Lads in Shorts - Blackpool Rock Pt I
BSL is always very patient with my (het)/gennishness, but I like a bit of slash too - so here's some belated (just missed the autumn equinox deadline) slashy - as well as a mite angsty - lads in shorts :0)
Wincing from his headache, Doyle looked up from filling the kettle to peer incredulously through the kitchen window. Slowly his face creased into a grin.
Bodie was lying face down on the grass under the shade of a tree, which was actually growing in the street, but whose large unpollarded canopy spread part way over Doyle's pocket handkerchief sized garden.
For some reason, Bodie never seemed to get saddled with maintaining ground floor accommodation. Bodie always claimed that this was in recognition of his natural superiority, although Doyle always suspected it had more to do with his partner's willingness to prostitute himself for advantage.
Doyle, it was accepted, held himself to higher standards. Neither of them mentioned the fact that, on the one occasion Doyle had attempted to sleep his way to better accommodation, he'd ended up in a mould ridden ice box, barely twenty yards from the gas works. Although, to give credit where it was due, its rat infested concrete yard hadn't needed much in the way of mowing.
But it wasn't Bodie's prone position which held Doyle's rapt attention. It was his partner's choice of clothing. Bodie had arrived at his flat in a tracksuit, helped himself to the last can of lager, wheedled Doyle into going out to fetch some more and disappeared into the garden.
Doyle had told himself that he needed milk anyway, bid his partner a cheerily caustic farewell and had returned not five minutes ago with both the shopping and a thumping great headache, which he blamed in equal parts on the suffocating mugginess of the day and the insufferable smugness of his partner.
Life on the beat had taught him several valuable lessons, not least of which was that it was never too hot for tea.
It had also taught him that there was a point on the thermometer above which the great British public abandoned all sense of reason and any level of lunacy could be expected.
It must have hit that point sometime on his round trip to the shops, because during his absence Bodie had divested himself of his tracksuit and now lay prostrated like a Hammer virgin before the Satanic altar of slaughter with his ivory skin exposed almost entirely to the skies.
Almost entirely, that is, except for the tiniest pair of shorts Doyle had ever seen. White, tight and a downright fright, they were barely less than transparent. He knew for a fact that his prudish partner had less revealing underwear. Not that Bodie always chose to wear it, but right now that was the least of Doyle's considerations.
Doyle put the kettle down and went out into the garden. Normally Bodie's pavlovian instincts would have had him pushing up on his arms, alert and salivating. Bodie had long ago learned to associate his partner with sustenance, although which of them had conditioned which was anybody's guess.
Bodie didn't stir, Doyle crouched down to examine the apparition in closer detail. An examination which revealed the true absurdity of the situation.
That Bodie didn't always choose to wear underwear was an omission Doyle put down to the myths of military tradition. He had no other explanation for such a deviation from character. Bodie was neither unsubtle enough, nor unattractive enough, to use it as bait. Besides, Doyle had seen his pulling pants.
But Bodie did prefer to exercise unfettered, which seemed only fitting in CI5's resident Adonis - and Bodie had arrived in a tracksuit. You didn't have to be a Detective Constable to put two and two together. The tiny, castration threatening garment had to be Doyle's.
Marvelling at the improbable act of contortion implied by the presence of the microscopic body covering, Doyle leaned forward and whispered in his partner's ear ''Needn't have bothered on my account, Sunshine.''
Bodie stirred lethargically and rolled over, the dark shadowing under the barely opaque material of his fly lending credence to Doyle's supposition ''Didn't'' said Bodie ''But you've got neighbours.''
''I've also got towels, why didn't you wrap one of them round yourself?'' suggested Doyle, adding for weight of authority ''Cowley does.''
''You been playing away on me, Doyle?''
''Not mine'' Doyle elaborated patiently ''His. Like he does in his office, when he's...you know...when he's - ''
'' - Kek-less'' supplied Bodie with an amused, sardonic tilt of his eyebrow.
''I think I've just gone off me supper'' Doyle muttered under his breath before demanding by way of escape ''How did you get into those things?''
Bodie mustered a cunningly lopsided leer and countered ''Wouldn't you rather see me get out of them?'' as he tugged ineffectually at the zip.
''You'd need surgery'' scoffed Doyle.
''What kind of incentive is that?'' complained Bodie.
''All you're going to get, mate'' said Doyle, rising to his feet ''I need a cuppa.''
''You're not normal'' grumbled Bodie as he subsided into Doyle's overgrown lawn.
''Lucky for you, then'' Doyle called back airily as he re-entered the kitchen ''Normal bloke wouldn't 'ave you.''
''You 'aven't 'ad me'' Bodie lifted his voice to protest peevishly.
''I thought we were worried about the neighbours?''
''More worried about me - ''
''Bodie!''
'' - metabolism'' finished Bodie with impish propriety.
Doyle reappeared with two hastily made mugs of tea ''I don't know why I put up with you.''
''Yes, you do'' said Bodie as Doyle handed him a mug ''I bet the neighbours do too, the amount of racket you make.''
Bodie grinned unrepentantly as Doyle's face flushed rosily with colour ''Don't'' protested Doyle with maidenly demureness.
''I love it when you go all virginal on me, Doyle.''
''Been a while since I was that'' observed Doyle, making a stab at reclaiming his habitual cockiness.
Bodie grinned, announcing into his mug ''Count it to the day, Angelfish.''
''You caught me at a weak moment.''
''Seems to me, I've caught you at several weak moments'' Bodie recalled airily ''For instance, if memory serves, you were feeling quite weak on that obbo yesterday and this morning you were fair overcome with it.''
Undefeated, Doyle suggested with happy illogicality ''So that's what those are, a chastity belt. Worried I'm after your virtue.''
''Not much of it left'' reflected Bodie without concern ''Not sure I had much to begin with.''
''Certainly led me astray'' Doyle agreed.
''Mind?'' Bodie prompted with gentle sentimentality.
''You could have picked a day when I wasn't so sore'' grumbled Doyle with some feeling.
''You didn't complain at the time.''
''Like I said'' repeated Doyle ''Weak moment.''
''So, how come you'd never...you know...with a bloke?'' asked Bodie ''I mean, like we did?''
''Dunno, s'pose I'd never fancied it before.''
''So how come you fancied it with me?''
Doyle fixed his partner with a censoriously cynical glare.
''I'm not fishing'' protested Bodie ''Just can't figure how you missed doing it, if you like it that much.''
''Didn't know, did I?'' retorted Doyle with some vehemence ''How much opportunity d'you think I got?''
''Well you must have had some.''
''When?'' demanded Doyle.
''You weren't always a copper.''
''What makes you think coppers don't?'' asked Doyle irritably.
''Do they?''
''How the hell should I know?''
Bodie contemplated this for a few moments and then said uncertainly ''So, I really was your first? I don't mean for...I mean, at all?''
Doyle didn't answer immediately, instead looking around to take in the sky, the tree canopy, the buzzing of the insects, the brilliance of the sun, and finally, with a steady gaze, his partner.
''Doyle'' said Bodie very quietly ''Why d'you let me?''
''Really want to know?'' asked Doyle with bashful sincerity.
''Yeah, I think I would, Sunshine'' answered Bodie honestly.
''Wasn't sure how to stop you'' admitted Doyle.
''Ray...''
''No, hear me out, Bodie'' added Doyle hastily ''It wasn't the first time I'd taken a bit of a thumping, not even the worst time, but it got to me, not sure why it did, but it did. Like I said, Sunshine, weak moment.''
''Ray...''
''No, let me finish, Bodie. The way you were looking at me, I couldn't figure out if you were about to stand me a round, or finish the job yourself, only you didn't do either, you kissed me.''
''Seem to remember you kissed me back...''
''It seemed the safest thing to do.''
''Safest..?'' echoed Bodie blankly.
''Yeah'' said Doyle ''You have no idea how much that confused me, next thing I know, I'm in your bed doing things that confused me even more.''
''Thought you were enjoying it'' said Bodie miserably.
''I was'' said Doyle ''I just didn't understand why. Then you...well...I wasn't sure about that. I mean, come on Bodie, what bloke would be sure about that? Only I didn't want to come off as some kind of...Anyway, I just thought I should let you do it, get it over with.''
''Cheers'' said Bodie bleakly.
''Sorry, Bodie, but how was I supposed to know? I thought all blokes did it, I thought you'd think...then it felt like you were tearing me in two, but it felt like I wanted you to, must be how birds feel...you know...first time.''
''Not my birds'' rumbled Bodie ominously ''Haven't had one who hasn't for years, but I took care of 'em when I did.''
''You took care of me, Bodie. Honest. I'd just never done it before. Didn't know what I was doing...I mean, first kiss to first...in one night. Bit of a baptism, Sunshine.''
''Then why?'' pressed Bodie.
''Because somewhere between you kissing me, and you sticking your greasy great paws where the sun don't shine, I realised that I'd been confused for years...only, I'd always thought what I needed was a bird.''
''Sometimes it is.''
''Yeah, sometimes it is, and sometimes it isn't. I thought when I really liked a bloke, when I felt...Well, I thought it meant I was desperate, that I really needed a bird, that it was sending me funny.''
''I thought I was gay'' announced Bodie.
''What?''
''That's why I jacked in school. Fancied this teacher, only he was married, and I thought I must be turning gay. Knew what they did to gay blokes. Didn't fancy it much.''
''How can you turn gay?'' objected Doyle ''It's not like joining the bloody scouts.''
Bodie raised a salacious eyebrow.
''You're sick'' Doyle informed his partner curtly ''You know that, don't you?''
Bodie grinned, unabashed, conceding ''Don't worry, Sunshine, didn't last long. I discovered I still liked a bit of skirt, only I picked the wrong bird and had to jump ship. Then I discovered I wasn't the only one.''
''Only one, what?''
''Swung both ways'' clarified Bodie ''Some blokes kept it to themselves, some blokes did it 'cos they couldn't find a bird, but there were enough like me. Blokes who genuinely liked a bit of both, I mean, that I figured it had to be normal.''
''So while I'm crossing me legs and thinking I've gone round the twist, you're shagging anything old enough to follow you home?''
''Girls, yes. Blokes, no.''
''Eh?''
''Well girls is alright, isn't it? They only have to be sixteen. But you could still get done for a bloke and, even when it was okay, you had to be a hundred and six. It could've dropped off waiting'' reasoned Bodie ''So I just figured, if they weren't younger than me, it had to be alright.''
''Even in Africa?''
''Couldn't get me head round some of their rules'' Bodie replied decisively ''Stuck to the ones I knew.''
''What if I'd've been younger than you?''
''I'd've shagged Cowley'' said Bodie, managing to maintain an almost straight face.
Refusing to pander to such blatant provocation, Doyle looked pointedly at the straining bulge the conversation had induced under his partner's fly ''Just how were you planning to get out of those things?''
''Same way I got in'' said Bodie, affronted.
''Baby oil and a can opener?'' suggested Doyle innocently.
Bodie gave his partner a look of haughty disdain, squeezed three fingers of one hand under his waistband and began to tug pointedly at his zip with the other. It refused to budge, so he tugged harder, but the zip remained stubbornly in place. Bodie rolled to his side, curled up a little, trapping the fingers still under his waistband, and tugged again.
''Stuck?'' enquired Doyle helpfully.
Bodie raised a sourly scornful eyebrow and tried once more, to no avail.
Knowing his partner's stubbornness where matters of pride where concerned, Doyle quietly got up and went back into the kitchen. Bodie barely acknowledged his departure.
Doyle rummaged around in the kitchen drawer and retrieved a large carving knife and a knife sharpener, which he proceeded to wield with calm efficiency whilst listening to the increasingly frustrated grunts, and occasional swearword, emanating from the garden.
When Doyle considered both the knife and his partner had been sufficiently primed, he sauntered back into the garden, bearing the blade conspicuously before him.
Bodie halted the exertions which had bathed him in a gothically pearlescent sheen of perspiration long enough to demand ''What d'you think you're going to do with that?''
''Cut you free'' replied Doyle, enjoying every syllable.
''You're not coming anywhere near me with that thing!'' protested Bodie, sitting bolt upright, his voice detouring through some very unlikely high notes.
Doyle knelt beside his decidedly nervous patient ''Don't worry, Sunbeam. I'm very attached to your...attributes.''
''It's not you staying attached to them that's worrying me'' objected Bodie, askance.
Confident of his skill, Doyle touched the tip of the blade to Bodie's fly. Bodie immediately breathed in, trying to suck in his stomach, but the shorts were welded irretrievably to his heat swollen, sweat slick skin. From Doyle's perspective, however, the manoeuvre did have the advantage of preventing Bodie from speaking.
Taking his time, Doyle allowed the tip of the sharpened blade to part the cloth just under Bodie's waistband, adjacent to his fly. The threads broke apart with a tortuous series of dull little popping sounds, like canvas under strain. Bodie's concentration was absolute, a solitary bead of sweat traced the contours of his temple and ran down the side of his jaw, falling with it's own barely perceptible thud onto the drum tight fabric of the shorts.
Doyle looked up and smiled into anxiously straining blue eyes, Bodie nodded unconvincingly in reassurance, still refusing to release his breath.
Doyle continued to ease the blade point downwards, tracing the line, first of Bodie's fingers, still crushed beneath his waistband and numb from compromised circulation, and then along the contours of his impressive erection.
''Doing things for you, is it, Sunbeam?'' asked Doyle, allowing the flat of the blade to graze over the firmness under the fabric.
If, as the poets had it, Bodie's eyes were the mirror to his soul, then his soul was filled with mute desperation.
Doyle let the blade play for an instant more, then returned it to its inexorable path through the fabric of the shorts. He was aware of Bodie tensing as the blade came closer to the more malleable parts of his anatomy.
''Don't worry'' said Doyle, an unexpected impulse causing him to allow the point of the knife to nip at the flesh below ''I'm not planning to geld you.''
Bodie drew in a sharp breath through his nose, no mean feat considering the volume of air already trapped in his lungs, and spread his legs a little further apart.
Doyle hesitated ''You really are getting off on this, aren't you, Sunshine?''
Bodie's eyes held something indefinable.
''But do you like it?'' pondered Doyle.
Bodie's expression was inscrutable. Doyle did a rapid fire assessment of what he knew of his partner to date and put it together with what he'd seen of life thus far.
''No'' he finally concluded ''Something's got you begging for it, but you don't want it, do you? This isn't like it was for me, this is something else.''
Bodie eased his legs a fraction further apart.
''No'' insisted Doyle with certainty ''No deal, big boy.'' Then he turned the blade and neatly filleted the shorts from Bodie's body.
Bodie released his breath in a gush of air and retrieved the shredded piece of fabric to cover his modesty.
''How d'you know?'' he asked, years of training leaving him barely more breathless than Doyle.
''Know you, don't I, Sunshine?'' said Doyle, lifting his partner's hand to reveal Bodie's groin ''This thing gets ideas you don't, and some day we're gonna talk about why. But not right now, right now is for something else.''
Then he took off his jacket and lowered his head to lap at Bodie's unsubtle erection with the tip of his tongue.
Bodie bucked a little ''Doyle...''
''Not overlooked, Bodie'' reminded Doyle between playful wet licks ''Neighbours can hear us, but they can't see us. Wall's nice and high, not on a bus route. Quiet and secluded.''
''Doyle...'' repeated Bodie weakly.
Doyle moved his attention to the nick he'd given Bodie's balls, cupping and soothing it with lips and tongue. His fingers continued to stroke and cajole Bodie's erection. Bodie surrendered and sank back into the grass ''You're killing me.''
''Not yet, Sunshine'' Doyle paused to assure his partner as he worked his mouth in all the ways he knew Bodie liked, but not sufficiently to bring him the relief of release.
Bodie groaned in misery ''You bastard, Doyle. I'm going to be limping for a week.''
Doyle's fingers worked their way under Bodie's balls and pushed towards the entrance above them. Bodie was too far gone to be of much help.
Bodie almost sobbed as Doyle pushed into him. Bodie's body was running with sweat and an inferno inside. Doyle lifted his head to swallow his partner as, simultaneously, he skilfully and unceremoniously rammed his fingers towards their goal. Bodie instantly bucked into Doyle's mouth and Doyle gagged and gulped against him. Bodie thrashed and moaned, lost in sensation until Doyle lifted his head away and pressed his fingers against the sweet spot he'd found inside the writhing body. Bodie tensed and finally came.
Doyle pulled his fingers out as Bodie spilled himself, knowing Bodie liked the sensation, though it was one which did little for Doyle who preferred to have his partner ride it out inside him.
Doyle hauled himself to his feet but Bodie remained a satiated heap on the ground. Their abandoned tea mugs had spilled their dregs into the lawn and lay like drunken sparrows between the blades of grass. Doyle ignored them, leaving everything, including his partner, where it was and took himself into the flat to scrub his hands. There were still some parts of his new found sexuality that he'd never quite got his head around.
Doyle always performed this ritual in the bathroom and, having cleansed himself to his satisfaction, methodically stripped himself of the rest of his clothing and turned on the shower. The water was tepid, cooling his heated skin and dampening the arousal he had been assiduously denying. He allowed the water to run over his hair, easing his rapidly fading headache, but didn't wash it. Then he shut off the shower, gave his dripping hair a cursory rub over with the towel and padded, glistening and barefoot, into the bedroom.
He laid himself down on the bed to stare at the ceiling and let the evaporating water cool him further. Pleased when he felt the temporary puckering of gooseflesh on his skin. Moments later he heard Bodie shuffling in from the garden. Heard the rattle and clink as Bodie deposited the knife and mugs in the sink and the muffled mechanics of the peddle bin operate as Bodie disposed of the ruined shorts.
Then he heard Bodie make his way to the bathroom, heard the hollow thrumming of the shower, the disrupted rhythms of the water as it pelted over his partner's skin. Then the shower was turned off, followed by an almost silent pause while Bodie towelled the worst of the wetness dry and then Bodie was in the doorway to the bedroom.
''You've left your clothes all over the bathroom floor'' observed Bodie.
''It's my bathroom'' said Doyle, arms folded behind his head.
''Your bed, too'' said Bodie.
''Wanna share?'' asked Doyle.
''Wanna turn over?'' asked Bodie, clambering onto the bed.
Doyle grinned ''Gonna take me roughly from behind?''
''I'm bloody knackered, Doyle.''
''Use your imagination'' replied Doyle impishly, wriggling himself onto his stomach.
''Up for anything?'' asked Bodie.
''Within reason, we both still have to work'' agreed Doyle.
''You might have thought of that before you tied me balls in a knot'' grumbled Bodie.
''You'll live'' pronounced Doyle dismissively and then yelped as a stinging slap assaulted his exposed rump.
Honour satisfied, Bodie got up and disappeared from the bedroom. Doyle heard some rummaging about in his kitchen and then Bodie was back.
''Gonna bugger me with a rolling pin?'' asked Doyle, confident in the knowledge that he didn't currently own one.
Bodie didn't respond, instead he held up a tea towel and spun the corners like a skipping rope until it had twisted itself into a cord, then he reached for Doyle's arm, repeating the procedure with a second tea towel to tie each of Doyle's wrists to the slats in Doyle's old fashioned headboard.
''Kinky'' observed Doyle as Bodie tied a third tea towel over his eyes.
Bodie still didn't speak, silently capturing Doyle's ankles and tying them in similar fashion to the board at the bottom of the bed. Thus spreadeagled, Doyle tested his bonds, smiling as he assured himself that they were well within his ability to escape.
Bodie continued the silent routine, which was doing wonders for Doyle's neglected arousal.
Then Doyle was aware of Bodie leaning over him and parting his abused buttocks as something was delicately drizzled onto him.
''That better not be the extra virgin, mate'' he announced into his darkness.
For which impudence he received another stinging slap.
The few drops of oil ran along the channel between his buttocks, delicately teasing the exposed entrance they protected and following the contours of his body to lose themselves between his legs. The heated, air dried skin absorbing them easily.
Bodie played the game again and again. A bare few drops at a time allowed to tickle their way along the vulnerable path.
Doyle began to squirm as the constant sensation of too little, too often became unbearable.
He tried to disrupt Bodie's steady metronome of torture, but Bodie held him firmly open and pinned to the bed. The oil bottle obviously clamped between the mute lips. Bucking continuously as Bodie drove him slowly out of his mind, Doyle consoled himself with the comfort that Bodie must have an aching jaw by now.
Finally, when he was near to weeping with frustration, the steady drips ceased. Doyle buried his head in the pillow, almost trembling with relief.
A few short moments of respite then a warm tongue suddenly applied itself to the lubricated entry point. Doyle gasped his shock as Bodie's firm tongue sought to pleasure and prepare him.
He knew his body was gaping, hungry for the assault, when he felt something pressed against him. Something almost familiar, but not quite. Not quite Bodie. Blindly, he raised his head, trying to make sense of what his body was telling him. Realising as the not-quite-Bodie pushed into him that the angles were off. Bodie couldn't possibly reach him from the position in which his instincts were telling him Bodie was placed.
Then another sensation, something almost buzzing inside him and he realised what Bodie was doing. What the intruder was. He'd never considered using a mechanical substitute, so it wasn't his. It must be Bodie's. Bodie must have intended this for him all along.
The feeling of having something unknown and alien forced inside him was almost as bewildering as that first night with Bodie. And as with that first night, he put his trust in his partner.
It was harder than Bodie, less forgiving. Not flesh within flesh. He could feel it in ways he couldn't normally feel Bodie. And it was alive inside him. Moving in unnatural, impossible rhythms.
Instinctively, he pulled on his bonds. When Bodie had first done this to him, when it had been Bodie moving inside him, he had used his own hands on himself. The need for control had become ingrained, automatic.
He felt Bodie lean in close and then a gentle whisper in his ear ''Not today, Sunshine. You're not shutting me out today.''
Unnerved and barely still coherent he felt Bodie's hands reach between his legs. Holding him as he held himself, using techniques Bodie must have watched and absorbed uncountable times since he'd allowed him that first violation.
As Bodie violated him now, controlling the thing inside him. Controlling, with strong hands and a wicked suckling tongue, the way he responded to it. And for the first time in his life, he knew he was going to come in another man's hands.
When he did, when he drew up against the unknown thing Bodie had put inside him, left inside him, and knew he couldn't stop himself, that it would be Bodie's hands around him in this final moment of vulnerability, he suddenly felt inexplicably liberated.
And amidst that flare of unexpected liberation, another more familiar, as his body eradicated even that visceral emotion in favour of something more primal.
Bodie held him while the pulses left him, spilling over a hand not his own. Let him settle before easing the alien invader from his body, then gently released him from his bonds.
''You alright, Sunshine?'' Bodie asked him.
''Have I really been shutting you out?'' Doyle asked in return.
''Yeah'' said Bodie ''It's like there's this invisible line you won't let me cross, a piece of you, you won't let me have. Which, when you think about what you will let me have, doesn't make much sense.''
''Yeah'' said Doyle ''But you caught me on the 'op with that.''
Bodie stared steadily into his partner's eyes and suddenly a lot of things fell into place.
''Oh, I get it'' said Doyle ''It worked once, so you thought you'd try it again?''
''And has it?'' asked Bodie.
''Yeah'' said Doyle ''Think it has. That bit, having you hold me, it felt all wrong, felt like I couldn't let go, but then that thing inside me and you doing what you were doing...It suddenly felt fantastic...What the hell did you use in me?''
Bodie reached for the nest of discarded tea towels piled at the end of the bed and retrieved a formidable looking object.
''Looks smaller than it felt'' said Doyle non-committally, trying to reconcile the thing in Bodie's hands with the sensations it had induced.
''I can get rid of it, if you like'' said Bodie ''Or we can go again. Battery operated see, for the insatiable bird about town.''
Title: Blackpool Rock
Author: (Me!) Fiorenza_a
Category: M/M - (and by the lights of AO3's rating system - (quite possibly improbably) - Explicit)
Archive at ProsLib/Circuit: Yes - Anywhere you like really.
Author's Name for Archiving: Fiorenza_a
Disclaimer: Not convinced of the utility of disclaimers, but as BSL rightly points out, it's only polite to acknowledge your debts, so I'm happy to declare that this is a devotional work of fan fiction, based on the characters created by Brian Clemens, without any desire to profit from them. Love not Lucre.
[Warnings: (click to open)]Bit of light domestic bondage and skirts non-con
Attributions:
Excerpt - Barbarella in the Excessive Machine
George Formby - With My Little Stick of Blackpool Rock
Prompts: Lads/shorts/summer
Length: (Oo er missus) - Just under 6.5k words
As ever - if you spot a typo or errant bit of text - do let me know - concrit welcome too - but not of the peerless George Formby!:0)
And Mods - If I've messed up posting in any way - just let me know and I'll give it another go.
Wincing from his headache, Doyle looked up from filling the kettle to peer incredulously through the kitchen window. Slowly his face creased into a grin.
Bodie was lying face down on the grass under the shade of a tree, which was actually growing in the street, but whose large unpollarded canopy spread part way over Doyle's pocket handkerchief sized garden.
For some reason, Bodie never seemed to get saddled with maintaining ground floor accommodation. Bodie always claimed that this was in recognition of his natural superiority, although Doyle always suspected it had more to do with his partner's willingness to prostitute himself for advantage.
Doyle, it was accepted, held himself to higher standards. Neither of them mentioned the fact that, on the one occasion Doyle had attempted to sleep his way to better accommodation, he'd ended up in a mould ridden ice box, barely twenty yards from the gas works. Although, to give credit where it was due, its rat infested concrete yard hadn't needed much in the way of mowing.
But it wasn't Bodie's prone position which held Doyle's rapt attention. It was his partner's choice of clothing. Bodie had arrived at his flat in a tracksuit, helped himself to the last can of lager, wheedled Doyle into going out to fetch some more and disappeared into the garden.
Doyle had told himself that he needed milk anyway, bid his partner a cheerily caustic farewell and had returned not five minutes ago with both the shopping and a thumping great headache, which he blamed in equal parts on the suffocating mugginess of the day and the insufferable smugness of his partner.
Life on the beat had taught him several valuable lessons, not least of which was that it was never too hot for tea.
It had also taught him that there was a point on the thermometer above which the great British public abandoned all sense of reason and any level of lunacy could be expected.
It must have hit that point sometime on his round trip to the shops, because during his absence Bodie had divested himself of his tracksuit and now lay prostrated like a Hammer virgin before the Satanic altar of slaughter with his ivory skin exposed almost entirely to the skies.
Almost entirely, that is, except for the tiniest pair of shorts Doyle had ever seen. White, tight and a downright fright, they were barely less than transparent. He knew for a fact that his prudish partner had less revealing underwear. Not that Bodie always chose to wear it, but right now that was the least of Doyle's considerations.
Doyle put the kettle down and went out into the garden. Normally Bodie's pavlovian instincts would have had him pushing up on his arms, alert and salivating. Bodie had long ago learned to associate his partner with sustenance, although which of them had conditioned which was anybody's guess.
Bodie didn't stir, Doyle crouched down to examine the apparition in closer detail. An examination which revealed the true absurdity of the situation.
That Bodie didn't always choose to wear underwear was an omission Doyle put down to the myths of military tradition. He had no other explanation for such a deviation from character. Bodie was neither unsubtle enough, nor unattractive enough, to use it as bait. Besides, Doyle had seen his pulling pants.
But Bodie did prefer to exercise unfettered, which seemed only fitting in CI5's resident Adonis - and Bodie had arrived in a tracksuit. You didn't have to be a Detective Constable to put two and two together. The tiny, castration threatening garment had to be Doyle's.
Marvelling at the improbable act of contortion implied by the presence of the microscopic body covering, Doyle leaned forward and whispered in his partner's ear ''Needn't have bothered on my account, Sunshine.''
Bodie stirred lethargically and rolled over, the dark shadowing under the barely opaque material of his fly lending credence to Doyle's supposition ''Didn't'' said Bodie ''But you've got neighbours.''
''I've also got towels, why didn't you wrap one of them round yourself?'' suggested Doyle, adding for weight of authority ''Cowley does.''
''You been playing away on me, Doyle?''
''Not mine'' Doyle elaborated patiently ''His. Like he does in his office, when he's...you know...when he's - ''
'' - Kek-less'' supplied Bodie with an amused, sardonic tilt of his eyebrow.
''I think I've just gone off me supper'' Doyle muttered under his breath before demanding by way of escape ''How did you get into those things?''
Bodie mustered a cunningly lopsided leer and countered ''Wouldn't you rather see me get out of them?'' as he tugged ineffectually at the zip.
''You'd need surgery'' scoffed Doyle.
''What kind of incentive is that?'' complained Bodie.
''All you're going to get, mate'' said Doyle, rising to his feet ''I need a cuppa.''
''You're not normal'' grumbled Bodie as he subsided into Doyle's overgrown lawn.
''Lucky for you, then'' Doyle called back airily as he re-entered the kitchen ''Normal bloke wouldn't 'ave you.''
''You 'aven't 'ad me'' Bodie lifted his voice to protest peevishly.
''I thought we were worried about the neighbours?''
''More worried about me - ''
''Bodie!''
'' - metabolism'' finished Bodie with impish propriety.
Doyle reappeared with two hastily made mugs of tea ''I don't know why I put up with you.''
''Yes, you do'' said Bodie as Doyle handed him a mug ''I bet the neighbours do too, the amount of racket you make.''
Bodie grinned unrepentantly as Doyle's face flushed rosily with colour ''Don't'' protested Doyle with maidenly demureness.
''I love it when you go all virginal on me, Doyle.''
''Been a while since I was that'' observed Doyle, making a stab at reclaiming his habitual cockiness.
Bodie grinned, announcing into his mug ''Count it to the day, Angelfish.''
''You caught me at a weak moment.''
''Seems to me, I've caught you at several weak moments'' Bodie recalled airily ''For instance, if memory serves, you were feeling quite weak on that obbo yesterday and this morning you were fair overcome with it.''
Undefeated, Doyle suggested with happy illogicality ''So that's what those are, a chastity belt. Worried I'm after your virtue.''
''Not much of it left'' reflected Bodie without concern ''Not sure I had much to begin with.''
''Certainly led me astray'' Doyle agreed.
''Mind?'' Bodie prompted with gentle sentimentality.
''You could have picked a day when I wasn't so sore'' grumbled Doyle with some feeling.
''You didn't complain at the time.''
''Like I said'' repeated Doyle ''Weak moment.''
''So, how come you'd never...you know...with a bloke?'' asked Bodie ''I mean, like we did?''
''Dunno, s'pose I'd never fancied it before.''
''So how come you fancied it with me?''
Doyle fixed his partner with a censoriously cynical glare.
''I'm not fishing'' protested Bodie ''Just can't figure how you missed doing it, if you like it that much.''
''Didn't know, did I?'' retorted Doyle with some vehemence ''How much opportunity d'you think I got?''
''Well you must have had some.''
''When?'' demanded Doyle.
''You weren't always a copper.''
''What makes you think coppers don't?'' asked Doyle irritably.
''Do they?''
''How the hell should I know?''
Bodie contemplated this for a few moments and then said uncertainly ''So, I really was your first? I don't mean for...I mean, at all?''
Doyle didn't answer immediately, instead looking around to take in the sky, the tree canopy, the buzzing of the insects, the brilliance of the sun, and finally, with a steady gaze, his partner.
''Doyle'' said Bodie very quietly ''Why d'you let me?''
''Really want to know?'' asked Doyle with bashful sincerity.
''Yeah, I think I would, Sunshine'' answered Bodie honestly.
''Wasn't sure how to stop you'' admitted Doyle.
''Ray...''
''No, hear me out, Bodie'' added Doyle hastily ''It wasn't the first time I'd taken a bit of a thumping, not even the worst time, but it got to me, not sure why it did, but it did. Like I said, Sunshine, weak moment.''
''Ray...''
''No, let me finish, Bodie. The way you were looking at me, I couldn't figure out if you were about to stand me a round, or finish the job yourself, only you didn't do either, you kissed me.''
''Seem to remember you kissed me back...''
''It seemed the safest thing to do.''
''Safest..?'' echoed Bodie blankly.
''Yeah'' said Doyle ''You have no idea how much that confused me, next thing I know, I'm in your bed doing things that confused me even more.''
''Thought you were enjoying it'' said Bodie miserably.
''I was'' said Doyle ''I just didn't understand why. Then you...well...I wasn't sure about that. I mean, come on Bodie, what bloke would be sure about that? Only I didn't want to come off as some kind of...Anyway, I just thought I should let you do it, get it over with.''
''Cheers'' said Bodie bleakly.
''Sorry, Bodie, but how was I supposed to know? I thought all blokes did it, I thought you'd think...then it felt like you were tearing me in two, but it felt like I wanted you to, must be how birds feel...you know...first time.''
''Not my birds'' rumbled Bodie ominously ''Haven't had one who hasn't for years, but I took care of 'em when I did.''
''You took care of me, Bodie. Honest. I'd just never done it before. Didn't know what I was doing...I mean, first kiss to first...in one night. Bit of a baptism, Sunshine.''
''Then why?'' pressed Bodie.
''Because somewhere between you kissing me, and you sticking your greasy great paws where the sun don't shine, I realised that I'd been confused for years...only, I'd always thought what I needed was a bird.''
''Sometimes it is.''
''Yeah, sometimes it is, and sometimes it isn't. I thought when I really liked a bloke, when I felt...Well, I thought it meant I was desperate, that I really needed a bird, that it was sending me funny.''
''I thought I was gay'' announced Bodie.
''What?''
''That's why I jacked in school. Fancied this teacher, only he was married, and I thought I must be turning gay. Knew what they did to gay blokes. Didn't fancy it much.''
''How can you turn gay?'' objected Doyle ''It's not like joining the bloody scouts.''
Bodie raised a salacious eyebrow.
''You're sick'' Doyle informed his partner curtly ''You know that, don't you?''
Bodie grinned, unabashed, conceding ''Don't worry, Sunshine, didn't last long. I discovered I still liked a bit of skirt, only I picked the wrong bird and had to jump ship. Then I discovered I wasn't the only one.''
''Only one, what?''
''Swung both ways'' clarified Bodie ''Some blokes kept it to themselves, some blokes did it 'cos they couldn't find a bird, but there were enough like me. Blokes who genuinely liked a bit of both, I mean, that I figured it had to be normal.''
''So while I'm crossing me legs and thinking I've gone round the twist, you're shagging anything old enough to follow you home?''
''Girls, yes. Blokes, no.''
''Eh?''
''Well girls is alright, isn't it? They only have to be sixteen. But you could still get done for a bloke and, even when it was okay, you had to be a hundred and six. It could've dropped off waiting'' reasoned Bodie ''So I just figured, if they weren't younger than me, it had to be alright.''
''Even in Africa?''
''Couldn't get me head round some of their rules'' Bodie replied decisively ''Stuck to the ones I knew.''
''What if I'd've been younger than you?''
''I'd've shagged Cowley'' said Bodie, managing to maintain an almost straight face.
Refusing to pander to such blatant provocation, Doyle looked pointedly at the straining bulge the conversation had induced under his partner's fly ''Just how were you planning to get out of those things?''
''Same way I got in'' said Bodie, affronted.
''Baby oil and a can opener?'' suggested Doyle innocently.
Bodie gave his partner a look of haughty disdain, squeezed three fingers of one hand under his waistband and began to tug pointedly at his zip with the other. It refused to budge, so he tugged harder, but the zip remained stubbornly in place. Bodie rolled to his side, curled up a little, trapping the fingers still under his waistband, and tugged again.
''Stuck?'' enquired Doyle helpfully.
Bodie raised a sourly scornful eyebrow and tried once more, to no avail.
Knowing his partner's stubbornness where matters of pride where concerned, Doyle quietly got up and went back into the kitchen. Bodie barely acknowledged his departure.
Doyle rummaged around in the kitchen drawer and retrieved a large carving knife and a knife sharpener, which he proceeded to wield with calm efficiency whilst listening to the increasingly frustrated grunts, and occasional swearword, emanating from the garden.
When Doyle considered both the knife and his partner had been sufficiently primed, he sauntered back into the garden, bearing the blade conspicuously before him.
Bodie halted the exertions which had bathed him in a gothically pearlescent sheen of perspiration long enough to demand ''What d'you think you're going to do with that?''
''Cut you free'' replied Doyle, enjoying every syllable.
''You're not coming anywhere near me with that thing!'' protested Bodie, sitting bolt upright, his voice detouring through some very unlikely high notes.
Doyle knelt beside his decidedly nervous patient ''Don't worry, Sunbeam. I'm very attached to your...attributes.''
''It's not you staying attached to them that's worrying me'' objected Bodie, askance.
Confident of his skill, Doyle touched the tip of the blade to Bodie's fly. Bodie immediately breathed in, trying to suck in his stomach, but the shorts were welded irretrievably to his heat swollen, sweat slick skin. From Doyle's perspective, however, the manoeuvre did have the advantage of preventing Bodie from speaking.
Taking his time, Doyle allowed the tip of the sharpened blade to part the cloth just under Bodie's waistband, adjacent to his fly. The threads broke apart with a tortuous series of dull little popping sounds, like canvas under strain. Bodie's concentration was absolute, a solitary bead of sweat traced the contours of his temple and ran down the side of his jaw, falling with it's own barely perceptible thud onto the drum tight fabric of the shorts.
Doyle looked up and smiled into anxiously straining blue eyes, Bodie nodded unconvincingly in reassurance, still refusing to release his breath.
Doyle continued to ease the blade point downwards, tracing the line, first of Bodie's fingers, still crushed beneath his waistband and numb from compromised circulation, and then along the contours of his impressive erection.
''Doing things for you, is it, Sunbeam?'' asked Doyle, allowing the flat of the blade to graze over the firmness under the fabric.
If, as the poets had it, Bodie's eyes were the mirror to his soul, then his soul was filled with mute desperation.
Doyle let the blade play for an instant more, then returned it to its inexorable path through the fabric of the shorts. He was aware of Bodie tensing as the blade came closer to the more malleable parts of his anatomy.
''Don't worry'' said Doyle, an unexpected impulse causing him to allow the point of the knife to nip at the flesh below ''I'm not planning to geld you.''
Bodie drew in a sharp breath through his nose, no mean feat considering the volume of air already trapped in his lungs, and spread his legs a little further apart.
Doyle hesitated ''You really are getting off on this, aren't you, Sunshine?''
Bodie's eyes held something indefinable.
''But do you like it?'' pondered Doyle.
Bodie's expression was inscrutable. Doyle did a rapid fire assessment of what he knew of his partner to date and put it together with what he'd seen of life thus far.
''No'' he finally concluded ''Something's got you begging for it, but you don't want it, do you? This isn't like it was for me, this is something else.''
Bodie eased his legs a fraction further apart.
''No'' insisted Doyle with certainty ''No deal, big boy.'' Then he turned the blade and neatly filleted the shorts from Bodie's body.
Bodie released his breath in a gush of air and retrieved the shredded piece of fabric to cover his modesty.
''How d'you know?'' he asked, years of training leaving him barely more breathless than Doyle.
''Know you, don't I, Sunshine?'' said Doyle, lifting his partner's hand to reveal Bodie's groin ''This thing gets ideas you don't, and some day we're gonna talk about why. But not right now, right now is for something else.''
Then he took off his jacket and lowered his head to lap at Bodie's unsubtle erection with the tip of his tongue.
Bodie bucked a little ''Doyle...''
''Not overlooked, Bodie'' reminded Doyle between playful wet licks ''Neighbours can hear us, but they can't see us. Wall's nice and high, not on a bus route. Quiet and secluded.''
''Doyle...'' repeated Bodie weakly.
Doyle moved his attention to the nick he'd given Bodie's balls, cupping and soothing it with lips and tongue. His fingers continued to stroke and cajole Bodie's erection. Bodie surrendered and sank back into the grass ''You're killing me.''
''Not yet, Sunshine'' Doyle paused to assure his partner as he worked his mouth in all the ways he knew Bodie liked, but not sufficiently to bring him the relief of release.
Bodie groaned in misery ''You bastard, Doyle. I'm going to be limping for a week.''
Doyle's fingers worked their way under Bodie's balls and pushed towards the entrance above them. Bodie was too far gone to be of much help.
Bodie almost sobbed as Doyle pushed into him. Bodie's body was running with sweat and an inferno inside. Doyle lifted his head to swallow his partner as, simultaneously, he skilfully and unceremoniously rammed his fingers towards their goal. Bodie instantly bucked into Doyle's mouth and Doyle gagged and gulped against him. Bodie thrashed and moaned, lost in sensation until Doyle lifted his head away and pressed his fingers against the sweet spot he'd found inside the writhing body. Bodie tensed and finally came.
Doyle pulled his fingers out as Bodie spilled himself, knowing Bodie liked the sensation, though it was one which did little for Doyle who preferred to have his partner ride it out inside him.
Doyle hauled himself to his feet but Bodie remained a satiated heap on the ground. Their abandoned tea mugs had spilled their dregs into the lawn and lay like drunken sparrows between the blades of grass. Doyle ignored them, leaving everything, including his partner, where it was and took himself into the flat to scrub his hands. There were still some parts of his new found sexuality that he'd never quite got his head around.
Doyle always performed this ritual in the bathroom and, having cleansed himself to his satisfaction, methodically stripped himself of the rest of his clothing and turned on the shower. The water was tepid, cooling his heated skin and dampening the arousal he had been assiduously denying. He allowed the water to run over his hair, easing his rapidly fading headache, but didn't wash it. Then he shut off the shower, gave his dripping hair a cursory rub over with the towel and padded, glistening and barefoot, into the bedroom.
He laid himself down on the bed to stare at the ceiling and let the evaporating water cool him further. Pleased when he felt the temporary puckering of gooseflesh on his skin. Moments later he heard Bodie shuffling in from the garden. Heard the rattle and clink as Bodie deposited the knife and mugs in the sink and the muffled mechanics of the peddle bin operate as Bodie disposed of the ruined shorts.
Then he heard Bodie make his way to the bathroom, heard the hollow thrumming of the shower, the disrupted rhythms of the water as it pelted over his partner's skin. Then the shower was turned off, followed by an almost silent pause while Bodie towelled the worst of the wetness dry and then Bodie was in the doorway to the bedroom.
''You've left your clothes all over the bathroom floor'' observed Bodie.
''It's my bathroom'' said Doyle, arms folded behind his head.
''Your bed, too'' said Bodie.
''Wanna share?'' asked Doyle.
''Wanna turn over?'' asked Bodie, clambering onto the bed.
Doyle grinned ''Gonna take me roughly from behind?''
''I'm bloody knackered, Doyle.''
''Use your imagination'' replied Doyle impishly, wriggling himself onto his stomach.
''Up for anything?'' asked Bodie.
''Within reason, we both still have to work'' agreed Doyle.
''You might have thought of that before you tied me balls in a knot'' grumbled Bodie.
''You'll live'' pronounced Doyle dismissively and then yelped as a stinging slap assaulted his exposed rump.
Honour satisfied, Bodie got up and disappeared from the bedroom. Doyle heard some rummaging about in his kitchen and then Bodie was back.
''Gonna bugger me with a rolling pin?'' asked Doyle, confident in the knowledge that he didn't currently own one.
Bodie didn't respond, instead he held up a tea towel and spun the corners like a skipping rope until it had twisted itself into a cord, then he reached for Doyle's arm, repeating the procedure with a second tea towel to tie each of Doyle's wrists to the slats in Doyle's old fashioned headboard.
''Kinky'' observed Doyle as Bodie tied a third tea towel over his eyes.
Bodie still didn't speak, silently capturing Doyle's ankles and tying them in similar fashion to the board at the bottom of the bed. Thus spreadeagled, Doyle tested his bonds, smiling as he assured himself that they were well within his ability to escape.
Bodie continued the silent routine, which was doing wonders for Doyle's neglected arousal.
Then Doyle was aware of Bodie leaning over him and parting his abused buttocks as something was delicately drizzled onto him.
''That better not be the extra virgin, mate'' he announced into his darkness.
For which impudence he received another stinging slap.
The few drops of oil ran along the channel between his buttocks, delicately teasing the exposed entrance they protected and following the contours of his body to lose themselves between his legs. The heated, air dried skin absorbing them easily.
Bodie played the game again and again. A bare few drops at a time allowed to tickle their way along the vulnerable path.
Doyle began to squirm as the constant sensation of too little, too often became unbearable.
He tried to disrupt Bodie's steady metronome of torture, but Bodie held him firmly open and pinned to the bed. The oil bottle obviously clamped between the mute lips. Bucking continuously as Bodie drove him slowly out of his mind, Doyle consoled himself with the comfort that Bodie must have an aching jaw by now.
Finally, when he was near to weeping with frustration, the steady drips ceased. Doyle buried his head in the pillow, almost trembling with relief.
A few short moments of respite then a warm tongue suddenly applied itself to the lubricated entry point. Doyle gasped his shock as Bodie's firm tongue sought to pleasure and prepare him.
He knew his body was gaping, hungry for the assault, when he felt something pressed against him. Something almost familiar, but not quite. Not quite Bodie. Blindly, he raised his head, trying to make sense of what his body was telling him. Realising as the not-quite-Bodie pushed into him that the angles were off. Bodie couldn't possibly reach him from the position in which his instincts were telling him Bodie was placed.
Then another sensation, something almost buzzing inside him and he realised what Bodie was doing. What the intruder was. He'd never considered using a mechanical substitute, so it wasn't his. It must be Bodie's. Bodie must have intended this for him all along.
The feeling of having something unknown and alien forced inside him was almost as bewildering as that first night with Bodie. And as with that first night, he put his trust in his partner.
It was harder than Bodie, less forgiving. Not flesh within flesh. He could feel it in ways he couldn't normally feel Bodie. And it was alive inside him. Moving in unnatural, impossible rhythms.
Instinctively, he pulled on his bonds. When Bodie had first done this to him, when it had been Bodie moving inside him, he had used his own hands on himself. The need for control had become ingrained, automatic.
He felt Bodie lean in close and then a gentle whisper in his ear ''Not today, Sunshine. You're not shutting me out today.''
Unnerved and barely still coherent he felt Bodie's hands reach between his legs. Holding him as he held himself, using techniques Bodie must have watched and absorbed uncountable times since he'd allowed him that first violation.
As Bodie violated him now, controlling the thing inside him. Controlling, with strong hands and a wicked suckling tongue, the way he responded to it. And for the first time in his life, he knew he was going to come in another man's hands.
When he did, when he drew up against the unknown thing Bodie had put inside him, left inside him, and knew he couldn't stop himself, that it would be Bodie's hands around him in this final moment of vulnerability, he suddenly felt inexplicably liberated.
And amidst that flare of unexpected liberation, another more familiar, as his body eradicated even that visceral emotion in favour of something more primal.
Bodie held him while the pulses left him, spilling over a hand not his own. Let him settle before easing the alien invader from his body, then gently released him from his bonds.
''You alright, Sunshine?'' Bodie asked him.
''Have I really been shutting you out?'' Doyle asked in return.
''Yeah'' said Bodie ''It's like there's this invisible line you won't let me cross, a piece of you, you won't let me have. Which, when you think about what you will let me have, doesn't make much sense.''
''Yeah'' said Doyle ''But you caught me on the 'op with that.''
Bodie stared steadily into his partner's eyes and suddenly a lot of things fell into place.
''Oh, I get it'' said Doyle ''It worked once, so you thought you'd try it again?''
''And has it?'' asked Bodie.
''Yeah'' said Doyle ''Think it has. That bit, having you hold me, it felt all wrong, felt like I couldn't let go, but then that thing inside me and you doing what you were doing...It suddenly felt fantastic...What the hell did you use in me?''
Bodie reached for the nest of discarded tea towels piled at the end of the bed and retrieved a formidable looking object.
''Looks smaller than it felt'' said Doyle non-committally, trying to reconcile the thing in Bodie's hands with the sensations it had induced.
''I can get rid of it, if you like'' said Bodie ''Or we can go again. Battery operated see, for the insatiable bird about town.''
Title: Blackpool Rock
Author: (Me!) Fiorenza_a
Category: M/M - (and by the lights of AO3's rating system - (quite possibly improbably) - Explicit)
Archive at ProsLib/Circuit: Yes - Anywhere you like really.
Author's Name for Archiving: Fiorenza_a
Disclaimer: Not convinced of the utility of disclaimers, but as BSL rightly points out, it's only polite to acknowledge your debts, so I'm happy to declare that this is a devotional work of fan fiction, based on the characters created by Brian Clemens, without any desire to profit from them. Love not Lucre.
[Warnings: (click to open)]Bit of light domestic bondage and skirts non-con
Attributions:
Excerpt - Barbarella in the Excessive Machine
George Formby - With My Little Stick of Blackpool Rock
Prompts: Lads/shorts/summer
Length: (Oo er missus) - Just under 6.5k words
As ever - if you spot a typo or errant bit of text - do let me know - concrit welcome too - but not of the peerless George Formby!:0)
And Mods - If I've messed up posting in any way - just let me know and I'll give it another go.