The Professionals Circuit Archive - Chocolate Bandit	     Chocolate
Bandit

 

by Ellis Ward

  
 Hushed and wan, first light crept slowly into Ray Doyle's bedroom.
Outside his window, birdsong trilled, its clear, pure notes presumptuous
in the grey stillness. Not a whisper of breeze stirred the fresh sprung
leaves so greenly adorning the stately elm in the front garden. It was the
time of suspension, before dawn relinquished its sovereignty to day; the
preternatural time when body and mind were singularly one.

Amidst this calm, Ray Doyle awoke, warm and relaxed, sprawled heavily
across the mattress, cozily ensconced in folds of cotton and wool. The
bird's greeting echoed faintly in his head, easily recalled as it was soon
repeated; but it was not the cause of his rousing. That had been triggered
by something else; some subliminal, signature quality as well-known to him
as the rustle of sheets that accompanied his shift from back to side.

Bodie.

No other's presence was as deeply fixed in his consciousness, encompassing
every aspect of the other man's being. Doyle knew him unseen: the scent of
him, the taste, the sound of his voice and measured tread of his
footfalls, the glorious texture of each inch of his body; from the silken,
thick hair on his head to the healthy solidness of his toenails. He had
explored it all--and willingly learned it anew at every opportunity.

Certain that Bodie had been here, but puzzled as to why he had gone away
without announcing himself, Doyle slowly unshuttered his eyes and gazed
about the palely lit room. All was as it had been when he had climbed into
bed the night before: the door was closed, curtains half-drawn to let in
the morning, his clothing heaped on the tea-chest that stood at the foot
of the bed. Blinking drowsily, a slight frown etched between dark brows,
he scanned everything--and there on the bedside table, only a few feet
away, he finally discovered that Bodie had brought him something.

The size of a small aubergine, it was a chocolate Easter egg. Apparently
hollow, its two hemispheres were held together by a broad, blue ribbon,
tied in a huge bow. Grinning to himself, Doyle wryly contemplated his
partner's gift. The gesture was typically Bodie; who else would offer
chocolate to a legendarily disinterested man as an incentive to re-open
communication between them?

Not that Doyle had been the one to close Bodie out; just the opposite.
Bodie had been broodingly introspective for several days following a
fire-fight involving civilians. A young man had fallen to a bullet from
Doyle's gun, which had resulted in Doyle being placed on suspension, and
Bodie being relegated to Archives until the inquiry should reach a
conclusion regarding Doyle's actions. While never happy when the
instrument of another person's death, Doyle had no doubt that he had
performed according to his brief as a CI5 operative--and as Bodie's
partner. Had he hesitated, it would not now be the boy who was dead, but
Bodie. There was no doubt in his mind at all that he had acted in the only
way left open to him.

He had submitted his report both in writing and before Cowley, who had
taken every word down on his tape machine. Following that, there had been
nothing he could do but await judgment; a tedious situation he had coped
with more than once. He had missed Bodie's company; even knowing that his
partner was still at Cowley's beck and call. They had spoken a time or two
on the telephone; awkward, uneasy conversations that Doyle had found
hugely frustrating. Nor had he really expected Bodie to come round--even
to visit, much less to spend the night. While their relationship was open
knowledge within the Squad, it was not a topic to be flogged to the
exuberant press, and there were too many of their kind nosing about to
take any chances. Cowley had made that very clear to them when the matter
had originally come up.

Still, being logical and civic-minded did not ease the loneliness of
Doyle's nights; he was developing an ache for Bodie that was sorely
testing his resolve to keep CI5 uppermost in his thoughts.

It was amazing, really, how much a bloke's life could change in a year.

******

Easter Sunday, a year ago: it had been a total muck up, in more ways than
the literal. A routine minding op had gone horrendously wrong, and only
Bodie and Doyle's swift actions had saved the remnants of the situation.
While they had come out of it relatively unscathed, two of their attackers
had been killed and the Canadian separatist under their protection had
been injured. Arriving on the scene within moments, Cowley had demanded an
immediate report. Muddied from an evasive dive into a puddle, Doyle had
sharply informed his boss that he would have a shower and change first.
Having been the one to bodily drag his partner to his feet, Bodie was in
little better shape and had seconded Doyle's vehement words
wholeheartedly. Thwarted, but unprepared to indulge in a public row,
Cowley had conceded, arranging to meet them an hour later at HQ.

In the men's locker room, Doyle furiously stripped off, flinging his shirt
onto the wooden bench. He slowed a little when he began to peel off his
jeans. The sound of Bodie's hiss brought his head up. Following the line
of the stony blue gaze, Doyle glanced down at his abdomen, unsurprised at
the bright red welt that stretched from the inside right: rim of the
pelvic bone halfway to the pubic hair arrowing toward his groin.
Displaying his teeth in a mirthless smile, Doyle pressed a thumb under the
flattened metal rivet which strengthened the seam of his change pocket,
and said, "Deflected a bullet. Must've ricocheted or I'd be wearing this
in my navel, I expect."

The attempted humour was utterly ignored. Bodie said flatly, "You should
have that seen to, mate."

"Nah," Doyle replied cheerily. "'S not that bad. I'll just find someone to
kiss It better." With that he removed the slip of elastIcated nylon that
passed for underwear, and his socks, and took himself to one of the shower
stalls.

He had only Just got the cold and hot water mixed to his satisfaction,
when a large, imposing body slid in beside him. "Will I do?" Bodie asked,
and dropped to his knees. Before Doyle could argue, a warm, wet tongue
swathed a path from belly to groin, eradicating every vestige of pain and
replacing it with luscious, unbelievable pleasure.

Afterward, Doyle wanted nothing more than to return the kindness, sparing
no thought for what effect this unprecedented activity might have on their
partnership--and friendship. With Bodie held limp in his arms a few
minutes later, he experienced a curious sense of power and raw
affection--and a very keen realization of responsibility, as well. In less
than an hour, Doyle's mood had cannoned from one of barely leashed
irascibility to one of buoyant optimism. If Bodie's introduction of sex to
their relationship could achieve that, then, Doyle reasoned, it must be a
good thing.

Within five minutes, the two men had towelled off and dressed, and
reported to Cowley as ordered.

On the way back to Doyle's flat that night, neither commented directly on
what had taken place. Yet Doyle did not question his own motives when he
asked Bodie to stay.

Neither did Bodie: he stayed.

******

In the months that followed, they continued to have sex at every discreet
opportunity. Their living arrangements went unchanged at first; sometimes
they slept over, most often they did not. Entire days outside the job
would pass when they saw each other not at all. Doyle never questioned his
partner about what Bodie did then; he did not want to know if Bodie was
still seeing other people.

For himself, life went on much as always--with one major alteration: the
elimination of other sexual partners. Although Doyle might have felt
compelled to deny it aloud, Bodie was all he needed. In fact, it galled
him sometimes to realize that even when they had been apart for long
spells at a time, he had no desire to look elsewhere: Bodie's attentions
were worth waiting for.

In those first months, he didn't question where they were going or
ultimately where they might end up. First and foremost, he trusted Bodie.
Whatever happened, he knew Bodie would guard Doyle's heart every bit as
efficiently as he guarded Doyle's back. That meant Bodie would not hurt
him--even if only by not flaunting nights spent with other people.

Doyle could live with that. If, occasionally, he yearned for more, reality
readily reminded him that he already had far in excess of anything he'd
previously experienced. Yet he was also well aware that the day must come
when he and Bodie discussed just what it was they were doing, for it
certainly surpassed the expediency of a quick wank, and often damn near
approached full-blown romance.

While they kept the depth of their relationship strictly separate from
their job, it was not a secret to anyone who cared to look. Early on they
had decided to be scrupulous in informing the stand-by dispatcher where
they could be reached--and if that happened to be all night at one flat,
then that was where they were listed. No one questioned them about it, but
word soon spread that 4.5 and 3.7 were spending an inordinate amount of
time in one another's company. Some mild ragging followed, but nothing
they couldn't shrug off.

Until Cowley called them into his office one day in October.

******

Bodie and Doyle sat unmoving in the uncomfortable chairs situated before
Cowley's desk. The details of their most recent assignment had been
unceremoniously dropped on the polished rosewood surface only seconds
before. Neither man had responded by word or gesture, either to their
duties as outlined or the unambiguous dismissal of their presence.

Curtly, Cowley asked, "Questions? Three-seven? Four-five?"

Lips compressed, Bodie muttered, "Not a question, sir. Just--"

"Yes, Bodie?"

Doyle held his breath, staring down at the floor as he waited for Bodie to
speak. Cowley had just outlined a "stud job" for Bodie, with Doyle acting
as his liaison.

"I can't do it." Bodie sat stiffly upright, eyes fixed somewhere past
Cowley's right shoulder.

"Can't do what, Bodie?" Cowley asked patiently.

"This op. You'll have to give it to someone else."

"Indeed?" Removing his glasses, Cowley murmured, "I don't recall this
being an organization of optional participation."

"Sorry, sir," Bodie said. Chin lifted stubbornly, he went on, "I *won't*
do it."

"I see." Head cocked contemplatively to one side, the controller of CI5
turned pale blue eyes on Doyle. "All right, then. Doyle, you'll take over
Bodie's position. I'll find another agent--perhaps, Murphy--to take
over--"

Doyle spoke sharply. "No, sir."

"Doyle?"

"I'd rather not."

"You'd 'rather not'." Cowley's apparent toleration dissolved in a burst of
anger. "That is not how CI5 operates, gentlemen. Unless the pair of you
have excellent reasons for refusing this--"

"Come off it!" Doyle exclaimed. "You know why we're refusing. You *know*
Bodie and I are--" He brought himself to an abrupt stop, chagrined to have
volunteered so much with so little provocation.

A tiny smile lurked at the corners of Cowley's mouth. "Yes, Doyle?"

When Doyle remained sullenly silent, Bodie said quietly, "It isn't
something you'd ask of married operatives."

Cowley folded his hands on the desk in front of him. "Married, Bodie? I
don't remember seeing a request for permission to wed from either of you."

Goaded beyond endurance, Doyle snarled hotly, "And you aren't bloody
likely to! You know about us; you've probably known since the first time
we--we...."

Unintimidated by Doyle's outraged glare, Cowley remarked mildly, "Not the
first time, no."

"We've made no secret of it," Bodie said evenly. "But we haven't been
stupid, either.'

"Aye. Surprisingly enough, you haven't," Cowley agreed. He looked steadily
from one man to the other. "I'll rely on you to keep it that way." With
that, he retrieved the two files and moved them to the bottom of the pile
that stood on one side of his writing pad.

Bewildered and disquieted, Doyle asked, "So what do you want of us? Are
you saying that--?"

With a peremptory wave of his hand, Cowley silenced him. "That's quite
enough, Doyle." He took the top folder from the stack of files and opened
it. "This next project will probably be no more to your liking, but for
totally different reasons."

In a daze, the two agents heard the older man out, jotted down pertinent
information, and were prompt to take their leave once dismissed.

Driving over the Thames heading south toward Gatwick a few minutes later,
Doyle said unhappily to his unusually quiet companion, "So what d'you
think that was all about?"

Shifting to a lower gear as traffic slowed, Bodie answered confidently,
"It was a test. Cowley wants to know how much our sleeping together is
going to affect our work."

"It won't. That is, if it was going to, it would've done by now."

"Hasn't it?" Bodie cast him a fleeting, unreadable look. "We just balked
at an assignment we would never have quibbled over before."

Darkly surveying the choppy surface of the river, Doyle said, "So he'll
have to ponce off some other blokes from now on." When only silence
greeted this statement, he turned restively toward his partner. "D'you--?
Does it bother you that it came out like that?"

To his surprise, Bodie grinned. "If it'll keep you out of someone else's
bed, I'm hardly likely to complain, Ray."

As this was the first indication of possessiveness Bodie had exhibited,
Doyle was somewhat taken aback. He ventured softly, "You don't have any
reason to, mare." He hesitated. "And I think you should know: it goes both
ways."

This announcement seemed to please Bodie. "Reckon I can handle that," he
said equably, a hint of a smile belying his indifference.

******

Since then, they had settled into as much of a routine as their chosen
mode of living would allow. Doyle was absurdly pleased with their
arrangement, and sensed that Bodie was, as well--even though his partner's
tendency toward closed-mouthedness had not changed. In all their years
together, Bodie had rarely spoken about himself. Doyle attributed that to
Bodie's background and the fact that there were unpleasant memories he'd
rather never own up to, let alone discuss.

He had learned not to pry, hoping one day Bodie would open up to him
without prompting. Yet, if that day never dawned, Doyle would not be
unduly bothered. He had Bodie's devotion, which he suspected went far
deeper than Bodie probably liked. Knowing Bodie as he did, Doyle fully
recognized the worth of his partner's unquestioning gift. For reasons
Doyle could not adequately explain to himself, Bodie had chosen him to be
the most important person in his world, and would do anything to ensure
Doyle's welfare. No matter how far gone he might be--in passion or
rage--Bodie had never transgressed the boundary that demarcated Doyle's
well-being from Doyle's discomfort.

This restraint gave Doyle a very real power over his partner; he
acknowledged that fact, and determined never to misuse Bodie's
vulnerability. Only as a result of a misunderstanding did he once fail in
this ambition.

******

It was a bleak, cold day in January. In bed after a week apart, Bodie and
Doyle were untouched by the cutting winter wind howling outside,
diligently radiating a very special heat of their own making.

On his back, Doyle held his partner close to him, accommodating the
strong, downward strokes that drove against his abdomen. Bodie pressed
nearer, his mouth hot and wet against Doyle's throat, teeth stinging where
they nipped tender skin. Legs wrapped around Bodie's waist, Doyle
yearningly raised himself at the same moment that Bodie shifted up and
bore down--and almost found himself impaled upon Bodie's passion.

Holding himself mercilessly still, Bodie raised his head, eyes raking
Doyle's startled face. This, like love, was another aspect of their
relationship that had yet to be discussed.

Uncertain how to respond, Doyle decided to turn the awkward moment into a
joke. "Sorry, mate," he whispered hoarsely. "I'm saving that for the man I
marry."

To Doyle's dismay, Bodie paled as though he had been struck. "Right," he
said gruffly, and bent forward to cover Doyle's mouth in a long savage
kiss. For an instant, Doyle tried to break free--but only for an instant.
Where Bodie and lovemaking were concerned, he suffered a singular lack of
control. No one had ever played him so expertly, nor taken him so high.

When at last he had his wits about him again, sheltering Bodie's head in
the hollow of his shoulder, Doyle knew he should explain his words. He had
not meant his silly statement to be taken as a rejection; in fact, despite
a certain understandable apprehension, there had been the very real hope
that Bodie would boldly stake his claim. Yet loving Bodie as he did, did
not allow Doyle to place chains about his lover, and asking Bodie for
long-term commitment would be an effective way of doing that. Cowardly
allowing the moment to slip away, Doyle nestled nearer, kissing the damply
waving hair on the crown of Bodie's head.

******

That had been three and a half months ago. In that time, Doyle had toyed
with the idea of forcing a confrontation with Bodie regarding their
feelings, desires and hopes for the future. It went no further than that,
however, for Doyle accepted that he and Bodie would never have more than
the present. What they shared suited both of them as near to perfection as
any relationship could; given their individual personalities, perhaps more
so. Foolish, really, to want more. And anyway, Doyle had to admit to
himself that Bodie's love would never be any more substantial simply for
having been spoken.

So why couldn't he leave it alone?

Surely it was not unreasonable to want some tangible token of their
relationship--something a little more lasting than a chocolate Easter egg.
Yawning hugely, Doyle shoved his pillow against the headboard and dragged
himself up to rest against it. He'd hoped to give Bodie something on the
anniversary date of their "first time." Cowley and Her Majesty's
Government had conspired against him, however, as Bodie had been otherwise
engaged scouring his arms contacts for information regarding a possible
influx of specialized weapons, while Doyle had been consigned to a spell
in Archives following up leads Bodie had suggested he research.

In a very short couple of weeks, of course, their respective roles had
been virtually reversed, and it was Bodie who had been damned to haunt the
computers whilst Doyle sat about, restlessly awaiting the outcome of the
inquiry.

Tucking the duvet round him with one hand, he reached for the egg with the
other. The fulsome aroma of chocolate was almost overwhelming in the cool
morning air. Turning the egg this way and that to study the flowery
details etched on the pregnant exterior, Doyle amused himself with the
thought that only his devoutly areligious lover would favour Easter over
all the special days of the year.

Gently tugging one end of the bow from its knot, Doyle wondered why Bodie
had come and gone without so much as a 'hello.' It irritated him, for he
longed to talk with his partner, to learn the cause of the edgy remoteness
that had formed his mood over the last few days. Quite simply, he missed
Bodie, far more than he would ever like to admit.

The ribbon came free and slithered to the duvet as Doyle lifted the top
half of the egg to peer inside. Clucking softly to himself, he glanced
over the array of smaller chocolates, identifying a half dozen different
types in the first sweep.

At that moment the alarm on his bedside table went off, causing him to
startle. The confectionery bowl tipped in his hand as he lunged over to
switch the noise off, spilling sweets into his lap.

Amidst silence once more, Doyle righted himself and immediately set about
restoring the errant chocolates to their home, cursing softly at the
vision of huge, oily stains on the bedding. In his haste, he almost missed
the glint of metal and the flare of bright colour, hidden as they were
beneath the candy rabble. Worming his fingers between small variegated
shapes, Doyle uncovered the astounding objects and plucked them out with
the fastidiousness of a small child. Eyes over-wide and forest green, he
stared at the pair of rings that emerged. Held together by an improbable
tartan ribbon, one band was yellow gold with an emerald stone, the other
white gold mounted with a garnet. Birthstones: emerald for May; garnet for
January.

Heart in his throat, Doyle tried to swallow and found he could not.
Recalling himself to his precarious state long enough to gather the rest
of the chocolates into the two halves of the egg, he removed them to the
bedside table. His attention immediately returned to the mystery of the
rings.

What could Bodie mean by this?

Disgusted to find his hand unsteady, Doyle slid his finger into the yellow
gold band, turning the emerald so that it sat squarely upright. The ring
fit perfectly.

"You lunatic bastard," he whispered, and blinked roughly to combat the
sharp stinging in his eyes.

In the next moment he was rising, bedclothes falling away from his hips
like foam in the wake of a ship. He wrested the ring from his finger and
set it, still joined to its mate, on the bedside table.

Bodie must have thought he would need time to think on this; to consider
every possible ramification of such an offering. Well, he didn't. It was
likely that Bodie had returned to his flat, there to await Doyle's certain
visit. In that case, he wouldn't have long--

In the process of reaching for his jeans, Doyle went stock-still at the
muted noise that came from below stairs. He couldn't be positive at this
distance, but that had sounded very like the clunk of the oven door
closing. And who else would be making free with his oven but Bodie?

Glancing round sharply, Doyle's gaze fell on the two hemispheres of the
great chocolate egg, and the tartan-bound rings lying beside it. A slow
smile stole across his mouth, echoing the speculative gleam in bright
green eyes.

******

It was Bodie, of course. He stood in the dining room, facing out the large
window, hands deep in the pockets of his leather jacket.

Unheard, Doyle entered the room, tightening the sash of the silk robe at
his waist. His eyes rested fondly on his partner's back, taking in the
defensive posture; the too-stiff lines drawn from neck to hip. He wanted
to say, "It'll be all right, mate."

But how could he, before he knew precisely what Bodie was up to?

Instead, he asked very quietly, "What're you doing here skulking about?"
The least hint of stifled movement assured him that Bodie had not expected
him down so soon. Doyle went on, "D'you know what time it is?"

Smoothly pivoting on heel, Bodie faced him with a noncommittal expression.
"Sure. Thought you might want a run."

"A run? Not today, mate; I've got something else lined up." Doyle raked a
hand through his hair, which only added to the disorder of already tumbled
curls. He sniffed exaggeratedly. "What's that, then? Smells good."

Searching blue eyes slid away. "Something for the day," Bodie replied
colourlessly. "Coffee, too. Help yourself."

"You're too kind, sunshine," Doyle said with affectionate sarcasm.
Stepping haltingly past his partner, he pushed his way into the kitchen.
Surrounded by the close warmth therein, he was assailed by the beguiling
scent of freshly heated hot cross buns. "Christ, Bodie," he exclaimed with
unfeigned delight, snatching one off the baking tin, which was cooling on
the sideboard. "You're a hero."

Bodie propped himself against the wall, head cocked to one side. "Are you
all right?"

Taking a huge bite out of a very warm roll, Doyle mumbled, "Perfectly."

"You're walking funny."

"Am not." Doyle collected a mug from the cupboard and filled it with
fragrant, steaming coffee.

"Saw you."

"You're imagining things. Didn't you have any of these? They're
fantastic." He bent over to pull the jug of milk out of the refrigerator.

"I had one," Bodie replied unenthusiastically.

"Only one!" Doyle sloshed a goodly amount of milk into his cup. "You
sickening for something?"

Broad shoulders twitched in an abbreviated shrug. "And a few on the way
over."

"Now there's a surprise," Doyle chided, taking another huge mouthful of
sweet bread, and following it with a long, appreciative drink of coffee.
His gaze went distant and as inconspicuously as possible he shifted from
one leg to the other, inelegantly twisting his hips as he did so.

Attention riveted, Bodie unfolded his arms and straightened up. "Ray?
What---?"

With an insouciance that disputed the adrenaline rushing in his veins,
Doyle slid a hand under the hem of his robe. Careful to leave his nether
regions clearly in view, he tucked a finger into his pants and made a few
adjustments. Glancing up innocently, he raised his hand to his mouth and
lapped at the single, brown-daubed digit with the tip of his tongue.

Bodie stared as though he'd been poleaxed.

"Hmm," Doyle murmured throatily. "Cadbury's finest."

"What?"

Within seconds, Bodie stood before him, uninhibitedly pulling the flaps of
Doyle's robe apart. He gripped the elasticated band of his underwear with
both hands and drew it away from Doyle's skin, staring down into
chocolate-scented depths.

"Bit personal, that," Doyle pointed out, unperturbed.

"Jesus," Bodie breathed. He bent over and pushed his face into the
intimate realm where several small, melting chocolates surrounded Doyle's
genitals. Doyle moaned as the other man's tongue rasped over him, not with
a lover's unselfish adoration, but with the feral urgency of someone too
long unfed. His knees buckled and he was forced to cling to Bodie's
shoulders for support. It was soon more than he could bear, the snuffling,
slurping sounds as arousing as the all-encompassing attentions of Bodie's
wanton mouth. Before he could utter anything intelligible, Bodie had
burrowed deeper, probing at the joining of groin and inner thigh, his nose
nudging imperatively at Doyle's testicles. There came a startling
crunching sound, and Doyle squeaked, his fingers digging into Bodie's
back.

Licking his lips, Bodie surfaced just long enough to inform Doyle
reassuringly, "Hazelnuts," before returning to his self-appointed task.

"Stop, Bodie." Doyle seized his lover's head between both hands. "Bodie,
please. I can't--" He tugged sharply to emphasize his sincerity, even
though it was one of the hardest things he'd ever done.

Bodie paused to lift heavy-lidded eyes to his partner. "What's wrong,
Ray?"

"No more. Need you to stop."

Bodie tipped his head toward Doyle's tumescence. "I don't think mind and
body are in agreement here."

"Too bloody true," Doyle groaned. He pulled at Bodie's upper arms until
the other man stood alongside him. "But I want to talk to you, and I can't
think while you're down there chewing away at me."

Bodie grinned seraphically. "Hell of a place to store your choccies,
mate."

Doyle leaned heavily against his partner's stolid frame. "So I've just
learned." He scanned Bodie's relaxed, open features. "You're a mess," he
said without reproach, wiping a finger over a small brown smudge on
Bodie's chin. "Speaking of chocolates--you know why gay blokes are called
chocolate bandits, don't you?"

"That's the reason you made me sto--? All right, all right." This, as
Doyle glared at him. Some of the humour went out of Bodie's face. "Yeah,
of course I do. And all those other stupid names like turd burglars and
gutstickers: because we--" He broke off abruptly, more than a little taken
aback as the probable significance of Doyle's question registered. "You've
never stuck something up there, Doyle?"

Lips close to Bodie's ear, Doyle whispered meaningfully, "Was hoping I
could leave that to you, mate."

Bodie pulled a little away so he could stare hard into Doyle's eyes. "Are
you saying--?"

"Yep." Doyle raised his hand, the fingers guarding his palm unfurling to
reveal the two rings, no longer linked by the tartan ribbon. "Been saving
meself remember?"

Lowering his head so that Doyle could not see his expression, Bodie
commented, "'For the man you marry.' I remember." Dark blue eyes flicked
up. "Was afraid you didn't mean me."

Doyle flinched. "Because I said that? I ... Well, I was just trying to
make a joke of it; didn't mean to put you off." He offered a crooked
smile. "I wouldn't've stopped you, if you'd tried to carry on."

A brow lifted skeptically. "Even without marriage?" Bodie asked
sardonically.

That elicited a snort. "'Course. You don't have to say you love me for me
to go to bed with you, Bodie." Doyle rubbed his stubbled cheek against
Bodie's smooth jaw. "In case you haven't noticed."

Blunt-tipped fingers slid into richly auburn curls. "I had. But you really
do want to be permanently exclusive with me?"

"Yep."

"Just us; no more whoring around?"

Doyle pinned his partner with a haughty gaze. "I haven't slept with anyone
else since last Easter."

"No?" This news appeared to discomfit Bodie. "I... Well, I--"

"Never mind, Bodie," Doyle said firmly, folding his arms around the other
man. "We didn't make any prom--"

"Raymond, Raymond," Bodie interrupted admonishingly. "You can be
shockingly thick sometimes, y'know that?" He put a finger alongside
Doyle's cheek, lightly stroking the bristly skin. "For eight years, I
lusted after you. Now that I've got you, d'you seriously believe I'd make
do with anything less?"

A little overcome, Doyle countered, "You never made out it was that big a
deal."

Bodie kissed the tip of his nose. "Neither did you, as I recall."

"Didn't know for sure what you wanted then," Doyle confessed.

"And you do now?"

A knowing certainty spread across Doyle's face. "Other than me on my
knees? Yeah, I think I can puzzle it out."

Bodie propped his forehead against Doyle's. "And what do you want, Ray?"

"That's easy," Doyle replied promptly, taking advantage of Bodie's
closeness to rub enticingly against him. "You. Just you."

"You're not asking for much," Bodie said wryly. "I mean, take a long look:
this is as good as it gets."

"Stop fishing; you'll do." He took Bodie's left hand in his and held it
between them. Poising the ring with the blood-red stone between forefinger
and thumb, he began solemnly, 'With this ring, I--" Self-conscious, he
broke into a grin. "Well, y'know, Bodie: the lot." He slid the white gold
band smoothly onto Bodie's last finger but one.

"Such a way with words you have, Doyle." Bodie smothered a laugh. He
gestured to Doyle to pass him the other ring, which Doyle immediately did,
trying, but failing, to cover a flush that lit both of his cheeks with a
rosy slow.

Imitating his partner's actions with aplomb, Bodie grasped Doyle's hand
and guided the emerald ring onto one slim finger. "Okay, then: the lot,
mate."

Doyle snickered, the sound suddenly lost in Bodie's seeking mouth. The
kiss was long and lush, and hungrily savoured by both men.

When it broke at last, Bodie said breathlessly, "Sure cuts down on the
ceremony that way."

Doyle waggled his brows lewdly. "Why waste time on words, when we can--?"

"Don't say it," Bodie implored dramatically. "Mannerless lout."

"Would I?" Doyle simpered, pulling Bodie toward the door. "So... Who's
having a dip in the fudge pot first, then?"

Grimacing grotesquely to keep from breaking into a smile, Bodie
complained, "Jesus, Doyle. Isn't this the least bit romantic to you?"

Doyle stopped at the foot of the stairs and gave Bodie a crushing hug.
"Better than romantic, Bodie; this is real." He conferred a sweetly loving
kiss on Bodie's parted lips.

******

Upstairs in the bedroom, however, Doyle hesitated in the removal of his
robe, furtively watching Bodie slip off his shirt and trousers. His
earlier arousal had quite gone by the time Bodie's genitals, heavy with
anticipation, came into view. Discarding his robe all at once, Doyle
climbed onto the bed and scooted beneath the covers.

Naked, save for his socks, Bodie sat on the edge of the mattress nearer
Doyle and began to strip them off, as well. "We don't have to do this,
Ray," Bodie said, his voice low and filled with understanding.

The breath caught in Doyle's throat, briefly interfering with his ability
to speak. "I--"

Bodie tossed the second sock onto the chair next to its mate. Making no
effort to touch Doyle, he angled sideways to face him. "It bothers you,
doesn't it?"

Doyle gave his head a definite shake, saying, "No, I--" But the acceptance
in rich blue eyes gazing so tenderly upon him aborted the lie unspoken.
"Yeah," he breathed. "A bit."

Reaching out, Bodie cupped his partner's round, wilful face with one large
hand. "So why push it? I'm not complaining."

A lop-sided grin took some of the uncertainty from Doyle's expression.
"Fucking's what you do, isn't it--when you get married." He turned his
mouth into Bodie's palm, giving it a slow lick.

"It's what other people do, you mean. We can do what we like."

Doyle pulled Bodie's hand away. "Do you want to fuck me, then?"

There was no point in denying it; Bodie nodded. "But I don't have to. Not
if it puts you off."

Baring his teeth, Doyle reminded him smartly, "You know better than to try
and coddle me, Bodie. I'm here because I want to be."

Bodie smiled very softly and bent over his partner. "I guess I still find
that a little difficult to believe. Love you, Ray."

Since this was something Bodie had only ever mumbled at the height of
passion before, Doyle soaked the words up, their essence suffusing him
with a soul-deep warmth. He curled forward and rested his cheek against
Bodie's thigh. "Feeling's mutual." He tipped his head back and looked up
into Bodie's face, unaware of the picture of soft invitation he made. Eyes
slanted half-shut, mouth relaxed and still a little swollen from Bodie's
kisses, he was everything Bodie had ever desired. And now he was Bodie's
for the taking.

"You go first," Doyle said huskily.

Bodie's heart-rate took off. Schooling his voice to normality with an
effort, he argued, "Why me?"

"Why not?" Doyle said with impeccable logic. "You bought the rings--even
though I will pay you back for the one."

Bodie leant forward, cradling Doyle's shoulders in his arms as he laid the
slighter man flat on his back upon the mattress. "'Course you will."

He kissed Doyle with loving thoroughness, hands coursing over starkly
pronounced collarbone and ribs, thumbs gently arcing over tightly
contracted nipples. His mouth touched Doyle's eyelids, the tip of his
nose, then trailed across his jaw to the velvet curve of the nearest
earlobe. Downward he moved, mouthing and licking silken flesh, reveling in
the sleep-concentrated taste of the man he loved. With fingers spread wide
over Doyle's ribcage, his hands rode the inhalations which raised the bony
chest high, then dropped with the outgoing breaths that formed the
vulnerable trough of the concave abdomen.

Doyle was squirming by the time his partner reached his belly, hips
heaving upward to redirect that moist, quicksilver pressure toward the
source of greatest need. But Bodie was taking his time, each touch
worshipfully bestowed. "Bo-die," Doyle begged, his hands pushing against
the solid shoulders to force his partner lower.

He gasped his relief when Bodie finally obliged him, insides roiling with
molten pressure. This was the gentle, knowing lover he was familiar with,
taking him so effortlessly toward his goal. When Bodie broke away without
warning, Doyle growled his frustration.

"Hang about, mate," Bodie reassured him. He stretched to his full length
to get at the drawer in Doyle's bedside table. "Should've had this ready,"
he muttered, his voice endearingly hoarse and the slightest bit trembly.

Doyle opened his eyes, taking in the sight of his pale-skinned partner
kneeling beside him, engaged in a struggle with the small cap to the tube
of lubricant. His heated gaze dropped to the column of lust rising between
Bodie's thighs, long and thick and very intimidating. The thought of that
shoved up his arse gave him a shiver and raised tiny prickles all over.

Bodie caught him staring as he squeezed a goodly portion of clear gel onto
his fingers. Unsmiling, he said, "It's not too late to say 'no.'"

Reading those blue eyes as though they were a long-favoured book, Doyle
simply shook his head. "Been too late for a long time. Just get on with
it, will you?" He turned onto his side, back toward Bodie, one leg crooked
upward.

A warm mouth pressed against the nape of his neck at the same time that a
cool, slick finger probed between his buttocks.

"About those rings," Doyle whispered raggedly.

"Yeah?" Bodie's teeth tugged at an earlobe.

"You did keep the receipt, didn't you?"

A series of quick warm breaths against Doyle's shoulder betrayed Bodie's
amusement. "Yes."

"Cost that much, did they?" A finger pushed into him, stilling the air in
Doyle's lungs. With his entire being concentrated on that intrusive
presence, he was taken aback when a tentative resurgence of interest
sparked in his groin.

"You can afford it," Bodie assured him, adding another finger to the
first, and working them both carefully for a moment. He crept closer until
his body covered Doyle's like a second skin. "The best doesn't come cheap,
y'know." He pulled his hand free.

Misinterpreting the removal of Bodie's fingers, Doyle pushed himself
backward, seeking to restore Bodie's touch. "The best won't come at all,
if it doesn't put itself where--" He froze as Bodie entered him, biting
his lip until he tasted blood.

"You--were--saying?" Bodie grunted.

But Doyle could not answer, shocked at the sensation of being filled, at
the ripping discomfort, at the incongruous lick of pleasure that shot into
his wilted manhood from deep inside. Bodie did that, he realized, with
some disbelief.

"Ray?" Bodie asked roughly. "You want me to stop? Am I hurting--"

Dragged out of his self-centered reverie, Doyle snarled, "No!
It's--Christ, Bodie, just do it, will yo--! Ah!" Fe muffled the wholly
involuntary cry by turning his face into the pillow. Bodie had done as
instructed, with barely controlled fervour. Torn between awareness of his
partner's groaning rapture, and his own unforeseen responsiveness, Doyle
was just beginning to soar to the rhythm of his partner's movements, when
Bodie gasped aloud and gave one, hard final thrust--and left Doyle
suspended and fiercely aching.

"Bodie!" So far gone that he could do nothing else, Doyle let go his
death-grip on Bodie's thigh and reached frantically between his own
legs--there to collide with Bodie's square-cut hand, which batted his
shaking fingers away.

Taken into Bodie's warm and sure grasp, Doyle quickly regained lost
ground. In fact, it was over almost at once; yet for all its brevity it
was cataclysmic as any sexual release he had ever known. And then he was
cradled in Bodie's arms for long, boneless moments of recovery.

He was drowsing when Bodie gently separated them. After a quick mop-up
with tissues, Bodie manhandled Doyle back into his arms, taking his mouth
in a lingering kiss. "Sorry, mate," he whispered. "Didn't mean to leave
you behind."

Doyle conjured a ghostly chuckle. "Almost didn't. I'll want to try that
again--when you're not so fast off the mark."

A relieved sigh brushed across Doyle's cheek. "My bedroom credibility is
in ashes," Bodie acknowledged. "Couldn't help meself, mate."

Propping himself up so he could take in Bodie's expression, Doyle was
unprepared for the guileless, trusting facade that greeted him. "I won't
tell," he vowed, making no effort to conceal his affection. "You look
bloody-well shagged out. Have a little kip, why don't you? I'll be here."

Bodie curved his arms around his partner and dragged him close again. "And
then it's your turn. I'm looking forward to that."

Doyle gave a sinuous wriggle. "Yeah. With chocolates."

"What?" Alarm flickered in Bodie's sleepy eyes.

"Like you did to me," Doyle said, his voice low and sultry. "That was
something, mate. You're going to like it. Promise."

Bodie shuddered. "Christ, my very own chocolate bandit."

Wrinkling his nose, Doyle applied his teeth to Bodie's earlobe, then
soothed the tiny hurt with the silken swab of a penitent tongue. "Nah,
you're the one with the sweet tooth. I'll have to be your...chutney
ferret."

"Skinny thing like you? Chuff adder, more like."

"Then you," Doyle retorted, a wide grin on his face, "can be my
windjammer, as well."

Bodie pursed his lips with counterfeit primness. "How about dead-eye dick,
instead?"

"Arse brigand, more like," Doyle chortled.

"Enough!" Bodie entreated, his voice laced with irrepressible humour.

Settling back down, Doyle murmured, "Haven't thanked you for the choccies
yet, y'know."

"Doyle." The tone was one of warning.

"'M serious. Best Easter pressie I've ever had."

Bodie squeezed him tightly. "Me, too. Thought it'd make a good anniversary
gift."

"Anniversary?" Doyle shook his head. "That was three weeks ago, Bodie.
March 26th, remember?"

"'Course, I do. Which was Easter, last year. It's Easter today, right?"

"And we've been busy." He made himself comfortable upon Bodie's shoulder.
"I've missed you."

"And you. Would've been round sooner, but I had to get my courage up."
Bodie took a deep breath. "By the way: you're off suspension. The Cow
wants you in tomorrow at 0800 hours, sharpish."

"Great," Doyle said drily. "Just when I was getting used to being a man of
leisure." He brought Bodie's face down to meet his lips. After a slow,
languid kiss, he said hopefully, "You think we might learn how to talk
more, y'know, about us?"

"Hmm."

"Is that yes or no?"

"Hmm-hmm."

Not satisfied with this less than decisive response, Doyle decided to
employ more unignorable tactics.

A blue eye shot open as a gliding tongue tip and soft lips mounted a
ticklish assault on Bodie's left nipple. "God, Doyle!" Bodie grabbed thick
clumps of hair in both hands and carefully pulled Doyle's head away from
his chest. "Worst than a bloody dog with a bone, you are." His fingers,
distracted as always by Doyle's lush hair, began to wander. "Okay, I'll
try. That's the best I can do." He swung a thumb down to caress the
pleased smile forming on Doyle's mouth. "What about that kip you
suggested?"

Doyle shook his head free and stared intently into Bodie's eyes.

"Like that, is it?" Bodie asked indulgently. "All right, then." He rolled
heavily onto his back, arms and legs spreadeagled. "Bring on the
chocolates, sunshine."

Doyle did not require a second invitation.

-- THE END --

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