The Professionals Circuit Archive - New Beginnings at Burdock       New
Beginnings at Burdock

 

by Slantedlight 

 
 *Written for the Halloween challenge for "Discovered in Fallen Leaves" on
the discoveredinalj livejournal community to the prompt "Bodie and Doyle
meet The Invisible Man."*


 The first time, after they'd finally rounded up McNeil and cronies down
in Burdock, and were standing by the pier waiting for the excitement to
die down, Doyle jumped a mile, glared at his partner - the only person
standing anywhere near - and stepped away rubbing his derriere pointedly.

 The second time, he jumped, his heart lurched, and *then* he rubbed his
bum and glared. Bodie just stood watching, a smirk on his face, as Doyle
ran his hands over his own arse.

 By the third time, he'd taken to staring at *Bodie's* arse, wondering if
he dared pinch him back, whether he could pretend he was doing it in
revenge, or if his hand would linger a little too long afterwards, so that
when Bodie slapped him hard on his rump, he was too frozen with the
glorious agony of decision to do anything except reach behind himself
*again*.

 Not fair, not fair, not fair. How was a bloke supposed to reform when his
*partner* kept tempting him from the straight and narrow? Maybe all those
looks were *supposed* to be long and smouldering after all, maybe...

 The fourth time, Bodie goosed him in the carpark, and he jumped and
glared because it sent shivers up his spine, it exploded in his breath and
his heart and his prick. And Bodie smirked again.

 The fifth time? Oh, the fifth time... 

 They'd been watching the footie one lazy Sunday afternoon, rain lashing
the windows outside, a whole weekend off behind them. They'd caught the
last of the autumn sunshine the day before, out on their bikes by the
coast, miles from home, from Cowley, from anything resembling care. By the
time they got back, riding under star-spat skies, they were as relaxed as
they ever were, content with their world. Bodie stayed over, they watched
a late night movie and drank some beer, and reclined easily beside each
other on the couch.

 So when Doyle felt a hand on his backside as he set the table for tea,
felt the fingers start to slide into a pinch, felt Bodie behind him
reaching around to steal a chip from one of the plates, he didn't jump,
and he didn't glare, and he didn't freeze.

 He put down the tomato sauce he was holding, and captured Bodie's
reaching hand, and he placed it firmly on his bum beside the other. Then
he pressed back into those hands, and he sighed and closed his eyes in
relief and heart-thudding desperation as Bodie reached his other arm
around him and pulled him even closer, breathed him in. Doyle felt him
smile, felt him whisper in his ear as much as heard him.

 "Why Doyle, I didn't know you cared..."

 He settled for moaning, as Bodie's hands left his arse, finally moved
away, finally slid around to caress his suddenly very hard prick through
jeans that were achingly tight, that had to be undone, that... And then
they were, and Bodie's hand was on him, and he pushed backwards again,
moved against Bodie's own cock, rhythmically backwards and forwards,
wriggled as Bodie shoved him against the table, bent over him and thrust
against hard denim, again and again...

 "Wait..." he pushed them both upright again, looked desperately across
the dinner plates.

 "Doyle, no..." Bodie began, and then, "Oh..."

 Doyle shoved his jeans lower, his boxers out of the way, so that he was
naked to mid-thigh, then he took Bodie's hand, curled the fingers just so,
and reached them into the tub of margarine that was sitting on the table.

 "Since you can't seem to keep yer 'ands off me bum you might as well do
the job properly..."

 "What d'you mean keep me hands... oh Christ Doyle..."

 Doyle pressed back again, so that the margarine-slick fingers were deep
inside him, so that Bodie's cock was margarine-slick too, so that it slid
easily where the fingers had been and...

 Doyle felt rather than heard Bodie's whisper in his ear, felt it through
the cock up his arse, through the heat across his back, through the arm
banded around his chest, holding them upright. He felt the whisper with
every thrust, with every moan, with everything that brought them closer
and closer together, and he knew that this first-fifth time was just the
start.

 ******

*High above them, a grey-wisped shade stared hopefully at the gates to
Limbo, glanced back once in their direction, and fled, his tally rising,
his scales that much closer to balancing, the spirit of a man that much
closer to being seen again.*

 -- THE END --

 *October 2007*

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