The Professionals Circuit Archive - Sometimes       Sometimes

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fine by me, Bodie."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bodie kissed him.

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

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

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

"I want to fuck you Ray."

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

"Fuck me then."



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



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

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

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

******

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

******

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

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

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

Exhausted, he fell asleep.

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

"Bodie?" he asked the darkness.

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

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

"Anything wrong?"

"No, nothing."

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

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

"Why, Bodie?"

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

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

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

"Bodie, we should talk about this."

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

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

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

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

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

-- THE END --

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