Well, it's still Wednesday somewhere, I'm sure. Also, those emails & comments I owe the world? I'll get to them tonight, promise.
Dear Brian Clemens,
Remember that TV Times Extra story you wrote? "Operation Impossible"? The one with this ending:
Cowley glanced at the sergeant. "Do you know" he said. "I think we may have found ourselves a good team there."
The sergeant frowned "Looked to me like they were ready to slug each other."
Cowley's eyes twinkled, "A lot of good marriages began that way."
All I can say is... "Great minds think alike":
From Fancy That by Miriam Heddy:
It was not the sound of the door that woke him, but the sense of a presence just inside the closed room. It was too dark to see anything, and Ray was quiet, but they'd worked together too long--long enough for Ray's presence not to startle him, just wake him on the edges, peripheral vision or something. Ray hadn't yet found his blind spot.
"Nothing." The bed dipped as Ray sat down on the edge of it. He could feel the radiant warmth of Ray's body close by and could imagine what he looked like even without seeing him, sleepy and tousled.
He said nothing more for a few minutes, just listening to Ray breathe, waiting to see if Ray would say something more. When he didn't, Bodie sighed deeply, worried and confused and still half-asleep. He glanced at the bedside clock and saw it was three in the morning.
Looking again in Ray's direction, he found his eyes had adjusted slightly, so that he could see the faint outline of Ray's body, could make out that he was naked.
"C'mere, Ray." He held out his arm and patted the mattress at his side, moving over to make room for him.
Ray slid under the sheet with him, pulling the duvet up to his hips, and Bodie reached out to pull him closer, not caring at that moment that he was naked as well, just wanting Ray close to him, wanting to do something, thinking about how much he'd hurt Ray for his own good, for both of their sakes. And overwhelming all of that was how good Ray felt beside him, in his bed, Ray's slighter body pressed up against him.
"Trust me, Bodie."
"I do," he answered, belying his words by tensing up.
"Trust me." And then he felt the softest, gentlest, most uncertain brush of Ray's mouth on his own, barely even a proper kiss. Then again, this time for a half-second longer. Then again, harder, a kiss, definitely, now, and he struggled to remind himself of how many different reasons he had for why this was a very, very bad idea, but they faltered under the weight of Raymond Doyle suddenly on top of him, braced up on his forearms and pressing down against him from belly to groin, legs wrapped against the outside of Bodie's own. He was instantly hard, aching with it, wondering if another kiss would bring him off, then finding that it wasn't enough as Ray kissed him again, this time with an open mouth, then again, still not enough, as Ray's tongue darted out and met his own, then again, the kiss getting hotter, longer, stealing his breath and his will before breaking off too soon.
The sound of them both breathing harshly, raggedly, filled the room before Ray spoke, still sounding winded, but gaining strength as he went on. "William Andrew Phillip Bodie." Bodie nearly laughed at how angry Ray sounded, rattling off the list of names as if they were a series of curses. "You couldn't find your way home on a sunny day with a map and a compass--"
But Ray continued, hardly taking a breath, "--and a pair of binoculars. Bisexual bloody Bodie. What is it about fucking anything that moves makes you so special? Gives you the fucking right to tell me not to push, does it?"
"How naive do you think I am? I'm three years older than you, you great bloody fool! I was dealing with real, live gay people when you were hacking away at plants and playing merc in the big bad jungle. And don't go giving me any shite fairy tales about tough-arsed mercs and their bloody macho Games, as I've heard 'em before told by better men than you."
Bodie didn't know what to say to that, so he stayed quiet, finding himself oddly turned on by this display of aggro, all the while feeling Ray's cock, hard against his own.
"And in case you were wondering, Bodiemate, I did not fancy you when we met. You were a berk then and you've been one, off an' on for six years. Mostly on. But, if you bothered to ask Cowley, and I think he'd tell you, my psych. profile suggests an extreme talent for dealing with berks--flexibility-- physical and mental--"
Bodie could see, now, Doyle's feral grin, teeth showing and lip curled back and he responded to it by thrusting his hips up against Ray's, interrupting Ray's train of thought for long enough to elicit a moan from both of them.
"Bastard, I'm not done yet, so don't fucking move another muscle or I'll go back to me room." The words were issued as a threat, not backed up by any physical force, but the intensity of Ray's voice stilled him instantly, making his cock harder. "Good. Where was I?"
"Flexible. You're flexible." Bodie chanced it, part of him hoping Ray would respond.
Ray sighed, relaxing slightly, letting more of his weight fall to rest on Bodie. Bodie let him settle comfortably on top of him, holding himself still, waiting for Ray to make a move whilst frantically trying to figure out what to do. The intelligent thing to do would be to stop this before it went too far to stop.
"Oi, Bodie?" Ray's voice was a whisper directly in his ear.
"Yeah?" he whispered back, still panicking.
"You like blokes, right?"
"Yeah. I do."
"All the same to you, are they?"
"Same, yeah. Lovely in their own way, aren't they?"
"So it won't matter if we do this, then. Just another body."
Bodie paused before answering, struggling to decide the right answer to that question. "Am I just another body, then? This an experiment?"
"Could be that. Could be something else." Ray was holding back, had been ever since Ann Holly. But Bodie wanted to point out that it was a bit late for all that. He'd already rejected him, hadn't he? Before Ray'd even gotten around to making an offer, he'd pulled back the bridge before he could come across willingly.
But he realised, now, that that had been his mistake. If it didn't matter, you had to act like it didn't matter. Let the bloke come across, if that's what he wanted. Should've told him from the start. Should've just said it sober, said he fancied Ray's body, liked him well enough, maybe even loved him in a matey way, because he knew Ray'd would accept that. Could've laid him quick and let that be the last of it. But no, oh no, he'd let on that this mattered, hadn't he? Let it become some sort of game after all, led Ray on by not leading Ray on. His brain hurt to working itself around that bit of illogic, double-think--no, triple-think, at least, and Ray'd beat him at it.
The question was, did Ray know how much trouble they were in? He put his arms around Ray, forcing him to lie down wholly against him, so that Ray's head rested on his shoulder. He held Ray him close with more force than he needed to, as if Ray was struggling, which he was not, or might struggle, which again, Bodie thought, he would not. "This could hurt."
"I know that. Read up on it, didn't I?" Ray mumbled into his shoulder.
Bodie shook his head. "No. This could hurt me. And if I hurt, love, then you hurt."
"Partners, mate. That's how it is."
"No." Bodie reached down and cupped Ray's chin, forcing him to look up at him, making sure that Ray got this, because it was important. "No. I'm not talking about sympathy or empathy, here. Not talking about partners. I'm talking about revenge. You hurt me, I'll hurt you back. I'll make you suffer. I might even kill you."
"Just so you know. Even Cowley won't be able to stop me. It'll be the last thing I do."
Ray nodded, expression all shadows and softened angles in the dark room. "Big, tough Bodie."
"Don't fuck with me, is all I'm saying, Doyle. Tough? Maybe not, but I'm big enough to hurt you and you're not fast enough any longer to get away." Doyle was slowing down. They both were, finally, in a lot of ways. The last annuals had proved that, but Doyle was still quick and strong enough to be a threat.
"Oh, but I want to fuck with you, don't I?" Ray wiggled against him, thrusting his pelvis forward so that Bodie was pressed into the mattress, all the air rushing out of him as the pleasure rushed up his body, spreading outward from his groin to his fingertips, which flexed against Ray's back, nails digging into soft skin.
"You don't. You--"
"I like pain, don't I? Beautiful when I'm hurting, aren't I? It makes you go all soft inside, doesn't it? I saw you watching me after Ann-- the way you turn on when I get dropped by a bird."
"Bloody hell! That's sick, that is." But Bodie felt his fear receding, being replaced by a dark amusement that made him smile.
"Sick? We're a matched set, then. Big, tough merc with sadistic tendencies that you are--"
"I'm a narcissist, not a sadist," he interrupted. "Ask Ross. I couldn't love you enough, Doyle. I'll always come first." But as he said it, he knew it was a lie, knew that Doyle knew it too.
Ray shrugged and laughed softly. "Ah, but suffering's what martyrs do best."
"You're not a martyr, Raymond."
"Nah. You're a satyr."
"Mmm. That's nice." But Ray wasn't responding to his compliments or insults anymore. And Bodie had run out of words, too wrapped up in the heat spreading through him. He gave up on talking, giving up on fighting, too, and began to arch his back, forcing Ray to respond by pressing down to keep his balance. They were always better at this kind of negotiation anyway.
Ray moaned softly, and Bodie lifted his legs up, letting Ray settle between them, surrendering even whilst he was absolutely sure that neither of them had really won.
He grabbed for the lube under the bed, feeling around with his free hand, glad Ray wasn't heavy enough to pin him down easily. He placed it in Ray's hand and Ray's eyes widened with his smile, looking for all the world like a cat caught in the headlights, right before you ran it down. Then he closed his eyes, concentrating only on the feel of Ray's fingers inside him, preparing him gently and efficiently.
They set about their task quietly, as with any dangerous op, signalling to each other silently, trusting in that awareness of each other that was sometimes too keen and sharp for comfort. But now it served them, and Bodie relished not talking, not thinking, not arguing. There would be time enough for that later.
Even as he came, with Ray's cock buried deep inside him, he knew that Ray would find a way to have the last word.
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