The Professionals Circuit Archive - Trip Through Your Wire	   Trip
Through Your Wire

 

by Garnet

  
 *"You, I'm waiting for you,
 You, you set my desire,
 I trip through your wires."*
      --U2

I shoulda known it wouldn't last. Nothing good ever does.

'Course, some might say it never should have started either. Cowley, for
one. We had to tell him, you see. Both because it was our duty to do so,
and because... well, the sly old bastard deserved it. He deserved to know
what had become of his number one team. The one he had put together,
knowing it would either be the best idea he ever had, or his absolute
worst. That we would either kill each other or...

Get along bloody famously.

Not that it wasn't hard work. Not that we didn't about tear each other's
heads off sometimes. But when it worked, it worked. And, after a while, we
settled into each other and it was better than that even. It was magic or
as near enough as makes no difference.

That first year, we bickered.

The second year, we teased.

The third year. Yeah, the third year. Well, there you go. 

It had been a bloody awful month. A group had splintered off from the main
branch of the IRA and was starting up the troubles again, only this time
on our home soil. And they seemed to have a mad genius for finding the
best times and places to leave their explosive little gifts where they
would be guaranteed to do the most damage, to hurt the most innocent
people. Plus, they didn't just leave it at that. They would call in their
threats and name not just one place, but three or four, sending us and the
Met and the bomb squad scurrying over half the city trying to find the
real bomb. Not just the packages that were tricked up to look like one.

Not that you knew that till you got up close. Close enough to get blown up
if it turned out to be the real deal. And you never knew if they were
going to change the equation on you --leave not just one real one and a
couple of dummies, but maybe all real ones, this time. Meaning, we
couldn't afford to get lax, to take anything for a given.

After that first few times, the Cow had Bodie and me, along with another
couple of teams, trying to find their hideout pretty much 24/7. But this
crew kept on the move constantly and always seemed to be leaving us eating
their dust. Left us a few pretty packages in their wake as well.
Booby-traps and such. One of which almost took Bodie's right hand off, and
it was only blind luck that saved me from taking a tumble at some ratty
old house outside Brixton that mighta broken my neck. Blind luck and
Bodie's quick reach. Tore my jacket up but good, though. One of the other
teams didn't fare nearly as well that same day --Michaels ended up in
hospital with the docs none too sure he'd ever gain his sight back. And
his partner did lose a couple of fingers.

We were all deadly careful, after that, but it took its toll. By the end
of the fourth week, we were all knackered, on-edge, jumping at shadows. Me
and Bodie both, though Bodie would never admit to it. To being anything
other than perfect. 

Something about the berk that I've both admired and resented. Sometimes at
the same damn time.

Then we got a break. Or Jax did, anyway. Some old grass of his that worked
at a pub called him up and gave us a tip that the ones we were looking for
might be holed up below ground at some abandoned warehouse down by the
docks. That we'd have to move fast, though, since he thought they were
about to break camp and move on again.

Bodie about scared the living shit outta me getting us down there. I said
nothing, though --I could see the look on his face and that scared me
more. Those blue eyes of his were grim as all get out. His face withdrawn;
closed down. The same look he'd get when Africa got brought up or, even
worse, the time he put in over in Ireland. He had been handling this case
fairly well until then considering, but I think that now that we were
finally so close to nabbing the bastards, it was all coming back up and
staring him right in the face.

Reminding him of all the dead children he'd seen in Ireland. Those that
he'd seen these last few weeks. 

Bothered me, too. But then I had been given an outlet for it; I had railed
on and on at Bodie about the unfairness of it all, about how much it
sickened me, and he had let me. Night after night and day after day.
Taking it. Never turning away. Saying just the right thing and keeping
shut the rest of the time. Whatever I needed, or he thought I needed. And
if I hadn't been so bloody furious myself, so frustrated, I should have
noticed how unlike him that really was. That he should have long ago lost
his own temper, told me in no uncertain terms that I wasn't the only one
suffering around here, and to just damn well shut up about it and do my
job like the rest of them. 

But, no, all I knew was that I was hurting. I should have known that he
was hurting, too. Hurting so bad he couldn't even talk about it, not even
to me. His best mate.

Hurting bad enough that it was driving him a bit mad.

It'd happened before. I shoulda seen it. Shoulda recognized the signs. But
I didn't and so what ended up happening is far more my fault than my
partner's. 

We didn't take any of 'em alive.

'Course, part of that was their choice. They refused to surrender. But
part of it was Bodie. I don't know if he would have taken them in alive
even if they had thrown down their weapons. His eyes had been cold, flat,
and dangerous, as we'd made our way through the warehouse and down the
narrow set of stairs, we found hidden behind a false wall in the old
office. After which, we worked our way through the series of rooms below
--thick with the smell of rot and fish, the floor slick, and the walls wet
with rising damp --all of them faced with rough hewn stone, probably the
foundation of some building that vastly outdated the warehouse overhead.
Small dark rooms and twisting corridors with just a few naked bulbs
hanging on wires here and there. 

We had gone in without waiting for the other teams to get there.
Disobeying the letter, if not the spirit, of Cowley's orders. Knowing if
we let them get away again, there would be a greater hell to pay than
that. Besides, Murph and Tomlinson hadn't been more than five minutes
behind us. 

'Course, five minutes can be a lifetime. Especially when two blokes with
machine guns suddenly pop outta the shadows and start slinging lead at
you. 

Bodie and I dove for cover in the same instant, but the ricochets off
those old stone walls was nearly as dangerous as the bullets they were
spraying around. Not that the people we were after seemed over concerned
about getting out of there alive. Just about taking us with 'em.

Still I thought the hand grenade that rolled down towards us at the last
minute was a bit much. 

Not that Bodie and I didn't use it to our own advantage. 

Before the dust had even settled, he'd taken out the man with the machine
gun and I'd hit the man who'd tossed the grenade in the first place. Got a
sliver of stone in the left arm for my trouble, but it hadn't felt like
much of anything at the time. Hadn't even noticed the blood, at least not
until we were down the rest of that corridor and out into the room beyond.
And then there'd been no time for it. Not with three more Irish boys to
contend with, ones who were even more eager to make our acquaintance. 

We exchanged several volleys of love notes --our side angling for a better
position and their side digging in behind a half-fallen wall --before I
heard the rest of our mob heading in. And they musta heard 'em too, 'cause
one of the bad guys scurried back and reached for something on the wall
behind him. Yanked it down hard. And then there was an explosion overhead
--not very big, but dazzling in effect as the roof suddenly started coming
down on us. Or sodding great hunks of it, anyway.

Something heavy clipped me on the head and I went down. Lost my gun and
nearly lost more than that. A couple more inches to the left and it would
have been all over. As it was, I was pinned down by this weight on my
back, so solid I could hardly breathe, let alone get a word out. But I
remembered hearing Bodie yelling my name at that point. Musta been him,
'cause no else would have sounded like that --all clipped and abrupt and
angry, like it was my fault the roof had half landed on my head. 

I tried to answer, but the effort just made me dizzy, made me choke on
swirling dust. But I fought it back as best I could, recognizing the
blackness I was flirting with. If I passed out...

Didn't know it at the time, but all that was wiggling were me fingers. Not
that Bodie could see even those, not from where he had ended up. Nah, all
he could see was one leg and part of my arm. The rest of me was right
buried under more rock and pieces of half-rotted wood and things from a
couple hundred years ago that don't bear thinking about. 

Not that I think Bodie was thinking at all after he yelled my name and got
no answer. Moving, yeah. Reacting. Using up the last of his clip and
laying in another, until all that was left was blood and broken bodies. I
think the final count was that he'd shot two of them three times each and
the last bloke --the one that just wouldn't lay down like he shoulda
--five times total. Once in the shoulder. Once in each leg. Once in the
chest and one last bullet right to the head. At close range. Wasn't much
left afterward. Not nearly enough to I.D. 

I think Cowley knew he'd gone over the top. Likely, he knew why. And it
wasn't just the ghosts of all those dead children. It was me.

And though I was grateful to be alive, relieved that we'd gotten them all,
shut down their operation, I was also a bit unnerved by what Bodie'd done
when he thought I'd been done up. By the look on his face when they
finally dug me out and I was still alive. He woulda gone with me to
hospital, I think, if the Cow hadn't turned up. Took him under his wing.
Cowley always seemed to know when my partner needed minding the most.
Well, almost always. 

They turned me loose the next afternoon and Bodie was there to greet me,
to drive me home. They'd given me some hefty pain pills, but I wasn't much
for taking them --made me woozy and woolly in the head and some might say
I've enough of that already, thank you. Which meant I was in pain, but not
copping to it. At least not in front of anybody; not my partner. Who knew
anyway. Always did. 

Anyway, he set me up on the couch and brought me my tea, and talked about
the latest gossip from work --how the newest addition to the squad was
going around boasting he had pulled some bird he claimed was some
supermodel or some such --until he felt he'd got me settled. But then he
didn't leave like usual. Instead, he wandered over to the window and stood
there looking out. Likely not seeing what he was looking at, but looking
all the same. His shoulders slumped a bit, not at all his normal posture.
Like a weight was on *his* back. 

And the sight of him standing there like that took my mind clean off the
pain I was still in. Put me clean off my tea, as well. 

"Thought you were dead," he said at last. His tone was toneless,
emotionless.

I knew better.

"Nah," I replied; a soft tone to match his hard one. "Take more than that
to make me kick off these climes, sunshine. After all, there's a good
match on tonight."

Didn't even get a rise out of him. Though he did turn around to face me.

"You shoulda said somethin', Ray. Let me know. I..."He shook his head, his
eyes abruptly bleak, his eyebrows knitted up. "I know it's part of the job
and always there, always a risk... but, *Christ*..."

"I couldn't," I said, not able to take my own eyes off him. Off that
too-pale face. "I... tried, Bodie. You know I tried."

"Yeah," he admitted, his gaze suddenly flickering away. "I know. It's just
that... what with what happened last summer. It's close. Too damn close,
Ray." He ran a hand around his neck, pressing inwards, as if to try and
relieve tension. Or pain he didn't want to admit to either, same as me.

I'd come out the worst in the deal --excepting the Irish lads, a
'course--but Bodie'd taken quite a pounding as well. Mostly bruises and a
few deep scratches, nothing that had required an overnight in hospital,
but Cowley had given him the next coupla days off as well. Maybe the old
man knew, not all the worst bruises were visible ones.

"C'mere," I said, not ordering him, but not far from it either. "Sit down
before you fall down. I don't want to have to go pickin' up your pieces
either."

Blue eyes caught on mine again, resistance flashing for a moment, then
fading out nearly as quick as it had first appeared. He went and sat down
in the chair opposite me, not stiff, but not relaxed either.

"Think I'd like that," he said, almost as if to himself.

"What?" I asked.

He didn't look at me. Instead, he looked at my coffee table as if it and
my forgotten tea were the most fascinating things in the whole ruddy
world.

"Goin' first," he said at last, just as I was about to ask again. "Not
bein' the one... left behind. Would be bloody awful, that."

That got right up my nose, as much as it made me feel warm inside, made me
feel... needed.

"Selfish a' you, innit?"

His head shot up at the sharpness of my tone. "Ray?"

"Think I'd like it any better? How often have you told me how I corner the
market in the guilt department. *Fuck*, Bodie..."I shook my head,
moderated my voice a little. "I don't know if I could handle bein'... if I
could go on without havin' you as my partner."

He seemed to sag down into the chair, even as he looked away. Back at the
window, he'd been gazing out of for so long. "You're stronger than you
think, Ray," he said quietly. "Always have been."

Now it was my turn to look away--at the floor, at the walls, anywhere but
at my partner. He didn't know and I hadn't wanted to tell him, not ever,
but the secret suddenly wore heavy in my chest. It made those healed scars
throb and pinch as if it had happened only yesterday, rather than nearly a
year ago. Sometimes, it felt more like yesterday. Sometimes, I couldn't
remember past that day. 

It seems like Bodie had some of the same trouble.

"What if I'm not?" I said finally, and my eyes had come to rest on my
collection of toy soldiers, one of the few things left from my old flat
that I had arranged with Murphy to have taken to my new one. Except for my
clothes, that is. I had wanted to start over, to start fresh, and it had
been my way of doing just that. Besides, I hadn't been able to stand the
thought of going back there after what happened that day. Hadn't even been
able to stand the thought of Bodie being there. 

"What if..." I started to say, but he swung back around to stare at me and
the words died away just like that. Crushed by dust and cool blue eyes.

"Don't, Ray," he said, flat-toned again, though those same eyes betrayed
him; they showed more fear than he normally allowed, even facing down a
gun.

"'S true," I said anyway. Having to say it. Needing to have him hear it.
"When I was... hurt... well, I never told you about the dreams I had. If
you could call 'em dreams. You were in 'em, and Cowley. Like when we first
met and you didn't have much time for me..."I gave a short little laugh.
"Or any copper, for that matter. When you told me, I had to be cool. Had
to not let things get to me. Be just like you."

"Ray..."he tried again, almost pleading, but I couldn't quit now. Not
after all this time.

"And there was more. I... saw my funeral, Bodie. Saw it all. And how none
of it mattered. How* I *hadn't mattered. Anything I'd done. That it was
all... just killing, and that no good had ever come out of it. That none
ever could. And I didn't want to go back, at least part of me anyhow. Not
to that. Not to what my life had become. To what... to what *I* had
become. Part of me wanted to die."

My voice faded away to silence. Silence that wasn't broken for a long
time, long enough for me to begin to regret what I'd just said. That I'd
said anything at all.

"Bloody hell," Bodie finally muttered, his own voice sounding raw. "So he
was right." 

I couldn't just leave it. "Who?"

But my partner was shaking his head and wouldn't look at me. "Bloody
Cowley. I didn't want to believe him. I told him it wasn't true."

"Bodie... *what*?"

But his eyes were closed now and he was still shaking his head.

I sat up and was about to ask again, was about to reach out, when he
abruptly stood and stalked away. And he suddenly looked uneasy in his
skin, uncertain, even oddly ungraceful as he moved back over to that damn
window. He reached out and rested both hands on the frame, rested his
forehead against the glass, as if he was trying to use it to cool
something too hot inside him. 

And I had an unsettling flash of him pulling his head back and smashing it
forward into that same glass. Needing to strike out, to hurt something. 

Even if it was himself.

My gut emptied out and I pushed myself to my feet. I began to walk towards
him, softly and carefully, almost expecting my vision to come true any
second now. But the floor began to tilt just as I reached him --as I was
about to reach out to him, to touch that impossibly tense shoulder --and
he reacted more quickly than me. He spun around and caught me just as I
began to fall. He caught me up hard in strong arms and brought me in
towards him, hip to hip and chest to chest. His breath gusting across my
cheek and it *was* hot, hot and ragged with whatever he was keeping so
carefully inside him. 

"Doyle,"he said, and I could hear desperation there, too.

I opened my mouth, but I forgot what I was about to say when he abruptly
clasped me even tighter --tight enough to hurt, tight enough to make me
gasp --and damn well kissed me. Not a hard kiss, but not soft either. More
like some mix of the two, part lip and part teeth. Rough and gentle at the
same time, like he couldn't make up his mind what he wanted.

I was just wondering what I wanted to do about it, when Bodie broke away
from the kiss. He didn't let go of me, though --maybe he was worried I
couldn't stand on me own --but his face went suddenly cool and distant, a
mockery of its usual mask. 

And his eyes were cold, almost as cold as the day he'd been contemplating
murder on King Billy. It hurt to look at them, to be the cause of his
withdrawal, even though I hadn't been the one to start this. And, as if he
realized that, he suddenly looked off into some middle distance all his
own. 

"Bodie," I said hesitantly, more a whisper than anything else. Then my
voice failed me entirely and I realized that I was shaking a little. That
my face was hot and my hands were cold and I was feeling too many things
at once to even know where to begin to sort them out. 

 But then Bodie looked at me again and anger began to edge all the others
out. Because he seemed so sad, so regretful, and tinged with something I'd
almost call self-loathing, if it hadn't been my partner we were talking
about here.

"So now *you *know, sunshine," he said, his voice deadly quiet. "One
secret deserves another. Isn't that how it works?"

I swallowed hard and finally found my own voice. I was still shaking
inside, but somehow it came out cool enough, almost hard. "It's not a
game, Bodie. Don't fuck with me." 

He shook his head slightly, but his eyes never left mine. "'Course, it is.
It's all a game." 

He was lying. I knew he was lying. 

I shook my head and suddenly it felt like the floor dropped out from under
me. 

"Gotta sit down," I mumbled, but Bodie was already there, holding me up,
half-carrying me, and for once I didn't struggle to do it all for myself.
My legs weren't working right anyway and his arms felt so strong around
me, so familiar. 

The sofa felt good, warm and stable and comfortable, and I curled up into
one corner of it, laid my head back and half-closed my eyes. Dimly, I
sensed Bodie moving back to stand over me, but it was all I could do to
remember how to breathe just then. 

I don't know how long it was, but I finally heard him sigh and begin to
move away. Before I knew what I was doing, I reached out and snagged his
wrist. 

"Bodie," I said, but he was already caught. He was staring down at my
fingers on his arm as if he'd never seen them before. 

"'S no good," was all he said, though, and his voice was empty. "I never
shoulda... oh Christ, Ray, just forget about it, okay? For once, just
forget about it. Just... let it *go*." 

Unspoken, was the let *me* go. 

"Bodie," I said. "Don't leave. We gotta talk about this. You know that."

He looked at me, then looked away again, and his shoulders slumped.
"Okay," he responded stiffly. "I'll stay."

I let go of him and he made as if to return to his chair, but I shook my
head and gestured at the spot right next to me. He wouldn't look at me,
but he did sit on the couch, though at the opposite end. As far from me as
he could get.

His eyes were fixed firmly on the floor. 

For long minutes, we just sat there. Me mulling over what to say, just how
to say it, and Bodie... well, God knows what he was thinking. Not even I
could read him some of the time.

"Bodie," I said at the last, and watched as his head lifted slightly at
the sound of his name. "Bodie... how long have you... known?"

One shoulder lifted slightly, a half-hearted shrug. "Known what, Doyle?
That I'm queer, or that I wanted to fuck my partner?"

It was deliberately crude, almost cruel, and I recognized it for what it
was --his way of trying to put even more distance between us, of going for
the preemptive strike. Knowing if he got me mad, I wouldn't be able to
corner him, would likely just throw him right out the door. Not bloody
likely.

"Either. Both,"I said softly. 

He shot me a glance, searching and caustic, then laughed a little, though
there was nothing pleasant about it. He settled back into the couch and
let out a long breath and spread his arms out full-length along the back. 

"Well, let me see," he said. "I was sixteen when I skipped the country,
when I found out what went on 'below decks.' Not that any of us counted
that as being queer, you understand. Especially not me. Even though I was
raring to go for almost anything those days just to get me own. As for
Africa... well, there, things changed a bit. I found I kinda liked bein'
with a man. Not as much as bein' with a woman, mind you, but it was a bit
of all right."

"Oh," I said. "I see."

"Do you?" Again, that sharp look. "I don't think so. I don't think you see
it at all. At least, you never have."

"Yeah?" I replied and couldn't keep the sarcasm from showing. "So, that's
why you hauled off and kissed me, was it? To show me what I was missing
out on then? A real hands-on approach you have, mate." 

"Hey, can't help it if you're a bit thick sometimes. Carry you enough as
it is, don't I?"

It was a familiar give and take, but I didn't want to drop back into the
familiar, the known. Not with the feel of his lips still lingering on
mine. 

"Bodie..."I said warningly.

He closed his eyes and his head went down even further. There was silence
for a heartbeat, two, three, before he spoke again. His head still bowed,
his eyes clamped shut. As if he couldn't both look at me and say what he
had to say.

"About a year," he said quietly. "I've been fancying you for about a year.
Maybe, a bit longer. Not that I ever thought to do anything. Knowing you'd
punch me out or have me kicked out of the squad because of it. Hell, we're
both in Cowley's bad books often enough as it is. Can't have the old man
thinking one of his mob is a fucking queer. Let alone that he wants to bed
his own goddamned partner."

"But I didn't, did I?"I said.

His head came up at that. "Eh?"

I looked deeply into those blue eyes, remembering warmth in them,
remembering ice. Remembering the deep pain, they had betrayed when he'd
bent over me and thought I was dying. Spilled milk and blood and the sound
of my own fading heartbeat. All those ghosts at my graveside. 

"I didn't hit you," I elaborated. "Coulda. But I didn't."

His eyes begged the question, though he seemed almost incapable of asking
it directly. 

I couldn't keep back the smile, small though it was. "Was a nice kiss,
Bodie. Guess now I know what all those birds see in you. It's not just
your devastating charm. It's your body."

For a moment, it seemed he was about to smile back, but then his face
darkened. His eyes most of all. 

"Don't fool about, Ray," he said, his voice ghostly calm, fire and frost.
"Don't make that mistake."

"Bodie..."It was all I could say, but I could feel myself coming apart and
knew he had to see that too. That he had to know...

That I had already realized that I wanted this. That I wanted him. And
that it scared the living fuck out of me.

I had no experience with being with another man, despite having gone into
those kinds of clubs sometimes while working my patch in East London. And
not that I had anything against it. Against *them*. They were just people
--same damn needs, and same damn problems as anyone else, no matter who
they took home to bed. 

And not that I hadn't ever thought about it, even considered it on
occasion. The same way I considered what things might have been like if
I'd chosen to become an artist, rather than a copper. But considering it
is a long way from doing it. From having it stare you right in the eye
from just a few feet away. From having your partner of nearly three years
kiss you and tell you, he wants you.

Yeah, sure, it scared me. But I've had to face things that have scared me
before --hell, bloody terrified me --and as I stared at the man next to me
on the couch, I suddenly found that I couldn't think of anything I wanted
more in that moment than to win through that fear. To discover something
more about myself. And, better still, to discover the depths of my
partner, always so well hidden and so well protected before. 

No matter the cost.

But Bodie's eyes were searching mine, studying my face as if he had never
seen it before, before he abruptly looked away again and shifted uneasily
in place. As if he wanted to get up, but was afraid to at the same time.
Like he was afraid that I wouldn't stop him from leaving this time. 

"'M, sorry," he suddenly mumbled.

Bodie apologizing was a rare enough treat, but it wasn't at all what I
wanted right then.

"Don't be," I replied. "I think... no, I'm glad that you did it.
Especially if you've been wanting to for so long. Long as all that. Best
it be out in the open between us, Bodie. I woulda hated to have been done
up yesterday and never have known. Never have had the chance to know...how
you felt."

He shot me an almost angry look. "You don't know what you're saying. You
can't."

"Fuck," I spat back, a sudden wash of anger making me want to shake the
fuck outta him. "I'm a big boy, Bodie, in case you hadn't noticed. I know
what I want and how I want it. And that goes for *who* I fucking want as
well." 

His reply was quiet, but hurt for all that. "Never said you didn't. Just
knew you didn't want me, that's all. Any bloke. No matter how
devastatingly handsome."

"Modest, too," I added. "You forgot that."

He shook his head, talking almost as if to himself. "Never do. Never will.
Tried to forget, Ray. But it just wouldn't go away. No matter how many
birds I took home. No matter how hard I fucked 'em. It would be okay for a
little while after, but then I would find myself wondering. Thinking what
it would be like if things were different. If it were you instead of them.
Looking up at me with those great cat's eyes of yours."

The last was said rather lightly, almost as if he meant it as a joke. But
I wasn't laughing and neither was he.

"Is that how you see me?" I asked. "How you see this? As someone to fuck?"

He lowered his head, closed his eyes tightly for a long moment or two then
opened them again. And looked at me, really looked at me. His face open,
his eyes clear, almost pleading. 

"Ray," he said. "I can't tell you what I don't know. I... I can't make
promises. Not when I... well, you know how things always seem to turn
out."

Oh, yeah. I knew. I could count the number of times I'd seen Bodie get
serious on one hand, and all of them had ended badly. Had just about torn
him apart. Not that my track record in the long-term relationship
department was very much better. But I couldn't do this as a lark. I
couldn't. It could so easily destroy everything and if I was going to do
this, then it had to be worth the risk. It had to be worth the effort,
just like our partnership. And I wasn't going to kid myself; Bodie could
be a right bastard when he really wanted to, when things weren't going his
way. He'd never been easy to work with. Getting involved with him would
only stir the pot even more.

Not that it didn't work both ways. I'd never claimed to be low
maintenance. 

Cowley would certainly agree with that.

"Yeah. You're right, mate," I said at last. 

Bodie seemed almost relieved at my agreement. He seemed less relieved when
I smiled slightly and slouched down on my end of the couch as if I had no
cares left in the world. 

"Guess that means it'll be the both of us taking a chance then, eh?" I
added. "Even if it blows up in our faces."

"Doyle - "he started to say.

"Bodie." I cut him off. "I'm saying yes. Okay? Yes."

"Ray?" 

"*Yes,* damnit."

He smiled at that, probably against his own wishes. "Okay. I heard you,
sunshine."

"Right," I replied. "Good. About time."

He shook his head and that smile only grew. "Never know what to expect
from you, Ray. Guess you'll always keep me guessing."

"That a good thing?" I asked. "Or bad?"

A flash of teeth. "Good. Definitely good."

I smiled back and watched his wide smile melt into something far warmer.
Or something that warmed me anyway. Then I was pushing forward and somehow
we met in the middle. And I kissed him, this time. Well, mostly. It was my
hands on his face anyway, cupping his mouth to mine. Holding him firm as I
put my tongue right in, right where I suddenly felt it belonged. Tasting
warmth, salt, and the faint traces of something musky. Something dark and
dangerous. And I couldn't get enough of him, couldn't get deep enough
inside him, though I swear I had my tongue as far down his throat as it
could get.

And then it was better --impossibly better --as I felt his arms closing
around me. Pulling me down with him. Pulling me on top of him. And he was
hot everywhere, all hard muscle and smooth skin, and I could feel the
hardest and hottest thing of all pressing upwards against my thigh. Like
it could poke a hole right through his posh slacks if he let it.

He let out a harsh breath, a slight moan, as he finally tore his mouth
away from mine. 

"You really do want me, sunshine," I couldn't help but say, especially
when those blue eyes rolled down to look at me. 

He laughed a bit at that, breathy and amused. "Quick lad. Whatever gave
you that idea?"

"Oh," I replied. "This, I think." And I quite deliberately rubbed my leg
across that certain hard little knot in his trousers. Not that it was all
that little.

He jumped at that, an almost involuntary thrust of his hips, and his head
arched back, displaying the clean line of his neck.

And I couldn't help myself. I went for it. Bit him, too. Harder, I think,
than he really expected, then began biting and licking my way back up to
his left ear.

"Eh," I heard him whisper, even as his hands moved to dig themselves down
in my own hair, carding fingers between the strands, pulling and stroking
at the curls almost possessively. "What was that for?"

"Bein' so dumb," I replied, breathing the answer right down into that
equally tempting ear. 

"Ah," he said. "Guess, you'll be... bitin' me a lot, then."

"Might," I said back, then gave in, and sent my tongue down into the
depths of his ear and felt him shudder beneath me. 

"Ah, fuck," he mumbled.

I pulled back a little, enough to tickle him with my breath. "Thought that
was the idea, mate."

"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, it is." 

And then he was moving and taking me with him and the both of us were
falling. Somehow, we ended up on the floor and he had me pinned down
beneath his weight, trapped between the couch and the coffee table. And it
scared me as much as it thrilled me, to be held like that. To know just
how strong he was.

To feel his cock pressing against my own. 

And I froze, suddenly realizing in raging stereo, full technicolor detail
just where he might want to put that. Fuck, I'd never liked being
submissive to anyone, least of all Bodie. Especially Bodie, who had tried
me and tested me from day one and had only grudgingly finally admitted
that I measured up to his exacting standards, that I was a tough little
sod, despite my slight build and all those curls. The same shit that had
gotten me into so much trouble as a kid and had made me learn how to fight
almost before I learned how to read. As it had taught me to fuck just
about anything in a skirt if she'd give me the time of day and half a
chance. 

Just like Bodie. 

Just like Bodie...

I stared up at those blue eyes and belatedly realized that they were
scared, too. Scared of me and scared of himself, and mostly scared of
being hurt. Not that I wanted to hurt him, even though I had in the past.
I think everybody had hurt him at some time or another, even the birds
that he'd swear that he'd never been all that serious about.

It made me relax again and smile up at him. This was Bodie and I trusted
him, trusted him with my life and more. Certainly, I could trust him with
my body. 

Bodie smiled back, not his usual smug grin, but something that appeared
almost shy. He bent down and kissed me again, a long slow slide of lips
and whisker burn, his tongue dipping down to taste me, to curl itself
around my own tongue. Then he moaned and the kiss abruptly turned hard,
possessive, and he ducked down to lick at my neck, to kiss it, great
biting kisses, and I felt his hands pushing under my shirt, skimming
fingers rough on my skin, curving around to claim my ribs. 

I jerked as they hit a bruise and his hands immediately turned soothing.
"Sorry, mate," he mumbled somewhere in the vicinity of my collarbone.

"'S all right," I said, even though nothing was. It was terrifying and
wonderful at the same time, what he was doing to me, what I was feeling,
weak, and strong and hot and melting in the oddest places. It had never
been like this with the birds I'd been with, not even Ann. The woman I'd
come the closest to loving, to chucking all this away for. My job, my
life. Bodie.

Bodie.

The man was definitely lethal, and in more ways than could be tallied up
on the target range.

But then he was lifting up, stripping my shirt clean off, and his mouth
came down on my right nipple and the word lethal had to take a back seat
to other, far less poetic words, as he nibbled, licked, sucked, and drove
me and my poor weeping prick right to the edge. Until I was gasping and
holding onto him and begging him to stop, to finish it. To get me out of
these fucking jeans.

The bastard pulled back then, breathing hard himself, and looked down at
me. He swallowed. Hard.

"Ray," he whispered, and I had never heard him say my name quite like that
before. Sweet, sad, disbelieving, and overjoyed all at once.

"Yeah," I breathed back and felt something sting my eyes. 

But Bodie just shook his head. I was the one who had to reach up, to touch
that face. Trailing my fingers along all that pale smooth skin, the
rougher whisper of beard along his jaw line, watching the flicker of black
lashes as his eyes slid half-shut. Giving himself over to me. Bodie, who
never gave himself easily or willingly to anyone.

"Bodie," I said softly. "I want to try this, I really do. But I can't make
promises, either. And not just because of the job."

He nodded, then tilted his head deeper into my right hand. He let out a
quiet sound, almost a sigh. Then his eyes suddenly flickered open again,
their brilliant color and clarity almost catching me unaware; as if I'd
never really seen them before.

"Ray," he said. "Was it really the job that almost made you give up?
'Cause if it was..."

I shook my head, then shrugged. I started to take my hand back, but he
caught it and held it, almost too tightly.

"I don't know," I replied. "Maybe, yeah. Even before that day, I'd been
feelin' so tired. I *had* been thinking that nothin' we did really
mattered anymore. Like I was just goin' through the motions. Not really
living anymore. Not knowing what I was living for."

"And now?"

I turned my hand until I could twine our fingers together. "Better," I
admitted. "'S been better since. Mostly. Why? You think I *should *quit?
You think what happened today was some kind of warning? That I really am
gettin' too slow for this, too old?"

He shook his head. "Just wonderin' if *we* should quit, angelfish. Get out
while we've still got a few good years left in us... and all our best
parts."

"You want to quit?"I couldn't believe I was hearing this. Bodie rarely
seriously complained about the job. About the lousy pay, the lousy hours,
the way Cowley'd invoke that damned fine print in our contracts whenever
he wanted to get his way, yeah. But not about the job itself. He'd always
seemed to thrive on the excitement, the risk, the danger. 

"'S just a thought," he said. "Been wondering a bit myself, that's all.
Not gettin' any younger, none of us."

His voice had gone soft and his eyes hooded again. Suddenly, I realized
what he was really trying to say, what he *had* said. 

We. 

Both of us had just said we couldn't promise a bloody thing to each other
and already Bodie was thinking about chucking it all in just 'cause he
thought I might want to. That I might need to. I didn't feel like crying
this time; instead, I couldn't keep the laughter inside. 

Bodie's eyes shot open at my sudden chuckle, but I just shook my head at
him and used my free hand to drag his head down, kissing him quickly, but
thoroughly for all that. His mouth opened beneath the pressure of mine,
letting me into the heat and moisture beyond. Letting me steal some for my
very own.

When I finally let him go again, his face was slightly flushed and those
blue eyes were hazy, not at all thinking about the future. Probably not
thinking clearly at all anymore. I felt a bit dizzy myself, hot in all the
right places, and no longer worried about who was going to do what to who,
or what the rest of the world might think about it, let alone our own
bonny lads at CI bloody 5. Let alone what the Cow might think or do to the
two of us because of it.

This wasn't about submission. This wasn't about giving something up. This
was about the man in my arms and wanting to make him even more a part of
me. Wanting to give him something he'd never had. This was about finding
something I'd always dreamed of, but rarely had had the courage to believe
in, even those couple of times I'd actually thought I'd found it.

Something more real than hearts and flowers. Something that was as much a
part of you as your own blood and bones and breath. 

"Bodie," I said. "Bedroom."

He blinked and the haze cleared just a little. Enough for a truly lovely
smile to break out. "Think you've got one around here someplace,
sunshine," he commented.

I rolled my eyes at him, which only made him snort. 

"Geddup, will ya," I grumbled.

"You wish is my command, Raymond," he said. Then, with that smile suddenly
turning into something closer to a smirk, he kissed me once on the nose
and levered himself up, then reached a waiting hand back down.

It was a casual gesture, but I paused before I took him up on it, staring
upwards into those blue eyes, wondering at the fact that I swear I could
almost see myself in them. Not the way I looked to myself in the mirror
most mornings --ragtag and scraggly, put together all wrong, with bags
under my eyes and more and more gray in my hair --but the glimpse I would
get of myself on those rare occasions when the day still seemed to have
some promise to it. When I still felt young. When I felt alive. Wicked
with the very blood in my veins.

But then Bodie had always made me feel alive. Even when I was angry with
him. 

I reached up and he smoothly and easily hauled me to my feet. Pain
instantly shot through me and I gasped, half-curling up around it.

"Christ," he hissed, his arms closing around me again. "Sorry, mate. I
forgot."

I nodded. "'S okay." 

I breathed through the pain, around it, and slowly it began to be okay. It
was mostly just a knock on the head and some bruised ribs, after all.
Nothing to write home about. Certainly, Macklin had given us both worse in
the past and would again. Still, I let Bodie hold me. His body felt so
real, so solid, so strong. And he smelled good, too; of sweat and
gunpowder. 

But Bodie had taken the opportunity to bury his face in my hair and I
could feel his breath on the back of my neck. 

"You sure you're up for this, Ray?" he asked.

I reached up and curled my fingers around the back of his head, enjoying
the feel of that short clipped hair. It was softer than it looked. 

"What do you think?" I responded, pressing my groin tight into his thigh. 

"I think you're a right pain and a snarky son-of-a-bitch," he mumbled.
"But I want you so bad I can't fucking see straight."

"Glad to hear it," I said and couldn't keep the laughter out of my voice. 

Suddenly, despite still hurting, despite all my lingering uncertainties, I
felt happy. Really happy. Unreasonably happy even. Especially when I
looked into those blue eyes and saw pleasure there as well, sheer relief,
wry good humor, a shockingly honest and pure desire. His eyes made me feel
giddy. It made me feel like grabbing him and never letting go again.

Wicked, real, and right. *This* was Bodie at his best. Bodie at his worst.
And, maybe, it all would work out. Maybe, it would last when nothing and
no one else ever had. After all, he had been the one constant in my life
for years now. The one person I could always rely on, even when we
disagreed with each other. Even when we fought and feuded and I despaired
of ever teaching him tolerance, and he despaired of ever teaching me the
finer points of fashion. 

William Andrew Phillip Bodie. My partner and my best mate. From the
efficient lingering-shades-of-the-military cut of his black hair to the
dark blush of yesterday's beard on his cheeks. From that wide, smiling,
smirking, scornful mouth to the cool fire of those blue eyes.
Broad-shouldered, big-hearted, cold as stone and furious as hell when you
pushed him too far Bodie. How could I not have seen how beautiful he was
before? How could I not want him as badly as he so obviously wanted me?

How could anyone ever resist the bugger?

Especially with that look on his face and that light in his eyes as he
drew back to look at me. The look that said he thought he knew exactly
what I was thinking and that he was the center of it all. Which made
everything right with the world.

"I want to fuck you," he said, direct as ever. But then he drew in a long
breath and sighed.

"But...?" I encouraged him, suspecting already what I was about to hear.

He shook his head at me, then gently let go and went over to the side
table. A second later, a bottle of pills flew at me and I caught them out
of the air without thinking, with a wince. Bodie shot me a sidelong
glance, then went into the kitchen and came back out again with a glass of
water from the tap.

"But," he finished at last. "I think, right now, you need these more."

I sighed myself, but tipped out a couple of pills and tossed them back
like a good boy, then followed them up with the water Bodie had brought
me. He took the bottle and the empty glass back, set them aside, but then
paused and leaned forward to seal my mouth shut again with a kiss that had
nothing of the nursemaid about it. 

It was hot, lingering, almost frightening in its intensity. Like he was
pouring his very essence into me. Like he wanted to suck my own into him.

Like we had all the time in the world.

When he pulled back at last, I reached out to make sure he didn't escape
entirely. My hands on his shoulders and his breath mingled with my own and
our mouths almost touching. Thigh to thigh and hip to hip, his cock
pressed up against my own, as he whispered my name, as I whispered his
right back. Both of us fools if we thought we hadn't already promised each
other the world, both of us fucking insane to even consider it.

But then the floor tried to tip me over and Bodie slipped an arm through
my own and made it right itself again.

"Time for bed, sunshine," he said.

"'S what I said," I agreed.

"To sleep," he clarified. 

"Bodie..."

"*Sleep*," he said again. "You need it. I need it. More than we need the
other."

I angled to kiss him again, to get him to kiss me, but he eluded me,
shaking his head, but grinning all the while. "Doyle..."

I knew that tone. I knew he was right. I just didn't have to like it.

"Read me a bedtime story then," I said, letting him start to pull me in
the direction of the bedroom.

"I'll read you a fucking story," he replied. "And tuck you in and make you
say your bloody prayers. Now move it, Doyle, before those pills kick in
and I have to carry your lazy arse to bed."

"Shortest honeymoon in history," I mumbled, but moved anyway. "Pushy
bastard, Bodie."

"You ain't seen nothing yet," he answered, steering me into the right room
and over to the foot of the bed. 

"Want to see it," I said, glancing down at the front of his trousers.

Bodie snorted, carefully tipping me down onto the sheets. "Go on."

The pills must have really started their magic then, or sheer exhaustion
finally caught up to me, because I didn't remember much else after that.
Just flashes of my jeans finally coming off, of the crispness of the
pillow beneath my cheek, of a hot body sliding in next to me and gathering
me close. Strong arms. And a soft kiss laid on the naked point of my
shoulder just before everything faded away.

I might have imagined it, but I doubt it.

Just as I might have imagined the naked cock tucking itself in behind my
balls, like it had always belonged there. Right there.

But I doubt it.

******

The next morning I woke up slowly, far more slowly than I usually do, a
little disorientated and a little sore and stiff, though not in a good
way. The first thing I became aware of, after bits of my body chimed in
with all their complaints about how they'd been treated, was the warm body
lying right next to me. The steady ebb and flow of its breathing, the hand
dropped down across my belly as a leg was curled across both of my own.

My partner, possessive even in his sleep. Protective. Heavy.

I opened my eyes, then squeezed them half-shut them again as late morning
sunshine dazzled me. Neither of us had thought to pull the shades last
night and now the light was pouring in through the window across the way,
part of it illuminating the tangled sheets at the bottom of the bed. A
single foot poked out of the middle of it. It wasn't mine.

Vaguely, I wondered if it was ticklish. Then I wondered how long I'd
survive if I tried to find out.

Bodie's own survival instincts were good, though; he stirred and made a
few quiet, mumbling noises, then rolled over, leaving me free of his
weight, and stealing most of the bedclothes in the process. I pushed
myself up a little and looked over at him. A great lump in the bed with
rumpled black hair sticking out on top.

I let myself fall back and stared up at the ceiling. A rainbow lay in one
corner of the room, cast by the sun hitting the dresser mirror. It seemed
we were missing a beautiful sunny day out there, a rare thing in London
lately. 

Still I didn't want to get out of bed. There was something even more
precious right here and I wanted to savor every bit of it. I wanted to
savor feeling safe and I wanted to savor feeling wanted, even though the
lazy sod who had given me both those things was snoring softly now, not
concerned in the least that he'd left me stranded on my half of the bed.

I poked him in the side --making the snores stop for a second, before
starting up again --then slid off the bed, moving as carefully as a man
twice my age and feeling every bit of the ceiling that had come down on
me. 

I caught sight of myself in the mirror and paused there, counting cuts and
scrapes, and all sorts of shades of black and blue as they marched up my
legs, one hip, and across my ribs. I looked like one big bruise, like
Macklin had spent a week tap dancing all over me. Like I had come close to
dying yesterday. 

I scrubbed my hand through my hair, then across the slightly ridged scar
on my chest, and remembered when I had. Or came as close as makes no
difference. 

But, even then, Bodie had been with me. Had pushed me. Had made me come
back to him.

I turned around and caught him watching me. Blue eyes fell to my chest as
well, hesitated, and then wandered lower. A slow grin spread across his
face. 

I stared back at him, then couldn't help but smile myself. "Tea and
toast?" I asked.

His tongue crept out to wet his lips. "Rather have me a kiss."

I went back over to the bed and bent down, fixing my mouth to his, putting
my hand to the side of his face. He was all unshaven whisker and smooth
skin and tasted good, damn good, morning breath or not.

"Sweet prince," I said, straightening up again. 

"Ribbit," he quipped happily enough and made a grab for me, which I eluded
as gracefully as I could, which wasn't very much this morning.

Bodie lost some of his good humor. "You okay?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Could do with a hot shower. Get some of the kinks out."

Bodie pushed up in bed, blinking sleepily as he glanced around the room,
before stretching slowly. "Go on then," he said. "Unless you want someone
to wash your back for you?"

"Think I can manage," I replied, though it was tempting. Especially as I
watched him move to sit at the edge of the bed, the sheets all bundled up
around his waist like he was still making a half-hearted attempt at
modesty this morning. An impression that didn't last as he looked up at me
and that insolent grin appeared once more.

"Don't use up all the hot water," was all he said, though.

I snorted and walked out of the room and into the loo. I took a good, long
piss and then went to wash my hands. Once there by the sink, however, I
saw the man in the mirror looking back at me just like he did every
morning, my hair a tangled mess and my shoulders hunched and my face puffy
with sleep, a frown line between my eyes betraying lingering
uncertainties. Not of Bodie, but of myself.

We hadn't gone too far last night, Bodie and me. Not much more than a good
bit of snogging and, if either of us still wanted to back out, this
morning we had a second chance. Of course, more than likely it would still
end up being the ruin of our partnership, but we might not end up hating
each other for the rest of our lives if it turned sour. 

I ran my finger down the mirror, tracing out the lines of my own mouth,
the familiar hollow line of my broken cheekbone. Then, feeling suddenly
giddy, silly, almost angry at myself, I laid my hands flat to the cool
surface of the mirror, closed my eyes, and bowed my head over the sink,
shutting out the reflection. Denying the reality of my misgivings, my
cowardice. This was one second chance I didn't want. 

Not like I wanted Bodie... Christ, no, if I denied this then I might as
well have died that day. Or yesterday. 

Finally, I sucked in a deep breath and managed to turn away. I got the
water running and the soap in hand. It felt good to scrub down, even
though it stung at all the cuts on my skin, the scrapes where I hadn't
realized I'd had scrapes. Despite Bodie's comment, I took my time and even
washed my hair, breathing in the steam and the fresh scent of the shampoo.


When I finally got out again, the mirror was completely fogged up and I
felt squeaky clean. More clean than I had felt in days. I rubbed my hair
partially dry with a towel, then more gingerly dried the rest of my body.
My favorite red silk robe hung on the back of the door and I slipped into
it, loosely tying the white sash around my waist.

When I emerged, the first thing I could smell was toast, and I could hear
sausages fizzing and popping. I followed both the sound and scent into the
kitchen and found Bodie setting out plates and mugs and silver. He had put
his trousers back on, but nothing else. Barefoot and still looking a bit
rumpled around the edges, he glanced over as I stood there in the doorway,
then pulled out a chair for me like a true gentleman.

"Breakfast, m'lord," he said. As I sank down in the offered seat, feeling
suddenly a bit silly but not wanting to be rude in the face of all this
unexpected morning cheer, he poured me a cup of tea and handed it to me.
It smelled like pure salvation and went down even better. 

"Eggs?" I asked, between gulps. 

He went back over to turn the sausages, shaking his head. "Not unless you
nip right down and buy some, me lad," he said. "Was lucky to even find
these skulking at the back of your fridge. They looked lonely."

"Haven't had time to get out to the stores lately," I protested mildly. As
well he knew.

I watched him over my tea, entirely at home in my kitchen. But then, Bodie
was entirely at home most places. It was part of his charm. He finished up
the sausages and put a plate full on the table, followed by a neat rack of
toast. Butter and marmalade appeared and then he was pulling out a chair
and sitting down directly across from me and digging in like it was a
feast. Or like he expected to be called away any second.

I buttered a piece of toast and nabbed two sausages. "You gotta go in?"

Bodie shook his head. His mouth was full. He swallowed down the sausage
with some tea before answering. "The Cow said Monday morning's soon
enough."

With this being... what? Friday morning. Well, that was generous of the
old man, even if my partner *was *his precious blue-eyed boy. Probably,
after what just happened and what had almost happened, he wanted to give
Bodie some time to calm down. Unwind. Nurse a few of his own bruises.

Bodie suddenly flashed me a grin full of toast crumbs. "You'll be comin'
in, too. Monday morning bright and early. Can help me with my report."

Paperwork, the bane of working for the government. Especially when you
were a two-fingered typist like Bodie. 

"So that leaves us a nice long weekend," Bodie went on, claiming another
sausage with his fork. "So, let's see... what *shall* we do?"

"Laundry," I said helpfully, getting into the game.

Bodie shook his head and smiled at me again.

"The shops?"

A mock frown this time.

"A nice long fuck?"

That got the hint of a real frown and I belatedly realized that it had
come out harsher than I had intended. 

"If you like," Bodie replied. His own tone had gone suddenly quiet.

"I...think so," I admitted. "Yeah, I just..."

"You've never," he stated.

I nodded and looked down at the half slice of toast on my plate. 

"Slow as you like, sunshine," he said, his voice still soft, his hand
sliding across the table to take my own, to weave our fingers tight
together. "Whatever you want."

I looked back up at him and couldn't help but smile when I saw how serious
he looked just then, how serious and lecherous at the same time. 

"I want you," I said simply. 

His hand squeezed mine harder. "Good," he replied. "So give us a kiss,
then. Least you can do for me having made breakfast. Getting me hands
dirty. Lettin' you have all the hot water."

"Think there's some left," I disputed, but my heart wasn't in it. Instead,
my heart was trying to pound clear of my chest as Bodie suddenly leaned
across the table and pulled my mouth to his. As if it wasn't entirely
willing to go.

It was a gentle kiss, but fervent for all that. Thorough. And somewhere in
the middle of it, I found my hands stroking his face, sliding down to his
bare shoulders, and then just holding on for dear life. Not to mention, my
somewhat ragged soul.

Yeah, I wanted him. I wanted him right then and there, over the goddamned
breakfast table if I had no other choice. In fact, as I pulled him even
closer, I consigned both tea and toast, and every plate I owned to
oblivion, rather than to let him get away from me this fine morning.

Not that my partner particularly wanted to escape. His mouth was fixed to
mine as if he had forgotten how to breathe, or as if he expected me to do
it for him, and his tongue was hot and thick and heavy, tasting of butter
and burn and Bodie. The crockery rattled beneath us as he half-yanked,
half-lifted me further across the table towards him, until my crotch was
riding right into the edge. It hurt and it felt good at the same time.

Finally, he pulled back a little, though he didn't let go of me. "Christ,
I want you," he breathed, his voice ragged and stark; sounding almost
scared. 

I blinked at him, his eyes so close to my own that all I could see was
drowning blue and black, no expression, no reflection of anything else,
even my own eyes.

"Yes," I said. "Now, Bodie."

For one long moment, his hands tightened on me, hard enough to bruise, and
then he let go and slid back to his own side of the table. His face
flushed and his mouth opened as he breathed in these quick little pulses.
He swallowed as he looked back at me and then nodded.

I stood up and came around to collect him, my hand sliding across the
broad muscle of his shoulder and down his arm to close around his wrist. I
could feel his heart beating like it was trying to jump clear out of his
skin. I suddenly wanted to feel that heartbeat somewhere else; I wanted it
inside me, no matter what else that meant.

He didn't say anything as I pulled him to his feet, but there was
uncertainty in his eyes. Those melting blue eyes. 

"C'mon," I said quietly, tilting my head at him. Smiling at him. "Let's go
to bed, for real this time."

For a moment, those black lashes hid his eyes, his reaction, and then he
looked up at me again and smiled. Not one of his patented polished charm
the pants off you without a word kind of grins and not that mock-boyish
aw-shucks look, but a genuine smile of something approaching pure joy. It
transformed his face and made me want him all over again, all the more.

This would work out if I had anything to say about it. If I got to wake up
to that face every morning, take it to bed every night. 

I don't really remember the trip down the hall, just finding us both
standing at the foot of my bed all of a sudden. Finding his hands sliding
in under my robe, tracing their way across my hipbones until calloused
fingers could cup themselves around my arse and pull me tight into him.
Into the feel of his cock curving beneath the zip of his trousers. 

I ground myself back into his erection, my own cock just as swollen,
jabbing outwards from beneath the red silk of my robe, and his hands
tightened on me, compressing flesh and muscle. Driving me harder against
him. Starting a rhythm that sent twinges of pure pleasure through my
groin, through my entire body, that made me feel suddenly hollow inside.

Like only Bodie could fill me.

It should have scared me like it had before, but it didn't. Suddenly, all
the uncertainty was gone, leaving nothing but a need to touch him, to
touch all of him, taste him, stroke him, feel that cock naked against my
own body. Feel my own prick naked against his.

Somehow, I got my hands to the tie of my sash and struggled with the knot.
And somewhere along the line, Bodie got the idea and brought his own hands
up to pull the robe off my shoulders. He stripped it down my body,
ignoring the tied sash entirely, and just yanked the whole thing down
until it puddled around my ankles. 

He went for his trousers next, roughly undoing the zip and pulling them
down and off. He kicked the offending material across the room and then
turned and grabbed and kissed me, hard and furious, spinning the both of
us down onto the bed in a move that could have been smooth if it hadn't
been so desperate.

We rolled across the tangled sheets until we were right on the edge of the
bed, until I was on top. Our legs twisted together and his cock pressed
hot and wet against my hip, my own somehow jammed between his balls and
the crease of his upper thigh.

It was warm there. Warm and perfect. As warm and perfect as his mouth as
he lifted it to me for another kiss, this one as gentle as the other had
been rough. A long, slow, soft exploration that suddenly made it seem as
if we had years and years. As if nothing else mattered. Even though my
cock was screaming otherwise.

"Ray," he said at last, a shockingly relaxed voice, almost lazy. "You
can't want me like this."

"Like what?" I asked, sounding almost as lazy myself, not too concerned
about the question.

"Haven't had a chance to clean up for days. You know that."

Yeah, Bodie was always pretty damn fastidious, and he did smell a fair bit
--days old sweat mixed with the faint acrid odor of gunpowder and dust and
even a hint of blood. I hadn't really noticed it last night and I hadn't
much noticed it this morning, at least until he'd drawn my attention to
it. And, now that he had, I realized that I liked it. I liked it a lot.

He might want to wash it off first, but I didn't want him to. I wanted him
just like he was. Smelling of work and danger, and death. 

It made me feel even more alive.

I shook my head, then bent down and licked along the line of his jaw.
"Yeah," I said. "So?"

"Ray..."

"No," I replied. I was merrily kissing every inch of skin now, tracking
across his bared Adam's apple to the hollow of his throat. He felt so
vulnerable there, the thin skin trembling with his heartbeat exactly as
his cock was insistently pulsing against my hip. "Don't, Bodie. Want you.
Want you just like this."

"Balls," he said, but he relaxed beneath me, letting me have my way with
him. Bodie didn't always know when to quit, but this morning he did. Of
course, it helped that he so obviously wanted what I wanted.

I sucked the salt off his skin and snaked my hand downward between us
until my fingers touched the damp head of his cock. It surged towards me
and Bodie caught his breath, then held it completely as I closed my hand
around him. 

I lifted my head and stared into his eyes and he looked back at me with
this expectant, pure moment of trust and pleasure. Like no one had ever
touched his prick before. Like he never wanted anyone else to ever touch
it again.

No one but me, that is.

And he was warm and slick in my grip, velvet skin, liquid heat. My own
dick had never felt like this. Like a living thing all its own. More Bodie
than Bodie. 

I began stroking him, slowly, oh so slowly, my knuckles skimming crisp
hair at the thick base, slicking off moisture at the head. All that smooth
skin rippling over the heated core beneath. Christ, he was big. And he
felt so good. It felt so good to hold him.

Bodie echoed my sentiment. What a surprise. 

Those blue eyes flickered a little and he made a soft noise. Began to make
these tiny motions with his hips, the muscles in his stomach flexing. His
head tilted further back into the sheets. 

"Ray..." he breathed. It sounded almost like a prayer.

His right hand slipped down and took hold of my own cock. Squeezed it hard
once and then began stroking me as well, just as gently as I was doing
him. oing it at the same time. And it felt good and strange, and soothing
all at the same time --almost like I *was* jacking myself off, but with
somebody else's fingers. 

Pleasure mirroring pleasure, his eyes were reflecting mine. The same slow
smile spreading over both our faces, before I bent down and he lifted up
and we kissed. And there was nothing gentle or slow about that, about how
his tongue drove into my mouth and my own fought back. How our teeth
clashed and our breath merged, hot and relentless. As we bruised and bit
and tasted each other, tasted flesh and spit and mingled need. 

As we began stroking each other harder and faster, harder and faster,
until I could feel myself approaching that edge, that familiar point of no
return, and pulled my mouth away from his. Yanked my hand off his cock and
pushed his roughly off mine.Me gasping and shaking and shuddering on top
of him. Not wanting to stop but wanting more than just this. Knowing Bodie
had to want more, especially after waiting and wanting for so very long. 

And I wanted to give him what he wanted and had waited for. Even if part
of me was still a little bit scared of it. Especially if part of me was
scared of it.

"Doyle?" Bodie's voice was ragged, breathless. His fingers twitched in my
own, wet with my own pre-come. 

"Yeah," I mumbled. "Yeah... just had to slow down, sunshine... was about
to..."

"Yeah," he replied. "Me, too. So..."

I looked down at him and his eyes were still trusting, though they looked
a little perplexed right now. Not angry or hurt that I had stopped him,
even though it was pretty obvious that he'd been within seconds of coming
as well.

"So," I said. "You got anything around here we can use?"

He blinked at me, then seemed to come to some conclusion. "Top left hand
drawer," he replied. "Take your pick."

I nodded, then brought his captured fingers up to my lips and kissed those
hard knuckles. Opened his hand and licked my own taste off his palm.

Bodie laughed softly and *there* was his relief. Also, his mute joy that I
wanted more than just a mutual hand job.

I let go of him and rolled off the bed. I padded across the room to the
dresser and opened the top left hand drawer, hearing the bed creak behind
me as Bodie moved as well. Inside the drawer was a jumble of items,
including several brands of condoms and a couple of small tubes. I cadged
a small silver-blue one with the intriguing label of 'Local Motion'
spelled out in vibrant purple letters and then picked up one other item. 

Bodie simply grinned at me from his sitting position near the headboard of
the bed as I turned around and let him see the utilitarian pair of
handcuffs dangling conspicuously from my right index finger.

"You sure?" he asked. "I've got a nice fur-lined set somewhere around
here."

"Not on a first date," I said and let the cuffs fall free. They glittered
silver-bright in a pool of sunshine on the floor. I tossed him the tube
and he caught it out of the air. "This okay?"

He studied the stuff with all the air of a university professor. Or a wine
connoisseur.

"Yeah," he said, then looked back at me and spread his legs until I could
see his cock framed between those strong thighs. Until I could see just
how hard he was. 

What I was asking for.

I swallowed and began walking towards him, feeling the weight of my own
erection bobbing and throbbing with each step. Watching his eyes fall to
look at me. 

I watched him swallow as well. "You know, sunshine," he said in almost a
conversational tone. "You could fuck *me*."

"Sure," I said, my knees hitting the edge of the bed. "But I want you to
fuck me. Today, anyway."

"And tomorrow?"

I shrugged and climbed up on the bed, crawling over to him. Crawling
between his spread legs, which spread even more to accommodate me.

He was so solid, so warm, and his arms enfolded me as I kissed him.
Lightly, briefly, before pulling back again to smile right into his eyes. 

"No promises, remember," I said softly. "But, yeah... that sounds good."

He didn't smile back, but the blue in his eyes seemed to intensify. And
then he was holding me even closer, burying his face in my neck, breathing
hard --as if he was caught somewhere between laughing and crying.

I felt like laughing myself, but then caught my breath as he lifted the
both of us and rolled us over until he was on top. We'd been in this
position before, but this time I had asked for it. I knew what he wanted
and what I wanted and that they were one and the same. 

Bodie with me. *In* me. Making us one.

Bodie lifted his head and looked at me and I knew he was thinking the same
thing, feeling the same way. Chalk and cheese, yeah, but not today. Not
for this.

Without a word, without taking our eyes off each other, we shifted around
until he was laying between my legs. Bodie stole a pillow from the head of
the bed and positioned it beneath the small of my back, lifting my hips
higher. Then he opened that tube with fingers that only trembled slightly,
spreading a thick gob of clear cool gel onto them, before spreading it on
his cock, from tip to base and back again, making it look even more
slippery wet. He squeezed some more gel out then and set the tube aside,
not bothering to re-cap it. 

"Slow and easy," he said quietly. "Might hurt some at first, but I swear
it will get better. It does get better."

I nodded, unable to trust my voice at that moment. Not as much as I
trusted him anyway.

Still, I tensed up as I felt his fingers touch me there, where no one had
ever touched me before. Well, at least not without a pair of rubber gloves
and a medical certificate. Bodie's touch was far gentler though, far more
considerate, rubbing at me softly before pushing the tip of one finger
inside. The gel was cool, but his finger was hot. It also felt far larger
than it looked, and I tensed up some more. 

"Shhh," Bodie whispered, not taking his eyes off me. "C'mon, sunshine.
It's okay. Just let it happen."

Slowly, I relaxed and even more slowly, he worked that finger up inside
me, until I could feel his knuckles pressing against me. It didn't really
hurt, but it felt weird. Still, as he began moving it in and out of me,
carefully, easily, it began to feel oddly good as well.

I had started moving with it a little, when Bodie pulled it free and put
two fingers up against me instead. This time, it hurt when he pushed them
inside, but I worked to make myself relax without being told, breathing
through it, staring up at him, at that look of concentration on his face.
At those beautiful eyes.

No man should have eyes as beautiful as his. But then I'd never really
looked into a bloke's eyes before, let alone at the rest of him, in quite
the way I was looking at my partner now, feeling his fingers working in
and out of me, a little bit of pleasure now mingled with the pain. More
pleasure then I would have thought possible. 

"Ray?"

"Mmm..." 

"Okay?"

I nodded. Bodie smiled. Then he leaned down and kissed me, his fingers
still buried all the way inside me, putting pressure on something that
felt even better than good, that made my cock suddenly ache, it felt so
hard. 

I moaned into his mouth and he stole the sound from me, pressing even
harder until I was writhing in his grip, unable to stop myself, as
sharp-edged pleasure shot through me again and again. White edges of
liquid light shivered behind my eyes as they slid shut all on their own,
as I tilted my hips further back and slid my legs down his calves, trying
to pull him even closer to me. To get those fingers deeper inside me.

Bodie was kissing my jaw now, my neck, biting at my shoulder. Mumbling
something, I couldn't quite hear. Only the tone, that low, growling sound
of hunger and desperation that had already grown familiar to me. 

He bit me again, even rougher, then his fingers slid out of me and grabbed
my cock instead, squeezing me hard and stroking me even harder. Me arching
into his touch, into his grip. Wanting more, wanting it all.

Mumbling myself. Words that sounded like orders, like pleas, like now,
now, now and, please, Bodie, please...

And then Bodie's mouth was on mine again, bruising hard and determined,
and he had let go of my cock and grabbed his. Was shoving it right up
against me, shoving it right into me, the sudden shearing pain of it
making me shake, making me gasp. I tensed up and he must have felt it
right off, because he froze instantly, and lifted his head.

"Christ, Ray," he breathed, his eyes burning. "Oh, Jesus Christ... I'm
sorry."

I shuddered again and felt him start to slide out of me. Desperately, I
clasped him tight to me again, not letting him go. 

"No, Bodie." My voice sounded raw. "Don't... it's all right."

The look on his face said no, it wasn't, but I nodded at him and managed
to smile just a little. I closed my eyes and began to concentrate on
relieving the pain, on forcing myself to relax again, and after a bit, it
began to ease off some, until what I felt was more pressure than anything
else. The pressure of the head of Bodie's cock lodged just inside me.

Bodie's cock...

I shuddered again, but, this time, it was a shudder of pleasure instead of
pain. Of pure sensation.

"Ray?"

"Go on," I said. "Do it."

He hesitated long enough that I opened my eyes again, looking at him. At
the tender, scared look on his face, so at odds with his normal
devil-may-care attitude. 

"I didn't - "he said.

"I know," I replied. "It really is okay, Bodie. Don't stop now. Now
that..."

*We're so close* was what I was going to say, but Bodie was already
nodding, his hands moving to grasp my upper arms as he shifted and pushed
a little bit further inside me. I arched into the pressure, this time,
then glanced down between us as he pushed again, watching in both
fascination and disbelief as his prick disappeared further into my body.
That big red, rigid dick, that I swore I could now feel throbbing inside
me. Deeper than his fingers had gone and then deeper still as he thrust
again. Splitting me open, making me surrender to him, to the lust in his
eyes and the look of mute determination on his face.

Mute love.

Because what else could it be? What else could I be feeling? Especially
once he sunk home at last, his prick buried all the way inside me, and his
balls tickling at the sensitive skin of my arse, when I felt him shudder
on top of me, way the fuck inside me, and let out this long, convulsive
breath of air. Like he'd been holding it forever.

It still hurt, but as he paused there, the hurt eased into something
beyond pain. Because it was him on top of me, his sweat dripping down on
me, and his flesh inside me. His weight driving me down into the bed,
where sunlight was spilling across our bodies now, warm on my skin and
highlighting the hair on Bodie's body, the flex and pull of all those
muscles, his black, black hair, and the white flash of his teeth as he
grinned at me. More of that mute love on display for everyone to see.

Except that the only person here to see it was me, and I knew how to keep
his secrets as well as my own. Maybe, even better.

At least the secrets that he'd actually shared with me.

His hands slid up from my forearms to cup my face, to hold it as he bent
and kissed me again. A long, sweet kiss that made me actually feel like I
was melting inside. Just like some stupid bird. Like in all those romance
novels that they liked to read. 

But Bodie was no rough-and tumble stranger with a heart of gold. He was my
rough-and-tumble partner with a heart of stone, but a heart that clearly
had a small tender spot hiding out somewhere, a small tender spot that
obviously had some part of me stashed away inside it. He could deny it all
he liked.

But Bodie was denying me nothing right now as his tongue knotted up with
my own, as his lips slicked over mine again and again. As he pulled back a
little and then thrust inside me once more, a slippery kick deep in my
guts, my own cock twitching in response.

I slid one hand up his shoulder, across toned muscle and bone, then
touched the nape of his neck. The hair there was damp with sweat, short,
soft, black hair, and I kissed him back, kissed him as deeply as he was
kissing me. Felt him thrusting into me over and over, going a little
further each time, going in a little harder.

And it *was* pleasurable. It was good, and graceful, and right, so
supremely right. Bodie's body sliding in tune with my own, the bed
creaking beneath us in that rhythm I knew so well --but had never before
known with him. His cock coming home repeatedly with a wet slap against my
arse, everything else slowly fading away around me, leaving just the smell
of him, the smell of the both of us, that musky moist sex smell, and the
heat steadily growing inside me, the need. The wonder.

"More," I mumbled. "Bodie... now..."

He tore his mouth away from mine and blindly nuzzled at the curve of my
neck. I felt the scrape of his teeth on my skin and then he was pulling
out of me, pulling almost all the way free and pushing back in again.
Pushing in *hard*. And I could feel him sliding in, every last inch of
him, and then grinding to a halt when he could go no more. But I wanted
more, so much more. 

"Harder," I hissed. "Fuck me, Bodie. Fuck me. Jesus..."

Bodie shuddered and then he was shifting up and shifting me with him, his
hands sliding under me, digging into my lower back, and he was thrusting
into me as fast and hard as he could, his whole body straining with it,
not holding anything back, no longer afraid of hurting me. And there was
no pain at all anymore, at least none that I was aware of. 

All I could feel was heat and pressure, searing right through me, driving
through my veins, making my head and my chest ache. Making my cock burn.
Incandescent pleasure, a spiraling sensation. Me clutching the other man
as tight to me as I could, wanting to take him with me. Never wanting to
let him go again.

Wanting him to come inside me.

My fingers closed on his arse, yanking him into me over and over, and then
I knew that he was, as he moaned and stopped completely for a second, then
thrust into me quick and hard several times, before crying out jaggedly.
His cock was as deep inside me as it could go, gushing hot and hard. And
as that liquid heat filled me, I felt my own dick surge, that spiraling
pleasure twisting into something so ecstatic that I could hardly stand it.


And then I couldn't. Not any of it. Suddenly, I wasn't aware of anything
*but* the pleasure of that steel-hard prick all the way up inside me,
couldn't feel anything but my own cock spilling out what was left of my
life's blood, both of us coming and coming and coming. Bodie pumping
himself into me and me spurting free all over his stomach and chest. Just
before my senses shut down for good. 

It seemed a long time later, but was probably only a few moments, before I
managed to pry my eyes open a little and found that I had collapsed back
down into the bed. That Bodie had sunk down with me, one hand still
twisted into my hair and the other lying lax on my shoulder. We were
breathing together, one shivering breath after another, and as I glanced
down at him, he lifted his head slightly and looked at me with this dazed
glazed expression on his face. This well-fucked look that I had seen
before, but never appreciated half as much until now.

His cock twitched inside me.

My own twinged against his stomach, as I smiled.

And he fell asleep.

Like it had always been as easy as that. Like it always would be. But, as
I said, I shoulda know it wouldn't last. That nothing that good ever does.

'Cause neither Bodie nor the cavalry are coming for me this time. Even the
omnipotent Cowley doesn't seem likely to save the day today. Not when
they're miles and miles away, no doubt still dealing with the partners of
the men I ended up trying to chase down. Bloody stupid thing to do all on
my own, without any hope of backup, yeah, but it *was* my job. 

I had run into them by accident, but it was no accident that shot the
right front tyre of the Capri out from under me. That ended up with me at
the bottom of this steep little hollow, this untouched strand of thick
Welsh forest way the fuck off the beaten track, all gold and red and
orange like a painter's dream. Lovely autumn leaves and a gray dripping
wet sky half hidden above them. 

Down in the mud and broken branches and moss, with my ribs and my head all
busted up and my left leg trapped between a crooked tree trunk and the
weight of the car. 

I tasted blood when I finally woke up from the crash, and found I was
unable to reach my R/T, which had somehow ended up in a patch of lingering
wildflowers well out of arm's reach. Like all those little white and blue
flowers hadn't heard the word, that October had already arrived. 

And I don't know how long I've been here. How long I was unconscious
before then. Just that I'm damp all the way through, and can't stop
shivering and can't seem to get my eyes to focus straight for long. That
it hurts too much to try. 

Just like it hurts that he's not here. That I never told him how beautiful
his eyes were. How much I loved him. 

That I knew he loved me, too.

*Bodie... *

And we hadn't made promises. But we had believed them all the same.
Especially after that showdown with Cowley, when we stood shoulder to
shoulder and didn't let him break us up. When we'd dared him to kick us
out, then breathed a common sigh of relief when he hadn't. After which,
he'd given us, if not his blessing, then his reluctant acceptance.

Six months ago, almost seven, since that night we first got together but
it still feels like yesterday. Like we never had enough time. Enough of
each other. 

We'd been planning a long weekend away, just the two of us this time. No
birds. No worries. Just getting out of the city, getting back to nature,
getting together. Doing a spot of fishing and hiking and snogging. Mostly
snogging. Maybe even having it off behind some tree out in the middle of
nowhere, me with leaves in my hair like some ruddy wood nymph gone to seed
and Bodie smirking at my concerns over the thought of anyone having heard
us. Not really caring if anyone heard us.

No one can hear me here. Even if I could find the strength to shout
anymore. It's a quiet woods, just the sound of the rain coming down from
that gunmetal sky; we could have fucked here quite comfortably. Rain or
shine. Bodie wouldn't have minded the rain. Whether it was his arse ended
up down in the mud or mine. 

Yeah, it hurts, but that hurts more. Knowing we'll never be together
again. Knowing that his heart might turn completely to stone once I've
gone. 

That he deserves so much better.

So much more. 

So much more than even what I could give him. More than just these last
six months, bloody wonderful as they were. Too bloody short.

Rain is dripping into my face from the leaves above me and I'm so thirsty.
So tired. It's getting dark out now, or maybe it's 'cause I can't hardly
keep my eyes open anymore. I need him so bad. I don't want to die. I don't
want to leave him all alone, no one to guard his back, no one to buy him
Swiss rolls. No one to tease him out of a bad mood or make him do his
reports or lick him, suck him, fuck him all night long. No one to kiss him
in the morning, bad breath or not, and grouse about making him breakfast
once again. About him stealing all the sheets. About not getting a break.
About how lousy the job can be. 

The job we both wanted, but not as much as we'd wanted each other. 

But I can't keep my eyes open at all anymore and no one knows I'm here and
no one is coming and I'm cold, so cold, and it's dark here. Dark as a
white rug and spilled milk and cool Asian eyes. As a rotting under
basement and dust swirling up from broken stone.

I should have told him. Promises or no promises. 

I should have told him...

So very cold...

Bodie, *please*...

Please...

"Ray? Sunshine? Ah, *Christ*..."

Distantly, I feel hands shake me, hold me, lift me a little. Hear a
trembling voice shouting instructions, demands. I still can't get my eyes
open, but I know that voice. I know those hands. And it's impossible, but
then it always was. It was always hard work and settling into each other
and tearing each other's head off sometimes and magic. 

It was mostly magic.

Magic and the taste of his mouth as I feel him bend down and kiss me, a
long, lingering, wishful kiss --like *that* ever really works except in
fairytales --and there's suddenly more rain on my face, only its salty.
It's his. And it has to be real, it has to. 

And then I swear I hear Cowley's voice all of a sudden, and Murphy's, and
Bodie's still kissing me. Like he doesn't care if they all see, if they
all know. Like his stone heart would break if he doesn't. 

And I can't die today. I can't. 

Because he won't let me. Because he loves me. Because we took a chance.

And because there's no other choice. Not this time. 

Not this time. 

-- THE END --

*Originally published in *Secret Agent Men 2*, Devious Developments Press,
2003*

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