by O Yardley
Party Spirit series #5: After "Private Madness Public Danger"
I knew I was in trouble the minute those groping fingers found me, sliding between my thighs as of right, assured of welcome. I yelled:
"Bodie, don't do that!" threshed vigorously, swallowing another half pint of mucky reservoir, and promptly sank, only to find myself hauled up by that knowing hand clutching at me vitals, racing my blood all over again.
Bloody Bodie! One of these days I'll kill him. Shan't let anyone else do it anyway.
He knew just the effect he'd had too, mad idiot that he is, sitting there with that seraphic look on his face, knowing I couldn't utter a dicky bird with that twit Nesbit all ears in the boat with us.
One of these days, I promised myself again, settling down in a chilled huddle and telling my body to pack it in. I'd have been OK too, if he hadn't put his hands all over me again as he climbed a shore. One more touch, that's all it took. That and the memory of how it was last time...
Grabbed for my jacket and draped it in front of me, willing the Cow's eyes anywhere but on my obdurate crotch, but I was too ruddy cold to waste it using it as a screen for my modesty and slung it quickly over my shoulders, rubbing my hands together instead in optimistic substitute. Luckily the Old Man was too busy keeping an eye on Bodie knocking back the contents of his flask to be paying much attention to me, and in any case, the cold was doing a grand job of cutting me down to size. Besides which, even the best-cut denims occasionally crease in an embarrassing manner so a quick glance'd make you think something was up inside 'em so anyone who caught a glimpse'd be sure to think that's all it was.
Who am I kidding?
Takes longer telling about it -- cold and panic fixed the problem almost immediately, but Bodie's mouth was twitching away all the time I was struggling to get my trainers back onto my wee feet and as we made our way to the car he was carefully avoiding looking my way. Cowley would have been proud of me if he'd known about the iron self-control I was exercising, not only in not taking his favorite agent apart with my bare hands but also in not revealing one jot of my intense desire to do so. Nonchalant, that's the word to describe me, or possibly insouciant -- though between you and me I've never been quite sure what that means or how you pronounce it.
Even after our heroic preservation of the capital's water supply all our boss could do was keep carping on about disobeying his orders and complaining at the way we kept dripping all over him. Thought of offering to strip off before we got in his car but restrained myself in case he took me up on it; the way I was feeling I'd only need Bodie to look at me and I'd jump him regardless of who was watching.
But even Cowley occasionally oozes a little milk of human kindness and he offered to let us go home to change instead of dripping all over HQ's hallowed corridors.
Before Bodie could say anything I chipped in: "Drop us both off at Bodie's place, sir. It's on the way to HQ."
I'd teach him not to get me going like that again; we could flamin' well finish what he'd started so I could concentrate in CI5 business when I needed to. After our last two sexual encounters there was little point in either of us trying to pretend we wouldn't dream of behavin' that way.
"Yeah," Bodie agreed, smooth as melting butter, "that'll save time and we can be back at HQ in plenty of time for interrogating the suspect."
Saw Nesbit give him a speculative look and grinned to myself; he clearly thought that affable voice meant Bodie was disposed to be friendly. Could have given him a bit of good advice if I'd felt so inclined -- never trust Bodie at any time and least of all when he sounds pally.
Shouldn've remembered that on my own account, of course, but I was stupid enough to think he was doing the decent thing, letting me bath first.
I used plenty of hot water, consciencelessly uncaring as to whether I left any for him, and stayed in there until I was warm again. I was a bit narked to find Bodie still hadn't even stripped off his wet garments nor made the tea I'd been promised.
"Kettle's just coming to the boil now," he said, standing in his bedroom doorway and fending off my attempts to get past him and grab a few of his clothes. "Go on, go and make the tea. You're all nice and warm; don't need to get dressed right away."
Perhaps I had overdone the hot water at that, the skin on my legs was still bright pink. In any case, I had plans for that shivering body which didn't include clothes but could wait until it was as clean and dry as my own.
I made the tea, warming the pot like a well brought up lad, and went to pour the warming water away. The sink was full of ice cubes. I stared at them puzzled, wondering what on earth Bodie had been up to. This was scarcely the time to be defrosting the fridge, for heaven's sake.
Finding no answer to the mystery I shrugged. Bodie did a lot of odd things and life was far too short to be sitting around trying to make sense of them. I got on with making the tea.
I was standing by the sink stirring his for him when he jumped me.
Christ but he was cold; clammy too against my talc-dry warmth. But his hand when it closed on me was icy -- same as the one he clapped over my mouth muffling my yell.
Thought for a moment I was going to get raped the fierce way he was jabbing at my arse, and I prepared to sell my honor dearly if necessary, but he shifted, adjusting himself until he was nearly encased between my cheeks. That bit of him wasn't cold! So many sensations, all at once, and all of them pleasurable, even the icy-cold hands once I'd got used to it.
Well, I told myself reasonably, you wanted him to finish what he'd started. No point in arguing the toss over the method, was there. Besides, one of these days I'd get my revenge and it would be very sweet.
I reached behind holding his flanks, steadying myself against his solidity as I pushed into his cupping palm, wriggling to trap him even tighter between my buttocks. One of these days... The hazy thought was arousing even though I knew I'd no intention of ever letting things go that far, and I was suddenly flying, finding a jerky rhythm with his thrusting....
Odd, I didn't even remember getting hard...
Movement changed now, getting slow, dreamy, making it last, making it sweet and exciting. The fingers of his free hand flickered over my nipples; lower lip clamped in my teeth I pushed into his palm, his hand engulfing me, large and capable and holding me perfectly, drawing me to climax. When I finally spasmed I was lost in a world far away, flying out and beyond time; as the ringing in my ears began to fade and I knew where I was again I could feel his hardness jabbing me, short, urgent little strokes, and then he was still groaning into my lug'ole. I lurched forward, knees buckling, taking him with me.
Good thing the sink was there or we'd both have gone down. I held onto its rim as tightly as he was holding onto me.
Recovering first, I reached over and picked out the remains of an ice cube. He has a very satisfying line in shrieks.
And then the aggravating bugger took the wind right out of my sails, sexy devil that he is. Left me standing there, leaning against his sink with my heart racing lickety-split and my chin resting on my chest.
You'd never guess...
He took his hand off my prick and he sidled round where he could see my face and he stared at me, and I couldn't tell what he was thinking but his eyes seemed dark and kind of brooding, and we went and licked his hand clean -- just like a kid licking a lolly. Sexiest bloody thing I've ever seen, that was.
Then he was gone, strolling off to the bathroom whistling away to himself in an offhand way as if we'd just been discussing the weather or doing the washing up together.
I took a deep breath, collected myself firmly and grabbed for some of his kitchen roll to mop myself up a bit before I drank my tea. I dressed before I took his in; probably stone cold judging by the temperature mine had been. Serve him right. He grinned at me. Had a feeling he'd wink if I gave him any encouragement. So I didn't.
"Better hurry up," I told him coldly. "Cowley's waiting for us, remember."
And I walked out to wait for him in his car.
Too ruddy cocksure by half Bodie can be sometimes. Gets up my nose no end. Jumping me that way... And after all his wheeling and dealing last time, ringing Kate up 'n tellin' her I was busy that evening. Did he think I wouldn't find out as soon as I talked to her? And then taking so bloody long to make up his mind to come to the point that in the end I took the initiative into my own hands, only to have it taken away again with a ruthlessness that was scary as it was arousing.
It was time the worm turned, time Master Bodie got his comeuppance.
I made a few plans.
-- THE END --