The Professionals Anonymous Pornfest

[m31andy]

Way, way back last year we ran an Anonymous Pornfest for Life on Mars over at fiandyfic. It was great fun, generated a shedload of fic and encouraged at least two new writers (that I know of) to start posting their own fic at the lifein1973 comm.

Which is all brilliant. And the time is nearly upon us to do another one.

This isn't it.

I thought to myself: 'Well, if we had so much fun with LoM, how about doing on for The Professionals fandom?' and several of you agreed.

So this is it. Enjoy, have fun, and I'll call a halt to the festivities in a few weeks, or when no-one posts any more. All you have to do is anonymously request a fic or anonymously reply to a request with fic. Multiple submissions are encouraged for any request. Don't worry if your favourite prompt has already been answered. The more fic, the merrier!

If you want an example of how we play, last year's Life on Mars Anonymous Pornfest is here. As in the example, I'll be collating responses as we go along.

THE RULES

@ Anonymously post a request for a fic you've always wanted to read about, but were too shy to ask for/write it yourself.

@ Others will anonymously reply to your request with a story. The story can be any length. Size doesn't matter. (No, really!)

@ You can write as many stories as you like. If someone has already written a story for a request, you can still write one too! The requester is hardly going to mind. ;)

@ You can make as many requests as you like, but the rule of thumb is to fulfill a request for each one you make yourself. But it's OK to just request too. We just don't want the meme to stagnate!

@ Do keep in mind that ALL POSTING MUST BE ANONYMOUS, this includes feedback. Any non-anonymous posts will be deleted. There will be no exceptions to this rule. If you want to draw attention to anything, either PM, email or comment on another entry with your request.

@ This is a sex-meme, which means we're generally expecting you to request something sex-related. It doesn't necessarily have to be sexual, but it does have to be something more than just a pairing. Details = love.

@ Play nice! Personal attacks will be deleted, as will non-constructive criticism (aka flaming). There's a risk of trolling with anything allowing people to post anonymously, so please, please DO NOT FEED THE TROLLS. Ignore the requests you don't like. Make one you do like instead. ;)

@ Finally, it would be useful if you could title your comments either "Request", "Fic" or "Feedback" so it's easier for those of us who just want to read the ensuing hot smut. ;)

@ Even more finally, have fun!!!

HOW TO POST ANONYMOUSLY:

- Don't worry about logging out.
- Just click 'post comment' or 'reply to this post', and select 'more options'.
- Select to post anonymously.
- Tada! That should work.

The Responses

- Rentboy!Doyle, handcuffs and a secret assignation.

- Bodie/Murphy, use of climbing ropes
Response 1: Untitled

- Bodie/Doyle, Doyle dressed in horse riding gear (boots and crop must be included)
Response 1 - Praise and Punishment: Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four


- Cowley masturbating to the image/picture/fantasy of Bodie in a kilt.
Response 1 - The Major and His Man: Part One, Part Two


- unexpected threesome after a mission: Bodie/Doyle/Murphy; car bonnet; mutual hand jobs a plus!

- Bodie/Doyle, My Fair Lady

- Cowley being 'helpful' and wanking Bodie off at the office, Doyle spying on them and getting himself off.
Response 1 - Watching: Part One, Part Two


- Bodie/Doyle: Aliens Made them Do it! (Will Cowley ever believe THAT?)
Response 1 - A Foreign Tongue: Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven (Warning – AU)


- Bodie/Doyle, Bodie in makeup and women's underwear

- Bodie/Doyle, leather jacket. Bonus points if in a public setting.

- Cowley and Elizabeth Walsh, entirely up to the writer because I think this pairing's too rarely sighted. It needn't even be anything very explicit. *g*

- Doyle undercover as submissive rentboy, jealous Bodie has to watch/listen. Eventually B/D have rough cons sex, pref with a touch of bondage - D, not B!

- Bodie undercover as a rentboy in a very high-end club (tux!!!!), Cowley posing as his 'john' (as himself! oh his reputation!) and jealous!Doyle as club security...eventually pulling Bodie aside to teach him a lesson.

- Doyle drugged and willing, Bodie taking advantage
Response 1 – Stoned: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4


- Bodie/dildo.

- Bodie/Doyle, arriving home in the dark, "unknown" intruder with sex in the plans.

- A new agent has joined the ranks of CI5 and is openly flirting with Bodie. He's young, muscular, very good-looking and ex-Army. Doyle gets jealous and takes steps to make Bodie his.

- Doyle's undercover as a teacher. Bodie's underneath his desk.

- Bodie/Doyle. Bondage without sadism ie leather and chains but no pain inflicted

- Bodie/Doyle. Getting sweaty at the gym.

- Ray goes to get a clean t-shirt out of Bodie's drawer. He finds a freshly-washed and folded pink tutu with tights and ballet pumps - in Bodie's size!

- Murphy and Bodie on a climbing op- on a roof? Bodie is excited by the thrill of the difficult task and that plays visible tricks with his body... Murphy knows a cure high up there.

- Bodie/Doyle, camouflage fatigues, roughing it on exercises a plus.

- Bodie/Doyle. Doyle as cabana boy--with sunscreen.
Response 1: Sun King
Response 2: Whiter Shade of Pale (sequel to Sun King, above)

- Doyle/Stuart, preferably with jealous!Bodie, esp. if it can end B/D or even B/D/S.
 

Comments

[(Anonymous)]

Rentboy!Doyle, handcuffs and a secret assignation.

[(Anonymous)]

Bodie/Murphy, use of climbing ropes

Fic: Payback

[(Anonymous)]

(Post Foxhole on the Roof.)

When the day of reckoning comes they stumble into the unguarded storeroom, all draping limbs and schoolboy laughter as they suck in shallow mouthfuls of stale three-o-clock afternoon air. He thinks he should mind, really, he should, that there is a fresh stack of paperwork on his desk, and Doyle will have his head if he doesn’t get his part done on time. But Murphy’s hand is on the small of his back, lips ghosting across his shoulder and under his ear, and Murphy’s breath is warm.

Christ, Murph, what - ?

Bodie thinks no says yes, presses his cheek against the cool surface of a metal cupboard because it is conveniently there. His hands are tied behind his back, at his wrists, the rope thick and rough, chafing, and Murphy has three fingers inside him. Two more fingers and a thumb drift up to play with his nipple, deft through a layer of loose-weave cotton, and when they pinch he arches his back, thrusts his hips out, shudders, breath a distorted O of damp on green-painted steel. (It looks vaguely like a map-shaped Australia.)

When Murphy finally enters it is both splitting and smooth and it makes him cry out, uh uh uhn so fast it comes out an unbroken moan. He feels stretched and naked and exposed, when in reality he still has his shirt across his shoulders and his trousers are caught in a tangle about his knees. Then he is coming, coming, Murphy’s thumb on his slit and Murphy’s mouth on the fleshy joint between neck and shoulder, biting.

Fifteen minutes past three finds them slumped against an empty wall and sprawled on a rough concrete floor, breath raking over too-dry throats in hoarse pants and flies still quite undone. There are fingerprints dusting Bodie’s hipbones, imperfectly-formed red oval marks which will fade to a pale yellow-green as the week progresses. For now, however, Murphy rubs a rueful thumb across them, corners of his lips quirked in a mischievous grin, and Bodie feels quite obliged to ask just What the heck is going on, pulling a stunt like that, you daft bugger, Christ.

Paying you back for that chimney, mate, the other man says, eyes half-shut and seemingly quite unconcerned. Then, seeing Bodie begin to stir, asks,

Again?

[(Anonymous)]

Bodie/Doyle, Doyle dressed in horse riding gear (boots and crop must be included)

Fic: Praise and Punishment (Part One)

[(Anonymous)]

He clutched the ends of the leather ties that were wrapped around his wrists and held them tightly. Eyes closed, he waited.

As if he had another choice.

Fuck, but he needed this. Needed to be free of decisions, of life and death, of thinking. All he wanted to do was feel.

Now he would be granted the gift of having his wishes fulfilled. It wasn't often that he was allowed this release. Tonight was a treat. One that he could savour for months to come. One that he dreamt about for weeks. Finally, he was getting what he desperately needed.

He was going to take whatever his commander deemed necessary. He hoped it would take the man a long time to mete out his reward.

The leather bonds around his ankles held him firmly against the slightly slanted structure that had surely been hand crafted for a man's pleasure. His body moulded to the surface like it had been made especially for him. It cradled his torso comfortably, held his legs wide apart, and left his arse and cock accessible to his commander.

A wide leather strap around his waist kept him securely in place, and his head was held in position by more leather ties. He could see straight ahead, but moving his head to either side was impossible.

Jesus, he loved the smell of leather. It surrounded him, dark and fragrant. He breathed in deeply as his eyes slipped shut.

A slight sound snapped him to attention. Was it time? He tensed, his bare buttocks tightening involuntarily. A hand stroked his back, making his muscles quiver. He waited, every nerve alight with anticipation. The hand paused, patting his left cheek gently before it fell away. Ears straining to hear what he couldn't see, he waited.

He didn't have to wait very long.

His arse was breached by a large well-lubricated dildo. He bit down on the gag in his mouth as his body stretched to accommodate the intruder. When the tip bumped into his prostate, he gasped. His hands opened, fingers sprayed as the dildo was expertly wielded. Once, twice, three times his gland was massaged. He shuddered, his cock surged to full hardness in its leather sheath. His balls, captured in their own leather casing, drew up, more than willing to release their bounty already.

He hadn't been given permission to come, so he bit down harder on the mouth restraint, willing his body not to betray him.

After a few moments, he felt more in control. He opened his eyes. Blinking, he let out a deep moan when he saw his commander a few feet away. In full view now, his commander waited until he was fully focused. Hand on hip, curls wildly tumbling over his collar, the green eyes held his gaze firmly. His commander was dressed in rich brown from head to toe. A tailored jacket, buttoned to the neck and cut at the waist, accented his trim figure. The leather Jodhpurs, tight as second skin, coated his legs, showing off the commander's cock and balls in stark relief. And knee-high boots. Leather as well. With heels. As the commander walked back and forth, the heels clicked on the floor. Boots... Leather... Heels... Christ, he was going to come just from his thoughts.

As marvellous as his commander looked, it was the man held in his right hand that had him ready to cry with pleasure. Ready to beg. What he had been waiting for was within his grasp.

The riding crop that was held aloft was a dream come true.

[(Anonymous)]

Cowley masturbating to the image/picture/fantasy of Bodie in a kilt.

Fic: The Major and His Man. Part 1

[(Anonymous)]

Cowley had long ago come to terms with the fact that his beloved Highlands would remain a place to visit on holiday and would never be his permanent home again. Occasionally however, something would invoke a memory of that halcyon place: a whiff of heather, perhaps; an unexpected snowfall; a man wearing a kilt.

To be fair, it wasn’t just any man. It was Bodie. His man, Bodie. One half of his top team and the half that had given him more sleepless nights and erotic dreams since he’d started working at CI5 than any man had a right to.

And, of course, it wasn’t just any kilt. It was the Campbell tartan. The same Campbell tartan that wee Jamie Campbell used to wear on high days and holidays. And it was on one of those high days that an adolescent George had found out wee Jamie wasn’t so wee after all.

It didn’t matter to George why Bodie was wearing a kilt. Just the sight of the blues and greens interwoven with black thread and he was hard. Add it to strong calves encased in thick white woollen socks and he was desperately wishing he was anywhere else but his office.

He looked around and listened. The door to Betty’s outer office was closed and she’d gone home an hour previously. The clock showed it to be seven in the evening and most of his operatives had gone home by now.

Did he dare?

His lips were suddenly dry and he poured himself a slug of whisky to moisten them. Bodie had disappeared to do God-knew-what with that disreputable partner of his and some floozy somewhere would be getting the benefit of those strong muscular thighs beneath that sinful Campbell tartan. He groaned as he imagined running a hand up one of those muscular thighs and finding out if Bodie really was going Commando as the more ribald suggestions in the Staff Room had implied.

Pouring himself another drink, he limped across the room to turn the key in the door. Silently toasting his number one team on a job well done, he set down the empty glass and dropped gracefully into a more comfortable chair.

Cowley didn’t indulge himself very often, but now he had a new fantasy to work with: Bodie in a kilt. More specifically, Bodie in a kilt facing a wall waiting for Cowley to search him.

Bodie would place his hands on the wall at shoulder height and spread his legs the way Cowley would instruct him to. Not too wide - he didn’t want the lad to be uncomfortable – but wide enough to keep him off balance for a while. Cowley would start with running his hands over Bodie’s shirt on the pretext of searching him, grazing a nipple just to hear the sharp intake of breath that would ensue. The muscles would be so tense that they would feel rock hard beneath his fingertips.

Cowley unbuttoned his fly and pulled out his erection roughly. He stroked himself a couple of times, pulling the foreskin down and running his fingertips over the sensitive head, smearing the pre-ejaculate that was already gathered there. He put his fingers in his mouth one by one to taste himself and then licked his palm when he’d done, ready to grasp his cock again.

Where was he? Ah, yes. Bodie against the wall. Once he’d finished with Bodie’s top half, Cowley would drop to his knees and start at the ankles. (In his fantasies he was always more supple than in real life, but that was what fantasies were for, wasn’t it?) Bodie’s woollen socks would cover more hard muscle and sinew and would be folded over at the knee. Cowley’s hands would travel further up, underneath the kilt, skimming over hairy thighs and hairy buttocks.

He shifted in his chair, spreading his legs so he could fondle his testicles with his other hand. Tipping his head against the back of the chair, he was at the perfect angle to thrust into his hand, lazily at first and gathering momentum as the fantasy hotted up.

Request

[(Anonymous)]

unexpected threesome after a mission: Bodie/Doyle/Murphy; car bonnet; mutual hand jobs a plus!

Request

[(Anonymous)]

Bodie/Doyle, My Fair Lady

Request

[(Anonymous)]

Cowley being 'helpful' and wanking Bodie off at the office, Doyle spying on them and getting himself off.

Fic: Watching Part 1

[(Anonymous)]

“Sir, I really don’t think we ought to—”

“Och, nonsense, lad. You can’t do it yourself with your hands bandaged like that. It’s the least I can do.”

“Well, if you insist…”

“Aye, I do, Bodie.”

Doyle was intrigued. What was it that the Controller could do for Bodie that they couldn’t ask Doyle to do? He peered through the crack in the partially open door between Betty’s outer office and Cowley’s inner sanctum. Bodie stood with his back to the door and to Doyle, while Cowley seemed to be fiddling with the buttons on Bodie’s jacket.

Or Bodie’s trousers! Bloody hell! The Old Man had not only managed to undo the button of Mr. I-wear-my-trousers-so-tight-that-you-can-see-the-outline-of-my-cock-even-when-it’s-snoring Bodie, but he’d pushed them down to Bodie’s knees and was now doing the same to his y-fronts.

The decent thing to do, Doyle decided, would be to walk away and leave them to their private moment. He had no claim on Bodie – hadn’t he said often enough that they were both free to pursue other relationships? So, Bodie had a thing for older men – much older men by the look of it. So what? It was his life – his private life and if he wanted to —

Shit! Would you look at the wrist action on that!

Doyle turned around sharply. Had he said that out loud? Looking back into Cowley’s office he saw that the two occupants had shown no sign of alarm and in fact Bodie was making those lovely little whimpering noises he made when someone was pulling on his cock.

“Perhaps you’d be more comfortable leaning against the desk, Bodie.”

“Ye-yes, sir. I think I would.”

Bodie turned and perched his practically perfect arse on the edge of Cowley’s desk. Both men were now in profile and Doyle could see Bodie’s cock jutting proudly from the thatch of curls at his groin. The liquid pooling at the tip of the cock made Doyle’s mouth water and he ran a tongue over his lips, almost tasting Bodie as he did so.

Bodie put his bandaged hands on the desk either side of him and leaned back as Cowley grasped his cock again. Adept fingers curled around the base and began pumping; the thumb that swiped over the head every so often dragging groans from Bodie’s lips.

Doyle felt he really ought to be going. He ought to leave the office and the building and find a pub where he could drink a pint or two, chat up a barmaid and go home to sleep, ready to face work the next day.

Request

[(Anonymous)]

Bodie/Doyle: Aliens Made them Do it! (Will Cowley ever believe THAT?)

Fic: A Foreign Tongue, Part 1

[(Anonymous)]

For the request, "Bodie/Doyle: Aliens Made them Do it! (Will Cowley ever believe THAT?)"

Author's Note: I am a fan of the "Aliens Made Them Do It" genre, but only if the resulting story has some clever devices, and the "It" isn't cruel.

That being said, this story just had to be AU, of course. And having once taken the AU path, I found it made a sudden sharp left turn. To prove the turn was within the request's stated parameters, see dictionary dot com's definition...

ALIEN: [noun] a resident born in or belonging to another country, who has not acquired citizenship by naturalization; a foreigner. [definition from dictionary dot com]

Story Title: A Foreign Tongue

Bonny Billy Bodie of Ballinderry didn't know he'd been fighting the epochal Thirty Years War.

After all, by the winter of 1634, the battles already had been raging a great weary while. Only the mightiest of seers could perhaps predict, that the end of this madly destructive conflict was still two decades in Europe's future. Meantime, a whole generation of children had been born and haphazardly raised in the midst of chaos, had grown to precarious adulthood, never knowing the blessing of a world at peace.

Such an one was young Billy Bodie. Orphaned by the all-devouring war, now a teenager unsure of his actual age, he had achieved a man's sturdy stature in the harsh occupation of mercenary soldiering.

Without yet the need to shave, his alabaster complexion would have graced even a maiden's countenance. But Billy didn't perceive it, never having seen more than a vague reflection of his own soft dark hair, bright blue eyes and laughing countenance, whilst washing in a convenient pond or stream.

Bodie had no kindred to cherish him and say how very beautiful he was. For all he knew, the soubriquet "Bonny Billy" might be mere mockery.

Although, to date, he'd had no trouble bedding the choicest wenches or lads whose paths he'd crossed in his extensive wanderings on the Continent. This fact suggested to his agile mind that he was far from ill-favoured of face.

Serving as a chronicle of his travels, his ability to ask the essential question, "Darling, wilt thou lie abed a while with me?" encompassed many foreign tongues. Bonny Billy Bodie of Ballinderry could successfully proposition for sexual favours in English, Gaelic, French, Swedish, Finnish, German, Russian, Portuguese, Spanish, and Italian. Indeed, lately he'd been making serious progress in the Bohemian and southernmost Baltic tongues.

At this thought, young Bodie flashed a briefly bawdy grin in honour of numerous recent rolls in the proverbial hay.

Still it must be said, his singular talent had brought Billy into his current difficulty. For his captors assumed, based upon his prowess in communication, Bodie surely must be a linguist of the first order.

Well, in fact he was, but only upon the most limited of subject matter.

Request

[(Anonymous)]

Bodie/Doyle, Bodie in makeup and women's underwear

Feedback

[(Anonymous)]

Yes, please, SOMEBODY write this. *begs*

Request

[(Anonymous)]

Bodie/Doyle, leather jacket. Bonus points if in a public setting.

[(Anonymous)]

Cowley and Elizabeth Walsh, entirely up to the writer because I think this pairing's too rarely sighted. It needn't even be anything very explicit. *g*

[(Anonymous)]

Doyle undercover as submissive rentboy, jealous Bodie has to watch/listen. Eventually B/D have rough cons sex, pref with a touch of bondage - D, not B!

[(Anonymous)]

Bodie undercover as a rentboy in a very high-end club (tux!!!!), Cowley posing as his 'john' (as himself! oh his reputation!) and jealous!Doyle as club security...eventually pulling Bodie aside to teach him a lesson.

[(Anonymous)]

Doyle drugged and willing, Bodie taking advantage.

Fic: Stoned (Part 1)

[(Anonymous)]

It was late. Really late. If he’d had any sense, he’d have knocked off hours ago, but he’d had a tough day and was too wound up to mooch around at home, or to trawl through the Little Black Book for a willing conquest for the evening. In any case, he could never properly relax knowing that Doyle was out there somewhere, out of contact, undercover. Safe enough, probably, but you never knew in this game. He knew he shouldn’t, knew Doyle wouldn’t thank him for it, but he worried. Couldn’t help himself.

So he stayed, alone with the growing shadows, tapping out his daily report with two fingers, taking occasional sips of the outstanding malt he’d pinched from Cowley’s emergency stash. Enjoying the silence.

A silence shattered by the crash of the office door slamming into the wall. Bodie, startled by the unexpected intrusion, whipped round, hand moving instinctively to his holster even as reason told him the arrival had to be one of their own.

“Oh, it’s you.” He relaxed at the sight of his partner framed in the doorway, although his breath hitched slightly at the picture Doyle presented. Kitted out in black leather and blue jeans, hair tangled, at least a couple of days’ stubble growth darkening the contours of his face. He looked rough. In the best possible way.

Doyle moved closer, into the office, and Bodie caught an unexpected, unmistakeable aromatic scent wafting in with him. “Bloody hell, mate, you been smoking something?”

Doyle shrugged. “Couple of joints. Didn’t have much choice, really. Would’ve looked a bit funny, me being a dealer and all, if I’d been all anti-drugs.”

“Fair enough. How did it go?”

“What?”

“The op, you moron. You sure you just had a couple?”

Doyle giggled slightly. “Dunno. Lost count.” He reached Bodie, leaning in to peer at him with glazed interest. “What you still doing here, anyway? Past your bedtime, innit?” He giggled again, lost his balance slightly, and Bodie grabbed hold of his arms, pulling him to his feet and trying to guide him towards the sofa in the corner.

Somehow, Doyle managed to turn so that the pair were facing, winding his arms round Bodie’s waist to lock them into an awkward embrace. Their faces were close together now, startled blue eyes facing down hazy green ones.

“You know,” Doyle announced solemnly, voice soft and tobacco-roughened. “You’re a very beautiful man, Bodie. Anyone ever told you that?” There was a charged pause, as Bodie sternly reminded his body that this was just the dope talking – his body seemed stubbornly unwilling to concede the point, understandably given the number of times such a revelation, played out safely inside Bodie’s head, had provided the fuel for his fantasies – before Doyle collapsed against him, head thrown back, letting out a rich, unbelievably dirty, uncontrollable bellow of laughter.

Bodie allowed the instinctive surge of anger to break over him and die, responding instead with resigned tolerance.

“C’mon, Sunshine. Get yourself comfy over here. Then you can tell me all about it.”

This time, Doyle allowed himself to be steered towards the sofa, collapsing onto it with a relieved sigh, sprawling full-length and letting his eyes fall shut. His breathing slowed and deepened until Bodie assumed he had fallen asleep. He stood, riveted, gazing down at his partner, fists clenched against the powerful arousal brought on by the spectacle. Doyle should have appeared vulnerable, by rights, but he just looked – wanton, was the best description Bodie could come up with. He swallowed, hard.

“Fuck,” he whispered.

[(Anonymous)]

Bodie/dildo.

[(Anonymous)]

Bodie/Doyle, arriving home in the dark, "unknown" intruder with sex in the plans.

[(Anonymous)]

A new agent has joined the ranks of CI5 and is openly flirting with Bodie. He's young, muscular, very good-looking and ex-Army. Doyle gets jealous and takes steps to make Bodie his.

[(Anonymous)]

Doyle's undercover as a teacher. Bodie's underneath his desk.

Bodie/Doyle

[(Anonymous)]

Bondage without sadism ie leather and chains but no pain inflicted

[(Anonymous)]

Bodie/Doyle. Getting sweaty at the gym.

Request

[(Anonymous)]

Ray goes to get a clean t-shirt out of Bodie's drawer. He finds a freshly-washed and folded pink tutu with tights and ballet pumps - in Bodie's size!

Request

[(Anonymous)]

Murphy and Bodie on a climbing op- on a roof? Bodie is excited by the thrill of the difficult task and that plays visible tricks with his body... Murphy knows a cure high up there.

[(Anonymous)]

Bodie/Doyle, camouflage fatigues, roughing it on exercises a plus.

[(Anonymous)]

Bodie/Doyle. Doyle as cabana boy--with sunscreen.

Fic: Sun King

[(Anonymous)]

Doyle hauled himself out of the pool and wrapped a towel around his waist, padding towards the glass door of the bungalow.

"Oi," Bodie said from a lounge chair. "Get me a beer while you're inside?"

Doyle glared. "Do I look like your bloody cabana boy?"

"If I say yes, will you bring me one?"

Doyle returned with two cans of beer and small brown bottle. Bodie was already dozing, so Doyle woke him by pressing the cold can to the back of his neck. He yelped and swatted at Doyle before snatching the can away. He took a long pull and eyed the bottle skeptically. "Tanning oil?"

"Yeah. Should keep you from getting burnt."

"Thoughtful of you."

"No, it isn't. Last time you were unbearable for days after."

Bodie rolled his eyes. "For that comment, you can do my back."

Doyle settled onto the lounge chair, his knees on either side of Bodie's hips, and Bodie wiggled appreciatively. Then he yelped as the cold liquid drizzled an unerring path down his spine. Warm hands began to roam across his back, kneading at loosened muscles, and any lingering tensions evaporated under Doyle's touch.

His hands smoothed over Bodie's back, from the nape of his neck down to the curve of his hips, back and forth, even after the tanning oil had been rubbed in. One hand fell away, the other skating along the ridge of Bodie's spine. The careful touch was electric, and Bodie shivered.

"Turn over," Doyle said, his voice low.

Bodie rolled beneath him and found Doyle wearing nothing but sunglasses and sunshine. His swimming trunks were nowhere to be seen, only a tan line marking where they had clung to his hips.

Bodie let his eyes drop down and linger. "Why, Ray, what have you been up to?"

"What's it look like? Come on, get these off," he said, dipping a finger beneath Bodie's swimming trunks.

"What, here? You want to--"

"Yeah, I do."

"Hedge isn't that high, you know. Neighbors might have a trampoline."

"Then they deserve what they see, don't they?"

Bodie didn't stand a chance in the face of that blinding grin. Doyle pushed his sunglasses up into the tangle of his hair and sat back while Bodie slipped off the trunks. Doyle paused in frank admiration of the view before climbing back on top of him.

The tanning oil had warmed in his hands, slick and smelling of coconut. Doyle wrapped long fingers around Bodie's cock, sliding the oil up and down the shaft. He leaned forward, pressing his lips against Bodie's. "Want you," he breathed.

"Yeah. Yeah, okay, let me--" Bodie reached for the tanning oil, but Doyle caught his hand.

"I'm ready."

Bodie gaped as he realized what had been going on behind his back. "You have been busy."

Doyle favored him with another sharp grin, then rose up on his knees and sank down carefully, his head falling back as Bodie ran broad palms up his chest to tweak tanned nipples. He felt suspended for a long moment, with the sun warm on his back and Bodie warm beneath him and inside him. Then he rocked up again and Bodie's cock brushed against the spot that made Doyle forget everything, the neighbors and the sun and the two rapidly warming beers on the table beside them. Everything but Bodie. His hands splayed across Bodie's ribcage as he moved, the muscles of his lean thighs tensing and trembling.

Bodie must have got hold of the tanning oil at last, because his palm was slick when he took Doyle in hand, the lack of friction drawing him to the edge without pushing him over.

"Come on, Ray," he gasped thrusting up against him, "don't want to leave you behind."

"Right with you, sunshine."

The late sun shone behind Doyle's head, turning his curls to a wild halo and casting his eyes into shadow. For a moment he looked unearthly and wanton, and Bodie clutched at Doyle's hip as he came, biting down on a curse. His other hand stroked sharply, his rhythm lost, and Doyle didn't bother to muffle his own shout as he followed, pulsing in Bodie's hand.


Sated and sprawled on a lounge chair too small to hold the both of them, Doyle draped one arm over Bodie, his hand pressed against the small of his back. They'd both get sunburnt if they stayed out here much longer, but surely just a few moments' rest wouldn't hurt...

Request

[(Anonymous)]

Doyle/Stuart, preferably with jealous!Bodie, esp. if it can end B/D or even B/D/S.