Discovered in the Wrapping Paper - Day 12 - The Breaking Point by Liz Bradford

[byslantedlight.livejournal.com]

The Breaking Point
Liz Bradford

"He's a cold bastard."

"Yeah. I know what you mean."

"If it was my partner, I'd be climbing the walls by now."

"Right. There's got to be something wrong with him. I'm surprised he's still on the squad." The quiet voice stopped in contemplation, then carried on, "I mean, you'd think the shrinks would have spotted it by now, wouldn't you?"

"They probably have but it's still down to George Cowley, isn't it? Maybe it just goes to show what he's prepared to accept on 'his' A team."

The two young men became silent as they continued their observation of the relaxed figure slouched in an armchair, reading a book, mug in hand.

"That's enough from you two." The harsh whisper, just a couple of inches from their ears, startled them both badly as, concentrating all their attention upon the object of their discussion, they had missed the arrival of their mentor.

Murphy stared down at the two trainee agents, the unamused expression on his face leaving no doubt as to his thoughts on their behaviour. With a swift glance across the rest room to make sure that they were not being watched, he lowered his head once more.

"One very strong piece of advice which will not be repeated - wait until you've been partnered for a couple of years before you start to pronounce judgement on other teams. And even then be prepared to lose extremities." Straightening, he watched as the two men first blinked at each other and then at him, then nodded to emphasise his point. "Okay?"

They nodded back.

That should take care of those two for the moment, he thought as he left them and crossed the room to pour himself a mug of coffee. Adding sugar, he frowned as he looked at the man who had, unknowingly, caused the latest little lesson for the two new members of the squad. Sprawled in his chair, Ray Doyle appeared to be engrossed in his paperback, totally relaxed and at peace, and Murphy could appreciate why Peters and Lambert had jumped to their less than complimentary conclusions. Still, it had made for a useful lesson in voicing that kind of opinion.

Although the new men had only joined the squad two weeks earlier, they had trained alongside Bodie and Doyle on a couple of the larger exercises and had seen that particular partnership in some of its many flamboyant guises, from the brilliant professionalism to the downright delinquent; no small number of childish pranks having landed their way.

Murphy smiled in remembrance.

No, it was not surprising that Doyle's current behaviour was confusing them. It still confused him although he made no judgements on the subject. All in all, it just made him feel very grateful that Cowley let him work solo. It was bad enough that he had to baby-sit these two young know-it-alls for their first couple of months. He personally would not like the responsibility of a permanent partner.

Taking up his coffee, he made his way to the sofa and sat down, continuing his own observation of Doyle. Just how could he sit there, calmly reading a novel whilst Bodie was ... what?

Well, that's the point, isn't it? He told himself. We don't know where Bodie is, do we? Bodie is missing and Ray Doyle sits, no, sprawls comfortably in the rest room, reading a book. How can he do that?

He glanced back across the room and caught two pairs of guilty eyes that suddenly changed direction to peer out of the window.

Poor sods, he smirked inwardly. How can they understand when even I don't. And I've known Bodie and Doyle for five years.

The rest room door banged open revealing Jax and Lewis, and Murphy noticed that Doyle did actually look up at the newcomers, only to return to his book as soon as it became apparent that there was no news.

Jax caught Murphy's eye and smiled before looking at Doyle. Murphy returned the smile Yes, the rest of the squad knew the drill all right. It was business as usual with Doyle.

Sighing deeply, Murphy stretched his spine. He hated this waiting about, the hours of tension and boredom. Especially in cases like this where one of their own was missing. Solo agents obviously had the easier time even though they still worried. It was the teams that really suffered when one half had disappeared or was in danger, and they all had their own little ways of coping.

Bodie, for instance, behaved exactly the opposite to Doyle. Whenever Ray had been the one lost or missing, Bodie always reacted fiercely and aggressively, even to the point where he would take on Cowley. Murphy had watched the Cow deal with an explosive Bodie a number of times now and he had come to the conclusion that if George Cowley could not control Bodie, he did at least point the loaded weapon either at the right target or out of harm's way. Thank God.

Well, at least most of the time he did. Bodie had come very close to being suspended for disobeying orders a couple of times. Why does Cowley put up with it? he wondered. Anyway, it was for that reason that Bodie was known as the Cow's blue-eyed boy by the rest of the squad, no-one else even trying to guess at Cowley's reasoning.

All Murphy would privately admit to was that the Cow let Bodie get away with a great deal more than anyone else dared to chance and that that could very well hold the key to the enigma. Bodie showed his courage in tackling Cowley and, if nothing else, Cowley admired him for it. Who really knew?

Absently sipping his coffee, Murphy pulled a face - it was not only cool but disgusting. He rose from his seat and made himself a fresh mug, joining in the conversation Jax and Lewis were having about some new surveillance equipment that had just been sent for CI5 evaluation.

The rest room door opened again and all conversation stopped as George Cowley appeared in the doorway. Waiting only for Doyle to become aware of the silence and redirect his gaze, the Head of CI5 spoke. "We’ve got a lead at last. Bodie’s car has been spotted by a motor patrol in Richmond. One of the local detectives made a quick sweep through the area and ..." Loud groans of disparagement filled the air causing George Cowley to flash an impatient look at the interruption before continuing.

"Fortunately, he's a good man whose father-in-law runs the local newsagents and he remembers seeing a man answering Bodie's description entering a disused factory in Downs Road. We'll set up a operations control point in Chambers Street so ... Jax, Murphy, Lewis, on your way. Doyle, you can drive me."

Turning away, he caught sight of Peters and Lambert. "You two as well, but stay with Murphy, " he snapped and then disappeared through the door followed closely by Doyle.

Collecting his charges, Murphy escorted them down to the parking area where they all piled into the waiting vehicles.

It only took fifteen minutes for the CI5 convoy to reach the target site but it was obvious that Cowley and Doyle had been discussing plans on the way, as orders were being barked out as soon as the two senior men got out of Cowley's Cortina.

Peters and Lambert stood close to Murphy, picking up any orders and news as they could. They did not even notice that Doyle had disappeared until they saw him approaching from the end of the street on his way back to rejoin them. Walking straight up to Cowley, he made his report and the younger agents realised that he must have been to Downs Road and carried out his own reconnaissance of the factory.

Seconds later, more orders were being called out. Jax and Lewis were sent to the back of the target building whilst the new men found themselves shadowing Murphy and Doyle as they approached the factory down a narrow alleyway at the side.

Doyle reached the end first and motioned Murphy up next to him. After a short whispered conversation, Doyle disappeared around the corner and Murphy returned to his 'team'.

"Right, keep behind me. Keep your eyes open. And stay alert. " With that he went after Doyle.

Peters looked at Lambert and grinned. This was what they had been trained for and they were ready to go to work. Five minutes later the four man team was inside the factory, gaining entry through the window of an unoccupied office.

Murphy unholstered his gun, noticing that Peters and Lambert immediately followed his lead. He was fairly happy that, if there were any terrorists, criminals or all-round bad guys in here, they were not yet aware that the guys in white hats had just arrived. The trouble with this particular case was that they had no idea what they were up against; Bodie had not radioed in with any details of what he was doing.

There could be a terrorist cell here complete with a full arsenal of weaponry and all the components for bomb construction. Then again, it could be something simple. Bodie may just have heard a whisper about the building, have decided to take a quick look round himself and fallen through some rotting floorboards.

Sighing, Murphy knew that all they could do was take their time and carefully check the whole building until they found the answer to this particular puzzle, and he followed Doyle as the older man opened the only door in the room and left to start the search.

After finding the ground floor clear and meeting up with Jax and Lewis in a rear corridor, the full CI5 team approached the stairs to the first floor. With Doyle leading, Murphy held Peters and Lambert back, not only so that he could keep an eye on them but also to allow Jax and Lewis room to manoeuvre. It was a classic search format and it fell into place perfectly. The shooting started before the new men had even reached the top of the stairs.

Murphy glanced back at Peters and motioned to him and Lambert to start searching the rooms on either side of the narrow passageway.

"And watch out in case anyone got left behind," he advised as they all began the job at hand, the sound of gunfire echoing eerily in the distance.

It was not long after that Murphy heard a gasp and turned to see Peters stumble backwards from a doorway ten feet away. Joining the man, he quickly shouldered his way past when he saw what had caused the noise of distress.

Bodie.

Not one to back away when faced with unpleasant sights, Murphy recognised a torture scene when he saw one. He knelt beside the blood-covered body lying face down on a dirty groundsheet in the middle of the room.

Looking back over his shoulder, he shouted to Peters. "Find Doyle. Now," and then turned away without waiting to see if his order was carried out.

The shooting had finished and Peters soon came across the other members of CI5 in a large, empty working area, where they were collecting up discarded weapons and checking fallen bodies for identification.

Doyle, who had been inspecting nearby offices, looked round as Peters called his name. The very fact that the young man could say no more seemed to tell him all he needed to know. There was no emotion visible on his face as he walked past the pale-faced agent and disappeared back along the corridor.

Peters turned to follow, not noticing the exchange of glances between Jax and Lewis, nor the fact that the two more experienced men were close behind him as he returned to Murphy. Murphy looked up as Doyle entered and stopped just inside the doorway.

"He ..." Murphy started to say but was interrupted as Doyle walked across the room. "Is he dead?"

"Give me a couple of minutes ... sunshine ... Then I'll let you know."

Bodie's voice was low and hoarse but Doyle gave a slight smile as he reached inside his jacket for his radio.

"4.5 to Alpha One."

Static was the only reply.

"'s no use. Must be a ... radio blackspot," came the low voice from the floor. "I couldn't use ... my radio in ... in the car either."

Doyle looked down at the abused body at his feet and then turned towards the doorway. Spotting Lambert he snapped out instructions quickly.

"Go and find Cowley and send for an ambulance. Oh, and get the clean up brigade in," he added as an afterthought.

Jax and Lewis gave Doyle the thumbs up sign which he returned absently, and then returned to their own business, happy in the knowledge that Bodie was at least safe if not exactly sound.

Peters re-entered the room and moved to stand at Murphy's shoulder. He watched Doyle with wide eyes, wondering at the calm air of detachment that seemed to cover Doyle like a cloak.

Murphy was stroking Bodie's hair and talking quietly. Peters was unable to hear the words and speculated about what he could be saying. He glanced at Doyle again, unable to understand how Bodie's partner could just stand and watch so calmly as another agent comforted the injured man.

The peace of the moment was broken by Cowley's arrival along with the ambulance crew and the clean up team. The sudden change in tempo was too much and Peters left the room, making his way out of the factory and joining Lambert in the fresher air.

"God, that room was ... stuffy," he said, slowly. "I didn't really notice it when we were in there."

"Sensory overload," remarked his partner. "What our eyes were seeing swamped our other senses."

Peters grunted in acknowledgement as he lit a cigarette.

"Thought you were giving up."

"So did I." The stilted conversation was forgotten as both men turned to watch the ambulance crew carry the stretcher out into the street. They could see that Bodie was still lying face down but was now covered by a blanket and they stood in silence as the little parade passed them on its way to the waiting ambulance.

Once their cargo was settled, one of the men jumped down and started to close the rear doors only to be stopped by a loud shout.

"Oi, wait for me." Doyle had burst out of the factory door and was running across the Intervening space. Leaping into the back of the white vehicle, he motioned for the waiting man to carry on and then disappeared from view as the doors were slammed shut.

Two pairs of eyes watched the ambulance pull out and drive away.

Lambert glanced at Peters, raising his eyebrows in surprise and Peters grinned in sympathy.

"Murphy was right," he said simply. "We really must learn not to judge people so quickly."

"Yeah," came the laconic reply.

o0o

Ray Doyle unlocked the door to Bodie's flat and then stood aside to let his partner enter. Making his way into the lounge, Bodie carefully lowered himself into a chair as Doyle closed the door firmly and reset the alarms.

Bodie sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees, uncomfortably aware of his injuries, and watched as Ray made his way to the drinks cupboard and helped himself to a Scotch. "Want a drink?"

"Don't think I should with all the painkillers floatin' round my blood stream."

"Okay." Drinking the scotch straight down, Doyle poured himself another.

"But don't let me stop you, mate." Righteous indignation flooded Bodie's voice. "Just help yourself, why don't you?"

"Ta." Doyle stayed by the bottle and, after knocking back the second drink, he refilled the glass again. "I think I will."

Looking at his partner, Bodie took in the calm demeanour but noted that it was at odds with the body language. He sighed internally, there was no mistaking the fact that Ray had a problem. No, we have a problem, he thought with resignation. An old, old problem.

"If you're stopping, take your coat off." Bodie tried the old 'attack is the best defence' routine. "You make the place look like a station waiting room."

Not reacting to the criticism, Doyle put his scotch down, removed his leather jacket and, throwing it over a chair, automatically rolled up his shirt sleeves before reclaiming his glass. Turning to survey the room, his eyes fell on his partner and Bodie saw the shuttered expression slam into place as Ray took in and realised the necessity for his partner's ungainly posture.

Here we go, he thought, depression settling over him like a heavy fog.

"Before you start, Ray, I did try to radio in but the bloody thing wouldn't work and anyway it didn't seem like a big deal at the time." He could see that his words were having little effect but carried on doggedly.

"I spotted a face and followed it. I couldn't remember who he was or where I knew him from. I just had that itch that told me he was up to no good."

"Jerry Sands." Doyle's voice was flat and he did not elaborate on his information. "Yeah, Jerry Sands," Bodie echoed. "I did work it out eventually. And you can't tell me that, knowing who he was, would have stopped you from doing the same thing." There was no reaction.

"Christ, Doyle, he's a nothing. A zero." Bodie spoke emphatically. "How was I suppose to guess that he was running errands for Jackson and his heavy mob? He's never been involved with scum like that before."

Doyle's cold eyes did not waver and Bodie knew that, this time, the battle was going to be rough.

"Ah, Ray. Don't do this," he said with a tight voice.

"Don't do what?"

"Don't stand there like judge and jury rolled into one."

"I'm not," came the wintry reply.

"Yes, you bloody well are," Bodie shouted angrily. "You're waiting for me to apologise for making a bad judgement and for getting caught. I know you."

Pulling back on the reins of his temper, Bodie knew that losing it would not help matters, knew that things would have to take their proper course as they always did in circumstances like this. But it seemed so unfair this time. He tried again.

"It seemed to be a straight forward tail. I spotted the guy, decided to keep an eye on him and was outnumbered when it all turned to worms."

He began to realise that maybe Doyle, and Cowley, had reason to be a bit annoyed, and had the grace to look shame-faced. "Okay, so I shouldn't have let them get the drop on me. But Jerry Sands is - was - so low grade, I let myself expect it to stay that way. And, I know, I should have expected the unexpected."

He looked up and met the stony green gaze. "For that I do apologise."

Doyle's eyes looked even colder as he responded. "Don't apologise to me, mate. I'm not the one with cigarette burns and razor slashes all over his back. And I'm not the one who's going to have to tell Cowley all this in the morning."

Bodie groaned. "Don't remind me."

"It'll be okay, sunshine." Doyle's voice changed as he looked down at the bowed head. "We all know that you're Cowley's blue-eyed boy. It'll only hurt for a couple of minutes and then he'll let you off, scot-free." He gave a mirthless laugh at his own pun.

The soft spoken words bit through to Bodie's temper but he held it down as Doyle continued. "Anyway, why should I worry about you when you won't?"

That's right, mate, stick the boot right in, Bodie closed his eyes against the implied lack of concern.

A strained silence stretched between them until at last Bodie found his voice. "I am sorry, y'know."

"Yeah, I know you are. You always are."

A sudden movement caught Bodie by surprise and he started up, only stopping as the stitches in his back began to pull. But he was in no danger and he bleakly watched as Doyle walked out to the kitchen.

Slumping back down into his previous position, back held safely away from any support, Bodie pondered on the best way to resolve this particular situation. A crash from the kitchen interrupted his reverie and he rose to his feet, making his way to the doorway just in time to see a plate fly past to slam against the wall and join its brother on the floor.

He carefully leaned a shoulder against the fridge and watched as his partner calmly proceeded to pick up crockery, pans and any other loose items and throw them violently against the walls. It was not until Ray picked up a pottery salt shaker that he was particularly fond of, that he caught the flying arm at the top of its swing.

"Not that, sunshine. I like that." And he removed the tiny aeroplane and placed it out of harm's way. Without letting go of the captive wrist, he hunted for a moment before coming up with a china cup which he placed in the uplifted hand.

They made a strange tableau. Bodie, holding the upstretched arm at the wrist and Doyle, standing perfectly still, watching him with a hard glare.

As Bodie let go, the arm continued its mission and the cup joined the rest of the debris on the floor.

"Dammit, Bodie." The words were so controlled despite their content, just as Doyle was so controlled despite his actions.

"Why did they do it?"

"Do what?"

Doyle stood with his hands held loosely at his sides. "Why the torture?"

"Oh. They just wanted to know how I'd got on to them, who else knew, what CI5 would do. You know." Bodie shrugged the matter away and immediately wished that he had used some other method of dismissal as his back revolted against the movement. "Mind you, I think they got their jollies from inflicting pain, as well."

"What did you tell them?" The question sounded merely idle curiosity.

"Nothing." Bodie looked at Doyle in amazement "Why not?"

"What do you mean, 'why not'?"

"Why didn't you tell them the truth?"

"Don't be daft," Bodie started to laugh. "Would you have believed the truth?" Putting on a whining voice, he mimicked, "Please sir, I spotted your little errand boy and just followed him on a whim. I didn't know you were here so I haven't told my boss."

Doyle laughed with him but the humour never touched his eyes. "Yeah, you're right. That would've seemed pretty stupid," his voice changed from mild sarcasm to deep anger in the space of a moment. "Wouldn't it, Bodie?"

Bodie stopped laughing as he found himself locked in a gaze of such deep contempt that it stilled his breath. He threw up his hands in resignation. "You're right. I know it, you know it and Cowley knows it, but I can't put the clock back, can I?"

Reaching for one of the few unbroken mugs, Doyle turned away and filled it from the tap. Taking a deep drink, he then stared at the water in deep thought before putting it down on the counter.

"How's your back?"

The change of subject threw Bodie for a moment. "'s okay."

"I saw what they'd done. That's got to be bloody agony."

"Okay, so it hurts!"

Doyle watched him, eyes still glinting with repressed anger.

"Have you got a breaking point, Bodie?"

The dark blue eyes flickered briefly then a closed expression covered any emotion before it could be identified.

"Yeah."

"What is it?"

Bodie turned away.

"What is it, Bodie?" Anger was surfacing in Doyle's voice again. "What or who can break you?"

There was still no reply.

"Answer me. I would really like to know who can get through to you. What will get through that thick skin and make you give in?"

Bodie turned back and found himself staring into the strongest, coldest gaze he had ever seen in his life. His lips opened but his mouth was too dry and he could not say the words. "Tell me, for god's sake." The furious shout echoed round the kitchen.

The answer fell from his lips. "You."

Silence reigned. The two men locked in battle without even moving. Then Bodie reached out with both arms and surrendered. He took hold of his lover's body and pulled the firm figure into his embrace.

Doyle dropped his head on to Bodie's waiting shoulder.

"It's not enough."

"What?" Bodie was startled.

"It's not enough, this time," Doyle repeated.

Hearing the tight, drawn out voice, Bodie realised what he meant. His partner was still tightly under control - control that he had had to maintain in order to function properly over the last twelve, fifteen hours; since his lover had disappeared.

Rubbing his hands up and down Ray's arms, Bodie thought desperately, trying to find a solution to the problem. Then, taking hold of Doyle's wrist, he moved out of the kitchen, tugging his partner in his wake.

"Where are we going?"

"I have plans for you, sunshine."

"Such as?"

"I'm planning my own little torture scene," came the determined reply.

Although not struggling, Doyle continued to argue. "I'm not into domination games, Bodie. You know that."

Bodie stopped in the bedroom doorway. "Are you scared of me?"

"No."

"That's okay then," and he pulled Ray gently into the room and over to the bed. Doyle came to a stand still, staring at him, slack limbed and icily calm. He opened his mouth and said, with a tight voice, "Just what are you plotting?"

Smoothing his hands over his partner's shoulders, rubbing at the tense muscles, Bodie cupped his hands on either side of the strong neck. He stared into the cool, exotic eyes and spoke softly, "We're going to find your breaking point, aren't we?"

Eyes widened slightly but otherwise there was no sign of any weakness in the cold wall of detachment that was shutting Doyle into solitary confinement.

Hands undid buttons, shirts were removed from warm flesh, zips were unfastened and trousers discarded. Both men undressed their partner with gentleness but all emotion was subdued.

Finally naked, Bodie placed his arms around Ray and smiled as Doyle's arms made their first voluntary move to return the loving embrace. He felt soft lips caress his cheek and then the hands stopped abruptly before they could touch the injured back.

Doyle moved away slightly.

"We can't do this. You're in no fit state."

"Oh yes, we can. I told you, I've got plans."

"How?" Doyle's tone was changing to one of curiosity but Bodie did not answer. Instead, he licked at the sensuous lips until Ray gave in and opened them, allowing him to explore the soft flesh within. Bodie groaned deep in his throat as their tongues met and then again as extra sensation shot through the nerves in his hips and buttocks as Doyle stroked the firm, sensitive skin Heads moved apart to allow for breath and Bodie looked at the honey-gold flesh beneath his hands and then lowered his lips to nibble at the smooth neck causing Doyle to arch against him. The movement of hot skin on skin sent flares of excitement racing from nipples to groin and then Bodie gasped in pain as Ray's arms closed round him in mindless passion.

They parted, Doyle's glittering eyes taking in the pale, pain-racked face.

"It's no good, Bodie. This won't work," he said, frustration burning through him.

As the pain from the pulled stitches and grazed skin abated, Bodie swallowed and found his voice. "Yes it will, so long as you do as you're told, and that means not touching me." Fury flared again. "I can't guarantee that with what you want to do."

"Ah, since you don't know what I intend to do, you can't say that."

Sceptical eyebrows were raised over angry eyes as Doyle did not bother to hide either his resentment or his disbelief.

"Trust me, Ray," Bodie said calmly. "And pile all the pillows together up against the bed head."

For a moment he thought Doyle was going to ignore him but then, with a sharp grunt of acceptance, his partner turned to his task, moving the pillows as Bodie had directed, placing them against the head rail of the beautiful old brass bedstead.

By the time he had finished, Bodie was pushing him down onto the mattress. "Sit up in the pillows," he was instructed firmly.

Again, Ray obeyed, a questioning frown playing over his features as he lay back against the huge, soft mound and, once he was in position, Bodie carefully joined him, straddling his lover's hips.

"Well, I can see that this isn't going to hurt your back but what about these?" Ray lifted his arms. "I can still hurt you without meaning to."

"These should take care of that, mate," and Bodie picked up the two silk scarves that he had retrieved from a drawer whilst his lover had rearranged the pillows.

"Bodie!"

Smiling at Ray's outraged face, Bodie waited a moment before answering the unspoken accusation. "Look, you know you mustn't touch my back. And you know you won't be able to help yourself." A serious expression claimed his face as he went on, "You trust me with your life. Are you saying now that you don't trust me with this?"

Anger warred with Doyle's faith in Bodie for a spit second and then he yielded with a grimace. He shrugged and sighed.

"Okay. You win."

Winding the fragile-looking material around Ray's left wrist, Bodie then attached it to the bed rail, making sure that it was not too tight or uncomfortable before repeating the exercise with the captured right hand.

"This feels bloody stupid." Ray's embarrassed complaint was ignored.

"And how does this feel?"

Dropping his head, Bodie took his partner's lips in a hard, demanding kiss and was gratified in Doyle's immediate response; hips thrusting upward, torso twisting and constrained arms flexing.

Bodie felt a twinge of pain across his back and let his full weight bear down on the writhing body to prevent most of the violent movement, Ray's groan of frustration at this extra restraint causing shivers of arousal throughout his body as he began to appreciate the total control that was in his power.

As Ray tried to pull his head away to voice his frustration, Bodie took hold of the silky curls and stilled his struggles with a kiss, waiting for Doyle to give in. At last, he lifted his head and saw the half angry, half drugged look in his partner's eyes.

Thank God. It's going to be okay, came the sweet knowledge.

"It hurts my back when you move your hips so that has to stop too, I'm afraid." Desire was winning through and Doyle merely muttered his agreement to Bodie's comment as he stared blindly at his lover.

Bodie now felt able to start on the rest of his plan and, moving very carefully, he used all the many wiles and tricks at his disposal to tease his lover into absolute incoherence; slowly taking him apart, nerve by nerve. Teeth, lips, tongue and hands all played their part in the little death of Ray Doyle. No part of his body was immune or uncared for; nipples, neck, thighs and testicles were all subjected to his caring attention. And Ray knew he was going to lose his mind - totally and irrevocably.

Biting his lips and inner cheeks, he pulled against the restraints, trying to free himself from the torment. Lost to the blaze of desire, he fought to avoid crying out but eventually Bodie won that battle too, and even this wall of defence was breached as his voice broke out.

"Bodie ... stop ... no ... please."

Bodie stopped immediately and returned to his straddled position.

"Okay, I've stopped." He looked down at the shaking body pinned beneath him. Ray gasped for air and Bodie could see the tremors running through the straining muscles in arms, chest and stomach. Doyle could not move; could not escape his exquisite fate.

"Bodie?" The hoarse voice pleaded with him but he could still see traces of anger in the wide, green gaze that speared through him Oh, no, not yet, lover, he thought, enjoying the sense of tender dominance and looking forward to the culmination of this fantasy of pleasure.

The sounds of Ray's belaboured breathing brought him back to the matter at hand and, recognising the desperate plea for release, he slid back slightly to rest on the strong, athletic thighs before reaching for Ray's throbbing erection. Gently squeezing and rubbing the hot, satiny skin, he watched his partner's head drop back onto the pillows in submission.

As Ray groaned at the overwhelming sensations fanning out over his near-tortured skin, Bodie watched as neck muscles stretched and arm muscles tensed in their quest for freedom and relief. His lover had never looked so vulnerable or desirable.

"Christ, Ray. I ..." Bodie bit the words back. Too soon, old son. Too soon.

Releasing his hold on the soft skin and leaning forward to pet the soft curls on the heaving chest, he began biting and licking at the nipples as they sprang erect to his touch. His fingertips brushed lightly over the smooth skin, playing with the soft hair, sending messages of teasing longing across aching flesh.

His own urgent erection touched Doyle's and they both gave startled cries in response; the flares of white hot passion running away down every nerve they possessed to heat blood and body in momentary agony.

Very carefully, and with very shaky arms, Bodie levered himself away from the temptation that was Ray Doyle. He ignored the muttered imprecations that whispered past swollen lips; pleas for attention and threats of revenge.

Reaching into the bedside cupboard, he picked up a tube of cream and returned to sit on the side of the bed. Angry, beseeching eyes followed his every move and, as they saw what he carried, a light of relief lit deep within them.

"Yeah, Bodie. Oh, yeah."

A slightly strained smile crossed Bodie's face as he smeared the lubricant on his fingers and, as Ray spread his legs in anticipation, he was confounded when Bodie pushed his knees together and gently stroked the jelly on his lover's aching manhood.

Ray quite literally lost his breath, and his sight, and all his other senses.

"Not exactly what you expected, eh?" Bodie chuckled deep in his chest as he watched Ray struggle to come to terms with the very different physical and mental attitudes required for this change in the game.

"Bodie," The voice was weak and husky at the same time.

"Yeah?" He watched as Ray's tongue licked over his parched lips.

"Just ... Bodie."

The two pairs of eyes locked in silent communion and Bodie was relieved to see that the anger was dissipating; control of the mental senses was slackening. In its place, a deep burning desire shone out from the exotic eyes, cutting straight through to Bodie's heart like a sharp knife. He closed his eyes against the overpowering sensation, fighting his own body in order to retain command. At last he succeeded and, taking more of the cream, he smeared himself with it before slowly returning to his dominant position over his lover while Ray watched him as though mesmerised; mouth slightly open, panting quickly, and heavy, glazed eyes, half closed.

Lowering himself extremely carefully, Bodie held Doyle's burgeoning erection in place and then let gravity, and his own aching thigh muscles, complete the sensuous movement. He took his lover inside his own body willingly and joyfully, avidly watching the emotions that flashed over Ray's face; burning them into his memory to be kept forever, his brain recording the words which Ray called out in his extremis.

Wanting more but knowing that Ray would not be able to keep still, he settled his whole weight heavily across his lover's body and then stroked his face with caressing fingers. The deep green eyes opened and he felt himself begin to drown in the love and passion that blazed out like a beacon.

"For Christ's sake, don't move, Ray," he begged with an unsteady voice. "I want to kiss you, but I can't keep you still at the same time."

A look of fierce concentration settled over Doyle's features as he accepted the responsibility and Bodie leaned forward and took the bruised lips with his own. As his tongue seduced the soft, pliant mouth and his hands continued their teasing journey, nipping and stroking the swollen nipples, Bodie listened to the sighs and moans and sharp gasps that Ray could not hold back. When he felt the trembling body beneath him begin to shake more violently, he leaned back and watched as the straining muscles began to relax, only then realising that his partner had concentrated all his strength into keeping still by pulling against the silken bonds.

"Jesus. I'm sorry, Ray." He felt a prickly heat behind his eyes and a heavy sense of pressure around his chest as he thought of the stresses Ray was accepting on his behalf, and that was on top of his own, deeper need for mental and physical release.

Looking at the half-supine torso as it softened back into repose, Bodie moved his hips slowly from side to side, watching the now unseeing eyes of his lover fly open. He savoured the taste of victory as he listened to the words forced from the maddened lips.

"Bodie Ah, Bodie ... Please, please ... Oh God, I need you ..." the hoarse whispers broke off as Ray took a shuddering breath and then gave a sharp cry as he saw the reflection of desire in his lover's eyes.

Lifting his feet, Bodie anchored Ray's legs and then began to raise himself away from the tantalising body only to drop back into position a second later. He began to repeat the movement, gradually rising higher and higher and moving faster and faster, and was rewarded by the vision of Ray's body writhing and squirming beneath him.

Unable to buck his hips, Doyle was flying high, frantically needing the extra friction being withheld from him and Bodie saw a fine sheen of sweat appear on the quivering flesh. Stopping abruptly, he waited for Ray to look at him and when the beautiful, exotic green eyes eventually opened, Bodie fell into the gaze of pure sensual heat. Giving one last, deep thrust with his hips, he whispered, "I love you."

Orgasm exploded deep within, ripping through mind and body and, as he arched his head back to scream out his release, Ray Doyle felt himself break into a thousand separate pieces.

At the sight of this total surrender Bodie was lost and, falling forward, he covered his lover's mouth with his own, catching the primal howl for himself as he felt his own seed surge out in violent waves of ecstasy.

When his senses returned, Bodie found himself crying; simple tears which ran lightly onto his cheeks. He pushed himself upright, slipping free of the placid body beneath him and, wiping his face with his hand, he saw Ray's shoulders begin to shake. Leaning over to loosen the scarves, he cursed when he found that the knots had tightened beyond all hope. He struggled to his feet and went to find scissors or a knife Returning, he quickly cut Doyle free and began to massage the aching arms and shoulders, stopping to pull his lover into his arms as the shakes changed to deep, soul-wrenching sobs. Eventually, the sobs died away and Ray lay quietly in his embrace, filially at peace. "You okay?"

"Am now. Thanks "

"I should be thanking you, mate."

"No. I needed that ... so bad."

Bodie tightened his grip and hugged his lover. "I'm really sorry about today," he whispered.

Doyle waved his hand in dismissal. "Don't be daft. We both know that I'd'ave done the same thing. You were right, Jerry Sands was a third rate no-hoper. It was an honest mistake and any one of us could have made it. You just happened to be the unlucky one."

Bodie examined his partner's face before accepting his comments.

"Well, it's all right now. I'm just sorry it hit you so bad this time."

Doyle shook his head. "It can't be helped ... and you always find a way to get me through it. Though, this time, you did go a bit over the top, didn't you?"

Bodie grinned. "It was rather good, wasn't it?"

Taking in the picture of his highly contented partner, Ray smiled softly.

"Jesus, you're getting mushy," Bodie accused in feigned surprise.

"Sod off, you ... you sad excuse for a Casanova," was the disgusted retort.

"Oh, yes, you are definitely getting mushy," said Bodie, ignoring the interruption. "Don't bother to deny it, sunshine. Must be old age or something " Doyle laughed in defeat. "Well, that was definitely something, wasn't it?"

"Yeah. It's just a pity that we didn't cotton on to it earlier. Would've saved us a lot of crockery."

Enjoying the sound of Ray's laughter, Bodie rubbed his hands over his partner's shoulders and, noticing the ruined scarves, inspected the abused wrists. Red marks marred the otherwise tanned skin and he frowned. "My research said that silk scarves caused no pain, to the captive."

"Perhaps there wasn't supposed to be quite so much active resistance," commented a sleepily satisfied Doyle.

"Suppose you're right."

A companionable silence filled the air, Bodie lying on his side, running his hand over the warm, supple skin whilst his lover lay back like an arab sultan. But certain facts and words began to weave themselves into questions until ... "Bodie?"

"Yeah."

"What was this research you were doing?"

There was a momentary silence as Bodie realised he was in trouble.

"What?" He muttered innocently.

"And where did the silk scarves come from?"

"Ah ..." Lost for words, Bodie started to edge towards the side of the bed. "Well?" A hand fell on Bodie's leg preventing his sly attempt at escape. "Er ... my top drawer."

"What were they doing there?"

"Well, I was ... Ray, I was planning ... I thought that ... Something like ..." The voice fell away in very suspicious embarrassment.

"So," the soft voice dragged the word out very slowly, "this wasn't exactly a spur of the moment solution to today's problem, then."

"Oh yes, it was. It was definitely that," Bodie argued with some force.

"But ...?"

"But I had been planning on doing it sometime anyway." Bodie's speech was fast as he gave in and admitted his guilt.

"And when I couldn't shake off the stress today, you just thought that this might be a good time to give it a whirl." Doyle filled in the blanks.

"Well, it worked, didn't it?" Bodie's face reflected his injured sensibilities.

Doyle regarded him seriously and then grinned, "Too bloody right it worked. I've never gone up like that before. It was bloody fantastic."

Bodie smirked back at him, relieved that his partner was not annoyed with the wicked fantasy that he had been plotting for some future night.

"Always glad to be of service, sunshine," he answered smugly.

"Yeah, I can thoroughly recommend it. You are really going to enjoy it."

"Eh?"

"Well, I couldn't in all fairness keep something that good all to myself, now could I? You being me best mate and all that," Doyle added with great feeling.

"But ..."

"No, I always share the good things of life with you. You know I do."

"Doyle!" A desperate voice roared.

"We're partners, Bodie. Wither I go, thou goest," Doyle misquoted without a qualm. "But ... but I'm an invalid," came a horrified cry.

"Don't worry, Bodie. Would I do that to you?"

"Thank Christ for that. " Relief spread out over Bodie's face. "You know, you really had me worried there for a moment."

"It'll be okay, you'll see," Doyle continued, "I can wait until you're all nicely healed." A muffled choke came from the bed as Ray Doyle went on relentlessly, " And you know I'm exceedingly good at waiting, Bodie."


March, 1995

o0o


Title: The Breaking Point
Author: Liz Bradford
Slash or Gen: Slash
Archive at ProsLib/Circuit: Yes please
Disclaimer: Bodie, Doyle and the CI5-verse is only somewhere we play, not somewhere we work or profit from in any way other than joy.

Comments

[ali15son.livejournal.com]

I just love this , i could read it over and over and over again. Tortured Bodie ,box ticked . Furious Doyle, box ticked and then the partnership back together in the best way possible.

Thankyou.