Shay Sheridan

"Khalil Farsheed," Bodie said sourly, peeling off his sweaty shirt and hurling it across the motel room, "is quite possibly the stupidest terrorist I have ever met." He stomped over to the window and snapped the air conditioner on high. "Builds himself a tree house and can't escape when we track him! Hasn't he ever heard the expression 'going to ground?'" He stripped off the rest of his clothes and threw himself on the bed with a profound sigh.

Doyle closed the door and sagged against it. "Oh, I dunno. He led us a merry chase, didn't he, for two weeks and two continents."

"Yeah? Should've let the Americans get him, once he left Heathrow. But nooooo – we have to play fetch and carry for the master."

"Well, you know, the Cow's a territorial sod, isn't he?" Doyle yawned and stretched, ignoring the interested look sent his way. "Anyway, my first chance to see America, wasn't it?" '

"Really?" Bodie sat up, plumping the pillows against the headboard. "Never been here before?"

Doyle quickly stripped off his clothes and climbed onto the bed. "Never, Mr. World Traveler. I'm just a homebody. Mind you—" his hands began to trace intricate patterns over Bodie's ribs. "—I do tend to enjoy the fruits of the old country."

"I'll fruit you, Sunshine," Bodie growled, slapping Doyle's hand away. "Oi. That tickles, it does. Do something useful with that hand, if you're going to use it."

Doyle for once obeyed and let his hand wander more purposefully south. "Next time I come for a holiday, I'm going to a city. New York, maybe. Or San Francisco. Miami."

"Yeah, that sounds lively," Bodie managed to say, his eyes squeezed shut as he tried to control his response to Doyle's clever fingers. "So you don't like the New England scenery, then?"

"Nah. Too much like old England." Doyle rubbed and squeezed and chuckled when Bodie writhed in response. "Mucking about in the woods for a week isn't my idea of a holiday, anyway." He broke off to scratch at an itch.

"Don't stop, for Chrissakes!" Bodie's eyes snapped open. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing, be patient." Doyle scratched his leg again before returning his attentions to Bodie. Bodie melted under his touch; it took all of another thirty seconds before he grunted and spilled all over Doyle's hands and his own belly. "There now," Ray said. "Better, my petal?"

"Much, ta for it. C'mere."

Strong arms grabbed Doyle and rolled him onto his back. Bodie leaned in for a kiss, then trailed his lips down Ray's torso to his jutting cock. "Dear me. That needs some care."

"Mmm, yes, it does," Doyle croaked. "Would you mind—"

"Of course. Share and share alike, I always say. Dr. Bodie'll fix you right up." Bodie leaned back and considered the spectacle of Ray Doyle splayed out for his pleasure. "Let's see. Where to begin?"

"Bodie—" Doyle's leg itched again and he stretched one hand to scratch at it.

"Aha," Bodie said, leering at Doyle's reddened skin. "I remember that awful shag carpet in the first cruddy place we stayed here. Nasty case of rug burn, I'd say. That must be annoying."


"Want me to kiss it all better?"

"Nah, better not." Doyle frowned and punched his partner lightly on the chest. "Bodie! Will you get on with it!"

Bodie applied himself, and his mouth, and in mere minutes Ray was arching off the bed.

"How's that?" Bodie licked at his lip and then leaned down to kiss the end of Doyle's still twitching cock. "All better now?"

"Yeah." Doyle smiled lazily up at him, slowly wrapping his legs around Bodie's back to draw him closer.

"Next you'll be wanting me to apply ointment to your rug burn, I suppose."

"Actually," Doyle said, rubbing his calf against Bodie and eliciting a shiver in response, "'m pretty sure it's not rug burn."

"No?" Bodie smirked at him. "What is it then?"

"Poison ivy," Doyle said, reaching down to scratch. "Share and share alike, I always say."

Written for the "Random Line" Challenge on The Safehouse.
The line:
"It's not rug burn ..." - One For The Money, Janet Evanovich

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