Not Just At Christmas?


"Oh I do like to be beside the seaside."

Bodie is, as always, slightly off-key, but Doyle doesn't comment. Not this time, at least, because it's marginally better than being offered yet another rendering of "Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer".

He carries on sitting there, watching the waves breaking instead of looking over at the familiar figure poking into a rock pool with a bit of driftwood. Some Christmas this has turned out to be.

The wind has the chill of threatening snow and Doyle shivers slightly, pulling his jacket around him. Bodie notices, and Doyle half expects some comments about scarves or chills as Bodie's opening gambit. He's obviously trying to find one of those.

Right on cue, Bodie abandons his sudden fascination with marine life and finally breaks the silence.

"You had enough?"

"Always liked watching the sea," Doyle answers evenly but without really answering at all. Besides, even the question is open to interpretation. Enough of what? Bloody Bodie.

"Ah," Bodie says neutrally. "Bit bloody cold for it, if you ask me. Getting me decent shoes all messed up as well."

"I didn't ask you to come out here, did I? Told you I wanted a bit of time to meself and I'd be at the car in half an hour. I'm not exactly going to die of exposure."

"Suppose not. Don't think I've got the hang of you and this 'I want to be alone' stuff." Bodie adopts a highly dubious Greta Garbo accent to take the edge of the comment.

"No," Doyle agrees, finally looking at him. "You haven't."

"Sorry." Bodie abandons Hollywood and tries contrite.

"I just need to sort stuff out in my own mind sometimes." Doyle hammers the point home.

"Me," Bodie says almost absently, "When I want to do that, I at least do it inside, in the warm. Besides, I'm not into chewing things over. Done's done."

"I noticed."

"So what's going on in that mind of yours?" Bodie finally comes out with it.

"What do you think?"

Bodie grimaces slightly, takes a deep breath, and says it.

"Look, Ray. We had sex. I fucked you."

"Yeah. I did notice, strangely enough." Doyle manages to keep the sarcasm light but it's there all the same.

"Good," Bodie grins slightly. "And?"

"And I was wondering if we'd do it again. Or whether it was just because it was Christmas eve and we're stuck down here."

"Do you want to?" Bodie asks, carefully. "That what you've been chewing over?"

"Yes. And yes," Doyle says honestly. "Do you?"

"Hell yes." Bodie's grin turns into a full-blown smirk. "Pity we've checked out from our little love-nest then, innit?"

"One-track mind." Doyle rolls his eyes.

"Possibly. But you've been thinking about sex as well and not just wave patterns or sand erosion. You said so yourself."

"Not the sex as such," Doyle says. "Well, not just. Was thinking about what it means."

"It means we get turned on by each other," Bodie says, but not as flippantly as Doyle has always imagined he would--although he did expect that sort of answer. Maybe Bodie's been doing some mental preparation for how this conversation would go, much as he'd probably deny it if Doyle asked.

"You don't say."

"And did you...?" Bodie hesitates, actually looking embarrassed.

"Did I what?"

"Well...was it...."

"Was it what?"

"Christ, listen to me," Bodie sighs. "Like some bloody cheap romance where the bloke says 'was it good for you, darling."

Doyle chuckles despite himself.

"Wasn't bad. Sorry--wasn't bad darling. Am I supposed to ask if the earth moved for you as well?"

"If you like." Bodie says, clearly aiming for airy.

"So? Did the earth move?" Doyle sounds testy: he realises it, but he can't help it.

"It was good. You know it was. Bit clumsy, maybe. We're not used With each other."

"True," Doyle admits. "Suppose there was a bit of surprise involved as well. Although I always thought that once we'd established we weren't both blushing virgins on that score it was only a question of time before we...."

"Question of time?" Bodie snorts. "It was about twenty seconds."

"So why did you? Come out and suggest we fuck last night?"

"'Cos it was Christmas eve, and I fancied you," Bodie says, in his best camp voice. "That what you wanted to hear?"

"Since when? The 'fancied me' stuff?" Doyle wants to know that, but he's registered the other reason as well. He shoves it out of his mind for now, but he's disappointed. He's probably just a substitute for...whatever Bodie would normally be doing--or rather whoever--at Christmas.

"Since a while," Bodie admits. "But with you lyin' there and getting' a hard-on like that last night, thought I'd better say something."

"And if I'd told you to get lost?"

"Credit me with a bit of common sense. If you'd said you just wanted a bird, I'd have pretended I was more drunk than I was or only kidding or something. Still wondered if you'd thump me though, when I asked if I could help you out before you bust yer zip."

"Must say you didn't exactly go tiptoeing around the subject," Doyle says.

"True. But you weren't exactly hidin' yer light under a bushel, as it happened. You were hot for it. To put it mildly."

"Also true," Doyle concedes. "And so were you."

"Certainly was," Bodie nods cheerfully. "Always been somebody who liked to mark occasions, me. And as Cowley's had us buggering around on England's glorious coastline on a night when any normal person should be shagging...."

"But at least we were in a nice warm guest house, even if they did only have one room left..." Doyle says, trying to sound less miserable than he feels. At least Bodie's being honest and actually owning up to his reasons.

"Handy, that was," Bodie smirks. "Bet Cowley would never have imagined us indulging in that sort of teamwork. But the reason for my presence here is that he just called. Says we can go home: the op's called off. Apparently the shipment's cancelled."

"Now there's a surprise," Doyle says. "Suppose I'm glad that's the news, rather than you coming to suggest we indulge in another quick round of marking-Christmas sex here and now."

"Wouldn't mind. But sand would get in awkward places. And it's too public."

"Exactly," Doyle says, although he rather regrets it, particularly when Bodie adds that he's had to pay the bill at the guest house already. If it's going to be a one-off Christmas thing, Doyle thinks, he wouldn't mind at least an opportunity to fuck Bodie. Fair's fair after all.

"However, there's nobody around for miles. It's off season. And even me granny could pick the lock on that." Bodie points to the door of the cafe just up the beach. "C'mon."

Doyle's heart starts to beat faster.

"You're nuts."

"I'm randy. And so are you."

Bodie picks the padlock on the door of the cafe within seconds even though he's in such a hurry his fingers tremble slightly.

Doyle feels himself shaking slightly too. Suddenly, he's starting to feel like an over-intense teenager with performance anxiety.

"So," Doyle says.

"So," Bodie says. "All the comforts of home."

Doyle nods absently.

"Went shopping while you were having your space," Bodie says suddenly, voice husky. He pulls a tiny tube about of his pocket. "Was hoping we'd need it. Always been a K-Y man rather than a Vaseline-in-the-gun-kit man meself."

Doyle's mouth opens to say something, but it turns into a groan as Bodie leans forward, nuzzling his throat, grasping under Doyle's shirt and homing in on a nipple. He uses the other hand to pull the buttons open with not-quite-steady fingers and then to free Doyle's cock.

"Oh God," Doyle manages, snaking his own hand around to Bodie's fly as fire creeps down his stomach.

Doyle reaches out and pulls him close, and leans into him, stabbing his tongue into Bodie's mouth. Kissing hadn't been on the menu last night, but now...well...Bodie isn't complaining and Doyle's enjoying it to put it mildly.

Bodie's fingers are working urgently at pulling both their jeans and underpants down. Doyle helps out a little and then shivers. Then they pull apart and stand there, naked from the waist down, panting, cocks touching, and Bodie's grinning at him, handing him the tube.

"Too cold to take the rest off, eh?"

"Yeah," Doyle agrees, trying to get the lid open. Then he sees some old cushions over in a corner of the dimly-lit cafe, and points.

"On there, Bodie. Now."

Bodie doesn't even make wisecracks but obeys, pulling Doyle down beside him.

Doyle's eyes are used to the gloom now, and he likes what he sees. He likes what he touches even more as he smears a finger and lets it slide around Bodie's cleft. Just slowly.

Bodie still doesn't say a word, but his eyes never leave Doyle's face--not even when one of Doyle's fingers plunders him. He takes the tube and makes good use of it, his fingers caressing, teasing Doyle's cock as he does so.

"Get on with it, Ray," Bodie says when he's finished.

"Don't overdo the romance," Doyle says dryly. "But prepare to be fucked."

Bodie trickles a finger over Doyle's balls. "I'm a bit unpredictable when I'm bottoming. Been a while, see. Just thought I'd tell you."

"Like to be on top, do you? Why doesn't that surprise me? You trying to call it off? Or expecting me to lie down and offer me arse again?"

Doyle thinks, at this point, that if that's the case he's so aroused he'd do just that. Eventually. When he's explored Bodie a bit more.

"No," Bodie says as Doyle pushes another finger inside. "Didn't say that. Just said anything can happen."

"Fair enough," Doyle tells him. "So when you are on the bottom, what turns you on?"

"Suck me, my good man. It'll shut you up if nothing else."

Doyle obeys, pleased to see Bodie's panting, moaning.

There's no way Doyle's going to let him come now, though. Oh no. He's going to come with Doyle inside him, and that's that. He hopes, anyway.

"Face me," Bodie instructs suddenly. "'S a real turn-on, that."

"Feeling masterful, are we?"

"Dead right."

Yes--the height's right. Doyle moves between Bodie's legs, angling his hips carefully, remembering the precious few times he's fucked a bloke like this and how good it was.

"Legs a bit wider and bum further towards the edge, then" he orders, nudging at Bodie's entrance and getting his weight balanced, holding onto Bodie's hips.

"Bossy little prat," Bodie starts, then his eyes widen as Doyle slides inside him slowly, and straight to the hilt.

"Wrong sort of commentary," Doyle chides. "You're supposed to be telling me how bloody brilliant it is. That good?"

"Not...bad at all."

"And this?" Doyle withdraws, and thrusts a little harder this time.

"Yeah. Oh yeah. Cock's getting a bit lonely, though."

Doyle steadies himself one-handed and rubs the tip of it and then grasps him. Bodie's breath starts to come more and more unevenly, and his eyes bore into Doyle's as he bucks back against him.

"Nice," Bodie says faintly. "Harder."

"Just don't fall off the bloody cushions and knock me over in your enthusiasm. That better?"

"Not...bad at all. Could even say it's...hitting"

"Told you so," Doyle says smugly.

"Bit faster would be...good," Bodie gets out between clenched teeth. Doyle has to clench his own because he mustn't come. Not yet. Mustn't leave Bodie high and dry. Must keep on hitting the spot.

But God, Bodie's face, concentrating like that. Bodie's arse, hot and supple.

"Fuck," Bodie gasps suddenly. "Oh fuck yes. Like that. Fuck...can't hold it. Gonna...."

Doyle grins.

Bodie's eyelids are fluttering and he's arching, thrusting up hard and splattering Doyle's stomach. Doyle keeps up the movements, encouraging, watching his lover's face screw up--just like he thought it would.

He wants to come now, but suddenly he's scared he won't come fast enough after Bodie. Bodie'd come only seconds after he did the night before....

Stupid, stupid idiot. He's made Bodie climax. Seen him climax.'s not happening. He's not there. First it was too fast, and now...he's not bloody there.

It has to happen.

Doyle wills his stupid cock-with-a-mind-of-it's-own to obey him. Dammit, he's good at sex. He's a greedy bastard for it. Likes a lot of it, with birds or blokes--he's not too fussy when he's needy.

He's often imagined it was Bodie beneath him, though. Exactly like this. It's been one of his favourite fantasies, including imagining himself flooding into Bodie's arse, with Bodie urging him on.

Bodie's recovering a bit, pushing back against him again.

He's doing Bodie. He's deep in that arse he's wanted so long, for the second time in twelve hours.

"Want to..." he gasps. "Want to fill you, Bodie. Want to...."

"Do it," Bodie says. "C'mon, Doyle. Give me an arse full?"

God yes.

Blessedly he feels his balls tighten. He grips Bodie tight and lets it wash over him, and then slumps forward, leaning against Bodie's chest for a minute.

"Nice," Bodie says nonchalantly. "Come join me on my pile of cushions."

Doyle's too relieved, too knackered, to say anything. He hoists himself up beside Bodie with a little help.

"Look a right pair, don't we," Bodie says cheerfully. "Jewels hangin' out and you with come all over yer chest. Least it missed yer shirt, I think. And for what it's worth, that wasn't bad at all."

"Mmmm," Doyle says.

"So," Bodie props himself up on one elbow. "Might even want to try that again. Me on the business end next time."

"Mmmm." Doyle's not really up to conversation yet.

"Don't mind ringing the changes a bit, y'know."


"Stop saying 'mmmm'. Fancy being done on satin sheets?"

"Whatever," Doyle says, thinking he'd probably enjoy being done by Bodie hanging from a chandelier or rolling in mud.

"Whatever?" Bodie looks hurt.

"Sounds interesting," Doyle says airily, but throws his lover a grin. So maybe it's not just going to be a Christmas thing.

"Sex is interesting," Bodie says thoughtfully. "Been wondering what you'd be like in bed for months, to be honest."

Nearly as long as they've been partners then, Doyle realises. And as long as Doyle had been feeling the same.

"I do have satin sheets," Bodie grins. "A true milestone on the road to simultaneous orgasms, those are."

"They are? And you actually believe in those?

"The orgasms? No, but it'll fun trying. I like satin sheets."

"So you keep saying. Why aren't I surprised you have 'em?" Doyle mutters, pulling his jeans on. "I don't."

"No surprise about that either, but I can live without those like I can live without coming at the same time. That's not what it's about, is it?" Bodie reaches for his own clothes and absently ruffles Doyle's hair as he does it.

Suddenly, despite the casual mentions of other times, Doyle feels fear wash over him.

"Jesus, Bodie, what the hell are we playing at?" he blurts out.

"Sex," Bodie says. "Good, innit?"

Doyle can only nod.

"Penny for 'em?" Bodie asks.

"Censored," Doyle says.

"Can I help it if I'm sex on legs? Mind, you're too bloody sexy for your own good."


"You're supposed to say absolutely. To the sex on legs part. And be flattered by the compliment."

"Absolutely," Doyle says laconically. "And I'm flattered. You prat."

"Prat yourself."

"No, prat because you've got me shirt all sticky after all."

"You wipe yourself with my sweater, sunshine, and I'll...."

Doyle takes Bodie's proffered handkerchief instead and then looks up and meets Bodie's eyes.



"You sure you want to wait for the satin sheets?"


"We don't have to be back for hours. And it's a lot more comfortable here than if we needed a quick and dirty in some layby...."

"Bodie, you are joking."

"Not really, because even if me brain was, my cock isn't and neither's yours. Try and get your zip up now and you'll do yourself an injury."

Doyle doesn't need a visual check, because the warmth in his balls has been growing steadily for a while.

"Look..." he's tempted and surprised at his own libido in almost equal proportions.

"I'm looking," Bodie grins.

"You do know the national average is..." Doyle teases, then breaks off as Bodie trails that damned hand of his up his leg again and into his crotch.

"Doesn't apply. The national average doesn't take into account our peak condition and rampant testosterone levels. You do realise I haven't even given you one of my famous blow jobs yet?"

"You're bloody nuts. You do know that?" Doyle says, wondering what Bodie's lips feel like when they're around his cock.

He doesn't protest when Bodie eases his jeans down again.

"'Course I know I'm nuts," Bodie says. "We're both nuts."

Doyle doesn't comment. He's too busy enjoying the sight of Bodie rolling his eyes as his own fingers find their target.

Bodie scrabbles for the tube again, which disappoints Doyle a little, as the thought of Bodie's mouth on his cock was tantalising him.

But then it turns into reality, and not only is that good, but the finger that slides inside his arse, moving in rhythm with the sucking, robs him of speech--or until he finds himself babbling incoherently.

"Nice," Bodie says, lifting his head but, blessedly, not removing his finger. "But right now, Raymond, my lad, a question. You ever been fucked sitting on somebody's lap?"

"Yeah," Doyle grins.

"Like it?"

"Yeah," Doyle says.


"Really. We talking about it or getting on with it?" Doyle says impatiently, but then sighs happily as another of Bodie's fingers enters him.

"Patience," Bodie says calmly. "Just wondered. Looks like you've been quite an adventurous lad, eh?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Not complaining," Bodie assures him. "Believe me. Just not assuming anything."

"Good. You're not exactly a beginner yourself, I'd say."

"Not exactly, no," Bodie grins. "That all right with you then? You sitting on me?"

"Fine. In fact more than fine. Just...more of that famous blow job first."

"Your wish is my command," Bodie says. "While you work on a little fondling around me nether regions. Then lap it is."

"Lap it is. Although as for having your bloody great carcass on my lap...."

"Cheek," Bodie says, adding a third finger. "Bloody cheek. I'm quite sure we can find alternatives."

Doyle's quite sure they can. At this moment, he's starting to think anything's possible when it comes to him, Bodie, and sex. And Bodie is extraordinarily good with his mouth.

By the time Bodie lifts his head again, however, he's almost frantic to have that thick, hot cock in him again. He coats it generously with lube, enjoying Bodie's tiny moans as he does so.

"Now?" he asks.

Bodie nods, pulling cushions into a chair shape rapidly. Doyle turns his back to him and straddles him.

Doyle loves this position, in fact, even if he's often had to take care of his own cock.

"Move," Bodie whispers, pulling at Doyle's hips. "Do it, Ray."

Doyle takes him in, just a little way, and then rises again.

"Like that?"

"Jesus, you should see it," Bodie says reverently. "Talk about a bloody turn-on. 'S why I fancied it so much--seeing me in you. Feel good?"

Doyle can only nod, imagining the sight of the swollen, oozing cock disappearing into his arse. Looking down, he can see Bodie's balls, and reaches out to cup them. Their hands touch. Bodie moans, swearing softly as his fingers work skilfully on Doyle's erection.

"Faster?" Doyle asks, rising and falling again.

"No," Bodie gasps. "Too close. Just...let me work on you for a minute."

Doyle isn't complaining, and stops moving. Bodie's hand works steadily, his breath hot on Doyle's shoulder. Gradually, Doyle starts to move again, enjoying the friction of his balls on Bodie's and leaning back slightly to feel that delicious contact with his prostate.

"Not too fast," Bodie says. "Not...Christ...stop a minute or...."

"Have to be...bloody...kidding. Gonna come any...."

"Come then," Bodie says urgently, thrusting upwards. "Come, Ray."

Doyle sucks in a breath...and the cushions slide apart, meaning he loses his balance at the same time as Bodie does. He yells. Slides sideways.

"Fuck...oh fuck."

Bodie grabs him and starts to topple as well, struggling to maintain contact. Fails.

"You all right?"

"Fine. Get back in me," Doyle pleads, rolling onto his side. "Quick, Bodie. Quick."

Bodie obeys, clutching at Doyle's hips as he slides down beside him and is thrusting again in seconds. Gets his hand back around Doyle's cock.

Doyle pushes back against him. Wanting--needing--that fullness inside him again.

"Okay?" Bodie whispers.

"More. More, Bodie."

"All you want, Ray," Bodie says. "Like that?"

"Yeah...oh yeah...oh Jesus...."

"Good lad," Bodie murmurs, keeping up the rhythm as Doyle spasms and pours into his hand. "'M nearly there as well."

From somewhere, Doyle finds the energy to urge his lover on. Bodie's cursing with every thrust now, gripping Doyle ever closer, half-sobbing.

He's there. He yells again, several times in succession.

Neither moves. Bodie's still now, but doesn't withdraw. Doyle likes that--likes the way the stretching slowly diminishes but the body is still pressed up to him, the hand still curled around his cock. If this is intimacy--Doyle won't let himself call it anything else--not yet--then it's wonderful, even if they're in a tangle on the floor rather than on satin sheets.

After a bit, Doyle realises Bodie's shaking and twists to turn over.

He's laughing. Doyle starts to laugh as well, and that's equally wonderful.

"Sorry mate," Bodie says. "That was bloody funny."

"Cheek," Doyle says weakly. "Your fault for not damn well sitting still."

"No it bloody wasn't. Damn cushions started sliding."

"Should have waited for a bed then. But yes, it was funny."

"Didn't see you protesting that much about the lack of a bed," Bodie retorts. "Christ, I'm shagged out now."

"So romantic," Doyle says.

"Nicely shagged out," Bodie corrects himself. "And me balls are freezin'"

"Poetic, even."

"I'll save poetic for later. Toss for who drives?"

"I drove here," Doyle says, mentally noting the 'later'. "We take turns with that as well, remember. When it suits you...and when you don't want to show off your fancy techniques at the wheel."

"Fair enough." Bodie doesn't argue for once. "But admit it: it was really funny."

"Yeah." Doyle grins, reaching for his jeans a second time and then groaning. "Oh shit."


"Came on me jeans. That's not funny."

"Ooops," Bodie says cheerfully. "That's not very poetic either. Well, you've got another pair in your bag, right?"

"True. Go and get 'em for me?"

"No way. You can change in the car."

"And risk you mauling me all over again? Run back to the car with a wet patch and catch me death?"

"Nope," Bodie shook his head. "No mauling. Definitely reached me limit for now. Although I have been known to come up with the goods three times in one day."

"Obsessed, like I said earlier," Doyle tells him, and then finds inspiration for a good way of testing the ground a little. "Mind, if you insist on being lazy and unhelpful, I might need more space. As in not wanting to share those satin sheets any time soon."

"That, my lad, would be cutting off your nose to spite your face. But tell you what. I'll fetch 'em if you'll drive. And we'll discuss sharing sheets on the way back, because I rather suspect you're just as obsessed as I am."

"Done. For the jeans and the driving. But seriously, Bodie...."

"Seriously what?"

"Is this just a Christmas fling?"

"Do you want it to be?"

"Yes," Doyle says. Bodie stiffens.

"Christmas fling. New Year fling. Easter fling. Post-mission fling. Night-before-day-off fling..." Doyle says airily. "Might have to avoid mid-mission flings. Could put us off our stride a bit."

Bodie's beaming.

"And as it's Christmas, we can continue the Christmas fling tonight, right?"

"Not impossible. Fondle, snog, beer and bad telly."

"Sounds good to me," Bodie agrees. "Getting soft in your old age, you are."

"Think you're right. Now, can I have me spare jeans from the car, or I might be forced to reconsider."

"Running all the way," Bodie says. "Oh, just one thing, though?"

"Now what?"

"While I'm getting 'em, you can start thinking about me fondling your crotch as we drive. Rather like this fondling business."

"In the right place at the right time," Doyle says, because he thinks he should. "And you said no mauling."

"Absolutely. But fondling isn't mauling. Prove it to you if you like."


Bodie throws him what can only be described as a lascivious grin as he goes out.

Doyle watches Bodie walk away, because watching Bodie is definitely more interesting than watching the sea.

He's happy, he tells himself with a grin, even if he's got semen-stained jeans and is not sure he can do much more on Bodie's satin sheets than curl up and go to sleep beside his lover tonight. But again, that's fine. There's always tomorrow morning.

"Oh I do like to be beside the seaside," he hums to himself, congratulating himself on cancelling the second room in the hotel. "I do like to be beside the sea." And then, as an afterthought, he throws in a verse of "Rudolf" and imagines Bodie's satin sheets.

-- THE END --

December 2005

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