An Unexpected Result


Looking back, Ray still wasn't sure what motivated him to actually lay claim to Bodie, but he was sure it started with all the pawing his partner had been forced to endure.

They had been sent in undercover separately on what was supposed to be a fact-finding obbo. Some disturbing intel had come across Cowley's desk that oddly enough, had been confirmed by a grass of Bodie's on his dying breath. Not that either was much in itself, but Cowley had an itch, and when he couldn't scratch it immediately the whole department knew what that meant. It meant no one would be getting much rest until he did. And damn if those itches didn't usually mean CI5 might be on the verge of a real break.

Bodie had received word through central that a grass of his, Wally Parks, was wanting a meet. When they had arrived at the call box, they found Wally knifed in the back a few feet away.

Bodie rolled him over and checked for a pulse. He rubbed Park's face after finding one, "Wally."

Wally opened his eyes and recognised the CI5 man. He gasped horribly but fought to get out a few words, "It's a bad one, Bodie, he kills the courier. Art and guns."

"Who, Wally?" Bodie was hoping for a name. He got one.

"Gastauv. Phillip Gastauv."

"Hold on, Wally, help's coming." Bodie looked over his shoulder and saw his partner already on the R/T.

It arrived too late for Wally. He died on the concrete in front of the call box on a dirty London street.

"That's the only name he gave you?" Cowley questioned his operatives.

"Yes, sir. He said, art and guns; he kills the courier and Gastauv's name."

"Not much to go on." Alpha One barked, not so much at his men but at the lack of anything substantial.

"No, sir," Bodie agreed.

Cowley continued as though Bodie hadn't spoken. "But, that dove tails with information I've received."

"What?" Doyle asked.

"Nothing hard. We need facts. Then proof. That's your job. You're off the Miller case. Get down to records and find out all you can on Phillip Gastauv."

The CI 5 men vacated the controller's office as quickly as they could.

"I hate fact finding."

"Oh, Bodie, I'm sure we'll find somebody for you to shoot."

"That's okay, then."

Records proved a good place to start; there were several files on the Frenchman. After signing out for them, Bodie and Doyle headed down to the computer room.

Bodie put on his nicest smile, "Becky, love, could you print us all we've got on Phillip Gastauv."

Becky looked up from her imputing. "There's two ahead in queue." She smiled at the agent's pouting look.

"How long do you figure?" Doyle asked.

"Couple of hours."

"We'll be back. Becky love." Bodie shifted gears accordingly. "Time for something to eat."

They grabbed sandwiches and sodas from a vendor and elected to eat them downstairs with the files they did have.
Phillip Gastauv was born in 1938 in Hédauville, France.

Raised by an Irish mother that never severed her ties. Her hate caused her death when Phillip was twelve but it lives on in her son.

Amassed a large fortune; not thought legally, but unable to prove otherwise.

Began in the field of art, procuring hard to find objects d'art. Helped in the recovery of stolen works of art; on retainer by the National Gallery.

Went private six years later. It was after this time that he amassed his wealth. Believed to have began the arms running.

"Well, seems like another skiving sod." Bodie closed the file.

"Hopefully, Becky will come up with something more helpful.

"Game on the box tonight." Bodie said by way of an invitation.

"Curry or chicken?" Doyle wasn't in the mood to cook.

"I'd be happy with either." Bodie smiled at Ray's acceptance.

"Do I need to stop at the off-licence?"

"Nah, got plenty, I do."

They headed back down to records.

Doyle arrived just seconds before Bodie's Capri. Both men had been called in an hour earlier that originally requested. Bodie held the door open for his partner but they walked side by side down the corridor to Cowley's office.

Betty noted their arrival and pointed to the door, "Go right in. He wants to see you immediately."

"What about?" Doyle asked with a smile.

Betty's expression remained bland and she shrugged.

"What did you do now?" Bodie blamed his partner after giving the Controller's secretary a grand smile.

It was Doyle's turn to shrug.

Bodie knocked on the door.

"Come in." Cowley's voice was loud and clear.

They entered to find that their boss was not alone. They stood and waited for the introductions.

"Bodie, Doyle, Inspectors Louis Breteuil, Interpol and James Belform, MI5. Your information gathering on Phillip Gastauv raised a few red flags."

The CI5 men shook hands and sat, awaiting the reason they were actually brought in.

Inspector Breteuil began, "We have circumstantially connected Gastauv to several international art thefts."

"MI5 believes that he supplies arms to the IRA," the MI5 agent paused before confessing, "But we don't have a shred of proof."

"Mr Cowley mentioned an informant that named Gastauv," the Frenchman queried. An excited anticipation could be heard in his voice.

"Yes, Wally Parks. Now dead. His last words were guns and art and that `he` kills the courier. Gastauv's name was mentioned separately," Bodie told the Interpol agent.

"Ah, that is why we can never make the connection. We can find no middleman. And, that is why the delivery is always made by a different person," Breteuil was pleased with any additional information. He made notes.

"So we need to get someone in as a courier." Belform looked from Cowley to Doyle.

"We don't even know who the couriers have been, let alone how they died or where," Doyle reminded them abruptly, ignoring the hint.

Louis Breteuil knew that the Englishman was about to bungle getting the CI5 co-operation and chose to draw them in with information.

"The guns have been the only solid lead we've obtained. We have long suspected that a great deal of stolen art has been smuggled in and out of England via Gastauv." The Interpol agent was quite frank with his material.

"One would think that art would be easier to trace and identify," Bodie asked, puzzled.

"Ah, but that's it, most stolen art is never seen again, except by the buyer. Most pieces end up in a very private collection, the type of collection that is hidden away in an underground vault. Most art theft is a crime of passion," the Frenchman explained.

"Crime of passion?" Bodie had to bite his lip to keep himself from laughing.

"No, I can see that," Doyle interjected, "Most of the time art is personal. Something in a piece of art work may make a connection and the person becomes obsessed and then they must have it." Doyle nodded to himself, understanding.

"Also, there are those sinfully rich that have no fun unless they can obtain what no other collector has." Breteuil had encountered that type many times.

"Phillip Gastauv doesn't have that kind of money," Doyle commented, he had just read the file.

"No, he is the middleman and a transporter. The art for him is a ruse. It's all about funding the arms he ships to Northern Ireland. A legacy from his mother; to hate a place he's never lived." The Frenchman had a full dossier on the art broker.

Bodie remained silent. Ireland was a discussion he had no wish to participate in.

Obviously, neither did Doyle, as he changed the subject. "Key people to look for?"

"Two men. They've been with Gastauv the whole time, no matter the country. Juan Paulo Christilo and Remi Barras." Belform removed their pictures from his case and placed them on Cowley's desk.

"He has a gallery in the West End, on Oxford Street, near Hanover Square," Cowley said with knowledge.

"Yes, The Paladin."

"He's shopping all next week," Doyle said vaguely as he flipped through the gallery brochure.

"So, he won't be in town," Belform said, very disappointed.

"No, shopping for new talent. He's sponsoring a week for new artists to come and show their work. Get a few pointers and possible vetting for a show," Doyle explained. Head still buried in the brochure, he missed the speculative looks.

"Oi, Doyle, you can go, share your work, get a first hand look." Bodie grinned, knowing Ray would hate that.

"Excellent idea, Bodie." Alpha One agreed.

"Ta much, mate," Doyle told his partner while scowling at him.

Cowley had already thought it himself, but was glad to let Bodie take credit for the idea, then the volatile agent could take his ire out on his partner. "And you, Bodie, can hire out as a model for the demo days." Tipping his hand that he had prior knowledge of what a shopping entailed.

Doyle had to suck in a laugh at his partner's offended and pouting expression.

"But, sir..." Bodie started to voice a complaint.

Cowley all but ignored 3.7. He directed his gaze to 4.5, "All art supply expenses or items lost will be compensated."

The Controller of CI5 didn't say by whom and Louis Breteuit felt sure that his organisation would be receiving that bill.

Doyle registered and after the viewing of his portfolio, was accepted into the workshop. Since art school, he had only dabbled, using his drawing as an emotional outlet. He was quite realistic about his abilities or lack thereof and knew they held no real commercial value. So, Ray had to admit he was surprised at the enthusiasm in which his work was received.

In fact, he was invited back for a second week that was by invitation only and less than half the participants were extended invitations. He couldn't help but note that all the attendees were male and most seemed queer. Ray figured his fey looks had once again put him into that category.

This second week had been different, Gastauv had been very hands on. His hands were all over the artist's hair, face, and buttocks. When the models showed up on the second say, all male, Gastauv's hands were all over them as well. Gastauv would rub up against the models as they were posing. He'd leave them hard and erect and with a promise for later.

Mimicking their host's behaviour, many of the artists would brush up or caress a model as they passed by. Ray reframed, spending more time on his canvass and sketchbook. He made a drawing of each of the men that Gastauv met with.

On the third day, Bodie showed up as one of the models. Most of the eyes in the studio were on him, Gastauv's included.

Bodie copied the other models and started to disrobe, not yet realising how far he was expected to go. Many hands had already made grabs at him, some rather risqué.

Bodie was a professional. Doyle knew he could handle it. What astounded him the most was his own reaction. Knowing that the others would most likely fondle and touch Bodie like the models yesterday was abhorrent. But even worse was the thought that Gastauv would rub himself lasciviously against Bodie's taut body and that galvanised Doyle into an action he would never have guessed he was capable of.

Before Bodie could touch his belt, before any other hand could reach out and touch his skin, Doyle propelled himself across the studio. In front of all there, Ray closed the gap between them, then reached around and grabbed one arse cheek, pulling him closer. The other hand hooked into Bodie's hair as Ray's lips laid siege. His tongue was in and down Bodie's throat in a single movement.

There was no hesitation in Bodie' response. His hands whipped around the lanky body and gripped both buttocks as his own tongue tried to reciprocate all that was done to him.

Gastauv and the other artists watched the instantaneous attraction with envy. The two men seemed so in tune so quickly.

The misgivings the Frenchman had had regarding the reticent artist vanished in the blatant display of lust.

Doyle ran his hand back and forth from Bodie's buttocks to groin. His fingers would stray, tracing the erection pressed taut against the jean material. He didn't even stop to consider Bodie's condition, let alone that his own mirrored his partner's.

Bodie tossed his head back with a moan and Doyle knew intuitively that he had pushed his partner past his limit. He would have to do something here in public or possibly blow their cover.

Ray's teeth nipped the exposed white neck as his fingers opened the zip and freed the pulsing sex. Bodie arched into his touch, lost.

Doyle heard the whispered hopes to be the next in line for Bodie and he knew he could not allow any other to touch what was his. He laid his full, public claim as he sucked the leaking erection into his mouth.

He copied what had been done to him by birds and what he had read while at the Met. What did work best was his self-knowledge of what he liked and Bodie's reactions to what he was doing. It didn't take but a few sucks and swirls of his tongue, followed by more sucking to send Bodie over. He swallowed all Bodie produced, knowing it was expected. He was surprised again in his own ability to actually accomplish it skilfully.

But the most startling thing overall was the feeling of possession that seized him. He would not share Bodie with any one and his look to each person in the studio conveyed just that.

Sated blue eyes could read the fever pitch desire that still raged in the green and Bodie reciprocated the same for Doyle. The freed erection was sucked deep into Bodie's throat and just a few rhythmic squeezes of throat muscles had Doyle spilling all he had.

They survived the catcalls as they headed to the loo to clean up. Once inside, Doyle pulled his partner close and kissed him before nibbling on his ear to whisper, "Every room has closed circuit TV. Don't think they have audio, but can't be sure."

Bodie digested the information dispassionately and returned the kiss with apparent enthusiasm. When they broke to calm their rising arousal, Bodie whispered in the closest ear, "And what's all this in the aid of?"

The question was asked so matter-of-factly it belied the actual condition of the achingly hard erection pressed against his partner's thigh.

"They would have had their hands all over you, Bodie, especially Gastauv. He's already fucked most the models from yesterday." Doyle didn't add that he just couldn't stand seeing the others paw his partner. He sighed to himself, but he had just laid public claim to the man and Bodie would want an explanation. "If they think your more than a casual fuck they'll probably leave you alone."

Bodie saw the concern in Doyle's eyes and was touched. He nibbled beneath the ear, "They'll think we're poofters."

Doyle swallowed an incredulous laugh, "They already do, mate. You do remember we've just had relatively public sex?"


"Well, there were only eight guys in the studio," Doyle rolled his head so Bodie would work on the other side.

"Only eight? And that's not public? What would be public for you then, mate?" Bodie was amused. He licked the exposed throat, pulling the lean body closer.

"Oh," Doyle had an after thought, "And whomever's watching the monitors." He shivered as Bodie nipped his ear. "Bodie, you did notice that all the artists and models are male, didn't you?"

Bodie replayed the memory of his entrance into the studio behind the other models, "All male, all gay. Including you?" Bodie's tongue was once more playing with Ray's lips.

"The hair," Ray said breathlessly, "Always the hair." He met the tongue's invasion with equal fervour.

"The skin-tight jeans that display your tight round arse would never suggest ideas, I'm sure?" Bodie loved the hair and didn't want Doyle changing it. Ever.

Ray didn't have an answer but he was saved from even trying as his lips were once again captured and devoured. Breathless, Doyle finally pulled back and rested his head against Bodie's shoulder. "I don't want Gastauv thinking he can have you next. We need to do something more possessive."

Bodie smiled to himself, he just bet Ray didn't even hear himself. "More possessive than public fellatio?" Bodie wasn't objecting, just curious as to how Ray was justifying this to himself. Bodie was a practical man, he decided after the first liplock he would take all he could get from Ray, for whatever reason his partner used. Wishes of any sort rarely came true, but this was close.

"Something more, that I can use as an excuse to say this wasn't a one-off."

"You wanting my arse, Doyle?" Just the thought hardened his already hard prick and Bodie had to move carefully to avoid an injury.

Ray thought about the offer seriously, "I think it's the only way to keep you safe, Bodie. Otherwise, Gastauv will take you. I'll make it as easy as I can, and Bodie," Ray looked his partner in the eyes, "We're equal partners, so you'll return the favour."

Bodie pointed to the hand cream before unbuckling his belt and lowering his jeans and pants. He pressed his arms against the wall and rested his head on them as he bent over to grant his partner access; his hard sex bobbing in anticipation.

Ray sucked in his breath as he realised that the round cheeks were beautiful. He ran his hands all over the sweet arse before reaching for the cream and lowering his own clothes. He warmed the lotion before rubbing it on and inside the beckoning hole.

It was paramount to Doyle that he didn't hurt his partner and despite Bodie's plea to get on with it, Doyle took his time in preparing his mate. He made sure to rub against the prostate in his desire to give as much pleasure as he could. He lubed himself quickly and positioned his weeping shaft at the opening. Ray didn't examine how bad he wanted in, he just pressed on and in to the most satisfying fuck of his life.

After the public display, Phillip Gastauv entered his security room and checked the monitor of the loo the two disappeared into. His eyes became riveted to the screen. The artist was now fucking the model and it was glorious.

"Those two are randy rabbits," Carl, his security captain remarked, eyes upon the screen.

"Did you record it?" Gastauv asked.

"Absolutely. It's too bad about the audio, I'm sure they were talking dirty."

Phillip shrugged in a French way, "The cameras, where ever they're placed, come under security, but audio would be considered an invasion of privacy in a public place."

"The residence?"

"I'm working on it," Gastauv said with a smile. His eyes fixed on the two men as they sagged to the floor.

"Look, curly hair is cleaning up the model." Carl couldn't keep the lust out of his voice.

Gastauv watched with a thoughtful look, "Yes, the artist is very possessive. The model will be hands off for a bit." He watched the artist grab onto the model possessively and drag him from the loo. The model was wearing that I've-been-shagged-long-and-hard look and Gastauv itched to be the one to put that expression on the blue-eyed looker. He fingered his own erection as he thought about it.

When they were back in the studio, Ray Doyle found he didn't want Bodie posing nude. He made himself believe it was for his partner's sake, the ever-modest Bodie. He was unwilling to acknowledge that it was far more personal.

Ray posed Bodie himself. Shirt off, jeans on but unbuttoned, revealing nothing but with just a hint of what could happen. He had his partner sitting down, slouched, legs spread open wide, feet bare. He still wore the look of a recent shag and Doyle got that down on paper first.

His fingers quickly drew the full pose, then lingered on the facial expression. He got down on paper what the eyes revealed without a conscious acknowledgement of the meaning. Doyle had what he'd wanted for ages, the freedom to paint Bodie and he worked tirelessly for the rest of the day.

As the sponsoring benefactor, Gastauv checked out the artists' progress and found most portraits were of the blue-eyed Bodie. He immediately arranged for the model to return the following day.

By Friday, the three artists for the upcoming showing were selected. They were invited to Gastauv's home for the celebration party that would kick off their weekend stay.

Doyle made the cut. He had to admit that he was surprised, he thought several of the others were better than him or the twins.

Doyle would have been equally surprised to discover that his host was thinking the same thing. Because Gastauv knew that the model would not continue here without the artist, so for that reason alone Doyle was included. Their daily visit to the loo proved that. They took fellatio to a whole new level, but it was the fucking that was proving hard to resist. The blue-eyed Adonis never looked better than after a hard fucking. Doyle was persistent and he wasn't leaving room for anyone else to make a move.

But he had plans; he wanted Bodie for himself.

Cowley was pleased with Doyle's sketches. They confirmed contacts with various known gunrunners and several that weren't known within the UK.

Inspector Breteuil was delighted, "That explains one mystery. We get nothing from the telephone taps. I congratulate you, your men are the first successful undercover agents to be placed inside the gallery."

Cowley took the compliment in stride, "Well-oiled machines with chameleon abilities."

"My men tell me that a lot of warehouse action and merchandise shifting is currently taking place. This usually precedes a buy, so one must be in the works. We now have a chance to discover how it is accomplished; in the past we have searched and found the contents to match the manifests. We stand to apprehend all involved, or at least identify them."

"I'll keep Bodie and Doyle where they are. We will need to bring in a lot more personnel. Your men will keep the warehouse under surveillance at all times. Mine will follow whomever shows up. I will also send some men into the party, Bodie and Doyle will need a contact and possible backup." The CI5 Controller was already dialling before the Interpol agent could agree.

3.7 and 4.5 left Alpha One's office and headed toward the armoury.

"You did note that our fact finding mission has now become a full blown undercover op, didn't you?" Bodie asked as he dug in his pockets for his keys.

"Yeah, we have to stay the weekend with Phillip and Murph will be moving into the undercover flat. I'd love to see how they're flushing out our backgrounds." Doyle mused as he fell behind his partner.

"The Cow will send it along so we don't make a gaff about our own lives. I don't like going in without our R/Ts." Bodie held the door for his partner.

They entered the armoury and passed over the request sheet.

Doyle rapped the counter with his fingers, "I don't like it either. How do we get back up if we need it, I ask you?"

"I feel like we're going in with pee shooters. Like me own weapon, I do," Bodie checked the smaller weapon the armoury's manger handed across.

"Better than nothing, I don't want to be going in without any protection, mate." He signed out for the weapon before turning to face his partner.

"I've got your back." Bodie tried to relieve the worry he heard in his partner's voice.

Doyle nodded, preoccupied with a different concern. He had to make sure that he kept Gastauv off Bodie's back.

They bypassed the restroom and opted for going straight to the car park. Food was to be their first stop before they resumed their undercover roles.

Both CI5 men arrived prepared to stay the weekend. They arrived together to complete the illusion of togetherness and they were shown to the same room.

Doyle was relieved on that point, but it still didn't alleviate his overall worry.

They checked for audio and video equipment while they unpacked. They found several cameras, including two in the bathroom, but no evidence of any audio equipment.

Knowing he could speak freely, Doyle did so as he unpacked, "Gastauv is just short of openly panting after you and he's a dangerous man."

"I must be falling down on the job if he isn't openly panting," Bodie quipped.

Doyle was not amused, "I'm not fooling around, Bodie. He wants you." The serious tone only emphasised the warning being given.

Bodie rolled his eyes, "I know it, don't I. It would be hard to miss. He's been copping a feel when ever he thinks you wouldn't notice." Bodie didn't like the strange hands on his body.

"I think it's more, Bodie. I think he's obsessed with you."

Bodie waited, his partner's tone indicated that something had happened that he was just getting around to telling him.

"He wanted the first portrait I did of you. Offered me a lot of money and when I said no, he threatened me."

"Ah, that's why I had to pose at the flat." Bodie nodded.

"You have to be doubly careful," Doyle wasn't sure his partner was taking this seriously enough.

"Maybe it will put him off his game," Bodie considered the positive side.

Doyle half closed his eyes as he made a mental note to keep a closer eye on his partner. For his protection, of course.

They changed into their black tie garb and headed downstairs. The place was not only filled with the Who's Who of the art world, they noted many not so savoury guests as well.

First they mingled, sussing out the lay of the land. Then under the guise of neck nuzzling, Bodie pointed out Gastauv's henchman, Jaun Paulo Christilo and Remi Barras. This was the first time that either man had been seen by the undercover operatives. Both agreed by silent communication to keep them in their sights.

Murphy and McCabe entered the party an hour later on the arms of two beautiful models.

Doyle nudged his partner in the ribs and nodded to the new arrivals, "The Cow must have some pull, those two could never pull in birds like that."

"We could've, mate." Bodie commented securely.

"And we're modest as well." Ray smiled as the meandered over to the buffet tables.

They met the CI5 men at the seafood buffet. Murphy and McCabe were making plates for their dates.

"There appears to be a meeting of sorts happening in the wine cellar. The best we can hope is to follow the attendees when they depart." Doyle suggested.

"Well, the Cow has enough men to arrange that. He has the resources of Interpol and even the reluctant help of MI5." McCabe told them while stuffing his face with prawns.

"You signal when the meeting breaks up and will get the tails on `em," Murphy said before adding crab to his plate. "Cowley wanted you to finish out the weekend."

Doyle had a bad feeling but didn't object. He wasn't sure he could put into words that his fear centred on Bodie.

After they filled their stomachs, they kept close to the wine cellar door by dwelling in the alcove across from it. They cuddled, trading neck nuzzles. Doyle convinced himself it was strictly for job, and he always tried to give one hundred percent. He pulled Bodie closer and made it look like he was staking a claim.

Their play-acting leant credence to why they were spending so much time half hidden from view. They appeared lost in each other the half-dozen different times that Gastauv passed by them. He was irritated to see that Bodie was still being monopolised by the artist. His meeting was nearly complete and afterward he would make a play that the model wouldn't be able to say no to.

McCabe and Murphy were both impressed with how realistic their CI5 mates could make their necking appear. They only wished they could take pictures for the restroom wall.

Gastauv's meeting broke and Bodie signalled Murphy, who was still arranging to have all the participants followed. Doyle played with his pendant each time they wanted a man followed.

Doyle focused his gaze on Gastauv and watched his host's eyes seek out Bodie and begin to weave his way through the crowd toward him. After receiving Murphy's confirmation of message received, Doyle grabbed Bodie by his loosened tie and dragged his man upstairs.

Bodie palmed Ray's tight arse and his partner wiggled it for effect. Ray noted with satisfaction the frustrated look on their host's face.

Once inside the room, Ray pushed Bodie to the wall, sucking his tongue onto his mouth. He devoured it like he'd been too long without it while at the same time he worked at disrobing his partner.

Bodie, giving equal measure, had Ray undressed first.

Ray reached for the lube and placed the tube in Bodie's hand; his jutting erection quivered in anticipation.

Bodie feasted on the round cheeks that had ever held his fascination. He palmed each half and separated them gently. He tongued the crackline, working his way to the solitary opening. Bodie loved the scent and taste of Ray and was lost in his own euphoria.

A fantasy come to life and he intended to make it last. He used his tongue to penetrate the opening. The wiggles and twitching communicated Ray's enjoyment and Bodie concentrated on compounding it.

"Bodie, I'm close," Ray gasped, finding it difficult to form the words.

Bodie replaced his tongue with a well lubbed finger and sought out the prostate. Ray's cry confirmed the connection. He then turned Ray onto his side and leaned over to capture his throbbing organ with his lips. He sucked the shaft as his finger rubbed the prostate and Ray came in five, long hard pulses, belying that he had come twice earlier in the day.

Bodie used Ray's sated and relaxed state to his advantage. He rolled his partner onto his back and breached the opening with two fingers. He met little resistance. He coated his own sex liberally and pressed into the opening gently.

Ray's eyes popped open and he smiled at the unusual fullness. He was so relaxed he didn't fight the intrusion whatsoever. Instead, he arched his hips to encourage Bodie to enter further. Needing no second request, Bodie pressed in and didn't stop until he was completely sheathed within his lover's body. He paused in wonder yet again, amazed that some wishes do come true.

His thrusts were slow and angled so that he could hit the prostate. It was important to give as much pleasure as he was receiving. Bodie discovered a truth as he sunk deep within Ray, he knew he was buried inside the love of his life.

Ray would probably laugh at his sentimentality, but even that didn't detract from the feeling. He thrust in deep and hard, guided by Ray's cry for more and his reawakened erection. Bodie grasped the burgeoning shaft in a matching rhythm and brought Ray all the way with him.

Ray couldn't believe that he could achieve another erection so close on the last one, but he was even more astounded that he could reach another orgasm. He forced his eyes open so he could watch Bodie's face. It was set in an expression of wonder and awe, his head was arched in ecstasy and Ray knew he'd need to see this again. He crested with his partner and fell back exhausted.

Bodie had just enough energy to get a flannel to clean Ray and himself. He crawled back into bed and pulled his lover close. With Ray tucked up next to his heart, Bodie followed Ray into sleep.

Gastauv couldn't help himself, he deserted his party for the monitor room. He watched the blue-eyes Adonis fuck the artist, but even to him it seemed like more. It was all that cuddling after orgasm, it spoke of more than lust. He wanted it and him. That fey artist just wouldn't be allowed to interfere. A different plan began to take shape.

More than half the guests from the party last night were still in residence when the CI5 men went down to breakfast.

The pre-breakfast fellatio for the cameras was a mutual 69, but Doyle wasn't sure how to justify taking Bodie in the shower where no cameras could see. When his partner put up no objection, Doyle pushed it to the back of his mind, sure that at a later date a reasonable explanation would present itself.

They ate and mingled until it was time to prepare for the art show. The display was to run the entire afternoon. Doyle had two canvasses for the showing, both pieces that he had from before last week. He couldn't display those he'd done of Bodie, and he certainly didn't want anyone else to purchase them.

The estate garden was filled with aspiring artists and their artwork in all mediums.

"I'm not sure this stuff is any better or worse than the stuff we saw at that private museum." Bodie commented in a low voice for Ray's ears alone.

"Well, art is very subjective. You still trying to improve your mind?" Doyle couldn't resist the jab.

Bodie didn't have to come up for an answer for Doyle's person was required inside. He had a phone call.

"Ray Dunn."

"Oh, Ray, It's Murph, I'm so glad I got you." The CI5 agent assumed the phone was being bugged and used his undercover role. "Our flat's been broken into."

"We're you there? Are you okay?" Ray asked.

"Oh, no, I was out shopping."

"Was anything taken?" Curious as to why Murphy was calling on an open line.

"Dunno, but who ever it was didn't like your art, love."

"How bad?" Doyle sounded concerned.

"Just a few pieces are ruined. It was like they were searching for something and were miffed that they didn't find whatever they were looking for." Murphy passed on the message.

"Okay, well, there's nothing I can do about it now. Stay with one of the crowd for the weekend and I'll get the locks changed on Monday. Thanks, Mopsey." Doyle sniggered to himself on the nickname.

Doyle walked back out to the garden and straight to Bodie's side. "The flat was broken into."

Puzzled, Bodie turned, handing Doyle's drink back to him, "Why? What would be there?"

Doyle leaned in close, "The original portrait of you." He took a sip of his drink, then looked his partner in the eye, "I told you he was obsessed with you. I told him I had painted over it cause it was flawed. Guess he didn't believe me."

"Don't see why not, the other artists have been doing it the whole week."

"Common practice, really, canvas can be expensive.

"Gastauv gave a couple of fancy looking oils to the twins. I thought I'd seen one of them before, but I wasn't paying much attention."

"Recognise how?"

"You know, from one of those museum catalogues."

Doyle shook his head, "Nah, too easy."

Bewildered, "Huh?"

"Could Gastauv have a stolen work painted over by an amateur, a pre-selected buyer picked and then have it bought as an amateur's work? .... He could send it anywhere, mate."

Bodie looked at Doyle, also thinking too easy, "Wouldn't Interpol have twigged onto it?"

Doyle's mind was racing with known facts. "One, they have been checking Gastauv, two, they have been checking fences and other known movers in the art world, and three, they haven't placed anyone inside, so they've not seen what you did. I never saw that and I have been here all week. You got to admit, it's possible, Bodie."

"Yeah, you may be onto something, we're not the Old Man's best team for nothing." Bodie grinned.

"We'll have to get a message to Murph. So he can get someone on all that's posted from here and any pick-ups sent privately. Especially the twins work."

Bodie nodded then asked, "Eh, so what about the other painting?"

Doyle answered the unasked question on Bodie's face. "It's back at my real flat. Like the others. I wouldn't let you be on display. The paintings were just for the obbo."

"Thanks, Goldielocks." Relieved.

"Said I'd protect you, mate, and I will."

Bodie felt a tenderness at Doyle's implied promise.

They mingled with the stay-over guests and the new ones that arrived continually throughout the day. These people all seemed a legitimate part of the art crowd. The lunch buffet gradually changed over to a dinner selection in the decorative gardens. People ate throughout the day, hardly distinguishing the change in the culinary selections.

Most of the art on display was labelled sold and that only added to the festive air the host had created. Just after the evening meal, Gastauv sought out Doyle and drew him aside.

"Your two landscapes sold well," the art benefactor handed Doyle a cheque for six hundred pounds. "The buyer has requested that you deliver the paintings, he wants to commission you to do more. This could be your big break." Phillip Gastauv seemed so sincere.

Doyle looked thoughtfully at the cheque in his hand. He knew it was a way to buy him off. On further thought, it could also be an offer to be courier. He remembered what the grass, Parks, had said about killing the couriers. This could be it. He schooled his features to convey pleased surprise.

"This is ruddy fantastic. Thank you. This is because of you. I'll never forget that." Doyle gushed as much as he thought a benefactor might expect.

"I'm sure you won't," Gastauv smiled, but the undercurrent didn't match the words. He watched the artist rejoin the model and had to restrain his snarl. Morning would come soon enough.

Bodie smiled up at his partner as he leaned over to kiss him before leaving. He watched him leave then stretched, deliciously sated and decided that Doyle's idea of a lie-in was indeed a good one. Bodie had to admit to himself that he loved the fact that the room was under video surveillance. Doyle's position in keeping him out of Gastauv's clutches had allowed for a variety of positions to be tried out, all in the line of duty.

Doyle had begged to be taken on his back and who was he to say no. Doyle was tight and hot, and Bodie had to fight coming too soon. He took Ray to the edge several times before letting them both climax.

He dozed thinking this was one undercover assignment that didn't seem too bad.

The door opening woke him. He thought it was Doyle until an odour that was not his partner assailed his nostrils. He lamented not having a gun under his pillow as he sat up awake and alert.

"Ah, Bodie, you look refreshed," Phillip Gastauv said as he stood at the foot of the bed.

"What are you doing here?" Bodie tried for indignant instead of demanding.

"Not the tone to take with your host. You've allowed yourself to be monopolised by that fey artist. I've come to change that." The lust was openly displayed across his features.

"I've allowed myself to be monopolised because that's what I want."

"Well, I want you." Gastauv moved around the bed and sat next to Bodie.

"I'm with Ray." Bodie was trying not to blow his cover, otherwise he would have already hauled off and hit him.

"I wasn't giving you an option." The Frenchman was trying to pull Bodie's face close, but the agent turned sharply aside.

Bodie felt a sharp sting on his neck and lost consciousness before he could complete a curse word.


Doyle drove to the warehouse district and followed the specific directions once there. He expected to see a few well placed patrol units, but maybe they were better than he figured.

His two canvasses were packed individually and each was so bulky that he couldn't help but believe that there was more than a single canvas in each. He would leave that for Cowley to unravel. He was beginning to feel edgy that he didn't see any men in place. He knew that Cowley would have men on all the players, as they didn't know where or when the courier was killed. Doyle hoped it wasn't first thing.

He parked and removed his spare gun from the glove box. He looked around and didn't like the eerie quiet, but he followed the instructions. He carried the two parcels inside warehouse seven as the directions specified. He was surprised by the emptiness. Only a dozen crates with Irish markings littered the warehouse floor. He made his way over to the crates and oddly enough was prepared for the man that stepped into view.

4.5 was surprised, though, to be greeted by the gun in Remi Barras' hand.

"What gives?" Doyle asked in his undercover role, still holding the paintings in his hands.

"Gastauv wants you gone. Permanently. He wants the model for himself." Barras laughed a dirty little laugh that implied all that his boss intended to do.

Panic gripped Doyle, this rendezvous wasn't about art, it was about Bodie. "He only had to ask."

"He doesn't like competition. Now, in the box." Barras pointed his gun hand toward the open crate.

The Frenchman's cohort wasn't expecting any trouble from the queer artist and so was surprised by the attack. Ray swung one canvas straight at Barras, hitting his shoulder and face. Gastauv's minion dropped to the floor momentarily dazed. He shook his head to clear it then swerved his gun back toward the artist. He didn't get far.

Doyle kicked him under the chin first, then kicked the gun away. His gun was out and trained on Barras. He picked up a piece of rope that was lying across the open crate and tied up the man's hands and feet. Doyle wrapped an additional rope around Barras' legs, trunk and chest. He wanted to insure that the man would remain here until he could return for him.

Bodie was in danger and that was his primary concern. He raced back through the streets of London, breaking all speed rates on the return drive to Gastauv's estate.

Bodie woke to find his hands cuffed above his head and anchored to the bed. His ankles were tied loosely to the bedposts, and he didn't have any clothes on.

Gastauv was naked as well. He dribbled oil all over Bodie's chest, then sat on his legs. His fingers played with the oil as he rubbed it in.

Bodie wanted to buck him off, but knew the movement would only arouse him more by creating greater contact with Gastauv's genitals. Bodie remained passive.

Gastauv finished oiling the model's upper torso and moved lower. He was shaking with excitement; he had wanted the blue-eyed model since that first day. The Adonis was fighting him so he manipulated his testicles knowingly and the model couldn't stop his body responding.

"Ray?" Bodie asked in an effort to force his would-be rapist's thoughts onto something he obviously found unpleasant.

"I've taken care of him permanently. He'll bother us no more."

The anguish of those words was like ice being dosed over his body and Bodie's partial erection wilted.

Angered by this obvious response to the artist's fate, Gastauv slapped Bodie across the face. "No matter, I don't need you hard to take you and take you I will. If you resist I'll just use more force and less lube. This is about my pleasure not yours." The Frenchman rubbed his hands over Bodie's chest and groin, "I will make you hard. You know I eventually will, then I will slip on a cockring and wait until you beg me for release. Even then I will make you wait as you have made me wait. I will keep you `til I tire of you and that could be several years, mon tapette jouet."

Gastauv oiled his hard prick and positioned himself to ram Bodie just as the house alarm sounded followed by gunshots.

"Maudit! Zut!," Gastauv ran to the door and yelled for his man, "Christilio, what the hell is happening?"

The Frenchman heard screams from his guests and turned to get his robe. He was unprepared for the door to be kicked in and to be on the receiving end of a flying tackle. He didn't even see his attacker before he was cold-cocked and hit the floor.

Doyle left the rubbish on the floor and rushed to Bodie's side. "Are you okay?" He untied the ropes around Bodie's ankles. He focused his anger into pulling the anchor from the wall and felt a great inner satisfaction at its release. "We'll have to get a key from downstairs."

"No, it should be in the pocket of his robe." Bodie's voice gave nothing away.

Doyle found the keys and concentrated on the task of freeing his partner. With head still down he asked quietly, "Did he hurt you?"

"Your timing was impeccable, sunshine. One minute later, though, would have been something else altogether." Bodie swallow and added, "Thanks."

Doyle just nodded, not trusting that Bodie would speak the truth. He'd watch to make sure. "Let's go to our room, get you dressed and then deal with our rubbish."

"Where's the rest of the lads?"

"Probably at the real warehouse. I was set-up by ol Phillip. Barras was there to kill me, ... over you."

"Yeah, said as much." His voice lightened to dispel the fear he saw on his partner's face, "Hard to be the object of obsession."

Ray sucked in his breath, Bodie didn't know the half of it, he thought to himself, knowing he was bordering there himself.

"Who got shot?" Bodie asked as he tried wiping the oil off his chest before donning a clean shirt.

"Christilio. One of Belform's men stationed outside came in after the shots and has him now." Doyle went to the phone as Bodie closed his trousers. "4.5. Patch me through to Alpha One."

"Where are you, 4.5?" Cowley's voice demanded, ignoring any preliminaries.

"Gastauv's. He tried to have me killed. We have him and Christilio in custody."

"We need you both down here at warehouse three. All we have located is amateur art."

"Hold everyone and everything. We know what to look for."

"What's keeping you?"

Doyle was left with a dial tone. "Let's go."

Downstairs, Doyle directed the MI5 agent to take their captives to the CI5 interrogation rooms before they raced to the warehouse district. They drove straight inside warehouse three right after stopping for a bucket of water.

"Get to it," Cowley said by way of greeting.

Bodie took the bucket to the closest unwrapped painting and threw the water onto it. Amid the yells and blasphemies silence struck as the watercolours dissolved and another painting came into view.

Breteuil's astounded voice broke through the silence. "That's the missing Renoir." He turned to the CI5 agent, "But how?"

"In the workshop we saw Gastauv give used canvasses to a couple of the artists. We put the rest together." Bodie shrugged.

Three of the up-until-now silent captives swore in French and Italian.

"We need to make a trip to warehouse seven as well. I believe the question as to the gun shipments will be answered there." Doyle directed the request to his boss.

Bodie and Doyle left, leaving the others to follow. They found Barras still trussed up on the floor where Doyle had left him. They ignored him as they passed by. They were far more interested in the empty crate.

Doyle inspected it and waited triumphantly for the entourage of department heads to join them.

When assembled, Doyle pointed to the inner chamber of the crate. "The inside portion of the crate is lead lined. X-ray only picks up the objects surrounding it. When one looks inside it appears normal. I only twigged onto it because he," pointing to the trussed up man, "Planned to cram my dead body in there."

Cowley left the crate and Barras to the Frenchman. "Debriefing, my office, thirteen hundred."

"But that's just a half hour from now," Bodie protested, thinking of his stomach.

"Aye, just enough time to get there." Cowley got into the backseat of his car and it took off.

Bodie and Doyle ran to their motor and followed suit.

Debriefing over, Bodie and Doyle made their way down to the carpark with three days of leave.

Bodie searched the rows for his motor before he remembered it was back at his flat. "I need a ride, mate."

Doyle nodded as he took out his keys. He moved out into traffic before he asked casually, "Want to stop for a pint?"

"Nah, want to get out of these clothes and grab a shower." He could still feel the oil Gastauv had rubbed on him.

Doyle's fingers tightened on the steering wheel as he remembered how he had found his partner that morning. He discovered that he was reluctant to leave Bodie just yet.

He slipped into a parking slot in front of Bodie's flat and cut the engine.

Bodie absently noted the cessation of motion and was forced out of his reverie. He got out, "Ta. Night, Ray." He shut the door and trudged up the stairs to his flat. As he fished out his keys he noticed Doyle at his back. "Oi, thought I left you in the motor."

Bodie waited for Doyle to pass him before setting the locks. He took off his jacket and headed to the kitchen instead of the loo. From the fridge he held up a lager to Doyle, "Want one?" At his partner's nod he opened the bottle before handing it to him.

Doyle took it and got a good butchers at Bodie's wrists. He took a long swig of his drink before heading to the loo. He took some slave out of Bodie's medical kit and walked back to the front room.

"Here, put this on your wrists." He found that he wanted to apply it himself, but he could tell that Bodie didn't want him to mother hen.

Bodie took the tube and applied the gel under his partner's watchful eye. "Thanks, this does feel better. But I'll just have to put it on again after my shower."

Doyle didn't say anything, just stared at his partner, his mate and was confronted with the truth. He didn't want to leave, ever. He had quite liked this undercover obbo, it hadn't felt like work at all. He had liked where it had put him, in Bodie's bed. The only spoilage had been Gastauv.

With that name, all that he had been denying burst forth. He looked at Bodie with naked emotion on his face, "He had his hands on you. I need to wipe that away."

"You do?"

"Yeah. Found I don't like the thought of his hands on you."


"Fact is, I'm finding I don't like the thought of anyone's hands on you ... `cept me."

"I can live with that."

"Bodiemate, I'm finding I'm a mite possessive."

"A mite?"

"Okay, a lot. I'm damn bloody possessive."

Bodie smiled, "I can live with that, too, s'long as it goes both ways."

"Both ways," Doyle liked the sound of that. "I can live with that." He returned his mate's smile.

"Never dreamed it could be more than the job for you. Didn't know how to ask to make it so." Bodie put his bottle down and moved over to Ray. He leaned out and cupped Ray's face gently. The kiss was even better this time `cause Bodie knew it was real and to be repeated.

Doyle melted against him, glad to have his internal issues resolved.

Bodie rested his free hand against Ray's, "Why don't we shower and you can wash away the touch of all but yourself."


Ray lathered Bodie and washed him head to toe, then started anew. This time, he caressed and when he encountered the straining erection he let the water rinse it before taking it in his mouth.

Bodie had only the walls for support as he was skilfully sucked to climax. He was hardly aware of being breached until he felt filled and his arse was resting on Ray's balls.

Ray possessed his mate, stalking a new claim, knowing this had to be his exclusively. "Exclusive." He cried aloud as he thrust in hard.

"Yes," Bodie answered as he tightened his anal muscles. "Both ways."

Ray was pushed over into oblivion with Bodie's name in his roar of release.

The action and the cry of his name sent Bodie over for the second time.

The cooling of the water forced them into movement. They rinsed off quickly and hopped out of the shower.

Bodie hung his towel up and looked at Ray through the mirror. Meeting and holding his partner's gaze he said, "Sounded quite a bit like an exchange of vows."

"I think that's just what it was, mate. Happy wedding day." Doyle met Bodie's eyes.

"Now we get to do my favourite part," Bodie smiled the bright wide smile, "The honeymoon."

"This is more than an undercover assignment," Ross indicated the seven videotapes on her desk.

"Ock, stop the verbal fencing, what are you saying?" Cowley was in no mood for the Doctor's word games.

"In most of the videos they don't even note the existence of the cameras. It's obvious by their `actions` that they were just eager to get behind closed doors."

"3.7 is not a homosexual." Cowley would know if Bodie had had any male liaisons.

"George, Bodie was in Africa, all male ranks, for many years. Years he won't talk about."

"You're only guessing. All aspects of his life have been under scrutiny since his employ and many from before." Cowley sat back in his seat, feeling on firmer ground.

"Doyle has had instances."

"But not since joining CI5," Cowley stated with a knowing assurance. "Nor while with the Met."

"George, you can dance around this all you like, won't change what's happened."

"You believe the sex will continue now that case has ended."

"This isn't about sex, George, this is a relationship. One with more depth than we might imagine."

"But Bodie is not a homosexual," Cowley repeated the facts as he knew them.

Ross shook her head, "He's very open-minded when it comes to his partner. Quite frankly, Bodie would be willing to do anything Ray wanted."


"Yes, and that includes a homosexual relationship."

"And I suppose it's too late to separate them?"

"Years too late."

Bodie followed his partner into headquarters. He truly enjoyed the view from second position.

They nodded greetings as they bee-lined to the coffee. Doyle handed back a cup to Bodie, prepared they way he took it. Bodie ruffled his curls and Ray was pleased that nothing and everything had changed.

He didn't get much time to reflect before Anson interrupted.

"The Cow wants to see you ten minutes ago." Anson lifted his newly pour coffee as the two agents hurried out of the restroom.

Betty didn't even allow for the customary greeting by-play, she just waved the pair into the Controller's office.

Cowley motioned them to seats and began before they finished sitting.

"It has been brought to my attention that your recompense reports are the highest in the department. The Minister has demanded a change, but as unorthodox as your ways may be, they do bring results.

"But, sir, I don't even put down everything," Doyle's ire was not loss on his boss.

I'm not arguing the point, 4.5." Cowley silenced his agent with a quelling look.

"What are you saying, sir?" Bodie looked for clarification before his partner could boil over.

"Cuts will have to be made, but I will choose where. In your case, it will be housing."

Doyle started to object, but another look from Cowley stopped it before it birthed.

"You two will now share a flat. A modest two bedroom will more than make up the difference." He paused to look at his agents, "What? No sputtering?"

Bodie hid the happy feeling bubbling up and answered blandly. "No, sir, I can see that you are trying to be fair." He stole at look at Doyle and could see his tension drain. He returned his attention to Cowley, "We'll make it work, sir." As and afterthought he added, "It will also save on petrol."

"Aye, I'm sure." He eyed his two agents silently. He presented the agreement for their signature and passed over the keys. "And I expect no tales of wild shenanigans will breach our doorstep."

"No, sir." Ray's head bobbed several times.

"I understand, sir." Bodie nodded just once.

"The mover will be at your flats in an hour." His tone dismissed them.

They left quickly and for the pair, quietly. Once then reached the end of the corridor, out of earshot, they were no longer quiet.

"The Old Man knows." Bodie was sure of the fact.

"You sure?"

"He knows and that was his tacit approval." Bodie grabbed Ray by the shoulders as a grin spread wide across his face.

Doyle looked wide-eyed at his partner, "Well, I'll be buggered."

"Yes, mate," Bodie's smile brightened with anticipation, "You will."

-- THE END --

July 2004

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