The Professionals Circuit Archive - Bedtime Story	  Bedtime Story

 

by Jane

  
 "Bodie!"

It was the third time in twelve minutes that Doyle had sung out, and Bodie
trotted dutifully up the stairs to the bedroom door, hardly needing to
feign a smile as he caught sight of Ray, sitting propped against the
pillows, golden in the lamplight, bare chested and wearing a patently mock
frown. "What is it this time?" 

"You said you were going to lock up and make cocoa." 

"And that's what I'm doing," Bodie told him. "Milk doesn't boil in a
minute -- you're the culinary wizard, you ought to know. I'll be lucky if
it hasn't boiled all over the cooker while I stand here yacking. Look, be
a good lad and play with yourself for five minutes, will you? And maybe
I'll tell you a bedtime story." 

Doyle gave him a pained expression. He had been shooed off to bed half an
hour before, right after *The Maltese Falcon*, and he was bored. What
could take Bodie so long to tidy up, chuck the dishes into the sink, make
cocoa and set the locks? "I might hold you to that story," he said to
Bodie's departing back. 

"Just so long as you hold me to something nice," Bodie quipped drily, a
chuckle in his voice. 

And Doyle shook his head fondly after him, absently rubbing the right knee
which had cost him three days' grief. There was a bandage on it, it was
still stiff and painful, and the inactivity was driving him to
distraction. Long days at home in an empty flat while Bodie went to work,
getting soft, eating too much; the only exercise he could manage
successfully was of the horizontal variety, and that only more or less
passively, since the knee just wouldn't take his weight. 

Five minutes later, feet padded back up the stairs, and Bodie appeared, a
mug of cocoa in each hand. Ray took one from him and sipped at the
scalding liquid; as usual, it was too sweet for his tastes, but he didn't
complain. Bodie sat on the bedside, kicked off his shoes and leaned back
against the pillows, relaxing. For a long moment they were silent, just
savouring the hot chocolate and looking at each other; then the demon in
Doyle reared its not-so-ugly head. 

"Go on then, let's have a story," he said. "One of your best." 

Bodie blinked. "Goldilocks and the Seven Dwarves? Little Red Robin Hood?
Cinderella and the Three Bears?" 

"Nah. Heard 'em all," Doyle sniffed, hiding a smile. 

"Okay, how about The Bride of Dracula, Frankenstein Sucks and The Monster
From The Blue Lagoon?" 

"Heard them, too," Ray said wickedly. 

Bodie heaved a sigh; Ray was determined. He was full of energy after being
cooped up, eager for all kinds of mayhem. "All right," Bodie said, meeting
the challenge squarely, "I'll make one up." 

It was Ray's turn to blink in surprise. "You -- make one up? This I'd like
to hear!" He settled back into the pillows to witness the minor miracle. 

There was a self-satisfied smirk on Bodie's face that telegraphed his
match plan -- either he had told this story before or he had A Strategy to
work to. Doyle's eyes narrowed as he wondered if he was about to be taken
for a ride. Smiling slightly, Bodie said, "Are we all comfy? Then, we'll
begin. Once upon a time, deep in the forests of Carpathia --" 

"Where?" Doyle demanded, sipping cocoa. 

"Carpathia. It was in the Balkans. Jeez, you're hopeless at geography,
love, aren't you? Where was I?" 

"Deep in a forest," Ray supplied. 

"Right. Deep in this forest, there lived a band of Gypsies, and their
tribal leaders were of royal Gypsy blood. The Gypsy King was very old and
wise, but because he was so old he left most of the derring-do to his
favourite son, who was widely known as the most beautiful lad in all the
land." He looked into Doyle's half-rapt, half-suspicious face. "His name
was Ramondo --" 

Doyle groaned. "Oh, Bodie!" 

"What's wrong with Ramondo? It's a nice name. I like it." 

"All right, get on with it. So Ramondo's in charge of the Gypsies." 

"You catch on quick. He was the most beautiful lad in all the realm, and
no one could resist his innocent charms --" 

"No one?" Doyle's green eyes glittered mischief. 

"No one," Bodie affirmed emphatically. "Because he wore a scarlet silk
shirt and black silk pants that were ever so tight, and golden earrings
that glittered among his curls." 

Now Doyle choked back a giggle. "*That* I'd like to see." 

"So would I," Bodie admitted, with feeling. "Anyway, no one in the land
could resist the beautiful Ramondo -- not even the wicked, but
devastatingly handsome, Crown Prince Bodievski von Passionvort." 

Ray laughed so hard he almost dropped his cocoa. "All right, I believe
it." 

"You do?" Bodie frowned thoughtfully. "Didn't realise it was playing
cards... Anyway, Prince Bodievski had seen Ramondo in the marketplace
where he would come to trade priceless Basque commodities, and he quickly
flew into a right royal passion over the lad. He had to have him for his
very own, and every day he paced up and down in his big, cold castle on
the hilltop, trying to think of a way to woo Ramondo into his boudoir." 

"Hang about," Ray interrupted, "if this Prince is so devastatingly
handsome, why doesn't he just bugger off into the forest and do the big
seduction scene?" 

"He tried, oh, how he tried," Bodie related soulfully. "He crept up on
Ramondo as quietly as he could since he was riding his Arabian stud
stallion, whose name was Wildfire --" 

"Black," Ray guessed drily. 

"Of course. Because Bodievski, as well as being unbelievably handsome, was
evil. Not just bad tempered, but *evil* -- and oh, what he was going to do
with Raymond's -- pardon me, Ramondo's sweet young body when he finally
caught up with it. Because Ramondo heard the horse and fled, discretion
being the better part of valour, and him being a virgin and all." 

Ray guffawed. "Christ, this is corny." 

"I know," Bodie grinned, "but I'm enjoying it." 

"So am I." Doyle mopped at his eyes. "So the virginal Ramondo kept out of
the wicked Bodievski's way, until...?" 

"In a fit of despair, Bodievski decided to do the decent thing. He
dispatched the Captain of the Castle Guard to the Gypsy encampment. There,
in the flickering firelight, to the sound of the violins, he offered
Ramondo a priceless ring --" 

"Just a second," Ray said suspiciously. "What kind of ring? Whereabouts on
your tender, sweet young body does it go?" 

"On your finger, you randy little twerp." Bodie put on an aghast face.
"But Ramondo refused the offer. Of course, the Prince had expected this,
knowing how contrary the lad could be, and the Captain of the Guard had
his orders. He seized Ramondo bodily and carried him off into the night,
delivering him out of the forest, to the ancestral home of the von
Passionvort family, chained, to the feet of Bodievski." 

"Would have made it hard to walk, with somebody chained to his feet," Ray
observed mildly. It was agony not to laugh. 

"Ramondo's chained up," Bodie clarified sweetly. "Hand and foot on the
marble floor." 

Doyle's eyes narrowed. "This is the bit where it gets kinky?" 

"Dunno, I'm making this up as I go along." Bodie shrugged eloquently, eyes
roving over Ray's bare torso. "So the Prince had his Ramondo at last. Ah,
but what to *do* with him?" He noticed, as he spoke, Ray's muscles tensed.
They were playing now -- it was all words and images, and a game, but a
fierce one. "Ramondo, the brave, bonny lad, swore he'd fight to the
death," Bodie said thickly, "and Bodievski bade him submit and enjoy the
conquest of his flesh. He stripped the silken garments from him --" 

"Hang about," Ray said huskily, "what about the chains?" 

"What chains?" Bodie asked vaguely, intent on the disturbance of the
sheets at Doyle's groin, a fascinating little lump under the bedding. 

"The Captain of the Guard delivered the sweet young thing to the evil
Bodievski's feet in chains." 

"Oh, did he?" Bodie forced his mind back to the plot. "Well, he couldn't
take the chains off as well, could he, or Ramondo would duff him up...
He's a scrappy little spitfire, you know." 

"I can imagine." Doyle's eyes were glowing with amusement and a good deal
of hunger. "So he's lying there in the raw, chained up, is he? Christ,
this is kinky." 

"I never promised you Peter Pan," Bodie said smugly. "Prince Bodievski
gazes down at the breathless, naked defiant young virgin, all palpitating
there on the floor..." He broke off into a snort of laughter. 

Doyle was waiting for it -- a lot like Ramondo, Ray thought with a wry
sensation. "Well, go on, what did he do?" 

"Ah, it was Beauty and the Beast, so it was, and something wonderful to
behold. Bodievski's dear old mother never did believe the change that came
about in her rotten son as he fell in love with the Gypsy lad." 

"But what *happened*?" Ray demanded. "I'm -- I mean, *he's* lying there in
chains on the floor, and bloody Bodievski's standing over him --" 

"With a lust you could measure with a yardstick," Bodie elaborated. "He
goes to his knees and soothes the lad's tender brow, and kisses him." He
leaned over toward Doyle and nuzzled his ear. "Like that." He felt the
shiver run through Ray unchecked. "The sweet young virgin knows he cannot
fight --" 

"Why not? I thought he's a scrappy spitfire," Doyle muttered. 

"He's in chains on the floor," Bodie added glibly, "remember?" 

A blush warmed Doyle's skin tones. "Oh, yeah. So Bodievski's falling in
love?" 

"Like Beauty and the Beast. And he picks him up in his arms and carries
him off to his bedchamber." 

"Chains and all?" Ray cast an amused glance at Bodie. 

"Yeah, 'cause he's terrified he'll get separated from his balls if he
takes 'em off -- what d'you expect? He's evil, not stupid. So there's
sweet young Ramondo, with skin like honey and frightened eyes, pressed
down into a mattress of Eider feathers, and what d'you know? Bodievski's
so changed by falling in love that he's nice and gentle, and doesn't even
bruise that tender young flesh. And Ramondo likes the way he strokes and
kisses and licks him, all over his body and back again, until he's
floating away and eager for all of it..." As he spoke, his voice grew
deeper, throatier, and the words became spaced out, reflective, lulling
the listener. 

Ray closed his eyes, and Bodie saw the shiver. "So," Bodie went on in the
same mellifluous tone, "in the wee small hours of the morning, the Prince,
who wasn't evil anymore, took the chains away and threw them out of the
casement, and laid his true love softly in a big four poster bed with
damask sheets and a velvet bedspread." He drew his fingers down the skin
of Doyle's arm; he was hot, and his breath was a little short for some
strange reason. "You want the nice, corny ending now?" 

"Yeah," Ray smiled, his eyes heavy and languid as they looked deep into
Bodie's. 

"In the morning, Ramondo decided he liked it, and was in love with the
good Prince, and they announced their plans to be married, and the Gypsies
all became model citizens, and everyone lived Happily Ever After. The
End." 

"Thank god for small mercies," Ray chuckled. 

"What -- for The End or the Happy Ending?" Bodie demanded, a little
miffed. "I enjoyed it." 

"So did I," Ray admitted, and leaned over to kiss Bodie's uplifted mouth.
"The old, old story like a George Lucas movie. You want me to be Ramondo
for you, eh? In which scene? We haven't got a horse." 

"Oh, anything you like, I'm easy." Bodie stood up to undress, and as he
did, Ray saw that he was equally aroused. 

"Bloody bedtime stories," Doyle muttered affectionately. "They're supposed
to put you to sleep, not get you going." 

Bodie slid into bed beside him and drew him down flat. "Oh, I know lots of
better ways to put you to sleep, my love. Which do you want?" 

"Anything you like," Ray smiled against Bodie's warm shoulder. "I'm easy.
I'm Ramondo for a bit, am I? How do I act as a virgin -- squeal a bit?" 

"You gave me a run for my money, the first time," Bodie reminded him as he
began to make love. "Oh, forget the virginal Ramondo. Be Ray. It's Ray
*I'm* in love with, and this isn't Carpathia, is it?" 

Ten minutes later, carried aloft on a rush of pleasure, irrelevant
thoughts flooded through Doyle's wandering mind. Forests and Gypsy
encampments, silks and golden earrings, and being chained up on the floor
while Bodie -- who had it in him to be harmlessly kinky on occasion --
took off his clothes. Feather beds and velvet bedspreads, and... "Where
did you say Carpathia was?" he asked dreamily, mind miles away, at a
wonderfully inopportune moment, betraying exactly what he was thinking
about. 

Bodie collapsed on top of him in a fit of hysterics. 

It took them nearly twenty minutes to both stop laughing, calm down again,
and get it right.

-- THE END --

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