The Professionals Circuit Archive - Voyeur	   Voyeur

 

by Anne Carr

  
 *An alternative sequel to Siren by Sebastian*

"Christ, it's *hot*!" Ray Doyle stretched, winced as his knee audibly
popped, and began to use his expense chit to fan himself. "You'd think
that it'd cool off a little by this time of night."

Across the Ops Room Bodie glanced up from reading his magazine. "What?"

"I said, 'It's *hot*'," Doyle repeated patiently.

"Oh." Bodie nodded vaguely and returned to his article.

Ray looked at him for a long moment from between half-closed eyes, then
casually began to unbutton his shirt. "Course I'll bet you're used to it.
All those years sloggin' about in the jungle...."

Bodie turned the page, "Uh huh."

Doyle sat up and slowly stripped off the sweat-dampened shirt.

"Are you?"

"Uh huh."

Clearly his partner was miles away. Doyle stared at the dark head
resolutely turned away from him, unaware of the frown on his own face. He
stood up and, abandoning the shirt in a crumpled heap on the sofa, moved
to stand beside Bodie. "How much longer do you think they'll be?"

Dragged back to the present once again Bodie became aware of the presence
next to him and turned. He opened his mouth then stopped, taking in his
partner's half-naked body. As he watched, Doyle ran his hand around his
neck in a slow gesture, arching just a fraction closer, a seemingly
innocent movement.

Expressions of almost intolerable pain/longing, and then anger crossed
Bodie's face and finally the pale features shuttered as he looked his
partner up and down, raking over disordered curls, past the faintly
smiling face to the sweat streaked chest and lower. His gaze lingered on
the slight bulge in Doyle's tight jeans then his eyes rose to meet Ray's
and his expression changed just slightly--as if he had studied the
merchandize and found it wanting. "I don't know how long they'll be," he
finally answered the question, and his tone was bland. "I'll go see, shall
I?"

He stood up easily, somehow managing to not quite brush against a suddenly
immobile Doyle, and walked to the door where he paused. "Why don't you
take a cold shower? If it looks like something's going to happen I'll have
one of the lads let you know."

He disappeared, closing the door too quietly behind himself. Ray
instinctively took a step after him, then stopped. He knew that cool tone
of voice--though this was the first time it had ever been used on him.
"Bodie?"

Through the thin door he could hear Bodie's fading footsteps, not
hurrying, just going away. He sat down on the chair feeling suddenly
chilled despite the hot room. He'd finally done it--pushed Bodie too far.
Played his little game once too often. That remark about the shower had
been deliberate, harking back to a similar night not so long ago....

"Well it was fun while it lasted," he told the silent room in a vain
attempt to shrug away this sudden empty feeling. It was true. It had been
fun. Teasing his partner--knowing he could get him going--was a weird sort
of turn on. He had enjoyed Bodie's discomfort. After all, Bodie did it to
him often enough. All those black tight clothes, the smoldering
look-don't-touch attitude...hell, it was only natural he'd get a kick out
of knowing Bodie wanted him. Wasn't it?

But now, as surely as if he'd said it aloud, Bodie had called a halt to
the game.

"Oh well," Ray shrugged and went to retrieve his shirt. It didn't matter.
Of course it didn't. A bit of harmless fun, another way to relieve the
boredom of interminable waits between action times. But if Bodie figured
he could keep on teasing and not get some sort of retaliation he had
another think coming. The next time he wore black...Ray nodded to himself
and reached for his shoulder holster, then went off to find his partner.

******

There was only one faintly cool room in the whole building, an empty
office that Alan Mosley and his partner Steve Shaw had somehow
appropriated for their own use. It was cool because Alan had brought in a
large revolving fan and at the moment it was creaking from side to side,
stirring the air just enough to ruffle the papers on the pockmarked table
top.

Bodie paused in the open doorway and watched as Steve carefully poured
himself a cup of something cool and wet-looking from a thermos. The tall
blond had a half-maniacal expression Bodie recognized. It meant 6.3 was
about to do something diabolical to his long suffering partner.

Alan Mosley was asleep in a straight chair, head tilted back, mouth open
as he almost snored. Steve looked up, saw Bodie, and grinned, then
advanced on his unsuspecting partner. Very carefully he positioned
himself, the cup tilted, and the next minute the contents cascaded over
Alan's face, and down his open shirted chest.

Alan didn't even open his eyes. "You bloody sod," he said clearly and
reached behind himself, unerringly finding Steve's other hand. He twisted.

"Uncle!" Steve immediately gasped, laughing.

Bodie leaned against the doorjamb and observed, "Cowley will not love you
if you break his arm."

"Cowley," Alan was acid, "does not love me anyway." But he released Steve
and opened his eyes. "News?"

Bodie shook his head. "Nothing yet. Why doesn't the Cow love you?"

Alan took the towel Steve offered and wiped himself. "We were bad boys."

"Be fair," Steve was still grinning. "*You* were a bad boy." He waved
Bodie in, "Mad Mosley here got caught chattin' up the Minister's daughter
when he was supposed to be nursemaidin' the Minister."

"We were not amused," Alan added mournfully.

Bodie clucked with sympathy and went to join Steve by the fan.

"Is there anything left to drink?"

Steve glanced around, "No more cups. Here, have mine."

He offered it to Bodie's mouth and Bodie sipped, raising his head to find
Doyle watching from the doorway. He eyed his partner for a long moment,
then spoke to Steve. "That's good--what is it?"

"Wet," the good looking blond told him. He finished the drink and sighed.
"Will this night never end? S'too hot for standby. Here's your better
half, 3.7."

Bodie had turned back to the fan. "Thought you were goin' to shower off."

"Changed my mind, didn't I?" Ray answered.

"Shower? Now why didn't *I* think of that?" Steve poked his partner
sharply. "Wake up, Sleeping Beauty."

"If you are proposing 4.5 as Prince Charming, I decline the offer," Alan
replied comfortably.

"I'm going to take a shower."

"Wonders never cease. I'll alert the color supplements."

Bodie put in, "Mind company? A shower sounds good."

"You can scrub me back," Steve promised, sounding delighted. "You better
watch it, 4.5, I've been dyin' to get this animal alone in the showers for
ages."

Doyle's green eyes were enigmatic. "Have you?"

Bodie groaned and pushed Steve ahead of him, past Doyle and out into the
steamy hall. "Come on, you horny toad, if you're good I'll share my soap."

They disappeared around the corner, laughing, and Ray was left standing,
feeling as if he had been kicked in the guts.

******

The heat wave lasted for two weeks and was followed by a long wet month.
One case merged into the next, with little time off and odd hours to spend
it in. At long last things slowed to a dull roar, Dawson was put to rest,
Cowley took a good look at his erstwhile 'best' team and curtly ordered,
"One week off." He added bluntly, "And whatever it is bothering you two,
you'd best have it worked out by next Monday or you'll be on files 'til
you do."

That was yesterday. Now Doyle sat in his car parked outside Bodie's flat
and watched the drizzle drops melt into each other and run down the
windscreen, distorting his view. He was tired, a bone-weary, inner tired
that left him feeling sapped, depressed and oddly empty. It had been a
long day, spent by himself just walking through the rain, examining his
feelings, going over every word and deed between him and his partner in
the last six weeks. It had been a painful process and in the end it had
brought him here.

The Cow was right. Something had gone out of the team--the magic, the
spark that made them special had disappeared. The shell was there, they
still worked together very well, but the *feeling* was gone as if it had
never been.

Doyle hunched deeper into his jacket and shivered. There had been a moment
there when Williams had been ordered to kill him, when he had thought
Bodie would let the MI6 agent do it. That Bodie might actually *want* him
dead. Of course it wasn't true, but just the fleeting thought was a
symptom of their problem. That he could doubt Bodie for a single instant
scared the hell out of him.

*Why*? At what point had everything changed? What had he done to make
Bodie...no, Bodie didn't hate him, or even dislike him. It was more as if
he'd just...lost interest.

Doyle had never felt so alone in his life.

It had not, however, come as a big shock. He'd known there was something
wrong. But it seemed like they were always working--the time was never
right--or just when he'd try and open up the subject Bodie would hare off
in the opposite direction, figuratively, or, a couple of times, literally.

After the long wet afternoon he had pinned it down to that night in the
Ops Room. Bodie had clicked off, like a light switch, and somehow Doyle
hadn't been able to turn him on again.

Nice choice of words, that.

Had Bodie been so disgusted at his little game that he could no longer
stand him?

It wasn't doing any good sitting out here in the motor. The answers were
inside where he knew Bodie to be.

Doyle finally got out of the car, ignoring the rain as he was already
soaked through anyway, determined to find out what was going on, to put it
right, and make things like they were before.

Bodie let him in with a smile reserved for strangers. "What's up?"

"Not me, that's for sure, mate." Doyle grinned. In the past Bodie would
have answered with a ribald comment and offered a drink in compensation.
That was past. Now he merely looked at his partner with polite enquiry.

Ray stared back, fighting the urge to throw Bodie across the room, then
brushed past. "What've you got that's drinkable?"

He shrugged off his jacket and wandered into the tiny kitchen area to
drape it over a convenient chair. "Beer?"

Bodie, who had followed him, opened the refrigerator and handed over a
bottle, but didn't take one himself. "You're wet."

"Bloody good of you to notice."

"Hang about." Bodie disappeared and returned a minute later, giving him a
large towel.

"Thanks."

Silence.

Ray sat on the chair and took turns drying his hair and drinking, hoping a
little desperately that Bodie would open the conversation. But his partner
merely leaned against the counter, arms folded, one foot crooked over the
other in a studiously casual position, and stonily watched him.

When he couldn't stand the heavy quiet a second longer Doyle put the towel
aside. "I came to talk."

"Any special subject?" Bodie glanced at his watch. "'urry up. I've got
plans on."

"Yeah. Us."

Bodie nodded.

Exasperated, Ray blurted, "What the hell's gone wrong? What's happened?
Cowley's right, you know, we've got a problem."

"I don't recall your back gettin' hot," Bodie replied coolly.

"I'm not talkin' about my bleedin' back, and you know it! S'you, Bodie.
Bein' with you lately 's like bein' with a soddin' Sphinx! So I want to
know...what's *happened*?" Aware his voice was rising, Ray cut himself off
abruptly and glared.

Bodie pushed off the counter and came closer, his cool expression not
changing. His words were deliberately precise. "Nothing has happened."

"Pull the other one," Doyle scoffed. "And sit down. I'm gettin' a kink in
me neck."

Bodie sat opposite and linked his fingers together loosely on the table
top. He met Doyle's eyes, saw the determination there and sighed. "All
right. You want to know--I'll tell you. You're what's wrong."

"I *know* that," Ray waved a hand. "I just want you to tell me what I've
done that's makin' you be like this."

Bodie made a face. "You're really something else, you know that? You
*really* don't know? Forget it, Doyle, you're a lot of things, but stupid
is not among them. You know *exactly*...."

"No!" Ray leaned forward, cutting him off. "You tell me." He felt a
trickle of left-over rain run down his chest...or was it sweat? He slid
one hand inside his shirt to rub it off.

Bodie's hand shot out and grabbed his wrist, stilling the movement. Doyle
attempted to pull free and met a gaze as hard as the iron grip. 

"Not again," Bodie whispered. "No."

The wet droplet slid down unnoticed. Ray shook his head, confused. His
hand relaxed and Bodie's grip loosened, then fell away.

Bodie sat back. "You're a tease."

Doyle relaxed, more sure of himself now. He'd been right, Bodie was pissed
about his little game. Ray had no intention of letting his big partner get
away with it. After all, Bodie had started the whole thing. "Just me?
What's the matter, Bodie? You can give it, but you can't take it? Is that
it?"

Bodie raised one eyebrow.

"Look at *you*! Christ! You started it." Ray smiled suddenly. "Bloody good
you are, too. Ah, come on, mate. It was a stupid game."

Bodie shook his head. "I never did. Not once. Quit justifying yourself.
You tried to get me going. Over and over. And you did it, too. Yeah, I'll
admit it. I want you," he said low and clear. "You should see yourself
now, mate. Your jaw drops any lower you'll trip on it."

He leaned forward, hooked one arm around Doyle's neck and pulled the
stunned man closer. "Oh yeah," he whispered against Ray's mouth, "you got
me goin'. I *do* want you."

The kiss was long and hard. Then Doyle was released and Bodie stood up.
"But that's not part of your game, is it? You like me to want you--gives
you some kind of thrill--but god forbid if it goes any further. And don't
tell me you don't get off on it."

Doyle opened his mouth and closed it again. Bodie was right.

This wasn't going the way he'd planned.

"Well, I'm not playing any more. And you can bloody well figure out for
yourself why." Bodie picked up the damp jacket and handed it to him. "Go
home, Ray. Think it over."

"Bodie, listen...."

"Go home."

Doyle went.

The pub was noisy, cheerful, and the drink good. Doyle sat slumped in the
corner and didn't notice any of it.

'Never once,' Bodie had said. And he'd meant it.

Could he have been so wrong about Bodie? Surely not...and yet, god knew
he'd been wrong about people before now. But not *Bodie*. He'd have sworn
he knew his partner better than anyone. Even Cowley.

"Damnit!" he plunked the beer mug on the table and ignored the startled
looks from a nearby table. He *did* know Bodie. Christ, their knowledge of
each other was what had kept them alive until now, made them a *team*.
Cowley's best. Only they weren't best anymore and he didn't need the Old
Man to tell him that.

Bodie said he had never led Doyle on. Ray leaned back and closed his eyes,
trying to think back to the early days--what had Bodie been like then?
Prickly. Smug. Layered over with a plethora of self-protective guises.

Doyle remembered the smooth grace of his partner, the easy flow into
action, the hard face that could suddenly split into a soul-rendering
smile. Bodie had been a challenge in those days, had put Doyle on his
mettle and kept him there. Bodie brought out the best in him.

But that hadn't changed. And the sexual teasing hadn't been there
then...well, not as noticeably anyway....

Maybe Bodie was doing it unintentionally.

Now that made more sense. Perhaps, somewhere deep in Bodie's subconscious,
he'd wanted to go to bed with Doyle and so had begun the subtle body
language. The thought appealed to Ray and he lingered on it. Had Bodie
dreamed about him? Did he dream about him now?

"'ere mate!"

A rough hand shook his shoulder and he came back to earth with a thud.
"What?"

The barman was not impressed. "You go sleep it off somewhere else, mate.
Not 'ere," he growled.

"I'm not drunk," Doyle protested mildly, but didn't feel in the mood to
argue. He got up and smiled at the large man. "Just tired, okay?"

Satisfied that the table was now clear for the drinking, and therefore
*paying*, trade, the man nodded and went away.

Doyle felt the eyes of the crowd on his back as he left the pub, but it
didn't bother him. He'd found his answer. Bodie had subconsciously wanted
him and when he, Ray, had responded more openly it had brought all Bodie's
desires to the fore.

Easy.

He unlocked his car door and climbed in, stuck the key into the ignition,
and froze.

Bodie wanted him. He'd bloody *said* so. Had even kissed him. A cold,
hard, sexless kiss, true, but....

Ray frowned mightily into the still rainy darkness. Bodie wanted him. No
game. No tease to liven up a dull job. No almost innocent little one act
farce.

Half of him shrank away from the idea--the logical half who knew it really
shouldn't work. The other half felt the tingle as the flush heat of
arousal surged through him.

Bodie had been right--the game turned him on, too. Seeing Bodie all pent
up...leading him on...but the next step?

Nobody need ever know, his sensual voice told him--and sanity answered,
Bullshit.

Cowley'd know. There was no getting around *that*. The Old Man probably
knew how many times they'd been to the loo in the last twenty-four hours.
Most likely the information was stored in a computer somewhere as well.

How the Cow would react was beyond Doyle's imagination. A mental picture
ran through his mind--Cowley standing on the steps of Whitehall, pointing
an accusing finger at his snow-covered ex-best team, stentorously
intoning, "Never darken my doorstep again!"

Ray grinned. Bodie'd told him to think it over. He didn't imagine this was
quite what his partner had in mind.

So, what to do?

Talk it over with Bodie. Find out exactly what *he* wanted. It surprised
Ray a little to find that it really mattered to him that Bodie be happy.
These last few weeks had been the worst of Doyle's life. He hadn't
realized until now how much his own happiness depended on his relationship
with his partner. Without Bodie he wasn't whole.

Come to think of it though, if he had to choose someone to be a part of
him, he couldn't have found anyone better than Bodie.

He glanced at his watch. Three hours since he'd left his partner's flat.
It was still raining. He was hungry. Bodie'd mentioned something about
plans for the evening.

Sod it. Doyle turned the key and headed the car in the direction of his
partner. If Bodie was out he'd wait for him, if Bodie had company he'd
pitch 'em out. One way or another they would come to terms tonight.

Exactly *what* terms, and where they'd lead...well...he'd face that when
the time came.

******

Bodie had one of the nicer CI5 abodes this term. A garden flat, with a
high surrounding wall a few soggy rose bushes lining the walk. It wasn't a
top security place, they took what they could get and installed the extras
as necessary, but it was larger than the usual and for once all the decor
matched.

There was no answer to the gate intercom. Doyle hoisted himself up on the
wall for a quick look. The lights were on, but the curtains drawn. It
looked like a haven of dry warmth in there.

He swung over and dropped with a light squish into the mud beside one of
the rose bushes.

"Sorry," he muttered to the plant as he untangled his jeans from the
clinging thorns. Overhead thunder rumbled, and the drizzle turned back
into grownup rain.

Doyle pursed his lips and considered. He could hardly get wetter--perhaps
a bit of judicious recon was in order. Bursting in on Bodie and company
had sounded good while sitting safe in his motor. Faced with the very real
proposition and subsequent anger of his big partner, the idea palled
rapidly.

He let the rain be his cover and advanced on the window. The curtain was
pulled firmly together and the slight crack at the bottom showed him only
the base of a floor lamp and a patch of carpet. Putting his ear to the
glass was no help--the rain was far too loud to hear anything.

Doyle drifted away and went round to the side where Bodie's bedroom window
might offer more.

The light here was dim. Probably just the bedside lamp on, Doyle decided,
and edged closer, barely able to pass between wall and building. The
curtains here were midnight blue, providing a darkened room even in broad
daylight. Their hours necessitated sleeping whenever they could--Ray had
similar material in his own bedroom. The small eave provided an inadequate
shelter from the downpour. He found a chink in the curtains and
unabashedly peered inside.

The room was empty, but as he watched Bodie entered, carrying a drink. He
was alone, but it never occurred to Doyle to make his own presence known;
from the second Bodie stepped into the room Ray was mesmerized. Like a
voyeur and his victim, he watched his partner, seeing him in a new and
fascinating way.

It was like watching a silent movie. Bodie took a swallow of the golden
liquor and made a satisfied face before setting it on the small table by
the bed. He was still dressed, but for shoes and socks, in the clothes
he'd worn earlier, but now he began to take them off, his movements slow,
lingering, as if he were very tired.

The shirt went first, the buttons undone one at a time before he pulled
the ends free and slid it off from broad shoulders. It was the white shirt
with the little brown hearts--not one of Doyle's favorites. Bodie looked
at the garment, dangling it off one finger, then shrugged and tossed it
towards the hamper in the corner.

The roll neck sweater was next. Bodie made quick work of that before it
joined its mate by the dirty clothes. Ray watched the strip avidly through
the split in the curtain. Private performance, just for him. Seeing Bodie
as he really was--no barriers, no games. Just Bodie being himself.

He was a powerful animal, every movement rippled the now bare muscles in
his arms and across his back. Bodie turned to take another swallow of his
drink and in the dim light Doyle could just make out the long scar on his
partner's shoulder blade.

The glass once again set aside, Bodie unbelted, then worked the zip on his
cords. The tight, beige material parted and he unconcernedly let it lie as
his hands slid inside, over his hips to caress his own buttocks. He
wiggled, pushed at the cords and they fell to his feet, taking the
underpants along. Kicked free, Bodie was nude.

He stretched, reaching fingertips towards the ceiling, arching into air,
until his body was a slim taper of raw strength, his sex barely jutting
forward. Doyle swallowed, aware suddenly that he was getting very turned
on by this unconscious display. He shifted and reached to rearrange
himself in his jeans and at that same instant Bodie broke his frozen
stance and bent to touch his hands to the carpet. One smooth movement that
resulted in his taut, muscled buttocks openly displayed, the pale skin
gold and shadows in the lamplight.

Doyle's hand lingered on his cock.

Twice more Bodie lifted and bent, each time a little more relaxed as the
yoga did its work and his body loosened. The third time he spread his legs
and Doyle made a sound low in his throat as his sex throbbed in response
to the scene. The line of his partner's ass was revealing--only the
shadows hiding the tight pucker of muscle there.

The pane clouded as Ray let out a heavy sigh. In that moment he knew he
wanted Bodie. Wanted to feel that hard body against his, wanted to touch,
and fondle, and *take* and be taken.... He forgot the rain, forgot
everything but the rising burn inside himself. Christ, was this what Bodie
felt like when he'd been teased? Had Bodie been this hot, known
this...frustration?

Inside the warm bedroom Bodie straightened slowly and walked with
leisurely grace out of the room.

Doyle sagged, his flushed face pressing into the cool window glass as he
tried to regain some control. He pulled his fingers free, but within his
tight jeans his cock still throbbed, hard and painful against his belly.

Cool, sensual Bodie, his every move a sexual invitation...Doyle blinked
and lifted his head. That little scene, enacted just now, was pure
Bodie...Bodie, who hadn't known he was being watched, wasn't aware his
partner was skulking outside his bedroom window.

No subconscious come-on then, for Doyle's sake. Ray bit his lip until he
tasted blood. Bodie had said he never started the game, never teased, and
here was the proof.

He himself had been wrong, Doyle now knew. The only subconscious desires
had been his own. Bodie wasn't teasing him, he was just being *Bodie*--and
Doyle had read only what he'd wanted to read, had stuck his own wants onto
his innocent partner.

So much safer that way.

It had almost destroyed them both.

"I'm sorry, mate," Doyle whispered. He'd make it up to Bodie.

His groin ached, full and unreleased. "No time like the present
either...."

He turned away from the window and edged back towards the garden. This
time he kept his finger on the buzzer and let it ring.

His hair still wet, Bodie let him in and pulled his white terry cloth robe
closer. "Was in the shower. Didn't think you'd be back tonight."

Ray sneezed as the warm air hit him. "Did like you said, didn't I? Thought
it all over."

No answer.

Bodie shut the door. The lock clicking into place echoed. When he turned
back to Doyle his blue eyes were dark and unreadable. "You're soaked
through. Go take a hot shower--there's plenty left."

Doyle took one look at the implacable face and didn't argue. He was
shivering, and not all from being cold, either.

The bathroom mirror was misted over, the room still foggy with steam. Ray
stripped and left his clothes in a sodden heap on the floor, then stepped
under the flowing water.

He hadn't realized he was so bone cold. He stood stark still, letting the
warmth soak in, relaxing under the steady flow while, over and over, his
mind's eye replayed the erotic scene of Bodie stripping off...bending
over....

"Doyle."

Doyle's eyes were closed, lost in his fantasy.

"Doyle... *Ray*!"

Hard fingers gripped and shook his shoulder. Ray reluctantly came out of
his reverie and he blinked drowsily.

Bodie was looking exasperated and amused together. "I thought it was
elephants slept on their feet."

"Not sleeping."

Ray didn't move as their eyes met and held. The water ran on, unnoticed,
splashing glistening drops on Bodie's hands where they still held Doyle.

"Looked like it," Bodie finally said.

He made as if to move, but Ray was faster. "Come on in," he grinned
crookedly and hooked his fingers in Bodie's robe, jerking him under the
spray.

"Doyle! Christ...." Bodie glared and motioned to the rapidly dampening
material. "Look!"

Having Bodie this close, the clean smell of him rising through the steam,
was too much. Doyle threw what little was left of his caution to
metaphorical winds and slid his hands under the wet folds of terry cloth,
"I'd love to..." he muttered and pulled the robe off. He tossed it out,
ignoring the squishy splat it made as it hit the floor, continuing,
"...look, that is...."

Bodie made a sound, low and deep, but stayed still when Ray's hands
gripped harder.

"Don't go," Doyle said quietly. "Not now...."

Blue eyes met green and Doyle smiled, trying for reassurance, knowing it
was shaky at best. How was he to reassure when he didn't know what he was
doing himself? Without conscious volition his hands moved across the broad
shoulders, rubbing at the tense neck before lowering to his partner's
chest. He was fascinated by the feel of such soft skin over hard muscle,
the way the water ran in patterns, the feel of rib ridges and small raised
nipples. He rubbed his thumb lightly over those nubs and Bodie finally
moved, his hands rising suddenly to stop Doyle.

"Don't."

"Why not? 'S what you want," Ray pointed out reasonably. His knee lifted
briefly and gently nudged Bodie's cock. It was hard. "See?"

Bodie still held him, the grip punishing. "What is this, Doyle? The next
step? Not satisfied with being *told*? You have to see for yourself?"

The bitter anger in Bodie's voice shocked him. Doyle shook his head,
trying to get wet ringlets out of his eyes. "It's not like that."

"Then you tell me, *partner*. What *is* it like? You'll have to say. I
don't seem to know how to play this little game of yours, do I? You keep
changing the rules."

"Oh, Bodie...." Doyle leaned forward and sighed as his own hard shaft
nestled against the warm haven of Bodie's abdomen. "It's not a *game*.
Can't you *feel* me? I want you. I want you so bad I can bloody *taste*
it!"

Bodie merely looked at him through the mist.

Desperately Ray ground their bodies together and knew a moment of triumph
when he felt his partner's cock throb against him. But it wasn't enough.
He wanted Bodie, yes, but more than that...he wanted Bodie to feel the way
he did.

What the hell was the matter with himself? It had always been so easy,
easy to get the birds going, easy to get *Bodie* going. And now, now when
for the first time, it was really important, he was like an inexperienced
teenager. Bodie's body might be reacting, but the mysterious, exciting
essence that was *Bodie* was holding back.

He'd do anything--*anything*--for his partner. Didn't Bodie know that?
With supreme effort he broke loose from the bruising hold and with the
barrier of arms gone from between them he slid his water slick body
against the like one of his partner, held his head and kissed him.

Bodie made that low protesting sound again, then his body relaxed, his
lips opened, and he was kissing back hungrily, sucking Doyle's tongue deep
into his mouth.

Doyle felt the stiffening threaten to go out of his knees and held the
solid body like a lifeline. They were moving in an ever quickening rhythm,
rubbing the hard shafts against each other, pressing groins and bellies
closer until the pace was almost violent. Like wildfire it was too fast,
all consuming, and they wouldn't--couldn't--stop....

Doyle felt the storm gather within him, center, and explode. He broke
their ragged kiss, throwing his head back as he gasped and stiffened.
Bodie held him, and through the haze of climax Ray felt the answering
pulse of his partner's cock.

Doyle took a long, slow breath, forcing his body to stay upright, to come
back to some sense of normality. "Christ, Bodie..." he chuckled.

Bodie released him and stood back. "The water's getting cool," he said in
a surprisingly even voice and reached for the soap. Still trying to clear
his own vision Doyle didn't see the usually steady hands shake.

He started to speak, but Bodie turned away, quickly rinsing himself before
passing the bar to Ray.

"Here," was all Bodie said, then Doyle was alone, and under the shock of
rapidly cooling water the whole thing seemed like a dream.

A large brown towel hung on the back of the bathroom door. Doyle dried off
quickly and wrapped it around his hips. The flat was quiet, barely lit,
but sounds emerged from the kitchen. He followed the noise and found his
partner pouring out two large whiskeys. Bodie too, wore only a towel and
Doyle noted with a wave of an intense feeling that he wasn't prepared to
analyze that, as usual, Bodie had neglected to dry his beautiful flawed
back.

He made no effort to be quiet but Bodie didn't turn. Ray smiled and went
forward, flicking off his own towel to wipe off the clinging droplets.

At the first touch Bodie stiffened and moved away. "Don't!" he said
sharply and picked up his drink, downing it in one.

Doyle was left standing with the towel in hand, feeling an utter fool.
"Bodie?"

Bodie refused to look at him. "There's a drink." 

"Bodie, I...."

"There's clothes on the sofa--and a jacket." Bodie set his glass carefully
in the sink, and brushed past, not quite touching. "I'd appreciate it if
you'd get dressed and get out. I'm going to bed."

He started down the short dark hallway and was halfway before Ray caught
him and swung him around.

"What the hell's amatter with you?!" he yelled.

"Nothing. I'm tired." Bodie didn't look at him.

Doyle didn't think he'd ever felt pain like this before, didn't understand
it, couldn't begin to cope with it. But he wasn't about to leave and have
all those barriers rise up between them again. He let go, making the
release a caress. "I'm tired, too, mate, and I've had enough rain for one
day."

"Then use the bloody sofa," Bodie said and turned away.

Doyle followed him into the bedroom and couldn't help a surreptitious
glance toward the window. The curtains appeared to be closed, the faint
crack only there if you really looked for it.

He felt Bodie's glare and met his eyes reluctantly. He knew just how
vicious his partner could be and Bodie's look portended some painful
words. It didn't matter though--he was already hurting too much for it to
get worse.

Bodie began quietly. "Are you incapable of taking a hint?"

"I'm known for it," Doyle tried to lighten the mood a little. "Besides,
I've slept on your sofa before."

"Then go home." Bodie moved away to the other side of the bed. "You got
what you wanted. So now you can leave."

About to say that *wasn't* what he'd wanted, Doyle stopped. Bodie, in a
way, was absolutely right. But, on the other--so much more
important--side, he was very very wrong. Ray frowned. "You wanted it,
too."

Bodie was neatly folding back the duvet and didn't answer.

Feeling as if he'd been handed the moon and had it snatched back in one
move, Ray finally cried out in a raw voice, "Bodie! What *is* it?"

Bodie stopped dead and glanced up, then blinked as if what his eyes told
him had to be a mirage.

Doyle went on, "What have I done? I don't understand you...I thought I
did, but...Bodie?"

Bodie shook his head, then came around the bed. "Tell me something.
Honestly."

"Anything."

"Why're you still here?"

"For Chrissakes! Because...." Ray trailed off. "Do you think after what
just happened I'd just walk off? Just like that?"

Bodie just shrugged. "Why not? 'S what you do to everyone else, isn't it?"

"That's not true, and anyway you're not everyone else. You're you."

"Yeah." Bodie sat on the edge of the bed and spoke so softly Doyle could
barely hear. "Yeah, I'm me. And I don't want a quick one-off. I don't want
some overnight sex because you got curious, or carried away or anything
else. You've used me enough."

Needing to see his partner's face, Doyle squatted down, "You're talkin'
crazy, Bodie. I haven't used you. At least...not intentionally. You don't
do that when you care about someone. Yes, all right. I came here so hot
for you I could've...but, damnit, Bodie, you wanted it too!"

He rocked forward onto his knees, edging between Bodie's legs, spreading
them with no thought other than to get closer. He wrapped long arms around
Bodie's waist and pressed himself tight against the cool, hard body of his
partner, shivering a little at the feel of such banked down strength.
"Don't talk about one-offs. You make it sound dirty. I won't let you,
d'you hear? I won't *let* you do this to us!"

A hesitant hand rested on his head then combed through the wet curls.
"What do you want now, Ray?"

"More." Doyle looked up quickly then buried his head back against Bodie's
chest. "All. I want all of you. I want you to want all of me.... Is that
it, Bodie? You don't want me? I could understand that...."

Bodie's hand tightened painfully in his hair as he started to move away.
"No, of course not. I mean, of course I want you. I thought...oh shit, get
off your knees, 4.5."

They moved to lie side by side on the bed. Doyle, still unsure of anything
except that he wasn't leaving ever again unless Bodie threw him out,
stretched out and began tracing lines on his partner's face. "You're
beautiful," he said seriously.

"Been telling you that for years."

"For once you were right."

"Doyle, correct me if I'm wrong here, but are you saying you want
a...relationship?"

"You mean an affair?" Doyle considered. "Hadn't really thought about it
like that. I just...what we have is *good*. The work, the play, the
sex...all of it. Can't think of anybody I'd rather be with than you. Stop
me if you feel you have to go take insulin or something...."

Bodie chuckled. "Not just curiosity, then? Or...."

"*No*." Doyle interrupted him with a kiss, quick and hard. "No, not
tonight. I've been doing a lot of thinking today, about us."

"Serious problems now emerge," Bodie intoned.

"Don't laugh. S' true." Ray made a face. "Mostly a bunch of screwed up
junk. But I learned one thing."

"I'm afraid to ask," Bodie said and pulled him a little closer. "Okay,
I'll bite. What?"

"I won't ever face anything worse than not being with you."

Bodie stared at him and Ray felt like he was drowning in widened blue
eyes. "If you laugh," he added, "I'll bloody kill you."

"I'm not laughing."

"Then say *something*!"

"I'd like to fuck you through the floor," Bodie told him, as if he were
bored.

Doyle waited, not breathing.

"Every day. Until they put us in the Home For Retired Agents."

"Is that all?"

"Well...after that we might graduate to a bed. Old bones n'all."

Doyle found all the pain had melted away. Bodie's tone might be bored, but
his eyes were hot...and full of something no one had ever offered him
before.

He snuggled closer. "Cowley'll kill us."

"Cowley can do the other thing."

"You plannin' to tell him that?"

"Only if you're ready to pick up the pieces when he chucks me out of his
office on me ear."

"Anytime."

There was silence as they slowly kissed, a quiet soft gesture, full of
promises neither could yet put into words.

Doyle was first to pull away. "Face it when we have to?"

Bodie nodded.

"In that case, you know all the fuckin' you were wantin'?"

"'M not likely to forget."

"D'you think you could start now?"

"It could be arranged."

About to sink into the sensual pleasure Bodie offered, Ray suddenly sat up
and swung off the bed.

Bodie watched him indulgently. "What is it now, Sunshine?"

"Nothing." Doyle went to the window and carefully closed the chink in the
curtains. "Don't want any prying eyes, do we?"

Bodie shook his head. "You're crazy."

Doyle smiled, turned off the light, and slipped into the waiting arms.

-- THE END --	Archive Home