The Professionals Circuit Archive - Finger Lickin' Good	Finger
Lickin' Good

 

by O Yardley

  
 Magic!

Bodie lay back on the short turf watching small, cotton-wool clouds float
lazily past his eyelash-hazed vision and decided that was the only word to
describe the day.

Slightly drunk on fresh air and exertion, he tried to determine why it was
so; why it was that an unexpected unanticipated day off such as this
should be so wrought about with indefinable promise, the lure of the
unknown.

Answer came in one word.

Ray.

Unknowing, Bodie's lips curved in contentment that, as usual when there
was no time to make arrangements, conventional dates, they'd made do with
each other's company.

No--Bodie frowned a little--not made do; that implied something
make-shift, second best. Expediency. Doyle was no stopgap, no vicarious
alternate: Doyle was, quite simply, the best company going.

Magic.

And all to himself, unshared. No birds. No CI5.

That was what made it special.

Enchanted by this discovery he rolled onto his side, seeking out his
partner where he lay, propped on one elbow, enigmatic green eyes fixed on
his face.

Bodie opened his mouth.

"About time, too," Doyle said tartly. "Thought you'd passed out, the way
you flopped down there. Macklin'd do his nut if he knew you couldn't climb
a little hill without needin' a six-day convalescence afterwards."

"Little hill!" Hurt by the aspersion, Bodie flapped an indignant hand at
the far-distant countryside.

Ivinghoe Beacon provided a panoramic view towards the south and west,
extending mile after rolling mile. The route they had taken was not an
easy one even for someone in top condition. After three days of non-stop
activity and broken sleep snatched at odd times in the backs of cars they
were neither of them precisely at their peak, but Doyle, typically, had
taken the well-worn path almost at a run.

Not fair, Bodie thought pathetically, tempted at first to remind Doyle of
the twenty pounds extra weight he'd had to lug up the almost vertical
grass wall.

Abandoning the idea of trying to get justice--he'd been on the receiving
end of Doyle's scathing comments on his eating habits all too often--he
simply said, "It was your idea to come out here instead of goin' home and
gettin' some decent kip. Nice and quiet you said. Get a chance for a
snooze in the sunshine.

He jerked his head, indicating the crowd of school-kids, ordnance survey
maps grimly in hand, picking out visible landmarks at the top of their
penetratingly shrill voices, scuffling half-heartedly amongst themselves,
indulging in the constant game of one-up.

Doyle grinned. "We were like that once."

Bodie surveyed him beneath disdainful eyelids. "Still are-- least, you
are. Always like to be top dog, you do."

Unfazed, Doyle nodded. "Yeah. Always like to be the one on top, I do." A
wanton tongue flicked out, traced a lazy line along an upper lip,
delicately removing sweat almost in afterthought. An excuse.

Bodie looked away, eyes searching out the silver line of the Grand Union
Canal snaking its way down the Marsworth flight. "Macho," he said
thoughtfully. "Sticks out a mile." He sniggered, his ill-chosen phrase
amusing him. "Small guys are always the same," he said dismissively. "Got
something to prove, haven't they?"

Doyle just glared at him and then lowered his gaze pointedly to Bodie's
waistline.

Confident of muscle rather than fat, Bodie lay still absorbing the look.
Enjoying it. Surprised, he came bolt upright. "I'm thirsty," he said, eyes
daring Doyle to see that his heavy-lidded gaze had had so unexpected an
effect. "An' hungry. Haven't had a bite since yesterday afternoon," he
reminded his partner mournfully.

Doyle picked up his discarded jacket, rummaging in its capacious pocket
for the meagre picnic they'd stopped to buy in the near-by village. "Won't
have calmed down yet," he said, tossing the can over. "It'll go all over
your...."

"Face," Bodie supplied, getting a shower of warm, sticky Coke.

"Messy Herbert," Doyle said lazily. "Give us a drink, you greedy bugger.
Don't hog it all. Gotta make it last, y'know. Only got four cans and a
packet of biscuits...always providin' you didn't eat 'em all on the way
up. Wouldn't put it past you."

With great dignity Bodie handed over the squashed packetful, withholding
the can though and taking another huge mouthful of over-warm fuzziness.

"You've been lyin' on 'em," Doyle said, disgusted.

"In my hip pocket, weren't they?" Bodie yawned, relinquishing the can at
last.

Doyle tipped it, drank deeply, satisfyingly, for two long swallows and
then gulped air along with the last, begrudged dregs.

Beside him, Bodie emitted a long, rumbling, contented belch.

"Didn't your mum teach you anything about manners?" Doyle enquired with
the air of one tried beyond bearing.

"Yeah, not to slurp hot drinks." Bodie vented a final burp, punctuating
the insult.

Doyle sighed exaggeratedly, produced another can from his pocket and
popped it. "I'm gettin' as bad as you." He flicked the ring casually
Bodie's way. "Shortbread 'n Coke for breakfast. I'll end up with clogged
arteries and bad breath."

"Dunno about your arteries," Bodie said, "but..." leaning close and
sniffing ostentatiously, "your breath's all right."

Momentarily stilled, their eyes held, faces close.

Too close.

Bodie pulled back, astounded at himself, darting a quick, anxious glance
around to see if anyone had noticed. Christ, for one, brief second he'd
been going to.... Crazy fool. As if he would have done anything so mad as
to kiss Doyle here, in full daylight, in open view of thirty or forty
yelling kids. Jesus, but that would have given them something to put in
their essays tomorrow. He sniggered, betrayed into near-hysterical
laughter as tension eased.

"What's so funny?" Doyle enquired, tilting his head back and drinking
again, lazily, slowly, obviously savouring the sensation of warm,
prickling sweetness in mouth and throat.

Bodie stared at the long line of Doyle's exposed neck, the artless pose of
sensual pleasure as his Adam's apple jerked with each gulped mouthful.
Couldn't the little bugger ever do anything without investing it with an
insinuation of invitation? Probably not, Bodie thought, resigned. Born
declaring open season on his body most likely.

Doyle turned, heavy lids lifting, one eyebrow rising in silent question.

"Have a biscuit," Bodie said prosaically, deliberately destroying the
moment, willing the atmosphere to lighten.

But Doyle was not listening; the thin legs were crossed, tightening denim
around a skinny flank as he rose in one, sure movement.

"Let's go to the zoo."

"Wha'?" Bodie looked up, squinting against the morning glare, seeing Ray
haloed by sunlight, his hair a gold-brown aureole, face invisible to
Bodie's dazzled eyes.

"The zoo," Doyle said patiently. "Whipsnade. It's not far away. Come on."

Bodie followed.

It was just like escorting a child. Ray was in an odd mood today, playful
almost--not the self-contained, self-sufficient Ray Doyle of working
hours; not the relaxed yet wary charmer of young women; not even the
happily at ease companion of pub or squash court. Bodie simply did not
know what to make of him, but tagged along obediently, pandering to his
capriciousness, responding to his quirky humour revelling in his company.

Ray was all right.

Having long finished their Cokes they bought pork pies and cans of beer
and ate a makeshift lunch perched on a hillside looking down at an
enclosure of wallabies bobbing like rubber rabbits in the long grass.

"I'm still hungry," Bodie said discontentedly.

"You would be! Can't you wait until we get home?"

"Nope. We could go and have a proper meal in the restaurant," Bodie said
hopefully, surveying his friend expectantly, awaiting decision.

"Not effin' likely," Doyle declared inelegantly. "'ere, 'ave one of
these."

He extracted a battered looking packet of biscuits from his jacket.

Bodie brightened. "Forgotten all about those!" He held out his hand.

Doyle turned his shoulders away, holding the packet out of Bodie's reach.

"'ang on, 'ang on, wait till I get the wrappin' off. Worse than eatin'
toffees with the paper on, that is. All that plastic--plays havoc with
your derby."

"Derby?" Bodie frowned.

"Derby," Doyle repeated patiently. "Derby Kelly...belly. 'ere you are,
there's two bits 'aven't gone into crumb."

He scrabbled in the cellophane, picking out a reasonably sized piece of
the broken shortbread.

"Don't 'alf get your fingers covered in sugar," he commented, flicking
them fretfully under Bodie's nose.

Bodie took the thin wrist, drew the hand to his mouth.

"Cummere then, give us your mitt if you're that fussy."

And he licked delicately at Doyle's fingertips, savouring the mixture of
sweetness and salt adhering there, taking each finger in turn and sucking
it into his mouth to cleanse it.

Doyle whimpered, a quiet gust of sound.

Astounded, Bodie paused and looked at him.

His partner's head had gone back, mouth open, eyes half-closed in sensual
abandon.

Entranced, Bodie sucked a little harder on the springy pad of Doyle's
middle finger, eliciting another soft murmur of pleasure. At the sound,
Bodie grew greatly daring, turning the hand palm upwards and licking
sensuously down between each pair of fingers.

Doyle's hand curved, fingers caressing Bodie's cheek.

"Jesus...." A whispered, breathy plea. "Bodie, don't. Stop it. You'll get
me so bloody turned on."

Bodie stopped, looked up, eyes alight. "Could I? Just like that?"

Doyle pulled his hand away, dropped it onto his knee and smiled, clearly
embarrassed. "Just like that," he agreed, lightly, attempting casualness.
"Got very sensitive fingers, I have."

Bodie absorbed the knowledge, entranced by it. If he could do that to Ray,
out here in full view of passing families.... He drew in a long, deep
breath, knowing now what he wanted, what he'd wanted all day, wanted
forever....

"Ray."

His partner looked up, wary at first, eyes widening as he took in Bodie's
expression.

"You turn me on, too," Bodie offered softly. "Have done for months."

The hand on Doyle's crossed knees tightened, knuckles whitening, then
relaxed, fingers plucking restlessly at a loose thread in the seam of his
jeans.

"You do pick your moments, don't you, sunshine?"

There was a definite shake in the voice.

Bodie's tiny smile grew tender.

"Yeah. Here you can't run away. Not without creating a scene."

"Run away?" Doyle flicked a glance around at him, mouth parted, skin
faintly flushed, a line of sweat beading his upper lip. "Nah." He grinned.
"Why would I want to run away?"

"Would if you knew what I was thinkin'." Bodie's eyes focussed on that
line of sweat, felt his guts pierced, tightening, heat growing in his
groin. He turned, masked in carefully assumed difference, and rubbed a
fingertip over the wetness on Doyle's upper lip. "Wish that was my
tongue," he said wistfully and licked his finger with hungry longing.

"Bodie!"

Doyle sounded shocked, almost afraid, and his partner grinned unsteadily.

"Like to lick you all over," he muttered, casting a jaundiced eye upon a
multi-coloured ball rolling their way, its drooping-seated owner in hot
pursuit. "That bloody kid's going to... there, I said so."

Both partners winced as the infant took a crashing fall.

"Let's get out of here," Bodie said, deciding discretion was the better
part of valour. Squalling kids didn't come high on his list of desirable
company.

"Oughtn't we to..."

Doyle's police-nurtured instincts could surface at the damnedest moments,
Bodie decided darkly.

"Nah, probably get had up for child molesting. Anyway, there's its mam."

He pointed to a laden pushchair, propelled by a harassed looking female
scarcely more than a child herself. As they left, she was hauling the
child urgently to its feet, scolding it shrilly.

"Poor little bastard," Bodie said, memories tugging unpleasantly.

Doyle's mouth twitched, not unkindly. "Mam," he said softly. "Is that what
you called your mother?"

"When she was around."

Bodie was surprised to hear himself say it; he never talked about his past
even to Ray.

"One day," Doyle promised him, "you can tell me. When you're ready."

Bodie nodded, unbothered. "'spose I'd look a right fool holding your
hand?" he suggested, not very hopefully.

Doyle paused, head turning in astonishment. "You and me both," he said
tartly.

Bodie nodded ruefully, aware that his own sensation of being suddenly shut
away from the world at large, with only Ray for company, was not shared by
the general public.

"Feels like I'm alone with you," he mumbled.

Ray was showing the whites of his eyes like a frightened horse. "Well,
you're not, for God's sake," he snapped.

"I know. Let's go back to the car," Bodie suggested. If he couldn't get a
few minutes alone with Ray soon he'd go crazy. "At least we can go
somewhere quiet where we can..." 

"Where we can what?" Doyle enquired, eyeing him balefully.

Bodie managed a convincing leer. "Back seat of a car's not a bad place for
it."

"In broad daylight?"

"Nice shady woods -- who's to know?" Bodie had enough love in him to
encompass the world just at the moment.

"I'd know." Doyle stopped abruptly. "Bodie--I'm not fooling, you know."

"Neither," said Bodie with equal sincerity, "am I. And I meant let's go
somewhere we can talk."

Doyle had the grace to admit that his own thoughts had been pursuing
somewhat earthier activities.

"I don't mind," Bodie told him with lofty goodwill. "Always thought you
were a randy little bastard."

"Yeah."

Bodie couldn't help but laugh at Doyle's slyly pleased tone, even while
his heart and stomach were apparently trying to change places, but he kept
silent through the remainder of the walk to the carpark. The things he had
to say shouldn't be overheard.

It was hot in the car, and Bodie slid into the driving seat with a
moment's gratitude for modern upholstery. Old-fashioned plastic may have
been easy to clean, but it nearly burnt your balls off when the car had
been standing in sunlight for any length of time. He leant across, opening
the passenger door, and as Doyle got in, said conversationally, "I love
you, you know."

Doyle half-turned, looked at him and then looked away.

Faintly uneasy, Bodie said, "Does that bother you?"

"No." 

But Doyle didn't say it with any conviction, and Bodie's spirits sank
again.

Doyle flicked another, slightly impatient look his way. "You look as
though I just kicked you in the goolies."

"Feels a bit like it." Bodie kept his tone light enough. "Thought we were
all set to make undying vows 'n' all that shit."

Doyle sucked in a long, sighing breath. "You're going too fast, that's
all."

"Am I?" Bodie wasn't sure Ray was right for once. He tucked his hands
comfortably on the steering wheel, gazing unseeingly at them. "Wanted you
to know--I don't want a one-night stand. You're not someone I'd just...
fool around with."

"Have you ever?" Doyle was apparently giving his own hands a careful
inspection.

"With another bloke? No. 'ave you?"

"No."

Bodie managed a smile. "Expect we'll work something out--that's if you
want to.

"Oh, I want to," Doyle admitted.

A long pause ensued.

"Scares me," Doyle whispered.

Bodie's hand slid across, covered his partner's tightly clenched ones.
"Me, too," he agreed. "That's why I wanted to say it... so's you'd know I
was serious."

Doyle looked up at last, eyes very bright, a sparkle of wetness along the
lower edge, trapped behind long lashes.

Bodie nodded, content for the moment with what he saw betrayed there.
"Let's go home," he said, starting the engine. "We were bloody fools not
to go home right away. We're out on our feet."

"Yeah." Doyle answered him almost listlessly, looking out the window.
"Wanted to be with you, you know."

"Nice when it's mutual," Bodie said easily, happily.

Doyle always liked to make things complicated, worry over details; he'd
soon have him sorted out.

He drove carefully, conscious of a growing need for some physical contact
with Ray, however slight, and at last saw a cart track leading to the
right behind a small copse.

Doyle came out of his growing reverie as the car stopped again. "Where are
we?"

"Somewhere quiet," Bodie said, indicating the trees to their right, the
hedge and bank to their left, the curving lane before them. "All day," he
said carefully solemn, "being with you has felt...special. I like being
alone with you, having you to myself."

A small smile quivered on Doyle's mouth and was repressed.

"Couldn't get close enough, though," Bodie went on. "Not with all those
people around."

Doyle turned in his seat. "You really want to get serious'?"

"Make promises," Bodie agreed. "Told you, you're not a one-night stand.
You're already part of my life. All we're going to do is add to
that...make it physical."

"'All'?" Doyle questioned somewhat scornfully. "You make it sound so
easy."

"No." Bodie shook his head. "Marriage is never easy."

He took Doyle's hand, cradling it within his, then lifted it to his mouth
and rubbed over its back with lips and cheek, lingering with gentle
pleasure before turning his attention to each rounded fingertip, sucking
at them delicately. He could feel Doyle quiver beside him, even though
they were barely touching. Elated by a sense of power greater than he'd
ever experienced he was awed at the same time. "That really gets to you."

It wasn't a question and Doyle knew it. He turned the hand, curving it
around Bodie's cheek, giving in.

"Marriage," he repeated. "Till death us do part?"

Bodie kissed his palm. "Could happen any time," he said softly. "Why waste
what we can have? I love you, Ray."

"Love doesn't solve everything." Doyle sounded dubious.

"I know, but it can help us to solve things between us," Bodie challenged
in return. "Can't it? If we let it?"

"It could," Doyle conceded.

"We'll make it so." Bodie tried to sound confident. "So... marry me, Ray?"

Doyle grinned, suddenly relaxed and easy. "You're an idiot," he said
cheerfully, "but I love you, and I'll marry you... on one condition."

"What's that?"

"That I don't have to lug you across the threshold unless I can use a
wheelbarrow," said Doyle, digging him playfully in the region of his
waist.

"Oof!" Bodie doubled in mock pain, giggling helplessly with mingled
delight and relief. "Don't I get a kiss then?"

Without even looking around them, Doyle offered his mouth.

It was hot, moist, gently responsive and Bodie reached for him blindly,
needing more support than car seat and back could provi de. Clutching
Doyle's arms he gave himself up to a new sweetness, a dark, dizzying
enchantment.

"Look at me," Doyle demanded softly.

Bodie swallowed, lids rising reluctantly.

Doyle closed each one again with a soft pressure of lips and then released
him. "Let's go home." He patted Bodie's knee. "A marriage isn't valid
until it's consummated."

Vaguely, Bodie noted that his hand was shaking as he keyed the ignition.

His own flat was nearest, so he drove there, pausing to pick up a meal at
the corner chippie.

"Didn't realise I was so hungry," he said later, surveying his emptied
plate in surprise.

"Never knew you when you weren't."

Doyle defended his last chip with a determined fork, then relented and
presented it to Bodie after all.

Conscienceless to the last, Bodie ate it, eyes closed in silent ecstasy.

"For that you can wash up," Doyle told him.

"It can wait till the morning." Bodie carried the plates to his small
kitchen, dumped them in the sink. Coming back he was aware of a slight
awkwardness in the atmosphere, tension sparking between them. "Want a
shower?" he asked, affecting ease. "My face is still sticky with Coke."

"You're a messy eater," Doyle agreed absently. "Yeah, let's shower. Like
to be squeaky clean for you."

Bodie gulped.

By tacit consent they showered separately, but they were constantly aware
of each other, glances lingering where before they had politely passed on,
and all too soon they were in the bedroom, facing uncompromising,
king-sized invitation.

Bodie hovered, suddenly hesitant.

Doyle came to his side. "It'll be okay." He was the one to sound confident
now, sure enough for them both. "You'll see."

Bodie lifted his head but found nothing to say.

Doyle smiled, ignoring its wavering. "We'll be okay," he said again and
led the way to the bed, wriggling over to make room for Bodie to lie
beside him. Then he offered one hand, eyes alight, body curved to fit
Bodie's as his partner began delicately to suck at each tendered finger in
turn.

"Wish I'd known months ago..."

Bodie's voice sounded strange to himself, husky with disuse.

Doyle moaned, deep in his throat, a lush erotic rumble. His erection was
already pressing hotly against Bodie's flank.

"What?"

"That this..." Bodie moved to a little finger, took it all in his mouth...
"was such a good way to get you going."

Doyle moaned again, freeing his hand. He opened his eyes. "Slow down.
Going too fast again. You'll make me come too soon."

"Just like that?" Bodie was disappointed, even astounded.

Doyle laughed, running his freed hand in sensuous sweeps over Bodie's
back, bringing him out in a rash of goosebumps. "No, you fool, not like
that. How kinky d'you think I am, for God's sake?"

"Was beginning to wonder," Bodie admitted, face clearing. "Mind you, think
I'd be prepared to try almost anything with you."

Doyle didn't answer for a moment; his eyes were wet again. At last,
shakily, "Christ, Bodie, d'you have to keep makin' my insides go all
funny?"

Delighted, awed, Bodie said, "Happenin' to you, too, is it?"

"I'll end up in a puddle if you keep on."

"Wet my bed and I'll rub your nose in it."

Words only, not really heard, only his body truly aware of reality,
hard/soft pressure of Ray Doyle, firm chest, yielding belly, swollen cock
against hard hipbone.... His hand searched and caught, hungering for
contact, smoothness caressing his palm, heat burning him. 

A gasp from Doyle, a small, pleasured sound. Hands caressing his buttocks
in equal hunger. Fingers bit into him, grazing the edge of his cleft.

Bodie shuddered, fiercely aware of awoken, secret wishes.

Doyle pulled away, breaking contact; without volition, Bodie reached out.
"No! Don't go!" Even to his own ears his voice sounded panicked,
desperate.

"Hey!" A gentle, almost laughing whisper. "I'm here. I'm not going
anywhere. Thought I may be hurting you."

Not even Ray could be that dumb. Bodie clung closer. "Touch me again."

"I *am* touching..."

"No, my... touch my..."

But all the words sounded crude inside his head, guaranteed to break the
spell binding them, so instead he took Doyle's hand and guided it back
"There," he whispered into the soft skin of Doyle's neck, "touch me
there."

Pleasure waves pounded in him, stranding him limp, boneless as a
jellyfish. He pulled away, ashamed of selfishness, afraid of offending,
needing in any case to take Doyle with him. "Beautiful...." He met Doyle's
eyes in rueful agreement, "but too fast."

Pushing Doyle onto his back he parted his legs so that he could kneel over
Doyle's thigh, right knee thrust into Doyle's crotch beneath the heavy
testes, his own balls brushing sweat-slick skin, their aching partially
relieved.

He leaned forward, relishing the extra pressure provided on his genitals,
laying his hands on warm, crisp hair, slick satin smoothness. Doyle
arched, thrust up to him, uttering a small sound, half whimper, half
grunt. It echoed through Bodie and he reached not only to touch but to
sight and sound, knowledge of his own body providing added delight.

He pleasured Doyle slowly, awake to every reactive twitch and sigh,
bringing him to the peak and over, his own climax there in short, gasping
spurts as Doyle spilled over his hands.

He was lying over Doyle--limp, sated, aware of the hands pressing his head
close to Doyle's, their faces damp with sweat and even, Bodie suspected,
tears. He knew his own eyes were wet.

"Didn't even touch you," Doyle murmured regretfully.

"Couldn't help it." Bodie felt suddenly shy, overwhelmed by his body's
response. "Never felt like that before--I mean girls... don't know what
they're feeling, what it's like. You, I knew just what I was doing to you,
what it felt like."

"It felt beautiful," Doyle whispered, giving his ear a tiny lick that even
in his sated condition made Bodie shudder pleasurably. "Only I wish..." He
paused.

Bodie lifted his head, leaned over, touched a tongue tip to Ray's upper
lip and nibbled his lower one lovingly. "Tell me. Tell me anything."

"Wish you'd let me go on touching you here..." A light hand skimmed
Bodie's buttocks. "It was really turning you on."

Bodie flushed helplessly, hiding his face in Ray's neck. "Wouldn't have
wanted you to stop," he rumbled.

"So?"

"You won't want to do that."

"I want to do *anything*, everything." Fiercely. "That's what frightens
me, Bodie, why I'm scared. Knew I'd want to fuck you sooner or later, want
you to do it to me."

Bodie swallowed. "Told you I'd try almost anything with you."

He felt Doyle nod. "Almost..."

The smaller man was tense against him, a slight tremor in his hands.

In his joy and relief, Bodie laughed, unable to help himself in spite of
the possible hurt to Doyle's feelings. "Idiot! I only meant I'm not into S
or anything really peculiar. Don't believe you are either."

Relieved, tension fading, Doyle began to laugh as well. "God, sometimes
you're such a bloody literalist. You had me really worried."

Bodie lifted his head, looked down at him solemnly. "Let me put it this
way--you do anything you want, and if it bothers me I'll say so. How about
that?"

Doyle looked back at him, such tenderness on his face that Bodie's gut
wrenched in response.

"You'd really let me..."

"I really want you to fuck me," Bodie said firmly. "Want to do it to you,
too."

He felt Doyle's hand slide down his body, lift first his own limp penis
and then Bodie's. The green eyes met his in open lust and rueful
frustration.

"Got any oysters?" Doyle asked.

"Who needs oysters," Bodie retorted, "when we can try Colonel Sanders?"

"Colonel Sanders?" Doyle looked bewildered.

Bodie chuckled, a deep contented sound. "Finger-lickin' good, he said and
grabbed for Doyle's hand.

-- THE END --

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