It was strange the way it happened really, and what it turned into was even stranger, but there could be no going back, not now, although Doyle wished sometimes that they could.

It had started on a long stakeout and they were going stir crazy. It had been eight days. Doyle thought that he was going to go completely insane if he didn't get some release and soon. In all the time they had been partners and friends, no matter what op they had been on they had always been able to close the bathroom door on one another and use their right hands to do the business; this however was different, there was no bathroom.

This 'salubrious' guesthouse had a shared bathroom and the house was full. Every time either one of them was in said bathroom for more than five seconds they had one of the other guests banging on the door looking to get in, so the atmosphere was not conducive to a slow or even quick romance with yourself.

He and Bodie were sharing a rather shabby room on the first floor with twin beds scarcely twelve inches apart, a large window and really not much else. Certainly in the past two days Doyle had noticed that his usually very patient partner was becoming a bear with a sore head. The least thing he did seemed to set Bodie off on some rant or complaint. As for himself, well, he was on rare form. A sarky bastard at the best of times, he was close to becoming a raving lunatic if he had to stay here much longer. He knew they both needed to take the edge off, but they were stuck between a rock and a hard place, with no sign of a break. And so he was shocked to say the least when it was his partner who brought it out into the open.

They were lying on the beds after having had dinner. It was late. They had been relieved by the other agents at around eight o'clock and so here they were in bed at half past ten simply because there was nothing else to do. They were of the opinion that the sooner they slept the sooner the next day would come and the closer they would be to freedom. From the other bed Bodie spoke up.

"This is getting beyond a joke, Ray. I know you know exactly what I mean so I'm not going to go into detail, suffice to say that it is a situation that needs rectifying and so if you are agreeable -- bloody hell, even if you're not agreeable -- I am going to do something about this. So you can bury your head under your pillow or you can take your own situation in hand."

It was one of the longest speeches Bodie had ever given and Doyle was both amazed he had said it and proud of him for having the balls to. He replied,

"Fine by me, Bodie."

It was probably the shortest speech Doyle had ever given but it was to the point and he heard Bodie release a breath he had obviously been holding while waiting for an answer. So they both lay on their beds in their room in the dark and waited for inspiration. For Doyle it wasn't long coming.

Bodie's breath was becoming slightly louder and images of what he might be doing, under the covers, came unbidden into Doyle's mind and had a surprisingly physical effect on him. He never thought about why until later, but he was glad. His cock was hardening and lengthening as he listened to Bodie less than a foot away on the other bed and he began to stroke his cock, unconsciously matching his breathing and movements to Bodie's.

It wasn't long before they had both reached the peak and came almost at the same time, their panting filling the otherwise quiet room as they calmed down. It was only then that Doyle registered the ridiculousness of the situation. He and his partner had wanked within spitting distance of each other. He could have reached out and touched Bodie had he wanted to, and going by how turned-on he had become listening to his partner getting himself off, nothing would have surprised him. Doyle put it down to a case of blue balls and frustration.

It was no surprise to him then that two such very highly sexed men as himself and Bodie would repeat this strange ritual the next night, and then the next. It was on the third night that things became a little wilder, to say the least.

He was listening to Bodie again, getting more and more turned on by the minute, his eyes closed in concentration, when he remembered that he hadn't turned off the incredibly dim lamp by his bed. He opened his eyes and reached out with his left hand -- his right was busy -- and noticed that Bodie had turned to his side and was looking at him while pumping himself under the covers. Doyle left the lamp on and shifting slightly on the bed returned his partner's gaze. The blue eyes he knew so well were black with lust. Doyle had thought he was hard before, but his cock told him otherwise when it became impossibly harder faced with the incredibly erotic image of Bodie staring at him. That night they finished themselves, eyes locked, making the normality of a wank a new and exciting sexual experience.

It was funny, Doyle remembered thinking, that they never mentioned their nocturnal routine in the harsh light of day. They exchanged knowing looks at various times throughout the day, but never a word betrayed their secret.

The fourth night was when Bodie crossed that one foot of no man's land and climbed into bed beside Doyle -- and Doyle welcomed him.

It didn't take long. They lay twined together, rubbing their hard shafts against each other, rutting in the narrow bed until they came, their cum mingling against their bellies. Afterwards, Bodie got up, fished his towel from his bag and wiped Doyle and then himself clean before getting back into his own bed.

"Goodnight, Ray," was all he said, and Doyle found himself unable to say anything except a soft goodnight to his partner.

The op was over two days later and Doyle and Bodie were once again involved in a firefight at the finish. They came out of it unscathed this time, but it had been close and as they returned to their usual routine of work and home; the change in their relationship was not discussed or analysed and for the most part things returned to normal.

Doyle was not happy however. Sometimes he thought about himself and Bodie and what they had done during the long nights on the stakeout and he found he wanted it to happen again. The problem was how to initiate it? He didn't think he could talk to Bodie about it, he didn't know how to broach the subject. All he knew was that he wanted Bodie again. He wanted more.

He needn't have worried. Two months after the end of the operation they were sitting on the sofa in Bodie's flat watching the match, drinking some beer. They were sitting close together; Bodie's arm was stretched across the back of the sofa, when Doyle felt Bodie's hand playing with his hair. That simple touch aroused him more than he thought possible and alarmed by his reaction he decided to confront Bodie before this went any further.

"What are you doing, Bodie?" His voice was as calm as he could make it.

"Is it bothering you?" was Bodie's only reply.

"No, it's not, but why are you doing it?" he insisted, turning to face Bodie, determined to know.

"Come on, Doyle. Tell me you don't want this and I'll stop." Bodie raised one eyebrow, daring Doyle to stop him.

But Doyle did want this, had wanted this for the past two months, and his body's reaction, which had not gone unnoticed by his partner, left him no room to lie. Bodie closed the gap between them, but Doyle was wholly unprepared for his next move.

Bodie kissed him.

It was a soft and gentle exploration, and Doyle found himself opening up to the sensations, responding with fervour to Bodie's ministrations, as he had all those nights in the stakeout, the only difference was that in all those other times they had never kissed. This time it was different.

Bodie was pushing him back against the cushions his body trapped by Bodie's as they continued to kiss. He felt Bodie pulling his shirt out from his trousers and he began to do the same to his partner needing urgently to feel Bodie's skin on his. Breaking the kiss Bodie took his own shirt off before removing his and then they were kissing again and Bodie began to work his way down Doyle's torso nipping and licking leaving a trail of tingling flesh in his wake. Doyle was canting his hips, wishing for contact as his erection strained against his jeans. Bodie removed the rest of their clothes quickly before he covered Doyle again, mouths locking together, hard cocks touching finally as they ground into one another. Breaking the kiss Bodie recommenced his journey down Doyle's body not stopping until he reached his goal and suddenly Doyle felt his cock engulfed in the wet heat of Bodie's mouth as he began to suck and lick the hard shaft.

"God! Bodie yes," he heard himself exclaim as he felt himself closer and closer mto orgasm but then Bodie stopped and looked at Doyle, his mouth wet from sucking him and said, voice rough with passion,

"I want to fuck you Ray."

Time seemed to stop, and Doyle knew that if he gave himself to Bodie like this it would be nearly impossible for them -- or at least him -- to return to normal, but he wanted it and almost before Bodie had finished his statement he heard himself agree.

"Fuck me then."



The next morning Doyle woke early feeling warm and sticky and sore. Bodie's arm was still around his waist and he could feel Bodie's breath on the back of his neck. They were in the same position that they had fallen asleep in - Bodie spooned behind him - squeezed together on the sofa. He untangled himself with as little fuss as possible, trying not to waken Bodie, and began to dress quietly though he suspected that Bodie was awake. If he was he never let on. Doyle left the flat and went home to shower and change before work and as he suspected they didn't talk about it.



They never mentioned it, but he thought about them sometimes and he knew he shouldn't crave Bodie, but he did, and thinking about them sometimes soon became most of the time.

It was probably the most stupid thing they had ever done. They were never ones to follow the rules to the letter but this was a rule that Cowley had put there for good reason. Non-fraternisation. If operatives were involved they would put each other before the job and emotion could not come into play in a life or death situation. Doyle had to remind himself that there really was no emotion involved. Bodie and he cared about what happened to each other but this wasn't a romance, it could never be a romance. This was something men in their situation did. That was what he was telling himself but he never really believed it. He never believed that anyone else on the squad had ever done this with their partner but he had let Bodie convince him that it was a perfectly normal reaction for straight men to turn to each other, especially in their line of work.

Straight men. They were definitely straight. Had to be. Her Majesty's Services did not seek to employ queers who were most definitely a security risk, open to blackmail. On the application form they had to answer a question. He had ticked the heterosexual box without compunction. He wondered had Bodie?

---

Six months later Bodie had begun dating an airhostess named Sophie. She was tall and blonde and beautiful and surprisingly their hectic schedules seemed to match perfectly. Bodie seemed happy. Doyle could see that Bodie seemed happy and was happy for him; he was however far less happy for himself. He couldn't seem to be bothered looking for a girlfriend. He didn't seem to have the patience any more to pursue. If a girl fell into his lap without much work on his part he would be happy to oblige, otherwise he was on his own. He was relieved that Bodie was busy with the new girl because it meant he didn't notice Doyle's lack of interest -- and that's what it was. He wasn't interested. He was thinking about Bodie more and more. But it was stupid, it could never happen.

---

They were at Bodie's for a meal. He and guest had been invited, but he had brought no guest. Bodie was uncomfortable but Doyle could not put his finger on why. He only knew that he was definitely feeling jealous. There she was, Sophie, the perfect hostess, in Bodie's home treating Doyle as if he had never been here before. She was acting as though she belonged here and he was the outsider. Maybe this was what was making Bodie uncomfortable maybe he was the outsider now. Doyle didn't care. He resolved to get drunk, get fed, and get home.

Later, through a slightly alcoholic haze, he found himself studying Sophie. She was beautiful, clever, and she could cook. She seemed the all round perfect woman; Bodie deserved someone this good. After dinner they retired to the living room and Doyle chose to sit in the armchair, leaving the sofa to Bodie and Sophie. They chatted and laughed and drank and when he mentioned going home Bodie insisted he stay. Being in no fit state to drive he agreed.

As he lay on the sofa he couldn't help but think of the last time he had lain here. Of course that had been different. Bodie had been plastered across his back, kissing his neck and shoulder, holding his hip as they moved together, and he remembered thinking that this was wrong, that Bodie shouldn't be fucking him and that he really shouldn't be enjoying it this much, that they should stop this before it got out of control but at the same time he knew that if Bodie left him and he felt the cool air on his back something in him would break and he didn't know if he would recover. That had been six months ago and he had felt Bodie inside him every day since then. Christ, what exactly had he gotten himself into? It was a joke to say there was no emotion involved, there certainly was on his part and when he was with Bodie he thought sometimes that he saw something there in unguarded moments and then it was gone as Bodie's mask fell back into place.

Exhausted, he fell asleep.

He came awake suddenly, aware of a presence in the room.

"Bodie?" he asked the darkness.

"Yeah, it's me. Didn't mean to wake you, sunshine."

Doyle was unable to focus just yet but he realised that Bodie was sitting in the armchair at the other end of the sofa.

"Anything wrong?"

"No, nothing."

"Why are you sitting here in the dark then? Shouldn't you be tucked up with the lovely Sophie?" he managed to croak out while trying to untangle himself from the blanket and sit up to face Bodie.

"Yeah, I should. Couldn't sleep. Been sitting here watching you for about an hour."

"Why, Bodie?"

"Don't know, Ray," Bodie replied, getting off his chair and coming to sit beside him. "Just needed to see you, I suppose. I needed to tell you something."

"What is it, Bodie?" Doyle asked as he saw Bodie moving closer to him, then he was lost as Bodie claimed his mouth, and he thought of Sophie and then he didn't give a shit about her and threw himself into the kiss.

Much later after he had fucked Bodie and they lay tangled together touching and kissing as if to make sure the other was really there he wondered again how he would feel tomorrow. Would his control of the past nearly nine months slip? He could already feel himself on the edge. Would he be able to handle Bodie's silence on the matter for another half year? He needed to know, he needed Bodie to say something anything.

"Bodie, we should talk about this."

"I'm sorry, Ray. I know I shouldn't have come out here, we can't do this, you know we can't." Bodie extracted himself from Doyle's arms, got off the sofa and put on his dressing gown.

"Yeah, I know," said Doyle, voice cracking as Bodie looked down at him, but he needed more. "But don't you think about us at all? Sometimes? Do you think about us sometimes?"

"No, Ray." Staring at the floor Bodie shook his head before lifting it to look at Doyle again. "I don't think about us sometimes. It's all the time. I think about us all the time."

And with that he walked away to return to Sophie, leaving Doyle lying there, his stomach in knots, tears threatening to spill, and only one thought going through his head said quietly to Bodie's retreating form.

"Christ, Bodie, what the hell have we gotten ourselves into?"

-- THE END --