Spider's Web


Thanks to my beta, Jan

George Cowley, Controller of CI5, finally went home after a long day after an even longer week. He was weary but not actually tired. His mind was still too active from the hectic pace of the last few days to allow him to think about sleep. At least he and his lads had been successful, smashing another drug smuggling ring.

Still, Cowley knew that the pace was wearing on him. What was it that Dr. Forbes had called him…a coiled spider ready to spring. That was him, no doubt.

And Cowley knew no other way. Full speed ahead all of the time. He absolutely thrived under pressure and the job was what he lived for. Duty and his boys and girls. What else was there, really? CI5 would be his legacy for the future and he wasn’t quite ready to leave it yet.

However, on occasion there were times when Cowley wished that he could forget everything: CI5, all of the violence he’d seen and committed as part of his duty, the secrets he kept, the damn political games he had to play to protect CI5, and allow himself the luxury of trust in someone who could take charge for once.

Above all else, Cowley was a pragmatist and knew none of that was to be. He put fruitless musing out of his mind as he parked his car. He fished his keys from his pocket as he reached his front door.

Even before he put the key in the lock, Cowley felt a presence near him. He glanced around but didn’t see anything. He turned the key with one hand and reached into his coat pocket for his gun with the other.

As the lock clicked open, someone tackled him from behind. They fell together through the door and he landed on his stomach, winded and temporarily startled. A knee pressed hard between his shoulder blades and, before he could react, his hands were cuffed behind him.

Cowley struggled but the knee pressed harder on his back. He lifted his head to try and look over his shoulder. However, a hastily applied blindfold blocked out the minimal light. He opened his mouth for an appropriate scathing remark before the uninvited visitor gagged him as well.

The pressure on his chest eased as the knee was removed. An iron grip on his arm pulled him to his feet. The warm, hard grip seemed to meld to his bicep and he heard the front door shut and lock. Another hand found its way inside his pocket to remove his weapon.

He didn’t have much choice but to move where his guide directed. He knew his own home well enough to know when they got to the stairs. They started climbing and the only things he could hear were their footsteps, his own heart pounding in his ears, and the somewhat labored breathing of his companion. The scents of cologne and musk were acute in his nose.

There was no hesitation or stop at the top of the stairs. Left turn and down the hall. Then Cowley’s bedroom on the right.

Another door opened and closed but the possessive grip never left his arm. He stood stock still, listening intently. His arm was released and quiet, sure steps circled him. He felt a pair of eyes rake up and down his body.

The steps ceased in front of him and Cowley felt the heat so close to him. He defiantly stuck his chin out. There was a low chuckle and the hard column of heat inched even closer.

Calloused fingers traced his jaw and along his neck. He bit the gag against the awakening pleasure brought about by the electric touch. Despite himself, he leaned into the caress.

Lazy hands took their time removing his tie. Cowley’s throat was dry and he couldn’t ignore the building heat between them, threatening to consume him. There was nothing to distract him from the scent and sounds of the person before him or the reactions of his own traitorous body.

The tie was gone. The fingers set to work on opening the buttons of his shirt, deliberately brushing against the skin beneath with each one. He bit the gag harder to keep from making a sound.

Cold air hit his chest. Warm hands roamed over his bare skin. It felt too good and he tried to step away before he could lose himself in what was happening.

Cowley only managed a half step before two strong arms wrapped around his waist. Talented lips started lavishing attention on the side of his neck and the first muffled moan escaped. He tilted his head back to bare more of his throat.

He didn’t have the presence of mind to try anything when the cuffs were removed. The arms were still around him and the mouth was well on its way to driving him past caring about anything else. His coat and shirt were pushed over his shoulders and off.

Suddenly, he found himself on his back on the bed. The intruder straddled him and swiftly cuffed him to the headboard. He cursed under his breath in Gàidhlig as the hungry mouth and hands went back to their business of driving him insane.

Cowley arched up to his torturer, seeking more contact. Caresses, kisses, licks, and small nips moved south, with particular attention paid to his nipples. The moans now came of their own accord and he pulled against the cuffs.

Finally, the hands found his belt and flies. He lifted his hips and the rest of his clothes were gone in short order. His breathing was harsh through the gag.

The mattress shifted and he felt the other leave the bed. He’d have to get back at him for making him wait. Soft sounds of clothes hitting the floor. A few moments later, an equally bare and heated body was next to his.

The gag was removed at the same moment that a hand stroked his cock. He gasped and his accent grew thicker, demanding more but not pleading. Another husky laugh reached his ears and its owner’s arousal rubbed against his hip.

Cowley jumped and almost came when a palm covered in slick oil stroked him. It took all he had left not to explode. He needed to hold out just a little while longer.

The familiar weight straddled him again. A second later, his arousal was encased in a tight heat. That unbelievable heat stripped the last of his defenses and he didn’t give a damn who heard his cries.

A second set of loud moans matched his. The bed shook with the force of their merging. He had no idea how long it took before hot liquid splattered his belly and he found his own shattering release.

The force was such that it took him some minutes to regain even some of his wits. There was a welcome weight on his chest. Panting filled his ears and the scent of sex was heavy in the air.

Stirring. Some awareness. A light kiss on his lips as his hands were released and the blindfold removed.

Cowley couldn’t feel the red marks on his wrists and he didn’t want to think about how he’d explain them. He rubbed one hand down his guest’s back and the other through dark curls. “Good Lord, Doyle,” he whispered against Doyle’s lips.

Doyle pulled back just enough for Cowley to see the pleased grin on his face. “I’ll take that as a compliment, Sir.”

-- THE END --

November 2005

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