The Professionals Circuit Archive - Cupid	  Cupid

 

by Anonymous 1

  
 *There's no reason for living with a broken heart*
    --Freddie Mercury

"I still don't know how you talked the Cow into this," Raymond Doyle
commented as he drove down the narrow lane toward the country estate of
Sir Arthur Grimswold.

"He doesn't know!" Bodie confessed, laughing.

"He doesn't know?"

Bodie shook his head. "Nope. He thinks they're goin' to Tintagel for a few
days, which they are, after the big bash."

"Does *she* know?" Doyle asked, still incredulous.

Again, Bodie shook his head. "But when the PM herself calls and tells you
to arrange something for them, well...." Bodie shrugged.

"How do you plan to get 'em here?"

Smiling innocently, Bodie replied, "After the ceremony, we'll bundle them
into the car and we'll drive them here. Simple as that."

"He'll shit bricks and *then* he'll bounce us out on our arses. You know
that, don't you?" Doyle said, smiling nonetheless. "I love it."

"He can't touch us. We're under orders, mate. Just doing what we're told."
Bodie chuckled. "But you're right, he'll turn purple when he realizes
we're not headed to Tintagel."

"I still can't believe it -- the Cow and Elizabeth Walsh gettin' married."
Doyle glanced at his partner. "Do they know you played Cupid?"

Once more, Bodie shook his head. "I don't think so."

"You're really amazing,," Doyle said. "I never thought your matchmaking
would lead to this, though."

"Yeah, this is a lot more than I hoped for when I started sending the
flowers."

"How'd you sneak the cost by?" Doyle queried, thinking he might be able to
buy Bodie flowers using the same pretext.

"Petrol."

"What?"

"You heard, " Bodie stated. "I just put down enough extra gallons to pay
for the flowers sent in the Cow's name to Elizabeth. On your tab, I put
the cost of her flowers to him. Gets lost in the new, weekly accounting
system we have to use."

Admiration evident in his tone, Doyle asked, "What other expenses do you
launder that way?"

"Well, there's --"

Doyle held up a hand to cut off his partner. "I don't really wanna know."

"Yeah, it's best that way, mate. Wouldn't want us both to end up in the
Tower."

Chuckling, Doyle asked, "So who's pickin' up the tab for this bash?"

"I wasn't told, but I think the PM and a few other friends. Stop!"
commanded Bodie suddenly.

Accustomed to obeying that tone of voice, Doyle immediately complied.
"What is it?"

"SAS," replied Bodie as a group of Uzi-toting men emerged from the bushes
lining both sides of the lane.

"Oh, great," Doyle mumbled as the nearest man motioned for him to lower
the window. Before the window was down, a tall man approached the car.

Bodie rolled down his window. "'Lo, Jack."

"Stand down, men. It's just Bodie," Jack Johnson announced, leaning into
the car. "Who's this?"

"My partner, Ray Doyle. CI5."

"Doyle." Johnson thrust his hand past Bodie. As he shook hands with Doyle,
Johnson said, "You must be good if Bodie calls you partner."

Before Doyle could respond, Bodie interjected, "He's the best, Jack. So
how's security?"

Without missing a beat, Johnson answered, "Tight. We've been here on
maneuvers for the past week. The house and grounds have been secured.
We've escorted each visitor in and out. Chopper patrols are set to begin
tonight."

"Good. There's been a whisper of IRA movement," Bodie said.

"Johnson nodded once. "When will you have the final travel arrangements
set?"

Bodie removed a sheet of paper from his jacket pocket. "This is it for
everyone except the PM and the royals. Depending on what we find out about
the IRA, we won't have those plans till the last minute. I'll let you
know."

Once more, Johnson nodded curtly. "Headed for the house?"

"Yeah. We want to make sure we like the way the place looks. We also need
to make sure the suites are properly set up."

Flashing Bodie a thumbs up signal, Johnson backed away from the car. His
men immediately disappeared into the shrubbery.

"Let's go," Bodie instructed, rolling up his window.

"The SAS?"

Bodie smiled. "You know my motto -- of it's worth doing, it's worth
overdoing. Besides, with the PM, the royals and the heads of all the
intelligence agencies under one roof --" he shrugged.

Doyle nodded agreement.

When nothing further was said, Bodie glanced at his partner. The tightness
with which Doyle gripped the steering wheel told him Doyle was upset about
something. Bodie was just about to begin an inquisition -- or that's what
it took to get information from Doyle when he wasn't offering it freely --
when they drove into the large, open circular portion of the lane that led
to the estate manor.

"Very nice," Doyle remarked, peering up at the structure after they'd
parked near the caterer's van. "Very nice."

Just then the outdoor lights snapped on. "Had 'em installed last week,"
Bodie explained, looking around to make sure there were no shadowy areas.
"Didn't want any ambushes." When Doyle nodded, Bodie suggested, "Let's go
see if the caterer has anything we can sample."

The comment, so typical of Bodie, relieved some of the tension Doyle felt.
When Cowley had made the wedding announcement and the PM had phoned to see
if they'd organize a surprise reception, Doyle himself had suggested that
he distract the CI5 chief while Bodie made the arrangements. As a result,
they'd seen each other only twice in the ensuing week -- once, for ten
minutes as they gulped down coffee in the squad room and the other when
they met in the janitor's closet for a quick fuck.

Feeling very much left out, Doyle trailed after his partner as they spoke
with the caterer, sampled the food, checked out the various suites for the
dignitaries and inspected the decorations. As they stood in the center of
the elaborate, parquet dance floor in the grand ballroom, Doyle said,
"You've thought of everything." He twirled around, noting the flowers and
candles which only enhanced the charm of the old room. "Once Cowley's done
chewin' our arses off, he'll enjoy this tremendously. Very nice job,
Cupid."

Pleased to have Doyle's approval, something never given lightly, Bodie
looked at his partner. The wistfulness in the green eyes made him realize
what was troubling the man. "I'm glad you like everything. When I started,
it bothered me that I couldn't check with you; but then," Bodie lowered
his voice, "then, I decided I wanted it to be a surprise for you, too,
because it's as close to this sort of thing as we'll ever get. Everything
I picked out, from flowers to food was done to please you."

The softly spoken declaration of love eased the loneliness Doyle had felt.
Aching with the denied need to hold Bodie close, to kiss the man's lips,
Doyle said, "Thank you for telling Johnson I was one of the best. That
meant a lot to me."

"Well, it's the truth," Bodie replied. He reached over to ruffle his
lover's curls.

As he looked into the blue eyes, Doyle added, "And thanks for this. It's
wonderful."

"Wait'll you see the room I picked out for us."

Doyle was about to suggest they do just that when the caterer and her SAS
escort entered the ballroom.

"Everything's ready, Bodie. I'll finish the cake when I get here tomorrow.
If there's nothing else now, I'll be going."

Approaching the pair, Bodie replied, "You've done a great job, Fi. It's
just what I'd want for myself if I were tying the knot." He smiled at the
woman and brushed a bit of icing from her chin.

"Well, maybe I'll be doing this for you one day."

The gentleness of Bodie's gesture and the suggestiveness in the woman's
voice indicated to Doyle that Fiona Shaw had succumbed to his partner's
charm. Stepping closer, Doyle said casually, "I don't think your wife
would approve of you marryin' again. Nor would the five little ones, for
that matter."

"I thought you -- oh!" Quite obviously disgusted, the caterer headed
quickly for the front door.

The SAS man grinned and said, "I'll see her to the gate. Everyone else has
already left, sir."

"Okay," Bodie answered, hoping his partner's territorial display hadn't
annoyed the woman so much that she wouldn't be back tomorrow to finish the
cake. He deliberately waited until the van drove off before he even looked
at Doyle. The predatory gleam in the green eyes sent blood racing to
Bodie's cock. Before he could say anything, Doyle had turned off the
overheads. Moonlight streamed into the room. Quickly, urgently, Bodie was
drawn into the one dark corner of the room. Not surprised when the lithe
body pressed against him and the luscious lips took his mouth, Bodie
willingly melted into the kiss.. When they came up for air, he whispered,
"Now let me show you the room I picked out for us."

Bodie took Doyle's hand and led him through the darkened rooms, up the
stairs and into a bedroom whose floor-to-ceiling windows shared an
exposure with the ballroom below. The moon cast its light deep into the
room and across the bed.

"Can anyone see in?" Doyle asked, peering out the window. The moonlight,
he realized, was filtered through the limbs and leaves of a large tree.

"Not unless they're in the tree."

"What time do we have to be at Cowley's?"

"Not till 4 p.m. -- tomorrow."

"Good," Doyle replied as he again took Bodie into a dark corner. "Very
good," he murmured as he teased his way into his lover's mouth.

"Missed you," Bodie whispered, breathless already with the passion he felt
in himself and sensed in Doyle.

"Show me," demanded Doyle as he pressed Bodie against the wall. "Show me
how much you've missed me."

As his shirt was pulled free, Doyle thoroughly rediscovered his lover's
lips and mouth. He sighed deeply when warm hands ran up his back,
repossessing every inch of flesh. Doyle whimpered with pleasure as Bodie
pinched his nipples hard. He nearly came when a firm hand began working
his cock through the moleskins. Doyle did come as Bodie's mouth closed
over his erection and sucked till he was spent. From somewhere in his
lassitude, Doyle thought he should be unhappy that he'd been so fast, but
that would deny the depth of his need for Bodie.

Images of Bodie -- naked, hard, waiting -- finally brought Doyle back to
reality. He found himself the one pressed against the wall, Bodie's weight
holding him there. "Your turn," Doyle whispered into a nearby ear. He
started to push his lover toward the bed, but when Bodie hesitated, Doyle
stopped.

"Tomorrow night," Bodie suggested, shoving one of Doyle's hands into
unzipped black cords.

Doyle caressed the hard cock for a moment before drawing his hand away.
"Back against the wall, sunshine," he commanded. Once Bodie was
positioned, Doyle unbuttoned the man's white shirt. Hating the tee shirt
that kept him from his lover's skin, but glad it was an old one, Doyle
ripped the garment and pushed both shirts aside as he let his hands roam
over Bodie's torso. Well trained tits responded eagerly as he rubbed them
gently. When he bent to lick them, Bodie tried to push him further down.
Doyle resisted, he knew how much foreplay that ignored his cock roused
Bodie.

After attacking a helpless ear, Doyle let his lips and tongue linger in
the hollow at the base of Bodie's neck. As he kissed his way toward his
lover's lips, he felt Bodie tense. "What is it?"

"Don't move," Bodie replied softly.

Doyle froze as the beam of light raked across the other half of the room.
Aware of how erotic Bodie found danger to be, Doyle fondled his lover's
cock, stifling the man's whimpered moans with a kiss as they slowly sank
to the floor, narrowly escaping the probing light. Once the beam was lost
in the moonlight, Doyle stretched out on top of his lover.

"Think what would happen if we'd been caught, Bodie. I've heard what the
SAS does to its prisoners. They'd hold you against the wall, stripped
naked and spread-eagled. One by one, the men in black would take you,
fucking your pink arse till you begged for more.

"And all the while, I'd be watching, knowing I'd be the last to have you,
knowing that I'd be the one to stick it in you so far that you'd scream
with pleasure. I'd pump it into you until you came all over the wall -- "
Doyle stopped talking as he thrust his tongue in Bodie's ear. When Bodie
started trembling, Doyle whispered, "let go, sunshine. Come for me." He
took Bodie's lips with his own; his hand began working the rock-hard cock.
"And tomorrow night, lover, tomorrow night, I'll rip the tux off you; and
in the moonlight, I'll have your delicious, pink arse." It was enough to
send Bodie over the edge. Moving down, Doyle sucked the rest of the cum
from the fat prick.

Pleased with himself, with his ability to break Bodie's control, Doyle
again stretched out on top of his lover. Before he could say anything,
Bodie kissed him. Murmuring with pleasure, Doyle melted into the kiss,
deepening it, prolonging it until his lover's breath grew labored.

Suddenly, Bodie froze. "They're looking for us. Shit. The car's still out
front and all the lights are out. Get dressed. We have to get out of here
or hide."

"Can we get to the wine cellar?" Doyle asked as he rolled off his lover.

"Brilliant, as always, Doyle. There's a servant's stairwell a few doors
away. Since the team will work its way down, we might just make it." As he
spoke, Bodie had zipped and buttoned himself up. By the time he stood up,
Doyle was ready to go as well.

Once they were safely in the stairwell, Bodie paused. "Life with you is
sure one hell of a ride, Doyle."

Doyle was about to reply with a kiss when they heard the search team enter
a nearby room.

Quickly, the two scrambled down the steep steps. They had just reached the
wine rack when they heard the SAS team creep in. Back to the men, Bodie
swung around just as Jack Johnson was about to proclaim them prisoners.
"Do you think red or white wine should be served with truffles?" Bodie
asked, holding up the nearest bottle.

"I should have known you'd be down here," Johnson declared with a warm
smile. "Are you staying tonight? And I think champagne is best with fresh
truffles."

"You're right, it is; and no, we're just about to leave." Bodie rapidly
replaced the bottle he held lest anyone notice the label. Looking at his
partner, hoping Doyle could swallow the laughter Bodie saw in the green
eyes, Bodie asked, "Ready?"

Not trusting his voice, Doyle nodded.

"Can I get a lift to the front gate, then? I'd like to test the perimeter
patrol," Johnson remarked.

"Sure," Bodie replied, leading the way up the main set of stairs.

It wasn't till they were well on the road back to London that either man
spoke.

"That was damned close," Doyle said as he began to understand just how
narrow their escape had been.

"Yeah, but that's what made it so fucking hot -- that and your dirty mind
-- taken by the SAS while you watched. That was good, Ray." Bodie let his
hand, which had been resting on Doyle's thigh, slide up toward the
well-packed crotch. "Would you like to be taken by a strange man, dressed
in anonymous black?"

Doyle pressed Bodie's hand tighter against his crotch.

"And what if he broke in, was hiding in your bedroom when you came in? Not
knowing, you'd undress, maybe play with yourself for a minute before
climbing into bed. Just when you were nearly asleep, he'd creep out of his
hiding place, cover your mouth with a leather glove."

"Oh," Doyle murmured, shivering. He pressed his thighs tightly together,
trapping Bodie's hand. "What else would he do?"

"That's for him to know and you to find out," Bodie answered, squeezing
the bulge he held. Pleased with the prospect of enacting this fantasy one
day soon, Bodie lightly kissed his lover's cheek. "Mind if I kip out for
the rest of the ride? I'm beat."

"Only if you tell me if the man in black will let me come in his gloved
hand."

"I think that might be arranged," Bodie replied, snickering lewdly.

"And do you think he'll use leather thongs to tie me to the bed when he
has me arse?"

"It's a good possibility."

"Oh," Doyle repeated, shuddering again. "And do you think he'll kiss me
before he leaves?"

"Only if you shut up and let him get some sleep."

"Okay," Doyle responded happily. A few minutes later, he turned to ask if
the man in black would wear a leather jock strap, only to find his lover
already lost in slumber. "Hope you're dreamin' of me sunshine," Doyle
whispered as he settled in for the long drive back to London.

******

He knew that it was obvious, but try as he might, Doyle just couldn't keep
his eyes off his partner. Bodie, dressed in a black velvet tux with a
white ruffled silk shirt and a pink rose was gorgeous. Doyle had noticed
that most of the women and more than a few of the men also found Bodie
quite attractive tonight.

Aside from the fact that Bodie was simply, elegantly beautiful tonight,
Doyle knew that a day spent making love with the man as well as half a
bottle of champagne had conspired to produce his besotted condition. It
was alarming, really, for he could find nothing inside himself of the
tough man he professed to be. He'd even been polite to Macklin and smiled
at Towser. Sighing, Doyle waited for his lover to re-emerge from the
doorway he'd disappeared through moments ago.

Busy re-living the happy memories of the third time he and Bodie had made
love today, Doyle nearly screamed when a quiet voice whispered "boo" in
his ear. Heart pounding, he spun around to confront his grinning lover.
"Moron."

Bodie chuckled. "Have I told you that you look fucking fantastic in that
white dinner jacket?"

"Yeah, about 30 times, but you can keep saying it," Doyle replied. "I
can't take my eyes off you."

"I know, as does the entire gathering."

"That bad, eh?"

"Well, it might be if anyone but Macklin was paying attention to us. What
did you do, smile at him or something?"

Doyle shook his head. "Towser -- I smiled at him. Was polite to Macklin."

Again Bodie laughed. "Fortunately, I don't think the Cows have noticed."

"The Cows?" Doyle groaned. "I'm sure Elizabeth will be thrilled to hear
what her new name is."

"The PM stopped me a bit ago. Said it was a great party."

"Well, it is," Doyle said. "And *they* seem to be enjoying it, now that
he's calmed down." He glanced toward the newly married couple, dancing
cheek to cheek. "Wish we could dance."

The wistfulness in his lover's voice gave Bodie an idea. "Time for a
security check, but I'll see what I can arrange."

Wondering what, exactly, that meant, Doyle watched his partner thread his
way through the packed ballroom.

"He'll be back, you know."

"Who?" Doyle asked as he slowly turned around to face Elizabeth Walsh
Cowley.

"Cupid," the woman replied, smiling at Doyle.

"Bodie?" Knowing it was inane to feign such ignorance, Doyle nonetheless
forged ahead.

"My dear, you're terrible at concealing your thoughts. I hope you don't do
too many undercover assignments."

Giggling, Doyle said, "It's the champagne. The good stuff always goes to
me head."

"So I've noticed. Shall we dance?"

Wise enough to know he couldn't refuse, drunk enough to want to ask if
she'd proposed to George, Doyle bowed slightly and led the way out onto
the parquet floor.

As they danced, Elizabeth pulled Doyle closer. "I don't bite, dear."

"Yeah, but the Cow, eh, Mr. Cowley might."

Elizabeth glanced toward where her husband was talking with the PM.

"Don't tell Bodie that you both knew about this," Doyle requested,
inhaling the perfumed scent of the woman's grey hair.

"Wasn't George convincing enough?"

"Yeah, but Bodie put so much into this that I think it'd hurt him to learn
that you were tipped off."

"Well, he won't hear a word about that from either of us," Elizabeth
promised. "You could, however, tell Cupid that he can stop sending the
flowers every week."

Doyle kept on dancing, but he leaned back slightly so that he could see
her face. "You knew that, too?"

"We both figured it out. But it was such a sweet thing to do. And it did
make us both stop and think. We'll always be grateful for that."

Feeling an unnecessary need to defend his partner, Doyle said, "He just
thought neither of you should be alone. He's turned into a regular
matchmaker ever since -- " Doyle stopped abruptly, realizing what he'd
almost blurted out.

"It's all right, dear. I know. And if I didn't, tonight it would be
obvious to a stranger."

"Shit," Doyle mumbled.

"What?"

"Oh, oh, nothing. I shouldn't have started on the champagne. If it's that
obvious, and even *I* know it is, Cowley'll turn us out tomorrow." Doyle
stopped, suddenly quite serious and sober. "I'd better go."

"Nonsense," Elizabeth responded. "Keep dancing, dear."

Afraid he'd embarrass the woman if he left now, Doyle obeyed. "What's
nonsense?"

"George has always known."

"He has?" Doyle asked, feeling quite cold inside. "We thought he did, but
since he's let us stay on,, we weren't sure."

"If you weren't discreet, if it hadn't made your professional partnership
stronger, and if Bodie weren't involved, you probably would have been
asked to leave."

"Why does he have such a soft spot for Bodie?" Doyle asked. It was still a
hotly debated subject among CI5 agents. In his darker moments, Doyle
feared the older man was in love.

"Who among those privileged enough to know Bodie doesn't have a soft spot
for him?" Elizabeth countered.

The tension Doyle felt lessened as he laughed. Elizabeth Walsh might be
celebrating her wedding day, but already she was protecting her husband's
secrets. "Well," he began, "I can think of quite a few who have no
fondness for Bodie. And speaking of ill-will, isn't that Roger Dalton
approaching the Co -- er -- "

"George will do, dear, and yes, I'd better go save him. But I do want to
thank you and Bodie for everything, especially for the thought that we
shouldn't be alone." Elizabeth stepped back and smiled at Doyle. "And a
parting word to the wise, dear. When Cupid returns, why don't the two of
you leave?"

With that, Elizabeth Walsh Cowley headed toward her husband, obviously
intent on rescuing him from a minister he found particularly noxious.
Doyle sighed. He knew the warning had come from his boss as well.

"May I have the next dance?"

Turning around, Doyle saw his lover. Glancing in the direction of the
guests of honor, he smiled when Bodie nodded, glad he didn't have to
explain the warning they'd received.

"You didn't answer my question. May I have the next dance?"

Doyle nodded.

"Follow me," Bodie said quietly. He led the way up the grand staircase to
the bedroom he and Doyle would share. Once they were inside, he locked the
door and opened the curtains and window. Music and moonlight filled the
room. "It's a long set," he explained, "all the golden, golden oldies.
Champagne?"

"Thought you were busy checking security," Doyle commented as he picked up
a Lalique goblet.

After opening the bottle, Bodie poured them both full glasses before he
replied. "I did, but Jack's a good man. Besides, I had to set *this* up.
It's our party, too, remember?"

"To us," Doyle intoned, lifting his goblet.

"Yeah," Bodie said happily, touching his glass to his lover's.

Doyle, already feeling the effects of earlier champagne, drained his
allotment.

Bodie, who was a great deal more sober and intended to stay that way, took
a sip of his. Taking the glasses before Doyle could request more, he put
them beside the bottle. "Before you're falling down drunk, may I have this
dance?"

"Just a pleasant glow, sunshine. It's me honeymoon, isn't it?" Doyle
asked, childhood accent thick as he slid into Bodie's arms.

"A few more champagnes and you'll miss out on the other honeymoon events,"
Bodie cautioned as they began to dance to the slow songs of an era past.

Dancing in the moonlight with the man he loved was enough to keep Doyle
from pointing out that his lover would hardly be in bed most of the night
since he'd be in and out, checking on security. Intent on savoring the
mood, the moment, and the man, Doyle said nothing as they danced an hour
away. By the time the jazzier sounds of swing drifted up from the
ballroom, his cock was hard and Bodie was gilding him ever closer to the
bed.

"That was subtle," Doyle mumbled as he landed on the bed, in the middle of
the moonlight.

"I want you," Bodie whispered,, lust in his voice. Just as his lips closed
over his lover's, the R/T buzzed. "Fuck!" he cursed, grabbing the
offensive instrument. Sitting up, he switched it on. "Bodie."

"Movement from the south, through the woods. I've requested back-up and
we're moving to isolate."

"Roger. On my way."

By the time Bodie reached the door, Doyle was blocking it. "You're not
going out there in a white shirt, with no gun. And you're definitely not
going out there without me."

Poised to protest, Bodie instead nodded toward the wardrobe.

Quickly, Doyle began undressing. He'd just removed his white jacket and
shirt when a black sweater hit him in the chest. As he finished pulling a
balaclava over his head, Bodie tossed him a holstered Walther.

"Let's rock, sunshine," Bodie ordered as he approached the window.
Stopping in front of it, he kissed his lover. "You look sexy as hell in
SAS black."

As Bodie opened the window, Doyle pulled the man back. "Thanks, but get
your head out of your balls."

Understanding, Bodie took several deep breaths.

"Now we can roll," Doyle said as he pushed his lover toward the tree.

******

The party, with its formal brunch the next day, was long over by the time
both Bodie and Doyle next met in bed. "Remind me to...."

Doyle, who was in the bathroom brushing his teeth, leaned back so that he
could see into the bedroom. Amused that his lover had fallen asleep
mid-sentence, he decided that since there was now no hurry to get into
bed, he might as well have a long soak in the tub. While the water ran, he
gathered together his Walkman, a tape of ocean sounds, his sketch pad and
pencils and a small brandy. Putting them on the ledge above the tub, he
added a bit of rose oil to the warm water. Since the tub wasn't full, he
went back into the bedroom.

Carefully, he touched Bodie's foot. When the man didn't stir, Doyle knew
it was one of those unusual nights when his lover slept deeply enough to
be undisturbed if he were tucked in. After pulling the duvet up around
Bodie's neck, Doyle brushed back the dark hair and kissed the pale, soft
skin of his lover's forehead.. "Sweet dreams, sunshine," he whispered as
he turned off Bodie's bedside lamp.

Though he knew the bath would soon be ready, Doyle lingered at his lover's
side. It was a rare opportunity to study the man. Doyle went back into the
bathroom and shut off the taps. Retrieving his pad and pencils, he
returned to the bedroom. He switched the light back on and stood staring
at Bodie's face for several minutes as he studied the features one by one.
To seal the images in his mind, he ran the fingers of his drawing hand
lightly over his lover's lips, nose and eyes.

Satisfied that he could do justice to the picture he wanted to produce,
Doyle turned off the lamp again and went back into the bathroom. Before
climbing into the tub, however, he spent several minutes examining his own
visage in the mirror. "You've changed, old son," he said to himself.
"You're harder, the worry lines are more noticeable, but I like it." He
smiled at himself as he traced his own features, teaching them to his
fingers.

Once he'd heated up the water, he climbed into the tub. Sinking down, he
moaned softly as the warmth relaxed tired muscles. He put on the
headphones and as he lost himself in the gentle murmuring of an ocean tide
pool, he stretched, further easing the tension coiled in his body. The
brandy restored him to normal.

Feeling much better, he ran more hot water and then picked up his
abandoned pad and pencil. With sure, precise strokes, he sketched Bodie in
the black velvet tux. When he was satisfied that what he'd drawn captured
something of the man's beauty, he added himself to the picture. Just as
he'd put rosebuds on their lapels, the bathroom door, already ajar, was
pushed open.

Bodie, nearly sleepwalking, shuffled in. Squinting, he turned toward
Doyle. "I thought I told you to remind me to pee."

"Must have been in your dream, Cupid," Doyle replied, smiling at his
lover.

"Oh." Bodie sighed deeply.

When Doyle realized that his partner was asleep on his feet, Doyle put his
pad, pencil and Walkman on the ledge. Standing, he climbed out of the tub
and wrapped a long towel around his torso. "This way, sunshine," he said
as he guided Bodie toward the toilet. Determined that no mess be made in
*his* bathroom, Doyle put his hand on Bodie's cock, intent on aiming it.
As the half-hard cock stirred, he glanced at his lover. Alert, blue eyes
were watching him. A hand locked around his wrist, silently suggesting he
continue. "Thought you were too tired," Doyle murmured when Bodie pulled
him closer.

"I've had a nap."

"Then I'm all yours," Doyle said lewdly. "Do you really have to pee?"

Bodie nodded.

Doyle caressed the fat prick and the big balls. "Hurry up, then. I'll be
waiting."

Once he was alone, Bodie quickly moved toward the ledge from which he
retrieved the sketch pad. From experience, he knew that if he didn't see
now what Doyle was working on, it might be months before he was shown a
finished product. The drawing of Doyle staring, smiling at him, fascinated
Bodie. It summed up the emotion of the evening -- love.

Closing his eyes, Bodie could feel that love, its warmth, the joy that
came from a sure knowledge that he was loved. That he was loved by Raymond
Doyle, one of the most fastidious, critical, demanding people Bodie had
ever met, made it all the sweeter.

"Thought you were peeing," Doyle said quietly from the doorway.

Startled, Bodie nearly dropped the pad into the tub. "Shit! Doyle, you
scared the fuck out of me," he exclaimed, turning around.

Doyle was prepared to be angry. He hated having anyone see such
preliminary sketches. But the expression on Bodie's face defused his ire.
He'd seen that look before, knew what it meant: curiosity, well satisfied
with what it found, a pleasure derived from seeing what he'd put on paper.
There was also love in Bodie's eyes, a love the man felt deeply but rarely
revealed.

"I'm sorry. I -- " Bodie shrugged. He braced himself for an acerbic tongue
lashing; he knew the rules about not peeking into the sketch book.

Silently, Doyle walked into the bathroom. He sat down on the edge of the
tub and took the sketch pad from his lover. "Do you like it?" he asked,
looking at the drawing. "I thought about doing you as Cupid -- "

"With a little bow and wings and all?" Bodie interrupted, his voice high
and fey.

"Well, you'd have the bow and arrows and wings, but your nappy would be
SAS black."

Laughing, Bodie pulled his lover into his arms. "I love you, Ray."

"You don't like it, then?" queried Doyle, trepidation in his voice.

"It's bloody wonderful, just like you are," Bodie replied quickly and
honestly, resisting the urge to make a joke. He knew how sensitive Doyle
was about his artwork. "You know I think you're a great artist and the
best partner I've ever had -- at work and in bed."

"Mmmm," Doyle sighed. "Then take me to bed." He kissed Bodie's neck and
began nibbling his way toward the Adam's apple. "There's still a bit of
moonlight in the front room...."

"Stay here," Bodie said, pulling away.

Knowing how much his lover liked to orchestrate moments such as these,
Doyle sat down on the edge of the tub. While he waited, he examined the
sketch and smiled, pleased that it'd touched a chord in his lover. He was
considering how to redraw his curls when Bodie returned.

Bodie took Doyle's face between his hands. "The anonymous-man-in-SAS-black
fantasy will have to wait for another time. But rest assured, sunshine, he
will come for you soon." As the green eyes grew wider, Bodie smiled
wickedly. "And yes, he will wear a black leather jock strap. In the
meantime...." His voice trailed off as he placed his thumbs on Doyle's
lips.

Aware of what was being asked by the silent signal, Doyle kissed the soft
pads of the thumbs, agreeing to do whatever his lover wanted, no questions
asked. This was a game they played often, one where total passivity
contrasted with total dominance. And although he frequently took the more
aggressive role, he enjoyed the passive one more. He liked not being in
charge, liked not having to make decisions; he liked simply reacting. Most
of all, he liked the slow arousal, the loving way Bodie worshipped his
body. Anticipation made Doyle's heart beat faster as he smiled at his
lover.

"Follow me," Bodie instructed quietly. He led Doyle into the living room
where he'd prepared a bed of pillows in the moonlight. Once Doyle, still
wrapped in the towel was stretched out on the makeshift bed, Bodie said,
"Close your eyes and try to feel the gentle touch of the moonbeams. In the
Congo, there is a legend that says if you can sense their caress, you're
with the one who loves you most."

In love with the whimsy he'd discovered in Bodie, Doyle complied. And
though he was not certain he could feel the moonbeams, he did know the
blue eyes were studying him. He shivered when the towel was carefully
unwrapped, exposing his entire body to the moon. Again, he could sense his
lover's scrutiny as the man admired, loved what he saw. Awareness of how
much he pleased his lover, how aroused Bodie became just by looking, sent
blood surging into Doyle's prick.

Forcing himself to obey the rules, Doyle kept his eyes closed and his
hands away from a firming cock. As he lay there, he felt a prickling
sensation suddenly and wondered if it was the moonbeams' caress. He
swallowed hard in an effort to bank down the desire flowing through him.
Anticipation was a tremendous turn on for him.

When Bodie could no longer restrain his hands and lips, no longer keep
them from touching, he knelt on the pillows. Hoping his caress was as soft
as the moonlight's, he let his fingers move over Doyle's body, lingering
as they went to enjoy the silky chest hair, the inside of the thigh, the
irregularity of the right cheekbone.

Doyle quivered, the gentle stimulation both ticklish and erotic. Since
loss of control was part of his role, he allowed himself to whimper as the
fingers fondled his balls. When lips and tongue replaced the feather-light
sensation of the fingers, Doyle moaned.

"Keep your eyes closed," Bodie whispered into Doyle's ear. "You're so
beautiful, Ray, so perfectly gorgeous I can hardly concentrate on anything
else when you're in the room." Bodie ran his tongue in spirals around the
outer edge of Doyle's ear. When the man shuddered, Bodie plunged his
tongue inside. "That's what my cock is going to do to you, moonshine. It's
going to tease you and then take you." As Doyle's eyelids fluttered in
response, Bodie repeated, "Keep your eyes closed."

Doyle drew in several ragged breaths. His cock already ached with the need
to be worked.

As he watched Doyle's hands edge closer to his body, Bodie, pleased with
the reaction, decided it was time to introduce his partner to a new
variation of the relationship between pain and pleasure. "We're gonna do
something a little different tonight. You trust me, don't you? You know
that I won't hurt you, don't you, that I'd stop whenever you want me to?"

Iteration of the rules of their game concerned Doyle. He opened his eyes
reluctantly, knowing he'd lose his arousal. The last time they'd paused
for this sort of speech had been when they'd experimented with tit clamps.
There'd been too much pain for either to enjoy the experience.

Aware of the direction his partner's thoughts had traveled in, Bodie said,
"This will not be a repeat of the tit clamps. When this was done to me, it
hurt a bit at first; but the pain was good because it helped me hold out
longer. And what little pain there is is eventually overwhelmed by the
incredible pleasure."

Doyle was dubious. While unafraid of sexual experimentation, he had yet to
find any pleasure in pain. He was also curious about who'd taught Bodie.
"You've done this?"

Bodie nodded. Understanding what was really being asked, he took a deep
breath.

The hesitancy was Doyle's answer. "You did this with Keller, didn't you?
Well, count me out." He was about to get up, but Bodie quickly straddled
his torso, pinning him to the pillows.

"Wait a minute. If you apply that logic to my past, Ray, I can't even kiss
you anymore. It was a sweaty old ship's captain who taught me to suck cock
the way I do. A merc in Angola *made* me learn to lick arse. A woman in
Durbin showed me how to work tits so well. As for kissing, well -- "

Defeated, Doyle clamped a hand over his lover's mouth. "It's just that I
hate Keller."

Bodie frowned. Raymond Doyle hated few people. "Why? I've never
understood."

"I know," Doyle said sighing. Since he felt there should be few, if any,
secrets between lovers -- except about Christmas presents -- he decided to
finally answer Bodie's question. "I hate the way he used you. I hate the
way he used CI5. I hate him because when I went to interrogate him, he had
the balls to make a pass at me. But I really hate him because he knew that
I allowed it because I wanted to know what you'd found in him. And I hate
him because he told me how much you like having your balls sucked. Told me
the information was a wedding present."

Not surprised by his former lover's audacity, Bodie laughed as he pictured
the scene in the hospital room. Doyle, ever the victim of his own
curiosity, would have sat there wide-eyed as he listened to Keller pour
out what he'd shared with Bodie.

"It's not funny," Doyle shouted, offended by his lover's reactions.

"Yes it is," Bodie insisted. Looking into the green eyes, luminous in the
moon's light, he added, "It's so typical of you. You have to know, even if
the answer pisses you off. I can't begin to explain why, Ray; but it's one
of the many things I love about you -- tenacious and curious, even when it
hurts." He leaned forward to kiss his lover. When Doyle kept his lips
tightly closed, Bodie persisted, licking, outlining, teasing until Doyle,
who loved to be kissed, opened his mouth. When the man reciprocated, Bodie
kissed his way to Doyle's ear. "Let me teach you this. I promise it'll be
a hell of a ride."

The tension in the body beneath him told Bodie that his lover remained
unconvinced. Fully aware of how quickly Doyle would respond if he knew
what was going to happen, Bodie switched tactics. "We'll start again, with
the moonlight caressing your gorgeous, naked body. Just as the beams make
love to you, so will my fingers as they touch you everywhere, everywhere
except where you most want to be touched. When you're shivering with need,
my lips will take you, licking your lips, your nipples, your balls and
especially that sensitive spot on the inside of your right thigh. When you
can't stand it anymore, when your hands involuntarily start to move toward
that beautiful, long prick of yours, I'm gonna put your hands under your
arse. You're gonna cup your own arse and your fingers will be near your
hole. By the time I'm through touching and teasing you, you're gonna be
trying to fuck yourself.

"About this time, you'll be glad to have the pain in your arms because I'm
gonna start sucking you. I'll begin with your lush, lipstick-ad lips and
work my way to the hollow at the base of your neck. From there, I'll suck
your little, brown hard tits till you beg me to do your cock. But I'm
gonna ignore that and concentrate on your belly button. Just when you
think I might be moving down to do your balls, which'll be in knots by
then, I'll suck your toes, milking each one till it wishes it were a
prick.

"You'll be glad of the pain then. You'll use it to hold on to, to keep
yourself from coming. But you'll also be squirming, pleading with me to
take you, to release you from the sweetest torture you've ever felt. This
time, when you beg for it, I'll kiss you till you're breathless and then,
then I'll take you I won't even touch your cock till I'm deep in you, till
I've filled your tight arse with my big, fat prick. When *I'm* ready, then
and only then, will I take your beautiful meat in my hand and work you.
Won't take long for you to come all over my chest. The warmth of your
juice, all over me, the contractions and the sight of you finally
abandoning yourself to an ecstasy I've created will send me over, making
me shoot my load deep inside you. And just when you think it's over, that
you've never felt so high, I'll touch your prostrate. It'll --"

Doyle put his hand over Bodie's mouth. "If you don't stop now, I'll come
before you start."

Pleased, Bodie moved off his lover. "Relax," he encouraged gently, knowing
Doyle needed to calm down, knowing how it would keep Doyle going *not* to
know when they would actually start. "Let the moonlight love you," he
urged softly, kissing Doyle's ear. "Close your eyes and feel the caress of
the moonbeams."

Doyle did and what followed was every bit as wonderful as Bodie had
promised. Unable to summon an ounce of energy, he felt his now boneless
body being pulled into the warm embrace of Bodie's body and arms.

"Well?" Bodie asked.

Doyle could only sigh.

"Good," said Bodie softly as he surrounded them with the duvet. "Sweet
dreams, sunshine."

They awoke, stiff and tired, a few hours later as sunlight stole into the
room. "We should go to bed," Doyle murmured, unwilling to move. "Shit. We
have to be at work in two hours."

Bodie snorted. "Doyle, you're the one who insisted that *we* could take
care of everything for a few days while the Cows went off on their
honeymoon."

"Yeah, I know," Doyle answered, sighing dramatically. "Do you think they
fuck? I mean, the only reason I know he even has a prick is because I've
seen him pee with it. Do you suppose he knows what else it's for?"

"Doesn't matter. *It'll* know as soon as he limps into bed with
Elizabeth."

Chucking, Doyle asked, "Think it'll make any difference at work, now that
he might be gettin' it on a regular basis?"

"Nah," Bodie replied, stroking his lover's back. "Probably make him
meaner. Since he'll feel better inside, he'll have to make the outside
twice as tough."

"Yeah," Doyle agrees as he nuzzled Bodie's neck. "This next month while he
gets sortedout ought to be hell on earth and we'll have *you* to thank for
it. Why *did* you do it?"

It was a rhetorical question, but Bodie answered it anyway. "After that
mess with Annie, I felt like I owed him. I mean, it was at *my* suggestion
that he opened the door to his feelings for her. She really did break his
heart. When we met Elizabeth and I saw how well they worked together, I
thought maybe they'd click outside work as well. No one deserved to live
with a broken heart and she had one too."

Touched by the sweetness of his lover's admission, Doyle moved down to
kiss the soft skin over the man's heart. "And speaking of injured hearts
-- has yours healed?"

"Yeah," Bodie said with a deep sigh of contentment. "It started to mend
the first time you smiled at me."

The romantic words made Doyle feel happier than he thought he had a right
to feel. He shifted so that he could look into the blue eyes. He wanted to
tell Bodie so much about how wonderful it was to have him as a lover, but
all Doyle could do was smile. When Bodie blushed, Doyle kissed the flushed
cheeks. "I love you," he whispered.

"That's why I want to play Cupid for everyone else. I think everyone
should feel this way. If they did, there'd be a hell of a lot less crime
and terrorism in the world."

Doyle nodded. "I hope the Cows can be as happy as I am right now." He
kissed Bodie again. Still too enervated even for a chaste kiss, he slid
down till he could put his head on Bodie's chest. With the man's strong,
steady heart beating in his ear, he asked, "So who's next on the list,
Cupid?"

"Well," Bodie began enthusiastically, "there's that new computer operator
in the file room -- Alicia is her name -- and I think she'd be perfect for
Jax."

As his partner proceeded to outline his campaign, Doyle let himself drift
with the flow of words till he was deep in a dream about a Cupid who was
determined to mend all the broken hearts in the world.

When he realized Doyle was asleep, Bodie stopped talking. Gently, he
caressed the soft, warm skin beneath his hands. Happy to have found Doyle,
glad that he might have helped George Cowley and Elizabeth Walsh, Bodie
let himself feel contentment inside himself. Sighing deeply with joy when
Doyle murmured his name, Bodie went back to sleep.

-- THE END --

*Originally published in *The Hatstand Express 23**

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