He kissed the vulnerably exposed throat, sucked a delicious earlobe, than licked a path downward, lips closing over a nipple, then further down again.

Fingers fumbled with the leather belt, a voice mumbling, "Christ, Bodie." He smiled when he opened the zip, letting his tongue lead the way, his goal clear to them both. All paths lead to--

"LONDON." the announcer called through the train.

Bodie opened his eyes and stretched his legs, a feral smile on his lips. It was time to return home again. Daydreams were just that, time to let reality interfere.

Doyle never saw it coming.

-- THE END --

January 2006