The Professionals Circuit Archive - Angel Delight	  Angel Delight

 

by Rob

  
 (The sequel is Green Wellies)

 Scraping the last of the packet of cheese sauce over the cauliflower,
Doyle shook a little parmesan over the top of the whole thing and bunged
it thankfully into the oven before filling the saucepan with water and
abandoning it to its fate with its mates in the sink. He'd had enough of
domesticity for this evening already, it was definitely Bodie's turn -
when the bugger deigned to show up. Take your eye off him for three weeks
while you went chasing rainbows on Merseyside and the flat looked like a
shambles when you got back.

He was busy on undercover work, they'd told him at Headquarters -synonym
for laziness more like!

He went to have a shower. If Bodie wasn't back when that cauliflower
cheese was ready he sure as hell wasn't keeping it hot for him.

Soaping himself sensuously, a tiny smile played around his mouth. Maybe he
wouldn't keep his supper hot but...god, it had been a long three weeks.
Who would have thought he'd miss that argumentative bastard quite so
badly! Some nights it had been almost impossible to sleep, wanting that
solid back and reassuring warmth in the bed beside him.

The dirt and grime of Liverpool finally removed from his person he gave
his hair a thorough rub dry and twisted a towel around his waist to stroll
through into the living room and switch on the stereo while he dressed. 

The sound of a key in the lock brought him swinging round, mouth parting
in an anticipatory smile, an old, familiar hunger piercing his gut
already.

On the threshold Bodie paused, drinking in the sight of his lover, every
lean, damp inch of him alive in the light of the single lamp. His own
mouth opened, responsive to that unvoiced hunger.

Once his eyes managed to get past the gleaming, blue welcome, Doyle felt
them positively bulge as they took in his partner's total and devastating
ensemble. 

Black leather studded jacket nonchalantly unzipped to reveal short black
tee-shirt, supple black leather trousers tucked into knee-high black
boots, the outfit completed by huge, black leather gauntlets.

Doyle's jaw dropped visibly, eyes lighting with an evil delight. "What'n
hell have they done to you?"

Milking the ridiculous outfit for every ounce of drama, Bodie struck a
pose, legs parted in a wide, arrogant stance, thumbs braced into neat
waistband, gauntlets akimbo.

"Watch your tongue, sunshine, or I'll smash your face in."

Doyle's eyes widened, momentarily seeing Bodie as an outsider might see
him, the sheer power of the man, the aura of menace that had sometimes
stopped even the toughest guys in their tracks. A little shiver ran down
his spine; once or twice he'd had Bodie mad at him; it wasn't something
you begged for.

He chuckled throatily over his unexpected arousal. "Hell's Angel or Angel
Delight, ducky?" Then, as Bodie took a threatening step towards him, he
stepped back in mock dismay.

"Don' want no trouble, mister," he whined, gutter-urchin voice and
instinctive cringe realistically reproduced. "Don' 'urt me."

"Cummere," Bodie's eyes gleamed, mirth overlaying a growing fire at the
sight of Doyle's near-nakedness.

"I never done nuffin," Doyle snivelled, grinning hugely as he retreated
behind the sofa. "T'wasn't me, ya big bully. Pick on someone yer own
size."

Bodie made a lunge for him and missed.

Dancing inches out of reach beyond the sofa arm, Doyle uttered the 'nah
nyah nah' chant of his childhood.

Bodie halted, temporarily abandoning the challenge, trying a different
tack. "I missed you, Ray," he said softly.

Doyle paused, the green fire in his own eyes dying down, melting,
softening his gut and turning his legs to jelly.

"Missed you too," he agreed.

"Cummere then." Bodie held out a hand.

Doyle gave in, not unwilling. Bodie had had the power to govern him for a
long time now if only he knew it. Doyle sometimes wondered whether he
fully knew just how far Doyle would go to please him. He'd do anything for
Bodie - anything.

Their bodies merged, negating the weeks of separation, mouths meeting in
exquisite acknowledgement of need, tongues reaching out to stroke,
savouring remembered taste.

"Lemme get these bloody gloves off," Bodie muttered. "I can't feel you
properly."

"I can feel you," Doyle said huskily, wriggling against the cool leather.

Bodie grinned, knowing and confident. "Can't let it alone, can you? What
the hell did you do without me for three weeks?"

Doyle tilted his head back, eyes slitted and heavy. "D'you really want to
know?"

From his body's leaping response to that deliberate provocation Bodie
found to his surprise that he did. Something in Ray, a banked down
excitement, told him that his ever-resourceful partner had some new
surprise in store for him. Stripping off the heavy gloves he flung them
carelessly aside and reached for Doyle again.

Moulding himself to the black-clad figure, Doyle whispered, "I thought
about you every night."

"Yeah?" Bodie looked expectant.

Doyle tilted his head, mouth primmed.

Bodie looked at him, surprised and disappointed. "Is that all?"

"What more d'you expect?"

"Knowing you, quite a bit," Bodie said smugly.

"Course," said Doyle reflectively, "If I'd known you were walking round
back here looking butcher than an abbatoir - cor!" He shook his head and
vented one of his coarse chuckles, "I might've been a bit freer with me
fantasies."

Bodie nuzzled at his neck ticklishly. "Fantasies?"

The casual enquiry didn't fool Doyle. He knew he'd got Bodie's interest.
He let his head fall back, inviting the nip of white teeth, the loving
pressure of thumbs. Bodie obliged him, seeking out the area along the
collar-bone and into the hollow of the throat that he knew would drive
Doyle wild with wanting. A responsive shiver answered him.

Loving every moment of this, hotter for it than he had been even during
the night of their first, furious coupling, Doyle still made himself pull
away. The sight of Bodie in that rig had done the oddest things to him,
made him feel.... He wasn't quite sure of what he felt, only that he
wanted to experience Bodie unleashed, the full force of the man
concentrated on him, the deepest, darkest essence of him.

A tiny frown wrinkled Bodie's brow. "What's up, sunshine?"

"I dunno." Doyle shook his head, a smile creasing his eyes. "You look..."
Another helpless headshake. It would sound so damn silly put into words,
as if he was a leather freak or something and it wasn't that, it was just
that Bodie embodied so much masculine beauty and strength it could be
almost overwhelming even when you knew his soft-as-butter inside, his
little-boy enjoyment of simple things. It wasn't easy to admit that he
bowled you over so completely.

"I feel forty kinds of fool," Bodie said ruefully.

"No." Doyle stepped away from him, freely looking him up and down, lips
parting in unconscious urgency. He ran his tongue over their sudden
dryness and noted Bodie's instinctive response to the open sensuality with
a thrill that juddered down the length of him.

"No, you don't look a fool - but get those bloody boots off, will ya,
before you step on me corns in 'em."

Bodie propped himself on the sofa-arm, balancing precariously as he tugged
them off.

As the second one dropped, Doyle came up behind him, arms going round his
shoulders, pulling him back so that if he wriggled to get away he would
inevitably slip and land in an undignified heap on the carpet.

Holding him there, back pressed into his chest, he ran his hands tenderly
over Bodie's hairless torso, nibbled at his earlobe and said quietly,
"Every night when I finally got to bed I'd lie there wanting you - and
every night I'd get a hard on just thinking about you."

Bodie's gut tightened reflexively. Swallowing hard, he tried to be casual.
"Must've made it tough tryin' to sleep."

"I didn't bother trying." Doyle rocked him, holding him even more tightly.
"I'd lie there, thinkin' about you..." a gentle nibble, nip and then a
soft lick at Bodie's temple and eyebrow, "about all the ways we make
love..." another nibble and a slow, sensuous tongue movement over his
eyelid and back across the cheekbone to the top of his ear, "I'd think
about you suckin' me, the feel of your mouth...." a darting wriggle into
the ear, making Bodie shudder and nearly precipitate them both onto the
floor.

Doyle abandoned the ear regretfully; he didn't want them to be lying down
yet, hadn't goaded Bodie nearly far enough. They'd made love pretty well
every way there was to try and it had always been beautiful, but up to now
it had been gentle, almost timid, while they came to terms with new needs,
new longings. They'd been afraid of their potential to hurt or damage this
feeling between them, knowing just what harm they could do by
over-eagerness and going too fast. As a result they were almost too
careful now, treating each other with a delicacy that belied their innate
maleness, the interior toughness that made them what they were. Now it was
time to drop the pretenses, admit to an honest, gut-level lust to fuck and
be fucked forcefully, joyfully and without fear.

He tightened his grip again then slid a hand down to where the hard thrust
of Bodie's sex strained at those expensive leathers.

"I'd think about this," he murmured, stroking it firmly, licking his way
down the lightly-stubbled jawline. "I'd think about this beautiful prick
shoved deep in my arse, Bodie."

He felt his lover shudder again, catch at his breath and half-turn towards
him. He pushed him back, needing to tell him everything but stupidly shy
of having that cool, hot clear-eyed gaze on him while he spoke.

"Every night! Bodie, I'd lie there thinkin' about you, and I...I couldn't
help it...I'd jerk off, just wishin' it was your hand on me and wantin'
your body against me, hard and hot and.... Oh god," a deep, involuntary
groan of longing, "I missed you so much."

The room was very still, still enough for him to hear Bodie's quick,
convulsive gulp.

 "Every bloody night, Bodie," he said again, tugging at the leather jacket
roughly, stripping it off those broad, muscled shoulders, trapping his
arms behind him. "Every bloody night I wanted you so bad I wanted to cry,
'n I'd lie there and think up all the ways I want you to fuck me 'n all
the ways I want to get into you, so come on, beautiful, come and give me
what I wanted - now!"

Releasing him, he stood back, eyes wide with need, face alight with
urgency.

Breathing in short, panting bursts, Bodie stood also, wrenching the jacket
off and dropping it carelessly, reaching blindly for the skinny figure.
Doyle moved back, kicking the long ago slipped towel aside.

"Get those fuckin' trousers off," he ordered hoarsely. "Get 'em off, you
fool. Can't screw me with your trousers on, can you?"

Clumsy with passion, hands feeling lead-welghted, Bodie obeyed him, eyes
not leaving Doyle as the slighter man swayed with deliberate provocation
before him, hands squeezing his own genitals, heavy-lidded eyes
half-closed as he waited impatiently.

Underpants still adorning one calf, forgotten black socks at half-mast,
Bodie shook desperately at his right hand, trying to dislodge the
persistent tee-shirt as it clung to his wrist, grabbing for Doyle, moaning
something as he did so.

Doyle didn't know what and didn't care. Nothing mattered now save his
urgent need for touch, forceful and wanting. He thrust his hips forward,
demanding contact, feeling the hot brush of urgent cock arching against
his own flesh.

"Come on," Bodie rasped, urging him down, dropping to their knees
together, pushing him over.

Doyle rolled gladly, oblivious of everything save the muscled, powerful
body controlling him, forcing his legs apart to kneel between them. He
spread them further, wordlessly, pushing up and back to offer his arse
eagerly. Firm hands parted his buttocks, exposing him and he moaned deep
in his throat, shuddering pleasurably, wanting Bodie to look at him,
needing the intimacy, the acceptance of every part of him. A finger probed
him and then the velvet softness of a tongue, answering his deepest,
unspoken longing. He gave a-choked cry.

"Yes. Yes. Oh, please, Bodie, please."

Bodie laved him generously, lapping with swift, sure strokes, rimming him.

Head spinning, Doyle cried out incoherently, wanting and needing more, a
harder, definite need.

"Do it, Bodie. Fuck me, I want you in me."

"Yes. Yes," Bodie was gasping, fumbling a little unco-ordinatedly in his
haste and then he was there, the hot hard bulk of him slowly pushing in.
Doyle shoved backwards, arching to relieve the hard pressure of the
unyielding floor on his own cock, and Bodie's hand snaked under him to
engulf it comfortably in his palm, then they were lost in a rhythmic beat
of passion, thrusting and jerking against each other until Bodie gave a
guttural cry.

"Oh god, Ray...Ray...I'm so close...so close...."

Just knowing that his lover was going to come inside him sent warm waves
of love shivering up and down Doyle's body, his own need temporarily
forgotten as he arched to receive Bodie's cock as deeply as he could,
waiting for the final shudder and relaxation onto him to herald
completion.

They lay very still for a while and then Bodie's fingers began to move
softly on Doyle's trapped sex, ticklish rather than satisfying. Doyle
groaned in frustration and tried to push himself against the palm but he
couldn't get the proper purchase to thrust adequately and moaned again.

"Shut up," Bodie's voice whispered in his ear, low and husky. "You're not
the only one who has fantasies, sunshine."

Doyle stilled, sensing this was going to be good. "Tell me."

"You're not the only one who got lonesome," Bodie murmured, holding him
close, body pressed tightly to the carpet. "I haven't forgotten what my
right arm's for either...only I had a fancy to watch you do it."

"Did you then?" Doyle smiled into the carpet. "OK then, let me up . "

"Don't want to get out of you," Bodie whispered regretfully, but his
slackened organ solved the problem for him and he slid away

Doyle looked over at him, quirking an eyebrow and began to touch his own
body but Bodie stilled his hand.

"Not like that."

"You trying to tell me I've been doin' it wrong all these years?"

"Kneel over me," Bodie whispered. "I want you to come over me, over my
face."

"Oh god!" Doyle had never been so helplessly roused as he was now. The
feel of Bodie's hard muscled body under his buttocks as he knelt astride
him almost made him lose control but he regained it, knowing this would
not take long. Eight or ten swift strokes and he'd be hopelessly lost
probably. When Bodie's hand reached for his balls, cupping them tenderly,
he threw back his head, mouth opened in a silent cry of ecstasy....

Slumped helplessly across Bodie, it was minutes before he moved again.
When he finally could, he lifted himself up and gazed down into those
love-softened eyes.

Bodie's smile held an endearing shyness. "Thought I'd never have the guts
to tell you I wanted you to do that, sunshine."

"Was it that difficult?"

"You'd be surprised." Bodie sounded amused, rueful and contented all at
once.

"No, I wouldn't. Found it hard enough to tell you I needed screwing
through the floor," Doyle acknowledged.

"You can do it for me one of these days."

"Yeah."

Doyle knew he could - and would. No hassle. Bodie knew it too. He sighed.

"Guess it's true what they always say."

"What's that?" Doyle demanded, instantly suspicious.

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder."

Doyle shook his head, tumbled curls mopping up the sweat beading Bodie's
neck. "Nah, it's all that kinky leather gear of course. I wonder what'd
happen if you wore rubber wellies."

"One day," Bodie said darkly, "maybe you'll find out!"

Doyle sniggered. "I should be so lucky."

"You will," Bodie promised him, "you will."

-- THE END --

*Sequel: "Green Wellies"*

   Archive Home