Title:                   Coming To An End
Author pseudonym:        Panda
Rating:                  NC-17
Status:                  Complete, start of an unfinished
                         series
Pairing:                 Quinnan / Loxton
Spoilers:                Set immediately after P.C / No Trace
Disclaimers:             Characters mentioned belong to
                         Thames Television / Pearson.
Comments:                Non-beta'd.



===============================
Say goodbye on a night like this
If its the last thing we ever do
You never looked as lost as this
Sometimes it doesn't even look like you

'A Night Like This' - The Cure
===============================


===============
Coming To An End
===============


Anger.

I want to...

No, I *should* feel anger.

Shouldn't I?

I mean, I have every right to feel pretty ticked off.
I've just more or less been stood up by...

...By the man who I always suspected would one day break my
heart.  But not like this!  I never contemplated him just
up and leaving everything.  Never.  The idea is
completely foreign to me.  I still can't believe he did
it...

Nor can I believe that he didn't come and say goodbye.

And that's why I want to feel angry.  Anger at his
apparent complete and utter brush off of me.  I can just
accept that he may not have wanted a private farewell,
but to not come to the pub?  That's the bit I don't get.
Nothing would have been asked of him.  Mates sitting
around a final pint together, nothing else.

At least I could have seen him one last time.

~*~*~*~

I give up after two hours of anxiously waiting at the
Tally Arms.  There is no point in hanging around as it is
obvious that he isn't coming -- that he must be well and
truly on his way to Manchester.  Just as it is obvious
that I don't matter.  Not anymore.  Not even after all
we've shared...

I suspect that Tony is going to take my watch off me if I
look at the time much more.  I can't escape his gaze.
Can't pretend that I am having a good time.  Can't
pretend that I'm happy.

It is with nothing but well-meaning concern that prompts
Tony cornering me in the bathroom.  I know that.  Just as
I know that it is with the same misguided concern that
fuels the, "He's not worth it," speech that follows.  I
can appreciate that it is meant in complete kindness, but
still, I don't want to hear it.

I love Tony dearly as a friend - and that's all he'll
ever be - but he's not... he can't replace Steve.

After receiving the well-meant lecture I decide to cut my
losses and go home.  I don't see any point in my mood
spoiling the atmosphere for the others.  Not that it
appears to be though.  I don't know if they've all
forgotten why we are here in the first place or they just
don't care.  I hope it is the former, but it pains me to
admit that I'm not overly confident on this point.

Nobody tries to stop me from leaving.  Nor do they try
and stop me from wrestling the remote control of the
model car out of George's sweaty grip and taking both the
car and the controller with me.

I'm aware that Tony watches all of this in silence.

Once out on the street I come to the quick conclusion
that just because I don't want to drink with company, it
doesn't mean that I may not want to drink alone.  It is
with these thoughts that I walk until I find an open off-
licence.

When I find one, I choose to ignore the fact that the man
behind the counter probably thinks that I'm unbalanced.
Let's face it, how many men would he see buying a bottle
of Gliver with a model car under one arm and a remote
control sticking out of his pocket?  Not a lot I would
think...

After purchasing the Gliver I walk back out onto the
street and hail the first passing cab.  The driver
doesn't seem the slightest bit interested in the fact
that I stare morosely at a plastic toy car for the entire
journey.  He gives up attempting small talk after
receiving the response, "No, I'm going home to wallow in
self pity," after asking was I off to a party.  The rest
of the trip is completed in silence.

~*~*~*~

I can't feel angry.  It would only detract from my
overriding feeling of misery.

On the coffee table next to the armchair I'm sitting on
in my living room, is a glass and the unopened bottle of
Gliver.  Although I purchased it with the intention of
drowning my misery in style, I can't bring myself to open
it.  If I did, I sincerely doubt I'd be able to stop.

Drink to forget.  Drink to numb the pain.  Drink to
obliterate.

I wouldn't stop until the bottle was empty.  Until I was
passed out unconscious on the floor.

And then the relief would be down another member.  They'd
have another thing to blame Steve for.  Another clump of
dirt thrown on the grave of his own making.

I can't do that to him, regardless of how I feel treated,
or to them.

So instead I play with the remote control car that was
meant as his farewell gift as if I am in a daze.  Driving
it aimlessly around my living room.  I can't even see it
most of the time and only know that it has hit a dead end
by the sound of the tyres spinning futilely.  Part of me
wishes that Pol had got one of those heavy duty, off-road
models.  The almost indestructible ones.  That way I
could have given into my urge to slam it repeatedly into
the skirting board.

Getting up momentarily from the armchair, I locate the
car and carefully push the controls until it comes to a
stop at my feet.  I then sit back down and place the
controller on the table.  As I do this I catch sight of
the gift that I'd been going to give Steve.

A small diecast model of a Vauxhall Vectra that had been
hand painted to look like an Area Car.  But not just any
Area Car.  I'd got them to do it exactly like one of the
ones we use at Sun Hill.  It was perfect in every detail.
From the colours of the Metropolitan Police to the roof
markings and the number plate.

I'd bought it from a company that advertised in one of
Reg's model magazines.  I'd only been flipping through it
because it was preferable to having to listen to Reg
waffle on about things that only Reg can waffle on about.
I think his topic of choice that day was that the Titanic
had been sunk as part of some far reaching conspiracy.
The minute I saw the picture of it I knew I had to buy
one.  One phone call, one cheque and a few weeks later, I
had it.

It was meant to be a Christmas present.

Not that we ever really exchanged gifts.  Although there
was this one time a couple of years back when he gave me
a present.  A model (it's almost funny how our entire
relationship now seems to revolve around model cars...) of
James Bond's Aston Martin DB5.  To this day I'm not sure
what his guiding emotions were.  It did however prove how
surprisingly good he is at picking up on the *little
things*.  It all came about from a conversation a bunch
of us had been having in the canteen about our favourite
childhood toys.  Mine was the Aston Martin and I'd
lamented the fact that I no longer had it.  That I'd had
an attack of altruism at the age of eleven and had given
it to the boy next door because he had broken his leg.  I
felt sorry for him because it meant he couldn't play
football.  I remember Mike and George laughing at me, Reg
nodding in apparent understanding and Steve...well, he'd
looked like he wasn't even listening.

To say I was surprised when a few days later he'd arrived
and pulled one out of his pocket would be an
understatement.  Astounded would be more apt.  Happily
astounded.  He wouldn't accept any thanks and pretended
to be uninterested.  I know he was pleased with my
response though.  I just know...

The Aston Martin - with James and villain, tyre slashers,
missile launchers and bullet shield intact (which
actually means that it is in better condition than mine
was) - takes pride of place on top of my television.

I sometimes wonder whether it was his.  That he hadn't,
"Just come across it in a shop..."

Without really thinking about what I am doing, I reach
over with my left arm, close my hand around the Vectra,
pick it up and bring it back to me.  Slowly I come out of
my reverie and run the fingers of my right hand over the
sleek, cool lines of the model.

I'd been going to slip it in his pocket when no-one was
looking.

I have no idea what I am going to do with it now.  Merely
looking at it is causing me to hurt in ways I can hardly
imagine.  Maybe I'll give it to Tony...  I know he'd like
it.  He loves the bloody car as much as Steve does...

As much as Steve did.

Damn him!

Looking down at the small model in the palm of my hand I
begin to feel the first stirring's of anger to emerge
through the shock and misery.  Damn him! Amongst other
things,  I'd been so looking forward to giving him this
car.

I never expected I'd end up staring morosely at it whilst
trying to ignore that I'll most likely never see him
again.  That he's actually gone...  That he left without
saying goodbye.

And that's what hurts the most.  The fact that he could
so easily up and leave without so much as a farewell.  I
thought, no, I *hoped* I meant more to him than that...

Obviously I was wrong.

I'm not aware of how long I've been sitting here
wallowing and suspect that I could have remained in the
same position until it was time to go to work if not for
the doorbell suddenly ringing.  The annoyingly chirpy
chime shattering the silence.

Fuck.  Who can this be?  I'm not exactly in the mood for
company and hope that whoever it is isn't looking for
scintillating conversation.  If it's Tony and he wants to
offer more words of advice then I don't know what I am
going to do.

The clock on the VCR reads 1.38am as I drag myself out of
the chair and slowly make my way to the front door.

Reaching it, I notice that I'm still holding the Vectra
in my hand and quickly shove it in the pocket of my jeans
before pulling the door open.

Oh.

That's all my shocked mind can come with.  Oh.  Oh, oh,
oh.

Standing on my doorstep, looking perhaps more miserable
than I feel, is Steve Loxton.

I... I don't know what to say.  I honestly don't think I'd
be any more stunned if I had opened the door and found
the current Arsenal team standing there clad in their
away strip.

Steve looks tired.  He remains standing in front of me
with his hands pushed awkwardly into the pockets of his
leather jacket and his eyes won't meet mine.  If I'm
truthful to myself I'd say he looks unsure and it's not
an expression I'm use to.

After what seems like an eternity, he finally speaks.

"Can I come in?"

Neither of us move as I contemplate my response.  Of
course he can come in...but... as I'm more than aware that
this is an unexpected gift, I want something from him.

"You can come in if you answer...*truthfully* answer some
questions for me."

A flicker of hesitation crosses Steve's face before he
looks me in the eye and slowly nods.

"You'll be honest?"

"I promise to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing
but the truth...  Will that satisfy you?"

"Yeah."  I move away from the door and gesture for him to
come in.  "I can't ask for more than that."

Steve walks in and leans against the wall while I shut
the door behind him.  He knows this house as well as he
knows the station but it appears obvious that he is not
going to make any assumptions.  That he is waiting for me
to take the lead.

I take this as indisputable proof that he isn't feeling
himself, and it saddens me.

"Come on.  We'll talk in the living room."

As we walk in silence to the room I virtually have to
bite my tongue to stop myself from asking the question
that I suddenly have an all consuming *need* to ask.  The
question that bursts forth from my lips the minute Steve
sits down on the sofa.

"What are you doing here?"

He opens his mouth to answer, but I haven't finished yet.
The words spilling out as though I have no control over
them.

"Oh... I know.  Let me guess, you merely want to know
whether we got Benham or not.  That's it, isn't it?  It
couldn't be for any other reason...  It's not like you
actually care for me..."

I pause, draw a deep breath and continue before Steve has
time to respond.

"How dare you?  Do you have any idea how... how... pissed off
I am with you?  Pissed off that you just up and quit.
Pissed off that you didn't come to the pub tonight.
Pissed off that... that it's obvious that I mean nothing to
you..."

The final statement comes out a little louder and perhaps
a little more plaintive sounding than I would have liked
and I feel myself blushing.  Damn.  I start to pace
around the room in a futile attempt to compensate for
this.

Steve watches me closely for a few seconds before loudly
sighing.

"Have you finished levelling accusations at me?"

I pause pacing to nod miserably at him.

"Yes?  Okay, first point...  I know you and Tony arrested
Benham.  I was outside his house when you searched it.  I
knew you'd found something from the expression on both
your faces.  I wanted you to see me... But you didn't.

His voice trails off as I try to come to terms with what
he is saying.  He was there?

"I..."

"No..."  Steve stops me.  "Let me finish.  Second point...
I'm aware of how pissed off you are with me.  You have
every right to be.  I know I've hurt you but I could say
sorry and beg for forgiveness until I run out of breath
and I'd still be able to understand you not forgiving me.
Third point...  I did come to the pub.  I just... I just
didn't go in.  I found I... I couldn't...  You all looked so...
relaxed that I suspected I'd only bring the mood down.
Fourth point... I *do* care about you..."

"You do?"  I can't help but interrupt.

Steve nods and looks so...so what?...so dejected that I find
myself believing him without question.  I'd like nothing
more than to go over and hug him... but something stops me.

Besides, he hasn't finished talking yet.

"I do care...  That's why I'm here.  I wasn't going to say
goodbye.  I thought it would be better if I just left...
but... I found that I *couldn't*.   I was actually on my
way when...when it all got too much for me and I found that
I *had* to turn the car around.  I had to come back and
say goodbye to you.  I just...*had* to..."

He pauses again and runs his fingers through his hair.
My mind is reeling from what he has said and the only
thing that springs into it is an inane question.

"How'd you know I'd be back from the pub?"

"I didn't."  A faint smiles accompanies this.  "I
actually hoped that you wouldn't be.  That I could just
sit in the car and wait until you arrived - slightly
drunk - and that way I could have kissed you goodbye and
that would have been it.  As it is I sat in the car for
about forty minutes getting up enough courage to come
in..."

"Oh..."

"You believe me, don't you?"

"Of course I do..."  I walk over to the sofa and sit down
next to him.  Settling, I feel something peculiar in my
pocket and remember that I have the Vectra in there.

Well, now would be as good a time as ever.

I reach into my pocket and wriggle until I've got the
model in my hand.

"Here.  Hold out your hand."

Steve momentarily hesitates before slowly extending his
hand.

"I don't think I want to know what you happen to keep in
your pocket..."

"Don't be like that.  You'll love it... I guarantee it..."
With these words I place the diecast car in his hand and
sitting back, watch what is probably the first genuine
smile to cross Steve's face in two days.

"Oh Dave..."  He traces the contours of the model with his
fingers and looks slightly bemused as he pays particular
attention to the roof markings and number plates. "It's
exactly like the one we've...," he corrects himself,
"*You've* got at the nick..."

"I had it painted specifically to order.  Do you like
it?"

"I love it.  Seriously..."

A comfortable silence descends as Steve continues to look
over the model before carefully putting it in his jacket
pocket.

A comfortable silence that I just have to shatter with my
big mouth.

"It's not too late you know..."

"It *is*."

Unfortunately the abruptness of his response doesn't
deter me.

"It doesn't have to be.  You could rescind your
resignation..."

"There's no point talking about this.  I've made my mind
up."

"You're a good copper..."

"Was.  Past tense."

"But... You were right.  Franklin was the perpetrator.  You
were right from the start."

"And what a fucking pyrrhic victory that is.  Who do you
think I should brag to?  The toe-tag of the girl in the
morgue?  Or perhaps her parents?  You know, something
like, "I arrested the man who killed your daughter the
morning before he murdered her, but the powers that be
were in damage control and let him out," they'd love that
- I don't think."

Ouch.

What is surprising about this outburst is how *mild* it
is.  There is none of the usual venom in his tone.  He
just seems tired.  Resigned to his decision.

"Sorry.  I shouldn't have said anything."

"No.  I'm sorry.  I shouldn't have responded like that.
Please just leave the subject alone though.  I'm not
about to change my mind."

Nodding my acceptance, I place my hand on his knee and
gently squeeze it through the denim.  "Will you stay in
touch?"

Steve sadly shakes his head as I watch in disbelief.
It's as if a part of me dies with each slow movement.

"No.  I... I can't..."  Pausing, he reaches over and places a
hand over mine, the one that is still placed on his knee.
Before starting to speak again he begins to stroke the
top of my hand with his thumb in a way that is oddly
soothing.  I can't tell if it is meant to be reassuring
or that he is even aware that he is doing it.

"I just *can't*.  To leave... to cut all ties... it would be
better.  It would be fairer on everyone.  Please don't
ask me to explain this any further.  It's just something
I have to do."

"*You* have to do?  What about...?"

I know I sound upset.  I can't help it.  Steve doesn't
bat an eyelid in response to my interruption though, and
merely squeezes my hand tightly before reverting to the
gentle stroking.

"Don't take it personally, Dave.  Please?  It's not like
that at all.  It's *me*.  It's all down to me and me
alone.  Okay?  Hurting you is the last thing I want.
You've got to believe me.  It's just... Well, what's done
is done..."

He suddenly removes his hand and runs it through his hair
again.

"I shouldn't have come...  I came to say goodbye - not to
make a failed bid for understanding.  I should go..."

Steve makes to get up from the sofa and alarmed by this,
I start to stutter as I dig my fingers harder into his
knee.

"Don't go!  I'll change the subject.  I can't... I can't
understand what you are saying but, but I can appreciate
it.  Okay?  Let's talk about something else.  Please?
Don't leave...  Not like this..."

I don't know if it is the words, the level of desperation
in my voice or that I am tightly gripping his knee that
makes Steve sit back down.  Whatever.  He does, so that's
all that matters.

"Come on Dave...,"  Softly, softly, "I've got to get
going."

Not yet.  I search for the promised change of subject and
fall dismally short.

"So, going to Manchester are you?"

"For now.  I don't know if I'll stay there.  I suppose
I'll just see how it goes."

"What are you going to do?"

He sighs.  "I... I haven't got a clue.  Something will come
up.  Look, I can't answer these questions, okay?  Not so
much because I don't want to tell you but because I don't
have the answers myself."

For the first time since he arrived, Steve sounds
agitated and he gets up from the sofa before I can try
and stop him.

"I've really got to go."

Bounding up from the sofa, I force a more commanding,
"No!" than I feel capable of and come to a halt beside
him.

"No?"  Steve raises an eyebrow at me but I note that he
doesn't sound indignant.

"No.  You're not...  I'm not letting you leave.  It's late
and I refuse to let you drive."

"Not letting?  Refuse?"

Thank God.  He almost sounds amused.  We both know I
could no more stop him than I could stop an out of
control lorry.

"Yeah.  You can sleep here.  On the sofa... or I'll sleep
on the sofa... if you... well, you know... don't want to share
my bed..."

No response.  He just looks at me this time.

"Please Steve...  Just stay?  You can go when it's light, I
don't care.  I'd just worry if I thought of you driving
now.  Please?"

Steve opens his mouth to no doubt inform me that he is
more than capable of driving - but no words come out.
Instead, he sighs deeply.

"Okay.  You're right, I am tired... but... you know
something?  I won't fit on the sofa, so... well..."  The
softest of smiles accompanies this concession to my
feelings and I can't help but smile back happily.

"Aaah, you've twisted my arm.  Just this once I'll let
your bony body share my bed.  How's that?"

"It's dreadfully kind of you.  It's good to see you serve
the public twenty four hours a day."

He answers in the same light hearted manner that I'd just
spoken in and for the first time since he arrived, I feel
a sense of ease.  A sense of relief.

"Oh, I'm such a good host that I can even offer you a
pair of pyjamas and your very own pillow."

"You really are too kind.  Can I have a shower as well or
am I pushing my luck on that one?"

"Nah, the shower's included in the deal."  I bite back
the urge to add that I'm also available as part of the
deal.  He hasn't made a move towards me all evening which
makes it pretty obvious that he isn't looking for 'one
last time'.  Perhaps somewhat strangely, I have no
problem with this.  The mere fact that he came back to
say goodbye is enough to make me feel better than I did.

"Hey..."  Steve suddenly steps past me.  "It's a Toyota
Supra isn't it?"

"I have no idea."  I walk over to him, retrieve the
controller from the table and wave it in his direction.
"It's yours."

Steve puts the car back on the floor and glances at me.

"Mine?"

He takes the remote from me, quickly works out the
controls and soon the car is all but pirouetting across
my carpet.

"Yeah.  It's your farewell gift.  Pol chose it."

"Really?"  The car nearly runs into my foot.  "It's kinda
cool, isn't it?"  This time the car does run into my
foot.

"Real cool..."  I laugh as I feel the tyres spin against my
shoe.  "So you like it?"

"Yeah..."  The car is reversed and expertly parked
alongside the table.  "But not as much as the Vectra
though..."

As Steve places the remote back on the table I catch
sight of the Aston Martin on the TV and decide that I'd
like to know once and for where it came from.

"Hey Steve, one last question, and you don't have to
answer this one if you don't want to..."

He looks vaguely suspicious but nods anyway.

"Go on."

"The Aston Martin, " I gesture towards the TV, "Was it
yours?"

"Yes.  It was mine...  How'd you guess?"  The expression on
Steve's face is one of surprise.

"I just wondered, that's all.  It's in such excellent
condition.  Why did you give it to me?"

"Because it was obvious that it meant something to you
and it meant nothing to me.  It was just another toy that
I wasn't allowed to play with in case I lost any of the
bits.  It meant something special to you, so it made more
sense for you to have it."

I'd like to ask why he didn't tell me this when he gave
it to me but realise that it doesn't matter.  It *is* the
thought that counts.

"Thank you then.  It does mean a lot to me..."

"I'm glad...but that was the last question, wasn't it?"

"Yeah.  It was."  I place my hand lightly on his arm.
"Come on.  Let's go to bed."

"Can I have that shower first?"

I nod as I start to walk out of the room.  "I'll just
clean my teeth and then the bathroom is all yours, okay?"

Steve murmurs his agreement and follows me the bathroom.
He lingers silently in the doorway as I go about my
mundane tasks of face washing and teeth cleaning.  Once I
finish I move out of the room and he walks in.

I'm about to say that I'll get the pyjamas and be right
back when the door closes in front of.

Oh.  Okay then.  I can tell when I'm not wanted.

I stare at the door until I hear the shower start to run
and then, sighing, make my way to the bedroom. I can't
begin to guess what is going through Steve's mind and
only wish that there was someway I could help him.  I try
not to dwell on this though as deep down I'm aware that
there is probably nothing I could really do anyway.

As I put on what hopefully passes for my most acceptable
pyjamas (red cotton and not yet falling to bits) I
remember that I offered to lend a pair to Steve.  Shit.
I hurriedly scrabble through drawers until I triumphantly
pull out what must pass for my second most acceptable
pair of pyjamas.  Although they are a particularly
revolting green in colour I have to admit that they are
preferable to the other pair I just encountered which are
covered in vertical stripes of brown and orange.  Looking
at them I make a mental note to put aside some time in
order to go through my drawers and throw things like them
out.

Quashing my misgivings about the pyjamas, I grab them and
return to the bathroom.  I enter without knocking and
place the pyjamas on top of the closed toilet lid.  I'm
about to tell Steve they're there when I happen to glance
over at him through the shower screen and the words die
on the tip of my tongue.  Steve is standing directly
under the spray of water with both palms flat against the
tiled wall and his head resting between them.  Ankles
together and his entire body tilted at a slight angle.
He isn't moving as the water beats down on his shoulders
and glides down his slim body.

He seems exhausted...

Fighting my primary urge to strip off and hold him, I
turn sneak out of the bathroom.

I stand outside the room for a moment after gently
closing the door before walking back to the bedroom.
Once there I turn the two bedside lamps on and after
turning off the main light, get into bed.  I try to keep
my mind deliberately blank - to not think about how this
really is the end.  How in twenty-four hours time I'll no
doubt be in the same spot and I won't even know where
he'll be...

I'm so busy not thinking about things that I nearly miss
the sound of the bathroom door opening and Steve walking
along the passage.  Quickly settling down into the bed I
close my eyes and feign sleep.  I've only just closed my
eyes when I sense him walk into the room and pause at the
foot of the bed for a moment before walking around to his
side of it.  He turns off the bedside lamp and slowly
climbs under the duvet without speaking.

I don't need to open my eyes to know that Steve is lying
on his side with his back to me, but I do so anyway.  The
bedside lamp next to me illuminates the room in a soft
golden glow and I can't help but sigh as I look sadly at
the hollow between us and the huddled lump under the
duvet which is all I can make out of Steve.

My sigh must have alerted him to the fact that I am still
awake because the lump wriggles a little way out from
under the under the covers in order to speak softly.

"Dave?"

"Mmm..."  I can see that he found the pyjamas but don't say
anything.

"Keep Benham behind bars for me, will you?"

"It's out of our hands now.  You should know that.  It's
all in the hands of the Child Pornography Squad, but I'm
sure we'll all do our best."

"Thank you.  I just can't stand the thought of people
like him being out free on the streets..."

Then why leave one of the few jobs in which you can
actually make a difference...  It's on the tip of my tongue
to state this but somehow manage to get around it by
merely grunting.

"Don't even bother..."

"What?"

"I know what you are thinking, so you don't need to say
it..."

I don't believe this for a second.

"What am I thinking then?"

"That if I'm so concerned about keeping paedophiles off
the street then how can I quit..."

God he's good.  Not that I'm going to admit though.

"I wasn't thinking that at all..."

"Oh?... I'm sorry.  So you were actually thinking about how
George's body hair would glisten in the sun as he tried
for an all over body tan..."

What a horrible mental image that paints, but it is one
that I am willing to forgive because of the welcome
amusement in Steve's voice.

"You are *sick*."

"Oh...  So it's just me that's thinking that then?"

"Absolutely."

We both chuckle quietly for a moment and I am gratified
when Steve rolls onto his back and edges a little closer
to me.

"Steve?"

I may as well say it...

"Hmm?"

"I... I'm going to miss you..."

My confession is greeted by complete silence.  I begin to
regret having said it until the silence is broken by
Steve turning over again until he is now facing me.

"I'm going to miss you too..."

He speaks quietly and looking me straight in the eye,
murmurs words that I didn't think I'd hear again.

"Hold me..."

I quickly nod my response and Steve immediately wriggles
over to me and lays his head on my chest.  Shifting
slightly I place my arm around his shoulders and we
cuddle together comfortably.

-- Just like old times --

I'm nearly asleep when I feel Steve's hand snake down my
ribs and hip before coming to a stop on my crotch.  It
rests there lightly for a moment and then suddenly
squeezes me hard through the thin cotton.  My cock
springs to life automatically and I moan involuntarily as
his hand continues its fondling.

Somehow I manage to gasp out, "But...  I didn't think this
was what you wanted...," just prior to my mouth being
captured in a deep kiss.  Steve's tongue nearly
duplicating the actions of his hand that has now found
its way through my fly and is slowly circling and
stroking my shaft.

Pulling back momentarily from the kiss, Steve looks up me
through thick, dark eyelashes and half smiles.

"I don't know what I want... but you'll do for now..."

I think I can live with that.

Without waiting for any sort of response, Steve's mouth
finds mine again and we kiss deeply.  The cool, fresh
taste of his mouth telling me that he must have cleaned
his teeth with my toothbrush and that thought alone is
enough to make me want to smile.  I don't though as
somehow through the haze of pleasure I start to piece
together a plan of how I would rather things continue.

That is, I want to be in charge.  I want to be able to
see, and to be able to luxuriate in the image of his
gorgeous body writhing sensually in front of me...

Reluctantly drawing back from the kiss, I manage to inch
my hand along Steve's chest until I can gently push him
away from me.  He looks a little surprised by this but
slowly nods as I gesture for him to lie back down.
Giving my increasingly hard cock one last squeeze, he
removes his hand and settles down flat on the bed.

Moving quickly, I throw the duvet off us and crawl over
Steve until I am straddling his lower thighs.  I brace
myself by placing my hands next to his waist and lean
forward to resume the kiss.  Steve responds immediately
and as the kiss deepens in intensity he brings his hand
up and gently caresses my cheek.  The caress slowly
extending down my chin, neck and across my collar bone
before his hand gravitates to the top button of my
pyjamas.  Without interrupting the kiss in the slightest
his other hand joins the self imposed task of undoing my
buttons.  Soon my top is hanging open and I can feel
Steve's fingers weaving through my chest hair as his
palms simultaneously rub against my sensitive nipples.
All the while he keeps his lips locked on mine and I feel
as though I could drown in pleasure.

At the back of my mind is the dim memory that I wanted to
be charge of this, but I don't let it bother me much.  I
know I'll get my chance.

I'm not even aware that Steve has slid his hands down my
torso until I feel them tugging at the elastic waist of
my pyjama bottoms.  Because of our position he doesn't
have much success in removing them and breaking the kiss
with a laugh, pushes himself off the bed and succeeds in
getting the pyjamas pushed half way down my upper thighs.
My hard cock immediately springs free and Steve manages
to flick it teasingly with his fingers before flopping
back down on the bed with a grin.

Backing off the bed to rid myself fully of the pyjamas I
fail in my attempt to mock glare and grin back happily.

After dropping the pyjamas on the floor I am about to
crawl back up the bed when I suddenly have a better idea.
Leaning over the foot of the bed I grab a handful of both
of Steve's pyjama legs and swiftly pull them down.  He
obligingly lifts his lower back off the bed and they
slide off his slim hips without any resistance.  Looking
down I can just make out the shape of his erect cock
under the top he is still wearing.

Quickly finishing the job of removing the pants I throw
them on the floor and position myself straddling his
knees.  Steve leans forward to kiss me again but I ignore
him in order to concentrate on the task at hand.

Using both hands I propel his top up his chest until it
is bunched around his collar bone.  I then sit back and
admire what I have exposed for a moment.  Strong cock
almost lying straight up his flat stomach, too defined
ribs, golden brown nipples - all waiting my for my
attention.

Keeping one hand on the pyjama top, I use the other one
to trace a path over his ribs and down his side.  My hand
comes to a stop on his hip before inching its way under
his buttock.  I knead the firm flesh gently as I look up
into his face.  Steve's glazed expression and parted lips
are all the assurance I need and when I know that he is
looking at me, lick my lips and slowly lower my head.

The minute my tongue makes contact with the underside of
his hard shaft I think that Steve is going to buck right
off the bed. Quickly moving my hand from his buttock, I
press down on his hip and once he is back flat on the
bed, continue my exploration of his body with my tongue.
I lick my way up his cock, lingering a moment on the
swollen cock head and tasting the pre come before licking
a clean path through his navel up to his breast bone.  I
then lap at each nipple in turn until they are both
standing proudly erect.  Steve's chest is completely
hairless and the smoothness under my tongue is nothing
short of amazing.

Whilst I am playing with his nipples I move my hand from
his hip and gently cup and squeeze his balls.  This
naturally succeeds in increasing the small whimpering
sounds coming from Steve's mouth and I wonder how much
more he can take.

I have always loved Steve's body and right now I think I
could come from merely bringing him pleasure.  It's
always had that effect on me and I don't know how much
longer I can hold back.  Particularly in light of the
fact that his hand has strayed back to my cock and is
expertly stroking it...

Vowing to finish us off I start to lick my way back down
his body when Steve suddenly grabs my chin with his other
hand and forces me to look at him.

What comes out of his mouth is a huskily voiced command
that I could no more disobey than I could fly.

"Take me."

Nodding numbly, I manage to force out a, "How?," as I try
to get my mind to take control of my over heated body.

"Knees."

Okay, fine, I can deal with that...

We remove our hands from each other and I back off the
bed again as Steve finishes removing the pyjama top and
rolls over. Grabbing the lube from the bedside table I
watch with increasing desire as he places a pillow under
his chest and spreading his legs apart, raises his
beautiful butt off the bed.

When I'm sure that Steve is comfortable I squeeze some
lube onto my fingers, get back on the bed and start to
prepare him.  The cool gel being used to probe his
opening makes him gasp and after easily accepting two of
my slicked fingers, I know that he is ready.

Before throwing it onto the floor I squeeze more of the
lube onto the palm of my hands and use it to coat my
painfully hard cock.  The touch of my hand alone is
nearly enough to push me over the edge.

Using what is probably sheer will power, I pull Steve up
by the hips and without further ado, start to gently
press myself into him.  After a split seconds'
hesitation, he relaxes and I am soon sheathed in the
incredible tightness.  When we are both use to the
coupling I begin to slowly thrust in and out of him.

I want to make this as pleasurable as possible for both
of us and when I am sure that I can continue the gentle
pace of my movements, I move a hand from his hip and use
it to stroke his cock in rhythm with my thrusts.

All too soon I feel myself reaching climax, so by
increasing the frequency of my movements I try to ensure
that Steve is as close as I am.

I need not have worried because as if by some predestined
plan we come at exactly the same time.  My orgasm
coursing through my entire body.  Pulling my now limp
member from him I look around for some tissues and choke
back an expletive as I recall that I had been meaning to
buy some for the bedroom.

Leaning forward I softly kiss Steve between the shoulder
blades, massage his back for a moment and mutter how
wonderful it was.  I then reluctantly take my hand off
him and move off the bed.

Steve's breathing is a little ragged and he hasn't moved.
This is unusual but I tell myself that he must be waiting
for some tissues.  I start to walk a little unsteadily
towards the door and call over my shoulder, "I'm just
gonna go and get some tissues from the bathroom..."

Steve still doesn't move and I begin to feel a bit
concerned.  It's not as though I could have hurt him... Is
it?

I hurry to the bathroom and once there grab a handful of
tissues.  I quickly clean myself up and return to the
bedroom.

Oh dear God...  What on earth is the matter?  Steve's moved
over to his side of the bed but is still lying on his
stomach with his head turned away from me and buried in
the pillow.  To make matters worse it sounds for all the
world like he is softly crying.

"Hey Steve...  What's the matter?"

I climb onto the bed and place my hand lightly on his
lower back.  When he doesn't respond I start to gently
clean him up with the tissues and try another tact.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No..."  He moves his head a little off the pillow in order
to speak but still won't look at me.  "You've...  You could
never hurt me..."

"Then what is it?"  I drop the tissues on the floor and
just rest my hands on his shoulders.

"Nothing..."

"It can't be *nothing*.  Come on Steve.  You're worrying
me."

"It's..."  Steve slowly rolls onto his back, dislodging my
hands, and glances at me shyly through tear filled eyes.
He suddenly looks so vulnerable that I almost want to cry
in sympathy.

"It's just that yesterday... when June and Conway came to
see me... I lied to them..."

I have absolutely no idea what he is talking about and
don't know what to say.

"Come on Steve.  It's alright..."  I hope this is a
reasonable thing to say...

"But I lied!  I said that there was, "no-one special,"
when they asked me about friends.  Can't you see?  I
lied!  You... you mean so much to me and I couldn't even
admit it..."

Steve turns back on his side with his back to me after
this outburst and curls into a ball.

"Don't be silly.  It doesn't matter what you said to
them...  It's only what you say to me that really counts...
And...and knowing that I mean something to you counts for a
lot..."

As I talk I climb off the bed for what I hope is the last
time tonight and retrieve the duvet.  Draping it over
Steve first, I then crawl under it myself and turn the
bedside lamp off.

"Come on...  It's not something you need to worry about..."

"You mean it?"

"Of course I do, you fool.  Anyway, come over here...  If
this is our last night together then I want to be able to
hold you in my arms."

Steve doesn't answer but immediately scoots over to me
and rolling on my side I am able to place my arms through
his and rest them on his smooth chest.  He drops his arms
over mine and we spoon together in absolute harmony.

There's one last thing however on Steve's mind before he
is willing to let himself fall asleep though. I can sense
it and fortunately don't have to wait long before he
voices it.

"I'm sorry...  For everything..."

The words are whispered quietly but in the still room
they ring out crystal clear.

I don't answer.  I know I'm not expected to.  My only
response is to pull him closer to me and clasp his hands
tightly in mine.

Not another word is spoken and we soon fall asleep.

~*~*~*~

Of course, as is to be expected really, Steve isn't there
when I wake up. I knew he wasn't there the minute I woke
but had actually already resigned myself to that fact
before going to sleep.  Even though I don't know whether
I'll ever see him again, I am definitely happier than I
was last night in the Tally Arms.

If there had to be an ending at least it was an
acceptable ending.

~end~