Happy Holidays!

Bodie shifted position again, trousers uncomfortably tight across his half-erect cock. Trying to appear cool, he stood and moved to collect his weapon but the illusion of nonchalance was shattered with a crash as Doyle's gun and holster clattered to the ground in his wake.

"Just shot your foot off," Doyle said with a smirk.

Bodie gave him a dirty look. Smug bastard. It was Doyle's fault he was in this uncomfortable position in the first place, his mind more on his blood-engorged cock than on their sparring session with Barry Martin. Lucky thing it hadn't been a real fight, or they would've been in real trouble. Unless, of course, the villains had been queer--in which case the persistent bulge in his trousers might have distracted them, he thought wryly.

They strode outside, he and Doyle teaming against Martin and chasing the older man across the road to Doyle's Escort. Bodie's mind wasn't focused on their scuffle, but rather on the fervent wish that he'd worn anything but his bumfreezer. He couldn't shake the notion that everyone was staring at him.

He should have known something was amiss last night when Doyle greeted him at the door with one of his patented sexy smiles and a large scotch. A randy Doyle was something he could deal with, but a scheming randy Doyle...

"Rough obbo?" Doyle asked sympathetically, waiting until Bodie had slipped out of his jacket and holster before handing over the glass.

Bodie swallowed the amber liquid in one gulp, barely registering the fiery trail it blazed down his throat and into his gut. "Yeh, twelve hours in a small room with Anson and his evil-smelling cigars. Not my idea of a good time. How'd you manage to get the day off? Offerin' Cowley special favours?" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at his lover, who merely chuckled and moved closer until he had crowded Bodie up against the closed door.

The alcoholic warmth that suffused his body began to concentrate in his groin as the bulge of Doyle's erection was pressed against his hip. Doyle's lips touched his, tenderly at first and then with increasing passion, his slender fingers making quick work of Bodie's shirt buttons before starting on his trousers. The light touch against his stomach sent shivers through him, and the fabric slipped down to pool around his ankles, quickly joined by his y-fronts. Doyle dropped to kneel on the floor at Bodie's feet, palms caressing down his belly, thumbs trailing along the curve of his hipbones to stroke his inner thighs. Green eyes gazed up at him through a fringe of lashes as Doyle planted a soft kiss on the head of Bodie's cock.

"Got a pressie for you," Doyle said, his expression mischievous.

Bodie ran his fingers through Doyle's hair. "I'll take that sort of present any day, sunshine."

"You berk." Doyle grinned up at him. "Not this! A Christmas pressie. This," the tongue trailed along the underside of Bodie's erection, "you can have anytime."

"Anytime?" His most prized appendage was mock-threatened with a nip of Doyle's teeth. Bodie grinned smugly. "You wouldn't," he said with confidence.

The next moment he found himself inhaling sharply, an involuntary reaction as Doyle's warm wet mouth closed around his shaft and slid almost to its base. The empty glass slipped from his fingers, thick carpet cushioning its fall. He pressed his palms to the door to brace himself against Doyle's onslaught. The suction on his cock intensified and his knees went weak, a shudder coursing through him as Doyle brought him quickly, skillfully, to the brink of orgasm before stopping as suddenly as he'd started.

"Ray..." The word came out sounding somewhere between a plea and a threat.

"Not just yet, love. First you've got to open your pressie."

Bodie looked down at him incredulously. "You think I care about a bloody Christmas present right now? Christ, Ray, it's still six weeks 'til Christmas. Can't it wait?"

"No." A shake of Doyle's head further disarrayed the already-tousled curls.

Frustrated, horny, and eager to return to their previous activity, Bodie said the first thing that came to mind. "But I haven't got yours yet. I can't open my present if you're not opening yours."

Doyle shrugged. "Seems like I just unwrapped mine," he said with a grin, nodding towards Bodie. "Besides, I couldn't wait." He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small square package, gaily wrapped in green, red, and gold paper. Holding it up just out of reach, he said, "You've got to promise me you'll wear it tomorrow." He looked up at Bodie expectantly.

"Then can we finish what you started?" The box was the right size for jewellery. While he'd never been one for that sort of decoration, it wouldn't kill him to wear something Ray had bought him. Especially not for just one day.

"Yeh." Another mischievous grin.

Bodie was all too conscious of the absurdity of his position: half-exposed and vulnerable, leaning against the door like some kind of wanton, his erection bobbing ridiculously with each movement he made. "Well, then, give it here," he said, reaching for the package.

Doyle pulled it back. "Promise," he demanded.

"When've I ever said no to you, Raymond?" He saw Doyle's mouth begin to open, presumably to list all the times they'd disagreed over the years, and he continued quickly, "Not counting on the job." Doyle was still frowning. "All right, I promise."

This time the present was placed ceremoniously in his hands and Ray sat back on his heels, looking eager. Instead of immediately ripping into it, Bodie toed off his shoes and stepped out of the trousers and pants that were bunched at his ankles. Kicking them aside, he shrugged his shirt off and tossed it in the same general direction.

"Bein' starkers makes you feel more Christmaslike, does it?" Doyle asked with an evil grin.

"Sod off," Bodie said, though his tone was affectionate. He took the small package and headed for the sitting room, determined to make Doyle wait--if only briefly--for tying his balls in knots. Without looking, he knew that Doyle was trailing expectantly behind him.

Dropping onto the settee, he began to carefully peel the sellotape from the wrapping paper. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Doyle fidgeting and he struggled to keep his expression neutral. Slowly he opened the paper, setting the black box aside before folding and flattening the wrapping neatly. Judging that Doyle was ready to explode, he grinned and lifted the lid from the box.

Nestled in a bed of cotton was a black leather strap, half an inch wide and eight or nine inches long. A large metal snap joined the two ends to form a circle. Surprised, he looked up at Doyle, who was grinning.

"'s a cockring," Doyle said.

"Yeh, I know that." Bodie frowned. "You implying my stamina leaves something to be desired, sunshine? Casting aspersions on my virility?"

Doyle's eyes widened. "I didn't mean you to think...."

Bodie stared at him with the same expression he used when interrogating prisoners. After fifteen seconds of watching his normally voluble lover regard the carpet in abashed silence, Bodie took pity on him.

"I know you didn't." Doyle's head snapped up and Bodie smiled reassuringly. "Just giving you a hard time, aren't I?" He picked up the cockring and began to toy with it, testing the suppleness of the leather and the stiffness of the snap.

"You don't have to wear it." Doyle shrugged apologetically. "Just thought it'd be a bit kinky, knowing you were wearing it and thinking of me."

"Nah, I promised. But I'll let you in on a secret, shall I? I'm always thinking about you." Before Doyle could react to his statement, Bodie continued, "Seems to me you made a promise, too. The bedroom?"

Doyle nodded briefly and headed towards the bedroom. "You can open your other pressie in there," he said, grinning and pausing to spin in a circle with his arms wide to indicate that he was Bodie's other present.

Bodie quickly caught up with him and wrapped his arms around Doyle's waist, working at the button on his jeans as they walked and nearly tangling his legs up with Doyle's in the process.

"Enough." Ray laughed and threw him off. "On second thought, maybe I should do this myself. Be less dangerous!" He turned and pushed Bodie back towards the bed, then began wriggling out of his jeans.

When Doyle straightened up again, Bodie moved closer and slipped his hands under the hem of Doyle's tee-shirt, sliding it up as his palms caressed Doyle's chest, finally pulling the shirt over Doyle's head and tossing it heedlessly across the room.

Doyle stood before him naked, erect and beautiful, a silent invitation to ravishment. Well, Bodie had every intention of ravishing him to within an inch of his life. He held the cockring up and raised his eyebrow. At Doyle's nod, he dropped to one knee to wrap it around Doyle's cock and balls.

"Tomorrow, when I'm wearing this and thinking of you," he said as he snapped it closed, "I want you to be remembering how it feels and thinking of me thinking of you." He grinned and stood. "How's it feel? Too tight?"

"Nah, just right. C'mere." Doyle pulled Bodie into his arms.

Hours later, amid rumpled sheets that smelled musky with sweat and sex, a very satisfied Bodie held his lover cradled in his arms and drifted towards sleep. The ache in his arse was a testament to the staying power granted by the cockring. Almost too much staying power, he thought wryly. He'd promised Ray he'd wear it tomorrow. Lucky they weren't scheduled for an op, where the distraction might be a serious problem. Just a little sparring with Barry Martin; he could get through that.

Disclaimer: They don't belong to me. I'm just playing with them, and I'm not profiting from the game (except for the satisfaction of watching the lads do as I say). The original bits of this story are (c)1998 by Zoë Rayne. Please don't publish this in any fashion without my permission. Comments, criticisms and requests for future stories are more than welcome.