath sending powerful waves of desire coursing through Bodie.

Doyle slid the leather jacket off Bodie's shoulders and down his arms and dropped it to one side, his eyes never breaking contact with Bodie's. With light, quick fingers he disposed of Bodie's tie and undid shirt buttons and cuffs, careful not to touch the smooth skin beneath the crisp cotton. Mesmerized by Doyle's eyes, Bodie allowed himself to be undressed, not moving even as Doyle undid the belt buckle and eased his trouser zip down. He felt warm hands cup his elbows and push him upwards, and obeying the instructions the silent eyes were giving him he rose to his feet. As he stood up Doyle held on to the waistband of his trousers and slid them down, slipping them off over Bodie's feet as his partner obligingly lifted each foot in turn, then tugging off shoes and socks.

Clad only in his briefs, Bodie looked down at the figure kneeling at his feet, waiting - wanting so badly to be touched, but it seemed as if Doyle was content to just look, his eyes feasting on the body before him. He ran a cool hand up the back of Bodie's leg, the silky fine hairs tickling his fingers.

"I knew it would be good with you," he whispered, and leant forward to place a kiss on each of Bodie's thighs, causing Bodie to gasp as soft hair brushed against his overheated body. "Ever since that night you spent here with Yvonne. I wanted to push her away, kick her out. Kick them both out." As he spoke, Doyle moved up, licking and kissing the salty flesh, his hands sliding up and over the firm buttocks, squeezing and mounding them through the thin fabric. "When I saw you touching her I felt ill. I wanted it to be me, I didn't want anyone else to touch you or me. I had to pretend that Caroline was you; as I fucked her I was listening to you, pretending she was you."

Listening to the soft whispers that came between light kisses, Bodie finally allowed himself to remember exactly why that night had been so good. As he had made love to Yvonne he had been watching Doyle in action with his girl, as they had rolled about the floor. Bodie remembered the echoes of pleasure that had shot through him as he had accidentally brushed against Doyle's bare skin. He'd known Doyle was watching him and had wanted to share his enjoyment with him.

At last, Doyle moved his fingers to the waist of his briefs and pulled them down, over his hips and legs, his trapped cock springing free, jutting out, searching for and inviting contact.

"Ray - please," begged Bodie hoarsely. He could feel Doyle's breath on the head of his engorged sex, and it felt good - so cool, wonderful.

"Bodie, I want to make it so good for you." Doyle blew gently onto the shiny head of Bodie's cock. "So good for you." His hands pulled at the backs of Bodie's legs, pulling him closer, and his tongue flicked out and swathed the rosy head, tasting, teasing and promising. "So good, because I love you, I love you so much."

Bodie nearly screamed as Doyle finally took him into his mouth, taking all of him from tip to root, sucking hard. Already driven to the edge by the soft touches and whispered words, Bodie fell over into the void, erupting into the accepting mouth, gushing out, forcing his life essence into the welcoming throat, his fingers somehow entangling themselves in the silky curls, holding Doyle there.

Bodie felt the strength flowing out of his body and he slowly crumpled and fell, barely managing to fall onto the bed rather than the floor. Lying on the bed, he could still feel Doyle sucking and licking at his softening cock, and he tugged at the curls that were still tangled around his fingers. Doyle lifted his head; the eyes that looked up at him were open - but guarded, Doyle had already said that he loved him, admitted that he had wanted this for some time - now he was waiting.

"I knew you were watching me that night," Bodie began. "I wanted to make it special, not for me or her - but for you. I never thought about why, I think I was scared what the answer might be." Bodie pulled Doyle up onto the bed and kissed him, firmly and thoroughly before drawing back to say the words he knew Doyle needed to hear.

"I love you, too."

That was all Doyle wanted to know. He threw his arms around his partner, hugging and kissing him, giving all the love he had stored up in secret over the past few months.

Together, as they basked in the afterglow, they explored each others' bodies, touching, stroking, seeking out ticklish or sensitive areas, and learning all they could about each other, discovering previously unnoticed scars, moles and freckles.

After a time though, they were content to lie close, facing each other across the pillow, bodies close, not quite touching, only linked by their entwined fingers and hands.

"Why didn't you say something?" Bodie wanted to know.

"Why didn't you?" countered Doyle.

Bodie lifted their hands to his mouth and kissed the tips of Doyle's fingers. "I wasn't sure how you'd feel, wasn't really sure how I felt."

"Same with me. It would probably have taken us forever if you hadn't come over tonight."

"More likely it would never have happened at all if your jeans hadn't jammed up on you."

"That stitchpicker! Christ, Bodie, it felt wonderful every time you cut a stitch."

"You mean to tell me you weren't doing all that prancing around, touching yourself up in front of the heater for my benefit?"

"No!" Doyle was a picture of outraged innocence. "I'd been sitting in a cold bath for nearly half an hour before you came calling. All I was interested in was warming myself up, I never gave it a thought that it might be a turn on for you."

"Are you warm enough now?" Bodie asked, running his hand along Doyle's arm.

"Mmm. Next time I visit my mum I'll have to thank her for my housewife; she always said it would prove useful one day." He snuggled up to Bodie and rested his head on his shoulder, chuckling to himself. "I don t suppose this was what she had in mind though!"

-- THE END -